URL: http://web.archive.org/web/http://www.literotica.com/s/a-mother-remembers
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: A Mother Remembers
Tags: A Mother Remembers, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, mother, son, tease, reluctance, seduction, anal, oral, facial

Summary: While she waits for her son.

All characters are 18 years or older.

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

So beautiful. The manicured grass sloping gently toward the trees, a mixture of seven
shades of green interspersed with bits of yellow and red. It was peaceful, by design.
My heart filled with joy, and sadness too, knowing you will soon be here, finally,
with me. Oh, my son, I have waited so long.

I remember the first time I became aware of your attraction to me. Your father, who
had been away on business, called from the airport to say he was bringing a client
home! I scrambled to prepare something better for dinner and then, still in my black
exercise leotard, raced around the house, tidying, cleaning, and dusting. My frantic
pace didn't disturb your lolling recline on the couch except to force an occasional
crane of your neck to see the TV.

Finally, I stood, exhausted, facing partly away from you toward the window. That's
when I noticed the television in the corner hadn't completely captured your attention,
the reflection in the window revealing the degree to which my pose had trumped the
football game.

Still out of breath, I panted harder than necessary for an excuse to stay still, hand
braced on my left hip, right jutted-out, and lifted my right hand to push my bushy,
shoulder-length hair up and away from my neck. The truth really penetrated my mind
then for your gaze fixed upon my right breast which my raised arm profiled quite nicely.


Unconsciously, I let my arm drop to let my breast sag a little, pushing it outward
into my top, and your eyes widened. Or at least I thought they did. Maybe my mind
was assuming more than the reflection could provide but in that precise moment I rediscovered
how it felt to be admired as a woman despite my dress and the state of my hair.

My hair! I turned, unexpectedly, by your reaction.

"They'll be here any minute," I cried, and bolted for the stairs.

You scrambled to cover yourself and, given my hasty exit, probably thought you had
been successful but as I leaped up the stairs the clear image of the erection tenting
your pants seared itself into my brain.

I'm still sexy, even if Don doesn't know it.

I had been working out for months — almost a year, really — but Don paid less and
less attention every week. I noticed the glances of other men but dismissed them when
he didn't confirm their admiration. Writing it off to wishful thinking on my part,
I refused to give up and doubled my efforts. But at night, as he snored beside me,
I convinced myself I was losing him to a younger woman. Why else would he ignore a
female body so conveniently at his disposal when it was in the best shape it been
in for twenty years?

So months later my body, in even better shape, continued to draw looks from strange
men and now it had even attracted my son. I didn't quite know what to do with that
information or the strange warmth it brought to my heart and body. I tried to dismiss
the latter feeling but couldn't deny I had held my pose far longer than necessary,
despite my surprise, and had purposely lowered my arm to make my breast more noticeable,
one of many long-forgotten feminine wiles.

I berated myself, wondering how a mother could be so desperate as to seek sexual attention
from her own son. I told myself not to overthink a brief moment and that I had no
reason to feel bad. My looks had returned and I had reacted, nothing more and nothing
less, and so had you, bless your heart. I put on a nice dress, one that emphasized
my refurbished figure, and told myself it was because I wanted additional confirmation
from Don's client.

That confirmation came in spades. Clive paid so much attention to me it angered you.
Do you remember that, I wonder? It was so long ago. It struck me that you were actually
jealous but I dismissed the notion at the time as being ridiculous. Why would you
be jealous? There had to be another explanation for your rudeness.

Don, of course, didn't even notice. I didn't know why, then, but I thought I did.


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

Don worked late even more often after that. He was usually home by nine but sometimes
would inexplicably return to the office and not come home until eleven or later. I
tried not to be suspicious but one Saturday I ran across his office mate while shopping
downtown. Herb asked if Don was with me or shopping for a Xmas gift on his own. I'm
sure my surprise escaped before I could compose myself but Herb gallantly didn't acknowledge
it.

"Of course," I replied. "He loves to surprise me," I answered.

Don had told me he had to go over some important papers with Herb for an important
meeting on Monday. Jealousy initially hit deep but then I rationalized it away — don't
we always do that? Of course, I reasoned, Don was doing just what Herb suggested,
buying a special present for me.

When Don came home I snuck out to search his car. There was no present. Of course,
he could have taken it to his office, or arranged for it to be delivered later, but
I was done with rationalizations. I was hurt and angry. Mostly angry.

Soon after that I began wearing lightweight bras that provided lift and emphasized
shape. Within a week I was going braless under a t-shirt covered by a blouse, or under
a blouse covered by an open sweater. I knew the relative freedom of my breasts would
draw your attention too but I didn't care. At least one man knew there was a treasure
to be found at home!

I can't believe I was thinking like that but in my defense I was an emotional wreck
and felt sexually defunct. I was at the end of my stick. If only I knew how much worse
it would get.

Evoking desire in other men proved too easy but, despite my accidental discovery,
your attention was more elusive. Of course I knew, though it was taboo, most young
men would at some point notice their mothers, if only because of proximity. I had
caught you looking once and assumed you had done so more often but were adept at hiding
such a forbidden interest. Therefore, I sought confirmation of my womanly prowess
in your eyes just to make myself feel good, to be wanted.

Weeks went by where my thoughts were consumed by how to snag your attention with seemingly
innocent poses designed to draw attention to my breasts. I repositioned furniture
so I could surreptitiously utilize reflections to monitor your reactions and discovered,
much to my surprise, that my lower body drew admiring glances longer and more often.


I wore shorter skirts and dresses without pantyhose and sometimes went without underwear
so the shape and motion of my buttocks would be easier to discern, but only when Don
wasn't home. I oiled my bare legs and practised crossing them, pausing briefly to
maximize the effect when they were open, and tensing my calf muscles unnecessarily
to make them look sexy whether crossed or not.

Amazingly, Don didn't notice the short skirts or the motion of my breasts. Nor did
he question why the coffee table was six inches closer to the couch. I often rested
my feet on the table in the evening but now braced them on the edge rather than laying
them flat, to tighten rather than relax the muscles in my legs. With feet closer to
the couch my knees rose higher, allowing my dress to slide down my raised thighs to
reveal more glistening, well-oiled leg than was appropriate, even in the privacy of
home — especially when my son was present.

I should say, my attentive son, for my weeks of effort had paid off and I measured
my daily success not just in the count of surreptitious looks or even in the achievement
of an erection, for that was expected. I now sought to prolong your arousal as long
as possible, keeping you downstairs doing meaningless chores.

Then I sought your help with my crossword puzzles and, of course, got you to sit beside
me. I kept you there for hours, feigning intense interest while using the bottom of
the magazine to work my dress higher. At times, it neared my crotch and I was glad
the magazine hid its raunchy state from your father's eyes, should he ever bother
to look. When I was stuck, as happened often, I lifted the magazine closer to my face
to scrutinize the clues leaving my thighs open for your leisurely inspection. Sometimes
I dragged my dress so high my panties were exposed. I went further, lifting one foot
from the table to wiggle my toes and tense my calf muscles but the main reason was
to stretch my panties tightly across my pussy.

It was shameless! I knew I was being a horrible mother but couldn't stop. In the afternoon
I rented as watched series in which an aristocratic mother repeatedly satisfied her
married son. She was evil but I was only playing a harmless game. It was fun, and
okay because nothing had actually happened.

Like any addict, I didn't realize how far gone I was, not even when I began removing
my panties after dinner before sitting down to do a crossword. I knew you were aware
something was up because I was too worked up to keep the tension out of my breathing.


The first time you smelled my excitement your whole body stiffened in surprise — everywhere,
not just there. You stuttered and blushed when I queried you for word suggestions
and tried to leave but I laid a hand on your forearm and pleaded for you to stay until
the puzzle was done. I teased you wickedly but relinquished the joy of torture when
I sensed you were about to come, actually come, in your pants.

Even then I didn't quit.

Did you know I followed you upstairs that night to listen to the rapid patter of your
masturbation? I knew you were thinking of me, though you didn't mention my name, and
it made me feel very sexy. That was the first time I slipped my fingers inside myself
while thinking about how much I had aroused you. Until then I had limited myself to
a few rubs but that was no longer enough. I pushed three fingers into my wet cunt
to mimic the size of the bulge I had witnessed in your pants. When the speed of your
hand and your moans betrayed the imminent culmination of your arousal I reached my
own release and felt closer to you than I ever had, except perhaps at birth.

