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What I had to do to bring my son back to life.
If you want 10″ cocks, women who orgasm in 10 seconds flat, simultaneous orgasms or gallons of cum then I’m sorry, but this is not the right story for you. I like to write about ordinary people with ordinary sexual appetites in slightly out of the ordinary situations. I try to keep the plot lines as near to reality as I can.
I try to keep the sex as true to my own experience as possible. I love to write about kissing, stroking, how sex feels and sex as an encounter which involves all the senses. I do like to ‘get dirty’ but only in the height of my character’s arousal. All my stories have my own experience in them, but generally they are not autobiographical.
This story is slightly different to my normal loving mum-son plot. Maddy remains reluctant throughout. It is pure sex with no sex-emotion bond.
Everyone in this story is over 18.
Constructive feedback welcome. I am from UK, so UK spelling applies. Thank you for reading my story.
Act 1 — Knock at the door
I remember like it was yesterday. That knock on the door. Official and insistent, a demand to be answered. My heart sank when I saw a policeman standing in my doorway. Through the fog that invaded my mind, he informed me that my son, Harry, had been in a motorcycle accident. He was alive but seriously injured. That’s all I remember of the conversation. It was hardly a conversation. I didn’t say a word and I wasn’t taking in anything the policeman was saying. All I could see (in my head) was my son lying at the side of a road like a rag doll, all I could feel was blind panic.
Three months later and Harry’s body had made a complete recovery. His muscles had wasted a bit, but he was unmarked by his ordeal. Unmarked apart from his brain, which stubbornly refused to come out of its coma.
“Mrs Smith, would you like me to repeat any of that?” I shook my head to signify ‘no’. The consultant, Mrs Gillespie, had just finished bringing Bob and I up to speed with this week’s progress or more like lack of progress. The hospital had tried the normal drugs they use to bring patients out of comas, but Harry had stubbornly resisted all their best efforts. Of all the highs and lows of the past three months this seemed like ‘the end of the road’ and I was staring out of the window.
“There must be something else we can try.” Bob’s voice, full of emotion, was cracking up.
“Oh yes, I didn’t mean to sound so fatal. We have found that many patients respond to stimulus. In Harry’s case he responds quite well to sound and touch.”
“Great, so do more of that then.”
“Indeed, but it must be targeted and effective. You see all stimuli lose their effectiveness over time. Its’ like patients gets bored with the same stimuli. We have to find something intense and deliverable over a relatively short period of time. For example, we had a musician last week in a very similar state to Harry. We moved him to rehearsal studios and his band went through their repertoire. We measured his brain activity throughout and concentrated on building it up. When we got to his favourite song, we put a microphone in his hand and had someone sing the lyrics badly. It was the final push he needed. He woke up.
“Harry’s not a musician.” I said glumly.
“I understand that Mrs Smith, we just have to find the thing that most stimulates Harry. We have some ideas, but they are a little delicate.”
I looked at her and frowned. “Delicate?” I repeated
“Yes,” she cleared her throat, “the nurses have found that he always gets an erection when they give him a bed bath.” Bob spluttered I carried on frowning. She continued “Not surprising really, most young people react this way. We could with your approval continue with this therapy but would need to intensify it.”
I was still frowning. “Intensify it?” I became self-aware. I must have looked really unco-operative. I tried to smile. “Can you be a bit more specific? What does this therapy entail?” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I said ‘therapy’, but I was aware I had probably failed.
“Well, to put it bluntly we need to find out what turns him on.”
Bob said “He’s an 18-year-old boy, sex probably”
“Indeed, but we need to be more targeted. Does he masturbate?”
Bob spluttered again. I decided to stop being so detached. “Yes, he does…… a lot.” Bob looked at me quizzically; a sort of ‘how do you know’ look. I returned his look. “A mum knows…..His room smells for a start. His socks are usually damp or even wet and he sometimes misses tidying up used tissues under his bed.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“No, and I think he is still a virgin.” I replied.
“Does he watch porn?”
I was on a roll now, eager to prove how well I knew my son, but I hadn’t spotted the tiger trap ahead. “Yes, on his laptop.”
“What sort?”
Oh, fuck there was the danger. “Just porn,” I prevaricated.
“Can you be more specific, please, Mrs Smith?”
“Not really, gemlik escort just porn.”
Bob chipped in, slightly frustrated, “If you have looked on his laptop you must know what sites he visits or what videos he watches.”
