I undid the top two buttons of her blouse. Her voice quivered. "Please, son, I...I.."
"I know, Mom," I interrupted. "But you need this. That bastard you married is not here to take care of you anymore - not that he ever did." I finished unbuttoning her blouse and carefully drug it down over her arms and laid it on the bed.
"But, Marty, you're my son. It's just not right."
"Well, someone's gotta do it."
"I know, son. It's just that you...you're not supposed to be seeing your mother like this."
"Relax, Mother. You forget that I'm an RN. I've seen plenty of naked women before."
She tried to pull back as I reached for the clasp at the front of her bra.
"It's okay, Mom. You ain't got anything on your whole body that I haven't seen before." I smiled wickedly. "Unless you were born without a vagina."
Her face turned a crimson red. "You shouldn't talk like that, Marty. Not to your mother."
I laid a hand on her shoulder to help calm her and with the other, I quickly undid her rather plain white cotton bra. Her more than ample breasts spilled from their confinement with volcanic like force. I couldn't help but look.
She had the largest nipples I believe I have ever seen. Big around as the end of my middle finger, they protruded from the center of two football shaped areolas. They looked to be over a half inch long.
And they were about as stiff as my dick!
Her bra followed the path of her blouse. I undid the button on the side of her skirt. She winced at the sound of her zipper being pulled down, but said nothing. I guess she had resigned herself to allowing me to undress her.
Mom lifted her hips from the bed. I tugged her skirt past her tanned thighs, over her knees and down to her feet. Mom sat back down on the bed and kicked her skirt away. Then she stood.
I retrieved her skirt and placed it on the bed next to her bra and blouse.
I silently chastised myself for ogling her body, but I just couldn't help it. I was mesmerized by her breasts. Despite her age, they sagged very little. Damn! My mom was one sexy looking woman!
She could have been standing in Cincinnati and someone would surely have seen them all the way down in Florida. They were that big! Her stomach was as flat as the proverbial pancake. Not bad for a forty four year old woman. I'd seen eighteen year olds whose bodies wouldn't hold a candle to Mom's. I corrected myself. Finest kind for any age.
I put my fingers in the elastic waistband of her panties. Just like her bra, they were plain, white and made of cotton. We both jumped when skin touched skin. My dick jerked inside my pants, threatening to fire its load at any second.
Mom spread her legs as I tugged on her panties. That's when I saw her pussy lips making the gusset bulge like it was going to burst wide open. I wanted so badly to bury my face in her crotch and lick her pussy until she screamed like a banshee as she orgasmed. Instead, I held my feelings in check - barely - and pulled the last vestige of her dignity off her. That's when I noticed the panties were wet. In the exact spot where her pussy had been touching them. Was Mom getting turned on by all of this? If she was, she was doing her best not to show it. Her tits and her pussy told the real story.
I tried my best to remain professional about all of this as I led my mother to the bathroom where a hot, soothing bath awaited her. I helped her into the tub and held on to her waist until she was sitting.
"Keep your arms to the sides of the tub," I told her. "Don't want to get your casts wet."
Mom had returned from the hospital where she'd been for the last four days recovering. Her facial bruises, her cracked lips and her two broken arms were courtesy of that no good son of a bitch that called himself my dad. He was no dad of mine; not after he hurt her like he did.
Fortunately, I lived in the guest house out back and I just happened to be sitting outside enjoying the cool of the evening when I heard Mom screaming in agony as he began beating her. Otherwise, she might have been killed. I got there as fast as I could, drug him off her and opened up a can of whup ass that you wouldn't believe. I had him down on the kitchen floor with my hands around his neck when the cops arrived. I was doing my best to kill the son-of-a-bitch. They quickly assessed the situation, pulled me off him and put him in handcuffs.
"What's gonna happen to him now?" I asked. Not that I really cared.
"Jail," the one cop told me. "Then, hopefully, prison."
"Any chance of him getting out on bail?"
"That will be up to the judge," he said.
By that time the paramedics had arrived and were treating my mother. I followed the cop out to his cruiser. "You tell that sorry bastard not to come back here if he does get bail," I said loud enough for Mother's husband to hear. "Not even for a change of clothes. If he does, he's gonna be one dead motherfucker!"
The cop looked at me and shook his head as if he couldn't believe I would say something like that in front of him, opened the door, sat down and closed it after him. I stood there with my heart full of rage and murder as I watched the black and white pull away from the curb and head down the street. I meant every word of what I had just said.
Mom nodded her head and closed her eyes. She had slid down until the water was barely covering her tits.
"You okay with all of this, Mother?" I asked.
