URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20140723004439/http://www.literotica.com/s/scorn-and-reconciliation
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: Scorn and Reconciliation
Tags: Scorn and Reconciliation, alwayswantedto, mom, son, cheating, reluctant, anal, face, milf, romance, love, mother/son

Summary: A cheating father, a loving mother, and her son.

Copyright © 2009, alwayswantedto. All Rights Reserved.

All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mom picked me up from the airport when I returned from my first year in college. I
almost didn't recognize her, she had lost so much weight. Upon closer examination
in the car on the way home, I realized she hadn't lost a lot of weight so much as
reconfigured, or restored, her body's natural curves.

Her arms were slimmer and sufficiently toned to highlight the muscles above her elbow,
evidence of a regular if not strenuous workout, and the sleeveless dress worn in the
cool air showed she was no longer afraid to show a little skin.

Mom's breasts seemed larger. I couldn't remember noticing them before but they were
definitely noteworthy now if only because of their prominence over a waistline that
was narrower than I remembered. That observation jarred me. Not the revelation itself
so much as the noting of it, seeing my mother as an attractive woman.

And her legs. Gosh. Mom had legs, just as tanned as her arms and it wasn't yet summer.
In fact, such a tan even in late spring indicated she had lost her shyness some time
ago. This observation triggered the memory of her walking toward me, the muscles in
her legs flexing differently depending on which part of her stride they were currently
engaged in, like her arms, reflecting the light or not the way only exercised specimens
could. That, though unconscious at the time, was my first observation of Mom the woman.


Yes, my once plumpish Mom was fit and trim, and much more lively than the worried
woman that had bade me goodbye last fall and the sullen mother I had spoken by phone
at Xmas. It wasn't just her joyous enthusiasm in welcoming her only son home. She
exuded a bubbly energy I was sure would still surround her in my absence, that was
more like my mom of yesteryear and hinted of the woman my father knew in his youth.


Mom was aware of my surprise and admiring glances.

"So, what do you think of the new me?" Mom released the wheel with her right hand
and swept it from her chest to her knee.

I stumbled on my words and failed to produce an intelligible sound.

Mom laughed. "I've been working out and eating differently," she explained.

"What brought that on?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Things."

Mom's cheery demeanor briefly flattened but returned when she changed the subject
a moment later. However, as we turned into our subdivision, Mom's disposition dulled
with each block until we pulled into our driveway.

"Go say hi to your father while I put the car in the garage. You can get your bags
later."

I did as Mom said. Dad was glad to see me but there was something off about him, like
he was on edge about something. I spent the rest of that late Friday afternoon in
asynchronous visits with my parents. Strangely, they were never together in the same
room for more than a few minutes. One would always leave shortly after the conversation
shifted between me and one to me and the other. They never engaged each other directly.
By supper time I knew there was something definitely wrong. After dinner, I joined
my father in the living room while Mom cleaned up in the kitchen.

"You can relax on your first night home," Mom had refused my help. "Why don't you
go visit with your father?"

It was a command, not a question, so I repaired to the living room to watch sports
with my dad. It was only then that I noticed that the TV, the whole entertainment
cabinet in fact, had been moved to the end wall, replaced by the love seat and two
end tables that had previously occupied that spot. I sat on the couch, near Dad, and
looked for the remote that was always present on the table between his big chair and
the couch.

"What happened to the TV?" I asked, looking from the love seat to the TV placed awkwardly
for viewing along the far end wall, shutters closed so it couldn't be seen anyway.


Dad didn't even look up from the book he was reading.

"Your mother thought we should talk more or enrich ourselves with more cultured activities,
like reading, instead of watching mindless things like football or baseball."

I was stunned! Dad was an avid fan of football and baseball, and all things sports.
He would even watch golf or a fishing show if nothing else was on. Yet, he seemed
resigned to his fate. I couldn't detect the tiniest shred of bitterness or resentment
in his tone.

"We watch a DVD on Saturdays," Mom chimed in, calling from the kitchen.

I fiddled about for a few minutes, picking up and flipping through some of the magazines
stacked on the shelf under the end table. They were all women's magazines.

"You're in my spot," Mom said, emerging from the kitchen and walking directly to where
I was sitting.

I thought she was kidding but Mom stood in front of me waiting for me to move. Mom
sat down as soon as I vacated the seat.

"You don't have to go," she said as I moved right around the coffee table.

"That's ok. I'll sit on the loveseat," I replied.

I picked up the remote from the open shelf under the TV and opened the shutters before
flopping on the loveseat, feet up and leaning against the far end, facing the TV.


"We don't watch TV anymore," Mom said, adding, "except for a movie once in a while."


I ignored her and turned the TV on, displaying the list of movies. I picked one and
tried it but was rewarded only with a subscription notice. I tried another and another
with the same result.

"What happened to all the channels?" I asked.

"Your mother canceled everything but the basic service," Dad muttered, still not looking
up from his book.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Mom snapped.

Dad didn't answer. I was shocked again. What happened to my Joe-man father, the dominant
player in a relationship that started in high school?

I gave up after a few more tries and shut the TV off. I looked at my parents, sitting
near but ignoring each other. Mom flipped through magazines and Dad studiously read
his book though I could tell he was annoyed by the rattling of her pages.

Mom's stockinged feet were stretched out straight onto the coffee table and she held
a magazine flat on her lap. She was looking intently at each page as she flipped through
but wasn't spending enough time to be truly engaged by anything she saw. She appeared
so unlike the woman that drove me home. I took advantage of each parent's exaggerated
concentration to re-examine Mom's figure, the other thing that was new.

As I noted on the way home, it wasn't just Mom's arms that were more sculptured. Her
legs, even covered in nylons and lying flat on the table, were clearly more streamlined
than before. Even through the hose, I could see more shapely calves and slender thighs
that no longer bulged widely like they once did when she sat down. I couldn't see
much of her narrower waist but her breasts were quite noticeable, especially when
her arms moved to change pages, jostling the targets of my gaze and producing a rippling
effect in her dress, not to mention an aftershock in my mind after every casual flip.


My eyes ranged higher and I realized with another shock that she had cut her hair
short in a very cute, modern style that emphasized the length and grace of her neck
as it curved out to form her shoulders. The unkempt, shoulder length hair was gone.
How had I not noticed that until now?

I finished with a final, shocking observation: Mom is a very sexy woman!

How could my father ignore her? Why wasn't he trying to get rid of me so he could
take her to bed? She had obviously gone to great effort to change her looks. What
was the matter with him?

"You can watch a movie if you want to, sweetie," Mom quietly suggested. She raised
her eyes to meet mine and I looked back and smiled engagingly.

"That's ok," I said. "I'll finish the book I was reading on the plane."

Mom nodded and continued flipping pages. Dad ignored the exchange completely. I went
out to the car and got my book which I'd left on the seat. Nothing had changed when
I got back. I sat down and started reading, leaning back against the arm of the love
seat with my feet propped against the far end. I looked over at my parents when I
changed pages in the stultifying silence.

They hadn't moved. Except, Mom had pulled her knees up and braced her feet against
the coffee table. The only remarkable thing about this change was the angle of her
legs, demurely held together all the way to her stockinged feet. Mom had twisted slightly
to fit her back into the corner of the couch, allowing her to face at a slight angle
away from my father but not so far that she couldn't brace her feet on the table to
keep her knees up. She hadn't turned her back on him but her posture still registered
disengagement. Dad had similarly twisted slightly the other way, keeping his book
firmly on his right thigh, the one farthest away from Mom.

I looked back at the sight that had first caught my attention. Mom's feet were positioned
off-center, slightly to her left on the coffee table from her perspective, leaving
a nice side view of her right leg, including the underside of her thigh. I could now
see she was wearing individual nylons rather than pantyhose as I had assumed without
really thinking about it. Somehow, this was more than mildly arousing, mother or not.


Mom's sleeveless summer dress had a loose skirt and, though the front of the hem was
piously pinched between the magazine and Mom's leg almost up to her knees, holding
it in place, the back had fallen almost to the cushion. Not enough for me to make
see Mom's panties, but sufficiently far for my mind to excitedly register their near
presence.

Something stirred below in the engine of my young manhood. I kept staring until my
head jerked with the realization of what I was doing. Quickly, I turned back to my
book but my gaze slowly strayed back to run up and down the backs of those older but
youngish looking legs. I'd seen more before, on women with much shorter skirts, so
why was this so arousing?

I kept glancing back at my book and staring under Mom's dress until she threw the
magazine onto the table, the sharp sound jolting my gazw back into my book. After
Mom selected another, I repositioned myself, propping a cushion under by side and
draping my arm over the arm of the loveseat. Lying on my side like this, I could hold
my book in front of me, directly in line of sight with Mom's sexy legs, as it turned
out.

My first tentative peek above the pages immediately registered that Mom's upper hem
had slipped an inch or two lower which dropped the lower hem, exposing more of her
thighs. Enough, I happily noted, that I could make out the faint presence of lightly
colored panties in the dim light under Mom's skirt. I stiffened sufficiently in my
jeans to cause discomfort and though I rebuked myself, my eyes strained to see more.


I was sporting a full hardon when Mom surprised me by lifting her feet off the coffee
table and swinging them onto the couch when she changed to a more comfortable position
resting against the arm of the couch, back toward my father. Luckily, she didn't look
my way for I didn't have time to react and would have been caught staring under her
dress.

I was disappointed now that I couldn't see the underside of Mom's thighs but I regained
a little enthusiasm when I noticed Mom's dress slowly slipping lower and lower, or
should I say higher and higher, on her thighs. Within minutes, the skirt was piled
across Mom's thighs, almost down to her hips, baring most of her leg.

I almost came when Mom's hand left the magazine to idly scratch the side of her knee,
then absently drifted lower, gently scratching the bottom of the nylon almost as an
afterthought, until it reached the darker band near the soft flesh of her bare leg.
Mom's hand returned to flip a page, then returned to her knee and quickly slid down
to the top of the nylon where her fingers toyed with the edge before slipping lower
to touch her bare skin.

I thought my boner would break with an audible snap when Mom's fingers casually stroked
down her thigh until her hand met the cushion, paused, and returned to the nylon's
edge, dragging her caressing fingers behind in a slow, to me teasing, stroke. Pause.
Again, the soft caress down the underside of her thigh and then back. Again and again.
My cock was throbbing in tingling, sensual pain.

Was I mistaken? I looked closer. No.

