Anniversary Toy Surprise

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Sometimes I think back, and I still can’t believe what I’d done. It was only a year ago now. Back then, my son Johnny, well he was a little bit of the quieter type. I always summed it up to my more aggressively enthusiastic attitude. I was told at times I could be ‘a bit much’ (ha!). It’s likely that I only got away with it because most of the tops I own are a size too small. And maybe I don’t use a lot of top buttons…or wear a lot of bras… Ok so maybe I’m a little too proud of what’s underneath the shirt…so I don’t know, maybe being a bubbly show-off made him quiet?

I mean regardless of why, it really was always my favorite thing about the kid. It made things like making him cringe or blush so damn easy. Something I would encourage any good mom to do. Even if just to torture them and see that adorable face they make.

Seeing them smile slightly and avert their eyes while turning all red. Just adorably cute. (And, because I’m ‘a bit much’, also sweetly flattering). I was going to miss that when it’s gone. My shy, sweet boy was eventually going to grow up enough to no longer cringe when I make a sex joke or blush when he see’s my nipples poking through my top.

But as it turned out, some girls kind of like them shy boys! Maybe I would’ve too had I known they existed prior to raising Johnny. Maybe a little more submissive. More attentive and malleable. I’ve gotta say though it’s not the type of man that existed when I was still actively dating. I was a small-town gal. Everyone was so much stricter about their gender roles back then. All the guys wanted to do was fuck you silly, and all the girls wanted to do was to be a good toy so they could get hitched. Which is basically how it played out for me.

My luck. I mean if I’m being completely honest with myself the objectification actually worked for me back then. The toy part was never a problem given the look I’d cultivated. It was the getting hitched part that was less my thing. But hey! It resulted in me having Johnny. Probably worth the detox from promiscuous sex.

Besides. Toys are a thing. I’d found my ‘house mom’ alternative.


So, before that night, I would have said he was just a sweet and docile kind of kid. Sort of innocent. I never would have expected to find out what I did. But something was different that night. If I’d had any wherewithal I would’ve checked for a full moon.

It wasn’t exactly like I was on high alert or anything though. I’d known Johnny was out. And presumedly on a date given how long it took me to help him choose an outfit. I wish he’d just open up to me and tell me about these things. He’s just so shy with me these days. Such is the life of a mom I guess. I think I’ll just keep gently nudging him. I know he kind of likes how I poke and prod at him anyway.

So, while he was gone, I took advantage of my time alone! I made myself a cold martini, lit some candles, and put on something to make me feel special. See tonight was an anniversary for me. Well, a former, anniversary. Putting on something risqué was really just foreplay. Just a sort of ritualistic formality at this point given I’d started this little tradition 10 long years ago.

I would get the best booze, order the best new toys, and commence in a night of some of the most intense self pleasure anyone would be lucky enough to see. All dressed up in my own little gift for myself. A tight black babydoll with entirely too much cleavage. I’ll admit the narcissist in me. I do love to love me. And I do look damn fine in the right lingerie.

So there I sat, the light from the T.V. illuminating the couch. Sipping my fifth martini, sitting on the edge of frustration with my back flat against the couch cushion, my knees lifted, heels against my butt and arms between my knees. I flared out my elbows to stretch my legs and allow myself a better view of my cleavage. Sometimes it made me sad that I didn’t allow myself more opportunities to share it.

The narcissist in me was showing.

I can’t be blamed for being distracted though. Because the new toy I bought, was a complete…fucking…dud. See my position, on top of being a more relaxed squat and a good way to stretch out my legs, was also a way for me to better grind into the toy that was pulsing inside of me. It was meant to pulse in response to sound, which I’d had queued up with a somewhat extreme porno. Because hey, ten years is a long time to not get a little extreme with ways to get off, right?

But this thing didn’t want to listen! Two minutes on, ten minutes off. One minute on. Two minutes off. Over and over pushing me to the edge of orgasm and cutting out before release. How’s a girl supposed to get off that way?

And I know, I know, why not get more toys and fix it? Maybe take it out? Well first of all, once you work a sizable vibrating toy inside of you, you usually don’t plan on taking it out until you’ve cum a couple times. This was Diyarbakır Escort truer then ever this time given I’d opted for a vibrating butt plug rather than something for my pussy. The toy pressing deep in my ass may be a little inconsistent, but the feeling of being filled up was something that still gave me all the right flashbacks to my sluttier single days.

