URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20130807080250/http://www.literotica.com/s/the-rambler-ch-03
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: The Rambler Ch. 03
Tags: The Rambler Ch. 03, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, mother, son sex, mother/son, son, incest anal, anal mother, milf sex, milf

Summary: After school and beyond with moms.

Copyright © 2009, alwayswantedto. All Rights Reserved.

All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older.

* * * * * * *

I wish I could say I had free access to Mom after that but I can't. There were a variety
of reasons, I guess. First off, getting banned from the drive-in, though not a big
deal in and of itself, was a very close call with shameful isolation in our community.
While Tim and I didn't fully appreciate the significance of such a calamity, our mothers
certainly did. Both of them were aloof in the following weeks.

While I don't think either of our mothers were suffering from remorse they were nevertheless
more cautious, making the next week at home a sexual drought for us. There was no
sexual interplay while doing the dishes at home and Tim reported the same was true
at his house. Mom even started lobbying Dad, without success, for one of those new-fangled
dishwashers. Thank god there was no place to put one in our kitchen unless the counter
with the stools was removed, something Dad wasn't about to do. Still, I interpreted
this a not-so-hidden message from Mom.

A trip to the drive-in was out of the question, given our banning, and there was no
way we could go to the one in our town where friends of our parents might be encountered.
So, if we couldn't do anything at home, what could we do? Tim suggested going to the
next town west of us but he said his mom was cool to the idea when he mentioned it.


School Grad superseded our sex woes and Tim and I were swept in the enthusiasm for
a drunken party out in the sticks. Despite our fame, neither of us had dates. At first,
everyone thought we'd been dumped and didn't want to associated with second-rate stuff,
and after that they assumed we'd be going with our college girls. We both actually
did ask a couple of girls, who were already committed by the way, foolishly saying
the college girls didn't want to go to a high school thing. We discovered that no
girl wants to play second fiddle. Duh.

Stuck without dates, both of us got hammered at Aftergrad. We went in Tim's car because
Mom refused to let me take the Rambler. Just as well, since we were too drunk to get
anywhere with the girls that showed up at the party, not that we didn't try, and we
both got sick while passed out/sleeping in the car. It took me most of the next week
for my head to stop throbbing with Dad harping at me all along about getting a summer
job to save money for college. Mom was silent on the issue.

So it was late on a sunny, Thursday morning when I shuffled into the kitchen to catch
Mom filling the sink and just starting the breakfast dishes. I stood in the kitchen
doorway, yawning and scratching my ass, appreciating the way the sunlight streaming
through the kitchen window washed over Mom's form. The tent in my pajamas didn't jump
into existence instantaneously, it lurched into being as my lower brain awoke from
its slumber more quickly than the cortex that supposedly controlled my behavior.

Mom was wearing a knee-length, white knit dress protected by an apron. I could tell
she was wearing a bra by the muted expression of her breasts but the thrust of her
bottom was impossible to camouflage regardless of what device she used to constrain
her cheeks. Her legs, already starting to tan, were shaped in perfect feminine contours,
sleek without looking muscular. Her right ankle was adorned by a very fine gold bracelet,
attesting to her advanced sense of fashion for the times.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Mom greeted me. "Or, should I say afternoon." She glanced
at the clock and added, "Almost."

I shuffled across the floor, snagging the dish towel draped over the oven handle,
and turned to stand behind Mom, waiting for her to wash the first dish. I held back
until she began, conscious of her reserved demeanor over the past few weeks. When
she set the first glass in the rack, I stepped forward to retrieve it, wrapping it
in the towel using both hands while I allowed my pajama tent to press lightly against
the rough material of her knit dress.

Mom didn't say anything until she placed the second glass in the rack while I was
still drying the first. She sighed.

"We really can't continue this, Ricky."

Her hands were still, hidden in the sudsy sink. I leaned closer to her, flattening
the top of my boner against her skirted bottom.

"Why not?" I asked, adding a nearly imperceptible twist to lock my bending member
into her rear end groove. Her breath caught for an instant before she spoke again.


"Because we just can't, that's why."

I didn't reply, instead giving my tingling cock a slightly more affirmative rock in
her bottomly notch.

"We almost got caught," Mom cried out. "Can you imagine what would have happened,
how that would have spread around town?" Her voice was close to tears as her head
hung down toward the sink.

Unmoved, I continued to rock my cock deeper in her crack while she hunched over the
sink.

"And your father could have walked into this kitchen any time," she said, expressing
a fear I didn't share. "You know what would have happened then."

"He isn't here," I said, applying a slight forward thrust to emphasize my point.

"Oh, Ricky," Mom said, exasperated, realizing she was talking to a teenage boy with
a raging libido.

I put the towel, still wrapped around the glass, in the rack. Hands free, I grasped
her waist and pushed my cock more firmly into the soft flesh of her ass.

"Ricky stop." Then she provided justification as if she needed to have a reason, "You'll
crease my dress and I have to go out."

Mom's voice was denying me but her hands skidded forward in the sink to counter my
forward pressure, causing her behind to push harder against me as she bent over the
sink. My hands slipped down to her hips and I pulled, burying my hard cock deeper
in her dress.

"Ricky, really. I have to go out," Mom protested louder but still offered no physical
resistance.

Using my fingers, I scratched at Mom's hips, inching her dress higher, and increased
the pressure from my own hips which were now rutting rhythmically into her behind.
An enormous thrill coursed through me as I sensed that I could soon be inside my mother's
wonderful pussy again. I loved the way her head bounced toward the window with each
thrust and the way she seemed resigned to take it.

"Oh, God, Ricky," Mom gasped as her dress skimmed to the top of her buttocks and my
pajama-covered cock pressed into her panties. "Can't you stop?"

"No," I rasped, leaning forward even more, pushing her well over the sink and trapping
her dress above her hips so I could free my hands to pull her panties down.

Mom used her head to swing the tap sideways out of the way as my frantic hands yanked
her panties down to her knees. My pajamas followed suit as Mom lifted her soapy hands
to brace herself against the edge of the sink in the nick of time as my eager cock
started nudging between her legs, searching for nirvana.

I must have missed the mark ten times but finally, with a helpful tippy-toe rise from
Mom, I slid inside, instantly forgiving her for the recent drought as I reveled in
the oozy slickness of her gripping, womanly channel.

"Ohhhhhhh, yesssss!"

Mom's clear delight belied her earlier protest and weeks of feigned disinterest. I
knew from her sighs and the way she squeezed my cock that she wanted it as much as
I and from now on, no matter what she said or how she acted, I was going to give it
to her. I shoved in hard with manly, primal satisfaction, causing Mom's hands to slip
and a small tidal wave of sudsy water to surge over the back of the sink and then
return to wash over and onto the floor.

"Unnnnnnghhhhh," Mom cried, followed by "ugh ugh unnnghhh," to several urgent follow-up
thrusts.

I wish I could say I was thoughtful and gentle but I wasn't. Mom's reaction spurred
even harsher lunges that almost lifted her from the floor. My only nod to gallantry,
if it could be described as such, was to take a handful of Mom's hair to lift her
head away from potential damage on the tap. After that I lost control, as my hips
launched a rapid and sustained series of thrusts, each more desperate than the last.


"AAAHHHHHHHagggghhhhhhh," I screamed as my balls boiled over, shooting a searing stream
of frothy cum inside my mother, releasing weeks of pent up sperm in a huge pressure
burst, the muscles in my thighs straining to the breaking point as I stood rigid,
cheeks flinching as I bulged my cock, the better to empty my seed within her.

Exhausted, I stepped away, my trembling legs unable to hold me, slipping to the floor
in an awkward slump, my arms swinging behind to stop me from falling flat on my back.
Gasping for breath, I looked up at my mother, dress now fallen into place, panties
stretched across her legs just above her knees. My eyes traced down Mom's shaking
legs to fixate on the delicate gold, bracelet lying broken on the floor beside her
feet, my fogged brain reconstructing its demise as a toe snagged it by accident in
an effort to digger deeper inside my mom.

I was still breathing heavily, leaning back on one hand, when Mom quietly stepped
back from the sink and, without looking at me, walked away, slowing but not stopping
as she reached down with one hand to tug her panties up, her briefly raised exposing
a trickle of my cum running down the inside of her left leg. She was gone.

A few minutes later I heard the front door close and just caught sight of Mom getting
into the Rambler. She had changed her clothes. I guess the white knit dress had gotten
wet.

