Bab 1807: MOM AND I GO ON VACATION
parents stopped fighting when I turned sixteen. It's not like they started getting along; they just stopped fighting. They were polite and civil, like business acquaintances who mildly disliked each other but understood decorum would help get them through the day. Over the next two years I would, through observation, their occasional comments, and remarks of friends and family members, piece together most of what happened; I would not learn all the details until the events described in this story.
On the evening before my sixteenth birthday Mom and Dad were set to look at a car they were considering buying for me. Dad was going to bring a mechanic friend. Dad did not show. He said he was detained at the office.
Dad was a vice-president of Citizen's Bank. His boss was Beverly D'Angelo. Ms. D'Angelo, you always called her Ms. D'Angelo, was formidable. She was fifteen years Dad's senior, looked and dressed like a battleship, and, as far as I could discern, had no sense of humor. She was the bank's owner, chairperson, and president. She'd built Citizen's from scratch and its eight branches prospered in Cobb County, Georgia, despite competition from an array of national banks.
Mom was mad because she believed, correctly, that detained at the office meant that Dad was cheating on her. Dad and Ms. D'Angleo were...? I'm not sure if I know the correct word. His mistress doesn't come close. Her master certainly doesn't capture it; Dad was definitely not in charge. Gigolo is too trivial. Paramour might be best. They were...? Again the word eludes me. Lovers ain't right; intimates ain't right either. They had sex - she was apparently voracious in the sack - but she was in charge and outside the bedroom they showed almost no affection for each other. Propriety was the rule. They always seemed to be, even years after she sold the bank and they married, boss and subordinate.
Mom had come home crying, but by the time Dad arrived, steeled for Mom's onslaught, she had rebooted. She showered, her hair was in place, her make-up, always minimal, perfect. I was asleep when Mom, her presentation imperturbable, made Dad an offer. They would keep the marriage together until I went to college. They would live parallel lives in the same house. He could be detained at the office as much as he wanted, but he would do nothing, like he had that night, to publicly embarrass her; she would do the same for him.
Dad said he would think about it. The next day, having consulted with Ms. D'Angelo, he agreed.
Remarkably, it worked. Mom and Dad were polite, but didn't bother with each other's business. Dad seemed to age, becoming more staid by the month, which is how I suspect Ms. D'Angleo liked it.
The effect on Mom was even more telling. Making plans for life as single woman, she took a job in the Cobb County Parks Department. She quickly became a department favorite and when the position of Assistant to the Director of Public Relations opened, she was promoted. She became a fixture in our community, appearing before civic organizations and schools touting the Parks Department and its services, winning over people with her enthusiasm, sense of humor, and husky sexy voice.
She also came to live her job. She returned to the gym, worked herself back into shape, went for a run each morning. Her weekends were filled with the activity she promoted: horse back riding, kayaking, canoeing, hiking.
My friends started commenting about the new Mom. She was, I knew, to a large extent the old Mom who had rediscovered the joy of the things she has surrendered when she became the proper wife of man of stodgy semi-importance. But there was a new Mom there also; her confidence grew, she was outgoing, friendly, perky. She discarded the regalia of a banker's wife, cut her blonde hair short and practical, favored jeans, shirts and shorts.
Dad kept his word; he did nothing to embarrass Mom, but he spent most of his time at the office and often accompanied Ms. D'Angelo out of town. When he did Mom was, at first, sad and wistful. I'd hang with her, try to cheer her up. Over time that changed. Her ceaseless activity in the community brought her an array of new friends; she became a skilled cook in a number of Asian cuisines; she planted a vegetable garden; she taught at the Wright Environmental Education Center.
More then anything else, however, she went outdoors. At first it was when Dad went away for a weekend that she'd head for north Georgia to rock climb, or canoe, or kayak, or hike. Soon it was most every weekend.
And in the process of Mom rediscovering the outdoors, I discovered it. I had always been most comfortable in front of a computer. The first few times Mom went out-of-town she asked me to come along, saying she needed the company and, I suspect, not trusting me home alone. At first I protested, I was a teenager after all, I protested everything, but after I stopped whining and paid attention I found Mom was right, the outdoors was great. Over the next few years I became Mom's regular companion as we explored the countryside. I also found a bit of the activist in me and she and I became active in the Atlanta Audubon Society and Environment Georgia.
During my senior year I set my sights on the University of Vermont with the hope, on graduation, of getting into the Vermont Law School and its environmental law program. I felt some guilt about leaving Mom, but my guilt was assuaged by Mom's enthusiastic support of the idea. When I received my letter of acceptance Mom gleefully jumped into my arms.
I graduated high school, worked that summer for the Parks Department, a job Mom procured for me, and spent more time than ever with her. It was on one of these trips, camping at the Crooked River Park, thinking of how much I'd miss these excursions with her, that I made the suggestion that would change my life.
"Mom, you haven't had a real vacation in years. Why don't we drive up to Vermont together? We could take a week, ten days, and stop at some of the places we've talked about visiting."
And that is how in August, four months after I turned eighteen, that Mom and I came to pack up my car and head north.
Our first stop was the New River in North Carolina. We had planned a two day canoe trip, camping overnight in the New River State Park. During the first afternoon we saw a thunderstorm heading our way and lost our bet that we could beat it to the campground. By the time we got to the shore and erected our tent, we were drenched. We crawled inside, turned our backs to each other, changed clothes.
Mom lay down, but she was shivering. I crawled up behind her and wrapped my arms around her, trying to warm her up.
Mom's not a big woman - five foot seven inches, 121 pounds - and I was able to envelop her in my grasp. I lay an arm across her chest. She shifted, a braless breast pressed against my forearm. I began to pull away, but Mom had laid her arm over mine and snuggled up against me.
"Thank you, that's better, it feels nice."
So we were quiet, trying to warm each other up, and Mom's breast was pressed against my arm. I began evaluating it. Nice size, not too large, B cup probably. I would have thought ladies her age all drooped, but Mom's were firm. Her nipples, I figured from the cold, were semi-erect.
And I began thinking about her life after I got to college. As a few of my friend's had commented, Mom was a good looking lady. With me out of the house and her marriage dissolving, she'd be dating again. Guys would be lining up for this 39 year old: outgoing, up-beat, positive, ready laugh, slim, flat stomach, green eyes, sexy voice. More than any of that, however, Mom radiated life. She was observant and questioning, her mind alert, curious, flexible, open, enthusiastic about anything new and, despite sometimes being scatter-brained, she learned easily. Dad loved for things to stay the same; Mom looked for variety and change.
Was I ready for a step-dad? I was not ready for a step-dad.
I woke the next morning to the sound of Mom building a fire. While the storm had broken over night, our stuff was still wet. Mom had hung our clothes on a tree branch to dry. I joined her and after breakfast, we packed up and headed down river.
* * * *
Our next stop was the Kanawha State Forest in West Virginia for the Black Bear Weekend, two days of mountain biking with the West Virginia Mountain Biking Association. The second night, around a campfire, everyone was tired and dirty and the beer was flowing freely. I was talking to a good looking red head when I noticed a couple of dudes, they looked college age, flirting with Mom. She was a sight: her jersey and shorts were covered with mud, her knees cut, specks of dirt on her face, pink nail polish chipped. Still she seemed to be enjoying the attention and flirted right back, laughing at their jokes, laying a hand on their chests. I found myself getting annoyed - these guys were hitting on Mom - excused myself, and wandered her way. There I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into me, kissing my cheek. She introduced me as John. The guys hung around for a few more minutes, but wandered off when they figured they weren't going to score.
In the tent that night, as I had in North Carolina, I rolled over and held Mom.
"You're nice and warm," she said, "feels nice."
"Those guys out there, they were interested in you."
It took her a second to get my meaning and then she laughed, that husky throaty laugh of hers. "Oh c'mon son. I'm an old lady, I could be their mother."
"Mom, you're a good-looking woman. Guys are always checking you out."
Mom rolled on to her side and looked at me.
"So you think your Mom's a fox you gotta protect, do you?"
"Well, I meant attractive in a Mom kinda way."
She smiled. "Demoted from fox to Mom-kinda-way so quickly. My poor ego can barely sustain the blow."
Mom saw me trying to craft a response.
"Well son, before you put your foot back in your mouth, why don't you give me a leg rub. I am some sore."
And, as the fading noise of the party gave way to the sounds of the forest at night, that is what I did.
* * * *
Our next stop was Pennsylvania Amish country for two days of road cycling. Instead of camping we stayed at the Richmond House Bed and Breakfast in New Holland. Riding with a local bicycle club we put in eighty-five miles the first day. On our return Mom showered, emerging from the bathroom in a pink shirt, white pants, and sandals. There was a healthy glow to her skin.
We had dinner at a restaurant named, I kid you not, Lickity Split, shared an ice cream sundae, and headed back to the room. Mom returned to the bathroom to get ready for bed. There, through the door she had left half-open so we could continue our conversation, I saw her reflection in a bedroom mirror. She was naked, bending down to pick up a flannel shirt. My eyes were drawn to her ass. Mom had a great ass: skin smooth, symmetrical, rounded at the top and bottom, shapely, taut and firm, and set high on her body. What was Mom? I'd guess 34-26-34. She put on the shirt.
I changed and although the room had two beds, she asked if I wouldn't mind sleeping next to her. She said she liked the warmth of my body. I, of course, assented, taking her in my arms. She feel asleep first and I lay there, thinking about the dudes who had flirted with her last night. It had probably been years since Mom had sex. After I got to college would she try to make up for lost time? I'd seen the ways guys looked at her. I had a few prurient thoughts about the ass separated from my penis by only a flannel shirt.
* * * *
The final leg of our journey was a three day hike on Vermont's Long Trail. The weather was perfect and the days glorious as we walked a small portion of this wonder. We were walking in the middle of the week and so had the trail and its abundant wildlife mostly to ourselves. While it was before the leaves changed, the scenery was still magnificent.
On the second day we camped by Duck Brook Shelter, next to a small water fall and pond. We were the only people there. By this point Mom no longer needed to ask; during
the night I held her body to mine. When I woke I wasn't surprised to find her gone - she usually got up before I did and prepared breakfast - but when I poked my head out of the tent she wasn't there. I pulled on my shorts and shoes and headed for the water, thinking Mom might be hoping to catch a moose come for an early morning drink.
