Jason Comes to the Back Door

This story is a sequel to Jason and Mrs. Johnson. I have received requests to provide a sequel to this story, but not until the suggestions of A_Satori, did I feel that I could. A_Satori and I in fact worked on this sequel together, and he deserves considerable credit as a co-author and should be recognized as such (unless you don't like the story). Please note, some material is repeated from the two prior chapters, yet it still would be very worthwhile to first read "Jason and the Johnsons" and "Jason and Mrs. Johnson," as the rationale and foundation for what happens in this story will be inadequate without an appreciation of what has already occurred. As was true in the prior two stories, all of the characters are at least eighteen years old.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Madeline Johnson, out of grave concern that her daughter, Bridget, maintain her chastity until her wedding night, had continued her periodic sessions with Jason, Bridget's boyfriend. It was really quite understandable. Jason was such a virile young man and no mother could really expect him not to be stricken with lustful urges in the presence of the sweetly delectable vision that was her daughter, Bridget. Mrs. Johnson had in fact even considered suggesting to Bridget that she dress-down a bit, as her tight sweaters and short skirts must be very difficult for the young man. But, as a mother, she knew that any such suggestion would only be met with indignant protestation and perhaps even rebellion. She therefore did what any mother would probably do: throw herself on the young man's sword for the sake, the safety, the purity, of her daughter.

It was, indeed, quite a sacrifice on Madeline's part. Not too many mothers would do what she felt should be done. But, Madeline was not an ordinary mother married to an ordinary husband. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Johnson approved of premarital sex. Actually, it was much worse than that. They fully disapproved of premarital sex. They had avoided any such dalliances themselves when they were Bridget's age and they fully expected their daughters to follow suit. Certainly Bridget's older sister had been chaste. Bridget was a Johnson girl, and Johnson girls were good girls.

Mr. Johnson even assumed that once his daughter was married she wouldn't partake in deviant, paraphilic acts, such as oral sex. These were things that good girls just didn't do, and never would do. Only the whores, the porn stars, the sluts, would do such things. As Mr. Johnson would say, oral sex bore no relationship with the real purpose of sex: creating offspring.

He would never put his lips on a woman's vagina. Just the thought of doing something like that seemed one step removed from homosexuality (although he never really explained why). Even if he could not defend the logic of his position, the act was repugnant simply because it was placing the lips which kissed your children on the lips through which your spouse expelled waste material. What is loving about that? Is not such an act inherently disgusting, a degradation?

Mr. Johnson, of course, was no hypocrite. If he wouldn't do it for a woman, he certainly wouldn't demean this woman in the same manner by expressing or even asking that she perform such an act on him. And, so, the sexual activities of Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were rather constrained, to say the least. In fact, they hadn't had sexual intercourse since Bridget's birth.

This had become rather difficult for Madeline. Actually, quite frustrating. She became terribly stricken by dreams, many of which shaded into nightmares. There was, for instance, the dream in which she was tied up by a group of young men. Her top was pulled down so that they could see her bosoms, and they were masturbating, right in front of her. She was trying to tell them in her most commanding, authoritative, maternal voice to untie her, to cover her breasts, to stop playing with themselves, warning them that their mothers would be so upset if she saw what they were doing. She kept explaining that she was as old as their mothers, that she was really no different from their mothers. But, no matter what she said they just wouldn't listen. She tried to squirm out of the ropes, but that only made her naked breasts bounce and wiggle, much to the young men's obvious pleasure.

