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From: thedisciplen@yahoo.com (DiscipleN)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 22 Jan 2002 08:43:35 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Natural Mom's Organic Son (4/6) [petting, mom, son, cuck]
Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2002 06:10:05 -0500
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The following is a work of FICTION.

Natural Mom's Organic Son
by DiscipleN

Copyright (c) 2002, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved.
This work may not be used for any commercial purposes without prior,
documented consent from the owner.


Chapter 4

An objective observer would have noted some success after Clifford's
time-out. He never again rudely grabbed my body. Sure, he'd run up to
me for a hug, but that was good behavior. I said my son was a fast
learner.
My boy entered the kitchen one day as I put our week's meager supplies
into the cupboards. He waited patiently for me to finish, but when I
noticed him and gave him an curious glance, he walked over and looked
up at me.
"Mommy, may I please suck on your tits?"
Now I had never said the word tit or tits in front of my son, and I'm
pretty sure Melvin hadn't either. We only used the polite vernacular.
Of course, if the boy was listening to Melvin's and my lovemaking, his
sexual vocabulary would have quadrupled overnight.
"What ever do you mean?" I attempted to draw out the origin of his
word.
"Those." He pointed at my tits.
"These are your mommy's breasts dear, and you know you're not supposed
to suck on them. Your daddy told you, you're not a baby anymore."
"But daddy's not here. Can I be your baby, just once more?"
I don't think I realized until that moment how my endless efforts to
become pregnant had taken their toll on me. I wanted a baby. I wanted
it more than anything. How else had I acquired a perverted fascination
with my son's snow white cum?
"Oh, my dear son!" My heart melted and I lifted Clifford in my arms.
Hugging him, I walked into the living room and carefully squatted down
on the couch. I swiftly adjusted my son's position so that I was
cradling his body and had his head in the crook of my arm.
He looked up at me. 
I looked down at him. My face was filled with joy.
He looked at my covered tit that hung just out of tongue reach.
He looked back at me, hoping.
"You have the most beautiful breasts in the whole world, mommy."
"Son, please just let me hold you. You won't be my baby forever."
"On my birthday, you let me feed from them. They tasted so good, I
want to suck them again." He reached for the closer tit, but he didn't
touch it. His hand made a slow circle over the nipple poking out of my
dress.
I was in trouble. My body began to respond. I was in love with my son,
as a good mother should be, but I was also a highly sexual woman who
hadn't been getting her minimal requirements for weeks. Clifford was
seducing me with his respectful demeanor, and then he made that
endearing motion with his hand.
I swooned. I took his child's hand and pulled it into my tit. God help
me - I had to let him touch it.
He was so gentle. His palm worked silently with its small fingers to
grab the nipple and push it into the softer flesh. He rolled the
nipple in his fingers and then pressed it with his palm, softly
mushing the whole tit flat against my chest. His hand returned to it's
earlier, circular motion, but this time he was rubbing my breast round
and round.
I almost bit my lip from the powerful sensations that coursed through
my body at his deliberate touch. My husband was the dearest, gentlest
man on the earth, but he could have learned a whole new level of care
and attention from his twelve year old son. Clifford acted as if my
breast was the only thing in the universe that mattered. From my own
perspective, other parts of my body began clamoring for similar
attention.
I wasn't in the right position to grind my pelvis, however much my
cunt begged to be prodded. I had to derive as much pleasure from my
son's tit play as I could. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on his
actions but that meant deliberately dropping my guard.
Clifford became bolder. He lifted his head and opened his mouth right
next to his groping hand. With a pinch on my nipple he switched from
hand to mouth, and began sucking on my tit, right through the thick
cotton of my house dress. At first I didn't notice. I was in blissful
separation. Then, once his spit soaked into the dress, I opened my
eyes, and suddenly my fears were in full conflict with my desire.
It was not too late. I hoisted myself to a straight, sitting position.
That jarred my son off of the tit he was nibbling. If my breasts had
been bared, his mouth would have stuck like a suction cup.
He looked up at me with pleading eyes.
I returned only an empty expression.
Then I pulled my arms out of my dress and uncovered my heaving tits.
His eyes grew round, and he immediately descended. His mouth devoured
the original, bespittled nipple, and his hand grasp the dry one. His
mother wriggled her free hand under the boy and pressed the folds of
my skirt into her thighs. I was lost.
On a sunny, spring day in a room darkened by thick curtains, a loving
mother allowed her devoted son to pleasure her by sucking and rubbing
her tits while she secretly masturbated.
I was driven to a single, excruciating orgasm that left me weak and
delirious. Suddenly, I imagined my husband kneeling on the floor,
sucking me, but he was sucking my cunt. Just before I expired, I heard
Clifford say.
"Will you be my whore?"
The spinning room engulfed me and I blacked out.

