CHAPTER THREE

Saturday

A beam of sunlight washed onto the kitchen counter where I poured a fresh, steamy cup.

“Good morning, Sean. You sleep okay?” I asked casually when he came down the stairs.

“Wow. Uh, yeah. And holy shit.” He said bug-eyed. “I didn’t know you owned something like that. I thought I was going to have to make you buy stuff.”

He was referring to this morning’s outfit, a forgotten pair of lingerie that I dug out of the closet. Now that I remembered how much I liked showing off my body, I just had to see if it still fit.

It did. A sheer black bra adorned my tits, and a thong, attached by garter to thigh high stockings, accentuated my ass and legs. It all culminated in a pair of heels. I looked like a fucking dream, and the tent in Sean’s boxers confirmed it. To think I almost didn’t wear it.

Yesterday, things got a little weird. For one, I didn’t see Sean for the rest of the night. After blowing his load to my striptease, he looked pale and mumbled something about us both needing rest. “I think I overdid it…” He groaned. I too noticed the symptoms of a burgeoning migraine pounding at my skull.

He stumbled to his room and closed the door behind him, leaving me topless and feeling a little queasy. What the fuck had I done? I completely let my desire to show off my body override all reason. Offering a little visual stimuli for Sean to jack off to was one thing, but I was about to get totally naked. I was about to show him everything.

The headache was fucking bad, and I had no appetite, and it took all my effort to drag myself to bed and curl into a ball. Cool moms never stress, I told myself. Cool moms never stress. When I finally drifted off to sleep, I promised myself that in the morning, I’d cover up and go back to normal. I’d wear real clothes. And I’d never get that close to spreading my shaved pussy for my son’s friend again.

When I woke up, I remembered this sexy little number tucked away in a box somewhere, and I just couldn’t fucking resist trying it on…

“So… you’re feeling okay?” He asked me.

After a good night’s sleep, yesterday’s anxieties felt like ancient history. What did we do that was so wrong, anyway? What was a little striptease between a cool mom and her son’s friend? It’s not like I actually got on the ground, opened my legs, and spread my pussy lips so he could get a nice good look at my cunt. I’d been worrying about something I didn’t do, and would never do.

With those anxieties gone, what reason did I have not to dress sexy?

“Of course I am!” I chirped. “I feel sooo much fucking better. How about you?”

“Yeah. I just needed to… recharge. But I’m feeling really good, especially now that I’ve seen this. I was worried that you would… well. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I smiled. The dynamic of a week-long house guest could always be a little tricky. It felt good to know that both of us were still feeling comfortable despite some moments of awkwardness.

“Can I get you anything, Sean?” I asked, remembering my motherly duties.

“Obviously! I’m fucking starving. Make me some pancakes, bitch.”

I crossed my arms. “Fucking try again, kiddo.” Part of my renewed clarity this morning meant I knew for certain when Sean was crossing a line. I had already made the pancakes, and they were being warmed in the oven, but Hell if I was going to serve them when he asked like that.

“What? It’s a compliment!” He said. “Bitch, whore, slut… They’re all terms of endearment. Didn’t you fucking know? I thought you were with it. I thought you were cool.”

My ears turned red in embarrassment. It was so hard to keep up with youthful lingo. When I grew up, those words were demeaning. Even the way he spoke it sounded mean. It sounded like an insult, an order.

Was that how he meant it though?

Bitch. Whore. Slut. The words may sound insulting, but if Sean really meant them as compliments… Come to think of it, didn’t some girls affectionately call their friends bitches? Was it so unbelievable that the practice had spread to boys, too? If that was true…

I guess I could let it slide. Cool moms were permissive about language, and Sean should be able to talk however he wanted. In fact, shouldn’t I want him to call me a bitch, a whore, and a slut, if he meant it as a compliment? Cool moms love compliments.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry, I knew that.” I lied. “Old habits die hard I guess. Bitch used to be an insult, you know. Let me get you those pancakes hun.”

Sean just laughed in amazement. The young guy probably didn’t believe me. Things changed so fast from generation to generation. It was a good thing I was able to stay with it.

“Oh my God, really??” Sean asked through a mouthful of pancake.

“It’s not uncommon!”

