Chapter 2

This is not meant to be a stand alone story part. If you’ve got a little patience for how a Mother and Son might end up doing durty deeds together, please do check Pt 1 for the setup and some introduction on the flavor here.

For those who already have, there’s some pretty significant progress made here but we’re not just throwing it all down your throat right away. Thanks for taking an interest in these two participants and enjoying a little banter; please do make me aware of whether a narrative vehicle I used part way through here goes a little sideways cuz I’ve never quite tried a tool like that before. And most importantly? Enjoy your day. There’s Lives to Live. And we Must.

-n2

Following a fairly blissful nap I spent a few more hours lounging in my room - mostly in bed - contemplating the absurdity of what took place with my mother that morning over the phone. Did she really recommend I “shove my big cock down her throat” or something near to exactly that?

“Shove it up my cunt” but “I gotta taste it first” so “Show me what you want from me ... push my head down on you ... grab my hair and fuck my mouth ... I want your salty cum, all over Mama’s big pretty TITS!!”

That’s bonkers, right?

Could that ever even be an accurate daydream at all?

I mean, “Roleplaying”? I’m gonna need some convincing that’s really all there was to that call. On the other hand, how do I not fuck all that up? I don’t wanna have to fix all the broken pipes as she faintly indicate might be of some concern when we began. I couldn’t even start to fathom what this might mean for our relationship and how to slip that whole thing neatly into a box beneath the bed somehow.

Once again she knocked lightly on my door and pushed it apart a bit (as she had about an hour after I’d tossed a king’s ransom of jizz all over my sheets that morning).

She smiled at me simply. A little bit sheepishly but not entirely subdued.

“Made you a meal. If you wanna come down.”

Her words were also rather calm and simply said. There wasn’t any panic. No apology for anything she may regret. There was a softness to her tone that did recognize something absolutely inappropriate may have taken place between us mere hours ago. But she wasn’t quite pushing it away as I would have expected her to.

Whatever she’d been doing for those hours in between apparently reached some sort of Buddhist on the mountain quite effectively. Didn’t appear too troubled about it.

When I reached the kitchen table where all the chaos had begun a few hours before there was a plate of food sat on my side, some tinfoil over top, keeping it warm for me.

“I’m gonna watch a movie. You can join me when you finish. If you like. I’ll hold it for you.”

Then she left me for the living room.

Again, there was a tender and soft resolve to her movements. Her tone. Relaxed might not have been what I thought I’d see while I was up in my room pondering what a disaster this could create for us. Pandemic be damned, I’d just had phone sex with my mom! And she is DIRtee!!

I ate my meal uninterrupted.

The TV was on in the other room.

Nothing but bad coming out from the News.

When I was done I cleaned my plate and a few pots she had left over. Went in to join her where she’s at; tucked up in the corner of the couch somewhat, had a blanket piled around her.

“Horrible news. Nothing but. Help me watch something lots more pleasurable.”

Yikes. She might wanna choose her words more carefully. I’m compromised here.

“Oh, I didn’t mean...” she quickly recognized her faux paus. Put her hand over her mouth with a little bit of a grimace. Cute. But again, it wasn’t really an apology of any kind. Just an unintentional reference to something we perhaps won’t need to talk about at all.

She pat her hand to where I usually sit and I joined her.

“Wanna pick? Or me?” she offered the controller.

“I think you’ve earned the right to choose,” I smiled myself, a little devilishly.

She shook her head just a tad bit embarrassed but once again did not address the topic.

I forget what we watched. It doesn’t matter. It may have even been 2 movies back to back. I think the first one was a Comedy. Maybe they both were. And maybe we’d already seen the both of them before. Who cares.

Just me and my mom there. Doing what we more normally do.

Not a lot of words were shared, if any. Maybe a comment here and there on what was happening on screen. I was really quite relieved. I guess you maybe CAN have sex with your mom on the phone and then NOT burn in Hell? Okay then. Kewl!!

Occasionally she might peak over at me and share a non-authoritative and especially non-threatening smile. Just happy to have me there I guess. And me too.

“I love you very much, you know,” she did say at one point. More than an hour after I’d joined her. “Thanks for being here with me.”

