If this were a story made up for a website of erotica, it would go a lot different that it actually did. It certainly wouldn't be as messy or complicated as it was, and the people would all be ideal character types. But this is what happened, and is happening to me.
Let's get the descriptions of mom and me out of the way. If we were characters for a website - let's call the imaginary site, Lit, we would be perfect. I would be quite handsome and of course have a ten-inch dick. Mom would be beautiful, with Bing cherries for nipples on her massive tits, and an ass that steel balls would bounce off. In reality, the most apt description for mom and me is average. You wouldn't notice us. We look like the overwhelming majority of people; that's what average means.
In a Lit story, an overwhelming passion would have enveloped us into a dramatic situation in which the only possible outcome is for us to end up in bed together. As it turns out, we were two lonely people that tried to make our lives a little more livable, and we made a conscious decision to try an unconventional way to do it. Here's how it happened.
My father died when I was three. I'm happy to report that I don't remember a thing about him because my mother told me what a miserable son of a bitch he was. He came as close to beating her as he could without actually doing it. My mother said he was bereft of kindness, and I found out later that the only sexual satisfaction she ever had, was by her own hand. The best thing he did was die on the job, in an accident that was his employer's fault. So mom got a settlement that paid for the small house we live in.
Mom still had to work, but the burden of a mortgage was lifted. She's had the same job for as long as I can remember. The job is to do everything for the Zanders that they don't want to, and can afford not to do. So mom cleaned up, shopped, baby-sat the kids, did a little cooking etc. The good part for her was that before I started school, they let her bring me to work. Will Zander was a year older and Laurie was almost a year younger. Will and I roughhoused and played together while Laurie played with the usual dolls and playhouses and hung on to my mother most of the time. At least that's how I remember my childhood.
Childhood seemed a long way away after I graduated and went to work for Carl Harris. He does lawns and landscaping in the summer, and snow plowing in the winter. Mom wanted me to go to college, but I didn't really like school. Carl paid me well and he promised to teach me the business. I thought it might turn into something.
Next month mom and I have a birthday to celebrate. I'll be twenty and she'll be forty. It's the last year she will ever be twice as old as I am. After that I'll start to catch up by percentage. I like that.
Most of what I can tell you happened in the last year. I may have to skip around to explain some things. Like why I was making out with Laurie Zander when my mother was naked, waiting up for me to join her in bed. That was the night she had decided to sleep with me. The night before, we had talked about it. We were kissing and mom had said, "Do you think we should have sex?"
I said, "Do you?"
Mom said, "I'm not sure, why don't we think about it a little longer?"
I said, "Okay." We kissed a little and went to sleep in each others arms."
I know, it doesn't sound very passionate or spontaneous, but that's because we had talked it to death the night before, when the talk about sex first came up. I won't go through the path that got us there, but the short version is that we had taken to watching TV together on mom's bed when we'd both come home exhausted from work. Night after night our bodies seemed to edge closer to the each other. Hands began touching hands. When she'd lie on my chest, sometimes she would stroke my face.
One night we were both affected by a movie; she was crying, I was choked up, and we kissed. Then she leaned over and we kissed again. I didn't want to be the aggressor so I waited, and then a kiss that started out as a bud, blossomed and opened. We kissed for a long time.
When our tongues touched, I could feel my already hard dick, strain. Mom didn't say anything as we kissed, but it all felt very loving. I would have thought it would feel strange making out with my mother. It didn't. I was anxious to touch her body and my heart went to my throat when I put my hand on her breast and fondled it. I felt her stiffen a little and I stopped and said, "Is it okay to touch you mom?"
She said, "Yes baby, it's okay, but we have to talk about this."
So we talked about it. She said, "Brian, this could be a very serious thing for both of us if we go on like this." I understood what she meant and we kept discussing it for hours. Mom wanted to be sure that I could handle the idea of having incest. I didn't care. I was excited. She thought that maybe having sex might make us feel better for the moment, but cause a lot more pain for both of us in the future. So after talking almost all night, mom decided that we shouldn't have sex yet, but she asked me to stay with her through the night. I kept waking up excited and I kissed her a lot, but we ended up not having sex.
Here's how I ended up making out with Laurie. As a teenager, I somehow fell into an undeserved reputation as a tough kid. It had more to do with the way I looked than what I did. I was a bit bigger than most and I liked wearing black. I had a scar across my eye from a fall. What sealed the deal was when one of the kids saw me in a police car being taken to the station. I had witnessed an accident, but the story that got out was that I had beaten some kid, (Or robbed a store – I heard both accounts) and my scar was then attributed to a gang fight.
I never bothered to set anyone straight and it came in handy when anyone bothered Laurie, all it took was a few words from me, and the boys backed off. I guess Laurie looked up to me and we were friends, but it caught me off guard when she asked me to take her to the Prom. She saw my surprise and said, "It's not like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing; I just want to go with you."
I didn't have a lot of girls asking me out, and I had only dated a few girls up to that point. I went with Laurie and the way she danced with me showed me that she wanted to be more than friends. When I took her home she said, "Brian, will you take me out?"
I knew her parents would hate the idea of her going out with the 'Help,' and what was going on with mom was on my mind, so I tried to make a joke out of it. I laughed and told her, "You don't need me to take you out; you have so many boyfriends you don't know which one to pick."
She said, "Don't tease me Briney, the boys I like never like me, and the boys that like me, I never like."
"Poor baby," I mocked her voice.
