Chapter 7

Mom was true to her word. She really worked me over that night. From the next day on, I assumed the role of my father, living with Mom as if I was her husband. Within weeks, Mom had finalized arrangements for her to assume power of attorney for Dad’s affairs. She now had full financial control of our lives.

Mom never denied me sex at night and often initiated it. One night she mentioned several times that she was going to bed early and kept asking if I was coming. I ignored her, not picking up on her signals, and watched a favorite movie before hitting the sack myself. When I entered the bedroom, expecting her by then to be dead asleep, I found her laying on the bed, the covers stripped and heaped on the floor, her ankles firmly tied to the headboard, her eyes wild and her fingers wet from playing with herself.

Within two seconds my cock sprang to full mast but I resisted my first impulse which was to leap on the bed and impale her with my spear. Instead, I savored the taste of this treat for over half an hour. I sauntered to the end of the bed and, without a word, slowly stripped completely naked in front of her. You should have seen how her eyes clung to my cock as soon as it sprang free. She was sooooo ready.

I crawled up on the bed on my knees and worked my way toward her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the first hard thrust but I simply pressed my elongated tool down to rest on her pussy, along her wet lips, gently sawing it back and forth in a leisurely fashion, prompting a low moan from her throat. When I lifted it away and didn’t immediately shove it in, she opened her eyes.

“I better go brush my teeth, Mom. I’ll be right back.”

She looked shocked as I climbed off the bed. I took my time brushing my teeth and was thrilled to see the desperate look on her face when I re-entered the bedroom. I doubt she’d taken her eyes from the doorway the whole time I was gone.

Resuming my place, I continued to tease her with my cock, pulling it away frequently, sometime replaced with my fingers, sometimes with my mouth, but more often with nothing at all, leaving her cunt clutching at the air. It was fascinating to watch it grasping for satisfaction.

Of course, I worked her tits over as well. But my moment of inspiration arrived after I returned from another teasing excursion to the bathroom, this time to floss my teeth. With me, I brought a face cloth soaked in hot, soapy water and a towel. After sinking my tongue in her pussy for a few minutes, I pulled out and washed her ass inside and out with the face cloth, dried her off and then sunk my tongue in her cunt once more.

After several minutes of this, I pulled out and slipped down to tease her with tongue swirls around her pucker, teasing the crinkly knot with little jabs from the tip of my tongue. I returned frequently to lap and poke her cunt but I spent most of my time teasing her asshole, more and more often dipping my tongue into for a little swirl on the inside of her anal ring. She was moaning constantly now, her eyes closed tight, her face screwed up in an ecstatic expression. When I finally plunged my entire tongue deep in her ass and worked it furiously inside her, she came violently, her whole pelvis shaking wildly her legs rattling the headboard as her feet tried to pull out of her bindings.

While she was still shaking to the throes of her passion, I crouched above her and plunged deep into her pussy, abandoning myself to a wild, pounding fuck until she came again. I only noticed because of the way her cunt erratically squeezed my cock as I unloaded my sperm into her. I came so hard I was sure it would overfill her and gush out, but of course that was just a feeling.

After cleaning myself in the bathroom I returned to find Mom still laying with her ankles tied back to the headboard. Slipping into bed, she asked, “Can I get loose now?”

Surprised by the question, I simply said, “Yes, mother.”

Mom used her hands to slip her ankles out of the straps and disappeared into the bathroom. Within seconds I heard the shower start. How my father missed out on a lifetime of sex with this incredible woman was beyond me. I didn’t know it yet but I was just starting on my own road to discovery. I would learn that a woman doesn’t just show you her mysteries, you have to seek them out on your own before she considers you worthy.

To amuse myself the next day — Mom didn’t often allow sex during the day — I made myself a large drink and settled into the study for some recreational reading, something I’d been too busy to do over the past few weeks. There, I found the letter from Lorne.

How intriguing to discover this group. I hope the story about my mother and I is sufficiently interesting that you vote to allow me in, and to share your stories with me.

