Perilous Expressions
A frustrated son learns to express his feelings.
Author's note: I've re-submitted an edited version of this story with a few modifications to the ending.

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I pushed my mother's bedroom door open with my shoulder and walked inside, setting the pile of clean laundry on her bed. The smell of floral shampoo wafted out of the en suite bathroom.

"Those clothes better be folded." Her voice came from behind the bathroom's door, left ajar by about six inches. Would she ever stop nagging me?

"Yup," I replied shortly, turning to walk out. I had been given many more chores to get to that Saturday afternoon as part of my punishment.

As I passed by the bathroom door I happened to glance through the gap and saw the mirror's reflection. Though it was a bit foggy from her shower, I could see Mom standing in front of it. She was putting on earrings. Her wet hair was brushed backward behind her ears and hung over her shoulders. She was completely nude.

I froze.

I was now in a situation in which all young men will eventually find themselves. When through some accident or coincidence, our merciful God decides to grant us one chance to truly see the woman who brought us into this world -- to look upon her true form. Today was my day, and though my mother was one of the coldest women on this planet, proudly vindictive and cruel, I did not squander the gift the Lord had offered me.

From the thick patch of blonde hair between her legs, across her toned abdomen, to the meaty teardrops on her chest, I scanned her entire body -- committing the sight to permanent memory.

As I spied, my dick swelled and my hand instinctively rubbed across it and squeezed. What a body! Mom might be a bitch, but she was gorgeous.

She finished with her earrings and picked up a tub of cream, dipping her fingers inside and retrieving a large glob. I stood and watched, mesmerized and unable to move. She rubbed the cream together in her hands for a moment, warming it, before applying it to her breasts, arms, legs, and ass. She really took her time to rub all of it into her smooth skin. Minutes passed.

Then she retrieved a different tub and took a much smaller glob of lotion out of it with just her finger tips. She leaned forward and was about to apply it to her cheeks when she froze, her face mere inches from the mirror. A sly grin spread across the reflection of her face and her head remained still as her eyes moved to meet my own. We looked at each other for a long moment, her grin remaining. She returned her eyes to her own reflection and continued dabbing the cream onto her face. She said nothing and made no effort to cover up. What the hell? After 18 years of psychological abuse she was now basically telling me, "go ahead and watch."

The image of elegance, my mother, Claire, slowly turned and cocked her hip to the side while facing the mirror over her shoulder. Her eyes approvingly scanned up and down her thin body. She was very aware of her sex appeal, and I, too, was becoming aware of it while she gifted me the opportunity to ogle her small ass. Incredible! Thoughts of burying face between those cheeks ran through my mind.

Finally, she took a thin blue robe from the hook behind her and dawned it, loosely tying the sash.

The bathroom door flew open and she stepped out, her satisfied eyes boring into my own. She was still grinning and I knew what that meant. "So, my only son is both a thief and a pervert?"

It had been a trap. I should have known.

---

"So did anything happen this week that you'd like to talk about?"

The event in Mom's bedroom from the day before flashed through my mind. I remembered her soft laughter as I had stormed out of her room, leaving her standing there in her thin blue robe and still sporting that satisfied smile.

"Nope," I said. I wasn't about to tell anyone about that. And I definitely wasn't ready to start analyzing why I had been compelled to stay up half the night wearing my cock out thinking about what I'd seen.

"Okay, then perhaps we can continue our discussion from the last session? You were beginning to tell me about your childhood."

After acting out in school too many times, my school counselor had recommended that I speak with a professional therapist as a way of dealing with my anger. My parents had reluctantly agreed to pay for it and I had reluctantly agreed to do it. I didn't want to feel like this forever -- with bottled up rage -- and if talking to some old guy about it would help, I was willing to try. It turned out not to be an old guy, but a rather refined woman in her mid-60s. She had wavy, silver hair and a full body. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed meeting with Jillian.

Jill's office was a plain beige with comfortable, brown furniture. Few ornaments adorned the walls and there weren't many decorations apart from a couple small corner tables holding leafy, green plants. She had created a calming environment without much to be distracted by.

On her desk were little more than a few pieces of paper and a single picture frame. I happened to have glanced at it as I had entered 20 minutes earlier. It was a photo of a middle-aged Jillian, looking much younger and prettier. There was an even younger man at her side with his arm wrapped around her. They had the same eyes.

I took a sip of the tea she had offered me.

This was our third session. The first couple of meetings had been awkward and quiet. Turns out it's not so easy to open up after suppressing your feelings for over a decade.

"Brent?"

I snapped out of my daydream. The images of my mother in front of the mirror vanished from my mind. My mom lived in my head. Sure, I hated her, but I couldn't stop thinking about her.

"My childhood, huh? I don't even know where to start."

"Why don't you tell me about your parents?" Her gaze was direct yet compassionate. She was the kind of person you felt you didn't need to lie to -- a strong person.

"To be honest, I've never really felt like I had parents," I began, surprised to hear myself opening up. "My dad is pretty distant. Him and I have never really talked. I feel like I barely know him."

"Hmmm..." Jill made a note before meeting my eyes again. "And your mother?"

Reflexively I let out a snort of laughter. I couldn't help it. "Calling her my mother is stretch. She might have given birth to me but she's never done anything motherly for me." I began to play with a loose thread on the arm of the chair.

Jill's eyebrows rose slightly but she kept the rest of her face neutral. "Okay, then," she nodded. "I think we found a good place to start. Would you like to tell me more about her?"

"She isn't nice to me. Never has been. And... I really don't know why."

"Not nice? What makes you say that?"

"It's like... she enjoys making me suffer. Whenever she finds out about something I like, she finds a way to use it against me."

Jill made another note. "That must be really hard, Brent. Go on. I'm listening."

"Back when I was a little kid, once she found out which toy was my favorite, she would always take it away, just to have something over me. And she always had this cold expression when I cried, like she was getting some kind of deep satisfaction from it. I would watch other families in public, wondering why Mom never stroked my hair or hugged me the way those mothers did with their sons. It wasn't just that she was neglecting me. It was that she was actively working against me. She was working to prevent me from having things that made me happy."

Jill watched me intently as I continued. It felt strange to be talking to somebody who actually cared.

"As soon as she found out that I had a crush on a girl at school she would make sure to embarrass me in front of her. It's like... she is just against me. If I wanted to go on a school trip, she'd say no and keep me home to do chores. If I wanted to go to a party, she'd find some reason to ground me and keep me in the house--"

I started to ramble then. Jill let me go on for a while, listening attentively to my grievances as I dumped out my resentment. I talked about never being allowed to invite my friends over for my birthday, being forced to attend church most of my life, and the endless pile of chores I did around the house.

Jillian interjected once or twice as I spoke. "You must feel like you are in a straight-jacket, Brent. Like you've never been free to express yourself or do what you want."

Yes! That was it -- a straight-jacket. Jillian was really empathizing with me. Was this the first time in my life that I'd felt validated?

I went on, now talking about the time Mom had caught me talking to Rebeckah, a girl from my class, on the phone. She'd listened in with the other receiver for a few minutes before announcing into the mouthpiece that it was past my bedtime and for Rebeckah never to call again. I was mortified, furious, and humiliated.

The stories flooded out. To finally release them was a huge relief. But it also put something into perspective for me. I realized why the incident in her bedroom had disturbed me so much. Mom's mission was to find out about anything I liked or wanted and then to use it to control me and make me suffer. She had always been like that. And after catching me looking at her she now knew about something else I liked -- her.

---

The reason I was in trouble in the first place was actually pretty stupid. For the first time in my life I had actually been invited to a party. I had been asked by Lisah, a cute girl I knew from chemistry class. Obviously I didn't want my folks, especially Mom, to know that I was planning to go out with a girl. But that wouldn't be a problem; I would just sneak out after they went to bed. The real issue was that Lisah had told me I had to bring a bottle of whiskey if I wanted to get into the party. I didn't have any money as I had never had a job and my parents certainly didn't pay me an allowance. Mom had always told me that my chores were payment for everything they gave me and that I should just be grateful I hadn't been kicked out yet.

I just knew that I'd be able to hook up with Lisah if I did what she'd asked. At age 18, I still hadn't gotten any real action. So, desperate, I'd stolen 40 bucks out of my mom's purse. Of course, it was just my luck when she'd walked around the corner at the perfect moment to see me with her purse in one hand and the cash in the other. Mom's dainty, soft footsteps had been my demise.

You'd expect, in a situation like that, that a mother would be furious -- her face contorting in anger. But not mine. She'd only smiled, knowing that she now had yet another reason, this time legitimate, to torture me. The list of chores I had been doing as my punishment was limitless.

The next day in class I'd told Lisah I wouldn't be able to make it. She hadn't seemed too disappointed. "It's okay. Burt can bring the booze," she'd shrugged. Damn!

Now I was stuck at home paying for my sins. It wasn't fair. But I had stopped expecting fairness from life a long time ago.

---

I arrived home from my session with Jill and put my bike in the garage. I saw, after heading into the kitchen, that my parents had already eaten dinner, but Mom had left a plate of food out for me. I ate the broccoli and brown rice by myself before getting to work on the dishes. They had been left for me, as well.

I was scrubbing a particularly dirty pot when I heard Mom speak behind me.

"So it turns out that I raised a degenerate, huh? Where could I have gone wrong with you?"

I ignored her. Refusing to take the bait, I continued scrubbing the pot.

"You think it's appropriate to peep on women in the bathroom?"

My blood was boiling. Breathing slow and deep, I stopped washing as I tried with all the patience I could muster to not give her the reaction she wanted. Was I a bad person for having watched her in the mirror? It's not like I could have stopped myself even if I'd wanted to. Even so, I did feel ashamed. Why can't Mom just lay off already?!

"You'll be cutting the grass tomorrow, as well. And you'll wash my car. Perverts need to learn their lesson."

I slammed the dish brush down causing soapy water to splash onto my shirt and the floor as I spun around to face her.

"I'm not a pervert!"

"Well it appears that therapy isn't doing much for that anger problem, after all. I told you it was just mumbo-jumbo."

I stared daggers at her, fighting to control my breath.

She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed under her breasts and hip cocked to the side. She wore a tight white top that revealed her belly button and a pair of dark-blue jeans that hugged her hips and legs. Her curly blonde hair hung on her shoulders and framed her pretty, sharp-featured face. Even at forty she appeared youthful. She looked content -- her neutral facial expression betraying nothing.

She turned to leave. Unable to stop myself, I let my eyes fall to her butt as she swayed it back and forth. She looked great in those tight jeans.

Suddenly, Mom looked back over her shoulder, catching me again! She flashed that same evil smirk. "Not a pervert? Then why can't you seem to keep your eyes to yourself?"

Furious, I let my gaze fall downward.

"You'll mop the kitchen floor, too, until you learn to control yourself."

"Whatever," I muttered.

She walked away, continuing to give her hips an extra swing with each step.

My eyes returned to her rear, powerless to look away. I watched her, hating that my dick would be taking another beating that night.

---

Each week as I spoke with Jill I found it easier to open up. I had basically told her everything about my past and my mother except for the way my body had recently been reacting.

"I think you should try to find a way to connect with her." Jill looked down at the photo on her desk as she spoke to me, pausing momentarily. "It's important for young men to connect with their mothers."

"Connect? Are you kidding? Her favorite thing to do is torment me. It's like she resents me for existing."

"She's just expressing herself, Brent. And as rough as it sounds, her message seems to be getting through. But you know what? You are free to express yourself, too."

I thought about that for a moment. It made sense. In fact, it might have been the most therapeutic thing anybody had ever said to me. If Mom was free to express her feelings to me, why shouldn't I be free to do the same?

"Have you ever told her how you feel? Asked her why she treats you like this?"

"No," I said. "We don't really talk like that in my house."

"Would you be willing to try? To be vulnerable?"

I had to be honest. "I don't think so. I can barely stand being in the same room as her. Whenever she's around I just feel this urge to get away. It feels like survival. I don't want to be vulnerable with her. If I had more money, I'd move out and never speak to her again."

"What about with your Dad?"

"Like I said, him and I don't talk much."

"But would you be willing to try to speak with him?"

"I guess."

"Hmmm..." Jill mused to herself. "I'm going to give you a homework assignment this week. First, I want you to talk to your father. Ask him about your mom's behavior."

I took a moment to think. "Okay."

"And your second assignment is this. Express yourself to your mom. It doesn't have to be words. You don't have to connect. The keyword is express. Just show your feelings in some way so that she knows what is going on inside your head. You can't just keep this frustration inside forever."

She took a breath before continuing.

"Believe me, Brent. When a son starts expressing himself to his mother, magical things can happen. That's all I'll say."

---

The next night I was sitting in our small office room using the family computer to type an essay for school. Not having much time for homework meant that I had started to fall behind. I couldn't afford to be punished for poor grades on top of everything else, so tonight I absolutely needed to finish writing this damn essay.

