Chapter 11: Chicago, That Wonderful Town

Dear Diary,

Words can't describe it!

I'm sitting at my dining room table thinking back over a weekend that is surely the high point of my life. Three days of sheer and absolute joy. Days of total expression of love. Days of sexual enjoyment and satisfaction whose tingle still rings through my body at this moment. And yet I cannot wait for the moment Charlie comes home and I can give him my body once more and feel the joy of his heat inside my body.

I have just waxed this beautiful table and I see my own reflection in its beautiful surface. We bought it just after we married and it served the purpose of reminding me of the meaning of my dual relationship with Charlie. Last week I came across the missing leaf of the table which has been missing for years. It was buried under boxes stored in the attic, for some forgotten reason. As I dropped it with a familiar clunk into the gap, it occurred to me that the table with the missing leaf was like our life since David was killed in Viet Nam. Beautiful in many ways, but always something missing. Placing the leaf back into its opening completed it in a way that was symbolically the same as inserting Charlie's prick at long last into my body. Somehow it would, I thought, reunite us and complete our happy family once again. The weekend proved the simile correct-- for both of us, I think. It was like David's hand guiding us together, his hand encouraging our enjoyment. For me it was David's hand guiding Charlie's lovely prick.

Of course, most people would still say it is wrong, what we have been building up to for the past few years, but I am past that worry now. It is all too wonderful to leave out of life. It completes it, and restores some of the happiness we could have had if David had lived. Perhaps it could make up for something we lost. The lost happiness.

We were both transported with the first sight of his glorious prick just touching my swollen, pursed pussy lips, his glans just grazing the curls barely hiding my slit. We stared, heads against each other, down between his hairy chest and my smooth breasts and pointed nipples to watch as I guided it along my slit. Slowly, teasingly, I led his blunt, red cock head along my sensitive slit until the lips parted and opened to my moisture. His cock glistened immediately with my juices and his own. It looked incredibly sensual, toying there, delving into my soft folds, seeking my warmth. I'm shuddering with remembered pleasure even now.

Slowly he pressed forward; I remember how he shivered with anticipation. The big head pushed halfway in, pushing my pussy lips into deep furrows all around its mushroom shape. And then, suddenly, it popped inside as my muscle snapped around it, embracing it, hugging it, tasting it, readying it to be swallowed. We both gasped at the excruciating pleasure, I remember that. suddenly, I wasn't breathing and neither was he. We had talked about it, even sampled it; this was different, we were really going to fuck this time. This time was ... real. This time we would complete all the love play. This time he would race in and out of me. This time I would take his lovely prong, eagerly feel him feeling me up inside. He looked up and kissed the top of my head, nuzzled my hair. I couldn't take my eyes off his cock, though, as it began to violate my wet spaces. It looked so lovely, my heart was just brimming, beating hard, beating faster. I took a deep breath and I pushed against the lovely big prick and slid over it another inch. It looked so erotic like that, half swallowed by my pussy. I was lubricating wildly. He slipped in further and I saw that his hard body was firmly mashing my curly pubic hair and it was in all the way. I took a deep breath and lurched up to taste his lips. Our tongues joined. I felt him move again, as if trying to get deeper in spite of the fact that our pubic areas were flat against each other and his balls now were quite evident lolling full and ripe against my bottom. Yet I felt him edge deeper, perhaps another inch even after he sank in to the hilt. Eagerly he squirmed and pressed, probing deep inside me.

It was delicious. And then he began to fuck me. Serious and slow deep thrusts, loving thrusts. I felt my vagina probed, explored, parted, filled ... Suddenly it felt right to whisper in his ear, the word "Cunt" though I have always banned the use of that word. In this intimacy, it suddenly was perfectly alright, perfect love talk, perfect punctuation between true lovers. It even felt good in my mouth when I said the word. The way the tongue moves to form the word is like a prick flicking into my mouth.

Each deep stroke, I gasped in his ear: "my cunt ... cunt ... take my cunt! ... fuck my cunt! It's your cunt!..." again and again his stoking, striding, all-filling cock pushed the word out of my lungs as I clung to his pumping form. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pushed a wet tongue into his ear along with my breathy encouragement.

