Chapter 5

I almost went straight upstairs, thinking Mom might still be having a nap with Dad, but there she was, sitting in the corner of the living room, fully clothed in a conservative white dress with a pleated skirt that fell below her knees, her legs covered by matching stockings. Immediately, I feared she had regressed, that I had made a mistake rushing down to read more letters instead of making sure she didn’t react adversely when it sunk in that she had actually let me fuck her.

“Hello David,” she greeted me, smiling, I imagine, at my surprised and disappointed look. “You seem a little unhappy. Don’t you like my dress?”

“Well, uh, Mom, I thought we were going to be a little less, uh, formal. You know, I thought you were going to dress more casually from now on.”

“This dress is casual, not fancy, but very comfortable,” she protested.

“Mom, you know what I mean. We talked about it,” I shot back.

“Is it the stockings? You don’t like them?” She bent her knees and pulled her feet up to rest them on the coffee table in front of her, then swiveled her legs, held tightly together, from side to side, displaying her lower legs and the white stockings that covered them. “I like them. I think they make my legs look nice and yet they’re very utilitarian,” she said, opening her knees and examining the inside of her calves.

Opening her legs provided a view up her dress. I could now see the stockings were knee-highs that accented her bare thighs, drawing my attention to what I knew lay further up in the darkness of her skirt. My cock stirred.

“Or is it the dress?” she suggested, standing up and twirling slowly beside me, coming to rest facing me, a quizzical smile on her face. When I didn’t respond she continued, “You didn’t really think I was going to lounge around like we were in some olden time bawdy house, did you?” Her querying expression and smile broadened.

She stepped up close to me. “David,” she used my formal name again, “what happened upstairs was a special thing for your father. You can’t believe it will go on after he gets better, or for that matter, if he doesn’t. You don’t, do you?”

“No, I guess not,” I responded, my face downcast, my voice sullen.

“You know I’m doing that for your father, and I know you’re doing it for him too.” She grasped my hands and pulled them around to her back so that I was holding her loosely in my arms, my hands resting lightly on her hips. She slid her own hands up my sides, under my arms. “We can kiss for a while before we go up, to get you in the mood, if you like.” She raised her face up as she stretched up on her toes, pressed her body against me and kissed me lightly on the lips, nibbling them before kissing me again and teaseing my mouth with her tongue. Soon, we were in a serious snog, our tongues trading places in each other’s mouth. I pulled my mouth from hers, panting for breath. My hands had slipped up her back, holding her against me.

Mom smiled, a sweet smile. “Getting in the mood?” she asked. I nodded earnestly. She may have been dressed in an outfit suitable for church but she still was definitely all woman. She seemed pleased at my mute response.

“I thought you might want to get Dad to bed early so I rushed home after shopping for this outfit.” She looked down at her dress. I nodded appreciatively, not wanting to show any disappointment in her choice.

Mom’s smile grew. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like the dress, but I thought you might like what was under it.”

“Yeah, Mom,” I agreed, “the white stockings are kind of sexy.”

“Oh, you like them now, do you?” I nodded. “But that’s not what I meant silly,” she pulled closer to me and kissed me again. Her arms circled my neck and she stretched up to whisper in my ear, “Why don’t you look? I think you might get in an even better mood if you see what’s under my dress.” She kissed my ear, swirling her tongue quickly around its edge before nibbling on the lobe. “Go on,” she whispered, “unzip me.”

I unhooked her dress and pulled the zipper down. I didn’t rush. I was learning to take my time. As I neared the small of her back, I realized that she was wearing a slip underneath, but it had to be short because I hadn’t noticed it while looking up her skirt. I ran my hands up and down her back, slipping under her dress at the bottom to let my fingers stretch out over the swell of her buttocks, then rubbing the sides of her breasts on the upswing. She allowed me a few moments to caress her this way.

“Take it off, David,” she whispered in my ear, “take my dress off.”

I slipped the dress off her shoulders, taking extra time to pull it away from her breasts, letting my eyes linger there. My hands slid over her sides and tummy as I pushed the dress down and over her hips. With a final shove, I let it fall to the floor. Stepping back, I admired my reward, the real reason she’d gone shopping.

