Mothercucer

Warning: This story contains incest. It's not the primary theme, which is why I didn't categorize the story that way. Nevertheless, it's in there, and yes, everyone's 18 or over. Also, this is my sixth story, and the first one I'm considering for a follow-on; so please let me know in the comments if you have any opinions. Enjoy!

"Happy birthday Jimmy! Or should I say Jim, since you're officially all grown up now."

That's how it started, with my mom celebrating my 18th birthday by setting a homemade cake in front of me at our kitchen table. As she bent down, I was treated to an impressive view of her generous cleavage. Of course I knew she was stacked, but she had always dressed so modestly around me, at least ever since I had been old enough to notice. Suddenly things seemed different. Her breasts hung tantalizing loose in her bra, displayed for me by her partly open blouse. They were clearly heavy, swaying against their cups provocatively with her every movement.

"Make a wish and blow out the candles, but don't tell me, or it won't come true."

I wasn't about to tell her. How could a guy tell his mom he wished he could play with her big boobs? Maybe some guys could, but not me. I had been shy all my life, and being this close to so much woman did not embolden me. Mom was a robust 5'8" tall, 40-year-old woman with long blonde hair and generous curves, maybe a bit thick around the middle, but carrying it well. I was a gangly 5'9", hiding a slender 5 1/2" in my pants. Consequently, I was not imbued with self-confidence, even in front of my mother. So, I blew out the candles and we set about enjoying my cake.

I swear, even the way mom was eating was provocative. The way she opened her mouth so wide to receive a big forkful of cake. The way she licked the frosting off her lips, the "hmmm"s and the smacking sounds that accompanied her enjoyment. When we had finished, her back was to me while cleaning our plates at the sink. I came up behind her, put my hands around her shoulders and gave her a hug. Not a particularly bold move, but it did give me the opportunity to press my little hard-on against her broad ass. I figured I could get away with it, given my unimpressive endowment.

"Thanks for the cake, Mom, it was delicious."

I risked a few more seconds of contact than what might seem normal, and wondered: was I delusional, or did she push back against me slightly, just as I pulled away? The remainder of the evening was relatively uneventful, but there was just enough incidental contact to keep me wondering while sitting together on the couch, watching TV. By the time I retired to my own room for the night, I had some memorable moments to replay while I jerked myself off, for the first time ever, to lustful thoughts of my own mother.

The next morning, mom made breakfast while still in her bathrobe. Something she had never worn in my presence, beyond a short dash between her bath and bed. It was full length and flannel -- nothing ostensibly sexy. But just watching her whisk eggs made me realize I had never seen her braless before, let alone in such a loose-fitting wrap. A lot of demands were being placed on the thin cloth belt that cinched her waist. The weight of her tits was apparent and impressive. Under that robe, they swung from side to side like juicy, ripe melons - begging to be held, stroked and sucked. When she set my plate in front of me, I got a brief but wondrous view of over half of one huge, hanging jug.

"We're due to get 2 more rooms filled this afternoon, any preference for where I put them?" she asked as she sat down across from me.

"Anywhere but #10 and 11 -- that's where I'll be spending my day. That connector door is going to take some time to repair."

It seemed like there was always something needing attention at Belle's Lodge, and since dad had died 3 years ago, it was my job to handle it. I was part-time while I was in school but became full-time now that I had graduated. Belle, AKA Mom, ran the office -- bookings, check ins/outs, all things administrative. I was the handyman, doing everything required to keep our little 16-unit lodge habitable, beyond the basic housekeeping that we contracted out. We lived in the converted cottage that capped off one end of the line of 16 motel rooms. In front was the office, then came the 1 bed, 1 bath residence where mom lived. A connector door led to my bedroom and bath. Technically I slept in room #1, but it had been upgraded over the years and it had been my room since I was 5 years old.

"Those guys really did a number on that door, didn't they? Sometimes I wonder if we wouldn't be better off discouraging excessive drinking."

"Hah! Talk about cutting into the bookings! Mom, if you ever figured out a way to pull that off, I doubt you'd ever see more than 20% occupancy."

