The Grand Strategy

The next two weeks were tough. We were nearing the end of the academic year, and every professor seemed to be competing in which one could pile more on us. I wanted to spend time with Mom, but I needed to do well academically this first year. I texted her regularly, explaining, and she understood.

"Mom, I want to be there to get a good meal, but we're getting swamped and I'm struggling to keep up." What I was really saying was not "...to get a good meal," but rather, "...to get a good feel," and Mom seemed to understand without my saying it.

"Honey, no matter what else is going on, your studies have to take priority. You're a man now and you have to make the smart decision, no matter what other desires are influencing you."

That was probably as close to sexting as Mom would ever get. She acknowledged that there was a desire, a major desire, that was foremost in my mind.

As we came closer to the end of the semester, there was a slackening in the study load, and things eased up a bit. I was not at the top of the class, but safely in the top third. I finally had some time to myself. On a Wednesday, my afternoon classes were cancelled and I found myself with a window of free time. I immediately texted Mom,

"Afternoon classes cancelled. Got the coffee pot on?"

She replied immediately, "It's hot and ready." Whew. She could sure say a lot in an innocent text. "Hot and ready." Good Lord, I hoped so.

When I got there she was not waiting for me at the back door, so I let myself in and called for her. "Mom?"

"Be right there," she shouted from upstairs, so I stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. She was a vision as she descended the stairs. She had on the same yoga pants and sweater as the last time I had seen her. She was beautiful.

She came right into my arms and we kissed deeply. I immediately noted, to my delight and surprise as I held her with my hands on her back, that she was not wearing a bra. She was not wearing a bra!

She took my hand, saying, "Do you really want coffee?"

I looked at her and laughed. "Nope. Right now coffee is the last thing on my mind."

She nodded, as if I had said exactly the right thing, and taking my hand led me into the den. We settled on the couch, resumed kissing, and before no time at all were in the position we had been in before when we were so rudely interrupted by Dad's arrival. I wasted no time in pushing her sweater up to her shoulders. I pulled back, looking at those perfect pear-sized breasts, and gave a deep sigh. They were pale, and I noticed she had a small mole on the bottom of the left breast. I could see the blue veins in them, and slight stretch marks - a result of their swelling with milk when she was nursing me. I raised my eyes to hers, and she was smiling slightly.

"Like them?"

"Oh, yeah. I like them. I think they're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

She laughed softly. "You loved them when you were a baby. I thought I'd never get you weaned."

"I guess you didn't do a good job, then," I answered. " 'Cause I'm still obsessed with them," and with that, I slowly lowered my lips to her right breast.

"Good God," that's funny." she whispered. "You always wanted to start with that one when you were a baby." She reached her right hand down to cup her breast, put her left hand on the back of my head, and pulled me into her breast. I opened my mouth, taking her in, and sucked gently on the nipple. She threw her head back to rest on the arm of the sofa, and sighed.

I focused on the nipple, sucking it, teasing it with my tongue, and rubbing my lips on it. I then sucked practically her whole breast into my mouth, and sucked while I rubbed her nipple with my tongue. I put everything I had into sucking that breast. My entire universe was centered in that breast.

She pulled me off, cupped her left breast with her left hand, and moved my head to that one. I didn't tease this time, but immediately sucked the whole breast in my mouth, using the same lapping movement of my tongue on her nipple. While sucking it I bumped her breast with my face, and she stiffened. Moaning slightly, she pulled roughly at the back of my head, encouraging me to take more in my mouth and, I thought, to suck even more vigorously. I did, and she gave a shudder and a long whimpering and moaning sound. She shivered, stiffened, and then relaxed, releasing my head and pushing me from her breast. I kissed her nipple, and she gave another shudder.

I had just made my Mother have an orgasm by sucking her tits. I'll tell you, there are few things that will ever make you more satisfied and more confident than making your Mom come by sucking her breasts.

She pulled me up to her face, and kissed me deeply.

"Oh, Billy. That was beautiful. You really do like them, don't you?"

"Ya think?"