Mom's hand had slipped further under her leg, allowing her fingers to stretch in to
touch the softest skin of her leg, the inside of her thigh. My mouth was dry. I could
feel cracks forming in my lips. Several times, Mom's hand rose to turn the pages of
her magazine but each time it returned directly to the bare skin underneath her upper
thigh to resume its erotic caress.

Mom's hand left again. I waited for the sound of a flipping page that would signal
its imminent return but it didn't arrive. I looked up. Mom was smiling at me, her
face seeming abnormally soft and lush.

"Boring book?" she asked softly.

"Uh, yeah," I stammered, blushing.

"You can watch a movie if you want."

I shook my head.

"Would you like some tea or hot chocolate?"

"No thanks." My face was definitely flushed. I wished I had said yes so I could recover
alone.

"Pie?"

"Yeah, sure. That would be great."

"Ok. Come on, then."

Mom got up and stepped over to the love seat, holding her hand out to me to grasp.
I made a great effort of groaning and thankfully, she gave up and went into the kitchen.


"You have to come and get it yourself," she tossed back over her shoulder.

There was no way I could have stood with Mom right there, not with my huge boner.
I held the book in front of myself to make sure I didn't have a wet stain on the front
of my jeans. Thank god I didn't for I had no excuse for changing my pants before entering
the kitchen. It was several minutes before I stood up and adjusted myself, thankful
for Dad's continued, almost religious, attention to his book. I joined Mom into the
kitchen.

Two plates of pie were sitting on the table, a big one at the end and a smaller piece
kitty-corner. Mom was filling two mugs with hot chocolate. There were only two.

"I thought you'd change your mind," she said as I entered. "Sit down. That's yours
on the end."

Mom brought the mugs over and set them down as I filled my mouth with a large chunk
of hot apple pie and French Vanilla ice cream. Before she sat down, Mom lifted her
right foot and set in on her chair. My eyes strayed over the length of her leg.

"Ohhhh, I've had such an itch tonight," she complained, scratching the side of her
calf. "It's been a real bugger."

Mom seemed genuinely irked as she vigorously scratched up to her knee. Her skirt moved
higher as she scratched, moving along the side of her right thigh, her hand gradually
slowing to a languid rub. My eyes were glued to her leg. Suddenly, both hand and leg
dropped and Mom sat down.

"Don't put so much into your mouth," she admonished me, filling her spoon with a more
reasonable quantity of pie and ice cream. I was surprised when she inserted it into
my mouth, the way I suppose she did when I was a toddler, scraping the drips from
the corners and pushing them inside.

"There," she said, returning her spoon to fill it again but this time putting it into
her own mouth which was smiling sweetly at me.

"None for Dad?" I asked.

"No," Mom curtly replied. "So, what are your plans for the summer?" she asked, immediately
changing the subject.

I chatted with Mom for some time after we finished our pie and hot chocolate. When
I finally left to go to bed, I noticed that Dad had already gone upstairs. He hadn't
even said goodnight.

* * *

I undressed as soon as I got in my room but I avoided going to bed. I think it was
because I was so excited I knew I would masturbate and didn't want to do that with
Mom still fresh in my mind. So I busied myself unpacking my bags and putting my clothes
away. I walked about the room, my hardon tenting my shorts. It was quite a while before
my boner subsided.

Lying in bed, my thoughts turned the bizarre events of that day. Mom was definitely
aware of my eyes roaming over her body on the drive home. And though I didn't think
so at the time, I was now sure she knew I was looking at her legs while she sat on
the couch and might have even facilitated my view. It wasn't the scratching of her
leg in the kitchen that convinced me; it was the way she had slowed her hand down
as she stroked the length of her thigh, as she had done on the couch. Mom had done
that on purpose.

But why?

She was playing around. That was certain. But why didn't she openly laugh about it,
acknowledge the joke? Why act like it wasn't happening? And what was going on between
her and Dad?

I fell asleep thinking about Mom. I had forgotten about masterbating. I drifted off
to sleep, lying on my stomach but with my hand cupping my balls outside my shorts.
My cock stiffened as the memory of Mom's fingers stroking up and down the underside
of her thigh filled my mind.

When I woke in the morning I discovered the crusty evidence of a wet dream.

* * *

Saturday was more normal except that Mom and Dad continued their mutually minimal
communication strategies. Mom was dressed in a form fitting, bright orange t-shirt,
navy blue shorts and shortie white socks that barely showed inside her stark white
running shoes. She was wearing a bra, but one made of very light material that didn't
blatently advertise its presence under her t-shirt. That was the first time in my
life I had noticed whether or not Mom was wearing a bra. Another precedent-setting
observation.

Mom's shorts gripped her hips and dipped into a shallow V-shaped ravine on each side
before rising in a gentle swell to form her belly. I was sure that little hollow in
front of her hips didn't exist last summer. Mom had really trimmed up and the rise
and fall around her pouting tummy drew my eyes as she moved around the kitchen drinking
a large glass full of some special protein drink. As soon as she finished, she was
gone, I guess doing what she normally busied herself on Saturdays.

It wasn't until late in the day, just before supper, that Mom treated me to another
viewing of her legs. She arrived in the kitchen just as I was sneaking a piece of
pie.

"Aha, I caught you," she yelled, her hand pounding my back, causing me to smear pie
all over my cheek and upper lip.

Mom laughed and then placed her bare foot on the chair. This time, no nylons appeared
when Mom's loose skirt pulled back to make room for her scratching fingers. What had
happened to the navy blue shorts? The hugging, orange t-shirt was still there. She
scratched longer this time, allowing me to admire the tautness of her forty-three
year old legs, legs that looked like they belonged on a much younger woman, not the
mother I had left eight months before. I looked so close that I could see a sparse
population of tiny little blonde hairs on the top of her thigh.

"Jeez, that feels so tense," she mumbled as she stroked her leg. "I'm getting old."


If she was fishing for compliments I was ready to comply except that my tongue was
in my throat. She had swept her skirt so far back that I could see the leg of her
pale yellow panties running all the way around the outside of her thigh.

"Look how I bruised myself," Mom said, twisting away to show me a discolored area
on the bottom of her thigh just below her bum. She raised her skirt even higher for
me to see, higher than necessary, exposing most of her right buttock.

"How did you do that?" I asked, right away trying to think of something else to say
to keep her holding the skirt up.

"I don't know," she answered, her voice relaying the pain of that moment. "I noticed
when I got out of the car."

"Because it hurt?" I asked, peering closer at the very slight bruise.

"Yes," Mom's voice sounded girlish.

"Does it still hurt," I queried, lightly pressing my fingertip near it, feeling amazed
at myself for doing so.

"Yes," Mom's voice was very low.

I circled my fingertip around Mom's wound. She sucked in her breath.

"Careful," she cried.

I slowed my exploration, moving in a wider circle. After several circumnavigations,
I abruptly trailed my finger quickly down Mom's thigh to the back of her knee, then
returned to circle her bruise again. By the way her leg tensed up I had surprised
her but she didn't say anything.

"Your leg really is tense, Mom. Maybe you should massage it after running," I suggested.


"I can't reach back there very well, now can I?" Mom replied.

Just then, we heard Dad coming down the stairs. Mom let her dress fall and I pulled
my hand away as she slid her foot off the chair.

"What would you two like for dinner?" she asked as Dad entered the kitchen.

* * *

Mom was far more congenial with my father at dinner that night. While she wasn't exactly
friendly to Dad, she didn't snap at him and actually spoke directly to him a couple
of times without being prompted to do so. Dinner was ruined for me to some extent
because I couldn't get the feel of Mom's soft skin out of my mind and the way her
leg trembled when I ran my finger down its length. I didn't know what was happening
but I knew I wanted more of it.

After dinner, Mom asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I declined, preferring to lie
on my side pretending to read while watching Mom's legs. Mom surprised me by spreading
a magazine out on the coffee table and proceeding to paint her nails. This was ok.
Mom bent over so she could see what she was doing and frequently forgot to keep her
knees together. I had many more views of Mom's pale yellow panties but from the front
this time. Even though the dim light under her dress didn't allow me to see clearly,
I was a happy camper.

"There," she declared happily, leaning back, lifting her feet and spreading her toes.


I made an issue of raising my head to admire her display, as if I hadn't been watching
all along. Dad kept his face buried in his book. Mom seemed happy with the results.


"Want to watch a movie with me?" she asked.

"Sorry Mom, but this book is really good."

"Oh all right." Mom picked up the remote from the table between her and Dad and swung
her feet onto the couch, legs open and toes spread to dry. I wished I was sitting
on the end of the couch. What a vantage point that would be.

As Mom's chick flick progressed, she began to absently run her fingers up and down
her leg again. I watched intently, marking each inch that her hem slid down until
it was resting across her hips again. I could see the side of her entire leg and part
of her panties to boot but even if Dad turned Mom's way, he wouldn't be able to see
that with her back toward him.

It felt strange to be openly ogling Mom's leg with my father right there. I had stopped
any pretense of reading since Mom kept her gaze focused on the TV. As her hand slid
up and down the 'S' curve defining the underside of her thigh, I remembered the feel
of her skin and wished it was me caressing her this way. What was that she had said
before had Dad had so rudely interrupted us?

I can't reach back there very well, now can I?

Was that an invitation or just a casual remark? Even if it wasn't really meant, it
was an opening I could use. I longed to touch her intimately again. The dryness in
my mouth returned as I expanded to fill my jeans. I couldn't watch this much longer
without messing my pants but I couldn't tear myself away. Every once in a while, Mom
stretched her toes, tensing the muscles in her leg prettily. I'm sure she was unaware
of the effect but it was thrilling to see. Such a simple, casual act had such a devastating
effect on my groin.

Mom's hand paused, very low, fingers disappearing between her legs, and I lost it.
I couldn't help it. I focused all my attention on remaining rigidly still, desperate
not to be discovered coming in my pants. I was unable to stop my legs from vibrating.
Shortly thereafter, Mom paused the movie.

"Hot chocolate?"

"No thanks, Mom," I managed to croak.

When she was gone, I got up and said goodnight to Dad, careful not to speak until
I was past his line of vision. I heard Mom asking where I'd gone as I entered my room.


"He said he was tired and needed an early night. Jet lag catching up, I guess."

* * *

I showered and got in bed but I couldn't sleep. Mom's legs wouldn't leave my mind.
About an hour or so passed before my parents went to bed. After everything settled
down, I listened intently to the sound of my parents' low voices through my partially
open door. I could see down the hallway that their door was partly open as well.

"I don't care." Mom's muffled, angry voice drifted down the hall to my room followed
by a longer, unintelligible mumble from my father.