I called Tim to find out what he was up to. We made plans for him to come and pick
me up. Nothing more detailed than that, just to drive around and kill some time. Maybe
go to the lake. Just before he was about to hang up, I told him what had just happened.


"I just fucked Mom," I burst out, in the middle of his sentence, unable to conceal
the excited pride in my voice.

"When?" he asked.

"Just now, in the kitchen."

"You're kidding," he said.

"No. By the sink. She got her dress all wet," I added, as if that was an important
detail to mention.

"Wow. So did I," Tim said.

"This morning?"

"Last night," he replied. "I'll tell you about it." He hung up.

Driving down the sunny country road, listening to Simon & Garfunkel's Bridge Over
Troubled Water, Tim told me about his incestuous reunion with his mother in their
own kitchen the previous evening. Like me, he hadn't been treated to the same nightly
treats that had heralded our second drive-in adventure. Thus, my friend had built
up an enormous sperm attack craving for release.

"It was the skirt that did it," Tim said, finally letting me in on what had happened,
now that we were safely ten miles out of town.

"The skirt?" I said, leaning forward to turn the sound down, afraid of missing any
part of the story.

"Yeah, the skirt."

Tim turned to look at me as I sat back in the seat, a broad grin on his face. Thankfully,
he looked back and kept his eyes on the road as he told me what had happened, sometimes
speaking so fast he could barely get his breath and sometimes stopping altogether
until I prompted him for more.

"It was just like with you. Mom seemed to be freaked after getting busted at the drive-in.
I don't why. Neither she nor your mom were bothered on the way home, but by the next
day, things had changed. I wasn't too bummed out until later in the week when it became
clear she wasn't going to play anymore. I was really depressed that night."

Tim turned to look at me again.

"I thought I'd never get to shove it in her face the way you did that first night."
He laughed at the shocked look that must have covered my face. "Yeah, man. After the
first time, Mom told me about you almost climbing over the seat. She was afraid you
were going to choke your mom."

"We didn't think anyone saw," I said.

"Mom did," Tim said. "She said you must have come on her face because you were fidgeting
around so long after. She thought your mom was cleaning up because she saw you grab
some napkins." Tim's prodded me for confirmation. Though I didn't say anything, my
reddening face was answer enough.

"I knew it," he cried, elated, turning back to watch the road.

"Mom thought that was real hot. Her voice got really hoarse when she told me about
it. I knew then she was going to let me do it to her. I was going to trade seats with
you last time but when I got into the car after getting back from the concession,
Mom was already hot to trot."

Tim turned to face me again.

"I don't know how much wine they had before they met up with us but when the movie
started, I put my hand between Mom's legs as soon as I kissed her and she grabbed
me by the wrist and yanked my hand right up."

Tim dropped his right hand from the wheel, between his legs, then yanked it back hard
to cup his crotch.

"Like that," he laughed, thrusting his hips forward into his hand, mimicking how eagerly
his mother had rubbed him that night.

Tim's face muscles slowly relaxed until I couldn't tell what he was thinking about.
His hand lifted to take the wheel again. Then he started speaking.

"It was the pleated skirt," he said, returning to where he had started. "The same
one that started it all."

I nodded, silently urging him on.

"I had stopped helping her with the dishes, you know, not because I didn't want to
but she kept sending me out of the kitchen every time I tried. So I quit."

Tim paused.

"I was watching TV with Dad when she came downstairs. She'd gone upstairs right after
dinner," he explained, "but she came down about half an hour later and went straight
to the kitchen. I thought nothing of it except for this funny look she gave me as
she walked by. It was weird. I was watching the show but I kept thinking about that
look, and one time when I played it over in my head, I realized she was wearing that
same skirt."

Tim laughed again, looking over at me. "Man, I gotta tell ya, that gave me an instant
woodie. I couldn't very well sit next to Dad with a big bone on for Mom, so I got
up and went into the kitchen."

"She was doing the dishes already, but differently than usual. Slower, almost like
she'd been waiting for me to come help and she didn't want to get too far ahead. She
was wearing a summer blouse, the kind with no sleeves and I could tell she wasn't
wearing a bra, the way it jiggled when she scrubbed something. She does that in the
summer sometimes, you know, not wearing a bra. But only at home, and never when Dad's
home," he mused.

Tim shook his head. "Anyway," he said, "I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra, and
she wasn't wearing pantyhose. She was barefoot. No slippers or anything. It was kinda
primal, man."

He certainly had my attention.

"So I walked up behind her, slow like. Something told me not to rush, but I felt more
sure of myself than I had in weeks. I just stood behind her. I didn't even get a dish
towel. I just watched those pleats swishing behind her bum as she scrubbed away. She
turned and smiled at me once but went back to the dishes right away. After a minute,
she asked me what I was doing."

"Nothing," I told her.

"Aren't you going to help?" she asked me.

"No," I said.

"Then what are you doing back there?" she asked me.

"Watching you," I said.

"Watching me?" she asked me.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm watching your skirt."

"Timmy," she said.

"What?"

"Behave yourself," she said. "Your father's in the next room and his show hasn't started
yet."

"She meant he was still watching the news, waiting for his show to start," Tim explained.
"So I didn't do anything, I just kept watching her. She turned around and saw me looking
straight at her bum."

"Timmy, stop it now. The news is almost over. He could come in any minute."

"I kept looking at her and a few minutes later, he did come in. I picked up a towel
as soon as I heard him get up and started drying the dishes. While he was getting
a beer out of the fridge, I put a few clean dishes back into the sink. Mom stopped
and looked at them but she didn't say anything. Dad said he was glad to see me helping
Mom again and went back into the living room. A minute later, I heard his show start."


"It was tense after he left. We both knew he wouldn't come back in while his show
was on but I still didn't do anything. I just kept looking at Mom's bum, and she knew
what I was doing. After a few minutes, I dropped the towel over the dishes in the
rack. I could tell Mom thought I was going to touch her ass because her shoulders
went all tense like she was expecting me to."

"You didn't," I said, thinking that was exactly what he was going to do.

"No," Tim said.

"Then ..."

"I just watched for another minute," he cut me off. "I was going to touch her, but
it felt really cool watching her knowing she was expecting me to, but not doing it.
She was breathing real quiet like, in short breaths, almost like she was scared."


"So you didn't touch her?"

"Not right away," Tim said. "I took my thing out."

"You what," I cried incredulously.

"I undid my jeans and took my cock out," he said, laughing.

"What happened?"

"Nothing at first. She heard me. I could see her head start to turn a bit and then
stop."

"What are you doing, Timmy?"

"Nothing."

"I heard something," she said.

"I'm just looking at your ass," I said.

"Quiet down. Your father's in the living room!" she whispered harshly.

"I know," I answered. "Let me see it."

"What?"

"Your ass."

"She glanced back at me then but quickly looked away."

"Put that away," she hissed.

"Show me."

"No. Do up your pants, right now!"

"Not until you show me."

"She wasn't going to do it," Tim said. "I was standing there, swaying on my feet,
jeans open and zipper down with my cock hanging out. I was starting to feel a little
foolish when Mom's hands lifted out of the sink and reached down outside of her skirt,
one by each thigh."

Tim suddenly swerved off the road, scaring the shit out of me. But he was just pulling
into a pull-off. Not a viewpoint or anything. It was too minor a road for that. He
stopped the car and shut off the engine.

I looked intently into his eyes, waiting.

"She pulled her skirt up real slow," he said, "like she was unveiling something special.
She went so slow I could hear her breathe in and out several times as if we were in
a slow motion movie. She kept pulling until her skirt was sitting on top of her bum."


Tim paused. My eyes were riveted on his face.

"She wasn't wearing anything underneath," he said, his voice still full of awe. "Her
ass was bare, two cheeks hanging down, sloping out like two pears. I remember staring
down her crack, dimly becoming aware that there were no panties covering her, pretty
obvious because there was a tuft of hair sticking out from between her legs."

"What happened?" I gulped.

"She turned around and looked at me. She could tell I was awestruck and I remember
thinking how pleased she was, especially when I whispered how awesome she was, that
her ass was absolutely stupendous. She didn't tell me to quiet down then," Tim laughed.


"What then?" I asked.

"It was her turn to watch," he said. "I grabbed my cock and gave it a full pulls,
then reached out with my left hand and cupped her cheek, pulling it apart a little
so I could see more."

"Remember your father," she whispered. "You better put it away."

"No. Let me touch it first."

