It promised to be one of those hot, muggy days such as you can only get in the valley, and I was sweating before I even reached the kitchen. I popped a soft drink from the refrigerator, stepped through the door to the patio, and stopped dead in my tracks.
There, not ten feet in front of me, my young mother was down on her hands and knees, scooping leaves out of the swimming pool, with her pert ass thrust provocatively up in the air. She was wearing the bottom of a persimmon-colored bikini and a loose-fitting, white tee shirt that swooped way down. The outline of her cunt was painfully obvious where the material of the bikini had snugged up against it and, gazing at her from the rear as I was, I could see her breasts hanging down, like ripe fruit, in the subdued light of the tee shirt.
My jeans started becoming intensely uncomfortable as my cock swelled in appreciation of that tantalizing view, and I knew there was nothing for it ... I had to cum.
As quietly as I could, I stepped back through the door, set the soft drink on the counter, and took the stairs two-at-a-time. The image of that persimmon-colored pussy seemed to be burned into my retinae and, very suddenly, the idea of plowing my prick into it - long and hard and often - was the only thing I could think of.
I stepped into the bathroom quietly and had my prick in my hand even before I closed the door. I leaned against the sink and closed my eyes, trying to recall every curve and hollow of that beautiful ass, trying to remember every nuance of light and shadow on those mar-velous tits, trying to imagine what the warmth and texture of that slit would feel like as my rock hard shaft slid into it. Slowly, teasingly, I began stroking my cock.
Oh, man, to be pushing through those pussy lips right then! To feel that tight sleeve giving way to my swollen cockhead! To hear her moan with pleasure as I impaled her on my throbbing root!
I started stroking faster, almost feeling the wetness of her, almost feeling the warmth, then a slight noise behind me broke the thought and jerked me out of my fantasy. My eyes snapped open in alarm, and there in the mirror - arms folded and leaning against the bathroom door - was my mother.
"M ... Mom!" I stammered. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough," she answered.
I braced myself for the tirade that I knew would follow, and was flabbergasted when, rather than scolding me, she stepped up close and hooked her left arm around my waist. "Here," she said evenly, "let me do that for you."
She took my turgid prick in her hand, and started stroking me expertly, as though she had performed this task a thousand and one times. I started to protest, but the words wouldn't come. The warmth of her hand, the slow, loving rhythm she was using to pump my hard shaft stifled them in my throat. Our eyes met and locked in the mirror - Was that a hint of a smile on her lips? Were those her breasts boring into my side? Was that her cunt grinding against my hip? - and I just sort of relaxed and let her do it.
It didn't take long for the loving strokes to overwhelm me, for the pressure to build. It didn't take long for my eyes to clamp shut, for my body to stiffen. And it didn't take long for the powerful spurts of my thick, grey-white jism to erupt across the sink.
Mom kept stroking me as I shot, even though my glans was super-sensitive right then, and my body twitched and jerked each time her hand passed over it. She milked me dry with her fingers, squeezing the last, sluggish drops of cum out of my withering prick, and I was almost ashamed to look at her. My legs were shaking from the intensity of the orgasm and I wilted against the edge of the sink.
When she was satisfied that my ejaculation was over, she looked down at a thick smear of my cum in the palm of her hand, raised it to her mouth, and licked it off the way you might lick the blood from a small cut. "Mmmm," she moaned huskily, "that's too good to waste."
She turned then, sat down on the toilet, tugged me in front of her, and took my flagging cock in her mouth.
"Mom?" I asked stupidly. "What are you doing?"
She didn't answer. Her lips glissed forward and back on the shaft of my prick a few times, then I felt her tongue wiping the residue of jizz off my swollen glans. Amazingly, my cock started to stiffen again in the insistent warmth and wetness of her mouth.
I looked down at her, but all I could see was the top of her head, and, even as I watched, that head pushed forward again until the entire length of my thick rod was crammed into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. And the power her mouth had over me was unimaginable.
The tingly sensation seemed to start right at the head of my dick and radiated out to the rest of my body; a sultry wave of darkness inundated my brain, and the only thing I was aware of were those marvelous lips sliding smoothly back and forth along the shaft of my rigid manhood; the only thing I could hear were the slurpy noises coming from her mouth..
I tangled my fingers in her hair, my hands riding back and forth on her head, and felt the pressure building in my groin again. I felt my cock swell even further in her mouth, and, with a low groan that I couldn't control, blew my nuts down my mother's throat.
