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The Awakening on Titwhistle Lane

CHAPTER 4 — Something New for Mom and Son

Two days had passed since Mrs. Wentworth’s successful pool party. It had taken her hours and hours to get the house back in order and the pool area sanitized. The house was now quiet…still, as Maggie’s husband was off on another junket to destinations unknown. As much as she loved throwing a good party, the Wentworth woman equally enjoyed the quiet time that followed. It was a time to reflect, re-energize and dream. Standing at her front window, she gazed across the street where Steph’s son was mowing Alice Bottomley’s yard.

“Friendly, little get-to-know you chat?” Maggie breathlessly whispered.

“My ass…” she replied, answering her own question. Her mind was taken back to the security footage she’d just watched a few minutes before. At the time her husband had insisted on the camera’s instillation she had opposed the intrusive devices, but now she revelled in their effectiveness. She normally only reviewed the digital video files just often enough to delete the exterior recordings when storage space became an issue, but this morning her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Two days prior when Damian had rejoined the pool party, his cheeks flush and hands shaking, she knew something was afoot. Her suspicions had further been piqued when Emily had left the party so abruptly, without even so much as a thank you or goodbye. Yet, it wasn’t until she remembered the security cameras, positioned throughout the house, that she knew she had to know.

A light mist of perspiration coated Maggie’s darkly tanned skin that was exposed between her thunderous breasts. Her right hand gently swirled over a nipple that protruded thickly through her top’s fabric. Even her bra couldn’t restrain the hardening nub from being further pronounced and sensitive. Enthralled by the images she’d secretly captured and viewed, Maggie’s imagination had taken flight. I’m so lonely, she thought, and in need of some understanding and a soothing hand.

“That’s bullshit!” she exclaimed through pursed lips. “I need a cock…a big, stiff cock…and I may know where to find one.”

Dropping her hand from her breast she pulled her phone from her pant’s pocket and dialed the Sizemore home. After a couple of quick rings a woman’s voice answered with a cheerful, “Hello Maggie, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, thanks…and you?”

“Great…just trying to get some laundry and house work done.”

“Me too. I’ve finally got the pool level back up. I couldn’t believe how much those little buggers managed to splash out with their antics.”

“Really? That’s gonna be a shock when your utility bill shows up.”

“Tell me about it,” Maggie replied, trying to steer the conversation into the direction she needed. “Speaking of the pool party, it was so nice to have Damian stay and enjoy himself.”

“Yeah, it was. He said he really had fun,” the boy’s mother noted, thrilled that he’d been able to get beyond his nature to interact with everyone there.

“Yes, I’m quite sure he enjoyed the party more than he thought he might.” Maggie’s free hand suddenly slipped between her legs, putting some pressure where she needed it most. “As a matter of fact, when I was cleaning today I found a shirt and I think might be his,” she lied, a droll grin creasing the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, I was quite sure he was wearing his tank top when we left. In fact, I know he was ’cause I just washed it. It must belong to someone else.”

“Well, it’s certainly not my husbands. It’s much too small. Anyway, it’s a nice shirt and I can’t imagine who else my claim it. Could you have Damian come over sometime this evening and see if he’d like it?”

“Um…sure…I guess. He’s busy with yards today…”

“I know. I was just watching him out my front window. He’s over at Alice’s.”

“That’s good. He may be done a bit earlier than usual.”

“That would be nice. He is such a handsome boy, Steph. You must be proud. He’s so polite and helpful. I’d not know what to do with my yard without him. Heaven knows my husband is useless in that department…and every other department…if you get my drift.”

“Oh Maggie, you are a villain.”

“Ain’t it the truth,” she replied, almost feeling guilty for what she was thinking.

“Thanks for being so good to Damian. I know he enjoys helping you out.”

“I hope I can somehow repay him for his thoughtful nature. It seems to me he’s grown some recently. His shoulders seem more full and I see he’s got some chest hair.”

“He’ll be glad to know you’ve noticed. He was afraid he’d never fill out, and gladly, he appears to be doing just that.” Stephanie said, smiling broadly. If only she knew, Damian’s mother mused.

