SERVICE WITH A SMILE_(0)

SERVICE WITH A SMILE
How Sheila learned to grin and bare it!

Inspired by an il-lust-ration from Pandora's Box



By Oediplex 8==3~

[Author's note: It works this way. I take a drawing PB has done, and I tell the story of that il-lust-ration. I try to make the details fit the picture, and yet tell what the people in the art are experiencing in a way that titillates, stimulates, and consummates the reader/viewer.]

The green plush couch was a piece of heaven to Sheila. After a day on her feet, on high heels, to plunk her tired ass down on the sofa was paradise. How her calves ached, her arches cramped, her thighs were sore from the trotting back and forth behind the airline ticket counter. She was the day-shift (read day-shit) manager, the effective complaint department when customers had problems. When they had difficulties they were not at their best and some were at their worst. Sheila had to be many places at once (sometimes twice or more) to handle the mix-ups and complaints and irate people.

No wonder her legs had weary muscles. Worse was the constant work of smiling and being soothing to patrons. It was exhausting and made her brain drained too, and there wasn't a smile left in her. Not even for her cheerful boy Shawn, the skinny redheaded who always was trying to raise her spirits. He was there for her whenever she got home from her daily grind, especially if she had to stay late. But the finest smile she could manage was wan and weak. Her son shared the fiery mane and pale complexion and slender build of his mom, but had yet at his tender age to lose his happy-go-lucky disposition.

Sheila once had been so too, but this job depleted the spirit, washed the vitality right out of her. By the end of the dragging hours, cleaning up messes and making others satisfied, she was deflated, like an old party balloon. This job sucked and she had not enough energy to spare her kid a grin, just a grimace, when she got off. Not even enough self 'battery-juice' to get off, when she was off by herself with a vibrator and fresh 'bunny-batteries' aplenty in the toy. She was single again, for sometime now, kicking the bum out awhile back. Now her only release sexually was masturbation, and she didn't even have the 'umph' to bother. That's how bad things were.

But she had no idea how to get out of this rut. More over, she was afraid that she could be demoted, as her temper got short and she even snapped at some rather rude passengers today. She lay her head back on the cool cushion of the davenport and extended out her long limbs. Her dark gray hose ended in black heels on her feet, and descended from the royal blue uniform she wore. A one piece smock that buttoned up the front and showed off her shapely gams. But behind the counter there was little that could be seen.

Except for her beautiful face. Framed in a glowing carrot-top mane and highlighted with ruby lipstick, her gorgeous visage had turned many a blustery male 'insaner complainer' into a compliant client. But if she couldn't smile; by late in the day, as the shift was coming to a close, even her expression of confidence and patience was worn thin too. When it wore off, shit hit the turbo-prop. So she was inclined to just plop down and poop-out when she got in. 'Service with a smile', was the company motto. But it was getting harder to live up to that everyday.

Her eyes were closed as she lounged on the comfortable furniture. Then she felt her foot being taken hold of, the heel-from-hell being slipped off, then the other. She didn't open her eyes. Sweet attentive Shawn was starting a ritual he had begun lately, to take off her shoes and rub her tired toes and massage her arches and sooth the Achilles' tendon. This was really appreciated. And he was expanding his services, now he was bringing a glass of wine for her to sip. She glanced at the end table, yep, next to the lamp a tumbler of her favorite rose'.

Maybe she should see if he wanted to become a stew, an air-host steward. He had a winning personality, he could do worse. But she didn't want him to grow up too fast. All too soon he would be old enough to be out on his own, then, if he wanted to fly away and see the world, he could do that. As she had in her younger days, single and not having to raise a youngster alone. Now her personal masseur moved to her calves. She didn't want to have her nylons snagged accidentally, so she reached under her dress and caught the back of her panty-hose and lifted her bottom to shove them down.

She realized that today, she had let the hem of her uniform hike a bit too high and that there was nothing covering her crotch otherwise. From his angle at her feet, her boy could see up her dress if he was looking. He was. What did she expect from him? He was at that age where his shyness around women was gone, but his tact and sense of a maid's modesty had not quite matured. So of course he looked. What he saw was his mother's bare beaver. Could you call it a beaver if it was shaved? The crotch shot was of the naked labia, a flash of flesh that flew by in seconds, but was a moment suspended in time for the pair. Then the hosiery was off and they were back to as before.

