Jason Comes to the Back Door

"Just a bit longer, honey," Mrs. Johnson implored, squeezing the boy's cock in her hand as she softly rubbed the swollen, juicy tip around and around with the tip of her thumb. "You enjoy the show. You know how much you like 'Father Knows Best.'"

"Yes, well, that I do, that I do. Alright then, well, maybe by now Bridget has finally selected her prom dress. Seems like it's that important." He turned around and headed back toward the family room. As he left he turned to say, "Oh, and hey, you've got some lemon juice on your chin there. I don't think you two have just been making lemonade here. Seems like you've been dipping into the pitcher yourselves." He chuckled at his playful remark, and at having caught them in their rascality.

Mrs. Johnson smiled and confessed, "You caught me. Guilty as charged," and she dabbed away at the lemon cock juice with the fingers of her right hand, sniffing the moisture on them to see if she could also detect the earthy smell of erect, manly cock.

Mr. Johnson playfully shook his finger at her and then left them alone.

"Man, that was close," Jason whispered as he watched him disappear around the corner.

"Yes, it was," Mrs. Johnson smiled, feeling rather invigorated, rather excited by how close that had been. She felt like such the scamp!

She got down on her knees and pulled Jason's cock back to her mouth, quickly swallowing it again. If she had been vigorous before, she was frenetic now. She plunged her face and fist up and down the shaft, pumping his cock like it held the most richest of oil reserve ever known and must be quickly extracted for the sake of home security: Drill baby drill! It was not subtle. Mrs. Johnson was essentially fucking his cock with her face and fist, and the sounds she was making were unmistakable. It sounded like she was trying to unplug some pipe with an antique plunger, which wasn't too far from the truth.

"Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson," Jason gasped, seeing her cheeks at times bulge out with the thrust of the head of his dick against them, feeling his legs suddenly getting wobbly and weak, finding it difficult to maintain his balance, to maintain his position.

Mrs. Johnson felt a rush of excitement and anticipation. Jason was warning her that he was about to cum. That was very considerate of him. He is indeed a very good and respectful boy. Some of Bridget's prior boyfriends might have just exploded into her mouth, not realizing that you really should give due warning, just in case Bridget's mother wouldn't want to receive his cum that way. But, Mrs. Johnson did not pull away. She had never taken it in the mouth before. This would be her first time. She felt like she was a young lady once again, a girl perhaps even, experiencing sex for the first time, the first time a boy comes in her mouth.

"Mrs. Johnson," Jason spoke more urgently and wrested his cock from the woman's mouth, like he was wrenching a snake from the elbow of a plugged drain. It sprung from her mouth with a loud pop and slurp. "It's Bridget!"

Mrs. Johnson quickly got to her feet again, just as Bridget was entering the kitchen. Jason had apparently heard her coming down the hall.

'What is wrong with this family!' Mrs. Johnson thought. 'Can't they stay out of the kitchen? Can't they see I'm busy?' Well, actually, they obviously couldn't, or at least she hoped they couldn't see she was busy. "Bridget! Yes, well, don't you look, um...pretty."

Bridget looked considerably more than just pretty. She had taken her mother's advice in one respect. She had changed into a more casual, informal outfit. She was wearing short shorts which hugged her bottom like the fabric was just painted on. But, what was really worse was her top. Mrs. Johnson just shook her head.

Frankly, it looked like a chemise! It was this very thin little top, with straps thinner, weaker, than even her own summer dress, and the bodice was as tight as the shorts, if that was possible. Bridget's perky breasts were so tightly wrapped in feminine lace that one must wonder if she even purchased the correct size. It was like she was handing her round squishy tits over to Jason as a present. The top was even too short to reach her waist, baring for all to see her naked midriff and belly button.

Mrs. Johnson had seen such tops on girls before, out at the mall. It was like they were wearing their unmentionables, their lingerie, right out in public. Who were these girls' mothers, she would ask herself, to let their daughters parade around like this? "Bridget, did your father see you in that?"

Bridget had not indeed ever worn this top out in public. Well, she had, but always beneath a jacket, just allowing a bit of the lace to appear. She felt very sexy in it, and even sexier now without the jacket. "I think daddy's in the bathroom," she replied, striding assertively up to Jason, her breasts clearly wiggling and jigging beneath her thin, silk, tight top.