I sipped down the last of a bellini and poured myself another cup. It may have been a bit early to go so hard, but we were dishing, and I needed to wash down the embarrasment of my latest personal admission. My biggest turn-on.

“I never woulda guessed.” He shrugged. “Mrs. L likes her nipples played with.”

“LIKED.” I stressed. “It’s been a long time.” Too long.

Aware of my state of dress, I re-positioned the low-cut sheer bra from where it had slipped. If he looked close enough he could probably see right through it, my wide dark areolas hidden in the black fabric.

“So when’s the last time you wore this? Be honest.” Sean said. He was looking.

“Oh God, I don’t know. Ten years ago? To be honest I can’t believe it still fits.” I said. The last person I wore this for was of course my husband. Now, I was wearing it for a house guest of nineteen. I was so cool.

“Oh it fucking fits. You look amazing. I seriously want to jerk it to you right now.”

I was in the middle of my breakfast, still working my way through the last half of pancake. Then– The SCREECH of the chair surprised even me when I stood, automatically.

“Okay, Sean.” I answered simply after a moment of disorientation. Why not? Sean could jerk it whenever he wanted.

I stared into his eyes, earnest, brainstorming exactly how I would pose for him, but he looked back at me with amused shock.

“I didn’t actually mean now.” Sean grinned. “Sit down and finish your breakfast.”

I sat again, embarassed.

“Really cool of you to offer, though.” He added, and patted my stockinged leg. “It is so cool that your body is just kind of always available to me.”

Cool. That was cool. I took comfort in that. I worried for a second that my eagerness was going to come off as lame. I hated the idea of being one of those moms that couldn’t take a hint, that didn’t know when they were being overbearing. I was glad my willingness was appreciated. I mean, how many moms would strip in the middle of their breakfast?

He stroked my leg. His hand was getting dangerously close to the edge of my stockings, lingering in the neighborhood of my inner thigh.

I think he was waiting for me to react because he looked at me expectantly, like he had one his justifications locked and loaded. I could just picture him, with that infuriating smug innocence of his, coming up with some answer to my discomfort and making me feel like a fool.

Play it cool. Think it through. Sean could help himself to anything in the house he wanted. Isn’t that one of the first things I told him? It was classic Cool Mom. Help yourself! We have beer, food, TV…

Well, I was something in the house, too. I was available. Always available. To bring him snacks. Cook for him. Clean for him. And… be touched by him.

Cool mom households had ameneties that the boys weren’t used to getting at their own houses. The best snacks. The newest consoles. The most available moms. He already leered at me all he wanted. Hell, I was just about to drop everything just so he could jack off while I posed for him. Was touching any different? Young guys loved to touch women just as much as they loved snacks and video games. I’d be a bad hostess to disregard that.

Wordlessly, with his hand on my thigh, I spread my legs a little wider and went on eating like nothing was wrong. So what if he wanted to touch my body a bit? I was cool with that.

Sean, to his credit, didn’t immediately take full advantage. It took a couple more brushes of my inner thigh at breakfast, a light spank of my ass while I did dishes, and a squeeze of my tit when wiping down the table, before he grew bolder. He may have been fishing for a reaction at first, but by mid-day he was simply enjoying the priveleges of my available body.

“Hey hun. What’s up?”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you since you hung up on me the other day. Are you good?” It was Sofia on the line, my beautiful whore daughter. “Yeah, I’m good. In fact I’m– gre–aat!” I held back a yelp when Sean took a particularly big squeeze of my ass. Not that I could blame him for helping himself to whatever handfuls of flesh he wanted. Dressed like this, my body was never more grab-able.

Of course, I couldn’t tell that to Sofia. She wouldn’t understand. Her dislike of Sean would definitely get in the way of reason. So, while chatting with her on the phone, I pretended that my house guest wasn’t currently pulling my tits out of their meshy cups.

“How’s the jerk?” She asked dismissively.

“Oh you know. He’s a ha-aandfu–ll!”

He helped himself to a heaping serving of my breasts, squeezing them from both sides. And I don’t think Sean realized that the way he kneaded my tits together, his fingertips were brushing against my nipples.

At least, after what I told him this morning, I hoped he didn’t realize.

“Uh.. Mom?”

