Smacking That Ass

Brent, meanwhile, was plunging as deep in her pussy as he could, bouncing his glans off her trampolining cervix. Her convulsing pussy grew tighter and tighter as her rolling orgasms petrified her internal muscles. It felt like multiple strong, oily hands were grappling with each other to see who could grip his cock the tightest. At last, just as he bottomed out inside her, he felt a contraction crush his balls, disgorging their contents into his dilated urethra and firing out a fierce jet of white heat into his mother's body.

Poppy shrieked as the searing hot cum flooding her insides forced her body into the most perfect white flare of bliss she'd ever known. Every muscle in her body crystallized in an instant and she felt her blood vessels might burst under the pressure. Her heart stuttered and floundered in her chest and her voice trailed off into a silent scream.

Brent, uncorked, was pouring an endless stream of seed into her. It came out in thick spurts that rolled up from the base of his length and dragged out his protracted orgasm with each release. Even as the torrent tapered off he managed to pull his cock out of her gasping pussy with a wet slop and fire several more withering salvos across her ass cheeks.

The flesh there was still quivering with confused muscular contractions as Brent used his sperm as a salve on his mother's sore bottom. Then, when his cum began to work its way out of her like a faucet leaking wallpaper glue, Brent caught it on his semi-hard cock. Using this as a paintbrush, he meticulously glazed her entire backside with his spunk.

Poppy could only drape herself helplessly over the sofa, drooling from both ends. Never had she been so completely captivated in her life. It was like coming down from the most potent drug known to man. She could still feel the rubbery thickness of her son's cock rubbing against her ass cheeks. It felt incredible, the combination of residual sting and the cooling effect of his drying cum. Brent was a genius with his cock.

When he'd finished his masterpiece, Brent gave her a final slap on her right cheek with his dick. Even limp it was hung like a bell-rope with a knot in the end and made her exhausted body jerk convulsively one last time.

"Good girl," He repeated, smoothing her hair, which she realized when he touched it, had to be in a complete state. She could feel his eyes roaming over her naked, cum-glazed body but did not care. She welcomed it. She glowed all over with a pleasant warmth that sank through her skin, deep down into her bones. This, she now knew, was what it felt to be satisfied.

"Next time you'll listen sooner and maybe we can focus more on the carrot than the stick." He seized a hank of her dark hair at the back of her head and used it to turn her face. Her eyes were wet and bovine in her exhaustion. He planted a firm kiss on her lips. She did not have the energy or the will to protest. She felt warmth trickle down inside her, already beginning the process of filling the depleted tank of her libido. Brent's kiss was like no other. It was brutally direct but with tender notes that set the butterflies in her belly madly fluttering. She found her mouth opening, her tongue reaching out to entwine with his. She dissolved into him. When he abruptly broke the kiss she nearly toppled forward, a pathetic whimper escaping her throat. She looked away when she saw her son's knowing grin. Releasing her hair, he ran a thumb over her cheekbone before strolling out the room, lower half still bare, his pants and underwear folded neatly over his arm.

Poppy hugged the couch, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Her tingling nethers and ass stuck out and a trickle of cum was still dribbling down her inner thigh. She felt wonderful. She felt sated for the first time in her life.

The next morning Poppy awoke and stretched languidly after the best night's sleep of her life. Though her bottom had smarted when she'd finally managed to haul herself up and into a bath last night, this morning she barely felt the bruising. The tenderness she did feel only served as a welcome reminder of Brent's attentions. When she pulled up her nightie to look at her ass in the mirror she was mildly disappointed to see the marks he'd left were already almost imperceptible. Her boy was truly gifted.

She dressed carefully and arrived at breakfast to find Brent sitting across from Charlie. Brent's eyes immediately turned to her and followed her with blazing heat. Charlie did not even look up from his tablet as Poppy placed a hand on his thinning, gray hair and said, "You're home early."

Charlie shrugged and drawled, "I caught the red-eye. Just got in a few minutes ago and thought I'd join Brent for breakfast. It's so seldom that he chooses to grace us with his presence." There was remonstration in his voice, but Poppy and Brent both knew it was all show, with no substance to back it up.

Brent did not look away from Poppy. Despite her earlier composure, she was suddenly very self-conscious. Her form-fitting business suit felt like it was melting under his gaze. His eyes traveled down to her legs and when they landed there one of his thick eyebrows went up almost imperceptibly. So did one corner of his mouth. Poppy had to clutch the back of Charlie's chair to steady herself as heat pulsed through her pussy. Rapidly she settled into a chair at the table before her legs threatened to buckle.

"Lay off, dad," Brent said casually, waving a half-eaten slice of toast in the air, "You know I've been busy. But," a light danced in his eyes as he locked gazes with Poppy, "I think I might try and make it home a bit more often in the future. You know, spend a bit more time with you." From his expression Poppy had no doubt which "you" he was directing this at. She resisted the urge to clutch at her pounding heart.

"That'll be nice, won't it dear?" When the breathless Poppy failed to answer Charlie asked again: "Dear?" He finally glanced up from his device to give her a querying look. He looked over her outfit, from her tailored suit jacket to her hip-hugging skirt and, what had gained a reaction from even Brent's stony visage, a pair of sheer thigh-high stockings.

"Going somewhere?" Charlie managed after clearing his throat. His watery, gray eyes lingered on her legs. Poppy felt her calmness seeping back after the onslaught of Brent's undiluted charisma. She knew how to play this game.

Crossing and recrossing her legs, knowing neither of the men at the table would be able to look away, she answered coolly, "I have a brunch meeting with a new client today. He's only in town for the weekend, so I agreed to meet him this morning." She looked her husband dead in the eye and dared him to question her.

Charlie held her stare a moment and his creased mouth moved like he might say something. Then, as ever, he returned his gaze to his device and capitulated with a, "Fine, dear."

Poppy glared at Brent when she saw his barely restrained amusement. She added, "I should be back around lunchtime, do you want me to pick you something up?"

Charlie waved her away dismissively and replied, "Nah. I'm off to have a nap now, but then I've arranged to have lunch at the club with Albie and Ron." He turned to his son and asked, "What do you say, Brent? Are you up for a round this afternoon? Ron booked us a 3 o'clock tee-off and we have space for a fourth."

Brent said, "No thanks, dad. I've just realized I have something that needs my urgent attention this afternoon. Fortunately I reckon I won't have to go into the office, I can do it from here." He let his gaze sink slowly down until it rested on the provocative sheen of his mother's long, nylon-covered legs. "It's going to be a real pain in the ass, but it has to be done." As he spoke he let his hand come to rest on the buckle of his belt.

Charlie gave the pair of them a confused look as he heard the barest moan escape Poppy's lips. She reflexively placed her hands on her lower belly, attempting to soothe the squirming desire. Charlie shook his head and went back to what he was doing, missing entirely the heated looks that passed between his wife and son.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Poppy said, trying to downplay the sultriness threatening to take over her voice, "I'll be back by then. Perhaps I can help you."

"I'm sure you can," Brent's incisors flashed like a hungry carnivore's. Under the table she squeezed her thighs together and worried her husband might hear the squelch of her reawakening desire. She had to get up and leave. If she stayed any longer she'd soak through her skirt. What was Brent going to do to her when he found out she wasn't wearing any panties? She had to pause at the door and take a few deep breaths to calm down at that thought.

"See you later," she added breathily and left with the satisfaction of knowing Brent's eyes would follow her swaying backside all the way to the front hall. Yes, Poppy had been a good girl all her life. She really had earned the right to be just a little bad.