The Inheritance Ch. 01
byalwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 years or older.

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Grandpa was dying. I hadn't seen him since we moved away seven years ago but my memory was of a strong man who would live forever. He always said if the war couldn't kill him, nothing could.

It was a long call and by the time she got off the phone Mom was really upset which surprised me because I knew she didn't get on well with Grandpa even though he liked to say she was his special girl, something that never failed to get under her skin. He always annoyed her when he showed up, usually unannounced. I enjoyed his visits but Dad didn't and always made himself scarce. I don't remember us ever visiting Grandpa.

When Mom answered the phone, I knew it was him because she had that grim look on her face whenever he called, the one that set like a rock if she knew he was coming. So I was looking for that face to materialize but it didn't come. Instead, Mom looked shocked and then angry for a long time and finally, tears welled up in her eyes, though none rolled down her cheeks.

Hardly saying a word, she just listened and nodded or shook her head, mostly shook, looking angrier and more upset by the minute. Finally, she clicked the phone off and put it back on the table, dropping it the last few inches.

"Grandpa is dying," she said, staring blankly at the fridge, the phone still clattering on the table. "He doesn't have much time and he wants you and I to come, to hear his will."

Mom shuffled out of the kitchen.

I was surprised by the near tears because I thought she didn't care for her father. She seemed to dislike him even more than Dad did though I didn't understand why. It bothered me.

So we had two one way plane tickets the next day. Mom explained that he said Grandpa wanted me to have his car, a 1959 Chrysler Imperial in immaculate condition, and she didn't want me to drive home alone.

Mom was still visibly upset. Not sad, or angry, more like dread at facing something that she couldn't avoid. Of course. Her father was dying and he might even go when we were there.

The flight was great. We went first class. When we arrived there was a limo waiting that took us to a fancy room in an expensive hotel. I was surprised about the plane, the limo and the hotel but Mom wasn't.

"It's your grandfather's way," she said. "He can afford it."

She sounded bitter, and though I was curious about her comment, I left it at that. Grandpa was well off? I had never heard my parents say anything about that but I remembered that after his visits there were usually new things around the house: stove, fridge, a car once, our holiday trailer, and once we moved into a bigger house only weeks after he had stayed the whole time my Dad had gone on a fishing trip.

The room was something else, a very large and plush suite. I ran into Mom's back when she stopped in the bedroom doorway. Her only comment when I said I was sorry was, "What the hell is he up to?"

There was only one bed though it was huge. I guess that's what Mom was commenting about but I didn't see what it had to do with Grandpa. How would he know what kind of bed was in the room? Maybe these rooms only came with one huge bed.

"Don't worry Mom," I said, "I'll sleep on that big, puffy leather couch. I don't mind."

Mom looked distracted. She walked up to the bed, rolling her suitcase behind her, and sat down on the edge, bouncing on the mattress. "No, we'll both sleep here," she said quietly.

We had dinner in the fancy restaurant at the hotel. Mom dressed up in a really nice dress and matching shawl I had never seen before. I was surprised because it was the kind of thing you wear when you're with your husband on a romantic evening rather than with your son the night before visiting your dying father. I guess that's why she'd made me bring my sports jacket and dress slacks. I thought it was in case we ended up going to Grandpa's funeral.

Mom was subdued through dinner and surprised me when she insisted on staying longer for dessert and a fancy coffee but maybe she couldn't pass it up because everything was on the house. Anyway, since she spent a lot of time looking down at her plate, I was able to scrutinize her closely.

At first, I was just trying to 'see' what was bugging her and part of that was looking at the dress she was wearing which seemed so completely at odds with our situation. It was a very striking dress. Black, elegant, yet sexy. That jolted in my mind. Sexy.

There was no question about it that Mom looked stunning in that dress, especially when she removed the shawl after we sat down. Her arms were bare and the dress spread out from her shoulders to hang loosely over her breasts to join again below just above her navel, leaving the center of her chest wide open. I wondered if it was as daring in the back and imagined it probably was. The matching black felt collar with three embedded diamonds that graced her neck completed the aristocratically erotic gown.

Sensations ran through me that I shouldn't feel, not when looking at my mom, but I couldn't help it so I convinced myself I was just trying to understand why several of the nearby men kept discreetly glancing her way, though not so successfully that I didn't see a frown or two cross a partner's face. But even when the feelings grew strong enough to swell my favorite toy, the word 'Mom' popped into my mind. That should have killed my growing erection but it didn't. 'Why is she wearing that?' I thought, as if it was her fault I couldn't ignore the intriguing movements beneath her dress, or stop the equal reaction under my pants.

But my anger subsided as I continued to enjoy the visual sensations spreading through me on their tingly way down to my balls. When the check came, Mom directed the waiter to me with a nod of her head.

"Just sign it to our room," she said in response to my awkward reaction after the waiter left. When I finished signing, she said, "Can you get my chair?"

I jumped to my feet and whipped around to pull Mom's chair out. When she stood, she handed me her shawl, whispering that I should hold it out for her. I wrapped it around her shoulders when she turned her back into it.

The gown was cut low, low on her back. I walked closely behind Mom as we left the restaurant, not wanting anyone looking to see the bulge in my pants. Every man in the place turned to look at Mom as we left. It was a funny feeling. Though I was her son, I was proud to be the man that was leaving with this elegant, sexy woman. Even the desk staff watched her as we walked across the lobby to the elevators. Wow.

Inside the elevator, Mom waited until I punched the button, stepped close, and kissed me on my cheek. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, Nick."

It was strange behavior from my Mom, but I liked it, her treating me like a man instead of a boy. Mom stepped out ahead of me when the elevator opened on our floor, casually slipping the shawl off her shoulder and draping it over her arm as she walked ahead of me to our room. She didn't glance back, allowing my eyes roam over bare back, her legs, and yes, her bottom. I wished our room was a lot farther away as she sashayed down the hall, hips swaying and cheeks unable to hide their presence. At the door, without glancing back, she waited for me to catch up and slide the card through the slot.

In the room, Mom walked straight to the bedroom, and I followed. She dropped her small purse onto the table beside the bed and the shawl on the bed. She kept her back to me but turned her head to the side, facing the bed, and raised her hand, placing her index finger between her lips.

"I think it would be better if you did sleep on the couch tonight. Do you mind?"

"No no," I cried, overstressing that the couch was fine with me, trying to hide my disappointment lest it give away my illicit excitement, then kicking myself for suggesting the couch in the first place and simultaneously castigating my filthy mind for watching her bum as she entered the bedroom, imagining my rod pressed between its soft cheeks.

I grabbed my bag and took it out to the main room. The door closed softly behind me, and I didn't see Mom until the morning.

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Mom was fully dressed in her usual blouse and slacks when she woke me.

"I've ordered breakfast in the room," she said. "It should be here any minute. You should get dressed."

I tossed the blanket aside and sprang up, forgetting I was dressed in only my boxer shorts. Mom smiled at me and kind of laughed, before turning away. On the way to the bathroom I realized that I had forgotten my pants. Looking down, I was devastated to see I was sporting a big piss hard that had slipped through the slot in my shorts. I was too traumatized to go back for them.

Mom knocked on the door a minute later. "You forgot these," she said, opening the door a crack and handing my pants inside.

She was quiet over breakfast and remained so in the taxi to the private hospital where Grandpa was. Her gait slowed as we neared his room, almost to a standstill. I had to gently prod her back to move her to the door and then open it.

"There she is. There's my girl," a dim remnant of Grandpa's normally booming voice greeted us. "And Nick. I'm glad you came, son." Grandpa's hand grasped mine feebly. "Come closer, girl. Come now," he added when she didn't move, "you know its the last time."

Mom reluctantly stepped toward the bed but shied away when Grandpa dropped my hand to take hers. Reluctantly, she allowed him to hold her hand.

"You didn't wear what I asked," Grandpa said. A strange comment, I thought. Had he wanted her to wear something special, one of his gifts, perhaps?

"No." Mom's response was quiet, almost defiant.

"Well, then let's get right to it, shall we? Let's talk about the will. We both know it's the only reason you came." Grandpa paused, almost as if he wanted that to sink in. "I'm very sick, Gwen. I only have days left. You know I don't bullshit."

It looked like Mom was trying to pull her hand away but Grandpa held on, despite his feeble appearance.

"I'm going to give it to you, Gwen. All of it, but there are restrictions."

"More rules?" Mom almost spat those words out.

"Of course. You can't get away from them, Gwen. You'd think you'd know that by now." Grandpa laughed, a harsh laugh like you'd expect from the villain in a cartoon.

I didn't like this. This wasn't the Grandpa I knew.

"Did you have a nice dinner, Nick?" he turned his gaze to me.

I nodded.

"Food was good?"

I nodded again.

"Company good?"

I nodded again, looking confused and uncomfortable.

"Ah yes," Grandpa said, "like a fine wine. The best." He paused, looking at me intently. "She wore it for you, didn't she?" Grandpa looked at Mom and then back at me. "She did. Ahhh, I wish I could have seen that. Your mother is quite something. I envy you, but then, you should have seen her when she was young."

I really didn't like this exchange. I looked at Mom but she was expressionless, standing there as if she was waiting for something.

"I'm going to give her to you Nick," Grandpa said, a strange glint in his eye. "It's the best present you'll ever get."

Mom looked shocked, her eyes wide, mouth open.

"She's the best car I've ever owned and I want you to have it to remember me by."

Grandpa's cackling laugh was interrupted by a fit of coughing and Mom's mouth closed into that grim face that so often coincided with Grandpa's visits.

"The keys are there, on the table. Give them to the concierge at the hotel and they'll get it for you." Grandpa held his hand out. "Now, wait downstairs. I want to talk to your mother about the will."

I shook Grandpa's hand, emotion bringing tears to my eyes. I felt strange, backing away to the door, sensing no reciprocal emotion in Grandpa. Mom was looking down at the floor, and I sensed that they were both waiting for me to go, that there was unfinished business for them to address.

I left, walking downstairs, feeling empty.

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"A fine boy. You've done a fine job, Gwen."

"What would you know about being a parent?" my voice was sodden with contempt.

"You should know better than to expect remorse from me," my father said, "and you haven't been so innocent yourself."

I didn't answer. I waited, glaring, holding his eyes until he finally spoke.

"I've signed papers this afternoon." His eyes penetrated mine before he continued.

All the money will go to Nick, not a cent to you or that dickhead you live with."

He paused for emphasis, again. Spare me your drama, I thought. "Just get on with it," I said.

"The money will be delivered in installments once a day until its gone."

I could feel the dread spreading through me. Here it comes.

"I'll only release the money if I see something that interests me that day. If not, then that installment will go to your ex-husband."

He stopped, his words ringing in my ears, seeming to echo off the walls. He was watching me intently again, waiting. I could feel myself wobbling on my feet.

"What disgusting game have you dreamed up this time?" I asked.

"I only know the endgame, you're in charge of the details." His lips twisted into that crooked sneer I remembered so well.

"You'll stay until I die or the money's gone. Each morning you'll get a draft in Nick's name, or a message about your failure to amuse me, or my attorney's condolences on my passing. Nick's future depends on my eagerness to live to see the next day, and that depends on you." My so-called father laughed, a filthy sound that seven years hadn't managed to wipe from my memory.

"It's your choice, Gwen. You either play or you don't. Choose now. Do it or go."

The tension was so high. He waited, like he used to when he wanted an answer from me. It was almost unbearable but I moved toward him. 'For my son,' I thought, until I stood beside his bed. My hand moved to his chest and slowly dragged the covers over his stomach and beyond until they were at his bony knees, his skinny legs and wrinkly skin belying the strength of will he evidently still possessed.

Jerkily, my hand moved back the way it had come and stopped at his hip, a lifetime of hate making it hard for me to control its path. I raised my other hand, which had been hanging limply at my side, and laid it on his stomach, bunching his hospital gown inside my fist, dragging up his decrepit body. He was naked underneath. Sparse and scraggly white hair covered his groin and his ninety year old balls. It was quite a shock to see he could still manage a half erection, wrapped in liver spotted, grayish skin but not as big a shock to see my other hand slide over, as if it didn't belong to me, and grasp it. I began to work it in my hand, squeezing and releasing. Dad smiled as he hardened in my hand.

"That's it," he whispered.

I kept squeezing and releasing and when his old cock stiffened to full length, I began to move up and down, jacking him, twisting my fingers around his shaft.

The old practiced familiarity returned as I worked. My hand seemed to know just how to touch, when and where to squeeze, how hard to flick my thumb across the head at the top of a stroke. I lost track of time.

"All the way, Gwen. All or nothing. Do it. Do it."

I leaned forward and dropped my head, taking the old bastard's disgusting stick into my mouth.

"That's it," he cried, "that's it. All the way. All the way."

My head began bobbing up and down, faster and faster, keeping pace with his hoarse breathing. I paused at the top, hovering over his tip, tongue swirling around, his shaft below glistening with my saliva. Then I dropped quickly down until my lips hit his belly, engulfing his whole cock in my mouth. Old, filthy memories flashed in my mind, memories of sucking cock. His cock. My father's.

He was pushing his hips up now, trying to shove it into my face. It must have been all his frail old body could muster. I took it all, every thrust, kept working on him, building, pulling him along, completely focused. I'll win in the end, you bastard.

"Seven years," he gasped, "seven years!"

His body stiffened, lifting his hips as far off the bed as he could, his legs twitching as if he was having a fit. He was coming, filling my mouth with the bitter taste of his filthy old spunk, of my life. I took it all, like I always had, though it wasn't so much anymore.

I straightened up and backed away as he collapsed on the bed, not stopping until I felt the wall press against me. He flashed that gloating, satisfied look I remembered so well before turning to pull an envelope from the drawer in the table beside his bed.