"That's your problem. You don't really expect me to do anything after what you've
done, do you?"

More mumbling.

"I don't know. As long as it takes." Mom's voice was shrill.

My father's voice rose. "Fine! You need it too. You know how you are."

This was followed by what sounded like someone jumping on a bed, or perhaps turning
over aggressively to make a point. Silence ensued.

Some time later, Mom said, "You left the hall light on."

Dad didn't answer. I was caught off guard by Mom's sudden appearance in the hallway
to turn off the light. I was sitting up, propped on my elbow to listen better and
quickly flopped down, twisting round to lie on my stomach. The bed creaked and Mom's
head swiveled around just as she was about to flip the switch.

Through slitted eyes, I saw her turn and walk toward my room. She was dressed in a
long, gossamer nightgown. The light fell behind her as she approached my doorway,
lighting her head like a halo and starkly outlining her body through the nightgown.
I couldn't see much detail on the dark front of her body but I had the distinct impression
she was naked underneath. Mom stopped at my door.

"Eric?" she whispered.

I didn't answer. I shut my eyes and feigned sleep.

"Are you awake? Did you hear us?"

I chanced a deep breath, breathing as evenly as I could, followed by more of the same.
When I heard the soft sound of Mom's hand sliding off my doorjamb, I partly opened
my eyes. Mom was treading quietly back to the light switch. The slight sway of her
hips as she walked away made her look incredibly sexy. As she passed under the hall
light, her back lit up. I only caught a brief glimpse before the hallway went dark
but in that instant I knew Mom wasn't wearing anything under that nightgown.

I closed my eyes and slid my hand down to cup my cock and balls.

* * *

Dad wasn't in a good mood the next day. I felt awkward between them, given what I'd
heard the night before and was happy when they each slipped off to engage in their
own activities for the day. I did the same, retiring to my room to fart around on
my computer.

I waited until early afternoon to go downstairs to get lunch, hoping to be on my own,
but Mom was there. She was drinking a cup of coffee and browsing through a stack of
magazines on the kitchen table. I felt her eyes on me several times as I made a couple
of sandwiches and poured a large glass of milk. I was about to take it all upstairs
with me when she asked me to sit with her for a few minutes. I sat down and filled
my face.

"I guess you've probably noticed that your father and I are having a difficult time
right now."

"Oh?" I said, innocently.

Mom smiled. A weak smile that allowed my pretense but acknowledged that she knew I
knew.

"Something happened and we're trying to work through it," she explained. "I'm having
a hard time with it," she added, wringing her hands.

"Is there something I can do?" I asked.

"No. I don't want this to affect you. Just give us some room. It may take a while."


I guess I looked curious because Mom headed me off.

"You don't want to know," she said.

I nodded.

"Your father needs to pay some penance," she added. "A little punishment won't hurt
him."

"Like no TV. No sports. Except chick flicks," I stated.

"Right," Mom confirmed. "I'll bend a little soon and let him have some of that back."


I nodded, agreeing that might be a good idea.

"But not anything else."

Mom didn't explain what that meant but I had an idea.

Later that afternoon, Mom asked me to help her swap the TV unit and the love seat
around. Dad didn't notice until after supper but seemed very pleased. He immediately
put the news on. Mom sat in her usual place and touched up her toenails before getting
into her magazines. I stretched out on the love seat, lying on my side, supposedly
reading but actually watching Mom, reveling in the fine line of her legs and the arch
of her feet, loving the way her calf muscles tensed when she examined her toes.

After the news, Dad put on a baseball game and Mom swiveled around with her back to
him, perhaps making a point about his selection. I was thrilled because with the new
position of the loveseat, I was looking straight at the back of Mom's raised thighs.
I spent the next hour following her hand as it strayed up and down her leg. From this
angle, I could see her fingers stretching right across the underside of her thigh,
tickling the inner part of her leg. I imagined it was my fingers coming so close to
her panties.

"Hot chocolate and pie?" Mom broke me out of my reverie.

"Yeah. That would be great, Mom." I didn't even blush though Mom had surprised me
while I was looking over the top of my book.

"You have to work for it," she said. "Help with the dishes?"

I looked pained but I looked forward to being alone in the kitchen with Mom. Maybe
I would get another leg show on the chair or even another look at her 'bruise'. If
not, I could ask her how it was doing.

"Ok," I said, as if it was a huge conciliation.

As I followed Mom into the kitchen, Mom said, loudly, "Close the door so we don't
disturb your father's game."

I pulled the pocket door from the wall and snugged it shut. We were alone.

It made sense to have our pie and hot chocolate first so we could wash those dishes
too, but Mom insisted we work first. We loaded the dishwasher, me rinsing and Mom
loading, and then filled the sink to do the delicate dishes and the pots that wouldn't
get clean enough in the machine to satisfy Mom. It was while the sink was filling
that I made my move.

"How's your bruise?"

"My bruise? Oh. It's ok. I didn't feel it at all today. Forgot all about it."

Shit!

"I think it must have gone away."

Shit, and more shit.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "With all the exercise you're doing, it could be a sign of
a bigger injury." Like I knew anything about exercising.

"Hmmm," Mom considered what I'd said. "Can you take a peek for me? My hands are all
wet."

Fantastic!

Tentatively, I lifted the hem of Mom's skirt.

"Go ahead. You've seen my legs before."

I lifted the skirt up. There was a very faint trace of the bruise, barely visible.


"Well? Is it gone?"

"Almost."

I ventured a brief touch. Mom flinched.

"Did that hurt?

"A little."

I touched Mom again, gently this time, circling around the edge of the slight discoloration
like I had the day before.

"Does it hurt there?"

"No. Actually that makes it feel a little better."

I circled my fingertip around and around, slowly.

Mom turned off the tap and began washing a wine glass, just as slowly. I widened my
circle so I could touch her further inside her leg, until my fingertip brushed against
her panty leg at the top of the circle.

Feeling the need to make excuses, I said, "You really should massage your leg, Mom.
It's really tight."

"I can't reach back there easily. Could you do it?"

"Sure," I answered.

We were both speaking quietly, though there was no need with the dishwasher on and
the pocket door closed.

"Since your father and I aren't getting along so well right now." Mom must have felt
the need to explain why she wasn't asking him to do it for her.

"I understand," I said, almost whispering.

I continued caressing Mom's soft skin, reaching further inside her leg. I was still
holding her skirt up and, keeping my hand away so she wouldn't realize what I was
doing, lifted it higher until I could see Mom's panty-covered ass.

Awesome!

Mom finished the glass, put it in the rack, and started washing something else. It
must have been a pot because she scrubbed harder and this made her butt jiggle. Her
panties were part way down her ass so I could see a stretch of bare crack. I loved
the way her cheeks jutted out and jiggled underneath the panties. Her butt was so
prominent it was almost like looking at her cleavage.

I couldn't believe she was letting me do this and that made me think of my father's
words to her last night: You need it too. You know how you are.

Mom seemed to be getting a little restless with the extent of my finger massage. I
was afraid she was about to put a stop to this, realizing how odd it was to let her
son do this, argument with Dad notwithstanding.

"Oh, I think you've got a bruise on your other leg."

"Really?"

Concern now replaced restlessness.

"Yeah. In the same spot. Were you riding a bike?"

"No. Well, the exercise bike at the club."

"Jeez, this one looks worse."

I moved my hand to Mom's other leg and began gently stroking the skin under her other
buttock. There wasn't a mark to be seen but the skin was just as soft.

"It is bigger," I said as I let my fingers stray further between Mom's legs. "Does
it hurt more?"

"A little," Mom replied.

Christ, I really wanted to push my other hand under her panties to cup her ass and
let my thumb slide into her crack, but I didn't dare. I was amazed at what I was doing,
let alone touching her bare ass. Mom let me rub around her new bruise for a couple
of minutes until we heard a commercial come on in the other room.

"I think that's enough for now," Mom said.

"Ok." I dropped Mom's skirt, letting it fall, and pulled my hand away. But I when
I did, I let it brush against Mom's panty-covered ass, lightly dragging over her cheek.
I smiled as she sucked in her breath.

"Do you want me to massage your legs tomorrow?"

"Maybe," Mom answered after a brief pause.

Just then, the pocket door started to open so I stepped to Mom's side and picked up
a pot from the rack, grabbing a dish towel with my other hand. I let the towel drape
over the front of my jeans so my hard cock couldn't be seen.

* * *

I made sure I was in bed way earlier than my parents that night. I turned the hall
light off so my more than half open door wasn't so obvious. I drifted off.

"I don't care."

Mumble, mumble.

I couldn't see anything. The hall light had been turned off.

"Well, obviously I don't need it as much as you."

Mumble, mumble. Angry mumbles.

"Go get it from her if you need it that bad. But don't come home if you do."

Mumble, mumble, mumble. Submissive mumbles.

Silence.

I waited, straining to hear more. Nothing.

Time passed. I don't know how much, but it was a long time.

I started drifting off.

The light flicked on!

I opened my eyes, then squeezed them into a squint. Mom was in the hallway by the
light switch. She turned and walked slowly toward my room. She was wearing a housecoat
loosely tied at her waist. Shit. The light didn't shine through that. As she neared
my room, I couldn't see any evidence of a nightgown underneath. By the time she reached
my door, I was sure of it. Christ, she was sure making my Dad pay. She must have gone
to bed naked and then put him off. What a tease. She must be really mad at him.

I shut my eyes and waited for Mom's call to see if I was sleeping and readied my deep
breathing gambit. The call didn't come. I raised my eyelids enough to see. Mom was
still standing by the door. Slowly, as if not really sure about what she was doing,
Mom pulled the belt loose on her robe. She held the belt in her hands for a moment,
then let them drop to her sides. A few seconds later, she parted her robe, holding
it open.

Curse the darkness! I could see the naked swells at the sides of her breasts, could
sense their heaviness, but the light, behind her, was too dim to provide any detail.
I had the sense she wasn't wearing panties but couldn't see for sure. She just stood
there, holding her robe open.

Then, slowly, Mom shucked the robe off her shoulders and swung it around, folding
it over one arm. Just as slowly, she turned, pausing halfway around, her tits sloping
down and then sweeping out, nipples jutting upward. She completed her turn and sauntered
down the hall and as she passed under the light, I saw her bare ass wiggling away
from me above a pair of legs that looked longer than I knew they were.

Mom paused at the light switch, turning her head to the side as if she was going to
look back, but she didn't. The light went out.

