It was hard for me to believe, and every time I thought about it, my mind spun. I had just done something that wasn't supposed to be done. I had screwed my own mom.
I leaned forward and pressed my forearms against the cool tile of the shower wall. The hot water beat down on my shoulders and neck as I hung my head down. As the water coursed down my back and legs, an image suddenly popped into my head - an image of the previous night, of my own mother lying back on top of me, me grabbing at her tits, of us- Oh my god! Fucking!
I felt nervous, filled with discomfort; my heart was pumping. How could I face her again? My god, how embarrassing! And all that mommy/baby stuff we were saying - where did that come from? Yet even through the shame and confusion, I felt my cock grow heavy and solid, just thinking about how she had felt.
This was crazy. I felt like I was going to explode. I closed my eyes and forced the images from my head; there would be time to worry about this later, plenty of time, I was sure. I finished washing up and stepped out of the shower.
I dried quickly and shaved, then, wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, I went out into the bedroom. Mom was still sleeping there, her long dark and silver hair spread out in a fan on the sheet, her thin cotton nightgown pushed out to the sides by her flattened sagging boobs. I couldn't look away. Now that I knew my mother as a sexual creature, it was hard to flip my mind back and just see her as "mom". Just looking at her reminded me of the feel of my dick in her pussy and our moans and cries as we fucked in the hot tub. My cheeks reddened, and the guilt overcame me again.
I quickly left the room, closing the door behind me, and went out to the living room where I put away the blanket and pillow I had used on the couch last night. By the time we returned from the hot tub, the tension between us had become awkward and uncomfortable. We didn't even speak, just went our separate ways, with just the merest hug and muttered good night. I don't know what my mom had been feeling, but my own mind was stunned by just how fucked up this was, and how it could change everything completely. Man oh man, my mind had raced until the wee hours of the morning.
I went about my morning ritual like a robot, mechanically making coffee, dressing, eating some yogurt and fruit, and then I sat down to check my email. When I realized that after twenty minutes I still hadn't finished reading the first message because my mind kept drifting off into worry, I got up. I looked into the bedroom to see that Mom was still sleeping, so I left a note on the counter saying I would be back soon and went for a walk.
When I got back to the apartment an hour or so later, I had picked up a copy of the paper for Mom, because she refused to use computers. I unlocked the door and went in. My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, clad in her blue robe, drinking a cup of coffee. She turned her head to look at me, but when our eyes met, both of us quickly looked away.
"Um, good morning," I muttered. "Here's the paper." I held it out to her.
She took it from me. "Thank you, baby," she said, and then she bit her lip. Obviously she was reminded of last night as quickly as I was when she said that, and I imagined her cheeks were burning like mine were.
"You're welcome," I replied after a long pause. I didn't know what else to say. I felt like an idiot. I felt like a pervert. And even as I stood there silently, in my mind I imagined leaping across the short space between us, bridging the chasm and dragging her to me, forcing my mouth onto hers, roughly kneading her breast with my hand, and this was almost worse than the shame of knowing what we had done - wanting it, somewhere tortured inside me, to happen again. Abruptly I turned and walked away down the hall.
I grabbed a book at random off of my bookshelf and then went back out and into the living room. I sat on the couch and opened the book and tried to read, but I couldn't concentrate. I sat there for several minutes, and when I turned my head, I saw that Mom and the newspaper were gone, probably to the bathroom.
I put the book down on the coffee table and stretched. I didn't know what to do, or how to approach my mom. Every time I imagined talking to her, all I could feel was embarrassment. I loved her still, but the love and trust which a man normally has for his mother was all swirled up with desire and lust and guilt, roiling in my mind ceaselessly. Even if we could come to accept we had done this, where could it go? What possible ending could it have but a bad one? With my thoughts still muddled and confused, I lifted my feet up onto the sofa, turned, and laid my head back on the arm of the sofa. My eyes shut.
***
When they opened , the sun was no longer shining brightly in through the front windows. It had passed to the west, leaving the room shady. The first thing my eyes focused on was a note taped to the door. I sat up, then got up and walked to the door. The note was in my mother's neat handwriting, and it said simply, "I have gone shopping. I'll be back to make you dinner. Love, Mom." My eyes blurred momentarily, and I pulled the note from the door, crumpling it in my hand. I was mad at her for leaving, except that I realized that I had done the same thing, first with my own note, and then by falling asleep. How could I be mad at her for simply mirroring my actions?
