Facial / Cream -- A Mother/Son Story Part 1
Fake Flower Stories
Facial / Cream
A Mother/Son Story
By Fake Flower
Table of Contents:
Quick Note to the Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Ending Note
A Quick Note to the Reader:
If you’re looking for a 0-100 incest scene that will get you off in five minutes flat, then you’re looking at the wrong book.
This ain’t Brazzers.
But if you’re looking for a story with somewhat realistic characters, a meaningful progression, and mothers you could fall in love with, then read on. I put a lot of effort into making this the kind of erotica I wish there was a lot more of – realistic, tangible, an experience you can almost feel.
If I’ve done this remotely right, then this will feel like it’s happening with a real mother.
Enjoy.
-Fake Flower
Chapter 1
I should have been more worried when my mom started talking with the neighborhood cougar.
Jessica, who was about as old as my mom, was hot, fit, and ethnically ambiguous. I really have no clue what race she was, but she had this delicious brown skin that made me think of caramel. And maybe Jessica was a little more confident than some people would prefer on a personal level, but I didn’t really mind since her confidence translated into a skimpy spandex obsession.
Which I really, really enjoyed.
She lived next door, was into yoga and health blogs, liked doing her exercise on her front lawn, and once, she winked at me during an outdoor stretch, directly facing me while I was passing by. I can still vividly remember the look of her tan lines under the little sports bra that stretched way down her amber colored little breasts, her heart-shaped ass framing her body as she bent way, way over, her dark hair making a shimmering rain effect, and most memorable of all, the way her dark, seductive eyes gently batted at me. At the time, I was way too shy to say anything, even if I was eighteen, and even if she was single and clearly trying to get my attention.
Today, she was sitting at the dining room table with Mom, during her visiting hours where she’d occasionally try to sell her essential oils, but recently they were on a health advice kick that didn’t have a sales pitch attached.
Mom and Jessica were a definite contrast. While Jessica was possibly Latina, or maybe some kind of Southeast Asian, her body language like that of some kind of sinister, sexy queen, my mom (Cassie) was as white and well-meaning as a woman could be. She liked to keep her hair up, dressed with some semblance of modesty, and kept her makeup to a minimum, especially since the divorce. Jessica seemed to be the living embodiment of sex. My mom was pretty, but obviously, since she was my mom, I didn’t really think about her, like, sexually.
I would like to emphasize just how pretty she is, though. Mom’s face was delicately featured. Perfectly symmetrical – with clear skin, light eyebrows, and a soft, dainty mouth that kissed my cheek every morning. She wasn’t one for exercise but kept herself on a diet, so it’s not like she was one of those women with ridiculous proportions or the kind of body that you’d see all over Instagram. What mom was, was effortlessly feminine; just a slender, pleasant looking woman with a pretty face. She was undeniably attractive, and since the divorce she’d tell me about the legions of guys that suddenly started talking to her and asking her out for dinner.
When the cougar neighbor visited, I listened from the kitchen and would pretend to wash dishes or something as an excuse to get glimpses of Jessica. Really, it was the only time I did chores willingly. I didn’t exactly have a clear line of sight, but honestly, Jessica was so hot that a few looks were enough material to jerk off with.
Today, while really taking my time with wiping the counters, their conversation about skin clarity and nutrition suddenly went quiet. I heard a few hisses coming from each of them, they whispered in low, curious sounding tones. Luckily for me, I could still barely make out what they were saying if I moved to the edge of the counterspace and leaned in.
There was a china cabinet with glass doors close to the kitchen entrance as well – their faces were dimly reflected in the glass, and while mom leaned in, eyes wide with curious shock, Jessica’s face was sexily confident, her whispers revealing a secret that obviously made my mom deeply uncomfortable. Jessica put a hand up, covered her mouth, and whispered a few words directly into my mother’s ear. When she finished, my mom’s jaw dropped, her mouth a sudden dot of pink in the reflection. She looked at Jessica as if she were insane, as if Jessica had told her something gross, scandalous, disgusting, something totally outside of her little moral suburban box. She collapsed back, stunned.
“I swear,” Jessica’s voice finally filtered through while I did my best to keep silent and creep closer. “Erased them.”
Mom’s pale lip stuck out. “That’s not possible.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jessica frowned. “Look.”
“I’ve read into it. Nothing can get rid of wrinkles – nothing.”
“Look,” Jessica leaned
forward, aggressively pointing at her face with a painted nail,
while my mom awkwardly glanced at her, leaning slightly back. “Look
here, above my nose. Look around my mouth here. Do you remember the
mouth lines I used to have? Do you?”