* * *

Mom didn't ask me to give her a massage but she did put on the same leg show for me
each of the next three nights. It wasn't until Thursday that she mentioned that she'd
made another pie. BTW, Dad didn't like pie. She waited until the news was over and
a game had started before making the offer and demanding I help with the dishes. I
didn't put up the pretense of a fuss and I closed the pocket door without being asked.


I stood behind Mom, dishtowel in hand, as she filled the sink. Mom started washing
a glass but she moved with the same unusual slowness as on Sunday night. I draped
the dishtowel over the rack and lowered my hand to the hem of her skirt. Mom kept
washing. Slowly, I raised her skirt and followed it up with my other hand. Not a word.
No invitation but no rebuff. Gingerly, I touched her leg.

"Careful," Mom cried, startling me. "It's sore, today."

I was touching the 'new' bruise, the nonexistent one.

"Sorry, Mom. I'll be gentle."

Mom didn't say a word as I began my 'massage'. I caressed Mom's thighs while she slowly
washed each glass, moving back and forth between legs. I held her skirt high so I
could see what I was doing and also look at her ass which jiggled delightfully when
she scrubbed the pots. She was wearing a smaller pair of panties tonight that clung
lower on her ass, showing more of her crack. Once more, I felt the strong urge to
push my fingers into it, under her panties, but chickened out again.

I was ready for the mid-game commercial set this time and was drying a pot when Dad
opened the pocket door. I kept my boner turned toward the counter. It was in no danger
of subsiding, nor was the tingle on the back of my hand, where Mom's panties had rubbed
as I scraped it up her behind.

Dad left the pocket door open when he returned to his game. I didn't care. I slipped
my hand under Mom's skirt. I didn't bother lifting it, I just slid my hand up and
continued where I had left off. Only this time, I rubbed further between Mom's legs
and 'accidentally' bumped the bottom of her panties several times.

When Mom finished the last pot, I offered to check out her bruises to see if the massage
had helped. I lifted Mom's skirt and leaned down for a close look. She smelled warm
and damp. I noticed that her panties had slipped down on her buttocks, baring more
of her crack, possibly from my bumping hand.

"It looks like they're getting better," I said, straightening up.

I glanced at the open kitchen door and grinned, holding Mom's skirt even higher. I
leaned close to Mom and let my hot breath expel over her ear.

"I think the massage is working," I whispered, patting her on the ass and letting
my hand linger, cupping her right cheek so lightly it could be considered accidental.


My cock throbbed, triggered by the hissing sound of Mom sucking her breath in. I tightened
my fingers slightly and let her skirt fall. I started drying the dishes.

"You promised pie and hot chocolate," I said.

* * *

I didn't hear anything from my parents' room that night, not until I heard Mom gently
shut the bedroom door. This time, I was ready when the light came on. She paused after
flicking on the switch, one knee pressing against the wall, as if thinking or waiting
for something to happen. I strained my eyes, hoping to catch a flash of nakedness
under her loosely belted robe when she walked toward me.

But Mom surprised me. Still facing the wall, She shucked her robe off and let it fall
to the floor!

She turned, slowly, and sauntered toward my room. The light shone on her wobbling
tits as she padded barefoot down the hallway. In no hurry. Naked, not even panties,
her neatly trimmed bush pulsing as her legs scissored beside it. Her body darkened
as she passed under the light. Then she was at the doorway, surprising me again when,
after a brief pause, she stepped into my room. It was so hot that night I had tossed
the sheet to the backs of my knees. I was only wearing my underwear. Quickly, I shut
my eyes and instituted my breathing regimen.

She stood beside my bed, her breathing even, but excited. I sensed her bend over and
then felt the sheet sliding up my legs, stopping unexpectedly below my shorts instead
of being pulled over my back.

I flinched when Mom's hand slid gently up my buttocks, brushing slowly from side to
side. Her fingers slipped under the waistband and pulled my shorts down, baring my
ass. Holy fuck!

Mom's soft hand brushed across my buttocks again, squeezed my cheek, then pulled my
shorts back up. The sheet was dragged up to my shoulder.

I heard Mom's knees flex as she stood. I let a few seconds pass before daring to barely
open my eyes. She was walking slowly away. Naked as a jaybird. The most sexual woman
in the world. She was through the door, passing under the light. She stopped, and
almost fell to her side against the wall. Mom's hands disappeared in front, her right
leg twisting toward the wall. Her legs strained and twitched as she cupped her sex,
maybe even fingered herself. She shuddered, legs vibrating, cheeks quivering. Half
a minute later she straightened and lifted herself off the wall, walked to the light
switch and stooped to pick up her robe, then turned to look back at my room. I froze
even though I knew it was too dark in my room for her to see me. Were my eyes reflected
in the light from the hall? A flick and darkness fell; a door opened and shut; the
night was silent.

* * *

The next day was Friday. All day at my brain dead summer job my mind was filled with
visions of my naked mother beckoning, calling, whispering how much she needed it,
needed me. I rushed home, eager to see my mother, get dinner over, and push my hand
under her dress. Then I would wait until my father fell asleep so the hallway could
be blessed again with a maternal vision. I would wear loose boxers to bed tonight.
They were easier to pull down.

As hoped, Mom was wearing a short-sleeved summer dress with a loose, billowing skirt
that fell conservatively to her knees but slid easily up her thighs when she sat with
her knees raised, as she did that night after supper to do her nails, feet resting
on the edge of the coffee table. I couldn't see Mom's panties from my position to
the side lying on the loveseat but that was ok. Mom's skirt was bunched around her
hips as she leaned on her knees, reaching forward to paint her nails. Her legs shone,
the light reflecting off her oiled skin.

Mom raised one foot periodically to examine her handiwork, twisting it this way and
that to facilitate her critical review. I wasn't the only one interested in her unintentionally
sexy examination. From my vantage point, I could see Dad's head turn slightly Mom's
way every time she lifted her leg, the muscles in her calf tensing as she pivoted
her foot. Clearly, Dad was interested in renewing the marital relations he had sewered
through a flirtation or worse that he now obviously regretted. Was Mom sending a signal
that she was about to forgive him his trespass?

There was to be no kitchen massage this night. Mom developed a craving for French
Vanilla ice cream and Dad insisted I fetch some from the store. When I returned, Mom
had cleaned up the dishes and set out a piece of apple pie for her and me, and a piece
of cake for Dad. The ice cream was quickly added and we all returned to the living
room where a chick flick had been started, watched by both my parents. Mom tucked
her legs under herself and spread her skirt out to cover everything but her feet.
I recognized defeat and made excuses about being really tired from a week's work.
I retreated to my room where I browsed around on the internet until I heard my parents
getting ready to go to bed. Quickly, I shut off my light and jumped into bed.

I waited, tense, listening intently after the sounds of my parents getting ready for
bed died down. There was a creak as a weight depressed a mattress followed by a brief
silence, then the rustling of bed covers.

"No." Mom's harsh voice was clear and firm.

"Come on, Marina. It's time to get past this."

"You think it's so easy? Well, it's not."

"Come on. I know I made a mistake. I've being paying for it for six months. It's time."


Six months! They hadn't done it for six months?

"It's time when I say it's time. Not a minute before."

"Then what was that all about downstairs?"

"What?"

"You know what. Flashing your legs at me for an hour. Asking for a treat, getting
me some cake after giving me the cold shoulder for half a year?"

"I was just doing my nails." Pause. "Is that what you thought? Get her some ice cream
and suffer through a chick movie, then upstairs for the goodies?"

"No. I just thought, the way you were acting, normal again, that it was over."

"It won't ever be completely over, not after what you did."

"I don't know how long I can do this, Marina." Dad sounded angry. There was a loud
creak, probably from my father turning over to present Mom with his back. "I'll never
get to sleep now. You got me all worked up."

"Take a pill." There wasn't a note of sympathy in Mom's voice.

Some time passed with significant rustling going on.

"Damn it!" I heard the sound of covers flinging off the bed. A dim glow filtered out
of my parents' room. Someone had turned on their bathroom light. The bathroom cabinet
opened, followed by the sound of pills spilling on the sink. "FUCK!"

The water ran for a few seconds, then shut off. The bed groaned again. Covers rustled
several times over the next ten minutes and then everything was quiet. I waited. And
waited. I could hear my father sleeping. Not snoring but breathing heavily. I couldn't
hear Mom. A faint glow still emanated from my parents' room. Dad hadn't turned off
the bathroom light.

I never heard Mom get out of bed. The first indication she was up was a flitting shadow
momentarily blocking the faint glow from her room. She didn't turn on the hall light.
I barely had time to turn onto my stomach before she was at my door and then only
got three quarters of the way. She didn't stop at the door this time, she came right
in.

I could hardly make out the sound of her breathing beside my bed. Suddenly, it was
lower, next to me. She was kneeling. I was so excited, I had trouble controlling my
own breathing. Shit. I hadn't had time to toss my sheet down to my feet. Shit!

"Eric," Mom whispered so softly I almost missed it. I struggled to even my breathing.


"Eric," she whispered again, a little louder. I allowed a louder breath followed my
quieter, more even ones.

"Eric?" No louder, but she touched her hand to the back of my right shoulder.

Miraculously, I managed a minute of completely steady breathing.

Mom's hand was still on my shoulder. The sheet began sliding down my back. Down, down,
to my waist.

"Beautiful boy," Mom whispered. "Look what love can do."

The sheet continued its journey, over my buttocks and down my legs to my knees. Mom's
breathing quickened, ever so slightly.

"Marina. Get hold of yourself."

There was a pause and, thankfully, whatever struggle ensued in my mother's mind, the
more exciting part won. Her hand suddenly rested lightly on my ass. There was only
the briefest lapse and then it was moving, rubbing over my cheeks in an ass-encompassing
oval that stopped to quickly cup my left cheek on each pass. Thank god my cock was
pointing up. It filled and stretched in my boxers. Mom started humming quietly to
herself.

"Mmmm mm hmmm, mmmmmm mmm hmmmm..."

I hoped my ears weren't twitching. Her hand felt so nice. It stopped mid-circuit,
at the top. I felt a thumb hook in the waistband and then my shorts were being tugged
down until the elastic stretched across the back of my legs just below my bare buttocks.
Mom's humming sounded somehow more cheerful though it was no louder. Her hand returned
to glide over my tender cheeks.

This was so much better than wanking. I wished I had pushed my hand underneath myself
so I could squeeze my rod and press the tip into my palm. That thought made me realize
with a start that I wasn't lying flat on my stomach. If it was light in the room,
Mom would be able to see from her kneeling position at my side. She would know I was
hard. Thankfully, the darkness hid my dirty secret.

