Big Fat Cock: A Hot Mommy Seduced

I know it's a terrible simile, but it was as if she were a cock sucking washing machine with extra suds.

She would bob down, move back up and her tongue would then swirl around my cockhead, and then repeat... the entire time somehow producing this crazy oxymoron: an abundance of wetness, and yet her lips were like a suction cup.

Although I had enjoyed Portia's mouth bobbing on my cock and she'd made me cum like crazy, she was clearly an amateur compared to Ms. Chan.

Not surprisingly, in no time her masterful lips and tongue had my balls boiling like a volcano about to erupt.

And like said volcano, when the eruption hit, it was a massive explosion. I warned her just seconds before blast off, respecting her more than I did Portia, "I'm about to come."

Her response was nonverbal as she simply shifted into full speed suction bobbing.

She milked my cock, and a few more bobs were all it took for my warm cream to be deposited into her mouth, even as I wondered if I should have pulled out and given her the homemade cream in her coffee.

She easily swallowed my load, her bobbing not slowing down at all. When I was finally completely drained, she slowed down and leisurely bobbed for a couple more minutes, reluctant to part company with my sacred cock.

When she finally removed me from her mouth, the first thing she said was, "Delicious!"

I began tucking myself away, but she stopped me. "No, leave it out. We can talk for a while, but you still owe me the taste of Round Two.

"Do you really enjoy the taste of cum?" I asked.

"It's my favourite snack," she said in the afterglow, still relishing the taste of mine and licking her lips.

"I read somewhere it was salty, tart and gooey," I said, having done some research on the taste of male and female cum.

"It can be all those things, but for me it's more addicting than chocolate," she answered.

"I see," I said.

"But moving on. Do you want some advice?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, curious about what kind of advice she'd be able to give me.

"You could be more confident," she told me succinctly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You're too nice," she added.

"And nice guys don't get the girls?"

"Correct. Not at your age," she agreed.

"My Dad gets the hottest women, and he's a complete asshole," I pointed out.

"It's the nature of the beast," she said, giving my exposed cock a playful tug, "literally."

"Do all girls like assholes?" I asked, still not understanding the psychology of why women would go for disrespectful jerks. Maybe Ms. Chan could enlighten me on this mystifying enigma.

She sighed ever so slightly. "Truthfully, it's pathetically simple. Most women, and please keep in mind I'm stereotyping here, live a parallel existence to a man's."

"How so?" I asked, going to a chair and sitting down, my cock still on display, although Little Kevy seemed content to rest for now.

"First, women want it all. A good and caring husband who can provide for her and the kids, as well as a great sex life where the man understands her needs," she began.

"Of course," I nodded.

"Unfortunately, more often than not, a good, loving, caring man can't give her the sex life she desires, no matter how badly he might want to."

"Why not?"

"He loves his wife and puts her on a pedestal," she explained.

"And that's a bad thing?" I asked, getting more confused.

"At most times no, that's what women want," she continued, "but in the bedroom they often want the opposite."

"I'm not comprehending this at all," I said, feeling more than a bit slow. This must be what all those annoying football jocks must feel like in math class or when reading Shakespeare.

"I'm not doing a good job here," she admitted. "Okay, so have you ever heard the saying that a man wants a wife who is a lady in the parlour but a freak in the bed?"

"No," I admitted.

"Regardless, women are like that. They want to be treated like a princess in public and a submissive slut in the bedroom," she finally clarified.

"All women?" I asked.

"Almost all," she answered, "although many won't admit it or ever let themselves succumb to their internal, carnal lust because they think it's not dignified, or it would be a hundred steps backwards for the feminist movement."

"I wouldn't believe any of this if I hadn't learned my Mom's secret," I admitted, as I processed this. "Do you know she still allows my Dad to fuck her? She can't even stand him, but apparently all he has to do is whip it out and she turns into a needy slut. That's not like her!" This was something I normally wouldn't tell anyone in the world, but Ms. Chan had always been like a mentor to me (although never a sexual one until now) and she'd assured me many times over the years that all my secrets were safe with her.

"Yes, so your father has told me. Juggling their expectations against their needs is a frustrating conundrum for many women, what they want almost always being at odds with what society expects from them as they try to decipher all the complex hats they're expected to wear."

"Hats?"

"Yes, it's a lame metaphor, but there are so many mixed messages given to women from a very young age," she continued.

"Barbies," I joked.

