I was just a few months past my 22nd birthday when my mother and I became lovers. Having recently been discharged after serving four years as an Army paratrooper, I had returned to my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, and also to my childhood home, to begin building a life in the civilian world. Living at home gave me the much-needed opportunity to save money — I had spent pretty frivolously during my military service, and would need several months of steady paychecks to get on my feet.
Mom was glad to have me. All three of her children (I’m the middle child, and the only son) were grown and moved out. Both of my sisters had married while I was overseas, and mom missed having a houseful. In truth, I was always my mother’s favorite — I wouldn’t say this to either of my sisters, but then, I wouldn’t tell them what I’m about to tell you, either!
I have to say that mom had adjusted very well to me becoming an adult. She simply asked that I be respectful of her home, and that I phone her if I, as she put it, ‘got lucky and wasn’t coming home until the next day’. Yeah, it was an agreeable situation. And to be honest, it was the first time in my life that I ever had my beloved mom to myself!
We shared household responsibilities such as cleaning and cooking, and I was happy to contribute to our household. It was so nice to be cared for — for the first time in years, I was regularly being fed all my childhood favorites! I realized pretty early how lucky I was, and wanted to make sure mom knew how much I appreciated her. One night, after she had served my all-time favorite meal, we both stood to clear the table. I put my hand on my mom’s arm, signaling that she should leave the dishes.
“I’ve got these tonight, mom,” I said. “You sit down and turn on the TV.” I stepped close to her, drawing her into a deep embrace. “Thank you,” I said into the top of her head, “for everything. I feel so welcome here. I wasn’t sure what coming home would be like, and you’ve made it wonderful.” I kissed the top of her head (I’d reached my full height of just under 6′, and mom was all of 5’6″.
She had tears in her eyes as she pulled back and looked into mine. “Min gode pojke,” she said, reverting to the Swedish epithet of my early life. “Min gode pojke” (my good boy), “I am your mother, and this will always be your home. With you here again, I’m happier now than I’ve been in years.” I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers, the same kiss we’d shared as long as I can remember. Firm and tender at the same time, our mouths together, and lasting for several seconds. Another hug, squeezing her firmly against me, before releasing her.
“Go,” I said. “I’ll put on some tea and bring you a cup when it’s ready.” She pulled me close again, briefly squeezing me as I had her, before thanking me, letting go and settling into the family room.
*****
I suppose some background might be in order. Like so many other children, my parents divorced when I was young. I was 11 when my father moved out after 16 years of marriage and three children. This was in the mid- to late-1970s, when divorce was still a word whispered.
My parents did not have an amicable divorce. Frankly, I don’t think either of them ever spoke a civil word about the other as long as they lived. Mom got custody and dad got visitation. It was always strange when we went with dad. He had traveled a lot for work during their marriage, and preferred to spend his time in the bars rather than at home, so he really seemed a stranger to me.
He soon was living with another woman (to their credit, their marriage lasted the rest of dad’s life — I guess he eventually found the right woman).
Money was tight after the separation, with mom working three part-time jobs for several years. She hadn’t worked during their marriage, and returning to the workforce couldn’t have been easy.
Eventually, she managed to get back full-time with the phone company, her employer before her marriage, and things got a bit easier financially, though we were a decidedly working-class family.
I started working illegally the summer I was 13, hauling cinder blocks for a friend’s dad, who owned a small construction company. The work was grueling, but handing cinder blocks up overhead repeatedly for 8 hours a day put me in great shape to play football that fall.
I’d always been close with my mom, as so many of us with a stay-at-home parent tend to be. Mom was the one consistent presence in my life, and was like deity to me: the source of my life, my provider, my healer, and my protector.
I remember a line from the movie The Crow: ‘Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.’ That line still evokes fond memories of my mother. Can there be a love purer than that between mother and child?
I was a pretty good kid, in hindsight. I got good grades (honor society all throughout high school), was active in sports and other activities, and had a path for my life planned in the Army at an early age. Sure, I liked to party a bit — beer and weed, mostly, but nothing that ever caused any legal trouble.
A lot of that, I credit to my mom. Ours was a “you’re going to do it anyway, so I’d rather you and your friends did it here” house. Mom was, in many ways, surprisingly permissive, though in other ways, she could be surprisingly rigid, too. She was a product of her own upbringing, I suppose.
I remember once during my senior year in high school, mom walked in on me while I was masturbating to a porn mag. I swore that my bedroom door was locked, but it suddenly swung open and she stepped in to the sight of me laying on my bed, pleasuring myself. I quickly tried to cover up and remove the magazine from her sight.
She ducked out quickly and closed the door without a word, but later told me that I shouldn’t touch myself, that it was wrong. I was confused by this; snooping in my mom’s closet years earlier, I had found a book of Scandinavian erotica. I had seen mom on multiple occasions, laying in her bed under the covers, reading the book, which was called Love 1 & 2. I found it exciting to think that mom read, and was probably aroused by, the stories. I couldn’t understand, though, why she would read such things without giving herself release.
When she told me masturbating was wrong, I remember feeling that I’d let her down, that I’d somehow been bad. In my own way, even as a teenager and into my adulthood, I guess I never stopped wanting my mom’s approval.
On the other end of the spectrum, mom didn’t have any sort of nudity prohibitions. Many times, while she was bathing, she’d call for me to bring her something. Because of this, mom was the first woman I ever saw nude. She made no effort to cover herself up, and I was able to see her full brunette bush and firm C-cup breasts, tipped with light brown nipples that were usually erect, and appreciate her slender body, relaxed in the tub. While I stood there, she would talk as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
As I developed sexually, I would try not to let my new-found interest in her body show. Is there anything as compelling as the first experiences of nudity with the opposite sex? I began to initiate attempts to see mom nude; even if she didn’t ask for anything, I’d poke my head in, asking if she might like a cup of tea while she bathed, all the while gaining the mental images of my lovely mother, naked and dripping wet in the tub.
As you can imagine, there were many times that I pictured mom as I masturbated. Did I feel guilty over this ‘wrong’ behavior, and fantasizing about my mom? In a way, yes. I always wanted to be her ‘gode pojke’, her good boy. But I also didn’t want to change what I was doing. I could keep a secret.
*****
After returning from the Army, I got a job working for a fairly large local employer. Dozens of young adults in our 20s worked there. As such, it was very common for co-workers to become romantically or sexually involved. That was the case with Wendy. One Friday night, as was a typical custom, a group of us would meet for drinks after work.
