Chapter 20 - 19

The tightest mom ever hugged me in my entire life was the day I got accepted into Federal Way University.

That afternoon, under the anxious stares of my whole family, I ripped open the letter with the bright blue letterhead. Dad was looking a little green. Mom wasn't. Her eyes were glittering, the gentle brown of them now intense, only barely brighter than her freckles. They both leaned closer as I read the first line of the letter out loud.

The instant I reached the word, "accepted," mom squealed, jumped up, and ran into me with a tight and ecstatic hug, pressing herself against me.

Passionately tight.

And I mean, what mother wouldn't hug her son like that in a situation like this?

Federal Way University was the kind of school that only the cream of the crop of the region could get into, the kind of place that international students paid big bucks to attend, all so they could put that bold blue seal on their resume.

Any parent would be ecstatic.

My own parents even more so, since Federal Way University was only fifteen minutes away. It was almost as if mom and dad planned for me to go there.

Not that I minded.

Especially not now.

Mom's breasts were tight against me, rubbing against my head, the plushness and warmth of her body burying my face. When I said it was the tightest hug I've ever received from her, I wasn't exaggerating.

In that instant I was more acutely aware of the weight, the scent, the texture and shape of my mother's chest. I think some people would get a little weirded out by it, but honestly, it felt so wonderful and comfortable whenever she came and held me close to her tits. They were a soft, warm reminder that I was loved.

She was just affectionate like that.

Mom and dad bought me a new desk, gave me a speech about hard work, and then the term started with an all-out war against me by the faculty. While I know I deserved to get into Federal Way University, I did not realize that the workload was going to be so fucking insane.

It was almost as if the staff were trying to push the freshmen out. I can't tell you how many essays were due every single week. I can't tell you how many tests I had to take -- almost as if every split second was hacked away, every waking moment now a desperate struggle to breathe.

It was very literally the kind of place that must've been founded by a guy on cocaine -- nobody could keep up with the courseload, except for the committed (me), the kinds of students that cheated, and the ones with access to Adderall.

But I did my best, despite the fact that I didn't have access to any of those; not Addies, not helpful cheating buddies, or, you know, cocaine.

The first term wasn't too bad. Somehow, my grades were passing. The classrooms emptied out as a massive chunk of the freshman student body washed out. Cheaters found out quick that no essay writer they hired could keep up with the sheer amount of work the faculty demanded of us. They washed out too. After them, the people who relied on Adderall started to drop out, their bodies too exhausted to keep up with the mental drain.

Instead of failing out, I adjusted. I now spent fourteen hours a day on my school -- eight hours a day in classes, six hours a day in study and homework. Twelve hours on Saturday, twelve hours on Sunday. You know, so I could rest.

The first term ended.

I survived.

The second term was where it started to get a little hairy. The fourteen hours I was spending somehow wasn't enough anymore. It was to the point where I was very literally spending 16 hours a day in high intensity study or classwork, not including breaks, and not including times I was rushing from room to room on campus, trying to keep up with the lecture schedule.

It was a major saving grace that we lived so close by. I collapsed in my bed, exhausted in body and mind, every single night. I didn't have time for anything extraneous at all. I barely had time to eat, I barely had time to sleep, and it was everything I could do to pass.

A's were a distant dream. What I needed, more than anything, was just to pass. Even a transcript with the heading of Federal Way University meant gold to any possible employer.

All I had to do was survive.

Only the organized and the disciplined could make it out alive. That's how this kind of University operated. Only the people that could plan their entire lives, start to end, were going to make it. Life was now a rhythm of study, food, study, sleep, study, breaks, study, testing, studying, a five minute period that almost passed as a nap, and then more studying. I had my system completely down.

The only thing I was missing was jerking off.

And it was getting desperate.

When you're in the middle of a class on theory, it's damn near impossible to keep focused when you haven't jizzed in weeks, and the beautiful girl in front of you is wearing a thong, and it's just peeking out below the edge of her seat.

Words, ideas, those things didn't matter in those moments. The girl in front of me, Amanda, had a brilliant flow of blonde hair that went all the way down to the very edge of her little line of underwear, flossed through her cute, tan lined ass.

That beautiful little line between her tight cheeks mattered.

I couldn't believe the kind of luck, or unluckiness I had in that instant as she leaned over, stretching farther, her gorgeous ass just chewing on and swallowing up that delicious looking thing, sliding between her ass cheeks. It was even more amazing when she would turn around sometimes, her perfume drifting behind her with a light scent, and when she would ask me, her blue eyes shining, her bra peeking out from that itty-bitty little jacket she wore, and she would ask me, her wet lips dragging on her finger... if she could borrow my pen.

Yeah, my 'pen.'

So close.

This kind of scene played out continuously at school, where gorgeous girls were just as busy as I was. Way too busy to even try a coffee break with another person, much less a date. It was, in short, hell. Or maybe, purgatory.

Months went by. I barely managed a couple breaks where I could jerk off in one of the university bathrooms, or my own room if I had ten minutes. But as anyone my age knew, ten minute sessions every week or so weren't enough.

I was a timebomb.

Mom and dad didn't seem to notice my lack of jerking off, but they noticed that the stress was constant, and a definite tension and strain was growing. What kind of person my age could handle it? A few weeks of it would mess up some people, much less three or four terms per year. As I got more snappy, the internal heat and horniness overflowing, mom and dad started to change their attitude toward me.

One time I overheard dad trying to tell my mom that I needed some of the local white powder to boost me through, to help me get everything done, but faster. Mom was telling him that I needed therapy. Dad's response was hilarious.

"How the fuck is he supposed to do therapy if he doesn't even have time to sleep?"

You'd be lucky to have parents like mine. Dad was practical, no-nonsense, stable, and made sure I had money in my pocket and didn't have to work.

Mom was even better, she packed lunches, washed all my stuff, and made sure that my room was an absolute haven of studiousness. There was absolutely nothing I lacked in order to cover my basic needs, and our unspoken contract was that she'd do whatever it took as long as it meant that I passed my courses and secured my future.

If I wasn't suffering from a steadily growing, irrepressible, and unrelievable horniness every fucking day, I think I would've been a little bit more grateful. It even got to the point where I was having nocturnal emissions.

You know, wet dreams.

Dreams where I would envision Amanda, leaning over in her desk. Instead of begging for a pencil, she begged for my cock. She would get out of her chair, kneel before me, pull down that little itty-bitty jacket first, show off her dainty rosebud tits, and open her mouth, begging me to cover her light freckles with semen.

She'd suck me off, covering my shaft with drool, her mouth trying to make little requests for a pen while my cock impeded her words, her tongue swirling. And then she'd pull down her razor thin thong, the line of fabric barely wide enough to cover the line of her pussy, and she'd mount me while I sat on my desk, she'd ride me, the juicy sound of her tightness mixing with moans, begging me to fill her, until --

Like clockwork, my alarm would go off, right before I could finish. Every once in a while, the sound ruined an orgasm, shutting everything down before my poor balls could completely empty themselves, and I'd go through another miserable, blue-balled week.

That's what happened one morning. I was dreaming of Amanda, spreading her tight ass in front of me, bent over my professor's desk, her gorgeously dusky, tight little asshole on display, as she waited for me to push inside her, as her freckles glittered all over her face. Right as I finally penetrated her in the dream, as my cock pulled the cute pink rim of her asshole in and out, and her sultry, high voice told me that my 'pen' was the best, her struggling gasps eliciting an insane, tight strain up my taint, and right as I was about to cum deep inside her perfect little asshole, the alarm blared through.

The dream obliterated into the noise of my phone as I launched myself awake, my cock dripping cum, with my orgasm incomplete, my balls aching. The jizz fucked up my boxers, dripped all over my sheets, leaving a trail of white spots, rapidly darkening as they soaked into my bed.

And fuck, my balls hurt.

After changing, I went to the kitchen to get coffee so I could get right back to studying, even though I wanted to kill myself.

I passed mom in the hall. I didn't realize she was heading to my room to preemptively change everything.

I guess she must've found the sheets.

As I came back, feeling more foul than ever, coffee in hand, she came out holding the sheets, with a shocked and horrified look on her pretty freckled face as she looked at the sheer amount of semen I had spilled all over them.

"Son," she said, her voice a little high, her voice strained, her gaze on the slick spot where her son's cum had pooled just minutes ago, "you really need to learn to use tissues."

Now, I'm not proud of what I said back.

When you've barely slept after weeks of stress, and you've been jerked awake right at the best part of a sexy dream, balls deep inside a girl like Amanda, and your first few minutes of waking life were spent trying to summon the ever-decreasing desire to get back to studying like a good little idiot, and the coffee was gross because you made it yourself instead of asking mom, and you get confronted by her because you left semen all over the sheets as if you were too horny to use a tissue, and now you're embarrassed because she thinks you just cum where you sleep like an animal, then it's almost understandable to be agitated.

But it wasn't okay to yell.

Especially at my mom.

I didn't just yell at her. I said other dumb shit too. I told her to stay out of my business, I told her she needed to respect my fucking privacy, I yelled that I was going fucking insane from how hard school was, and that I was fucking sorry for jizzing all over her precious sheets but it wasn't my fucking fault, and sorry I had a stupid fucking wet dream.

I know for a fact that I deserved a slap to the face. Maybe I would have felt better if she had.

Instead, mom's pretty brown eyes started to water, her open mouthed shock turned into a frown, and then a frustrated, embarrassed little cry. She turned around and left before she actually started really, really crying since her son was such a fucking insensitive, ungrateful, scary asshole.

I really hated to see her cry. Especially as the reality sank in.

Mom was trying her own best to make sure that I was doing well. She was even going so far as to dip in and out of my room to clean so I got to enjoy some order and tidiness while I fought for the most important degree of my life.

