Chapter 4

I fell asleep quickly that night but woke up with a start. What was that noise? I sat up in the complete darkness and listened. I couldn’t hear anything. I was about to turn on the lamp when Mom whispered.

“Leave the light off.”

“Mom?”

“Shhhhh.”

“Where are you?”

“Where do you think?” she giggled.

I threw the covers off and stood up. I was naked. Where was my robe? Why was I worrying about my robe?

“Come here,” Mom whispered.

Confused, with mind still full of cobwebs, I walked toward her voice, hands waving in the darkness in front of me. My fingertips found Mom. She was standing in the corner, apparently naked, holding her arms up. No, not holding up; they were held up. Mom had tied her hands together and pulled them up with a rope through the ring in the ceiling and was standing on the rope to keep them up.

“Tie it off,” she said, wiggling her leg.

I picked up the rope and wound it around the cleat on the wall.

“Did you prepare yourself?”

“Prepare myself?”

“You know.”

Oh, the condom. I stumbled getting back to the drawer in my bedside table and swore twice when my eagerness to put it on set me back. I was almost back to Mom when I remembered the vibrator and other accessories hidden under my bed. I went back to retrieve them. Mom heard me rummaging around under the bed.

“Forget that stuff,” Mom hissed. “Come here.”

The intensity and need in her voice brought me quickly back, without stumbling, by the way. I ran my hands along her upstretched arms, then down her sides following her waist but pausing to feel the weight of her breasts, then continued over her hips and along her thighs. I pressed my chest into her back and nestled my cock between the crack of her ass. If only she would let me inside her. One day, maybe, but for now her mouth was just fine. I needed her to kneel or lay down.

“Put it in,” Mom hissed.

“Mom?”

“Put it in,” she repeated.

“Then kneel down.”

“I don’t need to. Put it in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

So that was the first time I fucked Mom. Not after careful preparation until she was too horny to know what she was doing, but rather by her invitation when I was the one totally unprepared.

The squeeze of her pussy enveloping my cock on its first maternal thrust was almost too much to bear and I just about fell on my ass. My legs crumbled and I had to clasp my arms around Mom to keep from falling down.

“Like it, hey?” she teased, wiggling her butt and almost making me come.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Fuck yeah,” Mom mimicked, wiggling her butt again.

“Fuck yeah,” I cried, straightening my legs and lifting her right off her feet.

“Fuck yeah,” Mom groaned.

I lowered Mom to the floor and her hips churned around my cock as I slowly withdrew it from her hole, then pushed back in until she was back up on her tippy-toes.

“Oh yeah, baby. Make me feel good enough to get through to Thursday.”

“Like this,” I suddenly thrust up hard, lifting Mom off her feet again. Holding her aloft, I found her tits and pinched her nipples, then tugged up, holding them off her chest.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” she mewled, spiraling around my shaft, toes still off the floor.

“I’m going to tease you all day Thursday. No mercy.”

“No mercy,” she parroted.

Enough talk. I started fucking Mom in earnest and only released her tits to play with her clit with my left hand, then using my right to stroke her throat and stick my fingers in her mouth. The whole time I fucked her, standing behind her, I always had one hand on her tits. When I came, I tore the condom off and flung it onto the floor. Eyes now acclimatized, I easily found my way back to the drawer to get another. Mom giggled as my already hardening cock probed the entrance to her slick tunnel, ready for a second go.

“Can’t get enough?”

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Promises, promises,” Mom teased.

I cut her off with a hard thrust.

“Unngghhhhhh!”

“That’s better.”

“Shut up.”

“Stop moaning.”

“Make me.”

“Take that.”

“Unnnghhh.”

“And that.”

“Unnnnghhhh.”

No, I didn’t want her to stop moaning. I loved it and I vowed to make her moan all day long on Thursday and every fucking day after that I got to have her for a few hours to myself. After tossing a second load into Mom, or into the condom buried deep within her, I released her and carried her to the bed. I lay down beside her but within a minute she said, “Put on another one.”

“Really?”

“You’re not up to it?”

“Fucking right I am.”

“Watch your language.”

I grabbed another rubber from the drawer and put it on, then turned toward Mom. She was on her back with her legs wide open.