On top of all that, this thing took so long to set up that now I’m running the risk of having my son walk in on me. So pulling out all my old friends from anniversaries past probably wouldn’t be a good move if it means my son walking in and seeing his mom spit roasting herself between two dildo’s while watching a gangbang on the living room T.V. Though if I’m honest, the reaction would be precious.

“Mom! Is that entire dick in your mouth!?” or “Oh my god Mom, I didn’t realize how sexy you are!”

Okay…maybe he wouldn’t say that…but at any rate, the buzzing hadn’t responded to the songs that were playing for about 15 minutes now, and I’d assumed that was that. So I sipped my Martini and watched the Kardashians. Basically just for fashion ideas and to do some positive self speak.

Like: ‘I’m smarter than them’, ‘My ass is shaped way better than that’, ‘My tits are way bigger than hers!’

And that was when I heard someone, or more than one someone come in. I’ll admit I was slightly taken aback when I heard a faint giggling sound coming from the front door.

“Did my baby boy bring himself a girl home?” I thought to myself.

It was all very cutesy. I was naïve. I was a mom. I was also a mom that knew her son. He was going to be nervous to introduce her to me. There’s no doubt. You know he really was a sweetheart. He’ll be so well trained for whoever would be so lucky to get their hands on him. He really is a good boy.

So, I tried to make it easy on them! I couldn’t bare the thought of my sweet shy boy fumbling around all nervous to introduce his cute new girl to his cute old mom. So, I took the initiative! I grabbed the small silk robe laying next to me, put down my Martini (or what was left of it) and left the Kardashians playing to swing around the corner for a quick hello. I just thought it would be nice. Maybe make it easier on them.

When I turned the corner into the dark kitchen I was met with a high pitched, and rather stunted, “hi, Ms. Kim!”.

The voice was friendly and cute. I responded with an exuberant “please, just Kim!” before flicking on the kitchen light.

She had found her way through the door, and into the kitchen, where she stood leaning onto the overhang of our island bar. I’m bad with height, but I know I skew tall, and with us standing at opposite sides of the island we both managed to reach a similar height. The dead giveaway being that the bar was at a perfect height for my boobs to sit comfortably onto the bar-top when standing, which was exactly how this young thing was presenting herself to me.

It was always a great spot to stand and lean when I really needed to get my point across. Given the sheer size of this girl’s chest, and her position at the bar, I was only re-affirmed of the effectiveness of my seductive little move.

The next thing I couldn’t help but notice was her smile. It was radiating with confidence and charisma. Her teeth were almost shockingly white, and her lips were contracting between a symmetrical and warming smile, into a thick, contorted, almost pouty face.

‘She seems nervous’ I thought, ‘is she drunk maybe?’

Her hair, resting in long blonde waves framing her youthful round face were the only noticeable features that separated the two of us. Her breasts seemed to have a more natural lift, but were comparable to mine in size, and her shoulders were pulled back to support her athletic build. One that I should admit, was probably toned with a little more muscle than I’d managed to build.

In fact even her clothes seemed to parody mine. Her plunging top showing off her cleavage and soft shoulders would have been something I’d worn on any given date when prowling for male attention. I tended to wear more dark tones though as it worked better with my long black hair. Sort of a Kim K. look I’d been working towards for the last couple of years. I’d gotten enough comparisons to her given we share the same name anyways.

Speaking of names. I’d better ask…

“What’s your name sweetie?” I asked her,

“It’s Stacey! Has Johnny not told you about me?” she inquired,

“Oh well he doesn’t tell me anything these days. I feel like he has less interest in sharing things with me lately if I’m honest.” I tried to cover for the kid.

“Hahaha, come one! Johnny loves you so much. He talks about you all the time. I love teasing him for being a little mommy’s boy”.

I think I like her. She’s bubbly and outgoing. And clearly likes my son’s reactions the same way I do.

I had to pry, “and how does he usually take that?”

“Weeeell his reaction is to get embarrassed…at first anyway…but he kind of likes Diyarbakır Escort Bayan it I think. He’s a shy boy, but he’s my shy boy. I only call him a mommy’s boy cause he makes the cutest face when I do. And get’s all excited and nervous. I love it.”

Now I was feeling a little challenged. Not to mention confused. Is she me?

