What’s up Doc?

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; STORIES HAVE A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS]

*

Well, I couldn't act surprised. I had just turned 18 that very day. My beautiful mom kissed me, saying, "My baby's grown up. I'm so proud of you!"

My old man, a successful physician, was somewhat 'less effusive' in his praise and celebration. We had had some 'doings' in the past. He had kicked my girlfriend out of my room (which was separated by the garage from the main house) because he couldn't tolerate 'such behavior'; given me a black eye for talking back; and even slapped me for using a bad word...while going 73 on I-95! When I made the football team, he told me he wouldn't sign the injury waiver that absolved the school of any liability for injury.

That was reasonable, I assume, but he did it not out of concern for me. With the weight room hours and extreme fitness regimen, I was getting into spectacular shape. He would grumble that I had to wear a shirt all the time in the house. It didn't register in my brain that he was getting jealous, worried that my rapidly perfecting physique would draw admiring glances from a woman we both lived with. So, his birthday present was just a reminder that I was warned about getting out when I was 18...don't let the door hit you...and so on.

I moved out. I had to find a job fast, so I went into construction. At least it got me out in the sun, worked off my computer flab, even built a little muscle. By the end of the first year 'under the sun', I had grown three inches, gotten broad shoulders and 23 inch biceps. It was great until I got home and those aches started until the next work day began.

Meanwhile, my mother's marriage was in a tailspin. My mom (Sue) drove her big brown Caddy up to my place. Seeing her visiting me for the 1st time ever at my pathetic shack, I ran to greet her. My mom, Sue, was wearing a yellow billowy blouse, a wrap around skirt, and high white leather strappy sandals. She was only five foot two, but even at 41, her figure was still Barbie Doll perfect. Her only 'flaw' were breasts that, at 36D, were ever so slightly too big for her frame, making her look like she could fall over at any time. Her legs were always bikini wax smooth, her ankles slender, and her feet neatly pedicured, the red painted toes on her little feet cute, if not downright sexy. Funny thing was that after living with mom, the thought that she was also a woman, and quite a hot MILF, never occurred to me. Now, after a year of separation, watching her wiggle to my humble abode, her outsized breasts bouncing, I got just an inkling of wood down there, to my embarrassment.

I let mom in and gave her the biggest hug in the history of the planet. "So, how are things at home, and how ARE you surviving without me around?" I asked.

Mom's hands, laden with wedding and engagement rings, and a family heirloom charm bracelet (one of the hearts was mine), noisily caressed my newly bronzed steel hard body. She said, "My God, Jimmy, you're huge!" (Proudly, I flexed my arms honed by construction work; my biceps bulged to their 23 inch max) "To think that you were sick for maybe 12 to 18 months when you were ten. I worried day and night about you. But now, to see how strong and healthy you've become, it's a great relief." Her hands continued their assault on my powerful arms, finishing with a final soft touch and gentle squeeze.

I asked, "I'm delighted you came to see me, finally. What brought on this welcome desire to see me, though—is there anything wrong?"

She said, "No sweetheart. [She bit her lip] I did want to see you before I had the operation. I went to one of daddy's friends who said that my... do you really want ALL the details?"

I said, "YES, mom! If you can't tell me, then who can you talk to?"

She continued, kissing me on the forehead, "I am sorry honey, but this is kind of intimate. The doctor told me that my ovaries were pre-cancerous and he would like to do a complete hysterectomy, in fact removing virtually all of the 'woman parts'. In his opinion, it's the only way. So I came here to see you before, just in case something went wrong."

I said, "Wait, 'one of daddy's friends'? Did you get a 2nd opinion?"

She said, "Why would I? That doctor is a diplomate on the board. "

I said, "Look, you're scheduled for surgery 2 pm tomorrow? Indulge me; you will see a doctor in the city (Manhattan), an ob gyn, but today. I will think of some excuse." I got out my cell phone, used the Bing search, and found an experienced female ob gyn in New Rochelle, not far from our Connecticut abode.

I was going to give them a real sob story. Instead, I 'manned up' and told them the truth: this was a last minute second opinion.

Mom looked very uneasy. I had booked an (unnecessary?) appointment which would require us to drive miles out of our way thru New York area traffic. If this DIDN'T work out, she would not be visiting me again for years, if ever.