"Here's cash if you need anything while you're here. Don't blow it all. Nick won't get any more unless you earn it, inside the hotel. If I can't see it, it's a waste."

I took the envelope from his scrawny hand.

"It won't be hard, Gwen. You already figured out that I'd give the money to Nick, didn't you? That's why you wore the dress," he sneered. "You don't have to stare at me if you want to see a piece of work, just look in the mirror."

I backed up to the door.

"If you'd come with me seven years ago you could have had it all. Now you have to make up for that."

I left, his laughter following me, almost throwing up as I stumbled down the hall. He always knew how to control me, and he'd always told me it was because I was just like him. But I'd worn the dress last night instead of today to spite him, not for Nick. I was sure I hadn't worn it for Nick.

In the elevator, I tore the envelope open -- $50,000 in cash tumbled to the floor.

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The ride back to the hotel was glum. Mom walked like a zombie up to the room. I sat down on the couch and turned the TV on. When I looked around to see what Mom was doing, she was still standing just inside the door. I jumped up and went to her.

"Mom, what's the matter?" I asked, my voice gentle but worried. When she didn't answer, I took her hand in mine and placed my palm flat on the small of her back, guiding her toward the bedroom. In the doorway, she stopped.

"I'm just tired, Nick. I think I'll lay down for awhile but don't let me sleep all night, I'd like to go out for dinner again." Her lips turned up in a slight smile as she raised her hand to my face and kissed me lightly on the cheek before walking slowly into the bedroom, turning to close the door but leaving it ajar a couple of inches.

She'd had a tough day. I wondered what had happened after I'd gone. They must have talked about things that happened in the past, about whatever made Mom so mad at him all these years. I guess it hadn't gone so well, just revived old memories.

I wanted to go down to check out the car but didn't want to leave Mom alone, so I ordered up a movie and watched it, one of the adult selections. Mom was still not up when it finished, so I walked quietly to the door to listen. I couldn't hear anything.

"Mom," I whispered, then again when there was no answer. I pushed the door open another foot and stepped stealthily inside, being careful not to startle her if she was still sleeping. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mom's pumps were on the floor in front of me, about three feet apart where she'd kicked them off her feet. Ahead of them lay her black slacks in a pile at the foot of the bed. And there, on the bed, her head buried under a pillow pulled over her head, lay Mom. She was on top of the covers though it looked like she'd made a half-hearted attempt to pull them down and quit, satisfied with just unearthing the pillows.

Her shoulder emerged from under those pillows, covered by her white shirt which extended down to her hips and up over her buttocks, ending in the flap that rested lightly over her bottom with just a hint of her panties peeking out underneath between the narrow slot of her legs.

I was about to whisper her name again, but stopped. I wondered if I'd actually spoken because she moved just as the thought surged in my mind, her right knee sliding up along the mattress, opening her legs and pulling the flap of her shirt higher to reveal more of her panties, a garden of pink dots sprinkled over two gentle, white hills.

My feet were rooted to the carpet. I could see the pink polka dots falling down like a waterfall between her legs, covering terrain whose unevenness somehow fascinated me, stirring a reaction in a similar area of my own body. I had to struggle to breathe, somehow finding it difficult, worrying that the long and sharp inhalation would wake her.

I stood rock still for several minutes, eyes running up and down her bare legs but spending most of their time on her panties, or more accurately, on what I knew to lie underneath. I thought I could discern the outline of her pussy, or at least the start of it. I didn't realize that my cock had swelled until her hips moved, just the slightest rise, probably no more than half an inch. But it changed the lay of the land that was the focus of my attention and my dick suddenly strained against my pants as it tried to straighten itself.

Less than a minute later, Mom's hips moved again, the same way. I waited, holding my breath, staring. There! She did it again, sooner this time. My eyes were riveted on the part of her panties stretching between her legs, positive that I could see the outline of her secret place in that super brief second when her hips were lifted.

I could, I could. Her hips were lifting about every fifteen seconds now, and getting more frequent. She must be dreaming. My boner was killing me, threatening to snap. I risked missing something, diverting some of my attention to reaching inside my pants to pull it straight. By the time I pulled the head up, Mom was moving almost steadily, a micro lift up, a pause, and then the drop down to the mattress.

Seconds later, she was in constant motion but I don't know how many rises and falls went by before I noticed that something new had been achieved, the four movement symphony. The rise, pause, drop and, push down into the mattress. As I watched, the push slowly became the segment with the longest duration.

I nearly fell back on my ass when Mom's right leg suddenly straightened almost back to its original position. Her left leg moved out to compensate but didn't bend. Both legs were now straight but open, describing about a forty degree angle. Her feet were flat to the mattress, heels inside and toes pointing out. Tracing her legs back to her scrunching bottom, I was thrilled to see it rising a couple of inches from the bed and digging in farther, her hips making a tiny twisting grind before rising almost immediately again.

She must be dreaming, about fucking. God this was so hot. My hand was rubbing my pants, concentrating on the part where head was. Look at her ass, moving up and down, christ. I could almost feel it, feel my cock pushing against it, feel it rising up to meet me. Christ! I could hear her breathing, fast, like tiny gasps.

I came. Jesus. I was spurting up inside my shirt, making a mess all over my stomach. My hips finally stopped jerking against my hand. She was still moving and breathing even faster. God. What if she woke up? If she turned, I'd be caught.

I forced myself to back up, step by step, loathe to leave. Finally, I slipped through the door and carefully pulled it back to its original position. I ran to get clean boxers and pants from my bag and then to the bathroom for a shower.

I was back pretending to watch the TV when Mom wandered groggily into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes and then trying to straighten her disheveled chestnut hair, flipping it away from her face to fall on her shoulders.

"Nick, you should have woke me up," she complained.

"You needed to rest, Mom," I kept looking at the TV, afraid if I she saw my eyes she'd know that I had violated her privacy, invaded her body with my dirty mind. Waves of guilt flooded through me.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Mom was standing behind me. She leaned down and kissed me, her soft hair falling over my head, her slightly damp lips grazing past my ear before landing on my cheek.

"Hungry?" she whispered, still leaning over.

A huge picture of her turbulent polka dotted panties zoomed in to fill my vision. The way she'd whispered that word.

"Yeah," I finally forced out.

"Me too. I'll have a quick shower and then we can get some dinner."

She straightened and tousled my hair. I turned to watch her walk back to her room. My god, she'd come in the way she was. I stared as she walked slowly away, dressed only in her shirt, her beautiful legs stretching down to the floor, muscles tensing with each step as if it required effort to move her forward. She paused before entering the bedroom, but thankfully, she didn't look back.

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When Mom stepped back into the room, she was casually dressed in a black leather coat and tight jeans topped by a white blouse, the kind that fits a woman's body tightly leaving the top and inside of her breasts available for admiring glances. She chuckled when she saw me standing there in my sports jacket, ready for another visit to the fancy restaurant downstairs.

"Let's go somewhere more fun tonight," she said, walking over to me. "Go put some jeans on."

Mom asked for directions downstairs which she passed on to the cab driver, who took us to an area of town swirling with young people entering and exiting, and lining up at restaurants, pubs and clubs. We found one and had a great dinner. I didn't ask Mom about her talk with Grandpa and she didn't bring it up. In fact, she seemed intent on having a good time. It wasn't like being with my mother at all.

She wanted to walk after dinner and insisted on lining up at a club on the recommendation of a couple of girls she exchanged a few words with as we passed by. When we got in, they asked us to join them. We had several drinks and I was feeling pretty good, what with the two beers I'd had at dinner. Good enough to dance. The two girls kept taking turns hauling me up and then insisted that Mom take me out for a spin.

It was like I was with three young women. The girls were asked lots and danced most of the time but refused invitations to join other tables or to allow anyone to join us. Mom was asked and danced a couple of times too. She laughed about that, telling the girls these guys must be drunk or desperate, or both.

"Are you kidding?" Leila said, I think that was her name, "You're hot."

Mom laughed again when Lianne agreed, casting her eyes toward me in an approving and congratulatory nod but she turned her gaze back to Mom and I noticed her eyes move appreciatively over her body, the leather jacket had long been tossed on the booth bench. I had the feeling these girls played on more than one team.

Mom leaned against me a few minutes later, her warm thigh sending tingles up my leg. "Wouldn't you like to keep partying with these girls?" she asked, nodding her eyes at their charms. "You can, you know. I don't mind sleeping on the couch if you want to ask them up. They're exciting young women."

Whoa. Did I hear right? Mom was offering to let me bring these two 'home', and stay out of the way if I wanted to do them? In my drunken haze, I declined, saying that I was already with an exciting woman. But Mom didn't seem to think it an odd thing to say. She just grinned, seemingly quite pleased by my response.

Lianne chirped in, I guess she had awesome hearing, "A little spice might be nice," she said, her eyes engaging Mom's. "A sprinkle of blonde and a dash of red with the regular mix," she made reference to her and Leila's hair color."

Clearly, Lianne hadn't clued in to our real relationship, thinking that Mom was in a relationship with a very young man and was offering to let him play with some women his own age.

Mom looked suddenly wary. "No," she replied, I think we'll spend tonight together."

"Maybe another time, later this week, it you're still in town?" Leila joined the conversation.

"Sure," Mom said.

We stayed for another hour. Leila and Lianne were quite tuned up by then but not so far that Lianne didn't forget to give Mom a card with her number on it. We caught a cab back to the hotel.

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Mom seemed tipsier outside than she was in the club. Perhaps because of the fresh air. I know that happened to me once in a while. She seemed to sober up in the cab and was fine entering the hotel but deteriorated in the elevator, leaning against me as we walked to our room. I didn't mind. After our time at the club it seemed natural to slip my arm around her waist, my hand holding her just below her breasts.

"Should we watch a movie," I asked her, not wanting the evening to end.

"No, I think I'd just fall asleep in your arms," Mom declined.

I couldn't see any problem with that. What was that? She assumed that if we watched a movie, she'd lay in my arms?

"Why don't you run me a nice hot bath for me instead? I'd really appreciate that."

"Sure, Mom."

I walked her to the bedroom, my arm still wrapped around her waist, turned her around and sat her down on the end of the bed and then quickly ran into the bathroom to start the tub. Running back, I found her still sitting there, fully dressed.

"Help me off with these," she slurred her words slightly, holding one booted foot up to me.

I knelt on the floor before her and pulled the soft leather boot off, then the other when she offered that foot. Mom fumbled with the button on her jeans, laying back on the bed when she couldn't loosen it.

"Pull these off too," she laughed. "I'll never be able to do it myself."

I reached up to fumble around her waist, trying to figure out how to undo her jeans, eventually succeeding. I slipped my fingers into her pockets and gently tugged, trying to pull them off her hips. I had to move my grip from front to back, slowly working the tight jeans over her hips, finally reaching the point where I could tug them down to her knees and then off.

What to do now? There was only the tight blouse and her panties which had come down a bit with the jeans. Mom was laying back on the bed, her eyes closed. I looked at her panties. They were all white and were smaller than the ones she had on this afternoon.

"Mom, did you want to just go to bed?" I whispered.

Her eyes opened. "And miss out on a special bath? No way," she laughed. "You go watch the water I'll be right in."

My back was to the door when Mom walked in, the tub almost full. The bathroom was steamy from the heat of the water.

"I'll leave as soon as its full then you can finish getting undressed and in the tub Mom," I said when I heard her, surprised when her leg lifted over the edge of the tub beside me and stepped into the water, slowly, to accommodate to the hot water.

"Oh, that's perfect," Mom sighed.

I kept my eyes averted as she stepped in with the other foot. I didn't want her to catch me looking up as she removed her towel. I was about to turn my head away when she suddenly sat down in the water in front of me, naked, no towel in sight. Her knees were drawn up, with her arms stretched over them so I couldn't really see anything. Still, she was bare naked.

Once she was in, she held her hand out. Slowly, I realized she wanted soap and I scrambled to get some for her, handing it and one of those round sponges to her, and then turned to leave. Mom's hand grabbed mine.

"Stay," she whispered.

I kneeled on the floor, looking down, and waited for Mom to start washing herself but she just sat there. After a minute, she lay her head back and stretched her feet out. I couldn't leave. I looked at her body and realized how well she had aged. I new she looked a lot younger than her years but her body was younger still.

I picked up the soap and began rubbing it up and down Mom's arm. She sighed, and her body visibly relaxed. I started soaping her in earnest, finishing her arm, doing the other. All around her neck and shoulders, leaning her forward to do her lower back, then moving to do her legs, lifting her feet up and soaping them too, carefully cleaning between each toe.

I was about to stand and leave when Mom's hand reached out once more to stop me. With her other hand, she placed the bar of soap at the top of her breasts and waited, holding me, stopping me from leaving. I moved my hand to hers, the one holding the soap, and took it, allowing her hand to fall away. I began moving the soap across her chest above her breasts. Soon, my hands moved lower, washing the sides of her breasts, between and underneath but not cupping them or straying near her nipples. I washed her tummy moving my hand in circles but didn't venture too low.

I traced my hand up her neck to her face and worked my fingers gently all around her mouth and nose, across her forehead and back to her cheeks and chin. I scooped water into my hand and gently dripped in on her face to wash the soap away. When I was finished, I leaned over and kissed her, on the forehead, and on her closed eyelids. I stood up.

"I'm going to order a midnight snack," I whispered. "Any special requests?"

Mom hadn't opened her eyes since sinking into the water.

"No," she replied. "Do you wish you'd asked them back?"

"No way," I answered. "I wouldn't have traded this for anything in the world."

Mom smiled, her eyes still closed. "You're just being sweet."

I looked down at her, not wanting to leave but feeling I needed to before I did something to ruin this special moment.

"Take your time, Mom. There's no rush."

