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My Mother's Bed

By: Perlita



I can't believe I just had sex in my mother's bed. Kevin is beside me, sleeping. He always sleeps after sex. The sheets are a mess and I'll have to wash them before my mother gets back. I have a few days, but have an irrational fear of her returning before planned.

Across from me, on the wall, is a portrait of my mother that she had taken during her "wild" phase a few years ago. This phase entailed having her picture taken at a glamour studio and going on vacation without me and my sister for the first time. We heard constantly about her new independence.

"I've done everything for you girls all my life and nothing for myself. I'm going to Las Vegas with Shirley for a few days. You can stay with your dad."

"Thank god," said my sister under her breath. For my sister, family vacations were an interruption of her social life. The hyperactive social life my mother tried to curb since adolescence, to no avail.

I agreed with my sister. Our mother's independence, to us, was long overdue and inadvertently provided our own long sought-after freedom. That occurred when I was 15. A couple years later, my mother's "wild" stage ended and she joined a church, a church that had a schedule of activities so robust that one had precious little time to sin. Then again, I'm not sure my mother would know how to sin even if she did have the time.

"Wednesday is potluck, are you two coming?" my mother asked, pulling the calendar from the refrigerator and taking the felt tip pin off the velcro holder. 

"We just went to game night yesterday," my sister complained.

"And tomorrow we have Bible study," I added.

"An idle mind is the devil's playground," was my mother's retort. "Meet me here at 6:30. I'm going to go to the gym then stop at the store."

I stopped going to church last year. I don't need a bunch of repressed, old-fashioned people telling me what to do. I don't think sex is a sin. Kevin and I love each other and we express this love physically. He's not using me, like my mother thinks.

"You should wait until marriage. If he respected you, he'd wait," she told me with that mother duck look she gets when she doesn't approve of something.

"No one waits until marriage," I replied. "That's old-fashioned."

"I waited."

"No one waits anymore."

"Lots of people wait," she replied slowly, as though I were mentally retarded and she had to explain a lofty concept. "Today television and movies make you think it's okay to have sex. Sex should be with one person only."

"I'm an adult. You treat me like a kid."

"You're only 19. There's a lot you don't know yet."

She's wrong, I know a lot more about sex than she does. Kevin and I have been having sex for over a year now. I've probably had more sex with Kevin than my mom had in her entire marriage to my dad. I think it would do my mother good to have regular sexual release. Orgasm is part of emotional and mental health, if you ask me. My mother needs an orgasm, that's for sure. And she has the opportunity. There's a man from the church that has been taking her out for months now.

"Why don't you sleep with him?" I asked one day, hoping for an adult-to-adult conversation.

"It can wait until we get married, if we ever do. I don't think it's your position to ask me that."

"You should relax a little."

"Sinning isn't relaxing."

The portrait of my mother on the wall was taken when glamour shots were still popular. Actually, I don't think they were popular anymore; my mother has always been behind the times. In the photo, my mother is wearing a red sequined gown and is lounging on pillows. I wonder why she leaves this photo on the wall, now that she's religious. Isn't it a sin? I asked her once.

"It's not a sin, it's just a picture," she replied tersely, her disapproving stare at its strongest. I felt too stupid to pursue the subject.

Kevin has started snoring beside me. I was reluctant to have sex here. Kevin talked me into it. He has the ability to talk me into things I don't want to do. He and my mother do not get along – oil and water for sure. He's always saying that my mother is so full of pronouncing "shoulds" in life, that she can't get enough air to breathe.

In her defense, it's not wrong to have religion. I just think it's doesn't have to be so extreme. Sex is beautiful. My mother was a teenager after the so-called "sexual revolution." I don't know why she wasn't affected by it. What happened to the women who wrote "Our Bodies, Ourselves?" What happened to the women who shed their bras and demanded sexual rights? Did they disintegrate into thin air? What did they teach to their daughters? Or maybe they never got married and have no daughters to pass their teachings onto. There's a missing link that I've never understood. I don't know why people are so repressed again.

My mother is on a retreat with women from her church. I don't know why they call it a retreat when all they do is share a cabin and talk. In her absence, I invited Kevin over for dinner and a to watch a DVD and whatever happens after that. My mother would be furious if she knew Kevin was spending the night. She knows we're having sex, but any outward demonstration of it solicits a disapproving stare and cold silence the next morning.

My sister also lives at home, too. She's spending an inebriated night with her gang. I asked her to spend the night elsewhere. She readily complied, also taking the opportunity to do what she normally does without the parental judgment.

When Kevin arrived, I was stirring the spaghetti sauce.

"What's for dessert?" he asked immediately.

"Shouldn't we have dinner first?"

"Who says? Your mom's not here. We can have dessert first."

"If you eat your dinner," I teased, "mommy will let you have a big, big dessert."

Echoes of my mother, I suppose. One should eat dinner first. Kevin has broken me of some of my mother's habits. This evening he broke me of even more.

"I want dessert," Kevin purred in my ear as I stirred. He began fondling my breasts through the blue silk of my favorite, most seductive dress.

My nipples hardened and I had second thoughts about the "dinner first" rule. He then started kissing my neck. My pussy felt very hot. I dropped the spoon. Dessert would be first this evening. Kevin continued kissing my neck and fondling my breasts while the steam of dinner fogged my face.

"Do you want dinner?" Kevin whispered.

"No, not really," I moaned.

Kevin continued fondling one breast while he moved the other hand under my dress. His hand found my silk underwear and he rubbed my pussy through the material. I was wet with excitement.

Kevin's strong, bony hands teased my swollen, aroused clit through the silk. I put my hand behind me to check on the state of Kevin's arousal. For my convenience, Kevin had unzipped as he walked up behind me. His penis was accessible, very hard and slightly wet at the tip. Pre-cum. It turned me on when he got wet.

It was Kevin's habit to tease me until I asked for what I wanted. At first, I was embarrassed by having to ask. Later I learned to enjoy the climaxing excitement and not to rush my pleasures.

"Put your finger inside me," I moaned.

Kevin complied and I felt the rush of blood as his finger found its way inside my panties and into my waiting vagina. He fondled and fucked me with his able fingers. I was well on my way to my first orgasm of what promised to be a long, sex-filled evening. I might get hungry, but I would be loved.

"Are you going to cum all over my fingers?" he asked playfully.

"I plan to," I replied.

He poked and prodded my wet vagina. I writhed against the stove, trying not to burn myself against the electric coil. Kevin's penis was against my back. Pushing me against the stove for balance, he used his free hand to put his penis in my ass. Not all the way, just enough to tell me what he wanted.

I was climaxing from his fingers and confused about his penis. I wasn't sure I wanted to try anal sex. Kevin had suggested it before, but I'd avoided answering him that I'd ever do it.

Kevin pushed against me more and inserted another finger into my vagina. I felt my legs quiver and I lost balance. Kevin held me up as he ravaged my vagina. I felt him push his penis deeper into my crack. I let it happen.

"How does that feel?" Kevin asked.

I didn't respond as I was pre-occupied with my on-coming orgasm. My breathing increased and my legs quivered more. I pushed Kevin's hand deeper inside of me. As I did, he thrust his penis into my anus. It hurt. I wasn't sure I liked it but I didn't want to be prude.

He stopped for a moment then began thrusting slowly inside of me. I was distracted by the pain, but also stimulated by his fingers. It was an odd sensation – extreme pleasure and unusual pain. I came suddenly, feeling like my vagina was a spring that had let loose.

Kevin came right after me, dripping wet semen into the crack of my ass as he removed his penis from my anus. He came very quickly. Anal sex certainly turned him on. I made a mental note to ask if this was his first time. Now that I let him do it, I wasn't sure I would allow him again.

After he removed his penis, we lost our balance and fell backward, into the table. We disrupted the plates and glasses I had set before Kevin arrived. One of the glasses fell onto the floor and broke.

"Shit, my mother will kill me," I said. "These are her favorite glasses."

"She won't notice one missing," Kevin said. "Let's go upstairs and lie down."

I was worried about the glass. I looked for the broom.

"Forget that now," Kevin said pulling me toward him. "I'll clean it up later. Let's go upstairs."

He gave me a long, deep kiss. I loved his kisses. Tender and moist.

I turned off the stove and led him upstairs to my room. He pulled back as we got to the door.

"Let's go in your mom's room," he said.

"I can't," I replied. "It would be too creepy."

Kevin tugged at my arm. I tugged back, trying to get him in the direction of my room. "Come on," he insisted. "It'll be fun. Her bed hasn't seen sex for years. It needs some practice."

Although he was right, I came to my mother's defense. She is my mother, after all.

"She's just going through a phase. It'll pass."

"It's funny how she stopped believing in sex when we started having it," Kevin said while biting on my ear.

My mind started to obsess on this notion. Kevin must have noticed for he returned to my body quickly. His comment was nagging at my mind, but my body was not connected to this. 

In the hallway, outside of my room, Kevin removed my dress. Blue silk heaped around my feet, Kevin knelt in front of me to remove my underwear. He gave me tender kisses on my vagina. Teasing, fraternal pecks where friends don't kiss. He kissed for hours, it felt, until he applied his tongue to my wet vagina and erect clit. My clit throbbed beneath his tender, wet care although it was still swollen and tender. It hurt when he licked hard. My ass still hurt too. Kevin stopped and looked up at me.

"Let's go to your mom's room."

This time, I followed obediently.

As we walked into my mother's bedroom, I realized that since she had left for her retreat, I hadn't entered the room even once. Since childhood, my sister and I were taught the "rules" whereupon we would enter our mother's room only in an emergency. We were not to enter to borrow her jewelry or a tissue. The boundary to her room could only be crossed with her permission and that permission was rare. While I had my share of tearful confessions in her bedroom, those, too, occurred only when she saw my tears and invited me in. One did not run into mother's room and jump on the bed into her arms. She just wasn't like that.

Kevin laid me down on the canopy bed and I was surrounded by unstained white and pale lavender in the bedspread and canopy. The bed was firm, but comfortable. Kevin spread my legs and fed on my throbbing pussy as the portrait of my mother watched over me. I pulled Kevin's face deeper into my pussy. His tongue darted inside my vagina, around the walls and over my still-swollen clit. The pain of my first orgasm was subsiding. My clit tingled again with that electric feeling until I had a metallic taste in my mouth. My inner ears heard the ghost of my living mother.

"It's just not right. It's wrong!"

I came with Kevin's tongue inside me. I lifted my pelvis into his loving mouth. I came on my mother's bed, in my mother's room, in my mother's house. Saliva and cum were on my mother's clean and pristine bedspread and sheets. I began to worry the stains wouldn't come out in the wash.

Kevin tore me from my worries by jumping on the bed and dancing over me, his hips wagging and his erect penis moving around my face. He dropped to his knees and sat lightly on my chest as he inserted his penis into my mouth. Hot with orgasm, I licked and sucked until I could taste hot, sticky fluid in my mouth.

