After hour of lovemaking, we started winding up the parade during "Dennis the Menace" and culminated our lust while listening to "Leave It To Beaver". We were incapable of having a quickie. Mom sometimes visited my room in the wee hours of the morning but even those occasions rarely consumed less than two hours. The only thing we managed in a short period of time was our regular weekend blowjob. Mom knew I couldn't last through a weekend so she looked after me. But even that took half an hour. We simply couldn't be together without squeezing every ounce of enjoyment from one another. I think that's why we were initially attracted to each other. It wasn't a mother-son thing, it was a recognition of what each other desired. Somehow, we both knew what the other craved.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
On second thought, there is one occasion worth sharing. One afternoon, while Dennis was being a particularly bad brat, Mom started nibbling the condom off my cock. Usually, she let me fuck her mouth with my bare cock before moving on to the grande finale but she had insisted I wear one right from the start that day. So I was surprised when she started chewing it off.
"You want it on your face today?" I huffed.
"Mmm baby. Let me get it off."
"You want it on your face?" I repeated.
"I want your bare cock," Mom panted.
"You got it baby. Peel that sucker off."
"Come on," I urged. "Chew it off."
I was getting hot at the thought of her wanting me to spew all over her face instead of it just happening. I had to admit, I loved the look of my spunk on her face, but when more got on there rather than in her mouth, I pretended it was an accident because I thought she didn't really like it. Yet, now she was begging for it, desperate for me to unload on her pretty face. What a fantastic woman!
Mom finally got the condom off and I tried to plunge it into her mouth to bring myself to the brink so I could unload. Pushing into her throat always got me there, but Mom clamped her lips shut and I sk**ded over her face. Undeterred, I grabbed my cock and started wanking off, already huffing and puffing at the thought of unloading on her willing face.
"Fill me," Mom gasped.
"So open your mouth," I cried, wanking faster.
"No, fill me," Mom cried, stressing the last word.
"Then open your fucking mouth," I wailed desperately, already feeling the twinge that signaled an impending eruption.
"Fill me, fill ME" Mom shouted.
I looked into her pleading eyes, saw the desperate need there, queried with my own look and found the answer that shocked me but which I knew to the depth of my being was what Mom wanted. I stood up, stumbled toward the couch, turned, and kneeled in front of Mom's upturned pussy, I sank deep within her, burying my whole, bare cock.
One, two, three strokes. I was coming, like never before, truly exploding. I threw back my head and wailed. I was coming, for the first time the way God meant me to come, free and full, oh so full, emptying my seed into my mother, not just cum, but my seed.
What mischief will be born of this day?" I wondered as the last, wrenching gob squeezed past my brutalized tip.
I collapsed between Mom's wide open, tied thighs, and reached back to release her wrists from the side of her ankles. Immediately, Mom threw her arms around me and clasped me tight. We kissed, pulled back to look at each other, and cried.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
On third thought, I guess I should tell you about Mrs. D****r. I've already mentioned that we became more sophisticated in our methods and the equipment we used. I didn't tell you that Mrs. D****r never charged me a cent for any of it. She was, however, curious. At first she hinted, and later outright asked, to meet my sexy girlfriend. Mrs. D****r always asked how she liked the things she provided me and I sensed she had more than a passing interest. I had a growing sense that Mrs. D****r was bi, even if she didn't know or admit it. That would figure. The ones that were so attractive to men preferred women.
Anyway, the day came when I cockily answered the door even though Mom was wrapped up in rope in the middle of the living room floor, kneeling on a sheet and watching "Dennis the Menace". I had done this once before to receive a package from UPS. Mom had almost had a fit but afterward she was so excited by the thought we could have been discovered. So this time, Mom protested, but not too vigorously. She was more playing the expected role in our game.
"Mrs. D****r," I almost shouted, both surprised and wanting Mom to know this was an order of magnitude beyond the UPS guy on the excitement scale.
"How many times have I told you to call me Lisa?"
"I don't know. I guess I just like calling you Mrs. D****r."
"Do you have a thing for older women, Heck?" she teased.
I blushed. I was bare-chested and bare-footed, having answered the door wearing only my pants since I was expecting a UPS guy. But that wasn't why I was blushing. Mrs. D****r had no idea how close to the truth she was. I shook my head.
