Just A Cumrag Ch 01

"That's it, I am kicking him out on his ear." my husband said as he walked into the kitchen, about to join me for breakfast before going to work. I could only guess he was referring to our son Malcolm, who had dropped out of college about a year ago and had been unemployed ever since. The fact that he was neither getting some other form of education nor trying very hard to land a job, was bothering my husband Jason boundlessly.

"What did he do now?" I asked, frustrated that he was picking on our boy again.

"You know what I found in the shower just now?" he asked furious.

"What?" I asked, only half interested.

"Sperm." he replied. "A big blob of it running down the shower glass."

Considering how he himself hadn't produced any in, on or around me in many months, I was somewhat surprised that he could identify the substance when he saw it.

"He's 23 years old Jason, and he doesn't have a girlfriend, what do you expect?"

"I expect him to do that in the privacy of his room, or at least clean up behind himself; I don't need to see that in my shower! Apparently it is not enough that we continue to feed, support and cloth him at his age, now he expects us to clean up his... his... cum behind him; I've had enough, I am giving him his two weeks notice!"

"Jason, please; calm yourself." I said, trying to defuse the situation.

"You're defending him?"

"I am not defending anyone; I agree with you, we can't have him going around the house and blowing his cum wherever he wants... without cleaning up after himself." I felt very strongly about adding those last few words. Before Jason could criticize my choice of words, I continued:"Look, I'll have a talk with him as soon as he comes back from jogging, okay?"

"Fine, but make sure he knows that this is his last chance!" he said adamantly. "If I find anymore cum anywhere in this house, he's out!"

After Jason left for work, I kept replaying our conversation in my mind, trying to visualize what he had seen in the shower; I am not afraid to admit that it made me a little horny. About an hour later, Malcolm came home, all sweaty and out of breath from his run. He immediately went upstairs to take another shower; he usually took about two or three of those a day, especially when it was hot like today.

After allowing him sufficient time to shower and get dressed, I went looking for him, figuring he'd probably be playing video games in his room, like most days; my husband was right about one thing: he wasn't trying very hard to find a job. That being said, I found it difficult to be strict with him and I sure as hell wasn't going to let Jason kick him out. Malcolm doesn't have any siblings, so the day he actually does move out, I'll have no one to look after... I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. So, I lie and cover for him with his dad, telling him he's been out looking for jobs when actually he's been hanging around the house all day... it's a mother's love and tolerance I guess!

I knocked and entered his room, finding him laying on the bed with his wireless game controller in both hands, playing some kind of shoot-'m-up game. He acknowledged my presence briefly and then returned his full attention to his game. I strolled around the room, waiting for a pause in his game to talk to him; meanwhile my eyes scanned every inch of the room for more cum stains, but except for some suspicious smears on his dark blue drapes, I couldn't find anything.

"Can I help you with something mom?" he asked about a minute later, after being brutally ambushed and killed in the game.

I sat down on the bed and said:"Dad had another fit this morning, and it was a bad one!"

"What did I do now?" he asked exasperated.

"He found your... cum... running down the shower glass." I said, remembering the exact phrasing Jason had used. Malcolm's look changed immediately as he apparently realized what I was talking about. "I am sorry mom, I must have forgotten to wash it away."

"Don't worry about it." I smiled. "It's no big deal... at least not to me, but your father, well, you know what he's like... he got really angry this time, and he said that he'd better not find any more cum around the house or there'd be hell to pay!"

"Thanks for the warning." he said, staring idly in front of him, apparently giving the whole matter some serious thought. I couldn't help my eyes from glancing over his body; as usual when it was this hot out, his muscular chest was bare and he only had some shorts on. I also caught myself peeking at his crotch, which was bulging, but not too much.

"Did you cum anywhere else that I should know off?" I asked, surprising both myself and him with that question. "What?" he asked perplexed and confused.

"I assume the shower isn't the only place you shoot your cum?"

He turned beet red and whispered, as he looked away:"No."

"Okay then, last time I thoroughly cleaned the house was last Thursday; try to remember where you've dumped a load since then." I said, deliberately using some fouler language than before.

"But moooom..." he whined, embarrassed and visibly uncomfortable.

