Becoming Sharon Ch 04

[Author's note: Well well well. I did not see that one coming. Did you, Gentle Reader? Any writer, well, any storyteller, will tell you that one of the great treats of what we do is having characters do the unexpected. Now I'm fascinated and wondering just how far "Mom's" transition will go. So, let's be that fly, buzz in, and hang on the wall, shall we? It looks to me like "Mom" has been completely subsumed by Sharon, and any porn addict who enjoys big women will tell you that Curvy Sharon is a very naughty girl indeed.]

"Oh, Son," she said in that breathy Sharon voice, "you left me unfinished."

She smiled at me, a cute, kind of sneaky smile.

"You seemed pretty finished to me," I said.

"That was good, Honey," she said, "but I didn't, you know, really

cum

."

"But I've seen you watching me before," she said. "You didn't know that, did you?"

"No," I said, but I knew where this one was going.

"You stay right there, Son," she said.

There was that word again. She "bustled" out, all jiggly hips and ass. She was back in a minute and handed me a beer before bustling out again.

This time, when she came back into the room, yes, "bustling," she ignored me. And I recognized the video.

Jesus, with the blonde hair she

was

Sharon. She was still in the shiny green blouse and the black skirt. But there was something different. I could see her moving, almost frantic, searching for the television remote. She pushed the button and I heard a news station's talking head, well, talking.

"No," she almost whimpered, "where is it."

She was breathing rapidly, her voice was breathy, and she was saying, over and over, "Where is it? Where is it?"

I had seen the video. Hell, I had watched it enough times I even knew its title. This was

Fantasy Fuck

brought to life.

She was dancing from foot to foot like a little girl who needed to go to the bathroom as she worked the remote. "Where is it?" she said and pushed buttons frantically, "God, I'm too late."

She was carefully ignoring me, her attention completely on the television and the remote.

"Oh, God, I missed it," she was saying, almost in tears she was so frantic.

Then, suddenly, her face relaxed.

The television volume was low but I heard the driving beat and a man's voice calling out numbers.

And Sharon's face took on a look that can only be called bliss.

"That's right," she was saying as her fingers worked at the buttons of the shiny green blouse. I noticed her fingers were trembling so badly she was having trouble with the buttons but I made no effort to help. This was, after all, her show.

She didn't take the blouse off after she had the buttons unbuttoned. She pulled it open, putting big tits on display but left the sleeves buttoned.

"Oh yeah, baby, move like that," she said, her eyes fixed on the television as her fingers pulled up her skirt. I could see black panties and black thigh-high nylons.

And then I realized I could hear the soft buzzing sound of a vibrator. Her fingers were busy, under the elastic waistband of her panties, and she was starting to squirm, her legs scissoring slowly.

"Oh, YES," she cried and stood, pushing the panties past her ass before collapsing back onto the chair.

She scooted forward so she could spread her legs wider and I could see the big flesh-colored dildo that was in her pussy and, as I watched she pulled the wire of the controller she held in her hand and a little silver egg stretched her a little more before popping out and hanging there from the wire.

"Oh yeah, oh, Baby, like that," she was saying, her voice almost droning, a prayer or a chant. And her fingers were pressing the little buzzing silver egg to her clitoris.

That dildo was SO realistic I expected to see a human being attached to it. She was masturbating with it. The balls hung loose and there were tufts of hair peeking out.

Now her hand was down there and she was pumping it in and out. She reached for the controller and the pitch of the buzzing got higher as the little vibrator sped up. Her voice got higher along with it.

"Yes, oh, God, baby, yes," she was sort of whining.

I went off-script then. In the video, she finished and was saying things like, "Oh, that was a good one," as the screen faded to black.

But I wanted to participate.

So I got up and took a couple of steps toward her.

"Mom!!!" I said, trying for shock and surprise in my voice, "What are you doing?"

She froze, her eyes going big.

And she started

ad libbing

.

"Son!! What are you doing home?? I thought you had class," she said, only her mouth moving.

"Mom," I repeated, moving closer so I stood over her, thinking, in one of those weird

non sequiturs

my mind does sometimes, that I should "loom over" her for impact, "What? Are. You. Doing?" I carefully enunciated each word.

"Oh, Son," she said, eyes still big, still not moving, and surprising me as a blush spread from her face down, "I have needs, and since your father left..........." and she let it trail off.

