Awakening on Titwhistle Lane CH. 08

CHAPTER 8 – The Intervention: MILF's good intentions backfire.

Stephanie Sizemore paced from their kitchen to living room and back again, biting her nails and thinking. She'd hardly slept the night before; fighting through fitful dreams of uncontrollable climaxes and having to explain herself to the police. For a moment, she paused and wrinkled her forehead in obvious distress – the police – what if I Connie tells someone? The very thought of having to explain her lustful, illicit desire for her son's huge cock was more than the woman could bear.

Over the past 24 hours she'd barely said two words to Damian. How could she? She'd run into Connie's bedroom like a banshee, her own cum covering her legs and dress, and screamed for Damian to fuck her. It's not sane! Mother's don't want to suck and fuck their sons, she told herself for the hundredth time...but yet, she did. She did want to feel that monster prick wedged up her cunt. She wanted to see the head swell just before plastering her face with a load of precious cum. She'd not slept due to fear of reprisal or shame over what she'd said, but mostly out of heathen lust. Steph's body was on fire: her pussy lips thick with passion, and her vagina running with the naughty images that constantly occupied her mind.

Damian had been unusually quiet, fearing his mother was mad at him for giving into Mrs. Bustle's overpowering charms. He'd never been so sexually charged, but to have his mother walk in, rather run in, while he was spraying cum like a firefighter at a bonfire – well – it was beyond belief. It was certainly not something he'd soon forget.

Looking back at the recent, unsettling event, Damian was torn between beaming in youthful triumph and cowering in shamed disgrace. The young man was so torn...so confused, yet, life goes on, and even now he was mowing Mrs. Pearl White's yard as he'd done a dozen times.

Stephanie focused on the droning hum from their mower, knowing it and her son were just a few houses away. She stepped from the living room to their front porch and looked in the direction of Mrs. White's home. Damian was hard at work, pushing the lawnmower back and forth over her expansive yard. He paused periodically to stoop and pluck a dandelion from the sod, before continuing the process of grooming the woman's yard.

From a distance, Steph was unable to get a sense of her son's mood, but was pleased to see he was busy. Perhaps it'll just blow over, she wished. But then, just as the thought had drifted through her mind, she saw Emily Ravenbach leave her home and walk swiftly to Pearl's. "That's odd," Stephanie noted. "I wonder what she's up to?"

She watched as Damian acknowledged the visitor, stopped the mower, and approached her. They bantered back and forth for a few seconds before Emily hugged the boy and climbed the steps of the stately White home. It appeared Pearl had been expecting the Ravenbach woman, as she greeted her at the door and welcomed her inside. Beyond her prying eyes, Steph wondered what the neighbors might be discussing. It was something she typically would have waved off as nothing, but today, with her anxiety and paranoia running wild, she fixated and ruminated on it.

Puzzled, Mrs. Sizemore lingered for another minute, watching her handsome son. She was so proud of him. He was thoughtful and kind, doing his best to make others happy. She'd heard it from so many and seen it herself. Even as much as her friends teased and tossed around innuendo, Stephanie knew they loved Damian and were helping to shape him into the man he would become. However, if Steph had known how much shaping her friends were doing, she may have intervened before finding Connie, covered in cum, coaxing Damian to pound her.

Stephanie was still undecided in the events of yesterday – had they made her angry, frustrated, horny, or a combination of all of these...and more? She couldn't blame Damian, not really. He was an 18-year-old boy, fueled by hormones he scarcely understood. It was perfectly normal for him to be sexually active. How could he not be with a cock the size of a billy club and balls with a seemingly endless supply of semen? What did bother the middle-aged woman was the way she'd teased her son. She'd tried to pass it off as harmless fun, but she knew...she knew the titillating harassment was igniting a fire in her loins that seemed unquenchable. Maybe she'd driven Damian into Connie's arms and the Bustle woman was not at fault. Anyway Stephanie tried to analyze the dilemma, yet the answer came out the same -- she mustn't succumb to her immoral needs and fuck her son. It was as plain and simple as that. She couldn't...she wouldn't...but oh, how desperately she wanted to.

"You're a sick bitch, Steph," she grumbled, turning to walk back into her house, but as she did she noticed another of her neighbors headed toward Pearl's house. "What the hell," she hissed.

