Poppy stumbled into the hallway. She giggled, fumbling her keys out the front door before closing it with a bump of her generous hip. She smoothed the front of her skin-tight dress down over her thighs, coughed, and steadied herself. She'd had more fun tonight than she could remember having since college. Loving the way her new dress hugged her figure, she strode confidently down the hallway. The way all those men had been unable to take their eyes off her the entire evening made her feel incredible. Real men. Men who knew how to assert themselves, who showed a woman their interest without being apologetic. God, she loved the way it juiced her confidence.
Her boss, Jerry, in particular, had been casting appreciative glances over her figure, and his wife was nearly half Poppy's age. Yes, it had been a good decision to wear this dress out. It was wasted on Charlie. Poppy had been a good girl all her life. Hadn't she earned the right to be just a little bad?
As she stepped into the lounge she was startled when the standing lamp flicked on. She froze.
There sat Brent in a pool of light, the expression on his face grave.
She'd not realized that he was coming home. Brent had been opting to spend most of his weekends in the city where he'd recently started working. She saw he was still wearing his suit, though his jacket was off and his tie was loosened. She felt something like warm honey being poured down her spine. Her boy was all grown up and so handsome that those city girls must be throwing themselves at him.
"What time do you call this?" He demanded, oozing a barely leashed menace. His tone stern, his manner commanding, nothing like his toothless lion of a father. He was definitely more her son than Charlie's.
"When did you get home?" Poppy prepared to defend herself and then remembered who she was. She was the mother here and Brent was her child. She stood up straight, placed a hand on her hip, and redirected haughtily, "What business is that of yours?"
"You've been out awfully late. Would dad approve, what with him being out of town on a conference?"
"I don't care what he thinks. I'm a grown woman. If I choose to go out and have drinks with my work friends that has nothing to do with him. Or you, for that matter."
Brent snorted, "Dad might be too soft to do anything about it, but," His eyes traveled up her length. She suddenly felt the thinness of her dress, clinging to her like a second skin, "This behavior reflects on all of us. I'm not going to stand for it."
"Stand for what? I was just having after-work drinks with some friends."
"Male friends?"
She remained silent.
"Until after midnight? Dressed like that?!"
Poppy looked down at her dress. It stretched over her wide hips and strained to contain her prodigious bust. She'd bought it because of how provocative it was. She wore it tonight knowing it would get her the attention she craved.
"Well, maybe if your father paid me some attention..." The muttered words came out before she could stop them.
Brent shook his head. He couldn't fathom it, how could his father ignore his mother for even a second? Those curves were the stuff of poetry. His father had had the wherewithal to win her hand but lacked the stamina to keep it. Brent would be damned if some other creep wormed his way into their lives just because his father was too cowardly to fight to keep his wife. Brent knew her better than anyone. She was someone who appreciated strong character and a firm set of boundaries. He knew this because it was the way she raised him
"What are you going to do about it, anyway?" Poppy threw back her chocolate-colored hair and scoffed. She was sick of the pleading of inferior men like Charlie. Having reached her limit she pointed out the room and ordered, "Go to bed Brent." She turned to leave, her dismissive tone stinging her son's pride.
He grabbed her by the wrist and halted her progress. "If you insist on acting this way I'm going to have to bring back some of the discipline that has been sorely lacking in this household of late. Dad might have dropped the ball, but I'm picking it up."
Poppy felt a thrill in her chest. She loved to see a man take command like this. "Oh yeah, Brent? How do you plan on doing that?" She challenged, cocking a shapely eyebrow. If Brent was anything like his father he would just roll over now. That was what all men did when she turned the full force of her femininity on them. Even the thought of that timidity made her lip curl with disgust.
Brent felt his anger rise. "The same way you disciplined me as a child," he replied in an icy tone, surprising her with his unflinching control.
"Ha!" Poppy snorted and made to move away from Brent. But he held her tight. She glared at her son's restraining hand but he bared his teeth and said, "I see you need a little lesson right now." He jerked her towards him. She squawked as he caught her roughly and bent her over his knee. Her huge breasts squashed against his leg, almost spilling out of her dress. Her big ass was laid out perfectly on his lap. Poppy was just opening her mouth to protest when the flat of Brent's hand landed with a resounding crack across her backside. The mound of flesh, tightly packed into the thin material, quivered from the blow.
But, to Brent's surprise, instead of protest or shocked silence, his actions were only met with laughter.
"Oh, come on Brent. I'm not a child. This isn't going to work." Poppy was baiting her son now. That smack had set something tingling in her belly. She wasn't sure she wanted it to go away just yet. Suddenly she felt alive for the first time in years.
Determined, Brent argued back, "Maybe I'm just being too soft on you. I seem to remember that you had some pretty strict rules about how a smack is to be properly administered."
"What do you..." but she was cut off as Brent brazenly peeled up the hem of her dress. She struggled in his grip but he held her with effortless strength. Her impressive backside, creamy white and flawless in complexion was suddenly bared to her son. She gasped at the cool air on her ass, the only protection to her modesty the briefest of thongs, which was almost entirely swallowed up by her plump cheeks. "Hey!" She started but then squealed when Brent landed a truly stinging blow on her right cheek.