I really didn't blame her for making some kind of comment about jizzing in the sheets either.

It would have been insanely disrespectful to consciously do that, because she did all my laundry. Maybe if I wasn't such a frustrated, horny little fuck, I would've just swallowed the embarrassment and said 'sorry, I just had a wet dream. Let me put those in the washer mom, you don't have to handle that kind of stuff.'

It all made sense, right after I made her cry.

I bit the bullet and took the time to apologize. Mom was sitting on her bed while I stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying to explain that I was sorry, that the way I acted was unacceptable, and that I was going to try harder to be more respectful from now on. Mom leaned back and patiently listened, nodding, her hands spread across her bed as her legs were crossed under her sundress. After a few minutes, she nodded, smiled, her freckles dappling across her face. "I forgive you, hun," she said, softly. "I know you're going through a lot right now."

Now, it's not like mom was the town beauty or anything, but I definitely think that in this instance, she was stunning. It's amazing what kindness and forgiveness can do for a guy. It just added a whole new dimension of beauty to her, brightening the freckles that ran across her nose and cheeks.

After what she said, we looked at each other for a couple minutes. It was a sweet and soul-easing relief to just be with her, to appreciate the way she looked. She was curvy, her legs so beautiful. The sun dress and the way she crossed her legs made her so, I don't know, feminine and vulnerable. She seemed so... sweet.

I guess it was a little weird to think of my own mom in all those ways, but in all fairness, I was having a moment. It just felt great to know my mother cared.

After a bit, mom came close, held me tight, pressed me against her gorgeous and abundant chest, and whispered in my ear that she understood. "I know it's a lot of stress, baby. It's hard, but I need you to do a little better from now on, okay?"

I nodded and made a firm promise to myself that I was going to make her proud.

What followed was a few days of normalcy. Or as normal as it could get with the schedule like mine. Still didn't get a chance to jerk off, and I still definitely didn't get a chance to even breathe, but if there was one thing I knew, it was that mom was on my side.

---

A nightmare happened a couple days after that.

My laptop, which I relied on as if it were a flotation device, suddenly died. I don't know if it was because I was running with it into the walls in order to get to class on time, or if it was because I accidentally spilled water, or coffee, or tea on it, or if it froze because I didn't thank it personally every time it helped me pass an assignment.

It was dead, and I had a major assignment due in three hours.

There were only a few other computers in the house. Dad had his own in his office, and mom had a tablet that she liked to use for social media. Since dad took the laptop with him to work, I decided I'd make it work with my mom's tablet. Luckily, it was still in the living room on the coffee table. I sighed with relief as I opened it up, trying to remember all of the logins I had to go through.

When I opened it, I noticed that mom had left her internet app open.

I didn't mean to read it -- I wasn't the type to go snooping around people's search history, and besides, her privacy was really important to me. Despite that, I immediately noticed the header of the blog.

Sex Society.

And the blog went over a very interesting topic and title that I had no idea mom would let herself linger on. I started reading, my curiosity too much to stop.

Japanese sexual study method?

Academic competition is insanely fierce on the island nation of Japan. It's the kind of place where status is determined by the school you go to, the placement you have within that school, and the connections built there. Is the kind of rigorous academic system that requires absolute devotion from its attendees in order to make it work. Unfortunately, Japanese males have a harder time than Japanese females, as their hormones tend to drive them to distraction, decreasing their ability to function in an increasingly competitive environment.

But within the last few generations, Japanese mothers have found a way to overcome their son's struggles at school, and set them up for incredible success.

Anonymous women by the dozens have written to us explicitly about this rarely shared secret within the study rooms (and bedrooms) of their sons.

From Hitomi Tanaka (name changed to protect identity):

"When my sons placement in school started dropping, I knew I had to do something drastic. Maybe it was wrong of me. But frankly I don't care -- my son's success and happiness are so important to me.

It took a little convincing, but I convinced him to let me sexually, you know, take care of his needs. I masturbate him. Whenever he needs it, which is often, whenever he's feeling stressed, or whenever he asks it of me. It's not the kind of thing that takes long, but I know he appreciates it. 15 minutes of his pleasure translates into hours of study and focus.

Even though my hands and mouth have gotten a little tired, he's doing much better than ever before. It feels good to know my son is excelling now with my help.

I have even started to enjoy the taste."

My jaw dropped in disbelief, not really understanding what I was reading. Or was I just refusing to understand it? Was this blog about a mother that was blowing her son to help him study better? Did I really read right that dozens of women wrote in about it? What did that say about how many mothers were doing it without writing in anonymously?

I knew that Japanese school system was tough. But I didn't know it was that tough.

Then it struck me that my mom was reading this. Was she crazy? How could a mom even consider doing something like this with her son? Did she really think the situation was that dire?

Did she really think I was losing it?

She knew my future rode on my ability to graduate this school, and she knew that I was going through a hell of a lot, and that my ability to even act civilly was breaking down. But I didn't think that she would go looking into results this extreme. Why couldn't she have looked up where to get Adderall? What kind of curiosity could emerge in a woman where she'd get through a blog post like that about masturbating her adult son?

I heard mom clear her throat.

I jumped and noticed her staring at me from the edge of the room. Not sternly, but nervously. She was looking at the screen of her tablet, looking at me, realizing that I had read exactly what she'd been reading. We kind of sat there for a minute, staring at each other.

"My computer died," I stammered, "and I really need to finish this assignment." I tried to speak with a little bit more steadiness, as if somehow, I could play this off and that I could pretend that I hadn't read it, and that way mom could be spared the weird embarrassment of reading about jerking off her own son in order to help him succeed.

But my tone wasn't as certain as I wanted it. And then there was silence as mom couldn't muster up a response to what was obviously a coverup.

"Well," mom said finally, her voice high, "just let me know when you're done." She turned around and left the room, while I sat there with the tablet, trying to not let my mind go numb and blank with shock and awkwardness.

And processing.

My brain feverishly worked out the insane details of what mom was thinking about. It was crazy. It was wrong. It was completely taboo and the kind of stuff that you only ever heard somebody whisper once as a rumor you didn't believe and never heard about again for the rest of your life.

But would it work?

Some little recess of my mind said it could. I suddenly imagined mom, sitting beside me on the couch -- instead of stroking my hair, or patting my thigh, her hand was wrapped around my cock. My mother's freckled face descended from a kiss, soft, smiling, pleased that her little boy was erect, until she bent all the way down and took my length fully into her hot, wet mouth, as she--

Wait.

What the fuck.

There must be something that happens to a guy's mind when he hasn't cum in ages. A little bit of insanity that's locked away, only staved off every time he's able to sit down and jerk off. The crazy part is the section of the brain that wants to fuck at all costs, no matter what kind of hole is before them. But I guess that little crazy part of me was breaking through, getting stronger, becoming a beast that demanded satisfaction, that demanded a woman's touch, demanded a hole to cum inside.

Between the wet dream, yelling at my mom, the insane ideas mom was thinking about, the weird practical reality that if I was to cum more often, that maybe I could focus better, all of it mixed together in an insane little understanding that the beast in my head ravenously ate up.

I needed to cum.

And my mom could help.

I felt dizzy.

I got up and went to the bathroom and tried to calm down. But the insane movement in my head brought forward the image of my mom, my actual mom, not Amanda, or any of the other innumerable girls University, but instead I thought about my beautiful, curvy mother, kneeling in front of me, jerking me off, her red, wet tongue out as she begged me to fill her mouth with my seed.

The fantasy grew. It took over.

I pulled out my cock and closed my eyes, masturbating over the sink, slipping immediately into the imagery. I couldn't stop -- I wouldn't stop. I was pent up, bursting, the precum already dotting the head of my cock.

In my head, I saw my mom delightfully submitting to me; sitting on the edge of my bed, she licked my cock, pulled down her shirt to reveal ample, lovely curves; tits that were more womanly than the girls that were at my university. My mom was a real woman, curves, freckles, soft brown eyes and all, and I only imagined her in that instant as a woman, begging me to come in her mouth, desperately jerking me off, telling me that I was a good son and that she was so proud of me, the kind of stuff that was so fucking insane when paired with the pleasure of a woman begging you to fill her mouth with semen.

All I could see in my minds eye was my mom's glistening tongue, and the freckles that glittered across her face, freckles prettier than Amanda's. I could see as she spread her legs as she sat on my bed, revealed all the delicious white skin of her thighs, of her waist, the color between her legs a mix of maroon. And pink.

I could see her as she jerked me harder, begging me to cover her, to give her what I was saving, and as the insanity of the incest started screaming in my head, I felt myself rocking with the tight strain of building orgasm --

And I came, with the kind of force that would've roped slick, hot the lines of semen all across my mother's freckles. The image was still there in my head as I shuddered, feeling myself pumping still, imagining that she would congratulate me, tell me I was doing so great, and that I was such a good boy, and she was so glad that her son could cum for her, all over her mouth like a good boy.

The image faded. My eyes opened. Semen was all over the bathroom counter. My knees were weak, and I was shaking.

I had officially cracked.

I just came to the thought of my own mom, the thought of her jerking me off, trying to help me with my studies. I just sprayed my semen all over the bathroom to the thought of my real mother, to the idea of cumming all of her freckles, her face, of unloading myself pleasurably all over her. If that wasn't fucking insane, and a symptom of how desperate my situation was, I didn't know what was.

I cleaned up and left the bathroom, went straight to my room, and passed out completely. That simple act of expending myself reset my system -- I woke up after a few hours, refreshed, alert.

If it wasn't so weird, the next few hours were... incredible.

Even better, my laptop was working again. I was able to log in, beg for a deadline extension, then completely slammed out my work just before the original due time.

My mind felt razor-sharp. My body had this sense of deep relief.