"Well, if you don't let me meet Samantha, I'll find her and tell her about your secret fantasy."
First of all, Samantha was the name I had divulged under pressure as the name of my supposed girlfriend. Secondly, Samantha was my Mom's middle name. There was a muffled gasp from the living room. Mrs. D****r tried to look beyond the door but couldn't see past me.
"I thought it was just your Dad that was out of town. Did your mother go to?"
Caught off guard, I stumbled for an answer. "Well, um, uh, actually she..."
Mrs. D****r caught me completely by surprise when she bolted past me.
"Samantha, it's so nice to finally meet you. Heck has told me so much...What the fuck?"
I turned around. Mrs. D****r was standing behind me in the entranceway, looking into the living room, in utter shock. I turned and quickly caught up to her. Mom was craning her neck to the side, mirroring the look on Mrs. D****r's face but her hips were churning on the vibrator tied up against her yearning pussy. We'd been at it for hours and Mom was incapable of stopping.
"Uh, Lisa, meet Samantha. Samantha, Lisa," I mumbled, inanely.
Mrs. D****r took a step toward Mom. I put my hand on her arm to restrain her and she paused but then leaned forward and I let her go. She took three more steps and stopped in front of Mom.
"I don't believe this."
"Lisa, you can't say anything, to anyone."
"No, of course not. This is so fantastic, so much better than I ever imagined. You look so wonderful, so sexy, so fucking hot," Mrs. D****r spoke directly to Mom.
Mom looked up at Mrs. D****r, despair at being discovered plainly evident on her face, mixed in with the lust to which she would soon succumb.
"Don't worry, honey. My lips are sealed, unless you want them open, for you."
A new kind of shock washed over Mom's face, then gave way to understanding, but not acceptance.
"Wait. I'll be right back."
Mrs. D****r ran into the kitchen. I followed her. She was bent over the sink, the tap already on, leaning in, scrubbing her face.
"Get me a towel," she cried.
I grabbed a dish towel and handed it to her when she pulled her head out of the sink. Mrs. D****r immediately buried her face in it and rubbed it vigorously all over. She scrubbed so hard I worried that she might hurt herself. Did she not believe what her eyes had seen? Was she trying to scrub her eyes out?
Mrs. D****r stood up and flung the towel at me.
"How do I look?"
I had never seen her without makeup.
"Fine," I answered.
"You look very clean. Rosy and fresh," I added.
Mrs. D****r rushed out of the kitchen and I followed. She was standing in front of Mom.
"Better?" she asked.
Mom looked up, looking as perplexed as I felt.
"Maybe this will make it better," Mrs. D****r said.
With that, she grabbed the top of her head, fingers sinking into her perfectly coiffed bleached-blonde hair, and tore it off.
My mouth dropped open, and so did Mom's.
Under the wig, Mrs. D****r's real dark brown hair was cut in a boyish cut but it looked cute and sexy on her. Without the bleach-blonded wig and overly thick make-up, Lisa looked like one hell of a sexy thirty-something MILF, except she wasn't a mother.
Mrs. D****r lifted her right foot and loosened the strap holding her shoe on, peeled it off, and let it drop on the rug, then did the same with the left. In no hurry, she reached under her skirt and dragged her panties down over her nice legs. She flung them at me without looking to see where they landed. I caught them and watched as Mrs. D****r bent her knees and slowly lowered herself, feet planted on the outside of Mom's thighs, until her tummy was pressed to Mom's and she captured the part of the vibrator that was protruding beyond Mom's own pussy. They both moaned loudly together and I realized that I hadn't shut the front door. I turned away to close it.
When I returned, Mrs. D****r's hips were moving with Mom. She had unzipped the back of her dress and was pulling it over her head. When she threw it away, her breasts bounced on her chest before she moved closer to let them caress Mom's tits. They weren't bad, not bad at all.
I shucked my pants. Having not bothered to put underwear on to answer the door, my cock sprang out, long and hard. I walked close to them, slowly stroking my cock. Mrs. D****r looked at me, smiled, and opened her mouth.
"It's about time, Heck."
