Tom Allison

Spread wider, mom

CHAPTER ONE

"Unhh! Oh, fuck, that feels good! Gonna cum! Ahhh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

Emily stood outside her son's bedroom door, brushing her long, blonde hair away from her pink-flushed cheeks as she listened to what was going on inside. Paul was jacking off again. It was midnight, and he'd already beat off twice since dinner. Emily felt amazed and horrified that her son could have such an uncontrollable obsession with stroking his cock.

It had begun after the divorce, three months before. It was possible, for all Emily knew, that her son had been a compulsive masturbator for years, but the presence of his father in the house had apparently inhibited him from doing it so brazenly. Now it was as if he just didn't care how obvious it was.

Every time he started jacking off, his headboard started thumping against the wall so loudly that it was impossible not to know what he was doing. And two minutes after the thumping stopped, Paul would prance downstairs without even washing his hands. Emily was horrified to see the obvious cum stains on his pants and shining stickily on his fingers. She'd stared at him as coldly as she could, but Paul didn't seem to notice or care. Frequently he didn't even say hello to her now when he came home from school. He's just dash upstairs with a giant hard-on sticking through his pants, and then the thumping sound would start up a minute later.

And the worst part, Emily thought, was that she was now sure that her son was occasionally thinking about her when he played with himself. A month before she'd carelessly gone downstairs without a bra under a tight sweater.

Emily's tits were extremely large for her slender, girlish frame, and men ogled her tits horribly. But it had seemed harmless to dress as she pleased around her own son.

Paul had been in the living room that time. His eyes had riveted immediately to his mom's giant, firm tits darting from her slim waist to the fat nubs of her large, rubbery nipples protruding through the fabric. His cock had started growing in his pants, and then he'd excused himself to run upstairs and beat off again.

That had only been the first time. Emily had lost track of the times her son had made flimsy excuses to ogle her body. If she wore tight pants, she would catch him staring at her pert, rounded ass. If she wore a dress, he would stare at her legs. Nearly a dozen times now he'd barged into her room without knocking, in the hope of glimpsing his own mother in the raw. Once he'd caught her naked except for her bikini panties. Paul had apologized, staring straight at her huge tits, but that night Emily had heard the obscene thumping sound a six times in a row.

"Ungghhh!" The sound from the other side of the door was louder than ever. "Ungghh! Gonna aim!"

This is disgusting, Emily thought furiously.