Chapter 15: Dividends

Dear Reader

We are nearly half way done, and no real villain on the horizon yet? My concept of how to tell tales, falls in two categories. The immersible kind, where you identify with the protagonist, become obsessed, oblivious to everything but the story. And the narrative. Not necessarily narrative in style, but in effect. In a narrative, neither writer nor reader is forgetful, it’s only telling a story, a one sided conversation. Allows ad-libs to the audience. Like this note.

This is what I write. I’m not any good at the immersion story. Probably not very good at narration either. Your comments make the conversation more two sided.

I spend a lot of words on mundane daily activities, relationships, and minor problems. That’s life. Coping with life’s ordinary circumstances, until... ? ... SHTF!

“There are no extraordinary men ... just extraordinary circumstances that ordinary men are forced to deal with.” Admiral William Halsey

When does the villain and crisis show up? Already has? Maybe. Like in real life, it’s the unexpected, the overlooked, unprepared for, bites you in your ass!

“Happy, Baby?” Mama asks. How could I be otherwise?

“How about you, Mama?”

“Want to fuck your Mommy? “ We must be related, to be so like minded, I answer.

She kicks the covering sheet away, and pulls me, guides me between her legs. This is the position she prefers. Missionary. Face to face, tits up, flat on her back, never changing, except when we are just cuddling. She let’s me fuck her in various cuddles, but when it gets passionate, heats up, when it’s the race to the finish?

She rolls onto her back and pulls me on top of her. For some good old male dominant, missionary position, belly to belly, hammer assed, old time fuckin.

Mom has subtly changed. Little mannerisms, small details in facial expressions and body language, slight changes in style, gestures a tiny bit more flamboyant or more graceful, less hesitant to flirt and tease. Quicker to laugh and giggle. Nothing alarming. Nothing remarkable. Nothing definable like, this is new, she was doing this another way before.

In some aspects, she’s changed in obvious, easily recognized ways. Happier, healthier, slimmer, and more beautiful than ever. But the little changes intrigue me. It’s as if, she is unconsciously copying, being influenced by, a recent new acquaintance, or someone we haven’t met yet, or can’t quite remember. Can’t identify. Can’t say, that’s her, that’s who Mom imitates. There’s a sense of deja vu.

Today, she adds something new to the missionary position. Not innovative, just something I haven’t seen Mom do before. She laced her fingers behind her neck.

Such a small, almost effortless change, but it changes everything. Her armpits hair is exposed, a turn-on for me.

This pose lifts her ribcage and her breasts lift, too. Not dormant on her rib cage or flaccidly leaning on her upper arms at her sides. They’re proud, fuller, rounder. Arrogant breasts. This pose tautens her belly, arches her spine a bit, tilts her pelvis, changes the way the fat roll on her lower abdomen meets her fat pudenda. Plumps up both. Very attractive. Very sexy. I can’t keep my hands off of her.

Her knees lie flat on the mattress, at right angles to her torso. Babies can do this, but not many adults are limber enough. The corded groin tendons are very prominent, and so is her mound. Rubbing my palms over the silky skin, I express by touch, my appreciation of her exposed inner thighs and the tendons intimately near her pussy. Lovely woman. Beautiful Mommy. I love touching her.

Leaning in, I divide her sticky lips, with my tongue. The lid lifted on a simmering pot, fills the house with it’s steamy perfume of savory herbs. Similar occurs, when her meaty labia part. Her pheromones escape, rush into my face. Fill my nostrils. Take my breath away. The exquisite perfume of an aroused woman inundates me.

Many think our bodies shouldn’t have an odor, not be allowed any odors.

Only the odors of flowers, spices, grasses, or oiled leathers. Perfume scents

What idiot taught us this? Deodorant and perfume makers, sellers? On TV?

It’s a learned prejudice, brain wash, from TV advertisers. Not natural at all.

Reject it.

Pussy is the most attractive scent on earth. People who live inland, are ecstatic when they near the beach and can smell the “Ocean”. Seaman call that same scent, “ Land” smell. It’s the odor of salt marsh, tidal mud flats, dead fish, putrifying shellfish, and brackish water soup of rotting vegetation.

I love it, when the tides out on Mama. Other women, too.

Once, when I ( Will) was in Africa, I was obligated to entertain a government official and his plump wife, at dinner. Wearing traditional garb, of many layers, many yards of gold figured crimson cloth, wrapped around and around her, in intricate twists and folds, from her armpits to her sandaled ankles, she also wore a towering head-dress of the same material. The wife looked rich, very exotic and attractive. She turned heads wherever she passed. AWAY! Whew, she stank! Erotically and exotically, funky, too! Her husband was embarrassed by, for her. Dinner was cut short. An urgent phone call, I suspect he arranged it, lured him elsewhere. He insisted on taking his wife home first. She insisted she be allowed to finish her dinner first. They argued. Harsh angry words followed.

Promptly, she followed ME! Back to my room, after he stormed out without her. I spun her out of her finery like a top, leaving only the gorgeous head-dress on, and I had her every which way, as my dessert. Candied pussy! Been marinating some time. Pungent aroma, equals flavorful. Once you’re past the smell? She tasted sweet as molasses. Said she just knew I was a pussy muncher, and charmed by her perfume, when we were introduced. Partly, by the way my nostrils flared and quivered. Partly, the hungry way I looked at her. Partly, because I sniffed and licked her fingers while kissing her hand. Said, she nearly fainted from sexual excitement, and terror her husband might have seen me. She dabs pussy funk behind her ears and on wrist pulse points, deliberately, on purpose to attract ladies-men. Just like me. Her husband hasn’t touched her in years, can’t tolerate the way she smells, and has two other wives, as permitted by Muslim law. She stayed with me and fucked me for three days. She cried when Will left, and still writes to him.