My Summer with Mom
byalwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 years or older.

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"He has to come out of his shell some time."

I heard it all the way from my room, not the top of the stairs or in the hall. I didn't need to hear what my father was saying because I'd heard it all before. Even at my desk on the far side of the room with the door closed I still had to cover my ears because he was yelling so loud. There was a pause in which I knew my mother was leaping to my defense but I couldn't hear her voice let alone what she was saying.

"It's not about the money," my father continued. "It's about getting out in the world. For Christ's sake, he's almost done school. Another year and he'll be out there. What's he going to do then?"

Interested in Mom's answer, I moved closer to the door. I opened it a couple of inches but couldn't hear any better.

"Well, shy or not, he's not sitting on his ass all summer. If he can't get a job he can work around here until he gets the gumption to get something better."

I moved a few steps into the hallway.

"He can dismantle the barn and the old loafing barn out back and those sheds too."

I heard Mom's voice but not what she said. I moved farther down the hall.

"He can pull all the nails and stack the wood. We'll sell it for what we can get and that will pay his wages."

"What are you going to pay him an hour? Ten dollars?"

"Ten bucks? For loafing around here? No way! Five."

"You have to give him more than that."

"It depends on what we get for the wood."

"You want those derelicts taken down anyway so you can pay him for doing it."

"We'll see. You tell him if he doesn't get a job he's got to do that. Do you need anything from town? No? Okay, I'll see you at supper."

"When do you want him to start?"

"Tomorrow. I'll pick up a pry bar and show him what to do tonight unless he gets off his ass decides to look for work."

So at breakfast Mom broke the news and I acted like it was news to me. I took after her. She was slender with fin, light brown hair, wisps of which often broke free from behind her ears and hung around her plain, freckled face. She spoke quietly, in contrast to the booming voice of my brawny father.

"Your father doesn't really want you to do it. He's trying to get you to go into town to find a job, to interact with people."

"I don't like people."

Mom laughed. I never felt awkward around her.

"There must be someone you like."

I shook my head.

"What about Shelley?"

I blushed.

"You used to play with her a lot."

"She's interested in older boys now."

"You're a couple months older than her."

"It's not the same thing."

"Didn't you go on a date with her a few months ago?"

Blush deepening, I took my bowl and spoon to the sink.

"So what is it he wants me to do?"

Mom ignored the question.

"What happened?" she persisted.

"Nothing."

The memory of my awkward attempt at kissing Shelley Hunt flooded my mind. I was such a klutz she actually giggled and her best friend, Shirley Johnson, laughed out loud.

"I doubt it was nothing," Mom spoke more gently.

"What does he want me to do? I should get started."

"He doesn't want you to start until tomorrow."

"I'll start now."

Mom repeated my father's instructions and I went out and started with a hammer and the small crowbar from the garage. I managed to get the casings off the windows and a few of the windows and stacked them neatly in front of the barn, throwing the old, bent nails into a bucket. I didn't stop for a break until lunch. After that I dismantled the doors but it was difficult with just a small crowbar and hammer. By two, I decided to wait for the bigger bar and went into the house.

Mom was watching a movie in the living room which, with the drapes closed, was bathed in a twilight that made it resemble a movie theatre. I got a large glass of milk and returned to the doorway.

"Whatcha watchin?"

"A movie?"

"Chick flick?" I asked, looking at the stack of DVDs she kept in a large bookcase in the corner.

"Nope."

I stepped into the room and turned to look at the TV. It looked like one of the Bourne movies. I backed slowly toward my father's chair, eyes on the screen.

"Don't," Mom warned.

"He's not home."

"He'll know."

She was probably right. She lifted her feet off the coffee table and I sidled across, landing with a thump beside her on the loveseat. The living room was too small to fit a full size couch. We watched in silence until Mom paused the movie just as the good chase scene started.

"Mom!"

"Intermission."

"There's no intermission in this movie."

"Snack break," she replied.

Mom made tea and got some cookies out of the freezer, the large homemade peanut butter ones I loved. They were crumbly but delicious. We returned to watch he movie and I sat closer so I could dunk my cookie in her cup before she could cover it.

"Brat."

She laughed but didn't push me away. I waited until she tired of watching from the corner of her eye. I didn't care much for soggy cookies but it was a game we had played since I was little.

The car chase over, I thought about being stuck at home for the summer. We lived on twenty acres so there wasn't anybody close by, except Shelley and she would be working at the cafe in town for the summer. I didn't mind being around people, I just didn't like talking to them because I wasn't good at chit chat. I would get bored working at home and knew my father was counting on it. I hated to give him the satisfaction.

I looked at the mug of tea resting against Mom's legs about halfway down from her knees. The hem of her dress had been pushed down so the bottom of the mug could rest on bare leg to remove any danger of a tea stain. Mom's thighs were slightly parted to form a wedge for the mug. When she lifted it to sip her tea, I noticed that the hem was sufficiently high to show the initial widening of her thighs. I had never seen that part of Mom's legs and it caused an odd feeling in me. She had slender thighs with soft-looking skin unlike the more weathered part from just above her knees down.

Mom's eyes slid sideways, perhaps in anticipation of a sneak dunk, and I jerked mine away. Jesus Christ. What was I thinking? I liked looking at pictures of women, even when dressed, but I had never looked at my mother that way.

The action picked up and Mom's attention returned to the screen. I normally would have watched this part with intense interest but my gaze returned, involuntarily, to Mom's legs. She raised the mug slowly to her lips but didn't sip as the screen held her attention. Her thighs remained parted as the mug hovered in front of her mouth but I was only aware of the widening flesh of her thighs disappearing alluringly into the darkness of the dress.

"Ooohhhh," Mom cried, shivering in reaction to something on the screen.

I was too focused on the quivering flesh of her legs to look at the screen. My loins stirred and, despite my horror, I couldn't divert my gaze. I couldn't remember a more magnificent pair of thighs in all my nightly hours sifting through Web porn. I imagined them opening wider and my hand sinking into the darkness of the dress, scraping against soft flesh, then pushing against increasing resistance as the V closed near the apex, and panties as white as freshly fallen snow.

"Jeremy!"

My head snapped up. Mom laughed and relief swept over me. My hand had strayed down to her legs, cookie in grip, but the mug wasn't there, as I well knew.

"Nice try but the tea is up here."

Mom shook the mug to make her point and laughed again. As if needing to prove my innocent intentions, I redirected my hand and tried to dunk the cookie but she evaded me easily, then relented, swinging the mug my way so I could dunk the cookie.

"Mmmmmm," I murmured, biting into the soggy mess.

Mom looked down and said, "Look what a mess you've made."

Her lap was full of cookie crumbs. She started picking them up with her free hand. I bit on the cookie to hold it in my mouth and put my hand near hers, palm up, so she could deposit the crumbs. It was awkward for her left hand with mine coming in from the same direction so I pushed hers out of the way and began picking up the crumbs myself.

It was almost a minute before I realized what I was doing. My fingers were scraping across Mom's skirt right were I had imagined my hand reaching. To be sure, there was a curtain of dress material between them and her panties, but I could feel the soft, yielding flesh underneath and it was making me hard. I blushed and was thankful for the semi-darkness.

I didn't mean to extend the crumb retrieval on purpose. Awareness of what I was doing made me fumble the crumbs, or perhaps the ones left were smaller and harder to pick up. At any rate, it took me a while to get all of them. Mom waited patiently, holding the mug near her right cheek and looking down with idle curiosity instead of watching the movie.

