Miss Johansson

          Chapter 7.

          Awakenings, from one day to the next, differ, often dramatically.

          On Saturday morning I suffered though pure miseries, yet one day later I encountered pure voluptuousness. My Sunday consciousness began with a boner so hard it hurt. My mind, filled with Miss Johansson and her many graciously presented pleasures, cruised marvelously.

          Never had I experienced such pleasures before yet the promise of so much more to come caused my mind to whirl in madness. Amid my mindfulness of Miss Johansson craving her roughest prodding, I found myself lying there on my back with my bed sheet propped up by my stiffest, constantly pulsing cock. The scene I made could be described as near grotesque for such were the pressures felt. I lay there with my hips curled upward in a tightness brought on by instinct as I yearned for every sensation of throb after throb.

          With my memories of Miss Johansson eagerly, willingly, even playfully sucking up to please me, I found from my thoughts alone that a massive spewing happens, feeling even more fantastic than the norm. I couldn’t believe it! And within thirty seconds of added memories flowing through my mind, I found my wet tent lifted high again. It seemed absolutely unbelievable!

          I assumed I might have to explain myself to my mother once she collected her laundry next. Then again, Mom might learn, know, and understand without a word passing between us. That’s Mom. She can sit with me at the kitchen table and study me forever, knowing how my body reacts to her presence. The thought occurred to me that she might believe I had her in mind as my spontaneous episodes occurred. So, I stopped worrying about what my mother might learn. Miss Johansson held my higher priority, one so high as to hint of yet another spontaneous emission verging. Still, I couldn’t believe it! Such madness had never happened like this to me before!

          Duplicity rang in my ears; the word bugged me, whatever it meant. Another mad rush, a blur of memories as I remembered Miss Johansson nurturing me, feeding me, loving me into a greater understanding of my needs, needs I hardly even know but surely must as soon as possible. A cover plan or nothing can happen with Betty or anyone else. What had been Miss Johansson’s cover plan? Could ours be like hers? What the hell is a cover anyway? A cover...

          As if I’d been slapped hard across my cheek, my mind discovered Bitsy Austin and Dawn Hudson intensely intertwined, convulsing, grunting, sighing, and silently crying in strains brought on by love over time. Then their apologetic turn toward me, as if they owed me something far beyond any expectation I may have had. Bitsy pushing her pussy at my face teasingly, temptingly, and ever anxiously as she waited for the inevitable touch of my tongue. My memory of the curl of her hips in tight strain as I licked upward through her nether lips caused my untouched prod to swiftly swell and spew from supreme turgidity in my continuing orgiastic spell. I knew of an uncontrollable madness. It reemerged almost instantly hard, proud, intensely alert, throbbing constantly still.

          Reason compelled my swiftest reemergence. The lusciousness of Bitsy’s body, unfathomable, exacted that price. Peaches and cream, a soft plumpness all about her suggesting her easy vulnerability pulled my thoughts back to her time and again. I grabbed my second pillow and let it serve as my substitute for Bitsy as I pulled every aspect of it closer to my body. I didn’t want to ever get enough of her. I pulled and tugged that pillow like mad until yet another uncontrollable disgorging left me knowingly spent. That one scared me. I jumped out of bed and hit the shower to see if I couldn’t find my right mind again. Jeesh!

          That’s not all. As I turned on my bathroom light and pulled the glass shower door closed, I turned on the warm water to let it flow over my body. Immediately, I found my mind in a defensive mode. My bed covers were wet beyond any prior experience of mine. How could I explain my behavior? It couldn’t be explained; at least, it wouldn’t be believed. Surely, I’d be assumed to have become crazed. The water wasn’t washing away that sort of dirtiness.

          Then Dawn hit me hard. Dawn, my Renee Russo look-a-like who so graciously led me through the paces she believed I could handle for her last night, took my mind by storm, by flood, by overwhelming strength of thought. Leaning my forehead against the shower stall wall, I gave up for a moment and let my thoughts of her roam. I’d fucked her good, I thought. She had seemed so pleased with me in every way. She declared me, without a word directly said, to be sufficient for her purposes. She had read the body language of her long time lover and had decided I deserved more, that she would willingly become my partner in a try to please our commonly hoped for phantasm.

