Chapter 4
One of the hardest things in the world to do is hold still when you're nervous. I thought I knew at that moment how a fawn must feel with a predator just across the clearing. The impulse to bolt is all but overpowering and every fiber quivers with the effort to resist the impulse. Standing quietly under my son's scrutiny was bad enough. But holding my hands at my sides, motionless, was sheer torture.
I wanted to speak-to break the deepening silence-but my throat was too tight and I didn't know what to say. There was too much hazard either of being flip, which would have been grossly inappropriate, or brassy. And I wasn't going to let Rolf get the idea I was hard; the events that were so likely to grow out of the situation were going to come too close to creating that impression, as it was.
He blurted out. "You are different! You couldn't feel the same!" He gasped and swallowed, his sudden confusion suggesting he wished he could swallow the comment.
"The same?" I repeated softly.
"She-" He choked on whatever he'd meant to say.
"Rose, honey?"
The confusion and uncertainty drained from him and he calmed. His eyes were abruptly clear and steady and he returned my gaze without flinching. "Yeah. I spent a long time in her studio this afternoon."
"Talk a lot?"
A fleeting grin touched his lips. "Yeah. And did a lot of 'not-talking'. She-well, she said women mostly felt the same when-when it mattered."
I knew what she'd said. I wanted to evade a decision on whether to let him find that out so early. But I was certain now that a time was going to come when I'd engulf his newly-christened cock.
"Come here, Rolf." I kept my voice matter-of-fact.
He approached without taking his gaze from my eyes.
"Feel me. Just run your hands over me and find out." And when he gulped and hesitated, I smiled. "You know what Rose feels like, don't you?"
"Yeah."
He felt my arms, his hands feeling awkward to me as they ran over my flesh. I smiled again, meeting his questioning, half-scared glance squarely, and raised my arms to clasp my hands at the back of my head, my elbows drawn back and out to the sides. I knew what the posture was doing to my figure. I knew my boobies, full and firm anyhow, were lifted and tilted by the new tautness. I knew my belly was sinking back and letting the mound under my pubic hair protrude suggestively. But I knew he'd understand I wasn't asking him to form a judgment based on how my arms felt.
He laid each hand at one of my elbows and ran his fingers lightly inward along my upper arms to my armpits. I could hardly believe that kind of caress on that part of my body could arouse such a storm of sensation! My boobies seemed to writhe within and my nipples tingled as if they were connected to buzzers! My belly churned and a flash of heat in my pussy made my thighs tense! I gasped and then couldn't breathe!
But I was alert. Through the wall of excitement I sensed the secondary movements of his fingertips as he tested the firm fullness of my flesh. And I could easily imagine the mental comparison he was making between Rose and me. She'd kept herself almost thin-part of the poetic image, I supposed. If I'd disliked her just a little more I'd have thought of her as stringy, but she missed that by a little bit. Still, her upper arms didn't have enough meat on them to pad the bone. And Rolf was feeling another kind of flesh now.
With the heels of his hands at the sides and his fingertips curling around to the back, he stroked slowly over my ribs to my waist. He held them there for a time, closing them on the firm muscles.
"There's a lot of difference," he commented simply. "An awful lot."
But we both knew he wasn't testing what Rose had really said. And I wasn't ready yet to predict when we would.
He moved around to my right side. "May I?"
"Yes."
The sensations crowded over each other then. His left hand explored my back while his right played over my belly. In the midst of the chaotic jumble of alarms his touch generated in me, I let myself visualize the scene. Rolf always slept in his Jockey shorts and that was the way he'd come into the sitting room. He was better developed than most fifteen-year-olds, with the angular gawkiness gone and replaced by hard, tapered lines. With broad shoulders and a thick chest, he looked like a wedge. Narrow waisted, slim hipped and sturdily supported by legs that boasted bulging thighs and calves. But it was still a boy's body in its hairless smoothness and youthful, flawless skin. Only the great lump where his hard-on tented his shorts looked all man.
And he was big! His five-ten, hundred-sixty-pound frame was a sharp contrast to my five-one, one-fifteen. I had no sense of embarrassment over my part in the picture, though. A thirty-five, twenty-two, thirty-three figure didn't require apology when it was firm and wrinkle-free and elastic at my age. And a honey-blonde who can substantiate the color of her hair even when she's naked doesn't cringe from a man's stare. I stood casually, now, committed and therefore free of the nervous paralysis I'd suffered from, with my weight on one foot and the other knee relaxed and bent modestly, one hip thrust toward my son and my upper torso leaned a little. My only real difficulty was maintaining the posture with lances of excitement searing me.
