Perchance to Dom
by DiscipleN
I've lived more than 18 years. During them, I've read my share of raunchy stories. I don't believe any of them, especially this one. I like the ones about submissive mothers and young sons who break out of their comfort zones and learn to take control.
Nobody does that, though. I mean, sure a mother is fucking her son, right now, somewhere in the real world, and maybe he pressed to do so, but no one has ever lived the insanity my mother and I created from our Yin and Yang dance. And if something similar has occurred, no one has found the intensity of joy that we have.
It started with my father and my mother's father. Both were stern men. Of the two, only my father enjoyed my mother's deep embrace. Grandpa never hugged anyone, but he could wallop my mother's backside with the lust of demons. That thin, elderly copy machine technician looked and acted like a polite breeze, in public. In private, he had gone through six wives. Most divorced him. The last died. They said 'of the vapors', but did you know that severe trauma to flesh can lead to cancer? It's rare, but mother's step-mother was given a superior chance.
I love my grandpa. He's quiet and gives me presents when he visits. He doesn't talk much to me, no lectures at least. I'm thankful. When he's around, he spends most of his attention watching my mother. In his presence, Mother acts brighter, forthright, directed, no non-sense. She doesn't show him the slightest weakness.
My father knew better. He and Grandpa were discussing the house computer network that day. "I'd rather drill a hole than buy a wifi repeater. This house already had too many gadgets."
"But a cable will look terrible no matter how you string it."
Mother walked in with a pair of beers to back up the nearly empty ones Dad and Gramps sip while they chatted. She picked up the empties, turned smoothly, and tripped over something, I didn't see what, I was in the dinning room listening with one ear and playing the new tablet game Gramps had gifted. I did turn in time to see my mother collapse in slow motion with four bottles in her fingers. She managed to roll down on her side instead of smack the floor, but one glass vessel slipped free and crashed upon perfectly maintained hardwood.
"Lisa, you clumsy imp!" Grandpa burst and leaped to his feet."
"Anthony, this is my house." Father spoke calmly.
Grandpa Tony looked left and right, at my mother and my father. He took a breath and let it out.
"I'm driving home now." He said simply. He left then.
"Lisa, did your father trip you on purpose?"
"No, Ed, he didn't." She picked her self up and wiped up the broken bottle. Around her father, she kept a hand towel tucked in her skirt. He liked to spill things.
"Let's talk in the master." Father called their bedroom, the master." He walked out of the living room and down the hall, expecting his wife to follow.
She threw the glass pieces into the trash, dropped the towel in the sink, and still managed to keep three paces behind her husband.
"Walter, don't touch that towel. I'll wash the shards out of it when your father's finished with me."
They entered their bedroom and locked the door. Except for the small accident, it was a typical day in the Nelson family. Except I couldn't resist. I crept down the carpeted hall with all the stealth I had learned from computer games. Putting my ear to the door opened a new world to me.
"Bite the gag harder, wench!" If our boy hears one peep out of you, I'll drive him to a whore house, pay the madam to keep him for the night, and manhandle you until noon."
Father paused. "This is for letting your father get the better of you."
I didn't hear anything.
"This is for soiling the living room."
Was that the crack of electricity?
"This is for acting like a fool!" Father whispered intensely.
Their bed's posts squealed over the hardwood in that room, as if a body shifted upon it suddenly and hard.
"Do you need to breath?"
Another, longer pause.
"Bite." Father counted to five. "This is for lying to me."
I didn't want to hear anything. I slunk back as he said it. I'd been conditioned to respect the privacy of that room with the threat of having my groin cut to match a Ken doll.
The lights in the house dimmed for two of my heartbeats.
Mother greeted me thirty minutes later. "Is that game any good?" Her skin was flush red.
"Yeah, Mom, kinda." I felt sweat ooze out of my forehead. My armpits must have smelled like a sewer. I feared the next second. Father would step in and accuse me of listening.
She went to the sink. She took the towel outside and shook it in the alley. Then she put it in the washing machine, the only item in it. I heard it rev up. That's when Father reappeared from the hall.
"I'm going to the electronics store."
Dad would have allowed me to join him. I thought about it. Electronics were my favorite toys. Dad was a giving man, often letting me pick out something, as long as it showed respect for his pocketbook.
"I want to beat Grandpa's score on the leader board."
It was the first time I saw my father grin. "I've been trying since the day I met your mother." He exited.
"Mom?"
"Don't ask me. Your father's probably just in a good mood."
It took longer than I imagined. It was several years before I won the top slot from Grandpa. But that day started it. That was the first time I felt desire for my mother.
The second time was a long time coming. Well before then, I decided to have a girlfriend, like a policeman decides to have a donut.
I stood in the schoolyard and watched. Something inside me knew how to pick the right girl. It wasn't about tall or short, fat or skinny, light skin or dark skin, a pretty face or a not ugly face. It had to do with posture. A weak person has terrible posture. A strong person has a posture not worth noting. I was looking for good posture carefully maintained. I was looking for the girl who would eventually put on makeup to go to 7/11. I wanted a girl with chutzpa but lacking strong confidence. Cheryl would be my girl.
I saw her walk up to a boy playing with a baseball bat. She told him to find another girl. "If you ever talk to Larissa outside of class, I'll let her father know who gave her that black eye."
The boy lifted his bat angrily, but Cheryl only smiled and walked away. I didn't see her face after she turned, but her posture slipped for just a second and then it was perfect. I got a hard on watching that.
"Hello, Cheryl."
"Do I know you?"
"We had a class together last year. I'm Walter Nelson."
"What do you want?"
"Something I'm going to have to earn from you."
She tipped one step back before stepping closer. She said in my face, "I have no time for little boys with riddles."
I attempted to look into her soul. "I'll show you how big I can be."
"Creep." She stepped past me and didn't look back.
Days of defeat followed. I turned out to be a stalker, not what I would someday call being a dom.
"Creep!" Cheryl shouted when I told her I'd walk her home.
"Creep!" Cheryl screamed when I simply walked up to her, staring into her eyes.
I needed experience.
"Mother, how did you and Father meet?"
She coughed. "Well, that was years before you were born."
"How old were you?"
"Not old enough, but I had plenty of experience."
"You dated?"
"Not exactly. Your father discovered my situation and found a place for himself in it."
"Um, you're not going into details. What the father does, so could the son."
"No time, Walter. I'm busy with my work." She turned her attention to source code from another developer.
"Yes, but you like being interrupted when your code is compiling."
"Walter, you have my genes as well as your father's. You'll never be like him."
Her compiler finished. It hadn't found any flaws in her code.