My story is a little different from all of yours in that I was adopted, as fact I didn’t discover until I turned eighteen. Evidently my Mom and Dad had taken me in when I was a baby. My real Mom had been a drug addict, and the sister of my Mom, Ann. Now, don’t get me wrong. ‘Mom’ had always treated me as her own, spoiling me rotten. But my Dad and I had never been close, and now I know why. He was a little older than Mom and probably didn’t want her junkie sister’s kid but he did take me in and gave me his name.

I don’t really know how to feel about it. It didn’t really bother me, but for some reason I let on to my mother that it did, probably because whenever she was worried about me, or felt bad because I was in heck with my Dad, she would let me do whatever I wanted when he wasn’t around. I’d always been a bit of a brat and I think that’s how it started. It just got a little carried away, that’s all.

Anyway, one night when I came home late, a little drunk because I’d been drinking at a friend’s house, Mom was waiting to give me heck. Dad had gone to bed hours ago but Mom was waiting up in her bed clothes.

“Where have you been?” she demanded when I sneaked quietly in through the back door. She was standing by the fridge, in the dark.

“Mom! You scared the shit out of me,” I blurted out, my voice slurring a bit.

“Don’t swear, and keep your voice down. Your father’s sleeping.”

“Alright, don’t have a cow,” I slurred again.

“You’ve been drinking again!” she accused me.

“No, I haven’t,” my voice turned defensive.

“Don’t lie to me. I told you about drinking and drugs.”

“Yah, yah.”

“You don’t understand,” she cried, her voice loud despite telling me to keep mine down. “You don’t know how easy it is to get in deeper.” She took a step toward me. “You’ve been drinking since school finished. Why? Have you done any drugs? Have you?”

“You know why I’ve been drinking.”

Now, I have no idea why I said that, it just came out.

“What? What do you mean, I know why?”

“You do. You and Dad. You both know.”

“What are you talking about?”

I looked at her, swaying on my feet, and slurred, “Because I’m adopted.”

Mom stepped back until she backed into the kitchen table, sitting down on its edge.

“I’m not yours,” I twisted the knife, “so what do you really care?” With complete, drunken disregard for the knife I’d stuck into this woman who had coddled me all my life, I shuffled past my stunned mother and went to bed. She let me pass, staring at the floor where I’d been standing, too shocked to move.

When I woke up the next morning, the kitchen confrontation came back to me. Christ! Why had I let on that I knew? My mother would feel bad. And I did too, saying that to her. Maybe she’d be mad. Before I could get up, Mom knocked on the door. I didn’t answer but she came in anyway. I pretended to be asleep. She sat on the bed next to me, stroking my shoulder and patting my head.

“Wake up honey, your Dad’s waiting.”

I was really hung over. The last thing I wanted to do was ride in the car with my father. He’d figure it out and give me shit.

“I don’t feel well,” I groaned.

“Ok,” she said. “I’ll tell Dad you’re sick and then we’ll talk about last night.”

She was back two minutes after I heard Dad drive away. When she entered my room, for some strange reason I continued with the same adopted gambit I’d started the night before.

“You don’t really love me. I’m just adopted.” I turned over and covered my head.

I won’t go through all the sordid details of my whining and my Mom’s consoling assurances that both she and Dad had always loved me as their own. Suffice it to say that we ended up hugging and heading to the kitchen with a promise for my favorite breakfast, the little brat inside me firmly in control.

Now, I’d have to say that if I hadn’t found out that I was adopted the next bit would surely never have happened. As I followed Mom down the hall and downstairs, I noticed her figure, fully covered though it was by her bed robe. I had never looked at her as a woman before but it occurred to me that she wasn’t actually my real Mom, and she was good looking. It dawned on me that I had never been alone in a house with any woman dressed in her bed clothes, except her.

I felt a tingle when she lifted her robe as she started down the steps. Just the glimpse of her ankle and foot was suddenly interesting. I found myself watching her slim figure as I sipped coffee. While she was standing at the stove, I stepped up close behind her and gave her a hug.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said softly, feeling that the crisis was over.

I pulled the hair away from her neck and leaned down to kiss her in the hollow of her neck. She seemed a little flustered, so I repeated the kiss and then planted a couple on her cheek, lingering with the last one.

“That’s nice, sweetheart,” she said, her voice cracking a bit as her face flushed red, “but it’s not the way you usually kiss me.”

