Jason’s Mom and the Wrestling Team Car Wash – Part 3
By
Tommy Linarcos

I awoke the next morning, some sun leaking around the drawn shade.  It was a Sunday, I was not oversleeping.  I was in my son’s bedroom, naked in his bed, my naked son beside me.  I recalled what happened the night before.  How was I going to deal with this now in the light of day?  Everything always looked different the next day.

I needed a trip to the washroom while I figured that out.  I took care of what my body needed to do, and took a Tylenol with two glasses of water.  No hangover, but just in case.  As I left, I met Jason on his trip inside.

I stood at Jason’s bedroom doorway, then had to make a decision.  I could head back to my room, get dressed, and start the day.  Or I could go back inside Jason’s room.  I heard the toilet flush behind me and the faucet turn on.

His blue and white comforter looked so inviting, warm, crumpled and open, waiting for me.  Waiting for us.

I went back inside and got in the bed.  It was a Sunday.

Jason exited the washroom and was coming back.  He was still naked, his cock — his beautiful, hairy cock — swinging as he entered the room, and it might as well have still been last night for me.  A thought came to me.  A fantasy.

“Jason, can you do something for me?  Can you put on your singlet?” I asked.

Jason grinned at me.  He hunted for his sports bag in his closet and pulled out last year’s yellow-with-red-print model.  He turned from me, giving me a nice view of his cute butt, and put it on, one leg, two legs, pulled it up, adjusted, pulled up more, one arm in, carefully, two arms.  He turned, and straightened it a bit.  I could see how red his shoulders were, now.

He gave me a crooked half-smile, and still wore his bedroom eyes, scanning my naked body.  He let me look at him, he didn’t move.  He knew there was more coming.

“You’re at your match,” I started the fantasy.  He nodded.  “You have top position and mount your opponent.”  Jason came forward and climbed back on the bed.  He picked me up and twirled me — not roughly! but it felt so good being handled like that — and put me on my hands and knees.  He leaned forward and took position across my back.

“Ref blows his whistle, and you do an easy take-d…”  I didn’t even finish when Jason flipped me over and pinned me.  He didn’t hurt me.  He knows I’m breakable compared to him.  All in good fun.  His smile showed he knew this.  I rubbed his cock through the singlet. “You’ve won your match.”  Jason leaned in, he thought he knew what was coming next.  “But you stand up.”

Jason leaned back, slightly confused, but he stood off the bed.  He raised his arm, still in the fantasy, showing the crowd his pit hair in victory.  “You’ve won, and I can see your cock — your beautiful cock — hard in your uniform.”  And, oh god, it was.  Just like I’d seen in his swimsuit, like I’d seen in his matches, thick and pointing up and to the right, as if I was still imagining what it would look like in person.  “You’re going back to your bench and get congratulated by your coach and teammates.  But you want to release the tightness on your shoulders.  You pull off one strap…”

Jason pulled off the left strap, freeing his left arm.  I love watching his muscles stretch, but noted that strip of skin turn from white to red.  I reminded myself of his need for the aloe.  It wasn’t going to stop the fantasy, though.  “Then the other…”

His other arm was freed, and he pushed down his singlet as I said, “And you move your uniform down to your waist.  And I can see that chest, those pecs.  I want to touch them, I want to pull, tease those nipples, feel the power in your shoulders.”  Then I pouted, “But you’re all the way across the gym.”

Jason came around to the side of the bed and stood near me.  He was a little ahead of my story.  “You see me across the gym, and jog over to take congratulations from me.  A single kiss, like at the car wash.”

Jason leaned over me and kissed me, his lips were soft and I hung on for that extra second, again.  “You did so well, Jason,” I said.

“I did it for you, Mom,” Jason whispered, and kissed me again.  I didn’t ask for a second kiss, but I wasn’t turning it down, and this one lasted much longer.  He wasn’t sure what came next, but started to stand straight, again.

“I can’t help but feel your body, your abs as you kissed me.  You left me no choice as to where my hands would go.”  I rubbed my hands across his pecs and abs, like I had by the kitchen island.  “I find your treasure trail, and it leads down.  I have to follow it.”  My fingers traced his line of hair down to his thick bush, inside his singlet.

“But I can’t take it, anymore,” Jason said, interrupting my story.  “I pull down my uniform,” which he did, pushing it down his thighs, “and release my cock.  It’s sticking up, pointing at your mouth, but I need it somewhere else.”

His cock was pointing at my mouth.  That was where my tale was going, but he’d changed the storyline. “I need to fuck you, right here, right now, in the stands, in front of everybody.”

He put his hands at my waist and under my bottom and turned me over onto my knees on the bed.  He’s so strong, yet he knows his strength — so gentle, like I was made out of paper. 

