A lot of stuff happened on my 18th birthday. You could call it life-changing and I wouldn't argue with you.
I grew up in Denver, Colorado, raised by a single mom. Like any other boy in that situation, I knew a lot about mom. It had been clear, for example, that she enjoyed men. I mean, how many times can you wake up and find another man leaving before you get the picture. I even understood about sex and had, more than once, walked into mom's bedroom only to find her asleep - or passed out - with a towel folded up between her legs.
All of that was kind of peripheral in my life though. You know, just background noise. Like any other boy who hits puberty, I was fascinated by the interesting changes in girls in my classes. With my first date when I was in 7th grade - roller skating at Mammoth Gardens on Colfax if it matters (revealing something about my age here) - girls achieved obsession status in my mind. I got my first real kiss at 14 and shed my virginity the next year.
As an aside, I have always found it interesting when we talk about "losing" our virginity. How in the world do you "lose" something you've been working so damn hard to get rid of?
Over the next three years, I dated, with my goal always to get the girl out of her panties. I've always been a pretty simple-minded guy.
But then came my 18th birthday.
My best friend, Greg, who I had known since third grade, had promised to get me drunk and I was looking forward to it. Oh, I had had drinks before. Mom was an alcoholic and, as I've said, a bit of a party girl, and there was always alcohol around and I'm a curious kind of guy. But I had never set out to get drunk before and I was anxious to try it.
We took the day off of school - my birthday happened to fall on a Friday that year. I went down and registered for the draft, we took a ride up into the mountains, making that trip from Central City to Idaho Springs down the old Butterfield Stage Road that always scared the shit out of me when Greg was driving. Then it was back to his house where his mom had said it was okay, as long as we didn't try to go out drunk. She was home, and I drug my eyes away from the cleavage she showed. His sister, Jeanette, my first crush was home too. I waved and she ignored me.
He had a new guitar, a Fender Stratocaster, and was showing me how to properly form a C chord when we heard a shriek, that's the only word for it, from his sister. A loud "NOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo" followed by a door slamming.
He rolled his eyes, said, "fucking Jeanette," and went back to showing my fumble fingers which string to press. I eventually got the chord to ring out, grinning, and took another drink from my Coors beer, saluting him in triumph.
Then the shit hit the fan.
A door slammed, and another loud "NOOOOOoooooooo" followed, accompanied by loud footsteps and then a crashing sound.
"What the fuck?" Greg and I said in unison.
I set his guitar on the bed and we headed downstairs.
On the living room floor, Greg's mom was kneeling over his sister who was laying, thinking back I think the word "theatrically" applies here, theatrically sprawled, blood coming from the shallow cuts across each wrist.
"Go home, David," his mom said.
So I went.
I didn't have my car since we only lived about two blocks apart and I had been planning on drinking.
So I walked home, my head spinning a bit. Looking back, I realize that was just Jeanette's attention-seeking although I suppose she WAS hurt when her boyfriend broke up with her. But at that time I was pretty shaken up.
At home, I opened the door quietly. I didn't see any strange cars in the driveway, but I knew mom well enough to know that it wouldn't be surprising to find her half undressed in the front room with that night's conquest.
None of which prepared me for what I DID walk in on.
Our house was laid out with a small hallway, not a true mudroom, but a hallway where coats or shoes could be left.
As I walked in and quietly closed the door behind me I heard a very distinct SMACK sound and then my cousin's wife, Lee's, voice say, "twenty-nine."
I held still, my mouth open so even my breathing would be silent, a trick my one-time step-father had taught me on my one hunting trip, and waited.
It was a long count, long enough that I was beginning to wonder if I had really heard it when - - SMACK - - "thirty."
As I write this I am one year short of three-quarters of a century old. I have been married three times and bedded, well, let's just say "several" women in a life that includes few regrets. But in all my years there has been nothing to rival the pure sex of what I saw when I carefully peeked around the corner of that short hall.
Lee was sitting in one of the sturdy kitchen chairs that was in the middle of the living room. She was a redhead, one of those thin, almost angular women who seem to manage to burn every fat cell they consume. Her arms and legs were thin, something I had glimpses of from time to time in a small house with only two bedrooms, but strong, something I had learned from our occasional roughhouse play. She had on jeans and one of the long-sleeve blue chambray work shirts she favored. The light blue was a good color for her and she knew it.
Across her lap was my mother.
Mom was naked, obviously crying, her heavy breasts hanging free over one side of Lee's lap while her legs kicked weakly. Thick strings of snot and drool hung from her nose and mouth. I could hear her soft moans.
I came erect INSTANTLY. This was far beyond any boner or hardon I had ever had. It was painful as my cock tried to push THROUGH my pants.
Lee's left hand lay casually between mom's shoulder blades, her right hand was caressing mom's ass.
As I watched, the tension left mom's body, she relaxed, almost limp, and Lee lifted her right hand.
From across the room, I could see the sudden tension as mom clenched her ass, protecting herself.