Still holding her shoulders, I whispered in her ear as if what I was saying was our secret, “But you’re not really my Mom, so I should kiss you a little differently now.”

Now she really looked upset and confused. She didn’t do anything, she just kept fussing with the food on the stove. I leaned down and kissed her again in the nape of her neck.

“Don’t kiss me like that.”

“Why? You’re a very good looking woman.”

“I’m your Mom, not just some woman.”

I leaned in to kiss her but she cringed away. “If you were my real Mom, you’d let me,” I said.

“What are you talking about? I’ve been your mother all your life.” Her voice was angry now.

“You know. The whole Oedipal thing. I didn’t know you weren’t my real Mom so I’ve had a thing for you since I started noticing girls, like most of my friends did for their moms.”

“What?” Mom was truly taken aback.

“Come on, Mom. You know teenage boys get a thing on for their moms. All my friends did and I did too. Except they tried things and I was always afraid to. I didn’t know why but now I do.”

I kissed her neck again. She didn’t pull away.

“Tried things? What things?” she asked, concern showing on her face.

“You know, kissing them and feeling them up.”

“Your friends felt up their moms?” she asked, her voice sounding incredulous. I kissed her neck again, a longer kiss this time. I let my hands slip down to hold her waist.

“Yes,” I whispered, kissing her cheek.

“I can’t believe that. What happened?”

“They let them because they were moms.” I moved my lips down to kiss her neck again and pulled her back toward me. Seeming quite rattled, Mom let me kiss her again.

“And this still goes on?”

“For some of them, yes. Others have moved on. It’s just a phase mothers help their sons through.”

Mom was clearly thinking, not paying attention to what I was doing. I was almost munching in the nape of her neck, squeezing my lips on her collar bone. I let my left hand move up her waist and around to her front a little while my right tugged her back tighter against me.

“Did they tease you because you couldn’t?” Her voice sounded concerned that her son had gone without something others had. She didn’t question my bullshit about my friends being able to feel up their Moms.

“No. I didn’t let on. I acted like I was doing the same, that you let me too.”

“Oh.” Her answer was quiet. I pulled her rump against me but she didn’t seem to notice. I guess she was digesting the idea that I had told my friends that I was feeling her up, but then they were saying that they were doing the same. It didn’t seem to strike her that maybe we were all bullshitting.

“And some of them are still doing this?”

“Yes.” I continued my kisses on her cheek and her neck. “Some are just kissing and touching, some are way past that, and some have moved on to younger women.” I was really getting a handle on this on-the-fly story telling.

“So, they’re just kind of showing the way, their Moms? Like teaching?”

“That’s right, Mom,” I planted a small kiss right on her ear, “except it’s more like letting them learn by doing, rather than teaching. You know, letting them try things without having some teenage girl freak out on them if they do something wrong.” I let my left hand slide up two inches to nudge the bottom of her breast, taking up some of its weight. I kissed her ear again.

“So your friends think I’m helping you too?”

“That’s right, Mom.” I purposely emphasized ‘Mom’.

Mom leaned forward and turned the stove off. “So what have you told them?”

I could feel myself stiffen at her acceptance, and of course, at the way her bum pressed harder against me when she leaned into the stove.

“You haven’t said you were way up there like some of them, have you?”

“No, no. I just said you let me kiss you and feel you up a bit, and uh...”

“And what?”

“Uh ... I said you’ve been letting me see you lately.”

“Lorne!”

“Well, Mom. They’re all way past that. They’ve been able to do that for a long time. And now they want me to prove it.”

“Prove it?” her eyes opened wide. “You mean, pictures?”

“No, no,” I quickly tried to head off her apprehension. “They just want me to be able to describe it realistically, like I could if I’d really seen you.”

“Oh.” She seemed to settle down at that.

Always one to push the envelope, I added, “But some have pictures.” I felt her tense in my hands. “But without faces. You couldn’t recognize them.” She relaxed again.

“Oh.” A long pause followed during which I kissed her neck again and pushed my left hand up into her breast. “I’d have to think about that,” she said.

“What?” I asked, opening my hand to form it into a cup.

