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My mother always told me to be obliging and submissive before the men in my life. “Their lives and ours are too different to understand each other. You’ll make a better man of your husband if you are his wife, mother, nurse, and teacher, all at once. And the same for your sons and father. They don’t know it, but they need it. You should be obliging even when they don’t ask for your help,” were her words of wisdom.
I never forgot her lesson. I watched her oblige to my father’s every need and desire — make him food, clean up after him, support his ideas, and answer his every command. When I grew older I realized that her submission, her obliging without request, probably extended to the bedroom. It only seemed natural. At times I was repulsed by her near-servant status, but I recognized over time that my parent’s relationship was much stronger and more intimate than the relationships of my friend’s parents. We were conservative people with conservative values and who was I to question what worked.
And so, when I married my husband, Jake, I followed my mother’s lead. I did everything for him; I gave him my heart and mind, and yielded my body before his whether he asked for it or not. In the bedroom, I let myself become an object before his lust and existed to merely please his desires. I found this partly degrading at first, but soon found it exciting. My body was not my own when we were together — it was his. I disengaged myself when we fucked and found myself experiencing my body and my orgasms through his body and through his orgasms. And I discovered that I wasn’t sexual except in the act of submission, except when my sexuality was extracted from me by my husband’s molestations.
My friends had no idea. I never talked about sex to any of them. I wore long skirts or dresses that did not reveal my slender, sexualized body. I attended church twice a week, helped with its organizing efforts and taught Sunday School for a time. Nobody knew about my slavish sexual nature.
We had our son when I was just twenty and I ensured that we raised him in a conservative and familial environment like the one I was brought up in. My husband went to work and I stayed home to look after our son, Robbie. He was homeschooled until high school, when he decided that he wanted to venture beyond my classroom. And it was late in high school that my relationship with my son changed….
I suppose that all mothers discover that their sons masturbate at some point. The evidence accumulates beyond a doubt. Mattresses, pillows, and sheets are stained. Tissues pile up in bathroom and bedroom waste baskets. Socks and towels become sticky and then crusty. And, in my case, disorder in my underwear drawer provided clues that someone had been there. No mother wants to believe the evidence, however, until the moment she actually stumbles upon the act. And when I walked in on Robbie, one evening after school, I had to fain shock. He had left his bedroom door open a crack and so I did not knock. I was collecting laundry and wanted to let him know that dinner would be ready in ten minutes when I entered. There he was, lying on his bed when his penis in hand, ogling a Victoria Secret catalogue. He immediately laid the catalogue over his penis to hide it from view and I backed out of the room.
“Oh my….” I exclaimed as I moved into the hallway.
“Jesus, mom!” Robbie shouted in embarrassed surprise.
“Don’t use that word, young man,” I shouted back, temporarily forgetting its context. “The Lord’s name is not to be taken in this house ever!”
“Sorry mom, but….I’ll…..I’ll be down in a few minutes to dinner, just give me a few minutes,” Robbie said. He was clearly humiliated and couldn’t think of what to say. I felt the same and thought that the space of a few minutes, his temporary solution to the problem of what should pass between mother and son and a moment like this, would be good and proper.
“Fine,” I said, “dinner will be ready in ten.”
I left the laundry basket I had been carrying upstairs and went down to the kitchen. I stirred pots that didn’t need stirring and went through other automatic tasks mindlessly. I was confounded by what to say to my son. Perhaps his father should be the one to talk to him, but his father was not at home. Jake left early in the morning, before Robbie or I awoke, and returned after dinner. His job kept him late these days as the flailing economy demanded more productivity from those who were lucky to keep their jobs. But bringing Jake into this would just cause more embarrassment; it would mean another person finding out something that Robbie clearly wanted to keep secret. So what to do? Do I talk to him? Should I ignore what I just saw and allow him to continue on?
Among these thoughts came to my mind words my husband always said, “masturbation is an act for those who are not loved.” He said that he never masturbated, that he endlessly preferred me and I illegal bahis believed him. When we were younger he used my body to pleasure himself many times a day and although we had grown older and the sex had slowed, he knew that if he wanted “release” all he had to do was take me.
