“What are you staring at, mister?”

I scowled at Brandon as I spoke, putting my hands on my hips for emphasis. Usually, that was all it would take to get him to fall in line, but today he just shot back a smug grin.

“What do you think I’m staring at?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. When had my son turned into such a little brat? I’ve always done my best to raise him right, and for the first eighteen years of his life, I thought I’d done a pretty decent job. Then today, it was like a switch flipped. From the moment he walked in our front door, it was as if all his manners had simply flown out the window.

“Young man,” I growled in a stern tone, “I did not raise you to talk back to me like that. Now, I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer me this instant!”

In response to my demand, Brandon momentarily shifted his eyes to meet mine, then burst out in a fit of giggles. I clenched my fists, angrier than I’ve been in years. I’d never seen this sort of behavior in him before, and frankly, I didn’t like it at all.

“Oh, come on, Mom. You don’t really want an answer. What you really want is to play with those big fucking titties you just whipped out for me.”

“Language, mister!” I barked in the most demanding tone I could muster as my hands shifted from their place on my hips so I could begin fondling my exposed breasts. “This is still my house, and we play by my rules! One more outburst like that and you’re grounded.” Brandon hasn’t been grounded in years, I thought as I rolled one of my nipples between my fingers. Hopefully that threat would put him in his place.

“You’re going to ground me?” He laughed defiantly. “Okay, sounds good, Mom. I guess if you’re going to do it, you might as well strip out of the rest of your clothes and tell me I’m grounded.” Well, so much for that idea.

“Fine.” I said curtly, unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them down to the floor. “You want to be grounded? You’re grounded.” I slipped my fingers under the waistband of my panties and slid them down to the floor as I added, “You can go to your room.”

“Seriously, Mom? Don’t you mean I can go to your room?” Brandon said with a smirk that I’d have liked to knock clean off his face. “You know that’s where you always send me when I’m grounded.”

“Young man!” I barked. “You know what I meant. Now, quit talking back and go to my room this instant!”

Brandon shrugged, turning toward the hallway. Before he started walking, though, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and took a selfie, smiling and giving a thumbs-up to his camera, making sure to capture me in the background. As soon as he pressed the shutter button, I finally realized what was going on.

“Brandon Franklin Forrester!” I cried out. “Are you seriously antagonizing your mother for one of those stupid TikTok challenges?!”

He laughed, turning to face me again. “Yeah, Mom,” he stated in a sarcastic tone. “That’s all this is. Now come on. You know you always follow me to your room so you can make sure I’m properly punished.” Brandon spun on his heels, dashing down the hall toward my bedroom. 

I sighed again, watching him race off and vanish around the corner in the hall. “And you will be,” I shouted after him. I took a step to clear my pile of clothes on the floor and then started walking at a leisurely pace down the hall. I knew full well that Brandon probably thought he could get me to run after him by bolting to my room, but we’re playing my game, not his. Taking my sweet time would show him that I’m the one in control. 

A moment later, I casually walked through my bedroom doorway, determined to make sure Brandon felt the consequences of his actions. When I saw him, though, I came to a dead stop.

“Brandon! What are you doing?” I shouted.

“What?” He asked, looking up at me briefly before sliding his jeans down to the floor where his shirt was already resting. “You know the rules, Mom. I need to be naked before you can give me my punishment. I know you always want to be the one to undress me; I was just trying to help out.”

“You see?” I asked, taking a step toward where he was standing in just his underwear. “That’s exactly what I’ve been talking about. You know I do the undressing for punishments, and here you are, undressing yourself. That’s the defiance I keep seeing in you, and it needs to stop, mister.”

“Okay, Mom. Sorry,” Brandon said apologetically. “You’re right. I should have waited for you to undress me. Do you want me to get redressed so you can do it?”

Finally, I thought to myself. He’s starting to learn his place. I shook my head, stepping up to him. “It’s fine,” I told him, letting my stern tone soften just a bit in hopes that he’d see that it pays to behave. “I’ll just finish from where you started.”

