I Think My Mom Wants To Fuck Me Ch 02

Please read the previous chapter for context. Tags include heavy petting, kissing, and jokes and puns, as well as of course incest. All characters are over 18. If you didn't like the first, you wont like this one.

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It has been hard living alone with my mother, but I have been able to catch up with old fiends. I heard some music late at night and realized it was a band playing right next door in my neighbors garage. Sure enough, when I asked around, I found out my old neighbor Patty was still around. She had a band and was playing lead guitar. Last time I had seen her I was still in high school and she was in middle school, but she was nineteen now and trying to devote herself to a musical career. I asked if she could give me a lesson sometime, just so we could catch up.

When I answered the door I was surprised to actually see her. I had thought she would be too busy. She was a small girl, brown skin with black hair and eyes. She was athletic and lithe and wore a crop top with jeans. It was strange to see her so much older. For a moment, I could not help but look at the small lumps on her chest. She was feminine, but tomboyish. Her waist was small and her legs were strong. I tried not to think of her in that way, even if she was a woman now. "Hey, Patty!" I invited her in and she smiled a bright white smile. She was very short, but spunky.

"Hey Dork." I grimaced as she laughed and entered. "No one calls me Patty anymore, it's just Pat now. You know, like Pat Benatar?"

"Right." I closed the door.

"So you live with your mom now?" She asked. Her long hair was in a ponytail that swished through the air quickly. She was carrying a guitar case. "She home?"

"She left for a bit." I explained.

"I heard about your dad." She said a bit less playfully, looking away, "Sorry about that."

"Well, in any case." I tried to change the subject. "I guess you really got into music. You mind if you teach me some tunes? I have a lot more free time now, and it was always something I have been interested in."

"Sure!" She seemed exited. She led the way to my room. She had hung out enough times to know where it was. Back then she had been tiny when I showed her the guitar I got for my birthday. I remembered back when she thought I was so awesome just cause I had one. She wanted to play with me every day. It turned out I would just leave mine to collect dust and she'd become a rock star. Funny how things worked out. "What do you remember?" She bounced to my bed and unzipped her case like it was her room. It was strange seeing her wearing something so revealing. I still remembered her being a little girl. Now she was going for some sexy, punk, goth girl vibe.

I sighed and picked up my old instrument. "Not much. You should probably walk me through everything." I played the top string with a twang.

"Ew!" She shook her head and laughed, "Put that thing down, use mine. That sounds like it has been out of tune for ages." She put her guitar in my hands. It was smooth and beautiful. The wood was a light chocolate color. "Here," She had a naughty grin as she touched my hands to make sure I was holding it right, "One hand here, on my body." She laughed, "I mean, the body of my guitar. You know what I mean." She explained, "And here, on my neck." I saw her gulp when she said it. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly

"Are you okay?"

"Yea! Fine!" She chuckled, "It's just, this thing means a lot to me, and you were the one to get me into rock and roll, so this is kind of a big deal for me." She smiled, "I kind of think you're great, is all."

"Ha, Thanks! You're pretty great too!." I nodded, "Cool, so, like this?" I tried out gripping the strings.

"You can grip harder. I don't mind. In fact, It will feel better that way." She looked timid, as if it were an intimate affair. "I know it's weird, but trust me, she can take it." She swallowed hard, "In fact, she likes it rough."

"She?"

"Me and this girl have been through so much, I feel like it's a part of me." She explained. "Anyway," She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "Just, ah, grab her by the neck. Be forceful. Not to hard, just let her know you are in control."

"Like this?"

"Yea." She nodded. She was breathing hard. "Now, uh, this is top string, it's E. Then A, Then D, G, B, E." She pointed at each note.

"Cool."

"Try to play something." She looked nervous. I tried to show off, but it wound up with a loud twanging noise. "You don't need to be so rough down there!" She shook her head. "Make sure to hold the neck tight, but no need to slap her! Well, not yet anyway. Not until you learn how. For right now just, um, gently finger it." She said. "It's the rhythm that's important."

"Right." I strummed a bit softer.

"No, Not there, it's too high. There is a sweet spot."

"Oh, where?"

"Here." She said, touching my hands with hers, "See the hole? Anywhere around here." She looked very embarrassed.

"Sorry, I've only ever tried this alone." I joked. "The only thing I had to go off of were videos on the internet. I didn't have anyone to teach me."

