Their nonstop sexual antics lasted all morning then, until the five young boys at last had to rush home for lunch. They all quickly pulled on their clothes and headed out the door.
“Tomorrow's Sunday,” she reminded Del, slipping her hand into the back of his jeans and giving his young bare ass a quick squeeze just before he left. “I'll be home all day, so I might need some more help with some cleaning.”
He gave her a long look, a smile playing across his lips.
“Really?” he asked her. But then, when he just got a little shrug from her in return, he said, “If you need us, we'll all be here.”
“That's great,” she said.
And as soon as the five preteen boys trotted off toward their homes, Honor headed back out to her garage.
She hit the button to close the garage door, then began to haul everything down off the shelves again and leave it all on the gray cement floor. It was tiring work, and took her almost a solid hour, but she felt it was well worth it.
And she was getting better and faster at it, creating a fast and easily cleaned-up mess in her garage.
After all, it was her fourth time emptying those damn shelves in two weeks.
The Very Good Son
“Billy, you need to get up,” my mom called into my room. “I want you out of bed before my coffee's done, dear. You know the routine.”
I pulled the covers over my head, but I knew it was no use. My mother insisted on waking me up before she left for work early each morning, even though it was the start of summer and I didn't have any school.
I'd been done with the 5th-grade for just two weeks. And it was summer vacation I lived for, laying around like the lazy 11-year-old kid I apparently was, without a single care in the world. It was like heaven to a boy like me.
“Sure, mom, I'll be down in a minute,” I told her.
It was typical, of course, that I'd sneak right back into bed as soon as her car pulled out of the driveway. Then I'd sleep to about noon. It was great. Though sometimes she'd come home at lunch and be annoyed if I was still sleeping.
She just liked it so much better when I was up.
We lived alone, my mother and I, my father only a long-gone distant memory. And the other kids at school, the boys in particular, all thought my mom was hot, at least that's what they said. Mainly because she was so blonde. And so very young, for being a boy's mom.
She'd had me while she was still in high school, so she was still only a youthful 27-years-old. But she'd managed to finish school, get in two years of college, and get a great job as an Executive Assistant for a big CPA firm.
Meaning we did all right for a single parent home. That's what she always told me, anyway,
The other typical thing when I woke up was I had what the other boys called 'morning wood,' a stiff dick that poked the front of my lightweight pajamas into a tent. As usual, it was so hard it was almost painful, throbbing against my pajamas like that.
So I slid my skinny dick out into the open and started pulling on it, masturbating, my hand moving quickly up and down.
“Billy, it's time to get up,” she called out again. “You know the rule.”
Yes, I did.
But I also knew I had a couple of more minutes. So I started masturbating even faster. It felt really good, as it should, and I was confident that I could ejaculate really fast.
“ Now, Billy,” she called, and I knew I was out of time. Timing, after all, was everything. Or so my mom said. “I don't want to be late for work.”
So I was standing beside the kitchen table in 15 seconds flat.
My slender blonde mother smiled at me as she poured her hot coffee into her large plastic travel mug, so she could drink it on her drive to work.
“Sorry, mom,” I shrugged. “I was sleeping so good, it was hard to get up.”
“You're definitely up now, dear,” she said with a little grin, her fingers encircling my rigid penis. I'd come to the table with it still sticking out of my pajamas. She continued what I'd started, jacking me off. “And you're so hard this morning.”
I nodded.
“I started upstairs,” I told her. “So I wouldn't make you late for work.”
“You're so thoughtful.”
Using a combination of her warm hand and her mouth, she rapidly got me to the brink of my morning ejaculation. And then-as I leaned over the table-she aimed my throbbing 11-year-old dick into her large travel mug so that my cum spurted explosively, and many thrilling times, into her coffee.
“Uhhh, that always feels so great!” I gasped, as I came. “No wonder I have a boner every morning.”
It came out as fast as ever, in opaque whitish jets, only the merest splatter getting on the rim of her travel mug. My mom squeezed the last couple of drops of my semen into her Columbian blend, quickly licked the sticky excess off the edge of her mug, and then securely put the top on.
“You're a very good son,” she told me, as she always did.
It was our little joke.
Because I was a very good son. And every morning, I was even the cream in her coffee.