Just after my eighteenth birthday, my mother Susan and my father John divorced. Like all our family and friends, I could see the divorce coming from a mile away. Mother and dad were simply not compatible. Dad was a womanizer who never complied with his marital vows; on the other hand, mother was a very traditional housewife who was a one-man woman with no tolerance for dad's on-the-side lifestyle. Chalking it up to just one of those things, I never placed the blame on either one. I was friendly with both, and after a while, they both accepted the divorce and moved on.
However, a few years after the divorce, dad passed away from cancer. In between the time of the divorce, dad had made some extraordinary moves in the stock market which made millions for him. Despite the divorce, he had updated his will to establish a trust wherein mother was the primary beneficiary of the income from the trust, with the remainder to be left to me after her death. Considering their divorce, mother and I always wondered why he provided for her in the trust. The best answer we came up with was that he was still in love with her. In any event, mother became a wealthy woman.
Once mother had escaped the marital ties, she went on a bit of a dating spree, but she never seemed to find anyone special. Men would appear in her life, only to discarded within a couple of weeks. That is until she met Jerry. He was somewhat likeable at first, but then the telltale signs began to emerge. He was always short of money, but never short of ideas of how mother could spend her money on him. A problem with his car soon morphed into a new car for him purchased by mother. An overdue credit card became a payoff of that debt, again through mother. His losing his job became mother's payment of his apartment rent. Mother's entire family could see what a moocher he was, but mother was seemingly so in love she couldn't (or wouldn't) see it. The one smart thing that mother did was that she never allowed him to move into her house. Although his involvement in her life irritated me, I declined to raise the subject with mother, even as her infatuation with him seemingly began to wane. If it made her happy, I was fine with that.
Standing at 5'2" tall, mother was a reasonably pretty brunette in her late 30s, whose figure had declined a little with age but nevertheless retained her curves. Looking back, I could not help but take notice anytime she wore a two-piece bikini, which always seemed one size too small. Her plump, round breasts seemed to spill over the top. Her figure was a little overweight, but it only added to the curvature of her body. In any event, she was my mother, and I quickly dismissed any thoughts of what she might look nude.
Nevertheless, she was a wonderful person with many fine traits, but one thing that eluded her was technology. She could never get the hang of computers or anything of a technical nature. Especially frustrating for her was her smart phone. At least once a week, I had the task of unlocking her phone, resetting passwords, or any number of problems that she somehow created with her phone. Especially problematic for her was texting, which included frequent texting to the wrong person. That became very evident one summer afternoon.
I was supposed to come by mother's house around 4:00 p.m. to discuss some financial information with the trust, but I finished my errands early and headed that way. As I was about 5 minutes away, I get a text from mother saying "If you come over, I'll have a surprise for you. I'll be in the bedroom. Pretend you are a burglar." Thinking it was a joke of hers, I didn't respond, and I wound up getting to her house about 2:15 p.m. As I had done throughout my life, I just walked in through the front door.
I was still wondering about the burglar phrase as I entered the house. I was taking a sip from a can of Dr. Pepper when I heard mother call out "who's there?" I didn't respond, left the partially drank can on the counter, and I walked back to her bedroom. Turning the corner, I was stunned at what I saw.
There, in the middle of the bed, my mother lay spread-eagle, partially nude and blindfolded. Within moments, my mind captured a snapshot of the vision in front of me. Wearing a black sleeping mask that completely wrapped across both eyes, mother was dressed in only black, thigh-high hose and a see-through black camisole. Both of her arms were cuffed together above her head to the bedframe with cushioned hand restraints. Her legs were similarly bound to the end of the bed in a spread-eagle position. As she lay there, I could see her slightly sagging breasts underneath her camisole rise and fall with each breath, each leaning just a touch to side of her chest. Pressing against the sheer fabric of the camisole, her tits made tiny tents in the material. Her waist retained the slenderness of her youth, but her hips bulged slightly thereby accenting the rest of her body.
But most of all, I was drawn to her pubic mound which was now on full display for me. With her legs parted, I could clearly see her pussy lips gaping before me, her hole clear for me to see. Although unshaved, her pubic hair was trimmed and not particularly bushy which allowed me to clearly see every inch of her delightful pussy. At the top of her slit, I could see a hint of her clit poking out just slightly. I could not help but to continue to stare at her.
I heard mother say, "Is anyone there?" I just stood there in confusion, not knowing if I should reveal myself. I didn't know if I should say nothing and just leave, but then it hit me. The text from her was supposed to be for someone else, possibly Jerry. I had been accidentally invited by my own mother to come and pretend to be a burglar in a game in which I had not been invited. I was still contemplating my next move when she spoke again.
With a pleading voice, mother said, "I know you are there. I don't know why you tied me up, and I am helpless to resist. Please, just take what you want", and then with a husky voice added, "but please don't rape me." She took a deep breath and raised her hips slightly as if to invite the intruder to violate her.
I had seldom envisioned any type of sexual contact with mother before, but now, she was inviting her pretend burglar to put his cock into her waiting pussy. I had never seen mother in any stage of undress except for a swimsuit, but I could see her spread pussy right in front of me. My mother or not, the vision of a naked woman wanting my cock was too much to ignore. With my cock hardening by the second, I stood at the edge of the abyss. Part of me wanted to turn and leave, but I felt compelled to stay and just lust over the naked woman in front of me. But the devil on my shoulder pushed me over the cliff.