Her flesh was wonderfully mushy. Where his hand struck it sank deep into the meat of her ass and sent out a swell of flesh that resounded through her body right up to her tits. He ground his hand into the wounded area as she protested and struggled against his hold.
She was still recovering from the shock of the blow when she felt his fingers pluck rudely at her thong. "Is this the sort of thing a decent married woman wears to drinks with 'work friends?" He asked.
Jesus, her son was fingering her underwear.
Brent pulled his hand back and grinned wolfishly at the red handprint that had already formed on her cheek. "Brent," she warned but was silenced again with another swift blow to her left cheek. This stung as bad as the first. Brent was not holding back. Her ass, cooler than the rest of her at first, warmed up rapidly under the first two blows. A healthy blush appeared as blood rushed to the affected areas.
"How dare you," Poppy seethed at her son. She never used the word "Stop," though which intrigued Brent. He would have let her go in an instant if she showed any signs of real distress. Instead, she only seemed to get more spirited. This excited him, this was the mother he remembered. Not some cowed housewife, but a vivacious woman who was not afraid to stand up for herself and, adding the perspective of his adult self, was not ashamed of her sensuality.
"Are you ready to apologize for acting like a wanton tease?" Brent growled deep in his throat.
"Why, you little..."
Brent slapped her twice in rapid succession, his hand rebounding off her tensed ass perfectly to line up for the next strike. His mother yelped and writhed in his grip. Her bottom was expansive yet shapely. Brent reveled in the sight and feel of it and the sound it made when he landed a smack, that would give him wet dreams for years. He wondered if she could feel his hardening cock jabbing up into her stomach as she wriggled ineffectually on his lap.
Each time Poppy opened her mouth to utter a demand or a reproach her son slapped her ass with speed and precision. Her poor bottom was soon glowing red and painfully sensitized. Worst of all she had to fight down the urge to moan. The tingling in her lower belly was turning into a tribal drum beat. How was Brent doing this to her? The exquisite pain, the humiliation of being spanked by her own son, and the stern discipline she was receiving stoked a fire deep in her long-forgotten libido.
Why couldn't Charlie be like this? He'd seemed like that when her friends had set them up on a blind date. An older man, experienced, and already successful. A man who appeared to know what he wanted and was not afraid to take it. On the surface he'd been everything she'd been looking for. How could she know it was all bravado? In less than a year of marriage she'd figured out how to walk all over her husband and have him thank her for it. But Brent? My God, Brent was every bit the man she'd been dreaming of. No one spoke to her like this. No-one turned her insides gooey like he was doing. It terrified and thrilled her in equal measures.
Brent, meanwhile, was marveling at his mother's responsiveness. Even at his young age he considered himself a discipline aficionado. He craved Alpha status but found it difficult to navigate in these modern times. How do you figure out where the line lay between assertive discipline and domineering control when the line seemed to always be shifting? His mother understood though. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her panting breaths. This was a woman who craved to be dominated.
When Poppy, ass and face burning with shame and frustration, finally came to the realization that her son would not cut her an inch of slack, she held her tongue. She glared at him balefully, trying to hide her awakening desire, and he offered a smirk in return.
"That's better," he said in modulated tones. As he spoke he began to soothingly stroke circles on her pink and tender skin. It was far too intimate for the touch of a son, but she did not shy away. She had to fight the urge to rub against his hand like a cat in heat.
Her whole backside was a patchwork of red handprints. But, after the fury of her spanking, his soft hand felt incredible on her raw skin. She couldn't help herself, when Brent's stroke let his fingers stray too far into her ass crack she let out an involuntary groan. Her asshole and pussy were burning with need. She could feel her panties sticking to her wetly. When she looked up, face flushed almost as red as her ass, Brent was giving her a soul-searching look. She blanched and hurriedly looked away. She could not let him, her own son, know what this had done to her.
Brent was intrigued by her sudden shift to submissiveness. It was not unwelcome, but he reasoned that there had to be more to it than just the spanking. Narrowing his eyes he ordered, "Stand up."
"You can't order me around like this. I'm your mother..." She started but she stopped when he casually lifted his hand. She suddenly felt trapped. If she stood up Brent might see her arousal. But if she didn't the spanking might continue and that would only make her situation worse.
She tried to stand up rapidly. She had to catch her breasts just before they tumbled free of her dress and tuck them back into place. This cost her precious time though and when she tried to turn to flee Brent held her by the part of her dress which remained rolled up to her waist. It had required a considerable effort earlier to get that tiny garment to fit over her womanly curves.
"Stop," he warned, emotionless, as she tried to pull free. "Let me have a look at you." For a woman who loved to have her body admired, she squirmed like a teenager in her first bikini when Brent turned his high-beam strength gaze on her. He took her by the hips and swiveled her so that her broad ass was eye-level with him. She shifted her weight as he went over her bare backside with meticulous scrutiny. He shook his head at the ruby glow and sighed, "You brought this on yourself you know."
Poppy stiffened. She was about to retaliate when she cottoned on that those were her own words he was using against her. Words she said dozens of times to him when dishing out the punishment he, no doubt, had richly deserved. She swallowed her retort.