"Look, I am trying to help you here; do you want your father to stumble upon some more of your gooey cum?" I asked, again deliberately adding the word 'gooey'.

"No." he replied.

"Well then, try to remember where you've whacked out a load since Thursday and I'll go and have a look... you can't be too careful, I think a second set of eyes would be useful, don't you think?" I said. Apparently Malcolm had caught on to my foul language as well as I could see his crotch beginning to expand.

"You might wanna write this down." he stated, indicating that it would be too much to remember.

"Ok." I said, as I reached out for his desk, taking a pad and a pencil – ignoring the fact that my pussy was getting moist.

"Well, let's see..." he said, still hesitant as he looked at me with a pad and paper in hand, my legs crossed. I pretended not to notice the large bulge in his shorts.

"The shower, obviously." he started off.

"My desk." he added.

Although Jason never went into Malcolm's room, I wrote it down anyway.

"My bed."

"The spread or the sheets?" I asked offhand, trying to be as cool about this as I could.

"Both..." he replied. "... and the pillow too."

My cunt contracted as I wrote that down – his own pillow for crying out loud!

"My sock drawer."

"My trash bin."

"That's it for my room, I think."

Good god, I thought to myself – my cunt starting to leak.

"How about the rest of the house?" I asked. "Don't worry, I won't get angry or upset... I just wanna help, okay?" I added, realizing that he was extremely concerned with telling me more.

"Uh... the laundry hamper."

"Okay good." I said, soothing him, as I wrote it down.

"The... the loofah." he stuttered.

"The green one?" I asked, referring to his personal loofah.

"No... uhm, the uhm... pink one." he replied, referring to my loofah.

Although I kept a straight face while writing that down, my lust exploded deep within me, as I realized that he had been using

my

loofah to cum on, the one I used to scrub myself down with; my legs, my tits, even my face on occasions. Realizing that this probably wasn't a one time thing, I asked myself how much of his gooey cum I had rubbed into my skin!

After writing down 'loofah' on the pad, I slid my free – left – hand down to my jeans, unbuttoned and unzipped them and slid my hand into my white panties, as I asked:"Okay, where else?" tapping the pen on the pad.

Malcolm gawked and stared at me – with big eyes and open mouth – as I started masturbating right in front of him. Before he had a chance to raise objections, I tapped the pen on the pad again and asked:"So, the pink loofah... where else?"

"Your underwear drawer." he stated, a lot less anxious than before; his cock now at full attention and noticeably tenting his shorts.

"Any particular pair?" I asked, my fingers going berserk on my clit.

"I usually take a pair off the top, jerk off in them and put 'm back at the bottom of the pile." he said, putting his hand on his crotch, squeezing his thick shaft through the fabric.

"So that your cum has a chance to dry in by the time I actually use that pair..." I said, stating the obvious, as I looked straight at his crotch.

"That way I can't feel your crusty cum against my stupid cunt when I put them on, got it." I said, scribbling down a few words. "Where else?"

The 'stupid cunt' remark seemed to do the trick; he grabbed the hem of his shorts and pushed them down, along with his black briefs, to his knees. His huge erection sprang to view; his big mushroom head pulsating as he wrapped his right hand around his thick shaft and started pumping away boldly and without the slightest reservation.

"Your black knee-high boots... inside of them." he grunted, pumping away.

I had worn them just two days ago, I thought as I continued to masturbate in front of my son, blatantly looking at his massive cock getting stroked.

As he seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, I asked:"That's it?"

"That's it for the second floor." he replied.

I drew a line under the list so far with my right hand, while my left was still furiously attacking my clit, and grunted:"So, first floor then!"

"Hm, let's see..." he began.

"The rug under the dining room table, the table itself, the seat of your chair, the seat of dad's chair, the living room coffee table, the couch, the living room drapes..."

I could hardly keep up with scribbling down all the places he was proudly listing; the combination of him whacking off right in front of me and his flagrant disrespect for just about anything around the house was fueling my lust beyond the point where stimulating just my clit was enough.

"The rest of the list will have to wait!" I interrupted him. I put my pen down, redrew my hand and used both hands to pull down my skirt – briefly shifting from one butt cheek onto the other to accommodate myself. Once my skirt was around my ankles, I did the same for my white cotton panties, exposing my most intimate parts to my perverted son. He started whacking off even faster, grunting and moaning.