I wanted to fill her face but I declined, simply shaking my head. Mrs. D****r understood. She turned back to Mom and kissed her. This was their moment, and mine to, but to share. They were the central actors in this scene; my time would come later and I knew it would be better if I waited. That was, after all, the underlying them of all the sex between Mom and me. I stroked my cock slowly and got off on the expressions on Mom and Mrs. D****r's faces.
It took longer than I thought but eventually Mrs. D****r turned looked at me again, this time with an enormously satisfied grin on her face. Mom looked at me too with much the same look. They both opened their mouths at the same time. What a choice, I mean, what a fucking choice.
I sank it into Mom's mouth first. Loyalty, you might ask? Perhaps, but at the time I thought I wanted Mrs. D****r to see how it was properly done. I wanted her to see how Mom took it deep, really deep, on the first thrust.
Mrs. D****r was only the second woman to give me a blowjob. She learned fast and it was hard not to come even with all the training I had received holding off from fucking Mom while she was tied up, spread and available, for hours. Dipping my cock first through one warm and wet set of tonsils only to plunged it deep into another waiting mouth, then back, and switching again, over and over. I mean, who would ever want that to stop? Not me. I was proud of how long I lasted.
Man, to come all over two eager faces. What a fucking rush. Dad was gone for three days. Three glorious days during which Mrs. D****r was at our house almost the whole time. She looked so good I could never understand why she wore all that make-up and that stupid bleached-blond wig. To see her naked, standing naturally, without a push-up bra or a stretchy tank-top artificially lifting her wonderful breasts. She had a really nice set of slopey hangers, I mean, the way the slung down and then jutted out with those longish nipples. Fucking fantastic.
Almost as good as Mom's.
I was a spoiled boy, a very spoiled boy, for years.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Yes, years. But it all had to come to an end. For a time, we thought Mom was pregnant but she miscarried. One day, she came home with the news. She was sick, very sick. The first night Dad was out of town, she and I and Mrs. D****r watched old movies in the living room in the flickering light of dozens of candles. We didn't have sex but we cuddled a lot and cried too.
After Mom was gone, Mrs. D****r stopped coming. Not right away, but it wasn't the same with just the two of us. We needed Mom and she wasn't there no matter how much we told each other she was. We drifted apart.
Dad started a relationship with one of the women he knew from work shortly after Mom was gone. I knew in my heart that it had started long before Mom became sick and I hated him for it. I wasn't that sad when he got sick too. Well, at first I wasn't but he was my Dad after all and he had been a great one when I was young. I imagine he hadn't been a bad husband to Mom either, back in the day, but they grew out of love. They were just comfortable together.
So I ended up alone in the house I was raised in, a house full of memories, too many memories. I put the house up for sale and started looking for another place to live but soon came to the realization that I needed to move away, far away.
I was more than surprised when I received the call.
"Yes, didn't your mother tell you about me?"
"Um, Dad mentioned that Mom had a half-s****r that Mom didn't talk about."
"That's rich. Actually, it was your father didn't like to talk about me."
"I don't get it."
"Your father wasn't comfortable with me around."
"No, you don't. Look, my husband and I just moved into the area and I'd like to get to know you. I think Sam would like it."
"You mean Lilly."
"No, I mean Sam. She hated her first name but your father insisted on using it."
"Whatever. Look Samantha, I'm moving so I don't think...," I paused unintentionally as the fact that Mom's half-s****r's name was the same as Mom's middle name.
"Your mother sent me some things I think you should have," Samantha took advantage of the pause.
"I can't tell you over the phone. They're...personal. I can't keep them and I don't think your mother would want them destroyed. I think they're for you. I don't know why she sent them to me."
"Okay. Tomorrow at ten, but I've got to be somewhere for 10:30."
"That's fine. I don't want to impose. I know you don't know me. I mean, I'd love to get to know you, for Sam's sake, but I understand, really I do. I'll just drop these things off and be gone."
She hung up.
I felt bad. I didn't have to be such a prick but she caught me by surprise. I remember Mom mentioning her a couple of times, accidentally, and then trying to cover up. Once, she had become really flustered after I had picked up an old picture of Gramps and Mom and this little girl, way younger than Mom. I asked her who it was but Mom just turned and walked away from me. That's when Dad had said it was Mom's half-s****r and I shouldn't ask Mom about her. So what Samantha said didn't square up with my memory. I decided not to get rid of her so quickly. I wanted to find out more about her because she was a part of Mom that I didn't know anything about.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Oh my God, this was going to be way harder than I thought. My eyes teared up. Samantha, this strange woman standing in the doorway that looked the spitting image of Mom, at least, in pictures of her when I was about nine or ten years old. She was in her thirties, maybe thirty-five or six, and a dead ringer for Mom. She stretched out her hand and laid it on my arm.