“Get in,” she said.

I did as I was told and started pumping right away but she stopped me.

“Slow down. I want this one to last.”

Mom traced the edges of my face with her fingertips and rubbed the back of my legs with her feet as she repeatedly strained and relaxed against me as she whispered in my ear. Her words were almost nonsensical and I slowly realized they weren’t meant to be understood. Mom was using the feminine lilt of her voice as a sexual stimulant, urging me forward and then pulling me back, similar to the press and release of her flesh. Her lips and tongue, when finally applied, sent my mind and cock racing ahead. Thankfully, she didn’t try as hard to slow me down and soon we were coupling furiously. It was hard to believe that Dad couldn’t hear us but right then, I couldn’t care less if he did. It was a noisy climax for us both.

On Wednesday, Mom treated me the way she always had, as a regular son. No flirts, no looks, no poses, nothing. The only tip of the hat was the June Cleaver outfit she wore. Even Dad noticed, asking her if she and her friends were doing some kind of retro fashion show benefit.

“No,” she replied. “I just like dressing this way. Some people like it.”

She didn’t even smile or look my way.

I cleaned up after dinner and joined Mom and Dad in the living room. Mom was sewing. When I sat down on the other end of the couch and saw what she was sewing, I almost fell over. Mom was sewing buttons onto her blouse, the buttons I had popped off the week before. That was the only time that Mom rewarded me with one of her quirky smiles, but she didn’t look toward me.

I won’t bore you with all the details of what happened between Mom and I the next day or the many days we had over the years after that. Suffice it to say that I became expert at tying Mom up and teasing the shit out of her. Over the years, I obtained a lot more equipment from Mrs. Draper and became more sophisticated in its use.

Toward the end of each long day of teasing I would slip behind Mom. She would usually be on her back or on her knees, calves and thighs tied together, since that was her favorite constraint. Either way, I would crouch over her and pound away until we both came for the final time that day. We had learned to spread a sheet over the rug and to keep the windows open. It made for a rapid cleanup, allowing us to test fate by holding off our climax the last minute.

After hours of lovemaking, we started winding up the parade during “Dennis the Menace” and culminated our lust while listening to “Leave It To Beaver”. We were incapable of having a quickie. Mom sometimes visited my room in the wee hours of the morning but even those occasions rarely consumed less than two hours. The only thing we managed in a short period of time was our regular weekend blowjob. Mom knew I couldn’t last through a weekend so she looked after me. But even that took half an hour. We simply couldn’t be together without squeezing every ounce of enjoyment from one another. I think that’s why we were initially attracted to each other. It wasn’t a mother-son thing, it was a recognition of what each other desired. Somehow, we both knew what the other craved.

On second thought, there is one occasion worth sharing. One afternoon, while Dennis was being a particularly bad brat, Mom started nibbling the condom off my cock. Usually, she let me fuck her mouth with my bare cock before moving on to the grande finale but she had insisted I wear one right from the start that day. So I was surprised when she started chewing it off.

“You want it on your face today?” I huffed.

“Mmm baby. Let me get it off.”

“You want it on your face?” I repeated.

“I want your bare cock,” Mom panted.

“You got it baby. Peel that sucker off.”

Mom nibbled.

“Come on,” I urged. “Chew it off.”

I was getting hot at the thought of her wanting me to spew all over her face instead of it just happening. I had to admit, I loved the look of my spunk on her face, but when more got on there rather than in her mouth, I pretended it was an accident because I thought she didn’t really like it. Yet, now she was begging for it, desperate for me to unload on her pretty face. What a fantastic woman!

Mom finally got the condom off and I tried to plunge it into her mouth to bring myself to the brink so I could unload. Pushing into her throat always got me there, but Mom clamped her lips shut and I skidded over her face. Undeterred, I grabbed my cock and started wanking off, already huffing and puffing at the thought of unloading on her willing face.

“Fill me,” Mom gasped.

“So open your mouth,” I cried, wanking faster.

“No, fill me,” Mom cried, stressing the last word.

“Then open your fucking mouth,” I wailed desperately, already feeling the twinge that signaled an impending eruption.

“Fill me, fill ME” Mom shouted.

