Charley wasn’t fully in control of what happened in the next few minutes. Paula continued to sleep soundly, her breathing deep and even. But her nipples seemed to have become stiffer because of her self-fondling of her breasts. Her hips remained essentially motionless, but the muscles in her bottom cheeks seemed to alternately grip and then release the knob of his cock.
He gave up trying to think about his favorite celebrity sluts, or even about the more fuckable females of his acquaintance, and accepted the fact that it was his own mother that he was in intense sexual contact with, however unconscious she might be of that fact. He loved this woman, and he was becoming increasingly aware of how sexually exciting she could be. He just didn’t know how to keep something bad from happening to her here.
When he felt his cock grow and harden even more, and the rush of cum rising up from his balls could not be held back any longer, he grunted “Oh, shit!” and let his orgasm have its way. He tried not to think about the mess the forceful spurts of his cum were making on his own boxers, on his mother’s nightgown, and on his parents’ bedsheets, and he was aware that those three disaster areas had not occurred to him in the correct order of their importance.
He’d just have to think of a good explanation for it before morning. Good luck with that, he told himself. There was no way she could fail to notice it, but he had felt powerless to keep it from happening.
Fortunately, Paula let go of Charley’s hand and moved away from him soon after he’d finished cumming. He eased himself out of her bed and tiptoed back to his own room. He tried hard to feel guilty and disgusted with himself for what he’d just done, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. And why should he? He was just behaving as nature intended young men to behave in such situations, and his mother had made it virtually impossible for him to detach himself from her before his damaging cum flood arrived.
And it felt damned good. Thank God he hadn’t fucked her. He’d just made a mess of her backside and everything in its vicinity. A shower and a laundry load would solve everything for her. Well, everything except the inexcusable fact of her son having befouled her sleeping body. That wasn’t going to be so easy for her to wash away.
Charley had a horrifying momentary image of his late father chuckling at Charley’s predicament. Was this one dumb mistake going to haunt him for the rest of his life? Fuck!
* * * * *
Breakfast the next morning was surreal, it seemed to Charley. Not only did his mother make absolutely no mention of the events of the previous night, but she acted as if it had simply not happened at all. This did not, however, come as a relief to Charley. His mother knew very well the positive effects of skillfully employed Maternal Psychology. By not helping her son to atone for his gross misbehavior, she was forcing him to simmer in his own guilt and to find some way to straighten matters out for himself.
Hey, maybe she really didn’t care about the incident, thought Charley. Perhaps she thought that a ‘wet dream’ had accidentally caused him to stain her gown with a substance which she would know could only have come from him.