1 comments/ 23996 views/ 0 favorites Whip It By: JukeboxEMCSA It's often the little things that change your life. In the case of Erik Dyson, it was construction on I-94. The left two lanes were closed, which made rush hour a depressing ordeal...unless, of course, he abandoned the freeway and took a more roundabout way to work, cutting through the red-light district. Not that it was much of a red-light district, he mused as he drove along the first morning of his new commute...a few ragged-looking hookers here and there, an adult bookstore, and one shop called "Forbidden Desires" that, from the window display, sold lingerie and sex toys. The red light next to that one seemed particularly long to him...he waited for what seemed like five minutes at it while tapping his fingers, singing along with the radio, and trying to avoid the embarrassing tableau of two mannequins, one male and dressed in a leather bikini and face-concealing slave mask, and the other female and dressed in some sort of dominatrix's outfit, wielding a whip. Honestly, he thought as the light finally changed and he pressed down hard on the gas, who would possibly be into getting beaten up like that? The drive home was much the same as the drive back, with the exception of the angle he viewed the window display at "Forbidden Desires." It was the same display, submissive man and dominant woman, and he repressed a shiver. It wasn't that he thought men should be dominant and women submissive or anything, he mused; rather, he thought that the whole thing should be about equality. Mutual love. Not the caress of a leather whip... The light turned green, and he accelerated again...this time, though, he watched the display in the rear view mirror for a while, still trying to figure out what would go through a man's head when a woman was whipping his ass. And then he slept... biting down on the leather strap in his mouth tasting the bitter tang of the leather feeling naked and exposed without his clothes but loving it loving the cool air on his nipples and on his back as his Mistress laughed (so musical!) and then the swish and CRACK! and he felt the sweet sting of the whip the sweet sweet sting of his Mistress's love for him and he did not cry out because a good slave never cried out Mistress would be so disappointed in him if he cried out he would be a good slave and take the CRACK! of the whip again and again as she showed him her love and her power and he obeyed her like a good good slave The dream stayed with him the entire drive to work, haunting the back of his mind as he navigated automatically through traffic. That was what freaked him out about dreams, he thought as he once again hit that same red light, and found his eyes once again drawn to the repellently attractive window display. It was like there was some part of his mind that was holding him hostage, making him want something that he didn't want--that no normal person would want. He looked at the mannequin, trying to picture himself underneath that mask, accepting discipline...No. Nothing here that wants that. The idea of enjoying being whipped...the light turned green, and he pulled away quickly. Work seemed too short, now; time whizzed by as he did his normal duties of filing and sorting, organizing and arranging...he even did an hour or two of overtime, hoping to delay the time before he left so that he would be able to take the freeway once again. But his thoughts drifted as he drove, and without even realizing it, he'd missed the turnoff for the freeway and was passing down the side streets, stopping once again at that red light (and why wasn't it ever green?) The display was still there; he was hoping that perhaps they'd changed it, but the man was still wearing that mask, still down on his hands and knees as the woman lofted her whip possessively, ready to give him the punishment that he no doubt deserved... Erik sighed. Great, he thought. Now I'm giving them personalities. He decided that tomorrow, traffic or no traffic, he was taking the freeway to work. And then he slept... on his knees again no strap in his mouth now she wanted his tongue free to lick as she whipped him lacing stripe after stripe of redness on his back the welts like tiny little kisses love bites from the Mistress as he polished her leather boots with his good slave tongue tasting the leather again better than before because it was in the service of his Mistress not just enduring the pain like before but serving her with his tongue as she whipped him again and again each time the CRACK! of the whip and the musical laughter the only real sounds in the dream and the taste of leather in his mouth as he licked and licked like a good slave boy and an obedient slave boy He woke up early, half expecting his back to be covered in whip marks; it was like the dream hadn't quite ended yet as he showered and staggered into his clothes (and a tiny part of his mind seemed to ask, "Why do we need clothes?" But he shut it up.) He was already a good portion of the way into his drive to work (his