I laughed at myself then, and felt a little better than I had all day. My spirits lifted slightly; thinking of my mom without the sexual component settled me down somewhat. I began to clean the house.
I was washing the dishes from breakfast when I heard the door open, and my Mom call, "Can you help me, please?"
I dried my hands on a dish towel and then walked to the door. My mom was making her way in carrying several grocery bags. I quickly grabbed them from her, and as I walked to the kitchen, she turned to get another that was still outside the door. I began putting the food away, seeing lots of vegetables, fish, rice, beans, and fruit. Healthy food. My mom walked into the kitchen carrying the last bag, and I turned from folding the bags to look at her.
She was wearing a brightly colored skirt with handwoven human figures cavorting on it. Her shirt was a bright blue sleeveless blouse, and a looped necklace of silver rice-beads hung from her neck. Her hair was pulled up behind her, and her soft brown eyes looked directly at mine. She had strange look on her face, and I could see the faint wrinkles at the corner of her mouth and eyes. I reached out and took the bag from her and without looking away, I placed it on the counter to my left. Then I took the initiative.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I began. I stepped toward her. "I feel like I've been ignoring-"
"Hey, it's okay," she interrupted. "Don't worry about it. You've got enough to think about without me messing it up."
I couldn't let her take the responsibility for what we had done. "But-"
"But nothing." She planted her hands on her hips. "I said don't worry. What's done is done."
I froze, then - too late - reached out to her, but she was already turning away. I hissed under my breath with frustration, then unpacked the last bag angrily. As I finished, Mom came back into the kitchen. I turned to face her, determined not to miss my chance. I lifted my arms, and as she brushed by me, I turned her to face me, my hands on her shoulders. I looked straight into her eyes, waited while she looked away, then looked back. She looked sad.
"I really am sorry, Mom," I said. My fingers tightened slightly on her shoulders, but she made no response. "I shouldn't have done what I- what-" I trailed off. Her expression didn't change. I stepped forward and hugged her, but she was unresponsive, and barely put her arms around me, then pushed me away after a second. "Mom?" I asked.
"I want to cook dinner," she said quietly. "I'm hungry."
I let go of her and walked out of the kitchen. The feelings of rejection that were running through me were overwhelming. It wasn't even that I wanted my mom sexually right now; I just wanted my mom. What was going on? Why couldn't I say what I wanted. Hell, what did I want? What did she want? The questions kept coming. Did she hate me for what had happened? Resent me? Did she want it to happen again, or for us never to speak of it? I felt frustrated and alone, and the happiness which had briefly sustained me slowly ebbed away.
I sat at the computer and idly played a game. Eventually my mother called from the kitchen that dinner was ready, and I slowly got up, went to wash my hands, and then made my way to the table. There was a seat set for one, a salad, and a beautifully cooked filet of fish with rice and asparagus. I looked into the kitchen, and there was a used plate on the counter. My mom had eaten before calling me, then left me to my meal.
I couldn't take it. I wasn't hungry. I went to the door of the bedroom, and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again.
"I'm tired," came my mother's voice through the door. "I'm going to bed."
"I need to talk to you," I replied. "Mom!" There was no answer. I stood there for a minute, and seeing nothing was forthcoming, I went back down the hall, and sat on the sofa. What was happening? My mom was only here for another day, but I couldn't bear the thought of another day like this one, empty and alone. What could I do? How could I make this situation better? How could I fix it? Was it even possible, or were my mother and I destined to part on morose, empty terms, never to even share our original mother-son bond? I pulled off my t-shirt, balled it up, and threw it at the door. The situation felt hopeless. I scrubbed my face with my hands furiously, as if I could wash away all the emotions that churned within me.
I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I heard the door to the bedroom open, and then my mother's steps coming down the hall. I didn't bother to turn. There was a long pause when she entered the living room, so long that I began to wonder if I was imagining it. Just as I made up my mind to turn and look, I heard my mother's clothing rustle as she began to walk again, and I felt her presence loom up behind me. I sat, silent, not knowing what to do.
