WARNING: Negative annoying-mouse comments
will be exterminated with extreme preditorial!
The RisquΓ© Writer's Rule
Some may decry the confections,
That are my tales for heads and hearts;
Yet despite their imperfections,
They also affect the lower parts;
Remember it's just erotica,
Never meant to be fine arts!
8==3~ {sign of the cumming cock }
[Have you read my thread?]
Like the name of Madame DeVille's moniker, Cruella, some names fit the personality they are bestowed upon. Disney came up with that evil woman's apropos handle. My mother's folks named their only child, a daughter, Candy. This was shortly before the infamous 1968 movie was out. Though there were aspects of mom that paralleled the character that Ewa Aulin portrayed, she was named because my maternal grandparents thought her sweet.
She is. Think of the nicest and happiest and most giving gal you ever saw. Like the wife in the new movie "UP", or some ideal beautiful and loving lady that is so darling and perfect. The sort of female that is always happy and perky, never down and wants to help others, she is an inspiration. That lovely woman is sexy in a natural way, with an attraction that stems from her intelligence as well as her physical charms. You'd want her for your girlfriend, you'd marry her in an instant, if she would have you; you would be proud to bed her and hope to keep her. Take her home to the meet your family; everyone would say how lucky you are to have such a special partner.
That would be the rare female indeed who could be all that. She was almost fictional, an angel on earth, but earthy enough to get dirty in the boudoir. One in a million, even a billion; the pearl that you would give your fortune to possess, though if she loved you, it wouldn't matter if you were impoverished. Fortunately, my dad married the miracle that was mom, and we were nicely middle-class as it turned out. Unfortunately, while mother lived up to the nearly ideal perfection of what I described, she was my mom. Which meant that, while she was loved devotedly by me, yet my desire for her sexually was blocked by the incest taboo.
Thus at the age of my majority, twenty-one, when others of my age-bracket were far afield looking for their perfect mates, I had found mine at home. The problem of course was she was already married, to the man I love most, dad. Now my father was less than perfect, though a very good fellow in every way; handsome, a good provider, kind, courteous, considerate, or else he never would have won my mother's hand. 'I want a gal, just like the gal, that married dear old dad', in fact I wanted the very one. I knew that I could never marry her, but I could dream of having her β in bed. For sure, I frequently masturbated with thoughts of her curvaceous body coupling with mine.
Now my mom had perceived this fixation of mine and she didn't mind! She understood, even if nothing was ever overtly stated between the two of us. But by the look in her eyes, when she read my loving puppy-dog expression (and lusting look, tongue all but hanging out of my mouth like some cartoon wolf panting and drooling about the yummy lamb he wants to eat, the sexual symbolism lost on youngsters but not to their folks) mom knew of my yearnings for her in a carnal way, and she sympathized for me, perhaps even empathized. It didn't upset her; almost nothing did, except cruelty in any form. It was okay that her only child, her grown son, had feelings for her in that area.
It would be out of character of her total sweetness to resent what I could not help. I was like all other males who met her, who wanted to be her friend, protector and hero, and lover if possible. Like the best and favorite candy you craved as a kid, so as a man would you desire this wonderful woman named Candy. Since she had dealt with those reactions from guys all her life, she was understanding of her son being as the rest of the masculine half of humanity. But that didn't mean she loved me any less, nor allowed me any liberties, any more than she would any other man than her husband. Now I know that in these kinds of stories often the pattern is to get the father-figure out of the way. Oedipus inadvertently kills his pop on the road that takes him to wed his mother.
But that was not the case in my tale. Dad was always there, just not always there for mom, at least when it came to satisfying her physical needs in the bedroom. Like most middle-age men his libido slowed and his dick was limper, and his pill supply included the modern prescribed male-enhancement medicines. But also like most successful middle managers, his job took up a great deal of his time and energy, even his presence at home suffered because of extended business trips. The combination of factors mentioned, to say nothing of the slide into routine rather than romance; left his Candy often unwrapped, much less lacking in licking, nor much sucked and hardly enough fucked.
That's where I come in - or came in; I mean of course, fit in, fuckin', and cum in. Came in Candy, creamed in my sweet mom, just like those confections with the white centers surrounded by the caramel, you know which ones I mean! To paraphrase Ogden Nash, 'Candy is dandy, but lick her is quicker to stick her'. Mom loved cunnilingus, and indeed could not resist it as a seduction method. She had to have cock after her cunt was eaten. I am a little ashamed to speak of my dearest mother in such crude terms and so boldly and bawdily, but those are the facts of how I got to bang her butt. And if you think my language is blunt, you ought to hear what she sounds like when we are in the midst of passion. I meant it when I said she was earthy, that in the sheets she's downright dirty!
Now remember I mentioned that she was born shortly before the namesake film debuted? Well, she had seen it once on video, when she was about my age. Nowadays it is available on DVD, but you won't see it at Blockbuster, you need to order it special through the mail services on line. I had never watched it, but I was intrigued, if only because family lore was that the actress and mom did bear a striking resemblance. Mom was that kind of a doll and she retained her pretty girl looks even into her mid forties presently. So of course I rented it. It arrived the day after my father left for a two week trip to Europe. So I guess, in a way the pater was put out of the picture after all, for purposes of the action that followed after he left. But I wasn't to blame for his absence at least.
I invited mom to watch the movie with me in the family rec room. She thought that would be nice, it was a Friday, there was nothing else going on. We ordered in Chinese and brought out a six pack for the dinner and stuck in a bottle of Rhine wine for later. I put in the disk and we were off on a rather weird trip. You can Google the synopsis, but I won't bore you with the details of a sixties movie that is still odd and off-beat. The one thing you need to know is that at the end of the film, when Candy is finally fucking the last guy, she is surprised at learning his true identity. She says one word that gives the twist away, and gives a twirling spin to the whole plot in retrospect, and turns that twinkling instant into the last mind blowing sexual kinkiness.
"Daddy!" Cried Candy on the screen, in astonishment as she both orgasms and comes to the realization of who is screwing her, even as she is cumming. I heard mom say it too, but that did not register in my consciousness immediately, due to the shock of the incestuous implications that revelation produced in my brain.
"What?" I cried and hit the jump-back control that replayed the last minute of the cinematic climatic moment. This time when the dialog was confirmed, the echo from next to me also was repeated, and now I replayed the memory in my head and sure enough, though mom had been quiet for a while before that, she had chorused the line. Sure she had seen the scene before. But she had chimed in with her celluloid doppelganger, the second time too, "Daddy!" Her tone however was wistful and poignant. I wondered what had prompted her to speak and so pensively. I looked at her. She turned her head and blushed. Then her expression became clearly both vexed and amused at the same time.
"Oh don't look so shocked. It's not like you don't have a yen for me! What? - girls can't have a thing for their daddies too?"
My mouth flapped air a few times before the cogs kicked in and cognition cranked out the words I blurted, "You had a thing for grandpa?"
"I'm not the one that rented the dirty movie and got his mom to watch it with him!"
"It's not that dirty, especially by today's standards. You see more on the television in prime time, or soap-operas. And you're changing the subject."