Teens

Fiona and the International Scheme – Part 2

Fiona and the International Scheme – Part 2
By
Tommy Linarcos

The next morning, just before 10:00am, Scott called home and checked-in with his dad, making sure there were no plans as he was going to spend a little more time with his friends.  Then he took a shower.  He half-wondered if Pete was going to surprise him and try to join him, but he did not.

He wanted to brush his teeth, but didn’t want to borrow Pietro’s toothbrush.  He’d just had the guy’s cock in his mouth, Scott shrugged a laugh, but using the guy’s toothbrush was just too personal.  He opened a drawer or two in the sink vanity, looking for a dentist-provided cheap spare, maybe, and found three 8-packs of soft brushes.  Pietro’s mother must buy them in bulk, he thought.  Scott selected a blue one.

Through the washroom door, Scott could hear a little commotion, some quiet conversation.  His clothes were still in Pietro’s mother’s bedroom, so he’d have to navigate the hallway in a towel, no matter who was out there.  Too early for Fiona and Seabass.  Hopefully, it wasn’t Pietro’s mother.  That would be… well, maybe she knew all about Petey’s conquests.  But no parent wants to find out their bed has been used.

Scott borrowed the hairbrush on the counter, whosever it was, and brushed back his brown locks, looking slick.  He wrapped the big white towel around him, secured it at the waist, and opened the door.

“Hey… Pete?  Is it okay to come out?” he called down the hall.  “My clothes are still in the room.”

“Scott?  Yeah.  Come on out,” Pietro returned.  “In fact, can you come here a minute?”

Scott really wanted his clothes, but at least this meant that it probably wasn’t his mother come home a day or two early.  He kept a hand on the knot in his towel and cautiously made his way into the frontroom.

Pietro hadn’t dressed yet, himself; he was still only in his black boxer-briefs.  Though Scott’s towel had more square footage of material, at least the boxers were actual clothing.  The other person in the room was —

“Scott, I believe you know Al…”

Scott gave Pietro a withering glare.  What are you doing?  Why did you call Al?  What do you expect will happen?  And here I am, standing almost naked in front of this guy.  How do you deal with this?

Scott turned to Al.  Whatever the deal was, it wasn’t this guy’s fault.  Al Schroeder was a blonde stunner.  His straw-colored hair looked like he’d just finished rough-drying it with a towel straight out of the shower, himself, except it stayed that way, and looked perfect.  A little curl to it, similar to Scott’s own brown hair, though he’d have to wait for his hair to dry for them to spring up.  Al’s eyebrows were a little darker than his hair, and Scott suddenly wondered if that would stay true over the rest of him.  There were a few sun freckles across his nose and the tops of his cheeks, and it looked like he had a snaggletooth, but Scott couldn’t be sure — not that it marred his appearance.  Al was wearing a simple yellow pullover and a pair of khaki shorts, his shoes already removed and placed near the door.  Scott knew the guy had muscles from gymnastics, but he wasn’t a powerlifter or a bulky football player, so those muscles were comfortably hidden until he wanted anyone to see them — again, similar to himself and his fellow swimmers.  Although, his own muscles were certainly now on display for Al.

Scott turned on his smile, tightened his grip on his towel, moved forward into the room, and extended his right hand.  “Hey.  Good to finally meet you.  Although…” he indicated his bare chest and the towel, “I wish I’d been better prepared…”

Al grasped Scott’s hand and shook it.  A good, dry, firm handshake, while his eyes unmistakably checked out Scott’s pecs.  “Hi.  Yeah, don’t worry about that.  It’s not like…  Anyway, yeah.  It’s like I always wanted to get to know you, too, but we’re never in the same place too often.”

Pietro tugged at Scott, making him take a seat on the couch, not letting him leave to get changed.  Al moved with him to take a seat on the couch, too.

“So,” Pietro looked back and forth between them, a big smile on his face, “talk…”

“Petey, you’re an idiot,” Scott cast at him.

“We actually have met, you know,” Al said, bringing Scott’s attention back.  “We were at the movies, together.  Well, not together, but you were there with some guy, and I was there with my friend.”

Scott knew this.  “Yeah, I remember…”  He let a smile grow, as if he were just now recollecting it.  “Danny and I went to see James Bond, and they were cleaning the theater, still, wouldn’t let us in.  We were sitting on those cushy benches.  And you were there.  We got to talk a little.  Kinda like this, like now.  What were you seeing, again?”

“I was with… no one special… it turned out… and we were going to see Dune,” Al recalled.  “I saw you two there, and I knew you, and I couldn’t just ignore you, or give you a chin wave,” he laughed.  “We’d have walked in and just gone, ‘Hey, that was Scott Walker.’  And I wanted to really say hi.”

“I’d seen you before, when I’d watched Pete perform, once,” Scott pulled up, “but those gymnastics meets take forever.  Everyone’s all over the place, nine events going on at the same time, everyone’s so far away.  No big screen to watch like in the Olympics.”

Al nodded with a roll of his eyes.  “Same for you guys.  I went to a swim meet, once, because of his boyfriend,” he nodded toward Pietro.  “Even though there’s so much skin, I couldn’t tell who anyone was, and then half of you are wearing caps.”

“So you might have seen me win, but didn’t know it was me,” Scott smiled.

“I didn’t say I didn’t know it was you…” Al smiled with his eyes.  “So, at the movies, you could have come to watch Dune with us, there were plenty of empty seats.”

Scott shook his head.  “It was opening weekend for Bond, otherwise, maybe, if you’d invited me to…”

“Hey,” Pietro interjected, “are you guys still shaking hands?”

Scott looked down and realized that the handshake that led to sitting together had never really ended.  His hand was now between both of Al’s.  It just felt nice.

“Sorry,” Al laughed, and released Scott.

Scott just looked askance at Pietro.

“So, um, Pietro told me to come over because he was working on a project,” Al said.  “Are you in this, too?  What’s it about?”

“I’m a project, now?” Scott muttered.

“It’s about… getting Scott comfortable with being with me for pretend, so he can be with Fiona for real,” Pietro let on.

Al seemed disappointed.  “You brought me here as a hired gun?”

Pietro was caught in his explanation.  “We have a plan.  We have to be together when her and Sebbie get here, and then we’ll make them want to swap.  We split them up and get who we really want.”

Al looked at Scott.  “You really want Fiona.”  It was not a question.

“I think I’m in love with her, and I can’t stand to see her with Seabass, so I’m willing to go along with this scheme, and I hope…” Scott trailed off.  He shook his head.  “Oh, I don’t know.  This is stupid.”  Scott started to stand up.

Pietro saw his plans starting to fall apart.  He had to keep Scott here.  He could apologize to Al anytime, but he had to keep Scott from leaving.  “Hey, look, don’t get up.  How about a drink?  Scott?  It’s still morning for you?  Are you a coffee man or juice or a good wake-up Coke?  Al?  Something for you?”

They both just looked at him.  Pietro rambled on as he got up and left for the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know he’d drag you into this,” Scott said.  “You don’t have to stay.  I don’t even know if I’m going to stay.”

Al reflected a moment.  “Tell you what.  Let’s… see what you need for this to happen… so long as I’m here.  Maybe this can make sense, after all.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be a part of this.  I just told him…”  Scott let that fade, shaking his head, a little embarrassed.

But that piqued Al’s curiosity.  “Told him what?”

“I told him…” Scott coughed a nervous laugh, “I said I wasn’t attracted to him, I didn’t know if I could ‘practice’ anything with him.”

“He is kind of ugly,” Al joked, trying to relieve Scott’s tension.

Scott laughed.  He could leave it there, but with Al in front of him, his blue eyes in front of him, something made him say, “But I said I was attracted to you.”

Al smiled, and, yes, there was a snaggletooth — the one between his incisor and canine, on his left side, just a little twisted.   Al leaned in toward’s Scott ear; it was just the two of them in the room, but he spoke like they were sharing a secret.  “I was hoping so.”  He leaned back out, but continued whispering.  “He said you were here and would I like to meet you.  I’ve always thought you were hot, but I’d like to know what makes you tick.  Not just, like, you know.  But like, friends.  Maybe we could be friends.”

“I’d like that,” Scott said.  Then he grew a wicked smile.  “But in full disclosure, I should tell you that Petey told me your real name, Adalbert.”

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Al laughed.  “It’s a family name.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Where I grew up, before I moved here, my friends knew it.  And a couple would say At-Albert, or Fat Albert.  I wasn’t fat, but there used to be this cartoon guy called Fat Albert,” Al shared.

“I can’t picture you fat,” Scott snickered.

“I hope you never will!”  Al looked down at his chest.  “Hey, can I do something without it looking like I’m doing something?”

“I… guess?”

