Johnson Institute Ch. 01

Abraham said, "Yeah, at least until Martin and his mom get here."

A few minutes later, in leggings and a leotard, Yovanna entered the room, stood behind her son, kneaded his shoulders. Abraham was glad for his loose-fitting shorts.

* * * * *

Dropping her head back, her thick dark hair fanning out behind her head, Yovanna said to Sarah, "I can't recall the last time I worked out this hard."

"Me neither, it's been years."

The two twenty-somethings who'd been in the steam room when they'd arrived stood, said, "That's enough for us, Happy Thanksgiving," and headed for the door.

Sarah said, "Happy Thanksgiving," adding without missing a beat as the door closed behind them, "Those two were checking out our sons."

"Do you blame them. Our brilliant boys are suddenly quite the hunks, and there is something else about them, a maturity. Abe, I mean Abraham, even got his father to help clean up after the meal."

Laughing Sarah said, "I guess miracles happen in pairs. Martin did the same with his father. Y'know, I was noticing. Our boys' clothes don't look quite right on those delicious new bods. Why don't we take them shopping? Dress up our men. Just the four of us. It would be fun."

* * * * *

Abraham said, "Damn, I didn't know our moms had it in them."

Martin said, "I know what you mean, I had to bust my butt to keep up with mine."

Abraham laughed, said, "Yeah, I noticed you showing off for her."

"And you weren't doing the same?"

"Well, maybe a little."

The door to the steam room opened, three men entered. Abraham and Martin shelved the topic, but both thought the same thing: yeah, they'd been showing off, but why not, Mom was hot.

* * * * *

That night Sarah, sitting next to Martin, her hand on his leg, said to her husband, "You should have seen your son at the gym today; he was amazing. Yovanna and I've noticed our boys clothes don't fit them quite right anymore, too many muscles. We're taking them shopping tomorrow."

Martin said, "It was Mom who was amazing. You should have seen her go."

Sarah said, "Thanks dear, but you were the star of the show."

Feeling excluded by and a little miffed by this mutual admiration society, impulsively wanting to show he still had it, Martin Sr. said, "Really son, you ready to arm wrestle your old man for the house championship?"

"C'mon Dad, no, I don't want to arm wrestle you."

Sarah ran a finger down her son's arm and said, "Go ahead, I want to see."

"See son, your mother wants to know who's the man of the house."

Reluctant Martin sat across from his father and cocked his arm. Not wanting to humiliate him, he didn't immediately drive his father's arm onto the table, although his effortless resistance of his father's initial push amply demonstrated his dominance.

Sarah kissed her victorious son while Martin Sr. shook his hand and said, "Damn son, have fun shopping. I'll invite Abe Sr. over tomorrow to watch the games."

* * * * *

Sarah lay in bed, a book open before her, her mind on her son. He was funny, smart, sweet, and attentive, yet so masculine, why couldn't her husband...

Her thoughts were interrupted when the shower turned off and Marty Sr. stepped out. How many times had she asked him to dry himself in the shower instead of dripping all over the bathroom floor for her to clean up?

She watched him run a towel over his body. God, he'd let himself go. When younger he'd been nicely built although, she thought, never as nicely as her son.

He stuffed the towel over its bar - why couldn't he fold it? - struggled to put on his pyjamas, crawled into bed, and still smarting over his arm wrestling defeat said, "Maybe I should go with you and Martin to the gym tomorrow."

"That would be great dear. We plan to get there when it opens at 7:00 A.M."

Instantly deflated he said, "That's kinda early. Maybe I'll have Martin devise a work-out plan for me."

"I'm sure he'd love to."

That Thanksgiving night, as mothers slept, the virus invaded and modified their remaining mitochondrial DNA.

* * * * *

After the gym mothers and sons returned home, showered, then Yovanna, rendezvousing at Sarah's, found her friend standing before her bedroom mirror in leggings, a red shirt, and short heels that accented her trim body and long legs.

"Looking good girl."

Preening, running her hands through her brown hair, Sarah said, "You think so? I want to look my best for my boy and wow, do you look great."

Wearing a green dress that emphasized her bust and curves Yovanna said, "Thanks. I think Abraham likes, he took a second look. Now let's get the boys."

They found them in the television room with their fathers. Their minds on their mothers, they'd looked good at the gym, looked good now, they pumped pheromones into a room suffused with them. They were absorbed by the rug, the drapes, the furniture, everyone's clothes.