This night was no different than others; some folks would stay for a while, drifting off to whatever else they did on the weekends. Eventually, only three of us were left: Wendy, another woman, and me. Wendy asked me to dance at one point in the evening, which actually surprised me. Since we’d met, she’d been standoffish toward me. I thought perhaps I’d done something to give her a bad opinion of me, but didn’t quite know how to breach the divide I sensed.
Happily, I’d misread things with Wendy, as she showed by grinding on me on the dance floor. Not flirtatiously, not in a ‘I’m young and sexy and like to tease’ way — Wendy dirty danced with intention, pressing one leg between mine as we danced, sliding up and down against my cock, which hardened immediately. She left no doubt in my mind how this night would end.
Wendy was a cute blonde, a little chubby, with perky tits and, as I could see as we danced, nipples so big they were visible through her bra when they were erect. We spent several songs pressed together on the floor, crotch to crotch, then me directly behind Wendy, my jean-clad erection rubbing up and down over her full, plump ass as she ground back against me.
After we returned to the table, Wendy was very matter-of-fact, not showing any indication of what we’d been up to. I guessed that she was discrete, not wanting our co-worker to know what was taking place between us. As soon as our co-worker left, Wendy pulled me close and kissed me. I slid my tongue between her lips and our mouths expressed what our bodies had been saying as we danced.
“I like you, and I want to spend the night with you,” Wendy said. I asked her what would happen on Monday when we were at work. “Hi, Jim”, Wendy replied with a shrug.
You know, I really appreciate a woman who can accept sex simply for the sake of pleasure. I was turned on and looked forward to fucking this horny girl. I asked if she wanted to go to her place. She told me she couldn’t, as she lived with her dad. I told her we could go to my place. We left, and she followed me in her car. The club we had been at was less than two miles from my house, so it wasn’t long before we were enjoying drinks in my living room.
“Who all lives here?” Wendy asked, looking around at the room, which definitely did not look like it was furnished by a 22-year-old guy. I told her it was my mom’s house, and that I was staying here until I could get my own place. She asked if it was cool that she was there. I smiled and told her “You haven’t met my mom. This is no problem.”
Wendy accepted that, and we headed to my room, which was at the opposite end of the house from my mom’s master bedroom, so we had two bedrooms between us. I soon found out that Wendy was very vocal during sex, especially when she climaxed. Not so much words as just unusual sounds. I never had to wonder if anything I did with Wendy worked for her. Her sex sounds were a dead giveaway.
Even our first night together, she made enough noise that I held my palm over her mouth to silence her, thinking she could wake my mom. Kinky little minx that she was, the restraint turned her on even more, and her noises got louder and louder. Wendy and I fucked three times that night, and I deposited each load into her eager cunt. I enjoyed her plump curves, as well as her pussy, which got tighter and tighter each time she came — and Wendy had a greater capacity for orgasm than any woman I’d known to that point!
When I woke the following morning, I was the only one in the bed. My first thought was that Wendy left during the early morning hours to get out without my mom seeing her. No big deal. I didn’t mind at all the thought that Wendy used me for sex and took off without a word. I don’t think most young men would mind!
I slipped on some shorts and went out to get morning coffee. When I got to the kitchen, I found mom and Wendy drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes while they chatted like old friends. That was a first for me. This was shaping up to be a pretty entertaining hookup!
Wendy was back to being pretty matter-of-fact, and I followed her lead. She finished her coffee and said she needed to be going. I walked her to her car (mom raised me to be a gentleman) and watched her pull away. Returning to the house, I poured a refill and sat down in the barstool across from mom, who had a strange smirk on her face.
“So,” she began. “What the fuck were you doing to that girl that she made those sounds?” She timed it perfectly that I almost spit out the mouthful of coffee I’d just sipped.
“Well, if you really want to know,” I said after I stopped coughing, “there’s a special thing I do with my thumb that drove her absolute….”
“Stop”, mom laughed, covering her ears and shaking her head ‘no’ playfully. “I don’t need to know. I’ll just say one thing: you sure as hell didn’t get that from your father!” Have I mentioned that mom and I were close? There really wasn’t anything we couldn’t talk about with each other.
The weekend that followed was pretty uneventful. I went out to a local bar with live music Saturday night with my best friend, something we’d done each week since I got home. Sunday was pretty much a chore day around the house. I was still in the habit of ironing my clothes, a habit I picked up during my Army years, so there was a lot of laundry and ironing going on.
Sunday night, mom and I had dinner together and settled on the couch to watch TV in comfortable silence. As the night grew late, mom stood up and stretched. “It’s time for this old lady to turn in”, she said. I noticed as she stretched that my mom’s nipples were erect, and clearly visible through her white nightgown. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her dark nipples. It had been a long time since I’d seen my mom’s body like that, and now, even at age 56, she was sexy as hell.
“Old, my ass”, I said. “You know you have a better body than Wendy, right?” I forced a laugh, hoping mom wouldn’t think the comment inappropriate.
She smiled and reached out her arms to me. I willingly stepped into the circle of her arms, and enjoyed being close to my mom. She tilted her head up and, expecting our typical kiss, I bent down to her. Her lips were moist, which was unusual and she parted them as our mouths met, taking my lower lip between hers. The kiss seemed to last a bit longer than usual, as well; long enough that I felt my cock stir in my jeans.
I wrapped my arms firmly around mom, trying to draw her closer, but she placed her palms on my chest and softly pushed away. “Goodnight, min gode pojke”, she said, turning to go to bed. As she walked away, I dropped back to my seat on the couch, a rush of emotions and hormones causing my mind to churn. Wow! I thought. Did mom really just kiss me like that? I unbuttoned the fly of my 501s, and pulled out my cock, already almost fully hard.
*****
So, maybe you’re wondering about my cock. Sure, I could tell you it’s a 11″ hose the thickness of a grown man’s wrist, but I don’t want to lie to you. I suppose I have a pretty average cock. It’s a bit over 6″ long, not especially thick, but definitely not a pencil dick, and it has a large mushroom head that my lovers tell me rubs them just right. It will tickle the back of a throat, has been at least adequate for the majority of women I’ve been with, and isn’t too big for anal sex. I’m pretty content with what I’ve got, and more so with how I use it.