Al pulled off his yellow shirt and tossed it on the back of the couch.  “You guys are, like, naked, and I’m still fully dressed and it’s kind of awkward.  Like if you were the one naked guy in a room full of… dressed people.  But opposite.  I’d rather be like this, anyway, like when I go skateboarding.”

“I used to, when I was a kid.  But I wiped-out too many times.  I can’t afford to get broken, anymore.  Got too much going on,” Scott said, speaking to Al’s eyes, but taking in his chest peripherally.  “Where’d you used to live?”

“California.” Al said it like he missed it.  And he did.  “I miss it.  I used to surf, too.  We moved because of my dad’s work.  But I’m trying to go to college out there.  I want to go back.”

“Fond memories?”

“Oh, yeah.  But I know it’ll be different now I’m not a kid, anymore.”

“Still have to pay for tuition and rent and food out there, too.  Can’t just live on the beach.”

“Oh, you can.  We saw a lot of homeless guys trying to do just that, but I don’t want to wind up like them.”  Then Al leaned in, again, “That’s where… with my surfing buddies.  I was young, like twelve, thirteen, but that’s where we played gay.”

Scott nodded his understanding.

Al asked to Scott’s ear, “Are you bi?”

“I don’t know,” Scott whispered back.  “That takes opportunity.  I see a lot of naked guys in the locker rooms, but it hasn’t done anything for me.”

Al saw Pietro about to walk back in the room behind Scott, carrying two glasses of something orange.  He made a quick hand motion that Scott couldn’t see: get-out-of-here!  Pietro turned around without missing a beat and retreated back into the kitchen.

“Would you like to take the opportunity to do something with me?” Al asked him.

Scott knew his answer, but gave it a beat, anyway, as if he had to think about it.  “Yeah.  With you, I think I would.”

Al drank that in, finally let his hands start roaming Scott’s chest and abs.  Scott took this cue to do the same, this time in full daylight and knowing that he wanted to.

“You owe me a secret,” Al told him.

“This may be the biggest one I have,” Scott shrugged.

Al shook his head.  “You know my name.  You got to give me a fun secret.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m not going to tell, like Pete did.  And I won’t call you Fat Albert or anything.”  He drew Al closer in.  They couldn’t look away from each other’s eyes.

“Better not!” Al tickled his side.  Scott flinched, but it did not continue.  Al still kept his gaze.  “I’m going to tell everyone my name is really Alucard.”

Scott picked this one up immediately.  “That’s Dracula, spelled backwards.”

“You are quick,” was the last thing Al said.

Scott moved in and kissed him.  There was no hesitation.

In his mind, Scott had to divorce himself from the idea that he was kissing a boy, and it wasn’t that hard.  He was kissing this person.  He was kissing Al.  He wasn’t worried about being called gay.  And it wasn’t ‘oh, I’m trying something so daring!’  It was more about not having been attracted to any boy.  He knew what a good-looking body was, and a lot of his teammates had them.  A couple of his other friends, too, but many of his other friends weren’t in a sport.  There were a few guys he wanted to see nude, wanted to check out in the lockers and showers, was curious about, but he never thought about kissing them or giving a blowjob or… fucking them.

In his mind, it was the idea of kissing someone he desired.  And he could be okay with that.  Normally, he desired a girl.  Today, he desired Al Schroeder, and he’d see how much he’d let himself go.  Not to think about it.  Just to be with this person.

Making out with Al was hot, exciting, yet comforting.  This was the thing you did with someone you cared about.  The thing he could not do with Pietro — he cared about Pietro, but he couldn’t kiss him, couldn’t get that personal; he wanted it to be this personal with Al.

Pietro had silently made his way back in from the kitchen and set the two glasses of orange juice on the table.  He didn’t want to disturb the couple he’d created, though he was a little bit jealous.  He’d see if he could add himself to the mix, but not now.  He took his seat on the easy chair next to the couch and let his hand drop inside his boxers.

Al allowed his hand to drop onto Scott’s waist, pulled the tuck out of his bath towel, and drew the side away.  He ran his hand through Scott’s pubes, pulled on them with his knuckles, then grasped his cock, getting familiar with it.

“Finally,” Scott breathed inside Al’s mouth.  “Did you think you needed permission?”

Al laughed, and had to pull away to avoid clashing with Scott’s teeth.  “Everything in its time.  You’re still way ahead of me.”

“Yeah, you still have too many clothes on.  Stand up,” Scott commanded.

Al disengaged from below but held on for one last suck of Scott’s tongue, then stood.

Scott admired Al’s muscle tone.  “Damn, you’ve got good shoulders.  I thought mine were good, but I’ve watched you do vertical push-ups.”

“You’ve got that ‘swim layer’ on you, but I could feel the sinew underneath,” Al admired back.

Scott undid the button and zipper of Al’s cargo shorts and let them fall to his knees.  He took the waistband of his red boxerbriefs and just yanked them down in one swift move, making Al’s cock bend forward and spring back against his body, making a loud thwap as it hit.  Only then did he pull Al’s clothes down past his feet and took the time to get rid of Al’s ‘stupid little socks.’

He felt his way back up to sitting, running his hands along Al’s legs to his waist.  This wasn’t something he’d feel comfortable doing with any other guy, but Al wasn’t any other guy.  They all knew some kind of sex was about to happen, and Scott allowed himself to explore.  Since he was in the right position, he decided to take first crack, and got the feel for Al’s cock.  He noticed Al’s trimmed brown pubes.  “You see, Petey, men have hair.”

“You don’t like Pete’s shave-job?” Al wondered.

“No.  Makes his dick look like my little brother’s.”

“Your little brother has a cock this big?” Pietro asked, lowering his boxers and tossing them away.

Scott nodded.  “He does.  Runs in the family.”

“Still have to suck it, later on,” Pietro teased, openly stroking.

“But I have to suck this one right now.”  Scott took Al’s smooth, cut cock into his mouth and applied the lessons he’d learned the night before.  Al’s cock wasn’t as thick as Pete’s, so Scott could get more inside, go further down.  He began a gentle bobbing, getting familiar with it, not pushing to get it all in but taking it as he could.  Again, there was no real taste, but he did smell better than Pete.  Scott thought only briefly about that and let Al’s scent be the beach, in his mind.

An appreciative groan from Al let him know he was doing okay.

He found he had more room to use his tongue, so he did, and he scraped lightly with his teeth.  He was determined to find Al’s spot — was it at the split in his head? the nub of skin at the scar? just under the whole corona?  He was enjoying getting better at this.

Pietro made his way over to the pair.  “Save the towel.  Could get messy around here.”  He shifted Scott’s legs and sought to get Scott’s cock for himself.

“Get out of here, that’s mine in a bit,” Al called down.

“See? That’s what happened the other day when Sebbie and Fee came over,” Pietro whined, stroking Scott’s cock, still.  “I’m here, I’m available, I want to have fun, but they pushed me away.”

“That’s what we’re going to fix,” Scott said, pulling off to breathe, then licking Al’s shaft.  “You get Sebbie off of her, and keep him off of her.  Fuck him, suck him, whatever, just make him yours.”

“Oh, yeahhhh,” Pietro confirmed.

“And you’re going to make Fiona yours?” Al asked.

Scott stopped and looked up.  “Yes.”  He considered the cock in his hand, the helmet turning purple the more he held it at its base, the smooth shaft and the short brown hairs, the ring so light it almost wasn’t there, the tight package of balls.  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want this.”  He sucked the cock back in and started a fast bob, grabbing Al’s behind with both hands.

“Have to warn you, I didn’t get a chance to jerk off this morning before Pete called me,” Al said.  “Barely had breakfast.”

Scott, keeping his mouth in action, just made a ‘gimme’ motion with his hand.  Al grabbed onto Scott’s head, locking his fingers in his hair, closed his eyes, and put himself into the zone, not just enjoying the sensation of being blown, but allowing himself to be triggered, allowing himself to cum.

Scott could tell there was a change, but wanted to make sure Al knew.  He paused.  “Cum for me.  I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”  Then he went back into action.

Al’s hips started shifting and his shoulders dipped, looking like he was having trouble standing.  He held tight to Scott’s hair, but one hand went to a shoulder.  “Fuck, I’m… fuckin’… ahh… Scott… I’m… gah!”  Al shot one small load into Scott’s mouth, followed by a huge load.  Scott held Al’s cock head at his lips, trying to allow him to rock but not to plunge into his mouth as the next five loads shot inside.  Scott did his best to swallow the hot cum, though some of that second load was still inside.  Quickly, he got it down and was able to take Al back inside and clean him off.

Al collapsed onto the couch, but pulled Scott back down with him, holding him until he was conscious, again.  “Oh, you’re learning fast…”

“I have to give that to Pete.  He told me to think about what I like and try to do that,” Scott said.  “I’ve had some talented people to try and copy, so I hope I did okay.”