I found her there. She was swimming, wearing one of my tee-shirts. Her sleek athletic form moved effortlessly through the water. I didn't hide, but I didn't alert her to my presence. I just watched. She was, I thought, quite a beautiful woman.
After about ten minutes she stopped, stood, and headed for the shore. The wet tee-shirt, now near transparent, clung to her, outlining her slender build. She was naked underneath. I could see her breasts, which stood high on her chest, and her full erect dark nipples. I could see the dark thatch of hair between her legs. Her skin, the result of the exercise, was flushed red. Water was running down her body.
Good lord she was striking. And sexy. How could Dad prefer Ms. D'Angelo, the tug boat, when this sleek sexy destroyer was available?
Then she saw me.
"How long have you been standing there?" she shouted.
"Just got here," I lied.
"Well don't stare. It's rude. Make yourself useful. Get my towel."
I followed her eyes to the right. A towel was hanging on a tree branch.
I grabbed it and approached Mom, struggling mightily to keep my eyes on hers. She covered the top of her head with her towel and dried her hair. Then she turned around, faced the pond, and continued to dry herself. Water was dripping down her body, flowing across her back and over her butt. Her ass, high and firm, was clearly outlined in the shirt.
Was she aware of how sheer this thing was?
Was I ogling my mother?
Her back still towards me, she said, "The water's cold, but clean. You should try it. It's a refreshing way to get up in the morning."
"I'll keep it in mind."
She turned back to me. Again I concentrated, trying to keep my attention on her face, but as we headed back to the tent I slowed, followed her, looking at Mom's tight firm body.
I thought I'd gotten away with it, but when we got back Mom, playfully, snapped the towel at me. "I told you, its not polite to stare. Why don't you get the fire ready. I'm going to change."
She disappeared into the tent.
* * * *
We finished our three days on the trail that evening and drove to Burlington, the terminus of our trip. We also ended our string of rustic accommodations, checking into one of those national chain suite hotels. That night Mom and I grabbed a pizza, had a few beers, and headed back to the room. She pushed off her shoes and got onto the bed, fully clothed. She curled up, suddenly sad.
"Come hold me."
I did.
We were quiet. Then Mom was crying. Not bawling, but gentle tears.
"Mom, you okay?"
"Yeah, I know I'm being silly, but I've had a wonderful time and I'm going to miss you so much and I'm not sure I want to go home."
And then she cried harder and then the entire story of my father and her, detail after detail, gushed from her. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing, holding her while she talked and cried, stroking her hair, occasionally grunting to affirm I was listening. And although I can't really take credit, that turned out to be exactly what she needed. Finally, cried out, exhausted, she fell asleep. I sat up awhile, thinking about what she'd said. I had my own bed, but when I went to sleep I pulled the blanket back and slipped next to her, holding her for another night.
* * * *
The next day Mom played tourist while I attended orientation. Everyone was talking about the party that night at Phi Phi Phi, its annual event welcoming incoming freshmen. It sounded great, but I couldn't see abandoning Mom. When I got back to the hotel I learned that Mom had heard about it; it was the talk of the town and Burlington, I would discover, was a very small town.
Mom suggested I go. I told her no, I would not leave her alone. She said don't be silly, she'd be fine. I suggested she come with me. She told me college boys do not go to parties with their mothers. I pointed out that most college boys don't have moms as cool as her and, who knew, maybe she'd get lucky.
Mom laughed. "Really, an old lady like me."
"Well Mom, you're not old, you're beautiful, and college guys dig hot older chicks."
Mom, at least, did not seem repulsed by the suggestion.
"Think of it as revenge on Dad. Pick up a young kid, show him a good time."
Mom and I went to a Lebanese restaurant, shared a bottle of wine, and she finally agreed to go, saying it was only so I would go. She'd wander around for a few minutes, leave.
* * * *
When we got there I noticed a cute slender blonde talking with a group of friends. I thought I caught her looking at me. My eyes wandered her way several times and it seemed like she was occasionally glancing at me. When Mom excused herself to go to the bathroom I took the opportunity to introduce myself. Her name was Sandy. We started talking. Over Sandy's shoulder I saw Mom come out of the frat house, see me talking to Sandy, nod, and wander off, giving me the opportunity to make time with this cutie.
The crowd at the party increased. I saw Mom a few times, eventually settling into a conversation with a big hulking kid who seemed completely fixated on her. The way he looked at her, well, he was interested and when the two of them left together I felt something akin to jealously.
Sandy invited me back to her place. We settled on her couch, drank her excellent French press coffee, talked. She was native to Vermont, starting her second year at the university, intending to major in chemistry. The conversation was interesting and increasingly flirty. Soon I had an arm around her. I kissed her lips, nuzzled her neck, licked her ear, sucked on her shoulders. She pulled my shirt over my head and lapped my nipples. Then she pulled her shirt over her head and I ran my hands over her exquisite body, then squeezed and licked her firm full Soon we were in her bedroom, my face buried in her cunt.
I like to think I'm a pretty good pussy eater - I love feasting on a woman's sex - and Sandy was digging it, squirming, digging her hands in my hair. She was incredibly responsive. Whapping her clit with my tongue, finding, then stroking her g-spot with two fingers, I brought her to several orgasms, finishing with her squirting into my mouth and hollering loud enough, I thought, to be heard throughout the building. Finally she cupped my face, moved me away from her clit, and said, between gulps of breath, "No more, no more."
I brought her down slowly, licking lightly around her sex, like a cat with a small bowl of milk. When I was done she was still awhile, breathing, enjoying her body, laying her head on my shoulder. Then we began kissing again, she stroked my cock, and opened a drawer in the table by her bed. She handed me a condom. But there was a problem. My dick had deflated, it was only half hard.
Embarrassed, I said nothing. Sandy looked at my penis, understood my sudden silence, and said, "Let's see if we can help this bad boy along." She took me in her mouth and while it took awhile, she got me fully erect, pushed the condom over my dick, straddled me, and slid her pussy onto my dick.
I thrust twice, came. I couldn't believe it. Me? Premature ejaculation? I hadn't feel the pleasure of an orgasm, but I'd definitely come. I never had premature ejaculation. I was mortified. My dick was also incredibly sensitive. I put my hands on her ass, stopping her movements.
"You okay?' she asked.
Yeah fine, but I mean, I just came. I'm sorry, it's never happened before."
"Do you want to stop?"
Gasping, "Yeah, it's real sensitive."
She got off me, removed the condom, and lay to my side, snuggling up next to me. "It's okay. After what your mouth did for me, I owe you a few." I held her sweaty body in my arms and thought about Mom. I hoped she was having better luck than I.
* * * *
I woke the following morning to Sandy, wearing a tee-shirt and jeans, bouncing onto the bed. She handed me a cup of green tea and a bagel. "Morning. My pussy still feels so good. You've got a talented mouth."
"Thanks." I could feel my dick hardening. I thought, maybe, we could try again.
She must have seen it in my eyes. "No time, gotta run. Meeting with my advisor in half-an-hour. I have a proposal for you. When you get over her, give me a call."
I was confused. "Excuse me."
"When you got to the party last night I saw you with that woman. Couldn't figure out who she was, attractive lady. Could have been a friend, could have been a date. But you kept looking at me so I figured you two weren't together and when you wandered over I figured you were game. But still, you kept looking at her talking to that guy, his name is Bruno by the way, good guy. I thought I saw something in your eyes. Not sure what it was, jealously? When you came so quickly last night, that confirmed it. You're a nice guy, not the cheating kind, so this is what I figure: you two been dating, broke up, and are trying to be friends, so you go to a party together. The problem is you're not over her and so last night when you're with me guilt creeps in and, presto-bango, you come before your time. I got it right?"
I wanted to say hell fricking no, SHE IS MY MOTHER, but said, "Not exactly."
She stood. "Well whatever it is, like I said, when you get over her give me a call."
I dressed, walked her to campus, and returned to the hotel. Mom was not there. The bed had not been slept in. I took a much needed shower.
* * * *
Mom dragged in a couple of hours later. I was going to make a smart ass comment, but she gave me a look, the kind that says don't make a smart ass comment, and headed for the shower. Her shower was long and hot and when she got out she was wearing the same tee-shirt in which she'd gone swimming at Duck Brook Shelter. She said she was tired and needed to lay down. She asked me to hold her. I cradled her in my arms; she fell asleep almost instantly. I got up and went to the living room.
About ninety minutes later I heard Mom stirring in the bedroom. I reved up the coffee maker and stuck my head in the door.
"Hey son, how long have I been asleep?"
"Hour and a half."
"I need some coffee. Be a dear and make me a cup."
"It's already brewing."
"Thanks."
I headed for the kitchen. Mom visited the potty and joined me. When the coffee was ready we sat on the couch in the living room, the sunlight streaming into the room through a large window overlooking Lake Champlain. I was on one end of the couch, Mom on the other; our legs draped across each other.
"Well, how did it go last night?" I asked.
"Do you want to know if your Mom's easy? Did she do it with some guy who picked her up at a party?"
"Well, you should tell the story your own way."
She smirked at me, then said, "Okay, I did. He was actually quite nice, very sweet. We went and got some ice cream. He was tentative, unsure of himself. I'm not sure he's done this before. I said to myself, what the heck, why not. Your Dad hasn't touched me in years, he's been getting it on the side, here I am with this good looking 20-something kid who's eager and ready to go. He wants me, no one will ever know, so I let him know I'm interested. We get back to his place, surprisingly neat and clean - you could learn something from him - and we're kissing and our clothes come off..."
The image of my mother stripping had a weird effect on me. I was angry. How dare this kid touch Mom. I suppressed the thought, the important thing was to listen, to support Mom through her confession.
"... and we head for the bedroom and all of a sudden it all seems wrong. And I can't
figure out why it seems wrong. It's not like I feel like I'm cheating on your father, its not like I feel like I'm corrupting this kid, but still it feels wrong. We start and, and..."
Mom started crying. She slid to my end of the couch and I pulled her into my arms. She buried her head into my chest. I held her, but mixed in with genuine concern was the memory of her swimming in this shirt. I felt the warmth of her body. She cuddled against me; I felt a breast against my arm.
