Zee is my mother. I wanted to say that right up front because I want to tell my story straight. Anyway there aren't a lot of places you can tell a story like this unless people know what it's about beforehand so it seems silly to write half the story and then say "Oh by the way…" Who's surprised?
Zee is what everyone calls Zara Beth and she's lovely. This is going to sound corny but there is a glow about her. Maybe it's because of her coloring: fair skin with pinkish hues running from her cheeks to her breasts to her thighs. She has very full breasts. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this but the first thing I look at in a woman are her breasts. My mother has beautiful breasts but it's not the first thing even a clod like me notices; it's her smile. More corn coming: when she smiles at you, it lights you up.
The best part of her – well there is no one best part because she has lots of best parts. Someone being objective might say there are fine lines around the eyes or she should be 105 pounds instead of 110 but I'm not objective. And here's what I think: if you're objective about the one you're in love with – you're not in love. I'm in Love.
She called me her 'special K' was I was young (Boy did that make me squirm) but now it's Kevin when it's not 'dear'. She was always sweet to me and it probably kept me from going crazy or murder. When I was younger, my father's idea of a good time was beating on me. He did it for two reasons: because to him I was always doing something wrong and – because he could. My mother also caught a few trying to protect me.
Mom loves to write. She keeps a diary and writes something in it every day. She once told me that she's been doing it since she was thirteen. I always wondered and later fantasized about what and who was in that diary. For a while I made imaginary entries for her each night.
The first time I ever 'touched' her she was on a ladder in the grove. I was holding it and she was reaching for oranges. I ran my hands up her bare legs; under and out of the clear blue sky. When I reached her velvet thigh she said, "Oh Kevin please not here, he might see."
My heart raced because of the touch and more because she said, 'not here' which to me meant 'somewhere else'. I guess it wasn't a complete shock because we had been getting very close because of our 'conspiracy'. We had been talking for months about either calling the police on the bastard or saving enough money for a lawyer so she could divorce him without getting thrown out with nothing. We had taken to starting and ending our 'meetings' with kisses: kisses that had gotten longer each time.
It was a rough time financially. We live in Indian River County and have a small orange and grapefruit grove which only brings in enough to make life a little more pleasant than it would be with just our regular jobs. We all work for the fruit company and when the canker hits our hours are cut. This never helped my father's disposition. At least we had enough fresh juice every day to drink ourselves drunk.
We finally got a lawyer who got mom a restraining order and then a settlement which allowed her to keep the house and grove. Her diary with its daily record of all that went on was a big help. The day the bastard came for his things with a marshal waiting outside was one of the days I'll remember forever. We watched him from behind the breakfast bar as he grumbled and collected his crap. She stood behind me with her breasts in my back and her mound pressing on my ass. She was hardly moving but I was getting harder and harder – watching. It seemed like a wonderful eternity. I didn't care if it took him all day, I could have just stood there with her pressing, and me watching.
When he was gone from our house and our lives we held each other and kissed kisses of relief and kisses of longing. Her soft lips on mine and her soft tongue on mine knew there was no longer a reason to rush or hide. She pleasured my mouth with promises.
She kept those promises in the bedroom. It was the first time I saw her completely naked. Her thick long hair looked more gold than blonde in the soft light. It came down past her shoulders and some of it pointed to the wonderful globes that were startlingly full. Her pink nipples looked twice as large around as any I'd seen on either the few girls I'd gone out with or the many magazine pictures I'd come across. The light thatch between her legs looked invitingly soft. I went to touch it first and just held my hand there as we kissed.
We didn't talk much that first time but I do remember two things. She said "I'm going to do everything for my baby" just before she took my cock into her mouth and sucked me stiff; and then she said, "I want you in my pussy." That burned itself into my brain.
I had my mother's big breast in my hand as I pushed myself into her center as far as I could go. I was so hard and tight and excited I wanted to push through her. I could almost hear the wetness between her legs as I slid in and out her cunt. I was dripping from the heat and passion as I fucked into her: deeper and harder. At one point I thought her sounds were those of pain so I stopped and asked if I was hurting her. She said, "No dear…no baby, its good…don't stop …don't stop."
I didn't stop; I felt her hands on my ass as her nails dug in and she pulled me close. Her head went from side to side as she moaned and arched. I couldn't hold it any longer. I didn't know if I was feeling her channel grasping or my cock jumping from the spurts. I only knew I didn't want the feeling to ever end. It was release, relief and rebirth for me as I kissed my new-found love.
I thought we were happy over the next months. I thought we had everything we needed – each other; and each other was what we couldn't get enough of. She took me to her bed every night if I didn't take her to mine. She took me into her mouth and I took her into my heart.
There's a saying about loving so much it hurts. It started to hurt when I felt her pulling away. It wasn't anything noticeable at first, just a reticence. After a while I sensed a discomfort. When I asked her about it she always said it was nothing. Then the 'Zee business' started. She said she wanted me call her Zee not mom when we made love. The more I called her Zee the less we made love. Over a period of a few months my mother had distanced herself from me and there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it.
The strange thing about all of this was that when she was in my mouth I could taste her dripping. When I held her and kissed her I could feel her heat. When she sucked on my cock I could see her passion. And yet she pulled back.
Finally one evening she asked me to sit with her on the porch. If you've ever smelled orange blossoms as they bloom you know how intoxicating they can be. The air stays sweetly perfumed for weeks. The beauty of the night contrasted starkly with the words I never wanted to hear. "Kevin dear, I want to stop."
I didn't want to play 'stop what'? We both knew 'what', so I just asked her if she still loved me. "I'll never stop loving you baby; please don't even ask me that. It would hurt me terribly if you thought that for one minute. This decision has nothing to do with loving you."