A day later, I tried pressing reset. "Cheryl, please accept my apology. I've acted very foolishly, creepily even."
For a second, light danced in her eyes.
"Fine. Whatever."
I left before she could. I had nothing to work with, except searching something.
"Larissa, I'll do your homework, if you will tell me what you like best about Cheryl." I had to ask several baseball boys before I found the one Larissa dumped. I found her sitting in the library, texting on her phone. Her back was slumped crookedly in the chair.
"I heard you were creeping her out. No way!"
"That's in the past. Ask her."
Her eyes shifted away. "Oh. What's your name?"
"Walter."
"I don't need your help with my homework, but you should know that Cheryl is the best friend a person could have."
"You spend a lot of time together?"
"I guess."
"What do you like to do?"
"I like shopping at the mall."
"Do you buy lots of clothes?"
"I can't. I don't get much allowance."
"But Cheryl can? Does she have a part time job?"
"Cheryl doesn't buy clothes, not many I mean. She buy's toys for her nieces and nephews."
I finally got my break.
"Yeah, she works at car dealership, washing cars."
"Your clothes look very nice." I smiled.
"Um, thanks." She hunched down slightly more.
"Thank you, Larissa. Have a nice day." I turned.
"Don't you want to know which dealership?"
"I'm not a stalker." I strode away.
The next time the weather turned stormy, I asked Cheryl if her employer was looking for extra help.
Cheryl wasn't the only girl working in the service department. One very sexy, divorced woman cussed right alongside her fellow mechanics. The elderly woman had been working there for decades, handling customers with their automotive problems.
Our boss seemed to treat Cheryl decently. She might have had him wrapped around her finger, but it wasn't visible. I noticed that I had to wash the muddy, jacked up 4 wheel drives. I was taller than Cheryl and more suspicious. That didn't really matter much. I worked my butt off.
The money was nice, but the first time Cheryl opened herself up to me proved more valuable.
"Can you believe that? Gina was shut in the tool bank for ten minutes with Jake."
"Is that important?"
"Just what do you think they did in there?"
"Fuck around, probably. But probably not fucking."
She took a minute to parse my retort, or she was struck speechless.
"Gee, you really are a creep."
"And just what would you do in there, with me, for ten minutes?"
Did I see her cheeks redden slightly?
"It too bad for you, that you'll never find out."
"That's not what's important."
"Okay, big guy, what would be important?"
"If Gina actually felt something for Jake."
"Well, she doesn't. She's just another slut." Cheryl had never shown her inner bitterness to me.
I let the conversation go. There were still cars to wash that day.
"Mom, what's a slut?"
"Are you really asking that? You must have heard that word for years, at school or-" Mom stopped mid-sentence. "Did something happen at your job?"
"Nothing that doesn't happen every now and then, there."
"Spill it, Walter. Don't start with the mystery theater."
"Yeah, well Cheryl told me the woman mechanic was a slut for being alone with a guy at work."
"Walter, we taught you sexual matters are private. Talking about them makes you look silly."
"I know. But I wasn't asking if that woman is a slut. I want to know what Cheryl meant by it."
"That's known as slut shaming. It has to do with upper class people demeaning lower class people. And here I was thinking that your friend had, until now, sounded like a decent sort."
"She is, Mom. I'm sure. It seemed more like a personal bugbear."
"That is also none of your business."
Dad came home with the bacon, right then. We spent a nice evening together.
The next afternoon I spoke with Cheryl's bugbear. "Excuse me, Gina?"
"Yes? Oh, it's you, Walter. What can I do for you?"
"Is this a good time to talk?"
"Maybe, if you have something important."
"It's pretty important, but it's entirely none of my business."
"That's the best kind of important. Do you want to talk somewhere that's quiet?"
I considered it. It was hard not to go with this sexy, grease spattered slut in overalls, into an empty office booth.
"This is quick enough. Would you help me to convince Cheryl to date me?"
"If you were five years older, I'd slap your face. You don't know how many creeps have tried that line on me. 'Pretend with me for a little while, to make her jealous.'"
"Wow, I wasn't going to- Wait. Why creeps want to pretend with someone as attractive as you?"
"You're so sweet. I could gobble you up!" She reached out to me halfway.
I wasn't going to last another minute with her, before losing my reserve. "Gina, I was just going to ask if you would talk to her about premarital sex."
Gina's fawning died like a fawn shot with buckshot. "The hell you say?"
"Okay, maybe I should have-"
"What you should do is, get back to those dirty cars." She grabbed the biggest tool near her and walked away. Her posture wasn't worth noticing.
A couple days later. Cheryl gave me the funniest look.
"Mom, I'm thinking of asking Cheryl out."
"That's nice."
"I don't think I want to have sex with her, right away."
"Good luck with th- I mean, use a condom when you do. Use two if you're easily excited."
'Thank's for the advice, Mom."
Dad interjected a minute later. "Lisa I need to spend some time with you in the master."
"I'll be right there, sweetheart."
It was a Thursday when I asked Cheryl out, our slowest day. "Would you like to grab a bite before going home?"
"Took you long enough to ask." She smiled.
"I wanted to prepare, properly."
"Will this be a suit and tie affair?"
"Chile dog and a root beer?"
"Eew! I mean, sure, as long as you're buying."
"The pushcart guy has polish sausage too."
"Variety flatters a girl like flower gardens."
She ordered a bag of chips, and a root beer. We walked in the direction of her home.
"You live in a nice place?"
"Nice enough. Someone tried to break in a few years ago, but that was the only time.
"What are your mom and dad like?"
"My step-mom is nice. Dad's a little weird. Tell me about yours."
"Mom works on open source software. Dad's a master electrician."
"Nerds squared?" She didn't mean to be mean.
"Sorta. When they're working, they're nerdy enough. But they do other things when a day's work is done."
"Like what?"
"What do your parents do."
"Squabble. Walk the dog. Argue about finances. We take trips sometimes, but we've only gone overseas once, to the Cayman isles."
"My mom and dad spend most of their time in the master bedroom."
She dropped a chip.
"Hey, I paid for that." I neither grinned, nor was I really upset.
"Well, excuse me, Mr. Moneybags of a creep. You can go home now, back to your creepy parents." Again there was bitterness.
I stopped walking and watched her head home. I felt a grin deep inside me.
"Dad, what kind of dates did you have with mom?"
"Sexy dates." He didn't smile. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"No. I'm sure you did have sexy dates. What else?"
"Your mother insisted on bringing her father to chaperone our first dates."
"You were so boring, back then, I needed someone to keep me awake!" Mom shouted from the kitchen.
"Did Grandpa not like you?"
"Well enough, after a fashion."
