0 comments/ 54535 views/ 0 favorites The Johnsons By: johnniedee004 During World war II, the English suffered many shortages. Rationing of food and luxuries was severe, leading to much black marketeering. Imported goods in particular, were in short supply. Tobacco, sugar, tea and so forth. Sex was also in short supply, with most young men sent to fight the enemy, leaving sex-starved wives and girl friends at home. Johnnie grew up during the war years. Herbert Johnson and his wife Emily, owned the local newsagent and sweet shop. From being fourteen years old, Johnnie earned his spending money by delivering papers in the early morning, the afternoon after school and on Sunday mornings. Being wartime, the newspapers were only a few pages so many could be packed into one paper bag and Johnnie would leave home at quarter to six in the morning, returning at eight o'clock after delivering two rounds, in time for a wash, a slice of bread and jam, before shouting 'Tara mum' up the staircase as he left for school. As soon as he got back home at half past four in the afternoon he took a further round of papers - sometimes two if another paper-boy hadn't turned up. He was paid 7/6 a week for three paper rounds and a Sunday round. He kept 2/6, giving the other 5/- to his mother to help out with the housekeeping expenses. By this time the three elder brothers and sisters had left home. Two were in the armed forces whilst the eldest sister had married and was living in a small house a mile away. Mr Johnson was unfit for the armed forces but was a warden in the local ARP. This involved being on duty in the boiler room beneath the infants school. Johnnie would keep him company where Mr Johnson taught him to play chess over pint mugs of strong sweet tea. The heat from the boiler kept the basement cosy with the constant acrid smell of the burning coke in the background. When Johnnie was eighteen going on nineteen it was arranged that Mr and Mrs Johnson would take their usual separate holidays. The couple who usually helped on these occasions were not able to cover for them this year so they decided to ask Johnnie if he would be willing. It was during the school holidays and they would pay him two pounds ten shillings each week. For this, he would help to mark up the morning papers and help behind the counter. There were two morning paper rounds to deliver and two afternoon rounds. He would have to be at the shop by six in the morning until six in the evening with the afternoons off. Johnnie already knew most of the regular customers to whom he was allowed to sell cigarettes. Non regulars who asked for cigarettes were told that they'd run out of stock. 'There might be some coming in tomorrow' they were told. When the wholesaler called with their supply they'd try to persuade him to let them have a few more packets of the popular brands. Woodbines and Capstan full-strength. They might be allowed a few extra if they were prepared to take some of the less popular brands. Turkish and Balkan varieties perhaps! Johnnie's parents had no objections to him helping out the Johnsons and, besides, they would be in St Annes themselves for the second week. And so it was agreed. On the Friday before Mrs Johnson and Graham left for their week on the south coast Mr Johnson suggested to Johnnie that he should sleep at the shop to avoid waking his family at five in the morning. There was Graham's bed, but it would be more convenient all round if Johnnie shared Mr Johnson's bed. So this was also agreed. They spent cosy evenings in front of the fire playing chess or other board game until the time came for the evening news and bed. Mr Johnson wasn't a drinker, allowing himself a night cap on some evenings. Towards the end of the week, Mr Johnson had drunk rather more whisky than usual and had given Johnnie two glasses of red wine. As they clambered into bed, for some reason he couldn't explain, Mr Johnson decided that Johnnie should be given some advice about sex. Johnnie didn't know why, either, but he was told in a voice which was a little slurred, that although self abuse was sinful it wasn't as terrible as molesting girls or raping women for gratification, which was worse by far. 'If you feel the urge, as I'm sure you do being a young healthy lad, then a cold bath or a good long walk can help to expel the Devil's temptation. There are times, though, when you just have to give in to him for your own peace of mind. I suppose you feel the need every week or so and I'm sure God will forgive you if you are repentant.' As he lay there on his back, sinking in to the soft mattress, Johnnie thought himself some sort of freak, feeling the need to masturbate daily - sometimes more than once in a day - rather than every week or so. But he grunted acknowledgment of the awareness. He was glad the light was out and Mr Johnson couldn't see his deep blushes. 'And as you get older, you'll find the urge still comes upon you, but perhaps not quite as often. Even when you're married, there are times when you need to satisfy yourself. It's a personal thing. But don't forget what we are taught by the Old Testament - that it's the women who are the temptresses and we can still thwart the Devil by not giving in to them.' Johnnie became aware of Mr Johnson's arm movement and in dawned on him with acute embarrassment that he was quietly and deliberately stroking his prick. After a brief silence broken only by Mr Johnson's breathing, he was asked 'Don't tell me if you don't want, but I wonder if you've ever held another man's penis?' Johnnie's mind was racing but he told himself that if Mr Johnson thought him adult enough to be asked the question, he was adult enough to answer, particularly with the courage the wine had given. However, he wasn't sufficiently experienced in adulthood to realise the hidden implication in the question. Besides, Mr Johnson was too much under the influence of the whiskies he'd drunk. 'Well, when I was a bit younger I suppose. Once or twice. With my mate.' 