***** Right now, I had a sudden need to relieve myself of a load of hot, sticky cum. I grabbed my cock harder than usual and stroked quickly as I remembered my mom’s kiss as it was, then fantasized that she opened her mouth as we kissed. The tip of her tongue, I imagined, ran left to right along my lower lip, then pressed into my mouth, dancing nimbly against the tip of my own tongue.
Our tongues intertwined, circling each other and darting forward and back. Eventually, my tongue penetrated my mom’s mouth. I felt her lips close and her cheeks suck in as she drew my tongue deep into her mouth…. then slid her mouth up and down, sucking my tongue as though it were my cock…. and yeah, that’s when I erupted, letting fly a load of cum, barely pulling my t-shirt up in time to shoot all over my chest and stomach.
I don’t think it took a full minute to achieve what was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had. I’d spent four years away from home, and was sexually active during the last two years of high school, so it had been a very long time since I’d included thoughts of my own mother during my stroke time. But damn! That was fucking intense! I sat there, panting, my heart pounding in my chest as my cock still throbbed after my orgasm. Fuck, I thought, what the hell was that about? My mind raced, and I realized for the first time as an adult: I want to fuck my mommy.
*****
When I was young, after my parents divorced, I had a hard time adjusting. I really felt abandoned by my dad, and I blamed him for my struggles for many years. There I was, a boy of 11 or 12, dealing with abandonment issues (which we didn’t have a term for at the time). As I mentioned earlier, mom was the only constant: my North Star, my guiding light. My fear of abandonment was so great I would sometimes be afraid to be alone at night, and would ask mom if I could sleep in her bed. She never denied me, and it was always a source of comfort to me to feel her warm body next to me; to be held close in her loving arms, drawn fully up against her body. Her body heat alone was comfort; it helped to ground me so my fear could be kept at bay.
I remember reaching out to mom at night, placing my hand on her stomach, being comforted by the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed steadily in her peaceful sleep. Still, it was eventually confusing for me. My love for my mother was tied up in feelings of longing and desire that I didn’t really understand. I imagine many people can relate to that. Relationships between parents and children are always complicated; perhaps it’s more so when the involved parties have a shared emotional trauma- like surviving divorce.
***** Lying in bed that night, my mind whirled. I could not deny the power of my attraction to and desire for my mom. I knew the word for my thoughts: incest. I knew the societal and legal prohibitions of what I was thinking. I imagined that to even broach the subject meant risking rejection, ridicule; if I could even find the courage to attempt to raise the idea, which part of mom would react? The permissive, open side, or the side which had been societally conditioned to be uptight, that had told me masturbation was wrong?
I tossed and turned, my mind trying to determine a course of action which could lead me to my goal. Something came to me — a saying about taking on a big endeavor: how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. I realized that the proper way to approach this wasn’t to proposition mom directly, but to push boundaries, to see what I could get her to accept. I began laying plans to seduce my own mother!
Mom was in the habit of bathing (she only took showers when she washed her hair) in the evening after work. She always said she preferred to climb into bed clean. I determined to use her bath time as a way to test her limits. That night, I had gotten home first. When she got home, I was cooking dinner, and told her there was a good hour before the roast would come out of the oven. I suggested she relax in the tub and offered to bring her a red beer (her preferred after-work libation). She thanked me and began getting ready for her bath.
I held off on bringing her drink until I heard the water in the tub shut off. I waited nearly 10 minutes, knowing she would have had plenty of time to slip into the tub and let the warm water work on the stress of the day. I mixed her drink, then, in a flash of inspiration, I took off my t-shirt so I was dressed only in a pair of shorts. I knocked twice on the closed bathroom door, slipping right in without waiting for an answer.
There she was, in all her naked glory. As I mentioned, mom was slender, which helped reduce the effects of again. Her breasts hung a bit more than the last time I’d seen them, but they were still firm and beautiful. Her bush was still full, and covered the entrance to what I was coveting. She had her medium-length brown hair pulled up to stay out of the water, and her head leaned back against the inflatable pillow she kept in the tub.
“Good evening,” I began, “I’m Jim, and I’ll be your bartender tonight. Can I start you off with this?”
Mom smiled as I set her glass on the edge of the tub. I placed it about the midway point of the tub, so she had to sit up and lean a bit forward to pick up the drink. This gave me the opportunity to see her breasts sway as she moved, and I had a very typical reaction. I was semi-hard in seconds, and sat down on the toilet next to the tub, ensuring that if she looked, she could see the outline of my cock under my shorts.
“How was work today, mom?” I asked. I had determined that innocent conversation combined with exposure to each other in varying states of nudity was a good step. Mom and I chatted about our days for a while, then I said I needed to get back to dinner. I felt like stage one of my seduction was well-begun. Standing, I leaned over and kissed mom on the cheek.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“I love my mommy,” I replied. I hadn’t called her ‘mommy’ for years, but it somehow seemed right at the moment.
“And I love my gode pojke”, she responded. I smiled, looking into her eyes, then made a point of letting her see as I shifted my gaze to her naked body. I looked her over head to toe, then turned and left the bathroom.
Mom came out of the bathroom as I was taking dinner out of the oven. I heard her footsteps behind me. “Dinner in a few minutes”, I said. “Can I get you another drink?” She said yes, and I mixed another for her and a vodka Collins for me. If mom wasn’t leaving the house, she tended to change right into her nightclothes after her bath, so she was in a calf-length nightgown as we sat down to dine on roast beef and vegetables. I was still in only my shorts, which mom commented on.
“It was pretty warm over the oven,” I replied. “If it matters to you, I could put a shirt back on, though. I’d just be a little sticky until I get a shower later.”
“No”, mom replied. “That’s alright. You should be comfortable. It’s just us here, anyway.”
“That’s true,” I said, “It’s not as though we have to answer to anyone for how we live, right?”
“Exactly”. Oh, how I loved to hear that. I certainly hoped she kept that attitude!
A good meal and a couple of drinks later, we settled onto the couch for the evening. Mom had given no indication that the previous night’s kiss was anything out of the ordinary. I mean, I didn’t think she’d rip my clothes off to get to my cock, but there was no additional bodily contact, no lingering looks, to give me a sign that she was interested in more between us. That was ok. I was raised to work for what I wanted, and I was really enjoying the idea of trying to seduce my own mother. During a commercial break, mom asked about Wendy, as she knew we worked together.
