Chapter 17

I reviewed the video for the whole morning. It started with Mary walking down the hallway with my mother, presumably after finishing their morning coffee together. Mom entered her room while Mary walked on and walked into my old room, now occupied by my father. Almost as soon as Mary disappeared, Paul appeared and quickly slipped down the hall and into Mom’s room.

She was waiting for him, holding her arms out as he now leisurely sauntered toward her, bending into her embrace for a long morning kiss. It seemed familiar, like the scene had been played before. As Paul continued to kiss my mother, she pulled her knee back until her foot was dangling just over her thigh, near her butt, and draped a silk scarf over her lover’s shoulder. Paul slowly wound the scarf around her thigh and her ankle, wrapping it in a figure eight several times before he tied it, securing her foot firmly to her thigh.

They kissed again. A long, slow kiss. Afterward, Mom pulled her other knee back and Paul a similar scarf, laying on the bed, to similarly secure her other foot to her remaining thigh. Again they kissed but this time Paul fondled Mom’s bare pussy, continually rubbing and stroking. She was glistening when their kiss finally ended.

Gently, Paul lifted Mom’s hand and laid it near her tied ankle. Mom held it there while he searched for another scarf on the bed. A minute later her hand was bound too. Another long kiss and contemporary manipulation of Mother’s slit. When the kiss ended, Mom’s free hand was tied to her leg in the same fashion. She was now laying with her knees pulled far back, ankles tied down to the back of her thighs, and wrists ties to her ankles. Her pussy was, bare, shaved, open and wet and her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Paul got up and left.

Fifteen minutes passed before he returned. Amazingly, Mom’s pussy was visibly soaked. Her eyes were still sparkling but the message they conveyed was more need than anticipation. She was breathing quickly.

Paul calmly walked over and sat next to her on the bed. For several minutes he did nothing. Then he rested his hand lightly on her left, upturned buttock and began moving it is a slow circle, then stretching up to stroke the back of her thigh all the way to her knee. Eventually, he crossed, past Mom’s pouting pussy, to caress her other thigh. Before he got up he quickly inserted his fingers into her wet hole, and then he was gone again.

His return was longer in coming this time and Mom was panting, her eyes desperate. He walked quickly to the bed, picked up a feather and held it high for Mom to see, before lowering it toward her waiting, quivering genitals.

Smack! Mom gasped aloud. Paul had dropped the feather and spanked her exposed butt cheek. Smack! Smack! He repeated his open hand slaps. Mom’s gasps were similarly repeated.

Now the feather stroked over her pulsing pussy, tenderly, caressing, loving. Up her thighs, first one and then the other, then over her begging lips, her wet lips.

“Ohhhhhh, you do that so well.”

“Shhhhhhh, now. Just enjoy it. Don’t talk or you’ll ruin it.”

The feather traveled up and down Mom’s thighs and between to caress her breasts, her stiff nipples, and then on to slip across her mouth before playing over the rest of her face before retracing its path down to her throbbing sex.

Paul picked up the long white cylinder I had seen earlier. Suddenly, it began buzzing. He lowered it between her legs, almost to her pussy before flicking it sideways against the inside of her thigh where he let it throb against her leg. Up, he lifted the vibrator so Mom could see it clearly and then down again only to once more teasingly bump against her other leg. Carefully, he set the vibrator down, below Mom’s upturned ass, almost touching her. He got up and walked out.

Paul appeared in the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Mary appeared from Dad’s room and glanced at Mom’s closed door, a slight frown crossing her face. She must have heard the vibrator. She joined her son in the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee, drinking while preparing some medicine destined for my father, chatting to Paul. Paul waited for several minutes after Mary left, quietly finishing his coffee as he read the morning paper.

Mom was beside herself when he came in. She had be trying to get to the vibrator but only succeeded in settling her tailbone on its tip which must have exacerbated her need without proving much fulfillment.

Paul sat down and pulled the vibrator away.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Then the loving touch. Gentle, loving, caressing. He bent over to rain light kisses on the back of her thighs, nibbling, coming close to her craving pussy but never touching it. Again, he trailed the feather up and down her thighs, over her tits, all around her face and then down and over her pussy, again and again.