She looked stunning, her face flushed and her hair a little messy from our necking session, clad in her white knee highs and a short, strapless slip held up only by her breasts, the material clinging to her body over her hips and ending just four inches below her groin. Her thighs looked incredibly sexy, their bareness emphasized by the knee highs below and the slip above. My eyes were drawn to their juncture. Was she wearing panties? I pulled my eyes up, along the open gap between her breasts laid bare by the low, low neckline, then from side to side as I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, as evidenced by the stubby nipples poking up under the silky white material.

“Does this help your mood, Davy?” she asked, huskily, her eyes twinkling as she arched her breasts toward me.

I pulled her to me, kissing her and then lowering my face to her bosom. She pried my head off the swell of her breasts after just a brief moment of joy. “No, Davy. Only in front of your father. Are you ready to go upstairs already?”

I nodded my head vigorously.

“Alright then,” she took my hand and led me upstairs. At the door to her room, she stopped and turned to kiss me again, allowing my hands to roam over her body. “Are you ready to do what we have to do?” I nodded enthusiastically. “Can you act like you really want to?” I nodded vigorously again.

“Well, get undressed then.”

Mom watched as I turfed my clothes in record time. As I pulled my underwear down, she stopped me. “Whoa, tiger, not too far. She flashed me a big smile but before I could pull my shorts back up she reached in and grasped my hardness in a light grip, sliding her soft hand up over the head and squeezing it before letting it go. “You going to pretend to fuck me with that?” She turned, opened the door and walked toward her bed where Dad lay propped up on the pillows. I followed, dressed only in my undershorts, my cock poking up above the waistband. Pretend? She was going to act like we were pretending?

Mom walked directly to Dad. “Time for lights out, Ron.” She stooped slightly to give Dad a light peck on the cheek while she fussed with his covers. “Oh honey, your lips are so dry.” She pulled the drawer of the night table out and rummaged around in it. “Oh dear, we don’t have any chap sticks. Oh well, this will work.” She pulled out a little jar of vaseline. Leaning over Dad, she put some on her finger and dabbed it on his lips. Then she started to get up on the bed beside him but stopped to look at me over her shoulder.

“You’d best get up behind me, dear.”

Mom clambered up and over Dad’s legs, kneeling beside him to apply more vaseline to his lips. I crawled up behind her, and placed my hands tentatively on her hips, somewhat uncertainly given the authoritative role she had assumed ever since I came out of the study. She turned to look at me when she felt my touch, glancing down at my shorts.

“It won’t look real if you’re wearing those,” she admonished me. She turned back to Dad as I awkwardly yanked my shorts down and off. As soon as I regained my position, she turned back to look at me again. After a very brief smile, she looked down at the hard cock jutting up toward her. “That’s better,” she said.

She twisted half around to face me. I thought she wanted to be kissed so I readied myself to take her in my arms but she surprised me by reaching down to grasp my cock in her hand. What a feeling! Her fingers were like sinewy tendrils snaking around my prick. Her slippery hand stroked up and down several times before she turned back to face Dad, stroking his lips with the same vaseline covered fingers that had just lathered my rod. This fascinating, unpredictable woman was much more exciting than the one I’d had this afternoon. Looking down at my hardened tool, I could see the sheen of vaseline all over it.

She turned to be once more, grasping my tool, stroking it again. I watched her work. This time I could see her working a large gob of petroleum jelly all over my shaft and up to twist and swirl her little palm around the head. Try not to come, I thought. I prayed I wouldn’t come too soon. Did she want to masturbate me in front of Dad? Had she refused to do that for him, with vaseline? Then why was she hiding me behind her?

Mom was gazing into my eyes when I looked up. When my eyes met hers, she spoke, “There’s something that he never got to do.” She paused. “I never let him ... and neither did she!”

I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t mentioned her name but I knew she meant Grandma. Mom turned back to Dad and laid her head on his shoulder. Reaching back, she lifted her slip up to expose her cheeks. Her ass was bare, she wasn’t wearing panties. For a few seconds, I admired this precious vision but then gave way to my rising excitement. Leaning in behind her, I pressed forward, nudging my cock against her ass, squeezing its head between her cheeks.

Mom turned her head quickly toward me. Was I mistaken? Had I gone too far?