Brent realized something then. A theory had been developing while he meted out her just desserts. He remembered back to his boyhood. He suspected now that his mother had been acting out the discipline she so desperately craved herself. He saw in her shame and wide-eyed alertness a poorly concealed need.
"Turn around," he commanded.
Poppy resisted. But, seeing his unflinching gaze and, realizing she was defeated, slowly began to revolve her body.
Brent let out a short laugh of surprise. Poppy moved to cover herself but her son caught both her hands. Her face burned fiercely with the shame as he took in her crotch. Her panties were soaked through. Her lust was so overwhelming it ran down her thighs in glistening rivulets. He could smell it coming off her in waves. Brent tutted as he let his eyes roam up and down his mother's mostly bared lower half. Wherever his eyes landed her skin felt like it was blistering with the heat of it. Poppy had to fight to keep her hands at her side. She was not going to let Brent see her discomfort.
When he moved she flinched, expecting another blow to land. Oddly, she felt slightly disappointed when it did not. The ache in her bottom was already transferring to an ache deep in her nethers which only served to increase the humidity in her already swampy panties. Poppy's thick thighs rubbed together almost, but not quite giving her the friction she needed to soothe her lustful discomfort. The humiliation of her wantonness being paraded in front of her own son stung her eyes.
She was completely taken aback when, instead of more punishment Brent said, his voice heavy with sympathy, "You poor girl. Look at you." She followed his gaze and saw again her messy crotch. "Dad doesn't know how to take care of you, does he?" Brent continued his motion, moving with the caution of someone approaching a skittish horse until his fingers rested lightly on the feeble string which cut deep into her fleshy hips. Poppy's hands bunched and uncurled repeatedly. This was so wrong. She had to put a stop to this. But Brent was saying out loud all the things she'd been thinking for years. How did he know?
He had to dig his fingers deep into the indentations in her skin to get them under her panties. "I can hardly fix the problem if I don't have a look first," He cooed. Poppy let out a nervous hum of uncertainty as her son began to peel down her panties.
Poppy was horrified with herself for letting this happen but Brent's authoritative gaze pinned her in place. She felt the smoldering coal in her lower belly flare with heat as he exposed her sex right in the middle of the family living room. Her panties rolled up into a thin band which he left cutting into her midthigh. Brent shook his head and made sympathetic sounds in the back of his throat. Her pussy was in a pitiable state. Her untrimmed pubic hair was wet and in complete disarray. Her pussy lips were inflamed and reddened with unrequited desire.
"Brent," Poppy whined pathetically. Her blatant lust scalded her with shame. How could she let her own son see her like this? She'd had her bottom paddled like a small child and now she was a quivering mess. Why did her body have to betray her now?
Brent ignored her. Seeing her son's effortless authority filled her with a confusing flood of pride and need. Brent held out his hand. Poppy knew she should move back but he was holding her firmly around her hips, hand gripping a thick roll of ass flesh. She was frozen with mortified fascination. Would he really touch her down there? Her gut clenched at the thought. What was wrong with her that she wanted him to do it so much?
Poppy gasped as her son dipped a precise finger into the dripping folds of her exposed cunt. Poppy jerked involuntarily at the contact but Brent held her tight. When he pulled the finger back it had a slick sheen. Poppy whimpered. This was shameful. Brent rubbed the finger against the ball of his thumb, smearing her oil around and analyzing it with grinning enthusiasm. He gave her a knowing look that made her stomach do a flip before pointedly placing his finger on his tongue and tasting her tang like he was checking it for impurities. By the smile that curled up the corners of his mouth, he did not find any.
"Poor mom," Brent palmed her sex and gave it a gentle squeeze. "No wonder you go out looking for attention when you're not getting the treatment you need at home." He caressed her slit with his lubricated finger. She took in a breath, pushing out her chest, her face a mask of barely restrained emotion. He pushed the finger through the fleshy valley, parting the curtains of her labia. Heat surrounded his digit and liquid clung to him like he was brushing the leaf of a dewed lilly. He curled the finger up to dip into the tiny honey pot at her core.
Poppy gasped as her son's finger sank into her, exploring her most intimate regions with possessive confidence. Her pussy convulsed around him reflexively. Already she felt she was just an unguarded moment away from coming right in front of him. He carefully plumbed her interior while, at the same time, bringing his thumb to rest right on the point of her aching clit.
He let his thumb draw a slow circle while his finger continued its exploration. "Such a beautiful, neglected pussy," Brent sympathized. Poppy whimpered. "Come here," he pulled her to him with the hand on her ass and the one gripping her pussy. Poppy penguin-waddled the few steps to her son and let him plop her down on his lap, his finger still inserted in her tight hole. He pulled it out with a slurp and held it up in front of both their faces. She watched, fascinated as he let her juices drip off his middle finger only to be caught by his outstretched tongue. "Mmm, ambrosia," he met her stunned expression with a self-satisfied grin.