That tableau held for a long five count.
Mom relaxed.
SMACK!
"Thirty-one."
Her entire body flinched, her back arched, and she made a soft, moaning sound.
Then she relaxed, hanging limp as Lee's hand began caressing her ass again. I could see how red it was from across the room. I wondered if it felt hot.
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
I watched through "thirty-two," "thirty-three," and "thirty-four."
Mom was sobbing and Lee was talking to her too softly for me to hear.
At some point, I had moved enough to stand and watch. Mom's focus was on the floor, evidently on the puddle of snot and drool she was leaving on the floor, and Lee was looking at mom's ass and back.
Suddenly mom turned her head, shaking a thick string of snot loose, and our eyes met.
"LEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!" she yelled, "STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!"
Lee laughed, a hard sound, and smacked mom's ass again, making her scream.
"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!" mom yelled, "LEEEEEEE, STOPPPPPPPP!!"
Lee laughed again, and started spanking mom, hard, none of those rests in between.
SMACK!
"LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"
SMACK!
"LEEEEEEE, JESUS, LEEEEE, DAVEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"
SMACK!
I couldn't look away.
Not that I wanted to.
Mom's eyes were locked on mine and with each successive slap on the ass she would yell, "Lee," or, "stop," or, my name.
I didn't try to count, I was frozen in place.
Eventually, I guess what she was yelling got through to Lee and she looked up and saw me there.
"Predatory," is the only right word to describe her grin when she met my eyes.
"Oops," she said, mocking the situation.
"Hold still, bitch," Lee said, smacking mom's ass again and reaching up and entwining her fingers in mom's hair, twisting, drawing a cry.
We held that tableau for some measurable fraction of eternity, me standing, staring, mom weeping and looking at me, Lee grinning and holding my eyes with hers.
Finally, Lee broke the tension, well, she broke the frozen poses.
"Stand up, bitch," she said, slapping mom's ass again, "and show young David the goodies."
"Lee," mom said, and the whining tone in her voice shocked me more than anything else of this shocking evening, "please."
Lee twisted her fingers in mom's hair, jerking her head back, making her groan, and said, "stand. the. fuck. up."
"Please," mom said, her voice that of a lost soul, but she moved around to stand.
My mother was a pretty woman. Her hair was very black, attesting to the family legend that a few generations back a French trapper had taken a Sioux squaw, with a few strands of silver making her, not salt and pepper but pepper with a few grains of salt. It was a striking look. Blue eyes made a stark contrast to her hair, as did very pale skin.
When she stood, her breasts were heavy and sagged, her nipples pale, almost invisible against the pale flesh of her skin, a tracery of blue veins adding to the image of exposure and helplessness somehow. Her areolas were wrinkled cones, supporting her nipples, and those nipples were little dots in the middle of those cones. She lacked the wasp waist and flaring hips to be a true hourglass, but there was no doubt at all that she was a woman. Her pubic hair was very black, very coarse, and very sparse, laying flat against her mons veneris, that beautiful Mound of Venus of her sex. Full nether lips and dangling inner lips were shiny, and a silvery string of her natural honey hung before running thickly down her thigh.
Her hands were crossed, covering her breasts. Her eyes were downcast. Her body shook gently as she cried.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Lee said, slapping mom's ass again, "Put your fucking hands down."
Mom moaned softly and let her hands fall to her side.
"Come here, Davey," Lee said and I felt my feet start to move, almost without my intention behind what I was doing.
She smiled at me when I got close, an almost tender smile.
"So now you know," she said, and kissed me, a very soft, gentle kiss.
"Sit, honey," she said in that same soft voice.
I sat.
I watched as she kissed mom, very softly, and then stepped back and said, in that soft voice, "assume the position, Mary."
Mom moaned, very softly, deep in her throat. I had seen the word "keening" before, and that's what I heard.
But she didn't resist. She took the two small steps to stand on my right and then slowly bent forward until she was across my lap, her breasts hanging free across my left thigh, my right hand falling naturally to cover her ass.
"I love your mom," Lee said, "but this is something she needs."
Mom said nothing, just laid, limp, sort of whimpering.
Lee laid her palms on my cheeks and held my eyes, one of those deep looks that two people share sometimes.
"David," she said, surprising me by using my full name, not Dave or Davey, "this isn't punishment. Honey, it's giving her something she has to have."
She was still holding my eyes.
"Do you love your mom?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Then help her, honey," she said, "she needs it. She had a very bad week."
"What do I do?" I asked, really not sure what this was all about.
She smiled.
"Your left hand here," she said, taking my hand and laying it between mom's shoulder blades.
I felt the warmth of her skin and the firm little bumps of her spine under my palm.
"Your right hand does the work," Lee said, taking my hand where it had fallen naturally to mom's ass, and moving it around, my palm caressing the roundness of my mother's ass.
I felt the tension leave mom's body, a sudden relaxation, and a very soft sigh.