'Not with an older man?' So Johnnie recounted the story of the stranger in the cinema. The stranger had come to sit in the next seat to him near the front of the cinema one Saturday afternoon. This seemed odd to Johnnie because, the cinema was sparsely attended, there were plenty of seats. As the main film had got under way, whilst he peered up at the silver screen, the stranger took hold of Johnnie's hand and placed it in his lap. The stranger's flies were open, Johnnie's hand being firmly laid on the stiff penis sticking out from his trousers. Johnnie glanced down out of the corner of his eyes without moving his head, but the stranger had draped his raincoat over his lap. The hand wrapped Johnnie's fingers round the shaft before moving it up and down. At first, Johnnie wasn't sure what was happening. When the penny dropped, he didn't know what else to do other than pretend that nothing was happening. It wasn't very long before the stranger put Johnnie's hand over the top of the stiff shaft to feel a gush of warm liquid flood his fingers and palm. After a few moments of stillness, the stranger released Johnnie's hand sliding his own hand over Johnnie's lap to begin fumbling with his trouser flies. He decided that this was the time to get up and go. He did. During the telling of the story, Mr Johnson had taken hold of Johnnie's right hand, repeating the action of the stranger in the cinema. 'Here we go again!' thought Johnnie still in a befuddled state with the alcohol. 'Oh well!' he shrugged mentally and he continued to recount the end of the tale. Mr Johnson had turned back the bedclothes in the dark, opening his pyjamas jacket. As Johnnie reached the end of his story, Mr Johnson started to intone 'The Lord is my shepherd'. When got to the bit about 'rod and staff they comfort me' his bottom left the mattress as he squirted his offering over his ample belly. Johnnie could see the vague picture in the dark and became suddenly sober. He was deeply embarrassed. As Mr Johnson took a handkerchief from his pyjamas jacket to dry himself, Johnnie turned onto his right side, comforting his own hard erection as he closed his eyes. The next morning his head was throbbing and there was very little conversation passed between them as they prepared the paper rounds. After breakfast Johnnie felt better. Mr Johnson said that they had perhaps drunk rather more then was good for them and had perhaps behaved in a way which they would not have done had they been sober. But he had asked the Lord's forgiveness and hoped he had Johnnie's, and that the matter was closed never to be mentioned again - nor even remembered. Emily Johnson was a tall, heavy-hipped, watchful woman of few words. When she did speak, her voice was soft but firm. She took no nonsense from any of her customers who had long ago stopped trying to ask her for goods on credit. 'Our policy has always been and will always continue to be cash with goods' she would tell them, 'but there's no harm in asking; providing you don't ask a second time.' She had a large pallid face with a straight, well-proportioned imposing nose with watchful brown eyes which would often gaze at you without any expression as though trying to bury into your thoughts. It was certainly not possible to tell from her expression what she was thinking. Her mouth was of generous size with full, though strangely colourless lips and her jaw was heavy. She rarely smiled, and was never known to laugh, perhaps to hide her large, irregular, teeth, though more likely because she saw little to smile or laugh about. But when she did manage a smile it was usually a sad one, though occasionally a real happy smile would light up her face with an unexpected radiance which suggested that perhaps she was once an eager, happy girl. A photograph of her wedding, which took pride of place on the sideboard in the living room, showed the bride and groom with the new Mrs Johnson, all in white, in one of her happier moment. But now, her greying mahogany hair was combed back into a bun with unruly wisps escaping the arrangement. Her back was straight and her bosom, which had the appearance of a misshapen cushion stuffed inside her dress, was well hidden behind the inevitable flowered apron over an old woollen skirt, cotton blouse and dark green, home-knitted cardigan. She reminded Johnnie of one of those stern ladies he saw occasionally in the cartoons of Punch addressing a small insignificant-looking customer across the counter. 'Chocolate? Cigarettes? Don't you know there's a war on!' Johnnie had no idea of her age guessing she must be about the same age as his mother. The week following her holiday with their son, Graham, it became Mr Johnson's turn to have a week's holiday on the south coast, in the sun. Johnnie was to continue helping in the shop in a general way, making up paper rounds early in the morning, delivering two rounds morning and afternoon, and dusting and cleaning the shop when not serving customers. The day came for Mr Johnson and Graham to leave with suitcases and a camera - a pride and joy of Mr Johnson's - and to take a taxi (a rare treat with the petrol shortage) to the railway station. Mrs Johnson and Johnnie waved them off until the taxi was lost in the distance. 'Time for a cup of tea before the afternoon papers arrive' said Mrs Johnson as they returned into the shop and locked the door behind them. They went into the little side-kitchen behind the shop counter, separated from it by a curtain, where Mrs Johnson put the electric kettle on, put two spoons of tea-leaves into the tea-pot and cut a small slice from a fruit loaf, scraping a little butter over it. After the kettle had boiled and the tea had brewed, they sat in the living room, in front of the low fire, with their tea and cake. Mrs Johnson brought up the question of sleeping arrangements. 'Unless your mother has any objections, you can sleep here this week as well. It'll save disturbing your family at home, getting up so early in the morning. If she has any worries, ask her to come and see me about them so that I can put her mind at rest.' Johnnie said it seemed a good idea. With his own parents being away, he wouldn't have to worry about hearing the alarm clock. 'Right!' she said, 'I suggest you have a good bath at home after we've shut up for the night and come back when you're ready after you've had your tea.' Johnnie's mother wasn't too keen on the arrangement. 'She can't stay in the house on her own, mum.' 'Why not? There's plenty others what do. An' if there's a burglar what good d'ye think you'll be?' 'Look Mum! You and dad'll be away and you know what I'm like getting up in a morning. If I don't hear the alarm I'll be late and, in any case, I'm getting paid for it so you'll be better off.' That argument touched the mark. 'Ay, well, I don't like it. It's not right, an' am surprised at Mrs Johnson even suggesting it. What'll folk think?' 