Confessions Of A Motherfucker Ch 04

[Author's Note: This story is becoming almost uncomfortably autobiographical. My mother had a brain tumor, inoperable with the technology of those long ago days, but the impact on her was much the same as we see in this story. So I'm getting uncomfortable. Let me know, Gentle Reader, if you like this and want me to continue. I don't think David and his mother will follow the same trajectory as Mom and I did, that is a story for another time. But it looks to me like they are heading down a dark path on which there are no U-turns allowed. Let's see, shall we?]

Interlude

"Okay, Sluterella," I thought, and that name he had given me made me smile, "now he knows. Are you really prepared to have your fucking

SON

do what you need to have done?"

"Who better, dumbass?" I asked myself, "Some slug like those men you've been dating? Like fucking George of the hands on the ass? At least David loves you."

"I know," I said to myself, "but Jesus, he's your SON!"

"But I can trust him," I said back, "and I'm on a dangerous road."

And that, of course, was the nub of it. This fucking disease was robbing me, bit by bit, of myself. Right now I seem to have plateaued. I haven't noticed any new expressions of it in a couple of months. But in many ways, that makes it even worse. Each day is borrowed, and I know the next symptom will appear eventually, and I'm terrified. Will my arm start flopping uncontrollably? My leg? Will I start drooling like Pavlov's dog after the bell rings? Will my eye droop?

"Oh, STOP IT!" is snapped at myself. "He loves you and will take care of you until it's time and then you'll just disappear from his life. So enjoy what you can."

Interlude

Finis

I didn't sleep but I did doze a little. It's easy to do when you're sexually sated, physically exhausted, and have a nipple in your mouth.

My mind is an interesting place.

I'm smart.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I don't

feel

smart. I'm not Sheldon Cooper with an eidetic memory or Erwin Schrödinger giving the world that cat that is both dead and alive, but I can ace a test without studying. It seems to me that I have an average memory when I'm trying to memorize the lyrics to a song, but the other guys in the band are amazed at how quickly I can do it. I guess, when you get down to it, it boils down to this - I've been told often enough, by people whose judgment I trust, that I'm smart, that I accept it.

But my mind is an interesting place, and as I woke, I knew what my first time "satisfying" Mom's need for sensation would look like. I knew it in full detail. I could almost see and feel how it would go.

And I got hard.

I didn't move when I heard the pattern of her breathing change and felt her stir. I just lay there, my mind working through the plan, looking for flaws or ways to improve it. I wanted my first time to set a bar that was very high, making me work hard to maintain standards. I love my mother very much and wanted to give her what she needed.

I didn't stir when I felt the bed move as she rolled out and padded into the bathroom.

In my mind I fixed a couple of details, ensuring her complete satisfaction.

I remained still when I felt her crawl back into bed, preceded by the faint scent of Listerine.

But she knew me too well.

"At least you didn't run screaming from the room when you had the chance," she said, little puffs of her warm, moist breath in my ear raising goosebumps on my body. As she spoke, well, as she breathed the words softly, her hand was trailing down my belly where she found my erection and held it.

"Would you like to know," I asked, concentrating on holding still, "how I'm going to make sure that you go to sleep tonight completely satisfied?"

I heard her breath catch and felt her squeeze my erection.

"Yes, please," she breathed into my ear.

I reached down, gently detached her hand from my cock, and lifted it to my lips. I kissed her fingers, making her smile, and then bit down on the tender web between her thumb and forefinger making her cry out and squirm.

I scooted around and rolled up onto my side, my hand propping my chin, and met her eyes.

"First," I said, brushing a few stray hairs away from her forehead with gentle fingertips, "I'm going to make love to you. It's going to be slow and gentle. If you need to fake it, I'm okay with that, but I think your body will respond even if you're not getting the full impact."

She started to say something but I stopped her with a finger to her lips.

"Then I'm going to send you out into the backyard, naked with my cum running down your thighs," I was deliberately being crude with my language, "and you're going to select a switch for me to use on you later tonight," I said, holding her eyes and enjoying the catch in her breath.

"Then we're going out for breakfast, you can dress but don't even think about underwear. You'll smell of sex and as the hostess seats us, if I'm lucky, other customers will turn and look and you'll be embarrassed. And then I'm going to enjoy the football games while you get the house spotless," I went on. "Oh. and did I mention you'll do your housework naked?"

"And then, at precisely 7:22 p.m., I'm going to give you the spanking of your life," I finished.

Her eyes were big by the time I finished.

And I could smell the impact I had on her.

I brushed an imaginary hair away from her face, holding her eyes.

"I'm going to take care of you," I said, my fingertips lightly brushing her cheek, "in every way you need."