“Well,” I said, “it’s just casual sex, but she did flash her tits to me at work today.”
“Oh, my!” mom exclaimed. “How did you handle that?”
“I looked, of course,” I laughed. “She has nice tits, after all.”
I guess mom had never done anything like that. Different generations, I suppose.
“It’s really no big thing,” I said. “Flashing doesn’t really mean anything. It’s just flirting, when you think about it. Nothing I didn’t see the other night.”
Mom said she could see that, but had never flashed or been flashed. At the next commercial break, I said I needed another drink. Mom offered to get it, but I had other things in mind. I stood and walked toward the kitchen, then called “Hey, mom?”
When she looked toward me, she got a full shot of my bare ass as I stood bent over with my shorts around my knees. “Jim!” she exclaimed. “Well, now you’ve been flashed!” I laughed, going in to get my drink. I reappeared several minutes later with a drink for each of us.
“Oh, I don’t know,” mom said. I’ve already had three.”
“Well, I can’t stand that red beer”, I said. “Just leave it and I’ll pour it down the sink later.”
I knew my mom hated to waste anything. Being born during the Great Depression, she had that ingrained. Without a word, she began sipping her drink, getting her mellower than she normally got.
*****
You might wonder what mom’s life was like in the years following her divorce. She dated a bit, but wasn’t one to bring random men around. She had three relationships with men that could be considered serious, one of them leading to an engagement which she eventually broke off. Mom always said she was in no rush; she didn’t need a man around. Unless and until she met the right one, she was good on her own.
Still, I wondered about that book I’d found years earlier. One day, I went into mom’s room and found it on the shelf in her closet. I wondered if she still pulled it out to read. I also wondered if she really thought that self-pleasure was wrong. I thought maybe if she really didn’t masturbate, her pent-up sexual energy might make it easier for me to be her source of sexual pleasure and release.
*****
As mom stood up to go to bed, she was a little unsteady. The extra alcohol, no doubt. I took hold of her arm to steady her.
“Oops, mom, are you alright?”
“Well, let’s say I’m not feeling any pain,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Would you like it if I got you into bed — errr, rather, helped you into bed, I should say?”
Mom laughed and thanked me. We walked down the hall to her bedroom and I moved ahead of her to turn back the covers. She slid between the cool sheets with a small sigh, and I pulled the covers up under her chin, just as she had done for me when I was a child. I leaned over her, brushing my nose against hers in what we called an Eskimo kiss (not a PC term, I know. It was a different time, ok?), before pressing my lips to hers.
Since she was lying on her back, I had an advantage in controlling the kiss. This time, she would feel that my lips were moist — I had wet them with my tongue as I moved ahead of her to turn down the sheets — and this time I opened my lips softly on hers as I drew her lower lip between mine. Almost imperceptibly, I opened my mouth again and let my lips caress hers just a bit, hoping to add a level of intimacy to the kiss.
I was rewarded by mom making a sound in her throat — it might have been a whimper or a soft moan. When I pulled away, she was staring at me with a look I’d never seen before. She was wordless, which was unusual for her.
“Well,” I said with a knowing smile, “Goodnight, mommy.”
She inhaled sharply before replying, “Goodnight, min gode pojke.”
“I know you had more to drink than normal, mom. Let me know if you need anything, ok?” I caressed her cheek with the backs of my fingers before leaving her room and closing the door.
The next morning, there seemed to be an electric current running between us. Nothing was said nor done that would indicate anything other than a typical relationship between a mother and her grown son. It was almost as if we needed the cover of night to safely explore this new dimension developing between us. Days passed in much the same way. One or the other of us would take the lead to make our nightly kiss more romantic, more sexual.
I continued to see Wendy, usually on Friday nights. She’d sometimes stay over; other times, we’d get a room. Our relationship was never going to be more than casual. We both enjoyed drinking, smoking weed, snorting cocaine (ahh, the 80s!), and fucking like beasts. The sex between us was highly enjoyable, but it was clear we didn’t have a future. Maybe because I was finding myself more and more drawn to my mother? Did I imagine being with my mother when I fucked Wendy? Oh, yes. More often than not. Another secret, and one which I enjoyed too much to stop engaging in. Mom asked about Wendy after a couple of weeks.
“We’re having fun, but it will never be more than that,” I told her.
“Why don’t you think there’s anything more there?” mom asked once.
I gazed meaningfully into mom’s eyes. “Well,” I began, “I suppose I’m my mother’s son in some ways, and I’m very different in others. I’m not going to try to make something be what it isn’t, like you; but I have never been able to go without a sexual outlet, either. Wendy is fun to be with, but she’s really just convenient. Since I won’t ever love her, I see no reason to try to change what is there between us. I mean, I’m open to love, but it has to be the right woman.”
We started sitting closer on the couch in the evenings, her still on her end, me moving closer from mine. That had been a simple thing. I started making microwave popcorn to eat while we sat in front of the TV. This allowed me to place a bowl between us, and required me to move closer to be able to reach. On occasion, our hands would brush as we both reached for the snack. At times, mom would recoil from these ‘accidental’ touches as though burned. The sexual tension between mom and I was growing, I was sure of it. I was growing more confident in my slow, steady seduction of the woman who had given birth to me.
One night, mom was home and cooking when I got home. “You know,” I said, “I might just take a page from your playbook. A relaxing bath sounds really good right now.” Mom said there was plenty of time before dinner, so I headed to the bathroom. Sliding into the warm water, I grabbed my cock and gently stroked it. I’m a grower, not a shower, and I had a plan in mind.
“Mom?” I called to her.
“Yes?” I heard from outside the door.
“Would you bring me a beer, please?” I asked. “I just realized I forgot to grab one, and I’m much too wet to walk through the house.”
“Sure, baby. Give me just a minute.”
I suddenly felt like it was hard to draw a breath. I wanted mom to see my cock. That hadn’t happened since she had caught me in that personal moment all those years ago. True to her word, within a minute, she knocked at the bathroom door. “It’s unlocked”, I called, giving my cock one last squeeze for good measure.
Mom came in, eyes down to the floor. I was disappointed, as I was making quite the effort to be on display for her. She held the beer out to me, but since she was looking down, she was too far away for me to reach it. “Mom, could you come closer, please? Unless you want me to stand up to get that beer, that is?” I laughed. She shuffled forward, her eyes still downcast. “Mom, is everything alright?” I asked.
