Who wouldn’t go down on Julia fucking Ann?
On the other hand; ‘Hey mom, when did this become just your usual Saturday night show while your child walks through the door soaked to the bone?’
‘What’s that, honey?’ Jeri asked distantly, looking for the KODI control stick. Oh right, it’s my porn she’s watching, Stevie realised before his stomach dropped like a tonne of bricks into his ass. Turning to look at Stevie, his mom had a tired vacant look in her silvery grey eyes. ‘Oh, is it raining?’
‘Did you not hear the thunder? It was enough to make my butthole quiver!’
‘I mustn’t have heard it over the film,’ Jeri said plainly. It really was no big deal to her. And neither did it seem a big deal for her to be sitting watching porn with her silk robe open and plunging way down to her belly button.
If Stevie’s mouth was dry before that point, his tongue would now swell at the thought of a single drop of water. His mother had always been endowed, and much more than the typical “larger woman”. At 34FF and with the curvaceous and fulsome body of a porn star a little more before Stevie’s time — Linda Friday — Jeri’s twin-blessing had been his curse through high school. Being 44 now didn’t do her appeal any damage either.
Being told a million times that every kid in school, and then college, would bang your mom, and all the painfully shameless details of how and why (because of her mammoth tiddies, her muffins, her yes mams) was enough to torment him into oblivion, if not just the life of a hermit.
On the TV Julia Ann was coming all over Tyler Nixon’s tongue, her pussy red, puffy and ready to be impaled. Before Stevie was his mother, half-drunk with her robe untied. And here was Stevie soaking wet and about ready to pitch a tent in his pants, in the strangest moment of his life.
‘Okay,’ just to break the stunning silence, ‘why are you watching porn?’
‘It’s not just for you,’ Jeri challenged him with a cocked brow. ‘Do you mind?’
‘I’m just…’ Words, you stupid asshole! Remember? Move your mouth and make sounds! ‘Juhh… uhh… no, it’s fine…’
3
Stevie made no excuse for himself. If his mother didn’t need one to hang around watching porn and drinking vodka with her tits almost on full show, most likely having been masturbating, then he didn’t need one to go get out of his wet clothes and towel off.
It was no real surprise to him that when he stripped out of his shorts, his cock was almost at full-mast, swaying heavily in front of him and only getting harder. He was stoned, for one, which somehow made it easier for him to get aroused. With the visual stimuli currently on offer downstairs, he didn’t think twice about who specifically had provoked this reaction.
In a fresh pair of lounge shorts and a tank top, Stevie wandered back downstairs — once the swelling had gone down a little — and snuck into the kitchen for a cold carton of orange juice. His mom followed right after.
‘You’re not going to drink all that, are you?’ she asked, almost insinuated. When he turned to her, he was relieved and yet almost sad that she’d tied her robe back together. He didn’t even realise that she’d caught on to his movements and followed his line of sight to what cleavage was left on show. ‘I need some for my vodka…’