I received the call around four o’clock. It was simple enough. “Johnathan, I need to speak with you. Come by around eight.” It was my mother. The fact that she addressed me by my proper name was enough to let me know the subject matter, whatever it may be, was serious in nature, and the fact that she offered no more than she did was her way of informing me that any questions I might have before eight would go unanswered. I told her I would be there, and I was.
I sat on the recliner adjacent to her position on the sofa. I was not reclined at all. In fact, I was sitting forward, my forearms on my quads, to show I was listening intently to whatever it was she had to tell me. After what seemed an eternity of silence, Mom said, “I had a doctor’s appointment today.”
“How did that go?” I asked.
Silence. Thirty seconds, a minute, a minute and a half, then, “Not well.” More silence. “I have a brain tumor.”
“I thought they got rid of that?” I asked, for it truly was my belief. It had been three years ago when she was diagnosed. She had had two of those gamma knife procedures, and ever since she had been told that it was shrinking more and more, up until the point where the doctors told her it was completely gone.
“It’s not the same one,” she told me. “This one is more deeply rooted. They overlooked it because they thought the one they found was the only one. This one, though …” She stopped and collected herself. “It’s been too long, Johnny. It’s grown too big. They said it was inoperable.”
“Have you gotten a second opinion?” I asked.
She lightly snorted a laugh. “This was a third opinion, actually, and they all say the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“I have less than a year to live.”
So that was it. My mother just told me that this time next year, she would no longer be a resident of the physical plane. “Um … I know it must be a lot to take in. Have you made any preparations for this?”
“Everything will go to you.”
“No, Mom. I’m not talking about that. What I mean is, do you have a burial plot? You know, things like that.”
“Yes. All my funerary needs have been taken care of.”
“When will you tell your friends? I mean, they deserve to know as soon as possible so they can prepare themselves for the eventuality.”
“I’ll let them know,” she said as she nodded her head in agreement. “In the meantime, I need something from you.”
“Sure, Mom. Name it.”
She laughed loudly. Once calm again, she just stared at me. In all honesty, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was about to ask what it was she wanted when she said, “There is so much I never experienced. So much I have wanted to do, but never did.”
“Bucket list,” I said.
“What?”
“It’s called a bucket list. You know, like when someone dies people say, ‘he or she kicked the bucket?’ A bucket list is a list of things someone wants to do before he or she dies.”
“Yes, then that’s what I mean,” she said as she sat back a little. “I have a bucket list, but I suppose mine would be a bit unorthodox, considering the subject matter and my age.”
“How so?”
Another laugh. I waited. Finally, she said, “I am seventy-four years old and I never experienced oral sex, either giving or receiving.”
I was shocked, to say the least, both by the declaration and her willingness to talk about it. Still, having said time and again that I was as uninhibited a person as anyone was likely to meet, I pushed through that and asked, “Didn’t you and Dad ever do any stuff like that?”
“Your father? Heavens, no,” she said emphatically. “James was the type of man who believed in missionary sex only. He felt that oral sex was sodomy, and any position other than missionary gave the woman dominion over a man, and according to his religious beliefs, he refused to differ as he thought that would be to challenge God.”
“His beliefs?” I asked.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said immediately. “Yes, when your father died, I threw myself into the church, fanatically at times, and I’ve lived the life of a prude ever since. The truth of the matter, though, is when James died, I never had sex again.”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” I stopped her. “Dad died over forty years ago and you’re telling me that you haven’t been with anyone else since?”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Uh … I guess,” I answered, “but just understand how hard it is to believe something like that.”
“I have no reason to lie,” she assured me.
Silence, then, “So, you said you needed something from me,” I reminded her. “I hope it’s not to hook you up with anyone, because I don’t know anyone your age.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone my own age,” Mom told me, “but yes, I would like someone to live this fantasy out with.”
“One of my friends?” I asked in disbelief.
“Understand something here, Johnny: If I entered into a sexual relationship with someone at this stage of my life, I would really have to trust him. Right now, as it stands, the only person I can think of who I could trust that much is … You.”
“What?” I knew what I heard, I just wondered if what I heard and what she said were the same thing. I actually dug my pinkies into my ears to unclog them, then leaned forward.
“Would you allow me to experience oral sex with you, Johnny?” she asked, making herself perfectly clear.
“Oh, wow!” I exclaimed as I sat back. I looked up, through the ceiling and into the cosmos. I really couldn’t fathom what she was requesting of me.
Making note of my inability to make sense of things, Mom said, “Please, Johnny. If nothing else, consider it your dying mother’s last request.”
“That’s not fair,” I said as I looked back at her.
“You’re the only one I trust,” she said again.
I must have sat there for two solid minutes in silence, then I said, “Let me think about this, okay? It’s a lot to take in.”
“Well, take what time you need, but remember that my time is limited.”
Another jab. “Okay, Mom. Just … Give me a few days, is all.” With that, I left. I had a lot of thinking to do.
Most incest begins at an early age, yet here was my mother, who is seventy-four, asking her fifty-two-year-old son to engage in it with her. Had I ever entertained thoughts of it? In all honesty, yes, when we both were younger, but the last time I had a thought like that, Dad was still alive. Dad. Was he really such a slave to the Bible that he couldn’t enjoy anything other than missionary-style sex? If so, then poor Mom. No woman should be deprived of oral sex. No woman should be deprived of oral sex. Did I truly believe that? Of course, I did. I guess that I had found my answer, then. I decided to wait until tomorrow to call and tell her.
