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Introduction:

Rona found her 15 year old's stash. She discliplines him but things get out of hand
I’m Rona Hadley and I’m a lucky gal, I’m thirty seven years old, pretty attractive though I could afford to shed ten pounds and have a great fifteen year old son, tall, already nearly six feet and handsome. His father and I divorced when Michael, my son was only a year old. I haven’t seen that womanizing rascal since.

I’ve got a Masters Degree in computer engineering. All of my work is done by computer so I don’t need a cubicle in some gigantic office complex. I’m able to work from home. I’ve set up all of my equipment in what was at one time a third bedroom, now it’s my office. But I still treat it like a job. I get up in the morning, shower and dress for business, today I have on a dotted Swiss dress, I have my breakfast then go to upstairs to work. Even though work is just across the hall from my bedroom I usually stay in the office ‘til 5:00 p.m. then leave work and “go home.”

Today though things were a little slow so I took advantage of the break to do some laundry; I’d gotten behind on my household chores and took this opportunity to catch up. I’d put in a load then come back to my office, work until the load was washed, toss it in the dryer and load up the washer again.

I’d washed and dried three loads, that was all I was going to do, and the day was still young. It was only 10:00 a.m. so I hung the hanging clothes and folded the rest. Usually I just put Mike’s folded clothes on his bed and let him put them away but I had plenty of time so I thought I’d do a good deed and put them away for him.

I wish I hadn’t and I’m glad I did.

When I opened his bottom drawer to stow some folded tee shirts I saw a bag that was unmistakably marijuana. Honestly I wasn’t too steamed about that. Oh we would have a talk about it but I’d tried it, too when I was in college. I picked it up but under the bag was a pipe, unquestionable a crack pipe. Now this was quite another story, marijuana was one thing, crack cocaine an entirely more serious matter. He and I would be having a “come to Jesus” session this evening. I took both the baggie and the pipe to my room and put them on my night stand.

I couldn’t get any more work done, I was too distracted by what I’d found. I paced around for a while getting angrier at him by the second. By four o’clock I was livid. I talked to myself, told me to chill, I didn’t want to confront Mike in my current mood, I might go postal on him.

I made my self a gin and tonic and went out to sit by the pool. Maybe the sound of the water would sooth me and, to some measure it did.

When Mike got home at four forty-five he just yelled, “Hey Mom, I’m home,” and went to his room. Just as well, I was still seething; not the full blown boil of a little earlier but still I was simmering.

At five thirty I went in to prepare supper; I had it on the table by six and called, “Michael, come to dinner.”

Mike was scared. She only called him Michael when she was really pissed and his stash was gone; she must have found it. He thought, Oh shit. He went downstairs to face the music.

I thought I played it pretty cool. I served dinner and we ate. I didn’t mention my find. Mike seemed unsettled though. I thought maybe he’d discovered that his drugs were gone. After our meal Mike cleaned the table and loaded the dishwasher, it was his job.

I went up to my room to get things ready, I’d decided he was going to spank him; maybe I’d ground him, too, but, for sure a good ass tanning was in order. I laid my hairbrush on my nightstand and pulled the chair out from my vanity. His spanking was going to the old fashioned kind, over my lap and bare bottomed. I thought the embarrassment factor combined with the pain would probably do the trick.

I called for him to come to my office then I walked across the hall. I think I felt more comfortable behind my desk than anywhere else.

Mike came to the door to my office and asked, “Yes Mom?”

I said, “Come in and have a seat. I think we need to have a talk.”

He shuffled over and sat. He had such a hang dogged expression on his face; I knew that he knew that he was busted.

“Michael, what do you think I found in your dresser drawer today?” I rhetorically asked.

“My stash?”

“Yes, that’s right, your stash. Where did it come from?”

“I bought it; Mom what’s the big deal? Everybody smokes.”

“Well Michael, we could start with the fact that it’s illegal; then there’s the fact that, if you should get busted and have a drug conviction it would keep you out of quite a few colleges and the best jobs not to mention the military, God forbid that you would choose to enlist, how about that?”

“Mom even you smoked, I know that.”

“Yes Michael, I did, when I was in college I did and, no, I don’t think it hurt me or marked me for life and if that was all I was talking about we’d still be having a conversation and I’d still be warning you about the potential consequences, but that, the marijuana isn’t my major problem. Michael that was a crack pipe that I found in your drawer; a crack pipe Michael. Crack cocaine is perhaps the most addictive substance known to man; why would you even experiment with that stuff?”

“Ah Mom, it’s not that bad. I tried it and I’m not hooked.”