"Yeah, I know. Not too many choir boys come up this far"

Our lodge was in the town of White Pine, in the far western upper peninsula of Michigan. It was favored by hunters in the fall, and hosted a hardy bunch of winter sports enthusiasts well into the spring. Summer is about the only time our customers aren't predominantly outgoing guys playing hard.

"Once I get the door jambs prepped, I'll be making a run into town for some hardware. Anything you need while I'm there?"

"Yes, could you please pick up some lube?"

"Some

what

?"

"Lube. Personal lubricant jelly. You can find it at the drugstore or the grocery."

"Oh. Uh, okay. Anything else?"

"No, that'll do it, for now. Thanks."

And just like that, my mother all but told me that she enjoys inserting things inside her. Leaving me to wonder two things: what, and where? What kind of things, in which of her holes? Every answer caused my dick to stiffen. When I reached the door I turned, in time to see her back at the sink - scrubbing away - her ass wiggling seductively as it counterbalanced the motion of her hands. I had an overwhelming desire to fuck her hard from behind. I'm not sure how, but I turned and walked out.

All day long I couldn't get thoughts of my own mother out of my mind. I was blown away by how easily she exploded my world with little more effort than a few suggestive words and a couple partial tit flashes. Talk about power!

By the time I got the 10/11 connector door fixed it was near quitting time -- too late to start something new. I squared away my tools and took the short walk home to see my new housemate, who I formerly knew as my mother. I realized I hadn't thought about her that way all day.

"Hi Mom, I'm here."

"Hey hon, I'm just finishing up out here." she called from the office.

As she crossed the office/living room threshold, I noticed she casually popped open two additional buttons on her blouse. One would have been perfectly explainable, two was blatant. I felt a tingle in my spine.

"You're looking special tonight. Is that a new outfit?"

"No, just something I don't wear much."

She had on a rather tight skirt with a zip that was opened a good 9" up from the bottom. It was not the kind of thing you were likely to see in a small Yooper town unless it was after sundown, and you were in a bar.

"I was hoping we could watch a movie tonight" she said. "That rom-com with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant is on tonight."

"Notting Hill?"

"That's it, Notting Hill. I love that movie!"

"Okay Mom, sure."

I went to my room to shower and exchange my jeans for sweatpants. When I came back to mom's side, dinner was ready and we ate as usual, sharing events of the day, observations concerning the current guests staying with us. It all seemed disappointingly mundane, making me question how much of my day's distractions were misguided imaginings. We spent the early evening reading; me on my trusty old Kindle, mom with her novel from the library. When movie time approached, I suggested:

"Hey, how about some popcorn with the movie?"

"Why not. We can make it a date!"

Aha! I knew I wasn't crazy! I was convinced mom had something in mind.

"In that case, is it ok if I have a beer?"

"Sure, just don't tell on me."

"I won't if you won't." I teased.

We got to the couch, and she kicked off her shoes before settling in. In the spirit of keeping up, I did the same.

"Mom, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, honey. What is it?"

"What's the lube for?"

"It's for... lonely nights, son. Sometimes Mommy gets lonely, that's all."

Damn, I thought. I was hoping for details, masturbatory fuel. Instead, I get a euphemistic dodge. But it was accompanied by a couple gentle strokes of my thigh. If not for the context of the day, it could have been interpreted as a comforting gesture. My penis knew better.

As the movie wore on, mom was surprisingly affected by the emotional scenes, considering she'd seen it a half-dozen times already. Her affectionate touches remained over-the-clothes and in innocuous locations; my forearm, thigh, bicep. I couldn't believe how such seemingly innocent gestures were sending electrical currents to my dick. Then the line came. You know the one:

"

I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.

"

Mom burst into tears and buried herself against my chest. I held her tight, my immediate thought being: how strange, to react so strongly to a scene you know is coming. I figured she'd cry it out for a few seconds and that would be that. After a full minute, I started to get worried.

"Mom, it's okay. I got you. Everything's gonna be okay. Don't cry."