Before I turned to go, Mom slowly stretched her legs out, moving her feet apart to touch each side of the large tub. I could see her brown pubic hair waving in the water. I left before I couldn't.

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It wasn't long before Mom walked into the main room where I was having a drink waiting for her with the snacks room service had just brought up. She had a towel wrapped around her head and another tucked around her body, like a very short dress that threatened to come undone.

"Did you pour me one?"

"Sorry," I apologized and got up to make her one too. Mom asked me to set the drink down on the table beside me, removed the towel and dried her hair, standing in front of me. That feeling was returning, the one I'd felt the night before, appreciating the new way she was treating me. It was a simple act, drying her hair, but wearing just a towel, it was something she would never have done before. It was such a normal thing yet strangely exciting.

I watched her as I sipped my drink. I wasn't uncomfortable, for a change, I don't know why. Mom was purposely bending over in front of me, facing sideways, letting her hair fall toward the floor as she rubbed it dry. She asked me to feel it a couple of times, to see if it was almost dry. I loved that, her asking me to touch her hair, to run my fingers through it, such a natural yet intimate request.

Mom sat beside me when she finished drying her hair. I passed her drink to her and we just sat there, sipping our drinks, not talking. I wondered if she wanted to talk about Grandpa but didn't want to be the first to bring it up. I turned to look at her. She kept looking forward, into the distance, letting me watch. It was the first time I'd sat next to a woman so intensely feminine.

"I'm glad," she abruptly broke the silence. "I'm glad you didn't ask those girls back."

She turned to hand me her drink which was still almost full. "Shall we go to bed?"

She stood up, waiting for me to set the drinks down.

"Come on," she beckoned, holding her hand out. "You're not wrecking your back on this couch tonight."

Mom led me to the bedroom, moving slowly. My mind was numb, thinking only about how smooth her skin was. She led me into the room, then turned and said, "We forgot to turn out the lights."

I left to turn the lights out but, as chance would have it, returned just in time to catch Mom standing beside the bed, silhouetted by the bathroom light behind her, removing her towel and dropping it before slipping into bed.

I paused before coming in so she didn't think I'd caught her nude. I'm not sure why, since she'd let me see her naked in the bath, but that's what I did. I turned out the light in the bathroom, undressed, and slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed, nude as well.

"Goodnight sweetheart," Mom whispered.

"Goodnight Mom."

I had a hard time falling asleep but Mom didn't. She was quiet and still for some time, as if she wasn't even there. Then, I heard her breathing, deep and even, indicating that she had indeed fallen asleep. I couldn't see because it was still too dark but she definitely seemed to be sleeping. I knew it would be a while before I did too, knowing she was naked under the covers had chased any possibility of sleep from my mind.

I turned on my side, facing Mom. She was too far away on this king size bed to accidentally make contact and since I'd turned out the bathroom light, something I now regretted, I wasn't likely to enjoy any visual stimulation should she push the covers off. Oh, well. Images of her played through my mind, dinner in that fantastic dress and walking behind her down the hall to our room, seeing her interact with those girls and how she had intrigued Lianne, laying in the bath and afterward, leaning over to dry her hair in front of me.

This was the wrong thing to do. It was just making me hard. I tried not to think about her, and the fact she was two feet away, all soft and naked. But I couldn't. I kept thinking, imagining situations where Mom would suddenly realize how much she needed me, as a man.

Letting my imagination run loose worked because I woke up much later. It was still dark. I lay on my back, letting my eyes acclimatize. It wasn't long before I could see. I guess if I'd waited long enough I would have been able to see Mom earlier. I turned to see if the covers had slipped off, but they hadn't. Mom was laying at an angle, her head farther away from me. Perhaps that tiny bit of activity sparked my brain into a higher level of functioning because it was only then that I noticed that Mom's feet were laying across mine.

Her skin was soft on the back of her leg just below the calf muscle. It was just simple contact between our lower legs but the sensations sparking up my legs were electric, to use a corny description. Right away, my boner returned, pushing up against the covers. I moved my legs slightly, just to feel them rub against her softness, and then turned onto my side, slowly, so I didn't wake her. I was now facing her, her right leg between mine, and her left laying on top of my right. If felt better with her legs touching the sides of my calves instead of the bony front of mine.

I edged closer, trying to work my legs higher on hers, succeeding until I reached her knees but unable to progress further. I had slipped my arm from beneath the covers as I twisted on my side to keep the covers from moving. In the dim light it looked like the covers had pulled away from Mom's neck. I strained to see better. Carefully, I pulled the covers toward me and down, ever so slowly so Mom wouldn't feel it. Tugging steadily, I slid the covers away until their edge dragged up and over her breasts, stopping just over the crest, leaving her tits bare.

I stopped and lay there luxuriating in the feel of her legs and the sight of her shadowy breasts, trying desperately to wring every ounce of light from that darkened room and focus it on her chest. I could see well enough to discern her nipples, impressed by their size and wondering what they'd be like if she was excited, if someone was sucking them.

She startled me then, suddenly sucking her breath in and holding it before letting it out. I closed my eyes in case she opened hers, ready to pretend that I was asleep and unaware that her chest was bare. But her breathing only quickened, so I opened my eyes. She was laying the same way but her breasts were rising and falling with her rapid breathing. I felt her legs tense on mine followed by small movements of her hips. She was moving like she had this afternoon. She must be dreaming about sex again.

For several minutes, I watched Mom's breasts heave and her hips buck in tiny movements, feeling her legs tense and release as her hips moved up and down. Her hands moved down near the end, to touch herself, I guess. I couldn't see, but the movement made her arms squeeze her tits together, pushing them up, her nipples stabbing up in the night, longer, stiffer. She was almost moaning, lifting herself into her hands. Finally, a long gasp and she was still.

Her breathing returned almost to normal as she lay there, her legs parted. I could easily have slid my right knee way up between her legs, right up to nudge her pussy if I dared. But I didn't. After a long while, when I was sure she was sleeping, I withdrew my legs, turned around, and went to sleep.

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A striking woman in a dark gray business suit sat in wingback chair next to me in the lobby. She set an envelope down on the highly polished table between us, followed by a headset and something that looked like a memory stick. Seeing my confusion, she picked up the headset and plugged it into the memory stick, let her thumb hover over the raised control near the top of one end until I nodded, and passed both into my hands. Then she left. I inserted one earpiece and pressed the button. Father's voice snaked into my head.

"Very good. Not much action, but I loved it. Took me back years. How you dangled that little pussy of yours in front of me just to keep me at home with that bitch mother of yours. Was it because you didn't want to be poor? Did you think she'd outlive me because she was so much younger, that you'd end up with my money?"

A bout of harsh coughing was followed by a noisy, painful throat clearing.

"All those years. You really were talented, Gwen, a truly great fuck."

His disgusting laugh disintegrated into another bout of coughing. I waited for it to end, well-dressed people wandering by, some chatting and laughing to each other, others busily intent on their business, one or two glancing at the early forties woman sitting alone listening to her music.

"It must rip you apart to know you did it for nothing. How much you debased yourself, even if you really did do it for your dear sweet mother."

This time, the laughter wasn't interrupted by coughing.

"Anyway. I liked it. The envelope will show you how much. Keep it up. It'll get better, much better. As you do."

The recording stopped.

I sat there, my fingers digging into the chair. I don't know how long but a hotel employee bent over in front of me,

"Are you alright? Can I be of any assistance?"

Flustered, I jumped up, "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

I rushed away and reached the elevators before the man caught up with me.

"Is this yours? It was on the table beside you."

He held the envelope out to me.

"Thank you," I smiled as best I could, then stepped inside the elevator which opened just then.

I opened the envelope carefully this time though it was too thin to hold much money. There was a bank draft inside made out to Nick, for half a million dollars. I almost fell down.

Relief swept through me. We could go. Half a million dollars! So I had to give the bastard one more blow job. So what. This and the fifty thousand cash was all we needed. We could just go. Elation burst throughout my body. I could hardly wait for the door to open when the elevator stopped, almost tripping as I rushed to our room and burst through the door, eager to give Nick the news.

Nick wasn't there, and I panicked for a brief moment until I heard the shower. Relief again. If that old prick harmed my son ...

The shower stopped. I wandered over to the window and looked out.

"Mom," Nick's voice startled me. Turning around, I saw Nick holding a towel around himself, evidently surprised to see me. "I was just going to have some breakfast. I didn't know ..."

"Let's have a big one," I said cheerily, "and then go for a drive in your new car.

Nick nodded, smiling at the mention of his new car, and then nodding with more enthusiasm. "Is that insurance for the car?" he indicated the envelope I was still holding in my hand.

"No, it's nothing," I said. "Go on, get dressed. I'll order breakfast."

One more day I thought. If I led Nick on, maybe my father would give us another half million, or even more. It may be worth stringing him along even longer. I could explain things to Nick after we got away from here. A million dollars would surely help him understand. He'd just be confused for one day. I couldn't tell Nick until after because the cagey old coot would smell it a mile away but I knew I could fool him because he already wanted to believe it, that I'd do my own son for money.

I laughed at that. Why wouldn't he? Nick was a good looking guy. I tucked the envelope back into my purse.

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We had a wonderful time driving around all afternoon. Nick loved the old car. We put the top down and wandered through town, touring the upscale neighborhoods before finding an older two lane highway that wound through the hills to a small town that could have existed in a time warp from fifty years ago.

By the time we got there, Nick had long noted the breezy summer shift I had chosen for the drive. I spent a long time with my arms up tying a scarf to hold my hair in place, a very old girl trick. Though I had first used my hands to press the loose skirt close around my legs, I soon 'forgot' and allowed it to billow up, flapping against my tummy several times before pressing it down, eventually giving up and letting it settle down high on my thighs. I spent a lot of time looking at the countryside on my side of the car so Nick could appreciate my legs. I was very thankful for all the time I'd spent on that incline trainer in the basement.

Once, as Nick slowed to drive through a particularly windy section, I kicked off my sandals and raised my legs to put my feet on the dash. I think Nick was torn between letting me potentially mark his new pride and joy and losing a wonderful display of his mother's legs. He chose the latter. I pretended to be shocked at myself for being so improper, lowering my legs and smoothing the skirt tightly around my thighs, but I allowed it to ride higher as we entered the little village, insisting we stop for some ice cream.

I was having such a good time with Nick. I didn't act like his mother and didn't say motherly things. We were like two people, a man and a woman, out on a date. When we pulled into a little roadside diner -- we couldn't see a Dairy Queen -- Nick ran around the car to open my door. I rewarded him with a great flash, seeming to get stuck just after I swung my legs around so he could have a longer look right up to my panties. I'm pretty sure his pants weren't normally that prominent, and I had a pretty close look as he pulled me to my feet.

We had hot apple pie a la mode with tea. Expressing regret at eating so much, I slowed my pace and held my tummy. Nick came to the rescue, stretching his arm around my waist, his hand on my hip, helping me step down the few steps to the parking lot. Of course, he held my hand as I struggled awkwardly to sit in the car and once inside, rescued me again when I had difficulty putting my seatbelt on. After he got it to click in, he had to rearrange the belt for me because it didn't feel comfortable, that is, until he threaded it between my breasts. I surprised him with a quick kiss on his lips to thank him for his help.

He invited me to put my feet up on the way home if it made me more comfortable. I smiled in satisfaction, gratified that my old legs could still induce a young man as handsome as Nick to manipulate a situation just to see them. I put my legs on display and admired the countryside again. After a while I dropped my feet and turned toward Nick, stretching my right foot out to rest on the hump below the radio, bent my left leg so I could put my knee up on the seat and laid back against the door before closing my eyes for a little nap. I made sure my skirt was held back so my panties were visible and stayed like that until Nick warned me that we were near the hotel. I guess he didn't want anyone else to see so much of his mother. Dear boy.

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Mom fell asleep on our first drive in my new car, Grandpa's old 59 Chrysler Imperial Crown convertible -- ragtop is too disrespectful to describe this car. When I first saw the car I fell in love with it but when I opened the hood and looked at the humongous engine, a 413 cubic inch V8, I knew I couldn't afford to move it. But Mom said the car came with free gas for a year and not to worry about it.

Anyway, the car was so comfortable to ride in Mom fell asleep. Not that I minded. She had propped herself against the door and looked fantastic with one bent leg on the seat and the other stretched straight out taking advantage of the huge leg space in this car. With the wind flapping around, Mom had given up on keeping her skirt down so I had quite a show and could even see her panties. I guess if she'd known it was a convertible she would have worn a different dress.

Back in the hotel room, apartment really, Mom talked me into a late dinner, insisting she have a quick bath and time to do her nails before going downstairs. Ten minutes later, she called me into the bathroom. I hesitated near the door while she convinced me that we should order in rather than going out. Mom insisted that I bring the room service menu and that I stay by her side while she made her selections.

"Don't be shy, we're family," she dismissed my nervous awkwardness.

For the second time in as many days I was able to leisurely browse the contours of Mom's naked body, peeking past the menu that sometimes blocked my view of her breasts to focus on her light brown pubic hair wafting with the slight movement of the bathwater.

Not long after I put in our order, a veritable feast complete with a half dozen bottles of expensive wine that was far superior to the inroom stock, Mom wandered out in one of the hotel bathrobes carrying toenail polish with her. I was watching an action movie and she sat at the other end of the couch, her foot tucked in to rest on its edge so she could apply the polish to her toes.

Though I was disappointed that Mom hadn't just worn her nightgown -- after all, we were family -- I realized that room service would be up soon and that maybe she'd doff the robe after dinner. Mom sighed a few times as she worked, having a little difficulty comfortably reaching her toes. She ended up turning to sit sideways on the couch and placing her feet in front of her, almost to my leg. She didn't seem to be worried about getting polish on the black leather couch, which would have been of concern at home.

