Mom, Me and Our Adventures with Spunk: part 4

Daydreaming, I snatched my stiff cock from my Mother’s hand and held it in front of her surprised face as the spunk began to flow.

“Take that, Mom!” I moaned out loud as the first visceral stream of juice blasted out from my cock and landed in a long icky strand just above her right eye, across the bridge of her nose and over her parted lips before dripping off the end of her chin. More followed with Mom squeaking as I coated her blushing cheeks with more hot fresh jizz until she was covered with frothy gloop.

“Henry Peterson!” she gasped as she knelt there with her eyes firmly shut, “What are you doing?!”

I was running out of stuff so I rubbed the head of my thing all over her spunk soaked face making it shine and glisten disgustingly in the low light of my bedroom. Sexually intoxicated, I bounced my knob end on her cum splattered forehead enjoying the way she stuck out her tongue to chase the rivers of sperm running down over her cheeks and chin.

“You bad, bad boy,” Mom scolded me as she reached up and massaged my spend into her skin before she enthusiastically sucked her fingers clean, “What are we going to do next, sweetie?” she asked as she played with her awesome tits.

Even after the last spunk salvo, I could feel myself already getting ready for another round with Mom. “What do you wanna do, you cum slut?” I asked her. In our ever-expanding shared vocabulary, “Slut” was one of those words that flicked the switch for my Mother. Mom was right. It’s not what you say but the way you say it. Shakespeare 101 as she put it.

“Oh, I don’t know, dear,” she stretched erotically as she settled in beside me on my bed cleaning my jizz off her face with a wet wipe, “It’s been such a long time since any man came knocking at my door,” she sighed. Leaning over, she put her lips to my left ear, “Do you want me to give you my number?” she breathed as she shrugged her shoulders and slipped off her yellow bra to leave her nearly naked with only a matching pair of panties to cover her trimmed modesty.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. All my senses were working overtime as I let her push me back so that she could kiss her way downstairs to my growing banana. Hell yeah. Time to pound some serious Mommy pussy like the good Son I was.

“Are you with us, Mr. Peterson?”

Fuck that pussy, dude. Fuck it real good. Mommy pussies are the best pussies in the whole wide world and that is a fact. Just get between those firm thighs of hers and shove that big dick right the way up her slot. This was the absolute best way to relieve those big aching balls of yours.

“Mister Peterson.”

“What?” I blinked as real-life gatecrashed my imagined party which faded frustratingly away just as I was about to mount my Mom.

Miss Buford, late 50’s, grey hair in a bun with sensible clothes was sat on the edge of her desk in front of the class smiling at me. “Wherever you are, I’m sure you won’t find the answer to my question there. Perhaps you should concentrate on the here and now if you please.”

Mom had disappeared into the ether as she so often did these past few days as I sat up in my chair and picked up my Maths book to hide behind. “Uh, yeah, sorry,” I mumbled as I slid back down so that only the top half of my red face was visible. Shape up, Peterson. Don’t give everyone the impression you’re the loser they probably already think you are. I glanced up at the clock on the wall; half an hour till the end of class and an hour till my appointment at the surgery with Doctor Meadows and her sexy spectacles.

“Good,” said the teacher as she looked around at the other students, “Let’s continue shall we as Mr. Peterson keeps digging that hole he wants to hide in.”

Funny. The woman had no idea how right she was. But as I shriveled up like a salted slug behind my book, I didn’t notice the girl sat two rows in front of me glance over her shoulder to stare at my pathetic attempts to disappear with an amused expression on her gorgeous face.

Mom was right. Sometimes it’s not who you are or what you look like that matters. It’s about something much more than that. Something called the whims and attractions of fate.

***

Those two spunktastic weeks passed by in the blink of an eye despite my best efforts to make them last forever. Masturbating with Mom had really been something else. Each time with her had given me enough memories to sustain my immature libido for months, if not years, to come. It sucked major donkey dick that all good things really do come to an end.