“You’re fine…”

Scott ran his hand across Al’s chest, making sure to graze his nipple.  There was a freedom to all this, he felt, allowing himself to try something new.  He considered the cum still in his mouth.  And considered it, again.

“What did you have for breakfast?” Scott asked.

Al opened his eyes, a playful sparkle in them.  “Eggo waffles.”

Scott thought half-a-second.  “The Cini-Minis?”


“Yeah…”

“What about yesterday?”

“French toast,” Al was ready to laugh.

“What about dinner?”

“Baked ham and applesauce.”

Scott swished around the remaining cum in his mouth.  “It’s working.”

Al laughed out loud.  “It actually worked!  Cool!”  He leaned forward and kissed Scott, trying to taste any of what he’d given him.

Pietro was feeling left out of the joke.  “What?  You fuckers gonna tell me, or…?”

“You know how diet affects your taste?  Like pineapple juice….  He’s been doing cinnamon,” Scott reported from Al’s chest.

“I did Starbucks and Cinnabon yesterday, too.  I didn’t know I was coming here, but… um… surprise?” Al laughed.

Scott sat up and downed the glass of orange juice Pietro had brought him.  “Now with vitamin C.”  He looked over his new friend.  Al had a bit of a glow to him, or it might have just been his blonde hair and the lighting.  Some people just looked naturally good naked.  Scott handed him the other glass, which he drank down quickly, too.

“I’ve got some energy, now,” Scott said.  “I don’t know…  Can I…?”

Al smiled back at him.  “Can you what?”  He wanted him to say it.

“Can I fuck you?” Scott got out.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t… sex is fun, but I shouldn’t ask —”

Al shut him up with a kiss.  “You totally can.”  Al then nodded at Pietro, who left for his bedroom.  “Now, how do you want me?”

“Intensely.”

Al actually blushed.  He came back with, “Unconditionally.”

Scott smiled — inside.  This new friend.  All the new sex was fun, and all this opening-up and trying new things was…  But he was really enjoying making this new friend.  Part of him was comparing the sensation to his feelings for Fiona, but he didn’t want a conflict inside.  He shook that down.  He looked at his friend, great body and all, and just wanted to enjoy all of him.

“On your back okay?” Scott asked.  Al nodded.  “I don’t know if that’s harder or easier, but I want to be able to see you.  See your face.”

Pietro returned with a small bottle of lube and a three-pack sleeve of condoms to find Al sucking on Scott’s cock, getting him primed.

“I don’t think I’m ready to try eating…” Scott apologized.

“That’s okay.  That’s why Pete got the lube.”

“Do we need the condoms?” Scott asked.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Al told him.

“If I’m going to do this, I want to feel it.”

Al got into position on the couch while Pietro went about lubing the two of them up.

“This I tried with Cindy, my old girlfriend, but we didn’t get very far,” Scott told them.

“It’s going to be easier with me,” Al advised him, “but don’t start hammering me right away, okay?”

Scott snickered, then got onto the very serious business of penetration.  He stood between Al’s raised knees, lined himself to his hole, and pushed in gently.  Al was right — it was a lot easier than when he tried it with Cindy.  Still, it took three pushes to get his head inside right, and then it wanted to slide forward, but Scott didn’t give in to haste.  He took it easy but kept moving forward.  He hit a pause as Al clenched a little inside, so pulled back slightly, looked up at Al’s eyes.  Al nodded and Scott felt him relax, and gently pushed again until his pubes met Al’s balls.

Al groaned, “Oh, yes… god, I love your cock.  This is gonna be…”  He reached his arms out to hold Scott at his waist and help him find a speed and a rhythm as Scott drew back and filled him up, again.

Scott tried to equate this with fucking his girlfriends, but it was so much tighter.  He hadn’t had a sleeve this tight since he lost his virginity at thirteen with another 8th Grader.  The lube helped but it was still different from a pussy.  Scott was trying to be careful, didn’t want to hurt Al, not knowing that Al was waiting for him to let go and start giving him what he could.

Pietro clambered aboard the couch close to the couple.  He wanted to offer his cock to either mouth, but neither was paying attention to him.  Finally, Al opened his eyes and saw Pietro’s need.  “Take it easy, Pete.  Don’t push it.  Save what you got for Sebastian.”

“You guys are driving me nuts.  If I hadn’t cum last night…”  He wound up kneeling and running his hands along the both of them.  Al offered his hand to Pietro’s cock, but just gave it a gentle stroke, didn’t want to provoke an eruption.  “I don’t need your pity,” Pietro said, but then smiled as Al laughed.

Scott had no idea why the other two were laughing.  He was concentrating on the sensation.  He wondered if he could ever get a girl into a “DP” situation, but doubted something like that would happen to him in high school.  Maybe college.  He saw Fiona in his mind.  It actually caused him to skip a thrust.

Al caught that.  He let go of Pietro and leaned up, sitting up, but holding onto Scott’s back while he still thrust into him.  Scott adjusted how he held Al’s legs, holding him to him.  Al kissed Scott and Scott kissed back.  “Stay with me,” Al told him.  “Clear your head and… fuck me!”  He leaned back and took Scott with him, turning and bringing Scott onto the couch with him lengthwise, now face-to-face horizontal.  Pietro made the way clear.

“You want this?” Scott asked him, trying to add some vigor.  He sped up his thrusts, started slamming into Al, finding no resistance.

“Gimme that cock.  Fuck me!

Scott went all out, hammering Al from the waist as Al held him tight to him, urging him on, covering his mouth and sucking on his tongue.  Scott had to pull away to breathe, at one point.  Al let him go.  Scott kneeled, again, and brought Al’s legs to his shoulders, lifting his ass, holding him around the knees, keeping him as tight as he could.

It was stopping him from cumming, though, and Scott desperately wanted to cum.  It was too much.  There was a straight-line connection from the coupling to his brain.  It was so tight, even without him holding his legs, he didn’t know if he could cum while fucking him.  He didn’t want to stop.  Al didn’t want him to stop.  Al kept urging him on with, “Fuck… fuck… fuck me! … oh, fuck…”  He had to do something.

Scott pulled out.  Immediately, the blood that had been restricted flowed again to his glans, and he began to stroke off.  Al dropped his legs and propped himself on his elbows, first feeling the withdrawal and then the realization of the loss inside him, but he recognized Scott’s actions, his need.

“I’m cum—” was all Scott got out as a first blast shot across Al’s abdomen.  Scott dropped his aim as the second, more powerful blast shot out, striking Al’s cock.  The next hit his ass as Scott sought to get back inside, tried to find that warm sleeve he’d just left, and came inside Al for the next two shots.  Al pulled back, denying any more cum inside him, and scooted forward, taking Scott’s cock back in his mouth, taking what was left and cleaning him off.

Scott fell forward, bracing himself on Al’s shoulders and back.  Pietro helped pull him back to sitting, “And then England and Germany created a whole new currency and…”  Scott put his hand up like he was going to strike Pete, but just lightly slapped his cheek, and dropped to his shoulder, giving that a light shake.

Scott lay splayed out, spent, lightheaded, breathing for recovery.  Al joined him, holding him around the chest.  “You have to buy me dinner now…”

Scott laughed, but actually thought about that for a second.

“Okay, gimme your secret,” Al demanded.

The secret of my abilities? Scott wondered, then remembered what Al wanted.  He coughed up the first thing he could think of.  “My middle name is Wilfred,” he breathed out.

“Not good enough.  I already did the name thing.  And everyone hates their middle name.  Need something better.”  Al scraped off the cum that hit his stomach and what he could of that which hit his cock, and put his finger in his mouth.  “You do a lot of fruit juice, I’ll bet.”

“Soda is empty calories,” Scott said, massaging his own cock.  “I do a lot of peanut butter, so I was wondering…”

“No, I don’t taste that.”  Al kissed him, again.

Scott opened his eyes, located Pietro.  “Pete, thanks for calling him in.”

“That’s what I do.  I’m just the butler around here.  Host of the economic summits…” Pietro griped from his position.

“Come here,” Scott offered.

“No, you guys are right,” Pietro said.  “I want to cum like a firehose for Sebbie.”

Scott did a quick mental check.  How much would he have left for Fiona, if things went that way?  He stroked off yesterday morning, no time after school because they just got ready for the concert, then he came in Pete’s mouth last night, and now for Al.  He’d had lots of time between all those.  And this one would prevent him from coming too fast, like a pre-fuck blow job.  He would be fine.

“How are you feeling?” Al asked him.  “You ready to go for more?”

“More?” Scott asked.