I flashed back “I’m not spying on him Bob. One day his laptop was open with him logged in. I had a quick look, that’s all.”
The consultant interjected before the ensuing argument gathered pace. “Mrs Smith, it is important that we identify with as much precision as possible the most effective stimuli. It could make the difference between success and failure.”
I was irritated. With my self for opening the door to this conversation and with both Bob and the consultant for making me say what I didn’t want to. “OK, OK…… mother and son porn…….. Happy now?” I glared at Bob.
Silence.
The consultant was the first to speak. “OK, I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m not surprised. It is common for teenage boys to fantasise over their mothers.”
I was not happy at all. “No, it’s not. Its weird. It’s wrong.”
Bob interjected. “I wanted to have sex with my mum.”
Silence.
“You never told me that.”
“Well, it isn’t the sort of thing you broadcast, but I did. I used to steal her knickers.” He smiled. He always had a way of lightening the moment.
“Dirty fucker.” I nearly smiled at him and turned back to the consultant. I put my hand up to my mouth as if to stop any more swear words coming out. “That explains why I’m always short of knickers, you nick them.”
“I don’t, it’s your darling son.” We (sort of) laughed and I turned to the consultant. “OK so he likes mother and son porn. I’m not sure how that helps. Are you going to get nurses to impersonate me?”
“Oh no that’s out of the question. Although there is never a shortage of nurses willing to give your son a bed bath it would be unprofessional of them to be involved in this type of therapy. We have specialist we can recommend if you want to proceed.”
I frowned. “A specialist?” I thought ‘I really must get out of the habit of repeating the consultants’ words.
“Yes, we would make Harry comfortable and attach pads to his head to measure brain activity. The is a LCD screen in the treatment room wall which shows a trace of the activity from each pad and then a number at the top right. This number represents the average activity over the last five seconds. The resting brain produces a number around 5 and we aim to stimulate until we can get to 100.”
“OK, but I’m still not clear what your specialist does.” I was not purposely being dumb.
Bob had understood immediately. “The specialist wanks him off.” He turned, for confirmation, to the consultant.
“I may have put that differently, Mr Smith, but yes our specialist provides sexual stimulation.”
The consultant set out the rest of the details. We agreed Bob and I would discuss it further. If we agreed, we would have to pay ‘the specialist’ directly.
We really had no choice and so a week later we met at the hospital.
Act 2 — Therapy
Harry was lying on his back on a bed which was more like a massage table. He had a number of pads on his head wired to a computer. We were in the consultant’s adjacent office.
“Ok so in a moment I will call down to reception and get, Heather, our specialist to come up. She isn’t our usual lady, but she comes highly recommended. We need to keep our voices down so Harry only hears what we want him to hear. I will communicate with Harry throughout. I will be describing what is going on, trying to coax him out of his coma and trying to heighten the effects of the stimulation.”
Bob grinned, “You are going to talk dirty to him.”
The consultant didn’t respond to him. “You can stay here, or you can stand in the treatment room. I’m afraid if you want to see the screen you will need to be in the room, and I must ask for complete silence no matter what happens. OK? any questions?”
“Is Heather going to pretend to be me. I’m not comfortable with that.”
“No, at least not to start with. I understand your reluctance, but I think we need to face the fact that Harry’s favourite porn is mother — son porn. I will not introduce you into his head unless I really need to. Is that OK?”
I hesitated but knew I had no real choice. “Yes,” I whispered.
Heather arrived, we were introduced, and all led into the treatment room by the consultant. Heather was a pretty woman in her early 30’s. She looked like she was no stranger to the gym. She was dressed ‘normally’, I am not sure what I was expecting but she was not at all slut like. The consultant took a seat next to the treatment table in front of a computer screen. A mirror image of which was on the wall in front of us. I stepped a little closer to Bob, very nervous and wishing I wasn’t there.
“Good morning, Harry, I hope you are well today. I’ve brought you a surprise today. I think you will enjoy it. I want you to enjoy it and the more you enjoy it altıparmak escort the more I want you to walk towards my voice. I know its foggy in there but relax, trust me and walk towards my voice.”
She nodded to heather who slowly pulled the sheet covering Harrys lower half. The screen number averaged about 7. She held his feet and then slowly moved both hands up his legs. I was willing the screen number up and think it probably averaged 8. “Can you feel those soft hands on your thighs, Harry? They are moving up, where will they stop?” Heather’s hands were past his knees and the moved onto his inner thighs, slightly nudging his legs apart. 9. She reached his balls, and her hands moved back to the top of his thighs. Still traveling upwards, she stopped when both hands were on his hips. Still 9.