“I feel strange walking in on your bath,” she replied.
“Really, mom?” I laughed. “I’ve seen you in the tub all my life, it seems. Why is this any different? You used to change my diapers. Nothing here you haven’t seen before. Now, would you hand me that beer? I’d like it while it’s still cold, please!”
Mom took a second or two, as though she were making up her mind about something, then looked me in the eyes and stepped closer to the tub. I turned my body toward her. As I mentioned, I’d been in the Army for four years, and I was in peak physical condition. All those pushups gave me a well-muscled chest and arms. My flat stomach was a source of pride to me. Miles of running and extensive time in the field had left me with toned, muscular legs. I was a stud, and I wanted my mother to see it.
“Thank you, mom. I appreciate it.” I wanted to be nonchalant, for this to be normal between us.
“You’re welcome, my son,” mom replied. Just as mine had earlier, her gaze swept from my head to my feet. My own mom was checking me out! She quickly said “Now I have to get back to dinner” and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I luxuriated in the tub as I sipped the cold beer, feeling that I had just successfully taken the next bite of this particular elephant. I was enjoying intimate kisses and the unspoken desire I honestly thought mom and I were sharing.
I again made my mom an extra drink one night, hoping the alcohol would further lower her inhibitions. She didn’t complain about the drink this time. Perhaps she was looking to lower her own inhibitions, as well?
I had begun to realize that mom might have the desire, but maybe she felt that she’d be taking advantage of me in some way. I had been raised to obey my parents. If mom told me to clean my room, I cleaned my room. If she told me to take out the trash, I did it. If she told me to go down on her…. hell yeah, I would! Maybe she was concerned that I would do it because I was told to, rather than out of my own desire to be with her. It was going to have to be me who made this happen.
Helping mom to bed again, I tucked her in and kissed her. By this time, there was no denying that our kisses were obviously well beyond that which is typical between mother and son. I held the kiss between us longer than I ever had, opening my mouth to draw her lips into mine. I moved from the lower lip to the upper. When I did that, she responded by opening her mouth.
For the first time ever, we were both instigating erotic kissing at the same time! We had both begun making pleasure noises in our throats. It was without doubt a wordless expression of sexual longing, and tonight I was ready to take the next bite.
Standing bent over her after our kiss, I whispered “Do you remember how I used to crawl into bed with you, mom? You were so good to me when I was so afraid. I love you so much.”
“Of course, my son. I remember it as though it were yesterday. Do you know that I got as much comfort and reassurance from you as you did from me? I felt so abandoned and unloved. You absolutely made me realize that I’d never be truly alone. My son loved me and needed me.”
“Mom, would it be okay if I crawled into bed with you for a bit? I could use some of your wonderful mommy snuggles. Or is that weird now that I’m grown up?”
Mom hesitated just a moment before inviting me to lay down with her. Victory! I slipped off my t-shirt, shoes and socks and crawled in next to her, turning on my side and opening my arms to her. How amazing when my mom slid over to me, entering my loving embrace, and lay with her body pressed to mine. My hands moved up and down my own mom’s back, rubbing, caressing, and even gently scratching her back.
For her part, one hand went to the back of my head, her fingers in my hair as she held me close. Nothing had happened that wasn’t innocent nor socially acceptable, but the position of our bodies and the proximity to the object of my love, lust and desire made me react physically. I grew hard, and my erection pressed against my mother’s thigh. I wanted to rub against her, but felt that would be too big a bite. Mom didn’t say a word, but eventually did move her thigh just a bit, creating a delicious friction between her leg and my swollen cock. Yes! Mom could feel my cock pressed against her, and she had gone with her instincts as a woman, not as a mother.
My hands grew bolder, tracing patterns further down her back, almost down to her ass. Suddenly, mom chose then to decide to go to sleep, and with a soft, lingering kiss on my mouth, she rolled over for sleep. She hadn’t asked me to leave, so I rolled toward her, my hand on her hip, not moving. I would stay until she fell asleep, I told myself. When I heard her breathing deepen and grow regular, I knew she was asleep.
Oh, the sexy, wicked things I thought. My lovely, sexy mother was there, asleep and vulnerable. I realized that I might be able to touch her as I never had before. I patiently bided my time, letting her go deeper into her sleep cycle. I slid my hand from her hip to her ass, caressing one cheek. No grabbing, nothing that couldn’t be interpreted as simple motion, rather than groping. For all she would know, if she woke, I might simply be moving in my sleep. Not a move from her! I again caressed her ass, this time sliding my hand down to the bottom of her impressively firm cheek, cupping where ass became leg.
My breathing was shallow, I was getting so aroused! Here I was, lying next to my own mom and fondling her ass. And I wanted more — so much more! I was on a complete high from the excitement and danger of violating my mother in her sleep! I returned my hand to her hip, feeling her move as she breathed. Still steady and deep. I ran my hand up her side, the tips of my fingers caressing the side of her breast. She stirred a bit, and her breath seemed to catch. I stopped immediately, and forced myself to imitate the deep breath of sleep.
No sense mom knowing that I was feeling her up in her sleep. Only the rock-hard erection in my shorts would give lie to my innocence. Not like mom was likely going to look for that kind of evidence, though. More’s the pity, I thought. I lay there long enough that, eventually, I too fell asleep, my hand still on my mother’s body, only the thin nightgown separating our skin-to-skin intimate contact.
The years in the Army had made me a light sleeper. It was important to be aware of any threat at all times, so the slightest change in noise, even, would bring me quickly to full awareness. I’m not sure exactly what brought me around. Maybe it was the change in mom’s breathing, or the barely noticeable shifting of the bed. More likely it was that my mom’s nightgown-clad ass was pressing up against my shorts-covered cock, which was well on its way to full hardness.
I continued to breathe as though I were still asleep as I came to the realization that mom’s breathing was shallow and rapid. Could the shifting of the mattress mean that my dear mother was doing something ‘wrong’? Could she be playing with her pussy as she pressed her ass back against my cock? This was delicious!
Occasionally, mom’s ass would flex, as though her cheeks were trying to pull the length of my cock in between them. No doubt, now. Mom thought she was violating me the same way I had violated her! I didn’t want to do anything to spook her, and besides, I wanted her to associate me with memories of being sexually aroused and satisfied.
