Copyright© 2003

She begged and she pleaded for more.
I said, "We've already had four,
And I'm sure that you've heard,
Though it's somewhat absurd,
That eros spelt backwards is sore."

"Leave him!"

Mom's face lost all colour and her mouth opened as if her jaw had just dropped. She was stricken with the concept that I had just laid before her. You see, mother had no one else but her family - myself and dad. Her parents were long dead and her brother just up and disappeared nearly twenty years before. Then there was the lack of friends - dad disapproved of everyone she had ever associated with.

My theory was that dad did not want mom to be happy. I went so far as to guess the old man felt some sort of demented need to keep mom 'down' else she may just realize how crappy dad treated her and leave him. He was a bastard, that much was for certain, yet I have never had proof that he actually hit mom - only verbally abuse her to the point of outright humiliation and neglect.

Before I left home for University, I used to hear him berating her any time the two were in the same room. Rarely did it turn into yelling, unless dad was very mad, instead it was terse negative comments.

I could see how it affected mom, of course, how she took each comment without a response or pause - simply accepting every word that her husband threw at her.

Nothing she did was right - and I mean nothing. From the cleanliness of our immaculate home to the temperature of our steaming hot supper to even to the schedule she was forced to keep. Even what she dressed, not that she had many clothes and certainly nothing new or stylish, was not good enough for him.

Even late at night, when my parents where behind the closed door of their bedroom I could hear him grunting but never a sound from her even though their bed springs told me exactly what they were doing. Then after he finished I could hear him telling her how old and ugly she was getting, or how fat and how he only fucked her out of duty as his own hand gave him more pleasure. He called her all sorts of names when they were alone and threatened to leave her if she did not suck him better or move her ass like she meant it.

Yet there was also the nights that dad was not at home, usually gone out drinking with friends, and could hear mother crying in her room. Sobbing the hours away until I could hear little whimpers and the bed springs again and I knew what she doing. Giving herself the pleasure that dad could not deliver.

You see, I grew up hating my father while feeling helpless and empathetic toward mother. As an early teenager I used to have dreams of being a knight and saving mom, the queen, from the evil king, dad. Yes I was attracted to her - partially out of love and partially because she is rather physically attractive. I tried to tell her how much I thought she was pretty and how much I loved her but my adolescent fumbling words were like wisps of smoke to fathers dominant black force.

So, years later, I graduate and found a very good job and even have my own apartment. I have a steady stream of women in my life but I have never found that one, someone that I could love and care about enough to want to live with. Mom and dad are older now - they are a strange couple - but nothing has changed since I was a teenager in their home.

The plan was simple, take the afternoon off of work and visit mom at home when dad was at work. She was overjoyed at the unannounced visit and made a pot of tea for the both of us and sat down at the kitchen table together. Then I told her what I had come to tell her and she simply sat, stunned.

My reaction was to get defencive. "Mom, I hate how he treats you!" I reached out and took one of her hands in both of my own, holding and stroking it tenderly.

Mother was looking at our hands when the tears welled up in her eyes. Finally through a cracking voice, mother finally responded, "And where would I go Jim?"

I didn't say a word. For one thing, from the tone of her voice I knew she did not expect an answer - hell, both of us knew she had no where to go. No friends, no family, no money... nothing.

But she has me. "You could stay at my place mom... !" I was about to add that she could move out when she got back on her feet - isn't that what I'm supposed to say?

Mom yanked her hand from my own and took a lengthy sip of her tea. Whens her eyes returned to my own, I saw that the tears had dried up. This told me much about my proposal to mother - she thought she could never leave and probably had never even considered it. "That would put a crimp in your style honey, your 'mommy' living with you?" I could hear the forced lightness in her voice, she wanting to make light of this conversation.

I was serious when I answered, "I love you mom and want you to be happy." I doubt mother had been happy since before I was born.

The centre of her chin quivered and I could tell that she was forcing her emotions down, just where dad likes them to be. She finally answered after a lengthy silence, "No matter how bad you think your father treats me - it would be better than being alone!" Her voice had risen as if angry and she stood up and faced the open window and the sun streaming through, "Besides, you father loves me!"

Standing there before the window, arms crossed over her chest and acting so defiantly, the light of the bright mid-day sun caused her old dress to become almost translucent and I could see the curves of her body beneath.

I went away from my parents home thinking about the curves of her body and remembering the distant whimpers of her self pleasure when I had been a teenager.