pledge to take the freeway already forgotten) when he realized that he'd woken up well before his alarm. He still had over an hour to kill. After thinking about it, he decided to simply pull over to the side of the road and try to wake up from his dream. He just wanted to collect his thoughts... He pulled over, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. He was sitting right across from "Forbidden Desires", and the display was already lit (perhaps the store was open twenty-four hours a day? Only one way to find out, that tiny part teased, and he thought he heard musical laughter...) He stared at the display, watching the slight play of light on the whip as cars passed him by. It gave the whip the illusion of motion in the pre-dawn grayness, the impression that she was swishing it back and forth, preparing to give her slave a good hard lashing with it...he caught himself wondering what her name was, and that was when he decided to move on. He passed off his being late to work as oversleeping, and was frazzled-looking enough to pull it off. He didn't want to think about how long he'd been sitting there. Work seemed to drag on endlessly, now. He sat in his desk, and every time he heard someone approach, he half-expected to hear musical laughter. The motion of the whip seemed to haunt him, and by the end of the day, he was more than ready to leave. His boss scowled at him, but said nothing. The light was red again as he approached "Forbidden Desires", and he watched the display with a morbid fascination. The Mistress seemed to have a triumphant smirk on her face, now...with a groan, he pulled forward as the light turned green--then pulled into the small parking lot just past the shop. This is stupid, he thought as he got out of his car. This is idiotic. You haven't had a steady girlfriend in months, even if you did, you wouldn't be asking her to whip you. You don't want to be whipped--it's just some weird fantasy your subconscious has whipped up (musical laughter again...) to pass the time on a long boring drive. You're just going to make an idiot of yourself. You don't want to go in there... There was a tiny bell mounted just above the door, and it tinkled musically as he went into the shop. The lights were dimmed, creating the atmosphere of a boudoir, and the scent of leather, latex, and vinyl hung heavy in the air. He saw no counterperson...just the outfits, dozens of them, every fantasy imaginable...a shiver passed through him, and he could feel himself getting hard. "Can I help you?" a woman said as she stepped through a beaded curtain at the rear of the store. She was tall--perhaps six feet, although the high heels she wore contributed to that a lot. Her hair was dark, and flowed down over the leather outfit she wore like twin waterfalls over her very prominent breasts. He was idly surprised to discover that he barely even noticed all that, though, next to her eyes--she had such striking eyes... "I, um..." his words seemed frozen in his throat. "I'm sorry, I should introduce myself. My name is Melora; I am the Mistress of this shop. Was there anything...particular you were interested in?" "I, I was interested in the whip I saw in the display." She smiled. "Were you?" He froze in her stare like a deer in the headlights, unable to do more than nod wordlessly. She chuckled (and her laughter was so close to the dream, so close to the Mistress, that he almost fell to his knees right there) and walked across to the storefront, removing the whip from the hand of the mannequin and taking it into her own. With a sure grip, she swished it idly through the air as though she was preparing to give her slave a good, hard lashing with it... "Are you ready, then?" she asked. Erik trembled...and finally, shaking his head, darted out of the store once again. He gunned the engine, racing home--thankfully, no cops stopped him to see where the fire was. He didn't know what had scared him. He didn't know why he ran. He only knew that Melora (Mistress Melora! his mind prompted him) had a hold on him...that staying any longer would have been staying too long... And then he slept... Mistress holds out the whip and he licks his way along the length showing her that he loves her loves her for the tender kisses and glorious pain that she bids him endure as his slave with each CRACK! she shows him that she loves him owns him the two words intermingle in his mind as she unzips the crotch of her leather panties and presses his face to her mound and he uses his tongue now for the utmost purpose a slave can pleasuring his Mistress licking her clit licking her cunt making her cum as she wraps her legs around him and swishes back the whip and CRACK! again and CRACK! again as she cums and cums and cums and he is so happy to be the slave between his Mistress's thighs and knows that this is his place pleasing Her and making her cum and taking her punishments like a good slave boy a good slave boy a good slave boy The bell tinkled again as he stepped into the shop. He hadn't bothered calling work; they'd know