By the end of the evening, not only had I finished up all of my due work, but I also got ahead, prepared notes and flashcards, and read into a few chapters before the lecture would even happen tomorrow. It was like something made my work a million times more efficient.

I didn't really want to attribute this to my orgasm. Because maybe, it was just the fact that my laptop turned back on. Maybe it was my nap. Maybe the desperation of being late drove me to a new level of efficiency. It could've been any of those things.

It couldn't have been the orgasm.

It definitely wasn't the thought of my beautiful, loving mom, and the idea that she would willingly jerk off her own son.

Not the idea that she loved me so much that she would do anything, including service me sexually if she thought it was necessary.

It couldn't have been.

Chapter 2

The next day passed in quiet bliss.

I was able the make my notes sing, I passed a couple of practice exams, and the lectures made sense on their first listen. I didn't even have to compare notes with anyone. It was the kind of situation where I was in the absolute zone. Nothing could stop me -- it was better than the time that I snuck an Adderall into high school.

I went home, and ate dinner. Miraculously, life actually seemed normal, as if mom hadn't been looking at anything weird on the internet, as if I hadn't jerked off to the thought of her begging for her son's semen all over her face.

It was so normal that I was starting to wonder if maybe yesterday afternoon was just a stress induced fever dream.

Dinner was great, conversation was brief, and like clockwork, mom cleared away my place right as I got up to get back to studying. She gave me a little kiss on the cheek as I moved away, and I decided that whatever I thought I saw yesterday was probably an awkward fluke that would be better off forgotten.

But despite how well that day went, the next day was different.

It wasn't the same kind of blissful zone that I was the day before. During my first lecture of the day, while I tried taking careful notes, I kept noticing the girls in the row in front of me, their hair, the perfume, and the nearly bare side of the tomboy redhead that sat to my right, the way that she leaned way down toward me after dropping a pencil, exposing several inches of smooth, soft, milky chest as her shirt hung lower, and lower.

It was terrific, and horrific.

I kept having to take my gaze away from her and to refocus, get back into the zone, to try and collect enough context to understand exactly what the professor was explaining. It was so bad that after the lecture, I had to go to the TA and ask for a transcription.

The rest the day went no better. One of my study groups had this incredible looking girl with silky brown hair, dark eyes, a kind of Middle Eastern look. She spoke with this gorgeous accent, and combined with her dark lips and long lashes I kept sidelining my work and falling into the fantasy of her lips wrapping around my cock, of her lashes winking at me as she would go down my shaft. What made the fantasies even more vivid were her pants, they were loose, luxuriously styled, and very thin.

Whenever the light was coming from the right direction, I could see her legs, almost in their entirety. There almost translucent so that not only can I see the fine details of her slender thighs, I could also notice the color of her almond hued skin. I found myself studying her body way more intently than I should have been listening to the lecture.

Then I heard my name.

I looked up. The professor stood at the front of the class, stylus in hand, waiting on me before writing something down on the display screen. He was staring at me.

So was half the class.

Then the middle eastern girl turned around, her lashes batting.

The professor had asked me a question. One I couldn't hear as I desperately clawed out of the sheer depth of the fantasy. The class ended shortly after that, and I got a stern lecture from the teacher, then went home, the day on campus over.

I pulled into our driveway, slammed the front door open, stormed to my room, furious, agitated, and feeling like I was going crazy.

What the hell happened today? Why wasn't it like yesterday? I couldn't believe I went from being ahead of the curve to devolving into an idiot because a pretty girl sat in front of me. I wouldn't have been surprised if I was drooling.

When I came out of my room after a while, trying to piece together the nonsensical notes that I took during the lecture, I found mom in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. She had a glass of water already for me.

"Hey," she said, handing me the glass and tilting her head to the side. "Are you okay? You don't look like you're feeling too good. Something happen?"

"I just got distracted during class," I said, trying to unhear the stern talk I got from the professor afterward.

Mom nodded slowly, reading me. "Distracted?" The way she asked was as if she had some kind of answer ready for me. Something she didn't want to share, just yet, but was making sure it was going to work. I remembered that blog she was on, the one with the Japanese mothers sexually servicing their sons and then shook that memory out of my head too. Obviously, I was overthinking it.

I finished my water. "Oh, don't worry about me." I started to leave but my conscience prompted me to try and make up for yelling at her the other day. "Hey," I said, turning back. Mom was still patiently leaning against the counter, observing me. "I don't want you to worry about me, okay? I'm doing great. And I really appreciate all the help." As I spoke, mom's gaze was steady. She took in everything I said with a measuring look, as if she were trying to tell if I was lying about doing well.

Which I was.

Right as it got to the point where I knew she could tell I was lying, she suddenly smiled at me. She looked at me with the most motherly gaze, a mixture of love and care. It was a surreal moment, lending her this incredible beauty that warmed my heart as each second passed with that gorgeous smile.

It made me feel like one of the luckiest guys in the world. Honestly, who else had a mom like her?

Eventually, she passed me an apple and refilled my water, and then shooed me away to my room.

As I crossed the hall toward my end of the house, I noticed there was a package under our mail slot. I went over to it and tore it open out of sheer habit.

The book cover was a stark black. I could barely see the faintly embossed title, barely visible through the dark ink of the cover. Clearly it was designed to be read stealthily, the only exception to that a little line of white words at the bottom saying that all individuals photographed within this book were over the age of eighteen. I couldn't find an author's name.

I went back to the title to make sure I was reading it correctly, and I could feel my heart beat faster as I realized what I was looking at.

Anything For My Son,

The Japanese manual on managing your sons hormonal difficulties and unlocking his potential for academic success.

My jaw dropped as I read that, over and over, trying to understand if what I was looking at was even real, or if somehow I was in a bad dream again.

Hormonal difficulties? That meant something very specific.

Very, very specific.

It blew my mind that mom actually bought this book.

How the hell could mom actually get into something like this? It had to be a hoax -- and even if it was some kind of perverse, hidden facet of Japanese culture, there was no fucking way that my mom, of all people, would actually buy this book. Reading a blog, being mildly entertained by it, all of that could be attributed to morbid curiosity. Shock value. But to spend money? To bring a book like this here?

To our house?

But here was. My mom had actually bought the book. I started to flip through it in the hall, hoping mom wouldn't catch me with it.

The dense pages were full of interviews, photographs of voluptuous nude bodies with lean young men alongside them, illustrated diagrams and how to's...

"Honey," mom called from the kitchen. Her voice sounded almost a little nervous. "Did we get any mail today?"

I closed the book and stared at the torn open box on the floor. I had to get rid of this thing. I had to hide it, wrapping and all. Or she'd know I saw the book.

And maybe, if I hid this thing, then she'd give up and let go of all these crazy ideas.

"Nope," I yelled back.

I stuffed the book and the box under my shirt, put the rest of the mail on the entry table, and sprinted to my room. I locked the door and then collapsed, my back to it.

Now that I was in actual privacy, I had a minute to really process this. What the fuck was mom thinking?

The book was in my hands. I was trembling.

I could've almost excused even what I had done the other day. By that, I mean jerking off to the idea of my mom doing this kind of stuff. I was a guy. I was crazy horny. Anyone in my position is liable to jerk off about anything, sometimes it's just impossible to avoid but...

...but the way that this book felt in my hands, the realization that my mom was actually studying it, or planning to, sent a weird jolt of something going through my groin. Something below my waist. My cock rose with the thought of my mom reading this, entertaining its ideas, thinking about it, strategizing the best way to sexually satisfy me in order to help me along with my school.

I had to know what this book said. I had to know what was in it. As I opened to a random page, I wondered if somehow, my grades could stand could withstand the inevitable drop even a couple hours reading this thing would entail.

Oral Fixation

"There will come a point in your new method of taking care of your son, where he will ask you to pleasure him orally. This is not a light matter; it should be taken very seriously. Women who have never given blow jobs need to learn according to the following pages, in order to ensure that their sons are fully satisfied, as a bad blow job will inevitably frustrate your son, and damage his ability to concentrate if you are unable to make him orgasm."

I looked up from the book, shocked, and tried to keep my composure. It was more in depth than I thought. I flipped it open to another page.

This time it was a photograph. A mother knelt under a desk, her face buried in her son's lap. A closer look showed the truth -- I could see her lips wrapped around his penis, her eyes closed as she savored the taste and as she bobbed her head over it, while he leaned over his desk, intent on his school work.

The way that those people looked in the photograph made my heart race.

The mother certainly look like she was enjoying herself. Her son, on the other hand, looked razor focused on his work.

It blew my mind just to know that this was even somehow legal. Or was it? I thought that this kind of material was banned internationally. Judging by the package there was no fucking way she got it from Amazon. I pulled out the torn box and looked at it. The return address was a fake -- 123 Nowhere Lane, New York, New York.

This had to have been illegal somehow.

The next few days, I noticed mom being really particular about the mail. She seemed nervous about it, sifting through the letters a few times to make sure that she actually received everything, checking her email, checking and double checking the post office website, making calls to determine whether a package showed up. Even while studying, I could overhear her asking the mail person, a few times, if she was sure that packages got delivered according to the correct address.

I didn't want to tell her that I was the one that stole it, but honestly, this was my best shot at getting her to drop the whole crazy idea.

At dinner the next day I pretended that I read a local news segment about package theft. That seemed to calm mom down. For a few blissful days, she was finally at peace about it. Maybe she could take it as a sign from the universe that she wasn't supposed to have that book, that maybe, she could drop the whole idea altogether.

But I guess my attitude was proving that wrong. I was getting extra snappy at home, the combined strain of multiple midterms all ratcheting up for me all at once.