When I was finished she said, "Try not to spill any more."

"I won't," I replied and dumped the retrieved crumbs into my mouth.

A few minutes later I tried to dunk my cookie again and purposely pinched it, sending a cascade of crumbs tumbling into Mom's lap. She lifted the mug up to the side of her face to make room for my cleanup operation. This time, she watched the movie and the cleanup took longer. I managed another spill before my cookie was done and was disappointed when the movie ended.

"Do you always watch a movie in the afternoon?" I asked.

"Most days," she answered.

"Do you mind if I join you again?"

"Of course not. It's nice to spend time together."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"But don't mention it to your father."

I blushed and the skin around my face tightened, thinking she was aware of my awful thoughts.

"He'll want you to spend all day taking the barn apart."

"Oh yeah." I nodded.

"But you don't have to." Mom winked.

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Dad was pleased that I had started on my own and approved of the way I had separated and stacked the boards. For the rest of the week I worked on the barn in the mornings and for an hour after lunch. Then, Mom and I retired to the living room, drapes closed, to watch a movie. The action movies gave way to mysteries and love stories but I didn't mind. There were always cookies and I always managed to spill crumbs.

I always sat close to Mom but she never seemed to notice let alone complain. By the end of the week I was sitting so close our thighs rubbed. The movie on Friday was a real tear jerker and Mom cried so I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to me.

The following week, I started putting my arm around her regardless of the type of movie and we chatted during the duller parts. I opened up about Shelley and the catastrophe of our date just to keep her talking.

"I know we've been friends for years but being on a date made everything different." I paused, then continued. "I guess the problem is she's been on lots of dates and it was my first."

"I think you're right, Jeremy. It's just a matter of experience. You'll get the hang of it."

"But with who? Everyone but me has been dating for years. How can I catch up?"

"You could read…"

"Read?"

"Yes. They say you can find out about anything on the Internet. Why not about dating?"

"That's bullshit," I snapped.

Startled, Mom pulled back and looked at me but, noting the degree of my frustration, didn't give me heck.

"Sorry, Mom."

"It's alright."

She pulled in close to me and I hugged her tight. Neither of us was interested in the movie but we looked at the TV anyway. Minutes passed.

"Could you tell me how to do it right?" I asked.

Mom drew away and looked at me.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"It's been years since I've been on a date."

"But you have been on them."

"Well, yes, but I'm sure things have changed since then."

"You mean guys didn't kiss their dates or try to touch them in your day?"

Mom laughed. "Of course, but…"

I broke in.

"I just need to know when the time is right, if at all. I don't know how to tell if a girls wants me to or not so I sit there like a block of wood, afraid to move, when she might be wanting me to do something. I feel like a dummy."

"You're not a dummy."

"Yeah, I am."

"I don't think me telling you about my dates would help."

"Couldn't hurt," I countered.

Mom settled back into the couch and we watched the rest of the movie in silence. She didn't give me an answer and I was trying to figure out why I had asked her in the first place.

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The weekend passed and Mom chose a war movie for the movie matinee on Monday. Tuesday, she said she was too busy but on Wednesday she picked a long, boring chick flick she'd seen a million times. Fifteen minutes in, out of the blue, she started talking about her first date.

It was almost as funny as mine. Her date had held her arm and finally made a move to cup her breast but in the darkness of the theatre managed to fondle her elbow instead. Things progressed from there until she was fending off groping hands and sloppy kisses for months until she met the guy she was sure she would marry. He was the opposite of all her previous dates, confident but not too sure of himself, funny but not goofy, and good looking. He was quiet around others but comfortable with her, like me.

"Dad?" I asked.

"No."

"Did you let him touch you?"

There was a long pause and I wondered if Mom was thinking about whether she should tell me.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because of the way he went about it and because I knew he wouldn't brag about it to anyone."

"I wouldn't do that," I mumbled.

"I know you wouldn't," Mom said. "You remind me of him."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

"What was his name?"

There was another long pause and I knew Mom didn't want to tell me. I didn't prod her and was about to change the subject when she answered, quietly.

"Jerry."

"Oh."

It was my turn to be silent but I couldn't do it for long.

"What did he do?" I asked.

Mom turned to me and laughed. "What did he do?"

I blushed. "I mean, how did he go about it? Why was he different?"

Mom sighed and sank back in the couch. She grabbed my right hand and pulled my arm around her shoulder. She tucked her chin into her chest and spoke even more quietly than usual.

"He went slowly because he knew I needed time to be comfortable with what he was doing. He never pushed or rushed me."

"Uh huh. So he…"

"Held me close with his arm around me for a long time. I don't think he tried to kiss me until our fifth date."

"A patient man," I observed.

"Yes. His patience made me impatient."

Mom chuckled and I noticed how it made her legs quiver. The hem of her skirt was high on her thighs and her knees were parted though there was no mug of tea that required a nestling place.

"He used to put his arm around me and rub my neck with one hand and stroke the other side all the way out to my shoulder with his other hand. For balance, he said."

"Smooth," I said.

"He was," Mom mused. "I didn't even notice when his hand slid down my upper arm instead of going on to my neck."

"And then he touched your…breast." I almost choked on the word and couldn't help looking down at Mom's chest to admire the way the material slackened upon the upper swells of her breasts and tightened on the sides.

"No. I expected him to but he just kept stroking my arm. On a later date, he made almost jump out of my seat. I was waiting for it, but he surprised me again."

"How so?"

"He went for my leg instead of my breast."

"Your leg?"

"Yes." Mom chuckled. "My leg. He put his hand on my knee and it was another two dates before he moved any higher."

"Huh."

I nodded, appreciating the wisdom of my mother's long ago lover. Had they been lovers? Was Mom implicitly confessing that she had lost her cherry lost to someone other than my father? I wasn't brave enough to ask that question directly so I turned to the movie. She seemed lost in thought anyway. I almost didn't notice my index finger gently scraping along the right side of my mother's neck and had no idea how long I'd been doing it when I did. I stopped when I became aware but started again and kept it up when she seemed not to notice.

The next day I rubbed the top of her shoulder. When Mom didn't react I felt an overpowering urge to bring my left hand into play on the nearer shoulder but held back in case it was too soon. I had a feeling she was aware of what I was doing though she gave no sign of it. I felt like I was in a classroom and if I went too fast I would get a failing grade. So I satisfied myself with her right shoulder and neck for that movie and the next.

I almost felt her nod in approval when I made my move the day after that. I did such a good job caressing her neck that, several times, Mom stretched her head back and closed her eyes instead of watching the movie.

I was getting quite a pile of wood in front of the barn and Dad was pleased with me. He had put a sign up on the road and several people had inquired about the old boards. Evidently, it was fashionable to use old wood in house renovations, especially from floors in old lofts. Some of the wood went for a price way over what Dad expected and he raised my hourly rate from five bucks to seven. Given he thought I was working eight hours instead of the five I was actually doing, that wasn't bad.

Soon, Mom had me down to fours hours because we started watching two movies in the afternoon. By then, I was quite practiced in making her very, very relaxed. I had moved on to her upper arm and sometimes she closed her eyes for so long I thought she was asleep, but I was wrong which I found out when I moved from her elbow to her left knee.