'Bare', the word turned over in her mind, as Shawn continued his kneading of her sore muscles. Bare bottom, naked butt, nude pud, pussy in the raw; memories of dirty days when she had walked around without panties on under her dress. That was such a turn-on for her, though she hadn't done it in some time. It got her horny, and then she'd fucked her boyfriend's brains out that night. And every night, because every day she'd go to work without scanties. In fact, that was how Shawn was produced. Then she married the jerk and he turned into Mr. Dud, couldn't keep a job and drank. Got ugly when liquored up, and she was afraid for herself and her child's safety, so good-bye to not-so-nice guy.

Sheila murmured her approval of her son's move to the back of her knees, a stress point to be sure. Her legs spread slightly to let her attendant get closer to do the vital manipulation of her joints. She unbuttoned the top of the dress to be more comfortable, the slip and bra nothing new to the eyes of the teen. Sheila had a sip of the delicious wine. Her body was unwinding, her head was feeling better, her legs felt - - her legs felt her son's hands move to her thighs. That was nice, maybe too nice, because it caused naughty reactions to be started further up the juncture and that was not good, because nothing could be done about that itch.

But she was too tired to protest something that felt that nice, that good, that erotic . . erotic? Did she just think that her son's touch was erotic? Well, so what if it was, he's her son, he couldn't have meant anything by it. Could he? Did it mean something to her, when she had accidentally brushed her fingers over Shawn's erection. When she went to wake him one day, she inadvertently put her hand down, meaning to reach his far hip, but came up short. However, her sleepy-headed son was up and lengthy in a more specific way and her grip might have, sort of, did - went on the long lump under the sheet. That his reaction to what was happening was of a positive nature was visually in evidence, both physically with his penis swelling, and from his startled, but pleased look. Each were obvious give-aways to his happy surprise.

But then the truth be told, if she was honest with herself, she had 'accidentally-on-purpose' had the shortfall that resulted in a handful. Not only that, she didn't regret doing it either! But, consider: what if Shawn thought that her groping his groin was a come-on. Was he working his way up her skirt with nefarious and incestuous intentions, honorable or not, most certainly horny! And come to think of it, why didn't that thought upset her? Instead it made her sort of eager for a bumping together of bodies, that might just be 'accidentally-on-purpose' by either one of them!

Sheila's thoughts were like a microphone echoing in her head. 'OH! MY! GOD! - OMG! I've got a thing for my son! Does he have a thing for me? Is that why his hands are so high on my thigh? That touching is getting to me! Oh, what am I going to do now? I'm being seduced by my own son, but I'm loving it! I'm hoping that his fingers will find their way further up my legs. How much further? The same as your father did, all the way – ALL the way! I'm naughty, maybe nasty for desiring my only child, but he started it, he's had the hots for me for a while.'

'Now he's touching the top inch of my thigh. I can feel the heat from his fingers on my labia; what's he gonna do next?!' Sheila was petrified with a combination of hope and dread. She waited to see what his bold move was going to be, for he could go no further than that, and not be taking more than simply liberties with his mom. Yet those freedoms would she gladly give, should he just be so polite to his mother, as to ask nicely and say please. Just like she taught him. You should always be on your most gentlemanly proper manners, especially if you're going to be fucking a lady. More so, if she's your momma!

'OH! YES!! THERE!!!' He was touching her clit. The transition had gone so rapidly that she was nearly caught off guard. But really, she'd let down her guard and allowed things to go forward. He knew his stuff as he applied the gentle caresses. It had been too long in between climaxes, not to hold out anymore. She offered an orgasm as her acknowledgment that this was now mutual lust. He had played her like it was making music, an instrument plucked and strummed, and not to mention thumbed. Woman as guitar, play me, if I'm in tune, we'll have harmony when we do the horizontal mambo. Her thoughts had a wild imagery as her paroxysm paraded through her whole being. She had cum.

'WELL! THAT relieved the stress!' Sheila recovered a bit, both her equilibrium and her libido, as she realized that she had not made love to her son. But he had nicely diddled her off, expertly. Suddenly she was smiling, so was Shawn, the little scamp. He had been gaining her confidence. Yet, letting her bide her time, until she to started to think about the possibilities between the two of them. Then, when she was particularly vulnerable, to place his hands higher and higher and as high as she would let him. She, by the time that his hands were slinking up the last millimeters of thigh-next-to-labia, was now a slave to the craving for contact between mother and son.

