Down Memory Lane with Mom
byalwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 years or older.

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"What's up, Mom?"

By the way her head jerked up in surprise at the sound of my voice she hadn't heard me come up the stairs but the more intriguing response was the way her hand quickly brushed over the pile of pictures strewn around her on the bed, pulling some underneath her arm.

"Scott! You scared the hell out of me," she cried, pulling a pillow over the pictures she had just swept to her side.

"Nothing," Mom added as I approached her bed. "Just looking at some old pictures."

Her blushing face made me even more curious about the pictures she was hiding.

"Yeah?"

My expression subtly requested more information. Mom was wearing a soft plaid shirt over a loose white t-shirt tucked into faded and threadbare blue jeans and that prodded me to verbalize my curiosity.

"Looking at pictures of your old school friend, what's her name — Jena?"

"She wasn't a school friend. We met each other at the commune."

"Oh, yeah, in Hippieville," I teased, reaching across Mom's legs toward the pillow hiding the pictures.

Mom leaned back, dropping her elbow to block my outstretched fingers.

"You don't need to see your mother in the 'olden' days," she laughed.

"Come on, Mom. Why are you so weird about your old pictures? Afraid to let your son see you stoned?"

"No. It's just that it was a different world. You kids just laugh at it because you don't understand what times were like then."

Mom stretched flat on the bed, her hand bending around to grasp my wrist. As she looked down to make sure no embarrassing pictures had come loose, my eyes strayed to the t-shirt exposed by the widening lapels of her shirt. Mom's breasts, unencumbered by the usual bra, pressed against the thin white material, especially where the left nipple threatened to poke through.

I had never seen Mom braless and was captivated by her usually unnoticeable tits. They sagged lower on her chest than they did when encapsulated within their normal prison but were all the more exciting for it, two bulging globes of surprising firmness straining to be free. I moved my hand in a circle on the bed in a fake attempt to grab some photos but I was really just trying to prolong the opportunity to examine Mom's assets unobserved.

"Hey," Mom cried, trying to still my hand and twisting her hip into the bed to cover the pictures.

Her breasts slumped sideways toward the mattress as she twisted away from me, displaying their full round bottoms and dragging her nipples in noticeable arc across the t-shirt. I sat down on the edge of the bed and Mom twisted all the way onto her side, dragging my forearm under her hip. She pushed back as she hunched over, pressing her bottom against my hip. I flexed my fingers as if grasping for pictures and Mom yanked my wrist up toward her into the bottom of her breasts.

"Ok, ok. I won't," I pleaded.

"Let go then. Open your hand."

"Just show me one picture of you and your friends."

"No."

"Of your friends, then." I let my hand open and close, rubbing between the bottoms of her breasts.

"Alright, but just one."

"Ok."

"Get off the bed first."

"Do you promise?" I sought assurance, flexing my fingers again.

"Yes."

"Ok." Mom let go and I stood, pulling my hand away.

Mom searched around for a minute, looking at several pictures covertly, then turned with one in her hand. She held up a photo of an attractive girl in her early twenties wearing a long, hippyish (granny?) dress, with her long, dark brown hair tied into a single braid. She clearly wasn't wearing a bra and, although there wasn't much skin showing, the picture made me want to be there, in that time, with that young woman rather than in the late nineties. She exuded a quiet, earthy sexuality that made me want to impregnate her.

"Nice, wasn't she?" Mom teased, the tinkle in her voice obviously amused by my sudden rapture.

I couldn't respond, my attention was riveted on the picture, at the bulge of her full breasts above a disproportionately narrow waist. Were those pinpoints her nipples? Mom's tinkle turned into a full-throated laugh.

"All the guys reacted like that to Jena but she she couldn't have cared less. She liked hanging out with the girls more."

"Was she a lesbian?" I asked, not quite able to believe this perfect receptacle would shun the attentions of those so eager to fill her needs.

"No," Mom laughed. "But we did wonder sometimes. All the guys wanted to hook up with her but she wouldn't do anything unless it was in a group."

I looked at my mother. "You were in orgies?"

Mom grabbed the picture out of my hand. "None of your business," she snapped good naturedly. "and quit trying to twist my words. Away you go now." She shooed me away with her hand.

"You can tell me, Mom. I'm almost twenty-one," I pleaded.

"It's still none of your business. Anyway, Jena was the wild one."

"Awww, Mom. You can tell me." Somehow, I didn't believe her denial.

"No way. Now away you go. I have to put these away and change before your father gets home. He hated hippies."

"You knew Dad when you were in the commune?" That really did stretch the imagination. I pictured him surrounded by hippies, calculator on his belt.

"No. I met him after. Now go away."

I let Mom push me toward the door and made a huge effort not to turn around. I didn't want to make her suspicious so she wouldn't hide the pictures too well. I wanted to have my own look at what she was hiding.

- - - - - - - - - -

I rushed home from work early the next day to look for the pictures. They weren't that easy to find but I eventually succeeded. There were more of Jena, almost always in long dresses. She still looked awesome but there were several of Mom that caught my eye even more. Her hair was longer and blonder than its current light brown broken by a few wisps of grey, but that wasn't what caught my attention.

Unlike Jena, Mom seemed to favor dresses that rode high above her knees, displaying a gorgeous set of legs. Not that her legs were bad now, they were just more lean and angular, not as soft and feminine as in the pictures.

Mom's other preferred mode of dress seemed to be the tattered jeans and t-shirts she sometimes donned to knock around the house when Dad wasn't home. In the pictures, her breasts always seemed to be unencumbered. What surprised me was the way they hung down and jutted out in about the same position as they had the day before. Mom's legs may have aged but, surprisingly, her breasts seemed to be the about same.

My cock stirred as I stared at the t-shirt pictures. A strange feeling spread through my stomach and chest and my fingers trembled as my eyes bored into the photos. In my mind, I imagined her breasts jostling below her youthful smile as she walked, hair dancing over her chest but unable to conceal the wayward life within.

One picture was particularly intriguing. Mom was lying on the ground, arms raised to adjust a flower in her hair, pulling her t-shirt up to expose her belly and a sprinkle of tiny blonde hairs glinting in the bright sunlight. The gentle pout of her tummy gradually descended into her jeans which, although tight around her hips, were loose enough around her narrow waist to leave a substantial gap. Unlike the jeans girls wore today which dipped low in front, Mom's rode high on the waist and were so loose there it seemed you could put a hand inside without touching skin or jeans.

I stiffened into full hardness on that thought, my fingers tingling from the imaginary sensation of sliding my hand past Mom's pouting belly and down the front of her silky panties. I groaned and covered my crotch with my free hand, palm fitting over my stiff cock and fingers wrapping under my tightening balls.

The sound of the front door jerked me out of my reverie. I scrambled to put the pictures back into the drawer where I'd found them. I pushed the drawer closed but it didn't go all the way. I hesitated, then realized I didn't have time to shove it home; Mom's footsteps were already climbing the stairs. I had to get out, now!

I rushed to Mom's bedroom door and just managed to bolt down the hall and disappear into my room before Mom reached the middle landing and turned to climb the final four steps to the hallway. She walked into her room, humming some old seventies song. I stood near my open door, listening intently for any sign that Mom had discovered my intrusion or my presence upstairs but all I heard was the sound of whispering cloth. Mom was getting undressed. Hadn't she seen my Jeep parked in front of the neighbor's house?

My cock, which had shriveled in fear when I heard Mom close the door, now reasserted itself. I imagined Mom's skirt falling to the floor, exposing a tiny set of panties I knew she would never wear, and watching the flex of her shoulders as her blouse was unbuttoned. Jesus. I felt like slapping myself. What a sick fuck, getting hard imagining my own mother undressing.

But I didn't slap myself. Instead, I stepped stealthily into the hall. Slowly, trying desperately to control my ragged breathing, I stole toward her room. The door was open and I knew that the mirror on the dresser against the far wall would afford me a view back toward the bathroom ensuite where Mom would almost assuredly be removing her clothes and dropping them onto the bed. I pressed close to the wall and inched my way forward until I could lean out and peek into Mom's room.

I sucked in my breath. There, through the mirror, stood Mom with her back to me. She had removed her blouse, unzipped the top of her skirt, and her arms were now reaching up to the back of her bra. As I watched, her hands parted, pulling the bra around the front and sliding the straps down her arms. Mom turned and threw the bra onto the bed, her breasts jutting out in magnificent profile, slinging down and out, nipples riding high on the upper crests of her jiggling tits. There were more awesome than my imagination had allowed.

Mom stepped toward the bed letting her skirt fall as she moved and stooping as she stepped out of it before laying it on the bed beside her blouse. She turned away, took two steps toward the open bathroom door, then paused. Pushing her panties down her legs, Mom bent to pull them off her feet and flung them over her head in the general direction of the bed. As she walked into the bathroom, her bare cheeks tick-tocked up and down, sagging slightly like her tits though her youthful pictures had displayed a very tight little derriere. My cock surged as I imagined it prying apart those saucy globes. I groaned aloud but thankfully Mom had disappeared through the door. The shower started.

Quickly, I made my way to the main bathroom across the hall from my room. My cock was out of my jeans and I was already pumping it by the time I entered. I barely managed four tugs before spraying all over the toilet. Mom's shower was still running by the time I cleaned up and flushed my mess away. I slipped out of the house and hung around down the street at the park until I knew Dad would be home. I couldn't stay with Mom alone, afraid my guilt was written all over my face.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dinner was uneventful. I helped Mom clean up the kitchen while Dad watched the news, as usual. I was still a little uncomfortable even though Mom had given no sign that she was aware of me being home while she had undressed in her room, with the door open. We watched TV for another hour and then Dad, as regular as clockwork, brewed a pot of green Japanese twig tea and wandered upstairs to his study, the room at the far end of the hall that had been converted from a bedroom after no more children arrived after me. He would return an hour later for a refill before disappearing upstairs for the night. This had been his ritual ever since I could remember. No wonder Mom sometimes spent hours looking through old pictures, dreaming of her glory days.

As soon as Dad disappeared, Mom spoke, her words making me immediately nervous.

"Scott, were you home earlier today?"

I looked up, trying not to look guilty as I held Mom's gaze.

"Uh, yeah. I got off work early and got changed before going out."

"Were you looking for my pictures?"

"No." I could see in her face she knew I was lying. I could always fool my Dad but Mom was a different story.

"Scott."

"Yeah," I admitted, looking down. "I just wanted to see what you used to look like." Hoping to throw her off the real reason for my guilty demeanor, I added, "And that girl that was your best friend, Jena."

"Is that all? Just pictures of me and Jena?"

Mom's apparent worry puzzled me. Were there more interesting pictures to see? Nude ones? Maybe even an orgy?

"Yeah. You looked pretty awesome back then, Mom."

Mom's face softened in relief and she smiled.

"Back then, in the olden days?" she chuckled.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I think I do."

Her smile broadened and I blushed.

"Will you promise not to look at my pictures if I let you see some?"

"Sure. But only if you don't hide all the good ones, the ones that show what it was really like to live back then."

Mom laughed. "Alright, I'll get some that will show you what it was like. You stay put. Don't come upstairs."

I called out to Mom's retreating back, "And tell me some stories about what it was like, too."

Mom didn't answer. She returned fifteen minutes later with a box of pictures and a blanket draped over her arm. She had changed into her tattered old jeans and a white t-shirt, her normal picture browsing garb. She sat down on the floor in front of the couch at the far end and pushed the box under the end table. Stacking a couple of cushions behind her, she leaned back against the couch and motioned for me to sit next to her. As I did, she used the remote to select one of the movie channels, then spread the blanket over her legs instead of using it to spread the pictures on as I expected. The blanket was folded back double down to her knees.

"When Dad comes downstairs, just tell him we're watching a movie. He doesn't like me looking at these old pictures."

I nodded my agreement, realizing the folded back blanket could be quickly pulled up to cover the t-shirt and jeans, the hippy-ware that Dad hated so much.

Mom reached around to grab a handful of pictures. I wasn't disappointed. It was summer and there were young guys and girls everywhere, frolicking around the edge of a small lake, mostly wearing shorts and t-shirts, or jeans and dresses. Soon, there were pictures of girls soaked from splashing around in the lake, then some without tops, followed by most of the girls going topless. Full nudity began to appear.

Mom matter-of-factly named the people in each picture, holding some for quite a while as she struggled to remember their names, several times giving up with a shrug and going on to the next picture. She talked about life on the commune as she flipped the photos, honoring her commitment to me.

Some pictures she passed over quickly, especially the ones she was in, but not always. I grabbed her arm to get a better look. Strangely, she allowed that with most of the ones she was in but not some others. I couldn't see why but didn't really care because Mom was letting me look at pictures of her old friends, including herself, in partial states of undress. There was even one, which she passed by quickly, in which she and Jena were completely naked lying on the grass. Awesome.

But mostly, Mom didn't rush. I got her to go through that bunch again and this time she didn't scoot by the pic of her and Jena. I pretended to be scrutinizing her friend but Mom must have known I was taking a pretty hard look at her youthful charms too. I was surprised by her latitude.

"Not too shabby, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. She was pretty good looking," I stammered.

"I meant your mother. I can see you weren't completely ignoring me, or rather, the girl that I was."

"Yeah, Mom. Not too shabby at all," I replied, using her terminology.

"Uh, those were the days," Mom sighed. She held the picture closer and examined herself critically.

I grasped the edge of the picture and leaned in to look more closely myself, managing to brush the side of Mom's right breast with my wrist as I did. She didn't seem to notice, so I scraped my hand across her fleshy bulge several more times. It was thrilling to contact her breast which I knew was bare under the t-shirt.

"You haven't changed a bit," I laughed, making a joke of it.

"Yeah right," Mom elbowed my hand away.

Taking a last glance, she shuffled the picture under the pack and exposed the next one. It was a picture of her sitting between Jena and another girl. All of them were topless.

"Trish," Mom spoke her name quietly.

I grasped the edge of that picture too. Mom half-heartedly pushed me away but she was intent on the picture and didn't stop my hand from following when she pulled the picture back to her center. The edge of my pinky scraped over the top of her right breast. When my finger nudged her nipple, I froze, afraid she'd notice but reluctant to move away. When Mom looked about to move on, I asked about the new girl, managing several questions to prolong my stealthy caress. Finally, she shuffled that picture under the pack too.

"You haven't changed much, Mom," I said, honestly.

"That doesn't say much for me in my prime."

"You were the best looking girl there."

"Bullshit," Mom countered. "You saw the big boobs on Jena and Trish."

I was about to remark on the redeeming feature's of Mom's own, smaller assets but decided that silence would be prudent. Several more times I grabbed Mom's wrist to hold a picture longer and managing to brush my fingers against Mom's right breast on a few.

When Mom heard Dad moving upstairs, she quickly shoved the pictures out of sight under the end table and pulled the blanket up so it covered her completely from her feet to her shoulders. I got up and flopped back on the couch just before Dad came down, mug in hand, heading directly for the kitchen. A moment later he joined us, standing to one side and looking at the TV while he waited for the kettle to boil.

"Ghandi," he said, remarking on the movie we were supposedly watching.

I confess, that was the first time I noticed what was on. I nodded but kept my eyes on the TV, pretending to be absorbed by the movie. A few minutes later the kettle boiled and Dad disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with a full mug, the string from the teabab hanging over the rim. He paused before heading up the stairs.

"Are you going to watch the whole movie?" he asked Mom.

"Prabably," she replied, then added, "but I might not make it to the end."

"Try not to wake me if you come up late," Dad said. He climbed the stairs slowly, trying not to spill the mug he had filled too full.

As soon as Dad turned at the landing, I pushed off the couch and sat beside Mom again.

"I should really get to bed," Mom said.

"No, let's look at more pictures. It's really interesting seeing what it was like."

"Yeah right," Mom responded. "You just want to look at all those girls with their tits hanging out."

I was shocked by Mom's reference and the fact she had pretty much nailed it on the head, except for the biggest part, that is, looking at pictures of her and touching the side of her breast. I couldn't have imagined Mom speaking like this before, but then, it was pretty far-fetched that she would be sitting next to me looking through pictures like this of herself and her friends. Did wearing her old 'outfit' somehow bring back the sense of freedom she experienced back then? Is that why she wore those clothes when she looked through her old pictures?

Mom relented. "Alright, for a little while longer, as long as you behave yourself."


A spike of fear struck my solar plexus but then I realized she couldn't be referring to my illicit brushes. If she had noticed them, she would have done something about it. She must have meant I shouldn't ogle the pictures so much.

As Mom was twisted around to get more pictures, I casually pulled the blanket so it fell into her lap, exposing her t-shirt and the charms underneath. Mom paid no mind and when she turned back, I was pleased to see that her breasts seemed to have swelled from the warmth of the blanket.

After a few more pictures, Mom grabbed my arm and swung it over her shoulder and snuggled closer to me. Soon, we had pictures strewn all around, secure in the knowledge that Dad wouldn't be coming downstairs again. One or the other of us would pick up a picture and both of us would hold it, our fingers pinching each side. This allowed me to brush Mom's breast regularly. I took to finding pictures lying on the floor on the far side of Mom where I had to lean across to get them, allowing a full, inadvertent forearm brush across her chest. My mouth was dry with fear the first time I did it, thinking it was pretty obvious but nevertheless proceeding, but when Mom didn't respond, I became quite cavalier.

Eventually, we stopped looking a pictures, or I should say, Mom did, and started watching the movie which was now more than halfway through. Mom slipped down on her pillows and turned toward me. With my arm on her shoulder, I pulled her closer and she cuddled into my side. After a while, I looked down and she seemed to be asleep, she wasn't watching the movie at all. I pulled her even closer and she twisted onto her side and hugged herself to my body, her loose breasts splaying apart, one on my chest and the other pressing into my side. We stayed like that until the end of the movie. I didn't try to touch Mom's breasts as I had no 'excuse' for such a touch. When the credits started to roll, Mom opened her eyes.

"Oh, gosh. I must have fallen asleep."

"Yup," I confirmed. "You were out for a while."

Mom got up onto her knees and then, facing me, she arched her back and stretched her arms high, pulling her t-shirt out of her jeans and exposing her tummy. There was definitely a large gap between her skin and the jeans. She held her pose in a long, yawning stretch, face turned up to the ceiling, inadvertently letting me examine her breasts at my leisure. I didn't quite manage to look away when she finally slumped forward, breasts bunching in front of my eyes, but Mom didn't see where I was looking, or at least pretended not to in order to avoid an embarrassing moment.

"I guess we better put these pictures away so Dad doesn't see them."

Mom began gathering the pictures up. I did too but was more interested in movement under her t-shirt.

"Why does Dad get so upset about these pictures, Mom?"

"He just does," Mom replied. She stopped and looked at me with furrowing brows. "You won't say anything to him will you?"

"No."

"Make sure you don't."

"I won't."

"Good boy."

Mom swung her knee over to straddle my legs and leaned down to kiss the top of my head, her breasts bumping against the front of my face. She probably didn't notice but I sure did.

"You really like looking at the pictures, don't you Mom?"

"Yes," she answered, picking up the last few photos. "They remind me of those times and that relaxes me, but it makes me sad too."

"You weren't sad tonight."

Mom paused and looked at me. "You're right. I think that was because I had someone to share them with."

"Why don't we look at them again tomorrow night," I suggested.

"Are you sure?" Mom asked, obviously pleased.

"Yeah. I like looking at them too."

"Ok, you're on."

- - - - - - - - -

I only worked a half shift the next day and it was one of Mom's days off; she only worked three days a week. When I came home, she was in the kitchen, making bread, wearing her t-shirt and jeans. I sat at one end of the kitchen table. A few minutes later, Mom put a large wooden pallet on the table and asked me to move. I complained.