Kevin fell on the bed next to me. We lay next to each other staring at the ceiling. I loved having the house to myself. We were starved for sex, not having made love since last weekend. We had no barriers, no mothers, no roommates, no sisters. We could have sex anywhere, anytime we wanted. This was freedom.

"We need music," Kevin said after his short post-orgasm rest. He jumped from the bed and went to the small stereo on the dresser. Looking through my mother's CDs, he snorted with derision. "Just Christian shit. Where are your CDs?"

He went to my room and retrieved some hip and throbbing music to match our excitement.

In my mother's room, listening to her CD player, a wave of guilt arose. Would she be able to tell I had used her CD player? How could she? I would wash the sheets tonight – we would sleep in my bed while the washer and dryer removed all traces of my and Kevin's juices.

"What are you thinking about?" Kevin was always keenly aware of my thoughts.

"Maybe we should change rooms," I suggested seductively to lead him away from my true, worrying thoughts.

"I like it here," he announced, walking to the bed. "It's such a nice room, so clean." He sat next to me and started opening the drawers on her nightstand.

I panicked. You didn't rummage through mother's drawers.

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking for fun stuff."

"Let's go somewhere else. It's boring in here."

Kevin ignored me and began to announce his finds, like an auctioneer. "Bible. Who would have thought? Rosary, of course. We must, we should do something useful before bed. Can't have those nasty thoughts."

Kevin's sarcasm was bothering me, but I knew if I said anything it would get worse.

He continued. "Nightcream. Tissues. Nothing interesting here." He moved to the bottom drawer. The inventory was much greater here.

"Another Bible, jeez, how many Bibles do you need? What's this?"

Kevin pulled out a small notebook. "A diary," he said with glee. "Let's see your mom's innermost thoughts."

He read, "Clean oven. Go to hardware store and pick out floor tile. Call Robin." He threw the notebook back into the drawer. Hopefully his disappointment would end his search. I tried to lure him back into my loving, and rejuvenated, body.

"What does she keep in all those dresser drawers?" he said rhetorically, rising. It wasn't over yet.

I lay back in the soft, cotton sheets and decided to ignore my curious boyfriend. I don't know why he is so upset about my mother and her religion. I don't like it either but it's like he's obsessed by it. Like he's got to challenge her. I don't agree with her either, but I know better than to challenge my mother.

As Kevin searched my mother's private belongings, I luxuriated in the clean, soft smell. I was responsible for my own laundry and my sheets never felt this clean. Since I turned 18 my mother refused to buy my sister or me anything personal which included pillows. My four-dollar pillow was a pile of rocks compared to the downy softness of my mother's five pillows. I used three and saved only two for my inquisitive lover.

"I've struck oil, my dear." It was Kevin at the dresser.

He held up an unusual object. It was a dildo. To be honest, I'd never seen one.

Kevin spoke to me with a serious expression. "I know, Jean, that as your pastor I should not stick a dildo in your hot pussy, but I promise to forgive you later at confession."

Jean is my mother's name. My stomach felt tight.

"That's not funny, Kevin."

"Jean," he said, not leaving the role of pastor-lover, "My wife's been in a wheelchair for 20 years now. I can't take it any longer. Every Sunday at church when I see you praying and singing I think, Jesus would forgive me for wanting such a beautiful woman."

I asked Kevin to stop. In response, he took a Bible from the drawer.

"It says right here," he pointed to a page in the giant tome, "that a pastor with wheelchair-ridden wife may seek physical solace after 20 years after which his vow of chastity has been served."

I was quiet.

Due to my lack of response and my inability to role-play, Kevin now was my mother. "Well, Pastor, if that's what the Bible says, then okay. Fuck me then."

Kevin put down the Bible and picked up the dildo from the dresser. During his role play, I had felt the air of frigidity arise. I wasn't sure I could play along. However, Kevin's dexterity with the dildo re-kindled my dying embers. I felt completely removed from my body's response. Seconds before I felt sick and humiliated. One touch later, all thoughts of guilt were dissipated.

Kevin moved the dildo around my labia, and my clit. Kevin moved the dildo inside my vagina with one hand while he caressed my clit with the other. This was the first time I'd used a dildo, if you could say I used it. It was harder than a penis could ever be. With Kevin's penis, I had an orgasm about half the time. The dildo was different. I had the urge to push it inside me as far as it could go.

"You do it," Kevin said, letting go of the dildo.

I was still slightly uncomfortable giving myself pleasure. I tried to push with the same pressure Kevin had used, but found it slightly difficult. Kevin stared at me with the look of a pervert. That made me even more uncomfortable.

"Go girl," he said lustfully, moving closer to me. He sat next to me and began masturbating. He caressed his erect penis as he gave me long, dirty looks.

His masturbating turned me on immensely. When Kevin and I had watched a porn flick a few weeks ago, I had felt embarrassed. It was the first time I'd watched a porn movie. Now Kevin was my live porn flick and I was getting excited. Is this how men felt all the time?

As Kevin stroked himself, he let out moans of pleasure. I became more adept at handling my dildo and serviced myself with as much intensity as Kevin serviced himself. Kevin spit in his hand and rubbed the spit all over the head of his penis, enhancing the pleasure. I licked my finger and touched my clit. I hadn't realized what a little spit could do for pleasure, even on a finger. I licked my finger again, tasting my own juices. Odd, but not unpleasant.

To be honest, I'd never really given myself an orgasm. Sure, I'd touched myself, but was always too embarrassed to go all the way. I don't know why. As I felt the excitement of my body and the dual excitement of doing it to myself, I noticed, again, the picture of my mother. Why didn't she teach me about the pleasures I could give myself? She obviously knew. This was her dildo inside of me. The thought both repulsed and excited me. She may have shut down her body, but I would not.

I pushed the dildo in deep, to that spot that made my legs tremble. I didn't need to rub my clit any longer. This orgasm was not going to be in my clit but in my vagina. It was deep inside. The more orgasms I had in a short period, I noticed, the deeper they became. This was going to be very deep, I could tell.


My Mother's Bed



Kevin was rubbing away, with a faraway look in his eyes. I knew it would not be long. I stared in his eyes to match my climaxing to his. As his hand caressed his red, angry penis, I caressed my breasts. As he went deeper, I thrust the dildo inside of me. He began muttering those words, those unintelligible words, that indicated he was close to orgasm. I rode my new toy like a cowgirl. I thrust my hips into it and screamed with abandon, both from the pleasure and for fun. I could see how my titillation spread to Kevin and vice versa. We came within seconds of each other. It was beautiful.

Now Kevin is snoring. I wanted to do it again, but I guess three times is his limit. We haven't had the traditional penis-in-vagina sex this evening, I realized. So, that leaves room for more, if you ask me. I'm sure Kevin will wake soon. I hope so. I've got to get the sheets washed before my mother gets home. And get the dishes cleaned, too.



My Mother's Befouled Breasts



When I was in junior high school, I started being bothered by my parents' practice of saving used Kleenexes. I found crumpled tissues everywhere and threw them in the trash. My parents got mad because they thought it was wasting money not to use the tissue up to the last bit of it.

Perhaps because I was starting to develop breasts, I was especially troubled by Mom's habit of blowing her nose on tissues and keeping them for later re-use in her bra. A sickness would sweep over me at the sight of an uneven bulge between or above her breasts, of wadded tissues displayed on her chest like macabre echoes of flowers I had seen in women's cleavages on television, or a tissue sticking out from the top of her dress like a plume. 

Why, I wondered, did she want something dirty, something with snot on it, right on her breasts? Although I was too young to see them for myself, I well knew that in magazines like Playboy and Penthouse women's breasts were shown off as something sexually exciting. Everywhere I looked I could see grown-up women, both in real life and in magazines and on television, emphasizing the breasts as something beautiful and alluring. But when I looked at my mother, I saw them being used to keep trash.

One day I came home from school and found Mom in the kitchen. She was wearing a simple sleeveless dress with a yellow background and flower print. A bulge the size of a golf ball was in the middle of its chest area, right above the bustline.

Before I said anything, she angrily asked, "What're ya looking at, Teen?" I used my first name, Tina, when I was growing up.

"That looks disgusting," I said, pointing to her befouled breast area. "Please throw it away, Mom."

"This dress doesn't have any pockets, does it?" she challenged, hands on her hips.

Anxiety shook me, a painful tension on my scalp and the palms of my hands. "Mom, it's dirty," I said desperately. "Please throw it away."

"Kleenexes cost money," she retorted, "and I'm not going to waste it."

"They don't cost much money," I said weakly. "The whole box doesn't cost much."

Ironically, cleanliness as a virtue was strongly emphasized in my household. Mom was a non-drinker and non-smoker who in most respects was both fastidious and tidy. She did not work outside the home but she definitely worked in it. Her days were not spent in a housecoat crashed on the couch in front of the TV. She was neatly dressed every day, conscientiously performing household chores and driving us kids around. Our house was never spotless or "neat as a pin" but cleaner and tidier than some other homes that I visited. Mom had taught me that being clean was extremely important which may partly explain why I was so terribly bothered by what I viewed as dirtiness in her.

Throughout my teen years, my mother and I had regular fights over her befouled breasts. I thought that the breasts are one of the main things that distinguish women from men. They symbolize womanhood. They are supposed to be lovely in their shape and form. How can they be places to keep something that has been dirtied? Is that what it means to be a woman -- being a walking trash can?

"Mom, other women don't put dirty tissues in their bras," I once told her.

"I've seen women do it," she said.

"Who?" I asked. 

"My own mother, women in stores," she replied.

One time I was in the upstairs hallway when Mom blew her nose, then stuck the tissue in her bra. 

Anxiety and disgust gripped me like they so often did. "Mom, please, don't just stuff it in there," I pled.

"If I want to stuff, I'll stuff!" she declared.

I cringed.

Often I was at the table, trying to eat when I saw a used tissue distorting my mother's chest area or sticking out of her top. A sick feeling would swirl in my belly as I tensed up. "Please, Mom, please throw it away," I would beg anxiously.

Glaring at me with her green eyes full of fury, she would usually pull the dirty tissue out of her bra and violently wave it in my face. Then she would either toss the used Kleenex in the trash or on the floor.

Once when I was sick with a cold, I told Mom it made me even sicker to see her carrying around a used tissue in her chest. "It's filthy!" I croaked.

"I should slap your face," she said angrily.

As a teenager, I often found myself nervously touching my chest through my clothing as if to reassure myself that the area was smooth and not distorted, not dirty.

One time we had just gotten into it about her trash can-chest and I shuddered and said, "And you wonder why I'm not happy here."

"Because I've got Kleenexes in my bust?" she asked.

It sounded silly when she said it that way and I couldn't explain the reasons for it but the sight of her chest with a snot-filled tissue on it filled me with agonizing senses of disgust, anxiety, and rage. The sensations were always there and could hang on long after I departed from her company.