It was Mrs. Wentworth, and she looked like a woman on a mission. She walked quickly, her head down and large bosom swaying rhythmically. She too stopped to have a brief discussion with Damian before entering the aforementioned residence. Not long after, Connie Bustle and Alice Bottomley exited their respective domiciles and made their way down the street toward Pearl's, as well. Alice caught Stephanie staring and issued a reluctant wave.

They're up to something, the Sizemore woman surmised. "Why haven't I been invited?" she questioned aloud to herself. "I'll tell you why, Steph. It's because they're talking about you and your perverted ways."

The idea initially incensed the woman, but slowly anger gave way to concern. More than anything Steph's curiosity was piqued and she had to know what the others were saying. Quickly returning inside, Stephanie gave herself a once over in the mirror. She looked fine; sun-quenched locks pulled back in a ponytail, lipstick a pale shade of rose, haltered tits slung tight with more than enough cleavage, and a loose pair of cotton shorts. She appeared like any other mother along the lane, ready for a beautiful sunny day with family and friends...but was she?

Laying caution aside and trying to appear innocuous, Stephanie Sizemore hustled down Titwhistle Lane. Her heart thumped and pulse raced with each hurried footstep, causing her ears to ring and vision to blur. Outside the large, colonial styled home, Steph paused to catch her breath, and as she did, the tinnitus ebbed and her eyes cleared.

Damian had seen her coming and whipped the lawnmower around to see what she wanted. The two met near the front steps and the boy killed the engine. His brown hair was mussed and his bronzed skin lightly covered in a fine mist of sweat. His green eyes searched for why she might be there but nothing in her appearance or demeanor gave him a clue.

"What's up?" he asked, pulling off his gloves.

"Oh...got lonely...thought I'd see how your day was going?"

"Not bad...not bad. I hope to be done around here in a few hours. Once the mowing is done, I'll move to the..."

Steph cut Damian short and asked if he knew what was happening in the White home. "I saw some of my friends head this way a few minutes ago. Did they all go inside?"

"Um...I think so. I saw three or four of them. Why?"

Mrs. Sizemore casually switched from one foot to the other, anxious to get inside. "Okay then, I guess I'll just join them."

"Well, alright...maybe we can have lunch together when I'm done." As Damian made the suggestion, his mother sidestepped him and climbed the few stairs to the porch. Hoping he still had her attention, Damian called after her, "I think we should talk. I think..."

Sadly, the boy's words appeared to fall on deaf ears. He watched Steph slide through the front door and she was gone. "Oh well," he sighed, starting the mower to complete his work.

Inside the front entryway, the Sizemore woman found the house to be eerily quiet. She stood motionless and strained to hear her friend's voices. Slowly she moved forward, inching toward a large parlor where she suspected they would be meeting. Nearing a pair of oversized sliding doors, Stephanie realized her hunch was correct. Though the doors were closed there was just enough of a gap that she could hear their voices filtering into the hallway. Steph tiptoed as close as she dared and angled her ear accordingly.

"Well, I for one am no angel," Connie said, which drew snickers from Alice and Emily, "but I was shocked. I mean...really, truly shocked."

Stephanie was sure she knew what they were discussing but could only imagine what was actually happening inside the cordoned off room.

Pearl's voice could suddenly be heard offering a return to a more serious tone. "Now ladies, please. This is no laughing matter if what Connie says is true. So please, Connie, tell me again what Mrs. Sizemore said."

The older woman was a widow of many years and lived in the grand old home alone. She was the matriarch of the lane and had seen her share of comings and goings, but this was the first she'd heard of anything as outlandish as what Mrs. Bustle was purporting.

Connie made eye contact with each of the women before she answered Pearl's pointed question. "She said, and I'm not sure these are the exact words, but she said nobody was fucking her son before she did."

"My heavens," Pearl gasped. "And how did this come about? I mean, what was going on to have her make such an outrageous statement?"

From the other side of the door, Steph could just imagine the ladies having a field day at her expense. That is, all but poor Pearl, who sounded a bit out of the loop. Sizemore pictured the older woman, who was near 70, her slim figure wrapped in a shawl even though it was 90 degrees outside. Stephanie had long suspected Mrs. White of being far less of a prude than she portrayed, but who knew?

"I think Connie was about the screw the young man, Pearl. At least, that's what I gathered from the conversation we had last night," Maggie Wentworth said, hoping to make things a bit clearer for their aged host.