'Nay folk don't bother about that sort of thing these days. They've their own lives to worry about. It's 1946, mum, not 1846.' 'An' more's the pity. Folk knew how to behave in them days. An' what yer dad'll have to say, I don't know.' As it happened, his dad had very little to say. 'A've never liked them Johnsons, as you know, but that's not to say there's owt wrong wi 'em. She's alright I suppose; better ner 'im. Don't ask me why.' So the discussion was closed, Johnnie settled down to his home-work and, when the time came, went back to the shop for the afternoon papers. 'Mum doesn't mind me staying with you' he told Mrs Johnson 'providing I'm not a nuisance to you.' 'You'll not be that, lad, I'll see to that.' After the shop closed for the evening, Johnnie went home for his tea, did a bit more home-work, had a bath and washed his hair. He packed clean pyjamas, socks and other clothes into a paper carrier bag with 'Joe Fellows, Family Butcher' printed on it's side. He stuck his toothbrush in his coat pocket, said tarra to his Mum and went across to the shop and down the side alley to the back door. Mrs Johnson opened the door to him. 'You can use the outside lavatory Johnnie and wash in the wash-house.' He glanced over to the corner of the small flagged yard where the brick water closet with sloping stone slate roof was set back to back with the wash-house. 'Alright' he said. After all, it was summer and warm. And he wouldn't be in Mrs Johnson's way when he wanted to use the lavatory, or be embarrassed having to use the lavatory. Mrs Johnson went into the side-kitchen to put the kettle on and prepare a small pan of hot milk. As she stirred the mixture of milk and water into the cocoa mugs she said 'You shared Mr Johnson's bed last week Johnnie, didn't you? Do you snore, or make other rude noises in bed?' He said not that he was aware of. and was sure that Mr Johnson would have said something to him if he did. She brought the two mugs of cocoa into the living room and put them on the table. 'Ah, but Mr Johnson's a heavy sleeper and wouldn't waken if a bomb dropped, but I sleep very lightly and even the tread of a cat's paw's enough to waken me.' She handed him an oatmeal biscuit. 'Do you fidget in bed and toss and turn?' Johnnie said he didn't believe so. She sat and looked at him carefully over the rim of the mug as she sipped her cocoa. He felt vaguely uneasy but put the last piece of biscuit into his mouth. 'Very well then,' she said 'I sleep as still as a log so, providing you have no childish objections, you can share my bed as well.' She munched her biscuit silently. 'Though I don't think we'll tell your mother, or Mr Johnson.' Johnnie didn't know what to think or say. 'It'll save having to wash and iron two lots of bed sheets and pillow cases in these days of shortages.' Johnnie didn't ask which shortages she was referring to, but there it was. He didn't know how to react, thinking it might seem churlish, if not childish, to refuse. So he said nothing. Mrs Johnson turned up the wireless as the chimes of Big Ben started to listen to the nine-o-clock news. 'That's agreed then' she said, 'but I think it would be best kept a secret between us.' Johnnie certainly had no thought of saying a word to anyone. If he had mentioned to his mother the fact that they were to share the same bed, she would have been horrified and absolutely refuse to allow him to stay. (This is the BBC Home Service. Here is the nine-o-clock news and this is Alvar Liddell reading it.) Johnnie didn't hear much of the news. He was too apprehensive about going to bed. He habitually got an erection in bed and invariably woke up with one. This worried Johnnie. His predicament mustn't be noticed by Mrs Johnson. 'Right!' said Mrs Johnson taking her empty mug into the sided-kitchen and swilling it clean, 'I'm off up. Turn all the lights out and make sure the back door's locked and bolted before you come up.' Johnnie went outside to the lavatory and wash-house whilst Mrs Johnson used the upstairs bathroom and put on her long winceyette nightdress and drab woollen dressing gown. A hair net completed the picture. By the time she had finished in the bathroom, Johnnie had already quickly changed into his pyjamas and clambered into bed. He was curled up on his side cradling himself with his back to the door, when she returned. The bed gave as she sat on the edge and slipped off her dressing gown and slid under the sheets. He could smell the perfume of the soap she used. His soap was 'Lifebuoy' but it smelt clean and fresh. The light switch was an egg-shaped polished wooden object at the end of a length of flex hanging from the ceiling above the rosewood bed-head. Mrs Johnson always went to sleep on her back, her shoulders well supported by pillows so that she was almost half sat up. She drew the sheet up to her chin and switched out the light. Within a few seconds she was breathing deeply and evenly. Fast asleep. Johnnie sighed with relief and himself drifted off into a deep sleep. Nothing stirred all night until the alarm clock went off at half past five. Mrs Johnson was straight out of bed and put on her dressing gown. She returned some minutes later with a mug of steaming strong sweet tea for sleepy-eyed Johnnie which he drank whilst Mrs Johnson picked up her clothes and went into the bathroom. Well, Johnnie thought, that wasn't as bad as I expected. He waited until Mrs Johnson had left the bathroom and gone downstairs. As he got up and dressed the smell of the toast drifted up from the side-kitchen, and by the time he got downstairs and used the outside facilities, Mrs Johnson was already busy with the morning papers, sorting them into piles on the counter. 'Did you sleep alright, Johnnie?' 'Yes thank you.' Apart from such pleasantries, few words were exchanged at that early hour other than talk of paper rounds. 