1
Well, they say that every story has a beginning, middle, and end, and not necessarily always in that order. So, famous last words; I knew what I signed up for when I put my knickers on this morning. It seemed a good idea at the time. I have only myself to blame...
And I would do it all over again!
Apart from the five times I had to visit the office bathroom morning alone that Thursday morning. In case you missed it, my boy, my man, my lover, my son Steven, had vigorously pumped his mother's pussy full of cum before 8AM had reared its ugly head.
We hadn't had sex in maybe a week before our impulsive little half-hour lovemaking session. During his final feverish strokes I had felt him expand and throb, I had felt him pulsate inside of me in that most exciting telltale way that signifies his masculine sexual release, and I had counted nine times...
Nine generously big spurts, as my vulva twitched and throbbed in loving synchronicity with his long thick penis, as we came together, as I drank him dry of his delicious hot seed. I could feel it fill me up, making me feel like I was melting on the inside. I lived to accept his DNA back into me, to embrace the man I had made on a particulate level.
I knew there was a lot of cum swimming around deep inside me, but my god I didn't imagine just how much until maybe my third visit to the bathroom. By that point I was sneaking my handbag off with me.
I needed my wet-wipes to try to make the stains disappear, and to wipe up the excess still seeping out of me. The gusset of my knickers looked like lumpy cake icing strained through a sieve. Oh but whenever I rubbed up against myself to get rid of it, I was becoming ever tempted to keep going, teasing my swollen labia and clit hood through the thin wet material.
I had managed to hold off, not to make a beast of myself, for the most part, though I didn't know whether to feel disturbed at how ramped up my libido was that morning, or to be impressed by it.
From the moment I arrived at my desk, my office neighbour Barbara was commenting that I looked flushed, worked up. Tight-lipped, I had negotiated no reason for suspicion. Gradually my increased bathroom visits had given her the impression that I might have been coming down with something.
So I went with that, and why not? It was convenient. And it was amusing to no end that I had her unwitting but unreserved sympathy for the abuse my cunt had taken that morning. It had been easy to keep a straight face until eleven, when I received a message from Elaine, asking if I minded that she join Steven at his new writer's club.
'Get to know him better by all means,' I had replied. I would later discover that Steven had told Elaine about his new thing, that Elaine had talked to him about her own thing (her sizeable collection of sex fantasies on Literotica, some inspired by me), and that this had led to them messaging back and forth more, using the craft itself as their excuse.
Frankly I was beginning to anticipate the evolution of this connection that they had now established as I passed time contentedly in the background. It was nothing short of arousing to think that I had these two secret lovers, and that they now had the chance to develop a flirtatious rapport all of their own. I could just imagine the chemistry.
'Also I was thinking, what if I cooked you both dinner? Nothing planned, just enjoying each other's company. Am I overthinking?'
'That sounds great,' I typed back to offer her my encouragement. 'Depends what you're overthinking though. Are you two sexting yet?'
'NO! LOL'