More than just brushing up against them, he was actually stroking them lightly. Pinching them, almost, but not quite. I racked my mind for an answer… was I cool with this?

“Sorry hun, I just uh, stubbed my toe. So how are finals going?”

My nipples hardened from his touch. Sean ought to stop this, or he was going to make me blow my cover. More importantly, I was certain now that this teasing was intentional. His not-pinching started to get to me. Either do it or don’t. Or just do it. Do it, so I can tell you forthright that this is unacceptable!

Instead, he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, threatening to squeeze just a little harder, but not. I wished he did. I wished he would pinch them so this ambiguity could end. Was he just feeling me or trying to turn me on? If it was the latter, then, that was completely over the line.

Then, his other hand wandered its way down my ribs.

Towards my– Oh no…

He explored lower, to my stomach, and as much as I wanted to stop him, I couldn’t. Sofia was on the line, and I didn’t want to worry her. I said he could help himself to anything he wanted. But I didn’t mean anything, did I?

Instinctively my legs widened for Sean’s approaching fingers. They lowered.

Slowly.

They tickled the bottom of my bellybutton, leaving goosebumps in their wake, dropping lower still.

Slowly.

But when he reached the silk thong that hugged my pussy, he let go and smiled.

Sofia yammered on, but all I could focus on was Sean’s cocky grin. I hoped he didn’t think I was about to let him touch me there. I pulled my legs together in a hurry and returned my attention to the phone call. My darling slut was talking about her final exams, and I didn’t want to miss anymore than I already did. But just as soon as this conversation was over, I’d have to clarify that some things were off-limits.

I took a seat on the couch and, oh right, my tits were still hanging overtop my bra. I must look ridiculous right now, chatting on the phone with my tits out. With my daughter, no less. So ridiculous. I should really put them away. This was inaproppriate, or– I don’t know exactly–

I guess it was like when Sean helped himself to a beer and then left it half-full on the countertop all afternoon. When he did that, I couldn’t very well clean it up, not if he was planning on finishing it. My tits were a little bit like an unfinished beer. I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Sofia said. I’d completely zoned out from her.

“Just– a funny text from your brother.” I lied. “Go on.”

Did Sean plan to fondle them again later? Did he intend on stopping completely, expecting me to put them away like I did everything else? I looked his way for a sign and he gave me a wink. A knowing smile dancing across his face, then he vanished into his room. He could be so frustrating!

The phone BEEP BEEP BEEPED over Sofia’s story about a particularly troublesome professor or something-or-other. To be honest the conversation was a little dry. Didn’t Sofia want to talk boys? Who was she seeing? Who was she hooking up with? What was her biggest turn-on?

“Sofia, sorry, there’s someone on the other line.” I inturrupted her.

Maybe it was her nipples. She was a lot like me, after all.

“Okay, I can let you go.” She said. “I’ll be seeing you soon anyway! I’m so excited.” So excited. My nipples were still hard, swollen erect of my boobs, pulling at my attention.

“Thanks.” I said guiltily. “Me too. Love you, bye.”

I hated lying to Sofia, but when I hung up, the guilt passed.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Hello?” I asked to the other caller.

“Hi… Is this Elena Lopez?”

The woman’s voice on the line faltered a bit. She was breathy with the light timbre of a thin reed.

“Yes, this is she. Who is this?”

“This is Patricia Walsh.”

“Oh.” I said. Sean’s mother.

“I was calling because I just learned my son was staying at your house.”

“That’s right.” I said.

“I wanted to… warn you.” She said carefully. “About Sean.”

“Oh?” I asked. What could she possibly have to warn me about? I’ve already been exposed to his worst qualities, like how I still didn’t know if he was done playing with my boobs.

“There’s something wrong about him.”

I winced. What kind of mother said that about her own son? It was so uncool.

“Patricia, I don’t think I need to hear this.”

“You don’t understand. It’s the orders. Me and Ryan both. We couldn’t– we had to–”

Her explanation fell apart into confused fragments. What the Hell was she talking about? Even I knew Sean could be bossy, that wasn’t news. Didn’t his parents know hown to set boundaries like me?