Since the early morning revelation and the discussion Stephanie had with her son about MILFhood, Mrs. Sizemore had struggled to keep her thoughts on anything else. Her husband had left the pair years ago, seeking his fortune doeda in China, only to wind up penniless and living on the beach in Thailand. She’d been faithful, devoting herself to her son, their friends, and the community, but the thought of having teenage boys lusting after her had set her on fire. The persistent mental image of Damian’s huge cock-head had only fanned the flames of an illicit fire that was consuming her. She’d masturbated at least once a day since she banged the kitchen table, discovering the washing machine was a good substitute for her failing ex-husband. Even now, as she talked with her friend, she sensed renewed moisture between her legs.

“Steph, you still there?” Maggie questioned.

“Oh…uh…uh…yeah, just daydreaming a bit. Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t. You were talking about Damian filling out.”

“Oh, yes, of course. So, you have a shirt and need him to ID it. Great, I’ll have him come over as soon as he has a minute.”

“That would be lovely. Would you mind if I kept him for a few minutes. I have some things that need lifting and…”

“Oh, no problem. I know he’d be happy to help.”

“Okay, then and what…”

“Hey Maggie, I hate to cut you short but I’ve got something in the oven and I…” she lied.

“Sorry, Dear. I won’t keep you then. Talk to you later.” Almost exhausted, the Wentworth woman returned to the window and continued her study of the young man across the street.

“My gosh,” Stephanie said, bounding up the stairs, headed to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and secured the lock. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she asked, while stripping her pants and panties to the floor.

Sliding her palm over her shaved pussy, she moaned as two fingers found her clit and pinched it firmly. Slick, clear lubricant coated her hand as she plunged two…then three fingers into her demanding slit. She worked them in and out, paying special attention to press her palm against her now throbbing clitoris.

“My…my…that feels good,” she cooed softly.

Dropping into a chair, she spread her legs wide, lifting each to rest on an arm of the chair. Seated in the corner she had a view of the entire room. Her king-size bed took up most of the space. A large, wooden headboard was pressed against the far wall, and near the foot, a cedar chest hugged the bed’s frame. Four ornate bedposts cornered the mattress, which was covered with a slew of pillows of various shapes and sizes. Each corner-post was cylindrical, with a spiral shape that started near the floor and proceeded to narrow at it approach the pinnacle of the wooden shaft.

At that moment, and with her hand nearly buried in her cunt, Stephanie had a wonderful idea, an awful idea…a wonderfully awful idea. Moving to her bed, she gripped one of the bed posts near the chest. The end was well rounded; oval in shape with a narrow band of wood wrapped around the middle. She gauged the diameter with both hands. It was a good nine inches at the thickest point. Undeterred, she returned both hands to her groin and saturated them with pussy juice. That action alone almost made her climax…but she held off, knowing something better was to come. Using her own natural lube to ready the decorative post, she stepped onto the cedar chest with one foot and the bed with the other.

The obstacle appeared ominous between her spread legs. It stared up at the quivering mother like a wooden god’s phallus, stiff and intimidating. “You can do this, Steph. Take your time,” she mouthed, as she slowly lowered herself down onto the waiting post. “Oh…thick,” she gasped, as the unforgiving beam began to split her in two. She continued the descent, inch by inch until she reached the band at the objects greatest girth. Taking the barrier as a sign that she’d taken enough, she lifted herself up and then buried it back inside her, being careful not to go beyond the wooden band.

“That’s what I’m talking about…” she hummed, continuing to balance herself carefully while working toward an explosive climax. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and grasped the shaft tightly below the head. She humped the bed beast until she could take it no more. Raising herself to just above the tip she prepared for a final impaling. Looking across the room, she caught site of the odd scene in her vanity mirror. The image was obscene, grotesquely hypnotizing…and the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Lurching forward and down she took the bulbous head entirely, thrusting past the barrier to swallow the whole, damn thing. Cum shot from her pussy, soaking the shaft to the floor.

Mrs. Sizemore…a mother, was absolutely impaled. She’d never felt so full, not even when delivering her son. For a moment she couldn’t move…couldn’t even breath, as the sensation overtook her. Shaking, she gripped the post tightly, while regaining her senses. “Now what?” she asked, once she could breathe. Slowly, every so slowly, she raised eş değiştirmeli porno herself from the wooden cock. When the tip reached the mouth of her vagina, a squishing popping sound announced it’s departure.