I became afraid to look at Mom. I didn't want her to angrily ask, "What're ya looking at, Teen?" nor did I want to be sickened by the sight of her defiantly befouled breasts nor did I want to have a tissue with snot on it shaken in my face. So when she would speak to me, I would automatically turn my head away to avoid a fight so mother-daughter talks were often made to the back of my head.

Sometimes dirty tissues even invaded my dreams. I don't recall any other details of the dream only that a woman was in front of me and suddenly pulled a crumpled Kleenex out of her breasts and shook it in my face.

My mother decided I was "neurotic about Kleenexes" and enjoyed playing on what she saw as my hang-up. Of about junior high school age, I was in the bathtub and Mom was in the bathroom with me. In her underwear, she sat on the closed toilet seat. She blew her nose on a tissue.

"Mom, please don't put that in your bra," I begged.

"I won't," she said and promptly put it into her panties at the crack of her ass.

A feeling instantly went through me like acid thrown at the back of my head and whipping down my spinal column. "Mother!" I shrieked. "Don't stick it there!"

"I've got to stick it somewhere," she said, apparently enjoying my distress.

Sometimes my Dad got in on the act. The three of us were gathered around the table for dinner and I was staring, my stomach doing flip-flops, at the irregular bulge at the top of my mother's chest.

"What do you think is in there?" Dad asked me, a smile across his face, clearly amused by my discomfort. 

I couldn't say anything.

"I bet there's a Kleenex in there," he said, smiling more broadly. "How much you want to bet?" he asked, offering his hand across the table for a shake. 

I just looked miserably from him to Mom and down at my food as it grew cold.

On another occasion, Dad seemed to take my side.

I stared at Mom's chest area and complained, "It's disgusting."

"You hear that, Bill," Mom said sarcastically. She mimicked, "'It's disgusting.' You can't even see it but 'it's disgusting.'"

Dad looked exasperated. "Honey, somebody's going to have to give a little," he said to Mom.

She pulled the used tissue out of the top of her bra and flung it on the floor as she said to me, "You make my life hell!"

I could not understand her bitterness. When I begged her to throw away a tissue with snot on it, it was as if I was demanding she give up a pint of blood. How much was the little bit left on the tissue worth anyway? How much money was being saved?

At the same time this was going on, I was also finding used tissues in other places and throwing them away. Mom or Dad would wonder where a soiled tissue had gone and I always experienced an overwhelming sense of awkwardness and irrational guilt. Was I really doing something bad? But those things had snot on them, waste from inside the body, I told myself. People don't save toilet paper for re-use, why should they save other tissues? They were dirty and supposed to be thrown away.

My house was frequently the scene of screaming fights because my parents realized that their soiled tissues were being discarded. "You're wasting money!" Mom would shout. Dad told me, "Tina, when you see a Kleenex around that's not yours, you keep your hand off it!" 

Of course, there were other things going on at my house besides saving tissues and fighting over it although that is the focus of this essay. To understand the whole picture, and how my mother's befouled breasts contributed to my disability, I have to say something about my entire upbringing. 

Mother has told me I was a good child until age five. I had been easy to care for and friendly. She says, and I well recall, that I began having problems in kindergarten, difficulties cooperating and showing a stubborn streak. Other children disliked me and I became one of those children habitually teased. 

Disabling emotional problems commenced when I hit puberty. Mom started to go very heavy on man-hating messages. "Fartin' men!" she said when I told her about a man who cheated on his wife. Other times: "He was a typical, beastly man," "You see what men will do to ya," "You see how they'll do."

At the same time, Mom also hit hard on anti-feminist messages as this was the time when the Women's Liberation movement broke and she strongly opposed it as it seemed to be shouting "Get a job!" when she had her hands full as a housewife. Mom was eager to tell me about how a woman had failed at a non-traditional job or endeavor and praised discrimination in favor of men. Among her statements: "I think men should be at the head of everything," "He asked if a man could do it better and he said 'yes!'" "I thought there is something different about this church and then I realized the men are in charge at this church. I've been in churches where the women just come in and take over but the men are in charge at this church. That's the way I like it!"

I was attending tradition-oriented churches so I was subjected to an almost constant diet of confused "submit to men/hate men" messages. Mom bragged to a friend, "Tina's not going to get interested in boys. I've poisoned her against them." She also hated "women's libbers" because "a lot of 'em are queers!" Both male homosexuality and lesbianism were spoken of in our home as things almost monstrous. 

As I result of the inundation of sex-role cross-signals, I began experiencing fits of rage. I kept it inside, or thought I did, but couldn't concentrate or respond properly to the "here-and-now" because of the feeling that a battle was being fought inside me. It was horrible to go off into these fits and I finally worked up the courage to express my anguish to Mom. 

I had just suffered through a rage. I found her in the kitchen with my brother Alan, then a toddler. Terribly anxious, I said, "Mom, why do you always tell me bad things about men? Why are you always trying to get me mad at them?"

"I guess that's the way I told you because that's the way my mother always told me," she replied, "and I've heard other women say things like that."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," I said.

But of course she didn't stop anymore than she would stop befouling her breasts with snot-dirtied tissues: her mother had done it. 

The battle of the dirty Kleenexes was fought from the time I was in junior high school until I was away at college. Mom asked me why I didn't want to come home for a weekend visit. I told her it was because I couldn't stand always seeing dirty Kleenexes around.

"When I was growing up," Mom said, "my mother taught me that we were supposed to save every little thing."

I went home that weekend. She had finally decided that the comfort and company of her daughter were more important than the one-hundredth of a penny she might save by reusing tissues.

While the compulsive saving of snot-defiled tissues stopped when I was in my mid-twenties, the results lasted for much longer. 

At one lengthy point in my life, I became fixated on my breasts. As is common among women, I focused on their size. Like my mother's, mine were small, even smaller than hers. They disappeared under clothes. I obsessed over the lack of anything that could fill me out. However, I couldn't bring myself to wear falsies or padded bras because that seemed like false advertising. 

I couldn't stand to wear bras that fastened in the back because they reminded me of Mom's.

My breasts were about the size of cherries, just bumps of loose flesh around the nipples. I had a steady boyfriend, Tom, and we decided on an open relationship. We had not had penile-vaginal intercourse. I had firmly decided that I never wanted children and equally firmly knew I did not want an abortion on my conscience so I remained a virgin to vaginal sex until I underwent a tubal ligation at the age of twenty-four.

Desperate to attract men, I went through a period when I not only went braless but usually wore see-through blouses. If I wasn't showing my breasts off, I was nervously self-conscious about their invisibility. 

I was able to develop a little because a young woman told me that her breasts had grown when she went on the Pill. I started on the Pill (while still abstaining from vaginal intercourse) and sure enough, the cherries filled out a bit and became lemon-sized. Tom was pleased. "They used to feel kind of empty," he remarked. "Now they feel more spongy."

My self-consciousness about their size remained constant for years even though I received assurance from a variety of men that I was indeed sexually attractive. I did not connect my breast fixation with my mother's breast defilement until I talked about the Kleenexes to a counselor who said, "Breast issues" and I saw the link. I was desperate to prove that my breasts were something lovely and desirable rather than a place to keep something dirty. I wanted to know that being a woman did not mean being a walking trashcan.

These days, I am pretty happy with my breasts. I have had breast augmentation. It was very expensive. It was also worth it. The doctor took me to what I consider exactly the right level because I can fill a C-cup and show off cleavage when I want to but I am not so top-heavy that my breasts will automatically show themselves off if I choose to downplay them. Unlike most large-breasted women my age, I can also enjoy the comfort of going braless most of the time since they don't sag. To this day, I can only stand to wear bras that fasten in the front, a type Mom did not wear and that don't remind me of dirty tissues.

I have also tried to understand my mother's behavior. As with her man-hating messages, in her compulsive saving she was being loyal to her own mother whom she has always regarded as a good woman. Mom was raised in a rural area during the Great Depression when many people developed a fixation on saving. The sort of saving could become obsessive as it did for my grandmother who inculcated it into my mother. That saving often meant defeating something's purpose. Mom saved and reused cotton balls that she had used to clean her face with astringent even though instead of really cleaning her skin, she was rubbing the dirt back into it. Similarly, the Kleenex was invented to replace the handkerchief so people could get rid of the germs that caused colds and other minor illnesses. The original slogan under which it was sold was, "Why carry a cold in your pocket?"

While I have attempted to see my mother's side, I cannot accept it even though I can to some extent understand it. There is nothing that can make me believe I deserved to have dirty tissues waved in my face. The comfort of her child should have been more important to her than the tiny amount of money she believed she was saving. Her compulsion contributed to my developing the disability that has robbed me of much of the earning potential I would have had as a psychologically healthy person. Compulsive saving can lead to awesome waste.



My Mother's Bondage Phantasy



Hello, let me introduce myself. My name is Jeff. I'm a 21 year old Computer Science student, currently in my third year. I still live at home with my mother, Heather. Dad doesn't live here, because him and mom divorced a couple of years ago.

My mom is 41 years old, about 5.3' tall, brown hair, petite kind of body. She prides herself on her body, because she works really hard to keep it in shape. Apart from the usual gym classes and daily jogging, she is also very health conscious when it comes to food. She is a firm believer that good food equates to good health, which is one of the most valuable things to have. So, from my point of view, she struck me as a very wholesome, balanced person. This perception was about to change radically.

I stayed over at my girlfriends house quite a bit (including night time), which was nice, because we had more privacy at her parents house. On this particular evening, my girlfriend and I had a big fight, so I decided to come home early. I left her house at 10:00PM, and arrived at our house around 10:30PM. I drove into the driveway, and got out of the car. I then went into the house, hanging up my jacket in the front hall closet. I took off my shoes, and then tiptoed up the stairs, as I did not want to wake my mother. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard some sounds coming from my mothers bedroom, so I assumed she was still up. I was about to turn left towards my bedroom, when I heard a low, long moan coming from her bedroom. At first I thought it might be because she was in pain, so I walked towards her bedroom door. But then I heard the moan again, this time louder, and more throaty. I then realized that this was a moan a woman would make when she is sexually aroused.

The right thing to do in such a situation would have been for me to turn around and walk towards my room, except I couldn't. The thought of my mother engaged in sexual activity fascinated me...I stayed and listened. The moans were getting louder. I heard other voices as well, and realized that the TV was on. She seemed to be watching something on TV, and she was pleasuring herself while watching it. I could feel lust rising in me..imagining my mother playing with her pussy, possibly using a dildo, wanting something big and hard in her vagina. Her moans were getting louder and louder now...the bed beginning to creek in a slow rhythm. The creeking got faster and faster, until I heard a wail coming from her bedroom....and then silence. My guess was that she had just had an orgasm, and was now resting in her bed, satisfied.

I quickly retreated to my room, and closed the door. I practically ripped off my clothes, and started to stroke my cock, which had gotten rock hard, thinking of my mother, thinking of her pussy, wanting to violate her, to take her, to satisfy my lust in her. Just a minute later I came, my cock spewing my hot seed into the bathroom sink. Still unsatisfied, I got into bed, trying to sleep. It took me a long time to fall asleep, what with all the lude images of my mother circling in my head.