He held his hand up as if he was about to slap her ass again, swooped down, slowing at the last moment to push his fingers inside, pushing far into her and then shaking and vibrating his hand, almost lifting Mom off the bed. She was moaning now, trying to lift herself from the bed, to impale herself further on his invasive hand, goading him, almost begging to be reamed even more.

Paul kept working his fingers inside her. Twisting and thrusting, way in. Was he preparing her for his large, bulbous cock? Just when he almost had his whole hand inside, he suddenly pulled out. Mom lay gasping, waiting, as if she’d expected it. The vibrator returned but this time brought electric ecstasy directly to Mom’s quivering quim. Deftly, he played my mother like he knew exactly how and when to move the shivering stick to extract the maximum appreciation from her longing body. But before she could come, he pulled it away and shut it off.

He watched as her craving subsided, as her quivering thighs relaxed. Buzzzzz, the vibrator came back to life. Gently, he laid the buzzing love stick directly on Mom’s pussy, lining it up to lay between her nether lips, passing the handle into her hand, waiting until she had it firmly in her fingers. Again, he got up and left.

Downstairs, Paul had lunch with his mother. He ate a sandwich while she had a salad. They both drank another cup of coffee before Mary prepared a tray with lunch and more pills for my Dad. Paul carried the tray upstairs, Mary again glancing at my mother’s door. Paul was saying something about heading off to school but when he exited Dad’s room he went straight into Mom’s room.

Inside, he disrobed. Completely. His odd-shaped cock wobbled between his legs as he walked toward my mother, in the desperate throes of who knows how many orgasms. She watched at him all the way. Or rather, she stared at his weird cock, too weak to hold up its enormous head. As Paul placed his knees on the bed, Mom dropped the vibrator and tried to twist herself toward him. She needed to be fucked.

Paul grasped her feet and turned her up and toward him, immediately pushing the massive head of his deformed cock against her soaked and raw pussy. He pushed. Even after this much preparation, there was resistance, like the first push into a woman’s ass. He persisted, pushing steadily, gaining slowly, until the head disappeared into her cunt. Mom’s mouth was wide open, her head bobbing with the effort to accommodate him.

She looked delirious as he started to fuck her. Not hard, not fast. Just slow and steady, untying the scarves as he rocked into her, increasing his pace. When she was finally free, he lifted her ankles high in the air and slid his hands down the outside of her legs until he was gripping her thighs just above her butt. Mom locked her ankles around his neck.

“Fuck me,” she whispered intensely. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Her words seemed to drive him as he thrust harder with every expletive demand.

It became frenetic until they were frantically moaning and groaning with every thrust. It wasn’t long before they were in a desperate clutch, exchanging fluids, pushing and rubbing hard against each other. When he pulled out he was still dripping even though his cream oozed out of her full pussy. He trailed up her torso, dripping over her tummy and onto her tits.

“I can’t believe how much you cum,” Mom said. “It’s unbelievable.”

She looked up at him as he squeezed the last drops onto her neck.

“Call her in. Show your mommy how much her son can cum.” She laughed out loud.

Paul walked away from her without saying a word, picked up his clothes and dressed in silence. He took his time and when he finished, he walked out.

I felt like I’d seen too much of my mother, that I no longer wanted her. I took a break.

Later in the day, I visited the locker and retrieved several boxes filled mostly with letters but there were also some old VHS tapes. I couldn’t watch them until I found an old VHS player but I did begin searching through the letters. I was thrilled to see letters from Grant, Jack, Mark, Craig, William and Evan. I picked up the one from Grant whom I told you about in Chapters 5 and 11.

Mom was cooking something on the stove. I’m not sure what and I didn’t look as I shuffled past to the coffee pot, mumbling “morning,” not yet quite awake. The past week had been uneventful and I was resigned to waiting at least a few weeks before having another chance at her. I added milk, spilling some on the counter and walked over to sit at the table before getting something to eat. As I sipped my coffee, my eyes wandered to my mother, to her big fluffy slippers, up her bare calves and to her behind, or at least what I could see of it covered as it was by her thick terry cloth housecoat. Still, it moved interestingly as she slowly stirred the pot on the stove. My ears perked when she began talking about Dad.

“Come over and keep me company while I cook this,” she said.