I drove her big brown floating boat, the Caddy. Built before Caddy's got all 'euro' with great handling, this one floated over expansion strips and potholes. After the 1st hour, I actually preferred it to the precision German-type Caddy's we had now, with their sharp jouncing and buffeting over New York area roads (which are as cratered as the moon, by the way.) We got to the offices in suburban New York. I walked with mom all the way, even into the examining room. The doctor was surprised that I was there.

She said, "We don't normally get sons who are so dedicated to the health of their mothers, nor moms who admit they need the moral support. Let's get started. Feel free to stop me and dismiss your handsome son whenever you want to. I have to warn you, I've been told I have the coldest instruments in the state. Sorry about that!"

I held mom's hand. She squeezed increasingly hard as the exam got to its 'high point'. The good doctor told mom to get dressed and meet her in her main office as soon as we could. There was no rush, as we were the last patients and the only other people in the office. I had the oddest feeling; my beautiful mother was putting her clothes back on as I turned away. The fact that she had the confidence in me to be nude in the same room made me feel proud, confident, even a bit excited. It would be nice to say I didn't sneak a peek; well I was a good boy and never once turned around. It wasn't my fault that the doctor's cotton dispenser was in a flat sided rectangular chrome box with 100% mirror clarity. Oh, man...mom! Well, at least I never turned around...

Mom held my hand firmly as we got to her office. She motioned for us to sit down. On the desk were x-rays, her notes, and a prescription for a pain killer, standard issue after such an exam. She smiled at us. "You will be happy to note, I see absolutely nothing wrong with anything in there. I mean not the slightest growth, benign or otherwise. Based upon my 20 years of experience, I can tell you that you are as healthy there as anyone 41, or 31 for that matter. By the way, you are close to your peak fertility, too, if you were wondering."

Mom stood up and rushed to the desk, shaking her hand with shock, relief, and appreciation.

The doctor said, "It was wise of you to get a second opinion. Too many people rely on no second opinion or ones made by cronies of their physician. This might have saved you an immeasurable loss to your feeling of self; I'm as relieved as you are. Thank you for coming to see me."

As we drove home, I told mom I had something to tell her I was holding back. When she came to visit, I was going to tell her, but the impending operation and worries about it superseded it. I began, "Mom, I don't know how to say this. You have told me that you had tried to have more children. You said that he had blamed the problem on you and that 'quack' that was going to open you up tomorrow confirmed his theory. Well, now we know that that was a lie. Now, I hate to tell you something else that will burst a bubble. Well, according to a friend of dad's receptionist I dated, dad has been seeing a number of his middle- aged patients after hours. He apparently flaunts his cheating ways pretty openly in some parts of town. God, I'm sorry to be the bearer of this news."

It was the first time I had seen my mom literally turn red. She fulminated, "So, he said I was infertile when he just wasn't interested in our marriage and family? His medical meetings were trysts with the local town sluts in downtown speakeasies? I think we will have to do a little more investigating, but it looks like my gorgeous hunk of a son has saved me a 2nd time in one day." She beamed at me and caressed my muscular right arm as I drove. She reached over to muss my hair, straightened it, telling me that she loved me. It was the nicest thing I had ever heard.

We tried to drive home, but the New York area traffic was a solid wall now that we were going with traffic and during rush hour. Mom got on my cell phone and called off the procedure, citing a medical problem that just arose (our new doctor would help us there, too.) When traffic literally came to a standstill and sirens were passing every few minutes, mom directed me to go to a hotel near the freeway off ramp. She said, "Mal is at one of those 'monthly medical meetings' up state, so he won't miss me. I can't stand traffic, semi trucks, sirens. Let's grab a couple of rooms and relax for tonight."

Fate dictated what happened next. Mom had an overnight case that she kept in the trunk for just such contingencies. It wasn't much to check in with, but an AMEX card gets you in to any hotel in America. Mom checked the box on the registration card for 'husband and wife' by mistake. The clerk said, "Well you two are in luck; we have just one room left, the bridal suite. As it's the only room, we won't charge you more than a simple king sized bed. Have a nice evening."