"Do you think you could do this for me, sweetie? I don't bend as easily as I used to."

I turned to look at Mom, sitting there with a very cute 'please help me expression' on her face, holding a bottle of polish in one hand and the applicator in the other.

"I don't know, Mom," I said, glancing down at her feet, then back up along her legs demurely held close together until I reached her face which she had now rested on her knees.

"Please?"

"But I'll probably mess them up," I complained, not sure why I was trying to talk her out of letting me touch her.

"They're just toes," Mom dismissed my objection. "Come on, help me out."

"But what if I spill on the couch?" I raised another problem which she also summarily dismissed.

"Don't worry about the couch."

I took the polish and the applicator and considered where to start as Mom adjusted a pillow behind her and leaned back, closing her eyes to rest.

"Ahhh, this is the life," she said, a pleased grin spreading across her face.

I dabbed the polish on a toe and carefully spread it around on her nail. For all her fussing about, Mom had only painted one toe. As I started the third toe, Mom's knee swayed over to rest against the back of the couch opening a narrow window through which I could admire the inside of her right leg, from her ankle up to her knee and down again along her thigh until it became too dark to see. Despite having been able to see her bare breasts and even her pubic hair, this casual, illicit exposure still caused a stir in my groin, perhaps aided by the fact that I was touching her and perhaps because of the memories flooding my mind of Mom's legs this afternoon.

I was working on her other foot at the same time. I put the nail polish down on the table and used my left hand to grasp Mom's ankle.

"Keep your foot still or I'll make a mess," I cautioned her.

She didn't respond. The grin had been replaced by a calm, pleasant look. I resumed my delicate treatment of her toenail but soon exerted pressure on her ankle, pushing her leg just slightly outward, away from the back of the couch and her other leg. Yes. Additional light landed on the inside of Mom's right thigh, enough that I could see where her leg first broadened in its flare toward her hip. Another nudge and I could see several inches past that to a curiously uneven edge where I was expecting the clean crease between thigh and pelvis.

Hair? I craned my neck and strained my eyes. Yes, I was sure. It was hair, pubic hair. My cock stiffened. This wasn't wavy, watery hair swaying about like reeds in the sea. This was a thatch of pussy hair, and if I could urge her leg yet further, I would have a full frontal view of Mom's bare pussy for I was now certain she wore neither nightgown or panties. Could I risk such an obvious move?

Of course. How could I not? I finished the toe I was working on and another, just to put enough distance from my last nudge. Then, as I started the last toe on that foot, the big one, I slid my hand above Mom's ankle to the start of her calf muscle while pressuring her leg out, very slightly, hoping the movement of my hand would cover the real movement I sought.

Vunderbar. Like opening a door wider, the light crept toward and past Mom's bare pussy, highlighting it in the center of a precious slot of illumination. Like a piece of art, her bright womanhood was surrounded by a ring of light brown hair which in turn faded into dark oblivion. In fact, there was no need for artificial means to focus my attention there. I almost gave myself away by stopping work on her toe but a slight movement of her head prompted me into action again.

A knock on the door shattered my reverie. Our meal was here.

I returned the applicator to the bottle of polish and struggled to my feet. I looked back at Mom on my way to the door just in time to see her close her legs. Was that just a natural movement, or was she knowingly assuming a more innocent posture because someone else was about to enter the room?

I kept thinking about that little movement while we ate dinner. Mom was very free with the wine, excellent wine that went down easily. By the time we finished dinner we were on the second bottle. While I retrieved dessert from the cart, Mom began browsing the movie listings.

"Let's watch something naughty," she said, selecting the adult video option.

As we ate dessert and polished off the second bottle of wine, Mom browsed through the selections, laughing at the descriptions for each one. She took longer to read one about mature women and wasn't so laughingly critical about it but when she came across one called 'Forbidden Afternoons: Naughty Moms Help Sons With Homework' she didn't laugh at all. She quickly exited to continue browsing, telling me to open another bottle of wine.

I got up to retrieve another bottle from the cart and saw that Mom had returned to the mom movie. She exited it quickly again when I brought the bottle back to fill our glasses but returned while I was pouring. She was reading intently as I handed the glass to her and sat down.

"Doesn't this look silly?" she said. "Of all things." She laughed nervously, but didn't exit the selection this time. "What do you think?" she asked, not looking at me.

I didn't reply, wanting to watch it but not sure that I wanted to with Mom.

"What the heck, it's probably really funny." She pushed the button, confirmed the charge, and dropped the remote on the floor beside her.

Mom did laugh through the first episode, at how contrived the situation was and how quickly the 'mother' absolutely had to fulfill her son's desires. It was kind of comical. Mom began holding her glass out for me to clink every time something happened that she thought was particulary ridiculous. Eventually, I moved to sit on the middle cushion to make it easier for us to clink glasses.

Mom was quiet during the sex scene and didn't interact with me until it was over. During the next episode I noticed that Mom's robe had loosened allowing me to glimpse her assets while her attention was fixed on the movie. I peeked after each clink and enjoyed the movement of her breasts under the robe when she laughed. My view improved each time she raised her hand to sip her wine. It was one thing to see her naked in the bath but this, and doing her nails, was so much sexier because I was sure she was purposely letting me peek, allowing me enjoy her as a woman and not a mother, the way she had that first night at dinner.

In the third episode, the mother teased her son by doing her toenails while he sat on the floor leaning back against a chair watching as his mother worked away, her feet on the edge of the couch. She kept asking his opinion on how they looked and even got him to do her last toe. Mom was again quiet and even seemed to be uncomfortable. When the explicit action started on the screen she drew my attention away from the screen, glancing down to examine her own feet.

"That reminds me," she said, the discomfort if any no longer present, "what were you doing when you did my big toe? It's a mess."

I was only too happy to talk about Mom's feet. If the movie wasn't making her uncomfortable, it was certainly agitating me and discussing her feet was a welcome opportunity to ignore the movie, and particularly this especially relevant scene.

"See?"

Mom swung her feet toward me, setting them both down on the couch between us. I examined her foot and the smudgy mess that I'd made of her big toe, my face flushing I realized I had buggered it up because I was distracted by the shaft of light illuminating her pussy just before the arrival of room service. My face reddened more as I tried to stop the flushing, convinced it made me look guilty of sneaking peeks at her pussy.

"Were you watching the TV while I was napping instead of concentrating on my toes?" Mom teased and let me off the hook at the same time.

"Sorry Mom, " I mumbled, seeking to substantiate the alibi she'd provided.

"Well, then you're just going to have to fix it and finish the others." Mom's voice was commanding but teasing at the same time. "Come on, clean it off. Use the clear stuff," she pointed to the remover.

"Come on," she stretched one foot out to tap it against my thigh, "get started."

I picked up a cotton ball and the remover and opened it, ready to clean the polish off her toenail.

"Oh, I see you know what you're doing," Mom continued, still teasing.

I nodded, eager to get out of her bad books even if she was stringing me along.

"So you must have been looking at something else then," she smiled sweetly.

"No Mom, I ... uh," my face went red again.

"Shhhh," Mom comforted me, "just fix my feet for me. Keep your eye on what you're doing this time. No TV. Especially that naughty stuff," she laughed. "I don't want you getting ideas with all that wine in you," she laughed and laid back, closing her eyes like before.

I soaked the cotton ball in the remover and started rubbing it on her toenail. Mom's eyes popped open.

"Careful, you don't want to get that on the couch, it will stain." Mother was back. "Move closer and put my foot in your lap. Take your jeans off, we don't want to ruin them either. Come on," she added when I hesitated, "we're all family here."

I handed the stuff to Mom, stood and dropped my jeans, trying to hide myself. It was embarrassing because I obviously had a hardon on but Mom didn't comment or even seem to notice. I sat quickly and she handed the stuff back to me, leaning back and closing her eyes again, her foot searching for my lap. I picked her foot up and slid underneath, setting it down on my legs near my knee. Nervously, I started cleaning the toenail.

"Take your time and do a good job this time," she said.

I nodded, though Mom's eyes were closed.

The movie ended by the time I cleaned the polish off Mom's big toe. I completely missed the last scene. So did Mom. As I leaned over her foot to trade the remover for the polish, she picked up the remote and started the movie over again.

"I missed that," she said.

Great. Now I had to paint her nails with her foot in my lap near my cock which I couldn't convince to soften up, while watching a porn movie about sons having it off with their mothers.

As I applied the first dab of polish, Mom stretched her right foot out, the one closest to the back of the couch, and placed it in my lap too, between her other foot and my stiffy. I glanced sharply at her but her eyes were closed, a slight smile sitting comfortably on her face as she wriggled her foot, digging her heel into the crease between my thighs.

This was such an incredible situation. My wine-hazed eyes trailed down Mom's body, along her legs which were bare below the knees because her robe had parted, to her feet. I looked at the TV in time to see a young man kiss and caress the breast of an older woman, supposedly his mother. Mom's foot wiggled in my lap. She was looking at me.

"Don't watch. Do toes." She closed her eyes again.

Berated, I applied the polish, slowly and carefully, as per her instructions.

Mom seemed to be napping but I knew she wasn't. She was listening to the movie and so was I, though I rarely looked up, not wanting to get caught again. The situation was truly bizarre. I was putting nail polish on my mother, naked under her bathrobe, her foot resting in my lap no more than an inch from my boner which was bent uncomfortably inside my jockey shorts, while we both listened to the sounds of a porn movie son preparing to fuck his movie mom. I couldn't help getting hornier and hornier, or to stop my breathing from coming in shorter and shorter breaths.

Mom leaned her right leg against the back of the couch to rest in a more comfortable position, causing her foot to twist toward my crotch and directly contact the bulge in my jockey shorts. Her touch sent shock waves through me and my cock throbbed. She must have felt it against the top of her foot, but she didn't pull away. If anything, she dug her heel further into my right thigh, applying more pressure against my shorts.

I chanced a look at the screen. The son had removed the mom's blouse and was sucking her breasts, one of his hands reaching under her skirt as they leaned against a counter while a man, supposedly the father, was visible pushing a lawnmower around the backyard. Looking down, I realized that I had finished Mom's toe so I began applying polish to the big toe of her other foot, the one nestling against my undershorts. Mom's face had turned toward the TV but I couldn't tell if her eyes were completely shut or not. The sounds made it pretty obvious what was going on. I turned my attention back to my work.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom's hands slip down and undo the belt of her robe, letting it fall to either side. When I leaned over to replenish the applicator, my crotch pressed against Mom's foot and as I leaned back her foot followed, maintaining tight contact with my genitals. Just as I was about to touch the brush to her nail, she rubbed her foot back and forth against me. My cock leapt against her, begging for more.

"Stay still, Mom, or I'll make a mess." My upset voice belied the joy I felt.

"I'm sure you will," Mom laughed softly.

I was stunned. She was making fun of this, making a joke about me coming? I knew she wasn't talking about the polish.

"If you make a mess, you'll have to start over," Mom rubbed her foot across me again.

"Keep still," I admonished her.

"Alright fussbudget," she said.

I had to wait while she twisted over to get her wine glass and lifted her head to take three small sips before putting it back on the table.

"Alright, I'll be a good Mom now."

I started work on her toenail again but glanced at her immediately after, expecting a sudden move. I stopped. Mom's robe had fallen open when she leaned over to get and replace her glass and her left breast was now bare, capped by a not so flaccid nipple standing up about a half inch, a nice brownish, maroon color. My eyes followed the trail of bare skin, between her breasts, past her navel, the nice inset oval kind, over the small pout of her tummy and down the slope to her brown pubic hair. I couldn't really see her pussy because her thighs were closed tightly together and the robe joined just below. Beautiful.

I glanced at the TV as the screen mother moaned. Her son had lifted one of her legs and had just inserted his cock in her. He was moving slowly in and out when I looked back at Mom in time to see her turn her head on her side and open her eyes to watch him fuck her. I kept the polish applicator held high and put my other hand on Mom's calf, slowly sliding it down until I cupped the instep of her foot, the one I was supposed to be painting, the one she was holding against my cock. I pulled it in tighter and pushed my hips out, squeezing her foot between my legs.

I leaned over and tossed the applicator onto the table, switched hands, and starting sliding my left hand back up Mom's leg, along the back of her ankle, over her calf to her knee, and then beyond, parting her robe as I pushed higher, onto her thigh. Mom's left hand dropped from where it had been laying on her chest to the side of her thigh, near the edge of the couch. She was still watching the TV where the son had pulled out of his mom and stepped back so she had room to turn around and lean on the counter. The man could still be seen through the window moving about in the yard.

Since she hadn't said anything and was still watching the movie, I cautiously slid my hand higher, fingers drooping down the inside of Mom's thigh. When I reached the midpoint, Mom's hand suddenly moved and I froze but she merely pushed the edge of her robe on her outside leg to meet the one on the inside, grasping them together in one hand just above her knee and below my hand. She didn't interfere with my hand or give me a disapproving look.

I joined Mom in watching the son line up his very large cock behind his mother who had turned to look behind herself. But where Mom was still and completely focused on the movie action, my attention was on my left hand, moving ever so slowly up her thigh and reaching deeper between her legs. Mom's only movement was to keep her robe closed as my hand moved higher.

Just as the son started to vigorously fuck his mother I moved my hand as far as it would go, making contact with the apex of Mom's legs, its edge firmly lined up with her pussy. Mom made no response. I wiggled my hand until I felt it insert itself between her pussy lips and then let it begin a gentle rubbing motion there. When the son reached up to hold his mom's shoulders while he slammed into her, I pulled my hand higher so my fingers were inserted in her lips and they began a more refined manipulation than the edge of my hand could manage. Mom kept concentrating on the TV, not once acknowledging my action in any way.

