This story continues to follow the affair between Jay, a young English naval officer, and Mrs Hazel Kellerman, a widowed neighbour of his aunt, who is in her early fifties. I’ve again written it as a split narrative; relating the tale first from Jay’s and then from Mrs K’s perspective.
On the Monday I spent another rather boring day at the college trying to get to grips with the spoken Arab language. To be honest, I could hardly concentrate at all; my mind was full of the great sex I’d had with Mrs. K the day before, and the delightful thoughts I had imagining my next time with her, which was thankfully to be that very evening.
Try as I may at my task, my head was just filled with thoughts of her: her charming warm personality, the way she made me totally and utterly relaxed, and her full, ripe mature body, those big heavy breasts topped with massive nipples, her soft creamy skin, her full round ass. But, maybe most attractive of all was her huge sexuality. I was enchanted by her; totally enveloped physically and mentally in our affair. With her, I was experiencing a level of sexual hunger and fulfilment that I would have previously thought impossible.
I’d guessed she may be in her early fifties (I thought it perhaps impolite to ask), due to the age of her children and the way she related some of her life experiences when we talked; bands in concerts and festivals she had attended, films she has seen at the cinema with her deceased husband, tales of her youth etc. But, while she may be the best part of thirty years older than me, and two of her three children my senior, she was very fit and toned. In fact, she was just about the sexiest woman I had ever set my eyes on, let alone bedded.
Sometimes, via her conservative, lady-like dress sense and use of language, I thought she deliberately accentuated and exaggerated the age gap between us. I believed this was because she felt as much of a thrill fucking a man young enough to be her son as I did screwing a much older mature lady. It was just that air of forbidden fruit, the sense that there was something naughty, at the least unconventional, in two people such as us making love. It was such a delicious feeling.
Mid afternoon I left the college and returned to my aunt’s house. By the time I showered and changed clothes it was 3.30, which seemed to me a frustratingly long time from the 7.00 o’clock we had arranged to meet to go for a drink and maybe a meal in a favourite country pub she knew.
I debated doing some work, reading, exercising or surfing the net for a while, but lust got the better of me. “What the hell,” I said to myself, “Let’s see what Mrs. K’s up to right now.”
I’d seen her car parked in her drive on my way back, so knew that she was in. I only hoped she was alone. As I went to knock on her front door I heard music playing quite loudly, it appeared to be coming from the back of the house.
Instead of knocking I walked down the side path following the song, I think it was an early nineteen-seventies soul song, maybe by Isaac Hayes. She loved that kind of music. Now at the back of the property, I looked through a window into a utility room and saw Mrs. K ironing a blouse. She was also moving her full hips in time to the music and silently mouthing some of the words. The sight made me kind of laugh and smile at the same time.
I knocked hard on the window and she appeared momentarily startled, before she noticed me, opened a door for me and smiled with both her mouth and her beautiful, deep brown eyes. We shared a warm greeting and short kiss before we moved inside. It was another warm day and she was barefooted, and wearing a loose pair of shorts and one of my short denim shirts. She had no make-up on and her curled dark hair was tied up. But anyway, she looked just beautiful to me. She had obviously been out in the sun earlier as her skin had a freshly tanned look, and best of all, I had caught her not wearing a bra, which was obvious as her large breasts hung slightly low in a very alluring way, and between the buttonholes of the shirt at chest height I could see exposed flesh. From the pile of washing she was ironing a lacy white bra was obviously next in line.
“Oh Jay, just look at me,” she laughed out more then spoke, “I’m hardly a glamorous sight.”
My cock was stirring rapidly, and I felt my face getting warm. “Don’t be silly,” I replied, “Mrs. K you look just fantastic, good enough to eat.”
“Well young man, is that a statement or an offer?” “And,” she said in a mock stern voice, “For the last time, call me Hazel!”
“Ok Mrs errr Hazel,” I teased, “It’s an offer, and it’s a request, and I can beg well if I have to.”