"For starters," she nodded. "Girls are supposed to be cute, wear dresses, let men open doors for them, and yet also to be independent. Growing up female is full of oxymorons."

"I never thought of it that way," I admitted.

"Why would you?" she says, "you live in a parallel male universe where you're supposed to hide your feelings, never cry and always man up... you have different rules you're supposed to follow but they're still nonsensical rules, and the only real difference between the societal trap you're stuck in and a woman's, is that you have a more privileged status."

"I've never seen myself as privileged," I said, although I agreed with the male expectations bullshit, and was beginning to grasp the idea of different rules but same trap.

"You're white and male," she pointed out.

"I guess," I said, having thought we'd moved past this sexist, racist hierarchy by now, although that was obviously a foolish thought.

"Trust me. I'm Asian, female and disabled," she explained, not in a woe-is-me way, but as simple facts.

"I don't see you using any of that as a crutch," I appraised, "although you're always polite, you're also very assertive," always having thought she was one of the strongest women I knew, after my Mom.

"No, I try to avoid crutches, except for my unavoidable wheelchair," she agreed, then continuing with, "I'm just trying to explain how the world works. It's still easier to be a man than a woman, as the men primarily hold the power."

"In my world I see the opposite," I said, thinking of the entitled cheerleaders.

"I can see why you would. But if you'd let a few girls know what you're packing, you would ascend in the hierarchy very quickly," she said.

"But how does that happen?" I asked,

"Ay, there's the rub."

"Quoting Shakespeare," I smiled.

"I try," she shrugged. "Women want to enjoy sex, but they get derailed by the idea they're supposed to be this sophisticated, evolved woman."

"How did you eschew it?" I asked.

"Nice SAT word," she smiled.

"I try," I shrugged with a smile. I like this woman! And even though she just finished sucking my cock, she really understands things.

"I'm Asian," she continued, "and we are decades behind Westerners in the women's equality movement. And at least on the surface it appears we are naturally more submissive, although I'm not sure if that's because of our DNA or because of the long, ingrained history of female expectations by Asian men," she answered.

"So women are naturally submissive, naturally sluts (not meaning that in a bad way), but they resist that role because of societal expectations," I said, rephrasing her main idea. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly. And the same idea goes for incest," she continued.

"Pardon?" I stammered. "How did incest get into this conversation?"

"It all ties in with our sexual needs conflicting with society's dictates. In Asia, incest is more common. Daughters often please their fathers and mothers, and later on they often use their sexuality to motivate their sons," she explained as if this were common sense.

"I wish," I joked.

"I assume you want to fuck your Mother, which is why I brought up incest," she said, seeing through my joke.

"I plead the fifth," I said.

"It's a natural drive," she said as if she were the Dr. Ruth of incest. "You have spent your entire life admiring her, even if you didn't realize it. Plus, incest is just a label. To be truthful, I'm surprised we haven't moved on from the outmoded stigma that it's inherently wrong."

"Really?"

"Sure, what person do you love the most in the whole world?" she asked.

"Emilia Clarke," I joked, Emilia recently named the hottest woman in the world.

"Smart ass," she said.

"Actually that term is dumb, as nobody's ass is smart; unless by ass you mean donkey, but they're smarter than horses, so in that case the term is redundant," I pointed out.

"This is why you're single," she informed me. "You're a nerd."

"Touché," I agreed.

"So I'll repeat the question. Who do you love the most?"

"My Mom, of course," I answered.

"And you would do anything for her, right?"

"Of course."

"And what better way to show her your love than by giving her pleasure?" she asked, even though the question seemed rhetorical.

"Seems logical," I agreed. I mean, any thought promoting my hope of fucking my Mom was something I could agree with.

"So why the stigma about incest?"

"The law."

"Fuck the law. It's made by white, uptight men who cheat on their wives or suck other men off in glory holes," she said.

"That statement took a turn," I laughed.

"Just saying, the most pompous self-righteous assholes are often the most morally corrupt."

"Tough to argue," I said. "After a pause, I asked, "Have you ever committed incest, no offense?"

"Kevy, you can always ask me whatever you want, and I'll never take offense. But to answer your question, I've enjoyed incest many times: once when my Mother got sick, so I had to take over her role of submissive pleaser," she explained. "It was the first time I ever felt close to my emotionally distant father."

"Wow, that's so kinky!"