I was half-way done when a familiar scent filled my nostrils -- Mom's perfume. She hadn't been wearing it at dinner. I tensed, keeping my eyes on the computer monitor as she approached and leaned on the cluttered desk beside me. In the corner of my vision I saw the meat of her butt pressing against the brown wood. I stopped typing and eyed the tight beige fabric of her capri pants as it hugged her hips, so close to my elbow. My heart rate was already increasing. Damn! Why did my body have to react like this?

A few hours earlier, dinner had been a quiet meal. Mom had worn a blue blouse, buttoned up tight to her throat, while sitting at the head of the table. Neither of my parents had spoken much while we'd eaten as a family.

Having plans, Dad had eaten quickly and, finishing first, started to carry his dishes to the kitchen.

"Leave those," Mom had calmly commanded. "Brent will clear the table." She'd continued nibbling at the green peas still on her plate.

"Uhh... sorry, son," he'd muttered as he set his plate back on the table.

"Enjoy your poker night, dear," Mom had softly told him, bidding him farewell.

"Thanks, Claire," Dad'd said, bending to peck her cheek before leaving.

A few minutes later, Mom had stood to leave as well, not needing to remind me that the clean-up was my responsibility.

"What are you working on?" Mom now asked, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and looking down at me in the computer chair.

"Nothing."

"Don't be short with me. I need to use the computer." She wasn't exactly doing anything mean to me, but her voice conveyed her contempt, none-the-less.

"I'm typing an essay for school."

"You're not done your chores yet. The basement needs to be vacuumed and I need to use the computer. I have to review some accounts for work."

"Mom--" I protested. "This is due tomorrow." I thought she'd be happy to see me working so hard on my homework. I wanted to get into a good school so I could move out of this hellhole.

"I'm your mother and you'll do as I say."

Suppressing my fury, I saved my file into the folder named 'Brent' within 'My Documents', quit the word processor, and slid in the keyboard tray. Standing, I turned to her. Her face was now just inches from my chest. I wouldn't back down from the proximity that she'd initiated. "Go ahead, then."

She stood tall, as well, staring up into my eyes, her mouth tight. For some reason, that moment felt important, like it was my chance to defy her. Express yourself to her. Let her see how you feel. Jillian's words replayed in my mind. Okay, I thought, I'll express myself.

My eyes bore into hers. My expression was firm. In my mind I loudly thought all the words that I wanted to say out loud to her, letting my face communicate them. I knew she would get the message. "Screw you," I thought to her while we stared each other down. "You call yourself my mother? You're far too selfish to ever deserve that title. You're not my mother. You're my enemy!" Somehow I held her gaze as I mentally screamed at her.

Her full lips pressed together and the corners of her mouth curved upward while her posture softened slightly. In the most feminine way she cocked her head slightly and let her chest puff out while quickly flicking her eyes downward one time. I couldn't stop myself and my gaze followed her eyes, falling to her breasts. She had undone several buttons since dinner and her cleavage was clearly displayed. I could even see the thin, front connector of her black bra. It was too much -- her scent, our closeness, the two beautiful swells bulging out of her shirt -- like a dog's tail that begins to wag involuntarily when he sees something he likes, my dick began to harden.
"So you still haven't learned your lesson. Where did you get the idea that you could look at women this way?"

I lashed out, unable to stop myself. The next thing I knew I had her right tit in my hand, cupping and squeezing it. My left hand wrapped around her waist to her low back and pulled her delicate body toward me.

Wordless, Mom gasped, obviously shocked by my brazen behavior. She put her hands against my chest and pushed, trying to pry her torso away from my hungry hands. However, she quickly gave up her futile attempt to escape and dropped her arms to her side.

I continued to kneed and massage her tit meat, now feeling her nipple hardening in my palm. Soon, Mom was breathing hard. She turned her face to the side and simply let me continue my attack. A moment later she actually thrust her chest out farther toward me as I pulled her closer with my left hand.

My rage boiled up as my adrenaline pumped. All the times she had tormented me flashed through my mind. I would get my revenge now. I thought of the girls she had embarrassed me in front of, the girls I was never allowed to date. I never got the chance to feel their boobs. Now I'd feel Mom's instead!

"You-- you can't--" she stammered, unable to look at me. "--touch me like this!"

I lifted my left hand up from her back to grasp Mom's other breast, each hand now claiming and groping it's own prize. Mom was free now, she could simply push me away and step backward any time she wanted. But she stayed in place, even rolling her shoulders backward to jut out her assets even farther into my gropes.

My right hand pinched her still-hardening nipple. Mom gasped and bit her lip. "Brent! You-- need to stop!" Her verbal protests carried little weight as she pressed her chest toward me, beginning to pant.

After another 15 long seconds of massaging, she brought her eyes back to mine. For the first time, I saw something new in them -- fear. I'd exposed Mom's weakness and she couldn't mask her vulnerability.

The front door opened. Dad was home. Reluctantly, I let go of Mom's sweet chest and backed away from her. We stared at each other, both breathing heavily -- hearts pounding. My long tent pointed proudly toward her.

She hastily fastened her buttons, right back up to her throat, and took a slow breath to compose herself. "Go downstairs and do your chores." Her usual, firm, commanding tone had disappeared.

I obeyed, my mind racing. A mixture of emotions took a whirlwind path through my head. Should I feel ashamed of myself? I had basically just assaulted Mom! Yet, I felt more relieved than guilty. Jill was right, it did feel good to express myself.

It would have been impossible to concentrate on school work while the memory of Mom's meat flashed through my mind. No, I did not finish my essay. Instead, I retreated to my room to spend the rest of the night fantasizing about my mother.

---

I sat in the calculus room the next day at school looking at the walls adorned with posters of various equations and charts. There were only a handful of other students in the white-bricked room. Since we'd begun learning derivatives a few kids had become frustrated and dropped the class. Truth be told, I actually found them easy. Like the rest of math, you just needed to follow a few logical steps to get the answer. I never understood why that was so hard for people.

For me it was the arts that gave me trouble. The open-ended writing assignments I got in English and History class always stressed me out the most. People and culture had never made sense to me the way mathematics had.

Normally I spent this period trying to check out Cindy and Beth, a couple of cute seniors who sat near me. But today I just couldn't stop day dreaming about Mom. The feeling of her nipple poking into my palm just kept replaying in my mind. I wondered if I had ever fed from that nipple or if such a cold woman would even breastfeed her baby.

"Brent, do you have the answer to question 2a?" The teacher's stern voice snapped me back to reality.

"Uhh--" I stammered, flipping open the textbook and quickly finding the page we were reading that day. Cindy and a few other students giggled.

I took a few seconds to mentally differentiate the polynomial. Just multiply the exponent with the coefficient, subtract 1, and...

"It's 2x minus 4, sir."

"Very good, Brent."

Thankfully he moved on to somebody else then, saying nothing about my disorganization. Within five minutes, I was back in fantasy land.

Suddenly a thought hit me like a truck. What if she told Dad what I'd done!? She surely already had! Oh, god! I'm screwed now! My heart raced. How could I have been so dumb?

Panic ruled me throughout the rest of the day as I dreaded what awaited me at home. Would Dad beat me to a pulp or just kick me out? My only solace was the fact that I'd actually done Jillian's assignment. Whatever consequences awaited me, at least I'd expressed myself.

My parents were still out when I arrived home from school. I went into the basement and sat on the couch, trying to calm my worried thoughts as I heard Dad arrive home from work.

A few minutes later, Dad came to the basement, too. I held my breath.

Dad plopped down in his chair and switched on the TV, saying nothing. Slowly, I realized that he was acting normal. He wasn't mad! I guess Mom hadn't told him. I was in the clear! I exhaled and let my body relax.

Then came a new thought. Why hadn't she told him? Maybe she didn't know how. Maybe she would deal with me herself? Maybe she... wanted me to touch her again? I didn't permit myself to get too excited by that final possibility.

Dad and I watched television together for a few minutes. Then I remembered the rest of Jill's assignment. I needed to talk to Dad about Mom.

"Hey Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, kid. What's up?" Dad was in a good mood. He must have won money last night at poker.

"What was Mom like before you two had me?"

"Hmm... what do you mean?"

"Well... was she always so--?" I couldn't seem to find the word.

"Bitchy?" Dad finished for me.

I laughed. "Yeah."

Dad shut off the TV before speaking. "No, she wasn't. Actually, she was quite happy when we had you. The only thing was, she wanted to have a second child. And even more after that."

"Oh?"

"A couple years after you were born, she got pregnant again. But we had a miscarriage. Mom ended up depressed after that. Actually, she had to take some time off work. Eventually she became functional again, but she wasn't the same. Her depression was gone, but her personality was different. It was like she had transformed her depression into coldness. She became a lot meaner then. Maybe she was always like that deep down and just couldn't mask it anymore. Or maybe she created this persona to protect herself. I don't know."

My folks had tried to conceive again? I always believed that they had chosen to only have one kid. So I wasn't meant to be an only child? Wow, it would have been really cool to have had a little brother! My life would have been a lot nicer and a lot less lonely and miserable.

Dad continued, "No more pregnancies came after that, Brent. We kept trying. Eventually we went to the doctor and found out that I've become sterile. I'm shootin' blanks, son."

Wow! Dad couldn't knock Mom up anymore? No wonder she was cranky.

"She really wanted more children and was devastated to learn that wasn't going to happen. She's been moody and mean ever since, kid. Yeah, it's selfish of her, but it's just the way things are now. Believe me, you're not the only one she takes it out on."

---

"Did you do your assignment from last week?" Jillian asked. She took a sip of her tea. Mine still sat on the small table beside me. I've never liked trying to drink it while it's still hot.

I was in her office again, we had been speaking for about 15 minutes but only dancing around the topic of my parents. For some reason I was reluctant to start talking about what I'd learned from Dad.

"Yes, I spoke with my dad."

"That's great! What about the other part? Did you... express yourself?"

"In a way."

Jill smiled and raised her eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?" She leaned back and took another sip.

"Sure," I said. I opened my mouth and, to my shock, almost began to tell Jill the truth about what happened in the computer room. I was really getting comfortable in these sessions. Thinking twice, I continued, "Mom was provoking me and I... reacted."

"So you told her how you feel? That's great."

"I didn't exactly talk to her. But she got the message. I don't really want to go into the details."

Jill smiled knowingly, glancing again at the young man in her photo. "That's okay." She continued, "and the conversation with your father?"

"It was revealing. Apparently Mom changed a little after I was born."

"Yeah?"

"Dad says she always wanted more kids. She was pregnant at one point, but I guess they lost it. They tried again but it didn't work. Dad's seed wasn't strong enough. After that Mom started to change."

"The desire to mother a lot of children is strong in all females." Jill said, thoughtfully. "When a woman is denied that happiness, she might react in different ways. I guess your mom didn't take it very well. It might be selfish, but some people do turn sour over things like that."

Hearing Jill summarize the situation like that gave me a new perspective and I saw clearly then how fucked up my circumstance truly was. "My mom ruined my life because hers didn't work out the way she wanted? How is that fair?!" Something broke in me. "Why did she have to take it out on me?" I almost yelled. In my moment of clarity I saw that Mom wasn't somebody for me to be afraid of. She didn't have authority over me. I was an adult, just like her. But she was the one who couldn't grow up and deal with her own shitty emotions.

Jill listened to my outburst, noting the emotion in my voice. "Brent, you grew up looking at your mother as an authority figure. Like a person with special significance -- someone who had all the answers even if they weren't convenient for you. This gave her the leverage to hurt you as much as she obviously has. And now, maybe for the first time, you're seeing her as a person, as a woman, rather than just as your mother. We all go through this at some point in our lives -- when our parents become humans."

I listened.

"Sometimes humanizing our view of people means understanding that they are not perfect -- that they're flawed."

"Oh, I've known for a long time that she's flawed." I actually laughed a bit.

Jillian smiled. "This is progress, Brent."

I exhaled slowly and nodded. Jill was right. Even though the truth could be bitter-sweet, I was moving forward by accepting it.

"There is a time when the right thing to do is to stand up to our parents. Maybe that time has come for you."

"I'd say so," I agreed. And I meant it. I couldn't wait for another chance to defy her.

---

It turned out that I didn't have to wait very long for that opportunity. The next Sunday Mom barged into my room and abruptly flicked the light on as I groggily woke up.

"Time for church, Brent."

"I'm not going to church."

"Yes, you are."

I knew this was my chance. "Hell no, I'm not."

"Do NOT talk back to me, young man. And do not curse. The Lord is watching. Now get your ungrateful ass out of bed and put on something nice. I won't have you embarrassing me in front of the church ladies today. Get ready now or your extra chores will last another month."

My survival instincts kicked in and I felt myself beginning to cower at her harsh words, as I had always done. No! Not this time. I got up and stood tall in front of her. My protruding morning wood was still semi-hard and jutted out in obvious fashion against my loose pajama pants. I didn't try to hide it as I stood in front of her. Mom's eyes remained glued to mine, but I saw the effort she was making to keep them there.

"I hate church," I stated firmly, mustering all the resolve I could conjure.