I should have quit then. Any reasonable mother would have, even if she had been insane
enough to reach my state of degradation. Instead, the next night, I used the crossword
magazine to push my dress high enough to bare myself, and then raised it, tilted toward
the lamp, and Don, to hide my exposed state. Of course, nothing was hidden from you,
not my slightly open legs or my carefully trimmed fur which glistened like my legs
but from my own dew. I let you stare for several minutes and then parted my legs further
to show a little pink, but only briefly. I didn't try to stop you when you groaned
loudly and jumped up.

"What's wrong?" your father asked, but you were already running toward the stairs.
He turned to me but thankfully I had lowered the magazine and tugged my dress into
a more appropriate position. "What's wrong with Donny?"

"I don't know," I replied, seeming worried. "I'll go check."

Despite my apparent concern, I sauntered up the stairs. I knew Don wasn't watching
and I wanted to give you time to get started. I felt very sexy and wanted to enjoy
the feeling of warmth rolling outward from my center, the spread of my own condensation
dampening my inner thighs, and the power my son's escape ingested within me.

I was too late. You had been in such a hurry you hadn't fully closed the bathroom
door and it was obvious you were already coming. I should have left but stayed to
hear the whole thing after you rasped a single, magic word.

"Mom."

It was too late then to make an escape so I braced myself for the inevitable confrontation
between mother and son, the first acknowledgement that I knew you were masturbating.
I would have to brush it off but could I when it was so obvious what had triggered
it?

And would I? Could I trust myself when you opened the door, perhaps still stuffing
your semihard cock into your pants? Would I grab it and stuff into myself instead
of my fingers, as I wanted to? Could I control myself, force myself to do the right
thing? This was no longer a game, I realized with a sinking feeling, yet I stood fast
instead of running and braced myself for the most important face-to-face of our lives.
I didn't know what would happen.

But you didn't come out. There was silence, then a sigh, and that magic word again…Mom.
You were at it again. Once was not enough for your mother! I inhaled your love, seeping
through the crack in the door, and swayed on my feet, dizziness briefly overcoming
me. The floor creaked and the sound of your hand stopped.

I stood rooted to the floor, unable to breathe, or move. My ears tried to pierce the
wall and I noted with horror that my hand had lifted my dress and slid between my
legs to cup my sex. I tried to pull it away but instead let the pad of my longest
finger push into my slit. Long seconds passed, followed by a quiet grunt and the sound
of the renewed movement of your hand. I turned toward the wall and leaned forward
until my forehead pressed against it, the nearest I could be to you. I pushed my fingers
inside and started working them in concert with the sound of your hand.

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

You bought me a thick magazine of the toughest New York Times crosswords the next
day. Do you remember that? You'd think I would have recognized the danger in that
but I didn't, or at least, I didn't acknowledge it. I thought it was so cute that
you found a way to make me ponder for every word that I let you inspect my fur every
night that week. I took my time getting to it but that made the game more fun.

The sight of the pink didn't make you lurch into coming as quickly and I liked that.
We sat next to each other, one hard and one wet, for ages, until you eventually went
upstairs to masturbate and I inevitably followed. We did ourselves in unison, unbeknownst
to you, almost every night for two weeks.

I didn't do it on purpose, it just happened on one of those nights when my fur was
finally exposed. Delicious tingles danced around my pussy and it twitched. Though
my nose was supposedly buried in the crossword magazine I registered an immediate
reaction from you. Peeking sideways under the magazine, I noticed a complementary
surge in your bulge and that encouraged me to do it on purpose. I hunched my pelvis,
thrusting forward the tiniest bit, just enough to flex my mound without any apparent
outer movement. I forgot I wasn't wearing panties. If you were captivated before,
you were lost then.

I told myself you didn't know I was doing it on purpose, or that I had knowingly dragged
my dress up my legs and spread them in the first place. Incredibly, I believed you
thought I was innocent and unaware my sex was so blatantly exposed, that you were
simply the fortunate recipient of repeated, accidental clothing malfunctions. It was
a ridiculous assumption believable only to an addict in complete denial.

Things deteriorated from there.

I had been teasing you with sexy, supposedly innocent, poses in the kitchen until
you suddenly needed to leave but I grasped your forearm to keep you there.

"Give your Mom a kiss," I implored.

You tried to pull away but I insisted and dragged your face down for a kiss on your
cheek. You were trembling and I felt almost cruel when I refused to let you go.

"Give me a hug, too."

You resisted.

"Don't you love your mother?" I asked, pulling your arms around me.

I pressed against your body and felt the strength of you manhood. It shocked and excited
me and I wanted to envelop it with my soft flesh but was afraid you'd run away. When
I felt it jerk against my tummy I let you go and acted like everything was okay.

"Thanks, honey." I turned away. "I'll call you for dinner."

After that we began touching during the day, just hugs and pecks on the cheek, and
the odd quick kiss, but they became more and more frequent, especially the hugs. Strange
that the thing you seemed so afraid to do became your favorite. The hugs became longer
and you liked to surprise me from behind when I was busy. We both pretended it was
platonic and there wasn't anything pressing between us.

Perhaps that eased the transition from looking to touching during the evening crossword
session. I grasped your forearm one evening when I knew you were ready to go upstairs.
I hadn't meant to do anything more than keep you for a few moments longer but when
you took the loose, flopping left page of the puzzle magazine in your other hand,
I pulled your right down to rest on my thigh. My bare thigh, only inches away from
my wet, pulsing pussy. In that instant, through that small movement and delicate touch,
I admitted to us both I knew exactly what I was doing.

It was an electric moment. You didn't pull your hand away as I half expected. Neither
of us moved while we continued to discuss clues and suggestions. Several minutes passed
during which our bodies began to react to this new level in our game. My pussy pulsed
involuntarily, beyond my control and unable to ignore the proximity of your warm hand.
I knew, by the trembling in your leg, that you were also having difficulty controlling
yourself. We started to come, together, sitting next to each other and only feet from
your father, all from the warmth of your hand on my bare thigh!

You went upstairs and masturbated yourself to another come, moaning my name louder
and more often than ever before. I bit my lip to stop from moaning yours in return,
realizing I wanted you to hear me, to burst out the door and fill me with your meat.
All my fingers fit easily inside that night and I fell to the floor. You took a long
time to clean up and I wondered if you knew I was there.

I pulled your hand onto my upper thigh the next two nights. You kept it still but
the third night you beat me to it, grasping the left page of the crossword magazine
and placing your hand on my thigh. After a few minutes you moved it ever so slightly
until your fingers dangled down the inside of my thigh, the tips only an inch or so
from my pussy. The next night they came close enough to brush the edge of my fur.


You didn't try to move closer but after about ten minutes or so, an eon it seemed,
your finger pressed into my flesh, then released. A minute or two later you did it
again and gradually did it more often. Press and release, press and release, press
and release.

It felt wonderful, so fantastic I almost forgot Don was sitting only feet away. It
was the most intense sexual touch I had ever experienced, bar none! My whole body
trembled in anticipation of the next press. And then you did it. You changed your
touch, pressing in and dragging the flesh of my thigh outward, away from my tingling
pussy, opening my secret lips, holding them exposed, then letting them snap back in
a flurry of frantic, neural impulses. I almost passed out and briefly lost hold of
my side of the magazine. By the time I came to my senses and grabbed it you were pulling
my pussy apart again.

I came quickly that night but harder upstairs where I didn't have to pretend nothing
was going on. Of course, you and I knew there was but we maintained the pretense.
During the day you didn't try to touch me any differently, simply hugging and kissing
my cheek or pecking me on the lips. But at night you continued to pull on my pussy
lips until we both came, right next to your father.

Upstairs, outside the bathroom, the urge to feel your meat filling me became stronger
each night. I wanted to beg you to come out, grab my tits hard and press me to the
wall, enter me with unbridled enthusiasm, then throw me to the floor and fuck me from
behind!

But I didn't call out, and you never put your hand on my pussy, upstairs or downstairs.
Nevertheless, eventually I knew I would beg for it or you would touch me. It was only
a matter of time and then our lives would change forever, and probably caught. It
was only a sign of Don's distraction that our shenanigans hadn't been discovered already.
Amazing, really, until I found out why.

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

A letter from the hospital arrived addressed to your father. Suspecting a billing
error, I opened it. It confirmed the date for the start of his radiation treatments
and follow-on chemotherapy. Don had cancer!