"I know, I've been tough on you mom. But it was you who taught me the importance of strict boundaries. You've been a bit naughty recently, haven't you?" Poppy did not react at first, but her mind immediately shot back to her thoughts of Jerry. The pride she felt earlier turned sour and she felt her cheeks burn. Brent's gaze did not relent until she finally capitulated and gave a small nod. "Good. Admitting you made a mistake is the most important step. You also taught me that making good choices should be rewarded. That was a good choice, so..." Brent slid his mother's panties all the way down. Despite her misgivings, she complied and even assisted by lifting each leg in turn. Her panties bundled on the floor, he placed a firm hand on her warm, soft inner thigh and gave it gentle pressure until it slid aside. He did the same to the other and Poppy now sat astride her son's lap, facing away from him, her legs spread wide. She could not believe how obediently she was complying, or how much she wanted to. The night air felt cool on her exposed pussy. Something rigid was pressed into her lower back. It sent a shiver through her.
Brent's fingers danced from her knee up her thigh. "Just relax," He whispered in her ear, "I'm going to make you feel so good you won't want to go off and parade around for strangers." His lips brushed her neck, detonating a wave of goosebumps across her body. Her lips parted in a silent gasp. Then Brent's hand sank into the wet tangle of curls between her plump thighs. They descended through the humid thicket while he kissed up her neck. He took her earlobe between his teeth and teasingly nibbled it just behind her diamond earring, a gift from her husband on their fifteenth wedding anniversary. This was so deliciously wicked. Poppy gulped the air just as Brent's fingers found her cleft once more. She was so wet his fingers just slipped right down her channel. Her fleshy folds parted like sea fronds and she arched her back as two thick fingers forced themselves inside her cramped entrance.
"You're so tight," Her son growled, her ear still stretched by the pull of his teeth. Slowly he pumped his digits in and out of her. Poppy's thighs widened as much as they could, encouraging him to go deeper, to stretch her wider. It had been so long since someone appreciated how virgin-tight her pussy was. Brent's kisses descended down to her shoulder and over her clavicle. When her dress got in his way he used the hand not plugged into her cunt to drag the material off her shoulder. Her bra strap went with it, immediately relaxing the strain on her high-hoisted bust. He ran a tongue over the exposed skin. The free-roaming hand, meanwhile, snaked across her chest and cupped a handful of her breast. He squeezed her, feeling the pulpy knot of her nipple through the dress and bra. If she was not so lost in the pleasure coursing through her body Poppy would've been mortified by the loud squelching of her starved pussy.
Brent's hand tugged rudely at her plunging cleavage. His unfaltering confidence melted the wards she typically put up in intimate situations. A man like this could be trusted to give her body what it needed, even when she didn't know it yet herself. The dress slid down, revealing her bra with her huge breasts sitting heavy in their cups. He kissed up her arm, breathing in the sweet scent, mixed with an erotic musk under her arm. Suddenly the straps on her other shoulder were jerked aside. Brent's hand clutched at the place where her two bra cups met. Poppy looked down her body at where her son's hands were: one fingering her electrified pussy and the other about to bare her breasts. Her breaths were short and shallow, her tits jiggling with each movement.
He yanked downwards and Poppy's massive tits spilled out onto her chest. They sloshed and swayed before Brent stilled them with his hand. He scooped up one heavy breast, his large hand unable to contain all of it. Maturity had made her tits droop lower than she would have liked, but it also lent them a generous weightiness. Brent certainly appeared to relish both this and their elasticity. Her areolae were broad and her breasts had enough mass to invert her nipples. His thumb and forefinger found one of these and began to tease it out of hiding, pinching and stretching it most pleasurably. His fingers rolled the emerging nipple, making Poppy hiss with pleasure.
Brent seemed to know just when Poppy's pussy was ready for a change. Feeling full and well attended to, her vagina released its grip on his fingers and let him slide them up her slit. Those dexterous fingers sought out her inflamed clitoris with tactical precision. She moaned when he rubbed a rough ridged tip over that hyper-sensitive node.
Meanwhile, he helped her lift her arm up and skated his tongue around the smoothly shaved depression under her arm and across to the swell of her large mammary. Poppy arched her back, willing her son onwards. Leaning around her, he nibbled the beautifully soft, mushy skin of her tit flesh. His left hand turned her areola to meet his lips. He sucked hard on the soft skin until the small nub he'd uncovered earlier popped back out. He sucked and licked, sucked and licked, working her shy nipple until it stiffened and stayed poking outwards.
Poppy let her arm fall around her son's neck. She cradled his head to her bare breast, mewling at the delightful pulses of pleasure being sent through her body as he worshiped her giant, neglected bosom. As with everything else, Brent showed an almost preternatural understanding of her body. His fingers were right on the very nexus of her pleasure center. His lips and tongue knew just how to coax the most sensation out of her nipple. It had been so long since anyone had taken the time to truly appreciate and pleasure her that she had no immunity to her son's focused attention.
He felt her growing climax as her muscles wound themselves tighter and tighter. He broke the rasping of his tongue on her raw nipple and commanded, "Don't even think about coming yet. I'm not done with you, mom. You hold back or I'll take my belt to you."
He must have known there was no hope of her being able to follow that order. She could have sworn she felt his wicked grin when he pressed his mouth back into her breast. Just the firm command and the thought of having leather cracking across her delicate skin were enough to catapult her past an already cracked and crumbling edge. His hand rummaged so expertly in her secret, silken folds that her core was already cramping almost to the point of pain.