She caught my hand and kissed the fingertips that had been brushing her skin so softly, "I believe you."

"Would you like to know a secret?" I asked, my lips touching the shell of her ear after I had covered her eyelids with soft butterfly kisses.

"Mmmmmm, please," she said softly, her head back and to the side, offering her throat to me.

"Mom, it scares me how much I

want

to do those things to you," I said.

"If it helps," she said, and her smile was an odd combination of pensive and happy, "it scares me too but that doesn't stop this," and she captured my hand and pulled it down to cover her pussy. I could feel how wet she was, her natural lubricants thick and warm on my finger.

When I started to speak it was her turn to shush me with a fingertip to her lips.

"David," she said, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear, "I trust you and I thank you. There won't be any silly 'safe words' between us. We don't need them."

And that gave me a rush in my belly.

So we did what I had told her we would.

I started by covering her face with soft butterfly kisses, telling her she was beautiful, and telling her I loved her.

When she reached for me I caught her hands and said, "No, Mom, let me do the work."

She smiled and sighed and lifted her head to kiss me.

I took my time and, as I expected, her body responded exactly as I anticipated. Her nipples were hard buttons on the equally hard cones of her areolas. When I kissed and sucked, nuzzled, and caressed them her breath caught.

"Harder," she whispered, but I didn't. I kissed gently and nuzzled softly. I was moving very slowly as I worked my face back and forth until my lips found the very bottom of her breast and I felt the warm weight of her mammary gland on my cheek.

She giggled when I nuzzled and then licked her armpit and then yelped when I nipped the tender skin there, not hurting, just teasing.

And I was right. I was clearly getting to her. The womanscent of her excitement was heavy in the air. But I didn't touch between her legs. I kissed her ribs instead and when I traced a rib with my tongue she giggled and squealed. At her belly button she squirmed again as I licked and probed, my tongue warm and wet.

I scooted down and that brought my mouth to the delta of her pubic hair.

I breathed deeply, inhaling her womanscent, making my dick even harder, something I wouldn't have thought possible.

I licked and bathed her pussy, like a cat, nothing but my tongue touching her.

And she responded beautifully.

Her sweet love nectar was flowing now, thick and white, salty and oily, and delicious. I kept licking at her, enjoying her scent and taste until I felt the sudden tension of her orgasm. Her back arched and she came, a gout of her honey ran down the crack of her ass, matting the hair there.

I let it flow and began kissing my way down the inside of her thighs.

Her hips were rocking by then. That black pubic hair that made her pussy look like I had carefully trimmed her into a mohawk was wet with her thick white nectar. I loved watching it slowly run down the crack of her ass as I kept kissing my way down her legs until I got to her feet.

I moved forward then, slowly, kissing my way back up her thighs. At her sex, I stopped to cover it with my mouth and used my tongue to play and probe and lick while the delicious salty oily honey filled my mouth.

I deliberately rubbed my face and hair into her. I wanted her to see and smell herself on me when I completed our lovemaking.

I finished moving forward and slipped inside of her. And yes, it was "slipping," she was so wet and ready. As I did so I kissed her, parting my lips and letting the nectar I was holding there flow between us, sharing her taste.

The rhythm I set up was slow and gentle. The kisses I covered her face with were light and loving.

"Harder," she whispered.

"No," I said softly, "there are more ways to give you sensations than that."

"Please," she said, but I could feel her body responding despite her protestations.

"No," I said. "If you need something more," and I kissed her softly, "think of how embarrassed you'll be," I traced the shell of her ear with the tip of my tongue, "walking around the back yard, naked, picking out the perfect switch for me to use on your pretty ass."

I felt a sudden tension in her body and knew I was getting to her.

"There's the fear as you see 7:22 approaching," I said, kissing each eyelid separately.

I felt her squeeze where I was inside of her.

"Just think of how humiliating it will be when I send you into the

7-11

for a six-pack of

Coors

with my cum on your face and in your hair," I said, being deliberately crude.

Her breath caught and I felt the sudden tension as her body got close to her climax.

"Maybe," I said, smiling down at her, kissing her, "you'll make a mistake when you bring snacks when the guys and I are playing

Destiny 2

and I'll need to spank you while they watch."

Her eyes got big and she came.

It was a good orgasm. I could feel her back arching, her belly bowing up against me. Her breath caught and then she inhaled, a long, slow, inhalation as her pussy flowed.

But she hadn't quite hit that true peak. I hadn't felt her squirt, that

female ejaculation

that is so hard to find. So I pressed harder.

"And since you were a bad girl," I said, kissing her cheek, "I'll make you suck their cocks."

She exploded.

