6 comments/ 39881 views/ 27 favorites War and Peace By: rikkitampa2014 A College Grad has Daily Sex with his Mother Connecticut, 1979 A ringing phone disturbed our afternoon nap. Mother lifted her head off my shoulder. "Don't answer it," I said. She answered it. It was Ellen. Oh god, it was Ellen. As my famous grandfather used to say, "Ellen could talk the rearend off a mule." I got up. I was naked, as was my mother. The sheet now covered her from the waist down. She cupped the phone. "Where are you going?" "The bathroom." I peed and came back. I was ticked. I'd just settled into a light, dreamy, post-coital sleep when the phone rang. Like a cooling breeze filling a curtain—that kind of sleep. It was a hot summer afternoon, however. I stacked my pillows vertically against the headboard and leaned against them. I thought about picking up my book, which lay open and face-down on the bedtable, but decided against it. How could I concentrate on War and Peace with all the gossipy chit-chat going on three feet away? You want some racy gossip, Ellen, I thought. How about this? Your best friend Dierdre and her son, a recent college grad, are lying naked in bed together. They just finished having sex not fifteen minutes ago. They have sex every weekday afternoon now. Well, every afternoon that Frank, Dierdre's husband and the father of her only child, remains at his New York office. The incestuous relations have been going on for weeks now! And it's mind-blowingly great! How's that for a juicy piece of gossip about one's friend? I'm home for the summer having, as I say, just graduated from college in May. I start grad school in September. A Masters in Finance awaits me. My path is chosen. However, due to this, ahem, recent turn of events with my mother I'm now considering ditching Yale and enrolling in a similar program at nearby UConn. It will cost Frank a few thousand nonrefundable bucks but, so what, he has money to burn. And he won't like the step-down in my future degree's prestige but, again, who cares? What difference does it make? In another two years I join the firm—his firm. My path, as I say, is predestined. Mother is certainly in favor of it, and hers will be the deciding vote. My change in matriculation will mean that we can continue to have daily, or near daily, sex. It's become our joint addiction. I rolled my eyes. Dierdre was laughing at something Ellen had just told her. Probably something about a mutual friend. The two women were just getting started. This could go on for an hour. Mother was lying on her left hip, leaning toward the bedtable and presenting her back to me. I was already growing impatient. I tapped her shoulder, raised my palms. She cupped the phone, looked around. I could hear Ellen jabbering nonstop on the other end of the line. "What?" Dierdre mouthed. "I'm in the room too, you know." Dierdre waved a hand of dismissal and presented her back to me again. Bitch. It all began quite by accident, I assure you. In early June, on a warm muggy afternoon, I was sitting up in bed reading, wearing nothing but basketball shorts. Actually I'd placed War and Peace face-down on my chest and had closed my eyes for a minute. A few minutes, to be honest. Mother's voice startled me. "Are you sleeping?" she asked from just inside the bedroom doorway. Mother was wearing her tennis outfit. I assumed she'd finished playing a game on one of our backyard courts. "No. Just...taking a break." "It's hard to concentrate in this heat. I cut the game with Phillipe short." Phillipe, a third-rate pro who made ends meet by giving lessons to middle-aged rich females, was only a few years older than me. It was hard not to believe he provided the side service of fucking many of his "students." "How is Phillipe?" I asked. "Phillipe is great. Why that tone?" "What tone?" "That tone." "I merely asked how Phillipe is." "Jealous?" "Jealous!" War and Peace slid down my chest as my back stiffened. Mother yawned, waving a hand in front of her open mouth. She was dressed in tennis whites and her pleated skirt barely hung to the tops of her tanned thighs. And mother has great thighs. Great thighs. Once, in my sophomore year, Frank and Dierdre came to visit me in the new, off-campus apartment I shared with two other guys. After they left one of my roommates said to me: "Man, your mother's hot!" "Not bad for forty-something, hunh?" "No shit!" "A little plastic surgery hasn't hurt." "Are those her real boobs?" "No. But don't tell her that." He laughed. Later that night, when I heard him masturbating through the thin walls, I wondered if he was fantasizing about Dierdre. I know I sometimes still did. "Why don't you come take a nap next to me?" I now said, patting the empty half of the bed to my left. "I'll just be reading." "I just might do that," she replied. "But first I need a quick shower." Mother returned wearing a modest cotton knee-length gown. It appeared she was braless but I could tell she was wearing panties. Her freshly showered body was fragrant with bath oil. Without a word to me she slipped in and lay down on her back next to me. A foot or so of mattress separated us. She sighed. "It's so warm today. It's like West Palm. I keep after Frank about air-conditioning the bedrooms and he says... 