She tried to obey him, he really did. She felt an overwhelming need to please him. It made her feel so good to finally have a man in her life worthy of her submission. But, no sooner had Poppy got a hold on her fragile willpower than it disintegrated like ash. She cried out, her cunt spasming. Every single one of the multitude of muscular convulsions occurring in her body was transferred into waves that quivered through her dense tits. Her orgasm was brutal. It had been repressed for so long that, now finally able to slip its leash, it went wild. She shook and bucked on Brent's lap. He held her by the writhing pussy and bit at her peaked nipple. Fluids gushed from her, soaking her son's hand and dribbling down onto his trousers. He did not relent even as she tried to curl up protectively around her spent nerve endings. He continued to massage countless micro-spams out of her until her body went limp with exhaustion. Brent kissed her cheek and down her jaw to her chin. When she finally went still and lay against him heaving for breath he extracted his fingers from within her. They came out dripping. Brent caught the first few drops in his open mouth. Then, thinking better of it, offered the rest to her. Poppy was uncertain. She felt she should be disgusted by the very idea of it. Yet, when Brent placed his fingers on her tongue she closed her lips around them and sucked her own juices off them ravenously. The taste was not unpleasant and the very wrongness of drinking her own climax off her son's fingers made her feel giddy.
Brent nuzzled her neck and massaged her breasts while Poppy recovered. "Does that feel better?" He asked, between kisses, "It was cruel to leave your pussy so unattended, wasn't it?" She nodded again. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get looked after from now on. But first," Poppy whimpered as Brent shifted beneath her, "We have to sort out your punishment."
Poppy's eyes opened wide. Brent smirked at her and he said, "Don't you remember? You were ordered not to come. I can't be indulgent. The only way you'll learn to listen to me is if I'm strict with you." He pushed her off his lap. The new threat had awoken her limp muscles. She found her body moving with mannequin-like compliance. He turned her to face the wall and helped position her knees on the sofa cushion and her arms up on the headrest. Part of her feared the lashing to come and another part thrilled at it. Strangely the dread had the effect of tightening the knot of anticipation in her belly. This sparked her fatigued nerve endings and, as Brent carefully adjusted her hips to make her bare ass stick out as far as possible, she felt a surging return of the burning need in her pussy.
Fearful of angering him further, she faced the wall. She could not see what he was up to and Brent cruelly let the anticipation build until she was nearly rabid with the conflicting emotions. He took a long time inspecting her cherry red, naked bottom.
Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, she risked a glance. Out of the corner of her eye she caught him sliding a hand up a very long, thick bulge in his trousers. Jesus that was big! Involuntarily she licked her lips.
"You see what you do to me?" He growled, hand moving to his belt. Poppy jumped when she realized he'd caught her peeking but Brent didn't admonish her. He made a big show of unclasping his buckle and slowly drawing the leather strap out of the loops around his waist.
"Tell me you want this," his voice was gravel on stone. He held the buckle in his right hand and wound the strap around his palm with meticulous care. Poppy gulped audibly. He paused and raised an expectant eyebrow. Poppy gave a timid nod. "Tell me you need this," Brent folded the remaining length of the belt in half. She nodded again, quicker this time. Poppy jumped as he brought it down with an ear-splitting crack across his palm. Brent smiled as he looked down and flexed his stinging hand. Poppy cleared her throat nervously. Should she stop him? This was going to hurt. She knew that. But why did that make her pussy clench with anticipation? She felt a droplet escape a crevice in her overhyped cunt. It immediately cooled as it ran down her thigh.
Brent stood, legs apart, shoulders squared. With masculine grace he rolled his shirt cuffs to above his elbows. His forearms were thick and muscular. He let the belt hang at his side with a gunslinger's ease. His trousers struggled to contain his straining erection. It felt so good to have a man look at her with such undisguised desire. The heat was coming off him in waves. Poppy felt her pelvic floor drop.
Brent smoothed a hand over her ass cheek. The thick muscle flexed involuntarily. Poppy chewed on her bottom lip expectantly. Brent raised the belt to shoulder height and stated, "I'm doing this to teach you some self-control. You'll thank me later."
Nervously, Poppy turned her head to the wall and closed her eyes. An eternity passed.
Brent brought the strap down with a sharp crack. Poppy heard the impact first then, a moment later, a sting like the lick of flames. She cried out, arching her back and squirming her hips.
She bit down hard on her lip, tears welling in her eyes. Fuck! That hurt even more than she'd anticipated. But she did not cry out or beg him to stop. Brent rubbed the welt that bloomed on her skin: dark red on red. As the pain dissipated it spiraled and reformed into a throb in her exposed, air-cooled pussy.
"Good girl," Brent nodded appreciatively.
He swept his arm back and brought it down for another lash. Even though Poppy was ready for the sting this time she still jerked at the blow. She managed to keep her registering of the pain down to only a small grunt.
Twice more Brent struck her in quick succession. Her big bottom transferring the energy through her body in ripples of flesh. Poppy's nails bit into the skin of her palms as she bore the punishment.
Just when she was growing almost comfortable, anticipating the next smack, Brent surprised her. He brought the belt up to slap her pussy between her spread thighs. She squeaked and jumped, waiting for the agony. Only realizing afterward that he'd just given her a tap. Her cunt clenched deliciously. Despite herself, she giggled. He tapped her a few times more, seemingly able to land the leather right on her engorged clit at will. Poppy's backside jerked and wobbled, her pussy quivered on the edge of another climax.