"I'm sorry, Heck. I should have warned you."
I turned away and shuffled into the house. I meant to go into the kitchen, to keep things sterile and formal, but I sat on the couch instead. Samantha followed me after closing the door and sat beside me, leaving almost enough room for another person to sit between us. She angled toward me and smoothed her skirt over her knees. Nice knees, held tight together. Very proper. I looked up, noticing that she was very nicely dressed, quite conservative, with make-up tastefully applied on her very pretty face.
"It's just that you..."
"You could be twins. How could half-s****r's look so much alike?"
"Well, we had the same father?"
"The same father? Oh, I thought, I don't know why, but I always thought it was the same mother and different fathers."
An odd expression came over Samantha's face. "No," was all she said.
I probed, "Are you sure?"
She smiled. "Yes, Heck, I'm sure. We definitely had different mothers."
I nodded, dumbly, staring at her. I just couldn't take my eyes off her. It was as if I was sitting with Mom before I really knew her.
"Well anyway, Heck, I've brought these things." Samantha pulled the straps of a cloth bag off her shoulder and pulled them over her arm. She put the bag on the couch between us. "I know you really want me to be on my way, so..."
I put my hand out and caught her by the wrist. It was like getting an electric shock and I quickly released her arm.
"No, uh, stay. I was rude to you on the phone. I'm sorry. Let me make you some tea, or no, let's have a drink."
"I don't drink."
"Tea then. I'll make us some tea."
"I don't know. I really should be going. I don't think it's a good idea for me to stay."
"Please. You said Mom wanted us to get together. Stay, for her sake at least."
"Okay, but not for long."
I forgot about the offer to make tea and grabbed the bag. I dug into it. It was full of DVD's and USB memory sticks.
"What's all this?"
"Oh, I don't think we should, I mean, I think you should wait until I'm gone to..."
I took a DVD to the player and slid it in. Samantha got up and started for the door.
She turned and looked at me.
"You've watched these?"
Samantha nodded, hesitantly.
"Stay and watch it with me. I don't think I can do it alone."
"I don't think I can. I shouldn't."
I went to her and grabbed her arm. Backing up, I tugged Mom's half-s****r back to the couch and sat down, pulling her with me. I put the bag on the floor and shifted closer to her, found the remote, and turned the TV on.
Mom was looking up at the camera. She stepped back, smiling. She looked lovely in one of her best June Cleaver outfits. She turned her back to the camera, which must have been mounted in the corner above Dad's chair. I looked but didn't seen anything there. I looked back at the TV. Mom was spreading a sheet on the floor. The veins in my neck bulged and I became intensely aware of Samantha sitting next to me. What the hell had Mom done?
Mom disappeared but soon returned. She stood on a stool and put a rope through the ring on the ceiling, the one I was always amazed that Dad never noticed. When the loop was through, Mom stepped off the stool and put it aside. She turned on the TV. I couldn't see what was on but soon realized by the sound it was "The Walton's". Mom connected the rope to the hand bracelets, raised her arms, and kicked the rope down until she could step on it, pinching it to the rug, then used her other foot to wind the rope around her leg.
Mom hung from the rope for about five minutes. Samantha and I watched, sitting stone still, neither of us looking at the other. Mom began squirming and I realized that she had something under her skirt. A memory flashed into my mind, a memory of coming home to find Mom, dressed in this very June Cleaver outfit, the big orange dildo sucked all the way inside her. She had been wild with lust after hours of waiting and preparing herself for me.
In another five minutes the sound on the TV abruptly changed and I realized that the movie had been edited. The single DVD must contain a whole day of fun enjoyed by me and Mom. I lifted an edge of the cloth bag on the couch looked inside. There must be fifty DVDs and a dozen memory sticks in there, years of i****tual sex that Mom had sent to her half-s****r. Why? Why had she given us away when nobody knew except for Mrs. D****r. Why?