I invited Mom out to eat. We went to Mama June’s Country-Style Buffet where she got fried chicken, green beans and red potatoes, and rice and gravy, and I got a sample of about fifteen different things. I allowed her to pray, then I announced, “Okay, I’ve decided to do it.”
A smile came upon her lips as she bit into a chicken thigh. She chewed, swallowed, then asked, “What made you decide to do it?”
“In all honesty, Mom, I feel sorry for you that you had such an uptight lover in Dad,” I answered, and that was nothing derogatory against him as I loved him very much. “You deserve to experience these things, and I suppose that if I’m the one you feel most comfortable with, then I should be willing to do this for you, if it truly is your dying wish of me.”
“Thank you,” Mom said as she reached out and placed a hand over one of mine. “Uh … I really am in the dark here. When should we do it, what should I expect, are there any special requests you have? See? I’m just so full of questions.”
“Okay, number one: Special requests. Please shave your pubic hair as I have an aversion to it.”
“I’ll do that tonight,” she responded immediately.
“Number two: Insofar as to what to expect, it won’t be rushed. We will take our time, and I won’t act until you are ready for me to.”
“Thank you.”
“Number three: When? When would you like?”
“Tomorrow night?” she asked. “You could stay the night, if you wish.”
“I’ll be by at eight tomorrow, then,” I agreed. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, but if something comes up I’ll let you know.”
We finished the meal in relative silence, just peppering it lightly with conversation about one unimportant thing or another. I drove Mom home and walked her to her door, and when she entered I hugged her, then, instead of kissing her on the cheek as I normally do, I kissed her on the mouth, lingering there for about ten seconds. I pulled back and immediately went to my car, not giving her time to act or comment upon it but giving her something to think about until we would next meet in twenty-four hours.
I packed an overnight bag, and I showered before going over. I arrived to find Mom in her pink robe. She ushered me in and we pretty much assumed the positions we had yesterday. Mom was nervous as hell. Admittedly, so was I. We talked a little about our respective days, and finally, at nine-thirty, she asked, “Are you ready?” I told her I was, and we made our way into her room. I undressed first so Mom wouldn’t feel so self-conscious about doing the same, and then lay on the bed (she had already pulled back the covers prior to my arrival). She slowly untied the loop of her belt, then turned away from me. She then let the robe fall to the floor and I was surprised to see she had a bit of a bump in her rump. She turned, giving me full view of her naked body, then said, “I know I must look horrible, all these wrinkles and sagging skin.”
I held a hand out to her as I said, “I think you look beautiful, Mom.” She smiled, took my hand, and lay in bed beside me. Her hair had fallen across her face, so I gently swept it away. She smiled again. “May I kiss you?” I asked.
She shyly nodded her consent, so I did, much like I had the night before. As our lips separated, she said, “You really surprised me with that last night. In all honesty, it made me a little wet.” I smiled at that, then kissed her again, and soon we were gently making out, just kissing one another and nothing more. “Your father never would do this with me.”
“Dad’s not here anymore, Mom, but I am,” I reminded her, “and as long as you let me, I’ll treat you like the lady you are.” She said nothing, just smiled her graciousness for the comment, then we began kissing again, and I allowed a hand to move to her shoulder. I lightly rubbed it for a short while, then gently moved down her neck and to her breasts. Yes, they sagged, but the nipples were still very much alive, and at my touch they contracted, hardened, begging for my mouth, and I obliged them both.
First, to the left nipple, and Mom moaned loudly as I ran my tongue and lips across it. I sucked it into my mouth as I lightly began pinching her right one. “Unh!” Mom moaned, then cradled my head in her arms as I continued to softly suck. I eventually moved to her right nipple, giving it the same treatment as I had the left while allowing my hands to glide across her waist. I then moved my hand downward to her butt and began lightly squeezing it. “Oh, Johnny,” she whispered. “That feels so good.” I continued for about a minute more, then ran my hand down the outside of her leg before allowing it to slowly creep up her inner thigh. Another whispered moan as I allowed my fingers to lightly graze their way ever upward.
I moved my head up and began kissing her again. Mom wrapped her arms around my neck and held me as we kissed softly yet passionately. I dragged my fingers across her freshly-shorn labia
to her other thigh, then back to her soft pussy. I then barely inserted a finger and ran it up her slit to her clit, which wasn’t big in any kind of way, perhaps the size of a pinky toenail, but it was stiff, and she was extremely wet. She pulled me closer and kissed me more meaningfully as I slowly manipulated her clit with my forefinger, then she stopped and pulled back a little, enough for me to open my eyes as I readied to ask what was wrong, but that wasn’t the case at all. The twisted look on her face suggested that everything was right as Mom had her first orgasm of the night. She lightly spasmed as it coursed its way through her body.