* * * * *

They shopped, showed off their young men, dressed them up, checked out their butts and shoulders in their new clothing, ran hands on hard bodies to ensure perfect fits, and were heading home when Sarah said, "I'm hungry. How 'bout Thai?"

Martin said, "How about Dad?"

"There's leftovers, and if he doesn't think of them I can whip up a turkey sandwich."

* * * * *

They sat in a booth, Abraham next to his mother, Martin next to his. Fingers brushed, arms touched, hands were laid on shoulders, compliments were passed freely. The ladies tossed and twiddled their hair. Sons, eyes fixed on their mothers, wet their lips. When the pretty waitress addressed them as couples no one bothered to correct her. The boys, mothers leaning into them, slid their legs over to press them to their mothers.

At meal's end, while the boys paid, the ladies retreated to the bathroom, attended to hair and make-up, gossiped about the beautiful young men their sons had become. They slipped their arms into their sons as they left the restaurant, delighted when the boys opened their car doors for them.

* * * * *

Back home Sarah and Yovanna brought their husbands turkey sandwiches, who paid more attention to the food and television than to their wives and sons sitting together manufacturing pheromones en masse.

During a commercial Martin said, "After the gym tomorrow why don't we all go to the French Quarter. It's the Saturday after Thanksgiving, there'll be a ton of stuff going on."

Knowing her husband would decline Sarah happily chimed in, "That sounds like fun."

Marty Sr., uninterested in playing third wheel to his wife and son said, "I'm not sure I'm up for it. What do you think Abe?"

Abe, Sr., thinking the same, said, "Yeah. Why don't you four go. We old farts will hang here and watch television."

Martin said, "Well in that case why don't we run down to the store. Abraham and I will treat our favorite dads to a bottle of the good whiskey."

Digging his hand into his pocket for his keys Marty Sr. said, "That sounds great."

"Dad, I'll drive. You've had a few beers."

Abraham said, "He's right Mr. Sage."

Marty Sr. glanced at Abe Sr., who, looking at his own son, said nothing, then at his wife who said, "He's right dear," and in a move unprecedented tossed his keys to his son with a peevish, "Okay."

* * * * *

In bed that night Sarah said, "First thing in the morning apologize to Martin and Abraham. They were only looking out for you when they insisted on driving."

In a whinny voice lacking all conviction Marty Sr. said, "Well, I did give Martin the keys."

"Yes you did dear, but only after showing some attitude. That's no way to treat a man, especially one who's right and minding your best interests."

Marty Sr. started to object, but realizing she was right and he wrong knew that was no way to treat a man. His son deserved respect.

"You're right, I'll do it."

Later that night, husbands snoring, Yovanna and Sarah got out of bed, went to check on their handsome sons, had unwholesome thoughts, spent the night in their guest bedrooms, where dreams were intense, explicit, incestuous.

* * * * *

After their early morning work-out, back at home, Sarah put on a long-sleeved white tee short enough to show her mid-drift, spandex white shorts that stopped a few inches north of her knees, and white sneakers. Yovanna, arriving from her home, walked in and said, "Nice butt girl."

Sarah turned, eyed her friend, and seeing how Yovanna's jeans and tank top made the most of her pear-shaped figure and perfect bust, said, "Looking damn good yourself. Was Abraham appreciative?"

Yovanna said, "Yeah, I noticed him checking me out."

* * * * *

While the mothers got ready upstairs the fathers asked their sons to join them in the den where Marty Sr. vainly tried to hold his son's implacable stare before dropping his eyes and, playing with his hands, said, "I owe you both an apology. When you offered to drive last night I was snippy. I was embarrassed about my condition. I was also disrespectful. I should have just handed you the keys."

Abe Sr. said, "Yes, I also owe you both an apology."

Martin leaned forward, placed a hand on his father's shoulder, and said, "Apology accepted. I didn't want you making a foolish mistake, something you'd regret in the future."

Abraham added, "That's right Dad, were just looking out after you."

As fathers thanked sons mothers walked in and Yovanna said, "If you're all done with your man talk, may we ladies enter?"

Abraham and Martin stood, kissed their mothers' cheeks, circled arms around their waists, and said, "Beautiful women are always welcome here."

Mothers sat with their sons and the six chatted for a few polite minutes before the game began.

* * * * *

They wandered the French Quarter listening to street musicians, leaning into each, holding hands. If you studied them you'd see the age difference, but you wouldn't dwell on it. After all, if you were a guy you'd be too busy admiring the women, their choice of clothes expertly emphasizing their charms. If a woman the two young men would be your focus. As to the age difference, who hasn't fantasized about a good-looking younger man and a hot older woman?