Bob and I were transfixed. We couldn’t have spoken even if we had wanted to. I was still uncomfortable with the whole thing. I was seconds away from seeing a young woman hold my son in her hands. I noticed (in passing) his cock had grown but it was not hard. “Do you want the soft hands to touch you, Harry?” The consultant nodded to heather who, while stroking one hip moved her other hand to grasp him. 10, 11, 12.
Heather was slowly wanking him now. Moving his foreskin up and down his uncircumcised cock. It was responding to her. 13,14. “Oh you like that don’t you Harry……. those soft hands….. I wonder who is giving you this pleasure.” Heather had brought Harry to full erection. Well, I think it was fully erect, I had never seen him erect before and (frankly) had no desire to see him erect now. This was my son and none of this felt sexy in anyway.
Heather was now stoking his abdomen and caressing his balls as she continued to masturbate my son. “Can you walk towards my voice Harry? Do you want to see who is loving your cock.” I was momentarily surprised at the thought of a professional consultant using such coarse language. Heather continued he action. The meter was stalling around 14 and Mrs Gillespie nodded to Heather who bent her head down and enveloped my son’s cock in her mouth. “Does that feel nice Harry? That’s the feeling of a woman taking your cock in her mouth. Its’ so soft isn’t it? I hope you like it.” 14, 15 “Walk towards my voice Harry. Who has your cock in their mouth?”15, 16. Every time she asked the ‘who is it” question the numbers jumped. I knew if we didn’t get a bigger increase soon, I was going to get a mention. I really didn’t want this.
Heather was doing a lovely job on his cock. Long smooth strokes sometimes deep throating him. I have to admit I was a bit jealous. Not of her sucking my son (still makes me shiver) but her technique, oh wow!. I wondered if Bob was thinking ‘I wish Maddy gave BJ’s like that’. I made up my mind to try some of it out on Bob later.
Harry had plateaued at 16. ‘Come on son’ I said in my head ‘you have a lovely girl giving you expert head it must be worth more than 16’. Mostly I wanted the numbers to go up so that I didn’t get a mention.
“It’s a lovely feeling isn’t it Harry. Shall I tell you who it is? Would you like that?” 17, 18. Oh fuck she was going to mention me. “It’s your mother Harry.” 19, 20, 21,22, 23. “Your mother is sucking your cock. She’s making it big for you. She is here and wants you to walk towards my voice. She wants you to see her sucking your cock.”
No I fucking didn’t!! I didn’t want to be here, watching a woman fellate my son and someone whispering in his ear that it was his mum. I was willing the numbers up for Harry’s sake but down because I didn’t want him to fantasise about me.
Heather’s head rose as she gave her lips a rest. She continued to slowly masturbate him. My eyes were drawn to his cock and her hand slowly moving his foreskin over his helmet and then down his shaft. I was a late starter in life so I can’t say I have seen that many teenage cocks. They are wonderful. So virile and hard…….. Oh shit stop it!!! This is your son’s cock.
23, 22. “Harry walk to me. Come a see your mum. She loves your cock. She wants to kiss you. Do you want that?” 22, 23 24. Mrs Gillespie nodded to Heather and motioned her to kiss Harry. Heather shook her head. Mrs Gillespie nodded more instantly. Heather shook her head. ‘For fucks sake heather, kiss him’ my head screamed. Mrs Gillespie nodded one final time and Heather jumped out of character. “I don’t kiss Mrs Gillespie, it’s too personal.” 24,23, 22, 21. To be fair she continued to wank him, but we were losing the numbers.
Mrs Gillespie looked up at me. Her eyes widened as if to ask me a question. I shrugged my shoulders. Bob whispered in my ear. “Kiss him, quick before the numbers drop.” He slightly nudged me and I took a step. Then another. Then another. Before I knew it, I was beside the bed. Close enough now to smell his musk. To hear the slow sound of a soft wank. I looked down on him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed.
I bent down and kissed him. A soft motherly kiss. Partly osmangazi escort on his lips partly on his cheek. “That’s your mum Harry. Your mum is kissing you.” 19, 20, 21. She nodded to me to repeat. I did. “Can you smell her perfume, Harry? That’s’ your mum touching your cock and kissing you? Walk towards us, Harry” 21, 22. I kissed him fully on the lips. 22, 23. “Her lips are soft aren’t Harry? You have wanted to do this for so long and now your mum is holding you. Mum, show your love for Harry, make him feel good, kiss him more.”
