Gretchen tiptoed down the hallway. Pastor Mike had been in talking to her son Tommy for a good half hour. She had to know what they were saying.
Although she had not attended church since moving out of her parents' house almost 18 years ago, her recent problems with her son had brought her old pastor to mind. When she was a fractious teen, Pastor Mike was the 'cool preacher' that she and her friends could all talk to, confide in, or merely hang out with when their parents got to be too much. He was young, hip, played the guitar, and never was too heavy on the 'God stuff. '
On a whim, Gretchen had looked up his number and given him a call. She had been mildly surprised to find him still there, and by the fact that he remembered her straight away. After a few minutes of polite back-and-forth catching up, he asked what prompted her call.
"It's my son. I'm having a bit of trouble, um, controlling him," she said guardedly.
"And you'd like me to speak to him?"
Truthfully, she hadn't thought that far ahead. "Well, I'm not sure," she answered doubtfully. "He's a. . .
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difficult boy. "
"Uh-huh. Teenager?"
"Yes, he'll be 18 in three weeks. "
"That's a difficult age all right. What's your address?"
"You want to come over right now?" Gretchen asked, surprised.
"No time like the present," he'd chirped cheerfully.
A half hour later she was sitting on her living room couch with Tommy in the chair to her right and Pastor Mike in the chair to her left. The cool young preacher was now a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and laugh lines around the eyes, somewhat smaller than she remembered him, but he still had the quick wit and laid-back attitude that made him so popular in Gretchen's youth.
At first she'd been terrified about how Tommy was going to react, and she'd braced herself for the worst. But, shockingly, he'd been the perfect young gentleman: polite, attentive, respectful, even friendly. After 18 minutes of chit-chat, he even invited Pastor Mike to his room to show him his model train collection after they'd discovered a mutual interest.
Pastor Mike had readily agreed, patting Gretchen reassuringly on the shoulder as he got up to follow the teen. "It'll give us a chance for a little one-on-one time. Guy talk," he said softly to her with a conspiratorial wink.
But they'd been in there with the door closed too damn long.
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She shuddered to think what Tommy might be confessing to the clergyman. What the hell had she been thinking, calling him out of the blue? She had visions of cops pounding on her door and hauling her off to jail. With dread gripping her insides, she put her ear to the door.
". . . and His mother Mary is the second most revered person in Christendom after Jesus himself," she heard Pastor Mike saying. "So, yes, the Mother is sacred. It even says in the Ten Commandments, Honor thy Father and thy Mother, so cut your mom a little slack, hmm?"
Gretchen felt a huge relief. Bless you, Pastor Mike! she cheered in her mind as she heard Tommy responding.
"Yeah, I'll try," he said dubiously. "But she really gets on my nerves sometimes. "
"Well, when she does, just take a deep breath and recite the prayer," Pastor Mike answered.
"Okay, let me see if I have it again. "
She heard a chuckle from Pastor Mike, a strange sound she couldn't identify, then Tommy reciting: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
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. . mmmm. . . what's next?"
A pause, then Pastor Mike: "Blessed art thou *mmmph*"
"Oh yeah!" Tommy interrupted. "Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. . . . Oh yeah, go deep. . . " Then more of the strange noise.
What the hell? Gretchen knitted her brow in confusion.
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Before she even realized it, she was turning the knob and silently opening the door. The sight that greeted her almost gave her a stroke on the spot.
Pastor Mike was on his knees in front of Tommy. Tommy's pants were around his ankles. He had both hands on Pastor Mike's graying head as the older man sucked Tommy's cock like it held the stuff of Salvation itself. The strange sound she couldn't identify turned out to be the slurping of his lips as he expertly deep-throated Tommy's 6+ inches without a hint of difficulty.
He sucks dick better than you do, her stunned mind said to her.
"Again," he paused to mumble around the head of Tommy's penis.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus," Tommy dutifully recited.
"Mm-hmm," the cocksucker hummed approvingly.
"Careful, Paster Mike, here she cums!"
Gretchen looked up to find her son looking straight at her, a mocking smile spread across his face. At first she thought he was warning Pastor Mike of her presence, but then his eyes rolled back and he grunted ecstatically, and she realized he was announcing the arrival of his nut.
Pastor Mike locked his lips behind the ridge of the head of the teenager's pulsing organ and jacked the shaft with his hand in a smooth, practiced motion. Gretchen could see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he greedily swallowed Tommy's load.
Gretchen was completely at a loss.
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What was she to do? Call the police, and probably end up in jail right alongside the molester? Throw a screaming fit and come to the defense of her baby boy? He certainly didn't look like he needed defending, and from recent experience, she strongly suspected he was the instigator himself at any rate.
Tommy looked back at her, grinning triumphantly, as if to say 'what else you got?' He raised his arms straight out to both sides and let his head hang in a mocking caricature of Jesus on the cross as the preacher milked every precious drop.
Holy fuck I'm raising the AntiChrist, she thought as she slowly and silently backed away and closed the door. The last thing she heard was Tommy declaring, "Amen!"