“Put more vaseline on,” she instructed me. I did as I was told, applying it liberally and tossing the jar within reach beside me in case I needed it again. This time, I used my hand to guide my cock between her cheeks, now a little slippery from the vaseline I’d rubbed on them with my human spatula. I pressed in until I could feel myself nudge against her forbidden hole. “Feel my tits,” she whispered, her voice very hoarse. Only then did I realize she was still looking back at me. She turned her head back toward Dad as I reached around and grasped her breasts, filling my palms with hard nipples and soft tit, the backs of my hands pressing against my father’s ribcage.

I pulled on Mom’s nipples each time I pushed my cock against her dark hole. Gently, gently I tugged and pushed. I bided my time, enjoying working her tits, loving the feel of my cock’s head squeezing between her cheeks as its tip began to poke inside her. After a seeming eternity, the head popped through the tight little ring, its very first journey into the darkside. Old one-eye stared into the depths of her unexplored cavern.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Mom let out a long sigh, no, a moan. Up to now she’d been silent except for the odd quiet whimper. I continued my gentle shoving.

“Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh,” she became more vocal with each thrust. I maintained my slow pace but I increased the length of my strokes, pushing more and more of my meat into her. And that’s exactly how it felt, like I was shoving this big piece of meat into this incredibly exciting, tight, clutching cunt. But it was her ass, and the very thought almost made me come.

I released Mom’s tits and straightened up, pulling my cock out of her. Smothering my steel cock with more gobs of vaseline, I quickly returned to her once forbidden entrance which was now gaping open, not the tight virgin rosebud I’d first encountered. Slipping in easily, stroking slowly at first, I increased my pace as Mom’s gasps ratcheted up my excitement, and hers. Within minutes I was moving as if it was a regular fuck.

“Unnnnggghhh, unnnnggghhhh, unnnnnngggghhhh.”

“Ohhhhhh, uh, uh, uh, Ohhhhhhh.”

I wasn’t sure if was me moaning and mom grunting, the other way around, or both. We were both panting and gasping loudly, that I knew. I was really pumping into her now, holding her by her hips as I dug my cock into her ass, rocking her against Dad’s chest. I couldn’t last much longer though I wished it would never end. What a fantastic feeling, the tightness, the taboo, the abandonment, the power.

We were both grunting now, my pace urgent. I tensed my cheeks each time I reached my depth in her, trying to get deeper, trying to swell my cock to fill her. Finally, I burst. I had no control. My hips were lunging erratically against her ass, digging into her, my feet urging me forward, increasing the power of my thrusts.

I fell off her, rolling over onto my back on the bed. Moments later, Mom pulled away from Dad. “My god, my god,” she said, stumbling off to the bathroom. I looked over at Dad as she turned on the bathroom light.

Shock. He was looking right at me again. His lips were moving but no sound came out. What was it? ‘You bastard’, was that it? Yes. He knew. He was aware!

I got up and while Mom was still in the bathroom, frantically grabbed a sleeping pill from the drawer in the bedside table and shoved it down his mouth, forcing him to swallow. You had your mom, you bastard, I thought. Now I’m going to have mine and you’re not going to ruin it for me. When Mom came out of the bathroom, Dad’s eyes were closed. I lay naked on the bed.

“Any reaction?” she asked.

“Nope,” I answered nonchalantly.

“Oh,” she seemed disappointed. “I’m going to sleep then,” she said, “I’m tired.”

She crawled up on the bed and collapsed face down between father and me. Looking down at her slightly parted legs, covered in white stockings to above her knees, I grew hard again. I got onto my knees, nudged her legs further apart and got between them, reaching down to lift her hips up.

“God. Already?” she cried, incredulously.

I was panting already as I lined my cock up with her pussy, no foreplay. “I can’t help it,” I panted, “I’ve got to ... pretend to fuck you. Dad should see how ... uh uhhhh ... available you are.”

I pushed my still slippery cock into her. She was so hot her pussy was steaming. She gasped as I shoved myself home.

“Ohhhhhhh, Davy,” she cried, “It feels so real.”

I quickly came up to speed, ramming into her, feeling a sudden need to really fuck her. Incredibly, we were both moaning in no time. The feel of my cock moving in her cunt was unbelievable. My mother’s cunt. I was fucking it. I was fucking her, again.

