Mom and the Bad Blind Date

I let myself into the house as quietly as possible. The lights were out downstairs but when I entered the small foyer I saw the faint light from Mom's room upstairs causing a weird shadow on the stairs.

"Cindy?" my mother's voice called out expectantly.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm home." I hung up my coat and slowly began climbing the stairs to my room.

"So how was it?" Mom asked behind her half open bedroom door.

"Oh, y'know,OK." I answered in my tired voice.

I went to my room and unzipped my dress and kicked off my high heels. I looked in the mirror, deep into my own eyes, and sighed. "Cindy," I said to myself, "No more blind dates." In my bra and panties, I walked to the bathroom to wash off the makeup, brush out my hair, and prepare to cry myself to sleep in my own comfortable bed. I was bent over the sink with a washcloth wiping off the foundation, lipgloss, mascara, and eyeliner I had applied so carefully only a few hours before. The sound of fast rushing water and the soft moistness of the washcloth against my face felt good. Safe. Comforting.

"So tell me all about it!" my mother's excited voice came at me from behind.

"Oh, Mom," I sighed, bent over the sink, "There's nothing to tell."

I glanced back at her through the vanity mirror. Mom was holding a tall cocktail glass in one hand, leaning against the bathroom door frame, smiling at me with twinkling eyes. Jeez, even in her early fifties and slightly drunk, Mom looked beautiful. I was so unlike her. I put the washcloth up to my face to hide my tears.

"Cindy, baby, don't cry," she said as she approached me in the small bathroom.

I threw the washcloth down in the sink. I turned to face her. "I'll never be as pretty as you, Mom, I know it, you know it...and apparently a lot of guys know it too," I said as I broke down in sobs onto her shoulder.

She held me as I cried, holding her arms for support, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole - or at least my bed - instead of this humiliation. She rubbed my shoulders and back as I cried. My mother, the former small town beauty queen, who still had all the confidence of her beauty even though my father - her husband - had walked out on us twelve years ago when I was just a kid. I had to compete with that all my life. The divorcee had plenty of gentleman callers over the years while her daughter went from one short-term boyfriend to another. Even now, as an adult with my own decent job and money of my own, and a twenty three year age advantage, I still felt the oppression of being only the second prettiest woman in our own house. I didn't hate Mom. I just wish it was me with a constant platoon of men after me.

"Baby, baby, baby," she said softly in my ear as we held each other.

Her comforting voice and my cathartic cry had brought me back to a place that was close to normal. I looked up at her sheepishly and smiled crookedly while I wiped the last tear from the corner of my eye. I half-choked a laugh and said, "Thanks, Mom."

She took my hand and led me out of the bathroom. "C'mon, I have some vodka in my room. You need a drink."

Her bedroom was the former marital bedroom of her wedded years, large, with a king size bed with flowery comforter, big white pillows, a wall mounted TV that was flashing some show in muted tones, a red velvet loveseat, and a long dresser that doubled as Mom's bar. She took the tall smoked-glass bottle of vodka and poured us two tall drinks of straight potato-juice on the rocks. She held her arm out and I took the glass. It felt good, chilled, and the astringent vodka hit my nostrils before I took a long sip.

Mom took a long pull from her tall glass and untied her white robe as she asked, "So the date was a no-go?"

I watched her as she placed her robe over the back of the loveseat. She was wearing a shortie nightgown in purple satin. As with everything Mom wore, it showed her off to maximum advantage. Boy, she was something, I marveled at the sight of her. Full frosted blonde hair, busty with a straight line of cleavage up the center, wide hips and the nightgown cut her at just below the confluence of torso and thigh. And still the beauty queen in the facial features with high cheekbones, big eyes, bright white teeth, and, well, yeah, a sensuous mouth, even if she was my Mom. She sat on the loveseat and patted the empty place next to her for me to sit.

"How did it end, Cindy?" she asked, leaning back into the loveseat cushions with her drink up to her lips.

"We might go out again, I guess." I answered. "If he calls me."

Mom swallowed the vodka and said breezily, "He'll call, baby, don't worry."