'Will you make-up the top round Johnnie whilst I do the Lords Lane round.' The shop opened at six for the regular early lorry drivers who came in for their paper - usually the Daily Herald - and packet of Woodbines. The daily routine was the same as it was the previous week with Mr Johnson. And so the week wore on. The weather remained warm and fine and they would often remark to each other that Mr. Johnson and Graham were having good weather. Each morning Johnnie took two of the paper rounds and sat down to toast and jam. In the afternoon he would take two more paper rounds, and each evening after tea, Johnnie would go across to the shop and, at nine o'clock Mrs Johnson made the usual cup of cocoa with half milk and half water and they would sit listening to the BBC news on the wireless whilst drinking their cocoa and eating a digestive biscuit. Then it was time to go up to bed. It was the same each night. The same routine. Johnnie would go out to the corner of the yard whilst Mrs Johnson was in the bathroom. She would wait until she'd heard him come back in, locked and bolted the back door, and had time to get into his pyjamas before she left the bathroom. He would be already curled up in bed on his right side and she would climb into bed and switch out the light. Almost immediately she would be asleep and breathing deeply. It was tiring work in the shop, and Johnnie did not have the afternoon nap, so he was not very long after her in dropping off to sleep. The Johnsons Mrs. Jane Johnson sat in the Assistant Dean of Students office worried about what had happened. Her son Patrick was a senior at the school and this was her first "requested" visit, besides the normal parent-teacher conferences. The dean, Doctor Morgan had a large office, with two female students answering phones and doing minor paperwork. His secretary sat behind the girls. Ms. Peterson was a 22 year old former student, who had been hired after finishing college at the state university. They had met a few times during the annual parent/teacher conferences. Jane was a little put back by Ms. Peterson's short skirt and blouse. The skirt only came to about 3" above her knees and the white blouse was far too sheer, a black demi cup bra outline clearly visible through the material. The phone rang and one of the students told Mrs. Johnson that Doctor Morgan would see her now. Upon entering, Dr. Morgan stood up and came around his desk to shake her had and offer her a seat. She was aware of his eyes scanning her from her face to her legs and back up again. "Thank you for coming in Mrs. Johnson; it's been almost a year since I've seen you." "I appreciate you calling me, what is happening with Patrick, Mrs. Johnson asked?" "Well, since the new school year, your 18 year old son's grades have almost hit bottom, he has 4 D's and a C minus so far, this is a huge drop from last year," Dr. Morgan said sitting on the edge of his desk, looking down at Mrs. Johnson. "I had no idea, he does his homework every night, and I make sure of that!" "Mrs. Johnson, it's more than that, I spoke with Patrick, and he is distracted, unfocused and lost in what I like to call pubescent limbo." "What is that," Jane asked leaning forward, intently waiting for the doctor's response. "Mrs. Johnson, your son does not masturbate, "Dr. Morgan said frankly. "He is wondering around home and school with all of his hormones raging, his mind lost in a sea of emotions and to be frank, boys his age, think with their dicks!" Jane sat there with her mouth open, stunned at what she had just heard, it had been years since she heard the word masturbate and only her friend Nancy used the word dick, and only when they had had a few drinks on girl's night. "I'm glad that he does not do that Dr. Morgan, were a good religious family" she finally managed to say, forcing herself to breath as her emotions raged. "Mrs. Johnson, Jane," Dr. Morgan said, walking over to her and taking her hand as he sat down in the chair next to her. "Masturbation is a normal biological function; it is a release of the bodies' normal manufacturing function and allows both boys like Patrick and even girls a release from their hormones controlling their teenage brains!" While her first thought was that this was wrong, Jane also knew that Patrick did not have a father to have "the talk" with and that she had tried, badly, to discuss sex with him several times. Rubbing her hand, Dr. Morgan looked intently at Jane, "for Patrick to get his grades up, he needs to be focused, and he needs to get some relief Jane, he needs to learn to masturbate! "Do you want to see his grades come up, do you want to see your son graduate and get into a good school, he asked, forcefully? " Yes, Dr. Morgan, I do, what can I do," she said, her voice trailing off? "I will talk with Patrick at the end of school, I'm sure he will be agreeable to this. First, Jane you are going to need to stop by the drug store and pick up some personal lubricate, KY offers several different types. This will help Patrick as he strokes himself. Jane just sat their looking at Dr. Morgan's hand stroking hers on the armrest, unable to look him in his face. "Then you will need to purchase a magazine or two for him to look at for inspiration!" Dr. Morgan stood up and walked around his desk, opening a drawer at the bottom of the desk, he pulled out two magazines, closed the drawer and walked back over sitting down again next to Jane, "These are what most of the boys appear to be 'reading' these days," handing one to Mrs. Johnson. Her face turned white, and then beet red, as she looked at the cover, MILF HEAVEN had two mature women rubbing each others privates on the cover, with a boy standing in the background. Dr. Morgan reached across and turned the pages, Jane's hands shaking as she looked at the magazine sitting in her lap. Looking at these women in various positions, naked, showering, dressing was causing her breathing to increase and she could feel a little wetness between her legs. "So I get this stuff and let him go in the bathroom and do it" she asked? "No, Jane you are going to need to supervise him, guide him, make sure he is comfortable and understands the importance of reliving himself every day." "Every day," Jane asked her voice rising in shock? "Yes, I recommend every morning, get him up, have him sit on the edge of the bed or a chair, let him look at the magazine and when he is ready, hold the magazine for him, so his hands are free and he can apply the lotion and stroke his cock!" Hearing the work cock, made Jane twitch, and she felt flush as she kept looking at the pictures. "Reassure him that what he is doing is normal, good for him and you want to see him succeed." "Here is a local shop that sells these types of magazines, Dr. Morgan handing her a slip of paper. "I will schedule an appointment for you in two weeks, so we can review Patrick's progress and grades. I'll also assign him two assignments to