Chapter 27

My daughter made me count all of my mistakes. In total, there were 23 missed spots in the lawn where I didn’t cut it evenly. A lot of them were pretty obvious mistakes. It’s kind of like reading something that you wrote. You miss the mistakes, but everyone else immediately finds them.

I felt like such a dumb bunny for missing some of them. They were pretty obvious when Julie showed them to me.

Jim and the boys watched from a picnic table on our back patio. Jim came over and showed me how to “edge” a straight line in the sidewalk around the road. Naturally, the church started while I was in the process, and dozens of cars pulled into the parking lot. They all saw me doing my job. I tried not to look up and just remained focused on the task at hand.

I reflected on the fact that my neighbors would probably ALWAYS look down their noses at me and think I was an absurd, naughty lady. The church would as well. Just like with my sons, we’d passed the point where they would “forget” or let me live it down. I decided I might as well stop worrying about what Mrs. Johnson thought of me because she probably thought I was a piece of shit and the world’s worst mom, and it was unlikely I’d change that in the next nine months.

Once we were done, my daughter let me rub cream on my cuts, sunburn, and booboos in the kitchen while she took a shower and cleaned herself up.

I asked if I could take a shower when my daughter returned wearing a wrap-around towel and a towel over her wet hair. “Nope, I would have, but you got off way too lightly, Brittany. What are you making for dinner?”

“Dad’s stew,” I said. It was beef stew, but we called it “Dad’s stew.” It was my husband’s favorite dish, consisting of A savory gravy with carrots, pearl onions, baby potatoes, and chunks of beef. Jim could probably eat it seven days a week, but the kids got tired of it all the time.

“Make me a hamburger, and ask Dewey and Reese what they want,” she said firmly. She told me I could save the stew for Dad in individual bowls in the fridge and to start asking them what they prefer instead of just making whatever I wanted. “I see today that I’ve been a little lax on you, Brittany. Where did that get me? An embarrassing half-ass job on the lawn!”

“Your mother doesn’t do anything HALF-ASS; she does everything ALL-ASS,” Jim entered the kitchen and sat at the dining room table. He was joking, but I knew he thought my ass was way too big. I blushed. “I smell stew!” he said excitedly. He said, “I’d like to make a reasonable request. How about you and your mom kiss and make-up. She is tired from mowing the grass and making dinner.”

“I love you, Brittany, and I am only hard on you because that’s my role. You know that?”

“Yes, and I consent to it,” I agreed. It was a hot, difficult job but I was proud of myself for completing the task that I was assigned. I also learned how hard it was for Jim and Dewey to mow the lawn.

LATER THAT DAY -

After dinner, I performed a few reasonable requests for my husband and son. Julie did a few as well. Some of them involved using my Randy Ellington-shaped Dildo on myself. It was supposed to be educational but it was also deeply humiliating to fuck myself in front of others. I couldn’t help getting turned on. Everyone noticed how easy it was for me to get wet. Dewey said it looked like I had a runny nose coming out of my pussy.

My daughter explained very clearly that was girl cum, and it was perfectly natural. However, Dewey was right - it did look like I had a snotty pussy. I couldn’t stop smiling because that’s what I do when I get embarrassed. My family assumed I was only smiling because I was enjoying performing the requests, and that led to them giving me more requests (which only made me smile harder).

Jim thought the line “Keep a Randy handy” was clever and requested a hand job.

“How about one of you jerks me off? I can’t stand this any longer,” Jim had a raging boner in his pants. I’d never seen him stay that hard in the bedroom. I guess he was thoroughly enjoying himself. I looked at Julie, and she nodded her approval. I started to take my husband into his room to give him one.

“You can do that out here. You just masturbated for them. Requests are done out in the open, or have you forgotten Brittany?”

My daughter shocked me when she said that. I felt like this was something I should do with Jim in private. He was asking for Triple Lemonade but calling it a “Hand Job” made it sound dirtier.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I agreed. “Jim, do you still want me to do it?”

Jim thought about it and said, “When in Rome.” He sat back in his seat and waited for me to give him a hand job. He didn’t unzip his pants. He wanted me to do that. Usually, with boys, I give hand jobs at school. They are already naked or have their peckers out for me to play with. I unzipped my husband while he sat at the dinner table and started jerking him off. I stared at his dick intently while I did.

“Dad! Nobody wants to see your pecker,” Reese was uncomfortable, but my daughter reminded the boys that she wouldn’t tolerate body shaming, and she had spent the entire day letting them see her pussy. “I’ve seen both of your cocks before. You can handle seeing your Dad’s dick.”

Jim was hard, and he usually didn’t take long to cum. I didn’t think it would take long. I stroked him at a medium pace.

“You jerk off boys at school?” My husband was dismayed that things went that far.

“Yes, it’s called triple lemonade, Jim,” I blushed. I knew it sounded awful when I was explaining it to my husband. It was different at school, because everyone seemed to think it was perfectly normal.

I knew he might consider it cheating on him. I probably would have thought the same thing if I had heard a married woman was giving hand jobs. It was expected as part of the Program. I was sensitive to the fact that none of that had been explained to Jim before I signed up for this.