Mom tugged the waistband of my shorts again, without success. I was disappointed when
she took her hand away, it felt good there. She tugged on my shorts again, this time
from the side of the hip near her. No go. Her hand slid over to the other side and
was replaced by another on the near side. Both hands tugged down. Still no go.

"What's the problem?" Mom whispered. Then, "Oh, they're stuck on something."

Mom chuckled.

"Is my boy having sweet dreams?"

More soft laughter. Mom's far hand, the one on my left hip, returned to my ass and
tickled near the bottom of my crack, her long finger pressing lightly between my cheeks.
The near hand slid down my hip, toward the mattress, and my front.

My god. Omigod. Mom had slid her hand under the front of my shorts. Fuck. It was so
soft and warm. I could feel myself growing rigid as a stout piece of re-rod. Her fingers
slid up and down and her palm cupped my tip. So warm and silky. So soft.

I was bare! I must have poked out the hole in front of my boxers. Mom was holding
my bare cock!

"Oh son," Mom whispered. "You have such a nice one." Her hand milked my cock and her
finger pushed deeper between my cheeks to tickle near my rear hole. "Not too big.
Just the right size...for everything." She wiggled her fingertip into my butt.

Mom started humming again while she worked my cock and my ass. It wasn't for long.
She seemed to know when I was going to come because just before the torrent raged
up my pipe, her hand pulled out of my ass and joined the other to cup my cock. I pulsed
and throbbed into her improvised, motherly bowl. When I was still, Mom stood. I could
see her faint shadow block the dim light emanating from her bedroom door. She paused
just past the door and turned the light on from my end of the hall. She was naked.


Mom stepped forward two steps, then her shoulder fell against the wall but not quite
the same as she had before. Her arms lowered toward herself. Her hands, which had
been held in front of her, were now pressed to her front. Her right leg which had
last time twisted in, now spread out to make room for both hands to fit between her
legs. I think she was pressing her cupped hands, full of my cum, into herself, spreading
it all over her pussy.

Mom's ass tightened as she ground herself on her hands. I propped myself up on my
elbow to watch. She hadn't pulled my boxers back up or covered me up with the sheet.
As Mom humped her hands, mine found my sticky cock and stroked it. Less than a minute
later, Mom cried out.

"Ahhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhh, jeeezzzzuzzz, ohhhhhhhh, god!"

Her legs stretched and strained so hard I thought she'd snap the her muscles. When
she finally relaxed, she brought her hands to the outside of her hips and rubbed them
down her thighs. Then she walked unsteadily to the far end of the hall. As before,
she turned her head to the side but not far enough to look back. I was still propped
up on my elbow. With the hall light on, if Mom had looked, she would have seen me
watching her.

She flipped the switch, and was gone.

* * *

Dad was a little groggy the next morning but Mom was bright and cheery. She was wearing
a pair of navy blue shorts with a high, hidden-elastic waist. The loose legs were
longish, to mid-thigh level, and a little baggy on the legs. But not on the butt.
There, the material stretched tightly, clinging to Mom's slightly sagging, prominent
cheeks, making them stand out even more than usual—a treat for male eyes.

Mom's bare midriff was topped by a short-sleeved, checked shirt tied under her breasts
in front. All through breakfast, I couldn't get the vision of Mom turning, the light
behind her creating a silhouette of her breasts capped with jutting nipples perfectly
designed for sucking. Of, course I maintained a boner throughout breakfast, my tip
tingling with each jarring mouthful of crunchy granola, imagining instead the insertion
of a long nipple.

Dad made a haphazard attempt to concentrate on the morning paper. He wasn't in a good
mood.

Mom went out to do her weekly grocery shopping and I tagged along, pushing the cart
like I did when I was a kid. Mom appreciated my help and I appreciated her shorts
as she wandered from side to side in the aisle in front of me. I was in no hurry and
Mom didn't seem to be either, taking longer than I remembered to decide between different
brands of this and that.

I loved it when she read a label. Her head ducked down a bit causing her shoulders
to slump which in turn pushed her tits onto her stomach which resulted in a meaty
press against her shirt, making her nipples visible underneath. I could see the edge
of a light, lacy bra through the gap in the front of her blouse. I liked the way the
silky material clung to the round inner side of her breasts. I wondered what it would
be like to hold them. Imagining it, I almost knocked an old woman over rounding the
corner at the end of the aisle trying to catch up with Mom.

Around the corner, Mom was stretching her head over her shoulder, trying to look at
the back of her leg, her hand pulling up the edge of the shorts on her right leg.


"Something wrong," I asked.

"No," she replied. "My leg hurt for a minute. I was trying to see if that bruise is
still there."

Before Mom could react, I reached down and pulled the leg of her shorts up.

"Yup, still there," I confirmed.

"Eric!" Mom pushed my hand away and quickly looked around, looking relieved when she
saw we were alone. Her face flushed pink.

At home, I carried the groceries and then helped Mom put everything away. At least,
I handed stuff to her. Dad had gone upstairs as soon as we arrived, saying he was
going to have a nap and he couldn't understand why he was so tired.

The last thing put away, Mom said, "I think I'll have a little lie down too."

She left the kitchen and I got myself a large glass of milk. As I drank it, I wondered
what the evening would bring. Would Mom fondle me again? Would she make me come in
her hands? The thought of it made me hard and I had to unzip my shorts to adjust myself.
Before I did them up, I wanked myself a few strokes, thinking about Mom's swaying
butt while we were shopping. I resolved to help Mom shop every Saturday.

I rinsed my glass and headed upstairs thinking I may as well browse around the internet
or read a book. I was surprised to see Mom lying down on the couch, flat on her stomach.
I approached her quietly, not wanting to wake her from her nap.

"Mom," I whispered.

No answer. I sat on the edge of the couch. It was deep enough to accommodate me beside
Mom's slender form. Tentatively, I lay my hand lightly on the bare part of Mom's back,
below her shirt. She didn't react so I slowly moved my hand down over the rise of
her buttocks, pausing to take the measure of each cheek. Mom stirred. Quickly, I slid
my hand down to the back of her legs.

"Wha...?" Mom queried in a sleep-heavy voice though she had only being lying down
for a few minutes.

"I'm just checking your bruise. You said it was sore," I explained in a hushed voice.


"Oh." Mom laid her head down on the small pillow that her hands were slipped under.
She hadn't raised her head even an inch.

I played around the bruise on Mom's right leg, the original one, lifting the leg of
her shorts a little to improve my access.

"That feels good," Mom mumbled. Her legs opened a bit.

I kept circling my finger around her bruise, moving in a wider and wider circle like
I had done in the kitchen. I kept it up until Mom's breathing was deep and even, then
I let my fingers stray deep between her legs. I reached high enough inside her shorts
to find the passage to the other leg and here, I allowed the backs of my fingers to
brush against her panties. Nothing happened for many long seconds and then, her hips
lifted almost imperceptibly, pushing the full puffiness of the bottom of her pussy
against my knuckles.

Nirvana. I was at the entrance to heaven.

Careful not to move abruptly, I continued in the same timid manner. I let Mom's lifting,
arching hips increase the pressure and then I matched it until we were moving together.
My whole being was focused on perfecting that tiny, rubbing motion. She became warmer,
and damp. This woman needed to be fucked!

I couldn't move more within the constraints of Mom's shorts and, worse, I couldn't
see anything. After a few more minutes, I pulled my hand out of her pantleg to a disappointed
sounding sigh from my 'sleeping' mother. I put both hands on Mom's ass, one on each
cheek, then slipped them underneath to the front. I fumbled around until I managed
to unfasten the waistband. As I tugged her shorts apart, the zipper quietly undid
itself. Pulling the shorts around, I dragged them down over Mom's ass until they were
stretched across the back of her thighs. I didn't have to pull her panties down. They
had come along with the shorts.

There it was before me. Mom's bare ass.

I reached down to fondle a cheek in each hand. Somehow, I knew Mom would remain 'asleep'.
Gently, I caressed her cheeks, squeezing them in my fingers, separating them and sliding
my hands together until my thumbs met in a line along her crack. I leaned down and
planted a soft kiss on each pearish cheek. Spreading her apart with my thumbs, I stared
at her slightly brownish hole, a crinkly little donut, really. I was surprised to
find it so clean and before I knew it, I had kissed it.

That brought a quiet "ohhh" from Mom, so I leaned in and did it again, this time flicking
my tongue out afterwards for a little lick.

"Mmmmmmm," was my reward.

I flicked my tongue rapidly side to side, or cheek to cheek, grazing over the outside
of her pucker, dragged up in a slow, wet lick, and then pushed the tip inside, the
first time my tongue had ever been inside an ass. I was amazed that it didn't taste
awful. It was all right. It was more than all right for Mom because she jerked against
my face.

"Ohhhhhhhh," she sighed.

I sat up and slipped my hand between her legs, palm forward so my fingers could cup
her pussy. Mom groaned into the pillow. I dipped a finger inside her wet slit and
started to gently frig her cunt, moving my finger back and forth through the little
canoe by pivoting on the second knuckle.

The sound of a bedroom door opening upstairs caused me to leap to my feet. I stumbled
over the coffee table and when I righted myself, Dad was already at the top of the
stairs. I carried on, as if I was going upstairs anyway.

She must have been dreaming, or I had kicked off some kind of automatic response,
because Mom lifted her ass up to me, regularly matching my forward thrusts. It was
the longest, and best fuck yet, except for that time I pushed her head onto Dad's
cock. That was in a category by itself.

After I finished, I lay on Mom wondering if I'd ever be able to get Mom to consciously
fuck me. She flirted around with me, sure, but that was a long way from letting me
into her pants. Maybe I could try flirting more, kissing her. Maybe if she would let
me kiss her regularly and cop a feel, she'd let me go further. Especially if she wasn't
getting any from Dad.

What if he got fed up waiting and went back to whoever he fooled around with? Mom
would never forgive him a second time and then I'd have her all to myself. Could I
encourage it somehow? No, I couldn't do that. I loved both my parents and I knew deep
down they still loved each other. High school sweethearts. No. Mom had been hurt,
scorned, and she was just making Dad pay before she took him back, and that's where
he wanted to be. I had to face it. This was going to end soon. I'd just have to make
the most of it while it lasted, and then live with the memories.

I rolled off Mom and stroked her back, gently and loving. I loved my Mom. Yes, I loved
having sex with her but I also loved her as my mother. She was a truly lovely woman.