soon enough that he'd never come there again. He had more important things on his mind. Melora stepped out from behind the beaded curtain once again. This time, she was already holding the whip in her hands, caressing it with gloved fingers. "Ah," she said, smiling. "The boy from yesterday. You never did tell me your name...but it doesn't matter, does it?" He shook his head. "You wanted this, didn't you?" She gestured with the whip. "...yes..." "Yes?" "Yes, Mistress." "Then there's something you must do first, isn't there?" He nodded, and silently began to disrobe. Melora laughed musically as he stripped... ***** Alan sighed, cursing the red light as he stopped once again on the same damned corner. Nothing on this corner to look at--at least the hookers provided a diversion. This was just a blank storefront now, ever since that kinky clothes store had shut down. He sighed. Guess the owner found something better to do... THE END Whip It Good The ringing of the telephone dragged Angela Larson out of her zone. She carefully put the saddle soap and the whip she was treating down and wiped the excess from her hands before picking up the cordless extension in her shop. "Hello?" "Angela, this is Betsy. I'm sorry to bother you on your day off, but Malcolm called in sick; he caught that flu bug that's been going around. Can you fill in for him?" "Damn!" she thought to herself. Angela preferred to have the Friday before an auction day off. Auction Saturdays were incredibly intense for Angela as she had to improvise numerous short scenes as she auctioned off the 25 slaves that volunteered to help raise money for the monthly charity. Out loud, however, she merely said, "Sure, I can come in. When do you need me?" "Will 4:00 work for you?" "Sure, I'll be there." "Thanks, Angela, you're a life saver." By the time she'd set the phone back down, she could feel it building; that rage she fell into whenever her life didn't go the way she wanted it to. Unless she could burn it off somehow, she'd be useless; worse than useless, really, at The Mephisto Club tonight. The one thing a floor person couldn't afford was to be out of control. Angela did the only thing she could think of. She retrieved the phone and dialed. "Hello," came the oriental voice on the other end of the phone. "Surmi, this is Angela. Are you free right now?" "Yeah, I just got back from the graveyard shift. What do you need?" "I'm pissed and I need to work it off before work." The excitement in Surmi's voice was plain. "How mad are we talking about?" "At least an hour, maybe two." "Oh, that sounds lovely. I can be there in an hour. Will that be soon enough?" "That would be great. I'll see you then." Angela smiled. She knew she could count on Surmi. Surmi Yakomosha was a masochist and a pain slut. Unlike many submissives in the BDSM lifestyle, Surmi loved pain for its own sake. Just the thought of being in pain, suffering nearly unendurable agony, had Surmi soaked in her cunt and panting for breath. Even more, Surmi could climax from pain itself, even absent direct sexual stimulation. Her nervous system wouldn't turn the pain into pleasure, but would take pleasure from the pain. As far as Angela knew, Surmi had never safe worded from pain. Angela returned to her whip, wanting to have it treated by the time her willing victim arrived. Knowing she had an outlet, she let her anger grow. By the time Surmi arrived, Angela was livid and Surmi was due for a wonderful time. Fifty minutes later, Angela was laying several whips on the table in her play room. Her simmering anger would need a fair amount of violence to release. She knew many people who'd be appalled at her intention to take whip in hand to a sub while such a simmering rage lurked inside her. Truth was; she wouldn't do this with anyone. Surmi knew her anger issues and what the effects would be during the whipping. In Angela's younger days, she had control issues; to the point where she was a danger to everyone about her. Anger she didn't know how to deal with would build and build until it exploded. When it did, there was collateral damage, lots of it (she'd had to buy two to three TVs a year back then). It was only when she discovered her enjoyment of BDSM play, and especially whip play, that she found a safe release for her anger. When Angela played with a whip, she fell into an almost trance-like state where she and the whip were one. The whip became an extension of her body; she needed only to will the action and it happened. When the whip landed on skin or cracked, it was as if her own body released the stored energy. Every crack, every lash would ease the tension from her body and mind. Her anger, when she was mad, would travel down the whip to be flung out the cracker as an audible demonstration of her feelings (the cracks were always louder when she was mad). Yet, during these very dangerous times, she couldn't lose control. The whip; it demanded control or it would turn on her. A small scar just under her left eye, usually covered by makeup, was her reminder to always be