          Fucking Dawn had been such a pleasure... I grabbed my cock there in my shower while my forehead remained pasted against that wall, while the water continued to cascade down over me, and I began those efforts to feel that fuck all over again. Slowly, steadily, I pumped the feeling into that renewed fuck as I wailed softly over the thrills of my fantasy. I pumped forever, it seemed, it felt so necessary, so urgently needed, and it grew steadily more hard until it swelled up in peak fashion as it spewed and spewed and spewed...

          Stumbling about in recovery, I let my body turn, to put the back of my shoulder to the wall, to hold myself there until my strength returned. I knew of a madness for sure then. And I learned Mom had been standing there just outside the shower door watching me all along.

          I didn’t have the strength to react in any normal manner. I’d exposed myself flagrantly to my mother. Maybe I deserved a greater privacy but not from my Mom. I had long given her every right to be as she pleased. I knew, somehow, she’d understand, maybe explain my madness if I could tell her enough. But Mom wouldn’t want to know that much about me. She’d rather deal with the edges of her awareness of my plight. She’d want me to find comfort in her presence whatever the cost. But...

          Mom had a grin about her then, an aroused grin. A look of determination, too. A look that astounded me, of audacious courage, one that might thwart all conventions of necessity. Mom had a move on.

          With a swift tug upward of her pajama shirt, Mom stood naked before me. My Mom, an older Bitsy Austin, perhaps, did not hesitate at all. She turned to close the bathroom door and then she pushed the shower door open to step inside with me. In an instant, she had me in her arms as she pushed her face into the dark of my neck and pressed her belly tight against mine. She wouldn’t turn me loose, clearly. I surrendered. My body reacted aggressively on its own as my cock began one more climb that morning. I understood a new kind of madness then as her luscious bosom captured my mind.

          I had no where to turn, no way to not do as my Mom might demand of me. I saw Bitsy so highly aroused while on her back, on the bed, pushing her pussy upward toward my tongue, taunting me, urging me to lick her vibrant clit. That’s the morning I first plastered my mother’s backside to my shower’s wall seemingly forever as I kept on fucking her so hard. That’s the morning I learned my mother would be multi orgasmic but I didn’t know what that meant then. That’s the morning I began to consider my mother in a new light. She revealed needs I’d never tried to understand, needs to settle the hungries of my soul. Surely, it’s a madness.

          Funny thing, not much was said about all that. Mom, once she recovered well enough, reacted positively, satisfied with herself, at least, as she hustled to get herself clean there in my shower with me. She stepped outside the shower door to dry herself quickly, don her pajama shirt again, and then she walked into my bedroom to commence changing my bed sheets for me.

          Within minutes, the evidence of my maddest morning ever had disappeared forever. Mom disappeared, too, a sly look back at me for all my effort. I stood there wondering if it had happened at all until I discovered my scrotum hanging somewhere down around my knees, possibly. I thought of costs.

          Madness costs, surely. I sensed the need to guess, to stumble over the costs incurred. They weren’t my costs, I learned. Pauline had wished for her freedom there at the party the night before, her freedom until about Eleven-Thirty. I had to search for her. Found her in a bedroom with seven guys taking turns with her drunken, unconscious body. They had her on her knees, her head and breasts dragging erratically on the mattress beneath her as they fucked her incessantly doggie style. No choice but to cold-cock two guys to get her free.

          Carrying Pauline to a bathroom to get her cleaned up took me forever. I didn’t really know what to do. Dawn would be grading Pauline on her evening’s performance so I didn’t want to ask for help. Looking around, I discovered probable tools, implements possibly useful, so I locked the bathroom door and went to work cleaning things in and out. It’s something I can never tell Pauline, she wouldn’t believe me anyway. I found her ballet necked tee, her relaxed fit jeans, and her loafers. That’s all I found.

          Carrying Pauline back into the bedroom to place her on the bed so I might get her dressed, I managed her top and bottom well enough without a bother but as I pushed her loafers onto her feet, I found Dawn looking over my shoulder. Dawn took charge, brought Pauline around eventually before she helped me get Pauline into my car. At the end of our night together, Pauline gladly recounted her twelve fucks. I didn’t mention her costs or whose count counts.

          Speaking of costs, I heard Dad begin stirring about the house. My mind flew back to the concepts of cover that quickly but the thought of a good breakfast occurred to me as well. I wondered if the two trains of thought could be merged. Now there’s an organizational thought.

