Sudden Moves

50 PAGES (MICROSOFT WORD) WRITTEN IN CALIBRI FONT, (SIZE 11) WITH 1.15 LINE SPACING. Just a heads up. This story is approximately 2/3 the length of my previous story, "Rewriting Us." I was not aiming for any length. It just ended up this way. It will not take long to get to the fun stuff.

My characters are unrealistically beautiful. Some may find their athleticism unrealistic as well. I have made it this way for two reasons. The first is I like my stories like that. The second is a matter of plot. Please read and enjoy to find out what I mean.

Usual disclaimers (OnlyFiction, not for real life people to do, yadda yadda yadda.)

***

She wore a thick formless bathrobe in the kitchen, and she stirred a small pot with care.

In that town, that house, she was "Catherine Porter." She had not called herself Catherine Sullivan in all the years since she'd married Mike. But her Sullivan blood ran through her veins as hot as it ever had. She would not use the name Catherine Sullivan ever again; not even after this wild week had passed. It was Thursday morning, so she was half way (plus half a day) through it. The move still lay ahead. Catherine was making sure everything and everyone was prepared.

Mike slinked into the kitchen, hopeful that his wife still had control of her temper. It had been four days since she'd gone into the laundry room and had her meltdown. Rocking the boat would gain him nothing. Even so, he couldn't restrain his response to the smell that hit him when he entered. "Phew!"

"What's the matter?"

She was still pleasant with him, if not as warm as she'd been before the laundry room fit. Best to still tread lightly. "I can see that's oatmeal in the pot. Looks delicious, really! But I smell this strong fishy smell."

Catherine took a deep sniff. "No. It must be those meds of yours."

"There was nothing in the heart medication about strange smells."

"No, I know. I saw something about it in your sleep meds, the ones to balance out some of the others that can keep you awake."

Mike reached out to stir the pot, but Catherine slapped his hand away.

Ooookay.

He backed off, but his wife turned to him, holding out a plate.

"Here. Try a bite of this toast. Does it taste okay?"

He bit into a dry slice of toast. "Yeah. Perfectly normal."

She smiled. She didn't hate him. At least she wanted him to be able to eat. That had to be worth something. But she was reserved in a way he wasn't used to.

Fair enough,

he thought.

I would have understood worse after Saturday night's fireworks.

"Let's skip the butter," she advised. "There's butter in the oatmeal. That may be part of the problem. Besides, I'm sure Dr. Chambal would approve skipping it. I put your tea in a thermos, but I also made you a cup of coffee if you want to a take a few sips before you go."

Mike chewed his dry toast and enjoyed the one coffee he could allow himself for the day.

"By the way," she added, "while you were showering, I used your phone to message Lou about a round of golf after work. He wrote back that he should be able to make it."

Mike stared at his wife, stunned. "Wow, Cathy, I can't believe you did that for me. These last few days, you've been so..." He let the sentence drift off.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away. "You made it clear Saturday night that you meant what you said about 'enjoying your clarity,' and focusing on your golf game."

"That's not what I meant. I was trying to say..."

"Whatever, Mike. You can focus on other important things in life rather than...look...It's taken me some days to come to terms with it..."

Mike raised his eyebrows. This sounded like an understatement to him. After he'd begged off sex, she'd gone down to the laundry room on the first floor. There she'd let loose a major tantrum for two hours or so. There was crashing and screaming and screeching pretty much the whole time. She'd come back up without a word. Then she'd showered and come to bed. Sunday morning she had looked careworn, but by the afternoon she was even-tempered if a bit cool. He'd given her space, and she was brightening a bit more each day. She was trying to get what time she could with their son Randy before he moved two towns over to his new job. Mike didn't want to make this difficult time any harder than it already was. Now she was saying that she was making peace with the new normal.

"It's taken me some days to come to terms with it," she was saying. "But I'm finding my own ways of dealing with it. Maybe you golfing more will lead to even more activity. Maybe it'll help with your health."

"Yeah. I'd like that. You know, I..."

"Mom!" called a deep voice from upstairs. "Can you come up? Some laundry got mixed up here."

"I'll be with you in a minute, Randy," The mother called back.

She bustled her husband out the door. Was she rushing him? If so, he didn't mind one bit. That fish smell was killing him.

