Mom, You Deserve a Good Lover

byMaryAnderson©

Over the years I've enjoyed many a Literotica story recounting the happy results of a mother stumbling on her son's pornography collection, or a daughter finding her father's secret stash, or... You get the picture. I've been wanting to try something along those lines. Here it is; I hope you enjoy.

This story is fiction; Jodi Palmer, its heroine, and the Osé are not. Jodi is based on a court reporter I know. The Osé came to my attention when I read how it'd been stripped of an innovation award and banned from the 2019 Las Vegas Consumer Electronics Show for being immoral.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

Mom texted. She'd be working late covering a deposition for one of the firm's other court reporters. Since Dad was out-of-town I was on my own.

I texted Sharon, invited her over for a massage. A month after we started dating Sharon suggested we take a massage class taught by her mother, Alex. I, of course, said yes. Any excuse to touch Sharon or check-out her mother – there was no mystery where Sharon got her hair, a rust color in contrast to her mother's flaming red, freckles, and general good looks – was welcome. Added bonus: little got my girlfriend's engines roaring like receiving, or giving, a massage.

I set up the massage table in the home theater then headed for Dad's computer to down-load massage porn. The best place to hide a tree? A forest. The best place to hide porn? Dad's computer, which was stuffed with it without discernible pattern or organization. My plan: spice up our massage by running massage porn – massage morphs into big-dicked masseuse fucking hot female client – through the television. My goal: wicked hot sex.

* * * * *

I knew about Dad's porn, figured Mom had to – at night he'd disappear into his office, purportedly to check e-mails and work schedules, emerging thirty minutes later winded and flushed – and assumed Mom was happy to let Dad get his relatively innocent jollies. They rarely displayed physical affection for each other any more and I couldn't recall the last time they'd done it. From Mom's point of view it made sense. Dad, the co-owner of a small trucking company, letting his sedentary lifestyle and bad diet get to him, had grown, was growing ever wider.

From Dad's, not so much. Mom was perfect. Knowing that male lawyers, still a substantial majority in the insurance defense bar that dominated her clientele, preferred a court reporter who showed up on time, provided timely accurate transcripts, dressed professionally, did not mind the occasional rush job or working late, and was easy on the eyes, Mom worked hard on being easy on the eyes. A fixture at the gym, she was thin and, except for "C" breasts (she'd had work done) that looked even bigger on her slender toned frame, curve-free. If you approached her from the rear, her five foot three inch body dressed in a tight but appropriate suit, blonde highlighted hair in a pony-tail, moving gracefully on omnipresent heels rolling her equipment behind her, you'd swear she was in her twenties. It was only when you caught up with her and studied her narrow face and saw the wrinkles around her violet eyes, at the corners of her thin lips, on her hands, that you knew she was approaching forty.

Still there was something of the ice princess to her. She was meticulous, hair, make-up, clothes always just right, speech and diction impeccable, polite, formal, funny but never flirty, posture erect, manners irreproachable. The message: you could look, but keep your distance.

In re-reading this I see I've drawn a too negative a picture of my parents' marriage. We lived a good life, wanted for nothing. My parents liked each other, talked every day, never let a fight get out of control, and no one could make my mother laugh, a comical gut-busting laugh that shook her tiny frame, like my father. They were no longer lovers, but they were best friends.

* * * * *

I've digressed, let me get back to my story. While downloading massage porn into my Dad's computer I noticed someone had opened a link to the porn that morning. Only Mom had been home. Mom watched porn? I knew Mom's sex drive was intact; I'd discovered a small pink vibrator in the back of her lingerie drawer, but still, my mother, the Queen of Appropriate, watched porn? I checked; it had been open for 22 minutes. Had Mom masturbated? My Mom, the ice queen, masturbated to porn?

I opened the drawer, took a picture of the vibrator. When next she used it I'd know.

* * * * *

With massage porn playing on the television I finished Sharon's back and said, "Roll over."

Sharon did, and keeping an eye on the television, where the brunette masseuse dripped oil onto her customer's cock, stroked its impressive length with delicate strong hands.

I worked Sharon's breasts, changing motion and pressure, trapping her nipples between my fingers. Sharon, pussy lips swollen and wet, moaned.

On the televison the masseuse pulled her shirt over her head, covered her large tear-drop breasts with oil, climbed onto the massage table, leaned forward, captured her customer's cock between those tits.

Cork-screwing two fingers into Sharon's vagina I said, "You're soaking wet babe."

"You have talented hands."

A drop of sweat formed on Sharon's forehead, flowed down the side of her face.

I dragged my fingertips on the roof of her vagina and Sharon, locking her fingers on the edge of the table, moaned.

The movement of her hips letting me know what she wanted, I swirled my thumb on her clitoris, leaned down, kissed her, slid my tongue behind her lips, around the inside of her mouth, covered an oily breast with a hand, rolled her nipple between my fingers, moved my mouth to her ear, nibbled sucked an ear lobe, said, "I love your body, love to touch it."

The juice flowing from her sex rippled past my fingers. Curling a finger I ran it through the folds of her labia, did it again, again, bringing her closer, closer.

Her throbbing clit shed its hood, stood straight and tall.

"How does that feel babe, is your cunt on fire?"

She moaned squeaked, "Yes, fuck yes."

I surfed my pinkie on a stream of her juice to her anus, said, "You love this. You're a naughty girl who loves having her asshole played with."

"Unnhhh."

Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her tongue flicked across her lips.

"You're a hot cunt."

"Uunnnhhhhh."

I pushed her to the edge of a powerful orgasm, eased off, walked her back, did it again, then again and again until her unfulfilled desire became an ecstatic torture and she begged, "Please, please, I can't stand any more, don't tease, I need it, I need it, I need it."

Wiggling the tip of my finger on her anus I said, "Please is not the magic word tonight. Instead, repeat after me, 'I'm a dirty girl who loves having her asshole stroked.'"

Groaning in need and despair, lips quivering, she said, "Please, yes please, my asshole."

"Close."

"Okay, I'm a dirty girl who loves having her asshole stroked."

"Again."

"Oh yessssss, I'm a dirty girl who loves having her asshole stroked."`

I sank the first digit of my pinkie into her anus; I played with her clit. My beautiful red-headed girlfriend groaning her delight had become a musical instrument and I the virtuoso. Jobbering, "Don't stop, please, please don't stop, please, oh..., oh..., of..., of..., ohgod, ohgod, ohmigod, aaaaahhh, nnnngggh, aaaaannnnhhh," she rolled her distended nipples between her fingers, bucked her hips, and, as we completed the coda screamed, "Oh, fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes, I'm coming," and detonated. I continued working her and another, then another, orgasm ripped through her until spent, gasping for air, flopping her hand atop mine she whispered, "Please stop, please stop," and, one leg quivering, slumped into the table.

I leaned down, kissed her, but at a groan of pleasure from the television Sharon turned her head to see the on-screen masseuse swallow her customer's cock.

Sharon reached for my dick. The actress was good; Sharon was better, much better.

* * * * *

After Sharon left I folded up the massage table, returned it to the closet, went to my parent's bedroom, labeled the videos we'd watched "Massage Room" and scattered them through Dad's collection – clumped together they might draw attention. I showered, washed the smell of sex off me, and when Mom got home helped unload her gear, asked how her day went.