"Come on, Scott. You're in the way. I need to knead the dough."

"Can't you do it on the counter?"

"No, it's too high and hard on my back."

"Well, do it here then. I don't mind."

"Alright, smarty pants."

Mom positioned the pallet close to me, plopped down a huge mass of dough, and began kneading, clearly trying to make me sufficiently uncomfortable to move. But I wasn't bugged. I watched her, or should I say, I watched my favorite new toys jostle about as Mom worked the dough. After a while, Mom realized I wasn't going to move and slowed to a steadier, less hurried pace. We started chatting about our respective days and then about her life on the commune. My steady observation of her now more gently moving breasts continued, unacknowledged. It was just part of the scene.

During one pause in the conversation, after Mom got another pile of dough, I said, "You're getting your t-shirt in the dough."

I reached under Mom's tummy and pushed the lower edge of her t-shirt up, pinching it in my fingers and keeping it off the dough. It was an outrageous thing to do but Mom just kept kneading the dough and we began talking again as if it was a perfectly natural, helpful thing for me to do. As Mom progressed, I gathered more and more of her t-shirt in my fist until it was held tight against her breasts, restricting their movement but emphasizing their outline. My hand was now moving back and forth with the movement of Mom's torso, and constantly bumping against the bottom of her breasts.

It was a marvelous experience. My hand kept bumping against the bottom swell of one or the other breast, but usually both, slipping a little between, while Mom and I kept talking as if nothing was amiss. I was a little sad when Mom finished that last pile of dough but was too excited to stay down for more than a moment. I followed Mom over to the counter, hardly conscious of the hardness in my jeans, and curled my arms around Mom's shoulders to hug her from behind. I was careful, however, to keep my hips back to avoid contact with Mom's behind.

"Are we going to look at pictures again tonight."

"If you like."

"I like." I let my arms fall a bit until they were lightly resting across the top of Mom's breasts.

"But make sure you don't mention it in front of your father."

"I promise I won't." I squeezed, pressing down on Mom's breasts, then let her go.

That night started just like the previous evening. Mom followed Dad upstairs and returned dressed in t-shirt and old jeans, a blanket draped over her arm. I had already stacked pillows against the front of the couch, some for her and a couple for me. Mom smiled and sat down beside me, wiggling about until she was comfortably settled in the pillows.

"You're going to get bored," she said, pulling the box of pictures out. "You're seen most of these."

"I won't get bored," I replied. "I have an idea. I'll pick a picture, and you'll tell me a story about it. Then it will all be new."

Mom's eyes danced. "That's a great idea. That's so cool."

"Keep the box hidden, in case Dad comes down," I suggested, bringing us closer in our mutual conspiracy. We both knew that, barring an emergency, that would never happen.

I switched the TV to a movie channel and then stretched across Mom and around the end of the couch to pick a picture out of the box. My arm pressed Mom's breasts tight against her chest as I rummaged around.

"Scott," Mom admonished me.

"Got one," I responded innocently, holding it in front for Mom to see.

Mom thought for a moment, then recounted a little escapade that went along with the picture. She seemed thrilled with this new game and was eager for me to pick another one. After that, I hid the picture, flipping it up at the last minute for her to see, saying she only had a few seconds to look at it before recounting a story. Mom liked that idea and I liked the idea of hiding the picture, which I did by pressing it down against the front of her shirt.

Three pictures later I made Mom close her eyes while she remembered and related each story. Not long after that I stopped just pressing the pictures into Mom's chest just below her neck and began resting it on the top of one of her boobs. And finally, I started holding the picture that way but held between thumb and index finger so when I pressed it to her breast, my palm hung below, lightly cupping her breast. Mom seemed unaware of this during the recounting of each tale and I, in my reverie, hardly heard a word she said, almost my entire brain focused on the tactile sensations emanating from my palm. I was sure Mom's breasts felt tighter, more firm, and was convinced her nipples were more prominent under the thin cotton of the t-shirt.

We were both startled at the sound of Dad's door opening upstairs. Mom flung the blanket over herself to hide her t-shirt and jeans and I, almost too late, managed to slide the picture I was holding, which I dropped in panic, under the couch. As usual, Dad walked straight into the kitchen, on a mission, without glancing our way.

"What are you watching tonight?" Dad asked, after exiting the kitchen to wait for the kettle to boil.

Mom looked confused.

"Bridge on the River Kwai," I answered.

Dad looked at Mom in surprise. "You're watching a war movie?" He seemed astonished.

"We're bonding," I replied for her. "Tomorrow I have to watch a chick flick."

"Ah, yes. The perpetual give and take," Dad murmured.

He stood watching for a few minutes, then went in to make his tea when the kettle boiled. As soon as he disappeared, Mom grasped my hand under the blanket and squeezed, pulling it up onto her stomach, below her breasts. She looked at me and mouthed, 'Thank you.'

Suddenly she let go as Dad appeared through the doorway. My hand dropped a couple of inches onto Mom's stomach and slid down a little more before I checked its movement as Dad turned into the living room instead of going upstairs. He stood beside me watching the movie. The hair on my arms whan I realized that my hand had slid under the waistband of Mom's jeans and was now resting on her bare tummy. I dared not move in case I drew Dad's attention. Mom, rigid beside me, must have been experiencing a similar tension.

"I haven't seen this for years," Dad said, slowly settling on the couch beside me.

Oh, no. I held my hand as still as I could. Glancing down, I could see its vague form under the blanket. I moved it slightly lower to diminish its profile but that stretched it out further and I felt the tips of my fingers come into contact with the elastic edge of Mom's panties. My eyes strained sideways seeking Mom's reaction but she was still as stone.

Well, not quite, I could feel the rise and fall of her tummy as she breathed, and it seemed her breathing, restrained as it was, was no more normal than my own.

"I really like this part," Dad said.

I lowered my arm to further flatten my hand, stretching it deeper into Mom's jeans, past the waistband and onto the edge of a puffy rise.

"Yeah, this is really good," Dad whispered.

Mom wiggled, moving her shoulders higher against the back of the couch, trying to pinch the blanket that was threatening to fall down and possibly expose her taboo outfit. My fingers took advantage of this distraction, sliding deeper onto the puffy rise. I was cupping Mom's mound!

Mom sucked in her breath. Though she was very tense, I could not detect any reaction on her part to indicate she thought this unfortunate turn of events was due to anything but her own movement to secure the blanket.

Foolishly putting this hypothesis to the test, I pressed my finger down with the slightest pressure, hoping it wouldn't be detected as a deliberate move. I eased the pressure, then reapplied, released and reapplied, then again, and again, all super slowly, as if the pulsing pressure was the result of Mom's own breathing. Indeed, her short, shallow breaths did produce a palpitating movment in her tummy, a faint pulse that was barely there, to be sure. Certainly not voluntary, but it was there nonetheless.

I almost gurgled in excitement and continued applying minute presses, faint but regular, and thrilled to the equally timid responses. I dared to nudge my longest finger to the side, slipping into a shallow, dampish groove. A harder press registered an equal reaction. I wiggled my finger ever so slightly on each subsequent press and, though this could hardly be conceived as natural, received a satisfyingly firmer upward press. Our presses and releases became constant and consistent and I almost forgot about my father until he suddenly stood up.

"Well, can't sit around watching TV all night. Some of us have work to do. Good night," he said, striding toward the stairs.

"Good night," I croaked.

Mom didn't reply. I turned tentatively toward her, afraid to meet her eyes. To my relief, they were closed tight. I pressed my finger down firmly. No reaction except for equally firm resistance. Again, I pressed down, and again, adding a little more wiggle. A stronger response. Down, and wiggle. Firmer push back.

Press, press, press. Push, push, push. Wiggle, dig, dig, wiggle, dig. Mom was breathing rapidly now and I was breathing harshly too. I pushed my hand deeper into Mom's crotch, cupping her firmly. There was no pretense now. I dug my finger rapidly in and out of that damp groove, dragging it in long rubs up and down. Mom was quivering under my touch and pushing up hard. She was gasping as loud as I. Suddenly, she tensed and pushed hard against my finger and I pressed it firmly down, keeping it hard against her straining mound. I turned toward her and started coming in my jeans as Mom vibrated against my hand, her damp panties partly folding over my insolent finger. Seconds later, she relaxed, collapsing into the pillows and I slumped against her. We lay like that for a minute or so before Mom moved to get up and I pulled away to make room.

"I think that's enough pictures for tonight," she said as she got up, avoiding my eyes.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm kind of tired too."

Mom picked up the box of pictures while I turned off the TV. We walked upstairs together, not talking, and not looking at each other. Mom went into her room and I walked past Dad's study, noting that the light still on under the door, and on to my room. I struggled to get to sleep, trying to understand what had just happened, worrying about what the next day would bring. I resolved to apologize to Mom as soon as I could.

- - - - - - - - - -

I couldn't get Mom alone the next day to say I was sorry. We all worked and she left with Dad. I tried to get off early to get home sooner but couldn't. Right after supper, Mom disappeared upstairs. I cleaned up the kitchen myself and then went upstairs to see her. Her bedroom door was closed. I was about to knock but chickened out. Instead, I went to my room and changed into an old t-shirt and some sweat pants, the closest get up I could think of to a hippyish outfit. I approached Mom's room. The door was open but she wasn't in her room. I proceeded downstairs and ran into Dad coming up the stairs. It was early for him to be on his way to his study. He was muttering to himself.

"Have you seen Mom?"

"Downstairs," he grumbled. "Better go watch your chick flick, she's already starting it."

I stepped onto the landing and turned down the main flight of stairs. I could see Mom already stretched out in front of the couch, holding the remote. The living room was lit by a single lamp. Mom turned and smiled as I approached, adjusting the blanket over her legs.

"You looked relaxed," she observed my dress.

"Yeah. It's comfortable."

Her demeanor should have relaxed me but I started freaking out about what I had to say. Should I but say it now and get it over with? I'm so sorry Mom, I didn't mean to, blah, blah blah. I sat down next to her and turned to speak but my mouth was suddenly dry and I felt extremely nervous. I just sat there, looking at Mom as if about to speak, but no words came out.

"Well, are you going to pick a picture?"

"A picture?"

"Yes. A picture. Hellooooo."

"Oh, yeah. A picture." Relief flooded through me. "Yeah." I leaned over and around Mom, searching for the box under the table. I pulled a picture out and showed it to her without even looking at it first.

Mom laughed. "Oh, that one. It figures you'd pick it first."

She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand to her chest, pressing the picture against her shirt and, without delay, began to tell a story about how the three girls had decided to get 'Donny'. I knew right away what the picture was. It was the one with Mom, Jena and that other girl sitting topless. I tried to turn the picture to look but Mom held it and my hand firmly against her shirt.

As Mom talked, I noticed she wasn't wearing the old t-shirt. She was wearing that old plaid shirt that had covered it that first day I found her sifting through the pictures on her bed. Rats. I couldn't see her breasts as well through the looser and thicker material. Oh well. I considered myself lucky, far luckier than I had expected to be this evening.

The story lasted much longer that the other's had and it dawned that this 'Donny' was a person of some importance, at least to the three girls and, judging by Mom's breathy voice, he still was. When she finished, I tried to peek in the box as I rummaged for the next picture, hoping to find one of 'Donny'.

"Hey no looking," Mom put her hand up to block my sight.

I picked a picture and Mom told me another story. A couple more followed. I was tired of this now. I wanted to do more than just brush her breasts and I couldn't see them very well anyway which made things worse because I was pretty sure she was naked under the shirt.

"Let's play a new game," I suggested.

"Like what?" Mom asked.

"I'll say something, or ask you something, about one of the pictures we've seen or the story you told to go with it, and you tell me something more about it. My questions might make you remember things that you've forgotten."

"That's a good idea. Do I get to see the picture first?"

"No. I'll describe one to you and you have to remember which one it was."

"That might be too hard," Mom protested.

"No it won't. It'll be easy. Just lean back and close your eyes. Try to imagine yourself back in the picture."

"What picture?"

"This one. Remember that picture of your friends playing around on the beach?"

"Which one?"

"The one that looked like it had been taken from a grassy hill beside the lake?"

"Oh yeah." Mom nodded.

"Who took the picture?"

"Jena did."

"Who was with her?"

"Just me."

"Why were you two off on your own watching the others?"

Mom's brow furrowed.

"I don't know."

"Just relax and try to picture yourself back there with Jena."

Mom's brow furrowed even more.

"Don't try too hard. Just let the memories come," I suggested.

I twisted toward Mom and, putting an index finger from each hand on her forehead, slowly trailed my fingers tips out to her temples. I repeated this and kept doing it. Gradually, the furrows disappeared and Mom's body visibly relaxed. She began to talk.

It was another long story, full of small memories that attested to the close and strong friendship between Mom and Jena. Though there was tension between them, apparently due to a friendly rivalry over the attentions of Donny, I detected no bitterness. Mom paused every so often and I renewed my gentle stroking. Eventually, feeling uncomfortable twisting around to use both hands on Mom's face, I turned around and straddled her legs, placing my knees on either side of her hips. Mom's eyes flew open.

"Don't sit on me, you big lug."

"I won't. I just can't twist around like that anymore. Close your eyes," I said, reaching out to stroke her face again. 

Mom closed her eyes and a moment later, she began talking again.

It didn't take me long to discover what a bonus I'd stumbled on. With my legs straddling Mom's hips, my crotch was tantalizing close to the bottom of Mom's breasts. I remembered the day when I held Mom's t-shirt while she kneaded the dough, and the softness of her breasts as my hand bumped against them. I rose up on my knees a bit and shifted forward, lowering myself gently until my crotch was stretched across the bottom of the prominent lumps in Mom's shirt. I pushed forward an inch and made contact, watching Mom's face closely for an adverse reaction but, except for a flicker in her speech, Mom didn't react.

I held still, afraid now to do anything that would make her pull away. Fantastic. My cock was pressing against the bottom of Mom's breasts and she continued to reminisce as if nothing was wrong. I felt myself swelling in excitement, causing my balls to press more firmly into Mom's stomach. As my cock unlimbered, it two pressed harder, but against the fullness of Mom's breasts.

As Mom continued her story, I moved my fingers down the sides of her face and began stroking the sides of her neck. Slowly, I extended my massage out to her shoulders, gently prying her shirt apart. My body tingled as I realized that Mom's shirt hadn't been buttoned right up, it had just been lying close together. The lapels parted to display the inner swells of her breasts.

"Mmmmmm, that feels nice," Mom murmured. She stopped speaking and I concentrated on making it feel as nice as I could. After many strokes, I ventured to push the shirt over the edge of Mom's left shoulder. As it fell away, I braced myself for a rebuke, or even just a flash of angry eyes, but all she did was purr softly again.

I pushed my fingers over the edge and traced a delicate line down the outside of Mom's upper arm, drawing an oval around and around, then back up and over her shoulder, dipping my fingertips into the hollow of her neck before proceeding outward again. This time, I pulled the shirt over her right shoulder too. As I tickled both upper arms, I dragged Mom's shirt lower until the lapels were almost cresting the edge of her swollen breasts. In fact, if it wasn't for her nipples, I would have bared Mom's tits.

I stroked and stroked. Mom began talking again but so quietly I couldn't make out the words. I hadn't been listening anyway. I had no idea what she'd been telling me. I pushed my balls forward until they rested between the bottom of Mom's tits. I had been pressing myself in there for awhile before I realized Mom had stopped talking. Her breath was too rapid to speak easily. Perhaps that's why she had stopped. I pushed my hands down to Mom's forearms, pushing the sleeves over her elbows and dragging the shirt over the final crest, baring a pair of stiff nipples.

I wanted to lean down and suck them into my mouth. What was stopping me? I leaned forward.

Then, as if in a echo chamber, the sound of Dad's door opening careened down the stairs.

OMG, I jerked off Mom and spun around to sit facing the TV. Mom was sitting up, frantically pulling the blanket up to cover herself from head to toe. I realized I was looking at a blank TV. Mom hadn't turned it on. In a panic, I tried to start the DVD but only managed to get the TV on by the time Dad rounded the corner in the stairs. He barely nodded on his way into the kitchen with his empty mug. There was time for me to belatedly realize I was sitting with a huge tent in my sweats. I froze in inaction as I heard Dad's footsteps returning to the living room. Mom saved the day, spreading the blanket out to cover my legs as well as hers. I drew up my knees, completing my concealment.

"That doesn't sound like a chick flick," Dad observed as he passed through the doorway.

I looked at the TV. Another war movie.

"That's 'A Bridge Too Far', not a chick flick," Dad said.

"We bet and I lost," Mom explained, sounding somehow very composed.

"Ah. I'm missing out on all the good stuff," Dad said. He sat down on the couch beside me, watching the movie intently. "It's half over," he lamented.

For the next few minutes we sat in silence, watching the movie. Now that my hardon had mostly subsided, I almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was with the remnants of a boner, sitting in front of my father, while my mother sat under a blanket beside me, shirt open and breasts bared, watching an old war movie. I bit down on my lip to contain myself and pinched my thigh, my hand brushing Mom's hip.

Mom's hand suddenly appeared over mine, her fingers curling over and squeezing mine. It was comforting under the cover of the blanket but then suddenly disconcerting when Mom pulled my hand towards her. She continued to tug and I realized I couldn't resist without drawing attention to ourselves, something I dare not do. I relented and allowed my hand to be drawn slowly onto Mom's leg, then up to the waist of her jeans. Thankfully, she stopped and held my hand there, in safe territory.

I glanced at Mom. Her face was tilting forward, chin pinching the blanket against her collar bone. I noticed movement under the blanket over Mom's tummy. She was doing something with her left hand but she stopped when Dad suddenly stood up and walked into the kitchen. His kettle had boiled.

Mom renewed the pressure on my hand, tugging it down, pushing it under her jeans onto her bare tummy. I resisted. I was shocked that she was trying to repeat the near disaster of the previous evening. Clearly, I now realized I had no need to apologize but we had been extremely luck not to get caught and I didn't want to repeat the terror of those moments. Why was Mom pushing it?

Dad returned and I quit struggling. Mom pushed my hand down and it easily slipped onto her panties just as Dad sat down beside me again. Mom's left hand reappeared outside the blanket to hold it up near her neck. I had plenty of room underneath the blanket. Mom had unbuttoned her jeans and pushed the zipper down. I easily positioned my fingers over her mound and let my long finger slip into her already damp groove. Dad slurped his tea behind me.

I held my hand still for some time, then wiggled it briefly and stopped. I knew it was a big tease but Mom deserved it. I was in control now and I wanted her to know. Nevertheless, as time went on, I succumbed and began reacting to her her gentle pressure, responding in kind. When I realized that I was just following the lead of her pulsing pussy, I decided to do something. Two can play this game, I thought. I can be a shock jock too.

I pulled my hand up, dragging my fingers over and away from Mom's damp panties. I could feel the tension in her body, the shock of separation. I waited a good thirty seconds, then pushed forward. I glanced at Mom in time to see a smile forming on her face but it changed to surprise when my fingers slipped under the elastic band of her panties and blazed a trail through her wet muff. I found the top of her groove and plowed through the furrow beyond, then pressed the length of my finger into her slit, parting her wet lips. I smiled smugly as I watched Mom biting her lips in a struggle for control.

Curling my finger, I inserted my fingertip into her hole and dug it inside. She was so wet I thought I heard an audible squish but of course it was only my imagination. I kept my finger plugged inside, wiggling, while I squeezed the others on both sides of her pussy lips. Take that, I thought in gleeful victory. I continued my ministrations until a glance warned me that Mom was in danger of losing control. Quickly, I pulled my finger out and withdrew my hand. This time, Mom made no attempt to stop me. She must have realized herself how close she was to losing it.