“And the splitting headaches. So painful, every time. What I’m saying is… Shit. I’m sorry. I haven’t been the same since. And the last thing he said before he left, he called me a stupid whore then slammed the door.”

“Okay. I understand you had some sort of fight. I hope, maybe you can patch things up one day. Sean has been a fine guest. He’s starting college.” I said, trying to stabilize the conversation. And end it. I was getting uncomfortable.

“But when I think back on it, about what he said, stupid whore, it’s like, uhm. Gosh. What was I saying? I get so stupid sometimes.”

This whole conversation was stupid. Didn’t Patricia know that whore was a compliment, anyway? Was she that stupid?

“Thanks Patricia. Really.” I said. “I’ll be careful.

“Elena, please. I’m like, really serious! Sean’s like, magic or something. He made us do all those things and like, uhm… He said stupid whore and now whenever I remember it, ooh fuck.”

“You can rest assured he’s doing nothing of the sort here.” I promised.

Sort of. Sean was making a lot of requests of me. But he wasn’t making me do anything. I was just cool.

“Like, for real?” Patricia asked. Her airy voice had hollowed out even further, and God, she did sound stupid. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Sean but I suggest you work it out between yourselves.”

“But– but like– wait! I totally fucked our neighbor Ted. And then his son. Sucked him off behind the shed. I get so stupid and horny and, ohmigawd I can be such a whore!”

I hung up.

No wonder Sean moved out, with a mother like that. Stupid whore. The words lingered in my head. I didn’t normally cast such judgements on other women, but she said it herself. Stupid whore.

And that stuff she was saying, about how Sean could make me do things, was crazy. And I could prove it.

I adjusted my garters and stockings, making sure my sexy little number was perfectly in place before I swayed, heels clacking across the wood floor, knockers swinging free, to where Sean was. Just earlier, when he was about to fondle my pussy, I was going to stop him. I knew I was. So all I had to do was tell that to his face, just like I planned. “No, Sean. You can’t touch my pussy. You can’t get everything you want. You can’t.”

“Wow, Elena. This is some high quality lingerie. This silk is so soft. Thanks again for letting me feel it, that’s so cool of you.”

“Uh huh. No problem.” I said shortly, swallowing a gasp. His finger lightly stroked the crotch of my panties, but the sensation was massive. When did I get so sensitive there? He only wanted to feel the fabric, and that’s all he was doing. My pussy was off-limits, and even Sean understood that.

Before was just another misunderstanding. Just a silly, silly misunderstanding. I should have known. As always, I confronted him, and then he explained everything to me.

“Well, you were on the phone, and, I didn’t want to interrupt, so I didn’t ask then. I thought I’d better wait.” It was uncharacterstically considerate of Sean, and I was ashamed for accusing him of anything worse.

“So what were you trying to do?” I asked, still skeptical. What else could he have been going for with that wandering hand of his if not my pussy?

And then, he asked so nicely if I would be so cool as to let him feel my underwear. Of course. My underwear. Fancy silk, probably like nothing he’d ever seen before. Naturally he would be curious.

How could I deny him? I didn’t want to be like his uptight stupid whore of a mother.

But while he touched my silken mound, he was also doing that thing to my nipple again. Brushing it and rolling it and teasing it, assaulting my body with light touches on two fronts now, top and bottom, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on me.

I took a deep breath. I had to stay cool. “Uunhh—!” I moaned.

“Everything okay, Mrs. Lopez?” Sean asked while he stroked, stroked, stroked me. He escalated to full four-finger petting down below. A little firmer with the pressure, and longer strokes. He really liked the feel of the silk.

“It’s… cool…”

It felt good. Undeniably. This little exercise wasn’t just turning me on, but getting me off. I should stop it. Stop him. Before I–

“Mrs. Lopez, they’re getting wet.” Sean whispered in my ear, and squee-eeezed my straining nipple.

“Aaa-aahh-!”

“Maybe you should take them off so you don’t ruin them.”

He rubbed them harder, really feeling the wetness that had seeped into them.

“I don’t— know— no—”

“It’s cool. Just let me take them off and we’ll let them dry.”

It was getting soaked, my silk thong. Slicker and stickier by the second, absorbing my arousal to saturation. And with the silk so wet, I felt Sean’s fingers more than ever through the fabric, unwittingly rubbing my labia in small circles.

