And Sister Maes Three

Author's note: I never intended on writing this part of the story after recording my affair with my mother in "Making Mom." (If you haven't read that episode, you might want to do so before reading this, to add to your understanding.) But I decided that since I had already admitted to the incestuous love I shared with my mother during the last years of her life, I may as well tell the rest of the story. Confession is supposed to be good for the soul.

Again, what I record is pretty much the way it happened. Obviously, I didn't take down direct quotes at the time, but this story reflects more or less what we said, shared, and experienced. Such things do, after all, tend to leave a lasting impression.

So here's the sequel. It is your decision as to whether or not you believe it. I think you will at least agree that my mother suffered tremendously during her second marriage. I am happy that I was able to eventually make up—in part—for her suffering, to add to her happiness.

*

When I awoke the following morning, my mother was gone. I could hear her working in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. I grabbed my robe and stumbled into the kitchen, thrilled yet thoroughly embarrassed by what had taken place last night. What does one say to one's mother the morning after having had sex with her?

"Good morning, mom," I ventured. Her back was to me as she worked at the counter and I could see her stiffen when I spoke. She was already—and deliberately, I thought—fully dressed, her usual breakfast attire being nightgown and bathrobe. The bottom strands of her hair bore witness to a previous shower. For a full minute she said nothing. Then, without looking at me, she finally suggested that if I wanted to shower, I better hurry as breakfast would soon be ready. It was one way of getting me out of the room.

I padded off to the shower and soon returned to the kitchen, to be greeted by a terse request to set the table. When all had been readied, we sat in the dining room, bacon, eggs, and toast in front of us. I began eating; she had only picked up her fork, staring at her food.

"Look, mom, about last night ...," I began, and she burst into tears.

"You called me a cunt," she blubbered. "That's what those other men called me. I am not a cunt, I am your mother! How could you say such things to me? And how do we ever go back to where we were? You fucked me last night (she spat the word out). Do you realize what you did? I am your mother, not just some other woman. And what about you? Aren't you ashamed of what you did? What about your wife? How do you think she is going to react knowing her husband slept with his mother. If you want to fuck someone, you are supposed to be fucking her!"

She was now fully dissolved in tears, threw her fork on the table, and fled to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her for emphasis.

This is not how I hoped it would be. I wanted to go to her, but realized she was too upset to talk so I finished eating, cleared the table and took my time cleaning the kitchen. Then it was time to face the music.

I approached her door and knocked softly. "Mom, can we talk?" No answer. I rapped again and called her name, still with no response. Finally, I opened the door and walked to her bed. She was lying under the covers, still fully clothed, facing away from me. Obviously, this wasn't going to be easy and I did wonder what kind of questions my wife would have if my mother refused to have any contact with me in the future. I stood by her bed and cleared my throat, even though I knew she was aware of my presence.

"We need to talk .... But I don't know what to say. I am sorry if I upset you...," this as I touched her arm. She spun around in bed, her eyes filled with fire.

"Maybe you should think about what you are going to tell your wife!" and she turned away once again.

I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. "I hope that Cathy never finds out about this," I began. "But let me tell you a few things that maybe you should know. First of all, I have wanted you for as long as I can remember. I wanted to feel your breasts.... No, I wanted to feel your tits, bury my face in your pussy, and feel my cock slide slowly into you. I wanted to cum inside you, to make you mine. And I wanted you to want me to do those things. Last night was my dream come true. You will never know how much that meant to me."

She said nothing. Time to take the plunge and put all the cards on the table.

"As far as Cathy goes.... Cathy isn't exactly a sex fiend. For some reason, she never seemed to really enjoy sex. And since we had the kids, she doesn't show any interest at all. She let's me fuck her about twice a month and is basically dead meat under me. She might as well be sleeping. Anything out of the ordinary, forget it. She sucks my cock on 'special occasions' only, and then for less than a minute. Same for letting me eat her pussy. That is hardly ever allowed and as soon as I get a taste, she figures that is enough and tells me to stop. I've tried to get her to see a counselor about her lack of sex drive but she doesn't think she has a problem. If you want to know, most of the time, I just jack off instead of going through the motions with her. And when I do jack off," I paused, "I think of you. I hope that you enjoyed last night, too. I know you came, so it couldn't have been all bad. I honestly wanted it as much for you as I did for me." Another period of silence during which my mother didn't respond. "Look. If you want to throw me out, just say so. But don't just lie there and say nothing."

