This time he stopped.
I looked up into his eyes. “If I wasn’t your mother, what?” I asked, trying to look vulnerable and insecure.
“I can’t say it,” he said. “It’s wrong.”
“You can tell me anything,” I said, as I tried not to smile, knowing my plan was working… I was planting a plethora of seeds for my end goal.
“Well, I….” he started but stopped.
“Just say it, Cody,” I demanded. “Act to me like you would to Brittany.”
This made him laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you realize what you just told me?” he asked, his hand still on my leg.
“No,” I said, playing dumb.
“You just told me to treat you like I do my fuck toy,” he said back.
“Oh,” I said, still playing dumb. Yet, my next words made my response seem trivial and probably left him even more baffled. “Well, I guess that would be wrong, wouldn’t it.”
He laughed awkwardly, just as the doorbell rang. “Shoot, that is probably Mike. I invited him over to watch the Dolphins vs Green Bay game.”
I sighed, “Well, we will continue this conversation later. You never did tell me what you would do if I wasn’t your mother.”
He looked into my eyes and answered, the same exact dominant tone his father used to use, “Mom, do you want the truth?”
“I think I can handle the truth,” I joked, looking nervous even as I slightly parodied my husband’s favourite movie.
He looked me directly in the eye and said, just as the doorbell rang a second time, “If you weren’t my mother, I’d make you my three hole cum bucket.”
He then walked away, as my pussy gushed into my panties.
I headed to my room needing to dress a little less slutty for my son’s friend, but first I needed to come.
…..
It was the 21st of December, four days before Christmas, when I came up with my next naughty idea. Cody was at the hardware store where he worked in the summer. And during the holidays
I unwrapped all the candy canes, and began fucking myself with each one for a good minute or two each, when the doorbell rang.
I sighed, still having three to go and getting quite horny doing it.
I went to the door and was not overly surprised to see Jemma standing at my door.
Instantly, I knew what I was going to do.
I opened the door, smiled, and greeted, “Well, if it isn’t the anal cum bucket.”
“May I please come in?” she asked, so much more timid than her usual smug self.
“My son isn’t here,” I said, making her wait longer.
“I came to see you, Elizabeth,” she explained.
“Oh, well come on in, then,” I offered.
She walked in and I asked, “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Are you still hungry?” I asked, as I led her to the kitchen.
“A little, I guess,” she replied, following me.
I returned to the kitchen table where I was sitting, spread my legs and ordered, “In that case, come and get it.”
“Elizabeth!” she gasped, surprised.
“Ass slut,” I retorted back sarcastically.
“I came to talk,” she continued, grimacing at the name calling.
“You can talk once you have gotten me off,” I said, snapping my fingers and pointing to my spread legs and wet pussy.
“Please, Elizabeth,” she pleaded, looking so uncomfortable. I was enjoying this immensely.
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