The Passion Of Art

by Lubrican

Alpha Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 Bravo Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Charlie Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 Delta Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Chapter 2

Valerie told Robby to go to bed. She was tired too, and relaxed from her bathroom masturbatory session. When she got to bed herself, she surrendered again and allowed herself one more orgasm, achieved more slowly.

It was painfully sweet.

The harder she tried to block it out, the more clearly she imagined her little boy's not-so-little penis while she came.

Two rooms away, Robby's fist flogged his cock frantically, also for the second time that night. She'd been behind the bathroom door only seconds before he'd been jerking on his painfully hard prick. He shot his spooge into another rag snatchedf from the table, just as he heard her moan through the door and got worried. Thankfully, his traitorous prick had stayed soft, but as soon as he was alone it ballooned again. Now, as then, the vision of his mother's open robe and pooching pussy lips was clearly in his mind. It was those lips his cock had touched the night before. With a long groan of satisfaction, his balls emptied themselves through his cock in gut-wrenching spasms.

The next day was Saturday and Valerie woke up refreshed from two orgasms and a good sleep. She worried a little about those orgasms. She knew it was wrong to lust after her own son, but it was harmless, wasn't it? What could happen? He obviously had a girlfriend who made him crazy. True, he'd seen his own mother's pussy, and that delicious string of precum had dripped out, but that nonsense she'd thought ... that the precum was because of his own mother ... what rubbish. Surely he'd been thinking about that girl, whoever she was. She made a note to find out who this mystery girl was. She wanted to see the girl who had so obviously captured the heart of her first born.

Her opportunity came as she was eating breakfast and Megan slowly walked into the kitchen, wearing her big fluffy pink bunny slippers and a T shirt Valerie recognized as one of Robby's when he was several years younger. Megan was rubbing her eyes. "Morning Mommy," she said.

"Hi, sweetheart. Have some breakfast. Can I get you something?"

"I just want some cereal," said her daughter. She got a bowlful and sat down with the milk and a spoon.

Valerie tried not to sound like she was interrogating her daughter. "I hear Robby has a girlfriend. He's never mentioned her to me. Who is she?"

Megan looked up from her bowl, her mouth full of Chocolate Krispies. Between chews she said, "What girlfriend? He doesn't have a girl friend."

Valerie was taken aback. "Sure he does. All teenage boys have a girlfriend." Megan chewed and then said, "Not Robby. We ride to school together and come home from practice together. If he was involved with a girl I'd know about it. Besides, he doesn't have time for a girlfriend. And he doesn't have a job. Has he asked you for money to go out on dates?"

Valerie sat quietly. All that made a lot of sense. "Not specifically, but he does go out sometimes. What about then? Couldn't he meet a girl then?"

"Sure, but he always goes out with Chip and Dustin. There's girls there - Dustin has a girl friend I think - but it's different girls. They aren't exactly 'dates' mom."

"And he hasn't mentioned any girl ... maybe said one looked really good or something?"

Megan went back to eating. "Nope. I've been thinking he might be gay or something." She said it so matter-of-factly that Valerie completely missed the sly little grin on her face.

Valerie choked on the milk she had just begun to swallow. Could his erections have been about a boy instead of a girl? This was every mother's worst nightmare. What was she going to do?

Megan drained the milk from her bowl by drinking from the bowl itself. "Can I go over to Sheryl's house? There are some cheers we want to work on."

"Sure honey," said a distracted Valerie. "I'm going to be doing some painting today, so I don't need any distractions.

Megan moved out of the kitchen in a more lively fashion than she'd come in. Valerie got dressed, putting on a halter top and some running shorts. She was back in the kitchen, washing dishes when Megan came through on her way out. She was now awake and bouncy as she kissed her mother's cheek and said she'd be back by supper. Then Robby came into the kitchen. When he saw his mother he almost turned around and left. He felt pretty guilty for beating off thinking about his mother's pussy the night before. At least she wasn't wearing that damn robe. She turned around and saw him. He felt even worse as her face lit up in a gorgeous smile. "Hi sweetheart," she said, "Want some breakfast before we get started?"

He went to the refrigerator and opened it.

"Don't drink from the carton dear," his mother said automatically, as he lifted it to his lips. He looked. She wasn't even looking at him. How did mothers do that? Could they be mind readers? He didn't think so. If she could read his mind, she'd be calling the police to come get him right now, because all he could think about was all that skin between her breasts, and that wonderful soft, warm pussy he just knew would feel so good wrapped around his pulsing cock.


There it went again. He just had to stop thinking about this. He felt like he might be stiff for the rest of his life.

"You sure you don't want something?" asked the object of his desire. "I could whip you up some pancakes."

"No," he mumbled. "I'm not very hungry."

