Category: Boy/Woman Sex (Page 1 of 18)

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

Jason’s Mom and the Wrestling Team Car Wash – Part 2
By
Tommy Linarcos

I didn’t stay out too long.  Arianna was good company, and she picked up immediately on the idea that something was up with me, but, god, I couldn’t tell her!  I did mention the car wash, and described what she’d missed in an off-hand way, but left the erotic details in my head private.  I had a couple drinks, but consciously did not drink enough to start confession.  Besides, I was driving, so I wasn’t going to get trashed.  But, damn, did I need to file the edge off…

We were hit-on at the bar we’d gone to by a couple of decent-looking guys who we played darts with, and I got a number.  It’d been three years since my divorce went through.  It was a fairly amicable divorce, as those go; we didn’t hate each other, there was no adultery, we just couldn’t live with each other and fought too frequently.  We’d actually become better friends in the years since the divorce than the entire time we were married, but I think that’s because we didn’t live with each other, anymore.  Diana, my daughter, actually reacted like, “Finally!” when we broke up.  Jason took it a little harder, but he sees his dad frequently as the man doesn’t live far away, and they have a good time when they get together.

I did a little revenge/freedom dating when we first broke up, had some good sex, though that tapered off.  I had a decent fella for several months last year, but only a couple ‘maybe’ dates since then.

Obviously, I’m avoiding talking about how attracted to Jason I found myself that morning.  God, he was beautiful.  And then… in his bedroom…

I got home around eleven, an early night for us.  I got back into loungewear, and finally had that third glass of wine I denied myself at the bar.  I put on the TV and watched a repeat of Saturday Night Live, with the news of Weekend Update being several months old.

Before the segment was over, I heard the key in the front door lock, and Jason came in.  He pried off his shoes and came in to sit by me.

Were we going to talk about earlier?  I avoided it by bringing up his evening.  “So, have a good time?  Everyone celebrate the fundraiser?”

Jason looked troubled.  “I got a little cooked this afternoon.”  Sunburn.  He fiddled with his buttons and angled out of his rolled-up sleeves, took off his nice blue shirt, and tossed it on the sofa back.  He still had a tank top on.  “Didn’t feel it until later, and I wore the wrong shirt.  Still too new, not an old friend, yet.”

“Shoulders?  Want me to put some aloe on you?” I offered.  Like a mom, not… whatever I felt I was.

“Maybe after I shower.  I want to wash the night off.”  He rubbed at his hair which likely still had residue from the car wash suds, but probably meant more about how his evening went.

“So, not a good night?  Penny?” I surmised.

“Yeah.”  Would he be more forthcoming?  We talked a good game between us.  I knew he was sexually active with his girlfriends — hell, I bought his condoms, so that was no secret, though I didn’t ask for dirty details.  “She got angry because of all the girls at the car wash today.  Touching me, flirting with me… and me not shoving them away.”

“Were you encouraging them?” I asked.

“Not any more than usual.  I mean, we were all half-naked, it was like a beach party — there were a lot of amazing girls to look at!” he told me.

“And boys…” I said with a drink of wine.

“Yeah!” Jason threw his hands up.  “She didn’t mind any of the guys hitting on me.  Nor, probably, any of the guys hitting on her.  I mean, everyone was doing whatever we could to get our suits to ‘shift’ a little, you know what I mean?”

“Sure do.  There was a lovely young lady whose boobs ‘shifted’ against my driver window,” I laughed.

Jason laughed with me.  “I wish I knew who it was, I could tell her, ‘Hey, I heard you flashed my mom!’”

He reached out and picked up my glass, took a big sip of my Agiorgitiko.

“Did you drink tonight?” I asked.  He was no saint.  I knew.

“I wasn’t driving.”  He put my glass back.  “Two beers.  Left early because of Penny.  And I was tired.”

“You guys spent all day in the sun.  That’ll do it to ya.”

Jason still looked pensive.  “I don’t know if me and Penny are breaking up.  There was this one girl, Maddie, who was all over me, so I know why Penny’s mad, but I didn’t do anything.  They all just want my bod.”

“You know it, kid.”

Jason looked at me, trying to figure out that statement, and god only knows why I’d said it.  I could blame the wine, but I knew what I was feeling.

“What’s the history?” I asked.  “Have you been… intimate… with Penny, yet?  Is she going to go nuts if you break up?”  I know how teenage girls are.

“It’s only been… I don’t know how many weeks.  Started halfway through summer.  I’m not in love, like with…”  He stopped.  Breaking up with Iris, his First Great Love, had hit him hard, over a year ago, now.  Since then, most-to-all of his girlfriends have been older, some who only wanted sex, or so I’d found out from Jason in read-between-my-lines discussions.  “So, we’ve done some things, but we haven’t had sex, yet.  Or not ‘yet.’  Or not ever, whatever.”  He shook his head. 

“She’s a year younger?” I asked.  He nodded.  “It’s a tough decision to give away your virginity.”

“But she’s been such a tease…”

“Go take your shower.”  I didn’t want him to ruminate too much on the girl, didn’t want him to start insulting her or getting angry.

Jason took my advice, got up, and went to his room, then I heard him head to the washroom and the shower water running.

I watched the next skit play on TV.  Like usual, there was no punchline, it just kind of ended.

My mind was more on the naked body in the shower.  What was wrong with me?  Was I obsessing?  I’ve seen Jason naked before — though, admittedly, not truly naked for about ten years.  Underwear or swimsuit, like today, often.  A flash here and there as he went from his room to the shower and back.  We don’t hide ourselves, neither did his sister, though we don’t wander the house nude and invite the kind of gazes as I was giving my son today.  Or my son toward my tits.

I thought about his cock — the bit I truly hadn’t seen since he was seven.  His tumescence during wrestling matches.  The occasional full erection, like today at the car wash.  And in his bedroom.  Don’t forget what you saw in his bedroom, Helen!

I saw the boy cum.  Two white jets and several white sprays.  He came looking at my tits.  I could see his eyes, looking at me, that look of a man who wants what he sees.  I could see his cock in Hector’s fist, and then it pointing at me when Hector let go of it.  I wanted that cock.

Calm down, Helen.

Maybe I just wanted to see that cock.  Fully.

I got up and went to the kitchen island where I left my bottle.  Did I want more?  No, I’d probably had enough.

I could hear Jason exit the washroom.  Then I saw him in the living room.  He had a towel wrapped around his waist, otherwise he was naked, still.  He picked up his shirt that he’d left on the couch, nodded to me as to show me he was picking up his things.  He headed back to his bedroom.

“Jason?”  I stopped him.  “Can I see you?”

He stopped and turned, listening, as if I wanted his attention, but that wasn’t it.

“Do you have the aloe?” he asked and moved toward me.

“No, that’s in the washroom, so…” I fumbled.  He stopped.  “I want to see you.  Without the towel.”