Then I felt her hands on my shoulders. Her touch, just that tiny bit of touch was like calm poured onto my emotional storm, and it blew everything out of my mind but the velvety feeling of her fingers on my skin. She just stood there for several seconds, and then she slid her fingers down onto my upper arms and then back up to my shoulders. The tiny hairs on my neck stood up and goosepimples formed on my arms. Her touch was so smooth, it was like nothing I had felt before. I was afraid to do anything to break the spell of the moment, so I continued to just sit there. My mother repeated the movement of her hands over my arms and shoulders again, and then her hands slid down onto the front of my shoulders and pulled me against the back of the couch. My head lolled backward, and I felt it rest on the softness of her rounded belly. She rubbed her hands softly up and down from my neck to my upper arms, and electricity crackled underneath her palms and fingers. Energy was coursing wildly through my body, and my heart was racing, but I remained outwardly calm, concentrating only on how good it felt to have my mom touching me again.
"I'm sorry," she murmured finally. "I'm sorry I was so cold to you, baby."
I tried to lean forward to look up at her, but she held me pressed against the couch, against her soft stomach. "Mom," I replied quietly, "it's me who should be sorry. And I am. I am so sorry. I have never felt so empty before."
"Oh, honey," she said in a concerned voice, it catching in her throat. "I don't want you to feel like that. I'm so sorry." She bent down over me, and as she did I felt the meaty heaviness of her breasts touching and then dragging over the top of my head before they plopped down behind me as she continued to bend over, finally leaning to my right side to plant a kiss on my temple, inadvertently dragging her left breast over my neck as she did. She pulled back for a second, unbending a little, and then her left arm went around my neck and over my chest while her right arm wrapped around my head and pulled it toward her, hugging my head to her so that the entire right side of my face was pressed tightly to her left breast, only the thin layer of white cotton of her nightgown between us, my nose pointed directly into the depths between her boobs.
"I love you, mom," I said, my voice muffled as I talked against her cleavage. "I'm so sorry I couldn't say anything. I was so worried about what happened. I don't even know how to feel."
"It's okay," my mom said. She hugged my head to her, rocking it gently back and forth, and then she kissed the top of my head. "I don't know how to feel either." She unwrapped her arms from me and lifted my chin with her fingers, looking into my eyes with her deep brown ones. "But I do know that I miss my baby boy." She let her hand drop. "I do miss you, you know." She stood there, and I pushed myself up from the couch, stood, and turned to face her. The couch was between us, hiding her from the hips down, but I could see that she was wearing an long white cotton nightgown. It was either threadbare or made to be somewhat sheer because as I gazed at her, I could see the curve where her big saggy teats pushed it away from her chest, the slope of them curving back in, leaving an inch or two of opaque fabric before her stomach pushed the gown forward again. Her nipples were stiff, and I could see not only their dark plumpness through the material, but also the large brown circles of her aureoles. She didn't move, but her breathing deepened as I inspected her, and when my eyes lifted to her face, she was smiling shyly, even though fear as well was written across her countenance.
I smiled at her, trying to erase my own fear and confusion while reassuring her, then I lifted my left arm and extended my hand to her. She lifted her right hand to mine, and then I gently pulled her toward the end of the couch, walking toward it myself, until she came around the end of the couch and we found ourselves facing each other. We stayed there, a couple feet apart, still holding hands, and her eyes dropped from my face, and slowly travelled down my chest to my own slightly rounded belly, and then down to my boxers, and just seeing her look there made my already hardening cock throb, and I could tell she saw it too, because she made a small intake of air, and then she lifted her gaze back up to my face. I smiled again, and then I let my eyes drop myself, again seeing the lumps of her puffy nipples poking against the fabric of her nightgown, and then down to her stomach and below where her hips flared generously, and I imagined I could see a darkness where her legs joined together. I lifted my eyes again, running them hungrily over her body, and then back up to her face and I saw she was smiling too.
I stepped forward and pulled on her hand, making her step forward too, and then we were face to face, our bodies just inches from each other; the heat between us smoldering so intensely I felt as if I would catch on fire. I looked into her eyes. "I don't know exactly what to say, Mom," I began, "but I know that I can't let you leave here with us hating each other. I couldn't bear it." I almost sobbed as I spoke the words, holding back the vast wave of emotion that swept over me.
"I agree," my mom replied in a husky voice, and the relief rushed through me like a flood. She paused for a second, considering her words. "I don't know that I agree with what we did..." She paused. "But I do know that I wasn't lying when I said it was great to have you back in my arms again. I've missed you so much." Her fingers tightened on mine.
