4 comments/ 34092 views/ 5 favorites Meet Mom By: Harry Twist Chapter 1 – Her First Visit It's truly a shame that everyone can't have the same good fortune as I do. I am a young, healthy male fresh out of college and reasonably well established with a top firm in the City. I've just recently met this girl, a real knockout, named Cindy, and the more I get to know about her the better I like her. For example, on our first date we did the traditional routine up to a point. You know, dinner at a rather nice restaurant, a live stage comedy, and then we went to my favorite neighborhood bar for a drink or two. The evening had been great. Cindy was a lot a fun to be with, and she had a pair of knockers that made me want to rip off her blouse and see if they were real; but I didn't. Sipping our second highball and chatting aimlessly I asked, "How would you like to end up this even, young lady. I hate to see it end." "Really?" she said demurely. "Really." "Great," she said excitedly, "let's go to your place and fuck." I almost dropped my drink, but I managed to place it on the table safely. I paid the tab leaving a very generous tip, and ushered my dream date out of the bar and directly to my apartment. Once inside I barely had the door shut and locked than Cindy was dropping her clothes on the way to the bedroom. She tried her best to fuck me to death that night, but I'm made of pretty good stuff. Three days later she moved in with me after we agreed to have an unconditional relationship, and, if it came to that, we would part company as friends. We sealed the agreement with a rip-snorting round of humping, pumping, grunting and groaning sex. I wasn't going to have to worry about my physical fitness program as long as Cindy was on board. This girl loved to fuck. Time passed, and we were getting along marvelously. I learned that Cindy was a physical fitness instructor at a gym not far away. That helped explain her beautiful body. I didn't know and I didn't care where she got her sexual energy, but I definitely didn't want her to lose it. Then my Mom called. She wanted to visit for a couple of days. I told her about Cindy. Well, I told her a little about Cindy. "That's great, baby," she cried. "Is she pretty?" "No," I paused purposely, and then, "she's beautiful." "Oh, I can't wait to meet her," Mom said excitedly. "How big is your bed?" Then, after a brief pause, she said "Just kidding." "Mom." I said seriously, "don't do anything dumb. I really like this girl." "I'll be on my best behavior, Son." That Friday evening Mom was knocking on our apartment door. "Hi there," Cindy said excitedly as she opened the door. "I'll bet you're Mom." "And you are undoubtedly Cindy." She brushed by the young girl politely and mentioned in a low tone but one meant to be heard, "Nice boobs, Sweetie." "Thanks," Cindy said obviously suffering mildly stunned. She watched Mom stride across the living room and throw her arms around my neck and kiss me. It wasn't the typical Mother/Son kiss. There were signs of passion lingering in the embrace. "What do you think, Mom?" I said as I broke off our embrace. "Ain't she something?" referring to Cindy as she stood there moderately confused. "Oh, baby," Mom cooed, "she's edible." "Mom," I admonished. "I'm just teasing, Sweetheart." Then turning to Cindy, "As I said when we first met - lovely." Cindy became subconsciously aware of her ample bosom. Then on reflection she thought, 'Mom ain't bad either'. I went over to the dining table and pulled out two chairs, seated the ladies, and then took a chair for myself. Like a Jack-in-the-Box, Mom sprang to her feet. "Is it okay if I make myself comfortable, Son?" Of course she didn't wait for my permission; she promptly removed her suit jacket, her skirt, and then her blouse. She looked just fine in her bra, her slip and her heels. "Oh, that's so much better." She primly sat in the chair again. I had forgotten how lovely her boobs were. Cindy's eyes, however, were focused on them intently. Then abruptly she stood and peeled off her tank top which was the only garment she wore above the waist tonight. Next she wiggled out of her hort-shorts and stood there in her tits and bikini panties. I told you she was liberated, didn't I? "Have you ever had sex with another woman, Cindy?" Mom asked very calmly, but also very seriously. "Not really. Why?" Cindy stammered. "Son, don't get mad, now, but seeing Cindy standing there barely dressed makes me very hot. I would like to eat your pussy." "Oh shit, Mom!" I said in bewilderment and rested my head on my arms. "No thanks," Cindy said heatedly. "I have the best pussy eater in the world sitting right there," she snorted pointing at me. "Who do you think taught him, Cindy?" Mom asked in her sweetest tone. "Mark," Cindy said using my given name "is that true?" "We are very close, Cindy. Intimate, in fact." "You motherfucker," she barked at me. She sat there for a long