in control of the whip. So while she released her anger during a whipping, it was a controlled release; as opposed to the uncontrolled releases that cost her so many televisions in the past. The doorbell broke Angela from her thoughts. She dashed upstairs to let Surmi in. "Hi, Angela. You've let it build up, haven't you?" "Yes, it was going to anyway, so I've been sinking into it." "All the better for me. Let's see what you have for me." The ladies went downstairs to the playroom and Surmi looked over the whips Angela had set out She hefted each one, letting it play out, swishing it to get a feel for what would be hitting her body. As she did, her smile grew. This impromptu scene was going to be a good one. "Hood and collar?" "Good idea. Blood okay?" "Fine." Surmi started undressing while Angela went to one of the storage cases and retrieved a leather hood and a thick, leather, posture collar. The hood and collar together would protect Surmi's face and neck from injury. In a matter of minutes, the oriental submissive's body was bare and unprotected from the violence about to be done to it, while her head was encased in impenetrable armor. Blind now, Surmi extended her hands so Angela could tie them with rope. The bound hands were tied to a hook that was lifted to the ceiling. Angela picked up her first instrument, a short, thin whip that gave a pronounced swish when she wielded it. Short controlled movements of her arm sent the end towards Surmi's back. Each time the cracker of the whip landed, it left a small, red welt. Each welt was accompanied by a grunt from Surmi as she absorbed the pain, reveling in it. The line of welts slowly descended until Angela reached Surmi's ass. At that point, Angela changed whips, picking up a longer whip with an angled handle, sometimes called a buggy whip. With a strong flick of her wrist, she cracked the tip just as it reached Surmi's ass. Surmi squealed and jumped at the explosion of pain in her ass. The whip cracked again, leaving a bright red mark on the helpless woman's other ass cheek. This red mark started to run down Surmi's butt, a drop of blood that made Angela smile. The whip reached out repeatedly, leaving those bright red marks, some of which trickled down the submissive's butt. Accompanying each mark was a squeak from Surmi from the pain of the impact. As the lashes from the whip kept coming, Surmi's sounds became less those of pain and more those of pleasure. The pain response never fully left, but more and more of the pleasure she was experiencing as a result of the pain was bleeding through. When Angela sensed that Surmi was hovering on a pleasure plateau, she stopped and changed to her third and last instrument for the scene, an eight foot bull whip. A deft arm movement brought the whip forward where the cracker broke the sound barrier just beside Surmi's hooded face. The resulting crack had Surmi flinching and moaning simultaneously. Several more cracks of the whip served to heighten Surmi's fear to maximum levels (even a pain slut fears the crack of a bull whip). The motion of Angela's arm changed and the whip started to lay stripes across Surmi's back. She was careful to only let the three feet of fall and cracker land on her victim's flesh, knowing they could be replaced fairly easily; far more easy than replacing the entire whip. Each blow had Surmi tensing in pain, feeling for the pleasure in this new sensation. As she continued with her whipping, Angela moved around Surmi's suspended body, letting the lash marks spread across her entire canvas. Breasts, belly, legs; all were soon covered with the long red stripes the whip left as it caressed Surmi's flesh. Soon, each blow had Surmi's head back, moaning into her hood, as the twinned feelings of pain and pleasure coursed through her nerves. Angela's anger had faded by now; now she was watching to make sure Surmi received her reward. Though they'd never been touched by any of the whips, Surmi's pussy lips were engorged and protruding, as if to accept anything that might be passing by to enter her cunt. They glistened with juice that was running down her legs to mix with the sweat and blood. Angela's last stroke wrapped around Surmi's hips and landed the end of the cracker against Surmi's clit. That last violent caress was all it took and Surmi screamed as her long awaiting climax overtook her. Her body shook the loop of whip loose and continued to shake as ecstasy washed over her. Angela carefully set the bull whip aside and looked over Surmi for any signs of permanent injury as the suspended woman shook through the last throes of her orgasm. When the climax passed, Surmi hung loose from the hook, too exhausted to continue standing on her own Angela lowered Surmi to the floor where the submissive rested a few minutes, regaining enough strength to move on her own. While she did, Angela donned a traditional lab coat to protect her own clothes from bloodstains. Angela had a small shower stall in her playroom, with a shower bench for those too tired to stand properly. She helped