Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/767635.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Mom/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Mom_(Homestuck), Dave_Strider, Rose_Lalonde
  Additional Tags:
      Oedipus_-_Freeform, kitchen, freud_-_Freeform, MILF, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-20 Words: 1840
****** Mother ******
by holy_cow
Summary
     Your name's Dave Strider, you just had 15 years some months ago, and
     you're currently at your GF's house, Rose Lalonde, who lives with her
     Mom...
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Your name's Dave Strider. You just had 15 years some months ago, and usually,
you live in Houston, Texas with your Bro, but for some days you're in Rainbow
Falls, New-York at your GF's house, Rose Lalonde. She's a nice girl, smart and
all. You never thought you'll have such a cool girl like her as a girlfriend
one day ; but, well, looks like destiny's full of surprise.
Her house is huge, far away from your messy flat in Houston. Well, it's not
like you don't like your flat ; it's full of junk food and katanas, which are
both vital stuffs, but, even if you won't say it like this, you feel pretty
impressed by this cleanlessness and fresh air in every rooms.
Rose lives with her Mom, as you live with your Bro. Well, not exactly as you
live with your Bro, like, they don't do ironic fights and eat pizza while
watching The Smurf on TV (At least, you don't think so). It's more... Freudian.
Anyway, that's what Rose told you one time you asked her how she felt with her
Mom. Rose is all psychanalysis and mind, that's something impressive too.
Her Mom is always wandering around the house, doing Mother things like
vacuuming, cleaning in general, watching her daughter or drinking cocktails ;
well, you assume those are Mother things, because after all you've never really
mixed with Mothers at all. Your life has been a testosterone'd one, full of fat
bacon, fight on your building's roof and « Don't jerk on the bathtub » asks.
And you begin to dream of what would have been your life with a feminine
presence. You think of a clean and welcoming house with a nice smell, healthy
meal home-cooked, ironed T-shirts... Someone asking you « How was your day ? »
with a smile full of painted lips, wearing a lacefull apron unironically,
hugging you some time when your mood isn't the best...
'Ark !' you think. Yes, ark ! You aren't here to think of what would have been
your life if it would have been more conventional! You aren't named David, you
aren't a nice little boy playing piano. Well, your keyboard may look like a
piano, but it isn't. Your name's Dave, you like strong beat, cool shades and
you're just a dude, that's it. Though...
After crossing the road of several Wizard’s Gashapons or whatever, you arrived
in the kitchen. As usual, it’s clean and shining; you’re almost scared of
touching things, with your gross fingerprints and greasy skin. So you stand
here stupidly, your arms hanging flabbily along your body. But hey, what’s the
matter? Why would you be intimidated like this? There’s no available reasons
for all of that. Nothing. Kein. Rien. You slightly sigh, shameful; you look at
the floor, so clean that you can see your stupid face in it. You begin to think
that you shouldn’t have come in New-York when you hear a little laugh in the
distance. You get out of your mind and look around you, when you see her behind
your back: Mom, standing there, looking at you, her dark lips smiling at you.
You haven’t even heard her heels or anything, but she’s just there. You say
something like haha yeah you were hungry so Rose told you to come here yeah you
touched nothing like look hey there’s no mess and you just look dumb, you don’t
even know why you’re saying those mindless words. She says nothing, her thin
hand on her hip, and you look at that and you’ve never been happier to wear
shades, though she may be able to see that you’re looking at her like an old
disgusting stalker and you fairly hope that it’s not the case and oh gosh she’s
moving forward, you move back, and you two continue like this until your ass is
against the work surface and you cannot move more, checkmate style. You feel
something on your chest, and that must be your heart beating, you weren’t even
sure you had one; your hands are lightly shaking, and oh well ALL your body is
lightly shaking in the rhythm of your beating heart. At least, your poker face
is still here, even though Mom cannot see it as you’re still looking at the
floor, oh so wonderful floor yes it’s really beautiful excellent work. And
suddenly, you feel one of her hand on your cheek, you hear her voice saying
your name; you’re just melting right now but you cannot make any move. You must
say something, but what? Well. Time out; you close your eyes, you feel your
cheeks way too warm, and you know she feels it. But somewhere, you want her to
feel your warmness, ‘cause hey, your heart seems to work perfectly fine, and so
does your blood circulation –a little bit too much though as your redness
confirm. And you just want her to feel you much, you want to feel her too, you
want to plunge in her arms, rest your head on her boobs, hold her weakly. Her
arms are thin but looks like they would protect you from everything. And you
don’t really realize how, but little by little, you slip against her; she takes
off her hand from your cheeks, then paps your head, putting her fingers between
your thick hair. Your face is all against her breast; you take a deep breath:
she smells a smart mix of famous perfume, household product and Martini. Your
shades are all tangled between your nose and your eyes while you’re sticking
