Chapter 3: Mum
She was already knocking on the kitchen door as Jason scrambled off the chair to look through the window. By the time he reached the window, she could see us through the glass of the door. Jason grabbed my wrist, his palm damp. "The kilt," he hissed. "She can't see...."
The door swung inward before I could respond. "Jason Blake, I know you're in here," as she walked in, adjusting her eyes to the lack of sunlight. Then she took one sweeping glance, seeing us both like rabbits in headlights. Her son, naked and wild-haired, Me, equally naked, looking like I had been ravished a few times with the unmistakable scent of sex and sweat thick between us.
Her nostrils flared. Then, with deliberate slowness, she extracted a packet of cigarettes from her cardigan pocket as she stood in my kitchen.
"Wood chopping, eh?" she said, looking at Jason as she lit up, exhaling smoke through a knowing smirk. "Since when do guys chop wood, naked, Jason?"
“Always,” I answered. “That’s why we have choppers,” realising too late that perhaps this wasn’t the moment to crack a joke.
Jason turned scarlet from collarbone to hairline. Jason's mother winked at me over his shoulder, tapping ash onto the doorstep. "It's been a while since I saw you naked, Jason. Last time was with Dr Nelson when he examined you. Clearly, from the smell in here and the state of you, you know how to use it."
Jason’s blush got worse as he made a strangled noise, grabbing the discarded dayshirt from the floor, only to fumble it when his mother tutted. "Leave it," she ordered. "I'm glad you finally found someone who appreciates your... unique situation," as her gaze flicked to me, assessing. "Especially someone who clearly knows what he's doing with it, regardless of age," as she inhaled sharply on her cigarette.
I crossed my arms, conscious of my own nudity but refusing to flinch. The silence stretched until Jason blurted, "Steve gave me a kilt! For the...you know.... to wear. That's why I'm naked, Mum."
"Really? Maybe, son?" she questioned as she rolled her eyes. "What doesn't support your story is why your friend is also naked. Perhaps he gave you his personal kilt, did he? That's the only answer to explain the impropriety here."
I stood speechless as she stubbed out the cigarette on the doorframe and stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a decisive click, circling us before walking into the lounge with Jason and me following.
Without being asked, she sat on the sofa. Jason shrank against the cabinet while I searched for something to say. Then, nodding approvingly at the discarded kilt on the rug, she picked it up for inspection. "Jason darling, I’ve found the kilt and… nice, good fabric," she murmured.
Then, without warning, she reached out and pinched Jason's bare hip. "You've lost weight, son. Turn around, will you? I want to inspect you."
He yelped, flinching away. "Mum!"
"Don't 'Mum' me." Now do as I say. I want to check your body,” as she placed her hands on Jason’s hip.
I watched Jason become totally humiliated as she gave his body a once-over. “Jason, you have a fine body, you know, almost magnificent, some would say, and definitely, your dad was half the man you have become.”
“Really, Mum? Not now.”
“Well, it's true, and I hope, Steve, you are dealing with his…um, length, not that you need anything longer, either.”
I choked on air. Jason groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead as his mother smirked, fishing another cigarette from her pocket.
"Right," she said, lighting up. "Now that's settled, Jason, sit. You there, Steve, I'll take that tea you're not offering."
I rushed to the kitchen as she settled on the sofa like a queen holding court, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. "And someone open a window. This place smells like a brothel."
Jason met my eyes over her head, equal parts mortified and oddly relieved. His cock, still half-hard from our earlier activities, twitched pathetically in the sudden draft as his mother sat there opposite him, and I turned the kettle, hurrying to make her the cup of tea she had demanded.
She inhaled deeply on her cigarette before speaking again, her voice dripping with amusement. "Well, Steve. I'm guessing you're the one who's been keeping my boy...occupied? He hardly slept last night and was up before I was, doing the chores that normally take him days to complete," her sarcasm not missed as her gaze flicked meaningfully to the damp spot on the rug where Jason and I had climaxed earlier, then back to my naked form.
Jason groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "Christ, Mum..."
"Language," she chided automatically, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. The kettle whistled as I poured boiling water into a mug with shaking hands, my mind racing.
Tea made, I handed it to her, our fingers brushing briefly. Her hands were rough, work-worn, and unexpectedly warm. "You're not bad yourself, if I may say so. Quite the pair you make."