To this day, I don't know why, but I began to unbuckle my pants. As I did, I could see a slight grin on mother's face as she took a deep breath. Within a few seconds, I had discarded all my clothes and was fully nude with my naked mother laying in front of me.
In a low voice, I heard mother say, "I heard you taking off your clothes. Please, don't put your cock in me, I beg you. I am all alone, and I can't' resist you." I saw her spread her legs further and raise her thighs. Her pussy was spread and waiting for me.
Crawling up on the bed, I reached with my hand toward her open pussy. Sliding my finger down her slit, I could feel her wet juices as I pressed the tip of my finger slightly into her vaginal lips. Sliding my body alongside of her, I pushed my finger into her, gently touching her clit which was now swollen with anticipation. In and out, I forced my finger into my own mother. As I did, she arched her back in unison with my touch, which prompted more pretend protests from her.
"NO, you can't touch me down there. Please stop. Take anything else you want but leave me alone." Even so, she began to rotate her hips in rhythm with my plunging finger. "Oh, that feels so good, but please stop. I am begging you. Please don't rape me." I continued to stab my finger in and out. Soon, I noticed mother's rapid breathing and her clinched fists bound above her head. I knew that mother was close.
Then, I saw her body stiffen as she clinched her legs together. With clinched teeth, mother came as her pussy clamped my finger. With several jerks, mother continued to orgasm as I continued to work my finger in and out of her. With a final raise of her hips, she fell back on the bed.
For a moment, she fell out of character. "Oh, you made me cum so hard", but then she caught herself. "You raped my pussy with your finger. Don't go any further. Please don't put your hard cock into me."
She was right about my cock. I was rock-hard and wanted to mount my mother at that very moment. I rolled over onto her just as she continued to play her part. With a barely audible whisper, she said, "please don't rape me. Don't put your cock into me." I grabbed my cock and placed it at the entrance of her pussy.
I was at the point of no return. If I pushed into her, I was going to ravage my mom and, for all intent and purpose, rape her. But my libido had full control of my brain. I began to push my cock into mom's juicy pussy.
With a whispered voice, mother said, "oh, no. You are raping me. Please stop." Her continued protests just egged me on just that much more. I pushed the head of my cock between her vaginal lips. With about an inch inside her, I pulled back slowly before pushing ever deeper inside her. I wanted to savor every moment of an event that I knew would never happen again. Slowly, I worked every bit of my cock into mother. Working my hips, I began to rotate my cock as I plunged in and out of her wet pussy. She continued to whisper "you're raping me" over and over. She began to rotate her hips to match each of my strokes. Even at the age of forty, her pussy was incredible tight, and she was fucking me with all abandon. I wasn't sure if mother was on birth control, but I was too close to care. I wanted to cum inside mother.
As I continued to pump in and out of mother, her protests continued as well, but her voice began to increase in volume as she closed in on her orgasm. With a determined voice, mother repeated "you are raping me" over and over as she began to rotate her hips in unison with mine. Raising hips as much as she could, she began to match each of my thrusts. I felt my orgasm rising by the second. She must have felt it too.
"Cum in me NOW!" mother screamed. With one final push, I felt the hot sensation of my cum rush from my cock into her waiting pussy. With both of our bodies pressed tightly together, I continued to grind into my mother as wave after wave of orgasm hit both of us. We continued to gyrate our hips together for some time before I collapsed onto my mother.
I must have laid on top of mother for a while before I felt her pulsating pussy push my deflating cock from her now cum-soaked hole. As my cock was ejected from her, I came to my senses. I quickly got up and threw on my clothes. Before I could leave the room, I heard mother say "I need to lie here to catch my breath, but please undo the straps. I was able to fasten them, but I need your help to undo them." I quickly looked at the straps and saw that they were held together with Velcro. I pulled both straps apart and watched her arms fall to the bed. As I left the room, I looked back to make sure that she did not remove her mask. I was in my car and driving away within seconds.
For several days, I lived in fear of what I had done. I knew that in effect I had raped my own mother. The guilt that I felt was almost overwhelming. Even so, I was not about to confess to mother or anyone else. My fear of prison far outweighed my guilt. I knew I had to act naturally, so I telephoned mother that evening and apologized for not coming over. My excuse was that I had gotten busy and couldn't make it. At first, her voice seemed strained, but after talking for several minutes, she spoke as if nothing unusual had happened. I promised to come over the next day, which I did to review the finances of the trust.
Several weeks went by. I had forced the memory of what had happened into a dark, hidden place in my mind that I vowed never to reveal to anyone. Then one day, I had promised mother to come by and take her shopping. As I walked into the house, I saw that mother was sitting on the couch with a serious look on her face. She was dressed in a dark colored blouse and a matching skirt.
"Hi, mom." I began. "Ready to go?"
Mother replied. "Almost, but we should talk first. Please sit down next to me." She patted the cushion next to her as a signal to sit on the couch with her.
Walking to the couch, I noticed that her eyes never left my face. I could feel the heat as my face began to flush. The guilt that I had repressed was trying to boil to the surface. But I remained calm and sat next to her.
