MOTHER & SON WITH TOYLAND FUN

MOTHER & SON WITH TOYLAND FUN
Dad's gift was a consolation prize, mom's was a surprise consummation!
A FleshLight Fable, with Dabbling Dildo, Cock & Cunt Coupling Included

by Oediplex 8==3~


It had been a long-standing tradition among the men of our family that they get laid on their 18th birthday, or there abouts. My dad had to wait a day longer because the whorehouse in town was closed on Christmas, a Sunday. But that is another story. My cousin had to wait a month extra, since he broke a leg the day before his turning the magical number. The day his cast came off, he cast off in a call-girl who was dressed as a nurse. That's a story that ought to be shared, but not mine to tell.

I looked forward to MY day, and kept my virginity (intact?) as was expected by my mother. All the women knew of the male custom of fathers taking sons to the whorehouse, or renting a hooker, loaning them his mistress; etc. to help them celebrate their majority and copulate for the first time. The men claimed that it was a bonding ritual, going back untold generations. The women figured that if it kept the boys from knocking up a maiden before the youth was of marrying age, (or began using birth control in modern times) it was a practical system. There were worse fates that could befall a lad before he reached eighteen than celibacy.

Thus when on a Saturday morning, 6575 days after I had been born, (though who's counting?) when I heard a knock on my door and my dad came into my bedroom; I expected that my virginity would be missing by night fall, but the absence would not be regretted.

I was wrong.

My father held a brightly colored, gift wrapped box. He sat on the side of my bed, I propped up on the padded headboard. He didn't hand me the package immediately. “Son, I know that we have a tradition in our family, the males heirs are to be provided the means to have their first piece of ass when they turn eighteen by their fathers. But with all the STDs and perhaps the more enlightened times of today, along with the politically correct sort of morals we are burdened with since women's liberation: that is to say, with the whorehouse out of business and without your mother's permission otherwise, I can't provide the standard practice of getting you laid.” My face showed my disappointment.

“Sorry, son. But that doesn't mean we want you going around looking for tail. We understand a young man has needs. So we decided to provide . . . mm . . . an alternative to having to . . . get a gal in bed and possibly getting her pregnant. We know you are fully educated in condoms and that kind of thing, but being educated doesn't help if you are in heat and forgot to have one on you.”

I expected the wrapped gift to contain rubbers among other items, listening to what he was saying. I got the idea that I could not expect my pater to pander for my peter and supply the female for initiation into the sexual realm of manhood, which was the baptism of a female's womanhood.

'Have to catch and bag your own poontang, boy, but here are some handy packets – don't leave home without 'em.' So I imagine the message about to be laid on me. But no, as dad continued he had another plan of action, or rather no action. I was to keep my 'memberhead' out of hot-water and other heated wetness of any feminine persuasion which might tempt me before or after (what???) He didn't make that clear, but what was obvious from his rather jumbled speech he stumbled over as it spilling out, was that my folks (read, mainly mom) wanted me to hold off the rite of passage, and indeterminately postpone my entrance into any vagina. Thus my masculine heritage, to wit, the natural instinct to have sex, should be delayed gratification for this generation; in other words, me. They wanted me to put off having sex, plain and simple.

But they had the right thing to help. My wimp father had wussed out on me by not providing my birthright. The legacy of which every one of our ancestors who had a pair of balls had been privileged to partake of, to sample the practice of prostitution for their first time. Cop-out pop handed me the gaily wrapped package. I glumly tore the paper off. It was a FleshLight. Google it, if you don't know what this new type of 'pocket-pussy' male toy is all about. This was larger that the standard portable “fill-doe” (rhymes with dildo) or artificial vagina, an AV.

Dad explained that he and mom had talked at length. He wanted to carry on the tradition somehow, she to protect me and the wombs of any girls I might date. "No teen pregnancy allowed in our history, safety first please. We need to remember to keep up the good traditions too." Mom suggested an artificial vagina. She had several dildos for when dad went on his occasional extended consulting-work trips. Not that dad mentioned that; however I did know just the same. It wasn't a big secret that mom had a strong sex drive.

But when they had discussed the issue, pop pointed out that most models of imitation cooze were too stiff and the one that was life size cost as much as a second-hand car. But mom had stumbled upon the newly devised FleshLight in her web surfing. It was a good compromise and seemed to fit the bill. It might even fit the cock of their boy, for his eighteenth. At least they hoped I would, “use it in good health” and if I wore it out they'd buy me another. No condoms, but a large tube of lube to go along with my consolation prize, my fake fuck fun.

Yippee! - Not really . . .

My pater's words broke into my dour sour thoughts, “Oh, and I got a call from Schenectady, they need me first thing Monday morning so I have to leave tomorrow morning to catch a flight out to NY. But we'll go out to dinner tonight at your favorite restaurant and I'll be back on Wednesday. Then, how about I take you out to a football game or something, okay? I think your mom has a few other things planned this weekend as part of the celebration, you won't be disappointed.”

That was all well and good, but a ball-game at a stadium was not the sort of event I had hoped for, where the term balling might be applied to a contact 'sport'. However, if mom was in on the kibosh about my losing my purity, chastity and innocence, then we menfolk were doomed to virtue.