“Think you can handle me?” Al asked, but with concern, not as a challenge.  “I’d really like to fuck you back.”

Scott’s eyes got small as he went inside his head.  He’d done a lot in being open to having sex with these two guys, and he’d enjoyed it.  Getting blown, fucking… even in sucking him off, he’d had a sense of control.  Could he do this?  Like Pete had told him, allowing penetration takes a lot.  You have to trust someone, or… find them incredibly exciting.

He looked at Al, his smile — just a nice smile, not teasing, not joking.  His hair, his eyes.  His body, which felt natural to hold.  He was exciting.  If he was ever going to consider this, the time was now, and with this guy.  With Al, his friend.

“Yeah, we can do this.  If you help me.”

Al hid his smile.  He was pleased, but didn’t want to jump and shout.  “Have you ever…?”

“Well,” Scott considered, “a finger, now and then.  And Cindy — the girl who tried anal with me? — she wouldn’t do it unless I was willing to, too.  So she put a rubber on her Mr. Purple and put it in me, further than I got with her.  It was okay — weird but okay.  She didn’t try and do any ‘revenge boning,’ or anything.  So, it would still… really… be my first time.  With any passion, I guess.”

Al and Pietro arranged Scott on his knees, leaning forward onto the couch, saying it would be easiest this way, even though Scott thought he’d like to be able to see everything.  For the next ten minutes, Al lubed Scott’s hole and inserted one finger, then two fingers, drawing slowly in and out, and then was able to sneak in a third finger.  Scott began to protest, but realized Al’s cock would be thicker than that, though probably more comfortable as a single unit, like Cindy’s vibrator had been.

At some point, Al decided that Scott would be okay, and withdrew his fingers.  Nothing was following them in, yet, though.  Scott craned his neck around and saw Pietro sucking on Al’s cock, getting him ready after those minutes of neglect.

Scott felt a twinge of jealousy, then, seeing Pete sucking on Al.  Al was his friend, now.  He should have Al’s cock in his mouth.  But as soon as that feeling hit him, it left again, Scott realizing the ridiculousness of it.  He took a breath and cleared his head with a laugh.

Al took his cock in hand and played at Scott’s door.  “Just take it easy, now.  Breathe and relax.  Don’t fight me.”

Scott wasn’t nervous.  More curious as to what it would feel like.  Like going on a ride at Six Flags, you eat up all the tension waiting to get on the ride, you know it will make your stomach flip, but it will be thrilling, and you’ll love it when you’re all done.  You just had to remember nothing bad would happen to you.  Unless someone didn’t inspect the track that morning.  Scott shut down that thought.

Al started pushing, and Scott’s ass slowly stretched around Al’s glans.  He didn’t fight.  He didn’t tighten up.  He willed his asshole to relax and not prevent Al from going the wrong way.  And the head was in, and it was big.  Scott took a sharp, deep breath, and clenched.  Oh, my god, it’s huge! Scott thought.  He knew it was about the same size as his own cock.  But like your tongue knows every little thing that goes on in your mouth, his asshole now knew the shape and girth of Al’s cock.  He wasn’t going to let Pietro’s fatty get anywhere near his ass!

“Take it easy,” Al cautioned, his voice soft and meant-to-be-soothing, and slowly pushed his shaft inside.  He paused to let Scott get used to it.  “How does that feel?”

“It’s… it’s okay.  Might hurt a little, but I’m doing okay.  It feels weird.”

“That’s fine.  Try to push back at me, inside.  It’ll feel right as we get going.”  Al continued to push inside Scott until his short pubes met his ass.  “We’re there.”  He paused, again, to let Scott get used to the stretching.

“It feels… full.”

“Yeah.  It will.  And if you let it, it’ll feel good, too,” he soothed.  He drew his cock back but not out, then pushed his length back inside Scott.  He did this three more times, slowly and evenly, and then picked up the pace.

Oh, fuck,” Scott moaned.

“Good fuck, or bad fuck?” Pietro asked, off to the side.

“Good fuck,” Scott breathed.  “Yeah, good fuck.”  He helped Al find a rhythm.

“Don’t grip me, Scott.  Relax.  Tell me,” Al said.


“What?” Scott wondered.

“Tell me that secret.  The fun secret.”  Al picked up the pace again and enjoyed the fuck.

Scott realized what he meant.  Distract himself and enjoy it.  Without putting any thought into it, he came up with a secret.  Something he hadn’t thought about for years, but it just came.  His sister.  What he did to his sister.  Nothing really bad.  Just…

“My sister, she likes Alpha-Bits.  For breakfast.  The letters.  Oh-ohhh… The cereal with the letters.  She liked to spell her name with the little letters.  Her name is Shea.  S-H-E-A.  I was mad at her.  Hmmm…  I poured her whole box into a big bowl and took out all the Ss, all the Hs, all the Es, and all the… all the As.  And I ate them.  I put the rest back.  Oh, fuck… fuck me…”

“I’m fuckin’ you…” Al said, loving that Scott was into it.

“Shea wanted to know who opened her box.  I told her I did, that I wanted to see what the toy inside was.  And I gave her the toy, said I didn’t want it.  Hah-ah!  She was mad about that.  But she didn’t know about the letters.  I’d folded the bag inside right.  Then she ate her bowl, and she couldn’t spell her name because she didn’t have any of the letters.  Mmm…  She couldn’t do it that day.  She couldn’t do it the next day.  Not all week until it was all gone.  Fuck!

Scott put up his hand.  “Let me… let me get on my back.”  Al pulled out, and Scott felt the immediate loss, the zloop, the slide of Al’s cock taking a vacation.  Al helped him onto his back, and positioned his legs as he knew they should be, and slid right back inside Scott, zipped the whole way in, making Scott’s eyes bug, making Scott laugh at that, the whole effort just a matter of seconds, and hammered his ass as he had been.

“So, your sister… What did she do?” Al asked, keeping Scott in the zone.

Fuck.  Fuck!  She called the company, the Alpha Bits company, whatever it is.  Number was on the box.  Kellogg’s?  The thing with the weird G?  I don’t know-oh-ohh…  But she complained that the box we bought didn’t have her letters.  A week later, they sent her a coupon for a free box.  She goes to the store, gets a new box.  And I do the same thing to her again.  All over again!  Fuck!  What are you hitting in there?  Your skin is shiny.  Come down here.”  Scott pulled Al down for a sweaty kiss.  Al told Scott to keep going.

“Shea gets mad and calls the cereal company again.  The lady.  Oh, fuck me…  The lady on the phone.  She’s like, ‘They probably just didn’t run the wheels that make half the letters that day.’  For that, you know, that shipment, the fuckin’ shipment or whatever.  Those boxes were probably missing T and L and Z, too, she said, who the fuck knows?  But Shea didn’t check for those.  Right?  FuckJust her fuckin’ letters.  So the lady apologized, but didn’t send her another coupon, this time.  No!  Fuck no!  ‘Cause she thought Shea was scamming her.  You know?”

Al smiled, watching Scott’s eyes stare at the action, his hand keeping his cock interested while his ass was pummeled.

“But I was mad. And I never told her.  I never fuckin’ told her.  Fuck me!  And to this day, she still thinks the cereal company fucked up!

Al laughed, and he could because he was the one fucking, not getting fucked.  “She never found out.  That’s good.  But now I know.”

“Now you know.”

“And now… I’m going to come on you,” Al declared, and slipped out of Scott’s ass and started stroking.

“In me,” Scott breathed.  “Cum inside me.  This might be my only time.  I want to know what it feels like.”

Al hesitated, but it was a request he couldn’t refuse.  Scott’s ass still had enough lube and he slid himself back inside.  The suddenness of it made Scott’s eyes cross, but he recovered.  It took several more thrusts to bring Al to that point, again, but he grit his teeth and shot his load inside Scott.  “Grrrfffffuuuuuck!”

Scott could feel Al’s cock kick, but not individual cum blasts, just the warmth spreading, the liquid, the weirdest feeling.  He put his hands out to Al’s shoulders, propping him up, and then let him collapse down on top of him.  Both held each other loosely but securely, hearts beating, chests rising and falling on each other’s, breathing each other’s neck.

“What’s that wild scent you’re wearing?” Al asked Scott’s clavicle.

“Coast — the eye opener,” Scott said in his best Ryan Seacrest.  “And you?”

“Sorry, nothing so fancy.  Just Old Spice Sport.  Didn’t know I was gonna…” Al trailed off.  He raised himself, took a deep breath in and out, and looked Scott in the eye.  “Is this it?”

Scott replied but could not answer.  “I don’t know.”

