Copyright© 2001-2003

A linguist thought it a farce
That memory space was so sparse.
One day they increased it.
Said he as he seized it:
"At last! Enough core for the parse".

"I met someone else."

Her eyes immediately started to water as she stared at the flower as well as the vase between us.

I had picked this restaurant because I knew she loved it, good food, quiet and intimate, and for my sake, cheap. Though the place was dark, dim, and with the round tables well spaced, I looked around to ensure no one was paying us any attention. There wasn't.

I passed a napkin across the table and shoved it into her hand. More of a silent request at decency and discretion in this public place. She took it and held it palm up, now staring at the bright red cloth she was holding.

Another reason I told her this in public, hoping she would not make a 'scene'. It that not the cliché of all breakups?

She had to know this was coming - our home has been stressful and we had argued much more in the last year.

Yet, I did love her. Never doubt that!

She had always been the most important person in my life and to hurt her like this was painful, for the both of us. Yet I can not stop how I feel about Trish - a girl I met in my Advanced Economics class at University - I can not stop the path of growing up and getting older.

I was trying to be honest - to pretend otherwise, to love two women was being dishonest to both. And since I had to chose, I had come to the decision that I wanted to be with Trish. It was the only logical path. It was the future that I had pictured when I closed my eyes.

The pain I saw across the table, in my mother's eyes, crushed my heart and I felt lower than dirt. I knew this was not going to be easy, but I never conceived how painful it was to see the pain on my parents face. To feel the pain within my own heart.

After a very long pause and then a fateful deep breath, mother spoke up, "What is her name?" Her voice cracked with emotion.

I didn't want to tell her my girlfriend's name - feeling this was some type of betrayal, but then I realized that it could not hurt. Could it?

"Her name is Trish."

Mother simply nodded. Perhaps it was 'real' when a name was attached to this person that has come between us, to this moment. Did mother hate Trish whom she had never met?

Mom dried her eyes with the cloth napkin and then looked intently at me. "What was it - why is this happening?"

There was no answer... or many. I gave a very unsatisfactory response and shrugged.

"Is she pretty?"

It was my turn to stare down at the checker-patterned table-top before me. I knew my silence was answer enough.

"I suppose she is younger than I?" Still I could not find the strength to answer.

I heard a sob and looked up to find mom trying very hard to still the emotions starting to surface.

"Mom... ?"

Her watered blurred eyes looked into mine, "What is it James... what do you want me to say?"

Did she really want an answer to this question? "Nothing mom... there is nothing to say." I wanted to say that I was sorry, but of course I didn't.

"I think we should go now." I couldn't agree with her more and caught the attention of the waiter, anxious for a closure for this evening.

Mom and I became lovers when I was fourteen. Dad had left us nearly a year before that and the emotions of that abandonment still echoed through us.

It was actually rather anti-climatic in that we were two lonely people that naturally sought each other out for friendship and understanding when, completely unintended, we became lovers.

At the time I thought I was the luckiest guy alive. How many other guys have regular sex at that age - well some, but not nearly as many as some may think. I did though... under mother's terms of course.

She would come to my room three times a week, on average, and lay naked with me beneath the covers, stroking me to hardness, kissing passionately. I always slept naked after we became lovers. Then she would either straddle my lap or pull me above her and we would 'make love'. That is what she called it, what she demanded I call it - it was 'crude' otherwise. It always started out slow and smooth - and speed up as the minutes past. Only infrequently did it get so wild that our bodies slap and those liquid sounds emulated from between our joined bodies. Though, each time it reached such heights of passion, I found a renewed thrill.

When it was over, mother liked for me to lay with her, my soft penis still within her body, our lips seeking each other. It was that time that I often was allowed to enjoy her breasts and nipples freely - taking time to savour the taste and feel of them while mother lay in her glow of bliss.

The next morning it was like nothing had happened the night before, I was again the teenage son with the stern mother. Sexual contact or any physical advances were forbidden - our roles had been defined long before we became lovers, and they stayed that way. Mother ensured it.