The next morning, I went down to the kitchen to make myself breakfast. There was my mother, all prim and proper, ready for work. "Hi Mom" I said as I kissed her on the cheek. "How did you sleep Honey" she asked me. "Okay" I lied, and started to drink my coffee. "Listen, I have to stay at work about an hour longer today at work" she told me. "Dinner is in the fridge, so just help yourself" she said. She gave me a peck on the cheek, and left the house to go to work. I also had to leave, but knowing that she was going to be an hour late coming home, I was going to do some investigating when I got home.

The day at university was a blurr. All I could think of was what I had heard last night. Finally, my last class was over, and I rushed home. I threw my things down in the hallway, and then rushed up to her bedroom. I entered, and looked around. All neat and tidy, no trace of anything out of the ordinary. I went over to the TV, and turned it on. I saw a blank blue screen, which meant that she must have been watching a DVD yesterday. I pressed the "Eject" button on the DVD player, and out came a DVD labeled "Advanced Yoga - Ashtang method". I examined it more closely, and noticed that this label had been put on top of the original label. I inserted the DVD into the player, and made sure I noted the current location. Then I sat down on the bed, and pressed "Play".

What I saw next blew me away. I saw women in various states of bondage, being abused, objects stuffed in their pussies, men forcing their cocks into their abused pussies, fucking them hard and rough, while the women, gagged and bound, moaned and writhed under this abuse, but seemed to be enjoying it! My mother gets aroused by this, I thought to myself. My prim and proper, sometimes boring mother is phantasizing about being bound and used! The more I watched, the more fascinated and aroused I became. Suddenly I heard a noise downstairs! Oh God, the hour had already passed, she was home! I hurriedly put the DVD back to the original location, then hurried out of her room, back into mine. I closed the door, and immediately began to stroke again, thinking of my mother, of wanting to force myself in her pussy! In the middle of my stroking, she knocked on the door, saying "Honey, I'm home!" in her sweet mother voice. "Uh...okay..uuunghh...mom!" I stammered as my cock began to twitch again, unloading another load of cum!

I cleaned myself up, then went downstairs, and we had dinner together. We chatted, as we always do, about what we had experienced during the day. Except this time I didn't see my mother across the table, but a whore that needed to be filled with cock, and fucked, and used for my pleasure. I had a hard time (literally) controlling myself. After dinner, we watched a bit of TV, then we both went to bed. I couldn't sleep, of course, and was thinking of what to do next. I could just ignore what I had seen and heard, but that ship had sailed, there was no way back. No, I was going to do the unthinkable: I was going to indulge in my mothers phantasy!

The next day, after she had gone to work, I stayed home, skipping all of my classes. I read up on the topic of bondage, and made a list of all the things I would need for my plan. Then I went to a sex store, and bought the various items that I had made a list of earlier. I returned home, and hid them under my mothers bed. I had made up my mind that tonight would be the night that I would make my mothers phantasy come true.

She came back home in the evening, and we did the same thing we do every night: dinner, a bit of TV, then off to bed. I knew that she liked to read a little bit before going to sleep, so I gave her about 15 minutes. Then I left my room, and walked towards hers. I briefly grappled with my concience, but then dismissed it. I reached her door. I put my hand on the door handle. Last chance to turn back. Without hesitation, I opened the door, then closed it behind me. Sure enough, my mother was in bed, reading a book, dressed in a nightie. She looked a little bewildered, but not alarmed. "Jeff...what are you doing here? Is everything okay?", she asked, pulling the comforter over her breasts, covering them discreetly. "Oh, it will be soon" I replied. I went up to the bed, reached under it, pulled out the bag of supplies I had deposited there earlier, and threw it on the bed. Then I reached for the comforter, and started pulling it away. "Jeff!...What are you doing!" my mother said, somewhat alarmed. "Helping you with your phantasy" I said, as I pulled the comforter off the bed. 

I reached for the bag, and pulled out a gag. My mother was now protesting loudly. I pushed her back into the bed, and pinned her down. Then I took the gag, and forced it in her mouth, fastening the straps behind her head. "Mmmmmmmm!....MMMMMMMMMM!!" was all I heard. While keeping her pinned down, I got some rope out of the bag, and tied her hands behind her back. "MMMMMMMMM!...MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!" she protested, her eyes wide with fear, twisting and turning, trying to escape. I took her nightie, and practically tore it off her body. She was now naked, except for her underwear. I pinned her down on her back, then proceeded to tie her up. I kept her hands behind her back. I then tied her legs up. First I tied rope to one of her legs, just over the knee. I threaded this rope under her back, then tied it to the other knee. She was now spreadeagled, but her feet were still kicking, so I tied each foot down to the top part of the thigh of the same leg. I then ripped off her panties, and tossed them aside, revealing her neatly trimmed pussy. She was now lying on the bed, on her back, legs spread, ready to be abused!

I reached into the bag, and pulled out a vibrator. I showed it to her, then turned it on. Her eyes were wide again, looking at me, pleading "Mmmmmmmmm...MMMMM!..MMMMMMMMMM!!", shaking her head back and forth. I moved to between her legs. Then I took the vibrator, and gently touched the outer lips of her pussy. "MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!" she cried out, tring to twist away, but I held her in place. I started to circle the outer lips of her pussy, letting her feel the vibrations. She moaned loudly, head moving from side to side. But this was a moan of protest, not yet one of lust. But this just spurred me on more. I circled closer and closer, moving the dildo on to her lips, and then, slowly moving it up and down, in between her lips, careful not to touch her clit. She has stopped moaning now, accepting the inevitable. 

She lay there quite for a little while, then let out a "mmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!", a long breath, almost like a sigh, as I moved the dildo up and down her pussy lips. I could see moisture forming, slickness starting to build. She had her head sideways, not looking at me, but also not protesting. I took the dildo, and started to circle it around her clit, making sure not to touch her clit. I could hear her breath coming faster now, short little breaths, "hhh!...hhh!..hhhh!". I could also see an increase in wetness. Then, she tried to move her hips, trying to get the dildo to make contact with her clit. Her breaths were shorter and faster. Then I took the dildo, and gently pressed it on her clit. "mmmmmmm!!!....mmmMMMMMMMM!!" she moaned as she felt it on her clit, a loud moan, a moan of lust! "Do you like the feel of it on your clit mom?" I said, already knowing the answer. I pulled it away again, and she moaned, this time in protest, wanting more of it, trying to push her groin up to catch the dildo, to feel it on her clit. I circled her clit once more, loving how aroused she now was, not having any control over what her pussy craved, needing more, so much more! I took the dildo, and placed it on her clit again..."MMMMMMM!!". She was trying to close her legs, but couldn't. I pressed the dildo between her pussy lips, then, using my fingers, I partially closed the lips over the dildo, moving it up and down in between the lips. She let out a long, loud moan, arching her head back, her eyes open wide, looking at the headboard. I was giving my mother sexual pleasure, having aroused her against her will, her pussy now in charge of her body.

I took the dildo, then slowly moved the tip down in between her lips, to the entrance of her pussy. I rotated the dildo, so it was pointing at her pussy, and then I began to slide it into her vagina, deeper and deeper! She moaned even louder as she felt it go in. I pulled it out, then pushed it in again, going deeper each time, as her moaning increased. Then I pulled it out of her, and briefly touched her clit with it. Her hips bucked! Now I alternated between inserting it into her pussy, and pulling it out to stimulate her clit. Then I started to push the dildo in and out of her, faster and faster, at the same time stimulating her clit with my finger. She started to moan to the rhythm of the dildo thrusts, faster and faster! She was turning her head from side to side, moaning faster, louder! And suddenly it happened! She went quite for about a second, then started squeeling as her hips began to buck wildly, and her pussy began to squirt! It caught me totally by surprise as I saw her in the throws of a powerful orgasm, her pussy squirting all over the place!

As I watched my mother caught helplessly in this orgasm, I ripped off my clothes. I needed to satisfy my lust right now! I got between her legs, her body still shivering and shaking from the orgasm she just had. I put the tip of my cock to the entrance of her pussy. In her orgasmic state, I don't even think she was aware that I was mounting her. I supported myself on my arms, and then I THRUST!! She moaned again loudly as she felt another intruder in her pussy! She looked up, and saw my face looking down at her. That's when she realized who the intruder was: it was her sons cock!! "MMMMMMM!!....MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!" she groaned as I started to thrust into her, violating her pussy, forcing my cock deeper inside, stretching her wide open! Her pussy felt so hot and tight! I needed desparately to satisfy my lust in my mothers pussy, to force myself on her, to fuck her into submission! I thrust hard into her, going even deeper, spearing her open! Finally I was all the way inside her tight pussy! She moaned again loudly as I forced the last bit of my cock into her abused vagina.

I was now mad with lust. I began to hammer my cock into my helpless mother, ramming it deep into her pussy, fucking her like an animal, only intent on satisfying myself in her abused body, needing to breed her, to deposit my seed deep in her belly! She was moaning loudly, at times making gutteral animalistic sounds, throwing her head from side to side, bucking her hips. She was at the mercy of my cock, her body responding to my thrusts, as I rammed her faster and harder! I could feel my cum begin to rise! I fucked her mercilessly, needing to cum, needing to relieve my lust in her, wanting to make her mine! Finally my cock began to twitch! My head was bent back in pure pleasure, an animalistic snarl on my face as my cock began to cum inside my mothers pussy, filling her with my hot seed, groaning in pure pleasure as I completed the violation of my mother, making her submit to the power of my cock! Her pussy sensed that it was being bred, and it started to convulse around my cock, as my mother wailed helplessly, powerless to stop it, knowing that she had to submit to this cock that was breeding her!

I thrust a few more times, depositing the last few spurts of my seed inside my mother. Then I pulled my cock out of her, and got up. I looked at her, my cock still erect and powerful as I stood there. I was now satisfied, knowing that her pussy was mine. I got back on the bed, and proceeded to untie her. Then I pulled the gag out of her mouth. She immediately began to cry. I got behind her, spooning her, comforting her, whispering softly to her. "There there...it's okay...it's okay". After a while she stopped crying.

"Why? Why did you do this to me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry mom, but I..well..I had to come home early the other night, and I kind of..well...heard you...as you were pleasuring yourself. It turned me on so much. And the next day, I saw the DVD in the DVD player...and when I saw what was on the DVD, I was overcome with lust."

"But it was just a phantasy...I never thought..." she said, trailing off.

"Well, I thought it was the hottest thing I had ever seen" I said to my mother. "You're so sexy, and I love you so much. I've never come so hard in a woman before".

"Really? You came hard inside me? And you think I'm sexy? Do you really mean that?"

"Yes mom, I do. You're so sexy and wonderful....Mom, I want you...I want to own you..I want you to give me pleasure whenever I desire it."