The scene then suddenly changed. She was on her knees while they smacked her face with their throbbing, yearning, hard cocks. And, then, they were no longer there, or at least their bodies were almost entirely gone. All that was left were their hard, erect, stiff dicks, poking and squirming in the air. The air all around her was filled with naked stiff, hard penises. Some were small, some were large, some were straight, some were curved. There were just so many of them, and they were poking her all over her face, crowding and pushing each other to try to get to her, like the air was filled with swimming, swarming penis snakes. Some of them were even trying to get into her mouth! A particularly small but very stiff one was having some success squeezing past her lips. It had lodged its head against her lips and was now pumping, thrusting, and forcing its way in deeper, and then suddenly the head popped in. She squeezed tight with her lips to prevent the rest of it from getting through and, for some reason, she began to lick and lap away at the soft round crown. Perhaps she was trying to give it what it wanted so that it would keep still. She didn't know. All that she knew in her dream was that she was in fact licking the knob of a hard, stiff penis. Then, she saw that one of them, a really, really big one, was beginning to pulse and throb right in front of her eyes, yet she couldn't turn away. She was transfixed by the sight. The bulbous head seemed to swell and expand to three times its size: so shiny, so purple, so swollen. It suddenly exploded and she felt her face become awash with huge splats of cum. She woke up, her face soaked. She wiped some of the moisture from her brow. She was so relieved that it was her own perspiration and not actual male ejaculation. Although, she looked over at her sleeping husband; wondering; wondering what it would be like if he squirted his stuff all over her face, and then she felt so terribly, terribly guilty over having such a horribly repugnant thought, and dream.

She had wondered if perhaps she should see a therapist. She was having some pretty disturbing dreams (see "Jason and Mrs. Johnson"). She thought, 'I mean, my goodness: dismembered erect penises'? And, those feelings, those terribly disturbing feelings she would have when she awoke. It was really not just between her legs, but deeper inside, like a hunger that desperately needed to be fed. She would at times get out of bed, go downstairs, and have cold ice cream to try to cool off the heat between her thighs, feeding herself in at least one way, but never really satisfying the hunger.

At first she tried to alleviate the burning yearning by going to an all women's health club (Mr. Johnson wouldn't have allowed her to go to a uni-sex gym) and exercising for a couple hours five days a week. The physical workouts didn't really drive the hunger away. Cold showers after a workout sometimes helped, but not for long. In fact, the workouts might have even been oddly problematic, making matters worse in one particular regard.

The severe regimen of workouts had the benefit of helping her develop a rather strikingly firm, trim, slender, and youthful body. She was a very attractive woman and had been a very pretty girl. She had long wavy blonde hair, pretty green eyes, rosy cheeks, sweet red lips, long shapely legs, and very, very full breasts. However, as a girl and as a woman her breasts had typically been kept hidden by her matronly dresses, loose sweaters, and aprons. As a girl, and a young lady, she was often quite embarrassed at how large they were, and typically wore clothes that would minimize, if not hide, their prominence, their fullness, their appeal.

But, now, as a middle-aged woman who has developed through a considerable amount of dedicated hard-work, a youthful, firm, and healthy body, she began to appreciate and value her physical fitness, her appeal. She particularly admired how firm and fit her bottom had become, which she at times would study, in the privacy of her bedroom, looking over her shoulder after she came out of her morning bath, feeling really quite proud to see no cellulite, giggling as she squeezed her cheeks, her bottom becoming even tauter.

She had never paid much attention to her bottom when she was a young woman. Frankly, she hadn't paid much attention to any part of her body, at least not in that way. But, she now purchased more flattering clothes, hoping to attract her husband's attention, to get him to notice how his wife was slimmer, more appealing and, dare she say it, sexier, than she had been twenty years ago. Most husbands would probably appreciate that. But, her body just seemed to fall on blind eyes, at least when it came to Jim's.

But, not to the eyes of other men. In fact, as she got fitter and fitter, slimmer and slimmer, she began to notice that she was actually turning the heads, attracting the eyes, of quite a number of other men, and even the eyes and interest of younger men, men as young as Jason. What woman would not find that flattering? She started noticing men, especially young Jason, ogling or even gawking at her large fleshy orbs, bolding standing out above such a narrow waist. She would at times even catch Jason admiring her bottom, which made her face blush.

So, the intense exercising not only failed to relieve her tension, it perhaps added to it. As the voluptuous breasts on such a trim figure increasingly attracted the interest of the male animal, like bucks to a doe in heat, so too did her own interests, her own deep feelings, become further stirred.