I was studying even harder, moving even faster, cramming my head with every possible drop of knowledge that my textbooks could supply. And on the home front, mom and dad learned to stay the hell out of my way. If I was unpleasant before thanks to the amount of schoolwork and how little sleep I was getting, then now, I was a mess. There was also an insane horny tidal wave that was reaching up and drowning me every time I passed a pretty perfumed girl. I couldn't focus. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't study.

How the hell was that guy supposed to survive this kind of environment? How did anyone ever graduate this fucking place?

It was the day before midterms. I woke up at 5:30, not even thanks to my alarm clock, which was supposed to go off at six. I woke up due to my heart racing, beating out of my chest, with the insane and painful sensation of my cock pressing against the wrong angle of my boxers. I was wrecked, insanely horny, stressed as fuck, and what was worse, I knew I had about 24 hours worth of cramming to do, not counting breaks and sleep, if I was to have any hope of passing these midterms.

It was the kind of hopeless situation that I knew I had to pull stops for, so I did. I locked my door, and buckled down. Hours went by, I used every possible tool my disposal. Instant coffee, herbal supplements, Pomodoro study timing, along with the page of notes that I lifted from 'a friend' on the internet. I was on a roll.

Except for this fucking hard on. It wasn't just that it was sticking out, aching, as my thoughts kept turning, and turning, and turning, all I could see in my minds eye was a teacher's assistant of my midmorning lectures, the one with glasses who would wear plaid skirts, loose sweaters, no bras, and who leaned over way too far every time she would help somebody with the question.

One time, I caught a glimpse of her leaning so far, the loose sweater dropping so low, that I could very literally see her breasts, light, small, like unopened flower buds, tipped with dusky pink.

Her nipples were delicious looking, puffy, the kind I just wanted to suck on like crazy, and between my notes on 100 different theories and dozens of ideas and perspectives, and combinations of perspectives, all I could think about was the color, shape, and imagined taste of those nipples. I imagined they'd taste like milk, with a little bit of honey mixed in.

I was going fucking insane. There was no way I was going to pass any of these tests.

After going through the same question three times, not even understanding what the hell I was doing, I threw in the towel.

I got up, stormed over to the kitchen. I was moving so fast, so blind with rage and insatiable horniess, that I didn't realize that mom was also walking into the kitchen from her side of the house, her nose deep in a book, and in that instant we ran into each other, hard, my hard on jamming against the fabric of her dress, into her soft flat tummy, sending pleasurable sparks up my shaft and pelvis, her voice making a little yelp of surprise, and both of us tumbled down to the kitchen floor.

situation impeding my ability to think or respond.

Mom continued, "I also want you to know, what I did the other day for you, it's not all I can do. I know boys have all kinds of needs." Her eyes blinked slowly at me. "Whatever you need, mommy's willing to do it. Whether you want me to use my hands, maybe my mouth," she gave a broader, generous smile, her beautiful, round lips an elegant maroon.

"Or maybe," she said, her volume lowering, "if you need a little more," her hands traced along her legs and up, touching lightly at the edge of her dress as it drew up, inch by inch. "I can--"

I turned around, in my desk, facing my work again, trying to hide the insanely powerful hard on that threatened to break through my pants. "I've really got to study now," I said, trying not to keep from shaking with desire.

I felt aroused. Maybe a little scared. Completely mind fucked, and totally incapable of accepting what my mother said. What she implied.

The only thing her hands pulling at the edge of her skirt could have implied.

I heard mom stand behind me, the soft swish of her dress making a pleasant breezy sound as I imagined it settling around her thighs. "Well," she said, not even sounding surprised, "if you change your mind, I'm open to whatever you need. Just say it, alright? You know I'm here for you."

The door closed. The stunning heat in my face was unreal as I thought about my mom, letting me know that any time, I could use her hands, her mouth, and whatever was under her dress.

The imagery swirled around my head, inconsistent with the person I thought my mom was. She offered herself as Free Use, just like the book said.

I almost didn't believe it. My mind feverishly processed it.

Maybe, just maybe, that other day was a dream. Maybe I had fallen asleep at my desk, and dreamed that my mom jerked me off the kitchen floor. Maybe it was just a dream that was induced by a prank of a book and by the stress I was going through. Maybe mom had just been playing a sick prank on me. It wasn't like her, but there was a faint chance.

Maybe it was time to test her out.

Maybe it is time to see if she was just playing a prank on me. If maybe my mom was actually a normal person, and all of this was a confusing, stressful delusion brought on by the insane workload at school. I pinched myself, checking to see if I was awake.

I must have been. It hurt.

I went to the kitchen, my cock pressing through one of the legs of my pants. Mom was washing dishes until she heard me. She turned around, looked me up and down, saw the hard on pressing through my pants, then her eyes moved up to my face.

She measured the tension with that familiar, motherly instinct that made it possible for her to assess whether or not I was lying, whether I was happy, upset, what my exact intentions were towards cookies on the counter. In this case, she looked at me, then my cock, and then gave a pleasant smile. "Hey hon," she asked. "You need anything right now?"

This was it.

I was about to find out if mom was being real with me.

I was also about to find out if I was fucking crazy.

I was also about to do something that was either going to make mom laugh at me, or make her shout and tell me that she was just joking. It was about to be a sick and stupid story that she could tell at family reunions, or at my eulogy after I died of embarassment. I summoned my courage, as mom waited for me to respond.

My hands moved to my crotch, they undid my button, unzipped my pants, and I pulled my cock out, right in the middle of the kitchen, right in front of my own mother.

Mom shifted. This was it. She was about to laugh at me, she was about to scream, she was about to tell me that I was an idiot, or that I needed a nap, or that what I was doing was entirely unacceptable.

But her eyes went to the head of my penis, down my shaft.

My mother smiled warmly. "And what would you like me to do with that, hon?"

My mouth felt dry. But the words came out.

"I need you to get on your knees," I said, slowly. "And I need you to suck it."

Her smile grew broader, and she nodded with that same understanding look that she always gave whenever I needed anything in life.

In slow motion, my mother set the dishes down, washed her hands, the soap moving gently over her smooth, dainty fingers. She dried off her hands on the towel, and stepped over to me. Her perfume gave of the soft scent of citrus and lavender. Gently, she went to her knees, her bare legs touching the floor, and her hands went up, pressing along my thighs, moving up, one hand suddenly cradling my shaft, the other one smoothing back her soft, brown hair.

I couldn't believe this was happening.

Mom got closer, her eyes looked up, her pretty brown eyes glittering with her freckles, as she stared up at me, her beautiful mouth opening up, her pink tongue sticking out, and then I felt it -- I felt hot and wet tongue going up my shaft, I felt it swirling up and over my head, I felt her breath on my cock.

Wordlessly, I stood there, in absolute awe. Observing, not believing, that my mother was blowing her son in the kitchen, tasting him, that this was all real and not some kind of ridiculous dream. After a few seconds, of mom licking up and down my shaft, one of her hands gently massaging me and sending pulses of pleasure through me, she opened her mouth completely, her lips and tongue coated with spit, then slowly, inch by inch she took me into her mouth, the explosive and wet and creamy sensation of her mouth engulfing me.

I couldn't even hold in my breath.

I felt myself groaning as mom suddenly started moving her head up and down over my shaft, her tongue massaging the little spot just underneath the head of my cock, and I heard her, making soft little moans as she tasted me, sucked on me. Mom bobbed on my shaft, faster, the slick wet feeling following her mouth as she sucked, slurping on me, her eyes sometimes looking up, beautiful and dainty dots of her freckles sparkling underneath me.

Her hand started to move more vigorously. She was milking me, eliciting groans from me and making me shudder as I knew I leaked little drops of precum. My cock really was in my mother's mouth, her tongue really was pressing below my head, she really was swallowing her spit mixed with the first couple drops of her son's cum.

She just closed her eyes, made a little moan as if she was just tasting frosting on the cake.

The slurping noise of her mouth echoed through the kitchen. I felt it building. I felt the growing, hot pressure, sensation and tension ratcheting upward in my core, up through my taint. Mom could tell. She could see it in me, and suddenly I felt it, her mouth sucking harder, her hand moving over my shaft faster and faster, trying to bring it out of me as fast as she could, trying to pull it forward, trying to make me cum, and suddenly, the tension snapped.

It felt like a gunshot, shooting up, and mom suddenly started making little surprised noises, her eyes wide, as I flooded her mouth with my semen.

I felt my balls pulsing, emptying themselves, draining every last drop into mom's mouth, until finally, gasping, I pulled back. Jizz spilled out of her mouth, dripping down her chin. Her hands went up quickly to wipe it from her face.

She looked up at me, smiling, the white fluid dripping onto her hands, some of it going down her neck. Then my mom swallowed, taking the cum that remained in her mouth into her throat. She stood and made it to the paper towels, where she carefully wiped it from her face and mouth. As if she were just daintily wiping her mouth after dinner.

While I stood, my knees still shaking, right in the middle of the kitchen, mom went to the fridge and got some juice, cleaning the taste of my cum from her mouth. After a few seconds, mom turned to me and looked at me is as if questioning why I was still standing there. "Aren't you going to get back to your studying?"

"I don't understand," I said, struggling to speak in the mix of afterglow and confusion. "Mom, this is insane."

Mom shrugged. "Honey, it's academics, pure and simple. Nothing so far has been able to get you back into your school work as quickly as this. It's well-documented, as I'm sure you already know from reading my first copy of that book." She sighed, and looked at me a little bit of concern. "I wish you didn't take it. I could've started a lot sooner. What were you thinking?"

"I just thought maybe you'd give up after I took it," I said, working through it. "I didn't know you'd go this far to help me."

Mom shook her head at me. "Hun, you know better than that. Can you tell me a time where I've given up on helping you out?"

In all seriousness, I couldn't think of a single time.

"I'm just glad you have it," mom continued. "I was worried that maybe a neighbor had picked it up. That would've been embarrassing," she said, laughing. Her freckles were dancing the light from the kitchen window.