“But doing it on the chairs is weird, so I need to take you from behind, as you kneel on the seat.”  While he spoke, he inched closer, stroking his cock along my backside.  “I flip up your skirt, and pull down your panties.  Everyone watches.  They all need to know I am the winner, and there is no better prize than my own mother’s pussy!”

As he said the word ‘mother,’ he pushed inside me.

And he went all the way in — in a single, slow thrust.  God, I was so wet.  He took my hips and pulled me to him for that last inch, making that first slam into me, letting me know he was all the way in, but I knew that from the tickle of his pubes on my ass, too.  I love this position, it lets my Jason get so deep into me, hitting that spot, and he was driving that cock in so hard, and picking up speed. 

What I don’t like is the sound of our thighs slapping — it always sounds like two 2x4s hitting, or sound effects from a karate movie, to me, and I think it’s my ass getting fat, but at that moment, Jason caressed my behind.  “I love your ass, Mom.  Watching you walk.  And at the pool… damn.”  Okay, I needed that!  I had a nice shiver with that one!

The other thing I’m conscious of is the swinging of my breasts as he drives into me.  I love the fucking, but I do get hyper-aware of the swinging.  Yet again, my Jason did the exact right thing at the exact right time, and his hands left my ass and slid under to my breasts, holding them, fondling them.  Even closer in, now, as he was, he was pulling his cock to the edge of my cunt but not falling out, then plunging back in, all the way in.

He leaned back up, and his hands went with him.  I could feel his right thumb grazing my asshole.  He was contemplating sticking that thumb in me, but was still just a little unsure.  My teenager may have shown me how talented he had become, but he was still just a bit hesitant to do some things to his mother.

I pushed back into him.   And I did it again, trying to let him know to give it a whirl.  His hand disappeared, then came back with his thumb wet.  It circled my bud, then pressed in and entered me.  He didn’t try to force his whole thumb in, thank goodness, but up to that first knuckle, and spread his fingers to grip my cheek, and used that as a handle to pull my body into him as he fucked me faster and faster.

I was losing it.  I’d collapsed my elbow support, moaning into the sheets.  But my writhing, my falling to the bed, my feet in the air behind us, was pulling me out of him.  I tried to change the narrative.  “You fuck me so hard in front of everybody, we break the chair.  So, you pick me up, and you sit down in the next seat.”

Jason was still in his fog, but figured out what I was saying.  He broke his rhythm and pulled out of me, and sat on the edge of the bed, shoving his singlet below his knees, now.  He helped me to climb aboard his lap.  “And I lift you, and I impale you on my hard cock.  And you fuck me, this time!”

He was right.  As I found my balance, wrapped my arms tightly around his back, and began rising and falling onto his hard, thick cock, I realized he had fucked me, before.  Both times last night, and so far this morning, he had been on top, was in control.  But finally, Jason wasn’t fucking me, I was fucking my Jason.

And I loved it.  This is what I’d wanted.  This is what I needed.  And as his mother, wasn’t it my…?  No.  I was going to say, ‘wasn’t it my right,’ but it’s not.  But as two people who wanted each other, it felt like it had to happen.  And I wanted it to keep happening.

I had wanted to get into this position to see his eyes, again, to see the passion or lust or desire in him.  To know that he wanted me, not just to fuck me.  He was enjoying my breasts at the moment, and I was enjoying him enjoying my breasts, but I told him, “I want to see your eyes, baby.  Let me see what’s in your eyes.”  I put my hand to his cheek and he pulled away from my nipple.

He looked up.  Last night’s bedroom eyes were gone.  It was my Jason.  His dark browns had some question in them — why did I want to see his eyes? what was in his eyes to see?  And I could see the little boy, again, the same face from some photos in the old album, from when I still printed photos out.  A little guilt hit me, then, and I’m sure he saw something change in my countenance.

His arms went around me, one at my waist, the other behind my neck.  His eyes changed, too.  Amazing how eyes do that.  The pupil, the iris, contract or dilate, how much the eye glistens, what angle it sees from, how you can just see the attitude inside a person.  He saw the change in me.  He looked serious.  He looked confident.  He looked straight at me and told me, “I love you, Mom.”

I almost closed my eyes and fell into him, but I couldn’t.  I wanted to keep my eyes open.  I needed to see his.  “Oh, Jason, my baby, I love you.  I don’t know… how this all…”

“Mom?” Jason said as I faltered, my rocking pace slowing down, though not stopping.  “Mom?  This is good.  Me and you.  We needed this.  Both of us.”

He was right.  I kept myself from tearing up.  “I don’t know what came over me last night.  When I saw you at the car wash, and then… and you don’t know what I did next… and then when I came in your room… and I saw you — I saw your eyes and I saw you see me… Then at night… I just… I just wanted you.”

