Jon Snow Takes Westeros Or just its women
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Jon Bungle’s mom called and asked would he return home to live for the next month while his dad was away in Europe on tour as a guest lecturer on the art gallery circuit.
‘Mom no, I’ve comfortable in this apartment with two really nice guys.’
Matilda slipped into aggressive mode.
‘Did I think about my own comfort first after deciding to get pregnant again that led to your arrival, despite the harrowing experience I had in birthing Anna?’
‘What? That has nothing to do with me living here and you living at home alone despite dad pleading with you to accompany him.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘Understand what?’
‘Putting myself out to birth you and not wishing to travel around fucking Europe for a month and living out of suitcases.’
‘Mom nothing about what you are saying makes sense to me.’
‘I’m scared living by myself!’
Jon took a deep breath. His mom actually needed him. Wow.
‘Oh well that’s different. Now I see a real reason behind your plea. I’ll be home in about three days. I can write at home just as well as I can here, if not better. I’ll pay my rent in advance and get these two boofheads to sign an agreement they won’t sublease my room.’
‘That is lovely darling and thank you. I shall endow your financially for making this supreme gesture.’
‘Forget it mom. That turns this thing into a retrospective bribe whereas I would prefer you to accept I made the decision out of respect and love for my mother.’
‘Oh darling. You still manage to say just the sweetest things that no one else ever says to me.’
Christ who’d have a neurotic mother, Jon fumed as the call ended. His father had seized the chance to get away from her for a month to mess with women his way around Europe, leaving his son to be sucked back into the homely web. His sister ought to be home being a dutiful daughter instead of being abroad goodness knows where producing a travel film. Life was so fucking unfair.
Still the timing was good. He was still researching for his third novel following the success of this second book and had received a $25,000 advance from his publisher as a result of a bit of arm twisting and signing a 7-year contract tying him to Yeoman Sisters Publishing.
GEMMA
Not long after dawn next morning, Jon who was thirty-two and a former university tutor in Celtic History, bent the sexy third wife of the owner of his gym over her desk and, pulling her panties aside, pushed in.
‘I don’t like (puff) you leaving (puff, puff),’ Gemma gasped as his fat cock squeezed into her depths. ‘There’s a good chance (oooh) that (oooh) you’ll not return.’
‘Bullshit,’ Jon said and they bucked into it, he squeezing her fat thighs because her tits were too sensitive to squeeze, or so she claimed.
He was quite sure he would return but knew he wasn’t always right in his assumptions.
* * *
Jon’s mother greeted him. She carried even more weight than when he last saw her four months ago but he could cope with that, it was skinny women who put him off women.
‘God what size bra do you wear now?’
‘Say hi mother it is so lovely seeing you again and then I’ll answer that obnoxiously rude question.’
‘Hi mother it really is so lovely seeing you again.’
‘Forty-two, almost requiring size 44 inch.’
‘Jesus mom, just as well you are tall. With all this extra weight can dad still get it in?’
‘Don’t be so disgusting.’
‘Does Harry Walker still get it off with you?’
Matilda looked shocked. ‘How the hell do you know about Harry and me?’
Jon watched for his mom’s reaction, thinking this could be a great scene in his new novel. ‘Dad told me. He didn’t say he was speaking in confidence.’
‘Omigod,’ Matilda said. ‘When did he tell you?’
‘About five years ago.’
‘Omigod your father knows he’s living with an adulteress.’
‘Well mom it takes one to recognize one. You told me two years ago he was having it off with the Richard sisters.’
‘Omigod did I tell you that?’
‘Yes but you did tell me in confidence.’
‘Well who have you told?’
‘Only you and that was just now.’
‘Oh good boy. If you must know your father finds it best to have me over the dining table.’
‘Oh yuck. Please set my dinner place on the side away from that area.’
For years mother and son had chatted on amicably like this. Probably it was his mother’s lurid descriptions of her sexual escapades before and after marriage that propelled Jon into developing an interest in writing steamy romance stories that had sold well and convinced him to give up teaching to work fulltime writing his second novel. Sales of ‘Lust at the Stock Exchange’ had pushed him from virtual obscurity into eighteenth place in the list of his publisher’s top twenty authors.
As they were eating dinner Jon asked, ‘Where do you two actually do it?’
‘Where I sit actually. I just place a towel on the floor…’
‘Mom lay off the details, I’m eating. Um is dad any good?’
‘He’s up there at the top of all the guys I’ve ever had. Pass the gravy please darling.’