Later, after beignets and coffee au lai, as Amanda Shaw and the Cute Guys played on stage, the four of them settled on the levee. Sons' heads rested on mothers' thighs, mothers stroked sons' faces and hair. Sons took mothers' hands in their own, kissed them, reached up, touched mothers' lips and faces, saw "Yes" in their eyes.

The kisses, tempered by the in-grained reluctance of people who, until a few days ago, had never imagined this moment, were at first tentative. But as their bodies responded to the genetic re-programming the kisses became hotter, longer, unrestrained. Supple lips enveloped and caressed; bold tongues explored stroked dueled danced.

On the way home, holding each other, they were quiet, contemplating the enormity of what was about to happen.

* * * * *

Marty Sr. and Abe Sr. were happily inebriated. As the women straightened up the room Abraham and Martin got an apologetic Marty Sr. to his feet and upstairs to the guest bedroom. He was snoring before they pulled the shoes from his feet.

On the way back down Martin said to his friend, "Do you want me to follow you home, help get your Dad into the house?"

"I'll be fine, our guest bedroom is on the first floor near the garage. If you'd help get him into the car I'd appreciate it."

* * * * *

As Abraham backed out of the drive way, her husband snoring in the back seat, Yovanna unzipped her son's pants, hauled out his dick. He was big. Her head disappeared from view.

Waving goodbye Sarah slipped an arm around her son's waist and said, "Where'd you put your father?"

"The guest bedroom."

"Good, because I want our first time to be in his bed."

* * * * *

Straddling her legs Martin moved over his mother, settled down, his chest on her breasts, his penis on her sex. They kissed, tongues slipping on and over each other.

Sarah curled her leg around Martin, reached down, brushed his erection. Martin moaned, slid down her body, said, "It's only been a couple of weeks since I learned how to do this," planted soft kisses on her inner thighs, edged closer to the wet heat at her center.

Craving her son's mouth on her sex, sure, despite his claim of rookie status, that he'd be magnificent, Sarah grabbed the back of his head and said, "Stop playing around."

Saying, "Yes mother," Martin's tongue uncurled and its tip traced his mother's pussy and labial lips, then the clitoral hood. A long in-drawn breath hissing from between her teeth Sarah slid her fingers into her son's hair and Martin closed his lips over the clitoral hood, pulled back, stretching it until it slipped free, then delivered random hard laps, flicks, and licks around and over his mother's clit.

"Oh god son, oh yes, so good, oh yes, oh yessss, oh yessssss."

Emboldened, Martin's pinky followed the flow of juice from her cunt to the cleft of her buttocks. When the muscles of her ass tightened instinctively Sarah, wanting to encourage her son, moaned and his pinky continued its journey. With his free hand Martin spread his mother's labial lips, licked her hard, bottom to top. Sarah cried out and Martin sucked her clitoris between his lips, shook his head. Sarah trembled, lifted her hips into her son's mouth.

Looking up into her brown eyes Martin delivered a long slow hard lick to her clit, pushed his tongue into her pussy, slurped it in and out of his mother's most sacred recess, rolled his thumb on her swollen exposed clit.

She moaned, held her son with both hands, said, "Oh oh oh, you're going to make me come. You're going to make your mother come."

His tongue found an inexhaustible source of energy; his thumb applied a force to her clit that would have been painful when they started but was now exactly what she needed; his pinky massaged her sphincter.

Sarah considered her husband, a perfectly nice man, and knew he'd accept what she now knew: she was made for her son.

And with that thought she let go. Her scream of release reverberating through the room, her body twisting and undulating, she held tight to her son's head as he ate her through one powerful orgasm after another, a pleasure intense, all-consuming, a wonderful exquisite agony. Then, back arching, she screamed again as the final orgasm erupted within her. She flopped up into a half-sitting position, collapsed back onto the bed.

Martin pushed himself up onto his elbows. His face glistened with his mother's juice.

Sarah weakly slipped a finger into her sex and said, "Son I need the monster between your legs inside me. I'm nice and wet, which is good, but I've never had one that big. Take it easy."

He took it easy; they fucked deep into the night.

* * * * *

Standing by the bed she'd long shared with her husband Yovanna, having performed a striptease for her son, pulled Abraham's shirt over his head, tossed it to the side, slipped a finger through his open fly, caressed his cock, said, "There's lubricant on the night stand."