Mrs. K laughed, and then looked down at my crotch; the swell in my jeans was obvious.
“Well Jay, you should know that as a girl I was given some advice, which was basically to keep a ‘suitor’ at a slight distance, so as both not to appear ‘easy’ and to raise the expectation level for later if so desired. Perhaps (she was in teasing mood again), in the modern vernacular, an element of what you may loosely translate as ‘treat them mean to keep them keen.’ Fortunately for you, I have always considered that advice to be complete rubbish and thus ignore it. Now Jay, would you be so kind as to remove all of your clothes immediately to let me feast my eyes upon your magnificent youthful body please?”
I did as requested, probably in about three seconds. Mrs. K’s face was illuminated by just the huge salacious grin as she beckoned me towards her.
We kissed deeply and hungrily, our tongues rolled and wrestled together as I tasted her sweet warm breath. Her hands ruffled my hair then slowly and sensually, lightly scrolled down my back before resting on my butt cheeks, which she kneaded firmly, almost as though she was working bread dough. She loved my ass.
Still kissing, I removed a hair clip, letting her dark curls fall free and unbuttoned her shirt and then eased it off her. Her magnificent breasts pressed softly against my skin… so warm… so wonderful. The massive nipples were firm and hugely distended.
Mrs. K then curled a hand between my legs and tenderly squeezed my full balls. I replied by slipping her shorts and panties down her full creamy thighs and eased my fore and middle fingers through her very lush dark pubic bush, pressed on her prominent clit then slipped them into her mature pussy. She was very, very wet. I just had to then put the fingers in my mouth, breaking our kiss, to taste her unique and wonderful juices.
She then stepped back a pace, and her deep eyes glinted fleetingly and almost wickedly before she knelt down and, holding it firmly at the base, eased several inches of my big hard tool into her clever, full-lipped cunning mouth. I stroked her head and she made eye-contact with me as she sucked steadily, alternating with rolling her tongue all around the head and opening of my cock-eye.
I heard my breathing rasp out loud. I can only describe this as blow-job heaven. I watched and felt this mature beauty taste my leaking clear pre-cum, and lick up and down the thick vein running on the underside of my cock, before she tenderly sucked each testicle in turn as though they were precious to her. It felt as though they were being given a wonderful bath as she worked them with her tongue.
I felt a familiar tension build up beep in my stomach.
“Hazel, I’m gonna cum, gonna shoot sweetheart,” I warned.
Her mouth left my balls for a second. “Do it for me baby,” she almost pleaded, before holding my dick with both hands. The cock-head was about 1 inch from her open mouth and aimed at it.
“Awwwwww, awwwwww, I almost screamed, hearing a deep rasp to my voice in the second before waves of my thick creamy cum exploded into her mouth. I was giddy and almost unsteady on my feet. As I blew out the last of my load I watched her. She was gamely sucking cum back into her throat, although an amount had seeped out of the side of her mouth and was slowly going south. Some dripped onto her big soft breasts, forming a semi-transparent 1 inch circle, which glistened like a jewel as the afternoon sun beamed its illuminating rays upon it. Mrs. K rubbed it into her skin as though it was a precious moisturiser.
There was a silence permeating the room for several long seconds. I broke it. “Wow Hazel, you are one fine lady. Thank-you.”
“Baby,” she replied, coughing slightly no doubt with some of the cum still in her throat, “Believe me, the pleasure was mine.” Then she licked her lips.
In this utility room were also a couple of large freezers and a washing machine. I moved across to the washing machine, set in on a slow spin cycle and switched it on.
“What are you doing Jay?” Mrs. K asked. “You will soon find out Hazel,” I replied.
I walked across to her and picked her up from the waist and sat her on top of the machine. It was about 3 feet high. She placed her hands behind her so as to be balanced, and its gentle vibrations made the flesh around her upper thighs, hips and especially her big breasts jiggle around both comically and sexily. I laughed out loud at this while she looked somewhat bemused.