We didn’t do that a lot. Say those types of things. Oddly, I hadn’t noticed that much until she’d said it right then.

“I love you too, Mom,” I managed to return the favor somewhat comfortably.

Good enough.

The following morning I came down for breakfast.

Cuz that’s all I do is eat Mom’s food. Well, sometimes I have conversations about shoving my cock down her throat but other than that, right?

Anyway, she was in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, television on again. More starkly horrendous numbers scaling higher and higher. I might be glad I’m not back at college by that point, to tell the truth.

I sat down to a bowl of cereal, cold milk at the ready.

“Ugh,” she uttered, and flipped the TV off in the other room. Plopped herself down across from me.

She wasn’t wearing an apron. Just an oversized mostly white long t-shirt that hung down just above her knees. And a pair of pert nipples that were woken up ... by accident, somehow?

“It’s horrible, what’s going on,” she addressed me about the bad news getting badder every morning.

“Don’t turn it on anymore,” I cast it aside. I know, typical solution from the youth of today. I offer my apologies for that in hindsight.

Oddly she’d brought her phone to the table and set it down. It’s not odd for her to have that nearby but she doesn’t usually bring it to the table. In fact, she has a rule about that. I’m not allowed to have one there myself.

“Right,” she agreed with my earlier assessment. “So. Entertain me then.”

Her hands both went below her chin to support herself up from the table and she looked at me to pull a rabbit out of a hat or something.

I was already falling into a trap. I’d pretty quickly determined she wasn’t wearing a bra. That wouldn’t be the first and only time. She’s skipped it before, occasionally. But, I mean the circumstances were rather remarkable for that to not be intentional this time, right? The only question I couldn’t satisfy myself on was whether she might just want to tease me at my expense - or, did she really want to turn me on?

Either way. It was working. They dangled some just slightly away from the table. Toddling about just a little. Edging the edge of things. Widdling away at the wood through the cotton of her shirt and the fabric of the tablecloth. Her taught nipples were anchored in tight at two decidedly certain points of order, fishing all the rest around like a concerto of Olympian synchronized swimmers - or dancing like the devil with a pitchfork firmly held in one hand: are you a motherfucker?

I couldn’t hide it in my cereal bowl. Time and time again I checked her headlights (or horns).

“Well hello there, is something of interest to you?”

And without asking for any reassurance or defense against my peeking at her pointy nipples, she summarily lift the edge of the table apron up and checked underneath for the status of the sweats I was wearing across from her.

Aye, erection in progress - ya got me, Mom.

“Already?!” she mocked surprise. Well, she didn’t mock surprise she actually tried to pretend that was shockingly sincere but I wasn’t having it. I’m not dumb either.

All I had to do was indicate my hand in the direction of her competing breasts and counter, “Really? Who’s entertaining who?”

That ticked her off just a little bit. Mostly because she knows when she’s already lost an argument and Lawyers just don’t like that, eh. Ultimately she rolled her eyes. Since I was so proud of myself, I didn’t mind allowing my focus to dial up her titties some more. I mean, if she’s gonna point things out that way. Sure, I’ll watch to see what you’re painting on that billboard.

Rather than argue with me her hand dropped defeated to the table before she began that thing women do sometimes. You know, the domino roll, from one finger into the other. Makes that ticking clock sound they’ve cornered, where they’re spelling out how annoyed and past patience they are with their manicured nails. I didn’t care. My dick was pretty hard by then and it felt good instead of bad this time. I wasn’t exactly hearing stern admonishment and more importantly she hadn’t moved to obscure her now titanically tipped titties in the least.

Yeah I’m hard. What are you gonna do about it this time?

She shook her head. She could read my mind.

They warbled back and forth just a little bit in front of me.

Fuck yeah, Covid Rules!!

Finally she just threw up her hands and announced it. “Well, I’ve got issues too, you know!!” Not that she appeared particularly mad as much as frustrated about her own to that point quiet concerns. “You think I don’t like ... get myself off when you’re not around?!”

Wow. Very direct. How the tables have turned.

“Go on...” I offered. I could nearly hear my dick applauding beneath me.

