Logical Mom

I was born when my mother was 43. She is now 67. My mother was a farmer's wife, very loving but a practical, no-nonsense kind of woman. When my father died, mother sold the farm, bought a small lot in a mobile home park closer to town and put a double-wide trailer on it.

All of my siblings moved 300 miles or more away from our area so it was pretty much left up to me to see to the things mother needs as she never learn to drive: The grocery storer, shopping, doctor visits, grass cutting and general maintenance, bingo etc.

I attended a community college and became an accountant in our small town.

"How are things at home, William?" Mom asked as she fed me lunch one day recently.

"If you're referring to Pat and my sex life it hasn't changed much." I replied, continuing my complaints about being "cut off" after our second child was born. "I have tried to reason with her until I am blue in the face. Having sex once a month is a real drag."

"I told you I could have a talk with her." Mom offered for the umpteenth time. "She needs to understand that a man has his needs."

"I appreciate it, mom." I replied. "But you know you two don't get along as it is and she might stop giving it up once a month, then what would I do."

A month later, mom and I were driving home from the grocery store.

"You know my friend Elma whose trailer sets across from mine?"

"Yeah. The graying redhead, right?"

"We were talking the other day and she told me that she needed a little extra money to help with bingo. I told her about you and your little dilemma and she is agreeable with $50 a pop." Mom related to me. Remember me telling you about her practical, no-nonsense attitude.

"I swear, mom, you're a regular matchmaker. You want to set me up like you did Becky two years ago?" I questioned with an incredulous tone in my voice.

"I explained that to you many times! Your sister needed the money for the children. Her tightwad husband knows only how to make children he doesn't believe in buying them clothes and shoes." Mom replied angrily, not aimed at me but at Buddy, Becky's husband. "If you hadn't been so damn nosy you wouldn't even know about it.

"He was your blooming milkman!" I cried, then calmly after a moment returned to the conversation at hand. "Elma is about your age, isn't she?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, sonny boy." She chastised. "Actually, she's 61, considerably younger than me. I figured pussy is pussy regardless of the age. And to be quite honest with you she seemed to like the idea."

"Well, you used the right word, beggar." I replied, in a disheartened tone. "I would be hard put to come up with more than $50 a month, which would help little with my desires. And $50 a pop! Do either one of you know how much pussy goes for nowadays? And by the way, no offense on the age thing, older women happen to appeal to me"

"Hey, that was her price. Back when she was a young lass a piece of ass did cost $50. I figure, if you can come up with $50 a month I can pitch in $150 a month, for a while anyway. I know what your desires might say but once a week plus whatever Pat throws your way will help, don't you think. Are you sure that wife of yours is not screwing somebody?"

"If she is, I don't know where she would find the time. Who the hell knows."

"If you're on board....... that's funny as hell........ I'll set it up. You take a longer lunch hour on Wednesdays, right?" Mom said. "Oh! You will be using my spare bedroom. Elma says her son drops by unexpectedly at her place and would be a no-no and you will use protection, no exceptions!"

"And where are you going to be?" I asked a bit alarmed.

"In the living room or kitchen, I suppose." She replied with little concern in her tone. "I'll keep the TV turned up a bit."

Wednesday rolled around pretty quick. I was in a good mood all morning and my cock remained semi-hard as I tried to concentrate on the numbers. I arrived at my mother's trailer five minutes before noon, and as usual walked right in. My mother and Elma sat at the table having coffee. Elma smiled and said hello with no hint of shyness or nervousness. I sit down beside her and lifted the Coke that was always waiting for me.

"I hope you're doing well, Elma?" I asked making small talk.

"I am doing excellent young man." She replied, placing her hand on my thigh.

"If you two wish to skip the small talk, don't mind me. I don't need to remind you, William, you're stretching your lunch hour." Mom said.