I wanted to die as she took a sip, then gestured with the mug toward Jason. "He's always been...special," she said matter-of-factly. "Had to teach him how to tuck it into his underwear when he was twelve. Bloody thing kept getting caught when he played in the playground."
Jason made a strangled noise, his semi-erect manhood wilting under the onslaught of maternal candour. I bit back a laugh, watching the way his mother's eyes softened even as her words remained brusque.
She stubbed out her cigarette in the saucer I'd provided. "Right," she said briskly, standing and brushing imaginary lint from her cardigan. "I'll be off then. Jason, I'll take your clothes as you clearly don’t need them, and for the record, I wish I had thought years ago about a kilt for you. It would have saved you so much pain and discomfort, especially when you entered puberty."
"And you, Steve, nice to meet you. Perhaps wear something the next time we meet, but until then, thank you for not treating him like a.... well, you know what I mean. Some of Jason's friends forgot they were friends and just used him for their own release." Then she tossed the kilt at her son. "And you'll both be at mine for Sunday dinner. Three sharp."
"Mum, that's two days away. What am I going to do between now and then? Don't you want me home to do the chores?"
At the door, she paused, turning back with one hand on the frame. "I want you to enjoy yourself, and you can come home at any time, but I thought you might like to become better acquainted. Oh, and Steve?" Her smirk returned. "Go easy on him. He may be hung like a prize stallion, but he's still my little boy."
"Mrs Blake, before you go, how did you know?" I asked.
"Call me Sarah, and...it was quite simple. Jason doesn't even chop our wood," she declared as the door clicked shut behind her, leaving silence broken only by Jason's horrified whisper:
"I need to move state."
"You need to move state. I’m thinking country, but beforehand, I need a bloody drink and now," I stated as I headed for the whisky decanter, pouring myself a hefty measure. Taking a huge sip of the amber nectar, I declared, "That was fucking.... random, to say the least," at which the tension fell apart as we both laughed out loud.
Composing ourselves after a good laugh, Jason broke the moment. "Since we're both naked, with stonking hard-ons, shall we.....? as Jason bent over the kitchen table, offering me his body as his outstretched arms held the edge of the wood, making my decision predictable.
I squeezed some lube onto my rigid cock, tossing the tube onto the draining board and guided myself towards Jason's entrance. "Steve, fuck me hard this time, let me have all of you," was all he said when I entered him. His breath hitched as I pushed in deeper, the tight heat of him making my thighs tremble.
Jason arched his back, pressing himself harder against me with a groan. "Christ, you feel good," I muttered, gripping his hips as I set a punishing rhythm. The table creaked beneath us, glasses rattling in the cupboard. His mother’s sudden appearance had left us both wired with adrenaline and lust tangling into something desperate. Jason’s fingers scrambled against the wood grain, his earlier confidence melting into raw need.
When his hand slid between his legs to stroke himself, I smacked it away. "Mine," I growled, wrapping my fingers around his cock instead, matching the pace of my thrusts. He whimpered, his body tightening around me, and I knew he was close as I pounded him harder.
The noise we made, skin slapping, Jason’s bitten-off curses, was obscene, reckless. Exactly what we needed.
I felt him pulse in my hand a second before his climax hit, his muscles clenching around me as he came with a scream of pleasure. The sensation almost dragged me over the edge, but I resolved to keep pounding him as I kept massaging his cock, taking him to the border of oversensitivity until he was shouting, stop, stop.
I refused to stop, my thrusts becoming more urgent and I rammed home to the hilt, my balls touching his skin, my pubic hair flat against his buttocks as I felt my climax build and then, I released my seed in a powerfully explosive orgasm, shooting ropes of cum as far as I could inside him as he whined and moaned from my hand still massaging his spent cock.
Moments later, my vision whited out as I buried myself deep inside him again for a final thrust and release.
I felt dizzy as my heart rate started to drop, my hands playing with his back, scratching little circles in his skin while my cock remained in place. We stayed like that, panting, until Jason’s legs gave out. He slumped onto the table with a breathless laugh. "Fuck. My mother might have heard us."
"Good," I muttered, still half-insensate, hips twitching lazily against him. The lube had cooled, making everything slick and sticky in equal measure. A drop of sweat rolled down my temple and splashed onto the small of his back.
Jason turned his head just enough to smirk at me over his shoulder. His eyelashes were clumped together, his grin wolfish despite his spent state. "You're still in me," he observed, voice rough.