She finally turned to face me. All the hatred had gone from her eyes. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Cathy. I know that can't be easy for you. But .... What we did last night is not supposed to happen. I suppose I should be flattered by your desire for me, but I am your mother, not your lover. If I enjoyed last night, that was wrong. I never should have let it happen. Think about what we did. You were inside of me. I had an orgasm while you were (she paused before completing the sentence) fucking me. I was in heaven being with a man that I loved once again. But I can't love you that way. It was just so wrong. Maybe I had too much to drink, but I should never have let you even see me the way you did, never let you touch me, let alone have sex with me. Somehow, we'll just have to forget about what happened...," her voice trailed off. "I do still love you, if that's what you're worried about."

I lay on the bed beside her, sliding under the covers to be next to her and took her in my arms. "Thanks for saying that, mom. I was afraid you would never speak to me again." I kissed her on the forehead and held her cheek to mine, whispering how much I loved her over and over. She slowly put her arms around me. My cock started getting hard from our embrace which she made no move to end. I caressed her other check, then ran my fingers through her hair, finally plying my finger over her soft lips. I could feel her body tense as I slowly pressed and held my cock against her body. I lowered my lips to her eyelids, gently kissing one, then the other. When I stopped, she opened her eyes, looking deeply in mine before I kissed her on her lips, softly at first, then with increasing passion. My hand, which up to now had been holding her shoulder, slipped down to feel the side of her breast. I began to probe her lips with my tongue which at first she resisted, then opened her mouth. Her tongue met mine. My hand now massaged the fullness of her tit, the nipple already noticeably hard even under her clothing.

"Oh, Jesus," she finally responded. "We can't do this again," even though we both know what was going to happen. I began to unbutton her blouse. When I had undone her blouse, she sat up to pull it off as I removed my shirt. I reached behind her to unsnap her bra, fumbling with the hooks until she reached behind her back and with a more-practiced hand undid it for me, then let the bra fall from her wonderfully luscious tits, her half-inch nipples now fully erect, capping each dark brown areola.

"Promise me that you will never tell anyone about this," she asked as my hands now cupped and gently squeezed her breasts. "Promise me."

"No one will ever know. No one will ever need to know," I assured her before locking my lips first on her nipple, then taking as much of her tit as possible into my mouth." Both of us now knew that we were voluntarily crossing a new threshold. She held my head in both hands as I ministered to her growing need. Finally, she gently pushed me away, then began removing her remaining clothing. I stood next to the bed and followed suit, my cock at last springing free, the end already covered with my dripping pre-cum. We lay beside each other on the bed, time becoming lost in our passionate kisses. After feeling her tits again, I lowered my hand to her pussy, now becoming wet with her juices. I gently rubbed her clit, then slowly inserted a finger into her pussy, first in, then out. I kissed my way down her body, finally tonguing her pussy. This was another milestone for me; unlike last night, this time she offered no resistance. I feasted on her treasure for a minute or so, as her hands grabbed my head, pulling me into even closer contact with her, her bottom rising slightly to give me greater access to her hairy womanhood.

"Oh, God," she said. "It has been sooo long...." After granting me another moments access, she pulled me upwards to kiss me deeply again, then pushed me onto the bed and lowered her mouth to my cock, first tonguing the head, then taking me into her mouth and beginning to suck my cock as it hadn't been sucked before. I may have thought of Mom as reserved sexually, but she now showed me that this was not the first time she had pleased a man orally. I let her suck until I felt my balls beginning to boil. I wanted to cum deep inside her, not waste a load on her mouth. I shifted our positions to place her on her knees, then attacked her pussy from the rear, licking at her juices, stroking her clit with my tongue, spearing my tongue into her, all the while giving my cock a chance to recover from her oral skills. She, without hesitation, was stroking her own tits, which only added to her pleasure.

