MILFs — Part 1

MILFs – PART 1

Mona Wendell sat in the passenger seat of her Acura sedan, sneaking clandestine peeks at her 17-year-old son, Mark. Her friend Constance and her older sister Betty chattered in the back seat. They were on their way to a health spa in the mountains near the town they all lived in, where they planned to stay the week. Mark was working as a lifeguard at the spa, and had suggested to his mother that she and the others might enjoy some time there, just relaxing, swimming, and getting various beauty treatments. He had been able to get them a discount rate on lodging in the small log cabin complex where he was staying.

Mona was thirty-eight and divorced. She had thrown her ex-husband, Mark Sr., out of the house two years before, after discovering that he was having an affair with a co-worker in his office. She had not had a serious relationship with anyone since the divorce — she just hadn’t found anyone yet that really interested her, certainly not enough to sleep with them. And yet, she was still attractive to men, she knew, often turning their heads on the street. She was tall and voluptuous, with short, curly black hair, big 38D breasts that still didn’t sag too much, considering their size, and a shapely, round ass.

Constance suddenly addressed Mona in the front seat. “So, Mona, where have you been hiding this fine, handsome specimen of a man? It seems like only yesterday he was this high!” she said, raising her hand just above the seat. Constance knew Mark well, having been his piano teacher for several years until he quit at age thirteen. She was younger than Mona and Betty, in her mid-thirties, and had two young children, who were spending several weeks of the Summer with her divorced husband. A willowy, attractive woman with flaming red hair, Constance was a born flirt. Beneath her playfulness, though, she managed always to exude a smoldering sexuality.

“He has grown up, hasn’t he?” said Mona, looking admiringly at her son.

“I’ll bet he’s grown up in more ways than one!” said Constance, laughing.

Betty, sitting next to her, giggled. “Constance, you’re terrible! You’ll embarrass the poor boy!” Betty was 40 years old, two years older than Mona. Built shorter and a little more solidly than Mona, she nevertheless had her sister’s big breasts and full, round ass. She liked to say that she was “built for comfort, not speed”. Her husband was off on the latest in a long series of fishing trips with his buddies, so she was free to do as she pleased this week. He couldn’t have cared less how she spent her time anyway, having long since lost any sexual interest in her after she gave birth to their only child.

“Oh, I think he can take it,” said Constance, grinning at Mark wickedly. “Can’t you, Mark?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mark, smiling and glancing at his mother.

“You see? And sooo polite!” she giggled. “How old are you now, Mark?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ll turn eighteen tomorrow,” answered Mark.

“See there, Mona, he’s practically an adult!” said Constance. “You better watch out, Mark, spending a whole week alone with three sex-starved old ladies. And on your birthday, too.”

“Constance!!” said Mona, blushing. Constance was her best friend, but the younger woman had a wild side that sometimes embarrassed the more straight-laced Mona.

“Oh, relax, Mona, I’ll bet he knows a lot more about sex than you think,” said Constance, reaching forward and squeezing Mark’s shoulder. “Don’t you, Mark?”

“It’s okay, mom,” said Mark, grinning, feeling his cock growing in his shorts. “I know a few things, Constance.” He was actually enjoying the somewhat risque banter, and he liked the idea that Constance still found him handsome. She had always been flirtatious with him, even when he was twelve years old and taking piano from her, and she had been the subject of many of his earliest sexual fantasies. He glanced up at the rear view mirror, and saw Constance gazing steadily back at him. Her eyes held his for a long moment, until he finally looked away to keep from driving off the road.

Mona turned her head and gazed at Mark, her thoughts turning to an event of a few weeks before, one that had been preying on her mind ever since. She had come home from shopping, dropped her bags on the couch, and gone of in search of Mark to find out if he wanted to go out to dinner with her. Finally concluding that he was probably in his room, she had walked up to the door and found it slightly ajar. Normally respectful of her son’s privacy, she had been about to knock when she heard a muffled groan. Peeking through the narrow opening, here eyes widened with shock, her breath catching in her throat. On the bed, naked, was her son. His back was against the headboard, supported by a pillow. He held a magazine with his left hand, and the fingers of his right were wrapped tightly around the thick shaft of his rigid teenage cock!