That end being my follow-up appointment with the Doc. “So, Henry,” smiled Doctor Meadows as she took the sheet of paper Mom handed to her, “How’s life?”

I gave a shrug. “Alright. Okay.”

Mom was with me as she had come straight from work despite me telling her that morning as she jacked me off for the last time that I was more than capable of seeing the Doctor on my own.

We were both sat together in front of her desk watching as she read the numbers Mom had written down after each of our masturbating sessions. Now and again, her eyebrows would rise in apparent surprise as she considered our results. “Well, Henry,” she began as she put the sheet down in front of her, “You are most definitely an impressive young man it has to be said. No wonder your testicles ached all the time. The amount of sperm you are producing is definitely at the high end of the scale. Did you have any problems collecting your samples?”

I quickly shook my head. “No, Ma ‘am. No problems at all. Nope. Absolutely not.”

Mom was sat bolt upright with her handbag in her lap. “Everything went smoothly, Doctor,” she nodded in agreement as she put on her best poker face, “I made quite sure Henry did what he had to do.”

Doctor Meadows looked at the results again. “So over the two week period, his minimum daily output was three times and his maximum was,” She traced a finger across the dates, “Six times?”

Oh, that day. Now that had been a day to remember. Mom shuffled in her chair as I sat there blushing like an idiot. Yeah, six times. Six hand jobs in one day. For whatever reason, I had been supercharged that day and would have fucked a rubber duck just to get off. Besides an early morning quickie and a pre-dinner splash and dash, four more times Mom had to sort me out from early evening to nearly midnight.

“AGAIN?” she had spluttered in amazement as I wandered downstairs to find her sat in her favorite armchair reading a book under the circular light from a table lamp. Don’t blame me. What’s a horny son of a bitch supposed to do when nature comes calling?

So, yeah, I was a regular stud muffin that day. “Uh, I guess when you’ve got to go you’ve just got to go,” I replied lamely as she looked at me a little bemused.

Mom sat forward and got straight to the point as she always did. One thing about my Mom was that there was no screwing around. “Did the blood and urine tests find anything wrong with him, Doctor?” she asked with a frown on her face.

Doctor Meadows removed her spectacles and looked between us. “Actually, Mrs. Peterson, they have. The good news is it’s nothing serious so you don’t have to worry yourself about it but it is a condition I’ve only come across very rarely in all my years as a practitioner. Henry has something that requires a very specific and unusual kind of treatment.”

Mom looked blankly at Doctor Meadows. “What sort of treatment?”

“Sex,” replied the Doctor matter of factly, “And lot’s of it.”

Uh oh.

***

Once again, Mom was sat gripping the steering wheel as the lights changed to red and we slowed to a stop as the late afternoon sunshine flared through the windscreen. Like last time, the journey back home from the Surgery had been mostly in silence as I sat there in the passenger seat wondering if life was screwing me around deliberately.

“That’s the most RIDICULOUS thing I’ve ever heard,” she exclaimed suddenly making me jump, “This has to be some sort of joke!”

Yeah. As far as possible things wrong with me this one was a complete doozy. Not so much the problem but what I had to do to fix it. Fix as in manage as there was no real cure for what I had according to the Doctor. Honest to God, I thought Mom was going to blow a gasket when the Doc explained the reasons for her diagnosis based on the results of my tests,

Even my ball sack was surprised.

The lights changed and we headed for home as I sat there wondering what the heck was going to happen next. Now that those two weeks were over, being masturbated by Mom was, I presumed, a thing of the past which was a major bummer. And now I had this to deal with. It never rains but it pours and, boy, it sure as fuck was pissing down on my parade right now.

Mom pulled into the drive watching as I undid my seatbelt and reached to open the car door. “How can you do something like that when you don’t even have a girlfriend?” she said out loud as she fiddled with her own belt and exited the car with a little squeak of annoyance at my lack of a sexual partner.