“Michael, I don’t think I’m getting through to you. Crack cocaine can ruin your life. You’re my child, my son; I don’t want that to happen to you.”


“Mom, cut me some slack, I’m not gonna get hooked on crack, I’m careful with it.”

I was getting into high dudgeon again, I yelled at him, “Michael Hadley, damn it, the use of crack in indefensible. You’re not going to smoke that stuff again, not a single rock; do you hear me.”

“Of course I hear you, you’re screaming at me. But you don’t get it, I can handle it and the high’s the highest.”

I lost it, came unglued, spun out of control, “No you’re not going to use it, I’m going to give you something to think about, to think about every time you even consider smoking a rock.”

“What are you gonna do Mom? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to spank you ‘til you can’t sit, that’s what I’m going to do,” I hissed at him.

Michael looked at himself, all six feet and one hundred eighty pounds of hard male muscle the looked at me, a towering five foot three in one inch heels and scaling in at one thirty-five (see I said I could loose ten pounds) and chuckled, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh Michael, I’m not going to fight you, you’re going to be a volunteer.”

“Why would I do that Mom?”

I still have your stash, the weed and the pipe. If I was a good citizen I’d give them to the authorities and if you refuse your punishment that’s where they’re going. Michael, you don’t seem to understand, I’d rather see you busted than to watch your life slide away from you as a crack addict. But it’s your choice; I certainly can’t wrestle you down and force you.” (Checkmate, I thought)

Michael’s bravado evaporated. “Mom you wouldn’t really turn me in would you?”

“Son I meant it when I said I’d rather see you busted than become a crack addict, so, to answer you, yes I would.”

“But if I take a spanking that will be it. It’ll be over, no cops, nothing like that?”

“If you don’t do it again, use crack I mean, it’ll be over. Michael, I don’t mind if you smoke a little weed, I might even share a joint with you some evening but I draw the line at crack.”

“Ok, Mom, I’ll take the spanking.”

“I thought you’d see reason. Go to your room and get undressed then meet me in my bedroom.”

I was sitting on my vanity chair when Michael came into the room. He walked over to me saying, “I’m ready.”

“I looked him over, he still had on his tighty whiteys; I said, “No I don’t think so. Loose the underwear.”

“No Mom, please, let me keep my shorts on,” be pleaded.

“Michael, my punishment, my rules, drop your briefs and get over my lap.”

He tried one last time, saying, “Please Mom.”

My answer was short and succinct, “Now.”

He slowly lowered his underwear. I hadn’t seen Michael naked, completely naked since he was eleven or twelve; he’d certainly grown. His flaccid penis hung half way down his thigh. I thought, my God he must be nine or ten inches when he’s hard. I looked away, that wasn’t something a mother needed to think about. He bent forward and crawled across my legs.

I scooted him forward so I could get his butt as the highest point, so I could get a better aim at my target. I could see his balls between his legs and I didn’t want to hit him there.
I was still attired in my dotted Swiss dress, I should have changed. It had ridden up. Michael was laying across my nylon clad thighs. I pushed him forward so that his balls dangled between my legs, out of the way, out of the line of fire; I slapped his butt.

He jumped, didn’t scream but lurched forward. I hit him again, low on his bottom, getting his prime spank spot then I went to work. I started at the tops of his cheeks and worked down ‘til I was to where buttocks meets thigh then spanked back up the other side until I was at the top again. Michael still hadn’t cried out. Over and over, I repeated the sequence, down one side and back up the other. His bottom was a flaming red and still I hadn’t heard a whimper. I slapped the backs of his thighs until they were crimson then stopped, my hand hurt and this wasn’t working, I wanted to hear some sobbing, some crying, and some pleading. I picked up the hairbrush.

My first stroke I hit him hard. He wailed, “Nooo, nooo,” and started to slide off my lap. I grabbed him around the waist with my free left arm and pulled him back onto my lap and I clamped my legs shut, trapping his cock and balls between my thighs, he wasn’t going anywhere. I whaled away, pounding on him, the brush raising welts, Michael began to cry. He was sobbing, “No more, Mommy, no more, please.” He hadn’t called me Mommy in years but the spanking was bringing the little boy out in him, I continued to spank.

Michael was sobbing, crying out each time I struck him. He was trying to escape, wriggling, trying to get off my lap. I pulled him harder against me, high onto my lap and clamped him with my thighs, lashing him time and again.