"I leaned closer. She tried to pull away but she had nowhere to go. I pushed my head
between her cheeks. She groaned when she felt me, like I did. I almost came when I
heard that."

"Timmy, stop," she whispered frantically. "Your father."

"Shhhhhhh, then," I whispered back. "Be quiet or he'll hear you."

"I was rummaging around with my cock, steering it with my hand, trying to find her
slit. I slipped my left hand around to her belly, under her skirt, to hold her still
but I still couldn't get it in. And then I said the magic words."

"What words?" My eyes and ears were almost off my head trying to pull his story out
of him.

"I said, 'I want to do you from behind the way Rick did his mom.'"

I stared at Tim.

"She went all still and relaxed and my cock was suddenly inside her and I was shoving
it in, all the way, right up into her. It was incredible. I was fucking her right
there in the kitchen. It was insane! Dad was in the living room watching TV and I
was fucking Mom against the sink. I mean, not rubbing her fully clothed. There was
no way I could have jumped back and pretended nothing was going on. My cock was all
the way up her cunt, man."

I just kept staring at Tim. He went on.

"She started making sounds, so put my hand over her mouth and kept banging her. It
was fucking awesome. All of a sudden, I was cumming, jerking into her and spewing
like crazy. Mom slumped over the sink then but I kept holding her. She felt so good,
I kept her ass tight to me, plugged to the hilt inside her, though I was finished."


Tim shook his head.

"It was weird. The clock seemed to be ticking really loud and I could hear the sounds
of Dad's TV show. After few minutes, I realized that Mom's hair was hanging down in
the dishwater. I tried to pull her up but she was like a rag doll, so I pulled her
away from the sink. She just flopped forward and would have fallen to the floor if
I wasn't holding by the hips to keep myself inside her."

"So we stood like that, Mom flopped over, hair hanging down to the floor, and me with
my cock still plugged inside her. I'm not sure when I started, but I realized that
I was no longer just holding Mom up. I was swaying in a circle, with a steady rhythm.
I was starting to fuck her again."

"She just let it happen for awhile but then she must have consciously realized what
I was doing and she tried to pull away but she quickly ran into the cupboards and
I pressed her so the back of her head was against them. She ducked closer to the floor
but I followed, squatting to keep myself deep within her. She couldn't get away, not
with the iron grip I had on her hips."

"I started gouging into her then, really rooting her. My cock felt huge, like it wasn't
mine. I felt like a star in a porn flick wielding a weapon that women couldn't get
enough of, and Mom was the sexiest woman you could ever fuck."

She is, you know," he looked directly at me. "Her pussy has the most fantastic feel
to it," he said, adding a moment later, "Especially from behind."

"We were fucking so hard that Mom's head slid along the cupboards and she ended up
on her knees with me squatting behind her, our backs to the kitchen doorway and the
living room, until I finally unloaded in her again."

"We were just finishing up the dishes when Dad brought his dishes in halfway through
his show. It seemed like I'd been fucking her for hours but it couldn't have been
more than twenty minutes once we got started. And we did it twice at that. The first
one couldn't have taken more than two minutes," he laughed.

We got back on the road after that.

"What a bummer," Tim said.

"What?" I asked, turning the music back up, thinking the opposite, that we were both
back on track.

"Getting kicked out of the drive-in," he said. "What are we going to do now. We can't
keep doing it in the kitchen. We'll get caught."

"Right," I agreed.

"Anyway,' Tim said. "It was more fun together."

"Right," I agreed again.

We drove on. The miles passed, beautiful, sunny countryside.

"We'll go for a drive," I said, suddenly inspired.

"We are on a drive," Tim looked at me like I was on something.

"Exactly," I said. "Sunday. We'll go for a Sunday drive, with our moms."

Tim looked at me, and I knew then what Einstein must have felt like when people looked
at him.

"Right on," Tim agreed enthusiastically, his hand slipping between his legs again.
We both laughed uproariously.

* * * * * * *

That was Thursday. That night, I didn't offer to help Mom with the dishes. After listening
to Tim's story, I was afraid I'd try to lift Mom's skirt and shove it in. No. I needed
to give Mom some distance after what had happened. The next day, I was out all day
looking for another part-time job and I went to the local theater to see a movie.
Saturday, I was the model son, helping out around the yard. Mom and Dad went out to
dinner that night with some friends but I was still up when they got home.

It turned out that Dad was going fishing with some friends early in the morning and
Mom and I would be home alone. She seemed nervous about that but I jumped in and asked
if she wanted to go for a drive with Tim and his mom instead of sitting at home by
ourselves. She couldn't very well argue that in front of Dad. Or maybe Mom thought
going for a drive the lesser of two evils, and agreed. She waited for Dad to go upstairs
first.

"I talked with Millie a few days ago," she said. "There won't be any funny business
anymore, despite what happened Thursday. You just caught me off guard, is all."

"Of course not," I replied cheerily. "When did you talk with Millie?" I asked, as
if it wasn't important.

"Wednesday. Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered if they were still going for a drive," I said.

Sunday morning, Mom had already called Millie and she confirmed that Tim had indeed
suggested going for a drive since the men would be gone fishing all day. They organized
who would make what to take for a picnic lunch and an hour later we went over to Tim's
place to pick he and his mother up. We took the Rambler, of course.

Mom got out when we arrived and quickly sat in the back with Millie before Tim could
get in. We left, Tim and I both trying hard to be nonchalant and upbeat. Mom was apprehensive
but Millie was in fine spirits and Mom soon relaxed.

We drove for more well over an hour. I retraced the route Tim and I had followed and
pulled off a dirt side road that dipped through a field and then lazily wound around
and climbed a lightly treed, grassy knoll. I pulled off and parked the car in a spot
offering a view over a distant farmhouse. I opened the door and stepped out, pulling
the seatback forward and offering my hand to Mom to help her out in a very gentlemanly
fashion.

I opened the trunk and we spread a couple of blankets on the grass, unloaded our picnic
baskets, and sat down to enjoy our lunch with the Rambler's doors open so we could
listen to the stereo. Millie had brought wine and that, together with the surroundings,
beautiful sunny day, and the casual, innocent behavior exhibited by both Tim and I,
seemed to relax my mom.

We were all lying on our backs, on the blankets, chit chatting and singing along to
the music. The wine helped but neither of the moms seemed to be aware of it since
either Tim or I replenished the bottles with fresh ones from the trunk, unobserved.
I noticed that both women were very relaxed, and Mom had finally quit tugging her
skirt down every time it rode up on her thighs. She was wearing a pleated, plaid skirt
just like Millie's, I imagined the same one that had gotten Tim so fired up. The hem
was resting about three inches above Mom's knees which were parted just enough to
make me think about what was up there, beyond the shadows that prevented further inspection.


"God, we should have brought chairs," Millie complained, stretching and arching her
back.

"I'll get the backseat out of the Rambler," I offered, struggling unsteadily to my
feet.

Mom frowned. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"No, no. I'm fine," Millie protested, but I was already reaching inside the car and
Tim had jumped up to help from the other side of the car.

It was an easy task. A sharp jerk on the front of the back seat pulled it from its
clips and Tim and I soon steered it out of the car, setting it down at the top of
one of the blankets behind our moms with the narrow, rear end facing their backs.
They soon shuffled back to lean against it. Soon, all four of us were leaning back,
feet stretched out before us, sipping the last of the wine.

Millie finished hers first, tossing her plastic glass over Tim onto the grass. "Well,
we're stuck here for a couple of hours until this wears off," she giggled. Mom agreed,
wondering how we had drunk so much wine.

"Because these little buggers probably wanted us to get drunk," Millie tittered, elbowing
Tim.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Mom said, eyeing me suspiciously.

""We'll just have a nap, and then we'll be ready to go," Millie suggested, pulling
the other blanket over top of us and worming her way down into a more prone position
but with her head still on the seat. Tim crooked his arm over his mom's head and snuggled
closer to her, straightening the blanket over her while Millie wiggled closer to her
son.

Mom held off for a few minutes, watching Millie's closed eyes, then slipped lower
and tugged the blanket over herself too. A moment later, I snuggled down closer to
Mom.

Time went by. We listened to the birds and the distant sound of the odd car driving
by on the road back over the hill. Once in a while I opened my eyes and looked for
the birds, then watched Mom. Tim was still lying with his arm over his mom's head,
but his eyes were closed. I could see his other hand moving slowly over his mother's
body, caressing her belly and running over her breasts. Millie seemed content. I was
jealous.

