THE FIRST TIME
Part One
"I mean, didn't you ever think about doing it with your mother," my mother asked?
I wasn't as shocked as I ought to have been. We were under quarantine for months as the latest variant of the virus ran rampant. For weeks, we discussed the virus, politics, and the different aspects of the current social and sexual scene. It was only a matter of time until the discussion got around to incest.
"Well, sure, I guess so." I said, "All guys think about doing their mother's at some time or another."
"There you go, then!" my momma smiled triumphantly. "And mothers fantasize about making it with their sons! Believe me! Some mothers do it"
"You're not serious," I asked incredulously! Would you do it?"
Momma smiled at me over the chopping board where she was busy making a salad.
"I've thought about it. It does seem weird to think about you as a sex partner," she said, turning back to the celery she was chopping. "Besides, being cooped up in this house and talking for months, we know each other's most intimate secrets."
"Well, yeah, but our talks are more to past time than anything else."
"So, given the opportunity, you wouldn't fuck me?"
"Yes! I mean, no..! I don't know what I mean!"
"Look, we share an intimate view few couples have! Hell, you even fix my vibrator and put batteries in it for me!"
"By the way, I'm tired of having to fix your vibrator. You should order another one. It's embarrassing repairing your mother's vibrator!"
"Probably just as embarrassing as my son knowing that I use a vibrator!"
"I know how embarrassing that is for you, Momma, " I laughed, setting the table for the two of us. "The one you have now is so noisy! I recall the night you burst into my bedroom holding the broken vibrator in the air and screaming your frustration!"
He didn't add that she wore a sheer robe and was naked under the open robe. He recalled seeing her neatly trimmed pussy hair wetly gleaming.
"I remember," she said, getting a faraway look in her eyes, "I was so close!?"
"Momma! TMI," I chuckled.
The pandemic forced some economic realities on us. Momma's alimony checks stopped because my father was laid off. I tried to work from my apartment, but I had lousy internet reception. My mother and I decided to pool our resources. I moved in with her to share expenses.
Like any couple who lives together, the first few days and weeks are awkward as you get used to having another person around. Then you become accustomed to each other, and the inhibitions drop.
Momma and I became comfortable enough with each other that she walked around the house in panties and bra or with just a sheer robe on. My boxers became my uniform of the day. Hell, we didn't even close the bathroom door when we did our business! Momma would take a piss while I shaved or showered and vice versa.
I really had fixed her vibrator and even bought her new batteries. We were much closer now, more like intimate friends than mother and son. We found we could talk to each other about anything, including sex.
Our conversation that night started because of one of our family's Zoom calls. These weekly chats were an effort to stay in touch. A friend tested HIV positive, confirming that sex with a stranger was scary and dangerous, just like the virus.
Mom and I were sexually active adults worried about sexual contact with people we didn't know. The timing of the virus lockdown was a bitch! My mother and I ended our relationships with our significant others just before the lockdown.
Our conversation tonight started when I joked that we should keep sex in the family just like they do in the deep south.
"We should think about it." my mother said, tossing the salad.
It was just another hypothetical conversation, an unworkable solution to satisfying our sexual needs, but she had planted a seed. As we ate dinner, I envisioned my momma as a sex object. She was okay, I thought. For her age, she was about average.
My mother is fifty-four, and I'm twenty-five. She is a dark skin Creole with a pretty face, brown eyes, and short salt and pepper pixie hair style.
She is overweight but not obese, with the stereotypical Black woman's bubble butt and a rounded belly. Her thighs were plump because of inactivity and overeating, but she was taller than average, so her long legs compensated. Her breasts had to be in the D cup range the way they jiggled when she walked.
My friends referred to her as the Amazon when I grew up because of her height and size.
Our conversation continued during dinner.
"So you prefer skinny White women over a big-boned Black woman?"
"Absolutely not, Momma! Why do you say that?"
"I say it because your last two girlfriends were skinny White girls. Is the problem that you have jungle fever and don't find me attractive?"
"No! It just kind of worked out that way!"
She gave me a long searching look, then continued eating.
After finishing an excellent steak dinner with a twice-baked potato and salad, I decided that the woman sitting across the table from me was fuckable. Her butt was bigger than I liked, but I would do her.