"Practicing?" Mom asked without lifting her head or opening her eyes.

"Huh?" I asked, surprised.

She opened her eyes. "I said, are you practicing."

I didn't know what to say and remained silent.

"It's alright. It's okay if you're just practicing."

I nodded and Mom closed her eyes. I was left with my hand on her knee, not knowing quite what to do with it. I kept it still until the end of the first movie but shortly after starting the next one I began twisting my palm on top of it.

"Stop that, Jeremy. It's annoying."

I did and returned to simply holding Mom's knee. Five minutes later, I asked.

"How did Jerry do it?"

"He put his hand on top of my leg, just above the knee with his fingers on the inside."

I did so. "And then?"

"He stroked my leg with his fingers, nicely, and not too soft to tickle."

"Like this?"

"Sort of."

For the rest of the movie I practiced caressing the inside of Mom's leg just above the knee. I didn't venture any farther.

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I started working harder in the mornings so I could pile up more boards and quit earlier. After lunch I waited while Mom went upstairs to change. She often wore pants in the mornings when Dad was home but always wore a dress or skirt to watch movies. For the past two days she had been wearing loose, pleated skirts that fell higher up her thighs. I hadn't thought much about it but enjoyed the exposure of a greater expanse of thigh. I wondered if Mom was inviting me to extend the range of my 'practice'.

I always started at the beginning, stroking neck and shoulder before progressing down the arm and then onto the leg. The apprehension I felt the first days was so intense I was almost unable to move. To alleviate my nervousness, I sought indirect approval from Mom.

"Is this the way Jerry did it?" I whispered.

"Mmmhmmm," was the inevitable answer.


That was enough to replace my fear with a confidence I had never known. However, when I passed a recently crossed boundary and approached another the uncertainty returned with a vengeance rendering me more nervous than ever, possibly because each transgression of normal son-mother interaction was increasingly forbidden.

Thus, my progression higher up Mom's leg proceeded at a snail's pace and I barely managed an extra inch each day or two. It was four days before I got to the thicker part of her leg and my fingers couldn't reach the bottom of her thigh even when fully extended. To reach the full height of her thigh I needed to move my palm up and down her leg but I had never actually moved my hand, leaving my fingers do the stroking.

It was a major hurdle and I was nervous about crossing it, very, very nervous. However, like the breaking of previous barriers, it was anticlimactic when it was done. In a way I knew it would be but I was still scared. As it turned out, Mom seemed to like the way my palm pressed into the softness of her flesh as my fingers stretched out to stroke the underside of her thigh. At least, she sighed whenever I did it.

Two days later my hand was so far up her leg it couldn't go any farther without the edge of my hand bumping the hem of her skirt higher. I was having difficulty breathing as I approached this newest boundary—actually manipulating her clothing for improved access to her flesh—with great trepidation and yet eagerness too. It was hard to work up the courage to push the skirt higher but the moment came when I took a deep breath and held it, then edged my hand against the hem.

Nothing happened and Mom's eyes remained closed. The material had simply crinkled without giving ground. I rubbed the inside of Mom's left leg and pulled it toward me. When her legs opened wider the skirt fell away and I stared, my hand frozen in place. A pair of white panties gawked back at me.

They were magnificent. They were so bright I squinted but of course that was impossible in the darkened room. I strained my eyes to investigate the contoured landscape which puffed dramatically up and away from the surrounding flesh of Mom's thighs. My cock, which was usually swollen during our movie sessions, stiffened and pressed hard against the denim of my jeans.

I glanced at Mom's face to make sure her eyes weren't open. Relieved, I rubbed the inside of her thigh but my complete attention was focused on those white panties and the way they moved in response to the push and pull of my hand on her flesh. Mom didn't sigh like I expected but the tenor of her breathing was different.

For days I worked my way up to rubbing the inside of Mom's thigh close to the white panties. I became quite cavalier about pushing the skirt out of the way to obtain an unobstructed view. They were always white. But I didn't know what to do next. Mom hadn't said anything for almost a week so I was startled when she lifted her head to speak.

"You're becoming quite adept," she said in a soft voice.

Stifling my panic, I answered as calmly and confidently as I could, trying to mimic my long absent role model, Jerry.

"I guess," I said.

"But you seem to be stuck."

I nodded, not trusting myself to maintain the charade of coolness.

"Are you wondering what Jerry's next move was?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, admitting my lack of cool.

"So what do you think it was?"

"I don't know."

I knew what I wanted it to be. I knew what I wanted to do, to press my hand over those beautiful panties and squeeze, but I knew that would be wrong.

"The obvious thing…" Mom started.

"He wouldn't do the obvious thing."

"You're right."

"And I couldn't practice that."

"Probably not," Mom confirmed.

Was it my imagination or was she a little short of breath? Did she remember her anticipation after so many years?

"So he…" I prompted.

"He…"

I saw it clearly then. His hand moved, feigning a leap to the honey pot but swerved instead up to cup her breast, confidently, testing its firmness without apology. Mom's eyes closed. Was she inviting me to do the same? I tried to move my hand, to force it along the path of my imagination, but it remained frozen to the inside of her thigh.

"…kissed me," she sighed. "Really deep and for a long time." She sighed again.

I stared at her face, her eyes closed and skin relaxed. Was she waiting? Could I really kiss my mother the way she said Jerry had done it? Did she really want me to, as practice for me or to reminisce for herself? Either way, how far could I push it?

"Girls like to be kissed," she whispered.

I leaned toward her and felt my muscles complain. How many days had I maintained this position, for hours at a time? I pushed forward and hung my head over hers, slowly moving closer until our lips were a fraction of an inch apart. She had to know I was hovering over her face—my breath would give me away—yet she gave no indication of rejection or acceptance. The only invitation was her soft, pouting lips.

On my own, I pressed my lips to hers.

They clashed, like two sponges meeting. My lips were immobilized. I was waiting for hers to move to imply acceptance but they didn't. Mine trembled, not intentionally, but from nervousness. Nevertheless, Mom's reacted so I wiggled them on purpose. Soon, I was kissing Mom and we were necking.

The next day I cheated with the lumber, moving some from the back of the pile to the front, to make my morning's work look more substantial. We had an early lunch and started the movies as soon as we were finished. Mom was already wearing a skirt and didn't need to get changed.

I didn't rush it. I progressed through the stages more quickly but not too fast. When my lips pressed upon hers there was only the briefest hesitation before my mouth moved and manipulated hers. They parted and for the first time the tip of my tongue slipped between. I froze, my typical reaction whenever I crossed a new boundary, but soon pushed my tongue past her teeth and into her mouth. The kissing was intense that afternoon. We necked for hours, unable to stop. My hunger for her lips and tongue, the desire to explore every inch inside her mouth, was ravenous.

Three days later, when my tongue had been exploring her mouth for almost an hour, my hand slipped of its own accord onto Mom's panties. Again, my whole body froze, waiting for her reaction. After a long time I was convinced there would be none and that permission had been granted. But then, her face pulled away.

"You probably shouldn't do that," she whispered.

I whispered back, "I know. It was an accident."

I meant to pull my hand away but I kissed her first and somehow, while our mouths were engaged, I forgot and she neglected to remind me. My hand remained on the white panties, quite still, lest she be reminded of its presence. The next day, when I moved my hand onto her panties after only a half hour of kissing, Mom admonished me again.