There was something else that I had not yet revealed to you - when I was in my early teens, those fantasies that I rescued mom slowly transformed into something else, something so private that I have never considered telling another person... until now. You see - after I saved the queen from her husband, the evil king, she would be most thankful to the brave knight. At first I imagined chaste kisses and hugs but as time went forward the queen thanked me often with her lips... on my dick. Not long after that self-revelation, I gave up the king and queen fantasy and simply imagined mother, naked with me, fucking, sucking, begging and enjoying.

Those curves of her body before the window, days before, had reminded me of those past fantasies. Not that I've given them totally up - just that they were rarely sought out for my self-pleasuring images.

These memories gave rise to a plan - one that I will not explain to you but you will have the pleasure of witnessing, if only in these words that I write.

The plan was started with a simple question to my father, while we sat at the table eating our Sunday dinner. This was a totally normal occurrence, and since it had been weeks since I had accosted mother to leave her husband, it seemed to have been forgotten, or at least forgiven between us.

Early in the meal I explained that I had purchased a new home - out in the suburbs. After the congratulations and answering the questions about the size of the place and its amenities I told them I planned on buying some antiques for the place. My parents thought this was a great idea. Then I asked dad if mom could help - as I did not have a lot of time to drive around and look at all the crap to find a few choice pieces of furniture and mom would be a great help.

"Of course you can have her - she is useless around here anyways!" He had to add, "Though, she knows nothing about furniture let alone antique furniture!" Mother just moved her food around on her plate with her fork, as if she was not present while we talked about her.

I assured him that I would be making the choices but I just needed another set of eyes and hands to sort through all the options.

Nothing else was said about this for the rest of my visit but I saw mother looking at me suspiciously from the corner of her eye as I stood to leave and asked her to come over to my apartment noon the next Saturday.

The first place I went, with mother seated next to me in the car, was to my new house. She was properly impressed, as it was newly built, huge and completely empty.

"When do you get to move in?"

"Its mine now mom - but I thought to get the antique furniture before moving in."

She stood in the middle of the high-ceilinged living room with her arms crossed over her jacket and soberly asked, "Is this some type of ploy to get me to move in?" Mothers eyes were stern but did not blink as they looked into my own.

"Of course!" I saw her surprise at my seemingly honest response. "I have three spare rooms, and you can have any one of those mom."

She turned away so that she faced out the window - deja vue time. "Well you can forget it Jim, I'm not leaving your dad."

"There is something else mom?"

She turned only her head to look at me as if to ask what it was. "I have another motive for asking you to help me with the furniture." Actually I asked dad, but I thought it prudent not to state the obvious. "I wanted to get you alone, away from dad, so we could spend time together."

I had told dad, when I picked up mom, that I needed her help for the next several Saturdays. From noon until I returned her - often before midnight, as it was nearly forty minutes to my new house. And I had warned him that some of the antique dealers were out of town and I may want to take mom on overnight trips. What I had been asking for was plenty of time with mom, alone. He only grunted, a little angry at me interrupting his football game on the television.

Mothers voice was considerably softer when she stated, "Its not going to work Jim."

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms about her to give her an awkward hug. Awkward since her arms were still crossed over her chest and she wore her bulky jacket. As I held her for half a minute I kissed the top of her head once, softly.

When I let her go, mom's arms dropped to her sides and she gave me a soft smile.

Mom was wrong, this was going to work.

For the next two Saturday's we spent in the empty house - going through catalogues and product lists that I had collected from various dealers. I enjoyed looking at my mother seated cross-legged, or laying upon her side or front, in the middle of the empty cavernous living room while she used a highlighter to mark the interesting items.

That second week, just about six o'clock, I interrupted mother and asked if she was hungry. She was, but expected me to order another pizza like last week. "Grab your jacket mom - I noticed a place close by and would like to see if they have good food." She only paused for a second before following me toward the door to the garage, and my car.

Our meal was fine and mother took a while to relax so that we had a private conversation seated across from each other in the small booth. As we were leaving I saw a florist shop just down the block and told mom I would be right back. I returned to my car and handed mother a single red rose. She took it shocked and I imagined she thought I was buying flowers for a girlfriend.

Her first reaction was anticipated, "I... I can't take this home!" To dad, she meant.

That is when I produced the vase, "No problem mom... just leave it at my house!"

Mother smelled that rose and stole small glances at me the whole ride home. Where she set the flower in the vase right above the natural rock fireplace mantel and stood to admire it for some minutes before returning to the catalogues and lists.

It was nearly three more weeks when I took her to a pub in the neighbourhood and asked mom to dance. She turned red and shook her head 'no', but I could see that she wanted too. So I dragged my mother to the small, empty, dance floor and wrapped my arms about her waist. Her hands came up to cradle my head as we moved gently to the ballad.

