Kinky Erotica
"Will You Be My Mommy?" An erotic short story by Billierosie
To Dream 4 by r/aceJoel is the sort of guy you just can’t take your eyes off: tall, dark, handsome, and extremely graceful for a guy. He moves like a dancer, elegant and cool. He is always surrounded by a group of beautiful women; they gushing and drooling; he, always looking slightly bored. Whenever I see him, I longingly lust after him. I sigh, but he doesn’t see. He’s out of my league.
We share the same friends and often go to the same parties. Joel is always dancing and I’m sitting on a couch, usually giggling with one my friends. Despite the girls surrounding him, I’d never seen him leave with any of them.
I’d never thought he’d noticed me. I’m hardly what you’d consider his type. I’m not tall and willowy, like the girls draped over him. I’m small and plump. Designer clothes, well, they’re just not designed for me. My breasts are too large. For one thing, I’d be bursting out at the tiny seams. Killer heels help a bit, but I think they accentuate my lack of height, rather than make me look taller. I do like my hair, though. Surprising, considering how I was teased about being a curly redhead all through school.
It was my thirty-third birthday, and a couple of my friends and I were out for dinner at Dino’s. an exclusive nearby restaurant. We were seated at a large circular table, overlooking the river. It was a hot evening and the French windows were open. Diaphanous muslin curtains drifted around lazily on a cool breeze. Lights from the boats twinkled and sparkled on the water like a carnival.
There was a group of men dining at the next table and I know it’s silly, I know I’ve said he’s out of my league, but when Joel joined them, my breasts tightened. My face flushed, and between my legs felt damp and warm. He glanced over to me and smiled. I managed to collect myself and concentrate on my friends, and of course the fabulous food. But I was conscious of him there, just a few feet away, all through our meal.
The waiter brought over a birthday cake, with a sparkly firework. My friends all sang “Happy Birthday,” and I blushed and giggled. I knew Joel was watching me, and I couldn’t meet his eyes. He’s not for me, I thought sadly.
“Sally,” one of my friends touched my hand, bringing me back to reality.
The waiter was standing next to me, with an ice bucket and a magnum of champagne. I looked up. Joel raised his glass and grinned.
“From the gentleman,” the waiter told me, gesturing to Joel.
I met Joel’s eyes.
“Happy birthday,” his beautiful, sculptured lips mouthed.
I smiled my thanks, as the waiter poured, though I turned my attention back to my friends. I could feel Joel’s eyes on me. My hand trembled as I raised my glass to him. This was impossible, I thought. Why would someone like him, be interested in me? He’s just being nice. He’s seen me around, and he’s being friendly.
Then, a little later, he was at my side.
“Sally. Can I give you a lift home?” he asked.
It was the first time I’d heard him speak my name, and I quivered. He placed his strong hands on my naked shoulders. I wondered if he could feel my pulse fluttering beneath his fingers. He leaned his tall frame over me. His lips brushed my ear. Red shock waves of arousal blasted through me.
“Please let me drive you home,” he whispered. His breath was as warm as a caress on my sensitized skin. I tingled all over.
My friends gaped. I felt myself gaping back. I tried to pull myself together.
“Thank you,” I manage to mumble, as graciously as I could. “A ride home would be lovely.”
He escorted me to his car. I knew he drove a small Lotus; I was praying that I wouldn’t be too fat to fit in.
We chatted, just small talk. I giggled a lot. He told me I had a lovely laugh. He lived in the next village to me and we giggled about the eccentricities of village life. The gossip. The curtain twitching. How someone was bound to see us arriving at my cottage so late at night. Our ‘affair’ would be all over the village by next morning. I did an impersonation of elderly Mrs. Malone, spreading the news in the village post office. Joel thought I was hysterical and had to slow the powerful Lotus right down, to keep the car on the road.
He turned off the engine and turned to face me. We kissed, gently, his cool tongue slipping into my mouth.
Then he held me at arms’ length. “Wow.” he said. “You’re so gorgeous.”
My disbelief must have showed in my face, because he said it again. “You are,” he insisted. “Your hair, your beautiful eyes…do you ever look in the mirror?”
I just looked at him, drinking in his beautiful face.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.
Here we go, I thought. He wanted to drive me home because he’s interested in one of my friends.
He hesitated, and I felt alarmed.
“What is it?” I asked. My patience was frustratingly stretched thin.
He closed his eyes. “Will you be my Mommy?”
As I’ve said, I’m a giggler and I could feel the giggle rising in my throat, but I stopped it. This was not a moment for laughter. I could see he was distressed. When he opened his beautiful, brown eyes, I thought I caught the glitter of tears.
“You think I’m a freak,” he said at last.
“I’m thinking a lot of things,” I told him. “But no, never that. Never.”
I held him in my arms and he rested his head on my breasts. He nuzzled up to me; my nipples were erect beneath my dress. I knew he could feel them pushing against his cheek.
“If you knew how I’ve longed for this,” he murmured. His mouth found my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress and he suckled on me.
“But you could have anyone,” I gasped. The sensation of his mouth tugging on my nipple was incredible.