A question arose in me, a difficult one. I really wasn't sure what anybody would think of it if their own son coming and his wife's mouth. I had to know. "Does dad approve of this? Does he even know about it?"

Now mom looked slightly uncomfortable, almost for the first time. She started drumming her fingers on her ample thighs. "Let's just say what he doesn't know about, won't hurt him." She spoke with a mixture of certainty and uncertainty. "What matters to your father is that you graduate and that you graduate happily. If you're able to get your degree, and not have an absolute mental breakdown, he will chalk that up as one of the proudest possible things in his life. I won't deny him that."

"At the same time," she looked at me, making a very serious insinuation just with her facial expression that I had to be careful. "Obviously, no man would be happy sharing his wife with another person. Regardless of the circumstances, whether you're his son or not. So," she leaned over and patted me on the thigh. "We're not going to say anything, alright?"

What options did I honestly have? I wasn't about to make this a dinnertime topic.

During dinner, we ate in stifling silence. Dad seemed normal as ever, mom and I kept sharing little glances. Dad looked up from his phone every once in a while, as if it were a comically large newspaper that obscured his vision. "Great food hun," dad said. He looked at me. "All right son? You look like school is taking a toll on you. Is there something you're worried about?"

I shook my head, and tried to come up with something. "There's just a lot to think about. I've got it."

Dad nodded, proud, and went back to his phone, hiding his face behind it as if it were the Sunday Times.

I finished eating, went to my room, anxious to get started on my papers again. The time deadline was still there. While the boost I got after cumming in my mom's mouth made progress easier, all I could see was the word count climbing way too slowly. And after a couple hours of intense work, I realized I was hardly any farther. My mind was getting foggy. I remembered that any kind of vigorous activity would help me out. So I got up, did some jumping jacks, and tried again. It wasn't enough.

I grabbed some coffee from the kitchen, moved past mom, who checked my facial expression to see if I "needed anything", then dashed back into my room in order to make sure I got back to it. It was getting late.

I started thinking about the way my mom's mouth felt, the way that she expertly used her saliva to make the most insanely lubricated, blissful suction I figured I could ever possibly receive on my cock. A far cry from the way getting together with seniors under the bleachers at high school felt.

The outlines, notes, sentences started fading, and all I could see was the beautiful, smooth, full lips of my mother, wrapping around the head of my cock, sucking, semen spilling from her lips, dripping from her chin. I slapped myself, did jumping jacks. It was no use.

It felt weird to think it, but I needed her.

I went out to the living room, where mom was reading a book, a little pair of eyeglasses over her face as she delved into her latest romance novel, the Highlander's Secret Pleasure. She looked up at me as I entered the room, and then did a quick glance around to see if dad was around.

"Are you okay honey?" She asked.

I stared at her, forming the words. "I could really use... I could really use some help."

Immediately, mom said her book down, placing it in a way where the open pages were pressing against the end table. She got up, took my hand, and led me to my room.

It was insane, I'd never even brought a girl to my house. I've never gone so far as to even go to another girls house to fool around. It was always in places like the outdoors, in hidden closets, the basements of friends' houses, when their own parents were far away. This time, entering the room where I lived, where I studied, my mom led me in and closed the door. I turned around, and wasn't sure exactly what to expect. But then mom went to her knees. "You're in a hurry, aren't you?" She asked, as she descended.

I nodded, not quite sure what she was going to do. Mom thought for a second, her hands folded neatly on her lap as she looked at my hardon poking through my pants. She was deep in thought as she undid my button, lowered my zipper, and brought my cock free, tracking its movement as it waved in front of her. She deliberated, calculated for a few more seconds, and then she nodded, her mind made up.

Her hands went up, not to my cock, but to the top of her dress. In a smooth motion, she pulled the fabric down, lower and lower on her chest, revealing smooth, abundant teats. They spilled out of the top of her dress as she pulled the edge all the way down, adjusting them in order to not only prop up her breasts, but to allow me the perfect vantage to see all of her.

She smiled, leaned forward, and took my cock into her hand, jerking me off the same lovely grip that she had before.

Her breath sped up as she jerked at me with intense and selfless effort. Her breasts bounced as she pumped. The color of her maroon lips were the same color as her nipples. Dark, alluringly beautiful, the same color as her dark freckles across her face, the same color as the ones that speckled her chest.

I felt it, increasing, a strain deep in my core. As I started to get close, mom opened her mouth, took me inside of her mouth, sealing over the head of my penis with her lips. This time, instead of using her mouth as a fucking receptacle, she simply swirled her tongue around my head, making my knees buckle with the tense and sensitive sensation. I was getting dangerously close to the edge.

Mom could tell.

Her mouth made a slick, wet sound as her lips let go of me. "Maybe," she said, pausing. "...maybe you should sit down. Try your essays for a few minutes."

I wasn't quite sure what she was going to do, but followed her suggestion, sitting down at my desk, putting my notes before me. I tried to gather my thoughts and started to write, but then I felt the warmth of her lips, pressed against the back of my head, her hands smoothing down my chest, her bare breasts pushing against my upper back. Her hands went down my waist, pressed along my hip, and suddenly I felt them again, her fingers wrapping around my cock, jerking me off under the desk.

It felt amazing, the sensation of her lips against my hair, the feeling of her breath as her chest gently pressed against my back, the intimate sound of her breathing in my ear as she moved close, hugging me, holding me, her hand pumping my cock in order to make me cum again. Somehow, I broke through the focus barrier, even with the pleasure mom was giving me below the desk.

The pressure built below my waist, and suddenly the words were flowing in an orderly stream. The ideas were now crisp, clear, and I was focused again, the essay flying from my fingers. Ideas connected faster, the glittering, building orgasm started to reach up, mom's fist wrapped tight around my shaft as she masturbated me even faster once she saw how focused I was, and then, somehow, I came up with some clever phrase that tied the whole thing together.

Simultaneously, I felt it, releasing, snapping, the cum flying free under my desk, shooting under the table, while mom adjusted herself in order to better jerked me off as I finished, both the paragraph, and from my cock. I felt it, the cum pumping upwards, collecting against the underside of the desk, dripping down onto my legs, onto the floor.

Gasping, I finished typing the words, still mentally razor-sharp. I reached for a tissue, but mom gently stopped my hand, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and gathered them herself. Her hands went down under the desk, wiped off my cock first, then the underside of the desk, and she went to her knees, then to all fours, moving under the desk in order to carefully clean the floor. I watched her in awe, trying to fathom how seriously she was taking this whole, 'providing for all of my needs' thing.

After a couple seconds of moving around, she was between my legs, looking at me, making sure I was clean. "You know," she said from down there, "I don't think your essays done."

I nodded and went back to work, felt the occasional movement of a tissue wiping over me. And then I suddenly felt a wet splash of hot pleasure juicing over my cock, as I felt her lips go over my head, her mouth sliding over my length and sucking the last drops of cum from me.

Then, she drew back, her mouth departing from the tip of my cock with a pop.

She got up, crawling out from under the desk, stood behind me, and gave me a little kiss on the top of my head, before leaving me to finish out the rest of this essay.

To this day, I still think it was the best essay I've ever written.

---

Somehow, what mom did for me was enough to carry me through three whole days of insane, feverish writing.

The end of it was getting a little bit hairy. As I was closing up the final paragraphs, I was getting intrusive thoughts about my mother, the sensation of her mouth, the feeling of her hand, the knowledge that she was now a hundred percent available for me.

I didn't even have time to think about how fucking crazy this whole thing was. My own mom was jerking me off, sucking on me, swallowing my cum. It might have been in the name of academic success, but holy shit, this was fucking nuts. She was my fucking mom -- she was supposed to be the woman I symbolically left to go make my way in the world.

She wasn't supposed to be the one taking my semen into her mouth.

The emerging train of thought, as well as the intrusive thoughts, weren't too much to stop me from finishing the essays, but it was exhausting, so exhausting that once I finished and submitted them, I collapsed into my bed and slept for what felt like weeks.

That morning, after waking from the sleep of the dead, I was in the kitchen packing some stuff for the school day. When mom came in, she sidled up next to me, kissed me on the cheek. "Morning," she said softly, trying to keep from waking up my dad. "Any idea when your essays are going to be graded?"

"In a couple days, I think."

"How do you think you did?"

I gave a thumbs up, warily. As if I hadn't cum in my mom's mouth multiple times now.

They really were some of the best essays I've ever written in my entire life. Somehow, even though I was writing multiple essays at once, operating on less sleep and fewer breaks than I normally would, they ended up being absolute masterworks.

Mom patted me on the cheek, smiling. She could tell that I was really confident about it. And that I was uneasy.

"Well, I don't want to celebrate too early," she said cautiously, "but listen. When I said earlier that I would give you anything, I meant it." Her fingers gathered at the base of her skirt, before I could open my mouth, she lifted it up.

Beautiful thighs, and a bare, perfectly shaved pussy, delightfully pale.

My mom, the woman that seemed so steady, normal, and natural, was showing me her most private place in the middle of our kitchen, and she leaned forward, her dress still hiked up, and she kissed me again, slower.

Then her lips cruised by my face, while I stood there, stunned, and she whispered in my ear, "anytime you want, feel free, just bend me over and take it."

That was something I never, ever, ever expected to hear from the woman who raised me.

What the hell happened?

We had already done some things together. She had even swallowed my semen, but sex?

Was I actually prepared to have sex with a relative?

With my mom?

Mom drew back, turned around, and left. My eyes followed her legs as she walked, the way her hips swayed. And as she made it to the edge of the kitchen, her hands once again reached towards the back of her dress, started pulling upwards, revealing her gorgeous, thick, curvy figure, the back of her thighs, two incredibly plump ass cheeks. The dress continued to lift up, all the way up to her lower back,

I watched them, each cheek shifting up, down, opposite each other. So heavy, so delicious looking that I literally started to salivate.

