Author's Note: I hate to do this--I would rather let the story speak for itself--but, I want to share a few comments, and hope I can do it without sounding like I'm making excuses or apologies for my choices.
First, I want to warn you that this is a long chapter. I originally planned to do this part of the story in three smaller chapters, but I decided not to 'drag' it out and instead conclude it all in one big shot.
Second, I wanted to let you know that there's a lot of plot and character stuff going on in the first half of this chapter. The longer this story went on, the more complicated things became. I grew surprisingly attached to these characters, and so I wanted to do their story justice. My hope is that if you've followed them this far, you will forgive my indulging in a bit more melodrama than might be proper for a jerk-off story. I did my best to bring it all home with plenty of raucous sex in the second half, but I'll leave it for you to judge if I was successful.
As always, I offer my humble thanks for taking the time to read my story, and especially for voting and sending your much appreciated feedback.
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My cock was hard. Even after days of nonstop sex with my mother, just thinking about being inside her warm, loving pussy got me hard again. Mom and I had one final game to play, and this time it would be for keeps.
We pulled into the new subdivision of pristine, ranch-style houses and Mom hunted for our street. She looked over at me, beaming with hopeful anticipation. She noticed the undisguised bulge in my pants and her eyes lit up.
"And I thought I was excited to see our new place," she joked. Her hand reached reflexively toward my cock, but she remembered herself and pulled back, gripping the steering wheel tight with both hands. "Here's our street."
Some of the houses were still under construction; others had 'For Sale' signs out front. Ours was at the end of the cul-de-sac and stood out for its expanse of bright green, freshly laid sod. Mom pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. We sat in silence and looked out at the physical reality of this new chapter of our lives. Mom squeezed my leg and got out of the car. I took a deep breath and followed her.
"It looks great," I said, lending as much conviction to my voice as I could.
"It does, doesn't it?" Mom enthused. "It'll be even better with some plants. Maybe a peony over here, flower beds along the side over there, and a rose bush or two out front by the mail box. It's going to be perfect."
She fiddled with the keys, trying to steel herself to take that next step forward. I came up behind her and gave her a hug.
"Any place you are, Mom, will always be perfect." I turned her around to face me. Her eyes were big and sparkled with wetness. "One last kiss?"
"Honey, I never said we couldn't kiss anymore." She gave me a motherly peck on the cheek, and another quick one on the lips.
"I meant one last movie-star kiss."
"Oh, no, sweetie, not out here where someone might see." She looked around with guilty apprehension.
"Mom, there's no one here but us." I leaned in and she tried to pull away. I drew her firmly against my chest and kissed her. She resisted for a moment, then gave herself over to me. Our lips pressed tight, our tongues found one another, and our bodies came together like they were a tailored fit. When I finally ended the kiss, Mom pulled me back to her for more.
Instead of letting her have her way, I bent down and scooped her up in my arms. Mom screamed in surprise and I carried her up the walkway to the front door of the new house. She giggled and kicked her feet like a school girl, allowing herself to get swept up in the excitement. I held her while she unlocked the door and pushed it open. I gave her one more kiss, then carried her over the threshold.
We were home.
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The next week was an awkward series of days. Mom started her new job, and I began looking for work myself. Our new place was great, but everything was strange and new. Mom had the master bedroom, and I had the smaller room next to hers. I'd lay in bed at night, the air filled with the scent of fresh paint, new carpet, and a fading hint of sawdust, and think about her.
I knew she was just on the other side of that wall. Was she naked? Was she touching her body, or maybe caressing a nipple? Were her legs spread wide, and was she masturbating thinking about me inside her? These were the thoughts that occupied my erotic fantasies.
My mom was the only one I thought about when I became hard and stroked my cock in the lonely darkness. Her voluptuous full breasts, the delicate swell of her belly, the sensual curve of her hip, and my memories of the wet, welcoming embrace of her pussy fueled my imagination, never failing to induce a wave of longing pleasure as I jacked out each nightly load of cum onto myself.
But, as I said, things were still awkward between us for some reason. Life was hectic while we sorted out all the details of our new house and got familiar with the local area. Mom and I went shopping for food, and all the little things we needed around the house. I could see how she forced herself to hold back from touching me, or even standing too close.
