Most people have wonderful childhood memories of their mother. I did not. Growing up, I remember how my mother was a relentless harpy whose sole purpose was to torment my life and that of my father. She barely had any time for me, except to criticize any aspect of my life. The same went for my father. I saw little appreciation for his efforts to please her. Slaving away at a middle-management job, my dad could never satisfy Mother's financial demands, the extent of which ranged from clothes, jewelry, and even an apartment in Manhattan which he could little afford. No matter what he provided, his efforts were never enough. Memories of my dad were of his desperate attempts to hold back the financial flood my mother had created.
In a way, I understand why Dad did it. Mother was quite attractive. Pretty and charming, Mother's looks far overshadowed Dad's less attractive features. She was a petite 5'2" brunette with piercing blue eyes and a body that matched. Anytime that Mother was out, men noticed, especially when she wore her expensive tailored dresses that snuggly fit every curve. I can still remember how her c-cup breasts would fill any blouse, and her shapely legs perfectly accented her teardrop-shaped ass.
Nevertheless, Mother's financial demands on Dad took their toll. I saw him slowly fade away until he had a heart attack at the age of forty-five. Just before he passed away, he made me promise to take care of Mother, a promise to which I reluctantly agreed. Unlike my father, my love for her was barely over the level of "yes, she is my mother. So what?"
After college, I joined a financial firm which eventually led to a lucrative position with a hedge fund. My paychecks were significant, but the hours were brutal. I found myself working six to seven days a week, often as much as 12-14 hours per day. The long hours left little for a social life even as it provided more than enough for a New York apartment as well as an eventual summer home on Long Island. I dated seldom, finding only enough time in the week for work.
But the money was good, so good that I was able to provide Mother with an apartment in the Upper East Side of Manhattan and a $2,000 per week allowance. Most people would have been grateful and lived within their means but not my mother. She continually complained about how little money she had and that I needed to provide more. After a while, I had become a surrogate husband and replacement for my dad for her demands and berating. Nevertheless, I continued to help her as much as I could without any hint of appreciation from her. I had been yoked like a beast of burden to Mother, whether I liked it or not. That is until one December.
I was sitting in my office looking forward to a bit of time off during the holidays when my secretary rang my phone. "There is someone with Tiffany's who needs to talk with you," she announced. I picked up the phone to find a manager looking for my approval for Mother to purchase a $25,000 necklace. She had assured him that I would stand behind her purchase since her credit card had been declined. I refused.
Within minutes, Mother was phoning me. "Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?!," she spewed. She then continued to scold me by telling me how little I provided for her. I allowed her to continue ranting until I finally told her I would meet her at her apartment after work. I hung up the phone before she had a chance to resume her tirade.
Around 6 p.m., I knocked on her door. After letting me inside, Mother stomped to the couch and plopped down. She was wearing a steel gray dress with matching heels. As in her usual style, the dress fit her precisely. Even if she was my mother, I could not help but notice that her ass was as shapely as any 25-year-old. She was prepared to continue her barrage when I cut her off.
Launching my own counteroffensive, I said, "You must be the most ungrateful bitch of a mother that has ever walked this earth. I am providing you with a generous allowance on top of an apartment. How can you be this unhappy or ungrateful?"
We went back and forth about her finances and her demand that she needed more money to fit her lifestyle.
"Young man, I gave birth to you. You owe this to me. You are making hundreds of thousands of dollars per year, and all you provide to your only Mother is a measly $2,000 per week?"
"No, Mother," I responded, "I have given you all am going to give you. Since you think this is too little, perhaps you should try earning your own money. As of right now, I am cutting you off. You want more, then earn it just like I have."
Instantly, her face flushed bright red. "You know I cannot. Your father left me with almost no money and now you are cutting me off? What do you propose that I do? Be a secretary? You know that I cannot make that kind of money!" She practically screamed those last words.
"Then," I suggested with a smirk, "you can be a high-priced call girl. I am sure you have all the skills that the job requires. After all, I could have had a full-time mistress for the amount that I am paying you."
Placing her hands on her hips, she said, "Fine. I will be a call girl. Is that what you want your mother to be? How are you going to explain that young man?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I do not have to explain anything. That is a choice that you must make."
Mother tilted her head and pursed her lips together. "Very well, then that's what I will do. Just consider me open for business. I'll start with blowjobs for $200. Well, how about it? What if I sucked my own son's dick for $200? I might as well since he no longer cares about what happens to me."
I had heard various versions of this melodramatic play before, so I was not persuaded. "It makes no difference to me. Go right ahead." I walked over to the couch, reached into my wallet, and threw down two 100-dollar bills into her lap.
For the first time in my life, Mother was at a loss for words. For several moments she just looked at me. I had called her bluff, and she did not know how to respond. I decided to push back even further.
"Apparently, you need some assistance. Here let me help you." Reaching down, I unzipped my fly and pulled out my cock. As I did, Mother's eyes widened. I could tell she was not expecting me to go this far. She just sat there with her mouth open in astonishment.
"Mother, do I need to explain the process to you? I paid my money. Get on with it," I demanded. I did not expect Mother to do anything, but I wanted to prove my point.
Mother looked up into my face and then back down to my cock. I could tell her eyes were welling up with tears, most likely from anger that I had not caved in. For several moments, I just stood there with my cock dangling just in front of her.
"Fine," was all she said before she unexpectedly reached up and took my cock in her hand. Slowly stroking it, she scooted forward to the edge of the couch and then down to her knees in front of me. She hesitated for a moment, then placed her mouth on my cock.
I had not anticipated that Mother would go this far, but her pride had been wounded. She was willing to go to any lengths to prove how bad a son I was. In any event, I watched as Mother slowly began to swallow the length of my shaft. Whatever anger that I possessed at this moment began to wilt away as she increasingly consumed more of my cock.
From the start, I found Mother's talent for sucking cock amazing. With her lips forming a perfect seal, she slowly moved up and down my shaft. At first, she had only half of the length in her mouth, but soon she was sliding her lips up and down the entire shaft. I could feel the tip of my cock as it slid along the roof of her mouth and into the back of her throat.
Instinctively, I placed both hands behind Mother's head and guided her as her head bobbed up and down my shaft. I could feel my orgasm building until I could hold back no longer. Suddenly, my cock shot a hot stream of cum into my mother's waiting mouth. As I pulled her head forward, I shot one glob of semen after the other. Unexpectedly, she made no attempt to pull back but instead pressed her face forward so that my cum was shooting into her throat.
As my orgasm subsided, I released her head and pulled my cock from her mouth. Dragging it over her lower lip, I watched as Mother used her tongue to lick the last of my cum from the tip. Pushing herself up, she sat down on the couch. While we were looking into each other's eyes, Mother made sure that I saw that she swallowed my cum. Although a little weak in the knees after that experience, I managed to stuff my cock back into my pants and pull my zipper back up.
"Most customers would tip after good service," Mother said. I nodded and pulled another Benjamin from my wallet and gave it to her.
With a look of resignation, she continued, "Now, can we go back to where we were before? I do not think that you want your mother working the streets."
"No, I guess not. But there must be some stipulations." I responded.
"Like?" Mother inquired.
"First," I replied, "you are going to stay within a budget. And second, while I will pay for this apartment and give you $2,000 per week, I will not be giving you any extra. You are going to earn anything else that I give you."
Crossing her arms, she narrowed her gaze and scowled in a very measured tone, "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. Whenever I want, you are going to service me. Understood?"