As they were clearing away after the meal Matilda said, ‘Oh I mentioned to Marlene Luther in the supermarket yesterday that you were coming home. She had asked about you. She wonders if you could call and assess a painting for her. Her mother died and she cleared away almost everything but kept this painting because she thought there was something about it.’
‘Would she know the difference between a print and a painting?’
‘Probably not but she said it was signed.’
‘What was the signature? Of course a print can show a signature.’
Matilda said she didn’t ask.
MARLENE
Late next morning Jon, who’d taken art history as an adjunct to his studies of European history at his father’s insistence for putting him through 4-year college, called on Mrs Luther. She didn’t answer the front door and he went around the house and found her dressed in a bikini watering a flower garden.
‘Hi Mrs Luther,’ Jon said, immediately noticing the attorney’s wife had practically no surplus fat over her curvaceous body. She was more than ten years younger than his mother so could be about forty-two or perhaps a little older.
‘Oh Jon darling, how lovely to see you again. Come give me a big fat kiss.’
John pecked her on the cheek and she frowned. Mrs Luther was secretary of the floral art society that his mom had presided over for almost fifteen years.
Should you be watering now with the heat rising. I understood it was best to water from sundown?’
‘I suppose you are right. Turn off the water please.’
‘Right now give me a proper kiss, on the lips. Don’t be so mean.’
It was a full on kiss and he felt her tongue pushing at his lips.
Jesus.
‘That was lovely. Come in a take a look at this painting.’
Jon following her inside, noticing the swaying hips and the two bits of butt cheeks exposed at the base of her bikini bottom.
His cock hardened. Yep if she continued to act sexy he’d gladly give her what she appeared to want. But the question was, did she really want it?
‘Place you hand over the signature Marlene.’
‘That’s the first time you’ve ever called me Marlene.’
‘Well until today I hadn’t realized you had such a superb body.’
‘Meaning?’ she glared.
‘Nothing except it’s the body of a young woman.’
She sucked in breath and shielded the signature from his gaze. Jon smiled, noticing her hand was shaking and yet being tall she hadn’t been required to stretch to reach the bottom of the wall hanging.
‘This is probably a local artist. As an assignment another student and I studied the work and salability/resale of thirty artists in the top bracket of artists living within 150 miles of here during the p
ast thirty years. It sounds onerous but wasn’t because there were only seventeen who qualified in the elite group. I think this could be one of them. I’m thinking T.B. Locke. Remove your hand sweetie.’
Sweetie glanced at Jon and removed her hand. ‘T. B. Locke,’ she whispered excitedly.
‘Yes but don’t get too excited. You can discuss the painting with Teresa, she has a website with email address. I’m picking this is an early work when she was still developing. My guess it might be valued at $250 to perhaps $350 bucks whereas she probably gets at a thousand bucks or more for her landscapes today. She is not a high producer.’
‘The value is not that important because I don’t aim to sell it. But I’ll read up on her. I was just interested in who the artist was because I think I know the location of this scene. It’s very much like a place I’ve hiked through a couple of times in the Whitestone Hills.’
‘It could well be. Well I must go.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know really.’
‘Stay for coffee. I’ll get dressed.’
‘Why.’
She flushed and said was practically nude. That only encouraged Jon to eye her and she boldly cupped her breasts. ‘Do you think these are too small for my height?
‘I’ll have to consider that. Show them to me.’
Marlene said cautiously, ‘Jon I’m married.’
‘So? I need you to remove your bra so I can answer your question.’
Marlene studied the floor while she removed her bra.
‘They flop a bit,’ she said, looking up at him.
‘Yes but very nicely. May I touch?’
She whispered yes and stood steady, showing no sign of panic.
Jon cupped and lifted them and with her eyes closed she sighed and said she liked him doing that and Jon knew Marlene had hoped this would happen.
Gently he leaned forward and kissed the puckered lips and just as gently Marlene pushed her groin into his. At that Jon had to assume Marlene Luther was not a first-time adulteress. Just a simple conformation would mean he had the green light. Jon reached down and cupped her pussy and she pushed hard into his hand.
They sank and she was pulling down his zip before they reached the carpet.
‘Oh Jon,’ she cried as if she’d found something that excited her when shopping. ‘It’s big.’
By then Jon was easing his second and third fingers into her and appreciated why being big was so welcomed by Mrs Luther.
Later covered in sweat and smeared with secretions Jon called his mom and said Mrs Luther had invited him to stay for lunch.
