27 comments/ 382768 views/ 44 favorites Jason and Mrs. Johnson By: Charles Petersunn This story is a sequel to "Jason and the Johnsons." I had a number of requests to provide a sequel. I find sequels somewhat difficult as they can often, in my mind, fail to measure up to the original nor will they go in the direction that everyone who asked for a sequel wanted (e.g., regrettably, "My Little Brownie Cupcake," was not so well received). But, the theme of this particular sequel is different from the original, per most of the requests I received (i.e., requests to have Mrs. Johnson become involved). Please note that the characters and their relationship history are provided in the original story. Reading this sequel without the original story may not be so meaningful. In any case, please be assured, all of the characters are above the age of 18. I do hope you like it! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The relationship between Jason and Bridget blossomed after their Saturday afternoon study session (see "Jason and the Johnsons"). The relationship had already been developing well, but they had crossed a rather important line on that Saturday afternoon. Sex was a wonderful way to express one's feelings, one's love, one's commitment. Don't get me wrong. Jason and Bridget had not yet gone all the way. Bridget made it clear that she was not ready for that. She wanted to save that for her wedding, and Jason was fully understanding. But, the sex they did have did go far in bringing them closer together and, besides, it was also good fun, for the both of them. They were finding all sorts of unique and playful ways to enjoy their new found pleasures. Oral sex might not be real sex, at least according to a past President of the United States, but it was a pretty good facsimile. The fact that they had to do it in secret, outside of the awareness of their parents, particularly Bridget's, seemed to only add a sweet spice to their oral feasts. Secrecy was indeed important. If Bridget's parents discovered that they had actually gone this far, that they had seen and touched each other's personal private parts, that Jason had placed his lips on their precious daughter's cunnie, and that, even more horrifying, that she had placed her lips on his naked, hard penis; well, they would indeed be horrified. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Johnson approved of premarital sex. Actually, it was much worse than that. They fully disapproved of premarital sex. They had avoided any such dalliances themselves when they were Bridget's age and they fully expected their daughter to follow suit. She was a Johnson girl, and Johnson girls were good girls. When Bridget would eventually consummate the relationship within the matrimonial bedroom, they assumed that it would be respectful, normal sexual intercourse. They surely hoped that she would not partake in any deviant, paraphilic acts, such as oral sex. This was something that good girls just didn't do, and never would do. Only the whores, the porn stars, the sluts, would do such things. As Mr. Johnson would say, oral sex bore no relationship with the purpose of sex: creating offspring. He would never put his lips on a woman's vagina. Just the thought of doing something like that seemed only one step removed from homosexuality (although he never really explained why). It was placing your lips on the organs through which the person expels waste material. What is loving about that? Is it not inherently a degradation? Well, if Mr. Johnson wouldn't do it for a woman, he certainly wouldn't then demean this woman in the same manner by requiring that she perform such an act on him. He was not a hypocrite. Mrs. Johnson, though, might in fact be quite willing to do it. She had come close a couple of times to putting her lips on her husband's penis, but only when he was asleep (see "Jason and the Johnsons"). She knew full well that Jim would disapprove of any such act, and even its suggestion. He would in fact be appalled that she was even thinking about it. All that Madeline Johnson could then do was dream, and dream she did. She was terribly stricken by dreams, many of which seemed to verge on nightmares. Such as the dream in which she was tied up by a bunch of young men. Her top was pulled down so that they could see her bosoms, and they were masturbating, right in front of her. She was trying to tell them in her most commanding, authoritative voice to untie her, but they wouldn't listen. She tried to squirm out of the ropes, but that only made her naked breasts bounce and wiggle around, much to their obvious pleasure. The scene then suddenly changed. She was on her knees while they smacked her face with their hard, stiff penises. Actually, as she recalls, they were no longer there. There were just penises. The air all around her was filled with naked penises. Some of them were soft, some were hard, some were small, some were large, but there were so many of them. They were poking her all over her face, crowding and pushing each other to try to get to her, like the air was filled with swimming snakes, penis snakes. Some of them were even trying to get into her mouth. A particularly small but hard one was having some success squeezing past her lips. It had lodged its head within her lips and was now pumping, thrusting, and forcing its way in deeper, and then suddenly the head popped in. She squeezed tight with her lips to prevent the rest of it from getting through and, for some reason, she began to lick and lap away at the head. Perhaps she was trying to give it what it wanted so that it would keep still. Then, she saw that one of them, a really, really big one, was beginning to pulse and throb right in front of her eyes, yet she couldn't turn away. She was transfixed by the sight. The bulbous head seemed to swell and expand to three times its size: so shiny, so purple, so swollen. It suddenly exploded and she felt her face become awash with huge splats of cum. She woke up, her face soaked. She wiped some of the moisture from her brow. It was her own perspiration. She trembled with agitation. Why did she have such dreams? She wondered if perhaps she should see a therapist. She was having some pretty disturbing dreams. She thought, 'I mean, my goodness: dismembered erect penises'? It had been quite a long time since Jim had even performed his marital duties. Madeline always looked forward to Friday. That was when they used to do it. How dull it might be, it was at least something. Jim had been very reliable about their Fridays. However, once the three Johnson girls had arrived, Mr. Johnson began to find one excuse after another: headaches, tired, not feeling well, just not quite the right time, maybe next time, and so forth. Mrs. Johnson became increasingly frustrated. She considered masturbating, but wasn't that a perversion as well? Good girls don't masturbate. Well, if she had to confess, she would confess that she had indeed masturbated, a couple of times, but each time she would feel so filthy, so dirty, so obscene, afterward. It seemed like such an obvious failure to resist temptation. She would also at times drink too much, eat too much. It was always enjoyable while it was happening, but even as she did it, she knew she shouldn't. She knew it was wrong. It was so nice, so relieving, but so very wrong. And, she was so very right about that. The next day she would always regret her excess drinking, her eating, whatever the indiscretion, and she didn't have to wait that long to regret a masturbation. She would feel like such a slut afterward. It was obviously something she probably should feel shameful about. Anything that you keep secret from others is obviously something that you are ashamed about, that is probably indeed shameful. If you are not willing to let others know about it, you are probably doing something that you know would be disapproved, would be objectionable, would be shameful. And, imagine not being able to even tell your husband about something, the person with whom you should be able to share your most personal of concerns, the most intimate of your feelings, your experiences. Yet, she certainly couldn't tell her husband about masturbating. She knew what his reaction would be. At best he would confirm that her subsequent feelings of guilt were trying to tell her to control herself. Most of the time she was indeed in control, and only rarely would she give in. Very rarely. Well, actually, not so very rarely. In fact, as time went by, she found herself doing it more frequently. It didn't help that Bridget was dating such a healthy, young man. Jason was a very good looking boy, and a very good boy. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson couldn't be happier. They had been reassured by Bridget that she and Jason were behaving appropriately. If anything, Mrs. Johnson knew that she had been the one to misbehave, which made her feel all the more guilty. She had been gardening, braless, which she often did, as their back yard was really quite private and it felt so much more comfortable under the hot, muggy sun. But, much to her dismay, her t-shirt had eventually ripped, resulting in a most embarrassing "wardrobe accident" (see "Jason and the Johnsons). Jason surely hadn't seen much, but she was certain that he had seen at least something, and that was quite mortifying. She knew she should talk to him about it, at least to apologize. But, it took a few weeks to get up her courage. This would not be an easy thing to do, and so she put it off. Frankly, a part of her had hoped that it could just slip into the background but, it didn't, at least for her. Every time Jason came over she felt a bit uncomfortable, at times even averting her eyes, wondering what he must be thinking. Wondering if he was imagining her naked breast popping out of her blouse. She even began to have dreams of being with Jason, when suddenly her blouse fell open, her breasts becoming exposed. Sometimes it happened at such bizarre moments: when greeting him at the door, when bringing them cookies, when serving dinner. Finally, during another Saturday afternoon visit, Mrs. Johnson sent Bridget on an errand just prior to his scheduled arrival so that she could have some time alone with Jason, to talk with him about the "incident," privately. Her husband was again golfing and would not be home for quite some time. She was not about to tell her husband of her embarrassment, and she hoped as well that Jason had respected her modesty by not telling Bridget. Jason met with her in the study. She had met Jason once before within her bedroom, and had frankly enjoyed the titillating implications of the setting. But, with the incident in the garden, a bedroom meeting would now be quite inappropriate. She patted a spot on the couch for him to join her. She purposely dressed conservatively in a white blouse and business skirt. "Jason," she began, "I suppose you know why I wanted to meet with you." Frankly, he wasn't really sure at all. He was concerned that Bridget's mother might have some inkling as to what had, or has, been going on between Bridget and himself. Mothers can have a sixth sense about things like that. "No ma'am, not really." Mrs. Johnson sighed. He was not going to make this easy. She was hoping to get in and out of this meeting relatively quickly: a sincere apology and then an understanding never to refer to it again. But, Jason was apparently going to make her speak about it. "Yes, well, um, Jason, I wanted to talk to you about what happened." Her voice quieted. "A few weeks ago, in the garden." Now he knew precisely what she wanted to talk about and he was relieved, at least at first. "Oh yes, yes, ma'am, I understand. I didn't really see anything, really." That was a rather lame denial, as he could hardly say he understood why she wanted to talk to him about what happened in the garden if he actually hadn't seen anything. Mrs. Johnson though smiled appreciatively at his effort to respect her modesty. She rested a hand on his knee in reassurance. "Now Jason, I know you must have seen something. I could see it in the expression of your face," which now blushed at the thought of having to talk to Bridget's mother about seeing her naked tit; actually, breast. You certainly shouldn't describe it as a "tit." Jason's own mother had advised him quite a number of times about how to best behave with Bridget's mother. She had in fact been very helpful, prompting him to be sure to compliment her about how lovely the garden appeared, how nice the home looked, and how good the dinner tasted. "How do you give the meat loaf that unique taste?" She had even suggested, "I can see where your daughter got her good looks," but he felt that was a bit cliched. However, his mother had not explained to him how to discuss the mother's tit; that is, her breast. He would assume though that you shouldn't refer to it as a tit. Actually, "breast" was even a poor choice. Imagine some future day when she is serving a chicken dinner. How would he, and she, react, when she offered him a nice large breast? "Yes, ma'am, I am so sorry. I did see a bit of your bosom." His face blushed further. He had never used that word before, but he had heard it used by his mother. It was certainly the least sexual way he knew of referring to Mrs. Johnson's breast, but it seemed like such an awkward word. Mrs. Johnson could see his discomfort, and she appreciated his effort to be respectful in how he referred to her breast. "Well, dear, I think you saw quite a bit more than just a bit, and I want to let you know how sorry I am to put you in such an awkward situation. Did you speak to Bridget about it?" "Goodness, no, ma'am." Why would he do that? Mrs. Johnson was most relieved to hear that. "Well, I think that is best. There is no reason to trouble her about such a thing." "No, ma'am, of course not." He would agree to anything just to end this conversation. "She is in many ways still a young girl." She was in fact eighteen, and, more recently, behaving in a way that certainly did not suggest a young girl, but that was hardly something that he would share with Mrs. Johnson. "Yes, of course, I understand, Mrs. Johnson." "Yes, well, I'm glad you understand." There was still one more matter that should be discussed. She took a deep breath and said, "You have been yourself handling this like a true gentleman, Jason, and I want you to know that I am most grateful for that." "Yes, ma'am." He had already accepted her apology. Why was she belaboring it? "A more immature young man might have told his friends, made some crude remarks, and I want you to know that I recognize how mature you have behaved." "Really, ma'am, nothing more needs to be said. It was an accident and accidents do happen." "Yes, yes. I just want to be sure, Jason, that I am not neglecting the possibility that you were yourself somehow, well, upset, or confused, by what you saw." "Ma'am?" "Well, a young man, seeing for the first time, the nude bosom of a woman. I know that it can be a bit confusing, you know, um, disturbing." Disturbing was not the word that described well his reaction to seeing Mrs. Johnson's tit, or breast, flop out, but, again, he felt honesty was not, in this instance, the best policy. "Oh ma'am, no, no, it was fine. I wasn't upset or anything." "Was that the first time you had seen a naked woman's bosom?" An advantage of being honest is that you don't get entangled in a confusing web of lies, struggling to continue to conceal the truth yet not say anything inconsistent with what you said before, or just patently false. But, in this instance, he could be technically honest. "Yes, ma'am, it was." He had seen many pictures of naked women's breasts, but he was pretty sure that Mrs. Johnson wasn't referring to pictures. He had also seen Bridget's naked breasts a number of times, but he could assume that Mrs. Johnson was referring to a woman close to her own age and, besides, she had herself referred to Bridget as a young girl. It was Mrs. Johnson's turn to blush, realizing that her breast was the first for this young man. She felt guilty about that but, also, a bit titillated, which made her feel even more guilty. "Well, I know that you and Bridget have been behaving yourselves, not giving into your, um, natural temptations." "Absolutely not, Mrs. Johnson." Jason sincerely disliked being so blatantly dishonest, but there was simply no way he was going to be honest about that. "I know, I know, and Jim and I appreciate that very much." "Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am. Absolutely." "I do want you to know, Jason, that we don't object to the young man, well, um, you know, taking care of himself." Jason didn't think his face could get any redder, but it sure felt that it had. "What?" It really wasn't true that Mr. Johnson wouldn't object to the young man engaging in masturbation. He would in fact consider it to be self-abusive. But, Mrs. Johnson did appreciate Jason's effort to respect their daughter's modesty, and now as well his discretion with respect to her own embarrassing incident. She did not want this young man to be so stricken, so tortured, by guilt as she had been, as continued to be. "I just want you to know, dear, that it is fine to seek an alternative outlet when the temptations became too great." She sorely wished that her parents had felt this way when she was a young lady. Her life would have been so much better if she, if they, had taken a different path. Jason, though, was not particularly interested in talking about this with Mrs. Johnson. Heck, he had never even had any such conversation with his own mother. He could feel sweat forming on his brow. "Has your mother spoke to you, Jason, about, well, you know." She slid over closer to him on the couch, her voice becoming quieter, as if perhaps someone might be listening in another room. "Masturbation?" Jason averted his eyes. What a young man will do for his girlfriend. He really didn't know what to say in response to this question. In this case, a lie could really become entangled, so he spoke the truth. "No, ma'am, she hasn't." But, as soon as he said that he realized that it might only encourage her to extend the conversation. Mrs. Johnson now wished that she hadn't asked the question. She couldn't now just say, 'Fine, good, well, take care of