When I sensed that she was reaching her orgasm, I put her on her back and prepared to mount her. Her hands immediately returned to her tits. She was ready to fuck. I didn't have to tell her to put it in. As I lowered my body to hers, she reached for my cock, directing it to her cunt.

Then, I was in and we were one.

We both orgasmed quickly, first Mom, her body going incredibly stiff, her breath held until she began to burst over the edge, then fucking back at me as if there were no tomorrow as she came. My cum almost immediately followed hers, as I pumped my spunk into the willing body of the woman who was my mother. I don't think I had ever come so intensely as I did that time.

We lay together, simply touching each other, continuing our exploration of each others skin, hair, and lips. Finally, she said something funny about the cum that was leaking from her pussy and we both dissolved in laughter. I knew then that everything would be okay.

Since she hadn't eaten, I now made her breakfast, then we paraded through the day in bathrobes, returning several times before dark to enjoy each others pleasure. No oral these times, just slow, languorous fucking. The work we had planned to continue that day had been forgotten. Before bedtime, we did shower, had some more champagne and made love one last time. I ate her pussy until she came again and again, then she once again sucked my cock, this time until I came in her mouth, even though she didn't swallow. She said she wanted to give me what Cathy would not.

Come morning, as she lay sleeping, I raised her leg and slipped my cock into her, fucking her ever so slowly as she awakened. I whispered to her to play with her pussy which she did with just the slightest hesitation. I waited until she had cum before emptying my balls into her. After a quick shower and a quicker breakfast, she helped me gather my things for my return home. While we were working, I asked her about the comment she had made about being called a cunt by some other men and what that was all about. Her response was that it was just something that had happened once which had upset her and that it didn't matter anymore. I left it there, kissed her goodbye and began my journey home, promising to return when I could so we could continue where we had left off, giving her tits one last squeeze as I turned to walk out the door.

My future was from that time filled with as many visits as I could make to be together with my mother. To eliminate any suspicions on anyone's part, I took Cathy and the kids along from time to time when they were not in school. My perfect cover for additional, solo trips was the necessity to deal with what turned out to be massive legal entanglements with Hal's business ventures, some of which had been legal, many of which had been not. Eventually, my mother divested herself completely of the whole thing, leaving her a very wealthy woman, just compensation for having to endure Hal.

I didn't think we would ever be caught. Then the shit hit the fan.

A word about my sister before I begin. When we were younger, Jenna and I had been very close. Together—without speaking about it—we suffered along with my mother through the turmoil of my father's death, through the poverty that followed, through my mother's marriage to Hal, whom we felt accepted us only as necessary evils which came as part of the package deal. Jenna eventually developed into a beautiful young woman, very sexy in a quiet way. I am sure that there were many guys of her generation who would have loved to have gotten in her panties, if only for an evening. She had ample cleavage, an athletic yet feminine body, thick and flowing chestnut hair, captivating blue eyes, delicate hands, and an easy-going manner with everyone. If she had a fault it would be that she fairly early in her teen years became deeply religious, something which thankfully the years had gradually begun to wear away. But because of her beliefs, we had gradually drifted apart. We remained friends, but I thought little of her convictions and I don't think she was particularly enamored by mine. Our final break was occasioned by her marriage to Frank, a fundamentalist minister who was forever spouting about the need for everyone to follow in the savior's footsteps, accept the lord, etc., etc. Somehow he managed to win the hand of my sister but I never saw them expressing outward affection for one another. That part hurt, as I knew Jenna deserved better and wanted much more. I though of him as a genuine asshole and saw him as seldom as possible. That also meant I saw little of my sister. The only times I saw her let her hair down was when she was doing an overnighter at my mother's house. Her language became more colorful and she was not averse to having a drink or two. I guess she realized that as soon as she returned to her home, she would be again living in a glass house, in conformity to the standards expected as the wife of a holy-roller minister. For whatever reason, they had not had any children. And even though Frank had automatically expected Jenna to immerse herself in the Lord's work, Jenna has stood her ground and sought fulfillment in her position as assistance branch manager for a personnel consulting firm.