End of part two

Copyright 2025 – Tommy Linarcos
All rights reserved

Fiona and the International Scheme – Part 2 Read More »

Fiona and the International Scheme -Part 1

Fiona and the International Scheme -Part 1
By
Tommy Linarcos

Scott fell into his seat on the couch, directly across from the human pretzel known as Sebastian-and-Fiona, knotted together on the love seat.  His beer was held out in front of him, appearing to bounce slightly in his hand, but maintaining its level like a human gyroscope, not spilling a drop.

“Impressive,” noted Pietro, sitting in the easy chair next to Scott.  “My mother would thank you for not spilling that.”

“No worries,” Scott said, then took a swig of his Busch beer.  It was probably on sale, the stuff Dusty Liquors gladly sold to high school students with bad mustaches to get it out of the store, so if it spilled, it was no great loss.  “Probably got some clean-up to do, anyway.”  He motioned to the other twenty teens strewn about Pietro’s apartment.  “Your mom’s not coming home tonight, right?”

“No,” Pietro almost laughed.  “Wouldn’t get away with this if she was…”

The post-concert gathering was reaching midnight.  Soon, the Freshmen and Sophomores would start looking to the Juniors and Seniors to see if anyone was willing to drive them home.  Scott was usually a soft-touch for that, but decided if he was too drunk, then he couldn’t be of any service.  When the current episode of Outer Banks ended, it was a likely bet that the whining would begin.

“You remember at Danny’s party?  That his mom was actually there the whole time, locked inside her bedroom?” Scott laughed.

“Oh, I remember, all right,” Pietro smiled.  “I was the one who tried picking the lock, when she opened the door and told me to fuck off before I ruined her door knob!”

“That was you?” Scott shook his head and had another drink.  “Who were you with, then?”

“Raymond, from Swim,” Pietro recalled.  “But not for long.  You were with Cindy, weren’t you?”

“Actually, we’d just broken up, so had no need for the back bedroom,” Scott winked.

“Shame,” Pietro decided, finishing his own beer.

Both boys then realized they were staring at Sebastian-and-Fiona.  Seabass and Fee.

“They arrived late, tonight,” Pietro realized.

“No they didn’t,” Scott told him.  “They were in the backseat of Danny’s SUV.”  Scott caught Pietro’s eye.  “Until I told those two Sophomores that they could catch them naked if they snuck outside and spied on them.  But the kids blew it.  Too damn noisy.”

“Sophomores…”

“What’s on your mind?” Scott asked him.  “Why do they have your attention — other than their furious making out?”

Fiona lifted her head and looked their way, quizzical, like she’d heard him talking about them.  Scott raised his beer in greeting, Fiona smiled at him, then went back to business.

“Let’s talk about politics,” Pietro offered, leaning forward.  Scott wasn’t sure what he meant until Pietro started in.  “So, Ireland and Mexico wanted some country to host their… economic negotiations.  They’d heard the queen of Italy was out of the country, so they asked the Italian president if they could come over and negotiate.”

Scott took a drink, his eyes furrowed as if the beer tasted flat; the beer was fine, but he was figuring out what the hell Pietro was talking about.  He still focused on the kissing couple eight feet away.  “Wait, Seabass is Mexican, right?”

“Yes…” Pietro said, quietly holding in his patience, “and I’m Italy, dumbass.  Pietro?  You know?  Mr. Pasta Fazool?”  Scott was a smart guy, Pietro knew, so which beer was he actually on?

Scott picked it up.  Fiona was Ireland, that was easy.  Mexico and Ireland wanted to come over to Italy’s place and…  “Did Italy wind up hosting the conference?”  He also picked up the bag of Jay’s Potato Chips no one was paying attention to and got about alleviating his munchies.

Pietro laughed with his eyes, knowing Scott was finally on the right page.  “Not at first, but he gave in and let Mexico and Ireland come over and use his… conference room.”

“Not at first, huh?” Scott observed, trying to speak with his mouth half-full.  “I thought Italy and Mexico got along okay…”

“They do,” Pietro assured him.  “But Italy was hoping that he could… pursue… economic ties with Mexico, himself.”

Scott took a long swig of his beer.  “So, what did Italy get out of the deal?  A case of cheap beer?  Or just the satisfaction of being a good friend?”

“No,” Pietro smiled.  “It seems that Mexico brought a gift from Colombia to help entice Ireland into the deal, and Italy got a little of it.”

“I take it that was how Italy was so generous at tonight’s soirée.”

“I’m a good host.  A good sharer,” Pietro said, falling off story.  “Charlie brought the cheap beer.”

Scott looked at the couple kissing.  “So, a closed-door session, and Italy had to clean up, later?”

“No and yes,” Pietro hinted.  This got Scott’s attention.  “So, it wasn’t exactly a three-way negotiation, but Italy was able to get his hands on Mexico’s peninsula.”

That made Scott chuckle.  “Italy got a taste of the Yucatán, eh?”

“Not yet,” Pietro admitted, dropping his smile.  “Just played in the sand.”

Scott took that in.  “And was Mexico successful in their negotiations?”

“Ireland gave him almost everything he asked for.”

“Damn.”  Scott finished his bottle.  “I was… England was… working quite hard to break up Ireland and Poland, and when that happened, England was hoping to reunify with Ireland.”

Pietro wasn’t sure who Poland was in their game, but figured it was Fiona’s old boyfriend.  “Why didn’t England say anything?”

“I did, I just didn’t want to be a rebound.  I thought I’d give her a little time to… recover from the winter recession.”  Scott picked the beer back up, but it was still empty.

“You like her.  Like, actually.”

“Yeah.”

Pietro put his hand on Scott’s shoulder.  “C’mon, you’re a good-looking guy.  Those brown curls, superhero chin, these shoulders… I’d love to see your abs…  Any guy or girl would say ‘yes’ to you….”

“Flattery,” Scott told his friend with the black hair and faded Mediterranean tan.  “But she’s the one I want.  The one I’m supposed to be with.”

Across from them, Fiona disentangled herself from Sebastian and walked down the short hall.  Scott watched her move, her grace, even in blue jeans.

Sebastian had Pietro’s eye for a moment, looking at him next to Scott, then frowned and found the TV.

“That’s why you sent the Sophomores outside…” Pietro put together.

Scott didn’t answer.

Pietro took a moment, found his own beer and killed that off.  “What if… it was time for Italy and England to form their own partnership.”

Scott looked over at him.  “Petey… you know I’m not…”

Pietro waved him down.  “Not partnership, then.  Um, alliance might be a better word.”  Scott’s curious look let him continue.  “What if… England attended the next economic summit, as the guest of Italy… and… Italy was able to distract Mexico while England pleaded his case for a merger.”

Scott was not convinced.  “England could do that any day at school.  England should do that someday at school,” he told the empty bottle.  “Distraction isn’t a…”

“Come here,” Pietro demanded, and led Scott into the kitchen to get fresh beers.  It was dark in there, only lit by the open fridge and one lighthouse nightlight.  “I’m talking about full engagement,” Pietro clarified.  “I’ve seen her naked.  They did it right out there,” he whispered, motioning back to the frontroom.  “I tried to join in, but you know I’m only interested in Sebbie.”

Scott got the bottle opener and popped both their beers.  “I don’t want to watch them…”  Scott did want to see Fiona naked, but that was not the goal, and he sure didn’t want to be a spectator to such an event.  It was hard enough seeing them make-out on the loveseat.

“They were able to just kind of push me aside,” Pietro continued.  “But with you there, we could all be ‘appropriately dressed’ and manage to… swap.  I help you, you help me.”

Scott was catching on, but realized it required some other form of participation.  “But you’re not talking about an orgy.  ‘Hey, let’s invite Scott and everyone fucks Fiona.’  You’re talkin’ me and you, and them two, then we mix things up.”

“And keep them that way.”

Scott didn’t drink, yet.  He was either going to tell Pietro to go to hell, or find a way to make this work.  “Pete, you’re a nice guy, you’re my friend, but I’m really not attracted to you that way.”

Pietro didn’t let the slight hurt him; there was no insult.  “I’m not talking about falling in love and becoming a couple.  Just playing around enough to make an impression.  Then we both get who we want, fall in love with them, and become couples.”

Two other people came into the tiny kitchen, and then Fiona exited the washroom.  She looked both ways down the short hall, and came into the kitchen, herself.  She looked at Scott holding his fresh beer, then asked, “Pete, do you have any water?”

Pietro went to the fridge, moving aside the two girls who just were standing in the open fridge door.  He pulled a short Aqua Pod and gave it to Fiona, then realized he shouldn’t be a part of this potential conversation, and excused himself and moved the girls along.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Fiona observed of Scott.  “Your part of the concert was a lot of fun, but you don’t seem like you’re all there, now.”

“I’m kinda stuck on Pete’s song, going through my head.  Kinda sad.”

