Hard Times with Mom Ch. 13

bykylewhitney©

Author's Note: I hate to do this--I would rather let the story speak for itself--but, I want to share a few comments, and hope I can do it without sounding like I'm making excuses or apologies for my choices.

First, I want to warn you that this is a long chapter. I originally planned to do this part of the story in three smaller chapters, but I decided not to 'drag' it out and instead conclude it all in one big shot.

Second, I wanted to let you know that there's a lot of plot and character stuff going on in the first half of this chapter. The longer this story went on, the more complicated things became. I grew surprisingly attached to these characters, and so I wanted to do their story justice. My hope is that if you've followed them this far, you will forgive my indulging in a bit more melodrama than might be proper for a jerk-off story. I did my best to bring it all home with plenty of raucous sex in the second half, but I'll leave it for you to judge if I was successful.

As always, I offer my humble thanks for taking the time to read my story, and especially for voting and sending your much appreciated feedback.

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My cock was hard. Even after days of nonstop sex with my mother, just thinking about being inside her warm, loving pussy got me hard again. Mom and I had one final game to play, and this time it would be for keeps.

We pulled into the new subdivision of pristine, ranch-style houses and Mom hunted for our street. She looked over at me, beaming with hopeful anticipation. She noticed the undisguised bulge in my pants and her eyes lit up.

"And I thought I was excited to see our new place," she joked. Her hand reached reflexively toward my cock, but she remembered herself and pulled back, gripping the steering wheel tight with both hands. "Here's our street."

Some of the houses were still under construction; others had 'For Sale' signs out front. Ours was at the end of the cul-de-sac and stood out for its expanse of bright green, freshly laid sod. Mom pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. We sat in silence and looked out at the physical reality of this new chapter of our lives. Mom squeezed my leg and got out of the car. I took a deep breath and followed her.

"It looks great," I said, lending as much conviction to my voice as I could.

"It does, doesn't it?" Mom enthused. "It'll be even better with some plants. Maybe a peony over here, flower beds along the side over there, and a rose bush or two out front by the mail box. It's going to be perfect."

She fiddled with the keys, trying to steel herself to take that next step forward. I came up behind her and gave her a hug.

"Any place you are, Mom, will always be perfect." I turned her around to face me. Her eyes were big and sparkled with wetness. "One last kiss?"

"Honey, I never said we couldn't kiss anymore." She gave me a motherly peck on the cheek, and another quick one on the lips.

"I meant one last movie-star kiss."

"Oh, no, sweetie, not out here where someone might see." She looked around with guilty apprehension.

"Mom, there's no one here but us." I leaned in and she tried to pull away. I drew her firmly against my chest and kissed her. She resisted for a moment, then gave herself over to me. Our lips pressed tight, our tongues found one another, and our bodies came together like they were a tailored fit. When I finally ended the kiss, Mom pulled me back to her for more.

Instead of letting her have her way, I bent down and scooped her up in my arms. Mom screamed in surprise and I carried her up the walkway to the front door of the new house. She giggled and kicked her feet like a school girl, allowing herself to get swept up in the excitement. I held her while she unlocked the door and pushed it open. I gave her one more kiss, then carried her over the threshold.

We were home.

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The next week was an awkward series of days. Mom started her new job, and I began looking for work myself. Our new place was great, but everything was strange and new. Mom had the master bedroom, and I had the smaller room next to hers. I'd lay in bed at night, the air filled with the scent of fresh paint, new carpet, and a fading hint of sawdust, and think about her.

I knew she was just on the other side of that wall. Was she naked? Was she touching her body, or maybe caressing a nipple? Were her legs spread wide, and was she masturbating thinking about me inside her? These were the thoughts that occupied my erotic fantasies.

My mom was the only one I thought about when I became hard and stroked my cock in the lonely darkness. Her voluptuous full breasts, the delicate swell of her belly, the sensual curve of her hip, and my memories of the wet, welcoming embrace of her pussy fueled my imagination, never failing to induce a wave of longing pleasure as I jacked out each nightly load of cum onto myself.

But, as I said, things were still awkward between us for some reason. Life was hectic while we sorted out all the details of our new house and got familiar with the local area. Mom and I went shopping for food, and all the little things we needed around the house. I could see how she forced herself to hold back from touching me, or even standing too close.

I was struggling, too. I knew what I wanted, to take our relationship to another level, but I didn't quite know how to make that happen. I wanted us to be together, emotionally and sexually, in a grown up way. I loved every second Mom and I spent fooling around with each other, but I didn't want it to be just naughty fun between us. While there was certainly a lot of love in what we had been doing, there was also a great deal of pure fantasy fulfillment, taboo thrill, and base animal lust. I was determined to make it something more.

If all I wanted was sex from my mother, I had little doubt I could manipulate her into it. All I had to do was pick the right time, go to her bedroom, and force my way past her affected objections. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from giving in to me at some point and letting me fuck her. But then would come the guilt and shame all over again. I had to figure out how to transform our relationship permanently, and to do it in a mature and caring way.

Mom was away at work and I found myself in her bedroom. I was well aware that I was giving in to my more childish tendencies, but I couldn't resist snooping. I didn't expect to find anything particularly out of the ordinary. The movers had yet to arrive with the stuff Mom had in storage, so all that would be here was whatever she had brought in her suitcase.

Her hamper was the first place I explored and was rewarded with a pair of recently worn panties. I stripped down to nothing and took them and sat on her bed naked. They had that familiar musty smell of dirty laundry I remembered from when I was a boy. Her distinctive fragrance was embedded in the crotch of the panties and it induced my cock to a pulsing hard-on.

I laid them out on the bed and opened her panty drawer. It was less than half-full. I pulled out her cream-colored satin pair, the ones she had on the first time she let me see her pussy. I laid them next to the soiled pair. Next I fished out the turquoise blue panties she was wearing the day I caught her masturbating alone in the motel room. I added them to my line-up. I spotted her lacy black panties and took those out next. She had these on the day we arrived at Aunt Linda's. She had me come on her pussy then she wore these panties over the mess for the rest of the day. I swear I could almost smell a remnant of my cum on them.