“Pictures,” she said quietly. I pressed my open palm against her breast and squeezed her back to me.

“You could think about it while you let me kiss you, Mom. I’ve never kissed a girl while we were laying down, even at a party.” I turned her away from the stove, toward the kitchen doorway.

“But don’t you want to have your breakfast first?”

“No, I’m not hungry anymore.”

I was starving actually but she seemed pliant and I didn’t want to take any chance that would change her mind, like I’m sure she would if she stopped to think about it. I steered her upstairs and down the hallway. She walked woodenly, as if unsure of it all, but she turned into her room and headed for her bed.

“Are you sure that their moms let them do more than just kiss?” she asked as she sat on the edge of her bed.

“Definitely, Mom. I’m the real novice at parties, it’s almost a joke.” I pulled her slippers off and tugged on the belt of her robe. “We can’t kiss with this big terry cloth robe on.”

She let me tug the sleeves off her arms and push the robe off her shoulders. She seemed to be still thinking about how much the other moms were doing. I was pleasantly surprised to see that she wasn’t wearing button up flannel pajamas. She was wearing a three quarter length nightie made of some thin cotton material with a lace bodice that looked like a dress slip. It wasn’t a real sexy item but she looked nice in it and I could tell she didn’t have a bra under it.

To comfort her, I said, “Just let me practice kissing you, Mom.”

I pushed her back on the bed. She lifted her hips and shifted her weight into the middle of the bed, actually slipping under the covers. I slipped in beside her, quickly taking her into my arms. Pausing briefly, I kissed her several times on each cheek, a couple of times on her forehead, and then her nose. I laughed at that, and she smiled back.

“See. It’s just natural. A Mom helping her son.” I emphasized ‘Mom’ again and smiled, kissed her on the nose again and then quickly took possession of her lips. I didn’t kiss her hard and long. I kissed her many times with small kisses but worked up to longer and longer ones. After five or ten minutes had passed we were engaging in long, intense kisses and I was pressing my body against hers, full length.

During a pause, I complained that I was too hot and needed to take my robe off too. As I stripped it off, Mom asked, “How long do they practice for?”

“Oh, at least an hour at a time,” I made up some data for her, “usually twice a day.” Thankfully my face was turned away dropping my robe to the floor.

“An hour. Twice a day.” Mom seemed incredulous. She hadn’t noticed that I was only wearing my underwear now.

“Sometimes more,” I added, taking her in my arms once more and regaining possession of her mouth. After another five minutes, I started slipping my tongue between her lips. I had been planning this for several minutes, expecting resistance, but there was none. We continued as if it was a natural progression. I loved having my tongue in her mouth and the feeling of hers in mine was exquisite.

I had my arms right around her back now, and hers were around my neck and shoulders. I had been rolling side to side as I kissed her and had managed to get her legs open. My cock had actually pressed against her pussy once or twice. I kept trying to nudge her softness there but she twisted her pelvis away as soon as she noticed but I could tell it excited her by the way it throbbed before she turned away. I was sorely temped to rub up and down, as if I was actually fucking her, but was afraid of going too far. As it was, it was after one of these presses that she pushed me away.

“That’s enough for today,” she said, panting. “Whew, I haven’t kissed like that for a long time.”

I realized that I would have to stop when she said that. I somehow knew that if I tried to force her, she’d quit for good. But that didn’t stop me from trying to be a little naughty, to get a little more for quitting nicely like a good boy.

“Ok Mom. But let me see a little then.”

“What?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath.

“Show me. All the other guys have seen. Just let me see your tits.”

“Lorne. Don’t talk like that.”

“Well it seems funny to call them breasts.” I tugged the front of her nightie.

Mom looked torn. She didn’t really want to do it.

“Please Mom. I’m way behind all the other guys.”

“No. I don’t care what the other boys are allowed to do.”

I was only momentarily crushed because I’d been here many times growing up. This ploy always worked. If I said other boys were allowed to do something, or had some new coveted toy, she always caved in the end. I put on the expression and mannerism that I had always used in these situations. I could see evidence in Mom’s face of the strings pulling at her heart.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe later this week, ... but we’re not doing this every day for an hour, let alone twice a day, so don’t get your hopes up,” she said.

