Young Man of the House
It was four o'clock on the dot when Isha Avrokni arrived home after school. Although he had been born in America quite unlike his mother and absent father, he did not see eye to eye with his peers... or so he liked to say, but the end result either way was a lacking social life. He had all he wanted at home, and his mother was his closest friend when she wasn't annoying him to death.
He dropped his book bag by the couch as he fell into its familiar cushions. He kicked off his sneakers and looked with a mildly snide expression of disinterest at the TV. It was off, the remote was across the room near mom's armchair, and that was fine and well. There was homework to be done, and the fastidious Isha hauled his book bag into his lap.
Clipboard notched in his arm and a sheet of dizzying algebraic math in its holder, Isha began the time-consuming but not at all challenging process of solving for X, or Y, or whatever letters had the nerve to pretend they were numbers. He enjoyed the process of making right the incomplete equations on the page.
Almost immediately he heard the hush whisper of feet on the carpet, the clink of ice cubes in a glass of Kool-Aid - always the green kind, because that was the thirteen-year-old wolf's favorite flavor.
"There is my little sweetie-boy," purred Seras in an accent far better suited to the harsh consonants of her native Russian. She leaned over Isha, her smile beaming, her colossal tits threatening to force their way out of her cute pink-pinstriped t-shirt as if they were a pair of animals with minds of their own. The modest neck of the shirt was distended into a gaping V-shape which showed only never-ending cleavage.
Isha took his drink along with a glance at his mother's breasts before he obliged her with a smile. "Thanks, mom," he said, emphasizing the glass. He sipped it, then made to twist and set it on the end table, but Seras eagerly took it from him, grabbed a coaster from the other side of the living room, sauntered back - hips swaying, breasts moving in counterpoint - and put down his drink on the end table for him.
"You've had a busy day. Won't you let your mother help you to relax?"
The boy smiled. His expression had a weary quality, making him appear wise past his years. It was the same look of his long-gone father and it was part of the reason why Seras' love for him went so far beyond what was expected of a normal mother. "I'm plenty relaxed, mom," he assured her in his wholly American accent. "But thanks."
"Oh, bah," Seras puffed, waving off the very idea that her son was, in his present state, relaxed. A smile was glued to her face. "You do so much work at school. You study much at home," she chided, gesturing at his clipboard. "Such things are unlike boys your age."
He chuckled. Sometimes, he felt like he was the adult. It didn't occur to him that he was in fact the man of the house. "It's all right, mom. I've gotta do this anyway. Might as well get it done ASAP, right?"
"Yes, yes. Work, work, work," said the lady wolf teasingly. She crept away to the kitchen from where Isha soon heard the sound of dishes being washed.
The boy was barely through with the second sheet of his homework when mom sauntered in again, this time with a plate in her careful grasp. On it was a sandwich - crunchy peanut butter on white bread, his favorite - and she presented it to him with a winsome smile. "You must be hungry."
Isha was indeed hungry, but the fact that she was trying so hard to endear herself to him was growing tiresome. He took the plate, smiling patiently, and had a bite of the sandwich to appease her. She stood, paws clasped, body slightly inclined. She appeared like a little girl waiting for permission to ride the merry-go-round.
"It's good, mom," said Isha around a muffling wad of peanut butter. "S'really good, thank you."
"Well," mother clucked, straightening up. "I shall leave you to your homework, little worker."
For about ten minutes, thought the boy sardonically. He hungrily polished off his sandwich and left the plate on the table, and he went back to work. Three sheets down, two more to go, and then he really needed to start on that essay. It was some postmodern tripe, a deconstruction of the good-fast-cheap triangle, and Isha couldn't have cared less. He knew he'd be phoning that one in.
It turned out the boy's estimate was wrong. Mom returned only five minutes later, but this time she did not pester him. Rather, she sat in her armchair and turned on the television. Isha wished at these times he'd never taught her how to use the DVR, because she used it exclusively for recording her insipid soap operas, one of which she put on now.
He uttered a disgusted noise. Seras, whom sat at the edge of her seat girlishly, looked at him with a thin smile. "Am I disrupting your homework?"
"A little bit," he murmured. It was amazing, really. He could tune out a whole classroom of foolish, gibbering kids, but his own mother's subtle nudging for attention spelled ruination for his attempts at studying. He glanced at her, and she glanced at him. The look exchanged said I know you know that I know exactly what you're doing, and that's why you're doing it. Seras, with her smile widening, turned her full attention to the TV set. As My Estrus Burns was having a very good year so far; Seras could hardly believe that they were bringing the old villain back from the dead.