"Father adored you, Sweetheart." Mom leaned into the living room. "He said you were his best pupil."
"Why are you telling me that, now, and in front of our impressionable child?"
"He asked."
The next day, I studied Cheryl at work, her arm motion, her posture, her intensity. She squirted me with the hose.
I walked over to the spigot and turned it off. "That was my last car to wash. You've got two more. You can use my wet rags and soap bucket but no more with the hose."
Cheryl took my challenge, my bait. She harrumphed mightily and finished scrubbing with what water was in our buckets. I turned the hose back on and rinsed the cars. We wiped them dry together.
"Do you like sushi?"
"I love sushi! I adore it, if you're buying."
"You'll enjoy it more if you pay your share."
"You have a lousy way with women."
"Is that a step up from creep?"
"Not necessarily."
The sushi was cheap and not great, but it was the best time I'd had with her, yet. We talked about classmates and homework and our ideal futures. We talked about challenges ahead. I had to ruin it. My curiosity sank me into an ocean of creepiness.
"Have you ever heard your parents making love?"
"Ooooo, I'm so through with you!" She stood up, pulled cash from her pants and threw it on the table. She overpaid by $3.17 and left.
This time I chased after her. "Cheryl! Sex isn't suppose to hurt your soul. Why are you hurting?"
She stopped. There were other people around. She turned to me, face blistering with hate. "I hate-"
"NO!" I interrupted. "You don't. You feel something good for me. Get off the sidewalk with me, over there. We can talk."
"She was crying, but she followed me.
"Look, you're no blushing idiot. You've seen things, learned things. But they haven't been good to you. Maybe some have."
"Some have." She agreed, wiping her eyes. More tears followed. "I can't tell you."
"Then tell the grass, it'll appreciate your tears as much as I do."
She spoke between sniffs. "My father cheats on my step-mom. She, she sometimes takes it out on me."
"Why would she do that? You said she was nice."
"Oh, she's REAL nice afterwards. She feels so guilty, she treats me like a queen. She doesn't want to hurt me, but we both know. I'm sure my dad knows."
"Why hasn't he-?"
"Because that fucking bitch slut has him pussy whipped!"
"I believe you. This next thing is the most important one. You are entirely not at fault."
"Sure. I want to believe that."
"I can make you."
She looked at me.
"No you can't." Anger flared in her.
"I can, if you do one difficult thing."
"What?"
"Let me take charge of you. Let me take the blame. I'm sure you parents are heaping it on you, in ways you don't realize. I can take it, because what's going on between your step mom and your father and his slut doesn't mean shit to me."
"H-how is that even possible? You're just saying words."
"Give me a chance, and I'll prove it."
"I'll think about it."
I hoped that would be the last time she thought for herself, while she knew me.
I quit the job. Gina actually made a pass at me, the last day. Damn her! Maybe it was my imagination. I waited. Cheryl thought about my offer for three days.
"Walt." Cheryl took my hand. "I'll give you one chance."
"Okay." I took a deep breath. I could do this. "Don't call me Walt."
"Huh?"
"You will address me as Walter."
"Walter, whatever."
"Cheryl, do really feel something for me?"
"I guess so."
"Then just pay attention to that, and follow my lead. Say, 'Yes, Walter.'"
My special friend looked at me with suspicion. "Is this just another creepy thing to you? I-"
"Cheryl. Either say it or don't. Trust me. It's important."
She huffed. "Okay. Yes, Walter."
"You'll follow my lead."
"I'll follow your lead."
"Okay. Hug me." I opened my arms.
She did. It was our first hug. Her hands were cold. So were her arms, but her body was warm against mine. I kissed her hair.
"You're going to take me home for dinner, tonight."
"I'll have to call my mom."
"You don't. You don't owe her anything. For the rest of the day, you only owe me -- everything."
She gulped.
Later that day, I was not expected.
"You should have called before bringing a boy home."
"Ms. Sayer, I asked her not to."
"Cheryl, is something wrong?" The step-mom slotted me into a very undesirable opinion space.
"No, Mom. I guess he wanted to surprise you."
That was more cooperation than I had expected from my new charge.
"Well knock my socks off. This certainly is a surprise. I didn't even know you were spending time with a boy."
"It's just dinner, Mom."
"Oh, we have plenty enough. You father may be late at work, somewhere." I learned where Cheryl's bitterness originated. Step-mom's voice was pure lemon. She worked to sweeten her voice. "Come on in."
I was ready for the barrage of usual questions. I spoke of my studies, my goals, my parents' work. I described meeting Cheryl at the dealership, but admitted to admiring her at school.
By dinnertime, the father had yet to appear.
"Dig in, Walter." Ms. Sayer's opinion of me had mellowed.
"Please, call me Walt." I smiled.
Cheryl kicked my calf. I smiled harder.
"I hope you like roast chicken and salad and corn on the cob."
"I do, but I'll wait until the man of the house arrives." I chose my words carefully.
"You can never tell with Henry. His work is worse than unpredictable."
She possibly meant that her husband's hours were despicably predictable.
"Can't be long now." I put my napkin in my lap. If only the front door's knob had click at that exact moment.
It clicked four minutes later. I endured Ms. Sayer's consternation until then. She had said very little to Cheryl, so far.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Mr. Sayer dashed in. I had used Cheryl's phone to text him. "I got your note. It said you were spending the night with a boy, in your room."
"Mr. Sayer," I offered my hand, "I'm Walter Nelson. The message didn't say in her room."
"Henry! Is that lipstick on your cheek?"
The night had just begun.
"Of course it is. You know what I was doing."
"Cheryl, you will see your friend to the front door and then go to your room."
"Cheryl, I've got this. Please, relax and think about what I told you. It'll be hard, but I know you can do it."
The adults stopped shouting when I talked to Cheryl in my normal voice.
"It's not a good thing for you to stay, son." Mr. Sayer voiced politely.
"It will be worse for Cheryl, if I don't."
"Are you threatening her, boy?" From 'son' to 'boy' in one round. I must have done something right.
"You can't see what IS threatening her, neither of you." That got their attention.
"I will slap you silly, if you don't leave this instant."
"That wouldn't look good on a police record."
"I can certainly haul you out by the collar. You're officially a trespasser."
"Cheryl, where did you find this nasty boy?" Ms Sayer tried to outflank me.
"Mr. Sayer, in my house, my mother would never be allowed to speak to me in a disparaging tone."
"This isn't your house. Now get out!" He reached for me.
"You'll have to take me out of here, and then you'll never hear what your wife says to Cheryl when they're alone and you're boffing some delicious side order."
"Huh?"
"You really don't know."