"I guess that's how I learned too." She nodded, "I think that's how most people figure it out." She gave an awkward smile, "But, those kinds of videos will give you false expectations. Just let me take the lead, alright?"

"I think we were watching the same kinds of videos." I nodded. I was trying to make her feel more comfortable, but she seemed to fidget even more. "Anyway, uh," I had no idea how to end the awkward conversation, "Do you, ah, have a favorite note?" it was the first stupid question that came to mind. "Or is that a dumb question?"

"No! Not at all!" She encouraged me, "Ah, I guess, if I had to chose, I really like the D." She giggled, "Go ahead, and give me the D."

"Oh," I tried to find it.

"Here," She hesitated before inching towards me and putting an arm around me. She was still so small that she couldn't reach quite right, "Wait, let me-" She moved her legs around me on the bed to sit behind me, straddling me from behind. Then she put her hands on mine and moved them to the right place, "Press it right here," She moved my left hand, "Then stroke your D right here." She moved my right hand up and down.

"Oh, the center one?" I nodded. "You use a D a lot?"

"Not as much as I'd like." She admitted.

"You seem nervous, Whats wrong?"

"Nothing!" She said quickly, "It's just," She paused, "It's embarrassing to admit, but, I really like seeing guys play with their D."

"Even if they don't know what they are doing?"

"Especially!" She encouraged him. "It's cute!"

"Well, I'll be sure to give you a lot of D in the future then, how about that?" I strummed the note, but it sounded off.

"Haha!" She laughed. "It looks like you might need some more experience-"

"What's the problem?"

"The Neck-"

"Oh," I held the note tighter and strummed, "So I need to hold your neck tight when I give you the D?"

"Well, that's they way I like it at least." She seemed flustered. She continued, "Let's try some licks."

"Licks? Oh, like a solo?"

"Well, between you and me," She gulped, "I've actually been doing a lot of solos lately." She laughed at herself. "I've never had a guy hold my neck before." She gulped, "Or give me the D for that matter." She mumbled, "Let alone any licks," She admitted. "I guess I was just waiting for the right guy. For some reason, I always hoped you would be my first. It's really embarrassing to admit actually, but most nights I'm holding my own neck alone and doing solos by myself-"

"Well, it isn't embarrassing to practice right? It just means you will be better when it comes time to perform."

"That's what I keep telling myself." She joked.

"Well, I'm glad you decided to let me be your first." She was blushing madly. I could tell how much this meant to her.

"Anyway," She looked away, I could nearly feel the heat from her face. "I always wanted to see you try a few licks on my girl." She continued. "Here, try this," She played a few notes in quick succession.

"Wow! Did you come up with that on your own?"

"Well, yea, it's one of mine." She admitted. I could tell she was embarrassed. I could feel her heartbeat past her crop top on my back. She was getting even more exited. "Just, uh, try touching this-"

"The G string?"

"Yea."

"How do you move your fingers so fast?" I asked, astonished at her skill.

"Let's start slow." She said calmly, but with a hint of anticipation. "How about I keep my hand on your D, and you finger my G-String?" her voice was high and betrayed how vulnerable she felt.

"Got it."

"Now-" I turned to see her bite her lower lip. She was blushing. She was more cute than I remember. "Just keep an even rhythm. Up and down." I did as she said. "Keep the pressure constant. Make it smooth." I did my best. She played with me and I played with her. It sounded alright.

"I think I'm getting it." I nodded. "It's hard, but I think I can manage."

"Well, it should be hard!" She giggled. I felt her shiver as she said it. "Right, well, in any case," I heard her sucking on her lips, "I guess I could show you some more adventurous things, if you have the basics down."

"I'm listening." I answered, "I mean, just keeping a tight grip on your neck feels weird, but I guess I can do more."

"Oh, don't worry, she's a sturdy gal." She giggled and snorted. When she did she looked mortified.

She covered her mouth and I laughed. "It's fine. You might be a rock star today, but you're still Patty to me."

"Ha," I could feel that she was getting even more anxious. I wasn't sure how to make her more comfortable. "Anyway, with an acoustic, you can do some percussion like this if you want." She slapped the wood and played a few cords.

"Oh, wow that's sounds amazing!"

"Well, it feel's amazing too. In moderation." She pressed her chest and hips deeper into me. I could tell she was having issues reaching around my shoulders. "Try slapping it around a bit while you finger it. Not directly, not to hard, just to make it sing." I did. It wasn't that good. She showed me a good rhythm though, and in a few minutes she was moving in sync, holding my arms from behind me. "Right, like that." her eyes were closed. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Her body was moving against mine to the beat, "You are learning fast! I can feel it!" She squeaked, "Do you know how to hammer it?"