Abraham slid his pants and underwear down and Yovanna' eyes widened. In the dark of the car it had looked huge, felt huge, but with the lights shining bright it was fricking immense. My god was he hung. She looked to his face, smiled, said, "Sure it'll fit?"

Abraham dropped his head, kissed his mother, enjoyed the lingering taste of coffee and beignets, said, "This thing was made for your body, but I'll be careful," kissed her again, eased a finger inside her. Her deeply aroused sex slick and juicy, his finger moved easily inside her. He slid it in and out, eased her back onto the bed, rubbed her clitoral hood, let a thick dollop of spit fall from his mouth onto her sex, then, lining up index and middle fingers pushed them into her vagina, held them there as he stroked her taut tummy with his free hand. Abraham looked at the vaginal lips wrapped tight on his fingers. His cock, longing to be inside her, throbbed. He spread the fingers inside her, twisted them.

Yovanna brought her knees to her chest. Her pelvis tilted back, her labia spread open, Abraham saw the pink knot of her asshole between her soft butt cheeks and laid down to lap the crinkled pink opening.

Her son was licking her asshole. It felt good, it felt dirty. Her son was sawing his fingers in and out of her cunt, rimming her ass. Yovanna squealed, "Ohhhhhh...;" she'd never been this aroused.

"Play with yourself Mom."

Resting her feet on his shoulders Yovanna rubbed circles around her clit.

"That's a good girl, play with your sweet sex."

Thick heavy juice leaked from her; her tight butthole flowered open on her son's tongue, and pussy spasming, panting and moaning, Yovanna came. Abraham pulled his fingers from her tight twat, covered her sex, and she sailed through another orgasm.

His mother lay there, skin aglow, breathing slow. Abraham kissed and licked the dark nipples of her full round breasts, said, "You're so pretty when you come Mom," stood, picked up the tube of lubricant on the night stand. Yovanna studied his arms, strong shoulders, tight muscular butt, abs, and most of all the long thick erection between his legs. A few months ago he'd been her little boy, a science nerd with a science nerd's body; now he was the sexiest most attractive man she'd ever laid eyes on. She felt safe with him, trusted him. He treated her right, like the sexy woman she was.

Soon she'd be more than his mother; she'd be his woman.

Yovanna sat up, looked at his swollen manhood, studied the thick long shaft, the plum-shaped head glistening with pre-cum, the heavy swinging balls, the thick unruly pubic hair. She wanted to taste him, take that giant cock into her mouth. She leaned forward, wrapped her fingers on it, and eyes shining said, "Can I lick it?"

Standing beside the bed Abraham said, "Please do," and holding her thick dark hair aside watched his mother's pink tongue snake along his swollen cock-head, lap up pre-cum like a hungry kitten at a bowl of milk. Once it was coated with saliva she wrapped her full lips around the head, laboriously stretched her jaw, and with a push forced it into her mouth. She sucked noisily, tattooing the head with her small quick tongue.

Loving it, but wanting more, Abraham slid his cock from her mouth and as his mother pouted adorably he squeezed lubricant onto his palm, slathered his thick cock, said, "Why don't you lie down."

When she did Abraham pulled her bottom to the edge of the bed, placed her ankles on his shoulders, crouched so his cock was level with her vagina, rocked forward. His dick, slippery with lubricant, slid across her belly and with his balls nestled on her pussy lips mother and son saw exactly how deeply he'd penetrate her. Abraham was concerned - it was going to be a tight fit. Yovanna was thrilled. While her son would not be her first, he'd go places, visit parts of her, no one had before. It would be like losing her virginity a second time.

Abraham said, "Mom, spread your legs a bit more," Yovanna did and Abraham grabbed his cock and rubbed the thick slippery head up and down from clit to hole, then deciding a little more lubricant couldn't hurt smeared a handful on the face of her sex, pushed some inside her.

Wanting that monster Yovanna said, "I'm ready," grasped him, moved the head to her vagina, took a deep breath, forced the fat tip against her opening, pushed some more, easing the plum-sized head inside her until, with a pop, he was wedged within her.

Yovanna's eyes rolled back in her head, she sucked in a quick hard breath, held it. This horse-cock was going to split her poor pussy open.

Martin said, "Are you okay Mom?"

Through gritted teeth Yovanna whispered, "Son, you're so big, so much bigger than your father. I've never felt anything like it. I need it inside me, I won't be complete until you're inside me, until you spill your seed inside me."