BIG FAT COCK: Double Penetration Fun

"Don't be late for school, young man," Mom said to me, shifting rather effortlessly into her mothering role.

"Yes, Mother," I said.

"I've already gotten a couple of calls from your school about tardiness and an unexcused absence," Mom pointed out.

"Sorry, some of that is likely my fault," Ms. Chan apologized.

"My new school is right here," I announced. "I mean I've learned more in this kitchen in a couple of weeks than I have in school all year."

"I imagine that's true," Mom said with a soft laugh. "But you can't allow your grades to drop and to lose scholarships because you're getting laid all the time."

"Yes, Mom," I nodded, knowing she was right, but added, "but for the record, I'm usually the one doing the fucking."

"Of course you are," she smirked before she turned and walked out.

"So back to our conversation before Mom so rudely interrupted us with her desire to be fucked like a horny slut," I quipped.

"I know: the nerve of her," Ms. Chan replied deadpan.

"So how do I be both a dominant master and a caring protector?" I asked.

"First of all, by understanding your own needs," she said.

"How so?" I asked, that reply not at all what I'd expected to hear.

"What do you want from this newfound relationship with your mother?"

"I'm not sure," I answered, this question making me begin to reflect on the question, I guess for the first time.

"Think about it," she encouraged me. "Sure, there was the rush of seduction, the thrill of the conquest and the adrenaline of doing the very thing that almost every son in the world fantasizes about doing at some point."

"Okay," I nodded, all three of those points definitely true.

"But now what?" she asked. Three simple words, yet no apparent answer.

"That's what I'm asking you," I pointed out, getting just the slightest bit annoyed at her questions without answers.

"It's not my question to answer: you need to find your own answer to my original question," my guru of sex deflected, "what do you want in this relationship?"

After a long pause as I pondered this simple yet complex question, I offered, not because I thought it was the best answer, but more like brainstorming to get one thought out there in hopes it might pave the way for a better one, "I want to have my cake and fuck it too."

She laughed, "Cute, but that doesn't really answer the question."

"Okay," I said, trying out a more serious approach. "I want her to be my slut, but also to be my mother."

"Both of which I witnessed some of this morning."

"But I also want to protect her from herself."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, I'm very concerned that her submissive side could get her into trouble at work if she can't control it," I said. "And if she did, I'd feel responsible. Hell, at this point I think I'd even be responsible."

"She seems to be doing a pretty good job so far," Ms. Chan pointed out.

"I guess," I said, not sure I was explaining it properly. "But my Dad never shied away from putting her at risk, and she told me she never refused him until she'd finally had enough, and she stood up on her hind legs and insisted on a divorce. During the past two days she's never denied me anything, either."

"Kevy, that tells me you're both responsible for her and not responsible. You're responsible for never going out of your way to put her at risk, but you're not responsible for every decision she makes. But in addition, and this is important, you need to be her base, her foundation, the rock she can cling to for security. Remember when I told you sex was about connection, intimacy and desire? What I meant was that a woman needs all three of those essentials if she's going to be balanced. That's why even after a wild fuck fest... when a woman has been dominated, sodomized and a load of cum is still leaking out of her ass... she still wants to cuddle and maybe to talk," she explained.

"And even though an important part of your role in keeping her happy is ordering her to perform extreme sexual acts, to stretch her boundaries, at the same time she must always feel she can tell you anything at all without being judged. Which, by the way, is a favour you cannot allow her to return to you, at least not fully. Although if it helps, you can always tell me anything.

"And your mother is at the pinnacle of your caring and concern; if you aren't going to behave like your Dad and be totally self-centered, the other women you relate to will also need chances to express themselves to you and to benefit from your guidance. Although in their cases (and in my own case since this is definitely present company included), the level of your responsibility will vary as you judge what is best for both you and for them. And you needn't do all of this perfectly, especially as you learn the ropes; you just need to keep your eyes open, learn from your mistakes and do what you can to correct them. I'll be very happy to advise you as you go along, just as I've been doing."

"I see," I said, as a lightbulb went on inside my head. "So what I think you're saying is that one main difference between men and women is the aftermath of sex. For women I don't care about like Mrs. Dieks, I can just dump my load and leave, although even for her not always; but for the women I care more about such as Mrs. Grady, there needs to be a deeper connection."