"I'd better get another cup," Dad's voice shattered my reverie. He was through the kitchen doorway before I interpreted his words, the shock of his presence was so great. It was as if he had spoken in slow motion but moved at the speed of sound. He returned a moment later with a full mug but only said goodnight as he wheeled away and up the stairs.

I turned to look at Mom. She was slumped against the pillows, eyes closed. I pulled the blanket off her chest and tossed it to the side. Her eyes remained closed as I pushed her shirt completely off her tits which were heaving with her ragged breath. I inserted my right hand under her panties and cupped her mound. Poising my finger at her entrance, I lowered my head toward the closest, stiff nipple and sucked it into my mouth hard as I plunged my finger into her lower mouth.

Mom gasped out loud. I pressed my hard cock against the side of her leg, stretching my leg atop hers. I started humping against her side as I fingered her, periodically switching tits but never stopping the plunging, twisting action of my fingers in her wet puss except to grind my palm down on her swollen lips.

It seemed like a long time but it was probably only a minute or two before Mom stiffened again and thrust herself hard against my fingers, her hand grasping mind and holding it still while she frantically fucked my fingers. I bit her nipple and she shuddered into the peak of her climax just as my seed spilled inside my sweats, soaking them through, the copiousness of my spend wetting the side of Mom's jeans.

Some time later, I raised my head and looked down at my mother. She was so beautiful, her face relaxed and peaceful, yet radiant. Her eyes were still closed. Looking at her, I wondered why I hadn't kissed her. Somehow, it had seemed that would have been a violation of an intimate boundary that I shouldn't cross. Now, given what had just happened, that seemed silly. I lowered my head toward Mom's face and her eyes opened. She looked surprised when she deduced my intention and shook her head, but I took possession of her lips anyway. She didn't resist, letting me kiss her, but was unresponsive. I pulled away. It was an awkward moment.

"I think we should call it a night, don't you?" Mom asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You're a lot like ... him," she mumbled as we stood.

"Who? Donny?"

"Yeah," Mom replied. "He liked to push the limits, always searching for something new."

"You seem to like living on the edge too."

"Yes," Mom responded quietly. "And it used to get me into a lot of trouble."

"Like now?"

"I hope not. This has to stop Scott, before it goes any further."

"Ok, Mom. If that's what you want."

"It's not what I want, it's what has to happen."

"Ok." I knew better than to argue with Mom. She was normally a very soft and yielding person but you couldn't push her ever; it would only stiffen her resolve.

- - - - - - - - - -

So was that it, then?

Not if I could help it. Stubborness aside, I had to push Mom now or it might be forever too late. Her old friend Jena would be here in a few days. I was positive that all of this had come about because Mom had been remembering the wild days of her youth and was inherently dissatisfied with where life had led her. She was a free spirit that had been stifled too long. She hadn't wanted what happened to happen but she got caught up in it and went with the flow. I needed that to happen again.

Mom obviously thrived on the danger of fooling around right under my father's nose, maybe because she thought he was to blame for losing her old life, whether true or not. But I couldn't quite believe that; it was too premeditated, too conniving, and my mother wasn't like that. No, it had been a spontaneous reaction to the unexpected, and the thrill of danger.

I couldn't think of any other situation I could get Mom in that would lead to the same result so I resolved to continue with the pictures and stories thing. I also decided to risk touching her when Dad was near. She might get mad but if she got off on it then the excitement might lead to another episode. I had to hurry. I had to move before Jena arrived in case Mom realized you can't relive the past and moved beyond it all. I needed to push Mom to the edge and see if she went over. I had to risk everything, win or lose.

I worked late the next day and when I got home from work Mom was in the kitchen. Dad was watching the news and I could see that he had already eaten. He looked grumpy and didn't respond when I said hi. I popped my head into the kitchen.

"Anything left to eat?"

"Yes, it's all ready. Sit down and I'll join you."

"You waited?"

"Of course," Mom smiled sweetly. "What mother wouldn't?"

I was surprised to see Mom wearing her tattered jeans and sneakers. The t-shirt and plaid shirt had been replaced by an old sweatshirt that was now too small, failing to reach the waistband of her jeans and leaving a three inch band of bare midriff. She looked very sexy. No wonder Dad had his mustache in a twist.

"Do I have time for a quick shower?"

"Uh huh."

I ran upstairs and showered in record time. In my room, I couldn't find any sweatpants so I pulled on a pair of old pajama bottoms and threw on a sweatshirt to match Mom. On the way downstairs, Dad looked up and grunted when he saw me, then turned back to the news. I sat in the kitchen and ate with Mom. Despite her cheery welcome, she didn't seem inclined to speak.

"Are you worrying about Jena's visit?"

Mom glanced at me and looked away. "Yes."

"Because you've both changed?"

Mom looked into my eyes. "Maybe, but I'm more afraid that we haven't." Her eyes misted. "Oh, we've gotten older," she waved her hand down over her body, "and I'm sure we're both oh-so-mature, on the outside. But inside, I think the spirit is still there, and it will be so good to see that, and so sad to watch it disappear, again."

I put my fork down and reached out to take Mom's hand.

"Maybe it doesn't have to disappear altogether. "Maybe it's just hidden and can come out when the time is right."

Mom pulled her hand away. "No, I don't think it can do that." She stood and started gathering the dishes.

I picked up my fork and finished eating while Mom scraped the plates, rinsed them and stacked the dishwasher. I loved seeing her in these old clothes she was so comfortable in. Why couldn't Dad just ease up? She wasn't hurting anything and so what if someone came over, or if she went out like that? Why couldn't he just give her some room to be happy?

I got up, rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Mom filled put the soap in, closed the door and leaned over to start the cycle. I put my hands on her hips and felt her natural sway. Looking down, I remembered the extra fleshy cheeks with the little sag at the bottom and pressed myself into her. Mom stood up quickly.

"Scott!"

I folded my arms around her in a loose hug.

"I know, I know. I just couldn't help giving you a little hug."

"That wasn't a hug," she whispered harshly. "I told you that had to stop."

"Well, I guess down there thinks there's unfinished business, but up here I know it can't be so."

"That's right. We're finished with that silliness."

"Well, you've finished," I said.

Mom turned around in my arms and looked up into my eyes.

"Is that it? You think you didn't get to have your turn?"

I shrugged but didn't answer.

"You thought you'd rub yourself on my bum? With your father sitting right out there watching TV?"

I didn't answer and I tried to avoid Mom's eyes. I dropped my arms and tried to turn away but she grabbed my chin and turned my face to hers.

"Is that what you want to do? Cop a feel while my husband, your own father, is only fifteen feet away?" she whispered intensely.

I think Mom expected me to look away in shame. I'm sure she didn't expect what I actually did and, to be honest, neither did I. Something about the sudden excitement in her voice triggered me to act. I moved my hands up to her hips and slid them under her sweatshirt, grasping her bare tits firmly, fingers fitting around her meaty globes, then constricting until her nipples were clamped inside the curl of my index fingers. I tightened my fingers until Mom's mouth opened.

"Yes," I hissed. "That's exactly what I want to do, but I won't, because you don't want me to." I dropped my hands and turned away. I went to my room.

About an hour later, there was a knock on my door. It was Dad, mug of tea in his hand.

"Your mother wants you downstairs. Says you owe her a chick flick."

I looked up from my book, "I don't feel like it," I mumbled.

"You'd better go down. She says her friend is coming into town tomorrow and you owe her."

"I don't care."

"Come on, son. You know your mother. If she wants something, she's going to get it."

That was rich, coming from him. I got up. I knew he would pester me until I went downstairs. What the hell, Maybe Mom would let me fool around a bit one last time. Maybe my ploy in the kitchen had worked.

Mom was resting against the pillows. The blanket was bunched up on the floor on the far side of her legs. I took my usual seat beside her. A chick flick was already playing. Shit. Was this for real? Did she really just want me to watch a movie? I leaned over and looked for the box of pictures under the table. It wasn't there. Christ!

Mom patted the floor between us, urging me to sit closer. I shifted over. We watched the movie for about five minutes before Mom arched her back and stretched.

"Oh, I'm so stiff today. And tense. It must be because Jena's coming tomorrow."

"You should have brought the pictures down," I said. "It relaxes you."

"Yeah, but it does a little more than that, too. Doesn't it?"

"I guess," I admitted.

"You know what relaxes me?"

"What?" I asked.

"The way you tickle my face."

"You want me to do that for you?"

"Please." Mom closed her eyes and laid back.

I twisted around and started to stroke her forward. She opened her eyes.

"Come over me." She pulled my arm, urging me to straddle her legs. "You may as well get comfortable because I want you to do it for a long time."

I straddled Mom's legs and started my massage. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. Looking down at her sweatshirt, I remembered the feel of her breasts sagging onto my cock and balls, and the thrill of seeing those sexy tits when I pulled her shirt off her shoulders. I grunted. There was no way that was going to happen with this old sweatshirt.

Oh, well. I started tickling the sides of Mom's face. She sighed in response. A few minutes later I extended my strokes along her neck and the top of her shoulders. There was no way its neck was wide enough to pull it down. I sighed, resigned.

Mom sighed too and wriggled about, shifting herself down into the pillows. I paused for a second when I realized that her breasts were now pushing down onto my pajamas. Mom bumped my hand, urging me to keep tickling. I started again but my attention was focused on the bumps of her breasts nestling on my crotch. As my arms moved, my weight shifted, causing Mom's breasts to jostle about. I reacted, blood flowing into my genitals, swelling both cock and balls. Soon, I was quite hard.

Mom's arms had been lying on the floor beside her hips. She moved them up to rest her hands on the sides of her chest, just in front of my widely stretched thighs. They moved inward, pushing against the sides of her breasts, bunching them toward the middle and increasing the pressure on my swollen pajamas.

"That feels good," she murmured.

Mom pushed her hands closer together and her breasts trapped the bulge in my pajamas between them. I couldn't help pushing my hips forward to press more tightly into their soft caress. I hesitated, expecting a rebuke. It didn't come so I urged myself forward again. I repeated several more subtle nudges, then a few that weren't so subtle. Mom kept her breasts pressed firmly together. I began sawing back and forth, somehow remembering to keep tickling Mom's forehead, face and neck. 

Mom's eyes were still closed but she was smiling. I realized with constrained glee that she was going to let me do this. She was going to even things out between us. Just then, my cock stiffened into full length, popping out between the front pee slit in my pajamas. If she opened her eyes now, she'd see my bare cock. Would she stop me?

I kept pushing back and forth. I couldn't take my hands away from Mom's face to cover myself because she might open her eyes. I just kept rocking.

Suddenly, Mom grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt, flipped it up, and trapped my stiff cock underneath as she pulled it down against her abdomen. My cock lodged between her bare breasts. I was still in shock when I felt Mom push them together, pressing tightly around my long cock. She opened her eyes.

"Is that what you want?" she purred.

Her lips seemed suddenly thick and pouty.

"Is it? Is this what you want to do, with your father right upstairs?"

If she thought mentioning Dad would make me wilt or chicken out, she was wrong. I grew harder and started sliding my cock through her clenched tits.

"Oooohhh, that's it. You'd better hurry, he could come down any minute."

She pouted her lips teasingly at me and I fucked her tits faster in response. Mom kept watching me, teasing me with her flashing eyes and pouting mouth. I tried to pull her head up and shoved my cock higher but she quickly moved her left hand up and clamped the neck of the sweatshirt close to her chest, blocking my path. I dropped my right hand to replace her left on that tit, pushing it in to tighten the sheath.

A few thrusts later, I dropped my other hand and slid both inside to grab her bare tits, flipping the sweatshirt up far enough so I could watch my cock sliding between them. Mom curled her right arm behind her head and began whispering to me, urging me on with words I couldn't hear but whose sound was terribly exciting.

My cock suddenly unleashed its torrent. I hunched over, watching my thrusting prick empty itself onto Mom's chest. I pulled back a bit and watched it fill the valley between her tits and then drip down her sides. I was gasping for breath. I think for a moment I had forgotten to breathe.

"That was awesome, Mom. Just awesome!"

I leaned forward to kiss her. This time she didn't shy away and after a few seconds, she kissed me back. My tongue found its way into her mouth and entwined in hers. Then we were sucking each other's mouth. We both gasped for air when the kiss was finished and I could see that Mom was very excited. We were about to kiss again when Dad's door opened.

I rolled off Mom and she snatched the blanket, feverishly spreading it over her legs and then pulling it up to cover her chest. She looked down at me in horror and I realized my cock was still hard and poking out of my pajamas. Dad had started down the stairs and was almost to the landing. Mom flung the blanket at me but it fell short of covering my cock. Frantically, I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it onto my lap just as Dad turned the corner. He went straight into the kitchen, as he usually did, and we spread the blanket out to cover us both. I put the pillow over my lap for good measure. Dad exited the kitchen to join us for the few moments it took for the kettle to boil.

"Ah, a real chick flick then?"

I nodded and Mom just watched the movie, ignoring him, much as he did when the news was on. I was amazed by how calm she looked because I knew how excited she had been. There was something wild in her eyes in those last moments that I never wanted to lose. I wanted to see it again, now.

Dad stepped forward a bit, thinking the kettle was done but it wasn't so he stayed to watch the movie. I took advantage of his forward stance to move my hand onto Mom's tummy and started undoing the button at the top of her jeans. She moved to stop me and turned to flash a stern look but when our eyes met she relinquished her hold on my wrist. She acquiesced while I fiddled with her button, staying quite still and gazing into my eyes while I undid her pants, lying there covered in my cum under her sweatshirt at her husband's feet. I spread my fingers and the old zipper easily parted. I slipped my fingers onto her panties and she pressed up to meet them.

The kettle boiled and Dad moved into the kitchen. As soon as he passed through the doorway, I sat up, put both hands under the blanket, and jerked Mom's jeans down over her hips and pulled them halfway up her thighs, momentarily lifting her knees from the ground. Mom was taken aback by my move but there wasn't anything she could do but quickly cover herself again before Dad returned.

She looked surprised when Dad turned back into the living room instead of going upstairs. I was certainly surprised. Why did he want to watch a chick flick? Bugger off, I thought. Then, I realized this was perfect. Mom would likely call it quits as soon as he was gone. I had to take advantage of the few brief minutes he was here. He hadn't sat down. He was standing where he'd been before going into the kitchen, so he wouldn't actually see anything unless he looked down and back. I stretched my hand onto Mom's tummy and pushed down toward her panties.

They were gone. They must have slipped down with her jeans. My fingers moved over soft, puffy skin and a light sprinkle of pussy hair. I was sure I had felt more hair last time. Mom must have trimmed most of it away. My cock surged at the thought of her fixing up her pussy and I knew that she must have been thinking of me while she did it. It's going to be mine, I thought, electricity bolting up and down my legs.

I found it. Mom's bare, wet pussy. I didn't push my fingers in right away. Instead, I started to tease her, brushing lightly back and forth across her lips, then tracing my fingertip slowly around the edge of her pubes, circling several times. I let my palm rest lightly atop her mound and stretched my finger down her crack, reaching toward her darker hole but not reaching it, then scratching back along her perineum.

As I dragged my finger back up onto her pussy I faked as if to go around the edge again then quickly moved back into slit and dug my way up the length of her soaking groove, then flicked my fingertip out before inserting it into her pink hole and plunging it in as far as I could. I kept the depth and started wiggling my finger around and around, scraping as much of her inner wall as I could. I didn't pull out until Dad looked like he was about to turn around to say goodnight. Instead, he just walked away and climbed the stairs.

He couldn't have covered the four short stairs from the landing to the hallway before I had flung the blanket off Mom and positioned myself under her legs.

"Oh, no. Scotty, don't. Don't fuck me. Don't," Mom gasped.

"I won't," I cried, equally breathless. "I'll just do what I did last night."

To prove it, my fingers found her pussy again and slipped inside. Mom protested but after a few journeys in and out of her wet cunt, her effort became quite feeble and quickly petered out. Dad's return had worked out perfectly. Mom was too excited now to quit without some kind of release. She was ready for a good fingering, but I had other ideas.

While one hand was busy inside Mom's pussy, I used the other to slide her jeans and panties off. I used my left arm across the underside of Mom's knees to shove her thighs back onto her tits keeping her very exposed, which was a fantastic sight, and unable to see that my cock was once again bursting through my pajamas. I pushed Mom's legs back firmly and used her stretched condition to work several fingers inside her already soaking cunt. I don't think this woman had been fucked in anything but the most boring way for years.

As tight as she was from sparse sex, she opened eagerly to the thick thrust of my fingers. I was working most of them inside her now, twisting about more than thrusting in and out. When I did push in, I did it slowly, allowing her to accommodate my invasion, letting her invite me further. I hadn't intended to, but the way she welcomed the thickness of my fingers in up to the top, past all my knuckles, made me think she wanted more and I pushed slowly forward until I was halfway to my wrist.

I expected it to be too much but Mom moaned and whispered a name. Donny.

I pulled back slowly, then twisted back in, pushing all the way.

"Oh, god. Donny. Don't, don't."

There was no way a woman making the mewling sounds she made as my hand moved in and out really meant don't. I kept twisting slowly in and out, in and out. Then suddenly, I started pushing in and out very quickly. Mom went wild, her hips bucking to meet my hand. I stopped. Mom moaned.

I grasped both hips in my hands and lifted Mom's ass up, then leaned forward, pressing my chest against the back of her thighs, and shoved my cock inside her, all the way until I was plugged in as deep as I could get. She didn't fight me. She was too far gone. If I had to be this Donny guy to fuck her, then Donny I would be.

I started pumping my beautiful, wild, free mother, her haunches bent back, thighs pressing against her chest.

"God, baby. You feel good," I cried.

I hadn't meant to say that, or anything, that could wreck the illusion that I was Donny. I leaned into Mom, fitting an ankle past each side of her head and humped her quickly as if to put distance from my outburst. She looked so awesome, her whole body jerking up and down from my pounding. I slowed down and stretched forward between her legs, trying to kiss her. Mom's arms reached up to grasp my face and she stretched up to kiss me, sucking my tongue into her mouth.

I grasped her ankles and spread them wide, relishing in the sight of my cock moving slowly in and out of her cunt. I stopped, fully inside, then drew slowly back, paused, and shoved even more slowly back in. I loved the way she arched her back in response, her head tilting back, a silent moan painting her face. Back, then in, and slowly back again, and in. Fuck this was great.

I drew back and slammed in hard, jerking an audible gasp from Mom's lips. Out and back in fast again, and again, and again. I slowed down but shoved in hard, pushing Mom up on the pillows, raising her head onto the middle of the seat cushion. Holding her there, I quickly slammed in and out a dozen times, then let her fall back down with me as I pulled completely out. I pulled her legs together again, pushed them back onto her chest, and reached around to firmly grasp a tit in each hand, leaning in to tilt her ass up toward me. Inserting the tip of my cock inside, I paused.

"Fuck me, baby," she cried. "Please fuck me."

I responded with vigor, slapping into her thighs, now thoroughly wet with her copious juice. I was mad with desire. This was beyond my wildest dreams, even as wild as they had been the past week.

"That's it, baby," she urged. "Fuck me really hard."

I was jackhammering into her now. I was almost there. A few more strokes and I would be done, I would have tricked her into fucking me, her son, instead of the Donny of her past her mind told her she was once again spreading her legs for. This was, in Mom's terms, blowing my mind.

Then she blew mine.

"Oh, Scotty. Fuck me good. Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

I blew my wad, I burst her sunflower, I spunked her silly. It wasn't like with other girls, or when I jacked off. I didn't' spurt. Instead, I released a steady flow of jism. I just unloaded a gushing stream of cum until I was empty and collapsed onto her. Mom began to stroke me from my shoulders to my ass, her fingers trailing sexily up and down.