"Connie, is that true? Were you going to have relations with the boy mowing my lawn?" Mrs White asked, incredulously.

Mrs. Bustle, without the least bit of shame, answered in the affirmative. "Well, I'll tell ya Pearl, if you'd gotten a hold of a pecker as big as that boy's you'd be wanting some relations too." Again, the circle of women appeared to chuckle, but this time Mrs. White's definitive squeak of a laugh joined in, at least Steph was sure she had.

When the women managed to get themselves under control, Maggie pressed forward with their unwritten agenda. "Okay ladies, Stephanie is our dearest friend and I know each and every one of us here today loves her boy too. Therefore, it behooves us to intervene and help them before something catastrophic happens."

"Maybe it already has," Emily chimed in. "They were alone all last night. Maybe Steph got her wish and rode that stud."

"I doubt it," Maggie confirmed. "I talked with Damian briefly before coming in and he said he and his mother really didn't get much of a chance to talk last night or this morning."

Emily furthered her opinion by stating what some of the others were thinking. "My point exactly. Ain't much talking going on 'cause she's humping the kid."

"Oh Emily, let's get back to why we're here. Stephanie will listen to us. She'll want to do the right thing," Mrs. Wentworth continued.

"So...an intervention. That's what you're saying? Right?" asked Alice, trying to confirm where they went from here.

"Yes, don't you all agree?" Pearl questioned, clutching a well-worn shawl to her neckline. The woman was pretty for her age. She'd done well to maintain a moderately trim figure, in addition to toned arms and legs. Her natural breasts were large and heavy, and had it not been for the ancient bra that looked like two missile silos, they would have hung to her waist. Pearl wore her graying hair short with a stylish little curl across her brow. At the moment, her steel-blue eyes were staring from beneath her horn-rimmed glasses, seeking confirmation from the circle of friends. She nodded approvingly as she went from woman to woman, obtaining a final consent. "Okay, I'll make a call..."

Stephanie Sizemore knew an invitation when she heard one and burst through the sliding doors. It was quite an entrance, not unlike the one she'd done yesterday, but without the naked bodies, flying cum or vase. Her unexpected trespass brought a few well deserved gasps from her friends. "So...what y'all up to?" she asked, imitating Ms. Ravenbach.

Surprised beyond belief, Maggie blurted out, "How long have you been there? Have you been listening the entire time?"

"And if I had?" Stephanie shot back.

"Stephanie, dear, we're concerned," Mrs. White said tenderly. "We're your friends."

The tone did help Stephanie calm down, as she took a seat when invited by Alice to join her on a long, plush couch. Dropping onto a cushion, the women slid their chairs closer to form a tight circle around their troubled neighbor and friend.

"I don't know what to say," Stephanie began. "Where do I begin?"

Pearl sat next to Steph and put her arm around her shoulders, "We're here for you. When did this start? Your...your trouble with Damian."

"It's not a trouble," Stephanie explained. "It just kind of started as a joke a few weeks ago. I caught him jerking off and I happened to get a look at his...ah...his penis. It was so much bigger than I had ever imagined."

Connie quickly interjected her two-cents worth and confirmed what she thought none of the other women knew for themselves. "Let me just stop you right there for a second, Stephanie. Listen ladies, that boy's packing a beast. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you, Steph, to have that swingin' meat so close all the time and not be able to enjoy it. I got one taste of it and can't stop thinking about having seconds."

"Goodness me, Connie," Pearl wheezed. "Such talk."

"Well, anyway..." Mrs. Sizemore continued, pulling Pearl back from the brink of fainting. "I saw this 'beast' as Connie so appropriately called it and I couldn't put it from my mind. I've been fucking everything in sight; the bedpost, my washer, anything that will get me off. I guess I just lost my head."

"Poor thing," Mrs. White whispered, drawing Steph even closer.

"And then, yesterday happened," Steph said slowly. "I guess you know what took place at Connie's."

The circle of friends each nodded their understanding of the prior day's events. Apparently, Mrs. Bustle had wasted no time in alerting the others when she feared Stephanie was totally out of control.

"So...that's where we are. I'm struggling to know what to do with Damian and if he'll ever forgive me, and the same for you all. I just feel terrible." Stephanie's words were offered sincerely and accepted by her friends as coming from her heart.

"Steph, we're here for you," Alice said, leaning to give her friend a light peck on the cheek. "We all are," the fitness instructor continued, waving her hand to indicate all the women present.