What did in fact end her disturbing dreams were the sessions with Jason. Her torturous nightmares slowly began to dissipate with each lovingly satisfying encounter. She had to laugh about that. Imagine how much money she might have spent on a therapist, when in fact all she needed was to have sex with a young man. If only more women realized how helpful and effective such straightforward therapy could be.

Her primary motivation though was, of course, to help her daughter maintain her chastity by keeping her lustful boyfriend in check. It must be acknowledged that she did love Jim, her husband. There should be no mistake about that. He was a very good provider, a good man, and a good father. He loved his wife, and he loved his daughters, both to the bottom of his heart. Madeline knew how much Jim wanted Bridget to remain chaste and be pure for her wedding night, and so, she was really doing this for him as well.

Truth be told, though, she also felt a degree of motherly responsibility for Jason as well, to help the young man be the best that he could be when it came to pleasing and satisfying his young bride. After all, that bride was her daughter and, as a mother, she certainly wanted everything for her daughter. The wedding night was indeed a very special moment in a young woman's life, and what mother would not want her daughter to have it be a most wonderful, satisfying, and glorious experience. It certainly hadn't been that way for her, and she wanted life to be so much more rewarding, more gratifying and more wondrous for Bridget. The sign of a successful parent is having your offspring go farther, be better, and grow further, than yourself. She smiled at the thought of what a wonderful wedding present she was preparing for her precious Bridget.

Madeline's problem now though was that she didn't really have much to offer when it came to instructing Jason in matters of the body and adult sexuality. Goodness, what useful experiences has she in fact had? Prior to Jason, she could probably count on both hands how many times she had sexual intercourse. Actually, that is a bit of an exaggeration. They did have two children, after all. But, just as some people can count the number of persons with whom they have had sex, Madeline could probably count the number of times she and her husband have had sex, as it was always on Friday (never on Sunday, and he was always too tired during the week), and done only for the purpose of procreating a child. It desisted when she became pregnant with Bridget. And certainly when they did do it, it was lights out, between the sheets, and strictly functional. He also required that they do it on her side of the bed as he really couldn't tolerate the wet spot. After all, he was doing it for her, so that she could have her baby, and so she should be the one to have to sleep on the wet spot.

Where to learn about sex? How ironic this felt, a mother seeking advice and guidance about sex. And, how woeful and miserable she now felt as a mother, knowing so little. Where does one turn?

She considered going to the library and checking out a book on sex education, but she could hardly face the librarian when she checked it out. She could say it was for her daughter, but would anyone really believe that? And, besides, what if somebody she knew happened to notice her with the book?

The answer then suddenly dawned on her: the computer. Everything one wants to know is now on the tips of your fingers.

Her husband did have a computer in the den that was attached to the internet. Bridget used it for her homework. Her husband used it to manage the household bills and family finances, and even Madeline had used it on occasion, largely for new recipes.

She asked her daughter for further instruction on how to 'ski' the internet, as the kids would say. Bridget's first lesson was to instruct her that it was surfing, not skiing. Not a particularly good start.

Bridget was quite happy to help her mother. She was in fact very pleased that her mother was actually venturing out into the world, even it was just cyberspace (her mother kept calling it hyperspace). She felt her mother was just so overly timid and inhibited, so ignorant of the world, so provincial. Most daughters do feel that way about their mothers, but it really was true in this case. Bridget recognized that her mother was so much under the thumb of father. Actually, the entire family was under daddy's intently watchful eye. Bridget so looked forward to the day when she could move out. Frankly, she could technically, legally, move out now. She was, after all, eighteen. But, daddy forbid his daughters from leaving home until they were fully grown, and in his mind that meant being at least 21. If you couldn't drink or vote, then how could you expect to live independently?