"That's it baby. It's ok, son. It's ok."

When I could breathe again, I pulled up and Mom rose to give me a quick kiss on the forehead.

"I think that's enough for tonight, don't you?" she asked, just like she had the other night except this time, she had a big grin on her face.

Mom pushed me off and got up. She gathered the blanket together with her jeans and panties and walked toward the stairs.

"Don't forget to turn off the TV and the lights," she said.

I watched her go up the stairs holding her bundle tightly to her side, bare ass jiggling beneath her sweatshirt, the fleshy bits sagging down at the outer bottom edges of her pearish bum which swung invitingly with each step. I wanted her again. Already.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was Friday night. Mom had made a dinner for Dad and I to warm up.

"I'll just take a taxi, you don't need to wait up for me," Mom was saying to Dad.

"Well, that'll be expensive," Dad complained.

"I'm not coming home before ten just to save money on a taxi," Mom replied in a strained voice.

"Hey Mom, I'll pick you up," I offered.

"There. Scott will pick me up." Mom turned back to me. "Are you sure? I don't know how long I'll be. I might be ready right after dinner, and then again, I might want to stay out for a few drinks."

"I don't care Mom. I'll come as soon as you call, however long it is."

"You're so sweet to me," Mom smiled, stepping forward and stretching up to give me a kiss on the cheek.

I was surprised and pleased when she changed direction at the last moment and put her full mouth on mine, slipping her tongue quickly, and briefly, inside. She stepped back with a big smile, "Ready?"

She didn't even look around to see where Dad was. Fortunately, he was out of sight in the kitchen.

"I'm taking Mom downtown, Dad."

"Take my car," he called. He came out of the kitchen, holding his keys out. "Your mother doesn't want to be seen in that Jeep of yours."

I smiled to myself. You mean, you don't want your wife to be seen in and old Jeep. But I took the keys. I followed Mom out to the car, realizing Dad was right as I watched Mom's slender legs click down the sidewalk in her high heels. It would be hard for Mom to keep her dress at an appropriate level getting in and out of my Jeep. The door closed behind us; Dad hadn't even given Mom a kiss goodbye. Mom walked to the passenger side of the car. I rushed to open the door for her.

"Why, sir. Aren't you the chivalrous one," Mom smiled and batted her eyes.

I helped her into the car, admiring her legs, though she kept the dress at a reasonably proper level. Mom asked me to stay for a few minutes until she had met up with Jena. She didn't want to be stuck downtown by herself if something went amiss. I pulled up in front of the hotel and let Mom out of the car. I told her I'd wait until she popped out of the lobby to let me know everything was fine and to call me when she wanted me to come back. I said to just give me a wave and I'd be gone.

Mom disappeared into the hotel for three or four minutes before she reappeared. Instead of waving, Mom walked toward me. Two women followed her out of the hotel, one about her age and a girl, a very pretty one, about mine. They were obviously mother and daughter. The mother was a more buxom version of herself, as I had now seen her many times in pictures. Jena.

I rolled the passenger window down and Mom popped her head inside. She was happy and excited.

"Park the car, honey. Jena and Jenny want to meet you."

Jena came joined Mom and poked her head inside too.

"Come on, young fella. You're coming with us." She stood and waved at the doorman. "Park this thing," she dismissed Dad's prized Lexus offhandedly. He ran around the front of the car to my door. Jena leaned down again, "Come on. Do as your mother says."

I got out of the car and joined Mom and Jena, and Jenny. Jenny nodded and smiled at me but Jena was talking to Mom.

"No, no. We'll go to a pub. This place is too stuffy." Assuming agreement, she started walking down the street. Mom smiled a me, shrugged, and followed. Jenny took my arm and pulled me along. "There's no use arguing with Mom," she said.

As we walked down the street, I realized my picture of Jena was not quite accurate. I had visualized a sexy but quiet earth goddess but she was anything but. True she was still good looking but quiet she was not. She was a very outgoing and boisterous person.

I had never been to the pub Jena took us to. It had great food and was a lot of fun. I declined a drink but Jena insisted that I could have one or two before driving home. Dinner would take hours she said. She was right. It was over three hours before we left the pub and I had had more than a couple. We returned to the hotel and went up to Jena's room. She and Mom talked all the way back and in the elevator too. They had barely stopped talking enough to eat in the pub but they showed no sign of running out of things to say.

As soon as we were in the room, Jena pulled out several bottles of wine.

"No, no, I can't have any more. I have to drive Mom home," I protested.

"You can't drive now, you've had too much to drink," Jena insisted outrageously. "And your mother's going to stay here tonight because have lots more jawing to do."

"Oh, Jena. I can't," Mom cried.

"Why not? There's two kingsize beds right here," Jena waved her arm in a sweep across the room. "It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before."

Mom blushed. "But I didn't bring anything."

"So? When did you ever need more than a pair of jeans, or even that?"

Mom giggled. "But Gordon will freak out."

"Call him and tell him you're staying with me tonight and Scott is staying too to make sure you're all right. Scott, you call for your mother. The phone's over there."

With that, Jena dragged Mom over to the bed by the window and they began talking again. Jenny pushed me toward the phone. I called Dad. He was upset but his logical mind told him there was nothing he could do, especially when I told him I'd had a few to drink. That settled it; he didn't want me driving his car. I had the feeling he was only angry because he would have to use Mom's car or my Jeep instead of his Lexus if he needed to go anywhere the next morning.

I put the phone down and Jenny handed me a glass of wine. I smelled marijuana. Turning around, I saw Mom and Jena sitting cross-legged on the bed, each with a wine glass in their hand, passing a joint. Jena held it out to Jenny and she took a hit, then handed it to me. I shook my head.

"Come on, Scott," Jenny said. "You can't leave me alone with these two and it will kill you to be the only straight one in this room.

I acknowledged her logic and took a puff. Half an hour later I was much more adept at toking. We were all sitting in a circle on the one bed and I was trying to convince myself that the dope had no affect on me but intrinsically knew I was losing that argument. I didn't have any more weed, which is a good thing, but I was already well on my way.

We were laughing and giggling at everything anyone said. Jena had taken her slacks off and was sitting in just a blouse and panties. Mom still had her dress on but it was pulled up to her hips and she had removed her pantyhose. It was a wonderful, casual show of womanly legs. Jenny and I were still fully dressed. We started another bottle of wine.

"Home made," Jena answered with pride when I asked what kind it was since it didn't have a label.

"We make it right on the farm," Jenny added.

"The farm?" Mom asked.

"You know," Jena said. "The old commune."

"The commune?" Mom was clearly surprised. "I thought you went back east?"

"We've been back for eight years, haven't we Jenny? Since my divorce."

Jenny nodded.

"I'm surprised it's still there," Mom said, incredulously.

"So was I," Jena concurred with her disbelief, "and even more that some of our old friends were still there, too. Quite a few, actually."

Mom was shocked. "You didn't say anything about this when you called, or tonight."

"I had to wait until it felt right," Jena explained. "I couldn't just blurt it out."

"Who ..."

"The best ones," Jena broke in. "And him." Jena glanced quickly at me. "Donny."

"I know about Mom's old boyfriend," I said.

"He wasn't a boyfriend ...," Jena started to say.

"Yeah, yeah, we were all just close friends," Mom broke in.

"Very close," Jenny added a rare comment.

"So tell me about it," Mom said.

"I have to go pee," I announced, crawling off the bed.

The women all burst out laughing as I stumbled to the washroom.

Jena yelled after me, "A gentleman always runs the water when he's goes."

What was that supposed to mean, I wondered going into the the bathroom and pushing at the door behind me which didn't click all the way shut. I turned on the tap anyway, feeling kind of silly, and took a leak.

When I was done and had opened the door, in the fog of my brain, I heard Jena say, "He looks just like his father."

"Shhhhhhhhh."

That had to be my mother but it sounded like Jenny had joined in too. Another long burst of giggles. Women.

What was she on about? I didn't look anything like Dad. A little like Mom, but not much. I could have been adopted and sometimes wondered because of my birth just a few months after Mom and Dad were married but just figured that Mom and Dad had married while she was pregnant. A forced marriage explained a lot about the way they were. What the hell, I thought, I needed another glass of wine, and maybe another hit. They already had another one going. This was going to be a hell of a night.

I was the first go go. At some point, I must have stumbled over the free bed and crashed. I woke up to the sound of muffled voices. The room was lit only by the city lights from outside and the red lights on the clock radio on the bedside table. I looked across the gap between the two beds and saw two female figures sitting on the bed. I looked harder. They both seemed to be naked. I strained my eyes. They were. I recognized the profile of my mother's breasts and the meaty size of the other woman's guaranteed that they belonged to Jena.

Where was Jenny? I couldn't turn my head without giving away that I was awake. I strained for a sound that would indicate her whereabouts. Was she in the bathroom? No. There was silence from that quarter. Was she lying on the bed behind our mothers? I couldn't be sure. Maybe she had gone out. I returned my eyes to consider Mom's breasts and Jena's larger ones. They were almost touching.

Suddenly, they did. My mind blazed back to full clarity. Jena had said something and they both laughed quietly, leaning forward, and that's when their breasts touched. Another quiet giggle. Jena shook her tits against Mom's and Mom wiggled hers back. More laughter, then Jena reached out and cupped the bottom of Mom's left breast, the one closest to me. Mom's breath sucked in sharply and she glanced toward me. Jena turned to look at me too.

I froze but tried to breathe quietly and regularly, as if sleeping, but watched through slitted eyes. After a moment, the women turned their gaze to each other. Jena's far arm moved, I suppose to take hold of Mom's other breast. Mom's arm rose to let her hand caress Jena's face, then slid down to her neck and over her chest, brushing over the upper swell of her breast and then down until it finally cupped Jena's tit the way she held her own.

They kissed. Quietly, slowly. It was one long kiss rather than a series of short, ever longer ones. I was disturbed by the sound of breathing that wasn't coming from the other bed, and didn't seem to be mine. There was a rustle behind me and I realized that Jenny hadn't gone out, she was lying on the bed behind me. She was changing her position. Would she see her mother and mine? Would she think I was asleep? I stayed very still. I hadn't moved, so if she was awake she probably thought I wasn't, especially since I must have been out when she went to bed.

My cock was rising. Jesus Christ. I wasn't dressed. I didn't remember taking off my shirt and jeans. I knew I was wearing underwear because my stiff cock was straining uncomfortably within its boundaries, but I daren't move lest I show Jenny I was awake. I didn't want anything to stop this show. I couldn't believe Mom was bi. Nothing I had ever experienced with Mom in my whole life — not a comment, a look or anything — gave the slightest hint. This was incredible.

Mom and Jena stopped kissing. They fondled each other for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes. Jena leaned forward to renew their kiss but Mom pushed her back, following and crawling on top as Jena opened her legs and accepted her in a feminine embrace. They kissed and as it lengthened, their torso's twisted slowly in a bid to become one, Mom's bottom grinding down between Jenas thighs.

More rustling, then a hand curling over my hip, reaching down, grasping the front of my shorts, squeezing my cock. It was all I could to not to cry out. If she thought I was sleeping this was a sure fire way to find out. Why else would I have a huge hardon?

"Aren't they beautiful?" Jenny whispered.

I didn't respond.

"Obviously you think so, or your cock wouldn't be so hard."

I started to whisper back but she shushed me.

"Shhhhhh. They'll hear you. They can't see or hear me, I'm behind you and close to your ear, but you have to stay quiet and still. Here let me get this for you."

Jenny released her grip on my shorts and pulled the top out, releasing my rock hard cock. She stretched the elastic waistband down under my balls and pushed the back down off my ass.

"Nice," she whispered. "If you don't ruin it, I'll let you put this in me after they go to sleep."

Jenny's small hand circled around my cock and squeezed, then started slowly stroking up and down my shaft.

"Wouldn't you like to fuck them? Look at them rubbing their pussies together. See how tenderly they kiss, how sweetly they touch, how carefully your mother suck's my Mom's tits? That's how a woman wants to be loved. Slow and languid, in no hurry. Well, sometimes," she added, squeezing my cock hard.

We watched as our mothers made love, their bodies slowly twisting and turning, rubbing against each other until they were moving more urgently but not quickly. Despite the lack of frantic movement, their whole coupling screamed intensity. Jenny stroked my cock, holding when she sensed I couldn't take any more, squeezing my balls hard a couple of times when she knew she'd let me go too far, stopping my explosion just in the nick of time. One of those times was when she pushed herself against my butt, letting me know by the press of her pubic hair that her pussy was ready and waiting.

The moaning finally stopped. Our mothers were done. When the gasps had long subsided and there were no more soft murmurs, when the sound of heavier, steady breathing filled the room, and only then, Jenny urged me to turn around. I rolled right on top of her between her spread legs.

"Quiet. You have to do it really slow and gentle so they won't wake up."

I was already pushing inside her. I started slow but it was so hard. Every time I quickened my pace, Jenny pushed down and out on my hips, forcing me back into line. But she was very naughty because she would then bite and nibble my neck and ears, whispering urgently for me to fuck her harder. As soon as I sped up, she'd slow me down, then laugh and urge me on again. It was frustrating and exhilarating at the same time. I was writhing and grinding on her instead of pounding like I wanted to, much like Mom had made love to Jena.

Jenny couldn't stop me on the final run. Nothing could. I tried hard but when the final release was ready to go up the pipe, I just let go. Thankfully it was of short duration and didn't wake our mothers. I stayed on top, loath to pull out of her silky sheath but finally succumbing to her shoves and rolling to the side. I started to talk but she put her hand over my mouth. That's the last thing I remember. I fell asleep.

When I woke up it was lighter but still relatively dark. I craned my neck to see the clock. It was just after four in the morning. The moms were still sleeping, Mom just across from me on the near side of the bed. I turned over to look at Jenny. She was sleeping on her stomach with the covers down to the small of her back. Casting a glance over my shoulder to make sure the moms were asleep, I turned back and pulled the covers down to reveal Jenny's stunning little butt. I ran my hand gently over it, tracing my finger along her crack and dipping my hand between her legs, reaching for the back of her pussy. Her eyes opened, startling me. She smiled, and opened her legs, eyes sparkling.

With another quick look over my shoulder, I shifted over between her open legs and lowered myself down until my cockhead was nuzzling her muff from behind. I pushed and slid easily into her wetness, shoved harder and forced my way completely through her slick tunnel. Lying on her back, I began slowly thrusting in and out, my head sideways, facing our moms, ready to roll off at the first sign of wakefulness.

Jenny knew how to tease without whispering. Every wrench of her hips, each arch back and tug forward, clenching my cock in a fierce grip, was perfectly designed to thrill and torture. Exquisite sensations followed by painful restraint and, just when I thought I couldn't hold back any more, Jenny would cock her ass back, squeeze my cock hard, and pull so hard on it I thought she was trying to rip it off at the root.

She turned her head the same way as mine but pulled back so she could whisper in my ear, urging me on, goading me to come, asking me if I loved the feel of her cheeks and wouldn't I like to be inside them one day. I sensed that she could make me come whenever she wanted with just a few whispered pearls. I was putty in her hands.

I started thrusting deeper without withdrawing my cock, just bulging insider her, exerting every muscle in my thighs to the utmost in the effort. Jenny obviously loved the pulsing feel of my bulging, swelling cock. She turned her face into the pillow and I knew she was ready. I, too, was almost there, ready to fill her again. I closed my eyes with the strain and clamped my mouth shut tight to kill the gut-wrenching moan that welled up in my throat with tidal wave of sperm shooting up my shaft into Jenny's unprotected cunt. One, two, three giant spurts. I opened my eyes as several minor floods followed ... and looked right into my mother's eyes.

Mom smiled and blew me a kiss but otherwise she lay still, feigning sleep as I had the night before. I smiled back and then just enjoyed this very special moment. When Jenny stirred beneath me, Mom closed her eyes.

- - - - - - - - - -

Jena and Mom were the first up for showers, then Jenny and finally me. We went downstairs for breakfast in the hotel and then said our goodbyes. Jena insisted that Mom come out to the 'farm' and to bring me. Jenny chimed in her support on that note. I said I would definitely come whether Mom did or not and that prompted a promise from Mom to give it serious thought.

When Mom and Jena hugged each other one last time, Jenny walked over and threw her arms around me and gave me a big kiss, right in the hotel lobby. Then, she pulled back and said, "Whew, I've never done that before. I bet that even tops Mom's shenanigans," she said, looking over her shoulder at our moms.

"What? Kissed someone in a hotel lobby?"

"No, silly. Incest. I just fucked my brother."

She turned and ran past her mom to the elevator. Mom was waving and turning toward the door. I was dumbfounded.

"Come on Scott. We've got to go. Come on," Mom urged as I just sood there, staring at the elevator that had just consumed Jenny and her mother. Mom tugged at my sleeve. "Let's go."

I was speechless most of the way way home. Mom didn't notice at first, she was so bubbly talking about Jena and all the people they had talked about, especially the ones that were still there and how it would be so cool to meet them again. Eventually, she saw that I was distracted.

"What's wrong, Scott." Mom looked at me more intently. "Are you sad to see Jenny go? We can visit them if you want. I know you had a pretty good time last night, or at least this morning," she laughed.

I was unresponsive and Mom stopped laughing. "What's wrong, son?"

"Jenny said something about me being her brother."

"Oh. I see," Mom said, her voice suddenly quiet.

"What do you see?"

"I see you want to know more about it and why you didn't know about it until now."

"That's right."

"The first part is simple, really. Jena and I slept with the same guy at the commune and we both got pregnant. I left and met your father. As for the second part, your dad didn't want anyone to know that you weren't his child and I promised him I would never tell anyone, not even you. He's been a decent father to you, Scott." Mom reached over and put her hand on my knee.

"I know, Mom, but it's a pretty big shock."

"Yes, but you're a big boy now. Don't dwell on things, just take them as they are."

"Like you and Jena and the rest of them at that commune would do?"

"That's right. And it's a farm now," Mom tried to lighten me up.

"I need time to adjust to this, Mom. I mean, Jenny is my sister and we...,"

"I know. But, you do have a little experience in that direction."

"Mom! Yeah, well...,"

Mom changed the direction of the conversation. "Did you really like doing Jenny that way?"

"Mom!"

"Well, I'm just curious." She turned and looked out the passenger window. "I haven't done it that way for over twenty years." Mom turned back to me and smiled.

"Really?" I smiled back at her. "Who was the last one to have you like that? Donny? My real father?"

Mom's smile disappeared. "One of your fathers," she corrected me.

"Of course, one of my fathers. The fun one."

"Yes," Mom agreed. "The fun one."

We decided not to speak the rest of the way home.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dad was surprisingly cheerful when we got home. He thanked me for looking after Mom and being there to take care of her. Evidently, Mom had gone straight to her room before Dad could ask if she had enjoyed herself, and to apologize for his abruptness the night before.

"Did she have a good time?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, Dad," I said. "She had a great time."

"That's good. "I've making hot chocolate and Bailey's for her." He smiled and waited for an acknowledgement of his kindness.

"That's really thoughtful, Dad, but I think she might want to be alone for awhile. It was a pretty intense visit and she may need to go over it in her mind."

Dad nodded. "Hmmm, you mean, she may need a little space right now?

"Yeah, something sixties like that."

"Ok. I'm cool with that. Are you going upstairs?"

I nodded.

"Can you just pop this in to her? Just say I asked you to drop it off and that I'd like to take her out for dinner tonight so she might want to rest this afternoon."

"Ok, Dad."

I didn't didn't want to disturb Mom because I thought she really did want to think about things. Dad was trying to be thoughtful, even if he did want a reward for it. I think he knew how much Mom's old friends meant to her and he might be worried about it, maybe even felt threatened. I was surprised at his sensitivity, realizing not onliy that she might want to be alone but that she might not want to see him in particular.

