The Jumping-Off Point

Writer's Note:

This is a mom/son story. I was inspired by the story that brought me to Literotica for the first time. I'm excited to offer my take on a well-known plot device.

Published February 2021. Enjoy!

*****

"Ahhh! Mmm, yeah. Getting close?"

"No."

"Ha! Yes, you are!" Claire's bright, frisky smile widened, as she watched his flexing neck and reddened face reveal the truth.

Looking down her naked body, she savored the sight of her shaved pussy swallowing his beige shaft again and again. She rhythmically grinded and shifted on the hard cock as memorably as she could. After all, it was the last time either of them would get to feel the other's touch for two months.

"Uhh-ahh! What about you... You getting close?" Daryl's low grunts echoed against the drywall. His eyes were lucid, but he couldn't stop running his gaze up and down the sexy, slender figure dancing on his erection.

Her round, perky breasts with light-pink areolas bobbed up and down after her bouncing body. Daryl loved whenever he felt the warmth and perfect sizing of them in his cupped hands. He was going to miss them.

"Mmm. Don't worry about me. Ahh! Like I said, today's about you."

"I- I- Fuck! Haha." Daryl's attention gravitated to her adorable face. Her white smile popped from her beige skin. The playful curve in her dark-pink lips always made it look like she was hiding a secret he would never know. Her sapphire, deep-set eyes were expressive and probing. "I want you to cum, though. I wanna feel it," Daryl smiled.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah!" Daryl gasped.

Claire sat up taller as she rode in cowgirl position. She flamboyantly swept her long, brown hair over her right shoulder. The silky hair hadn't been sticking to her back; she simply knew how crazy her playing with it drove Daryl. He squirmed and writhed beneath her. What's the matter? Can't handle it?

After all this time, she could still surprise him. His green sheets were stained dark by his seeping sweat. This was their most drawn-out goodbye ever. "You sure wanna feel me cum?" She saw the profuse head nod. "Well... if you insist."

Claire then bit her lip. They both laughed and moaned together. Daryl suddenly winced. The initial pain caused by her rocking back in his lap shocked him. His erect cock was forcefully bent downward into her pussy.

Doggy style, missionary, and chair sex were Daryl's favorites with Claire. But angling his eyes down his chest and abs, Darly noticed the benefit of this new position. His penis was sublimely squeezed and manipulated by her glistening, flowery pussy lips. She fiercely grinded back and forth and side to side like she was controlling a joystick.

"Ahhhh! Ohhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

As the relentless friction from the juicy cockhead centered directly on her g-spot, Claire's eyes rolled to the back of her head. "Fuuuuck," she chuckled. "Ah! You like that?"

"Yeah!" Daryl longed to thrust his hips up and fuck back, but Claire's long legs straddled him and pinned him down to the mattress. Besides, nothing he could do would make the sex more sensational than it already was. "This feels awesome!"

"Mmm-hm-mm! Fuck yeah, it does." Claire's vision drifted into a blur. The pulsating and rubbing against her vaginal walls was ceaseless. She relished having all seven inches inside her as she circulated her hips and butt. Her fingernails traced the skin of his abs and chest. "You fucking knew you were gonna get this today, didn't you?"

Daryl nodded and laughed hoarsely. "Yeah..."

Of course he knew you were gonna fuck his cock! "Mmm. Did you think I was gonna ride you like this?"

"Hell, no." Her tits were within his reach, but Daryl's arms and muscles were paralyzed by the overwhelming pleasure. He looked into her blue, teasing eyes. There was no stopping her. He could only marvel.

Her body was exhausted, but Claire was energized by sexual adrenaline. "What can I say?" She panted in her songful voice. "Yesterday was hot... but, I wanted to make sure you were taken care of before I left."

Daryl meekly smiled. Oxygen was hard to come by. He was dangerously close to finishing, as his muscles twitched. And his cute face was adorably twisted. "Ffff! Uhhh!! I'm gon' cum soon!"

Despite his gritty voice, Claire knew what he said. In an instant, she stopped restraining herself and gave into her desire to fuck the living daylights out of the handsome cock. She let the mushroom head and thick rod shift inside her pussy lips.

"AHHHHHHH!!" Claire stared straight ahead into nothingness. Her entire body tightened. Her bent knees locked in place. Her quads and calves strained. Her elbows pinched into the sides of her body. Biting the inside of her cheeks, Claire did her best to muffle the whines and screams of pleasure attempting to escape her lips.

