Jason Comes to the Back Door

In honor of the night, Bridget was wearing her Mary Stone dress (from "The Donna Reed Show") that her mother had made for a costume party in high school. Shelley Fabares played the role of Mary Stone (she subsequently played the wife of Hayden Fox in "Coach"). Mr. Johnson really, really liked Bridget in that dress (Shelley Fabares was awfully cute).

The skirt and blouse were a little tight and small on her now, and quite distracting for Jason. The skirt rode up even higher when she was sitting on the couch. The very top of her thighs appeared and, if she wasn't careful, one could get glimpses of her panties. It seemed that a couple of times when she sat or shifted on the couch. Bridget wasn't being the least bit careful protecting her modesty and, not surprisingly, they were pink. Bridget really did like pink.

Mrs. Johnson wasn't being much help either. She was wearing a cotton voile sun dress with a cinched waist that was very figure flattering. It was a good few inches above the knees, but what was most appealing, at least for Jason, was that the bodice was really quite tight and plunging, and the spaghetti straps kept falling off her shoulders.

They were watching the very first episode of "Father Knows Best:" "Bud Takes Up The Dance." Mrs. Johnson's face turned red when Jim announced the episode. Bud was going to the school dance but he didn't know how to dance. It was a very awkward time for Bud, and a rather awkward episode for Mrs. Johnson.

"I almost forgot," Mrs. Johnson announced, "I made lemonade! What was I thinking? My mind has just been off to nowhere the last few weeks. You go ahead and watch the show," she said to her husband, Bridget, and Jason, "I'll be right back." She made a quick exit to the kitchen.

Mr. Johnson smiled approvingly and appreciatively. Madeline was no Donna Stone, Margaret Anderson, or June Cleaver, but his little woman did make awfully good lemonade.

Soon after she left the room Jason said, "I should go help her. She might need some help with the glasses."

"Jason, how very sweet of you," Bridget said, patting him on the knee in appreciation. She smiled at her boyfriend. Jason was so amazingly considerate of her mother. Not too many boyfriends would work so hard to please your mother. It seemed like every time he visited he went out of his way to speak to her, to help her with something, or just to compliment her on a new hairdo or outfit (it was terribly impressive that he even knew when she had a new outfit). Sometimes he even left her just to spend some time with her mother. What boyfriends would do that!

"Yea, sure, no problem. I'll be right back."

"We'll fill you in on what's happened when you get back," Mr. Johnson promised.

"Thank you, sir," Jason replied as he left the room, following Mrs. Johnson into the kitchen.

He found Mrs. Johnson only just beginning the process of preparing a fresh batch of lemonade. "Oh, hello, Jason. I guess I hadn't even made any lemonade at all. I'll be done soon. You can go ahead and watch the show." She could hear the sound of Bud falling over onto the bedroom floor, trying to teach himself how to dance, Mr. Johnson chuckling with each fall.

"I thought maybe you might need some help, Mrs. Johnson."

"Jason, how very sweet of you," she replied, just like her daughter, as the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Mrs. Johnson made her lemonade from scratch, including first heating the water so that the sugar totally dissolves (it often just fell to the bottom of the pitcher if the water is not first heated). "Do you like your lemonade sweet, dear? I can put extra sugar in, if you wish."

"No, no, it's fine. I've always liked your lemonade just as you make it."

"Well, that's very sweet of you." She smiled pleasantly at Jason as she crushed another lemon in her heavy antique juice squeezer.

Jason spoke more softly, "You know what I would really like, Mrs. Johnson is, um, well, um." He couldn't really say it, out loud. "You know."

Mrs. Johnson looked away, turning her attention back to her lemons. "Shhhh, Jason. Hush now, Bridget and Jim are just right around the corner."

They probably couldn't hear them through the noise from the television, although Jason and Mrs. Johnson could hear dialogue from the show. Jim, on the show, was saying that Bud "had been acting strange ever since he was born."

Mrs. Johnson placed another half lemon into the squeezer.

Jason strode up to stand behind her, reached around her body, pressed his crotch against her soft round bottom, and grasped through her sun dress both of her equally full squishy breasts with his hands, clutching them like he was trying to squeeze the juice, the milk, out of them.

"Jason!" Mrs. Johnson squealed.

Jason quickly let go, stepped back, and glanced toward the hallway into the family room.