"I am, and I'm going to remain until I naturally drop out. Do you mind?"
Jason snorted, shifting slightly, testing the connection between us. "Wouldn't dream of asking you to move," as he stretched his arms above his head, the motion making me groan as his muscles clenched around me. "Though I might need to eat at some point."
Jason swallowed diligently and rolled onto his back on the table, as I pulled out, his lips shone slick in the light, his chest still heaving when he looked up through blond lashes. "I think you’ve reached your capacity for now. That was fucking brilliant. I’m still feeling you and… and do you think we still need to move countries?"
"Nope. Not sure moving countries would improve our technique," I replied, smiling at Jason as he got up off the table, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment. “As for my capacity, it rather suggests you’ve shown too much interest in my production today.”
Jason laughed. “I guess so.”
"Another thing, in my day, if I had been caught lying to my mother, I would have been spanked. Times change, but perhaps you should chop some wood.... naked as punishment."
Jason snorted, rubbing his jaw. "You're not serious?"
But the glint in his eye suggested he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. He stretched, muscles rippling in the afternoon light, his cock already stirring again, half-hard and twitching against his thigh.
I reached out, tracing the curve of his hipbone. "Dead serious. If you're going to lie about chopping wood, you might as well do it properly."
Jason arched an eyebrow, then grinned. "Fine. But you're watching," as he snatched up the kilt from where it lay crumpled on the floor, folding it carefully on the sofa.
Outside, the axe leaned against the woodpile, its handle worn smooth from use. Jason hefted it with effortless strength, rolling his shoulders before bringing it down in a clean arc. The blade bit deep into the log with a satisfying crack.
I lounged against the porch railing, watching the play of sunlight on his sweat-slicked back, the way his naked body shifted with each swing. Jason glanced over his shoulder, catching me staring, and smirked. "Enjoying the view?"
"Immensely," I replied.
He chuckled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Good. Because I'm not stopping until you come over here and help me."
The challenge hung between us, charged and undeniable. I pushed off the railing, strolling toward him with deliberate slowness. Jason's breathing hitched as I stepped close, my fingers brushing the small of his back.
"You were saying?" I murmured against his ear.
Jason's grip on the axe tightened. "I was saying..." He turned abruptly, pressing me against the freshly split woodpile, his mouth hot and insistent against mine. The axe clattered to the ground, forgotten.
The scent of pine resin and sweat mingled as his hands found my hips, tugging me flush against him. The rough bark bit into my back, but I barely noticed, not with Jason kissing me like he was starving, not with the way his body fit against mine, hard and wanting.
"Still think I need more punishment?" he breathed against my lips.
I laughed, low and warm. "Oh, we're just getting started. Now, you naughty boy, I want you to masturbate for me, here and now. I want you to deal with that raging, huge, hard-on because I’m not sure I can take it anymore today."
Jason's groan was part protest, part arousal. "Out here?" His gaze darted toward the tree line, where shadows danced between the Bluebells.
"Especially out here, and I want you to enjoy that cock of yours and explore it. It’s beautiful, and it's yours. Accept it and embrace it. Show me what you can do," I murmured, stepping back to lean against the rough bark of an oak. The afternoon sun gilded Jason's erection, already fully hard again, the flushed head glistening with precum that dripped down his shaft.
He hesitated only a moment before wrapping his fingers around himself, his broad palm dwarfing his own girth. The first stroke drew a choked gasp from him, his hips jerking forward into his fist.
"Slower," I commanded, watching his knuckles whiten as he obeyed, dragging his fist up in an excruciatingly slow glide.
A breeze carried the scent of crushed flowers and earth, mingling with the musk of Jason's arousal as he worked himself. His free hand wandered to his chest, pinching a nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch. The contrast was delicious, his rough, calloused fingers teasing the sensitive flesh, his cock twitching in time with each twist of his wrist.
"Look at you," I murmured. "Such a naughty boy."
Jason whimpered, his rhythm faltering as his thighs trembled. His balls drew up tight, the muscles of his stomach clenching as pleasure coiled visibly in him.
I pushed off the chopping block that had become my temporary stool and closed the distance between us, catching his wrist just as his breath hitched. "Not yet," I whispered against his lips, tasting salt and summer air.
Jason's whine was pure frustration, but he stilled obediently, his cock pulsing in the circle of my fingers.
"Good boy," I praised, releasing him to trail my fingers down his sweat-slicked chest. "Now, I want you to cum, and then I'm going to shower you down afterwards."