After Pastor Mike had gone, promising to come again(pun intended?), Gretchen had gone off to the gym for an intense workout and a good long think. As she punished her body, she pondered the problem she had created by sleeping with her young son. She had created a sex maniac, by all appearances, and there seemed to be no way back. After all, you cannot put the toothpaste back in the tube, or in this case, the semen back in the penis.
Finally the only solution she could come up with: make it work for you. She went home with the beginnings of a plan in her head. First step: test the efficacy of her stratagem.
It was time to start dinner when she arrived back home. Tommy greeted her arrival with an insolent grin, all but daring her to bring up the incident with the preacher. Instead, she greeted him sweetly and asked what he wanted for supper. That in itself threw him a bit, and he tried to get a rise out of her by requesting the same meal as last night: steak and fries. He knew she hated to have the same thing two nights in a row, but she merely smiled pleasantly and went off to the kitchen.
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When she called him to the table and put his plate before him, he gave it a disgusted look. Along with his steak and fries, she'd served him up a generous helping of steamed broccoli. He wrinkled his nose with distaste.
"I hate broccoli!"
"You've never tried broccoli," she corrected mildly. She gently guided him to his chair, letting her palms rub over his chest as she bent over him and whispered into his ear, "you might just like it. "
He gave her a puzzled look as she slid into her own seat. "I don't like it," he reiterated, picking up his spoon and pushing the vegetable to the edge of his plate so it couldn't contaminate his precious steak and fries.
Gretchen shrugged nonchalantly, as if she didn't care either way. She watched him dig in like the hungry wolf that was a teenaged boy. She went straight for her own broccoli, making appreciative sounds like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Tommy kept glancing askance at her, wondering what she was up to. When her modest portion was finished, she leaned closer to him and speared a small piece off his plate with her own fork.
"Well I might as well eat yours," she murmurred breathily as her other hand went under the table to rest lightly on his upper thigh. "If you don't want it?"
"Go ahead," he answered suspiciously.
She leaned back, removing her hand from his leg.
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She slowly raised the morsel to her mouth and let her pink tongue dart out to receive it, pleased to note that his eyes followed it all the way. She chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, then leaned forward to spear another. Once again her hand went to his thigh, even higher. This time she even gave a little squeeze as she looked him seductively in the eye.
"Sure you don't want any?"
He frowned at the offered bite and shook his head. Gretchen sighed wistfully, let go of his leg and sat back. Once again she brought it to her mouth and consumed it with exaggerated delectation. As she leaned in for a third piece, her hand under the table fell directly onto his crotch, pleased to find an immense bulge straining the fabric.
"Last chance," she whispered throatily. When he offered no response save to stare at her like he'd never seen her before in his life, she sighed sadly, letting her disappointment show on her face as she began to sit back.
"What if I do?" he croaked at the last instant.
Gretchen let her eyes light up and leaned back in, her hand returning to the bulge in his pants. For a moment she only stared into his eyes as she let her fingers under the table toy with the tiny handle on his zipper. "I think you'd like it," she answered at last, unzipping his pants a fraction of an inch.
Tommy opened his mouth.
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Gretchen moved her fork toward him, unzipping his fly at the same time. As he took the broccoli with his teeth, she worked the opening of his boxers until his cock sprang free. She wrapped her slender fingers around it, and as he began to chew, she began to stroke.
Gretchen smiled, watching her son like the proud parent of a baby taking its first bites. It was working! For the first time since he was out of diapers she was getting him to eat his broccoli! But he was no baby--his cock was long and hard and leaking pre-cum as she jacked him off under the table, continuing to feed him bites of broccoli.
When his helping was about half gone, he didn't open his mouth for the next bite. She could tell by the clenching of his jaw and the stiffness of his body that he was about to cum, so she stopped stroking. He gave her such a pleading look, she might have given in, but this was part of her plan.
"Sorry, honey, but you can't finish," she gave his straining prick a little jiggle, "until you finish," she nodded toward his plate.
For a moment, she could see that he was about to pitch a fit, but she literally had him in the palm of her hand. A strategic stroke of her hand and an arched eyebrow was all it took. With an angry growl, he picked up his own fork and began shoveling broccoli into his mouth like a starving man.
"Don't choke yourself!" Gretchen laughed.
Tommy wolfed down the last bite, dropped his fork noisily onto his plate, sat back and gripped the edge of the table. Gretchen resumed the handjob with a satisfied smile.
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She jerked his cock as rapidly as she could and brought him off in less than a minute. When he was done shooting his spunk on the underside of the table--wasn't that going to be an interesting clean-up--she sat back and daintily licked her fingers clean, watching her son's huge sigh of relief turn to a gasp of surprise when he saw what she was doing.
Then it was his turn to surprise her. "What if I want seconds?"
Gretchen considered him for a long moment, then drawled, "I suppose if you finish another helping, I could come up with a little something. . . special, for dessert. "
"What kind of dessert?"
"Pussy," Gretchen answered with a straight face.
Tommy's eyes went wide, then an eager grin spread across his face. He picked up his plate and held it out to her. "More, please. "
Gretchen took the proffered plate, rose and carried it to the kitchen. She put the remainder of the steamed broccoli on the plate. It turned out to be an even bigger portion than she'd originally given him. Oh well, might as well see just how much he wanted that dessert.