It was weird, being so attracted to my mom now.

After a couple days of worry-free bliss, mostly spent reading, jerking off, being too scared to actually take mom up on her offer, I suddenly got the alert on my phone.

My essay grades came in.

I logged into my student portal and open them up and felt my heart pounding as I opened them up.

All A's.

Every single one.

I even had one that had been marked with little symbol that noted it for special consideration, and the little note from the professor, explaining that my essay was a little stroke of genius, that I should be very proud of myself.

I couldn't contain the news. I went out into the living room, where mom and dad were relaxing on their Saturday, showed the results of all my hard work.

Dad even set down his phone.

He beamed at me, told me that he knew I could do it, and that he was very proud.

Mom's reaction was a little different. She gave a very subtle smile, almost like the Mona Lisa. She took a deep breath, relaxing in her chair, looking extremely satisfied and confident. "Well, all I can say is that I knew he would do it," mom said, smiling.

Dad ran to the kitchen to grab some ice creams to celebrate. While we waited for him, mom got up and got very, very close.

My mother leaned in, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered in my ear like she did the other day. "Just let me know when you want your present," she said. She leaned back, and went towards her chair. As dad entered the room, mom was facing exactly away from me, facing exactly toward him.

She looked back, made sure I was looking, and then pulled up the back of her skirt again, once again showing me her beautiful, lovely round ass. I balked at it, especially considering how close she was to dad, and how risky the move would've been if dad decided to step to the side at any point.

She smiled at me mischievously. Dad passed around a couple of ice cream cones, and once he finished, he yawned, left the room, and called it a day. "See you all the morning," he said. "I've got poker with the guys tomorrow. Gotta get there early."

Then it was just us two.

My mother.

And me.

She looked at me expectantly before leaving the living room for the dining room.

I had a choice. I could take mom up on her offer. On her insane, sexy offer that promised me pleasures I had never, ever believed I would want.

The other option was that I go to my room, jerk off, and desperately try to keep from having actual sex with my mother.

It was a weird dilemma.

I had already been jerked off by her, she had already sucked me off, she'd already swallowed my cum. Multiple times, now.

And I wanted it to happen again. I wanted to see her swallow it again.

And to do a lot more.

I felt myself drawn to the dining room. The pent-up horniness, the elation of the grades, the hormones, all of it swirled in my head and made it impossible for me to resist. I went to the dining room, not sure what to expect.

Mom was sitting against the dining room table. Her legs were crossed, her sundress lovingly hiked up around her thighs. The smoothness of her skin, the lovely curves of her calf, her hamstrings, as her legs twining around themselves set my heart skipping, I felt myself salivating, as I looked at her, her effortless beauty, at the freckles just over her softly smiling face.

"Come here, honey," she said softly.

She opened her arms, to receive me, as if she was calling me over to comfort me after falling. I walked over to her, hypnotized. Once I was close enough, her hands went to my shoulders, traced up my neck. She pulled me close and then kissed me.

Mom's lips were soft, her smile filtering even through the kiss, the warmth of her mouth, the taste of her lips and tongue like mint and vanilla. Her kiss deepened, her tongue pressing into my mouth. I couldn't help but kiss back.

I really was kissing my own mother.

My hands suddenly started moving forward of their own accord, and started feeling her thighs, how soft they were, how lovingly plump they were. I relished the sensation is my hands dug in, as my fingers pressed tighter, as I could feel the texture of her flesh, of her firm thigh muscles underneath her curvy legs.

Somehow, mom's body was so brilliantly sexy, after decades of doing nothing but housework and Pilates. Her thighs alone felt better than any of the girls I've ever been with high school, felt better than any of the imagined sensations of girls that I wanted to college. My mom was a real woman; an intensely curvy woman, whose flesh felt so achingly soft and firm and receptive, that I felt my cock strengthening, begging to get into the abundant naturalness of her form.

Her hands lifted off my face, even as she continued to kiss me, nibbling on my bottom lip. She took my hands in hers and then pressed them under her dress, slipping them beneath the fabric, encouraging me to run my hands up her waist, her tummy, sliding up her soft and inviting flesh until I could find her voluptuous breasts.

Mom wasn't wearing a bra. The pillowy mounds of her breasts were heavenly delight.

I felt myself kneeling down, as I tucked my head under the edge of her dress, moved towards her breast, licking up, tasting her skin. My tongue finally reached that nipple, maroon, lovingly dark red, the taste like almonds and milk. I sucked, heard her sigh. Mom's hands wandered over my shoulders, smoothed along my back and rubbed it, as if she were just comforting me, as if I were small again.

As if I were breast-feeding. After a minute she tapped me on the shoulder and gently said, "it's time, honey."

I stepped back, as she stood up, as her hands smoothed down the front of her thighs.

She turned around, she leaned over the table, her breasts settling on its smooth wooden surface, her hands reaching back toward the edge of her dress, lifting it up, inch by inch, revealing the smooth, beautiful skin of her hamstrings, the edge of her buttocks, and suddenly, the entirety of her ass was exposed. Her dress settled around her lower back, she leaned completely over, moving her hands forward and smoothing them over the table as she gripped the edges.

She looked back at me, waiting.

As she waited, she splayed out in front of me, inviting me, showing me the pinkness between her legs, her feet slipping to the side to show me what lay just below her ass, the beautiful pinkness of two lips, perfect, symmetrical, intensely tight.

I couldn't wait for it. I tugged my pants down, and looked around for dad.

"There was a sleeping pill in his tea, honey," mom whispered, her breath dragging. "He's not going to be awake." Then she turned away, gently moved her butt from side to side, beckoning. "You can do whatever you like. Nobody's going to stop you."

Whatever I liked?

I couldn't believe it. I stepped closer, my cock stuck straight out, throbbing, aching, demanding. I got close, I could see the detail of her breathing, the gentle movement of her chest, her tummy, the way her legs alternated in their movement, up and down.

As she waited for me.

My mother was so beautiful.

It was time to go back inside her.

I got close. As I pressed against the back of her legs, as the heat of her hamstrings blended with my own, her flesh soft, inviting, as my cock pressed close to those two beautiful, pink, wet lips, I felt my heart beating through my ears. This was my mom. What the fuck was I thinking?

I didn't want to hold back.

If this was crazy, then I was crazy.

I focused on the sound of mom's breathing, the gentle quivering movement of her pussy, as my cock finally slid forward, pressing between those two lips, feeling the intense explosion of hot and slick, and in a single move I was able to go inside of her.

Holy fuck.

She was so wet that I slid right in, and felt the wash of slipping over the entirety of my shaft, as I went inside her, my own mother, as I dipped into the honey I was born from, back where I began. The movement into her elicited a gasp, from both of us. My head involuntarily rocked back, the pleasure of being inside of her more than anything I'd ever dreamed, better than the way she sucked on me, better than her hand jobs, better than any sexual tryst I've ever had with any girl up to this point my entire life.

Being inside my mom was the best.

I started thrusting, unable to hold myself back.

The rhythmic slap of my hips against her ass, and slick sound of her pussy, milking all over my cock, drove me closer, and closer, moms gasps becoming more varied, more tense.

I felt it, building up, the strain and the tension and the slingshot that pulled back, back, back, and then I came.

I pulled out, squirting upward, jizz roping all over my mother's lower back, creating little streaks down her ass, dripping down from her tailbone into the crevice between her beautiful cheeks. A trail of semen dripped over her asshole. The rest of it continued to flow from my cock, to squirt from it, painting her pussy with white. I groaned, releasing every little drop of myself all over her.

Mom shakily sighed until I stopped.

The realization of what I had done sank in. It wasn't as disturbing, but it was no less shocking than before.

Her and I were gasping, trying to catch our breath. I turned away to go grab some paper towels, but mom straightened up, quickly, and told me not to worry about it. She held her dress above her lower back as she walked.

I watched as my cum dripped from her back, down her ass, down even between her legs. She went over to the paper towels, ripped off a couple and slowly started to clean herself off.

That was my cum.

My cum was carefully wiped from her skin. Carefully cleaned off of her pink pussy, wadded into paper towels as if she were just cleaning a spill on the counter.

"I think you deserve a good night sleep," she said, her trademark soft smile warming my heart, even amid the absolute shock that I has just fucked her. My actual mother. I was deep inside her just a second ago. My cum was all over her ass, her pussy, just a few seconds ago.

Sleep.

That was a good suggestion.

I stumbled off in stunned shock and collapsed into my bed.

My sleep was dreamless.

Chapter 5

What followed for the next few weeks was a simple system.

Anytime I encountered a slump, anytime a simple meditative break wasn't enough, I sent her a text, and should came into my room. Sometimes she leaned over me from behind, gripping my cock and stroking until I came under the desk, sometimes she would even crawl under it, wrapping her mouth over my cock, and sucking me off until I came down her throat.

Often times, I simply stood in the middle of my room, while she would be on her knees in front of me, sucking on my shaft, licking my balls, jerking me off until I came all over her beautiful, freckled face. This happened daily, whenever I wanted, every time I asked her.

The day before a battery of especially difficult to study for tests, mom didn't answer my phone. I came out my room, looking for her, and found her in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She had headphones on, which explains why she didn't hear me, but I figured now was a great time to just relieve myself.

I went behind her, and lifted the back of her dress. Without seeming to react, she simply pushed her ass back, baring herself completely for me, no underwear, allowing me access. After she looked around quickly to make sure that dad wasn't around, I pulled down my pants and quickly inserted myself into her. Mom made a little sharp inhale as I penetrated her, my cock plunging as deep as I possibly could, and then I started fucking, vigorously trying to empty myself into her as she continued to chop vegetables, to prepare the night's dishes, and at some point, when she didn't really have much to do in that part of the counter, she simply gripped it, pushed her ass back, waiting patiently for me to finish.