Her facial expression, however, was not muffled. Claire let Daryl see the euphoria painted on her ecstatic, wide face. She got off further knowing he was witnessing the scene he craved—having an unforgettable image as proof of what he had done to her.

Finally, when her pussy stopped convulsing and her watery eyes opened, a satisfied Claire tipped over and fell forward. Her firm boobs lay on Daryl's chest.

Her vision slowly returned to be greeted by a mesmerized smile. "Fuck." She laughed and kissed his stiff lips. "I'm gonna miss that."

Daryl couldn't respond. He could only helplessly hump his hips and keep fucking in hoped of achieving sweet relief. "Uggggh. Errr!" He growled.

"Mmmmmm," Claire shook her head, which rested on her angled chin. "Don't worry. I didn't forget about you." Keeping her relaxed chest and stomach on Daryl's sweaty body, Claire arched her lower back just enough to softly fuck the flailing cock with her soaking pussy. Her head felt fuzzy while she proudly stared at his squinting eyes.

"Uhh! I wancum-ou."

Claire translated in a raspy voice. "You wanna cum in me...?" She watched his chin nod. "Mmm. Yeah? You promise?"

Daryl nodded again, gripping the sheets, barely hanging on. "Yuh. Ry-yur-fuckn-pussy."

"Right in my fucking pussy...?" She playfully asked. He bucked under her, vainly attempting to pound her harder. He's so fucking close! Claire wanted to tip him over the edge. "Mmm. You know that's my favorite, right? It's so fucking hot." She watched Daryl wince and squeal. "You're so deep, honey. Don't stop fucking me."

The energy built again in Claire's body. She used it to circulate and fuck with her hips, making the dirty-blonde head thrash atop the green pillowcase. "Mmm. Yeah. Did you like how fucking filthy I was riding your cock like that? Ahhh. You knew I was in the mood all day, didn't you? Huh? And you wanted to make me cum one last time. I love how-" Claire's eyes shot open.

She breathed steadily, then silently laughed. "Ahhh. There we go!" she chirped.

Daryl was still off in his own universe, surrounded by blackness. His muscles twitched, and his toes curled under his trembling feet. He yelled, but a firm hand was pushing down on his open mouth and gagging him. All he could do was lay there and pump more jizz deep inside the warm pussy.

In just the last twenty minutes, an entire day of arousal and anxiety had been zealously fucked out of his system. Daryl heaved one last time, and his chest decompressed. Claire's hand left his mouth, allowing him to breathe freely. She trusted him to be quiet while he enjoyed the tingling sensation of his final spurts leaving his tip.

His head flopped sideways onto the moist pillow. Claire gently caressed his face and kissed his cheek. Her wet pussy broke away from his softening penis. And she slid off of the bed to walk to her purse. Using scented wipes, Claire bathed and washed the masculine scents and hormonal moisture from her skin.

The musty smell of their sex hung in the air of the small, double bedroom.

Daryl's consciousness returned. "Wow..." He rolled over.

"Hahaha!" Claire proudly puffed. "Have fun?" She wiggled into her jeans before donning her bra and wrinkled t-shirt.

"Yes. I had a lotta fun." Daryl's chest rose then fell with each exhale.

"Well, good. Me too. Go shower real quick so I can get going."

After a steamy shower, Daryl lumbered out of the bathroom in sweatpants and an old tee. His smile remained, as did Claire's. "Well, I'll definitely get a good night's sleep for class tomorrow."

"Yeah, you better." Claire opened her arms so Daryl could embrace her. She squeezed tightly and lovingly, rocking him side to side. She hated knowing she'd have to let go. "Are you sure you don't need anything else from the store?"

"No, I'm stocked up."

"Are you sure? What about pants? I see your sweatpants had holes in them."

"They're fine, mom," Daryl laughed and hugged her.

"Hey, you know I have to ask," Claire explained. "I'm so proud of you and how well you're doing here."

"Thanks. It was nice being home for a few days."

Dropping her son off at school never got easier— especially when she had to leave her baby at a university two hundred miles away. It felt wrong—against her basic motherly instincts—even if summer break was less than two months away.

Her instincts aside, Claire couldn't be happier to see Daryl managing so well on his own. This was where he was supposed to be at this point in his life. "You're always welcome home, whenever you want. Call at any time."

"I know. I know."