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She hadn't intended for this to go beyond the handjob stage, but fuck, the feel of that hard cock and the taste of his cum had her horny as hell.
She had by no means quenched the thirst of that year and a half dry spell she'd gone through. If she was actually going to do this--control her difficult son with sex--why should she deny herself while doing it? In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound!
Still, this was a lot of broccoli. What if he balked now? Perhaps she should throw in a little extra incentive. . .
A minute later, when she came through the kitchen door carrying his plate, she was naked as a jaybird. Tommy's eyes nearly popped out of his head as she boldly marched up to him. She held the plate high, stepped over his lap to straddle his chair while facing him with her bare pussy close enough that he surely had to be smelling her lust, then sat on the table. She scooted back, spread her legs, and placed the plate on the table between her thighs.
She leaned back, putting her hands flat on the table behind her to show him her snatch. She was dripping wet already and her pink labia stood parted, glistening and begging for attention. "Finish that and you can have this. "
Tommy stared wide-eyed directly into her vagina. Never averting his gaze, he fumbled for his fork and began to eat.
In two minutes flat his plate was clean.
"Good boy!" Gretchen took the plate and moved it out of the way. She slid forward then laid back on her elbows and brought her heels up to rest on the table's edge. She let her knees fall outward, opening herself up before her son's eager eyes.
"Dig in," she invited.
Tommy hesitated only a moment before leaning forward and taking an experimental lick of her wide-open pussy. Apparently the taste was to his liking because soon he was lapping up her seeping juices like a thirsty hound. After a while, he backed off and brought his hand up to probe with a forefinger.
Gretchen watched her son's face, thrilling not only to the physical pleasure of his touch, but also his awestruck fascination at exploring his first vagina. She gasped softly as his finger slid smoothly up her slippery canal. It wiggled inside her, exploring the snug confines of her love-pocket.
"Mmm, baby," she purred. She reached down and fingered her stiff clit. "Lick me here while you do that. Yeah, right there.
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. . "
She laid back on the table, closing her eyes and reveling in the sensation. She put her hands on her titties, squeezing the small mounds of pliant flesh and pinching the erect nipples roughly as he continued to finger and lick her burning cunt. Soon she was writhing passionately on the tabletop, moaning and panting with the need for release. For ten to fifteen mindless minutes she was maddeningly close, but just couldn't quite get there under Tommy's inexperienced ministrations.
Finally, she raised her head. "Is your cock hard?" she inquired breathlessly.
Tommy looked up from between her legs, chin shiny with pussy juice. "Uh-huh," he grunted.
"Get your pants off!" she commanded hoarsely.
Tommy scooted his chair back and fairly leapt to his feet. By the time Gretchen had climbed off the table to stand before him, he had kicked his sneakers off and was stepping out of his jeans and boxers. He raised his arms as she pulled his shirt over his head.
She grabbed his rock-hard cock, squeezing it approvingly.
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One good thing about fucking a teenager, she thought, no trouble getting a hardon. She stroked it as she embraced him and covered his mouth with hers. He smelled like cunt and broccoli. She would have giggled if she hadn't been so desperately aflame with need.
After a brief but feverish bit of Frenching, she shoved him back into his chair and straddled his lap, immediately spearing her burning pussy onto his lovely young bone. She guided his hands to her ass, grabbed each side of the chair-back that stuck up above his shoulders, and began to hump with the abandon of the crazy horny bitch that she had become.
This was what she had needed! The experiment was over and a resounding success. And time enough later to teach him to eat pussy like a pro. Now was time to fill her cunt with cock and fuck! And fuck him she did, riding his rampant dick so frenetically that the chair creaked and groaned, walking its way across the floor until it smacked against the wall. And then, finally, she was cumming, screaming and cumming, clutching her son's head to her heaving chest and cumming and cumming and cumming!
When the transcendent orgasm finally subsided, she was spent, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. But poor Tommy was far from done. He began to fidget and squirm, trying to move his cock inside her, his need now seemingly as great as hers had been moments ago. So she dragged herself to her feet, took him by the hand, and led him back to the table. Turning her back to him, she bent over, letting her top half collapse onto the cool surface. She spread her legs to a comfortable stance, letting the table support her.
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"Finish," she said.
She closed her eyes as she felt him scramble up behind her. It took him several fumbling tries to get his cock inside her, but she offered no help. When he finally did get it in, he grabbed her by the hips and began fucking her as frenziedly as she had him. She rode it out, hands holding on to each side of the table as she was rocked violently by his wild thrusts. Ten long minutes later, she had another orgasm, cumming quietly and without fanfare, merely letting it happen. A short time after that Tommy got his, crying out and filling her satiated vagina with his load.
Gretchen levered herself up off the table and turned to her son. She gave him a lingering kiss on the lips, patted his cheek lovingly, and said, "I'm going for a shower. Clean up, will you, sweetie?"
"Sure, Mom," Tommy answered happily.
As she tiredly padded naked from the room, Gretchen sighed contentedly. "Not so difficult," she murmurred. .