She continued, her voice almost child-like. "Well, he did his best. After he, y'now, tried his fingers, then his mouth, he kept at it, but y'know, it was pretty clear it was not about to happen. I wasn't even excited. Finally I asked him to stop, told him it was me, that it had been a long time, that I was nervous. I got him hard again and used my mouth on him. It used to be that whenever I did that I'd get really excited, but I still felt nothing. After he came he fell asleep; he seemed happy."
She looked out the window. "He was a nice perfectly attractive guy. Heck, I have loads of friends who'd die for a roll in the hay with a hard-bodied twenty year old. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Then she sniffled. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She changed the subject. "How about you. That sure was a pretty girl you were talking to."
"Yeah, real nice too. It's weird, I had an experience kinda like yours. She was great, there was not a thing wrong with her. But..."
Now I stopped, not sure how to say this to my mother, my discomfort plain. Mom filled in the blank.
"Your thing wasn't working?"
"Eventually, after a long time and a lot of attention, it did. Then it lasted about a minute. I mean, that's never happened to me. It's always worked just fine." Then, feeling defensive, I added, "I mean its not like I left her high and dry. I have other skills."
Mom pecked me on the lips. "Other skills are important, sometimes the most important."
She understood. I continued.
"This morning she said the strangest thing. She saw us, you and I, come to the party together, talked about the way we looked at each other. The bottom line: she thought you and I had been a couple, had broken up, but weren't over each other. She attributed my, my performance, or my lack of performance, to that. Told me to give her a call when I got over you."
Mom was quiet awhile. Then she said she was hungry. She went to get dressed.
Over what was either a late lunch or early dinner we did not revisit last night . After eating we walked to the campus, explored the grounds. It was early evening when we came upon the Jeffords Gardens. Mom and I sat on one of the large benches, her back to my chest. We had the place to ourselves.
We said nothing at first, just watched the setting sun. After it disappeared I rubbed her neck and shoulders, kissed the back of her head, told her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, how much I'd miss her. She turned her head and I kissed her cheeks and lips. Then her lips puckered and she returned the kiss. I felt its impact throughout my body; I wanted it to happen again, but wasn't sure how Mom felt.
And then, deliberately and with a peculiar quivering smile that seemed to overspread her whole body, Mom placed her mouth on mine. My arms folded around her and it was not a mother-son kiss, our lips were aggressive and intent. It was a long kiss and when done she drew her head back, as if trying to understand what just happened. She put her strong fingers on my neck through my open collar, closed her eyes, and brought her mouth to mine, giving herself up in a long sweet sexy kiss. I ran my tongue over them and her lips parted, welcoming me inside.
And so Mom and I began smooching. It was like I was back in high school. We were not kissing on the road to something else; we were kissing because kissing was the best thing in the world. Mom's lips were soft and wet and sweet and I loved the feel of her body as she leaned into me. My hand went to the back of her neck and shoulders, hers rested on my arm. Our first kiss was long, the next longer; her lips dueled with mine, her tongue danced with mine; we pulled away, breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes, and began again. I ran my tongue behind Mom's lips, she explored the roof of my mouth. We kissed hard, we kissed soft; Mom nuzzled my ear, I kissed her, lips dry, lightly, all over her face; looping from forehead to temple and back to her mouth.
After while, I'm not sure how long we'd been there, but it was dark and we were alone, Mom said, "'Let's see if I can help you with this, he's working fine today," and her hand was inside my shorts, grasping my throbbing erection.
Mom started frigging my dick. We kept kissing. Mom varied, but steadily increased, the tempo of her hand on my shaft. Then she reached down and palmed my scrotum, four fingers on one side, thumb on the other, and thrust upward. I groaned, I was loud. Mom slowed down, placed an open hand on my chest, calmed me.
"Sweetie, better keep it down."
She kissed me, looked around, saw no one, and grabbed the hem of my shorts, pulling them down, freeing my cock.
She inverted her right hand, thumb pointing down, and took hold of the top of my penis, torquing her palm around my cockhead. Her thumb worked my dick's sensitive underside; she twisted her other hand around my dick's base. She stared at my penis, waiting for me to come. MY MOM WAS STARING AT MY COCK WAITING FOR ME TO COME. It felt insanely good.
I was a balloon ready to burst. "Mom, oh Mom, uuunnnh, uuuuunnnh, Unnhhh, Uunnnnhhhhhhhhhhh, uuuunnnnnnnnnn, uuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," and then I exploded. Cum geysered from my dick, spraying into the air. Mom released my cock and twisted her body, leaning into me, looking into my eyes, smiling broadly.
"How'd I do?"
I answered, "Fantastic," and my gaze drifted to her cheek. There was a smattering of semen there. She noticed my look, used a finger to capture the cream, and brought it to her mouth. We kissed. I pushed my hand inside her shorts, touching her pussy lips. She was wet. I grazed the surface. Mom moaned. She was ready. I slipped one, then two fingers inside her.
Then I heard, "Can I help you kids?"
I pulled up my shorts. Shit, there could be no question as to what had been happening. A man, carrying a flashlight, approached. He was wearing the uniform of the campus police. Mom spoke first.
"Good evening officer."
"Evening ma'am. You a student here."
"I am sir, just starting actually. Just got through orientation."
"Well, ma'am, there's been a lot of complaints about kids well, y'know, doing it around campus. Citizens of this fine city will be walking along and see two students making it in the bushes. We're under strict order to crack down. Dean figures if we arrest a couple of students it'll stop. So if I thought that's what you two were doing, I'd have to arrest you."
My heart stopped beating, my libido was obliterated.
"But that's not what you were doing, was it?"
Mom again. "No officer, we were just sitting in this lovely spot watching the sunset, enjoying the evening. In fact, we were just about to head home. But thank you very much for the information."
With a slight nod of his head he said, "You have a good evening ma'am, sir."
"You too officer."
Mom and I walked back to the hotel. My mind was racing. What just happened? What was wrong with me, this was my mother? Trying to work out my frustration of the night before, I had taken advantage of her, used her own bad experience to my benefit. Last night she had wondered what was wrong with her, felt asexual, and now I was making it worse. "Yeah Mom, at least you make your son horny." Jeez, how could I? I felt ashamed, guilty, I knew I should shut up, but I didn't. When we got back to the room, near tears, I said, "Mom, back there, I apologize, I mean, I'm your son, I shouldn't have. I got carried away. God, I'm sorry."
Mom looked at me, not angry, more disappointed. Then she comforted me. She held my hands and stepped back, "It's okay John, I guess we both did. We had hard times last night. However, son, if you don't mind, since I'm leaving tomorrow, would you hold me again tonight, one last time."
It sounded like she was forgiving me. I knew my face was beaming when I said, "Of course Mom, I'd love too."
I dropped Mom at the airport the following morning, headed to campus, met my roommate, moved into my dorm, started college life.
* * * *
I missed Mom, more than I thought I would. We were in daily contact. If it got me the reputation of something of a Mama's boy, so be it. And although Mom and I never mentioned it, the memory of Jeffords Garden was burned into my memory. The guilt I felt could not stop it's aphrodisiacal effect as, cock in hand, I replayed it in my head when I masturbated. If a girl didn't want to go all the way I was always amenable to a hand job, surrendering to the fantasy that it was mother's fist wrapped around my dick.
At Thanksgiving I was to return home. Mom let me know that Dad was planning the big announcement: they were getting a divorce. Mom met me at the airport. She was wearing a yellow pull over dress. It was short, showing off her legs and body to good effect. We stopped at the grocery store, fixed a light dinner, split a bottle of wine. It was clear Dad had already moved out; the bathrooms were devoid of his things, the closets half empty. After dinner we adjourned to the porch swing. It was getting late.
Then it came up, the 600 pound gorilla, the night in the rose garden.
"John, what happened in the garden, that last night in Burlington, do you ever think about it?"
Yes, I thought, constantly, every fucking day.
"Yes."
"And what do you think?"
I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't tell her the truth, that it might have been the best moment of my life, but that seemed nuts. I could be graphic and tell her I constantly jack off to the memory of it. That seemed a bit crude. Maybe I should I apologize. Maybe I should ask forgiveness. Maybe I should be a coward, not say anything, get on a plane back to Burlington. Indecision and cowardice triumphed; I said nothing.
Mom saw my discomfort. "Would it be easier if I went first?"
Sheepishly, "Yeah."
"I wanted you to make love to me that night."
While her tone was demure, there was absolute certainty in her voice. My response, in contrast, was slow and haltering. "I wanted to, I wasn't sure, I mean, y'know, that cop..."
She put a finger to my lips, shushing me. The she hung her heart out.
"I should have just told you that is what I wanted. Sometimes we girls, we expect guys to just know, like if you really cared for us you'd be able to read our minds. Magical thinking I guess. Tomorrow, at brunch, your Dad is going to announce what you already know, we're getting divorced. Would you make love to me now, tonight?"
Mom would later tell me how frightened she was when she said this, worried that I'd be repulsed, that she'd be humiliated, her heart-broken.
In actuality, I was not sure how I felt. I had accepted the fact that I was attracted to her. I fantasized about her. But now I was facing the reality of making love to her. However, whatever else I felt, I knew I could not say no, could not disappoint her at this moment. I'd figure out what it meant tomorrow.
I lay my arm over her shoulder, leaned forward, kissed her. At first gently, a peck on the lips. Then on the cheeks. Then on the forehead, each eye, her nose, her lips. Mom put her arms around my neck, looked up and smiled. I knew it was going to be okay. Our lips met, I could feel her hot breath. She opened her mouth slightly, surprised me by licking my lips and, when my mouth parted, slipped the tip of her tongue inside. Although I had started unsure of what would happen, I felt the heat. I gave her my tongue, let her play with it. Our kiss continued, we probed each other's mouths and lips. I was light-headed, dizzy. Mom tightened her grip on my head, pulled me to her. On and on we kissed. Mom nuzzled my neck, my ears, my throat. My breath was coming in short gasps. My cock was hard.
I eased from her arms and breathlessly whispered, "Wow, you are some kisser." Mom smiled and our lips joined together. The connection between us seemed palpable and we were kissing deeply, tenderly probing, searching each other's mouths. I was swept up in the carnal taboo. I kissed her neck and when she leaned back, licked and caressed her throat. I ran a hand down her side. She wasn't wearing a bra. I moved my hands to her breasts, cupping them as we kissed. Mom kissed me even harder. I felt her nipples. Mom took my face in her hands and kissed my eyes, nose, lips, neck.