Claire needed to baby him, no matter how annoyed he got. There were fewer precious moments to mother him. She was relieved how their sex never infiltrated these wholesome moments. Yes, their intercourse over the last year was intense, playful, and hot. Each time, it was a beautiful mother-and-son moment. But it was separate.

Claire never wanted to lose the platonic love and all of the caring, doting, disciplinary, bonding, and regular moments that had always been part of their relationship. Fortunately, Daryl felt the same way. From the very beginning, they both found it natural and easy to separate their "sex selves" from their "normal selves". They behaved one way when naked and returned to normal once one of them (usually Claire) was dressed again... Only, they felt closer and more appreciative of each other.

With one final squeeze, Claire let go of Daryl. She draped her purse over her shoulder and turned to him once more with tears in her eyes. "Be smart," she pressed.

"I will."

She pointed. "And remember what I told you last time."

"'Use protection every time, or else'..." Daryl drolled.

Claire scoffed. "You're such a smartass. I love you, though."

"I love you too, mom."

They smiled heartedly at each other, and then Claire left the room. She strode down the dorm wallway, double-checking to make sure there were no suspicious stares. She didn't expect there to be. They had been incredibly careful and quiet as always. But still...

—

"Hey!"

"Wha?" Noah peeked up from his phone. "Oh, hey! Ready to go?"

"Yep," Claire grinned, still misty-eyed.

"He'll be fine! He's home in six-and-a-half weeks." Noah stood up from the bench underneath the gazebo and kissed his wife on the forehead. He could smell the sweet scent of her perfectly-brushed hair.

"I know it's only a few weeks. And he's happy here. Are you done with work, or are you ready to go home?"

Noah stretched and yawned. "Oh, I've been done. Just had to check up on some emails." He scratched his graying stubble. He was casual in khakis and a plaid dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

The husband and wife walked together to their SUV, both having the weird gut feeling that came with leaving their child behind somewhere. "Did his fitted sheet go on easily? Or did it take forever again?"

"Yeah, it's on," Claire chuckled as she buckled her seatbelt. "But now he has to wash it again."

Noah snickered and adjusted the rearview mirror. "Why do I get the feeling he always likes saying goodbye to you more than he likes saying goodbye to me?"

"I don't know." Claire sunk into the passenger seat and yawned. "You gave him a good handshake."

"No, I gave him a great handshake. And a hug."

"You did!" Claire flashed her teeth. "So, why would you think that, then?"

Noah drove out of the lot dryly shaking his head. "It's because I don't have boobs."

"Haha!" Claire rolled. "Nope. Sorry, hun, you don't have 'em. Or a vagina. Or a butt." "Wait-" Claire slapped the dashboard. "Well, you do... Just not-"

"Just not a pretty, round one that our twenty-year-old son wants to touch." The husband and wife laughed together and stopped at a light before the highway. "So, are you hungry?"

"Hell, yes. And I could drink a lake," Claire huffed.

"Alright. Same here. I think there's a Cracker Barrel a few miles ahead."

*****

Home was different without Daryl. This was the second year he was off at school for months at a time, leaving the family only breaks and holidays to reunite.

He was home for weeks in summer and winter, but the time never lasted long enough. Noah missed his favorite hiking buddy. And Claire missed her son—and everything that came with it.

Remembering what life was like before she seduced Daryl was difficult. The sexual part of their relationship felt natural, like it was supposed to happen. Not even two years ago she had wisely seduced her nineteen-year-old son during his winter break of freshman year. Yet, their sex had already transformed Claire's life. She viewed everything differently—motherhood, love, marriage, family, life.

For more than twenty years, Claire had assumed her marriage was perfect and that Noah was her soulmate. She had believed she could never love a man as romantically and eternally as Noah. And his support for the last two years proved her right.

Noah was smart, sexy, and funny. Claire wouldn't change a thing. Daryl didn't serve as a replacement. He was an addition—an athletic, eager, and horny addition. Claire and Daryl didn't make love to share a romantic and spiritual connection. They fucked and banged each other for carnal pleasure. They had indescribable fun while experiencing the rush of the ultimate taboo. Taking her son's young cock and feeling tight body somehow made Claire feel more motherly.

Whenever Daryl was home, Claire was walking on air. She treated herself to the kinkiest-feeling sex every day. Life became a wild dream.