Bending down, I took hold of his boxers’ waistband and tugged them down. As I drew them to the floor, his semi-erect dick slipped out, nearly hitting me in the face. Part of me almost felt sorry for him. Teenage boys get erections so easily. Here he was, getting punished, and despite that, he’s still sporting a boner. I considered telling him not to worry about it, but I didn’t want to embarrass him. I might be a strict mom, but I’m not cruel.

“Okay,” I said, standing back up. “Now that we’re both naked, we should get on to your punishment. Which is..." I trailed off, trying to remember what punishment I usually issued to Brandon when we were both naked. For whatever reason, it wasn’t coming to me.

“Spanking, right?” Brandon asked, sounding as though he was genuinely trying to be helpful. I couldn’t help but let my lips curl into a smile. Maybe my boy was finally starting to come around.

“Yes, of course,” I said, suddenly remembering his usual punishment. “Why don’t you turn around and bend over, and I’ll—”

“But Mom,” Brandon said, cutting me off. “I’m supposed to be the one spanking you, remember? One spanking for every year you are old.”

“Oh, right,” I said, shaking my head. Seriously, how could I have forgotten something so obvious? “Yes, that’s right. Okay, son, where do you want me for this?”

“You should probably lean over the bed,” he offered. “I know how unbelievably aroused you get when you’re spanked, and I’d feel really bad if you fell and hurt yourself having an orgasm.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I replied, stepping to the bed and leaning over it. Even though it was embarrassing for my son to know about my spanking fetish, it's comforting to know that he still cares about me, even when he's receiving punishment. “Okay, Brandon. Go ahead.”

“Okay,” he said from behind me. “One!” As his hand met my ass with a resounding slap, I couldn’t help but feel a tingle of arousal course through my body. God, I love this punishment. Maybe it’s a bit harsh, forcing him to bring his own mother pleasure like this, but he really did need to learn his lesson.

“Two!” He cried, spanking me hard a second time. “Three! Four! Five!” By the time he reached six, my pussy was already a sopping wet mess. By eight, I was moaning with each slap. By eleven, I was grabbing at the bed as my moans escalated to wails of pleasure.

The thirteenth spank triggered my first orgasm. From there, it was like the orgasms just kept flowing. “Twenty-six!” Brandon said with a firm slap.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” I cried in response as another orgasm ravaged my body. “More, baby! Spank me some more!”

When he finally reached the thirty-ninth and final spanking, it was obvious that leaning over the bed was the right choice. My legs were like jelly. My ass burned in pleasure. I’d lost count of how many times I came. For a minute I just stayed there, reveling in my bliss. When I finally started trying to push myself up, Brandon reached out, helping me climb to my wobbly feet. When I turned to face him, he briefly looked me up and down before giving me a smile.

“You liked that,” he said with a grin.

“Duh,” I responded. “I know that was hard, but hopefully you learned your lesson.”

“Wait. You know my punishment isn’t over yet,” Brandon spoke up.

"Yes, exactly," I responded, shaking my head. That string of orgasms must have really thrown me for a loop. For a second, I really thought that we were done. “So I guess for the next step, we’ll—”

“Fuck,” Brandon added, cutting me off again. "We usually fuck after I give you spanks."

“Young man,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You really need to watch your language. In this house, we have sex after spankings. We don’t use the f-word.”

“Oh, right, Mom, sorry,” he replied. “I forgot that we don’t start talking dirty until we start having sex. It’s only after that point where we get really nasty with our language.”

“That’s right,” I said, moving past him toward his father’s nightstand and opening his top drawer. “Don’t you forget that, either.”

“Um, what are you doing?” He asked as I fished out the box I’d been looking for.

I responded by retrieving a condom from the container. "It's a risky time of the month for me, so we need to use protection."

“Brandon chuckled. “Geez, Mom, those spankings really did scramble your brains a bit. You’re trying to teach me responsibility, remember? That’s why we fuck, er, have sex, all the time without protection, especially when you’re fertile. You want me to get you pregnant so I can learn real responsibility by becoming a parent. You only wear condoms with Dad, because you’re done having his kids.”

