When I woke up, a little hung-over, I was unsure how much I remembered correctly. Had mother REALLY given me instruction on how to fuck her next time?!? Me 30, her 50, fucking?
And did she really confuse me with her dad? That horny old goat? Now that I thought about from an adult perspective, his second wife was pretty hot. And a tall redhead, like mom! He must have married Bernice when he was about 40, which meant that he had many years of fuck-pleasure from her. Now that I thought back, Bernice had a pretty sweet rack and ass, and it made me wonder what she was like when they'd been drinking. And they liked drinking, as I remember it. Their speech was pretty slurred at the end of a family dinner, when he'd say, "Lamb chop, time to go home and continue the party." NOW I got what everyone was laughing about. Hell, I'd fuck every hole of hers if I had the chance.
Thinking about Gramps fucking Bernice made me horny. I sat down at my computer and pulled up a porn site with streaming video, and typed in "Redhead MILF." I pushed my underwear down to my ankles. But then I knew I'd need lube. I kicked off my underwear and went to the kitchen, went to the counter and slathered some butter from butter dish onto my left hand. That left my right hand free to use the computer. I went back to the living room, slathering my cock with the butter that was melting in my hand. I sat in my chair and surveyed my choices. One of the clips was a redhead in lingerie who looked a little like mom. Just the ticket.
I moved the video clip forward to the five minute mark. Fuck all that pretend acting set-up. Let's see if that MILF has anything. She did. She reminded me a hell of a lot of mom. Mom's 50, and this slut was maybe 40, but that was just fine. That would be mom about ten years ago, when I was 20 and in college. I used to come home about once a month (mostly to drag home my laundry and have mom do it). I spent half my time up in my room, looking at "cougar" porn and jerking off. Sometimes I'd catch a look at Mrs. Beechen, next door. She was about my mom's age, 40. Sometimes she'd sun herself on one of those cheap folding lawn chairs that lay flat. She'd wear a tight bikini that didn't cover much. I'd get out the jar of Vaseline from the top back of my closet shelf, sit on my bed where I was out of direct line of sight of my window, lean forward so I could see Mrs. Beechen's round full ass staining at the fabric of the bikini, and I'd jerk myself for however long she'd sunbathe. When she sat up, I knew she'd go back into her house. But that gave me a view of her bulging tit, and I'd jerk faster and shoot my load while I could still see her.
Mrs. Beechen. Mommy. Was it the experience that drove me wild? The sense that they were proper moms who knew how to please and control a man?
The video on my computer was pretty hot. I scrolled forward to see if there was any anal action. Luckily, there was. Only then did I pay attention to the soundtrack. The woman was saying, "Put it in my ass, son, put it in my ass!" That's the ticket. My cock stiffened. It was like a replay of last night. A HUGE cock slid into her waiting ass. I gripped my cock tight and slid my hand up and down furiously. "Yes, son, yes! OOOOOOh, you fill mommy's hole so big," said the video mommy. She thrust her perfect, round, wide ass back against him. I exploded cum all over my chest in five huge spurts.
Yes, I was definitely going to have to fuck mommy's ass again.
I wondered if I'd hear from her during the week. I didn't.
On Thursday, I gave her a call around noon. I knew she'd be there. She's a creature of her routines. She never does anything before noon, except on Sunday. "Hey, mom," I said, did you want to do brunch after church on Sunday?" I pretended I didn't have anything else in mind, but she HAD asked for more action on Sunday.
"Oh, Sweetheart, that would be so nice. Why don't I just swing by on my way to mass, and then after church we'll have brunch?"
Not what I had in mind, but fine. Let's see what the slut had in mind.
On Saturday, I went to the barber and got all fresh and nice. Mom always whined that I didn't keep up my appearance. Sunday morning, I knew she'd be there about 10, a half hour before mass, so I waited by the front window. When I saw her car pull up, I popped a Viagra. I didn't wait for her to get out of the car; I opened the door and went straight out and walked around to the passenger side.
"Oh, junior, don't you look so nice?" she greeted me.
"You look lovely, mother, " I responded, sliding into the car.
I wasn't kidding. I hadn't seen her so dressed up in ages. She'd obviously been to the hairdresser's this week. Her red hair was as vivid as if she was twenty, and piled on her head in a massive pile of curls and wisps. I wanted to plunge my hands into it, grab a hold, and yank her face down into my crotch. Her satiny green dress was just a little tight in the bust, shoving ample cleavage up into the V-shaped neck. I wanted to lube my cock and plunge it into that slit of welcoming white flesh. She was wearing pearls. She was wearing black nylons. She was wearing white high heels with VERY high heels. Fuck me pumps to church? I couldn't wait to see her ass, high in the air and ripe for all to see, strolling up the aisle.
When we got to St. Anthony's, the parking lot was half full. We were a few minutes early. Mommy liked it that way. That meant we didn't have to sit in the back. Mommy led the way, and she very slowly walked up the main aisle, fuck-me-pumps clattering on the hard tile floor. I swear, every man in that church got a fat load of wood, because very one of them was staring at her ass as it passed by going up the aisle. When we go to the second row, she paused. "Junior, go in ," she said. I did. That put her directly on the aisle, as it always did. Suddenly, I understood. For all those years, she'd gone to the second row, on the middle aisle. That meant that every time she knelt down, half the men in the place had a clear view of her ass, thrust high in the air. Mom wasn't there to pray! She was there to make sure that none of the men did.
Father Ambrose was the priest. His sermon was some boring thing about giving back to the community. Funny thing, it seemed to me that the only person he was ever looking at was mom. And not mom. Her tits. She smiled the whole time in a tight little smile. Was Father Ambrose thinking about greasy up his cock and titty-fucking mom? No way!
When it got to communion, mom got up. I was still sitting. "Aren't you going," she whispered? "No," I said quietly. I didn't get to confession yesterday. "Well, that was foolish of you," she said, a smile on her face, if you die today you'll go to hell, won't you?" She stepped out of the pew and went up, knelt down, and opened her mouth to Father Ambrose. I noticed that he pause a long time and looked at that mouth when he to her for communion.
When it was all done and we stood to go, I said, "Mom, where do you want to have brunch?" "Oh, dear, I'm not all that hungry, and some things are best not done on a full stomach."
She didn't elaborate on what she needed to do, but I hoped it involved my cock and her ass.
"Same for me," I said. "Just a coffee, then?"
"Please, that would be grand," she said.
We went over to Starbucks. As with church, every guy in the place got hard looking at her ass, pushing high by her fuck-me-pumps. When we went to the counter, there was some 20-something slacker guy. His eyes about exploded when he looked at her. I could see that he was her wet-dream come true. Mom just wanted a black coffee, with two shots of espresso. "I need something to wake me," she said. I don't recall what I had.
When we got the coffee and sat down, mom looked right into my eyes. "I hear that Paula will be home to see her folks in a few weeks. She's on summer break from that college where she teaches." She paused.
"Oh?" I replied.
"She's a lovely girl. Never r married, I hear from Eileen." That would be Mrs. Beechen. "Very pretty girl."
"Oh, as pretty as her mother," I asked.
"Even more," said mom. "How about I have Paula and the Beechens to dinner and have you come, too?"
"I'd like that , mom," I said, but I really wasn't thinking about Paula.
