Chapter 4

“Come on, mom! Let’s go shave you.”

She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Goody! Come on!” She turned and child like, skipped up the stairs, her large ass jiggling. I was embarrassed that I had a chubby as I watched her climb the stairs. Mentally I tried to separate what I had to do from what I wanted to do. I always wanted to fuck my mother.

In a psyche class, the professor opined that in addition to the natural lust to possess sexually the first and most important female in a young man’s life, there was a primitive element. Even in modern times, there was a natural competition between father and son for a wife and mother’s affection.

She went on to say that in our primeval history, families were tribal. A youth entering puberty announced his entrance into manhood by challenging the old chief for control of the tribe. If the youth succeeded in his challenge, having sex with his mother, the chief’s wife, established his control. The new chief solidified his control by fathering children with her. She went on to say that societal taboos on incest where an instinctive attempt to stop that primitive rite of passage.

That lecture was on my mind as I gathered the things in their en suite bathroom I would need to shave my mother’s pussy. I shook my head to clear it. I still had a nice buzz.

When I walked back into the master bedroom mom lay on her back on the bed. Her legs were splayed open as she fingered her pussy again. She inserted first one then two fingers in her vagina and pumped them vigorously. Her eyes were partially closed, her body shone with a light sheen of perspiration. Her breath whistled through her partially opened mouth.

She pulled her fingers from her pussy and suck them clean. All the time she held my eyes with an unmotherly sultry look. My cock was painfully hard as I watched her lascivious display.

“Your father used to love watching me finger fuck my pussy,” she simpered. “He doesn’t watch me anymore.”

I swallowed hard. “Mom, this is going to be difficult for both of us. Let’s just get it over with.”

“It’s not going to be difficult for me. I’m going to enjoy having my son shave me.”

Mom smiled. Then she moisten her lips, extending her tongue out to an improbably length and moving it wetly over her lips. Her illness was causing her to come on to me. I thought of their overly polite behavior and the lube behind the bar. My parents were having problems in their marriage, sexual problems. Mom’s stroke was causing her to act out her sexual frustrations.

I cleared my throat. “Okay mom! I need to put this towel under you to catch the hair.”

Smiling, she spread her legs. She grabbed each thigh with a hand and pulled her legs high above her head, lifting her ass off the bed. Her pussy lay open and wet. Below it her anus winked at me. Her pussy opened. I could see the wet pulsing pinkness between her engorged lips. It was surprising to see a woman of her size be so flexible. I shook my head to clear the image of me lying between those big thighs with my cock plunging into that wet hole.

“Like this, Tommy?”

“Yes, mom,” I croaked, “like that!”

Struggling to overcome my arousal, I knelt on the end of the bed. As I took the towel and tucked one end under my mom’s butt, I stared at her wet succulent pussy, with her brown eye pulsing just below it.

“Since the stroke, I’m always wet and horny. Your father gets angry with me because I always want him to fuck me. You won’t get angry with me, will you?”

I tore my eyes away from staring at my mom’s wet cunt. I looked up into her smiling face.

“No mom! I’m not going to get angry with you.” Realizing I left an open question, I quickly added, “and no, we are NOT going to have sex!”

“You know, I always wanted to fuck you.”

“WHAT? Mom! Please! You have to stop talking like this.”

“But I did, Tommy!”

I rocked back on my heels. The room swam dizzyingly. I drank on an empty stomach and the alcohol was going to my head. My dick pulsed painfully in my too tight jeans. My mom just confessed a repressed sexual desire for me. I knew it was the after effects of her illness. Still it played into the fantasies of my teenage years.

I was incredibly aroused at the thought of the intimate thing I was about to do, the thing she obviously wanted me to do, the thing my father urged me to do. She wanted more. I had to be the adult. My lust horrified me. However, I could not take advantage of my mother. I pushed doing the unthinkable to the back of my mind.