Mom, Me and Our Adventures with Spunk. 1

Sometimes being a slightly porky, nerd culture obsessed dork with specs, tight curly brown hair, blue eyes and a shy, awkward disposition has its perks..

Big boobed blonde babe Binky Brewster was the hottest girl in class and every horny mongrel and panting pip squeak lusted and drooled over the very ground she walked on. Sex had a name and she sat two rows in front of me flaunting her sizzling sexuality like the temptress she truly was. To bang that tight little snatch of hers was at the top of every male student’s bucket list at Dingleberry High and probably most of the teachers too come to think of it – both male and female.

Which was kind of weird because right now the divine Binky was sliding and slithering that sloppy golden pussy of hers up and down my stiff dick like she was heading for home in the Kentucky Derby. Suffice to say, I was in fuckboy heaven and enjoying the ride immensely.

“Oooooo, Henry!!” she squealed in that lispy high pitched squeak of hers as she bottomed out and wriggled her ass enthusiastically against my heated crotch, “Squeeze my titties too!!” she urged as I reached up and grabbed her huge melons that had me deliriously dizzy as they bounced around on her sweaty chest like hyperactive balloons.

Her brown nipples were as thick and hard as doorstops and she yelped as I rubbed my thumbs roughly over them again and again. My eager hands kneaded and squeezed her abundant marshmallows that had her warm flesh oozing out between my fingers as she dropped forward so I could suckle each rosebud until my heart’s content.

Down in her hot sloppy crotch pot, I could feel the firm muscles of her wet pussy undulating up and down my stiff pecker as I felt the swollen purple head throbbing against the opening of her deepest secrets. My huge chunky cock was stuffed so far up her pussy I could hear the bells going ding-a-ling-a-ling in her head as she squealed loudly as she climaxed again and again. Fuck me, she was tight. Tight as a drum. Tight as a whistle. My long schlong throbbing dong had fucked the virginity right out of her and no mistake. “Christ,” I gasped, “Wait until I toss you over you horny little bitch and ram my raging boner up that sassy little asshole of yours. You”ll be climbing the walls begging for mercy by the time I’m finished with you!!”

She looked glorious with the late afternoon sun flickering through the partially closed blinds as we fucked like Mr &Mrs Rabbit on my single squeaky bed. This may be one small insignificant step for banging pussy but it was a huge fucking leap for yours truly, Henry Peterson aged 18 and a bit. Move over James. T. Kirk. I had literally gone where no man had gone before and it was TOTALLY AWESOME!!

“Oooh, Henry!” Binky gasped again as she tweaked her hard abused nipples and squeezed her sore boobs that made her shudder through another orgasm that soaked my straining nut sack with her boiling oil, “I just love that beeg cock of yours up my tight poosy, thweetie!!”

“Why thank you very much,” I replied smugly as I enthusiastically bounced her up and down making my fat tingling dong slither and slide inside her gripping hole, “Ready for a belly full of spunk, Babe?” I teased as I felt the old jungle juice bubbling nicely in the pot like a well-cooked stew.

“Ooooo yeth please, you beeg STUD!” she squealed as I fucked my whambamthankyoumam harder and harder up into her distended beaver. So hard that she was bouncing around on top of me like a demented ragdoll as the bed creaked and groaned under us.

This was Rock and Roll sex. Fucking like it was going out of business. I could feel my asshole tightening up as the rocket slid into the chute ready for lift-off. “You got it, Baby. Any second now I’m about to fill your tight little pussy right up with grade A premium four-star straight from the pump,” I promised her with my cock pounding away like a jackhammer on speed. Nearly there, I grunted to myself. This was going to be a big one. My balls felt swollen and huge. Obscenely inflated like a pair of spunk filled grapefruits just ready to blow little Miss. Brewster’s pretty head off. Boy, was she in for a surprise when she realized how much stuff I was shooting deep inside her cute little belly.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Hang on to your hats. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. Here it comes as I felt that familiar rush of release as my balls locked and loaded ready to fire my first volley of creamy hot thick sperm into her.

“HENRY!!”

WOOoooo Hooooo! I was in that pre-ejaculation moment grinning like a loon as I tried to make that wonderful feeling of release last as long as possible. It took a couple of seconds to realize something was wrong.

Huh?

Still dreaming of the delectable Binky, I blinked and opened my eyes as I lay there stark naked sweating like a penguin in a sauna on my bed. What the fuck was that? Was that someone calling my name? It sounded just like..