"I don't care. As long as you live here, you'll do as I say." She was using her mother-tone again. "Do your father and I make you pay rent? Do we make you pay for your own food or for your useless therapy with that old kook?"

I ignored the question and suppressed the instinct to defend Jill.

"Do we?"

"No."

"Then you'll do as I say."

"But, I don't want to go." I began to falter, unable to think of a good argument.

Mom's voice was stern. "Oh, I think both of us know that you need to walk into that church and pray long and hard for God to forgive your sins this week." She glared at me, her fiery eyes forcing mine downward.

I looked at the carpet. A pang of shame hit me. I thought I had made so much progress toward overcoming this toxic sense of inadequacy, but this one comment made by the woman whom I was programmed to obey brought all those dark feelings back to the surface again.

Suddenly I felt differently about groping her. I had been living in fantasy land, jacking off nightly to the sweet memory of Mom's meat and hadn't even considered how wrong what I'd done was. After all, I had basically attacked my own mother -- and she could still tell someone about it! Plus, even though I wasn't a big fan of church, part of me still wondered if God really was watching and judging me. The shame was overwhelming and I felt like a piece of shit. Could my one moment of fun really have damned my soul to hell?

"Fine, I'll come," I grumbled. The confidence and resolve I had felt in Jill's office was now miles away.

"Good," my satisfied mother responded as she turned and walked out of my room, obviously pleased with herself. "Now come downstairs for breakfast."

I really did hate going to church. Whether or not God was watching us, why would anyone want to go listen to a bunch of old people telling you how to live your life? I think Mom just liked dragging me there to enjoy controlling me. Plus, appearances were important to her and she wanted the community to see her and her son out worshiping like good Christians.

Of course, Mom made me dress up. And she wore something nice, too. A tight blue dress, hugging her trim form beautifully. I didn't mind seeing her in it, to be honest.

Dad drove us. It was a quiet car ride.

---

"You see, my friends," the minister's voice boomed out through the church, "who among us can claim to be without sin? Not I," he humbly admitted. "For though we aspire to be Christ-like, we cannot live up to His example."

This guy had been droning on for 20 minutes now and I was beginning to zone out. Besides, my ass was starting to hurt from being pressed against that hard, wooden pew for so long.

"But this is the beauty of God's everlasting love and mercy. For though we are all sinners, we can all be saved sinners. Through the grace of Jesus, we are forgiven!"

I began to lose focus and daydream as he continued. As always, I started to mentally re-live the day in the computer room. But, like the morning, more guilt crept in as I continued to realize the seriousness of my crime. Maybe Mom's stern words this morning were the catalyst of change, or maybe it was the fact that I was literally in a church, but the more I thought about feeling Mom's glorious globes, the more ashamed I felt. Shockingly, I actually bowed my head and quietly said a prayer -- begging God to forgive me. As long as Mom didn't tell anyone, I might get away with my trespasses here on Earth, but I didn't want to put my eternal soul at risk, either. I resolved in that moment to keep my thoughts pure. It would be tough, but I would never self-pleasure while thinking about Mom ever again.

"God sent his one and only son, Jesus," the voice continued, rising in crescendo, "so that who-so-ever beliefeth in him shall not perish, folks, but will have eternal life in heaven with God the Father! Praise be unto the Lord!" A few people cheered.

Maybe forgiveness really was possible. I just needed to accept Jesus and everything'd be okay.

I tried my best to pay attention to the rest of the sermon but before long my mind was once again wandering. I looked around the room at the high, stone ceiling and the colorful stained-glass windows. Then I began to look at the people. Most of us church-goers were dressed up for the occasion. The men wore suits and ties and the woman wore nice dresses or blouses.

As my gaze scanned the room I took note of the handful of good-looking girls. There were a few my age and I really liked the way most of them had their hair in tight-braids. Maybe I should be chasing some of them rather than the chicks at school who obviously weren't interested. Mom might not give me such a hard time either if I was dating a nice, church girl. On the other hand, these Christian chicks would make me wait forever before giving me what I really wanted.

I continued scanning the room until my eyes landed on the woman sitting directly beside me -- Mom. I had to admit the truth: even being a bit older, she was better looking than any other lady in that room. Her dress stopped near the top of her knees and her smooth, white legs simply looked great. Her toe nails were painted to match her dress and were shown off beautifully in her white sandals. Of all the criticisms you could make of her, you could never say that she doesn't take care of herself. It was clear that Mom took immense pride in her appearance. Over the years, I had become used to seeing men glancing in her direction. Despite my mixed feelings about her, it was pretty cool to have the best-looking Mom in town.

"And one day, ladies and gentlemen," the loud voice went on, "all will know the Grace of God. One day, folks, every knee shall bow before His Majesty!"

I knew I shouldn't, but I permitted myself to steal a few glances up and down Mom's legs. Her white skin was just so mesmerizing! My gaze followed her legs from her pedicured toe nails, across the sexy bones of her feet and ankles, along her toned calves, and over the hem of her tight dress until it arrived at her hips. A little bit of butt meat squished out to the side against the blue fabric. Holy hell, it was going to be tough to stick to my new "pure thoughts only" plan.

Until this point, Mom had kept her hands gently clasped in her lap. But now she moved one to rest on her right, on the red wood between us. A moment later she began to slide it down her thigh until her finger tips arrived at the hem near her knee.

I watched, transfixed, my eyes opening wider. What would she do next?

"But that day will not come until all have known the word of God," the pastor continued. "Not until everyone has heard the teachings of Jesus will his triumphant return come to pass."

She toyed listlessly with her dress, before pinching its hem between her thumb and first finger. Slowly, she began to drag it higher up her thigh. It was almost imperceptible. She could have simply been scratching an itch, but when she stopped her dress was definitely higher. I was treated to a view of at least one extra inch of white thigh.

"Until that day, folks, we must bear witness to those who are not saved. We must spread His Message, as he has called us to do. We must be soldiers for Christ!"

Slowly she tugged the dress even higher, showing yet another inch of beautiful white skin. My eyes bulged out of my head. Was it wrong to get a hard-on in church? I might need to pray again later and ask for some more forgiveness. In so short a time after vowing to keep Mom out of my fantasies, here I was wondering what color of panties she was wearing.

The people sitting behind or beside us wouldn't have been able to see what was holding my attention, but they'd certainly see me staring downward at something obviously interesting. I knew I should look away, but I just couldn't.
Then I saw her head move in the corner of my eye. She turned her head toward me very slightly and I automatically looked up at her. Her eyes were looking to her right as she kept her head almost facing forward. Our eyes met and she grinned knowingly the same way as the day in the bathroom.

Even after what had happened, I felt a pang of shame at being caught and exposed. More than anything, it was embarrassing to be manipulated so easily by a woman I hated. My eyes snapped forward and I spent the rest of the service listening to the sermon and watching the preacher.

How was I supposed to stand up to her and start earning some respect when she could so easily shame me? Why did my stupid body keep reacting to her?

---

An hour later we were finally leaving. After the sermon and closing songs, we had socialized in the lobby for 15 minutes. Mom had smiled and chatted with the other women while Dad and I drank coffee and stood nearby. I thought about trying to talk to some of the girls my age but chickened out. Once Mom was satisfied that she'd put in enough face time to secure our family's reputation as a good "church-going" family, we left.

The three of us walked to the car together, Mom and I ahead and Dad a little way behind.

I got into the back seat of the car and the moment I pulled the door closed Mom spun around to face me, her blonde curls bouncing. "You better hope that none of the ladies saw the way you were looking at me."

I said nothing.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, ogling your mother like that in church."

I was, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I smiled at her. Any shame I felt was turning to anger, then to fuel to start fighting back. On that church pew, Mom had set another trap for me, just like the one in her bathroom mirror. But this time I couldn't let her win. Why did Mom keep luring me in, only to vitriolically castigate me afterwards? I thought about her heavy breathing and hard nipples back in the computer room. She must have been fighting her own battle -- her mind and body each wanting different things.

I went on the offensive. "Don't worry, Mom. I won't tell Dad how you've been behaving."

Mom snorted. She opened her mouth but seemed to forget what she was going to say.

As Dad was about to arrive at the car she turned back around and faced forward, quickly speaking once more as Dad reached for the door handle. "You know you're never going to get what you're after. Don't even try."

I stared at the back of her head as we drove home. Her perfect curls rested on her shoulders and the scent of her perfume filled the car. Mom and Dad made small talk the whole drive.

Don't even try.

Mom's words repeated in my mind. I started to question my earlier resolution to remain pure. In fact, a few impure thoughts were already entering my head. I wanted to "express" myself again. I wanted to push her up against a wall. I wanted to tear that fine dress right off of her!

I wisely avoided Mom for the rest of the day. She continued wearing the same outfit all afternoon and I feared that I might actually act on my frustrations.

In my room, processing everything that had been happening, those words continued to echo.

Don't even try...

---

I kept my cool throughout the next two weeks. Actually, they were pretty uneventful. My life became a boring, repeating routine of school, homework, and chores during which I managed to basically ignore Mom. My weekly meetings with Jill came and went. We spent them discussing new topics -- things I was interested in, my future, career options, etc... I started to really love our sessions. I trusted Jillian. She was probably the first person to make me feel supported. It was great to be able to confide in someone who was quickly filling the void where a female role-model should have been.

My self-respect continued to grow as I re-dedicated myself to school and started to see my grades getting better. My conversations with Jill about future-planning really helped me to feel positive about myself and the future. Soon I'd graduate and, with my rising grades, I'd get into college, for sure. Maybe not university, but at least I'd get a diploma and be able to start a career. Wow, I thought, I'm actually going to have a shot at a nice life.

I started putting up some boundaries with Mom, realizing how important they were to a healthy relationship. But I did have to choose my battles with her. I ended up back in church a couple of times, knowing that it was futile to argue. After all, I was still in my parents' house living rent-free. Sitting on those pews for two hours each week, I was able to keep my eyes forward the whole time -- not allowing my gaze to drift toward Mom and whichever elegant dress she was wearing.

However, when it came to the litany of chores I'd been tasked with, I was able to push back a little. One day when Mom told me to organize the garage I told her I was going to do homework instead. Surprisingly, she didn't object. A few days later she demanded that I wash her car. I simply didn't do it and, again, she let it slide. I was starting to fight for some more freedom and it was working!

I told all this to Jill one day.

"Brent, it's been such a pleasure watching you brighten up. You must feel like you can finally breathe!" She beamed at me. She looked really pretty in that moment, smiling from ear to ear. She's actually happy for me. The feeling was new for me. I almost shed a tear at the wave of emotion.

"Self-esteem is so fundamental, Brent--" she continued "--to not only see yourself as capable of success, but deserving of it."

I thought back to where I was a few months ago: standing in the hallway stealing from Mom's purse, desperate to go to that dumb party. So much had changed between then and now and I knew there was no way I would be feeling so much forward momentum if it hadn't been for Jill's help.

More memories came, too. I thought of all the humiliating moments at Mom's hands, the anger and confusion and inability to place it on something, the never-ending lonely weekends spent in my bedroom, the emptiness and the worthlessness.

Our session ended, but before I left Jill stood and came to me, pulling me in for a hug. Her large breasts pressed against my chest and I smelled the fruity shampoo in her thick, grey hair. A foreign sense of maternal comfort washed over me. I liked it, but tried to pull away, not knowing how to accept the warm feeling of being cared for. Jill held on and even tightened her grasp.

The hug lasted 30 seconds before I broke and started bawling on her shoulder.

---

I have to admit, I didn't tell everything to Jill that day. I left out something that Mom had done about a week after the incident at church.

Mom had come to my bedroom one evening as I sat at my desk punching numbers into my calculator. My math assignment had been due the next day and I'd really wanted a good mark. We had moved on to tougher derivatives and I was finding them challenging.

I'd glanced at her and seen that she was wearing her fluffy, white bathrobe. It had been cinched tightly around her little waist, but the upper lapels had been pulled apart and the V-opening at her neck had extended quite far down her chest.

Mom had leaned on the desk beside me. Her butt had spread out against the tight fabric not far from my right arm. It'd taken a herculean effort but I'd managed to keep my eyes on my work.

"I need you to help me with something," she'd said bluntly.

"I'm busy right now. Got to study."

Mom had slid a tad closer to me until her fluffy robe had barely touched my elbow. I'd smelled her familiar perfume. My annoying dick had started to react to her proximity. It had been getting tougher to not look at her alluring body and give her the satisfaction she wanted.

"This homework is important," I'd reiterated.

She'd put her finger beneath my chin and tilted my head up toward her. "I'm not asking, Brent. Come help your mother." She'd slid the back of her finger upward across my cheek, sensually caressing my face.

Realizing she wasn't going to give up, I had reluctantly agreed.

I'd followed her out of my room. I have to admit, I'd stolen one quick glance up and down her backside, lingering for a second on the shape of her hips jutting out from her thin waist. Luckily I had corrected my gaze before she'd looked back over her shoulder at me, no doubt trying to catch me in the act.