Grumbling, I got up and scuffed my way over, leaning against the fridge and drinking my coffee while she continued to talk. She was talking about the time she finally managed to still Dad’s wandering eye.

“ ... and that was it,” she said. “One day I just happened to wear a pair of slacks that was too tight around my butt. Well, your father was beside himself. All the way home he was on about how he had sat on the bench in the middle of the mall and watched guy after guy staring at my butt when their wives weren’t looking. Even the young shop boys looked he said.”

Mom stopped stirring and laughed, looking up and away as if watching a recording of the scene from long ago. She stared to stir again and continued, “It was a good thing you and your sister weren’t home. He was in such a rush, he bumped into me on the way up the stairs and I dropped all my bags but instead of helping, he started pulling my pants down. By the time I crawled to the top he had them off and he was on me.”

Mom fell silent but she continued to stir.

“That was the first time,” she said in a lowered voice. There was a long pause while she continued to stir silently.

Sensing that she might be getting into a mood, I gently prodded.

“The first time...”

She didn’t respond and I was about to nudge her again when she whispered, “He took me from behind.”

I almost dropped my cup. Recovering, I quickly finished my coffee and walked past Mom to set it on the counter, returning to stand behind her, the blood already rushing to my genitals.

Mom’s spoke again, her voice resuming its normal tone. “It was a regular thing after that, shopping at malls all over town, even other places, just so Dad could follow and watch men look at my butt. I had to wear pants that emphasized my ass, especially anything that would divide my cheeks no matter how uncomfortable. But he didn’t have eyes for other women, so I put up with it.”

Mom kept stirring, adding some spices to the pot now and then.

“And then one day, he didn’t want to go out anymore. He always found a way to pat me on the ass when you kids weren’t looking, or he’d get you to go out and play so he could play with my bottom, especially while I was cooking, like this.”

“Really?” I asked, stepping closer so my pajamas brushed lightly against Mom’s terry cloth robe, placing my hands on her hips.

“Yeah. I’d fetch something that I had to bend over to get and the next thing you’d know, he’d be right behind me.” Mom laughed softly. “Sometimes I teased him terribly.” She pushed her bum back, bumping me lightly on the front of my pajamas. “Like that,” she laughed louder. “It never failed.”

Mom’s voice lowered again. “But then he started getting fixated. He wanted me to walk around in my panties when you kids weren’t home. And then he wanted me to just wear an apron. As soon as you were out of the house on the weekends, I had to put on the apron and pretend I was cooking while he stared at my bare butt and touched it until he got really worked up and I’d run upstairs and he’d try to catch me like that first time.”

Mom stirred for a few more minutes without saying anything. This time I was afraid to disturb her reverie lest I derail her from the path I hoped she was following. I had managed to pull her back a bit to nestle against my pajamas but I didn’t dare push in case I interrupted her train of thought. Please go on, I thought.

With a tiny extra push, almost a rub, Mom began speaking softly.

“Then, one day, he started doing strange things. He’d been hugging me, you know, standing behind me, kissing my neck and stroking my back. Oh he did that so nicely, you know, running his fingers up and down my back.” She paused. “Gosh, it’s hot in here.” She began to fidget.

No, don’t stop, my inner voice was shrill. Please don’t quit.

“I think I’m getting a flash. I’m so hot.” She was wriggling around now. “Baby, help me get my robe off.”

Quickly, I reached around and undid the belt on Mom’s robe and pulled it from her shoulders, pausing to let her get each arm out, one at a time so she could keep stirring the pot. After draping it over a kitchen chair, I turned back to see Mom stirring the stove, dressed only in a thigh-length nightie cut in a deep U shape that bared her back. The material was so thin I could see a long shadow defining the divide between her cheeks. My boner stiffened markedly. Why wouldn’t Dad be fixated on her butt? I stood behind her but made sure my eager member didn’t touch her bottom.

“Thanks sweetie.”

Mom continued to stir but was silent for a long time. I kept myself busy staring at the smooth womanly skin of her back, the swell of her buttocks, and the bulge of her breasts at her side. At some point, I began stroking her back, lightly dragging the fingers of both hands up and down, following the edge of her nightie from her shoulders until they met at the base of her spine. Over and over, as soft as I could manage. When she still didn’t speak, I couldn’t help prompting her.