"Everything okay in there?" Mr. Johnson called out.

"Yes, yes, dear," Mrs. Johnson called back. "We just spilled some lemonade. Everything's fine." She lowered her voice, hearing the TV Jim and Margaret talking about their blushing Bud taking a girl to a dance for the very first time. "Jason, what on earth were you thinking! You don't just walk up to a woman and grab her bosoms."

Jason felt like he was being scolded like a little boy, although not too many young, or even older, boys are scolded for grabbing a woman's breasts. It was more than just a little embarrassing. He meekly replied, "No, ma'am, sorry, ma'am. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Well, I think I know what you were thinking. Gracious, Jason! What if Bridget, or Jim, walked in? How would you explain it to them?"

Yea, there weren't too many compelling explanations that he could provide. "Um, I don't know."

Jason could hear Jim Anderson warning Cathy and Betty to be nice to Bud, as it is a very sensitive time for a young man when he takes a girl to his first dance. Bud certainly did have a problem. What's a boy to do around a daughter and mother who were both so gosh darned sexy? Ladies who seemed to be flaunting their bodies, teasing him so mercilessly. His cock didn't know which direction to turn, but it did appear to be the case that the younger body was likely to be more receptive. Jason didn't know what was going on with Mrs. Johnson, but perhaps this well had gone dry and he was really so terribly thirsty.

Mrs. Johnson took a deep breath, the top of her breasts rising up from her bodice. If her breasts were actually liquid they would surely spill over. She sighed. She knew that this was largely her fault. She had been providing a pretty regular drink from her well and it may not be realistic to ask Jason to go without any sustenance for such a sustained period of time. Still, she felt she had really behaved in such a wanton and lewd manner in their last encounter. Her language had been so course and inexcusable. Of course, her language in the final moments of previous climaxes with Jason had also been off color, but she had never gone so far as she had the last time. She felt really very guilty about it, particularly after scolding him earlier, making him wash his mouth out. She should be a role model for the boy. As she heard Jim, the TV Jim, in the next room, discussing with Bud the importance of respecting a girl, she felt really quite inadequate as a mother.

"Mother, Jason, what's taking you two so long?" It was Bridget. She had come into the kitchen to find out what was going on. Bridget was ambivalent about "Father Knows Best," as her father would often remind her how wonderful Betty was, that she was a homecoming queen and a class president. It made it difficult at times for Bridget to like Betty, but who couldn't like her, especially in the first few seasons. Bridget also didn't like it when Betty got rid of her pony tail (Eleanor Donahue had cut it off, in protest) and perhaps at times Betty did become a bit too self-righteous and goody two-shoes but still, in the end, Bridget had always been pleased and appreciative when her own father, Mr. Johnson, called her 'Princess' as well.

Jason turned to her, slipping a hand into his pocket to grab and hide his erection. Bridget would not mind seeing his erection, handling it, and even kissing it. But, she probably wouldn't appreciate seeing it in the presence of her mother, even if she was dressed so attractively. "Hey Bridget. We're almost finished."

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Bridget replied. "You just enjoy the show. We'll be in shortly."

"Yes, well," Bridget explained. "I think I better put on a different outfit. I know that daddy likes this one and everything, but it's just too tight and uncomfortable."

It was very tight. It looked like the buttons were about to burst from the strain of keeping her boobs hidden, and the skirt was so terribly short, not that Jason would complain.

Mrs. Johnson felt that Bridget changing would indeed be a very good idea. Anything to help calm Jason down. "Yes, yes, dear, I think that's an excellent idea. Why don't you put on something more comfortable, a sweatshirt and sweat pants, perhaps." That would be pretty unattractive.

"Oh mother, don't be silly," Bridget replied, looking at her like she must be from Mars or something. Why would she wear something like that, particularly when Jason was visiting? "Jason," Bridget said, a light suddenly turning on in her mind. "Why don't you come upstairs with me and help me pick something out?" She thrust out her breasts a bit, to help him decide. She would even be willing to try a few outfits on for him.

"Yea, sure," he replied, with considerable enthusiasm. Shopping with your girlfriend as she tries to pick out new blouses, sweaters, and skirts, can be pretty darned boring, and frustrating. But, picking an outfit from her closet, in her bedroom, was a heck of a lot more appealing. It had a lot of potential. Perhaps she might even want to try on a few things for him.