Tim opened his eyes and looked at me, then down at his mother. He leaned down to kiss
her face, slowly nipping her skin with his lips until hers met his. A long, languid
kiss ensued, with Millie arching her neck for more.

Mom opened her eyes and looked at her friend, lovingly kissing her son while he clearly
fondled her breasts under the blanket. She turned her head toward me but I was unable
to read the dark pool of her eyes, and she made no effort to clarify her thoughts.


I went for it. I lowered my face to hers, stopping short of her lips, slipping my
hand under the blanket until it rested on her stomach. Glancing at the maternal couple
next to us, I looked down at the blanket and moved my hand, but up to caress her breasts
as my friend was doing to his mom. No, my hand moved lower, onto her skirt, flexing
to bunch it up, pulling the hem higher until I could slip between her legs and pull
my fingers up to hook over her pantied pussy. Only then did I drop my tongue to tease
its way between her lips, flicking side to side as my finger mimicked the same action
across her panties.

"It'll be a while before we're sober enough to drive," I whispered, tongue and finger
gently flicking their respective targets.

"Then you'd better take your time," Mom whispered back, opening her legs and pushing
up, working around until she was shoving the dip between her lips onto my finger.


"I can picture the shape of your ass," I whispered.

Mom lifted higher but I drew my finger away, though not so far she couldn't pursue
and easily capture it with her muff.

"That's it, reach for it," I whispered, digging my finger briefly into her pantied
slit before drawing away again, loving the way her mound quickly regained the pressure
of my finger.

A tiny moan escaped Mom's lips, showing that she, too, was enjoying our little game.
Her hips dropped to the blanket and my finger followed her down but didn't reconnect
with her damp panties until she spread her legs wider. I slipped my tongue fully into
her mouth as my finger pressed between her lips and wormed its way as deep as her
panties would allow. It was a very long kiss and by the time it was over my hand was
inside Mom's panties and my finger was digging into her slit.

"I love your cunt," I whispered.

"Don't talk dirty," Mom moaned, capturing my tongue again and sucking it into her
mouth.

"I can't help it," I gasped for breath, continuing our conversation as soon as the
kiss broke. "I love it and I want to kiss it."

I started working my way down her body, pulling the blanket away as I went, Mom futilely
trying to hold my head high to no avail. Maybe she didn't try to hold me so hard.
Anyway, I was soon lying between her knees, head under her skirt, following the pungent
odor to her soaking panties, tugging them down past her knees. Her legs parted as
my face skittered along the inside of her tender thighs and she wasn't shy when my
mouth finally enveloped her, wet, hairy lips.

She pulled her knees up when my tongue began lapping inside her slit. She absolutely
loved it and moaned so loud I wondered if my Dad ever did this for her. She was really
hot for it. I rubbed my thumb across her pussy as I licked her, pulling it back when
I dug my tongue deep inside. I grew adept exchanging thumb for tongue and realized
with a start that when I pulled my thumb back, I didn't stop to rest it on her perineum
but let it slide back to rub over her asshole.

Shit! My thumb was right where my Mom shit. I was grossed out for a second but quickly
realized that was when Mom's moans grew louder and more primitive. I rubbed my thumb
gently over her little asterisk while exercising similar delicate attention with my
tongue. She moaned wildly.

"Ohhhahhhhh."

I retracted my tongue and drooled out a long stream of thick saliva, directing it
down to my thumb and rubbing it all over her crinkly bud.

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, ahhh, ohhhhhhh."

I angled my hand up and pushed my thumb inside, covering the nail.

"ohhhhhh goddddd ohhhhhhh, Ricky."

I covered Mom's pussy with my mouth and pushed my tongue deep into her cunt, sucking
with my mouth. I kept my thumb in place and slowly worked it deeper inside Mom's ass.
When she came, one hand banging the blanket beside me an the other holding my head
firmly between her legs, my thumb was pushed in as far as it could go and rather than
being treated like an unwelcome invader, Mom's bucking hips seemed intent on getting
as much of it as they could.

When she finished, I crawled up and kissed her.

"Please don't push me away anymore," I asked.

"I won't, baby. I won't."

Mom's arms circled my head and held it tightly to her chest. My face was turned inward
and only then did I realize that Tim was fucking his mom. They came while we watched
and like us, lay one on top of the other, quietly smooching.

"What were you doing down there?" Mom whispered.

"Kissing you there. Didn't you like it?"

"Yes. ... I meant the other thing."

"Did you like that too?"

For an answer, Mom turned my face to hers and pushed her tongue aggressively into
my mouth and her arms circled my head to hold me close for a long, intense kiss. When
it was finished, I got up and walked to the trees to relieve myself of some of the
wine I had drunk. Tim followed. After a few minutes, we could hear giggling behind
us.

When we turned around, we discovered that our moms weren't laughing at us peeing in
the woods. They had got up and were lying bent over the carseat from the thicker edge
with their heads on the blanket and bottoms toward us. Their skirts were flipped over
their backs, baring their backsides.

They giggled a chorus, "Guess which is which."

It was obvious of course, of course, but we played along. I was about to end the game
when Tim suddenly knelt behind Mom, motioning for me to do the same, leaning together
so our voices originated from the middle behind our moms. Tim pushed his pants down,
allowing his re-hardened cock to flop out. He grazed it across the top of my mom's
ass and motioned for me to do the same to his mom. I did.

"Guess which one," we sang out, barely able to contain our laughter.

Our moms laughed too, so the silly game continued with Tim and I rubbing our cocks
all over our mom's rear ends, laughing and repeating over and over, "Guess who?"

"Eenie, meenie, minie, moe," Millie sang out, to be oft repeated by the two of them
in chorus.

We kept rubbing our cocks around until both of us were really hard. I was definitely
thinking about stopping this silly game now because I was seriously wanting to slip
my tool inside Tim's mom, and almost did. But just then, Tim upped the ante. He pushed
his cock down with his fingers and slipped it under Mom's bum, between her legs, its
springy tension immediately pressing it up against her pussy.

I was shocked. Partly by Tim's action, partly by the wild look on his face, and partly
because I followed suit, pushing my cock down and slipping it between Millie's legs,
delighting in the feel of the slippery wetness of her taboo pussy pressing on the
back of my cock.

"Guess who," I said throatily, belatedly followed by Tim.

Neither mom answered. They were uncharacteristically silent, lying over the seat,
arms stretched out onto the blanket, faces turned down. I looked at Tim, resolving
that we really must stop this before it got further out of hand. Tim's face wore as
shocked an expression as I was feeling, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking
at his mom's behind. I followed his gaze down to his mother's ass and the cock lodged
between her cheeks, just in time to understand the look on Tim's face, to see myself
slide all the way into Millie's pussy, to feel the clutching squish of her striated
cunt as my cock passed through it.

It was as if time stood still. Tim stared. I froze. Then, I pulled out, in slow motion.
Both moms were silent and still, even Millie, who had just received the full length
of my cock. I pulled right out and let my cock hung suspended in the air an inch behind
Millie's delicious ass. I looked at Tim, horror mixing with confusion on my face.


Tim stare blankly back at me, then looked down at my own mother's bottom. He pulled
back, allowing his cock to spring up from between her legs and then, turning to look
at me, slid forward, overcoming the briefest resistance before plunging deep inside
Mom, forcing a heavy exhalation from her lungs.

I nudged my cock back to Millie's ass, found her slit, and pushed inside. Tim and
I looked at each other, both pulling back, than slamming in. We began fucking in unison,
gearing up to match stroke for stroke, reaching forward to grasp our moms' waists
at the same time, lunging, earnestly fucking, concentrating now, each intent on doing
the best for the woman kneeling in front of him. We grunted with the effort, our knees
digging into the coarse grass for leverage, struggling to follow as we pushed the
seat and our moms further onto the blanket.

We leaned over to rest our heads on our mothers' backs, on top of their flipped up
skirts pushed up under their breasts and still covering their heads. We looked at
each other as we fucked, our heads rocking as our mothers' backs reacted to each hunch
of our hips. I watched Tim slide his hands under Mom's blouse and grabbed her tits.
I imagined her long nipples being squeezed between his fingers, helped along by her
groaning response. I did the same with Millie, finding her tits to be larger than
Mom's but with short, fat nipples. I pulled them down hard, pinching, as I slammed
into her hard, pleased by the loud grunt my effort produced. I made it happen again,
and again, and again.

What are the odds that we both came together? But we did. Loudly. Moaning and grunting
as if nobody could hear. Well, so what? We were alone except for the distant farmhouse,
and the birds.