I found a small cushion whose cover was on the pile of ironing, and slipped it under her firm large butt for her to sit on for comfort, and to raise her for better access for what I intended. After a few seconds I knelt and asked her to: “Spread your legs wide please mam?”
She did, and I was presented with the delightful sight of her very long silky pink-red pussy, which was moist and glimmering. It was also releasing a most delightful aromatic aroma. I started licking up and down the length of her folds, before I settled my tongue on her prominent clit, and pressing, firmly rolled that sweet bud in circular motions, tracing shapes like I was writing the alphabet or numbers on it. I coupled this by slipping three fingers very deep into her pussy and probed all around her wonderful inner cavity.
Being highly sensual, as usual Hazel soon started leaking more pussy juice as I worked at this most enjoyable of tasks, and my efforts twinned with the vibrations of the washing machine brought her off delightfully. Soon her breathing was ragged and loud and as I had noticed before when she was aroused, her voice sounded far more girlish than it usually did. Soon she was moaning in a high pitched voice, clenching her buttocks and rising up and down rapidly as her orgasm ran through her.
I stood up and kissed her mouth then her large breasts, taking time to feed and feast on those delightful huge nipples. The pale skin of her breast was flushed a vivid pink.
I stood back a pace and she looked down at my cock, which was hard and literally pulsing. She said nothing but nodded.
I moved forward. The height of the washing machine was perfect for me to penetrate her standing up. I kissed her forehead, told her she was: “Wonderful and sexy,” wrapped my arms around the back of her shoulders and in one fluid movement slid my 8” cock balls deep inside her silky moist pink-red pussy.
“Oh baby, that’s beautiful,” she exclaimed passionately and shuddered as I began to fuck her with steady, slow, deep strokes.
We made out this way for a long pleasurable time. Mrs. K was loving it, her pussy was just so wet and warm. Her face wore a huge satisfied grin, which alternated with her lips pouting and opening from time to time as we shared kisses.
I fiddled with a dial on the washing, which sent the spin cycle from slow to fast.
“Wow, yikes, arghhhh, God, God, God,” she cried out as the now very rapid and shuddering vibrations bounced her beautiful ass around and I slammed away as fast as I could, ploughing my cock in and out of her like a piston at a great speed. For one moment she fleetingly lost her balance and I had to lurch forward quickly and help hold her steady. I remained gripping her firmly and closely as I continued slamming away with utter abandon, as beads of perspiration rolled down my face.
Mrs. K was shuddering from inside now in addition to being jiggled around by my pounding and the harsh vibrations of the washing machine. She was making an almost purring sound, as I felt her cum. This set me off and I shot my seed deep inside that beautiful cunt.
I turned the machine off and we hugged and leant against each other, and steadily caught our breath.
“God Jay baby, I’ve never done anything like that before in my life,” she said.
I was going to ask her if she enjoyed it, but declined stating the obvious for once. Instead I said, “Well, we’ll have to try that again; I could sit on it and you could sit on top of me. We could make love like that Hazel, hey, maybe you could even let me slip my cock up your gorgeous asshole like that my beautiful lady?”
“Maybe indeed Jay,” she replied, “and that will certainly be fun, but not now young man. For one thing I am totally and utterly exhausted and for another my, as you like to call it, asshole, is sore after your ministrations last night.”
With that I helped Mrs. K down. She actually had a problem standing let alone walking, as her legs had in her words, “Temporarily turned to jelly.”
With my help she got to the bathroom. I ran the taps for a couple of minutes, got us a bottle of red wine and two glasses and then we lay in the bath together soaking up the soothing water, drinking and chatting. Now fully refreshed, Mrs. K suggested we get out and get dressed, and go out for the meal as we had planned earlier. I agreed wholeheartedly, I was now starving.