"Well," Mrs. Johnson asserted, "You go right back out there and show your father that top and see what he thinks." Actually, that didn't sound like quite the best idea. She didn't know if she approved of Bridget exposing herself like that to her father. There were, after all, appropriate and inappropriate parental-offspring boundaries. She absentmindedly played with Jason's cock beneath the cabinet, not apparently noticing a potential hypocrisy.

"Mother, don't be so old fashioned," Bridget replied, moving around the counter to approach Jason.

"Bridget!" Mrs. Johnson exclaimed.

"Bridget!" Jason exclaimed. He would normally turn to greet her, or at last face her in greeting, but this time he moved away from her, to face toward Mrs. Johnson, seeking help, support. This was what mothers were for, weren't they?

Mrs. Johnson pulled Jason's cock toward her, against her, as a mother would pull a shy, nervous, frightened child against her, against her skirt, to comfort him, to protect him. And, Jason certainly needed protection.

"Now dear," Mrs. Johnson explained, this time more calmly. "Can't you see that you're upsetting the boy. It's really just so inappropriate."

Bridget snuggled up against Jason's back, pressing her soft boobies into his hard, muscular back. "Oh, I think Jason likes my outfit." She got up on her tip toes, nibbled on Jason's ear, and said, "You like my top, don't you, Jason." She whispered, "Why don't you come and watch TV with me, on the couch...together."

Jason was between a rock and a hard place, actually between the soft breasts of Bridget and the firm motherly hand of her mother, yet it was still a quite difficult and delicate situation. He really didn't want to take Mrs. Johnson's side against his girlfriend. But, he frankly couldn't take Bridget's side. There was clearly no way he could follow her into the family room, not with a boner sticking out of his pants. Of course, perhaps he could just stay there, having Bridget nibble on his ear, pressing those lovely boobies into his back while her mother fondled and stroked his cock in her hand. Wasn't it a nice thing, a good thing, when mothers and daughters do things together? It was really so very, very, very nice.

Mr. Johnson had restarted the show and Jason was hearing the part in the episode where Bud discovers that his mother would be at the dance as well, chaperoning. No boy wants his mother at his first dance, but somehow it didn't seem so bad right now, if it was Mrs. Johnson.

"Bridget, if you don't get right up stairs and change into something more appropriate, I will send Jason home right now, with no more television."

"Gee whiz, mother," Bridget replied, breaking her hold on Jason and heading back to her bedroom, feeling like the scolded little child sent up to change into her jammies. Well, it wasn't too far from the truth in some regards. She felt like doing just that: changing into some pajamas, perhaps even a Teddy, although even her bunny jammies would upset her parents with Jason there. She stalked out of the room, Jason's eyes following every swing of her bottom as she left.

He looked forward to seeing her in that top again someday.

At the moment, though, he knew that he was on the verge of cumming, and not a moment too soon for Mrs. Johnson. She had to finish this souffle before she had another interruption and the whole thing collapsed. She could hear Betty teaching Bud how to dance. At least it wasn't Margaret, the mother, dancing with the boy.

She got back down on her knees to coddle, cuddle, and tickle his balls with the fingers of her left hand as she stroked the shaft with her right, and then sucked in the swollen shiny purplish bulb into her mouth, although just the crown, her lips wrapped tightly around the lip of the crown, so that she could fully appreciate its size, its presence, its manliness, as her tongue licked and lapped at the dick slit, encouraging the boy to finally release his seed.

She was a bit apprehensive. After all, she had never tasted cum before, not even in her dreams, not even when Jason left puddles on her breasts or face. That had always seemed to be going too far. Prior to her sessions with Jason she would have even shuddered in disgust at such an idea, but her prior abhorrence was now only a nervous apprehension. What would it be like? What would it taste like? Feel like? Would she be able to take it all?

She didn't have long to find out.

Jason could again feel that rise, that sign of the sudden inevitable explosion. It was really difficult to imagine that he was about to cum in Mrs. Johnson's mouth. What boy had dared imagine that before? Yet it was in fact quite real, and indeed about to happen. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and gave himself over to his base pleasure, to his climax, to his orgasm that swept over him like a tidal wave of primal bliss, coursing through his body in paroxysmic surges, his dick exploding into the mouth of the mother of his girlfriend.