"It'll be ready in a minute," he said, pleased by my response.

Dad handed me a large thermos and a mug when it was ready. "I think I'll go putter around," he said. "Maybe you should do the same. Don't do anything that will disturb your mother. Ok?"

"Ok, Dad."

I didn't knock, I just went right in with the large coffee thermos of hot chocolate and Bailey's Cream. Dad had insisted I carry it on a tray with a mug. I closed the door softly because I could see that Mom was lying on her bed and might actually be sleeping since she'd had so little the previous night. I carried the tray over and set it on Mom's dresser, then transferred the thermos and mug to the bedside table.

It looked like Mom was sleeping. She must have flopped onto the bed as soon as she came in because she was wearing the dress she'd worn last night, sans pantyhose and shoes. I tip-toed, belatedly, around the bed and started toward the door but something caught my eye and I turned around.

What was it?

I looked at Mom. She was lying on her stomach with her left leg straight out and her right pulled up with the knee stretched out to her side. The dress was quite high up, putting her legs almost completely on display. I admired the taper of her thighs and how well-muscled her calves were. It reminded me of how her toes had curled when she came. There was a stirring in my groin and my eyes were drawn up Mom's legs to the point where they nearly joined, disappearing under her dress. Her bottom rose and fell slightly with her even breathing. She really was asleep.

I approached the bed, walking around to the other side, behind her. I leaned over, careful not to put any weight on the bed, or even to bump it, and gently pulled the dress higher, onto her bottom. Quietly, I returned to the foot of the bed and examined Mom's legs again. This time I could see all the way to the joining point.

Mom wasn't wearing panties. I stiffened into hardness and covered it with my hand over my jeans. I could just see the bottom of Mom's pussy. It too moved with her breathing, a tiny movement that was nevertheless an enormous tease. It made my cock hurt so I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed the zipper down. Ah, that was better.

Geez, her pussy seemed to be calling to me. I returned to the side of the bed and cautiously pulled Mom's dress higher, depositing the material in the small of her back, completely exposing her legs and bottom. I returned to the foot of the bed and examined her crack and pussy. Her right leg, stretched out like that, had pulled her lips slightly apart. I had to push my jeans and shorts onto my thighs to relieve the pressure from my ever stiffening cock. I took it in my hand and started stroking myself.

God almighty! If Dad changed his mind and came up to talk to Mom I would be caught red-handed with no possible way of talking my way out of it. Rather than dampening my rod, the thought made me even harder. I was like my mother. She got off on the potential of getting caught. Did she learn that on the commune, with so many good-looking young people in such close proximity 24/7?

Mom's behind, rising and falling with her breathing, was really beckoning to me now. I loved her ass, especially that bit on the bottom where it pouted out that extra bit. To think Dad had access to this all the time. But, no. What was that Mom had said, about seeing me with Jenny in the morning? Yeah. She said she hadn't done it that way for over twenty years.

Quickly, I shoved my jeans down the rest of the way. I started to get on the bed but stopped to take off my socks and shirt. If I was going to get caught, I may as well be caught doing it right. Carefully, I put a knee on the bed and gradually let my weight settle, then did the other knee. I crawled slowly up behind Mom.

Leaning down, I brought my face close to her bum and starting breathing hot air onto her bare pussy. It took some time but eventually Mom's breathing quickened. A little longer and I was rewarded with a couple of tiny beads of moisture on her pubes. I directed my breathing between them, blowing a little harder. Mom moved her left leg out a little, opening her slit a bit more. I blew and blew.

Her moisture content convinced me that it was time to make a move. I pulled up and reached for the zipper on the back of Mom's dress. Gently, I pulled it down. Placing my hands on either side of Mom, I stretched my legs out and held myself up on my toes. Carefully, I lowered my hips until my long cock dipped between Mom's legs, then pushed with my toes, transferring my weight forward until my cock grazed the bottom of Mom's ass and the rear of her pussy. 

Immediately, it began twitching, tapping on that moist groove. Mom sighed. I dipped and swung forward on my arms, increasing the urgency of my tapping dong. Bong, bong, bong.

Mom's ass twitched on each tap and she sighed again. Was she dreaming, dreaming of a time long ago, reviving faint tactile memories? Her ass was definitely moving to maintain contact with the tip of my cock. She wasn't just twitching now. The beginnings of a pelvic roll was in evidence. I pushed forward, trying to pry my way into her slit. Mom's ass lifted from the bed to accommodate my polite request. My tip poked into her wet bowl.

"Where's your father?"

I almost fell off my arms. I had thought she was asleep.

"Uh, he's, uh..."

"Did he go out?"

"No, he's around somewhere."

"Jesus Christ. Scott!"

"He asked me to bring you some hot chocolate with Bailey's in it." I nodded toward the bedside table as if she could see me or would look if she did.

"Do you think this is what he had in mind?"

Well no, of course not, I was about to reply. Then I noticed that Mom hadn't pulled away. In fact, she was still rolling her ass around in tiny movements in response to my still arching cock whose head hadn't left its insertion inside her slit. Now, I recognized that strange excitement in Mom's voice, seething under her words.

"I thought so. Do think I'm wrong? I could ask him?"

Mom didn't expect that. She laughed out loud and that caused the whole head of my cock to slip inside. Mom let out a little moan.

"What was that? You want me to ask him to be sure?"

There was a muffled 'no' as Mom turned her head into the pillow.

"It's no problem. I'll be right back. I think he's right across the hall in his office."

That was an outright lie. I knew Dad was downstairs or outside, given his warning to me not to do anything that would disturb Mom. But I was convinced Mom got off on such danger and my words had an immediate effect. Mom cocked her ass up and my cock slid halfway in. Man, that felt fucking awesome!

Mom's head turned to the side again. "He's right across the hall?"

"Yeah, I think so," I grunted, shoving all the way in, soaking up the exquisite joy of her spreading tunnel, the best resistance a man could experience.

"Then stop it. Get off me right now, Scott."

"Stop what," I moaned, pulling out and shoving in deeper. "Stop fucking you from behind?" I put extra emphasis on behind and thrust harder to make my point. Mom moaned.

"I mean it," she cried. "Get off me!"

"I am getting off on you."

Mom reacted by snapping her legs shut, clamping down on my cock, tightly trapping it deep in her pussy.

"That's not what I meant."

I quickly dropped my knees by Mom's hips and pulled my feet into the side of her legs. She couldn't open her legs now if she tried. I was now sitting on the back of her thighs, pressing her into the bed.

"I can't get off. You're holding me too tight."

I felt her try to open her legs.

"Scott, get off. Please." The cauldron of excitement was rampant in her whispered plea.

In reply, I started moving my cock the little bit I could manage with her clasping me so tightly. Mom's whole body started rocking into the mattress.

"You have the most awesome ass, Mom. You can't believe how good it feels to do you from behind."

I grabbed Mom's cheeks and kneaded them as I rocked into her behind. I wondered what it would be like to fuck her in the ass. I pulled her cheeks apart to look at that forbidden little hole, opening it in a little 'O' the size of a penny. For the life of me, I don't what possessed me but I drooled some spit onto her hole. I had never done this before with anyone. I moved my thumb into her crack and pushed my saliva around. Mom let out a long, low moan and that made me start really rocking into her.

"Slow down, slow down."

I did. "Am I hurting you?"

"No. But do me slowly like you did Jenny or your Dad will hear."

I was elated. She was going to let me fuck her, she wasn't going to try to stop me anymore. I released her cheeks and pushed her dress as high as I could, then leaned forward and slipped my hands under her belly and up to grasp her tits. I rocked slowly and steadily against her ass while I kneaded her tits, gradually paying more and more attention to her nipples. Before long, I was rolling and pinching and tugging her nipples while we fucked. She was loving it as much as I judging by the periodic release of a restrained grunt or moan.

I pulled up for a change, sitting upright on her thighs again but I didn't stop moving. I reached back and grasped her feet pulling them up, forcing her to bend her knees. Her sound changed as she reacted to the different feel that produced in her pussy. I fucked Mom like that for a couple of minutes, holding her ankles, then released her legs and grabbed her hands, pulling them up and back.

It was an awkward position for Mom but she didn't complain. She just moaned and grunted differently. So did I. I liked the look of her back arching up like that. I dropped her hands and leaned forward to grasp her hair, twisting it into a long rope, and then used it to pull her head up. That looked so great I started fucking her faster. Her head moving back as her shoulders were thrust forward made me fuck her even faster but Mom didn't complain. She seemed to be getting off on the wildness of it as much as I.

We were getting louder now but Mom didn't caution me to slow or quiet down. On the contrary, she was getting noisier and noisier. I had to release her hair and clamp my hand on her mouth but she twisted her head, almost making me lose my grip. She didn't try to get away. Instead, she sucked my fingers into her mouth and chewed on them, but not hard.

I lost it. I started rattling on her ass. I knew I was about to come and I went into gallop mode, hammering her into the mattress. I put both hands on her head and tried to put fingers from each into Mom's mouth. Oh god, oh god, I was coming, coming. It felt like every fluid in my body was draining out of me through a pipe that was too small, making it gush like a fire hose.

I slowed as my come subsided and released Mom's head. She fell into the pillow and my hands slid down to her narrow waist, circling it with my fingers, emphasizing the flare of her hips and ass. I held her firmly as I pumped my last few strokes and felt her come, moaning into the pillow, legs quivering between mine.

Before I got off Mom to get dressed, I leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"You don't need to wait another twenty years for that. You can have it from behind any time you want."

I turned to look back at the door. Mom was lying the same way as when I first came in with her right leg already back to its pulled up position. Only now, my cum was seeping out of her pussy.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dad did take Mom out for dinner that night. I was still awake when they came home and I could tell Mom was angry. As it turned out, Dad hadn't been worried about Mom being pulled away by her old friends. Evidently, he had been talking to his boss the night we were out and invited them for dinner on Sunday. This kind of thing had happened many times in the past but Mom seemed to be less and less willing to put up with it for the sake of Dad's career. At least that was the gist of the terse conversation I overheard before all the lights went out and silence settled on the house. I had been toying with the notion of enticing Mom out of her room after Dad had gone to sleep but soon gave up on that.

Mom was not in a good mood the next day. I tried to be as helpful as I could, offering to run to the store, and so on. Mom's mood didn't seem to improve through the day but when Dad's boss and his wife arrived, a woman Mom didn't particularly like, her demeanor changed. She was quite unexpectedly all smiles and sweetness. I could tell Dad was mildly surprised but simply counted his blessings rather than trying to understand it. He probably thought her earlier mood had just been a 'woman' thing.

After dinner and dessert, while everyone was in the living room having coffee, the boss's wife mentioned how pleased her husband was with how much work Dad did, inserting herself in an implied superior position over Mom. Dad beamed, taking her words at face value, unlike Mom. He passed off his efforts as ordinary accomplishments that any good employee would gladly contribute in a way that acknowledged how extraordinary they truly were.

It was at this point that I understood Mom's strange mood change. She interceded before anyone else could respond to Dad's comments by stating that her husband really felt he wasn't doing enough for the company and had the time to do so much more. Dad, who slaved many extra hours at home, gave Mom a funny look but when the boss said he was really pleased to hear that because he was considering Dad for a major new project, Dad was thrilled.

After the guests had left, Dad fell all over himself congratulating Mom on the wonderful dinner and how he couldn't have won this new confidence from his boss, which was sure to be followed by a promotion and a raise, without the little bit of extra help from her. He wasn't put off at all by the strange smile on Mom's face the whole time she busied herself cleaning up, basically ignoring everything Dad said. I helped Mom clean up as Dad followed Mom around talking excitedly and I didn't miss it but I didn't know what it meant. She had put Dad up for even more hours than he currently worked which would probably take up his weekends in addition to his evenings, and Dad was thanking her profusely. What was she up to?

Monday was one of the days that we all worked so dinner was a simple affair. Dad ate quickly because he had been given the first tasks on the new project that day and was keen to get started. He disappeared upstairs to his study without even watching the news. Mom took her time cleaning up and shooed me out of the kitchen, saying she didn't need my help, that I was working early tomorrow and she didn't work until Wednesday. She told me I should get ready for bed and then come down to watch a movie with her.

I ran literally upstairs, had a quick shower and hurried back down dressed in t-shirt and sweats. I had half thought our evenings in front of the couch were over but Mom's request suggested they weren't. Mom was still in the kitchen but I sat in front of the couch, leaving room for her to sit on the end. I pilled up a couple of pillows for her to rest against and peeked around the end for the box of pictures. They weren't there. I guess she would bring them down as soon as she got changed into her hippy outfit.

I was surprised and disappointed when Mom turned the light out in the kitchen and came to sit on the floor beside me without getting changed. She took the remote and switched it to a movie channel with a chick flick already in progress and proceeded to watch it. I wasn't sure what to do. This wasn't what I had expected. I was at a loss for how to proceed with Mom without the pretext of the picture game.

"Would you like me to get a blanket?" I finally asked.

"No."

That terse reply didn't sound promising.

"Aren't you a little cold?" I asked, suggestively.

"No."

Mom kept watching the movie. She hadn't even glanced at me. I watched the show too for several minutes, then got up.

"Well, I'm a little chilly," I said, and fetched a blanket.

Returning, I sat down and spread it over my legs.

"Want some?"

"No."

I watched the movie for a few more minutes, then turned to look at Mom. She ignored me. She was wearing a starchy white blouse tucked into a pair of black slacks, her normal work outfit. I spread the blanket out over her legs, making sure to cover her feet too which were bare. Mom didn't pay any attention. This was really strange.

I didn't look back at the movie. Instead, I watched Mom. She just watched the movie as if I wasn't there. Tentatively, I reached out and bumped her right breast from the side. Nothing. I did it again without any response so I turned my palm up and took the weight of her breast in my hand. Mom watched the TV. For a while after that, I held one breast and then the other, lifting them as if to take their measure and gently squeezing like she had worked the dough for the bread. Mom paid me no mind.

This was fine with me. I didn't understand this new game but I was willing to learn how to play. I unbuttoned the top three buttons on Mom's blouse and slipped my hand inside to caress her breasts through her bra. Mom was fine with that too, she just acted as if nothing was happening. I got up and straddled Mom's legs the way I had the week before to tickle her face. This time, I simply unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and started to fumble with her bra.

Mom's hand stopped me. Her other hand appeared and brushed mine aside. Casually, she twisted her bra undone and let her hands fall to her sides. I took her bare breasts in my hands and began to play. Mom's strange, listless behavior was making me quite hard. It was wierdly exciting. She seemed willing to put herself at my disposal, there for the taking. I decided to test this theory.

I pushed my sweatpants down, letting my hard, errant cock spring free. It wobbled proudly in front of Mom but she ignored it, watching the movie without giving it the benefit of even a cursory glance even when I grasped it and waved it around, tapping it onto the top of her tits. I pushed it down between them and pulled her swollen globes up, pressing them tight. I started sawing my cock back and forth through her tits. Mom's only reaction was to stretch her neck to one side so she could continue watching the movie.

I began to chafe between Mom's tits so I leaned down and drooled saliva on her chest, then pushed her tits back together and started fucking them again. I looked at the stairs nervously. I had lost track of time and wasn't sure how close we were to Dad's first break. I strained to hear anything coming from that direction, like the sound of a door opening. I couldn't stop now unless it was an emergency, it just felt too good, but I began moving faster so I could finish. I moved closer to Mom and tried to push my cock higher to tap against her mouth. About every fourth or fifth shove, I managed to rub the underside of my tip across her lips.

I don't know how I heard it but the click of Dad's doorknob twisting rattled through my brain. I jerked myself off Mom and sat down beside her, scrambling to pull the blanket over me. I was about to pull my sweats up when I saw Mom's bare tits bouncing on her chest. She wasn't making any effort to cover herself. I let go of my sweats and pulled the blanket up to Mom's shoulders, stretching an arm behind her head to hold it up on her far shoulder.

Dad was already coming down the stairs, mug in hand. He walked straight into the kitchen without looking our way. Looking down to check how well we were covered, I was horrified to see my cock making a pyramid under the blanket. I pushed it down but it simply sprang back, proud of itself. I heard Dad putting his mug in the microwave; I guess the project wasn't leaving enough time for a proper kettle-produced cup of tea. I pulled my right knee up and twisted toward Mom a little to hide my erection. The microwave dinged. God, I hoped he wouldn't come in to watch. I wasn't sure I could pull this off. I was scared.

Dad emerged from the kitchen and turned upstairs without saying a word or looking our way. I breathed a sigh of relief and took a few deep breaths before turning to Mom, expecting to see a similar reaction from her. I was amazed to see Mom staring blankly at the TV as if there had been no danger at all. Worse, the blanket had slipped from my grasp and fallen to her waist. Mom was sitting there, blouse and bra wide apart, tits hanging out in all their glory. If Dad had stopped to watch for a few minutes like he usually did, or even looked our way on his way out of the kitchen, all hell would have broken loose, but Mom was oblivious to it all.

I looked at her tits. They were indeed hanging out in all their glory. I leaned over to drool some more saliva between them. Mom put her hands on my head and pressed it down, looking over it to watch the movie. I resumed my straddling position and started thrusting between her slick tits again. I quickly regained my former momentum and, even better, managed to rub my tip across her mouth every second or third time.

It wasn't long before I came, erupting all over Mom's neck and getting some onto her mouth. When I was finished and had fallen back onto her thighs, Mom continued watching the TV despite the cum covering her chest and the little bit hanging off her chin.

I pulled up my sweats and fetched a dish towel, damped one corner of it, and returned to clean Mom's face and chest. She was listless and uncaring as I reconnected her bra and buttoned her blouse. I even tucked it into her slacks, making her perfectly presentable.

What had happened to my foxy, teasing, fun loving Mom? I didn't know who this person was and found it quite unsettling. She wouldn't talk to me and I finally gave up and went to bed, sure she was just in a strange mood.

- - - - - - - - -

The next morning and suppertime, Mom was her normal self. However, as soon as Dad went upstairs, she propped some pillows against the front of the couch, sat down, and started to watch a movie. I hung back and watched her, then sat on the couch at the far end. Mom, at least the woman sitting there that looked like Mom, continued watching TV as if I wasn't there. I got up, angry now, and started upstairs. If she wanted to play this shit, then she could do it on her own.

I turned at the stairs to see if she was looking, to catch her out in her silly game. But she wasn't. She was still sitting there in her white blouse and black slacks, staring at the TV. Despite myself, I began to get hard. She wasn't herself but she was still a good-looking woman and I was certain I could go in there and have my way with her.

It was too good to ignore. I got the blanket out of the hall closet, returned to the living room, and spread the blanket over Mom's legs, then fetched a dish towel. I kneeled down, straddling her legs and started to undo her blouse, then stopped. I had a better idea, one that was sure to draw a response from Mom. I pushed my sweats down over my ass and got up, then leaned down with bent knees until they rested against the seat cushion on either side of Mom's head.

Holding my cock in one hand, I held Mom's hair in the other and directed my cock to her mouth. Silently, it opened and I pushed the head in. I had expected shock and a violent reaction, at least some reaction. I didn't expect her listless compliance to let me go this far. I almost pulled out as if this had just been a test but the exquisite feeling of Mom's warm, wet mouth surrounding my helmet zoomed through my rod, hurtled up my spine and crashed into my brain.

I slipped my other hand behind Mom's head and started dipping my cock in and out of her mouth, gentle and slow, in and out. I took my time, now expecting no resistance from Mom and received none. I slipped in and out of her mouth as if I had all the time in the world. This time I had started very soon after Dad had gone upstairs so I knew I had lots of time on that front.