Tim and I exchanged places while our mothers' heads were still covered by their skirts.
When she could speak, still gasping for breath, Mom turned around and admonished us.


"What are you boys thinking? We're not schoolgirls you can trade around."

"Oh Mary," Millie gasped. "Lighten up. You can see they're on the right sides. They
may have touched us up a bit for fun, but they ended up where they belong. Right boys?"


Tim and I both nodded, but Mom looked uncertain until Millie jabbed her with her elbow
and we all laughed when she said, "That was the best blind date I've been on."

Tim drove home and Mom and I sat in the back seat. The wine must have made her weary
because she stretched her feet out and laid her head in my lap. Tim stopped on the
way home to pick up some cokes and Millie turned around to face me as soon as he got
out of the car.

Looking down at Mom, she asked, "Is she really sleeping?"

I nodded, "I think so."

Millie stretched then, arching her back in an exaggerated fashion, cupping her breasts
in her hands and sliding her palms slowly up onto their fronts.

"Oh, that Timmy," she sighed. "He was so rough with these." Millie dropped her hands
and quickly turned to face me. "But I liked it," she said, dropping her voice to a
hoarse whisper.

She pinched her nipples from outside her blouse, then suddenly lurched forward as
if something had pushed her sharply from behind, then jerked ahead again. Her face
broke out into a big smile and she dropped her hands just as Tim approached the car.


* * * * * * *

I had an overwhelming need to have my mother that night. Maybe I needed to prove my
love for her. I don't know, but the need was real. Dad wasn't home yet and Mom, despite
her words to me that afternoon, wouldn't do anything in case he arrived. We ate a
quiet meal. I could tell something was on Mom's mind and I wondered if she knew I
had let Tim fuck her, and that I had fucked her friend.

Dad finally got home about nine, completely bushed. He went straight to bed, telling
Mom not to wake him and to call in the next morning to say he was sick. Mom said she
was tired and was going to bed early too. I went upstairs but changed my mind, returning
downstairs dressed only in my shorts after a brief stop in the bathroom. I sat on
the couch, in the dark, and waited.

It was at least half an hour before I heard Mom's door open. The light in the bathroom
flashed on and off, followed by the soft pad of my mother's bare feet coming down
the hallway, her dark form soon discernable in the darkness, but only barely, the
creak of the stairs revealing her position as she descended the stairs. She paused
by the kitchen doorway to turn on the light, disappointment flitting briefly across
her face before she stepped out of my sight.

The kitchen light had outlined her body under the flimsy and worn summer nightgown
she was wearing, long nipples jutting into the material so hard they lifted it away
from her breasts. That her nipples were so hard stiffened my cock in my shorts. She
was thinking about today, about me, I was sure of it.

I heard the tap running, a glass filling, then the sound of water being gulped down
an eager throat. The slap of glass on the counter was followed by soft footsteps coming
closer. Her body appeared, then half turned to turn out the light, pausing as she
saw me sitting on the couch. Her high, patrician features expressionless as she regarded
me, only the twitching lines at the side of her mouth, the ones she hated so much,
indicated that her rigid body was indeed alive.

My eyes were drawn to a wet spot perfectly circling her left tit, starkly delineating
her stiff nipple and flattening with tight cohesion on the silver dollar sized areole
where water had splashed when she tipped the glass too high, overflowing her mouth
and spilling from her chin.

The light flicked out.

I couldn't hear her moving on the carpet and in the fresh darkness I couldn't see,
but I sensed she was coming toward me. The brush of her legs on mine confirmed my
suspicion.

"What are you waiting for here in the dark," she asked, her normal voice sounding
so loud I thought it could wake the dead.

I didn't answer.

"You didn't think I was going to come looking for you?"

I remained silent.

"Did you? With your father right upstairs?" Her voice was quieter now.

I kept quiet.

She didn't speak. Seconds ticked by, only our breathing marking the passage of time.


"Is that what you thought?" she whispered.

I don't think she expected me to answer because she whispered again right away.

"Have you got it out?"

I slipped my shorts down, under my ass, and pushed them to my knees. The rustling
audible even though our breathing was louder now.

Seconds ticked by again. She was waiting, now, teasing while my cock wobbled in the
dark, summer air. Now it was I that was frantic with expectation.

I felt her knees, outside mine. Was she getting ready to get on me? I braced myself.
A moan escaped my lips.

"Ohhhhh."

Mom's mouth had suddenly enveloped my cock. How she had done it, how her aim could
be so perfectly accurate, I'll never know, but it is a feeling I'll never, ever forget.
To have your hard cock suddenly covered by a warm, wet mouth without any warning.
Incredible.

She was sucking, sliding her lips tightly up and down my rigid member. I reached up
to grasp her head, to guide her mouth but her hands batted mine away. I let them fall
limply to my sides as my mother sucked and sucked my sensitive cock, sometimes swirling
all around my head, and sometimes dropping unexpectedly down my shaft. She went down
all the way, her lips nibbling around my root, my cockhead squished into what must
have been the entrance to her throat.

Then she would slide up and release me with a loud, sucking pop followed by gasps
for air and the drool of her saliva oozing onto my helmet, dripping down my shaft.
It was fantastic, exquisite torture. I couldn't stand it anymore and reached again
to control her head.

This time, she let me. Immediately, I began thrusting my cock into her mouth, desperate
for release. She allowed me to fuck her face, slowly at first, but then faster and
faster. The sound of her struggle to accommodate my plunging only increased the speed
of my frantic lunges until I was bursting in her throat, flooding her tongue, then
feeling the rivulets of my spend that couldn't find a home in her mouth, trickling
down my cock and onto my balls.

I collapsed back into the couch. Mom was moving and when I felt her knees outside
my shoulders I knew she had stood on the couch, even before I felt her wet, hairy
pussy pushing against my mouth.

"What was that bad word you used today?" her cackling whisper revealing a wicked sense
of humor.

My silence provoked a twisting rub that smeared her juices across my chin and lips.


"Hmmmmm?"

"Cunt," I whispered, followed by a sharp intake of breath as I, correctly, anticipated
her wetness covering my entire mouth.

Mom's hands grabbed the sides of my head, like I had gripped hers moments before.
She pulled away.

"Do you still love it?"

"Yes," I whispered, quickly sucking in air.

"Then lick it," she cried, yanking my head forward and grinding her pussy on my face.


She didn't speak again, at least, she didn't utter any sounds that were intelligible.
And, though she periodically released my head, I knew she didn't want me to speak,
only breathe. Eventually, her cunt was rubbed more delicately on my face as she guided
me to lick and suck and poke my tongue exactly where she wanted it. I thought it would
take longer than it did. Maybe it was a long time but I was still surprised when she
suddenly gripped me hard and ground her pussy in a sustained, hard series of bumps
and grinds, then collapsed, falling limply to the couch beside me.

She was like a rag doll when I manipulated her body onto her stomach, leaning forward
to stretch one leg behind me and draping the other over my lap. My fingers found their
way into her pussy and though she had so recently experienced a fulfilling release,
her bottom was soon twitching in response to my sensitive ministrations.

I searched around until I found the little jar I had brought downstairs with me from
the bathroom. I opened it with one hand, not stopping my pussy titillation, and set
it in the hollow of her back. I scooped up a big gob of petroleum jelly and worked
the edge of my hand between her cheeks, spreading them before twisting my fingers
down to smear the slippery goo on her asshole.

Mom's head jerked around.

"What are you doing?"

Instead of answering, I spread the jelly around on her cheeks, then returned to push
the remains onto her puckered hole.

"Ricky, what are you doing?"

I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and held the jar while I dug out a large wad
of jelly. I was silent while I greased my cock, then pushed the rest all over her
ass, pushing her thigh out so I could cram it onto her bud with my thumb.

"What are you doing to me," she whispered.

"Turn your face into the couch," I whispered back.

"What are you doing?" she repeated.

I spread her cheeks and placed my thumb onto her crinkly rosebud. Slipping my finger
back into her pussy, I whispered, "Put your face in the couch."

I began finger fucking Mom and gently rubbing my thumb over her dark crinkle, gradually
pressing harder until my thumb tip was dipping in just the slightest bit. Minutes
passed and Mom relaxed, recognizing play that was similar to that she had enjoyed
in the afternoon accompanied by my teasing tongue. Though she remained silent, her
face still looked back, eyes glinting intensely even in the darkness.

