Certified

"I am a good mother," she said to her reflection in the mirror, the fog still covering her naked body except her head. She was brushing her teeth, pausing only for the motivational tapes. Again, they played, speaking almost mechanically, "You are a good wife." She repeated, "I am a good wife."

She had found these at a used-items store, and thought to give them a try. Lately her husband had been away on longer trips, too tired to make love when he got home. 'Ironic,' she thought at the time, 'That it's the husband who's finally stopping great sex!' She and her husband were (if she recalled correctly, it had been so long) beasts in bed. On their honeymoon, neighbors filed a noise report three times for the loudness of her moaning and screams, and her bouncing so forcefully against the mattress and banging it into the wall.

"You are a good lover," the tape said. "I am a good lover," she said hypnotically. The fog had cleared a bit, revealing her cleavage and the top part of her breasts. The stretch marks of her early blooming were still on the tops of her white breasts, and she was beginning to see her nipples. Her husband commented whenever he was home about her beautiful breasts, not too big, not too small, and said he always felt attracted to the stretch marks, even though she hated them.

The tape recorder clicked, and no more voice came out. She sighed, and finishing her morning routine, emerged from the bathroom a beautiful mother. She walked to the calendar to see what was going on today, barely glancing out the front window. She saw the newspaper on her way, and decided to get it later.

The calendar had nothing of importance to share, and she sighed again. Suburbia was beginning to become a boring place. A foul odor hit her nostrils, and she glanced around, looking for the source. Although nothing appeared that created the smell, she had to get the smell out of the air, unless she wanted to vomit. She opened the cabinets under the sink, and saw, to her dismay, a small dripping of the pipes. About a drop every twenty seconds, she knew it would stack up and drown her eventually. After grabbing the aerosol can with a clean smell, she made a mental note to get a repair guy on the sink.

She began her trek to the newspaper outside. She spent most of the day home alone, her son with friends over summer break from college, and her husband at work. Naturally, she found no need to wear a bra, or even underwear as the case was becoming. Her heavy tits bobbed and swayed as she walked, and her nipples grew hard in the chill air. She put her hands in her sleep pants' pockets to keep her fingers warm, unintentionally pulling her pants down a bit, revealing the blonde pubes that matched her shortened blonde hair.

As she picked up her newspaper, a caravan of cars, reeking of diesel and testosterone drove by, undoubtedly her son and company. They were speeding too fast to get a good look at her. However, one car did slow down, the tinted windows blocking her view. She naturally smiled, assuming it was her son. In fact, as the window rolled down, it was her son's friend, Joseph, sitting at the wheel.

"Good morning, Mrs. Pasternak," he rumbled with a smile. Joseph had grown up in her neighborhood, and she had memories of him playing with her son, and Joseph's brother, Jacob. Jacob, too, had a deep voice, a mischevious grin, and an aura of happiness. The two were so much alike she even assumed she knew how big Joseph's privates were. Jacob had gone a little crazy when his girlfriend dumped him, and he had tried to rape her in the night. Jacob was nothing to write home about, except for the fact that he cries like a girl when you give him a good squeeze in a certain area. Joseph and Mrs. Pasternak tried not to bring that up.

"Good morning, Joseph," she replied, smiling at him. She walked up to the window, her breasts pinched and resting on the side of the car, with her arms folding on them. "How is my son doing? Not getting in trouble, right?"

"Joshua? No! Since when has Joshua gotten in trouble?" The two laughed at the sarcasm, and he carried on, "How are you, Mrs. Pasternak?"

"Oh, gotta hire a plumber, leaky faucet in the kitchen." She stuck out her tongue, rolled her eyes, and laughed again. Joseph's face lightened up. Mrs. Pasternak had also not noticed a time he tried to take a look at her tits. 'Good man,' she thought, 'Better learn where to keep your eyes!'

"I'm a bit good at plumbing-things. I'll be happy to do it for you!" Mrs. Pasternak's smile widened, and gave her thanks and appreciation. "Not a problem, ma'am! I'd be happy to! When can I come over?"

She thought a bit and said, "How about two?" He shook his head no. "I got plans."

"Three-thirty?" Shake.

"Five?" Shake.

"Seven?" Shake.

"Well, then I guess I better gotta call a plumber... I can't wait till tomorrow for this, it's driving me crazy!" Joseph reached into the back seat, and pulled out a tool belt. "Can I help ya now?" She smiled, nodded. He parked his car on the curb, got out, and put on his tool belt. He noticed the blonde pubes hanging out of her shirt, as well as her tits bouncing as he walked beside her, but he dared not make a comment.