"Oh, mom," was all I could choke out before I closed the remaining distance between us and swept her up in a crushing hug. I let go of her hand and wrapped both my arms around her back. Her arms came up as I did, encircling my waist, and we mashed ourselves against each other, all the sadness of the day washing away in the great feelings of love and contentment that washed through me as I held my mom in my arms. It wasn't a sexual thing right now, it was just sweet mother love, my mom's devotion to me evident in the strength and tightness with which she clung to me, her round belly pressed unselfconsciously against my lower stomach, her boobs mashed against my stomach, her head nestled against my chest, her forehead touching my chin. I pulled her against me more tightly, my arms wrapping her inside them, holding her against me as if I couldn't bear to let her go. We stayed like that for several minutes, not saying a word, just revelling in the sheer joy of our bodies touching, our hearts in agreement, just a mother and son demonstrating the love they share show through an extended, loving hug.
Eventually it had to end.
As we stood there, pressed against each other, I became more and more aware of my mother's lush body, of her stiff nipples poking into my chest, of the pressure of her warm stomach against me, of the feel of her plump waist under my fingers, and of the expanse of meaty ass just below where my hands rested. I pulled my head back a little, and then my mom did the same, and she looked up at me. Our eyes met, and I felt a surge of passion and lust that made my knees weak. My mother was breathing very heavily, and her fingers were digging tightly into my back. I leaned my head down, slowly getting nearer to my mom's face, our eyes never leaving each other, and as our faces drew closer, it was as if we were communicating without words. First a question, and then the answer, yes, yes, and yes. My lips parted slightly as they neared my mother's lips, and then I could feel her hot breath on my face. We stared into each other's eyes, and my mothers hands tightened convulsively. I held my position as long as I could stand it, feeling the desire to kiss my mother grow stronger and stronger until I could no longer withstand its force. With a groan, I lowered my lips onto my mother's mouth, and she moaned into my mouth as our lips met, searing me with the heat of her desire.
We kissed hungrily, deeply, our mouths opening wide, pressing against each other, our tongues sliding out and then meeting, swirling around each other, wrestling, sucking and slipping over each other. We breathed heavily through our noses, not wanting to let our mouths come apart for even a moment, and then, as it had last night, the conscious knowledge that it was my very own mother I was french-kissing swept over me, and it made the passion of our lovers' kiss intensify until it felt as if the only thing in the universe that could satisfy me was my own mother's mouth on mine, her tongue pressing and playing with mine.
My hands slid down from my mother's waist as we continued to suck hungrily at each other's mouths. Her hands were roaming all over my back, sliding back and forth over my skin, from my waist to my shoulders. I felt my hands slide down onto the wide, soft cheeks of her ass, and I spread my fingers as wide as I could and then tightened them into my mother's flesh, lifting her slightly as I pulled at her buttocks. My mother gasped into my mouth then, and as I continued to pull hungrily at her ass, she began to kiss me even more urgently, our faces cocked to the sides so that our wide-open mouths could press completely against each other, the breath whistling in and out of our nostrils a counterpoint to the wordless moans that we both had begun to emit.
My mother's ripe body felt like heaven to me. This heavy flesh was what I had hungered for without knowing it, this thick body the one which ignited my desire into a screaming incandescent lust. I kissed her back, driving my tongue into her mouth, swirling it around her tongue, invading her mouth and then withdrawing, forcing her to suck my tongue back into hers. My hands pulled at her ass, spreading her open, her stance widening slightly, and then my mother pulled her head back from mine, our mouths slowly separating, saliva strings hanging between our lips.
"oh, god," my mother groaned. "I can't believe how good you feel."
"Me too, mom," I panted. I let go of her buttocks and my mom sank down back from her tiptoes. My hands went to her waist, and I just looked at her. Her lips were red with passion and still parted moistly. I stepped back and her hands went to my waist and then as I stepped back again, I caught her hands in mine. She smiled. I continued walking backward, pulling my mother with me until I had her standing with the back of her calves against the sofa. I then let go of her hands and then, my hands on her shoulders, pushed her gently down into a sitting position on the couch.
My mother looked up at me. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, her hands on the edge of the seat cushions. Her gray and black hair hung down, framing her face.
"Oh, mom," I said tenderly. I knelt in front of her, pushing her legs apart, and then I put my hands on her thighs. She gasped. I scooted forward on my knees, and as I did, I slid my hands along her thighs until I felt the soft roundness of her stomach. I slid my hands around the side of her belly, pressing myself forward against her, then slid my hands further and down to her hips where they pressed against the sofa. My stiff cock was pressing at my boxers, and as I scooted as far as I could go, I felt my throbbing penis press against my mother's lower belly. I slid my fingers underneath her heavy hips, spreading them wide to catch as much of her body in them as I could, then I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers.