The sound she made was a wordless plea, starting low but moving through the register from a contralto to mezzo-soprano to soprano in a single long exhalation that can only be written as, "UuuuuhhhhhhaaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE."

And she squirted then. She sprayed that hot, thick love honey soaking my balls and my thighs.

"Making you beg them to allow you to suck their cocks," I whispered and she came in a second wave.

"And then spanking your pretty ass because you're giving away what is mine," I said, brushing her lips with mine.

And her body came a third time leaving her limp and panting.

"Relax now," I said, starting to cover her face with little kisses while I sped up my rhythm, seeking my own release.

"Harder," she whispered.

"No," I said, my lips brushing her ear.

"Please," she breathed, the sound so faint I could barely make it out.

"No," I said, and if you ask me again I won't do the rest of the things I promised for today.

She relaxed then, and there was something about the pure sadness in her face as tears started leaking from her eyes that got to me.

I came, but it was an oddly gentle climax. I didn't get those hard, muscular contractions deep in my belly, evolution's way of sending my seed deep into her, seeking an egg to fertilize and ensuring the race went on.

Instead, it was like I hit some sort of peak and just overflowed. It was different for me and, in many ways, better. I didn't get that sudden burst of pleasure, so intense it was almost painful, so fierce my body would retreat. Instead, it was like those instants any man will recognize, the fraction of a second just before the pump kicks in when it is perfect.

And it went on.

I flowed and flowed and kept flowing.

I could feel the pressure in my urethra, as I feel when I pee. I could feel the hot stickiness as she started to overflow, covering my shaft. I could feel when she overflowed and my balls were covered in that hot thick syrup.

Finally, some measurable fraction of eternity later, my body was done and I let out the breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

I held that position, enjoying the sensation of slowly softening inside of her, watching her face as I did.

I jerked free as my hypersensitive glans found the tightness of her labia and she whimpered in response.

"Now tell me," I said, stretching out beside her, my chin propped on my palm, holding her eyes with mine, "that you didn't feel that."

She rolled onto her side and mirrored my position, fingertips finding my cheek.

"I don't know how to explain it, Honey," she said, and I could see those two vertical "I'm thinking" lines between her eyes.

She took a deep breath.

"It's not that I can't

feel

it," she said, very serious, "I just don't get the sensation I need."

She touched my lips when I started to speak.

"David," she said, and she was so serious I knew we were right at the bottom of the problem here, "I'm terrified. This disease doesn't take away my

feeling

. Hell, I feel EVERY twitch. It's losing control. At the end, I'll

feel

every uncontrolled spasm, every flop of my arm or twist of my face. But I won't have any sensation from it. It will be like watching those poor people when I was in the clinical trial, flopping helplessly, unable to stop but getting no sensation from it. It's like that. Like I'm watching but not drawing any impact from it."

She was crying now. Not sobbing, but tears were running down her cheeks, her eyes were red, and her sinuses were swollen sinuses leaving bulges on both sides of her nose.

"Will you really do those things to me?" she asked.

My heart was breaking when I took her into my arms.

"I promise," I said. "I'll hurt you and humiliate you, I'll embarrass you and make you ashamed. I'll do all of that and more because I love you."

"Promise?" she asked.

I cupped her chin in my hand and squeezed, pulling a moan out of her.

"Yes, Mom, I promise," I squeezed again, liking the way she cried out.

"Now get out in the backyard and find a proper switch. Not too big, not too small. Something that will leave a nice set of welts," I said, smiling, and then kissed her.

"Honey," she said, a bit of a whine in her voice.

"If your pretty ass isn't in the backyard in 30 fucking seconds," I said, trying to put a snap in my voice, trying for anger that I didn't really feel but thought she needed, "then it's early to bed, unsatisfied for you."

Her eyes got big.

"Thirty," I said, "twenty-nine."

"Oh, God," she said, rolling out of the bed.

"Naked," I called, watching her ass, and it IS a very pretty ass, kind of jiggly with just a hint of cellulite dimpling. Women are supposed to be soft and round and Mom was that. My semen leaking down her thighs helped the image.

I leaned back, laced my fingers behind my head, and thought.

And God help me, I smiled.

I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed either.

I mean, look. Mom had a problem and I was ready to help her with it. The fact that I was up to my ass in incest, that the help I had to give her included delivering pain and humiliation to my mother, and that there was a pretty good chance that before it was all over I'd be passing her around like a pot pipe didn't enter into it.

I love my mother very much. In fact, I love her enough that I didn't shirk at what she needed.

Okay, here's the thing.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I realized something very important about myself.

I have a wide and deep sadistic streak. I was looking forward to my future.