"Thanks. It means a lot to me. It truly does...but I do have a few questions that may help me cope with this issue," said Stephanie, desiring some insight of her own.

"Sure...anything," Maggie agreed.

"Okay, where to start?" Damian's mom began, her voice almost breaking under the strain. "Connie, can you explain how Damian came to be in your bedroom, and further to that, why was he stuffing his cock down your throat?" The directness of Steph's question caught them all by surprise and brought a sense of guilt to more than one of the group.

"Um...um...it just happened. He caught me in a towel and one thing led to another and we ended up...you know...getting off," Mrs. Bustle explained, using her fingertip to lightly touch at her lips while she remembered the taste of Damian's cum. "I was only trying to help him. He obviously needed someone to take care of his trouble."

"Fair enough," the boy's mother concurred. "He's a big boy, 18 and all, but you didn't take advantage of him...not even a little bit?"

"Maybe a teensy tiny bit," Connie slowly confessed, "but I could tell he wanted it. His cock was ripping through his shorts to get at me."

"I'm sure it was. You forget I've seen it myself and am quite sure it is capable of ripping through almost anything he might wear. However, this has got me thinking. You're all so concerned about me...and rightly so. A mother shouldn't just go around boffing her son, but what of you? You're all older, well-established ladies, who have taken a special interest in Damian. I guess what I'm asking is this – how many of you have helped Damian the same way Connie did?"

Utter silence descended on the intervention. Nearly all eyes suddenly angled down...except for Stephanie's, which were tracking from friend to friend to friend. I thought as much.

When she reached Mrs. White, their eyes met in a moment of extraordinary clarity – she appeared to be the only innocent party present. Shocked horror aptly described the look that gradually spread over Pearl's face, as the gravity of the inaudible confessions gripped her. A trembling hand pressed to her lips and she offered a single, whimpering response, "Oh...my, my, my."

Stephanie suddenly felt very much in charge and allowed her own guilty longings to take a backseat for a time. Her gaze swept the small crowd again, ultimately coming to rest on Connie, who had raised her eyes to stare about at the others. "Well, don't look at me," she said, "I've done my confession."

"Good point, Connie. So...who's been stooping my son?" Mrs. Sizemore questioned boldly.

It was the Ravenbach woman who spoke up first. She'd always believed confession was good for the soul, and heaven knew she'd spent too many sleepless nights rethinking, and fantasizing, about her afternoon with Damian. "Okay...so, I didn't fuck nobody's son. Let's be clear about that. The boy's got a thing for big, black, milky tits...who would have known. Anyway, I let him watch me..." Her voice trailed off when she realized most of her new friends were staring at her in feigned disbelief. "Oh...don't you bitches judge me. I've seen y'all looking at Damian's package. I'll not feel guilty about a little bit of titty fucking."

"Titty fucking?" Stephanie repeated.

"Yeah, I wrapped these black beauties around that boy's huge cock," she began, while using her hands to cup and squeeze her milk filled breasts, "and I let him slide that monster back and forth until he erupted." She explained the encounter like it was a very rational, normal thing to do, but it still seemed to hold the other women spellbound. "What?" she finally asked, her Southern accent dripping with cynicism.

"So you didn't screw him?" Stephanie finally asked, sounding somewhat relieved.

"No. He just covered me from head to toe with cum and that was it."

Hearing of Damian's experience with Emily, Stephanie's already smoldering desires were lit anew. She instantly remembered yesterday's scene and the volume of cum her son had ejaculated over Connie, as well as her own experience with her son's slumbering explosion. Yet, she couldn't continue with such feelings. She was to be repentant, reserved...anything but carnally aware of the seeping moisture that was lubricating her inner thighs.

"Well Emily, thanks for being honest," Steph said, giving her friend a knowing nod. "Who's next? Who else has taken advantage of Damian's timid nature and naivety? Who else has tried to fuck my boy?"

"Stephanie, take it down a notch," Mrs. Wentworth cautioned. "Sometimes things just happen. It's not something we necessarily want to happen...but they just do."

"Things?" Steph countered.

"Yes...things. I would agree that your son has an itch for big tits," Maggie said, motioning to her own rack and then Emily's. "I had only offered him some lemonade – there was a tiny spill and the next thing I knew I was sucking that mushroom-sized head and he was pumping a load into my mouth. So yes, I sucked him off but I certainly didn't let him screw me," she concluded.