Mom ignored me throughout the lengthy ride home, looking out the rained blurred window of her car as I drove.

When we entered the house, she quickly stripped off her jacket and strode down the hallway to the kitchen. Anxious, I'm sure, to be away from me.

Perhaps I should stay at Trish's tonight? We had never spent the whole night together, but she would not deny me could she?

Then I heard mother's stomping feet as she stroke down another hallway to her bedroom before slamming the door.

As you can tell, it was a little tense in our home.

Sighing, I took my jacket off and went to my own room.

"James?"

I was drawn out of my slumber to look up at the shadow over my bed, it was mother of course. "Mom?" I rubbed my tired eyes.

The tension in the room was high already I noticed, and I knew immediately that she had not come here to 'make love', as was our customary way. It was with a relief that I need not to confront my pleasure of intimacy with my mother at this moment.

I heard a sob and realized she was crying quite heavily.

"You can't leave me baby."

Slowly I sat up, leaving my blanket covering my lap - I was naked, as some things are ingrained into us through time.

The strange thing about her last statement was that it wasn't a question - she simply told me this. Did she think me a child, a teenager still?

"Mom... ?"

She interrupted gently, "Let me finish please."

I didn't know she hadn't and felt my anger rising - she treating me yet again as a child. Did not my announcement tell her that her child was not a man?

Mom leaned down and felt in the darkness of my room for the edge of my bed, finding me closer to the centre, she slowly sat down.

"I had always known you will meet someone else someday baby." I felt her cool hand find mine in the darkness and she held me in a tight grip. "I knew that a mother and son... well, could not live forever as we had been doing."

I wanted to tell her that I was no longer a boy, but a man and living in her home under her strict rules was no longer what I wanted. The words did not come out - she will always be my mother and I had no desire to hurt her more than I already had done that evening.

"You are my son... you will always be my son. I had ignored what the future must hold for me - that you will leave me alone." She let go of my hand. "I knew you would meet someone else... a girl half my age." Again with the 'age' - perhaps that is a sore topic with mother?

Mom stood again and I felt, rather than saw her in this darkened room, her tears and pain.

"If there is anything I can do James... and I mean anything!" She said that last word with so much passion that I doubted her not. "There is no one else for me James, and I can not bear to be alone."

"Mom... ?" I was about to tell her that I would visit after I left home and still be a son to her, a close platonic relationship, and that she would meet someone else.

She interrupted again, impassioned to get her point across, "I know things can not stay the same in our home, that your turning into a man... but I am still a woman and I know I can make you happy."

Oh god, she was here to prostitute herself to me - for me to change my mind about Trish. In my wildest thoughts I never imagined she would 'lower' herself this way, act totally out of character. Again the spectre of my own passions began to form within me.

In the last three months mom hasn't come to my room and so we had not had sex in that time. The months before that, our nighttime sexual escapades were simply a physical release for the both of us while our days became more strained. Did mother simply think all that could be forgotten?

I saw her shadow lower and realized that she was getting on her knees beside my bed. What the hell?

"Baby... give me a chance okay... I'll do anything... please?"

Mother was begging for me not to leave her? Oh god, why did she have to go and make this so god damned difficult?

Strange that anger should come to me at that moment rather than empathy or pity, the state of our relationship I suppose.

I opened my mouth to tell her to get the hell out of my room but the words never came. Instead, a thick tension had filled my bedroom and I could hear mother's heavy breathing and could almost feel the ripples of the air as she trembled with emotion.

What the hell does she want from me any ways? To live like a boy with his mom for the rest of my fucking life? Hell, I get my degree in a few months and will probably start a job right after that. Am I supposed to live at home like her little boy forever?

I threw off the covers from my body and rolled so that I was now sitting up on the edge of my bed directly facing mother. I had thought to escape from this situation - maybe to go to the basement and work out or to the kitchen for something to drink, anything to escape the impossible situation that mother had put me in.