Mom had led me to her room and had immediately sat down on her bed, crossing her legs. The bottom of her robe had slid off of her thigh, exposing almost her entire left leg. She'd leaned back on her hands, letting her chest press forward. Her lapels had slid sideways across her breasts exposing much more of her chest and only stopping before revealing her nipples.

There we were again, Mom clearly trying to entice me only so that she could berate me later. She'd been setting another trap. I'm proud to say that I didn't take the bait and had looked only at her eyes. I was still working hard to keep my thoughts pure. I had made a promise to God, after all.

"So what do you need help with?"

"Those boxes need to go on the top shelf of my closet." Mom had gestured with her chin at a few cardboard boxes sitting on the carpet.

"Why doesn't Dad do this?"

"He has a sore back."

I'd sighed and got to work. There had only been a few boxes to lift and, frankly, they weren't heavy. Mom could probably have done this herself, but I'd known this wasn't really about the boxes.

When I'd turned back around, Mom had opened her robe even more and was now displaying a hint of red nipple on each side of the robe's opening. Still, I'd looked only into her eyes, tapping into the progress I'd been making in therapy to give me strength.

"Anything else?" I'd asked, a hint of defiance in my voice.

"That's all." Mom had said, clearly annoyed.

I had gotten back to my studies then, knowing that Mom would test me again another day.

---

I was right. A few days after I had broken down and cried on Jill's shoulder Mom tried something again.

I was sitting on the couch playing my Gameboy -- one of the new models that actually had a color screen. It was one of the only valuable things I owned and I had only gotten it because it was a Christmas gift from a relative. I had finished mowing the lawn and vacuuming the house. My homework was done. There were no more chores to do and I was finally enjoying some free time.

The shower that had been running in my parents' en suite bathroom shut off.

I heard their bedroom door open and could faintly make out Mom's dainty footsteps as she came down the hall. She was wrapped in a towel, held up precariously by a hand over her breasts. She passed by me on her way to the laundry room without acknowledging me at all. Her wet hair hung brushed over her shoulders and a few drops of water still clung to her toned, bare legs. Mom really did have a natural, almost effortless sex appeal. I suddenly felt childish for playing video games while there were obviously much grander sports available to a man.

I tried not to watch her -- only allowing myself the quickest of glances at the way the towel clung to her figure and just barely covered her butt. All I could think about was how close I was to seeing her snatch, teasingly hidden beneath that flap and definitely not covered by any panties.

She returned from the laundry room carrying a basket and still not acknowledging my presence. As she passed through the living room a pair of her panties slipped from the pile of laundry she held and fell onto the carpet. She just left them there, continuing to her room.

A minute later she emerged again, still wearing the towel, although it was looser now. She held it up with one hand against her chest, only covering one breast. Her right tit was simply hanging free, proudly topped by a puffy nipple! I managed to get my attention back to my Gameboy screen a second before I saw Mom, out of the corner of my eye, turn to check where my gaze was. So she was still intent on catching me.

She bent to pick up the panties that had fallen and the towel slid up just high enough for me to see the bottom of her ass and little tuft of bush peaking out between her legs. For a moment, my eyes ballooned out of my skull and my prick began to harden, but, again, I got my eyes back to my Gameboy quick enough to remain in the clear.

Mom stood, cocking her hip and finally addressing me. "You don't plan to play video games all day, do you?"

"Got everything else done, already." I kept pushing buttons.

"You need to vacuum the basement."

"Already did."

"And mow the lawn."

"Done." I shrugged and kept playing.

Mom snorted and stormed away in a huff. I heard her bedroom door close loudly.

A thought struck me then. I realized how easily I could simply follow Mom into her room. If I wanted her, she was mine. And she was basically asking me for it -- daring me to ravage her. My cock stiffened as I considered how vulnerable she would be with her husband out of the house and wearing only a towel. She was basically beckoning me to try it, to follow her and repeat what I'd done that day by the computer. I could yank that towel off of her. I could see her in her true, naked form. I could take what she had been so cruelly teasing me with. I could fuck her, right there on her marriage bed.

You know you're never going to get what you're after. Don't even try.

Her words came to me once again -- now sounding more like a dare than a warning.

I was rock hard. The only thing giving me strength to resist her was all the progress I'd been making in therapy. I didn't want the twisted, manipulative mothering of Claire. I wanted the healing compassion of Jill.

---

I proudly handed in my English assignment and the end of class, just before hearing the final bell ring and being set free for the day. Leaving school, I hopped on my bike. It was only a 15-minute pedal to get to Jill's office for our weekly session.

I was nervous this time. I think it was because I hadn't seen her since my breakdown, but also because of a decision I'd made. I was going to tell her about what had been going on with Mom. The teasing, the impure thoughts, and maybe even the groping. I really wanted to get past all that stuff. Truly, all I'd been thinking about was getting into college and moving away from my toxic household.

I locked my bike up out front and went inside. Jill's secretary sat in the reception area and I greeted her as always. "Hi, Michelle. I'm here for my 3:30 appointment."

Michelle checked the calendar on her desk and frowned. "Sorry, Brent, I don't have you scheduled for today. Jill isn't even in the office."

"Huh? This is my normal time, though."

"I know it is. This is strange. Let me check something." Michelle looked through a few papers.

"Hmm..." She looked confused. "It looks like all of your sessions have been cancelled. Your funding was actually pulled."

"What?" I cried, shocked.

"Somebody named Claire phoned the other day and revoked your payments, Brent. I'm sorry."

The blood drained out of my face and I fell into the chair opposite Michelle. For a few moments I said nothing.

"But-- I can't afford to pay for this myself. Isn't there anything we can do?"

"There's sometimes public funding available for students in therapy, but since you're over 18, you won't be eligible. Sorry, Brent."

I stood and left.

As I biked home, my confusion slowly turned to rage. Why had she done this? Why had she taken this away from me, as well? Nothing had changed, after all.

I spent the next few hours brooding alone in my room, only coming out to silently join my parents at the dinner table. Mom grinned at me as I sat down, clearly satisfied with herself. I stared daggers at her. After eating I simply left the table and returned to my room, leaving the dishes for somebody else to take care of. Mom didn't say a word.

That night I stared at the ceiling for a long time. I had tried to be positive. A sliver of light had begun to shine into my life. But now it was blocked again and taken away from me just like every other good thing. I felt like a fool for having hope. Life was simply cruel. Nothing would ever change and I would never be so naive again.

---

Over the next week Mom seemed to continue getting a thrill out of trying to entice me. She'd loosen her blouse or play with her dress when she spoke to me and would often bend over near me when she wore those skin-tight jeans. She knew she was torturing me and she loved it. I started to permit myself more and more glances in her direction. Why shouldn't I? I even let a few impure thoughts into my head. God certainly hadn't rewarded me for my earlier efforts. What was the point of trying to live a clean life, anyway?

---

I got home from school one Wednesday afternoon to find only Mom's car in the driveway. Dad was still at work. Just knowing that Mom and I would be alone in the house both angered and titillated me. It was a strange mix, being so aroused and enraged at the same time.

Hearing Mom moving around on the other side of the house, I decided to stay away from her. I spread my homework out on the dining room table and started working on some math problems.

After about 30 minutes, Mom came into the dining room wearing a short, red sundress. The dress had a few buttons covering the bust and a frilly hem which only covered three quarters of her thighs. She must have done pilates today because her legs looked particularly toned.

"You're not still mad at me, are you?" She tried to sound innocent while toying with the upper buttons of her dress. The highest two were already undone.

"Just leave me alone. I'm busy."

Mom spun around, the dress flying up a little as she twirled and walked to the kitchen counter. She took out a cutting board and began to chop some carrots for dinner. "You didn't need that useless therapy, anyways."

"Actually, I did. It was helping me a lot."

"Don't be silly. You've got everything you need here at home. That woman wouldn't have done any good for you."

Apparently the anger that I'd thought I'd dealt with had merely been suppressed because at that moment, it all came flooding back. And it needed an outlet.

This time, it was Jill's words which came to me. You're free to express yourself, too.

The next thing I knew, I had stood up and was marching toward her.

Mom heard me approaching and set the knife down. She turned around and leaned backward on the counter as I arrived before her and stopped. I stood tall and looked down at her -- strong and defiant -- only inches away.

She did her best to hold my gaze. The only betrayal of her nervousness was the tiny quiver of her jaw. She was scared.

I openly looked her up and down, scanning her full body and lingering on her chest for a full ten seconds. Mom gasped faintly when I then confidently reached forward and began to undo the remaining buttons enclosing the swells of her chest.

"Stop it," she said firmly. "Enough of this silliness. We're not going through this again." She weakly pushed me back.

I yanked her dress apart, freeing her braless tits to the kitchen air. Her red nipples were already hardening.

As I took hold of her boobs, one in each hand, goosebumps spread across Mom's upper chest. The feeling of her nipples in my palms was exquisite. For a brief moment I thought of my vow to remain pure and my resolution to ignore Mom. And then that thought was gone and all that existed to me were the two naked breasts being groped and massaged by my greedy hands.

Like the first time, Mom let her arms fall to her sides and allowed my assault to continue. She even pushed her chest forward toward me. "Ooooo, you are in sooo much trouble, young man!" Her breathing was becoming deeper as she moaned out the words.
"Shut up."

She did.

I spun her around, keeping my left hand on her tit and pinching her nipple while I pushed her over the counter top with my right.

I slid my hand across her ass, making small circles over both cheeks. Mom thrust her hips backward against me. After taking a minute to feel and appreciate the shape of her rump and hips I let my hand fall all the way to the backs of her bare thighs before slowly trailing back up, scooping the frilly hem of her dress in my upward stroke. I flipped it onto her back, revealing Mom's ass, covered in a pair of big, white panties. She inhaled loudly and spread her legs a little, pushing herself back toward me.

"How dare you? I'll tell your father what you're doing to me!" She panted, gripping the edge of the counter.

"No, you won't. You won't say a word." I rubbed her butt in a big circle. "Because then you'd also have to tell him what you've been doing." I cupped her sex, pressing my hand into her mound. She inhaled again, loudly, before letting out a long, guttural moan.

"Ohhh, you little bastard!" She moaned again.

I took my hand away and hooked my fingers under the waistband of her panties, quickly yanking them down to her knees, exposing Mom's holes. She had a serious bush. The kind that spread between her legs to fill her ass crack. Even her rear hole was surrounded by blonde hair. What a beaver! For some reason I was happy to see that Mom kept a thick forest of fur down there. It seemed appropriate.

I quickly returned my hand to her nethers and found her furry muff seriously moist. My middle finger explored her slit and pressed against her entrance -- making a few small circles before plunging inside. I was surprised by how tight she felt. Mom whimpered her approval and continued gyrating her hips against me as I began to frig her.

After working her for a minute, I took my finger out and then went back in with two. I squeezed my first and second finger together and plunged them in with a twisting motion -- like a drill bit.

"Ohhh, yes, like that," she instructed me.

My eyes were glued to the action before me as I took in the surreal sight. My attention was continuously drawn to the crinkly hole above my palm -- Mom's ass! I was fascinated by it's dark beauty and a moment later I was rubbing my thumb on it, making small circles with increasing pressure. This seemed to send Mom into overdrive and she began to moan and whimper almost constantly while I violated her.

"Harder! Keep going!" She cried, needing this badly.

I finally let go of her tit and grasped her hip with my left hand, pulling her toward me and humping my stiff cock against her.

I continued frigging her with all my might, loving the feeling of her soft, warm insides as my drenched hand rammed her over and over again. A minute later she began to shake and came with a guttural wail into the counter top.

I pulled out my fingers and grasped both of her hips while continuing to dry hump my jean-covered prick against her ass.

"Hurry, do it!" She begged, bucking backward against me.

With a loud grunt, I filled my pants with a full two weeks worth of spend. We panted heavily together for a minute as we both came back to our senses.

Clarity washed over me and I backed away, shocked by what I had done. Mom awkwardly reached for her panties and pulled them up before straightening her dress and beginning to fasten her upper buttons. She continued to look forward.

"Leave." Her voice betrayed the emotions she was suppressing.

I didn't linger and quickly gathered up my books, shoving them into my backpack. I walked out the front door, boxers soaked, and didn't come back home until after dark. Luckily, my parents were already in bed. I went straight to my room and didn't emerge again until the morning.

Surprisingly, things were not awkward over the next few days. Mom and I acted entirely normal around each other. She was actually quite a bit nicer to me. Maybe a proper frigging can really help a woman relax.

---

I wish I could say that the kitchen event resolved the sexual tension between us. But the truth is that it only ignited a hotter fire in me. The sight of Mom's holes filled my dreams every night along with her words. Don't even try...

I had to admit that not only did I want to touch her again, I wanted to do even more. I wanted to fuck her. I would fuck her for all the things she'd ever done to me. And then I'd leave this house forever.

Two strange things happened about a week later.

The first was right after we finished family dinner. I had begun to stand up, reaching forward to gather up our dishes.

