Emma and Mom

CHAPTER 1: THE INTRODUCTION

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This story was imagined and assisted by a reader who really is named EMMA. Several events contained in this story are fantasies Emma imagines for herself. She fantasizes about descending into depravity. We both hope you will enjoy it because Emma has other fantasies, too.

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I couldn't believe what I was seeing!

Upon reflection, I realized there was a car parked on the street I didn't recognize, but so what? I had come home from work to strange sounds in the house coming from down the hallway where the bedrooms were located. I wanted to call out to mom, who didn't work outside the house, but the sounds froze any words in my throat. I softly, quietly, moved down the hallway. My heart was racing, my breathing coming in sharp, ragged breaths. I knew what it sound like. I just couldn't connect what it sounded like with my mom.

The walk down the hallway seemed like a mile rather than yards. When I arrived at mom's bedroom door, I found it not quite closed. With about a six-inch gap, I edged closer to spy ... yes, that's what it felt like, spying on my mom ... into the room and that's when I saw it. What I couldn't believe I was seeing ... my mom ... naked ... lying on her back on the bed and two men fucking her!

I wasn't shocked because I thought of her as a prim, reserved woman. She wasn't. I wasn't. We weren't particularly religious or constrained by false morality in that way. I wouldn't be surprised that mom had a lover. She went out some nights and came home late. Why not? She was attractive and she had a vibrant personality. But ... two men ... in our home ... in the late afternoon ... when she clearly forgot I would be coming home? How long had they been doing this that she forgot I would be home?

I want to leave the door. I did. And I would have. But the scene was mesmerizing. When I finally pulled myself away from the door, I nearly bumped into the wall as I tried to move quietly away. All I could see was what I had seen through that partially open door: my white middle-aged mom obviously enjoying being fucked by two very large black men with ... very large black cocks.

I retreated back outside to my car and left. I would pretend to come home late, instead. I didn't go far, though. I drove around the neighboring blocks so I could keep an eye on that car. It wasn't long before the two black men came out of my house, entered that car, and drove away.

Mom was in the shower when I re-entered the house. I walked closer to her bedroom and called out my greeting that I was home. She called out in response, maybe sounding a bit tired but with joyful energy. She told me to call the little restaurant nearby for a couple to-go salads.

We sat at the small table in the kitchen with our salads. She asked me about my day. Fine. I asked her, with considerable curiosity, about her day. She kept busy, she said. Yea, I'll say, I thought.

We're from Germany. We're by ourselves and have been since I was 11 years old. That was 18 years ago. I learned my father was abusive, though mom never wanted to talk about it. In the divorce and legal settlements, mom came out financially pretty well but there continued to be threats. We finally came to the US where there were relatives and were our means to immigrate. That was years ago and we've acclimated pretty well but the darkness that was our lives still hangs over both of us sometimes like a storm on the horizon waiting to wash over us, again.

I was no prude. At 29 years old and enjoying my own sex life with a short series of boyfriends I thought were serious enough about me. I always thought of myself as attractive: 5' 6" tall, 32-26-33 shape with natural D-cup breasts, 127 pounds maintained by stretching and running, long black hair, and green eyes. The part about not being a prude is evident by the 7 tattoos on my body: two snakes coiled around flower stems at angles over my stomach and lower chest; a small crown on the right side of my waist; a heart on the left side of my waist; a skull on my back; an Aztec script on my back; and a small flower with leaves above my left ankle. With all that on my body, I thought I was the wild one.

I didn't EXACTLY think of my mom as a prude but she WAS my mom. As a mom, she is quite attractive. She's 49 years old, 5' 4" tall, 135 pounds, and at 36-30-38 and DD-cup breast what I would call a curvy figure. Her hair, like mine, is black and long,, her eyes black, and, as I could now see, her pussy shaved. I suppose, given the abuse before I should have expected something different from her. She was just my mom, though. Seeing what I saw was so different, so unexpected.

"Are you okay, honey?" she asked from across the table. "You seem ... I don't know ... very distracted."

I looked up at her and gave a smile, "No, nothing. Just tired from work, I guess," I replied. What was I going to say? What was screaming in my head was, God, mom, those cocks were huge! How the hell could you take them so easily? That's what was in my head. That was the image playing behind my eyes ... over and over.