Then a strange thing happened, his sobs lessened and his breathing had changed, he was nearly panting and he was pumping his hips. He was against me between my clasped thighs, and suddenly I realized that he was against my crotch, the only thing separating us was a thin strip of nylon panty hose and the panties I was wearing. I just beat on him harder, I w as breathing hard because of the exertion and he was panting in sexual arousal. He was getting hard, God I could feel him pressing against me, stiffening. I beat him some more, trying to get him to stop. It didn’t work; he kept rubbing harder and harder against me. I spanked on, finally he seemed to just collapse on my lap.

I thought I’d won; he’d been broken from his spanking. He just continued to lie limply over me until his breathing leveled out. He slid off my lap, gained his feet and ran to his room, shutting his door.

I sat for a few minutes, I felt I’d accomplished my goal, I didn’t think he’d use crack again without thinking twice and then a third time. I rested for a while then got up and pulled my dress over my head, I thought I’d take a bath in my Jacuzzi tub. I unhooked my bra and tossed it in the clothes hamper then rolled my panty hose down and I got a shock, at the crotch they were soaking. I dropped them and slipped out of my panties. They were sopping, too. I looked at my vanity chair; there was a huge deposit of a white mess on the seat. It registered, Michael had ejaculated over my clothing and the chair. I cleaned up the seat of the chair, I didn’t want it stained then picked up my panties. I have no idea why but I sniffed them. I could smell myself, of course but the overwhelming scent was that of male semen. I hadn’t experienced that aroma in years but it was still heady, eliciting my arousal. I threw them into the hamper; it wouldn’t do to let my mind go there. I turned on the water to fill the tub, it’s large so while it ran I donned a robe and got a bottle of wine, an inexpensive bubbly. I wanted to sip while I bathed. With wine in hand I went back to the bath, it was nearly ready. I poured in a little scented bath oil, turned off the water and turned on the jets then stepped in and slipped down into the water leaving only my head exposed.

The six jets pulsed wave after wave of water against my sides, relaxing my muscles and the wine was flowing down my throat relaxing my mind. Before the water had cooled, I’d finished the bottle. I turned sideways and let the jets do their magic on my crotch and bottom, I even lewdly spread myself so the water hit me where it felt the best. That was my love life, either a vibrator or a Jacuzzi jet. I had a small orgasm then stood up, turned off the jets and opened the drain. Turning on the shower I rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. After toweling dry I decided I wanted a little more wine. I put on my robe and went downstairs for another bottle, the same, more bubbly. I came back to my room turned on some jazz music and slid under the sheet. I put the pillows behind me, propping me up and sipped the wine while I listened to the jazz.

Maybe I’d dozed off or more likely I was so mellowed out by the wine and the music, my eyes were closed but I felt a weight on the bed. I looked up, it was Michael; he had on his pajamas and he crawled up beside me, his eyes were still tear stained.

“Mommy I want to apologize for today, I know I sounded like a wise assed punk when I was talking to you, and believe you me, my ass is wiser now; I won’t use crack again but did you mean it when you said you’d share a joint with me?”

I’d nearly finished the second bottle and I was mellow, I said, “Roll one up; it’s there on the night stand and do you want a little wine with it?”

“Can I?” he asked.

“Sure but the rest of this bottle’s mine, Go get another bottle and a glass for yourself.”

He was out and back in a flash. Joint rolled and fired and wine poured, we sat side by side and shared that doobie.

We were both pretty relaxed, Mike was lying on his side next to me, his bottom was too sore to sit on it, when he said, “Mommy I’m sorry about that other thing, too.”

I was a little over the edge, I thought I’d play with him. I asked. “What other thing was that?”

In what was almost a little boy’s voice he said, “Mommy, you know?”

“No, tell me.”

“Mommy I came in your lap while you were spanking me, you know that,” he shyly said.

I was in the mood, I teased, “Was that what it was? I thought I’d peed my panties,” I jibed.

The wine and the smoke had more control of me than I thought or I’d never have said what I said next.

“Yeah Mikey, I knew what happened. I could feel you, how big are you, do you know?”

“Sure I know, I know, I’m bigger than I want to be. All the guys in Gym class just stare at me when we shower and the rumors get around, most of the girls are afraid to date me.”

Mouth overrunning ass I just had to say, “My God Mike, how big are you.”

“Mommy, do we have to talk about this, you’re embarrassing me.”

“No, I don’t really have to know but if the guys stare and the girls run it must be impressive,” I said.

He took a hit on the joint, passed it to me and gulped his wine saying, “Mommy it’s almost twelve inches. I measured it at just a little over 11 7/8th inches and the girth is almost four inches. What the hell am I going to do with something like that? I’ll never get a date.”

I thought, Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch, he’s right, most girls, hell most women would shy, no not shy, run like hell from that awesome member.

To inject a little levity, yeah, I can be a smart-ass I said, “Well the good news is we don’t have to worry about paying for a college education, your future’s made; Ron Jeremy, move over.”