“Uh huh. Take them off me. Take them off.” I said in a hurry. I was ruining my panties!

He pulled them down in a heartbeat, and I stepped out of them, wet sex exposed to the cool air. Mindlessly, I got back into position, legs spread and leaning against the wall.

“Thanks for letting me feel those.” Sean said, balling up my thong and tossing it into the corner. “That was really cool.”

“Anytime, now can you-—” I stopped myself from finishing that thought.

What was I doing? He wasn’t going to touch me there, not directly. He was done.

But of course he was. We both knew that my pussy was off-limits, and he would NEVER disrespect a boundary. He had only wanted to feel my thong. Sean had no idea how close I was to cumming. How close to the edge he drove me with his probing, stroking fingers. How could he? He was nineteen.

“Damn, Elena. Look at that shaved cunt. You are such a fucking milf.”

The compliment was delicious. I’d forgotten all about it, my bald pussy, and the memory rushed back to me in a flood. Shaving myself, lathered in cream under the steamy hot torrent of the shower, under the burning gush, whispering beneath sultry breath, “I wanna be cool for you, Sean. I wanna be cool.”

“I did it for you, hun.” I said throatily. I had done it, against all better judgement, because of him. Because he said it was cool. And then I remembered what Patricia said, about Sean making me do things.

“Show me that bare ass.” He ordered, sitting back.

He was going to jack off to my body again, I realized with burgeoning excitement. I eagerly went into model mode, and– this couldn’t be Sean. It couldn’t be. This was me. I wanted this so, so badly.

In this heightened state, it was so easy to show him everything. Soaring, I bent over, and– and–

He was looking right at my cunt. It would be sandwiched between my thighs, aroused and glistening bare. Probably dripping. I felt it, the emerging wetness, and– and– a rush of blood went to my head when I realized that to Sean, this was probably the coolest thing I ever did.

“Fuuuuuck…” Sean moaned when I wrapped my slippery fingers around his cock. That simple utterance brought me back to earth. I was in a fog, still un-released, in the grip of near-orgasm.

I did it from behind, resting my chin on his shoulder and pressing my oiled up tits into his back.

Oil. I was covered in body oil. Sean had produced it during my performance, and I was more than happy to drizzle it tantalizingly down my curves, to rub it into myself, to let my milf body shimmer and glisten in it.

I’d been in such a haze. And now I was touching Sean’s hard dick, and it was literally pulsing in my hand.

“You know I’m only doing this once,” I insisted. “So don’t get used to it.” At least, I hoped this was a one time thing. I couldn’t quite remember how we got here.

“You’re the coolest fucking whore-mom.” He said huskily. “Now do it. Jack me off.”

The compliment made it easy to begin, and the body oil even easier. I started from the base and pulled outwards, squeezing him through my slick grip. In a lot of ways, this wasn’t much different than the foot massage. Over and over, stroke after stroke, I felt the sensation of his hard, lubricated cock in my hand. I just had to focus on rubbing it, on making him feel good.

On making him cum.

That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it? Posing, slathering my nearly naked body with oil, rubbing myself, talking dirty, dancing, it was all to help Sean jerk off. So when he asked me to just finish the job myself, of course I… I…

Well, I must have said yes, right? Because I was doing it now.

No… I said “No…” at first.

But what did it matter now? I was doing it. Clearly, I changed my mind.

What difference did it make anyway from posing naked? Either serving as a visual masturbation aid or a physical masturbation aid, the result was the same. A nice, hard orgasm for Sean.

In truth, I was a little excited to show Sean my skills. One of the best parts of being a cool mom was surprising the boys with a secret talent. No one expected their buddy’s mom to sink a three-pointer basketball shot, or hold their own in a Call of Duty match, or, in my case, give a world class handjob. It’d been years since I touched a cock, but everything came back to me in an instant. I knew exactly how to twist my wrist, how much pressure to apply, how fast to stroke him, and exactly what to say.

“Your cock feels so hard in my hand…” I praised. Sean tried to hold back, but he was close. I felt him tense in my tight embrace, so I quickened my pace. “Come on…” I urged. “Shoot your load. Cum for me.”

“No–! I want you to– suck it– first!”