It was dark when I awoke. I lay stretched on the couch, lengthwise. My
exposed breasts were dry, but I could tell that Clifford had sucked on
both of them by the lingering smell of his spit. Another fluid he left
hadn't fully dried. A great puddle of his cum lay in the dip of my
belly. This time I was not shy. I fingered the slimy mess and tasted
of it. His flavor was golden and pronounced. It spoke of power and
delight. I spent several mindless minutes spreading it's stickiness
over my torso, rubbing it into my breasts and nipples as if it were
luxurious skin cream.
I almost came again, but my reverie eventually expanded beyond my own
physical realm, and I spied Clifford lying on the plush carpet. His
pants were still pulled down around his knees and his soft prick had
fallen to one side. A musical hum surrounded him as he breathed in his
sleep.
Two spotlights swept across the living room curtains, and the roar of
an engine was silenced. Melvin had returned.
I picked up my child, secured him in his bed, and shut his door.
Melvin found me in the shower.
"Hey, shouldn't the man who won the big contract today have first dibs
on this part of the house?"
"Melvin? You want to shower? I'm almost done. Just a second." I shut
off the water and stepped naked into my man's arms. We embraced and he
kissed my ear. Then he whispered, "I bought a whole box of condoms for
tonight's celebration."
My throat involuntarily gulped. I'm not sure why I then said what I
did, but I meant it. "Let me think about that. I'm not sure I'm
feeling all that well." He gave me a slight look of disappointment.
"Whew, my stressed out husband does need a shower! Here, get those
pores all freshened up, while I make the man of this house a big
supper." At that he smiled.
This night happened to be my most fertile time of the month, and I
threw the chance of conceiving with my husband all away, literally.
Feigning slight physical discomfort, I wrapped a bright, new condom
over my husband's eager penis, and I masturbated him until he spewed
his watery cum into that receptacle. I then transported his dying seed
to the toilet and flushed it into the municipal waste treatment
system.
In the morning, he tried again, surprising me by squeezing his condom
covered dick into my sleeping crotch. I awoke immediately and
chastised him.
"Melvin, I know in the past, I liked being awakened by my husband's
passionate embrace, but today I feel like you should have asked me
first."
"Oh." He tilted his head in confusion.
I hugged him and kissed him, saying that I understood he meant well,
but sometimes a woman does change her mind. To compensate, I fixed him
a sumptuous breakfast and gave him the royal treatment with hugs and
kisses before sending him back into the vicious world of making a
living.
Clifford appeared sometime in the middle of my wifely duties. He
followed me around at a distance, always watching from a doorway,
observing my body language, deciphering the tone of my voice, figuring
out what I was really doing.
I was getting Melvin out of the house as efficiently as possible.
As soon as Melvin's car zoomed off into silence, Clifford approached
me with a perfectly timed hug. I lifted him up and carried him back to
the couch. He helped me pull down the top of my dress and was soon
nursing away on my tits and kneaded them with his hands while I
pressed fingers into my cunt. This time I reached up under my dress to
fuck myself, and I had deliberately failed to wear my panties.
Soon, mother and son were swooning in their passionate embraces and
succumbing to cumming, at least I did, first. This time I did not
faint, but I closed my eyes until their were slits and rested
perfectly still. And in that heady aftermath, I watched my son climb
off me and unzip his pants. He pulled them down and released his
beautifully sized, blood filled cock into the living room air.
Clifford surprised me then. I was expecting him to anoint my body with
his sanctified liquid, but I expected him to use his own hand. He used
mine. He gently lifted up my arm and wrapped my fingers around his
cock. Then he moved my hand up and down his flesh, back and forth. Was
this a repeat of when he masturbated over me the day before?
My aroused son spewed his cum right away, but I almost blew my cover
of pretend sleep when his jets of sperm shot out in a high arc and
landed directly on my naked navel. I swear shivery aftershocks of
orgasm swept through me with each spurt. It seemed to me that he spent
more time cumming than he had trying to make himself cum. I was eager
to touch and taste it. The dribbled, last drops of cum had run over my
hand as he finished his own throes of ecstasy. Muted cries rumbled
from his throat. I could hardly wait to stuff it in my mouth.
But my son was a perfectionist. He wanted to leave only the pool of
his love as his offering and thanks. Clifford licked his cock juice
from my hand until it was perfectly clean. Then he replaced my arm
back on the sofa. I wanted so much to grab him and hug him, but I was
afraid of disturbing his work of art glistening on my belly in white.
Still, my son was not finished with his seduction. He could not have
possibly known that I had watched it all, but he sat down on the
carpet and waited, his eyes sparkling with devotion. My heart flew out
to him.
I first mumbled. Next, I flickered open my eyes. I raised my head and
looked at my belly.
"Oh no, what is this?" I asked aloud, as if to myself in surprise.
"Mommy, are you sure you don't know?" My son answered innocently
enough.
"Did you do this? Oh my goodness, Clifford you're not fully dressed."
Like the last time, he had left his pants down around his knees, but
this time his cock remained fully erect. I couldn't help but stare at
it. Regardless, I had a role to play.
"Haven't I warned you about invading your mom's privacy. This is
terrible! I want you to put your clothes back on and march to your
room. Stay there for the rest of the day. I'm going to tell the school
that you have to miss your classes."
He pulled on his pants and zipped them quickly before following my
orders to the letter. I, on the other hand, remained on the couch
until I heard his door close. With both hands I scooped up every drop
of his beautiful cum and sucked it into my mouth. I wiped and scraped
my belly until the last of it was trickling down my throat. Then I
rested in the glow of yet another orgasm. I replayed the morning's
follies in my head and fucked one sperm washed hand into my wet cunt
and pinched my nipples hard with the other.