"You shouldn't do that."

"I know." A moment later I said, "Jerry did."

We renewed our kissing and I didn't remove or move my hand. After ten minutes or so of stillness, my hand constricted and I whispered a single word.

"Jerry."

It was more a press than a movement but enough to squeeze the soft puffiness of her panties, enough to feel the warmth and topography of her mound, and enough to trigger a muffled moan deep within Mom's throat.

Several days later my hand didn't just press and squeeze, it moved, and the whispered 'Jerry' was quite faint. The day after that I rubbed Mom's panties with great liberty without whispering his name though, as always, I had to start with barely a quiver of a touch. She openly moaned when my lips parted from hers and her loins were very responsive to my touch, often pushing hard against my hand. She never tried to close her legs except for the occasions when her thighs suddenly clamped hard around my hand, then quickly released.

It was about two weeks later, more than a week after I realized her contracting muscles meant she was coming, as I had been doing in my pants, that I reached a barrier I could not cross. I had slipped my hand farther upward, palm first, onto Mom's bare tummy and then tried to slide it back underneath her panties. Mom grabbed my wrist and spoke in a firm voice.

"No."

I kept my hand still, adopting my usual frozen demeanor, but tried to slip my fingers inside her panties again a few minutes later, whispering, "Jerry."

"No," she repeated, more firmly than before.

I didn't try a third time. I put my hand back on her mound, outside her panties, and she sought my lips with hers. Strangely, she came very hard that time, and sooner. As usual, we went upstairs to our respective bedrooms to clean up and met downstairs in the kitchen for a cup of tea. We never talked about what happened in the living room, or even about dating. Afterward, I returned to work on the barn until Dad came home.

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

The next morning, Mom asked Dad if it was okay if I helped her pick berries instead of working on the barn for a few days.

"Do you need him? He's doing so well and I have several people wanting to buy lumber."

"I do," Mom replied.

"For how long?"

"Two or three days."

"Days?"

"Do you want blackberry jam this winter?"

Dad grumbled but gave his blessing.

That morning, I helped Mom pick a pile of blackberries. We had a picnic lunch on the small hilltop behind our house. Mom finished eating before me and lay back on the blanket, one armed crooked behind her for a pillow and the other bent on her forehead to cover her eyes. She looked beautiful, with strands of her thin, wispy hair straying across her freckled face and her legs outlined by the loose summer dress. I could even see the bumps that marked the location of her smallish breasts, pulled high and taut by her outstretched arms.

"How should a guy go about touching a girl's breasts?" I blurted out.

Mom frowned and I immediately regretted what I'd said. I had ruined this pleasant time where we were acting like a normal mother and son.

"I shouldn't have asked," I said. "Forget it."

Mom smiled. "It's okay. I know you're curious."

Still, she didn't say anything and I decided to let it drop.

"I can't really tell you. I don't have much experience in that line."

"Why? Isn't Dad a breast man?"

Mom laughed but not pleasantly. "Yes, but mine are too small to warrant his attention."

"What about Jerry?" I ventured.

I had a sudden, enormous desire to see and fondle her breasts. They were small, I knew, but I bet they were sexy like the rest of her.

"He's like your father in that regard, I'm afraid."

I dropped the subject and sat in silence. I gazed down the hill, surveying our house, the barn and other outbuildings, the garden, and the field between us and them. I put my hand on Mom's bare foot and idly began stroking her ankle. Soon, I was rubbing her leg from foot to above her knee. Something stirred in my loins and I turned to lie beside her, on my side. I leaned over to kiss her and we were soon necking. My hand lifted the hem of the dress onto her tummy and she opened her legs to welcome my hand on her panties.

As if it was expected I tried to slip my fingers inside Mom's panties. She stopped me, of course, but without the firm reprimand. A simple, firm grip on my wrist was enough. I returned to her panties and soon tried to slip a finger through the legging. Mom chuckled but her hand gripped my wrist. I tried twice more and then pulled my hand away.

I sat up and looked at her. Her eyes were and closed she looked like she was waiting, confident I would return. I also knew I would but held off, admiring her face which was flush with excitement from our kissing and petting. The dress was piled on her tummy yet Mom made no effort to cover herself or to even close her legs. The panties where swollen and there were two sharp points pricking into the dress where her small breasts should be, as excited as the rest of her body.

The dress buttoned down the front. I started to unbutton the top one and Mom's hands latched onto mine but gently, without the firmness used to prevent the invasion of her panties. My fingers persisted and Mom's hands fell away. Excitement surged within me and I fumbled several times in my attempts to undo the remaining buttons but eventually they were all undone.

I hadn't pulled the dress apart as the buttons were removed. Now, I gently put my fingers between the two halves and separated them, pulling them apart in one swoop to reveal my mother's breasts.

They were divine. Small, yes, but the nipples stabbed upward, shamelessly. She had awesome little tits!

"They're fools," I announced.

Mom knew who I was talking about and smiled.

"Fools," I repeated.

The hand across Mom's forehead abandoned her eyes to the sun and joined the other to form a better pillow under her head. Her breasts awaited.

I leaned over and kissed her gently instead of going straight for her tits. I smiled because I knew I had surprised her and she smiled back. I kissed her several more times and then lowered my head, kissing her chin, then her throat and clavicle before pressing my lips onto the upper swells of her breasts. A minute later, I sucked a nipple into my mouth.

It took a while before I learned how she liked to have her tits suckled but I will never forget the reaction to that first suck. Mom arched her back and shoved her whole tit into my mouth. Her breasts were very sensitive. Like her mound, they loved to be touched. Not mauled, but touched, and kissed, definitely kissed.

I alternated between Mom's mouth and her breasts. Her hands unwound from beneath her head and clutched mine, following but never leading it on its journey from one location to the other.

My hand returned to Mom's panties and rubbed more vigorously than before. Her body writhed on the blanket and I sensed she was turned on more than she'd ever been before, at least with me. I felt I could do anything with her. When I look back, I realize that was a major part of why Mom was so exciting. She let me know how much I excited her and that really turned me on.

My fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties. I hadn't meant to try again; it was simply automatic. Mom's hand gripped my wrist and I stopped. I was about to apologize when her grip loosened and her hand fell away. I remained still, breathing heavily, until her hand pressed on the back of my head, forcing my mouth onto her nipple. My fingers pushed lower and climbed onto her mound, splaying to either side of her slit to caress her lower lips. Mom moaned and after a few rubs my finger slipped into her cleft.

She arched her back, forcing her tit deep into my mouth. I sucked hard and pushed my finger into her cunt. Mom pulled me onto her and wrapped her legs around mine making it difficult to keep my finger inside her but I managed. Now that I was in there I wasn't going to be easily dislodged.

Mom's arms kept my head on her chest and her hips bumped and writhed against me as she fucked my finger. It was like I had let a caged panther loose. My bulge thrust and rubbed against the bony front of her left hip. She was moaning like crazy, or so I thought until I realized at least half of them, the louder ones, were mine. It was incredibly intense.

Mom became even more vocal and so did I. The writhing became frenetic and I knew we were both coming hard. I collapsed on her side, my chest heaving in time with hers. I fell off onto my back and listened to her gasping lungs, almost as desperate to be filled as my own. We recovered slowly until our breathing was regular, lying side by side on our backs.