“You or the song?”  She leaned on the counter, taking a more permanent spot.

“Both.  But not really.”  He’d brought up the point, but tried to play it down.

“You were really good in that 80s medley.  What’s that one song you did, with your sax?”

“I did two showpieces in that.  ‘Baker Street’ and ‘Careless Whisper.’  You probably mean one of those.”

“Yeah.”  Fee shifted the water bottle from hand to hand.  “You okay?”

“I was just thinking.  You wore this shirt, before.”

“Yeah, it’s an old shirt.”  A cute, white, long-sleeved henley, with blue stripes.  The three buttons at her neckline were open.  She tugged at her sleeves.

“No, I mean you wore that when we went to the Anti-Prom.”  Last spring, when all of their older friends were going to Prom, he and Fiona went off on a date of their own.

“God, you remember that?  That was a great night.”  Her smile lit up the dark kitchen.  “We took the bikes — you didn’t have your car, yet.  Pizza Palace, the forest, the river, the swings in the park…”

“You said you’d get your own bike and we could ride around the world.”

“That’s right, I borrowed your brother’s bike.  And then we dropped off the bikes and you walked me home instead of letting me ride and then pick up the bike the next day.”

“I had to figure out some way to make the night last longer.”

It got quiet, because Fiona remembered what happened next.  “You kissed me.”

“I sure did.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Why didn’t you ask me out?  Like for real?”

“I did.  You said you had to think about it,” Scott told his bottle.

“Oh.”  She bit her lip.  A couple other boys had expressed interest to her at that time, too, and she’d wound up dating none of them.  “That was kind of a crazy time.  And then I left for a month to North Carolina.”

“And when you came back, everything had changed.  We went back to just being us.”  Scott still hadn’t looked up, nor taken a drink of his beer.

“That was a long time ago.  Then you found Cindy.”

“You found Leo.  And now you’ve got Seabass.”

“Sebbie.”

“He’ll never be Sebbie to me,” Scott said.  “He’s Sebbie to Pete, though.”

Fiona just breathed.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you asked.  I’ve got a song in my head and that’s why I’ve got this.”  He picked up his beer.

Fiona just nodded her head, wiped off the bottle condensation in her hands onto her jeans, and headed back out front.

Scott let her go, then followed.  His seat on the couch was taken by some Freshman.

Pietro saw Scott enter.  “Hey, kiddies, it’s midnight.  Do you know where your parents are?” he called out to the masses.  “Better be nice to Charlie or Danny if you want a ride home.”

That started a small chaos where the underclassmen began negotiating.  A couple of them didn’t even know where they were, and probably could have walked home, but pleaded for a ride.  People asked if Pietro was kicking them out and how late he would let them stay.  Pietro assured them that he was fine with whenever, but knew some had a curfew.

Scott got his seat back and plummeted into it as he had done before.  He got about finishing the bag of potato chips, too.

Charlie asked why Scott couldn’t drive anyone.

Pietro found his old seat open, as well, and sat back down.  “Scott is wasted, if you haven’t noticed.  Only go with him if you never want to get home.”  He quite obviously took Scott’s hand and brought his first two fingers to his lips, licking off the salt.

Scott didn’t flinch, didn’t snap.  “I can drive…” he said to the ceiling.

Across the way, Fiona caught the action, stopped kissing Sebastian, and made concerned eyes at Scott.  Scott just laughed a little and shrugged to Fiona.  She laughed back, their eyes connecting.  Something to talk about, later.

Scott turned to Pietro, a new look in his eye.  “But what about…” he started, taking his fingers back.  “Mexico?  Is he…?  I mean, I always kind of thought he was, but…”

“Mexico is definitely bi-coastal, I can tell you that.  Atlantic and Pacific,” Pietro assured him.  He stood up and took the newly-opened spot on Scott’s left on the couch.  He took a swig of his beer, then set it down on the coffee table next to Scott’s.  “But one night with me, and he’ll sail the Atlantic for good.”

“So how am I supposed to be…?”

Pietro draped his arm across the sofa behind Scott, running his finger across his right shoulder.

Scott thought a moment.  God, he wanted Fiona.  He saw blonde Fiona’s ear and Seabass’s mop of black hair in some mashup that looked like a confused Muppet.  He couldn’t be angry at Seabass… Sebastian.  He just got the girl that Scott wanted, due to his own inaction, Scott knew.  And Pietro wanted Sebbie.  The plan, what there was of it, so far, could have some merits.  He was just too frustrated to think of what they could be.

“If this is going to work, start it with me, now,” Pietro whispered in Scott’s ear.

Scott, still in deliberation, threw his left leg over Pietro’s right, anyway.

“That’s it,” Pietro smiled.  His left hand found its way to Scott’s shirt collar and traced the button placket down his chest.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Scott said into his chin.

“We’re not doing anything, yet.”

“I don’t think I can kiss you, if that’s what you want.  That’s too personal.”  Scott slipped his left arm into the hole in the couch around Pietro’s waist, anyway.  “I don’t mean that to insult you…”

“I get it.” Pietro kissed Scott’s neck.  “Didn’t you ever kiss an ugly girl?”

“No.  All the girls I know are very pretty, you son-of-a-bitch,” Scott breathed a laugh as Pietro’s hand dropped further down, hovering at his belt line.

“Of course, they are.  Well, we’re just playing.  Can you pretend to have fun?  You might even have a little fun by accident, you know?”  Pietro massaged Scott’s jeans, tempting his cock to come to life.  And it did.

Scott turned to Pietro, and might have actually tried a kiss except that a round of goodbyes was pulling the party host away.  Pietro disengaged himself from Scott, got off the couch, and made sure nobody was stealing anything as they left.

Fiona and Seabass had hardly moved, but Fiona was staring at Scott, now, sitting alone on the couch.  “Scott?”

Scott picked up the scene.  If England and Ireland could…  Never mind that.  Just go with it.  “You see this?” He referred to the bulge in his jeans, the obvious erection.  “Gets me all excited then just leaves.  Bastard!”  He laughed and finally took a drink of his beer.  Look at what you’re making me do, Fiona… what lengths I’m willing to go through…  He was in it, now.

The greater mass of twenty teens shuffled out, leaving about six behind, including Fiona.  She turned to Sebastian and asked, “How are we getting home?  I’ve got until one, but…?”

“I live a block away, but you better get a ride,” Sebbie said.  “Will Scott take you?”

Scott stood up and crumpled the empty potato chip bag then took another swig of his beer.  He looked at his shirt and pretended to dust off chip crumbs, but there actually were some hiding there and they bounced off into the dim lighting.  “Not sure I’m the best guy for that, Fee,” he laughed.

Fiona uncurled herself from Sebbie, and called to Pietro at the door, “Hey, did Danny leave, yet?”

Pietro acknowledged her and called out to the street, “Hey, Danny, hold for one more.”

Scott stumbled across the room, playing Pietro’s suggestion.  “No, wait, Fee, I can drive you.  I’ll take you home, I’m not that bad.”

Fiona held Scott steady.  Not really, but Scott loved having her hands on him, even if it was for pretend.  “No, you better get some coffee in you, Scotty.”  She kept one hand on his waist as she reached for her jacket.

“Coffee won’t help,” Pietro said from the door.  “Then he’d just be a wide-awake drunk.  He can sleep it off, here.”

Fiona looked Scott in the eye with that pronouncement.  “You going to be okay?  You know what you’re doing?”

She was this close.  Thisclose.  He could just kiss her.  Kiss her right now.  Kiss her and she’d know what he felt for her.  But then he’d have to get into it with Seabass.  “I’m not sure.  I’m taking an option.”

“Scott…”

He stared at her.  He almost gave it away, he was going to tell her what he should have since she broke up with Leo.  He brought his hand to her cheek.  He was going to tell her that he was hopelessly, madly, incurably —

“Hey, if you’re going, you got to go, now!” Pietro called from the door.

Fiona fell back.  “Yeah, yeah…”  A final look at Scott.  “Be good.  Get some sleep.”  Then Sebastian walked her to Danny’s car.

Pietro didn’t lock up.  There were still a few left, staying later.  He wasn’t kicking anyone out.  Scott found his seat, again.

Two girls were running through the Netflix posters, searching for a title.  Too many rows were dropping by, too quickly.  “He’s got to have it on his list, doesn’t he?” asked the giggly one.

“Just go to ‘search,’ it’ll be faster…” said the other giggly one.