"No, Brent. Sit down. I'll take care of these," Mom said. She carried the dishes to the sink and started to wash them. Dad and I had looked at each other in bewilderment. He just shrugged and opened up the newspaper. I, on the other hand, continued to wonder about her puzzling behavior.

The second happened a day later. Again, I was sitting on the couch while Mom took a shower in her bathroom. This time I was reading a book for school rather than playing my Gameboy, which I hadn't had an urge to touch in weeks.

Like before, Mom came out of her bedroom and walked toward the laundry room, right past me. She was wrapped in a towel but made no attempt to cover her breasts. They simply hung free while the towel covered her lower body. She looked my way and smiled as she passed. I openly stared. There was no longer a reason for me to fight myself. I let my eyes go where they wanted.

On her return trip I almost stood up to follow her into her room -- again realizing how vulnerable she would be while covered only in that little towel.

She saw my intention and the corner of her mouth curled upward. She gestured toward the kitchen with her head. At the same moment I heard the fridge door open and close. Dad was home. Mom shrugged, as if to say, "better luck next time," and disappeared into her room.

I couldn't keep reading and instead imagined her damp, naked body behind that closed door.

Another few days passed before Mom started to repeat her teasing behavior. But the weird part was that she would only do it while Dad was home. I guess she realized the danger she was in and wouldn't risk enticing me unless she had Dad around for security.

But that safety net couldn't last forever. And the next week, I got my chance to be alone with her.

---

"I'm off to poker," Dad proudly announced as he stood from the dinner table.

Surprised, Mom asked, "But dear, I thought you weren't going tonight?"

"Plans changed. Turns out Rob's lady is heading out of town, after all. He's got the house to himself and that means that we've got a place to host our game," Dad replied over his shoulder as he carried his dishes to the sink. "Don't worry, hun, I promise I'll bring home some money this time." He chuckled to himself.

Mom looked worried, I guess she hadn't expected to be alone with me tonight. She quickly stood up, too and made her way from the table. "I've got some work to do. Brent, clear off these dishes."

I did as she told me, wasting no time as I rapidly made my own plans for the evening.

---

I waited a few minutes after I heard Dad's car pull out of the driveway before going in search of Mom. I found her in the computer room. She had paper work spread out all over the desk and was frantically typing account balances into a spreadsheet.

I approached her from behind and put my hands on her shoulders, beginning to gently massage. "Dad's gone," I stated.

She stopped typing.

I started to play with her hair while rubbing her shoulders and upper arms. She stiffened. "Stop," she said.

I reached around her, undoing the top button of her dress. A bit of cleavage popped into view. I let my finger tips slide across her tits before bringing them upward to stroke her throat.

She stood up, batting my exploring hands away. "Don't follow me." She walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, flipping open a magazine and trying to act interested in it.

I sat next to her.

"Leave me be. I'm not dealing with you today."

I brought my leg onto the couch between us and kept tenderly rubbing her upper arm with the backs of my fingers, openly admiring her.

"Stop or I'll tell your father."

"No, you won't."

She stood from the couch, walking to the kitchen. I followed her, removing my shirt and dropping it to the tile floor.

She leaned on the counter, facing out the window and away from me. She turned on the taps and started to wash a couple of dishes that I had skipped. I just leaned on the door frame watching her. Finally, I approached her from behind, reaching around her and resting my hands on her stomach. She tensed.

"Not today," she whispered.

Ignoring her, I brought my hands up to her chest, groping each breast and squeezing them possessively.

"Don't you dare. Get your filthy hands off of me." She tried brandishing anger.

I continued massaging her tits for a minute, then gently turned her around and kissed her hard. She relaxed a bit and momentarily stopped trying to escape, letting me work her mouth. I pressed my tongue against her lips and she opened them. Her own tongue met mine and for an instant she kissed me back. I grabbed her ass and pulled her against me.

"Mmmph." She twisted her face away from mine.

I tenderly kissed her cheek and throat a few times.

"We can't do this."

I brought my right hand up her back, resting it between her shoulder blades.

"Don't you dare unzip this dress." Her eyes were alight with desperation.

Zzziiipppp.

I brought the zipper all the way to the bottom of her low back. My fingers didn't detect any bra strap as they slowly slid their way back up her spine.

She pushed past me and stormed away. "Get away from me. I'm going to my bedroom. Don't follow me or I'll call the police."

I gave her a little distance but pursued after about ten seconds. I watched as she climbed the stairs and walked to the end of the hall.

She paused outside the door of her room to slide the dress off of her shoulders and take out her arms. Her bare upper back confirmed that she wasn't wearing a bra. Without looking back, she disappeared into her room, pushing the door closed but leaving it ajar.

I followed her in to find her sitting on the bed facing me. She was leaning backward, her arms supporting her and her chest arched outward. Her breasts were only partly covered by the loose fabric of her dress. When I entered she started to crawl backwards to the headboard like a spider. Her backward movement caused her legs to open wide and the fabric over her tits to slide off. They now hung free.

"Get the hell out of here. You aren't welcome." Her eyes were absolutely wild and her breathing was hard and ragged.

I undid my jeans and pushed them to the floor while approaching the bed, now wearing only my boxer briefs. When my legs touched the mattress I climbed on and simply continued to walk toward her on my knees. My thick pole pointing directly at her.

She pulled her dress up to her waist and splayed her legs wide, letting me see the wet spot on her panties. They were just as big as the ones I'd seen in the kitchen. Not quite granny panties, but close -- mommy panties. I loved them.

"You can't have this. You can never have it."

Don't even try...

I arrived between her legs and brought my hands to the backs of her ankles. I slid my hands from her feet to her knees, pushing them farther apart.

"Don't touch me."

I looked directly at her wet crotch and could already smell her intoxicating aroma.

"Don't even think about taking my panties off."

I slid my hands up her thighs and hooked my fingers under her waistband, beginning to slide them up her thighs, taking my time -- letting the thin fabric slowly scrape across her perfect, milky skin. When I had gotten them to her knees she pulled her left leg out of the leg hole, hooking the fabric in her toes and sliding it the rest of the way off of her right leg. When they were off she pressed them firmly into my face with her foot. I brought my hand up and took them into a ball against my nose. Mom's eyes widened as she watched her son brazenly inhale deeply through her dirty, wet undergarment before carelessly tossing them to the side. I felt drunk -- mom-drunk.

I put my hands behind her knees and pressed them back to her chest, lifting even her butt into the air and splaying open both of her puckering holes. Her big beautiful bush had been shaved. All that remained was a neatly trimmed patch above her swollen clit. It looked like she had even waxed her anus and ass crack. Obviously she had planned to give me this sight. I licked my lips, looking knowingly at her, communicating that I knew what she'd done. A momentary look of shame flashed across her face as her true nakedness dawned on her. Despite all of her protests, she had wanted this more than I did. I had the psychological upper-hand.

A second later, her stern resolve returned and our game continued. She struggled in vain to twist away from me. "You will NOT put your mouth on me, you bastard."

I licked my lips and brought my face close to her crotch, smelling and enjoying my prize. As if I had all the time in the world, I kissed the back of each of her legs several times before hovering my tongue over her slit and waiting. The movement was almost imperceptible, but she tried twice to buck her hips upward and touch my waiting tongue with her snatch. This woman was seriously horny -- a real bitch in heat. I didn't allow her to make contact and, instead, brought my face lower and planted my mouth directly on her arse, swirling my tongue several times around her pucker. I rolled my tongue into a tight cylinder and pressed it into the center, forcing entry. The constriction was unbelievable. What an anus! Her head fell backward and she began to coo like a little girl as she took my tongue-fucking.

I didn't hurry myself. After all, how often does a guy get to taste his own mother's backdoor? It was truly a deliciously nasty treat -- the carnality intoxicating us both. Delectable. An absolute delight. I savored the moment as I familiarized myself with my mother's true taste and scent.

After a full two minutes of reaming her I hooked both of my arms under her hips and lifted up, dragging her upper body off the pillows and onto the flat mattress. I put my knees under her back to support her in this nearly upside-down position and brought my tongue to her low back.

I licked her entire length then -- right up her crack, across her ass and perineum, and over her delicious vagina. I only slowed my pace and added a bit of pressure as I covered her clit, to her audible approval. I doggedly lapped her three more times before plunging my tongue into her pussy, shocked by her savory goodness. How can she taste this good?! There was a sweetness in her, after all.

"Oh, God," she moaned while grabbing my hair with both hands. She pulled my face against her and gyrated wildly against me. "Stop this right now! I'm your mother for Christ's sake. You can't be doing this to me, you little devil!"

After a few minutes of licking I crossed my left arm across the bottoms of knees to hold her legs back with only one hand. With the other I pushed my underwear down to my feet before kicking them off, all without removing my face from her crotch. She didn't even notice what I'd done as she moaned and cursed me, oblivious to the degree of her now proximate danger.

In one quick movement I disengaged my face and lifted myself above her, letting her hips lower to the mattress but still holding her knees against her tits with my left forearm. I laid my full body weight down atop her, bringing our genitals into contact for the first time. The underside of my shaft rested against her soaking wet slit as her little tuft of pubic hair tickled my glans. I began sawing myself against her while my right hand snaked it's fingers between her crack and pulled her ass upward, increasing the pressure between us.

Mom's grunts and ragged breathing told me when the time was right to strike. Take her now, I thought. She's yours.

I lifted my hips and used my right hand to bend my tool straight down.

Mom became alert. "Don't," she panted while watching her son aim his big prick at her neglected, little pussy.

I ignored her and pushed my helmet inside. I had to shove surprisingly hard to get past her lips. Mom was tight! I guess that's what a lifetime of being a stressed out bitch does to a woman.

"Stop! Don't-- don't fuck me." Her begging voice dripped with desperation.

I stayed motionless. I think this was one of the only times she'd ever used that word with me. I guess my dick actually being poised to impale her made our game feel a little too real. I remained one inch inside of her and pressed no further, just watching her face. Her eyes were livid and her breathing was picking up pace rapidly. Her hips began to roll.

I let go of her knees and she instantly wrapped them around my back, putting one heel on each of my ass cheeks. She put her hands on my low back and dug her nails into my skin.

"We can't do this. Take it out and leave." She begged, but despite her words, her legs tightened, trying to pull me in.

I resisted her pull, even retreating back out a quarter of an inch. She tightened again.

"Tell me what you want." I finally spoke.

She remained silent, only breathing and pulling. I retreated back a bit more. She pulled again.

This battle of wills continued for a minute and we ended up falling into a rhythm of back-and-forth movements, fucking with just my head inside of her. Mini-fucks. This couldn't last much longer. One of us had to break.

I slid my hand up the back of her neck, my fingers scooping up almost every curly strand of hair on her head. I gripped her hair in a fisted ponytail then pulled her head backward and brought my face to her ear, hissing into it, "tell me."

"Ahhhhh," she moaned in frustration as she mentally fought with her own body. It continued to betray her and her strong legs succeeded in pulling another inch of me inside. The heat of her depths was unreal. She's a furnace!

"Do you want it?" My voice was hoarse.

"Mmmm, you're a bastard." She said it like she meant it.

I released her hair and cupped the flesh of her right breast, pinching the nipple.

"Stop doing this to me." Her desperate begging sounded more and more pathetic and she squeezed me with all of her female might.

"Do you want it?"

Silence. Softening. Surrender. She was giving up.

"Do you want it, Mom?"

A pause. Then, "...yesss."

Her barely audible admission dripped with reluctance. Despite how sweet it was to my ears, I wanted more. I gave her a couple mini-fucks with about an inch of depth.

"Tell me."

Her dam broke. Years of sexual frustration came bursting out. "Christ, Brent! Yes, I want it. I want you to FUCK ME!"

I shoved in.

"Ohhhhh, gaawwwwwwdd," she wailed as I took her. In one smooth thrust I utterly impaled my married mother, making her into a whore.

Her eyes rolled back into her head and her eyelids fluttered shut as I pushed hard to get my long shaft all the way into her. I bottomed out, and was still. I stayed like that, plugged in to my place of birth, amazed by the sensation of returning home.

"Do it!" She shamelessly begged. "Fuck me!"

I pulled back to the edge, and entered again, hard. This wasn't about sex for me, it was about power. It was about punishment for the years that she had mistreated me. It was about turning the tables of control.

A woman abandoned, she stopped resisting and gave herself completely to our rut, wildly bucking back against me with each of my thrusts as I hate-fucked her with everything I had.
Those few minutes of fornication did more to heal me than years of therapy ever could have. To truly own my mother sexually, to know that I was the man who had tarnished her honor -- who had marked her as an adulteress -- was an indescribable catharsis.

The rut continued and I, too, eventually lost myself, letting nature take over. I began grunting as my thrusts became more frantic. I buried my face in her curly, golden hair, splayed across the pillows, as I continued my short, quick fucks.

In her heat, her cervix had retreated deep into her. But my head still pressed against it, pumping the first few ropes of my cum right through to fill the very uterus in which I had begun my life.