"Oh baby, I would love that...to be owned by you. No man has ever fucked me like you just did...you made me squirt..twice! That's never happened to me before. I want more of that..I want to worship your cock...I want you to rule me with your cock."

"I intend to do just that mom...I'm going to train you to give me pleasure...I'm going to make you my whore." I said, smiling.

"Oh yes please...your whore...to use and abuse anytime you want...What about your girlfriend? What is she going to say?"

"Well mom, things haven't been great between us lately anyway, so it won't be a problem to end it with her. I want you only...I want my my sexy whore".

"Mmmmm, I love the sound of that" my mom said, snuggling up to me, as we both started drifting off to sleep.

Needless to say, I never did move out of our house, and for the last several years we've both been living out our insatiable appetite for sexual gratification.



My Mother’s Boyfriend



I am a librarian at the Corpus Christi Public Library and I do my job very well. Usually I ignore the younger girls who volunteer, because all they ever talk about are how cute some of the men that come in are. But there was only one man that had ever piqued my interest. Connor Davidson. The first time I saw him I barely had a glimpse of him. All that I saw was a glimpse of his profile, his midnight black hair and a broad back as he walked out the door. It was enough for me to know that I wanted to see more. The next time he came in I was speechless. He was so handsome it was all I could do not to stare. 

That day I happened to be stacking books in the fiction section when he brushed past me. It was as if my whole body filled with this electric current as his arm brushed against mine. It was impossible not to take notice of him. He wasn’t gorgeous and none of the other girls drooled over him like they did over some of the other male patrons. But he was handsome in a way that put all those other men to shame. He had this incredibly thick black hair that was always tousled and falling into his crystal blue eyes, as if he was always running his fingers through it. There were little flecks of gray sprinkled through it, giving credence to the fact that he was quite a bit older than I. He had sharp, angular features that were defined by the little lines by his mouth and under his eyes. But when he smiled those lines disappeared and he seemed infinitely younger than I guessed him to be. I had never in my life been attracted to an older man, but oh, how I wanted Connor.

The next week he came back in returning a couple of mystery books that were long overdue. I shoved Sherry out of the way, just like I did every time Connor came to the counter, so that I could be the one to talk to him, even if it was just to assist him in paying his late fees or check out books.

“Hi, how are you today?” I asked him, trying to keep my voice from squeaking. I could feel a blush starting to stain my cheeks as he stared at me. It was unnerving, because for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds, he just stared at me. It was as if he was reading me somehow. 

“Fine,” he finally answered abruptly, dragging his gaze from mine. “How much do I owe?”

Flustered, I looked down at the computer and quickly scanned the library card that he placed on the counter. I scanned the books and told him the total. He pulled out the money and as I went to take it from him, our hands brushed lightly. I grabbed the money and was about to snatch back my hand when he grabbed my wrist. I could feel his touch course through me. I started shaking and couldn’t hide the fact that I was so attracted to him. I looked away but his other hand came up and caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. Thank god there was no one else in line, otherwise people would have been staring. As it was, all the other librarians were just standing there watching this little scene unfold, their mouths gaping slightly.

“I’ve seen you watching me,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough, just like him.

I shook my head no, tried to tell him that he was mistaken, but the words wouldn’t come out. My lips refused to utter the lie.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve seen you. That day that I brushed against you, you stiffened so fast I could tell the effect that my touch had. You were fair trembling with desire. It was a beautiful sight to behold. I’ve never seen such an innocent touch have such an affect. I want you to have dinner with me. Tonight. I’ll meet you here,” he said, slipping a small business card across the counter. “Eight o’clock. Don’t be late, Marian.” 

I looked at him with startled eyes. How did he know my name? He let go of my wrist, and I rubbed it, still feeling the lingering throb that his touch had caused. He laughed lightly at the gesture before walking out the door. 

It took me a moment to compose myself I was shaking so hard. When I turned around, I had the business card clutched in my hand. Sherry and Jan were just staring at me. I was about to go in back when they came out of the shocked states and huddled around me. 

“Did you see the way he grabbed her wrist and chin?” Sherry twittered nervously. “I thought he was going to hurt her?”

“Where does he want to meet you, Marian?” Jan asked, her voice full of curiousity.

Her question reminded me that I had yet to glance at the card I was clutching so tightly in my fist. I looked at it. It was a business card for a small Italian restaurant on South Padre Island.

“Lordy, child,” Jan said in her motherly way, “I thought you two were going to spontaneously combust you were creating so much heat.” She fanned herself dramatically to prove her point.

“I don’t know what just happened. I’m kind of dazed.” 

“Well no wonder. You were shaking like a leaf. The second he grabbed your wrist you started trembling,” Sherry said.

“So are you going to meet him?” Jan pressed.

I didn’t know what to say. How had he known my name? Was I going to go? How would I face him again if I didn’t? I didn’t know what to do. It was Jan who helped me make up my mind.

“Honey, you need to go. He asked about you a couple of days ago on your day off. I watched you watching him every time he came in, so I told him your name. And obviously he saw you too, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked. You shouldn’t deny yourself something you know you want. Forget the age difference. He’s probably only about fifty at most.”

“Forty-four,” I whispered softly. “I took a peek at his birthday on the computer.”

“See. There’s only an eighteen year difference between you.” I looked at her like she was crazy and she seemed to realize that it was a pretty big age gap. “Okay, so it is a big difference. But who cares. You’re attracted to him right?”

I nodded affirmatively.

“Then go out with him. It’s been ages since you’ve dated. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” 

I couldn’t think of anything right then. Little did I know I was about to find out tonight.

When I got off of work at five o’clock, I raced home, desperate to take a bath and get ready for my date. When I walked in the door my mother was sitting at the kitchen table perusing the newspaper. “You’re home early,” she said. I usually didn’t get home until around seven. 

“Jan sent me home early. I have a date.”

I could see the shock on her face. It was plain as day. I haven’t had a date in over six months so this was kind of out of the blue for her.

“With who?” she managed to ask.

“His name is Connor. I met him at the library.”

“Connor, huh? I’m dating someone by that name.” 

I knew this already, though. We share everything. Even though she is my mother, she is more like my big sister. She had me at a very young age. She was seventeen when she became pregnant. My father left and she raised me herself. Thinking about it, I realized that she was the same age as Connor. What a coincidence. I should have thought more of it than I did, but how could I have known what lay in store for me later.

I got ready leisurely, enjoying a nice long bubble bath. I shaved my legs and used strawberry smelling shampoo and conditioner. When I got out of the tub, I wrapped myself in my warm terrycloth robe and went to my room to do my hair. I hate my hair. It’s really curly and it hangs down to the middle of my back. I wish it were blond, like my mom’s. She has this incredible long, thick, straight golden blond hair that shimmers in the sunlight. My mousy brown curls make me seem so…drab. Determined to look anything but drab, I pulled the errant curls back from my face and up into a loose chignon leaving just a few curls tumbling around my face and nape.

I wore my best dress, which isn’t saying much. It was a plain white sheath with spaghetti straps. It doesn’t sound like much, but it clings to every curve of my body. I usually don’t like to wear it, because it emphasizes the fact that I’m not stacked, but I figured Connor wouldn’t notice. I pulled on the small bolero jacket that went over the top and a pair of white sandals. 

Kissing my mother goodnight, I walked out the door. It doesn’t take long to get from Corpus Christi to South Padre Island. I was there a good fifteen minutes before eight, but Connor still somehow managed to be there waiting. 

I walked through the door of the restaurant, glancing around in search of him. The hostess inquired if I was meeting someone and I said yes. I was about to say that he must not be here yet, when I spotted him sitting at the bar. 

He was wearing a charcoal gray suit with a white dress shirt underneath. His hair was slicked back, something different for him, and he stood, tall and erect and came to greet me. He lifted my hand to his mouth and gently touched it with his lips.

The small touch took my breath away. I gasped slightly and his eyes shot up to meet mine. It was as if no one else in the world existed. In all my twenty-six years I’d never felt that kind of instant connection to anyone.

“Shall we sit?” he asked softly, placing my hand in the crook of his arm.

“Please,” I answered politely.

The hostess led us to our table and Connor pulled out my chair for me. He was such a gentleman. It was a nice change from the boys that I usually dated. They wouldn’t know what the word meant.

He ordered a nice Merlot when the waitress came. She lit a small candle in the center of the table before going to fetch our wine. For several minutes we just sat there, gazing at each other over the candle. It was one of the most erotic moments I ever experienced, just sitting there, not saying a word, looking into his soul. I was shaken when the connection was severed by the reappearance of the waitress.

She poured the wine and took our orders after we perused the menu for a moment. We found that we shared similar tastes in food as we both ordered a small Caesar salad and a plate of fettuccini alfredo with blackened chicken.

As we waited for our food, Connor took my hand in his. Every touch was like a spark that sent an inferno of desire blazing through me. It was as if he knew this and he stoked the inferno by rubbing his thumb over my wrist, feeling my pulse increase under his soft caresses. I knew in that instant, when I looked into his eyes, that I was going to be his. I was certain of it. He was preparing me for what lay ahead. 

When the food arrived we ate and talked about our lives. I had more in common with him, than I ever expected to. We liked the same books and authors. We enjoyed staying home in front of a warm fire. Neither of us liked being around a lot of people, preferring to have a few close friends. We enjoyed the same music and both had a huge appreciation for art and theatre. I was in awe of some of the places he traveled to, places that I have wanted to go my whole life. When he promised that he would take me anyplace I wished to go, butterflies began to dance in my stomach. This was moving so fast. I couldn’t be falling in love with him. But I felt like it. I wanted to spend every second in his company. I wanted to be cherished by him for the rest of my life. I wanted more than anything to wake up each morning with him by my side. And I think he saw that in my eyes. 

Right after the waitress cleared our dishes, he leaned forward and caressed my cheek softly, cupping it in his palm. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel when he said, “I feel the same way, Marian.”

My eyes shot open in surprise, but I didn’t have a chance to say anything. His lips slowly brushed mine in a feather-light kiss that sent my senses reeling. For a moment I couldn’t move, but I slowly began to respond, placing my hands softly against his cheeks, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. I don’t know how long it went on, but the waitress interrupted us by clearing her throat. 

She smiled as she placed the bill on the table. Connor paid, insisting that it was the way things should be done. After all he’d been the one to ask me out. I agreed, but only if I could pay for our next date.

He smiled, and it hit me. Next date. So this was going to become something. I guess I knew that from the beginning, but I’ve never been controlled by my desire for someone. It was frightening.

As we made our way out of the restaurant, I asked him if he would like to come over. I knew what I was doing at this point. Mom was going to be out on a date and the house was empty. It wouldn’t hurt anything. 

“Are you sure you want me to come over, Marian? It’s only our first date. I don’t want to rush you.” His arms came around me, and there in the middle of the parking lot, he pulled me close. The second our bodies touched it was as if fireworks went off around us. His eyes darkened, passion blazing in their depths. I gasped as I felt desire coursing through me, nearly sending me to my knees. I held on tight to him, my arms draped loosely around his neck. 

