Side Effects – Prescription Refill

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“Stan,” his mom called through the house. “I’m heading into town. Do you need anything?”

“Where you going?” He looked up from the sketch he was working on at his desk. He’d started doing erotic drawings and this one was a dragon and a female warrior. The dragon’s tail was embedded in the muscular woman’s pussy. The look on her face was supposed to be ecstasy, but it looked more like a grimace. He’d erased it four times already but couldn’t get it just right.

“The drug store, but I can stop other places too.”

“You refilling your anxiety medication?” Stan couldn’t help but smile. He and his mom had been engaging in regular sexual sessions because her meds were stimulating her libido. She needed the effect of the drug and Stan had really started enjoying its side effect. They were being careful about the whole incest thing, so he hadn’t screwed his mom, but he’d been doing it a lot lately in his fantasies. Maybe she’d need another of her ‘special’ sessions after she returned.

Gripping the boner he’d sprouted while drawing, the warrior looked a lot like his mom; he didn’t want her delaying in town. “No, I’m good.”

“I shouldn’t be long.” He heard the door snick closed. A minute later, their car engine rumbled to life. Stan went back to his sketch.

“Is that me?” Mom’s voice startled Stan. He’d been so focussed on his drawing, that he didn’t hear her return.

Startled, he jerked, covered the drawing with his arms. He was glad she hadn’t returned while he was squeezing the erection he still had. He wasn’t comfortable sharing his art, especially since he knew it was his mom on the paper. She was in a rather provocative position.

“Hey,” his mother tried to move his hands, but he resisted. “Did you give me stretch marks?”

“Mom,” Stan heard the plead in his voice, hating the whinny sound of it. “No one said it’s you.”

“It sure looks like me. You are a talented artist, why would you include those ugly things?”

“There is nothing ugly about you. You are a wonderful woman and person. Besides, maybe you just saw some shading.”

“I know stretch marks when I see them. I’ve looked at them for more than twenty years now.”

“And that’s why they aren’t ugly. I know your breasts grew when you were pregnant with me. That happens to pretty much all women. The skin can’t keep up and so some of it breaks up a little, leaving what I call ‘love scars.” Stan reached out, placed his fingers alongside his mother’s breasts, supported them. “You did that for me, and that is a beautiful thing. Kind of a tattoo of our first bonding. That’s why they are beautiful.”

“Awe, Stan,” he loved how her voice changed, the tilt of her head, the tears welling in her eyes. He knew he’d chosen the right words, the right sentiment, to help her feel better about herself. The nicest part was, he really felt this way, was so thankful for what she’d endured in order to be his mom.

Before this mom-son moment could slide into a bawling fest, he asked, “Get your pills ok?”

“Yeah, no big deal.” She gave him a strange, out of the side of her eyes look.

“That’s great.” He was uncertain what else to say. He knew what was on his mind but couldn’t blurt it out.

“Are you wondering if I need a session?” A smile blossomed, making small creases around her eyes, mouth.

Stan stuttered, flustered, it was exactly what he was thinking, hoping. Imagining himself as the dragon, ravaging the warrior princess on the page, left him feeling pretty horny, but, of course, only if her needs were being met. Instead of responding, he just stared at her, letting her make the first move.

“You have grown to know me so well.” She pulled her t-shirt over her head then reached behind her back to undo her bra.

“Let me do that.” Stan reached for her, pulled her forward by the hips, hugged her. He didn’t want this to go fast. There was something to be said about savouring these moments, he knew their sessions weren’t going to go on forever. She’d find another man, move on from him. He wanted that for her but, he reached up to the clasp, he wanted this for himself right now.

As her bra popped over her breasts, Stan reached around her, gripped them, hugged her close, pressing his face to her head. She raised her hands to his. When his hug loosened, she twisted in his arms.

“Let’s see if we can scratch your itch, Beth.” Stan leaned in and gave her a long, lingering, tongue-filled kiss. She responded back, pressing her pelvis against him, pulling his head tight to hers. She gave one of her little purrs that vibrated through him, right down to his stiff dick.

Pulling his t-shirt over his head, Stan stepped back, sat on his bed so she could straddle his leg. After a few minutes of her grinding on him, while he played with her tits, coaxing their nipples to full erection, she said, “This isn’t as intense as it used to be.”

“What would you like to try?” Stan flicked through a thousand fantasy images, many of them with his dragon tail impaling her pussy, but he held back from giving any voice. These sessions were for her. The fact that she wasn’t fully satisfied until he was, was gravy.