"Henry, evict that boy at once."
"What is he talking about, Fi?"
"He's a lying smartass. I'll take him myself." The woman grabbed my arm. We were about equal in strength and height. I had some time to ponder my next words.
"Ms. Sayer, you've been placed in a dreadful situation, but you're not really a bad person."
"Shut up!" I can't remember which one said it.
"I may be a dumb kid, but I know one thing." I didn't hesitate. "Cheryl deserves better from both of you."
"What have you been telling this brat?" Her father yelled.
"Don't, Cheryl." I cautioned, just in case. "I learned it from my parents. My parents love me as much as you both love Cheryl, but neither of you have my parent's discipline."
"I've heard a lot of stupid things in my-"
"But you haven't heard the awful things your wife hurls at your daughter."
Ms. Sayer tugged me into the living room. She reached for the front doorknob.
"Fi. Let go of him. What is he talking about?"
She ignored her husband and opened the door.
"So help me, I've never touched you, woman, but if you've hurt my girl…"
Her grip tore into my wrist. I yelped despite my resolve to be unmoved. "You bastard!" She shouted back at her husband. Then she freed me. "You sick, whore chasing fuck!"
Their row was just beginning. I dashed back into the dining area to Cheryl. Her parents' anger veiled my escape. "Take me to your room."
"No. This has gone too far. Why did I trust you? Now everything is ruined!" She yelled in a whisper.
"Everything is ruined differently!" I retorted. "This time, nobody's shouting at you. Now take me to your room."
"You think you can just come into my home and turn my parents into a perfect mom and dad? You're a stupid fool!"
"An office tower full of shrinks couldn't fix your parents. But until dawn I promised I would take their abuse. I've kept my word, so far. Mostly."
She might have laughed if the hollering in the next room hadn't been filling her eyes with tears. She led me to a staircase and took me up to her room.
"They've fought before, but tonight, shit, you pressed every button on them."
"They pressed most of them themselves."
"I hate to think what tomorrow will bring."
"Don't." I reached for her and held her. We sank to sitting on her bed. I might have offered my lips to hers. I don't remember. The house was suddenly quiet.
"They're coming." She said scarily.
I continued to hold her.
There was a knock at the door. "Cheryl, will you come out, please?"
My heart fluttered when she asked me, "What should I do?"
"Stay here." I got up. I went to her bedroom door and opened it. "Mr. Sayer? Ms. Sayer?"
"We called your parents." They must have found Cheryl's phone.
Behind me, my first charge sobbed. "That won't solve anything." I said and closed the door as if I didn't care if they blocked it. They let us alone.
My phone rang. "Son, we'll be there in fifteen minutes. Should I hire a lawyer?"
"Not just yet, Dad." I hung up. "Cheryl, what would you like to do in the next fifteen minutes?
We ended up naked, spooning under her covers. At one point, she reached around and felt my erection. She dropped it like a live eel.
I told her, "I'm going to masturbate. Decide now where you'll put my ejaculate."
I came in her hands. This time, they were as warm as her breasts against my back. Sighing, I crawled out of her bed and dressed. I left her in her room.
"Hello, Father. Hello Mother."
"Your boy refused to leave when he was asked. Please take him home."
"I promised to stay with Cheryl for as long this night threatened her."
"Walter, the law doesn't care what you promised. Come along."
"Ed, may I?"
"Yes. Of course." My father agreed.
My mother knelt before me and looked very serious. "Your father and I care very much about what you promised. Sometimes you have to accept punishment without the reward of having done what's right."
I turn to the Sayer's. "I think you'd better call the police."
The room fell silent. I watched Cheryl's parent's faces twitch. Mr. Sayer spoke. "Will he leave in the morning?"
"If that's what he promised. Walter may fib from time to time, but when he makes a promise-"
"This is ridiculous!" Ms. Sayer burst. "I'm call-"
"Shut up, Fi. You may have every reason to hate me, but this time it's about my girl. I'll decide how to proceed."
And that was that. My parents left. Mr. Sayer dragged a futon into Cheryl's room. She had put on pajamas by then. After he closed the door. I got up from the futon and climbed into her bed.
"Are you going to do what I say?"
"That's what I promised, until morning."
"And when is morning?" I reached for her buttons.
"Whenever we wake up." She shucked her bottoms.
I pulled the top over her arms and left it around her wrists. "Maybe we shouldn't go to sleep, then."
"Whatever you say, Walter."
My new erection found the cleft in her butt. I sawed perfunctorily between them. My hand roamed indelicate parts of her body. I said, "I'm not sure if we should go all the way."
"Then I've picked the wrong person to surrender to, if you're unsure."
I said, "Tell me what you want."
"I'm not sure, either, but don't stop what you're doing."
"I'll decide that." I stopped and crawled over her. I leaned my face to hers and kissed her full lips. I took her hand and wrapped its fingers around my cock. "Don't drop it this time, or you'll be punished."
"You mean, like last time?" She spurt a laugh.
"Did you wash your hands after you wiped them with tissues?" I placed my hands on the sides of her lush body. I stroked up to her pits and down to her hips.
"No. Did you want me lick them clean?"
"I'd like to see that before you wipe them."
My hand smoothed her tummy. They brushed the underside of her breasts. Her hand played with my prick. I was very excited. I didn't have two condoms.
I reached for her sex. It was trembling, moist, ready. "Tell me. What are you feeling?"
"Your dick."
My hand pushed inside her. I didn't feel a hymen. "Tell me." I repeated. My fingers sought the spot I had read about.
"This is my first time." I don't think she lied.
"Your feelings."
"Ooooh, good. Your fingers. Um, good."
Then I found her spot. In time, she bucked and squealed. "You made me cum!" She was more excited than I was. I don't know why I didn't cum when she did. Maybe it was because her hand gripped my cock like a vice while her pelvis pounded against my hand.
We didn't count her cums. My second was better than my first. She mouthed my prickhead and I decided to shoot into her throat. I sucked her pussy and clit, finishing her for the night. Our last erg was spent.
We woke up. I dressed, went home, showered. My mother was working in the kitchen, on her laptop. I kissed her cheek.
I called Cheryl. She'd had a brief row with her dad that morning, but she promised it had been healthy. She wouldn't hear many outbursts in the following weeks. Neither of us went to school, and her father stayed home for the day. She texted a pledge to obey me, "for the foreseeable future".
When my father returned from work, he belted my ass black and blue before supper. I stood while eating.
"I'm very proud of you, Walter. I didn't spank you to punish you. I did it to remind you that meddling with the private affairs of others will never resolve well."
It would take more than a loving beating for me to learn that lesson.