"Mary is right." Elma said, as she stood, waiting for me to stand and then started towards the spare bedroom. I followed Elma without looking at my mother, studying her ass as I followed. I heard the volume of the TV rise a bit as I shut the door.

The head of the bed sat on the right wall and Elma stood to the right of the bed, her back to me as she began to remove her plaid shirt, bra, short and underpants. She was already barefoot.

I began to undress having not touched a button yet. Elma understood my tardiness and spread her arms slightly and slowly turned in a circle for my appraisal.

"You're pretty woman." I said. "I love red hair."

"You really think so?"

I didn't have to lie. She was noticeably shorter than my 5' 9" frame. Although her hair was graying amongst the red crop on her head, the light bush between her legs was vibrant enough to make my hardening cock twitch. Her bare ass was bubbly and firm enough for me to want to get my hands on it.

I saw her gaze lock onto my erection as I finished removing my briefs.The gaze did not shift until I had closed the distance between us. She lifted her head and I kissed her lightly before suckling on her right nipple. I toyed with her ass with my left hand. Her right hand coursed through my hair as her nipple became erect. It was an indication, I hoped, that Elma would be more active and passive in this affair.

"I wish we had more time." I apologized with a sigh. "But I can only stretch my lunch hour so much."

"I understand." She replied, moving to take a position on her back in the middle of the bed.

I caught a good shot of her fuzzy pussy and wanted to stop her at the edge of the bed, but decided to hold that for another time, after we got acquainted a bit.

I stepped quickly to the small bed table, extracted a condom packet and ripped it open and rolled it onto my cock. Elma watched but made no comment, which I took as agreement.

I entered the bed and maneuvered between her legs as she lifted them to accommodate. I moved in close, stroked her pussy with the tip of my cock to moisten it, and then worked my cock slowly inside of her.

"Aaassss! You should be proud of that cock." She lightly moaned.

I fucked her slowly for a few minutes as I sat on my legs holding her thighs, again studying her and watching my cock stroke inside of her. But, the clock ever in mind, I wasted no more time. I dropped over her and began to fuck her in earnest. Her legs tightened around me and her arms pulled me tight against her. Her moans and active ass, as I alternated my strokes sometimes shoved deep into her, confirmed that she was far from being a passive participant. Usually, a compassionate lover, I threw my compassion out the window and fucked her until I filled the rubber with my ejaculate, moaning my completion.

My compassion returned, knowing she had not come, so I rolled off of her and promptly put my middle finger to her clit. Her moans promptly returned and became more intense. Her breathing became labored as I fingered her and thought about how much I would have liked to fill her belly with my cum.

"I'm! I'm! I'M COMING!!" She cried, as the orgasm swept over her.

We did not hug or kiss as we lay long moments, she catching her breath. I eventually left the bed and pulled a couple of tissues from a box to wrap the condom in and clean my cock. Elma began to dress.

"I have to pee." She informed me and left the bedroom.

I finished dressing and found Elma gone when I returned to the kitchen/living room. I opened the trash-bin, dropping the condom and tissues in, and began to wash my hands at the kitchen sink.

My mother had dropped the volume on the TV and looked over her shoulder at me.

"I'll see you tomorrow for lunch?" She queried.

"I'll be here." I replied, and left.

The months went by and accept for a few Wednesdays I fucked Elma once a week. She was willing to get on her knees and let me fuck her from behind which I did often. Mom put $50 in the drawer with the condoms every Wednesday I didn't pay myself. I wondered but never asked mom if she and Elma talked about our meetings. I did figure that they had to.

A day came that Elma and I ran into each other at the local McDonald's and sat down to eat together. The small talk was easy though we almost never had small talk in the bedroom. We even laughed a bit.

I noticed Elma looking around our area of the restaurant. Most of the tables were empty. She leaned over towards me.

"Your mother has been watching us." She whispered.

"Watching us? You mean in the bedroom?" I whispered back.

