The wind howled outside as I stood on the porch of my older brother’s house, the heavy brass knocker cold in my hand. I let it fall against the thick oak door, the dull thud echoing in the stillness of the winter night. A faint glow appeared in the hallway, and I saw the outline of a man approaching. My heart raced, though I couldn’t say why. I wasn’t used to asking Kenneth for favors, but family steps up when you’re desperate, don’t they?
Kenneth opened the door, his face lighting up with a mix of surprise and warmth. “Clara, what a surprise! Come in, get out of the cold.” He took my coat and led me to what he called his library, a cozy room lined with books and warmed by a crackling fire. He poured us each a glass of brandy, the amber liquid catching the firelight. I took a large gulp, hoping it would steady my nerves. Kenneth raised an eyebrow, cradling his glass with care, warming it in his hands. I felt a flush of embarrassment—knowing him, this was no ordinary brandy.
“Nice, isn’t it?” I mumbled, gesturing to the glass and the fire, trying to fill the silence.
“It is,” he replied, swirling the liquid. “A gift from the head of the Bordeaux institute. Nearly a century old.”
I nearly choked. Kenneth wasn’t rich, but everything he owned was exquisite, chosen with a scholar’s taste. I vowed to savor the next sip, to show him I appreciated it.
He leaned back, studying me. “Clara, you’re always welcome here, but something’s eating at you. The way you’re downing that cognac tells me you need to talk. What’s going on?”
I sighed, the weight of my purpose pressing down. “I’m sorry, Ken. I know you’re swamped with your book, lectures, research… but I need your help. It’s Jeff. He’s struggling in school. Could you tutor him?”
Kenneth didn’t answer right away. He rose, tossed another log on the fire, and adjusted it with the poker, the flames casting shadows across his face. He returned to his chair, settling in before speaking. “I could, but Jeff doesn’t need tutoring. He’s brilliant, Clara.”
I frowned. “Brilliant or not, his grades are tanking. If he doesn’t turn it around, he’ll have to repeat the year.”
Kenneth stared into the fire, silent for a long moment. “I almost flunked once, you know,” he said finally.
I blinked, stunned. “You? But you were always top of your class!”
“Not always.” He took a slow sip of brandy. “When I was Jeff’s age, my grades hit rock bottom. I only pulled through because of Mom’s… unconventional methods.”
I was floored. In my mind, Kenneth had always been the golden child, graduating with honors and fielding offers from Ivy League schools. How could he have nearly failed? And what had our mother done to fix it? Mom was in a care home now, lost to Alzheimer’s, unable to recognize us. Whatever she’d done for Kenneth, she couldn’t do for Jeff. It was up to me.
“What did she do?” I asked, leaning forward.
Kenneth met my gaze, his expression grave. “Are you sure you want to know?”
An hour later, I was driving home through a snow-dusted countryside, Kenneth’s words replaying in my mind. His question—Are you sure you want to know?—rang in my ears. I’d insisted, but now I was reeling.
“You remember how Mom was, a bit of a free spirit?” he’d begun. “A product of the sixties, all about peace, love, and breaking norms.”
“A hippie,” I’d said, half-smiling.
“If you like.” He’d chuckled, then grew serious. “She believed there was one thing that could motivate a teenage boy to do anything.”
I’d stared, clueless, until he prompted me with a knowing look. “Come on, Clara, don’t play innocent.”
“Sex?” I’d stammered, feeling my face heat up.
He’d nodded, like I’d solved a puzzle. “Not exactly a hooker, though,” he’d clarified, refilling my glass. “She came to my room one night with this… plan. An A-B-C reward system.”
The plan was outrageous, scandalous even. But it had worked. Kenneth had gone from failing to acing his classes, driven by rewards that pushed every boundary of propriety. As I drove, I wrestled with the idea. Jeff was on the brink of failing, and I’d tried everything—tutors, punishments, new schools. Nothing had worked. Could I do what Mom had done? Could I use that to motivate my son?
The thought made my stomach churn, but I couldn’t deny a flicker of something else—something shameful. Jeff was my son, but he was also a young man, handsome in a way that reminded me of his father. I’d caught myself noticing him, feeling things a mother shouldn’t. If I had a reason, a purpose… could I cross that line?
By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was trembling, but I’d made up my mind. I’d try it. I had to.
Weeks later, I sat at the kitchen table, Jeff’s latest report card in front of me. It was a disaster, all D’s and F’s, except for a lone B in PE. My resolve wavered, but I heard his footsteps on the stairs. It was now or never.
“Sit down, Jeff,” I said, aiming for stern but not terrifying.
His eyes flicked to the report card, then to me, then to the empty chair. He sat, silent, knowing what was coming.
“I’ve tried everything—helping you, coaching, punishing, switching schools, summer classes. You’re smarter than this, and we’re going to prove it.”
He shrugged, his usual nonchalance infuriating me.
“There’s one last thing I want to try. Are you interested?”
I unbuttoned the top of my blouse, revealing a hint of cleavage. Jeff’s eyes locked onto it, his indifference vanishing.
“On your next report card,” I said, taking a deep breath, “if you get a C, you’ll get to see me naked.”
His eyes widened.
“A B, and I’ll… give you a blowjob.”
His jaw dropped.
“And an A… we’ll go all the way.”
He stared, speechless, processing the offer. Then a sly grin spread across his face. “What do I get for an F?” he asked, holding up a crumpled geography test.
I laughed, relieved he could joke. “An F means you can go fuck yourself.” I buttoned my blouse, leaving one undone as a tease. “Now, get upstairs and start your homework. I’ll make dinner.”