'Air condition 16 bedrooms so they can be used 30 days out of the year...?'" "More like 90 days this summer," I said. "It's not like we can't afford it." "Hmph!" Mother concurred. Then she covered her eyes with a shapely arm. "I'm going to sleep," she announced. "You read your book." "OK," I said, glancing down at the contours of her breasts given shape by gown's cotton cling. Not to mention her nipple bumps. I am not saying that at this moment I began to have sexual thoughts about my beautiful mother; and I am not saying at this moment I began to get an erection. What I am saying is that I put my book aside and that I too took a nap at this point. And that owing to the involuntary convolutions of sleep I awoke to find that both I and my mother were now lying on our left sides and that, speaking of involuntary, my hard-on was pressed against her buttock. Left or right I wasn't sure. I froze. Panicked. What should I do! I attempted to slowly back away. Mother reached around. Put a restraining right hand on the back of my thigh. "Don't," she said. "You awake?" "Yes," I replied uncertainly, hoping this was just a dream. "Press against me again," mother said. "It feels good. I haven't felt anything this hard in ages." "I didn't mean it," I told her. "I'm sorry." "Why?" "I...It wasn't intentional." "Look," mother said, her restraining, urging right hand now on my buttock. "I know all about young men and their sleep erections, OK?" She laughed. "It's one of the wonders of nature." Not knowing what to say I blurted: "Really?" "Do you find me attractive?" mother asked. "Yes. Sure. You're...beautiful. Like a movie star." "I have a few good years left," she said with a shrug. "Would you like to put that big thing in me?" My heart was racing like a thoroughbred's hooves. I feared it would burst through my ribcage. "What?" "Would you?" "The two of us?" "I don't see a third." "You think...?" "Think what?" "That's a...good idea?" "Why isn't it a good idea? I can't get pregnant anymore. We're both consenting adults. I'm horny. You're very obviously horny..." "C-Can I confess something?" I stuttered. "What?" "I've never...I'm still a virgin. With a woman." "What about with a guy?" "I..." Mother laughed. "What better way to get your initiation than with an older woman who can show you the ropes?" "You're my mother." Dierdre sighed. "Exactly. Not to be vulgar but...do you want to fuck me or not?" "Uh...YES!" "Then get between my legs and put that big cock in me! I'm dying for it!" Ellen and Dierdre were still talking and, yes, I was growing jealous. Maddeningly so. Mother's back was still to me, and when I looked at the articulation of her spine I was reminded, for some reason, of Ingres' Grande Odalisque. (At one point I flirted with becoming an Art History major. Frank shot that idea down like a rhino in Africa, on one of his yearly safaris.) I leaned over and kissed the nape of mother's neck. I kissed her shoulder. And between her shoulder blades. I kissed, as she continued to chatter with Ellen, almost all the way down her spine. A somewhat compliant Dierdre revolved onto her flat belly. My progression continued. I kissed down to the top of her crack. I parted her firm cheeks and licked the redolent sweat between them. I kissed mother's asshole, something I'd never done before. I tongued its sweetness. I was hard again. "Oh god!" I heard Dierdre say. "I gotta go, Ellen..." A tiny, tinny, distant voice said: "What? Why? What's going on over there?" The phone fell on its spiral cord to the carpet. Dierdre raised up on her knees. I fucked her from behind. We'd fucked like this two or three times before but this was different. Special. Frantic. My stamina was improving with each afternoon session. I was now capable of giving my mother orgasms. She screamed. I was holding her—pinching her—by the flesh of her hips and slamming her white ass against my belly. She screamed again. I screamed. I'd cum inside my mother for the second time that afternoon. The room was spinning. It was surreal. I felt for a moment like I was on LSD. Mother revolved onto her back and I fell on top of her. We embraced. I kissed her on the lips. I kissed her hair, her cheek. Mommy! What bliss! A tinny, persistent voice said from the floor: "Dierdre, what's going on over there? Is that you? And Phillipe?" After I re-cradled the phone mother said to me, with a smile: "Next time I want you to fuck me up the ass."