Chapter 5

I saw the blue spruce sitting on the patio when I got home. With dad gone, it fell to me and mom to decorate the tree.

As I ogled mom now, I recalled that conversation. “Sure mom! Just like always.”

My hand trembled as I pull the comb through my mother’s tangled pussy hair. Her wetness increased as I did. When I finished combing, her pubic hair was damp with her juices. The wetness caused the streaks of grey to sparkle amidst her silken black thatch.

“We’re going to shave it bare this time, right?” Mom spoke with a childlike exuberance. I realized I was getting a peek into my parent’s sex life. This was something they once shared. I wondered what else happened in their private moments.

“Right mom! Right!” My throat was parched. I swallowed hard.

The first trim with the scissors was not so bad. That is if you accept the fact that I had to rest the edge of my hand on her hood as I trimmed her Mons. An unmistakable wetness covered the palm of my hand. A familiar arousing aroma wafted up as I used my hand to push my mom’s pussy lips first to one side then the other as I trimmed the hair in the crease between her pussy lips and her thigh.

My cock, trapped in my jeans, ached. Several times I stopped to adjust it. Finally, realizing false modesty was out of place, I stopped and pulled off my jeans. I sighed with relief. I was stunned to see mom openly eyeing the bulge in my jockeys. She licked her lips and smiled at me.

“Do you want me to suck it now, Tommy?”

I noticed she kept calling me Tommy. She had not called me Tommy since I was in my early teens. Not since, in a moment of pubescent ire, I refused to answer to what I thought was a childish name. I wanted to be Tom, the grown up. My parents indulged me. From that time on, I was Tom. Calling me Tommy suggested, in some ways, she had regressed.

“No, mom! You don’t have to suck it!”

“I have wanted to for a long time, you know.”

“Wait! What? I’m sorry, mom! What did you just say?” My head buzzed with my arousal.

“After I saw you jacking off watching your father and I fuck, I developed this over powering urge to suck your cock. I used to stand in your bedroom door at night while you slept watching it tent the sheets. I would touch myself and wonder how it would feel in my mouth.”

It was a stunning revelation. While I lusted after mom, she lusted after me. My cock pulsed, squirting precum into my shorts.

“Mom,’ I said earnestly, “you have to stop talking like that.”

“I did, Tommy, I did! Are we going to decorate the tree when you finish shaving my pussy?”

“Yes mom,” I croaked, “we need to get this done so we can decorate the tree.”

“Are you going to let me feel your cock in my mouth? Your father says I’m an excellent cocksucker.”

“Mom, please! Stop talking like that. Stop pumping your hips, mom,” I whimpered, “I don’t want to cut you.”

“I’ll try, Tommy,” she whispered, “but it feels so good. Your father used to shave me. He always kissed my pussy after he finished.” She pouted a little. “But as we got older, he lost interest.”

“TMI, mom, TMI!”

“If you want to kiss it, I wouldn’t mind!”

I held one lip delicately between my thumb and forefinger as I trimmed her pussy hair. Mom was so wet. my fingers kept slipping. I repeatedly dried my fingers on the towel.

I gently pushed her ass cheeks apart. There were a few scraggly hairs on the lower part of mom’s pussy near her anus. I leaned in close, carefully trimming them. Her swollen labia lay open, revealing the pinkish interior. They gleamed wetly. A whitish fluid oozed continuously from the lower edge of her pussy. The musky pungent aroma of mom’s arousal overwhelmed my nostrils.

“Do you remember that time you watched me and your father fuck by the Christmas tree,” mom asked, her voice low and throaty.

“Yes mom! I remember!”

“I came really hard knowing you watched your father and I.”

“Mom! Please!”

“It was then I began craving your cock. Back then, I was ashamed for having such thoughts. It made me fell so depraved to watch my son masturbate while your father fucked me. I began to fantasize it was your cock in me instead of your father’s. I came so hard ... so hard!”

“Mom you must stop talking like that!”

Mom’s hips pumped slowly as I trimmed the last straggly hair.

“Tommy?”

“Yes mom.”

“I’m not ashamed anymore!”

“I need to warm a towel,” I muttered as I stood.

I realized I was seeing the effects of Cognitive Decline. Mom’s societal strictures were gone. Her most secret thoughts, the ones someone once said would shame hell, were coming out. She always wanted to fuck me!

My cock popped through the slit of my shorts. As I struggled to stuff it back, mom watched. Her eyes were large, luminous. I could hear the soft whistle of her breathing through her open mouth.

I went into the bathroom and ran hot water over the towel to warm it. The temptation to jack off was overpowering. I knew I would later. I would not need a fantasy image. I would have the clear recent image of my mother’s pussy.

Returning to the bedroom, my hands trembled as I placed the warm towel over mom’s pussy and molded it around it. I rocked back on my heels. Sweat streamed down my body. It poured from my face, chest, arms, and thighs. There was an incredible ache in my rigid member. I could hear the blood roaring in my ears as began its journey down to my cock and back again. I needed to come! I needed to come badly and urgently.

I removed the towel and lightly ran my hand over mom’s remaining stubble. It was soft and pliant.

“You see how wet I am, Tommy?”