          ~

          Still in her pajama shirt, Mom served breakfast in a much bigger volume than usual that morning. We had juice, waffles, eggs, potatoes, toast, milk, and coffee when ordinarily we would have had one or two of those items. Happier that morning, Mom kept the conversation going throughout the meal, a matter that flustered Dad since he usually delved deep into the Sunday paper during his breakfast. Soon, he found an excuse to leave the table to go into his study where he could isolate himself for a time from further distractions. When I saw fit to do much the same, Mom interrupted me.

          “Why don’t you stay and help me clean up this morning, Brad?”

          Clear to me, Mom wasn’t concerned about cleaning anything more that morning. She wanted me to remain with her, with her alone, for a time longer. Her penchant became more clear as she kept brushing herself against me in various ways. She wanted a closeness, a bunch of touches, a togetherness of merit. When she took a position at her kitchen sink to do some dishes, I took my position behind her, to put my arms about her, and to tug her tight to my belly. I couldn’t have made her feel better, possibly. When she moved to keep my arms there, I sensed she wanted more. So, I hugged her more tightly and let my hands begin to roam about her body. I grabbed her breasts, those luscious melons, and tweaked her nipples hard. I felt them emerge and point sharply while her breathing became more staggered. I kissed her ear as I whispered, “Thanks, Mom.”

          Cleaning up after breakfast took Mom and I about an hour. Actually, we spent most of that time sitting at the table and sipping more coffee as we discussed topics at will. Eventually, Mom got around to her visions of Toby straining with his weighted ribbon. Amid much mirth, she revealed her far greater curiosity in Toby and that matter surprised me. Then she explained to me for the first time how she had been in love with a college football player who may have looked much like Toby. I’d never known of her discussing her lovers prior to my father.

          “Your guy looked like Toby?”

          “My guy, his name was Carl, was as wide as Toby. He was huge, bulky, strong, hard, and a tackle like Toby. All my girlfriends kept asking me how I might cope with him. I showed them how I coped by spreading my limbs as if I might be helplessly vulnerable. That usually explained how I coped well enough.”

          “So you two were active?”

          “You mean sexually, of course. Sure. Most of us were then. Carl was more active than me. That’s why we broke up. He managed to get another girl pregnant before he could get me that way. They dropped out of school in their senior year without graduating. I never could understand why they might rush to leave so quickly. I’ve never seen either of them again. But Toby reminds me of Carl, more of the way Carl and I played back then. When I saw Toby straining so hard with his weights, I saw Carl. It took me awhile to get over that sight!”

          “So, seeing Toby that way turned out to be a good experience, didn’t it?”

          “I think so, yes. I’ve been remembering that little episode. Yes, it’s good.”

          “Toby would love to hear you say so. Maybe you could tell him. He’s afraid you will think less of him now. He wanted to apologize to you but I thought that might be too much. I told him you might grin at him next you see him and that he should grin back. I didn’t know what else to tell him.”

          “You think Toby would be willing to talk to me about such a thing?”

          “Well, yeah. He would be embarrassed at first but Toby has a way of pushing through his calamities. He has enough calamities to have a record of pushing through them, anyway. A talk with you might be a sobering experience for him. He seems to have a lamp shade about his head most times. Maybe you could raise his shade a bit for him, let him have a peek at life as it is.”

          “Has Toby become active yet?”

          “I asked him about that. He said, ‘Well, no, Not exactly.’ So, I assume he hasn’t.”

          “I can’t ask the same about you now, Brad. I know you’ve become active. Where did you learn to...”

          “Remember Sally?”

          “That long ago?”

          “Her leaving almost killed me, Mom.”

          “I never suspected...”

          “Sally spread the word about me, though. That put me on every other girl’s back burner. Pauline, the girl I dated last night, she may be the first sure thing I’ve run into since Sally. We’ll see about Pauline soon, I suppose.”

          “Pauline’s nice?”

          “A standard setter. Elegant, composed... Well, she’s usually composed. A leader of her group at school. Aggressive. Well, she’s sort of like you only she doesn’t have a body as luscious as yours.”

          “Humph! You think I’m luscious?”

          “Peaches and cream luscious, Mom. Most of the guys’ moms are getting wide down there. You’ve got a cage.”

          “A cage?”

          “Well, bears in bags.”

          “You’re crazy, Brad!”

          “Yes ma’am. Mom crazy, as of today.”

          Right before Noon, our telephone rang again. I picked it up there in the kitchen.

          “Suhr residence.

          “Hi, Betty. How’s it going?

          “That bad?

          “You want my help, is that it?