...to be continued...
by DiscipleN
I've lived more than 18 years. During them, I've read my share of raunchy stories. I don't believe any of them, especially this one. I like the ones about submissive mothers and young sons who break out of their comfort zones and learn to take control.
Nobody does that, though. I mean, sure a mother is fucking her son, right now, somewhere in the real world, and maybe he pressed to do so, but no one has ever lived the insanity my mother and I created from our Yin and Yang dance. And if something similar has occurred, no one has found the intensity of joy that we have.
It started with my father and my mother's father. Both were stern men. Of the two, only my father enjoyed my mother's deep embrace. Grandpa never hugged anyone, but he could wallop my mother's backside with the lust of demons. That thin, elderly copy machine technician looked and acted like a polite breeze, in public. In private, he had gone through six wives. Most divorced him. The last died. They said 'of the vapors', but did you know that severe trauma to flesh can lead to cancer? It's rare, but mother's step-mother was given a superior chance.
I love my grandpa. He's quiet and gives me presents when he visits. He doesn't talk much to me, no lectures at least. I'm thankful. When he's around, he spends most of his attention watching my mother. In his presence, Mother acts brighter, forthright, directed, no non-sense. She doesn't show him the slightest weakness.
My father knew better. He and Grandpa were discussing the house computer network that day. "I'd rather drill a hole than buy a wifi repeater. This house already had too many gadgets."
"But a cable will look terrible no matter how you string it."
Mother walked in with a pair of beers to back up the nearly empty ones Dad and Gramps sip while they chatted. She picked up the empties, turned smoothly, and tripped over something, I didn't see what, I was in the dinning room listening with one ear and playing the new tablet game Gramps had gifted. I did turn in time to see my mother collapse in slow motion with four bottles in her fingers. She managed to roll down on her side instead of smack the floor, but one glass vessel slipped free and crashed upon perfectly maintained hardwood.
"Lisa, you clumsy imp!" Grandpa burst and leaped to his feet."
"Anthony, this is my house." Father spoke calmly.
Grandpa Tony looked left and right, at my mother and my father. He took a breath and let it out.
"I'm driving home now." He said simply. He left then.
"Lisa, did your father trip you on purpose?"
"No, Ed, he didn't." She picked her self up and wiped up the broken bottle. Around her father, she kept a hand towel tucked in her skirt. He liked to spill things.
"Let's talk in the master." Father called their bedroom, the master." He walked out of the living room and down the hall, expecting his wife to follow.
She threw the glass pieces into the trash, dropped the towel in the sink, and still managed to keep three paces behind her husband.
"Walter, don't touch that towel. I'll wash the shards out of it when your father's finished with me."
They entered their bedroom and locked the door. Except for the small accident, it was a typical day in the Nelson family. Except I couldn't resist. I crept down the carpeted hall with all the stealth I had learned from computer games. Putting my ear to the door opened a new world to me.
"Bite the gag harder, wench!" If our boy hears one peep out of you, I'll drive him to a whore house, pay the madam to keep him for the night, and manhandle you until noon."
Father paused. "This is for letting your father get the better of you."
I didn't hear anything.
"This is for soiling the living room."
Was that the crack of electricity?
"This is for acting like a fool!" Father whispered intensely.
Their bed's posts squealed over the hardwood in that room, as if a body shifted upon it suddenly and hard.
"Do you need to breath?"
Another, longer pause.
"Bite." Father counted to five. "This is for lying to me."
I didn't want to hear anything. I slunk back as he said it. I'd been conditioned to respect the privacy of that room with the threat of having my groin cut to match a Ken doll.
The lights in the house dimmed for two of my heartbeats.
Mother greeted me thirty minutes later. "Is that game any good?" Her skin was flush red.
"Yeah, Mom, kinda." I felt sweat ooze out of my forehead. My armpits must have smelled like a sewer. I feared the next second. Father would step in and accuse me of listening.
She went to the sink. She took the towel outside and shook it in the alley. Then she put it in the washing machine, the only item in it. I heard it rev up. That's when Father reappeared from the hall.
"I'm going to the electronics store."
Dad would have allowed me to join him. I thought about it. Electronics were my favorite toys. Dad was a giving man, often letting me pick out something, as long as it showed respect for his pocketbook.
"I want to beat Grandpa's score on the leader board."
It was the first time I saw my father grin. "I've been trying since the day I met your mother." He exited.
"Mom?"
"Don't ask me. Your father's probably just in a good mood."
It took longer than I imagined. It was several years before I won the top slot from Grandpa. But that day started it. That was the first time I felt desire for my mother.
The second time was a long time coming. Well before then, I decided to have a girlfriend, like a policeman decides to have a donut.
I stood in the schoolyard and watched. Something inside me knew how to pick the right girl. It wasn't about tall or short, fat or skinny, light skin or dark skin, a pretty face or a not ugly face. It had to do with posture. A weak person has terrible posture. A strong person has a posture not worth noting. I was looking for good posture carefully maintained. I was looking for the girl who would eventually put on makeup to go to 7/11. I wanted a girl with chutzpa but lacking strong confidence. Cheryl would be my girl.
I saw her walk up to a boy playing with a baseball bat. She told him to find another girl. "If you ever talk to Larissa outside of class, I'll let her father know who gave her that black eye."
The boy lifted his bat angrily, but Cheryl only smiled and walked away. I didn't see her face after she turned, but her posture slipped for just a second and then it was perfect. I got a hard on watching that.
"Hello, Cheryl."
"Do I know you?"
"We had a class together last year. I'm Walter Nelson."
"What do you want?"
"Something I'm going to have to earn from you."
She tipped one step back before stepping closer. She said in my face, "I have no time for little boys with riddles."
I attempted to look into her soul. "I'll show you how big I can be."
"Creep." She stepped past me and didn't look back.
Days of defeat followed. I turned out to be a stalker, not what I would someday call being a dom.
"Creep!" Cheryl shouted when I told her I'd walk her home.
"Creep!" Cheryl screamed when I simply walked up to her, staring into her eyes.
I needed experience.
"Mother, how did you and Father meet?"
She coughed. "Well, that was years before you were born."
"How old were you?"
"Not old enough, but I had plenty of experience."
"You dated?"
"Not exactly. Your father discovered my situation and found a place for himself in it."
"Um, you're not going into details. What the father does, so could the son."
"No time, Walter. I'm busy with my work." She turned her attention to source code from another developer.
"Yes, but you like being interrupted when your code is compiling."
"Walter, you have my genes as well as your father's. You'll never be like him."
Her compiler finished. It hadn't found any flaws in her code.
