“How many is some?” I asked.
“How many men have you had?” he rebutted.
“Touché,” I laughed, “some secrets are best kept as secrets. But you eat pussy only sometimes?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I’ve found some women are rather submissive by nature, and those ones usually just want to be…” he paused, unsure whether to swear in front of me.
“Fucked like the sluts they are?” I finished for him.
“Yeah,” he said, still a little bewildered by my bluntness and foul language.
“And to be called names like slut, whore and cum bucket?” I listed.
“Yeah,” he repeated, now overwhelmed by this entire conversation. How many mothers bring up cum buckets to their sons?
“Yes, many women who are prim and proper at work, especially in high stress jobs like teachers, lawyers, doctors and nurses, want to come home and just let someone else take charge,” I explained, giving an obvious hint that I was one of those women.
“Nurses?” he pounced, catching my hint.
“Yes,” I nodded. “A nurse’s days are often a series of high stress encounters, sometimes life and death ones, where every decision must be made not only quickly, but also with wisdom and confidence. It can be very exhausting. So once they’re home, they often feel they want to shut down that responsible side and just let someone else take over.”
“That makes sense,” he said, probably understanding the power he had over some of his MILFs… I assumed Abby wasn’t his only one.
“The challenge for a young man like you is to be able to read when a woman wants to be made sweet love to and when she wants to get fucked and be treated like a slut,” I said.
“I see,” he said, as his head was going a mile a minute with all the information I was giving him.
“Of course,” I said, standing up, wanting to leave him horny as hell and hopefully with a lot to think about, “having a big cock and lots of stamina are also major pluses.”
I then added, “I need to take a shower.” I paused, looking directly at the tent in his pants as I concluded, “a very, very cold shower.”
I didn’t take a cold shower… I took a warm shower where I used my multi-speed showerhead for multi-purposes.
Two orgasms.
As I did, I wondered why I hadn’t just fished out his cock and devoured it whole.
Why I hadn’t parted my legs wider and let him see the glistening pussy that was dying for his attention.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I was going to wash away any doubts still lingering in him.
Tomorrow.
…..
We had a wedding the next weekend, so in the morning I went shopping. I ended up buying three dresses, planning to return two of them, as well as a garter-belt and stocking set. I also picked up the suit he’d taken in to get dry cleaned.
I got home around two, and Jason was obviously freshly showered, since his hair was wet.
I asked, “How long you been up?”
“An hour,” he said, gazing down at my nylon-clad feet.
“Can you do me a favour?” I asked.
“Anything,” he said.
“Can you help me choose which dress I should wear to Sarah’s wedding?”
“Sure.”
“Cool,” I said. “I’ll call you once I’m ready.”
“Sure,” he repeated.
“You’re a great son,” I said.