My strokes extended into the small of Mom's back and then out of the little hollow
up the rise to her buttocks. I brushed my hand over her ass, lovingly cupping her
cheeks, slipping my fingers down to run their tips up her crack. Mom's breath caught
and her legs parted.

Oh, yeah. Mom had reacted strongly that day on the couch when I kissed her ass. My
cock began stirring at the memory. My touch became more sexual and I didn't return
to Mom's back, opting instead to keep caressing her ass. I extended my longest finger
and pushed between Mom's cheeks until its tip found her crinkly asterisk. I wiggled
my finger on it and Mom moaned in her sleep.

Was she dreaming, dreaming about getting it in the ass? Did she and Dad have anal
sex? I couldn't picture it. It didn't seem to match their times, or the high school
sweetheart scene. Ass fucking just seemed to be too bohemian for my straight parents.
But look at her ass flinch when I poke her there, and look at it lift up for more.
Whether she's done it before or not, she likes it.

I leaned over on Mom's back so I could see better and also put my free hand into play
spreading her cheeks. I wiggled my finger until it disappeared up to the second knuckle.
When I pulled it out, I sniffed it and then drooled into her crease. Catching up my
saliva, I pushed it into Mom's bung hole. My finger slid in easier this time.

Lubricant au naturel, I chuckled, pulling out and drooling onto Mom's pucker again.
Soon my finger was moving easily in and out. Adding a second finger caused Mom to
flinch and groan, but a few minutes later I was again moving easily in and out.

Make the most of it while it lasts, I remembered my thoughts of a few moments ago.
Ok. I'm fucking her ass tonight.

I kept up my ministrations, concentrating on getting Mom's ass to relax, working her
rear love muscle wider. I was ready. I got up on my knees and straddled her ass. Something
made me look over to check on Dad. Wait.

I pulled Mom up onto her knees and twisted her toward Dad. Let's have a replay. I
let her fall over Dad's hip, then nudged her up until she was bumping against his
ass. Perfect height. I put my tip on her pucker and pushed. In, in. That's it. Awesome.
Slowly. Man, she was so tight. Shove, steady pressure, that's it, in farther, yeah,
tight, wait, wait, more, that's it. I'm in. Fuckin great.

I started pulling out and shoving in, slowly, very slowly. Gradually, Mom loosened
up and before long I was enjoying my first ever ass fuck. I leaned over her, then
straightened up, then leaned over, changed from fast to slow, grinding. I was exploring.
I'd never done this before and didn't know what would be best for Mom since she was
sleeping, so I concentrated on finding what I liked best. Grinding deep. That was
it, my favorite, reaming her butt.

I tried to see her face as I ground around but it was too dim to see her expression.
She was moaning softly so she must like it. I didn't think I could put Dad's cock
into her mouth. Was he hard? I pulled Mom up to see. He was.

I slid my hand down Mom's arm and took hold of her hand. I guided it to Dad's cock
and folded her fingers around his shaft, keeping them closed, moving her hand up and
down in time with my thrusts in her ass. I let go and Mom's hand kept jacking Dad
off. I let her fall forward and began fucking her ass in earnest.

I was surprised by how much it got me off to have Mom manipulate my father that way.
Was I kinky? I don't know but it excited me a lot and it wasn't long before I was
ready to go. I wanted to really let loose so I lifted Mom up, sliding my hand up under
her tits, twisted her around, and pushed her onto her side of the bed. I kept her
ass up high and slid my hands down her back, one grasping the hair at the back of
her head and the other sliding around to her throat.

Shit her throat was all gooey. Dad must have come all over her neck, and maybe her
face. Christ, he let go fast. I felt disgusted and excited at the same time. I started
ramming into Mom's ass, a picture of my father's cock erupting all over the pristine
skin of her neck and face, driving me over the edge.

"Aaaahhhhhhrrrrrrrrgggg."

What an awesome experience. As I carefully wiped Mom with a warm washcloth, I promised
to treat myself to some ass the next night too.

* * *

I slept in. I was up pretty late the night before. Evidently, Mom had slept in too.
Nothing much happened on Sunday so I won't bore you with the details. Except for one
incident.

Mom wandered into the kitchen while I was still eating the breakfast I had made for
myself, a rather poor affair compared to the fare Mom usually provided on weekends.
Dad was outside working in the yard. Mom shuffled straight to the coffee pot where
she managed to pour herself a mug. She spilled a little and, contrary to her usual
fussiness, ignored it. Mom didn't even put cream in her coffee. She set her mug on
the table but before sitting down, she changed her mind and shuffled to the sink to
get a cloth to wipe up the spilled coffee. As she did, she rubbed her behind with
her free hand.

"Eric. Are you sure those bruises are gone? I'm feeling a little sore back there this
morning."

I sprung to my feet and quickly got behind Mom, lifting her robe up.

"Not too far. I haven't got dressed yet," Mom cautioned as she slowly wiped the counter.


"Ok Mom," I replied, my voice betraying the excitement her cautionary note produced,
hinting that she wasn't wearing anything under her robe but possibly a pair of panties.
I lifted her robe high anyway so I could see her panties. Luck of luck. I was immediately
privy to Mom's bare ass. True enough, it was a bit flushed, kind of rosy all around
the bottom. I couldn't help smiling as a feeling of immense satisfaction welled up
inside me.

"Are they still there?" Mom asked, worried.

"Uh, no. Not really."

"What do you mean, 'not really'?" Mom asked. She stopped wiping the counter.

"Well, they're gone, but..."

"But what?" the level of concern heightened.

"There's an inflamed area higher up...on your, uh, bottom."

"On my bottom?"

"Yeah."

"What were you doing looking up there?"

"It was an accident. I didn't mean to pull your robe up, but lucky I did because you
have a big red mark on your bum."

"Where?"

"Here," I showed Mom by touching the bottom swells of each cheek, tracing my finger
around the edges and then letting it rest lightly along the bottom arc of her crack.
"Centered all around here," I said.

"Oh dear," Mom sighed. "I wonder what that's from? Put my robe down, Eric. Your father
would really wonder about us if he saw you looking at my bare backside."

"I was just trying to help," I replied, reluctantly letting Mom's robe fall.

Mom turned around to face me.

"I know, sweetie," she said, cupping my face in her hand and stretching up to give
me a light kiss on the mouth.

"That's all the thanks I get?"

Mom stretched up again to give me another hug and kiss. I put my hands on her shoulders
and held her there, stretching what was probably meant to be something just a bit
longer than a peck into a kiss almost half a minute long.

"Oh, you don't kiss like a little boy anymore." Mom seemed surprised.

"Are you saying you don't want to kiss your own son?"

"No," Mom seemed flustered. "It's just that it feels different, that's all."

"I should hope so," I replied.

"Eric, I hope I haven't given you the wrong impression."

"What impression?" I was enjoying this awkwardness from my normally in-command mother.


"You know. Asking you to look at my bruises for me. I would have asked your father
if we were getting along better." What she really meant was she didn't want to encourage
him. "I guess I shouldn't be doing my nails in the living room either."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Well, it shows so much of my legs."

"You have really nice legs, Mom." She blushed.

"Well, uh, thank you, but that's not the point."

"What's the point?"

"Oh, I'm not up to this," exasperation crept into Mom's voice. "Just don't get the
wrong idea, that's all."

"I won't Mom. I love you and I'm proud of the way you look." A little flattery couldn't
hurt, especially when it was true and well-deserved, given all her efforts.

I got Mom by herself several times that day and managed to kiss her each time. She
seemed flustered each time but didn't stop me and each one was a little longer than
the last.

"You're just trying to bug me," she cried, trying to fend me off the third time. "You're
making fun of me now."

I denied it, but not convincingly. If she wanted to think I was playing a game, that
was all right with me. As long as she let me kiss her. The game thing had an added
benefit. Mom's reaction changed from being flustered to being playful which was quite
exciting. She was treating me like a playmate instead of her kid. It was a revelation
for me. Being with a woman in a playful mood was a whole lot of fun.

I guess I found an excuse to kiss Mom more than several times.

* * *

Sunday night, I was in Mom's ass again. However, after the fun and games of the afternoon,
the feigned chases and giggling struggles as soon as Dad left the room, I needed more
than Mom's docile submission.

As I casually pumped my cock in Mom's ass, Dad scared the shit out of me when he turned
over onto his back. I nearly jumped out of my skin and I did pull out of Mom with
an audible pop and disappointed moan from Mom. Of course, my eyes and ears, my whole
attention, was on my father, so it didn't take more than a few seconds for one startling
observation to filter into my brain.

Dad, who was sleeping naked, was sporting a big boner again, making a tent of the
sheet covering him from the waist down. As soon as I was sure he was still sleeping
heavily under the influence of the pills, I reached over and pulled the sheet off.


Yup, there it was. Standing proud and free. I laughed out loud. He must really be
needing to get back together with Mom. I felt sorry for him and wondered if I could
help him out by getting Mom's mouth or hand onto him again. As I contemplated that,
perverse idea number three popped full-fledge into my fun-starved mind—not that what
I was doing wasn't fun, it just wasn't as fun as it could be.

I lifted Mom up onto her knees, cupping her tits to hold her against me. As before,
I twisted her toward Dad but instead of flopping her over Dad, I lifted her left leg
and straddled her over his legs. I pushed on Mom's back and allowed her to fall gently
forward onto his chest. Grasping her by the hips, I lifted her right up and, after
a few minor adjustments, managed to get her centered on the tip of my father's hard
cock. With boyish mischief, I pulled back on Mom's hips, watching with devilish joy
as my father's cock first bent, then gathered strength and slid forcefully into Mom's
cunt.

Back in the saddle again, I sang out loud.

Mom was planning on letting Dad back on her good side? Well, I had let him back INSIDE.
He would never know the debt he owed me.

Now what to do? Dad was embedded in Mom and, though that was fun, any action was dependent
on me moving her hips around which I soon tired of. What to do?

Ahhh, of course. To make room, I pushed Mom's feet further forward so her knees were
beside Dad's hips and then straddled his legs myself. Fitting tightly behind Mom,
I aimed my cock at my favorite target. Carefully, though I was so excited I found
this hard to do, I pushed into Mom's dreamy butt. Once inside, I grabbed Dad's hands
and pulled his arms up and around Mom's back but they fell limply to the bed as soon
as I let go. I shrugged and began to loosen Mom's ass with slow, steady shoves.