“OMG,” she spelled out the letters like that, “are you really getting excited about my own frustrations?”

“No. I...” could maybe afford to do some bob and weaving. But she took another peek underneath, once again throwing the table blanket up but this time even more thoroughly - and left it there. Dropped the milk bottle on the edge to keep it folded open.

“Uh huh, and THAT says nothing but Yes!” She folded her arms now and went on shouting. DOINK! Her tips nearly threatened to poke right through the cotton. “I’m obviously a little upset over here and then you go and sport another raging boner!!”

I didn’t try to hide it this time.

“As if THAT’s gonna help calm me down at all.”

You want I should shove it down your throat then, harlot?

Nah, better not go with that. However, I could nod in that direction.

“Well maybe we could...”

“Stop right there,” she interrupted me. “Not another word.”

Okay, I think she might have misunderstood me there. I wasn’t gonna REALLY ask for it. I was just gonna say, you know, sometimes help is just a phone call away... “Mom. No telling how long we’re gonna be cooped up like this. Are you now saying the phone was just a one time thing?”

The thing about having a hardon, when you’re NOT trying to hide it - ya kind of get a little cocky. There was plenty reason to assume that kind of thing would never happen again but I had not run into an argument after it occurred and what was I getting this morning but greater indication that it wasn’t only me who enjoyed it a lot. She liked it plenty also.

“Oh. The Phone?”

Her tone had completely avalanche into the ocean. All of a sudden she was a sailboat in the Bahamas. Wind in her sails.

“Yeah. What else would I...” chuckled a little.

She followed right up.

“You in your room? Me in mine?”

“Of course,” I agreed rather simply. Still shoveling cereal into my mouth.

“And I can be a dirty whore?”

Maybe she then leaped that far on purpose. Knew that might knock the boat right over and cause a spit take, as it did (with milk). Went all over her a little bit though. So, if that was meant to catch me unprepared it backfired. Your sails look a little bit waterlogged now, mam.

Oddly, she didn’t get much mad about that either. Simply dropped her hands to her hips and looked at me askance, “Oh is that all I am too you? Just spit it up all over me?”

I laughed. She has her moments. Good comedy.

“Well, you said...” really pressing the envelope there. I was choking it up still, wiping at my mouth. I mean, how could this be hilarious to me but it was somehow. We’d transitioned into this within a day. Ridiculous.

She went right on facing me like that with her hands curbed at her waist. Never went to clean herself off at all. Waiting for me to. What? Press the button?

“Well?” she finally asked, impatiently. “The phone thing?”

My bowl milk had stained her cotton now for long enough that I could see through it a little bit. Definitely not a bra there of any kind but I already knew that. I could almost make out some mildly dark areola as well now. Phone thing? Absolutely? Best we get on up outta this kitchen like asap!

“Of course,” I confirmed. Rudely confident.

“Promise me once more. No judging,” was all she asked for. Her voice now eager for agreement.

“What stays in the bedroom, stays...” I began.

“In the bedroom. Absolutely,” she completed. Readily. A cereal kernel fell off her tit. It couldn’t believe we were doing this again either. “I’m your mother. I can’t be seen certain ways. You understand?”

Um, yeah - that’s definitely reasonable (despite her current appearance). Good thing I didn’t really consider the consequences and had a hard dick to lead the way ahead for us instead.

“I understand.”

I made sure to give her that with a solid foundation. Gave it some cement.

Concrete. Like my Cock.

“We’re doing this for you. Not me. Got that?”

“Uh huh,” I agreed. No longer eating. Wiping my mouth clean.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

She said it like a schoolgirl. Grabbed her phone and ran her bubble butt upstairs enthusiastically, looked just like a schoolgirl too.

Or “tew.”

She was already out of breath the moment the phone connected.

“What are you doing?”

It sounded like she’d run a marathon or something, rather than simply several steps up the stairs.

“Huh? I’m just ... getting situated.”

I mean, I’d hardly even hit the bed yet when the phone rang.

“Tell me what you’re doing. Explicitly. So I can be better at this.”

Goddamn she was all kinda urgent.

“Okay...” But I wasn’t given hardly half a second to think beyond one word.