A day later, I tried pressing reset. "Cheryl, please accept my apology. I've acted very foolishly, creepily even."
For a second, light danced in her eyes.
"Fine. Whatever."
I left before she could. I had nothing to work with, except searching something.
"Larissa, I'll do your homework, if you will tell me what you like best about Cheryl." I had to ask several baseball boys before I found the one Larissa dumped. I found her sitting in the library, texting on her phone. Her back was slumped crookedly in the chair.
"I heard you were creeping her out. No way!"
"That's in the past. Ask her."
Her eyes shifted away. "Oh. What's your name?"
"Walter."
"I don't need your help with my homework, but you should know that Cheryl is the best friend a person could have."
"You spend a lot of time together?"
"I guess."
"What do you like to do?"
"I like shopping at the mall."
"Do you buy lots of clothes?"
"I can't. I don't get much allowance."
"But Cheryl can? Does she have a part time job?"
"Cheryl doesn't buy clothes, not many I mean. She buy's toys for her nieces and nephews."
I finally got my break.
"Yeah, she works at car dealership, washing cars."
"Your clothes look very nice." I smiled.
"Um, thanks." She hunched down slightly more.
"Thank you, Larissa. Have a nice day." I turned.
"Don't you want to know which dealership?"
"I'm not a stalker." I strode away.
The next time the weather turned stormy, I asked Cheryl if her employer was looking for extra help.
Cheryl wasn't the only girl working in the service department. One very sexy, divorced woman cussed right alongside her fellow mechanics. The elderly woman had been working there for decades, handling customers with their automotive problems.
Our boss seemed to treat Cheryl decently. She might have had him wrapped around her finger, but it wasn't visible. I noticed that I had to wash the muddy, jacked up 4 wheel drives. I was taller than Cheryl and more suspicious. That didn't really matter much. I worked my butt off.
The money was nice, but the first time Cheryl opened herself up to me proved more valuable.
"Can you believe that? Gina was shut in the tool bank for ten minutes with Jake."
"Is that important?"
"Just what do you think they did in there?"
"Fuck around, probably. But probably not fucking."
She took a minute to parse my retort, or she was struck speechless.
"Gee, you really are a creep."
"And just what would you do in there, with me, for ten minutes?"
Did I see her cheeks redden slightly?
"It too bad for you, that you'll never find out."
"That's not what's important."
"Okay, big guy, what would be important?"
"If Gina actually felt something for Jake."
"Well, she doesn't. She's just another slut." Cheryl had never shown her inner bitterness to me.
I let the conversation go. There were still cars to wash that day.
"Mom, what's a slut?"
"Are you really asking that? You must have heard that word for years, at school or-" Mom stopped mid-sentence. "Did something happen at your job?"
"Nothing that doesn't happen every now and then, there."
"Spill it, Walter. Don't start with the mystery theater."
"Yeah, well Cheryl told me the woman mechanic was a slut for being alone with a guy at work."
"Walter, we taught you sexual matters are private. Talking about them makes you look silly."
"I know. But I wasn't asking if that woman is a slut. I want to know what Cheryl meant by it."
"That's known as slut shaming. It has to do with upper class people demeaning lower class people. And here I was thinking that your friend had, until now, sounded like a decent sort."
"She is, Mom. I'm sure. It seemed more like a personal bugbear."
"That is also none of your business."
Dad came home with the bacon, right then. We spent a nice evening together.
The next afternoon I spoke with Cheryl's bugbear. "Excuse me, Gina?"
"Yes? Oh, it's you, Walter. What can I do for you?"
"Is this a good time to talk?"
"Maybe, if you have something important."
"It's pretty important, but it's entirely none of my business."
"That's the best kind of important. Do you want to talk somewhere that's quiet?"
I considered it. It was hard not to go with this sexy, grease spattered slut in overalls, into an empty office booth.
"This is quick enough. Would you help me to convince Cheryl to date me?"
"If you were five years older, I'd slap your face. You don't know how many creeps have tried that line on me. 'Pretend with me for a little while, to make her jealous.'"
"Wow, I wasn't going to- Wait. Why creeps want to pretend with someone as attractive as you?"
"You're so sweet. I could gobble you up!" She reached out to me halfway.
I wasn't going to last another minute with her, before losing my reserve. "Gina, I was just going to ask if you would talk to her about premarital sex."
Gina's fawning died like a fawn shot with buckshot. "The hell you say?"
"Okay, maybe I should have-"
"What you should do is, get back to those dirty cars." She grabbed the biggest tool near her and walked away. Her posture wasn't worth noticing.
A couple days later. Cheryl gave me the funniest look.
"Mom, I'm thinking of asking Cheryl out."
"That's nice."
"I don't think I want to have sex with her, right away."
"Good luck with th- I mean, use a condom when you do. Use two if you're easily excited."
'Thank's for the advice, Mom."
Dad interjected a minute later. "Lisa I need to spend some time with you in the master."
"I'll be right there, sweetheart."
It was a Thursday when I asked Cheryl out, our slowest day. "Would you like to grab a bite before going home?"
"Took you long enough to ask." She smiled.
"I wanted to prepare, properly."
"Will this be a suit and tie affair?"
"Chile dog and a root beer?"
"Eew! I mean, sure, as long as you're buying."
"The pushcart guy has polish sausage too."
"Variety flatters a girl like flower gardens."
She ordered a bag of chips, and a root beer. We walked in the direction of her home.
"You live in a nice place?"
"Nice enough. Someone tried to break in a few years ago, but that was the only time.
"What are your mom and dad like?"
"My step-mom is nice. Dad's a little weird. Tell me about yours."
"Mom works on open source software. Dad's a master electrician."
"Nerds squared?" She didn't mean to be mean.
"Sorta. When they're working, they're nerdy enough. But they do other things when a day's work is done."
"Like what?"
"What do your parents do."
"Squabble. Walk the dog. Argue about finances. We take trips sometimes, but we've only gone overseas once, to the Cayman isles."
"My mom and dad spend most of their time in the master bedroom."
She dropped a chip.
"Hey, I paid for that." I neither grinned, nor was I really upset.
"Well, excuse me, Mr. Moneybags of a creep. You can go home now, back to your creepy parents." Again there was bitterness.
I stopped walking and watched her head home. I felt a grin deep inside me.
"Dad, what kind of dates did you have with mom?"
"Sexy dates." He didn't smile. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"No. I'm sure you did have sexy dates. What else?"
"Your mother insisted on bringing her father to chaperone our first dates."
"You were so boring, back then, I needed someone to keep me awake!" Mom shouted from the kitchen.
"Did Grandpa not like you?"
"Well enough, after a fashion."