The women were astonished by the tale Maggie had just told. They never imagined she was capable of something so...so...taboo. However, the shocking nature of the story didn't keep Emily from questioning the older woman further.

"What did you think?" the black woman asked.

"About what?" Maggie replied, her mind reeling with the vivid memory of Damian's sticky assault.

"His load, of course. What did you think of that boy's nut?"

Stephanie interjected, knowing she should at least pretend to be alarmed. "Do we really need to go there, Emily?"

"Hell yes. You started it, and I want all the details. So, Maggie...Damian's got quite a wad...eh?"

"Oh...that, well yes. I've never had such a hard time taking a cumshot in the mouth. I can't remember the last time my husband let me suck him to completion, but I'll not soon forget the treat your son provided," Mrs. Wentworth replied in summation, while looking at Stephanie.

Again, Mrs. Sizemore was compelled to absorb a naughty tale involving her son. It did nothing to slow her heart or stop the tingling between her legs, but she knew they weren't done. "Okay, that leaves you, Alice. I saw the way you were looking at Damian's cock the day he was stung. I guess you've had a go at him as well," Steph said accusingly.

The fitness instructor sat back, breathed deeply and then spilled her guts. "I had only intended to have another look at his prick. I mean, I'd seen it but after some time thinking about it, I figured I must have been imagining things. Certainly it couldn't be as big as I remembered. So, I just had to see it again."

Emily leaned back and hummed an understanding, "Mmmm Hmmm."

"I'm not trying to make excuses but one thing led to another and before long I was sucking his dick just like Maggie."

"No sex? You didn't take him in your pussy?" Steph asked, hoping the answer was no.

"No...no, Stephanie. I promise. I just had him run that hammer-headed bat between the cheeks of my ass until he doused me with semen."

"Amazing...right?" Emily Ravenbach noted, obviously enjoying the intervention more than most.

Pearl, who had been lost to her own thoughts for several minutes, finally piped up and chided the younger women. "Surely, you all can't be enjoying this at Damian's and Stephanie's expense. We're talking about a boy and you've taken advantage of him."

Some bowed their heads, unable and unwilling to take the old woman on, but not Emily. "Pearl, the boy is 18. He's been jacking off for years. There's probably not a spot in his room that wouldn't test positive for sperm. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing when he aimed that cum-filled howitzer at me. So, spare me the crap about harming Damian. I don't know of any 18-year-old who wouldn't kill to have the experiences we've provided that boy. They both should be thanking us."

"Well, I never," Pearl huffed.

"Well, maybe you should," Emily finished.

"Okay...okay...let's not get overly personal. I'm sure Steph appreciates..." Maggie Wentworth started to say, before Stephanie got up and briskly walked away.

"Excuse me," Damian's mom pleaded. "I just need a few minutes. If you could just give me some time...I'll be right..."

The ladies watched in stunned silence, as Mrs. Sizemore swept through the double doors, closing them behind her.

"Just great," Pearl said. "Now you've gone and upset Stephanie."

* * *

Damian had watched his mother mount the steps and sneak through Pearl's front door. His curiosity pushed him to a nearby window where he could see into the home's entry, dining room and hallway. It was obvious to the boy that Stephanie was in stealth mode and didn't want the other women to know she was there. The teen watched her move slowly through the entry, and a portion of the hallway, before she disappeared from view.

Not to be kept in the shadows, Damian untied his right shoe and wound the lace around the lawnmower's throttle to keep it engaged. He didn't need his mother wondering why he'd stopped working. Then, leaving the mower running, he too climbed the steps and approached the door. It was large and white with a decorative, edged glass insert, which had areas where one could see clearly into the home. He peered between two beveled pieces of glass to see his mother standing outside a pair of double doors. She was obviously eavesdropping on what was being said inside. Her head was cocked to one side and she appeared intense.

The mother and son remained thus frozen for several minutes, until Stephanie suddenly bolted through the doors and closed them behind her. "Crap!" Damian fumed, as he quietly opened the front door and let himself in. He crept across the marble floor, leaving his shoes at the entry. Finally arriving undetected at the same twin doors, Damian did as his mother had, and leaned in, his senses eager to grasp what was happening inside the room.