The son slipped his hands from his mother's shoulders to grasp her long, wavy red hair, holding it in a makeshift pony tail and gently pulling to tug his mother's face up. Freeing one hand while holding her hair with the other, he grasped her head and turned her face to look directly at the man working outside, presumably his father. The muscles of his legs bulged as he jolted the first of many harsh lunges into his mother from behind, about one every five seconds. It was here, on the third or fourth lunge, that I threw caution to the wind, inserting my fingers into my own mother's pussy.

For several minutes while the movie son's continued his lurches into his mother, I worked my fingers in and out, up and down and side to side in Mom, holding her foot tightly against my cock as I moved my hips to rub up and down her insole. I abandoned myself to the intense feelings coursing through me until I came in my underpants just as the son began heaving faster and moaning in time to his mother's groans, sensing a sudden flood on my fingers at the same time. As the scene faded, I pulled away and Mom closed the robe behind my retreating hand, her hips still moving faintly as if it was still there. She closed her eyes as I lifted her foot away from my soaked shorts.

I wasn't sure what to do but Mom just lay there as if she had fallen asleep so I took my cue and slipped out from under her feet and made my way to the bathroom to cleanup. After putting on a clean pair of shorts, I wandered back into the living room to find that Mom hadn't moved. Picking up my jeans, I decided not to put them back on and took them back to the bedroom where I also removed my shirt and socks before returning to sit on the couch dressed only in my clean shorts. I turned off the TV and gently nudged Mom. She mumbled and did so again when I shook her shoulder a second time.

"Mom," I whispered. No response.

"I'm going to put you in bed," I whispered, standing and stooping over to insert my hands below her shoulders and her knees. I lifted her up and walked her into the bedroom. She was sufficiently aware to slip her arms around my neck. I let her feet fall to the floor but held her against me in a standing position as I reached down with one hand to pull the covers back. Sitting her down on the edge of the bed, I spoke again to explain what I was doing.

"Let's get this robe off. It's too hot to sleep with it on."

I pulled the sleeves off Mom's arms and pushed the robe off behind her back, exposing her naked breasts which swayed and jostled beautifully as they hung from her chest.

"Oh, sorry Mom. I didn't know you weren't wearing a nightie," I lied. "Oh well, just family here, right?" I said as I laid her down on her back, undid her belt and pulled the robe out from underneath her, and threw it onto a chair.

Mom lay with her hair in disarray across the pillow. I leaned down to spread it out even more, admired my handiwork, and then leaned further over, pulling her legs and feet farther onto the bed. Pausing for another look, I pushed one leg even further toward the center of the bed, opening her thighs so I could see her pussy, the hair still damp from my earlier manipulation.

Thinking about the past two days, I realized that I didn't ever want to go home. I didn't want Dad around, though the thought of him reminded me of the father in the movie cutting the lawn while the son fucked his wife hard in the kitchen, and this made my cock stiffen up as I pictured me fucking Mom while Dad worked in the yard, or bent over on their bed while he was having his morning shower. Without thinking, I reached into my shorts and fished out my boner which, though it wasn't, felt as big as the movie son's looked. I stroked it a few times looking down at Mom.

I loved the way her tits were big enough to sit like large blobs on her chest and the way her nipples pointed up toward the roof and off to one side. I wished I could suck them. Abruptly, I pushed my shorts down over my extended boner, down my legs and off. Completely naked, I leaned against the bed, letting my knees rest on the side of the mattress. Leaning forward to put my left hand on the other side of Mom, I gripped my cock with my right and brought it near Mom's tit, letting it hover just above her nipple.

What are you doing, you idiot? Nothing, came the answer. She'll wake up, my brain yelled, but no one was listening. I lowered myself until the underside of my tip barely touched her, grazing over her distended nipple. The touch was so exquisite its hard to believe I didn't come right then. I let my cock slip off to the side, over the soft precipice and down to her torso, keeping it tight to the round swell of her breast so I could tuck it under her breast. I relished the weight of her tit pressing down on my tip, squeezing it against her abdomen and then enjoyed the tingly feeling as I used my cock to push her breast up until it flipped back on top, bending her nipple over until it flicked upright again.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my cock slowly down the gentler slope, watching as it progressed and finally dipped into the hollow below her shoulder. Tempting fate, I let the end rise and pushed in until the tip brushed against Mom's cheek. Leaning in yet more, I guided my cock until its curious head reached the corner of her mouth. I almost jumped out of my skin when Mom's hand lifted from the pillow beside her head and landed on my forearm, slid down to my wrist and then my hand as I jerked back. Mom's head turned toward me, laying sideways on the pillow. I was caught!

I was petrified until my numb mind slowly realized that her eyes were still closed. I was even more stunned when I noticed that her mouth was open in a silent 'O' as if she was waiting to consume something large, like a popsicle. Was she waiting for Dad? Did she do this for him at night when he was finished getting ready for bed and she was half asleep?

I ignored the relentless shrilling from my brain. Deliberately, I pushed forward until my cock wavered at the entrance to that magical cave. Don't, you moron, my brain screamed. I dropped my hand but Mom's slid forward to take its place, lightly holding my shaft near its root. I placed my free hand on the other side of Mom to help take my weight, hanging my head to watch my cock bob around before her sexy mouth. I pushed and the head slipped inside her lips.

Oh, glory! This was worth getting caught. I didn't care. I tried to stay still, to not wake her, but it didn't matter. Mom's lips closed over my head and her tongue, wet, warm and silky, swirled all around it and then her cheek hollowed and she sucked me hard. Oh, god!

As her cheek filled again, the tip of her tongue pressed on the underside of my cock and slid all the way down my shaft as her hand pulled me into her mouth, deep, deep until I bludgeoned against the entrance to her throat. She held me there for a second before pushing me back. Her hand jacked my cock a half times in quick succession and then her lips locked around me again, tongue swirling, sucking hard and pulling me deep inside once more. This time, instead of just holding me there, I felt her opening, felt my tip going in farther, before I was pushed away again.

This was repeated several times. I was near coming and then, deep inside, I felt myself burst through into an inner mouth. I was in her throat. Mom had pulled me into her throat! My cock was lurching, coming. Squirt. I could feel myself being pushed back. Squirt, squirt, squirt. I was jerking, pure reflex, trying to mini fuck her mouth, unloading my sperm. Mother of christ, I had never felt anything this good, nowhere near. Mom pushed until just the tip was inside her mouth, her tongue swirling around and around. Somehow, my cock dredged up some more cum, dribbling it inside her.

Finally, her hand and mouth were still. She was finished, and I was done. I pulled my softening cock out and stepped away. Her eyes were still closed and I would have sworn she was sleeping. Upon closer examination, I noticed a little string of white jism at the corner of her mouth. Delicately, I used my index finger to shepherd it into her mouth, dipping in just beyond her lips. I reached down to gather the covers and gently pulled them over her shoulders, tucking them in around her neck. I leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"I love you Mom," I whispered.

I walked around the bed and slid in from the other side, spooning my naked body against hers.

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I was awake for a long time after Nick finally fell asleep. I couldn't believe he actually thought he could stick his cock in my mouth and come without waking me, especially after I sucked him. I couldn't help that, it was just reflex. It's been a very long time since I've had such a nice young one in my mouth. But really, to think you could fuck a woman's mouth, that she could suck you, in her sleep? Pullease.

But he acted like he believed it and that was good. Let's face it. He wanted to believe it. He had fingered me on the couch and fucked my mouth in bed, but I had managed to let him think I wasn't aware. Even if he didn't believe it at some level, we didn't have to face up to it. It could be ignored and allowed to fade into our past. After all, I hadn't let him fuck me, so there wasn't anything that couldn't be forgotten. I was sure I could mend things with Nick. Maybe our relationship would be a little different, a little less intimate and more strained than usual, but nothing that couldn't be handled in time.

I knew what I was doing. This was about money, the old bastard's money. It meant sweet satisfaction for me and a good life for my family from now on. I only hoped I had done enough to get the next payment. Then we'd be out of here.

He'd been soft when he first cuddled up to me, putting his arm around my waist, barely touching me so he didn't wake me. It was nice to feel his body so close to mine after such an intimate act. I'd been so bad. It was hard to keep pretending to be asleep, especially when he started getting hard again, stiffening up to press into the crack of my ass. I was toying with the thought of opening myself a little, just to let him slip it between my legs. After all, if he believed he could put it in my mouth without waking me, what would stop him from sliding it underneath my pussy between my legs. But he pulled away with a groan. About twenty minutes later, I could tell he was sleeping.

You'd think I would have gone to sleep then, wouldn't you? I should have. But I couldn't help thinking that tomorrow, after we got the money, we'd be gone. Gone home, and there'd be no chance to be like this again. I turned to look at my son. He was laying on his back, breathing deeply and evenly, the sleep of a satisfied man. I couldn't help snuggling up to him, being just as careful as he had been not to wake him. I watched him, love swelling up inside me, assuring myself that everything would be ok, that I was doing it for him and he'd understand one day.

I kissed his shoulder and put my arm across his chest to give him a light hug. I love you so much, I thought. And then I did it. As I pulled my arm away to turn over I let it trail down from his chest to his stomach, pausing there to marvel at how taut it was. Even there, he had muscles. But I let my hand stray south a little more and my hand slid over his cock.

Gwen, what are you doing? Just playing for a minute. He's asleep. He was soft but even so he had a certain size. He has a nice one, I thought, as I closed my fingers around it, squeezing him in my palm. As my love for my son spread a warm glow through my body I milked his cock until it stiffened and lengthened into the hard shaft that had slipped between my lips not so long ago. I ran my thumb lightly around his tip, on top of the head and under his glans, letting my fingers tickle down his shaft to scratch his balls, kneading them into my palm, then fluttering my fingers up his shaft to circle the head before encircling his cock in my fingers and stroking down to his root. 


Are you dreaming of me, baby? Putting it in my mouth, fucking me? Would you like to fuck your mother, like the son in that awful movie? Are you dreaming of putting it in me, from behind, while your father is nearby, just like in the movie? Oh, jeez, he had a nice cock. So hard. Bigger than his dad's, longer, thicker, more resilient. And eager. Oh, so different from Mike's. I knew so well what would happen when his entered me on those oh so rare occasions but this, this I couldn't predict beyond its youthful vigor. What would he do with it? How would he take me? I knew only that his attack, once begun, would be relentless.

I was so horny. Let go, Gwen, let go. Both desperate and reluctant, I forced my hand to loosen its grip, dropping his hard cock. Only it didn't drop. It stayed in the air in the pocket I'd created under the sheet. Telling myself I was just curious, I pulled the sheet down to look at it. How proudly it flung itself into the air. No, this wasn't anything like my husband's. There was part of me in this eager piece of meat. I could almost see myself in its bulging head. Headstrong, searching for a taste of the wild side. I bent my head to kiss myself.

A little kiss just on the tip I thought, that's all. But it wasn't. My lips opened and it popped into my mouth. Instinctively, I closed my lips tight, swirled my tongue around, and allowed my hand to creep back to take possession of his balls, fingers slowly scratching under his sack as I began to milk him in my mouth.

I don't know how long I sucked him. It could have been a minute, it could have been half an hour. I was lost in my thoughts and forgot what I was doing until the first burst blasted into my mouth, forcing me to swallow, then gag as the next and the next followed too quickly for me to get it all down. I gulped and gulped until I caught up, licking him clean, neither knowing nor caring if he was awake. He was holding my head, so he must have woken, I thought, but when I raised my head to look, his hands fell away and I could see his eyes were still closed.

Was he really asleep? I think so. I think he was dreaming. He had been holding my head, obviously, and may even have been fucking my mouth. I didn't know but I was sure he was sleeping now and I had just gotten away with another outrageous act. I smiled to myself. The story of my life. I turned away, and was soon asleep.

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It was one of those times when you know you're waking up, you're just not there yet. I knew the early morning light was streaming through the window before I opened my eyes. I could feel it.

Mom was laying nearby almost on her stomach, facing away from me with her right hip cocked up a bit to accommodate her right leg being bent at the knee. The room was sufficiently warm that I was covered in only the sheet but Mom's back was bare, and so was her bottom. The sheet was rumpled across Mom's open thighs just above her knees. With her back angled away from me, I had an intriguing view of that magical area where a woman's legs transform into her derriere.

Suddenly, I was wide awake and memories of the previous night flooded through my mind. I was so hard but there was no way I could get away with what I had last night. There was no wine effect to rely on, no way she could be as deeply asleep as last night. But the more I looked, the more I wanted to touch her. Could I get away with an accidental caress?

I shifted my body closer, aligning myself a few inches away. Moving carefully so as not to wake her I raised the sheet up, tucking it around her shoulders but keeping my hand inside. As soon as I finished, I whispered, "There you go," like Mom used to do to me when I was little.

I moved my hand along her body, lifting the sheet a couple of inches so as not to touch her, and shifted forward to cuddle her.

"You must be freezing," I whispered as I pressed my body against hers, lifting my knee and threading my right leg between hers.

My hand came to rest against my shorts, but cupped away from me rather than over myself. As if seeking comfort I adjusted myself, inadvertently prodding my right thigh into the back of hers, forcing it wider and nestling between her legs in a full length body cuddle. My hand was lost in the shuffle, at least I hoped it was, squeezed between my shorts and Mom's bare bottom. With any luck, Mom wouldn't notice, thinking it was just my leg rather than my fingers grazing the bottom of her pussy.

I lay still for a long time, feigning sleep, waiting for any sign of disapproval or discomfort from Mom. Neither was expressed. Had I got away with it? I pressured my thigh against Mom's leg as if once more seeking greater comfort. A moment later, I nudged her the same way but rather than allowing my leg to retreat I maintained steady pressure to keep my fingers cupped over the rear of her pussy.

