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SUMMARY: This story is about a mother who has a circle of “friends” who are extremely judgmental and critical. For some unknown reason, she desperately wants to “fit in” and be a part of this group of spiteful women. But her son tries her patience over and over again with his exploits. Even today, the day of his graduation, her son pulls a stunt that threatens to mar her reputation, so she has to take matters into her own hands to keep her friends from finding out.
This story was written by request from a friend. The general concept was given to me, and then I wrote the story.
All characters in this story are 18 or older.
DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction. Any character resemblances to real life personae are strictly coincidental. Copying, re-posting, storing (whether digitally or in print form) or redistribution of this material is prohibited.
STORY:
“Your son sure is getting handsy down there, Beatrice,” Mindi said, sounding her usual carping self.
Her words made me whip my head up, irritation already brewing in the pit of my stomach. With a quick glance toward the bleachers just to the left of the large stage that had been erected on the football field, I ran my eyes over the throngs of students milling about. The second I spotted my son, my cheeks immediately heated up. At almost nineteen-years-old, Logan was one of the tallest among his peers, just over six feet. He had wavy brown hair that hung to his shoulders, unruly looking as usual. He got the color from his dad, but the waviness was from me. My own hair was sandy blonde and hung to my shoulder blades. Staring daggers at my son, I watched as he leaned close to a girl standing near him. She was blonde too, of course, and even from this distance I could tell she was a bimbo. God damnit, Logan. I swear to god, if you embarrass me today, I will strangle you!
The blonde bimbo laughed and I watched my son grin at her. The little bastard. Not now of all times! My son was, without a doubt, a womanizer. He was good looking enough to attract just about anyone. And he had always been a troublemaker. His father and I had grounded him so many times during high school, it was a wonder how he even had time to make friends. Although it was no real surprise that he was flirting with a girl just then, it still infuriated me. The blonde girl laughed again and put her hand on my son’s back. For the love of god, keep your junk in your pants, Logan!
The students finally settled onto the bleachers and the ceremony looked like it was about to begin. Today was graduation day. Somehow Logan had made it, despite some very sketchy periods during his sophomore and junior years when we thought he might need to be held back. Just earlier this year, my son had gotten involved with a college girl, and his licentious behavior had nearly earned him a suspension! Oh, did my circle of friends have a field day with that. They only knew about the incident because the girl he slept with happened to be the daughter of the mayor’s cousin. And her mouth seemed to be as loose as her pussy, the little slut.
My “friends” were a catty group of pretentious women who almost one-for-one came from wealth. Or at least they had married into it. As for me, my husband was far from wealthy, but we had enough to feel comfortable with our lifestyle. And based on the company I kept, most just assumed we had money. How I had managed to infiltrate this particular group of women was beyond me, but I was loathe to let it go. And so our personal finances had become one more thing that I worked desperately to keep hidden from them. I didn’t need yet another piece of ammunition for them to use to defame me.
The women I sat with were busy gossiping on either side of me, but I was mostly tuning them out. Despite my undeniable attraction to being accepted as a member of this little group of women, I secretly despised gossip. And I certainly wasn’t in the mood for it today. Not after the morning I had gone through. I just wanted to get through with the ceremony with our reputation intact and leave without any incidents. Any further incidents, that is. A little damage had already been done by the sheer fact that my malefic friend had been the one to point out my son’s flirtatious behavior while he waited for graduation to start.
There was no doubt that Logan was the primary contributor to the tenuous state of my reputation. Sure, they judged me by the car I drove–a Honda Civic, in case you’re wondering–but I had long since handled their consideration with that by playing the eco-friendly card. I never dared invite any of them over to my house. The second one of these judgy females stepped foot beyond the threshold of my front door, they would know the truth about my financial situation. But as hard as I worked to “fit in” with these hypercritical ladies, it was near impossible to keep my son in check when he was outside of my immediate control.
