Chapter 8

The next morning

I awoke the morning after Mom’s wedding to Michael and Anastassia’s to Oswald, my head aching from the wine and my cock sore from the previous night’s orgy. I lost track of who had fucked whom, of course, as it was a bit of a blur after so much to drink ... and smoke. Yeah, we had broken out the weed, too, after a while. We definitely had a bit of an adventure, even if Mom was rather weak and not able to keep up to the same level. Even she had a good time, too, to a certain extent.

“Hey, baby, so nice to wake up in your arms!” Mom told me in a thin, raspy voice now, making me realize that I was in bed with her.

“Oh, hi, Mom ... how are you? You seem ... drained,” I worried openly about her, even as my dick felt her soft, smooth buns against it.

“Well, yeah, I am ... so are you, but in a much better way,” Mom answered me in a playful tone, making light of her ailing health.

“So ... we, did it again, huh?” I commented as she pulled me in for a deep tongue kiss.

“Oops?” Mom did her best Britney Spears impression, given that she was naked and had twenty years or so on the pop diva.

It wasn’t bad, actually. It was certainly cute and sexy in its own way, full of the vulnerability of my dear mother in her dying days. She wouldn’t have too many more days where she could even attempt to enjoy herself sexually, due to her rapidly growing cancer. I thought of that and my emerging boner grew a little limp. It was tough to keep a hard-on when remembering that my sweet mother would soon be dead.

Mom wasn’t stupid. She might have been hurt for a second as she saw my stiff cock wilt like warm lettuce, but then she saw the look in my eyes. She saw the pain of my knowledge that she would soon be gone from our midst, that she would soon be deceased. Then she understood. I didn’t lose my interest because she lacked sex appeal. I lost it because I recalled her mortality and her imminent demise. She pulled me closer and kissed me softly on the lips again.

“I know ... I know. You’re gonna miss Mommy. You’re sad even thinking about it. But for now, honey, Mama Bear needs some lovin’ and is countin’ on her bigger cub to give it to her. So, dry up those tears for a little, man up, and let Mommy get you good and hard again so you can satisfy her needs. I don’t have that many more lays ahead of me, after all,” Mom laughed ruefully as she teased me and stroked my cock to get me harder.

“Mom, you need to be careful. Your lungs are weak and you can’t breathe as you used to do,” I worried openly about her health.

“Oh, hush you! I don’t have many days left of being to fuck, that’s true. So let me enjoy the few days left before my lungs won’t allow it. A day, two, or three at the most. It’s bad enough that I won’t really get to enjoy most of my marriage, as long as it lasts. This cancer is killing me fast, and it’s true that smoking and fucking will speed things up, but I want to wring what little joy I can out of it before I take the Great Dirt Nap, okay, baby?” Mom managed to say.

“Okay, but I have to do the hard work. No cowgirl stuff, Mom. I mean it. No reverse cowgirl, either. I have to be the active partner here. Conserve your strength and especially your breath, Mom,” I tried to limit the damage.

I wasn’t drunk or high, full of lust and irrational exuberance as I was last night. Now, in the cold light of the morning after, I was genuinely concerned at the way that Mom exerted herself, in bed and out of it as she put on a brave front and concealed the aggressive rate of the cancer’s spread. It was already terminal and every time she fucked, she lost more of her limited, already borrowed time. Then again, that was also true of every cigarette Mom smoked now that she was a dying woman.

Sure, there were practical reasons for this, such as sorting out the rest of her legal and financial affairs, but most of all, I hated the thought of losing Mom. For all of her flaws, I still loved my mother, after all. So did Amy, of course. She was my last surviving parent, but I was never that close to Dad, anyway. Mom was a constant, whatever my issues with her. I never appreciated her more than now that I was about to lose her.

“I know that you’re worried about me, honey, but if you love your Mama, give me some of that lovin’ now, please!” Mom breathlessly asked me as I took her missionary-style and kissed her face repeatedly.

I gripped Mom’s buns as we screwed as vigorously as I dared, always keeping my ear out for her lungs. I didn’t want her to die in the middle of the act, that much was sure. Granted, she wasn’t as frail as she might have been on chemo or radiation, but she was literally dying. She had a terminal cancer and it was in her lungs, after all. It would be too easy to push things too far and cause her to asphyxiate.

I softly, slowly humped Mom, treading that line rather carefully between too gentle and too rough. She laughed a little as she wiggled away for a second and put herself on her belly, causing me to take her from behind now. That felt a little weird and awkward, as doggy-style was usually a position that I chose for rough sex rather than making sweet love to a woman. It was strange to use this position for more easygoing intercourse, but if Mom wanted it that way, so be it.

I still admired her lovely buttocks as I took Mom from behind, kissing her neck and shoulders as we coupled now. I heard her slow, shallow breaths as we mated, her growing excitement as she began creaming herself from the awareness that her own flesh and blood, kith and kin, was inside her delectable body. We carried on for a little bit as I pumped in and out of her, my every stroke rather self-conscious as I tried to be careful not to push her too far, too hard, or too fast. Perhaps concerned that my anxiety might cause me to go soft again, Mom clenched me at last with a vise-like grip from her pussy walls and caused me to erupt inside her just as I admired her back dimples one last time.