Jason let that request filter through his mind.  “You want to see me naked?”

“I’m your mother,” I said, as if that explained it.  “Today, I realized how much…  I’d like to see my creation.”

Jason still looked at me a little wary, but he tossed the shirt back onto the couch.  Then… he unwrapped his towel and let it fall.

My son was naked before me.

“My god, you’re beautiful.  Eisai panemorfos.  You’re like a statue, a Polykleitos…” 

I tried to breathe.  I needed a deep breath, but all I gave myself were little sips of air as I looked at my son, my Jason, standing with one bare foot forward, legs apart, toned calves and thighs leading to his cock.  He’d come from the shower, so his cock was not hard, but was warm and hanging long.  His shock of dark pubic hair, dark brown.  His muscled abs and up to his incredible pectorals.  His arms, just hanging akimbo, but I knew of his biceps and triceps and all the other ‘ceps.  His shoulders.  And his face.  The face that resembled his father, but I could see some of my own father there, too.  His damp brown curls.

He moved.  He walked toward me.

“Is this what you want to see?” he asked me quietly.  Not as a challenge.  Just the question.

My hand moved to his chest.  I had to touch him.  It looked so hard, but the muscle was firm, his skin soft.  “You’re perfection.”

As soon as I’d touched him, I’d seen his cock jerk, just a bit, at the bottom of my vision.

“If that’s so,” he said, and I glanced up at him, “it’s because of you.”  My eyes fell back down slowly.  Did he mean because of how I raised him? or just genetics?  Or was he saying something about me, too?

My hand traveled down his abs.  And lower.  I felt his hair at his navel, trailing down to…  I had to look.

His cock was growing in front of me.  Like at the car wash, it was hanging heavy to the side, but bobbing, with blood pulsing, and rising.  I watched it.  It stood tall, pointing at me.

I could barely breathe, and yet I whispered, “Why wouldn’t that little tease want this?”

Jason touched me, put his hands on my arms.  “Tease?  I’ll tell you who’s a tease…”

I looked up at him, to his eyes.  And nervously back down to his cock.  And back to his eyes.  “Me?  I could never tease you…”

“You always tease me, ómorfi.  Have been for years…”

“I… I wouldn’t tease you,” I stammered.

“If you’re not teasing me, then… show me your tits.”

I had done that once that day, already.  If I took off my shirt again, then…  But I had very little say in the matter.  Jason put his hands under my top.  His face was right close to mine, nose to nose.  “Just let me see your tits, Mom.”  He began lifting my top off and I did nothing to stop him.  In fact, I did everything to assist him except for doing it myself.

I stood in front of my son bare-breasted, once again, though he was so close he couldn’t see them.  He could only feel them.  As soon as he could, he’d pulled me to him so he could feel my breasts against his chest.  So I could feel his chest against my breasts.  A little noise escaped his lungs, not a whole word, but a sigh, a ‘yes,’ a ‘finally’ sound.  His hands found their sides and began a caress that included my sides and waist.  He hesitated at my shorts waistband, but inside, I was already waiting for him to rip them off.  I felt him move his hand to center and pull the drawstring. I’d felt his hard cock against me, but then I felt him step back so my shorts could fall.  They were still a little hung up on my ass, so I invisibly used a hand behind me to release them, and they fell to my feet.

“You just don’t know how hot you are, do you, Mom?” Jason whispered into my neck.

At that point, I was feeling very hot, feverish, even, but that’s not what he meant.

“You’ve wanted to see me?  I always wanted to see you.”  With his hands on my sides, he gently pushed me back a step, and gazed at my breasts, blue in the TV light, nipples darker than they were.  His hands came back to them, hefted their weight, finding their suppleness, and started tweaking the nipples.  “These tits… yes…” he breathed.

I could follow his eyes as they went further down me.  One hand stayed on my breast, the other made its way, slowly, along my belly to my panties.  He didn’t shove his hand inside; instead, he moved to my hip and tried to push them down on one side.  Then his other hand left my breast.

I wasn’t sure where this all was going.  I mean, I knew where I wanted this to go, but could I ask that of my boy, in reality?  I could step away and end this here, just let it be the views and the feels we’ve both wanted to take.  But being that one step away from him to see my body, meant I never stopped staring at his body.  Before he pushed off my panties, before I was as naked as he was, there was something more I had to do.  Maybe it was to postpone the inevitable, maybe it was to please him so he would be satisfied for tonight, or it was just to serve my own desire from this morning.  Hell, from the last two or three years, maybe…

I dropped down to my knees, falling out of his grasp, and gazed at his beautiful cock.  The cock I’d only seen hidden in those ridiculous singlets, the cock I’d seen engorged from a tense battle on the mat, the cock I’d now seen when he dropped his towel.

My hands went to his thighs, judging the sinew beneath his skin, then roamed north — my left through his pubes and my right back to his abs, then both to his pecs, and back down.  Though my hands roamed, my eyes never left his hard cock, pointing right at my mouth.

My left hand held his testicles.  I’d noted they were hanging loose when he dropped the towel, but had now contracted a little — due to nerves?  Of course, my baby was nervous, though he sure didn’t seem like it.

My right took his shaft.  I could guess at his length — somewhere in the seven-inch range, perhaps more, maybe not, but I knew it was bigger than any I had experienced in the last three years.  Definitely thicker.  I pumped his cock slowly, trying to imagine what it would feel like entering my pussy, so to put that off, I found, instead, how it felt entering my mouth.

“Fuck, yes…” I heard Jason exhale above me, his hands finding my hair.

His crown was so large, I had trouble fitting it in my mouth, at first, and couldn’t get much further, then I realized I was holding onto the base of his cock rather tightly.  I stroked him for better blood flow and was able to take him in deeper.  I used to suck cock pretty well.  Still do, I think, it had just been about a year.  But my head was foggy with that ‘should I or shouldn’t I?’ stuff.  I pulled off of him to look at it, again.  Yes, I decided, I should.

I took gentle hold of his balls and sucked his cock back in, relaxing my throat, and took him down until my upper lip kissed his bush of dark brown pubes.  I repeated as I could, letting my son know how much I wanted him, wanted all of him.

With his cock secure, I let my right hand slide around to his behind, taking a good feel of that soft muscle in a way I never had.  Sure, a swat at his butt when kidding around might have let me know how much jiggle he had in there, but I’d never caressed it as if it were one of my own breasts, before.  Part of me thought about slipping a finger inside of him, but I didn’t want to shock him.

Would he be shocked?  The boy was no virgin, a number of times over, but I didn’t know, couldn’t know, how much quality experience he had.  His girls were all in high school, too, after all.

I pulled off of him, but held him still, licking his head, then down the shaft, then back up.  I wanted to feel every vein, every ridge, the little knot of skin at his scar.  I heard him suck in his breath above me and felt his body stiffen and relax as I moved on, circling the corona.  He continued to hold my head, loosely through my dark hair, in a needless effort to keep me from stopping.