          “When?

          “Right away. Hmm."

          I looked at Mom. She nodded her head positively. She likes Betty, thinks Betty is a real find for me.

          “OK, we have a date.

          “Oh, it’s not a date. Just a work session.

          “I won’t tell a soul how you and I are working so well together, Betty.

          “Well, I am smart but I’d rather you refer to another part of my anatomy.

          “Can I bring something with me? Cake, ice cream, colas?

          “Oh, that? You’re interested in that?

          “Well, yeah. I think I can do that if you’ll help. It’s kinda tough, you see.

          “Sure, see you momentarily.”

          I turned to Mom and said, “Why is Betty afraid to have a date with me? She wants to call our get together a working session. Am I missing something here?”

          Mom grinned but she made a suggestion. “Brad, girls will deny anything if they believe the denial can lead to something good. Betty wants what a date can bring but she’s afraid to ask for it directly. Just go give her what she wants and make her happy.”

          Well, Betty’s wants amounted to me bringing my weighted ribbon but I couldn’t tell Mom that, could I? I just shook my head in agreement with Mom. Then I noticed her increasing blush as something came to the tip of her tongue. She may have been a bit embarrassed to ask but she did. “Would you have Toby to come see me sometime soon?”

          “Sure will, Mom. I’ll let you know as soon as I find him.”

          Mom held a bit of tension right then. Toby had given her a first class ticket down memory lane.

          ~

          I found Dad in his bedroom searching for his golf shoes. I wanted to ask for the use of his old car again. He seemed upset because he couldn’t find his shoes. I’d seen them on the back porch where he’d cleaned them after he’d last used them.

          “Make a trade with you, Dad.”

          “What’s the deal?”

          “I’ll tell you where your shoes are if I can use your car again this afternoon.”

          “If it’s OK with your Mom, it’s OK with me. I’m using the new car. Got a tee time near One this afternoon. Now, where the hell are my shoes?”

          “Back porch. Want me to get them for you?”

          “Oh. That’s where I left them. No, I’ll pick them up on my way out. Thanks. Be careful.”

          “You, too. Listen up for every fore.”

          “Funny, Brad.”

          ~

          Back in my bedroom, I grabbed the telephone and called Toby.

          “Yeah!”

          “Tobe?”

          “Yeah!”

          “What’s up with you right now?”

          “Lunch. You?”

          “I need a favor from you, Tobe.”

          “Name it, you got it.”

          “I want you to come over to our place dressed well to meet my Mom.”

          ”She won’t be mad, kick me out now?”

          “She wants to share an early experience of hers with you so you won’t be feeling bad. She’s not embarrassed and she doesn’t want you to be, either.”

          “When?”

          “Say around One, One-fifteen?”

          “OK. You be there, too?”

          “No, I might be embarrassed listening to my mother talk to a tackle about an earlier experience of hers that will make you feel better. How’s that?”

          “How long will it take, Brad?”

          “No rush about it. Relax, talk some, enjoy yourself. It’s a time for you to be yourself, Tobe. Buck up. You can handle this without a sweat. You can bring your ribbon as an ice breaker if you’d like.”

          “You kidding, Brad?”

          “Yeah, I’m kidding, but you ought to be carrying it with you at all times, anyway. You’ll piss Betty off if you don’t.”

          “OK, Brad. I’ll keep Betty as happy as I can.”

          “Thanks, Tobe. Be seeing you.”

          ~

          On my way out of the house to get the old car going, I passed by Mom in her kitchen again. She had just finished a snack for her lunch.

          “Toby will be over to see you around One this afternoon, Mom. He’s scared shitless, of course. I told him to bring his ribbon for the fun of it. He almost died with that thought. But, as I thought he would, he’s gonna push his way through this for you. I explained how he’d likely be feeling better afterwards if he could have a talk with you.”

          Blushing, Mom spoke weakly to say, “I guess I’ll have to get dressed.”

          “Uh... Mom, it might be best if you didn’t tell Toby who I have a date with this afternoon.”

          My afterthought caught Mom off guard. She jerked about from nervousness to listen to my words. Then, as she replied, I saw her hands trembling. She said, “I understand that, honey. Don’t worry.”

          Stepping back to give Mom a hug and a kiss, I felt her heart pumping madly. Her voice cracked as she said, “Be careful, honey.”

          I left believing that Mom may have had a certain agenda in play.

          ~    

mjohan07