When I awoke the next morning, I turned to take Mom in my arms, ready for another fuck, but she was gone. She wasn’t in the bathroom or downstairs. There was a note on the table saying she would be out until after lunch, and that I was to feed Dad. I grabbed a coffee and headed for the study. The first letter I picked up was from Grant.

Hi everyone. My name is Grant and this is the story of my mother and me. My father died at just 45 years old after a lengthy illness that took its toll on our family so it was almost a relief that he was gone. After the funeral, Mom and I returned home while my sister and her husband returned to their hotel. We were all tired and wanted a break before heading for my father’s celebration of life.

I took off my shoes and laid back against the arm of the couch resting my eyes while Mom went to the kitchen to make some tea, though I suspect she was sneaking a hot rum. I looked up when I felt Mom sit down at the far end of the couch. She was still wearing her black funeral dress. She wasn’t crying, but her head was in her hands.

“Are you ok, Mom,” I asked, softly.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, her head still in her hands. Looking up, she leaned toward me, her twisting torso pressing against my knees. She sobbed. I grasped her shoulders and pulled her through my knees to hug her. I consoled her for several minutes before she shifted her weight to lay more comfortably on top of me, her head laying on my stomach. My hands rubbed her back while I comforted her.

She made a soft, pleased sound each time my fingers tickled her neck so, without thinking anything of it, I undid the top few buttons joining the lacy part of her dress behind her neck. I brushed the lace aside and slipped my hands inside, softly tickling her neck. She purred in response. After several minutes of this, Mom spoke, “Can you do my whole back?”

I stretched my hands down over her back, digging in slightly with my fingers.

“No,” Mom whispered, “inside.”

I paused. “Inside?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she replied, “it feels better.”

I moved my hands to the top of her dress where the lace started and the zipper ended. Slowly, I pushed the zipper down my mother’s back, ready to stop the instant she indicated that was far enough. I had to lean forward as the zipper neared her bottom and I could feel myself pressing into her chest. She never spoke so I continued until the zipper was all the way down, part way up the slope leading to her buttocks. Pulling my hands back as I leaned back, I slipped them inside the lace again but this time spread my fingers over her shoulder blades.

“That’s better. That feels wonderful,” Mom sighed.

I kept tracing my fingers lightly over Mom’s shoulders. This time, she made pleased sounds each time I reached lower on her back, deeper into her dress. After a while, I was moving up and down her entire back, across her shoulder, over her bra strap, down the groove in the middle of her back to the little valley just before the rise to her buttocks, then down to her sides and up over her bra strap to her shoulders again. Her purring sounds seemed to encourage me to reach toward the swell of her cheeks and to dip into the curve of her waist, but I was afraid to go too far.

“Undo me,” she said as my hands brushed over her bra strap for the fiftieth time.

“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard her right.

“Undo me,” she repeated.

I fumbled with her bra strap, twisting and pulling until she crooked her arms behind her and undid the bra herself in a quick motion that I couldn’t quite follow. Immediately, her arms twisted up the other way and she pulled the shoulders of her dress down, baring her upper arms as she dragged the bra straps down too. She wiggled about until she was comfortable. When I didn’t move, she wiggled again. I began moving my hands over her skin once more. She wiggled slightly once last time, as if settling in, and then emitted a long, pleased purr.

My cock grew like a balloon being blown up. It strained uncomfortably against my pants, between the breasts I could feel pressing down on my legs. I moved my hands over my mother’s back in the same motions but it wasn’t quite the same. Her bra was undone, and I was acutely aware of it. And that changed everything.

Did I say the same? Well, that wasn’t quite true. Although I was covering the same ground, my fingers weren’t lightly brushing over her skin anymore. Instead, I was touching her, if that makes any sense. I was touching my mother, and though I couldn’t put my finger on it, the feel was different. My fingers rubbed on her skin, dragging on her flesh, pressing and pulling.

At some point, I expanded my reach along her waist in a sensuous sweep to the sides of her breasts which had previously been covered by her bra. Now, I slowed my probing fingers, pressing in a just a tiny bit harder where the flesh bulged out from the pressure of her weight. When I pushed my hands down her back I dug my thumbs through the furrow along her spine, all the way to the bottom of her zipper, and then probed a little further her under her dress until I could feel the beginning of another furrow.