“Don’t want just anyone. I want you,” he muttered, between sucks and nibbles.
We talked a lot more. He tried to explain, but he was nervous. He wept, as he told me about the feelings of shame, the guilt. How he wanted a woman to dominate him, to set boundaries. to discipline him. He needed to be punished like a little boy when he misbehaved. He talked of spankings, of having his cock and balls tied up with ropes. It would be an emotional and physical relationship. And sex, lots of sex. He wanted to fuck me, and then be punished for fucking his Mommy. He wanted me to fuck him with a giant, strap-on dildo.
I tried to understand, I really did, but there was too much information. Finally, he asked me to call him the next day. But before he saw me to my door, he scribbled down his phone number and a web site address.
“Check that out,” he said humbly. “It’ll explain it all far better than I ever can. If you don’t call me, I’ll know you can’t deal with it. But if that’s how it is, please don’t tell anyone about this. That’s all I ask.”
I felt desperate for him and reassured him the best I could. I stroked his hair, to comfort him, and pulled his head to my breast for purely selfish reasons; I liked the erotic sensation of his mouth tugging and sucking at my nipple.
I checked out the web site as soon as I got in and was overwhelmed: so many case studies, so many stories and fantasies, so many desperate guys out there. Sadness. Men living lonely lives because they were afraid of communicating their needs. Men living in fear and shame and guilt. Neither they, nor their partners understanding their need. I kept thinking of his sad, dark eyes as we’d talked and he’d tried to explain and I hoped I could live up to the complex life he craved.
I called him early the next morning. He must have been sitting by the phone because he answered on the first ring.
“Yes,” I said. “We can make this work.”
His sigh of joy was palpable. “Thank you, Mommy,” he said, exhaling a long breath.
I had plans, based on what he’d told me, and stuff I’d read about on the web. Before I’d called Joel, I’d called my friend, Lucy. Lucy likes to be spanked and goes to a spanking club. I asked her what was the best bit about being spanked?
“He strokes the swell of my ass,” she told me. “Then it’s that moment of anticipation before the spank lands. And then it does, and oh, it hurts, but I’m pushing up, waiting for the next one. Sometimes, I can come just from waiting.”
I hung up, before she had the chance to ask, ‘why?’
I imagined stroking and spanking Joel’s naked ass. Yummy. I thought about making him come from a spanking. The idea was very erotic. I was very turned on and I felt that familiar warm wetness gushing in my panties.
I drove quickly to the village, where Joel lived. His house was far grander than mine: a small manor house with purple wisteria in full bloom, clambering over the walls. It was a Sunday, so neither of us needed to worry about work. We could spend the day getting to know one another.
I’d decided that in my role as Mommy, I should cook lunch. Joel helped, until I needed to use sharp knives, then I told him to go and play games on his computer.
“But check with me first if you go on the Internet,” I called to him. I didn’t want him looking at porn sites. I’d decided that my little boy would be twelve years old. He was far too young to be looking at smut. Maybe we’d look at porn together later and I could explain to him what the men and ladies were doing.
I checked on him later and found him curled asleep on a couch. He looked so sweet, with blissful contentment on his face. He looked much younger than his actual twenty-eight years. He was tired. He’d told me he hadn’t slept, worrying about what my reaction was going to be. He thought he’d blown it. I brushed his dark hair back from his forehead and kissed him, gently. He looked adorable in his rumpled jeans and T-shirt. Just like a big kid. I glanced at his crotch: his erection was quite visible beneath his jeans. I placed my hand on it, gripping it tightly, relishing its hardness. He gasped and a shudder racked through him.
“Lunch is almost ready,” I told him. “Go and get washed and changed. Then after lunch, Mommy and Joel are going to have a long talk. I think there are naughty things you haven’t told me and I expect you’ve got some naughty toys. I’ll probably have to give you a good spanking.”
“Yes, Mommy,” he said, looking nervously at the large, heavy, wooden spatula I tapped against my thigh.
He reached up and squeezed my breast. I slapped his hand away, crossly.
“Not until Mommy says so,” I told him.
“Yes, Mommy. I’m very sorry, Mommy.”
That was all two years ago. I moved in with Joel the following week, to the delight of the village gossips. Joel has his own bedroom and I have mine. Joel goes to bed early, around nine pm. He always grumbles, but I tell him that’s quite late enough for a boy of his age. I always tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. I make sure his hands are above the covers. I won’t have him playing with himself. I never hear him creep into my bed, but he’s always snuggled up to me when I wake up in the morning. His fingers sleepily playing with an erect nipple.
On my birthday, Joel and I got engaged. Joel hired Dino’s restaurant for our party. None of our crowd knows about our secret life, and that’s how it should be.
I haven’t told Joel, but my surprise engagement present to him is a course of hormone injections I’m giving myself. I got the treatment from the web. They’re to induce lactation. Joel is going to be able to suckle me for real. Drink warm milk from his Mommy’s tits. He’ll be delighted.
I see those tall, willowy girls looking from me to my gorgeous fiancé and back again. I know what they’re thinking. “How did she manage to catch him?”
Of course, I’m not going to tell them.
Originally published May 2010