complete so I can also evaluate his focus!" "Any questions?" Jane left the office dazed and still confused. She was to buy her son porn, and encourage him as he plays with his penis in front of her. She had not seen his "cock" as Dr. Morgan called it, since he was a little boy in the bathtub and now was going to see it every morning? Mrs. Johnson knew that Dr. Morgan was a trained clinical psychologist, but this seemed so wrong. Still she loved Patrick and assumed that that the Assistant Dean must know what he is doing. The trip to the drug store was stressful, she found the lubricant section with no problem, but had to have a clerk open the cabinet for her. Her face was a pinkish red as she made her selection and dashed to the cashier. The magazine store was a totally different story, it was a Porn Shop! She sat in the car for twenty minutes, almost leaving twice without going in. When she did walk in, the girl behind the counter, just looked up and gave a half smile greeting as she walked in. The walls were covered in magazines and DVD's and she frantically scanned them for something like what Doctor Morgan had showed her. Seeing two older women on the cover of a couple magazines with the words MILF on it, she grabbed them and headed for the register. The clerk, about 19 years old and with at least 10 piercings with Goth makeup, looked the magazines over and rang them up. Talking Jane's money and handing her back, change and a receipt, she put the two magazines in a black bag and handed them, to Jane smiling, "don't worry, it gets easier the more you buy" she told the shocked mother. She almost ran out of the store. Patrick had come home and seemed to avoid his mom till dinner. He came down when called and they both ate in silence. Jane could not quite figure out what to say to her son, who she knew had already talked with Dr. Morgan and was at least partly aware of what was to come. Patrick disappeared in his room, while Jane cleaned up, did laundry and then went to turn in. She lightly knocked on Patrick's doors about 9:30 and opened it looking at her son, in bed, with his back to her. She walked over and lightly touched his shoulder, kissing his cheek, and whispering "its ok baby, I love you!" Friday morning came far too quickly in the Johnson household. Jane had been up since 5 am, looking at the porn magazines she had purchased. She had been stunned to see that one had a mother, masturbating in front of her son. It had pictures of her around the house, in various states of undress, butt, vaginia and breasts exposed to the boy. It also had her son's, penis exposed, stroking himself, first while watching her, then sitting with her. Jane had found her nipples getting hard as she looked through the pictures. She looked intently as the Mother I'd Like to Fuck, played with herself, sticking her fingers inside herself. She almost started to stroke herself, as she caught her hand lightly rubbing her nightgown. "Patrick, baby wake up," she said as she lightly shook her son's shoulder. He rolled over, barely awake and caused his mother to suck in air, as a tent magically rose in the center of the bed. Jane's eyes focused in on what she was sure was an erection, unaware that her son's eyes were focused on her. After a few minutes, Patrick reached down and moved his dick, forward so that it laid against his stomach. His mom's stare broken; she turned and looked her boy in the eyes. Both knew what was coming, both unsure of what was next. "Patrick, I know you talked with Dr. Morgan and we both want you to succeed in school. I'm here to help you and love you very much, I'm your mother and there is nothing you ever have to worry about or feel uncomfortable about with me, OK? "Yes mom, Patrick sheepishly said, still looking at his mom. "OK, how about you come sit here on the edge of the bed, as Jane patted the end. Patrick got up and stood with just a pair of boxer shorts on. His mom tried not to stare at the bulge pushing against the top of his underwear. "Baby, I have something I want you to look at, as she handed him the first porn magazine she had bought. His eyes got big as he looked at the cover, then at his mom and back at the magazine. "It's ok baby, take a look through it, mommy want you too" she told her boy, trying to reassure him and herself that this was ok. Two pages in and Patrick was squirming some, trying to adjust the developing rock hard erection he had. Jane noticed his discomfort and took a deep breath, before taking the next step, exposing her son's penis. "Baby, I know you're a big boy now and have needs, so mommy wants you to satisfy those needs, stand up for mommy and pull down your underwear." Patrick just looked at his mom; Jane tried to look very positive and smiled at her grown boy, touching his face lightly. Patrick slowly reached down and grabbed both sides of his boxer shorts, pulling down very slowly. His manhood, catching on the waistband and causing a tenting effect again. He finally had to reach in and grab it, using his other hand to pull his underwear down to his knees. Sitting back on the edge of the bed, his right hand still rested on his cock. Mrs. Jane Johnson just sat their staring at here son's manhood. It was about the same size as her ex-husbands, possibly a little thicker. Not monstrous, but impressive, she thought, realizing it was the first 'cock' she had seen in many years. "Baby, here is some lube for you and mommy is going to hold the magazine for you to look at." "I want you to put some lube on you penis and then you can touch it more, OK?" Her son looked at her, the lube, his cock and back to his mom. Without saying a word, he opened the container and squeezed a little into his right hand. Closing it, he handed it back to his mom, who put it in her robe pocket. Patrick slowly started to touch himself as he looked at the MILF's in the magazine and then at his mom. His mother's robe was slightly open at the top and bottom, causing his eyes to wander. He realized his mom had some nice legs, smooth and tan and her breasts were peeking out as the robe hung open. Patrick did not know just how big they were, but knew she was a lot bigger size than her girlfriend Nancy, having seen them the last time they went to the beach. "Does that feel good baby" his mom asked without needing an answer. "Yes, mommy it does" Patrick said eyes moving from cock, to magazine to mom's tits. He had only stroked himself a few