I stumbled into the kitchen in a daze and sat down. My husband was sick, possibly
deathly ill! We had been married for twenty-four years, survived the death of our
first child, and raised a fine son. Yes, we had our difficulties of late but I still
loved Don. I suddenly knew why Don disappeared at night and sat vacantly when he was
at home. He was preoccupied with his fate. No wonder he hadn't noticed Donny and I
playing around! But why should he face this on his own? Why hadn't he shared this
with his family?

Anger flooded through me and the more I thought about it the angrier I became. I was
his wife, Donny was his son, and we were a family! My hands trembled and I bit my
lip often waiting for him to come home. Boy, I was going to let him have it.

I didn't, of course. I did just the opposite. Don seemed, if anything, relieved that
I knew. He cried and admitted he couldn't find the courage to tell us. He didn't want
us to feel bad. Can you imagine? He was facing death and he didn't want us to be sad.


I thanked God nothing had happened between us that couldn't be undone and vowed to
redeem myself by providing exemplary care for my husband. I noted over the following
weeks that you must have made a similar commitment for while I cared for and cleaned
up after your father you did the housework, shopped for groceries and cooked most
of the meals. I loved you and knew you loved me but we also loved your father.

What had happened between us had nothing to do with him but apparently stopping it
had everything to do with him. You continued to help me with my crosswords but didn't
sit near me. The kisses on the cheek and pecks on the lips stopped, as did the hugs.
When I noticed, I wrote it off to exhaustion, physical and emotional. The first round
of radiation and chemo wasn't too bad but the second was, the third promised to be
worse and the last was reputed to be brutal. Those predictions proved accurate.

Don lost his hair and appetite, dropping about sixty pounds. He was weak, bed-ridden,
and the few hours you and I shared together downstairs were a welcome respite. Is
it surprising we starting hugging again? How could I not kiss you after months of
quietly picking up the pieces when I couldn't manage?

I was an emotional wreck after Don's final treatment. While feeding him lunch a few
days later he commented on your incredible support during his illness, and mine.

"I don't deserve it," he said. "I don't deserve either of you."

"Of course you do," I replied, sitting on the bed beside him, ignoring the now faint
pangs of guilt.

"I'm feeling better."

"That's good."

"Enough for you to leave me for a few hours," he continued.

"What do you mean?"

"I want you and Donny to go somewhere nice for dinner tonight. You both need a break."


"Don, I don't think that's a good idea."

"It will do you both good to get away from this for a few hours."

"We're fine."

I stroked his forehead but he caught my hand. I was surprised by his strength.

"See? I'll be fine"

"You're still very sick."

"Please. It will make me feel better to see you get dressed up and have a little fun."
His eyes pleaded with mine. "Please," he repeated.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Positive. Have a shower and then do me a favor before you go."

"What's that?"

"Let me watch you put oil on your legs. I noticed you were doing that a while back
and meant to tell you how good your legs look, but…"

I laughed. "You really are feeling better."

"I told you."

"Okay, but I'll take a long bath first."

"Take your time."

"I will."

"And then the oil. You do have gorgeous legs."

Those words made me feel great.

I fed Don early that afternoon and then took a long bath, disrobing in front of him.
I soaked for an hour, refilled the tub, and entered the much later bedroom wrapped
in a large towel. I let it slip from my body when I opened a drawer to get clean underwear.


"Oil," Don said. "Remember the oil."

"Yes, of course. I forgot," I lied.

I felt conflicted oiling my legs for Don. Memories surfaced of the hours I spent displaying
my legs for you when I thought he had given me up for a younger woman but I hid my
feelings and gave him a good show.

"You're beautiful," he whispered when I was finished.

"I wasn't bad years ago."

"You're sexier now. A mature woman, and a mother.

"Uh huh. May I get dressed now?"

"Please do."

Don smiled, weakly, but it was a smile nonetheless. He insisted that I wear my sexiest
underwear and put on one of my shorter, shape-enhancing dresses.

"But I'm taking my son to dinner," I protested.

"He won't know what's underneath."

"I should hope not," I replied sharply.

"I can picture you walking into the Brio on our handsome son's arm."

"That's an odd thought."

"Is it?"

"Kind of."

So you and I went to the Brio, since your father suggested it. I meant to hurry home
but we enjoyed ourselves so much I lost sense of time. It was late when we returned,
to a disaster, as it turned out. Despite his apparent strength, Don was still quite
sick and had fallen trying to get to the bathroom. It took us an hour to get him and
the bedroom cleaned up. The exhaustion, so quickly forgotten, soon returned. It was
after midnight when I descended the stairs to find you watching a late movie.

"I thought you'd be in bed."

"I made tea."

"Oh, Donny. You're a godsend."

I drank the tea and watched the movie in silence. I can't remember what it was but
do recall being conscious of you sitting next to me unaware of the sexy underthings
I was wearing. It stirred feelings within me I hadn't felt for many weeks but they
were accompanied by an incredible guilt.

"We shouldn't have gone. He's still sick."

"I know," you replied. "But he wanted us to. We did it for him."

"That's true. God, I'm so tired."

"Why don't you go to bed?"

"I'm more weary than tired."

You took my hand and put your arm around me, pulling gently. Comforted, I leaned against
you and we nuzzled heads. Long minutes passed as we swayed together, the tea forgotten.
You pulled away all too soon and leaned back onto the arm at the far end of the couch,
still holding my hand, and pulling me with you.

"Close your eyes and rest," you said.

My head landed on your chest. You patted my hair with one hand and stroked my back
with the other. It was nice and I was soon at ease. As the minutes passed, the strain
drained from my body and I sagged heavily upon you. I felt so safe and loved in that
moment. I began to drift off.

My eyes fluttered open, I don't know how much later it was but the movie was still
on. My breasts were pressed into your stomach and your hands were still on my back,
stroking. I smiled and thanked God I had been blessed with such a good son. I sighed
contentedly, and then noticed your hands were caressing my bare skin!

My dress was unzipped and the bra disconnected. Your hands scratched my back, sweeping
wide in overlapping circles that crossed either side of my spine. Although you didn't
touch me inappropriately your fingertips dipped dangerously near the side of my breasts.
Nevertheless, it was soothing and I relaxed, enjoying the, evidently platonic, embrace.


Slowly, I became aware of your hardness pressing into my stomach. I had seen your
bulge many times through the weeks that I teased you, and had imagined your cock while
you stroked it just a few feet away in the bathroom, but I had only felt it through
your jeans. Now, pressed in all its glory against my tummy with only your pajamas
and my flimsy dress dividing us I realized my imagination had fallen short.

It pulsed into my stomach as you breathed and moved a little as your arms crossed
from one side to the other over my back. I was torn. I loved the soothing feel of
your hands on my back but was more afraid of the seductive lure of the tumescence
pressing into my stomach. I knew I had to get up but couldn't bring myself to move
and kidded myself it was because I didn't know how to extract myself without embarrassing
you. You solved the problem when your hands abruptly reconnected the bra and zipped
up my dress.

"Wake up, Mom. It's time for bed," you whispered.

I feigned waking, supposedly unaware of the large tube steak pressing into my flesh,
conscious you had saved me from myself and that I lacked the ability to resist had
you made an inappropriate advance.

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

By noon the next day Don seemed better again and that night, after supper, he asked
me to oil my legs for him again. I did so, langorously, on the bed beside him. While
his attention was focused on my calves I glanced at his groin to see how much he was
truly enjoying the show. To my surprise, he was soft, completely flaccid!

Why, then, did he want me to act so sexy in front of him when he was so obviously
not interested, or capable of doing anything about it if he was? Why would he torture
himself? I didn't get it.

"Will you put on the pleated grey skirt with a white blouse?" he asked.

"If it makes you happy."

I picked out a bra but he stopped me before I could put it on.

"No bra."

"No bra? Alright," I agreed reluctantly. "But I'll have to get changed again."

"You can put a sweater on after."

"Okay."

I dropped the bra and chose a pair of white panties.

"Not those. The black ones."

"Don!"

"Alice!" he countered, and laughed.

"I can't parade around the house in little more than a thong."

"Only you and I will know."

I shook my head.

"Humor me," he pleaded.

I relented. "Alright, but I don't see the point."

"The point is I want to think about you walking around like that."

"Whatever get's you off."