I looked into her pleading eyes, saw the desperate need there, queried with my own look and found the answer that shocked me but which I knew to the depth of my being was what Mom wanted. I stood up, stumbled toward the couch, turned, and kneeled in front of Mom’s upturned pussy, I sank deep within her, burying my whole, bare cock.

One, two, three strokes. I was coming, like never before, truly exploding. I threw back my head and wailed. I was coming, for the first time the way God meant me to come, free and full, oh so full, emptying my seed into my mother, not just cum, but my seed.

“What mischief will be born of this day?” I wondered as the last, wrenching gob squeezed past my brutalized tip.

I collapsed between Mom’s wide open, tied thighs, and reached back to release her wrists from the side of her ankles. Immediately, Mom threw her arms around me and clasped me tight. We kissed, pulled back to look at each other, and cried.

On third thought, I guess I should tell you about Mrs. Draper. I’ve already mentioned that we became more sophisticated in our methods and the equipment we used. I didn’t tell you that Mrs. Draper never charged me a cent for any of it. She was, however, curious. At first she hinted, and later outright asked, to meet my sexy girlfriend. Mrs. Draper always asked how she liked the things she provided me and I sensed she had more than a passing interest. I had a growing sense that Mrs. Draper was bi, even if she didn’t know or admit it. That would figure. The ones that were so attractive to men preferred women.

Anyway, the day came when I cockily answered the door even though Mom was wrapped up in rope in the middle of the living room floor, kneeling on a sheet and watching “Dennis the Menace”. I had done this once before to receive a package from UPS. Mom had almost had a fit but afterward she was so excited by the thought we could have been discovered. So this time, Mom protested, but not too vigorously. She was more playing the expected role in our game.

“Mrs. Draper,” I almost shouted, both surprised and wanting Mom to know this was an order of magnitude beyond the UPS guy on the excitement scale.

“How many times have I told you to call me Lisa?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just like calling you Mrs. Draper.”

“Do you have a thing for older women, Heck?” she teased.

I blushed. I was bare-chested and bare-footed, having answered the door wearing only my pants since I was expecting a UPS guy. But that wasn’t why I was blushing. Mrs. Draper had no idea how close to the truth she was. I shook my head.

“Well, if you don’t let me meet Samantha, I’ll find her and tell her about your secret fantasy.”

First of all, Samantha was the name I had divulged under pressure as the name of my supposed girlfriend. Secondly, Samantha was my Mom’s middle name. There was a muffled gasp from the living room. Mrs. Draper tried to look beyond the door but couldn’t see past me.

“I thought it was just your Dad that was out of town. Did your mother go to?”

Caught off guard, I stumbled for an answer. “Well, um, uh, actually she...”

Mrs. Draper caught me completely by surprise when she bolted past me.

“Samantha, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Heck has told me so much ... What the fuck?”

I turned around. Mrs. Draper was standing behind me in the entranceway, looking into the living room, in utter shock. I turned and quickly caught up to her. Mom was craning her neck to the side, mirroring the look on Mrs. Draper’s face but her hips were churning on the vibrator tied up against her yearning pussy. We’d been at it for hours and Mom was incapable of stopping.

“Uh, Lisa, meet Samantha. Samantha, Lisa,” I mumbled, inanely.

Mrs. Draper took a step toward Mom. I put my hand on her arm to restrain her and she paused but then leaned forward and I let her go. She took three more steps and stopped in front of Mom.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Lisa, you can’t say anything, to anyone.”

“No, of course not. This is so fantastic, so much better than I ever imagined. You look so wonderful, so sexy, so fucking hot,” Mrs. Draper spoke directly to Mom.

Mom looked up at Mrs. Draper, despair at being discovered plainly evident on her face, mixed in with the lust to which she would soon succumb.

“Don’t worry, honey. My lips are sealed, unless you want them open, for you.”

A new kind of shock washed over Mom’s face, then gave way to understanding, but not acceptance.

“Wait. I’ll be right back.”

Mrs. Draper ran into the kitchen. I followed her. She was bent over the sink, the tap already on, leaning in, scrubbing her face.

“Get me a towel,” she cried.