"Don't judge me for that, when you yourself want to become a Mother fucker and your kinky Asian friend wants to help you to succeed," she said wickedly.

"Ms. Chang, language," I mockingly acted shocked.

"Language be fucked. Now get over here and face fuck my mouth," she ordered with a grin. "Time to start your training to become a man."

"So you want to be my slut?" I asked, as I stood back up, my cock hard and ready to deposit load two.

"I want you to use me as your cum deposit, your submissive cum bucket, and your Asian MILF slut," she listed off, each term making my hard cock flinch. "Right now I don't want your respect; I want your cock, your dominance, and your hot load all over my face."

"I think I can do that," I said, as I slid my cock in her mouth and began bucking my hips.

Last time she worshipped my cock and gave me a blow job... last time she was in charge.

This time I was.

I started slowly, sliding half my cock in and out of her mouth.

It felt weird to face fuck Ms. Chan. Part of me wanted to face fuck her roughly like I had Portia, the other part of me saw her as the sweet lady down the street.

After a couple minutes of slow pumping, I felt her hands on my ass, and she pulled me into her mouth until she was balls deep around my cock.

She held my crotch against her face for what felt like an eternity, but which was likely only fifteen seconds before she let go and backed off.

"Am I your cum slut or your prissy girlfriend?" she demanded, saliva dripping off her chin.

"Cum slut," I answered.

"Then take control, buster. Use my mouth for your pleasure. Face fuck me and fill my mouth until your balls bounce off my chin. If I gag, keep going. Be the man who knows what he wants and takes it," she instructed, easily the most surreal lesson of my life.

"Okay," I said, sliding my cock back into her mouth, trying to draw out the inner dominant I knew I had in there somewhere.

I began truly face fucking her, sliding my pole in and out of her mouth rapidly. Each forward thrust went deeper into her mouth.

Her slobbering sounds excited me as she easily took my cock in her mouth, while still creating this turbulent ocean of saliva that enhanced the pleasure exponentially.

Trying to be like some of the dominant men I watched in porn, I pulled out and asked, "What do you want, slut?"

She smiled, "That's better."

I loved hearing that, but tapped her mouth with my cock, "Answer the question, my personal MILF whore."

"I want you to face fuck me as hard as you can and shoot your cum down my throat," she answered.

"And what if I want to come all over your pretty face?" I asked.

"You're in charge, Master," she answered, as she ripped open her blouse, a button flying, "shoot that big load of cum wherever the fuck you want."

"Show me those tits," I ordered.

"You can come on these, too," she offered, as she ripped off her bra to show me her small breasts.

"Don't think I won't. Now suck my cock like the porn slut you wish you could be," I ordered.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned, as she took my cock in her mouth and devoured my cock, deep throating me with each forward bob.

"Oh yes slut, take it all," I groaned, impressed by her ability.

And for a few minutes she sucked me constantly, never slowing down.

Finally I was close and knew where the load was going. I waited until the very last second, pulled out and exploded all over her face.

She opened her mouth to catch some of my cum there as I sprayed her forehead, nose, lips, chin and tits. Fucking exhilarating! Didn't know I had it in me!

Once I was done, she leaned forward and took my cock back in her mouth, nursing out all the last remnants of cum lingering inside.

When she stopped a couple of minutes later, she said approvingly, slut gone, mentor returned, "That was much better."

"It took me a while to get there: I respect you," I admitted.

"And I appreciate that," she nodded. "Actually, you have the potential to be that rare man."

"Which one?"

"A nice guy in public and a dominant in the bedroom," she said.

"Or the living room," I joked.

"Or any room you like, boss man," she grinned, looking so hot with cum spattered all over her face.

"You're staring at my cum-coated face," she said.

"It looks so hot," I admitted.

"Well, you can paint it that way anytime you wish," she promised.

"I plan to keep you to that," I said, as I finally stored my cock away.

"You'd better," she said. "I expect at least a load a day."

"I hear it keeps the doctor away," I joked.

"You may need to work on your humour," she sighed.

"You love it," I said.

She squeezed my cock through my pants, "Yes I do."

'You're insatiable," I laughed.

"I can never get enough cum," she shrugged.

"Luckily, I have a lot of loads a day," I said.

"Mmmmmmm," she smiled, as I then helped put her groceries away before heading home.

I got home and Mom was making supper, "You're later than usual."

"Ms. Chan needed me to help with her dinner," I said, amused at my sly response.