I raised my head slightly from the pillow and looked down to where I was still jerking my painfully swollen dick this way and that as I tried to pop one out up over my bare belly and chest. Above me, in the panting sexual funk of my wanton mind, my fading dream girl was still smiling down at me as she bounced up and down on my straining member promising me I was the only man for her and that we would fuck like bunnies from now until forever.

I was nearly there. Just a couple of tugs more and…

“HENRY!!!”

My eyes popped wide open and I froze with fear. No, no, no! Not NOW. Are you fucking kidding me?! Holy fucking shitballs. MOM?!

What was she doing home? Hadn’t she gone to Grandma’s for the day? Covered in sweat, I glanced wide-eyed at my bedside clock. What the heck? She wasn’t due back for at least another hour or so. More than enough time for me to strangle the turkey again to help ease that pesky ache in my nuts that had been bothering me for a week now. An ache that would only go away if I emptied the old coconuts at least three times a day.

Suddenly, I heard the familiar THUD THUD THUD of someone coming up the stairs and I started to freak the fuck out just as my spunk slithered up my rock hard pipe.

Oh, fuck a duck, Dude. ABORT. ABORT. ABORT. Abandon fucking ship. Reverse the polarity of the neutron flow and all that stuff.

Groaning in frustration as I wriggled around like a beached whale, I tried to sit up wondering what the fuck I was going to do. NO FUCKING WAY could I let my Mom see me tossing off Captain Beefstick just as he fired a load of the white stuff all over my bare chest and stomach.

So I did the only thing I could think of and rolled completely off the bed to my left and landed face down with a muffled THUMP and “Ooof!” so that my sorry naked ass was hidden from view just as the door flew open and in walked Mom in her Sunday best.

“Henry,” she called as she looked around the room, “Where are you?!”

I lay flat on the floor as I slithered into my boxers and grabbed my black ACDC t-shirt. Not wanting her to come any closer, I stuck up my left hand and waved it around like I was hailing a fucking cab. “I’m here, Mom,” I gasped out loud trying to catch my breath as I was still dizzy from my orgasm.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she stood there with hands on hips staring at me with a frown, “Have you had anything for your tea?”

“Uh no,” I replied with a croak as I wriggled into my shirt, “I’ve uh just been sorting out my comics and magazines,” I managed to raise my head and sheepishly peeked at her over the crumpled duvet, “Hi,” I said with my flushed face blushing like an overripe prune.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown, “You haven’t been causing trouble have you?”

I shook my head. “No, Ma’am.”

She gave me another look before glancing suspiciously around my bombsite of a bedroom. That seemed to satisfy her. “Okay then,” she nodded, “I’m going to rustle up something for us to eat. Finish whatever it was you were doing, get cleaned up, and then come downstairs when you’re ready. Don’t make me come back up to get you do you hear me?”

I nodded like an eager puppy and watched as she left the room. Once she had gone, I collapsed onto the floor with relief and rolled onto my back. Holy shit, that had been way too close for comfort. Idiot. I took a long slow deep breath as my heart thundered away in my chest. What was the number one rule of masturbation again? Yeah, dipshit. Never ever get caught jerking the gherkin by your own Mother. That would be the absolutely WORST thing ever.

Staggering to my feet, I turned to look at my reflection in the wardrobe mirror and winced. Seriously. What the fuck do you look like, dude. I was as white as a sheet and still shaking with nervous relief. It was then I felt the squishy gloop inside my shorts and closed my eyes in embarrassed disgust.

Terrific. This was just great. My crotch was completely soaked and I could feel my thick creamy spend oozing around my wilting dick and empty ball sack. I slapped my forehead with the palm of my right hand wondering how I could have been so stupidly careless. You utter asshole, Peterson.

Making a face, I carefully grabbed the front elastic of my boxers between finger and thumb and stretched it out so I could see the mess for myself. Whoa. Look at that. I frowned at the state I was in. Oh, good grief, GROSS. But the spunky mess down below wasn’t the thing that was bothering me. Nope. Apart from the dull ache, the amount of spunk I was shooting was getting ridiculous. For the past week or so I had gone from filling a decently sized teaspoon to easily topping off one of Mom’s three-inch whiskey glasses with each load.

Muttering to myself, I grabbed a clean pair of shorts and waddled to the bathroom like an arthritic duck to clean myself up so I could go down and get something to eat.

Maybe there really was something wrong with me. Maybe puberty was working overtime and had screwed around with my hormones or something. No way was the amount of spunk I was shooting normal even though it made my orgasms last so much longer. But I knew I couldn’t go on like this.