I repaired her vibrator numerous times during the lockdown. Hell, I could hear it buzzing through the thin common wall of our bedrooms when she used it! When I initially moved in, hearing Momma get off on her vibrator was a sometimes thing, maybe a couple of times a week. It became a nightly event, occasionally multiple times a night if she dropped a THC gummy.
I even masturbated to the buzzing and my mother's muffled moans.
But that evening, for the first time, I thought about my momma in her bedroom, naked, her legs akimbo, jamming that white plastic vibrator in her vagina, and I got hard.
We showered after dinner and met by the fireplace. My mother was barefoot with her nails done in a sexy, brilliant red polish and wore one of my dress shirts with panties and no bra and a touch of makeup. I threw on some jersey shorts with a matching t-shirt.
The room smelled of a sexier-than-normal perfume. I caught a brown flash of thigh as she sat down on the sofa.
"Come sit on the couch. Let's have an after-dinner THC gummy and some cognac," she said, patting the sofa cushions.
"What's the occasion?" I asked, popping a gummy and pouring a snifter of Courvoisier.
"Oh, you know," she began, crossing her legs and sipping the liquor. "I thought maybe it was time for us to fool around."
"I might not be the kind of guy who wants to fool around," I teased her.
"Are you gay? You never told me that," she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave or two.
"No, momma! I'm not gay! I was teasing you. You know what women say when you don't want to do it with a guy; I'm not that kind of girl!"
"I never said that," she said, devilishly smiling at me.
We talked about her real estate job, my IT job, and other small talk. However, I could tell she had a more important subject on her mind. The gummy kicked in about half an hour into our eclectic conversation. In combination with the cognac, we were relaxed and high.
"How are we going to do this," I asked, bringing our conversation back to the elephant in the room?
"Why not start like most dates start. We kiss!"
"Well, yeah." I stammered. "Is the perfume and the makeup for me?"
"Who else," she snorted derisively? "Ain't nobody here but us chickens! Don't you think I look and smell nice?"
"You always look nice to me, Momma,"
She smiled, set her glass down, and slid next to me. She used the remote to dim the lights until the glow of the fireplace gave the room a rosy orange color.
"We've been having this conversation for days now. Do you think you could screw your mother?" She almost whispered the words.
I nodded dumbly as she pulled my arm around her shoulders and nestled next to me, looking into my eyes with a smoldering intensity.
"I often jack off listening to you using your vibrator."
"Gee, how romantic!" she grinned with a cynical look. "If this works out, I'll let you watch me use it."
"Promise?"
"Promise," she said, pulled my arm closer around her, and looked up at me again.
"Don't you think we should try a kiss? I mean, just to see? Nothing heavy or anything."
Momma didn't wait for me to answer. She took my face in her hands, tilted her face up, and kissed me warmly, sliding her tongue across my lips.
I tasted the cognac and her lipstick. To be honest, it wasn't much of a thrill, and I pulled away in disappointment.
"Well, that was underwhelming," I said, and she nodded in agreement.
We slid apart a little.
"Yeah, I agree," she said ruefully. She unbuttoned the shirt's top button. "but maybe you're just not in the right mood yet. Why don't we start with my jugs?"
My mother unfastened the other buttons and opened the shirt. I wasn't surprised she wasn't wearing a bra; she rarely did around the house. Her shirt fell open, and her big tits spilled out.
It was quiet in the room except for my heart pounding hard enough to drown out the sound of the crackling fire. My cock hardened as I stared at my mother's bare breasts.
They were full like a sizeable brown melon with areola like small pancakes, and they sagged to her chest. Her nipples were like crinkly black raisins and hardened when she was aroused. The orange glow of the fire flickering on her bare flesh made them seem even more beautiful.
"I breastfed you when you were an infant. Do you want to do that again," she asked in a whisper.
She cupped her heavy breasts, lifted them, and offered them to me.
"Or maybe just kiss my nipples?"
"Yes," I said nervously, simultaneously surprised and aroused at my mother's forwardness.
I placed my hands over hers, cupped her breasts, and took one of them to my mouth.
