I am a guy that grew up in a pretty normal, conservative family. I don't know why I feel like I have to say that; I just do. Perhaps it's like that thing where whenever you see someone interviewing a stripper, hooker, or porn actress, they never fail to mention that their childhoods were all fucked up. I don't know. What I do know is that we were a pretty typical, two-parent, white bread family when I was growing up. And back in my day, that was in fact typical. You didn't have all the dysfunctional and broken homes that seem to be the majority today. A lot of the kids who were raised in those types of situations seem pretty messed up today. I'm not sure though, exactly how many of them were fucking their mothers.
Anyway like I was saying, we were pretty normal. I had an older brother and sister, we owned a dog and some goldfish, dad worked and mom stayed at home to take care of us. We weren't rich, but we were certainly better off than many folks were. Enough so that all of us kids attended Christian school from kindergarten through 12th grade.
Back then, I would never have guessed that things would end up the way they did, though I certainly had normal teenage daydreams and fantasies. Wasn't it Freud who said we all wanted to fuck our mothers? Well, he was right about that, but I'm not sure if he ever knew how much I wanted to fuck my sister also. These feelings came and went... usually into a handy tissue or the toilet! But seriously, I would fantasize about my mother one day, and then be lusting after the latest SI swimsuit model the next. I figured it was normal. Besides, an intense session of "fist bullfighting" usually released those desires and allowed me to move on to the next object of my violations.
Apart from the normal childhood or perhaps because of it, I was a late bloomer. I had gone out on dates in high school but not many. And the dates that I did go out on never went much further than a little bit of making out. As a result, I often ended my nights rubbing one out while thinking of my date, or more and more frequently, my mother. My mother was no supermodel, but there was always a sexuality about her that stemmed from her strength and confidence. She was of German descent, and was a solidly built woman. Though average height and only slightly more than average weight, she had a pixie-like face that would've been considered somewhere between cute and pretty. She had very soft light brown hair, green eyes, and she always seemed to have a floral scent wafting in the air around her. Her breasts were ample enough, though average in every other way. Her butt however, was firm and sturdy. It had a sort of squarish look to it when she was walking around, but when she bent over to pick something up, it seemed to magically flare out into this large heart-shaped ass that was often the focus of my daydreams. I often dreamed of planting my cock deep inside that heart-shaped ass when I was relieving myself after another frustrating date.
And so I suppose it would have gone on, never escalating to the next level, had my father not gotten his promotion. He became regional supervisor of the heavy equipment distributing business that he'd been with since before having any of us kids. The position required that we move closer to his company's headquarters, and that was how we found ourselves living in Ohio. Though we had moved closer to the headquarters, the job required that he spent a lot of time traveling, with many trips taking two or three weeks away from home as he traveled throughout the Midwest and Northeast.
It was also about this time that I discovered that my mother was a heavy drinker. I'd honestly never noticed before, maybe because my father had been there to act as a buffer between her and the rest of the family. As the baby of the family, I often got the lion's share of attention from my parents. But after my father started going away on his business trips, the attention I was getting went from intense to downright inappropriate. Me being the horny teenager that I was, I didn't mind when my mom started walking around the house in a bathrobe that fell open all too easily. The sight of one of my mother's breasts jiggling its way out of the opening of her robe truly tested the limits of my peripheral vision. And whenever I hugged my mother from behind as she peeled potatoes or carrots at the kitchen sink, instead of just patting my hands as she normally did, she started pressing her ass ever so subtly back into my crotch. I noticed that the bourbon bottles that were usually kept tucked away when my dad was home were now often in plain view on the counter, and often empty or nearly so.
This went on until I eventually moved out of the house to go to college. I tried to get home as often as I could to see my mother, since she was often alone in the house with my father away. But that tended to be fairly infrequently, usually for holidays. I could hear her loneliness when I returned the phone messages she left for me, and assured her we would catch up over the summer.
When summer came, I expected a bit of a welcome when I arrived home. Instead, my mother was rather cold to me, probably giving me a taste of what it was like for her while I was busy at school. But that only lasted a couple of days, and after that we easily fell into the old routines. That included the previously mentioned inappropriate behavior. That was a very busy summer for my father, and I think I probably saw him for three weeks out of the three months I was home. He left on another trip just a few days after I got home, and the bourbon bottles started making their appearance on the counter shortly thereafter.
The second weekend after I arrived home I went out to catch up with some old high school friends. I ended up getting in pretty late, and I tried to keep the noise down so I wouldn't wake my mother. But when I glanced at the kitchen sink and saw two empty bourbon bottles, I realized that I could be driving a tank through the living room, and she'd never know. I kicked off my sneakers and trudged upstairs to my room. I noticed that my parents' bedroom door was open, and a dim light was emanating from inside the room.
I tried to keep quiet as I passed the room, but what I saw as I went by made me freeze to the spot. On the bed, gently lit by the small reading light on my mother's nightstand, my mother was lying face up, naked from the chest down.
"Mom?" I whispered huskily as I turned my head to avoid looking at her. Upon hearing no response, I cleared my throat and whispered a little louder, "Mom!" But there was still no response. I finally went for broke. "Mom!" I said in a slightly louder than normal voice. But she was passed out cold and feeling no pain.
Looking around me to see if the coast was clear – which I admit was pretty stupid in an empty house – I crept into the room and to my mother's side of the bed. Lying on her back with her head turned away from me, I realized that my mother's nightshirt had somehow raised well above her hips, exposing her from just above her belly down to her toes. Her pubic hair mesmerized me. It was relatively thin, which surprised me. I don't know why, but I always figured my mother had a big bushy nether region. It was just a shade darker than the hair on her head, and looked downy soft.
I could feel my cock stirring in my pants just looking at her. Taking this unique opportunity, I bent down as close to her pussy as I dared and took a good look at it. I inhaled deeply to catch its scent, and the whiff of pussy and floral perfume made my cock as hard as I'd ever felt it.
My throat catching as I swallowed, I crept out of her room and into my own. Once there, I tore off my clothes and started stroking my fat seven inches. My hand flew up and down the shaft as I beat myself into a frenzy. I pictured my mom's sweet vagina sitting right there in front of my nose. Then I realized that if I had the balls to do it, I didn't have to picture it in my head. Holding my erect member in my fist, I crept back down the hall and into my mother's bedroom once again. I stood next to her and started stroking myself again as I stared at the object of my fascination. My breath was coming in raspy gasps as I cupped my balls with one hand and pumped my fist with the other. Without warning, I suddenly coughed, and my body froze. I remained perfectly still, waiting to see if my mother would stir. But she remained where she was, and I started working my cock once more. Then I took a bold step further. Realizing how out of it she was, I reached out with my free hand and gently touched her pubic hair. It was as soft as I imagined it would be. My breath was again ragged as I masturbated, and I decided to take a quantum leap further. Leaning far over the bed and over my mother, I planted my free hand near the middle of the queen size bed. Holding my cock with my fist, I lowered my body toward hers and ran the head of my cock over her pubes. The feelings that traveled up and down my penis were exquisite. I moved my cock head through her pubes again, reveling in the forbidden nature of the act. Gradually I pressed down a bit harder and made contact with her skin. I moved my erection toward the cleft between her legs. God how I wished I could be fucking her. As if sensing my thoughts, my mother stirred, and I bolted from the room. Pausing just outside her door, I didn't hear any further noises and figured I was safe. I went into my room and finished assaulting my cock until I came with a force I'd never experienced before in my life. I drifted off with a satisfied smile.
