The score was 17 -13. Brad flew into the end zone with two seconds left and the quarterback fired the bomb. It went in and out of Brad’s hands as the gun went off. Game over, we lost. I never saw my son as depressed as he was that night. He didn ’t say a word all the way home. Nothing helped, he wouldn’t talk to anybody or eat anything. I sat next to him on the couch and tried to cheer him up, but it was no good. I decided to try something else. What wouldn’t a mother do to help her son?
I reached over and started to rub his crotch. He looked at me surprised but I could feel the bulge in his pants begin to grow. He said nothing when I opened his fly and reached for his dick. It was big and hard. Even bigger than his father’s and it really turned me on. I leaned over and teased the head of it with my tongue, the veins on his rod began to throb. I took it all of it into my mouth. His breathing told me how much he was enjoying what I was doing and I could feel his hand reach between my legs.
As his fingers found their way into my wet cunt the head of his cock got so big it almost choked me. With a loud groan he moved his fingers deeper into me and began to convulse with pleasure as his hot, salty wad filled my mouth faster than I could swallow it. As I gobbled down his offerings the joy juice ran down my thighs with equal pleasure. I looked up into Brad’s face and he smiled at last. “Thanks, Mom. That was great!” It worked better than making his favorite food ever did.
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