"Fuck me! fuck my cunt, Charlie ... you are so good in my cunt!" I was in ecstasy. Even now I am lingering in the afterglow of our loving.

Dear diary, I hope you aren't scandalized or offended by my language! Good grief, what has come over me?

Ellen. Monday, November 5, 1973

Present:

"My god," I thought, this was the most erotic thing I had ever read. And it was my sainted mother talking about the weekend in Chicago, planned and executed to consummate our chosen status as lovers in addition to our loving relationship as mother and son. It was a decision not taken lightly. We had played together in sexual ways for months, perhaps even years. It all built slowly up to each of us making our decision. And then, the exquisite pleasure of consummation high above the early winter dusting of snow elegantly frosting Chicago's lively streets...

My cock was semi-erect and I rubbed gently over the shaft and head through the leg of my trousers and thought about the weekend she had captured on this page of the diary. Chicago.

I looked out the window, then peered up and down the street.

My wife would be coming to pick me up soon, I thought. Leaning against the window casement, I thought of that time, staring down from the 40-something floor of that Chicago skyscraper and thought how beautiful it was, the whole thing, I mean, Chicago, our secluded weekend together and the thrill that I would at last experience in my lover's arms ... But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Chicago, 1973:

I stood, awestruck by the big buildings and distracted by the traffic noise of Michigan Avenue at rush hour. It's a beautiful city even with the first snowfall of the winter coming a little early.

"Growllllllllll!" She said, poking me in the ribs as she appeared from behind one of the famous lions guarding the Art Museum. I jumped and she laughed and then reached to hug me. I kissed her a mother-type kiss on the cheek and hugged her in the appropriate, standoffish way of 17-year-old sons.

"I want to see the Picasso Retrospective. You see a different artist when they do a complete retrospective. Is that OK?" She began.

"Yes, sure!" I agreed, and we more or less skipped up the broad staircase and pushed through the big brass and glass doors into the lobby with its cool grand staircase and marble walls. I checked our coats and admired her trim, tailored silk dress draped over soft curves.

She leaned close. "Are my nipples too visible in this dress?"

"Just nicely visible, I think." I said, grinning broadly.

She poked me gently in the ribs. "You're terrible!"

We began walking through the retrospective exhibit and stopped before one of those beautiful pictures done before Picasso's cubist works began. It pictured a mother with a nursing child and is called, as I recall, "Maternity."

"Have you been thinking about it... ?" She asked.

"Yes." I felt her lean close to me, our bodies sharing warmth.

"And ... you have thought carefully, long range, not just about the momentary pleasure?"

"Yes." I said quietly. "You, too?"

"Yes." She replied. "Yes ... oh dear, yes. It's still scary."

"Yes, I know." She took my hand and led me along the display. We stood for a moment, holding hands and letting our bodies touch - I counted the points of contact in my mind. Thigh, hip, her left breast against my bicep, our five fingers, my knuckles against her firm thigh. The silk dress was wonderfully distracting.

"I don't want you to take it lightly, Charlie. We could risk everything by going to bed together."

"I know." We were standing before a picture called Mother and Child.

"And... ?" She asked finally.

"Yes, my answer is ... yes, Mom. Definitely and firmly, yes."

She squeezed my hand more tightly. We moved on and idly admired the works. Finally, we stood before the work titled "Lovers"

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She said.

"Yes, I like this one."

We wandered into another room where the paintings were more modern, more extreme.

"These are more conflicting, for me," she muttered idly.

"You haven't told me what you have thought about ... what you decided." I said it with anxiety in my voice.

She looked at me and smiled. She said nothing, just nodded her head.

"Here's what I think, Charlie. I have been watching you carefully through the past couple years to see if I could be sure that you weren't hurt by what we have already done together. And, I can find no evidence of harm. You seem to be growing up to be a wonderful person, sensible, intelligent, good grades in school. Everything I want you to have. You have good friendships and good relationships with girls, and I couldn't be happier with the way you handle yourself with others.

"When your father was killed, you were forced to make up for it in my life. Before that, we were a wonderful family, like a good solid table with three leaves, we were perfect together. When your dad was killed in Viet Nam, we went on, making it up to each other as much as we could. I'm not complaining, but I know that we both missed out on the love of a very good father and husband.