She sighed. "I was afraid you'd be disappointed."

I looked in her eyes. "Mom, there is nothing about you that could ever disappoint me. You are the most beautiful woman who has ever been in my life, and you always will be."

"And you will always be my beautiful man," she purred, and pushed me back down to her breasts.

I didn't make her come again by sucking them, but I gave those babies a workout. After awhile she pushed me off again, saying, "They're getting a little sensitive, Honey. We'd better give them a little rest."

She pushed me back a little and sat up. She took the bottom of the sweater in her hands and, in that cross-armed motion that is impossible to describe, shucked it off over her head. My beautiful Mother, sitting there on the couch with me, half-naked and with her tits hanging out. They were, I must say again, perfect. They were not so big that they hung down, but sat proudly on her chest. My eyes, as you might imagine, were cemented on them but I finally raised my gaze to her face.

"I love you, Mom. I love you completely."

She looked at me, this time without a smile, and replied, "I know you do, Bill. I know you do, and I love you."

I put my arm around her, and hugged her to my chest. I loved the feel of her naked breasts against me and tore my shirt off so I could feel them, skin on skin. My hand was on her bare back, and I rubbed it lovingly. She lowered her head slightly so she was looking down at my lap, and almost shyly she moved her right hand to put it over my dick.

Here we go again with the superlatives. I know I keep saying it, but it's the damned truth. I don't care how much experience you might have had, but every little step of your way with your Mother is the absolute best you will ever have.

The first time your Mom puts her hand on your hard dick...well...you'll never have it better than that. She measured it with her hand, it seemed to me, and gave it a squeeze. "Feels pretty big, Billy. I've always wondered."

I wanted nothing more than to get it out so she could be sure, and reached down to start to undo my belt buckle.

She stopped my hand with hers. "No, Honey. I know what you want, but not now. I don't want our first time to be hurried, or furtive, or scared. Your Dad doesn't come home early very often, but I don't want us to be interrupted again. Can you wait? Is that okay?"

My heart leapt. Having your Mom acknowledge, while she has her hand on your dick, that she is eventually going to give you a blowjob is almost as good as getting the blowjob itself. Do you understand that? Now there was no more pretense or wondering about what we were doing, and what we were going to do. She had her hand on my hard dick. She wanted it, and she wanted that first blowjob to be perfect, not hurried.

"Mom, you will always be in charge. I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. If you say we have to wait, then we'll wait."

She sighed, a happy satisfied sigh. "I'll make it up to you, I hope. But now is not the right time. Thank you, Honey."

I laughed. "Oh, I think you'll make it up to me just fine. There's no doubt in my mind."

She laughed, too, and any tension that had been between us was broken.

She sat up, and pushed her chest out to me. "Give them one more kiss, Honey, and then I'll have to put your toys away. But be gentle. I think they're a little raw after the workout you gave them."

I reverently kissed each nipple, then she put her sweater back on while I put my shirt back on. She took my hand and led me into the kitchen. "I think we're ready for coffee now, don't you?"

We sat and talked about everything, but that. We didn't have to. We were a man and woman who clearly had a mutual desire for each other, knew the desire would be consummated at some time, and didn't need to dwell on it. There was no angst, guilt, or tension between us.

Now you might be disappointed in me. You might think that I should have whipped my dick out, pushed her face onto it, and gotten that first blowjob. Right then. No waiting. Maybe six months ago I would have done that. But six months ago, I just wanted to fuck my Mother. Now, I just wanted to love my Mom. It was her choice how far we would go, when we would go there, and how we would go there. If she ultimately decided she didn't want it, then I would respect that. I wanted her to know how deeply I loved and respected her, and waiting until she was okay with it was a big part of that.

As the afternoon drew on, I finally stood up. "I'd better go before Dad gets home."

"Yes," she said. "I think that's a good idea."

She walked me to the back door, and we kissed gently and affectionately. The kiss didn't have the passion of the kisses when I arrived, but was loaded with love. We agreed that I would come Saturday for supper, and I left.