It was too loud to talk but I could see and feel that mother was feeling good, the three wine glasses did not hurt either.

At the end of the song, I kissed her brow, lingering as I felt her hands fiercely hold me against her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

We, all too soon, parted and returned to our meal.

That next week when mom slide into my car, I confronted her with a change of plan for our day. "The first pieces came yesterday mom. I thought we would take the day off and celebrate?"

For the first hour each time I picked mom up, she was quiet and distant - taking time to purge herself from my fathers presence is how I thought of it. So when she shrugged and mumbled 'fine', I put the car into gear and sped off.

I went to a upscale centre in the middle of town - and mom did not hide her surprise when I lead her directly to a very expensive women clothing store. I told the sales woman that my 'friend' needed a dress for dinner and dancing this very night, price was no issue. She took mothers hand and lead her to expensive cocktail dresses in the back. Just looking at the rack of short skirts, many with see-through material - mother leaned over and stated flatly in an embarrassed whisper, "I can't wear those tonight!"

"Why not mom?"

"Because I don't have the right kind of underwear!" She turned back to the rack of clothing and the politely smiling sales lady. "Why don't we go back to that pub Jim?" We had been there twice and I could tell mom rather enjoyed it.

"Don't worry Jane", that was the first time that I had called mother by her first name and her eyes shot wide whens he heard it, "after we get you the perfect dress there is a lingerie shop just down the hall. Isn't that correct?" I was asking the sales women so as to deflect mothers shocked comments.

"Certainly sir! With the right dress and complimentary lingerie, you will look very sexy madam!"

Mother let herself be led by the sales woman as I found a chair and sat down and waited.

When mother had the dress in a box, she gave it to me and asked that I wait for her in the car in twenty minutes. You see, she had no intention of picking our her 'underwear' with me watching.

When mother emerged from the bathroom in my home an hour later, she looked fantastic. The black skirt stopped just before the knee, and her legs were encased in black nylon and her feet in black slippers. From the waist up she was more conservative, a rose coloured silk blouse with the buttons done nearly to her throat.

So I took my mother to a dinner-theatre, where we sat and watched the actors go through the motions of their scenes. Yet we were both guilty of stealing glances at the other, our thoughts private.

The dinner was fantastic the play fair, mother though was magnificent.

A band came on after the dessert was cleaned up and I lead mother to the dance floor. She went willingly.

For forty-five minutes we danced to each and every song. She was not too bad for a woman that has not danced in over two decades because she did not seem to notice another soul in the room but myself, and I could see that she was having fun and just let loose.

The car ride back to my new house was quiet but in no way disagreeable. Mother did not hide her open gaze at me or the small happy smile that turned up the edges of her red lips.

"This has been the best evening that I can remember Jim."

We were just turning into my street. I gave mom a soft smile as a response.

She laughed softly, nervously, "I just wished my feet did not hurt so much else this would be the perfect evening."

I reached over and laid my hand upon her black-nylon clad knee and squeezed it firmly, "Why don't I give you a foot massage after you have a shower." I had suggested after purchasing mothers things, that she change at my place - and when we were done for the evening, she could leave them there. She had not responded then.

Mother's gaze looked down to her lap where my hand held her exposed knee and in a voice that sounded like she was in a trance she said, "If you like."

I pulled my hand from her so that I could down shift my car as I pulled into my garage.

Mother disappeared with but a nervous glance my way and in only a couple of minutes I heard the shower upstairs running. When I lived at home dad would tell mom not to use so much hot water when she bathed or showered, therefore mother always had quick and often cold showers. That tendency had not changed this evening as I heard the water turn off within ninety seconds of it turning on.

When mother appeared in the living room wearing a large towel wrapped about her body I was nearly floored. I had expected her to appear back in her old slacks and bulky ugly sweater. She watched me closely, seeing how I stole my eyes down to her exposed legs and thighs - seeing my obvious pleasure and smiling herself in response.

There was only a single piece of furniture in the room - a huge antique flat-topped chest. This is what mother and I had found and purchased with our efforts. So mother strode up to it and sat down, all the while watching me intently.

So I knelt down upon the floor before her.

When I looked down to mothers thighs, the towel having only covered her to mid-thigh while she was standing, and seeing that her knees were not together so that I saw up beneath the shadow of the damp towel and to the curly dark mass between her thighs. Evidently she was not the only one that had an alternative agenda to our getting together.

With trembling hands I reached and took her small foot and lifted it between us. Using both hands, the two thumbs firmly pressing in while moving up and down the instep of mother's foot, I began to massage her with skill earned over the years with various girlfriends.