“You know, he used to be MY shy boy. Those faces used to be reserved for me.” I said it with a friendly enough attitude, but it’s hard not to see what I was getting at.

“Please! I’m actually so sorry, I didn’t even mean it that way. I feel like the way he talks about you, it’s almost like I already know you in a way. And I feel like you’d like me! And so you aren’t still in the dark, I’m sort of his girlfriend. Just…not in the traditional sense…I’m just good for him, and he’s a good boy for me! So, it all works out”.

I wasn’t sure what to take away from it. I wanted to ask a million questions but all I could focus on was the toy inside me, the flashes of sexual imagery I’d just seen, and this gorgeous mini me across the bar. I don’t think the Martinis were helping in any way.

‘What did she say about him being a good boy?’

We continued to talk for I don’t know how long. She told me she played on the field hockey team, giving me more evidence of our similarities. She was precocious, sweet, outgoing…stunningly gorgeous…my boy kind of nailed it. We were actually starting to get along. At least as best as you can in a short conversation across a kitchen bar.

She just seemed so sweet. But also, at times, just a little suspiciously void of thought. And it would shift quickly. Sometimes in mid-sentence. And her expressions would change frequently from girl next door, ‘big smile for the boyfriend’s mom’, to pouting her lips as if trying to seduce me or something.

And to be honest. If only. I mean I never hooked up with girls in my younger days, but I’m much freer sexually than I ever used to be. I made my son my world when his dad died, so getting laid wasn’t on the menu. But, that doesn’t mean I didn’t still have a libido.

Thankfully we live in a time where I don’t have to go out and suck 100 dicks to satisfy my oral fixation. I can just buy 100 dildos and blow them 100 different times in 100 different positions while watching 100 different porn videos. I mean, sure, I don’t get the satisfaction of making someone cum, but it allowed me to stay close to my boy while still being a little slutty from time to time. I mean, it’s basically why I’m in shape now. What can I say really, hot bodies turn me on! (shocker, I know). And given I’m the only one I’ve been fucking for the last 10 years, I decided to work tirelessly toward making my ass one worth fucking. A girl’s gotta get her kicks somehow right?

This girl really was something though. I found myself being less concerned with her intermittently pouting and tilting her head to the side and more focused on her chest breathing up and down, and the saliva that would work its way from the tip of her tongue to the entrance of her mouth when she would lose concentration. There was a slight daze in her eyes. But it seemed to fade in and out. It’s very possible I’m just over-mothering my way through this interaction though.

“Stacey, are you okay sweetie? Can I get you some water?” I asked.

“Oh, no thanks Ms. Kim!” she shook her head slightly as if to awaken from a trance.

“I think I’ll just wait here for Johnny to get back from the washroom”

I must be losing it. Why the hell am I only realizing now that I haven’t seen Johnny yet? Well, I mean I probably know the answer to that. I’ve been doing nothing but masturbating to porn all night and this young gal looks exactly like a little pornstar. And I could swear she was looking at me like she wanted to eat me.

“Please sweetie, just call me Kim!, and I’m sure Johnny will be coming soon. I raised him better than to keep a lady waiting. At any rate why don’t I just stay right here and keep you company. If you don’t mind of course?”.

As the words were leaving my mouth I noticed a shift in her demeaner. Stacey’s cheeks became flushed and her words were stripped from her voice. Her expressions no longer shifted erratically and instead froze in a state of trance as her eyes fixated on the ceiling and her jaw dropped lower, and lower. In my panic I sped around to where she stood.

“Stacey, what’s wrong?”

Stacey managed to grab me before I could make it past the corner to round her side of the island.

“Oh my god Stacey, what’s wrong sweetie, please talk to me?!”

“Jooohnnyyyy” she squeaked out a sound that was just barely audible. “Pleeeease Johnnnyyy”

She was staring directly into my eyes as if to beg me to watch her. I felt so hot and so powerful as she squeezed my arm and slouched onto me. Her eyes rolled deep into the back of her head, and she began falling backwards. I rushed around the corner to catch her, her head and back arched into me making the perfect mold for my Escort Diyarbakır curves. As she started to shake and jerk up against me I immediately notice while looking down that her deep plunging top had somehow been pulled down from her chest.