“Can you lay on me? I like that.”

They reversed positions, her pushing herself back on his bed, spreading her legs so he could press his crotch to hers. Stan dry humped her. It was nice but didn’t stimulate him very much. Something must have showed on his face because she said, “You don’t like this.”

“Do you?” He kept rocking his pelvis against her, trying to run his cock along her vagina, but with so many layers of cloth between them, it was difficult to tell. Too, the head of his penis was constrained by the waistband of his boxers and, if he wasn’t careful, it hurt. He didn’t want her to know that though.

“Well, its nice, makes me feel close to you but, from a sexual point of view, I don’t think I’ll get the relief this is supposed to bring. Would you mind using your hand?”

“Sure Beth, your wish…” He rolled off her, moved his hand to her thigh, began rubbing, pressing, squeezing. Her hips rocked against him. “Like that?”

“Yes,” she panted.

Stan continued, trying to vary his pace, pressure, angle, to give her the most enjoyment. He placed his thumb where he imagined her clitoris to be and ground down with it. Her breath panted, grew deeper. He felt moisture seep through her pants.

After a few minutes, she pushed his hand away. Sweat stood in beads on her forehead, in the fine hairs of her eyebrows. Her breasts had grown slick, and Stan felt them up, sliding his hand over them, relishing the silky feel.

“You’re not done,” he stated in a flat voice. He knew what her orgasms looked and felt like and she hadn’t had one. Why was she stopping him.

“No, not yet, but…” She bit her lower lip, flicked her eyes to his face then away.

“What mom, er Beth, just tell me. Anything.” He knew she wanted something but was nervous to ask.

“Would you,” again she paused, and frustration bubbled up in Stan. He pushed it down, calmed himself. “With your hand.” Her eyes flicked down to her crotch.

“I was.” Stan was confused.

“I mean, inside.”

Then it blossomed in his mind, she wanted his hand in her pants. He’d done that last time and she’d responded with a quick and massive orgasm. He’d used the memory of the feel of her juices, the roughness of her pubic hair, the softness of her slick vagina to feed a perpetual stream of fantasy images. Now she was asking him to do that again. Sometimes it was so easy to be a good son.

“Sure Beth, I’d be happy to.” Happy was such an understatement of the sensations rocketing through his cock. It was pressing so hard in his pants he was certain it was going to tear through the material. Struggling to keep his hands from shaking, he undid the button of her trousers, loosened the fly then slid his hand inside.

Beth gasped. Her legs spread wider. Her hips moved, encouraging his fingers to find her, slide inside. She shuddered.

In his mind Stan screamed. ‘No, don’t cum yet.’ Even though that event would lead to her working on him until he ejaculated, he wanted this session to last longer. The feel of her pussy, the heat, the slick, was so erotic, he didn’t want it to end too quick. He wanted to savor this like a perfect steak, a fine wine, an imported beer.

Shifting his weight onto his hip, he changed the angle of his hand in her pants to reduce her stimulation, hopefully. She wiggled her butt over and Stan surmised she was searching for maximum effect. Whatever, she was getting hot down there. He slid his fingers in and out, slow, deep, feeling the muscles of her vagina grip at him. It felt like it was trying to draw his hand in, eat him up. That gave him an idea.

Propped as he was on his hip and elbow, it was difficult for him to rub her breasts while masturbating her. He got up on his knees. That made things easier, but still not good.

“Beth, can I take your pants off” My hand is cramping.”

Her eyes shot open, wide. “No. I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

His mind scrambling, he suggested, “If you’re nervous about me seeing you naked, we can leave your panties on.” He paused a moment so she wouldn’t feel pressured. “You’ve seen me naked enough. I’m not certain why you feel that way. It’s ok though, with your panties on, I will still be able to work easier.”

“Oh, don’t stop what you’re doing.” Using one hand, she encouraged him to keep manipulating her.

“I just think it’ll be better for you, like when I finally took my pants off. Freer.”

“But it’s my cooch.” She scrunched her face, placed a hand over her crotch as though blocking his view of it.

“Mom, Beth, I have my hand in your cooch.” He gave it a little wiggle for emphasis. They both laughed and Stan knew he was convincing her. Now he pressed it. “Besides, I thought we might try something, and clothes will just be in the way.”

Scooting her butt away from him, twisting to the side, she pulled herself off his hand. He held that hand up, rubbing his fingers. “See how slippery this is?” Her face reddened. “Don’t be embarrassed, I love how you respond to me, but I was thinking, if we use some lubricant, we can rub against each other, stimulate each other that way.