“I mean, I remember you had… I mean…”
“Look. Where are the lines? Do you remember the lines I used to have?”
“Barely… Oh my god.” Mom gasped, her eyes widening, her whole stance changing. She wasn’t awkward anymore – just shocked. Just amazed.
Jessica smugly sat back, folding her hands underneath her coral-colored athletic bra. She gave a shrug with an assured smile, pushing her breasts higher up. “See? It works.”
Mom leaned back, suddenly skeptical again. “That’s just from your Botox. Isn’t it.”
“Cassie,” Jessica rolled her eyes, sighing, “I haven’t gotten those injections in six months. I’m supposed to be due for another treatment next week, but why the hell would I pay for that if I’m getting a better, more natural thing for free? Plus a nice dinner, a few times a week. Can’t forget about that.”
Mom shook her head, bewildered. She collapsed back. Her hands went up to the sides of her head, her fingers tracing through her mousy hair, her fingertips lightly touching at the crows foot wrinkles around her eyes. “A few times a week? Jessica, how often do you… do you let this happen?”
Jessica grinned, sat back, and flipped her hair. “Whenever he wants.”
“Oh,” Mom gave a slight gasp in surprise. Then her voice lowered, her tone cautious, scandalized. “And you said… it’s… it’s his semen? That you put on your face?”
It was like something punched me in the gut.
“Yeah,” Jessica gave a giggle. “I make him cum all over my face and then I, you know, apply it where it needs to go.”
Not what you expected to hear from your neighbor on a Sunday afternoon.
My mind drew it all together. The mental image was stark, insanely vivid. Insanely real to me, as if I were the one to do it for her. I could picture Jessica, presenting herself, her tight bra pulled way down, kneeling, waiting patiently for me to squirt streaks of semen all over her pretty brown face, maybe with her bright tongue out, but definitely with that same smoldering, sexy look she gave me when I passed her exercising outside. And then after I painted her cheeks, her nose, maybe jizzed a little into her wet mouth, she’d give a little swallow and then whisper in a soft, husky tone, her eyes shining with sexual heat… “Thank you.”
My reverie shattered when mom started to scold Jessica. “Where the hell am I supposed to get somebody to cum on my face every night?”
“Just have your husband do it,” Jessica sighed.
“Jim and I divorced last year,” mom snapped, “and you would have noticed if you had even asked. I don’t even know why I let you come over.”
“Oh.” The conversation paused awkwardly while my mind went back to the idea of Jessica begging me to cum on her. Then I heard mom sigh.
“Sorry.”
Jessica gave a tight laugh. “It’s okay, hun. Just try a few dates or something. I’m certain you’ll find somebody willing.”
“I’m not about to start dating again.”
“Come on, Cassie,” Jessica urged, “you have needs, don’t you? Hit two birds with one stone.”
Mom closed her eyes and waved her hand as if she were trying to shoo the thought away. “Really, I’ve had enough of meeting men. I’m very done with that, for a very long time.”
“Well, shit, girl.” Jessica rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, “you might as well just ask Mark then.”
Mark is my name. I think I was about as stunned as my mom.
“Jessica!”
“Well, if you don’t ask him,” she said slyly, a painted nail pulling her plump lips down, “maybe I will when my current toy gets a little tired.”
Mom didn’t like that joke. “I swear, Jessica, you stay the hell away from my son.”
“I wonder what your son would be like. Doing that,” Jessica said, dreamily, her tone making my cock go rock hard. “I’m almost serious about you asking him. The blog said something about the genetic material working better if it’s the same as—”
Mom stood up and cleared her throat, “I’ll have to see you later, I think I’ve got a dentist appointment this afternoon.”
I didn’t blame her for shutting down that train of conversation – the idea staggered me. How the hell could somebody even suggest something like that? Similar genetic material?
Like, from relatives?
The idea of cumming on my mom’s face had never, ever occurred to me in my entire life until that instant. I had a sudden flash across my brain – my mother, neatly on her knees in the living room, having a conversation with me about school or what kind of college I should apply to or about why girls acted the way they did, but instead of looking at me with her clear and pretty face, there was a wide string of cum, streaking across her cheeks, right where I had placed it.
It hit me in two ways. The first way was that I was completely sidelined with how insane it was. How it just punched at my reality as an intrusive thought that most guys probably went their whole lives never imagining it.
The second way was… that it was doing something to me. Something down there, a hot feeling in my gut, something weird happening in the deepest part of my core. I immediately pushed the feeling away, or tried to.
