The Magic Pill Ch. 01


Hi. My name is Batya; when I lost my husband Eliyahu to 9/11, I stopped having sex and even desiring men, until my son Shlomo has come of age.

He isn’t just handsome – he’s intellectually outstanding, has gotten an MS in Physics and is going to get a PhD from the MIT.

I often dream of him teaching physics and entertaining the best of his female pupils in his apartment – me among them.

He’s noticed that I’ve bought several books on theoretical physics (some of them have been advised by him), and that I wear more revealing clothes when I am with him, but he doesn’t apparently want to please me.

He must have gotten the message – from time to time I find him staring at my décolletage (36L – no man could help being turned on), and he often seems emotionally overwhelmed when he is with me, but I don’t know how to convince him to make the first step.

I once asked him to lead me to a lingerie shop, and to help me choose the bras – he chose the sexiest ones, so he thinks that I’m more a woman than his mother, but he has done nothing beyond that.

I once wanted him to teach me breast self-examination, but before I could do that I realized that it would have worked against me – it’s impossible to fall in love with a woman you’ve touched for medical reasons!

I opened to a friend at last, who gave me this piece of advice: “Do you have a gynaecologist?”

“Yes, I do.”

“When are you going to get an internal?”

“Next week.”

“I’d make Shlomo believe that you’re going there to get a pill prescription.”

“I’m menopausal. I’m actually going there because I need hormone replacement therapy.”

“Does Shlomo know that?”

“No. He lives in the campus, he doesn’t know much of my life at home.”

“So you may dupe him into thinking that you really need the pill. It may make him jealous, and eager to take his last chance.”

“And perhaps he had never acted his desires because he was afraid to get me pregnant. Ok, I can test your suggestion.”

When I came home, I took the calendar I used to mark my period on from a drawer, scribble some random signs, so Shlomo wouldn’t know that I stopped having my period 8 months ago (no, I’m not pregnant – only my breasts have grown lately), and I phoned him to ask if he could bring me to the OB/GYN next week.

“So you’re going to be on the pill, mom, aren’t you? Congratulations! Who’s the lucky one?”

“There is no lucky one yet. I only want bahis firmaları to resume a modicum of sex life, and I want to avoid an embarrassing pregnancy.”

My son stood silent for a while, then he switched the conversation on other topics, and accepted to bring me to the OB/GYN.

A few minutes later my daughter Sheba phoned me, somewhat alarmed. She didn’t talk about the pill, but I figured out that Shlomo may have phoned her, and I made her the same announcement.

Sheba told me, “Mom, I’m glad that you’ve stopped mouring our beloved father, but I’m afraid you’re making the wrong choice – the best contraceptive for casual sex is the condom, which also protects you from STDs. Even if you prefer to be on the pill, you should always ask for a condom or keep some in your bag. And you should be very careful about the males you’re going to take to bed.”

Luckily, it wasn’t a video call, or my daughter would have seen me blushing because she’d found a flaw in my plan. But I could escape by the skin of my teeth by pretending ignorance and promising to ask my OB/GYN for advice, and my daughter wished me luck.

I asked her if she could bring me to the doctor, but she answered that she would be busy on that day, so I should rely on Shlomo. Whew, at least part of my plan worked.

Shlomo asked if he could come home the evening before the visit, and I eagerly accepted – if he was doing that, it meant that he wanted to spend some time with his busty and lusty mom. To what purpose?

I donned the best lingerie money could buy: a couple of fishnet stockings with lacy garters, a G-string so narrow that I had to completely shave my twat, a wholly lacy bra – all in black, as I wanted them to stand out under a white semi-transparent shirt and a miniskirt which suited more a cheerleader than a mature lady like me.

When Shlomo knocked at the door – and I opened it, his eyes couldn’t help plunging into my wide neck-opening; I smiled, hugged him so tightly that he felt my full tits and turgid nipples against his breast (and I felt his hardening genitalia against my belly), kissed him on the lips (no, it wasn’t a French kiss) and told him, “Oh, Shlomo, how much did I miss you!”

He didn’t loose himself from my hug, and told me, “Me too. It’s a pity there aren’t girls like you at the campus.”

Oh! I’ve nearly stricken home, I thought. The average minded son in his twenties would never confess having a mom! Then I grasped his kaçak iddaa hand, put it on my navel, thus putting his right arm around my left breast – and when I opened the kitchen door, and turned towards him, he felt my left nipple piercing his arm.

