Abby's Fantasy

I've wanted to fuck my mother ever since I was a little girl.

You would too. She's thirty-five but has an itty-bitty waist and big, perky, milk-white tits that her bra can barely hold. I saw her nipples once when she stepped out of the shower, and they're still pink like a teenage girl's.

She married my dad when she was seventeen and divorced him three years later. I don't know why that dumbass would cheat on that pussy, but maybe he liked variety. I can relate; I only came out of the closet last year, but I've already fucked more girls than any boy at my school, and I've fucked my share of boys too, with protection and without. Still, last week at a matinee, while I was burying my face in a straight girl's snatch, I realized I would never be satisfied until I had licked the juices out of my mother's golden-haired cunt.

Fortunately, the movie inspired – it was a lesbian flick I had chosen for the occasion – and it didn't take me long to come up with a plan. Actually, I launched my campaign that very night.

My mother was watering the plants in the living room when I came home.

"You're home early," she said. "I thought you were spending the night at Hannah's." She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, but the shirt did nothing to hide her huge, melon-sized tits, and her bubble butt stretched the fabric of her sweatpants.

"We had a falling out," I said, kissing my mother on the cheek. I hadn't washed afterwards, and my face was still smeared with Hannah's cunt juices.

"What's that for?" she asked, dabbing at her cheek in surprise.

"I just appreciate you," I said. "That's all. Hannah's mom dropped me off at the video store on the way home, and I picked up a couple of movies. I thought we could have a weekly movie night kind of like a mother-daughter thing."

Half an hour later, I was popping the DVD into the XBOX and sidling up to my mother on the couch. I pulled my knees up to my chin and laid my head on her lap. I could smell her crotch through the thin fabric.

The movie was unremarkable aside from a lengthy lesbian kiss. My mother didn't say anything, and I knew I'd have to go slowly, so I just lay there, watching the girls on screen suck each other's tongues and thinking how close my face was to my mom's little white cotton panties.

The next week went normally. I got fucked by a big dick in the boy's bathroom and came all over his balls. I told Hannah that I loved her. This was really just to shut her up. I was eating her out every day after school, and she was going crazy, telling me how much she loved me while sucking on my tits and fingering me through my panties. Each day I kissed Mom on the cheek before I left for school and as soon as I came home.

Sometimes, I gave her a long hug, enjoying the feeling of our big tits pressed together. I was a head shorter than my mom, but my tits were almost as big. I wondered if she had ever titty-fucked anyone. I doubted it.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked one day after I kissed her a little too close to the ear.

"Nothing," I said, smiling and twirling around. "I just love you. That's all."

My mother frowned. She knew something was up.

"It's just a difficult age for a girl," I said. "My body's changing. Boys have been bothering me at school. It's just nice to have a mom who understands and doesn't judge me."

She swallowed it just like I knew she would. She still thought I was a virgin and had been thrilled when I took a pledge at Sunday school to save myself until marriage. I later ate out half the other girls in that group including a self-righteous Christian bitch who let my boyfriend fuck her in the ass while I sucked on her clit. To this day, she still insists she's a virgin.

That weekend I rented another R-rated film. This one had a sex scene in which this goth chick ate out a middle-aged woman in a pant suit. It didn't show much just this business woman moaning and shoving this goth chick's face deeper into her bush. But Mom reached for the remote. She was one of those devout Christians who fast forward through anything sexual.

"Mom, what are you doing?" I asked, sitting up. I had been curled into her arm.

"We don't need to be watching this sort of thing," she said in her most motherly tone.

"I'm eighteen," I begged. "I should be able to watch TV."

Mom ignored me and kept fast forwarding.

"Mom!" I screamed.

Shocked, she turned to look at me. Tears were streaming down my face.

"How do you expect me to learn about my body?" I asked. "You don't talk to me. Do you want some pimple-faced boy at school to teach me behind the annex?" I could barely talk I was crying so hard. "Because you're living in a dream world if you think they haven't tried."

Mom wrapped her arms around me, and I buried my face in her breasts. I would've been turned on, but I was crying too hard to concentrate. Sometimes, I lie so well that I believe myself.