When I looked back I noticed something out of place at the bottom of the drawer. I reached in a pulled out a frayed notebook. It was a one-subject spiral notebook, the type a kid would use for school. It was in rough shape. The pages were tattered, it was ripped across the middle, but had been kept together by the curly wire. Someone had meticulously taped each page back together. I opened it up and saw that the first page was filled with writing. It was in my mother's hand, all the letters standing straight and neat.

It took me a second to sort it out, but I realized it was a story. It began:

Meredith had always loved her son, but she yearned to express that love more profoundly. She was contemplating the unthinkable. She had decided to seduce her own son. She watched him now through the window as he mowed the lawn. Shirtless in the sun, his body was young, and vital. Meredith could see the strength in him, and it awakened a craving between her legs--an ache that only he could fill. Her hand wandered over her own body, touching all the most sensitive places and ending up inside her panties. Meredith's fingers sought out the warm, moist center of her womanhood, the place from where the boy she was watching with lustful thoughts had come into this world. She was touching herself as she spied on her son and was nearing orgasm when she heard her husband pull into the garage and slam the car door. He ruined her private moment, just like he had ruined her whole life.

I couldn't believe it. There was page after page of the stuff. Mom had actually written all this. And it must have been years ago judging by the condition of the notebook. I continued reading imagining Mom as Meredith, and me obviously as the son. It was a barely disguised version of our lives, and incredibly hot. The further the story went the filthier it got, and the raunchier the language became. It was like I could see her opening up before my eyes as she explored her darkest fantasies on the page.

I guess at some point she must have been overtaken with shame and horror at the feelings she was having, and the desires she was actually committing to writing, and so tried to destroy the thing. I guess she rethought it and put it all back together and kept it all these years. Not only that, it was important enough to her that it was apparently the only personal thing, other than clothes, that she packed in her suitcase when she left the house.

I got a chill up my back when I read how the seduction started with the mother in the story purposely catching her son masturbating, then showing him it wasn't anything to be ashamed of by masturbated in front of him to prove it. I was jerking off like mad as I read, picking out the parallels to what really ended up happening between Mom and me.

I came twice before I reached the end, both times into my mother's dirty panties. But I was disappointed to find that it ended only about halfway through the story. The back half of the notebook was missing. Not only that, but the final pages were singed around the edges as if they had been near a fire. I touched the burnt edge of a page and it flaked away as ash and a revelation struck me that completely reshaped my personal reality.

The tape was new, not yellowed or dried out like you'd expect if it was from years ago. The burns were fairly fresh. All the ash would have been knocked away by now otherwise. It wasn't my mother that had ruined this notebook, it was too precious to her.

It was my father. He must have found it recently and read it. I could picture him tearing it apart in a drunken rage, and throwing it into the fireplace in an attempt to obliterate the scandalous words that mocked him with his own wife's sexual desire for their son. I could picture Mom screaming and fighting, and rescuing her secret journal from the flames.

That's why he went downhill so fast. That's why he left. He started drinking more, lost his job, lost his house. Lost his family. Mom was too ashamed to tell me the whole truth. But she wanted me to know.

I realized she left her notebook here in this particular drawer because she wanted me to find it. Whether deliberately, or as a subconscious impulse, she knew I would go into her panty drawer at some point and find this. This was her way of telling me the truth.

I put the notebook back where I had found it. I replaced her clean panties, and put the dirty ones back in the hamper. My mind was spinning as I tried to re-sort my understanding of what it all meant. I hated my father less for what he had done, but I couldn't find it in me to condemn my mother. She never set out to hurt anyone. Mom did what she did out of love. Love for me.

It was all the more frustrating for the fact that I didn't know how Mom wanted the story to end. How did she dream that her fantasy would play out? There would have been so many answers in those lost pages that could have guided me as I tried to figure out what to do next. It was left up to me to write the end of our story.

I returned to the hamper and retrieved the panties stained with my semen. I left them in a crumpled ball on the corner of her bed. This way she would know. She would understand.

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It was our first Saturday in the new house when the awkwardness between us began to diminish. I woke up late. Mom was out somewhere, so I made myself a bowl of cereal and sat at the kitchen table. As I ate, I wondered if Mom had humped the corner of this table yet. My mind was occupied with the mental image of my mother pressing her hairy mound against the hard edge of the table and bringing herself to orgasm, when she breezed in with a couple of bags.

"Look who's finally up!" she teased cheerily.

"You're in a good mood."

"I heard from the movers this morning, they'll be here with our things this afternoon." She bustled around the kitchen putting the shopping away. "I've been living out of a suitcase for so long, I can't wait to finally get all the rest of my clothes and shoes and things."

"I have a second interview at that construction company Monday," I said and slurped the last of the milk from my cereal bowl. "The guy said I'm pretty much guaranteed to get it."

"Oh, sweetie, are you sure that's really what you want to do? You're so smart, wouldn't you rather do something less...dangerous?"

"You mean less blue collar? Nah, I like the idea of working with my hands. The money's good, so I'll be able to save up for school next year."

"Please don't worry about that, honey. I'll make sure your father pays for your school in the divorce settlement."

"I'd rather pay my own way. I don't need his money, I can take care of things myself." This was one of the few parts of my plan I had worked out. I needed to stop being the child and become my own man. Until I could do that my mom would never be able to see me as anything other than her little boy. I saw the concern on her face, but her eyes shone with a glimmer of pride.

She pulled some glossy magazines out of the last bag on the counter and sat down at the table with me.

"I picked these up and thought you might want one." She put the magazines down in front of me. Playboy, Hustler, and something called Fetish Girls. "I figured you might want something to look at when you masturbate." She picked up the copy of Fetish Girls, the only one wrapped in plastic. "I'm going to use this one tonight when I play with myself, so you can have the other two for now." She winked and headed off toward her bedroom with her dirty magazine.

So this was her idea of normal?