"Yes!" She whispered back emphatically. "I've seen her cracked the door. You've been too busy to notice but she's done it three or four times recently. I confronted her and she just said she was just curious and that she wasn't dead sexually she just didn't have a man. She said that you were beginning to find it hard financially. Is that true?"

"Yes. It's always been a little difficult." I replied, not knowing how to answer her.

"I like you a lot, William." She said apologetically. "You know I enjoy being with you. You care about me coming. If you could come up with a little bit every now and then, I think we could still meet. I trust that you will do what you can. We all have our problems."

"Things are a little tight. That's all." I defended. "Let's keep things like they are for right now and we'll talk later."

Two days later was Wednesday. I showed up as I always did at mother's trailer. As I walked in, I did not see Elma sitting at the table.

"Did you see the car over at Elma's house?" My mother asked as I came in and sat down at the Coke that was always waiting.

"Yes. Whose car is it?" I queried.

"It belongs to her son, Dan." Mom replied. "Usually he's here on Mondays and sometimes Fridays. Needless to say, Elma will not be coming over today. Not in time anyway."

"Of all days!" I said disgustedly, looking out of the window at Elma's trailer.

"I've been thinking about it all morning. Did you say something to Elma about the finances?"

"Yes. I told you it couldn't go on forever. And there's something else you should know." She replied, walking over to a little white box that looked like a radio and pushed a button, holding up her finger to her lips to ensure my silence.

I walked over to the box and leaned down trying to figure out what it was I was hearing.

I only listened for a few long moments before my mother hit the button to cut it off.

"What the hell was that?"

"I would say it is bedsprings. And from what Elma has told me, it would be Dan screwing her."

"When did she tell you this?" I asked skeptically.

"She didn't tell me voluntarily. We put these boxes in the about a year ago so we could keep an ear out for each other at night. She has a habit of leaving hers on while I cut mine off during the day. I heard them and confronted her. She told me just before I set you up with her. It's been going on for three or four years. According to her, without her willingness. But I disagree, having listened to them on occasion. He threatened her with leaving her alone in her old age with no help. The Son of a Bitch."

"Do they ever talk?"

"Yeah, sometimes they talk, moan and groan. That's why I said that Elma is not all that unwilling. Either that or she's just trying to hurry him along a bit to get him off of her. I figure today she knows she should be over here screwing you. That's why I insisted on you using a condom."

Mom reached over and hit the on button on the box and we listened to the sound of the bedsprings for a few more moments. She hit the button again and it went silent.

"When did Elma tell you I said something about the finances?" Mom asked.

"I saw her at McDonald's and we ate together." I replied. "And by the way, she mentioned that you have been spying on us? Watching us screw?"

"The bitch!" Mom spat. "She deserves to get cut off. I was curious and I've been thinking about things."

"Cut out?" I inquired. "Thinking about what things?"

"Come with me, William." She directed, walking off towards the back of the trailer to her bedroom. I followed.

Mom turned to face me as I entered her bedroom.

"I want you to undress, William." She directed, wiggling her finger at me. "Don't argue with me. I didn't know exactly how to tell you or go about this but right now you're upset and wanting some pussy bad. I've always taken care of you, haven't I? And watching you screw Elma got me thinking about your dad screwing me. I used to like it much of the time. I'm going to give you the pussy you want and we'll see if I still like it. Now get undress we only have your lunch hour.

No passion, just common sense was mom's way of dealing with things. I'd been thinking about pussy all morning and it kept me from arguing about the subject. I soon stood bare-assed waiting for the next command.

"Well, I'll give you this, William." She said staring at my rigid, erect cock. "You got a lot more down there than your dad had, bless his soul. I kept him happy giving him pussy any time he wanted it. Pussy and then good food is the road to a man's heart. I had my tubes tied when you came along so there's no worry there."

With that said, she pulled the flowered ankle length, modest, sack like dress over her head. It was the mainstay of her day to day dress for as long as I could remember. Discarding it, she pushed the bloomers down off her hips, letting them drop and stepping out of them, toeing them against the wall.