Jason was not allowed in Bridget's bedroom when there was nobody home, but as long as Mr. or Mrs. Johnson was present, Mr. Johnson considered it to be acceptable. He knew his daughter wouldn't misbehave when there was parental supervision within the home. However, to be certain, she did have to keep the bedroom door open. That would not, however, deter them at this point.

Mrs. Johnson, though, knew that an open door would not be enough to restrain Jason. Goodness, he attacked her breasts right in the kitchen and it didn't even have a door! "Oh no!" Mrs. Johnson asserted, her voice louder and more forceful than one would normally expect in such a context. "I need him here."

"What?" Bridget asked. When did mother need anyone to help her make lemonade?

Mrs. Johnson reached out, took Jason's arm, the one holding onto his cock in his pocket, and pulled him back toward her. "Jason said he wanted to learn how to make home-made lemonade. You do want me to help you, I mean, help me, don't you?" She looked into his eyes with a very concerned pleading.

"Yea, yea, sure Mrs. Johnson," he replied. "I do want to learn about it."

"Excellent. Now you run along, Bridget, change your clothes, and Jason and I will finish the lemonade."

"Whatever," Bridget replied, her confusion quite noticeable in her expression. She turned and headed back through the family room toward the stairway to her bedroom.

Mrs. Johnson breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was close. If her husband only knew what she was doing to help her daughter. She shook her head. Husbands so often fail to appreciate the sacrifices a mother must make for her children. She turned Jason so that he fully faced her, squatted down in front of him, and began undoing his belt and pants. "Alright then, Jason," she said, "We'll have to make this quick."

'Whoa!' Jason thought. This was a bit more than he was suggesting, or at least expecting. "Mrs. Johnson!"

"Hush, Jason," Mrs. Johnson implored. She looked up at him teasingly, "We need to be discreet about this."

A blow job in the kitchen, with her husband just around the corner, and her daughter possibly returning, was hardly discreet. But, what healthy young man could be expected to turn something like this down? He watched with considerable pleasure as Mrs. Johnson quickly and deftly pulled down his zipper, reached into his boxers and expertly pulled out his half-erect cock. Jason had purposely worn boxers just in case an opportunity, and his cock, would arise, either from Bridget or Mrs. Johnson.

Mrs. Johnson's doubts about providing relief for Jason melted away with the sight of the young man's healthy stiffening. It was like some trigger was being flipped, some internal, instinctual switch was being turned on by the sight of swelling cock.

She didn't waste any time. There was really none to waste. "Now, be a good boy, Jason, and keep an eye and ear open for Jim and Bridget." She added, "I'll take care of him," and dove her head, her face, down onto his cock, drawing him into her mouth.

Jason was in a pretty good position to be lookout. He could see the open entranceway toward the family room, and he would likely hear someone approaching down the short hallway. This was fortunate as Mrs. Johnson was more than preoccupied. He couldn't expert her to do everything. She was quite the woman, being able to "feed the baby, grease the car and powder her face at the same time," but giving Jason a blow job and watching lookout was really asking too much. Besides, she was crouched down behind the counter and lower cupboards, which worked well to provide cover in case anyone did come in.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Mrs. Johnson moaned with satisfaction as she felt the boy's penis within her mouth. She could not really understand why her husband found this so distasteful. She thought Jason's penis tasted rather nice, or at least it felt so intimate, so sexy, so naughty to have a guy's penis in her mouth. As she absorbed it into her mouth she applied her tongue to every inch and curve she found, licked, and tasted.

Jason quickly grew back to full length within Mrs. Johnson's mouth. He really couldn't tell who was better with her mouth, the mother or the daughter. This would be a rather sensitive question at the dinner table, one for which you would get into trouble no matter what you said. Fortunately, it wasn't really a contest and each had her own special talents, her personal gifts and unique qualities. Mrs. Johnson took after his cock like she was starved for its taste, its manliness, its power. Bridget was more affectionate, like a kitten with an ice cream cone.

Mrs. Johnson tried to keep its entire length within her mouth as it grew, even when it reached the back of her throat. She squinched her eyes shut, relaxed her throat, and tried to let it push and grow down into and past her throat. "Glph! Blghh! Eccch!" She suddenly bent over, her gag reflex kicking in, and she had to pull back. She clasped her fingers to her throat, her eyes watering, her left hand reaching out to hold onto the offending weapon. She coughed a few more times, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation in her throat, as if something was still stuck down in there.