"Then as you reached puberty, innocent fondling became more serious. I began thinking that the two of us could make up for part of what we lost by taking the one final step of making love to each other. I don't know if it will make up for it, but since you want to try, I want to give you the rest of me. I can't help wanting that. Our life has been almost perfect, though always a little hollow for the missing part of us, your father."

I put my arm around her waist as we moved on through the wonderful museum. My hand draped very gently on her waist, just barely touching her hip, fondling the sleek fabric and the tempting softness of her body.

"My nipples have been hard like this all week, thinking about it," she whispered at last.

The thought of that shrilled through my body and my cock thickened. I glanced down to see that she was quite accurate. Two lovely thimbles jutted against the silk dress.

"Let's go to the Egyptian exhibit," she muttered quietly, still pretending interest in the painting before us. "I think we can find a quiet corner there." She bit her lip and grinned impishly.

She was right. We were almost alone amidst the antiquities and slipped behind a large stone display. She snuggled in my arms and our mouths searched clumsily in our eagerness, then mated smoothly with probing moist tongues. I felt her mound bump my thigh, then linger and tighten against it. The softness of her thighs and contrasting hard mound thrilled me. My hands slipped gratefully over the roundness of her buttocks and I moved the silk dress, sliding it against the fabric of panties and slip. It was deliciously erotic.

"I needed that!" She giggled as we parted and returned to the more populated part of the museum.

"How about going up the Hancock Building?" I suggested.

"Good Idea! Maybe we can have dinner up there?"

I could feel the huge tension of both our bodies. Seemingly coiled for what lay ahead, yet wanting to continue the tension a while longer before loosing it by joining our bodies for the first time.

She squeezed my hand in the crowded elevator as we gained speed and the whoosh of the air pushed out of the way sounded in our ears for the 100-floor ride to the top of the Hancock Building. We stepped out to the spectacular view of the sun setting over Chicago, the last rays tracing through the western suburbs.

"I think this wasn't built yet when Dad brought me here..." I said quietly, reflecting on that long-ago time. The tall building then was the Prudential, where he took me for lunch.

She nodded her head and I could see the faraway look in her eyes as she missed Dad for a moment. Then high above the streets, full of bustling people the size of ants and tail lights of cars racing toward the suburbs, she slipped an arm around me, squeezing me close,.

Our light-hearted mood returned as we strolled around the observation deck, then inquired about a table in the restaurant.

We were seated at the windows next to an attractive woman eating alone. The tables were rather close together and my mother and the woman exchanged brief comments. The woman's skirt was slit up the side and showed black stocking tops, a sight attractive to my eye. She crossed her legs, tucking them alongside the chair and gave me an extra look.

"She has pretty legs," my mother said quietly, a smile on her lips. She tucked the words into a sentence about something entirely different.

I nodded sheepishly and brought my eyes back to hers.

The lady got up and asked where the ladies' room was and Mom said in a more normal voice:. "She's eavesdropping. Shall we drive her little crazy?"

"How?"

"We could drop funny things into the conversation. Maybe some sexy things?" She loved doing things like that in crowded elevators and I knew immediately what she was planning. I was not as good at it as she was and tended to drop out of her games early, for want of new ideas. But Mom could be slightly outrageous at times.

When the lady returned she smiled at Mom again and tucked her long legs back into their place.

"I think I've been stood up!" She said. "Darned airlines!"

"Oh, too bad. Frustrating, isn't it?" Mom said, sympathetically.

The waiter arrived.

"I have to have one Martini, for an old friend who can't be here!" She said, referring to my dad.

We toasted, her Martini and my Coke and she began her game.

"Do my nipples show in this dress?" She said leaning forward. I noticed the lady's eyes blink as she resisted the temptation to look.

"Yes, but they look nice." I said.

She continued talking about the Picasso exhibit, then inserted a few words quietly.

"I've been wet, all week thinking about tonight ... you know."

I nodded and she grimaced, urging me to be more creative.

Further along in the conversation, she tried again. The lady was clearly leaning closer to hear better.

"What are you thinking about right now, Charlie?"