My sister, Jenna, who lived just twenty miles away from my mother, arrived early one Monday morning following one of my weekend visits with my mother. Although she was not supposed to come until late morning, she—for some reason—decided to show up early. When she entered the house, Mom was still out on her morning walk. Since my sister had promised to help with "spring cleaning" and felt a good place to began would be with the laundry, she went into my mother's bedroom to strip the sheets. What she found (I would later find out) were the clear stains and fresh evidence that someone had been fucking in her mother's bed. She knew from experience the smell and appearance of male ejaculate. Jenna was paralyzed at the implication. She quickly undid her work, visited the guest bedroom, to prove what she suspected: my bed had not been slept in, even though she knew I had spent the weekend and had left just hours before her arrival. Her conclusion was that I had been raping her mother, since she just "knew" her mother was incapable of engaging in sex with her son unless she had been forced.

When Mom returned from her walk, Jenna pretended she had just arrived. They enjoyed coffee and rolls together. Then Jenna announced that it was time to get to work, the first task being to strip the bed in the master bedroom. Mom blanched at the suggestion, suggesting that Jenna run a few errands for her downtown. Jenna persisted, saying she could do that later while the laundry was drying. Mom could strip her bed and she would strip mine. Mom later said she almost had a heart attack. She knew that my bed had been unslept in. How was she going to explain that away? She resorted to stating that she had washed those sheets and remade the bed after I left that morning, an excuse that even Mom knew was pretty feeble and such an act quite unlikely.

Now Jenna knew. It only remained for her to have positive proof of what I was up to. She dropped the whole laundry question, giving Mom the chance to "destroy the evidence"

while she attacked the windows.

Two weekends later, I visited my mother again. That Friday evening, after what I thought was a romantic meal in our favorite restaurant, Mom and I finally went to bed. After a leisurely period of just enjoying each other's warmth and conversation, we began to make love. I was atop my mother, pumping my cock into her warm depths when the bedroom door burst open and Jenna rushed in. She had quietly let herself in using a spare key she carried.

Jenna had caught "me" in the act. "Get off of her! Stop fucking her!" she screamed at me at the same time she grabbed the nearest object (my mother's electric alarm clock) and hurled it at my head with all the strength and hatred she could muster. I was frozen with panic at our discovery and simply stopped moving, my cock still buried in Mom. My mother screamed. I just watched the clock sailing in my direction, ducking my head only when I was about to be hit. I was partially saved by the fact that just before it hit me above the temple, the cord snapped tight, greatly diminishing the impact. But it was still lights out for me. I was out cold, but not before falling from the bed.

Now it was their time to panic when they saw my eyes wide open, with only the whites of my eyes showing. Mom sprang from bed, buck naked, and knelt at my side where she was joined by Jenna. They tried to revive me, but I was unresponsive.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," my mother kept repeating, gently slapping my cheeks and wringing my hand in an attempt to revive me. Jenna thought she had killed me. Mom ordered her to call 911. After the call, Jenna returned to my side where it suddenly dawned on both of them that this was a somewhat delicate situation. What would the paramedics make of finding me where I was without clothes on, my cock and pubic hair glistening from the juices of our lovemaking? What followed must have been worthy of a key-stone kops scene. Jenna ran to get washcloth and soapy water to clean me up (my mom did the washing). My mother did order Jenna to dry me off, while she quickly swiped her pussy with the washcloth. Mom grabbed jeans and a sweatshirt and, when dressed, told Jenna they would have to drag me to my bedroom. They no sooner got me there, somehow managed to put my shorts on over my still half hard cock, and messed up the covers, when the paramedics arrived, just as I was coming to. Fortunately, by this time my cock was going soft. The story was fabricated that I must have fallen out of bed and hit my head, as this is how they had found me. But even though I was now awake, the paramedics insisted I be taken in for possible head trauma as what I was saying didn't make much sense and my "vitals" weren't that good.