The marching band started to play Pomp and Circumstance just as my mind started replaying Denizli Escort the events from just a few hours earlier, stoking an inner rage I had been fighting ever since. It was eleven in the morning and my son was still taking a shower. He knew we had to leave, yet he had been in there for over an hour. I remember getting frustrated that we were going to be late. (Unsurprisingly, being late to something like graduation was yet another piece of gossip I knew my friends would use against me.) The graduation ceremony wasn’t for another two hours, but between traffic and parking and all the dress, it was going to be tight no matter what.
When the clock hit the eleven fifteen mark, I couldn’t take it. In a huff, I walked down to the kitchen and opened the silverware drawer. Digging out a butter knife, I headed back the way I came, down the hall to the bathroom door. Quickly using the flat edge of the knife to jimmy the lock, I pushed the door open and froze.
Logan was standing in front of the big mirror on the wall next to the shower stall, completely naked. My eyes went wide as I took in the scene. The shower was still running and the room was filled with hot, thick steam. It was almost hard to breathe. My son’s towel lay in a crumpled heap at his feet while he stared at his naked self.
But the thing that really brought on the rage within me was not the fact that he had the shower running, wasting water. Nor was it the fact that he was staring at himself in the mirror, apparently admiring his own muscular body. The thing that pissed me off was the fact that he was stroking himself while he watched in the mirror. His cock was easily eight inches long–considerably larger than his father’s. I knew my son had a big penis, but I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen it fully erect. Maybe never.
Once the shock wore off, I shook my head and immediately put a scowl on my face and marched up to my son. Pulling back my arm, I let it rip and smacked him hard on the ass to get his attention. His body jumped in startlement and then he glanced at my reflection in the mirror, eyes opening wide.
“What the ever-living fuck, Logan?” I demanded, unable to keep the anger from my voice. This was the thing he felt compelled to do when he knew we were on a time crunch?
“Sorry mom,” he muttered. But the little bastard was still stroking himself!
With a growl, I reached down and grabbed hold of the hand he was stroking himself with and yanked it to the side, forcing him to let go. I felt his muscles resisting at first, as if he was trying to get back to his cock and finish what he started. Was he serious right now? But when his eyes met mine, the resistance visibly drained from him and then he hung his head in shame. I didn’t believe it, but I accepted it since he wasn’t trying to latch back onto his wanker for the moment.
“Get your ass dressed and ready to go in three minutes,” I said, my voice cold with anger.
He nodded and said, “Ok.” He sounded slightly abashed, but I still didn’t buy the act.
Something one of my friends said tugged me out of my reverie and back to the present. “What was that?” I asked, my eyes trying to focus on my surroundings. I was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable bench in the football stadium of my son’s school. Yeah. Graduation. That’s right. I focused on Linda who had said something that caught my ear.
Linda turned her head toward me with a nasty smirk on her face. As I said, all of my friends were extremely judgmental and catty, but Linda was by far the worst of the bunch. It was surprising to me that her name wasn’t Karen. Her voice dripped with derision as she said, “I just wonder, Beatrice. Wherever could your young Logan be?” She lifted her hand to her face as soon as the words were out and I could tell she was pretending to “hide” her smile. Fucking bitch.
But what she said quickly sank in and my heart stopped beating for a second. Oh fuck. My head snapped up and once again, I found myself scanning the students for my son. Swinging my eyes left and right all up and down the rows of bleachers, Logan was nowhere in sight. Fury erupted in my head as I continued to sweep my head back and forth across the row of graduates, seeking the blonde bimbo from earlier. I couldn’t see her anywhere, either. God damn him. God damn her. Fucking teenagers. Horny fucking dipshit asshole mother fucking teenagers!
Growling, I stood abruptly, knocking over Linda’s purse in the process. She scowled at me, but I ignored her. There would be a small requite to pay for my unladylike behavior, but I could care less at the moment. If my son was doing what I thought he was doing, and any of these cats found out–fuck my life. I literally felt the color draining from my face as I scampered to the stairs at the far end of the bleachers, then ran down them. I would have taken two steps at a time if I could have managed it in heels. But the last thing I needed was an image painted for all these onlookers of me faceplanting Denizli Escort Bayan myself onto the football field just as the graduation ceremony was starting. Come to think of it, the music had stopped.