Now I kept my leg still and let my fingers move, tensing the muscles in my hand so my fingers would briefly expand against her sex lips. At first, I dared this only once a minute, then two, and four. Finally, I allowed my fingers to flutter across her lips and then brush over them. When they became slippery, I slithered my long finger inside, rocking like a tipping canoe and sliding back and forth, just barely within her moist channel.

Mom wasn't making a sound and this convinced me she was actually awake, that she was aware I was fingering her and she was letting me do it. The only movement she made was to turn her face into the pillow. I didn't see when she did it. It happened somewhere between two throbs a minute and four. I just noticed that her head had twisted. To muffle any sound?

Could I fuck her? No. That would be too hard to cover up. How could she pretend to ignore that? But I'd put my cock in her mouth. Well, that was last night. She could have been passed out.

Still, there was now no question in my mind that Mom had been flirting and teasing since we got here. At first, I thought it was just her way to connect with me, for us to be like pals on our own now that I was older. But she'd gone beyond that, drawing my attention to her womanly charms, emphasizing her body, and encouraging me to react in a sexual way.

Did she want me to fuck her? Don't be ridiculous, I thought. She's just confused. She's under a lot of stress with Grandpa dying, having to sit around waiting, meeting every morning with that lady, listening to whatever she delivered, his rants, perhaps? Yes. I had followed Mom to the lobby to see what she was up to.

And here I am taking advantage of her troubled situation, her only son. I should be comforting and consoling her, not trying to get into her pants. What a creep. As that thought crept into my mind, my finger slipped inside, into her inner hole. Oh, fuck she was wet. Dad obviously wasn't fucking her enough. I could feel her pussy reaching back, trying to suck my finger in further. Man, she needed it.

This is consolation. This will alleviate her stress better than any words a guy my age could offer, I thought, convincing myself that digging my finger deep inside my mother made me a truly sensitive, thoughtful son. If I could find a way to fuck her, that would really help.

Mom's pussy was throbbing on my finger now. Her knees were bent sharply, crooking around my leg and lifting her feet off the bed. Suddenly, she stiffened and her quim shuddered, vibrating and clutching my fingers before becoming still, reviving seconds later for two smaller aftershocks. I withdrew my hand and rolled away. I dozed off trying to let time pass by before I could wake up, innocent again. I awoke to the sound of the shower.

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That was so close. If he'd grabbed my hips I would have helped him shove himself into me. This was a dangerous game and it was getting out of control. I knew I would have let him fuck me, I couldn't have stopped it, wouldn't have.

I woke in a panic last night, brimming with anxiety that I hadn't done enough on the couch in the living room, and that it was too dark for that miserable old fuck to see me let my son slip his cock into my mouth in the bedroom. I needed some insurance to get the next draft, so we could get out of here.

So I slipped out of bed and opened the curtains to let the light stray in. Back in bed, I pushed the sheet down and arranged myself with my ass pointing toward him and my legs open, wantonly displaying myself to my son. Then I started nudging him with my feet, quickly feigning sleep when I heard him stir.

What a game he had played. I was prepared to pretend sleep while he rubbed himself against me, however ludicrous it would seem that he could get away with it, but for him to satisfy me and then turn away, god, it was so altruistic, so sexy. Even after I came I wanted to feel him inside me.

I suddenly realized that I was no longer soaping myself in the shower so much as caressing my body, running my hand over my breasts. Looking down, I stared at my seemingly disembodied other hand, cupped around my pussy. An image of my son flashed through my brain, as he would have looked bracing himself to enter me from behind. Just as quickly, that was replaced with the vision of his cock slipping through my lips and how its girth had surprised me.

God, my pussy tingled to these wicked thoughts, these forbidden desires. I hadn't felt anything so illicit since I fucked my father but that wasn't nearly as strong. I had a reason then, to keep my father home with my mother. I hated it at first, but I was pragmatic. He needed a reason to stay and I provided it. But my pragmatism led me to offer extras for special gifts just for me and eventually I got off on the danger of teasing him when mother was near and he couldn't do anything about it. In the end, I only let him fuck me when we might get caught, by Mother, friends, neighbors, or relatives. He knew it and thrived on it too.

Did anyone know? I think Mother did, and that made me feel dirty and ashamed, at first. But then I extracted a strange gratification from such debasement and for a while I insisted on being fucked when Mother couldn't help but know. I engaged in some of my most lewd acts during that period but nothing that approached the feeling I sensed when I thought my own son might enter me. I had a reason now too, I thought.

The bang of the soap dropping onto the tub startled me out of my reverie. Jesus, Gwen. Get a grip. It's too close. We have to get out of here, get the money and leave. I stepped out of the shower and after a brief toweling, stepped into the bedroom to get dressed for my morning meeting. I was surprised to see Nick awake, watching me. He'd been dead to the world when I got up.

"Morning Mom," his voice was unsure, perhaps not knowing what to expect from me.

"Morning," I said, more curtly than I'd intended. "Can you close your eyes? I need to get dressed."

"Sure Mom." Nick closed his eyes but added, "I thought we were family."

"Yes, but I'm still your mother." Again, my tone was curt. He was probably confused but I didn't have time to deal with it. I dressed quickly but saw in the mirror that Nick had opened his eyes and was watching me. As I stepped into my skirt, I realized with apprehension that I was pleased and I struggled a little harder than usual to pull the skirt over my ass, wriggling more than was necessary.

I walked into the bathroom to put on my bra and makeup but I returned to put on my blouse and, despite his rapt attention and my admonition to close his eyes, braced my feet on the edge of the bed in front of him as I stretched my pantyhose up my legs before pulling them over my panties.

I leaned down give him a kiss but before I could stand up he crooked his arm around my neck, pressing my lips back down to his to kiss me gently before letting go and wishing me luck. He didn't kiss me hard or try to push his tongue into my mouth. It was a very soft, sensual kiss, however brief, and was definitely not a kiss a son gives his mother. The sexual tension of his lips brushing against mine zinged through my body, all the way to my feet. I was still thinking about that kiss as I stepped into the elevator, could still feel it ricocheting inside my pelvis.

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Same routine. The woman laid an envelope on the table followed by a new player and set of headphones. I put them on and listened.

"So well done, Gwen. I'm was very pleased to see that you haven't lost the art of the tease. It brought back so many memories watching you in action. You lost yourself in it, didn't you? Had you forgotten these past seven years, how truly gifted you really are? You can't bury it, you know. An artist's talent must be expressed. It's inevitable."

There was a long bout of hacking coughs. I had to pull the earphone away.

"Not long now, Gwen, not long, but I want the whole shebang."

There was a long pause, but no coughing, just raspy breathing.

"That little extra this morning -- weren't sure if you'd done enough? Thinking about cutting and running with what you have? Hmmmm? You think I don't know you, my own daughter? Well, you think things over when you open the envelope. Exponential growth, Gwen. Exponential growth."

There was a long, cackle.

"I want everything, Gwen, and we don't have much time."

I put the player and the headphones in my purse, picked up the envelope and opened it, hoping for another half a million so we could skidaddle. I was shocked.

Five million dollars!

We were free! Every nerve in my body was firing. I could hardly breathe. I scanned the room, feeling both guilty and wary that someone might somehow know what I was holding in my hand. Several long minutes passed before I realized the draft was useless to anyone else, even me. It was in Nick's name.

We could go now. We could live on this. I walked toward the elevator on unsteady feet and waited impatiently for the doors to open. I closed them just before a couple could get in, close enough to see their angry faces as they realized I wasn't going to wait. I needed to be alone to think about how I was going to explain this to Nick. I needed more time. I stopped the elevator at the next floor and punched in the lobby again, bearing the disapproval and snide comment of the young couple as I exited and headed toward the lounge. I needed a drink.

Five million dollars! We could do so much. Buy a new house, cars, travel, quit work. The possibilities were endless. By the time I finished my first drink I had spent at least ten million and was trying to set priorities. It had to last. We couldn't spend it all in three years. But there was so much to buy, so many places to go, in style. A lifetime of dreams.

I had started my third drink, having ignored the bored bartender's attempts to converse in favor of mumbling to myself. We needed more, enough to last a lifetime. What had he said? Exponential growth? What did that mean? He'd gone from $50,000 to half a million to five million. What was the next step? Another tenfold increase -- fifty million? Did he have that much or was he just setting me up to see if I'd go for it?

No. He'd always come through in the past, always came through with the goods.

But I couldn't. Not for any amount of money. I pushed the drink away, half finished, and walked away. I'll get Nick and we'll leave right away. Determined, I caught the elevator again, riding in unfriendly silence with five other people to our floor. Why did I notice there were five?

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Mom's breakfast was barely warm by the time she returned to the room. Her meeting had been a lot longer than the first one. Was Grandpa gone, or about to go? She didn't say anything, and she didn't want to eat.

"Is Grandpa OK?" I asked.

"He's not very good. I think we should go home tomorrow."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm just stressed out at bit, honey."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"No." Mom paused on her way to the bedroom, then turned to face me. "Maybe. Would you take me out shopping?"

I replaced the grimace that was about to form on my face with a beaming smile, "Sure Mom," and was rewarded with a really pleased look from Mom. There seemed to be a jaunt in her step when she turned around and resumed her journey to the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Mom emerged in a black dress that highlighted her bare shoulders. Two narrow straps dropped from her shoulders to the sides of her bosom, hooking on to the dress which traced a horizontal line across the top of her mostly bare breasts without dipping into the valley between. The dress hugged her waist and hips before flaring out to a knee length skirt. It was a simple but elegant affair capped by a pair of low, black pumps. Mom did a spin when she noticed my admiration, perhaps mistaking it for the dress rather than her. As she turned, I could see how tighly the dress held her breasts but was disappointed that it didn't dip any lower in back than it did in front. Oh well.

We had the car brought around and drove the short distance downtown. Shopping for me was watching Mom shed her stress in the joy of browsing and talking about all manner of clothes, trying on a lot, and buying a few. She sought my opinion on everything and I could see she really did value it over that of the sales people. Although not too obvious, I did notice that Mom enjoyed modeling sexy dresses and loose blouses for me, striking revealing poses when only I was present.

We had a late lunch in a fancy, open and airy restaurant, alone in a large curved booth. I particularly enjoyed lunch because Mom sat right next to me with her skirt riding high and, rather than being oblivious about how much of her legs were showing, was simply unconcerned. One time she happened to catch me redhanded looking between her legs and, reaching down to grasp the hem of her skirt, simply fiddled with it and left it where it was before continuing her conversation. After that I didn't bother hiding and she continued not to mind.

The afternoon continued with a little more shopping but then Mom tired and begged to go back to the hotel, as if I was the one keeping us in the stores. Back at the hotel, Mom seemed to tire as we rode up in the elevator.

"I'm going to take some pills and have a short nap but then we'll have dinner and make a real night of it. OK?" Mom took a bottle out of her purse and popped a couple of pills in her mouth as she wandered into the bedroom. "Don't let me sleep through dinner."

I watched a movie. Another mother/son thing. Probably a mistake, as was drinking another bottle of that expensive wine. I was hard when it ended. Well, duh. I'd been stroking my cock for an hour. I wandered around in my shorts, having pulled my jeans off some time ago so I could wank myself more easily. My shorts hurt, constraining me. I took them off and tossed them on the living room floor, reveling in the freedom of walking around naked, my cock bouncing around in front of me.

I walked back to the couch, picked up the remote and scanned through the movie listings. So many mom/son movies, almost all the adult listings. Was that normal? I was just about to select one when I suddenly tossed the remote down, wheeled around and walked into the bedroom.

She was on her tummy again with the dress pushed down to her hips. It was clear now that she hadn't been wearing a bra, even a half cup job, since her back was bare. She looked dead to the world. I sat on the end of the bed stroking her stockinged feet and running my hand absently up her calf to her knee and back as I twisted around to look at her. What a sexy looking mom. Those movies should have her in them, then ten times as many people would watch them.

I tickled the bottom of her foot. No reaction. She was really out. I pushed her feet apart, opening her legs. No response. The memory of last night entered my mind. She was laying dead center in the middle of the kingsize bed. I'd have to drag her to the edge to repeat that performance. So?

Standing, I turned around and picked up her foot, fitting my cock across her sole and rubbing it into her instep, sensing the scratch of the mesh on my shaft. I pulled the pantyhose down from her ankle and folded it around myself, jacking myself gently against her foot. After a few strokes, I began pulling her hose down, pulling, pulling, until it was bunched around her knees. I yanked it off her feet, carelessly rough, until it lay on a heap on the floor.

Pushing her legs apart, I looked to see if she was wearing panties. She was. Straddling her legs, I kneeled my way up to her thighs, reached under her skirt and started tugging her panties down. Over her ass and past her knees to her feet and off.

I sat back on my ankles and examined her. She was only wearing as skirt; she was naked underneath. I leaned forward and pushed the hem up to the bottom of her ass, and then over. Placing my hands on her buttocks, I spread her cheeks apart, unearthing her crinkly little hole and the more familiar pussy underneath. I waddled up and touched the tip of my cock against her ass, pushing it between her cheeks.

God, I wanted to fuck her. Moaning in exasperation, I sat back and stared at her ass again before springing to my feet. Jumping off the bed, I dashed into the bathroom and returned a minute later with a tube in my hand. Climbing onto the bed, I sat beside Mom with my back toward her head and squirted some of the stuff onto her ass, spreading it around. It was slippery, as I had hoped. I kneaded Mom's cheeks and pushed the slippery stuff into the dark crevice between them, then held her cheeks apart and explored its length with my finger.

Turning around to face the same way as Mom, I knelt between her legs. Should I pick her up by the hips and shove myself in or press my cock between her thighs and prod it againt her pussy, slowly working myself in? I chose the latter. Perhaps a mistake. Though it felt good, nudging against her dampening slit, I was overcome with guilt. How could I do this when she was out? It was almost rape.