I felt it building, but it wasn't fast enough, I needed just a little bit more to put me over the edge.

I reached my hands up and over her shoulders, and yanked her dress down, baring her breasts, watching as her tits bounced up and down, as I fucked her harder, grabbing her soft flesh, kneading it, as she gasped little louder, as I went harder, fucked faster, started slamming her into the counter, grunting with the effort and pleasure, until finally, lost the mix of sensation, sound, the beauty of my mother's back, I came, and this time, I didn't even pull out. I came deep inside of her, my cock pushing up, towards her cervix, up towards her womb.

Mom, instead of stopping me like I half expected she would, gave a satisfied little groan, as I pumped my seed deep inside of her. After a couple minutes of standing there, feeling the tension falling away, feeling the slickness of my cum mingling with her juices, I pulled out, and watched as my semen started to run down her legs in beautiful, silvery rivulets.

Mom started cleaning herself up, wiping between her legs with some napkins, and without even addressing it, went immediately back to work as I retreated back to my desk.

Obviously, the next day, I aced that test.

Chapter 6

A couple weeks before finals, I woke up to an email from the faculty. It stated, in no uncertain terms, that this next project was going to make the last few months look like a cakewalk.

For the next couple weeks, you will be pushed to your limits to accomplish the capstone project. Upon its completion you will be graded by the deans of each of your respective schools.

The next couple weeks? The fucking deans?

I looked at requirements for it. It would've taken any ordinary person working 12-hour days, 8 days a week, at least, to fill the minimal requirements. My eyes went wide at the word counts, the intense questions being asked. I was going to be stuck in my room the whole time.

Every possible corner that could be cut, had to be cut. I was going to have to function on less sleep, and ultimately, I was going to have to push the limits harder than ever before.

I heard a knock on my door.

Mom came in and could immediately tell what I was facing. She emphasized, "If there's anything you need, anytime, let me know."

"I need something now," I said, turning around, and immediately getting to work on my outline.

I felt mom as she pressed up behind me. She started stroking me, her hands running down my front, unzipping my fly, opening the pants button as her breasts pressed against the back of my head. The foundations of my work started to piece together. I started organizing books, setting up little spreadsheets and organizational systems, as I felt her hand, wrapping around my cock, moving, starting to milk me.

After a few more minutes, my cock tensing up, feeling a clench, I came all over her hands,

She cleaned me up, and left. For the next few hours, I was razor-sharp, but then I started reaching another slowing point. For some reason, it didn't seem to take that long. I got up, tried to stretch, drink water, guzzled coffee, watched the sunset through my window, and then called mom over again.

This time, she knelt before me, pulling down my pants, taking me into her mouth, pulling down her dress, shifting her breasts up so that I could look at them, and then, after she sucked on me, slurping on me, vigorously jerking me off and trying to get me to empty myself into her mouth, it happened. I shuddered as my cum shot down her throat, as she swallowed with the dainty movement of her mouth and tongue. She took the last drops of it down her slender, beautiful throat and looked up at me, freckles glittering in the light of the sunset.

Mom got up to leave, pulling her dress back up, putting her breasts away. She left, came back within minutes with more coffee, sandwiches, fruit, and a giant bottle of water, and left me again to get back into it.

I was making good progress.

Then tiredness. But I was on a roll. I knew for a fact that if I could maintain this momentum for just another couple hours, somehow, I would get done with this capstone a lot sooner. So I made the call.

Mom arrived at my door, silently coming in. I pointed at the bed, mom spread her legs, pulled up her dress, and as I relished the sight of her lovely, beautifully curvy ass, I penetrated her, gripped her by her hair, pulled her head back, started fucking her as hard as I could, my cock throbbing inside of her, even though it already come twice, the sight of her was more than enough to keep me going, and as I felt my heart rate increasing, as the wet slapping of her ass against my waist and thighs, her gasp starting to get louder in the bedroom, I finally seized, pulling her hair even farther back, watching as her back arched in a beautiful curve, as she received my seed deep inside of her body.

I pulled out immediately, directed that she turn, kneel, and clean the last drops from my cock. After her hot mouth sucked and slurped the whiteness from my tip, she rose to her feet, her hands between her legs to catch the semen that was running down.

She left.

I went a couple more hours and made greater progress than I thought was possible, then collapsed into my bed, exhausted.

The next morning, I woke not to my alarm clock, but the sensation of soft lips, wrapped around my shaft, sucking me awake. Mom was leaning over my bed, her hands gently massaging my thighs, as her mouth moved up and down over my penis, the milky sensation of her slurping waking me up just before my alarm clock could get me. I quickly turned off my alarm, and enjoyed the sight of mom bringing me awake, her lips and tongue pleasuring my glans.

Her hands wound their way to my shaft and started jerking it. I was awake, I was getting ready, I was cumming, and my hips bucked up as I forced her head down. Mom made a little surprised noise as I spurted my jizz into her mouth, she pulled up, but I still squirted, and then a little line of semen went up and over her lips as she gasped.

She started laughing at this, and then quickly cleaned me up. She left and immediately came back with a tray of coffee, breakfast, and water. As I settled into my desk, surprised that the efficiency of the system, mom gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head and told me that I was doing great.

But as I stared at the massive pile of papers, books, and the cluttered workspace on my laptop, I knew I'd need her soon. I turned around, right as she was trying to leave. "Mom?"

She stopped at the doorway and listened, expectantly.

"Do you think you could just stay, and just keep yourself... you know, available? On my bed?"

Mom nodded, and then added that she would be right back.

I got my stuff in order, prepared myself to continue on the capstone, and reached a point where at least the desk seemed like I could actually work on it, when mom came back in.

This time, much to my surprise, she was wearing absolutely nothing.

My mother's shape was a marvel.

No fertility goddess, no milf, no fantasy had anything on the gorgeous, fertile curves my mother had. Her legs were ample, sweeping in dramatic curves around her legs, the plush softness of her ass visible from the front, two cute little lips between her legs under the perfectly shaved spot that would have held a little patch of soft, brown hair.

Each step, her breasts shifted, rolling down in two plump teardrops that were so heavy and ample that they fell just barely to the side, adorning her flat tummy, her nipples making a cute triangle with her belly button.

My mother was perfect.

Stunningly perfect.

"Your dad is at work," she said, as casually as if she were telling me I had a dentist appointment next week. "So he's not going to be coming back until a few hours from now. Whenever you need it," she said, smiling, "feel free to take it."

Then she went over to my bed, gently laid across it, her ass in the air, watching me. I went back to work, I could tell that mom was just studying the way that I was doing it. After a couple hours, I felt it coming. The distraction. The brain fog.

I got up from my desk, turned to mom, who was already shifting in the place for me, her beautiful bottom poking up in the air she adjusted herself, I went over to the bed, where she laid down across it, and marveled at the beautiful pillows of her bottom, strikingly high in the air.

My mother was shaped so gorgeously. So abundantly.

I settled around her, straddled her legs, pull down my pants and brushed my cock over her beautiful ass. I pressed into her pussy from behind, laying down over her, and started fucking, using my bedspread as support.

As I plunged in and out of her, she started making little noises of delight, her gasps just like when I'd surprise her with a little present on her birthday. I worked harder, plunging in and out faster, allowing the momentum and springs of my bed to help me to plunge fully and, fully out, fully and, faster and faster.

"Oh honey," mom whispered to me as I was gasping, getting closer, "you're doing so good. Just keep it up baby. Just come inside mommy again, okay?"

Then I did. I suddenly felt the strain and tightness exploding through my waist, I suddenly flooded her pussy with cum. Mom gasped, arching her bottom even higher up to receive my seed.

I slipped back, feeling my cock slipping out from between her tightness, watching the trail of semen as it clung to her bottom, then immediately went down back to work. I heard mom shifting behind me as she cleaned herself off, and prepared herself for me again.

An hour later, the same thing was happening. Now, it wouldn't really make sense for most people to be able to get it up again, but I was on a roll, and the idea of my gorgeous, sexy mom laying down on my bed in my room was so insane that I couldn't help myself. I took a quick break, jumping up from my desk, going over to her as she lay on her back, her head leaning over the side, upside down. Her breasts were heavy in the air, her legs were crossed, and the way she was positioned was perfect for me to simply go up to her, and to shove my cock down her throat.

It was incredible -- I grabbed her breasts and plunged my shaft deep inside her mouth, feeling as it bumped against the back of her throat, feeling as she was swallowing, taking me in, allowing me to use her mouth for my pleasure, watching as her legs twined as she adjusted herself to take me in, deeper, down.

I plunged in and out, hearing the recurring swallowing noises as she tried to keep herself receptive, to keep her gag reflex from stopping her, until finally I felt it coming, then came, straight down her throat, feeling as she swallowed, over and over, drinking my seed until I finally pulled out, my cock trailing another line of semen down her nose, up and over her freckles as I drew back.

As I went back to my desk, I saw her turn around, flipping onto her stomach, propping her head up with her hands as she watched me, almost like a schoolgirl, my semen still trailing on her face. She seemed so pleasantly content, just laying there on my bed, ready at any minute for me to use her again.

After that, she cleaned herself off and I got back into the rhythm of working. Somehow, all that was enough to tide me over for the next several hours, even as dad got home, once mom had changed back into her dress, and prepared us dinner.

As we ate, mom passed dad a cup of tea. After he drank it down, mom took a quick glance at me, and winked. I knew what it meant. Dad was about to go to sleep, very soon.

A couple hours later, after dad shuffled off to bed, mom dropped by my room. "Your father is asleep," she said in a hushed tone at my door. She lifted an arm, and draped it over her head as she leaned in my doorway. "Do you need me to stay on your bed again?"