She made a low humming sound.
And I liked it. I liked the feel of her skin, the roundness of her ass, the warmth where she was already red.
And I liked her womanscent, that pheromone-laden signal of her readiness given by a few million years of evolution.
"Now lift your hand," Lee said and I did.
The tension was back, greater than ever. Mom's whole body seemed to get tense and her ass visibly clenched in an effort to protect herself.
"Now wait," she said, her voice very soft, her breath warm in my ear, "you'll know when it's time."
I waited, the tension across my knees and in her clenched ass obvious.
When she relaxed I struck where she was red and warm.
"Count," Lee said.
I thought back to what I'd heard before and said, "Thirty-five."
"Davey," Lee said, "it's a spanking. It has to hurt. You can't hold back or I'll have to take over."
I realized I did not want her to, as she had put it, "take over."
I was enjoying the feeling of my mother's weight across my thighs, the warmth of the bottom of her breast against my skin, the gentle trembling of her body as she cried, the warmth of her ass where my hand fit so perfectly against its curve.
No, I definitely did NOT want Lee to "take over."
I caressed her ass, almost hot from what I was doing to it, and waited for her to relax.
When she did and I lifted my hand she clenched, in that instant, seeing the sudden tension of those big muscles under that red skin, I was addicted.
I waited and when she relaxed, this time I hit hard. The sound of hand on flesh was loud, the way she flinched and groaned was almost musical. The sting in my palm and the warmth where I laid it felt perfect.
"Thirty-six," I said.
She was shuddering under my left hand and squirming under my right where my palm lightly brushed where she was hot and red.
"That's better," Lee said, smiling. "Bring her to bed when she's done," she added and left the room.
Looking back, I suppose I should have caught her use of the word "bring" rather than "take," but I hope you'll forgive me for being a little distracted just then.
The spanking went on like that. The stroke and the count, the soft caress, the relaxation, the lift of hand, and sudden clenching of muscles.
My mind ran through about a zillion different emotions. I was in love. I wanted to hurt. I was ashamed. I was proud. All of that and more but one thing was clear. I had no intention of stopping.
It wasn't until "eighty-nine" that she exploded.
Her orgasm was spectacular. She cried out, a wordless, "aaaauuuugggghhhhnnnnnngggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," the sound running higher and higher as she breathed out.
She didn't "squirt." She sprayed, her milky thick discharge pumping several feet for the first few seconds of her release, and then she kept pumping, soaking the leg of my jeans and spattering on the hardwood floor.
She kept going like that through "ninety-four" and then she just collapsed.
The only movement was the soft jerking of her sobs as she lay limp, draped across my thighs, whimpering deep in her throat.
And it hit me, this was what Lee had meant by, "done."
I held her there, caressing where she was SO hot under my hand, my left hand lightly rubbing her back, while she cried herself out.
Finally, some measurable fraction of eternity it seemed to me, the soft shudders of crying subsided and stopped.
"Let's get you to bed," I said, as softly as I could.
She seemed to be exhausted. She struggled to stand. I held her hand and then stood, steadying her.
And I looked at her.
She was a mess.
No, that's too gentle a word.
She was a wreck, a bad trainwreck with multiple casualties, a bad trainwreck with multiple casualties onto which a passenger jet had crashed.
And she was beautiful.
Her eyes were red, and black mascara streaks ran down her cheeks. Her nose was red and swollen and running, thick clear snot running down her chin and hanging in thick strings onto her breasts which were shiny. Her mouth was open slightly, and a thick, mucus-laden drool joined the mucus from her nose running down onto her breasts, shiny with it. Looking down I saw her thighs shiny too, with her natural nectar and the result of her sudden and spectacular release. I noticed that the tops of her feet were even slick with it.
But she looked happy too, her eyes, meeting mine, were full of love and desire.
I kissed her, a sloppy, slick, salty kiss.
"Come on," I said, and took her hand, leading her into her bedroom.
"Bathroom," she said and I chuckled and made the turn to lead her into the bathroom.
She sat and peed and it felt natural to just stay there and watch.
Her eyes got suddenly big and she got off of the toilet, onto her knees, and threw up, violently.
It seemed natural to pull her hair out of the way and rub her back while she was sick.
When she was finished I rubbed her back while she gasped for breath and then again as she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth.
"Thank you," she said, almost whispering.
I led her into the bedroom and suddenly understood why Lee had used the word "bring."
She was in bed, waiting, smiling.
She tossed the covers back and patted the mattress.
I helped mom into bed and watched as she laid her head on her pillow and went to sleep, just that quickly.
Lee was smiling.
"Come on, honey," she said, "take off your clothes and crawl in."
She was the precise, mathematical opposite of mom. Where mom was soft and round, Lee was hard and angular. Where mom's hair was so black it was almost blue, Lee's was so red it almost flamed. Where mom's heavy breasts sagged and pale nipples were hard to see, Lee's small breasts stood straight out and very dark, almost red, nipples were hard on top of puckered cones of areolas with big love bumps on them. Where mom had that black, wiry, sparse pubic hair, Lee was perfectly smooth.