"Ungh," she moaned as I pulled at her butt, grinding myself against her. Our lips pressed tightly against each other, but our kiss was almost chaste this time, just our lips pressing softly together. My mother's arms came up to encircle my neck, and I slid my right hand out from underneath her and lifted it to her soft huge tit, cupping the outside of the heavy curve in my palm, and as we continued to press out lips together, I lifted her sagging breast in my hand, supporting the heavy titflesh in my hand.
"Oh, god," I groaned. The feel of my mother's breast in my hand was magical. It was plump and swollen and soft, and I slid my hand over the front of it, my fingers moving easily over the thin material of her gown. I kept her tit pressed up against her chest as my hand moved over the front until I felt her stiff nipple underneath my fingers. I pushed the nipple up, too, bending the stiff nub of flesh upward into the meat of her breast.
"Ungh," my mother cried out, her lips pulling back from our tender kiss. "Oh fuck, baby, do you know what you are doing to your mother?" She hissed as I let her nipple spring back forward, then groaned deeply as I used my thumb and fingers to pinch gently at her nipple through the thin cotton of the gown, pinching it just enough so that I could pull it forward until her saggy tit stretched with it. When her nipple popped free of my grasp, my mom cried out. "Oh, fuck, baby, oh fuck! What are you doing to me?"
"Nothing that you aren't doing to me, mom," I answered. I reached my hand up again and began to fondle her stiff nipple, pinching it and rolling it between my thumb and fingers, and my mom pushed me back from her a little as I continued to rub and push at her swollen tit, and she started to run her hands over my shoulders and chest, the satiny touch of her fingers inflaming me just as much as the feel of her squishy motherly breast in my hand. I reached my right hand up, my left hand still pulling rythymically at her right hip, and as I ran my fingers lightly down her neck to her left shoulder, my mom leaned forward and put her head against my left shoulder.
"Oh, honey," she murmured against me, her hands sliding down to move over my chest and waist, coming closer and closer to the waistband of my boxers, but never quite touching it.
I grabbed the hem of her gown which sat on her shoulder, and I pulled it to the side, sliding it down over her shoulder.
"Oh, fuck, baby," my mom moaned into my shoulder. "Jesus!" Her hands slid around me and I could feel her fingernails scraping gently up my back until my mom clung to me, her arms underneath my armpits, her hands curling up to clutch at my shoulders.
I pulled her gown down lower. My mom sat up as the gown stopped, constrained by the buttons which prevented it from sliding over her tits. Her hands withdrew from me, and she lifted her fingers to the pearly buttons. I grabbed her fingers in my left hand and then lifted them to my mouth, and as I kissed her fingertips, I straightened up and then reached up and slid my hand down inside my mother's nightgown, diving between the outside of her left breast and her arm. My mom groaned as my fingers slid down over the smooth outside of her tit, and then I cupped my fingers underneath the heavy sac, and began to lift it. I let go of her fingers with my other hand, and then I moved it to the neckline of her gown. I hooked my forefinger underneath the hem and pulled on it and my mother shivered. I kept pulling up on her tit with my right hand, sliding it up as my left hand pulled the now strainingly-tight gown down over her chest. Her soft titflesh squished and bulged underneath the edge of the gown obscenely, and my cock lurched as I watched myself pulling my mother's breast out of her nightgown.
My mother was groaning and moaning at the touch of my fingers on her breast, and her eyes were closed, all her senses trying to focus on the feel of her son's hands on her body, touching parts that they normally shouldn't. Her hands had sunk to rest on the couch beside her.
"I love you mom," I said urgently, and I bent forward and planted a soft kiss on the top of her left breast which bulged out from underneath her gown.
"Oh yes, my boy," she replied passionately, "I love you too."
