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Ronny hadn’t bothered getting dressed. It was a scene I never dreamed I would witness. My teenaged son lounging naked on our couch.
“Lose the robe, Mom,” was the first thing he said. “I want to see you naked like you promised.”
“I didn’t promise anything.”
He got up. I took a step back to maintain some distance. I wanted a few seconds to present my case, to make my point before he tried to take control. Something he had gotten good at (like his father).
“The robe, Mom.”
“Ronny, I know how it is to be young and full of new thoughts and desires. As we grow older—”
“I don’t want a lecture, Mom. I want to see you naked.”
“Just hear me out for a second. When we get older, we learn how to control ourselves. But when we first encounter feelings that are powerful, like sex, all we want to do is fulfill those desires. Once they’re fulfilled, we come back to normal and lots of times regret what we did.”
“Mom, the only thing I’m going to regret is if I don’t get you pregnant tomorrow. I want us to be naked here together, mostly to get YOU ready for it, to make you comfortable with it so it can happen with the most chance of it working.”
My desperation play here was to get Ronny to cum. I figured once that happened he would see the lunacy of his “plan” to get me pregnant.
He came forward and reached for my robe. I intercepted his hand and said, “Let’s sit down for a minute and listen to what I have to say.”
“No, Mom, the robe.”
I reached out and took his penis into my right hand.
“Oh, Mom!” he said in surprise.
I jacked it back and forth until it was fully pumped. “Let’s sit.”
“OK, Mom.”
Once on the couch, I laid out my scheme: “Mom’s going to do something now to help you. To help you think more clearly. You must understand the reason behind this.” I took his hard cock and began a slow pump—all the way up and all the way down. At the top of the motion, I lightly ran my thumb over the tip of his sensitive head.
“Mmmm,” growled out of his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch. I can only imagine what was going through his mind as he realized his own mom was going to give him a handjob.
The heat of his prick burned into my hand. I kept telling myself I was doing this to save the situation, but part of me was beginning to revel in the fact I was able to still excite a young cock, make it hard, and … make it cum. As I looked at my hand speeding up, my breath became more shallow and quicker.
“Mom!” Ronny whispered.
I thought it wouldn’t be long now. That’s when Ronny stopped me. He took my hand off his penis, and leaned forward.
“Ronny, what’s wrong. Let me finish you.”
He didn’t say a word, but pushed me slowly off the couch and guided my kneeling body between his knees, facing him.
“Ronny, no. I can’t do that to you.” I knew the implication. I knew what this position meant. He didn’t just want a handjob—he wanted his mother to give him a blowjob.
He took my hand and put it back on his cock. My fingers couldn’t reach all the way around it. He guided my hand up and down in a slow repetitive motion. Then he left it to continue on its own, which it did.