Mom groaned, also - happily - and I could feel her tongue squishing my sperm against the roof of her mouth, savoring the taste of it before she swallowed. And she swallowed ra-pidly. Surge after surge of the thick, white fuck spewed into her hungry mouth, and she chewed lightly on my rock hard crank as the flood gradually diminished.
She used her lips to milk the last dregs of cum from my softening cock, then came off the end of it and licked the heavy globules off my shaft. Her eyes were shining brightly when she finally stood up.
She leaned forward then, smiling, and kissed me fully on the lips. I felt a little repulsed at tasting my own cum on them. "God, that was good!" she purred, looking squarely into my eyes. "I haven't had a load like that for a long, long time."
"Mom, I ... "
"Get that mess in the sink cleaned up," she interrupted me, "then come downstairs. I'll cook you some breakfast." She gave my cock one last squeeze and slipped through the bathroom door as quietly as she had come in.
I sagged against the sink on trembling legs and regarded myself in the mirror. "Jesus," I muttered to my reflection, "imagine being sucked off by your own mother."
And, outside the door, my mother heard the words and smiled. It was going to be good.
I came down the stairs slowly, not quite sure what to expect. The whole episode of mom pulling my meat, then giving me the best blow job I'd ever had, was unnerving. There just isn't a whole lot that can be said after your mother drinks your jizz.
"Mom ..." I started, as I walked into the kitchen, but she held up a hand to silence me.
"Let me talk first," she said evenly. She set a dish of bacon and eggs down on the table, and lowered herself into a chair across the corner from me.
"Bobby, you know how your father's always on the road, right? You know how he stops by every two or three weeks to drop off his laundry and grab a quick piece of ass. ..."
"Mom!" I groused.
"Oh, come on," she replied. "Let's not be coy with each other. Not now. You know it's true as well as I do. Maybe that's what I get for being a trucker's wife. Anyway, the last time he was home, I found this in one of his pockets." And she tossed a pack of Trojans out on the table in front of me.
"What do you make of that?" she asked.
I frowned, looking at the torn, foil-wrapped package. "There's supposed to be ..." and suddenly I caught myself, about to say something that would hurt her feelings.
"Go ahead and say it," she prompted me. "There's supposed to be three of them in there, right? And there's only two."
Sheepishly, I nodded.
"And what does that mean? I'll tell you what it means. It means that sonofabitch is getting laid on the road, while I'm sitting here at home doing without. And I've got needs, too, Bobby. Every bit as strong as his."
"It's not right, mom." I said, nodding my head toward the pack of Trojans. I was at a loss for words. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," she said pensively. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about that. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, except I can't really see myself bringing home somebody from the office, or picking up some stranger at a singles bar."
She leveled her eyes at me across the corner of the table, then said what had been on her mind for a long time. "I've been thinking about you and me, Bobby. If we could manage to get together, I wouldn't have to go prowling around like some bitch in heat, you know? It would be right here at home, where it's comfortable and familiar. And I already love you, for Christ's sake. What could be so wrong about it?" I didn't respond. There was just too much to think about.
"Don't try to tell me you don't need it as bad as I do," she continued. "I've seen the wet spots on your sheets when I change them. I've seen the girlie magazines under your mat-tress. Why can't you get it from me instead of some inexperienced, little teeny-bopper under the bleachers?"
"It's against the law, mom," I said finally.
"Fuck the Goddamned law!" she blurted. "How are they going to know, if we don't tell them?"
And I had no answer for her. How, indeed?
"Look, Bobby," she said, laying her hand on my thigh, "I'm not a prude when it comes to sex, okay? I'll do anything you want anytime you want it. I've already shown you that I'll suck your cock. If you want to fuck, we'll fuck. If you want to eat a little pussy, that's fine with me. If you want to fuck me in the ass, we can do that, too. Anything, anytime, any-where. And I mean that."
I don't think she had any idea what her words were doing to me, and I didn't know how to tell her. "Jesus, mom!" I moaned.
She stopped talking then and squinted at me, trying to figure out what was wrong, and her eyes went wide with surprise when the understanding of it finally hit her.
"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured. "You're getting fired up just talking about it!"
She slid her hand up my thigh, bringing it to rest on the growing bulge inside my jeans. Deftly, she unzipped my pants and pulled my burgeoning cock out into the open.
"This is for me?" she asked, gazing at it dreamily. "Just from talking?"
Dumbly, I nodded my head.
"You do have a nice one, Bobby," she purred. "What do you want? More head?"