With great difficulty, I pulled myself back, finding it tremendously hard to break the contact between my cock and her skin. But I did.

I stumbled into the living room and turned on the TV, selecting another mother/son movie. Why were all the adult movies this theme? I slowly wanked myself as the movie played, struck by how much the mom in this one resembled my own mother.

I couldn't have been watching more than ten minutes before I was startled -- more like freaked out -- by Mom suddenly sitting down on the couch beside me!

"Mom!" I cried, trying to hide my huge boner behind my hands, lambasting myself for not at least putting my shorts or jeans on. That thought brought a rush of guilt as I realized that Mom must know she had gone to bed with her pantyhose and panties on. She was wearing a full length beige robe made of a soft velour belted tight around her waist and held together over her breasts with one hand.

"It's OK, we're family," Mom replied calmly, thankfully looking at the TV and not my private parts. I started to get up but she reached out with her right hand and pulled me back to the couch. "Let's watch the movie, and then go out," she said, eyes still on the TV.

"OK, but let me get dressed," I tried to get up again.

"No, wait," she said in the commanding tone she used when she wanted something done. She stood, loosened the belt on her robe and turned out of it, plopping down onto the couch beside me, followed by her robe which settled over the two of us, all without me seeing what she was wearing underneath the robe. "There, now we're all covered up."

I had no choice but to watch the movie, as Mom was doing. My cock was poking the robe up but I couldn't put my hand on it to push it down, not with Mom sitting next to me. So I watched the movie.

The movie son was making unwanted advances, pats and touches, gropes and the like. Exasperated, the movie mom challenged her son, turning the tables on him by shocking him with a clutching hand along the full length of his pride. I guess she thought that would be the end of it but, recovering from the initial upset, her son simply undid his belt and opened his pants, allowing a large example of country cock to spring forth.

Now it was the mom's turn to be shocked. She looked down at her son, surprised if not in awe, glanced upstairs, and reached out to take hold of him, firmly, before sliding her hand down his length, fixing her eyes on his. He smiled and met her gaze, using both hands to unbutton her blouse. She continued to stroke him until he had finished opening her shirt, never taking her eyes off his, not even when he opened her bra and let her tits spill out, catching them in his palms and mashing them against her chest. She groaned when he pushed his hips forward, pressing his cock with her hand on it, against her belly.

The softest hand cupped my balls, squeezing them gently before moving up to let its fingers circle my stiff member. Slowly, ever so slowly, it stroked up my aching cock to the top, the thumb rubbing side to side under my tip. Mom cuddled close, resting her head on my shoulder.

She whispered in my ear, "We can't ever do that. You know that, don't you?"

Before I could answer, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek and then my ear where her tongue swirled wetly.

"Look at her," she whispered, "she's going to let him do it. Bad mother."

My eyes focused again on the TV just as the son yanked the mom's pants down to her knees, spun her around and grabbed her tits from behind, moving his hips behind her in a vain attempt to gain entry until she reached underneath to help. He started moving vigorously, banging into her bottom, gripping her tits, his mother's head flopping around.

Mom's hand started stroking me as soon as the movie son began fucking his mother. She kept whispering in my ear.

"Bad mother."

"Look what that naughty boy's doing."

Stuff like that. Her pace quickened in concert with the movie son. Not as fast, but in unison, and when the movie son burst his load into his mother, I spilled my seed all over myself. Mom kept jacking me, slowly and softly, until I had nothing left to give. Then she whispered in my ear.

"Get showered and dressed, then we'll go for dinner. We're leaving tomorrow."

When I emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed in my sports jacket and slacks, Mom was waiting. She was wearing that fantastic dress again. I felt an immediate response in my groin, and could see that Mom noticed.

"Down boy," she smiled. "It's very flattering but I meant what I said."

On seeing my disappointed look, she added, "But if you take me out for a nice dinner and dance with me a bit, maybe I can relieve your tension one last time before we go home."

I don't think I'll ever forget that smile as long as I live.

We had a dinner much like the first night we stayed at the hotel. Mom treated me like I wasn't her son. Not quite like Dad, more as if I was her date. I felt proud leaving the restaurant with her again. Mom didn't feel like leaving the hotel so we went to the lounge and listened to the piano player while we had a few drinks. As promised, I danced several slow waltzes with Mom. I was thinking that we'd had enough to drink and that we should go upstairs when we were surprised by a young blond woman, dressed in a stylish but slinky dress. It was Lianne, one of the girls we'd run into at that club the first night we were in town, the one that seemed to be so interested in Mom.

We had several more drinks after that. Lianne joined us on the dance floor and that became the norm, either all three of us or just Mom and Lianne. The last two were Mom and Lianne. Before the dance ended Mom broke away, surprising Lianne and me, walked back to our booth, picked up Lianne's coat and strode out of the lounge. Lianne and I quickly followed, catching up to Mom at the elevator, just as the doors opened and she stepped inside.

"It's time to party upstairs," she said as we got in.

I punched in our floor and turned to look at the women, both looking at each other. I had the presence of mind, in my drunken fog, to run my eyes up and down their revealing dresses, on the outside and as far inside as I could. Then, something happened that really surprised me, though I guess it shouldn't have. Lianne stepped very close to my mom, slid her hands around both of Mom's hips, pressed herself to her, and kissed my mother full on the lips.

And Mom let her. She even kissed back.

They didn't stop kissing until the door opened at our floor. Arms around each other's waists, they walked toward our room. I ran ahead to get the door.

Inside, Lianne asked if we had anything to drink.

"Lots," Mom answered. "Make us some drinks and bring them into the bedroom, Nick."

Mom took Lianne by the hand and led her to the bedroom. I expected them to be in the sack by the time I got there with their hastily made drinks, but Mom had just finished upzipping the back of Lianne's dress. They must have been kissing the whole time. What is it that is so exciting about watching two women together? I don't know, but watching two women, one of whom is your mother, now that's really exciting.

I set the drinks down on one of the tables beside the bed and returned to stand next to the women. Mom nodded her head, directing me behind Leanne before kissing her again. Leanne's dress was fully unzipped, providing a complete view of her unblemished back. My eyes were drawn to the groove into the small of her back before the long rise to her buttocks and the dip into the crease between them. Her ass was moving as she responded to Mom's embrace.

Gently, not so much fearing rebuke so much as not wanting to disturb them, I placed my hands onto Lianne's lower back on either side of her spine and then slowly slipped them around her waist to her tummy and up to cup the bottom of her braless breasts. As their kiss finished only to be immediately renewed after a brief gasp for air, I squeezed my hands up between their tightly pressed bodies to take a firm hold of Lianne's small tits, circling her nipples with a ring formed by my thumbs and index fingers.

Since Lianne didn't seem to mind, or seemingly even be aware of my caress, I began squeezing her tits and rolling her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, stretching them out toward Mom while I pressed my slacks into her ass. Although not nearly so well endowed as Mom, she had a fine body. My cock was very had and I wiggled it about until its length was lodged into the crevice between her cheeks.

I grew harder when I felt Mom's hands slide around Lianne's ass to squeeze between us, her fingers finding my lump and tracing down its sides, up and down, sevaral times. Breaking her kiss, she looked at me over Lianne's shoulder.

"Let me undo these for you."

She engaged Lianne in a kiss but her hands rose up to undo my belt and then my zipper followed by the catch holding my slacks together. She pushed my pants down as she moaned into Lianne's mouth, her hands catching the sides of my shorts and pushing them down too, my cock flipping up to bang against Lianne's dress.

Mom's dress was pushed off her shoulders. I guess Lianne had unzipped Mom and had now reached the point where she wanted to fondle her breasts the way I was doing hers. As Mom's dress disappeared from sight I felt Lianne's hands pull around to Mom's front and witnessed their first possession of Mom's larger breasts. Their kiss ended shortly after and Lianne's head dipped down to take Mom's nipple into her mouth, Mom reacting by throwing her head back, mouth open, releasing a long sigh.

Even then, Mom's hands were busy. She took hold of my cock and, slipping Lianne's hem up, pulled it firmly between her ass cheeks, then let go. Five seconds later, Lianne's dress began falling from her shoulders as Mom pulled it down. Almost reluctantly, I pulled my cock back to allow the dress to fall to the floor but quickly pressed it between Lianne's cheeks again, pushing in until I encountered her thong. I was beside myself with lust. I wanted to get my cock in this woman.

Perhaps seeing my need, Mom began backpeddaling toward the bed, pulling Lianne with her. I walked over her dress and then Mom's. Both women were naked except for their panties. Mom sat on the bed, reaching up to push my hands away, replacing one with hers and the other with her mouth. It was Lianne's turn to lay her head back and gasp as her nipple was sucked into Mom's mouth.

I dropped my hands to catch the strap on each of Lianne's hips and pulled her thong down her thighs, tugging her panties off her legs. As soon as I was finished, Mom pulled Lianne around until she sat on the bed and then pushed her back, leaning in to kiss her flat belly, turning and standing herself to better reach between Lianne's legs which Lianne raised up and apart as Mom's mouth moved lower. Lianne groaned loudly as Mom's mouth reached its target.

Now it was Mom's panties that I removed, more slowly now, kneeling on the carpet as I pulled them down to her feet, raising each in turn to pull them off, placing each down so they were about a foot and a half apart. Starting at her feet, I caressed Mom's legs up to and over her ass, sliding my hands inside and around, following the muscles of her calves and thighs, stopping to kiss each cheek before slipping one hand between her legs from behind and cupping her pussy in my palm.

I expected Mom to pull away or push my hand out but instead she moved her ass back and forth, rubbing her pussy on my hand. Encouraged, I stood up and replaced my hand with my cock, rubbing the top against her moist lips, digging into her hairy little furrow. Mom stood then, trapping my cock between her legs, her head turning part way toward me, whispering over her shoulder.

"No baby. I'm sorry, we can't. But you can do her."

Mom bent again to take Lianne's pussy in her mouth, my cock falling free as her legs opened. Her gasps and moans over the next few minutes attested to Mom's expertise in this area. I watched dumbly for a minute until I could no longer ignore the small movements of Mom's ass and once again slipped my cock between her legs, rubbing it against the bottom of her wet pussy. Mom didn't object until I tried to slip it inside her and then her hand reached back to bat me away, but she let me reconnect a few seconds later. Once more she batted me away but let me back to feed at the trough. This time, I didn't transgress the boundary she had set.

A few minutes later, after a very loud bout of moaning from Lianne, Mom climbed up on the bed and turned to face me, pulling Lianne up by her arms until her face was below Mom's open knees. Mom lowered her pussy onto Lianne's face, her hands expertly manipulating Lianne's breasts.

I watched this for a minute or so until Mom nodded her head for me to climb up. She let go of Lianne's tits and slipped her hands under Lianne's thighs, sliding down to her knees before lifting, pulling Lianne's legs up and wide apart. Mom pulled Lianne's legs so far back that her ass was raised high up off the bed and Lianne's legs were tucked under Mom's arms, held tightly to her waist. Mom nodded her head at Lianne's lewdly exposed pussy and asshole.

I had to stand on my feet to get my cock high enough to rest it on Lianne's spread pussy, sawing it back and forth along her slit which was far wetter than Mom's.

Mom looked me in the eyes. "Fuck her," she whispered. "Fuck her hard."

I rose up, angled my cock down, and shoved it inside Lianne's pussy, pushing in until I was buried to the hilt. There was loud but muffled moan as Lianne reacted through Mom's pussy. I began to fuck her, watching Mom, returning her intense gaze, fixed on the strange glint in her eyes.

"Hard, fuck her hard."

I obeyed, immediately picking up my pace, pushing myself up dropping down, plunging into this woman folded almost in half, her face covered in pussy, her own cunt held in place by my mother's hands. Within seconds I was grunting loudly with the exertion or the pleasure or both. My cock felt like it was two feet long and six inches wide but was still barely sufficient to plug this hole. Harder and harder I fucked, no longer content to just let myself drop but shoving myself down, the loud slaps of my thighs against hers ringing off the walls.

"Ugh, uggh, unnggghhh," I grunted, over and over, echoed by the muffled moans below.

Mom never made a sound though I knew Lianne's tongue must be busy swirling around in her pussy and lapping at her clit. She stared at me, as if inhabited by some kind of demon.

It was coming. I could feel it, the massive head of sperm I'd been building all day. It was coming, surging, starting up my pipe.

Suddenly, I yanked my cock out of Lianne, leaving a gaping, clutching hole. My cock sprang forward, pointing at Mom, right at her neck. Blast! The first huge wad of thick white cream exploded against Mom's neck. Wham! The second spurt hit higher as the recoil left my cock pointing higher, right at Mom's mouth and nose. Sploosh! Down on Mom's tits as I reacted, pushing my cock down, away from Mom's face, the damage already done. Squirt, squirt, squirt.

Pulling my cock back, I fed it back into Leanne's hole to a satisfied grunt and started fucking into her again until a minute later, I was spent and pulled out and Mom released her legs, letting them fall back to the bed. Mom started moving her hips faster on Leanne's face, tilting her head back to release a long soft moan, my cum dripping from her chin and cheeks. My hands grasped her tits and I kneaded them as I had Leanne's. Leanne's own hands had reached up over Mom's thighs and were rubbing Mom's clit as she fucked her face. Suddenly, Mom went rigid, her mouth open in a silent scream, a posture she held for a full thirty seconds before relaxing and then falling to the side, opening Leanne to my view for the first time, her face soaked in Mom's juices.

Un-fucking believable.

I never wanted to go home.