I lay motionless, though I wanted with every fiber of my being to roll over on top of her and let us go crazy on each other. But no. Mom was skittish, probably at the extreme limit of her comfort zone, and I didn’t want to risk missing out on what I was now sure this would eventually lead to. I simply lay still, letting mom do whatever she wanted to me.
Eventually, she tensed up, her body trembling as half a dozen small gasps escaped her lips. My own dear mother had just gotten off, and had used me to help! I don’t think my own orgasm would have brought me more satisfaction in that moment.
I stayed in bed with mom all that night, but didn’t allow myself to so much as touch her again. The next morning, I let her get up first, pretending to be asleep. I could hear her start coffee, then went out to the kitchen to greet her before she had the benefit of caffeine to bring her fully awake.
“Good morning, mom. How did you sleep?” I asked, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist as she stood at the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish. I pushed close to her, my crotch to her butt, imitating our position from the night before. “I slept great,” I continued, wrapping my arms tighter around her waist and pressing my cock more firmly against her backside. “I had a really good time, too.”
“What do you mean?” mom asked nervously. I turned her around in my arms so we were face to face and kissed her with intent. A small kiss followed by another, and yet another. Each time pulling her lip between mine, and finishing with the tip of my tongue briefly lighting against her lip. She was standing with her back pressed against the counter, and couldn’t move away if she’d wanted to.
“You know,” I said, “snuggling with my mommy as we fell asleep. I hope it wasn’t too intrusive, me sharing your bed like that.” I left my meaning intentionally vague. I didn’t want he to know whether or not I knew what she’d done when she thought I was asleep.
“Oh,” she giggled nervously. “No, it wasn’t too intrusive at all.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe we should do that once in a while. I know I really enjoyed every moment of it!”
“I don’t know,” mom said slowly. “I’m not sure it’s the most appropriate thing for me to share my bed with my son, no matter how innocent it is. It wouldn’t look right!”
“Mom,” I cajoled, “who do you think is looking? You said yourself it’s only the two of us here. And we don’t answer to anyone for how we choose to live, right? I love you, mom, and I like to be close to you. I like kissing you, and I enjoy us holding each other. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Well….when you put it like that, I guess not.” Mom was trying to find an argument, but I’m sure she, too, was fighting the same losing battle I’d fought. Maybe what we felt and wanted wasn’t typical, but who has the right to judge?
That weekend, I decided not to go out with my buddy on Saturday night. When I told mom I was going to stay home, she seemed pleased. I think that whether or not she would be open to an incestuous sexual relationship with me, she really enjoyed our time together. I told mom I didn’t feel like a night of drinking, and asked if she’d mind if I got high at home.
“Why do you like to do that?” she asked. I told her I like the way it feels. She asked if the effect was similar to alcohol. “It’s different,” I said, “but also very enjoyable.” When she asked what it felt like, I told her there was only one way for her to know.
“Tonight, I’d like to have you smoke with me, mom. I’ll take good care of you, and I think you’ll have a good time.” Hesitantly, she agreed. We decided to have pizza delivered, rather than take the time to cook. I ordered extra, since I know I always get the munchies, and thought mom might, too. Little did my mom know the extent of my plans for the evening. I was prepared to take the final bite tonight!
After eating pizza and drinking soda, we went to the living room. Rather than turning on the TV, I pulled out some albums to play on the stereo. I started with one of my mom’s albums that would go well with being high, Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water. I told mom how being high altered your sensory perception, and that you can often notice things in music you hadn’t heard before, and that things might look and feel slightly different, as well.
She was visibly nervous, and I assured her I’d be there to take care of her, no matter what. And I fully intended to take very good care of my mom — in every way imaginable!
I loaded my pipe and demonstrated how to inhale. I cautioned mom not to take too big a draw, but it turned out she was a natural! She inhaled and held the smoke just as I had showed her, not even coughing a little. She exhaled the smoke and smiled. “When will I feel it?” she asked.
“Give it some time, mom. You’ll feel it come on slowly, and it will feel very pleasant.” We sat there, passing the pipe back and forth, and smoked our first bowl together. I noticed a change in mom before she realized the weed was having its effect. Her eyes became a little unfocused, and it seemed her entire body simply relaxed. I smiled and asked how she was feeling.
“This is nice,” she said. “It’s nothing like alcohol, but I get why you like this, son.”
“I’m glad, mom. We can simply enjoy a nice evening of feeling good together.”
Her eyes closed slowly, and she smiled. I reached over and let my fingers trail down her forearm. Her eyes opened and she asked what I was doing. I told her that her nerves might perceive things differently, and asked her to again close her eyes and focus on my touch. I went to her shoulder, reaching under her light nightgown sleeve to make contact. Slowly, I traced the length of her arm down to her wrist. I then turned her hand palm up and began tracing the lines on her hand. My touch was intentionally light, wanting to get mom worked up for more. Eventually, her mouth opened slightly and she shivered as I caressed her. Things were going along nicely!
I changed the music to some progressive rock. Pink Floyd’s Echoes, a masterpiece whether straight or stoned, emanated from the speakers. It wasn’t mom’s kind of music, but I wanted her to get the experience of layered levels of sound, and this has always been one of my favorite songs when I’m high. After the entire song played, I told her I’d put on something she might like more.
Getting up, I leaned over her and tenderly kissed my mother’s lips. Both of our mouths opened; we were both hungry for the contact. I extended my tongue and lightly flicked it over mom’s upper lip, causing her to shiver and whimper.
“Feels different, doesn’t it, mom?”
“Yessss,” she whimpered.
“You like it, though?”
“Oh, yessss,” she almost moaned.
“Let me change the music and then we’ll see how other things feel, too.” Before changing the music, I went into my room and got some incense I had bought in anticipation of this night. Mom had once disclosed that the smell of orange blossoms always made her horny, so I had purchased that particular scent. I set the incense on the coffee table and lit it. “It helps cover the smell of the weed,” I explained.
I then put on another of mom’s favorite albums and the seductive sound of Nina Simone’s I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl reached our ears. I sat down right next to mom and put my arm around her. She snuggled against me, putting her head on my chest as we sat together, stoned, enjoying music. I moved my free hand to her thigh, and placed it high up, my fingers touching where her legs pressed together. No longer cautious, I was ready to take the last bite.
“That is one sexy sound, don’t you think, mom?”
“Mmmmmm” was all she responded.
“Mom, I want you to kiss me, please,” I whispered.