Mom's womanhood now felt like a suction cup, trying to drink me even deeper as it quivered and spasmed. Her starving pussy, finally being fed, sensed the strength of a real man's spunk and worked to milk out everything I could offer.

Both ecstasy and terror fought for control of Mom's face as she beheld herself being fertilized by son-seed. Then ecstasy won. Her head fell backward as a wide, closed-eyed smile spread across her face. Her shaking body indicated that her own orgasm had been triggered by my deep ejaculation.

Her arms and legs squeezed me in a tight hug. I couldn't have pulled out if I'd tried. Mom wanted to keep every drop of my cum right where it belonged. Nothing was to be wasted in this house.

Our foreheads met as our synchronous climax finally waned and we remained intimately face to face as we both breathed heavily and began to recover. I pulled away far enough to look into Mom's feirce eyes as I finally softened and slipped out of her. Some splooge followed and soaked into my father's side of the bed. Somehow, I knew that the sheets weren't going to be changed.

---

We lay together, cuddling silently for a comfortable hour. Neither of us spoke as we each processed our union. My flaccid dick now lay across my thigh shining brilliantly with our incestuous goop.

Her eyes twinkled at me. She was still a bitch in my view. The past couldn't be changed. But God had now granted our relationship a new, yet unexplored dimension, and maybe it would give us a way to connect despite the damage that would always exist in our relationship. I searched my feelings and no longer found any hatred for her.

She finally peeled the disheveled dress that she was still wearing over her head then rolled onto her stomach. Her peachy globes jiggled at me below her long, smooth back.

"Don't you ever do that again, young man. Don't you ever fuck me again."

She raised her butt into the air, tilting her hips slightly toward me. Despite my recent, powerful orgasm, my cock rose at her invitation.

I got behind her, pushing her knees apart.

"Don't you dare."

I slapped her ass, then lifted her hips upward, putting her onto all fours and shaking my head in astonishment as I, once again, took in this beautiful, forbidden view.

"Is this how you treat your mother? Where is your respect?"

"Shut up," I said.

She obeyed, dropping her head to the mattress as I pushed my snake back inside its home.

Doing Mom from behind was a lot of fun. This time, I simply enjoyed it for what it was -- sex. There were no weird power games now and no tension to be released. We just fucked, as man and woman, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

My perfect view of her butt and lips as they momentarily gripped my rod during my backswing was a sight that got me off quickly. I knew in that moment that no matter how long our new relationship lasted, I'd never tire of seeing Mom's body swallowing me from this angle.

After creaming her for the second time, I left my mother in a pile on her bed. Her puffy, used pussy leaked our sinful slop down her leg. She lay splayed out, appearing content and making no attempt to cover herself.

"Your father will be out again next week."

I didn't respond and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me.

---

I have to admit, I had no idea how Mom would act the next day or how life in our household would change after what I'd done to her. That's why I was so attentive when I entered the kitchen the following morning to see my parents having breakfast together like usual at the brown, wooden dining table -- nothing obviously amiss.

I tried to catch Mom's eyes to glean some kind of clue, anything that would tell me whether or not I was a dead man, but she barely looked at me after finally looking up from the papers she had spread out on the table.

"Make yourself some toast, Brent. Your father can drive you to school today." She spoke to me utterly normally. Her voice carried no recrimination, nor disdain. The only strange thing about it was the completely neutral tone she used with me, as if she was totally apathetic to my existence. The scorn that I'd grown so accustomed to had disappeared completely.

"Alright, Mom," I responded, grabbing a bit of food and sitting down at the table with my folks.

My father flipped the page of his paper and took a sip of coffee.

Does he know?

He'd returned home shortly after I'd left Mom last night and I'd heard their voices as they spoke for a few minutes before sleeping. Was it possible that Mom had told him? Despite all that had already happened, and all the secrets Mom and I already kept, doubt crept into my mind.

"Ready for school, son? We'll need to get going in a few minutes." He grinned at me in a way that I instantly recognized as naive.

Mom hadn't told him a thing. And she never would.

I glanced at Mom and caught her eye for the briefest of seconds before losing it again. Her expression betrayed nothing. She kept it all inside, locked away deep. I realized then that her and I had an implicit understanding that whatever was happening between us was our business and nobody else's.

"Yeah, Dad. Ready when you are."

---

As the week wore on my excitement grew. Dad was scheduled to play poker again at a friend's house the following Tuesday -- still an eternity away. How the hell was I supposed to wait until then to get my hands back on my mother?

When Sunday came I got out of bed on time, dressed, and joined my folks for breakfast. I had no reason to make a fuss over having to go to church. I knew that my willing attendance would help keep things smooth around the house and it would also give me a chance to check out whatever classy outfit Mom was wearing.

Incidentally, she dressed herself in a fitted, cream blouse with a chestnut pencil skirt, subtly flared at the hem just below her knees. She also wore a blue handkerchief tied loosely around her neck. It would be tough to find a woman who could rival Mom's taste for fashion in our congregation.

Mom and I stood next to each other during the singing of the opening praise songs until the pastor took the stage to begin his sermon. Our legs bumped together for a moment while we sat down but then parted again while she adjusted herself. It was our first physical contact since I'd creamed her and it felt electric. Just that little brush against her body sent a rush of warm blood down to my tool. God, did I ever lust after this woman. My mom was driving me wild!

After a few minutes, she leaned forward to rummage for something in her purse and when she returned she scooted a bit closer to me, bringing our legs into contact once again. I played it cool, trying not to react, but it was tough after quickly getting a full woody and I ended up pressing back against her. In my church slacks, my aroused state would have been obvious to anybody who looked at my lap, but thankfully nobody did -- except for Mom. I saw her tilt her head forward a few times, and her eyes dart down toward my crotch. She'd raise her right leg up onto her toes a couple times afterwards, causing her thigh to rub up and down against mine. The contact was subtle enough that it wouldn't draw anybody's attention, not even Dad's as he sat on the opposite side of her. But those little, teasing movements carried a message. The pure sexual allure that Mom could project with even the smallest action was overpowering and by the end of the sermon I could think of nothing other than peeling that skirt off of her tight, little body.

That afternoon, I mentally willed Dad to leave the house so I could take another shot at Mom. But, alas, both of my parents spent the afternoon lounging and reading in the living room. Mom could obviously sense my frustration and smirked at me once or twice. Her self-satisfaction clearly evident. Her intense, dancing eyes, though intimidating, left me wanting to ravish her. Those looks were the first time since our night together that she actually acknowledged that our game was still on.

I retreated to my room and, I'm proud to say, managed to resist the urge to rub one out. Instead, I vowed to myself that I'd be buried in Mom the next time I ejaculated. If she was going to tease me, she'd get exactly what she was asking for. Yup, I was a man who delivered.

---

Tuesday finally arrived. Truth be told, I hadn't actually put a lot of thought into my plan of action. I just figured that once we were alone things would happen naturally. Now that the moment was here, it began to dawn on me that getting back into Mom's pants might not be so simple. Would she make it easy? Or play hard to get?

During dinner Mom and I caught each other's eyes once or twice as Dad went on about how excited he was to go out gambling again. No doubt, her and I were both wondering what would happen once we had the house to ourselves.

Dad finished eating quickly and stood to kiss Mom's cheek. "See you tonight, Claire. I'm off," he announced and made for the door.

Her and I sat, quietly finishing our meal as we listened to his car drive away. There was a heaviness in the air that we both felt. But we also both felt and enjoyed an intimacy that had been absent for the past week. Neither of us rushed as we ate the last few bites of food and finished our drinks nor were any words spoken.

When Mom finally stood and spoke her voice was authoritative. "Do the dishes, Brent. I have some work to do." She talked to me as if she simply expected me to obey. I sensed a hint of coldness from her, as if she was putting some distance between us -- a defense. Interesting. Mom was protecting herself.

"Okay, Mom." I kept my response short as I watched her walk away to the computer room. She was wearing her tight, blue jeans. I don't think any outfit could make her butt look more delicious and I sat transfixed by the movements of her round cheeks as they each rose and fell in turn with her steps.

I spent 15 minutes clearing the table and tidying up the kitchen, as she'd asked. While working, I considered my options. Was she signaling that nothing was going to happen? Or was she just nervous?

After finishing with the kitchen I went to the bathroom to clean myself up -- brushing my teeth and using deodorant -- before throwing on a clean t-shirt.

Mom stayed in the computer room the whole time. It was becoming clear that she wasn't exactly going to throw herself at me by coming to my bedroom or waiting for me in hers. She seemed to want me to come to her -- to pursue her -- like I had before. Well, I was fine with that. I liked being on the offensive and my cock began to stiffen as I prepared myself to go hunting.

As I entered the small, office room I immediately smelled her distinct perfume, which always made her presence viscerally felt. Though facing away from me in the swiveling chair, she heard me come in and stopped typing for a few seconds, then began again. I approached her from behind the chair, putting my hands on her shoulders and gently scooping up her curly hair before laying it along the left side of her throat, exposing all the skin on the other side.

Mom ignored me and kept typing numbers into a spreadsheet as if she was working on a big, important account. Occasionally she would glance down at some papers that she had spread out across the desk.

I continued to slowly stroke her shoulders and began to trail my fingertips up the right side of her neck, across the bare skin. The top couple of buttons of her blouse were open and I could see down into her cleavage. Soon my fingers began to slide forward, off of her throat and onto her exposed chest, making their way closer and closer to her breasts.

Mom's typing finally stopped when my fingertips began to climb her inner swells and I saw a familiar field of goosebumps appear on her chest.

"Brent."

In response, I bent forward to kiss her exposed nape before standing again, now beginning to unbutton the rest of her blouse one clasp at a time. The rest of her bust came into view, as did her sexy, tight tummy.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I ignored her, leaning forward over her shoulders to finish undoing her lowest buttons and spreading her shirt wide open. Her torso was now bare, save for the lacy, black bra that supported her tits. As I stood, I possessively trailed my fingers back up her stomach, stopping to dig into her belly button and feeling her toned abdomen muscles before reaching the bottom of her ribcage and separating my hands out to the sides. I slid a hand up and over each of her beautiful boobs and squeezed lightly.

"Brent!"

Mom was breathing heavier at this point, she might be putting on a performance of reluctance, but her body was telling a different story as she sat straight up and jutted her chest out into my ravenous hands.

I knew that this defensive shell Mom was presenting, along with her feigned reluctance, was just an act. It had been clear the week before that she'd wanted this to happen again tonight, and I wasn't forgetting about the mild teasing I'd endured throughout my week of waiting. I understood that, though she acted tough, she had a tender side deep down that needed protecting. She was still not quite comfortable being an active participant in our shenanigans and that whenever things got too real she needed to resist my advances, maybe just for herself, to know that she had.

It felt strange to realize that our roles had changed and that I now held the power in our relationship. But after the years of what I'd endured, I was happy to take the reigns.

"You were being naughty in church, weren't you, Mom?" I continued to grope her with gentle squeezes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." I squeezed again, rubbing my thumbs over her hardening nubs. "Tell me what you were doing."

Mom's breathing had really deepened now, but she spoke between breaths. "I was-- I was rubbing my leg on yours."

"Yes, you were. Are you really the type of woman who would tease her own son like that in a church?"

Mom's eyes closed and her head tilted back to rest against my stomach. Her mouth hung open as she enjoyed my ministrations, though she didn't answer me. I released her right tit and slid my hand up her sensitive, exposed throat and onto her face, gently circling my middle finger around her plump, pink lips before pushing it inside. She closed her mouth around my digit and started to suck it.

"You are, aren't you?" I spoke again.

"Mmmhhmmm," she hummed around my invader while nodding her head.

"You're a bad mother. The kind that wants to do nasty things with her son." I pulled my finger out of her mouth, leaving a wet trail across her cheek as I slid it away.

"Yes, I am. I'm-- I'm a very bad mother."

My hands left her then and grabbed the wheeled, office chair instead. I took a few steps backward, pulling the chair and Mom into the middle of the small room. "Stand up," I commanded.

She did as she was told and, unrushed, I wheeled the chair to the side, getting it out of our way.

Mom stood before me, still looking forward like a mannequin as I continued to undress her. First I tugged the sleeves of her blouse down her arms and when I had it off of her I tossed it onto the chair. After throwing aside my own shirt and opening up my pants, I slid to my knees, trailing kisses down her spine and only stopping to quickly unclasp her bra. I hugged her hips while reaching around to undo her button and fly. I had to tug hard to get the tight denim to slide down over her hips, but Mom helped with a few shakes of her butt. I nearly came when her creamy, white ass came into view, mere inches in front of my face and covered only by a pair of black panties which covered the top half of each meaty cheek. I hugged her hips again, burying my face in her ass while she stepped out of her jeans and kicked them to the side.

Intoxicated and desperate to taste her, I shoved my tongue forward, hungrily pressing the black fabric into her crack and licking all the way down to the panty-clad muff between her legs. At the same time, my hands slid up her sides, finding that Mom had finished removing her bra, and cupped her boobs possessively.