"Taking out your breasts and sucking your nipples," I murmured and then continued talking about how the outer drive was packed with cars below us. The lady tensed and then seemed to be poised to hear more, staring out in the other direction, but inclining her head toward our table. She wasn't quite sure if she heard correctly.

"I could go back to that exhibit again, it was so good! ... Does it make you hard, thinking about my nipples? I especially liked the portraits before cubism." my mother went on. I could see the lady's nylon-clad legs tighten into a curl beside her chair. Her salad came but she continued sipping silently on her drink.

"Yes! Of Course, they always make me hard. Are they tingling? I think the waiter is Spanish, what do you think?"

"Ohhhhh, you're making me wet, just thinking about it ... Did you leave a light on in the house when you left it Charlie?

"Do you think the waiter would notice if I dived under the table and checked to see if your panties are wet?" I became more daring and Mom's eyes widened. She bit her lip, looking away.

"I could take them off and let you see. Do you think there is rain in those clouds?"

"I can wait, but I might tear them off if we wait too long ... I don't think so, the forecast didn't mention rain."

"I'm looking forward to it." She giggled.

"The rain?"

"No, you tearing them off me."

It was dark outside and the streetlights looked like diamonds on black velvet streaking off in all directions, like we were in the center of the universe.

"Look at the streetlights twinkling like stars!" She said. "Has pretty breasts, too." She snuck the last into the conversation and my eyes darted to the next table and the inviting pushed-up globes. The woman had unbuttoned a couple of buttons, I noticed, and her blouse gapped nicely. It looked rich and expensive. "City girls always look like that," I thought.

I nodded at my mother and smiled.

"Yes, very pretty. Makes me wish I could see yours better ... What do you want to do tomorrow?"

Mom looked around her before unbuttoning a couple buttons and looking down to her own bosom. She unbuttoned another and tugged at the dress collar. I could see the cleavage now, and a little lace peeking into the valley of loveliness. She looked into my eyes for approval and I made an admiring and appreciative face at her.

We had tired of our game and the talk became entirely about sexual desires. The waiter served our dinners. As he finished serving mine, Mom put her foot up between my legs on the seat. I put my hand under the tablecloth and grasped her toes, all tidy and covered in nylon. As he offered ground pepper I toyed with the stocking seam under her toes and ran the other hand along her smooth calf. I scooted forward on the chair and pressed my cock into the arch of her foot. She fondled my cock with the bottom of her foot and smiled across at me, her lipstick red-gleaming under the subdued recessed lighting that spotlighted her.

"Bon appétit!" She said. "For now and for later!"

"Yes, I intend to eat you later, you know."

"I'm going to insist on it! And this is a preview of my plans for eating you, too." She speared a large round, brown mushroom, kissed it with brilliant red lips and then balanced it against her tongue, pink and extended. The mushroom gleamed; her tongue looked moist and delicious. Slowly, very slowly, she pressed the mushroom like a large cockhead against her lips, then let it slip inside ... My own cock tingled with the thought of how it would feel if she were doing that to me. Her foot snuggled my cock, her toes searching for the head.

I crossed my eyes at her and she giggled. Our companion looked at us searchingly and then caught the implication of the mushroom sucked in and out of Mom's mouth repeatedly as we stared lovingly into each other's eyes.

"You'll drive me crazy, you know!" I said, quietly groaning with pleasure.

"I know ... that's my intention!" She said in a whisper.

I picked up a small strand of linguine and sucked it ceremoniously into my mouth, then left a little sticking out. "And what do you think if I suck on your little linguine, like this, Madame?"

Her shudder was almost visible. "You will drive me crazy, then." She admitted. She pursed her lips and looked almost cross-eyed as I sucked the rest of the linguine slowly into my mouth then licked my lips and looked lustfully at her. Her pursed lips morphed into a smile and we sat leaning forward toward each other with our thoughts.

She took a deep breath and went back to her food.

"When you have finished my linguine, dear... ?" She giggled, "do you suppose I will be nearly wet enough for you to... " She paused.

"Put it in?" I whispered.

She nodded, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes melting my own.

"Yes ... yes, you will be..." I couldn't quite finish it.