I went back to a quick bob, continuous, and let my hands move across his backside, my arms holding him in place so that he couldn’t move.  He did, however, begin a gentle thrusting — not fucking my face — but helping keep my rhythm, I thought.

“Mom, I’m… I’m gonna…  I’m gonna cum in your mouth…” he whispered.  His voice was thick, deep.  Insistent.

His hands in my hair now did hold me in place.

My son was going to cum in my mouth.  Whether he knew it or not, there was no way I wasn’t going to let his cock out of my mouth, anyway.  I wanted that cum as much as he wanted to give it to me.  I’d seen his cum shoot out of that cock just about six hours before, and now I was going to taste it.

Jason’s hips were waving, his cock making short jabs into my mouth in the opposite direction of my sucking.  We were a machine.  Daedalus couldn’t have designed us better.

“Ah, god…” Jason moaned and his body went stiff as he shot his load inside my mouth.  The first shot came when he was at my lips, so I held him there, allowing that short distance over my tongue to catch his hot semen, and taste it, before I swallowed it.  He gave me five thick shots, and then three more, before I was doing the work to coax what was left out of him.  A few more light bobs while he recovered, some licking up the sides and crown to make sure I got it all, and I felt him relax, though I could feel his solid posture would not allow him to collapse.

He tasted salty.  Well, he did have hot dogs and pizza, today, and plenty of soda, probably, and I couldn’t remember what we’d had yesterday.  That part of my brain that was still a mother made a note to cook healthier this week.  I’d kind of hoped his taste would be singular, unique.  But I kept my eyes closed and just swallowed the remainder of him down.  My boy had cum in my mouth for me, and I knew there was no way I’d ever turn that down.

I got off my knees and climbed his body, kissing his form along the way.  “You’re so beautiful, so strong… ómorfo agóri, moró mou…”  Then I was standing, looking him in the eye, though he was a couple inches taller than me.

Jason just took my face in his hands and kissed me.  Then it was me who could have collapsed, but I held myself together, wanting to enjoy the real kiss I only sampled through my window at the car wash.  There were constellations in my head, static running up and down my spine.  My boy knew how to kiss, a long double press of the lips, but he didn’t try and force his tongue through, gauging my reaction.

I’d kissed my boy many times, but not like this.  A love kiss, a kiss of passion, like this, was not something I had contemplated with him until today.  But I wanted it, and kissed him back as he was.  Touching him was new, sucking him was new, why not enjoy this new experience?  I purposely put away any feeling of being his mother.  I just wanted to be a woman, right now.  My hands went to his back, holding him.

My face still in his hands, he pulled back to look at me, a curiosity, perhaps a fear, in his eye — was this alright? he seemed to say.  After a blowjob, how could a kiss be wrong? I thought!  But I just smiled back at him.  I didn’t say ‘Oh, Jason, this is so wrong,’ or ‘Jason, we should never do that again,’ or ‘Oh, Jason, what are we doing?’  I just smiled and waited to see what he would do.

He took my hand and led me to his bedroom, that’s what he did.  I followed and kept pace, did not drag my feet in apprehension, did not stop to turn off the television or pick up clothing.  I followed my son into his bedroom, let him pick me up, and set me on his bed.

Then Jason finally removed my panties.

He threw them off to the side, somewhere in his room, and I was never to get them back.  He stood at the foot of the bed, bracing himself with one knee on, like when we spoke at the couch, earlier.  He remained still, contemplating my pussy, my dark featheriness.  I opened my legs for him — not spread wide, but enough to get a clear picture of my vulva, enough for my labia to split open.  His hand cautiously drew near my dark pubes, just that hint of a tremble, yet.  Nothing was going to stop what we were about to do, I was fairly certain of that, but I had a sense that my all-man boy would back off if I shied away. 

I did not shy away. 

If anything, I grew wetter, waiting for his touch.  His middle finger found the line of hair that ran north from my slit, and then his others fanned out as my hair did.  I saw a thin smile of satisfaction grow on his face; he was touching his mother’s pussy — it was real, I like to think it meant.

He moved away and shut off his bedside reading lamp.  His bedroom door was still open, so there was enough light coming from the living room that we could see more than shadows.  He climbed on the bed, laying full-length with me, and our hands found each other in the dark without too much trouble.  I had forgotten about his sunburn and felt him flinch when I drew my hand across his shoulder.  Then my boy kissed me, again.  And he didn’t stop while he caressed my breast.  In a bit, his one hand traveled south; he wanted to get back to my pussy and played in my pubes.  He ended our kiss so he could move down and suck at my breast.  In the quiet of the room, I could hear a faint, “…tits… so long…” in his exhale, while his hand found my folds and my clit.

It was a good thing we weren’t kissing when he touched my clit, as — “Ahh-ohhh!” — I gasped and needed all the air I could get in recovery.  His touch had some brilliance.  He trailed along the sides of my labia to my entrance and dipped inside.

“Mom… you’re so wet… you’re sssssso wet…” he murmured, looking up at me from my breasts.  He gained that look in his eye that all men get, that hunger, that knowing that I was hungry for him, too.  As much as he’d shown me that he loved tonguing my nipples, he shifted and moved down my body.  “I have to…”

He opened my legs further and made himself at home between them.  I watched as he looked up at me from my vulva.  The look in his eye…  If he could, I think that he would have actually taken a bite of my pussy like it was an apple!  There was desire, there was lust, there was… his tongue on my clit!

“Oh, god!” I had to finally scream.  My body reacted, bending and clenching with the pleasure.  I convinced myself to lay back, but stroked his sides with my feet, held onto his still-damp hair with my fingers.  It had been more than a year for me for this experience, and … now… it was more than just having some man go down on me again, it was the sensation of who it was.  It was my Jason, my son, eating my pussy, sucking on my clit, licking my…

My boy knew what he was doing, I realized.  There was wisdom in his tongue.  Well, there was something to be said for all his girls he’d paraded back-and-forth this past year.  Which of them had taught him how to do this?  I recall being a little judgmental of all the older girls, the Juniors and Seniors he dated while still a Sophomore.  What were all those “old ladies” doing being interested in my Jason? I’d harrumphed back then.  Well, I knew, it was just something I had learned to accept.  Almost as soon as he and his Iris had broken up, the cheer squad and all the swimmers and gymnasts descended upon him.  I’m pretty sure he lost his virginity to Iris, but I don’t know if she was worldly enough to teach advanced cunnilingus.  Perhaps the next girls were, and then word spread.  Either way, I was the one enjoying his talents, now.