times, when he gripped his cock and started jerking it. His mom's mouth dropped open as her son leaned back, let out a gasp and started jerking streams of white milky cum out of his cock. It shot everywhere, stream after stream, the poor kid had not had a release till now and it showed. Jane reached across, touching her son's arm, as he stroked another stream of cum, causing a jolt of energy to course through his body. His mom was touching him, with his cock out, coming all over his room. Patrick almost fainted. "O' baby was that ok, did it help you;" she asked holding his right arm, looking at his hand stroking his cock... "Ya, ya mom it did, O' did it ever." Patrick kept stroking his semi hard cock, now just looking at his mom and the magazine that had fallen to the floor. He kept looking at his mom's breasts which showed just a little more, hanging out from her housecoat. He leaned back and again started stroking harder and faster, his eyes closed as he pulled and pulled his cock in front of his mom. Jane watched and rubbed her son's arm, 'that's it baby, jerk it for mommy, mommy want's you too show me," she whispered, as he felt her breath against his earlobe. The second load came after a few minutes. Not as much, but just as intense. Mrs. Johnson rubbed her big boys arm as he jerked himself off, her left arm reaching around his back and pulling him closer to her. Jane was wet, she knew it, could feel it, her breathing was getting faster and she knew, deep down, she was going to orgasm any second. As the last stream of cum shot out of her son's penis, she felt her orgasm shoot through her pussy, her body shook and she pulled her son tightly to her body as waves of pleasure shot over her. Patrick was in heaven as he fell back on his bed, semi erect cock sticking up. He kept lightly stroking it, as his mom looked at her grown man. A smile on her face. "Well, that seem like a success, I would say, would you agree, she asked Patrick?" "O' ya mom, that was something else," he said looking at her and continued to stroke his cock. "You need to get up, shower and get dressed, I need to clean up all of my big boys mess and then make breakfast," Jane said smiling at her son. It was going to be an interesting two weeks and she was sure that her next meeting with Dr. Morgan would be more positive. *********** Jane Johnson was smiling as she walked in to her son's high school. The past two weeks had been both bizarre and amazing. She had helped her son learn to masturbate and had watched him each morning, sit on his bed, with his penis in his hand, holding a porn magazine, showing mothers exposing themselves to their sons while playing with their breasts and viginas, she found a perverse pleasure in seeing her son cum again and again. Jane had also found time to look through the magazines at night, relearning a cardinal sin of her own, stroking her pussy at night, thinking of her son's penis. Ms. Peterson gave a devilish smile to Jane as she entered Dr. Morgan's office. Jane's skirt was cut above the knee and she wore a v-neck sweater that showed off a pair of large C cup tits, her heels were about an inch higher and a hint of hard nipple pressed against the fabric under the cool air conditioning. "Dr. Morgan is waiting for you," Ms. Peterson said, Jane thanking her with a smile of her own. "Mrs. Johnson, how nice to see you," Dr. Morgan said as he took in the full body of Patrick's mother. He noticed the change immediately, in both attire and attitude and felt a twitch in his pants. "So, from your viewpoint, how have things been going at home with Patrick?" Jane looked at the Assistant Dean and blushed. "Fine, I mean good" she said not sure of what to say. "Well, I talked with Patrick and reviewed his class work, home work and extra assignments, all show improvement," he told her. "Patrick seems pleased with his new skill and feels that he is much more focused and relaxed during school" Dr. Morgan said as he walked around his deck. Sitting at the edge again, in front of Mrs. Johnson, he had a good view of her curvy breasts. "What's your impression of his jerking off" he asked looking at Jane's chest. "Aahh, he seems more relaxed, polite, he does his school work as soon as he gets home," she said looking up at the Doctor. "No, Jane how do you feel about him sitting in front of you, with his cock in his hand, shooting cum all over his room," the Doctor asked in a more direct tone? "I, aahh think it's good, he is a big boy now and I see that he has needs that had been ignored, I'm glad that I can help and be supportive to him," she told the doctor. "Good, I think we can make more progress with his grades and motivation with your participation and support," he told her moving around the desk. He opened the same drawer as her last visit and removed a magazine and what looked like a DVD, moving over and sitting next to Jane. "Patrick will need to have new material as we go along, he can't just look at the same thing every day." "Now this is more towards your son's taste I think, as he handed her a magazine. Jane looked intently at the MILF cover showing older women, naked with a young man standing over her, cock in his hand. Jane felt a touch of wetness between her legs as she turned the pages to see the young man jerking off standing over his mother. Her breathing at increased and she for a second thought about rubbing her clit. Doctor Morgan looked at her with a knowing, hungry look. Taking her left hand lightly, he allowed her to continue to look through the magazine. "Patrick said that he has a TV and DVD player in his room, is that right? "Aahhh, yes, he does," she said looking up quickly from the book. "Good, then I also recommend that when you buy the new magazine for Patrick that you also pick up a DVD like this for him as well," he said handing her the DVD he had. It was entitled MILF Party's and showed a few older women dancing naked while three young men sat on a couch, cocks out jerking off. "But, why" she asked looking at Dr. Morgan with a puzzled look. "Jane, Patrick needs to be stimulated; he needs to have his thoughts directed." Dr. Morgan was now running his hand lightly up Jane's left arm, slowly stroking her arm. "Patrick also tells me that he has been admiring your breasts when he jerks off" he said in a questioning way. Jane, jerked her head up from staring at the DVD and looked at Dr. Morgan, "O' my, no I did not show him my breasts, no" she