In the past week, I had been jerking off at least three times a day just to get some sort of relief. I was exhausted and spent half my time walking around in a weird sort of dazed happy funk after each illicit wanking session. Even sitting in class had become uncomfortable especially with you-know-who sat a couple of rows in front of me. I shut the bathroom door and stared at my five foot eight, unkempt dark brown hair and slightly over-weight reflection in the mirror and knew what I had to do.

I had no choice. I”d have to tell Mom.

***

Twenty-four hours later, I found myself wide-eyed with embarrassment sat next to her in the waiting room of our local Surgery cursing myself at my continued stupidity.

You big fucking dope. Why the hell did you open your big fat mouth and tell her you think you had some sort of “man problem” when you had gone back down for tea yesterday?

You KNOW what she’s like. The first sign of a problem and Mom did what she always did. The sensible thing. “A problem shared is a problem fixed!” as she kept telling me. And now here we were. I tilted my head back so that I was staring straight up at the bright white ceiling wishing I was a million miles away. Anywhere but here right now.

It was going on six in the late afternoon and Mom had arranged to meet me after work as she had booked a late appointment with a Doctor Meadows whom she apparently knew. I sighed in resignation and just wanted to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. At least things couldn’t get any worse I thought to myself as the buzzer went and my name flashed up on the LED display telling us to go to Room Six.

But I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong.

***

Okay. Let’s get this out of the way first. My Mom and how to describe her. I mean, Moms are Moms, right? They just are. They’re just always there when you need them. Like beans. Or clean underwear. Anyway, Mom is Jessica Jane Peterson. A thirty-nine-year-old no nonsense all American girl born and raised in the Southern Bible belt and as prim and as proper as could be. Married at nineteen to an asshole. Divorced at thirty-seven to the same adulterous drunken asshole who walked out one day and never came back.

Mom is the Doris Day type. Five-seven straight up and down with shoulder-length white blonde hair that was always immaculate wherever she went and whatever she was doing. Bright blue eyes. Thick lashes. A slightly off-center nose above raspberry pursed lips that were always painted a deep lipstick red. Mom had always been pretty svelte but as the years passed by she sort of filled out and had ended up with a nice hourglass figure with what I innocently imagined were decent boobs and a round firm butt. Not that I had ever really thought about them in a sexual way you understand.

Honest.

***

At the beep, I stood up. So did Mom.

“Where are you going?” I blurted out as I looked at her in shocked surprise.

Mom took my elbow and steered me along the aisle avoiding the people left in the waiting room. “With you, silly,” she said as I tried to resist, “Knowing you, you’ll clam up and we won’t get to the bottom of your problem. Besides, I’ve known Doctor Meadows for a long time.”

“But, Mom!” I spluttered, “You can’t come in with me!”

“Why not?” she replied as she gripped my arm tighter, “I’m your Mother.”

What does she mean why not? Is she crazy? Did she honestly think I was going to sit there explaining to the Doctor about my ball ache with her sat right beside me? NO WAY. Absolutely fucking zero chance of that happening for sure. Time to act like an adult and assert my growing maturity.

I stopped suddenly and turned to her. “Listen, look, Mom,” I said firmly staring into her eyes, “I mean, this is really personal stuff. I’m old enough to see the Doctor myself. Honest. I can’t talk to him with you sitting there next to me. It’s just not,” I shook my head, “Right!”

Mom stared at me for a moment. She had a strange smile on her face and raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Finished?” she said brightly, “Good. Now come on, Henry dear. Sooner in. Sooner out.”

With that, she grabbed my arm again and marched me to Room Six where another embarrassing surprise was waiting for me.

***

“So you’re Henry,” smiled Doctor Meadows, “Jessica has told me a lot about you.”

Uh. Okay. Really? This is um not what I was expecting. I opened my mouth and sort of wheezed out a strangulated “Hello.”

Realizing I was struggling, Mom sat forward in her chair and patted me on the knee. “See, Henry,” she smiled, “I told you it would be fine. Doctor Meadows and me go way back. We used to go to school together back in the day. When I’m in town we sometimes have lunch together and socialize. How else do you think I managed to get you an appointment so quickly?” she explained.

I glanced at the Doctor who turned out wasn’t a he but a she. Alright. Okay. Sure. They did look about the same age. She was the same build as Mom but had smart shoulder length bronze colored hair framing her face with big brown eyes between dark lashes, a distinguished nose, full lips with a cutely pointed chin. To my Eighteen-year-old sensibilities, she was what my age group defined as a bit of a MILF and then some judging by the obvious abundance of her bust hidden underneath her plain white blouse.

Doctor Meadows turned to me as we sat in front of her desk. On said desk was a laptop which I presumed was connected to the surgery network and had all my previous records on it.