I was ready for his kiss. And when he swooped down and claimed my lips with his, I responded with everything in me. I pressed myself against him, wanting to become one with him, as his hands began to wander up and down my back and over my butt. They rested there for a moment, squeezing slightly. His tongue dipped into my mouth, tangling with my own and as it did, he pulled my lower body tight against his so that I could feel how much he wanted me.

It went on forever. It ended too soon. He pulled away first, gasping for breath. I rested my head on his chest as we stood there, trying to gain some sort of equilibrium. He reached up and took my chin in his hand, tipping my head up. “I want you, Marian. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

“Come home with me, Connor. I know what I’m doing. I want you just as much.”

“Do you want to drive your car, or should we take mine, and I’ll run you back here for yours tomorrow?”

I pulled away from him, hoping that my knees would hold up. “Why don’t you follow me. It will be easier on you that way.”

With one last quick kiss we separated and got into our own cars. The drive wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been able to concentrate on the road. But I kept having flashes in my head about what the night was going to bring. My body was humming with desire. By the time I got home I was quaking with repressed emotion. I wanted him. Not just his body. I wanted his heart. 

I got out of my car and before I knew what was happening Connor swept me up in his arms and started toward the front door. I noticed my mom’s car in the driveway, but figured her date drove. Connor was kissing me passionately as I tried fumbling with my purse to find my keys. When I finally had them in my hand I pulled away from Connor for just a moment to unlock the door, but was surprised when the door opened from the inside.

There was my mom, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, wearing a black and red kimono. She was staring at me as if I was some alien from another planet, but when she looked at Connor her whole expression changed.

“Connor?” she said quietly, a question in her voice.

“Miranda.” 

It was then that it hit me. While they were staring at each other, too stunned to speak, I realized that the Connor my mom was dating was the same one I had planned to spend the night with. The one I had given my heart to. I launched myself out of Connor’s arms so fast I nearly fell when my feet hit the ground. That broke the spell. He reached out to steady me, but I pulled away from his grasp. Tears slipped from my eyes, even as I tried to hold them in. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. It was like a really bad soap opera.

“Marian,” he whispered softly. “I didn’t know…”

“And that’s supposed to make it better. You’re dating my mom!”

“I was planning on breaking it off. I met you and my whole world turned upside down. I couldn’t tell which way was up. I …”

At this point my mother burst in the conversation. “You were planning on breaking it off so you could date my daughter! You scumbag. I thought you were a gentleman, but you’re just a lecher. My god, she’s practically young enough to be your daughter!”

“She’s perfect for me, Miranda. In every way that counts. Age doesn’t matter.”

“She’s not going anywhere near you ever again. I forbid it”

The yelling was giving me a headache and making me feel even worse. I was going to sleep with my mother’s boyfriend. I fell in love with him. This was a nightmare. Their yelling got louder and louder and I couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Stop it, both of you!” I screamed. Connor looked at me and I could see the way he felt in his eyes, but I couldn’t be with him. He tried to touch me, to wipe away my tears, but my mother batted his hands away. 

“Don’t touch her. You were mine and she can’t have you.” I always knew my mom was selfish, like a little girl in a woman’s body. But I never really knew the extent of it. Until now.

“I’m not your possession, Miranda,” Connor snapped.

“Well your not going to be hers either. If I can’t have you, neither can she!” 

They went back and forth, hurling insults at each other. I could hardly believe they ever dated. They were so wrapped up in their argument that I managed to slip away quietly. I got into my car and started the engine. 

I saw Connor look up at me. Ignoring my mom he ran toward the car. Pressing my fingertips to the passenger window, I stepped on the gas and took off. I watched in the rear view mirror as Connor ran after me in the middle of the street, but I didn’t turn around.

I drove around for a while, not knowing where to go. Finally fatigue sent me to Sherry’s house. I rang her doorbell. It was one in the morning. 

She answered the door wielding a baseball bat for protection. But she dropped it the second she saw my mascara covered face.

“Oh…Marian! What happened?” She hugged me tight and dragged me inside. 

The whole night came spilling out of my mouth while I sobbed hysterically, crying on Sherry’s shoulder. She was really great about it. When I was done crying she told me that she would have Jan cover my shift for the week at work. I told her that I didn’t have anyplace to go so she told me I could stay with her. She was great.

The next day, after Sherry went to work, I went over to my house, knowing that my mom would be at work, and packed up all of my necessities and put them in the car. I was getting ready to pull out when she showed up. 

“What are you doing here, Marian?” she said, pure venom in her voice.

“I’m just getting my clothes and some other things of mine.” I couldn’t bear to look at her.

“I don’t want you coming back.”

“I know,” I replied sadly. 

“I bet you don’t know what a wonderful lover Connor is. He drove me wild in bed. But it takes a woman with experience to hold on to a man like him. Not some innocent little virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“But you don’t know how to keep a man like him. All you’ve ever dated are those intellectual geeks. Connor is a real man, with a real man’s needs. And he needs a real woman to satisfy them. Not some child.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had never known her to be so vindictive. It was all I could do not to cry again. “I’m leaving,” I said shakily as I got into the car.

“Don’t bother to come back.”

I drove away, sick to my stomach at the thought that I’d just lost everything that mattered to me. I didn’t have any other family. And now my mother and I would never speak to each other again.

The week was passing by so slowly. I spent my days watching television and writing in my journal. Finally after spending three days on her couch, Sherry dragged me up and told me that we were going out. Jan was coming over and it was going to be girls’ night out. 

She forced me to take a shower and afterwards she pulled my hair back in a loose bun and put some eyeshadow on my eyes. Finally she handed me a short, swingy black dress. Grudgingly I pulled it on, determined to enjoy this night, no matter how bad I was feeling. 




My Mother's Boyfriend



My Dad died in a car crash five years ago, and my Mom grieved for a few years, but when she met Steve I pushed her out the door. He was cute and they were good together. I mean, he is twenty years older than I am, and hung like a horse, and I occasionally did wonder what that would feel like. I heard my Mom screaming at night occasionally, and they weren't screams of pain. My mom worked as a nurse at the local hospital at night, and after I lost my virginity, I'd sleep naked and leave the door open just slightly at night, just to see what happened.

So, how did I end up having sex with Steve much less know he's hung like a horse? We wander around au natural, and Mom was at the hospital that night. I must have left my door open that night, because the house was really warm. Mom drew the line, it was October and the air conditioner was to remain off. So, the doors and windows remained open to circulate the air and I slept, naked, on top of the covers with a fan blowing over me. I awoke to hear Steve snoring in my chair, it was apparently cooler in my room than the one he shared with my Mom. I walked over to him and shook him awake, "Come on," I said, motioning to the bed, it was big enough for the both of us. We lay side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling.

"It's too hot," he said. Silently, I agreed. He got up and went back to his room, collecting more fans as he went. "Your Mom's not here, she's not going to disagree," he muttered as he set up the fans. Cooler air wafted across the bed and I sighed in relief. He rejoined me and I closed my eyes again. Fortunately, it was Friday and I didn't have school the next day. Unfortunately, Eli was out of town on a business trip, and I was left on my own. Steve rolled over onto his side and looked at me. He reached out and touched one of my breasts. "Your nipples are hard," he commented.

"My nipples aren't the only things that are hard," I said with a smile, looking at his manhood. He ran his hand to my breastbone and trailed his fingers downward. I shivered as they found my jewel. 

"Are you going to stop me?" he whispered, I shook my head no. He changed positions as he pulled my legs apart and buried his face down there. His tongue touched my clit and I shuddered. He chuckled as he licked it. I reached down and ran my fingers through his thick, blonde hair. He started sucking on it as two fingers joined in the fray, delving into my pussy. I gasped and found myself wiggling my hips. He slowly built up the number of fingers until all five assaulted my senses. I suppose he was getting me used to the idea of his enormous girth, but, honestly, nothing could have prepared me for that. I couldn't believe how fast he brought me to orgasm, but I started crying out and shaking soon after he started. He lapped up the juices as he pulled his fingers from my jewel.

Steve pulled himself out over my body and looked down into my eyes. He bent down and kissed me, his tongue assaulting my mouth like it had further down minutes before. This was a distraction I soon discovered, as his cock soon started invading my cunt. I gasped as I spread my legs even further apart. It was painful, I had never experienced anything like this, this big, I mean. He slowly pushed his way in, not letting go of my mouth. I was about to push him away when I felt his hips meet mine. He let go of my mouth and sat back. I lifted my upper body up onto my elbows and looked down. Sure enough, it was all in there. He also had something on the base of his cock that I couldn't quite make out. "What is that?" I asked.

He picked up my legs and put them on his shoulders, "It's my secret to making your Mom scream." He replied. He pulled out halfway and pushed back in. I grunted, he was stretching me wide, and it was still painful. He started at a slow pace, allowing me to get used to it. Soon, it became quite obvious that whatever it was he wore brushed up against my clit causing an even more tingly sensation. He pushed in and out, the sensations on my womanhood built quickly and soon, I seized up around him and found myself screaming in pleasure. He didn't stop, I didn't want him to. I wanted this more than anything, and I wanted his secret, Eli and I could use it. One orgasm followed another as he got faster and faster, finally, he looked down at me, "Should I pull out? I don't want you to get pregnant."

"No, my Mom put me on the pill when I was sixteen," I whispered. Suddenly, I was screaming once again as he grunted and pushed himself in as deep as he could go. I felt his seed flooding my womb. He collapsed on top of me as I felt his flaccid manhood slip out. He caressed the side of my face with a finger before he rolled over off of me. "Thank you," I whispered. "Now I know what all the fuss was about." 

He reached over and pulled something off the nightstand. It resembled a miniature brush, "A present for you and Eli. Trust me, you were contracting so much, it was like a massage. He'll love it as much as you do. We both fell asleep.

The next morning I tried it out on top. I gingerly let myself down his shaft, not letting myself stop, knowing what would happen at the end. I got to the end and let out a big sigh of relief. He grinned at me as I braced my arms against his chest and started to move. What I didn't know was that Mom had just gotten home and was observing us from behind. The sensations didn't change and when I collapsed on top of him, I heard a chuckle. "So, you're a screamer too."

I glanced at Mom with a squeak. Steve merely shrugged as he rolled us over, "We have an open relationship." He informed me. I smiled, Eli and I had come to a similar decision, given the difference in our ages. Mom left us to our own devices as she went to take a shower. I just let Steve have his way with me. Mom came in as we both climaxed together. She walked over and slapped him on his ass before heading for their room. He grinned before he also left. I sighed, I couldn't compete with Mom. Eli was due back the next day, and I had homework to finish. Yes, Algebra is boring compared to sex, but I needed to keep my grades up.

I sighed, Eli made this make sense. Later in the afternoon, I paused to eat and watch some television. Out of the blue, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened it to find Eli standing outside. I flew into his arms, giving the neighbors quite a view, considering all I was wearing was a short nightshirt. He laughed, "Tough homework?"