"What needs?" I asked. I was WAY off script here. In her videos, Curvy Sharon is usually in control. But it seemed to be working so I pushed ahead.

"Oh, honey," she said, blushing, "Something a mommy shouldn't say to her son."

I moved behind her then and laid my hands on her shoulders.

"What needs?" I asked again, my mouth close to her ear, my voice as low and breathy as I could make it, and my hands slowly moved down to cup her breasts.

"Honey," she said, her voice a high-pitched whine, "Please don't make me say it."

"What? Needs?" I asked once more, my thumbs and forefingers rolling her nipples and enjoying the feel of her areolas tightening as I did it.

"I NEED COCK!" she yelled. "OKAY! MOMMY NEEDS A BIG COCK STUCK IN HER PUSSY SOMETIMES! OKAY!!?? THERE!! I said it. Are you happy?!"

I ran my hand down her belly and covered hers where she held that big, oh-so-real-looking dildo inside.

"Take what you need, Mom," I said, "It's okay. I understand."

"Son?!" she asked.

My hand was back to her breast, rolling both of her nipples now, and my lips were brushing her ear. I traced the shell of her ear before I went on.

"It's okay," I breathed into her ear.

"Oh, God," she moaned, but her hand started moving and her eyes went back to the television where some Chris Hemsworth wannabe was running a gaggle of 40-something women through their exercise routine.

"That's right, Baby," she said, not to me but to the Mighty Thor on the television, "just like that."

Her hands were moving now, her right pumping that dildo in and out in slow strokes while her left held the little buzzing silver egg against herself.

"That's right, Mom," I said, "Enjoy your body."

She was talking almost constantly now. Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say she was babbling almost constantly now. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her hips were rocking. And her womanscent was strong in the air.

I was hard when I brushed the big wingback chair as I leaned forward to play with her big tits.

"Yeah, baby," she whispered and her rhythm changed. Rather than rocking now, her hips were starting to buck, thrusting against the dildo so its rubber scrotum hit her ass with an audible slapping sound.

"Easy now," I said softly into her ear making her jump a little. I think she had forgotten I was there.

She froze.

"No, Mom," I said, "don't stop."

She started working the dildo again.

"But don't you dare cum until I tell you to," I said, tugging her nipples like I was milking her.

"Faster now," I said, "but watch your control."

"Son," she said, her voice a soft breathy sound.

"Easy," I said, "we're going to take you several levels past where you've ever been."

"Son," she said again in that almost inaudible voice.

"Shhhhhhhh," I said, my voice as low as hers, "Keep filling your pussy like you need to."

"Please," she whimpered, her hips bucking hard enough to make the chair bounce a little.

"Not yet," I said, pulling harder on her nipples, "Control, Mom, control."

"Oh God," she moaned.

Thor was done tormenting his matrons and some well-preserved grandmother was going through yoga routines on the television. She was busty, her nipples showing as hard points on the leotard she wore, and she was moving from impossible pose to impossible pose in a slow, smooth series. This was clearly

very

advanced yoga.

Mom grunted and I pinched her nipple hard enough to draw a yell and to break the orgasm that had almost been completed.

"CONTROL," I said.

She moaned.

"Don't stop," I said and her hand got busy again.

"Faster," I said.

Her entire body was bucking now, each thrust of the dildo making her cry out.

"WAIT!" I said.

"SON!" she cried.

I felt her body pass the point of no return.

"GO!" I yelled.

She screamed, well, she tried to scream. All that came out was an almost soundless gasp.

When my hands clamped on her tits, deliberately hurting her, crushing them, she tried to get away but I had the leverage.

Her legs were kicking and I could hear her release spattering on the floor almost sounding like she had lost bladder control.

"AGAIN!" I yelled.

She grunted and yelled and threw back her head, trying to twist away from what I was doing to her tits but she didn't stop working that dildo.

"Again," I said.

But she couldn't. She collapsed.

She was completely limp, like a sleeping cat. But rather than purring, she was moaning softly.

"Good girl," I said, releasing her breasts.

She let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"Oh, God," she breathed and started to pull the dildo out.

"No," I said, covering her hand with mine, "Leave it in."

"Gonna stretch mommy out?" she asked with a little giggle.