When I was dressed, Don said, "Beautiful." His smile faded briefly and then strengthened.
He waved his hand dismissively and said. "Now go have dinner and let me rest."

I had thought Don might be feeling well enough to join us, but apparently not, so
you and I ate dinner alone. I could see you knew I wasn't wearing a bra which bothered
me because you might think it was because I let you unzip my dress. I wanted to straighten
you out but couldn't without acknowledging that I knew you had unzipped my dress.


I also didn't want to reveal your father's request because it was private but would
have needed to mention it for an adequate explanation. Moreover, I was afraid I might
let it slip that he couldn't achieve an erection and I didn't want him to seem less
in your eyes. Men can be funny about such things.

I was also confused about Don. If he thought it would help to watch me parade around
in sexy clothes why didn't he ask me to walk around the bedroom in front of him instead
of sending me away?

So we ate and did the dishes and relaxed in the living room, watching TV. Later, we
made tea and had a snack. I was aware of your eyes upon me the whole time. Although
conflicted, I did feel attractive and enjoyed the attention. I even looked at my legs
myself a few times. They looked damned good. I felt sexy.

You tossed a crossword magazine at me and I reluctantly started one, relieved when
you didn't move closer to me. Another hour slipped by. It was time to check on your
father. He was awake.

"Lie beside me for a few minutes," Don asked.

As soon as I complied he began touching me, gently, but in a definite sexual manner.
I guess thinking about me walking around the house in sexy panties excited him. I
glanced at his groin, expecting to see an erection this time but there was still nothing.
Saddened, I tolerated his caress and even let his hand slide up my skirt to cup my
sex. His touch was more patient, more considerate than when he was hard and eager
to get into me. I spread my legs to facilitate his gentle massage and waited for the
inevitable penetration, kissed his cheek, and nuzzled his neck. He massaged the skimpy
panties until they were damp.

"Okay, I'm tired now."

"What?"

"I want to go to sleep. Do you mind?"

"Uh, no. I guess not."

"Thanks, babe."

Downstairs, you were already leaning back on the couch, dressed in your pajamas. I
sat at the far end and watched the TV without really seeing. After a few minutes,
I turned and you stretched out your hand. I laid my head on your chest and settled
my torso between your legs. You started rubbing my back through the white blouse.
After a while, I noticed you were hard again. Very hard, unlike your father. I shifted
my head and sighed, but didn't 'wake' up. I liked the feel of your hardness against
me and wanted to enjoy it for a while. You were so big under your pajamas and I knew
it was because of me so I wanted to dream a bit. What harm could it do?

Your hands stroked my hair and rubbed down my back. They slid onto my skirt and I
held my breath. Your hands cupped my buttocks, measuring their shape and firmness,
as well as possible through the thickly pleated material.

I shivered and your hands returned to my back, scraping the white blouse out of the
waistband of the skirt. I lost track of time as your hands caressed my back and hair,
and returned to my skirt, again and again. I lost myself in the pleasure of it.

How long was it, I wondered, before the blouse had been worked up to my shoulder blades,
baring my waist and the sides of my breasts? Your hands were on my bare skin again
but my back still felt covered. It wasn't until your hands moved down to my skirt
that I realized it wasn't covering my buttocks anymore but had been flipped up to
warm my back. My ass was exposed except for the skimpy panties and your hands were
rubbing my bare flesh!

I was shocked by your brazenness. I should have done something but I didn't want a
confrontation. It was nothing, I thought. You were just copping a feel. You had been
stuck in this house with me and your father for months with no outlet for your own
stress. What did it matter if you rubbed my ass and pressed your cock against my tummy?
Or that I liked it but that thought was fleeting and quickly banished.

Your cock felt enormous. My mind turned to it and that's when you slid your right
hand off the crest of my left buttock, grasped the narrow back of my panties, and
pulled, dragging them deep into and through my crack until the larger part below pulled
up tightly against my pussy. You repeated this several times until I was reminded
of the way you pressed the flesh on the inside of my thigh, tugging my pussy lips
apart. How similar your method, and how effective.

I told myself to 'wake' up but put it off several times. No, that's a lie. I dismissed
the idea a dozen times. The pressure made my pussy feel like it was slowly cooking,
each tug pulling it up against the warmth of your balls. I told myself again to 'wake'
up but wished instead you would grab my tit. Didn't you know it was free and open
for the taking?

I moaned softly into your shoulder, unintentionally. The skirt was flipped down and
your hands scraped hard from my shoulders to my hips, pushing the blouse down. A moment
later I lifted my shoulders and looked sleepily into your eyes.

"I guess I fell asleep."

"Yeah."

"I should go to bed."

"Okay."

I was saddened by the disappointment in your voice. Again, I asked myself, what did
it matter if you copped a little feel? As I walked away from you, blouse untucked,
I resolved to be more sensitive to your needs. You were going through a tough time
too. I let my hips sway.

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

The next day Don asked me to lie beside him, naked this time.

"Can I put the oil on your legs?"

I nodded, knowing he wasn't really asking.

He spread the oil on my legs, trailing his fingers so lightly over my skin I became
aroused. His hand strayed onto my hips and then to my breasts, spreading the oil there
too. My nipples were so hard I ridiculously imagined I could accidentally poke his
eyes out. I giggled.

"Feel good?" Don asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"You look good in oil," he laughed. "Any man would love to touch your skin."

"I don't want any man to touch me," I replied.

His hand cupped my sex, and squeezed.

"You deserve to be touched."

"But not by anyone else," I murmured

"No strangers," Don agreed. "Did you have wine for dinner?" he asked, changing the
subject.

"Yes."

"I thought so."

"Did you?" I queried, playfully.

He changed the subject again. "I love your tits."

Don never talked like this.

"Oh yeah. My old woman's tits?"

He ignored the comment. "Don't wear anything to hide them."

"Okay baby."

Don pushed me away.

"I'm tired."

I put on a loose t-shirt and short skirt and presented myself for his approval. He
nodded and waved his hand. I left, turning around at the door to blow him a kiss,
and turned out the light. He had already turned onto his side.

I joined you downstairs and was pleased to see you had already changed into your pajamas.
There was pot of tea and a cup on the table but I ignored it.

"Whew," I sighed. "I'm bushed."

You held out your arms and I nestled between them, fitting my belly to yours and my
head on your shoulder, arranging myself higher than before so my skirt would be easier
for you to reach. Soon, I began breathing regularly so you would think I had drifted
off. It wasn't long before I felt your hands on my skirt. You pulled it up and cupped
my buttocks, staying still for several minutes before grasping the back of my panties.
The tugging began, forcing the strip of panties deep between my cheeks and pressing
the gusset onto my pussy.

Your cock was already hard and I felt its tip press against my bare belly when it
stiffened enough to poke out the waistband of your pajamas. My t-shirt had been pulled
up to expose my tummy without me even noticing. Brazenly, you pulled it higher to
bare my breasts. They flopped out but you didn't grab them. Instead your hands returned
to my ass.

"Jesus," you murmured.

You rubbed my cheeks and I realized the same time as you that Don had spread oil all
over my ass.

"Jesus," you muttered again, then pulled the panties out of my crack.

Your fingers reached farther, between my cheeks, and spread them apart, spreading
my pussy lips too. Your fingers stretched lower, between my legs, and pressed on my
lower lips, found my slit and rubbed your fingertip through it. Oh, God. I shuddered.


My hand rose automatically and before I knew it, had slipped between us to mold your
cock. The tip of your finger flicked, back and forth, digging through my slit and
I heard as well as felt how wet it was. I was in heaven. My mind screamed that this
was too much, way beyond copping a feel, but I didn't care. The touch of your flicking
fingertip was exquisite. I moaned into your chest but this time you didn't read it
as a sign that I was 'waking' up. Instead, you pressed your cock harder into my belly
and pushed your finger in deeper.

I pressed down upon your rising hardness but then quickly twisted my pelvis upward,
impaling myself even deeper upon you probing finger, and moaned again. Another press
of your cock and then up to greet the entrance of your extended digit through my inner
hole. I groaned and my fingers curled around your shaft.

Your finger pressed deeper until your knuckles pushed against my ass, blocking further
penetration. I tightened my muscles upon it and dragged, squeezing at the same time
so it wouldn't fall out.

My fingers lifted your cock off your belly and stroked it. Up and down, just enough
to pull the skin over the head, back and forth, squeezing, like my cunt was doing
on your finger. It was your turn to groan.