“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered. “It’s been so long since I last had an orgasm that I almost forgot what it felt like.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to make sure you have as many as you can stand,” I promised her as I kissed her again, then I began kissing my way down, past her breasts, past her naval, and finally to her pussy. I licked my way up to her clit, and once I took it into my mouth, she came again. She spread her legs wider as she placed her hands upon my head, not applying pressure but just allowing them to rest there as I continued to suck her clit. Soon, however, she began running her fingers through what little hair I have, then she gripped the back of my head and pulled me further into her vagina as she came again. I continued sucking her clit until her spasming stopped, then moved down and began licking her juices from her.
I had just become aware of how truly hard my cock had become. I wanted so desperately to put it inside of her, but tonight was supposed to be about oral sex only, so I dismissed it as I kept at satisfying her orally. Mom came one more time, then called me off. Out of breath, she said, “O-Okay. That’s enough for now.”
“Are you sure, Mom?”
“We can do it again a little later, if you want,” she told me.
“I would like that,” I said in response.
“Now come up here and let me try that on you,” she said, patting the spot next to her. I arose and started to move when she exclaimed, “Oh, my God! Is that your penis, Johnny?”
I looked down at it, then said, “Yes, Mom. Why? Is something wrong with it?”
“It’s just that your father wasn’t that big,” she told me. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so lucky for me, after fifteen seconds of silence, Mom said, “Johnny, would you … That is, I’d like it if … Oh! I know we didn’t plan this.”
“What, Mom?”
“I … I want to feel it inside of me, Johnny. Please?” I was still kneeling in front of her, and her legs were still spread. She drew them up and wider apart as she said, “I need it inside of me, Johnny. Please.” I centered myself above her and lightly pushed my cock into her. “OH!!” she screamed as I entered her. Although her pussy was well-lubricated, it was tight to the point of being almost virginal from forty years of disuse. I pushed myself in to the hilt, and then the most amazing thing happened. She came so hard that her pussy clenched and spit my dick out. Her face and body were locked in some kind of funhouse mirror reflection kind of pose as she jerked and spasmed, and then what seemed like a thermos full of cum spilled out of her, bathing my quads to sopping wetness. The only sound issuing from Mom was, “Unk! Unk! Unk!” on continuous loop as the orgasm rocked her to her very bones. After about thirty seconds, she relaxed, yet she was weeping as well as she said, “Your father never made me feel anything like that in all the years we were married.”
Without saying a word, I repositioned her legs to gain re-entry. I pushed past her labia and went to the hilt. Oh, shit, Mom’s pussy felt good wrapped around my cock. I just wanted to keep it there where it was warm and wet, but by now my balls were beginning to hurt, so I moved in and out of her as easily as I could. I rested on my forearms above her and we began to kiss once more, then I whispered, “Oh, Mom.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered as once again she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh, Mom!” I shouted, then pushed as far into her as I could possibly go before completely unloading myself inside of her. She held me in her arms and we kissed the whole time. It might have been the most romantic orgasm of my life, and I suspect it was for her as well.
We continued kissing as we reveled in the rapture of our shared bliss, then Mom said, “Well, that does it for one night, I suppose.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, not wanting this to end.
“Well, you did have your orgasm,” she said in response.
“Yeah, and as you can see, I’m still hard and ready to work on another.”
“Oh,” she said, a bit chagrined. “It’s just that once your father had his, he was through for the night. That’s just the way it was.”
“I’m going to be a better lover to you than he ever was,” I promised her. Her arms were still wrapped around my neck, so I slid a hand under her butt, then rolled to where she was on top. “Go ahead, Mom. Do as you like.” She began kissing me again, and soon her hips began moving ever-so-slowly. I could feel her tight, wet pussy working over my hard cock like nobody’s business, and it felt great. “Just like that, Mom,” I whispered to her. “Nice and slow.”
Over the next twenty minutes, Mom had two small orgasms, then another big one, and soon after I had my second of the night. She lay her head upon my chest and I held her there, and that is how we fell asleep.
The following morning, I awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee. I did my morning necessaries, then made my way to the kitchen to see that Mom had made us BLTs for breakfast. I joined her at the table and she prayed before we began eating. Silence for almost two minutes, then she said, “I need to ask you about something.”
“Sure. Go ahead,” I said around a mouthful of food.
“You said something last night, Johnny, that got me to thinking.”
“What did I say?” I asked, immediately concerned. Did I say something wrong? Out of context? Something that should not have been said at all?
“Last night you made the statement, ‘as long as you let me, I’ll treat you like the lady you are.’ Did you mean that?”
Oh, I was relieved. “Why, sure,” I responded. “Why wouldn’t I have?”
“What would you say to moving back in?” she asked in way of a response. I looked at her with a curious, up-raised eyebrow. She continued. “This way, we could be together every night until … Well, you know …”
“Is that what you want, Mom? Would you like me to move back in with you?”
“As long as it wouldn’t be a burden on you,” she replied. “I mean, I am going to need help getting my affairs in order, and what-not. Besides, when I finally do pass on, you get the house anyway. We might as well start working toward that end as well.”
“I have some errands to run after breakfast,” I announced. “Let me mull this over, and when I get back, we’ll discuss it in depth, okay?”
“Good enough,” she said, and we ate the remainder of our food in silence.