We went to what they called a 'lounge'. Mom uncharacteristically had three whiskey sours while I had rum and cokes to match (when I went to the men's room, I tipped the bartender to make that Coke from the well only, no rum). We then went to our room. As we approached the room, a huge moth was hovering by the yellow light over the outside walkway. Mom was incredibly squeamish and almost leaped into my arms. I swatted it and it flew away. Mom was still quaking, holding tight to my oversized arm muscles. Then there was a roach big enough to be saddled scurrying about. Now mom DID jump into my powerful arms, hugging me close, insisting I carry her.

I opened the motel room door; they gave us a really nice big suite. I carried mom and her overnight kit. I dropped the kit on the desk by the door and kicked the door closed. Mom looked at me and we communicated almost telepathically.

Mom said, "Please, Jimmy, don't put me down. Don't ever put me down. You just carried me over the threshold." Our lips met, our kiss passionate, penetrating, made with love.

I gently put her down. "Jimmy, you saved me from a needless operation, opened my eyes about a certain cheating husband, helped me thru a tough medical exam, and said you'd always be there to help me. God help me, but I love you so much!" She stood up on tiptoes in the sandals, kissing me on the cheek. She grabbed the overnight bag, saying she'd be right out.

I wasn't sure what was happening, I mean, this was my mom and all. She never gave the slightest indication ever that she had more than an innocent motherly love for me.

I took off my clothes except for my boxer shorts and did some pushups, holding onto the low dresser as a base. Feeling good, feeling pumped up, I checked my stuff in the mirror. Flexing my hard construction work muscles, my biceps bulging, I felt kind of proud. I have to confess, I was so absorbed by my own image, that I had not noticed mom when she came out of the bathroom. All of a sudden, as I stood admiring my Mr. Olympia pose, muscles making like small mountains, I felt the most delicious feeling I had ever felt. I stood still and there it was again, a soft scraping against my sensitive sun-burned back. I turned rapidly and saw my gorgeous mom, wearing only bikini underwear. Mom's oversized 36D cup breasts had been dragged back and forth across my back, the throbbing erect nipples sticking out like thumbs.

Face to face, as man and woman, for the first time, I was in total shock. Mom had a much cooler head in these matters, and reached into my boxer shorts. She exclaimed, "Oh, my God, give me the strength...your penis is gigantic. My God, you are so much bigger than your father; I mean 2, 3 times as big. And your family jewels! [She cupped my balls, heavy with seed, swollen to the size of oranges] As they said in Blazing Saddles, you are too much man for him to compete with. He'd need an army to defeat you. My hero!" She rose on her beautiful bare feet and kissed me, this time on the lips.

Well, I had a moral dilemma here. Did I flaunt society's taboos? Should I be a good 'little boy' and call my father to get his opinion? Perhaps I could call the night clerk, the one playing Halo III, and get a 2nd opinion? OR, just do this: I picked up my petite mom in my construction powered arms and threw her gently to the middle of the big king-sized bed. I ripped off the boxers and got between those shapely legs. Mom's hands were welcoming me as she encircled her entrance with both hands. I could take a hint and let her take over, allowing the big uncut head of my eleven inch cock to fall into her waiting hands.

Mom used my powerful fucktoy as a sexual aide, holding it as best she could with one hand, swirling it just inside her slavering pussy lips, moaning in pleasure. In the middle of this, she stopped. She looked at me and said, "Jim, I'm not too old, like your father told me, am I? You still find me sexy? Am I just using my son who's too polite to speak up? Is my act of gratitude here and now violating something that you believe in?"

I said, "Mom, you're not too old. To be blunt you're still the most desirable lay in the world. I never thought of you as a sex object till earlier today, when I realized I had a beautiful mom. More than a few guys told me years ago that you had a fantastic figure; that they secretly stared at your plump breasts, shapely legs, and the rest of the package. I never admitted it to myself, but when they talked like that, it got me hard. If I had known you had had all of these marital problems, I would have taken you out of that home, whether I could support you or not."

Mom said, "Enough talk, sweetheart. Let's do it now; express our new love, our old love, our eternal love." She reached down and scooped my leaden balls, drooping with the weight of saved up sperm. "Now that we know that I am healthy and very fertile tonight, why don't we see if we can unburden you of a few million of your lively potent young sperm? Your task is to get them from here (she shook the huge swollen bull sack), to here (she pointed to her fertile vagina). If you weren't told before, that's how babies are made. [We both laughed and kissed] Your turn, darling."