minute before saying anything, then "Are you as good as Mark?" "Want me to show you?" Mom casually reached behind and unhooked her bra freeing those beauties for all to see. She was staring at Cindy's crotch. "Mark?" Cindy looked at me "That's between you girls," hoping to stay clear of this cat fight. Cindy paused and then rose slowly to her feet. Without a word she bent forward and slid her flimsy panties to her ankles. Then she kicked them aside. "Mark's damned good, Mom." "I know'" she sighed as she knelt between Cindy's wide spread legs. It had been awhile since I had seen Mom this naked, and this would be an absolute first time to watch Cindy make it with anyone but me. And, with my own Mom! I was getting really turned on. My cock began to fill out as I watched my Mom slowly bury her face in that pussy that I loved so much. My erection grew as I heard Cindy sigh and then gather two fistful of Mom's hair as she laid her head back on the chair and hunched her crotch into Mom's face. I think they were bonding quite nicely. Mom managed to elevate Cindy's legs to her shoulders; Cindy had grasped behind her knees and drew her legs up against her boobs. Naturally, Mom had buried an index finger into Cindy's asshole. The moans and groans and heavy breathing were filling the room. It wasn't long until I heard the old familiar climax whimper of Cindy's growing louder and louder. Mom was in an ultimate state of arousal; I was fully erect; so what the Hell. I knelt on the floor behind my Mom and planted my full length into her saturated pussy. She moaned audibly into Cindy's happy pussy, and settled back against my shaft. "It's been too long, baby," she sighed as she gyrated her hips against my body. "Drive it in there hard, baby," she grunted between gasps. "It's been a long time since my last good orgasm. Pump away." I obliged her to the best of my ability while Cindy and I gazed at each other eye to eye. She was smiling, so I did the same. Shortly, Mom eased into her orgasmic ritual. I knew it well. I had taken here there on several occasions. It was time to get Cindy back into the act. I motioned for Cindy to get down on the floor with us, and when she did I told her to make like a doggie in front of Mom. Cindy was a trooper. She did exactly as she was told. "Okay, Mom," I grunted as I pounded away at her juicy pussy. Do the tongue thing for Cindy." Mom cautiously moved her hand support from the floor to Cindy's hips. Then, without further ado, she leaned forward and French-kissed Cindy's asshole long and passionately. Cindy squealed and twisted, and Mom continued to twist and probe. The three of us lay in a naked huddle on the floor. Heavy breathing and bliss-laden sighs were all there was to be heard. Once we recovered, I worked up enough effort to speak. "Cindy?' "Yes, Love." She sighed. "I'd like for you to meet my mother." "Did you say meet or eat?" Mom asked. "Eat," Cindy managed, and then after a brief pause, "you horny old bitch." I got up and headed for the bathroom. As I was leaving the room I noticed that Cindy was belly crawling toward Mom. "Your boyfriend has made a mess of my pussy, girl," Mom said. "That's okay," Cindy replied, "I like gravy." I missed the end, but later I was told that the girls 69'ed it that last go-round. BTW Mom slept in the same bed with us that night. We had a fucking goof time. Meet Mr. Stinky Hello, I'm Mr. Stinky. I'm your vibrator. Now I am sure you are a bit shocked by receiving a communication from your sex toy. I know I have never contacted you before but lately you seem to have forgotten me. You have stuck me in your sock drawer, hidden amongst the heavy woolen ones you never wear except when it snows. I know you think that I am safe here, that no one will find me. Who do you think you are fooling? Everyone knows where I am, including your mother! Sometimes when you are in an especially secretive mood, you wrap me in a pair of socks. Oh, that works. Sure socks are lumpy and hard when left in a drawer. You fooled me....not! We used to visit with each other quite regularly. The last time I felt your touch was when you purloined my batteries for your emergency flashlight. I was sad, I admit it. To lose my power was a crushing blow. But you are all involved with the boyfriend now and have no need for me. I am not worried. My time will come. Especially when you realize Mr. Right is wearing your panties when you aren't around. I know. I see everything. But you will discover soon enough that I am the only man you can rely on. I know. I do. I get so lonely sometimes, stuck here amongst your socks. They aren't very good conversationalists, I must tell you. The most interesting story they have is the time you broke your leg skiing in Vermont and half the men in the lodge touched them while offering sympathy. Not much excitement there! Sometimes I wish you had hidden me in your lingerie drawer instead. I know they have stories...and