Chapter 10: The Game Changer

Can I jerk off on you?

That was such a stupid thing to ask my mother.

I sat on the couch, my mind empty and my cock raging hard, but I didn’t bother touching it. I wanted to grab ahold of that big fucker. God damn it, I wanted to. A good jerk was something I could use right now. Why did we ever start this? Why did I let it get this far? Jenna’s dad wasn’t going to do anything to me. This was a big waste of time, and even worse—much worse—this had made things strange around my mother. What the fuck had she been thinking?

So much for pushing her, you pussy, my cock said to me, the accusation in his voice throwing shame at me from all directions. You fucking Momma’s boy!

My phone buzzed with an incoming text. I grabbed it—it was from my mother—and it read, Bring me a glass of wine.

My heart sped up, and a hollow boom echoed within my chest. I tingled all over. What did this mean? Was Mom going to end it? Or was Mom going to—

Get the wine, my cock shouted at me, and that’s what I did, striding to the kitchen with long steps as my cock bobbed up and down and side-to-side. I grabbed her glass, made sure it was full, and jogged upstairs, aware of how hard and stiff my cock felt. How long it felt. How thick it felt. I was proud of my size, but at that moment, I didn’t have a cock between my legs; I had a redwood that I was about to turn into a battering ram.

No. I slowed down as I reached Mom’s bedroom door. Not a battering ram. What an asshole I could be—driving my mother to her room. I didn’t know what was going to happen in my parents’ bedroom, but I had pushed my mother as far as I was willing to, no matter what. (So I had thought at the time.) What had I been thinking? She was my mother.

My knuckles rapped against the door, the touch was soft, and the disruption of noise was barely noticeable. It didn’t come open. Mom had shut it all the way, and when I tried the knob, I found it locked. I knocked again, harder than before, but not too hard—hard enough to make the door rattle a little. I wanted to knock harder, but my balled fingers hovered in front of the door, unable to move forward.

I was about to knock again when the door opened. First a crack, and then enough to reveal my mother in all her tank top and small panty-wearing glory. My cock, still hard, suffered an involuntary jerk that drew Mom’s glassy eyes. I had the wine in my right hand, a chardonnay from an open bottle in the fridge. Mom raised her eyes, extended one swan-like arm, and plucked the glass from my hand, our fingers touching against the stem.

“All right,” she said. “But, you can’t go to Jenna after this.” She paused. “For a week.”

“All right, what?” I asked, my mouth going dry. The question was an honest one. All right, what? She couldn’t be saying what I thought she was saying, not after walking away from me. All right, what? I only wanted to know.

“All right,” Mom said, her eyes tightening, but her voice came out meek and resigned. “You can jerk off on me.” Mom’s eyes glanced downward again. “On my butt, over my panties.”

Oh, those fucking words.

My cock jerked again, and this time the spasm registered on my face. Mom looked at me one more time—her little boy—and what I saw in her eyes told me that she didn’t see her little boy anymore. I don’t know what she saw, but it wasn’t the child she had raised.

She turned around and walked deeper into the room. I watched her taut, pear-shaped ass roll with her strides. When she reached the bed, her right knee slid onto the mattress, parting her cheeks, followed by her left knee and her left right hand. Mom crawled across her bed, prowling, her knees sliding forward, and her white-clad pussy bulge rolling between her thighs. She held her wine held in her left hand, placing the glass on the nightstand next to her white bed, then she lay down and pulled her hair over her right shoulder and waited, on the bed, with her legs slightly parted and the line of her panties creating a beacon of brightness between her thighs.

Holy fuck.

I swallowed my gathering saliva as I walked across the threshold to my parents’ bedroom. A tingle ran through my skin. This was my mother’s room. My father’s room. This is where my father slid his cock into my mother on a nightly basis. He’d go into her mouth or between her fingers, or up into the little hole between her legs and maybe the smaller one between her buns—no, my mother had to be an anal virgin. I was sure of it in the same way that a kid is sure that his mother is as pure as the Holy Spirit and always would be.

Until she lets her son jerk off on her butt.

I walked to her bed, my cock bobbing as it pushed against my shorts, creating a strain in the tip that ran down my shaft into its base. My prick had never been this hard before. I stopped at the edge of Mom’s bed, breathing hard as my heartbeat rose and my skin tingled. There was a choice to be made here, and I made it, first pushing my basketball shorts down my legs and over my feet, and then, after a quick pause as my hairs stood on end, I pushed my boxer briefs down my thighs.

Oh, god, that felt good.

The heat of my cock met the coolness of my mother’s sunlit room, soothing the numbing ache that had swollen my meat to monstrous proportions. I knew that I was big, but right now, I looked downright dangerous with this dick jutting out from below my waist and ... my shirt. My shirt. I was standing only in my shirt, like some rapey-perv who was afraid to get naked. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it to the floor as a shiver ran through me. I looked back down at my cock, and then at my mother, where she had buried her face in a white, satin-covered pillow.

Look at me, I thought, but Mom didn’t move.

I climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking beneath my weight and stalling my movements. After a quick pause to see what my mother would do—I don’t know why I paused to see what she would do—I shuffled forward on my knees. When I reached her feet, I had a choice to make: should I straddle my mother’s thighs, or should I crawl between her legs? I thought for a second before I pushed my knees between her feet, forcing her to spread her legs open.

Mom’s skin burned to the touch. My sack tightened with an airy lightness, though my balls felt the ache. I shuffled forward, keeping my knees pressed to my mother’s skin, and she spread her legs wider and wider as I moved forward. As she opened her legs, her thighs parted, and that little hammock of white cupping the smooth tenderness of her cunny narrowed, allowing the swells of her outer lips to bulge outward. I needed to lick her. My eyes focused on the hollow dip that separated her inner thighs from her outer labia, and a sigh left my throat, which turned into a low moan when I saw the line of dampness darkening my mother’s narrow slit.

The dampness was darker than before.

Holy shit.

I continued upward. My knees brushed Mom’s knees, and then her thighs. She had to bend her left knee, pulling it up the bed, which tilted her hips upward and to the right, along with her upper body. Her head turned to the left, but she pulled the pillow with her, keeping the side of her face buried in it. I couldn’t spread my mother’s legs much more than they were, unless...

I nudged my mother’s right thigh with my knee. She tried to move it to the side. I lowered my right hand, fingers pointing down, and I cupped her thigh near her pussy, giving it a push. Mom inhaled a shaky breath as the heat between her legs washed over my hand. I applied pressure to her leg, then squeezed her hot flesh, saying, “Come on, Mom, up you go.”