“I think I might need a shower,” she said, only now recognizing there was someone else in her house.

Damian had been present for the tail end of Stephanie’s encounter, however, unable to see, he was quite sure she was getting off. Make some noise, he thought. Retreating to his room, her gripped the door and swung it closed. He repeated the action until he heard his mother call out, “Damian, is that you?”

“Yeah, mom. I just got home. What’s to eat?”

Maggie had spent the last hour in her husband’s office watching the same scene she had viewed earlier in the day. From the camera’s angle she could see the back of Emily as she was pumping her breasts, and the empty doorway leading down the hallway. There was no sound, something that was more annoying now than it every had been before. “Here he comes,” she noted, excitedly. “He’ll step out, that big cock dying to be free.”

She watched the next couple of minutes with increased interest. “What are they saying? Surely, we can figure out a way for this to record sound.” Mrs. Wentworth studied the screen carefully, pushing her face closer and zooming the view to get a closer look at what Damian was hiding. “How is it possible? He’s so thin.”

When the young man had finally had enough and dashed from the room, the woman changed the saved output to another camera that angled toward the bathroom. “Poor guy has got to be jacking off,” she said, watching anxiously. “What is she saying?” she huffed, disappointed there was nothing she could do. “…and that’s it,” she exclaimed as Emily entered the bathroom and the show was over. “Why in the hell did we not put a camera in that bathroom?”

A second later and just as Maggie was going to watch it again, the door chimes rang. “He’s early,” she said to herself, grinning mischievously.

The 49-your-old married woman straightened herself up and adjusted her bra-less tits in the cotton blouse she’d tied below her bosom, giving them some lift and support. She pulled at each nipple to assure they presented a tantalizing view. The shirt itself was light peach, not sheer enough to be obvious, but enough so, that her handsome guest would be hard pressed not to stare. Her flat stomach was bare; faint stretch marks were obscured by a deep tan that gave way to distinct, sexy tan lines. Below, she had opted for lounging, pyjama styled pants, with no zipper but an elastic waist. The MILF had considered not wearing panties but thought perhaps that would be too much. After all, this was a first for the woman and she really had no idea how the evening might unfold, but she knew one thing — she had to get a look at Damian’s equipment.

Before the doorbell rang a second time, Maggie hustled to the front door and opened it, ushering Damian inside. “Damian, you little rascal, thanks for coming.”

“No problem, Mrs. Wentworth. I didn’t have any plans anyway.” Damian was nervous but tried to remain relaxed. The young man was still reeling from his experience with Ms. Ravenbach and what he’d heard through his mother’s door just a few hours ago.

“Oh, that’s great. I have a couple little chores you can help me with and I’ve got a treat for you once we’re finished.”

“Sounds good. What kind of treat?”

“Something I’m sure you’ll like, but let’s get these boxes moved in the garage and then we can relax.”

The two moved from the front entrance through a hallway and mud rum that led to the garage. Damian followed Maggie, noting how her butt seemed quite unrestricted in the baggy-fitting, cozy pants. They didn’t look at taut as Emily’s but they were still very shapely for a woman her age, besides he was more of a tit man. As they’d walked he was captivated by the sway of her breasts, side to side, first being exposed on one side under an arm, and then the other. She’s got enough side boobage for three women, he thought.

Scattered about the garage were a number of boxes filled with assorted items, including things Maggie had used for the pool party. One side of the space was lined with storage shelves that obviously had boxes missing. Maggie had no trouble removing the boxes earlier, in anticipation of Damian returning them.

“So, Damian…if you could just lift those into place. I think I’ve got them all packed as they should be but I just can’t manage them back onto the shelves.”

Mrs. Wentworth watch closely as Damian crouched to pick up the first box. “This isn’t too bad… pretty light actually. Where does it go?” Maggie directed him to a shelf on the right and stood out of his way while he moved it into place. “And this one,” he asked.

Maggie bit her lip and studied the wall. “Okay, let’s try the bigger box over there. It has to go on the middle shelf.” As she had genç porno suspected, once the box was hefted Damian’s view was completely obscured and he struggled to peek around the box.

“Can’t quite see. Can you help?” the boy asked.