I lead him into the kitchen where my books lay on the table. "Algebra is killing me. Hey, I'm going to be honest. Steve, my Mom's boyfriend, and I had sex last night." 

He smiled at me, he had the most wonderful smile, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"He gave me something to enhance our experience," I mumbled.

"Hmmm, we'll have to try it, after we get through Algebra." 

Somehow, we ended up in my room. The door was wide open and we were perched on top of my covers. He was still dressed, well, he'd taken off his shoes, but that was all. I was just performing my happy dance, I finally finished all of my homework, when Mom passed by, looking in bleary eyed. "Oh, hi Eli, I thought you'd be gone all weekend."

He glanced up at Mom, "It came to an end when the client walked out and refused to negotiate any more. So, I thought I'd help finish homework." 

Mom looked at me straightening up my books and seemed to come to a decision, "Have fun you two." The door closed behind her.

I dove for my dresser and pulled out Steve's gift. He laughed as he ran a hand up my thigh. I rolled over onto my back and showed him, "You put this on your penis, this side up, and it makes me scream."

"Well," he murmured, coming face to face with me, "we'll have to find some way to find to thank him." He kissed me passionately. My hands reached the waist of his pants and started pulling his shirt out of them. Eagerly, I unbuttoned his shirt pushing it down his arms. He pulled it off, breaking off the kiss to take everything off except his socks. He pulled me up into a sitting position and reached under my shirt to squeeze my breasts. I sighed as he pulled it off over my head. He lay down and I snuggled down next to him. I reached down and picked up his cock, stroking it with my fingers. He kissed my forehead, he never pressed me to go further than I was ready to go, but I knew he'd love a blow job. I finally got up and softly kissed the tip of his manhood. He reached down and ran his fingers through my unruly curls.

I finally worked up the courage to put it in my mouth. I ran my mouth down his length as far as it would go. My gag reflex kicked in and I had to go back up. I took it slowly, and it got deeper with each pass. I soon figured out the secret was suction. He moaned each time I reached the tip. I paid special attention to the tip, sucking it like a lollipop. It was soft and very slippery as I popped it in and out of my mouth. He took pity on me and told me to get off just before he let loose. I was fascinated by the viscous white fluid that came out of the tip.

He sat up and pulled me up to him, giving me a deep kiss. He laid me down on my back and started playing with my jewel. During this playtime we started hearing my mother moan. He looked up with a grin as the moans deepened, then turned into screams as Steve's own cries joined hers. "Okay, let's try this." He mumbled this as he managed to slip the brush onto his cock, making sure it was facing the right way. He settled between my legs and grinned as he slowly slipped it into my cunt. I sighed in anticipation. "Ready?" he asked just before he started moving.

"Oooooh God YEEEEESSS!!!!" I cried as the sensations started coming. The brush's assault on my clit combined with his pounding sent me crying over the edge. This came over and over again, I couldn't stop the screams as they came full-throated, and they mingled with his cries. I felt him move over and over again the only relief being when he pulled out. Finally, he let go, I felt him pouring his seed deep into my most secret place. He had enough presence of mind to roll off me before collapsing. I snuggled up next to him.

"We're definitely going to have to find some way to thank him," Eli said breathlessly. Mom's screams continued in the other room. "Good, God, how long can he last?"

I laughed, "I lost track of time." The last thing I heard was his chuckle as I slipped into sleep.



My Mother's Boyfriend



Author's Note: All Characters Are Eighteen Or Older.

*****

It was an unbelievable sight. Max squeezed my mother's C cup titties as he fucked her senselessly from behind. They were in my mother's bedroom. Standing next to the bed. All sweaty. All shiny. Jiggling wherever they could jiggle. My mother's back to his chest, the back of her head just inches away from his face, her moans and the sound of flesh slapping flesh ripping the silence of the house apart. If I didn't know any better, I would think that this was all some accident. Me catching them like this. But I know Max and there is no way he would have left the door open and not thought that I would catch them fucking. He wanted this to happen. The bastard. The sick perverted bastard. He wanted me to see him treat my mother like a prisoner treats a bitch. And he wanted me to see him see me. 

What an asshole. 

And to think, I had almost started liking him. 

I first met Max a little over six months ago. I had just turned eighteen and my mother decided that, because I would be moving out in a couple of years, it would be best to start dating so she could find someone by the time I did leave home and not have to live alone. 

"But, Mom," I said. "You're not gonna be alone. I'll always come and visit you."

"Yeah," she said. "But what about all the times you won't be here? You know how much I make. I won't be able to survive on just that alone. I need someone to help me pay the bills around here."

"I can still help you pay the bills."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can."

"How?"

"All I have to do is send you half my check and you should be good. Especially if I do get into the medical field."

"But, honey," my mother said. "What about your own bills? Won't it become too much to pay my bills and your bills at the same time."

"Not if I become a doctor," I said. "You know how much a doctor makes? Shit, I'll be able to take care of you and me with no problems."

"Honey," she said, trying her hardest not to get mad. 

She knew I was full of shit. There was no way in hell I would be able to pay off her bills and my bills at the same time and not have any trouble. And she knew that I knew that it would take me years to break into the medical field. First I'd have to go to college, which would take up a few years, then I'd have to find a job as an assistant in this economy, which, to be honest, wasn't great at the time, and then I'd have to work my way up in the business, and God knew how long that would've taken. But I had to try to convince her otherwise, even if I had to make up some bullshit on the spot. You see, I love my mother. She is the greatest woman I have ever known and all I wanted was for her to be happy. But the thought of her with another man other than my father (who had passed away a few years before that day-God rest his soul) irritated the fuck out of me. I guess it was that Freudian thing or something. I don't know. All I knew was that I didn't want her to date. I wanted her to stay single for the rest of her life and, hopefully, meet my father again in Heaven when she died. 

Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently so. Because a week later she told me she was going on a date with Max. 

"Who?"

"Max. This guy I met online."

"You met a guy online?"

I hadn't even known she had created an online profile. 

"Yes, silly. On the 'Milf lovers for Hunks' website. I met him last week and we've been hitting it off really nice. I think he might be the one."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. I just stood there, eyeing the black dress my mother was wearing, her hair, and her makeup, thinking: Oh, my god! "Milf Lovers For Hunks?" That's a hookup website. 

My mother was on a hookup website. What the fuck? 

Then I thought maybe she didn't know that it was a hookup website. Then I remembered that I had been on that website and it tells you straight up what its all about as soon as you click on the sign up page. 

Oh, my god, I thought again. She really was planning to hookup tonight. 

That thought didn't sit well with me. The image of my mother banging some guy really disgusted and stayed with me even after she kissed me and said goodbye. 

If that wasn't bad enough, three days after that, I met the bastard. 

My mother invited him over for dinner and before he even got there I was sensing there was something wrong with him. It wasn't just a biased thing with me. I really, genuinely sensed something wrong with him, but I didn't know what it was. So when he got there, I was on edge, shaking his hand firmly, keeping my eyes on him the whole time, trying to get a feel on who I was dealing with. 

Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything that first night. He was respectful and kind, even when I asked him if he'd gone to prison before. He made me want to apologize to my mother for having no faith in her quest to find a good guy to live with the rest of her life. 

Then he started to come over more often and I didn't feel like apologizing anymore. 

Don't get me wrong, Max never beat my mother or me or cheated on her or anything like that. I just didn't like the shit he did when I was around. Like tell me what her blowjobs felt like or tell me how much he enjoyed fucking her every chance he got or even comment about how my father was a loser for getting himself killed in a boating accident and leaving his hot sexy wife down here all alone with no one to fuck. And many, many more horrible things like that. 

Now, I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I just tell my mother about what was happening? Well, it's the same reason I didn't say anything when I stood outside the doorway, looking in at them fucking with frightened eyes, my hands shaking, my legs as stiff as a board. I mean, I wanted to walk away or scream angrily at them or something, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I was too afraid. Too much of a pussy. I didn't know if my mother would believe me about what's been going on or if she would just think it was a jealous son sort of thing and that me walking in on them was just an accident. 

Luckily my mom had a blindfold over her eyes. So I didn't have to worry about what she would do too much...as long as I stayed quiet. 

Max smiled at me as he continued to pound his huge thick cock into my mother's pussy and stuck his tongue out like he was some sort of rocker showing off to the audience. 

"Uh, yeah, Max!" my mother said. "Fuck me, baby. Fuck me! Make me your whore!"

"You got it, baby," he said. "You got it." He picked up speed, pounding into her harder, making even louder slapping noises than before. 

"Oh, yeah," my mother said. "Just like that. Keep it going. I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna fucking cum!"

Without realizing it, my cock had hardened against the front of my jeans at some point during this whole thing and I looked down at it as I felt pre-cum drip out of the head and down the underbelly of the shaft. 

Oh, my god, I thought. This is actually turning me on. What the hell?

Even though my mother was thin, had a nice bubble butt, a cute round face, short dirty blonde hair, and milky white skin, I had only seen her the way I thought every son saw their mother: As a beautiful woman who raised me and had no interest in things like sex. But now I was seeing her the way I would see a chick on the street or in a porno. I was seeing her as a sexual object. Something I could stick my dick into and actually get off with. 

All of a sudden, a deep voice inside my head yelled, "She's your mother, you idiot. You can't think of her like that."

Then another voice, just as deep as the first said, "Yes, you can. She's a woman. She has a pussy. It doesn't matter if she's your mother. Trust me. She's mine, too." 

The second voice seemed more trustworthy, so I decided to listen to it and ignore the other. I reached into my pants, got a good grip of my cock, then began jerking it off. 

Slowly at first, then faster and faster as time passed. 

Max loved the whole thing. Laughing quietly to himself, he let go of my mother's left breast, gave me an okay sign, then cupped my mother's breast again. 

My mother grunted. "Ugh, Max, your hand feels so good, darling. Squeeze my tits harder. Make milk come out of my tits."

Max shifted her and him over to the side a bit, then began squeezing her breasts even harder. 

My mother convulsed violently and let out a terrifying scream as a wave of clear liquid blasted out of her pussy, soaking Max's cock, feet, and the floor under her. 

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My mother, the woman who raised me, the only woman I had ever loved at this point, coming right on the floor of her bedroom while I watched and jerked off. 

Is this really happening? I asked myself. No, it must be a dream. It must be. 

Max calmed down and stopped pounding my mother so she could catch her breath. 

"Can I take this off?" my mother asked, touching the blindfold. 

"No," Max said. 'Leave it on. You look so sexy with it on." He winked at me. 

"But it's starting to bother," she said. 

"I don't care," Max said. "I said leave it on. Take it off and I'll have to punish you later."

"Oooo. Is that a promise?"

"Margie," Max said. 

"Okay, okay. I'll leave it on."

"Good," Max said, pulling out of her and taking a couple of careful steps back, his hand wrapped around his cock, rubbing the shaft furiously. "Now get on your knees. I'm gonna come on your tits."

Oh, my god, I thought. I felt my balls rise. This was it. I was going to cum. In my pants. I couldn't control myself. This was just too good. 

Still recovering from her orgasm, my mother had trouble finding the floor. Max helped her by holding her shoulder and gently guiding her down to the shiny hardwood, but once she was on her knees, she cupped her breasts, bringing them up as high as she could without pulling them off of her chest. "Here you go, baby. Come on my tits. Give me all of your man-juice. I want it all. I want every last drop." She stuck her tongue out.

Max crouched down just a smidge, pointed his cock at my mother's breasts. He looked at me and nodded as he stuck his tongue out the same way he had before. "Yeah!" he shouted. "I'mma come on yo, tits, baby!"

That was all I needed to hear. Before I could even change my mind about coming in my pants, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure rush through my body and I came in a flood in my pants, soaking everything. It felt like I pissed myself. Except I didn't feel so embarrassed about it. In fact, I felt great. Like I had just won a million bucks. 

Spent, I took a deep, silent breath, then let it out slowly, trying very hard not to make enough noise to alert my mother of what had just happened. 

Laughing again, this time at my orgasm, Max shook his head, then looked down at my mother. Her tits were still in her hands and her tongue was still out. 

It was a good thing that my mother was patient, because, if not, she probably would've just taken the damn blindfold off, looked at Max, wondering what was taking so long, then found out about what was going on. 

If this were any other occasion, I might have loved that idea, because, let's be honest, he was a huge dick bag. But this wasn't any other occasion, and now that I knew that he liked the idea of watching me watch him fuck her, I had to keep him around so we could do this more often. It was just too much fun to do it only once. 

I felt the come in my pants squish around and roll down my legs as I took a couple of steps closer to my mother and Max, getting a better view of what he was about to do to her. 

When he looked my way, I gave him a thumbs up, then he nodded, looked back down at my mother, closed his eyes, and let out a powerful moan as he blew a nut on my mother's tits, neck, and face, making her look like she had just survived the ending of the first "Ghostbusters" movie. 

Before Max could even warn me about my mother taking off her blindfold or just order me to leave all together with a motion of his hand, I walked down the hall and went to my room, come spilling out of the ankles of my pants and onto my socks and sneakers. 

Man, that was good, I thought to myself as I kicked my sneakers off. 

Never in my life had I seen something as awesome as that or cum as hard as I did and I wished it would have lasted longer. 

Oh, well, I thought, after a moment of going over it again and again in my head. Maybe next time. 

A few minutes later, as I lay on my bed, stroking my cock, I heard a knock at the door. At first, I was going to let whoever it was outside assume I was sleeping, but then I heard Max say, "Dustin. It's me. Max. Open up. I got something for you."

Interested in what he had for me, I stopped stroking my cock, sat up, then said, "Come in."

The door opened and in came Max. He was wearing a pair of blue shorts, no shirt, and a pair of black sandals. In his hand he held a small digital video camera. 

"Look," he said. "I know you never liked me, and that's okay, but I'd like to start a new chapter today. Call a truce between us. Maybe start a friendship."

"Okay," I said, suspicious and interested in making that deal. 

"But this has to stay between us. Your mother can't know why we're being such good friends now."

"Yeah, because I was definitely going to tell my mother about what happened today."

He chuckled. "I know. It's just...Despite what you think. I really do care for your mother. Sure, I care more for her looks than her personality, but I do care for her and I would hate to do something to make her hate me. Her pussy is way too good to give it up so easily. If she broke up with me, I might have to kidnap her and rape her once a day in my dungeon or something like that." He chuckled nervously. 

I didn't find it so funny. I stared at him, waiting for him to say he was just kidding. 

"I'm just kidding," he said. 

I smiled inside. 

"Um...Anyway. So I brought this for you." He handed me the video camera.

"What the hell is this for?" I said. 

"It's my video camera."

"No shit," I said. 

He chuckled yet again. "I know. I'm stupid." He waved away his ridiculousness. "Anyway. As I was saying, I've been using it to record me and your mom in the bedroom. There's a lot of stuff on there. Everything from oral to anal to cuckolding. And I thought that you might like to have it, so you can check out everything we've been doing."

"Are you serious?" I said, not believing what he was saying, even though, in my heart, I knew that he was most likely telling me the truth. 

"Yeah."

"And you're giving this to me because..."

"Because of what I said before. I want to start a new chapter with you. I know I haven't been the easiest step-father-mother's boyfriend-thingy-whatever you call it-to be around and I know that I do act like a pervert just to spite you sometimes, but I do like you. I think you're a cool dude. And now that I know that you are into your mother, I thought maybe we could share that with each other." He pointed to the camera. "I mean, I don't think you could watch me fuck her live all the time, but I'm sure that when we have a chance, I'll let you know, and when you can't, then...That's what that's for. So you can see everything that we do."

I looked at the camera. I liked everything he was telling me and wanted to do what he wanted to do, but there was just something bugging me about him. "Let me ask you something," I said. "When we first met and I said, 'You look like you've been to prison', and you said, 'Well, maybe in another life.' You were..."

"Lying," he said. "I was lying. In fact, I have been to prison. Only once, though."

"Because of this," I said, waving the camera around.

"Yeah."

"I thought so. What were you doing?"

"Video taping chicks in the dressing room where I worked."

I nodded. "Wow. Then you really are the pervert I always knew you were."

He said, "I guess I am."

"Well, good." I stood up. "All right. Here's what I have to say about all this. First, yes, I want things to go the way you want them to go. Second, I want to you to continue to be perverted around me. I want you to slap my mother's ass and do all the other shit you do while I'm around."

"So we have a deal?"

"Yes, we do," I said. "We have a deal."

We shook hands. "Good." He turned to leave. "Oh, by the way. I wiped up the mess you made out there while your mother took a shower. You might want to be careful next time you decide to blow your load on the floor. We might not be so lucky next time."

Max left my room, closing the door behind him, and I opened up the little screen on the side of the camera and jerked off to a video of a black guy fucking my mother up the ass. 

The End



My Mother’s Boyfriend



Ten minutes to eight, Jan showed up. I answered the door, because Sherry was grabbing her purse. 

“We have a surprise for you, Marian. Close your eyes.” I closed them. I was still standing there with them closed when I heard Sherry giggle and I heard the door shut. 

“Sherry? Jan? What’s going on?”

Before I knew what was happening, I was picked up and thrown lightly over a shoulder. My eyes snapped open and I didn’t see any sign of Sherry or Jan. “Who are you? Where are my friends?”

“Who do you think I am, Marian? As for Sherry and Jan, they went out on the town. My treat.”

“Connor! I thought it was clear that we can’t be together.” 

He was climbing the stairs to the guest bedroom where I was staying. Sherry must have told him. The rat.

“We can be together. I’m not dating your mother, Marian. I haven’t seen her since that night. And just for the record, because she’s vindictive enough to tell you otherwise, I haven’t slept with her.” 

We reached the room and I let out a whoosh of air as Connor tossed me onto the bed. He was on top of me so quick, I never had a chance to move. He pushed my skirt up around my waist and kissed me while his hand ripped my panties off. I was left totally exposed to his touch. I started crying softly, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I couldn’t sleep with him. Despite everything he said, he had dated my mom. I fought him, but his hand began stroking me softly, caressing the lips of my cunt, flicking his thumb over my sensitive clit. I moaned softly, angry with myself because I could feel the wetness beginning to seep between my thighs. 

I tried to clamp my thighs together, but I trapped his hand there just as he slipped one finger into me. I never could hide the fact that I wanted him. He’d barely touched me and already I was wet and ready to be taken.

“Connor,” I moaned, not wanting to feel this way, but unable to ignore the way his fingers were coaxing me higher. I arched my back as his fingers stretched me, preparing me for him. I tried to throw him off, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I wanted him. I ached with wanting him. For a week I had been pining away wishing that he were with me. And now he was.

I let my legs be spread apart and felt him unzip his pants before coming to rest between them. His rock hard manhood sprang from his pants as if it had a life of it’s own. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached down and grasped all seven throbbing inches and guided him toward the most private entrance to my body. 

Slowly, with exquisite precision, he fused our bodies together in a rapturous joining. His hands clutched my as he entered me. He took my lips in a searing kiss as our bodies became one. Even with our clothes on, this was the most incredible experience. I loved him. Everything that had happened didn’t change it one bit. 

When he was resting full and thick inside me, he leaned up on his forearms. Untangling one hand from mine, he brushed the hair out of my face and looked into my eyes. “You know I love you,” he said softly. “I never meant for you to get hurt.” His remorse was plainly visible.

“I know, Connor.” 

“Marry me?” he asked. My eyes widened and I was speechless. He was serious. “I won’t move until you say yes.”

I moaned as he shifted just enough to nudge deeper into me. “Yes!” I ground out as the pleasure began to intensify. With a slow dip of his hips, he began a leisurely rhythm of thrust and withdrawal. 

My hips rose and fell with every loving movement of his. We moved together in perfect sync, the way that two people who are meant to be together move when their souls have joined.

Every thrust drove me higher and higher, closer to achieving that longed for climax. I was clutching at Connor’s back, wrapping my legs around his waist, encouraging him to pick up the pace. And when I thought he was going to torture me by slowing down, he rammed himself into me and I screamed, feeling it all the way to the very core of my being. 

From then it was a mad joining of bodies, searching for that climax that hovered just on the edge of the horizon. He was moving faster, taking me someplace I’d never been with anyone else. Once, twice more he thrust and I shattered, screaming his name. I collapsed, my whole body shaking. I barely hung on to Connor with my legs, when two seconds later, I felt his essence pouring into me in hot waves. I could feel it inside me and I prayed for a miracle. I wanted his child.

He collapsed on top of me, his weight a heavy burden that I didn’t mind bearing. He was throbbing inside me, his cock losing it’s hardness. I clutched him around the neck and placed a long passionate kiss on his oh so kissable lips. 

“Does this mean that you still love me?” he asked softly.

“I never said I loved you in the first place.”

“You didn’t have to,” he replied. I blushed and turned away.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked, changing the subject. I played with the damp curls at the back of his neck as I waited for his answer.

“Sherry and Jan felt sorry for me. I spent every day hounding them about where you were and when you were coming back to work. I was desperate to talk to you. I haven’t slept for three days wondering where you were or if you were safe. I thought about all the things that could happen to you or all the places you would go. I actually thought that you might leave the state at one point. They finally realized how much I love you when I went in and begged, on my hands and knees, for them to tell me where you were. I will never subject myself to being in that position again. Except for maybe with you.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“We take our clothes off and make the most of this night.” He slipped out of me and out of my grasp. He quickly undressed and then undressed me as well. We took a steamy shower together before climbing back between the covers and proving our love for each other over and over throughout the night.

And even now, nine years later, with two children and several pets, he still loves me more than the world and I feel the same way. He completes me in every way. I found my soulmate.