Side Effects 02 - Beyond Desired Effects

Unable to take his eyes off her bare breasts, Stan fumbled with his thoughts. What was she asking? Didn't she know how to jerk him off? Of course she did, she'd done it before. Oh, she wants me to rub her while she rubs me. Yeah, how to make that work. He really just wanted to feel her tits. He moved his hands, letting his cock pop free. Another surge of desire blasted through him knowing his mom was looking at his dick.

"Uh, maybe I'll lay down, you sit on my stomach. I should be able to reach around you and rub you." He adjusted his position aware of his erection waggling around. She straddled him, twisting the cap off the tube.

Reaching up, Stan placed his hands on her breasts. He felt his cock stiffen more, bounce, throb.

"Doesn't look as though you need any more stimulation." Beth peaked at him then turned forward again. She squeezed lubricant into her hand, smeared it onto his cock. Stan gasped in a breath.

"Cold?" she asked.

"No, no. Just feels great." Stan couldn't believe how incredible it felt to have her hands caressing him. He slipped his hands down her body, to her crotch, worked his fingers to stimulate her.

"Mmm, that's nice," she crooned. Her hands slid up and down his shaft, massaged the head, slick with the lubricant. Stan grew concerned he would cum too soon. He wanted the sensations to last.

He shifted a bit, moved one hand under her buttocks, reached under her to rub her pussy. He wished her pants weren't in the way, they made it more difficult, probably reduced her stimulation as well. There wasn't anything he could do about that, so he concentrated on being as attentive as he could. That helped reduce the feelings of what she was doing to him. He felt his hips pressing up in time with her hands pressing down. The sound of the lubricant snapping was erotic for some reason.

They worked at each other for a while, giving soft grunts and moans, hinting at the sensations they were experiencing. Twice, Stan had her lay back even though that meant she had to stop masturbating him. It allowed him to work at her pussy easier, better. Her breathing deepened, sweat broke out on her neck, along her back, so he knew she was enjoying it.

When she sat back up, gripping him again, it was as intense a feeling as the first time she put hands on his cock. Stan felt the building pressure in his balls, knew he was going to cum. He didn't think she was close to that level yet, but thought, if he finished, he could give her better attention.

"Beth, I'm going to cum," he warned her. "Is that ok?"

"Of course, it is." She peaked back at him again, her smile exposing her teeth. "That's why we're here."

"But what about you." The words puffed out of Stan, he was almost there.

"Doesn't mean we have to stop."

And then Stan blasted semen. Beth wrapped her hand around the head of his dick to catch it, keep it from spattering everywhere. His hips pumped up and down, surges of cum spewing out of him. It was an incredible feeling, so much more intense and satisfying than cumming in his pants. She continued to rub him. Long, slow, strokes, squeezing the head of his penis, gentle. She crooned to him, "That's it. Give it all to me," until the waves of pleasure pulsing through him grew less intense.

He lay spent, the afterglow lulling his body. His eyes grew heavy.

"How was that?" Her question roused him from his stupor.

"That was amazing. Incredible."

"That's how it should be. I feel good about helping you experience that."

"Now its your turn." Stan struggled to adjust his position. "Lay back again. I can get at you better that way."

She lay back on his chest and he put one hand back to her pussy. The other went to her breasts. "Do you like this?" he asked.

"Very much." She placed a hand on his that was kneading her boob. Pressed him, guided him to slower motions. "Mmm, yes, like that."

He kept working at her, switching hands, trying to bring her to an orgasm like she'd given him. After a while she sighed, "Something's just not quite right. I love what you're doing to me but, I can't seem to get there."

Stan had an idea. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes," she said with uncertainty in her voice.

"Good." With that, he slipped one hand down the front of her pants, under her panty, over her pubic hair and into the moistness of her vagina.

She gasped, one hand gripping his arm. Stan was certain she was going to make him stop, and he would if she did, but then she relaxed. Her hips pumped with renewed energy. She made a sound, low in her throat, like a cat purring. Stan worked his fingers in and out of her pussy, slick and warm and exciting. I'm really masturbating my mom, ricocheted in his brain.

Shivers coursed through her body with such intensity that Stan could feel them where she lay against him. Her pussy worked on his hand, rubbing, pumping, grinding against his fingers. She uttered little squeals while she convulsed. Stan had to grip her chest to keep her from thrashing right off him, off the couch. He held her like that, his pussy hand still working in and out of her, slow, like when she'd brought him down from his orgasm. Then she moaned and renewed thrashing. Stan intensified his fingering her, letting her clitoris rub on the edge of his hand. She pumped and pumped against him, now sopping with sweat, tremors racking through her.

After a full minute, she began to slow. She gasped for air, her breath whooshing in and out.

"Wow," she finally spoke. "That was unexpected, but so wonderful." She cupped his face with one hand, turned her head and made a kissing motion. Her pelvis continued to rock against his hand, slow, gentle. He stayed, massaging her until she moved.

Twisting, raising herself on one elbow she looked at him. "Thanks for that Stan. It was amazing." She slapped at him in a playful manner, light, more just brushing him with her fingertips. "We better get cleaned up."

Then she was up, gone. Stan lay there, an arm across his forehead, savoring the lingering aftereffects of their sex. Was that really sex? Had he just had sex with his mom? Well, they hadn't been fucking, but it was a sexual experience. Giving up on trying to categorize it, Stan just settled for having enjoyed it. He headed for a shower of his own, wondering what their next session might bring.