Quickly, mother responded to my ministrations by sighing openly and then dropping back to lay upon the flat chest top. Now I could look right up beneath the towel without any obstruction at her thick bush of hair between her legs. Perhaps it was unconscious when mother moved her legs wider apart so that even her outer labia spread until I saw the glistening pink wrinkled flesh beneath.

I moved to the second foot, holding it high between us and openly appraised mothers vagina even as my hands massaged her. She had her eyes closed, but I had to look past her rapidly rising and falling breasts and could not help but notice that her nipples were hard and extended so much that I could see them through the thick towel.

Things were moving way too quickly for me - my plan was to wine and dine her for several weekends and then get her drunk enough so that she would be a willing participant to my planned advances. Yet, though she had a few glasses of wine, she was not so drunk as to forget whom I was nor anything else gave an answer to her seemingly open acceptance to her son gazing hungrily at her vagina.

Why had this been so easy? Had it anything to do with the love I showed her - the only person in her life to do so. Or perhaps the admiring gaze I looked upon her when we were alone - a look that I doubt she had ever felt. Then there was the possibility that she had known that her teenage son had peeked at his mother while she was in her underwear or had listened to her masturbate on the odd evenings that dad had left her alone. Another possibility existed, that mother did want to leave dad but could only do so when she had a person she loved to be her partner.

Of course, I could be overreacting to everything and mother was just so relaxed to not notice her son looking up between her legs.

A thought came to me, how I could tell just what was going on here between us. Though if she denied me - my larger plan could be ruined or at least set back weeks until I regained her trust. Then again she may not deny me!

I gently set mothers feet on the floor to either side of my lap and knelt upon my knees. She did not move though I suddenly froze with my hands nearly to their objective. Taking a deep breath and looking at mothers closed eyes and small smile, I regained some measure of inner strength and moved my hands forward and took the edges of the towel firmly between my fingers before pulling the flaps to either side. The knot at the top of the towel pulled away and I knelt there looking down at my mothers naked body before me. My hands let go of the towel and it fell to either side of the chest, already forgotten.

Mother had not moved but I would swear her breathing was faster now.

I sat back down upon my haunches and leaned in.

One of the things I had realized, as a teenager fantasizing about just such a moment, that given the chance I would give my own mother such pleasure that she would never, could ever, deny me again. To accomplish this feat I had envisioned something I rarely do with my past conquests but something I hand fantasied about many times with mother.

My lips kissed the top of her vaginal cleft, right over her clitoris. Mother jumped in response and gasped out, "Oh my god!" She sat up on her elbows and I could feel her eyes upon me. "Oh Jim... you don't have to do this honey!"

Was these words an admission that I had guessed wrong about was going on here and she was surprised by my actions? Still not knowing the answers to my questions I closed my eyes and slipped out my tongue.

What I discovered was a fountain of thick hot juice just beneath the surface of her hot wrinkled skin. I also realized that it tasted almost sweet, like a bawdy syrup.

It was definitely better than fantasy and I loved it.

Mother had a hand upon the top of my head, "No Jim... no one has ever done this to me before... !", and since she was not tearing my head out from between her legs I could only guess she was enjoying my work.

Spending most of the time with my tongue teasing and fondling her clitoris - mom rapidly rose to the heights of pleasure so that in less than ninety seconds she was crying out in orgasm even as her soft thighs held my head like a vise.

I lift my head after her whole body just collapsed as a heap upon the top of that large chest, and if not for mothers rapid deep breathing she could have been asleep.

What to do now? What just happened had accelerated my plan considerably. You see, I had thought to seduce mother into leaving dad. Yes, I would even seduce mother into my bed - was looking forward to it actually, but would also have been happy to accept a more innocent relationship.

What I had just done blew my mind away!

Mom was soon sitting up on her elbows again and staring at me with tired eyes. Well, not exactly staring at me - staring at the budge in my slacks. After about a minute of her staring at my obvious excitement hidden in my pants, mother brought her eyes up to my own.

Though no word was spoken mother slowly began to spread and lift her legs, bending her knees so that her heels were touching the back of her thighs, until her very wet sex was spread wide before me. I was close enough so that mother reached between her legs and with the tips of her fingers ran it over the hardness in my pants. She shivered even as I felt my dick jerk painfully in its confinement.

Then she fumbled with the zipper and something in me just snapped - this was a fantasy come true, why not just leave all morals outside this room. Obviously I had underestimated mothers love for me, perhaps a love that edged toward slut... as my own did toward her.