Eyes wide, I glanced toward the stage and watched as the principal took his place behind the microphone standing in the center. Fuck me. He was about to start! I had to find my son. If he missed his name being called, I was never going to hear the end of it. A cold fury brewed within me as I whipped around the bottom railing of the bleachers, heading away from the football field. I had a hunch where I might find him. It was a place he had been caught fucking girls three times in the past.
I considered taking off my heels so I could sprint but decided to leave them on for fear of marring my reputation further if I ran into someone I knew. And so, I walked at an awkward trot along the sidewalk that led toward the back of the school where the equipment building was located. The school kept all the outdoor gym and sports equipment there, but there was no office within, so unless someone needed something for a specific reason, there was never anyone around the building. (I knew all of this because I had attended this high school myself, over twenty years ago.)
Rounding the back corner toward where I knew the main entrance of the building was, I skidded to a halt. Oh fuck. Fuck me, no! I realized I was out of breath from a combination of the wild, bubbling fear in my stomach and the brisk pace I had set. Placing a hand on the golden-colored brick of the building, I stared at a scene from a nightmare that was taking place not fifteen feet in front of me.
Logan was there, and so was that blonde bimbo. They both had their graduation gowns on, but they were hiked up to reveal two very naked teens beneath the fabric. The blonde was on all fours, looking the other way from where I was standing. My son was on his knees right behind her, between her legs. And he was completely going to town on the young girl, railing her like they were someplace private. I was so stunned and out of breath, I couldn’t even move for a few seconds. I just watched in horror as my son plunged himself into the girl over and over again. From where I stood, all I could see was Logan’s naked ass, but it was enough.
When I was finally able to move, I stormed toward them. My head felt so hot from anger, it was a wonder my hair didn’t catch fire. “LOGAN SULLIVAN!” I cried his name as I drew closer. “Stop this fucking madness right now!!” I hissed as I reached them. I really hoped to god my voice didn’t carry far enough for anyone attending the graduation to hear, but I was so pissed that I barely gave it a second thought.
Both teens looked over their shoulders toward me at the same time. The girl at least had the good grace to seem abashed, her cheeks turning bright pink as her eyes widened. My son, the little fucker, was a lot more audacious. He slowed but got in several more thrusts while I stood right next to him. I felt such a rage surge through me that I pushed at his shoulder and heard a very satisfying slurping sound as his cock exited the bimbo’s vagina.
When I looked down at the girl, I saw that she was sobbing. A lot. Reaching down, I yanked her graduation gown down over her ass and swatted at it. Then I whispered in a fury, “Go get the fuck back to your seat, you little whore!” She didn’t even hesitate. The girl stood and then stumbled away and around the corner of the equipment house.
Rounding myself toward my son, he finally had a look of chagrin as he stood up straight, towering over me. “And you!” I whispered sharply. I couldn’t afford to have anyone hear me shouting at him. Taking a step closer, until I was right in front of him, I craned my neck up to look him in the eyes as I said, “You have exactly five seconds to get your sorry ass back to the field and onto those benches, or there’s going to be hell to pay!”
Logan nodded at me slowly but then he looked down, his eyes moving past my face. He stood a good half a foot taller than me and the way he was staring, for a second I thought he was trying to look down my shirt. What the fuck? But then I realized he was looking past my chest. Unable to resist looking myself, I glanced down to see what had grabbed his attention. Oh fuck. My son’s erection was jutting straight out, pushing against the fabric of his graduation gown. There was no fucking way he was going to be able to hide that.
“For Christ’s sake, Logan. You’re seriously going to be the death of me. You need to handle that thing. Get rid of it,” I said, my eyes transfixed by it. I felt a wave of revulsion about the whole situation. All I could hear in my head was the ridicule my friends would shame me with if word of this got out, or if by some wicked twist of fate they actually saw him tenting his gown.
“Uhh, how the fuck am I supposed to do that?” My son asked, voice full of teenage back talk.
“Language!” I yelled, although Escort Denizli all things considered, my son’s use of a swear word was the least of my concerns. “How do you think?” I asked after a second, leaning closer to him and trying to appear intimidating. It was hard to do considering the huge height difference, despite my four-inch heels.