Valerie's maternal senses went on alert. Seventeen year old boys just weren't 'not hungry'. Something was bothering him. Was he gay? Was he afraid she would find out he was gay? What was she going to do?

"Well then," she said in a voice she hoped sounded light hearted, "shall we repair to the studio and create fine art?"

He just stood up and turned toward the room he had begun to feel afraid of.

Valerie's body did a self check as certain hormones were injected into her bloodstream. In the center of her body, where they were well protected, her ovaries received the signal to do what they were intended to do. Finding no physical or chemical reason not to, an egg was selected from their stores. The ovary that was supplying the egg this month pulsed, and sent the egg toward the only opening available to it. The egg began its short journey down the fallopian tube to the uterus, hoping it would meet many handsome, interesting and sturdy sperm cells along the way. Had the egg been able to say so, it would have told an interested observer it planned on letting only the strongest and most handsome sperm cell into its inner sanctum.

That egg wanted to reproduce.

Robby dropped his robe. His mother had to know that the average boy didn't have a boner every single time he got naked in front of his mother.

Valerie sighed as his erection was revealed. She felt her pussy react and her nipples tingled. Surely that beautiful stiff thing couldn't be for another boy. She picked up her brush.

"Robby?" she said. "Tell me about the girl ... the one who makes you ... excited like that."

Robby was an intelligent guy, but this caught him off guard. His basic response was, "Huh?"

"You know. What's she like? Is she tall? I know she must be gorgeous to affect you that way. Won't you even tell me her name?"

Robby was in a panic. "Um ... I can't, Mom."

"What do you mean you can't? Why couldn't you tell me your girl friend's name?"

"Well, she's not my girlfriend," he blurted out.

"So there's a girl out there, who has seen you naked, and who you are so infatuated with that you think of her all the time, and who affects you so strongly that whenever you think of her you get erect." Valerie stopped painting and stared at her son. "But she's not your girlfriend, and you won't tell me her name."

Robby, thinking he was saying it under his breath, said, "Shit, shit, shit."

Valerie heard him say it and her worst fears were confirmed. "You're gay aren't you Robby," she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

Robby's jaw dropped. "What?!" he said "Mom! What are you talking about?"

Valerie stared, not because his whole chest and face blazed red, but because his erection wilted like magic. One minute it was stiff and proud, and the next it was limply flaccid, pointing at the ground.

"Mom! Who told you I was gay? I am not gay Mom. Why did you say that?"

Valerie didn't know what to think. Something wasn't right here, but she didn't know what it was. "Robby, honey, nobody told me you were gay. It's just that you're being so secretive about ... whoever it is ... that is affecting you so much. Sweetie I'm not trying to pry, but you're my son, my baby, and I love you so much. I just wanted to know something about the ... person ... who you obviously are excited by."

Robby gave a sigh of relief. She didn't actually think he was gay, but because he wouldn't name names she got off on the wrong track. Maybe he could salvage the situation after all.

"OK, look. It's just weird talking to my mother about why I have a boner, OK? But it's not because of some guy! OK? Let's get that straight right now!"

Valerie felt terrible. "OK, sweetie. Never mind, OK? Let's just forget this happened. Now stand up straight, like before." She picked up her brush again.

Robby didn't think he was off the hook yet. "OK, I can tell you this. She's a woman. And she's really nice and I love her a lot. But she doesn't know about ... about how she affects me. And I don't want her to find out because she'd be embarrassed. And so would I. And I guess that's why I didn't want to say anything, because it's kind of a secret."

Robby was very proud of himself. He was just sure he had given her enough information to convince her he wasn't a homo, but not enough that she'd be able to figure out it was her he was talking about.

Robby, however, didn't take into account the fact that his mother was very intelligent. He had said three things that caused red flags and sirens to go off in her mind. He had characterized his mystery love as 'a woman', not as a girl. further he had said he loved her. Finally he was worried about embarrassment if anyone found out he loved this woman.

So she knew it was no mere girl who inflamed her son's passions so much that every single time she saw him naked he had an erection. Her mind churned. What women did he know? He mowed Mrs. Jenkins' lawn three doors down, but there was no way in the world he felt that way about Marge Jenkins. She didn't even think Mister Jenkins felt that way about Marge.

She realized he was waiting for some kind of comment from her. She thought furiously about how to get more information. "Well, it must be hard on you. You see her every day?" Maybe it was one of his teachers.

"Yeah" he said. "But I don't mind. Really. I shouldn't even feel this way about her." Robby was talking more to himself than to his mother. That was a mistake. Valerie ticked off teachers in her mind. All male. Robby didn't have any women teachers this year. Her mind flitted to Megan and she dismissed that almost immediately. Robby would never call Megan a 'woman'.

Then, in the pit of her stomach, like a small animal that had been swallowed and was trying to gnaw its way out, a suspicion began to form.

He saw her every day.