"Uh, no?"

"You can hammer a note like this," She pressed down on a note without strumming it, but it still sounded. "It's more about speed than strength. It's a bit more advanced. It's like a Pull off."

"A Pull out?"

"N-No! That is something different!" She explained. "But, if you were willing to take responsibility, I might be willing to try that with you too. But, only after a lot of practice sessions first!"

"This box can sure handle a lot can't it?" I said, changing the subject.

"It sure can!" She answered, happy with the change of topic, "Hammer it, slap it around, finger it, do whatever you want." With her permission I began to explore her instrument. We were both curious about each others style. "You need to make love to it." She said in a breathy tone. "Not to firm, not to tight, keep the right pressure and rhythm. Start with some soft strokes, up and down. Yea, like that." her body was flush to mine. "Keep a nice beat. Let me help again," She must have realized my left hand was hurting, "You strum my chords, I'll hold your wood, keep it smooth." Her fingers danced on the strings as I tried my best to play them right. She moved her hands up and down the fret board as if stroking it. She chuckled, "Softer! Slower! There is no rush! There is no need to go inside that hole or anything." She seethed, "But you can slap around it more if you want. Good, now a bit faster. That's nice!"

"Really?" it did sound pretty good. Her body rocked mine to follow the beat, her hips ground against my back as she slid her tight, experienced hand up and down the smooth wooden shaft.

"Ha! Yes!" She yelped. She was a real spitfire wasn't she? I was glad I asked her to teach me.

"Should I try some licks?"

"Oh yes! Perfect timing" I hammered on some notes and I felt her move her free hand to hold me around the chest. Her body undulated. "I've wanted you to play with me like this for so long!"

"Oh, well, I'm having a lot of fun!" I said. "By the way, this chord, is this A-minor?"

"It's okay, I'm not a minor anymore, you don't have to hold back."

"What?"

"I mean, C! It's C Minor!"

"Oh, Okay."

"You know," She seemed to shiver, "We could, ah," She seemed reticent to suggest it, "Plug it in? If you felt like you were ready." She asked in a demure, submissive manner. "If you really wanted to. If it feels like we're going too fast we can wait."

"Really? I thought it was just an acoustic?"

"There is a hole for a plug." She groaned, "If, If that is what you are into. It would make it feel more," She seethed, "E-Electric!"

"Well, you seem very exited about it. I guess we should."

"It will be," She squealed and she warned, "L-Loud!" her hand around my chest moved down and around me. It felt like she was adjusting her pants. "Ohh! I think it would feel a lot better if we stuffed it in!"

"Will it bother the neighbors?" I asked.

"I plug small stuff in her in all the time when I do solos-" She explained, her lungs quivering, "I've never done it with someone else, but I'd love to do it with you. The Neighbors never complained before, even when I was really loud."

"Who is playing music?" I stopped playing and looked up. My mother was at the doorway with a concerned expression. I stopped playing.

"Oh, hello!" Pat gave me some space and sat beside me, her hands at her lap. "Your son asked me to come by-"

"Uh huh." My mother nodded. She seemed a bit grumpy towards Pat. I wondered why. They had always been so friendly before. "And what are you doing with my son?"

Pat looked very embarrassed. I knew how weird it was to speak to someone else parents. I decided to answer for her, "She was just showing me the basics. You know," I showed the guitar, "Holding her neck, slapping it, hammering it, giving her some licks, that sort of thing."

"I see." For some reason, my explanation made her even more suspicious of the other girl.

"You know," Pat gave a wry smile to my mother, "He doesn't seem to have much experience." She hinted, "And if you wont teach him how to play, someone should."

"Mom, do you know how to play?" I asked in surprise.

She frowned at Pat. "So it's like that then?" She didn't answer me. She just stared at Pat. "Well. Two can play at that game." She took a deep breath, "But for now, I just got groceries for some brunch." She started, her tone changed drastically as she smiled to me. "I'm not a young punk." She said, a bit aggressively towards Pat, "But I do know what my boy likes."

"Oh, do you mind if I help?" Pat stood up, "Cooking is actually a hobby of mine."

"Really?" I asked.