“I won’t,” I promised but nevertheless stared at her breasts, especially her nipples which had stiffened considerably during our necking session and were poking proudly through her nightie.

Mom noticed my look of awe and crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding her treasures from me. But she didn’t seem angry about my adulation.

“Now run along and get your own breakfast.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt less like eating in my whole life than at that moment. Well that’s it so far. I’ll write in soon to keep you posted.

I fished through the rest of that bundle hoping that Lorne had written in soon since he had expected further action within days. I found his next letter near the end of the bundle.

Hello everyone. I haven’t heard back from you about my first letter yet but I have more to report so thought I’d send another letter right away. I know that I was being a creep leading my mother on like this but I couldn’t turn down the chance to fool around with her, now could I? Would you? Please keep that in mind when you’re reading my letters.

Anyway. Here’s what happened next.

True to her word, Mom wasn’t about to let me make out with her every day, let alone twice a day, as she put it. In fact, several days went by without any opportunity for me to be alone with her. I tried acting sick but it didn’t work. I always had to get up and get a ride with Dad to my stupid summer job. I began to think that she hadn’t bought my story about almost everyone else getting to fool around with their moms. When you really think about it, who would buy that, even if they thought it was something people would keep private.

On the third night, I took every opportunity when Mom and Dad were in different rooms to join Mom and give her a kiss or a hug, and when they were together I made a point of watching her and smiling at her. At first, Mom seemed pleased with the attention but then she got annoyed, casting furtive glances at Dad to see if he was also aware of the extra attention I was directing at her.

Late in the evening, I followed Mom into the kitchen and hung about while she made a snack for her and Dad. My attempt to kiss her was angrily rebuffed.

“Stop it, Lorne,” she whispered curtly.

“Just as I thought,” I grumbled. “The guys were right.”

“What do you mean by that?” she whispered sternly.

“It’s just like the guys said.”

“What guys? What did they say?”

“I told them I found out I was adopted and they said that explained why I never got to go as far as they did.” I turned to sulk away.

“Wait. Wait, dammit!” Mom managed to sound like she was shouting but she was still whispering. “Come back here,” she hissed, pointing to the floor in front of her, like when I was little and she was really mad.

I skulked back to stand in front of her.

“I’ve been your mother all your life since you were only a month old. Don’t you tell me that I don’t love you! And don’t you let those guys say that either, you hear me?”

“Yes Mom,” I shuffled my feet. “I won’t ... I’m sorry.”

Again, I turned away, my head hung low. But Mom grabbed me, put her arms around me, and hugged me to her. I could feel her breasts pressing into my back, her head leaning on my shoulder. She released me and spun me around. Smiling up at me, she patted my shoulders and upper arms and whispered confidentially, “Why don’t you go up to bed in a few minutes but tell me you don’t feel well before you go up.”

“I don’t feel well?” I repeated, looking at her, confused.

“Not here,” she said. “In the living room, in front of Dad. Tell me then.”

“Oh,” I said, still not on the same page as her.

“I don’t think you’re going to be well enough to go to work tomorrow morning,” she whispered, smiling, and then standing up on her toes and giving me a short kiss on my lips. She spun around. “Run along, now.”

Duh. I finally got it. It was hard to look depressed and sick in front of Dad because I was now elated. I hung around, drinking the hot chocolate and eating the cookies Mom brought out for us before doing the world’s worst acting job of having sudden stomach pains. Dad seemed to buy it but when I turned back to look before climbing the stairs, he had already focused back on the TV and Mom rolled her eyes at me. How was it that I was managing to fool her?

I half hoped she would come to check on me before going to bed herself. I listened closely as my parents readied themselves for bed an hour after I had retired. The house went still. They were going to sleep. I was about to fall off myself when the hall light went on. Looking at the light shining under my door, I heard mom half whisper to Dad, “I’m just going to check on him. I’m sure he’s OK and sleeping.”

My door opened very quietly, and was pushed almost closed, the hall light flooding a wedge into my room across the end of my bed. I felt Mom’s weight ease onto my bed and her hand gently touch my head.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” she asked, as if she really did believe that I was ill.