yourself.' She had to follow-up. "Well, sweetie, really, it's nothing to be ashamed about." She realized how hypocritical she was being, but it really should be true that a young man shouldn't feel ashamed about it, or she certainly wished that she hadn't, and didn't, feel so ashamed. And, besides, she so much wanted the relationship between Jason and Bridget to work out and if it took his feeling comfortable about masturbating, then that could hardly be wrong, could it? "No, no, I s'pose not." Mrs. Johnson could see that this conversation was difficult for Jason. She sorely hoped that he was not as wracked with guilt about this as she had been. She squeezed his knee and tried to speak in her most motherly, understanding tone. "Is it difficult for you to masturbate, Jason?" If Jason was uncomfortable masturbating, then he may be forced to either end the relationship with Bridget, or compel her to give in to his natural urges. Jason felt that there was really no correct answer to Mrs. Johnson's question. Answering yes might imply that he was some sort of a pervert who couldn't even jerk off; answering no might imply that he was some sort of a pervert who enjoyed jerking off. He was now appreciating the tangled web he had been weaving in not being honest about his activities with Bridget. Mrs. Johnson realized that her question was poorly phrased. Of course it was difficult for him. It was certainly difficult for her. "Have you tried masturbating, Jason?" It really wasn't much of an easier question for Jason, but he quickly decided that answering falsely could really backfire. If he said no she might even suggest that she help teach him! "Yes, yes, I have." Jason and Mrs. Johnson "Well, that's good!" She patted his knee. "That's very, very good, son." She was feeling proud of herself. This is how a mother should help her son. They should be able to talk openly about such things and it would certainly be very reassuring to the son to have his mother be so understanding and supportive. "And, was it pleasurable for you?" Actually, the sex with her daughter was now considerably more pleasurable, but he had in fact masturbated a few times since the afternoon with Bridget while thinking about her, recounting the experience in ecstatic detail, typically climaxing at pretty much the same time as it had actually occurred. "Yes, ma'am, yes it was." "Oh, I'm so happy," and frankly quite relieved. "I imagine that you must often be thinking about Bridget when you do it." She would assume that would be true and she certainly wanted him to feel comfortable about iy. Mrs. Johnson was feeling very good about this conversation. Just the fact that she, they, could talk about such things made her feel good. There was something quite pleasing, so gratifying, to be speaking so personally, so intimately, about masturbation with this young man. It was perhaps as soothing, as healing, for her as it was helpful to him. But, to Jason, it was just another trick question. It was obviously best to say yes. He could hardly say that he was thinking about some other girl. But, it clearly didn't seem right to be telling her mother that he jerked off to fantasies about her daughter. Well, perhaps there was a middle ground; some way to admit to it but to also acknowledge feeling at least a bit guilty about it. "Well, yes, ma'am, but I am sorry about that. I do really feel bad about that." Well, that was disappointing. That was precisely what she didn't want to hear. Mrs. Johnson even moved closer to Jason. Her breast, the one that had popped out, pressed against his shoulder. Jason caught a wisp of her perfume. It was strangely suggestive of Bridget's butterfly rosewood. "No, no, honey, please, don't feel bad. Of course, you would think of her." She rested her hand on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap. "You really shouldn't feel bad." Jason's mother had obviously provided no guidance for him regarding how to discuss his sexual fantasies of the daughter with the mother, but this did remind him of when the mother pretends not to feel bad when you break or spill something and Jason's mother had been quite clear about that: You continue to express your remorse. "Oh, but I do, Mrs. Johnson. I really shouldn't have thoughts like that, about your daughter." It broke Mrs. Johnson's heart to hear this. This is precisely the neurotic feelings of shame with which she was herself struggling, and it would be a real shame if it contributed to troubles in his relationship with Bridget or, even worse, the deterioration and ultimate destruction of their relationship. She needed to reassure him. "What sort of thoughts do you have about my daughter, you know, when you play with, um, yourself?" She leaned in closer, letting him know that she was there for him, and understood. This really seemed like it was going too far. There was simply no way that he could tell Mrs. Johnson that he thought about her daughter sucking him off, but saying that he thought about making love to her seemed too obviously corny and phony. "I really find it kind of uncomfortable talking to you about this." This was probably his most honest statement so far, and it did help. Mrs. Johnson did appreciate that she was perhaps asking too much and, frankly, she wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to know what fantasies he was having about Bridget. She must admit, though, that her own heart was racing at the thought of hearing him talk about, perhaps, Bridget kissing him, down there. She knew that boys must like girls to do that. Her husband can't really represent what is truly common or normal about such things. But, still, "I understand, Jason. That is really too personal, and what goes on between you and Bridget, well, I mean, what may some day go on, is not really my business." Now she was being dishonest. What Jason did with her daughter was her business and, therefore, what fantasies he might be having about her was probably her business as well. However, she would have to place some trust in him, and what was important right now was helping him to become comfortable in seeking an alternative to sexual relationships with her daughter. "What about me?" "Excuse me?" "Have you had fantasies about me?" This might be an even harder question to correctly answer than the one about Bridget. "I suppose, Jason, that you must have, at least one time since that Saturday. After all, mine was the first naked bosom you had seen." She pressed it into his arm to underscore her point, and it was the point of her nipple that was indeed being pressed into his arm, much to his consternation. The correct answer must be the honest one, at least in this case. She could hardly have asked this question with the expectation of him having no such fantasies. "Well, yea, yea, I have, once or twice." Mrs. Johnson was thrilled, in more ways than one. She was thrilled that she had been able to help Jason speak so openly about this, and frankly it was rather nice to hear that she could excite a young man. She may no longer be exciting her husband but she was at least a point of interest for this healthy, young man. She leaned in even further, pressing her breast further into his arm, and whispered into his ear. "And, what did you think about when you thought of me?" Fantasies about her daughter were perhaps none of her affair, but fantasies of herself could hardly be out of bounds. "Oh, Mrs. Johnson, I don't know if I really should say. This is really very difficult for me, and, besides, Bridget should be getting here pretty soon," at least, he was hoping that she would be. "The errand I gave her will keep her busy for at least another half hour." Mrs. Johnson removed her hand from Jason's, whose were really quite sweaty at this point, and slid the fingers of her right hand up and down his arm. "Now, Jason, be a good boy and tell Mrs. Johnson what you were thinking about when you played with yourself." "Mrs. Johnson, please." "It's perfectly alright, dear. I want you to feel comfortable with such matters. It's important that you do, not only for yourself but for the sake of your relationship with Bridget. You must have at least thought about my breast?" Jason had thought about Mrs. Johnson's breasts a number of times. He thought about them the first time he saw them. No healthy boy wouldn't think about them. She had very, very full breasts. They were often hidden by an apron or a matronly dress but she did not need to dress provocatively for them to be noticed. Those breasts, accompanied by her engaging smile, were so very hard to ignore. "Yes, ma'am, I have," he quietly confessed. "Now, see, that wasn't so hard, was it." "Um, no ma'am," he said. Another lie. That had been very hard to say. "Does it make you hard when you think of them?" He thought he had said that. Why does she want to hear him say it again? But, Mrs. Johnson very much enjoyed hearing him say it. "Yea, yea, it does, I mean, it did." It was perhaps a Freudian slip, but he had said it, and, like a true slip of the tongue, it wasn't a lie. "It does? It does right now?" Jason's clasped hands were hiding a budding erection. He wasn't entirely sure he really should feel