"Father adored you, Sweetheart." Mom leaned into the living room. "He said you were his best pupil."
"Why are you telling me that, now, and in front of our impressionable child?"
"He asked."
The next day, I studied Cheryl at work, her arm motion, her posture, her intensity. She squirted me with the hose.
I walked over to the spigot and turned it off. "That was my last car to wash. You've got two more. You can use my wet rags and soap bucket but no more with the hose."
Cheryl took my challenge, my bait. She harrumphed mightily and finished scrubbing with what water was in our buckets. I turned the hose back on and rinsed the cars. We wiped them dry together.
"Do you like sushi?"
"I love sushi! I adore it, if you're buying."
"You'll enjoy it more if you pay your share."
"You have a lousy way with women."
"Is that a step up from creep?"
"Not necessarily."
The sushi was cheap and not great, but it was the best time I'd had with her, yet. We talked about classmates and homework and our ideal futures. We talked about challenges ahead. I had to ruin it. My curiosity sank me into an ocean of creepiness.
"Have you ever heard your parents making love?"
"Ooooo, I'm so through with you!" She stood up, pulled cash from her pants and threw it on the table. She overpaid by $3.17 and left.
This time I chased after her. "Cheryl! Sex isn't suppose to hurt your soul. Why are you hurting?"
She stopped. There were other people around. She turned to me, face blistering with hate. "I hate-"
"NO!" I interrupted. "You don't. You feel something good for me. Get off the sidewalk with me, over there. We can talk."
"She was crying, but she followed me.
"Look, you're no blushing idiot. You've seen things, learned things. But they haven't been good to you. Maybe some have."
"Some have." She agreed, wiping her eyes. More tears followed. "I can't tell you."
"Then tell the grass, it'll appreciate your tears as much as I do."
She spoke between sniffs. "My father cheats on my step-mom. She, she sometimes takes it out on me."
"Why would she do that? You said she was nice."
"Oh, she's REAL nice afterwards. She feels so guilty, she treats me like a queen. She doesn't want to hurt me, but we both know. I'm sure my dad knows."
"Why hasn't he-?"
"Because that fucking bitch slut has him pussy whipped!"
"I believe you. This next thing is the most important one. You are entirely not at fault."
"Sure. I want to believe that."
"I can make you."
She looked at me.
"No you can't." Anger flared in her.
"I can, if you do one difficult thing."
"What?"
"Let me take charge of you. Let me take the blame. I'm sure you parents are heaping it on you, in ways you don't realize. I can take it, because what's going on between your step mom and your father and his slut doesn't mean shit to me."
"H-how is that even possible? You're just saying words."
"Give me a chance, and I'll prove it."
"I'll think about it."
I hoped that would be the last time she thought for herself, while she knew me.
I quit the job. Gina actually made a pass at me, the last day. Damn her! Maybe it was my imagination. I waited. Cheryl thought about my offer for three days.
"Walt." Cheryl took my hand. "I'll give you one chance."
"Okay." I took a deep breath. I could do this. "Don't call me Walt."
"Huh?"
"You will address me as Walter."
"Walter, whatever."
"Cheryl, do really feel something for me?"
"I guess so."
"Then just pay attention to that, and follow my lead. Say, 'Yes, Walter.'"
My special friend looked at me with suspicion. "Is this just another creepy thing to you? I-"
"Cheryl. Either say it or don't. Trust me. It's important."
She huffed. "Okay. Yes, Walter."
"You'll follow my lead."
"I'll follow your lead."
"Okay. Hug me." I opened my arms.
She did. It was our first hug. Her hands were cold. So were her arms, but her body was warm against mine. I kissed her hair.
"You're going to take me home for dinner, tonight."
"I'll have to call my mom."
"You don't. You don't owe her anything. For the rest of the day, you only owe me -- everything."
She gulped.
Later that day, I was not expected.
"You should have called before bringing a boy home."
"Ms. Sayer, I asked her not to."
"Cheryl, is something wrong?" The step-mom slotted me into a very undesirable opinion space.
"No, Mom. I guess he wanted to surprise you."
That was more cooperation than I had expected from my new charge.
"Well knock my socks off. This certainly is a surprise. I didn't even know you were spending time with a boy."
"It's just dinner, Mom."
"Oh, we have plenty enough. You father may be late at work, somewhere." I learned where Cheryl's bitterness originated. Step-mom's voice was pure lemon. She worked to sweeten her voice. "Come on in."
I was ready for the barrage of usual questions. I spoke of my studies, my goals, my parents' work. I described meeting Cheryl at the dealership, but admitted to admiring her at school.
By dinnertime, the father had yet to appear.
"Dig in, Walter." Ms. Sayer's opinion of me had mellowed.
"Please, call me Walt." I smiled.
Cheryl kicked my calf. I smiled harder.
"I hope you like roast chicken and salad and corn on the cob."
"I do, but I'll wait until the man of the house arrives." I chose my words carefully.
"You can never tell with Henry. His work is worse than unpredictable."
She possibly meant that her husband's hours were despicably predictable.
"Can't be long now." I put my napkin in my lap. If only the front door's knob had click at that exact moment.
It clicked four minutes later. I endured Ms. Sayer's consternation until then. She had said very little to Cheryl, so far.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Mr. Sayer dashed in. I had used Cheryl's phone to text him. "I got your note. It said you were spending the night with a boy, in your room."
"Mr. Sayer," I offered my hand, "I'm Walter Nelson. The message didn't say in her room."
"Henry! Is that lipstick on your cheek?"
The night had just begun.
"Of course it is. You know what I was doing."
"Cheryl, you will see your friend to the front door and then go to your room."
"Cheryl, I've got this. Please, relax and think about what I told you. It'll be hard, but I know you can do it."
The adults stopped shouting when I talked to Cheryl in my normal voice.
"It's not a good thing for you to stay, son." Mr. Sayer voiced politely.
"It will be worse for Cheryl, if I don't."
"Are you threatening her, boy?" From 'son' to 'boy' in one round. I must have done something right.
"You can't see what IS threatening her, neither of you." That got their attention.
"I will slap you silly, if you don't leave this instant."
"That wouldn't look good on a police record."
"I can certainly haul you out by the collar. You're officially a trespasser."
"Cheryl, where did you find this nasty boy?" Ms Sayer tried to outflank me.
"Mr. Sayer, in my house, my mother would never be allowed to speak to me in a disparaging tone."
"This isn't your house. Now get out!" He reached for me.
"You'll have to take me out of here, and then you'll never hear what your wife says to Cheryl when they're alone and you're boffing some delicious side order."
"Huh?"
"You really don't know."