With her body curving and contorting into me like a mould, her back lifted her impressive tits into the air letting her head rest delicately on my shoulder. Her soft, high tits heaved with every short, desperate breath taken. Her hard nipples coming within inches of my lips when taking in a breathe. My oral fixation was kicking in…I wonder, if I reach out my tongue……I was definitely too drunk for this. And way too horny to have a mature or informed reaction to it.

As this is all happening, I begin to hear a slow, rising moan coming through Stacey’s lips. Growing louder with each word:

“Kiiiim, Johnny’s going to make me cuuuum!!!”

Her scream. Her desperate confession of ecstasy. The slutty little noises coming from the woman pressing into me were enough to trigger the vibrator comfortably stretching my ass. With that desperate horny moan I was nearly buckled from the intense surge of pleasure emanating from my ass. A pulsing menace coming from the semi-broken sex toy inside of me was sending me into a frenzy as if an instant reminder of what it’s like to cum with a cock in your ass.

The shock of the vibrator was nothing when compared to my shock when pulling this tranced out little field hockey player deeper into me to reveal a new line of site between her large tits, and down to my son’s head buried between her legs. Making that same adorable little embarrassed face that always seems to make me so happy.

Stacey was fucking his face in a similar way the boys would use mine when I’d play the party toy.

‘Is this the weirdest way anyone’s ever felt like a proud mom?’ I thought to myself.

Stacey continued desperately grinding and fucking his face for her own pleasure as he looked up in helpless agony. He must be so embarrassed with his mother looking down on his wet, dripping, face.

‘Why aren’t I letting go?’

My shock was stripped of me again by the feeling of Stacey’s tongue slipping past my lips and into my mouth. Mid-orgasm, she slid her way into my mouth and moaned loud and hard as her pussy contracted and pulsed, and leaked into my sweet boys mouth. I was caught so off guard that I didn’t even have a second thought as to whether I should kiss back. Have I become desensitized? Does being a closeted slut just inevitably lead to double teaming a girl with your son?

She came long and hard. Her original moans, now stifled by my lips and invading tongue, were strong enough to jump start my toy and shut down my brain, leaving me victim to impulse and pleasure, instantly back to the edge of orgasm I’d been riding since my first drink. My eyes tilted upwards and my jaw went slack, leaving room for Stacey to gently wrap her lips around my tongue and suck.

I reached desperately for something to hold onto. I lifted my arm from around her waist up to her breast and squeezed brainlessly. I was Stacey 30 seconds ago. I was in trance.

‘Is Johnny still down there?’ the thought echoed in my head, ‘he’s such a good boy’.

As she released my tongue from her thick lips, Stacey opened her eyes to meet mine. In her eyes I saw a gleeful, calm, and devious expression wash over her. I couldn’t dissect it. All I knew was that she wanted me to cum. And I was ready to cum for her. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.

“Do you want it Kimmy?’

‘Kimmy?’ I thought.

Words were lost on me as my thoughts swam in a flood of sexual imagery and tension as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back riding the edge of orgasm.

In this moment, I was her.

Suddenly I felt it, a warm wet sensation coming from my engorged clit sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to my brain. I began to contract and shake as I screamed in ecstasy. Impulse took hold as I bucked my hips forward, forcing what I would come to realize was my son’s tongue deep inside of my wet pussy, providing a delicious compliment to the voracious intensity of the toy pounding away at my ass.

“Cum in his mouth, slut”

I had no thoughts left. No words or emotions. Lust and submission had taken over. I began to cum through a violent torrent of contractions and screams. Hands clenched around Stacey’s large perky tits, my ass pulsing with deep intense pleasure, the faint taste of Stacey’s lips still on my tongue. Streams of liquid were rolling down my thighs, conjuring images of my sweet shy boy covered in his mommy’s cum. Stacey whispered and licked into my ear as I navigated my way through the assault.

“Cum on his face Kim, let him be a good mommy’s boy”

Somehow this only made me moan louder. My slutty past and motherly pride were becoming intertwined, wanting my son to experience all the joy that I used to get from having my mouth used like a slutty little toy. The words ‘Good boy, Johnny’ played over in my head.

I bucked and squeezed and came recklessly onto my son’s tongue and open mouth as I held on to Stacey for fear of collapse. Hearing her cute little giggles of joy in the distance of the real world I’d left behind in lieu of sweet sexual depravity. The cruel sounds of successful dominance over a mother and her son.

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