We didn't watch the rest of the movie, but after my tears dried, I told my mother goodnight and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Then I laughed and dashed up the stairs.

I hid in my room with the lights off until I heard the roar of a faucet coming from the bathroom. My mom never locks the door, and I, biting my lip, slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door.

My mom was in the middle of undressing. She slipped out of her jeans and, hooking her thumbs into the waistband, wriggled her bubble butt out of her panties.

I couldn't stop staring at those legs. They were so long and slender. I wanted them wrapped around my head, her hips grinding my face into her snatch.

She bent over to pick up her jeans, and I wished to God that I had a dick. My dad must have been an idiot; I would have fucked that ass raw. I would have fucked that pink asshole until it gaped, until I could slide two fingers into her ass without touching the rim of her butthole.

I dashed upstairs and, lying in bed, fingered my box, my other hand holding Hannah's panties to my nose, until I came. I kept fucking myself until, out of breath, I squirted all over my fingers, but it brought no relief.

After that, I stepped up my campaign. Every day, I stood on my tippy toes and kissed my mother on the cheek. She turned her face dutifully, but I sometimes snuck a kiss below the ear or at the corner of her mouth. I once kissed her earlobe, popping it into my mouth and giving it a quick suck before laughing and dashing off.

On the weekends, we watched dirty movies. In my favorite, a couple brings home a girl for a threesome, and the wife falls in love with her. The best scene involves the girl on her knees in the kitchen, her pretty face shoved up the bitch's cunt. The camera shifts for a point-of-view shot, and you can see her eyes dancing and the corners of her mouth laughing even though the bottom half of her face is hidden by the wife's bush. Usually, studios fake shots like that, but in this movie you can tell that she was really tongue-deep in that chick's vagina.

Mom saw me take the DVD upstairs where I watched the scene a dozen times, but she didn't say anything. She went to church on Sundays and Wednesday nights and acted like nothing was going on. I remembered her leaving me with Grandma when I was little while she went out on dates, but she never stayed out all night and never had men over at all. Anyway, that was years ago, and I knew it must have been ages since she was properly fucked.

One night, after a particularly passionate lesbian scene, she went to bed early. I crept up to her door and listened, but I couldn't hear anything. The next morning though, after rifling through the laundry bin, I found her panties. They were soaked.

I was slowly getting closer to Mom on the sofa, literally invading her personal space. I used to sit in the armchair, my legs tucked under me, while she sat on the sofa, but now I wriggled under her arm and laid my head onto her lap. She usually rubbed my back or stroked my hair with her free hand. Once I popped her finger into my mouth and sucked on it. She just laughed and called me "silly."

One night we were watching Angelina Jolie go down on some girl – I always picked movies that had at least one lesbian scene – and I asked my mother what it felt like.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taking her arm off my shoulder.

"What's it feel like when a girl goes down on you?" I asked.

"Usually," she said uncertainly, "a boy would do that. Girls usually date boys."

"I know that," I said, rolling my eyes, "but what does it feel like when someone licks you down there?'

She tried to avoid the question and turned back to the movie.

"You've never done it?" I asked, moving closer to her.

"We shouldn't be talking about it," she said, acting like she was about to get up.

"Fine," I said, "I'll find out at school. Plenty of girls have already done it. Chelsea told me that Allison ate her out at church camp last summer."

My mother frowned. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back, and I wanted to brush it away and suck on her ear so bad. "Abby," she said as sternly as she could, "are you still a virgin?"

"How can you ask that?" I screeched. "I just want to learn about my body, and you make me feel like a slut."

My mother softened. "I know, Honey. I know."

"You were married by seventeen. I don't even know what it's supposed to feel like."

My mother didn't say anything.

"I don't even know my own body." I looked down at myself. I was wearing a cami, and I liked the way you could see my bra peeking out at the top. "I need someone to guide me through my body's changes. I know a lot of girls who are letting boys explore their bodies with them, but I know that's not what you wanted for me."

My mother pulled me close and kissed me on the top of my head. "What would you like to know?" she asked.

I glanced at the living room windows. "I don't feel comfortable going into it here. Can we go upstairs?"