It didn't take long for the young man to determine that he was, in fact, the topic of their conversation. He listened to each of the MILFs as they shared their stories and wondered what his mother was up to. She seemed rather unfazed by the sexual revelations that had just been established. Yet, to hear, and relive, the events again caused Damian's penis to thicken and grow exponentially – even against his will – the damn thing was acting on its own; single minded and determined to be set free.

Hanging on every word, the boy trembled, imagining his mother and/or all of the women would want his head on a spike. He did seem to have at least one ally in Emily Ravenbach. He recalled being seduced by the big-busted mother and the way her breasts has spewed milk like magical fountains. The mental imagery further tested the tensile strength of his shorts, as his cock pulsed and begged for release. Fighting a natural urge to unleash his prick and work it to climax, the Sizemore boy continued to listen until his mother stood unexpectedly and stormed toward him.

"Holy shit," he mouthed, frantically looking for a place to hide. Stepping two paces to his left he hugged the wall and slid beside a tall, fake ficus. As he did, Stephanie shot through the doors and fled to the nearest bathroom. A crushing need to protect his mother swept over the boy. Damian was quite sure it was his fault that she was so overwrought. He'd not intended to hurt anyone with his awkward sexuality. In the back of his mind he knew his unusual, lumbering cock would lead to nothing but trouble. Notwithstanding a mental acknowledgement that his family was in the midst of a challenging dilemma, Damian's cock remained primed and ready, groaning and twitching against its jean-lined prison. The monster was obviously ignoring everything but a selfish, wanton demand to unload its copious, milky fortune.

In a flash, the teen scooted and slid across the slick tile to the bathroom where his mother had disappeared seconds before. Outside the room, he listened intently and heard, what he interpreted to be, the anguished moans of his mother's acute distress. Twisting the ornate handle, which gave way easily, he slowly glided the door inward while peeking around its edge.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Are you okay?"

His gaze travelled across a lengthy marble counter, backed by an extensive mirror, and eventually found his mother. For the briefest of moments, she appeared to have one hand braced against the counter and the other between her legs. When Steph realized she was not alone, she snapped to attention and blubbered, "Damian? What...how...why?"

"I saw you rush in here and was worried about you. Are you okay?" he replied, while entering the space and gently closing the door behind him.

"Yeah...well, I am kind of upset. The ladies were talking..." she began, tears welling up in her eyes.

Damian moved to join his mother and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close but forgetting about the bolt that was in his pants. "What did they say?" he asked, pretending he was completely unaware.

"Just stuff – nothing for you to worry about," his mother lied, suddenly mindful of the protrusion that was pressed firmly against her midsection. "Damian, were you listening?"

The teen suddenly realized his cock was still quite stiff and jerked his hips back, relieving some direct pressure. Yet, he continued to hold Steph close, her breasts mashed against him. "I may have... Well, I did hear a bit of what was said, but..."

"Eavesdropping? You do take after your mother," Mrs. Sizemore said, lowering her hands down Damian's back to pull his hips back towards her. "I can see our little discussion was having some impact on you." She concluded her accusation by grinding her own hips gently against the boy's obvious erection.

"Mom, I didn't mean to...to be with all those ladies. You know...I just kinda stumbled into them. I'm really sorry." If Damian wasn't confused before, he certainly was now. For days his mother had been overtly sexual around him, yesterday she'd surprisingly demanded he fuck her before Mrs. Bustle, and today she seemed upset but was actively gyrating her crotch against his.

"Damian, you've got nothing to be sorry about. Those sluts in the other room are vultures. They came after you for your meat," she said, dropping one hand between them to grasp his cock. This is what they were after...and it sounds like they got it."

The boy expected his mother to release him once she'd finished her statement, but she did not. Rather, she gripped him even tighter and brought her other hand to bear on his devilishly large prick. Releasing her, Damian looked down, taking in her wondrous cleavage, before descending to her busy hands. "Um...Mom?"

"I know, Son. It's just something I have to get out of my system. It's driving me crazy. To know all my friends have tasted this," she said, giving him a rather bruising squeeze, "and not know it for myself. It's just too much. Really? What's a mother to do?"

Stephanie Sizemore had finally thrown all caution to the wind and, like her friends, was suddenly a vulture ready for some fresh meat. "Damian, I'm sorry but I've just got to..." she said, almost babbling. With skilled hands, Steph undid the belt around her son's hips. Next came the button and zipper that were depriving her eyes of their lascivious aim. "I've got to see it. Are you okay with that? Would you mind if I just took a peek at your prick?" she asked, her voice suddenly hollow and deep.