Then I felt her old small hand fumble between my strong thighs and I froze for just a second. Long enough for her hands to find my soft member hanging down past my balls aiming to the hardwood floor below. Expertly, with much experience I may add, she squeezed and stroked me.

What the hell was she doing - did she think rolling me on top of her for a tumble will change my mind about Trish? Hell, Trish was a better lover than mom easily. And embarrassing as it is to admit, sex was one of the prime motives for choosing my girlfriend over my mother. Dammit, I had never heard a woman scream until I bedded Trish and I had been mother's lover for years before I met her.

Then mom crawled on the hardwood floor toward me and leaned in. I felt her warm wet tongue lick my circumcised penis head.

I was stunned - we had been lovers for nearly seven years and never once had she done this! In retrospect, I should have stopped it right there and then. To disintigrate this attempt on her part to seduce me with an action that would have been unthinkable only the day before.

Her warm lips took my soft cock to the root and suckled me.

I groaned with the virgin pleasure of it and my cock quickly hardened within mother's sucking mouth. I knew I would not stop this - that the years of bedding my own mother had only brought out more suggestive fantasies that I had never dwelled upon. Yet by my weakness I was confusing and harming my mother even further than I had ever planned to.

Her head bobbed before me, my cock, now rock hard, moving in and out of her wonderful mouth. Though I may look back and realize that she was as awkward and inexperienced as I was at that moment, it still felt exquisite.

Only yesterday I had sex with Trish - so I was able to enjoy this momentous occasion for a long time than you may think. Minutes meant nothing in the darkness but it must have been fifteen or twenty minutes before I felt the familiar tightening of my balls and the tension deep in my gut. Did mother realize what was about to happen, should I warn her? I could sense, rather than see, her weary movements and sore jaw and tongue, but could also feel her resolve to keep sucking upon me till I finished.

I began to orgasm into her mouth, mother had stopped bobbing her face and only held the sensitive head of my prick between her lips, she swallowed every drop of my essence loudly.

Mom always knew when I was about to orgasm. Perhaps it was the sounds I made, or maybe my dick got larger or something. But before today, when she rode me, she always controlled when I orgasmed by her movements and hidden inner muscles. We had often came together, in the darkness. So this gift from her to I was more than just the use of her mouth - but the giving of pleasure without receiving the same.

She sat back and I could hear her licking her lips. Did a drop of my sperm cling to her lips or chin? The thought of it excited me rather violently, to my surprise.

"Get out mom."

I'm not sure what she may have thought she was going to accomplish by sucking me off - and I certainly enjoyed it - but I had not changed my mind about Trish. It was a decision I had made a month before and it could not lightly change. I only wish I could have said that before she sucked me off - it would be less confusing to the both of us if I had more resolve.

Mom crawled from the floor and I heard her sobs of grief as she half ran down the hallways to her room.

I slept in on purpose, so as to miss mother that next morning - it would be an awkward encounter, I imagined. Her schedule was always precise and mother was out the door and on her way to work at seven thirty each and every work day. Without fail.

Besides I had spares in my class schedule till one in the afternoon, so I missed nothing critical by sleeping in.

So it was a surprise when I came down the stairs to find her in a robe and bare feet in the kitchen at nine in the morning.

Her head turned and she smiled brightly, "Hello James. Bacon and eggs or pancakes?"

I must have stood there with my mouth open, caught unprepared by her appearance. Thankfully I had slipped on an old pair of running shorts before descending. Again, old habits... mother never condoned nudity around our home.

Slipping into a chair in the kitchen nook, I mumbled, "Pancakes." She turned back to the counter, where, I saw, she had all the ingredients for both orders laid out and prepared. I could not tell you the last time she had made me breakfast - not even to the year.

I just had to ask, "Why aren't you at work mom?"

With her back to me she shrugged and calmly explained, "I called in and told them that I quit."

What?