When she felt my fingers toying with her raised nubs, Mom pushed herself back against my face and fell forward, catching the edge of the desk with her hands to keep herself upright.

Frantic, I dug deeper, mashing my face harder into Mom's privates, now fervently tonguing the area that covered her snatch. I was beginning to taste her juices as she became wetter, and flashbacks to last week flooded my mind.

Unable to wait any longer, I released her breasts and grabbed her waistband, yanking her panties down to her knees. After finally freeing her muff I dove back in, this time sliding my tongue directly along her delicious slit. Her sweet nectar hit my taste buds and, again, I nearly came, needing to will myself to relax as I remembered my vow.

Mom must have been as pent up as me because she went wild when I started to lick her clit. And when I replaced my tongue with my thumb, strumming her and sliding my two middle fingers into her vagina, she came hard and loud. I clamped my mouth down over her anus while she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm, treating myself once again to a taste of her most intimate place.

I stood then, watching Mom support herself on shaky legs, and slid both my pants and underwear to my feet. My rod sprang free as I spun Mom around and lifted her easily with a hand beneath each hamstring. I set her naked body down on the edge of the desk, right on top of her important client files.

My cock came forward at the perfect height to mash against her slippery muff. The head naturally found her tight opening and popped inside after a small buildup of pressure. I grabbed her on each side of her ribcage now, my elbows resting against each hip. From this position, I suddenly noticed how thin Mom's waist really was. I could even see her defined ab muscles as she extended her legs to wrap them around me. God, she was in great shape!

"Don't even think about fucking me, you little menace." Mom breathed, her eyes blazing.

"Quiet, Mom. I don't want any more of those games."

There were no more protests from my mother as I slid myself into her. In one deep thrust, I pushed all the way to the end of her tunnel, loving the feeling of her tight, pink hole stretching around my girth.

I had been there before, but entering Mom that night felt new all over again. As if I had forgotten what her velvet walls actually felt like. The next minute was a blur. All I know is that I fucked her for all I was worth. I can only imagine the grunts and wails that came out of my mouth while I took her.

After perhaps 30 seconds, I came so hard that it felt as if my cock had detonated like a bomb inside of her. "Mommm!" I couldn't help but gasp at my peak. It had only been a week of buildup but I must have left more cum in her than I'd ever shot before.

I kept thrusting my spent, sensitive rod up and down Mom's tunnel until my knees became too weak and I collapsed onto her. She hugged me tight as I caught my breath.
When I dislodged myself and staggered backward, a big pool of spunk immediately slipped from Mom's puffy hole and spread out on the desk. She pulled her feet up to her hips, watching me as I stared back at her. She looked youthful, almost like a teenager as she hugged her knees, tilting her head to the side and batting her eyes.

Finally expressing the lust I'd felt for this woman was doing nothing to satiate me. In fact, the more I tasted what she had, the more I wanted. In my eyes, Mom had become pure sex -- the embodiment of carnality. Something had changed. Stopping was no longer an option for me. And the way Mom was looking at me told me that she felt it, too.

I stood and slid my pants back up, fastening them before searching for my t-shirt. Mom stayed where she was, nude and gracefully perched on the wooden computer desk.

Before leaving I went to her, taking her pretty face in my hands and kissing her. I don't know why I suddenly wanted to give this cold woman a loving gesture, but it felt appropriate. I sensed that she needed it.

"Next week," I said.

"Next week," she whispered.

---

Like before, neither Mom nor I gave any obvious indication of our new relationship while Dad was around. The days began to pass much like they had the previous week with the three of us acting very normal at family dinners and the odd breakfast when I came to join them.

There was one difference though. Mom and I seemed to catch each other's eyes more often over the next couple of days. Once or twice, I caught her staring at me while the three of us sat together in the living room or at the dinner table. Sometimes I'd let her see me flick my eyes up and down her body, after first making sure that Dad wasn't paying attention, and smirk at her. She'd often bite her lip then -- her gaze becoming more intense.

I thought about those looks she was giving me. I knew what they meant. Mom was just as frustrated as I was while we endured our long wait. She might even be the hornier one. She needed this -- whatever it was that we'd started. I knew that the next time we had our chance, Mom wouldn't put up her usual walls. But I also wondered if I really needed to wait until Tuesday to have her again. Could I wear her down and have her early?

---

On Thursday when I came to the kitchen for dinner, Dad was still sitting alone in the living room while Mom, wearing a knee-length house dress, finished mashing a bowl of potatoes. I knew I shouldn't have done it, given the risk, but I simply couldn't resist. The next thing I knew I was behind her and gently placing my hands on her hips.

Mom stopped mashing while my right hand slid down over her rump to the back to her hamstring and my left circled in front of her to rest on her tummy. Her head spun to look at the doorway of the living room. Just around the corner, barely out of sight, we heard Dad flip a page of his newspaper.

I brought my head forward and gently kissed Mom's shoulder as each of my hands continued on their paths. When my left reached her ribcage and bumped into the lower swell of her breast Mom's breath caught. With my right I slowly began to ball her dress up into my fist, threatening to expose her buttocks.

"Brent," Mom whispered, barely audible.

My cock solidified and poked against her butt as my fingers found the bare skin of the back of her leg. I began to tickle my way higher, allowing just my fingertips to begin to climb up over her cheek.

Mom leaned out to her left and turned her head enough to face me. Silently, she mouthed the words, "not now." Her eyes flicked rapidly back and forth between me and the living room.

I grinned, enjoying the flustered state I'd put her in, then pressed my mouth against hers, firmly and possessively kissing her rounded lips.

She remained tense for the first few seconds, then softened and opened her mouth, allowing me to snake my tongue in. A few seconds later, she was kissing me back. I retreated my tongue and hers followed it into my own mouth. As we made out I became bolder and let my fingers start to dig between her butt cheeks, pushing her panties into her crack.

Just as Mom began to writhe her hips and press her butt backward into my hands, I pulled away, breaking the kiss and taking a step backward. With her eyes still closed, her flushed face tried to follow me as her puckered lips searched for mine.

After opening her eyes and seeing me backing away, she glared at me, clearly frustrated. A hint of her old disdain flashed across her face before she spoke. "Dinner's ready," she called out. Then spun and carried the semi-mashed potatoes to the table.

---

It was just past 1 AM on Friday night and I was laying in bed, almost asleep, when I heard a creak in the hallway. I opened my eyes to see my door slowly swing open, revealing my mother in the hallway clad only in a skin-tight, white undershirt and matching white panties. I could see her braless, red nipples through the thin material. Her golden curls were up in a tight bun above her head, but a few loose strands hung down beside her sharp cheekbones, elegantly framing her pretty face.

Daintily tiptoeing on bare feet, she entered silently and closed the door behind her. I flicked on my dim, bedside lamp and sat up.

"Yes, Mother?"

Mom took a breath to compose herself. "I-- don't want to wait until Tuesday," she quietly confessed, looking down at her hands as she played with them in front of her toned tummy. She appeared vulnerable as she awaited my response.

So I'd been right. She'd needed this badly. My manhood rose.

I made her wait for a moment before speaking. "Then give me your underwear."

She obeyed, taking her time to slide them down her fit legs, exposing her little tuft of blonde pubic hair, and stepping over the thin waistband. She bent forward to grab them and then delivered them to my outstretched hand. I toyed with them for a moment, letting my bottomless mother wait even longer. These were a small and lacy pair, not like the big, plain ones she'd worn before.

"I want you to wear panties like this more often," I told her. I shoved them under my pillow.

"Okay," she responded.

I threw the covers off of myself and slid my boxers down to my ankles, letting my thick cock spring free. Mom eyed it.

I reached out and took her hand before gently guiding her to my lap. She straddled me and inhaled sharply when our bare genitals made contact. I let her take the lead and when she was ready she deftly scooped me up and let me slide inside of her -- up into her warmth -- before resting her small hands on my strong chest and beginning to ride me.

She brought her face close to my ear as we began to find a rhythm. "Brent, you can't finish inside me this time."

"Why?" I gasped, already well on my way.

"I'm ovulating right now. It's dangerous." She was beginning to pant as she rode me. "You-- you just have to pull out, okay?"

"Okay, Mom, I will," I breathed, barely registering what she'd even said as I lost myself in her warm passage.

While we fucked, my hands slid up and down her back before slipping over her hips to grip her beautiful globes. Before long I was digging my fingers into her crack, spreading her and exploring her back door with my probing digits.

Interestingly, every time my fingertip started rubbing Mom's anus, she would go wild. Her moans would grow louder and she would begin gyrating her hips with greater fervency and need while she rode me.

Wanting to know something, I brought the finger that I'd been probing her with to my mouth and licked it clean, then spit a large dollop of saliva onto it before reaching back around her body. Now lubed and ready, my middle finger easily slid around in a tight circle on her rubbery ring as I slowly added pressure.

Mom loved it. Our eyes met and she bit her lip and nodded at me when I began to push my finger inside her ass. So my suspicions were right -- Mom liked anal.

After passing surprisingly little resistance, I popped through and into her warm butt. Mom had to burry her face into my pillow to keep quiet as I took the lead and began fucking up into her hot slit while also frigging her backdoor all the way to my second knuckle.

Even with her moans silenced by the pillow, I knew Mom was cumming hard when I felt her sphincter spasming around my digit. When I sensed her peak, I yanked my finger out of her. The sudden anal stimulation sent her to a new height and a single, loud moan of delight escaped her lips. I prayed to God that Dad was in a deep sleep.

Hearing Mom cry out sent me past the point of no return. Somehow, I remembered my agreement and tried to slip out of her. However, Mom was still lost in the throws of her own climax and clamped down on me, hard. She wasn't letting me go anywhere.

"Mom, I'm-- gonna--!" I gasped, attempting to communicate the immediate danger with the few words I was currently capable of uttering. But she ignored me, too far gone to care what I was saying.

Feeling my dick pulsate and begin to fire my rich semen inside her fertile body renewed Mom's waning orgasm and she clamped down even harder on me. With caution thrown to the wind, Mom came and came, experiencing the most intense climax I'd ever given her.

Long minutes later, we lay together, her head against my chest and my heart beating in her ear. My hand trailed absently up and down her spine. Though I had begun to soften, I was still inside of her and I occasionally pushed inward, bringing us both down gently with a series of soft, waning thrusts.

"I liked what you did to me... with your finger."

"I liked it, too, Mom."

Mom climbed off of me and walked gracefully to my door. I watched her naked backside as she slipped out into the hallway, leaving me and sneaking, pantiless, back to her husband with my passion still seeping out of her.

---

I lay in bed for a long time on Saturday morning while considering what had happened. A part of me wondered if Mom's visit had only been a dream, but the lacy, white panties under my pillow proved that theory false.

I toyed with them while I thought, occasionally bringing them to my face to enjoy her heavenly scent.

It was strange to me how she'd initially worried about pregnancy risk, only to then hold me tight inside of her when I'd ejaculated. It was like her mind knew about the risk, but in the heat of the moment her body had wanted something else. Maybe even now, I was underestimating the strength of Mom's sexual desires. At any rate, if she wasn't concerned about the risk, neither was I. I loved filling my mother's tight cunt with creampies and I wasn't about to stop.

Throughout the afternoon I couldn't stop thinking about Mom's rear end. Yes, it had just been a finger, but I'd actually been inside of it -- my Mom's ass! I'd entered the ultimate object of my desires. I knew that, no matter what happened, I'd never forget that feeling of her hole squeezing my finger like a ring -- a promise ring, that with Mom, there would always be another layer to uncover.

I began to make plans for Tuesday, when Mom and I would finally have the house to ourselves again.

---

Incidentally, it turned out that I wouldn't have to wait until Tuesday, after all.

On Sunday morning when I entered the kitchen to find my parents at the breakfast table eating toast, Mom was still not dressed. Instead, she wore her robe cinched tight around her cotton pajamas. This struck me as odd because she was usually the first out of the three of us to be ready for church.

Dad, however, was dressed in a shirt and tie and appeared chipper as he sipped his coffee and read the newspaper.

He spoke to me after I entered the kitchen. "It'll just be us men worshiping this morning, son. Your mother isn't feeling well."

I looked from him to Mom. Her eyes were boring into my own and I saw them flick briefly toward the stairs before she slyly raised her eyebrows. Fortunately, this little message seemed to go undetected by Dad, but it certainly wasn't lost on me.

"Oh, really?" I said, concern evident in my voice. "Do you have a headache, Mom?"

"It's a sore throat," Mom said. "I think I'm coming down with something."

"You know?" I began, "I feel a little off, as well. I think we might have caught the same thing."

"Uh, oh," Dad interjected. "Maybe you should stay back as well. I don't want our family to be responsible for spreading something around the congregation."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I'll stay here and look after Mom."

"Good man," my father nodded.

Mom's face remained neutral, betraying nothing as she continued nibbling on her toast.

"Well, if it's just me, I think I'll head out now. They might need some extra help setting up for the service. I'll see you two this afternoon."