"Long and dull, the deposition was about accounting. They want to start early tomorrow. Before I hit the sack I'm going to have a cup of tea, watch a little television. Wanna join me?"

We made tea, I told her about school, nothing new there, that I'd invited Sharon over – Mom liked Sharon – for a massage, which is when we entered the home theater. It smelled of the afternoon's sex. Having earlier grown acclimated to it I'd not thought to open a window. Now I looked at Mom who, nostrils flaring, turned to me with a half smile and said, "Y'know dear, I like Sharon, much better then what's her name," my mother's pet name for a previous girlfriend, "but if you become intimate remember, use protection. I'm not ready to be a grandmother."

* * * * *

The next morning I loaded Mom's equipment while she, looking smashingly good, grabbed a cup of coffee, a protein bar, and kissed me good-bye. After she drove off I went to her bedroom to check the computer. Last night she'd opened and watched one of the videos I'd labeled "Massage Room," done so long enough to masturbate. I opened her lingerie draw, called up the picture on my phone. The vibrator had been moved. I picked it up, sniffed it, detected an odor, returned it to the same position, took another photograph.

Had Sharon and I inspired my mother to masturbate? Had we inspired her choice of porn?

* * * * *

It was said Mr. Hunakee had not varied the routine during his 37 years of teaching. I can't vouch for that, although it had been immutable during my four years of high school. He'd ride his bicycle the three blocks home, eat lunch with his wife, in good weather on the front porch, and ride back. This meant his chemistry lab was empty and so, after popping the rear door lock with my driver's license, it was where Sharon and I grabbed a quickie while our classmates chowed down.

After we were done I told her I'd discovered that Mom not only watched porn but, last night, after determining Sharon and I had sex, Mom had masturbated to massage porn.

Nonplused Sharon said, "You act surprised. You said she and your Dad don't do it anymore. Your Mom's a beautiful woman in her sexual prime. Of course she masturbates, of course she has toys. You know my Mom does."

Pushing the image of Sharon's hot mom pressing a vibrator to her sex from my mind I said, "I guess I don't think of Mom as having a sexual side. I know she's pretty, but that's for work. She's stand-offish, never flirts, is always appropriate and professional. Who'd guess she dug porn?"

With an exasperated roll of her eyes Sharon said, "Men! As hard as your Mom works to look as good as she does, with those implants, the way she dresses – classy, but never lets you forget she's built like a brick shithouse – you think that's an accident, you thinks that's for work? Your Mom likes eyes on her. Yeah, there's a sexual side to her, you just need to notice."

* * * * *

Dad got home that night. We celebrated over pizza. Over the next few days he spent a lot time in his office catching up on company business and downloading porn.

* * * * *

With Dad going back out on the road Mom prepared his favorite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and orange juice. I joined them in the kitchen.

"Smell's great Mom. Can I top off your coffee Dad?"

"Thanks champ."

"Where ya' headin'?"

"Seattle. It'll be a week. Make sure to take good care of your mother."

"I doubt she needs me..."

"Don't be silly son, a lady always wants someone looking out for her. Now why don't you boys sit down, it's almost ready."

I turned my attention to Mom. She looked good. After my talk with Sharon not only was I seeing Mom's sexual edge, I could see little else. Hair in a bun, make-up perfect, dressed in a pencil skirt, leather heels, and a white loose-fitting white blouse that failed to hide her ample bosom, Mom was professional. She was also spectacular.

I said, "Mom, you look great. How do you manage to cook pancakes and bacon without getting a spot on yourself? Big deposition today?"

With an appreciative smile she said, "Thank you honey. The deposition should go all day. What are your plans?"

"Sharon and I will hang here. She owes me a massage."

Knowing Sharon and I were unlikely to stop at a massage Mom was, as always, imperturbable.

"That's wonderful son. Remember what we talked about."

* * * * *

Providing fair warning Mom called on the way home asking what we wanted for dinner; we chose Thai. Once home I carried in her gear, Sharon helped unload the food, and when Mom entered the house she sniffed, noting the lingering smell of sex. I'd left the windows shut, this time on purpose.

* * * * *

We ate, sat on the couch, shared our days. Mom said the deposition would run the rest of the week.

Sharon asked, "Do your fingers get tired?"

Mom said, "Sometimes."

Scooting closer, Sharon laid Mom's hand, palm up, on her thigh, dragged her thumb along the base of Mom's fingers, said, "How does this feel?"

"Mmmm..., nice, real nice."

Sharon said, "Sam, take her other hand," and for the next ten minutes we assiduously worked, Mom murmuring happy approval. When we finished Mom made two fists, stretched her fingers, and, as if not believing how good her hands felt, said, "That was wonderful, thank you."

"See, it pays to have your son date the daughter of a masseuse."

Mom, looking at her hands, said, "Sure does."

* * * * *

That night, leaning on the headboard of her bed, caressing her breasts, Mom watched one of the videos I'd downloaded. Mom pressed her vibrator to a nipple, moved it down her body to her clit. On screen a massage, innocent at initiation, had turned erotic. The masseuse ran talented hands between his client's legs, across her pert breasts.

* * * * *

The deposition took three days. Each evening Sharon and I massaged Mom's hands and arms, then her neck and shoulders, on the final day calves and feet. In the morning I'd check her computer. Her fantasy life tracking her real life Mom was watching massage porn. On the final day Sharon said, "Y'know Ms. P, Mom's teaching a seminar this weekend and her volunteer subject just canceled. Could you substitute? It'd be a couple of hours of free massage and a chance for you and Mom to get to know each other."

"I've never done that before."

"No reason for concern, you're the ideal subject."

"Why's that?"

"You have the perfect body for it. You're in great shape, slender with well-defined muscles. It makes it so much easier to demonstrate technique."

Mom looked at me and I said, "Who can argue with a two hour massage? Plus Sharon's right, it's a great way to get our moms together."

Tone positive Mom said, "What should I wear?"

Sharon said, "Something casual, Mom will provide your clothes."

"What time?"

"Noon to two, but try to be fifteen minutes early so you can get ready."

Taking a second to run her schedule though her head Mom said, "I'd love to."

* * * * *

Her studio not being large enough to accommodate the twelve people who'd signed up for her class, Alex borrowed a friend's yoga studio. Sharon and I were setting up the massage tables when Mom, hair, make-up, and clothes – jeans and tee-shirt – impeccable, pulled up in of her BMW.

"Alex, my Mom's here."

Alex said, "Good, there's more than enough time to change," opened the building's door, welcomed Mom with a kiss, said, "Ms. Palmer it's so nice to finally meet you."

"My pleasure Ms. Mann."

"Please, it's Alexandra, but call me Alex, everyone does."

Mom said, "Thank you. It's Jodi."

* * * * *

"My name is Alex Mann. This is Jodi Palmer, she's my demonstration subject although I'll move through the room to work with each of you individually. Jodi please lay on your stomach."

Multiple sets of eyes on her toned body, her full breasts on display in a white cotton sleeveless tee-shirt, Mom, moving with her usual grace, slid onto the massage table.