Jason's breath shuddered out as he resumed stroking himself, his grip slick with precum now. His hips pistoned shallowly, chasing the friction as his free hand clutched at my shoulder for balance. The sun highlighted every vein along his shaft, his gland bright and pronounced with each pass of his hand, revealing the flushed, leaking head.
I watched, mesmerised, as Jason's rhythm grew erratic, his breaths coming in punched-out gasps, his thighs quivering with tension. Jason dropped to his knees as he approached his climax. He kneeled in front of me and continued to moan as he got closer.
I was glued to the view when he hit his peak, his release streaking across the sun-warmed grass in thick ropes as his back arched beautifully. I counted four or five ropes of cum erupt from him, feeling regret that I wasn't there to swallow all of it, but this was his punishment, not mine to enjoy tasting.
Jason remained kneeling, trembled through the aftershocks, his softening cock still twitching as I took my cock, pointing it directly at his face.
“Shower time, I declared as the first hot stream hit his forehead, trickling down the bridge of his nose. Jason gasped but didn't flinch away, his eyelashes fluttering as warm water dripped onto his parted lips. He swallowed reflexively, the muscles of his throat working as more golden liquid filled his mouth, spilling over his chin in rivulets that darkened the golden hairs of his chest.
"That's it," I murmured, angling my hips to paint his collarbones, watching the liquid pool in the hollows before cascading down his torso. The scent of ammonia mingled with the earthy aroma of the woods, primal and intimate. Jason tilted his head back obediently, letting the stream patter against his eyelids, his cheeks, the pink shell of his ear until droplets clung to his earlobe like misplaced jewels.
When I finished, Jason remained perfectly still, kneeling in the puddle with urine dripping from his elbows where they rested on spread thighs. His breathing was ragged, pupils blown wide with something between awe and submission. I reached down, smearing a thumb through the wetness on his cheekbone.
"Stand," I ordered.
Jason rose unsteadily, his muscles quivering as much from exertion as adrenaline. The golden shower had left him marked, his skin glistening in the late afternoon light. I circled him slowly, admiring the way droplets clung to the small of his back, the curve of his arse and the backs of his knees.
"You look beautiful, Jason," I told him as I wrapped my arms around him, smelling his hair full of me and my scent. "Let's finish the wood pile together, and then we can have a long bath and enjoy dinner later.
Jason grinned, picking up the axe with renewed vigour. His muscles flexed beneath urine-streaked skin as he swung, the blade biting deep into the wood with each powerful stroke. I worked beside him, stacking the split logs, our movements falling into an easy rhythm.
There was something profoundly intimate about this shared labour, the way our bodies moved in sync, the occasional brush of shoulders, the unspoken understanding that passed between us with each exchanged glance. This wasn't just about sex anymore; it was companionship, something deeper settling into the spaces between our shared breaths.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the clearing, painting Jason gold as sweat mingled with the remnants of his marking. He paused once, panting, to swipe damp hair from his forehead, and the way he looked at me then, soft, unguarded, made my chest tighten. Here, in this ordinary moment of chopping wood, something shifted. The realisation crept up like dawn: we weren't just lovers finding fleeting pleasure. We were building something that could last from an extraordinary meeting only a day before.
Jason must have felt it, too. When our hands brushed, reaching for the same log, he didn't jerk away or turn it into a lewd gesture. Instead, his fingers lingered, curling around mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary. His smile was small, private, just for me. The axe lay forgotten at our feet as we stood there, sticky and spent and strangely content, the scent of split pine and our mingled sweat thick in the warm air.
"Steve," he started, then stopped, chewing his lip. The vulnerability in his eyes was new. This wasn't the same boy who'd fled into these woods weeks ago, ashamed of his body. This Jason stood tall, bare and unapologetic, with wood chips in his hair and my scent still on his skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with something more than exertion. "I think I...."
"I think..." taking an equal pause, "We should finish this and then enjoy a long hot bath," I interjected before he said something that I was only thinking."
And then, we heard clapping. Stunned by the sound, we both turned as one to see Sarah, Jason's mother, leaning against the decking on the back porch, arms crossed, watching us with amused exasperation. "Christ, boys," she called," at least put some gloves on if you're handling wood naked!"
Jason yelped at being caught naked again. I just stood there, bemused by the turn of events... again with Sarah's reappearance. She rolled her eyes and pushed off the railing. "Relax, I've seen worse at the town bar on karaoke night."