Mom paused the movie and followed me up the stairs. I led her into her bedroom and shut the door. I loved how girly her room was. The wallpaper was a soft pink while the furniture, the four poster bed, the dresser, and the vanity, was white. Lace curtains hung over the windows, and she kept a patch of red silk over the lamp, which gave the whole room a reddish glow. Fragrant candles littered every exposed surface, and the room smelled of flowers, fresh fruit, and perfume.

"Someday," I thought, "I'm going to fuck my mother in this room. I'm going to make the whole room smell like her cunt."

I walked over to the bed and pulled off my cami. Now topless aside from a skimpy little bra that overfilled with boob flesh, I began to wriggle out of my skirt.

"What are you doing?" my mother asked, shocked.

"I just want to show you something," I said, stepping out of my skirt. I hooked my thumbs into my panties and, sticking my butt out, pulled my boyshorts down around my ankles. I lied down on the bed and spread my legs. "Does my vagina look normal?" I asked.

My mother watched me wide-eyed, but then she sat down on the edge of the bed and bent over me.

Truthfully, I had seen more vaginas than my mother had ever dreamed of in her horniest dreams. I had a little tuft of golden-brown hair – I normally shaved it, but I had stopped so my mom wouldn't find out – above a tiny, little slit. If you folded the puffy lips back, you'd see pink pussy flesh and a vagina so tight that two fingers stretched it. My boyfriend's ten inches tore me apart.

My mother, her hand on my knee, looked closely. She gingerly pulled the lips apart and put one finger on top of my tiny clit. "It looks fine," she said, standing up. Her legs were shaking.

"Does it look like yours?" I asked, closing my legs and rolling over. I would've given anything for her to grab my naked ass.

"More or less," she said, looking away from me.

"Can I see it?" I asked.

"I never showed my mother my vagina," she said. She looked at me like I was something sticky spilled in the trash.

"You didn't grow up in the twenty-first century," I said. "My friend Emma got Chlamydia when she was fourteen."

My mother sighed. "Okay," she said, "turn around."

She unbuttoned her jeans and, shaking her butt, wriggled out of them. Her legs, slender and firm, seemed taller than I was. They ended in little girl feet that seemed too delicate and tiny to support her full height. I had my hands over my eyes, but I caught a glimpse of her bush through her cotton panties.

She slipped them off and stood there, naked from the waist down and wearing only a football jersey that could barely stretch across her big tits. She shifted her hundred and ten pounds from one leg to the other, blushing and muttering to herself.

I jumped off the bed and, kneeling on the carpet, put my hands on her hips. Her bush was fuller and darker than mine, and I could imagine myself pulling out and cumming on that bush while she ran her slender fingers through the sticky hair.

I pressed my face closer and inhaled her sweet, honey smell. Her pussy was bigger than my petite little snatch, and I thought she would probably need a big black cock to fully satisfy her, not my dad's six inches. I barely touched my thumb to her clit, and she quivered. I knew she would orgasm quickly and easily. Pulling her pussy lips apart, I almost passed out with the sight and smell of that glistening snatch. My mother, barely breathing, exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. I popped my finger into my mouth and sucked off the juices.

We never discussed that night. I went to school as usual, and she went to her dance and yoga classes and her part-time job at the law firm. I went to school and fucked Hannah afterwards or got assfucked in the boy's bathroom.

One afternoon, I licked Hannah's clit while my boyfriend pumped her pussy full of cum. She freaked out a little bit because she wasn't on anything, but I kissed her and told her it would be okay, and my boyfriend gave her some Xanax, which calmed her down. She later passed out, and my boyfriend took pictures of the cum slowly dripping out of her pussy.

At home, my mother avoided me, but I just clung tighter. I modeled the bra and panties I had bought at Victoria's Secret, my butt cheeks swallowing the thin fabric and my boobs overflowing the skimpy bra.

Mom missed our date night, claiming she had to work late at the office. I had my boyfriend over, and he fucked me three times on my bedspread with the big, pink heart, but I still missed her.

The following week I decided that I needed to push things a little harder. Before I left for school on Monday, I stood on my tippy toes, my left leg twitching, and kissed my mom on the lips.

She pushed me away. "What was that?" she asked. I thought she was going to spit.

"I just wanted to show you how much I love you," I said, looking down at the floor and batting my long lashed.