"Henry, evict that boy at once."
"What is he talking about, Fi?"
"He's a lying smartass. I'll take him myself." The woman grabbed my arm. We were about equal in strength and height. I had some time to ponder my next words.
"Ms. Sayer, you've been placed in a dreadful situation, but you're not really a bad person."
"Shut up!" I can't remember which one said it.
"I may be a dumb kid, but I know one thing." I didn't hesitate. "Cheryl deserves better from both of you."
"What have you been telling this brat?" Her father yelled.
"Don't, Cheryl." I cautioned, just in case. "I learned it from my parents. My parents love me as much as you both love Cheryl, but neither of you have my parent's discipline."
"I've heard a lot of stupid things in my-"
"But you haven't heard the awful things your wife hurls at your daughter."
Ms. Sayer tugged me into the living room. She reached for the front doorknob.
"Fi. Let go of him. What is he talking about?"
She ignored her husband and opened the door.
"So help me, I've never touched you, woman, but if you've hurt my girl…"
Her grip tore into my wrist. I yelped despite my resolve to be unmoved. "You bastard!" She shouted back at her husband. Then she freed me. "You sick, whore chasing fuck!"
Their row was just beginning. I dashed back into the dining area to Cheryl. Her parents' anger veiled my escape. "Take me to your room."
"No. This has gone too far. Why did I trust you? Now everything is ruined!" She yelled in a whisper.
"Everything is ruined differently!" I retorted. "This time, nobody's shouting at you. Now take me to your room."
"You think you can just come into my home and turn my parents into a perfect mom and dad? You're a stupid fool!"
"An office tower full of shrinks couldn't fix your parents. But until dawn I promised I would take their abuse. I've kept my word, so far. Mostly."
She might have laughed if the hollering in the next room hadn't been filling her eyes with tears. She led me to a staircase and took me up to her room.
"They've fought before, but tonight, shit, you pressed every button on them."
"They pressed most of them themselves."
"I hate to think what tomorrow will bring."
"Don't." I reached for her and held her. We sank to sitting on her bed. I might have offered my lips to hers. I don't remember. The house was suddenly quiet.
"They're coming." She said scarily.
I continued to hold her.
There was a knock at the door. "Cheryl, will you come out, please?"
My heart fluttered when she asked me, "What should I do?"
"Stay here." I got up. I went to her bedroom door and opened it. "Mr. Sayer? Ms. Sayer?"
"We called your parents." They must have found Cheryl's phone.
Behind me, my first charge sobbed. "That won't solve anything." I said and closed the door as if I didn't care if they blocked it. They let us alone.
My phone rang. "Son, we'll be there in fifteen minutes. Should I hire a lawyer?"
"Not just yet, Dad." I hung up. "Cheryl, what would you like to do in the next fifteen minutes?
We ended up naked, spooning under her covers. At one point, she reached around and felt my erection. She dropped it like a live eel.
I told her, "I'm going to masturbate. Decide now where you'll put my ejaculate."
I came in her hands. This time, they were as warm as her breasts against my back. Sighing, I crawled out of her bed and dressed. I left her in her room.
"Hello, Father. Hello Mother."
"Your boy refused to leave when he was asked. Please take him home."
"I promised to stay with Cheryl for as long this night threatened her."
"Walter, the law doesn't care what you promised. Come along."
"Ed, may I?"
"Yes. Of course." My father agreed.
My mother knelt before me and looked very serious. "Your father and I care very much about what you promised. Sometimes you have to accept punishment without the reward of having done what's right."
I turn to the Sayer's. "I think you'd better call the police."
The room fell silent. I watched Cheryl's parent's faces twitch. Mr. Sayer spoke. "Will he leave in the morning?"
"If that's what he promised. Walter may fib from time to time, but when he makes a promise-"
"This is ridiculous!" Ms. Sayer burst. "I'm call-"
"Shut up, Fi. You may have every reason to hate me, but this time it's about my girl. I'll decide how to proceed."
And that was that. My parents left. Mr. Sayer dragged a futon into Cheryl's room. She had put on pajamas by then. After he closed the door. I got up from the futon and climbed into her bed.
"Are you going to do what I say?"
"That's what I promised, until morning."
"And when is morning?" I reached for her buttons.
"Whenever we wake up." She shucked her bottoms.
I pulled the top over her arms and left it around her wrists. "Maybe we shouldn't go to sleep, then."
"Whatever you say, Walter."
My new erection found the cleft in her butt. I sawed perfunctorily between them. My hand roamed indelicate parts of her body. I said, "I'm not sure if we should go all the way."
"Then I've picked the wrong person to surrender to, if you're unsure."
I said, "Tell me what you want."
"I'm not sure, either, but don't stop what you're doing."
"I'll decide that." I stopped and crawled over her. I leaned my face to hers and kissed her full lips. I took her hand and wrapped its fingers around my cock. "Don't drop it this time, or you'll be punished."
"You mean, like last time?" She spurt a laugh.
"Did you wash your hands after you wiped them with tissues?" I placed my hands on the sides of her lush body. I stroked up to her pits and down to her hips.
"No. Did you want me lick them clean?"
"I'd like to see that before you wipe them."
My hand smoothed her tummy. They brushed the underside of her breasts. Her hand played with my prick. I was very excited. I didn't have two condoms.
I reached for her sex. It was trembling, moist, ready. "Tell me. What are you feeling?"
"Your dick."
My hand pushed inside her. I didn't feel a hymen. "Tell me." I repeated. My fingers sought the spot I had read about.
"This is my first time." I don't think she lied.
"Your feelings."
"Ooooh, good. Your fingers. Um, good."
Then I found her spot. In time, she bucked and squealed. "You made me cum!" She was more excited than I was. I don't know why I didn't cum when she did. Maybe it was because her hand gripped my cock like a vice while her pelvis pounded against my hand.
We didn't count her cums. My second was better than my first. She mouthed my prickhead and I decided to shoot into her throat. I sucked her pussy and clit, finishing her for the night. Our last erg was spent.
We woke up. I dressed, went home, showered. My mother was working in the kitchen, on her laptop. I kissed her cheek.
I called Cheryl. She'd had a brief row with her dad that morning, but she promised it had been healthy. She wouldn't hear many outbursts in the following weeks. Neither of us went to school, and her father stayed home for the day. She texted a pledge to obey me, "for the foreseeable future".
When my father returned from work, he belted my ass black and blue before supper. I stood while eating.
"I'm very proud of you, Walter. I didn't spank you to punish you. I did it to remind you that meddling with the private affairs of others will never resolve well."
It would take more than a loving beating for me to learn that lesson.
...to be continued...