For a second Maggie stood directly in front of Damian and bent over just enough to get a closer look at his crotch. He was wearing track pants with a t-shirt tucked in around his waist. Oblivious to his request, she stared, trying to visually make out the contour of his prick hanging down the one leg of his pants. Remarkable, she mouthed silently.

“Um, Mrs. Went…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Damian. Yes, let me help you into place.” Stepping behind the boy, she placed her hands on his hips and steered him toward the wall. They took a few steps before she stopped him, stepped out to get her bearings, and then gripped his waist again. “Just about there,” she coaxed. “A couple more steps…and…perfect. Just set it down there.”

Staying very close, Maggie moved within a few inches of Damian, with his back to her. He must not have been aware she was so close, because as he turned around she was right there, here breast brushing against his chest and her hands accidentally touching his cock.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” he said, totally embarrassed that he had made contact with her. “I had no idea you were…”

“Dear Boy, it’s not your fault. I was daydreaming a bit and should have gotten out of the way. Come on…no harm done. Let’s get these last two boxes into place.”

With the chore done the pair moved to the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink.” A few minutes later Mrs. Wentworth returned to the room carrying two large glasses of lemonade. “You like lemonade?” she asked.

“You make the best lemonade on the block. I’d love some.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, young man. Thanks, and here you go.”

Damian took a large chug of the refreshing drink and sat back on the couch, resting the glass on his knee. “My mom said you have a shirt that may belong to me. I don’t remember…”
“Oh, that…mystery solved. One of the kids from the party stopped by and picked it up just a few minutes before you arrived.”

“Good…I was quite sure I hadn’t ever left one here, but I’ve done dumber things.”

Mrs. Wentworth remained standing in front of Damian, not near enough to touch but with their legs fairly close. She pretended to look out the window, behind the boy, while lifting her glass to her lips. Condensation had formed on the glass, making the exterior surface wet and slippery. Taking a long swallow, Maggie shook the glass ever so slightly, forcing a few large drops of water to drop on her blouse-covered tits. The moisture quickly spread making the blouse’s fabric nearly transparent. She was very much aware what had happened but pretended as if nothing had.

However, Damian was very much aware of the spillage and was enjoying the view from his perspective. “This lemonade is…a…a…great,” he stuttered. “It’s so cold,” he commented, taking another swig while staring at the older woman’s bust.

Maggie seemed to ignore the comment, taking another extended drink and dribbling more of the condensation on her thinly veiled breasts. How can she not feel that? Damian imagined, but he didn’t complain. Her right nipple was now quite visible through the fabric, its dark brown areola plastered against the thin material. Mrs. Wentworth was very much aware of what was happening and very pleased that she’d captured Damian’s attention.

“I had a nice little chat with your mom this afternoon. She’s a lovely woman.”

“Um…thanks. I think so too,” Damian replied awkwardly.

“It was one of those chats where you can really get to know someone. Probably much like the interaction you had with Ms. Ravenbach the other day. I can well imagine that was an interesting conversation.”

Confused and trying to make sense of where Mrs. Wentworth was going, Damian simply replied, “Yeah, it was enlightening.”

“Yes, I’ll bet it was,” Maggie continued with a smile. “Your mom mentioned you’ve gone through quite a growing spurt lately.”

The words caught the boy off guard and he didn’t know what to say. “I guess…well…yes…over the past…um…”

“She’s lucky to have you around for company. I miss having someone here to talk with. I watched you out doing Mrs. Bottomley’s yard today.”

“Yeah,” Damian replied before bringing his drink back to his mouth. He was in the process of taking another big gulp when Mrs. Wentworth asked the following, “Who would you say has the nicer tits, me or Alice?”

The question came from so far out in left field that Damian nearly drowned in lemonade. The citrus-flavoured drink shot from his nose and sputtered from his mouth, drenching his lap in sticky goodness.

“Heavens Damian, let me get a towel.” Maggie hustled away, returning quickly with a tea towel from the kitchen. “Here…let me help,” she said, kneeling in front of the lad.

The motion of the towel over Damian’s lap was having the effect Mrs. Wentworth was hoping for. She had seen he was semi-erect, even before the spill, but with the action of her hand roaming around his groin it was quite obvious his penis was turgid and stiff.

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