Community Mothers -- Illustrated

I can hear them talking after she opens the door to her son's bedroom. A moment later, they're both walking down the hall together. Bobby is a normal young man, youthful in appearance, and he's wearing a tshirt and shorts. What strikes me about them is that it's so obvious they're mother/son. They have the same hair color. Similar facial features. Their skin color is also alike.

That's my favorite kind of incest, when they're a lot alike.

I move to the smaller seat so Jennifer and Bobby can sit together on the couch. I wonder if Jennifer knows how aroused her son is. Don't get me wrong, they're both nervous, and Bobby has all the hallmarks of a virgin, but I can sense the blood flow to his cock. The young man is excited for this first time, but the taboo of doing this with mom is making his hands tremble. Jennifer has the same apprehension as well, but for a different reason. She's terrified of losing her stature as a mother.

We talk for a bit and Bobby explains their touching relationship. I get the sense that he's only saying what his mother wants to hear, but at the same time, the process is working. His demeanor seems different from the pictures hanging on the walls. More confident. The promise of good pussy will do that to a young man.

"Be honest, what's your biggest fear?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment. "That my mother hates doing this. And that she'll slowly start to resent me for doing these favors. That's what she calls this, favors."

"You think your mom resents you?"

"I'm not sure. She seems... I don't know... rigid when we do anything. Like her body is stiff when it's happening."

"That's normal for a mother."

"Really?" he says.

"Think about it. She's your mother. Of course she's going to be rigid about this."

"Yeah, that's true."

"Honestly, you'd be surprised what's cooking in your mother's imagination. Just like you, mothers have secret fantasies and desires, the only difference is that they can't be open about it."

"That's hard to imagine," Bobby says.

"Why?"

"I never saw my mother as a sexual person."

"Even though you saw her nude pictures?"

"That was made a long time ago."

"A woman's sexuality never truly goes away. Want proof?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Pull your shorts down. Underwear too."

You can hear a pin drop it's so quiet. Bobby's jaw hangs and his eyes widen, like he can't believe I'd actually say that. I'm focused on his actions, but in the corner of my eye, I notice Jennifer tensing. It's like they both knew this was a possibility, both prepared for it, but they can't believe it's happening.

Bobby looks to his mother, who gives a curt nod of approval, then he pulls his shorts down, followed a moment later by his underwear to reveal his erection. The young man's cock must have been like that for a while and now it gets to breathe. More importantly, to be loved by mom.

She does what she's been thinking about doing for the last week, pulling her hair back, bending over her son's lap. As someone who's spent two decades working with clients who make big decisions, I consider myself pretty good at reading body language. In many ways I know people better than they know themselves.

All indications tell me that Jennifer is consumed by the gravity of the situation. She can feel the weight of her actions, the consequences of her decision, and there's no return. She's become one of us, someone who holds a dark secret that she can never make public.

Bobby leans his head back against the couch and moans, while Jennifer hums along while her head bobs. The bond between mother and son has never been stronger.

I undo my pants and slide everything to my ankles, they don't notice what I'm doing, not yet anyway. I start touching myself with my eyes watching them. I move my fingers at the same pace Jennifer bobs her head. I want to cum when Bobby does, the same time Jennifer gets her mouth filled.

When the young man starts panting for air, Jennifer goes harder, because of course she would. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this is her goal. Perhaps she wasn't honest with herself, or maybe she wasn't honest with me, but somewhere in the back of her mind she'd been preparing for this moment. Our first meeting must have planted something deep within her psyche that this approach is the best.

Bobby grunts, his body writhes, and Jennifer forces herself to take everything. While the young man is cumming, I bring myself to an orgasm as well. Leaking on the chair, then on their carpet. It's a way of marking my territory here. After swallowing, both mother and son look at me, bewildered by their actions, shocked by my state of undress and masturbation.

***

Two weeks later my home comes to life as members of the book club arrive. It's expected to be a full house, women in their best blouses or dresses. Most women are in their 40s and 50s. Drinks of freshly squeezed juice in their hands. Everyone takes their seats around the living room area, forming a loose circle.

Jennifer steps out of the bathroom completely nude. Head to toe. This is her third time here, but first time being undressed and showing off her body. Her hair is tied behind her back and she decided to wear glasses for this. She's so nervous she tiptoes her bare feet on the carpet. Nipples erect. The women in the room like what they see. They admire her. Wish they had her body. Especially the older women.

When she takes a deep gulp, I'm reminded of myself, because I know how terrifying it is to perform something so intimate for others. But I had invited her for this and she accepted. The reasoning is, social cohesion between the mothers is achieved once the most intimate moment is witnessed by all.

She steps into the center of the living room and does a small twirl, something reminiscent of her younger days when she modeled nude, the event that inadvertently triggered this moment. That's one of the few things she's mentioned about her past, how she used to dance, how her spirit was different when she was young and carefree.