Then, I got on my knees on the bed, my legs wide apart so Malcolm could stare between them unhindered, and I could shove a couple of fingers up my twat to give myself the stimulation I craved.

Malcolm stared at me in disbelief, his gaze transfixed on my twat and my fingers; for about thirty seconds we just stared at one another masturbating and fueling each other's lust.

"Better add my head board to the list!" he grunted as he violently flung his legs around and rolled onto his left side, pumping his throbbing cock with his right hand and catapulting a massive load of fresh, syrupy sperm against his head board. About five or six fat ropes splattered against the dark wooden panel, before his climax subsided and the last few drops trickled onto his pillow. When I saw his cum starting to slide down the head board, I quickly jammed a third finger up my soaking wet twat and moaned:"Jesus Christ!" as I felt a first convulsion ripping through my body.

Using the spring force of Malcolm's mattress, I started bouncing up and down on it – not more than a little bit, but it was enough to slam myself onto my fingers with every bounce – amplifying the effect of my fingers at work in my cunt.

Malcolm quickly turned to watch his mother orgasm and scream like a slut.

"Oh yeah, oh fuck yeah!" I screamed, clawing at my insides with my fingertips.

I bucked and rocked for what seemed like an eternity; when I was done, I carefully opened my eyes and saw Malcolm staring at me, a wide grin on his face.

"Did you really cum in all those places?" I asked, catching my breath, shifting around to sit back on my ass.

"I might have added a few for entertainment value, but most of it is pretty accurate."

"Good god Malcolm, that's a months worth of whacking off for a normal person, even an adolescent one!" I panted as I glanced at the list again.

"I am sorry, I usually do clean after myself... the shower this morning must have slipped my mind." he said. "Go and have a look in all those other places, you won't find a single drop of cum anywhere."

"Except for my panties." I smirked.

"Well, yeah." he grinned, slightly embarrassed.

"And the insides of my boots." I added.

"Well, at least nowhere important." he joked.

A shiver ran up my spine and I tweaked my left nipple through my top when he said that; I quickly snapped myself out of it – or my fingers would be in my twat again in no time at all.

"All joking aside." I said. "You can't take anymore risks; from now on, when you need to whack off, you call me, okay?"

"Are you serious? You want me to call you each time I jack off?" he asked surprised.

"Neither of us wants dad to find any more of your cum, now do we?"

"No, but..."

"But what? And don't tell me you're shy!"

"No, it's not that..."

"Then what?"

"What if... want to uh... do it in one of those places?" he asked, pointing at the list.

"Don't worry, I won't cramp your style! You can still blow it anywhere you like, just like before." I said, overplaying the understanding mom card maybe just a little bit.

"Just come and find me, and we'll work it out, okay?" I said.

"Sure." he replied, not totally convinced about our new arrangement.

I took the pad and my skirt and walked out of the room – worried of what else I might say or do if I didn't.

In the privacy of my own bedroom, it took me a few minutes to process what had just happened. Eventually I got dressed and went downstairs in an attempt to focus on some household chores.

I was reading a magazine in the kitchen several hours later, when Malcolm walked in and took a beverage from the fridge, nervously hanging around the kitchen table where I was sitting. I pretended not to notice and forced him to take the initiative.

"Mom?" he whispered. "I'd like to... you know."

"Jack off?" I asked, without looking up from my magazine.

"Yeah."

"And where would you like to shoot your load?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Can I do it anywhere I like?"

"Off course, it's like I told you before; I am not here to cramp your style, I am here to avoid your dad from finding your cum." I said, thinking to myself that if I repeated it often enough, maybe I would start believing it myself.

"Just pretend I am not here if that helps." I added.

"But I... I kinda like the fact that you're watching." he said, taking his cock out of his pants.

"Ok." I said, flipping through a few more pages, alternating my gaze between my magazine and Malcolm, getting on his knees and jacking off right in front of his mother, remarkably shameless.

After several minutes of beating his cock off mercilessly, he whispered:"I am gonna cum... oh fuck, I am cumming."