As for Noah, he offered no jealousy, only loyal support. A cuck? No. Noah would never let some other dude sleep with his wife. Claire was his. He also never got off on the idea of her fucking their son or wanted any involvement in their activities. For him, his support was simple:

He loved his wife deeply. She loved him back a frightening amount. And they both loved their son deeply. So, when his wife and son shared sexual urges, it obviously was not a betrayal of him, but rather them desiring a new form of love and affection. Noah had a big heart and was wise enough to see how much happiness it could bring to the family without detracting from his marriage.

Claire was continually amazed by her husband. He was so level-headed, open-minded, and he took life in stride. Even when she admitted that Daryl was an inch bigger, Noah laughed and simply joked how it was unfair because he was two inches taller. Claire told him she could relate. She was five-foot-nine and there were shorter women walking around with bigger boobs.

On the couch in their living room, near a crackling fire, Claire snuggled under the blanket closer to her husband. He was warm and peaceful.

After an emotional day of driving, Claire's mind wandered. A humored smile formed, as she reminded herself of her theory on why Daryl was that one inch bigger. The only incest fantasy that ever gripped Claire was the one she held as a mother, but that didn't stop her from curiously peeking at her dad's crotch in bicycle shorts when she was younger. He was a shorter man, but when she noticed his bulge, Claire thought, Wow, good for him. And good for mom.

Cozily, Claire rested her cheek against her husband's shoulder and reminded herself it was okay to look forward to enjoying the larger size of her son's impressive cock. Hey, Noah jerks off to women with big, fake tits in your Victoria's Secret mags. And that's okay. People get off to different bodies. Doesn't mean they wanna change anything about their partner.

Claire smiled warmly up at her husband. She certainly didn't want to change anything about him. As he finally settled on a TV station, he placed his arm around her. They kissed.

Noah was horny, but he knew to wait. He had just ceded the entire week of Spring Break to his wife and son. He wanted them to have their fun bonding moments. And he could tell in his wife's tired eyes that she was still living a haze.

It was fine. He had no problem waiting till tomorrow. With how aroused his wife had been for the last two years, Noah considered nights like these to be a small price. After all, he was the most regular beneficiary.

"Since when did they reboot MacGyver?" Claire yawned.

"Who knows. I'm still waiting on season two of Firefly."

"Hmmm. Those bastard network execs. I'll write 'em an angry letter for you tomorrow," Claire hummed. She sunk into her husband's shoulder, focused on his hand rubbing her arm, and drifted off to sleep. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow.

*****

"Claire, where do you want the balloons?"

"Hmm? Oh, umm..." Claire swiveled. "You can actually ask Hashni about that. She's kinda the Décor Czar."

Blanche laughed with Claire before walking off to the other side of the community center atrium. Alone again, the mother returned to twist-tying the plastic wrappings over the raffle baskets.

This time it was a pancake breakfast and raffle to raise money for the town's historical society. But no matter the cause or community event, you could bet Claire was involved, either as the leader or a supporting player.

Generous, thoughtful, and free-spirited. After seven years of being a stay-at-home mom and volunteering on weekends, Claire began volunteering for the community full-time. Noah begged her not to get a paying job. He wasn't one of those traditionally prideful men—far from it. He just recognized how fortunate he was to make plenty of money while also loving his work. He wanted his wife to feel just as excited to get up in the morning as he did.

"Honey, you're a natural," he explained. "Just 'cause you're not getting paid doesn't mean your work doesn't count. What you do at the center is probably more important than anything I do. If you take some office job, you're going to hate it. We're far from desperate."

Her husband was right, she was a natural.

"I think we should line all of the baskets up on the table and kind of layer them like this. Harold, can you go get those display shelves out of storage?"

"Yeah! Sure thing, Claire. Need anything else while I'm back there?"

"No. Just the shelves are fine, thank you."

It wasn't lost on Claire (or any of the other women who volunteered). Ever since she went full-time, more husbands and single men had generously decided to donate their time to the community. Claire wasn't worried. All of them were well-behaved and respected her marriage. Eh, they just get all "smiley" whenever they talk to you.

For the handful of male volunteers, this was a good trade. They got to clown around with each other, build shit, and make a difference, all while feeling the presence of their tall, striking neighbor.

Community service was better when taking orders from a competent, gorgeous, and youthful woman who buzzed about the room, coordinating tasks in a blouson dress. She would grin brightly as her turn-up nose crinkled, and sometimes she would question them firmly with her flat cheeks sharpened and flowing eyebrows arched high. It was easy to see why Noah had proposed to her so young.