Rolf felt of my belly and fingered the abrupt slope where my skin flared to cover my lower ribs. And I tensed inwardly as his fingers approached the under-bulge of my breasts. At the moment he cupped his palm under my breast, his other hand cupped intimately over one of my buttocks. I drew a long, shuddering breath and surrendered to the surge of pleasure. My shoulders twisted involuntarily and my ass cheeks tightened. Rolf explored my boob with thorough squeezing and prodding and gentle rubbing. When his thumb and fingers closed on my nipple, I grunted explosively and felt my belly leap. My arms tensed and jerked forward, pulling at my head, and I dug my chin into the hollow where my collar bones met.
"Oh, dear!" I exclaimed in a whisper. "It's so hard to hold still!"
"Gosh, Mom! Gosh, what breasts!"
"Unh! Do-you always-call them-breasts-son?" I couldn't overcome the jerky cadence.
He appeared to squirm. "Well-knockers, maybe-tits-lots of things. Anyhow, you've got Class A knockers, Mom! Man, do they feel great in a guy's hand!"
What the hell do you say to that? For the life of me, I don't know! And the way I felt right then, nothing brilliant came to mind. So I just moaned a little and twisted my shoulders again. Rolf edged around to stand behind me, both hands reaching around so he could hold one "knocker" in each. I leaned against him, the contact with his flesh flooding me with a new, fierce tide of desire. He massaged my boobs vigorously, kneading their hot masses and teasing my nipples. The pink lumps grew and hardened and the dark aureoles around them swelled and darkened as well.
My awareness of the body I leaned against grew more intense. His thighs felt hard and hot where my buttocks squirmed on them. The thick cylinder of his hard-on was like an unyielding column at the small of my back. And his chest was a broad, firm wall for my back and shoulders to rub against. I wanted firercely to tell him to take off his shorts. Something primitive and earthy in me ached for the sensation of that eager cock against my flesh without intervening material. And he might as well have been listening to my thoughts.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Mom-would you-I mean, you think-well, is it okay if I take off my shorts? I could feel you better that way."
Perversely, I couldn't bring myself to tell him it was okay. The best I could do was shrug. But he backed away from me and I sighed tremulously and tried to collect my composure. Letting him get rid of the shorts was a long step toward tacit permission to fuck me, I realized. And every step was going to make a refusal that much more difficult.
But when he bellied against me and seized my tits again, the rush of fiery pleasure drowned any reservation I still held. Hairless as the rest of his body was, he had a thick, wiry brush of pubic hair. And it bristled against my back to frame the moist heat of his cock. I hadn't thought of the sensation I'd experience when those youthful nuggets in his scrotum rested on my ass, either, and I'd begun to squirm under their touch before I knew my hips were moving.
He played more urgently with my boobies. His fingers worried my nipples and shot savage pulses of delight through me. And his hands shaped and reshaped the mounded flesh behind the nipples. I unclasped my hands and brought my arms down, reaching back to clutch at his sides. I could feel the intermittent pressure as he alternately thrust his hips forward to crush his cock between us and jerked them back to relieve the pressure. And my buttocks squirmed unceasingly.
With his left arm, he reached across me and grabbed my right breast. His right hand, freed, slipped onto my belly again and started fondling the trembling flesh with demanding, eager caresses. I let my breath hiss softly as his fingers worked their way into my pubic hair and downward toward the lower bulge of my mound. And without bothering to weigh the significance of my gesture, I slid my feet apart and spread my thighs while his hand plunged into the space under my crotch.
His fingers lingered on the outer slopes of my pussy lips. They dragged across the sparse pussy hair and tugged at the sensitized skin and my hips jerked uncontrollably. A nagging awareness somewhere in my mental jumble kept trying to remind me this wasn't the kind of feeling I'd invited him to do, but my excitement was far too intense to tolerate such a petty distinction, deception that it had been. The time had passed for playing evasive games; sex filled my emotions and twisted my body, and nothing else mattered except that this was the boy I'd poured my love onto for fifteen long years.
He slid one fingertip along the parted edges of my slit, unhampered by pussy hair and coated with the thickening wetness that clung to the quivering membranes in layers. I ground myself on his body and bent both knees, sagging onto the impudent finger. He stroked persistently, his fingers plunging between the swollen tissues and inflaming them with delight. My hips moved continuously, rotating in hard, erratic jerks.
Beside myself now with desire, I grabbed his hand and guided his fingers to my clitoris. He felt of it and grunted his surprise.
"Hey! What's that!"
I told him, and he rolled it gently between his fingers to get the feel.