It was too late. I watched in amazement as he shot ropes, more than I’d ever see him shoot before, all over the floor. I squeezed him tightly against my tits, and whispered, “Gooood boy…” into his ear, pumping him until his balls were emptied and his shoulders slackened.

“Damnit…” he sighed. “That was too fucking quick. I wanted your mouth this time…”

Inwardly, I scoffed. What kind of woman did he think I was? Even if he lasted longer, I would never have taken things that far.

I strode across the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of heels and swaying my ass along the way, and pulled at the roll of paper towels. When my legs came together as I squatted, I couldn’t tell the difference between the oil and my own slick wetness. I was so fucking horny.

“Wait.” Sean said, his defeated expression morphing into a devilish grin. “A cool mom would lick it up.”

My first reaction was confusion. That didn’t make any sense. Lick up his cum? That was insane. Disgusting. And it had nothing to do with how cool…

How cool I….

How cool I was…

I looked at the paper towels in my hand with disgust. Was I about to wipe his cum like some kind of prude? Formalities like that might be necessary for other mothers, but I was a little cooler than that. Of course I could just lick it up. Why waste the paper?

I went prostrate. My ass wagged high in the air and my tits pressed against the cold floor. A pang of worry hit me that this was degrading, but no, this was the ideal position to clean up this mess.

Sean, for some reason, grabbed his phone and started filming. Diligently, I licked the floor, one long stroke of my tongue at a time. I couldn’t imagine why he wanted such mundane footage of me cleaning.

As I lapped up his mess, I thought, cunt throbbing, how if I had just used my mouth from the beginning, I could have avoided all this housework.

A raw hunk of steak meat slapped onto the skillet, seared and sizzling. I squeezed my thighs together, cooking in a haze of need, wet and dripping, desperate. Butter drizzled over the meat, mixing with the juices in the pan, fat and oils swirling, popping off the pan in burning droplets.

Sean gave my ass a hard SPANK! as he walked by, and I yelped. I wore only an apron, and besides that a pair of tall black stockings. From behind, Sean must have been admiring how my trunky thighs spilled out of nylon and my ass hung overtop. Still, he had to be careful, because–

“Sean…” I said. “I’m so fucking horny. If you’re gonna keep doing that, can I masturbate before we eat?”

“And let the food get cold?” Sean asked. “And then you need to do the dishes, right?”

“Right…” I sighed. In times like this, being the cool mom was hard. I never had any time for myself.

Ever since I’d gotten hopelessly turned on, I was searching for a spare moment to get off. But Sean always had another request, another chore. He was getting bossier, or maybe it only seemed that way because I so badly needed a minute to myself.

At first I brought it up gently. “God I sure could use a break, if you know what I mean.” I had said. A little playful hint during his daily footrub. Cool moms weren’t ashamed to talk about when they masturbated, or express when they needed to.

But Sean pushed back, and playful hints turned into direct statements. “I really need to cum right now,” I said while vacuuming. But Sean just laughed. “Not while this place is so filthy!”

And then, frazzled at at my wits end, while scooping leaves, sopping wet, slimy, from the pool. “Seriously, Sean, could I just get off? I’m so distracted.” But he wasn’t listening. “Really getting hungry right about now…” he said. I didn’t know how I was allowing this, but now I was begging.

“Sean, please. Please let me cum.” I asked again. I flipped the steak, the juicy tender backside dripping, the pan frying, the heat blazing. “It’s cool that need my permission to cum.” Sean said, without saying “Yes.”

So I finished cooking, and we ate, tearing into the pink slabs, ripping and gnashing, chewing, washing down with gulps of red wine. And then, mouth dry and sticky from the astringent bittersweet merlot, I cleaned, scrubbing scrubbing scrubbing away the frustration, counting down the seconds until I was free.

But I wasn’t free. After turning in early for bed, finally done with chores and obligations, finally done with Sean, I worked my cunt with my little pink toy, trying to get there. I couldn’t.

It was Sean. He was still in my head. “So cool that you need my permission.”

That wasn’t true. Why had I let that slide? I was concentrating on the steak, and I was just so distractible, clit begging to be touched, ass red-raw from his errant spanks, mind frayed with electric heat– I hadn’t said a single word back to him about it. Didn’t I normally at least try to debate him?