Isha gnashed his teeth, huffing from his nostrils. He set the clipboard gingerly down with his backpack, lifted his bottom up, and hauled down his shorts. "You won't quit until I give it up."
"You know your mother so very well, you are such a good son, Isha," cooed Seras as she hurried across the room, pulling up her shirt along the way. Magnificently round and large tits spilled free, bouncing down with such force that Isha expected their weight to send her crashing through the floor and into the basement.
Big things ran in the Avrokni family, of course: between his thighs, curled awkwardly in a jockstrap, was every bit of twenty-eight inches of ebon meat, uncircumcised and unrelentingly fat. He started to tug down his jock but mother was there to help her boy then as always, and she gave it a hearty pull by the pouch, her fingers brushing the matching thickness of his scrotum in one tantalizing moment. Isha's penis bounced free, reminding Seras of those silly snakes-in-a-can pranks some of the stores carried.
"I really need to finish this homework," said Isha boredly. His mother began to fondle his penis, trying to wrangle its great, flaccid length without much luck. She murmured sweet nothings to him in the native tongue. Isha knew Russian as fluently as English and he rolled his eyes at her cliched declarations of motherly love and whorish lust. "Oh, enough," he said tartly. "Don't make me put it away," he threatened in the exasperated tone of a parent on a road trip: don't make me turn this car around!
"Oh, but you are such a handsome boy, Isha," Seras crooned, hugging her boy's herculean cock to the mounds of her breasts. She peppered the head with firm smooches, her tail wagging all the while. The scent of her loins was growing steadily, threatening to overtake the potent masculine smell of her boy. But, as his cock began to stiffen and pre squeezed from its slit, he effortlessly cemented his place as the dominant scent in the room. Seras was stricken by his musk and it informed her decisions, making her nuzzle and sniff the glans with desperate lust. "You are so big, just as your father was..."
Isha sighed. There he was growing stiff and ready for his ever so needful mother, but his thoughts were still on his homework. He had read ahead on the sheets and was already going over the answers in his head; and he was similarly considering his opening paragraph for the essay which he had zero interest in writing. He was actually thinking of asking the Lankett boy he shared a class with if he might trade an essay for a chance to touch his penis, given the fox boy's aptitude for both lifeless but informative writing and male genitals.
"That's nice, mom," he muttered, looking around her at the television. Even while his mother kissed his cock and hugged it between the suitably giant pillows of her tits, he found the soap opera impossible to endure. "Ugh... where's the remote at? Is it over where you usually sit?"
Seras let loose a bubbly laugh. It was the giggle she used when she wanted to pretend her sweet Isha was joking about something - just one of her many ways of playing around his dead-serious nature. "Why would you care to watch the television?" she asked sweetly. "Was it not you who told me TV is bad for the brain?"
The boy folded his arms across his chest and sat back with a huff. He hated when she threw his little remarks back in his face. "Won't you just hurry this up, mom? Or go use the toy I bought you for Christmas?"
A low, sultry growl resonated in Seras' chest. She squeezed her boy's cock tightly between her breasts then pulled back, now sliding her greedy, groping paws down the overwhelming thickness of his cock to the heavy, brown-furred balls hanging below like a pair of ripened grapefruit. "The toy is for when you are not here," she said firmly. "It does not satisfy me as you do. It doesn't warm me and fill me, and I can't see my boy and his handsome face when I use it."
"All right, all right," Isha said, trying to sound disgusted, or at least annoyed, but failing at both. He was blushing, for he was just as susceptible to a good flattering as any man. "Look, why don't you just, ah," he gnawed his lip, "lie back? On the floor?"
Seras shot him an exulted smile. She leaned over him, bending his cock harmlessly inward, and kissed his lips. There she lingered, uttering a single, warm note of pleasure, and Isha knew she wouldn't be content with a mere smooch, so he lapped across her lips in a teasing gesture.
"Lie back for my beautiful son?" she rhetorically asked, eyes dreamy and nose flush to his. "For my dear Isha, I will do this gladly. I love you."
Isha watched her slip off the couch and tug down her shorts. He saw she wasn't wearing panties; she rarely did around him, they impeded access far too much when she shoved his paws down her pants.
Although he thought mother was irritating as any teenage boy found his mother, he loved her. Disregarding the uniquely incestuous twist of their relationship, he cared deeply for her as a son, and he said without hesitation, "I love you too."
Seras took a pillow from the end of the couch and used it as her support as she lay back upon the area rug. She kept her legs invitingly and obscenely open. Her breasts sagged somewhat in this position, but their sheer size made gravity's pull on them all but unnoticeable. "I am ready for you, Isha," she crooned, further hoisting up her legs and easing apart the lips of her cunt with two fingers. "Please, do not keep your dear mother waiting."
