Timmy #15: Sex with Mom

Fucking My Mother

Where I Left Off

Diana had just told me that she was going to spend the night at Lana’s and that she was taking Abbey with her, leaving me alone with Mom, who was picking me up after my wrestling practice. Why? To make sure I wouldn’t run in the opposite direction? That made me laugh. I knew that wasn’t the reason. Not after our kitchen kiss. So why? Was my mother eager to get me home after a hot and sweaty wrestling practice? Maybe. But I think she had decided to pick me up after practice to show the other moms that the game was on.

Before practice started, Diana sent me a text: Take charge of Mom tonight. The first time I read that, I thought it said care...

Thursday Night, After Practice

Wrestling practice didn’t fly by for me. We have a big wrestling room, but there is no place to sit. Nobody sits in our wrestling room. No one watches either, not without permission from our head coach. We close the doors, turn up the heat, and we get to work. There’s no clock either. Only our coaches know the time; the rest of us just put in the work until our coaches told us to stop.

The worst part about practice is cleaning the mats afterward. I knew many of the moms and a few of the dads were waiting for us after practice. I’ve wondered if the fathers had ever suspected what kind of wives they had—and knowing that our moms were outside the room, talking about who knows what—made every sweep, mop, spray, and dry mop feel like it took twice as long as it actually did.

We left the wrestling room with our coaches reminding us to clean our shoes and file our nails. Anyone who didn’t pass the before-practice inspection had to do two minutes’ worth of high-intensity up-downs for memory reinforcement. The coaches said our reinforcement drills would only last two minutes—that was a mind-fuck—because our reinforcement drills lasted until the coaches decided we’d no longer forget their instructions again. “One more minute” was code for “We’re not even close to done.”

Anyway, when practice ended, our mothers were waiting for us—the eighteen-year-olds—under the night sky. There were about ten of them this time, others waited in the parking lot, but there were always mothers that you could count on to wait right outside the door. Their eyes bore into us. Some of the mothers held their hands up near their mouths, a finger to their lips, while others smiled at their sons as their eyes passed over everyone, taking in all the hard bodies they could.

The chill their hungry eyes gave me was a good one.

I walked to Mom, who was wearing a winter dress—a light brown sweater dress that dropped to her upper thighs and hung loosely about her body, but not so loose it didn’t outline her breasts or thighs when she moved just right. It was a long-sleeved sweater dress paired with white tennis shoes, and her toned, tanned legs were uncovered for all to see. A dress like that, so easily lifted to find the naked body beneath—if Diana had been wearing it—never failed to warm my blood or swell my shaft.

Prisha and several of the other moms stood near my mother. Others stood off to the sides, forming a half-crescent around their sons as we walked toward them. Every one of them smiled at me in a sober version of theyou know what I expect from you smile they had given me during our last team-building pool party.

“Timmy,” Mom said. “Prisha’s husband will be away for the weekend. I volunteered you to help Justin move some furniture after your meet on Saturday.”

“You don’t mind helping me, do you, Timmy?” Prisha asked.

Her son, Justin, looked at his mom, then at me, then shrugged.

Before I could answer, ten sets of eyes focused on me. I felt like a baby turtle freshly hatched, and every fucking hawk in the sky had just turned their hungry eyes in my direction. I almost took a step backward.

Mrs. Nguyen, who was standing to Mom’s right, said, “I could use some help with something on Sunday, Timmy.”

The other moms narrowed their eyes, casting evil glares at Mrs. Nguyen.

“With what?” Kevin, Mrs. Nguyen’s son, asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Mrs. Nguyen said to him.

“Yeah, no problem.” I forced a smile to my lips, trying to act like the stud I had become. “I don’t mind helping anyone who needs help. It will be my pleasure.”

Some of my teammates laughed, but I think they knew, in their way, that our jokes about our mothers were about to become real.

Mom and I said our goodbyes; then we went home.

Drive Home

We drove in near silence. It was only a three-mile drive, and I powered the window down to help with my wrestling scent, as Diana had called my musk one day after picking me up from practice. Mom asked me if I was hungry, speaking in a quiet voice. I thought I heard a soft tremor in her words.

Take charge of Mom. Only I wasn’t remembering the text Diana had sent me; I was hearing my sister’s voice between my ears.

“I’m going to take a shower when we get home,” I said. I looked at Mom. Her dress lay crumpled in her lap so high it looked as though she had forgotten to wear pants tonight. Take charge of her. “In your room. You can join me if you want to.”

Mom sucked in a breath, her upper body rolling as if the coolest breeze in the world had slid up her skirt and around her muff. She swallowed, her throat moving, and her eyes widened a bit, though she said nothing in response to my offer.

“I’ll leave the door open for you,” I said as my heartbeat thumped beneath my chest, growing harder when I reached across the center console and placed my left hand on the middle of Mom’s thigh. My long fingers curled down the inside of her leg, near the hottest part of her body.

“I think I’ll have some wine when we get home,” she said with a breathless, suddenly anxious rush of words.

Mom’s legs parted. Her heat filled my palm. Her chest rose and fell with sharper, quicker breaths as the world outside my window whipped across my vision in a blur of colors. I moved my hand toward her knee, then back up, pulling her thigh closer to me, angling her knee far to her right—it didn’t hinder her driving.

“Bring the wine up to your room,” I said. I stopped my hand when my pinky finger touched the softer meat of her inner thigh, a few inches away from the source of the heat radiating outward from between her legs. “Wait for me.” My cock hardened, the shaft swelling with a thick, rubbery inflation.

Mom took a deep, shaky breath, then said, “Okay.”