I released her breasts and pulled her close: our tongues met before our lips did. We were kissing with a fiery passion. Panting heavily, Mom kissed all over my neck, and clumsily - her hands were shaking - opened two buttons of my shirt and kissed my shoulders and chest. I ran a hand up her leg, loving the firm hard muscles. Our lips brushed against each other. She continued to unbutton my shirt; her hands felt good on my chest. Then it was all the way open. Mom pushed it off my shoulders; it feel to the floor of the porch.
I whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, that night I was afraid you'd be angry. Like I made you go too far. I haven't been able to get that night, you, out of my mind."
I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips, kissing each finger tip and then, starting at the bottom, kissing up their sides. Returning to her mouth, I licked her lips and commenced a re-exploration: tasting her tongue, her cheeks, her lips - front, top, and back - flicking my tongue in an arc along the roof of her mouth. I was intensely hungry for this woman.
I was trembling; I pulled back. I looked into my mother's eyes; she was so beautiful. I started to kiss her lovely face, left soft gentle kisses across her forehead, on her temple, kissed back down to her mouth. My mother ran her hand down the side of my face.
"Son, maybe, we should go inside."
"I'd like that."
I followed her to the bedroom. She turned to face me, took hold of her dress, and pulled it over her in one motion. She was wearing only yellow panties. For the moment I was unsure of what to do. Mom sensed my hesitation.
"You like?"
"Yes. Mom you're beautiful. That morning on the Long Trail, you went swimming, the tee shirt, when it got wet, I could see, almost all of you. I haven't been able to forget it."
Mom smiled and walked to me, took my hands in hers, kissed my lips, unbuckled my belt, pulled it out, dropped it behind me.
"Its time for bed."
Mom turned and walked to the bed. I watched her butt. She pulled the sheet over herself. I pushed my shoes off with my toes and dropped my pants and underwear to the floor. My penis was erect, swinging free.
"Son, you're gorgeous."
Feeling surprisingly calm, I crawled under the sheets She rolled on to her back and I kissed her. We started slow, but things quickly heated up, months of desire were poured into those kisses. I had intended to be patient, to carefully caress and touch each turn and curve of her body - and her body was so sweet - but she took my hand and placed it on her sex. She was warm and wet, very wet. I slipped my hand under her panties, spread her pussy lips, and rubbed small circles around her clit with my thumb. I slid my thumb down, stroked her vaginal lips, then brought it back to her clit coated with her juice. I resumed the small circles, pressing harder when I slid over the clitoris.
Mom was gasping into my mouth.
I raan my middle finger up and down her vulva. Mom's hands tightened on my back.
It was time. I plunged my index, my middle, then my ring finger into her cunt, soaking them in her sex. I dragged them through her vulva to her clit, further lubricating it.
I pushed my middle finger back into her hole. My ring finger then entered her, increasing the pressure along the roof of her tunnel. Mom jerked and groaned; I'd found her g-spot.
Our kisses were desperate and sloppy.
I covered her sex with my palm, pressed down, worked her wet tingly clit with the heel of my hand while rubbing the roof of her vagina. Mom started bucking. I finger fucked her with increasing speed and intensity.
"Oh baby, feels good, finger Mommy, finger Mommy."
Mom stopped kissing me, pulling my head to her neck. Using a corkscrew motion, twisting from the wrist, I drove my fingers into her as deep and hard as I could. Mom dug her short nails into my back. I continued working her clit with a tight circular motion. Mom pushed up hard, jamming her clit into my hand.
"Oh god, that's it, that's it, almost there, almost there, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, eeeerrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! OH FUCK YES!"
Mom came in a short sudden burst. Her arms tightened on my back and then let go as she cried out in a plaintive burst of air. Her cunt contracted around my fingers.
She whimpered and sank back onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed. I pulled my hand from her now soaked panties, kissed her forehead, then her mouth, gentle pecks. She was quiet for a beat or two, then, in a voice soft and dreamy said, "That was so nice."
I looked into her face and she smiled and I saw the tears. She noticed me noticing and wiped them away with her hand.
"I didn't mean to get all blubbery with you."
I kissed her once, on the nose. "It's fine Mom. I'd cry too but, y'know, guy stuff."
And I held her and we talked and our hands drifted over each other's body. We said nothing profound, just letting each other know that, after we'd broken the ultimate taboo, we could still speak to each other, could still be normal.
However, no guy would be normal if he could lay in bed with this woman for long without the focus turning carnal. I started, almost absentmindedly, fiddling with her breasts, running a finger tip along their contours, holding them in my hands, enjoying their heft. The conversation petered out, replaced my Mom's heavy breathing as she became absorbed in the sensations flowing from her chest. I straddled her, kissed the globes, took my time. When I reached a nipple I gave it a long hard lick.
Mom sighed. Her eyes were shut. I scanned her body. She was a gift I never thought could be mine. I moved to her face and kissed her with barely controlled passion, and whispered, "Right now I want to focus on you."
I moved back. My fingers moved from her shoulders to her breasts. I held them, touched them, licked around her areolas, over her nipples, along the undersides. When I lightly raked my teeth over the nipples she squirmed in delight.
"I like that."
I cupped her breasts, at first gently squeezing, gauging her reaction, increasing the pressure. She mewled in satisfaction. I rolled her nipples between my fingers, sucked them into my mouth, flicked them with my tongue.
Mom was shaking.
I started kissing down her belly and pulled aside the sheet, exposing her body from knees up. I stared at her panties, thinking of what was underneath. I pressed my hand to her pelvic bone, feeling the heat from her sex. I slid the hand down, felt her pussy lips through the fabric. She was wet. I ran my tongue over the face of her pussy through her panties, took hold of them, inched them down to her knees. I looked at her bare pussy for the first time.
Mom's sex was beautiful. Her long pussy lips were wet and swollen; her hair was neat, short, trimmed. The clit, having pushed aside its hood, was exposed. It was large. I placed my hands on her knees, spread her lean muscular legs, and licked and kissed her thighs, occasionally blowing a stream of hot air across her clit. I ran my tongue along her vulva, sucked its warm lips into my mouth. I licked lightly across her pussy and moved down, dragging my tongue along her perineum. I spread the copious flow of her juice over the face of her cunt with my fingers, then immersed my face in the warmth and smell of her sex. Her juice spread over my mouth and jaw, oozed into my nose.
I gave her pussy a French kiss, flicking my tongue back and forth, up and down, at every angle, speed, and power I could imagine. I tried short strokes, long strokes, positioning my mouth at different angles and at different locations, then moved my mouth to the vaginal opening, curled my tongue, pushed it inside her. Imagining she was an ice cream cone, I licked the length of her sex, then tried quick licks from side and side, occasionally capturing her clit between my lips, sucking on it.
Mom was moaning and jerking.
I had built up a wad of saliva in my mouth. I let it drip out onto Mom's vulva. It flowed down to her pussy. I slid a finger inside her, exploring the roof of her vagina. Mom jumped and gasped, "Ohmigod." I had found Mom's g-spot. A steady flow of liquid ran from her pussy to the crevice of her ass. I rotated my hand and fingered her asshole with my pinky. In response Mom, who was breathing in short hard gasps, grunted, "I like." I inserted my pinky, up to the first joint, in her butt.
Mom was breathing heavily, moaning, grabbing the sides of my head, thrusting her hips into my face. She was ready. I sucked her clit into my mouth, captured it between my lips, battered the head with my tongue. Mom moaned and squirmed; losing herself in the hard relentless attack. Bucking and moaning, she grabbed my hair, pulled my face into her snatch.
"Oh John, fingers, tongue, so good, so good, so good."
Mom's head bounced, her hair flung around, her yelps, bordering on screams, intensified.
"OH YES, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, HONEY I LOVE IT."
Her moans heightened; she started yelling.
"EAT ME BABY, EAT YOUR MOMMY'S CUNT."
I kept slapping her clit, screwing my fingers inside her pussy. Mom shook and twisted.
"OH GOD JOHNNY, I'M CUMMING."
Cream gushed from her pussy. I didn't slow down. She came again. Her pussy gripped tightly on my finger, pulsating with each orgasm as it washed over her. I continued licking and finger fucking her, reached a hand to her breast, squeezed it. When I pinched a nipple she went over the edge again.
"OOOOHHHHH GGGGOOOOOODDDDD!!"
I wasn't sure. Was she coming from before or coming again? I took hold of her hips, pulled them to me, and slowed it all down, laying the flat of my tongue on her clit, moving it gracefully around. Her body jerked in a series of sweet small follow-up orgasms. I drank the fluid that poured from her.
She stopped moving. I kissed and licked her thighs until, in a soft voice, she said, "Come here my love."
I crawled up next to her.
She rolled over to face me, her eyes aglow.
"That was wonderful. It's never been like that before, never been that good. I love you my beautiful son, I always will."
I didn't know how to respond, but I did not need to. My erection brushed against her. She reached for it, wrapped her fingers around it.
"This needs some attention. Just give Mommy a second to rest."
She kissed me. Her lips were soft and sweet. She closed her eyes, whispered again that she loved me, and seamlessly fell into a deep happy content sleep.
I lay there about ten minutes holding her, before realizing she was out for the night. I looked at the clock. It was close to midnight, hours after Mom usually went to bed. She was not getting back up. My dick was throbbing. I considered waking her; I considered masturbating. The first seemed cruel, the second oddly disrespectful; I did neither. I got out of bed and sat in the dark, thinking about what had just happened, what had happened over the last several years, what had happened on our vacation. At 3:00 A.M., my cock flaccid, my balls no longer aching, I crawled into bed next to Mom.
I woke at 9:30. Mom was gone. A moment of panic was pushed aside by the realization that she was on her morning jog. A glance at the corner where she kept her running shoes confirmed the thought; they were gone. For the next hour I, ruminating, looking into my own heart, drifted in and out of sleep.
I was finally awoken by Mom.
"Get up sleepy head."
I opened my eyes. Mom didn't dress up often, but she was dressed up now. Her red dress clung to her chest and hips while floating freely around her thighs. The neck was open past her breasts, exposing a hint of cleavage. She noted the appreciative look in my eyes and pirouetted. The slit in the skirt opened, exposing her leg, the top of her stockings, the straps of a garter belt, and more than a hint of flesh.