We've had late night conversations about how she's been fucking her son. Last week she called me at midnight because she couldn't sleep after doing the unthinkable. Going to her son's bedroom, riding him in the dark. Days ago she called me at 10 p.m. to discuss the same thing. Both times I had to go to the living room so I could talk privately without waking anyone. The weight of what she'd been doing was too heavy on her heart and she needed a friend to help process the situation.

The other day, she called me in the afternoon while I was preparing a house showing, and she was in the office. That was the most arousing, that she was so conflicted with herself that she had to sneak off to the bathroom so she could discuss this. I imagined her in that professional outfit she wears, that duality of herself. Dressed up for work, thinking of her son's cock.

In my living room Bobby approaches his mother and pulls his tshirt off. Jennifer gets on her knees, pulling the shorts down. The eyes of the community women lust after that young cock. A few lick their lips, especially the older ones.

Breathing becomes louder in the living room when Jennifer starts sucking. The woman sitting next to me, Grace, a Burmese woman in her late 40's, clutches her pearl necklace while this is happening. Barbara, one of the oldest of the group, is taken aback and presses her legs together. Most can contain themselves, as if they're watching a Broadway play and they're enjoying the fine art.

For me, sound is as important as sight when it comes to these events. Jennifer sucking and slurping is the most prominent music here. Followed by breathing and women sipping their drinks with more zeal than how they'd normally drink. Horny experiences can dry a woman's throat and that's exactly what's happening here.

Once in a while there are faint whispers, women putting their lips to the ear of the woman sitting near them. I can hear everything because I listen attentively.

"My son's cock is bigger."

"Oh? Mine has a smaller one, I prefer that."

"Goodness, those lips, that dick."

"I hope she stays with our group forever."

Jennifer keeps her hands on her knees while sucking, Bobby stroking her hair. Her pose is formal, upright, a dancer's pose from her youth. I often wonder about her youth before she went corporate later in life. Those are often the nastiest moms because they're so repressed. Going from one extreme to the other. Little time for pleasure. It explains why she leaped to fucking and sucking her son so fast. These events must have triggered a deep longing within her.

After a few grunts, Bobby announces that he's going to cum, which makes the women lean closer. All eyes are on Jennifer's mouth now, the women want to see her eat it. This wasn't something that we discussed, but it's always assumed that there's going to be swallowing. In the same pose, Jennifer extends her tongue and tilts her head back. Bobby jerks. Cums. The aim is fantastic and the first several spurts hit the back of her throat and coat her tongue and mouth. She holds the pose, looking up at her son. The remaining cumshots hit her breasts and the rest lands on my carpet.

When it's over the women come and congratulate her. It's like she just recited poetry or read chapters of a book she wrote. Their congratulation is intellectual in a sense, like an appreciation for fine art, rather than the incestuous blowjob that it was. Jennifer's face is beet red but she's glad she's done this, and when I talk to her later, I'm sure she'll confess her deep arousal.

She rushes to the bathroom to get her clothes and Bobby is left alone to bask in the glory. The women are talking to him, asking about home life with mom. He's still naked and two of the women clean his cock with their mouths, then later with tissue. I wonder how Jennifer will feel that two other women had sucked him. This is a constant point of debate amongst the group, the rules of touching another woman's son. The general consensus is that it's fine as long as you're helping to 'clean' someone rather than trying to upstage another woman.

We enjoy a nice lunch, food that the women brought, and we sit around my house having different conversations. Jennifer could hardly eat, keeping her head down, while holding a plate and sitting near the window.

"You should be proud," I say.

"Maybe someday I'll feel that way. It might take a while to process this."

"That's a sign of good moral values. Not too slutty. Not too prudish."

After that I check on Bobby, who's still basking in the glory of the gift he'd received. I don't think men truly understand the power dynamic of a woman taking a cock into her mouth. Our thoughts, ideas and feelings are communicated and expressed through our mouths. Our voices and words come from there. It's a submissive act, but also an act that gives women power to control and give pleasure. Like I said, I don't expect men to understand, except perhaps our sons.

Having said that, Bobby's confidence is at an all-time high. A new man. But the process for Jennifer is still ongoing. Too many sexual favors and Bobby could become an asshole. Too little and his confidence may be stilted. That's where my experience comes into play.

As a group we finalize the next book. Gina, a high school counselor, recommends "The Sound and Fury" by William Faulkner, the legendary author. Gina describes the plot, but her eyes have a mischievous gleam when she discusses the incest theme woven into the literary classic. Of course we agree that it should be the next reading, though everyone hides their giddiness over the taboo theme.

It's always amusing when the women leave. They put on their shoes and step out into the real world, heading toward their cars parked on the street. Cars pass by. Sometimes people are walking on the sidewalk. If they're polite the passersby will wave. Neighbors who I'm friends with always say hello.

No one has any idea that these diverse mothers of the community are all fucking and sucking their sons at home. If I ever decide to tell anyone, I'm positive they'd laugh, sure that I'm making an obscene joke. But it's not a joke. That's what I love about this. I know the deepest secrets of these mothers. They know mine.

The End

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