Mom must have been wearing skimpy panties because I couldn’t feel any material. Just as I was wondering what to do next, if I dared go any further, the phone rang. Mom didn’t move. I froze. The phone rang and rang. When it stopped, I started moving my hands again. Mom sighed very softly. Then the phone rang again.

Mom sighed loudly, “I guess we better get going. Everyone will be waiting for us.” She sat up, swinging her legs out to the floor. “That was lovely, Grant. Thank you,” she looked at me with a look of true appreciation. Her dress was hanging forward, the sleeves drooping down her arms. She twisted slightly away from me. “Can you do me up please?”

The celebration of life was quite a success, but emotionally draining afterward. Mom put my sister off from joining us at home, insisting she needed to rest, and she should come over the next day. We went our separate ways when we got home but both ended up in the kitchen, in our pajamas, making a snack. We took our food to the living room, Mom sitting in the big chair reading a book while I browsed through the channels, eventually settling on an old western movie.

I watched the movie, glancing Mom’s way to admire her during the commercials, experiencing new thoughts about how attractive she was, thoughts I’d never had before. On one commercial, Mom had dropped the book into her lap and allowed her head to rest against the back of the chair. I noticed how fine her features were, how the shadows and light played on her face. I also admired the full rise of her breasts from her chest, not the least bit disguised by the thick, full length terry cloth robe covering them. Letting my eyes follow her figure down to her bare feet, I enjoyed the sight of her right leg, exposed from the knee down where the robe had fallen to the side. I turned back to the movie when it came back on, suddenly glad that Mom hadn’t opened her eyes to catch me staring at her. About an hour into the movie, Mom surprised me with a soft query just as a new set of commercials started.

“Grant honey, would you mind terribly giving my back a rub like you did this afternoon?”

Startled, surprised that I had become engrossed in this old movie I’d seen a hundred times, I simply blurted out, “Huh?”

“Would you mind doing my back again?” she repeated, a bit of a pleading looking on her face.

“Oh, sure. No problem.”

Mom got up out of her chair and came to sit next to me on the couch. “Lie back like you were this afternoon,” she said. I lifted my legs, twisted myself around and placed my left leg behind her, leaving the right awkwardly bent with my foot still on the floor under her legs. Mom moved her hands down to her waist to loosen the belt of her robe. She turned to look at me, smiled sweetly and said, “Don’t peek, OK?”

“I won’t,” I agreed as she turned away, but I didn’t look away.

Mom tugged on the terry cloth belt, pulling the ends out far from her stomach and letting them drop to the sides of her knees. Without looking back at me she spoke quietly again, “Close your eyes, Grant.”

I did. I could tell she had stood as her weight left the couch, and I heard the heavy but soft thump as her terry cloth robe hit the floor. Her weight once again pressed down on the couch. I could feel her settling in against my left leg, her head coming to rest on my stomach. As her chest pressed down on my thighs, I moved my right leg up onto the couch, squeezing her between, letting my foot fall onto the back of her left calf.

“Ok, sweetie. Go ahead please.”

I opened my eyes. Mom’s head lay sideways on my stomach, her arms reaching around to my sides. She was wearing a pale yellow cotton nightie that was laced up the back to her shoulder blades where it ended. It didn’t have any straps. My cock leapt. I could feel it twitch up against my pajamas and press between her breasts, which seemed to be closer to me than they’d been this afternoon. Of course they were, some logical part of my brain was answering myself, she isn’t wearing a bra now. My cock twitched again.

Mom didn’t react except to say, “Aren’t you going to start?”

“Yeah sure,” I replied. I stared to massage her shoulders. Mom sighed after a minute and I began kneading her neck and shoulders with my fingers, using my thumbs to dig into the hollow of her neck on each side. After a while, she instructed me softly, “Do my back.”

I slid my hands down over the cotton nightie to massage her sides along her spine. She went along with this for a moment or two, then instructed me again, “Undo me.”