There was work to do in the house, but not much. As the day ticked and
tocked, I occasionally poked my head into Clifford's room and gave him
brief lectures about appropriateness.
"Masturbation is a healthy pastime. I hope you never feel guilty about
it."
"Okay, mommy."
On my second visit, I told him,  "Most people have pretty strong
feelings about bodily fluids. You wouldn't ever spit on mommy would
you?"
"I'm sorry."
"We all make mistakes."
Later, I remember saying, "You know, semen is a pretty special
creation of your body. I hope you respect that."
"It makes babies."
"Yes honey, it does." I beamed. "I'm sure yours will make wonderful
babies."
I finally finished my house work and felt that Clifford had been timed
out long enough. I knocked on his door, like I always did.
"Mommy, can you get me a drinking cup?" He asked through the closed
door.
"You want a cup of water?"
"Can I have just the cup?"
"Sure, but if you want, you can get the cup yourself. I know that my
good boy won't repeat his naughtiness. You don't have to stay in your
room anymore."
"Okay."
I heard him shuffling on the carpet. He opened the door and walked
out. His body was fully naked, and his beautifully erect cock bounced
as he moved past me to the kitchen.

I didn't know what to do or say. So, I didn't do anything. I heard a
cupboard open. A few seconds later his bare ass waddled past me in the
opposite direction, cock in front standing like a ship's mast in rough
seas. He held a white plastic, cartoon cup in his hand. He walked back
to his room, but left the door open. Then he sat down on his bed and
commenced to jack off.
It wasn't my place to stand and stare, but I couldn't help myself. The
very innocence of his demeanor tugged at my skirt like the four year
old boy who used to suck on my breasts whenever he wanted. I promised
myself, I'd never deny him again.
Clifford appeared to enjoy pumping away on his prick meat like a chef
enjoyed making a nice salad dressing. He knew I was looking on, but he
didn't seem the least bit embarrassed. I was as red as a beet!
After nearly a minute of steady jacking, he looked at me and smiled. I
smiled back, swallowing my heart as it wrestled it's way up my throat.
I wrung my hands spastically, behind my back to keep myself from
plunging them up my skirt and into the naked cunt that called their
names.
Not quite one more minute later, he raised the cup to his prickhead
that glistened with precum and he shot several loads of bright cum
into the cup. He even used the rim to scrap the last drop off of his
cock. Again he smiled at me.
A moment of silence passed. My embarrassment only grew. But just as I
cleared my throat with an appreciative tone and was about to leave, he
stood up and walked directly towards me.
"Mommy, if you want this, you can have it." He held up the cup.
My eyes lost focus. Moisture there blotted the sweet figure of my son.
My arm reached out unbidden. My hand accepted his gift.
"Th-thank you." My throat whispered hoarsely.
Then he walked back into his room and shut the door. I heard him
fumbling with clothes. My husband would return soon.
I was washing the cup in hot water and plenty of dish soap when Melvin
hugged me from behind and kissed my neck.
We made, fabulous, passionate love that night, but I double checked
his condom before and after. My cunt was his willing whore, but I
refused to even kiss him with my mouth. I couldn't bear the thought of
disturbing the salty tang of my son's delicious cum with any flavor of
Melvin's. I orgasmed several times lost in the fantasy that my husband
was a precocious, twelve year old child of my womb.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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