She started to leave, but her curiosity held her back. She knew, of course, that her son masturbated. All boys did. But she had never witnessed it, and hadn’t seen him naked in many years. Now her eyes were drawn to his cock, so much bigger now, and glistening with the baby oil he had spread on its engorged length. She watched, fascinated, as he slowly stroked it, not in a hurry, blissfully unaware that his mother was watching him. His slippery fingers slid up over the sensitive, spongy crown, then back down, as he slowly turned the pages of the magazine.

Despite her guilt at spying on her son, Mona felt a sudden surge of warm wetness between her legs. She had simply never thought of her son in sexual terms, never thought of him as having an adult cock. Now, suddenly, watching him slowly jerk off, she didn’t see him as her son, but as a man, a man with a cock, and who knew what it was for. She felt her nipples stiffen beneath the material of her thin sundress, and her hand crept, almost unconsciously, downward. She pressed her fingers against her mound, rubbing herself gently through the material of her dress, biting her lower lip and stifling a sigh as she felt the currents of pleasure swirl through her body.

At that moment, Mark’s fingers tightened around the thick shaft of his penis, and his fingers drew slowly up against the head. He groaned aloud as a thick rope of semen surged upward, erupting from the tip, then cascading back down and splattering over his fingers as they continued to stroke his flourishing cock. Again and again it pulsed, and she watched, fascinated, as he pumped out spurt after spurt of hot come, splattering his hands and his flat stomach. Mona unconsciously slid her tongue out and traced her parted lips with it as she watched.

As his orgasm waned, Mona’s embarrassment and guilt suddenly returned, and she eased away from the door. But the image of her son’s wildly spurting cock was indelibly seared into her brain. She crept back down the stairs, her heart pounding. Gathering her wits, she opened and closed the front door, and then called out to Mark that she was home.

All through dinner that evening, she had been unable to get her mind off of what she had seen, although she tried hard to make sure her face didn’t betray anything to Mark. That night, when Mark was in the shower, she quietly entered his room and searched quickly for the magazine, finally finding it hidden under some clothes in the bottom drawer of his dresser. Its title was “MILF”, and on the cover was a picture of a woman with her lips wrapped tightly around the erect penis of a much younger man. She was not familiar with the term, but as she leafed through the glossy magazine, she discovered, with a sudden shock, the answer to the puzzle. The acronym stood for “Mothers I’d Love to Fuck”. Mona stared at the pictures and the captions, her mind racing, her knees weak. Her son was having sexual fantasies about older women! Perhaps even about his own mother! She heard the shower turn off, and she quickly stuffed the magazine back in its hiding place, leaving the room before Mark came out of the bathroom.

That night, lying in her bed in her nightgown, the image of his beautiful cock had returned vividly. Was it possible? Did Mark actually masturbate thinking of having sex with her? Did he imagine that it was her mouth around his cock, or that it was buried deep inside her yearning vagina? Did he see HER face as he eagerly pumped out his pent-up load of hot, thick come?

As her mind swirled with these thoughts, she drew her legs up, and her hands eased down between them. She pulled up her gown and her fingers slid into the folds of her pussy. She was sopping wet, aroused beyond belief. Slowly, she caressed herself, moaning softly. I can’t be doing this, she thought. I can’t be thinking this way. He’s my son! And yet, she couldn’t banish the image of Mark between her legs, of his cock thrusting into her pussy, which had not known a man’s lust-hardened cock for so long!

“God help me!” she groaned as her fingers slid inside her vaginal opening, moving in and out slowly as her hips thrust against her unseen lover.