"I think that is the sexiest thing I will ever hear, you know, that phrase, 'can I put it in?'"

I slowly fondled her foot again, loving the way she pressed it over my swollen cock.

"Will you put it in for me?" I asked, intending to be even sexier.

"I will ... yes, I will ... I will guide you, caress my pussy with it ... then let you push it deep into my..." she paused and took a deep breath.

"Into your vagina?"

"Oh, yes ... yes ... please." She said quietly.

"Is everything all right?" the waiter interrupted. We didn't take our eyes off each other.

"Oh, yes ... yes ... thank you." She almost repeated herself.

Then our neighbor turned the tables on our teasing, sex-play conversation. She realized we were having our fun with her, I guess. She returned from another trip to the ladies room and, making a little show of it for our convenience, she un-balled a pair of delicately laced black panties and stuffed them slowly into her handbag. She paid her check, and with a show of her long black nylon legs in my direction, stood up and leaned close to Mom.

"I've enjoyed dinner. This is such a pretty necklace!" I watched as her fingers grazed Mom's cleavage as she retrieved the necklace and examined it. "I hope you both have a lovely weekend!"

She bid us goodnight and a happy weekend and left in a cloud of a very fetching perfume, high heels and the wisp of nylon.

Mom smiled engagingly up at her. Perhaps exchanging some knowing girl-talk notion with a look or an expression. But at least they were both smiling. Clearly there had been communication not totally available to me.

It was a little embarrassing that Mom reached into her purse and slid her credit card across to me. I summoned the waiter, who appeared quickly with the bill. I calculated the tip with a frown at how big it was, and thanked him. He paused to flirt with Mom and thanked both of us.

I looked at Mom carefully; one last enquiring look to be sure she was OK with our decision.

"Ellen ... let's go to bed," I said in as if my voice was cracking.

She smiled across at me and nodded, then pushed her chair back into the hands of the waiter. We found our way onto the elevator and I felt a little weak in the knees waiting for the 100-floor drop. At the end of that stomach teasing drop I knew that I would be close to exploring the warmth of her vagina. What would life be like after that, I wondered.

Strange as it seems, we were the only two people on that elevator. The door closed and we looked at each other, startled to be alone. We clung to each other, pressing our bodies solidly against each other, holding tight.

The elevator started its whooshing decent, shoving air out of its way, hurtling downward.

"Oh my god, Charlie ... here we go, my darling!" the phrase had more meaning than just the elevator ride. Down and down we seemed to be in free fall, clinging to each other happily, but with tension to spare. As the elevator braked near the bottom, I had the sensation of pressing down into my shoes.

'Oh, hold me, please!" Mom murmured, still clinging to me.

Snow was falling and all sounds in the street were muffled in that lovely soft way a city gets under a snowfall.

"Wow, that's a sensation, isn't it?" She said, a happy smile returning to her face as she looked up the side of the Hancock. Tiny snowflakes decorated her hair and I noticed that she was quite beautiful. She looked just like one of those "City Girls" I had thought our tablemate to be...

Our public naughtiness returned in the elevator up to our room for the night. Alone again after the 6th floor, we headed up to the 40-something floor in a much slower, but still modern elevator. I knelt down and raised her skirt, admiring the caramel-colored stockings that ended above mid-thigh and gave way to garter belt and then lace-trimmed panties. I pressed my lips against the soft cloth over her mound and felt the thatch of hair pushing against the panty. I nuzzled her mound and searched with my tongue for the telltale crease that would lead to her pussy.

"Ohhhhh ... ohhh, Charlie ... mmmmmmm! Thank you." I curled my hands around to cup her bottom and squeezed the warm flesh, pulling her against my kiss. "You're making me weak in the knees!"

I felt the elevator slow and she stiffened and pushed my head away. I let her skirt drop and struggled to my feet just as a couple got on with us. We zoomed upwards, her hand clutching mine and squeezing it in a teasing way.

We were there at last and went down the hallway laughing for having been almost caught. Mom handed me the key and I found the room at the end of the hallway. I took her in my arms at the door, and let my tongue slip into her mouth as my hands reached under her coat to cup both breasts and pull her mound against my bulging cock.