Eventually, I sat up. Mom's eyes were closed and her dress was still wide open, displaying her complete nakedness except for the panties. Her body looked relaxed but there was still a slight sheen on her skin from the sweat of our exertions. Her breasts were rosy and the nipples still distended. My gaze lowered to the white panties which were pulled halfway down, leaving her pussy partially exposed, a tuft of wispy brown hair and part of her cleft emerging above the waistband. I loved the way she didn't try to cover up. She just lay there, wanton and gorgeous.

The sun's heat felt divine. I pushed Mom's legs further apart and she smiled. I picked up a blackberry and put it to her lips. They opened and she sucked it into her mouth. I offered another and it disappeared in the same way but a third was rejected by sealed lips.

I pushed the blackberry, bottom down, against Mom's left nipple, as if trying to fit it with a juicy toque. It didn't fit, of course, and disintegrated on her areole, staining it dark purple. Mom laughed and I adorned her right nipple with another blackberry. Two more followed for each one and then I scooped up a handful of berries. Mom's eyes were open now and she watched but didn't try to stop me.

Her eyes followed my hand as it moved from breast to breast, hovering, then broke away and stopped above her panties. I used my free hand to tug the panties down until her whole pussy was exposed. Mom lifted her head and craned her neck to watch. I squeezed my hand. Juice dribbled out and dripped onto her pussy. I moved, trailing the stream of freshly squeezed blackberry juice around her mound and then down through her cleft. I grabbed another handful and squeezed it until the cleft briefly filled, then mysteriously drained away.

Mom's neck was straining with the effort to keep her head up and I cupped the back of her head with a hand to help. I lowered my own to examine the disappearing juice, got very close, then dropped the last few inches and kissed her mound.

"Ohhhhhhh, Jeez."

I looked at her and kissed her pussy again.

"You shouldn't do that," she gasped.

"I know," I said, and lowered my mouth, stretching out my tongue until it fit between her nether lips.

"Ohhhh, God."

I wiggled my tongue, sliding it sideways up and down through Mom's slit. She moaned when I tried to cover her whole pussy with my mouth. I sucked her lips and kissed them, licked all over, and pushed my tongue deep. My finger found her hole and pushed inside. For a long time, I finger fucked Mom and ate her at the same time. My free hand found my buckle and loosened my belt, then unsnapped my jeans.

"No," Mom said.

"I won't," I responded.

"I mean it."

"I know."

I jacked my cock and fingered and licked Mom. Several minutes later Mom pulled my hand off my cock and put it on her left tit. My thumb and fingers encircled it and started tugging and pinching her long, stiff nipple. Her hand found my cock and her fingers wrapped around it. She stroked it slowly but when I moaned she jerked it faster and faster.

Our moans intermingled. Hunched over her, I fingered and sucked and humped my cock toward her body. Mom gasped and moaned and said something I couldn't make out. I tried hard to listen but couldn't until one phrase came through clear as a bell.

"Come on me," she gasped.

And then I was. It was like her command released a huge load of sperm built up inside me. I blasted a jet of hot, white jism onto her side and across her stomach. The next rope landed on her tits and the next higher, almost up to her throat. I steered the last two gasps much lower, onto her pussy, and immediately felt that was a stupid thing to do.

"Oh baby, oh Jerry," Mom moaned, her hips lifting off the blanket as her heels dug in and her legs and torso writhed frantically, thighs closing, then opening and snapping closed again and again.

Still holding my cock, she aimed it between her legs but I had nothing left to give. Man, that Jerry was a lucky guy. He must have taken Mom's cherry and fucked her a lot; else why would she get so horny just thinking about him? I bet she would have done anything for him. I was jealous, really jealous.


Mom kept holding my cock afterward and that prevented it from softening. When her breathing returned to normal she let it go. She buttoned her dress and pulled it down without cleaning herself, then stood to gather the blanket. Grabbing a basket of blackberries, she set off down the hill toward the house. I grabbed the other three baskets and chased after her. I walked beside her for about thirty steps before speaking.

"How long did you go out with Jerry?"

Mom didn't answer. I tried again.

"What happened to him? I mean, why did you break up?"

She looked down and then up at the sky and only then I realized how insensitive my questions were. They had had obviously been in love and something catastrophic must have happened to him or she would have married him instead of Dad.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's just not the right time to talk about him."

"When should I…"

"You know when," she said, and quickened her pace.

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

We picked more berries the next morning but Mom didn't bring a blanket and we went straight back to the house. After lunch, Mom went upstairs and I selected a movie to watch but she didn't come. I waited patiently, then not so patiently, and finally went upstairs. About halfway up I could see her bedroom door was closed and indecision gripped me. After several false starts, up and down, I found myself descending the stairs. Before I knew it I was outside and heading for the remains of the barn. Working feverishly, I soon built up a substantial pile of wood. Dad was pleased when he got home.

"Just in time," he said. "I've sold a truck full so tomorrow you can help me make a few deliveries."

I had lost track of time. It was Friday and a long weekend loomed ahead. Mom never allowed any funny business on the weekend or, for that matter, any time Dad was home whether from fear of being caught or out of respect for my father. Killing a morning delivering the fruits of my labor would be easier than hanging around the house so near to Mom but so far away.

We loaded up the old flatdeck and trundled off down the highway. The deliveries took longer than I thought because they were in all directions from our place. It was mid afternoon, between our third and fourth deliveries, when I broached the topic of Jerry with Dad.

"So how long did Mom go out with that guy before she met you?"

Dad shot a confused look at me while making the shift from second to third.

"What guy?"

"Jerry."

"Jerry? I don't know no Jerry."

"Mom did. She when out with him before she met you."

Dad slammed his arm back in a long arc punctuated with a brief rev of the engine as he shifted into fourth without using the clutch.

"Your mother and I started dating when we were fourteen."

"Oh."

The truck's transmission whined as it gained speed.

"So, at some point you had a break?"

"A break?"

"You know, split up for a while."

"Nope, never, though the idea occurred to us once or twice after we got married."

Dad's arm pushed the long gearshift up and over into fifth. This time he double-clutched.

"Who's this Jerry anyway?"

"I don't know. Shelley thought her mother said Mom went out with a guy named Jerry."

"Nope, no Jerry. She went out with Jimmy McVey before me but only for a couple of weeks, then she lucked out."

Dad looked at me with a big grin on his face. I laughed and looked out the window. We drove on in silence. What the fuck was going on?

Mom was wearing a nice dress when we got home and the smell of roast beef filled the house.

"What are we having tomorrow?" Dad asked. Normally we had roast beef on Sunday. Saturday was chicken night.

"Steak and kidney pie."

"Woo hoo," Dad said. "We made a bundle today, get roast beef for dinner, and steak tomorrow. How can you beat that?"

"There's fresh blackberry pie, too."

"And fresh blackberry pie." Dad grinned. "Let's get washed up, junior."

I couldn't help glancing at Mom with almost every bite of blackberry pie. When she noticed, she blushed and my cock swelled. Picturing her tits and pussy covered in blackberry juice, I actually groaned.

"What's the matter," Dad asked.

"Nothing."

"Something wrong with the pie? Your mother probably spent hours baking it."

"No, no. It's perfect," I assured him, then looked at Mom and said, meaningfully, "Perfect."

Mom blushed, looked down, and said, "Eat your pie and stop being silly. Both of you."

