Clark woke up in a haze. Heavy eyelids clamped themselves shut from a
face-full of intensely sharp golden rays. The light blasting through his
bedroom window reminded him that it was Friday, and a day off for the
students at Smallville High. The fifteen-year old (though he looked much
older) was lying on his stomach on the bed, covered in a bundle of blue
sheets and a red comforter. He groaned and shifted to the left, readying
himself to roll off of the bed. A twinge of an unfamiliar feeling ran
through his stomach as the bedsheets rubbed against him, stirring up the
blood in his veins.
His eyes popped wide open in surprise, and he looked down beneath the covers.
He had an erection! A large one at that; his red-white poka dot boxers had
split down the middle, fabric torn to make room for his large, uppity dick.
The skin was stretched farther than he could have ever thought possible, and
it was so long he was bewildered as to why he didn't notice the head had been
stuck against his navel while he slept.
What was he to do? He had had erections before, but never like this. Only
half-hearted ones he'd gotten in class while staring at (or thinking about)
Lana Lang. He'd also never masturbated before, even after he'd stumbled upon
a collection of 'Ebony Princess' magazines at his friend Pete's house. And he
certainly wouldn't have jacked off after discovering a stack of his mother's
'Playgirl' magazines in his parents' bedroom. He'd found them behind a fake
panel of wood while trying out his X-Ray vision a couple of months ago. Oddly
enough, his mother had hidden the magazines in his father's closet, and a lot
of the pages were stuck together.
Out of pure curiosity, Clark pushed his dick against the bed again. He
gasped. The sensations were growing stronger! Rolling over in the bed and
throwing the comforter and sheets aside, Clark tentatively wrapped his
fingers around the middle of his cock, then dragged them down to the base.
"Ah!" His jaw dropped at the feeling. Why had he woken up like this?
It didn't matter. He was enjoying himself much too immensely to care.
He stroked himself faster, spreading his legs farther apart and enjoying the
taut pressure in his stomach, the stimulation of a new experience. The head
of his cock was turning color to a purple hue now, and Clark could feel
something rising up from within him. Something massive.
He cringed at the overflow of whatever this was, and jerked his hand faster.
His prick responded, growing larger and more uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if
he could take much more of this.
* * *
Martha Kent flipped the last pancake from the frying pan into a small saucer,
piled high with the fluffy gold flapjacks. Jon was going to be back from
early-morning field-work in a few minutes, and she wanted everything to be
ready. Including having their son off to school, and actually taking the bus
this time. She made sure her red cotton bathrobe was tight around her waist
before she ran up the steps to kick him out of bed.
She stopped halfway.
Something was wrong. She could hear, from the bedroom a few feet away, deep
moaning. Gosh, Clark must be in a great deal of pain. She listened closer.
A deep creaking, like the bed was shaking. A quick, steady rhythm of moaning.
The occasional whispered word, too soft for her to hear. She sighed, wishing
Clark was with her to use his super-hearing to tell what he was saying.
Suddenly she realized what must be going on; a robber had snuck into the
boy's room, looking for something to steal when Clark surprised him/her,
valiantly trying to save the day. Only the robber must've had some of those
rocks that made Clark weak (what were they, Clitabite?), and was now on top
of him in the bed, rocking it and forcing Clark to look at and feel them.
That mean, mean man/woman!
She ran down the stairs, grabbed the empty frying pan from off the stove and
ran back up the steps, not taking notice of her robe coming undone. The knot
swished with her quickly swaying thighs, and her breasts began to peak out
from underneath the cloth.
Martha dove up the stairs, towards her son's room, swearing that she was
going to give that robber a piece of her mind before she called the police.
* * *
Clark had to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. Suddenly
something started to rush through his cock, and Clark pushed his back against
the left side of the bed, one leg slipping off onto the floor.
As the head of his sweat-covered gland expanded to the size of a baseball,
his bedroom door burst open and his mother rushed inside. She held a frying
pan high in the air. Her robe was completely undone, the ends hanging to
either side.
They stayed still for half a second, not breathing. Then his cock shot out a
fantastic stream of white spunk, a thick ropey jet which flew through the air
for what felt like five seconds before it splashed onto his mother's bare
midrift. The cum filled her belly button and ran along her waist, covering it
like a belt of love-juice.
Realizing that her son has no longer looking at her, but rather her dark-red
bush, Martha instinctively tried to cover herself with her robe.
But that's when the real stream hit her.
Clark was no longer in control of himself. His rock-hard dick had taken over,
and he shafted it with his hand as the pleasure tripled in sensation, and in
the force of the stream. It punched Martha in the gut, knocking the wind out
of her.
She fell to her knees, watching in horror as her young boy's sperm covered
her chest, sliming across her large breasts and the skin in between, the
force of which made her tits perk up and tingle. She felt a wetness forming
between her legs. She had to stop this before-
Clark's cock sprang further up.
The cum-stream splattered Martha's face. Sloppy currents of the white cream
blasted her nose, running up her nostril and forcing her to suck down the
juice before she couldn't breath. More of it landed on her cheeks, and she
suddenly felt the rush of sperm jet into her mouth. She gulped down as much
as she could, swallowing the white spunk and trying to think of what to do.
It tasted so good, but this was so wrong! Her tongue lolled and swam through
the goo coating her throat and stomach.
When she couldn't take anymore in her mouth, drenched in sperm with hung down
in thick rivulets from her full lips, she recieved another load in her eyes.
She squeezed them shut as she felt the warm liquid race on her eyelids,
dousing her forehead and running through her hair. Her face was completely
covered in her son's hot cock-nectar.
Martha suddenly felt a pang of conscience and brought down the frying pan she
still held in the air. She put it over her face as protection.
Clark's dick redoubled its efforts and released the final mammoth shot. It
slammed into the frying pan full force, which subsuquently smashed into
Martha with a resounding CLANG!; she fell to the floor and didn't move.
The young Kent saw through a cloud of pleasure what his dick had done and
jumped out of bed, forgetting his nudity and rushing to his mother's side.
Sifting two fingers through his own cum, he checked her pulse.
She was still alive, only knocked unconscious. He tried not to notice how hot
she looked covered in his sperm. His mother's red hair was darkened by the
gunk seeping into it, and her face was lost under the layers of spunk. Clark
didn't want her to suffocate, so her dug through the cum until he reached her
lips, then pried them open.
His dick was surprisingly rock hard and rearing for another round, but Clark
wasn't sure what to do about his mother. She still wasn't breathing. In a
short while her heart was going to stop for sure.
`Hmm, maybe if she orgasmed, the shock would wake her up!'
His eyes traveled down to Martha's red bush. He didn't see the small sliver
of cum detaching itself from the mass on her face and slide away.