I felt fluid on my hand, exuding from your tip. Ahhh, sweet youth. So soon, so soon.
I dipped my head, an involuntary reaction, and stopped, but then pressed lower, just
far enough for my mouth to close over the tip. I stopped then, aware of what I was
doing, the head of your cock lodged in my mouth, unable to continue but incapable
of pulling away.

Your hand found my hair and closed, grasping it tightly, while the other dug two fingers
into my cunt, lifting forcefully enough to almost slide my mouth off your cock but
I resisted that too. You didn't press my head down but held it while your hips flexed,
pushing your cock deeper into my mouth, drew back, and fucked into it again.

"Jesus."

It went on and on, your cock pushing ever so little into my mouth and then withdrawing,
only to return again and again, your fingers keeping time sliding in and out of my
pussy. Though not really sucking your cock I was letting you fuck my mouth. I couldn't
stop now, it would be too unfair. I had to finish you and never allow it to happen
again. We wouldn't speak of it. We would pretend it never happened.

I moved my head, pushing down to take more of you into my mouth, trying to finish
you sooner. You groaned and pushed more of your cock inside me. I churned my ass against
your hand, thinking it would excite you and make you come sooner. It worked. You moved
faster and faster and before I knew it my throat was flooded with your cum.

You were so considerate. After pulling your cock gently out of my mouth and stuffing
it back into your pajamas, you pushed my skirt down to cover my ass and dragged my
t-shirt down too.

Then you whispered, "Mom, Mom. Wake up."

I groggily lifted my head, playing along with the ridiculous pretense you had enabled.


"Huh?"

"You fell asleep. Maybe you should go to bed."

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks honey."

I went upstairs, unsteady on my feet, wondering how things had progressed, or deteriorated,
so rapidly. I stopped at the top of the stairs to steady myself, holding on to the
banister, and suddenly stared at the small Danish table in the alcove and its delicate
matching antique chair. It was set about a foot away from the wall where it was normally
placed. That was odd. I put it back against the wall, then carried on to my bed and
slipped in next to Don. I was tired, so very, very tired.

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

I watched you closely the next day for signs you didn't believe my sleeping act but
detected none. As always, especially since Don became sick, you didn't encroach upon
my personal space unless I first approached you for a hug or kiss, and then you responded
platonically. I was relieved but also disappointed.

Don had a good day and didn't complain about being forced out of bed for a walk around
the bedroom. The day passed normally, including the pitch after dinner for me to change
in front of him with a visit to our bed to lie beside him. This time he wanted me
naked.

I was uncomfortable because I had forgotten to close our door but Don wouldn't let
me get up to shut it. He turned on his side and ran the fingers of his right hand
up and down my torso, arms, and legs for ages before teasing my nipples and then my
pussy. By that time, I was ready for it, very ready. Don kissed and nuzzled my neck
and whispered sexy things in my ear. I was extremely horny when he started to oil
my legs. He started at my ankles and took a long time to get above my knees.

"Spread your legs," he said, which I did without opening my eyes.

He stroked and caressed my legs as he rubbed the oil in. I raised my knees so he could
do the underneath where I liked to be touched but he spent more time in the hollow
between my pussy and upper thighs which was even better. When he was done, he spread
oil on my stomach, circling my navel many times before proceeding to my breasts.

"Turn over," he finally rasped.

I opened my eyes, surprised by the huskiness of his voice, but there was nothing in
his groin to match its timbre. I twisted onto my tummy and opened my legs a bit to
give him better access to my thighs. They had already been done but wouldn't mind
extra attention. Instead, Don's oily hand landed directly on my right buttock and
immediately began exploring its shape. I was surprised because he had never shown
much interest in my ass.

Don's hand rubbed and rubbed my buttocks up and down for quite a while before changing
to a side to side motion that alternately pinched my cheeks together and pulled them
apart. He worked from the top of my crack to the bottom where the motion transferred
to my pussy, reminding me of your teasing presses on the inside of my thigh. I wondered
if you were waiting for me downstairs and whether Don realized how ready he was making
me for you.

I liked having my ass played with which must have been apparent when I lifted my hips
to push it harder against Don's hand. When I started audibly sighing he surprised
me with a slap on my buns.

"There you go. I'm done."

I felt him turn onto his back but stayed where I was, searching for his hand with
mine.

"Away you go. I'm tired now."

I got up on my elbows and looked at him in disbelief but his eyes were closed. I released
a long exasperated, disappointed sigh but got up when it failed to produce a response.
I put on a revealing nightie with and covered myself with a form-fitting satin robe
but Don didn't open his eyes to watch. I turned out the light and walked quietly to
the door.

You looked up when I was half way down the stairs and smiled. I slowed my pace to
descend with a more elegant gait and went directly to the couch. You moved to the
middle to make room and I sat down, thanking you for the crossword magazine you handed
to me and which I immediately opened.

It was sham. Could I be more obvious? I was so horny I had difficulty keeping my breathing
even. Somehow — gosh, I don't how — my robe gaped open to reveal the depth of the
neckline on the shimmery green nightie. The inside of my breasts were exposed and
the gap in the nightie, which reached all the way down to a decorative knot at my
waist, even showed the curve of my breasts as they swept away from my torso. I may
as well have hung a sign asking you to stare at my tits!

However, you played the game well, pretending to watch me fill out the crossword,
which I had difficulty doing until you suggested the answers. I dutifully wrote each
one in but didn't come up with a single one myself.

I dropped my hands, with the magazine, onto my lap. The robe parted and fell off my
thighs. I realized it had fallen to the sides of my breasts too, leaving only the
flimsy nightie to do a poor job of covering me, so I lifted the magazine and started
penciling in a word. It was wrong but I wrote it in anyway. You suggested a word for
a downward cross and laid your right hand on my bare thigh. I wrote it in.

We completed that puzzle and then another, and another. Your fingers applied pressure
and released, again and again, pulling my pussy apart and then allowing it to close.
To my horror, I thought I heard my wetness but didn't try to stop your probing fingers.
When the magazine began to shake in my trembling hands you asked me if I wanted to
rest for a while.

"Yes, I need to close my eyes for a few minutes."

You leaned back and I turned to follow you without waiting for your hands to pull
me along. Your legs opened and I fit myself between them, snuggling up to your chest
just as I fell out of the skimpy nightie. My nipples pressed onto the flannel of your
pajamas and I sighed into your shoulder as my belly felt the press of your big hardon.


"I might fall asleep," I whispered.

"That's okay, Mom."

You patted my back and started to platonically rub my shoulders. I sighed and snuggled
closer, curling my arms up to put them around your neck. Barely three minutes passed
before your hands dipped to feel the sides of my breasts. I offered no reaction and
was pleased when they returned again and again.

Your hands began dipping lower and lower, past the small of my back and onto my ass,
rubbing my buttocks and slowly working the robe and nightie up until my cheeks were
bare. I smiled to myself and snuggled closer. You piled my clothes high on my shoulder,
leaving me naked from there down to my toes. Long strokes ensued as far down as you
could reach. God, it felt great!

Your fingers plied my crack, slippery from Don's oily hands, and spread my cheeks
apart, then dipped deep to slide the pad of your longest finger along its length,
pressing slightly harder when passing over my forbidden hole. I lifted my hips, demonstrating
an involuntary appreciation for your touch. You groaned and I felt your free hand
working the waistband of your pajamas bottoms over your hips. I lifted my weight to
make it easier, not caring that it would betray my wakeful state, and gasped when
I felt its heat on my belly. I hadn't realized the nightie had been pulled up to bare
my front too.

We moved together after that, your hands on my ass urging me closer, and me pressing
up against you. Though muted, our movements mimicked fucking and I worked the muscles
in my abdomen, undulating to massage your cock. I knew from your breathing you would
come soon and prepared to lower my head, quickly, to cover you with my mouth.

Suddenly, I felt an urge to feel your shaft sliding through my lips. I pressed my
hands against the inside of the couch's arm and pushed myself lower, turning my head
down and opening my mouth. One of your hands had left my ass and grabbed your cock,
lifting and steering it through my eager lips. We both groaned as it pushed forcefully
to my tonsils. I started to pull my head up but your other hand pressed down on my
hair.