The next day Dad and I set off with an empty truck. He had made a deal on one of our deliveries for a lower price in exchange for the right to dismantle a couple of sheds. Given the price we were getting for the recycled lumber, we would make a bundle and he was happier than a pig in shit.

On the way back with a truck full of lumber Dad said, "I think you've earned a bonus, Jeremy."

"A bonus?"

"Yeah, for all your hard work. You've done a good job."

"That's great."

In reality, I felt bad given how little I actually worked and what I'd been doing with my time.

"How's five hundred dollars sound?"

"Five hundred! Dad, that's too much."

I felt like a real cad.

"No it's not. But don't tell your mother about it or she'll be wanting to buy new clothes with the rest."

I felt a little less the cad and his next remark relieved me even more.

"That Shelley's a real little looker isn't she? Like her mother."

"Uh, I guess."

"You ever get anywhere with that?"

I looked out the window.

"No."

We had blackberries and French Vanilla ice cream for dessert. I separated the berries and ice cream on each spoonful, savoring the blackberries to the point of licking the spoon after each bite. I had the audacity to glance at Mom's chest on one occasion and was exhilarated when she snapped a look at Dad and then cast her eyes down, blushing. After dinner, Dad went upstairs to have a shower. He wasn't as used to physical work as I was and was feeling a little sore. I helped clear the dishes and started to dry.

"I can do them myself. Why don't you relax and watch a movie?"

"A movie?" I repeated.

Mom blushed again and started scrubbing a plate. I passed behind her to put a glass in the cupboard and leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck.

"Jeremy!" Mom gasped, twisting her neck to look at the kitchen doorway.

"He's in the shower," I said.

"That doesn't matter," she snapped, implicitly referencing the unwritten rule: no Jerry-related behavior when Dad was home.

I dried another glass and put it away without bothering Mom but kissed her neck again on the way back, catching her by surprise.

"Jeremy."

"What?"

"You know what?"

"Did you want to talk about Jerry?" I asked.

"Not now."

I put a plate away and stopped behind Mom. I put my hands on her shoulders and kneaded her neck.

"That's probably a good idea since there's nothing to talk about."

Mom didn't say anything but her body tensed. I worked my hands out to the edge of her shoulders and then onto her upper arms. My fingers stretched inward until the tips scraped the blouse covering the side of her breasts.

"Jeremy."

I leaned close and folded my arms around her front.

"There is no Jerry, is there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he isn't real."

I withdrew my arms but only enough so I could grasp a breast in each hand. I kneaded them instead of her shoulders.

"Jeremy, stop it."

"Why?"

"Your father…"

"…is upstairs."

Mom didn't answer and I stopped my kneading but kept hold of her tits.

"You started dating Dad when you were fourteen, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you've never dated anyone else, right."

"Not really."

"You've never been with another man."

"That's right."

My hands slipped down to grasp her hips."

"Jerry is a figment of your imagination, isn't he?"

"I invented him to help you. I thought you'd take advice about how to deal with women if it came from an accomplished man."

"Why didn't you use Dad?"

Mom laughed, short and bitter.

"You guys are bored with each other, aren't you?"

"Partly. We've been bored with each other for a long time."

"There's something else?"

Mom didn't answer. I pulled her hips back against me in an attempt to seem firm but something else became firmer as the softness of her butt pressed against it. I ran my hands up the outside of her blouse, following the contour of her waist. My fingers caught the edge of her bra and pushed it up and off her small tits. The thin cotton nylon blend did little to hide the exciting shape of her breasts which fit nicely into my hands, the points poking into my palms giving away her real feeling about Dad's presence.

"He fooled around on you, didn't he?"

Mom remained silent.

"You didn't invent Jerry just for me. Isn't that right?"

Silence.

"Dad's disinterest and dishonesty killed him for you, didn't it?"

"Yes." Mom's voice was hoarse.

I started kneading her tits.

"And you needed a companion to replace him, especially during the day when he wasn't home, someone who was much, much better because you're not a toy kind of girl, are you?"

"Yessss."

I pinched her nipples and held them while I turned my mouth into the nape of her neck and nibbled on it. I pressed my bulge into the crack that her shapely buttocks made easy to find through the cotton skirt.

"He cheated on you and now he's upstairs, unaware that now it's you receiving the attention you need."

"Yessss."

"Poetic justice, don't you think?"

"Yes!"

I ground my cock against her ass and kissed the side of her face. She turned toward me and I kissed her on the mouth. It was long and intense and I never let go of her nipples or stopped moving my cock against her ass.

"I can think of things Jerry never did."

"What kind of things?"

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow to see," I said.

Her mouth sought mine. When our lips parted her skirt was up to her hip, resting on my right wrist as my hand cupped her pussy. She didn't object.

"An independent mind isn't so easily predictable, is it?"

"No," Mom gasped as my finger slipped through the legging of her panties and inserted itself into her cunt.

"But it's more exciting."

I held my finger still.

"Yes."

Mom's hips flexed as she worked herself on my finger.

"Jerry was getting boring too, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

My finger moved in and out, accentuating her movements.

"But you didn't mean to let things go so far, did you?"

"No!"

"And now it's too late?"

"Yes!"

I pulled her head back to expose her throat and kissed her on the mouth. My tongue dived deep and I added a second finger to the subterranean works, humping her ass and forcing her onto my fingers. When the kiss was over, we were both panting. I released her and stepped back.

"Mom," I whispered.

She turned around, the expression on her face matching the passion expressed by her loins. After a brief glance at the kitchen doorway she stepped toward me. For some strange reason, I backed away. She laughed hoarsely but didn't say anything. When she moved again she fell to her knees, keeping her eyes on mine for a moment before her attention shifted lower to focus on my pants. Her hands grabbed my hips and pulled me forward until my bulge pressed on her face. She kissed it.

I looked down, unable to move, as she drew back and looked at me, smiling. Without a word, or another look at the doorway, her delicate hands loosened my belt and pulled the zipper down. My cock was quickly fished out of my underwear, perhaps too quickly since it caught momentarily on the metal ware. I grimaced but said nothing. Mom stretched my cock out and admire it.

"Mmmm, much more interesting than your father's."

"And Jerry's?"

She shrugged. Her fingers and thumb formed circle which slipped over the head and onto the shaft of my cock which lurched under her sensitive touch. I pushed through the ring until the tip bumped into her chin and then her nose and finally skidded along her cheek. Mom pulled her head back and then quickly pushed forward, her mouth opening wide to engulf my cock. More than half of it was embedded before I realized my cock was in her mouth. I groaned and put my hands on her head, one on top and the other behind but didn't pull. I could only follow the movements of her head because I was shocked. She was really sucking me!

Suddenly, I found it hard to breath. I turned my head toward the doorway. Where was he? He should have finished his shower by now. Did it matter? Could I stop her, even if he pointed a gun at my head?

Nevertheless, an urgency came over me and I gripped Mom's head. Holding it still, I started thrusting my cock in and out of her mouth. Who cared about Jerry? I didn't need him anymore and neither did Mom. She had me now. And who gave a fuck about Dad? He fucked around with other women and left my gorgeous mother at home alone. That must have broke her heart, back in the day when she loved him. What an asshole!

My hips bucked but somehow Mom kept her head on my cock which must have been hard because I had lost control and was jamming it in and out. I thought about how horny it made me when she lost it and wondered if she was also getting off because she could make me lose it so quickly.