“Now then, Henry,” she said looking at me as I slowly shrank in my chair under her gaze, “Your Mother tells me you’ve some sort of problem down below?”

Clearing my throat, I managed a nervous “Uh, sort of.”

She saw me crawling back into my shell and smiled warmly. “It’s alright. Take your time and tell me all about it. Once we get some idea of the issue, I can decide if you need to be sent for some tests or whatever. It’s probably nothing to worry about and just part of you growing up and going through puberty.”

“Well,” I said in barely a whisper, “It’s um, it’s kind of uh my uh..”

“It’s his testicles, Helen,” said Mom in exasperation, “He came downstairs yesterday evening and said he had a problem with them. They were always aching he said.”

There you go. Now I know where the phrase “So mortified you want to crawl and hide up your own asshole” comes from. Way to go Mom. The Doctor looked at me as I turned the brightest shade of puce ever.

I gave a small nod. “Uh, yeah. My er testicles sort of ache all the time.”

“Alright, good. There you go. That wasn’t so hard was it.” said the Doctor as she slipped on her old-fashioned wing framed spectacles which hung around her neck on a silver chain. Suddenly, out of the blue, mature women wearing spectacles became an erotic thing in my life, “Now I’m going to ask you some basic personal questions, Henry,” she went on, “Is it all right for your Mother to stay?”

No. Of course it isn’t.

I gave a resigned shrug and sighed. “Sure, I guess.”

***

Doctor Meadows looked at me over her laptop as she read from the list.

“So you’re eighteen, Henry?” she asked.

“And a bit,” I mumbled. A bit is important if you’re only eighteen.

“Have you had any health issues recently other than the one you’re here now for?”

I stuck out my lower lip thinking. “Uh, no. Not really. The odd cold maybe.”

“Are you on any medication?”

“No.”

I could feel Mom staring at me like a hawk as the basic questions became more personal.

The Doctor smiled at me. “What about relationships?” she asked, “Girlfriend?” she paused, “Boyfriend?”

“Uh,” I replied, “No, not really and definitely nope.”

“Alright,” said Doctor Meadows as she sat typing away, “What about sexual relationships in general? Have you ever had sexual intercourse with anyone and, if so, how recently was the last time you did?”

“He’s only eighteen!” interrupted Mom looking slightly taken aback at the question asked by her friend. Mom was the kind of Mom who probably thought her little boy would always be her little boy no matter what. That I was turning into a walking talking spunk dispenser would never cross her mind in a million years.

The Doctor looked over the top of her spectacles which were perched on the end of her nose at her. “You’d be surprised, Jessica.”

Oh geez. I dropped my head and stared at my thumbs twiddling nervously away in my lap. What a question to ask a son in front of his Mother. Still staring at my hands, I shook my head again unable to look at either woman. “No,” I said quietly, “No I haven’t.”

There was a brief pause before Doctor Meadows continued.

“Do you masturbate, Henry?”

Uh oh. Asking about sex is one thing. Asking about something so individually intimate was quite the other. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom cross her legs and imagined she was just as embarrassed as I was. I frowned and glanced up at the Doctor who was staring at me. Should I tell a lie? Don’t be stupid, Dude. That would be totally stupid on the stupid scale. What was so bad about squeezing one out now and again? Didn’t everyone do it?

“Uh yes, sort of,” I replied, “Sometimes. Maybe. Not often. Not a lot.”

Doctor Meadows smiled and I knew she could read me like a book. “And how often is not often or not a lot?”

If I was digging that hole, my ass would be halfway to China by now. I sort of shrugged as I knew Mom was staring intently at me. “Um, lately, I’d say two or three times a day, I guess” Then added for good measure because it was true, “Maybe four or five if the ache is really bad.”

By now Mom was probably sat there wondering how her quiet and shy little boy had suddenly turned into a pent-up sexual ball of copious spunk. The Doctor nodded and I could hear her tapping away at her keyboard as I stared at the floor. “Okay, that’s interesting. Two or three is actually pretty average for someone your age, Henry,” she explained as she looked between me and Mom who was clutching her bag in her lap with an expression that made her look like a Nun who had wandered into a brothel by mistake, “Four or five is a little unusual. Do you produce a lot of sperm with each ejaculation, Henry?”

My asshole was wound up so tight I could whistle Dixie through it. What sort of question is THAT? I sensed Mom shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. Produce a lot of sperm? I had no practical idea. I mean, how much was a lot?

“I’m not sure,” I said truthfully, “Definitely a lot more than I was a couple of weeks ago when the ache in my, uh, things began. A lot more actually.”