However, this was not to be. Half way through dressing her magnificent body, the phone rang. Mrs. K didn’t say much, but mainly listened, and there was some degree of concern painted across her face. The conversation ran for several minutes, before she ended it, saying, quite briskly, “Ok, bye then, I’ll pick you up in about forty minutes.”
She looked disappointed. “Are you ok Hazel?” I asked. “Um yes I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly. “But I’m sorry Jay; we will have to cancel tonight. It’s my son Steven, it seems he has been expelled from his university today, and been removed from his halls of residence too. The fool of a boy has been caught in a university office trying to steal exam papers!” “He’s on a train now, coming home, I said I’d pick him up.”
With this any outer display of nonchalance fell away and two huge tears formed in the deep pools of her soulful brown eyes and ran down her finely sculpted cheekbones.
I didn’t know what to say, she was clearly very upset. I held her tight and stroked her neck and face lightly. Soon she took a deep breath and stood up; a fixed determined look now on her face.
“I’ll ring you later Jay, I really am sorry about this.”
I told her she had nothing to apologise for, wished her well, and kissed her before I made to leave. As I reached the front door, she hurried beside me. “Jay baby,” she said, “just tell me it won’t affect us badly if Steven stays with me a while?” She looked upset again.
“No Hazel, no way, you’re not getting rid of me easily,” I replied. She smiled and we kissed. Inappropriate as it may have been at that moment, I could not resist running my hands over her magnificent backside before we parted.
MRS. K’S STORY
My initial disappointment and sadness at my son Steven had changed into something approaching anger by the time I met him at the train station. At least he had the grace to appear somewhat crestfallen in his demeanour, apologising to me. But as I told him, it was not me he need feel sorry for, he was now, at nineteen, legally an adult and it was his future he was jeopardising not mine.
I did, though, demand an explanation of what had happened. It seemed that at this end of the first year of his degree course (he wanted to be an architect) he needed to achieve a good mark in his last exam to avoid having to re-sit the first year. He was clever and had always achieved well academically before, so this surprised me.
I questioned him on this and he admitted that he had become extremely lazy, preferring to spend his time in the student bars and sports facilities rather then studying, and had failed to submit previous coursework on time and had thus been marks penalised. A friend of his had been in a similar situation, and when they had learned where the exam papers were being kept, they decided to take them, photocopy and return them so that they were forewarned what they needed to know. They stole them from an office and returned them with no problem, but were caught by a security camera, and apparently dealt with humiliatingly. I had little sympathy.
I asked him what he was intending to do now. He replied that he firstly wanted to earn some money to go surfing later in the summer with his friends in Newquay, Cornwall, and then he would apply for an architectural course elsewhere.
By the time we had returned home, I was more sympathetic to him. He seemed genuinely sorry for his mistakes, and was ready to move on. Besides, I never could be hard on him for any length of time; since he was a young child, he had always been able to win me round with a shy smile and a shrug of the shoulders, an ability he still seemingly retained. We had always had a very close bond between us, and were quite physical in our affection; hugging on the sofa, laughing together as we watched comedy shows and films on television, and even sharing tears in the sad period of my husband’s fatal illness.
Over the next few days, I also noticed how more mature he appeared in his physical appearance. He seemed to have lost some weight in recent months, giving his face a more sculpted look, which coupled with his tall frame and warm blue eyes made him a very handsome young man. Steven sometimes seemed to almost be ‘eyeing’ me up; looking at me in a slightly lustful way. It was nothing blatant, just small things. I’d look in a mirror and he would be behind me, appearing to be staring at my bottom, or I would be talking to him and his gaze would sometimes drop to my breasts, he also seemed keen to hug me tightly when he greeted me in the morning or bade me goodnight. I fleetingly thought that he must be becoming very popular with girls of his age, and that perhaps another reason his studies had gone wrong were that he was enjoying an active sex life with them. In truth, this thought made me feel both jealous and simultaneously aroused. This reflection seemed to recur often in the next few days.