That night I continued to see my mom with those men in the dark as I tried to settle down for sleep. It wasn't working. How could I stop the visual? I began masturbating under the cover of the sheet. I didn't have any toys but I began wondering if mom did as my fingers stroked and probed outside and into my pussy. I stroked and thrust my pussy and clit. I fondled my breasts and pinched the nipples. I managed a small orgasm but it wasn't nearly sufficient.

I swung my legs out of bed and pulled up my pajama shorts to quietly tip-toe to the kitchen and went straight to the vegetable drawer of the refrigerator. I remembered buying a cucumber for salads we hadn't prepared. It was cold, of course, so I ran hot water over it and just as quietly returned to my bedroom and closed the door. This time I stripped off my pajama shorts, lay back on the bed, and spread my legs suddenly wishing I had used some oil on it but it was still wet.

I pressed one end to my pussy lips, felt them spread at the pressure, and slowly sink through my hole. The cucumber wasn't big, not real big, not real big like the cocks my mom had been fucking. Big enough, though. Big enough to be bigger than my boyfriend for sure.

I sighed as it opened my pussy and filled it more with every inch it was pressed in. I pulled it out some and pressed harder back in. Soon I was gasping and softly moaning at the fullness of the vegetable being stroked into me by my own hand. God, it felt so good but just as good was the mental image of those big black cocks fucking into my mom at both ends. It was a scene etched into my brain. It was an image driving my hand to fuck my pussy harder and faster.

When I orgasmed, I was sweating and spent. I slowly removed the cucumber and brought it to my mouth. Sure, I've sucked cock but not ones like I saw ravaging my mom before.

I might have questioned if that had been real. My mom? Two big black men? Two big black cocks and my mom? Then, three days later, the same car was parked on the street in front of our house. Was it really the same car? Or a car like it? Did it mean what I thought it meant? Or, was it just my tormented mind still envisioning those cocks and mom?

I entered the house quietly and heard the same sounds. Was this the only time since that day? Or, was this merely another day mom lost track of time?

I crept down the hallway, my athletic trainers providing a quieting cushion for each careful step. Mom's bedroom door was open further this time and my view was more expansive. It looked like the same men: big, black, with big cocks. If I thought about it, I might be ashamed that all I noticed of the men were those three things. It was just such a powerful image, though. They were moving my naked mom on the bed like she was a sex doll. From her back to her hands and knees. One cock pulled out of her pussy glistening with juices; flipped around and the other cock slammed into her gaping, drooling hole; her mouth capturing the wet, glistening cock that had been fucking her.

The groans, moans, and gasps escaping from her were muffled by the cock in her mouth but her DD breasts were swinging wildly amid the grunting of the men powerfully thrusting into both her pussy and mouth. My God, I thought as I watched from the side of the open door, she must be taking that cock down her throat. Where did my mom learn to take cock into her throat?

I was so riveted by the cocks pounding in and out of my mom's opposite holes, I didn't notice the guy feeding his cock into her mouth glance my way. I didn't notice until it was too late. I had been seen!

I retreated quickly. My mind was flooded as I ran to my car, started it clumsily, and drove off. I didn't even know where I was intending to go. Just go away. I was consumed with guilt at having spied on her ... again. The other thing crowding in was equally strong ... I was incredibly turned on by what I had seen. My mom. God ... my mom. My mom was having better sex than me.

I found myself at the apartment of my latest boyfriend. Latest being the operative word. A long string of men who had been remarkably unsatisfying. I rapped on his door. He had to be home, please. When the door opened, I had that look on my face. He knew that look. The look was that I needed to be fucked. That was my relationship. How simple is that? I almost raped him. Maybe I did. He climaxed. I orgasmed with the aggressive use of my own fingers on my clit as I bounced up and down on his cock. His cock was smaller than the cucumber cock.

I left conflicted, and unsatisfied. I drove away nervous and questioning. What if that guy mentioned to my mom that he saw me watching? What was mom going to say? Why should she say anything? It was her house, after all. I wasn't even paying rent.

