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By Lauren McAllister
My 17-year-old son Jacob and I hadn’t been getting along that well. I tried to explain to him that it was tough enough being a single mother without having a child who had dedicated his every waking moment to making her life a misery. The summer months were especially challenging because he did nothing but fart around the house (figuratively and literally), eat everything in sight and play video games. We were going through a particularly brutal stretch in our increasingly grumpy relationship when I decided that we both needed a change of scenery.
“Camping!?” He whined. “What makes you think we’re going to get along any better out in the middle of the Goddamn woods?”
It was a fair question and I had no idea what the answer was but that did not stop me from giving him one.
“Because, if I’m stuck in this house for one more week with an inconsiderate unappreciative little jerk like you, I’m going to start poisoning your food.”
“With the way you cook, I probably wouldn’t notice the difference,” he apologized.
So was settled, at least as far as I was concerned (and the more miserable he was about the idea, the more I liked it). I borrowed a neighbor’s Winnebago, booked a campground and off we set for seven days of back to nature splendor. Unfortunately, I grossly underestimated how far we could travel in a day in an antique motor home. Plus it was raining. Plus I was almost out of gas. Plus I was complete idiot for even having considered spending an entire week in a rusty piece of tin with an infuriating ingrate.
Eventually, I was just too tired to go on. The next gas station, according to my smart phone, was another 70 miles and I just didn’t think we could make it that far and even if we could, was it open? The smart thing I reasoned, would but just be to pull over next to the lake we were presently passing and finish our hellish journey in daylight. I pulled off the road and onto a dirt path – well, was actually a mud path – and came to a stop at a gate.
“Well, get out and open it,” I requested of my sulk-infested son.
“But I’ll get all wet!” he selflessly responded.
“If you drown, I promise to serve all your favorite foods at your funeral.”
Grudgingly, he donned his thin overcoat and exited the Winnebago. So Jacob got a little wet and spent 2 ½ minutes outside the camper. Being deal! I parked our spacious vehicle by the lake and started hunting through the cupboards for a tasty little bottle of wine. It was definitely time to start self-medicating.
“Oh no!” bellowed my frantic son. “I lost my stick.”
“My USB stick! It’s got all my valuable information on it.”
“You have valuable information?”
“Mom! We have to find, it must’ve fallen out of my pocket when I was opening up that stupid gate for you.”
I looked long and hard out that window at the torrential downpour just on the other side and I looked long and hard at that warm and friendly bottle of red cradled in my arms. It was a lot to consider.
“All right! All right!”
So, out we trudged into the unforgiving night…and the rain…and the mud. It took over an hour of searching, scanning, getting down on our hands and knees and sifting through puddles of soggy dirt to find that Goddamn thing. Who knows if it was even functional by the time we retrieved it from its uber-blecky hiding place. When we finally got back inside our camper we both looked like the creatures from the Black Lagoon.
“Wow man, I’ve got to a take a shower,” my son informed me as he looked down upon his filthy form.
“Well goody for you,” I snarked. “But there’s only enough water in that tank for one shower and I can guarantee you that I’m taking it.”
“But I’m absolutely filthy! I can’t sleep caked in dirt and sludge.”
“Hey, I got like this looking for your stupid USB stick, jerk-face. This is your fault and unless you’re prepared to jump in that shower with me then you’re out of luck.”
There was a pause.
Jacob took off his shirt and placed in the garbage pail by the table. “We’ll take a shower together but you’d better get those clothes off soon or all the hot water will be gone.”
Shit! The little bastard had called my bluff. Well, I’d just about had enough of his little temper tantrums and “me, me, me” attitude. It was time to take a stand. I pulled off my soaking wet and filthy T-shirt and glowered at him in my bra. He was little taken aback but after a couple of seconds started to defiantly unzip his jeans. Well, two can play that game. Off came my jeans. Now, we were standing and staring daggers at one another in our underwear.
“Well?” I challenged him.
“Fine!” he snorted, pulling his underwear down.
My stomach sank to my feet, I was so nervous, but there was no turning back now. Down went my underwear. Off came my bra. Now, we were really staring at each other.
“You shave it?” he gasped in disbelief.
“And you’re an ass hole,” I replied turning my denuded genitalia away from him and switching on the water in the shower stall. It was only then that I really considered how incredibly small that little cubicle was. This was going to be horrific. Perhaps he’ll sensibly chicken out now, I hoped. I grabbed the soap stepped in and of the cascading water. Almost immediately Jacob squeezed in beside me (and I do mean squeezed). There was just no way for two people to be in this tiny space without large areas of their bodies touching one another. I’ve never been so embarrassed. No matter how hard I sucked in my breath, my breasts were still pushed up against my son’s chest. Our legs were touching. Every time one of us moved an arm or hand it brushed against the other. I wanted to sneak out of my own asshole and hide in shame. And then it got worse. I felt Jacob’s penis starting to grow and press against my stomach. It was a pretty good size. He certainly didn’t inherit that from his father! He was very, very ashamed. The tension in that tiny tub was teeth-shattering. At first, I was furious but then my “mom” gene kicked and I knew I had to help them through this unspeakably difficult moment.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said stroking his cheek comfortingly. “It’s physically impossible not to react like that in a situation like this.” I pulled my left tit up, which was squished against his chest at the time and showed it to him. “Look, my nipples are as hard as bullets and I’m having no more fun in here than you are.”