I didn’t, at this stage, feel like sharing with Steven the fact that I was having an affair with a young man only slightly older then himself. And although I continued my marvellous relationship with Jay, we were more discrete. Sometimes we met in Jay’s aunt’s house, two times we enjoyed wonderful liaisons in a local hotel, and on one memorable occasion we had a picnic in a remote country beauty spot, and afterwards shared delightful sex on a the rug I laid on the ground.
These were glorious summer days. My young lover and I enjoyed such a blissful physical element to our relationship. I was so lucky to have found a virile young man to explore my sexuality with. Oh, and how I enjoyed it! I loved stroking and caressing his strong muscular body and kissing his soft full lipped mouth. I revelled in cupping then sucking his testicles, and teasing the head of his cock before I slipped most of it into my throat and slurped on it like it was a giant lollipop. I bathed in ecstasy as he manipulated my clitoris with his fingers and tongue and stroked the inner walls of my pussy with his clever fingers. I even liked him rimming my ass, before he lubed it and gently and tenderly screwed it with long slow strokes, before spreading his warm seed deep in my bowels. I loved to drink his cum while he orgasmed with his erect pulsing member pressing down upon my tongue. Most of all I cherished every single time he penetrated me with his beautiful weapon, whether from above me, from the side, behind me, standing or with me on top; that was the best: being ridden long and slow, fast and hard, gently or roughly, with sweet tender words being spoken, or crude lustful swear words almost shouted as my orgasms wracked through my body and my juices wetted and coated him as we made love. I climaxed every time, before he would blast powerful waves of his cum in my inner walls. It was sexual bliss. Although it was blatantly morally wrong, sometimes when we were apart, I began to mix Jay and Steven together in my dreams and daytime fantasies. It was as though they were becoming intertwined as one person in my inner psyche.
After over a week or so of being home, and apparently trying, Steven still had not found any employment, so I assisted him by contacting Derek, an old friend of myself and my late husband, who ran a small building company, and asked if he had any work for Steven. Derek did, but explained it was very demanding manual work. Steven would mainly be carrying hods of bricks up ladders or digging trenches, but, although unused to these kinds of tasks, he was young, fit and strong and should be able to handle it ok.
During is first working day, I tried to do some research for Steven on the Internet, looking for likely courses he could apply for. Infuriatingly, while I was engaged in this, my quite new computer then crashed and would not reboot properly. I knew Jay was quite knowledgeable about computers. I rang him on his mobile phone to ask for help but it was switched off, so I left a message asking him to come over and help me when he had finished at college.
When Steven returned home he looked exhausted. He flopped down in a chair in the kitchen.
“Mum, today nearly killed me, I was lifting for hours,” he said, rubbing at his arms.
I fixed some food and joined him at the table. “It’s ok son, your body will get used to it in a day or two.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right Mum, and at least the wages Derek said he will pay me will be enough to me to be able to afford to go surfing in a few weeks.”
Steven gave a satisfied grin at the thought, and then looked up at me. “Mum remember how you used to give Dad massages when his back hurt sometimes after he had played golf or had been working in the garden? He always used to say you had magic hands.”
“Yes he did Steven,” I replied, smiling at the memory.
“Well Mum, can you give me one of your massages to help ease my aching back please?”
I was uneasy at the way he said this. He looked at me slightly lasciviously, almost lecherously.
“Look Steven, you go and have a long hot shower, that should ease some of your aches and pains,” I suggested. He nodded a reluctant agreement then left for the bathroom.
I sat at the kitchen table, picking at my meal. I debated the situation with myself. Was my son trying to subtly make some kind of a move on me, using the massage as a subterfuge, even some sort of code? Or was this just a case of him wanting some relief. I determined not to be cynical about it and that if he was still in physical discomfort, I would try and help him out.