Contact of the naughtiest sort, of the nastiest kind; incest of parent-child. But he was plenty adult in what he had done to her nubbin of fun. Maybe that's why sex was so good after work when she was younger, working as a stew. It relieved tension. That was the excuse the airline Captains used as a proposition to get into a cute stew's pants. Of course if she weren't wearing any . . . they invented the mile high club for gals just like her. Sometimes things got tense early, and things had to be checked in the hole, the cargo hole; it took an officer and a stew both, to handle that ass-signment.

It's not as if Sheila hadn't ever been naughty, or nasty even, in her life; but just now she was, if not rejuvenated, reminded of younger days and looser ways. Also, she felt invigorated enough to give a big smile to Shawn, who was wearing his shit-eating grin again. “Service with a smile” he quoted her the company motto and now adopted as his own for making his mom happy. He was confident that he could make her smile everyday, if she would allow him to continue the relaxing massages. Then perhaps she might begin to reciprocate a little eventually. At least that's what he hoped. Nothing ventured . . .

There was more than just a little ground gained in the conquest of mother by son. But she called it a day. If she could stop it now, here at this point, not crossing the line any further – the line HAD been crossed, that was for sure! But if she could maintain the BIG boundry, avoid the consanguine part, the most serious sin in incest-ness; then . . . who was she kidding? As if she could hold back the tides, take back that tidal wave of lust that hit them both, with that intimate act of making her cum. Wait a minute! She had cum! She had a very good cum indeed! Not to lose sight of that victory. Too long since last time, too long!

The next day she found she had a bigger smile early and it lasted most of the day. She even had some left over for Shawn. She figured, if they couldn't see behind the counter, they certainly couldn't know she wasn't wearing any panties. The garter belt and dark hose and black slip were all that she had on under the uniform below the waist. It made her smile, to be a little naughty through whole the day, like she used to be, back when she flew. It also made her think about what might happen when she got home that evening. She wouldn't mind a another orgasm, if the rubbing got erotic. Erotic touching by her son! She wouldn't object, perhaps she might reciprocate?

When she got home, Shawn had a grin that just wouldn't quit either. She knew it was from seeing her pussy yesterday and from what he had done, making her cum; as well as welcoming her home today. Anticipating possibly another floor show, or even perhaps a repeat (if not an advance) on the mother's-massage plus intimate-encounter? At least that's what he was wishing for, it was obvious, his manner a give-away to his yearnings. Nor were his hopes in vain! Sheila was in a much better mood that evening, and her internal 'bunny-batteries' were charged and ready to drum, or was it bang?

Shela reclined on the divan like a diva awaiting a rendezvous, as indeed she was – awaiting an assignation, with her son. Shawn was there at the door to greet her, and settled her on the sofa while he went for the wine. She managed to sip most of the rose', while he was working on her feet and calves, until he got to the ticklish parts. Then the pieces that were erogenous were certainly next. She made sure the glass was put down safely, as what was going to happen in the cumming moments was unlikely to be quiet. Things might get shaky, like the butterflies in her tummy, which were fluttery.

It had been something to look forward to, all day, someone to come home to. Some body to have and to hold, to make you cum is a sweet delight, a well deserved treat at the end of the day. Don't they train dogs that way? Give them a treat as a reward for doing well? Well, she had come thru customer hell to be here, here on the other side; and now she was willing 'to cum thru for her son' if that was what he wanted. She had no doubts that it was. Her top was open and her bra loosened, Her skirt was high. The panties were off, they had never been on the whole day. Shawn began his massage.

His fingers twiddled their way higher on her leg, running an inside track up her thighs. As his fingers reached the point of no return, they disappeared, leaving her momentarily confused. Then she gasped her understanding when they were replaced by a pair of lips that began to nibble at her petals. She literally whooped at the delectable joy of cunnilingus; for that, it had been an even longer stretch. Now Sheila reveled in the head her off-spring had sprung upon her. Her insides squirmed with delicious feelings of longings, lost in a moment of desire, without a worry if it was wrong or right, just the overwhelming sense of need.

She needed her son. His penis inside her vagina, his cock in her cunt, his member in her membranes, his dick in her pussy. Sheila needed Shawn to fuck her; that was the short and simple truth, but to last a long time, and not so simple - try a lot of positions! But at the moment he had her attention with his tongue in her twat. She wasn't going to be slow to arrive at her peak today either. Not the way that slithery digit was meandering along the swampy delta down in her crotch. He was driving her to a exquisite climax, no mercy in the extended oral assault that was so sweet for being slow!