I paid a couple of bills, went to the post office and dropped off a box to be shipped to my son in Albuquerque, and another for my daughter in Sioux Falls, then stopped by my friend Andy’s house to help him assemble a regulation-size pool table he purchased off eBay, then it was back to Mom’s house where, after a meal of her home-made pimento cheese and home-made chicken salad—not combined, but eaten with Crunchmaster crackers—we were finally able to talk, and we covered everything.
When I arrived back at my apartment complex, I went to the site manager and gave her my thirty-day notice. I explained to her that my mother had a year to live and I wanted to spend it with her. She termed this a special circumstance and let me out of my lease even though I still had five months left on it.
Having retired a full colonel with the Air Force yet maintaining a position with the reserves, the idea of scheduling a move around work proved to be no problem at all. In fact, I was able to commandeer the use of my men to help move the majority of my belongings into storage, so the transition from my apartment to Mom’s house was virtually seamless.
All this took place over the course of a week, and she was adamant that there be no more sex until I was fully moved in. The night of, we enjoyed a dinner of shrimp scampi and linguini, then Mom went to the bathroom in her room to prepare herself for what followed. I had my own room if I chose to use it, complete with a bathroom of its own. I showered in mine while she showered in hers. The idea here was that I was more than welcome to sleep in her bed after sex, but if I wanted some “me” time, I’d have a room to myself. I had already decided that if Mom and I were going to live like husband and wife, we may as well fully commit, so I was intent on sleeping in her bed.
I finished my shower first and was lying on the bed with a full erection when she exited her bathroom. “Oh, my. Are you really that excited to see me?” Mom asked.
“We made love just once, Mom. My desire for you has grown exponentially since then.”
Mom lay beside me. I took her in my arms and began to kiss her but pulled back almost immediately. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“I … I’m just nervous, is all,” she responded.
“Why?”
“Because tonight I finally get to know what it feels like to have a penis in my mouth,” she answered. “Johnny, tell me I’m not a whore for wanting to feel you ejaculate in my mouth. Tell me I’m not some kind of slut for wanting to know how it tastes.”
“Mom-Mom, settle down,” I said in a cooling tone. “Look, you know I would never ask of you anything you weren’t comfortable doing, so if you want to put off doing this—”
“No, Johnny. That’s just the thing,” Mom said. “I want it so terribly that I’ve worked myself up to a conniption over it.”
“Then come here,” I said as I lay back and pulled her up. We began kissing again and did so for about five minutes. Finally, I placed her hand on my rigid cock and allowed her to run her fingers all over it.
“I want it so badly,” Mom whispered to me.
“Just wait,” I said, and resumed our slow kissing. Her hand had been trembling at first, but now she was more in control as she lightly pumped my hard cock up and down. She was ready. Finally, I said, “Okay, Mom. Kiss your way down to it.”
Mom kissed my chest, my belly, and had gotten down to my manicured pubes, but stopped just inches shy of her goal. I could feel her hot, sporadic breath against my penis. I flexed it, allowing it to grow and pulsate in her hand. “Oh, what was that?”
“Desire and anticipation,” I answered.
She slowly moved her mouth toward it, then wrapped her quavering lips around the head of my cock. Immediately following this, she let out a scream that, if not encumbered by my cock, would have alerted the neighbors to some kind of distress. Her body seized and spasmed, and Mom had the mother of all orgasms. She damn near collapsed on me as her legs gave way and her body lurched forward. She gained some composure, though, and then it was as if someone had loosed all the demons in hell and they all chose to inhabit her body. She began sucking my cock so fast and furiously that there was really very little sensation to be had on my part, although she was cycling an orgasm every twenty to thirty seconds.
“Slow down, Mom. We have all night,” I reminded her.
“I just need it!” she near-screamed before jumping back onto it.
“Mom, look.” She did. “Take your time. We have all night, okay?” She smiled, nodded, then began a slow, arduous rhythm that she finally accepted. “Oh, wow, Mom. That feels really good,” and it did. She was taking my entire length into her mouth. I could feel it stretching her esophagus as it hit the back of her throat. “Keep sucking it just like that.”
She experimented with different techniques, and I had no problem with any of them. This was her night. I wanted her to enjoy it.
I reached out and felt her pussy. It was really soft and thick with cum. I began massaging her clit and she moaned again as another large orgasm swept over her. I could feel her legs quivering as I continued to rub on her. There was no need for me to penetrate her with my fingers as her clit was hyper-sensitive; she was still cumming at regular intervals and more so, it seemed, with my gentle touch. I paused shortly after that, though, for that familiar feeling began to well within my testicles. “Oh, Mom,” I whispered. “You’re going to make me cum.” She continued on, building speed just a little, and not long after I was filling her mouth with my seed.
Mom began to cry, but I offered no words of encouragement as I knew these to be tears of purest joy. She finally came off my cock and kissed me full on the mouth. “Johnny, that was the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced,” then she was back at devouring my cock.
I said, “If you really want to experience something magical, move your legs over.” She did, and we were in a sixty-nine. Yes, I was in a sixty-nine with my seventy-three-year-old mother and it was pure bliss for me as much as it was for her. We serviced one another well. She slowly sucked my cock while I slowly sucked her clit, breaking every thirty seconds or so to lap up the sweet, creamery cum that spilled from her pussy. We kept at it for another thirty minutes until I got my second orgasm. Mom was so worn out from the fifty or so that she had that when she climbed up next to me, she was asleep almost immediately. I wrapped an arm around her and fell asleep sometime later.