That was okay. I groaned again and you pulled back, then shoved back into my mouth.
I kept still but your hand remained on top of my head, unnecessarily because I was
keen to let you fuck my face. Don had made me so fucking horny and you were receiving
the benefit. I slipped my hand between us and searched for your balls, gently squeezing
them as soon as they were discovered. The hand on your cock left and reached for my
ass but it was out of reach so it sought my tits and found them. You squeezed too
hard but I didn't care. I started sucking hard as soon as you pinched my nipple. Your
hips flexed faster and faster and your hand pushed my head down more firmly. The squelching
sound of your cock moving in and out of my drooling mouth was clearly audible, even
over our rasping breath.

Then you groaned loudly and your hips bucked up hard, and held, your legs trembling,
my head shaking, as you unloaded your sperm in my mouth. A small blast was followed
by a larger one and then a huge one followed by another big one, then two smaller
ones. Your weapon fell silent then, except for two tiny eruptions coincident with
a couple of jerking reactions as my tongue and lips cleaned your tip and shaft. Your
hand fell away to let my head move, clearly belying any notion that I was sleeping.


We were still for quite a while afterward. Almost. You didn't make any attempt to
rearrange my clothes nor did I try to cover my nakedness but your cock remained in
my mouth, softening, until I occasionally tightened my lips to suck it. Your fingers
played over my shoulders and upper back, periodically rising to massage my neck and
play with my hair, especially when my lips closed tightly around your cock.

I knew there was no sense feigning sleep this time. You had fondled my ass and fucked
my mouth, and I continued to suck you now. As your cock hardened in my mouth, beginning
to regain its former glory, I realized I had to stop. I pulled my mouth off and stirred.


"Mom, you fell asleep," you mumbled.

I rose up and my tits spilled completely out of the nightie.

"Really?" I asked.

You were too distracted to meet my eyes.

"Really?" I repeated, lowering my breasts toward your face.

Your eyes shifted upward but my tits mashed into your face and they glazed as you
tried to focus on my nipples. I maneuvered one of them into your mouth. My nipple
felt so hard I thought it would burst. I was so horny.

"Really?"

You sucked it hard and I grabbed the back of your head, my fingers closing in your
hair, and pulled upward.

"Really?"

I steered your mouth from one nipple to the other, pressing my flesh onto your face,
and didn't mind when your hands cupped my ass again, or when your fingers dragged
up and down between my cheeks. You spread them and rubbed their tips across my anus
and down to dip into my pussy, eventually pushing your fingers into my cunt. I groaned
and pushed my tits harder on your face. It was my turn.

"Finger me," I groaned, not realizing I had said it out loud until you pushed several
in deep.

"Finger me," I demanded, knowing I was begging and didn't care.

I had been so horny for so long the thickness of your fingers plying my inner walls
drove me crazy. My hips twisted and bucked trying to get more, to get you in as deep
as possible, to splay me wide. Oh, God, I wanted your whole hand inside me and squiggled
around trying, and succeeding, to get most of your fingers inside. Your hand pushed
upward hard enough to force my hips up and your mouth covered my pussy.

Oh, God! Oh, my fucking God!

You munched and licked and sucked and the whole time your fingers were working inside
me. I heard my wetness slopping onto your hand but the squelching sound merely led
me to thrust onto your mouth. A hand on my shoulder pulled me down and your mouth
pulled away and turned up. You wanted to kiss me. Your upper lip glistened with my
juice but I didn't care. I wanted to taste you.

I moaned as I lowered myself to meet your lips and gasped but didn't know until it
was too late that your cock had replaced your mouth. I was filled with something thicker
and more solid, probing deep, really deep, and I knew it couldn't be fingers. At first
I thought you had shoved your hand into me but then both my buttocks were grabbed
and squeezed.

The truth sunk into my mind slowly. I tried to pull off. I didn't really want to,
that is, my body didn't want to, but it was wrong to have your cock inside me. Somehow,
sucking it was okay but fucking it wasn't. I pulled my hips up high but yours followed.
We paused like that, me hovering over you with an inch or so of you still inside.
I could have gone higher, could have broken the connection, but I didn't. I groaned,
and slowly sunk onto your shaft, gobbling your cock with my hungry cunt until my lips
caressed your root. I sat on you, impaled, grinding, and whispered in your ear.

"Fuck me."

You didn't move.

"Fuck me," I repeated.

Still no response.

"Please," I pleaded.

Your cock twitched, and then rose, pushing me up, abruptly dropped, sliding that gorgeous
feeling out of me, them rammed back up, hard.

"Oh yeah, fuck me, Donny. Fuck me!"

You did. You banged up hard, furiously, then slowed, doing me softly, then hard and
slow, soft and slow, soft and fast, everything, bless you, you did everything. You
fucked me for a long time, way longer than I expected, and I was glad I had made you
come. You were so thick and hard, long and hard, and so alive!

I drenched you with my fluid, nearly broke you with my frantic twisting, wrenching
your cock this way and that. I couldn't get enough of it but inevitably it ended and
I fell upon your chest, exhausted, gasping for breath. A long time later, when we
were both breathing more normally, I pushed myself up and off you.

"I guess I fell asleep."

We both laughed. I pulled my nightie down to cover my breasts, stood, and wrapped
the robe around myself. When you sat up I said goodnight and turned away.

"Wait," you cried, but I didn't.

I couldn't face you. I quickened my pace and hurried up the stairs when I heard you
following but slowed when I neared the top and the antique Danish table and chair
came into view. The chair was in place, nestling against the wall, but a short, squat
glass sat on the doily near the vase. It hadn't been there before. I knew it hadn't.
I would have seen it. Your hands grasped my hips.

"Mom. Wait," you whispered.

Your hands slid over my hips, molding my ass. I moved forward, topping the stairs
and stopped. You closed the gap and your hands cupped my buttocks.

"Let me kiss you goodnight."

I turned and yielded, letting your hands to fold me into your arms, lifted my face
to meet your lips, and welcomed your tongue inside my mouth for the first time. My
hands stretched behind my back, fingers searching, until the glass was in my grasp.
You circled my waist with one arm but I kept the glass out of the way. The other pushed
into my hair and held my mouth to yours. You were seeking more than a simple kiss
and I gave it to you until my lips felt bruised and chewed up.

"Goodnight," I whispered, when your face lifted from mine.

"You're beautiful," you whispered.

I backed away, my bare feet slowly leading me unerringly to my bedroom door. I smiled
and blew you a kiss as I backed into my room, the glass hidden behind me. I pushed
the door shut, closing it with a quiet click, then turned to look at the bed.

Don was quietly snoring, the picture of innocence, but I knew he had been there, sitting
at the top of the stairs. I raised the glass and sniffed…scotch, his favorite drink.
He had sat at the top of the stairs, watching his wife and son fuck, while savoring
a single malt scotch.

Now the hour of teasing caresses took on a new meaning. He wasn't torturing himself
by forcing himself into a situation he couldn't handle. He had deliberately prepared
me to be easy prey for his son!

I stared at the bed, unsure of whether I wanted to get into bed with this man I thought
I knew so well but obviously didn't. What possessed him to do such a thing?

The answer came an hour later as I lay beside him, still awake. Hadn't I teased my
son right next to him night after night, believing he was unaware? I was such a fool.
Had that led to the notion that his son could take over for him instead of a strange
man? He had probably concocted his scheme at the depth of his illness and put it into
motion despite getting better. Did the idea have such a strong appeal to him by then?
How perverse.

It angered me until I realized how unselfish it was to satisfy my needs and give such
a generous gift to his son at the same time. Then I wondered if it was because he
didn't believe in his own recovery, that he might know something I didn't, and I became
afraid. No, he was definitely getting better.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Don was a good man. I had blamed him, wrongly, of having
an affair and felt ashamed. I loved him. I snuggled close to him. If he wanted me
to be with our son then that's the way it would be. After all, it was my fault. I
had started it.

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

The next morning I awoke with Don's fingers trailing over my body. My breasts were
taut, nipples hard, and my legs spread. I was horny and felt warm all over.

"Hey sleepyhead. It's about time."

I stretched.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know but you have a hungry son downstairs waiting for his breakfast."

"He can make breakfast himself."

"He can, but it's better if his mother does it for him."

Don kissed my left nipple and strummed his fingers over my mound.

"He can wait."

"I told him you'd make pancakes."

Don withdrew his hand.

"Okay. I'll make pancakes."