“So, Dad was doing strange things?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, staring into the pot.

“Like what?” I matched her quiet tone.

“Well, he put his fingers on my butt. He was always patting it, but this time he slipped his fingers between, you know, like, between my cheeks.”

Mom shuddered.

“It felt so weird,” she whispered.

I hazarded a touch on Mom’s bottom, thrilling to the free feel of her loose cheeks.

“No,” she said. My hand froze.

“He was always doing that. It was right in there, you know, in between.”

I moved my hand toward the middle of Mom’s ass, lining its edge up with her crack.

“Yeah, like that,” she said. “Except, since it was your Dad, and I was only wearing an apron, he pushed his fingers right into my bare ass.”

“Oh,” I said, not sure what to say or do.

“And then he did it,” Mom said.

“What?” I whispered.

There was a long pause. I let the edge of my fingers push deeper between her cheeks, pinching her nightie in.

“He spit on me,” Mom whispered.

“He spit on you?” I was incredulous. I couldn’t imagine my father treating my mother badly. I knew he loved her.

“Yes. It shocked me, but before I could react he did it again. But this time, it was more like a dribble. I could feel his spit running down my back. He spit again, a wetter one, and it pushed the rest faster down my into my bum, running into my crack like a little river. He grabbed my cheeks, one in each hand, and pulled them apart with his thumbs, I guess to let his spit get right in there. I could feel it oozing through my crack. Then he spit again, almost gobbing, right at the top of my ass. It ran slower, like hot toffee, flowing like hot lava into my ass.”

Mom stopped. She was panting, gasping for air. I was having difficulty breathing myself. I pulled her nightie up to her waist and held it there, staring at her bare ass. She was oblivious.

“Then he ... oh god ... when it dripped down, he smeared it all around with his thumbs. It was so strange. Nobody had ever touched me there. It felt weird, but good, and that shocked me. And just then, he pushed one of his thumbs inside. I don’t which one, but he poked it right inside my bum.” Mom followed up with a few short gasps, each followed by a quick intake of air.

I leaned down, put my mouth near the top of Mom’s ass and went for broke. I squeezed out a large stream of saliva, opening her cheeks to let it drool down her crack. As it neared her little hole I moved my right hand below, stopping the flow with my fingers, forcing it to pool around her crinkly brown door. I could hear her panting quicken. Was she thinking of Dad that day or reacting to me?

I drooled out another mouthful of saliva, moved my mouth lower and used my tongue to urge the goo along. Was that moan for me? No matter. She was ready. I slid my finger inside and quickly moved it back and forth as I discovered how easily it slipped through her dark little entrance. A second finger followed. I shoved them both in and out several times. She’s getting fucked right here, I thought, desperately trying to pull my pajamas down with one hand. Mom must have realized what I was doing because she suddenly lurched forward off my impaling fingers and stumbled out of the kitchen, catching me completely off guard.

“No, the children. They’ll be home soon.”

What? The children? What the fuck was she talking about.

I stumbled after her, dragging my pajamas off as I went. Mom was halfway up the stairs by the time I passed through the doorway, discarding my pajamas on the floor. I caught her near the top but she struggled up to the landing before I pushed her onto the carpet, kneeing her legs apart and pushing my cock against her butt.

“No! The children.”

“Fuck the kids,” I yelled, my cock nudging against her slick anus. I pushed and the head popped inside.

“Uggggh,” Mom responded.

I pushed, forcing myself in, slowly widening her.

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Mom moaned, and then, “ugghh, unnghhhh, unnggghh,” as I stared pumping into her ass, nudging her along the hallway.

We reached her bedroom doorway by the time we came. She fell flat to the floor and I collapsed on her. A few minutes later, she pulled herself ahead away from me and stumbled over to the her bed, falling face first onto the mattress. I struggled up and followed her, cum dripping from my half hard cock.

I scrambled up onto the bed and straddled her thighs. Spreading her cheeks with my hands I stared at her asshole, my cum oozing out. My cock stiffened so fast I thought it would snap. Guided it down into the pool of white goo, I pushed in, relishing in the loud grunt from my mother’s lips that my effort produced.