I chuckled and said, "You're plenty stretched, Sharon, but I want you to be happy." I leaned over, gave her an upside-down kiss, and said, "And you seem happy right now."

"Not just because I have this big cock in me," she said, pulling me down for another upside-down kiss, "Mostly because I have you in my life."

"You do know just the right things to say," I said, chuckling.

I stayed like that, lightly playing with her tits while covering her face with soft upside-down kisses.

"Okay," I said, straightening and moving around to offer my hand, "panties up. We're going to get something to eat."

Her eyes got big and then she smiled.

"You want me to leave it in, don't you, pervert," she said.

"Yep," I said, "I wouldn't want you to suffer a hollow feeling."

She laughed, that soft throaty laugh of hers, and said, "No, wouldn't want that."

I watched as she pulled her panties up, the full granny panties she preferred ("I spent most of my life trying to keep my panties out of the crack of my ass," she told me once, "why would I wear a thong?") and then reached down, adjusting the dildo before giving a final tug to the waistband, holding everything together.

"Bra?" she asked.

"You're kidding, right," I said as I started buttoning the shiny green blouse.

"Pervert," she said again.

"Slut," I replied, "And please, at least run a brush through your hair."

She giggled at that, kissed me quickly, and headed for the other room.

She was walking a little funny.

I liked it.

We ate at the local Denny's, just a mile or so from the house in one of those shopping centers. I think we both enjoyed casual conversation over our breakfasts (served 24 hours a day the menu promised) knowing what was inside her.

Our conversation was an odd mixture, as it always was. It was part boyfriend/girlfriend, or maybe even husband/wife. Boyfriend and girlfriend talked of the Elvis impersonator that would be at

Ron's Place

, a local Club. Husband and wife talked about that dripping faucet that I just HAD to get to with me promising, solemnly, to take care of it. Mother and son involved her telling me I needed a haircut and then licking her finger, reaching across the table, and smoothing an eyebrow.

We laughed a lot in that easy way of a couple comfortable with each other.

Before the food came she excused herself and went to the bathroom. As I started on my Breakfast Bowl I realized why.

I heard a little buzzing sound and realized her little Silver Bullet was busy again. I wondered where it was. I figured it would be fun to find out later.

She was grinning as she forked hashbrowns into her mouth.

We were past the point of hurrying. We finished our breakfast, taking our time. We talked and no, I won't bore you with that dialogue. If you've ever had a casual meal at a chain restaurant with someone you know well, you've had that conversation. It was about nothing but about everything as well. But you don't care what I think about Ukraine or how her Bunko game went and the dirty little secret she learned about one of the Bunko girls.

Well, maybe you do about that last.

She swallowed and took a drink of coffee, looked around dramatically, the look of a spy in an old B movie checking for watchers, and leaned across the table.

"Do you know Cheryl Atkins?" she asked, giggling a little.

I had to think. I had met most of the group she played Bunko with every Wednesday, but only casually.

"Hmmmm," I said, "Light brown hair, not bad looking," I held my hand out, "yay high," and I held my hands with arms outstretched, "hips about yay wide?"

She giggled.

"That's her," she said.

"Wellllllllllllllll," she said and did that dramatic look-around-the-room thing again, "she's PREGNANT!"

I had to think about that.

"A bit long in the tooth for that, isn't she?" I said.

She giggled and said, "She's MY age, youngster."

"So, a bit long in the tooth, isn't she?" I repeated and she slapped my arm.

"That's not the good part," she said in a stage whisper.

"Oh?" I said, curious now.

"She thinks it might be a Black baby," she said, all wide eyes and whispering.

"Oh," I said again.

"Marge is going to take her to have the baby's genetics tested next Monday," she went on, obviously loving sharing this bit of gossip.

"And?" I asked.

"She doesn't know what she'll do if it is," she said. "She's strongly anti-abortion but she's afraid Jim will kick her out when if he sees a Black baby in the delivery room."

She got the giggles then.

"That's not something you can hide," she managed before she broke down in gales of laughter, loud enough that other patrons looked.

I held up my hand and said, loud enough for those other customers to hear, "It wasn't THAT funny, Honey."

Her laughter turned into a gasp as the little silver bullet did its job and she caught her breath sharply.

I didn't hurry. Just finished my breakfast, grinning at her.