“I’ve got my legs spread wide. Is that okay?”

Holy Smokes!!

“I mean ... yeah!” I had to hurry a hell of a lot more getting my sweats off and she definitely had me motivated to do so. WOW!

“I’ve almost tore my panties off already but ... I thought I better call you first.”

Jesus christ, my balls were churning. I sort of thought I had a handle on things downstairs but she not only raised the bar she literally grabbed it and threw it right out of the arena. “Okay ... um, wow!”

“You like that?”

Good god she sounded slutty. Easily as interested as I’d ever heard Sophia. Except - Sophia IS a slut. And I hadn’t known that about my mom at all. As a matter of fact she can’t be one cuz I lived with her for 18 years and I’d KNOW that, you would think. I mean, my dad was in the picture in those early years. Had I ever heard them making sex noise? I had to think about that.

But not too much. More better I just answer to her first.

“Yeah, I...”

But she gave me no time to really confirm anything before adding lots more herself. Fast and furious.

“You like the way my pussy looks for you?”

Wow, man. I could not keep up with her verbally but my cock was already squeezing up the warning signs. And I hadn’t even quite begun beating off yet.

“I dunno. I mean. I guess I would but...”

“Yes you do, you already know. I’m your girlfriend.”

Oh that’s right, she’s still claiming to not be herself. I hadn’t put that back together just yet. Whatever.

“It’s not like your mom would pull her panties aside and show you her wet little slit just like that. Behave yourself.”

Again it hardly mattered whether I respond or not. She was on a train. Downtown Express. But I had to try and be a part of it, given the benefits for both of us. No time to consider who or what she might prefer to be.

“No, of course not,” I felt agreement might be best for whatever her preference was.

“It’s not like she’d start thumbing her homegrown clit around without you having even said the word COCK yet.”

I could actually HEAR the word “cock” cross through the hall and punch apart my bedroom door. No idea why I locked it. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

“Right. I mean, of course. You’re my girlfriend,” I went on agreeing. Grabbing my stiffy in the process. She’d just TOLD me to, right?

“Yeah. I’m your girlfriend.”

Right. Permission to fuck my hand then, mam.

“Have you pulled out your cock yet? Please?”

“Yes mam.”

“Don’t call me Mam. I’m your girlfriend.”

She was rather blunt about that. I still hadn’t admit that “Sophia” wasn’t my girlfriend so I sort of panicked and threw something silly out.

“Well. I call her that sometimes.”

“You do?”

She didn’t appear to have any understanding of why I might do that. And neither would I to be honest. But the lie is already out there, so...

“Uh huh.”

“Oh,” she went quiet for a moment. I couldn’t tell either way if she was bothered by it or measuring out what to do with that information. Until she landed on, “Well I guess that’s okay then”. Before regaining her downtown rush tone and adding, “You can call me Mam. Or Slut. Or Cunt.”

Good Lord.

“Whatever it might take to get you to fuck me real hard with that thing.”

Apparently I can’t lose no matter what I say.

“Oh my gawd, Mom.” And that had happened inadvertently. I didn’t mean to call her Mom just after she’d offered to be anything other than that.

But she let it ride.

Fantastic!

“Cuz you know I like it hard. Right?”

Something else was going on over there. I thought I heard some smooshing or squishing sounds. But she just kept right on going at the mouth as well.

“I like a big hard dick. That FUCKS me real hard.”

Much like I’d heard the word COCK belt across the hallway this time FUCK kicked in my door a little harder than that.

“I like a big hard dick that fucks me real hard,” she repeat. Little less emphasis on the word Fuck that time but, “You knew that, right? Wanna fuck me real hard, sweetheart?”

My hand sure wanted to fuck my hard cock real good at that point. I cautioned a look down at myself to consider that other alternative. Could that wanna pound at my own mother’s pussy?

“Say it!!” she demanded.

Fuck yeah, yum. But before I could responded she retract that to a more cautious optimism.

“I wanna hear it.”

“I know you like a big hard...” I could only think to repeat what I’d heard and not venture too far off the bridge but she interrupted me once again.

“SLAP it!!”

“Huh?” For reals. Huh?