"Um...Mom?" he stammered, again.

"Just a look?" she asked, her eyes pleading, as she began lowering his shorts. "It's only fair."

The young man didn't stop his mother's advances, even though he knew he should. He played along with the woman's ruse, admitting to himself, on some level, that he was dying to expose himself to her. "I guess...I mean, if you think it's alright."

Stephanie accepted the surrender in stride, yanking both Damian's Levi shorts and plaid boxers to his ankles. His cock leapt free, the weight of it fighting gravity, as it swung right and left before balancing dangerously close to his mother's navel. Mrs. Sizemore had seen the beast before, and even felt it buried within her, but she was still shocked to see it's colossal length and mesmerizing girth. "It's bigger than I remember," she said, referring to the first time she'd seen it a few weeks ago.

"Yeah, I think you're right. It seems to be growing a little bit every day."

A wickedly dirty grin crossed Stephanie's face, as she recalled how the swaying shaft had penetrated her dripping cunt on a previous occasion. Unable to control herself, just as she hadn't then, Steph grabbed her son’s cock just below the swollen head. He moaned quietly and offered an anemic protest, which did little to stop Stephanie from pumping his cock in her fist.

"I thought you were only going to look?" he managed to say, as his head swooned and even more blood rushed to his burgeoning cock.

"I thought so too," Stephanie lied, dropping to her knees. "I better give it a once over, but a little closer...don't you think?" she asked, thirsty to get her lips around the boy's racquetball-sized head.

"Yeah, that would be good," Damian agreed, giving way to the tightness in his balls that was screaming for relief. He spread his legs slightly after kicking his clothing to one side. His testicles hung low and heavy, filled with the treasure his mother's friends had been so thrilled to extract. Looking down, Damian marveled at the sight of his mother swabbing his cock with her greedy tongue. She lubed the shaft from his balls to the rim of his glans and then back again, careful not to miss a single spot. Satisfied with the work she'd done there, she launched an all-out assault on the crown at the top of her son's staff.

She moved one hand to the base of his pulsating prick and the other to the head, encircling both gently. Suddenly she compressed the head with the grip of an iron-man, forcing blood away from the bloated mushroom. An instant later, she squeezed at the base with the same astonishing intensity. Before Damian could comprehend what had happened, Stephanie engulfed the diminished head in her mouth. She moaned deep in her throat, as she released his cock completely and a flux of volcanic blood rushed from his crotch to fill the shaft and captured head. Steph almost choked; her oral cavity filled to capacity with her son's brimming cock. It was wonderful – so warm – so stretched to a delicious tightness against her tongue and cheeks.

"Mmmph, Mmmph," she gagged, trying to swirl her tongue around the spongy tissue. "Too big," she finally said, as she wedged her teeth away from the rim.

"Sorry," Damian wheezed, his breath coming in short pants.

"Don't be silly," she said, giving the head a full-on kiss. As she did, a large dollop of sticky, clear pre-cum spilled from his slit to her painted lips. Stephanie was energized anew, the liquid acting as an aphrodisiac to heighten her already out-of-control libido. She used a fingertip to spread the elixir over her lips, before squeezing his shaft, from root to head, to bring more to the surface. "Mmmm...so good," she teased, sucking her finger deep within her mouth.

"I need this big cock, Damian," Steph said, noting her voice was rising. "I need it right fucking now!" she continued, muting her voice for only her son to hear. She stood, stepped away and shed her own clothing, leaving the halter in place. Bending over the counter, she lifted her ass high in the air and looked at her son.

He was motionless, like a curare laden dart had been shot into his neck. "I don't know...I've never..." he breathed out haltingly, while his dripping cock swung aimlessly before him.

Stephanie motioned the boy to her and pointed for him to stand behind her. She licked and coated a couple of her fingers with spit, which she used to further lube her juicy cunt. "Come here, Damian. Put your cock head right up against..." The words seem to draw the teen from the trance, and he did as he was told. Stephanie reached beneath her and balanced a meaty portion of her son's cock on her palm. The head grazed her opening and distended clit, sending a shock through her core. "Oh...that's it...that's it. Now, push," she commanded.

Damian tried to follow the orders precisely and began to thrust his hips forward; the head burying itself between the soft folds of her inner pussy.