I opened my eyes. She was smiling and her eyes looked truly concerned as she brushed the hair away from my face. She was wearing just her nightie. No robe. And the nightie was shorter than the three quarter length thing she’d worn a few days ago. This one was above her knees. Her eyes followed mine.

“Oh, so you have more than just a breast fetish, do you?” She laughed, enjoying herself at my expense as my face flushed.

Her right hand dropped to her knee and then slowly pulled her nightie up to just above her mid thigh. She lifted herself as she did so, allowing the nightie to ride up under her leg as well. I think she watched me as she bared her legs but I’m not sure because my eyes were fixed on the hem of that nightie as it traveled higher. When she stopped I could see her thighs up to where they thickened and the flesh squeezed together.

“There’s more to a woman than breasts, you know,” Mom said in the same amused tone, leaning in to kiss me on my forehead, “much more.” Then she added, “We’re a little complicated for you men, even when you get older. It’s no wonder you need help at this age.” Noting my gaze, she queried me again, this time wanting a response, “You want to see further up, don’t you?”

I nodded.

She leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my mouth. I watched her breasts when she straightened up, jostling unrestrained and uninhibited under her nightie. I wished she’d left the door open wider to allow more light. She just sat there, watching me watch her breasts. She laughed that laugh again as my eyes slid down to her legs once more.

“Ah, so you’re a leg man,” she whispered. “I’m learning new things about my boy.” Again she laughed, almost a low growl, a laugh I hadn’t heard before.

She sat still, letting me look, watching my eyes slide over her thighs, falling into the crease between and peeking into the darkness under the hem. Finally, she said, “I’d better go now. I was just checking so I could report that you really are sick.”

She leaned in and kissed me softly on the mouth again. When she straightened up, I sat up as well, reaching to take her in my arms. She pulled back, but didn’t get up.

“No, I have to get to bed.”

“Just one kiss,” I demanded.

“No, your Dad’s waiting for me.” Still she just sat there.

“A goodnight kiss,” I insisted, leaning forward to put my arm around her, pulling her head to mine, bringing her mouth to me. Within seconds, my tongue was in her mouth. Minutes passed. It was a long kiss which ended with her leaning back over my legs, my left hand pressed against her side, her right breast resting on my wrist as it curled around her abdomen. We were both breathing quickly. Her eyes were sparkling as she got up, watching me as I leaned back to make way for her.

She stood, brushed her nightie down over her legs and started to the door.

“Mom,” I whispered when she was halfway there. She stopped and turned, looking at me, not saying anything. She looked gorgeous, still out of breath, her hair mussed up.

“Would you leave your slippers here so I can watch you walk away in your bare feet?”

Mom didn’t answer. She stood there for about 15 seconds and then silently walked back to stand in front of me at the side of my bed. I could hear her shuffling her slippers off her feet, kicking them under the bed. Without a word, she turned and walked, more slowly now, toward the door. Her fingers grasped her nightie on each side and pulled it up until the hem was at mid thigh, like she’d done on the bed. I watched until she finally disappeared. Seconds later, the hall went dark.

You’d think I would have had trouble falling asleep, wouldn’t you? But I didn’t. I started thinking about her legs, her thighs, and her question when she saw where I was looking, ‘You want to see further up, don’t you?’ It seemed that I’d just thought about that and then I was waking up, with the same thought in my mind. I could hear my parents voices downstairs. The clock showed that I was already late, even if I got up now. Mom must have convinced Dad that I was truly sick. The voices stopped. I didn’t hear Dad drive away, so I stayed in bed. I could hear the radio playing.

Time passed. I was impatient but I wasn’t sure whether Dad was still downstairs for some reason and if I went to see and he was still there I’d probably end up going to work. Finally, I heard someone coming upstairs. I put on my sick look in case it was Dad.

The door pushed open and Mom entered, carrying a tray with my breakfast. Toast and eggs, sliced up apple, juice and a coffee. I sat up in bed, shedding my sickly demeanor as Mom set the tray on my legs. She was wearing her robe so I couldn’t see how she was dressed. She was barefoot, I noticed. I wondered if she’d done that for me. She had several pairs of slippers, and she didn’t try to retrieve the ones she’d kicked under my bed.