When I opened the door, she came rushing to greet me. "Emma, Emma ... I'm so sorry you saw that. It must have been awful." She hugged me tightly, then took my hand to lead me into the living room. She had an open bottle of wine and two glasses waiting. "We need to talk, dear."

"No, mom. We don't. It was my fault. I shouldn't have spied on you. Yes ... yes ... no, you're right... we need to talk." She had poured the wine and I took a big gulp. "A few days ago I just heard voices and was curious, I'm sorry. This time, though ... this time I knew what was happening and I still wanted to see."

"No, dear. You shouldn't have to ... I shouldn't have been so careless ..." she argued back.

"Mom ... no." I took another gulp of wine. "Mom, this is your house. You deserve your own life that's not constrained by your daughter. It's about time you should be able to get on with your life."

She giggled and hugged me tightly. Then, "Dear, I've been doing this for a while now. I've just been more careful before."

"What do you mean by 'a while'?" I asked more curious than anything else.

"I've been meeting guys at clubs, dear. They usually take me to a hotel or their apartment."

"Your late nights," I responded with a nodding head. "But ... these were the same two guys, weren't they?"

She blushed. "They are my favorites. I think they also like the idea of a mature white woman with big breasts." She studied me carefully. I thought she was trying to determine just how well I was taking all of it. "The truth is I wanted to spend better time with them and not be rushed. I wanted to share my own bed with them. I guess I just lost track of time."

I giggled, too. "I can see why." This time I carefully studied her. "Can I ask a personal question?" She nodded. I thought she was relieved this 'talk' was going so well. "How did you learn ... I mean ... how do you take ..."

"Those big cocks?" she finished. I nodded. This was my mom. I was blown away. Hell, I was in awe. "It didn't just happen, I'll tell you that." She giggled and poured more wine. Maybe she was blown away that she was having such a conversation with her daughter. "The first time I encountered those two I thought they would tear me in half, but they were gentle. Then ... I just had to have more. Other men were okay but those big cocks were ... Emma ... you can't just imagine what it feels like. It has to be experienced."

We talked on and on. Along the way and sometime after opening the second bottle of wine, I wasn't talking to my mom any longer. I was talking to a confidant, a trusted confidant. She'd experienced so much. I know you're supposed to think your mom has experiences to share but not like this. The words just flowed from us. Some of it was the wine but more, I think, was a new connection forming between us. How did this happen? Shouldn't I be the one of us to be wild sexually? How is it my mom with a few more pounds on her slightly shorter body getting mind-numbing orgasms from two strong black bulls (her comment) with big cocks while I was numbed with unsatisfying sex time after time?

"You're frustrated, aren't you, dear?" What? Wait, she just shifted to probing about me. "I can tell. You know it is a funny thing about being fully consumed and satisfied by a man ..." a giggle "... or men. I'm with these men and I look at other women with their men and ... I'm not exactly sure what it is ... but I can see it. Envy? A dream-like look suddenly in their eyes?" After a pause during which she watched me intently, "I see it on you now. You're not satisfied, are you? Your sex life, I mean, it's disappointing, it's lacking, it's not what you want."

I laid in bed that night with my mind swirling. If I felt that way before that talk, and I did, I really felt that way now. She was directly comparing her sex life with numerous black men with mine with ... with unresponsive, unsatisfying, uninspired white boys ... I mean 'men'. Do I mean 'men'? My mom didn't. Without really saying it she only talked about the experience of these men and how they handled her, controlled her, and used her. In her mind, the experience was black. Did it have to be black? I don't think so but ... but black was there and in front of me.

The weekend was uneventful ... at home, anyway. Mom left in the evening and came back late. I knew what she was doing and when she returned I made a point of being up watching TV. How pathetic was that? My mom was out getting fucked and I was watching TV without even seeing what was on it. When she returned, she had an undeniable look. Not that she intended to deny anything. It was like a glow around her. A tired, exhausted glow, yes. Despite the tiredness was a sparkling in her eyes and a contented, satisfied smile that looked permanent. Her hair was mussed, her lipstick smeared, and I spotted something crusty in her hair. She hadn't just been fucked, she was ravaged, used. And she was happy, euphoric. Her two men (Jerome and Ty, she named them finally) introduced her to two friends. They went to Jerome's house.