I watched my cock bulge Mom's cheek out as a dispassionate observer but soon tired of that. I started pushing deeper, taking quite an interest in how much of my shaft I could bury in Mom's face. I couldn't push much more than half way in. Mom gagged every time I hit the back of her mouth but I quickly pulled back. I found that I could slip back in almost right away as long as I was gentle. As I continued, Mom gagged less and less. I also discovered that I could keep my cock pressed in tight for several seconds if I pulled back to let her gulp in fresh air. This too led to longer and longer presses as Mom got used to it and I learned when to pull back.

Perhaps this was all helped by the copious lubrication of Mom's mouth. I noticed that the gagging and pressing against the entrance to Mom's throat produced a lot of gooey saliva. Lot's of it. I was glad I'd thought ahead to get the dish towel. It was getting easier and easier to fuck Mom's mouth the wetter it got and I was moving faster and deeper, and holding in longer and longer, and was becoming quite adept at knowing just when to let her suck in more air. I had forgotten how listless she was. This felt incredibly good and was outrageously exciting. The squelchy, sloppy sounds that filled the room as my cock worked her mouth raised the bar to an even greater level. I knew I could never again be without this feeling in my life.

It was just after this realization that it happened. I had been pressing my cockhead into the back of Mom's mouth for a new record and was just about to pull back when it suddenly slipped ahead a good inch. I wasn't sure what had happened but the feeling was wonderful, like a wide, wet, pulsating elastic had suddenly wrapped itself around the most sensitive part of my cock and was drawing it in, like a snake consuming its prey. Mom's breathing grew louder and, looking down, I realized she was sucking in and snorting air through her nose because her mouth was completely plugged by my cock.

My balls were hanging over Mom's chin. I was all the way in. I pulled slowly out, gave Mom sufficient time to gasp, and plunged back in. My hand slipped down to Mom's neck and the next time I withdrew and reentered, I felt Mom's throat bulge in concert with my thrust.

Oh, my god. Mom was deepthroating me! I pressed on her forehead and tipped her head back, for the first time tearing her eyes away from the TV. They closed, but her mouth remained open, even when I withdrew completely, waiting for my return. Slowly, I plunged in, pushing all the way down, feeling her throat bulge, holding, hearing her snort, pulling out, staring into her gaping mouth, then back in again, and again, and again.

A dozen more times and then Mom's mouth began filling with a thick white cream. I was coming, and she was swallowing. On purpose, I directed my cock away from her open mouth, spurting onto her cheeks, chin, and nose. I don't know why I did that. Perhaps because I was angry with her listless submission and wanted her to pay the price for allowing herself to be so completely dominated. It was incredibly euphoric. Even so, when I was done, I quickly cleaned Mom's face, guilt flowing through me even after it was spotless.

Mom had to work the next day. We went through the same routine: normal Mom until Dad went upstairs and then listless Mom appeared. I started fucking her mouth right away. Knowing what was coming, I had difficulty restraining myself, taking conscious care to work up to it gradually lest I hurt her in my eagerness. I spunked her face again and found it as strangely rewarding as the first time. I stopped trying to figure out why it was so satisfying and just recognized that it was what it was.

After cleaning Mom, I boiled the kettle and made a large pot of tea and took it upstairs to Dad. He was pleasantly surprised.

"Your work is a family affair, Dad. I'm glad to do my bit," I explained.

I told him that from now on, I would bring him a pot of tea so he didn't have stop working. I assured him that, "Mom and I will do everything we can to keep you up here working for the family."

Smiling at my own cleverness, I walked smugly downstairs. I twisted Mom over onto her knees and pressed her upper body onto the couch at a slight angle so she could see the TV. I pulled her slacks and panties down to her knees and unceremoniously entered her from behind and fucked her for several minutes like that. I dug deep, pushing in and up so forcefully I thought I might be lifting her knees right off the rug but of course that was just an impression. Nevertheless, I was gouging deep, squishing her cheeks hard to the bone.

While I pumped Mom, I tossed several pillows into a line on the floor. Grasping her shoulders, I pulled her up from the couch, spun her around until she was aligned with the pillows, and set her down on top of them. Quickly, I opened her legs and moved between them, pulling her hips up and slipping inside her pussy. I reached back to pick up her feet, leaned into her behind, and pounded away. A few minutes later, I released her feet and nudged her legs together, shifted up to straddle her thighs, grasped her buttocks, and entered her again. I rode her much longer that way. Fast and slow, stopping when I was about to come, then starting again until finally couldn't catch myself and let loose in her pussy.

The next two nights went went like that too. Both nights, I quickly took advantage of Mom's listless you-can-do-anything-with-me deportment. As soon as Dad want upstairs, I put my cock into her mouth, sliding in and out, pulling out to satisfy a juvenile desire to rub my cock around on her face. Around and around I dragged the underside of my cock over Mom's cheeks, nose and lips. I set the tip onto her eyelids and pressed gently down against her closed eyes, then up and across her forehead. I gazed, fascinated, at Mom's upturned face as my swollen dick rubbed wetly over her skin, which seemed aglow and even moved under my cock as if following a wave.

Love for Mom burst in my chest and permeated through my body. Who else but my mother would trust me enough to let me do this? I felt an overwhelming desire to bless her with my seed. Prying Mom's lower lip down, I slipped my cock inside her mouth and pushed slowly all the way in. I didn't move back and forth, I was in a hurry now and pressed into her throat. I slid my hand down to the front of Mom's neck to feel myself moving withing her. Magically, Mom managed to breath the whole time I was inside and I blew my load less than a minute later to the sound of her wheezing nostrils. When I was finished, I took a break to clean Mom up, made a pot of tea for Dad, then returned for a nice long doggy ride on the floor.

I did feel guilty for using Mom like that. Not while having her, of course, but I suffered afterwards. Most of the following day I promised myself I would smarten up. That is, right up to supper. Then, my resolve would begin to weaken. My cock would stir as I watched Mom preparing dinner and eating. She was wearing a dress and her legs added to her allure. The way she moved, her expressions, even the way she chewed her food: All of it made me want her again and I could hardly wait for Dad to get lost and leave her alone with me. Just one last time, I thought, then I'll be good. My cock rose to half mast in anticipation.

It was Friday night and Dad was surprised when I assured him that I would bring his tea up for him, that he didn't have to come down for it.

"You're not going out with your friends?" he asked.

"No, I thought I'd stay home and hang out with Mom since you're so busy working. I mean, Mom knows you have to, but she's still a little bored."

Dad nodded and produced a rare smile. "You've done a marvelous job of raising your son, Terri. He's grown into a very thoughtful young man."

"Yes, very thoughtful," Mom agreed.

Dad didn't seem aware but I noticed Mom already slipping into listlessness as we finished the rest of our dinner. I finished my dinner first and waited for my parents to finish. Dad was done next. He sat impatiently for a minute watching Mom, then got up and left.

"I have a lot to get done this weekend," he apologized, not waiting for a response.

Mom was just pushing the remains of her food around her plate. I got up and helped her to her feet. Steering her into the living room, I sat her down on the floor in front of the couch and sat next to her. Unlike the previous few nights, I didn't immediately pull my sweats down and feed my cock into her face. Guilt was drowning me, perhaps due to the act of dragging her limp body and depositing it on the floor, ready for me to use.

I put my arm around Mom and drew her to me. I did love her. I squeezed and hugged her affectionately, and the guilt began to dissipate. I reached onto the end table for the remote and scanned the channels for a suitable movie. Hugging Mom to me again, I pulled her tighter so I could get my right arm around her back. She twisted toward me and settled onto my chest. As I patted her hair and rubbed her back, Mom lifted her foot over mine, probably for comfort to relieve the twisting pressure she was putting on her spine. I pulled to help straighten her body and ended up pulling her right on top of me.

I slid my hands around Mom's waist and stroked her back through the dress, trying to comfort her. However, I couldn't ignore the weight of her breasts on my chest and certain feelings began to stir inside my pants. My back strokes began stretching lower and eventually I left my right hand permanently cupping her left buttock. It wasn't much longer before my left took up a matching position under her right buttock.

I began to nuzzle Mom's neck and soon I was kissing it long and hard, sucking it, and thinking about the danger of leaving a large, visible hickey. I was hard now and very conscious of the womanly heat covering my loins. I pulled her dress up to her hips and immediately noticed a jump of several degrees. Only her panties and my sweats separated us now.

I slipped my hands down to her buttocks again, inside her panties. Massaging her bare ass, I remembered the sight of them and the sexy plumpness of her partially sagging cheeks. Oh, god. I wanted to be in there again. I pushed my hands together, fingers meeting in Mom's crack, and pulled them apart, reaching forward to wrap further underneath, letting my index fingers find and spread her lips from behind. I groaned into Mom's neck. I can't help it, I pleaded silently for forgiveness.

With a cry, I pulled my hands away, but I hadn't found salvation. I moved immediately to my sides, grabbed my sweats, and roughly shoved them down, lifting Mom and I off the rug until they were almost to my knees. Slipping my left hand between Mom's legs, I found and pulled her panties to one side, then awkwardly tried to feed my cock into her pussy. I had difficulty but Mom moved and somehow I slid half way in. I grabbed her ass again and pulled her to me, pushing up, crying out as my cock slid through her slick tunnel.

"I can't help it," I cried out loud. I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks but that didn't slow me down as I urgently pumped up and down. One hand slid up Mom's back to keep her pressed close and the other slid around to take hold of her tit. I struggled to lift her weight and mine, walloping her pubes and getting smacked back after I fell back to the floor and Mom's pussy caught up, only to find I was already on the way back to meet her.

It was a huffing, puffing, frantic fuck. No finesse, just an urgent need to join, to come, to possess.

I drained myself inside Mom, squeezing her tight as if afraid to let her go. We sat like that for a long time. When I finally pulled out, I realized I was late for Dad's tea. I filled the teapot with water and a teabag, then stuck the whole thing in the microwave. He always insisted on hotting the pot with water before putting the bag in, then letting it sit for just so long before serving. I wondered if he could really tell the difference.

It turns out he couldn't. At least, he didn't say anything. I'm not sure why I waited until he took a sip just to see. Maybe I was getting weird too.

When I descended the stairs, I could see that Mom had turned around to watch TV. Her dress was way up, exposing her panties that were still cocked to one side, leaving her slit partially visible. As soon as I saw her the image of her head lying back on the couch, mouth open, waiting for me to slide my cock in, took control. Last time, I promised myself, as I stalked toward her.

The door opening upstairs behind me changed my mind.

Quickly, I sprang forward and yanked Mom's dress down to her knees, twisting around and sitting down just in time for Dad to round the corner on the landing.

"Scott, what did you do with this tea?" Dad sounded upset.

"Nothing, Dad. I made it the same as always."

"Well, it's terrible, just terrible."

I followed him into the kitchen in case he noticed anything different about Mom.

"It's very nice," he said as he filled and plugged in the kettle, "for you to bring me my tea but it's a waste of time if you can't do it right."

"Right, Dad."

"Now watch how it's done."

I suffered a lesson on how to boil water, splash it around to rinse out the the teapot, then fill it and wait exactly eleven minutes before filling a mug. I even had to taste it and acknowledge the difference.

"Can you do it like that?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Good." He returned to his work.

I returned to the living room where Mom's dress was still demurely down to her knees. She didn't look as wanton as she had with part of her pussy showing so I sat down beside her to let the anger and frustration with my father settle down.

I thought about Mom and my guilt for treating her like I had the past week. Maybe she was acting this way because she wanted to be treated like that. What if her listless response was her way of getting off on being treated like a slut without having to admit to herself, or me, that she liked it?

So maybe it was alright to fuck her face and pound on her from behind. I smiled to myself. Life was reclaiming the perfection it had recently attained.

Except, there was a nagging in the back of my mind that my swelling cock couldn't completely drown out ... I wanted my real Mom back.

The rustle of Mom's dress drew my attention to her. Listlessly, I turned to look. She had pulled her legs up, allowing her dress to slide once more to her hips. Her hands grasped her panties and pulled them up to her knees, then over and down her calves. Lifting her feet, Mom slipped her panties off and tossed them into the middle of the room, halfway to the TV.

Could she read my mind? Did a mother know her son so well? I hadn't said a thing or made any move that would indicate I was about to take her again. Yet, here she was, getting ready for me, inviting me to have her. I made a mental note to pick up Mom's panties in case Dad came downstairs, then prepared to swing over and spread Mom's legs but she was faster than me, straddling my thighs instead.

Mom lowered her pelvis right onto my groin and I immediately sensed the raw, damp heat emanating from her bare pussy. She scrunched down and rubbed on my shaft, managing to grip it even through my sweats. I responded instantly, even though I was still in shock by Mom's proactive move. This was great, Mom was back. Having a live woman grinding on my cock was a welcome sensation though I have to admit a fleeting fear flitted through my mind that I had experienced my last deepthroat.

But, hey, this felt great. Mom had leaned forward to rub her tits against my chest and now moved up to push them into my face. She wasn't particularly gentle but I didn't mind. I was about to get fucked. What was to mind?

Mom stood up, her tits sliding up my face and resting momentarily on my head before lifting away completely. Her knees rocked from side to side and I realized she was unzipping the back of her dress. Not a good idea, I thought, in case Dad came down, just leave it on so it could be pulled up if necessary. However, I didn't stop her. I just pulled my sweats down so my cock could spring out, ready for her anticipated descent.

Mom was now sliding her dress up her legs ... to the top of her thighs, then higher, baring her light sprinkle of pubic hair, moist pubic hair I noticed, then up over her hips. The dress was pulled higher, freeing those magnificent tits, and finally over Mom's head and tossed carelessly to the floor. God I hoped Dad didn't come downstairs. There was no way I could grab Mom's clothes and get them on her in time.

Still, I didn't say anything. I just grabbed my cock and waited for that dream to envelop me. Ah, here it comes. Mom's knees pressed against the couch on either side of my head and her body began to sink. She's going to give me a rub job on the way down. I was about to tilt my head back to watch her tits approach when Mom's hands grabbed the sides of my head, thumbs pressing on my forehead, and forced my head back. Her legs opened wide and her cunt mashed against my face.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, yeahhhhhh," Mom groaned, rubbing against my mouth, fucking my face.

"Yeahhhhh, oh goddd, ohhhh, yeahhhhh."

Mom rubbed faster and faster, groaning constantly. She wasn't being gentle at all but I endured it. Was I this rough when I was sliding in and out of her mouth, feeding my cock into her throat? I hadn't thought so but maybe I was. I might have gotten carried away, I know I'd been consumed with lust at the sight and feel of my cock entering her neck.

Jeez, she was really grinding my face now. My hands were on Mom's legs, trying to mute her movements but her churning thighs couldn't be contained. My face was constantly assaulted by a drenched, bucking pussy. A hand had slipped to the top of my head and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling my face up to meet each downward plunge as if each grinding attack wasn't enough on its own.

Mom was grunting wildly now. Her hand slipped to the side again and then each took hold of my ears. Her pelvis stopped grinding so fast but my face was pulled tight, then pushed between her legs as her hands slipped behind my head and shoved my mouth forcibly onto her cunt, twisting and grinding. Suddenly, Mom let loose a low growl and drenched my face with a copious spray of female juice. Gradually, the grinding slowed and became more gentle. Finally, it stopped and Mom stood up. She looked down at me with an unfathomable expression on her face. I thought she was about to apologize for her rough treatment before lowering herself onto my still hard cock but she just turned away and picked up her dress.

Pulling the dress over her head, Mom zipped up the back, smoothed the skirt over her thighs, then picked up her panties and returned to stand over me again, a foot on the outside of each knee. She dropped her panties onto my face.

"Clean yourself up while I make your father's tea the way it's supposed to be done," she said.

When I pulled the panties off my face, Mom was out of sight. I could hear her putting water in the kettle. I started drying my face with her panties. I sat there and reviewed what had just happened. I was glad she wasn't listless anymore. At least I think I was. No, I was. Having your way with a rag doll was far cry from being with a real woman, but this unpredictable woman was a real tiger and I wasn't sure I was up for it, especially if this was just the start.

Mom emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with a pot of tea, a mug, and a plate full of crackers and cheese. She didn't even glance my way. Ten minutes later, she slowly descended the stairs and strolled casually toward me.

"Don't you think you better cover yourself?" she said, looking down at my still uncovered, half hard cock. "I don't think your father would approve of that little show," she added in a mocking tone.

I pulled my sweats up, a sinking feeling spreading through me as I realized that Mom was done for the night. She sank to her knees, straddling my legs, and reached down to grasp my cock through the sweats.

"What did you do that for?" she asked huskily, kneading my tip and twisting the head before slipping down the shaft, then slowly jacking it up and down.

"You told me to," I complained.

"No I didn't," Mom countered.

"Yes, you did," I whined.

"I asked you if you thought you should cover up," she corrected.

Her hand slipped lower to cup my balls. I pushed my sweats back down and Mom's hand flipped over the waistband and cupped my bare balls. My cock rocketed to full mast. Mom walked her knees ahead, bringing her pussy closer. Her free hand dropped onto the top of my head, fingers curling to grip my hair.


"Your being a very bad boy, Scott. What would your father do if he saw you offering your meat to your mother?"

"He'd kill me," I croaked.

"That's right," Mom replied. "He's sitting right upstairs, eating crackers and drinking tea while his naughty son is trying to get his hard cock between his wife's legs. You are, aren't you?" she asked, wobbling her hips and bringing her pussy close enough to touch the underside of my shaft.

"Yes," I gasped. "I am. I want to get between your legs."

Mom rubbed her pussy up and down my shaft, teasing me with the slippery feel of her pubic lips.

"Do you like that, baby?"

"Yes. Oh, yes," I cried, thrusting against her pussy, trying to get my cockhead inside her slit.

"You want to get inside me, don't you?"

"Yes. God, yes." I was rubbing frantically now.

"Alright, baby. I'm going to ask you for a favor tomorrow. Will you promise to do it for me?"

"Yes. Anything. ... What favor?"

"Anything I want."

"Ok, anything."

"Done," Mom cried.

She liftied her hips, hovered agonizingly over my cock, then sank, lowering to let my cockhead split her lips, pausing to let her juice run over me, then enveloping my purple helmet and gradually sliding down until her pubes pressed into my own hair. She squeezed, then let go, and squeezed again. Twisting this way and that, Mom teased me, "Do you like this? Do you like it like that?" and so on.

Eventually, Mom began pumping up and down on my cock. She reached back to undo her dress and slipped it from her shoulders. I raised my hands to caress her tits and she put hers on mine and guided one to my mouth.

"Suck them. And keep sucking. Don't stop."

I sucked gladly. Mom fucked me. She was in no hurry. She sped up and slowed down, sometimes stopping completely, then grinding around before starting again. After a long time, she pulled her tit out of my mouth and nestled into my chest and starting bucking on my cock. I responded by thrusting long and hard, lifting my ass right off the floor. Faster and faster. Mom put her head beside mine on the couch, gasping and groaning, grunting with the effort of riding me. Her mouth turned to my ear.

"Fuck your mother, Scott," she whispered. "Fuck your mom."

"Come on," she urged. "Do it. Fuck me!"

My cock erupted, gushing, flooding, filling her so much I could feel it squeezing past my root, wetting my groin and thighs. My hips had stopped, almost. They jerked spasmodically, reacting to the twitches inside Mom's cunt. She was kissing my ear, her tongue flicking inside, then her lips sucking. She lifted her head and moved in front of me, her lips seeking mine, her tongue filling my mouth.

Mom pulled away and straightened up. She pulled her dress up, fitting her breasts inside, and reached around to zip it up. As she walked slowly away, her hips swaying in a slightly exaggerated fashion. I watched every nuance of her shifting dress all the way up the stairs and didn't look away until I heard her bedroom close.

