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.