It was odd that Dad was so dead to the world that his arms wouldn't stay around Mom
yet he could produce a hard cock. I guess it took concerted effort to hold onto something
but getting and maintaining an erection consumed no brain power, that, or a man's
dick really did have a mind of its own. Maybe Mom reacting to my thrusts was similarly
automatic but if Dad couldn't automatically control his arms, why could Mom's hand
keep wanking Dad? Go figure.

It wasn't long before I was humping Mom's butt with a regular beat. It felt quite
different this way. In addition to the smug thrill I extracted from using my parents
like puppets, I could feel my father's cock as Mom's cunt responded to my thrusts,
moving back and forth along the length of his shaft. This was fucking incredible.
Unbeknownst to my sleep-drugged father, he and I were DPing my doped up mother. Fanfuckingtastic!
I was definitely going to do this again.

* * *

The next few weeks were a blur of fucking Mom—a mix of doggy, ass fucking and a couple
more DPs—and thinking about it all day while working at my crappy summer job. Except
two more times where Mom must have mistakenly dissolved a sleeping pill in my hot
chocolate. I woke up feeling very weary both times. I don't know why people take sleeping
pills. They may make you sleep but you don't feel rested, that's for sure.

Dad was getting more and more antsy and it wasn't helped by Mom doing her nails at
least twice a week. She continued to swivel her legs up onto the couch, opened my
way, and seemed to stroke the underside of her thighs more erotically than before.
Maybe my kissing was paying off. Maybe she liked it and she was rewarding me. Her
eyes never made contact with mine when she did this but I'm certain she was aware
of my rapt attention. She got it especially hard and more than once a night when she
did that.

It was the end of the week, Friday night, that Mom said she'd made a special pie for
me. In the kitchen, she handed me a large glass of iced tea and a huge slice of cake.


"Take that out to your father, I want to talk to you undisturbed."

I did as Mom asked and quickly returned. There were two plates of warm apple pie covered
in French Vanilla ice cream, my favorite, on the counter beside Mom. I started to
sit down at the table near the doorway but Mom beckoned.

"Come over here," she waved.

I joined her and took the plate she handed me. Strangely, she didn't speak. We ate
our treat in silence. At first I was uncomfortable because Mom kept gazing at me.
Had she realized the boxers on her bedroom floor were mine? Is that what she wanted
to talk to me about?

Mom maintained her silence and my unease passed as I realized that her look contained
no anger but was more soft and loving than usual. Ridiculously, I began to swell in
my pants and my nervousness returned. I couldn't cover myself. I turned away, then
realized that would profile my bulge so I turned back to face her.

I finished first but Mom kept her silence, seeming to put each spoonful into her mouth
more slowly, if anything. Her motions seemed more than sensual, almost sexual. Something
about the way she paused with the spoon just inside her mouth, sliding her tongue
slowly underneath and sucking the pie and ice cream in. When she finished she put
her plate down very deliberately.

"I'm going to bring your father back into the fold tomorrow."

My heart, and more, sank. "Really? Already?" was all I could muster.

"Yes. I think he's suffered enough." Mom's eyes searched mine.

"You don't seem overly happy," Mom observed. "Are you angry at him too?"

"I guess so," I mumbled. No, I wanted to shout. How am I going to keep fucking you
if you're not taking sleeping pills? This was an unmitigated disaster. One I knew
was coming but now that it was here, I was totally unprepared to handle it.

"Oh, sweetie."

Mom stretched up to kiss my cheek, then, I guess figuring that wasn't sufficient comfort,
brushed her lips on mine and then kissed me.

"Everyone makes mistakes, honey. It's time to forgive your father."

She kissed me again, and when I remained silent, followed with a succession of small
kisses, each longer and more firmly planted than the last.

"Do you forgive him?"

"I guess so." I shuffled my feet.

"I know I've leaned on you this summer. I guess I needed you to fill some of the void,
but I'll still love you just as much."

Mom had no idea how much I had filled her void. I smiled at the thought which Mom
took as agreement on my part.

"That's my boy," she smiled, then planted a big kiss on my lips. I kissed her back
and put my arms around her, managing to brush the sides of her tits as I did.

When she settled back on her feet, Mom beamed up at me.

"I know you like to kiss me like a grownup, sweetie. I'll let you do it more often
if that makes you feel better," her eyes questioned mine.

I nodded and a pleased smile spread across my face.

"You'd like that?"

I nodded more vigorously.

"Give me a big kiss then."

Mom's arms slipped around my neck and she pushed herself up onto her toes. I squeezed
her to me, mashing her tits against my chest. I relaxed when I realized she was going
to make this a long one and was surprised when the tip of her tongue slid sideways
across my closed lips. I did the same to hers, then tentatively, even fearfully, I
tried to push between her lips. Mom didn't let me in but her hand slid up to the back
of my neck and her fingers toyed with my hair, then pressed me closer. I slid my tongue
across her lips again and tried again to enter her mouth. Briefly, for just an instant,
Mom's lips parted and my tongue slipped into her mouth, then Mom broke the kiss. I
was breathing hard. She pulled away, a satisfied smile adorning her face, glanced
quickly down and then took my hands into hers. I realized then my cock was very hard.


"Would you like to check my legs for bruises on a regular basis?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'd really like that." My eyes trailed slowly down her body. Mom dropped
my hands and pulled her skirt up half a foot. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"All right then," she said, dropping her skirt. "I'll go tell your father the good
news."

"Mom, wait."

"What?"

"Why don't you tell him tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Why?"

"It's Saturday."

"What's so special about Saturday."

"Saturday night is for...romance. Anyway, you might want to have more time to make
it extra special, maybe get a new nightie or something."

"Oh, sweetie. That's so romantic. One day you're going to make some woman, another
woman, very happy."

"I just want you to be happy, Mom." Yeah, and I wanted one last chance to make her
especially happy.

Mom gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll give you a nice big kiss later," she
promised. She turned to leave.

"Mom?"

She turned back to face me, half way to the door, wearing a quizzical expression.


"Why don't you save that kiss for tomorrow," I suggested in a lowered voice. "You
guys should take sleeping pills tonight. It would make tomorrow less special if something
happened tonight."

"Ok, dear. That's a good idea."

"You still have some don't you?" I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice.

Mom smiled, an especially pleased smile. "Don't worry. I have enough for one last
heavy sleep."

Mom bounced out of the kitchen. I stayed, thinking about what had just happened and
what I wanted to do most tonight, probably the last time I would get my mom.

She returned a minute later with Dad's empty plate and his glass which was half full.
She seemed annoyed.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Your father's being difficult. He doesn't want to take the pills. I won't get any
rest tonight."

Shit. The thought of not getting Mom one last time was enough to make me want to shove
the pill down Dad's throat. I looked at the pills Mom had thrown on the counter beside
the empty plates and the half-full glass of ice tea.

"Marina," Dad's voice intruded in the tense kitchen air, "I wasn't finished my drink."


Mom looked at me. "Can you take it to him? I need to settle down."

I picked up the pills.

"No, don't say anything to him. You know how stubborn he is. He'll just get mad at
you."

I smiled. "I won't," I said. I passed my hand over Dad's drink and dropped the pills.
I looked at Mom as she watched the pills slowly spiral down, fizzing as they settled
to the bottom of the glass.

"Babe. Can I have my drink back?" Dad yelled.

"Just a minute. I'll be right there," Mom called back. She opened the cutlery drawer
and pulled out a spoon. The mischievous smile returned and she looked in my eyes as
she began stirring Dad's ice tea. "I'll take it in to him," she said.

"Give him a kiss when you do," I suggested.

One corner of her mouth turned up higher than the other. She looked so cute with that
bratty smile.

"I will," she said.

I couldn't help it. I leaned forward and kissed her crooked mouth. Just a short one
but when I finished I slid my tongue across her lips.

"You still owe me a nice one," I reminded her.

"It's in the bank," Mom replied. "And an extra special one, for this," she nodded
at the glass.

Mom walked away in a slower gait than usual, the sway of her hips more exaggerated
than usual. I watched her ass as she walked into the living room holding Dad's drink
in front of her. "Here it is sweetheart."

And here it comes, Mom. I was going to do everything tonight, a real marathon.

* * *

I crept down the dark hall listening intently. I hadn't heard a sound for the last
ten minutes and was eager to get in and get started on Mom. My boner was incredibly
hard. I stopped by my parents' door which was uncharacteristically closed. Not shut
tight, but cracked open only an inch.

Ahhhhh, there it was, my father's wheezing breath. Relief swept through me and tension
drained through my legs and out. But I couldn't hear Mom. Cautiously, I pushed the
door and cringed when it creaked. I couldn't see but I daren't turn the light on until
I knew Mom was sleeping. Had she taken her pills?

I walked stealthily to Mom's side of the bed and stood, craning my head to catch the
faint sound of her breathing. Thank god. She was breathing long and deep, but quietly.
I put my knee on the bed and eased my weight on, ready to bolt if I was wrong. Mom's
breathing didn't change. I swung my other leg onto the bed. Shit. I forgot to go back
and turn on the light. I was too eager to go back now. After the first fuck. Then
back for more. I reached out in the darkness to find Mom's legs so I could straddle
them and lift her hips. I needed to get my cock in her right away.

Something was different. She was on her back. I felt a thrill course through me. Great.
I hadn't had her that way yet. I reached higher and felt for her tits. Yes. Awesome.
I could suck her tits while I fucked her. I squeezed her nipples. They were already
hard. Was she like Dad? Was she dreaming of what she was going to do tomorrow after
such a long abstention? Well, at least as far as she knew, she had being going without.


I slid my hands down Mom's pouting belly. Shit, and shit again. She was wearing panties.
Why? She'd always been naked before. Was she worried about Dad waking up? Whatever.
Nothing was going to stop me tonight. I hooked my fingers under the waistband of the
panties and slipped them, with some difficulty, down her legs and tossed them to the
floor. Remember to put them back on, I made a mental note to myself.

I pushed Mom's legs open wide, slipped my hands under her knees and lifted her thighs
up. My cock was already poking around, trying to find her entrance. There, my tip
found her slit and my head slipped inside. So hot. I shoved, sliding my hands down
her thighs to her hips so I could pull her up. I buried myself as deep in her as I
could, then leaned forward and searched for her tits with my mouth. I filled my mouth
with nipple and began to suck and fuck at the same time, squeezing her nipple against
the roof of my mouth on the inward thrust, sucking on the way out. Through the gates
of heaven again.

I was surprised but thrilled when Mom's legs curled around and locked behind my thighs
with her heels digging into my buttocks. I loved the automaticity of her body. She
felt alive, and tighter too. I lunged into her, wanting to reward at least her body
even though she was sleeping. I was surprised again when Mom's arms curled around
my neck, holding me tight, and thrilled when her pelvis started pushing up to meet
me. And that's when the real shock came. Mom's mouth pressed against my ear.