She raised her head from my chest. Her eyes told me all I needed to know. Between the weeks of seduction, the music, the incense, and her chemically-lowered inhibitions, my mom was ready for some loving.
She turned her face up to me and brought her lips to mine. Our lips touched once, briefly, before we pulled back. Then they met again, our lips parted, and for the first time, I felt my mother’s tongue in my mouth. She was tentative at first. I made sure to moan deep in my throat to encourage her. Her tongue sought mine, twining, circling around. When I closed my teeth over her tongue and sucked, I thought she was going to climb into my lap, she pulled me so close!
All pretense was gone. We were not kissing as mother and son. No, this was simply a man and a woman doing what came naturally. We were responding in part to a biological urge, but our response was also based on an unshakeable love. This was my mother, my goddess, my love. How could I be expected to not desire her?
We kissed and caressed, our hands bolder than ever before. I ran my palm over her nightgown-clad breasts, feeling her nipples harden to my touch. Mom moaned, her eyes closed, allowing me this pleasure.
I took a hard nipple between my thumb and finger, rolling it as I tugged softly. Mom moaned against my mouth as we kissed, and I noticed her thighs pressing together and relaxing, again and again. Mom was obviously trying to stimulate her pussy. Well, I thought, I’m just the guy for that job! I put my hand under the hem of her nightie and began moving up her legs, skin to skin. Before I reached her panties, though, mom’s hands grabbed my wrists to stop me.
“Oh, my God, Jim, what are we doing? I’m your mother! We can’t do this. It’s so wrong!” I’d been expecting this, and had my response planned.
“Mom, this can’t possibly be wrong. We love each other with our entire beings, don’t we?” She agreed we did.
“Well, our entire beings must include our bodies as well as our desires. If we act in love, how can this be wrong? Besides, I’m still so horny from last night I can barely stand it. I’m glad you got off, but you left me a bit in the lurch!”
Mom’s mouth dropped wide open as realization dawned. “Yes, mom. I was awake the entire time. I felt you grinding your sexy ass against my cock as you made yourself cum. I was so glad it happened, because I want us to share everything.
Tonight, though, rather than take advantage of each other while asleep — oh, and yes, I did feel you up while you slept, too. Did you know? No? Well, then let me say you shouldn’t feel you did anything wrong. Whether you asked permission or not, you did exactly what I’d hoped you would. I want us to always be here for each other, in every way possible. I have never wanted anyone more than I want you, mom. Now let me love you.”
With that, I moved my hand further up her thighs, finally feeling the leg of her panties. Whether out of shock, desire, or a mix of both, mom didn’t try to stop me. Knowing that I was aware of what she’d done the night before, maybe she just realized the futility of trying to stop what was destined to be.
Kissing her deeply one more time, I moved off the couch, kneeling between my mother’s spread legs. I raised her nightgown to her waist, exposing her panties to me. Mom sat stock-still, perhaps stunned, perhaps unable to take part in furthering this experience. As long as she didn’t stop me, I intended to continue. I moved slightly, positioning myself so I could bring my mouth to my mother’s body.
I kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other. My moist lips kissed up the front of her thigh and I felt her shift, spreading her legs to me. That was all I needed! My mind was racing: I’m going to fuck my mommy! My cock had never been harder, and she had done nothing to me. This was desire as I’d never known it.
I hurriedly pulled her panties down to her knees, then pulled them down her legs and tossed them aside. Mom sat silently watching me, her hairy pussy exposed to me. For the first time ever, I was able to see her pussy, not just her full bush! She had full labia, and her arousal was evident. They were inflamed, and already opening.
I knew mom’s pussy would be perfectly wet for me, and I was more than ready to begin tending to her desires. I pulled mom closer to the edge of the couch, spreading her legs around my shoulders. I kissed her pubic mound, feeling her pubes against my mouth and inhaling the scent of her arousal. Mom moaned and ground against my face. My own mother was horny, and wanted me!
I trailed my tongue up the outer lips of her pussy, for the first time tasting my mommy. It was nectar from the gods! Her taste, her appearance, her scent — mom was everything I could have hoped for. As I expected, her pussy was already drenched. Mom was completely turned on with her own son between her legs.
I began placing kisses up and down her, my tongue occasionally pressing into her slit, spreading her pussy lips and lapping her nectar from the source. Mom writhed against me. Her hands in my hair, she pulled me more firmly against her soaked pussy. I drove my tongue deep into her, searching her inner folds. I alternated tongue fucking her tight hole and licking up and down her slit. Eventually, mom pulled my head up and placed my mouth against her clit.
Needing no further encouragement, I flicked my tongue up and down over her swollen, exposed clit. Mom’s clit was enormous! Tracing circles over her clit caused mom to begin thrusting her pussy against my face. As her arousal grew, she began making noise, but not words. She moaned and whimpered her pleasure. She writhed against my, pulling my nose and mouth hard against her needy pussy. She began making high-pitched, rhythmic sounds: “Ooh! Eem! Uum!”
These kept up until she suddenly tensed, her heels against my back, holding me close to her as she began to climax. Her orgasm washed over us both. My arms were wrapped around my mother’s body, my fingers digging into her ass to hold her from thrashing away from me. She frantically fucked my face, wanting to get every bit of pleasure possible.
Eventually, her orgasm subsided. Her pussy was still throbbing against my face as she slowly came down from her climax. I softly kissed around her pussy, imagining she would be too sensitive for more. Her hands caressed my head, running through my hair as she continued to silently gaze at me. I smiled at her, knowing this was just the beginning.
“Mom,” I began, “you are everything to me. You are my mother, my friend and my love. I need you now.” I pulled her up from the couch as I stood. I put my mother on her knees before me, my erect cock pointing straight toward her. Mom reached out and touched me for the first time. Her hand was gentle, yet perfectly firm. She ran her hand up and down my shaft a few times, her hand moving around so as to get to know my cock.
She pointed it straight up, leaned in and licked my shaft from my balls to the tip of my cockhead. My cock jumped in response to her attention. “Oh, fuck, mom…mommy! Oh, that’s amazing, my love! Oh, fuck, mommy. Suck your baby boy’s cock, please!” Mom was happy to oblige. She closed her lips around the head of my cock. I felt her tongue exploring my shape inside her mouth. Mommy then moved her head forward, taking a bit more of me into her mouth. Oh, man, did my mom have skills! How could my father have left her? Dude is an idiot!