"Mrs. Johnson! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" Jason quickly checked the entranceway to be certain that nobody was coming then turned his attention back to Bridget's mother. He wasn't too sure what to do. "Do you need a drink or something? Some lemonade?"

The lemonade was in fact largely done, the water now sufficiently cooled by all of the ice she had put in, mixed with the lemon juice, both fresh and (she wouldn't admit) some store-bought lemon juice. Jason poured her a little drink and she gulped it down. It did appear to help, although she felt the lemonade could use a bit more lemon, and a little less sugar.

But, once her throat was comfortable the lemonade did give her an idea. She took one of the half cut lemons that had not yet been crushed, squeezed some of its juice onto Jason's stiff cock, and began to lick and lap at the now sharp and tart taste of lemon cock. It was actually very nice, as she did so much like the taste of fresh lemon. She resumed her oral ministrations but this time kept the boy's hard penis freshly spiced and flavored. She wondered what other nice seasonings she could try in the future.

Jason was beside himself with delight. This was certainly something that Bridget had never done, nor had he himself imagined asking, and he had imagined quite a few things. Leave it to a mother to come up with a new recipe. He instinctively began to slowly, subtly push his cock in and out of Mrs. Johnson's lips as she licked and sucked on her lemon cock, swiftly bringing the boy toward his own delicious serving.

"So, how is it going in here?"

"Mr. Johnson!" Jason loudly exclaimed, shouting a warning that was a little too late.

"Lose something back there?" Mr. Johnson inquired as he headed up to the kitchen counter.

Mrs. Johnson at first froze but did not panic. She pulled away from Jason's cock, ripped open one of the lower cabinet doors, and pulled Jason up against it, effectively hiding him from the waist down. She got back up on her feet. "Oh, hi honey, I didn't hear you come in? Are you liking the show?"

"I paused it. I'm the only one in there! Isn't anyone else interested? You two are hiding in the kitchen, while Bridget is upstairs admiring her dresses. C'mon, you're missing the best parts."

Jason wouldn't agree with that, but it probably was weird for Mr. Johnson to be left there alone, especially when it was family television night. He so hoped though that Mr. Johnson would not see the need to come around the counter and help his wife with the lemonade.

"Be there in a second, dear. Here, take a glass back with you."

"Well, if it's all done then come on and enjoy the show with me."

"Yes, yes, but, um, well, we spilled some of it. I need to clean it up. Spilt lemonade can get so sticky you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me help you."

"No!" She exclaimed, with unusual force. "I mean, really, no, no, it's alright. Jason will help me and it's really all over the floor here. I don't want you walking on it with your nice slippers and everything. And, besides, Margaret Anderson wouldn't have her Jim help her clean it up. This is woman's work, after all."

That was a good point. He did recall Jim Anderson once helping his wife clean a mess in the kitchen, but it was usually Margaret who did the cleaning while Jim enjoyed his newspaper in the den. "Well, alright then, but if you're here much longer you'll miss the entire episode."

Mrs. Johnson felt that there was a pretty good chance of that, unless she could get Jason to ejaculate quickly. She was reminded of when Jim would repeatedly come into the kitchen to check up on how dinner preparation was coming. She would repeatedly remind him that the more often he interrupted her, the more often he peeked into the oven or into a pot, the longer it would be. In fact, she reached with her left hand under the counter, into the cabinet to grasp hold of the boy's erection, not only to check that the oven was still on, but to keep the leg of cock cooking. She captured it in her fist and stroked it up and down beneath the counter. Of course, if he came into the cabinet that would leave quite a bit of a real mess to have to clean. Well, she would have to deal with that later.

Jason was speechless. There was really something quite surreal about having your cock stroked by your girlfriend's mother while her father is standing right in front of you. It was also a nice way of getting back at this terribly restrictive, even dictatorial father. Apparently though Mr. Johnson did in fact have a good reason not to trust Jason. After all, he was being jerked off by his wife. Still, it would be nice to shoot off right now, literally under his nose, right into his pots and pans, or whatever Mrs. Johnson had stored down there.