Alex went on. "I also want to introduce you to Sharon and Sam. They'll assist me today. Sharon is my daughter; Sam is Sharon's beau and Jodi's son. Now let's get started."

For the next two hours and ten minutes – Alex lets her classes run long, people love thinking they're getting something for nothing – Mom was the center of attention with hands, Alex's, Sharon's, and mine, working her body. And while the massage was not overtly sexual, it didn't need to be. The pornography Mom had been watching had already coupled massage and sex in Mom's mind.

Finally Alex said, "That's it for today. Thank you for coming. If you have any questions or suggestions text or e-mail me, my numbers are on the web-site."

The class gathered their things, Mom stood, stretched, took this final opportunity to show off her killer form, and Alex said, "Jodi, after a class I like to decompress over a cup of tea. Do you have a few minutes? The kids will break down the tables."

Feeling an unusual intimacy for this new friend– a two hour massage does that – deciding the burn between her legs could wait, Mom said, "That sounds wonderful," sat in one of the director's chairs in the back of the room and marinated in the lingering effect of the massage as Alex set a tea pot and two cups on the wicker table between them, said, "Sam tells me your husband's a trucker, he's on the road a lot."

Leaning forward for her cup of tea, enjoying the sensation of her erect nipples dragging on the soft cotton fabric of her shirt, Mom said, "Not as much as he used to, but a lot recently. He and a friend own the company, but it's small, ten trucks, so when it gets busy he has to pitch in and business has been good lately. He's on the road right now. What's your situation? Sharon never mentions her Dad."

"We divorced when she was young; Sharon barely knew him. He visited a few times those first couple of years, which was more often than he paid child support, then disappeared. Last year there was a question about her family medical history and I hired a private detective. She learned he'd passed away, opiods, five years ago. It was sad; he died alone."

The conversation was interrupted when, Sharon and I returning to the room, I said, "This is the last table Ms. M, do you need anything else?"

"No Sam, I'll close up."

Sharon, mischievous glint in her eyes, said, "Mom I know you want us to unload the tables at the house, but do we need to do that now? There are couple of things we'd like to do first."

"That's fine, no rush."

"Thanks Mom."

Watching us drive off Alex said, "Young people in heat, those two can't get enough of each other."

Mom, surprised by Alex's frankness, said, "Yeah, I'm not sure how I feel about it. Today's kids seem so much more relaxed about sex than we were."

"Yeah, and not that you asked, but my daughter has an implant – I took her myself – and gets regular check-ups; she's disease free, says so is your son. I'm partially to blame. I introduced them to massage. Sitting together at the house, in front of the television or whatever, they start rubbing each other's necks and you watch them heat up. Next thing I know there's this party they have to go to. Yeah, a two person party. They come home a couple of hours later happy and smelling of sex. But at least they have each other, right now all I have is my toys."

Mom, unsure of how to respond to this unexpurgated confession, offered an unspecific, "Really?" which Alex took as permission to go on.

"Yes, I have few, and just discovered the Osé, my new best friend."

Curious, Mom said, "What's an Osé?"

"Oh honey, with your husband on the road you need an Osé. It's the cutting edge in female self-pleasure, delivers a hands-free blended orgasm, mimics a real life partner who knows what he's doing, and god knows there are too few of them. It provides all the sensations of a human mouth, tongue, and fingers, hits all the right spots, flexes and adapts to your body, and there's no buzzing desensitizing vibrations. The best thing? It leaves your hands free and god, do we girls know there's better uses for our hands."

Captured by Alex's uninhibited enthusiasm Mom leaned forward and said, "What's a blended orgasm?"

"It's what happens with a guy who knows what he's doing. A combined clitoral and g-spot orgasm, which means you're hitting both places just the right way, which means you have an experienced talented to-die-for partner or an Osé. You slip the Osé's g-spot massager inside; it uses a come-hither motion. The clitoral massager covers your clit on the outside. It feels like a huge fricking mouth pulsing on your entire fricking clitoris. I didn't know how big my clit was until I got my Osé. And it's made of silicone, you can bring it, use it anywhere."

Mom said, "So this thing is real? You've used one?"

Alex said, "Sure have, planning to do so again when I get home. I'll text you the web-site and testimonials from women who've used them. The videos are classy, beautiful women in elegant lingerie who show how to use it, tell you how great it is. I love mine, my girlfriends love theirs, you will too, but," checking the clock on the wall, said, "I see it's time to clean up. My friend is leading a yoga class this evening."

Mom said, "Y'know I've never done yoga."

Alex said, "With your build and flexibility you'd be a natural. If your interested I'll bring you to a class, introduce you to Becky. There are beginner classes at 6:30 all week."

Mom said, "I'd like that, and let me give you a hand cleaning up. My way of thanking you for the wonderful massage."

* * * * *

Mom got home, stripped, refreshed her computer, smiled when she saw she'd forgotten to close the massage porn she'd been watching before heading for the workshop. What if her husband had come home, found she'd dipped into his supposedly secret stash? Would he be embarrassed, angry, turned on? If the latter maybe he'd deliver the kind of power fuck he hadn't in years.

She logged onto, studied the Osé site, turned to the testimonials where two women, like Mom in their late thirties, large breasts on slender toned bodies, fair-skinned, hair highlighted blonde and in a pony tail, demonstrated the use of an Osé. And while, as Alex promised, the videos were classy, they were also pornographic. Mom's fingers found their way to the space between her legs.

Two days later an unmarked UPS delivery was waiting at the front door. I googled the return address; Mom was the proud owner of an Osé. The next day I opened the computer, determined that after some exploring Mom had found racier videos of women using their Osés, masturbating together, masturbating each other. I opened the lingerie drawer, picked up the Osé, sniffed – it smelled of sex – replaced it, took a picture.

* * * * *

"You kids done?"

I opened my eyes. Alex, in her yoga outfit, was standing in Sharon's bedroom door holding a pitcher of water and three plastic cups. Sharon, voice sleepy and speech slurred, glanced at the clock and said, "Hey Mom, looks like we lost track of time."

She said, "You did, but I'm also home early. I called, but it appears you were preoccupied. Jodi and I had to cut our usual cup of tea after yoga short, she has a rush job on a transcript," then, turning her attention on me, said, "Still young man, if you're going to have sex with my daughter you should be done and cleaned up before I get home. You don't want to throw it in my face."

Sharon and I slid up the bed, leaned against the headboard, I said, "Sorry ma'am, I guess I'm a bad boy," and Sharon, reaching for one of the glasses of water, the sheet falling from her naked torso, her breasts swaying with the movement, concurred, saying, "He's very bad Mama."

Alex sat at our feet and said, "Sam, your Mom told me she loves her Osé, thanked me for introducing her to it. Tell me, how's she been using it?"

"The first day she watched the videos you suggested. Then she went searching, found videos of women using them together, branched out to other sex toys, watched some exhibitionist stuff. You were right about the lingerie, from the state of her drawer it's clear she wears it while she masturbates."

Turning to her daughter Alex said, "What have you noticed?"

"She's still Miss Manners, but her sexual side is definitely coming out. At the gym this week she wore leggings, she's never done that before, and had a wandering, if subtle, eye, checked out the guys. When doing squats she checked out the eyes checking her out, dug the attention. On the way home she mentioned a couple of random hot guys – she's never done that before – gently chided me when I said I did the same, said I'd make Sam jealous.