She started for her bedroom down the hall. She looked like she needed that sleep. "Wait ... mom ... you mean four guys?" She turned with that smile still plastered on her face. She nodded. "Four guys ..." I muttered. "Were they all ...?" I couldn't finish the question. It was too much.

"Were they all big cocks? Is that what you want to know, Emma? You want to know if your mother has just been used and ravaged by four big black cocks?" She waited. She wanted me to admit it. After I nodded, she smiled bigger. "Yes, dear, I did."

"But mom ... alone ... four men and you were alone."

She smiled and turned. Over her shoulder, she responded. "Jerome and Ty are protective when there are more." God ... this has happened before. "Besides," she said as she was about to disappear into the bedroom, "I don't have to be alone."

Another night in bed masturbating with a mind that wouldn't let all this go. What did she mean, I don't have to be alone?

I was dense. I admit it. Not the first time, either. Sometimes things are in my face and I'm still like, 'what?' This was that. It finally penetrated, though. Mom was opening the door for me to follow. She wasn't going to pull me into that world. It had to be my desire, my interest, and my willingness. But, she was saying, 'Join me, daughter, and I won't be by myself. Join me and let yourself feel what it is like to be consumed'.

Okay, so before it was only the image of those big black cocks and my mature white mom. Now, those images were coated with the subtle invitation from mom to join her in all that. I couldn't focus on anything. I could barely focus on driving to work the next week. I found myself in a restroom stall frequently trying to relieve the pent-up arousal, desire, and need.

That Tuesday night I spotted the same car parked in front of our house as I turned the corner. My hands started shaking as I pulled into the driveway and threw the lever into Park. I hesitated at the side door but pushed into the kitchen. The sounds came to me immediately. I already knew but then I really knew. I could turn around and leave, of course. Like the other times, I could just leave. Or, I could sneak into my room and use my earbuds and pretend. I couldn't pretend, though, and I knew it. I wasn't going to leave, either. I also knew that. My mind had been consumed by this.

I exited the kitchen and walked down the hallway not caring about the sound of my shoes on the hardwood flooring. I wasn't sneaking this time. The door to mom's bedroom was wide open. I wasn't sneaking and they weren't pretending at privacy. I stepped fully into the doorway. It took a moment for one of the guys to see me, the one fucking into her pussy. I could see his long cock pull only to be thrust back in and disappear. He leaned over mom who was on her hands and knees with the other cock in her mouth. It seemed to be a position they all enjoyed. He said something softly to her and she pulled her mouth from that cock and turned her head toward me.

She smiled. That's weird, right? She's naked and being fucked by two naked guys and she smiles at her daughter watching. It wasn't weird any longer, not after all the thoughts, the replaying of images, the talk, and the masturbation thinking about this. She shifted her weight to her left arm and motioned me in with her right.

I stepped right up to the side of the bed. I looked down at my mom who was now stroking the cock, her breasts swinging beneath her as the guy behind her continued driving his cock into her pussy even if he slowed his pace some. I looked at the cock going in and out of her pussy. I looked the other way at the cock her hand stroked. Both cocks were big, thick. Both cocks were shiny with juices.

Finally, I looked at faces. The two men were watching me with interest, not nervous, not hesitant, but confident with a sense of control.

"The one fucking me is Jerome," mom casually said without embarrassment. "This one," she added with a flick of her head, "is Ty." The men just watched her, judging her reaction. "Guys, this is my daughter, Emma."

The moment became awkward. They weren't the least bit embarrassed as the slow fucking and stroking continued. The quiet wasn't an embarrassment. The quiet was that they were all three waiting, waiting for my response, my reaction, waiting to see what I was going to do.

I took a breath. I straightened my shoulders and back. I was aroused beyond belief just by being there, just by seeing, just by wanting. "Hi, Jerome. Hi, Ty." I took another breath. Mom was looking at me, giving me a smile and a slight nod. "Mom has told me a little about you both," I offered.

"Yeah?" Jerome responded. "What did she say?"

"She ... ah ... she said ... she mostly just said ... how wonderful you make her feel." I stumbled to get it out. I mean I was talking about how my mother liked the way they fucked her. And while I struggled to get that out, Jerome was still fucking her and she was stroking Ty's cock.