She turned her head and our eyes met, "You are more important than anything else in my life James!" I thought she was going to start to break out crying but the moment passed and that foreign glow returned to her face.

Though I was never privy to her financial situation, I knew we had never had any need or want for anything that money could buy. I suppose you could say mom and dad were upper middle class - with many assets and a large disposable income. Other than her driven and energetic character and the fact that mom had always 'worked', I suppose she did not have to if she did not want to.

"Oh, I wanted to get your opinion?" She extravagantly licked a drop of batter from the tip of her finger then pulled two single pages of paper from the counter and brought them to me. Slowly she laid each out, next to the other, before me.

I stared down at the torn out pages of a lingerie magazine. "Do you think I would look good in that... ?" She pointed at a young model wearing stockings, a garter and a teddy with heels - all black. "... Or that?" The other had a tall pretty young woman wearing white lace thong bikini and bra, the shade of her pubic hair and nipples easily seen, she also wore white thigh-high stockings.

It was shocking, and so out of character, that I simply sat there looking at each picture and back up to mother for a couple of minutes. Mother stood next to me, ignoring my surprise and waiting for an answer.

I had to give some response, and mumbled, "Both."

Her smiled widened, "Perfect. I'll get these while your at school today." She retrieved the pages and returned them back to the counter. "If you wish, I will model them for you tonight baby?" She did not wait for a response and continued with making me breakfast.

It had been a strange, alien even, morning. Mother rushing about preparing me breakfast, while not eating a thing herself. Then rushing about to clean up. At that time I had noticed her robe had loosened enough for me to see that she was naked beneath - she caught me looking and instead of the cold look I would have gotten the day before, smiled almost invitingly toward me. I rushed out of there and up to the bathroom for a shower - anxious to escape.

I thought she may have come in to the bathroom - I was ready for anything at that point. But she had let me soak for twenty minutes when I came out of the steaming room to find clean clothing laid out upon my bed for me.

This was getting fucking strange.

Mother had always stated she wanted me to be able to take care of myself - to the point that we each did our own laundry, usually ate separate meals and other than the housekeeper coming in twice a week, shared the chores about the house.

I dressed in what was laid out - why shouldn't I, it was exactly what I would wear anyway! Jeans, white socks and one of my favourite tee-shirts.

Hearing her in her own room, I tactically snuck out of my room, down the hall and stairs and quietly through the back door. It was still two hours till class, but I would rather be waiting in a lounge on campus than sitting in my home with the strange vibes that came from mom.

I knew, as I walked to school, that my weakness the night before had harmed my relationship with mother. Or at least the new adult relationship that I had voiced at supper yesterday.

I got home late.

"Hi baby!" Mom came rushing around the corner from the living room, wearing a loose skirt and blouse. She rushed right up to me and hugged me firmly - I never reciprocated and so she disengaged quickly.

She stood back a meter and smiled up toward me, "How was classes?"

"Fine." I guess.

"I'm glad your home?"

Why, so she can model lingerie designed for a woman and body half her age? I was rather sullen as you may tell.

I dropped my bag of books and jacket by the door and looked to see if mother would protest - she always disagreed with leaving my things by the front door. She did not even seem to notice.

Mom's mood could not be quelled, and she grabbed my hand and dragged me into the living room. I half expected to see lingerie laid out ready for a 'show'. But all I saw was a book, upon the couch and the fire roaring away.

Gently she pushed me down to the couch, moved the book and sat right next to me, with one ankle under her ass as she faced me.

"Is there anything you want to do tonight baby?"

What did she mean - like telling her I wanted only to be left alone?"

For the first time I looked into her eyes - they held a foreign perkiness and a hint of... fear perhaps.

I never said a word and mother purposely let her eyes move down to my lap before returning to stare at me. I never said a word, not sure what to say. Then both her hands reached out and she unbuckled and unzipped my jeans, yanking them down enough so that my soft member tasted the chill night air.