Despite the shower, Steven really did seem extremely keen for a massage. “Mum, my back hurts very badly, my arms ache and have lost strength, and my legs are giving me severe pain. My neck feels kind of cramped and sore too,” he complained.
I remember thinking that if that was the case, it was surprising he was able to move at all. He was sounding like a person who had been involved in a serious car accident rather than a fit young man who had done one day of manual work. I decided, though, to keep this thought to myself and to try and help him out. After all, what kind of mother refuses her son help in an hour of need?
I asked Steven to go into his bedroom, while I went and found some massage oil, which I warmed quickly in the microwave oven. When I returned he was facing away from me. He had taken his T-shirt off, and I noticed that his musculature was far more developed than I remember from a holiday we had in Greece a year or so ago. At nineteen, he was now a strong young man, with slim hips tapering into a sinuous back and wide shoulders. The sight of him made me realise that he was now a grown man, even if he did not always act as one.
On hearing me enter the room, Steven turned around and smiled. The way his lips curled up and the warmth in his blue eyes reminded me of my late husband Alan. I then noticed his stomach was now a smooth flat six-pack. I suddenly felt quite flushed in the face.
I must have appeared so too, as Steven asked, “Mum are you ok?”
“Yes dear, I’m fine,” I replied, not sounding in the least bit convincing.
“Ok, it’s just that you look a bit red in the face,” he said. “Oh, and shall I take my jeans off so you can massage my legs too?”
“Oh, ummm, yes,” I stuttered. I was getting a bit flustered.
Steven stooped and pulled his jeans off. He was left wearing only a rather tight black pair of Calvin Klein boxer shorts, which looked rather gorgeous on him. He lay face down on his bed and moved so as to be comfortable and I knelt with my knees outside his on the bed. I squirted a generous amount of the massage oil on my hands and began working on him.
Firstly, I worked on his neck and the muscles that connect it to the shoulders. He felt quite tight and bunched, but as I pressed firmly and worked the soothing liquid into them they seemed to relax and soften. Steven was certainly pleased. “Oh that’s great Mum, you’ve got a lovely touch.”
Next I placed my hands both side of his spine and worked up and down his back, from the neck to the top of his shorts. Then I just generally probed the larger muscles nearer his shoulders. From time to time Steven would emit contented sighing sounds, and I was pleased to help him. Yes, I was still annoyed about his university expulsion, but at least he was endeavouring to get onto a fresh course, and was prepared to do a day’s hard labour to earn his way in the world. And then there was the fact that I found massaging him so enjoyable. He had such beautiful hard young flesh.
After probably 15-20 minutes attending to his back, I applied some oil to the rear of his legs. His calf muscles were particularly tight so I firmly kneaded them which seemed to help judging by Steven’s continuing sighs. The upper rear parts of his legs were also somewhat tense, so I worked oil in quite firmly. I began to find the action of massaging him quite hypnotic.
“Mum,” Steven said in a relaxed friendly way, breaking my reverie, “That’s great, but if I take the shorts off you can get to the top of the muscles there, which are sore and you haven’t reached yet.”
“Yes, certainly son, you do that,” I found myself saying almost automatically. Only a second after I had spoken this did I realise what that entailed: my beautiful young son being totally naked with me massaging his body!
Well, at this realisation I felt quite shocked. My face burned and there was some tightness in my chest. Was this appropriate? Should I end this massage now? For a few moments I debated with myself, before deciding that this ‘was’ only a massage, and that we were two adults, albeit mother and son.
As Steven turned on his side to remove his shorts I deliberately looked at the bottle, avoiding him. He quickly resumed his position, and I spread some more oil in my palms. I knelt over him again. ‘Oh my God,’ his buns were gorgeous: tight, smooth, beautiful. For a while I just stared at his beauty. I was wet now; I could feel juice moving in and from my pussy and begin the process of soaking my panties; my clit throbbed. I knew right there and then I had lost control, and I didn’t care. ‘Guilt,’ I said to myself, ‘Screw it.’