this way, but talking about masturbating to fantasies about Mrs. Johnson's naked breasts while Mrs. Johnson was pressing her breast into his arm was, frankly, rather arousing. Mrs. Johnson was now herself a bit flustered. She hadn't really thought something like this would happen, but perhaps she should have. Wasn't this precisely the point? What would a mother do if her son developed an erection? Would she shame him for it? Jim probably would do precisely that, sending the young Jason off feeling horribly guilty and traumatized, as if he was some sort of a pervert. And, besides, it wasn't like he had developed this erection with his actual mother. Mrs. Johnson was feeling very motherly at the moment. She felt like she was performing motherly duties, helping the young man with his young, budding sexuality, but she was not herself his mother. There was really nothing to be ashamed about. That was precisely the lesson she was trying to convey, and she should continue to do so. "Let me see it, Jason. Take away your hands." "Mrs. Johnson!" "No, I mean it. I don't want you to feel ashamed or embarrassed about this. Someday I may be your mother and I want you to feel completely comfortable in whatever may arouse, I mean, rise, arise, between us." She was obviously not that comfortable about this herself, but she knew that this was the right thing to do. In fact, to make it fully clear, she simply pulled away his hands from his lap and there, before her eyes, was the telltale sign of a young man's stiffie. She was now herself speechless, at least for a moment. She was transfixed by the sight. He was indeed erect, at least partially. It was terribly provocative, and strangely thrilling. "Well, Jason, yes, I see it, and I must say, I think it's just fine. No, no, I take that back, I think it's in fact wonderful." It was again Jason's turn to be speechless, at least for a moment. He hardly considered it to be wonderful. "You're really not upset, Mrs. Johnson?" She definitely was not upset, at least not in the way he was thinking. "No, no, not at all, Jason. Of course, though, I don't think you should show such a thing to my daughter." "Oh yes, of course not, Mrs. Johnson." "I mean, that's my point, Jason. It's, uh, important, no necessary, for you to take care of your urges in some alternative way, to, well, you know, maintain the chastity, the pureness, of your relationship with Bridget. But, naturally, there will be times when you do become excited, like right now, and perhaps I should have appreciated that it could indeed happen with me, this afternoon, as we talked about my," her voice quieted, "my breasts." Jason was beginning to appreciate that perhaps he was truly fortunate to have Mrs. Johnson be the mother of his girlfriend. She was certainly a very open and tolerant woman. As well as a very, very sexy one. "After all," she smiled, "we are sitting together rather closely, aren't we and, my goodness, it's precisely that naughty breast that is pressed up against you, isn't it." This reminder caused another surge in his pants, and that did not go unnoticed, as Mrs. Johnson was keeping a close eye on it. However, she also realized that she might be creating the problem that she was precisely trying to resolve. "There is, however, one problem, though, Jason." "Ma'am?" "I mean, don't get me wrong, but Bridget will be getting here soon. Well, not that soon, but within the next half hour and perhaps all I have done is just get you all excited, with no relief. Will you be okay with her?" "Oh yes, certainly Mrs. Johnson, really, it'll go down by the time she gets here. I will just think about something else." That was not at all true. He knew full well that when Bridget came home, he would want some relief as soon as possible. He couldn't wait to feel her mouth, or her hand, on his stiff cock. Mrs. Johnson slid back, away from Jason. It was nice of him to say this. He was indeed a good boy. But, she hardly wanted to be the reason that Jason might lose control with her daughter. "No, no, this just won't do. Jason, you do have time. Why don't you take care of it now?" "Excuse me?" "Before my daughter gets back. This is what I have been trying to say. You can masturbate here, now, get it out of your system, and when Bridget arrives the two of you can concentrate on your studies." It would indeed help him control himself with her daughter, but she couldn't really be suggesting this, was she? "Mrs. Johnson, please, I can't, I shouldn't, masturbate, here, in your house, in your study. I don't feel right about that." "Well, you need to do it somewhere, and I hardly want you to have to sneak off to the bathroom, like it was some sort of toilet activity. Here, I will stay here with you, to reassure you, to demonstrate to you that it is perfectly fine and natural. I will sit right by your side. It will be my way of offering support." It was also her way of being able to watch, but she wasn't about to say that. "Mrs. Johnson! I can't do it in front of you!" "Well, I don't see why not, but if that does trouble you, I promise I won't look. And, besides, I can be of some help." Much to Jason's surprise and shock, Mrs. Johnson began to unbutton her blouse. "It was my breast that initiated this whole problem and it will be my breast, both of my breasts, in fact, that will help with the solution." Mrs. Johnson could feel the blood rushing to her face but she wasn't at all sure whether it was embarrassment or excitement. As she undid her blouse, she recalled one of the dreams that had so troubled her before and now it seemed to becoming a reality, yet it was no longer a nightmare. This would indeed be good for her as well, as she was, quite literally, confronting and conquering a nightmare. "Mrs. Johnson, I really don't know if this is the right thing to do." Emotionally, Jason was feeling a little unsure about this. After all, Mrs. Johnson might be even twice his age. She was though awfully darn attractive. She had been a pretty girl when she was Bridget's age and was still a very striking woman. Beyond simply her rather prominent breasts, she had long shapely legs, wavy blonde hair, pretty green eyes, rosy cheeks, and sweet red lips that always seemed to be gaily smiling. Jason's cock wasn't so ambivalent. It was swelling as each button was unclasped, and reached its full erection when Mrs. Johnson parted her blouse to reveal a very lovely, very sexy, white lace bra that rounded and cupped her full breasts in such a delightful presentation. "Do you like my brassiere, Jason?" "Oh yes, ma'am. It's um, well, quite appealing." Mrs. Johnson giggled at his awkwardness. Of course, he had no real experience or understanding about what would constitute an "appealing" brassiere. "Jason, would you mind please helping me with its clasp? It's always so difficult for me to reach behind my back. Jim usually helps me with this and, well, he is not here, of course." It was now Mrs. Johnson who was being completely dishonest, but it was a nicely seductive white lie. It allowed her to enjoy the experience of an innocent young man clumsily trying to undue her brassiere. Many women, and girls, naturally enjoy this. The boys are so clearly desperate to get it off, and their impatience is further compounded by their inexperience, yet they all want to convey the impression that they are smooth and suave. It's cute, and Jason didn't disappoint her. Jason wasn't entirely inexperienced in removing a brassiere, but he had in fact only done it twice for Bridget, and even the second time was still clumsy, and Mrs. Johnson didn't help matters by keeping her blouse on so that he had to lean into her, reach around her back through her blouse, and figure it out by blindly blundering trial and error, at the same trying to avoid accidental contact of his chest with her breasts, which Mrs. Johnson appeared to be making more difficult by even thrusting her chest out, ostensibly to help him reach around behind her. She further compounded his plight by taking the opportunity provided by their close proximity to rest her hand directly on the protrusion within his slacks. She acted as if it was just an accident and that she was not in fact even aware of the intimate contact, and that probably flustered him all the more. No young man is not going to find it rather embarrassing, to say the least, to be "accidentally" bumping his erection against the hand of his girlfriend's mother. Mrs. Johnson at first giggled at his fumbling and embarrassment, but as soon as her hand made contact with his erection, she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure; at long last, an erection and, she could tell, a rather stout one at that. She knew she would be as desperate to see his dick as he appeared to be to see her breasts. "Got it!" Jason finally exclaimed, and gratefully pulled away from her enticing breasts. Mrs. Johnson smiled flirtatiously at him as she slowly pulled the cups down off her breasts. "This will be the first time you see a woman's breasts, won't it Jason," although adding, somewhat embarrassedly, "or at least both of them." It was still technically true and Jason simply nodded, his mouth becoming dry. There