Mom bent at the waist and her mouth opened.

Just before my cock was engulfed, for a second time in less than twenty-four hours, I stopped her.

She sat back up, her face red. Was it embarrassment or shame - I could not tell? Her eyes though, looked from my soft exposed penis to my eyes, and back.

Then a single tear ran down her left cheek and her voice cracked as she lost her self control, the perkiness was gone, "Give me a chance James - I will do anything to make you happy!" What she meant, I knew, is that she would do anything to keep me in her life.

I had made my decision weeks before and only yesterday had I the nerve to tell her that decision. I understood that she was a desperate woman, feeling rejected most certainly, and fearful perhaps of being alone. Yet, I would never have guessed that desperation would drive her to this.

Mom slipped off the couch and onto her knees before me. "Remember what you told me years ago, that 'every guy thinks about fucking their mother' but you get to?" She deftly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it aside to reveal her naked chest beneath. "I know I have been selfish baby but that is going to change." With the blouse forgotten upon the thick carpet beside her, she unzipped the rear zipper and wiggled out of the skirt - it lay around her knees - she had not worn panties either.

"Give me a chance and I'll be the woman you need."

This time when she leaned forwards, I did not stop her.

The movie ended and I reached for the remote to shut it off - it had been a 'guy flick' and mother had again surprised me by sitting quietly through it.

Mother's head lay upon my shoulder and she wore only a soft smile - nothing else since she disrobed kneeling before me a couple of hours before. The half-eaten bowl of chips lay next to the empty can of pop next to my arm. She sat up and stretched, her head turning to me for a wide smile.

Mom stood up and reached for the bowl and can but I spoke up stopping her, "Leave those mom."

She immediately seemed to forget what she had been reaching for, "Of course baby." She stood there naked and patient before me.

It was like looking upon her for the first time - seeing her standing silently there as I stared openly at her nudity. I took in every inch of her body, seeing it in detail like I had not seen it in years. She had aged since our first night we had been intimate years before, but I had to agree there was a supple eroticism about a mature woman as attractive as my mother. "Turn slowly for me mom."

Given free reign, it felt natural to direct my desire towards her.

She whispered, "For you baby." I could almost feel the tension in the room rise, and her barely contained pleasure at this first action on my part for what she hopped and begged for would be a change in my position yesterday.

Mom turned slowly and paused with her back to me. I always enjoyed her ass, full and soft - a generous handful - but perfectly proportioned. She was like some Italian Renaissance woman in a painting.

Finally she was again facing me. Waiting.

The minutes slowly passed and the silence seemed to multiply the tension. Did she imagine that by losing her inhibitions about sexual contact outside our midnight encounters to be enough to change my mind?

Yet there was the dark brown curls between her legs. Naturally formed in an inverted triangle, and with a generous growth. I've never really looked at that part of her before - never been allowed to.

Nothing, seemed, to be forbidden any longer. In fact, I guessed mother's desperation could give me more power in our relationship than I ever thought possible. If, I reminded myself, I should take this offer of hers.

My hand slipped out and I heard mother's gasp as she held her breath. The hand, palm up, slipped between her soft smooth thighs and lifted upwards to cup her sex.

I've felt her with my hands many times, sometimes even using my fingers on her clitoris to bring her to conclusion. Rarely had I been allowed to do what I was about to do.

Something had changed between us - and I don't just mean the blow jobs. Mother and I had always been respectful of each others pleasure - my hard cock her wet pussy. Every midnight visit she would ensure I orgasmed and I had learnt, that if she did not orgasm at the same time as I, then I would use my fingers to manipulate her clitoris to complete the job. These visits were about pleasure after all.

Yet, now, we had changed.

The proof of that was that I did not check to see if mother's sex was wet before I slipped my middle finger deep into her.

She sighed and stiffened.

I was surprised to find that her sex was indeed wet, not as wet as she got when we had sex but definitely wet enough to take my finger.