Brent inspected the belt, shaking his head at the liquid sheen that now coated its surface. "Good God you are something else, Mom." He leaned closer to see the fine detail of his work. Her ass was now streaked a vibrant red. While he looked her over he knuckled the head of his cock through his trousers. When he caught her looking he arched his brows and asked, "Want to see what you do to me?" Poppy's tongue darted out unconsciously to wet her bottom lip. Brent chuckled and flicked open his button and fly. His pants and boxers slid down his thighs and his massive, painfully erect member sprang free.
"Ooh," Poppy let the sound escape her lips before she could stop herself. That was her son's cock she was admiring. And what a cock it was. Nothing like Charlie's which, even when pharmacologically enhanced, looked about as enticing as a strip of uncooked streaky bacon. Brent's was a thing of streamlined, uncircumcised beauty. A torpedo-shaped slab of meat with its targets set right on her dripping pussy. Poppy cooed softly to herself as she drank him in.
There was not an ounce of shame or embarrassment on his face as he encircled his girth with his hand and gave himself a long, slow stroke. Poppy's attention was drawn to the clear drop of precum which formed a pearl on his tip.
"You need this, don't you, mom?" She was staring at his cock and he was staring at the shadowed area below her flame-stung ass, where her pussy was radiating heat. When she met his eye her cheeks flushed with shame. She thought of offering a denial but knew that her need was written starkly on her face. "You took your punishment without complaint. In fact..." He shocked her again by brazenly sliding a finger through her slit. He didn't complete the sentence but chuckled at the droplets rolling down his hand. He sucked the moisture off his fingers, gorging on her taste and letting out a deep, "Mmm."
He shuffled forward a step and gripped the sides of her broad backside in his large hands. His dick settled into the valley between Poppy's ass cheeks. She sucked air in between her teeth at the contact of the soft skin of his cock with her bottom. "How long have you waited for a man to give you exactly what you need?" He asked, not expecting an answer.
"Too long," Poppy answered in her mind but did not voice it.
"Look at this ass. It's a work of art, mom," Brent ran his thumb along the line of one of his belt slashes. Poppy flinched, her skin still tender. The rekindling of the pain made her pussy flutter. Brent continued, "And I've just put my signature on it." He took his dick in his hand and slid it down between her thighs. Poppy cursed breathlessly when his tip kissed her slit. Her son dragged the hood of his cock through her sticky folds and back up to her asshole. She'd never exposed herself to a man like this before. He repeated the action, using his dick like an oversized paintbrush, basting her cunt with her own juices.
"This," he said through clenched teeth as he positioned his cock to dock with her contracted entrance. "Belongs," he shoved into her forcefully, piercing her clamped hole. "To me!" He ended with a grunt as he felt her soft tissue enfold him.
Despite his outward calm, Brent was a raging wolf internally. It was only through his astonishing willpower he kept that snarling beast on a leash. He'd never been this way about a woman before but his mother's overwhelming sexiness, combined with the power dynamic which was always shifting between them, drove him close to insanity.
Poppy let out an animal sound as her body strained to accommodate her son's inflexible thickness. Her pussy walls stretched thin and clung to his shaft. She felt every internal ridge being shoved aside like tumblers inside a lock as he slid home right up to her cervix. She'd never felt so full, so occupied.
His cock had certainly unlocked something deep inside her. She felt it as it was let loose. A swirling, twisting, darting warmth that poured into her veins. It moved through her like a forest fire, gradually growing to an inferno that roared in her mind and threatened to consume her entirely. She'd never known this feeling before. She might have zoned out into a blissful stupor if she'd not been jerked out of it by a stinging slap to her rear. Brent knew just where to land it, right across the threads of pain that had submerged and cooled in her skin. Immediately they were inflamed with the pain of the first blows that made them. The excess of stimulus forced her into a premature climax. It was short-lived but wonderfully acute. Her sheath tightened like a Chinese finger trap on her son's cock and rippled over it, stroking it with each convulsion. This was finally enough to break Brent's stoic facade and he let out a low groan at the pleasure.
Breasts swaying with each heaving breath, Poppy brought herself down from coming all over her son's dick. Brent considerately slid his shaft into her in long, smooth strokes that prolonged her tingling bliss. Delighting in the sensuality of their meshed bodies, Poppy spread her knees slightly wider, offering her son an even greater ease of access.
Charlie would have gone off already like a damp party popper, even before her climax. He'd probably be snoring away by now, leaving her feeling empty and unsatisfied. But Brent, wonderful Brent, was still rolling pin hard inside her and relentless in his deep thrusting. His dick scraped clean the lifetime's worth of disappointment that clung to her vaginal walls, leaving them feeling refreshed and raw to every sensation he was pumping into her.