Soon, Series 1-Episode 1 of Di4ri was playing.  It was an Italian teen soap full of eye-candy.  Two girls, Pietro, and Sebastian all sat on pillows in front of the TV, pointing at the boys, one scene of which had them all shirtless.  One character’s name was ‘Pietro,’ and they were teasing the real-life Pietro that if he was as handsome as the TV Pietro, then…

Scott put up with the story, it was cute enough, but he couldn’t see the subtitles with all their heads in the way, and started debating on just getting out of there.  He wasn’t really drunk.  Well, he’d had three, maybe four, beers, but he was no lightweight.  And a hit or two of Pete’s joint, but he wasn’t feeling it, though.  A cop might feel he was DUI, though.  He was feeling alone, though.

Both Danny and Charlie had come back to the apartment after their runs, but the vibe had died considerably.  Charlie took the remainder of his beer and left. 

Danny pulled Scott aside.  “What are you doing?  What was all that before?”

Scott took a second to contemplate.  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted, but it came from somewhere.  “Talk to me tomorrow.  This is about Fiona.”

Danny nodded warily, then clapped his friend on the shoulder.  “Get some sleep.”  He wound up driving the two girls home.

“Pietro, your place available anytime tomorrow?” Seabass asked, putting his jacket on, noting Scott was embedded in the couch.

Pietro, cleaning up the remaining bottles, breathed out his reply, as if it were a burden, “Yeah… I mean, sure.  You guys can come over.  Make it sometime in the PM, though.  I don’t know what time I’m going to wake up.”

Sebastian pointed his chin toward Scott.  “Is he really spending the night with you?”

Pietro smiled, both inside and out; Sebbie was taking the bait.  “Well, I was serious that he could stay and sleep off his high.  He seems to be stuck to the couch.  But who knows?”

Sebastian looked back toward Pietro’s bedroom door, and then back to the front door.  “Do you…?”

“Actually, I’m kind of tired, too.  It’s been a long day,” Pietro told the wall.  It sounded like Sebastian was giving him an opening, but he knew it would probably just be a blow job, maybe traded blow jobs, at best, if he took him up on it.  That’s not what he wanted.  Sebbie’d sent Fiona home — let him go home, too, let him get worked up for tomorrow, Pietro plotted.  “Go on home, make your mama happy, and I’ll see you two sometime tomorrow when you get here.”

Sebastian breathed out his frustration, nodded, zipped his jacket, and headed outside.  Pietro locked up and shut off the big lamp.  Only the TV was still on.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” Scott snickered.

“Did you expect him to?  He’s not sure about you.  Can see it in his eyes.”

“About me?”

“Yeah,” Pietro noted.  “He sees you looking at Fiona, he sees you all close when she left, he sees you and me…  I said ‘no’ to a quick blow job.  He’s wondering what’s up and why he’s losing things.  And I’m hoping he’s confused about Fiona and what he’s doing with her, really.”

Pietro picked up the remote control and shut off the TV, leaving the apartment in darkness.  Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the glow from the streetlights sneaking in through the front window.  “Come on,” Pietro ordered, holding out his hand to help Scott up.

Scott waited a moment, then took Pietro’s hand and used the leverage to stand.  “Petey, what are we doing?”

“Going to bed.”  Pietro knew how that sounded and didn’t want to make Scott panic.  “I mean, you can leave, if you want to, but you really shouldn’t drive, and the bed is much more comfortable than the couch.”  He led the way back, while Scott was still attached to him.

Scott figured he could think clearly enough.  He went with Pietro down the short hall to his mother’s bedroom.  He could stop, he could balk, but he didn’t really want to.  Part of him wanted to do this.

The mother’s room had a queen-size bed, perfect for two.  Scott watched Pietro begin to remove his clothes.  There was no seduction.  Pietro was not kissing Scott’s shoulder like before, he wasn’t opening Scott’s jeans for him, he wasn’t whispering in Scott’s ear.  Scott pried off his own shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.  Pietro nodded.  When both were down to their boxers, Pietro opened up the covers and got in.  Scott did the same on his side.

“So,” Pietro started, “about the plan.”

“Yes,” Scott acknowledged that he was willing to discuss it.

“When Fiona and Sebbie get here, we want them to see us in action.  And it has to look convincing, not like it’s the first time, like we just started when the doorbell rang,” Pietro said in the dark.  There was one window in the bedroom, but the light leaking in was a very dim blue/green, and difficult to see eyes, even.  “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting to fuck you in the ass tomorrow.  I want to fuck Sebbie in the ass tomorrow.”

“So what are you expecting me to do?” Scott asked.  There was no fear in his voice, just business.

“We’ll have to be intimate.  Hands.  You said kissing was too personal, but you’re going to have to kiss me.  Or let me kiss you.  Maybe trade blow jobs.  We’ll see when it’s the right time to make the switch.  It won’t happen as soon as they walk in.”

“No, I knew that,” Scott admitted.  Like Pietro, he had been thinking about how the plan might proceed, too.  “And we need a reason for us to stay in the same room, instead of them asking to come in here or your room.  We want them to join us.”

Pietro was impressed that Scott had thought this out, too.  “So what are you willing to try?”  He moved closer to Scott under the covers and let his hand find Scott’s abs.  “Ooh, these are nice.  I still can’t see them, but they feel nice!”

“Glad you like them,” Scott almost laughed.  He slid over a little more, himself, let his hand find Pietro’s arm then slid up to his shoulder, then glided down onto his pecs.  An action… not normally done guy-to-guy, but here, with a purpose, Scott could give in to expectation.  He knew Pietro had suffered a couple small injuries on the school’s gymnastic team, but those were just strains he recovered from, but when he’d really wrenched his knee on the wrestling team this past winter, he was out for both sports. Still, he’d kept up his exercise.  His shoulders and pecs were quite… healthy.

Pietro smiled in the dark.  Scott was open to something!  “Have you done anything before?” he asked.

“Middle school stuff,” Scott admitted.  “Danny and I figuring out what our dicks were for, what they could do.  What it felt like when you let someone else do it for you.”

Pietro let his hand drop down off Scott’s abs and into his boxers, immediately meeting his hardening cock.  He wrapped his hand around it and made sure it was hard.

Scott breathed in with the sensation, brought his hands back and pushed his boxers down and kicked them off deep inside the comforter.  “When I said I don’t want to kiss you, I didn’t mean you’re ugly — like you said did I kiss an ugly girl.  You’re just not my type, you know?  I mean, I know you’re a good-looking guy, just not for me.”

“Don’t worry.  I know you didn’t mean it that way.”  Pietro’s hand found the length of Scott’s cock and began a gentle stroke.  He curled a little and began licking the nipple he’d teased earlier.   “So, what is your type?”

Scott chose the obvious answer.  “Fiona’s my type.”

Pietro wasn’t going to let him off that easy.  “I mean, if you know I’m a good-looking guy, like you said, but I’m not your type, who would you go gay for?”

“Ha!”  Scott knew he’d been cornered.  “If…”  He took the opportunity to start yanking down Pietro’s underwear; if they were going to do this, they were going to do this.  Pietro stopped the stroke and assisted him.  When the boxerbriefs were gone, the two got back to business and Scott discovered the girth of Pietro’s cock.  “If I did… I think… there was this one guy.  He did a play, and I think he was on your gymnastics team Freshman or Sophomore year.  He was blonde, and… he looked… I don’t know, there was just something about him.  I haven’t really given this a lot of thought, but when you asked, he just came to mind.”

“You’re talking about Al,” Pietro said with authority.

“Yeah, I’m talking about Al.”

“Pretending you don’t know his name… might be on my team…”  Pietro lifted the comforter and just threw the top down the bed.  He climbed over Scott, straddling his legs.  “His real name is Adalbert, but don’t tell him I told you.”

“Adalbert Schroeder,” Scott considered.  “Yeah, if I was going to go gay, I guess it would be with someone who looked like him.”  He relaxed and helped Pietro find his positioning; he knew what he was after.

“Just looked like him?  Have you ever met him?”  Pietro stroked Scott’s cock from his bush to his expanding head and, on the next downstroke, wrapped his lips around Scott’s cock and took him inside, swirling his tongue around the head in welcome.  He took Scott down halfway and then a little more before coming back up and bobbing five times in quick succession.

Scott gasped and couldn’t answer for a second, or a minute.  Pietro had a talent, he’d give that to him, for sure.  “I’ve met him once or twice, but chit-chat, ‘hey, nice job’ type of thing.”  He ran his fingers into Pietro’s hair, but stopped.  It was a normal reaction to a blow job, but still felt too personal to do it to Pietro.  Fuck it, he thought, and did it, anyway.  “I have a feeling we could be friends, like we wanted to talk more, but couldn’t with the time, or something.  I don’t know.  I’m on Soccer and Swimming, he’s on Gymnastics and — is he in all the plays or just that one?  If he were in the Jazz Band like you and me, then who knows?”