Surmi to it and let her clean her body of the accumulated fluids. Once clean, the last few persistent bleeders were closed with a styptic. "How are you feeling, Surmi?" "Fantastic. You did me good today. All that anger is gone?" "Yes, very much so." "You know, Angela, I just don't get it. How can you whip me so well and not show any signs of arousal?" "It's not about sex for me, Surmi. It's exciting and fun to whip someone like this. I guess I'm a sadist, not a sexual sadist. My sex life is very vanilla, actually." "Well, you certainly turn me on. Charles is the only other person good enough with the bull to do this, and he won't." "I know. He has his reasons." "Whatever they are, it's why I left him. I have needs, and one of them is to be whipped like this on occasion." "Well, it's my pleasure. You take care of yourself, okay?" "I will. Thanks again, Angela." * Thanks to Dani for another nice editing job. I hope you enjoy this little diversion as I try to throw off writer's block on Death of a Master. Whip It Out The summer of 1982 is the most memorable of my life. It consisted of my sexual awakening at the hands of my mother. For those of you who read my first letter, you may have doubts that one individual could have a sexual encounter with his mother and mother. Rest easy, I never touch my mother the entire summer. Yet the experiences encountered are very special to me. CHAPTER 1 School's out and I'm doing everything possible to not help on the farm. We're grain farmers in Southern Missouri. Corn, rice, soybeans. I always volunteer for the easy jobs, delivering fuel, supplies etc. Whatever will get me home or to a friend's house the quickest. I still remember every moment of this Saturday in late June . I decided to take my 410 shotgun down to the ditch bank and shoot some moccasins, turtles, birds whatever popped up. I yelled at mom and told her what I was going to do and was it ok to get shells out of dad's closet. Dad let me keep the guns in my room but he always controlled the shells. Mom said "fine I'm starting supper, be back in a couple of hours." Like most kids growing up, pilfering in their parents' closets or drawers is always pretty cool. Dad had hunting equipment, old trophies, baseball cards etc. in his closet. Stuff any kid would take an interest in. I grabbed the shells and went to close his door when I looked over at mom's closet door that was open and gave it a peek. I wasn't intending to take long, just give it a glance. I have never found any porn in the house so I wasn't expecting anything earth shattering. I don't think mom owned any type of sexy nightie either. I had never seen one anyway. That wasn't her style. She was all tomboy, grew up on a farm and married a farmer. Kept her hair in a quick ponytail most of the time. I noticed an object on the top shelf between sweaters. This was a new addition I was sure. It was wrapped in newspaper. It was about a foot long and round. Pulling it down and unwrapping it, my heart about jumped out of my chest. It was a ceramic dildo. The reason I knew it was ceramic was mom took a ceramic class every tuesday night with a bunch of her friends and she had been bringing home plates, cups, pitchers all winter and sitting them around the house. The dildo had the same amateurish paint job as the other pieces. It was painted a flesh color with a brush and the crude head was painted a bright red. It had a balls area with black marks to simulate hair. Holding it, I realized how big it was. At least a foot long and really big around. The only thing I could think about, was mom going to stick it up her? Had she already done it? Did she like it? Was this the size girls liked or was this the size of most guys? I wrapped it up and placed it back in the closet returning to my room. I just sat on the bed thinking about this discovery . I never thought about my mom having sex. She was just always there doing her mom thing. My biggest concern was my dick. It was never going to be close to that size. I had become pretty proud of my dick. It got nice and hard and I enjoyed touching it. There were a couple of girls I had been talking to and dreaming about them maybe jacking me off. Now all of a sudden I didn't want any girl seeing or touching me if mine was small. I laid on the bed pretty depressed when mom came in the door. "I thought you were going outside." "I changed my mind. Just leave me alone." What mom does that? She started in on me "what's wrong, I know something's bothering you, are you sick?" I finally said "I saw what you made in ceramics class." When she looked at me we both knew what I was talking about. Yet she played dumb and said, "what do you mean? which piece?" "The one in your closet." Mom responded "oh that thing, that was just a joke, a bunch of us made them to be funny. You shouldn't let that bother you. Besides if you minded your own business you wouldn't have seen it." I continued laying there not responding when she said "why is that bothering you so much?" "Are they all that big?" Mom sat down on the edge of the