He stared at me like I was from Mars. “Mommy what are you talking about?”

“Ron Jeremy, he’s kinda like a movie star…aaah, never mind, I was joking.”

Dumb me, the weed and the wine were talking not the well educated mind with a Masters Degree asked, “Are you really that big? Let me see.”

Whoa, that one really came from left field or more likely out of the bottom of that third bottle of wine.

I know he thought I was out of my mind and I probably was but he got off the bed and dropped his PJ bottoms, letting them fall to the floor then he crawled back up beside me. It was pretty impressive, like the guys in gym class would see it, maybe 8 ½ inches but he was flaccid, limp.

Oh yes, I was somewhere I never thought I’d ever go. I reached over and touched it.

“Mommy, he pleaded.”

It jumped when I touched it. I took it in my hand. It swelled, God did it swell, lengthening and widening the monster came to life. It seemed disembodied from my son, this huge apparition, I squeezed it. It leapt at me, my hand couldn’t span its circumference and gripping it like a ball bat, both of my hands still left about four inches unwrapped.

There was not a lot to say, I looked up into his eyes, both hands still holding him and said, “My God Michael.”

“Yeah, my God Michael,” he parroted. “Mommy I’m only fifteen, what am I going to be when I’m fully grown, fourteen or fifteen inches and bigger around than a ball bat. This thing isn’t a cock, it’s a club. Mommy, I’ll never have a girlfriend, I’ll never have a wife and a family, I’m a freak. All the guys think they want to be huge, they don’t know, they don’t even know and they never will.”

I thought back to his father, he was well endowed, around nine inches and maybe three and a quarter inches in girth, he’d filled me, damn had he filled me, he could even hurt me if he wasn’t careful and he was a midget compared to his son.

I still had both hands wrapped around him and I started masturbating him, slowly, while we talked.

“Mike, have you ever been with a girl or a woman?” I asked.

“You mean have sex with someone?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“No Mommy, only two gals have even seen it and they ran, I mean even if I was Usain Bolt I couldn’t have caught them.”

“Do you want to? Would you like to?” I asked. My tummy was roiling and my head, well my head certainly wasn’t where it should have been. My pussy was clenching even at the thought and I was already leaking, I would have been sopping my panties if I had any on, but I hadn’t put any on after I got out of the bath, as it was, the only thing I had on was my robe and I could feel it getting wet, Oh tell the truth ok? My robe was soaking under me. I hadn’t had a man in me it fourteen years and I wanted one, no, not one, I wanted my fifteen year old son to try to fill his Mommy, try I say, not because he’s not capable of filling me, quite the contrary, I probably can’t handle him.

“Of course Mommy, I want a girl to love me and that I can love.”

I was still gripping his phallus, slowly stroking him. He was erect, when I said, “I know someone whom you love and who loves you, do you want anything else?”

He looked at me, our eyes met and I knew he knew who I was talking about, he said, “Are you sure Mommy?”

I pulled him over me, mounting him in my saddle and taking a tube of lube from the night stand. I handed it to him and I felt him lubricate me then I watched as he slicked himself up.

Again, he asked, “Are you sure Mommy?”

I nodded my head yes. I was going to do this, I was going to be my son’s sexual salvation.

At my nod, my tacit acquiescence, he thrust into me, my scream was still on my lips, my expression of agony tattooed on my face as he split me and tore me, rent me, wrecking me; me who thought his daddy was big only to quickly learn what big was, I felt my blood flowing done the insides of my thighs, my blood, not the virginal blood I’d shed with his father but foolish blood, challenging blood, my blood, he’d torn my, torn me badly. I passed out.
6 comments

anonymous readerReport

2011-09-05 04:31:47
Pissed or not, I like it. It ain't the best--I like more force and remorse--but it ain't bad.

anonymous readerReport

2011-03-10 20:27:56
12 inches? sure u can fit it in if u try, but BOY is that gonna hurt, and with a 12 incher, his dick must be as hard as spaghetti

anonymous readerReport

2011-02-18 04:27:34
first u have two stories that r the same second i must ask y u left off right there when the storie was getting juicy

anonymous readerReport

2011-01-30 10:59:26
No, I won't be writing a part 2. I didn't particularly like this tale. I was pissed when I wrote it. I'd just screwed up and deleted a 44 page four part tale of sex with three females. A mother and her daughters, 12 & 13. I liked it and I was pissed at myself for losing it. This sorry piece of shit was my revenge against me.
Wirepaladin

looking104Report

2011-01-29 21:15:12
will you write part 2 ??

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