I grabbed a dish towel and handed it to her when she pulled her head out of the sink. Mrs. Draper immediately buried her face in it and rubbed it vigorously all over. She scrubbed so hard I worried that she might hurt herself. Did she not believe what her eyes had seen? Was she trying to scrub her eyes out?

Mrs. Draper stood up and flung the towel at me.

“How do I look?”

I had never seen her without makeup.

“Fine,” I answered.

“Fresh-faced?”

“You look very clean. Rosy and fresh,” I added.

“Good.”

Mrs. Draper rushed out of the kitchen and I followed. She was standing in front of Mom.

“Better?” she asked.

Mom looked up, looking as perplexed as I felt.

“Maybe this will make it better,” Mrs. Draper said.

With that, she grabbed the top of her head, fingers sinking into her perfectly coiffed bleached-blonde hair, and tore it off.

My mouth dropped open, and so did Mom’s.

Under the wig, Mrs. Draper’s real dark brown hair was cut in a boyish cut but it looked cute and sexy on her. Without the bleach-blonded wig and overly thick make-up, Lisa looked like one hell of a sexy thirty-something MILF, except she wasn’t a mother.

“Better?”

Mom nodded.

Mrs. Draper lifted her right foot and loosened the strap holding her shoe on, peeled it off, and let it drop on the rug, then did the same with the left. In no hurry, she reached under her skirt and dragged her panties down over her nice legs. She flung them at me without looking to see where they landed. I caught them and watched as Mrs. Draper bent her knees and slowly lowered herself, feet planted on the outside of Mom’s thighs, until her tummy was pressed to Mom’s and she captured the part of the vibrator that was protruding beyond Mom’s own pussy. They both moaned loudly together and I realized that I hadn’t shut the front door. I turned away to close it.

When I returned, Mrs. Draper’s hips were moving with Mom. She had unzipped the back of her dress and was pulling it over her head. When she threw it away, her breasts bounced on her chest before she moved closer to let them caress Mom’s tits. They weren’t bad, not bad at all.

I shucked my pants. Having not bothered to put underwear on to answer the door, my cock sprang out, long and hard. I walked close to them, slowly stroking my cock. Mrs. Draper looked at me, smiled, and opened her mouth.

“It’s about time, Heck.”

I wanted to fill her face but I declined, simply shaking my head. Mrs. Draper understood. She turned back to Mom and kissed her. This was their moment, and mine too, but to share. They were the central actors in this scene; my time would come later and I knew it would be better if I waited. That was, after all, the underlying them of all the sex between Mom and me. I stroked my cock slowly and got off on the expressions on Mom and Mrs. Draper’s faces.

It took longer than I thought but eventually Mrs. Draper turned looked at me again, this time with an enormously satisfied grin on her face. Mom looked at me too with much the same look. They both opened their mouths at the same time. What a choice, I mean, what a fucking choice.

I sank it into Mom’s mouth first. Loyalty, you might ask? Perhaps, but at the time I thought I wanted Mrs. Draper to see how it was properly done. I wanted her to see how Mom took it deep, really deep, on the first thrust.

Mrs. Draper was only the second woman to give me a blowjob. She learned fast and it was hard not to come even with all the training I had received holding off from fucking Mom while she was tied up, spread and available, for hours. Dipping my cock first through one warm and wet set of tonsils only to plunged it deep into another waiting mouth, then back, and switching again, over and over. I mean, who would ever want that to stop? Not me. I was proud of how long I lasted.

Man, to come all over two eager faces. What a fucking rush. Dad was gone for three days. Three glorious days during which Mrs. Draper was at our house almost the whole time. She looked so good I could never understand why she wore all that make-up and that stupid bleached-blond wig. To see her naked, standing naturally, without a push-up bra or a stretchy tank-top artificially lifting her wonderful breasts. She had a really nice set of slopey hangers, I mean, the way the slung down and then jutted out with those longish nipples. Fucking fantastic.

Almost as good as Mom’s.

I was a spoiled boy, a very spoiled boy, for years.

Yes, years. But it all had to come to an end. For a time, we thought Mom was pregnant but she miscarried. One day, she came home with the news. She was sick, very sick. The first night Dad was out of town, she and I and Mrs. Draper watched old movies in the living room in the flickering light of dozens of candles. We didn’t have sex but we cuddled a lot and cried too.