That seemed to cheer him somewhat. Not a lot was said in the minutes that followed; just some very serious and suffocatingly snug cleaning took place. When I squatted down to wash my lower legs I could feel his nutsack pressed against my four head. Blush! Similarly, while he was soaping up his calves and shins, his head was utilizing my quim for balance. I’ve performed sex acts that weren’t this intimate! When Jacob stood awkwardly back up, the head of his erect penis rubbed against the entire length of my vagina. What creepy, yet sexually charged sensation. And washing our genitals was indescribably uncomfortable.
At some point, the water just dried up and that meant our shower was over. We tried to exit the cubicle with as little contact as possible. We were not very successful. I grabbed a couple of towels from the cupboard and threw one to him. As he was drying himself off, he paused and looked over at me with this regretful look on his face.
“Hey, I’m sorry for being such an asswipe. I really do appreciate all you do for me.”
Ahhh. What a completely sweet thing to say. Again my “mom” gene took over and I smiled and held out my arms to him. “Come here you, and give your mother a hug.”
Jacob dropped his towel and wrapped himself around me in the tightest, most affectionate hug we had had in a long, long time. I was pretty emotionally overwhelmed, to tell the truth (to the point where I’d forgotten that we were both completely naked).
Jacob pulled back his head and looked deep into my eyes. “Let’s not argue anymore, okay?”
“It’s a deal sweetie,” I replied, giving him a little peck on the lips. “What a handsome boy you are.” I gave him another peck, this one a little longer than the last. Before I knew it, I’d kissed him a third time and this one was a lot longer and possibly far too affectionate considering how closely we were related. By now, Jacob had his hands firmly on my ass cheeks and was pulling my pelvic area tight against his reawakened erection.
Our next kiss was highly inappropriate. Our mouths were open and our tongues were engaged in activities that no mother and son should ever be involved in. I knew it was so wrong but I just couldn’t stop. I seem to have been swept up in a sexual whirlpool that spun me round and round until I found myself lying on the Winnebago cot with Jacob on top of me. His hands were all over my breasts and I’m ashamed to say that I had reached down between my legs to fondle his balls. Both of us realized that any extended foreplay might talk us out of this act most vile and so we dare not tarry. I was his mother and should’ve stopped this abomination before it started but as the head of his knob pushed against the undulating opening of my vaginal canal, all reason was lost. Only the cries for bestial concupiscent satiation reached my brain. As he dragged his rigid rod up and down the length of my swollen, tingling vulva, I dug my nails deep into his ass flesh and called out for him to lay waste to my feminine modesty.
My son complied with my wishes by ramming his cock as far inside me as my tumescent twat would allow. I grunted and cursed is he ground his manhood against my rock-hard clitoris. Sweet sexual swirls of ecstasy flowed up into my uterus and ovaries causing me to grip him ever tighter. Watching Jacob pull his throbbing purple cock out of me and then seeing it disappear again absolutely sent my head spinning. I wrapped my legs tightly around his as I felt my cunt begin to clench, squeezing his shaft to extract the gooey, creamy gold from his testicles.
“Fuck me baby! Fuck me!” I screamed as a massive tsunami rose up between my legs and flooded me with big cumie spasms. It’s fortunate Jacob was only 17 and limber because my orgasmic bucking and writhing might’ve snapped an older man in two. His own climax arrived only seconds later. Jake’s eyes practically crossed as all functions in his body, save for pumping vast squirts of his baby juice inside me, ceased. It must’ve been a real gusher because he wailed away violently on top of me for what seemed like an eternity. Then he lay there still, as his penis slowly withered inside my orifice. Finally, he kissed both my nipples and rolled over onto the bed.
This was about the moment that I started to have severe misgivings about what had just transpired, as I lay there naked next to my son. What was I thinking? I should be in jail. This horrible thing was all my fault! I didn’t have terribly long to beat myself up over the situation however, because about five minutes later Jacob rollback on top of me and fucked me again. He fucked me a third time before finally falling asleep in my arms. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have sex with a 17-year-old. It’s exhausting!
When I woke up in the morning, I was almost paralyzed with regret. I shook Jacob awake urgently.
“Sweetie, we have to get dressed immediately and get to the campgrounds,” I informed him.
He kissed me deep on the mouth and grabbed my left tit. “Why don’t we just stay here for the rest of the week?” he replied and kissed me again.
I pulled away from. “What we did last night was so wrong. We you get around other people and behave ourselves. There can never be a repeat of what happened here. Ever! Do you understand me?”
In the end, he reluctantly agreed to go after I let him fuck me one more time. Sigh. Mothers always have to make tough choices like that.
Once we got to the campgrounds, are illicit liaison ended… well, almost. Jacob would often sneak up behind me as I was doing the dishes or cooking dinner. He’d reach round with his left hand and cup my breast while sliding his right down the front of my sweatpants and into the meaty folds of my pussy. “No baby, we can’t,” I’d protest (no matter how unbelievably good it felt). After a couple of minutes of letting his fingers wander around my soaking sexual organs, I’d invariably do the right thing and pull his hand away. And yes, sometimes I would get down on my knees and suck his cock, but only to calm him down. He just loved it when I’d look up at him as I was giving the underside of his head long meaningful licks. My favorite part was tickling his gonads just as he was about to blast off. No matter how many times a day I did it, he always managed to practically fill my mouth with his load. Then, I’d disapprovingly display his pool of cum on my tongue, swallow it and tell him to get lost and go find a girl his own age. Once he’d gone, I’d treat myself to five or six wanks in a row and a long nap.
Once we got home, everything changed. Even the thought of French kissing each other in the house where he grew up gave us both the creeps. Thus, all inappropriate contact between us ended… Thank God!
Though, we are planning a two-month cross-country camping trip next summer when he gets home from college. I mean, what could possibly happen?
Copyright 2014 Lauren McAllister