Plugging The Generation Gap
Or,
Probing One's Beginnings
A story of the consequences of pushing raging hormones a little too far.
© 2011 Daniel deLaire
It was a nice summer evening for my 18th birthday. The windows were open to let in the fresh breeze and the smells of June. The aromas of lavender and freshly cut grass chased away the odors of cooking and stale cigarette smoke. The stuffy, shut in smells of a closed house.
It was 7:00 in the evening, and my father was still hard at work selling cars. Summer is a busy time for a dealership; a lot of kids getting their first cars. My brother was staying the night at a friend's house. I was enjoying a glass of wine after dinner, which was not unusual. My parents did not mind me drinking or smoking, so long as I did not pursue either to excess, and I only drank under their supervision. What was odd was that my mother decided to join me in it tonight. Usually, she will drink a few cans of beer before dinner and let it go with that. Tonight, she's pouring her fourth glass of wine, on top of a few extra cans of beer, and I'm barely finished with my first glass. I can already see this is going to be a good night.
My mother is an attractive woman at 47. Slight build, 34B breasts, only a few streaks of gray beginning to penetrate her dark brown hair, and only a few wrinkles becoming obvious on her olive skin. Her olive skin accentuated her green eyes in a way one didn't necessarily expect. She was a striking woman.
My mother and I have always had a strange sort of sexual tension between us. It's never spoken of, and never gets beyond a kiss on the lips and very mild petting. Since I was 11, she's treated me as somewhat of a boyfriend. When she finally got a stereo system for her birthday that year, she taught me all of the dances she knew in her youth, and made me dance with her for a few hours about every night. On nights when my father wasn't around, she'd mix in a few slow numbers and dance really close. I'd get maybe a minute or two of feeling her press close against me. I'd feel her 34B breasts on my chest, and feel her hand rubbing the small of my back, but never venturing below. The evening would usually end with us in bed together, her down to her underwear, getting a back massage from me. But it never went any further than that, at least on the nights she was sober. She always knew when to back off -- usually just as I was starting to get excited. She must have known. It doesn't take 45 minutes in the bathroom to crap, no matter what you've been eating!
Tonight was going to be different; I had made up my mind to that. I discovered, quite by accident, that when she passes out, she's not going to wake up for anything. I had accidentally caressed her breast while covering her up, and she made not a sound. So I got a little bolder and laid next to her. Nothing. She started to stir a bit when I was feeling her legs through the comforter, so I went to my own room, to finish things off by hand. Tonight, I was going to see how far I could go. Rather than calming the pangs of sexual excitement in my belly, the wine helped to exacerbate them.
At about 7:30, my mother started to feel sick from the wine, and so I followed her up the stairs. I enjoyed watching her shake that 47-year-old ass just inches from my face as she quite literally fell up the stairs. She stumbled into the bathroom to throw up, as she usually did when she got this drunk. I held her head over the toilet, as was also usual. By the time we got her showered off, her oral hygiene seen to, and tucked into bed, it was already 8:00. She mumbled her apologies and thanks as she drifted into her alcohol-induced slumber. By 8:15 she was essentially gone to the world, and I had my real birthday present before me: my nearly naked and unconscious mother!
I peeled my clothes off, carefully, quietly, and laid them by the door, in case she woke up and I had to make a quick exit. I inched my naked body under the covers and slowly made my way to my mother. My eight inch cock was already well aware of the evening's events, and was as stiff as a piece of lead pipe.
My mother was lying on her side; with just the sheet covering her underwear clad body. She was wearing a standard flesh tone bra and white cotton panties. I started in by uncovering her to the waist and rubbing my hands lightly on her shoulders, moving up and down her arms. No reaction. I decided to be bolder and strip the covers completely from her body. She no doubt enjoyed the fresh, warm breeze from the open window just behind the headboard. I began to run my hand along the bottoms of her thighs, and up to her well-toned ass. Her flesh was a little cool to the touch and somewhat clammy because of the humidity. I ventured further by moving my body right up behind hers, so that we were in spoons position, and put my arm around her torso.
My mother began moaning when I did this, and I was afraid at first. Unexpectedly, she backed into me and snuggled right in, rubbing her luscious ass against my very erect penis. I went with the flow and started to kiss her on her neck, moving down to her shoulders. My mother began to moan softly; I almost jumped out of my skin when she reached back and began to stroke my dick.
Mom began to nudge her shoulder against me hard, and so I backed off. She kept a firm hold of my dick as she lay on her back and started to spread her legs! The whole scene mixed with the grip she still held on my dick almost made me lose it. I saw that her eyes were still closed. She was moaning "Fuck me, baby".
"This is almost too good" I thought to myself, "She thinks I'm dad!"
I decided to go for broke. I climbed on top of my mother, put my arms around her, and kissed my mother full on the lips. I have kissed countless girls from school, but none of those kissed compared with having my own mother suck on my tongue while I unhooked her bra.