“Oh, god. I love it,” she cried as I started our second ass fuck that morning, a long one with lots of moaning and grunting. It exhausted us. I’m surprised we even heard my sister coming in the door with her kids. I ran to my room.

Mom was downstairs in a dress when I arrived, also fully dressed. My sister Wendy was chiding Mom about leaving laundry layout around. My pajamas had been picked up and placed on top of Mom’s housecoat, still draped over the chair. My sister and her kids stayed for lunch, long enough to fulfill her duty visit before she drove home in the next town. I managed to pat Mom’s ass several times without getting caught. Mom seemed shocked and then angry at first but warmed up and seemed to be enjoying the game by the time Wendy was ready to go.

As soon as my sister and her kids were out the door, I pinned Mom up against it, holding her there with my body while my hands reached around to grope her tits. Mom was looking through one of the long vertical window slits in the door as her daughter leaned in the back seat on the far side of the car to strap one kid into their car seats. As she shut the door and walked around to do the other kid, I dropped my hands to my jeans and undid my belt. As my sister leaned in to do her daughter, her behind facing us, I lifted Mom’s dress and pushed myself against her, ready to rub myself against her panties until my sister was gone.

I was surprised when my cock mashed against Mom’s bare ass. She wasn’t wearing panties. Well, I guess she hadn’t had time to put any on. Watching my sister’s well-defined behind as I rubbed Mom’s, my cock hardened to pure steel.

“Look at that,” I whispered. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“You keep your eyes to yourself,” Mom reprimanded me.

“Do you think Don does her like this?”

“Stop it, Grant.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I went on. “He’s too much of a wuss.”

“He is a wuss,” Mom agreed as my cock slipped between her thighs and I slid my hands up inside her dress to take her bare tits into my hands.

Wendy finished strapping my niece in and closed the back door, turned to wave at the house, and got into her car.

“I hope she doesn’t get frustrated and start looking around,” I whispered, sliding back and forth between Mom’s legs as my sister began backing down the drive, smiling and waving at the door where she could probably see Mom.

“No,” Mom said. “We don’t want her to stray.”

My sister had backed onto the street and her car started moving forward.

“We should keep her busy in the family,” I whispered, pushing into Mom’s pussy for the first time in my life. She was surprisingly tight but I managed to get the door rattling before Wendy’s car disappeared. I didn’t let her off the door until I was finished. She seemed to like it. She loved it the rest of the afternoon, too.

We were graced with several visits from my sister after that. Almost every weekend. I had been visiting Mom’s bed every night so it wasn’t too much of an interruption except that it stopped me from having her during the day on the weekends. Still, I looked forward to her visits because I couldn’t get the thought of her behind out of my mind since I first mentioned it to Mom.

I was so keen on looking at my older sister, who I had fought with like cats and dogs for years, that Mom had to ask me to leave so she could talk to her. She suspected that her daughter was trying to tell her something and needed time alone to work herself up to it. That week, Mom confided in me.

I guess Don wasn’t satisfying her too well and she was getting bored and antsy. She was at that age, almost thirty and married six years, where she wanted some excitement and Don wasn’t it. Mom was terrified Wendy was going to have an affair. I guess one of her and Don’s friends was flirting with her when his wife and Don weren’t around. And Mom thought Wendy was weakening. Evidently, this guy had got Wendy into online chatting with him during the day and late at night and had sent pictures of himself to her and pointed her to a website with video clips of sex that was more exciting than the not even weekly missionary position excursions she engaged in with her husband. Mom thought that confiding in her was a desperate attempt to stop herself because she was about to give in.

On Saturday, Wendy arrived for another visit. Mom was petrified that she was about to reveal a tryst with their adventurous friend and that two marriages were now in jeopardy. Just a matter of time. I took the kids out for the afternoon so Mom and Wendy could talk. As it turned out, nothing had yet happened but they were closer than ever. Evidently, Wendy’s trips were more to avoid the inevitable than to seek counseling from her mother. Mom thought Wendy might not visit the following week, and was desperate to do something.