Logan’s cheeks colored and he looked around like a trapped animal. “I guess I could go find a bathroom–“
Just then, I realized I could hear the faint echoing voice of the principal as he called out student names. Oh fuck! The official diploma disbursement had started!
Feeling a frantic need to handle the situation, I felt myself moving before my mind fully processed what I was doing. With one hand, I deftly grabbed the lower hem of my son’s gown and lifted it just enough that I could reach up underneath. I almost gasped in shock when my fingers bumped against his still-erect penis. It felt extremely hot against the cool flesh of my hand. But the shock wasn’t enough to back down. With a growl that came from the back of my throat, I wrapped my fingers around my son’s teenage cock. Jesus, the thing felt huge in my hand!
Logan made a wild yelp, immediately scrambling to pull away from me, but I clamped my fingers tightly around his shaft and he froze in place at my obvious threat. I would squeeze it so hard he would howl in pain if he tried to pull away again. I was so angry right at that moment, I knew I would do it, too.
“Mom??” he cried out, voice sounding strangled.
For some reason his protest had a strange effect on me. I was pissed. Extremely pissed. Furious, actually. But as I stood there, holding my son’s rock-hard penis beneath his graduation gown, all I could think about was just how ruined I would be if one of my friends should happen to come waltzing around the corner of the building and see us standing there. God damn my son for putting me in this position! Yet for some god forsaken reason, I felt an overwhelming need to see this thing through. Not that I found myself attracted to my son or anything like that. No. It was more the feeling of power I suddenly found myself in possession of.
And so, I began stroking Logan’s cock.
My son started to struggle again at my unexpected movement. I told myself his resistance wasn’t because he didn’t want me to do it, though. That despite his ineffective protests, he was actually enjoying it. However, in less than a minute, I felt the rigid shaft between my fingers begin to soften. My son was losing his erection.
In hindsight, I should have stopped right then. The purpose of what I was doing had apparently already been accomplished. My son’s boner was disappearing. But somehow, my mind barraged me with a million thoughts, concepts and images in the span of a few short heartbeats. It was a dichotomy in my head, and I knew it. On the one hand, the thought of my friends knowing what my son had been doing filled me with dread and anger, mixed together. And then there was the scorn I knew I’d receive if they had even an inkling of the fact that I was vigorously wanking my son, and in such a public place no less! I knew I should put a stop to this madness, but something had ahold of me that I couldn’t shake. I felt a little insane.
And then there was the dichotomy. The idea that I had started this thing and wasn’t woman enough to see it to the bitter end. Somehow the thought of my friends laughing at me– and ridiculing the fact that I couldn’t even make a little boy cum– made me furious.
Like a possessed demon, I put everything into masturbating my son. I drew upon years of experience with my husband, and boys from high school and college before that. I drew upon long forgotten techniques as I loosened my grip just so, letting the palm of my hand glide rapidly up and down my son’s shaft. His cock felt silky soft against my skin. It was almost mesmerizing.
I suddenly noticed that Logan was no longer making any sounds of protest, and he wasn’t struggling anymore. A quick glance up at his face showed me what I had been hoping for. My son was in rapture.
With a start, I realized I could feel his penis expanding once more, growing taut in my delicate fingers as I continued to stroke him. Yes, that’s a good boy, I thought to myself. Cum for mommy. Cum in mommy’s hand. I stroked him gently, yet vigorously. My fingers glided along his shaft, up and down two times a second. He started to sway on his feet. Oh baby, very good, my thoughts continued to speak to me. Dirty thoughts. Yes my dear boy, get it all out so you can go accept your diploma–
Suddenly the principal’s voice drifted into my ear. He called the name of someone I didn’t know. But I felt panic well up within me. The last name he had just called sounded like “Palmer”. Oh fucking hell! I had no idea how many more students were left before he called my son’s name, but there couldn’t be that many.
Speeding up my stroking, I stared at Logan’s eight-inch cock while my hand went to town on it. The head was shiny from the skin being stretched so tight. As my hand flew up and down its length, the tiny slit at the tip of it kept opening and closing, like it was gasping for air. My own body was rigid with determination while I vigorously tried to get my son off.