I got up and went to Dad's room.

"Finished your tea?" I asked, poking my head in his door.

"What? ... oh yes. Has your mother gone to bed?"

"Yes. She said she was tired. Would you like some more, Dad?"

"Oh. Yes that would be nice."

I walked to Dad's desk and picked up the tray with the empty plate and the teapot. I was acutely conscious of Mom's fluids still drying on my cock and balls and wondered if their odor could be detected outside my sweats. I took the tray downstairs but didn't bother making another pot of tea for Dad. Instead, I went to bed. I didn't clean myself up. I just lay in my bed, covers off, and fell asleep smothered in Mom's aroma. The last waking moment I remember, my cock was stiff and pointed straight at the ceiling.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dad was reviewing some papers as he drank his morning coffee. I took my empty bowl and picked his up to put in the sink as Mom mentioned that I was going to take her for a ride in my jeep because it was such a beautiful, sunny day. Now, Mom had never been in my jeep and didn't even like it so I was flabergasted by her announcement and actually stopped in mid-stride.

"That so?" Dad said, not looking up. "Well, you better drive safely, Scott, with your mother along."

Mom moved to walk past me but then stopped beside me. Her hand dropped in front of me and cupped my balls through my jeans, pressing the palm of her hand against my stiffening cock.

"Oh, I think he'll take care of me, Gordon. Won't you, Scott?"

I didn't answer. I was concentrating on not dropping the dishes. Mom moved past me, her hand dragging reluctantly along, sliding off my crotch. I could hardly wait to get Mom out of the house after that.

She made me take the top off and climbed in, looking very sporty with her hair tied back with a scrunchie. We pulled away from the driveway.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Just drive north, out of town."

I drove for almost an hour, taking two scenic detours along the ocean. We passed through the first town north of us and then the next. We were almost to the third little town when Mom directed me down a small side road.

"Here," she said, pointing into a parking area to the side.

"Here?" I asked.

"Here," she confirmed.

Bungy jumping. She had to be kidding.

Nope. She wasn't.

We went in. There were very few people there this early in the day. I was sure Mom would back out when she saw how high the drop was. I had thought about trying this and I had always chickened out.

"How much?" Mom said.

"The guy at the counter waved over his shoulder at the price list on the board behind him.

"I thought it was free for couples that jumped in the nude," Mom said.

I was blown away. So was the guy. I'm sure he thought we were mother and son but when Mom said that, he seemed confused, obviously reassessing our status by Mom's use of the word 'couples'.

"That's right," he said. "Sorry, but we've just opened for the season and we haven't had any nudes yet."

"No problem," Mom replied.

Ten minutes later, we were standing on a platform, naked except for the rigging tying our feet together. We were face to face, instructed to keep our heads together and hug each other tightly. I couldn't help getting an erection, more proof, I suppose, for the guy that we really were a couple. I let my hands stray over Mom's naked butt. The guy smiled and pushed us sideways off the platform.

We were gone, falling, falling, ... man, what a rush. I closed my eyes. Boing! Flying up. Eyes open, looking into Mom's wild ones as we bounced way up, then down and snapped up again. It was an incredible rush. Mom was screaming, then kissing me, then whooping again.

"Come back anytime," the guy said as we left, eyeing Mom's body with a new appreciation.

We stopped at the shop and purchased the movie they had made of our jump.

"I'm hungry," Mom said.

We drove homeward, retracing our steps, and chose a funky cafe on the first oceanside detour. There were only a few people there and they had left by the time our sandwiches arrived.

"You two look like you've had some fun today," the matronly waitress remarked, setting our order down.

"We've just been bungy jumping," I said, proudly.

"Bungy jumping? My god, I could never do that," the waitress said.

Mom laughed. "My son and I did it in the nude. I don't think we can show the movie they sell you to my husband."

I shot Mom a disapproving look but she just laughed harder. She must have been still be giddy from the jump.

The waitress said, "Wow, that's cool, doing something wild like that with your mother." She left us to eat our sandwiches but was back in a minute to top up Mom's coffee even though it was still more than half full.

"Would you and your son like to eat in our special viewing room?" The waitress looked meaningfully at Mom but stopped pouring coffee at just the right moment though she never looked at the cup.

"Special viewing room?" Mom asked, intrigued.

"Yes. Would you like to see?"

"Sure," Mom replied.

We got up with our sandwiches. The waitress picked up Mom's coffee but I had to carry my own juice. We followed her through a door into a small hallway and then through another door. There was a large, round bubble window facing directly over the water. It was tinted but I could clearly see the nearby dock and a boat slowly leaving the marina. A small bed was nestled next to the window, covered in a plush red comforter. There were no chairs. The waitress set Mom's coffee down on the small table at the head of the bed and turned back to the doorway.

"You can see out but nobody can see in," she said. "Take your time. There's no rush."

She looked at Mom again, engaging her with a steady gaze of apparent mutual understanding. "My son and I used to stay in here for hours after closing before we went home ... watching the boats go by."

She left, making a big production of locking the door from the inside and pulling it firmly shut behind her. Mom sat on the bed and started eating her sandwich.

"Mom, this is weird. I'm not very comfortable with this."

"Oh, Scott," Mom replied, kicking off her sandals and pushing back on the bed, resting her back against the wall. "Relax and live a little. You've got to learn to take things as they come. Go with the flow," she laughed.

I stood, looking out the window, sipping my juice and nibbling my sandwich. Mom finished hers and put the crust on her plate. She never ate her crusts. She leaned forward on the bed and reached behind to unzip her dress.

"Mom," I cried, as she pulled it down from her shoulders, pushed it over her lifted hips, and slid it down her legs and off her feet. "Are you crazy?"

Mom twisted and stretched out on the bed, now wearing only a brief pair of panties.

"Do you really think she let us use this room just to eat our sandwiches?" Mom laughed.

"But we can't ... it's a strange place, and she's right out there."

"Suit yourself."

Mom hooked her thumbs into her panties and, lifting her ass, pulled them up her thighs, over her knees to her feet and off. Planting her feet firmly on the bed, she opened her legs and smiled at me, trailing her hand over her breasts and down, settling between her legs. She lifted her hips, making love to her hand.

I was frozen in place, watching her caress her pussy. Her face wore a wicked smile. She scrunched lower in the pillow and lifted her feet, pulling her knees back to her chest and stretching her legs out until her toes hit the wall behind her. The soft arc of the back of her thighs was a wonder to see. Bending her knees, Mom's feet returned until her heels bumped against her thighs. She let her ankles bounce up and down a few times, curling her feet with her toes scrunched in tight. Her hands appeared beside her hips on the bed and slid up until they rested on the back of her thighs. Slowly, then traveled up toward her knees, pulling her legs apart as the went.

"Don't you want to make love to me?" she purred.

That did it. The remains of my sandwich were tossed toward the plate and my clothes were torn off. Mom chuckled at my urgency but stopped when she saw the size of my erection.

"Oh, my. That bungy stuff really makes you excited, doesn't it?" She was silent for a moment, eyeing my wobbling boner. "Hurry," she croaked.

I clambered on top and Mom welcomed me between her widely spread legs, pulling her knees even farther back and then locking them behind me so she could rest her feet in the small of my back. I slid deep inside her.

"Do me really well, baby. This place is special for people like us."

I grunted my concurrence.

"Do me, baby," Mom whispered.

I did my level best. We moved slowly after my first exhuberance, then quickly, and slowly again. We strained to get closer and closer, sweating in the effort, but I could never get as close to Mom as I wanted. I have never kissed a woman so intensely before or since. Drenched in sweat, we finally came and cuddled, gazing out at the harbor and the boats gliding serenely by. Little touches and smooches started everything anew. I worked my way down to Mom's breasts, lingered there for awhile, then kissed my way over her tummy and between her legs.

"Ohhhhhhh, yes, that feels good," Mom moaned.

My apprehensions about the noise disappeared when Mom's hands lowered to guide my head and her legs closed around my ears to help keep me in place. Her muffled sounds were no longer of any concern. The woman I licked for the next half hour was certainly not the despondent creature I had used for the past week. This woman was not shy about placing my mouth exactly where she wanted it and I had no illusions that I could leave that musky place until I had done my job, and done it right. I learned to appreciate and adopt the skill Mom had shown in breathing through her nose, a strange technical observation to under the circumstances.

Mom pulled me up when her orgasm had subsided and her hips stopped churning. She showered me with little kisses and murmurs of appreciation but when I tried to nudge my swollen cock inside her she shook her head. Her hands urged me higher so I slid my cock onto her tummy. I understood. We should be getting out of this place. I tried to will my erection down and sent a futile message trying to calm my animal brain, promising fabulous rewards in the future. The message was ignored; my hardon refused to subside.

Mom's hands on my elbows urged me higher. I slid up, lifting myself to clear her chest, then lowering so my cock could land between her tits. Ah, yes, that would do, would be wonderful in fact. I rubbed the underside of my shaft on Mom's chest to show I understood.

But no. Mom's hands still pushed up on my elbows, urging me higher. I lifted myself again and climbed yet higher, my cock dragging across Mom's solar plexus until it got trapped in the hollow of her neck under her chin. I pulled way up to dislodge it but it was captured as soon as it was free — by Mom's mouth.

Mom tipped her head up from the bed, swallowing half of my eager cock. Quickly, she drew back and jerked back up again, bouncing u and down bba dozen times, then sank back in the pillow and stayed still. After the briefest pause, I started to slowly fuck Mom's mouth, cheered on my the gentle urging of Mom's hands on my ass. I moved cautiously, not wanting to offend this newly responsive woman but she was even more accepting than the listless one she had replaced. In fact, she seemed eager for more and more. I didn't try to push into Mom's throat but she urged me further and further until I was pulled inside anyway. Shortly after that, I came. The whole thing was just too exquisite to bear and I was no longer inclined to hold back anyway. Surprisingly, Mom took it all with just the tiniest spillage.

It had been almost two hours by the time we re-entered the cafe, now busy with its early dinner crowd. Mom sought out the older waitress and thanked her profusely. She only smiled and told us to come back anytime, that our private 'table' was always there for us. We drove home, to my father, who wondered where his dinner was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day was Sunday and Mom woke me up early, not even waiting for me to come donwstairs.

"Get up, I want you to take me out again."

"Can't I sleep in for a bit?"

"No. We have to get going. We've a long drive."

"To where?" I mumbled, trying to roll over, covering my head with the pillow.

"It's a surprise. Come on. I've made some snacks for the trip. We can eat on the road. Come on, sleepyhead, before your Dad gets up."

Mom pulled my pillow away and I looked at my clock. It wasn't even six yet. What the hell?

Mom was tugging me off the bed, yanking on my hands. She laughed when I tumbled onto the floor and rolled over, my morning hardon tenting my shorts. She bent over, reached into my shorts, and grabbed my cock, pulling me up.

"Come on," she said.

I was surprisingly easy to lift.

"I always wondered if that was true?"

"What?" I asked, shaking the sleep off.

"If you have them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow," Mom giggled.

I managed to get a t-shirt and jeans on. Mom was pushing me into the hall while I was still zipping up. Downstairs, she threw me a wind-breaker and handed me a pair of sandals. I followed her outside, barefoot. She was already at my jeep which had a picnic basket and blankets and stuff already in the back. Mom got in the driver's side.

"I'll drive until you wake up," she said.

I climbed in and Mom let the Jeep roll down the driveway onto the street, then started it up and we were gone. I didn't even know she could drive a standard but she drove it as if she did it every day. I watched her as she drove. I had met a whole new person over the last few weeks. There was so much I hadn't known about this person I took for granted and I wanted to know more, everything I could. A couple of miles down the road, we stopped and picked up a couple of coffees.

"Put some music on," she said, running inside.

Back on the road, we sped away, music blaring.

"Where are we going," I yelled over the wind and the din.

"Surfing," she yelled back.

"That's four hours away."

"I know."

"I didn't know you knew how to surf."

"I don't. You're going to teach me."

We stopped to eat from our picnic basket by the ocean on the way, sitting on logs, enjoying the scenery and the people passing by, without a worry in the world. Mom drove the whole way. She was really enjoying herself.

Surfing was a gas. We rented wet suits and boards for the day. We only rested once for the four hours were were there. Mom managed to stay up for about ten seconds only a half dozen times but she loved it. I had never seen her laugh so much. Before starting the drive back, we went to a funky little cafe to get something to eat.

I drove on the way back. Mom stuffed a bunch of stuff between the seats and tried to lay down with her head on my lap. It couldn't have been comfortable, and wasn't exactly safe, but she stayed like that most of the way home. She must have been exhausted. I drove extra carefully.

Dad was furious when we got home but Mom paid him no mind. He shifted his anger to me and I silently bore his assault.

I slept in the next morning. The sun shining brightly through my window woke me. Ah, what a great looking day. Suddenly, I realized it was Monday and I leapt out of bed. I was late for work!

I scrambled into my jeans and rushed down the hall, still pulling them up, hobbling down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the table, calming drinking her morning coffee.

"Mom, why didn't you wake me up? I'm really late." I opened the fridge, searching for something to eat, grabbed a handful of sliced cheese and a jug of juice, and turned back to face Mom.

"Why aren't you at work?" I asked, sensing that something was wrong.

"I'm not going to work anymore," she answered.

"What? You quit?" I was shocked. Mom didn't work for the money, she worked to give herself something to do.

Mom got up, took the sliced cheese out of my hand, and threw it in the garbage.

"Don't eat that crap. I'll make you a proper breakfast."

"Mom, I have to go. I'm late."

"There's time," she replied, getting some eggs out of the fridge.

"Mom," I complained, exasperated.

"I want you to give me a ride somewhere," she said, getting a frying pan out of the cupboard and putting it on the stove. She popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster but didn't push them down, turning instead to start the eggs. "Why don't you get yourself a coffee and sit down," she said.

I sat down without the coffee.

"What's this all about?" I asked.

"I'm leaving," she stated calmly.

"You're leaving home? You're leaving us?"

"Not you. Just your father." Mom cracked the egss and they began to sizzle in the frying pan.

"But, where are you going?"

"You'll see. I want you to take me there." Mom walked over to the toaster and pushed the bread down.

"There?" I asked, not quite following.

"The commune."

"The commune?"

"Yes. It's only about a day's drive away. I've already put my things in your jeep. I'm leaving my car here. I don't want it."

"Mom. Are you sure?"

"Yes. My mind's made up. Pour yourself some juice." The toast popped up and Mom buttered it, then swung over to the stove and dropped two eggs on top. She placed the plate in front of me. "Pour your juice," she reminded me. I was still taken aback, trying to put it all together in my head. "Nevermind," Mom said, "I'll do it." She got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with the juice I'd taken out of the fridge.

"Mom this is crazy. Why don't you think about it for a couple of days."

"I'm not doing that anymore. It's not right for me, it never was. I'm leaving whether you take me or not."

"I'll take you. Of course, I'll take you." I was feeling more rattled all the time.

"Thank you. Now calm down and eat your breakfast. You'll give yourself an upset stomach. Everything will be fine."

Mom sat down and began sipping her coffee again, watching me and smiling reassuredly. When I was finished, she told me to pack an overnight bag while she washed up the breakfast dishes. When we got into the jeep I found my backpack in the back with a couple of Mom's suitcases.

"I thought you might want to stay a little longer," Mom explained. "Surfing must have worn you out. You were dead to the world this morning when I packed it up."

It was a long day's drive. We finally arrived about nine that night. The 'commune' was a large, prosperous farm with several houses and outbuildings, all white and impeccably maintained. We were welcomed into one of the larger houses. It seems we were already expected. Jena and Jenny and a host of others came outside onto the large porch and then down to the driveway when our lights approached the house. People milled about us, well, Mom really, hugging and kissing. Eventually we made our way into the house.

I couldn't stop looking at one of the older men who stood near Jena a lot. He looked very familar, kind of like Jenny.

Mom noticed me watching him and leaned close. "Donny, your father," she whispered.

Mom and I were put up in one of the empty bedrooms in the big house. Mom offered no further explanations about Donny and I didn't ask. He was a nice guy and seemed pleased to see me though he didn't give any hint that he knew of a special connection with me. Jenny was very pleased to see me. I stayed.

By the end of the week, Jenny and I were known to be an item and seemed to be a point of discussion. Mom talked to Dad, briefly informing him that she had left him, followed up by assurances that he could do whatever he wanted with the house and all that; she wasn't interested, she said. Mom handed me the phone and I told Dad I didn't know when I'd be back. He told me if I wasn't there in a week, not to come back. I hung up.

I moved in with Jenny that night. Mom stayed in the room we had been provided the first night but after a month she was in the habit of visiting Donny and Jena's room a couple of nights a week. When it became known that I was a writer and was skilled with the internet, I was put in charge of producing the farm's (they didn't call it a commune) newsletter which was shared with a number of similar organizations around the country. I created a facebook page for all the farms to join and soon the communication between them increased a hundredfold. Everyone was thrilled.

The only sad part of my new life was the end of my sex life with Mom. Mom, Jena and Donny clearly had a special connection which was quite apparent to all, not just the half dozen or so old timers that had been there just as long. Jenny and I shared the same thing. Nobody, Jenny assured me, had any idea that we were half brother and sister and cautioned me not to let on. It seems I had replaced one incestuous relationship with another, more distant one. C'est la vie.

One day, Jenny told me that they were all going to a big get-together involving several farms. Mom wasn't going, she explained because, as Jena had told her, she wasn't ready yet to be re-introduced to the general community which contained many more old friends. Jenny was keen to introduce me but I declined, saying I wanted to stay behind with Mom and that anyway, being introduced was an experience I wanted to share with Mom. Jenny understood.

Mom and I had the big house, and most of the farm, actually, to ourselves for three days. We took the time to explore the place, walking mostly but also riding horses and driving around on the backroads that permeated the farther reaches of the farm.

On the the second night alone we were sitting on the two, large couches in the living room of the big house, just the two of us. The conversation turned to Mom's current situation.

Out of the blue, Mom mentioned Donny and remarked, "He's not nearly as exciting as he used to be. In fact, in many ways, he reminds me of Gordon."

"Mom. You've got to be kidding. Donny," or Don as everyone but Mom and Jena called him, "may be older but he's no Gordon."

It felt funny referring to Dad by his first name but the past few weeks here I had become comfortable with the fact that Don was my true flesh and blood.

"I know what you're saying, son, but you'd be surprised. In many ways, he is like Gordon. Maybe you guys," Mom laughed, "all get the same way when you get older."

"Like what, for instance?" I pressed.

"Like getting grumpy."

"Don's not grumpy," I countered.

"Well, he's not exactly the laid back, fun, how do you say it, 'dude' I once knew."

"Well, ok. But that doesn't make him like Dad."

"Maybe so, but I know one way he's exactly like Dad, and, looking back, he always was."

"Yeah. How?" I had no idea why I felt so strongly about defending Donny. Maybe it was because he was my father.

Mom was sitting on the big overstuffed couch, facing me, her back buried into the corner. I was sitting in the same position at the far end of another couch at right angles to hers. She smiled. A very amused, very pleased with herself, smile. She scooted her hips forward as if to lie down but then turned over onto her stomach. Laying her head down on the cushion, her face broke out into a big smile. Her hands reached down to her sides and she started pulling her dress up, using her fingers to scrunch it up in a ball. My eyes locked onto her hands. Little by little, inch by inch, Mom drew the dress up until it was stretched tightly across the back of her thighs at the base of her buttocks. With a quick flip, she pulled the hem over her bottom and above her hips, revealing a bare, pantiless ass.

"He's afraid to try anything new," Mom's husky voice floated across the room, washing over my face, as her hands slid up onto her cheeks and pulled them apart. "Are you afraid?"