‘I know what you’re doing you naughty boy. Have fun.’
Jon took his mom to an early movie and then during dinner at her favorite restaurant she asked, ‘Do you see anything in a woman beyond her tits and pussy? He could always count on his mom initiating interesting conversation.
‘Whether or not you believe this mom I do focus on her brain. I like any woman I line up to have sex with to be articulate, knowledgeable and strong in meaningful and interesting conversation.’
‘And now you’ll explain it’s a disappointingly futile search?’
‘Not at all mother. They abound and that has led me to the understanding why women prefer the company of women over men except when they require someone to eat their cooking and do the basic checks on their car and keep it filled with gas.’
‘Oh you cute little devil. You knew that’s what I wanted to hear.’
‘You are my role model mother and almost everything I know about women, and that’s rather a lot for a male I believe, comes from years of your tutelage. Matilda Bungle you performed that part of your mothering role superbly and that’s the reason why I’m placed in this world today.’
Matilda glanced at her son as if checking for clues to his sincerity and appeared satisfied.
IRENE
A couple of days later Matilda called to Jon who was cleaning the tiles around the pool that her friend Amy Simpson was coming over with her daughter Irene who was home for a couple of days. Irene was keen to swim.
‘She can swim providing she doesn’t splash around where I’m working.’
‘Stop working please Jon and be hospitable to our visitor. She’s your age.’
‘Who Amy Simpson?’
His mom rarely replied to stupid retorts.
Jon put away the cleaning agents and pulled another lounger into the shade and lay down and then remembering Amy Simpson was a reasonably good-looking woman with a generous mouth the other lounger closer.
Fifteen minutes later he heard female voices and wished he was wearing his white Speedos instead of floppy black shorts so that Irene could assess his personality from his bulge or whatever information females gather when they eye a guy’s bulge.
The bevy of high-pitched voices came closer talking excitedly about the weather or perhaps the state of world economies, who knows?
He climbed to his feet and the chatter stopped.
Mrs Simpson and his mom were gazing at his crotch and abs while Miss Pretty focused on his thick crop of blond hair, er head hair.
His mom said he would remember Mrs Simpson and Jon said yeah he did. He remembered she played great tennis and had an athletic body and asked should he kiss her and the poor kiss-starved woman appeared ready to smother him. She said yes and he kissed her and ignored the statue beside her.
‘This is my daughter, er the mother of my two grandchildren, Irene.’
‘I’ll promise not to kidnap the kids,’ he joked and the women gasped.
‘Hi Irene. Beautiful day and the world economy is still in bad shape.’
That appeared to relax her although she moved partly behind her mother.
‘Ignore him Irene. My son loves teasing women but when your mother and I go inside he’ll more or less ape the usual male. He’s an author so does strive to be original in conversation. Joking about kidnapping was designed to put you on edge and thus eliminate the prospects of idle chatter.’
‘Mom said you are an authority on Gaelic history. Is that what you write about?’
‘No and actually I was a student of Celtic History.’
‘What from BC times or post-Roman times?’
That caught Jon’s attention. He said the studies had spanned from pre-BC times but had primarily focused on post-1900s and covering Celts in Brittany, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, the Isle of Man and Cornwall in England.
‘That’s still a massive study range,’ said the 30-year old math secondary school teacher who was on vacation. She now appeared to be edging closer to him.
His mom said, ‘Jon is author of ‘Passion at the Stock Exchange’.
‘The title actually is ‘Lust at the Stock Exchange’,’ Jon corrected.
‘Omigod I was at a dinner party where that novel was discussed,’ Irene said, stepping very close to Jon. ‘Until the arrival of your novel it appeared practically no one associated stock traders with sex.’
‘Well you two are on to a stimulating topic,’ Matilda said. ‘I’m taking Amy inside to catch up on things. Irene would like a swim Jon and refreshments.’
‘Oh right,’ said Jon.
As the women were walking away he said, ‘Will you swim nude?’
She giggled and said no, she was wearing a swimsuit beneath her top and shorts.
‘Then get your gear off and take this loafer. Beer or wine or a soda? They are in this cooler behind my loafer.’
‘I’d like a beer please,’ Irene said, removing her top and adjusting the top of her swimsuit.
‘I won’t mind if they hang out a bit.’
Irene smiled, stepping out of her shorts. ‘Are you sure? Some men appear scared by big boobs like mine?’
‘No you have great handfuls.’