Pulling her yoga shirt over her head, tossing it onto a chair, Alex said, "Yeah, at the coffee shop she preened for, kept an eye on this cute Barista, then, feeling guilty, talked about her husband, trying to balance her burgeoning libido with fidelity. I think it's time she was my guest at another massage class."

* * * * *

Unusual for my perennially prompt mother she pulled up a couple of minutes before class began; she'd dawdled, diddling herself while watching a favorite piece of massage porn. For her first stint as a model she'd come in a tee-shirt and jeans, but this time she'd gone shopping and her stylish sleeveless white cotton tank top and pants, snug in the right places, emphasized the gentle swell of her rump, her toned body, her bra-less breasts.

The center of attention, apologizing for being late, laying her bag to the side, Mom slid onto Alex's massage table.

For the next two plus hours hands were on her: Alex's primarily, but Sharon or I when Alex would wander the class answering questions, offering instruction and encouragement. And while neck rubs and foot and hand massages had become de rigeur at home, I went further, working my hands up the sides of her body, along the swell of her breasts, across the top of her chest. Alex and Sharon, more brazen, lavished attention on Mom's inner thighs and butt cheeks.

As we worked Mom's breathing slowed, her body warmed, an occasional low moan escaped her mouth.

At class's end, skin flushed, eyes dilated, Mom sat up, wet her lips, exhaled slowly smoothly. If you studied her breasts, and I did, you saw the outline of blood-engorged nipples.

As Mom savored the sensations pulsing through her Alex thanked everyone, asked Sharon and I to break down and load the tables, invited Mom to join her for a glass of tea.

* * * * *

As Sharon and I drove off Alex locked the door, turned to Mom, said, "God I'm turned on. Little gets me going like giving or receiving a massage."

Mom, sitting in her director's chair, said, "You may be right, but I can't believe I'm doing this. I've never done anything like it."

Alex sat in the chair opposite Mom and said, "Why not? We mature ladies need to take care of our own needs, supply our own fantasies and desires."

"Yeah, but you're single, I'm not. Is it cheating? It feels like cheating."

"No, it's masturbating, what's wrong with masturbating, and what do you suggest? You love your husband, don't want the scandal and mess of an affair, divorce doesn't make sense, so what's the alternative? Abdicate control of your sex life, deny your needs and desires? Of course not. Instead find a safe place and push the edge of the envelope."

Mom said, "Okay, but you first."

Saying, "Certainly,"Alex casually pulled her tee-shirt over her head, her shorts down her legs, undid her bra, set it on a table beside her. Then, letting her legs drift apart, she watched Mom's eyes drop from her face to her breasts, natural "B's," spotted with freckles, splayed to the side, before focusing on the flaming red bush between Alex's legs.

Alex said, "I'm not as fit or toned as you, but still, whatta ya think?"

Mom paused, swallowed, said, "Don't sell yourself short, you're in great shape," and adding, "I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," pulled her white tee over her head, worked her light cotton pants past her hips and down her legs. As the room's cold air hit her wet pubes Mom shuddered, looked up, saw Alex, her eyes locked on Mom's sex.

Alex said, "I've never gone bald down there. Is it comfortable? Do you shave, do you wax?"

Mom, who'd become fixated on the cue ball cunts omnipresent in her pornography, said, "I got a wax a week ago, my first time. Hurt at first, felt a combination of uncomfortable and strange the next few days. Now it feels sexy, my own sexy secret. You ever consider it?"'

"I considered it a few times, but hair as red as mine is rare, it seemed a shame to waste it."

Alex opened her legs, ran a hand down her body, stopped an inch from her sex, and Mom, any lingering embarrassment crumpling before her raging libido, accepted the invitation and took a studied look, comparing Alex's bushy cunt to the video ones that were her daily companions, swallowed, and with complete conviction said, "You're right, such beauty should be preserved."

Pulling the tie from her hair Alex shook her head, stood, and, her graceful form on full display walked across the room, handed Mom her bag, and returning to her chair said, "Good, I think it's time we got started. Don't worry, it'll be fun."

Mom said, "Okay, but you first," and Alex pulled a finger vibrator from her bag, turned it on, pressed it between her breasts, ran it down her body, let out a long languid exhalation.

Mom, thinking this was so much better than porn, retrieved the vibrator from her bag, leaned back in her chair, dragged it on the inside of her thighs, around her sex, across her trim stomach to the sensitive underside of her breasts.

Each woman trailed the fingertips of their free hand on their torso, cupped a breast, squeezed, dragged a thumb across a nipple, felt the pressure grow.

Alex, starring at Mom, said, "You're so sexy."

Too aroused to be embarrassed Mom said, "Thank you," and pressed the vibrator to her plump vaginal lips.

Alex, circling her throbbing nipples with her vibrator, replied, "You're welcome," and spread her labia, exposed her clit – a little British soldier, tall, erect, and red – pushed a finger inside her sex. She reached into her bag, retrieved her Osé.

Mom, voice slurred with lust and desire, said, "Oh yes," and retrieved hers.

Each watched the other press the toy's curved tail to the mouth of her sex, rock it back and forth; the Osé, coated with juice, flexed, adapted, slid inside their body. Next they moved the outside bulb over their clits, leaned back in their chairs, closed their eyes, and, knowing the Osé would remain in place, ran their hands on their torsos, their fingers as light as feathers.

The Osés worked their magic. Micro-robotics, pulsing air flow, thumping come-hither motion. Juice flowed; g-spots throbbed; enflamed clits burned bright.

Hands, exploring chests thighs tits, became less gentle, grew more forceful.

The room filled with soft moans and heavy breathing, smelled of arousal and need.

Alex said, "Doing this together is so fricking hot."

Opening her eyes, seeing her friend's undulating body, the good girl in her reveling in the guilty pleasure, Mom wheezed out, "Yesss..."

Having hooked her target Alex reeled her in. "You've got perfect breasts."

Mom thumbed her nipples, said, "The best money can buy."

Panting, wetting her lips, Alex said, "Fricking priceless."

Mom sputtered, "Thank... uunnnhhh... you... uunnnnhhhh."

The women rocked their hips, wished their Osés were attached to a man, a man who knew how to fuck you silly, who'd make you come and come until you were sure you'd die.

Drunk on the site of her beautiful red-headed friend's undulating body, Mom jerked her hips in short hard motions, punctuating each with a guttural, "Unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh."

It was burrowing through her, growing, unstoppable.

Seeing Mom was about to come Alex, voice intense and needy, added fuel to the fire. "This is so fricking hot, you're so sexy, so beautiful. Come for me girl, come for me, come you sexy bitch."

No pornography could equal Alex's sexy stare, forbidden words, writhing body. Mom's clit and g-spot merged, became a single pulsing pulsating raging thing. Mom squeezed her breasts, twisted her nipples, brayed, "Oh god yes, I'm so glad, so glad, I let you, let you, let you talk me, let you talk me, let you, into this. Oh yes, oh yes, yes yes yes yes, oh yes, oh Alex, oh yes Alex, yes, yes, yes, Alex Alex Alex I'm ffrriiiggiiinggg comminnnngggggggg...," the spasming walls of her cunt caressing clutching the Osé as if it was a cock, a perfect cock.