The following morning, I awoke first. I thought I’d give Mom a surprise wake-up, and I moved down, spread her ass cheeks, and began slowly licking her butthole. Even in her sleep it must have felt good, for she kept poking her ass out more and more so that my tongue could access her deepest regions. She finally awoke with a jerk and said, “Johnny? Wh-What are you doing?” I said nothing. I grabbed her by the hips and moved her onto her belly before drawing her ass up to me, them I completely immersed my face into it. “Oh, fuck!” Mom whispered. That was the first time I ever heard her cuss. Seriously. It emboldened me, though, and I spent the next fifteen minutes eating her ass for her. I slid a thumb into her and worked it in and out dangerously fast. Mom came like a wildcat. I got up behind her and entered her pussy doggie style, banging her hard and fast and deep. I swear, the groans and moans were like something from some movie about possession. I finally rammed myself in to the hilt and plastered her pussy with cum. When I was done, Mom rose up, wrapped an arm around my neck, bent her head back, kissed me, and said, “Now, that’s the kind of morning wake-up call I could get used to.”
I kissed her deeply and said, “You lay here. I’ll make you breakfast.”
After breakfast, Mom and I made our way into the attic where we took inventory of her belongings. She had several things I never knew of, most of which she wanted to give to friends, “and I want them to have them before I’m gone, just so I can see the appreciation on their faces.”
“How about this,” I began. “When we finish with the inventory, we can have a fish fry, invite all your friends, and at the end you announce your medical status before gifting out your belongings one by one.”
“That sounds like a good idea, Johnny. Perhaps we should make it a week from this Saturday. You know, to give everyone time to plan for it?”
That would give us time to inventory everything in the house, so yeah, it was a good idea after all. “Why don’t you go ahead and call them while I start on lunch?”
We ate light, as we always do, and just lay together on the bed thereafter, doing nothing more than holding one another. Mom eventually drifted off to sleep, so I kissed her on the forehead before I quietly made my way out of bed and into the kitchen where I began prepping for dinner. It was busy work, really, just something to keep my mind off the fact that one year from now, I would not have her in my life anymore.
Once that was done, I called my kids to tell them the news about their grandmother. First, John, Jr., who had recently taken to prefer his middle name of Benny, then Nikki. Both were saddened, of course, and said they would be here come the weekend.
I walked back to Mom’s room to check on her and found her lying on the bed naked with her legs parted. When she saw me she smiled and asked, “Would you like to see me masturbate?”
“Heck yeah!” I answered enthusiastically as I sat on the edge of the bed. Mom began to rub her clit, then she placed two fingers inside of herself, allowed them to linger for a few seconds, then removed them and brought them to her mouth. “Oh, damn!” I exclaimed. I removed my clothes and mounted her and fucked her like I had never fucked another woman in my entire life. Mom’s pussy was so tight and wet … It felt so fucking good. “You like the way your pussy tastes?” I asked her.
“It tastes so good,” she said in response.
“Here, lick your pussy juice off my cock,” I said as I pulled out of her and placed my dick in her mouth. Mom sucked it hungrily, moaning in ecstasy as she devoured every inch of it. She bobbed on it with such relish, and in no time I was adding my cum to her own. “Oh, shit! Eat that cum, Mom. Swallow it all.” She did, and even though I had cum, she continued to suck my cock for me. Just for a few minutes, though. It wasn’t like she was trying to get another orgasm out of me. Not yet, anyway.
“We’ll continue this tonight,” she said as she lightly spanked my ass. “Come on, now. Let’s knock out some more of that inventory.
After dinner we watched some TV. I had recommended a few shows. She didn’t like Dr. Who because Tom Baker was no longer The Doctor, and she said that Orphan Black was a little too mixed up for her taste, but she enjoyed Ripper Street. We watched a few episodes of that, and then we both entered her shower.
I had no intention of sex in the shower, but I did take my time very erotically lathering up her body. We did do a lot of kissing, though, and she was adamant about at least sucking my cock while in there, so I allowed it. Once back in her room, though, she climbed on the bed and got on her hands and knees and said, “Will you do to me what you did when you woke me up this morning?”
“What was that?” I asked. I knew full well, I just wanted to hear her say it.
“You licked my … um … butt.”
Without a word I got behind her and began slowly licking her ass. Mom cooed almost lyrically as she began feeding her ass to me, and I lapped at it like the thing of glory it was. I stopped and said, “Um, do you think that maybe you may want to try anal sex?”
“That’s sodomy, Johnny,” she quickly answered. “I could never do that.”
I desperately wanted to say, “Um, hello? What do you think me eating your ass is?” but I didn’t. She told me that she was quite happy with me licking it the way I was, so I continued to oblige her. The subject of sodomy never came up again. The remainder of the night, however … I treated Mom to a new position: Standing. I held her as I braced my back against a wall, going in and out of her while we kissed so damned passionately. When I finally came, my knees buckled, and I slowly sank to the floor, my cock still buried inside her. I turned her on her side while maintaining my vertical position and began pushing in slow, excruciatingly deep thrusts to the hilt. Her pussy was already sopping wet and getting sloppier.