Randy called again in his shaking bass voice.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" She grabbed the pot from the stovetop and walked it to the bathroom. When she dumped the foul smelling concoction into the toilet, many sardines could be seen plopping into the water. Holding her breath, she flushed it all.

Her hands shook with anticipation as she dropped the pot into the sink, and filled it with soapy water. As she waited for the bubbles to reach the rim, she thought to herself,

I can't believe how far gone I am. Just a couple of days. It's all so sudden.

The suds overflowed the pot. She cut the water and sprinted up the stairs full speed.

***

Catherine burst into Randy's room, gasping.

The young man was standing in nothing but a wrinkled pair of boxer shorts. About 5'11" with a build that showed he'd played sports for high school and kept fit through college. His disheveled black hair cast a shadow over his dark blue eyes.

"What is that stink?"

"Nothing. It's in the kitchen. I'll tell you about it later."

"Okay. Well, close the door in any case."

She did and stood with her back against the door.

"Dad gone off to work?"

"Yes."

"Good." He took a few steps toward her. She was still taking deep breaths. She wondered in a passing thought if it was because of the dash up the stairs. Or was it anticipation of the athletics ahead? "Take off the robe."

Catherine did as she'd been told. 5'8" 127 pounds, her shape left no question of her dedication to fitness. She was wearing only her peach satin bra and panties. Her brown hair was down to her shoulders. It was thick and healthy with waves, framing a long featured face; regal with sharp hazel eyes. It was only a little bit mussed.

There's only so much I could do before breakfast, considering how messy it got last night. If it hadn't been for the pillow I'd have splinters in the top of my head.

Her breathing wasn't normalizing.

Any friend of Randy's would fall to his knees at this sight, mouth open in awe. Randy stepped closer. He put his pointer finger on the crotch of her panties, and asked, "What is this, Mom?"

Her Hazel eyes went wide. "I wore it for you!"

"I heard you come up here from the kitchen."

"But I wanted to come to you right away."

"It's nice that you did." The accusing pointer turned into three fingers rubbing gently at her groin. She sighed relief and pleasure. He continued, "But that means that you wore these in the kitchen...for him."

"No. The bathrobe."

"You said you would dress like this for me alone. He could have tried something."

"No, he hasn't tried anything for ages."

"But he could have tried anyway. Maybe to be nice to you even if the meds keep his libido down. He could've reached into your robe, and what would he have found? Soft satin. MY soft satin."

"All yours, baby."

"Right. That's why you shouldn't wear it for him to have a chance. You told me that when he looks or touches you, he'll only get...?"

"The granny panties," she finished. "You're right, darling. I only wear sexy things for you."

Randy slipped his long thick fingers into the satin panties, and made her moan.

"Good."

The moaning mother leaned back against the door, jutting her hips toward his hand. She reached up to hold onto his shoulders for extra balance.

"But, sweetheart, that'll mean I'm still wearing those ugly things when you call for me. I want to come to you first chance I get!"

Randy stepped closer. One of his legs stood between her parted thighs. He bent forward a bit, so he could withdraw his finger from her crease. Then he reinserted it along with two more fingers. Catherine gasped and squeezed her son's shoulders. "Oh, yeah," she exhaled. Randy's fingers were making a meaty wet sound as they plunged in and out of his mother's greedy vagina.

"Next time still come to me right away."

"Uhn!"

"You can show me that you wore 'those ugly things' for him." He kissed his mother. She cooed into his mouth, relief at having him in her top and bottom. He broke the kiss, and said, "And then you should take off every stitch so I can see your beautiful body free of them. You'll put them out in the hall, and then you will put on an outfit that is for me."

Catherine chuckled, "I doubt you would let me leave your room so I could

put on

clothes. Even something naughty."

"You can keep some things in the chest in my closet." His voice was getting stronger with the scent of his mother's sex in his nose. He was bolder with his fingers slippery inside her lower lips.

Catherine laughed between gasps. Then choked out, "You think you can keep your penis out of me while I change into something like these panties? You think I'm going to wait for you to take TWO pairs of underwear off me?"