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Things loosened up around the house after that. The movers came with all the stuff from the old house, and that went a long way toward making the place feel like it was ours. I got up the next morning and Mom was ironing while she watched TV. She was wearing nothing but panties and a bra. I ate my cereal on the sofa so I could watch her tits jiggle as she worked. She noticed my hard-on in my boxers and just smiled knowingly.

I got the construction job and started right away. The work was hard, but it felt good to do something physical. There were cuts, and bruises, and sore muscles, but at the end of the day I could look at the results of my work and see what I had accomplished. Little by little I was helping to build something.

I was crashed on the sofa one night watching TV when Mom came in to join me wearing a sheer nightie with nothing underneath. I could plainly see her wide, brown nipples and the expansive dark patch of hair between her legs. It was all I could do to keep from pulling my cock out and jerking off right in front of her as I stared at her body, but I held back. I knew she was testing me, as well as herself. Mom was playing her own game, but I kept reminding myself that I was after higher stakes.

A few nights later, as I was brushing my teeth before bed, she hurried in, pulled down her panties and peed without saying a word. She wasn't showing off about it, but she could have easily used the toilet in the master bath. Mom was apparently working out exactly where she wanted to set our new boundaries.

I came home from work one sunny afternoon to find Mom had gotten home early. She was out on the back patio sunbathing topless. My heart raced with desire for her as I gazed longingly at her perfect, oiled breasts glistening in the bright sun. Memories of our outdoor escapades with Aunt Linda came to mind, and again I had to fight down my urge to give in to temptation and go to her. I showered and changed, hoping to cool my passion, but when I came to the kitchen Mom was there pouring herself an iced tea, still topless and looking like the sexy goddess of all my dreams.

"Hey, you're home early," I said, trying to focus my attention on Mom's face and not her nearly naked body.

"The power in the building went out, so they sent us all home." She sipped her tea and I couldn't help but notice how the condensation from the cold glass dripped down onto my mom's naked breasts. "Your aunt got me hooked on lying out in the buff, and I figured since we don't have any neighbors yet I may as well take advantage of it. You should come out and tan those pale buns of yours," she taunted.

"Actually," I heard myself saying, "I'm going to look at a truck a guy at the site has for sale." I wanted to grab her and pull her down right there on the kitchen floor. I wanted to tug that little bikini aside and bury my cock in her. I wanted to fuck her until her eyes rolled back in her head and she came all over my ramming dick. I wanted to fill her cunt with my cum.

"Well, I guess since I'll be here all alone I won't need these." She turned, and as she walked away from me toward the patio she pulled her bikini bottoms down and let them drop to the floor. I took a good look at her big, gorgeous ass, then had to force myself to get out of there before I lost control.

But, my greatest challenge came the following night. I had just climbed into bed and was lying on top of the sheets rubbing my cock to get it hard when there was a soft knock at my door. Mom poked her head in.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie, were you jerking off?"

"Not quite."

She took that as an invitation, and flipped on the light and came into my room. She had a flimsy robe on, but it wasn't tied, so it hung open in the front. Her big tits were covered, but her pussy was on full view. I noticed she had the fetish magazine with her as she sat down on my bed, her eyes taking special note of my exposed erection.

"I'm done with this magazine, so I wanted to see if we could trade." She opened it and turned to a particular page. "This one made me come at least ten times." Mom showed it to me and I saw a full-page picture of a busty brunette tied up in an abandoned warehouse. She was against a wall with her hands bound and suspended over her head, and there was some kind of bar between her ankles that forced her legs open wide. Mom leaned over to give me a better look at the picture, and her robe fell off her shoulder, exposing one of her breasts.

"That's really hot," was all I could manage.

"Just imagine being that helpless and vulnerable. Somebody could do anything they wanted to you and you wouldn't be able to resist." She looked at the picture again herself and I saw her bare nipple stiffen as I watched. Mom set the fetish magazine down next to me and picked up the other two off my nightstand. "Hustler is dirtier, isn't it? The girls spread their pussies and everything, don't they?"

"Yeah, Playboy is a bit tamer."

"I'll take the Hustler then, if that's okay?" She flipped through it in front of me as casually as if it were a copy of Better Homes and Gardens. "Are any of the pages stuck together?" She gave me a sly smirk.

"No."

"Aww," she pouted. "Are you going to masturbate after I leave?" Her eyes drifted back to my unflaggingly hard cock.

"Yes." I waited until her eyes came up to meet mine. "But I won't be using a magazine, I'll be thinking about you." I dropped my gaze to her naked breast for emphasis. Her hand went to her bare nipple, and she pinched it and rolled it between her fingers while I looked on.

"Okay, then," she swallowed uncertainly and covered herself up. "I'll leave you alone so you can stroke that big ol' cock of yours in private." I had the distinct sense that she was waiting for me to invite her to stay and watch, but I had to force myself to keep to my plan. She wasn't making this easy for me at all.

"Thanks," I croaked. "Have fun with your new magazine."

"I sure will," she said as she reluctantly got up and headed for the door. "Do you want this off?" she asked and I nodded. She turned off my light and headed back to her room. Mom left my door open, and it was certainly not by accident.

I ran my fingers up and down my shaft, energized by the fresh image of my mother sitting next to me almost naked. I heard a faint moan of pleasure. Mom had apparently left her door open on purpose, as well. The sounds of her masturbation became distinct as her self-pleasure intensified. This was killing me.

I knew I could step out into the hallway and look into my mother's room and see her playing with herself. She'd be sprawled out on the bed, completely naked, legs spread and fingers buried in her hairy pussy. She would be fucking her fingers and probably sucking on her own nipples. Mom wanted me to see her, she wanted me to jerk off while I watched her come. All I had to do was get up and go to her.

But I couldn't. I mustn't. I had to stay strong and trust in my plan. I stroked myself faster as I heard my mother's moans of pleasure growing louder. I couldn't let her drag me back into this pattern of childish sexual encounters.