In my fog, in my whimpering, with my head rolling side to side, I realized that Jason wasn’t just writing out the ABCs on my clit, he was using a combination of…

And then it hit me.  I could feel it churning inside me, building, welling up.  Sometimes, for me, an orgasm can be sudden, but this one was warm, slow and warm, filling me like water rising in a sinking caïque.  Little contractions warning me a big one was coming.  And then the wave hit!  I clamped my thighs around poor Jason’s head as I shook, the intense feelings of pleasure rocking me as I came inside his mouth, this time.

“Jason!” I called, probably several times, maybe a hundred.  If the neighbors wondered who was making me cum, I sure let them know, I guess.

I have no idea if I ripped out his hair, or kicked him as I convulsed, I just knew my body was rising and falling in the wave until I washed up on the sand like Danaë and started breathing again.

I opened my legs and released my son’s head.  His face still had that same look, that hunger, but with a devilish grin of pride.  He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, and then lifted up, crawling up above me.  I grasped his head and pulled him toward me, needing to kiss his face over and over again, showing thanks and love for sharing that…

And his cock slid right in me.

I was so wet that his cock, his big, lovely, hairy cock, pointed right at my pussy as he moved, slid right inside me, pausing only briefly as my body reacted, and then pushed on until our pubes met.

I wailed an “Aaahhh!” but Jason knew it was not from pain.  It was what I’d wanted to feel all day, and having him enter me like that…  He was big, and he fit.  He fit!  It was like his cock was made for my pussy!

Several minutes ago, back in the other room, I had put off thinking about what his cock would feel like entering me, and now I knew.  It was wonderful.  It was heavy, it was prodigious, it was hot, it was soul-melting.  It was reality-shifting.  It changed everything I knew.

On one hand, I should’ve been feeling ‘how can I live with myself, now?’  But I was actually feeling ‘how can I live without this, now?’

My hands left his head and my arms tied themselves around him, holding him fast to me.  I tried not to hit his shoulders, but that was unavoidable in my scramble.  My legs and feet twisted and locked him in place.

His cock was perfect, and now it was inside me.  I was fucking my son.

No.  My son was fucking me.  He couldn’t endure the extended stillness that I was enjoying, just feeling his cock inside me.  He needed to move.  He needed to thrust.  His engine started, his hips pulled back, and his thick, wonderful cock speared inside me, again.  And again.  And again.  My son was fucking me and I was loving it.

He pushed himself up out of my grasp, but stayed above me, looking into my eyes as he fucked me.

“Oh, Jason… Jason… I can’t believe you’re…”

“I’m fucking you, Mom.  Ah, god, I’m fucking you…” 

“Oh, yesyesyes… fuck me!  Fuck me, Jason!” I shouted, and then whimpered, “… fuck me… fuck me… fuck me…” as he did just that.  I closed my eyes, but when I opened them again, he was still above me, looking into mine, with a look like he adored me.  I pulled his face down and we kissed while he pounded me, but I was on short time.

I pulled away for air, I needed to breathe.  An orgasm was building, again, and it was going to be strong.  How could it not be when all I could think about was that my son was fucking me.  I threw my arms wide.  I was falling limp, weak.  I could barely focus my eyes, watching Jason take sure pleasure in fucking me.  My shoulders and back began spasming.  “Jason, oh, Jason, you’re making me cum again.  You’re making me cum!  Ahh, oh, fuck, Jason…  Jason?”

“You gonna cum for me, Mom?”

“Yeah, I’m going to cum for you…”

“You gonna cum for me, Mom?”

“I’m cumming… I’m cumming for you… for you, now!”  My body quaked, my arms flew back up to him, and he withstood my erratic swats and caresses, while I just moaned my rapture and released my juices.

“There’s that cum… there’s your cum,” he sighed.  “Give me your cum, Helen.  I need you to cum so I can keep fucking you… so wet…”

He’d used my first name.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that when I heard it, but I was in no shape to bring up the point.  I just didn’t want him to stop.

He sat back on his knees and wrapped his arms around my legs, pulling my knees up to his chest, still fucking me.  As much as my legs needed to quiver, he was now in control of my legs.  He pulled me upward, tilting my pelvis.  “Look at that pussy, look at my cock going in and out of that pussy.  I’ve wanted to fuck this pussy for so long…”

I had to look, as he’d asked me.  I know men are visual when it comes to sex, but I had to agree — watching his cock slide in and out of me was as wondrous to see as it was to feel.

“Tell me this isn’t a one-time thing, Mom…” Jason asked, probably at the exact right time for me to give him the answer he wanted.

“Anytime… anytime… you can have me whenever you want… that cock… your body…” I muttered almost incoherently.  “My son…”

“Good…” he breathed.

“Will you make love to me all the time?” I asked in my stupor.

“Day and night,” he declared.  His fucking picked up speed.  His body began to waver, his shoulders were fucking me as much as his hips were, now.

“Are you…?” I barely whispered.

“Mom, I’m going to cum.  I’m going to cum in you,” Jason breathed.

“It’s okay, baby.  I still take the pill.  Go ahead, baby,” I said, breathless.

“Mom?”

“What, baby?”

“I don’t care.”

My eyes bugged from the realization of what he’d said and my orgasm started again, dropping another pint of fluids.  He thrust his cock one more time, as far into me as he could, and blasted his cum deep into my womb. He let my legs drop and they shook, my whole body quivering, and I screamed something like “Oh, god…!” but the words got stuck in my throat and came out in a cry.

Jason dropped onto me and held my arms tight against my sides, and he held still inside me, still in that same thrust, so I could feel each of his cum shots filling me, the thick head of his cock spasming.  I could feel Jason cumming inside me.  My boy had fucked me and was cumming inside me.  Filling me with his cum — two, three, four, five times.  He held me so tightly that I couldn’t move, only shake, only shudder and cry.

Finally, he needed to fuck again, and gave me some freedom, but then continued his thrusts inside me.  He needed to make sure every ounce of his cum was inside me before he started to ebb.  His hold on me slackened, and he lay down on me, but propped himself on one elbow, and shifted his weight to my side, legs still entwined, while one hand went back to my breast.

I continued my aftershocks, which only made his hands roam, again.  But he was gentle, stroking my sides and breasts and thighs.  As I regained my breathing, his fingers came to my cheek, and my son kissed me again.

“Oh, Jason…” was all I could get out.  Half of my brain knew what we’d just done, felt the guilt, what it all would mean, what the implications were, and wanted to talk it out.  The other half of my brain told it to just shut up and enjoy it.

Jason’s cock was still inside me.  How could I not enjoy it?

My hands found his back.  I dragged my nails over his skin, and I could feel him react to them in a little shiver.

“Jason, I love you, baby…”

“I love you, Mom.”  Then he added, for me, “Eísai i agápi mou.”

He kissed me again.  My Jason kissed me again, and then he slowly pulled out of me.  I know he did this so he could fall to our side, and not crush me, but I felt the loss of his cock when he pulled out, a loneliness, a sadness that I…  And it went away when Jason found position and cradled me in his arms.  He cradled me.  I was safe.  I was loved.  In my boys’ arms.