Then her expression sobered. "Actually, I forgot something important." She reached into her cardigan pocket, grabbing a cigarette. "Your uncle's coming to visit tomorrow afternoon. Thought you'd want a warning before he walks in on..." She gestured vaguely at our state of undress and the axe lying abandoned in the grass.
Jason groaned, "Uncle Richard?"
Sarah shrugged. "Apparently, his relationship has broken up, and he needs a break, which reminds me," as she fixed me with a suddenly sharp look. "He doesn't know about your ...Jason's situation. Only, his sister and I know, plus most of the young men around here," as her gaze flicked to Jason's midsection meaningfully before adding pointedly, "And now you."
Jason turned an impressive shade of crimson. "Mum, for fuck's sake."
But Sarah was already walking away, calling over her shoulder, "Just giving you a heads-up, love! Don't want him screaming the house down when he sees his favourite nephew's third leg!"
Silence settled over the back garden, broken only by the distant rustle of Bluebells in the breeze. Jason stared at the ground like it held the answer to some cosmic riddle.
"Fuck," he breathed.
I reached out and closed his fingers around mine, my touch lingering. "It'll be fine. We will just have to wear clothes."
Jason exhaled shakily, "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to explain to your uncle why you're shagging the neighbour if he finds out."
I couldn't help it, I laughed, low and warm, pulling him close despite his half-hearted protests. His skin smelled of pine resin and summer heat and something uniquely Jason. "Welcome to adulthood," I murmured against his temple. "Now let's go and have that bath and enjoy ourselves before tomorrow."
The bath was fantastic. Jason lay back against me in the hot water, the cast-iron bath more than able to contain our sprawled limbs. Bubbles piled high around us, iridescent in the early evening light filtering through the steamed-up window. My fingers traced lazy circles around his half-hard cock beneath the froth, feeling him twitch and thicken gradually against my palm. He sighed, head lolling against my shoulder, his wet hair tickling my collarbone.
"Never thought baths could be this good," Jason murmured, his voice thick with contentment. His hand found mine underwater, guiding my grip firmer around him with unspoken instruction. The water sloshed gently as he shifted, spreading his thighs wider to give me better access. I obliged, stroking him slowly, relishing the way his breathing hitched when my thumb swiped over the slit.
"What's wrong with Uncle Richard coming to visit?" I asked in a whisper. "You didn't seem to relish the idea."
Jason went stiff in my arms, the bubbles popping loudly in the sudden silence. His cock softened in my grip as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "You remember when I told you about the last time someone tried to touch me without asking?" His voice was flat, too controlled.
The water sloshed as he twisted to face me, revealing a thin white scar along his ribcage I'd never noticed before. "Uncle Richard cornered me by the old millpond when I was fifteen," as he traced the mark with trembling fingers. "He kept asking to see me, saying how 'special' and 'blessed' I was, how he could 'help me' with my...problem."
Jason's laugh was bitter as he continued, "When I ran, I fell over and cut myself badly, but I didn't allow Uncle Richard to touch me."
The scar gleamed pale under the water's surface, suddenly looking more like a battle wound than anything else. His fingers trembled as they traced the jagged line. "Ran home bleeding through my shirt and told Mum I fell, which was the truth, but I didn't tell her the circumstances."
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "She believed me, thank God and Uncle Richard arrived back, equally worried, but all was good, and the incident was never mentioned again. Uncle Richard fancies me. Always has and... I just don't fancy him, and mum doesn't even know he's gay and that he tried to take advantage of me."
The words hung between us, thick with everything Jason hadn't said. Water dripped from the tap in slow, measured beats, counting out the silence. Outside, evening birds called to one another across the treetops, oblivious to the storm brewing in this steamy little bathroom.
"Wow. He's gay, and your mum has no idea. That’s a first for a sister not to know their brother is gay," I suggested.
"Yep, you got it in one. Now, kiss me and tell me what you have planned this evening when we get out of this bath," Jason demanded.
"Well, firstly, I'm going to dry you, and then we will go downstairs and prepare dinner together. Afterwards, I fancy watching TV on the sofa with the fire keeping us warm. And then, I want to take you to bed and eventually wrap my arms around you and fall asleep," I outlined. "Sound okay?"
"Perfect," Jason responded as he snuggled onto my chest, blowing bubbles onto my face as we lay together.
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