I couldn't believe I hadn't come already. I marveled at the way Mom's cheeks bulged to accommodate my pole but liked it better when it ran straight and pushed deep to knock on the door to her throat. I felt like power was being endowed upon me by this sexy woman through the simple act of letting me hold her head and push my cock into her mouth and being willing to accept it into her throat. She balked at first, yanking her head back and gasping wetly, but hurled herself back with a vengeance, taking my shaft deeper. She was so fucking hot!

She coughed, drooled, and shoved back to take it deep. I didn't realize I was in until she snorted through her nose to suck air into her body through the only avenue available. It was difficult for her to breathe but I didn't care. At that moment I cared only for my own satisfaction. I held her head tight against me, burying her nose in my pubic hair, thrilled by the knowledge she had probably never done anything like this before. I started to come.

"Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhhh, Jeeezzz!"

She didn't spill a drop. I didn't notice, of course, but afterward realized there wasn't a speck on her face or anywhere on the floor. She stood up and briefly pressed her lips to mine. I tried to kiss her more firmly but drew back and looked down as her hands re-holstered my cock, zipped up my pants, and buttoned them closed.

"How can you control a woman like that and not know when it's okay to touch her breasts?"

"Internet," I said. "I know what to do, just not how to get started, or who it's okay to do it with."

"Oh yes, the Internet generation."

Mom turned around and plunged her hands into the sink.

"I'll finish the dishes. You go find out what happened to your father."

I found him on the bed, naked. He must have crashed after his shower. I returned to the kitchen and finished drying the dishes. Mom and I watched a movie, sitting next to each other on the loveseat but we only held hands. Dad never came down and we turned out the lights and walked upstairs together. We brushed our teeth and got ready for bed in the main bathroom which was usually used only by me. At her door, I kissed Mom goodnight. I felt the need to show her how much I cared for her after the way I had used her in the kitchen, despite the fact she had initiated it.

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

I was late for breakfast the next morning. Dad left for work as soon as he finished eating without giving Mom a kiss or even saying goodbye. Everything was back to normal in the Hunter household. Mom started doing the dishes while I finished my breakfast. We didn't talk. When I was done, I put my dishes in the sink and gave Mom a peck on the cheek.

"See you at lunch," I said.

"No."

"No?"

I couldn't believe she was going to play games with me. Could she really be having second thoughts about last night? She needed me like I needed her. After years in a dull marriage she had dreamed of something more that was at least not boring. I took after her, not my father. Who better than me to know what she wanted, what she needed?

"We have to talk," she said.

She took my hand in her wet, soapy one and led me from the kitchen. I followed her upstairs, intent on the movement of her buttocks under the summer dress, perhaps because I was sure she was going to tell me it was all over and explain why, citing a bunch of bullshit reasons we both knew didn't matter.

Down the hall and into her bedroom. Mom released my hand five feet into the room and walked by herself to the bed. She stopped by the side with her back to me and stared at it. I waited for her to turn around to start the charade, wondering why I had destroyed the myth of Jerry. He would have been useful now and might even have turned the tide. I sighed, and waited.

Mom's hands lifted to her head, pushed up her hair and slipped the scrunchy off. She fluffed it out, spreading it over her shoulders, then undid the little hook at the top of her dress. The zipper followed and the dress was shrugged off her shoulders. It fell to her waist, catching on her hips until Mom wiggled and let it fall to the floor. The panties were narrow, emerging from her crack and splitting to swoop over each hip. When she pulled them down, the center caught between her cheeks and resisted as if stuck to her pussy. They were down to her knees before I realized they had broken free. I watched, mesmerized, as the panties slipped over each ankle and past each set of painted toes.

She didn't look back at me as I expected but put one knee on the bed and paused. Again, I thought she would turn around but instead she fell and half twisted onto the bed, rolling over on her back and then up onto her side facing away from me, stretched out full length with one leg resting on top of the other. She craned her neck to look back and smiled. I had to pull my eyes off her wonderful ass to smile back. She leaned forward slightly to display her ass better.

"You like it?"

She knew what I was looking at. I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.

"Then you have a decision to make."

"A decision?"

"Yes. Get undressed and come here."

I quickly shed my clothes, ungracefully, stumbling several times, and rushed to the bed. I stopped, remembering Mom's revelation so many weeks ago that a woman doesn't like to be rushed, she wants to be enjoyed. I knew that now. I took a deep breath and then another. Mom smiled. She knew what was going on in my head. I stretched out on the bed behind her and tentatively put my hand on her right cheek. She smiled encouragingly and I twisted my hand around on her cheek and ran the tips of my fingers up through her crack. Mom laughed huskily.

"You really want it, don't you?"

I nodded, then struggled to speak.

"Yes," I croaked.

"Then you really do have a decision to make. Be sure you make the right one."

"What decision?"

"Which way to turn me."

I was confused.

"Pull me onto my back or push me onto my stomach," she explained, the smile gone. "Choose."

I looked at the beautiful, curving groove of her spine, the narrowness of her waist and the flair of her hips, the buttocks bulging out and pressing together to form her crack which gave way to the back of her pussy, and down her slender thighs which I had caressed for hours day after day worrying that I was moving too fast. What did she mean? Why did it matter whether I fucked her from behind or face to face? I didn't get it.

I reached out to touch her hip. I could hardly breathe. Her ass was incredibly exciting. I wanted to push my cock between her cheeks and rub it through her crack. I knew she wasn't teasing. She was ready to let me fuck her but if I made the wrong choice she would say no and this time it would be final. 

What did she want?

I ran my hand over her right cheek and twisted it again to run my fingertips through her crack, this time pressing the longest one deep and rubbing it across the little pucker which was my favorite thing to look at on the Internet porno flicks. I was so close now to the real thing and had, in fact, actually touched it. And all because this beautiful woman let me.

I looked at Mom's face but found no clues there. My hand found her right hip and started to push it forward. Suddenly, I yanked it back and pulled her onto her back. I twisted forward and stretched across her torso, my hand rushing up to cup her face. I kissed her. Mom chuckled into my mouth and her arms circled around my neck. She kissed me back, hard.

I pulled up to look at her. My right leg pressed between hers and my cock was lay across her hip, stretching out onto the pout of her tummy. Mom took it gently into her left hand.

"Do you want to make love?" she asked, fingers caressing my shaft like a musician exploring an antique flute.

"Can you tell?"

I laughed, confidence surging within me. I had made the right decision and was just beginning to understand why.

"I love you. I love you, Mom."

"I know you do, Jerry," she whispered.

I kissed her and slid on top of her as she guided my cock to her entrance. I now understood that Jerry had been a figment of Mom's imagination, a companion that kept her company through much of her marriage to my father. But now he was about to become her real lover. Jerry had morphed into me.

"I love you," I whispered as my cock slid inside her, spreading her inner walls, walls that hadn't been pressured to give way for a long, long time.

"Oh Jerry. Love me. Love me good."

My tongue snake into Mom's mouth and investigated the inside of her cheeks as I twisted my hips so my cock could conduct its own exploration. I moved slowly, trying to bond as much of my skin to hers as I possibly could. I wanted to be close enough to be inside her with every part of my body.

She responded to my gentle thrusts and twists, pushing up to meet every one. I used my elbows to hold my weight off her but her body lifted to maintain the touch I had initiated. Soon, she was demanding, pulling instead of pushing, leading rather than following. I tried to catch up and was soon giving back as much as I got, and more.