“Oh, that’s it, Johnny. Just like that. Every inch. Oh! GOD!” She came all over my cock. I continued just the way I had been, and twenty-five of her orgasms later, I had gotten my second of the night. It was enough for me. I was ready for bed. I carried Mom to her place, then joined her. We spooned, falling asleep doing so.
The following morning Mom surprised me with a happy wake-up. She was slowly sucking my cock when I awoke, and just the sight of her doing so brought me to orgasm two short minutes later. When she finally came off my cock, she said, “So rich and creamy. I want more.”
“We have a busy day ahead of us,” I reminded her. “Let’s wait till tonight.”
“Or, we can forget about all the work that needs doing and stay in bed.”
“As enticing as that sounds, Mom, I think we should get busy. We still have a lot of stuff to look over and decide with whom you are going to share it.” We ate breakfast, brushed, washed, and dressed, then finished inventorying the attic before starting on the storage shed. Everything in there was to be mine with exception to an antique manual push mower that Mervin Willoughby was to receive. I didn’t have a problem with that at all. From there we went to spare bedroom number one. A wave of nostalgia came over Mom as she started going through boxes there, for the boxes contained a lot of Dad’s memorabilia. She began to weep, so I held her and soothed her as best I could. We never finished that room. She told me I could do with everything as I wished. I decided to keep it all.
That night at dinner, I said, “The kids will be down this weekend.”
“Oh. Really?”
“I told them. They want to come see you, and they said they would get here as much as possible up until … Well, you know.”
Mom smiled. “Bless their hearts.” She took in a big mouthful of the fried pollack, chewed, and swallowed, then said, “What have you decided insofar as sleeping arrangements?”
“I’ll take the room you made for me, Benny can have the spare, and Kaitlyn can sleep with you.” She looked a bit disappointed. “Oh, it’s just for the weekend. Surely your newly resurrected libido can stand a few days without us engaging in wild sex.”
Mom laughed. “I hope so.”
That night, I slept in my room. Mom had gone back to the spare after dinner and just sat amongst Dad’s stuff. I don’t know what was going through her mind, and I never bothered to ask, thinking that whatever it was, she would have to work it out for herself. She was the one who asked me to sleep in my room, and I had no misgivings over doing so.
The following day, Mom and I inventoried her knick-knacks and her jewelry. She was going to allow Kaitlyn to have her pick of each, then Benny, then me, and what was left of the knick-knacks she was going to give to her friend Irene while the remaining jewelry would go to her friend Samantha. That night, after a dinner of cubed steak, mac-n-cheese, and green beans, Mom once again made her way to the guest room where Dad’s stuff was. After about thirty minutes I went in after her. I softly placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and said, “Mom, do you need to talk?”
She looked up at me, smiled, then patted my hand before saying, “Have a seat.” I sat next to her and offered a small smile, prompting her to begin whenever she was ready. After a few minutes of silence, she finally did so: “There’s something I never told you, Johnny. Something about the circumstances of your father’s death. You were only thirteen when he died. For so long I have allowed you to believe that he died from a heart attack when the truth of the matter is that he killed himself.”
“What?”
“It was early onset Alzheimer’s—dementia,” Mom told me. “He used to visit parishioners who had it. He referred to them as ‘The Walking Dead’ on account of they were alive by breathing and beating heart only after mental acumen failed them. With his … He got bad very quickly. He had moments of clarity, and it was during one of these that he killed himself, stating he didn’t want to end up a zombie like the others.” She looked up at me then, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve lied to you all these years, Johnny. I was just trying to protect you.”
“I understand,” I said as I took her in my arms. That was quite a revelation, but not one I could be upset at her over. I rocked her for about a minute, then said, “Stay here as long as you like,” before exiting the room.
I turned on the TV and watched a few episodes of Siren on hulu before falling asleep. I awoke a few hours later and made my way down the hall to find Mom had fallen asleep in the spare bedroom. I covered her up and went to my room and crawled into bed. The kids would be here tomorrow. Hopefully that would lighten Mom’s mood some.
Benny arrived first, at 10:30 a.m., followed by Kaitlyn just a little past noon. Mom was happy to see them both; their arrival got her out of her funk and into a more festive mood. We just sat around visiting for a while, then it was off to an early dinner at El Toreo Mexican Buffet. Over dinner, Mom discussed her plans for the kids once she passed away. They were uncomfortable with the ease in which she had accepted her death, but she told them she planned on living every day to the fullest until she died, so they were a bit more receptive of her attitude.
The following day was spent at Wild Adventures, a local theme park. Neither Mom nor the kids had ever been, so it was a thrill for everyone. We stayed until the park closed at ten so we could see the fireworks, then it was off to IHOP for a late dinner before returning home.
The following day, Sunday, we spent going over the particulars of the funeral. By five p.m., both Benny and Kaitlyn had their respective planes to catch, so we drove them to the airport to see them off. Both stated they would synchronize their vacations to spend here with us, and we could count on that in about five or six months.
After a light dinner, Mom got her shower and once again resumed her place in the spare bedroom where she just sat, looking at nothing in particular. I was immediately concerned as I really had no idea what was going through her mind. I mean, the whole time Benny and Kaitlyn were here she seemed normal, but now? I was trying to be respectful and not encroach, then again, maybe that’s what she was waiting for. In the end, I decided to say nothing. I finished the dishes and began reading All the Pretty Girls by Duncan McTeague. The novel contained short chapters and was fast-paced, no real down-time at all, so it kept my attention.