"Oh Jim, sometimes I just can't... "

Her hands had been holding me tight, but now one began rubbing across my chest, my hip, and finally my crotch. She found my hardness and rubbed up and down rhythmically, stroking me through my sweats. Things had gone from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. I moved a hand to her breast and began my own stroking. I couldn't get under her formidable bra, and the massive cup prevented the contact I most craved. I raised my hips and pushed my sweatpants past my knees. In an instant she was straddling my lap, grabbing my face in both hands. She kissed me full on the mouth and pushed her tongue in before I had a chance to think. She was clearly hungry, and her passion flowed into me, igniting my own. I reached back with both hands and managed to undo the wide strip of hooks that freed her monster tits. I heard a zipper and saw her working at the waist button of her skirt, which she flung away. I buried my face between her boobs while I pushed my underpants down and hooked them under my balls. She pulled the crotch of her panties to the side with one hand while her other guided me to her entrance. Then she pleaded:

"Please Jim - please give it to me!"

I slid into her and briefly wondered if she had peed herself. I had no idea women could get so wet! I started moving in and out of her pussy and she leaned into me, her head over my shoulder. It was nearly suffocating between her massive boobs, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I pounded into her like the desperate, inexperienced virgin I was. When she leaned back, I grabbed one of her massive tits with both hands and sucked it, my mouth unable to cover her huge areola. It didn't take long for me to come like that, and it couldn't have done much for mom physically, but of course it was the best thing I'd ever felt. For mom, there was clearly a tremendous emotional release. We held each other while my cum ran out of my mother's pussy and soaked my balls.

After a few minutes she pulled herself back up and kissed me again, gently and tenderly. Then she spun around and swayed her gorgeous panty-clad ass into her bathroom, returning with a warm, damp washcloth which she used to tenderly clean my crotch.

She then reached out her hand, pulled me up and walked me into her bedroom. She sat on the bed, and I stood in front of her as she took my dick in her mouth and gave me the second blowjob of my life. It was only then that I realized how inept the first had been. My one-time high school girlfriend hadn't enjoyed it nearly as much as I had. Now I saw that giving could be pleasurable as well, as mom was clearly savoring my dick. Meanwhile I was over the moon, watching those heavy boobs sway back and forth while my mother swallowed my meager length completely, with only a brief pause as it reached into her throat.

She got me rock hard in no time, then slid up to the middle of the bed on her back, her outstretched arms beckoning me in. For the first time, I saw my mother's intimidating pussy; the long shaved gash, such fat labia, topped by a wild, natural bush. I crawled on top of her as she spread her legs for me and told me:

"Last time was for you, this time is for me. What we did was a lust-fuck. This time we're going to have a slow fuck. You and I are going to work together. Our goal is to get me to the point where I can no longer speak. When that happens, it will be up to you to pay attention to me and figure out how to make me feel even better. Don't worry, once I'm speechless, it won't take much more. Just don't get scared, keep at it. I promise, you won't hurt me."

I entered her easily again, her pussy now wet from both of us. I began to slowly stroke my full length into her. Her pussy felt impossibly soft and slick. The taboo nature of it had me fearing I would come too soon again. She saw it all over my face.

"Go as slow as you need to, to keep yourself from getting carried away. It's ok to stop. You need to learn how it feels to get close, so you can sense that edge and stay clear of it as long as possible. OK, you ready? It's like go-carts; you push, I'll steer."

I started slow, like she said. I even think I could have safely maintained my pace if she hadn't grabbed my hand and showed me how she liked her tits to be handled. That made me stop in mid-stroke and pray that her body stopped moving for just... a few... seconds. I came dangerously close and was fairly certain my dick was weeping a stream of semen into her.

"I see you're already fighting a losing battle, son. At times like these, it's best to disengage for a bit, and use another part of your body. Let me show you how to use your hands on a woman."

She took me on a guided tour of the wonders of the vulva, with emphasis on how to treat each area. The wisdom of her approach became apparent as I slid down from my edge and mom climbed toward her own.

"That's good, Jim. A man needs to be able to please his woman, and your hands... yes, that's it, just like that... your hands will be valuable to you in supplementing what your penis can do."

I told myself she was simply in teaching mode and not being intentionally mean. Still, there was no denying that stung. The odd thing was, I also felt a twinge in my dick. Just enough to make me take note of what had caused it.

"Remember, talented fingers can assist in pussy eating just as much as they can help during fucking. Now why don't you practice by fucking your mother with your dick and your fingers right now. I'll help you as long as I can."