He rode her until she was grunting incoherently. Then, as she began circling the drain of another climax, Brent smacked her again, this time on the other cheek. The effect of the flaring pain was immediate. Her pussy clenched and a second orgasm jolted through her like he'd connected her to a live wire. Brent cruelly pulled his dick all the way out until his plum-sized head stretched her entrance to its snapping point. He left a cavity behind it where her internal walls vacillated like sailcloth. Yet, this climax was even more powerful than the first. Her belly clenched, her internal muscles had not worked this hard in years. Ten minutes with Brent was worth an hour of pilates. She was just coming down from it when Brent punched his blunt tip back in through her rigidly locked tissues. Poppy cried out as her orgasm snapped back around and blasted her with a third muscle-jellifying spasm. Her son gripped her hips and held his dick as deep as it would go inside her as her internal muscles ground his length, her body juddering. Poppy whimpered as she weathered the pleasure storm.
This was too much. She was exhausted, splayed out on her couch and gasping for breath. Her stylish dress was just a red band around her middle. Brent did not let up though. She groaned piteously as he began the process all over again. Slowly fucking her slippery, muscular cunt with a dick that now felt swollen to bursting. Poppy marveled at her son's self-control. She'd never known a man who could maintain his composure for so long without slipping. His need to explode inside her must be excruciating.
When she glanced back she saw his face set in concentration. He was clearly under strain, but able to master himself. He even managed to give her a lopsided grin as he slammed into her again and again with indefatigable force.
"You're too much," He grunted between thrusts, "Your incredibly tight pussy, your perfect ass," he slapped her playfully on the behind for emphasis, nearly making her come again, "You're the fucking sexiest woman I know, Mom. Now," He reached around her and scooped up her pendulous tits. He squeezed them almost to the point of pain. He did not have to coax out her nipples again, they were already hard as pebbles. He held her breasts for leverage so that he could slam his hips into the cushion of her ass with everything he had. Her cries turned to animal grunts. No one had ever taken her body through its extremes like this before. She'd not know her limits extended this far.
He continued, "I'm going to make you remember who you can come to whenever you are feeling under-appreciated."
Brent was close now. There was no way he could hold back any longer. Poppy stuck out her ass as far as she could, finding herself desperate to feel him fill her up. "Yes, " She managed to pant out, "Yes! Come for me. Come for mommy. Come on baby."
Suddenly his large warm hands were gone from her tits. They returned to swinging dangerously, slapping against her body and the couch. She was about to moan out a complaint, her nipples ached to be crushed like grapes between his fingers, when she heard the smack. An instant later she felt the sting. Brent had smacked right across a belt lashing. She threw her head back as her pussy clenched.
Whack!
Brent struck her again, right on the same spot. Poppy cried out piteously. She was going to come again and without his seed inside her. She tried to hang on but Brent was riding her mercilessly to the finish. He began to rain down slaps on her quivering mound of ass flesh as he pounded into her. Each blow gave a mini climax of the magnitude of her first orgasm. But they were now happening one after the other in such rapid succession she felt it overloading her nervous system. Just when she thought she'd reached her peak another would arrive, building and boiling, until she was screaming out her ecstasy. Surely her mind would fuse under such an onslaught?
Brent, meanwhile, was plunging as deep in her pussy as he could, bouncing his glans off her trampolining cervix. Her convulsing pussy grew tighter and tighter as her rolling orgasms petrified her internal muscles. It felt like multiple strong, oily hands were grappling with each other to see who could grip his cock the tightest. At last, just as he bottomed out inside her, he felt a contraction crush his balls, disgorging their contents into his dilated urethra and firing out a fierce jet of white heat into his mother's body.
Poppy shrieked as the searing hot cum flooding her insides forced her body into the most perfect white flare of bliss she'd ever known. Every muscle in her body crystallized in an instant and she felt her blood vessels might burst under the pressure. Her heart stuttered and floundered in her chest and her voice trailed off into a silent scream.
Brent, uncorked, was pouring an endless stream of seed into her. It came out in thick spurts that rolled up from the base of his length and dragged out his protracted orgasm with each release. Even as the torrent tapered off he managed to pull his cock out of her gasping pussy with a wet slop and fire several more withering salvos across her ass cheeks.
The flesh there was still quivering with confused muscular contractions as Brent used his sperm as a salve on his mother's sore bottom. Then, when his cum began to work its way out of her like a faucet leaking wallpaper glue, Brent caught it on his semi-hard cock. Using this as a paintbrush, he meticulously glazed her entire backside with his spunk.
Poppy could only drape herself helplessly over the sofa, drooling from both ends. Never had she been so completely captivated in her life. It was like coming down from the most potent drug known to man. She could still feel the rubbery thickness of her son's cock rubbing against her ass cheeks. It felt incredible, the combination of residual sting and the cooling effect of his drying cum. Brent was a genius with his cock.
When he'd finished his masterpiece, Brent gave her a final slap on her right cheek with his dick. Even limp it was hung like a bell-rope with a knot in the end and made her exhausted body jerk convulsively one last time.
"Good girl," He repeated, smoothing her hair, which she realized when he touched it, had to be in a complete state. She could feel his eyes roaming over her naked, cum-glazed body but did not care. She welcomed it. She glowed all over with a pleasant warmth that sank through her skin, deep down into her bones. This, she now knew, was what it felt to be satisfied.