"Oh? What is she having?" she asked, gazing at her legs in attractive black nylons.

"Sausage and cream," I said, before adding, not sure how to word it, "with corn." Ms. Chan was right, I need to work on my humour.

"That's a strange meal," she said. "No salad?"

"She did have this warm glaze she was using," I added, feeling really proud of my innuendos.

"Well, we're having sloppy Joes," she said.

"Great," I said, it being one of my favourite meals.

We finished supper and I asked, "Mom, why do you let Dad treat you so badly?"

"I don't," she said, even as her cheeks went red.

"Mom, he's a complete asshole to you," I said.

"It's who he is," she defended him. "I can't change him."

"But you act differently around him," I pointed out.

"How so?" she asked.

"Well, every time he's around, you aren't yourself," I said vaguely.

"He does exhaust me," she admitted.

"And you often look dishevelled," I pointed out.

"Do I?"

"Yes, even your cheeks get red," I said. "Does he hit you?"

"What? No!" she denied, "he would never do that."

"Oh, good," I said, "I just wouldn't want him to treat you disrespectfully."

"Well, I can't deny he does that," she confessed. "Like I said, it's who he is."

"Why do you even allow him to come around?"

"For you."

"For me?"

"Yes, he wants to have a relationship with you, and I agree with him that it's important," she explained, adding, "especially since he's finally getting interested in your life."

"He is?"

"Yes, he called today asking if you were free, weekend after next."

"He did?"

"Yeah, on your phone," she said. "You left it home."

"Aaah," I said.

"So I told him you'd call him back," she said.

"Okay," I said, "I will."

"Your Dad didn't say anything about me over the weekend, did he?" she asked, looking worried.

"No, why?" I lied.

"Nothing," she said, as if she were about to say more.

"Mom, I love you," I said, going around the table to her, pulling her up from her chair and giving her a hug.

"I love you too, honey," she said, giving just the slightest hint of a sigh.

After a moment, I told her, "Go, I'll do the dishes."

"You're a sweetheart," she said lovingly.

I did the dishes and called Dad.

"Hey, Dad, you called?" I asked.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go and tour Harvard in November," he said.

"I'd love to," I said.

"Good, we can do a school tour and then a slut tour," he said.

"Sounds like fun," I said. "Will Portia be there?"

"Yep, and some of her friends," he said, before adding, "and she's already told them about you."

"Oh," I said.

"Yep, you may be very busy that weekend," he predicted.

"Well, I'd better get going on my own conquest," I replied.

"You really are a Walsh," he approved. After a minute, "I'll pick you up after school."

"Okay, thanks," I said, and he hung up.

Well, that meant I had less than two weeks to seduce someone... and that someone I had decided... would be Mom.

Thursday, October 25th: Day 4 of Project Mother Fucker

Wednesday was pretty uneventful, just school and homework and a pleasant evening doing not much with my Mom. Then Thursday morning I went to Ms. Chan's and deposited a load in her coffee after a great ten-minute blow job, then as she sipped her cum-flavoured coffee I asked, "How do I get girls to know about my special package?"

"Well, word of mouth will eventually be the way," she said, "pun intended."

I laughed, "But how do I get my cock in their mouths in the first place?"

"Well, your Dad's method was unorthodox, but most of the time it worked."

"What was his method?"

"Believe it or not, he just whipped out his dick one day and asked if I was hungry."

"No way."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I was shocked at first, but his cock was just so big and fat I couldn't resist. It helped that I'm a cum addict and I was craving it even before he made his ummm... 'generous offer.'"

"I'm not convinced that would work for me."

"You could first practice the move on someone receptive."

"Like whom?"

"Well, Mrs. Dieks was a regular when he still lived here, so was Ms. Swanson and Mrs. Sinclair, and both Mrs. Grady and her college-aged daughter," she listed.

"No way," I said. Ms. Swanson was an anchor for the local news channel and not completely unbelievable and Mrs. Dieks I'd already assumed, but the other two were wild. For one, Mrs. Sinclair was in her seventies, and Mrs. Grady and her daughter were black, which wasn't the surprise, actually it was a fantasy of mine to be with a black woman, but Mr. Grady was a church minister... had he been the church minister Dad had referred to as fucking both his mother and daughter during a sermon? O...M...G! I know, not a term I've ever used in my life, but it suddenly seemed like the right time to roll it out.