“S’ agapó méchri ton ouranó, méchri to fengári, méchri ta astéria,” I giggled.  Something I used to tell him when he was a baby, but it still applied.

He started humming “Swinging on a Star” back to me.

It had been a long day.  We both could easily have fallen asleep, but there was still too much adrenaline flowing, our skin was still alight, our lust mixed in with our love.

It was a moment, maybe two.  Maybe ten minutes or twenty.  I had no concept of time, I was so happy.  Eventually, it registered that I was still in Jason’s room.  He had brought me here, not necessarily like one of his girlfriends, but that’s what he did, operating in familiar territory, his home court.  We didn’t stay in the livingroom, we didn’t go to the larger bed in my bedroom, we were here with his games and toys, clothes and uniforms, photos and posters taped to the wall.  And his scent on the pillow.  That alone would help some nymph swoon in his arms.

“Somewhere in there…” I started, knowing I was breaking into our moment, “you called me ‘Helen.’”

Jason breathed a laugh, joining me in the breaking, “Yeah, I just tried that.  With what we were doing, I just… had this passing thought that you… might want me to…?”

“I think I still prefer ‘Mom.’  And it’s hotter that way, don’t you think?”  I wanted to wink at him, but he wasn’t facing me right.

“I’ll say,” he sighed.

I looked at what I knew to be his team photo on his wall, though I couldn’t make out a single face.  “So, you and Hector…?” I asked, leading.

Jason rolled his eyes.  “Hector and I have been doing that since we were kids.”

I kind of thought so.  A mother realizes these things, but she is never supposed to ask about it, so long as her boy airs his room out and cleans the sheets now and then.  I’ve washed Jason’s sheets for near seventeen years, I’ve seen the stains but turned blind to them long ago, whether they were caused by himself, a friend, or him and his girlfriend.

Talking about it is supposed to be his father’s business, but I don’t think Jason needs any advice.

“Do you and Hector do… anything else?”  I was pushing it, but I was interested.  Here I was, lying naked with my son, holding his cock, him rolling my nipple.  I could ask.

“You mean have I fucked him?” Jason half-laughed.  “Well, now that you know… yeah, once or twice.  But that was… before high school.  Before we got girlfriends.  That hasn’t happened since, probably, 7th or 8th Grade, now…  But jerking off?  That’s just fun!”

“It was fun to watch,” I admitted.

“You liked that, huh?” he smiled.  “You want to watch me fuck Hector?”

Oh, my god… I hadn’t even considered that.  That would be wild.  “I’d like to, but no.  Hector should probably remain a one-time thing.  Don’t let him think every time he comes over that I’m going to show him my boobs or that he even has a chance to fuck me.”

“He’s always wanted to.  A few of my friends have asked, joking or not joking.”

This hit me.  Not that I wanted to start patrolling the high school parking lot, but just the idea that younger men found me attractive.  Hector always gave me some compliment.  Jason had said I didn’t know how “hot” I was.  Maybe I was selling myself short.  Maybe I could up my game when I go out with Ariana.

“Well, I’m not going to fuck Hector.  Or any of your friends,” I warned him, though I did not promise that I wouldn’t masturbate to the new fantasies.  “I would like to see that Jimmy, though…”

“Really?  Hang on.”  Jason got up and went to his dresser and got his phone.  My god, was he going to call him?  I put out my hand to stop him when I realized what was up.  “Want to see a photo of him?”

Jason ran his finger along his phone and then turned the screen toward me.  And there was Jimmy, stark naked with an erection, a shock of dark brown hair above his cock, and that nice smile of his.  And his pecs, arms, and abs — can’t forget those.  I took the phone from Jason and pinched the screen to make Jimmy’s cock larger, not that it needed to be.  I took a chance and swiped the screen and was presented with another wrestler I instantly recognized, then the twins, and then a girl, and another girl, all nude.

“Whoa, don’t go spying, please,” Jason asked and held out his hand.  Guiltily, I handed the phone back.

“So many,” I realized.  “Why do you have a photo of Jimmy and…”

“Oh, they’re like trading cards.  We take ‘em, we send ‘em.  Jimmy’s hot, so I didn’t delete it, and I’ve fucked his sister a couple times.  She’s in there, too.”  I could tell Jason was looking at me, figuring me out.  “You want me to send you the good ones?”

“Yes,” I said, weakly.  He did not do this immediately, though; he just put his phone on his nightstand.  I asked, “Do you… use those photos to…?”

“I use a lot of stuff.  Mostly what’s in my head.  I don’t have a photo of you,” he smiled.  “I need to cum, like, three times a day, so…”

I curled into him.  Ran my hands across his chest and down his abs to his cock.  “I can help you with that.  Maybe I could be one of your times each day?”

“You kidding?  I’m gonna fuck you before school, and I’m gonna fuck you to sleep.”

“Think you could you fuck me while I make dinner?” I joked.

“I’m gonna fuck you while we eat dinner!”

We both had to stop and laugh at that one.

“You’re not mad, though, right?” he asked me, his eyes showing that worry about reality, reminding me he was yet a teenager.

“Oh, baby, no.  No,” I told his eyes.  “The PTA might think I’m a bad mother, but I’m not upset.”

“Good, because I really wanted this.”

“I’ve wanted this, too.”

I could hear a happy sigh.  “I’d wondered.  From that kiss you gave me in the car…”

“The kiss I gave you?” I reacted.  “You leaned in and kissed me.”

“Well, I was going for your cheek, but you turned into it and got my lips,” Jason recalled, his way.  “Not that I’m complaining.  It was cool.  I got this electric tingle from it, and I’ll admit I held on for an extra second.  You’d kissed me a million times, but this time it felt different.  It felt… I don’t know.  Like I could do it again.”

So, he thought I kissed his lips.  The moment created itself.  “You can do it again,” I told him.

With that, Jason smiled, and we kissed, tenderly, for a while.  Then he turned me onto my back and, as promised, he fucked me to sleep.

End of part two

Copyright 2025 – Tommy Linarcos
All rights reserved

Jason’s Mom and the Wrestling Team Car Wash – Part 1
By
Tommy Linarcos

My son Jason’s high school Wrestling team was holding a summer car wash, so how could a mother not support them?   The team was funding new uniforms — and if you’ve ever known someone in wrestling, or watched a wrestling match, you know those uniforms — those “singlets” — get used, abused, and stretched.  There’s not much to them — they’re just thin spandex or nylon or lycra, and they’re form-fitting until they get stretched out.  These things can be pricey.  The school’s gone on the cheap before, and then after they got pulled or torn, we parents wound up buying new ones for our kids, anyway.  So a fund-raiser was a nice idea.

The coach got permission from the town to take over the parking lot and, importantly, water access of a shut-down restaurant on the corner of two busy streets near the school, so there would be good visibility and, hopefully, a lot of impulse customers.