I guess about an hour into the book, Mom came into the living room. She stood before me, saying nothing, then lowered herself onto her knees. She pulled my cock from my shorts and began sucking it, then she mounted me. Her pussy was so sloppily hot and wet that when I penetrated her, my cock was like a warm knife cutting through butter. Mom convulsed as she had a terrific orgasm, then near fell off me as she said, “No. Not like this. Not like this.” She moved to the couch and said, “I need to be fucked tonight, Johnny. Can you fuck me? Can you fuck my pussy good for me?”
I don’t know what was with the dirty talk, but it turned me on like nothing else. I joined her on the couch and lifted her legs so that they fit into the crook of my elbows. I then eased myself into her, then began to slam her seventy-three-year-old pussy as hard and fast as I could. Mom said nothing. She just lay there taking every thrust I gave her. Oh, sure, her face would contort every minute or so as she had an orgasm, but she was quiet for the most part until her climax came, and at that point she scraped her nails down my back before slapping and punching me in the chest and face.
“You sorry bastard! You sorry fucking bastard! Why did you have to leave me? Why did you have to kill yourself? I would have taken care of you, you bastard.” She pulled me down to her and began kissing me. “I would have taken care of you.”
“You did all you could, Mom,” I said in a soothing voice. “Be at peace with that.” I pulled out of her then. No, I had not yet gotten my orgasm, but right now, that seemed not too important. I lay next to Mom and she wept herself to sleep. I covered her up and went to my room to shower, and that’s the way that day ended.
I awoke with Mom in my bed. Unbeknownst to me, sometime in the night she had crawled in in front of me into that spooning position. “Are you awake?” I asked softly.
“Yes.” I wrapped an arm around her. She grabbed my hand and placed it upon her breast. “Make love to me, Johnny.” I kissed the nape of her neck and her back arched. I lifted her leg and slid my hard cock into her. “Ohhhhhhhh,” she sighed upon penetration. I began to move slowly in and out of her. I wasn’t in a hurry to cum, and she seemed content with the pace I had set. Problem was, though, that I was still jazzed from last night, but that really didn’t matter. I came in her in about ten minutes, but I kept on going another thirty until I came again. By the time I was done, Mom was all smiles. She looked back, pulled my mouth to hers, and we kissed another ten minutes before getting out of the bed.
Over breakfast, I asked, “Is it wrong that the value of my love for you has changed?”
“I was wondering the same about mine for you,” she said in way of response. “You are my son, and I love you, but …”
“Go ahead, Mom,” I said when she did not immediately finish her sentence.
“I’m falling in love with you, I think. Is that wrong, Johnny?”
“I’m already there, Mom, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
She bent toward me and we began to kiss. I made to pull back after a few seconds, but for some reason committed myself to more. After a few minutes, Mom said, “Take me to the bedroom.” I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the bed, kissing her all the way. We removed our clothing, then Mom had me lie down so she could mount me. It was slow and exquisite and beautiful. Once it was over, we lay together for the better part of an hour with no words passing between us.
At dinner, Mom announced, “I want nothing but oral tonight, and lots of it. Think you can oblige me that?”
“I’ll give you as much as you can stand,” I answered. After Matlock went off at ten, we went to our separate bathrooms to bathe. Once again, I was waiting for Mom when she came out of her shower, much to her appreciation.
She crawled onto the bed, stuck her ass high into the air, and said, “Will you lick it again like you did before, Johnny? It felt so good when you licked it last time.”
I positioned myself behind her and parted her fleshy ass cheeks. I then slowly ran my tongue around her rectum. Mom cooed with pleasure as my tongue slowly lavished her most private of regions. Oh, her asshole was a thing of beauty. It was tender, but not too wrinkled; it still had a light pink color to it; and it was every bit as sensitive as her clit. I remember glancing at the clock before I began, and the time was 10:38. It was now going on 12:15. I had been eating Mom’s ass for over an hour and a half, and she and I were so into it that we lost all track of time.
I finally moved down and ran my tongue into her slit from behind and was immediately blessed with a mouthful of her sweet, syrupy cum. I ate her pussy like that for a good hour, then she called me off not because she had had enough, but because she now wanted to do a sixty-nine. Hey, great for me. I lay down and she climbed atop me. I pulled her sweet, sweet pussy to my mouth and sucked her clit, moving my tongue in circular motions around it at an excruciatingly slow speed; she was literally dripping cum into my mouth, my treat for a job well done.
My penis remained untouched for the better part of thirty minutes, so entrenched had she become in my special treatment of her pussy, but finally she bit the bullet and took me into her mouth. Mom sucked my cock oh-so slowly, savoring every inch of it as it filled her mouth and throat. She sucked me just like that for I don’t knowhow long, but I finally shot a massive load into her mouth. She swallowed every savory drop of it, then collapsed on me.
I helped her turn around where she was lying in my arms, her head on my chest. “I love you,” Mom said to me. She fell asleep shortly after.