She had seen him naked, but he hadn't seen her naked. Well, he'd seen her almost naked, when that wine spilled, but technically she wasn't naked. He loved her very much. She knew he loved her.

He didn't want this woman to know he lusted after her because it would embarrass her. Of course he'd think his mother would be horrified if he admitted he lusted after her. Boys in today's world just weren't allowed to love their mothers in that way. That, she understood perfectly. His comment about how he shouldn't feel that way fit with that too!

Could it be? Was it possible that her handsome son, whom she lusted after, felt the same way about her?

Suddenly she felt jittery, antsy, unable to stand still. Images flashed through her mind ... images of hot torrid sex ... her body crushed under his ... long passionate kisses and the feel of maleness ... inside her.

Her pussy gushed. She actually heard liquid sounds coming from her running shorts. She'd put them on without panties, and she knew there was a dark, wet spot developing between her legs at that very instant.

"Wait ... there" she gasped. "Gotta pee." She staggered toward the bathroom and took refuge behind the door. She leaned against it and breathed deeply. She felt flushed and nervous. She looked down and saw the wet spot she knew she'd see. She slipped out of the shorts and looked around frantically. There was nothing to change into.

Then she saw the robe, her silk robe. Hurriedly she untied her halter top and, naked, slipped into the robe. She splashed water on her face and throat, getting her breathing under control. She pulled the robe open, not quite enough to bare her nipples. She tried to walk out of the bathroom like nothing had happened.

She heard him mutter, under his breath again: "On no ... not the robe."

She walked to the easel and picked up her brush. "OK, sorry, we can go on now." She looked up at her son.

He stood there. He was rock hard again. He looked miserable.

There are lots of turning points in our lives. They come and go every day.

Sometimes we notice them, and sometimes they slip past without our even realizing that we had a chance to change things forever ... but didn't.

Valerie Hudson didn't exactly decide to change her life. It was more like a feather in the wind, that has control over where it goes only insofar as it has weight, and tries to drop straight down, but cannot. Had there been a third party there to stop her, and reason with her, and remind her of all the options she had, she might have chosen not to change her life.

But the wind that was loneliness, and four months of lying in an empty bed, and the wind that was her hot blooded nature, and the wind that was her handsome, loving son, became as a warm summer breeze to the feather that was Valerie Hudson. She was nudged off her course just enough that her life took a completely new direction.

The first thing she did was close the blinds.

Heavy drapes were then pulled over them, pitching the room into darkness.

Valerie floated across the floor on bare feet and her finger flipped a switch. The hair light came on directly above Robby. Next Valerie moved back to the bathroom. She reached for the bottle of baby oil she kept in the corner of the sink.

Her gaze flitted across her packet of birth control pills. Without pause she popped one through the foil backing and swallowed it. Smiling, she went back to the room where her naked son stood waiting.

"I need more definition on your muscles," she said softly. "I'm going to put some baby oil on you to make you shiny."

He moved and she said, "No. Just stand there. I need to see the light the way it will look when I paint."

Robby didn't feel so good. His mother, dressed in that damned robe, again, the one that wouldn't stay closed, and which right now was showing him most of her chest, was coming closer and closer to him. And she was going to touch him. She wasn't just going to touch him, she was going to rub her hands on him, spreading that oil on him. He felt precum enter his stiff column.

Valerie approached her son, stepping up on the platform with him. She was perhaps twenty-four inches away from him. The hair light was directly above them both now, and it was bright, casting his eyes in shadow. She looked at the bottle of baby oil.

"I don't want my oily hands to get my robe dirty," she said, sensibly. Her hand flicked to the knot holding her robe together and it came undone. With a shrug of her shoulders, she let the robe slip off her arms and, just like that, she stood naked with her son under the light.

Robby had seen all kinds of breasts. Well ... OK ... he'd seen pictures of all kinds of breasts. He'd seen pendulous, heavy breasts, and round balloon looking breasts, and small mounds of breasts. He'd seen teen breasts, and mature breasts and even granny breasts, on the internet.

But he'd never seen anything like his mother's breasts. Hers started out at her body being round and heavy looking, but as they jutted out they got pointed, and those pointy tips turned upward, like flowers looking toward the sun. The very tips were sharp spikes, made by brown hard-looking nipples that were so long you could hang a necklace on them and it wouldn't fall off. They were just gorgeous. He looked down at them, brightly lit by the light above, even though her face was in the shadows. He could see down between them to her stomach, which was also in the shadows, but which he could see was taut and flat.

He felt the precum in his cock flow forward to the tip. "Mom?" he croaked.

"Hush." she scolded gently. She cupped her hand and squirted a pool of baby oil in it. Setting the bottle on top of the column next to Robby, she rubbed her other hand into the pool. Then she put her hands on his shoulders and began rubbing the oil all over his shoulders and chest. Robby stood stiffly as her hands glided over his upper body. She used both hands on each of his arms.