was really something uniquely appealing, erotic, in seeing the breasts of a woman, a true woman, and a woman with such large ones as Mrs. Johnson, and, once they came into view, they did not disappoint. They were not nearly so firm, nor were they so perfectly shaped, as her daughter's, but that was in part their appeal. They didn't hang down or sag way down. They did still stand up well, but their shape was more oblong than round, and they appeared to jiggle and wiggle with just about any little movement. Jason knew that if he buried his face in these, they would truly envelope, absorb, and engulf him. He wanted to grab them so badly. "Alright, Jason, let's see your penis." "I thought you said you wouldn't look." "Well, yes, not when you actually get started. But, it seems only fair that if I show you my breasts, you show me your penis. Isn't that how you kids would play?" Jason didn't point out that a truly fair exchange would be for her to raise her dress and lower her panties, but one thing his mother impressed upon him was not to argue with the mother of your girlfriend, even when you knew full well that you had a valid point. He unbuckled his slacks and lowered his zipper. Mrs. Johnson waited expectantly, her heart beginning to pound. At the moment of truth, Jason did hesitate. Was he actually dreaming? Was he really about to remove his erection from his slacks to show it to Bridget's mother? This just didn't seem right. "What about Bridget?" She responded with the same question, asking why he was asking. "What about Bridget?" "Isn't this wrong? Should I really do this?" "Jason, this is precisely for Bridget that you are doing this. This is to protect her virtue. Trust me, son. I am her mother. I know what is best, for her, and for the future of your life with her. Now, show Mrs. Johnson your Johnson." She smiled at her joke, as did Jason, helping to ease the tension. He reached inside the fly of his slacks and then his boxers. Mrs. Johnson's smile broadened as she was about to see, for the first time in such a long time, a stout erect cock, and even one belonging to a handsome young man. She was not disappointed. Jason was not at all big, but his penis was so terribly firm, stiff, and proud, and capped by the shiniest purple plum she had seen in years. She loved plums. "Oh my, Jason, it's really very nice." It is always nice to receive a compliment from your girlfriend's mother. You do want her to approve of you. He graciously replied, "Thank you, Mrs. Johnson." "No, really, Jason, it's lovely. My goodness." She was truly feeling a bit flustered. She could feel her heart racing as she sat transfixed at the sight of the young tower, thrusting out from his slacks, a staunch ripe tool begging to be touched, to be felt, to be tasted. "You will make my daughter very happy one day." "I surely hope so, Mrs. Johnson." "Yes, well, alright then, why don't you, um, get down to business and take care of him. He really does look like he needs your attention." "Yes, ma'am," he replied. He clasped the shaft in his hand but, before he began to stroke it, he reminded her, "You said you wouldn't watch, Mrs. Johnson." Jason and Mrs. Johnson "Well, you know, honey, I really do think I would be remiss, as Bridget's mother, if I didn't in fact help you out with this." "Excuse me?" Mrs. Johnson again slid over close to Jason on the couch, her full breasts weaving and bobbling with her movement, her thigh pressing against his, her rate of speech escalating with nervous excitement. "I really do appreciate how awkward it would be for you to have to masturbate in front of me. I can't imagine what I was thinking! How silly of me. My, my. I just don't know what I must have been thinking, suggesting that my daughter's boyfriend play with his thing. What kind of a hostess am I? What would Martha Stewart say about this? Really, it was very thoughtless of me. Here, let me take care of it for you." And, with that compelling, albeit pressured, speech, she reached over, pulled his hand away, and grasped the young man's hard cock in her own hand. He gasped at the feel of her hand on his cock, she gasped with the feel of his cock in her hand. "Yes, yes," she whispered throatily, "this is much better." "Yes, ma'am," Jason had to admit. "It's so much nicer to have the feel of a woman's hand on your, um, well, penis, isn't it, Jason." "Yes, yes, absolutely, Mrs. Johnson." He could not agree more. "Well, you just sit back, my boy, and let me handle this for you." It did feel so much better to have a woman's hand jerk him off rather than doing it himself. It was perhaps odd, how different it did feel. It was, perhaps, like tickling. You couldn't really tickle yourself, and you can't really stimulate yourself nearly as well as someone else's hand will provide, and this was the hand of an experienced, older, and attractive woman, a woman with her naked boobs spilling out of her blouse, now shaking and wiggling with some agitation as she stroked his cock. "Oh, Mrs. Johnson, I don't think it's going to take too long." She smiled. She would have liked to be able to play with his dick a bit longer. Actually, for quite some time. She had been literally dreaming about such a moment for quite a long time. It would be a shame to have it end so quickly. It was so nice to once again feel a firm, hard cock in her hand, to feel its smoothness in her fist, to see and feel its strength, to watch the purple bulb swell with arousal as her fist moved up the shaft. But, Bridget would be coming home soon and young men probably don't last that long anyway. Besides, it was nice to hear that she was exciting him so much that he would be unable to control himself. There was, though, one concern. "Mrs. Johnson, wait, wait, it'll get all over everything." Jason's mother had made it clear to him to always be careful about spilling things when visiting Bridget's house. It seemed to her that he was always leaving a mess in his own home. He might be able to get away with that at home, but not when visiting his girlfriend's house. His mother was speaking about glasses of milk and soda, not about cocks squirting their cum onto the carpeting, but the principle was the same. "Oh my, yes," Mrs. Johnson agreed. She had forgotten how hard and far a young man might shoot his load and, besides, even if much of it didn't go far, it wouldn't be good to get his pants all stained. What would his mother say about that when he went home? What would Bridget think? She wondered if perhaps she should take it in her mouth. It was a terrible thought, a very nasty thought, but she smiled to herself as it crossed her mind. She would love to do that. Her husband had never allowed her to do that. It was bad enough to spill the seed for no good reason, it was simply obscene to ejaculate into the mouth of a partner. Mrs. Johnson, though, did wonder how it would taste and, frankly, the fact that it was such a bad, naughty, thing to do made it all the more exciting to contemplate. She could feel her own past feelings of guilt, of shame, wash away as she played with this young man's cock. But, still, that would probably be going too far. It really didn't seem right to have Bridget's boyfriend cum in her mouth. She could hardly justify that to Bridget. "Here," she suggested, falling back on the couch, pulling him by his cock with her as she fell back down. "You can squirt it on my breasts." "Mrs. Johnson!" That took him by surprise, but it was a very nice surprise. He had admired Mrs. Johnson's breasts for so long. He had imagined touching them, playing with him, but he had never imagined actually cumming on them. The simplest solution would have been to ejaculate into a wash cloth or a rag. Mrs. Johnson knew that, and she had considered it, but only briefly. This way would really be much more fun. She was masturbating Jason for functional reasons, to help him control himself better when he was with Bridget. She was doing this for Bridget, but it wouldn't hurt to have the job, the work, be a bit pleasurable as well. As Jim always preached to the daughters, a job goes much quicker when you turn it into play. She let go of his cock so that he could properly position himself above her. In fact, she suggested that he finish the job himself. She had taken him to the finish line. It was good to let the boy be the one to actually cross the line. "You're probably better at aiming it than me, don't you think, Jason?" "Yes, ma'am." "Now, here, let me hold them up for you so that you have a good target." She grasped her breasts and pushed them together. This wasn't really just to provide a good target. They had a tendency to lose their shape when lying back and they certainly made a much more appealing and provocative target pushed together and up this way. It was like two very large white fleshy jiggly snow mountains. Jason kneeled above her, one foot on the floor, his other leg bent on her side, his cock clenched in his fist, pumping it hard to bring it to its climax. "Take careful aim, now Jason. Don't get any of it on the couch." He didn't need that pressure. He was reminded of when he was first given the responsibility of pouring the drinks at