My father did swear me to a sort of secrecy, all the same. He said that this new fangled AV, (which was not unlike something he had devised in college, way back when) was actually rather a good lay, and he was ordering one for himself to take on the longer trips. It would keep him from going nuts with his robust sex drive. “But don't tell mom!” he emphasized, “as she might get jealous.” He couldn't resist trying my toy out before he had wrapped it. “It can even be heated!” he enthused. Well, it was not exactly like having your father's mistress, or his favorite lady-of-pleasure in the local house of ill-repute, but my plastic pussy came with dad's seal (make that semen) of approval.

I still would have rather visited a brothel.

Dinner was fine and when we returned home mom had baked a cake and I opened the other gifts. Cash sent in cards from my uncles or shoes grandma ordered on line delivered by UPS, or the nice selection of electronic doodads that mom and dad-the-dud produced were alright. I did enjoy the meal out. Since Pop had to pack, and I wanted to try out my new things – certainly the psuedo-slit in private, all three of us retired early. My sister, at Northwestern U., called me on my cell just as I closed the door to my room. She commiserated on my plight of virginity being extended beyond the expected deadline of my birthday. She assured me if she was not at college, she would hook me up with one of her horny friends, whom she was quite sure would have been glad to have my cherry.

My luck.

But after talking with her and then listening to my new IPOD, and playing some new video games – and polishing off a bottle of Rhine wine, since I could drink at home legally now; I was too tired to do the private activity. Instead of pulling my pudd, or with the new gizmo I guess it would be 'putting the power' into the Fleshlight, giving it the juice as it were; instead I simply pulled up the sheets and went to sleep as my brain switched off.

In the morning, I awoke with my usual woodie, made extra stiff by yesterday's monastic lifestyle as continued in my bedroom, or monk's cell it seemed. Sex? Nun of that for Friar first-timer, thanks to Father Fraid-no-fuck-for-you-son. My day to get my inaugural screwing passed without a single orgasm.

How sad is that?

So I was more than ready to try my new boink-it-toy-for-a-horny-boy. I always slept in the raw, so that I was already prepped for the operation. I reached under the bed for the jollies du jour (et lubrication), c'est bon! Imagine my surprise then, when just as I had drawn up my shiny and fresh (dad said he washed it) AV, on this Sunday morning, 6576 days after I had been born, I heard a knock on the door and in walks mom.

She is dressed in her robe. I knew she was already awake, as I heard her sending dad off in a taxi to the airport for his trip a short while ago. She was all smiles. She brought me a glass of OJ. I figured that she would leave soon to do chores or something. I wondered if they had a goodbye fuck? If not maybe she would go to her room and play with her toys too.

The thought of that captured my imagination. I pictured mom with a dildo sawing in and out of her pussy. I had for some time realized that mom was a sexy woman. I knew of both her and my dad's intense sex drive. I got my own from their genetics. I suddenly saw my mom as a MILF. Not just attractive, but as my Mother-I'd-Love-to-Fuck. Perhaps it was the lack of . . . make that - having kept my virginity . . . plus the item I had on my lap, in plain view. Whatever, at that very moment I desperately desired my mom. She was looking at my crotch. For a moment, I thought she was focused at my hard-on, as yet still hidden by the covers. But no she was interested in the AV.

“That's it?” she asked. “I knew your father was ordering one. But I didn't get to see it when it arrived, and then your dad said he had wrapped it and hidden it so that you wouldn't discover your present before your birthday. I told him that you don't try to sneak peeks, but he insisted that he didn't want the cat, pussy?, out of the bag too early. That was sort of his area, as that was a substitute for your expectations of banging some nasty skanky harlot. But I think he might even wanted to try the bogus-beaver before wrapping it. I hope you were not to disappointed.” Then before I could express my sense of being let down about not having a real woman at last, or my eagerness to try the ersatz sex experience first thing this AM, she asked, “Can I see?”

Who was I to refuse my favorite lady her request? Especially when she reached for it and took it out of my hands nonetheless. I had been so lost in thoughts about her and her own toys, that I forgot to hide mine. No reason too, but it felt initially awkward with mother handling my object of lust, when she herself also was strongly stirring similar feelings within my gonads! Mom extended her right index finger and poked it in the FleshLight. My father had ordered the clear plastic styles for both case and vaginal mold. Thus I had the unique view of my mother's finger being stuck up a pussy like it was an x-ray or MRI. “I wonder what it looks like with a dick in it?” Mother mused.

For a moment I thought she wanted me to demonstrate. But she gave a little giggle and said to wait where I was, she'd be right back. She scampered to her own room and quickly returned back, chortling with a trill of laughter each way. “This should provide the idea of what I'll missed viewing when it got to see action last night.” she said, settling on my bedside once more. In her hand was one of her dildos, the life-like one that was fairly close to as natural a prick as you could produce from modern artificial materials. Mom obscenely fitted the dildo and 'fill-doe' together right there, sitting on my bed exactly where dad had given it to me not 24 hours ago. it was obvious that the connection needed greasing. I got the tube of lube and added a squirt to the union of plastic ying and yang being demonstrated. My dad tried it, now mom had tried it too.
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