"Yes, the most basic human need is to be wanted," Ms. Chan continued "And that need applies to everything. Certainly a woman wants to be perceived as sexy and alluring, but she also wants to be needed. Your mother is the rare woman who has the opportunity to get it all from one person... and that person is you. But she can't receive those things if you don't give them to her... and I mean all of them."

"And how do I do that?" I asked, knowing that was exactly what I wanted: to be my mother's everything.

"Well, the sex side is obvious, and it appears you're doing a bang-up job there," she said, smiling at her own playful pun.

"I'll just keep banging away until I've perfected it," I quipped back, going along with her pun.

"I know you will," she nodded with a warm smile. "But she also needs to be needed in her maternal role as a mother. She needs you to need her in that very different role. She's not just some bimbo slut, no matter how much you both enjoy that role for her; she's also a wise, nurturing, strong woman who's raised you well, so she still needs you to lean on her when that's appropriate. But like I said about her returning the favour, you can't lean on her totally: if you ever fell completely apart in front of her, it might shatter her world. I think that last point is true, anyway. She might instead astound the hell out of us both and be a pillar of strength for her beloved son: who can ever tell for certain about such things?"

"I see," I nodded, most of that making perfect sense to me, especially the first part. Mom needed to balance these two very different, clearly contradictory sides, and I not only needed to allow that, but to go out of my way to help her do it. Which seemed to mean paradoxically that in order to be strong for her, sometimes I needed to be weak and vulnerable; but not too much so.

She continued, somehow reading my mind, "Achieving the balance is the tough part, especially when your sexual urges are so strong and virile at your age."

"I'm always horny," I agreed.

She looked down at my hard cock, "That's part of your charm, at least for some of us. But for your mother you'll need to learn to understand her needs, her desires and her own complexities."

"That's what I'm not sure about."

"Remember my telling you about mental sexuality?"

"Kind of," I said, having heard, but not necessarily absorbed, so much thought-provoking information from her.

"The mental part is different for men and women. For men it's a 'let's do it' thing, you're stimulated simply by being. I mean, you'll get hard from a cool breeze," she explained teasingly.

"I will not," I protested.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved at me. "You get turned on by almost anything."

"Okay, I'll give you that: it is tough to argue," I agreed after a moment's thought.

"As I mentioned before, for women it's the act itself that excites us. We get pleasure from pleasing others, since our psyche is controlled by the sexual act itself. Sucking cock isn't primarily about the sensations of sucking cock, at its core it's about giving pleasure to someone else, about giving one's self to the act or to the man. It's about fulfilling a natural hierarchy created by the Lord himself to serve as a caregiver for another. This could also apply when it's between two women. The point is that women, by nature, by evolution, by creation, were born to please," she summed up, as if this were just the way it is and has always been.

"All women?"

"Well, I'm grossly overgeneralizing in order to make my point, and there are exceptions to every rule, and at the moment I'm talking more about the inner woman than whether someone has a vagina or not, and everyone has at least some feminine traits on the inside so this applies in varying degrees to everyone. But disclaimers aside, what I'm describing applies pretty much to most women, and it absolutely applies both to your mother and to me," she said, "if that's as clear as mud," as she poured herself another cup of coffee... black coffee... a cue that it was almost time for me to supply her with the homemade cream she liked so much.

"I see."

"Now women are stimulated by visuals too," she continued. "Your big fat cock is an appealing visual for a woman that stirs a fire inside, a fire that we often can't control. Sure, we try. But the truth is that the more we deny our own inner carnal lust, the more miserable we become. The women you find who are the most miserable on the one hand or complete bitches on the other are almost always sexually unsatisfied or repressed, even if they don't realise that's the cause of their unhappiness."

"You should host your own talk show: 'Sex Talk'," I only kind of joked.

"That would be a stimulating job," she deadpanned. God, she was a funny woman.

"On that note, where's your inner carnal lust level right now?" I asked, having pretty much recovered from my recent orgasm and feeling ready to make a second morning deposit.

"On a scale from one to ten: seventeen," she quipped, just before I slid my cock in her mouth.

