"Morning Mom," said Chris as he walked into the kitchen.
Heather, Chris' mother, turned and inspected her son with a grin on her face. "Well don't you look nice," she said.
"Oh yeah, just great," said Chris sarcastically. He laid the electronic PDA that he was carrying on the breakfast bar and then he turned about a couple of times with his arms out flung to show off his work clothes. He was wearing the uniform of a local delivery service. The tan safari shirt and shorts he was sporting were accented with red lettering and stripes. The clothes were meant to be loose fitting and comfortable, but they looked as if they were painted onto Chris' well-muscled physique.
Swaying her hips suggestively, Heather walked over to her son. She rested her hand on the swollen head of Chris' cock where it stuck above the waistband of his shorts and said, "Now this part of your appearance may not fit Mrs. Smith's Delivery Service's rules of dress."
Chris smiled as his mother rubbed the head of his cock as if she were polishing a wooden knob and said, "I sort of woke up with a problem this morning and it won't go away."
Heather snorted. "You seem to have this problem at all times of the day and night, and as much as I'd like to help you, I don't want you to be late for your first day of work." Chris had turned eighteen and this was to be his first day of work at a summer job before he started college.
Chris shook his head. "I've got plenty of time." He picked up the PDA. "All I have to do is sign in on this thing - it has a wireless Internet connection - and it tells the company that I'm ready to go. After that, they send me instructions. It even has a GPS receiver to tell them where I am."
Heather smiled and squeezed Chris' cock. "Isn't high tech wonderful?" she said. She smiled into his bedroom eyes. "It'll give us time for an early fuck."
Heather was wearing a fluffy cotton bathrobe, and from long experience Chris knew that the robe would be the only thing she was wearing. He parted the top of the robe and cupped her full breasts in the palms of his hands, at the same time he strummed her nipples with his thumbs. Heather shrugged off her robe and tossed it over a nearby stool. She grabbed her son's cock and pulled him across the kitchen where she hopped up onto a counter and spread her legs. Chris pushed his shorts and underpants down just in time for a gush of precum to wash over the head of his cock. He lubricated two of his fingers with the clear liquid and deftly spread it on the inner lips of his mother's pussy. He kissed her tenderly and Heather responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and thrusting her tongue into his mouth. In a couple of minutes Chris could tell by his mother's eager lips and rapid breathing that she had become as hot and horny as he had been since he'd awakened.
Heather sighed as Chris sunk the first half-dozen inches of his huge cock into her pussy. She leaned back against a cabinet and swayed her hips in time to his thrusts. She loved the way her son's cock filled her completely. It made her clit vibrate and massaged her g-spot at the same time. She began to orgasm almost immediately. Chris felt the pulling contractions of Heather's pussy around his cock. There was no reason for him to hold back so he began to fuck faster and faster.
Heather was in the middle of yet another extended cum when she saw Chris' eyes glaze over and his back start to arch. She knew that in another second or two cum would be squirting out of her pussy, coating her legs an probably dripping all over Chris' shorts. "Chris, honey," she said. "Don't cum inside me and make a mess."
"Uhhh... OK," was all he could manage to say as Chris withdrew his cock. With his shorts tight around the bulging muscles of his legs, Chris had to waddle backwards to escape from between his mother's thighs. His hand automatically began to jerk along the length of his erection as he sought some place to cum that wouldn't mean a long and messy clean up operation. He got turned toward the kitchen sink just as the first shot of milky-white stuff erupted from his cock, arced through the air and landed with a splat on target. That shot was followed by a dozen others and then Chris had to take little waddling baby steps ever closer to the sink as the volume and velocity of his ejaculations began to lessen. Finally Chris' cock was over the sink itself and he ran his hand down the length of his jutting monster in order to milk out the last dollop of cum. Even that last drop was more than an ordinary man would have produced altogether.
Chris grabbed a paper towel and began to clean off his wilting cock. He heard a sort of choking sound from the other side of the kitchen, and when he turned he saw his mother with her hand clasped over her mouth. She looked as though she was having some sort of fit. "Are you alright?" he asked.