Mom fooled herself into thinking that once her life was back on track she could just pack away her incestuous urges like some toys she had outgrown. But it was obvious she was realizing her desire for me was still burning within her. She didn't want to deal with it directly, though, Mom wanted to lure me into making the first overt physical move. In this way she could delude herself into believing it was me forcing myself on her, and she could convince herself she was the innocent victim.

I went to my door, intending to close it as quietly as I could. But then I heard her voice.

"I love my son's cock so much. Mommy wants her baby's big cock," she moaned to herself, but not in her usual whisper. She wanted me to hear. "I want it in my mouth, I want it in my ass, I want his cock in my cunt." Instead of closing the door like I had intended, I was instead standing there in my room beating off like mad to the sound of my mother talking dirty.

"It feels so good when I fuck myself and think of my little boy licking my cunt for me. He sucks his Mommy's pussy so good. I want to come all over his face. I want to come in his mouth so he can taste how much I love him."

That did it for me. My body tensed and tingled, and my cum gushed out of my cock, splattering against the door frame and down onto the new carpet. I squeezed the last drops out and licked them off of my fingers, just like Mom would have wanted.

"I need him in my cunt so bad. I need him to fuck my horny cunt. I want my baby to make me come again! Mommy wants to come! Mommy's pussy is going to come. Mmmmm, yes! Yes!" she cried out, not holding anything back. "YES!"

The frustration knotted my stomach and I almost felt like I was on the verge of tears. I knew that I could go to her room where she was laying only a few steps away. She'd be naked with her legs open, her pussy swollen and ready. She wouldn't even resist. I could walk right in and slide my cock inside her waiting pussy and it would be just like it was only a week ago. I eased my door closed and returned to bed.

I can't deny there was a moment when I became angry with her. But I quickly recognized it for the destructive feeling it was, and put it aside. She wasn't doing this to intentionally torture me. She loved me and wanted to be with me, she just didn't know how.

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"Are you mad at me?" Mom asked when I came into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning. It wasn't asked as an accusation, but more out of a hurt uncertainty.

"Of course not." I kissed her on the forehead. "Why would I be?"

"I don't know, I guess...never mind."

I was acutely aware of her own frustration and confusion in that moment. I wasn't rising to her sexual bait, and she couldn't figure out why. All I could do is hope that I was doing the right thing, and that my plan would eventually bring us even closer together.

A horn beeped outside.

"That's my ride. Have a good day at work." I gave her another quick smooch on the cheek and headed out.

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After that we remained open with each other around the house. Mom rarely closed her bedroom door when she changed, she'd use the toilet while I was in the shower, and watch TV with me evenings in her see-through nightie, or just a little tank-top and panties. For my part, I wasn't shy about lounging around the house in just a pair of boxers, or crossing the hall to and from the shower with nothing on.

I can't quite explain what it was exactly, but even with all this freedom things were somehow different. It wasn't so much like she was trying to entice me into violating her 'rules' any longer. She was now almost just flaunting herself, as if to say 'this is what you could have had and passed up.' She must have been feeling rejected, and was probably angry with me as well. Maybe not consciously, but on some level she wanted to hurt me for not playing her game.

I responded by doing everything I could think of to be the responsible adult. I began taking care of my own laundry, and made sure I never left a mess that Mom had to clean up after me. I normally got home from work before her, and began making dinner for us. It wasn't much at first, but Mom seemed to appreciate the effort. I took care of the yard, and even paid our first electricity bill myself. I had to make sure there was no way I could be considered the dependant around this house.

While I was doing all this, I never lost sight of how great my mom was. I loved her as a parent and as a woman. She'd had things rough and deserved for someone to take care of her for a change. During those weeks I was able to achieve some clarity after a lot of thinking and came to the realization that, even if we never had sex again, my mom was an incredible lady and I was lucky just to have her in my life. I made every effort to show her this with frequent hugs, and kisses, and little gestures that let her know how special she was.

Although I could sense the occasional undercurrent of tension between us, things were generally going well, until one Friday night when things got ugly. Mom had been out with some of the women from work, and she had a few margaritas in her when she arrived home. She was in a great mood and told me all about how some Japanese business men were hitting on them. She was all giggly and happy as she opened a bottle of wine to keep her buzz going.

Mom went and changed out of her clothes and came back to the living room in just a long night shirt. When she sat down with her glass of wine I caught a peek of her ass and could see she wasn't wearing any panties. We talked, and laughed, and were enjoying being with each other. After a quiet pause, Mom set her glass aside and tried to get serious.

"Sweetie, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

I turned down the volume on the TV, ready to listen.

"I've been thinking it over," she said, "and I haven't been very fair to you. I know I said we have to be like a 'normal' family now that we're getting our lives back in order, but I realized how difficult it must be for you. It wasn't right for me to just take everything away all of the sudden. You know what I mean?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking myself, and you don't have to worry. It's okay, I understand." Her expression told me this wasn't what she wanted to hear from me.

"You're such a good boy, and I know you're only saying that to make me happy. But I was thinking I don't have to be so strict about things as long as it's just you and me around here."

"I'm really all right with things the way they are," I assured her.

"Obviously we can't go crazy like we did before," she continued heedless of my response. "But I don't see any harm in being a little more open with each other in the privacy of our own home. For example, if you want to look at my pussy while you masturbate before bed, or something like that, it would be okay."

"You know what that would lead to, Mom."

"No, it doesn't have to go that far. We can tease each other a little and not let it get out of hand--so to speak," she giggled. "Look, I even have a surprise for you."

Mom pulled up her t-shirt a bit exposing herself to me. Before I could say anything she opened her legs and displayed her pussy. My objection caught in my throat.

"See? I shaved it for you a little." She showed off her new grooming style and I was struck breathless. She still had a thick tuft of hair above, but she had shaved the sides of her pussy clean. I could clearly see the rounded arc of her puffy outer lips, smooth and inviting. Her sensuous slit was no longer hidden in a dark pubic tangle. Mom's inner labia was already swollen with excitement and peeked out from the intimate folds of her bare pussy. "Do you like it?"

It was like seeing my Mom's pussy again for the first time.