Isha fully shed his shorts, the jockstrap too, leaving both in a heap like shed snake skins. As he knelt, his balls touched down on the floor, spilling out somewhat under their own weight as though they were melting. Reaching around the swollen rod of his cock, he touched his mother's bared pink and quietly remarked, "You're a lot warmer than last time. Were you playing with yourself before I got home?"
She smiled bashfully. "You know your mother too well, Isha. I could not keep my thoughts off my beautiful son."
"I see you also couldn't just finish with the thought alone," the boy groused. "Forcing me to take time away from my homework, as per usual."
"Your homework will wait. I cannot," Seras said urgently, shooting her son a needful look.
A rock-steady grasp helped Isha guide his dense cock to his mother's waiting folds. She uttered a patently delighted croon and spoke to him in Russian of, as usual, his remarkable handsomeness and perfection. To her, of course, he was all of these things and so much more, and Seras was much like any other mother in that regard. The difference was that instead of macaroni art for the fridge door and straight-A report cards, Seras loved her boy's physical attributes.
Though Isha was enormous as a stallion down below, Seras was used to his size. Her familiarity made the feeling of being entered no less wonderful, however. She cried out happily as her boy stretched her out, and she touched his chest, feeling his slim young lines through the dull black t-shirt he wore. "Oh, good boy, Isha, mother loves you so much, she loves you," the lady wolf whimpered, her eyes closed but her smile enormous. "Oh, Isha..."
His grip and stoicism belied the lust Isha truly felt for his mother. His penis gave it all away, telling Seras exactly how he felt - though she knew already. Four years sleeping with the same young man had taught her every single one of his idiosyncrasies, and she found each endearing. "Quicker, Isha, enter me more quickly! You know you never need to be gentle, not with me."
"I'm just still thinking about my essay," Isha said sheepishly, being only partly truthful. He slid his paw down his cock, clutching it at the base before letting it go. Half of his potent girth was buried in his mother; the other half was grinding in steadily, making an indiscreet hump in the lady wolf's abdomen. He bent over her, bracing a paw on the rug and touching her breasts with its twin. He asked quietly, "Are you producing, mother?"
Seras tittered. She touched her son's face, stroked through his fastidiously short hair, its hue silvery-white just like mother's. "Forgive me, Isha - I am not... but the effort is appreciated as always, my sweet boy."
Isha, frowning, dipped his head lower. He kissed her lips, but commuted this to a nibble along her jawline. An outright bite on her neck made her gasp through a moan, this show of pleasure accompanied by a vaginal squeeze. "I'll suck them," he said lowly, "only because you like it."
"Of course, of course. Only because I like it," replied Seras in a sweetly patronizing tone, touching the top of her son's head. To assist with his effort to save face, she pushed him down, forcing his head near the massive swells of her bosoms. From there she let her son make his choice, and he chose the left one, a fine choice as any given the options.
Isha suckled from his mother then as he always did when he let himself be coaxed into laying with her. He pulled it taut in his jowls and front teeth, puckering up around it before flicking the pinched nub with his tongue. It was a simple gesture, but it made Seras croon and smile in dreamlike pleasure. She petted down her son's head and neck and shoulders, uttering all the while in the old tongue how strapping and flawless her son was, how she deeply appreciated that he had so admirably become the man of the house in every aspect from simple order to lurid satisfaction of his woman.
Slow, steady grinds accompanied Isha's suckles. He balled a fist against the carpet, the other paw clutching his mother's unattended breast. There was of course no cupping such a colossal breast, not even slightly as one could with a fair-sized but not enormous tit. Seras' boobs defied such basic captivity, and instead Isha could only palm around its lovingly pliant flesh like fondling a water balloon not quite full to capacity. He ran his palm purposefully across the nipple again and again, tweaking the blue, stiff flesh each time, never in quite the same direction as before.
Seras was unabashedly wet for her boy, whom knew how to fuck her just so. She closed her eyes, her nose pointed up at the spinning ceiling fan. "Oh my goodness, Isha," she whimpered, tail beating on the floor without rhythm but full of energy. "Isha, Isha, Isha. Will you fill your mother? Would you be so naughty a boy to try and breed me?"
The boy was painfully aware of his mother's intoxicating effect on him. She could go from a nuisance easier fucked than ignored to a goddess of incestuous sex and indulgence in his eyes over the course of a mere quickie as she was doing now, and he both hated and deeply loved the hold she enjoyed over him. Much the same was her grip on his penis, cunt walls pulled taut and clenching in their sensuous, sinful ways around his great black boymeat.