"It's like a little penis!" he exclaimed.
I gasped. "With a hard-on!"
"Yeah!" He rubbed the tip with a slow, circular motion and I went wild.
"Oh, God! Rolf!" I had to stop him for an instant.
I clutched at his wrist with both hands and dragged his fingers away from the throbbing lump. He waited patiently until I let go, then began a light stroking along the side of the clitoris shaft. I groaned and writhed, desperately struggling to keep my hands out of the way while my body jerked from side to side.
"My gosh, Mom!" He sounded shaken. "That really drives you up the wall, doesn't it?"
"Honey, honey! Oh, God, honey! I'm sorry to be such an animal! I just can't help it!"
"Oh, man!" There was awe in his voice and a note of something else. He was aware, suddenly, of the power he had over me. The wild thrashing his caresses produced was so obviously involuntary he couldn't help realizing I'd revealed the secret of overcoming conscious determination.
As the pressure of the massage increased, the intensity of the pleasure it caused grew greater than I could stand. In spite of my best efforts, I had to grab his hand and stop the fierce influx of sensation. He resisted briefly, then let me pull his hand away. But the pressure of his cock in the middle of my back increased and his other arm held me tightly to him.
"No fair!" he protested.
"I-can't help it!" I gasped. "Oh, God, honey! I don't want to make you stop, but I can't help it!" A weird notion flitted across my thoughts. "Maybe you ought to tie my hands behind me."
"You serious, Mom?" He laughed explosively, as if to relieve the shock the suggestion had produced.
"I wasn't, but maybe you ought to."
"Well...." He seemed to hesitate. "What with?"
"I-I've got some nylons with runs starting in them. I haven't thrown them out yet. Maybe-"
"Where? I'll get them."
"On top of the big chest."
I trembled when he left me. The lights went on in the bedroom and I heard Rolf knock something over on the top of the dresser. But he returned in a moment, the discarded nylons dangling from his hand.
Instead of tying my hands behind me, he lashed them together in front.
"That won't keep them out of the way," I said.
"I figured a way." He grinned and tied the end of another stocking to the free end of the one he'd already used. And reaching up to the overhead lamp, he passed the end of the stocking through a link of the supporting chain.
Quickly, he raised my arms over my head, snugged the stocking and knotted it.
"But I'll pull the whole thing down!" I protested.
"Mom, you could swing on that thing! It's as solid as the beams in the ceiling." He grinned more broadly. "I already know that; it's just like the one in my room."
I cautiously tested his assertion. He was right; it bore my weight without a creak. But I felt a rush of self-consciousness I hadn't had before. Having my arms stretched above me that way somehow made me feel incredibly more naked and exposed!
Rolf didn't give me time to think about it. He fingered me and pressed against my back and grabbed my pussy. I spread my legs for him, resigning myself to the novel situation and bracing inwardly against the explosion of sensations I knew his probing would bring.
He wasted no time, but began at once to massage my clitoris. I twisted and jerked, fantastic jolts of excitement wrenching me backward and forward. And when I couldn't tolerate the fierce stimulation I crossed one leg over the other and clamped my thighs, thrusting back with my ass and panting heavily.
Rolf laughed with childish delight. "I knew you'd do that!" he exclaimed gleefully.
Without any pretense of asking permission, he knelt and tied a stocking to each of my ankles. He pulled the couch into position and moved the armchair, then used them to secure the ends of the stockings, fastening my legs apart at a grotesque angle. I was humiliated and indignant at the position he'd put me in.
"Rolf! For God's sake! What are you doing? You must be out of your mind!"
"You said you didn't really want to stop me, Mom." He didn't sound concerned over my protest
"But this! You can't do this, son! Good God!"
He laughed and straddled one of my outstretched thighs. His hand dug into my pussy and his thumb went to my clitoris. "I guess I can't. But I did."
If I'd wanted to make an issue of it, the time had passed. I could do nothing but react. My body lashed fiercely backward and forward, my hips snapping powerfully as the sensations of pleasure in my pussy soared beyond anything I could ever have withstood of my own free will. I cried and moaned and gritted my teeth. Rolf bent to grab one of my tits in his mouth, and he sucked savagely while his hands continued to maul my pussy. His thumb stayed on my clitoris, rolling it and rubbing it while his fingers stabbed into my cunt again and again.
Lust half-blinded me and every shred of reserve evaporated. I flung my pussy against his hands like a rutting sow. Words tumbled unheeded from my pouting lips and I ground my teeth together with desperate bites. I alternated between rising to the balls of my widespread feet and hanging by my wrists, and my shoulders twisted furiously.