Lying there, slipping the little toy inside now, rubbing my clit with my fingers– pumping and rubbing, bucking my hips just so– I was getting close. So close!

But Sean’s words kept coming back to me. I really should have said something. I couldn’t see the connection between being cool and needing a house guest’s permission to cum. Was it– politeness, or something? Or putting yourself last? Cool moms aimed to please. That’s what at all the chores and acts of service were about. But needing permission to cum?

I adjusted my position. Maybe if I angled it like this, and oooh that felt nice. Nice enough to make me cum– getting me there–!!

He was still downstairs, watching tv. Smugly thinking he had some authority over my orgasms. I would have one without him. But even if I did, he wouldn’t know it. He’d think he was right.

If I just kept– Fuck! Why? Why couldn’t I–?? I could go down and settle this. Tell him I don’t need his permission to cum. Set him straight. And then– then I could finally cum. I’d be free of this distraction, and then, back in the comfort of my room I would cum so hard.

I just needed to talk to Sean first. Talk to Sean to get off. It seemed so silly, except now that it was on my mind, I couldn’t really get it out. And I certainly couldn’t cum.

I climbed out of bed, head spinning, horny. I took careful steps down the stairs. I must have looked ridiculous, a butt-naked woman, bedraggled, bent out of shape over an elusive orgasm, going downstairs to, what again? Ask permission– or–

Exaggerated moans echoed from the living room, punctuated by skin-slapping-skin jackhammer fucks. Sean was watching porn again, that same breed of fake nonsense we watched together before.

“Oh, hey Mrs. L. You wanna join me?” Sean wasn’t even jacking it, just browsing his phone while this loud video dominated the screen.

“Uhm, no, Sean. I just wanted to, well. I need to clear something up.”

“Oh come on, Elena, don’t bother pretending you don’t love this stuff. I think it’s cool you share my interests.”

“No, it’s not that.” I started, but the video was so loud, that woman squealing her head off while she got fucked in her perfectly shaved pussy. God, that cock was huge. Unrealistically so. You didn’t see something like that in real life.

I guess that’s what made porn so novel. Getting to see a monster cock plow a pussy that can really take it.

“It’s just, uhm. Well.”

And wow she could take it. Her legs were open to a near vertical split, and her co-star had her against a banister, really just plowing into her, knocking her titties around with every thrust. These were professionals. Expert fuckers. I couldn’t help but appreciate their skill. What was I saying again? I kept getting distracted by the video, where he was now picking her up and holding her while he fucked her, and his arms were massive, weren’t they?

“Why else would you have gotten out of bed and come downstairs? You love porn. Sit down and enjoy, it’s cool.” Sean said.

Okay, the last time we watched this stuff together, I may have overcompensated by making fun of it. With how thick I laid it on, I shouldn’t have been surprised that Sean saw straight through me.

Besides, I was too embarrassed to tell him the real reason I was here. That I pulled myself away from masturbating to clarify to him that I didn’t need his permission to cum. What the hell would he think of me? He probably already forgot about what he said. He’d think I was obsessed over a thoughtless, insignificant comment.

“If you don’t mind…” I said.

The video was getting hotter by the second, and I was pretty sure that the man’s girlfriend, a slender nymph of a redhead, about to walk in on them. I really wanted to see her get involved.

I settled down and–

Started–

Ruu-uubb-iiingggg….

I was naked, still wildly turned on, and had fully endorsed an “open masturbation” house policy. It would have been hypocritical not to start doing it. Any cool mom would indulge herself in these circumstances. I just hoped that with the sexy visual stimulus, I’d finally be able to cum.

The threesome would be starting soon, the girlfriend stomping her feet in anger, acting all indignant. How dare you fuck our babysitter!! Didn’t redhead know everything could be smoothed over with a good fuck? I basked in the heat of the situation. I loved porn logic.

Predictably, Sean became much more interested in me than the porno. I couldn’t blame him. Why watch porn when he had a real live slut in front of him? Still, I wished he would keep his eyes on the porno, to not make it weird, to let me jill off in peace—

“Show me everything.” He ordered, when he noticed my legs obscuring the view slightly. “I want you to describe what you’re doing. It can be a cool little lesson.”