I put on a full length, white nightgown. Nothing sexy but with nothing on underneath
my body's aroused state couldn't be hidden. I blew Don a kiss and went downstairs
to look after you.

Your eyes lit up when you saw me and that heightened the state of my arousal. You
didn't try to hide your obvious pleasure.

"Pancakes alright with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Come with me. I want to talk to you first about last night."

My voice was grim.

I led you into the living room and pushed you into Don's chair so your head would
be out of sight from the top of the stairs. I didn't know for sure if Don was there
but I felt his presence. I refused to look. I pulled the nightie up to my knees and
knelt before you, pleased that the move was unexpected. You began breathing more rapidly
when I grabbed the waistband of your pajamas and tugged them down until your cock
sprang free. I smiled, and leaned forward, tongue pushing through my lips to taste
the underside just below your helmet. You groaned and I laughed.

"Were you waiting long for breakfast?" I asked between licks.

"Forever."

"Excuse me but I'm going to have breakfast first."

It was a slutty thing to say but I did it for Don's benefit. For the next half hour
I sucked your cock, at times thinking I was teasing you for Don's sake and at other's
for yours, but in reality I did it mostly for myself. What a turn on, sucking you
when I knew Don was watching and didn't know I knew he was, and definitely knowing
you were in the dark. Don seemed to want me to fuck you, and I wanted to fuck you,
and you wanted to fuck me, and only I knew it all.

I dragged my tongue up and down your shaft, covered your tip with my mouth and tickled
your balls, then wiggled my head to shimmy my mouth down to your root. I spit on it
and sucked it wetly, let you lift your hips to shove it deeper, but pushed your hands
away when you tried to hold my head. I rubbed your wet cock all over my face, painting
it with my own saliva, and then swallowed it again, and again, and again.

I hade never sucked a cock like this. Don knew that and I wondered if that knowledge
made me try so hard to such a good job for his son. Was it payback, or did I think
he'd like it better if I made him a little jealous? I didn't know. I was through analyzing
myself. I concentrated on your cock and pleasing you, and your father, and of course
myself.

I took it all, without spilling a drop and when you were done, while you were still
hard, I straddled your thighs and slid down your shaft, taking it deep into my cunt.
It was my turn and I made sure both of you knew how much I needed it.

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

That night, after dinner, Don spent a long time oiling my whole body. He spent most
of the time around my ass. Why did he suddenly like my ass so much? Was it because
you seemed to like it so much? Probably.

Anyway, I didn't complain when his fingers began spending a lot of time in my crack
after working around my pussy for a long time. He kept pushing his longest finger
in, rubbing it flat across my anus, again and again, until finally he poked it in,
just a bit. I moaned into the pillow and lifted my buttocks.

"Naughty, naughty, Alice."

I moaned something unintelligible and Don pushed his fingertip back. Minutes later,
he was pushing it in when every circling massage of my cheeks. Around from my hips
to the bottom, a lift and spread, then the finger dragging through and the push into
my ass, down to the second knuckle now. A bit of a wiggle and then up to massage my
buttocks.

My hips were gyrating, barely able to wait for the finger to return. It felt good.
I was surprised. Thought Don had never been interested in my ass many men had looked
and it made me wonder why. Did they really want to put it there?

Once, after consuming too much wine and during one of the few times Don did me from
behind, I had wiggled my ass to dislodge him. His cock landed high and I moaned to
indicate I was willing to try it there but he pulled it down and reinserted it in
my pussy. That was the closest I ever came to ass sex. Yet now Don was fingering my
ass and I knew he would soon send me away. He wanted me to let our son fuck me in
the ass. He pushed his finger in again and I lifted my hips until it shoved all the
way in. Don held it in, twisting it back and forth, then slowly pulled it out. He
didn't swirl around my buttocks but plunged his finger back in, all the way, again
and again. He leaned close and whispered in my ear.

"You have a gorgeous ass, baby."

"Do I?" I moaned.

"Yeah, baby."

I couldn't believe how easily his finger was moving in and out of me. Then suddenly,
it was tight again. Too tight.

"Owww."

"Shhhhh, baby. It'll be alright."

He was right. A few minutes later I was rocking my hips to pull both fingers into
my ass. I loved it. Then Don stopped.

"I'm tired now, baby."

"Okay, baby. Do you mind if I go downstairs?"

"No. Do your puzzles with Donny. I'm going to rest."

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight."

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

I went downstairs in the same long, white nightgown and did a couple of crosswords
with your help. I didn't let the nightgown slide up my legs or give any other indication
I was ready to play. I was simply killing time so you would think your father was
sleeping. After forty minutes or so I got up and dragged the coffee table away from
the couch and put it in front of the love seat. You didn't say anything but looked
at me funny when I knelt on the floor and leaned over the couch to rest beside you,
not over you. You tried to shift me over onto your lap, obviously wanting more of
what I had given earlier, but I resisted. You patted the seat by the end of the couch.


"Do you want to rest for a while, Mom?"

"No. I'm fine like this."

You watched me for a while. Neither of us moved until I pulled the nightgown up from
under my knees, then returned to my pleasant 'dozing'. You got up and went into the
kitchen. I heard you get a glass and fill it with water, then return to drink it.
You were watching me. I knew that my body was discernible beneath the thin cotton,
and that you would be focusing on my ass.

The glass was placed on the coffee table. You knelt behind me. Finally, you were getting
the idea. Your hands landed lightly on my hips, paused, and then slid up along my
waist to the side of my breasts. They pushed under until my nipples were pressed into
your palms. You squeezed my tits, hard but not harshly, enough to evoke a response
if I didn't want you to touch me.

Your hands slid away and the nightgown began rising up my thighs, slowly, bared my
ass and was pushed up onto my back. Hands on my thighs, sliding up to my ass, molding
it, plying my chees, squeezing them, spreading them, and leaving them. A hand cupping
my pussy, rubbing, feeling my wetness, probing, sliding in, joined by another finger,
and them moving in and out. Squelching. Was I that wet?

A hand exploring my ass while you fingered me. I twisted my head, toward the stairs.
It was dark up there. Was Don there? I knew he was. I pushed my hands back to my ass
and spread my cheeks.

"Beautiful," you mumbled.

I smiled and lifted my hips to show my eagerness. Your cock nudged between my thighs,
scraping up to my pussy, split my lips and pressed, slipping through the door with
a sudden plunge, and then stopped when the head was lodged inside. Slowly, you pushed
until your cock was completely inside me. You allowed me to accommodate your girth,
then started fucking me, gently, nicely.

Gradually, you moved faster and faster. You tried hard to be the cocksman but it excited
me more when I felt you lose control and started banging me harder and harder. Oh
yes, I knew you needed me then. I made sounds to encourage you, to let you know how
much I loved having you in me. I moaned in ecstasy when you grabbed my hair and lifted
my head. I wanted you to think you could do anything with me, despite the discomfort.
I wanted you to know I was yours to do with as you pleased. I was tired of plain sex.
I wanted excitement, to be fucked good and hard. I wanted to be surprised.

You fucked me good. You were almost too rough but not quite. I think you just got
carried away. Anyway, I encouraged it and I loved it, especially when you threw your
head back when you came.

Afterward, you stroked slowly in and out of me as if your cock was loathe to leave
the heat of my velvety glove. Eventually you fell out but I reached behind to catch
your cock and rubbed it up and down my crack, pulling the tip onto my little hole.
It took quite a while for you to catch on, before you realized I was trying to insert
your cock in my ass. You grabbed you meat, displacing my hand, and I pulled my cheeks
apart so there would be no mistake.

You started trying to push it in but it was too soft. That didn't last long. Soon
I was struggling to accommodate its girth, trying to relax to let it in. You were
hesitant.

"I don't want to hurt you," you whispered.

"I want you to."

"Mom, I can't."

Just then the head popped in and you groaned.

"You can."

You moaned.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

You pulled away.

"Don't," I cried.

You hesitated.

"Do it."

You pushed back in. My face screwed up and my eyes squinted but I turned into the
cushion to hide it.

"Don't stop."

I put my hand in my mouth and bit my knuckles. You felt so huge but I knew any man
would feel big back there. I had seen the amateur movies you had saved on your computer
so I knew it could be done but there was an accommodation period. I had also heard
the woman cry out Go slow and Don't stop.