“Slap the phone with your big hard dick. I wanna hear it hit me in the face.”

Her voice was now ragged and ornery. She’d gone way over the edge herself and I probably should have thrown her a life vest but ... why would I wanna potentially cover those floatilas she’s already got going up top?!

“Do that for me, please sweetheart? I’m so fucking horny right now. Don’t be disagreeable, okay?” Was I being disagreeable? I hadn’t hardly processed the concept of her wanting to be “hit in the face”. Yesterday it was shoving it all down her throat and now she wants to get slapped with it? I’m a little bit too far behind the cue ball. “I don’t question your masculinity. Just help me out here. I’m real close already.”

Doesn’t question my masculinity. Wait, okay, that might bring some thoughts together for me. I wasn’t just receiving here. This time around I kinda wanted to get my mother off just as much as she did me. And plus, she’d just recognized something that was possibly unresolved in our relationship.

So I reached out and snatched the apple right back out of the hand of Eve.

“She never cums until I tell her to,” I stated simply.

“What?”

“Sophia. She never cums until I tell her to,” I repeat.

She was completely unprepared for that.

“Oh my gawd ... fucking bitch.”

Not really. One of the more appreciable things about Sophia was she had no problem educating me in that regard. Where and when you might wanna back off and ensure who’s in charge. How much that actually works to “her” benefit. And you just need to be willing to take that risk if you really wanna own the pussy more effectively. ‘You’re the one with the dick,’ she would say, ‘Boss me around’.

“And this is for me, not you - remember?” I added. Now biting that apple myself.

Maybe it’s not true for all women but ever since Sophia taught me that and I’d put it into practice it had not failed me yet.

“I’m so sorry. Yes, I remember.”

And it worked again.

Just a moment ago she had gone overboard and was ordering me around. Not that I didn’t enjoy that jovial and reckless abandon blasting off of her but ... well like I mentioned it kinda hit a nerve and given some things she was saying I felt it best I maybe go for broke. Winner, Chicken Dinner. She now felt more belonging and I could almost feel her pliability in my hands.

And to her credit she did not back off the ledge completely.

“Could you do that for me the way I asked though? Or something similar? I just want to ... I just need to know what it sounds like.” Her words were wetter now. Less fire and brimstone. More welcoming and wanton. “Remind me what it sounds like.”

Remind her. Right. She’s my girlfriend.

“What was it you wanted?” I’d honestly kinda forgotten given all the bombastic words that had rushed through the phone in something short of 5 minutes.

“Slap that dirty dick in my face. I mean, tap it on the phone. Or pat it in the palm of your hand.” Not just words. I could feel the heat press out of her mouth. And other things. I think she began licking the phone. I definitely heard her kiss it a time or two. And that squishy sound from somewhere else below her. I know what pussy sounds like getting used. “Remind me what you fuck me with.”

Fuwk. That was hot. I wanted to hear it again.

“Tell me again.”

So she would.

“Remind me what you fuck with.”

She was absolutely fapping herself now. From the sounds of it, two fingers worth. “Oh yes ... get me good down there,” I heard her whimper. I don’t think she’d meant that for the phone but both her busy fingers instead.

“Again,” I implored her. This time over speaker phone. I was doing as she asked me to. Slapping my now proud cock in my hand. I wanted to match the sound it might make if I was peppering her messy mama vagina with it. And my palm was plenty wet from my own secretions so those hits were rather accurate. Nevermind your face, you want this in your pussy, don’t you?

“Remind me what you FUCK me with...”

She went on. Shattering the halls again.

“Keep going,” I encouraged her. Adding recurring slapping sounds to the echoes of my palm to ensure, or assure, or establish whatever memory she might be wanting me for. You wanna know what that feels like?

And she did indeed go on and on repeating that line. Among other whispered whimpers. It was a cacophony between the words the halls were grabbing, shuddering through my doorway, my dick almost splashing on and off my hand now, the expanse of that soft spot just beneath the gland growing ever more like a parachute set to blow open, her kissing and licking and the sucking going on of her fingers down between her legs, visions of her head going up and down on me like the night before, having her mouth fucked.

From the sound of things I could fuck every hole on her and she’d never call that finished enough.