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

I was up early and in relatively good shape. My years of experience showing, I suppose. Nick and Leanne were both asleep as I left the bedroom, suitably dressed for my morning meeting. Did I feel remorse? No. True, I bore a certain responsibility for things letting things get so carried away and yes, I hadn't had as much to drink as my younger partners in crime, but I wasn't exactly in control either. I was swept into the erotic twister almost as much as they, the only sobering difference being my pragmatic thoughts, an essential part of my nature, that perhaps this would satisfy father sufficiently for him to award the next draft.

I was going home today anyway but I couldn't help trying one last shot if I could manage it without going as far as he wanted. Yesterday afternoon may have done it if Nick had simply rubbed himself on me and come on my ass, but my dear son couldn't bring himself to do it while I was out, bless his beautiful soul. So I tried once more after a few liberalizing glasses of wine and a couple of drinks. Running into Leanne was a stroke of luck that allowed me to provide a show without giving in, without doing something irretrievable that Nick and I might not be able to live with. I had to admit, his altruistic act of denying himself to avoid taking undue advantage of me made me want this man, even though he was my son. What woman can resist a man that suffers for her?

I peeked in the bedroom before I left, at the two beautiful people sprawled naked across the bed. They would wake while I was downstairs, discover each other's nudity and have lovely morning sex. An uncontrollable urge flooded through me, to replace that woman, to claim my rightful place next to my son but I pulled myself away, as if walking through foam rather than air, and forced myself to the door and out before I crossed the line. 

The woman was late. I had been sitting almost twenty minutes before she appeared, typically well dressed, just before I was about to leave, resigned that there would be no more money. She sat down as usual but didn't place an envelope on the table, or a headset and recorder. She simply sat for a minute and smiled.

I was angry until I realized that she would be behaving exactly as instructed and that this was what my father wanted. Was I on video? Almost definitely. I relaxed and smiled back, crossing my leg toward her in as calm a manner as I could muster.

"He's gone," the woman suddenly blurted out, quietly, when nobody was near enough to hear. "I'm sorry."

"Last night?" I replied.

"Yes."

"When?" I asked, then added to cover up such a potentially revealing query, "Was he in pain?"

"No pain. Early this morning, about 4am."

"Oh," I said, looking away. Turning back, I queried, "Was he lucid?"

"Oh yes," the woman replied. "Right to the very end." She smiled again, a knowing smile. I felt like wringing her neck. She's toying with me.

"He instructed me to leave you this message," she went on. "Too bad time ran out, Gwen," she recited. "I told you there was no time for games. You should have believed me."

She stopped and painted her face with her annoying smile.

Well, I took a shot and lost. I had no regrets. I had felt alive the past few days. I have felt excited to be a woman again with my son and we had five and a half million dollars to show for it. I picked up my purse from the table and started to get up.

"Wait," the urgency in the woman's voice made me quickly sit back in the chair. "He instructed me to leave this as a parting gift, his exact words." She removed an envelope from her purse and laid it on the table, standing as she did and then briskly walking away, her heels clacking on the tiled floor.

I stared at the envelope, afraid to open it. A parting shot, a final humiliation, his last power trip? If I didn't open it, he couldn't win. I sat there staring at that envelope, not able to leave but unable to look inside. Finally, I picked it up and in a decisive movement tore it open. There was a letter inside. I unfolded it and a draft fell into my lap. Picking it up I read the amount. Another five million dollars!

Shocked again, I read the brief note.

"You refused me, Gwen but you did put on a marvelous show tonight and for that I reward you with this consolation prize. I wish you had granted me this last wish, I wanted so much to give you the big one, but rules are rules. I leave you with this one truth. You made my life worth living. I was never so alive as I was with you. Thank you."

It was signed, 'Your Father.'

Emotion racked my body. The urge to cry surged within but I had no tears, not after all these years. Was this his final comedy, to make me feel that there was some semblance of humanity left in him, that there was some redeeming value in the charade of our lives? I felt angry and disbelieving and then grasping to a twisted hope that it was true, that he really did feel that way.

Composing myself, I put the draft and letter in my purse. I was about to stand when I noticed a displeased Leanne exit the elevator and walk directly outside toward a waiting cab. That was fine with me. I wanted to be alone with my son, to show him how our life was about to change. I walked toward the elevator feeling stronger with each step, my excitement growing as I thought about being alone with my son. My past fell further and further behind.

"Mom!" Nick was surprised when I entered, startling him just as he was setting his suitcase down in the hallway. "That was quick."

"Yes," I beamed. "You're alone? I thought you'd be having a breakfast with Leanne."

"Well. You said you wanted to go home and I thought it would be better if she just left."

"I do, but tomorrow. It's past check out now so we may as well have one last day. Let's go for a drive in the country. Just ourselves."

"Grandpa?"

"He's gone. Come on, let's go right now. I need to get out of here."

We left and spent the day driving around in Nick's new pride and joy. We stopped and had a great lunch on the veranda of a quaint seaside restaurant. It was wonderful.

"This isn't the place to have lunch with your mother," I commented at the end. "You should be here with your girlfriend, someone like Leanne."

"Mom, you barely look ten years older than me," Nick replied. "I doubt anyone thinks you're my mother. Knowing this town, they probably think you're some rich bitch having a little on the side."

Nick laughed but he also went red in the face as he thought about what he'd just said. I thanked him for his flattery and made light of it but when the waiter brought the bill, I made sure he noticed me drop my shoe and rub my toes up my son's muscled calf. As we walked past the counter on the way out, Nick played his part, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me close, his hand briefly cupping my breast. We giggled like kids on the way to the car.

I was free with my dress the rest of the drive, as I had been a few days earlier. I even teased him openly at one stoplight, pulling my skirt high and lifting it so he could see my panties as well as the guy driving the SUV next to us. I wonder what his wife thought as we sped away from the light while he sat there still gazing out his window. Childish, but fun.

Back at the hotel, Nick kept his arm around me as we walked through the lobby again. In the elevator, I turned, rose up on my tippy toes and kissed my son, a long, close, full lipped kiss, arms around his neck holding him to me.

"You know we can't do this at home, don't you?"

"I know, Mom."

"When we get home, I'm going to arrange a holiday so we can be together, alone."

"That's great, Mom."

"Do you want to know where?"

"I don't care," Nick replied, trying to kiss me again. I let him.

The door opened before we were finished and we had to step by a surprised couple waiting for the elevator. We laughed and I ran ahead, letting Nick watch me. I have always known how to attract men and felt odd but elated to be working my ways on my son. He wouldn't open the door until I let him kiss me again. This time he slid his tongue into my mouth and I let him do that too, and I allowed his hand on my breast.

We stumbled into the hallway where Nick engaged me in a serious kiss and an alarmingly fantastic and enthusiastic fondling of my breasts.

"Nick, we can't. We can't do that, even away from home."

"I know, Mom. We can't," he replied, kissing me again, his hands slipping around to my back to unzip my dress. I returned his kiss and didn't block his hands from reaching inside to take hold of my tits.

When the kiss ended, I turned and stumbled into the bedroom. Nick caught up to me before I reached the bed, his hands slipping inside my dress once more and taking full possession of my breasts and nipples, his lips on my neck, my cheek, my ear, his tongue, oh god. He turned my head to kiss me again, tongue deep inside as he pressed his hardness into my ass.

"We can't, Nick."

"I know."

One hand left a breast, leaving it deprived and cold. I felt him fumbling behind me and knew he was undoing his jeans. He kept kissing me, then pulled my dress off my shoulder and ran his tongue along its length as he grasped my tit once more.

"Nick. We can't."

"I know."

My dress was on the floor. How had that happened? His bare cock was pressing against my ass, unimpeded by the thong-like panties I was wearing until its head pushed so far in that the material poked inside my wet pussy. The image of his beautiful cock, as I'd seen it just before he plunged it inside Leanne, filled my mind. Oh god. Couldn't I do it just once. Father was gone. This is for me, not him.

No, I can't. I stepped forward, trying to get away, crawling onto the bed.

Nick followed, capturing me just as I reached the pillows and fell onto my tummy, powerless to stop him. He turned me onto my back. I closed my eyes, felt his hands on my panties, pulling them down and then up my legs, deliberately, not hurriedly, seeming to enjoy the scrape of his hands on my legs as much as I did. Peeling the panties over my feet and toes, he opened my legs wide and then closed them before bending my thighs back toward my tummy, his hands behind my knees.

"We can't Nick."

"I know," he gasped.

He kept pushing my legs back, raising my tailbone from the mattress. I opened my eyes to see him squatting over me, on his feet, his cock hovering over my entrance. Still, he pushed my legs further back until they were as far as I had held Leanne's for him. I engaged his eyes as he raised himself up on his legs but lowered his hips so his cock was almost touching me.

"Nick, we can't," I said firmly.

"I know, mother."

He dipped and pushed his cock against my pussy, rubbing his head through my wet slit.

"I mean it, Nick. We can't."

"I know, Mom."

He was inside. Just that little nudge and his cock head was inside me. Push, push, he filled me, sliding his whole cock through my grasping, pulsing channel.

"Nick, don't."

Deeper, deeper. God he was still sliding in.

Bottom. He was was all the way in. Plugging me. Leaning over, his hands on my ankles by my shoulders. He wasn't moving, he just filled me.

"Feel this, mom."

I didn't feel anything for a minute but then I felt the smallest vibration, deep inside me. He was wiggling his cock. I could see his face strain with the effort. He didn't move, just wiggled his cock in me. What a strange feeling. At my age, to feel something new inside my pussy. I concentrated on his vibrations, losing myself in it, reacting, anticipating, squeezing back, clutching. God. He was in control. I couldn't stop reacting now no matter how hard I tried, but I had never felt like this and I wasn't so sure I wanted to. My pussy was throbbing.

Now he was moving. Not in and out, not yet. Just rocking, pulsing, the shocks reverberating through my entire body. Come on. Fuck me. Just fuck me!

He's barely moving. Jesus, that quivering sensation in my core, permeating my body. Move, please move. I couldn't do anything, I was held too tight, bent almost in half. All I could move was my pussy, grabbing, clenching, squeezing. That little rocking motion. Maddening. Shove it harder! Oh, god. That's it. Push in.

What's he doing? He's not pulling out. Just quick thrusts. He's shoving me into the mattress, bouncing me back onto his pole. Yes. Bounce me harder. That's it. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Ah yessss.

Oh, no. Too far. Don't come out. No. Push up, come on Gwen, push up, grab his cock, get it with your pussy, don't let it go, squeeeeeeze it. Yes, I've got it, can't get away now. Oh god, I'm squeezing it hard, as hard as I can. Oh, yes. That's it. Hard. Harder. Fast yeah, fuck me fast. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Oh, beautiful boy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I'm hanging on. Hard. As hard as you can, yeah, fast, I'm hanging on. Oh god. OH GOD. Ahhhhhhhhhh.

He fell on me, gasping, even louder than I was. He let go of my legs, they fell to the bed. His cock was still inside, all the way, but he just lay there, exhausted, gasping for breath. He was heavy. I pushed and he rolled away, to the side. I stayed close, rolling with him, keeping him inside me, following him over onto his back, spreading my legs wide over his hips.

Now I could move. I squeezed his cock tight, pressing my hips against his pelvis, trapping him inside me. I could feel his come seeping out of me as I clenched him hard.

"Mom, don't."

I grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands behind his head, locking them in place. I scrunched my hips down on him and circled my pussy around his root. He gasped.

"Mom don't."

A dozen quick hunches of my hips, a dozen little fucks, oh feel him get hard, feel it stiffen inside me, reaching, wanting more. That's right you little bastard, I thought as I drew myself slowly up his rigid shaft. Doesn't that feel good. I paused at the top, hovering over his tip, pulling off and setting my wet slit down over his head, again and again. Then once more, a quick twist, and then plop, right down with a slap and a grinding fuck all around his root.

Over and over and over. He gasped every time I dropped on him and moaned while I teased his tip. Once, only once, he tried to get up, to take control. But I bit him. Christ, I bit my son. He didn't try it again.

Finally, I couldn't take it any more. I pulled his hands from behind his head and put them on my tits, leaned into him, and began to steadily fuck him, riding his poor, desperate pole. Oh, I worked it. He wouldn't want to stick it anywhere for a few days. I was really slapping on him when it came. Another huge orgasm. I wailed out loud. I hadn't done that for many, many years.

Afterwards, after we had our separate showers, just before sleep, I spoke.

"Nick, we're going home tomorrow, and we're going on a vacation."

"Where?" was all he said.

"I don't know. Europe."

"What about Dad?"

"He can come or stay, but we're going."

"But if he comes?"

"It's too early now but eventually, he'll learn to disappear for a while." It was harsh, but it was the truth.

"I love you Mom," he whispered.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

It was a good thing we loved each other. I had the drafts but only Nick could cash them.

Sore or not, the next morning I woke up on my tummy, looking at the sunlight streaming into the room, with that thing of his inside me, from behind.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked.

"A while," he grunted back, not missing a stroke, shoving my hips from side to side to vary his thrusts now that I was awake.

I knew he was telling the truth by the wet sounds of my soaking pussy as he picked up his pace and really let me have it.

Later that morning, as I was checking out and Nick had gone to get the car, that woman was waiting for me when I turned around, elegantly dressed as usual. She handed me an envelope, speaking in response to the quizzical expression that must have covered my face.

"He had second thoughts just before he died," she said. "He said you were to have this if a certain event occurred." She turned and quickly walked away, her heels clacking on the tile floor.

I opened it. Seventeen million and some odd hundred thousand dollars.

I stood there, draft in hand. Did she know? Who else had seen?

It doesn't matter, Gwen. Even if this showed that he thought it likely, he didn't see it and didn't know. You didn't do it for him.

I walked out, proud and strong. I could hardly wait to take my son to Europe.