Ten minutes later I deposited a load into her open mouth, which she then spit into her coffee mug.

"I'm bringing you supper tonight," I said.

"You really don't have to," she said, as she sipped her cum-flavoured coffee.

"What's your favourite food?" I asked.

"Chinese of course," she smiled.

"Not American sausage?" I asked.

"That's more of a snack."

"I've never been more insulted in my life," I faked outrage.

"But a snack I could enjoy a few times a day," she soothed.

"It is low on calories," I tossed back to her, as I put my pants on.

"You're going to be late again."

"It's too bad I can't tell my teacher why."

"Is your teacher a man or a woman?"

"A woman."

"Then why not? Perhaps not in front of the class, but you could try whipping out that one-eyed monster you show to me all the time," she smiled. "I imagine she'd understand immediately."

"Something worth considering," I laughed, wondering if it could really be that easy. I mean up until now it had been, yet my test cases had been a carefully selected few (selected by my Dad), so I still wasn't at all confident about my own ability to seduce anyone from a standing start. Having proud possession of a big, fat cock was only a seductive weapon if the woman knew about it.

"Trust me," she assured me. "She'd be on her knees begging for it."

"That I'd like to see," I said, thinking of Mrs. Camden, a larger Latina woman, with a wide butt and a cute face. The idea of her babbling incoherently in Spanish as I plunged into her ass was kind of hot.

"So would I," she replied.

As it happened, it was Mrs. Camden's class that I was only five minutes late for this time, and then I spent most the hour wondering what her lips would look like wrapped around my cock. Wondering what it would feel like to drill her big backdoor booty. She always dressed in a skirt that showcased her wide ass, but never nylons. That would have to change should she become my slut.

The day was uneventful, although I couldn't help but admire (not in a sexual way this time) Heather, who in English class recited a poem she'd written about gender equality. A few kids snickered, a couple of them whispered lesbian; most weren't even listening, but I saw her as being so brave.

Heather was considered a wallflower by most people in the school. She didn't play sports, she wasn't a cheerleader, she got marks as high as mine. Yet I saw her as far braver than any of them. Even though the poem expressed the fear of coming out in a sexist, shallow world, I didn't think she was a lesbian, although there was no evidence to support the idea either that she wasn't, or that she was straight. Mostly I just hoped probably selfishly, that she was straight.

I couldn't explain it, but I was drawn to her. Partly because she was smart and was in all my advanced classes; partly because she clearly shared my resentment of the jock mentality of our school; partly because she was a sweet girl who seemed to be nice to everyone, even the ones who weren't so nice to her; partly because she stood up for what she believed in; partly just because she was so darn cute. It also didn't hurt that she often wore what looked to be pantyhose to school, a rarity in a school of over a thousand students, where even the teachers seldom wore them.

As I daydreamed about her somewhat, I thought it would be cool to have a partner in crime as I solved injustices by making rich bitches, cheerleaders and stuck-up jocks become cock hungry sluts for my big fat cock. Fat chance of that happening though because so far as I knew, she didn't even date.

The only other particular moment of intrigue that day was when Ms. Watson asked if I would tutor Amber. Amber was the blondest, dumbest cheerleader in the world... the one who could be the poster girl for every blonde joke ever coined. I tried to repel the idea, but Ms. Watson said it would look good on my resumé, and she would owe me a favour (my first thought was My big fat cock in that pretty pussy-licking mouth of yours), so I reluctantly agreed... and plans were made for Amber to come to my house the next afternoon, which was a Saturday.

The day ended, I went to the bookstore and purchased the book I'd had them order for Ms. Chan, then I returned home and waited for Mom. I giftwrapped the book, inscribed a gift card ("Happy birthday to my guru of life") and waited for the clock to do its job.

When Mom texted me she was heading home, I ordered Chinese food to be delivered to Ms. Chan's house at 5:30.

I texted back to Mom: Bring the toy you bought that we forgot to use this morning.

Mom responded: Will do. I also got a couple other things.

I asked: What?

Mom responded: You'll have to wait and see. I have a wicked idea. I was glad to see this sign that even when we were playing, she didn't always feel she had to be submissive.

So I strolled over to Ms. Chan's with the wrapped present a little before 5:30. I walked in and found her watching a soap opera. I joked, "Watching those suds will rot your brain."