The sight of Mom's jerking body, the sound of her animal groans, sent Alex over the edge and moaning, "Me fricking too..." her convulsing body rattled and shook her chair until, skin flushed and covered in perspiration, spent and exhausted, legs spread wide, arms hanging to the floor, she slumped back in her chair.

And with Mom starring right at her Alex said, "Watch this beautiful," and employing the core developed by years of yoga, flexed her stomach muscles and pushed the Osé from her body. Mom, watching in fascination, said, "I can't believe you just did that; I can't believe I just did this."

Alex laughed, said, "Y'know my point of view."

"Yes, we older ladies need to look out for own needs, regardless."

"Exactly, so instead of worrying if you went too far, why not think of what else you might do."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Oh honey, there are few limits to my imagination, but in good time, in good time."

* * * * *

On returning home from our date Sharon and I heard, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, yes baby, oh yes, yes, yes, YES, YES, YES, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M CCOOOMMMIIINNNGGGGG, E-YANNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

After waiting a long enough to ensure Alex was not entertaining, Sharon and I stuck our heads in her bedroom. Naked, glistening with sweat, her muscles slack, she leaned on the headboard taking long cleansing breaths. On the bed beside her was her phone, between her legs – her bright red pubic hair was plastered to her skin – was her Osé, and on the screen of her televison were three beautiful young women in heels and skin tight dresses home from a night of clubbing, complaining about the fruitless search for Mr. Right, deciding it was time for Ms. Right, peeling off each other's clothes.

Sharon said, "Hey Mom, you look like you could use a glass of water."

Alex smiled and said, "Sure could."

We returned with two, both of which Alex drained before saying, "I was just on the phone with your Mom. We watched lesbian porn, masturbated together. Second time this week. It's time she met Colette."

* * * * *

The small Victorian house was located in a residential neighborhood, its owner having secured a zoning waiver allowing her to operate a shop in the front two rooms of her home. When Alex opened the door a bell rang, an actual bell, not an electronic one, and a voice came from the back of the shop. "I'll be right with you."

Alex said, "No reason to rush Colette, it's me, Alex, and the friend I mentioned."

Mom looked around. The vintage lingerie was beautiful. The small feminine shop smelled of fresh lilac

There were the rustling sound of a body brushing against clothing and my mother found herself looking at the face of a stout woman who..., it was hard to tell. The youthful sparkle in her eyes and healthy skin were contrasted by short red-brown shoulder-length hair dabbled with gray and the knowing wisdom of a countenance suggesting a woman of experience.

Alex stepped forward, embraced the woman, turned to Mom, said, "Jodi, this is my friend Colette, she owns this wonderful shop. Colette this is Jodi, the woman I spoke of."

Leaning in to kiss Mom's cheek Colette said, "It's good to meet you. You're every bit the beauty Alex described. Please look around while I pour everyone a glass of wine."

As Colette headed for the back Mom's eyes were drawn to two corsets, one made of brown leather, studded with straps and metal clasps, the other of elegant red satin. Both were designed to be worn on the outside.

Returning with the wine Colette said, "Have you seen anything you like?"

Alex nodded her head towards the corsets and said, "Jodi seems fascinated by these."

Colette said, "They're among my favorites. They bring out a lady's bawdy side. Would you like to try them on?"

Mom said, "If it wouldn't be any trouble."

"None at all, although the leather one's a bit complicated. Have you worn anything like it before?"

Conscious of her relatively innocent past my mother flushed a bit red and said, "No."

"I see I've embarrassed you, I apologize. I was asking to see whether you could use a hand."

Mom, confused by the corset's array of buckles and snaps, said, "It's fine and yes, I'd love your help."

Removing the corset from the rack Colette said, "Alex, we'll be a few minutes. Would you mind the shop?"

* * * * *

Mom expected a department store dressing room – small, barren, swinging door, relatively private – but followed Colette into what was another room of the house. Although exquisitely decorated there was no privacy, she'd be undressing in front of a woman she barely knew. Six months ago she wouldn't have done it, and while she briefly hesitated, spurred on by the recent nurturing of her exhibitionist side, knowing Alex trusted Colette, and Colette's nonchalance Mom kicked off her flats, took off her shirt, bra, and jeans, and when Colette, scanning her up and down, said, "You have the perfect build for this," enjoying the attention Mom said, "What do you mean?"

Colette said, "Big boobs, tiny waist, and so strong, your body's made for this corset. The contrast with your hair will also bring out its color. The first thing to do is adjust the cups," and moving behind Mom wrapped a measuring tape around her chest, her warm fingers brushing Mom's breasts. Mom, thinking of the lesbian porn she'd been watching recently, felt stabs of pleasure as Colette, touch gentle and sensitive, made additional measurements. Goose bumps erupting on her skin Mom ran outstretched fingers down the front of her thighs.

Colette, as if oblivious to the effect she was having, said, "We're ready," and slid the leather corset onto Mom, zipped up the back, took hold of the waist, adjusted the fit, then moved in front of Mom and with knowing hands and practiced fingers fine-tuned the straps, molding the corset and its soft sensual leather to mother's body. When done she ran her hands down Mom's torso, turned her towards the full length mirror, said, "What do you think?"

Tits barely contained, waist tinier than ever, Mom saw sex, pure sex, the triumph of the libido she'd always fought to contain. She was concupiscent desire incarnate.

"Oh my god, I can't believe it's me."

Circling Mom, inspecting, evaluating, Colette said, "It's you. Do you mind if I ask Alex in?"

Eager to show off for her friend Mom, looking over her shoulder at her ass, said, "No, not at all."

When Colette left Mom pressed the flat of her hand to her sex, drove her hips into it – her pussy spasmed, her toes curled — yanked the hand away when the door reopened and Alex said, "Wow, you were right. Jodi, you are some hot. We definitely need stilettos."

Colette said, "Great idea, what are you, size 7?" Mom nodded yes and Colette knelt, selected 3 ½ inch black leather heels from a shoe rack, slipped them onto Mom's feet, ran her hands down Mom's legs, said, "I love the strength of these wonderful legs," stood, undid Mom's ponytail, dragged her fingers through Mom's hair, leaving it wild and unkempt, complementing the unalloyed sexuality of her corseted body.

Colette moved away and Mom lifted her leg, looked at the shoe, turned to the mirror, saw sex, pure sex.

Alex stepped forward and hand resting on the small of Mom's back said, "You're stunning."

Colette said, "That she is. Jodi, although I can't imagine anything looking better, would you like to try the red satin corset?"

Mom, nodding her head, her voice hoarse with arousal, said, "Yes."

Alex and Colette returned to the shop for the red corset and Mom staring at her image in the mirror, imagined starring in a video where beautiful women peeled beautiful lingerie off each other. She pressed the heel of her hand to her sex, jerking it away when the door opened. Colette, displaying no sign she'd seen Mom touch herself, said, "Ready for satin?"