I begged him to fuck me, but he was drunk with his power and hypnotized by the violence of my reaction. I vaguely sensed the fact his fingers were still exploring, and I felt the wetness as he smeared my copious pussy juice over all the flesh around my cunt. I was startled briefly when he drove a finger into my ass, but the resulting wave of pleasure stifled my protest and made me cry out with joy.
I don't have any idea how many fingers he used, but he seemed to fill both my cunt and my anus with them, his thumb never slowing in its terrible assault on my clitoris. My excitement multiplied to such intensities I completely lost control of myself. I frothed at the mouth and the foamy saliva drooled onto my chest and coated my leaping boobs. My pulse raced and I panted violently from my exertions.
And suddenly I was coming! "Rolf! OMIGOD, HONEY, I'M-I'M-COMINNNGGG! EEEEE!"
I went rigid, tremors shaking me and spasms convulsing my guts. At the height of the inner contractions, the sensation in my clitoris became totally intolerable.
I screamed at him. "NO! NO! OH, JESUS, STOP! I CAN'T STAND IT ANY MORE!"
He pulled his hands away and stepped back, staring at me while I continued to twist in the grip of my orgasm. And when the savage convulsions subsided and I sagged, he whistled softly.
"Whew! Jeez, Mom! You come like something else!"
"Oh, God!" I whispered, exhausted. "Like a girl who's never reached a climax before!"
I realized what a contrast there was between my deepening lassitude and my son's continuing tautness. He had yet to find relief from the excitement that must be devouring him! And watching my lewd figure couldn't do anything for him but heighten his lust.
I tried to give a light laugh, croaking instead. "Bonus, honey."
"Huh?"
"I got a bonus. That was an unscheduled orgasm."
"Oh."
"It's my turn to help you."
"I don't-"
"Oh, good God, honey, I'm not suggesting turning the thing around! But there's a big step we haven't taken!"
"Like...."
"Yes. Now, get me down from here."
He untied me quickly. My hands burned while their circulation was coming back, but I ignored the agony and flung myself against my uncertain boy. I pulled his face down to mine and gulped at his mouth, greedy for a kind of kiss we'd never shared. His hunger seemed to eclipse his reawakened self-consciousness and he grabbed me in his arms, crushing me to him while his mouth savaged mine. I ground my belly on his cock and my boobs on his chest, my excitement bursting within me again. And by the hard, irregular jumps in the hot cylinder, I knew he'd come perilously close to the limit of his self-control.
I pulled my mouth away from his. "Honey?"
"Yeah?" he panted.
"Honey, fuck me now!"
"Mom! You want me to, Mom?"
"NOW, SON! GOD, YES! FUCK ME!"
As if I'd turned a key in some hidden lock, he became a wild, primitive creature. He flung me onto the couch, pulled my knees apart and dropped between my thighs. I pulled my knees up, wide-spread, and he caught them and forced them over me, bearing down until they pressed the sides of my rib cage. His cockhead touched my gaping cunt and paused for an instant. Then, with a brutal lunge, he plunged it into me and blasted his pelvic bone onto my pussy.
I shrieked, panicked by the terrible ferocity of his thrust and hysterical with joy at the depth of his penetration. "JESUS! YES, HON! HARD-HARD!"
His hips jerked viciously. He blasted me again and again, my whole body leaping under the savage pounding. And his cockhead churned my guts as it pistoned the length of my vagina. His arms encircled me, trapping my thighs along my sides, and I flopped like a rag doll to his fucking. My passion surged wildly. I soared with it toward an infinitely richer climax than my first, and when his fierce pumping gave way to a quivering, motionless thrust that held us welded together, my vagina milked the dear cock mercilessly. The base of his cock jerked and heat pooled in my belly. I cried while my son grunted, and I felt my nails sink into the skin of his back.
"Oh, yes, honey!" I whispered urgently. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He groaned as if somebody were twisting a knife in his gut. We strained and sweated and clung to each other. And at last our rigidity melted and our tremors subsided. His clutching arms eased their fierce grip and I felt my legs released. I closed them around his waist and held him to me, cradling him with an intimacy we'd never before known with each other. And happiness richer than any I'd ever experienced seeped through me and warmed me.
"Thank you, son," I whispered. "Oooh, this is so gooood!"
"Mmm! Mom, it's better than good!" He shivered. "Know what?"
"What?"
"Cunt isn't all alike. Yours grabbed my whole pecker, from one end to the other! Rose's didn't." I giggled. "You going to tell her?"
"Better not. Might make her feel bad."