As he spoke, I found myself looking at the condom in my hands, wondering what I was thinking. Of course Brandon was right. He’s eighteen. He spends most of his days playing video games and hanging out with friends. I was already married and pregnant with his older sister at nineteen. He has a lot of maturing to do in the near future if he hopes to be prepared for adulthood.

Slipping the condom back into the box, I turned toward Brandon and smiled. “So, you want to learn responsibility?” I stepped up to him and gave him a playful push backward onto the bed. “I can teach you responsibility, son.” With a wink, I continued, climbing into the bed and straddling him. Holding onto his hard cock, I pressed it up against my slit, grinding against him to lube it up with my juices. “And the best way to teach you that responsibility is for you to put a baby inside me.”

Rising up to line him up at my entrance, I let Brandon’s cock part my folds. I sank down onto him, engulfing him with a slight grunt. I know we fuck like this all the time, but for some reason, it felt so new and fresh. Almost as if I was taking him inside me for the first time. Putting the thought out of my mind, I started riding my son, letting him fill me again and again as I rode him.

“Oh, fuck, Mom!” Brandon groaned, reaching up to grab my tits. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Thanks, baby,” I replied, enjoying the feeling of his hands as I bounced on his shaft. “I love how your big cock feels in me.”

“Yeah,” he groaned, thrusting in rhythm with my riding. “You love my cock more than Dad’s. You love me more than Dad. That’s why you’re such a dirty slut for me all the time, and you always want me filling you up.”

Brandon flipped us over, repositioning himself so that he was on top of me, and I let out an affirming moan. He was so right, I thought, looking up into his blue eyes. I really did love him more than his father. Every time I saw him, all I could think about was letting him stuff my pussy. Brandon leaned down, pressing his lips to mine as he thrust into me. I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close as our tongues danced.

Brandon began to fuck me harder a few minutes later, and he began grunting and groaning more rapidly. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah, baby,” I moaned out. “Do it, fucking fill me up. Come inside me, sweetie. Breed your mother!”

With my words pushing him past his limit, Brandon slammed into me, burying his cock as deeply as he could as he unloaded. I shuddered as he filled me up, knowing that, especially today, the odds were good that he could be making me a mother once again. I reached up, pulling his head to mine, meeting him in a deep, sensual kiss.

For the rest of the day, I kept Brandon grounded to my room. I made sure he filled me up as many times as he could, giving us the best chances of showing him the responsibility of being a parent. Sometime around dinnertime, I was casually sucking his cock, getting him nice and hard so we could go at it again, when I heard the front door open, followed by voices. My eyes went wide, realizing that my husband and Kate must have gotten home. Brandon assured me that everything was fine and shouted that we were in my room.

I kept my face planted on Brandon’s cock as the unmistakable sounds of footsteps came down the hall. A moment later, I heard Brandon’s dad shouting, “What the fuck?!” as his sister gasped.

“Oh, calm down, you two,” Brandon responded. “You both know Mom’s my personal slut. You don’t mind letting me have Mom, Dad, especially considering how much you love fucking Kate. And seriously, Kate, wipe that disgusted look off your face. You’re the one who’s desperate to get Dad to knock you up. Now, if you two don’t mind, I’m going to bend Mom over and fuck her again. Why don’t you guys head down to Kate’s room and get busy trying to make a baby? Oh, and leave the door open, so we can all hear. Mom loves hearing the two of you fuck.”

With that, Brandon pulled my head off his cock and turned me around so he could fuck me. A few minutes later, as my son was sliding into me for the umpteenth time of the day, I heard one of my favorite noises—the sound of my daughter groaning as my husband plowed into her. As I moaned Brandon’s name and begged for more, I couldn’t help but be thankful. Sure, Brandon was a little bit of a jerk when he first got home, but at least he got his act together so we could both get what we really wanted all along.