Thanksgiving, his mother standing over him as he concentrated so carefully about not spilling any of it onto the fancy lace tablecloth. It would have been easier if she hadn't said anything. "Squirt your juice for me, Jason! Let Mrs. Johnson see you shoot your stuff all over her big, lovely bosoms." That type of encouragement was much more helpful. "Yes, yes, Mrs. Johnson," he gasped. "I will, I want to." "That's a good boy. Now, let it happen, sweetie. I want to see you do it. I want to see and feel your hot, sticky, gooey, cum squirting and spraying all over me. Give it to mummy." That did it. Suddenly, a large white wad of cum gushed from the purple head of Jason's engorged cock and splatted right on Mrs. Johnson's right tit. "Yea, yea!" she exclaimed, like a mother cheering the successful effort of a boy shooting his new toy squirt gun. "Good shot, Jason. Oh yes, more, there's more!" There was indeed a lot more, as Jason had been building up for this day, albeit expecting it to be for Bridget rather than for her mother. In any case, he continued to gush and spew globs and ropes of white gism, spraying his spunk all over Mrs. Johnson's luscious, full wiggly jugs. "That's wonderful, Jason, so wonderful," and she was being quite sincere about that. Her husband had never done anything like this, and it felt so naughty, so sexy, to be watching the young hard cock twitch and squirt above her, and feeling the warm wet seed washing and spilling over her breasts. They both heard the front door suddenly open. "Mother, I'm home!" exclaimed Bridget. She called out, "Is Jason here?" - - - - - - - - - - - - - Fortunately, Mrs. Johnson and Jason had managed to hide the evidence before Bridget entered the study. Some of the cum had soaked through her blouse, but she explained that she had spilled some milk while mixing a batch of cookies. In any case, since that time Mrs. Johnson continued to "take care" of Jason whenever it seemed practicable. She couldn't repeatedly send Bridget out on errands, but when she felt that Jason needed some help to resist the temptations that must be so difficult for a young man, she would find something for Bridget to do that would give her, and them, enough time for her to help him with his predicament. One time she even took care of him while Bridget was upstairs in the bedroom. She called upstairs while they were studying, asking Bridget to send Jason down as she had some cookies for them. As soon as he entered the kitchen, she asked. "Are you doing alright, Jason. Is everything fine with Bridget?" "Yes, ma'am. We're studying calculus." Actually, they were doing a bit more than that. "You're not getting too excited with her, are you Jason?" He was getting plenty excited with her and was in fact disappointed that he had been drawn away just when Bridget had reached into his pants. "A little bit, Mrs. Johnson." "Well, I can imagine, my goodness, the way she is dressed today. I asked her not to wear such a short skirt, but she does have such lovely legs, doesn't she Jason." "Oh yes, ma'am, but I can see where she got them." He finally got to use his mother's recommended cliche. "Oh Jason, now you don't need to flatter me," but it did make her feel very good. When was the last time Jim had complimented her on her looks, and she did try so hard to keep herself attractive. "Has your penis been getting hard?" It was still a bit difficult for him to talk to her about it. She always spoke in such a maternal, motherly manner, but that was to be expected. He averted his eyes as he answered, "Yes, a couple of times." Mrs. Johnson sighed with sympathetic concern. "Well, we just can't have you getting stiffies. My goodness, if Bridget noticed one of them, well, it just might really upset her, and we can't have that. Now, you get that little rascal out of there and we'll take care of him right now." She talked as if she was going to clean a stain on his pants, although the fact was that she might actually make one. "Yes, ma'am!" He quickly unzipped his slacks and pulled out his cock. Mrs. Johnson smiled with pleasure and admiration. "He is such a handsome fellow, Jason," she said as she grasped it in her hand. "We'll just take care of this annoying boner so you can get back to your studying." Jason really didn't care for her references to "boners" and "stiffies," but he understood that mothers did tend to speak to their children as if they were still children. He could correct her, but he was concerned that he would just make her feel embarrassed. She was only trying to make him happy. Baking cookies for them was pretty much the same thing. Jason and Bridget both felt that it wasn't really necessary for Mrs. Johnson to bake them cookies, and it did make them feel a bit childish. They would prefer something more consistent with their age. Perhaps some salsa, maybe a blue cheese dip, or maybe even some smoked salmon pate, or at least some cheese and crackers. But, still, they did like the cookies. Mrs. Johnson quickly applied a rapid stroking to his cock. It would not be good for him to be down there too long and, besides, the freshly baked cookies would lose their warmth. They tasted so much better when they were still fresh with the warmth of the oven. She draped her left arm over his shoulder and pulled him to her, pressing him into her full, motherly breasts. All that could be heard was the sound of Jason's heavy breathing and the slapping noises of Mrs. Johnson's hand on his cock, pumping away. "Let's just aim this fellow so he squirts across the floor, Jason." "Oh, I don't want to spill it on your nice kitchen floor, Mrs. Johnson. It looks like you just cleaned it." Never miss an opportunity to compliment the mother on the cleanliness of her house, as his own mother had advised. "Well, that's being a very considerate young man, Jason, but the linoleum won't stain and, besides, I want to see how far you can make it shoot. Won't that be fun?" Jason had, more than one time, imagined how nice it might have been if Mrs. Johnson had been his own mother. But, that probably would have been wrong, doing stuff like this with your own mother. And, besides, Mrs. Johnson probably wouldn't do this sort of thing with her son. She was doing this for her daughter. "My, my, Jason, I can feel it swelling up even harder." She moved around behind him, crushing her breasts into his back, reaching around with her left hand to grasp his testicles as she stroked him with her right. "And your little balls are getting so tight." He didn't care for another reference to him being not so large, but perhaps he was in fact smaller than her husband. He didn't really mind. After all, it was his cock and balls she enjoyed playing with, not her husband's. She was also becoming quite familiar with how he responded to a woman's touch and the signs that he was about to cum. "I think it's going to happen, Mrs. Johnson." "Oh yes, such a good boy. I'll give you an extra cookie if you can squirt it within five seconds. C'mon now, Jason." She began to count off the seconds. "Five, four, three." That might normally put some pressure on him, making it more difficult to cum, but not now. The little games she liked to play just made it even more fun. "Two." "Yes!" he exclaimed as he felt the surge in his loins. He instinctively thrust out his pelvis. Mrs. Johnson aimed it true and straight, and the first spurt shot quite a few feet across the kitchen. "Oh my goodness, Jason! Such a powerful gun you have!" It was actually kind of fun. She aimed it in a variety of directions as it twitched and spurted, squirting out the white ropes and wads across the room, falling onto the tile with loud splats. She felt so many years younger, playing with her squirt gun in the kitchen, not caring about the mess that she made, just enjoying her fun times with her new toy. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Eventually, however, Mrs. Johnson did want to do more with her toy. It was only natural and, besides, it would be helpful for Jason, as well as for Bridget. She waited until she would again have sufficient time alone, with Jason. She didn't have to wait that long, as she constructed an excuse to have him come over to help her with her gardening. Her husband would be, once again, away golfing and Bridget had planned a shopping trip with her friends. Actually, Mrs. Johnson had planted the seed and germinated its growth by providing her with her credit card. Jason could have gone with her, but he did always look for an excuse to avoid one of those afternoons at the mall. All he ended up doing was sitting, waiting, complimenting, and carrying. Helping Mrs. Johnson with her garden didn't sound that much better but at least he would be outdoors, getting some exercise, and scoring points with the parents. He wasn't so sure that he would in fact enjoy anything else with Mrs. Johnson. There was no need to take care of him that day as he would probably go home after a sweaty afternoon in the dirt. But, he wasn't disappointed there either. When he arrived there was a note on the door, instructing him to just come in. She would be waiting for him upstairs. Yes, this was probably going to involve more than just gardening. His cock grew as he worked his way up the stairs, recalling that he had done this one time before, all the time admiring Mrs. Johnson's swinging bottom just a few inches from his eyes as they climbed the stairs to her bedroom. "Mrs. Johnson? I'm here," he called out. "Over here, Jason. I'm in here." She was indeed in her bedroom, as he had gone with her that one time before, but this time it was different, quite a bit different. This time when he entered the room he saw that she was wearing only a bathrobe, unlike what actually had happened before but very much like in her dream. "Hello, Mrs. Johnson." "Well, hello Jason, it's so nice of you to come over to help with my garden." "No problem, Mrs. Johnson. I'm really glad to help and, well, besides, I'm not really a shopper." She laughed. "No, I understand, neither is my husband." "Yes, well, shall I wait for you downstairs as you get ready?" He didn't really want to assume anything. "Well, Jason, actually, I am ready." "Excuse me?" "Jason, I think our little sessions have been helpful for you, haven't they?" "Oh yes, absolutely Mrs. Johnson." He hoped that his erection wasn't too terribly obvious. He knew that she liked seeing it but he did still feel a little self-conscious about it; after all, she was Bridget's mother. "Have they been helpful in controlling yourself with Bridget?" "Most definitely, Mrs. Johnson." That was in fact true, but not in the way she meant. The sessions helped him last longer with Bridget. He liked his time with Bridget to last as long as possible but at times he would cum rather quickly. However, if he had already cum with her mother he could last considerably longer with Bridget. So, in that regard, it was actually quite true that the sessions with Mrs. Johnson were helping him control himself. "That's so good to hear. I so very much want the relationship between the two of you to work out. And, in that regard, I think it is time to move on to something else." "Excuse me?" "Well, there will come a time, Jason, someday, when you and Bridget will have sexual intimacies." "We're not doing anything like that at all, Mrs. Johnson, really, and we won't until we get married, I promise." It was a bold lie, but it was a lie that was only to protect her feelings. "Yes, yes, of course, Jason. I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything, or imply anything like that at all. I mean, that, well, someday, like when you get married, you will have sexual intimacies." Jason just nodded. "And, well, I think it would be useful for you, and for Bridget, if you had some understanding of how things, well, you know, work and everything." He wasn't entirely sure where precisely she was going with this, but it was pretty clear that he would be happy to go there. "If you think it would be helpful, Mrs. Johnson, I would be grateful for any advice you could give me." "Your parents did speak to you about this, didn't they Jason? I mean, you know, the birds and the bees, that sort of thing." "Well, not really, Mrs. Johnson. They didn't actually talk to me about it. They just gave me this book." "My goodness. Well, of course, I do understand that. Frankly, to be honest, I haven't really sat down with Bridget like a mother should. It can be such a difficult, well, you know, intimate conversation." "Oh yes, definitely. My gosh, you know, I'm not really sure I would want to have that conversation with my mother." "You wouldn't?" "Well, I mean, it would be easier, really, to talk to you about it." He knew that was a good answer. Mrs. Johnson smiled in appreciation. "Well, I think it might be useful to do more than just talk." Mrs. Johnson moved over to the bed and sat down. "Come over here Jason and stand right here, right in front of me, if you wouldn't mind." "Certainly, ma'am." He moved over so that he was, as instructed, standing directly before her. She said quietly, "Please, Jason, pull down your slacks and undies." He quickly complied. "Yes, ma'am," he said, as he undid his belt, unclasped his pants, pulled down his zipper, and then in one swift motion pulled his slacks and underwear down to his ankles. He then stood back up straight, as did his cock, jutting out from him like a little sword. "Oh, Jason, you will make my little girl so happy when she sees your big manly penis." "Thank you, Mrs. Johnson." It was always nicer to hear her refer to it as big rather than little. "Jason?" "Yes, ma'am?" "Would you mind terribly much if I kiss it?" Her heart was pounding as she waited for his answer. Jason and Mrs. Johnson She didn't have to wait long. "Oh no, ma'am, no, if you want, if you think it's okay." Mrs. Johnson smiled. Her husband would have been appalled at such a request. He had been appalled when she had offered once to do that for him, early in their marriage. She had never tried again, at least to ask him. "Perhaps someday my daughter will be willing to do this for you. I certainly hope so. But, Jason, if she doesn't, I want you to be patient with her. Will you?" "Oh yes, ma'am, I promise." Mrs. Johnson smiled again as she leaned forward to take the young man's cock into her mouth. He deserved a reward for being a good boy, and one that she would be very happy, no thrilled, to provide. It was really kind of strange, actually, realizing that this would be the first time that she had truly placed her mouth on a cock before, and, she assumed the first time as well for this boy, yet they were so far different in age. She placed her lips on Jason's swollen red bulb. She was doing it. She was finally doing it. She was performing oral sex. And, it was as good as she had hoped it would be. He tasted so nice and felt so manly, so virile, upon her lips. She slid her lips up and down on his shaft, caressing its length with her womanly lips, kissing and caressing him, and all the time licking and exploring its engorged length with her tongue. This was so nice. She never dreamed it would be so nice. She returned her lips to its tip, closed her eyes, opened her mouth and let it slip past her lips into her mouth. The head of his cock was now inside, inside her mouth. If her husband saw her now, he would be so angry, so appalled, so disgusted. But, it felt so wonderful. She even used her tongue on his swollen bulb, cleaning, caressing, and loving the head with her wet, womanly tongue. She momentarily let it out of her mouth with a big wet pop. "Jason," she requested. "Hold my head with your hands and slide your penis in and out of my mouth, like your doing it to me this way." He did as he was instructed. It didn't seem right. He would never have done this on his own, even with Bridget. Bridget was always so concerned about her hair. Besides, it seemed a little aggressive to him, as if he was using her head, her face, to fuck. But, this was precisely what Mrs. Johnson wanted. She wanted him to fuck her face, and he did. Not aggressively so. He never went so deep as to make her choke, but he did hold her head still as he used his hips to slide his cock in and out of her mouth. Mrs. Johnson dropped her own hands and let him do the work. She remained passively still as his cock worked in and out of her mouth, like a cock was fucking her mouth, like in her dreams, and this time she greeted it with her tongue that flirted, tickled, and massaged the head of his cock as it slid by. She reached down to massage her own little stiffness, her clit, and groaned as he worked his dick in and out of her mouth. She realized that she had missed out on so much in her marriage, and was feeling so jealous of the future that Bridget would have. "Mrs. Johnson, wait, wait!" Jason quickly pulled out, a string of saliva following him and falling away as his cock flipped out of her mouth. If he had continued he would have cum in her mouth, and he wasn't at all sure that she would be happy about that. Mrs. Johnson wouldn't mind. It was still something she had not yet done with him, or with any man. She really wanted to taste it. But, she was here for Jason, for his future, for the future with his bride, and she had to be sure that his concerns, his needs, came first. "Alright Jason, it's now your turn." She leaned back on the bed and pulled her robe wide open, revealing to Jason's eyes, once again, her voluminous breasts and, for the first time, her womanly cunt. She had spent some time this morning trimming and shaping its coiffure so that it wasn't at all bushy, nor would it hide from view the delight normally hidden within her curls. She could see Jason's eyes widen with lust and perhaps shock at the sight. "This is the first time you have seen a woman's vagina, isn't it Jason." "Yes ma'am," he replied. Again, not technically a lie. "Well, I hope Jason that you will please Bridget as I just pleased you. Would you like to try it first with me? You know, just to see what it's like? To help you learn how to do it, how to someday please her?" She couldn't believe how obscene she felt, lying back on the bed, her legs parted. No, she went farther than that. She spread her legs, like she imagined some dirty slut would do, opening herself up, fully exposing, presenting, her vagina, her, should she say it, or at