She smiled at me, "Yep! You still like pancakes right?" Pat crossed her arms. My mother looked at the teenagers flat chest, then hers, than me, "At least, that's what I remember. You like it with lots of butter, right?"

"Wow, that was a long time ago." I laughed, "Yea, I remember when we tried to cook together. You got all that sticky syrup all in your hair!"

"Haha!" She got up and walked past my mother who was staring daggers at her, "Yea, that was a whole lot of fun. Let's do it again sometime!" She winked and let the room. My mother followed like a woman on a mission.

As I shifted to follow I noticed something strange. I felt my back and the bed behind me. There was a wet spot. She must have worked up a sweat.

--

"So." I heard my mother say to my left. Pat was to my right. They were starring at each other as my mother continued, "What are you going to try first?"

"This is a lot of food." It looked like two breakfasts. I gulped and picked up a fork.

I was about to make my choice when I heard Pat say, "Try the pancakes! I made sure they were slippery with butter, ready to be covered in syrup!" I nodded.

But before I could dig in I heard, "Try the Grapefruit honey! I grew them myself!" My mother said quickly, "Oh, and the buns! They are a lot more fluffy and juicy than those pancakes!" She growled. "And I have more experience with them too!"

There was a lot of animosity at the table, and I did not like it. "Well, um," I tried to find something that wouldn't cause too much of a fuss. "Who made the eggs-"

"I did!" Pat chirped, "I've got lots! My aunt keeps chickens! I brought them over myself, oh so fresh." She smiled at my mother. "I wasn't sure if you had any."

"Eggs are easy. Hardly any work involved!" My mother countered. "I bought the milk!"

"Oh, right, milk." Pat rolled her eyes. "Pale. White. Uninteresting." She leaned back, "But what is breakfast without brown, smoking hot coffee?" She put her hands behind her head, her skin shining in the sunlight. "It's Colombian, by the way. I get it from my parents."

"Exotic!" I complemented. My mother scowled. I shut up. "Uhh," I looked over the plate. There was one thing they didn't mention yet. "Who made the bacon?"

Both women looked to me at the same time. "We both did honey." My mother answered with a smile. "You tell use which bacon you like best!" She looked to Pat with a sharp glare.

"Right." I gulped and looked at the bacon. I ate one piece and chewed in silence. The other women were not eating. They were simply waiting. Then I ate another piece. It crunched and crackled. "Well." They both were staring at me. "I, um, I think I like the lean bacon best actually. I like the crisp crunch-"

Pat gave a victorious smile to my mother. Mom's fists were clenched tight. "But, I mean, both are good!" I continued. "Neither is all that fatty! In fact, I think I could eat both-"

"The boy is hungry." Pat said. "Let him eat what he wants. He needs variety." My mother looked like she as holding her breath in anger. She stood up and walked away.

"Hey, where are you going Mom?" I stopped her.

She turned quickly and said, "I'll be back! Don't worry!" She put on a smile. "I just need to..." She paused in thought, "Grab something. I'll be right back." She rushed off to her room.

"What was that all about?" I shook my head and looked at my breakfast. There was still a whole lot there.

"I think your mom is a bit jealous." Pat sighed with a smile.

"Jealous?"

"I think she likes that you're cooped up here, eating her things and no one else's." She giggled and tapped the table, "But me? I know you. If you like pancakes one day, and grapefruits the next, I'm fine with that." She shrugged, "Boys will be boys. I'm fine sharing." She smiled at me and I smiled back, confused but happy that she was happy. I had been worried that being apart for so long would make us estranged, but Pat seemed determined to stay friends.

Suddenly, her smile turned into an expression of shock. She covered her mouth as her eyes widened and she looked towards the hallway. I turned and saw what had caused her expression to change. "It's not always about the food, but how you prepare it!" It was my mother. She was in an apron, and black panties. That was it. She winked. "Right?"

"Hey, Mom," I looked away awkwardly, "Really? In front of the neighbors?"

"Oh, she is essentially family right? At least, that is how she is acting. You've known her for so long." She sauntered over to Pat's side of the table, "I'm sure she feels right at home around you, right?" She gave a devious smile and turned to the side. at this angle the apron really did nothing, "So, I think when we cook lunch, she should wear an apron just like this too, I have an extra!" She goaded. I looked to Pat. Her brown skin was as red as it could get. "Unless," she leaned over, her apron was so high that it hardly covered any of her underwear, "You're embarrassed?" She pouted.