But porno, as much as I love it, is no substitute for reality. He would learn all the wrong lessons. Like, look at how that whore, the man’s exciteable minxy girlfriend, is taking his cock without an ounce of foreplay. Blondie Babysitter barely even ate her out! So unrealistic, even though it’s fucking hot to watch.

I opened my thighs so he could see what I was doing. Sean moved closer.

“When I’m nice and wet… that’s when I start to rub my clit.” I explained. Of course, I was soaking and swollen with arousal, but I had to go slow, so Sean could get a good look. I couldn’t cum, not yet.

“That’s this part, right here.”

God, I was leaking.

“And what about if I do this?” Sean asked, and pinched one of my nipples.

“Oooohhhhh!!”

I rubbed my clit faster now, unable to stave off her driving need to be touched, needing to just finally cum.

“You’re really rubbing it, Mrs. L.”

“I– hhaahh– speed up when my clit’s ready for it.” I explained. “It starts off sensitive, but then— going harder becomes better—- and you can really—- go at it–!”

I was trying to cum now. I’d had enough waiting, enough edging, and for just this moment I wanted to prioritize me. But something was still holding me back, a dam blocking the release I so badly craved, a wall stopping me–

“So cool…” Sean said under his breath. He squeezed and flicked and pinched my nipples while I played. Why– couldn’t– I–!!

Then I remembered what Sean said. I needed his permission. Needed his permission to cum. Cool moms need. Permission. Permit me. Permit.

“Please–” I choked. “Can I please–”

I couldn’t bear to finish the question, but I needed to finsih. I would cum on my own– I didn’t need Sean to– to–

He let go of my nipples, leaving me to my own devices. I bucked and rubbed and fingered and– The wall closed in on me, suffocating me, and though the idea that only Sean could help was absurd, ridiculous, untrue, I had to try, because otherwise– otherwise I would never–!

“Pleeeeeease, Sean!!” I gasped.

“Okay, Mrs. Lopez. Show me how you cum.”

“Oh god—-!!”

I couldn’t focus on words anymore. Sean had just given me permission, and as much as I didn’t want to need it, I needed it. My pussy needed it. The dam broke, easily, suddenly, at his words, and I ushered in the orgasm, my soaked fingers a blur on my juicy, hot wet cunt.

“Aaa-aahh!!” I cried, a sweaty, quivering mess of slut. It was a real woman’s orgasm, wet and messy and truthful, not that fake display on TV. He watched intently and– God I hoped he was paying attention because– it was so important that he see me cum! This was his orgasm. It was for him, and from and it was all the better for it.

The full-bodied agony faded and left blissful peace.

Back on Earth, the soaked cushion was cooling rapidly on my bare butt. I’d created quite a mess. But that was okay. It was important for the lesson that Sean see what a messy slut I was.

“That was really, really hot, Mrs. L. No other mom would ever be so cool not to cum until I said so.”

Sean was holding his erect cock. When did that happen? Had he been masturbating to my lesson? He was supposed to be paying attention! No surprise he was a bad student.

Still, he’d just given me a compliment. A very nice compliment. What other mom would be so candid to her son’s friends as to get off in front of them? And if she did, would she hold off her own pleasure until she was certain they were ready to see her cum? Would wait all day, painstakingly, for permission?

“Thanks, Sean… Thank you soooo much.”

The words dripped out like heavy syrup. I could almost taste them over my tongue, sweetened with warm gooey gratitude, so pleasing to the lips. Unbidden, I crawled achingly to him, taking his cock in my hands, stroking it, pumping it, fingers slippery with my juices, gliding up and down his shaft for the second time today.

“Thank you Sean… Thank you…” Pumping. Stroking.

“But I’m not gonna jack you off again.” I mewed, laying down the law, sticking to my word.

I told him before I was only going to do this once.

So I–

Kissed it.

The shaft was warm on my sweet lips, his hardness begging for more kisses, which I gave him, a kiss on every inch, wet kisses, hungry kisses, until I was slipping the entire member into my mouth.

As I pleasured him, I didn’t know whether I was thanking Sean for his compliment or for the orgasm he allowed me to have.