Mom and son try again, the Second Time Around

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Mom and son try again, the Second Time Around, Not all stories are neat, nor do they all start at the beginning. Mine starts somewhere in the middle when my mother said, “I’ve missed you…I’ve missed the way we used to be.” Yes, every conclusion you might reach about the phrase ‘the way we used to be’ will probably be true, and then some. I had an affair with my mother Daniela. I slept with Daniela. I fucked Daniela. All true.

But that was in the past when I was just starting college and mom was a thirty eight year old woman about to be alone as she had never been. It was bad enough when her husband died and left her with a small child to care for. It was bad enough when there was almost never enough of anything. Anyone who thinks it’s easy to be a single mother, is wrong.

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I look back at all that now and it’s as if I’m looking through a gauze curtain. I don’t want to remember how many times we moved, how many schools I went to, and how much we traveled. I hope never to see the inside of a cheap motel room again, even if it was the place where I first had my mother.

I don’t know much, but I’m sure that there’s probably no stronger love than a mother’s love. But our first time together had more to do with sex than it did with love. I know it was that way for me, especially since I was virgin. I mean I’d been around the bases with some girls, but I never slid into home. And that’s what it was for me, in the best possible sense.

My mother asked me to travel with her sometimes because she said that being alone so much was taking a toll on her. I didn’t want to go, but I said okay. We were in the Green mountains and the scenery was gorgeous, even if the room wasn’t. Mom had come back from calling on customers and we sat on one of the beds watching “Leaving Las Vegas,” when she moved close and put her head on my chest. It wasn’t something she often did.

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We were watching TV that way for about five minutes when she put her head in my lap and kissed over my dick. I could have said something; I could done something in the interim before she did it again. What I did was almost hyperventilate, get hard, and feel my head spin. After the third time, when I was sure that it wasn’t an accident or my imagination, I stroked her hair. She sighed. She turned and came up to kiss my lips.

It’s an exaggeration to say her lips were burning, but it felt that way to me. Or maybe it was mine. We didn’t talk as we made out. I took my lead from her because I was afraid of breaking the spell. I didn’t want her to stop. The only initiative I took at first was to put my hand on her breast. It was an almost automatic response to making out. And she had nice, big, breasts. That I had always noticed.

She stripped me to the waist first, and ran her hands over my chest and back as we kissed. She took off her blouse and bra, and I ran my hands over those lovely fleshy globes over and over again, crossing the stiffened nipples as many times as I could. She cupped her tit in offering and I was quick to take it into my mouth. I sucked my mom’s nipple and the first sexual moan I’d ever heard from her crossed her lips. I sucked and suckled as if there was still milk to be had.

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