And so now my son was masturbating. So he was “not loved” as my husband would say. He had no girlfriend, and if he had then my husband and I would have forbade premarital sex. He had no other outlet for his natural male urges but to satisfy himself. It seemed a cheerless and inappropriate means to a necessary end.
I then thought of my mother’s words, “be obliging and submissive before the men in your life.” The depth and wisdom of those words guided me throughout my life and then seemed to bear a weight now. Obliging and submissive, that was my role as wife and mother. I had two men in my life and they each needed me to make them better, to make them successful, rounded, and worldly men. I was what my husband needed, but now, after walking in on Robbie, I began to doubt that I was what my son needed. He was lonely; he was trying to experience something that was inherently social as an individual and the pathetic reality of that slapped me in the face. The truth that I was letting him down confronted me and threatened to haunt me forever if I did nothing to change my relationship with my son.
It had been about ten minutes, but Robbie had yet to come downstairs. There was no sound or movement coming from upstairs. I imagined him sitting on his bed, petrified of what awaited him at the dinner table. I felt responsible for this sad image.
I turned off the stove tops and the oven and ascended the stairs. I would confront him, ask him about his needs and why he was masturbating, and exorcize the demons that had already begun to haunt me.
When I knocked on his door I heard a faint, “um…come in?” I entered and found him sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. He looked scared and guarded.
“I didn’t come to yell at you or embarrass you further, baby,” I said. “I merely came to have a brief chat and see what we can do to make things better for you in this house.”
“Better?” he questioned.
“Yes, better. You see,” I began, “I feel that what I saw you doing a few minutes ago is a symptom of my mothering. I think that it is a result of a weakness in our relationship — an indication that something needs to be remedied.”
“Mom, it has nothing to do with you. I’m just a guy and that’s what guys do.”
“It has everything to do with me, Robbie. It is not ‘just what guys do;’ it is a perversion of nature; it is what guys do when they can’t do it properly…..with a woman.”
“Well, I’m not that popular in school. I’ve never been with a woman,” he said.
“I know. And I wouldn’t want that. Premarital sex is wrong; you shouldn’t be with random girls experimenting. It’s dangerous and sinful.”
“Then I’ll stop altogether and just ignore those urges. That’s what you want, right?”
“No, honey. They are natural enough urges. They are God’s way of telling you that you need a partner to share them with. The orgasm is a miracle, but only when it’s shared with someone you love, not when its arrived at alone or awkwardly experienced out of sheer curiosity with some teenage girl.”
“Then what do you suggest?” he asked. He still could hardly look at me. The conversation we were having was too intimate for his comfort. Our family did not have conversations about sex and it was affecting him.
“What I’m suggesting,” I said, touching his chin with my fingers and directing his gaze into mine, “is that as your mother I should be willing to give myself to your urges. My body is not mine alone, it is partly yours. You were born inside of it and it will be yours until I return to God. If you need to orgasm it should be with me, inside of me.”
“Are you joking?” he asked. His face had a look of disbelief. He hadn’t expected me to say what I said.
“I love you, Robbie, and I just want to be an obliging and submissive mother to you. And I think that this it what is needed on my part right now. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about sex or pleasuring a woman; I just know my own urges and pleasures.”
“That’s fine, honey. That’s all you need. Don’t worry about me. I want you to think of my body as a tool for you to gain pleasure. Don’t worry about foreplay or romance or any of that stuff — that’s not what this is about. This agreement is about you gaining the release that young men your age need — quickly, efficiently, and properly, with someone who loves you. Does that sound good?”
“It sounds funny, but I guess, okay.”
“Good, then tell me, are you in need of release right now? You were ten minutes ago, but did you finish?”
“No I didn’t finish, I was too embarrassed to continue.”
“Good. Then before dinner, we’ll have a test run and I’ll show you what I mean.”