your head but whatever. You almost want to cry like the little 15 years old
kiddo you are, all against his Mom, women still taller than you, but maybe not
forever. She makes you pick up your face, slowly, and advance her hands toward
your shades to take them off your face. No way. You move back again, but you
are stuck; you put your hands behind you as a way to support your bust and move
more back. But what, what can you do? With a smile, she uncovered your eyes and
you blink, you close them like there’s been a while you haven’t see some fresh
light but when you open them again, what you see is her leaning over you,
putting her hands on yours and you feel her knee between your legs pressing
your crotch and Jesus you damn your bloody blood circulation and at the same
time you’re almost moaning like a little kitty. You feel something in your
throat, you try to say a few words to make you look like you’re all relaxed,
thing that you’re obviously not but you end stamming some incomprehensible
stuffs, and you feel so dumb. As an answer, Mom stands up your face again, you
see hers advances and then you feel her lips against yours, a delightful
pressure, just wet and that’s not your first kiss but this one is just all wow
and yes. You open a little bit your mouth, you feel her chest against yours and
she’s still kissing you, because yes, she is, you’re doing nothing, you’re
unable to do anything, and you feel her knee squeezing harder your dick. Your
breath is short, almost inexistent but that’s how you want it, you just want to
feel, to go back on your Mom and one of her hand is moving down and she slips
her hand inside your T-shirt, touching you, your belly, your young nipples and
you moan, something you’ve never done while making naughty stuffs with somebody
else before. And then you feel it getting down, and down and there’s something
on your underwear, that’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever made and you’re
so hard right now, it’s nearly painful and there’s lack of space down there.
So, she stops and you know it’s going to be the big moment, but yes, you want
to hold her again, you want to be hold by her again and she makes you sit on
the work surface, your trouser has a lump and she unbuttons it, uncover your
erected manhood, you’re breathless but you feel better as it’s open. She makes
her panty slip against her thigh and god actually it’s a purple lace string,
you believe you’re on a dream but you hope not, and she smiles at you again
like she hasn’t started yet. She climbs the surface and puts herself aside you,
riding up her dress. She leans over you, kiss your cheek, near your lips and
sit down on you, sweetly, and you feel you’re getting inside; it’s warm and
wet, less narrowed than younger girl certainly, but still, you let your head
fall back and you breath with your mouth wide open until she’s completely in
and she begins to move then, crescendo, you moan again, you’re just inside her,
you’re where babies come from, where you come from, where all begins and so you
right up yourself as much as you can and try to hold her, and she does it
before you’ve got time to do so; you bury your head on her neck, warm and
smelling nice, you’re sweating as hell but you feel more than good, moving with
the to and fro movement of your bodies, and you manage to unbutton the up part
of her dress. She unholds you, makes the top completely fall around her, and
she gots no bra and her boobs are making a little shaking as she’s still moving
on you and you hold her again, you feels her lips on your face, your neck, your
hands squeeze her uncovered breasts and you feel the climax coming, you try to
swallow but you can’t, up as down, and before you can try anything else, you
have a smothered sob and you feel everything getting out of you, Mom has a
light yell of pleasure at your ear and the rhythm slow down. You slip against
the work surface, your breath coming back; Mom removes herself from you, makes
her hair looking good again, button up her dress and back up her panty. You’re
miserably lying on the kitchen, your dick still out of your trousers and semen
stark decorating your underwear and your T-shirt. You can’t reach your glasses;
Mom comes and takes them, then gives them to you again. You have a look at her,
pretty dumb, because well, yeah, you aren’t in the best position at the moment,
but you still take quickly your shades and make them meet again your nose. Mom
have a smile again, and leaning toward you, she puts up your fringe and let a
light kiss on your forehead, then leaves without saying anything else. You
stand some time, making this moment last as long as you can, then you finally
put your trousers properly, like in addition it was getting cold down there.
But yeah, you think, yeah. You wished you had a mother with you: during this
time, you had one.
End Notes
     I hope you had a good time reading this!
     Actually, this is my first fanfiction in English. I checked as much
     as I could and had several beta readers before posting this and
     apparently, there's no mistakes with language; though, if something
     bother you, just message me please and I will correct it!
     Then, at the beginning, I wanted to write something starring a young
     boy having his first sex time with a MILF. Well, that's how it
     turned, and even if 15 years old isn't that young, in my mind it was
     like he already did naughty things but never had sex with penetration
     before, and still had this kind of clumsiness and embarassement
     speaking of the subject even if he was full of hormones. I don't know
     how it turned in your mind, but those are my own ways of grasp.
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