I slipped back into her and repositioned my hand over her clit, then tried to coordinate the in and out of my dick with the circling caress of my fingers. It was a lot like rubbing your belly while patting your head -- it took concentration. Mom's words let me know I was getting the hang of it, particularly when they started to fail her.

"Good man, Jim. Gooood maaan. Now, as I get close... oh yes... as I get close, you can be a little firmer with your fingers. Yes, like that. Gentle when you're right on it, but you can press harder along the sides. Uh huh, uh huh... just like that. Oh Jim! Yeeeesssss! Now just... I just... faster! Faster! Haarrder! Yeesss! Haaarrrrdr! Aaaaaahhh! AAAHHHH!"

I did it! And I felt proud. Still, I wondered: is that the way most men do it? I paid attention to her like she said, and I did more of what made her feel better. I just didn't think it was supposed to be my hand. And when I thought about how it

had been

my hand, I felt another twinge in my dick. I moved my hand out of the way and began to fuck furiously, slamming into my mom's pussy as hard as I could. I stormed over the edge and pumped every drop I had into her, then fell on her, completely spent.

"You did it, Jim! Congratulations, you're the man of the house now. You own my pussy. You're the one who makes my pussy feel good. And there's only one thing left to learn about making my pussy feel good. Are you ready to learn that, Jim?"

"Yes Mom, I want that! What more can I do?"

"Eat me, son. Eat the cum out of Mommy's pussy. Can you do that for me, son? Can you eat Mommy's sloppy pussy and clean me up?"

I was at a loss, not even able to imagine such a thing. I'd never even

tasted

pussy before, and now she wants my first time to be

her

pussy, when it's full of cum.

My

cum! I hadn't ever even tasted my own cum, and now she wanted me to eat my whole load - out of

her pussy

!

I don't know how long I would have laid there with my brain spinning, unable to find a gear. I didn't initiate my motion, I just followed mom's gentle push, down to where I knew she wanted me. Down past that downy muff and onto those plump lips, now slimy with my own semen. My face was covered in it before I started licking. Before I even registered the taste, her moans told me how much she liked it. If she liked it that much, it didn't even matter to me whether I was going to like the taste. I knew I was going to eat it, because it was what mom wanted, and she was loving it.

So, I ate my mom's cum-filled pussy, and the constant tingling I felt while I did it reinforced the association between me feeling good, and feeling that other thing. That thing I would later learn was some combination of shame and humiliation. But I also felt pride and satisfaction. I had no idea sex was so complicated.

That night was the first time in 13 years that i had slept in "the main house". It turned out being "man of the house" brought with it certain privileges, and I certainly enjoyed them. We either made love or fucked -- two very different things for mom -- every night. There was plenty of variety, other than the two rules mom established early on: it always started and ended with me eating her pussy. I had zero complaints.

From a strictly physical perspective, I preferred the starts. Mom's pussy may be large, but it tastes oh so sweet. Not as in sugary sweet, as in delectable. On the rare occasion when I use a dildo on her and don't cum in her pussy, I find it still acquires a stronger, more funky taste. No doubt the product of so much churned pussy juice. I guess I prefer to drink mine stirred, not shaken. And hold the cum, if it's all the same. But then, that's from a strictly physical perspective.

From an emotional perspective, the endings were by far the most thrilling. I read up on it - shame and humiliation. When I ate my own cum, I felt both, deeply. And I got off on that. The weirdest part is, I'm ashamed to admit it. Which turns me on more. Rinse and repeat. The fact that I was eating my cum out of my mother's pussy -- well, that added a layer, to be sure.

All in all, life was good. The first indication of a "disturbance in the force" came two months later, over dinner one evening. We had just had a party of 4 check in to 2 rooms for a week-long stay. They looked to be hikers, all guys in their 30s. Mom asked me:

"Did you see the 4 guys I put in #4 and 5 today?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing rockhounds or waterfall chasers." It was summer, and they looked prepared for hiking.

"I like the look of that tall one with the beard."

I glanced up at mom and her wistful look told me this was a new level of sharing for us.

"Uh, I would have put him at around 30 years old. You serious?"

"Jim, honey... you're 18."

"Yeah, but nobody knows about us. I assume people would see you together."