She led him to the kitchen, and he looked at it himself. "Okay, I can help you with this! Easy, no problemo!" She thanked him, told him that if he needed anything he just had to ask, and she went about to the living room to begin dusting it.

After the living room was clean, she decided to do some laundry. About the same time, Joseph went into the bathroom, and was getting ready to pee. Just as his stream started, Mrs. Pasternak entered the bathroom with a laundry basket, expecting to get a load of dirty clothes to wash.

He turned in horror, and began to pee on her. She, by instinct, reached out for the source, and immediately tried to force it away. Joseph was fighting back, and she just kept forcing it back. "Joseph! Are you mad? You're not supposed to pee on people!" She looked at him angrily, and a face of sadness overtook him. "Look, all you gotta do is say you're sorry!" He opened his mouth, his face still twisted in shame and sorrow. No words came out. "Joseph, say you're sorry!"

"PLEASE STOP!" he cried, his face still contorted. She looked at him questioningly, then finally noticed what she was doing. She was beating his cock, giving him a hand job unintentionally, her hand still moving from the small scuffle she had with Joseph before.

Wait... That IS a penis, right?

It was hard and swollen, about seven or eight inches long, and just bigger than the size of the circle made by her index finger and thumb. The head was covered by a foreskin, and it attempted to remain slanted, but the weight of the front had it curve down slightly. The color was a deeper brown than her husband's.

As a matter of fact, it was bigger than her husband's. Or Jacob. She hadn't planned to see this!

Small drips of pre-cum fell to the floor, and she stood staring just a second longer, then hurried away, into the backyard, grabbing her MP3, and started blasting 70's rock into her ears to try and forget what had happened. She tried to ignore the cold.

He came out after her, this time his pants up and his cock put away. He turned off the player, and started talking to her. "So you've seen me... 'up'." She didn't respond, and even looked away. He continued, "You're the first girl who's ever seen me like that, y'know... Outside of pay-as-you-go'" This time she did look up. Joseph didn't look half-bad, some would even say he looked good. He had short brown hair, he was at six-feet, he even had some muscle on him. She almost laughed.

"How is that possible? You look good!" He frowned, and it was his turn to look away.

"What Jacob tried to do those years ago... Every girl has been scared to go near me since. They think I might try to hurt them, that I might go berserk if they dump me. You should have at least guessed that." She hadn't thought of that, actually. She, being an only child, didn't understand the concept of "sibling relations". She got up, and hugged him from behind.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she said, feeling remorse. He felt her tits on his back. He couldn't stop himself. His cock, originally placed between his pants and waist, was growing, pushing itself out of his pants. She, herself, could see this, but she didn't freak out this time. He knew she was watching. With a little oomph to his PC muscle, it pulled out past his shirt, and appeared in the sunlight.

"Not used to hugs, either?" she asked rhetorically. She walked around in front of him, looking at his dick. He just stood there, not caring about it any more. She licked her lips, and asked, "Want to have sex?" He looked her in the eye, and freaked out a bit. His dick grew stiffer, the question obviously answered, but he asked, "I'm not sure I know how."

Panic showed in her eyes. "You're... Not a... Virgin, are you?" He shook his head no, replied, "It's just I've never done it for a reason other than to cum. I mean, I cared less about the hooker cumming than I cared about me." She nodded understandably, and fell onto her knees. She pulled off his pants, revealing that his balls were the size of golf balls. Were they always like that, or had he not...?

"Ready?" she asked. "As ready as I'll ever be he said."

It was unusual at first, trying to give such a large dick a blowjob. Though it wasn't too wide it wouldn't fit in her mouth, it was the length that worried her. She started slowly, moving it deeper and deeper until her nose was on his body, and she pulled back, using her left arm as a support on his stomach. Drool and pre-cum fell onto her chin, little lines connect his dick to her mouth. She gasped a bit. "My God... I'm not used to so much..."

"So the Mister ain't as equipped as the plumber, is he?" She looked up at him, he smiling back with a look of triumph in his eyes. "No," she said flatly, "He's not. But he's a hell of a better fuck than you."

"Really?" he asked, still smiling. "Then who's dick would you rather blow?" She looked down to her eye level, staring at the massive dick. She bit her lip, and proceeded to suck on the head and rub his shaft. He leaned against the wall for support, trying not to let gruff moans out.