And she was beckoning me with open arms.
I peeled my T-shirt off, the one they had given me earlier announcing "18 Today - Kiss Me, I'm Legal," and fumbled my belt loose, the button of my jeans open, and my zipper down. I kicked off my shoes, shoved down my jeans, and damn near fell on my face.
Years later, hell, decades later, when I heard that Blake Shelton song, "Cotton Pickin' Time," I would laugh, drawing a look from anyone nearby, whenever I heard that line - "I fell down, tryin' to kick off my jeans."
I crawled up onto the bed and tried to get my knees between hers but she blocked me by swinging her hip and turning away from me.
"Nuh-uh," she said, giggling and wagging her finger at me. "I'm not one of your high school girls, Davey, if you want me you do it right."
I was still, well, "shock" is probably too strong a word but I was kind of frozen, not sure still what had happened.
"What?" I managed and she giggled.
"Take your time, Davey," she said and reached down and gently patted where I was hard, "there's more to sex than just getting your nut. A woman has her needs too."
"Now kiss me," she said, smiling, "and take your time with it."
So I kissed her and learned, quickly how little I knew.
She spent the next few minutes coaching me on the proper way to kiss a woman. I like to think I'm a fast learner and by the time that lesson was over, I think I was getting pretty good.
She worked her way around her body, teaching me how she liked her breasts played with and sucked, showing me special spots I had never suspected, how sensitive that skin right at the bottom of her armpit was, the special place on the inside of her upper arm, the way she liked fingers to press on her spine all the way down, things like that.
It was between her legs, though, that she really took me to school.
She showed me how she liked her clitoris manipulated, how to roll it around with my finger, and how to change the tempo and the pressure. During that lesson I brought a woman to orgasm for the first time and when her back arched and her mouth opened in that silent scream of her release, when her entire body shuddered and her legs scissored I realized how inadequate I had been in the past.
Once she had her breathing under control she had me straighten up, my knees between hers, while she showed me more of her. As I watched she opened herself up, using her fingertips to pull her labia, her full outer lips apart showing me those folds of her inner lips, pink and shiny with her nectar.I watched, fascinated, hell, captivated, as her fingertips went deeper and she opened herself wider still, letting me peek inside and see what I would later learn, in a Human Anatomy and Physiology class, was her uterus, her womb, the true core of a woman. Then she worked muscles deep in her belly and that pink pear moved forward and her cervix (another word I learned much later) beckoned for a touch. So I touched. It was hot and slick and her body shuddered when I touched it.
Throughout all of this, I was never unaware of my mother's snoring beside us.
"Okay, honey," she said, her voice very husky, "try for some control now, okay?"
I didn't need to reach down and guide myself. We naturally met as I moved forward and pushed my hips forward, entering where she was so slick and ready, with no resistance at all. She was hot and wet and squeezed, almost pulling me deeper, as the hair of my pubic arch met the smoothness of hers.
"Control, Davey," she whispered.
But I was helpless. My body was 18 and finishing the most amazing night I could have imagined. I had no chance at all of holding off.
My hips took over and I finished in just a few seconds.
And it was like nothing I had ever experienced. My body shuddered in that sweet combination of agony and ecstasy, my breathing stopped, and every muscle was rigidly tense.
"I'm sorry," I breathed into her ear.
"Oh honey," she said, a very soft giggle in her voice, "it's okay. You just paid me a great compliment. Thank you."
We lay like that for a while but my body took over again, spent, and I softened and slipped out, making us both hiss sharply.
Laying side by side, kissing softly, she surprised me by saying, "I love you, Davey."
She might have said more but I don't know, I had drifted off.
And that is how my first day as a motherspanker ended.
Becoming a motherfucker would not happen for a few hours.It's been," she said, as my eyes opened, "almost three years since a man did that for me."
I could see it was still dark outside, making it pretty early. This was summer and sunrise comes around 6 o'clock. I had no idea how long I had slept. My memory was operating, though, and I instantly knew where I was. I was also sort of vaguely aware that it was just the two of us in bed. I had no idea where Lee might be.
I didn't say anything but my mind was working just fine, along with my third-grade arithmetic. It had been right at three years when Lee had called mom, asking if she could stay with us "for a while." She had come to the house that evening badly beaten up, with two black eyes, a fat lip, and a serious bruise over the ribs of her left side. Mom had called Don, our cousin, and told him if he showed up at the house she'd shoot him. I suppose he believed her because I don't recall ever seeing him again.
Mom, the nurse, had tended to her and I had lost my bed, consigned to the third bedroom that my father, who I couldn't have picked out of a lineup at that point in my life, had made by converting the garage. It was okay for nine months of the year, with its bunk bed, but the space heating system did not reach there in the winter and I learned to sleep in pajamas and socks.