I hesitated only briefly this time. I moved to undo the lace ties, pulling each tied bow apart one after the other, realizing excitedly only when I reached the last two that undoing them would part the whole nightie since the ties traversed the entire garment. I could feel my cock throbbing as I pulled the final two apart, my eyes searing along her back as the material separated. Her whole unblemished back lay before my eyes, covered only by a narrow band of panties stretched across the crevasse between the swells rising up below her back. I was right. Mom’s panties came barely half way up her cheeks.

I simply stared at her bum, my cock stiffening in response to this beautiful vista. I was dimly aware that Mom was adjusting herself, moving her chest to accommodate my intruder between her breasts. “Rub me,” her words urged me to break free of my frozen state.

I moved my hands to her waist, thumbs toward her spine, fingers reaching around her sides, and pushed toward her hips, pressing in firmly against her soft flesh. Back and forth I rubbed, pulling my hands right back along the sides of her breasts, not shying away from pressing them as well. I worked my hands lower and lower, down the full length of her hips to her thighs. I could feel my cock moving between her breasts as I leaned further and further forward.

Slowly, I let my hands move higher up her sides toward her center onto the sides of her cheeks. Soon my hands were traveling from her shoulders down into the sway of her back and up onto the top of her ass. I was rubbing my Mom’s bare ass, pushing her panties down a bit as I slid my hands up and down her cheeks. Dare I do more? I stroked and rubbed, fearing to go further, not willing to risk what I had. But inevitably, I couldn’t resist trying for more. I moved my stroking fingers, a few millimeters at a time, edging them closer to the crack between her wondrous globes until finally they met. I let the index fingers of each hand dip in and slide up and down her forbidden furrow to the point where the tops of her panties stretched across her cheeks, and even poked underneath a ways. On the upstroke, I pulled outward on her cheeks, dragging them apart.

When Mom moved, I froze. Her head lifted groggily as if just waking from a little doze. I was in for it now! I waited for the sharp rebuke. But ... nothing. Mom pulled herself higher up on the couch and settled her head down on my chest, wiggling about until I felt my cock once again surrounded by her breasts but now firmly ensconced between their heaviest part.

But that wasn’t the best part. Oh no. When she had lifted herself, my cock had poked out through my pajama fly. How did I know this? Because when she dropped herself down, covering me again with her breasts, I could feel warm, bare skin. Yes! My mother’s nightie had a low neckline which must be why she’d told me to close my eyes. My cock was now wedged between my mom’s bare tits.

Oh, and there was still an even better part. My hands had stayed on Mom’s ass as she shifted herself higher. I now noticed that my arms, previously stretched as far as they could to reach her ass, were now bent at the elbow and I could easily reach all the way to the bottom of her cheeks and beyond.

Mom sighed and wiggled, as if urging me to continue my ‘back rub’. My cock digging even deeper between her tits, I ran my fingers up and down Mom’s ass once more but now, since I could easily reach without straining, I slid my hand over her panties to stroke the flesh bulging out below her panties. It wasn’t long before I was again pulling her cheeks apart, but this time not so tentatively. Soon, I simply pulled her right cheek to the side with my left hand and used my more deft right to slide deeper through her crack the entire length from the small of her back to the bottom of her ass, pushing her panties off her cheeks until they stretched across the backs of her thighs. Rather than objecting, Mom sighed and purred as my fingers traced their path, my fingers sufficiently deep between her cheeks to strum across her back door.

Risking everything ... or so I thought, really, at this point what was I risking? ... I pulled my hand back to my mouth and drenched it in saliva, drooling on my fingers. Placing them back in her anal furrow, I rubbed my slippery digits up and down, wetting her cheeks, pausing for effect on her crinkly rosebud. Her sharp intake of breath followed by series of small gasps encouraged me to once again drool on my fingers ... I didn’t put them in my mouth this time ... and return them to spread the slippery mucous about her little hole and further down between the fleshier part of her cheeks.

I could feel her breathing quicken against my chest. Her whole body tensed up and froze as I dipped the tip of my big finger into her little bud. I held it there ... not pushing, not pressing ... just holding it against her nether hole. Slowly, her tension eased. As she relaxed, her little rosette opened to welcome my fingertip. I could barely sense the upward movement of her pelvis as she lifted her ass up toward her invited guest. Two almost imperceptible repeats of this wanton movement did the trick and my finger slipped through the gate but only far enough to cover the fingernail as if awaiting a full invitation before stepping completely through the door.