His Mother - the Whore

I'm not proud of a lot of things I've done. I'm hoping they're all behind me now but I don't blame anyone who has their doubts. I have a reason for thinking that this second chance might turn things around for me; I'm in love.

My name's Madeline and I've been in love too many times. My infidelities…lets just say that the short list of the ugliness is that I was a terrible wife and worthless mother. By the time my husband divorced me and took my fourteen year old son Lyle to live in London I was two years lost into a coke habit. It's a miracle I didn't end up homeless or dead. I did end up on the street.

For two months I lived by sleeping with strangers. That's too clean sounding for a dirty business: I fucked and sucked strangers for money. Believe me there was no resemblance to "Pretty Woman." The only saving grace was that I was smart enough to insist on protection but there was no protection from the humiliation.

The miracle was Jean who took me in and helped me get cleaned up. She's more than the family I never had. It took me two years until I was in any shape to even try and contact my son. When I did try, I made hundreds of phone calls from the States to England just to hear, "He's not here" or "Call back tomorrow."

Jean taught me not to expect too much and with her sound advice I did get through to him. Over time my son and I developed a loving long distance relationship. We wrote, called and e-mailed enough for me to say we know each other again.

I'm not bitter against my ex-husband for keeping Lyle away from me. He had no reason to believe I'd changed. When I first spoke to Lyle, I could hear the anger of a son whose mother had abandoned him but I was his mother and thank God that was enough to keep him talking. It took a year until he would say what I hadn't heard since his childhood: "I love you mom." I cried like a baby after I hung up.

What I wasn't prepared for was my reaction when we finally met again five years after he left. He came for a visit and to do some business for his father. Even though he'd sent me some pictures of himself, when he got off the plane, I saw the most beautiful face I'd ever seen on a man. Before I'd even realized who he was, a line of electrical juice went through my belly. I hugged his firm body and he sat close to me in the taxi ride to his hotel. I wanted him to stay with Jean and me but his father insisted otherwise.

We planned outings and dinners for the week he would be here and I was beside myself with excitement; all kinds of excitement. I started beating myself up about it but the feelings wouldn't go away. I told Jean, "This is nuts but if I can't talk to you I'm done so here goes: I've gotten to love Lyle all over again this last year because I see what a wonderful person he's become; but seeing him in the flesh these last few days…I can't get away from…shit…Jeannie I'm physically attracted to him."

"Oh boy…Maddy honey you know I love you and I'm always here for you but you should think long and hard before you do anything about this. You know you haven't been out with anyone in months and maybe that's getting to you."

"I know Jeannie and you of all people know that's not like me. I was always a sexual being, and in my stupidity that's one of the reasons I ended up on the street, but I just haven't been interested for the longest time - until now. I feel alive again; I'm thinking about him every hour of the day but I don't want to screw up my son for the second time."

"Listen sweetie, just because you feel something doesn't mean you have to do anything about it. Just be with him, enjoy him and love him; let the other stuff take care of itself for now."

She was right of course and I did enjoy him and love him but I also wanted him. As he was leaving for the airport I asked him if I was what he expected. He said with a laugh, "You're a lot sexier than I expected."

He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and as his hand left my back it crossed the side of my breast. That was all I needed. All I could think about for the next week was, "Did he do that on purpose or was it an accident?

I closed my eyes and masturbated all week with pictures in my head of my son's hands on my bare breasts; it was all I needed to come. We spoke and wrote and when the topic turned to sex, he described one of his girlfriends as having a good body but not as good as mine. That sent me on flights of fancy and fantasy. It's amazing how little it takes. Thinking of the things he could do to my body kept me coming for another week. Sex became a staple of our conversations. After a few months we even got into graphic detail. He actually asked me what a woman likes done to her 'down there', as he put it, and I told him. As I prescribed what a tongue should do to a clit, in as delicate manner as I could, I imagined my son's tongue on his mother's clit. In my imaginings after that, every part of my son was in every part of his mother.

I was transported with elation when he told he would be returning soon for another week of business in the States. I went shopping and bought lacy bras and panties telling the dumb half of my brain that it was only because it made me feel good to wear them. The other half knew that it made me wet to think that my son might see me in them or out of them.

There wasn't much left to imagine when I met him at the airport this time. He kissed me and his hand went to the place it had left three months ago; to the side of my breast. It lingered there. On the ride to his hotel he told me how much he wanted to see me, how much he missed me and how he had convinced his father that it was important for business that he come. He held my hand with one of his; the other rested on my thigh as he spoke. My pussy juiced.