Randy pulled his fingers out of his mother. He put his big hands on her hips, and turned her 180 degrees to face the door. He pushed her shoulders forward and down with one hand while pulling her lower body towards him. Next he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side, exposing her sloppy wet lips to the air. She could hear him fishing his heavy hard dick out of his shorts. "Who says," he began, and she could feel the broad head of that remarkable meat rub her entrance. "I have to remove..." Randy grabbed Catherine's taut hips with his big paws, and pulled her back as he shoved forward into her.

Catherine's screams of shock and joy drowned out the last words of his sentence. The lines of her panties traced the arc of her ass cheeks as she pushed back at her son, forcing herself onto his snake. She arched her back more, angling her tunnel to his forceful spreading penetration.

She'd never known before this week that this was what she needed; to be taken. Randy was taking what he wanted. She wanted that too. She felt her son's hand trace up her back and snap the bra clasp open. The other hand stayed on her hip and pulled her into another jolting reach deep into her sopping middle.

The peach bra fell away as she shucked it forward. Randy's hand slid down her bare spine to the small of her back. He pushed down, and the dip brought more cock into Catherine. She'd thought she had every centimeter before.

Fuck, he always has more dick for me,

she thought

.

Randy wasn't done making moves with his free hand. He ran it up her side, along her ribs. It did not tickle because his contact and pace were so firm and sure. Her younger lover's reach continued up her torso and around to grip her left tit. He squeezed with a steady strength that would have frightened her when she was his age. But as a beloved grown woman, she enjoyed her son's hunger and possessiveness.

Strong and steady. Just like...

SMACK! Randy's broad hand swatted her half exposed ass.

Wow! He's never done THAT before.

He slammed rapid fire into her. "Stay with me, Mom," her son growled. He was fucking her with the sort of forcefulness that Mike used to manage when he was finishing. But her young stud was just getting started. Catherine groaned out the approach of an orgasm; still distant and the first of many. They lost themselves for a few rutting minutes as Randy's member pushed and dug deep into his mother's quim. It felt so perfect she wanted to sing.

Like a unified machine they were moving in a wild rhythm, mindless. Catherine grazed her head against the door while shoving her lower body back into her son's hips.

It didn't hurt. In fact she would hardly have registered it if not for the strands of hair that fell into her eyes.

This is what happens when I can go full throttle

, she thought. She did not acknowledge who she imagined herself talking to.

My hair goes all over the place.

She'd tried to go all out in bed with Mike in their early years. He would laugh and say, "Woah!" and generally fall out of the sexy mood. Randy was pounding into her even harder now. It was blindingly good, but it knocked even more hair into her face. It didn't bother her. She found it funny and delightful.

He's "shagging" me into a wild haired frenzy! It's all over the place...WOW! He's so fucking HARD in me!...Wild hair, just like my...

CLAP! Randy spanked his mother's other ass cheek through the peach panties. "That's it. You need something else," came the deep voice of her son. And the biggest dick that had ever split Catherine open was yanked from her with no other warning. It was literally having an organ removed in three seconds flat, except the organ was Randy's.

She yelped in shock. "Whhaaaaaa!?!? No!" She looked back over her shoulder at the stern face of the commanding young buck. "Why did you...?"

Randy gently turned his mother back around to face him. His features softened to the look of a concerned authority figure. "I don't know where you were just now, Mom, but you weren't here with me."

"How do you know that?"

"You weren't moaning as loud. You didn't push back with as much strength." Randy peeled the soaked peach satin panties off of his mother. He did this with a gentleness and care he'd not shown much of this morning, and left the panties by the door. He took her by the hand and walked her -- completely naked and dazzling in her beauty -- to his bed. "We have all day today, so you will still end up stretched and wet. We'll go hard and deep. But we need to you focus." He eased his mother across the bed, and opened her legs. "I don't care what kind of bullshit games you had to play in your head while Dad fumbled around trying to please you." She sighed as he eased between her thighs and hovered above. "But with me you need to be..." the bulbous head of her favorite penis in the world nudged at her nether lips. "...totally..."Randy pierced her. "...present!" On and on the son's great tube invaded Catherine's inner walls. She spread open as best she could, and she kept expecting to feel Randy's hips against the backs of her thighs. But it was just more and more thick hard penis shoving her ever more open and diving ever deeper into her toned body.