"Of course I like it. I mean, I love it no matter what, but that is beyond sexy."

Mom practically glowed with joy at my reaction. My hard-on was pushing insistently within my boxers, but I kept myself from grabbing hold of it.

She reached down and spread herself open. Her stiff clit stood out in obvious arousal. Her engorged inner lips parted to reveal the fleshy pink within, and Mom's vagina was unveiled, open and beckoning to be touched and licked and fucked.

"Go ahead, sweetie," she whispered huskily. "Take your penis out and play with it if you want. Look at Mommy's pussy and masturbate your cock. It's okay, I want you to."

It was so tempting. I got up and moved to sit next to her. An involuntary gasp escaped from my mother as she focused on the bulge in my shorts, anticipating what might come next. I took her chin delicately and tilted her head up so she was looking at my eyes instead of my cock.

"You've had a little too much to drink tonight. If I let this happen you won't be happy tomorrow--with me or with yourself." I tried to keep my voice steady as I reasoned with her.

"I won't be upset, I promise, sweetie," she pleaded. "I want you to look at my pussy. I want to see your penis and watch you come."

"I know you do, and I want that, too. But not tonight. Not like this."

Her expression became one of almost confused panic. She dipped two fingers into her pussy hole, wetting them with her juices, and quickly brought them to my lips.

"Please don't say no to me. I need you." She teased her fingers over my lips. Her familiar scent was intoxicating. I felt my resolve weaken, and I couldn't stop myself from licking her fingers. "That's it, taste my pussy, sweetie. Mommy's cunt misses her baby so much." Her other hand found its way to my hard-on, and that snapped me out of my haze.

"I'm sorry," I whispered and tenderly took her wrists and put her hands down by her sides. "I love you, and that's the only reason I'm saying no to you tonight." I slid her shirt down to cover her nakedness. She looked at me not knowing whether to cry or scream. She decided to scream.

"Fine! I get it!" She stood up fast, almost losing her balance. "You had your fun with me and you're done! You got to shove your dick in your pathetic, horny mom, and now it makes you sick to even look my crusty old cunt! I know how it is!"

"That's not it at all, I--"

"Bullshit! You know, there's a million cocks out there that would love to fuck this old pussy of mine!"

"Don't be mad, please. Don't be like this."

"You decided this is how it is, so deal with it. I'm going to my room and fuck myself silly. Have fun whacking off all alone." Her last words came out as a sob, before she hurried away unsteadily to her room. Moments later I heard her door slam. My cock had shriveled up during the yelling and I felt like I'd never have another erection again.

I could hear Mom wailing in her room, and it broke my heart. I questioned everything in that moment. What was I doing? Was I going about this all wrong? I felt like it had been going so well, then in a matter of seconds it all fell down around my ears. I wanted to go to her and make it right. I wanted to kiss away her tears; tell her I was wrong; do whatever it took to make her happy.

Aunt Linda told me that I would know what the right thing to do was when the time came. I knew how much that must have hurt Mom, but I also knew what I wanted was right. And not just for me, but for us. I had to find a way to get her to understand that, but I didn't know how.

Maybe that was the whole problem. I was too young and inexperienced to deal with something this big. This wasn't little boyfriend-girlfriend fooling around crap. This was a mature woman, with a lot of experience and emotional history, who needed a mature relationship. Maybe she needed more than I was capable of giving her.

I spent the night on the couch, unable to sleep, but not wanting to go to my room where I'd be close enough to hear my mother weeping. After running through all the scenarios, and questioning all my choices, I was no closer to knowing what to do next when morning came.

Mom shuffled sheepishly into the living room wrapped in her long, terry-cloth bathrobe. She sat down on the chair, looking like she didn't want to be there, and took a long while before she mustered the will to speak up.

"I said some awful things last night," she began, unable to look at me as she spoke in a low, raspy voice--her throat raw from a night of crying. "I'm so ashamed about how I acted, and I--"

"You don't have to say anything," I interrupted.

She sniffled, and wiped her eyes before I could see any tears fall. "I owe you--"

"It's okay. Really." I went and knelt next to her and took her hand in mine. "You've got a lot going on right now with the new job and house, and dealing with the divorce. The last thing I want is to be another problem for you. You don't owe me anything. Especially not an apology, if that's what you were thinking. I love you more today, than I've ever loved you before. Honestly."

"I don't deserve it." She covered her face with her hands. "I don't deserve you."

I stood and drew her up with me. I locked her in my arms and held her as she cried into my shoulder. I was prepared to stay like that forever if that's what it took. After a while her sobs lessened, and she put her arms around me, returning the hug. She squeezed me hard, like she was clinging to the only thing in her life that made any sense.

I knew then that I had been right.

"I'm going to the mall today and get some new clothes," I said softly. "I could use some help if you're not busy."

"You don't really want me tagging along, do you?"

"You know I have no sense of style. I could really use your help."

"Are you sure?" She pulled away from my shoulder and looked hopefully at me. Even with reddened eyes and runny nose she was as beautiful to me as ever.

"If you behave yourself, I might even buy you a fancy lunch at the food court."

She smiled despite herself. "I better go get cleaned up then."

We exchanged one more quick hug and she headed for the shower.

The shopping trip started kind of shaky as we were both still a little guarded following the emotional fireworks. But after an hour of trying on clothes in various stores, we fell back into our comfortable way with each other. We ate lunch and had more fun than we should have people watching, and as a result came up with the maxim that the bigger the cowboy hat, the smaller the penis.

As we strolled around after lunch I took Mom's hand. She acted like it was no big deal, but I knew her well enough to know that she'd be worried about what people might think when they saw us. After a few minutes I felt her relax. She gave my hand a squeeze to let me know she was enjoying walking hand in hand with me out in public.

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After the blow up Mom had become suddenly modest around the house again. This was more than a little disappointing for me. My plan still precluded things going to the extreme between us, but it was nice to get the occasional peek at Mom's beautiful breasts or shapely ass. It was more than just the sexual thrill it gave me, it felt good knowing that she was comfortable enough around me to be herself and not have to hide anything.