I suppose, on some level, I had been aware that although they went out pretty regularly, I hadn't seen a new man in the morning lately. I knew these things but they hadn't impinged on my consciousness.
Until now.
I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, as they say, but I ain't the dullest either.
"Since Lee moved in," I said.
"Yes," she said, meeting my eyes.
"And now she takes care of your, well," and I hesitated, seeking the word, "takes care of your 'needs?" I finished, emphasizing that last word.
"Yes," she said for the third time.
"And now will I take care of those needs?" I asked.
She hesitated then, holding my eyes.
"Do you want to?" she asked.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "But do you want me to?" I asked.
"Davey," she said, and for the first time, I sensed some awkwardness.
I watched her face, her eyes jumping up and to the right as she thought, and then doing that jittering thing as she focused on first my right eye and then my left eye.
"Davey," she started again, "it's a very special intimacy. Are you sure you want that?"
Later in life, as I was attending a training program to learn how to analyze financial statements to decide whether to offer government-backed financing to businesses, I first heard the phrase "no-brainer" when one of the cases we were studying was so obvious no thinking was involved in the "yes" decision. When I heard that phrase I started laughing because it had triggered my memory of this morning.
I reached over, dig my fingers into that mass of her black hair, pulled her to me, and kissed her.
It was a good kiss. Not as good as she and Lee taught me later, but nonetheless, a good kiss.
"I want it all," I said, my hand running up and down her back. I smiled at the little wince when my hand reached her ass and I squeezed a little.
"Davey," she said, her voice carrying a hint of a whine, almost fear.
I stopped her with a kiss.
"Davey," she started again, but this time the fear was gone, replaced by desire.
Her womanscent signaled her desire better than any words could. The pheromone-laden perfume of her arousal filled the room suddenly, and it was different from any girl I had ever been with.
And that's how I thought of it. They were girls (all four of them). I was laying in bed with a woman now.
When I kissed her for the third time I heard, for the first time, that soft hum deep in her throat that I would come to crave.
It was another good kiss, and she wasn't holding back anymore. Apparently, she had lost, or maybe she had won, the argument with herself and decided to shed her inhibitions. She was arching her body, molding herself to me. Her mouth was hungry and her tongue was a living thing itself, probing and seeking.
When her hand found me, hard, she giggled.
"I guess your old mom isn't too beat up for you, huh," she said, giggling and reaching a little lower, cupping my balls and giving them just enough of a squeeze to make me squirm.
She pushed, gently, rolling me onto my back, giggling a bit and kissing me as she did.
"If it's all the same to you," she said, her smile infectious, "I think I'll get on top. You seem to have left me with a bit of a sore butt."
I said nothing while she swung her leg over me, straddling, that wiry hair of her pubis slightly scratchy against my scrotum. She bent to kiss me, moving slowly to drag heavy breasts over my belly and then my chest as she moved up to finish the kiss. It was a long, lingering kiss, her tongue busy, her breathing quickening, her hands moving to find my ribs and move up. She found my nipples with her fingers and pinched, drawing a little groan.
She entwined her fingers with mine, capturing my hands, and pressed them up beside my head as she moved her body just enough to feel my hardness against her and then to slowly take me into her body.
My breath caught.
My breath literally caught. I couldn't inhale. I couldn't exhale. The sensation was too perfect.
The girls I had been with before had been slick and tight, but that was it. Lee had been loose, almost no resistance, until she had used those educated muscles.
But with mom, it wasn't a matter of being tight or loose. It was perfect. We didn't just, you know, "fit." We "matched." As she accepted me into her body it was as if every cell gave a quick kiss as my cell passed on its way deeper, and in the end, every cell found its mate and embraced, kissed, and caressed. Hell, it's like every cell made love to its mate.
And I could tell she was feeling it too. Like me, she wasn't breathing. Her eyes were wide open and her lips were parted. She was looking into my eyes. Her fingers were clamped onto mine, her nails digging in just short of painfully.
I can't tell you how long that first perfect contact lasted. Time had no meaning right then. This was paradise, Hell, this was the Garden of Eden and we were Adam and Eve before she developed that taste for apples (or whatever that damn forbidden fruit was).
This was perfection.
When you read that trite phrase, "one perfect body where two imperfect halves had been," well, I know what that means. I lived it in that perfect first merging with my mother.
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, not quite a gasp, and then hissed, "oh Jesusssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss," almost whistling the last consonant.
I managed to suck in my own breath and said, "yeah, oh Jesus."
Her eyes suddenly went even wider and she came, just like that. I felt the sudden gush of her release, soaking me, soaking both of us, the sweet nectar of her release thick and hot, her body rigid with her ecstasy.
Her fingers were still locked with mine and I realized she was actually drooling a little, her mouth open, still breathing in shuddering gasps.
"Oh Jesussssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss," she said for the second time.
I guess my recovery time was better than hers because this time I managed to chuckle and said, "oh Jesus" back, but I was grinning.