Mom had followed my eyes. She planted her foot on the end table, displaying her undergarments. She had painted her toenails a deep sexy red and was wearing red leather stiletto 4 ½ inch heels with a pointed toe and some strappy detailing. With those heels, I thought, she'd be slightly taller than Dad.
"Jeez Mom, you look incredible. Very sexy. I didn't know you owned stockings."
"You don't think it's a bit over the top."
I looked at her for a minute, thinking about her question. She looked great and the dress was classy, appropriate for a first-rate restaurant. But there was something that seemed a bit off. Then it struck me; the dress was happy, joyful, not clothes you wore to something sad.
"Well, you don't look like somebody going to hear bad news. You look sexy, joyful. "
"Good, that's exactly how I want to look. Your dad is taking us to Bacchanalia, one of Atlanta's best restaurants, to tell you he's leaving me. The choice was no accident. He'll be comfortable there, he and Bev D'Angelo eat there often. He wanted a proper place, a place where no one would make a scene, where he will be in control. I sure he'll be in a power suit. So I thought, why give in? Today's a day to celebrate. My beautiful son made wonderful love to me last night. It's a day to wear something fun, something sexy, something that recognizes that this might not just be his day, but a day to revel in my new life. So, what do you think?'
"Think? I think you look great."
"Thanks honey. You better get ready. I know I left you high and dry last night. When we get back I'll make it up to you."
I stood, quite naked, and she sidled up to me, put her hands around my neck, and kissed me. Then she stopped, seeing the serious look on my face.
"What's going on?"
"There is something I need to tell you."
There was concern in her green eyes. "Good news I hope."
"Yeah, good news. After you fell asleep last night I stayed up late, just thinking. Hit the sack around three. Everything that has happened is so new, so amazing. I thought about it, searched my feelings. There was one thing I was sure of. I want you to know. I love you."
Mom's voice was tentative. She knew what she wanted it to mean, but was cautious, afraid she might misinterpret. "I love you too son."
"No Mom, not like that. I love you as a man loves a woman. I want to be your man, I want you to be my lady."
Mom cocked her head to the side, studied my face, wondered whether this was simply a remnant of last night's romp.
Finally, with a slight nod of her head, she said, "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes."
She continued. "I am too son. I love you. Sometime during our trip last summer I realized I was in love with you. I woke up one morning, looked at you lying next to me, still asleep, and knew it to an absolute certainty. I don't know whether I fell in love with you that morning, or on the trip, or whether I've been in love with you forever. But I've looked at it over and over, from every angle, with my heart and with my head, and it's real."
I kissed and held her, only letting go when she insisted I get ready. I would have blown off Dad and crawled back into bed with her, but this lunch was important. It was her opportunity to announce that her life was not ruined, that she was ready to move on, to live without him.
While I got ready, donning a light blue shirt and khakis, Mom finished her make-up and pinned up her hair. She looked great. I took her hand in mine. We walked to the car. Mom started laughing.
"Just think, I'm bringing my new lover to lunch with my soon to be ex. What would Miss Manners say?"
I opened her door and was treated to a brief flash of bare flesh as she stepped in, one leg at a time. I got in I and took a deep whiff of her perfume; it was light and breezy, perfect for the day. I held her hand on the ride over. When we got to the restaurant I didn't see a place to park. I offered to drop her off while I hunted for one, but she said she preferred to be with me. I drove around a few corners before finding an empty commercial lot. I parked and opened her door.
I was rewarded. With her right foot on the pavement and left foot in the car, Mom turned her body and dug through her purse for a tube of lipstick and gave herself a quick touch up. Her legs were open, the top of her stockings and thigh visible. I stared, fixated on the soft skin just below where her panties must be.
"How do I look?"
"Great."
"Okay, let's go see your father."
When we got to the restaurant we linked arms and walked in. The hostess directed us to Dad, who was sitting with his back to the door. He wore a navy blue suit, red tie, and white shirt. Mom and I chose the seats against the wall. I pulled out her chair. While Dad's eyes fixed on Mom's outfit she playfully squeezed my arm and sat down. I kissed her on the cheek. Mom gave me a teasing wink.
We ordered cocktails. Mom took the pin from her hair and shook her head. Her hair fell about her in a blonde cloud, momentarily hiding her face and shoulders. I wanted to kiss it, ripple it through my fingers, bury my face in it. Dad just stared. Was he, for a moment, doubting his decision? Mom fluffed her hair a few times, checked a mirror, and excused herself, heading for the stairs leading to the bathroom. I kept my eyes on her tight round ass, watching her hips rock from side to side. I saw, or at least thought I saw, the top of her stockings as her dress swished back and forth with each step. My cock was rock hard.
"Quite a dress your Mom has on."
"Yes Dad, she looks great."
"You don't think she's making a spectacle of herself?"
"Your wife's a beautiful woman. She attracts attention. The dress is appropriate; I see nothing wrong with it."
Dad harumphed, "That's one of the reasons we're getting together today."
My phone beeped. I glanced at the message. It was from Mom: "I am so hot for you right now."
My dick got stiffer.
Mom returned a few minutes later. I pulled out her chair. She sat and crossed her legs, revealing a long expanse of flesh, letting the hem of her dress creep up, displaying the clasp of her garter.
The hostess appeared with our drinks and placed them on the table. Mother leaned forward, then paused, rewarding me with a look down her cleavage at her braless breasts. I tried not to leer. She leaned back and took a sip of her drink.
As you can imagine, I barely heard the conversation. Mom was driving me crazy. What was occupying my mind were her sleek legs, the curve of her hips, the smooth skin of her cleavage. The waiter returned for our food order, but I hadn't opened the menu. Dad asked for his usual, whatever that was; Mom ordered the trout and I, after glancing at the specials, chose lamb.
Dad started talking. "We've grown apart... New opportunities... Tried our hardest... Difficult decision... We both still love you..." This was it, I was getting the divorce talk.
He noticed my wandering attention. "You okay John?"
"Yeah Dad, it's just big news. I didn't know."
Mom brought her martini to her lips to hide her smirk. She ran a stiletto heel up my leg.
The waitress arrived with our food. Dad continued, saying, as far as I could discern, the same thing over and over in an increasingly leaden manner. About half way through the meal I excused myself. When I got to the bathroom there was another message from Mom: "I want you."
I sent a reply: "Every guy here is staring at you. I'm gonna fuck you til the sun comes up."
When I returned Mom's cell phone was on the table, her hand partially covering it. She was talking to Dad.
"Roger, what time is sunrise tomorrow?"
He looked a bit confused, but answered. "Around 7:00. Why do you ask?"
"With the clouds we had in the sky today, it might be a spectacular sunrise. I thought I'd get up and enjoy it. And with you at the office so early each day, I figured you'd know."
Dad looked at Mom, his chest puffed up at her recognition of how hard he worked, his brow furrowed at a grown woman who cared about sun rises.
Dad resumed: "Its best for all concerned... Don't you doubt it, your Mom's a special lady... This didn't mean he didn't love me... or her... I would always have a home with him..."
I was trying to pay attention, really I was, but Mom kept running her heel up and down my leg and my mind was mostly on ripping her clothes off. Finally Dad excused himself, heading for the facilities.
"Mom, you're driving me nuts."
"Good, what you said earlier, did you mean it?"
In my state of arousal it took a moment to figure out what she meant.
"That I love you?"
She nodded.
"Oh yes Mom, I love you."
Mom later told me my face reflected total sincerity. She took my hand, leaned close to me. Her tone and manner were conversational, calm and dignified. No one watching us would have any idea what we were saying.
"I keep looking at your father and thinking that for twenty years he's been as boring in bed as he is right now. When we had sex, it was at night, him on top, lights off. He never used his mouth on me. I haven't come in a decade.
"When we get home I want you to fuck me like a whore. Not all the time, but some times, and most definitely today," and then, in a tone of childlike sincerity while running a hand up my erection, she added, "If you don't mind?"
I stroked her thigh, running my hand above her stockings. I was trying to frame a response, but all I could think about was her hand on my dick. Finally, I croaked out, "No, not at all. Fuck you like a whore. Got it."
Dad returned, sat down, resumed talking. "People change... Your mother is a wonderful woman, but... I love her, but I'm not in love with... We just grew apart... We had the same fight over and... Relationship has run its course... Best for all concerned..."
The waiter removed our dishes and Mom asked for the dessert menu. Dad wasn't interested, but Mom ordered a Warm Valrhona Chocolate for her and I to share and then excused herself. She returned a few minutes later, promising a surprise. Part one of the surprise appeared seconds later. The waiter arrived with three glasses of champagne.
Mother held up her glass. "I would like to propose a toast. Some years ago Roger came to me and suggested ending to our marriage. I agreed, but asked him to delay the process and to respect certain conditions - ones I thought showed his respect for me. He gave his word and he's kept his word. I propose a toast to Roger for his decency, humanity, honesty."
Dad seemed genuinely moved. As Mom leaned towards me to click our glasses she ran her fingers along my erection and dropped her panties in my lap. I couldn't believe it. She had gone to the bathroom and peeled off her underwear. The panties were black and soft with a delicate embroidery. My cock twitched. I put my napkin in my lap, hid her panties in it, and brought them to my mouth. They were warm and wet. I took a deep sniff; I could smell my mother's pussy, the odor musty and sensual. Mom was as aroused as I. I looked at her. She winked.Dad kept talking while Mom and I shared her dessert. It was thick and creamy and gooey and Mom chewed it slowly and sensuously, running her tongue over her lips, putting on a show that had my dick pulsing in my pants. I needed to get her out of the restaurant and fuck her.
Dad asked for the bill. Mom stared at me, a wicked little smile on her face. We got up to go, Dad leading the way. I followed Mom, but several steps behind, enjoying the view of her hips rocking from side to side as we climbed the stairs. Was she exaggerating the motion, putting on a show for me? I reached into my pocket, ran my fingers through her panties. When she got to the top stair she stopped and looked back to me. The motion dragged up the fabric of the dress, revealing the top of a stocking, one of the clasps holding it up, and the tanned skin of her thigh. She reached for my hand and led me to the front door.