She held them there, smiling. Understanding was slow to seep into my brain but eventually the invitation began to seem real and I stood. It felt like I was moving in slow motion through a thick, clear fluid. I wanted to move faster, but I couldn't.

I was surprised to see my t-shirt fly off to my right. I wasn't even aware I'd taken it off. I stumbled forward in slow motion but managed to catch myself, pulling my right foot out of my jeans. Mom's smile was huge now. She was laughing out loud, I could hear the sound but barely recognized it because it was so slow. I stumbled to a stop, dragged my left foot out of my other pantleg, then pushed my shorts down, painfully catching them on the huge boner that had instantly sprung from my groin. I must have set a world erection record.

I fell on the couch, knees straddling Mom's thighs, looking down at Mom's bare ass and the partly open pussy slit between her legs. My eyes moved up to the dark little hole above, barely open, and then only because Mom continued to hold her cheeks apart. I knew what she meant by 'new'. No wonder my cock was harder than it had ever been before.

I leaned forward, dipping my cock head toward that unknown heaven but Mom's voice stopped me, suddenly ringing true in real time.

"Make it wet first," she cautioned.

I paused, as if unsure about how to proceed.

"Spit on it, like you did before, you little brat," Mom laughed throatily. "But if you want to do both, do the regular one first. No going back and forth."

Mom lifted her hips and I pushed my cock between her tight thighs, into her slit, shoving inside. She was surprisingly wet though she hadn't looked horny. She must have been thinking about this for awhile, and it had gotten to her. She moaned as soon as I began prying my way through her tunnel. She definitely wanted it and I was thrilled to know she had missed me.

As if reading my mind, Mom husked, "Ohhhhh, baby, I missed you so much."

I started pumping Mom, slowly because I wanted to last. At least that was my intention but within a few minutes I was pulling her hair, gently tugging her head up, and that just made my hips take on a life of their own. Soon, I was rattling her behind the way I had on our living room floor while Dad was upstairs, working. I laughed out loud. What did he know about life. Sitting at a desk upstairs working, on his own time, while I fucked his woman downstairs.

I really began pummeling Mom now. I let her head fall forward and she bent her arms so she could use her hands to brace against my onslaught while I wrapped mine around her slender waist, holding her bottom in place under my assault. We were both moaning and grunting but I could still hear the sound of my cock moving rapidly in and out of her cunt. I used one hand to grasp her shouler and increased my frenetic pace.

"Ahhhhhhh, godddd, yeahhhhh," I cried, unloosing weeks of pent-up mother cum. There was nothing like this, not even my half-sister could make me feel like this, and still the best was yet to come.

As soon as Mom stopped reacting to my convulsions, before I completely recaptured my breath, I slid my hands down to her ass and spread her cheeks. I leaned close and spit on her little bud, then spread it around with my thumb. Several more times I spit, rubbing it slowly around, before I ventured to poke my longest finger into that sweet asterisk. Just the fingertip but Mom's moan of pleasure would have made you think I had shoved my whole cock in. She was filled to the brim with anticipation.

I spit on her hole and worked my fingertip in and out, only pushing further when it became easy. I was surprised when I pushed my long finger inside and seemed to burst through an inner doorway. In very short order I was moving my finger easily in and out, trading off to insert my thumb, which I pushed in firmly, trying to widen her hole with the thicker part near the join to my hand.

"Enough," Mom cried.

I stopped immediately, disappointed. I was just getting geared up for this new experience. I pulled my finger out.

"I need something bigge. I need you now," Mom hissed, lifting her ass up, moving it in a tiny circle.

My cock recognized the invitation and moved, seemingly of its own accord, unerringly toward that beckoning cave. I inserted my tip and Mom instantly groaned with pleasure.

"Yes, oh, yesss," she hissed.

I pushed gently forward, widening that tight orifice. It was very tight and strenuously resisted my cock but I kept a firm, steady pressure until it suddenly yielded, leaving the field in full retreat.

"Ohhhhhhh, godddd, owwww, ohhhhh, godddd," Mom yowled.

"Are you alright?" I cried, leaning over, watching her face intensely, trying to make sense of her tightly screwed up face.

"Don't stop," Mom cried. "Keep moving!"

I kept pressing my cock in and Mom continued her confusing moans. I kept shoving until the soft skin of Mom's ass was pressing against the inner skin of my thighs beside my balls. My cock was fully plugged into Mom's ass.

"That's it, baby. Fuck me there. Fuck my ass."

I started moving.

"Slowly," Mom cried. "Go slowly."

I moved cautiously out just a little, then pushed back in. Mom moaned, in pleasure, I think. Out and back in. Another moan. More in and outs, more moaning. I struck a rhythm and Mom seemed to enjoy the song I played more and more. This was just like fucking her from behind on the floor, only way better. Soon I was stroking all the way in and out, changing up my speed, even pausing when fully in, then grinding around in a circle. Mom really seemed to like that but when I pulled all the way out, and then waited a few seconds before plunging back in, Mom went wild.

The sounds coming from her throat were truly primeval. Each time I pulled all the way out, she tried to hump up to recapture my cock. Eventually, she was up on her knees and I had to get up on my feet to escape her clutching orifice. But only briefly, for I couldn't stand to be outside either. Squatting over Mom's ass, plunging in and out, I created my own grunting lyrics until I pushed her flat on the couch and shoved in deep for a mutual, quivering orgasm.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

From then on, Mom and I managed to find ways to be alone. We went riding in the forest or left the farm on various excursions. There was no need to make excuses; everyone undertood that a mother and son liked to be alone from time to time. Nobody discovered the truth.

Mom changed her appearance. She cut her long hair short and wore it in a cute, busy fan that spread out from her head. She looked less like an older hippy throwback and more like a confident woman, fresh and in tune with nature and the people around her. Often, when we were alone, Mom would wait for me in the living room, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch, stark naked, her full tits sitting upon her chest, nipples poking proudly up, a languid smile on her face, waiting for me to join her at the start of another trip down our own memory lane. That picture of her, naked, leaning back on her elbows, beckoning me with that secret smile, is emblazoned in my brain.

Not that my sex life with Jenny wasn't rewarding; she just made love differently than Mom. For example, when she sucked me she would only allow me to put head of my cock in her mouth and then only after teasing it mercilessly on the underside with the tip of her tongue. I took retribution by licking around and around her pubes before dipping just the tip of my own tongue in her slit, never plunging in all the way, and teased the shit out of her by flicking her clit as lightly as I could until she came. All in all, life was very full.

Strangely, we received a long letter from Dad. He had moved on with his life, quit his job and met someone new. There was a huge bank draft in the envelope. Dad had sold the house and liquidated most of his assets and split it down the middle, over his lawyer's loud objections. He had bought a sailboat, he explained, and was off on his own adventures. He hoped to see Mom in a year or two, and me of course. He wished us the very best. It was best too, I thought, that he never knew the truth about Mom and I, but in reality, if nothing had happened between us, Dad wouldn't be on a sailboat with his new partner. Such is life.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It's been about a year since I committed this story to paper. I thought you might be interested in recent developments at the farm.

Jena was diagnosed with an extremely aggressive form of breast cancer and passed away several months ago. Donny left the house to stay in one of the other homes housing only men. He and Mom didn't gel in Jena's absence and, in truth, they had never fully renewed their ties. Donny couldn't stay in the house because there were too many memories of Jena. Despite his earlier involvement, many years ago, with multiple women, Jena really was his true love and he seemed lost without her. He only lasted six weeks in the other home before he decided he needed to get away from the farm. Coincidentally, his solution was to hop in the farm's sailboat, a 40 foot classic ketch (I hadn't realized there was one) with everyone's blessing. Jenny and I, and Mom, were left in sole possession of the big house. Jenny and I moved into the big bedroom that had formerly been occupied by Donny and Jena.

Jenny became pregnant. There is no doubt whose child it is, she hasn't been with anyone but me since I arrived. Daughters really need their mother, especially when having their first child. Although Mom hadn't been around most of Jenny's life, Jenny had heard about her since she was little and knew there was a special bond between Mom and Jena. In Jena's absence, Mom became Jenny's surrogate mother.

Bjorn (Borg had been an idol Mom and Jena shared) was born a couple of months ago, just before Donny left. Perhaps it was the birth of his first grandson that prompted Donny to renew his search for adventure, his youth, or to realize his bucket list had not been realized. I don't know. Anyway, one evening, I had just put on a huge fire and Mom and I were sitting around on the floor in front of the couch like we had those fateful evenings at home. Jenny came in from feeding the baby and putting him down for the night. Mom moved over and patted the rug between us and Jenny squeezed in, pulling her dress up to enjoy the heat of the fire.

"Whew," she sighed. "What a great fire."

As usual, little Bjorn hadn't been up to the task of emptying Jenny's modest breasts and they were still swollen with milk. Jenny's dress, which she had forgotten to rebutton, was open to her navel. As my eyes traveled over her breasts, I noticed a residue of milk on the breast Bjorn had last suckled and a drop forming on the nipple of the other. I reached over and wiped the residue from the closest breast. Surprised, Jenny started to close her dress.

"Oh, sorry," she cried. "I forgot."

But before she could close the dress Mom's hand cupped the bottom of the other breast and her finger swooped up, capturing the drop of milk, now fully formed and in danger of dripping off Jenny's tit. Mom brought her finger to her mouth and sucked the milk from her fingers.

"Mmmmmm," she crowed, "that kid is a wasteful little monkey."

It was my turn to be surprised. Jenny looked positively shocked.

I pulled Jenny's dress apart and cupped the breast I had just cleaned, catching the droplet that had now formed there. Bringing my finger to my lips, I repeated Mom's appreciation.

"Mmmmmm, my son's meal is my dessert."

Mom laughed out loud and I chuckled at my own joke.

Jenny, however, didn't laugh. Regarding her breast with a strange expression, she scooped up the new droplet forming where Mom had retrieved her treat. Slowly, Jenny turned to Mom and put her milky finger to Mom's lips and, gazing intensely into her eyes, pushed her finger in. Mom's face revolved in a tiny oval as she sucked hard on Jenny's finger, her eyes locked on the younger woman's. Mom's mouth popped when Jenny pulled her finger out, she was sucking it so hard.

I replaced my hand on Jenny's tit, cupping it from below, and waited for another droplet of milk to form. Mom copied my action, cupping the other breast. Jenny looked down at our hands cupping her breasts. She extended her finger onto the nipple of the breast I was holding and bent it over, rushing the formation of the next droplet. Appreciatively, I pulled my finger up and offered it to Jenny, pushing it into her mouth when she parted her lips.

We both turned our eyes to the breast Mom was cupping. She had taken Jenny's nipple between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand and was squeezing it to force a droplet of milk onto the finger held below it. Upon success, Mom raised the finger to Jenny's mouth and pushed it inside. I bent my head, took Jenny's nipple into my mouth, and began to suck. A moment later, I opened my eyes when Mom's hair brushed my head. She was sucking Jenny's other nipple. I felt Jenny's hand cradle my head and saw her other hand doing the same for Mom's. 

Ten minutes went by while Mom and I sucked Jenny's breasts. When we finally pulled away, her nipples were standing up rock hard and Jenny, breathing heavily, was lying with her head back and eyes closed. Mom brushed her palm back and forth, bending Jenny's prominent nipple this way and that. I copied her action. Jenny kept her eyes closed and remained otherwise unresponsive though we had long since passed the boundary for nonsexual behavior.

Mom dipped her head and started licking, then sucking and releasing, Jenny's nipple. Her left hand dropped to Jenny's lap and onto her thigh, pausing briefly before slipping between her legs.

"Have you started making love to her yet?" she whispered to me when I brought my head close to play with Jenny's other nipple.

"No," I whispered back. "I was waiting for her to tell me when she was ready."

Mom's hand moved higher, under Jenny's skirt. Jenny parted her legs and moaned when Mom's fingers contacted her panties.

"She's ready," Mom said.

For several minutes, I watched Mom's hand moving under Jenny's dress. Jenny's breathing became more and more ragged, soon joined by Mom's own quiet panting, and mine. I moved my hand down to join Mom but she elbowed me away.

"Pull her panties down," she instructed.

I reached under Jenny's dress to grab her panties by each hip and dragged them down, pulling Mom's hand away with them. Jenny's eyes fluttered open but quickly closed again when Mom's fingers returned to trace a path up the soft inside of her thighs. I tossed the panties aside and pushed my hand above Jenny's knee to follow Mom up her other thigh. Jenny gasped when Mom's delicate fingers reached her pussy.

"Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmm," she cooed.

I waited in the wings for my turn to play. Jenny was arching her back and writhing against the couch in response to Mom's ministrations, reacting more intensely than when I caressed her the same way. There was no way, I realized, that I could compete with the soft, knowing touch of another woman's hand.

"Come inside," Mom whispered, urging me to push my hand forward. "I'll do the delicate stuff. You go inside. We like it rough too, sometimes."

I pushed up and inserted my fingers into Jenny's pussy, the wettest it had ever felt to me. Jenny gasped.

"That's right, fill her," Mom whispered.

I could feel Mom's hand moving above mine and guessed that her fingers were fluttering over Jenny's clit. I clamped down on Jenny's tit and sucked her nipple hard.

"Ohhhhhh, God," she cried. Whether in response to my action or something Mom was doing, I didn't know.

Mom and I settled in, sucking Jenny's tits and working her pussy, inside and out. Jenny's sighs and moans grew louder and more frequent, and her movements more frantic and erratic, until finally, with an intense heave that dislodged Mom and I from tit and cunt, she came.

Mom barely let Jenny recover. She dragged her by her feet until she was lying flat on the floor, then yanked her dress down her legs and off her feet. Standing, Mom quickly removed her clothes, then crouched over Jenny's sated body. Gently, she laid her larger, mature breasts atop Jenny's swollen, milk-laden tits, aligning her nipples with the younger woman's. She raised her knees and aligned her legs outside Jenny's, pushing her moist pussy down, mashing it against Jenny's own. I heard a growl, but I couldn't tell from which woman.

I stood and watched as the two women worked their pussies together. The were kissing. I hadn't seen when it started but it didin't look like it was going to end any time soon. I began undressing, slowly. Despite the brittle hardness of my erection, I was in no hurry to interrupt this show.

When I was finally naked, I knelt between Jenny's legs, kneeing them far apart. Jenny responded by pulling her knees back as far as Mom's intervening body would allow, tilting her cunt up toward me, mashing it even harder against Mom's. I scrunched forward, trying to get my cock into it but only managed to get the tip inside. I couldn't get any closer. Reaching forward over Mom's back, I dragged a cushion off the couch and pushed the back of Jenny's legs up. Mom lifted her hips to help and I shoved the cushion under Jenny's ass.

Mom immediately recaptured her prey but it was now high enough that I could get my legs under theirs and get closer to my quarry. I pushed, inserted my tip, and then plunged my shaft in as deep as I could, pleased by the satisfied groan my invasion sponsored from Jenny's lips. I started fucking her, struggling to slow my pace, trying to be part of the action without playing a role large enough to change its nature.

After a while the feel of Mom's cunt squishing down on Jenny's and splaying across the top of my cock was too much. I pulled out of Jenny's to a dismayed moan, paused, then slid into Mom's hole. There was a quick cry from Jenny as she realized I wasn't just teasing, that I wan't returning. Mom's groan told her what she already felt. I had slid my shaft inside my mother and was fucking her. If she'd had suspicions before, now she knew.

Somehow, I knew it was now ok to let loose and I began slamming into Mom hard, shoving her pussy lips down hard on Jenny. Everybody was gasping and moaning now and I was grunting with the effort. Fuck this was hot. I thought about switching back and forth but I was too far gone. I couldn't bring myself to pull out of Mom's smoldering hot tunnel. I hunched over Mom's back and started on my final gallop. Slap, slap, slap.

"Unnnnngggghhhhhhh, this is so fucking hot," I cried aloud, stunned that the thought had escaped my head.

"Fuuuuuuckkkk," I cried as I began spewing my load in Mom.

I pushed off Mom's back in time to pull my cock out and splash the next couple of spurts all over Jenny's pussy and the inside of her thighs, then shoved my way back inside her as Mom's ass ground back againt me, seeking her lost pleasure tool.

Exhausted, we lay in a heap. It was a while before we managed to drag ourselves apart. The women went off to have showers and I repaired to the kitchen to make a large pot of tea. I waited and waited but they didn't return even though the night was young. I went upstairs to find out what they were doing, carrying the teapot and three mugs on a tray. The light was on in our room and I headed that way, expecting that Mom was still in the main bathroom since the light was still on under the door and her room was dark.

I passed through the door and discovered why they had been taking so long. My women were making love again, this time with Jenny on top. She turned to look when she heard me put the tray down. As I approached the bed, she slid down Mom's body until her face was in her groin. The first flick of her tongue registered on Mom's face.

"Where on earth have you been?" Mom asked. Jenny mumbled something intelligible, her face buried in Mom's muff.

"Missing out," I answered.

"Clearly," Mom chuckled.

I crawled up behind Jenny and inserted my hardening cock, shoveling it in. Slowly, I began fucking, rocking her mouth back and forth on Mom's pussy. I reached down to grasp Mom's hands and let her take control of my pace, pulling each time she wanted me to shove in. Some time later, Mom pulled her hands away and waved for me to come up beside her. I crawled up to her head and she turned to take me inside her mouth and I gladly slipped my glistening cock into her face.

A minute later, Mom urged my legs over her chest and, shades of our recent past, I was once again riding her face but this time, there was no listless woman lying beneath me. On the contrary, Mom's hands grasped my hips and somewhat controlled the pace and depth of my plunges. It was incredible how she could take my cock right into her throat. I was again marveling at her ability to do this when my mind suddenly emptied itself of that reverie, replaced by the reaction to a new, exquisite sensation.

Jenny was licking my balls and dragging her tongue up my crack. Oh, my fucking God. Half a dozen licks and I superseded Mom's controlling hands, frantically bulging into her throat. When that hot load of lava started shooting up my shaft, I felt Jenny's slippery tongue dart into my forbidden hole. I came so hard I thought the top of my cock would blow right off.

It felt like it did anyway. Mom was pushing wildly at my stomach, trying to dislodge me from her face. I pulled back, my cock popping out of her mouth, followed by a spew of hot, frothy cum. My cock was still spurting, covering Mom's face as she gasped for air.

I paid for that. In the middle of the night, my women woke me from a deep sleep. I was hard. They must have been playing with me for a while before I woke up. Without ceremony, Mom straddled my face and began mashing her pussy on my mouth, squeezing the side of my head with her legs and commanding me to push out my tongue. As soon as I did, Mom's pussy enveloped it and I felt Jenny sliding down my shaft. I felt like a two-hump camel with a rider on my face and another on my cock. When the ride was done, and I lay gasping for breath, I was allowed a brief respite. Then the riders switched humps.

I tried my best to give them a rewarding ride but there was little I coiuld do. They were in control.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mom stayed in her own room after that, but only for show. Usually, we all slept together. Sometimes, Jenny would shoo me away, begging for a good night's sleep. Mom would be waiting for me, one side of her bed opened and beckoning. Other times, Jenny would pull me close, saying that Mom was tired. Though I didn't really feel like it, I sometimes complained that I needed my beauty rest too and begged Mom to let me trade beds for night. I knew my women liked to make love in their own way and sometimes their afternoon episodes, which usually happened a couple of times a week, weren't long enough for the tender lovemaking they specialized in with each other. Sometimes they needed a whole night and part of the next morning.

We were very content, especially Mom.

I had realized one morning, sitting alone in the kitchen with my coffee after a night alone, that Mom had never really been a hippy. She was an adventurer, a fun-seeker, and her funseeking days were over. She had reached her nirvana: Fun sought her. 