lots of them! Instead I am stuck with the socks. *Yawn*. Girl, you need to get real! Mr. Right does not even have the staying power that I do. And does he vibrate while inside you? I think not! Anyway, perhaps you would be more likely to take me out if I remind you of one of our more memorable encounters. It was winter. I remember that the snow was piling up on the window sill and a draft was blowing through your bedroom despite your best efforts to stop it. You were naked as you lay back on the bed. Your breasts, so young and full and lovely, were winter perky...nipples hard as pebbles. You had shaven that morning for the occasion. Alright, fine. You had shaven because it was your standard procedure. You liked to keep yourself smooth and hairless. You also found men preferred it for the most part (grumbles here). And that day, the skin was as smooth as silk down there. There you were, naked lying upon the warm flannel sheets. You had stashed emergency back up batteries beneath your pillow as you prepared to bring yourself to ecstasy. Your knees were bent, the thighs parted just right. They were ivory in color and gloriously warm to the touch. You have always had such soft skin and I swear that day it was the softest ever. I just wanted to bury myself in it. It was soft and sweet and smelt of lavender. You always enjoyed lavender scented soap. You had taken a bath earlier. It was Sunday. You usually spent the morning in a good soak while every one else in the world attended church. You added lavender bath salt to the steaming water as you sunk into it. The heat radiated through your body. You had brought your coffee and had set it on the ledge of the tub. With your novel, you were set. You sat and sipped and read until the water became too cool to enjoy. Then you had risen, dripping with water. The towel was cotton and impossibly thick that you wrapped yourself in. And after you pulled the stopper in the bath, you swept into your room, all ripe and ready for me. Your pussy lips were already dewy. You were anticipating a nice long session with Mr. Stinky. Your mouth was parted as you breathed, your eyes partially closed. Your nostrils flared with heat. Then you placed me upon your moist skin. Oh how I vibrated with the pleasure! That first touch was so impossibly sweet, so tender. And you sighed softly below your breath as you let me work my magic. I eased between those tender lips and began to vibrate, heating your inner core with my light touch. You began to moan oh so softly, incoherent words of wonder as you let me take you away from the every day world and into a place magical. You whimpered as your desire increased, the turgid pulse cascading through your prone body like lightning...from fingers to toes to hair roots and back again. I continued on, my strength did not diminish as you eased be past those succulent lips and into the velvet cavern beyond. Oh such sweet moans of delight echoed through your room as I took you deeply, pressing far and wide to give you the most pleasure for your money. You kicked up my speed a notch and I began to hum merrily along as you smoothed me in and out of your wetness. How I was coated with your juices! Faster and faster you moved me in and out, over and over. Your back was arching, you pushed your hips towards the ceiling as you twisted and turned upon the bed, lost in the need, the exquisite desire, so close to the brink of release. You didn't stop, you couldn't stop, and you were so close, so needy. And then there it was. The Niagara Falls of Orgasms as it hurled itself over your body and out of your wet clingy pussy. Yes! Yes! Yes! We both cried with the intensity of it as your body trembled uncontrollably upon the mattress, lost in bliss, lost in the moment of passion, lost to all but me. Those were the days, my friend. Those were the days. Meet My Best Friend: My Cock! This little tale is entirely true, including the bits about one of my inspirations, my friend Beth Taylor. Just thinking about that woman's cleavage makes me hard which brings me to my cock. Enjoy, and let me know what you think, too. I cannot stop thinking about my cock. What a concept! A few weeks ago I took a picture of it it was beautiful and since then, I cannot get my mind off it. I don't mean I am obsessed with it, just that at least twenty times a day, I think about my cock: I think about what it looks like; what it feels like in my pants; how it hangs when I urinate; and what fun it is to have one of these things. A few years ago, in conversation with a woman friend, the topic of owning a penis came up no pun intended. She marveled at how men were able to live with one of those dangly things. She asked, in fact, "how can you possibly have that loose there in your shorts? I could never imagine having one." Naturally, we don't seem to have the same concerns, having grown up with it all our lives. It's just there. Then again, she did have a point. The penis mostly just hangs there, doesn't it? In my case, it is cradled in Jockey briefs, the ones with the soft cotton pouch, meaning it does not so much dangle as get held in place by the tight-fitting fabric. Having also experienced both boxers (too baggy), and going commando (too loose and free), I can say with confidence that my penis and I are happy with each other. I differentiate between my cock and my penis, as you will have noticed. What is the difference, though? It would be nice to explain that my cock is only sexual, and my penis only biological, but that would not be accurate. Of course, cock is far more sexual, but sometimes I use the word more as a matter of pride in that appendage. Penis, on the other hand, is so nearly clinical that maybe it does only apply in that way. I wonder... For anyone who has not seen my cock (this is definitely the right word here), I should probably describe it a bit. First, it is not a monster as so many of us men seem to think it should be. But neither is it an embarrassment in the size department men tend to focus pretty seriously on the size of these things, but most women seem to be much more appreciative of their function instead. When it is soft, my penis (maybe soft means penis, and hard means cock?) measures as little as a inch when it has become "buried" from too much confinement, to maybe two inches at it's most comfortable. I know this because last week I lay it across a soft towel laid on my desk and measured it. Naturally, that much attention made it hard, so I got to measure it at its proud maximum expansion: about five inches. That's about the length of it. But what about girth? Again, some men would have you think that they carry a Coke can in there, but in my case, I would have to say it is mostly well-proportioned with a nice shape and no one part domineering over the others. Just hanging there, it rests nicely across my balls, but more on them later. When it is hard, no matter how hard, my cock is pretty much line-straight, though it points up at about 60 degrees and slightly to the left at those times. Like many North American men, probably most, I am circumcised. I have heard many of the debates about whether that is a good thing, or a bad one. Me? I don't really care. After all, I am not about to start trying to reverse the process. Like I said, I like my cock. The head of my cock is soft, sensitive and loves a soft touch... a lubricated hand, even my own, feels amazing as it slides across the fleshiness of the head. Of course, the touch of lips or a wet tongue are even better, but that is not always an option, is it? My cockhead looks a lot like a little helmet. Sure, most of us look like that, but there sure are variations, aren't there. I remember seeing one photo of a cock that was capped by a most over-sized knob, it was as if there were a crab apple sitting atop a thick stick. (As an aside, it looked great, but that's another story.) In my case, from its very tip, the head curves gently down, then in before it takes the leap off a thick crown which wraps around and caps the shaft. Centered on the top of the knob is my cock's little eye, often with a tear, or at least most of the time when I am staring into it. Pre-cum. Love it. The shaft of my cock is certainly a fun place to play, too. The aforementioned oiled hand or lips are equally welcome, and appreciated. As you look down from the top, my cockshaft is crisscrossed with slight creases, not unlike wrinkles, but much more attractive. There is a thick vein running from the center of the base, along the back of my cock to a point about halfway on the left side. Here it disappears to the underside. When it is at its hardest, there are also several thick veins pressing to the surface as the shaft joins the underside of the cockhead. I can feel them pulse when it is like that. Love that, too. From underneath, my cock provides an entirely different landscape. From the base extends a huge ridge all along the shaft, easily making up a third of the thickness. By the time it reaches the underside of the head, this thick, vein-rich ribbon has disappeared into the main part of the shaft, allowing the crown to stand triumphant. The soft flesh of my ball sac is partially hidden under pubic hair (it's a medium reddish colour, in case you were curious). Admittedly, my pubic hair is pretty scraggly. In particular, it could use a bit more body, be softer and more manageable. But then again, maybe I will cut it all off one of these days? Then who cares? Back to my balls. I can definitely say that rather than hanging loose as many would, for the most part my ball sac is snugly tight against my body. Maybe it's because I get hard so often that it doesn't know that it could be loose sometimes. Who's to say? Just to make sure I get it right, my left hand is gently squeezing my balls right now. That way, I can best describe their size (each about the same as my cockhead interesting) and their shape (like a rugby ball, I think, but much smaller, of course). During the day I can usually count on at least eight or ten erections. Some of these are develop as I sit and enjoy a view: a deep cleavage accidentally presented by a woman picking up her keys; the tight, muscular buttocks of a woman on her way to the gym; a long pair of legs encased in nylon and disappearing beneath a pleasantly short skirt. All of these invite my cock to pay attention, and it does. Sometimes that attention is only a stirring and adjustment, perhaps a half-hardon and no more. I can feel one now as I prepare this little story. It feels thick. That is the best description I can think of: thick! I can feel the head pulsing very slightly as the shaft fills slowly. Other times, the reaction is both swifter, and more certain. A full erection barely pauses at the thickening. Rather, it is there all at once. Hard. Rock hard. That usually comes when I entertain the possibilities. Of course that means fantasizing about what might happen, or what did happen. This quality of erection is guaranteed when I visit with my friend, Beth Taylor. Yes, it is the Beth Taylor in my other stories. And yes, she did enjoy all those events, even if I did spice up a few of them with some bonus material. Talking with Beth virtually guarantees that my cock will be hard if not all the time, at least most of the time. I have to move often, adjusting its position. In public that is even more difficult of course. Like most men, I think I have perfected the skill of cock-adjustment and can usually pull it off. What's tough, though, is leaving the table. The perennial challenge of all men: how to lose a hardon, or at least conceal it long enough to get to the bathroom. I don't have an answer. Beth has wonderful cleavage. Best of all, she loves it when a man stares into it. In my case, I do so openly and appreciatively, but I have seen other men walk by our table an extra time or two, just to glance down into the crevice between her breasts. Lucky boobs. But enough about why my cock gets so hard. What do we do for entertainment? In no particular order, the answer is fuck, jerk off, get sucked and licked, fuck again, and masturbate (quite a bit of that, actually). Lately, we have also become video camera fans. My cock especially likes to have its picture taken when it is steel-rod hard, not such a challenge, as you might imagine. Not only are there still pictures in this story, but my cock has come to appreciate video, too. Turns out that the camera can take a pretty good bit of MPG video, as long as there is good light. A good work light and mini tripod are the perfect answer. Let me tell you about one recent video. As I took a few new pictures, this time real closeups of the knob, shiny with massage oil, I couldn't help but give it a few strokes. I discovered that rather than easing my predicament, the handjob I was giving myself gave me a new idea: to try out the video capabilities of my little Sony digital camera. I had the work lamp hovering over my handful and the camera sat steadily on its tripod. Making sure everything was lined up, I hit the record button and brought my cock into the frame. I can assure you that it was as hard as it has ever been. Without even touching it I could feel a buildup of the excitement as it bobbed and jumped all on its own; the camera capturing all the excitement of this prelude. Making sure I was always in the frame, I dropped a hand onto the well-oiled head of my cock and rubbed the slickness around and making it pulse firmly once more. Sliding my palm down the shaft pushed the head directly into view. I know all this because I have watched the video many times already. As it has thousands of times, my hand took a firm hold of my cock, grasping it in just the right way to maximize the length of the strokes. A tentative and slow sliding motion pushed my hips forward, extending my cock to its maximum. There was little reason to delay now, but still I slid my grip slowly back and forth. This way, I rationalized, the camera could record exactly what was happening with the best possible picture I sure was not kidding. What an image! It took only about ten long strokes for me to lose control. It was that quick. Good thing, too, since at the top quality, the memory stick fills up rapidly. Careful to aim to the side of the lens, I guided my hand hard along the shaft of my cock and pointed its gaping eye oh, god! Here it comes!! The splash of cum shot forward all the way across the desk; then a second time; the third spurt was more of a strong dribble directly in view of the recorder. Watching the video later I realized how incredibly erotic seeing my own semen spurt strongly out of my cockhead was and knew I would want to share the experience with others. Upon reading this, I hope you feel that you have met a new friend: my cock.