told the Doctor in a shocked tone. "Jane, it's ok, young men love their mothers, their brain almost commands them to look at them, small tits, big tits, flabby tits, boys, men love tits, he told her in a reassuring manner, still rubbing her arm. "I want you to be comfortable with Patrick's needs, he sees you as a vision of womanhood, a woman with a wonderful body, something I happen to agree with." "He looks at your perky tits and it reaffirms his manhood," he told her looking directly at her sweater pushing out. "Jane, you need to reassure Patrick and what I want you to try is allowing him a better view of your breasts, when he is jerking off." I want you to let him see more, not just some cold paper magazine, but live heaving breasts, he said, his finger running up her neck. Jane Johnson was flabbergasted, stunned, she was already helping her son masturbate, and now the Assistant Dean wanted her to flash her breast to her big boy. "Dr. Morgan, I don't know, that seems a bit much, he has his pictures," she said in a questioning way. "Jane, were here to help Patrick, to see his grades improve, to see him graduate and go to a good college, I thought you wanted to be there for him," he asked? A million thoughts ran through her mind, a few down right nasty, some causing her to be getting wet and her nipples getting rock hard. While her head was spinning, Dr. Morgan has started rubbing the back of her neck, applying light pressure as he stroked, causing a slight moan from the confused mother. The Johnsons As she grew older, the other demons accompanying the devil in her fantasies would each taunt her with their large distended penises, some pumping it into their palm with jeering laughter until profuse streams of their filthy fluid splashed all over her. Several of them would penetrate her, one after the other, until she climaxed with a great cry of despair, collapsing into the mattress still singing hymns. She became obsessed by these awesome fantasies. She was unable to rid herself of the spurting and gushing images, her body filling until she brought herself to a whimpering release. Whilst a young woman, other usually older men would pester her to go out with them, but she always denied them her company. When Mr Johnson came on the scene she was already in her late twenties and expected to remain a spinster and a virgin. He was neither handsome nor elegant. But he was attentive, charming and courteous. He slowly gained her confidence and, when he asked her mother for Emily's hand in marriage she was delighted. He had never made any attempt to molest her nor asked her to touch him. Their kisses were amorous rather than passionate. Still, he was the only chance she had of marriage. On the honeymoon night he treated her gently and with much consideration and, although she could not entirely shake off the feeling that her husband's prodding at her entrance was the devil seeking entrace to her tunnel of hell, for some years the devil within her was gradually subdued. She became pregnant within the first year but had a very troublesome time and the birth was late. She had to be induced and suffered a long, exhausting and painful delivery which frightened her a good deal. After she had recovered, Mr Johnson promised that he wouldn't ask her to bear him another child, though he would have liked a daughter. But he wouldn't have her go through the whole painful experience again. So their sex life never re-started. Mrs Johnson was relieved, and for a few months all was well, but then she began with her old fantasies again and, about once a month the persistent demands of her secret torment became too much for her to resist. She found the possibilities for enjoyment in a simple wax candle and, through her wholesalers, was able to get hold of extra large commercial candles. During the war years they were in constant demand. She would lay in her Friday bath before going to bed and slowly manipulate herself to a climax and relief whist singing a joyous hymn. Once in bed her appetite was so strong that she would repeat the self abuse until an even greater orgasm was reached. Her usual hymn to combat the Devil within her at these times, and to avoid any enjoyment of the climax - usually timed if she could to coincide with the last line of the last verse - was 'Forward Christian Soldiers' though she sometimes sang 'Fight the good fight with all thy might.' When Mr Johnson became an Air Raid Warden she would take advantage of his nights on duty. Now in her early forties, her feelings of frustration had become stronger and more frequent. She found that the lusty hymn singing didn't always obliterate her fantasies of the very Devil himself, and she feared that he was beginning to win the battle for her body. She would pray even more sincerely on the those evenings before going to sleep. But her day-time fantasies persisted and she would find herself staring at the trousers of the men who came into the shop for tell-tale bulges, imagining their hard protrusions bursting out of the flies spouting its evil starch in huge jets in front of her eyes. She couldn't be precise about when she had first fancied young Johnnie, but it some time ago. She had watched him mature into manhood. There was something about his innocence and fresh skin that attracted the devil in her. She had seen the distinct bulge in his trousers on more than one occasion. Of course, she was ashamed of allowing herself such thoughts and would, when the shop was empty, quietly hum a hymn tune to bring her back in the fold. When it was arranged that Johnnie should help out in the shop whilst Mr Johnson was away she found herself humming hymns to herself more and more frequently, particularly during her own holiday the week before. She was glad she'd had the foresight to pack her candle. When they waved Mr Johnson and Graham off in the taxi, she was strangely excited with anticipation though she knew that she would not go through with her fantasy. The idea that Johnnie should sleep with her had been a wild fantasy at the back of Mr Johnson's mind for a few days but she surprised herself at the apparent relaxed way she made the suggestion to Johnnie and his easy acceptance of it. She certainly didn't feel relaxed about it. On the contrary, her heart was thumping. Johnnie seemed to trust her argument, however, and suspected nothing. On the first night she dare do nothing. Light out, breathe deeply