It was 9pm on a Sunday night as Delia Dickinson bent down to load bedsheets into the washer.
Again.
Again and again, day after day. She was going to have to say something to him; this was getting ridiculous.
Right on cue he came into the kitchen behind her.
“Washing again, Mum?”
Yes, Freddie, washing again. Your bedding. Again.
She tossed a detergent sachet into the drum.
“Because it’s soi…” she checked herself mid-sentence, took a breath, and without turning round, she started again.
“Look, love, I get it. You’re a red-blooded young man, and at eighteen it’s only natural that you produce a lot of, er,” she paused, looking for the right word, “well, a lot of fluids, and of course I know it’s not healthy for them to build up in your, er, inside you, so I know they need to be, er, released. I get that.”
He didn’t reply, but she sensed that he’d moved a step closer behind her.
“But it’s just that, well, does it have to be released all over the bedsheets? Every night?”
“Oh, Mum, sorry I don’t mean to make work for you.”
She felt the lightest touch on her hip.
“But it’s not on purpose. It’s not like I’m having a wank all over the bed every night.”
Unbidden – forbidden – the image popped into her head; her teenage son stark naked on his bed with both hands around his massive cock as the jets of sperm erupted from his bulbous purple tip.
“It just kinda happens in my sleep.”
“In your sleep? Really?”
“I have really graphic sex dreams, and when I’m just about to cum, I wake up. I’ve kicked off the duvet, and I’m lying on my back with my hands stretched out above my head, and my cock is rock hard, twitching and bouncing, and it’s too late, Mum, it’s too late to stop it. It spurts out like a fountain onto my chest and into my face and then all over the bedding, giant pumps of thick, hot sperm.”
Delia swallowed hard. She was frozen to the spot, still bent over in front of the machine.
He seemed to have come even closer behind her.
“Oh, I see. Good gracious. I think that’s called a wet dream.”
“Yes, Mummy, very wet, soaking wet. There’s so much of it.”
“What’s she like, the er, the girl in the dream?”
Delia’s hips had shifted slightly, her butt pushed further back.
“It’s not a girl, Mum, it’s a woman. Maybe forty? She’s got long dark hair and flaunts her figure in a little floral crop top and skin-tight scrunch-ass leggings and tiny lace thong panties. She’s a MILF.”
“A what?”
“A MILF, Mummy, a prick-tease, cock-crazed MILF, and you know what?”
Delia swallowed hard again, her mouth had gone quite dry.
“She fucking loves having her pussy stretched and flooded by my big, thick teenage cock. Loves it, Mummy. Standing up with her leggings and panties pulled down around her knees and that phat ass up in the air, and I’m fucking her hard from behind, really pounding her, you know what I mean, Mum?
“Pounding?” Delia’s voice had become unsteady.
“Yes, Mum, fucking her so hard that her bum cheeks bounce and ripple as my hips crash into her with each relentless stroke. Pounding her tight cunt with my giant cock, and she’s moaning and gasping and crying out that she’s cumming and begging for it harder and harder, and I can feel my balls boiling, and with one last massive thrust I unleash my seed inside the bitch. And that’s the moment I wake up; just as I’m flooding your cunt.”
“Your?”
“What?”
“You said your. You changed from her to your.”
She felt his hand on her bottom and tried to rise, but he held her in her place, spreadeagled on the countertop.
“Fre…”
He cut her off. “Mummy, I’ve got an idea.”
His fingers ran round the waistband of her leggings, lifting it lightly away from her skin.
“Oh?” Delia tried to sound casual, as if he might have a new recipe suggestion or plans for a long weekend.
“Yeah, an idea about to save on the washing.”
“Mmmm?”
Freddie yanked her leggings down to her knees to reveal her plump, bare buttocks and the merest wisp of lace disappearing in between them.
“A special place where I can release my juices every night before I go to sleep.”
Delia let out a little gasp as her panties joined her leggings around her knees, and she spread her legs as wide as they would go within the confines of the clothing.
He gripped one plump buttock in each of his hands and pulled them wide apart.
“Somewhere that can take a heavy load.”
She felt his red-hot cockhead press her cunt lips firmly.
“Ooof,” Delia was taken by surprise as her well-endowed young teenage son thrust his massive cock into her molten cunt.
He withdrew until the flared ridge of his bulbous head was visible for an instant and then slammed it all back into her as hard as he was able. His balls swang up against her clit.
“Aarrgghh, oooh, fuck, so big.”
“Take it, Mummy, take my cock. I’m gonna make you cum, you slut, and then I’ll flood you with a monster load.”
Her Marigolds struggled to grip the counter to brace herself against his onslaught as the thrusts became relentless, and she knew he was about to cum.
“Give it to me now, sweet boy; flood mummy’s pussy with your big load of sperm.”
Delia’s legs were shaking, and her bottom bounced from side to side as the taboo filth that spilt from her lips made her cum so hard she squirted, just as her son emptied his balls into her sacred cavern.
Spank, he slapped her ass cheek firmly as he pulled his joggers up.
“Night night, Mummy. Be ready for another load first thing tomorrow morning.”
Mrs Dickinson stayed there, speechless, splayed out over the washing machine as a single drop of her son’s sperm dropped from her cunt onto the kitchen floor.
“Sweet dreams, Freddie.”
