A Night Away From the Rv

Editor's Note: This story contains scat fetish content.

* * * * *

Mom casually tore off a few sheets of toilet paper and proceeded to wipe herself clean. Even in my tired, dazed state, I couldn't help but notice the aroma from the toilet that was spreading throughout the bathroom. Suddenly nauseous from the smell and the slow realization of the previous several minutes' acts, I jumped up from the floor and stumbled towards my bedroom, leaving my mother sitting on the toilet. Before entering my room, I took a quick glance at Ed, still passed out on the couch.

Closing the door and collapsing on my bed, the room darkened by the night outside, my head started to spin as I felt my heart pounding hard inside my body. I didn't even know where to begin to focus my thoughts, my own world forever changed from the day before. I lost track of time as synapses sparked throughout me. Then, jolting me back to my new reality, there was a knock on my door.

"Uh, yes," I answered nervously.

"Honey," replied my mother from the other side of the door, "the pizza guy is here and I don't have any money to pay him." Not for the first time that evening, I was almost flabbergasted by my mom's ability to cut to the chase, ignoring the more prominent issues at hand. Nevertheless, I thought, the pizza guy did indeed need to be paid.

I got up from my bed and walked to the door, my legs wobbly and my hands shaky as I reached for the doorknob and opened it up. My mother, dressed once again, was at the door. She greeted me with a surprisingly un-insinuating smile, dulled by her still-glazed eyes. As I passed her, heading towards the door to my apartment to pay the pizza guy, I thought perhaps our way of dealing with our earlier actions would simply be to say nothing of them. After all, we did not see each other very often and were not especially close anymore. Yes, I thought, the right mode of action would be to pretend nothing happened-—say nothing of, well, the blowjob she gave me.

"Seventeen fifty-five, man," the awkward young man with my pizza told me as I approached the door.

Giving him a twenty, "Keep the change," I said. Then, after handing me the pizza, he walked away, neglecting to thank me for the tip. On my way back to the living room, I walked through the kitchen, setting the pizza on the table. About ready to invite my mother into the kitchen, I once again noticed her absence. I looked to the bathroom, but the door was open and the light turned off; she wasn't in there. Then I looked to my bedroom. I thought I could see her bare, two weeks' worth of stubble and slightly plump legs on my bed. I moved towards my room slowly, nervousness infiltrating my stomach. As I reached the doorway, I saw my mother, completely naked, head propped up by a few pillows with her legs slightly spread and arched. She just stared at me.

I stood there, in the doorway, for a moment, having decided conversation was not the strong point of the relationship my mother and I had with each other. She was unlike any woman I ever had fantasies about before. She wasn't anywhere near the supermodels in my fantasies, or my fiancé for that matter. She was plump—-there's no other way to put it—-she had some rolls on her belly and her legs and arms were thick. And she wasn't exactly clean looking. She had hairy armpits, as I had discovered before, and the aforementioned stubble on her legs and, the most shocking part, the most massive bush growing around her cunt, nearly reaching her belly button. The carpet certainly matched the drapes, as her pubic hair was graced with the graying hairs that sprinkled her hair on her head. Though I had caught a glimpse of it earlier in the bathroom, having her spread out completely nude on my bed really awakened me to just how glorious a bush it really was. Yet, again, it looked as though she maybe hadn't washed for a while. The hair, from my vantage point then, looked almost matted down in places, perhaps courtesy of Ed adventures to her nether regions. Never did anything close to resembling my mother's appearance enter my erotic fantasies, but then, as before, my dick was hard as a rock.

After what must have been minutes just ogling her body, my eyes returned to her face where they met with her eyes once again. Still simply gazing at me, she finally lowered them to her crotch. As I followed them, I saw her spread her legs more and then look back at me. Wordless, she held out her arms to me. In seconds, I had all of my clothes off again, my erection jutting out from my body. I walked quickly to my mother, her arms still outstretched, and fell on to her. As she held me to her, I began to kiss her lips, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. I wanted to enter her very badly but, but the softness of her body, minus her somewhat scratchy legs, was too much for me to neglect; I had put my lips and tongue on every part of her. She responded in moans to various degrees, but mostly she just caressed the back of my body as I ventured my way down her own body.