"I didn't know," she said softly, her voice thick and husky now, as if she needed to clear her throat, "God, Davey, I didn't know it would be like that."
When she tried to pull her hands away I held her captured.
"Stay with me," I said, softly, "and do that again."
She giggled and said, "Davey, it's not something I can do on command."
I worked those muscles deep in my belly that I knew would move me inside of her. Her eyes got big and her breathing stopped.
"Again," I said, and her eyes closed and I could feel her body tensing.
"Come on," I said, still holding her hands captive, putting some urgency into my voice.
"OH JESUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," she cried out, and came again, spectacularly. Her release was so hot and wet I thought her bladder control had failed but all I could smell was pure womanscent.
"Keep going," I said, squeezing her fingers even harder as she tried to pull free.
"DAVEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY," she yelled as she came explosively, the rush of her pleasure soaking us both. Her body clenched and relaxed and clenched and relaxed and clenched and relaxed. The last time she just collapsed. She buried her face in my neck, her drool and snot making it slick where we touched.
"Oh Jesus, oh God, oh Jesus, oh God," she was chanting as her body trembled and she slowly relaxed.
I was still hard and deep inside of her, still reveling in that perfect merging. My hands were exploring her now, finding the bumps of her spine, the hard shape of her shoulder blades, the wide bone at the base of her spine, and reaching lower, finding the point of her tailbone right at the top of her gluteal cleft, her asscrack.
She sighed and relaxed.
"I had no idea," she said, softly, into my throat.
"I don't know how you could have," I said, my brain kind of kicking into gear although it was the small head deep inside of her that was still very much in control.
"I love you," she said, and the way she said it took me over the top. This wasn't mom saying a quick, "love you" to her son. This was a woman saying "I love you," to a man.
And I exploded.
Her eyes got big as I came, my body filling her in four distinct waves that left me gasping.
"Oh my," she said, very softly, holding still, holding me inside of her.
"Yeah, oh my," I breathed, more like I gasped.
She moved suddenly, her legs locking with mine, her knees outside of mine, and our ankles touching.
We were both sweaty and panting as we lay, me still inside of her although I was already starting to soften. My balls ached vaguely, and deep in my belly was another ache, my prostate, overworked with the power of my ejaculation.
"Oh myyyyy," she said softly again and then whimpered as I softened and slipped out with an audible little splash as she leaked, spattering a little.
"Oh fucking MY," she said softly, shuddering, her heels drumming on the mattress a little before she relaxed and let her legs fall to lay on the bed outside of mine.
She exploded into action then. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me about fifty times before I could react.
Her nose was running now and the kisses were slick, tasting slightly salty. I liked them. She was crying a little too, sort of a hysterical mixture of tears and laughter. It was like it was her last burst of energy because after that flurry of kisses she rolled off of me and sort of collapsed back onto the pillow, breathing hard, her breath a little bubbly until she cleared her throat noisily.
"I never imagined," she said.
I really had nothing to say so I kissed her and then settled, my head in the softness of her shoulder, and found her nipple with my mouth, taking it in. It felt natural to take more of the tissue, the nipple, and areola and then a little more of that oddly firm tissue right behind her nipple. On some instinctive level, where behavior is full-blown at birth, it felt natural to begin gently caressing her nipple against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, sucking gently, the soft vacuum pulling her deeper. I could feel her swelling as she started brushing my hair and humming softly and tunelessly.
It felt natural too, to run my hand down her belly and feel the wiry coarseness of her pubic hair. She was hot and swollen and slick where I touched and she parted her legs in pleasant supplication as my fingertips played. I found the hard little button of her clitoris, still very VERY swollen. I tapped it lightly with my fingertip, making her giggle and squirm.
Unbidden, but I suppose always there somewhere, deep in my mind, way down where the lizards of my evolutionary ancestors reside, came a thought.
As I caressed her, very lightly between her legs, feeling the way her hips moved and wondering if that was involuntary, I asked the question that had popped into my mind. "Is it ONLY your ass that needs the spanking?"
She froze. For a long minute, she didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't speak.
Finally, she said, "it's only my ass that has gotten the spankings."
I smiled and said, "maybe next time we try something different?" as my fingers kept caressing where she was swollen and hot and wet.
When she didn't say anything I knew I had won although I wasn't really very sure what the game was.I slept more then, snuggled against my mother's breast, her hand light on my shoulder.
When I woke, I instantly remembered everything of the night before, and the morning for that matter, and I was disappointed that I was alone in bed. But I needed, desperately, to pee. So I took care of that and then I brushed my teeth before pulling on a pair of shorts and going in search of coffee.
Mom and Lee were sitting at the table, drinking coffee. I checked their cups, took mom's which was empty, and poured a fresh one for me and one for her as well. Back at the dining room table, I sat, making a little triangle with mom to my left, Lee to my right, and me at the head of the table.
"Sooooooooooo," Lee said with a giggle, "whatcha thinkin'?"