bed. "Jamie that was just a joke a bunch of us girls did, the size is what was supposed to be funny." "Mom, I'm not even half that size." She just sat there without speaking, collecting her thoughts. "Jamie, you're a normal guy in all ways. There is nothing for you to be ashamed about or worried about. Now get up and get going." "Mom you don't know If I'm normal or not. You're my mom , you'll say whatever you think you need to or what you think I want to hear. Just leave" and I rolled over and faced the wall. I could feel mom still sitting on the bed and her eyes burning a hole in me. It seems like we sat like that forever without moving. She finally stood up and grabbed me by the shoulder rolling me over, "all right kiddo whip it out, let's see it." "Mom, no way, your crazy." "Well there's only one way to tell and I can promise you I'm not going to tell a soul are you?" "Come on, shit or get off the pot" Mom said. One of her favorite lines. I exhaled and looked up at the ceiling breaking eye contact. I started pushing my jeans down and realized I didn't have a hard on. How was this going to work? I stopped and looked at mom, "uh, it' not big right now, you know what I'm talking about?" "Yeah go ahead, I can make a good decision anyway" she said. I lowered them down just past my balls and looked at mom. She is looking at it and I guess she knew I was getting ready to run off at the mouth as she said "just be quiet, give it a minute" and continued to look at it. I looked down as well. As I calmed down, the idea my mom was looking at my dick worked it's way into my brain. Actually both brains. It started to grow. Mom never sat down just stood there with her apron on looking at my dick. It was rock hard and pointing straight at my face. We're both just staring at it. After a couple of minutes mom reached over and grabbed my forearm and guided it to my crotch "Go ahead, let's see if it works right." My face turned beet red. It was so embarrassing. But the touch was needed. I didn't want to stare into her eyes or turn away, that seemed rude. I just stared directly into her chest, covered by her apron as I jacked off. It seemed like a long time went by as I played with myself. My mind began to wander as to how this was going to end and I started slowing down when mom said, "don't slow down, keep going" and I resumed my pace. As the pressure increased and the feeling was consuming me, mom reached over and slowly pushed my shirt up to my neck. This simple act caused me to start cumming, shooting on my chest. My hand was flying on my dick and my butt bucking off the bed. As I started coming down I looked over at mom. She smiled and said " It looks okay to me kiddo. Seems to work fine too." She took off her apron and laid it on my chest. "Get cleaned up and head outside, I don't want to see you till supper." My mind was in overdrive the rest of the day. I calmed down that evening and I realized how cool the whole thing was. I remember thinking mom saw everything and said I was normal. CHAPTER 2 The next morning I woke up and got ready for church. After I got dressed I had some free time and was laying in my room thinking; my mom watched me jack off yesterday. As I thought about it I started getting a hard-on. About that time I heard Dad walking through the house yelling "come on! Let' go, load up!" I'm laying there with a raging hard on. NO way can I go to the car. My sister's older than I am, she would give me hell if she knew about it. About that time mom came in the room. As usual she's wearing her bright yellow summer church dress. "Let's go, your dad's at the front door." He always locked the door on Sundays said that was the perfect day for thieves to work. "Mom, I cant' go today." "Why not?" I move my hands for her to see my trousers. To me it seemed like a big bulge. She said," what's the matter" looking down, still not quite understanding. Then it dawned on her and she said " you've got an erection!" "Jamie this is a bunch of crap! You know better than this" "Mom, I cant' help it, it just happened" She turned and quickly went to the door shutting and locking it. This was my take charge mom. I've seen her act like this many times. "Hurry, whip it out!" she whispers. And that's what I did, laying on the bed in my church clothes with my dick out. Mom said "close your eyes." I felt her take my hand and turn it palm up and then I felt my palm fill with a liquid. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she had spit in my hand. She quickly guided it to my dick and said "go as fast as you can" Well, this was a new experience for me. My adrenaline went from 0 to 60 in 2 seconds. My hand was flying and after only a few strokes I knew it was time. All of a sudden my mom gives one of those quiet, mean whispers; "shit Jamie you got your church shirt on." It was all said and done in a matter of a couple seconds. There was no time to pull my shirt up. Mom slammed her hand over my mouth and pushed my head half way through the mattress. My eyes flew open at the same time my dick disappeared from my body. I honestly thought it was gone. Mom had swallowed it whole just as I was cumming. Mom knew what she was doing. I would have screamed or yelled I was so surprised by the feeling. Dad and sis would have come running. The feeling doesn't need describing. I'm coming in a woman's mouth and it's my mothers'. I really didn't get to enjoy the afterglow at all. Dad yells again, "Let's go NOW! Move it" Mom raised up quickly and she was pissed. "Jamie this is absolutely not the time for this bullshit." She pushed and shoved me towards the door ripping me good. I was scrambling to get my pants buttoned. The rest of the day I replayed it in my head. I figured out She was embarrassed and mad. She was compensating by berating me. We both couldn't believe that had happened. She just acted out of instinct. I remember realizing much later that night she swallowed! The next few days I avoided mom. She wasn't outwardly mad at me but I wasn't going to give her the chance either. CHAPTER 3 During the summer mom sunbathes between the barn and equipment shed. They sit about 200 yards behind the house. There is a wide area between the two buildings and the ends open on the fields. This gives mom privacy. Dad's always teasing mom "did you skinny dip today?" We don't have a pool but everyone knows what he means. On this day I had made plans for a friend to pick me up and we were going to the movies that afternoon. Kevin called and asked could I spend the night after the movies and I told him I would have to ask. He was on his way to get me. Mom yelled earlier that she was heading to the barn and not to burn the house down. Which meant she was going to lay out and don't bother her. I headed out to the barn. We almost never interrupted her because it was too far and we enjoyed some time alone without her bossing us around. I know what you all are thinking. No she wasn't masturbating and no she wasn't nude. She had on her two piece that any 40 year old would wear in 1982. She had the cups rolled down as far as they would go. The straps were off as well. She was doing her best to get rid of the tan line. I don't know for sure what size her tits are but they are full and sag slightly. I notice without support they fall to the sides. I can determine her nipples are no longer under the cups but still cannot be seen as the strap is wide and teasing me unmercifully. Nothing was showing, yet but to me there were definite possibilities. "Hey mom" I said as I approached her. She keeps an old vinyl chaise lounge out here. She's flat on her back taking in the sun. "What do you want? What have you done now?" "Uh nothing. Kevin wants to know if I can stay the night after the movie." "Sure, that's ok." I just stood there looking everywhere but at her. She tilted her head and looked through her sunglasses at me and smiled a little. "Yeah well see you tomorrow mom." I turned and started walking off. "Hey" I stopped and she said "you've been quiet lately are you ok?" I nodded my head a little and then said "I'm sorry about the other day." "Yeah well that was absolutely the worst time to pull something like that" She used that same line Sunday. "What do you mean the worst time? Laughing a little. Is there a good time?" "Smartass" she says laughingly. "Sit down there, you've got a little time." I sit down on the ground by her head. "Jamie your not the only one going through different things. All your friends are discovering sex too." "I understand what it's like out here. I grew up on the farm with not many people around. It's not like in the city where you can run the streets with a bunch of kids." She sat there looking at me and said " I'm going to tell you something that happened when I was a kid." "Your Aunt Susan and I were riding our bikes up to the store one day. We were 18 the same as you now. We had to ride our bikes everywhere. Kids didn't have cars like they do today. You know how far that is right? About 4or 5 miles." Do you know Tom Brown?" "You mean that fat mechanic?" "Yeah, well he didn't used to be fat. He's my age and lived at the crossroads." "We were riding by his house and he tagged along a ways. We stopped and rested at the bridge just hanging out when he asked if either one of us had ever seen a real dick." "I remember your aunt Susan went crazy on him. I smarted back at him oh yeah Tom we see them all the time. We're going to the store to see some now, or something stupid like that" "Well Tom said you shouldn't have a problem looking at mine then and whipped it out right there on the bridge." "I just stared I was so shocked. Susan is standing next to me and surprisingly she hasn't said a word either." Tom just smiles and watches us. "Come on Marilyn I dare you to touch it" I was getting ready to just turn around and leave when your aunt Susan says "yeah Marilyn touch it, your chicken." Can you believe that little bitch?" Mom says laughing. "I walked over to Tom and poked it with my finger a couple of times. He holds it up and says you got to grab it" "I looked at Susan and she's just