She sucked hard and beat furiously, causing him to bust a nut rather quickly. "I'm cummin'!" he yelled, and she immediately grabbed his balls, pulling them down. It was an odd sensation, but he felt quite more sexual tension as his balls tried to rise up and she pulled opposite. He started spewing it out in streams instead of wads, with Mrs. coughing out semen and more getting onto her face and her hair. It fell down her shirt, warming her cool chest with his pleasure. He started losing his erection, his eyes rolling.

"How long has it been since you came?" she asked quietly. He sighed, "About two weeks. Why?" She coughed a bit, muttering, "Answers the question about your balls..." And then he looked at her.

Her face was whiter than before, as if he painted her face. Strands of hair stuck together, and some hung as globes at the ends of it on her shoulders. She wiped more away from her eyes, and a v-line of cum lined her shirt. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'. Fuck, I'm covered in it... Aw, screw it," she swore. Taking of her top, her tits lifted up and fell back down, and she started to wipe off her face with her shirt. She could see the beautiful tits swinging freely, bouncing up and down, swaying sideways, and they had the greatest nipples he had ever seen, pink as her tongue and the size of nickels. He grew hard again, and he began stroking himself.

She removed the cum-stained shirt from her face, saw him pleasuring himself. It was more than twice the size of his fist! She could feel herself leaving a puddle on the porch floor. He then asked, "What's your cup size?"

She blinked. "Why?"

"I get off on that stuff... Weird, huh? So what is it? 36C?" She laughed (and her tits bounced up and down), shook her head (and they moved side to side), and said, "30F's." He whistled. "Dah-yum! I like that!"

"I can see. C'mon, follow me..."

She led him into the master bedroom, a king-sized mattress with the works. She got onto the bed on all fours, and stretched out her back, her ass high in the air. A darker blue color was on the seams of her pants, and she asked seductively, "Please, Joseph, take off these pants..." He quickly did as he was told, revealing a nice, firm bottom and an equaling pleasing pussy. But then he frowned.

"Gotta condom?" he asked. She shook her head no. "Don't all teenage guys have condoms on hand?" He frowned. "Fuck," she said, then sighed exasperatedly. "Promise me you'll pull out."

"Promise. But... Uh..."

"Now what?!"

"Aren't I a little... Y'know... Big for you?" It did prove to be a problem. A seven-and-a-half inch dick doesn't work well with a girl just over five feet tall. Not to mention how wide he might make her... 'What if my husband comes home and wants to fuck? How can I explain my widening to him?' she thought.

But another thought said, 'Fuck him, fuck IT!'

"Put it in," she said. Immediately after, he forced his way in, and forgetting etiquette, tried put him in all at once. She yelled in pain, grabbing her ass and squirmed about. This put Joseph off balance, and he fell forward, all the way in. She could feel him inside of her, just behind her belly, and she forgot about the pain. He murmured a sort of apology, and began to slide in and out, going faster and faster, his balls banging against her legs, a rhythmic thud filling the room, her moans rising in intensity, juices gushing outwards, heat and panting combining together, until a high-pitched squeal came out of Mrs. Pasternak as she came onto the bed sheets, her legs giving way to her falling off of Joseph's dick onto the bed.

"I'm not done!" he complained. She gurgled a bit, then mustered the strength to say, "But I am, Joseph... Go home, I'm done..." He frowned, got mad, and realized something.

"You're not in a situation to tell me what to do." He grabbed her ass cheeks, spread them apart, and, to her horror, forced his dick into her ass. It was immense pain, followed by an unusual amount of pleasure. She could feel him inside her again, in a completely different sort of way. Her body was numb, and she felt only a fraction of what joy could possibly be gotten from this. She was being used. And then she felt something completely unusual. It felt as if Joseph's cock had gotten bigger, and cum was being pumped inside of her ass. He had cum. He sighed, simply stated, "The work here is done," pulled out, put on his boxers and pants from outside, and left her all alone and abused.

An hour passed. She finally had the strength (or the want) to get up, but couldn't sit down. Her ass was immensely sore, and as she walked around cum came falling out behind her onto the floor. Whose it was, she didn't know. The pipe was fixed. She cleaned off the porch, her bed, and put her clothes on to wash. She cleaned herself up, put on clean clothes, and made sure there was no more cum falling out of her.

A familiar sound of a key unlocking a door came to her ears. "Honey, I'm home!" called Mr. Pasternak. She walked slowly, and attempted not to make it look unusual, and said, "Hi, hun!" They kissed, and he asked, "How was your weekend?" promptly followed by a playful, yet forceful slap onto the bottom.

"Yelp!" she cried.