Obsession - Sex Stories

Obsession

... as if something unexplainable had just happened and I wondered if he’d seen it too. “It’s OK.” Brian tried to coax me on. I looked up into his eyes, confused, unsure. I wanted to. I truly did, “But…” I suppose he read the pleading in my eyes. “Mom, it’s OK… …Ga-head… …do it… …Touch it…No one will know.” “No one will know”, I repeated in my head. The words made me feel… Naughty… Wicked … Excited! I saw Brian slide his fingers down as far as they would go on his stiff cock. His last three fingers dr****g over his ball sack, while his thumb and index finger held tight around the base; buried in his thin patch of pubic hair. It took no more persuading. I let my fingers touch him again. I made tiny circles through the slimy sweetness that escaped his overexcited cock. I let them slide partway down his thick shaft and then I closed my fingers around it. Even my long fingers couldn’t close all the way around. His cock was rigid and extremely hot to the touch. As hot as my pussy was at that point, I’m sure. I steel rod wrapped in a warm soft blanket. I automatically began to slide my hand up and down; slowly, lovingly. I started to jerk off my son. “I can’t believe this!” I purred to the room. I got more comfortable with what I was doing and started to pump my hand with a little more enthusiasm; feeling, squeezing, twisting my hand. Brian moaned and pushed up into my hand as I settled into a slow, unhurried rhythm of stroking his dick. “You really want me to do this, huh?” I asked ...

... realizing how stupid the question was but I felt I needed to hear him say it. I needed to feel like I wasn’t just doing this to satisfy my own depraved needs. “God yeah Mom!” It felt heavy and hard but soft and smooth at the same time. I was shocked. I was doing it. After all the time of wondering about my son’s dick… …Here I was with it in my hand. I had never felt anything quite like it before. Both of us watched as my hand slid up and down its pudgy length. Up…and then… down as I gave my son a hand-job. “Jesus Brian!” I whispered. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I really can’t” I not only couldn’t believe I was actually giving my son a hand job but I couldn’t really believe he’d encouraged me to. I eased my way up further onto the bed, never letting go of him. I heard myself saying, in a shaky voice, something a Mom shouldn’t be saying to her 17-year-old son, “Spread your legs a little for me.” I whispered. I clumsily climbed between his legs and quickly settled in. I sat back; my legs underneath me, watching my hand. Up & down—Up & down… Up & down—Up & down…, slowly but firmly; getting to know it, the shape of it, the feel, watching the drops of slippery pre-cum dribble out and down to my fingers. I glanced up at Brian every few seconds as I masturbated him. He looked fascinated and mystified at the same time, happily conflicted. His eyes bounced back and forth between my hand and my face. “You’re pretty.” He told me softly. I blushed and smiles. I think he was doing the ...