I stood up from the bed. illegal bahis siteleri My son looked into my face and then down my body. He was in awe of what was about to happen. I was wearing a housewife dress that went beyond knee length. I reached behind me and unzipped the dress and let it fall to the ground. Robbie gulped as my body unveiled itself to him for the first time. I was wearing white cotton panties and a white bra, but my flat stomach and curves of my hips and medium breasts were visible to him in a way that was unimaginable before. I then removed my bra and let my breasts hang freely on my chest. My small nipples pointed at my son. I was arousing myself at my own actions, at my own submission. Then, I reached to remove my underwear and exposed the bushy patch between my legs to my son’s stark gaze. I said nothing, I merely removed my clothes, obligingly and submissively, for Robbie’s enjoyment. It felt remarkably safe and familiar and reminded me of when I did the same for the first time for Jake on our wedding night.
“What…..what do I do?” Robbie asked, gawking at my nipples and then shifting again to my pussy.
“I am going to lay down on your bed and spread my legs a bit for you. All you have to do is take off your pants, lay on top of me, and insert your penis in the slit between my legs,” I said, spreading the slit with my fingers to show him the entranceway to my innards. “Then you just thrust until you orgasm, just like when you masturbate.”
“But, won’t that make you pregnant?” He asked.
“No, honey, I’m on birth control. You can’t make me pregnant. Nothing can go wrong. You are in a safe place with the person who loves you most in the world.”
“And I can touch you and your body?”
“You may do to my body whatever you like. And you can request from me anything that you would like, anything that will help you achieve pleasure. Don’t be afraid to ask.”
Robbie stood up and watched me as I laid down on his bed. I put my head on his pillows and lay on my back, spreading my legs a bit, just like I promised. He was paralyzed with fear and awe at my submission. “Just remove your pants, Robbie, and lay down on top of mommy. I promise, it will feel good.”
Robbie unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his legs along with his underwear. Under his hanging shirt I could see the swell of his penis. “And my shirt?” he asked.
“Take it off too, you’ll be able to feel my breasts on your chest and it’ll feel better.”
He removed his shirt and his penis came back into full view. It reminded me of Jake’s when he was Robbie’s age and we were married. It was stiff and purple and blue and made me wet in remembrance.
“Come on, baby,” I enticed him, “just climb on top of me and stick your penis inside of mommy. I promise it’ll feel great.”
Robbie followed my command this time. He awkwardly climbed atop me from the side and fell onto me. Feeling his weight above me made me cringe with pleasure. He was too heavy and strong for me to fight or push off if I changed my mind now and I suddenly felt my own urges surface in my actions. I reached down between us and grabbed his penis.
“Mommy?” Robbie asked, rhetorically.
“Don’t worry, baby. Mommy’s going to take care of you.” I yanked a few times on his penis to make sure it was hard. It felt like a metal rod, it was so stiff. I placed it at the opening of my pussy and told him to push.
“Ugh!” Robbie let out, as he let his weight push his penis into me. “Mommy, mommy, I’ve thought about this,” he confessed as he began humping wildly into my center.
“I know baby. It’s perfectly natural. That’s why I’m here for you. Now, just cum inside of mommy, empty yourself into me, Robbie. Come on, Mommy’s here for you, always.” I held his hips as they gyrated into me.
“MommMeee!” Robbie let out as he came a moment later. He had lasted about ten seconds. At the time I was a bit surprised, but looking back it made sense. He had never seen a naked woman, had never touched one, and it is touching to think how quickly I was able to satisfy my son.
Robbie panted for a second and then leaned down to kiss my left breast while fondling my right. He was exhausted from the most fulfilling cum he had ever experienced, and yet he seemed suddenly hurried. It was as though he realized that the sex was over and the magic of my body was about to leave him. He desperately wanted to explore, to fulfill his curiosity, before I took myself away forever.
“Relax, baby. Just relax. I’m not going anywhere. My body is yours to enjoy whenever you want. We’re done here now. Why don’t we go down to dinner? Later, when you feel up to it, we can do this again.”
“Okay mom, I really want to. I’m tired, but I really want to again.”
“I know, sweetie. There’ll be plenty of time for that.”
At dinner Robbie and I sat quietly for a while and then began discussing neutral topics: school, the neighbor’s new dog, our summer vacation. Then, Robbie found the courage canlı bahis siteleri to bring up his father. “What about dad?” he asked, “won’t dad be angry if he finds out about what just happened?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned on telling him. I think we should keep it a secret and not tell anyone. If anyone finds out, then we’ll have to stop.”