Mom slid her warm, wet mouth up and down my shaft, taking more of me in each time until most of my cock was insider her mouth. I felt her humming against my cock, and I almost came right then. I put my hands against mom’s head and began to move my hips forward and back, slowly controlling the blowjob as I began to fuck my mother’s warm, wet mouth. She tightened her lips to increase the friction and I sped up my thrusts.
“Oh, fuck, mommy, just like that. Yes, there you are. Suck your boy’s cock, mommy. Be your son’s cocksucker. Swallow your son’s load, you dirty mommy….” The nastier I talked, the more intensely she sucked. At the end, mom’s head was a blur.
She moved up and down the shaft as she stroked the bottom half of my cock in her hand. Her tongue pressed against the very sensitive underside of my cockhead, and with each stroke, I could feel the delicious pressure building as my mother brought me nearer and nearer to orgasm.
Hitting the point of no return, I warned her: “Oh, damn, mommy. You’re going to make me cum. Here I cum now, mommy. Here your baby cums!”
She didn’t move to take her mouth off my cock, so I shoved into her mouth to the root as I shot the first spurt of cum deep into my mother’s throat. She pulled back until only the head of my cock was between her lips. I imagine she wanted more control. The second spurt shot along her tongue, and I felt her swallow as I came in her mouth. Jet after jet, filling mommy’s mouth with cum from the cock she had birthed!
I collapsed onto the couch, the intensity of my orgasm making it impossible to stand. Mom kept me in her mouth after my orgasm, gently sucking me clean, being very careful of the sensitivity of my cock, but also cleaning me thoroughly. Eventually, she let loose of my cock, and there was an audible ‘pop’ sound as she let it go.
Mom then climbed into my lap facing me. We kissed deeply, tasting ourselves on the other’s mouth. We held each other close, now both wordlessly reveling in the love we shared. It didn’t take long for me to get hard with mom on my lap.
I reached between her legs and felt her still-drenched pussy. I slid two fingers easily inside her cunt and moved upward, stimulating her G-spot. She moaned loudly as her good boy stimulated her sex.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to feel myself buried inside the cunt that made me. I wanted to fill my mother full of my hot cream, and to feel her cum again and again on my cock. I wanted everything — but most of all I needed to hear that mom wanted me just as bad. I realized she hadn’t spoken a word since our conversation before I went down on her.
“Mom, tell me that you want me.” She looked into my eyes with love, but remained silent. “Mom, what is it? Are you regretting this?”
She shook her head no, but said nothing. “Mom, it seems like something is wrong. What is it?” Again, the silence. It was maddening. I started to think I had somehow ruined something by forcing this day. My heart began to break.
“Mom, if we have to stop, just let me know. As badly as I want this, I won’t continue unless you tell me this is what you want, too.” Mom looked away from me and sighed heavily. She started to rise off my lap, and my cock sprung straight up. Wordlessly, mom shifted her position. I could feel the head of my cock slide against her pussy. I thought to myself: so close. But if it’s not right for her, it’s not right.
Imagine my surprise when mom wordlessly sank her weight down onto me, inch by inch, and I suddenly found my cock buried to the hilt inside my mom’s tight, wet pussy!
“Oh, fuck!” I screamed in pleasure. “Mom, oh, fuck! Yes! Oh, my love!” On and on as mom rose and sank, lifting upward until just the tip of my cock was left inside her, then sinking full down. She moaned as she fucked me, faster and faster. Her cunt gripped me as though she never wanted to let go.
Mom pressed her lips to mine and we were joined, tongue to tongue and cock to cunt, as I sat and let my mommy fuck me. Up and down, back and forth she rode, picking up speed as she neared her first climax.
“Oof! Eeeh! Uuunnn!” Over and over as ecstasy overtook her. I felt her juices flood my cock as she came. She never lost a stroke, fucking me faster and harder. I began to raise my hips to meet her thrusts, and we slapped together in blissful union. I couldn’t hold out much longer. Mom was just too good!
“Oh, my love, I’m going to cum soon” I told her. She rode still faster and harder, my hands on her hips to help her lift and settle.
“Oof! Uunn! Een!” Mom’s next orgasm triggered my own, and I pulled her down hard on my cock so I could send my seed to the deepest parts of her vagina. I shot what felt like a pint of cum into my loving mother, who was lost in the throes of her own orgasm. Mom and I just came together, I thought. It was bliss!
As we both returned to full awareness, we kissed tenderly. Still, mom remained silent. I placed my hands on her head and turned her so she had to look at me.
“Mom, did I do something wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” A single tear streamed down her cheek, which I tenderly wiped away.
“I love you so, min gode pojke,” mom began. “I’m sorry you thought I’m upset. Exactly the opposite, my love. I simply couldn’t admit out loud that I wanted what I know is wrong, which is just what you gave me. As long as I didn’t say it out loud, I gave myself permission to let it happen naturally, and I didn’t have to think that I was at fault for possibly hurting you. But now, there’s no reason not to say it. I want you to fuck me, min gode pojke. I want you to always be my personal motherfucker!”
I pulled her close to me and held her for a moment.
“Mom, my love, there is no fault here; no blame to take. I’ve been trying to make exactly this happen for so long now. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve helped your child achieve his dream. Isn’t that what a mother’s love is for?” She smiled, and in this silence, I came to understand some things about my mother.
“One question is nagging at me,” I said. “You told me years ago that masturbation was wrong. Yet you pleasured yourself just last night. I don’t understand that.”
Mom smiled and told me that she never actually felt that masturbation was wrong. She enjoyed masturbating, in fact. It was when she walked in on me, catching me in the act, that she realized I was a man — an 18-year-old man she was drawn to.
Watching me masturbate awakened a sexual interest in her, and she wasn’t ready to accept it. My mother had desired me for years, but couldn’t act on it! We laughed over that.
“Well, no worries now, my mother. We have each other, and we don’t have to answer to anyone about the choices we make in our life. No one need know about us, and we can just enjoy ourselves together.”
Mom leaned in and kissed me, wriggling her bottom on my cock. “Now then, she said, “I have something I need you to clarify for me.”
“Ask anything you want, my love.”
Mom smiled sexily as she asked “After the first night Wendy stayed here, you said there was some special thing you do with your thumb?”
I was more than happy to demonstrate for her. After all, I always want to be my mommy’s good boy.
END
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