I raised my pussy hand up and arched its thumb up to join its brother that was teasing
Mom's asshole. I inserted it into the little hallway, the greeting room in which I
knew I had to linger before being invited into the chamber of sighs.

Mom buried her face in the couch.

She didn't make a sound until my hand pressed against her slippery ass and my thumb,
pushed in as far as it would go, bursting through the inner door. That's when I learned
the sweetest hello in the world could be a simple grunt.

After a while I replaced my thumb with my finger but, though longer, it was too thin
so I pushed another one in and worked Mom with the two but I knew it was time for
the real thing. I positioned myself behind her, my cock nudging her now open asshole.


"Easy," Mom cautioned.

"OK," I responded. "You come for it."

I held still, rubbing her rear end with my cock. She didn't move, still waiting for
me to push in.

I repeated, "You have to take it."

More rubbing until finally, tentatively, her ass pushed back, pinching my tip in her
dark well, paused, and then pushed harder. I popped inside. She waited for a full
minute, then pushed slowly but steadily back, scraping tightly over my shaft until
I was all the way in. Again, she waited.

At last, she rasped, "Move."

"What?" I asked.

"Fuck it," she cried. "Fuck it."

I pulled back slowly, not far, maybe an inch, then gently pushed back in. There was
no response, so I carefully copied that move, then again, and again. Soon I was traversing
two inches, but more quickly, though still not fast. It took me a good three minutes
to confidently launch full strokes in and out of Mom's ass, and another three, after
she began making appreciative sounds, before I started mixing it up with more interesting
thrusts and parlays.

Her moans and grunts showed she liked a period of slow in and outs to be followed
by a sudden flurry of hard, ramming thrusts, capped by a long, shoving, grinding plug.
I tried to cover her pussy with my hand but hers was already there and refused to
relinquish its prized position. Conceding her pussy to Mom's more expert fingers,
I concentrated on reaming her ass, dropping my right foot to the floor to leverage
myself above her arched up bottom, allowing me to really dig in and root around.

I was surprised by this sexy woman, my mother. She loved getting it in the ass, something
she'd never done before and later told me she was petrified when she knew what I wanted
to do. Yet she let me have her, just like she had allowed me to come on her face.
Though I didn't know it in the latter instance, I knew while I was gouging her bottom
that she would never have let my father do this to her. I instinctively knew that,
despite how much she loved it, she would never let anyone else have her ass. And when
I became aware of that, at the moment Mom's moans turned into such a howl she dug
her face into the crease between the cushion and the back of the couch, I emptied
my balls inside her, holding her hips to keep her ass arched up to accept my gift.


* * * * * * *

On Tuesday, I got a job. I rushed home to tell Mom the good news. As soon as I saw
her, standing by the kitchen, a plate of sandwiches and a large of milk waiting on
the table, I wanted her. I walked straight to her, ignoring the food despite my hunger,
taking her in my arms for an intense kiss.

"I got a job," I managed to get out between kisses.

"I know," she said. "I could tell."

I pulled her dress up with my left hand and slipped my right under her panties, my
long finger snaking between her cheeks to find her asshole.

"No, Ricky," she whispered unconvincingly. "Eat your lunch."

"Fuck that I said."

But she broke away and ran, laughing as she stumbled up the stairs. I rushed after
her but didn't catch her until she had reached her bed, pushing her forward, spreading
her legs and shoving her dress over her hips and ass, yanking her panties down. Her
struggle and giggles stopped then. She lay open and exposed in front of me, spread
legs and ass lewdly pushed up toward me in invitation as I undid my belt and pushed
my jeans down to free my raging cock. Her hands were scrabbling in the headboard,
searching for something, finding it, one hand reaching back to offer me a tube. I
pointed it at her ass, inserted the nozzled end between her cheeks, and squeezed until
a thick oil bubbled out from her crack and onto the roundness of her buttocks.

I pushed my cock in to replace the tube, pushing the goo into her hole, stopping to
wait for her to push back, to receive me at her own discretion, moaning when she finally
popped me in. Within two minutes, I was reaming my mother's ass for the second time
in my life.

On Thursday, I took her again.

That's how the summer went. Two or three times a week we managed to fuck at home,
at least once in the ass. On weekends, we joined Tim and his mom for a drive, stopping
to fuck in the great outdoors, close to each other but never again switching moms.


At the end of the summer, I went to college in the next town, where our college girls
were supposedly located. Tim went to Vietnam.

I had sex whenever I could with Mom throughout the fall and winter. It was tough on
Tim's mom, especially at Christmas. The following summer, Mom and I renewed our Sunday
drives and even managed to get into the drive-in again. We had become very practiced
lovers, well-attuned to each others joys.

One day, I came home from an early shift at my summer job to find Mom and Millie having
coffee. They were sitting on tall stools at the counter, sandwiches and milk placed
in front of the end stool for me. I sat down and began eating. I hadn't seen Millie
since Xmas when she looked drawn out and tired. She looked better now, with a little
summer sun. She and Mom both wore fancier dresses. They must have been at some kind
of luncheon or something, or were going to one. I munched away while they chatted,
until Mom suddenly included me in the conversation.

"Millie's really been missing Tim," Mom said.

It took a moment for me to realize that she was speaking to me. I turned toward Mom,
looking across Millie since she was sitting on the stool between us, with a mouthful
of sandwich.

"So do I," I mumbled around a mouthful of tuna salad and bread.

Millie burst out laughing, stretching her hand onto my thigh, patting it.

"Each your sandwich, kid. We can't let a lonely mother's pining get between a man
and his food."

They both laughed and Millie turned back to Mom to carry on their conversation but
she left her hand on my thigh. Though she didn't do anything, I became intensely aware
of its presence due to its proximity to my groin. I couldn't help it that my groin
started growing closer to her hand. Mom and Millie were reminiscing about the last
summer while my little guy stiffened and filled the crotch of my jeans, trying to
straighten out down the leg that Millie's hand so delicately decorated.

"Wouldn't it be nice if Millie could join us for our drives again?" Mom asked. I looked
at Mom's inquiring face. She added, "And maybe see a movie with us?"

Just then, Millie's fingers retracted, scratching along my inner thigh. Both women
were looking to me for a response, though I'm sure it wasn't the one I was currently
forming.

"Uh, sure," I bumbled out awkwardly.

Millie turned to Mom, "That's great, when would be good for you?"

Her fingers scratched me again as she spoke and waited for Mom's answer, stretching
closer to my groin and dragging her hand higher up my leg so the next move, which
quickly followed, allowed her fingers to lightly scrape over the tip of my burgeoning
cock.

"Why not this Sunday?" Mom replied. She continued with even more enthusiasm, "We could
go to the drive-in again. We can get in now and there's a triple feature showing this
Saturday. Remember that first triple feature we went to?"

Millie laughed, nodding, her fingers executing a longer scratch the length of my cock.


"Do I? That was really something."

My cock grew even more under her stroking fingers.

"Millie! What are you doing?" Mom suddenly barked.

I froze, but Millie's fingers didn't, and I couldn't help responding.

"What?" Millie's voice was the epitome of innocence.

"Your hand is on Rick's leg."

"It is?" Millie's innocence was extended.

My right hand had moved to cover Millie's on my left leg but it was too late and it
dropped in my lap, at least blocking any further advance onto my crotch.

"Damn right it is. It's right between his legs. What's it doing there?" Mom was indignant.


I didn't know what to do. I hadn't done anything. I was just sitting there, face red,
breath hard to come by.

"Touching your son's cock," Millie answered calmly.

I was shocked.

"Oh," Mom replied in an equally calm voice. "So, what do you think? Can you make it
on Saturday?"

I was stupefied!

"Yes, I think so. I'm sure my loving husband doesn't have any amorous plans for me."


Millie's hand suddenly slipped back, grabbed my hand from my lap and pulled it over
to drop it on her leg, just above her knee. She nudged my hand between her legs before
slipping her own back to resume its position, clamping over my cock.

Mom spoke again, her voice inquisitive rather than angry. "Millie, what are you doing
with Rick's hand?"

"Putting it between my legs," Millie replied, her hand sliding further up my leg so
her palm was scraping against my balls as her fingers cupped my cock.

"Oh," Mom said. "Can you come on Sunday, then?"

This conversation was too bizarre.

"Sure." Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"That's great," Mom kept contributing to this surreal interaction. "That's never going
to work," she said. "That dress is far too tight."

Mom reached down to grasp the hem of Millie's dress, between her legs, almost touching
mine which was still holding the inside of Millie's right leg, just above her knee.
She started tugging Millie's dress, trying to pull it higher.