“Aren’t you cheating on him though?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. I love you both and you both know that. I am willing to do what I can to make each of you happy in your own ways. He is my husband and you are my son. Those categories won’t change. Only, you and I, as mother and son, will be closer. I am cheating on him as much as I do when I make you dinner as well as him. It is my duty to fulfill both of your needs and he knows that.”
“Ah…” he said, and looked down at his plate.
Jake came home shortly after we finished dinner and Robbie disappeared into his room. It seemed like he was nervous around his father in a way he had never been before. I thought it was cute and thoughtful of him to consider his father so much. His father, however, didn’t consider him when he fucked me, so why shouldn’t Robbie do the same?
The next morning I lay sleeping in bed and Jake kissed me before he left like he always does. It was early and I woke slowly as I heard Jake close the front door and his car leave the driveway. Robbie was still asleep. He wouldn’t need to wake for school for another half hour. I left bed and decided to visit my son, to see if he needed his mother.
I entered Robbie’s room and found him asleep. A sheet covered his body, but I could see an engorged penis beneath it. Just like Jake, Robbie was going to wake up overflowing with desire. I lifted the sheet and found Robbie in his boxer shorts. His penis had navigated its way out through the slit in the front of the shorts and was fully erect. I kneeled next to my son’s bed, as though in prayer, and took his penis in my mouth. I licked and sucked at it, trying to quench the desire my son didn’t even knew he had yet. He woke after only a few seconds.
“Mom, oh mom, please….yes….” he said when he looked down to see me devouring his cock. But then he began to emerge from his daze, “Where’s dad?” he suddenly asked, partly sitting up.
“Your dad’s gone to work. Don’t worry about him. This is about you.”
I continued to suck on his penis and he began to thrust his hips and fuck my face. He was moaning in pure joy and I felt fully like a good mother in that moment.
“Mommy, I want to be inside of you again…I want to cum inside of you again like yesterday,” he whispered.
“Okay, baby,” I said. And I stood up and took off my nighty so that he could see my fully nude body. I then clasped his underwear and pulled them down and off the bed. “Just stay still baby, mommy will do the work.” With this, I climbed atop my son so that he see my chest and watch as my torso lowered down upon his penis. When he felt himself slip inside he moaned again.
“Oh God, mom, that feels amazing,” he said.
“I know, baby. Anything for you, my baby boy,” I said, as I began to hump him to tempt his cum into my body. “Don’t hold back, Robbie. Cum into your mommy’s pussy. Mommy wants all of your cum in her wet pussy, baby. Tell me you want to cum in your mommy’s pussy, Robbie!” I ordered him, as I sat on him, gyrating faster on his small twin bed.
“I want to cum inside your pussy, mommy. I’ve always wanted to cum inside you. You’re so beautiful, mom. You’re perfect, I can’t believe how PERFECT you are,” he shouted as he came. He had lasted more than thirty seconds this time.
“Thank you, darling,” I told him. “I think you are perfect too. And remember, whenever you need me, whenever you need my body, just take it. It’s yours to play with, my love. So long as we are alone, my body is not mine, but yours. Now, it’s time to get showered and ready for school.” I raised myself off of his cock and picked up my nighty from the floor. “I’ll make you breakfast,” I said as I left the room.
That day I worked around the house and thought about what had transpired between my son and I. It had been a while since I’d had sex two times in a short period like that. It was fun to remember how sexy I used to feel under the crush of my husband’s lust. Robbie, now, was just the same. And his dirty talk, remembering Robbie’s flash of dirty talk made my pussy momentarily wet. Hearing my son’s sexual thoughts, uncensored, was glorious. I felt so close to him; I felt like our honesty had reached a peak during intercourse.
But I didn’t allow my thoughts to drift too far astray. What I was doing was out of duty; it was for Robbie. It was not about me or my pleasure.
In the afternoon Robbie came home from school, but I didn’t hear. I was standing over the kitchen sink and the water was running loudly. Suddenly, I felt his hands wrap around my belly and clasp.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “hi, honey, how was school?”
“It was awful, mom,” he said, his hands moving down below my belly button and in between my legs where he palmed my pussy beneath my bunched up skirt, “all I could think about was you and how I want you.”
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