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Subject: Title story: "The Son Who Could (Part 1)" Author: Anal_king 108884140
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Date: Sat, 09 Jun 2007 09:07:50 +0000
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The Son Who Could By Anal_king
I sat up in my bed rubbing the cobwebs from my eyes. The clock on the night
table read 12:24 p.m. I took the day off on account of a stomach virus I caught
at the office the other day. After a quick shower to wake me up, I went
downstairs to make myself a light breakfast. My wife, Dorthea, had already left
for work a few hours ago, so I had the whole house all to myself. As I sat there
chewing my toast thinking about what I would do on my day off, the doorbell
rang. I shuffled over to the front door making out the shoulder of the mail
carrier through the glass paneling. He had a package that needed my signature. I
thanked him and glanced at the label with my name typed on it with no return
address. I laid the package on the small table by the door where we keep our
keys and the mail and went back to finish my breakfast.
Since I didn't go to work today, I thought it only fair to clean up the house a
bit, so my wife wouldn't come home to a pigsty. I began in the kitchen working
my way up the bedrooms upstairs. We had three in total: one for me and my wife,
the second for guests and relatives, and finally the third, which used to be our
son's room but now converted into a home office, where we kept our computer,
printer, and fax machine.
Dusting around in the office suddenly triggered a flood of memories about Paul,
our son. We#8212that is, Paul and I, had an estranged relationship ever since I
could remember. He always saw me as the competition where it concerned his
mother's affections. Now, don't get me wrong here, I don't want you to think
that I'm suggesting Paul is a mama's boy. He's not. But, let's just say there is
something in that boy which isn't quite right. I'll tell you what I mean:
It all began when Paul was 5 years old at the time. Dorthea and I were about
getting settled under the covers one night when she began telling me about what
Paul had requested from her earlier that day. Turning over on my side, I propped
my head onto my left hand and waited for her to continue which was customary for
me to do when my wife wanted my undivided attention.
Dorthea went on to tell me that she had settled down to watch her favorite soap
in the afternoon, I think it was called Blazing Passions or something funny like
that, when Paul stormed in and blurted out how he wanted some milk. Okay, I
thought, there's nothing strange about a boy wanting some milk. Dorthea looked
deeply into my eyes, which was her way of telling me that she was going to tell
me something important. I gave her a nod to continue.
She went on to tell me about how our son walked right up in front of her and
pointed his finger at her luscious rack and said he wanted some of mommy's milk.
I widened my eyes for her benefit but in reality, for some reason, this didn't
shock me as it should have. For one thing, I knew a few guys in the neighborhood
who would've given their right arm to nurse on my wife's busty tits. She sported
a bouncing pair of 42DD breasts with one and a quarter inch nipples when erect.
Add to that, a light sprinkling of freckles over her chest that really got my
dick hard. The other thing was, Paul was only 5 at the time and probably didn't
know what he was doing.
I told Dorthea I would have a talk with him over that incident. She thanked me
and we snuggled falling asleep in each other's arms. Days passed and the talk I
was supposed to have with Paul totally slipped my mind with all the work I was
getting at the job. Then, the weekend came and I went out for a jog on a sunny
Saturday morning. I cut the run short due to a sprained hamstring. When I
reached the front door and I heard a loud yelp from inside.
I pushed the door open and limped into the hallway. I heard my wife
disciplining Paul for something or other as I made my way to the entrance of
the living room. I peeked around the corner of the archway to see Paul being
held at arms length by my wife as he struggled in vain to move toward her. He
was thrusting his head forward so he could latch on to her right nipple which
stood out from her blue satin robe. Her alabaster tit jiggled as she labored to
keep Paul away from her breasts.
In all the commotion, they didn't hear me come in. When it appeared to Paul that
she wasn't going to allow him suckle her breast, he threw a tantrum the likes of
never seen before. He stomped his right foot down on the plush living room
carpet, whining how he wanted her milk. Dorthea, however, held her ground
explaining to him that she no longer had anymore milk. "Sweetie, mommy can't
give you any of her milk. It's all gone. You drank it all up when you were just
a baby. I can't make anymore milk unless I have another baby. Do you
understand?" He calmed down some but he didn't buy it and kept on and on trying
to break free of her hold.
Paul began to realize, at that moment, he wasn't going to convince her
otherwise. He ceased his struggles and pouted giving her his sad eyes. He often
used this tactic when ...
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