Not unlike Sophia.

“ ... and then you poke a finger into my wet liwl asshole. and shove your healthy cawk back in my mowph ... oh gawd ... and you keep on reminding me of how you FUCK ME with it!! You keep on reminding me.” She was whispering me all sorts of unconscious things, no telling what was real for her or not.

I’d forgotten by then that I’d told her to wait for my okay to go ahead and cum and wondered why she hadn’t yet already spasmed herself into submission.

“Please, I can’t last much longer. Are you gonna cum for me soon please? I need it real bad.” Which came out of her mouth quite pronounced and reasonable.

“I can if you can,” I told her simply.

I was just as reasonable in my assurance as she had been.

“Can I?!”

Her breath would bark.

“Can you?”

I somehow maintained the very slightest bit of control above her own.

“YES! Just give me permission.”

I could hear her falling off a building with her arms reaching back up above her in suspended animation, while her body would continue to descend beneath a suffocating time-warp, ‘catch me before I die here, please’.

So I threw the rope down.

“Cum, Momma.”

Match Me.

“Ohhhhhh CUM!!!” All the prior reverberations that came out of her were ghosted by that final echo. I threw my own rich orgasm out to meet the sounds. The house could hear us. The house could hold us. We’d been embraced there ever since the divorce. So many years shared but who could know it would ever cum to this? Impossibly brilliant as much as it was hastily created.

And somehow through all of that I could continually hear her thrashing around on the bed. In her own room apart from mine. How long had she lived in there silently without that sort of recognition?

How much had I learned about what I don’t know?

How much more would I?

This time around she hadn’t come out of her bedroom for several hours, while I went about being constructive downstairs. I left her alone. Did some studying. Putting together some formulas. No telling if and when we might ever go back to school or not.

I was worried about her some.

Maybe I should have thrown that life vest at her after all? Instead of let her climb an imaginary building 50 stories high only to throw her a rope? Kind of schmucky of me maybe.

I’m not supposed to know that though. I’m only nineteen after all.

I swing my dick around. Der.

At some point early evening she managed to come down from out of hiding. Went straight for the refrigerator and popped the cork on a bottle of red wine.

Okay. Fair enough.

Once again she sat down across from me. This time all mummied up in a thick pink robe with decades old slippers on that I may have recognized. This outfit went WAY back to my early years. Ought to not only have been mothballed but tossed out completely.

Alright, we’re maybe not okay here. Tread lightly.

“Please don’t mention what happened up there. Ever again.”

She notified me right away.

“What happens in the bedroom...” I thought I had the right answer but she appeared to wanna push it all off the table. Sipping at her wine a bit too generously.

“No, I mean, like ... ever again. Between us let alone anyone else.” Obviously I wouldn’t ever consider sharing it with anyone else, duh. “This was a very bad idea.”

Uh ohz, that bad eh? I’m not sure I’d be able to deal with that. I kinda, well I definitely needed it now. Surely I could recognize how much this last “phone conversation” had advanced from the one prior but it did remain all on the phone so, why combat against this one and not the other?

Regardless, I know when not to smother.

I left it alone.

For a few long moments.

The news was on in the other room. I’d turned it on temporarily and kinda forgot it offhand.

“What are they saying?” she asked me.

“It’s not going well,” I answered. But she got up from the table anyway - her wine glass with her - and approached the box of darkness herself. They were counting up some real fugly numbers. None of them were going the right way at all.

“Oh my gawd, we’re gonna be like this forever,”she surmised.

Uh huh. But despite that, and her completely unsexy attire, I was massaging my groin now anyhow. Forever might not be so bad. Can we do some more stuff I might be able to catalogue in my mind forever if not act upon?

She turned back casually and spotted me, honestly alarmed this time.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m horny,”I simply told her.

Sorry but despite me being somewhat productive down there I had plenty other thoughts repeating over and over in my mind. It had been HOURS since I’d put the phone aside. But not much of anything I found her willing to say in those moments earlier had been put away. At all.

“But...” she continued to be astounded. While I continued right on doing what I was doing. You heard how that worked before, eh? She likes it plenty. “Why in the world would that make you horny?”