As the first splat hit directly on her tongue Mrs. Johnson closed her eyes as well. She quickly shifted her tongue out of the way of the squirting, spurting hose, receiving the next few blasts deeper into her mouth, but then just as quickly moving her tongue back, wanting to feel and taste his cum as soon and as fresh as possible, like a puppy lapping away at the end of a violently squirting hose rather than drinking from the puddles that would eventually form, preferring instead the sparkling, succulent libation fresh from the tap.

She was not disappointed. The boy did have quite a bit to offer. Her mouth quickly filled, the corners of her cheeks filling up, her tongue thoroughly globbed over. But she didn't mind. It just felt so nice, and tasted so much better. She wondered if the sperm of a younger man tasted better than an older man. That would likely be true wouldn't it? Fruit fresh off the tree is so much juicier, tastier than the fruit that has aged, shipped across hundreds of miles, stored in boxes.

Of course, this cum was still flavored with a bit of the juice of the lemon, Mrs. Johnson's favorite. She would have to tell her daughter to try this some day, not only to have Jason fill her mouth with his cum, but perhaps to mix it with a bit of lemon as well. Mother's do always like to pass on their recipes to their daughters.

She struggled to her feet, her mouth filled with his thick, sticky gruel.

Jason felt a bit embarrassed. He often did after an orgasm, wondering if perhaps he was somehow perverse or base.

But, there was little time to think of that now and, besides, he still felt physically pretty darned good. Bliss was such a wonderful state of mind, and body. He slipped his softening penis back into his boxers, and zipped up.

"Yousth bsther gth." Her articulation was shot, as her mouth was still filled with Jason's gooey cum. She just waved him on, and followed him in with the tray holding the pitcher and glasses.

As she walked into the room, she heard "1, 2, 3; 1, 2, 3." Marcia, Bud's date, was counting out the steps at the dance. She didn't know how to dance herself, and so Bud never did have anything to worry about. Mrs. Johnson had to admit that it was a cute episode.

Mr. Johnson saw his wife struggling with a mouth full of something. "My goodness, dear, have you been sucking a sour lemon?"

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

Mrs. Johnson was over her guilt, at least for awhile. Perhaps it was because she had been duly punished: her mouth washed out for using such filthy language. It was not washed with the soap that her own mother had used, but it was certainly comparable to what Jason had received from her. She had perhaps learned her lesson. Of course, she had not found the washing to be actually punitive, but sometimes one learns from reward rather than punishment.

Jason was again invited to come to her back door. They did have quite a few more positions to cover. Mrs. Johnson had covered only 11 positions (if one counted missionary), and so there were (at least) 89 more to go. Plus, she noted that Jason hadn't been taking any notes. She sorely doubted that he would remember them all. Jason was a good boy. He was hard working, reliable, and conscientious. But, still, he was not a gifted scholar, and she knew that they would need to go over some of the positions a second, perhaps even a third time if he was to learn them well, to reach his full capacity as the best man for her daughter.

She wasn't even dressed when he arrived, other than a bathrobe and slippers. Of course, she only peeked around the door as she opened it. It would not look good for her to be seen by Mrs. Holliday in her bathrobe, letting Jason in through her back door.

"Jason, you're on time! Such a good boy!"

"Thank-you, Mrs. Johnson." It would be a real faux pas to keep your girlfriend's mother waiting. "Did you want me to fix something?" He felt it best to keep up the pretext for the visits.

Mrs. Johnson smiled. She didn't even offer him any lemonade, milk, or cookies. She just turned her back and began walking away, assuming that he would follow. Of course, she did encourage him by removing her robe as she strolled, letting it fall to the floor, revealing to his eyes that she was entirely naked.

She giggled as she scampered across the tiled kitchen floor, her naked feet making little pattering sounds. She had never actually been naked on the first floor before. There had never been any cause or reason to do so, and it was rather scandalous, as well as titillating. As she entered the living room she glanced through the bay window out onto the front yard, sidewalk, and street as she made her way through to the stairway, tittering with excitement, her heart racing. What if Mrs. Holliday happened to be walking along the sidewalk right now? How scandalous that would be, being seen naked in your home, and on the first floor! Of course, even worse if anyone happened to notice the boy trailing along a few feet behind her.