She began talking to him softly as she slid her hands over his firm body. "This ... girl ... who excites you so much. Is she really so beautiful?"

Robby knew that his prick was about ready to produce a drip of precum. His cock ached and he wanted to touch it ... squeeze it. He tried to concentrate on his mother's voice. "Yes," he said tersely.

"And she won't ... help you? With your problem, I mean."

"It's not like that Mom. I mean she can't."

"Don't you think she wants to help you?" said his mother, her hands slipping lower and coating his sides and stomach with oil.

Robby was exquisitely aware of where each of her hands was. "No," he groaned. "She doesn't know I feel this way," he said through clenched teeth.

"But if she did know, she'd help you ... wouldn't she?" Valerie's hands fell to the sides of his hips. If she moved them around to his back, they'd slide onto his buttocks.

"Uhhh," groaned Robby. "She can't," he repeated.

"Let me just get your legs, darling," said Valerie as she knelt in front of him.

Robby was terrified. His mother's face was right in front of his rigid, practically-dripping cock. He stood just as rigidly, afraid to move. He felt her hands sliding all over his calves, and then moving upward. She oiled his left thigh, her hands sliding higher ... higher ... When she withdrew her hands to change to his right thigh he gasped. He didn't realize it but he was panting, as if he'd run a mile or more. Now she was at his right knee and her hands, again, were moving upward ... higher ... higher ... if she went any higher her fingers would hit his balls.

He was in agony.

Valerie stared at his penis, watching the precum ooze out of the tip as she slid her hands sensually all over his legs. Technically she was done. He was covered in baby oil, and the light would make him look like Adonis.

"If she loved you she would help you," said his mother.

"Sheee caaaann't," groaned Robby.

"I think she can," said his mother.

Her earlier vision came to pass as she leaned forward, her mouth open. She'd practiced with her husband and was proud of her ability to deep throat. So taking her son's cock into her throat was not work, or a chore or anything other than her fantasy coming true. If anything, it was easier, because he wasn't as thick. Her lips kissed the tip first, and then flowed around the head as her tongue flicked all around the tip. Her lips kept going, though, slowly, inexorably inching down his shaft until her nose was tickled by his springy dark hair. Her hands slid around to his buttocks and she cupped them, pulling him into her. Then she flexed the muscles normally used for swallowing and they squeezed the head of his cock.

Have you ever heard an old man, one who has a lot of pain walking, and he makes it across a large room to a nice, deep soft chair? Then he turns around and levers himself into that chair, taking the load off his tired bones and sore joints. Then he makes a sort of a combination sigh/moan/groan as he settles into the comfort of that chair. It is a sound of immense contentment and happiness.

The only other thing that sounds like that is a young man in Robby's situation. As his unbelieving eyes watched his prick disappear into his beautiful mother's mouth, his body bent backwards, making a bow. He didn't know what to do with his hands, and they waved at his sides as he began making little disjointed sounds.

Valerie began dragging her mouth off his cock, slowly, letting her lips caress every inch of his hard flesh and sucking as she pulled off. She had to pull hard with her hands because he was leaning back too far. When she got to the tip she pulled back until her lips were just kissing the tip again and then she reversed herself and swallowed him whole again. She heard his groan and he leaned forward again, into her advancing mouth. Keeping one hand firmly on his buttock, she let the other one slide around until it was cupping his heavy balls and she lightly used her fingers to move his balls around in their thick sack.

Robby, who had been ready to spurt for an hour or more, gave a strangled grunt and gave up trying to control his urge to cum. "Ahh ... ahhh ... Mom ... ahhhhh," was all he got out before his semen raced through his prick and burst into his mother's mouth. Immediately she pulled back until her lips were closed just behind the head of his shaft and she sucked and swallowed, then did it again, and again as his cock continued delivering his pent up, teenaged passion into her mouth.

She kept her lips firmly clamped around him, twirling her tongue gently over the head until he bent over forward and his hands slid into her hair. She let his member slip out of her mouth and, licking her lips, she looked up into her son's eyes.

"If she loved you, she would do that for you."

She stood up, no longer doubting or trying to "be normal". She stood tall and proud, her naked body flushed, happy with his warm spend in her stomach. Her hands came out and she positioned him back against the column. Leaving her robe on the floor where it had fallen, she returned to her easel as if nothing had happened and she picked up her brush.

"That's much better," she said, beginning to paint. "Do you feel better darling?"

"Oh fuck yes," he said automatically. "Oh ... sorry Mom."

"Good. I'm glad I could help. You look much more relaxed. Tense the muscles in your chest just a little. Yes. Good."

She got more done in the next twenty minutes than she had in the whole three previous days. The painting was beginning to look a lot like her son.

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