When we got into the room he said, "Mom, all I think about, is loving you."

Our first lover's kiss sent more moisture between my legs as my son's tongue played with mine. His two hands kneading and pressing my breasts made me ache. His fingers rolled my nipples and his breathing told me that he wouldn't need fancy underwear to get him up. There was little subtlety in our undressing that first time; it all came off fast. My son stared at my body. I didn't think I could blush anymore but I felt the flush as his heated glances crossed my bare breasts and thighs and pussy while he said, "Look at you… look at you."

I didn't look at me; I looked at him. I looked at his long straining cock and thought it was as beautiful as he was. I told him so. He said, "That's wild. I never saw it turn up like that; it's so hard it hurts."

I kneeled and held the velvet heat to my cheek. "Let momma make it better."

I took the thick knob of my son's cock into my mouth and as I sucked it I thought of how good it felt to finally bring my son pleasure instead of pain. I licked the salty leaking tip and then sucked on as much of his shaft as I could. His fingers combed through my hair as I massaged the parts I couldn't fit into my mouth. The more I sucked and rubbed the more he repeated, "Mom…mom…mom."

I know he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted him to, but I also knew there would be all night for him to be in my pussy and anyplace else he wanted to be. At that moment I wanted him to come in his mother's mouth. I wanted a tangible taste of his love to fill his mother's mouth. I wanted his cum on his mother's lips and tongue.

I caressed him with both hands and he yelled, "OH…OH."

My son's first jet hit the back of my throat. The only good part of having known too many men was that now I could please my son. I could swallow and suck and massage as every spurt became a balm soothing our past. I took every drop and kept sucking until he couldn't stand. As he collapsed on the bed I held him as his words sang to me, "Mother…you're so beautiful."

It wasn't long before my son's cock sought my attention again. I knew what I wanted. Sex is rarely just 'sex' sometimes it's about power or domination sometimes pleasure or retribution. That night for me it was for absolution. I wanted my son to fuck me in the ass until it hurt. I wanted the pain that would make me feel better.

After rubbing his cock stiff, I offered my ass to him and said, "Fuck me there."

He had trouble getting his big knob into the small hole and I lubricated it with saliva. As he pushed into my tight channel, the pressure and pleasure and pain released tears that had waited five years to flow. As I cried I told him, "I'm sorry baby…I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me…I'm sorry…"

He leaned over and kissed my back and stroked my breasts saying, "It's all right mom…don't cry…it's all right."

I told him to fuck me hard. I wanted him to pound his way to forgiveness but he didn't do it. His touch told me he didn't need to. He kept telling me it was all right. He used his cock to love me. His gentle rhythm in my ass calmed me and I was grateful that the good person he had become wasn't poisoned with hate. I reached under to caress him as he stroked me. I pushed back on him until his cock was so far in me I thought I would scream and when his lubricating cum filled my ass, it pleasured me to orgasm.

I wanted to kiss him forever after that and almost did. We slept entwined for a few hours and when I awoke my son was kissing my eyes. I smiled without opening them and took his mouth to mine. When he had kissed the breath out of me, I said, "Darling boy, it's getting late and your mother has to get home."

"Please stay, mom; sleep here with me tonight." His imploring eyes and hard-again cock convinced me.

We showered together and I licked and kissed him all over. He fastened on my wet nipples and sucked each of them pink and puffy under the warm water. He held his slippery body next to mine and moved all over it. I didn't let him in me because I wanted to heighten the experience. He gave a little boy look and said, "Mom look at this."

I laughed and looking at his almost bouncing hard cock told him, "Don't worry baby; momma's going to take good care of that later; here's a sample."

My son's cock was big even semi-erect; it was lots bigger after teasing it with my tongue. It looked huge when it came out of my mouth. Having his sweet cock in my mouth thwarted my plans. I couldn't wait either. I needed to feel him filling his mother's pussy.

I led him back to bed. My son ate my pussy to distraction. He asked me if I would always let him love me this way. My throat almost closed with emotion as I told him. "All of me is only for you… your mother's pussy is always here for you. I'll never let you go again."

He filled me with his cock all night. With every thrust that filled my every hole my love and lust grew. By morning his staying power had overwhelmed me. I was exhausted, sore and more than happy.

His return to England tore my heart out and each day away was torture. I was addicted again; but this time it was to my son's love and loving. It could be worse. Now he says he's talking to his father about opening an office here and he will be making more trips starting next month. I told him, "I'm here; I'm waiting, for always."