Scooting myself further down the bed and as I neared her crotch, I, of course, ran into her massive mound of pubic hair. I ran my nose and mouth through it, taking in her scent. My previous suspicions about Ed being responsible for some of the bushy mess were correct—-I distinctly smelled and felt the stiffness of dry cum in her bush. Instead of being appalled, though, like my logic told me to be, I became even more aroused, smelling numerous other aromas, too, that on any other day would have made me sick. Running my tongue down the rest of her to her pussy, it finally entered her, which, upon contact, made her thrust her hips violently upward, nearly making me bite my own tongue. I lapped aggressively at her cunt, tasting indescribable juices mixed with urine, sweat and God knows what else. She became wetter and wetter by the moment, her juices coating my chin and cheeks, and continued moaning louder and louder, slamming my face into her with her hands. Finally, she came, her spasmodic body and breathing slowing down to a more restful mode.

As she was catching her breath, I did the same, slowly licking her bush up and down-—almost cat-like--cleansing her of her own juices and mess. While doing this, I had a moment of inspiration. Raising my head to look in her eyes, I smiled, as did she. Then I slowly lifted her legs, my hands grabbing her by the thighs, and folded them towards her stomach. In that position, I looked down at her pale, fleshy ass and in between her somewhat hairy butt cheeks. Taking my non-verbal cue, she held her own legs to herself and I dove my face in between her ass cheeks, spreading them with my hands. There were smells, some reminiscent of those just an hour or so earlier, but I didn't care. I felt depraved; there was nothing I wanted to do more at that time than lick and eat out my own mother's ass. As my tongue darted in and around her sphincter, my mother actually screamed, surely waking any sleeping neighbors, I thought, but apparently not Ed. Her body shook. For I don't know how long, I was a mad man, using my oral skills to the best of my ability to please my mom. Up and down the crevice of her ass, tasting, surely, her remnant shit and whatever else may have come out of that orifice. Finally, exhausted, I let up, her screaming and shaking coming to an end, and I collapsed at the foot of the bed.

We were both breathing extremely heavy. In a more rational state of mind, I got up and closed the bedroom door, hoping to at least drown out a bit of any future noises that could awaken Ed, though I took a quick peek at him and wasn't even sure if he was still alive as he laid there on the couch. I looked at my mom as I returned to the bed and for the first time since I saw her naked in my room, she spoke.

"Fuck me," she said quietly, her voice a bit unsteady from her still-heavy breathing.

Climbing on top of her, my dick slid into her cunt nicely. She didn't feel like any of the number of twenty- or thirty-somethings I had fucked before. They always felt so fragile under me when I was inside them. Mom's cunt fit around me so perfectly I nearly came upon entrance. Having given birth to four kids and fucked however many guys, I had expected her to be so loose. She wasn't tight by any means, but she really knew how to use her cunt, slowly, warmly milking my cock as I stroked inside of her. Admittedly tired from my oral services, as surely was she, we took our fucking nice and slow. I leisurely kissed her upper body as I rhythmically pumped her, my hands caressing, alternately, her breasts or her face. She held on to my ass, pushing me into her, occasionally slipping one of her fingers in between my cheeks and into my hole, an incredibly erotic sensation that nearly triggered an orgasm each time she did it.

I came twice in her. Momentarily feeling spent after shooting my wad the first time, my cock deflated in her, almost plopping out, but her cunt lips grabbed the head of my cock and refused to let me leave, quickly encouraging another erection as I slid deep back into her cum-filled pussy. We must have screwed in this manner for an hour and a half, a strange, somehow beautiful, wordless fuck. After I came the second time, I pulled out of her and laid down next to her. Holding her plump body to my own, the warmth it exuded quickly put me to sleep.

I awoke the next morning alone. At first thinking it had all been a dream, though that theory was quickly put to rest as the soreness of my dick and the fuck scent of the room came to my attention. I got out of bed, putting on a robe and went to the living room. The only sign of my mom or Ed was the empty beer cans. I looked around the apartment a little longer, though it's not too big, and all I found was the uneaten pizza from the night before. Then, I noticed a message on the answering machine. Pushing the button, it was my mom's voice:

"Thanks for letting us stay last night, honey. We left so early we didn't want to wake you up. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

I've talked to my mom since that night a few times, but never does the topic of our fucking come up. It's something I would certainly like to partake in again should the opportunity arise, but, I guess, the way we have simply chosen to deal with those events is simply to ignore them when we speak. However, for me, it has become impossible to make love to my fiancé without imagining that it is my mother below or on top of me.

THE END