"Honestly?" I said, taking the first sip, "I'm overwhelmed."
Lee stood and came to stand by me, putting her hand on my shoulder.
When I turned to face her I was eye-to-pussy with the bright orange bush, thick and curly, of a true redhead. The T-shirt she had on was too short to cover her completely.
"The question is," she said, her hand lightly on my shoulder, "man of the house," and the way she said that brought home more than just the unclothed bush I was looking at could, that things had changed, "is there room in your household for me?"
Mom stood then, and came to the other side of me, mirroring Lee's position and pose, her hand on my shoulder.
And again I was eye-to-pussy, this time with her coarse, black, sparse pubic hair.
"It's up to you, Davey," she said, "but if I'm allowed to say, I'd like her to stay with us."
I managed to get my eyes up to meet mom's and then to meet Lee's.
"I'm overwhelmed," I said again.
Lee bent down and kissed me.
"It's up to you," she said.
Mom bent down and kissed me.
"It's up to you," she said.
And they returned to their seats.
I finished my coffee and went for a refill.
When I got back to the table, Lee was gone and mom was sitting there.
"Davey," she said, and from the look on her face I knew her coffee had been spiked with her ever-present vodka bottle, "you know we didn't plan last night, don't you?"
I smiled and said, "Yes," as I reached across the table for the bottle and poured myself a shot into my coffee.
Yeah, I grimaced at the taste.
"But it happened, Davey, and I don't regret it," she said, reaching over and touching my hand.
When I didn't say anything she went on.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" she asked, "how perfectly we matched."
I smiled and said, "yes."
"I am yours," she said simply, "I'll never find anyone like you."
I didn't have anything to say to that.
"But Davey," she said, pausing for another drink from her fortified coffee, "Lee has been very good to me and I'd like her to stay."
Finally, I spoke.
"With us?" I asked.
She smiled then, a big, real smile, shading into a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.
She covered my hand with hers and said, "it's a big bed, honey, why don't you try it out?"
I suppose I was being naive. Okay, I was being stupidly naive, but I said, "huh?"
She giggled at that, that delightfully high-pitched giggle that made her sound like a schoolgirl.
"Finish your coffee, honey," she said, "and try her. I'm going to shower now."
I watched as she walked away, finding the round bruises on her ass to be oddly sexy. And I thought she put some extra swing into her hips as she walked away.
So I finished my coffee, feeling a slight buzz as the vodka took hold, stood, and walked into the bedroom.
She was waiting for me and I realized I had seen that pose before. She was in the same position as Marilyn Monroe was, famously, in the first edition of Playboy Magazine. She was on her right side, her right arm stretched out over the pillow, her right leg straight, toes pointed, with her left leg bent at the hip and the knee, showing her ass nicely but completely hiding her pussy in the fashion of 1950s skin magazines. Her body was twisted at the waist, her left arm stretched over the other pillow, and her breasts proudly displayed.
All of that was nice but it was the smile on her face that got to me. It was pure sexual invitation.
Okay, I stopped and stared.
"I won't say 'no,' Davey," she said, her voice throaty, husky, and soft.
And I knew, on that same sort of instinctive level, what to say.
"Don't move," I said, moving around the bed, looking, liking the way her eyes followed me.
Finally I just lightly caressed the line of her ass, firm and round.
"I think you need what you were giving mom when I walked in last night," I said.
She sort of moaned.
"Or are you going to start saying 'no' already?" I asked.
She held out her arms but I stepped back, waggled my finger, and said, "nuh-uh, not until after your spanking."
I left the bedroom. In the dining room, mom was drinking coffee again. She looked up and said, "what did you decide."
I chuckled, picked up one of the chairs, said, "the jury's still out," and went into the front room where I put the chair on the floor right where it had been when I walked in last night.
She followed in a few seconds, cup and bottle in hand, eyes a little shiny, and sat on the couch.
I sat in the chair and waited.
Mom lit one of her Kools, gave me a twisted smile, poured a strong shot into her coffee, and leaned back, her knees parted enough to show me her pussy.
We waited.
It was one of those timeless moments as we waited, mom smoking and drinking, me just peeking. I really don't know how long passed. A few minutes certainly, but sometime just set a timer and stand quietly for one minute while someone else times it to get some idea of how time can stop. It was THAT kind of moment.
I heard the bathroom door close and waited again.
When Lee walked in it was obvious she had spent her time in the bathroom doing something other than peeing and pooping. Her hair was carefully styled and her makeup was perfect. She looked very good as she walked in, head high, back straight, naked as the day she was born.
She walked to me, absolutely silent on her bare feet, stood at the right of my chair for a few seconds, met my eyes and then mom's for a long second before slowly bending and accepting the classic over-the-knees position across my lap.
I met mom's eyes across Lee's body and saw her lick her lips, take a drink, and light another cigarette. Her hands were trembling.
The ass under my hand was smooth and firm and toned. An athlete's ass, like the rest of her body. I knew she swam miles a day and it showed in the tone of her body.