I continued pulling with my left forefinger on the neckline of the gown, and I pulled it down far enough that I could see the top of her pebbly brown aureole begin to rise nakedly from beneath the thin material. Her nipple, puffy and stiff, pushed up to the hemline, and then as I lifted unrelentingly with with right hand, the hard lump of flesh popped free from under the gown's edge and my mom cried out wordlessly. I tore her gown lower with my finger then, and suddenly her entire left breast was free from the gown, totally exposed to my ravenous eyes, the saggy flesh springing free from the confines of her shift and then hanging down on top of it. I bent down, unable to tear my eyes from the round heaviness of my mother's breast, from the large brown aureole almost three inches across. I kissed her fat tit then, on the top and my mother hissed. I kissed it again, my lips open this time, and I placed my tongue against the smooth flesh of her boob. My mom moaned, and she lifted her left hand and placed it against the back of my head.
"Yes," she urged.
I licked at the skin of her breast, tasting the tang of her flesh, and then I began to move my mouth down the front of her massive tit.
"Ungh, yes," my mom cried as my mouth drew closer to her nipple. "Oh, yes, baby, like that!" Her fingers tightened on the back of my head. My lips slid down over the granular surface of her aureole, and I licked hungrily at it, causing my mother to groan. I pressed my tongue against my mom's boob, my mouth open, my lips resting against her titflesh, and I slowly swirled my tongue down to touch her stiff nipple. As I reached it, I slid my mouth down over her breast until it was centered on my mother's nipple, and then as she gasped and writhed, began to slurp and suckle at the stiff knob of flesh. I placed both my hands on my mom's breast, one on each side, and as I suckled at her tit, I cupped the squishy flesh gently in both hands, holding it in place in front of me, keeping her boob in place as I licked and slurped hungrily. I opened my mouth and tried to draw in as much of my mother's breast as I could, pulling the soft flesh into my mouth until her nipple touched the back of my tongue, and still I sucked at her, almost mewling with the satisfaction that sucking my mother's breast was giving me. My mom was crying out now, writhing from side to side as I licked and sucked at her.
"Oh, baby," my mom said, over and over, as if she was stuck on repeat. "Oh baby, oh baby..."
I moaned against her warm titflesh and my mother shuddered in response. Her hands were on my waist now, and I could feel her pulling and tugging at the hem of my boxers, sliding her fingers underneath, pulling them away from my waist, and then sliding back and forth inside them, her cool fingers reaching lower and lower, sliding over my hips and ass. My cock was pulsing in time with my heartbeat, even more rigid than the night before if that were possible.
"Mom," I groaned into her great teat. "Oh fuck, mom, I can't believe how good your hands feel, mom."
"I know," she replied. "Your touch feels like fire; I just want to suck you up inside me!" Her hands were pushing down now, sliding the waistband of my boxers down over my ass.
I pulled my head back and let her nipple slip from my mouth, watching her saggy tit bounce as it settled back against her. I looked up at my mom and saw only love and passion in her eyes. I reached up and cupped her face in my hands and then drew her lips to mine and gave her a fierce kiss. She kissed me back hungrily, and our tongues touched. As before, as we continued kissing, our mouths opened wider and wider, and we slurped and sucked at each other like wild animals, overcome with the forbidden passion and lust coursing through us.
As we kissed, my mother pushed my boxers all the way down over my butt, and then her hands came around the front and I could feel her gentle motherly touch as she freed my rigid cock from them. The boxers slipped to the floor, and as we grunted and moaned into each other's mouths, my mother's right hand encircled my cock. Her left hand came up and she placed it on my right cheek, and she caressed me with her soft mother's touch even as her other hand began to pump slowly at my engorged rod.
"Oh, fuck, mom," I grunted. "I've never felt anything like this before. I can't even... I don't know... Oh, shit, that feels good!" My mother's right hand was pulling at my cock, sliding up and down the shaft with a teasing touch that shivered through me, leaving me wanting nothing more than to crush her to me and drill into her with my tool.
My mother dropped her hand to my right shoulder then, and she pushed me away from her, ending our sloppy kiss. As I stared at her, she continued to slowly pump my cock in and out of her right hand, the sensation unlike any I had felt before, my mother's touch inflaming me beyond all reason and thought. I reached up with my right hand, using my left on the edge of the couch to keep me upright, and I began to play with her nipple, pulling gently at it, mirroring what she was doing to me. My mother's tongue lolled out of her mouth as I did.
"I've thought about it a lot," my mother said as she pulled repeatedly on my penis. "I know what I want. Do you know what you want?"
"Yes," I said quickly.
"Are you sure?" she asked teasingly.
"Oh yes, mom," I replied.