"Next time you'll listen sooner and maybe we can focus more on the carrot than the stick." He seized a hank of her dark hair at the back of her head and used it to turn her face. Her eyes were wet and bovine in her exhaustion. He planted a firm kiss on her lips. She did not have the energy or the will to protest. She felt warmth trickle down inside her, already beginning the process of filling the depleted tank of her libido. Brent's kiss was like no other. It was brutally direct but with tender notes that set the butterflies in her belly madly fluttering. She found her mouth opening, her tongue reaching out to entwine with his. She dissolved into him. When he abruptly broke the kiss she nearly toppled forward, a pathetic whimper escaping her throat. She looked away when she saw her son's knowing grin. Releasing her hair, he ran a thumb over her cheekbone before strolling out the room, lower half still bare, his pants and underwear folded neatly over his arm.
Poppy hugged the couch, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Her tingling nethers and ass stuck out and a trickle of cum was still dribbling down her inner thigh. She felt wonderful. She felt sated for the first time in her life.
The next morning Poppy awoke and stretched languidly after the best night's sleep of her life. Though her bottom had smarted when she'd finally managed to haul herself up and into a bath last night, this morning she barely felt the bruising. The tenderness she did feel only served as a welcome reminder of Brent's attentions. When she pulled up her nightie to look at her ass in the mirror she was mildly disappointed to see the marks he'd left were already almost imperceptible. Her boy was truly gifted.
She dressed carefully and arrived at breakfast to find Brent sitting across from Charlie. Brent's eyes immediately turned to her and followed her with blazing heat. Charlie did not even look up from his tablet as Poppy placed a hand on his thinning, gray hair and said, "You're home early."
Charlie shrugged and drawled, "I caught the red-eye. Just got in a few minutes ago and thought I'd join Brent for breakfast. It's so seldom that he chooses to grace us with his presence." There was remonstration in his voice, but Poppy and Brent both knew it was all show, with no substance to back it up.
Brent did not look away from Poppy. Despite her earlier composure, she was suddenly very self-conscious. Her form-fitting business suit felt like it was melting under his gaze. His eyes traveled down to her legs and when they landed there one of his thick eyebrows went up almost imperceptibly. So did one corner of his mouth. Poppy had to clutch the back of Charlie's chair to steady herself as heat pulsed through her pussy. Rapidly she settled into a chair at the table before her legs threatened to buckle.
"Lay off, dad," Brent said casually, waving a half-eaten slice of toast in the air, "You know I've been busy. But," a light danced in his eyes as he locked gazes with Poppy, "I think I might try and make it home a bit more often in the future. You know, spend a bit more time with you." From his expression Poppy had no doubt which "you" he was directing this at. She resisted the urge to clutch at her pounding heart.
"That'll be nice, won't it dear?" When the breathless Poppy failed to answer Charlie asked again: "Dear?" He finally glanced up from his device to give her a querying look. He looked over her outfit, from her tailored suit jacket to her hip-hugging skirt and, what had gained a reaction from even Brent's stony visage, a pair of sheer thigh-high stockings.
"Going somewhere?" Charlie managed after clearing his throat. His watery, gray eyes lingered on her legs. Poppy felt her calmness seeping back after the onslaught of Brent's undiluted charisma. She knew how to play this game.
Crossing and recrossing her legs, knowing neither of the men at the table would be able to look away, she answered coolly, "I have a brunch meeting with a new client today. He's only in town for the weekend, so I agreed to meet him this morning." She looked her husband dead in the eye and dared him to question her.
Charlie held her stare a moment and his creased mouth moved like he might say something. Then, as ever, he returned his gaze to his device and capitulated with a, "Fine, dear."
Poppy glared at Brent when she saw his barely restrained amusement. She added, "I should be back around lunchtime, do you want me to pick you something up?"
Charlie waved her away dismissively and replied, "Nah. I'm off to have a nap now, but then I've arranged to have lunch at the club with Albie and Ron." He turned to his son and asked, "What do you say, Brent? Are you up for a round this afternoon? Ron booked us a 3 o'clock tee-off and we have space for a fourth."
Brent said, "No thanks, dad. I've just realized I have something that needs my urgent attention this afternoon. Fortunately I reckon I won't have to go into the office, I can do it from here." He let his gaze sink slowly down until it rested on the provocative sheen of his mother's long, nylon-covered legs. "It's going to be a real pain in the ass, but it has to be done." As he spoke he let his hand come to rest on the buckle of his belt.
Charlie gave the pair of them a confused look as he heard the barest moan escape Poppy's lips. She reflexively placed her hands on her lower belly, attempting to soothe the squirming desire. Charlie shook his head and went back to what he was doing, missing entirely the heated looks that passed between his wife and son.
"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Poppy said, trying to downplay the sultriness threatening to take over her voice, "I'll be back by then. Perhaps I can help you."
"I'm sure you can," Brent's incisors flashed like a hungry carnivore's. Under the table she squeezed her thighs together and worried her husband might hear the squelch of her reawakening desire. She had to get up and leave. If she stayed any longer she'd soak through her skirt. What was Brent going to do to her when he found out she wasn't wearing any panties? She had to pause at the door and take a few deep breaths to calm down at that thought.
"See you later," she added breathily and left with the satisfaction of knowing Brent's eyes would follow her swaying backside all the way to the front hall. Yes, Poppy had been a good girl all her life. She really had earned the right to be just a little bad.