And, best of all, it was wonderful weather — a nice, hot, late August day!

Jase and his friends had raided my garage that week for cardboard and then took over the living room to make signs for the event.  They made pretty good signs — very amateur but the lettering was clear.  None of those “think ahead” spacing errors or incorrect spelling.  Part of me almost wanted to see some bad spelling, like where the R is backwards, like in those Little Rascals shorts from the olden days, but the team didn’t need that kind of ‘dumb jock’ image for the public.

No, those boys had an appeal all their own…

On that Saturday morning, Jason’s friend, Hector, came to pick him up.  My two Greek heroes.  They were walking to the event to save parking lot space for the wash.  Both left the house just in their swim trunks, a t-shirt, and sandals or flip-flops.  Jase wore his yellow suit that showed off what was left of his tan.  I told them I’d be by with my Corolla in a little while. 

Hector is a cutie, like my Jason — like a lot of the boys on his team, actually.  But as an adult, that’s all I’ll say.  I mean, I know what a good-looking male looks like, what a healthy body looks like, and all of those boys have very healthy bodies.  Certainly, I like looking at them, the boys on the team and their opponents, but no one admits it, nor talks about it.

The last thing I want is to be discussing a match with another mother next to me in the bleachers and drooling over some young stud.  “My, Helen, look at the ass on that one!”  “Look, Jimmy’s gotten a hard-on, again!”  “You can smell the testosterone tonight!”  “C’mon, buddy, the match is over — pull down the top of your suit!”  “I think Tyler is hitting the protein powder a little hard.  Is he trying to move up a weight class?”  “What do think that one has?  Six inches?  Seven?  Eight?”

There’s a lot of eye-candy for a divorced mother, and the boners happen but you laugh it off and pretend not to see them.  Seeing as many matches as I have, it all blends together, and you just get into the sport and rules and scores, and support your boy.

But when I pulled my car into the Wrestling Team Car Wash lot, that all changed.

There was a line-up of cars, already, and it split into two lanes.  I thought I’d come early enough that I could get my car washed, then head out on some errands, but it was evident I’d be waiting a bit.  Not that I minded.  God, not that I minded in the least.

The flesh.

Both the varsity and JV teams were here, clad only in swim trunks or Speedos, and soap.  And cheerleader girlfriends in bikinis providing “support.”

I might as well have been watching them in slow-motion. 

Seventeen-year-old gods spraying the cars down with the hoses, and spraying each other, all of them wet, flinging water off their hair, the droplets running down their pecs and over their abs, getting lost in their suits and somehow finding their legs. 

Fifteen- and sixteen-year-old heroes manning buckets full of soap, with giant sponges, lathering up themselves and each other as much as they were the cars.  The suds rolling over and off their bodies, only occasionally being sprayed off as the cars were rinsed.

Two titans on the curb with entrance signs — “We Need New Uniforms.”  One “naked” wearing only a tiny cardboard box around his waist, the other in an old singlet with holes in it — mostly holes with just enough spandex to keep it attached to his body.

And ageless, beautiful, young huntresses and goddesses and sorceresses frothing the soap in the next bucket, “helping” the boys hold the hoses, bringing in fresh towels, grabbing a sponge themselves and getting in there to assist their boys.

Laughter.  A song on the radio.

Water spraying across the sky in a mist, a rainbow appearing as it refracted the sunlight. 

There were no shirts, all flip-flops had been abandoned as trip-hazards.  There were only smiles, muscles, and a few inches of cloth covering what could still be seen, anyway.

It was like I was watching some soft-core movie on Skin-amax through the anonymity of my windshield.  I had to have someone beep their horn at me to realize it was my turn to drive forward.

I lowered my window and gave the naked Heracles with the cash box my ten dollars, and a walking bikini with dark hair named Athena directed me into the right lane of washers.

Two sets of warrior pectorals attacked my vehicle with hoses, spraying me down.  Yes, they were spraying me down.  I was getting wet.  Yes, I was.

A nearly naked Penelope waved me forward, and I put my vehicle in park.

The Argonauts set upon my car with the sponges.  I didn’t know which window to look out of.  I turned to my left — pecs and nipples and suds.  To my right, lats and a set of biceps stretching out across my windshield to lather my view.  As suds dripped down, only more flesh became visible as a bikini let slip the bare breast of some Atalanta bouncing up to wash my roof.  Through my mirror, I could see Perseus sliding over my trunk as he washed my rear window.  I could only assume some satyrs or harpies were cleaning my lights and rims as the soap dripped down over me.  The last two I saw, twins Castor and Pollux, made sure my hood and grill were licked clean.

Someone was speaking to me at my driver window.  I shook my head and came to.  She was beguiling, with the clearest green eyes.  Circe.  I didn’t need to roll down my window, I knew she wanted me to pull forward.  But my hands weren’t on my wheel.  They were in my lap, I realized, my right hand actually touching myself.  When had I done that?  I nodded, found ten-and-two, applied the brake, shifted gear, and moved slowly forward.

A siren in a Speedo slowed me down and directed me into a spray.  I would have done anything she told me.  Triton and Thetis cooled my ardor with the sea.

But when I looked out my window, I finally saw Jason.  He was working the other lane and didn’t know I was there.

Of course, I’ve seen my boy before.  I’ve seen him at home and at play.  I’d seen him in numerous stages of dress and undress.  I’ve seen him in his singlet.  I’ve seen him in his bathing suit at the pool and the beach on family vacations.  I’d seen him in new school clothes, a three-piece suit, and shorts and a sweatshirt.  I’d seen him in his sport.  I’d seen him be a boy doing boy things with his male friends.  I’d seen him take his girl out on a date, and bring her back to his bedroom.  I thought I’d seen him in his element.

But I’d never seen him like this.  Standing nearly naked with soap dripping off his brown curled hair, he asked a young nymph to spray him down.  Two came to his call.  He put his arms up and out, laughing with that smile of his.  His muscles were larger than I’d ever noticed, or just better defined, or just…  They glistened, the droplets picking up the sunlight and sparkling toward my car.   His waist tapered into his suit, which was bunched up from having worked on a car’s lower panels.  I knew he had good abs, but in this light and shadow and mist, the definition of his six-pack was etched in.  He turned.  Even his back had muscles…  and the lower curve of his rear end showed from the bunched-up suit.  My son had a nice ass.  His hairy legs were solid and colored wet by the spray.  His bare feet rose from the puddles and looked like they could hold up a church.  But he wasn’t bulky like a football player eating his parents out of house and home.  This was tone and…  My son was the best-looking man I had ever seen.