I puzzled out what was going on one night while we were watching TV. Mom was once again wrapped up in her frumpy, terry-cloth robe, as she had been every night since that day.

"Aren't you hot in that thing?" I asked.

"A little, but I'm fine." A few quiet minutes passed before she spoke again. "Do you want me to put something else on?"

It seemed like a strange question at the time, but I answered without thinking much of it.

"I like that blue nightie--the one with the puffy shoulders."

At the next commercial break, Mom went and changed. She came back wearing the sheer blue nightie I liked. I could see that she had on panties underneath, but no bra. The way the nearly transparent fabric bloused around her breasts made them look even bigger than they actually were. Her nipples stood out against the filmy material betraying her excitement to be showing off for me once more. She did a little turn.

"Better?"

"Much." I smiled. She sat down and settled in with a contented grin.

After I thought about it, I figured out that she was letting me set the boundaries this time around. And I don't think it was so much a conscious design on her part, but more of a subtle acknowledgment that a certain amount of authority had shifted to me. In this one small way she was giving herself over to my control, and letting me steer the course. I confirmed my theory shortly after.

I went into her room one morning while we were both getting ready for work. She was in the shower and I knocked.

"Can I borrow your toothpaste? I'm out."

"I'm in the shower, hon, just a sec," she called back. I didn't wait and went ahead in. I grabbed the toothpaste from next to the sink, and as I turned to leave I took a good look at my mom behind the clear glass doors of her shower. Her hair was full of suds that ran in curvy rivers down her body. Her smooth skin shined wetly. She was a vision of pure sensuality.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," I joked as I left, never taking my eyes off her.

After that she resumed popping into my bathroom while I was in there to pee, or put something away while I was showering. This confirmed my suspicions, and I soon used my unspoken authority to reestablish our formerly uninhibited demeanor around the house.

For the first time I felt like I had a pretty good handle on things. That feeling sure was nice while it lasted...

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It was a Saturday evening and Mom had disappeared into her room and closed the door. I didn't pay much attention at first, but after she was in there for a while I went to check up. As I approached the door I could smell the strong scent of her favorite perfume.

"Hey, you okay in there?"

"You can come in, sweetie," she called in a merry voice.

I opened the door and Mom was standing in front of her full-length mirror in a smoking hot dress I'd never seen before. Her hair was done up, with a few tantalizing curls dangling down at the sides. She had two different high heels on.

"Which goes better?" she asked showing off each shoe in turn.

"What's the occasion?" I stammered, still stunned at how sexy she looked all dressed up.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I have a date tonight." She turned and consulted the mirror again. A dozen thoughts pinballed through my head, colliding with a wave of mixed emotions. I had seen her use this little passive-aggressive routine on my father before. I didn't know if I should be hurt by the fact that she'd turned it against me, or if it was a twisted sign that she was dealing with me as more of an equal instead of as a kid.

"A date? Geez, that's great," I lied without sounding the least bit convincing. "Anyone I know?"

"Nope. He's a salesman from one of our vendors."

"Nice guy?"

"Of course he's a nice guy," she tsked. "You think I'd go out with someone who wasn't nice? Give me a little credit, I'm not that desperate...yet."

Mom decided on the black heels with the thin criss-cross straps. The same pair she wore the night we went out to celebrate her new job. The same pair she had on when I made love to her for the first time. I felt like I had just been punched in the gut. Hard.

The doorbell rang.

"That's probably him," she trilled. "Go answer the door, I'll be out in a minute."

I opened the door and was confronted with a stocky man a few inches shorter than me. His ginger hair was thinning and going white on the sides. He had a broad face made broader by a wide smile that came across as that of a practiced professional rather than a genuine person. He held a sleeve of flowers, the kind you get by the checkout at the grocery store.

"My mom'll be right out."

"I'm Randy!" He said a little too enthusiastically, and held out his meaty paw.

"Yes you are," I replied a little snarkier than I should have.

I shook his hand and he had the overly firm grip of a typical salesman, but then he put a little more crush into it than was called for. I might not have looked like much of a tough guy, but my time on the job site had already begun to have an effect. I easily matched his pressure, then took it up a notch. I saw a flash of alarm register in his expression and he eased his grip. I held on for a few more seconds than was comfortable, just to be sure he knew where things stood between us.

"Good to meet you." He looked inside the house, flexing his hand without comment. "Nice place you have here."

"Thanks."

"Quiet neighborhood, looks like." He prattled on in his thick Texas accent, his body language indicated he was expecting to be invited in, but I wasn't letting him beyond the foyer. "I noticed you have the only place around here with lights on."

"It's one of the conditions of my parole," I said flatly. "No one can live near us after what happened to our last neighbors."

His smile faltered as he tried to figure out if I was serious. After a moment his smarmy smile returned, and shot me with a hopelessly lame finger pistol.

"Ah, almost had me there, boy. Don't forget, you're in Texas now. Try any funny business 'round here and we'll string you up quicker than a crawfish."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Are those for me?" We both turned at the sound of Mom's voice. She took the flowers from Randy and gave them the obligatory sniff.

"My, you sure do look great!" Randy didn't know where to plant his eyes and they danced from Mom's cleavage, to her hips, to her legs and back again.

"Thanks, a girl never gets tired of hearing that." She handed me the flowers. "Can you take care of these for me, dear?"

I took the flowers without comment.

"Yep, we should git movin', I made reservations at the steak house." Randy was eager to get out from under my glare and have my mom all to himself. My throat clenched, but I couldn't let Mom see how upset I was, for a variety of reasons.

"Have her home by ten o'clock," I called after them as they headed down the walk.

"That boy's tongue's gonna git him in trouble," I heard Randy comment only half-jokingly to my mom.

"Oh, his tongue gets him into all kinds of tight spots," she answered coyly, bringing a smile to my lips.

I watched them drive away, then closed the door. I dropped the flowers into the garbage and began the long, torturous wait for Mom to get home.