Mom said, "Yes," and Colette, hands and fingers warm, sweet, gentle, undid the leather corset's belts, clasps, and buckles, lowered its zipper, Mom enjoying Colette's delicate touch, which seemed to linger longer, be sweeter and more attentive than when she put the corset on.

When done Colette lay the leather corset over the back of a chair and as Mom, naked but for panties and heels, held out her arms, Colette slid the red corset onto her, tightened the laces in the back, fastened the busks in front, tied up the back. Mom gasped as cool satin sculpted itself to her skin and swollen pussy lips, did so again as Colette, fingers between the corset and Mom's shoulder blades, adjusted it, then playfully slapped Mom's firm bottom. As a stream of delicious previously unknown thrills flowed through Mom's body Colette said, "I think that's right, take a look."

Nostrils flaring, heart quickening, Mom turned to the mirror. In the leather corset she'd been a warrior who'd celebrate victory in battle by taking on, wearing out, lover after lover. In satin she was a Bourbon courtesan, a kept woman whose ascent resulted from charm, skill as a hostess, guile, and that there was no better fuck in the realm.

Colette said, "My god you're, its perfect. How do you feel?"

Breasts swollen and throbbing, the outline of her nipples discernible in the dense fabric, Mom looked in the mirror and said, "I love it, I love the way it feels on my skin."

Running a finger down Mom's back Colette said, "These corsets provide very different looks, few women can wear both. You make both look good. Do you prefer one to the other?"

As the sensation of Colette's finger streamed through her like a languid sensual wave Mom finally understood. Colette was coming on to her.

"No. I love them both, want them both."

Colette moved Mom's blonde hair aside and whispered into her ear, "Both? You're right, two can be so much more fun than one. Perhaps I can make you a deal."

Mom thought of Alex. She knew about Mom's recent fixation on lesbian porn. She'd urged Mom to explore her sexuality, said she had ideas for the journey. Alex had set this up. And while on another day Mom might have felt manipulated, right now, deeply aroused, Mom knew it meant two things: it would be safe, it would be fun.

Was she ready? She wasn't sure, but she knew she'd go with the flow, do nothing to stop it, see what happened.

Colette, seeing the lust and need burning in Mom's eyes, kissed Mom's neck and shoulder, moved a hand down Mom's flanks, across her flat stomach.

* * * * *

For Colette, the shop was about love. She loved the network that supplied her with this exquisite vintage lingerie, loved touching it, sorting it, arranging it, loved pricing and selling it. She had no interest in the mass market, that was for places with catalogs, stores in malls, emaciated twenty-something models. No, she wanted to sell lingerie to older, more mature, ladies.

She knew many of these women would become her lovers. What could be more arousing than trying on sexy clothes in the intimate atmosphere of her shop? But still the number surprised her. So many husbands had grown indifferent and uninteresting and older women, inspired by the sexual fluidity of the generation behind them, were increasingly ready to experiment.

Soon women, having learned of Colette from a friend or relative, would appear, cash in hand, looking forward to an afternoon of modeling sexy clothes culminating in an evening in Colette's firm bed, located in the rear half of the building where she lived.

Jodi was different; this was a true seduction. Alex had told her Jodi was old school, straight, loyal to her husband, but Colette could see that Mom, desperately needing a safe outlet for a sexual energy that was intensifying as she approached forty, was breaking free of conventional restraints. As her hands glided on Mom's body, caressed the lovely toned flesh, Colette knew this customer was ready to cross the line.

* * * * *

Catching Mom's eyes in the mirror, Colette kissed the back of Mom's neck, lips grazing Mom's skin, a long slow kiss, then said, "Alex told me you were beautiful, but still, she didn't do you justice. Have you ever been with a woman?"

"No."

Colette covered Mom's breast with a hand, kissed Mom's shoulder. Mom dropped her head to the side, Colette kissed up her neck.

It had been a long time since Mom had been seduced; Mom liked being seduced.

Mom closed her eyes, leaned her body into Colette's, smiled, a sweet happy smile that signaled all was okay. Colette untied the knot in the back of the corset with a flick of her wrist, moved down mother's slender back loosening the ties until, reaching Mom's tiny pink panties, she slipped her hands underneath them, cupped Mom's butt-cheeks, squeezed.

Opening her eyes at the unexpected sensation, Mom, looked at Colette's image in the mirror, reached for Colette's hands, moved them to her chest, caressed them as Colette unbuckled busk after busk.

With one busk left Colette stopped, took a deep breath, admired the breathtaking vision standing before her – blonde hair, violet eyes luminous, cheekbones high, body slender toned – spread the corset open. Mom's breasts glowed red, her small nipples were swollen and stiff; Colette lay an open-mouth kiss on Mom's shoulder, nipped the tender skin of her neck, coaxing a delighted giggle from Mom.

Treating the giggle as permission Colette finished loosening the corset's ties, unhooked the final busk, held the corset as Mom slipped out of it.

Except for panties and heels Mom was naked, Colette fully clothed. Mom reached for Colette and said, "Now you," but Colette, cupping Mom's breasts, said, "No, not today, perhaps soon," as her strong fingers danced across the sensitive flesh, avoiding Mom's throbbing erect nipples. Mom whimpered in frustration and Colette dropped to her knees, kissed and nipped Mom's belly, dragged her tongue up Mom's midriff, through the valley of her breasts, past her collarbone to her neck.

Mom thought of Alex's mantra, "We mature ladies need to take care of our own needs, supply our own fantasies and desires."

When Colette reached Mom's mouth she found parted lips quivering waiting.

The women's mouths came together, Mom's delicate quick tongue played with Colette's, aggressive assertive one. Mom found she loved Colette's lips and tongue and breath, loved the slight vanilla taste of her own skin that lingered there.

Bodies pressed together, they kissed. Colette's hands made their way down Mom's body to her tight ass. Mom's hands tangled themselves in Colette's short red-brown hair, tugged caressed stroked.

Colette unexpectedly stepped back and Mom, longing for the broken contact, leaned forward, her tongue waggling in empty air, searching for Colette's missing mouth.

"Take off your panties,"

Mom blinked, slipped her fingers inside the hem of her panties, felt them cling to her wet sex, pushed them down, stepped out of them.

"Touch yourself."

Mom sank a finger into her sex, twisted it, held it up for inspection, was surprised when Colette, took hold of Mom's wrist, stepped forward, held the finger to her nose, inhaled, filling her senses with Mom's most intimate scent, let out a moan of pure lust.

Emboldened, for the first time Mom became the aggressor and, eyes burning with primal need and hunger, stepped forward, pressed her naked body to Colette's clothed one, crushed her lips to Colette, tried to devour her.

Tearing her lips away Colette attacked her lover's neck, snarled, "You're mine," into Mom's ear, marked her neck with little bites, dragged a high keening moan from the depth of Mom's soul, then drew back and, grinding her hand on Mom's sex, eyes starring into the core of Mom's being, said, "Say it."

Mom groaned, said, "I'm yours."

Colette probed Mom's tight pussy with a single finger and urging her to go faster deeper Mom grabbed Colette's wrist, but Colette, maintaining control, said, "Easy, baby girl," kissed her, added a second finger, pumped them in Mom's hungry aching channel, angled her hand so it's heel rolled on Mom's clit, added a third finger to the two thrusting in Mom's sex.

