Helping Mom Out With My Cock

I’m generally a nice guy.

I liked to help people whenever I can, with the skills I had at my disposal.

At twenty-two years of age, I wouldn’t say I was in a position to make a big difference in anyone’s life, but I did what I could.

Dad had taught me from a young age, how to fix things. In a sense, I was an unlicensed mechanic, repairman, tiler and even a football coach. His motto was to fucking get things sorted yourself.

And naturally, word got around the neighbourhood.

I didn’t mind helping my neighbours, especially those who helped my family when things were rough. Dad passed away suddenly when he was changing a light bulb in the bathroom. He just keeled over and died. The doctors said it was a heart attack. I didn’t think anyone one in the family got over the tragedy. Especially mom.

She spent all that energy raising me and my younger bro, who was a dickhead. Mom had to be both parental figures for us, and that left very little time for herself. Couldn’t say I wasn’t moved by her.

The worst thing was, she was a milf. Mom was a long haired, busty brunette who spent most of her time worrying about us, she was blissfully unaware of guys looking at her.

I had always kept an eye on her. I mean, I wasn’t the psycho possessive son, I think. Either way, I think at some point, I started catching those lustful feelings for her. She was just hot, you know?

I was alway happy to hang out with mom. Sometimes, she’d drink and she’d ask me if she was beautiful. I think it was because she kept telling me how much I looked like dad. And maybe she missed him. I didn’t regret it, but on one such moment, I shared a kiss with mom. It was the best feeling in my life, I even copped a feel of her breasts. I jerked off like a nutter and the next day, mom acted like she had no memory of it all.

When our lips touched, she was like a woman possessed. So moaned into my mouth and grabbed me, or I grabbed her- it wasn’t very clear, we were both stupidly drunk.

Anyways, the point was, I never got so turned on by a kiss before.

Then came the slow and steady wooing.

We exchanged text messages, the odd phone call. Nothing spicy, just checking in on her when I was out working and generally making her feel good about herself and actually giving a damn.

Sometimes, she would almost venture into flirty territory, but never too deep. She always talked about how worried she was about Darran.

Darran, he was my moody younger brother, and a total loser. He seemed like he fell into that stupid teen emo phase and couldn’t quite get out of it. It wouldn’t surprise me if he blamed his mom for how dark and tormented he was.

I was in the middle of a landscaping job, when I got a text off her to ask me if I could come over and do some bits and bobs around her house. I had already moved into my own space by then. I started up my own handyman business and felt bad for using mom’s house as a tool shed.

Naturally, I said yes, so I arranged to come home on the weekend.

I loaded my van up with tools I thought I’d needed and drove over.

I knocked on the front door, and mom greeted me with a bear hug. I always loved the feeling of her boobs pressing against me.

“Have you been eating, Joel? You look like you lost weight,” she said, cupping my cheek.

“I’m fine.”

I tried not to ogle, but fuck me, mom was wearing a tight vest top and even tighter yoga pants. Usually, she wore quite conservative clothes, like sweaters and cardigans. I hoped that was a hint of some sort.

“Thanks for coming over,” she said.

“No problem,” I replied, holding up my tool bag. “What do you need done?”

“I’d like a shelf to be put up in my bedroom. I’d do it myself, but I don’t know how to install it, whether the walls are hollow or solid or if that matters.”

“Yeah, you need to find the studs or make sure you got special rawlplugs.”

“Umm…”

I smiled. “I’ll get it done.”

“There’s also my bed. I think it might be broke.”

I did my best not to plug in an innuendo in there. “We’ll get things done, one at a time.”

We walked past the living room, where to my heart’s disappointment, Darran was there.

“Joel is here to help with some DIY, do you think you can give us a hand?”

Darran made the barest of effort to even turn his head to face us. “I’m busy.”

“That’s a DVD isn’t it? I’d be so grateful if you helped. You can go back to it after.”

It didn’t take much to rile him up. He jumped off the sofa and shouted, “God, I hate you Mom, you’re always in my face!” and stormed upstairs to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

I’m not fixing that little fucker’s door.