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Mom had another date with Randy the following weekend as well. I was a bit less on edge this time. It had become obvious to me over the week that my mom had no real interest in this guy. In fact, I don't even think she liked him that much at all. Which meant she was using him to get at me somehow.

One night at dinner, I ran through all the possibilities in my mind for the hundredth time. I looked over at Mom and wished I could see into that devious skull of hers and figure out how much of this was deliberate scheming on her part, and how much was merely subconscious acting out. I didn't want to have to call Aunt Linda for a professional opinion, but I was beginning to feel I was out of my depth.

After a lot of careful consideration, and exhaustive analysis, I settled on my next move. I headed down to the mall and started asking girls out.

It was a weird experience. I was always shy with girls, and never had the nerve to approach them. But I figured it was basically a numbers game, so there I was, walking up to complete strangers and striking up conversations. I got battered with a half-dozen rejections before I got a yes from a girl named Kim who worked at the perfume store. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you have a higher purpose motivating you.

We went out for dinner and a movie, and I did my charming best to make sure I'd get a second date. I never mentioned my new 'girlfriend' to Mom. I wanted it to be a surprise. For our next date I invited Kim over to watch a movie at my house. I rented a stack of DVDs, and cooked us a nice meal. It also happened to be the same night that Mom had a date with Randy.

Mom got home a little after eleven o'clock and was visibly shocked to find Kim sitting on the couch next to me.

"You're home early," I said. "How'd your date go?"

"Fine," she replied coldly. "Are you going to introduce me to your little friend?"

"Oh, sorry. This is Kim, we met at the mall last week."

"Hi." Kim peeped and gave Mom a cute wave along with a shy smile.

"Okay, I'll leave you kids alone. I'll be just down the hall, so keep it down."

With that Mom headed straight for her room at a pace that let me know she was none too happy. I felt a tinge of guilt, but if my calculations were correct, this was the right play.

"Your Mom likes midnight pleasures," Kim said out of the blue.

"Huh?"

"Her fragrance, 'Midnight Pleasures' by Dovanni. I can get it for her sixty percent off with my discount if she wants."

"She'd like that," and I couldn't resist adding, "my mom can never get enough midnight pleasures."

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Mom didn't say anything about my 'girlfriend,' although I knew it was eating her up. Kim was a sweet girl and I hated using her like I was, but I didn't have much of a choice. She called a few times during the week, and each time I waited for Mom to answer so she'd have to hand the phone off to me. It was a mean trick, but I figured every little bit helped.

Mom was playing her own tricks, though they were not nearly as effective. The day after Mom met Kim, I noticed the dirty magazines were gone from my room. I wasn't sure if this was her idea of punishing me, but she was definitely trying to send me some kind of message.

I decided to up the ante and suggested to Mom that we all go on a double date Saturday.

"I don't know if I'm going to see Randy again," Mom told me in a defeated tone.

"What's the matter? Won't he put out?"

"Don't get fresh, mister," she scolded and threw in a dirty look for good measure. "He's a nice enough guy, but I don't want to get tied down. I'm keeping my options open."

"Well, I promised Kim a night out. I can cancel if you don't want to spend the night by yourself."

"Don't be silly. You go have fun with your mall girl. I'll be fine on my own." Mom made the words 'mall girl' sound like something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe.

My mom had started up with another guy to make me jealous. And it did. If I hadn't known what she was up to it would have hurt even more than I allowed. When she saw me with a girl, Mom got a bitter taste of her own medicine. She realized how painful this game of hers was, and gave it up before we could hurt each other any further.

I had won this round, even though it didn't feel like much of a victory. Now it was just a matter of breaking up with Kim, and moving ahead with the final phase of my plan.

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Unfortunately, I still had no idea how to achieve that final phase. I had done a lot of work to this point. I'd established myself as a contributing member of the household. Mom and I had become more like partners and less like a parent and child. As difficult as it was, I had even stopped calling her 'Mom' when I talked to her. I had shown her that I wasn't going to follow along wherever she decided to lead me. She now knew that I had my own agenda, and my will was strong enough to follow it. And this latest exchange gave her a sense that I was tuned into her game, and could play just as well as she.

But now it was time to move beyond all those petty machinations and get to what was really important. I was ready to make the transition to being with my mother as a committed lover. It was time we stopped treating each other like sexual playthings, and forged a meaningful, mature relationship. Which, of course, would include all the wild, kinky sex that we both desperately wanted.

Kim and I went out for dinner on Saturday. I had planned on taking her to a movie as well, but I wanted to get home to Mom, so I broke up with her after we ate. I was hoping she'd be a little more upset, but she took it in stride. I can't blame her, I wasn't exactly the most attentive boyfriend under the circumstances.

I got home before ten o'clock and found Randy's car parked out front. Perhaps I'd declared victory too soon.

From the moment I entered the house I could sense something was wrong. As I tried to sort out what it was, I heard my mother scream.

"Get off me! Don't touch me! No! Stop it! No!"

My body was instantly flooded with adrenaline, and I was primed to detonate. I rushed to her room.

Randy was standing at my mom's bed, holding her down. His pants and underwear were crumpled on the floor at my feet. He loomed over her in just his shirt and shoes. Mom was kicking and struggling, continuing to scream. I wanted to tear his head off, but for a split second the possibility that this wasn't what it looked like entered my scattered mind. Maybe Mom was playing out another one of her many fantasies with him.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Mom, are you okay?"

Randy turned at the sound of my voice. His shirt was unbuttoned and his short, fat cock stood out in livid contrast to his pasty white belly. His hard prick was a deformed stump of a thing covered in thick blue veins. Its squashed head looked like it was put on crooked, and his yawning piss hole drooled a long string of clear pre-cum.

"Get lost, kid!" he roared drunkenly. "Your cockteasing Mom needs her pipes cleaned, and I'm the Roto-Rooter man." He grabbed his poor excuse for a cock and laughed.

"Go!" Mom called frantically to me. "Call 9-1-1!"

I couldn't see her face, but the fear in her voice told me everything I needed to know.