Dad had used the valet parking. While his car was brought to him, the three of us talked. Mom backed into me, pressing her butt to my erection. The movement was subtle, unremarkable, incredibly fucking arousing. When Dad drove off I took Mom's hand in mine and we headed for the car. Once there Mom wrapped her arms around my neck and moved in to me. I stepped forward, our bodies met. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulled her close, rested a hand on her lower back. Our hips swayed together as if we were both listening to the same gentle music.
Her firm breasts were pressed against me, I felt her hard nipples through the thin fabric. My swollen cock strained against the front of my pants. Mom rocked her hips against my penis. I moved my hands to massage her ass through her dress; we continued to sway.
I glanced around. We were alone. Mom's panties were in my pocket. Could I, could we, get away with it? I continued rubbing Mom's butt through her dress while pulling up the fabric, bunching it to her backside. I curled my fingers around and under the hem, touched her naked butt. Mom let out a low moan. I worked on her dress until I had it all the way up. I danced my fingers across the curve of her ass. My hand cupped naked skin crossed by silken garters.
Mom had complained about her reticent, staid husband. Had our flirting in the restaurant, right in front of Dad, fired up her libido as much as it had mine? How far was she willing to go? I slipped my hands down, past her butt, between her thighs. I found drops of moisture; her pussy was leaking juice. Mom lifted her head from my shoulder, looked into my eyes, and brought her lips to my mouth. I kissed her back. Our tongues connected, sending shivers through my body. My mother tasted, well, divine.
Mom and I made out. She spread her legs. I reached across her ass and between her legs to her pussy. She shuddered, moaning in my mouth, "Unnnggghhh."
Thank god Mom was in heels, only a few inches shorter than I. I stretched and slipped two fingers inside her, fucking her from behind. My other hand moved up her side and cupped a braless breast. Mom pressed against me, her eyes shut; I massaged her breast and fingered her pussy. Her breathing became more rapid. When I pushed a finger inside her she bit my lower lip. I glanced back at the street - we were alone - and spun the two of us around so her back was to the car. Mom opened her eyes; they were filled with lust and desire. I pulled my fingers from her pussy and slid them down her front, lifted the hem of her dress, and ran a finger along her hot wet pussy lips. I slid it, then another, inside her. She moaned.
I no longer cared who saw us. I slipped my other hand inside the top of her dress to cup bare tit-flesh. Mom was writhing. I took her nipple between my fingers, squeezed it, pushed a third finger inside her cunt. Mom's breathing increased, her knees weak, she squeezed her thighs on my hand.
"Oh John, you're going to make me cum."
Her voice was loud and wanton and obscene. I looked around. We were alone.
I coated my thumb with her juice and moved it to her clit. "Come for me Mom. I want you to come for me."
She snorted, "Unggghh! Oh yes, keep it up, keep it up," and then it was here. She went rigid, then wailed, "Oh, God, OH GOD JOHN!!" as her body shook in my arms. She buried her face in my neck.
I continued rubbing Mom's pussy and her body relaxed, then tensed as a second, third, and fourth orgasm followed the first. I was ready to keep going, but Mom finally took hold of my wrist, pulled my fingers from her pussy, drew them to her mouth. She smiled, a wicked little grin, and swallowed the fingers, sucking and licking her juice from them. When done she licked her lips and smiled again, this one denoting satisfaction.
"Son, I think it's time you took me home. I need your cock."
I opened the door and Mom stepped in. With one foot in the car and the other on the pavement, she pulled up the front of her dress, baring her naked pussy and drawing a finger across the lips before bringing her other leg into the car. At that moment our luck ran out. A dude, about my age, came around the corner. Mom didn't see him, but I did. He flashed me the thumb's up.
Closing the door behind her, eager to get home, I scooted around the car. Mom was even less patient than I. She had spread her legs apart. I had a clear view of her stockings and straps. Her pussy were soaked; the skin glistened.
I backed the car out. As we drove by the restaurant Mom plunged two fingers into her pussy, and pulled the lever, dropping her seat to the horizontal. She pushed aside her dress top, squeezed a breast, and started moaning, "Oh baby, I can't wait til we get home and you fuck me and make Mommy come. I need you inside me."
If she was trying to inspire me, she was succeeding. I also almost drove the car into a ditch.
Mom bolted up. "Oh baby, am I distracting you? You need to pay attention to the road."
She leaned over and kissed me. "All I could think about when your father was talking was how much I wanted you to make love to me. You make me so frigging horny."
She reached down and stroked my erection, its outline evident in my pants.
"I guess you're horny too. Let's see if Mama can help."
Her hands were in my lap, freeing my hard-on. I kept my eyes on the road. I felt cool air, then I felt my mother's warm breath, then I felt a wet mouth wrap itself around the tip of my dick. I managed to drive home without mishap, although it was at times difficult - I had one hand on the wheel and the other on my mother's head. When we pulled into the driveway Mom didn't notice.
"Mom, you want to go inside?"
My cock was lodged in her mouth. I got a, "Uunnnnnhh hhhhuuuuhhh," before Mom pulled her head up and looked around. Drops of saliva spotted her chin.
"Oh, we're home."
I opened my door, scooted around the car, one hand holding up my pants, and found Mom just stepping out. I picked her up over my shoulder, banged the car door shut with my hip, and sprinted through the front door to the bedroom, where I dropped her onto the bed. She landed hard, harder than I intended, and bounced, laughing all the time. Her hair was a wild mess, her dress open, her legs and pussy fully exposed. I tore off my clothes.
Mom stood and calmly took off her dress. Wearing only the garter belt, stockings, and heels, she turned in a slow circle.
"So, what do you think? Does Mama dress up well?"
"Mom, you're stunning."
She took my chin in her hand and kissed me. "My sex life has been rather, shall we say, drab. I'd like to explore. Would you like to explore with me?"
"Yeah, I'd love to Mom. I love you so much."
Mom sat on the side of the bed and raised a leg. I removed a shoe and rolled the stocking down her leg. She giggled when it got stuck on her foot; my limited experience with these things evident. I did better with the other leg. She stood. I took off her lace garter belt while she looked over my shoulder at the full length mirror. She liked watching us, naked mother and naked son. I looked too. The image of the two of us, it seemed right. I took her in my arms and we kissed, learning, exploring, tasting each other's mouth.
When done I cradled her body to mine, wishing this moment could last forever. I looked at her, seeing in her eyes the same love I felt for her. While still partially a phantasm, the knowledge that my mother loved me as I loved her was becoming increasingly real. Mom saw the look in my eyes.
"You okay?"
"Yes, everything is perfect. Its just so amazing, you and I, together, lovers."
"Good, and yes it is." She kissed me. "Now lay on the bed. After last night I owe you one."
I stuffed a pillow behind my head and rested my hands on my chest. I wanted to watch. Mom nested between my thighs and leaned forward, placing her hands on mine. Her breasts grazed my erection.
"Mama is going to give you everything you need." She pulled my hands to her face, kissed them, pushed them to the side.
And then it happened. She lowered her head and, held my cock with one hand, traced its veins with her tongue, her soft lips brushing firm flesh. After coating my shaft with saliva, she curled her tongue, dragged it over every valley and ridge, kept her eyes on mine. She cupped the side of my penis and kissed up its length.
I was in awe, watching her gorgeous face between my legs, her toned body, her beautiful pert breasts; her nipples thick and hard with desire.
Mom continued to taste my flesh. She opened her mouth and trailed her tongue over my shaft, her hot breath warming the spit covered tool. She scooted back, spit into her hand, and, holding my dick by its base, twisted her hand in a corkscrew motion.
"Oh god Mom, fuck yes."
She slid her hand, which was slick with pre-cum and saliva, up my shaft and grasped the cock-head, curling her fingers over the head, pressing the heel of her hand to my frenulum. She began working my blood engorged tool.
As she did so she dipped her head to my ball sac and sucked one of the orbs past her lips, into her mouth. She moved from one to the other, suckling on my balls. Mom moaned deeply, sending vibrations through my scrotum, throughout my being. I panted, struggled to breathe. She popped my balls from her mouth and greedily lapped the ball sac. With her nose pushed into the now sticky sac, her tongue slithered behind it, tickled my perineum,
"Fuck mom, you're incredible."
Mom kissed the center of my balls and opened her mouth, stretching the skin, pressing the flat of her tongue to it, wiggling it around.
"Ohmigawd."
Mom pulled back and grinned, clamping her fist around the base of my cock.
"How am I doing champ? It's been awhile."
Before I could answer Mom circled her tongue around the engorged head of my penis, then tried to push her tongue into my cockslit. I moaned and shuddered.
She answered her own question. "I guess I'm doing okay."
Mom spit onto my cockhead. I watched the saliva drip down its length. She spit again, opened her mouth wide, removed her hand - she did not want anything to impede my view - and lowered her face over my dick, frantically licking my cock as it disappeared into her face. It hit the back of her mouth. Her lips sealed around my tool.
"Oh fuck yes."
She sucked, her cheeks sunken, her tongue swirling around my flesh. I melted into the mattress.
Mom bobbed lightly up and down, sometimes forcing her head down, testing her limits. She kept her eyes on me; she later told me how she loved the blissful expression on my face. She moaned into my flesh and I moaned in response, letting her know I loved what she was doing to me. Her silky sweet tongue never stopped swirling over my tool. Several times she reared up, caught her breath, let some spittle drool from her mouth to my cock, and dove back down. She loved the obscenity of it all; the dirty sound of my cock driving into her face filled the bedroom.
And although, excepting her one unhappy experience in Burlington, it must have been years since Mom had given head, she was relentless. I was moaning in delight, clawing the bedspread.
Mom saw the effect she was having. She pulled off my tool, licked the head, and said, "How about it dear, does Mama know how to suck dick?"
I nodded yes, but she didn't waited for the answer. She let some more spit drool from her mouth and pushed the liquid down my shaft with her tongue. Her hand returned to my balls, massaging, tugging the orbs. She licked me hard, like a starving woman, then dropped her mouth over my shaft, swallowing more than half my length. Her satin tongue ran all over it. She rocked her body forward, forcing another half-inch into her face. Drool crept from the corners of her mouth.
She pulled her mouth off my dick, licked its length, and opened wide to swallow me again, caressing my balls with her fingers as she devoured me, her lips puckered around my tool, suctioning me with preternatural intensity. I lay a hand on her head.