It was all pretty bewildering.
Jessica laughed and got up to leave. “Trust me, hun. You’ll see. If that boss of yours is anything like you’ve told me, a little semen on your pretty face is going to pay off, big time.”
I thought I heard a few words that mom almost never says, and then, in one fluid movement, mom somehow pushed Jessica all the way to the door, opened it, pushed her out, slammed it shut, and then ran to her room. I could only assume she was embarrassed. I heard Jessica say a brief goodbye from the other side of the door.
In the meantime, I was standing in the kitchen, a hundred percent confused, my cheeks on fire, and with an entirely different world view.
Cumming on a woman’s face was one thing. I fantasized about that kind of deal all the time. Dreamed of doing it for real, but had only experienced it in porn. There was something about the way a woman would open her mouth, or look up at you, or give an expectant smile, just before unloading all over her face. Something about the way the cum glistened on their nose, or their lips, or how they would make a little noise of surprise as they tasted it.
I honestly can’t tell you how many times I blew a load thinking about Jessica kneeling on the ground in front of me, begging me to cover her with it. It was easy to come up with that kind of image.
But when Jessica recommended, twice, that mom use my cum?
What the hell is a guy supposed to do with a thought like that?
I followed mom’s lead and went to my own room to cool down. I tried to think of something that wasn’t what Jessica’s suggestions evoked. Anything but the thought of my pretty, soft looking mother, on her knees, politely waiting for me, her little pink mouth open, her gentle, polite voice asking me gently to please, cum on her face. Anything but the idea of releasing myself in orgasm, pumping a hot, creamy load all over her lips, all over her tongue, shooting across her pale skin, her forehead. Anything but her looking at me adoringly as it dripped down her cheeks.
Anything but that.
Chapter 2
As it so happened, the whole semen thing was completely true. Or so the blogs said – there were some before and after pictures (without the semen) that showed an obvious change in women’s faces in the weeks after regular application.
Then there were some porn videos that seemed to fixate on this. I didn’t blame them – the concept was pretty hot. There were a lot of amateur couples getting in on it, and some of the new professionally produced stuff started featuring Milfs that seemed to reverse age.
There were a few blogs that had a little disclaimer, that they only saw noticeable effects when they took a little, just a little, into their mouths.
That was difficult to accept.
And then, deeper into the fringe stuff, there were some confirmations of what Jessica had mentioned – that somehow, related genetic material had a stronger effect. One very, very sexually liberated woman even had a YouTube video about how she started letting her adult sons cum on her face, and then the videos following it really did show a tremendous difference. She went from looking fifty to forty.
The internet really was a magical place, wasn’t it?
But I did wish my family hadn’t learned about this.
I resolved to drop the whole idea since it was too weird for a guy still in high school. What kind of sicko would think about, much less be aroused by the thought of jerking off on their mom’s face? Nobody thought about their moms like that. And that nobody was going to include me.
That night, after I showered and was already in bed, mom came into my room. Which was weird. Considering the conversation she had with Jessica, I figured she’d probably want to keep a little healthy distance so she could really, really maintain to herself that she was a normal, reasonable mother that in no way would have ever, ever entertained the thought of her son cumming on her face. But here she was.
She seemed a little nervous. Maybe even a little embarrassed. Definitely unsure, as if she were really preoccupied with something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Oh.” Mom rubbed at the edge of her eyes with her fingers, massaging the part where the crow’s feet were developing. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m alright. How about you?” Her tone was high.
I responded with a shrug. “Good. I guess. I don’t want to go to school but that’s every day.”
“Yeah.” Mom sighed unsteadily and walked deeper into my room. She was looking down at the floor, her hand moving to her neck, massaging it. It was the kind of stance she took up when she was really working through something.
Working through what?
Somewhere in my head, I felt like she was thinking about that conversation with Jessica, and that’s why she was here.
But was it? It was normal for her to drop by when I was heading to sleep though. We talked about stuff. It was normal and healthy to talk about stuff with her. But even with how normal and healthy it was supposed to be, the whole thing felt off, weird, like mom really was considering something that didn’t entirely make sense to her, or to me for that matter.
“Well,” she said awkwardly, suddenly turning to face the door of my room, “I just wanted to say goodnight. And I wanted you to know, you’re a good son.” She paused, the silence heavy. “And I love you very much.”
“Oh. Okay.” I nodded. “I love you too.”
“Goodnight, kiddo.” She closed the door behind her. I thought I heard her mutter to herself outside of the door and then heard her footsteps move down the hallway to her room.