"Uh...uh...a little slower, Stud. That's a big cock to swallow at once."

"Oh...sorry. I'll be more careful." Damian pulled back slightly, without fully removing himself from the welcoming sheath he'd just discovered. "How's this?" he asked, exerting some steady pressure that allowed Stephanie to absorb the ridiculous girth more comfortably.

"That's it. That's better – slow and easy."

For several minutes the two worked in harmony; the boy pushing a bit and then retreating to invade her cunt a bit further with the next assault. His mother did her part as well; working her ass up and down, swallowing the shaft ever so slowly. When she felt she'd taken the entire length, she looked over her shoulder and asked Damian for an update. "Have I taken it? Have I managed the whole thing?"

Damian immediately knew the answer was 'no', but he looked down to confirm an additional three or four inches were still not buried. Shaking his head in the negative, he answered, "No, still a few more inches."

"My..." Steph began. "Okay, give me the rest." She turned her attention to the mirror in front of her and watched the image of herself and son fucking...or at least trying to. "Go on, Damian," she begged, when she sensed his hesitancy.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, just be slow. Bury that fucking beast inside me."

Damian, not one to displease his mother, held her waist and plowed the last few inches into Steph's quivering frame. Finally, there was a union of pelvic bones and swollen tissue. Stephanie gasped when she felt the boy's cock-head reach its final destination. "Good," she cooed. "Now...pull it almost all the way out and slowly give it to me again."

The young man did as instructed; pulled his hips back and forth a few times, slowly using his cock like a piston, in and out of his mother's pussy. "Like that?" he asked, his legs beginning to lose their strength.

"Oh, yeah...just like that," his mother answered. Stephanie had dreamed of this moment. Not quite like this, in Old Lady Pearl's bathroom, but somewhere, anywhere that allowed a minute of privacy to taste her son's mammoth cock. Warm, slick lubricant dripped from her snatch and she wondered if it was only her or if Damian was oozing his precious load inside her. The idea nearly made her climax, but she bit her lip to hold on for a few more minutes. "Damian," she moaned.

"Yeah," he replied, equally aroused.

"Fuck me," she instructed.

"I thought I was..."

"Hard...give it to me! Bang me with that big, fucking meat stick. I want to feel it up to my throat."

Damian needed no further encouragement. He reinforced his hands at his mother's hips, braced his feet against the floor, and withdrew his cock a good 10 inches. "You sure?" he asked, before moving ahead to what he knew would be an explosive climax.

"Yes, damn it...fuck me!"

Without further warning, Damian thrust his hips forward, slamming his cock to the root inside Stephanie. Again, her breath was forced from her and she growled a low, lusty sign of approval. Damian continued the same, bucking and fucking Stephanie for all he was worth. A blended mix of their destined union pooled at the teen's feet. Knowing he was dangerously close to emptying his load, he caught his mother's eye in the mirror before them.

"You gonna cum, Baby?" she asked, her own ultimate release hanging by a thread. He couldn't even speak but nodded his head slightly. "It's okay. Give it to me when you're ready. Shoot that juicy load right into your mom's cunt."

"Oh...oh..." Damian, grunted between clenched teeth. "I'm..."

The sight and sensation of her own son finally fucking her was too much for the middle-aged woman and she began her own climax. It started as a throbbing, bursting dam between her legs that spread like a flash flood, sweeping along the length of the boy's shaft to the pit of her stomach where she felt his hot semen gushing against her inner walls.

They jerked and gyrated against each other until the spasms subsided and they were equally drained. For those few minutes, the outside world had been forgotten. They were mother and son, deeply committed to one another in more ways than they could have previously imagined. Coming back from a high, such as this, the two fought to catch their breath. Stephanie sagged heavily against the bathroom counter top, while Damian reluctantly withdrew his penis and leaned against the wall.

Seconds passed like minutes, but as they came to and their senses normalized, they realized they were not alone. As if tipped off at the same time, Stephanie and Damian rolled their heads to take in Mrs. Pearl White standing in the open doorway of the bathroom. She was pale and stark as Casper himself; yet, there was something about the wry grimace etched across her face, and the way her age-spotted hands were cupping her breasts that told the Sizemore's everything would be alright.

The End...or is it?

If you have enjoyed Damian's adventures and would like the saga to continue, please cast a vote and/or comment appropriately. Thanks for following along in this lusty tale.

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