Bridget showed her mother how to surf and google. It was kind of fun teaching your mother how to do something. The roles in life were finally reversed. Not surprisingly, her mother did ask whether she might come across any forbidden, naughty sites, inadvertently, of course. More precisely, she asked how does one get to one of these sites, so that she would know how to avoid doing so, accidentally. Bridget was not surprised by this. She could imagine her mother stumbling across something and becoming so shocked and frightened that she wouldn't return to the computer for days, if at all. She would probably even have the computer removed from the house, and Bridget certainly wouldn't like that.

So, she reassured her mother that daddy had made sure the computer was fully protected from such accidents. He had installed software that blocked access to such sites, as well as changing some of the DNS settings himself. He blocked not only pornography, but anything concerning lingerie, bikinis, brassieres, panties, and so forth. Frankly, it did at times make it difficult to do some of her homework but, as daddy said, "Better safe than sorry." She felt her mother would be relieved to hear this, but she in fact appeared concerned. She reassured her mother further. "Really, mother, you couldn't access a forbidden site even if you wanted to." Daddy certainly made sure of that.

"Yes," Mrs. Johnson replied, "that's good," but not sounding particularly pleased or comforted.

"Honestly, mother," Bridget added, "I've never come across any such site accidentally."

Mrs. Johnson felt that was a bit of oddly careful wording on her daughter's part. "Accidentally? Have you ever done it intentionally, gotten around the blocking?" She was asking for clues for how to do it herself, but was also quite concerned if her daughter had in fact gone to some sort of adult site. It was fine for her, the mother, to visit such a site for the good of the family, for the betterment of her children, but she certainly felt that such things would be quite inappropriate for Bridget and, may in fact be rather traumatizing for her. If Bridget had in fact done so, then perhaps she was already too late to protect her daughter.

"Goodness no, mother!" Bridget strongly asserted. "You can ask daddy. There is even a monitoring program. If I tried to go a forbidden site he could check the history of the computer usage and would know every thing I've typed, every place I've visited, every attempt I made. Goodness, mother, I wouldn't even dream of trying," at least not on the home computer.

Which is what ran through Madeline's mind as well. Apparently the home office computer wouldn't be a good source to learn anything.

The next day she went to the public library and accessed one of their computers, using the instructions her daughter had provided. The library computer also blocked explicit adult sites, but was not nearly so thoroughly protected as her husband's. She googled 'sex positions.'

The first site was apparently a page out of a popular woman's magazine, one of those that are sold at the supermarket. Mrs. Johnson found it rather risque, and couldn't imagine purchasing one, even if they were for women. It seemed like every issue had a front cover picture of a woman with large breasts and a plunging cleavage. Jim always sighed or even snorted with considerable frustration when he saw it, saying that someday he would complain to Krogers that they were selling adult material right in the middle of the family-oriented supermarket.

And, perhaps he was right, for when she clicked that site she was immediately faced with a picture of two half-naked persons and an illustration of a guy apparently doing it to a woman from behind. She was bent over, on one leg. He was holding up her other leg by her ankle. She was resting on her elbows on a bed, her foot on the floor, her face to the mattress. It was really rather shocking. She clicked the green arrow to make the computer go back a page, like Bridget had shown her.

The next site was explicitly concerned with sex positions, but it included quite a number of very strange ones, or at least the names were strange. She clicked the name of a position called 'Fire Hydrant,' and her eyes widened in shock, and wonder. On the screen was a picture of a naked woman with long straight dark hair, kneeling, her elbows resting on a chair. Behind her was a naked guy, also on his knees, clearly penetrating her from behind. She couldn't quite get why it was called Fire Hydrant, until she realized that the woman's left leg was raised up, like she was going to pee on a hydrant.

'Disgusting,' she thought. She quickly clicked the green arrow and then clicked, 'Ironing the crack.'

It was the same couple. The chair was turned so it faced the camera, the woman was still on her knees, her breasts resting full on the seat of the chair, one hand was on the floor, the other holding or pushing the guy behind her, who was again doing it from behind. She couldn't get at all this time why it was called' Ironing the Crack.' She did a lot of ironing herself. Maybe it had something to do with the crack of her bottom? Did the word 'iron' have something to do with his erect penis? It just didn't make sense.