He wiped a few crumbs from his face and made for the front door. "Oh, and, Claire, don't be surprised if I'm a bit late coming back, I've been meaning to meet with the deacons to make a correction on our offering receipt."

"Alright, dear," Mom said. "No rush."

And with that, Dad was out the door, and I was, once again, alone with Mom.

She chuckled softly and shook her head, rising and coming to me. I took her in my arms and slid my hands down her sides, gripping her below the hips and easily lifting her to set her butt on the counter top. I stepped between her legs, pushing apart the fuzzy robe to reveal the same white tank top she'd worn the other night. Her sexy nipples were still visible through the cotton. I leaned forward and put my mouth on one of them, sucking it through her shirt. She grabbed my head and lifted it to hers and our lips met. We hungrily kissed. It was clear that Friday night hadn't been enough for either of us.

Mom broke away. "Let me go, Brent. And give me a few minutes. I'll come to your room."

"Alright, Mom," I said, backing away and letting her slip back down to her feet. She disappeared upstairs and I followed a minute later, stripping down to my boxers and laying on my bed to await her.

A few minutes became 15, and then 25 as I waited patiently for her to join me. What was she doing? At this rate, Dad would be back before her and I had any fun!

Finally Mom appeared at my door still wrapped in the robe, although now I could no longer see the cotton pajamas beneath it. She approached my bed and crawled on it.

She sat between my legs, beginning to run her fingers along my thighs and the growing bulge still encased in my boxers. "Am I a bad mother?" Hey eyes were playful. I'd never seen them dance quite like this before.

"Would a good mother stay home from church to fuck her son?"

Mom laughed.

I recalled the day, not long ago, when she'd fought with me about attending church, telling me I needed to repent for my sins. How could she have changed so much since then? Perhaps the persona she'd been projecting had been fake, and the woman now in my bed was my real mother. Or, was it possible that my advances had awoken a deeper side of Mom, which had risen to the surface and taken control?

I stopped wondering about these things as she pulled my underwear down, flicking my dick out from underneath and grasping it in her small hands.

Then Mom shocked me by licking the underside of my shaft. She knew exactly when to add pressure as her tongue passed along the bottom of my head. Mom stretched her mouth over me then, opening wide and letting her luscious lips descend down around my sensitive penis. Even after everything we'd done, I never thought Mom would suck me.

It was surreal to watch myself disappear into her sexy mouth. I loved seeing those womanly lips, which used to speak so harshly to me, now eagerly pleasuring me right down to my base. With difficulty, I held back from cumming. As much as I would have loved to fire my sperm down her throat, I had other plans in store for the load I'd spent the weekend building.

After a few minutes of sucking, Mom sat up and dropped the robe, revealing her completely nude body. Her red nipples pointed proudly up toward me as she crawled forward and straddled me. Instinctively I reached up and took her tits in my hands, leaning forward to being licking them. She reached down and grasped my wet shaft, pointing it upward toward her vagina. Then she brought her weight down, letting the first half of my rod slip into her sweet, pink hole.

She kept her grip on my base, her full fist wrapped around the bottom of my rod, and only let herself swallow the first half of my dick. Then she rose up and off of me again before moving her hips forward a few inches, keeping my now-lubed pole in her hand before once again lowering back down.

Amazed, I realized what she was doing. She laughed as I looked up at her, wide-eyed, while I felt her asshole kiss my glans. Mom began to add pressure, slowly letting her weight down onto me and I soon felt her ring widening and engulfing my head.

Mom closed her eyes in concentration as she worked herself down my shaft. "Slowly," she said.

I nodded, watching in amazement as my mother continued lowered herself onto my pole, impaling her own ass.

By the time I was half way in, I realized that this was happening way too easily. Why was her anus so slippery and relaxed? Had-- had she prepared her hole for this? Good God! So that's why she took so long to come to me. She was probably in her bathroom lubing up and stretching out her own asshole to surprise me! This may have been the first time in my life that my mother had given me a gift. And I was going to savor it.

"Ohhhhh," she grunted. Her voice carried a more guttural tone than usual. She placed both hands on my chest and paused to adjust to my size. "It feels so big back there."

The expression on Mom's face continued to change the deeper I sunk into her. Unbelievably, she was able to get all the way down to my base, swallowing my entire rod into her warm butt. Her mouth hung open and her eyes fluttered closed as she adjusted to me.

"Go ahead," she said. "Fuck me, but slowly."

I reached forward to grip a firm cheek in each hand and began to move up and down. In and out I went feeling Mom's tight sphincter sliding from my sensitive head all the way to my base as she crouched above me.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned, her sounds betraying a hint of pain. "Ah, ah, ahhhhhh."

Suddenly she stopped, lifting up off of me and flipping into her knees.

She spread her legs wide and pushed her rump up into the air. "Like this, Brent. Fuck it like this. I want to feel you from behind."

I lined myself up with her lubed and stretched asshole and pushed back in easily to Mom's audible delight. When I bottomed out I saw her close her eyes and grip my bedsheets, preparing herself to take a proper pounding.

Nothing we'd done had ever felt so carnal and dirty. Loving it, I embraced the darkness and started to fuck Mom's ass properly. With time, I was going almost as hard as I usually did in her pussy.

"Harder, Brent. Fuck it harder!" Mom was clearly deriving some kind of dark pleasure from being used like this. "Ahh, ahh, ahh, ohhhh, myy gawwddd!" She sounded different than usual as she reached a higher, almost girly pitch.

The more wild she became the more everything else in my world disappeared. The only thing that existed was my mother's ass -- the focus of so many years of my yearning. "Mom!" I cried out.

She was getting close to her limit and began to beg. "Do it. Give me your cum. Fill my ass with your cum!"

I finally shot my load, grunting heavily and collapsing onto her as I pumped her anal cavity full.

Mom gasped girlishly with delight when I pulled out, reaching between her legs to toy with herself. Her asshole remained gaped open for a second, revealing a large white pool of semen resting inside of it. Then her sphincter tightened and closed, oozing out a single stream of jizz which ran down over her wet pussy lips. When the stream met her fingers she began rubbing it into her muff and pushing it inside.
Mom turned onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest as she lay atop my sheets looking at me. "I need it like that sometimes. Hard and dirty. Your father doesn't understand that." Mom's moment of vulnerability was, in some ways, more intimate than the sex we'd been having. "But you do."

Something welled up within me as I listened to Mom's confession -- a renewed need to have her again. I couldn't stop staring at Mom's exposed muff as she spoke to me. Her wet, inner lips were peaking out, subtly spread like the wings of a butterfly.

I rolled her onto her back, opening her knees as I returned to full hardness. I moved forward and entered her easily, this time in the hole that God had intended.

This time I didn't fuck her for pleasure, neither hers nor mine. I raced to my finish because I simply knew that I needed to fill her with my seed. Fertilizing her was the only thing that mattered.

"Good boy," she whispered to me when I was done.

She left my room shortly after I'd finished with her, showering and returning to bed where my unsuspecting father would find her clean and napping upon his return.

---

Tuesday came quickly and Dad was out again for another poker night. He had barely closed the front door before I took Mom by the hand and led her to my room. I took my time removing every piece of clothing she wore and laying her softly on my mattress. That night I explored her properly -- lovingly licking and tasting every mound, groove, and hole on her body. Covered in goosebumps, Mom was a sensitive mass of tingles and on a hairpin trigger by the time I finally entered her.

We fucked for the full four hours that Dad was out, only dislodging ourselves when we heard his car return.

Two days later, I found her working alone in the computer room. "Come to my room tonight," I said while rubbing her shoulders.

She did. And she came the next night as well.

---

For the next four weeks, my whore mother and I rutted every chance we got. Her cunt ended up full of my cream every time Dad left the house. As it did during our late-night rendezvous when she'd tiptoe to my room after he'd fallen asleep. We knew that what we were doing was dangerous, especially given the fact that she had recently been ovulating. I had taken health class at school and knew how that stuff worked. But these were some of the first romps of my life, and I sure as hell didn't want to be pulling out. Mom had stopped telling me to, as well, clearly believing it was important for my sperm to be inside of her.

I must be kind of dumb because I didn't register the fact that her period obviously hadn't arrived. You can't really trust a man to follow that kind of thing, anyways.

Mom sat me down one day, looking concerned. "I haven't had my period. It's two weeks late now," she said.

"Don't worry, Mom," I reassured her. "Everything'll be fine."

A few days later she sat me down again. "I'm pregnant," she said. "I just got back from the doctor. You fucked a baby into me, young man." For some strange reason she was smiling.

My stomach dropped the way it always did the moment I knew that I going to get busted for some crime or another. Holy fuck! I had knocked up my own mom! There was no coming back from this one.

When Mom swung her leg over me and plopped herself down in my lap the worry started to dissipate. And when she opened her blouse to reveal her braless tits it vanished completely. She pressed her chest into my face as I began to suckle her firm nips. She said, "thank you, sweetie."

She'd never called me sweetie before... What was up? She was actually happy. I guess another baby was all she really wanted, after all.

She lifted up her skirt to reveal her pantiless crotch. She had planned to reward me for the gift I'd given her. Wow! Women really were incredible and mysterious creatures. I flashed back to our first fuck, when I'd seen her trimmed pubic hair, and realized that Mom had planned a lot of things. Had all of this been orchestrated by her?

Our celebration fuck was one of the best we'd had. For the first time, we shared deep tongue kisses while going slow and tender. I think Claire was finally learning to love.

---

That night when I got out of bed to have a glass of water I heard my parents screwing as I passed their bedroom door. Mom was giving him a few moans, but not nearly as many as she routinely gave me. It must have been the first time in months or years that he'd actually had his prick in her. I guess his deceitful spouse was trying to create plausible deniability about who her new baby's true father was.

A few days later I eavesdropped on them talking in the kitchen while they thought I was in the basement. Dad was shocked when she told him she was expecting. "But I-- the doctor told me I was sterile!" he protested. "How did this happen?"

I was actually kind of disappointed when I realized that my dad truly was a moron. I'd stolen his cheating wife right out from under him and he didn't suspect a thing. What a dolt! He actually deserved to lose her.

"Those tests aren't 100% reliable," I heard my good church-going mother effortlessly lie. "Or maybe God performed a miracle for our family. Who knows?" She gave him a kiss for good-measure.

Being pregnant really chilled Mom out and she started to smile a lot more often. I think I know now what people mean when they talk about the "pregnancy glow."

I kept on sneaking around with Mom while her belly grew bigger and bigger, but during her second trimester it became a bit awkward to put her into some of our favorite positions. It also felt a little weird to pound her so hard and spray myself inside while there was a baby growing in there. But Mom insisted that I keep giving her the rough romps she had grown to accustomed to.

The little fella came and I vowed to try my best to be a good, older brother. I wanted to take a real "fatherly" role in his life, you know? Maybe I could be a role model for the youngster -- someone he could look up to.

---

About a month after the birth, Mom asked me to come to the store with her to help with the groceries. This type of thing was becoming more common and I'd grown to expect that she'd need more help with the household duties. We left the baby at home with Dad while the two of us went shopping.

Groceries had always been a relaxing for me and I slowly waltzed down the isles, pushing the cart while Mom took her time choosing what we needed to buy and keeping her eyes open for sales.

I was looking around at the other shoppers, wondering about their lives, when somebody in particular caught my eye. It had been about a year since I'd seen Jill, but I recognized her instantly as she inspected some vegetables farther down the same isle that Mom and I were in.

As we got closer to her, I glanced between her and Mom a couple times, not sure how this interaction was going to unfold. Thankfully, she hadn't seemed to notice me yet.

Just as Jill finished selecting a bunch of carrots, a man came around the corner and joined her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He looked familiar, as well. Then it struck me -- the young guy from the photo on her desk! He'd aged a bit since it had been taken but the two of them still shared the slight resemblance.

Jill had her head resting on the man's arm and the two of them were deep in conversation as the four of us passed by each other. I almost believed that she hadn't recognized me, but at the last second I saw her eyes dart over to check out Mom, then come to meet my own as she smiled knowingly at me. I smiled back, giving her a slight nod while our partners remained oblivious to our shared moment.

---

Over the next three years, Mom was blessed with two more healthy pregnancies. And just like that, our home was filled with new life. Mom was constantly smiling -- truly happy to have fulfilled her maternal instincts after having birthed a total of four children. And Dad grinned, as well, beaming with pride for having sired so many children against all the odds.

In the end, I didn't stick around much longer. My hard work in school paid off after all and I got accepted to a good out-of-state college. I had already deferred a couple of times in order to continue investing in my relationship with Mom but the time finally came for me to move out.

It was tough to go from three or four good screws a week to nothing, but I soon adjusted. Plus, any time I came home to visit, Mom and I made sure to sneak away for a few minutes while Dad was watching the little ones. The insatiable hunger that characterized our first few times together never really dried up. Even years later, we mated frantically and passionately, fueled by a deep need to make up for so much lost time.