I manfully centered my cockhead at the entrance and plowed in. My enormous cock was greeted with the warmest, tightest grip a man has ever felt. I gingerly pushed in the final 3 inches, careful not to hurt my fragile mom. Mom cupped my swaying bull sack, hefting it one last time while it was still awash in sperm-laden semen. She kissed me hard on the lips, giving me the go-ahead.

I didn't know if the motel clerk would get complaints, but it was 10pm and we were fucking like demons. My uncut large cockhead had scraped, tingled, or just plain rubbed against every part of mom's fertile cunt. Mom moaned in orgasm at the first entry, at the midpoint, and now as she approached the grand climax. I was above her watching, and all of a sudden she let out a moan.

I quickly fell to kiss those lips. My waiting cockhead swelled, the slit expanding to an opening the size of your third finger. With a manly cry, my balls propelled bombardments of frothy, potent, baby-making sperm near the cervix, the uterus, and all over her womb. As the rapper said, "I got in her womb, and my dick went boom."

My excess seed was oozing out around my giant cock, trying to escape her fertile womb. But, I was not about to let those critters escape the corral. I kept inside mom, determined (all of a sudden) to get her pregnant. We kissed passionately.

At that very moment, I could just reach the phone. The clown at the front desk said that there were some complaints.

I said that I was just doing my nightly exercises but that I would stop. I hung up and then swooned to kiss my gorgeous mom, who laughed at my phone conversation. I went to her ear and whispered, "You're not too old, mom. No woman I've seen is nearly as young and beautiful as you. Your new doctor has confirmed you're as healthy and fertile as a woman 10 years you're junior. You've finally learned about your cheating husband. And now you have received all of my pent-up love, my saved up sperm. It's all inside you. It's only purpose now is to make babies, inside of you. My huge cock, my heavy balls, they are all dedicated to getting you pregnant tonight and, if you still want me, getting you pregnant the next time, and the next time. As long as you have a fertile vagina, I pledge on my life that I will supply quarts and gallons of my virile seed, all with one goal. One day, you will have a swollen belly, and that beautiful sight, you carrying my babies, will get me hard. I will get hard whenever you enter the room, my balls will swell up with baby-making sperm. If you are fertile, I will always be around you, waiting to fertilize your sacred womb, filling it up with child. I swear to you about that. I love you, mom."

Mom hugged me tearfully. She stared angrily at the phone, remembering that nasty call we got about noise.

I told her in hushed tones that I knew what to do. I got on my back and put her in cowgirl position. Using my powerful construction worker arms, I slowly lifted her and lowered her, again and again, silently and gently. Sure enough, even at that low speed, mom eventually fell over and kissed my lips. I reached up slowly and quietly and grabbed her firm, slightly moist, behind. Clutching it firmly, I arched my back and penetrated her as deeply as possible, releasing salvo after salvo of my baby batter, alive with potent seed. The region that was to have been cruelly removed unnecessarily tomorrow now was fully used and appreciated; squiggling sperm covered every square pubic inch with potential life. It was just a matter of luck, I suppose.

Talking about the fates, what was the chance that he would find us and call, at 4 am? Actually, the credit card company had called him with an alert, insofar as he was clearly using his card in one city while someone else was using his card in a distant city. He asked where and what the charge was, told them it was nothing for them to worry about. He then called us.

I put it on speakerphone.

He screamed, "I heard you're just a musclebound punk who walks around, waving his huge penis in the faces of women who have no interest in a boy like you. And now it appears you've run off with that broken down old mother of yours. Frankly, I will just say good luck and good riddance. I can do a lot better, and with women who don't want complications or children, which is perfect. Who wants either of those, even if I could make children anymore? Your fleabag of a mother didn't know that I got a vasectomy before we got married; that I actually got the son of my head nurse to provide a sperm sample for his checkup and I used the seed from him on a rubber to knock up that hideous witch--your mom. Well, if you have her, you're stuck supporting her. I figure you two will be begging me for a property settlement; you will take ten percent and be grateful...oh, have a nice night!"