This was not their first time, or their second. But she was still shocked and enthralled by how big her son's dick was when he blessed her once-starved cunt with it. Her eyes popped wider open as her son settled the full girth into her, and she saw only his eyes on her. There was love there; an adoring deep love that made the foundation of everything else she saw. There was Randy's sexual desire for her. They mixed into a ferocious consuming hunger. A weaker lover - someone with a subdued appetite - would have found it intimidating. But Randy's love and lust and hunger was matched by his mother's.

He's like me. Like my father.

The thought disturbed her, and, unbidden, several pieces fell together. The loose hair. The hands. The focus. How her mother had changed after...

Randy recognized the shift in attention. "No, Mom. Not now. Not while I'm inside you." There was that third element in his eyes: a calm steady focus and determination. That definitely came from his mother.

"Be with me," Randy said. The great leviathan of flesh withdrew from Catherine's depths and dove back into her.

She could not be anywhere but there in his bed now; lying beneath his muscled body, spread open to his sex. The world and her history in it disappeared, and she grabbed his shoulders. Her fingernails bit into his flesh, but he didn't flinch. "Tell me you're going to really fuck me, Randy. Promise you'll stay hard and rough in Mommy's pussy until we both explode. Make me your fucking slut again!"

His's face split into a grin like the sun coming out after a heavy rain. "Of course, Mom. I'm going to cover this bed with your cream." Randy pounded into his mother. She moaned in a quavering voice. He kissed her into silent passive reception of his unstoppable force. When he broke the kiss, he added. "I'm going to fuck you until you don't know up from down."

"Yes. Give it to me, baby!" She surrendered again to the powerful thrusts of her son. It was the kind of crashing power fucking she'd been born for, though she'd never understood it before this week. What a surprise to discover it with her son, but what a relief to finally be getting it.

His chest crushed against her modest breasts. The sliding motion of their coupling smoothed into an easy rhythm. His mouth was on hers. His body covered nearly every inch of her wiry frame.

That extra tingle of incest in her pussy faded as she lost track of the idea that this was her son crashing over her like a tidal wave. They were no longer Catherine and Randy, mother and son. She was woman, universal beyond any name; and he was man. All males she could look at and call a man. Her man. The greatest man she'd ever known. For him she was open mouthed, open armed, open legged; receiving him. All of him. Every drop of saliva from his tongue to hers. Every patch of skin he wanted rub on hers. Every fat turgid inch he wanted to wedge into her tight body. She would surrender herself completely to receive him with eager -- desperate -- clutching.

He pumped into her mindlessly, and groped and suckled at her taut form without any pattern. He was like a wild animal, and she was his willing meal. She'd never been "consumed" by a man's passion like this. Most past lovers had lacked the will. All had lacked the physical prowess. Mike, who had been loving and excellent in nearly every other way, had never had the focus. And the focus was what made it so amazing. Her hard muscled man sucked at her chest and drove his tent pole into her cunt, while focused entirely on her. This was about much more than fucking for Randy. This was about HER.

Who had ever showered her with such concentrated desire? Or any woman she'd ever heard of? None had ever shown it with this kind of raw sexual power and skill!

She gave out a piercing screech and thrashed under her powerhouse lover. He was not slowed. His tremendous throbbing cock rioted in and out of her trembling body. Her nipples shot bolts of pleasure through her under his oral attention. She came again, and the bed jumped and shook. But Randy was determined to keep giving it to his mother.

And he did. She had no idea how many times her sweating stud brought her to climax, or how long he spent pleasuring her. Near the end -- the last handful of gushing loud convulsions -- she remembered that this was her son skewering her hard little body. The incest tingle returned, and she crushed down on his bone with everything she had left.

"You've taken such good care of Mommy, Randy" she grunted in rhythm to his pistoning rod. "Now give me your seed."

The young man grunted.

"Cum deep in me, baby," she said to spur him on with the truth of her urges.

He roared, into the pillow beside her head, and released her shoulders. (He'd been keeping her from sliding into the headboard.) Both of his big hands reached down to grab her little ass. The thick fingers dug into her flesh, and partly lifted her up to better meet his thrusts

. Here we go!,

she thought. Randy, in a final burst of heavenly strength, fucked the ever-loving shit out of his mother. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she thought she might black out from her son's undeniable love and lust.