"Come on, Millie. Open your legs," Mom said.

My disbelief was being replaced by the slow realization that I had been set up.

Millie's legs opened, her right thigh moving until it hit mine whereupon she lifted
her leg and draped her knee over mine. Her widening thighs had caused my hand to slip
higher up her leg. Mom tugged the dress higher, exposing Millie's white panties.

"Is she still touching your cock?"

I looked up into Mom's eyes. She was looking directly at me.

"Yes." My voice was so hoarse it didn't even sound like a word to me.

"Then it's fair for you to touch her."

I couldn't speak.

"Can you see her panties?"

I nodded. Millie's hand scrunched tightly over my cock.

"Touch them."

I stared. Millie's pulsing mound made her panties seem alive.

"She really misses Tim," Mom whispered.

I pushed my hand forward, twisting at the last minute so it could cup Millie's pussy,
arching my hand so the long middle finger could nestle between her puffy lips. Millie's
hand tightened even more and she released a loud sigh as her panties pushed against
my fingers.

For several minutes, I rubbed my friend's mother's pussy while my own mom kept her
dress pulled away so my hand was free to move. When her dampness soaked through to
my hand and her aroma filtered up to flood our nostrils, Mom stopped us.

"That's enough," she said, getting off her stool.

I didn't want to stop. I was enjoying the strange situation and the feel of Millie's
pussy. I wanted more. But Mom insisted, pulling Millie off the stool and away from
my eager fingers.

"But Mom," I protested, "she really misses Tim."

"Well, she shouldn't have touched my son's cock without permission."

Mom took hold of both Mom's hands and, walking backward, towed Millie out of the kitchen.
Millie had trouble walking but followed, kicking one high heeled shoe away that had
fallen half off her foot and managing to discard the other as she entered the living
room. I followed, cock painfully bent, loosening my jeans to relieve it.

I had expected Mom to lead Millie to the door and out but she turned her into the
living room, over to Dad's big chair, sidestepping the large ottoman in front that
Dad used to rest his feet. Mom squatted between the ottoman and the chair, pulling
Millie down to her knees on the opposite side and stretching her across by pulling
her arms.

Millie submissively flopped down, laying her head on its side and letting her arms
fall limply to the side of the ottoman without a struggle. Mom leaned over her and
stretched out to grasp Millie's tight dress, pulling it up her legs, baring the back
of her thighs, then higher, until it was bunched above her hips.

Mom looked up at me. "She's been very naughty."

I just nodded, looking down at Millie's exposed thighs and panties, not sure what
was going on or what Mom expected me to do. Mom's hands slipped up to hold Millie
down under her armpits.

"Smack her bottom," Mom commanded.

"What?"

"Smack her bottom.

"Mom, I can't ..."

"Yes you can. She touched you without permission. Now do it."

I reached down and lightly smacked Millie's pantied rear end.

"Harder."

I spanked her again with a little more force.

"Harder, or I won't let her come to the drive-in."

My cock would never have forgiven me if I let that happen.

Smack, smack, smack. Millie moaned

"Again. Harder."

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.

"Ohhh, unnghh, unggghhh."

I was beginning to enjoy this.

"Stop."

I raised my hand.

"I said stop."

I lowered my hand, confused, frustrated.

"Pull her panties down."

"What?"

"Pull her panties down."

I got down on my knees behind Tim's mom. Looking at Mom for confirmation, I grabbed
Millie's panties at each hip and dragged them over her bottom, pushing down until
the waistband stretched across the backs of her knees.

"Keep spanking her."

I slapped Millie's ass until her moans were loud and her cheeks red.

"Stop."

Mom leaned over Millie, close to her head.

"Do you want it now?"

Millie's head shook ... in affirmation.

"Please." That small word escaped amid a series of rapid breaths.

Mom looked up at me, kneeling behind Tim's mom, breathing hard.

"Fuck her," Mom said.

Mom prodded me again, looking down at my bulging, loosened jeans, then back up to
my face.

"I said fuck her. She can't wait until Saturday."

I pushed my jeans down, my huge boner flopping forward into attack position.

Mom held up her hand and leaned down to Millie again.

"Tim's friend is going to fuck you now. For your son."

Mom waved me on. "Take her."

I lined up with Millie's inflamed pussy and slipped inside, easily sinking my whole
shaft in. She was incredibly wet. I immediately started banging her hard. I was so
fucking excited and Millie was really ready for it. I really hammered into her.

"That's it, that's it." Mom cried, spurring me on. "You know she likes it hard."

I knew in that instant that Mom had known all along that I had fucked Millie the day
they bent over the Rambler's backseat on the hillside, and I had let Tim fuck her.
I went wild, pumping Millie from behind like a maniac until I blew my load inside
her, leaning over her back, gasping, gulping for air.

I pulled out quickly when Mom flung herself back onto Dad's chair, lifting her legs
up and out to display her rosy, freshly shaved pussy. I had never seen it without
a thick thatch of hair; in fact, it was the first shorn pussy I had ever seen. I stumbled
around Millie, shuffling with my feet still in my jeans, falling to my knees and throwing
my face between Mom's legs, gulping a huge breath just before her hands violently
yanked my face onto her soaking wet, bare cunt.

She hunched on my head frantically and in less than a minute she flooded my face with
her pungent juice. I remained licking between her legs, reveling in the occasional
appreciative twitch. At long last, Mom stood, straightened her dress and smoothed
it in place over thighs while Millie did the same, having already pulled her panties
up and snugging them into place.

"So, Saturday and Sunday, then?" Mom looked over me at Millie.

"Definitely," Millie responded. "Pick me up at eight?"

"We'll be there," I chipped in, struggling to my feet with jeans still around my ankles,
appearing a little foolish compared to the now-composed mothers, "Maybe even a bit
early."

* * * * * * *

I kept thinking about that afternoon over the next few days. I've thought about it
a lot since. It seemed too unreal to be true and, in a sense it was. but that day
was the culmination of months of pressures and shared emotional moments for Mom and
Millie, starting the Xmas before when Tim's absence really came crushing down on his
mom. Both moms were uncomfortable that Mom had me there and Millie didn't have Tim
and it came to a head in the summer when I was around every day. Millie found it too
hard to take and began avoiding Mom. So, they came up with a solution and, as women
often do, it was one that shared the communal wealth.

Fantastic for me, that's for sure.

I won't tell you about the following Saturday at the drive-in or the Sunday drive
other than to say it was absolutely incredible. I'm sure you can imagine what happened.
It was just the first of many subsequent movie and summer drive in the country experiences
that ensued through the rest of the summer and fall, and beyond.

We also had lots of fun in our home on afternoons that I had off. They kind of blend
into one another now. My real memory is of having a constant hardon but thankfully
one that was consistently relieved. A year of constant, bare-backed fucking. Oh, those
glory days.

The moms manipulated their two spouses, who knew each other but weren't friends, into
becoming close pals. There were many fishing and hunting trips over the next few years
where they were both gone for days at a time and we knew exactly when they would be
home. I, of course, could never go because of work or college. Darn!

We also began that summer to have barbecues at each other's homes. The first one was
at our place and still provides a searing set of memories for me today. Mom sent my
dad and Tim's out to the barbecue to warm it up for at least ten minutes before putting
the potatoes on and then to wait a half hour before following with the steaks.

Ah, the danger-piqued joys of slowly slipping my hard tool in and out of a man's wife
from behind while she held her summer dress with one hand over her hips for me so
my hands were free to twist and tug her nipples, while she sipped on her drink, hidden
behind the counter as she leaned on it and watched her husband standing by the barbecue.
A slow, languid fuck ten steps from getting caught.

Oh, and I should mention Mom's hand reaching around to cup and tickle my balls while
the fingers of her other hand circled the base of my shaft, occasionally pulling me
right out of Millie, teasing us both, before steering my cock back inside her friend.
Mom would follow up by either slamming her pelvis into my ass or pressing me gently
but firmly. I could never tell which was coming. Sometimes she kept me pressed in
and others she pulled me back right away, sometimes all the way out as I mentioned
above but usually only part way. She controlled us, governing the way I fucked Tim's
mom.

And if that wasn't delicious enough, she was always whispering in my ear, issuing
conditional promises like, "If you tease her right, you can do it our special way
tonight."

I knew I'd "done it right" because the moms encouraged the dads to drink lots during
and after dinner so mine wouldn't wake up to the loud moans and groans filling the
house in tune with the movements of his son's cock in his wife's ass.