smirking. So I grabbed it. I'm standing there holding his dick in the middle of the bridge and I turned the tables on Susan say who's chicken now? Why don't you touch it?" "She comes over and watches me jerk it a little and then she took it out of my hand. I guess she wasn't going to let me win." "Anyway, she stands there jerking it for a while when Tom grabbed her hand and starts cumming. Susan was trying to pull away and Tom's stuff was all over their hands." "Susan finally got loose . She ran back to her bike and beat it for home. Tom and I were laughing so hard!" "When I got back home Susan was washing her bike. The handle bars had stuff on them. She didn't talk to me for days." I sat there on the grass laughing at mom's story not quite knowing why she told it. "Sometimes I call up Susan just to be mean and I'll ask her Do you know who I saw today at WalMart? She always falls for it and says who? Tom Brown, he was asking about you!" "She goes crazy on me. Although she thinks it's funny now too." "I told you that so you will know that things happen that aren't planned. Everyone experiments." "So, mom you never said if there was a good time or not!" I said half laughing. She looks over at me and shakes her head. "You're just like all other guys Jamie, always looking for a chance to whip it out. Go ahead. This is as good a time as any." "You serious?" "Yeah sure." I stand up which puts me standing over her head and drop my shorts. My cock is immediately hard from her story and I start stroking it just looking at her and she's staring at me through her sunglasses. After a few seconds she raises her hand, grabs my dick gently and pushes it down a bit, saying "point that somewhere else." As she aims it at her upper chest. She never releases my dick and is just holding it. She pulls my cock until I have to shuffle closer, directly next to her lounge. She just starts jerking me as she continues to sunbathe. I think I've died and gone to heaven. Mom looks over at me and takes her hand off, spitting in it a couple of times and replacing it. She begins rubbing and twisting spreading the spit around to eliminate the friction. She gets satisfied with it and quick jerks me a little turning her head forward again. I'm taking in her body and desperately want to see her tits. Her cleavage is so inviting. I feel so powerful with my cock pointed at them. Mom alternates her speed and slows down slightly, however lengthening her strokes. She is jacking to the bottom until I feel her hand hit my stomach on each downstroke and then back up to the top. She's being very thorough. Mom reloads the spit and continues twisting it a little now. I can tell I'm getting close and I guess she can too cause she increases her speed. She's still just looking forward jacking me like it's not a big deal. She quits going to the bottom and starts focusing on the head by squeezing slightly on it on every pass. Her rapid jerks on the head send me over the edge and I start cumming. The first strand arced across her upper chest landing fully on it. The next one across her swim suit onto her lower stomach. A couple of last weak shots landed on the upper breast nearest me. She just keeps holding it squeezing and massaging my cock for every drop. I realize her eyes are open and she has looked up at me. As I stand viewing my release on mom's body, the cum on her stomach has run down to her waistband and is collecting. "Sorry about that" I say. "That's ok it will dry" I see a dust cloud on the dirt road and know that's Kevin coming to get me. "Gotta go mom, see you tomorrow" as I pull up my pants and head towards the turn at the end of the barn. I stopped and looked back at mom for a second and she is fingering my stuff, smoothing it out on her chest and stomach so it will dry better. CHAPTER 4 When I got home the next day I could hear the lawn mower in the back yard and knew mom was mowing. I was anxious to talk to her. I knew she wasn't mad at me about Sunday anymore, and yesterday was awesome. I wanted to know how she was going to act. I grabbed some iced tea and went outside. Sitting on the table top of the picnic table I watched mom make some turns. She is wearing her typical mowing clothes. A white one piece that looks a lot like a swimsuit. It is actually a dance costume she had to buy when she and a bunch of her friends took some dance classes. It's not revealing at all, with sleeves and a full seat. Mom likes it because cars going by don't get a "free show" and it is also thin and a lot cooler. She pulls up to the table and turns the mower off. "I'm doing your job!" She says laughing. "Thanks" I brought some tea." She sits up on the table at the other end and rests. We sit and talk a while about school starting and my baseball team schedule this summer. I don't know why I expect her to mention yesterday but she doesn't and acts like it didn't happen. I finally say awkwardly, "hey about yesterday, thanks." She stares at me for several seconds; "you're a little shit, you know that? I know what you're doing." Half smiling.