The hand at the nape of my neck drew me forward and Jason kissed me.  It was a long, tender kiss, just lips, at first, our mouths opening just that little bit, like to take a breath as we reset the kiss and went again, but then his tongue slipped past, and we kissed with passion.  I realized I had the answer to my question from yesterday.  Yes, I could kiss Jason with other than a mother’s love.  I could kiss the man I desired, and it didn’t feel odd.  It felt intense.  It felt wonderful.

We relaxed the kiss.

“Mom?  I’ve wanted this for a long time.”  He pushed up on me, taking over the rhythm, his arm at my waist dropping to my ass, cradling it, not letting me back off.  “I would say ‘you don’t know how much,’ but I think you do.”

“Oh, baby, it feels so good, so fucking good,” I moaned and finally collapsed onto his shoulder, sunburn or not.

He kissed my neck and my shoulder as he fucked me from below, and I was barely doing my part in the rhythm.  He held me tighter and I could feel that something in our position was going to change.  Yes, he was rolling me onto my back, again, moving us center, finally kicking his singlet off of his ankles and feet, and taking position between my legs, above me.

I had a fleeting idea of continuing the narrative — taking our love out of the stands and onto the mat, or some words to that effect, but the need for the story was over, now.  We were back into our own story.

He held his cock and played with it at my entrance.  I pressed my feet against his butt, and smiled, trying to push him forward, trying to push him back inside me.  I didn’t have to try; he wanted in.  Easily, his nice, thick cock slipped back inside my vagina.

“It does feel so fucking good,” he agreed.  We started a nice, gentle rhythm.  Morning sex as it should be, without acrobatics.

He rose up and sat back so he could caress my breasts.  I looked at him.  He was perfect, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my son and ‘of course’ I think he’s perfect.  He had a handsome face, good skin, a little acne on his chin, but that’s temporary.  His body wasn’t thick like a football player’s, and he wasn’t like a couple members of his team last year who looked like a human square – as wide as they were tall – as if someone took a mallet and tapped them on the head until they squished down a foot.  No, Jason was muscular and healthy.  And his cock… long and thick and strong, but not so big as to scare a girl away.  A nice, brown bush, but it hasn’t overgrown.  He may have trimmed it, but if he’s like his father, it will eventually go wild; his chest hair is just starting — I could feel some little ones growing in the center of his chest.

We made love nice and slow for a while.  He stretched out so we could kiss and he could feel my breasts on him.  But eventually, the fire got started, and my boy needed to fuck me, again, and his pace picked up.  I grabbed his ass and made sure he didn’t slow down.

“I need to fuck you, Mom.”

“I need you to fuck me, too…”

“You like when I fuck you, Mom?”

“I love when you fuck me, Jason.”

I caught that he’d called me ‘Mom,’ again, as I’d asked.

“Jason?”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me!”

Like he’d been waiting for permission, my son let loose and pounded me, good.  He sat back up on his knees and put my feet on his shoulders, slamming into my pussy.  He pulled my ankles closer to his neck, off his shoulders, realizing his error.  But then he held me by my feet; he turned and kissed my ankle and up to my arch, as he adjusted and held me by the underside of my toes.  It was like I’d forgotten about those nerve endings and I lit up, inside, and I began my orgasm.

“Come here, baby, come here…” I beckoned to my boy.

He let go of my feet and let my legs down, and lowered himself to start our make-out session.  But as soon as he caught feel of my fluids flowing, he power-fucked me, his face twisting in a grimace.

All I could hear out of him was little deep grunts, exhalations that sounded like ‘fuck’ and ‘you’ and ‘Mom.’  I knew he wasn’t swearing at me, it was just what he was doing, what he wanted to do, what I wanted him to do.

What he needed to do was cum.  And that happened with a loud, “Aaahhh!  Fuck!”  He finally came in me while I was still cumming, and it set me off further.  He couldn’t hold still, though, and continued to thrust into me while he came.

Finally, we collapsed.  He fell to my side, and we stayed together, wrapped in each other, in and out of sleep, until near eleven o’clock.  His sheets were soaked.  Tomorrow was laundry day.

In time, we struggled out of bed, and decided we needed another shower before we could even think about starting our days.

“Can I join you?” Jason asked, that twinkle in his eye.

“Yes,” I said, “but let’s just get clean.  No fucking.”  Jason accepted, knowing there’d still be a lot of hands and soap and kissing, maybe sucking.  And yes, I did suck his cock, again, but that led to us fucking, anyway.

We ate breakfast ravenously, needing some calories, and the orange juice disappeared, replenishing our fluids, avoiding dehydration.

Finally, I did what I promised half-a-day ago, and got the aloe out of the washroom cabinet.  Jason, sitting in his kitchen chair, took his shirt off and leaned forward, a little.  I squirted the tube of aloe on his shoulders, he reacted to the chill of the gel, and I began to work it in.  He started to swoon with the feeling of my hands on him, like a massage.  It was the perfect time to have a conversation.  But I don’t think it was the one Jason was expecting.