"Too late," she smiled, then as I handed her the gift she objected, "you shouldn't have."

"Of course I should have," I responded, as she opened the envelope.

She read the card and said, "Of only life?"

"All sex is a part of life," I pointed out, wondering if my truism sounded Zen enough.

"You're learning, Grasshopper," she smiled.

"Thank you, sex sensei," I responded, placing my hands together and bowing slightly, martial arts Silat style.

"And I'm also your cum-craving cock-sucking servant," she countered.

"Of course," I laughed, as she unwrapped the book.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she asked as she saw the title.

"I'm foreshadowing the rest of your birthday present," I said. The book I'd bought her was "Regain That Feeling: Secrets to Sexual Self-Discovery".

"Really?"

"Sensei, you were born to be a three-hole slut. And you can't fulfil that destiny without trusting someone to help you," I said, sounding helpful and like a pervert both at once.

"Food's here," Mom called out from the front door.

"To be continued," I said.

So we ate dinner chatting festively about inconsequentials, and Ms. Chan blew out candles from the cheesecake Mom had bought.

It was Mom who then announced, "Birthday girl, it's time for the rest of your present."

"I'm not so sure about this," Ms. Chan said nervously and looking unsure, which was both adorable and heartbreaking at once. She was such a strong woman, she was continually giving me such amazingly helpful advice, and yet she was insecure within her own body.

"Tonight, I'm in charge, Yu Yan," I claimed.

"What? How could you know to call me that? No one calls me Yu Yan anymore," she said, surprised.

"Three hours of chasing down Google leads. That is your real name, correct?" I asked.

"Yes, it is," she nodded.

"And its meaning is so apt," I assured her.

"What does Yu Yan mean?" Mom asked.

"Woman with a beautiful smile," I revealed.

"Then you're aptly named indeed," Mom agreed.

"You two are so sweet," Yu Yan said, blushing like a schoolgirl.

"As are my cunt and my son's cum," Mom interjected, killing the precious moment.

"Can't argue with that," Ms. Chan laughed.

"Now open your first present," Mom ordered, handing her a wrapped box.

"How many are there?" Yu Yan asked.

"Two," Mom answered.

Yu Yan opened the present and examined the strange head cock contraption. "Believe it or not, I'm not completely sure what this is for."

"It's to fuck me with," Mom answered, before adding, "while my son fucks my asshole."

"Aaaahhh," Ms. Chan nodded, turning it around in her hands and looking at it more closely. "It goes over my mouth doesn't it?"

"It does," Mom nodded, strapping it onto Ms. Chan's face.

"That looks really weird, but so hot," I said.

"Get naked, son," Mom ordered, as she began doing the same.

"I thought I was in charge," I mock objected, as I did as Mom requested.

"Today we tag team our slut," Mom said, her earlier concerns clearly gone.

"Our slut?" I asked, now naked, and Mom wearing only a black garter-belt and stockings.

"We need to begin gathering our own collection of sluts," Mom informed me.

"An additional form of mom and son bonding," I joked.

"Indeed," Mom agreed with a smirk, as she rolled Ms. Chan in her wheelchair into the living room. "Yu Yan, I suspect you're a switch, am I correct?"

"I can be, although I'm definitely much more a submissive. I assume tonight I am to address you as my Mistress, am I correct, Mistress?"

"For now, yes. Good girl," Mom replied, completing the formalities.

"Mom, I'm still not sure where you're going with this," I said.

"Oh, you'll see," Mom answered evasively, as she rolled our pet's wheelchair to the back of a couch.

I still wasn't sure what Mom was envisioning here, but she ordered me, "Kevin, go stand on the couch. On the cushions."

I did as she instructed, and then watched as she sat herself on the backrest of the couch from the far side straddling the wheelchair, settled her feet on its wide arms and asked, "Son, can you steady me so I don't fall backwards, and pull the plug out of my asshole?"

"The things I do for you," I sighed, as I braced one hand against the small of her back and reached down with the other to pull it out, in awe of the position she was trying for. I looked around for someplace to dispose of the plug, and smirked as I reached over to deposit it in an empty candy dish on a side table next to the couch.