Steven’s legs were pressed together, meaning I couldn’t see his testicles or penis, which was a shame, and something I would have to rectify soon. I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit, realising he blatantly knew exactly what he was doing. Aching body indeed!
I rubbed and very lightly spanked one taught gorgeous smooth buttock and leant my mouth close to his ear. “Are you ok son?” I asked in a deliberately wanton way. “Ohhh, yes Mum, yes,” he replied, making no attempt to disguise his pleasure.
I moved my hands all over those sweet, firm rounded globes, revelling in the sight and feel of his beautiful ass, which reminded me of a carved Greek statue. The oil I applied made a delightful sheen; he was glistening; those buns looked edible.
I knelt and planted some kisses on his cheeks. I then licked them, sucked them and lightly bit them as I slipped a hand under my skirt, inside my drenched panties and pushed down on my pulsing clit.
Then I broke my mouth worship of his butt, and moved my face up to kiss the back of his neck, before gently blowing in his ear. Steven turned his head and pouted his lips. We kissed softly and gently; tongue meeting tongue. I broke the kiss, “Are you ok with this Mum?” he asked. “What do you think Steven,” I replied, trying to inject some mock authority in my voice as I traced one oiled warm finger down his spine and parted his butt cheeks. I let it rest at the opening of what I discovered to be one very cute puckered anal ring. I wanted to taste him in the way Jay tasted me. I wanted to slip my tongue deep inside his tight asshole.
I moved my mouth south and resumed kissing those sculpted firm cheeks. Steven was now actually twisting on the bed. He loved this!
He shifted onto his knees a touch, making his butt rise a few inches. I took this as a cue, and spread his cheeks apart; he helped by widening his legs for me. His asshole looked just sooo beautiful; crinkly, wrinkly and puckered. I dived into it, ramming my tongue as deep inside him as I could, reaming him, licking inside and revelling in his fresh taste.
He moaned in total contentment and pleasure all the while as I slowly ate his ass. After some considerable period of time, I removed my tongue. I looked at him, and saw two beautiful smooth balls hanging slightly. His hard cock was pointing forward, almost flat against his belly.
“Turn over please Steven?” I asked him. He did, presenting me with the wonderful sight of his erect tool sticking up proudly. He was clean shaven there too. He looked fantastic.
I sat across his lower legs, and asked him, “Do you want to see my breasts son?” He nodded and smiled, and I saw his cock actually jerk up and down twice.
I’ve always been very happy with my large boobs. Despite no longer being a young woman, they are still quite firm, only hanging a small amount when released from a bra. Men seem to love my very big nipples too, and give them plenty of attention, which I love as they are extremely sensitive.
As Steven watched me intently and hungrily, I slowly unbuttoned my white blouse and discarded it; then did the same with my bra, exposing my chest to him.
Steven literally licked his lips, then leant forward and began sucking my nipples hungrily; almost frantically. In a muffled voice he exclaimed, “I love you Mum, you’re the best.”
“I love you too, and want you to cum for me Steven,” I told him, trying to instil some authority in my voice. I picked up the massage oil bottle and squirted some on his right palm. “Son, let me see you cum.”
He leant back and worked his oiled hand around his rock hard cock, crudely pumping it a few times before shouting out, “Yes Mum, yesssssssss,” as strings of cum shot from the pulsing swollen head and sprayed onto my breasts.
I scooped some on my fingers and tasted it. Yummmmm, it was sumptuous. I then began rubbing the thick cream into my breasts. Steven joined in too and we met in a passionate kiss… and then someone began to open the bedroom door!
To be continued……….
I love getting feedback on my stories, and if anyone wants to write to me with any comments or suggestions, then that will be great. My address is: Jay_Lloyd_Samuel@yahoo.co.uk. If you leave me your e-mail address, I promise to reply.