I assumed command, spreading Mom's legs wide and lifting off my elbows to brace myself with straight arms so I could flex my hips with greater strength. Mom pulled herself up against my chest and her knees back. Eventually, her arms weakened and she fell back to the mattress. I pushed her thighs back and squatted over her, feet on either side, and plunged in deep. My hands found her breasts and gripped them hard, harder than I meant to, and Mom moaned. The back of my thighs slapped against hers and my balls banged onto her ass. I was in the middle of the most wonderful experience of my life but I worried that I was being too rambunctious.

I pulled her legs down and settled between them, slowing my pace to a crawl, filling her slowly and dragging my cock out even slower. I kissed her breasts, her neck, her forehead, and her mouth. Slowly, Mom eased me back to more active 'lovemaking' and I found myself straddling her left leg while holding the right up in the air. Not much later I was squatting over her bent back thighs again and she was egging me on until I was about to come. Suddenly, she threw her legs out straight, pulled me down upon her, and cried, "Fill me."

In a flash, I realized I was riding her bareback but it was too late, I couldn't hold back. I tried to pull out but Mom held me tight, wrapping her legs around mine as I emptied inside her, my stomach palpitating so hard you might have thought I was convulsing. I sobbed in the crook of Mom's neck.

"I love you."

"I know," she answered, patting the back of my shoulder. "Don't talk."

So I lay on top of Mom, easing back from delirium, too exhausted to keep my weight off her but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to like being smothered and pressed deep into the mattress. After a while, a long while, she let her arms fall off my shoulders and unwrapped her legs from mine. I lifted myself up on my elbows and turned onto my back. I would have got out of bed but Mom's hand grasped mine so we lay there together, side by side on our backs, staring at the ceiling and not speaking.

Eventually, Mom squeezed my hand and said, "We should get up. I need a shower and it's important for you to get some work done before your father gets home."

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

I worked feverishly that afternoon. In the middle of breakfast the next day Mom picked up her bowl of blackberries and, leaving the rest of her food on the table, went upstairs. Dad looked at me and shrugged. After he left I rushed upstairs to see if she was okay.

"Mom. Are you okay?"

She was in bed, reading, covered by a single sheet. She put the book onto her bedside table and looked at me.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uh, you left without finishing your breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry. Has your father gone?"

I nodded but struggled to make sense of what she was saying. She laughed and picked up the bowl of blackberries that was on the bedside table, then twisted around to put it on the far side of the bed. The sheet, lying loosely on top of her, pulled tight around her body. When she turned back, she had a blackberry in her mouth. She swallowed it and said, "I didn't care about blackberries before. They're your father's favorite but I like them now."

Mom turned away from me and twisted onto her stomach. The sheet was pulled with her and exposed half her body, lengthways. I had a short moment to admire her naked body before she looked over her shoulder at me. She saw where I was looking and reached back to pull the sheet, exposing her ass completely.

"Can you help me with the rest of these?"

I was stuck for something to say. She looked beautiful and sexy with the sheet twisted around her feet and legs to her knees but thighs and back naked. I pulled off my t-shirt and dropped my shorts and underwear. I climbed onto the bed and grasped her hip, tugging to pull her onto her back, but she resisted.

"What are you trying to do?" she asked.

"I want to make love."

"Well, today is different from yesterday."

"I don't understand."

Mom engaged my eyes and said, "Yesterday it was important for you to show me you loved me and didn't just want sex. Today I want to make you happy."

She smiled at the confused look on my face.

"You like my ass, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"And you like to play with blackberries, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well?"

Mom turned away. Her ass pushed up and back, just a bit, but enough to grab my attention. Slowly, I reached across Mom and dipped my hand into the bowl. The blackberries had been mixed in with some kind of vegetable oil. My hand hovered over her flesh and squeezed, dribbling blackberry juice onto her buttock and into her crack. Mom lowered her head and I squeezed another handful and then another onto her ass, then spread the juice all over both buttocks. I leaned in and started licking her cheeks and she giggled. I did too and that was all that was needed to break the ice. My inhibitions were gone in an instant.

Mom let me play with her ass as much as I wanted but when I raised up on my knees behind her and tried to press my cock into her little hole she pushed it away. I tried several times before I realized she wasn't going to let me take her ass cherry that day. Some day, maybe, but not today.

She bent over onto her shoulders and twisted her head so our eyes could meet. I entered her and slid in more easily than I had the day before. What I had thought was a rambunctious fuck then was tame compared to this and I almost forgot what I had missed, what I thought I had been promised, and what I knew I would eventually have after I proved I was worthy.

After that day sex was not a given. Mom didn't spread her legs for me whenever I wanted it. To the contrary, she required constant confirmation of my love and her own worthiness. I didn't mind. The effort she demanded was always worth it and we both enjoyed the game.

In time, I learned early when the answer was going to be no. The best times were the ones where I was forced to play the game slowly, gradually convincing her to make her charms available. Sometimes I had to work hard to get my hand under her dress and held my hand immobile on her panties for hours before carefully wiggling my fingers and hoping I didn't do it hard enough that she would 'have' to notice because then the game would be over until the next time. Oh, but when I got to the point where her passion justified abandoning herself to the needs of her body, ooh lala, she was mine.

Mom wasn't a cocktease, she was simply showing me how to extract the maximum pleasure for both of us. It was a lesson my father was incapable of learning. He was the type of man who needed instant gratification and the needs of his partner didn't matter. With me, the game could start in the morning and not be consummated until the afternoon or even late evening. I could start with a glance, or a certain posture, or an unusual turn of phrase that made me aware the game was on and instantly focused my senses. Our lovemaking thus consumed many hours in a single session.

In the year that followed Mom found ways for us to be together on some weekends and at least twice during the week before my father came home. Dad's affair with Shelley's mom made it easier, especialy because he thought he was being so clever, which annoyed Mom to no end.

One Friday night he came home long after the bars had closed, drunk but with a hint of another woman's perfume under the stench of stale beer, and passed out fully clothed in his chair in the living room. I got up to see what the commotion was about and found Mom already there.

"Do you want me to get him upstairs."

"No," she replied. "He's too big even for both of us to carry."

The she did something that shocked me. She lay on the loveseat with her back against the arm closest to him, pulled up her nightgown and spread her legs. She looked at me and said, "We're awake anyway."

I didn't need a second invitation. I was between her legs in an instant, not fully cognizant of when my boner had grown so hard. That was one sweet, dangerous, magnificant fuck.

The first time Mom called me Jerry in his presence, I almost choked on my supper for I had told her of my queries to Dad about Jerry.

"I thought you didn't like blackberries?" he asked one day when we were having dessert.

"I didn't," Mom replied, "but they've kind of grown on me. How about you, Jerry?"

She looked at me and smiled, filling her mouth with a mouthful of blackberries, smugly communicating that Dad wasn't clever enough to figure out it out.

"Same," I said. "But a few months ago I found out I love them,"

I filled my mouth and smiled back with puffed cheeks, a little juice running out the corner of my mouth, like Mom's.

"I like them even more than you do now, Dad."

The next summer I ran the used lumber business myself with Mom's help doing the books and driving the truck for deliveries. By the end of the year I had two guys working for me in a reno business. I'm no longer shy. I'll do anything to keep working at home.

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