The remainder of the week was spent making preparations for the fish fry on Saturday. Bill Cummings had volunteered to do the cooking—he was everyone’s go-to guy, he assured me—and the Renfroe twins, Abigail and Annabelle, volunteered for food prep, “Just as long as you aren’t serving any mullet.” I assured them it was all bass and catfish. Mom was to make the hushpuppies, and of course the cheese grits were on me. Perfect cheese grits are so simple to make: Water, grits, butter, salt, pepper, cheese. Why people add milk or sugar or anything else is beyond me.
Leading up to Saturday, Mom’s and my days were filled with continuing our inventory of her belongings while our nights were filled with making love. She had not once stepped foot back into the guest room since I fucked her silly. I guess she purged herself of whatever guilt must have harbored itself over the years. Regardless, I was glad to see that monkey off her back so that we could concentrate on other things.
The fish fry went as well as it could have. All who were invited did attend, so we were able to handle everything all at once instead of in increments. Mom passed her items out to her friends, after which she announced that she was dying. Shock, disbelief, and even a little mayhem ensued as some could not accept the fact that she would not be here this time next year. With the help of Ray Underwood, the pastor at Mom’s church, we got things under control. Mom told everyone in attendance that if they wished to spend time with her to say their final good-byes that they should do so over the next few months, because once she really started withering away, she was cutting off all contact with everyone. This announcement was met with more tumult, but she stood her ground. We both knew there would be some backlash to this once she stopped seeing anyone, but we were of the mind that what mattered most were her feelings, not theirs.
About four months total from the time I moved in … Do you know how you see something, the same thing, every single day, and it changes so gradually that you never notice it at first, and then it’s like BAM!! and you see the change? That’s how it was with Mom. One morning over breakfast I couldn’t help but notice that she looked like she had lost about ten pounds and gained fifteen years. I didn’t say anything, of course. I never would, unless she brought it up, and then I would be as tactful about it as I possibly could.
Although she did not say anything immediately, she must have discerned that I was aware of the change. Her ribs were showing, but sex had begun to take a different turn. No longer was she asking me to fuck her. It was all sweet and loving, which was fine with me, and more and more of it involved Mom on her back and me mounting her or performing oral sex with her lying down. She still hungrily craved sex, it’s just that she was having to make accommodations for her declining health.
It wasn’t until the fifth month that I finally said something, and Mom had no recourse but to address things. I told her of my commitment to her and to this, her dying wish, yet I cautioned her and reminded her that I would never ask anything of her that she was not willing to freely give. She appreciated that, and we lay together the entirety of the afternoon making slow, sweet love. That evening, I brought her dinner in bed, and as we ate I reminded her, “The kids will be here in a few days.”
“Oh, really? What for? Weren’t they here just a few weeks ago?”
And there it was, the first sign of memory loss. The first sign of Alzheimer’s, maybe? I didn’t know, but I knew I needed to tell Benny and Kaitlyn what to expect before they arrived. After Mom went to sleep I stepped onto the back porch and did a conference call. “Yeah, it’s getting pretty bad,” I told them. This would be the perfect time to cover my tracks, so I took advantage of it. “She sometimes calls me by my dad’s name and wonders why we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore.”
“Oh, Daddy. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Kaitlyn said.
“Just last week she came up behind me and kissed me on the neck and told me that sex was wonderful,” I added.
“Whoa, Dad. I can’t even imagine what must be going through your mind right now.”
“What’s going through my mind is that about ninety-seven percent of the time she is herself, lucid, aware of what’s going on around her, so I don’t treat her differently,” I said in way of a response. “I am expecting the same from the two of you. Do not patronize her. Just treat her as you always would.” They assured me they would, and then we moved onto other things.
The kids spent a solid week with us. At one point, Mom asked Kaitlyn three days in a row when she got to the house, thinking that Kaitlyn had just arrived. At another, she referred to me as my children’s’ Grandpa, and at another still she called Benny by my name. The kids were great, though. They never acknowledged her wrongness, but they did not make her feel like a fool, either. Very respectful.
As they were leaving, Benny said, “If it becomes too much, Dad, just call me or Kaitlyn, or both of us even, and we’ll be here to help.” Kaitlyn echoed her brother’s sentiments, and I hugged and kissed them both as they returned to their lives.
By month eight, Mom had stopped taking visitors with exception to Reverend Underwood. We had called all her friends for one final visit, and from there on she was severing ties with them. It was a deeply emotional evening, and yes, even I cried. After everyone left, I put Mom to bed and watched … well, nothing. I mean, the TV was on, but I couldn’t tell you what was playing. I had just begun the first stages of preparing myself for Mom’s death. I thought I had been doing so all along, but in reality I hadn’t, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.
By month ten, Mom had withered away to almost nothing. Still, on one storm-filled night, after I had tended to her needs she said, “One last time, Johnny? Just for the hell of it?”
I didn’t want to, and not because I may have been repulsed by her appearance, because that wasn’t the case at all. No, it was because frail as she appeared, I was afraid I would somehow hurt her. Still, she was insistent, so I got behind her, gently lifted her leg, and carefully inserted my erect penis into the only pussy I had known for the past ten months, and it was wonderful to be back home. I slowly rocked back and fourth. I didn’t realize it until after I was done, but she had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of it.
Two weeks later, Mom was dead.
I loved her enough that I gave her her dying wish.
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