Pietro didn’t answer, just used his tongue and throat the best way he knew how.  Scott knew part of the fun of a blow job was watching the girl, and catching her eyes when she wanted to know your reaction to something she was doing, but that couldn’t happen here in the dark.  But to that aspect, everything Pete was doing was a mystery, then.  Scott relaxed and just centered his mind to the wet sensations of Pete’s skills on his cock.

Pietro had pulled off him to lick the sides, the popsicle move, then took ahold of his shaft about halfway, licked around his head, and then sucked down to his hand.  Each time he bobbed to the top and back down, his mouth pushed his hand lower, taking more of Scott into his throat, until his hand dropped to cradle his balls.  Pietro pulled off, and moved down to suck at Scott’s balls, and did a quick move to poke his tongue at his anus.  Scott immediately flinched, his knees jerking, but a smile grew on his face just as quickly.

“Fuck me…” Scott groaned.

Pietro had to answer that.  “Are you serious?  You want that?”

Scott had to bring his mind to the present.  He’d been getting nearer his explosion point when suddenly all ecstasy below the waist came to a grinding halt.  “What?”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“No, I…  What?  No.  I…  You stopped!”

Pietro went back to sucking Scott’s cock.  He could tease him further, but he wasn’t that mean.  His tongue found Scott’s pleasure point — the skin just below his crown down to his scar, and he worked that.

“Ffff… damn… Pete… Petey… I’m going to cum in your mouth,” Scott rasped.

“Don’t worry,” somehow was understandable.

“No, I mean I am going to cum in your mouth,” Scott demanded, holding Pietro’s head.

“Yes.  You are.”

Scott’s muscles tensed, he doubled about, and made faces no one could see.  “Gah…!  Oh, fff…”  He shot off into Pietro’s throat six times, each blast allowing him to relax his hold over himself until he was flat under Pietro, again.

Pietro pulled himself off of Scott’s cock, but gently held it, rocked it, letting it know everything was all right, that it could relax and unwind.  He swallowed a couple extra times, clearing the remainder from inside his cheeks.  “You okay?” he asked Scott.

“Totally okay…”

“Don’t fall asleep, now.”

“I know, I know.  I’m not gonna be a bad friend.”  Scott knew what he would have to do.

“You taste pretty good.  Only a little salt in there.  Still on your competition diet?”  Pietro climbed up Scott’s body and kissed him.

Scott let himself be kissed, but barely kissed back.  “Bastard.”  There was a little cum given back, of course.  “Yeah, though I had some beer and chips, tonight, I don’t think they had time to invade my system.  So you get the good stuff.”

“I got some good stuff for you…”

“I’ll bet you do.”  Scott shook his head and gently shoved Pietro off of him.  This was easier in the dark, he knew.  He’d have to do it again in the daylight tomorrow, but here, now, in the dark, it wasn’t necessarily real.  And he didn’t have to see Pietro’s eyes.  It was his eyes that Scott didn’t like — just something about the guy’s dark eyelids, always half-closed.  Girls probably thought it was sexy, but he didn’t.  He liked Petey, he was his friend, but even if he messed around with him like this, there was never going to be a chance he’d fall in love.

“How you want me?”

“Just lay down.  Let me get a feel for you.”  He put his hands on Pietro’s shoulders and slowly ran them down his pecs and abs. He’d been in contact with his teammates’ bodies on the soccer field and in the pool without shame, but this was different.  This was something he never thought he’d do, didn’t know he’d even wanted to do, but here in the dark, he could give in to curiosity, enjoy the tactile feeling of another guy’s body.  “Your knee going to be back in shape ever?”

“Not for Wrestling.  That’s done.  No Senior year for me.  I’m still going to try with Gymnastics.  With coach’s help, we’ll find something I can do without hurting it.”

“So, no Soccer with me?”

“I’m not going to run on it.  Or get checked, or tackled…  Whatever you call it.”

Scott would laugh, but knew it was sensible.  “Jazz Band doesn’t require any of that.  Except blowing.”

Pietro did laugh.  “And I can do a good job with that.  And on my trumpet, too.  Question is… is saxophone the only thing you can blow?”

“Well, that’s what we’re going to find out…”  Scott moved down to take ahold of Pietro’s cock.  “You’re completely shaved?”

“That’s how I like it.  And it makes my dick look bigger.”

“No, it doesn’t.  It just makes you look gayer.”

“Well, for me, that’s not a bad thing.”  Pietro pretended to cough.  “Got one of your hairs caught in my throat.  I think you’ve got me on length, even with your hair.  But I’m thicker than you.”

“Yeah, you are…” Scott admitted while getting his mind ready to take Pietro’s cock.

“You measure yourself?”

“I’m seven, seven-and-a-quarter, maybe.  Cindy measured me a while ago — she’s like ‘Eight inches!’ but I let her keep thinking that.”  Scott found that Pete’s cock head was fatter and flatter than his.  A battering ram.  “No way you’re fucking me with this thing.”

Pietro understood.  “Penetration is a hard thing to negotiate.  You have to be willing to give up control, and power.  Until you find the pleasure.”

“Easier with someone you trust, then.”  In that instant, Scott got a whole new appreciation for what a girl went through.

“Or find incredibly exciting!”  Pietro pumped his hips.  “Now, hey, no more delays, get busy.”

Scott nodded in the dark.  “Just remember the old saying — there’s no such thing as a bad blow job.”

“There better not be, or I’m gonna get to face-fuck Scott Walker.”

Scott gave himself one last instant of hesitation — he’d never done this before, but how hard could it be? — then went down on Pietro.  His mouth immediately thought Pietro’s cock head was huge.  He could barely fit the whole thing in his mouth, how did he expect to take any of Pietro’s shaft?  He tried to suck it thinner by adding pressure, and tried to see how much he could get down, or at least inside.

“Take it easy,” Pietro advised.  “Use your tongue, more.  Think about what you like to feel, then try to recreate that.  You’ll get it.”

Scott took the advice and put his tongue to work, then started a slow bob, started that in-and-out.  He had to open his mouth wider than he thought he would have to, but he was okay, now.  He didn’t try to suck so hard.  There was really no taste to worry about, it was as he expected, and Pete was clean.  He still smelled like Pete, but that was Pete…!

Scott pulled off and licked the shaft, going to the spots that he liked, trying to feel Pete’s reaction whether he liked it or not.  Keep it wet.  Swirl.  Try again how much he could take inside before the gag reflex.  He’d wanted to try and do it right, whatever that is, not just bobbing for fifteen minutes.  But as he just relaxed, he got better.  There was a satisfaction, he found, to the sucking.  It was kind of fun.  He thought he understood how girls could hate doing this, yet at the same time wanting to be great at it.

“Use your — there you go,” Pietro was going to point out not to forget to use his hands when Scott recalled that very thing, jerking while he sucked and cradling Pete’s balls with the other.  Scott almost snickered to find Pete’s balls were a little fuzzy — Not too easy to shave those, is it?

Pietro let him sail for a bit longer, but soon shifted, pulled out, and got to his knees.  “I’m going to help you out.  I’m almost ready to cum but not quite there.  Here, sit up.”  Scott did so.  “Flatten your tongue, take me in, don’t block me.”

Pietro began to quickly fuck Scott’s mouth; Scott had to take it and allow it.  Pietro pulled out and stroked himself, then pushed back inside and shot his load, holding Scott’s head captive.  Scott figured what was going on, but still wasn’t quite ready for the onslaught.  The cum pooled in his mouth, but he did his best to swallow as it came.  Anyone’s entire spooge was really only a tablespoon or two, but inside the mouth, it felt like a half pint.  He did his best, but still wound up coughing a little out.  The most notable thing about it all, Scott determined, was the heat of fresh cum, straight from the body to the tongue, not instantly cooling as it hit your abs or chest.

“Sorry, never had that much, before,” Scott confessed.

“Middle school?” Pietro asked while recovering.

“No, didn’t do it back then,” Scott said.  “Girls.  They kiss you afterward, think they’re cute giving you a taste of your own cum, like I’d never tasted it, before.”

“See the problems with girls?” Pietro kidded.

“I… only want one girl’s problems.”

“You guys are really close.  It should have happened before now.”

“That’s my fault.”

“Yeah, well, let’s fix that.”  Pietro pushed Scott back down onto the bed, and fished below to drag the comforter back up.  “I was going to ask if you wanted to try fucking me, but you should actually get the sleep you pretended to need.”

Scott agreed and they found their space.  Pietro pulled Scott closer to him.  “Cuddling isn’t gay.  It’s human.”

Scott allowed his friend to rest his head on his chest.  He put his arm around him, they locked a leg, and fell asleep.

End of part one

Copyright 2025 – Tommy Linarcos
All rights reserved

Fiona and the International Scheme -Part 1 Read More »

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

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 3 Read More »

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

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
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