For the next month Greg waited for his mother to call or text him, but it never came. He was confused, he figured that by now she would have gone through at least one of her episodes, but there had been nothing. One part of him was relieved while the other was almost torn in two.
For Greg the four weeks had been both painful and enlightening. It had forced him to examine his own feelings for his mother. Besides the fact the woman could fuck like a freight train, and drain his balls like no one ever had before; he slowly began to realize there was something else.
This woman who had cared for him, nurtured him, and taught him how to survive in life; for once he had been able to help HER. By Friday he sat and stared at the family photo he kept on the small end table by his couch. He looked at the smile on his mother's face as she wrapped her arms around a much younger image of himself on one side and his father on her other side.
No, he thought, there was something else here and he needed to know what. He rose from the couch and grabbed his keys. It was a little past noon when he pulled into the parking lot of his mothers' work. Maybe he could convince her to get some lunch, he thought, see where things went. He just needed to try and talk this out with her
His mother had taken a part time job at a small florist arranging bouqets. It wasn't that she needed the money, Greg had quickly realized it had been more to occupy her mind after his father had passed.
When the owner told him his mother had called in sick it had startled him. She hadn't said anything about not feeling well, but then she hadn't been talking to him much.
Now even more concerned he headed over to her house. The first thing he noticed was the absence of her little ford focus in the driveway. Letting himself in with his key, he was shocked to find the house in total dissary. There were dishes on the counter not washed, laundry piled on the floor by the washing machine not touched. This was not his mother; eve without the manic periods she was a fastidious housekeeper, Greg couldn't count the number of times his mother had harangued him about the condition of his apartment.
No, something was wrong and Greg felt his heart sink as he searched through the house; and as he expected no mom. Reaching his mothers' bedroom he found the room basically unchanged. Just as he turned to leave his eye caught something on the floor opposite the bed. Stepping over he reached down and picked up a long fat cylinder.
Jesus, he thought, it's her vibrator. Did she drop it here? Then he saw the mark on the otherwise smooth wall. No, he realized; she had not dropped it, she had flung it across the room from her bed.
Greg started to toss the toy back onto the floor, but he couldn't help himself as he brought the toy to his face. His nostrils immediately filled with the pungent odor of his mother and he felt a surge of blood fill his cock. Trying to shake the sudden rush of hormones, Greg cast the toy onto the unmade bed and hurried back down the stairs towards the living room.
His cock was still aching as he passed the pile of laundry once again. This time his eyes were drawn to the black lace panties peeking out from the pile. Oh fuck, he thought as a shudder went through him.
Almost in a daze he reached down and pulled the cloth free; he could feel the crust dried in the gusset and it sent a shiver down his spine. Raising the cloth he again inhaled, his mind swirling as the scent of his mother filled his brain. He felt his cock jerk in his jeans, the memory of that tight pussy wrapped around him sending another surge into his now rock hard dick.
Fuck, if I keep this up I'll cum in my damn pants, he thought. He needed to get a grip he growled at himself. He threw the panties back onto the pile, turning away.
His first impulse was to just leave, but then something deeper made him stop. No, he almost fumed. What the hell was going on? He wanted to know, he needed to know if she was all right. Easing himself onto the couch he turned on the television and settled in to wait.
As he waited, Greg could feel his still hard cock throb, calling for him. He had to fight back the urge to open his jeans and jerk off, the thought his mother could walk in and discover him was the only thing that stopped him.
The nearly hour drive home gave Gayle more time than she really wanted. At least her mind was somewhat clearer now, she thought. She could feel the semen slowly soaking into the gusset of her panties as she shifted in the seat. God, I didn't even ask his name, she realized in shame.
She gripped the wheel tighter as the miles passed away. This time she had gone during the daylight, figuring the chances of being duped by some policeman was less. The bar was a whole hour away, ensuring no one there knew who she was. It had been almost too simple. Sit and have a slow drink, find some men who didn't have a woman around them, then simply put herself out.
The bathroom at the back of the bar had been dirty and the smell of urine still clung to her nose as she drove. God, what's happening to me, she almost screamed. She had bent over and taken not one, but two cocks one right after the other. Still her belly ached as if she had never had sex, while the hunger seemed less I her mind, now it was her body that seemed in need.
At one point, she had actually felt herself nearing an orgasm, but when the image of Greg had popped in her mind, her horror had driven the sensations so far away, they never came back.
She shook her head to clear some of the thoughts. No, she thought, this was the best way, and she would live with the ache. She knew that the only other alternative was to call...him. She had given into that temptation once, she couldn't take advantage of her son again.
Not that the sex hadn't been good, she thought. God, not good, it had been fucking fantastic, she shuddered at the memory. She hadn't been taken like that since losing her husband. That fact alone terrified Gayle, the intensity that had enveloped her that night on the weight bench. The ferocity of her orgasm as her son had ravaged her.
For the last month she had tried to fight off the hunger and need. The depression had actually been easy. It was when her body went crazy with need that she had resorted to long bouts with her toys. Except that every time just before her body had erupted in pleasure, it had been the face of her son that had filled her mind.
It wasn't fair to Greg, she thought; asking him to behave like a total animal just to satisfy her own physical needs. No, this had been better; even if less satisfying.
As she pulled into the driveway, she looked at the car sitting now beside hers. Oh God, he's here, another shudder coursed through her. Was he spying on her? She felt a twinge of anger at the thought. Feed on that, she told herself. Better righteous anger than what had happened last time.
Greg looked up when his mother stepped through the front door. Oh fuck, he thought. His eyes took in the mini skirt that was so short it damn near showed her panties and the tight tank top she wore under. The material stretched as if in protest over her full breasts, her nipples standing out like two pencil erasers against the cloth.
Gayle tried to suppress the shudder as she watched her son rise from the couch. He looked like a tiger about to pounce, his muscles ripples through his light shirt. Her eyes dropped for an instant to the bulge in the front of his jeans. Get a fucking GRIP, she screamed at herself.
"Where were you?" was all Greg could think to ask as he felt blood trying to surge back into his cock just at the sight of his mother.
"Out" was all Gayle said curtly.
"The woman at the flower shop said you were sick." Greg said calmly.
"I was, I'm fine now." Gayle tossed her purse and keys on the small stand beside the couch.
Gayle saw the flash of anger in her sons' eyes, it sparked something inside her. Placing her hands on her hips, she stared down at him.
"What?" she demanded. "Did you come to take care of your sick needy mommy" she said harshly. "Well skip it I already took care of it."
Gayle was shocked when her son rose off the couch, his hand shooting out to grab her bare arm. She stared at his hand a moment then back at his face.
"What did you do?" Greg hissed. His words sparked that frustration and anger in her belly.
"Why, do you want to fuck your sick mother." She told him. "To late, I just got the shit fucked out of me by two guys in a fucking bar" she spat back. "As if it's any business of yours." She threw at him.