I quickly turned my head, just in time to see the first cum ropes exploding from his massive cock; for the next fifteen seconds he kept pumping more sperm onto the kitchen floor, until his balls were finally empty. Satisfied, he got up, stuffed his dick back in his pants and started walking towards the paper towels.

"I'll do it." I said, jumping off my chair and walking towards him.

"You sure?" he asked, confused about why I was so anxious to clean up his cum; I figured he'd catch on sooner or later...

"Yeah, that's what I am here for." I said as I squatted down next to his load and started wiping it off the kitchen floor. "Okay cool, thanks mom." he said and headed back upstairs.

In the late afternoon I was sitting on the couch, watching one of my soaps on tv, when Malcolm came back in.

"Dad will be home in about half an hour, so I figured I'd blast one off before he gets here." he said, whipping his half-hard cock out and positioning himself in front of the seat next to me. "Is it okay if I cum right here?" he asked.

"Sure." I said, my eyes glued to the tv-screen.

Well, he'd picked up some extra nerve since noon, I thought to myself. Aside from the occasional, brief glance at his crotch, I kept my eyes on the tv. It took him considerably longer than before, I thought halfway through my soap; almost ten minutes had passed and he was still jacking off, not even a meter away from me. I waited and waited, squeezing my legs together, trying not to give away how horny I was. Finally, after fourteen minutes of stroking his shaft, he shouted:"Here it comes!"

Not two seconds later – I had barely turned my head – his cum started raining down on the brown leather, creating dripping sounds which were driving me crazy. There were no ropes or globs of juice this time, just a seemingly endless torrent of cum drops. When he was done, the whole seat next to me – including the backside – was speckled with his cum; a few drops had even made it onto my jeans. He zipped up and said, as he was already walking out of the room:"You'll clean it up, right?"

"That's what I am here for." I smiled and looked at the tv until he was halfway up the stairs again. Then, I immediately unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand down my panties. As I started drawing circles on my clit with my middle finger, I reflected on the fact that Malcolm was starting to take more liberties with me: even less talking than before, jerking off and cumming well within my personal space and bluntly assuming I'd clean up his sperm... yes, things were definitely progressing in the right direction. He was catching on quickly :-)

I kept playing with myself for a little bit longer – only managing to get myself even more worked up – before using some more paper towels to clean off every drop of cum off the couch.

That same evening, after dinner – barely three hours after his last performance – as I was clearing the table, Malcolm walked up to me in the kitchen. Jason had already gotten comfortable in front of the tv.

"I need to empty my balls." he stated.

"Okay." I replied. "Where?"

"Upstairs somewhere." he whispered, looking at dad sitting on the couch.

"You don't need me there for the whole thing, do you?" I asked.

"I guess not."

"Head on up and start without me; I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"Sure thing mom." he smiled and moved off.

I finished up as soon as possible and told my husband I was going to freshen up a little bit, hurrying up the stairs. First, I looked in his room, then checked the bathroom, but eventually found him in the master bedroom, on his knees in the middle of the bed, jacking off furiously.

"They're new, aren't they?" he said, referring to the chocolate brown sheets he was sitting on.

"Fresh from this morning." I replied truthfully.

"Good." he grunted, switching to a higher gear of jacking off.

God, this was so nasty: Malcolm was now deliberately disrespecting me, testing me. I got soaking wet, thinking of how quickly this little game of mine was evolving, and how it could only get worse from here on out. Before I could consider masturbating along with him, he arched his back and sprayed out his load, deliberately aiming it all over the bed. It wasn't a monster load – not surprising considering the fact that this was his fourth one of the day – but still enough to leave stains and smudges all over the sheets. After wiping his cock off on a clean spot, he got up, pulled up his pants and said:"Have fun cleaning this one up."

He laughed, openly mocking me, as he left the room.

I couldn't control myself after that; I just took off all my clothes, took my favorite vibrator and kneeled down on the bed, amidst my son's cum. I jammed the plastic phallus up my soaking wet twat and started ramming like there was no tomorrow. I needed to get off, nothing else mattered now; not the sheets I was soiling with my juices, not the fact that I was borderline committing incest with Malcolm and certainly not Jason! For the second time that day I climaxed; it wasn't an Earth-shattering orgasm, but it got the job down. After changing the sheets for the second time that day, I took a quick shower and headed off to bed.