I glared at her. What the fuck….. I was kissing him, what more did she want? 23,24. I stared at the numbers. What more did he want? I was being stupid; I knew what he wanted, and I wanted those numbers to go up. I gave Bob and Mrs Gillespie one final glare for good measure, took a deep breath and latched my lips to Harry’s. I moved my jaw against his. I pushed my tongue into his mouth. 24, 25, 26. “Oh Harry how good does that feel? Your mum has her tongue in your mouth and her hand on your cock. You can smell her. She wants you Harry, walk towards my voice.” I was kissing him like a sex starved teenager. I wanted those numbers up.
27, 28. Heather resumed her blow job. “Harry, can you feel that? Your cock is in your mum’s mouth again. It’s so soft isn’t it?. Her lips are so sexy to kiss, aren’t they?”
28, 29, 30. I guess when you are in a dream you can be kissed and have a BJ from the same person at the same time! I mused. What was I thinking!!! I’m bloody well kissing my own son whilst his erect cock is about a foot from my head. So close that heather’s evaporating saliva is carrying the smell of his rampant cock into my head. I can hear her slurping, and I don’t want to.
I had to stop this. I lifted my head, looked at Mrs Gillespie and shook it. She nodded, stood up and led Bob and I into her office. We left Heather trying to keep his numbers at least above 20.
Act 3 — In the office
“I’m sorry but I can’t do this.”
Bob looked at me “I know.”
“There must be another way, Mrs Gillespie.”
“I don’t think so Mrs Smith. In fact, I think we need to do more.”
“More?”
“Yes, Harry is making great progress. In my experience reaching 30 normally means that pushing on with more intense stimuli is likely to be effective and should lead to 100 and eventual consciousness. “
“That’s really good, but Heather was giving him a BJ and I was kissing him like a crazed teenager. What is more?”
Mrs Gillespie hesitated, and Bob spoke up. “I don’t think you need a picture, do you?”
I hate it when he is right. “OK…… so Heather has full sex with him. I don’t really want to be in the room at the same time as that.”
Mrs Gillespie hesitated and spoke slowly. “I’m afraid it’s not a simple as that Mrs Smith. Firstly, our therapists are not prostitutes. Heather will not have sex with your son. Secondly, you have seen then the effect you have on the numbers. It’s not Heather he sees in his head. Thirdly, we need to decide quickly. Getting to 30 is not easy and in my experience impossible if we reschedule another therapist.
There was a long silence while our brains computed what we had just been told. I lost my cool with frustration. “YOU WANT ME TO FUCK MY SON!!” I shouted. I couldn’t help it. The door was open to the treatment room and a moment later Heather came to the door. “His number just shot up to 37.”
“Thank you, Heather, can you go back to Harry, please? Keep going for a few more minutes while I finish discussing the situation with Mr and Mrs Smith.” The consultant turned to Bob and I and said softly. “I will give you a few minutes to talk it over. Harry’s numbers will be slowly coming back down but as long as Heather can keep him above 20 we should be OK.”
As soon as she left I turned to Bob. “I can’t do this Bob. The thought of Harry in me makes me feel so uncomfortable I can’t describe it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK Maddy. I understand and I’m not going to try to talk you into it.”
“You are a kind man, Bob, and I love you.” I smiled weakly.
“Not that kind, Maddy. I’m not going to try and talk you into it because we both know you are going to do it. I know you don’t want to do it, and I don’t want you to do it, but it looks like our best chance of saving our son, so what choice do we have?”
“Bastard…….” I shrugged. I knew he was right. “But how are you going to feel knowing I have another man in me. Fucking me. Our son.”
“Not great, but I think it’s a sort of rebirth.” We called Mrs Gillespie back into the office. While she was walking back, I was able to compose myself and think about practicalities.
“OK I will do it, but I have a number of preconditions: Heather has to go, all your blinds need to come down, the doors have to be locked and Bob stays in the office. I don’t want him to see me have sex with our son. I am not on birth control, so I need condom and last of all I need Harry’s face covered. I don’t want to see him while I’m doing what I am doing.”
Mrs Gillespie nodded. “All fine except we don’t have condoms. It’s better for him if its natural but I can prescribe a morning after pill. I’m afraid his face needs to uncovered. I need to be able to see it for signs of consciousness and besides I’m afraid you are going to have to kiss him again.”
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