The girl was eager to wipe him down with a cloth.  There was a giggle and Jason just laughed with her, some Medea giving him the Golden Fleece.  He was sporting an erection, sideways in his yellow suit, and was proud of it.  Being a wrestler, he’d gotten used to that.  I thought I was used to seeing it, but perhaps only so when he was on the mat, in the circle.  Someone shot him with the hose again, to cool off his erection, from what I could hear through the window and bustle.  He laughed, and did not strike out.  The suit clung to the shape of his shaft and the darkness of his pubes showed through the yellow material, but he paid it no mind.

He directed others to go somewhere, to get something or do something, and they listened to him, nodding and moving.  Someone asked him a question, and he answered with authority.

I was seeing my son in his own element, one where he was admired, respected, desired.

I was directed to pull forward, again, out of the spray-down and a troop of hoplites wiped down my car with bath towels.  Apparently, they either hadn’t heard of chamois or there weren’t enough, and I worried the towels might not be clean enough after a good wash, but I wasn’t going to stop them.

I looked back to try and see Jason one more time before my wash was done.  He was not there.  I fixed my side mirror, which had been moved when washed, and then I saw Jason in it.  He was at my window.  He knocked.

“Hi, Mom!  You made it!” he called in to me.  He turned, as if to tell everyone that I was his mother and I was here, but all were busy.  I was proud that he was happy I was me, even if he couldn’t tell anybody.

He stuck his head in the window and gave me a kiss.  I’m not sure if he meant to, but he kissed me on the lips, and I did what I could to hold it a second longer, my hand finding his damp hair by his ear.

“Got to get back to work,” he said.  “See you later!”

My lips tingled.

Three nymphs came to guide him back to their lane and their water and their soap, doing all they could to touch him as they moved.  It was evident how they desired him.

And, I had to admit, I was one of them.

My drying over, I drove forward.  There was one more station, where an older gentleman, a King Theseus, sat next to a “tip jar” with a sign describing it as a “pizza and hot dogs fund.”  I laughed as I said hello to him, and crushed a twenty into the coffee can.  For what I just experienced, if for nothing more than that kiss, I would have dropped a fifty!  He handed me a crayoned ‘thank you’ card and a team schedule for the upcoming season.

Finally, there was a hand-drawn sign with a funny picture of Batman on it: “Did you enjoy your wash?  If your other car is the Batmobile, why not drive that one here next and help clean up all of Gotham!”

That was a fucking great idea.  I drove straight home, skipping my errands.  I borrowed my neighbor’s car (an older woman who rarely gets out but is nice to talk to over the fence), and made my journey across the Aegean all over again.

* * *

When I got home the second time, I couldn’t help myself.  I went right to my bedroom, closed the door, stripped off my clothes, and flicked the bean for all I was worth.  Images of the boys, and Jason, and that one girl’s bare breast pressed against my window, and Jason, and Jason’s erection, and Jason’s body, that naked boy with the box around his waist, and Jason…

I came twice just from the memory.  I didn’t even close my eyes, I could see the images on my ceiling.

And, perhaps more than the images, I thought of Jason’s kiss.  That single peck that lingered.  I could see him, leaning in the window, going for that ‘hello’ kiss, that ’thanks for coming’ appreciative kiss, but he went for my lips, not my cheek.  Did he mean to do that?  It lasted longer than it should have.  Did that extra second have intent?  And I moved forward — I know I did.  I leaned into that kiss, as much as I could have for that single, short instant, and I made it last just that little bit longer.

I could still feel the tingle, the thrill shooting up my spine into my brain and across my shoulders.  The surprise.  The sensation.

And I was left with the desire.

Kissing my nearly-naked son.  Pretending I was touching my naked son.  He’d kissed me, could he actually want an old… could he actually want me?  Or at least to see me, touch me?  Could he ever actually want to fuck me?

So, from my imagination, Jason without his suit, Jason naked, Jason naked and hard, Jason in my arms, Jason making love to me, Jason’s face as he fucked me…

I exploded again and again.

I don’t know if I napped, afterwards, but I floated in a daze, sated, for sure.

When I arose, I had to open my window, even with the air conditioning on.  The room smelled like sex, although it was all self-abuse.  The sheet could use a changing.  The house was mine, though, until at least after five, when the event ended, plus clean-up, and I didn’t know if Jason would come home even at that point.  He had friends to hang out with.  And somewhere in there would be pizza and hot dogs.

Rational thought had returned to me.  How much had I just made out of a simple, quick kiss?  Well, it was fantasy, after all.

But where had those thoughts come from?  Of course, as a mother, as a woman, I’d wondered how he looked as he grew up.  But I’d never had a fantasy of having sex with my son.

Had I?

I couldn’t be sure, anymore, because now I surely did have one.

I dressed simply.  Shorts and a pullover.  I couldn’t bring myself to put on a bra and ‘dress up,’ again.

It was a little after six o’clock when Jason and Hector came back.

“Hey, Mom.  I’m home.  Hector’s with me,” Jason called.

“Hey, Mrs. T,” Hector waved.  “Ah, the face that launched a thou…”

“Oh, stop it.  You guys back for good or…?” I asked.  As a mother, I wanted to ask if they’d had enough to eat as I didn’t make any dinner that night, but I knew they’d raid the fridge, if they needed anything more.

“No, getting changed and heading back out.  Suit’s dry-ish, but gonna chafe, you know?” Jason pulled at his yellow trunks.

“Got to look good for the ladies,” Hector added.  I noticed him noticing me, my breasts and bare legs; I should’ve put on another layer.  But it felt good to be noticed, even if it was just Hector.

“You guys stay busy?”  I was stopping them.  I’d been alone too long.  I needed to talk to someone.

Jason came over and put one knee on the couch, did not sit.  He would stay so long as I needed him, but it was obvious he would leave as soon as he could.  “Line never stopped.  We were busy right up until the end, though business tapered off the closer we got to ‘dinner time.’  We had to send someone to the store for more car wash soap.  We started with a few bottles of the good stuff — Turtle Wax or Rain-X or something — but wound up with more bottles of the cheap stuff.”

“So, do you know how much you raked in?” I asked.

“Not the exact total,” Hector said.  “But Jimmy and Coach counted out the piles of cash a few times so that all the money didn’t fly away every time Dora opened the cash box.  Now we have to trust Coach not to run away to San Monique with it all!”

“Damn.”  I was impressed.  “Sounds like you got your uniforms, then.  And maybe extras for when some Wheaton kid doesn’t trim his nails.”

The boys laughed.  Wheaton was a joke to all of us.

“And, we can order the fancy ones — you know, with a fierce ******* on it instead of just our school name,” Hector imagined.  Pardon me if I leave the name of our school and mascot out.  It’s quite recognizable and I don’t want any searches for ‘wrestling moms’ after I tell what I have to tell.

“Hope so.  With all I gave today, it’s like I bought a uniform or two, anyway,” I laughed.  The boys looked at me oddly — like how much did I pay?  “Well, I drove through twice, and hit the tip jar both times.  I probably bought your pizza, too.”

