Circa 1971
Afterwards Luke wondered about having cum inside his mother. She hadn't protested; hadn't made him wear a rubber. She was all smiles in the aftermath as a matter of fact.
"I'll get a towel and clean us up," she'd said, in her typically motherly, solicitous fashion.
Was she on the pill? Not likely at her age. Maybe, after Luke's birth 18 years and three months ago, she'd had her tubes tied? Luke had no idea. So he lay on the same bed where they'd fucked that afternoon, in the early-evening semi-darkness, and heat, hands behind his head and wearing nothing but underpants, wondering; worrying. Sweating a little on that warm night.
Luke's stepdad was home now and he could hear him distantly, in the kitchen, talking excitedly about another day spent at the accounting firm where he worked. He was not excited in the good sense; his machine-gun patter suggesting something frantic; desperate. Luke's dad hated his job, hated every minute of it, and more and more the man seemed, well, not quite right. Luke's mother had hinted as much that afternoon:
"Those drugs he's on," she'd said, standing over Luke on his bed as she removed blouse and shorts, then bra and panties, "have affected dad in so many ways. He's not the same man he used to be."
Luke's mom had then climbed on top of him without even a hint of foreplay, risen up on knees while lifting Luke's pulsing erection to the vertical, then sat on it, abruptly—their sex that afternoon lubricated by nothing but her own juices. She let out a cry, a frown having crumbled her face.
"You're so big and hard. You feel so good inside me," she declared. Then she rose up and sat on him again. Rose and sat before, at last, smile returning, she found her rhythm.
"Oh, Luke! I wanted to do something special for you on your 18th birthday. Oh, honey! My sweet boy! It's belated, I realize, but..."
As his mom rode him Luke rose up and sucked his mom's little tit. The left one at first, then the right. He was a virgin to that point but the act, the rising, the desire to fill his mouth with her peaked soft flesh, came as naturally to him as breathing had, heavy breathing, moments before as she bared her slender, very pale body, all of it, to him.
"Do you like your present?"
"Oh, mom...!" having pulled his lips away from her dark nipple.
"I got so turned on the other day when you walked past my bedroom and I was getting dressed and you saw me naked. I know I made it sound like I was upset, dismayed, and I was at the time believe me, but...it's all I've been able to think about the past few days. Did you think about me?"
"Yes."
"How did you think about me?" Luke's mom's slender arms were raised, baring shaved armpits, her hands pulling back honey-blonde hair into a temporary knot and revealing the full of her luminous face. God she was pretty!
"How? I thought about you...," Luke replied hesitantly, breathlessly, "like this."
"Making love?"
"Yeah."
"It's funny," his mom laughed as she continued her slow ride. "You were thinking about me and...and I was thinking about...you. Probably at the exact same time, lying in bed at night. It's almost as if our thoughts came together in love-making before our bodies did, y'know? It's an almost mystical thing. I think it was made to happen, don't you?"
"What...but what about dad?"
"Dad's at work. He won't be home for hours."
"I know but..."
"Stop thinking about dad and concentrate on me. Us. Do you think I'm still pretty?"
"Of course!"
"Do you like my body?"
"It's...beautiful! It's the most beautiful thing I've ever..."
Luke's mom was laughing. "I have to get you a subscription to Playboy, young man. You need to broaden your horizons. These little tits?"
"They're...perfect!"
She laughed again. "They're tiny! I love it when you suck them, though. Suck the right one, too." Then: "No, my right, honey. Your left," and she wrapped her arms around her son's head and held it there, her little peak of imperfect flesh entirely in his suffocated mouth.
Later Luke recalled falling back against the pillows, the headboard, barely able to breathe, and gazing down the length of his flat belly at his mom's honey-blonde triangle of hair and at the way it—her hidden vagina—revealed for a split-second the lower half of his glossy shaft, his own pubic hair dark-brown, almost black, his real dad's, before she—it—swallowed his cock whole again and it disappeared inside her, deep. He held, loosely, his mother by the slim waist at this point, as he breathed through his mouth in a state of dream-like disbelief.
"Oh, mommy..."
And she smiled down at him, like a beatific pale angel. "I haven't heard that in a while. Mommy? Are you cumming in me, baby?"
"I—"
"It's OK, darling. Go ahead. It's your birthday, your gift. Do whatever you want. You want me to turn around? You want to see my bottom while we...I think it's my best feature. God I'm vain sometimes. I apologize. Forgive me, baby."
Further delay was hopeless. And after Luke ejaculated inside his mother and he began to shrink inside her she sensed it and dismounted him, her son's fresh, thick, teenaged, pearly white deposit of cum dripping on his thigh, the mattress, the bedroom floor she now stood on, smiling down on him. His mother, his angel. Black ants would follow: sweetness their pursuit.
"I'll get a towel and clean us up. Oh my, what a mess you made!" laughing as she hurried from the bedroom, a hand cupped between her legs. Her pale ass, it was true: exquisite! Wide for her body. Pale. Unpocked.
The towel was warm and damp and, Luke guessed, had just cleaned his mother's vagina in her pink bathroom across the hall; but now she wiped his thigh with it and cleaned off his half-limp cock.
"You know," his mom said, "if you abandoned that silly idea of yours of going away to college upstate...We have a perfectly good university right here, Luke, not ten minutes from the house. You could go on living at home, you wouldn't have to work, and we," she smiled, "could go on making love to each other two, three—who knows?—four days a week? You could schedule your classes so you have most afternoons free and we could spend them..."