I guess any man of 24 years would have found it difficult to find mom to be his dream girl. She was 5'10", big boned, guessing 30 or 40 pounds overweight, flat assed, a pudgy belly, big sagging tits and thick thighs. Her short boyish cut hair was all gray with the hair between her legs was a bit darker but extremely lacking in lushness. But the one thing I had to give mom, she was loving and caring and her nurturing instincts was going to get me some pussy. And I was horny.

Watching mom pull down the bedding, and then kneeing herself into position on her back in the middle of the bed brought my cock to full attention. I needed no prompting to join her in the bed, maneuvering between her legs as she struggled to lift them and give me access between her thighs.

"I never have enough time to do things right." I complained.

"We'll make time next time."

I took hold of my cock and began probing for the entrance to her pussy. Finding it, I pushed into her as she wiggled her ass under me.

"William! Oh! Oh! Damn that's good!" She exclaimed. "If your father had had a cock like yours!"

I began right off the bat to fuck her with an aggressive rhythm.

"WWOOooooooo! WWoooooooooo!" She began to bawl. I gave a moment's thought that if she continued bellowing like that that she might be heard should someone be close to the trailer. I gave it only a moment's thought. Every time I shoved my cock deep into her she gave out with another.

"WWOoooooooooooo!"

There was a need to ask if what I was doing to her was good. There was no way anything that created that reaction could be pain and be tolerated. Quickly, I began to lose myself in trying to fuck her to death. The more aggressive my rhythm the more boisterous she became. I felt like my cock was 10 feet long and I totally forgot the less than attractive woman under me and that she was my mother. I was so intoxicated by her boisterous sounds that I lost any desire to come. I wanted to make her bellow forever.

Mom was breathing heavy and we were both moist in our sweat. Her squealing became lower in volume and her ass had pretty much stopped trying to thrust back.

"William, have mercy, please!" She pleaded. "You're killing me!"

Her words brought me back to reality and I began to concentrate on filling her pussy with my cum. When my cock jerked, I pushed it in her deep and only shoved against her pussy with each eruption, keeping it deep. She howled and then started sucking in air.

As with Elma, mom had not come. As with Elma, I moved off of mom and to her side and brought my finger to bear on her clit. The only exception was once or twice I pushed my middle finger into her pussy to coat it with my cum and smear it on mom's clit.

I felt mom still and a deep groan grew within her as the orgasm gripped her, followed by her body quaking violently. Finally, her body relaxed and she laid still catching her breath.

I kissed her on the cheek and rolled from the bed and moved to the bathroom where I began to wash my cock in the sink. The sink was situated so we could see each other and we silently looked at each other as I lathered my cock.

I dressed in silence.

"We'll talk later" I stated. "I guess I need to get back to work."

"Have a good rest of the day, William." She said. "I hope you feel better and can concentrate on the numbers. I sure as hell feel better."

After that afternoon, mom gives me pussy whenever I desire, which is often. Doing chores for her is my excuse to the wife for the evenings I spent with mom. We make time for foreplay. Mom's participation varies. Sometimes, if she is not feeling up to a tumble in the bed she will lift her dress, bend over the kitchen table or bathroom sink, and let me have a go. Her ass being flat makes fucking her this way easy and satisfying. I offer to wear a condom on such occasions, to keep her from having to wash up, but she told me she likes the thought of my cum in her. She never hesitates a moment. In an effort to express my appreciation, I ate her pussy one evening much to her fascination and pleasure. I now do that often. And we kiss other than when just saying goodbye.

Mother and I convinced Elma to confront her son, which she did, resulting in him giving her spending money and such. Happily, she doesn't charge me when I fuck her at least twice a month. She asks weird and suspicious questions sometimes, but she has only her suspicions. I think she would be supportive but we're not willing to admit anything.

I no longer nag my wife, making us a much more happy couple.