Doctor Meadows sat back in her black leather chair and removed her spectacles. “Alright, enough with the embarrassing questions,” she said finally much to my relief, “But they come with the territory as they help give me an idea of your general health, Henry,” She got to her feet and came around the desk to stand in front of us, “Now if you’ll just go over to the bed, pull the curtains around you, and I’ll have a quick examination down there and we should be good to go. I’ll also ask the Surgery Nurse to take some blood to be sent away as a precaution.”

Examination?

She wanted to look at my dick and balls?

Wrap me up and send me to Cleveland. I’m done.

***

Behind the curtain, as I sat there with my heart pounding away in my ears, Doctor Meadows came to stand in front of me and indicated I should pull down my jeans so she could examine me down there.

“Just drop your pants and we’ll have a quick look at your penis and testicles to make sure everything is okay physically and that you don’t have any lumps or bumps where there shouldn’t be.”

Pants. Drop. I can do that. No problemo. She’s a Doctor after all. She’s probably seen billions of dicks. Taking a deep breath, I unfastened my jeans pushing them and my shorts down to my knees before shuffling back to sit staring up at the ceiling with my hands behind my back as I tried to look cool with the voice inside my head yelling loudly DO. NOT. GET. A. BONER. DUDE.

“Hmmmmmmm,” said the Doctor as she leaned forward over my flaccid member and squeezed both hands into a pair of thin rubber gloves.

As I felt her fondling my ball sack, I twiddled my toes and closed my eyes trying to think of anything other than what was going on down below. After a few seconds, she seemed satisfied and stepped back.

“Well,” she said brightly, “Everything looks fine and dandy, Mr. Peterson. Nothing out of the ordinary,” She started to leave and paused as she opened the gap in the curtain, “Nice equipment, by the way,” she winked, “Interesting underwear too,” she added with a smile before she went back to her desk where Mom was waiting as I shuffled somewhat bemused back into my pants.

Excuse me?

I glanced down and groaned. Oh hell, I had forgot.

Scooby Doo underpants.

***

The elephant wasn’t so much sat in the corner of the room but in the back seat of the car as Mom drove us back home. In this case, the elephant wasn’t an elephant at all but an innocuous-looking white bag that contained THE THING.

The plastic measuring beaker.

Mom sat rigid with both hands gripping the wheel tightly and I could see her face going through various silent conversational contortions as she remembered what her Doctor friend had explained to us by way of treatment.

“Now then, Henry,” she had said as she sat forward so that her impressive chest swelled obscenely as she leaned over her crossed arms, “In my professional opinion, I suggest the first thing we need to do in the way of treatment is to get some idea of how much sperm you’re actually producing each day,” Reaching into one of her desk drawers, Doctor Meadows pulled out a pad of paper that had some sort of grid on it, “You’ll need to record how much you’re ejaculating every time you masturbate and note the amount down on this sheet along with the relevant dates.”

To my surprise, she reached back in her drawer and put a plastic cup on the desk in front of us which had markings up one side. “Use this to take the measurement,” she explained, “Make sure every drop goes into this medical beaker and give it a thorough clean when you’re done.”

Mom looked stunned as I shifted in my chair avoiding her gaze. “You’re kidding,” she blurted out as she glanced at me with a frown. No doubt I was going to get a right ear full when I got home. Me and my overripe testicles.

Doctor Meadows shook her head. “Not really. By measuring his daily volume over, say, a two week period, we can get some idea of how Henry’s body is developing as he goes through puberty or if there is something else wrong. Once we get the blood results back, we’ll have a better idea of the overall picture.”

I sat in the passenger seat not saying a word as I watched the world go by. I mean, what was there to say anyway? It sure looked like I was going to be spending a lot of time in the bathroom pumping the old snake over the next couple of weeks that was for sure.

As for Mom.

We pulled up to a red light and she turned to look at me as she let it all come out in a breathless rush.

“Seriously, Henry,” she said in obvious exasperation, “This is all absolutely disgusting to me. I hope you realize that, young man. What in God’s name have you been up to? I mean, four or five times A DAY?!”

The lights thankfully turned green and she turned back shaking her head as we headed for home. I shrank even further into my seat knowing she was as mad as hell and wondered if my life could actually get any more fucking weird.

As it turned out, weird doesn’t even begin to cover what happened next.

***

End of part 1.

Notes: This story is inspired by an original erotic series I read and enjoyed many years ago in an adult fiction newsgroup. Which was a bit of a surprise as I had/have zero interest in the Incest/Mom/Son themes it covered. Just thought it would be a fun writing challenge to do something a little different. Hope you like my take on it.

---