She caught her breath and took a bite.

"God, I love you," she said, a little breathlessly.

"And I love you, Sluterella," I said and she laughed out some eggs she had been chewing.

"Although you are a bit of a slob sometimes," I added, carefully brushing the egg detritus off of my shirt.

We finished then in companionable silence, comfortable enough with each other that we didn't need to fill dead air with meaningless talk.

Her womanscent filled the air, and I was surprised that it didn't draw any looks or comments.

At the cashier's stand, as I paid and told the hostess that breakfast has been "delicious," I heard a sharp intake of breath and saw that she was cumming again.

"If you don't fuck me soon," she said, all Sharon now, I wondered if there was any of Mom left, "I'm going to start selling my ass."

She had both hands on my arm in that way women do to claim their man as she spoke.

"Wellllllllll," I said, smiling and opening the car door for her, "we could do both. Would you like to be a whore?"

She was giggling as I walked around and got under the steering wheel.

"Damn," I said as I got in the car.

"What?" she asked.

I laughed and said, "It smells like you're in heat."

She laughed and said, "Well then, it smells right."

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Sharon," I said.

She laughed softly, settled back, and closed her eyes.

And I watched, from the corner of my eye, as her hand slipped down and she started playing with the little silver bullet again. It buzzed pleasantly all the way home.

"Come on, Son," she said, her breathing a little rapid in her excitement as she took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom.

"Please," she said as she unbuttoned her blouse. Well, as she tried to unbutton her blouse. Her fingers were trembling and the buttons were giving her trouble so I stepped forward and did it for her.

When I had it unbuttoned I did not undo the sleeves. Instead, I pulled it down across her back, pinning her arms, and leaving those big beautiful tits out. So I played with them, lifting and sucking and kissing while she squirmed and made those soft little mewing sounds I enjoyed.

I unbuttoned the sleeves, let the blouse drop, unbuttoned and unzipped the skirt, and let it join the blouse, and then just looked. She was in her heels and panties, the bulge of the dildo showing clearly.

"Christ, you are SO sexy," I said.

She giggled, did that thing only a woman can pull off, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of the panties and then wiggling like Betty Boop as she slowly pushed them down.

When she reached for the dildo I held up my forefinger waving it back and forth, the universal symbol for "nuh-uh."

She giggled and stood straight and proud, her legs slightly parted, the dildo looking real as it hung just a little.

"Up on the bed, Sharon," I said, "on all fours. Your favorite position."

She did as I told her and I just stopped, captivated. Christ, with that big ass up like that and the dildo showing, the rubber balls nestled against her labia she looked like some crazy woman.

I liked it.

Her natural lubricant was running, explaining the strong womanscent in the air. It was thick and white and I had a thought.

"I don't think we need any

K-Y Jelly

tonight," I said, as I unbuttoned my shirt, tossed it aside, kicked off my loafers, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pushed them down along with my shots, and crawled up on the bed behind her, not even bothering to take my socks off.

"I like it, but it hurts if I'm dry," she said, looking over her shoulder at me.

"Who said anything about 'dry?'" I asked reaching up and slowly pulling the dildo free. I drug it through the thick white natural lubricant that was flowing from her and then touched the little balloon knot of her anus with it.

"Oh," she said with a sharp intake of breath before she laid her face on the pillow and reached back to spread her cheeks.

There was resistance as I started applying pressure, it

was

a big dildo. Not huge, but, well, say my cock at about 150 percent scale.

"Relax," I said.

She giggled and said, "I am."

I pushed harder and the glans finally penetrated.

I pulled it out, dragged it through where she was flowing so freely, and put it in, deeper this time.

I repeated that a half dozen times until she could accept the full length of the dildo easily and then slipped the dildo back into her pussy as I moved to mount her and take her anally.

If I knew anything about Sharon from the videos I had watched, I knew she enjoyed a good double penetration.

And she did this time in real life.

As I entered anally, watching, fascinated as I always did, as my cock slowly disappeared into her, she sighed a soft, satisfied sound.

"That's right, Son," she said very softly, "you know what Mom needs."

I took it slow, pulling out very slowly, and easing in very slowly. After about the third stroke my cock was streaked brown.

Neither of us minded.

She came almost instantly and I pressed against her, keeping those hard vaginal contractions from pushing the dildo out.