His mother removed her hand and burst out in a fit of giggles. "You looked so funny," she gasped between fits of laughter, "waddling around like that, looking for someplace to shoot off." Now she practically cackled.
"Ha, ha, very funny," said Chris. He grabbed the sink's rinse hose and threatened his mother with its business end.
"Don't you dare," she said, trying unsuccessfully to sound like a stern parent. "I have to get ready for work." She jumped off the counter, grabbed her robe, and headed for the door to their dining room. The sight of his mother's tight, heart-shaped buns was too tempting a target though. Chris got her in the rear with a blast of cold water just as she was leaving the kitchen. Heather shrieked and ran from the room.
Chris finished cleaning the sink and checked in for work on his PDA. Immediately he was directed to a supermarket where he picked up several bags of groceries for a Mrs. Brown, who lived on the well-to-do side of town. He grabbed the keys for his company delivery van and headed out.
Chris turned off the residential road onto a paved drive that wound its way along side an acre-sized lawn. He pulled to the rear of a two-story house that looked large enough to hold most of the residents of his middleclass neighborhood. With his arms full of grocery bags, Chris walked to the delivery door and rang the bell. Shortly, a stooped little old lady who was wearing a cotton print dress and crisp apron answered the door. "I'm Mrs. Brown," she said. "Please come in."
Chris entered an immaculate kitchen and placed the groceries on an island counter in the center of the room. "Now it will just take me a minute to check the order," said Mrs. Brown. She slowly began to examine the contents of the bags.
Chris took one look at Mrs. Brown's arthritic hands as she struggled to lift a heavy can from one of the bags and he jumped to help. "Why don't you check off the items as I put them away for you?" he said.
"That's very nice of you," said Mrs. Brown. They chatted as Mrs. Brown verified her order and Chris put the groceries in their proper place in the nearby pantry. In the manner of sweet little old ladies everywhere she managed to learn his name, where he'd gone to grade school and where he was going to college, as well as his mother's name and the name of her business. When they were finished she said, "Wait right here, Chris. I'll be back in a minute." As she departed the kitchen into a short hallway a man passed her coming the other way. He was a pear shaped guy in his mid-twenties with spiky, blonde tipped hair and several earrings. "Chris, this is my grandson, Victor," Mrs. Brown called over her shoulder.
"Hi," said Chris.
"Hi," said Victor, and that was the extent of their conversation. An awkward silence ensued that was relieved only when Mrs. Brown returned.
"Here you are," she said, giving Chris a twenty-dollar bill.
Chris looked at the money. "You don't have to pay me, I'm sure the company bills you for the service."
Mrs. Brown laughed. "Don't be silly, it's your tip."
"Oh, thanks very much," said Chris, feeling a bit foolish as he put away the bill.
As Chris left her home, Mrs. Brown said, "You're a sweet boy, Chris. I'll be sure to ask for you next time."
He worked steadily through the day until about four when his PDA told Chris to report to Mrs. Smith at her office. Mrs. Smith's Delivery Service was housed in a nondescript one-story brick building. Most of the building was a warehouse fronted by a customer entrance and service counter. Chris parked his delivery van in the company lot and walked into the warehouse through the employee's entrance. Mrs. Smith's office was a walled off section of the warehouse, and when Chris knocked on the door he had to wait for a buzz to tell him that an electrically actuated lock had been opened.
Mrs. Smith was actually June Smith, a woman around forty years of age. She was tall and slim and wore her blonde hair in a business-like perm. Her very neatly arranged desk dominated the small office. When Chris entered she smiled at him and said, "Hello Chris, how did your first day go?"
"Hi," said Chris. "It went OK, I guess. There's nothing wrong is there?" He wondered if he'd screwed up someone's delivery.
June came from around her desk. She was wearing a navy blue, sleeveless dress with matching pumps. She motioned to a chair at the side of the desk. "No, nothing's wrong. Please have a seat."
.... There is more of this story ...