We were having such a fantastic day that I didn’t want it to end with him getting upset again.

“That makes sense. Lemonade is when you touch yourself; Double Lemonade is they touch you, and Triple Lemonade is that you touch them. “What about you, Julie? Do you give Triple Lemonade?”

“I do.”

“How many dicks a day would you say you jerk off?” Jim asked with a smart assed expression on his face. He was understandably perturbed.

“Not that many. Yesterday, we really got started, and because we had to work at the reasonable requests booth, I probably pulled off a dozen guys?”

Jim’s eyes rolled a little. I knew he was getting ready to cum. His face starts to shake when he is getting ready to shoot his load like he is about to blast off and run out of the room. He reminds me of a chihuahua when it’s humping your leg. He starts slobbering a little and biting his lip. It’s very cute (and flattering) to watch my husband’s toes curl up when he shoots his load because I was able to make him enjoy himself that much.

“What do you do with the cum after a guy shoots his wad?” he asked.

Julie answered with a very generic “Put it in a cum receptacle.”

“Jesus Christ, I went to school during the wrong time period,” Jim shook his head back and forth as if he was trying to hold out. He liked what I was doing.

“Have you ever jerked off Dewey or Reese?” he asked.

I had touched my son’s cocks, but I had never jerked them all the way off. I was about to say no when Jim shot his cum all over his jeans and on my hands. I abruptly got up and brought him a wet paper towel and then cleaned my hand.

“So, that’s it? They tease and tease at your school, get you to bust a nut, and then just hand you a napkin and let you be on your way?” Jim sounded really disappointed. “They make you practice sucking dick with that dildo, but then don’t let you do it?”

“Yep, that’s not allowed at all,” I said that they had explicitly told us that we could get suspended or disciplined if we were caught giving head.

“People do it, just not out in the open and not as part of reasonable requests. Girls will be girls, and they sneak off with their boyfriend or even a favorite teacher and do it in private,” Julie said, reminding us that was happening long before the NIS Program ever began.

“I like the Happy Ending,” Jim used a euphemism I hadn’t heard in a long time about jerking someone off to completion. It was a term they used to use in massage parlors. “I just think maybe they should teach you to spit or swallow if they really want to teach about sex?”

“We learn all about ejaculate, Dad. It’s a big part of the process, and trust me, I had a guy jizz on me the other day intentionally and get in trouble. Brittany had a guy shoot a load between her tits, and the teacher suspected he did it on purpose but gave him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Goddamn, what were you doing, titty fucking him?” Jim seemed a little jealous when he asked me that question but more mystified that things could get that serious.

“Accidents happen, and yes, I think you were ghosting him, weren’t you?”

“What’s ghosting?” Jim asked. My pulse started racing. We had performed a lot of naughty requests, but my sons had not asked to ghost either of us. I assumed that was just a line they didn’t want to cross with us because we were blood-related.

“Can I show Dad?” Reese stood up.

“On me or Brittany?”

Jim’s mind was boggling. If you could see inside his head, I was sure gears were turning, and wood was burning as he tried to make sense of the exchange between his son and daughter.

“Your pretty face will do nicely, Sis.”

“Fine, but don’t cum on my face,” Julie said as she got down on her knees, held her mouth open, and looked up at her brother with her pretty blue eyes. She kept them nice and wide and fluttered them a little.

“The idea is you get to beat your meat while looking at their faces,” Reese pulled his jeans down about halfway and started jerking off just over his sister’s face.

“You can get as close as you want, as long as you do not touch and don’t shoot your load.”

“This seems like slow torture,” Jim observed as he put his cock away and zipped his pants. He couldn’t look away. Reese expertly handled his own cock. He knew what he liked better than anyone else would have. My son brought his empty palm up to his dick when he was close and then deftly and quietly filled his hand with an incredible amount of semen.

“Jesus, Someone alert Noah. He may have to build another Goddamned ark and load it two by two, so the fucking animals don’t drown in semen,” Jim commented on the incredible amount of cum that his son had just deposited in his own hand. It was funny, and we all laughed at Jim’s joke despite the fact that it was unthinkable a week earlier that any of us would watch the other masturbate in the kitchen. It was the kind of levity needed to make this kind of experience fun instead of super awkward.

“It’s as easy as that,” Julie smiled, got back up off the floor, and sat down in her chair like nothing big had just happened. It was, to my knowledge, the first time her brother came in front of her.

“I feel like for people who are trying to teach people about the benefits of sex; you are training a generation to fuck without fucking. They’ll go through this training and never realize you put the cum IN the pussy to make a baby.”

“There has to be limits at school, Dad. If everything goes, then it really would be the orgy you seemed to think it was when I brought up joining. There are limits precisely because putting that pecker into the pussy of a high school girl will get her pregnant and mess up her world and possibly the father’s life. I don’t want to walk around all day, drenched in jizz and stinking of cum. There are levels of consent in NIS, and this ghosting is about as far as it gets.”