The spanking lingered, and I enjoyed it. I liked it all. I liked the feel of my hand on her skin. I liked the color I brought. I smiled at her tears and the shuddering of her body as she cried. Hell, I liked that I was making her cry, and that kind of frightened me on some level.
She almost got away when she came. My hand between her shoulder blades almost lost purchase as she squirmed, her body porpoising, legs kicking, screaming her release. But I hung on and entwined my fingers in her hair, making her cry out with a fresh indignity.
I kept her going through three more orgasms, each more powerful than the last until she was simply limp across my knees.
When she had herself back under control, at least to the point of not bawling, I gave one final pat on her ass and said, "good girl, now grab me a Coke please."
She stood, a bit unsteadily, and walked, also a bit unsteadily, to the kitchen.
"Make it a beer," I called after her.
I had been focused so tightly on Lee and her ass that I was surprised when I looked up and realized that mom was masturbating. She stopped when our eyes met, and I said, "oh no, don't stop."
I watched her as Lee brought my beer and stood beside me with it.
So we watched together as mom finished with a soft cry. That was the first time I ever saw her cumface, that strange rictus of pleasure and pain chasing each other across her face as her mouth was open wide in a silent scream of release.
I stood, feeling my oats I suppose, suffused with the new power I was feeling, and held out my hands.
"It's a big bed," I said, smiling, feeling that power in my erection, "let's try it out."
That first weekend of my new life was an orgy.
I had Lee first, with my mother laying beside us. She was different from mom, none of that perfect match. Rather, when I took her she was loose and sloppy, with almost no friction until she squeezed with an amazingly strong set of vaginal muscles. Mom was drinking and smoking and masturbating again as I took what I wanted, slowly, making it linger, enjoying Lee and enjoying being watched as I had her.
I kissed her, a snot-slick, salty kiss from the way she had been crying. I laid back and took mom's cigarette, inhaling, coughing, and getting that nicotine rush that would be my constant companion for the next 35 years.
I relaxed, wallowing in the power I was feeling. And I was FULL of power. The two women in my life were lightly tickling my body.
We laid like that for a few minutes before I felt mom start kissing down my body. I was soft. Hell, I was 18 but not superman. But when she took me into her mouth, sucking gently, my body responded and she brought me erect.
When she swung her leg over and impaled herself, cowgirl style, there was the perfect match again. The perfect merging of our bodies.
She grinned at Lee and said, "show him what else we like."
I was surprised when Lee climbed around until her pussy was right over my face. It was dripping my semen as she slowly lowered herself.
And it seemed natural, somehow, to open my mouth and accept as she settled onto my face. The taste of my semen was salty and oily, and it mixed with her taste. I was instantly addicted and my tongue seemed like an independent thing, probing, tasting, seeking more.
Mom was rocking her hips, her coarse public hair scratchy against me. Lee started too, matching mom's rhythm, that thick curly hair soft against my face. When I started to reach up, Lee adjusted her position, trapping my wrists under her knees. I tried to yell. That hurt. But I was unable to move. Well, except for the pain in my wrists, I didn't want to move.
Lee came, suddenly, and it felt like I was being waterboarded. Her release filled my mouth until it overflowed, and when I tried to cough I felt it suddenly running out my nose.
I felt the tension leave her and she settled onto me.
I couldn't breathe.
Mom's rhythm was speeding up, I could feel the tension building.
I couldn't breathe.
Lee's body was almost limp she was so relaxed.
I was starting to panic, well, my body was starting to panic, from lack of oxygen. I started thrashing around, trying to get a breath.
That's when I felt mom cum and I was right there with her.
Jesus, it felt like my whole body was running out of my cock. It wasn't an ejaculation like any I had experienced before. There were none of the hard muscular contractions to pump my seed deep into a woman's womb. I was flowing, not pumping, like that instant when an ejaculation starts.
And it kept going.
Right up until I lost consciousness.
I woke, well, maybe the better description would be, "I came too," to the feeling of fingertips tickling me.
"Thank you, baby," mom said, kissing me softly as Lee's fingers tickled.
I drew breath to say something like, "no, thank you," but Lee's mouth covered mine.
When she broke the kiss mom covered my mouth with hers. This time Lee pinched my nose shut. When I breathed in mom breathed out and when I breathed out, mom breathed in.
We shared that breath until the oxygen was used up.
When mom broke the kiss, gasping a deep breath, Lee took over, her mouth covering mine, and we shared her breath until, again, the oxygen was used up.
"Now THAT," mom said, and the smile on her face was different than any look on her face I had ever seen before, "is intimacy."
She giggled softly and said, "Lee, honey, get my son a beer please."
As we watched her leave the bedroom, her pretty ass swinging nicely, mom turned to me and caught my face between her palms, her eyes locked on mine.
"Well, Man of the House," she said, and her intonation made the capitalization obvious, "what is your decision? May Lee stay?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah," I said.