I squeezed her leg again. My pinky finger strayed further up her thigh for the last mile home, a little at a time. Her skin grew softer and damper the further up I went. Less than half a mile from home, the scent of Mom’s floral lust filled the car, hitting my nostrils with an intoxicating perfume. I moved my pinky finger higher, dipping into the hollow where her inner thigh curved into her fat outer labia. Mom sucked in her breath. Her skin was so fucking hot as I rubbed the soft edge of her tiny panties.

Mom hit the gas, and I jerked forward, my hand leaving her leg. We pulled into our driveway a minute later, maybe less. I exited the car before Mom killed the ignition.

Fucking My Mother

Hot water ran down my skin. I closed my eyes as streams of liquid outlined my body, rinsing the dried sweat from my body. My cock hung against my sack like an elephant’s trunk, waiting for the slightest sign to go hard.

I tried not to think while the jets of water sprayed me down. Goosebumps beaded my flesh despite the heat clouding the air around me. Would my mother be waiting for me ... naked? Would she offer me wine? Would I drink it? How did she want me to fuck her? Fuck her or make love to her? I was in love with Diana, but I loved my mother—what would happen afterward? Was it possible to be in love with two women or even three?

I’m in over my head. The thought ran through my head several times before I turned the water off and stepped out of the glass-walled shower. I dried myself off in my mother’s white and black marble bathroom with its long his-and-her sink and wall-length mirror.

After drying myself, I used the mirror to check myself out. I had a great body, firm, tight, muscular, broad shoulders, light brown hair, and blue eyes, eyes like Diana’s ... like Abbey’s. The same blue eyes as the father we barely knew. I looked like him too. Did Mom see him in me?

I looked at the restroom door, which I had left cracked open. Not very inviting of me. I had tied the towel around my waist, but I undid the tucked-in corner of the towel and let it drop to the floor, leaving me standing completely naked with half a hard-on.

“I’m about to fuck my mother,” I said, shaking my head. My mother, the woman I had compared all others to in my life. Mom —a giant among women. No, a titan—no, a goddess. Still, knowing that I was about to slip my cock into the pussy that birthed me felt so ... normal.

Thanks, Diana.

My dick responded, the body thickening and rising, lifting its head like a snake sensing prey. Take charge of Mom tonight. I could do that. I took charge of Diana once in a while, but if she were telling me to take charge of our mother, then I would. I turned the door, opened it, and walked into my mother’s bedroom with a full erection that swung from side to side in front of me.

Mom stood at the side of her bed, facing me. On the nightstand next to her sat a bottle of wine. She held a big glass with a deep bowl and a big stem in her raised right hand. She still wore her sweater dress and tennis shoes, but a pair of little satin panties lay on the nightstand next to her wine bottle. Mom’s eyes widened when she saw my cock in all of its hard, erect glory.

That’s right, Mom, I thought.

“It’s all for you,” I said, not having any idea what the fuck I was talking about or why I had said those words instead of thinking them, but at least Mom didn’t laugh. No, she licked her lips before downing half of the wine in her glass. “You wanted it, right?”

Mom nodded her head, breathing heavy, her breasts rising and falling beneath her sweater dress. My heart pounded within my chest; the beat loud in my ears.

“Turn around,” I said.

Mom put her wine glass down and turned around. As I walked toward her, her body seemed to grow smaller, and she no longer appeared larger than life to me when I finally stood behind her, my size dwarfing her ... my cock so big as it hung above her round ass.

I put my hands on my mother’s shoulders and rolled my fingers and thumbs over her muscles. Mom shuddered, releasing a shaky breath, and I kissed the back of her head through her blonde hair. She made a soft sound as I lowered my hands down her arms to her elbows, then pulled my hands back so I could put my hands on her sides. The soft wool of her dress let me press my fingers into her body. I felt her ribs, the smallness of her in my hands, and I pushed forward, resting my palms underneath her big tits.

“This is what you want, Mom,” I said. “This is what you want your son to do.”

“Yes,” Mom said, answering me even though I had framed my words as statements.

I raised my hands and cupped her large, heavy breasts. Mom moaned as I squeezed her big tits, filling my palms with the soft-firmness of her large mounds, my fingers grasping soft tit meat. Her nipples pushed against her sweater, digging into my palms and giving me chills. I pressed my body to hers, the tip of my cock hitting her lower back and angling down between her cheeks, nestling in the softness of her wool-covered butt crack.

“I love your tits, Mom,” I whispered as I massaged them.

“You used to suck them when you were little,” Mom said, panting.

Those words caused a pulse to shoot through my shaft, thickening my erection with its energy from root to tip. I ground my cock into my mother’s butt, saying, “Tonight, I’m going to suck them again.”

“Oh god,” Mom whispered.

I lowered my hands down her front, over her firm stomach, and around her hips, stopping at her sides. I pushed my hands lower. My fingers pointed down as I bent my knees and reached under the hem of my mother’s dress. My palms touched her bare thighs, and I lifted my hands upward. The hem caught on my wrist, bunching up as I slid the wool up her body, baring the hard curves she worked so hard to maintain. She was naked beneath her dress, all the way to her bouncy tits, which filled my palms all over again, this time with flesh to flesh contact.

“Timmy,” Mom said, panting as I pushed my cock between the two naked swells of her firm, tender backside.

I squeezed her tits, running my fingers over her thick, rosy nipples, tugging and pulling them and making my mother whimper. I lowered my head to her right shoulder and kissed her neck. She shivered. I turned my head to the right, catching our reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom’s closed door.

My body stood straight up and down, but Mom’s had the sexy S curve, with a dip in her lower back, her round ass jutting against my cock, and her breasts sitting in my hands, their bottoms round and full. I laid my head against her shoulder and watched us for a moment.