“That’s called a triple strawberry or a quadruple Royale with Cheese?” Jim guessed the name wrong. I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not to ridicule the nicknames they gave the standard requests at Julie’s school. It’s hard to tell sometimes when Jim is being serious or facetious.

“No, that’s just called ghosting or a ghost, BJ,” Julie smiled politely and took a sip of her water. I think she wanted to laugh at her father’s joke, but she didn’t want to encourage him to make fun of the Program’s unofficial names for standard requests.

“So, the choices, or you can do it yourself and think about shooting a load on a pretty face, or you can have it done for you, but the woman won’t open her mouth and let you think about sticking it in her mouth?”

“We aren’t supposed to, but some of us do. There are other options, like ghost doggy,” Julie said coyly.

“Oh, can I show Dad?” Dewey asked.

“On me or Brittany?”

“Brittany!”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Dewey?” I said as I stood up, bent over, spread my ass cheeks, and waited.

“I consent!” Dewey may have misunderstood what I was asking. I wanted him to consider the implications of simulating something this sexual with his mother. However, he simply consented without a second thought. My son took his pants down to his ankles. He was wearing silly underwear with superheroes, making him seem very immature.

“I just meant this seems like a more advanced request. Do you really want to do it with me?” I said.

“Yeah! I was afraid to ask because I thought you guys would think I am a pervert,” he said as he stood over me.

“We don’t think you are a pervert, Dewey!” Julie replied quite seriously before adding, “We KNOW you are a pervert!” with a snicker. “Brittany, turn around so Dad can watch!”

I turned so that my husband could see my ass and pussy. I stuck my ass out and stood there.

“So, you don’t actually act like a dog or get down into doggy style?” Jim studied the position.

“No, I don’t think so; at least no one has asked me to do it. They just want to see our pussy and ass and pretend they are going to cum on our back,” Julie said as my youngest son pulled his little pecker as hard as he could.

I noticed that Dewey squeezed and pinched the tip of his cock, and then he ran his hand down the base once slowly like he was squeezing cum out of a toothpaste tube before pinching his head. I’d never seen anyone jerk off that way.

His penis was small, even smaller than his father’s. I didn’t want to body shame him, but it reminded me of a mushroom with a big fat head and a tiny stalk. I call it a penis because it didn’t really look like a “dick” to me.

We had to look ridiculous like this. Here I was, this 5’11 big woman with admittedly balloon-shaped tits, bent over and offering my rump to a scrawny boy that barely weighed 100 pounds, sopping wet with his tiny pecker.

“Jesus, Dewey, would you please finish? I am getting tired of watching,” Reese encouraged his brother to finish but just talking to him only made it harder for Dewey to get his rocks off.

“You aren’t helping by talking, Reese,” Dewey said in frustration. He asked me to pucker my asshole and wink my pussy. I obliged my son. I couldn’t do it rapid fire, but I contracted my asshole muscles and blew him a little kiss with it and tried to flex my pussy lips.

“You can get as close as you want, Dewey, without actually touching,” I spoke to him softly and without being crass. Dewey told me to get lower, and I went to my knees. He followed me down and got extremely close. I felt the tip of his hand bumping my butt now and then, but it was so slight that it wasn’t worth complaining about. It had been over five minutes, and the boy was still pulling his pud.

“Talk dirty,” he insisted.

I wanted to say that was another request altogether but in the interest of helping him ejaculate. “Go on Dewey, look all you want. Can you jerk it for me? Can you cum for me?”

I wasn’t sure if I should do that or not. Julie didn’t stop me. I wasn’t sure if that was even ‘talking dirty’ by anyone’s standards. I’d never done that with Jim and he had never talked dirty to me during sex, either.

“Oh yeah,” Dewey responded really well to what I said, and picked up his pace. He began furiously stroking his tiny cock.

“Do it, baby. Come on, show me that cum! I want to see you explode. You’ve gotten me turned on before. Is that turning you on?”

Dewey pulled his dick back but kept stroking it. He moved his face close to my pussy. He was close enough that he could smell it and probably lick it If he stuck his tongue out. I cringed a little and involuntarily puckered my asshole. Then he shot his load in his hand while staring hard at my asshole. I was flattered and a little disgusted with myself that my son had just used me as the inspiration to get himself off.

I was still grappling with the idea that my purpose in the Program was to educate and normalize sexuality. I knew guys got off to me by “ghosting” over me. However, there was something horrifying about realizing my own son had used my body for that purpose.

I had never seen my butt as “sexy.” Anal play was never something I did with my husband. The idea that it could be an erogenous zone was still new to me. Dewey seemed fascinated with my ass, and at first, that was amusing.

The one thing that I landed on was that it was too late to do anything about it. It was done now. Dewey had sniffed my butt hole earlier, and he had just masturbated while staring at it.

There was no going back. What was done was done. Julie didn’t seem to think it was that big of a deal, anyway. I smiled and tried to look on the bright side. My son was open enough to share his interests, and I didn’t want to shame him further by reminding him that I was his mother and that was ‘naughty’.