Chapter 6: Extracurricular Activity

Mom didn’t want to practice the next two nights. I wondered if Dad had said anything to her after they went to bed but decided that he hadn’t. She must just be freaked about standing in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating biscuits with her husband while her son’s cum dried in her panties. I rushed home from work to talk to Mom on Wednesday, knowing I had about half an hour before Dad got home. I found her at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. I got right to the point.

“Mom, we have to practice or we’ll blow the recital.”

She avoided my eyes, looking down like my father had done Sunday night.

“You don’t want that, do you?”

“No.”

“Is something wrong?”

There, I had opened it up. I had thought about this all day and was scared of this, knowing it might lead to an ultimatum.

“No. Well, not really. It’s just that,” Mom was twisting her fingers together on the table in front of her. “It’s just that ... things went a little further than I thought. I just, I just ... oh, I’m so confused.”

Tears appeared under Mom’s eyes, running over her cheeks and dripping onto the table, but there was no sound, no sobbing or crying. I tried Dad’s thought, that I was just an eager teenager that couldn’t help himself.

“Mom, I know. It’s just that, well, I can’t help myself, being so close to you, you being so pretty and all.”

“I know all about that, Jon. I’m not really all that worried because I know I won’t let it get out of hand. You know that too, don’t you?”

Mom’s piercing look demanded my attention and I nodded.

“I know, Mom. Just a little fun, that’s all. Maybe not so far from now on.”

“Yes,” Mom looked down. “Maybe not so far.”

Thank god she wasn’t cutting me off completely. Putting my dick into her panties was a little outrageous and I was certain if it hadn’t been for the recital she would have cut me off for good. Instead, she was just putting the brakes on a little. I was pretty sure that meant I could still play with her tits, but had to keep my dick out of her panties. But maybe not my hands, I thought. She hadn’t been upset after that, so that must be ok. It made sense. That must have felt good to her, but jamming my cock under her bum probably didn’t do anything for her at all. I had to remember to make her feel good, I thought, repeating it, trying to burn it into my mind.

“It’s something your dad said to me Sunday night. I couldn’t sleep for hours after that.”

“What did he say?”

“He said all boys have a little something for their moms but it doesn’t mean anything, they grow out of it.”

“He said that?”

“Yes. Do you think he knows? I couldn’t bear that.”

“No Mom. Sunday night, after you went up to bed, Dad told me to watch myself because he could see I was a little excited.”

“Really? He wasn’t mad?”

“No. He said he understood, that it was natural even if the woman was your mother, especially one as good looking as you.”

Mom’s face flushed. Her tears had stopped and dried on her cheeks.

“And?”

“He told me to be careful because you would get really, really mad if you noticed.”

Mom couldn’t help a little burst of quiet laughter at the irony of that.

“He told me to wear a jock strap whenever I practiced sitting right behind you.”

Mom burst out laughing, loudly this time, and I joined in.

“Oh, goodness gracious,” Mom said, tears in her eyes, of joy this time. “You better do as your father says,” she said, laughing, “because he might check. So,” she mused, “he doesn’t know how far things have gone?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t say ‘nope’.”

“No,” I corrected myself. “Is that all that was bothering you, Mom?”

She said it was but I could tell there was something else. She insisted that was all. She got up and put her cup and saucer in the sink.

“Your father will be home any minute.”

He should have been here now. I said as much.

“Oh, right. I asked him to stop by the store on the way home.”

I was right behind Mom and she almost walked into me when she turned around. I looked down at her chest and she noted where I was looking.

“Will you show them to me, Mom?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom barked.

“Come on, Mom. I know they’re beautiful. I can feel that.”

“No way.”

“Come on, Mom. Let me see them so I can imagine them at night.”

“You think about me at night?”

“Yes.”

“No. That’s not right for you to think about me at night ... doing what?” Mom looked inquisitively into my eyes, thought better of it and, blushing, said, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Mom tried to push past me but I blocked her way, putting my hands at the top of her arms to guide her back in front of me, then sliding them down and inward to let my palms brush the sides of her breasts.

“Come on, Mom. Just a little peek.”

I twisted my hand, rubbing my palms on the tops of her breasts, then started undoing a button on her white blouse.

“Stop it, Jon. Your father will be home any minute.”

“No he won’t,” I said, slipping the button out and moving down to the next one. “If you sent him to the store, you know he’ll be at least fifteen more minutes. He can’t find anything in there.”