Wendy wanted to leave right after supper but Mom insisted she and the kids stay, promising the kids that I would take them to the local fair the next day. After that, it was impossible for Wendy to get the kids to go home. Mom insisted that Wendy have a relaxing bath after supper. She came downstairs in the velour robe Mom had laid out for her. Mom insisted the kids go to bed early and shooed them upstairs with a promise to come up to read them fairytales from her big book, the one with the scary stories unlike the safe vanilla ones offered up these days. Wendy usually hated for Mom to read these stories to her kids but she didn’t complain tonight.

As soon as the kids went upstairs Mom dragged out her large exercise pad and covered it with white towels. She lit the gas fireplace, turned out the lights, and pulled a surprised Wendy onto the mat, instructing her to lay face down and relax. Mom went into the kitchen and returned with a large metal mixing bowl filled with warm oil. Now I began to get an idea about why she had insisted earlier that change into my robe while Wendy was in the bath.

“You need to relax dear. Now, I’m going to go upstairs and look after the children until they’re asleep and you’re going to lay her and enjoy a massage from your brother. He’s been taking a special course in relaxation therapy and it’s done me wonders since Dad passed.”

This was pure malarkey. I hadn’t taken any course in relaxation therapy and didn’t know the first thing about how to do a massage. Wendy began to protest but Mom insisted she wouldn’t take no for an answer from either of us. She turned to me.

“Now you do the best job you can for your sister. God knows, you owe it to her for all the years you were nasty to her.” Facing Wendy, Mom said, “Just let Grant do his thing. He has a real talent, and you need it.”

Capitulating, Wendy laid her head down in her crooked arms and waited. Mom smiled at me, a knowing smile, capped by a slight twist of her face and a concerned look that kind of said, “She’s in your hands. Save her.”

As Mom padded away and up the stairs, Wendy asked, “So can are you really learning how to do massage and practicing on Mom?”

Picking up from Mom, I answered, “I was the top student and the instructor said I was a natural, the best she’d ever had. You can see how much it helped Mom, I can do the same for you.”

I smiled to myself when I said that. If only.

Wendy sighed and said, “I’m all yours.”

That was an exciting thought but I didn’t dwell on it. I squatted on the floor and moved the large bowl of hot oil down beside my sister’s feet, picked up a foot, dipped my fingers into the oil and rubbed some onto her sole. Though I took my time, it was only a few minutes later that I set Wendy’s foot down and picked up the other.

“Mmmmm, that does feel nice,” my sister murmurred.

“Try not to talk. Just feel,” I replied. I was playing this by ear but it seemed that Wendy was impressed with my fake massaging of her foot. I didn’t want her to talk because that would keep reminding me that I was her brother. I wanted her to drift off, to lose herself in feeling. I had been presented with a wonderful opportunity to touch up my married sister’s body and I wanted to make the most of it. “Shhhhh,” I tried to soften my instructions.

With a single index finger, I repeated the sensuous stroking that worked so successfully on the other foot. I lightly traced the bottom of her sole, over her instep and around her angle, down each side of her Achilles and back up to her arch and then down to her toes, slowly inserting my finger between each toe and dragging it through. I stopped several times to dip my finger in the oil, keeping her foot slick and warm.

I was acutely aware of her other foot laying across my folded knee. I had shifted closer to her to make sure it dangled across and outside of my thigh. I didn’t want her coming into contact with my boner and stopping the show. I set her foot down and picked the first one up again. I tickled my finger across the base of her toes above the balls of her foot and then traced a line along her sole with a detour into her instep, over her heel and then down the back of her calf to the hollow behind her knee where I circled several times.

“Ohhh, that’s wonderful,” she sighed.

“Shhhhhh,” I admonished in a very soft voice.

Dipping several fingers into the bowl, I spread oil liberally over the muscles in her lower leg. I took my time stroking, squeezing, scratching and tickling her leg and foot, and then did the same with her other leg. She was definitely relaxed when I finished.

I took her hand and gently massaged it the same way I had done her foot. Whispering that it was time to do her arms, I gently tugged on her sleeve until she shifted her weight and helped me slide the sleeve of the robe off her arm, leaving one shoulder half uncovered. Again, I took my time working on her arm, from fingertips to shoulder, working my finger between hers, tracing through her palm and over the back of her hand, swirling a curving trace around her forearm, behind her elbow and along the delicate skin of her upper arm. The other arm was a similar treatise and both shoulders were bare when I was done.