Mom ripped her mouth off me. Gasping, smiling, she took a moment to catch her breath, and asked again, "Well, how am I doing?"
I looked at her face. Saliva coated her cheeks and mouth. "Fricking incredible."
She smiled. "How about this?"
Mom pressed her chest to my shaft, squeezing her tits to my dick. I gulped, fascinated by the sight of my cock sliding between her breasts. I had once suckled on those things. She increased the pace; her hair bounced on her shoulders. She paused, dropped a fresh string of spit into her cleavage, and resumed driving my shaft between her boobs.
Her tone was innocent, with filthy undertones. "Do I make your cock feel good?"
"Fuck yes."
She continued; I felt a rumble in my balls. Then, in one quick motion, my cock was back in her mouth, her hand on my testicles.
I could take no more. I thought, does Mom swallow? I said, "OH fuck Mom, gonna cum."
Mom moaned around the cock crammed between her lips. She looked at me, her eyes begged for my seed. Her fingertips stroked my ball sac and pressed my perineum, massaging my prostate from the outside. I bucked, every muscle in my body tensed. My dick had never been harder. Mom squeezed my balls again and my orgasm consumed me. Semen surged the length of my cock, exploded from the tip, filled Mom's mouth. She captured every drop while her tongue swabbed my cockhead. Mom looked up again; her eyes shone with wicked desire, then they shone with love. She eased my cock from her mouth, stretched her jaw, and took one last lick from balls to tip.
She sat back, smiling sweetly, watching me catch my breath. She caressed my thighs.
"I love you."
I was so focused on my body - it felt so good - that it took me a second to respond: "That was amazing. I love you."
I extended my hand, pulled her towards me, ran my hand though her hair. She nuzzled her cheek against my hand and lay next to me. I looked into those entrancing green eyes and trailed a hand over the curve of her hips to her breasts. She smiled, bit her lip. I rubbed my palm back and forth on her nipples.
We lay for awhile, content. Them Mom picked her head up, supporting it on her hand.
"You know, I meant it earlier, I want to be fucked, fucked like a whore."
"Okay, but I've never fucked a whore."
She reached for my penis. "I'm sure we'll figure it out. I know it's our first date and I don't want you to think I'm easy, but I have this fantasy about being tied up. You ever tie anyone to a bed and fuck her."
"No."
Nonetheless, my cock was getting hard in her hand. "This little fellow seems like it might want to try."
She squeezed the shaft and continued. "I've thought about it for years, but I've never trusted anyone enough to do it," then adding in a facetious tone, "You interested? Wanna tie your Mommy up?"
My rock hard penis had already answered the question. "Yes."
"Good. Your father left some old ties in the closet. We'll use those. It's time he contributed to my sex life.'
I got out of bed and found the ties. When I returned I reached between her legs, pushed a finger into her slit. She was steaming, wet, sloppy, soaked. She was ready. I kissed her soft sweet lips, centered her on the bed, stroked her face with the back of my hand. She wiggled into place. I kissed her.
"Okay, let's go. Tie me down son, enjoy my body."
I brought Mom's hands to the headboard's railing. She arched her neck and watched as I bound her wrists. Then I trailed my fingertips along her arm. She squirmed, just a bit. I ran my fingers up her neck and through her hair. Mom, still a tad nervous, nibbled on her lips. I moved to the foot of the bed, secured her legs. She whimpered, then relaxed. I tenderly kissed each red painted toenail, then wrapped my hands around her right foot, massaged it, left a trail of kisses over the top of her foot and up her shin. Mom watched, eyes wide, unsure of what would happen next. When I kissed her knee she caught her breath. When I used my tongue to explore the back of her knee, which turned out to be very sensitive, she panted. I lifted her leg and nibbled along the back of her thigh and dragged my tongue to the crease of her hip bone.
Mom squirmed and stretched, pulling on the ties. I kissed her pussy. The aroma was strong; it tickled my nostrils. I dipped my face into her sex, immersed myself in her.
Mom moaned, but I decided to delay the attack on her pussy. Instead I gave her left foot and leg the same treatment I'd given the right. When done Mom squirmed, flexing her feet and toes. Her pussy glistened in the sunlight coming through the window; it had swollen, the interior pink lips had opened for inspection. Attempting to entice me, she wiggled her hips.
I straddled her prone body, kissing up and down her stomach, taking my time, teasing her, feasting on her. She fidgeted; she moaned; she stretched her legs, dug her heels into the mattress, arched her back, sank her head into the pillow, offered me her pussy. I licked along the curve of her rib cage and caressed her sides with my fingertips. She nibbled her lips when I kissed along the bottom of her breasts. I trailed my tongue to and across her areolas, then, just barely, flicked her nipples. Mom gasped, writhing in sensual undulations.
This was fun. I kissed my way to her other breast, suckled her nipple into my mouth, held it between my teeth, lashed it with my tongue. Mom trembled, struggling to breathe. My mouth traveled back and forth, from tit to tit. Her eyes fluttered closed; I enjoyed making her squirm and wiggle. I'd nibble a nipple, then switch to the other, munching on my mother's most splendid breasts. Mom groaned and arched her back, trying to feed me her boobs. She pulled her wrists taut against the ties.
Between heavy breaths Mom whined, "You're enjoying this son, aren't you."
"You're not," I mumbled into her breast.
"Yeah, okay, I am, but please, please, my pussy."
My hands on her knees, I pushed her legs open and rubbed up the soft flesh of her inner thighs, approaching, but not quite reaching, her pussy. Finally, as she let out an especially ardent moan, I placed a single finger at the base of her pussy. "You mean here, you want me to touch you here?"
I drew the finger upward, along the length of her pussy lips. She was soaking wet, ready.
"Oh god yes."
"I need to consider the proposition." I lowered my head again, taking little bites all over her firm tits. I pressed another finger to her sex, but did not push inside.
"Please."
She lifted her hips to my finger. I withdrew my hand.
Mom laughed, kicked her heels on the bed. "You."
I kissed my way back down her tummy, pushed her thighs aside, opened her up. I was staring at my mother's cunt. How exactly did big old me come out of that tiny sweet hole? It was beautiful, so was she. It was time.
I placed my hands on her pussy lips, pulled them aside, and gazed at the exposed pink flesh. She was soaked. I trailed my tongue over her slit. She had a sweet light taste. Mom moaned and, when my tongue reached her clit, cooed. She closed her eyes, focused on the pleasure I was bringing her. I stretched the skin above her clit, exposed the nub, sucked it into my mouth, french kissed it, caressed it, slapped it with my tongue. I dragged my tongue, first the rough top, then the soft underside, over it; the first got a growl, the second a purr. Mom lifted her hips into my face.
I and caught her clit between my teeth. Mom yelped. I moved my mouth back down to her cunt hole. She was leaking juice. I licked her pussy, nectar flowed into my mouth like a small stream. Mom's chest heaved with heavy breaths.
I licked the opening of her cunt, licked the warm inner flesh, licked the folds and crevices of her labia. I captured the labial lips between my teeth. Mom was delicious and I became ravenous, gorging myself, feeding on her cunt like it was ambrosia. Her fluids stained my face; her sweet musk soaked into my skin and flowed into my nose. I flattened out my tongue and took decadent slow laps from the bottom of her pussy, over every curve, to her clit. Mom was wonderfully responsive; feline in her motion. I adored the soft moans when I licked sensitive spots and the sharp groans when I furiously flicked her clit.
She was getting close. She twisted, pulled on the ties, let out a series of high pitched hoots. I backed off, seeking to draw out the experience, returning to slow gentle licks over the face of her vagina, then dipping my tongue into her puddle of pussy juice. I walked my hand to her breast, covered the flesh, loving the feel of her thick hard nipple.
"Oh fuck son, so good."
Her pussy was on fire. I ran my tongue over every fold, into every crevice. Mom clenched her fists, tightened her legs, yanked against the restraints. I rolled her nipples between my fingers while lashing her swollen clit with my tongue.
Mom was delirious. She howled, "Oh my goodness son, you're going to make me come. I'm gonna come."
She ground her pelvis into my face.
Then I stopped.
Her eyes flew open. "What are you doing?"
I ran my hand to the other breast, pinching the nipple.
"Trust me," I said.
Mom smirked, looked at the ties, and said, "Do I have a choice?" She closed her eyes. I nudged two fingers inside her; fluid leaked out. I pushed deeper. She squealed.
I returned my mouth to her clitoris while pumping my fingers in and out of her. Her pussy walls clenched, she rocked her hips.
"Oh son, I love it, it feels so good."
I groaned into her, sending vibrations down to her toes. She shuddered with every flick of my tongue, then gasped, her eyelids fluttered, her cunt gripped my fingers. I was important, powerful. I was the one who'd push her up the mountain to the ecstasy at its peak.
I curled my fingers inside her, located the g-spot, and dragged my fingertips along her pussy walls, scraping the flesh. Mom squealed and shuddered. No one would ever be this patient and careful, no one would ever make love to her with my passion and devotion. I had been born of this woman for this purpose, to be her lover.
Mom whimpered, "I can't take it anymore." Her muscles tensed and trembled.
She was wrong. She could.
I pulled back. Mom gasped, squirmed, tried to regain contact. I blew cool air over her pussy and then, ever so lightly, kissed her womanhood. When my lips reached her clit she could control her anxiety no longer.
"Please, please, please, make me come."
Other than to continue my kisses I didn't answer. Mom's face was crimson with need; her chest heaved. I slipped my tongue in her fuck slit, flicked the folds. I nibbled her pussy lips, sucking air in though my nose. Her scent was divine.
I returned to her pussy lips and Mom raised her ass, pushing against my slow studious tongue. Every nerve in her body was lit up, inflamed. Her nipples were swollen. Still I said nothing.
Mom pled, "Please, please, I'm begging you."
I returned my hand to her breast. She winced; her nipples so hard and needy that my touch had bordered on the painful. I buried my face in her sex, smearing her nectar into my skin. Mom moaned, grateful when my tongue returned to her pulsating clitoris. I drew circles around it; I lapped across it; I crammed three fingers into her cunt.
Mom had been reduced to the core of her carnality. She howled, "Oh goodness, thank you," pulled against the ties binding her to the bed, reveling in the feeling of helplessness. She whimpered with every flick of my tongue, every pump of my hand. Her body jerked, her breaths shallow and rapid.