My mom reached down between us with her left hand and grabbed the hem of her nightgown. She lifted it up, and as she slid it up over herself, she revealed first her calves, then her thighs, and then finally a hint of the mat of dark hair which lay at the juncture of her legs. As I watched disbelievingly, my mother then let go of my cock, and she leaned back and raised her legs from the couch just enough to slide her gown up behind her knees and then up to her waist. I looked on lustfully, thrilling to the sight of my old mother's body slowly being revealed to me. I knew it was wrong somewhere inside me, but the sight of my mother's sagging boob capped by its enormous nipple, her pudgy stomach underneath it, and her fat thighs and legs spreading wider in front of me, opening her pussy to me, was so exciting that I couldn't even think straight. All I knew was that I desired the woman in front of me with a hunger that felt like it could never be satisfied. My cock was as stiff as an axehandle, and with every fiber of my being I wanted nothing more than to be inside her, to be inside my mother's cunt and to feel her surrounding me with her love and passion.
"Is this what you want?" my mother asked as she held the bottom of her nightgown up to her waist. Her legs were open and I could see the salt-and-pepper hair surrounding her sex glistening. She was smiling, but she also looked so vulnerable, and I realized how much this was costing her, her openness to the possibility of my rejection.
"Oh, mom, yes," I breathed, my cock bobbing in front of me. "I have never wanted anything so much in my life." It was true. All the dreams I had chased after - the marriage, the cars, the career, the toys - none of them mattered at this moment. The only thing that I knew was real was my overwhelming desire for this woman - no, for my mother - the passion that I felt at my mother's touch and caress, the lust that filled me for this vital, real woman who loved me as I loved her. I reached out and touched her face softly. "I want you, mom."
"Then," she replied, "come get me." She let her gown fall to her waist and she opened her arms wide. She leaned back slightly and lifted her feet from the floor, bending her knees and drawing up her legs, spreading them wide at the same time so that her entire pussy was exposed to my eyes. Her swollen boob flattened against her as she leaned back a little further, and I moved my hand from her face and hooked it under the neckline of her gown on her right side, and as she held her position, her arms open for me, her ripe, luscious body open to me, I pulled it down over her shoulder, and then down over her other pendulous breast so that both soft tits were visible. She lifted her arms out of the gown and then spread them wide again.
"Is this what you want?" she asked again. "Come to your mother," she urged softly. "Come to your mother, please. But only if you are sure this is what you want." Her face mirrored both her lust and her uncertainty, and I could hold back no longer.
"Oh, mom, I want you so much, I can't stand it!" I cried. I shuffled forward, leading the way with my my stiff prick, looking down at her sex as I did, guiding the tip of my penis toward my mother's hairy pussy. I put my right arm underneath her lifted left leg as I did, then did the same on the other side so that both her legs were held up in place, her knees on my upper arms.
"Oh god," my mom moaned as I slid closer. My hands reached forward and they grazed over her squishy titflesh, then went to her sides, my fingers barely touching her back.
"Oh, baby," she whimpered. "I want you, baby. I want you inside me." Her arms went around my neck, and her hands rested on my shoulders.
I paused there, the enormity of what was going to happen tolling through my mind. The tip of my cock was leaking precum, and it rested against the mat of pubic hair that surrounded my mother's slit. I could feel her wetness, and I could smell our arousal. I looked at her, my old mother, bent up in front of me in a lover's position, her entire soft, aging body exposed to my eyes. Her veiny boobs sagged low on her chest, but the nipples were stiff and hard. Her body was soft and welcoming, and the thought that I was about to shove my cock into my own mother was both terribly exciting and yet somewhat embarrassing. I paused there, my hands on her sides, my cock poised to plunge into her slick hole, and our eyes met. We looked at each other, and then my mom opened her mouth. I thought she was going to say something like, "Are you really really sure?" but she surprised me.
"Don't tease me," she said huskily. "Put that cock inside of your mother, baby, and fuck me with it."
I groaned with delight as I followed her command. I pushed forward and my mom cried out sharply as the mushroomy tip prodded at her slick lips, moving into her slowly but irresistably. Even though she was wet with excitement, it was still a tight fit, and both of us hissed at the slight stickingess as her lips turned inward, moving with the head of my cock, until it went a little deeper and they slipped back, opening her up a little more for me. I could feel her heat and tightness around my shaft, and it was so right. No matter what my subconscious was screaming about this being my own mother and the shame and guilt of it all, in that moment it was all sublimated into the feeling of being inside someone who truly fit me.