"Stealing a little more than a kiss?" her harsh whisper speared into my head.

Legs clamped tighter, heels dug deeper, and arms closed like a vice around my neck;
I was in a full-body grip.

"WHAT?" I cried.

A warm, wet tongue swirled around my ear, then dug inside. Mom's pussy squeezed tight
and pulled hard. A throaty laugh enveloped my head.

"Did you really think I was asleep?"

"Mom? Uh..."

"Don't stop. Keep moving."

"Mom, I, uh...I..."

"I said don't stop. That's it, keep moving."

"Mom..."

"Shhhhh, don't talk." Mom's pelvis lunged upward, matching the extra dig of her heels
in my back as she pushed her cunt tightly over my cock. "Just fuck," she urged.

Mom's pussy was moving, doing things I'd never felt before; I couldn't have stayed
still if I tried. Her arms loosened and she turned my head toward her, covered my
mouth with hers, and slithered her warm tongue inside me. She moaned, galvanizing
me into action.

My hands molded around her tits and my thumbs and fingers found her stiff nipples.
I hunched my hips to increase the depth of each thrust, striving to convince her how
eager I was to follow her instructions, to please her, like I did as a chid when she
caught me doing something bad.

"Oh yeah. Like that, like that," Mom gasped.

My mind was in turmoil. How long had Mom known? She must have known for a while because
she wasn't surprised. Clearly, she wanted more, and better, she seemed to love it.
I clung tight. We writhed on the bed next to my sleeping father, straining hard to
get closer and closer, striving to be one.

It was my turn to fill her mouth with tongue. It wasn't a long kiss, because soon
after I started, I began spurting into her other mouth, the one chewing on my cock.
Mom's hips started bucking even more wildly on the first gush and she didn't stop
her frenetic tossing until I was fully drained.

We were still. Mom didn't even complain about my weight sagging on her sweaty body.
When I could, I spoke.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the beginning."

Oh, jeez. "What about Dad?" What did I mean by that? I had no idea. It just popped
out.

"He's forfeited his rights."

That degradation of Dad's status sent a thrilling zing through my exhausted body.


"I know he cheated on you, but I thought you'd forgiven him." Perhaps, feeling a little
insecure, I needed additional assurance or maybe I just wanted to prolong my victory.


"I never said that. I said I'd take him back."

"I don't get it."

"In six months, he's proven that he wants to come home, so I'll let him, but its not
going to be the same. He's get's it once a week, maybe, and no treats on special occasions."


"What if he strays?"

"Then he's done."

"Can you keep it up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can you go without?"

"Eric!" Mom exclaimed. "Were you listening to us?"

I managed to sound guilty and sheepish in a single word. "Yes."

I was glad there wasn't enough light for Mom to see me blush.

"I can resist your father now."

"Are you sure?"

"I have you," Mom chuckled, wiggling her hips. "And I see your interest won't wane
soon."

I groaned. Mom could do amazing things down there.

"Just so you know, it was hard for me. I realized I had let myself go so I worked
hard to fix that. I wanted your father to look at me that same old way. Then I noticed
other men looking at me a lot and I realized that hadn't happened for a long time.
Even young men looked me over, and that made me feel good. My anger at your father
came back, and I wasn't so concerned anymore about what he thought, and that surprised
me."

Mom paused for breath.

"Then you came home and I knew you were looking at me differently. I could feel your
eyes on me, eyes that were looking at the woman those other young men were seeing,
and not your mother."

"Mom, I ..."

"Shhhhhhh. Let me finish. I liked it. It was a strange feeling, that first time on
the way home from the airport. I didnt' expect it from you but I liked it and that
scared me, but I couldn't help myself and I started showing off my legs. What could
a little teasing hurt, especially if you liked it and it made me feel good. Things
just got out of hand, that's all."

"I couldn't help it, Mom. You just looked so beautiful, so sexy. I felt like there
was something wrong with me but I couldn't stop looking at you. I wanted you," I admitted.


"So we like each other and we've both found out that we have a similar nature, a weakness
for the wild side. I couldn't believe what you did, and how much I loved it. That
convinced me that your father still had a role to play in our family and that's when
I made my decision to take him back. And now we've gone too far to go back."

I agreed.

"I don't want to go back," Mom said.

"Neither do I."

"So all the treats are for you now. Do you want one?" Mom moved her pussy which had
been idle through our discussion.

"A treat? What kind of treat?" I asked.

"Well, you did that dirty thing from behind," Mom answered. "You know," she went on
as an aside, "I've never done that before. Your father wanted to but I never let him."


"You'll have to turn over," I panted. Knowing Mom hadn't let Dad in her ass made me
suddenly short of breath. She resisted my effort to turn her over.

"I was thinking of something different."

"You want to get on top of Dad first?" Did she like DP best?

Mom laughed. "Now, you really liked that, didn't you?"

Actually, I was happy the way things were going. We were moving together nicely now
and this was enough of a treat. Mom, in live mode.

"Yeah. It was kind of wild."

"We can't do it that way anyhow."

"Oh. So you didn't like it."

"I didn't say that," Mom replied. "I meant we can't do it tonight. Actually, I like
the feel of you in there. It shocked me, what you did, but using your father like
that really got me off. I'd like to do it again."

"How about after this one?"

Mom laughed out loud. "You think you can do it all night?"

"Yes," I panted. I was gearing up fine now. "That was my plan for tonight."

"So you really did think it was over. I'll tell you what. I'll give you a different
treat tonight. Like I said, we can't do that other one tonight anyway."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't give him any Viagra tonight."

"That's why he was hard?"

"Yes," Mom laughed hard, interrupted by little gasps as my cock made its point. "He
isn't superman."

I didn't answer, concentrating instead on exploring Mom's cunt. By the way, that wasn't
a dirty word to me anymore. In reference to my mom's, it was a magical word.

"But you're a bit of a superman," Mom gasped. That felt good and I tried even harder
to make her gasp again but Mom succeeded first.

"You know that night when your father made a mess on my neck...and my face?"

"Yeah," I grunted, really getting into it now.

"And you cleaned me up?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like to wash my face again?"

"Uh, sure." What was she asking. Did she want me to get Dad to do that again? How
would that work if she hadn't given him Viagra?

"You better bring it up here when you're ready to finish and make a mess then."

That was an offer I couldn't refuse. Mom pushed my chest away from her and worked
her legs in front, her ankles closing and hooking behind my neck.

"Lean forward and really hump me," she whispered. As I started, she added, "Remember
to pull out and slide up."

Four minutes later, I sprayed all over Mom's face. I wouldn't have believed that would
feel so hot but it was really thrilling. Strange. I got cloth and washed Mom's face
very carefully but when I returned with a towel to dry her face, she was leaning over
Dad.

"Last one tonight, honey. I have to get my beauty sleep if I'm going to make up with
hubby tomorrow night."

* * *

I slept late the next morning. So did Mom. By mid-afternoon, Dad was in a very good
mood. Somehow, he seemed to know that tonight he was being released from purgatory.
Mom made a nice dinner and brought out a special bottle of wine, one that seemed to
make Dad really happy. I think it was a signal Mom used when she wanted to 'get it'.


"Can you slip out to get another bottle of wine, dear? Eric is going out tonight."


Dad couldn't wait to get out the door. His evening was assured.

"I'm going out?" I asked Mom after Dad left.

"Yes, just for a little while. I want to get this over early."

"But Dad won't want it to be over early."

"He won't have a choice. He'll be sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"Yes. He'll have something extra in his wine. He can't do it more than once now anyway.
He doesn't need a lot of time."

"What time should I come back?"

"As soon as you see the downstairs lights go out."

"Shouldn't I wait until later?"

"No. I want you to listen to us."

"Mom," I complained.

"Trust me," Mom said. "It will make you extra ready." As it turned out, she was quite
right about that.

"Should I wait until you come?"

"Come?" Mom laughed.

"You know what I mean."

"No. You come to my room. We'll need your father if you want your dirty treat on his
special night." Mom smiled at my reaction. "I'm going to put more than a sleeping
pill in his wine."

"Did you put a sleeping pill in my hot chocolate once?" I was now suspicious about
those times I fell asleep, ruining my plans, and waking up groggy.

"No."

"Mom," I pressed her, disbelieving.

"Not once. Several times."

The thought of Mom putting me out so she could use me made my cock harden in my summer
shorts. Mom noticed.

"Did you put anything else in it?"

"No," Mom's smile morphed into a grin and she looked directly at my shorts. "You don't
need it."

Mom turned and leaned over the counter, pulling her skirt up.

"I think I have a bruise, sweetie. Can you take a quick look, maybe poke it gently
to see if it's sore?"

I advanced toward her, pushing my shorts down. My hard cock leaping out of my pants.


"You'll have to be quick. Your father will be home soon."

I fingered Mom's panties aside and pushed up into her already wet pussy.

"By the way," Mom panted, "I've never had my tubes tied."

God, she knew how to make me hard. I grabbed her tits and started lunging against
her bum.

"That's it. Do it hard," she gasped. "Make me rosy."

After we finished, Mom reminded me to come back in when the lights went out.

"I'm going to have a shower," she said. "He should be asleep by the time I'm done
my duty fuck. No, scratch that" she mused, "sympathy fuck."

After a thoughtful pause, Mom's eyes took on a wild glint and she added, "I don't
think I'll have a shower right now. I want your spunk inside me when I take your father
back. There, that's him in the driveway. Remember now, sneak back in to listen."

I don't know for certain what my Dad thought about his indiscretion but I'm sure he
wished it never happened and that he had never hurt Mom even though, after a long
six months, it was over and he was about to enjoy makeup sex. Dad might think things
were getting back to normal, but he couldn't be more wrong. He may have understood
they wouldn't be quite the way they were but in time they would get as close as they
could be. In his mind, he had 'won her back' with hard work and dedication. They would
be reconciled.

I thank God for his indiscretion because without it Mom wouldn't be accompanying me
on a journey in the opposite direcction. I have learned never to spurn a woman, and
if I ever do, to understand that her trust, once lost, can never be fully regained,
nor can her true love. That's just the way it is. Things are not always what they
seem to be.

I experienced my own form of makeup sex. You just wouldn't believe how hard Mom works
to make me feel good after being with Dad, and how hard I try to prove to her that
she has chosen the better man. Strange that my cheating father still plays a pivotal
role in our family.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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