I took my own long pull at the vodka. I know not to get my hopes up. Mom wrapped a free arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to her. We sat like that for while, silently sipping the straight vodkas. I relaxed into her side, taking another sip of the vodka. Mom's hand rubbed my shoulder in a consoling gesture.

"Maybe I should get my own place, I can afford it." I said, giving voice to a thought that I hadn't mouthed before.

"No, sugar, don't leave your Mommie." she said and she pulled me closer to her. "I need you, baby girl. I'm lonely too, honey."

Mother? Lonely? That was a new one to me. She seemed to have a date almost every weekend. "What do you mean lonely?" I asked incredulous. "Guys are breaking the door down for you."

Mom took another deep swallow of the vodka. "I'm tired of these guys in town, the same old thing all the time, fighting off the creeps, keeping the married ones at bay. I haven't had a relationship for years, if you haven't noticed," she said.

"Hmmm, true," I admitted, drinking more vodka. Mom, for all her boyfriends, never seemed to stick with anyone for long.

Mom pulled me closer to her as she sighed from her confession. My left cheek was now pressed against her bosom. Mom's soft breasts were nice against my face, so recently wracked with tears of self-pity. I raised my glass to take another sip of vodka sideways as I let the warmth of Mom's breasts comfort me.

I felt Mom's arm move position from my shoulder to the top of my brassiere. In one smooth motion, Mom slid her hand down a little further to cup my breast. She began a slow circular motion over my bra cup. I heard her sigh. I noticed her thighs part a little as we snuggled like this. I tentatively laid a free hand on her thigh. When I felt no psychic resistance from her, I pushed my face into her soft breasts. Mom used the hand that had been circling my breast to slip down my bra strap. I kissed Mom's breast through the purple satin nightie and moved my hand further up her thigh. Mom put her hand over my now bared breast. Her touch was soft and loving, and it emboldened me to reach my hand just an inch or two higher on her thigh. I wasn't surprised that she wasn't wearing panties. I felt her pussy on my fingertips.

"Oh, honey girl," Mom breathed in a slow whisper.

I sat up a little to get my face in her cleavage as I touched her pussy with more forwardness. "Mommie," I sighed as I licked the satin material covering her glorious breasts and felt the moistness between her legs with my exploratory hand.

We both made small shouts of joy simultaneously and came upright to look into each others' faces. We kissed each other at the same moment. Mom began tearing at the nightie to get it off her as I pulled my brassiere off and threw it across the room. Mom stood up, naked before me, looking down at me on the loveseat with eyes that would have burned a hole in solid wood. I whipped off my panties and stood with her. We embraced and kissed deeply and touched each other, knowing there was only one place for us - the huge bed in the center of the room.

Still holding the awkward kiss-embrace, we stumbled to the bed and fell on it in a heap of nakedness, holding, kissing and groping each other. Feeling Mom's tongue in my mouth was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced. As I cupped her damp pussy with my hand and felt us tongue-kissing each other, her magnificent breasts pressed against me, I realized that this is what I wanted for most of my life. It was right before me all those years: those breasts, that face, that hot, sexy body that I could never live up to, was mine all along, if I had only admitted it to myself. Now I had her. Her beauty was my beauty. And I wanted all of it.

With a forcefulness that surprised me, I threw Mom down on the bed and got my face between her outstretched legs. I looked at her pussy. Mom was glistening with wetness. I buried my face into her cunt and ate my mother with an instinctual ferocity. I had played with women during college. I had eaten strange pussy in drunken dormitory sessions. But this was different. I loved my Mom. And I would show her how much I loved her tonight by bringing this gorgeous woman who meant so much to me to a crashing orgasm. I showered her pussy with my mouth. I went deep. I found her bullet and never got off it until Mom was screaming in orgasm. And when she was finally done with the screaming and thrashing around on the bed, I licked her softly until I heard her whimper.

Coming up from my supine position between her legs, we looked into each others' eyes. She smiled and wiped a tear away. I smiled at her too.

"Not such a bad blind date, after all, was it Mom?"