A little rough I pushed mom's hand away from my pants and I rushed to undo my belt and slacks, anxious to free that which we both seemed to want so badly. When my dick jerked out of my underwear and tasted the chill of the night air, mother gasped at the sight of it. She again lay back on the couch, placing one arm over her face to cover her eyes and the other she slipped between her legs so that two fingers slipped up and down between major and minor labia.

With barely a whisper I heard her plead, "Hurry Jim... put it in... !"

I sunk into mothers body with ease and for the rest of my life I will remember ever centimetre, every feeling that was conveyed to me through our joining. It was a perfect fit, stretching her sex just the right amount so that I fit snuggly in her body.

Mothers response was to gasp out and arch her back upward, her head back, with eyes still closed, and her hands reaching to hold the back of her thighs wide and back. "Oh God!"

Ever so slowly, mostly from a fear that I shall last but seconds, I moved my hips, looking down at where I was inside mother, I moved out of her body until only the fat head of my dick was inside her. I left it there briefly so as to study this image before me, memorizing it for all time. Then, and only after mother started to squirm, I sunk it quickly back into her deliciously perfect cunt.

Time stood still as I slowly withdrew and quickly plunged again and again into mother. My parent was panting roughly and was moving her hips in time to my own. My hands were busy with her full bouncing breasts, each topped with a hard nipple.

In time I was not worried about finishing too quickly, embarrassing myself before this woman that knew me better than any other person alive. Rather I was anxious to ensure mother achieved another orgasm prior to my own, or perhaps finalizing at the same moment. This was our first time and feared it may be our last - and thus, would make it memorable for the both of us.

Mother had given up holding her own legs, instead her ankles had locked behind my back while her hands roamed the front of my body, particularly my face.

Still she had her eyes tightly closed.

I heard a certain tone in her gasps, in her almost violent breathing that shadowed her earlier climax and I knew the moment was not long in coming.

I could not help but utter, "Thats it mom... come for me!"

The exact second that I felt and saw mother orgasm beneath me, I also saw tears coming from her closed eyelids. It was more powerful than the first and it seemed as if mothers body broke out in an instantaneous sweat even as every muscle in her body vibrated and jerked.

Perhaps I would have joined her, shooting my juices inside her body, if it had not been for the question of those tears upon my consciousness. Was she regretting this already? Had I done this against her will?

So, instead of completing this fantasy moment, I eased my throbbing hard prick from her body as soon as mother's legs dropped to the floor in exhaustion. My cock was covered in her sexual juices, more slowly running out of her body and onto my expensive carpeted floor.

The seconds turned into minutes and I slowly stood to leave her in this moment of privacy.

Mother heard me stand, and her eyes opened with a questioning look, stealing down to my iron-hard dick. Her brow furled as she asked shyly, "Was I that terrible?"

A flood of memories hit me, my father telling mother through the thin walls of our home how ugly and how useless a fuck she was. I felt like crying - what had I done?

Mother again took the initiative and slide off the chest using her quivering and tired limbs. She knelt before me, staring up past my cock to my eyes. I nodded for her to stop that she did not need to do this - yet a selfish teenage part of me wanted this more than any other action we have yet done this evening.

My father's wife, my mother, closed her eyes, opened her mouth and took my dripping wet hard cock past her lips. I've heard my father's debasing comments about my mothers oral ability - but I immediately knew every word that he had uttered was false within seconds of our joining. Mother was totally unselfish when it came or technique - using her lips, tongue, the motion of her head and the sucking of her lips. I knew she was trying to get me off, trying to give me an ounce of pleasure that I've given her. Did she really think everything we had done prior to this moment was repulsive to me?

Within a minute I was gasping out and lost all my worries about taking advantage of my own parent as I felt my climax fast approaching. Mother must have felt it as well, as both her hands grasped my bare ass firmly and she began to fuck her own face rapidly and almost violently. In her actions I translated her need for me to finish, to swallow my load, perhaps even to prove to herself that at least this way she could pleasure me.

An animal groan escaped my lips at the very second that my dick jerked, shooting that first shot of sperm deep down mothers throat. She began to swallow loudly, never breaking the seal of her lips on my shaft as I continued to pump a huge, and very delightful, load down into her stomach.

A wave of dizziness took me and I felt myself falling, mothers hands helping me down to the carpet. And far away, I felt a tugging of my slacks, fumbling about my crotch even as darkness descended and I fell into a short sleep.

When I awoke, mother was seated crossed legged next to me - dressed in the clothing that I had picked her up in earlier in the evening. I looked down to see that she had pulled my slacks back up. She was going through another catalogue of antiques.

I saw when she noticed that I had woken and she turned to me and smiled gently. It was a forced smile and it reminded me of all the outstanding questions I had earlier.