"Please, oh god, this time please make me come. I've gotta come. I can't handle it anymore. I need to come!"
She writhed and quivered. She arched her back; she rubbed her head into the pillow; her toes clenched and released. I didn't stop. I pushed my fingers into her, then dug them out. I pressed my knuckles to her pubic bone. I sucked her clit into my mouth, pummeled it with my tongue, gorged myself on it. I caught a nipple with my fingers. Her face was flush; her lips quivered; sheer desire consumed her.
Then it came. Her cunt convulsed around my fingers; her hips bucked against my face. I sucked hard on her clit, continuing as an orgasm washed over her, slamming her to the ground. She shouted, in a voice shrill and intense, "You're so good to me, you've always have been, I love you, yes, oh fucking yessssssssssssssssssssssssssss. OHMIGOD SO, SO GOOD SON, FFFUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK, CCCOOOOOMMMMINNNNGGGGGGGG!"
She was bucking so hard I couldn't keep her clit in my mouth. I pulled back, holding a tit with one hand, finger fucking her with the other. Juice gushed around my fingers. She twisted and turned, bit down on her lip, filled the room with obscene animal moans as she rode the waves of orgasmic bliss. I grinned. I loved watching her quake and quiver in tremors of delight.
Mom gradually calmed down, took short breaths, tried to recalibrate after the hurricane that had whirled through her. I was quiet, knowing I was the one who'd done this for her, that only I could offer her this kind of serene pleasure. For reasons unclear, my mother was my soul-mate, I hers.
Mom finally opened her eyes. A smile illuminated her face. "Hey." She took another breath. "I never knew it could be like this."
"Hey beautiful." I touched her hip. "You enjoy yourself?"
"Oh yes. Very much. Unbelievable. You like eating pussy? I hope so, I'm gonna want to do this a whole bunch. Enjoy myself? That would be a yes. A big yes."
She noticed the juice smeared on my face.
"I made you mess."
"Yes, you did. And yes, I loved eating your pussy. You're gonna make my face a mess a lot."
Mom looked at the foot of the bed, then to my penis. "Could you untie my legs? Then, fuck me?"
I slid to the foot of the bed and did so. My cock, which had partially deflated, returned to full staff. Mom licked her lips.
"Son, it's time to take what yours. There's a condom in the top dresser drawer."
I slipped it on, crawled onto the bed. Mom spread her legs. I straddled her, positioned my dick at the entrance to her sex.
"I love you Mom."
"I love you." Then she stopped.
"Are you okay?'
She looked like she might cry.
"It's just that, until now, I didn't know what that word meant. I'm being silly. I love you son. Now before I start wailing, fuck me, fuck me hard."
She was wet and hot and welcoming and her pussy was made for my cock. And then I was fully buried inside her. Mom squealed, pulled on the ties binding her arms, raised her head, dropped it back to the pillow. She moved her ankles so they were on top of mine.
At first I just lay there, getting used to being inside her. Then I said, "Mom, you're so tight, so soft."
"Son, I love the way you feel inside me. You fill me perfectly."
I moved forward, got on my knees. Mom pulled her knees back towards her chest. I moved her feet to my shoulders. In this position I could look into her eyes and my hands had easy access to her body, and her clit. I thrust, starting slowly, but picked up the pace, fucking her deep and hard. Mom matched her movements to mine; we were a song sung in harmony. Her cunt walls sucked me inside, as if begging for more, as if her body wanted to absorb me. Mom moaned, rolled her hips. I varied my motion, shifting from left to right, up and down, side to side, wanting to visit every corner of her slick soft sweet interior flesh.
Mom grabbed the bed rail and pushed back into me.
"Mom, I love you."
"Son, I love you too. I belong to you, now and forever. I'm your mother, your lover, your sweet lady, but I'm also your fuck-mate, your slut, your whore, the place you put your cock, leave your cum, your what-ever-you-desire. I want to be all those things, to be everything you want."
My cock twitched; my cum boiled in my balls. I couldn't believe my sweet mother was talking like this. I thrust into her hard, like an animal. Her tits bounced on her chest; the walls of her cunt enveloped me with silky fiery heat.
Mom continued the barrage of words. "I'm your whore, your mother, your lady-love, your slut. I'm whatever-you-want-me-to-be, any fantasy, any dream, no matter how filthy, how sick, I'm it."
Reaching for her shoulders, using them as leverage, I pushed into her, banging into her cervix, approaching the place I'd been conceived. Mom squealed, held tight to the headboard, shoved herself into me.
"I'm fuck flesh. Your fuck flesh."
"Are you my good girl?"
"Good girl, fuck no. Best girl, only girl, nasty girl, bad girl, fuck girl."
Hips rocking, fluids merging, bodies banging into each other, I held on for dear life.
"I live for your pleasure. I'm yours, forever. Fuck me, fuck your wicked, nasty, filthy, whore mother."
We were covered with sweat; the air was sticky and hot; the bedroom reeked of sex. Mom had spent twenty years with a man who made love at night, with the lights off; she had a whole lot of catching up to do. She wanted to feel cherished and loved, but she also wanted someone who lusted for her, craved her, obsessed about her. She wanted someone to ram into her with all his strength. She wanted my hands rough, grabbing her, taking what I needed.
"I'm your nasty girl. You love me because I'm sweet and fun and funny and because I'm a slut for you and you alone."
I let go of her shoulders. One hand clumsily groped her breasts, kneading the flesh, tugging, twisting her nipples. The other hand found her clit, moving in firm circles.
"Fuck yes, that's what I am," she wailed. "Your fuck-princess."
My hands were everywhere, molesting, touching, caressing, while I drove my erection into her. I dug my nails into her hips, pulled her hard to me. I pounded her, her body bounced on the bed. The bed creaked. Mom was unstoppable, driving her sweet cunt over my cock, gasping each time we slammed together.
"Are you ready, ready for your son's cum?"
"Oh god yes, give it to me. I need it. I want it. Fucking give it to me. I have to have your cum. Drown me in it."
Mom flexed the muscles buried deep in her cunt.
"Give it to me, fuck your Mama. Fuck me like your slut, love me like your queen."
"My god Mom, I love you."
She wrapped her legs around my waist and yanked me into her.
"Fill Mama with your sperm. I want it so fucking bad. Please, oh please, I need it."
I lunged forward, buried myself in her. My abdomen tensed: I growled; my cock erupted; intense joy flooded by body. My balls emptied inside her and her cunt clamped down. Then she screamed, consumed by her own orgasm. Her body torqued and twisted and her mind was swept away, taken somewhere else, where it floated in the warm glow of sexual ecstasy. She was, for the moment, unconscious of everything, even her own moans, except for the perfect pleasure vibrating through her.
I stayed deep within her, letting our juices blend together. She drifted back to consciousness. I watched, loving the look on her face, and then her lips moved. I bent my ear to her mouth. She whispered, "I love you."
I sat back on my knees, withdrew, let our mix drip from her cunt to her, now our, bed. I missed being inside her.
I lay next to her and said, "I love you." She kissed my cheek. I untied her wrists, kissed her face
That was Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. We stayed in all day Friday and Saturday. We made love tenderly and hard, we made love standing, sitting, lying down, we made love in every room in the house, we were sore but made love anyway. We got up early Sunday and on our way to the airport stopped at our favorite spot at the Wright Environmental Education Center, a beautiful glen by the river. I rolled off her, satiated, and peeled off my condom. Mom said, "I made an appointment to see Dr. Agaston about birth control."
"Are you sure. I'm happy to use these things."
"I'm sure. I'm going to miss you."
"Well, I've been thinking. I could transfer to Georgia State. We could be together."
Mom was a step ahead of me. "I've been thinking too and this is what I think. Ever since our trip I've been looking for jobs in Vermont. A position came open last week in the Department of Forests, Parks and Recreation. I'm perfect for it. I want to apply. If I get it we could be together. I could go the university part-time, get my Masters in Plant and Soil Science."
Mom, using her maiden name, got the interview and when Mom got the interview, she got the job. She moved to Burlington in January. Yeah, it was cold. My roommate saw little of me second semester. He was happy; his girlfriend moved into our room.
The divorce became final during the summer. Not unexpectedly, Ms. D'Angelo sold the bank and moved to California, where Dad knew no one and she'd have him all to herself. Over the years my occasional visits were short and unpleasant. Ms. D'Angelo had a way of making one feel unwelcome. I saw Dad once or twice a year. He showed only a passing interest in my life.
* * * *
I had told Mom about studying her body when she went swimming at the Duck Brook Shelter. During my sophomore year we decided to return there in the middle of the week, when no one would be around. We'd skinny dip, make love in and by the water.
We arrived late in the afternoon. A family, three children and their parents, were in the water, laughing, splashing, cavorting. Mom and I sat on a rock and watched. I took her hand in mine, she lay her head on my shoulder.
I said, "Well, not that I'm glad there here, but its hard to build up too much resentment when you see kids having so much fun."
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
That night the seven of us shared a campfire and meal. They were real nice people and excellent cooks. The children were boisterous, bright, engaging. Despite our aborted plan, Mom seemed delighted by their presence and they took to Mom, playing with her, laughing until their bellies hurt. When Mom and I crawled into our tent, cuddling together, she said, "They're leaving first thing in the morning. We'll still have the chance to get it on."
"How do you know that?"
"Janey," the wife, "told me. It appears that before they had the kids they came up here, in the middle of the week, all the time."
"Are we that obvious?"
"It appears so."
They left shortly after sunrise. Mom and I, naked, took a swim and made love on the beach. As we hiked out I thought about Mom and the kids and their affinity for her. I'd assumed Mom, now forty, would not want any more children, but we had not really talked about it. So I asked. Mom, it turned out, was concerned that at age nineteen I was not ready for a family. When we got back to Burlington we discarded the birth control. She was one month pregnant when, at the end of the summer, we flew to Las Vegas, returning with wedding rings. Everyone assumed we'd married; we didn't bother to correct them.
Mom, who finished second in her Masters program, was selected to deliver the students' remarks at the graduation ceremony. Standing before the microphone, her distended belly affirming our child's birth was but a month away, Mom was, as always, funny, charming, engaging. We named our daughter Florence. Our son was born two years later, during my second year at Vermont Law School.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone