19 comments/ 214794 views/ 50 favorites My Mother, The Babe By: gymmyt My mother, Clementina Molyneux, hails from Saint-Etienne, France, born to and raised by French jewelers, Pierre and Catarina Molyneux. Good grades in school, kind of a wild child, but not too bad from what Grandpa says. She meets and falls in love with a Moroccan engineering student who was five years her senior, who sired me. Mom taught herself to speak his language so that they could better communicate, which I thought was pretty amazing. Now, in their romance period, which was rather short from what mom tells me, he took a position in Manhattan and brought her with him. Turns out, he really wanted to bat for the other team, and after about 9 months stateside, he bailed on her for a Mexican restaurateur named Jose. I can only assume that this did not go over well with her as she was in her first trimester with me. I have never even seen a picture of my father, let alone met him, nor his side of the family. I don't even have his surname. I'm Dax Molyneux, meetcha. My whole life, my mother has been both parents for me, doling out strict discipline when needed, and copious amounts of love as well. I don't think that I could want for more, to be honest. She was tough on me when she needed to be, and she took no shit, from anyone! She is really my best friend and confidante. The night that I lost my virginity, she was the first person that I told, we are close. Our place seemed to be the halfway house for kids when I was growing up, we ALWAYS had a house full of kids, girls and boys. Ours would be the first number that parents would call when their kids needed to get home, and nine times out of ten, they were there. I guess at the time that I was thinking that they thought that we were cool. I realized at about the onset of puberty that the guys came over to scope my mom, but more on that later. My mother was very open with me on any subject, I could ask her anything, and we have literally discussed everything, from if anal sex was pagan to the plight of the Australian flood victims, she is well educated and openly encourages discussions between us, as well as study groups that I host at our loft twice per week. She is most certainly not demure in her mode of dress as well, mostly opting for a spaghetti strap tank top, sans bra, that shows off her flat belly and glittering belly button piercing, as well as her stubby nipples, and short cheerleader type shorts around the house, and is ritual around our house every morning before school, she still makes me breakfast, which she insists is the "Most important meal of the day", in a silk robe, her nipples hard enough to cut glass and poking out brashly from the white housecoat, the bumps in her areola clearly visible. I wasn't naïve to my best friend Nathan always insisting on spending the night at my house, ya know! She is always 100% a lady, first and foremost, very girly in each and every way. Mom has deep auburn hair that falls to the small of her back in large, flowing curls and is rich, thick and lustrous, her skin a bronze tone, aided by her year round tan. Her hands and feet are slender, her fingers and toes long and slim, her nails always pristinely done. She has enormously round eyes, almost Anime sized that are a deep, sexy hazel, but what sets her off are her plump, full lips. She keeps her thick eyebrows plucked thinly and primly, and when she is made up, especially if she wears red lipstick, she looks like; and you won't believe me, I know, but just like Jessica Rabbit! She has enormous breasts for her size, I cannot say if she had augmentation for sure, however, I live with her and those boobs have been that big for as long as I can remember, and I don't recall her 'recovering from surgery' ever in my life. I have heard her tell her girlfriends before that she was all natural when they were over for wine one evening, besides, I have been with chicks with fake tits, and the boobs just don't move the right way, hers do. It is not like I lust after my mom, I don't. I do believe, however, that most boys will at one point in their lives look at their mothers in a sexual manner, whether it is just an attempted glance down her shirt, or all out masturbatory sexual fantasies. I would be a prevaricator if I said that I didn't steal glances at her when I could, I am a constantly horny teenager that gets plenty of sex, although if I banged seven days a week, I would lust for an eighth! Yeah, I look, and my friends constantly remind me of how hot that she is, and instead of pissing me off, it is an enormous source of pride for me. I had never gone beyond trying to steal glances at her toned ass, or her huge tits, never had lusted after her as one would think, until one fateful occurrence. I hadn't paid attention really to a whole lot when I was young, like a typical kid, all that I cared about was the Jets on Sundays, a full belly, and fast internet. I would occasionally ask questions. Questions like how is it that I never see her go to work, nor hear about an office or any of the like, yet we live in a 2400 square foot, three bedroom loft in SoHo that looks like one of those magazines came in and decorated? How is it that you are constantly shopping at the hippest, trendiest boutiques, and both of our wardrobes look like we could walk the runway at Fashion Week, yet I have never heard anything about having to deposit a paycheck? How can my mom and I eat at four and five star restaurants two, three times per week, attend Broadway plays and musicals, yet as far as I know, when she isn't shopping, the only time that she leaves the house is to work out? It seems like working out and maintaining a healthy diet IS her job. How is it that a brand new luxury vehicle sits in our garage every two years like clockwork? How does my prestigious private school tuition get paid? If I asked, she would always give me a beautiful smile, stroke my cheek, look me in the eye and change the subject. "I mean, don't get pissed at me, bro." Nathan stated firmly one day while he was over. "You just have to face the possibility that I am right." "Fuck you, jack wagon! She isn't a whore!" "Look, dude, look at the scenarios. No discernible job, new cars, new clothes, perfect manicure and pedicure, she keeps fit as if she depends on it!" Nathan shrugged. "I am sure that if it is true, that she is one of those high class, thousands of dollars an hour ones." I just glared at him until he looked away apologetically. We heard mom bounding lightly down the stairs. "Dax," She yelled. "Going to the gym, dinner is in the oven, you boys eat it all." She walked over and sat on the couch next to us and began putting on her socks and running shoes. She had on a pair of black, what looked like boy shorts that rode low on her hips and a tube top that had four buttons that closed the material in front of her ample mounds, and two of those buttons were undone, Mom always wears workout gear that is borderline lingerie. She stood up and gave me a kiss on the lips goodbye, then kissed Nathan on the forehead. "I will never wash my forehead again!" Nathan proclaimed. Mom gently pulled his earlobe. "Natie, you are a doll!" She cooed in her oh so sexy French accent. "Stay for dinner and make sure that you and Dax clean up after your selves, I made coq au vin!" "Yes, ma'am!" we echoed in unison as she almost literally skipped to the door, leaving us once again. "I bet that guys pay out the nose for that, Dax." "You are my bro, but I WILL kick yer ever lovin' ass!" I warned. "My head is still tingling where she kissed me." "Fuck off." "I love it when she calls me Natie." "Pound it." "I've jerked off thinking about her, I shot a huge load, dude." "Give me a rim job." "Let's eat." Nathan was long gone and I was lazily channel surfing as all of my chores were done by the time that mom got home. She sat next to me, still breathing a little heavily from her workout. "Whatcha watchin'?" "Bobby Flay." We sat for some time in silence, this time watching New York's son make a killer arugula salad, as we do quite often, on the couch, me leaning against the arm of the sofa, my arm draped around my mothers' shoulders as she is leaning into me, her feet curled up underneath her. I hesitated, clearing my throat and trying not to stutter too badly. "Um, I will love you no matter what, mom, but, are you a p-pr-prostitute?" Her head snapped to look at me and she looked deep into my eyes. "What did you just say to me, Dax Tristao Molyneux?" She stood up before me, pissed off. I knew that I had made her mad because she only says my full name when she is royally irate. Her eyes took on a dark look and her nostrils flared as she put one hand on her hip and pointed at me with the other and let loose a tirade in Moroccan Arabic that would make paint on a wall blister and peel off. She only did this when she was really, really hacked off. I wished at that time that I wasn't on that sofa as I shrank back to make myself small because I couldn't get away. I read, write and am fluent in French, but my Arabic is functional at best, so most of her rant just flew by me, although I could catch a few words...asshole, something about my balls, castration...and their implied meaning. Good, healthy words. I realized at one point that she had stopped and was just glaring at me. I managed to get her to sit after pulling her wrist down towards me. "Mommy," I began, knowing that melted her heart, "it's just that I am tired of defending, the kids at school, you know, they talk about their dad the attorney, or a doctor, a CEO, what have you, and I can never chime in, because I have no idea, yet, we seem to have more stuff than those families! How do we travel to France at least twice a year to see Grandma and Grandpa, how can I have not one, but three pairs of $700 jeans in my closet? C'mon!" A frog caught in my throat and I choked back a sob. We both didn't really know how much that the possibility of her being a whore affected me, until now. Mom sat next to me and held me to her breast. "I didn't think that it mattered, honey." "It doesn't, but if you were doing...that...it would kill me." She lifted my chin up to where I was looking into her hypnotic eyes. "Well, I guess that you are going to live then." Mom chuckled. "I am not a call girl. Your grandfather sold off a few branches of his jewelry store chain in France, and he gave me a rather large lump of money. He hates me being over here, so he wants to be sure that I am comfortable. That's all." She was lying, I knew that. I gave her a kiss good night and left her to watch some movie. I had last seen my grandparents just a few months prior, and they still lived in their same modest little house in the city that they had been living in for decades. I know my Grandma, she and my mom are cut from the same cloth, they both love the finer things in life, and I knew that if they were THAT rich, Grandma Catarina would be in the largest house, nay, a castle in wine country. I left it that until a few weeks later. I had been dating Brianne for a few months and it was my first love that wasn't 'Puppy Love'. She wasn't my first, or even my second, or third for that matter, but I was hers, and I just was convinced that she would be my last. One day, without any warning whatsoever, she just dumped me for a college guy. I was devastated. My final period was Statistics, and she was in that class with me and I for sure didn't want to be anywhere around her, so I ditched last period and went home. The walk home and the fresh air did wonders for me and as I walked in the front door, I was feeling really good. I thought about making a Dagwood as I was pretty hungry and realized that I could hear some pretty loud rock music coming from mom's office. Curious, I strolled over to her office, which had large French doors on it with window inlays and peeked in. I was frozen. Mom was seductively dancing in front of her computer, too into her routine to notice me staring at her. She had on a super, super tight long sleeve school girl sweater that buttoned just below her breasts, which were bursting out of the V of the sweater, the shortest little red plaid skirt that I had ever seen with white tights that came to just above her knees. Her hair was up in pigtails. While I stood there, mouth agape, she twirled about, causing the skirt to flare out, revealing a sliver of cloth that fed into her small, tight buns. She was bent over and looking back at the computer screen, well, more like the webcam, and slapping and kneading her petite ass cheeks with her slender hands. I just watched as she teased and teased, I watched as she doffed the sweater and the skirt. Her tits were encased in a bra that squeezed them together, and she frequently cupped them in her hands or jiggled them into the cam. I was fully erect. Gyrating her hips, she provocatively danced into a position where she had her back to the camera, then reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, removing it ever so slowly. She raised her hands above her head and her boobs were visible from both sides of her back. There was nary any sag, and I realized that I was rubbing myself through my cargo shorts, cock at full mast. She turned and twisted, teasing that she would show nipple, but no, she undulated sexily, and slowly turned back around, using her hands as a bra. I was watching intently, transfixed, my face was numb, yet tingling and I could feel how hot my mug was. I must have moved some way that caught her attention, because our eyes locked briefly, yet it seemed to be an eternity. Mom was the first to move as her expression became one of pure shock and she quickly knelt behind her desk as I bolted back to the kitchen, swallowing to keep my rapidly beating heart from coming up into my throat. A few minutes later, I heard her office door open and shut, then the tiny pitter patter of her little feet as she scurried up the stairs. I continued making my sandwich, layering it with deli mustard, ham, cheese, bread, mayo, turkey, tomato, more bread, rare roast beef, trying to get that image out of my mind that seemed to have burned myself into my retinas. I sat down with my body still shaking like a leaf in a gale force wind and wolfed down about half of my Dagwood when I heard mom motor down the stairs, then pad across the floor, her bare feet slapping against the tile. I vaguely heard "Baker Street" on the kitchen radio. I kept my head down and chewed slowly until her bare feet came into view and stopped. Silently, I swallowed and admired her bare feet. They were quite pretty, I had always thought so. She said nothing, and after an excruciatingly long time, I wiped my mouth and laid my napkin down. "What did I just see?" I asked, still staring at my nearly devoured snack. I looked up at her, and my heart nearly melted. She had been crying, her large, almond shaped eyes glistened with dew and she was gnawing on her lower lip. She looked like a sad story, whatever the Hell that means. She had changed into a pair of shorts and one of my old Smiths t-shirts. She chortled nervously a little, "I thought that I could go forever without you knowing." "Who was on the other end of that cam, Clementina?" I knew that she knew that I was pissed because I saw her wince slightly when I used her name. I asked some questions about what was going on in French, and she just stared down at her feet, wringing her hands. Finally, she just walked towards her office and beckoned me to follow. I did, watching her muscular calves as she flowed, almost feline like, across the great room and to the now open French doors. Mom sat at her office chair and motioned for me to bring another chair up and sit next to her as she booted up her computer. I did. "You don't know this," She started, "but you look exactly like your father. He was the most handsome man that I had ever seen, and I fell in love with him the second that I laid eyes on him. Oh, Dax, you don't know how hard it was for me when he left me, a young girl barely out of her teens, I didn't know any English, I was uneducated in the eyes of the Americans. Lucky for me, his parents are wealthy, and his father was deeply affected by his sons 'conversion' to homosexuality, and began giving me a monthly stipend that kept me living, albeit not in a grandiose manner, until you were a few years old. We exchanged letters and pictures in those early years until one letter told me that he would bring to a halt my allowances, but he would continue for a few more months until he knew that I would be able to care for you." She looked at me and held my hand, smiling. I returned it, glad that she was finally opening up to me. "I was panicking because although I had picked up the language, I had barely gotten through the introductory university courses that I had enrolled in, and I knew that the only job that I could get was waiting tables. I had socked away a lot of the money that he had given me, but that would run out soon enough. You know Jordan, right?" I thought for a moment, trying to recall the name, and then did so. She was one of moms gorgeous friends, a smoking hot Filipina with a body to kill somebody over that I had openly lusted after for years. "Yeah, I do." "We were commiserating over some wine at her place one evening and she started telling me about the job that she had, working on what was then the World Wide Web. The web was fairly new at the time, not widespread like it is today; mostly companies or rich folks could only afford it. She worked for a place that had girls dance on video for subscribers, and thought that I should do it, so I did." She opened up a browser window and typed into the URL, then minimized the page so that I couldn't see. "I did that for a few years," she squeezed my hand firmly, "never nude, never. While it did give me some financial freedom, allowing me to earn my marketing and programming degrees, I knew that I could do better. I created my own website, and launched it about ten years ago." She dragged the mouse over and brought up the page. She was on the page in a bright blue micro thong, hands covering her massive bare breasts, with her bright red lips wet and parted, her bedroom eyes beckoning, fiery hair teased and wild. I marveled at it, "Mom, should I be looking at this?" "Unless you pay, you won't see anything that you don't see nearly every day!" She surfed around the nine page website, showing me the content, and she looked fantastic on every single page. It was a genius concept, it really was, virtually no overhead. Basically what it consists of is gorgeous "Cam Girls" hosting their own live cam shows that mom streams from her own server. Their content is what they wanted it to be, and as soft or hard core as they wanted it to be. "Five feet, seven inches tall," I read aloud from her 'About Me' section. "One hundred and twenty six pounds, 32E-24-33, a tantalizing French temptress.... Holy shit, mom! You make money from this?" She laughed heartily. "I have over ten thousand subscribers that pay $14.95 per month get access to my site, and another additional 4000 premium subscribers at $34.95 a pop, on top of that, a rolling average of 25 women that pay me 10% to host for them because most of them don't have the wherewithal to do this themselves. See all of those ads down both sides of the screen? They pay me to allow them there." I was damn good at math, and the raw numbers were staggering, and that wasn't accounting for the advertiser dollar or the overrides from the models. I whistled long and low, my eyes wide. I was puzzled, though. "What is the difference between regular subscribers and premium?" "Well, honey, premium subscribers get access to live chats with me, I will do, uh, live cam shows, uh, -" My Mother, The Babe "Live cam shows?" She was clearly embarrassed, red as a beet, but she looked me in the eye. "Solo masturbation, vibrators, dildos, etcetera." Her eyes watered slightly and her voice wavered. "Mostly it is just conversation with lonely men, guy that are stationed far from their families, or divorced." I pondered that for a moment. "Naked." "Um, yeah, uh...naked." "What do you do while naked?" She sighed low and long. "Almost whatever they want, really, save for anal play or bathroom stuff." Surprisingly, although I was shocked, I wasn't pissed, or galled. "Beats the Hell out of hookin'." We both laughed uproariously. I gave her a kiss and got up to leave, telling her that I was glad that she shared that with me, but she should not have hidden it. She stopped me as I got to the door. "Honey?" "Oui, maman?" "I am glad that you know, and more important, that you don't think less of me for it." I really never looked at her the same way again. I mean, I knew that she was my mother, but I really looked at her now like a guy would look at an amazingly hot woman that happened to be living down the hall from him. I paid attention to her when she was sitting on the couch, wearing her cute horn rimmed glasses while reading a book, her bare feet daintily crossed and bouncing in time to an internal beat. The way that her narrow ankles arced up to her muscular calves, the sweep of her thigh muscles, her small, tight ass, the flatness of her belly, the enormity of her tits, her sexy lips, her large feline eyes, the way that her nearly perfect hair framed her pretty face and fell around her tan shoulders. I do believe that I was in love with my mother. In retrospect, her mannerisms towards me changed as well. I came home from school one day and she was in the kitchen, basically naked save for a small thong, her left arm draped over her left breast and cupping her right, talking on her cell phone. I stared at her in wide eyed wonder as she saw my expression and giggled, telling the other party on the phone that her handsome, studly son had just come home. She kissed me and sashayed back into her office without missing a beat. I had literally been walking around our house with a constant hard on for the last few months that I had known of what she did for a living. I swore that she was doing what she could do to let me see her too. It was all that I could do to not jump on her, for real. The weather grew warm and I came home from shooting hoops with Nathan and mom was tanning herself on our patio, topless of course. She called me to apply lotion to her back and I oh so merrily obliged. She was laying face down, her abundant sweater meat spilling out from ribcage. She had rolled down the thong bikini bottom so that the top inch or so of her crack was exposed. "Start down by my feet; I don't want to have to do them later, sweetheart." I paused for a long while, trying to generate saliva in my throat. I squirted a generous amount of baby oil in my hands and began to work her calves up to the back of her knees, taking my sweet time, giving her more of a massage then just applying tanning accelerator, my cock ached, it was so hard. I liberally applied the oil to her firm thighs, staring at her ass while I did so, wondering if I should just grab those cheeks and go, or skip them altogether. My dick spoke for me as I started, palms down, right where her buttocks met her thighs and pushed down firmly; moving my hands up and over her tight ass close to where her green thong vanished into her nether area, then arced out, left hand counter, right hand clockwise. Mom said nothing, so this go around; I gripped more butt cheek and spread them apart a little bit more, exposing just the tiniest bit of her sphincter. "WHOA, Hot Rod!" Mom giggled, "Don't get too frisky, what will the neighbors think?" I was super embarrassed. "So-sorry, Mama." I had pushed the strap of her thong pretty far up on her hips by stroking her butt before, so I resumed the massage by gently rolling them back down her glutes again, admittedly lower than where she had them before. Mom was prone, face down on a chaise lounge chair, wearing only a tiny thong, and I was sitting next to her left side, right leg tucked under me, left leg at a forty five degree angle to the lounge chair, and I was clad only in a pair of basketball shorts. I was fascinated by her butt crack and her lower back, which had teeny little bleached out hairs adorning it, my cock was so fucking hard, and I was relishing rubbing the slick baby oil into the supple skin of her lower back and upper globe area. I didn't know how long she had been looking at me, but at some point, she had propped herself onto her elbows and was looking back at me, well, my groin, I would say. I finally realized that she was looking at me, met her eyes and we both smiled as her eyes trailed down and she plopped her head back down again. I looked down at my crotch and my rod was poking misshapenly against the thin fabric, clearly outlining my head. Mom sighed loudly as she laid her head back down, closing her eyes. "Ohhhhh, Dax! That is so good!" I was agog with lust as I continued up her back, applying the oil to her back, starting at the indenture of her spine with the pads of my thumbs and pushing hard up her back towards her neck, then flaying out onto her shoulders. The motion of her twisting her hair around and laying it over her shoulder as to not get oil in it was so erotic, I nearly came right there. It didn't help that she would elicit a moan every now and again, causing my pulsating cock to twitch. I looked down at my crotch and noticed a rather large wet spot where the head of my penis was; I would die if she saw that. I tried to get as brazen as possible, allowing my hands to go underneath her onto her stomach, and then flare out as they approached her breasts, yet my fingers would brush the forbidden flesh, barely at first, then more and more of the finger as I made revolution after revolution. "Hey, Daxie," mom giggled, "watch the hands!" My heart leapt into my chest, I knew what I was doing, yet I still was embarrassed by being busted, I mumbled an apology, and bounded up from the chair and raced up to my room, slamming my door behind me. I ripped off my shorts, and right there, in the middle of my room, grabbed and jerked my cock only two strokes before I ripped off a knee weakening orgasm, shooting a huge load right into the shorts that I had just doffed. I was shaking like a leaf as I cleaned my spunk from my still rigid cock; there came a tapping at my door. "Dax, honey are you okay? What's wrong?" "Nothing, mom, all is well!" I lied to the door. "Open up." She commanded. I scrambled for another pair of shorts, hiding my soggy ones under my bed. I slowly opened my door, and there she was, still clad in her green thong, but she had pulled on a gray t-back tank top that barely covered her buxom breasts, a generous portion of her globes were exposed on either side of the material and a liberal section of cleavage was exposed as well. The scoop arm holes went to the bottom of her rib cage, so her breasts were more or less just out there for me to see. I was mesmerized. She sat on my bed and tucked her legs up under her so that it looked as if she was nude from the waist down, not helping me keep my growing erection down. I know that she had noticed my change of clothing, yet she did not mention it. "You have been acting strange the last little while, Dax, what is going on with you?" I fumbled for words, thinking carefully. She and I had always shared a very amenable relationship where we could speak openly towards each other, and I figured that I would just tell her, and hope that she wouldn't think that I was a pervert, or worse, that she would think ill towards me. "Well, uh, I have found it rather hard to, uh, not, um, notice you, mom. I mean, I know that you are my mom, and it is wrong for me to do so, but...I can't help it. You are fucking hot, mom. Truthfully, I love the way that you dress when you are around the house, I am your son, but I am still a man, and I absolutely know that you know that I am as well. You have GOT to know what that does to a guy, mom. Even the most naïve woman in the land must know that when she walks around a guy with barely even a thong on, showing off her tits, that the guy is going to look, and um...be aroused. And I am mom. I get aroused. I think about you in situations where a son should not be thinking about his mother." I sat there, red as a brick from being mortified, and she just looked at me, stone faced, for so long it was almost unbearable. I didn't know if she was furious, of if she was weighing her words. "Dax. I am so sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to do that to you." She laughed, and then looked away. "What am I saying? I did know what I was doing." Puzzled, I narrowed my eyes, staring into her eyes. "Yes, Dax, I did know the reaction that I hoped that I would get, and Lord help me, I didn't get it." "What do you mean, hoped to get?" "Please forgive me son, but you think that I am so gorgeous, I think the same of you! I hoped that by being as free as I was that...that, um, I could seduce you or better yet, you seduce me." I just sat there staring, agape. My mom wanted me? "What...me?" "Sick and twisted, I know, me lusting after my own son." I was flabbergasted, and my mind was whirling. I knew that it was wrong, however, I didn't care. I wanted to go to her now, but I felt that I would be rebuffed. I cleared my throat; my head was spinning, thoughts and ideas racing in all directions throughout my brain. "Did you know that consensual incest is legal in China, the Ivory Coast, Israel, the Netherlands, Russia, Spain, Turkey, and yes, even France." I stated. "That Switzerland has a proposition to make it legal? Consanguineous relationships are preferential in Africa and the Middle East, and that certain areas of Pakistan believe that it keeps the blood lines pure. Ancient Romans regularly consorted with their family, even though it was made illegal at one point..." Mom sniggered. "I swear that sometimes you are too smart for your own good, or you are just a wealth of useless information. I love you, son." She got up from my bed, her pendulous breasts swaying to and fro, dangerously close to popping out of her tank, yet not doing so; I couldn't take my eyes off of them. She gave me a hug, me reaching up to wrap my arms around her, pressing her mounds into my upper chest, causing my one track minded penis to leap to its full length. The hug lingered for some time, with no complaint from me, surprisingly, she lightly took my earlobe between her teeth, gasping in my ear as she reached down and gripped my swollen member. I held my breath as she lightly squeezed and palpitated my hard on. "It's big, Dax." I could only muster a 'deer in the headlights' look as I realized that this was going to happen. Mom knelt between my legs, pushing them apart and reaching for the waist band of my tented shorts and pulling them down. I lifted my ass off of the chair, allowing my only stitch of clothing to be removed from my body, my cock slapping back against my lower stomach. I am in good shape, and I know that I have a good sized tool, but I momentarily wasn't sure if that would be good for her. "Oh, my!" She said, tracing my length with a lone fingernail from my balls up to my glans before gripping it in her warm hand and pulling it to where it was upright in her hand. "Had I known that it was this big, I would not have waited for you to make a move!" I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as I could feel her hot breath on my nut sack. I felt a swipe of her tongue on my boys as she slid her hand up and down my shaft ever so slowly. "Don't cum in my mouth!" She said as I saw those magnificent lips engulf my raging rod. I was so turned on that she barely made more than a few bobs up and down my member before I felt the rush of semen hurtling up my shaft. "Dammit! Oh, mom!" I bellowed. She pulled off of my throbbing stick with a quickness, nestling back on her haunches as she began jacking me off hard and fast. The first volley flew far over her shoulder and I could barely hear her shouting encouragement to me through the roaring in my ears as she popped back up, pointing my spewing cock towards her cleavage. Nonetheless, she still winced as I hit her in the chin with a stream of cream, painting her chest with my choad. She pinched the head of my cock with her thumb and forefinger, churning out a final dollop of baby batter that she squeezed off and wiped on her shirt. She rose and kissed me on the cheek. "I need to go shower to get this oil and cum off of me. Get a towel and join me." She left and I just sat there, not believing what had just happened. Her last sentence to me was enough to get me going again. Nervously, and on legs that I didn't trust to get me there, I approached the running shower. Mom's bathroom had a huge stand up shower with a wide bench on the side away from the dual shower heads that has a clear glass door, yet the steam build up was enough that I could only make out her silhouetted form. I opened the door and stepped over the threshold, the burgeoning artist in my running a dialogue in my brain. Mom was even more exquisite than I could have imagined, even with her back to me, the spray of the shower was so hot that her skin was pink. I just gazed at her, staring at her little ass as my cock didn't swell, but expanded in an instant. "Honey," She said from what seemed to be a distance of miles, "soap up that sponge and wash mommy's back?" I drooled as I did as she commanded until she finally turned to me, exposing herself to me for the first time; she was excruciatingly beautiful at that precise moment. Her large breasts had a slight sag and were capped by areola that was a mulberry in color and no more than the width of a $.50 piece, her nipples were nice and hard, long rubbery tips that were surrounded by smaller bumps. She was totally shaved below, with a sliver of a meat curtain hanging from her otherwise closed pussy. She had soaped up her hands and proceeded to wash my neck, then down to my shoulders and over my chest, tweaking my nipples between her fingers, causing me to gasp out loud. She took my hard cock in my hands and liberally soaped it, my balls and around to my anus, pausing to run her fingers over my sphincter, once again causing me to gasp. I returned the favor, washing her with a sponge, brushing the roughness over her sensitive nipples and down over her stomach, I ran my middle finger through her furrow, feeling her wetness and listening to mom struggle for breath as I slid my finger over her clitoris. I knelt down in front of her and she squealed with delight as she thrust her foot on the bench behind us, giving me complete access to her womanhood. She ground down against me as I literally inhaled her whole vagina into my mouth, allowing my tongue to investigate the channel between her puffed labia. I concentrated on trying to make her cum, which she did almost as quickly as I did, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled it hard into her cunt, grinding against my face and wailing like a Banshee. I did not disembark from her vagina; I just maintained my tongue fuck as she continued to grind against me, riding the wave of an intense, long orgasm. As she came down, I pushed her forward to where her breasts were mashed against her shower wall and spread her cheeks wide and ensued licking and sucking her tight pink ass ring. She panted, "My big boy has done THAT before! I can't believe how hard you made me cum!" I was delighted to hear that as I stood behind her and nuzzled her neck and licked at her ears as I took her breasts in my hand, feeling their heft and tweaking her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, pulling them outwards. I sawed my cock back and forth between her sexy butt cheeks. "It's been a long time, Dax." Mom wheezed. "Go easy." She bent over enticingly, first revealing the cute dimples in the small of her back, then the chunky lips of her fat pussy. I gripped the base of my erection and ran my head through her labia, eliciting a sharp inhalation of breath, Mom looked back at me, hair wet and hanging in her face, lower lip sucked into her mouth. If I had not nutted twice in the last half hour, I know that look would have caused me to spew in an instant. "Ohhhh...please, slow baby, mommy hasn't been fucked in a long time..." I watched as my thick mushroom head popped into her honey hole, and then the prominent vein that ran along the top of my shaft was swallowed by her greedy cunt. Finally, I was buried in her, all the way to the root. She matched me stroke for stroke, rotating her hips when I was buried in her, giving me as much pleasure as I hoped that I was giving her. Mom babbled to me in French, which was incredibly erotic, I knew that I was close, I wanted to hold out until I could make her cum, I gripped her hip with my right hand and reached up and seized her left trapezius and began slamming into her like a jackhammer, mom ferally flailing her head, screaming at the top of her lungs, brutishly polishing her engorged clitoris, a wicked orgasm coursing through her body. "DDDDDDDAAAAAAAXXXXXX!!!! Never stop fucking meeeeeee!" "Oh, mom, I'm gonna cum!" "Not in me, don't finish inside!" Not without great effort, I pulled out and erupted onto her lower back, groaning with the force of my orgasm. Mom turned and kissed me deeply, breathing like a runaway freight train. Later, mom came downstairs as I was watching TV. "Want to go grab some dinner, hon?" "Yeah, I'm starving!" Wordlessly, we got onto the elevator; I pushed the button for the parking garage and stood back, shoulder to shoulder with my new lover. She reached over and interlaced her fingers with mine, squeezing my hand tightly. "If you keep what happened between us," mom smiled, "I would love to do that again, maybe I would even go on the pill for you." "My lips are sealed, Mommy dear, my lips are sealed!"