Mom, a marionette on a string, rocked her body on Colette's hand. It was building in her belly, growing bigger and bigger; it was terrifying beautiful overwhelming unstoppable. Colette's twisting fingers plunged deep, so fricking deep.

Mom started jibbering, "Unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh, unnh."

There was a fire in Mom's sex and a fire in her brain and there were sheets of light in her mind and they burned and hell broke loose, the amalgamation of sensations bursting free in one perfect moment that froze time and space and her body exploded in otherworldly divine animal euphoria. Sheer pure sexual pleasure filling her, back arching like a composite bow, she screamed the howl of a banshee and the joy echoed and rebounded within her until finally settling in her sex, in her puffy distended pussy.

Leaning into Colette's body Mom wore a vacant goofy smile, felt like overstretched rubber.

Colette stroked Mom's sweaty tousled hair, said, "You okay?"

"Heck yes."

* * * * *

Hair and make-up mostly perfect, Mom re-entered the shop, saw a woman chatting with Alex. Who was she, how long had she been here, had she heard Mom's orgasmic scream, were the bite marks on her neck still visible? Wanting to get the lay of the land Mom stopped and browsed the silk panties while checking out the visitor. Whoever she was she was elegant refined, her bearing regal, and she appeared oblivious to recent events. As Mom relaxed she noted the woman, who was in her sixties, was also quite attractive.

Mom chided herself. Had a single exotic adventure with Colette turned her into a same-sex predator?

Feeling safe Mom nodded to Alex who said, "Jodi, I'd like to introduce you to Olivia Broome, an old friend and the Mayor of this fair city. Olivia, this is Jodi Palmer, a new friend. It's her first visit to the shop."

Mom stuck out her hand, said, "Mayor Broome," who grasped it in both hers, leaned in, kissed Mom's cheek, said, "Please, it's Olivia. From the smile on your face I'm thinking Colette has taken good care of you."

Wondering what exactly Mayor Broome meant, Mom paused and Colette, as if on cue, walked into the shop carrying two boxes and said, "Jodi here are the items you purchased, I expect you'll love them, but if not call. We can always work out an exchange. I work hard to make sure my customers remain satisfied."

Then, turning her attention to her newest guest, Colette said, "Mayor, it's so good of you to come. I have some things I want to show you in the back. Alex, please lock the door on your way out."

* * * * *

Tossing Mom the keys to her SUV Alex said, "Would you mind driving?"

Mom said, "No," and perplexed by Alex's casual attitude added, "Did you set this up?"

Expecting Alex to either deny it or play dumb, Mom was surprised by her frank, "If you mean put you in a safe situation where you could, if you chose, further explore your sexuality, I'm guilty. A friend introduced me to Colette and her wonderful shop a couple of years ago. I've never stopped thanking her. Do you have any complaints?"

Although she knew she should, the best Mom could manage was, "Well, I mean, you should let me know what you were planning."

Sitting in the passenger seat Alex reached into the back, fumbled in her bag, pulled out her Osé, lowered her seat, and said, "That takes all the fun out of it, but okay honey, this is what I'm planning. Listening to you two got me so hot I'm planning to enjoy myself on the way home," then reached under her dress, removed her panties, worked the Osé inside her sex.

It was not long before Mom, desperate to get home to her own Osé, slid a hand under her bra to massage a breast.

Soon the car was permeated by the smell of sex, the squishy sound of the Osé in Alex's cunt harmonizing with the noise of the road, and Mom, seeing her friend headed for a climax, ripped her hand from her breast, squeezed Alex's, and said, "You red-headed goddess, come for me, come for me."

Emitting a series of short hard grunts Alex came. The cunt juice left a stain that required serious elbow grease to remove.

* * * * *

Dad was on the road. Mom was in bed, the Osé laying by her side, juice dripping from her sex. On screen the MILF jerking on her step-son's cock got a facial. Momentarily satiated, Mom explored, found more stepmother-stepson porn, then teacher-student, boss-employee, parent-babysitter, masturbating one more time before falling asleep.

* * * * *

The three of us were at Sharon's picking through last night's leftovers as I reported on my most recent snooping.

"Mom's started branching out. She likes anal if it's not brutal, exhibitionist/voyeur's a definite turn on. Gay men don't interest her, but you and Colette hit a home run; gay women sure do. Threesomes and foursomes yes, massive uncontrolled orgies no; interracial sex is fine if not the theme. She has no problem with black men and white women unless he's telling her she's a high-society bitch who needs big black cock to loosen her up. Still loves massage porn and digs power imbalances: stepmother-stepson, stepmother-stepdaughter, teacher-student, strapless dildo. Her collection of toys has expanded; it now includes several vibrators, a butt plug, and nipple clamps.

"She's masturbating a lot. It used to be only when Dad was out of town and then last thing in the day, now most days she takes short do-not-disturb-me naps upon returning from work. On weekends if I say I'll gone for several hours she heads straight for the bedroom."

Alex said, "What have you noticed Sharon?"

"While her clothes remain appropriate, they're hotter. She bought a couple leather skirts, wears more enticing work-out clothes. I checked the laundry. Her lingerie is naughtier, panties silk and skimpy, lacy bras offering full support to those wonderful breasts. There's a definite sexual vibe to her. She's experimenting with hair, make-up, bling. She digs it when Sam and I notice, compliment her. When Sam's not around I get more explicit, urge her to go tighter, shorter, give the world a show. It's girl talk, but she loves it."

Smiling, Alex said, "All good, it's time for the penultimate step."

* * * * *

Sharon idly playing with Mom's hair, the three of us sat on the couch watching Game of Thrones. Earlier that day, after a massage, Sharon and I'd made love in this room. I could smell it, which meant Mom could, which meant my mother had to be imagining Sharon and my bodies intertwined, fucking. If Dad hadn't been home working on the computer Mom would have excused herself, selected a favorite video, slipped a favorite toy between her legs.

Dad came thumping down the hall, stuck his head in the door. When I paused the show he said, "I got news, good and bad. Business is great, which means I'll be on the road over the next couple of weeks, including the weekend of the 12th, Mother's Day. Sorry babe."

Sharon immediately chipped in, "Mrs. P, Mom and I have reservations at Solcano's for lunch, why don't you and Sam join us?"

Mom looked at me, I smiled my agreement, and giving my father a look of absolution Mom said, "Sounds perfect."

Dad, thinking his wife had recently been in an uncommonly good mood, happy not to have his head bitten off, headed back down the hall, and Sharon looked to me and said, "Since we're lunching together why don't you and I switch?"

I gave my girlfriend my pained "we're not supposed to talk about that look," but it was too late and Mom said, "Switch? What are you talking about?"

After my brief ineffective protest that it was supposed to be a secret I said, "For Mother's Day Sharon and I are planning to give our mothers massages."

Sharon said, "Yeah, but since we'll be out together why don't I do you and Sam could do my Mom. Introduce a little variety."

Mom shrugged, said, "If it is okay with Alex it's okay with me."