least think it? Yes, spreading open her cunt for the young man to lick, to suck, to eat. She hadn't ever felt so wet down there. Perhaps she should have brought some napkins? Well, it was too late now. "I would love to, Mrs. Johnson, really I would." He stepped out of his pants and briefs, a little clumsily as he was in a bit of a hurry. This may indeed be good for his relationship with Bridget. He had already done this with Bridget, but he had to admit that he felt he was shooting blind. He didn't really know what to do and had felt too self-conscious to ask if he was doing it okay or if she liked something else. "Will you tell me how? I mean, let me know how you like it?" In contrast to Bridget, he felt quite comfortable asking her mother. After all, she was a mother. You were suppose to ask mothers for advice, for assistance, for guidance. "Well, of course, Jason, I would be happy to." Mrs. Johnson in fact had less experience with this than Jason, but she was at least a woman and she would know what she enjoyed. Jason's effort was actually a rather clumsy affair, at least at the beginning. Jason dove right in, trying to find her hole with his tongue and then trying to push it up inside like it was a cock. Mrs. Johnson did enjoy the feel of his tongue exploring around and it was strangely erotic to have it lapping away at the entrance to her vagina. But, he didn't get in at all far and it was clearly more of a frustrating effort than a fruitful sensuality. She instructed him to instead first concentrate on her clit. "Jason, here, take a close look." She even spread open the lips of her vagina to show it to him, to allow him to inspect it, explore it, at first with his finger and then with his tongue. "Yes, that's very nice, Jason, very, very nice," she said softly as his tongue worked over her clit. "Lick it Jason, lick it like a little puppy." "Oh my yes!" he exclaimed as he followed her lead. She did indeed like that. "Now, press down hard on it, massage it, like it's a sore muscle that needs to be worked out." She groaned with pleasure as he worked hard on her clit with his tongue. She grabbed his head and pushed him hard against her, as he had earlier grasped her head. "Now just lightly caress it, like your making love to it." She slid her fingers through his hair as she felt his tongue softly explore her clit. "Now use your lips, Jason, clasp it with your lips and suck on it." She twitched and jerked with that. "Now caress, no massage, it with your lips, grind your lips against it," and she ground her hips back at him as he firmly pressed his lips against her clit, circling around and around, occasionally slipping his tongue out to sneak a quick taste, a quick lick. They continued at this for some time. He at times even brought her close to an orgasm, but she would have him stop, as she wanted this to last forever, or at least much of the afternoon. She eventually told him to shift back down to her lips with his tongue, using his lips on her lips, continuing though to caress, massage, or tickle her clit with a finger, or a thumb. It was like she had her own personal sex slave, forced to do her bidding as she pleased, and it felt so nice, so very, very nice. "Please, please, Jason, I want you now. I want to feel your manliness within me, withinside of me." Her grammar wasn't quite right but that was hardly what was on her mind. This was something that Jason had not in fact done with Bridget. They were indeed waiting for a marriage before they went all the way. They hadn't openly discussed yet such a marriage, but it was an unspoken assumption that it would be each other that they were waiting for, and they both did in fact agree, they had vowed, that they would save that moment for their honeymoon. Jason pulled his mouth free of her cunt, his face all plastered with her moisture, her feminine juices. "Do you really want me to do it, Mrs. Johnson. I mean, for us to do it?" "Oh yes, Jason," she gasped, her breasts heaving, her legs fully spread. "It's been so long for me," she confessed, "and there is still so much for you to learn." He hesitated, not so sure if they should really go this far. He had never done this before, with anyone, and perhaps it wasn't the right thing to do. Mrs. Johnson sensed his ambivalence, his uncertainty. She was perhaps learning as much about Jason as he was about sex and, like a good mother, she could now read his feelings, even his thoughts, through his behavior. "Jason, if you do this with me, it will be so helpful in preserving your vow with Bridget. It will be your outlet, your escape, when it becomes so difficult for you." She was right. He now realized that. Frankly, much of this had really been just to please her, as well as please himself. He wasn't so sure that it was really helping his relationship with Bridget. But, it was true that there were times he came close to trying to convince her to break their vow, to go all the way. He wanted to do it so much, to feel his cock within a tight, wet, hot cunt. He knew that it would feel so very, very good. Bridget's hand was great, and her mouth was fantastic, but he figured nothing probably could compare to her cunt. But, if he had Mrs. Johnson for that, well, it really wouldn't be that hard at all to wait. It was sort of like the next best thing, in more ways than one. And, perhaps he could learn a great deal from her, with her. "Alright, yes, I'll do it." "Such a good boy," she responded. "Here now, get up here, on the bed, in between my legs." She helped to position him. She did at least have experience with this and could indeed help him. She recalled how her husband had been so clumsy about this on their wedding night. She knew that Jason would be much more skilled than Bridget's father. And, he would be more patient, more considerate. As Jason tried to immediately shove it in, she instructed him. "No wait, first just caress my vagina with the head. Use it on me like you used your tongue, your lips." It was not at first easy for him to do, as he had to figure out how to position himself, to balance himself, so that he could maneuver his cock, to use it like a hand, like a finger, like a tongue, on her cunt. But, he soon got the hang of it and then it became difficult for another reason. It was so arousing, so stimulating, so erotic, to be caressing her wet hot lips, to be massaging and tickling her clit with his soft but engorged crown. Mrs. Johnson squirmed beneath him, meeting his circling cock with her own gyrations, with her own flirtatious thrusts and spasmodic jerks. This was something her husband would never do, and it was again so terribly nice. Both Jason, and Mrs. Johnson, at times called for the other to stop, as they were both coming so close to cumming. "Alright, alright, Jason, I'm ready now," she quietly gasped. "Put it in me." Jason grasped his cock and tried to position it, but Mrs. Johnson quickly took over, realizing that, as his first time, this might not be that easy for him. She carefully lodged the head of his cock at the gate of her sex. She whispered into his ear. "Do it sweetie, give mummy your big hard thing." Jason thrust with his hips and felt his dick slide easily up her cunt. She felt so wonderful, so hot, so wet, so soft. She grasped hold of his cock with her cunt and thrust her hips against him. "Do it, sweetie, plunge it in and out real fast. Make mummy happy." Jason worked his hips hard and fast, thrusting rapidly in and out. He wanted to cum so bad. He could feel it so bad. His cock was so hard and his balls were so worked up. But, she in fact beat him to it. "Jason, you're making Mrs. Johnson cum! I'm cumming so hard, so hard. Such a good boy." She was swept away by the spasms of pleasure that coursed through her body, causing her to twitch and jerk, her cunt to spasmodically pulse and contract. He was indeed a good boy and he knew it. What boy wouldn't be proud of making a mature, an experienced woman, cum with his cock, and with that realization he exploded himself, gushing forth his seed deep into her vagina, gasping "Mrs. Johnson," as his cock twitched, jerked, and bucked within her cunt, gushing its wet, sticky gism far up inside. She kept urging him to cum more, whispering in his hear to plant his seed deep within her garden, to soak her with his juices, to shoot his hot load, to spurt his hot, wet cum deep inside, speaking in a way that she had never imagined she would do. He felt faint as he repeatedly gushed wad after glob of cum up her cunt. Blasts of cum gush from his cock. She stroked his head in a soothing, nurturant, motherly voice. "Good boy, Jason, that's so much cum, mummy's so proud, her little man is making mummy so very happy." When he was done he sank into those soft full pillow breasts. He cupped one fondly in his hand. His head felt so nice resting on her full soft breast, rising and falling with her breathing. He indeed had been a very good boy. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I hope you enjoyed it. I would love to hear any suggestions for future stories, or for follow-ups. I can always use the help, and the encouragement. Toward that end, please do take the time to vote, if you wish.