I nodded, as I tried to regain my place in my project. Mom obediently went to my bed, laid down again, this time on her back, she lifted a single leg and pulled her skirt up around her waist, presenting herself to me.

When I after about an hour of intense work, I had that block. I turned around, pulled my pants down, and snapped my fingers. It was to the point now where mom was so well practiced that she jumped up, moved to her knees, and immediately engulfed my cock with her mouth.

She sucked, vigorously, her eyes closed, making little noises as she tasted me, as she vigorously and eagerly tried to bring me to orgasm. I leaned back, thinking more about my project while her mouth slurped on me. I felt the orgasm building, her fingers wrapping gently around my shaft, her hair bobbing up and down, and after a minute, as I worked through a few more aspects of my capstone in planning, mom finally let go of my cock with her mouth, the sound making a slick pop as her lips left my head.

A line of drool connected my cock to her lips.

She looked up at me. "Maybe I should try something else?"

I nodded, and then mom stood up, lifted leg over me as she straddled me, immediately taking me in, engulfing my cock with her tightness as she started to ride me, precariously balanced on the chair. Her breasts pushed into my face, her breaths dragging, a soft whine breathing into my ear as she pushed, pulled, as I sucked a nipple into my mouth and tasted it, toying with it against my tongue. I sucked on it, hard, and she gasped, her eyes flitting closed, "oh, hun, this brings me way, way back."

She bucked her hips, forward and back, rolling herself over me, making a swirling motion, a delicious and milky sensation creaming over my cock as her hands went up to my face, stroking my cheeks, as she rode me, ground on my shaft, as she breathed heavily, the slick noise of her fucking on my cock loud through my bedroom.

Mom slowed, her lips pursing, her eyes looking into mine, her head cocked to the side in concern. After she stopped, she got up, making a slick noise as my cock pulled out from inside her.

She stepped back, facing me, her arms folded, her fingers trailing over her mouth as she processed what to do. "Why don't you wait here," she said, thinking. "And I'll come back in a little bit. I think I have a surprise for you."

Half an hour later, she came back.

Wearing lingerie.

She was wearing a piece of lingerie, something I'd never, ever seen on her before. Something I never imagined a mother could wear.

It was translucent, the skirt actually starting from her ribs, and then lacing down and settling just below her hip. But underneath that, she was wearing nothing; no panties, no underwear, the beautiful roundness of her ass veiled by the translucent négligée. Her breasts were visible through the silk, the points of her nipples poking through. A deep maroon underneath the fabric.

Mom stepped closer to me, leaned over as I sat in my chair, and kissed me. Her tongue pressed into my mouth, I couldn't help but close my eyes as I savored the taste, the texture of her tongue as it explored my teeth, pushing against my own tongue.

She then leaned closer, her lips by my ear, and she whispered, her tone silky. "Have you ever done anal?"

Chapter 7

Did my mom just offer to do anal with me?

Handjobs were one thing.

Blowjobs another.

Offering her pussy to me, was an even crazier level -- for a mom to have sex with her son was insane enough, especially when I considered my mom, who never so much as cursed.

Anal was a whole new world.

"I got everything prepared, down there," she said, winking. "Everything," she said. "There's nothing you have to worry about."

Then she turned around, her fingers lightly touching the edges of the négligée, presenting the plush curve below her back to me. "Do you want it now?" She asked. "Or do you want me to wait for you right here?"

Her hands went to the edges of my bed, one hand wrapping around the bed post, as she spread her legs, bending forward, arching her back, presenting her ass to me fully and completely. Between her abundant and bountiful cheeks, I could see it. A tiny, pink starfish. A little pucker, an impossibly tight little hole.

How could I say no?

I jumped up, got close, hardly believing what I was looking at. "You know, I prepared it completely for you. You don't even need lube, I've already done it," she said, pushing her ass even farther out.

I found myself panting.

It looked like it hadn't even been used, as if mom had saved this especially for me.

It was so impossibly tiny that I couldn't even believe that it was there. I didn't want to waste any more time; my cock was throbbing, I had to get closer, I had to put myself inside of her.

The head of my cock went up, I noticed her clean scent, floral, bright. She was so impossibly prepared and perfect and ready for me, when my cock finally went to the entrance of her butt, I could see it flexing, twitching, as she prepared herself to receive me. The head of my cock pushed up against that delightfully cute little pucker, and I could tell that it really was unused.

I pushed, and then mom hissed, "gently, gently."

As I slowly entered her tight little asshole, the insanity of how tight it was blowing my mind, rocking my hips as I edged into her, not even inch by inch. I could only enter her a centimeter at a time. The head was inside -- her tightness gripped me harder than I've ever experienced in my entire life.

I was halfway in, mom was groaning, her head down, her eyes closed tight, her hands gripping the bedframe tight, as she struggled to take me in. I could tell mom was trying as hard as she could to take me into her.

The farther I pushed in, the better it felt, the tighter and more her ass clenched on my cock. The deeper I went, the more she groaned, moaned, as she finally took me in all the way. I was up to the hilt, all the way inside my mother's asshole.

I felt it flexing on me, watched mom pant as she struggled with it, trying to keep from shaking.

The bounty of her ass was soft against my pelvis. I savored it, the tightness, the heat. Being inside my mom this way was so incredible that I couldn't even believe it was happening. Her breath finally slowed, dragging in and out as she adjusted to it, the sensation of her own sons cock throbbing inside of her. I couldn't help but flex inside of her, the sensation so extreme. Each time I did, she shivered, shuddered, made soft little ones as I flexed deep within her.

This alone was incredible.

This alone, honestly, if she just held onto me for another few minutes, I could cum inside of her even without thrusting. But I couldn't help myself. I started moving my own accord, pushing my cock deep inside, gently pulling it out, watching as her hole clung to it, gripping my cock.

I pushed in again, heard her softly whine, pulled out, felt her shudder underneath me.

I had to go faster. I had to go harder. I started moving in and out, faster and faster, as mom struggled to take it in, to let it go, to push and pull on my girth, she started whimpering, moaning, whispering that she was so proud of me, that I was so good.

"Anything for you, honey," she said, half sobbing with the effort, "anything for my little boy." I thrust harder, and mom let go of the bedpost, falling, her upper body now resting on the bed, her ass pushed upward as her back bent below me, her hands scrambling to hold tight onto something before seizing some of my blankets and gripping them tight.

My teeth were gritting so hard, as I started plunging in and out, letting the animalistic side of me loose on my own mother, I started feeling it building, her tightness clenching on me harder, trigging the last moments -- I was about to come. I was about to unload everything I had deep inside my mom's asshole. My vision started going, as the pleasure rocketed upwards, I felt it clenching, I felt the tightness, mom's gasps and groans and the way that she lovingly accepted, held tight onto her own son in a way she had never let anyone use her, made everything flash.

Suddenly, as I crested the wave, the only awareness I had of mom's moaning, I came, groaning so hard I had to bite into my lips. I felt it pumping, feeling my balls pumping semen, what felt like unending gallons of it, pulsing in, pumping into her, going deep inside of her until mom started making noise as if she was crying with delighted noises, as I spasmed and unloaded every ounce of my incestual jizz deep inside of her.

Then I was aware again, standing, as reality reformed around me.

Mom was still trembling, her hole tight around me.

My cock was buried deep inside of her, the last drops trickling, the sensation of hot cum drooling from her hole. I took a few deep breaths before slowly pulling out, mom gave a shudder as my cock finally pulled free.

I noticed it, her beautiful asshole, making a perfectly circular, pink gape, my cum running free in rivulets down, between her butt cheeks, trickling even over the lips of her pussy.

Mom leaned heavily on my bedspread, shaking, her breaths shallow.

After a while, she stood up, shaking, while I stood back, observing my handiwork. Mom gave a sigh, and a laugh, shaking with relief that it was over, that she had successfully done her job. She grabbed some tissues, carefully started to clean herself up, she looked at me and smiled.

"Well tiger," she said, her voice trembling, "you'd better get back to it."

Chapter 8

The grades for everyone's capstones were set to be released on the last day of the term.

Until that point, we just had some busy work, essays, surveys, a few interviews with faculty and staff to help us with our career guidance. I'd be lying if I said it didn't drive me nuts, only doing busywork while waiting for the grade that would ultimately decide my fate at this university.

Whether I could continue for another year.

I was at the kitchen table with my parents, the deadline for the grading set in two minutes. Dad was nervously drumming his fingers on the table, glancing at his phone, picking it up, putting it down, even biting his fingernails.

Mom sat coolly back instead, looking at me with confidence, with pride. Even if dad and I were nervous as hell, mom didn't seem at all bothered. I guess she was that confident her abilities kept me on the right academic track.

My phone suddenly vibrated in the middle of the table. Mom, dad, and I simultaneously struck out to try and grab it, but I got it first. I opened up the app, dug into my student folder, opened the grades. Across the rubric, across every possible metric, it was... Exemplary. A solid A. Four. Point. Oh.

My eyes widened as I read it out loud. Dad collapsed back in his chair with a groan of relief, while mom gave a laugh and started twirling her hair. My heart was pounding, my was heart rate rising, falling, rising again as I went through the stress and release of knowing that I was accepted to another brutal year of Federal Way University.

Mom started looking at me with smug confidence and pride, with love, with care, with that same smile that she offered when I passed my midterms in the winter.

The same smile that offered a very, very special treat in my room tonight.

I felt my cock rise in anticipation as I realized I was about to be rewarded for all my hard work, but at the same time, I started thinking a little bit about the future.

I realized, with a mixture of fear and excitement, that I had three more years of university to go.

Just three more years of hard work.

And mom.

Unless I wanted my Master's.

The End