The cum burst out of her core like a blast of TNT, the big O as in 'OHH WOW!!' Yeah, that was one for the books; well, better it wasn't recorded considering who had delivered it. It's not a Richter scale graph thing you could measure, but it was a real nice big boom of a cum. Sheila was dazed for an instant, but pleasantly so, and then her senses began to return one by one. Shawn looked up at her with messy, grinning face, proud to have made her cum once more, and for surprising her once again with his smooth moves to bring her off.

She could almost feel him at the gate of her femininity she wanted him so much. When he moved up to kiss her and then French her, she could taste herself, that was wild. His boner was as bloated as it was going to get. But just as she thought he was going to make the full frontal battering ram approach, he maneuvered her over to her hands and knees. When she turned her head she could see his white tee-shirt was pulled up high on his abdomen, his yellow shorts (commando – no jockeys today!) down around his legs, below his knees. That was all he had on besides the white gym socks; he had planned easy access to his equipment, in case an impromptu screw was called for.

Each of their wardrobes was in the 'GO' position. Their position was more classic doggie. He reached around to her chest and fondled her left breast. It popped out from the bra and the pink cap with the erect bud standing out, was there for his eyes to capture that image as well, a memory for life. Her black slip was girdled around her waist no barrier at all to the straight beefstick that was poking at her behind. Without any garment on her that gave even a modicum of barrier between his exposed cock and her bare pussy, she was also ready for cum what may. With one hand on the armrest and a turn of her head, the redheaded mother encouraged her boy to make his aim count, that the target was in range and that she was open.

Her son asked incongruously, “As a little girl, did you ever want to play like you were a pony? Then, think of this as you being the filly and I'm providing stud. Sheila got into the fantasy, she was the mare, he the young stallion brought to breed her. She could now really feel her son's manhood pecking against her tender tissues. He was actually there now with his hot pointed peter prodding and seeking it's place of origin, her womb. The way was awash with the welcoming lotion of her own excitement, he found the entrance and began to penetrate. The tip went in like it was dipping into warm butter,

The shaft that followed was firm and strong, so it seemed even longer that the over six inches he had to fill her with. That muscle of love was not shy about its business, it plunged in with a confident manner. Shawn's hands clasped her hips and guided her back and forth on the hot meat that stroked her pussy from the back. She was the filly, he the mustang steed that was mounting her, his seed would be a flood of equine semen. She felt her womanhood to be in estrus, ready for that special splash of masculine surging. It was so sensual and stimulating, this horsy fantasy, she bucked and whinnied and tossed her flaming mane, as her colt's balls bumped her clit. The pace became quicker, the trot became a cantor, the gallop of their climax seconds away.

Then they were totally making sloppy slapping sounds as their flesh smacked together in a serious 'bumping together of bodies' as she had thought about it, just yesterday. Here they were, over the line, the BIG demarcation, the ultimate incest, the nasty thing she wasn't supposed to do with her son, the horizontal mambo. But God! It was fun, and heavens, did it release the tension. But not of having to deal with the customers, Sheila realized. It was the tiny stress of waiting until it was time to go home and be greeted with a fabulous cum! That's why they had to check the cargo hold, sometimes folks just got so horny that it was spontaneous intercourse, sex on the fly, so to speak!

That's what kept her smiling all day, the thought of getting back to the intimate contact with her youngster. Who now was locked into her cunt with his cock as it spurted his spume in her vagina, in the very uterus he had emerged from so long ago. She let herself have the mammoth orgasm she has been saving all day, her cream tricked out with his jism, She thought she had a napkin in her little purse that still hung around her neck, having not been given a chance to discard even that, as much as she was disheveled otherwise. Then she looked back again and laughed. What the hell, it was an old couch, there could be stains on it; if they were from this activity, so much the better!

“Now mom, my roan mare, you have been given stud service. Remember, this is 'service' with a smile!”

And everyday since, Sheila was happy at her work, giving 'service with a smile', because she wasn't wearing scanties, and she had some body waiting at home for her. Her son, who would make her smile by being her personal steward, when she wanted to fly. They started their own little group of two, the 'smile wide' club. She showed Shawn, what could be done in the hole, not plane, nor simple! The green plush couch was a piece of paradise to Sheila, after a day on her feet, to have her boy boink her bare bottom on the sofa was heavenly. She was once more among the clouds.