I hurried to my room, my need to pee replaced with my need to come.
I grabbed my rabbit from the side table, turned it on high and on my favourite pulsations, pulled my pajamas and panties down and slid it inside my wanton cunt.
I closed my eyes and imagined that I was my son’s slut. I imagined him face fucking me; I imagined his cock slamming into my pussy; I imagined his dick gaping my asshole; I imagined being his unconditional fuck toy… his cum bucket.
I came quickly and as I lay there in the afterglow of self-pleasure, I pondered how I could possibly replace his cum bucket.
…..
It was December and I had decided his Christmas present was going to be a live-in cum bucket… me!
I also wanted to test a few assumptions. The first being if he had a stocking fetish like his father. And if he did, which I assumed he did, did he also have a stocking-foot fetish like his father. James loved lengthy nylon foot jobs and could come just from that and often did. He loved watching sports while I gave him long nylon-clad foot jobs. In these scenarios he either came on my feet and had me lick the cum off my feet (I wondered if I could still do that now) or he would have me finish him with my mouth before usually coating my face with his cum. He also loved to have me keep his cum on my face.
That made me recall our honeymoon, when he shot his load all over my face in the hotel before dinner and had me keep it on me while we went out for dinner. He then shot a second load on me in the bathroom of the restaurant before we went out dancing. A final load was shot back in the hotel room and I answered the door for room service in lingerie and a face completely coated with cum. Such humiliation only enhanced my desire for complete submission.
God, I missed that.
And now, maybe, I could have it again.
The next morning, well early Saturday afternoon actually, when he came downstairs, I was purposely still in my robe, but with thigh high stockings. I was pretending to read the newspaper, my stocking-clad feet up on the table, the robe riding up high enough that he could definitely see the top of my lace top stockings.
Cody walked in and stopped dead in his tracks. There was no doubt he was staring at my legs. I pretended I didn’t notice he was there as I feigned reading the newspaper. I even began to slowly move my left foot over my right leg seductively, as if dealing with an itch.
Although I knew he was in the room, he didn’t move. I wished I could have seen his face, but I wanted to act as innocent as possible. I wanted to start the tease. I wanted him to get the idea that his mother was a sexual being. I wanted to slowly plant the seed that his mother would make a great ‘cum bucket’.
It didn’t last long, maybe thirty seconds, before I decided the tease was enough and moved the paper down and, being an actress in high school went into full actress mode, as I said startled, “Oh, God, you scared me! I didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”
“Morning, Mom,” he said, breaking his eye contact from my legs and looking at me.