Jason quickly caught up, as the sight of Mrs. Johnson's naked bottom swaying back and forth was quite the carrot, and terribly provocative. He could even see a bit of her hair peeking out from between her thighs.

It was particularly nice when Mrs. Johnson reached the stairway. He paused at that point, wanting her to get a bit more distance on him to get the full advantage of watching that bottom sashay and sway as she made her way up the stairs. There is something about climbing stairs that does wonders to the appeal of a woman's bottom. It just takes on so many different poses, and so many of them so appealing, so sexy, so suggestive.

When she reached the top of the stairs he bolted up the steps to catch up, but she had herself scampered down the hall, giggling as she went. However, once she had a good distance on him she stopped, ostensibly to pick something up. "My goodness," she said, "What is this?" She bent all the way over, keeping her legs as stiff and straight as possible, about as stiff and straight as his cock was becoming in his boxers. As she bent over her bottom took on the shape of a lusciously round, full heart, the cheeks curving up to the left and right, the dip in the center, the crack down the middle, coming to the point of her cunt. It was really quite spectacular, as both her rosebud and cunt were on full display.

"Land sakes, I just vacuumed this rug. I must have missed this," she said, picking up some sort of undetectable piece of lint. With her face still close to the floor she looked back at Jason and said, "I just hope you don't think poorly of me, Jason, as a mother, for having such a dirty carpet."

Jason was frozen in his tracks, standing as stiffly as his cock. "No, ma'am," he replied.

"You forgive me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he softly replied.

"You won't give me a spanking, will you?"

He didn't reply to that question. He sure as heck would like to do that. Goodness, imagine being able to spank the bottom of your attractive future mother-in-law. That would be memorable.

Mrs. Johnson giggled. "You won't tell Jim about this, will you?"

He would answer that. "Oh no, ma'am, no, no, I won't do that."

She smiled flirtatiously. "That's good. It'll just be our little secret," she said, as she stood back up straight, her jugs bobbling with her movement. "Now, be a dear and get out of those clothes. We have a lot of work to do before Bridget comes home," and she turned to slip into her bedroom.

Jason began to tear the clothes from his body, tossing them aside as he followed her in. He was still working on his pants and boxers when he entered the bedroom. He pulled them off in a rush, sat down on the carpeted floor, and ripped off his shoes and socks, not even bothering to undo the laces.

"My, my, what an eager boy," she observed. "Teachers do appreciate when their students are so enthusiastic. Are you like this in all of your classes?"

Jason hesitated. He wasn't too sure how best to answer that. Of course, he didn't want to suggest that he was more interested in real classes than in having sex with Mrs. Johnson; on the other hand, he knew from Bridget that Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were not terribly pleased with his less than stellar performance at college. "Um, yea, sure, Mrs. Johnson."

Mrs. Johnson shook her finger at the boy and in doing so, her breasts as well. "Now, Mrs. Johnson can tell when you're not being truthful young man. And for that, I think the first position will be 'Drive-Thru.'"

"'Drive-Thru?'" He had no idea what that meant.

Mrs. Johnson had already planned to start with this position. The fact that he had been so obviously duplicitous really didn't impact her decision. There was in fact another reason for her selection. "I think it's an appropriate position anyway, given the help I provided for you in the kitchen."

She had indeed been very helpful. He couldn't argue with that.

"Now, you just sit there on the floor, cross legged."

He did as she instructed, no longer feeling that terribly self-conscious about his erection poking up. After all, she had seen it quite a few times now, and had even given him a blow job. He was in fact feeling rather proud of his stiff dick, knowing that it had provided so much satisfaction for her so many times. He leaned back with his hands on the floor and smile proudly as it jutted up in the air.

"My, my, my," she said, "I see the young man is quite awake and alert, isn't he."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, a big grin on his face.

Mrs. Johnson strode up to him, her full breasts waving and wobbling in the air before him, her cunt getting closer and closer. He figured that she was probably going to sit right down on him, crouch down on him and fuck him like that. His cock so yearned for that hot, wet, womanly cunt.

But, Mrs. Johnson did not sit down, or even crouch down. She instead strode up to Jason, positioned her feet on either side of his body, near his hands, thereby positioning her cunt right in front of his face.