I was across the room and in Randy's face before I was aware I was moving. I was taller, and probably stronger, but he outweighed me by at least sixty pounds. He reeked of whiskey and beer, but the fact that he was drunk could work for or against me. I hadn't been in a fight since fifth grade, and had no idea how to defend myself. But none of these considerations actually factored into my thinking in the moment. In fact, I had stopped thinking all together.

Reality took a vacation when I crossed the room. It seemed as though I had stepped out of my body. Time slowed, my vision narrowed, every detail became sharp and vivid. My fist let fly of its own accord and connected with the left side of Randy's idiotic face.

He was still laughing when his brow split open under the force of my blow. The blood sprayed from the wound and his oily, salesman's smile was instantly drained away. Before the first drops of blood could hit the carpet, my other fist plowed into his jaw and I felt something crack. Then it was like someone flipped a switch and we were in fast forward all of the sudden.

I hit him six or seven more times before he dropped to his knees. My fists were covered in blood, and I was vaguely aware that it wasn't all his.

I brought my knee up hard under his chin. His head snapped back and he dropped flat on his back.

I fell on him in a blind rage ready to beat the worthless animal to death with my bare hands.

He covered up as I rained blow after blow down on him. My shoulders burned, and joints ached with the repeated impact, but none of that mattered.

I became aware of my mom screaming and trying to pull me off.

"That's enough! Stop! Please, stop!" she screamed.

The sound of her voice guided me back to sanity. Randy didn't dare uncover his face and remained curled up beneath me, hiding behind upraised arms. I struggled to catch my breath as I tried to order my racing thoughts.

"Do you know where his car keys are?" I asked Mom.

"In his jacket, maybe. In the kitchen. Should I call the police?"

"No, I'll take care of him. Wait here, I'll be right back."

I stood, grabbed Randy by the shirt and hauled him to his feet. I turned him to face me and he cowered under my angry glare. I seized him by his now limp cock and pulled him out of the room by it.

I dragged him like that to the kitchen where I yanked a butcher's knife from the block on the counter and held it menacingly at the base of his wretched little dick.

"No, please--"

"If my mother ever tells me she so much as catches a glimpse of you I will hunt you down and slice your balls off." There was a murderous menace in my voice that I'd never known I possessed.

Randy just nodded. His tears mixed with the blood flowing from his brow, nose and mouth.

"I'm not calling the police, because if I ever so much as catch a glimpse of you I will kill you without a second thought. I don't want this little incident to be on record when they find your mutilated body. No reason to make it easy for them, now is there?"

Randy shook his head as best as he could.

I slammed the knife down on the counter, which caused him to flinch violently. I grabbed his jacket off the floor and smashed it into his chest. He took it and held it tight as I once again dragged him painfully by his cock to the front door and out to his car. I threw him to the ground by the driver's side door, and barely resisted the urge to kick his balls into mush.

"Get the fuck out of here."

I left him lying there and went back inside, closing and locking the door behind me. I went to the kitchen and washed off my shaking hands. They were swollen and covered in small cuts, probably from his teeth, but I didn't think anything was broken. I splashed cold water on my face, and tried to calm down.

My mom was sitting on the edge of her bed when I returned to her. I was too keyed up to approach her just yet.

"Are you all right?" I asked immediately. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," she whispered. She seemed to be drifting in another world. Her night gown was torn, and I could see some red scratches high on her chest, but nothing that looked serious. "I opened the door, and he was there, and he just pushed me down, and I couldn't--"

"Don't think about it now. He's gone, and you're safe." I grabbed his pants and threw them out into the closet out of sight. I went to Mom's dresser and found a fresh night gown. One of her favorite flannel ones she always wore when it was cold.

"If you didn't come home when you did, he would have--"

"Let's not get worked up about all the 'what if's' and 'maybes'," I said gently as I helped her stand up. "Let's get you changed and into bed, and leave all that for another day." I lifted her ripped night gown, and she absently put her arms up so I could pull it up and off of her. She stood before me naked and exposed, looking so small and vulnerable. I quickly helped her on with the clean gown.

Mom fell against me, and I caught her in my arms. She finally broke down and began crying inconsolably. I just held her and let her get it all out.

"It's all my fault. I--"

"Don't do this to yourself, Mom." I pulled the covers aside. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I can't sleep in here tonight. Can I stay in your bed?"

We went to my room and I tucked her into my bed.

"Can I get you something?" I asked. "Is there anything you need?"

"I need you," she answered. "Stay with me, please."

I undressed down to my boxers and climbed under the covers with her. She turned with her back to me and I huddled up close behind her, wrapping my mom tightly in my protective embrace. I knew she was unlikely to be able to sleep, but I wanted her to feel as safe as possible.

As that long night slowly passed, I suffered an icy dread when I allowed myself to think about what my life would be like if I ever lost Mom. She was so much more than a sexual playmate, more even than the center of my world. She was truly part of me now, and I realized I couldn't live without her.

I held her tighter and resolved to never let her go.

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The next day passed in a quiet blur. I made Mom some tea in the morning, then ran down to the video store as soon as they opened and rented a bunch of those old black-and-white movies she loved so much. I got her set up in the living room with a comfy blanket and let her watch the videos while I cleaned up.

I scrubbed the blood out of the carpet and off of the tile in the kitchen. I put her torn night gown and Randy's abandoned pants in the garbage can out in the garage. His wallet was still in his pants, and I decided to hold onto it in case I needed it later.

Even though I didn't think she'd be in the mood to eat, I made us soup and sandwiches for lunch, then sat with her and watched the old movies for the rest of the afternoon. She obviously had a lot on her mind, and didn't feel much like talking yet. I didn't push matters, but stayed nearby so she knew I was there for her if she needed me.

Before dinner I convinced her it would be good to get out and take a walk. We strolled through the neighborhood hand in hand for over an hour. She was still quiet, but I somehow sensed that it wasn't fear or worry that was weighing on her, but rather she was lost in more of a contemplative silence. Again, I patiently stood by, and let her have her emotional space.

"Do you want to sleep in my room again," I asked Mom when it came to bed time.