She let it go at that, but she brought it up that afternoon.

"We need to talk about that kiss," she said. "It is not appropriate for you to kiss your mother on the mouth."

"You're the only person I've ever kissed," I said.

She sighed and sat down at the dining room table.

"I know you're exploring, trying to understand your body, but there are boundaries to exploration."

I wanted to tell her that someday I'd watch her pink lips suck the cum out of my boyfriend's cock, but I didn't. "I want my first kiss to be special," I said. "I don't want to throw it away." I looked down at my lap. "I don't even know how to kiss. The girls at school tease me. They call me a prude."

My mother watched me from across the table, but she didn't say anything.

"Will you kiss me?" I asked. "I need someone to kiss me."

"I love you," she said, leaning forward and kissing me on top of the head, "but there are limits to how that love can be expressed."

That night I covered my head with the bedspread and cried. Tears of anger coursed down my cheeks, and I felt like I was choking. I wanted to fuck her doggy style, her long hair in my clenched fist, and bang her pretty face into the headboard with each thrust of my hips. I wanted to cum deep in her uterus and laugh when she got pregnant. I fingered myself furiously.

The next day I got my revenge.

My mother met me at the hospital. The nurse was swishing a cotton swab inside my mouth.

"What happened?" she asked, her face white. Her purse slipped off her arm and fell to the floor.

"I wanted to have my first kiss," I said, my mother a blur seen through my swollen eye. "I wanted to prove to you that I'm not a lesbian."

The nurse glanced at my mother, and I saw her beautiful face crumble and collapse in on itself. The sobs shook her until I thought her lungs would burst and fill with blood.

I didn't go to school the next week. My mother stayed home with me, and we worked out and practiced yoga together. It must have been my imagination, but I thought she wore her short shorts and sports bra just for me. At night, we watched movies on the couch, and my mother held me close. Every few hours, I asked if my mom thought I was pretty.

One night we were watching a girl suck on another girl's lip when my mother asked me if I was a lesbian.

"It's okay with me if you're that way," she said. "I know the Bible says it isn't right, but it doesn't matter to me."

The girl on screen was topless, and her girlfriend was, with a mischievous look in her eye, sucking on her perfect little B-cup tits.

"I'm not a lesbian," I said slowly as if I were searching for the right words. "It just feels... safer right now."

A few minutes later, I told my mother that the boys who raped me never did kiss me. I asked her if my first kiss could be with her, and she nodded, and our faces came together, and our lips touched. Her lower lip was fat and soft, and as I sucked on it, feeling her tongue flick against my upper lip, I tasted the tears running silently down her face.

After that, I French kissed my mother every day before I left for school. I stood on my tiptoes and tongue-fucked her. One morning she pulled away after I had sucked on her tongue, and I noticed she was out of breath.

"Was that a good one?" I asked, laughing.

She nodded, her eyes still closed. "Mhmm, you know it was."

If I could have slipped my hand into her panties, I know they would have been sticky with honey.

The next day, however, she told me that she wanted me to go to therapy. I had been prepared for this – I had been waiting for it actually – and I readily agreed. During my first appointment, I talked nonstop for two hours.

"I know I shouldn't kiss my mom," I said. "I know it's filthy and disgusting, but," I paused, "I'm scared."

"What are you afraid of?" the woman asked.

"When," I paused again, "it happened, I liked it. I mean I didn't like it, but I liked parts of it, or my body did. I have feelings deep inside of me, and I don't trust anyone else with them other than my mom. She's the only one who understands."

It worked. The therapist apparently told my mom not to push me away or not to freak out over anything minor or something along those lines. My mom still insisted that I go to therapy, but the kissing continued.

We made out during movies. I rarely saw a film all the way through. I just couldn't keep my tongue out of her. Whenever we would stop making out, I would put my arm around her, and the tips of my fingers would touch the sides of her huge tits. She always faced forward and, her eyes staring directly at the center of the screen, pretended nothing had happened.

Once I unhooked her bra while we were making out, and when her face turned bright red, I started laughing, giggling like a little girl. I giggled for so long that she finally smiled and held me close like I was crazy.

During our next date night, I asked her if I could see her boobs.