You pushed in, way in, then pulled out, slowly, following my orders not to stop or
your own sensibilities from watching your 'movies'. In either case, you went in and
out, slowly, for some time. I knew you were trying your hardest to be gentle but it
was still hard to take. It felt so different! I wondered if I could I really do this
for Don. I no longer wanted to do it for myself. Just a bit longer, for Don's sake,
and then I would stop.

It started to get easier. It was okay, even felt not too bad. You were working more
smoothly now, moving faster but still gently. Yeah, it was going to be okay. Your
hand was stroking my back, along my spine, and the other reached around to tickle
my fur. Yeah, it wasn't so bad. Different, but not bad.

I liked the fullness of it. The pressure was beginning make me feel warm down there
and it was spreading through my pelvis, reaching up to my tummy and beyond. Oh yeah,
your finger was strumming my clit nicely now and your cock, God, it was beginning
to feel real good moving in my ass. My ass! God, I was being fucked in the ass! I
wasn't a boring housewife and mother anymore. I was kind of a…debutante.

I started moaning and you began moving faster. I wasn't making sounds for Don's benefit
or yours. I was totally into it and couldn't help making noise. I liked it. I found
it hard to believe but the whole thing was great. Not just your cock moving inside
me but the thought of doing it with you with your father watching, and you not knowing
about it.

I pushed back hard and pulled forward, popping off your cock with a gross sound. I
yanked the seat off the couch and, twisting, threw if on the floor. I grabbed a pillow
and tossed it on top and then fell on top of the pile centered on my tummy with my
ass pushed up. It took only seconds before you had straddled my thighs and pushed
your cock back into my dark place.

You rode me like that, sometimes sitting up high like a cowboy on a bronco and sometimes
hunched over like a jockey racing for the finish line. I bet you never thought you
father could see the ecstasy I knew would be flickering across your face. I lifted
my head and you grabbed my hair, probably thinking you were helping me arch my back
as I neared orgasm but in reality I was trying to look up the stairs. I thought I
saw a glint of light reflecting off a scotch glass but it was probably my imagination.
Regardless, I was certain he was there, watching.

I groaned and moaned and mewled and you fucked me just as loudly. You must have thought
your father was dead asleep under the influence of pain killers and sleeping pills.
When I dropped my head your hands hooked around my shoulders to help power your thrusts
into my ass which was taking a severe pounding. I didn't care. It felt good, damn
good!

You emptied yourself into my ass, which I discovered later wasn't a good thing. You
collapsed on my back, exhausted and spent, and stayed like that a long time. I didn't
try to dislodge you because I wanted to give Don time to retreat. I guess you thought
I was waiting to start again because eventually you began to grow and move. I pushed
you out then and turned over.

As if to prove you didn't want me just for sex, probably because we had gone at it
so hard, you kissed me then. Long and deep. It was beautiful and I was touched because
the tenderness couldn't be faked. I hadn't kissed that long and deep since our honeymoon
and I felt guilty thinking it was better. We kissed and touched and pressed for half
an hour or so before I finally pulled away. I think you would have kissed me all night
if I hadn't.

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

When I woke up the next morning Don was holding my hand and watching me. Though cold
it was sunny outside and the bright light shone on his face.

"Donny's downstairs making breakfast. Pancakes, I think."

I smiled. "Are you going to join us?"

He lifted my hand and pressed it to his lips.

"No, I'll stay upstairs."

"You have to rejoin the world sometime."

"I like the world in our house."

"Downstairs is part of that world."

"I prefer upstairs."

I became serious.

"Are you sure?"

I felt we were speaking to each other between the lines and we both knew it.

"Yes, for now."

"We miss you."

"I'll come down when I'm more comfortable."

"Okay. Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Everything is perfect." Don smiled. "Just perfect, like you."

I smiled. "I love you."

"I know," Don replied, and squeezed my hand.

I rolled toward him, lifted up on one elbow, and kissed his forehead, then twisted
off the bed and got up. I sauntered out of the bedroom, sashaying in my bare feet
to the door, the knee-length nightgown swishing around my knees. It was an old, threadbare
cotton nightgown and it clung to my ass, delineating my buttocks perfectly. I thought
Don would enjoy the sight of it and thinking about me wearing it downstairs to breakfast
with you.

I insisted you take a tray up to your father before we ate. While you were gone I
put the rest in the oven to keep warm and waited for you, syrup in hand. I pulled
your pajamas down as soon as you returned and pushed you onto a kitchen chair. My
calorie intake for the week was blown away in the next twenty minutes and more than
half a bottle of syrup disappeared as my tongue licked it off with long, loving drags
up and down your shaft. I let you mark me a little that time and though you apologized
profusely I know you loved the look of it on my face.

I went shopping after breakfast, overriding your objections with the excuse that I
needed to get out of the house for a while. In reality, I wanted to buy a few nice
things to wear, cheeky things, if that isn't too much of a pun. I was pleased with
my purchases and looking forward to wearing some of them that afternoon. Don was right.
Our house was our own little world and we could do anything in there that made us
happy. I was smiling, imagining myself walking around the house in front of you, and
Don of course. My body was tingling and I was distracted, very distracted.

I didn't see the red light. I didn't even hear the crash.

I always expected to out live Don. After all, he was nine years older than me and
male. I guess in some crazy way I thought we might even be alone for a few years.
I didn't imagine you being married with your own family. I suppose I didn't want to
think about it but that's what happened. Years after I was gone, of course. Don lived
for more another fifteen years, long enough to see two grandchildren. My heart aches
for what I missed.

He came by, you know, but didn't stay. You learn a lot here when you meet another
soul. You absorb everything which is probably why the few of us that stay avoid each
other so diligently. The newcomers don't know at first and are quite shocked when
they learn everything from those they meet and then realize they have completely revealed
themselves too. Meetings are brief.

Anyway, your father made a point of seeking me out. He knew I would be waiting. Not
for him, but for you. That brief whiff as he swirled around me before departing let
me know he knew everything about us and didn't begrudge it. He loved us both.

I was wasn't surprised to confirm that he had worked me up to enable, or at least
to encourage, sex between us. What I wasn't prepared for was why. It wasn't an unselfish
act. Quite the contrary.

You see, your father loved us but there was someone else he loved more and he had
been waiting to join her for decades. I knew in those brief seconds that he was leaving
to find his mother but I also knew, which he didn't because his senses hadn't yet
adapted, that she hadn't waited for him. Like most, she didn't linger in this inter-world
wasteland. Those that did were few and far between and had strong links down there
that couldn't be broken.

Oh, the despair your father felt as he left, unconsciously suspecting the truth. I
felt bad for him but was also shocked. I had no idea about his feelings for his mother.
He never talked about her but in passing here I knew what had happened.

Your grandfather's will left everything to your father. Your grandmother, who I remember
as a cold, calculating woman, did what she believed she had to. For her own security
she seduced her son. Of course, being a naïve teenager, he thought it was true love.
There was no internet then, no commonly available tales of incestuous love.

They made love for months and hid it well waiting your grandfather to succumb. I could
tell you some delicious stories and will relate them in detail when you arrive. Your
grandfather convalesced and here was no need for the will to be executed. As soon
as it became apparent he would live, your grandmother cut your father off. Evidently,
he never recovered from the emotional shock.

So, dear son, your father had a close call with death and that sped his emotional
and physical withdrawal from me, leaving me feeling confused and lonely. I flirted
with you to prop up my own need for male attention but let it go too far. Don noticed
and that prompted memories of his own mother. The fact that I was about the same age
as your grandmother when he first made love to her was not lost on him.

I like to think I would have come to my senses if he hadn't encouraged me to go further,
first by making me aware that he knew and second by working me up before sending me
downstairs to be with you. I truly believed it was what he wanted. Pleasing two men
that I loved, and who I now knew loved me, was irresistible. I thought Don wanted
to bestow a special gift upon you, and in a way he did, but it wasn't selfless.

Your father was vicariously reliving his sex life with his mother through us. I sensed
no remorse in him when he passed by. It made me sad because I knew he wouldn't find
her here and when he finally went up his disappointment would be magnified a thousand
fold. Don was destined to remain a tormented soul.

But you, my son. You'll soon be here. I can feel it. I've waited so long, so very,
very long and now you're almost here. I know it's hard to leave your family behind
but we can be together again and I can fulfill your needs like no one else can. We
were meant for each other. I know you were with them longer than me but surely our
love was stronger. We'll rise together.

Please hurry.

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

Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment and vote (but only once else it may not
count).