She took a deep breath, held it for a second or two and let it out slowly. "Doesn't much matter if I am or not, does it," she said. "It's something that's gotta be done."
"We could always call Aunt Rose. She..."
"Little Miss 'I Told You so'? Not on your life."
"Why not?"
A tear formed in the corner of Mom's right eye. "And have her constantly telling me what a mistake I made for marrying James? I wouldn't last a day without breaking both of my casts over her head."
I grabbed a wash cloth and gently wiped the tears away.
"Thanks, son," she said softly. "Now give me a few minutes alone so I can put on my game face."
I left the bathroom and puttered around in the kitchen, knowing that Mom was probably trying to psych herself up for what was surely going to be the most embarrassing moment of her life.
I had just swallowed a mouthful of milk from the carton when I heard Mom call out. "I'm ready, son," she said in a voice so low I could barely hear her.
I replaced the milk carton in the refrigerator and closed the door. It took all of about two seconds to get to my mother's side.
I knelt beside the tub, grabbed the body wash and poured some of it onto the sponge. I then dipped the sponge in the water and began scrubbing Mom's back and shoulders. I washed her face and ears and then washed her back some more. I was stalling, trying to screw up enough courage to start washing her breasts. I was afraid I would cum in my pants if I did.
Suddenly and without warning, I began to daydream. I envisioned rubbing my mother's tits until she would get so excited, she'd ask (no - beg) me to suck on them.
Mom's voice broke through my fog of illicit, incestuous thoughts. "They ain't gonna wash themselves, you know."
I shook my head, embarrassed by what I'd been thinking. How could I be so sick and perverted as to want to have any kind of sexual contact with my own mother? Even in my horny, lust filled mind, I knew that such thoughts were wrong. But I couldn't help myself. For the first time ever, I was seeing my own mother as a sexual being. I mentally slapped myself and lowered my hands into the water.
With a great amount of trepidation I cradled Mom's right breast in the palm of my left hand. With my right hand tightly clutching the sponge, I began to wash the firm, but pliant appendage.
Mom let out a low moan when the sponge made contact with her nipple. Her body rose just a bit as she momentarily stiffened. With a sigh, she settled back down in the water. I could sympathize with her because my pecker felt as though it was going to erupt at any time.
Feeling a little devilish, I dragged the sponge over her nipple once more. I moved a bit slower this time as I slid it back and forth a couple of times across that rubbery protrusion. Mom closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it as her body quivered and shook. I tended to her left breast with virtually the same results.
I moved on to her stomach, her hips and then to her long, beautiful legs. I scrubbed the outside of her legs first, washed her feet and began my long and sensuous journey up the inside.
As I neared the center of my mother's womanhood, I glanced at her face. Her eyes were still closed and she was breathing a bit heavier than before. An electrical shock surged through the both of us as my hands accidentally rubbed against her pussy lips, causing Mom and I to pull back a bit. Why I didn't cum in my pants right then and there, I'll never know!
"Be careful, son," my mother said through clenched teeth. "I'm very sensitive down there."
"Sorry, Mom."
"I know you didn't do it on purpose," she said and then spread her legs as wide as the tub would allow. I took that as her unspoken approval for what I was doing.
I continued to rub the inside of her upper thighs for a lot longer than was really necessary, my hands coming in contact with her wrinkled lips on each up stroke. Mom began moaning even louder. I took a bold chance and extended my thumbs so that the next time my hands came in contact with her sex, they would rub against her clitoris. It took no more than four or five slow, sensuous strokes along her love button before she went spastic.
As I felt my cock spewing massive amounts of its stored up juices into my underwear, Mom was in the throes of her own orgasm. Wave after wave of water splashed up against the sides as she shook uncontrollably. Eyes still closed, her tongue lolled along the outside of her cheek. Her mouth was wide open, her face was flushed and her breathing was very shallow. I continued to stroke her little nub of pleasure.
After what seemed like hours, Mom quit quivering and lay like a stone with the back of her head resting against the wall behind her. I quit stroking her and began washing her hairy mound. I was amazed when I had first seen my mother's hairy groin after pulling down her panties. Lots of thick but neatly trimmed, bushy black hair.
Finally, her eyes opened. "What happened?" she asked breathlessly.
"I think we both know the answer to that one," I murmured as I turned my head to the side, too ashamed to look her in the face. Mixed feelings surged through my mind. On the one hand, I felt guilty and ashamed for what I had done. Very much so. After all, I had taken unfair advantage of my mother; my own flesh and blood. But, on the other hand, I was rather proud that I could make my mother feel so good. After all she'd been through with her husband, she certainly deserved every moment of happiness she could find
"It was totally unexpected, that's for sure,"
"I'm sorry, Mom."