As soon as Tim's parents left, Mom sent Dad upstairs to bed. "Rick can help me clean
up, dear."

He had no sooner disappeared than Millie knocked on the door, stepped inside and closed
it, pushing her body hard on mine when she saw that Dad had already gone upstairs,
shoving her tongue deep into my mouth for a long, fully entwined kiss. When Mom appeared
behind us, issuing a "Umhmm," Millie broke off the kiss, laughed and whispered in
my ear.

"Tease the shit of her tonight. She deserves it." She left to drive her husband home,
but not without a final grope.

"Go check on your father," Mom instructed me, turning on her heel and walking toward
the kitchen. I watched her go, hips swaying, each cheek taking its turn straining
against the light material of her loosely skirted summer dress.

Dad was planted face-first on the bed, shirt and sandals off but shorts only pulled
part way down, exposing his middle-aged, hairy ass. It was a shock to think that Mom
was only six years younger than him. I walked down the stairs, trying to go slowly
so I could savor what was coming, but failing.

Mom was standing in front of the side counter, where Millie had leaned earlier that
evening with me and Mom behind her in a chain. She was still fully clothed. I walked
up behind her, unbuttoning my summer shorts and letting them drop into a pile around
my bare feet. My hand lifted high enough to hook my thumbs into the waistband of my
underwear, pushing them down over my ass. I had to bend forward and lift the front
to get them over my sky-hunting cock. Although I'd blown my load often lately, I still
felt that I had a bad case of blue balls.

When I straightened up, Mom issued another instruction. She didn't wait for my report
on Dad.

"Unzip me."

I found the little zipper under the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled it down
the long length of her back, following the arc of her spine into the dip before the
track swung out to end just above the swell of her buttocks, the crack leading to
the joys below just starting to peek out beneath the zipper.

Mom waited, unmoving, not speaking. Delicately, I inserted my index fingers just under
the shoulders of her dress and slipped it over her shoulders, slowing its fall down
her arms, which she straightened until her hands were free, replacing them on the
counter in front of her, out of my sight. I stooped to follow the dress down, over
her hips and past her buttocks, unencumbered by panties, and down to her knees where
I waited patiently, dress held up from the floor, until Mom stepped out of it, one
foot at a time. I draped the dress over the counter to Mom's left side, eyes roaming
up and down her naked body.

I reached around to cup Mom's bare tits, lifting their weight in my palms before slipping
my fingers up to possess those long, stiff nipples I loved so much.

Mom tolerated barely a tweak before barking, "Don't touch me!"

I jerked my hands back, surprised, confused and, yes, hurt by her rebuke.

Within seconds, I saw that all was well when Mom's right hand swung into sight at
her side, palm held up, fingers closed to contain a large handful of petroleum jelly.


"Put it on yourself first and then, very carefully, rub it on me." Her voice was all
soft and feminine, in sharp contrast to her recent rebuke.

I dipped my finger into the bowl of her hand and dabbed some jelly onto the top of
my helmeted soldier, smearing it around and under the head with my fingers, then returned
for more to coat my shaft. I placed the next bit in a single gob on top of my tip
and pressed it between her cheeks, pressing my fingers against the underside of my
shaft to force it near her puckered hole.

She started whispering to me then as I retrieved gob after gob, smearing it between
her cheeks in the same manner.

"Did you like pushing your cock under Millie's dress when her husband was right outside
talking to your father, you nasty boy?"

Oh, god. She was in a mood.

"Did you like it when I pulled her panties down so you could slip it under her musky
pussy?"

I didn't answer her queries. I knew she didn't really want me to. This was all part
of it. We had already started. She was fucking my mind.

"What kind of slut would let you do that, let her son's teenaged friend push his cock
into her cheating slit while she smiled at her husband, and then happily ate the steak
he labored to cook while she was pushing her ass back, begging for more stiff cock?"


I scraped the last of it from her hand and loaded my cock, ready for the last application
while she smeared the remains in her hand all over her tits. Spreading her cheeks,
I guided my cock to her brownish opening.

"What kind of mother would help her friend cheat with her own son, and then let him
shove his filthy, unwashed cock into her ass while her husband lay passed out on their
marital bed?"

"You would," I gasped, pushing my cock into her, steadily overcoming the diminishing
resistance in her well-used chute, letting loose the first loud groan of the night,
but definitely not the last.

Mom leaned forward to make her asshole more readily available, pressing herself to
the counter, but not before my hands managed to slip under her greasy tits to squeeze
them just as the root of my cock crushed against her cheeks. Grinding around in a
slow circle, I lifted her up onto her toes, letting my tip scrape the soft tissue
of her inner chamber.

"Ohhhhhhh, godddd, you do that so well," Mom cried.

"What?" I begged the obvious.

"Fuck my ass," she moaned as her pucker tried to hold my retreating pole.

"Do you like the way I do it?" I asked as her pucker switched direction to desperately
chase after my thrusting cock as it blasted upward, lifting her onto her toes and
then off, reaming her slippery bunghole.

"I love it, baby," Mom groaned. "God help me, I love it."

She grunted my name with each subsequent thrust.

I don't know how we managed to stay upright but we did. Afterward, I could see a huge
crease across Mom's abdomen where she met the edge of the counter. Women are tough
man. I couldn't have taken that and I also knew her moans weren't groans of pain.
She'd taken it all like a woman.

That scenario was repeated several times that summer, at our house and Tim's. Once,
on the way home from a barbecue there, Mom leaned over and sucked me off while Dad
lay passed out in the backseat of his car. It was as we were crossing through the
almost empty main street, about eleven at night. Mom just leaned over, rubbed my crotch
for a moment, then deftly opened my pants and pulled me out. Her mouth slipped over
my head, tongue swirling around, then pulled off and flicked all over my throbbing
helmet. As we passed in front of the deserted theater, Mom pushed her lips tightly
over my shaft right down to the root, munching all the way until her throat encountered
my head, and enveloped it. I managed to get down our street without hitting any parked
cars. The car jerked to a halt when I prematurely slammed it into Park and grabbed
the hair at the back of Mom's head, shoving her down into my thrusting hips, my cum
exploding into her mouth. I had stopped in the nick of time.

I still managed to fuck her ass after getting Dad into bed, dangerously taking her
on the carpet in her bedroom, unable to wait after she came out of their bathroom,
totally naked with her ass already greased up. I realized there was method in her
madness. She wanted me to last, so she made sure I could on the way home. Although
there had been lots of clandestine groping at Millie's, I hadn't actually been able
to get enough time to fuck her.

What an incredible woman Mom was. The more time passed the more I couldn't be near
her without being hard.

BTW, I never did take Millie's ass, or any other woman's for that matter. That was
something truly special shared only between Mom and me. Strangely, Millie never offered
though she knew I was doing Mom that way. I don't think she was afraid to try it,
nothing scared her. I guess she just realized there were certain boundaries you don't
cross.

* * * * * * *

Tim finally came home but I was out of town with friends and he left before I could
get home. He only stayed for two days. It wasn't anything to do with me fucking his
mom, he didn't find out about that. According to everyone who saw him, old friends
and even his mom, he wasn't the same person. He was different somehow, uncharacteristically
moody. He left abruptly, without saying a word.

Tim didn't show up for another two years. By then, he was a Sargent in the special
forces. We had a few beers together in a local bar where several other guys who were
also just back from the Nam were drinking. They kept their distance, according Tim
a strange respect as soon they saw some kind of insignia on his uniform. It was almost
like they were in awe of him but at the same time wary, even afraid. I mentioned it
to Tim but he just brushed it off.

"Fuck it," he said, something he said a lot in the few days he was home.

He never talked about fighting in Vietnam, but I had overheard those guys mentioning
Cambodia and Laos after they backed away.

That was the last time I saw Tim. He never came back. Oh, he didn't get killed. He
became a mercenary and Millie got postcards about once a year and then less often,
never a letter, from a variety of countries in Africa, Asia, and Latin America, wherever
there was trouble.

I continued having fun with Tim's mom, often feeling nervous about him finding out
and not liking the idea. But hey, if you were presented with Millie's willing mouth,
open legs, and quivering bottom, what would you have done?

It stopped when I met Laura and it became evident she would be the one for me. For
mom at least. I did stray a few times with Millie on visits home. That woman just
wouldn't be denied once her mind was set.

So that's it. I fucked my head off and never got caught.

But that's not the end of the story, not quite anyway.