She looked pleased. ‘Oh god, you’re not afraid to speak to a woman are you?’
‘No there’s nothing scary about tit and cunt. Half the population has them.’
Blushing a little, Irene giggled and said quite right. ‘Mom warned me you were a little unusual and so I’m not surprised you are upfront like this. I’ve always
thought your mom was my mom’s most interesting friend. I can see where you get it from.’
‘That’s interesting you should say that. For the first time I acknowledged that very thing to mom only a couple of days ago. She seemed pleased I’d said that. You don’t mind having large tits do you?’
‘Not in principle because I believe what I have is what I’ve got, if you know what I mean. But smaller ones would have been more convenient and comfortable. Do you ever call them breasts?’
‘Not really.’
‘Oh.’
‘Flip them out. I’d like to see them please.’
‘Jon,’ Irene said nervously, looking towards the house.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I’m going into the pool.’
Jon put his bottle of beer and Irene’s glass of beer on the pool coping and jumped in.
He reached for her shoulder straps.
‘Okay.’
‘Yes but let me do it.’
The soft orbs spilt out on to his hands.
‘I’ve never understood why men make such a thing about women’s breasts.’
‘They are a physical marker, to focus us on sex. You must understand a guy like a woman feels desire but he gets a real boost when he sees tits.’
‘So you are now focusing on sex?’
‘Feel me. I’m getting hard.’
She reached down and said, ‘God there’s enough of it.’
‘Steer it into you.’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
Jon read her expression as a maybe. Whatever, it had to be her decision.
He kicked off his swim shorts and began licking her tits, they both watching her nipples grow into stubs.
They began kissing. She resisted penetration of his tongue and just as he was thinking of backing off and having a beer, she pushed into his mouth and moaning reached down and began jerking him.
Jon remained patient, something he’d been told many times by women that guys when at this stage were no good at doing.
He began thinking about reaching for his beer and at that very moment she began pushing his dick past the edge of her swimsuit and into her pussy. It felt slippery so she was lubed.
‘Oooh it’s fat.’
‘Yeah but lovely and firm when you need that feeling.’
‘Will I?’
‘It’s over to you baby.’
He knew she was looking over his shoulder at the kitchen window and was pleased when she didn’t tense or panic. For once he was relieved his mom was good at gossiping.
‘I should have made you put on a condom.’
‘Too late,’ he soothed. ‘Spread your feet.’
She spread them and he slipped all the way in, she hissing and pulling at his butt to ensure he was fully in.
‘You’re the biggest I’ve had.’
‘Thanks. You’re not the widest I’ve ever had.’
‘Thanks,’ she giggled. ‘That’s a real compliment.’
They banged away, stirring the water and when she felt him thickening she said, ‘Come in me and then pull out and stay still. I want to see the sperm float to the surface.’
‘Irene are you all right?’ called her mom from the terrace.
Irene called yes mom and then froze and they heard her mom say rather too loudly, ‘That over-sexed bitch is seducing your son.’
‘Oh dear I don’t believe Jon gets a lot of sex?’ lied his mom, as Irene pulled up the top of her swimsuit while Jon grunted and heaved, shooting streams of semen into her. They didn’t get to see whether the sperm floated to the surface or remained in suspension.
‘Come for a swim mom,’ Irene said, pulling away from Jon and brushing back her hair. ‘The water’s great.’
‘No thanks dear. Enjoy yourself. The sun is too hot for us out here.’
Irene said looking greatly concerned, ‘With that sperm and my leakage you’ll have to empty the pool.’
‘Hell no. What we’ve excreted wouldn’t fill an eggcup. The pool holds approximately 24,000 gallons of water. Shall we fuck some more?’
‘Let’s grab another beer and go into the dressing room.’
‘You’re a good fuck Irene. Is that the first time for adultery?’
‘No and I bet it’s nowhere near the first time for you. Come let’s fuck while I’m still in the mood.’
During dinner that evening Matilda said, ‘Were you two really having sex in the pool.’
‘Yes mom.’
‘We couldn’t be sure. You were blocking most of our view of Irene.’
‘That’s an advantage of having a back. She’s keen to come again tomorrow mom. If her mom accompanies her could you take Mrs Simpson shopping for a couple of hours?’
‘Yes darling. A mother mustn’t stand in the way of her son wanting sex.’
Jon eyed his mom suspiciously but she looked at him calmly and said he hadn’t commented on the meat.
‘It’s great mom. Just how I like it. You have always been a great cook.’
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