I looked up at her, "Is this what you want mom - for me to use you?" My finger was now moving in and out of her roughly.

Her eyes came to mine and she smiled, "Oh yes baby... I can think of nothing else that I want more!"

What the hell did that mean?

I'm not sure why, but I was getting angry. "Pinch your nipples mom." I have never talked to her this way before! Treated her this way. Never seen her touch herself so commonly either.

It felt good!

Her hands immediately came up and cupped each of her 'B' cup breasts, each thumb and forefinger squeezing her dark brown nipples.

Mom's eyes never left my face - while I now looked up at her abused nibs.

This was a new woman - her desperation had changed her. I hate to admit it but it was exciting.

Her sex was getting wetter and I saw her nipples harden under the abuse. When I looked up to her face I saw that she wore a little smile... happiness.

Mother honestly thought this was the way to keeping me.

I had an idea and slipped my finger from her body and slowly brought it up to her chest. Mom watched as I coated the tip of each of her hard nipples, thrust as they were between her thumb and finger, with her juices. Then I ordered, "Feed me your tits mom." I had never called her breasts 'tits'... ever.

Her smile widened and she leaned over to bring me her breasts. First one, cupping only the underside to aim it perfectly, the hard damp nipple slipped between my lips. I tasted her and felt the wrinkled hardness of her excitement. It wasn't the first taste of her sex, as I had sampled it from my fingers in the past, but the first time with her present. And most certainly the first time tasting it directly from her person.

She watched me silently, her breathing rapid and harsh. Mom moaned as I sucked roughly on the nipple for a minute before teasing it with my tongue and lips for another minute. When I lifted my face from that teat she immediately shifted and brought me the other without being asked.

This time when I disengaged from her teat, she stood upright and waited patiently for my next request. It was not long in coming.

There is something I've always fantasied about with mom - something that I've never seen her do. "Your turn mom... !" Did she understand?

She looked at me blankly - I could see the desire within her to do what I asked but she had no comprehension for what that was. I felt a smile, perhaps nerves, as I added, "... get those nipples wet." Her smile turned sly and I saw the twinkle in her eye that she understood what I was asking.

One breast fell back to her chest as the hand slide down past her soft stomach and into the bush between her legs. Mom squatted lewdly before me and I watched the knuckles of her hand move between her thighs. A sigh of pleasure echoed through the room at the actions of her own hand. She did this for perhaps thirty seconds before slowly removing her hand.

Mother held up her hand with two very wet slimy fingers between us - evidence of her actions to my command. Then she brought those slimy fingers up to her chest. Holding up the generous soft teat in one hand she coated the hard dark brown nipple with the other.

Again holding both breasts up and forwards, mom leaned in and again fed me one at a time. For some reason they tasted better now that her juice had come from her own fingers.

As I sucked, licked and nibbled on mother's breasts my hand had returned between her legs. The middle two fingers began to frig her frantically.

Soon mother was moaning with pleasure and moving her hips up and down lewdly in time to my fucking fingers.

When I pulled back this time, I disengaged my mouth and my hand. I looked mom over and saw that her brow was wet with sweat and inside her thighs with pussy juice. Mom was still holding up her tits, perhaps to ready them for me to again coat with my slimy fingers - but I had other ideas.

This time as I lifted my soiled hand, I ignored her thrusting nipples and held it centimetres from her mouth. "It's good mom - taste."

I saw a spark of surprise in her eyes and a little of the mother I knew, perhaps this could be interpreted to be disgust. But it lasted a brief second before she leaned her head forwards, opened her lips, and took one of my fingers to the third knuckle and sucked fiercely. She sucked that for a brief moment then did the same to the other. Finally, seeing that I had not removed my fingers from before her face, she took both digits in her mouth and began to fellatio them as she had done with my cock twice in the last day.

She lay upon the low coffee table and had her eyes closed as she stroked the slit between her legs. "Squeeze your tits." She brought one hand up to squeeze her generous flesh globes.