It had been several years since I had seen her, my now 45-year old but still youthful-looking mother. In the service, then at work, I had thought of her and, of course, corresponded with her. She had told me some of the details of the divorce of two years ago. Long before that, I had surmised, her relationship to my father had gone downhill. Now, back home again for a vacation, I had been talking with Mom about her life. I must admit that she turned me on. She was very tall, for a woman, almost as tall as I was. Her body was that of a big woman, but not overweight. Long ago, she had been a feminist protester and burned her bra. I noticed that she still went without one. She favored relatively short skirts and a loose blouse, with the top buttons open, leaving her large breasts free to move easily, as she moved. Even at home, she wore flattering shoes that showcased her the shapely calves of her long legs.
Hanging around the house now, seeing her body again, I began to remember my teenage masturbation sessions when she had been the porn star of my dreams, going down on me every night and often during the day. I would see her doing something, like vacuuming, and get a sense of her luscious breasts that I longed to suck, then go to room, close the door and strip naked. I would stretch out on the bed with the box of tissues nearby and close my eyes, feasting now on the dream lady going down on me, my Mom! After coming into the tissue, I used to dress, wash up and then go to the living room to watch TV or something. Often, it would not be long before she would be there, sitting down and unknowingly showing me her long shapely legs, bare and smooth, just made for her boy to lick -- or so it I day-dreamed. Pretending to watch TV, I would be watching my own private porn movie in which I would go to my mother and kneel before her and caress her long legs, then lick up her thighs until she spread for my teenage tongue to lick her waiting cunt. Hard-on showing, no doubt, I would then jump up and rush to my room once again and ... yes, strip down and jerk off as I completed the daydream by having my mom go down on me.
And here I was at home, years later, only me and mom, sitting there watching TV that evening not long after my return, ogling her shapely smooth legs ... and at first remembering the fantasy ... but then having it all over again. Except that I did not rush to my room.
My hard-on showed but mom looked immersed in the TV program. In fact, I had been so absorbed in my fantasy that I had hardly noticed that the cable TV movie had entered an erotic scene. I saw my mother flush a little but her eyes remain steady as we watched a young blonde girl fuck up and down on her lover, all in simulated cable-TV fashion, of course. The TV-scene switched and now the girl was under the boy as he plowed into her.
Mom shifted a bit and I saw more of her smooth white thighs. Her chest was moving more rapidly, drawing my attention to her substantial breasts covered by a white blouse with just a few buttons closed toward the bottom. I couldn't help surreptitiously rubbing my groin, slowly. Mom looked over once and then covered her mouth and I saw she was smiling, while also blushing.
When the movie was over, Mom looked over at me.
"I don't' know about you, but I could eat something -- how about it, like some pancakes -- a kind of midnight breakfast?"
"Hey, great idea, mom!" I said.
As she puttered around the kitchen, I sat at the table and watched her, becoming aroused again.
"Hey, mom, you're more beautiful than ever," I said, as she prepared the pancake batter. She looked back at me and grinned.
"Thanks, honey, I love that kind of compliment."
"Mom, maybe I shouldn't ask this -- tell me to shut up -- but have you ... do you go out with any men?"
"Honey, it's OK, ask me anything. Actually, since the divorce, I went out a couple of times, but the guys were ... not for me. So, for the past year, it's been just me and my shadow."
"Oh, mom, that's a shame. A woman like you ... I mean, you still have needs don't you?"
She blushed and was quiet.
"I'm sorry, mom, I guess I shouldn't..."
"No, no, it's OK, you're old enough to talk with about these things and who else have I got to talk with about them? Yes, I have needs, very much so, but they're just not being satisfied ... for the time being anyway."
The pancakes were done and we sat to begin eating. She had turned on the radio and some quiet melodies were playing in the background. I sipped my coffee and watched her eating.
She reached across the table and poured more syrup over my pancakes, spilling some on my fingers as she did so.
"Oops," she cried.
"Ok, mom," and for some reason, I don't know why, I stretched out my hand across the table, with syrup dripping from two fingers.
"Lick it off, mom," I said with a laugh.
She giggled but held my wrist and licked the syrup from one finger.
"That's nice, mom, I like that," I said.
She laughed cheerfully and then licked the other finger.
I took a chance, then, and things went in a direction I would never have expected.
As she finished licking the other finger, I took up the syrup bottle, reached over and poured more over my fingers.
She looked up at me with a strange look in her eyes. She blushed. Then renewed the licking, sweeping her tongue along each of the three syrupy fingers.
Just as she seemed about to quit, I poured a lot of syrup over my thumb and then took another chance: I left my hand in the center of the table rather than near her mouth.
"Come get it, mom," I said.
Her face flushed, she stood a little and then leaned over.
"Suck it, mom, suck it," I whispered.
Her mouth had been poised over it to lick it, and now, turning beet reed, she paused and then went down on it, sucking it. It was deep throat action.
"Oh, mom, I like the way you suck," I whispered.
Her whole seemed to tremble and I saw goosebumps on her bare arms. The sucking action slowed now and I had a sense that the meaning of the entire event had switched. She very slowly worked back up on the thumb, then removed it entirely from her mouth before going down on it again, and then repeated the action, taking the entire thumb into her mouth as far as it would go.
While she did this, I was ogling her body. Her blouse had been only buttoned on the last few places so that as she bent to suck me, I could see her voluptuous bare swollen breasts.
"Oh, mom, that's truly nice. I love your ... body. I love that sucking. Do you like it too?"
She nodded, her entire face and neck flushed red.
As she moved up from it and paused, I moved quickly to pour more syrup over it so that it dripped all down my thumb and she hastened to go down on it and suck it up.
As she sucked, my other hand was free and I reached under her blouse to feel the hot skin around her neck, then up toward her hot face. She looked at me with aroused eyes as I let my hand caress her face, then back to her neck, and, under her loose blouse, her shoulders. I reached further forward and began a gentle running of my fingers down her back. She closed her eyes and sucked deeply on my thumb.
"I love my mom to suck me. Do you love to suck your boy, mom?
She nodded, the flushed face turning even hotter.
I reached down the front of her blouse and was about to touch her breasts but first looked at her.
She opened her eyes, pausing in the sucking action and looked at me, then she abruptly stopped.
"This is crazy," she whispered as she threw off her blouse. "I can't stop now, it's too fantastic!"
She bent over the kitchen table again and held my hand, waiting for me to act. I took the syrup bottle in one hand and poured a good amount over the other hand, then put it down and poured from one hand on to the thumb of the other. As she swooped down to suck it, with my other hand I began to cover first one breast then the other with the syrup.
"Hmmm," she said as she sucked and licked the thumb, while I gently massaged the soft voluptuous breasts than dangled over the table.
Then she popped up again.
"Come over here," she commanded urgently.