and rhythmically and pretend sleep as soon as possible. But she could feel the warmth of the young male body next to her and she fell asleep with a tormented mind. She usually woke up a few seconds before the alarm went off. On the first morning Johnnie was laying against her, asleep, and she could feel his innocent erection pressing against her thigh. She lifted the bedclothes cautiously. Peering down, she could just see in the dimness of the early morning light the stiff straight shape protruding from his pyjamas. A sudden attack of shyness and shame made her get out of the bed and turn off the alarm before it actually rang. She donned her dressing gown and went into the bathroom and then downstairs to make a pot of tea. She poured two mugsful and took one upstairs to Johnnie. Each night she pretended to fall asleep quickly but remained conscious for some time. The next morning, and each morning following, she surreptitiously felt his stiffness and, by the time Friday morning came, she had dared to gently place her palm against the sleeping erection and stroke it without disturbing the sleeping youth. It had been many years since she had touched a penis and desire burned within her. She turned on her small bedside lamp but sat between it and Johnnie, shading his face from the soft light. He made no stir. She risked lifting the bedclothes and bared his stiffness to her eyes. She gazed as long as she dare at Johnnie's perfectly straight, rigid rod before covering him and getting out of bed. She hummed 'Onward Christian Soldiers' to herself impatiently as she washed and dressed. Her mind was in turmoil all day. She looked at Johnnie quietly from time to time when he wasn't taking notice. Did she imagine it, or had young Johnnie got an erection inside his trousers? She couldn't be sure, but desperately wanted to pull this young man to her and run her hands over him and tear off his trousers. On more than one occasion Johnnie had caught her gazing at him and she had to smile thinly and turn away to fiddle with the sweet jars or library books. She kept miscounting the ration coupons and hymns were buzzing around in her mind for most of the day. When the evening came she determined to make a last chance attempt with Johnnie. Her caution was overcome by her compelling lust. She poured herself a glass of sherry to give her confidence. Her thoughts were only those that satisfied her personal hell. She had a second glass of sherry and, when Johnnie arrived, offered him one as well. After the usual bed-time preliminaries, she heard his steady breathing and waited for a few minutes to make sure he was fully asleep. Then she ever so lightly brushed her fingers against him and was pleased to find him already stiff. She thought she felt him tense briefly but his rhythmic breathing continued. She touched him again more firmly and fondled his stiffness. It had been so long since she had properly held a penis! She grasped him and slowly drew him on to his back hoping he would not wake. Her own breathing continued steadily to feign sleep. Turning on to her left thigh she pulled up her nightdress, reached through her thighs with her left hand and placed the erection against her thighs. One push and she impaled the young man's sweet devil into her restless hell. Oh why is sinning so heavenly? she moaned to herself as she pushed herself up and down. It wasn't long before she felt Johnnie's subdued jerks announcing the spurting of his vital juices into her belly. All too soon, she began to lose her own control. Her body went into an involuntary orgasmic shudder. She tried to stifle her cry of anguish with didn't entirely succeed. As she subsided, Johnnie rolled away and she felt the young semen oozing out of her, trickling between her legs. She was relieved that he was not consciously aware of what she'd done. Mrs Johnson pulled her nightgown between her thighs to avoid soiling the sheets and was suddenly overwhelmed by a deep remorse. Tears welled up into her eyes and she cried out in silent prayer for forgiveness and understanding, fervently going through 'Onward Christian Soldiers' in her mind. She had been so long without a man that the temptation of having a strange one at her side had been too much for her. The devil had won her over yet again. The following morning she got out of bed as soon as the alarm clicked, determined to behave as normally as possible. She took him his mug of tea and shook him lightly. He opened his eyes and she gave him a reassuring smile before going into the bathroom to dress. From Johnnie's behaviour he gave no hint that he was aware of what had happened and, if he did was saying nothing about it. She began to feel easier as the day wore on, but the feeling of guilt stayed with her all the time. She gave Johnnie his week's wage at lunch-time and added five shillings for the extra jobs he'd done. The unfortunate expression was out before she realised what she was saying. She turned away to hide the flush in her cheeks. So she missed seeing Johnnie's face turn crimson. Her husband and Graham returned that afternoon to much relief all round and routine returned to normal. With intense relief, Mrs Johnson started her period that same evening. But it was ten days after Mr Johnson had come back from his holiday that Mr Johnson decided on a rare treat; they would go to the local cinema. Graham's excitement was hardly containable and, when the time came, he ran ahead down the passage, ahead of his parents who were busy locking up the house, straight into the path of a lorry. The driver had no chance at all of avoiding the boy. The driver ran for the doctor whose surgery was close by whilst Mr Johnson hurried back into the house to telephone for the ambulance. Graham was not killed but had seriously head injuries. Mr and Mrs Johnson each privately believed that this was their own individual punishment for their waywardness with young Johnnie. They grieved bitterly but neither was able to tell the other of their dreadful iniquity. They prayed hard every night for Graham's recovery and those prayers were eventually answered. He finally pulled through but was left with a nasty scar down his right cheek, though with no other permanent damage. Neither of his parents would ever forget the selfishness and weakness that had brought down the wrath of God on their family. It was to be a very long time before Mrs Johnson hummed hymns to herself again.