That night, I kept the pressure on, leaning into my role. I wore a tight top, let my hips sway as I moved, licked my lips when he looked. After dinner, I caught him trying to hide the bulge in his pants as he fled to his room—probably to relieve the tension I’d built. Over the next weeks, I dialed it up, dressing provocatively, brushing against him “accidentally.” His grades began to shift. F’s became D’s, then C’s. When his next report card came, there were three C’s, not a single F.
It was time to deliver.
“Three C’s,” I said, standing in the kitchen, my voice steady despite the butterflies. “Ready to see me?”
He nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”
“Now?”
Another nod.
I pushed my chair back, giving him a clear view. “You earned it, and I’m proud of you. Enjoy the show.”
I’d anticipated this moment, choosing a black lace bra and matching thong that left little to the imagination. As I unbuttoned my blouse, Jeff’s gasp told me he noticed the sheer fabric barely concealing my nipples. The blouse fell to the floor. I stood, unbuttoning my jeans slowly, revealing the thong’s tiny triangle that did nothing to hide my waxed mound. Turning, I slid the jeans down, bending slightly to show off my ass, the thong’s strings framing it. The fabric was soaked, and I knew he could tell.
I faced him again, peeling off the bra’s straps, unclasping it to reveal my firm breasts. His eyes were glued to me, his breathing heavy. Hooking my thumbs into the thong, I slid it down, baring my swollen, glistening pussy. I turned, swaying my hips, then sat, lifting one leg to roll off a silk stocking, angling myself to keep my sex just out of view. The second stocking came off with my legs spread, giving him a full view of my arousal.
A groan escaped him, and a dark spot bloomed on his pants. Embarrassed, he bolted to his room. I smiled, proud I’d pushed him over the edge. Mom’s plan was working.
Later, as I cooked dinner in nothing but heels and a tiny apron, Jeff returned, his eyes burning into me. I dropped utensils repeatedly, bending over each time, feeling his gaze. At dinner, he “dropped” his fork three times, lingering under the table to stare at my spread legs. We both knew the game, and we reveled in it.
After dinner, I pressed my naked body against him, whispering, “Put the dishes in the washer while I go to the living room.” He obeyed, dazed. I lounged on the couch, still naked, posed to entice. Jeff sat opposite me, his erection obvious in his track pants, no longer hiding it. I didn’t hide either, my pussy swollen and wet.
At bedtime, I pulled him close, my breasts against his chest, my hips grinding against his crotch. He came again, groaning, and I kissed him, tasting the tiny bit of his semen that had seeped through. “Sweet dreams,” I whispered, licking my finger clean.
Weeks passed, and Jeff’s grades climbed. One night, craving release, I lay on the couch, touching myself while he watched. I spread my legs, showing him everything, fingering myself as he stroked his cock. We came together, his sperm splattering his chest, my body shaking with bliss. I kissed his sticky fingers, savoring his taste, and went to bed, buzzing with desire.
Then came the day he showed me his report card with a B in history. My heart raced. “You know what this means?” I teased.
He blushed. “You’ll… suck my…”
“Say it,” I urged.
“Suck my cock, Mom,” he said, voice high, cheeks red.
“I’d love to,” I replied, kissing him. “After dinner.”
Dinner was a blur, dishes done in record time. I sent him to shower, then joined him, naked. I lathered his body, my hands circling closer to his cock. Trembling, I grabbed it, stroking the hard shaft. His breathing quickened, and I stopped, not wanting him to cum yet.
“Turn around,” I said, washing his back, then guiding him under the water. I knelt, his cock inches from my lips. I kissed the tip, licked the shaft, and took him into my mouth. He groaned, hands in my hair, as I sucked, deep-throating him. His orgasm hit fast, his sperm flooding my mouth. I swallowed every drop, savoring the taste. We kissed, lovers now, under the cooling water.
That night, I sucked him twice more. Over the next months, blowjobs became daily, sometimes more. My body ached for more, but I held firm, waiting for an A. I started the pill, ready for when the time came. My vibrator couldn’t satisfy me, and I resisted the urge to find a stranger. Jeff deserved my focus.
Finally, the day arrived. Jeff handed me his report card, pointing to an A in math. My pussy tingled as I saw it. I threw myself into his arms, kissing him wildly. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I whispered, pulling him to my bedroom.
Clothes flew off as we stumbled upstairs. I pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, guiding his cock to my entrance. I sank onto him, groaning as he filled me completely. His hands gripped my hips, and we found a rhythm, fucking with a year’s worth of pent-up desire. He came quickly, his sperm flooding my pussy, and I rolled off, kissing him softly.
Minutes later, he was hard again. I rolled onto my back, guiding him inside me. He fucked me powerfully, playing with my breasts as my orgasm built. I came hard, screaming, my body shaking. He kept going, flipping me onto my knees to take me from behind. His cock hit deeper, stretching me, and I came again, biting the pillow. He followed, filling me with more sperm, collapsing onto me, spent.
We lay together, his semen trickling out, my body sated. People would judge me, lock me away, but I knew I’d done what was right for Jeff. He snored softly, exhausted from studying and loving me. I drifted off, content.
Morning came too soon. Jeff’s cock was hard again, and I stroked it gently, waking him. He kissed me, but I pulled back. “Get up, it’s time for school.”
“Do I have to?” he whined.
“Jeff, you don’t want your grades to slip, do you?” I said, smiling.
He groaned but obeyed, and I watched him go, knowing we’d both won.