“I can’t be… you know, your girlfriend.  You know that.  Don’t stop taking your girls out,” I advised, like a concerned, scared mother.

“You still want to see me sneaking in some pink-slippered blond?” Jason grinned up at me.

“I know you have a fan club,” I kidded him, working, I think, his trapezius.

“The tales of my purple-helmeted love warrior are legendary!” he waved to an invisible crowd.  Then he turned and looked at me, into me.  “Don’t worry,” he calmed me.  “I’m just glad this finally happened.  And that you don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”

“It just can’t go beyond your room.  Or… my room, or this house, you know.”  Suddenly, I had visions of fucking Jason on the washing machine and in his sister’s room.

“I get it.”

Something from earlier still bothered me.  “Do you like Penny?”

Jason thought about it, looked inside himself, head down.  “Yeah…  Yeah, I do.”

“Then don’t give up on her,” I suggested.  “Give her the time she needs to… not be such a tease.  If you’re going to take her virginity, if that has to happen for you both, she needs to trust you.”

“I get it,” he nodded.  “You never forget your first.”  He looked at me, to clarify something.  “I wasn’t going to be rough with her, or anything.  I wasn’t going to force her to sleep with me and then dump her, or anything.  And I wasn’t going to break up with her just because she wasn’t sleeping with me.  You get that, right?  About me?”

“I would hope that was the case with you,” I assured him.  When Jason was young, and I read him stories, we had spoken on my feelings about Theseus abandoning Ariadne on Naxos.  I made him promise me that when he was old enough to get a girlfriend, he would respect her.  As far as I knew, the lack of respect never came from his side of a relationship, more like the girls taking advantage of him, lately.

“I wasn’t like, ‘You won’t fuck me? Then we’re through!’  That’s not it.”  He went to the fridge for a bottle of water, but sat back down.  My hands were still covered with the gel, so I continued working his skin. 

“But she’s doing all this ‘Maybe tonight, we can…’ and ‘Maybe next week’ and flashes me her new underwear, and then stops me when my hand went up her skirt.”  He looked back to see how I reacted.  “And I wasn’t being rough or stupid.  Just trying to be close.  We’d… gotten that far.  Making out and…  You know.  And it’s not all physical.  You know we’ve gone places this summer, had a lot of fun together.  Go places with her friends.  Chat on the phone — sometimes we actually talk on the phone.  Just gets a little frustrating when she plays these games.  And gets jealous at the drop of a hat.  She has to trust me, too.”

“Tell her that.  And, if she’s worth it, if she’s like the real Penelope, be there for her.  Wait for her.  In the meantime, you and I can take care of that frustration.”

It sounded odd, talking about faithfulness and trust while negotiating how much screwing around Jason and I would do at home.  But our relationship was different than a teenage dating one. 

And there I was referencing the Greek heroes, again, to my own Greek hero, and it didn’t escape my consciousness that I didn’t mention Oedipus.  Yes, there was some application, but Oedipus didn’t know he married his mother, and they had a great sex life until they found out.  Here, with my Jason, we knew who we were, and were starting a great sex life, though there were, certainly, pitfalls to avoid and, no doubt, an ending in the not-too-distant future.

“You know, all this working my muscles is turning me on,” Jason said into his chest.

“Don’t you need some recovery time?” I asked, incredulous.

Jason looked like he was going over figures in his head.  He was mumbling, “… morning… then not until six… then when I came home, those three times… twice this morning…”  He looked up at me.  “There’s been plenty of time between sessions.  I should be good-to-go.”

“Well, I need time to recover,” I shook my head and headed to the sink to wash my hands.  “Don’t you have homework?”

“Just some Trig.  I can do that in a half-hour.”  He thought a bit.  “And some reading for English.”

“Well, you take care of that, mister.  Maybe by dinner time, we can see if you’re up to your challenge.”  I dried my hands and waited for him to catch the reference.  He did.  I got a snicker out of him as he waved and went to his room to dig his books out. 

He had called Penny at some point, and they cleared the air.  Things would be okay, though he wouldn’t see her until the next day.

We wound up not doing anything during dinner — when making it nor when eating it.  We just had a quick supper as Jason was heading out with friends for the evening, soon after, and I was glad of that.

A little after ten o’clock, Jason came in the front door; the next day was a school day, after all.  He came up to me on the couch and leaned down and kissed me.

“Let’s make a mess of your sheets, tonight, omorfiá mou,” he told me.  Then he added, “Mom.” I took his hand and followed, though this time I shut the television off.

The End

Copyright 2025 – Tommy Linarcos
All rights reserved