Each throb of her box milked him, drawing out beads of pre as thick as grapes. His balls, wet from her muff's constant drool, grew snug in their warm sack. They pulsed with life waiting to happen, eager to be unleashed into the very pussy which had sent him screaming into the world just thirteen years prior. It was this thought, the notion that he could perhaps sire his own sibling if mother skipped her little pill for the day, which drove Isha more wild than anything else.
He still mashed into her, his cock a thick black piston, but he pulled his lips off her tit and emitted a sharp smack as the suction broke. Isha's left nipple was left a little more swollen than its sister, and a bit purple as if it were bruised, though this was simply the effect reddening had on blue flesh. "Yes," he spoke in his erudite way, "yes I will, mother. I will-," but now Isha bit his lip, blushing. He smooched his mother on her lips. His climax was close, nipping at his heels. Sweat broke out on his brow, dribbling onto his mother's white, splayed tits like raindrops. "I'm going to fucking breed you, my sweet mother," Isha snarled indulgently.
Hearing such vulgarity from her son's lips shocked Seras, but it did not appall her, instead evoking the polar opposite response. She was delighted that her big boy was speaking to her so frankly, and she planted a wet, motherly smooch on his lips. "My dear boy," she cooed. "Oh, yes, you are the man of the house... I am all yours, my handsome Isha, all yours forever and ever, as much wife as mother..."
Remarkable intelligence and temperance notwithstanding, Isha was still a teenage boy. Like a gateway drug, his first swear made him crave more. He pumped his mother vigorously, puffing out his slender chest, heaving with manly exertion. His penis, that big dumb club that it was, gouged his beautiful mother. Her belly bulged, a shifting mass to match the young wolf's grinding meat on its short but eventful journeys. "You're goddamned right, I'm the man of the house," hissed Isha, feeling still that shameful taboo but loving the sheer dominance the swears imbued him with. He was the man of the house, and Seras was his woman. That she was his mother mattered not when she was such a perfect thing, so utterly devoted and dependent on his attention.
"My god, my goodness, oh god," Seras bleated, losing her giddy countenance for something more strained. She gnawed her bottom lip, huffed through her nostrils, let the lip go. "Oh, Isha... how I love you, my sweet Isha," she whimpered, petting him, experiencing him by touch alone. "Breed me. Inside of me, my love, waste none of it."
"Oh-, mother-, ah!" Isha lost his prized articulacy. His body locked in the familiar tightening of climax and he buried his meat in his mother, bulging her belly with an oblong distension. He leaned low, pushing his lips to hers, and the kiss began hot and heavy. Tongues slathered and slopped, drool exchanged eagerly. Isha stroked through her hair and across her ears, and she returned this favor with trembling fingers.
Isha shot into his mother with unspeakable force. Had he not been kissing her, he'd have uttered his third swear; he was thinking fuck might convey his feelings well, but he settled for an indulgent croon into Seras' maw.
Thick, fertile ropes of seemingly unending cum sloshed out of Isha and into Seras, pumping her full, and pumping was the only word for it. Isha's output, like his intellect, was beyond all rational expectations. He gushed, he shot, he overflowed with great slops of semen. Seras found her flexible, breedable belly momentarily ballooned, causing the most mild pain from such rapid expansion but pleasure in the fullness and the knowledge that it was her own precious flesh and blood whom was pumping her full. Too soon for her tastes, the mess began to gush out, washing across her bottom and her boy's balls in minor tidal waves of dense white goop. In the commotion and buried in the kiss, Seras uttered her orgasmic cry and squeezed down on her son.
Made especially tender by climax, Isha was ill-prepared for the new snugness his mother provided. He yanked back from the passionate mess of the kiss and clicked his teeth, his jowls drawing back for a grimace. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat. It was as if such pleasure crossing the line into pain sent his most basic functions into paralyzed indecision. Three breathless seconds passed, then Isha erupted into an exhalation and fell firmly upon his mother, whom showed no discomfort, and only wrapped her arms about her boy. She coddled him into her enormous bust, crooning sweetly in afterglow and slowly relaxing her inner grip as a result.
"My handsome boy," Seras sighed, exulted with the sex as well as the simple fact that her boy was so masculine and flawless. "Oh, I will let you get back to that silly homework now if you wish..."
"No," Isha said, muffled by her breasts. He pulled back his head lazily, and laid his snout broadside on a tit. He huffed across it, and fixed her gaze with his own. Masculinity smoldered in his eyes. He was not quite his absent father, but he was the man of the house all the same. Seras felt her heart skip a beat; she was hopelessly in love. "No, mother," he said firmly, fairly. "It can wait just a little while. You're more important."