The dinner was ready, and on the table – which wasn’t the usual rectangular table, but a small square table borrowed from a nearby restaurant.

“What has happened?” my son asked while embracing my waist and pressing my left breast against his ribs, and I answered, “Yesterday I poured some hot soup on it, and it is being repaired by a joiner – he will bring it back tomorrow”. It was true, but I didn’t tell him that I had poured the soup on purpose!

We sat side by side, and our feet couldn’t help touching, and our legs and knees too; my spoon fell from my hand to my thighs, and his hand swiftly caught it. My hand caught his, and forced it to stay where it had landed, slowly crawling towards my cunt.

Shlomo got the message and his right hand deftly fondled my twat — not only did the clit get engorged, but also my breasts. While I was coming, Shlomo had to unbutton my shirt with his left handto let me breathe as I was squealing my pleasure. He also stroked my nipples and tried to take my tits out of the bra — so I reached for the bra buttons and I unlatched it.

Shlomo got bolder — when my mouth was closing on his, as I wanted a kiss, and my left hand opened his zip and grabbed his erect, monstrous cock (my late husband’s was somewhat smaller, and I hadn’t seen one in ten years), his fingers outflanked the G-string triangle, stroked my labia, fondled my clit, forced me to recline somewhat and spread my legs in order to let them enter my pussy, with a search warrant for the G-spot.

When they found it, they behaved like a well-trained and tireless firing squad — I had to beg for mercy, I hugged my son and kissed him in the mouth (he was a real pro!) and told him, “Let’s continue in bed.”

The bedroom wasn’t near the kitchen, and we were so in a hurry that we undressed as we ran to my double bed, and reached it completely naked. Shlomo didn’t give me the time to turn and lay procumbent — he bent me over the bed, entered my cunt from the rear while grabbing my tits. I muttered the blessing “Shehecheyanu” and I came; when he came too, took his cock out, and lay in bed beside me, I bent to his cock and licked it, as I wanted to taste my son’s spunk.

No good deed goes unpunished kaçak bahis — when I was done, Shlomo made me come again by licking my twat squeaky clean, and poured the semen and the juice he collected into my mouth. It was the first time I could taste myself — after making love — and I was inebriated by the mix of male and female juices in our mouths.

We hugged for a while, then Shlomo latched to my right nipple and began sucking it, arousing me; then he went to the left, and made me come; thus his erect penis penetrated me again giving me multiple orgasms, and completely unloading his genitalia.

We were now too tired to continue — we were also hungry, because lust had prevailed over hunger, and we were supperless; so we just cuddled — but I told my son, “Shlomo, you needn’t worry about my getting pregnant — I’ve been menopausal for several months, and I’m going to the OB/GYN to get a replacement therapy, not to get on the pill.”

“Hmm … and several months ago I realized that you were going to fuck me, but I didn’t know that you couldn’t get pregnant any more, and fear stopped me. But tonight I simply couldn’t resist your advances.”

“Hahahaha … while I thought that telling you that I was still fertile and willing to engage in casual sex nonetheless could make you jealous!”

“No, mom. Fertility is a big turn-off, if the we aren’t going to marry.”

“Wonderful your pronoun ‘we’! But please, tell me: who has trained you so well?”

“Er … prefer not to say.”

“Why? Was she a friend of mine? I’d like to thank her wholeheartedly! She can continue her training whenever you see fit!”

“Mom … her name was Sheba.”

“Sheba? Your sister? My daughter?”

“Yes. We’ve been in love for years, and that’s why she has chosen to live in my campus, even though she attends another faculty.”

“Gosh! I’d never guessed that. By the way, I thought your sister were lesbian!”

“She’s among the lesbians who think, ‘I only love women — and a special man’. I’m the special man.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We’re in an open relationship. Obviously, telling her that I have made love with our mom won’t be easy.”

“I may tell it to her.”

“Why? It’s me who is in a relationship with her. It’s me who has betrayed her more — you didn’t know that we were buddies.”

“But I may add something — that I’ve always been bi-curious.”

“Are you going to fuck her as well?”

“I’m a mom, I’ve pleased you — I can’t help pleasing her too.

“An old fantasy of mine was to sit on your thighs, me and Sheba, and suckle your breasts, mom.”

“If she assents, you may enact it in a few days.”

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