"Oh god, baby," my mom husked as I continued to push my cock slowly inside her. Her vaginal walls gripped my shaft like a buttery glove, and I bucked her legs up a little and continued to stuff my prick inside my mother's pussy at a deliciously slow pace. "Oh, fuck," she cried. "How can you feel this amazing? This isn't supposed to happen!"
"I don't know," I answered, and my fingers spread over her back as I pulled her toward me, which drove my throbbing pole even deeper inside my mother's moist vagina. There was only an inch or two left to go, and already I could barely imagine anything more pleasurable than my old mother's fat twat surrounding my cock. I pulled her toward me again, and her hands tightened on my shoulders. "But I've never felt anything like this. You feel so good, mom. Your pussy feels so good on my cock."
"Oh honey," moaned my mom. "You feel as if you were made for me. I want you inside me forever, baby, fucking me forever." She pulled on my shoulders and humped her fat bottom toward me, driving my cock even more deeply inside her steaming hole. "Oh son, this is incredible!"
I leaned into her, locking eyes with her, and as I tried to tell her how much I loved her without words, I slid my hands down until they were behind her waist, and then with one quick pull, I was buried all the way inside my mother's cunt. Her pussy clasped me tightly, hot and moist, and her breasts were squished up against my bare chest. The sheer eroticism of the moment filled my mind - the son, naked, hungry, with his throbbing member buried deeply inside his own mother's willing flesh, her body spread open for his pleasure, her motherly caring turned into incestuous lust.
"Oh, mom," I moaned.
"Yes," she replied, and then in that moment, I pushed my mouth down on top of hers and as my mother opened her mouth to my probing tongue, her pussy opened itself to my thrusting dick, and I began to saw it in and out of her dripping cunt. Even as our tongues danced together and we moaned wordlessly into each other's mouths, our lower bodies began to slam together, my mother humping her fat bottom up from the couch to strongly meet each one of my thrusts, our groins slamming together as her pussy repeatedly engulfed my prick, her lips sliding up and down against my stiff rod with each stroke, our pubic hair grinding together each time I sank my length inside my mother's juicy hole.
Her soft tits were bouncing against me as I pummelled my tool into her twat, spearing my penis over and over into my mother's receptive body, and our kiss broke off as we began to really go at it.
"Oh son," she cried loudly. "Oh please. Oh please. Don't stop baby, don't stop." She was babbling as I slammed my cock into her again and again, revelling in the feeling of burying myself in my own mother's cunt, thrilling at the feel of her body slamming against me, tossing shame and guilt to the wind and feeling nothing but the rightness of my mother's love, the rightness of her ripe body, my fingers splayed wide against her soft, squishy back, her fat tummy slamming against mine every time our sexes met. She was grunting now, instead of talking. "Ungh, ungh, oh, god, ungh."
I couldn't speak. My entire being was focused on this moment, and it took all of my concentration not to just let loose and cum. My mother's body was writhing against me, and she was desperately humping her cunt up at me, grinding her fat pussy against me, crying out, "Yes, baby, Yes, baby, oh, come for me! Come for mommy!" She began to shudder against me, her hands clawing at my shoulders as she pressed herself to me, grinding her sex against mine, her pussy muscles grasping and sucking at my throbbing cock. "Come inside me," she cried out, "Come inside mommy!" Those words, or maybe just the thought of her own son blowing his load inside her, sent her over the edge and she shrieked and shuddered and clung to me as her orgasm took hold of her. "Oh, baby!" she cried, and seeing my mother in such pleasure sent me over the top myself, and I let myself go, my toes curling and leg shaking as my cock blasted jet after jet of hot cum into my mother's pussy, filling my mother up with my seed. My body was straining against my mother's, our naked flash pressed sweatily together as we both shook with the force of our pleasure, and as my orgasm began to recede, I pulled my mother hard to me, lifting her plump body up, crushing her breasts to my chest, and I planted an open-mouth kiss on her lips. She kissed me back hard, her hands coming up to hold my face, and as the last few spurts of my cum seeped from my prick into my mother's steaming hole, we kissed over and over again, murmuring words of love to each other.
"You're sleeping with me tonight, mom," I finally said minutes later as we still clung to each other, still thrilling to the deliciously nasty feel of my cock inside her and our naked bodies pressed tightly together.
"Yes, baby," said Mom. "That sounds wonderful."
And it was.