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From: "Stasya T. Canine" <stasyatk9SPAMUNDESIRED@juno.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Stalking the Stuffer (MF Rom intergen adult-inc redhead) Stasya T. Canine
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This work is released to the public domain

MF Rom intergen adult-inc redhead

My annual 'Christmas Contribution' was inspired by Shon Richard's comment:
"It is a well documented fact that some people can not handle the pure
sexual power of a redhead.  Joan of Arc, Rita Hayworth and Nicole Kidman
have all had troubles because men just freaked out when faced with the
awesome attraction of shiny auburn locks.  Some people would list red hair
as a squick just save their hearts from exploding."

Thanks, Shon.  :)
---

Stalking the Stuffer
by: Stasya T. Canine

"I really don't care if you're my son.  We're adults.  I'm hotter than the
oven and you look like a steel post."  Are all mothers able to sound so
reasonable when talking about the absurd?

"Mom, I haven't thought about screwing you since..."  I blushed. She'd
managed to get my secret out of me.  "I was a teenager."  I finished
lamely.

Rather than scold me, she giggled.  The giggle made her sound younger.  It
also made me nervous.  "Not since you started getting laid by the girls
your own age?"

"No, I gave up the fantasy shortly after you and dad got back together and
the two of you screwed each other several times a night. I knew I'd never
have  a chance of making my fantasy a reality. There was another reason,
too."

Now it was her turn to blush.  "How did you figure out that we were
screwing so often?"

"Mom, you're a screamer.  My friends used to tease me about it. 'Think you
can make her scream like that?'  Some of them even tried to seduce you so
they could win bets.  Sometimes we'd park a few houses away and walk home
so we could sit on the porch and listen to you.  Most of my friends jerked
off in time to your screams at one time or another."

She looked at me rather oddly.  I could see her nipples were getting hard.
 "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Jerk off while I screamed."

I hesitated.  Should I tell her the truth?  Yes.  "No."  I hurried on. 
"By then I'd given up my fantasies that involved you."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

She looked disappointed.  "I dreamed about you back then.  That hard, hot,
flagpole of a cock of yours.  Your hands stroking it.  I was too scared to
do anything about it."

She paused and then asked me, "The other reason?"

"The other reason?"  My lust was increasing my inability to follow my
mother's soft words.  All my teenaged fantasies had returned.  I wasn't
seeing her as she was now.  I was once again seeing my mother through the
eyes of a hellaciously horny teenager.

She inched closer and took my hand in hers.  As she placed it on one of
her breasts she repeated her question.  "The other reason you stopped
fantasizing about me and jerking off."

I shivered as my desire for her returned.  I looked into her eyes and
slowly, gently, began caressing her.  "Angela."  I saw the question in her
eyes.  Angela is my wife.  "By then I had met Angela and all my fantasies
involved her."

My mother gently pulled me against her.  "I'm glad then."

"You are?"  I'll never understand women.  Especially my mother.

She pushed me away slightly and untied the belt that held my robe closed. 
My robe fell open to reveal my stiff penis.  "Look at me." She untied her
robe and shrugged out of it.  I marveled.  I'd never seen a woman who
could simply shrug herself out of her robe like my mother did.  She was
naked.  I could see that her pubic triangle glistened with moisture.

She reached out and tilted my head so our eyes met.  "Any mother would be
proud of a son who confined his fantasies to one woman. Especially if that
woman was the one he eventually married."

I was mesmerized as my mother seemed to glide forward.  She reached down
and took hold of me.  I flinched slightly as her cool hand wrapped itself
around me.  "It's ok,"  she soothed me.  How many times had I heard those
same words, in that same gentle tone, when she was soothing some hurt? 
Too often to count.

She shifted her fingers slightly and I felt air caress me.  Before I could
do anything else she lined me up and glided home.  I felt her moist pubes
meet my dry ones.  She hugged me and pulled me tightly against her body. 
"It's ok,"  she soothed again.  "Angela knows."

I started to pump in reaction to finding myself sheathed.  "No." She
gentled me to a stop and then grabbed my butt and pulled me firmly against
her.  "I'll do the work.  You've done so much for me over the years."

She started internal muscular movements like none I'd ever felt before. 
Squeezing.  Rings that rippled along my shaft.  Sudden spasms that felt
like they were going to flatten my entire length at once.  In what seemed
like seconds I had to grab my mother and hold her as I tried to force
myself deeper.  Incredibly, as I orgasmed, her ripples matched mine and
rapidly milked me dry.  I felt her clamp around me and when I tried to
pull away I discovered I was locked inside.

She surprised me again.  "Besides, Angela has black hair.  Ours is red." 
She laughed throatily.  "You can't leave until I let go."  She fluttered
internally.  It wasn't an orgasm.  I know what a woman's orgasm feels
like.  This was incredible control.  Control that she used to give me
pleasure.

"What does hair color have to do with it?  More importantly, why are you
doing this to me?"

She continued her movements that weren't movements.

At the time I thought her 'answer' - was a 'non-answer'.  "Your father
wasn't a redhead.  He never understood what it's like to be one.  I wanted
you to know too."

She pulled me into a lingering and gentle kiss that renewed me in ways I'd
never felt.  When she pulled back I tried to follow her mouth with mine.

I felt a fingertip on my lips.  "Am I your first redhead?"

Instead of saying anything right away I bent forward to taste her lips
again.  When I pulled back I looked into her luminous eyes.

"Yes."

* * *

My mother moved in with us later that week.  I love Angela.  Gods above, I
love her even more than I did before.  But, I love my mother just as much.

When I asked Angela why she let my mother seduce me, she smiled. Her smile
was a bit sad.  "You weren't my first redhead.  I already knew that deep
down there was a part of you that I could never reach. I love you.  Your
mother was my gift that proves how much I love you."

My mother, naked and nestled on the other side of me, got up and leaned
over me to kiss Angela.  She giggled that girlish giggle as she fondled
me.  "Angela, honey, he doesn't understand - yet.  But, he sure as hell
accepts."  All three of us laughed as we wrapped our arms around each
other.

She was right.
---

December 9, 2000
Stasya T. Canine
http://storiesonline.net/Stasya_T_Canine

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