I was struggling, too. I knew what I wanted, to take our relationship to another level, but I didn't quite know how to make that happen. I wanted us to be together, emotionally and sexually, in a grown up way. I loved every second Mom and I spent fooling around with each other, but I didn't want it to be just naughty fun between us. While there was certainly a lot of love in what we had been doing, there was also a great deal of pure fantasy fulfillment, taboo thrill, and base animal lust. I was determined to make it something more.
If all I wanted was sex from my mother, I had little doubt I could manipulate her into it. All I had to do was pick the right time, go to her bedroom, and force my way past her affected objections. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from giving in to me at some point and letting me fuck her. But then would come the guilt and shame all over again. I had to figure out how to transform our relationship permanently, and to do it in a mature and caring way.
Mom was away at work and I found myself in her bedroom. I was well aware that I was giving in to my more childish tendencies, but I couldn't resist snooping. I didn't expect to find anything particularly out of the ordinary. The movers had yet to arrive with the stuff Mom had in storage, so all that would be here was whatever she had brought in her suitcase.
Her hamper was the first place I explored and was rewarded with a pair of recently worn panties. I stripped down to nothing and took them and sat on her bed naked. They had that familiar musty smell of dirty laundry I remembered from when I was a boy. Her distinctive fragrance was embedded in the crotch of the panties and it induced my cock to a pulsing hard-on.
I laid them out on the bed and opened her panty drawer. It was less than half-full. I pulled out her cream-colored satin pair, the ones she had on the first time she let me see her pussy. I laid them next to the soiled pair. Next I fished out the turquoise blue panties she was wearing the day I caught her masturbating alone in the motel room. I added them to my line-up. I spotted her lacy black panties and took those out next. She had these on the day we arrived at Aunt Linda's. She had me come on her pussy then she wore these panties over the mess for the rest of the day. I swear I could almost smell a remnant of my cum on them.
When I looked back I noticed something out of place at the bottom of the drawer. I reached in a pulled out a frayed notebook. It was a one-subject spiral notebook, the type a kid would use for school. It was in rough shape. The pages were tattered, it was ripped across the middle, but had been kept together by the curly wire. Someone had meticulously taped each page back together. I opened it up and saw that the first page was filled with writing. It was in my mother's hand, all the letters standing straight and neat.
It took me a second to sort it out, but I realized it was a story. It began:
Meredith had always loved her son, but she yearned to express that love more profoundly. She was contemplating the unthinkable. She had decided to seduce her own son. She watched him now through the window as he mowed the lawn. Shirtless in the sun, his body was young, and vital. Meredith could see the strength in him, and it awakened a craving between her legs--an ache that only he could fill. Her hand wandered over her own body, touching all the most sensitive places and ending up inside her panties. Meredith's fingers sought out the warm, moist center of her womanhood, the place from where the boy she was watching with lustful thoughts had come into this world. She was touching herself as she spied on her son and was nearing orgasm when she heard her husband pull into the garage and slam the car door. He ruined her private moment, just like he had ruined her whole life.
I couldn't believe it. There was page after page of the stuff. Mom had actually written all this. And it must have been years ago judging by the condition of the notebook. I continued reading imagining Mom as Meredith, and me obviously as the son. It was a barely disguised version of our lives, and incredibly hot. The further the story went the filthier it got, and the raunchier the language became. It was like I could see her opening up before my eyes as she explored her darkest fantasies on the page.
I guess at some point she must have been overtaken with shame and horror at the feelings she was having, and the desires she was actually committing to writing, and so tried to destroy the thing. I guess she rethought it and put it all back together and kept it all these years. Not only that, it was important enough to her that it was apparently the only personal thing, other than clothes, that she packed in her suitcase when she left the house.
I got a chill up my back when I read how the seduction started with the mother in the story purposely catching her son masturbating, then showing him it wasn't anything to be ashamed of by masturbated in front of him to prove it. I was jerking off like mad as I read, picking out the parallels to what really ended up happening between Mom and me.
I came twice before I reached the end, both times into my mother's dirty panties. But I was disappointed to find that it ended only about halfway through the story. The back half of the notebook was missing. Not only that, but the final pages were singed around the edges as if they had been near a fire. I touched the burnt edge of a page and it flaked away as ash and a revelation struck me that completely reshaped my personal reality.