“Twice?”  Jason looked impressed and pleased.  “I only saw you the once.  I would’ve said hi.”  And gave me another kiss, perhaps?

“That, um… I kind of thought your army of volunteers would be all blousy school t-shirts and… but all you sexy men… and muscles… and the girls… there was this wave of flesh attacking my car…”  I feigned fanning myself from the heat, which was not far from the truth.

“See that?  Even your mom thinks I’m sexy!” Hector grinned.

“We decided ‘sex sells,’ and there was nothing better to get cars in that lot than seeing our guns and pecs!” Jason declared, though he didn’t define ‘guns.’  I assume he meant arms or biceps, but seeing his erection earlier, I’m not sure.

“And who was that with the cardboard box on the curb by the driveway?” I recalled.  I drove past him too fast and he was wearing sunglasses.

“Oh, that was Jimmy in the tiniest Speedo!” Jason laughed.  Of course, Jimmy.  He’d been to the house before, and I’d seen him wrestle.  The team nicknamed him Achilles, like Brad Pitt in Troy, the boy could just grab his opponent, jump to the side, and stab him in the neck.  Well, that’s what Brad Pitt does; Jimmy just puts the boy down and pins him in one move.  The other teams hate to see him approach the circle.

“Jimmy?  How’d he fit in that box?” I laughed.  The boys looked at each other and laughed even louder, catching old Mom here in a bit of confession.

“You going to shower before you head out?”  I got off the subject.

“Nah, think I’m clean enough for tonight.”  Jason showed me his fingers, still a little pruned from all the water.  His hair was a little flat, but he was just going out with friends.  Unless…

“Meeting Penny?” I asked.  His current girlfriend.

Hector looked at him, biting his tongue.  Jason hesitated.  “We’ll see.  Little trouble there.  But I’ll smell good, just in case.”  He took his knee off the couch cushion.  He wanted to end my interrogation.  I let him go.  He and Hector went to his bedroom and closed the door.

I put on the TV in the kitchen and made myself an egg salad sandwich with some arugula, and had a couple leftover keftedes.  There was still some coffee, but I dumped that out and poured myself some Arizona Iced Tea, instead.  I don’t know what I wanted caffeine for.  With Jason out being social, and his sister away at her first year of college, and no plans with any of my own friends, I was going to be alone tonight.  I thought about who I could call.  Maybe I could go find my girls and we could bowl, or something, or get a drink.  I got ahold of Ariana and we decided we’d do something.  I wasn’t going to shower, again, I just took my top off for a quick clean-up.  I was in my washroom when I thought about whether Jason thought he was going to take the car.  He might be leaving soon.  I put on my robe and secured it tightly.

I went to Jason’s room.  I knocked.  “Hey, Jase…”  And I opened the door.

I didn’t think.  I’d done what a good mother is never supposed to do.  I didn’t wait for him to respond before I opened the door.

Jason and Hector were sitting back on the bed, propped up at the wall, their bathing suits hanging at their ankles — Jason’s just hanging off of one foot, their cocks in each other’s fists.

They were frozen in action.  They didn’t remove their hands, they didn’t panic and dive for cover.  They just froze, staring up at me.  Caught.

I didn’t immediately apologize, back out, and close the door.  Oh, no.  I couldn’t.  Before me were two mostly naked boys, the opposite as I’d seen them at the parking lot — they still had their shirts on, but not their bottoms.  I was fascinated.  It was beautiful.  I couldn’t move.

But I had to do something.  Inside, I wanted to see this.  I didn’t want them to flip over and scream.  I wanted them to continue.

I pulled my sash and opened my robe, showing them my breasts.

Somehow it felt ‘equal,’ somehow it felt ‘fair’ after my intrusion.

I could see the boys’ reaction in their eyes.  And then I saw them start jerking each other, again.

They couldn’t take their eyes off me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of their cocks.  Their jerking started as a nervous pounding, and then it picked up speed as they found their technique.  Both of their breathing immediately became labored, and Hector started a rising pitch in his staccato “ah!”s, but it was Jason that blew first.

A single breath that sounded like, “Oh, god,” accompanied a rocket blast of cum from his cock, straight up, higher than his head, followed by a second.  The cum shot was so clear to me, the pearly white goo firing up in front of his black t-shirt.  On the third shot, his head fell back, but he still couldn’t close his eyes, staring at my tits.  Hector had stopped pumping him and Jason’s cock fell forward, cum shooting in a spray toward me.

Hector had joined him on Jason’s second shot: his first blast had some height, but from the second on, his cock bubbled and oozed cum out of his cock head, gushing like thick white lava.

Both of them shuddered and trembled, catching their breath, as their cum diminished to dribbles.  Their eyes looked to mine.  We just held each other’s gaze, though I was looking only into Jason’s.

“Clean him off,” I said.  I didn’t say it to either one, in particular, but Hector quickly went down on my boy.

Jason swallowed, and finally moved a fraction while Hector sucked his cock.  He looked back at my breasts, then back up to my eyes, a look of ‘what does this mean?’ in them.

I didn’t have an answer, yet.  I just nodded, floated backwards from the room, and shut the door.

Once on the other side, my wits came back to me.  My god, what had I done?  But it was… so damn erotic, so damn hot!  I don’t know if I’d ever fantasized about seeing my son cum, but when I saw him in that room, I needed to see it, then.

I closed my robe, as if that actually needed doing, and made my way back to my bedroom, my message about the car never delivered.

I put on some attractive but casual clothes that, luckily, I had picked out before I watched my son’s orgasm, his cum exploding all over his face, his hair, his shirt, his cock, and his friend’s hand.  I looked for my shoes but saw Jason’s eyes, looking back at me, while that first blast of cum launched before his face.

I heard the boys going back and forth to the washroom.  Some quiet chatter I couldn’t make out, then we met in the living room, all of us ready to head out.  Jason’s brown curls had been taken care of, and he looked very presentable and stylish in jeans and a royal blue button-down, his sleeves casually rolled up for an evening of socializing.  Hector’s jet-black hair had been wet-combed, but he was still in his trunks and t-shirt.

“I’m… I wanted to tell you… that I’m taking the car tonight,” I told them.  “I’m meeting Ariana and I won’t be too late.”

Jason nodded.  “I have my keys.  We’re gonna stop at Hector’s, get him changed, and meet up with the others.  I don’t know how late, but…”

It was awkward, to say the least.  I could tell both of them were looking at me, now, with full knowledge of how the swell of my tits hung, how red my nipples were.  And I was the same with them, though I might argue that I didn’t have as clear a view of their cocks as they had of my breasts, but I did find out how hairy they were.  Either way, yes, we were talking about anything but that.

“Okay.  Be good.  Be safe,” I told him.  Them.  Mostly him.

Jason patted his pocket, the just-in-case condom.  “Always.”

The boys went out the front door, and I took the back door to the garage.

End of part one

Copyright 2025 – Tommy Linarcos
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