"Did you notice?" She asked.

"What?"

My underwear is special. I bought real silk ... for you! And you didn't even notice!" She chided me and pretended to pout.

I knelt before her again and raised her skirt after a quick look down the hall.

"Oh, dear ... not here ... not here!"

I pressed a renewed kiss against the real silk of the tap-style panty and fondled all around her hips, ending by squeezing her ass through the luxurious feeling silk. It was indeed special. I lingered with my hands cupping her bottom and my nose pressed in her cleft inhaling the sensuous scent of her and her perfume. I could feel the curly hair, so thin and frail was the silk covering her pretty parts.

"I didn't have time on the elevator," I grinned up at her.

She scanned the hallway with anxious eyes. Again she said her knees were weak and in fact, I could feel her trembling at my intimate touch in such a public place. So I picked her up, bumped the heavy door open, and carried her into the large suite. There. 40 floors below was all of Chicago, spread out before our corner room with windows in two directions. We watched as the beads of traffic streamed below us in the new-fallen snow.

"Wow!"

"You can put me down, now, Charlie." Mom said, planting a kiss on my cheek.

We took off our coats and she went into the bathroom, leaving me staring out at the scene, completely awestruck. I turned off the only remaining light and stood in darkness to enhance my enjoyment of the cityscape. I heard the water running and then the light from the bathroom lanced across the room and Mom rejoined me.

I sat on a small sofa and pulled her down next to me, this time fully against my body.

"Where were we?" She asked, holding her lips up for my kiss. We began a series of kisses and fondling.

"That was such fun talking dirty with you, Charlie. Do you know that? Are you really going to do all those things to me?"

"Every word was TRUE!" I promised. "Especially the linguine!"

"Ohmigod!' She giggled happily. "And I'm going to pull your foreskin back." She kissed me hard. "And lick your mushroom." Another kiss, her tongue lingering in my mouth. " ... until it is hard and moist and glistening!" Three kisses, on alternating cheeks. "And then ... pop the whole thing into my mouth! Oh, that's it, play with my tits a little, Charlie. Play with my boobs? I so love the way you treat them. Mmmmmph! You are soooooo good with them!"

I finished unbuttoning her dress and stripped it off her shoulders, leaving her to pose in the lacy silk slip barely hiding a matching bra. Her breasts bulged sexily from the French-cut bra. My hands glided over the silk and I felt a shiver of pleasure. My eyes were bulging in the same way as her breasts as I groped them eagerly through the silky bra. There was no padding, just my delicious mother's breasts filling the cups under my hands. The delicate shade of pink and the lace trimming the top of both garments made her look even more feminine; even more desirable. Everything about her was pristine, delicate as china, and yet softly full and curved and inviting.

"They're gorgeous" I gasped, pressing my lips to her cleavage as my hands grasped and fondled and squeezed them upward for my lips to tease and explore. One nipple popped over the top and I immediately devoured it with eager lips and teeth. I pushed the narrow straps of the slip and the bra off her shoulders and freed her breasts. Her nipples were crisp and firm and the delightful thing was that her areolas were swollen with excitement and formed soft-looking cones for the nipples to sit on. She shivered and her breasts shimmered before my eyes.

I took her right nipple in my mouth and then I felt her tender touch on the back of my neck, gently encouraging me to suckle.

"Ohhhhh!" She moaned. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the sensation of her nipple in my mouth. I just held it in the wetness between my lips, savoring ... all my senses concentrating on the hard/soft texture ... sensing the little 'flavor buds' ... rolling my head in tiny circles ... holding the succulent bud of her breast ... shuddering with the pure pleasure. I put my hand under her dress and fondled the nylon of her stocking just at the top where the snap spoiled the smooth line of her thigh.

She urged me to the other breast with a long, heartfelt sigh of pleasure, then resumed combing her fingers through the hair at the back of my head. "Oh, dear!" She said breathily. "Ohhhh, yes ... please..." The moisture of my mouth and tongue bathed her left nipple and I noticed her rolling her right nipple with her fingers. I gently nursed at the new breast, and explored the details with my tongue, taking deep breathes stirred with pleasure sensations which zipped though my whole body.