* * * * *

Friday night before Mothers Day's Sharon and I were out, Dad on the road, and Mom settled in her bed, flipped on the computer and called up a video. An attractive large breasted older women, a towel draped over her bubble butt, lay face down on a massage table while a red-headed woman of medium height dipped her fingers into a bowl of massage oil. The masseuse worked her customer, asked her to roll onto her back. Her hands grew bolder, but stopped short of the intimate until the woman on the table, eyes hazy with desire, took hold of the hands, moved one under the towel, the other to her breast.

* * * * *

After our Mother's Day brunch Mom was in her bedroom wrapping a towel around her naked body. A few months ago she'd never, but for a towel, have lay naked before her son's girlfriend or, for that matter, anyone else for a massage. Now how did she feel? The first phrase that popped in her head, "at ease," wasn't right, for she couldn't deny the sexual charge. Was it the thrill of pushing the edge of the envelope? Had the porn warped her sexual yearnings and needs?

She headed for the den, where Sharon and the massage table waited, wondering how many times Sharon and I'd given each other massages there, how many times we'd done so while porn played on the television, how many times led to sex?

Memories of the massage porn she'd watched crowded her mind: a customer laying on her back, a masseuse removing the towel, oiled fingers working labial lips and clit, slipping inside. Then a new image: her son on the table, Sharon crawling onto it, pulling her white tee over her head, straddling him, placing his dick on the entrance to her sex.

Sharon said, "Ms. P, why don't you lay down while I check the oil."

Brought back to reality Mom said, "Of course," slid onto the waist high table, took a deep breath, let herself become absorbed by the scent of the candles scattered through the room, the ambient light seeping though the blinds, the soft music playing from Sharon's phone.

Sharon returned with the heated oil and Mom said, "I can't thank you, and Sam, enough for this."

"Well Ms. P, if I'm any good thank Mom, she taught me everything I know."

"It's good to see you and your Mom so close, so many teenage daughters and mothers barely speak."

"Yeah, Mom and I are best friends; we share everything."

Recalling how at ease Alex had been commenting about her daughter's sex life, Mom wondered, did they share every lascivious detail?

Sharon dipped her fingers into the oil, worked the muscles between Mom's shoulder blades, gradually expanding the circular sweep of her hands until moving over Mom's upper back, down her sides. The touch was light, sweet, relaxing.

Sharon turned to Mom's lower back, worked individual muscles with strong fingers, drove the tightness and tension from them.

Mom let out a long appreciative, "Mmmmmmmmmmmm," and said, "Your mother taught you well."

Sharon said, "You have the perfect body for this," and finishing Mom's lower back turned to her neck with a vigor between the gentle relaxation of the upper back and deep massage of the lower. Sharon, seeing Mom becoming lost in the sensations, tuning out the world, said, It's time for the stones."

Her voice a purr Mom said, "Stones?"

"Yes, I'll place heated stones along your spine. The heat relaxes, gives me access to deeper muscle layers. Mom says they draw out toxins and inhibitions, help us get in touch with our true selves."

Although she didn't believe in magic rocks, Mom thought about how Alex had her dabbling with sex toys and pornography, had convinced her to masturbate together, arranged her encounter with Colette. Alex certainly knew about shedding inhibitions and as Sharon laid the stones – they did feel nice – Mom thought of Alex's mantra: "We mature ladies need to take care of our own needs, supply our own fantasies and desires."

Moving to the side of the table Sharon worked Mom's arms, returned the stones to their wicker basket, said, "Ms P, may I remove your towel?"

Murmuring her assent, Mom felt cool air on her fanny.

Sharon picked up the bowl, dribbled oil down Mom's back. Its silken warmth flowed on her skin, pooled on her spine.

Employing a circular motion Sharon next coated Mom's rump with oil. It spread across her butt cheeks, her thighs, and her sex, merging with the girl juice coating her swollen pussy lips.

Sharon moved to the head of the table, placed the bowl down, said, "Let me show you something else Mama taught me," and pressing the palms of her hands to Mom's shoulders moved them down her body, over Mom's butt.

The motion forced the inner walls of Mom's vagina to flex and curl on each other, drove her pussy lips together.

Ever more aroused Mom wondered: Had Alex laid the stones on her daughter, drawn the inhibitions from her. Was Sharon, like her mother, free?

Sharon moved to the side of the table, worked Mom's buttocks, placed a hand on each cheek, rotated Mom's rump, clockwise counter-clockwise.

The effect on Mom's sex was intense, wonderful.

Sharon leaned forward, putting more force into the massage, and Mom realized that Sharon could see her pussy lips, bald and shining with oil and juice, flexing open and shut. Did she, like Alex, think Mom's sex beautiful?

Sharon moved to the head of the table and said, "Time to roll over Ms. P."

After a second of hesitation Mom did. Sharon's appreciative eyes ran down Mom's physique and she said, "You're a beautiful woman Ms. P."

"Perhaps it's time you called me Jodi."

Her hands on Mom's shoulders Sharon said, "I'd like that," spread her fingers, moved them down. Eight slid alongside Mom's breasts, two strong thumbs moved across the ample tit-flesh, continued their journey, stopped at the top of her legs. Sharon leaned over, did it again. Mom felt it in her toes

The next time Sharon's hands glided further down, stopping on Mom's inner thighs, within a hair breadth of her pussy lips, and Mom, eyes flitting from Sharon's face to her swaying breasts, let out a gasp of air. Seeming not to notice Sharon did it several more times, picked up the bowl, moved to the side of the table, dribbled massage oil onto Mom's stomach, and said, "Mama told me you two went shopping at Colette's. I've never been there; is her stuff divine?"

Not knowing how much Sharon knew about Colette, Mom replied cautiously, "It's lovely."

Whirling her hands on Mom's stomach Sharon said, "I've seen what Mom brings home, but nothing else. She doesn't do on-line marketing. I guess she prefers the personal touch."

Distracted as the twirls of Sharon's hands, growing larger and larger, grazed, then swept over Mom's breasts, comparing Colette's strong stubby fingers to Sharon's delicate hands, thinking yeah, Colette preferred the personal touch, and what a sexy touch it was, Mom finally said, "She seems to," with a huskiness to her voice which gave away more than she'd intended.

But she needn't have worried, for Sharon next made clear there was no secret to give away. "Unfortunately the word is I'm not her type; she prefers older women, women like you and Mom. I can't blame her, you're so beautiful."

Sharon's wonderful oily hands were now focused entirely on Mom's breasts: gliding, rolling the ample flesh, squeezing, running thumbs on nipples.

It was no longer a massage; it was foreplay.

Alex's mantra – we mature ladies need to take care of our own needs – playing in her mind Mom wondered, while Sharon was seducing her was Alex seducing me? She should do something, but mind blanketed in a fog of lust and desire, not wanting Sharon to stop, Mom took cover behind the flimsiest of excuses: there was nothing she could do.

Sharon's hands left Mom's breasts, slid down her body; fingers moved along the sides of her labia, pressed the wet lips together.

Mom moaned and Sharon, picking up the bowl, dribbled the remaining oil atop Mom's mons. As it seeped over Mom's sex and thighs Sharon said, "How about you Ms. P, are you less discriminating than Colette? Can you accommodate a younger lover?"

Sharon cradled Mom's pussy lips between her fingers, moved them on each other, leaned down, kissed Mom's nose, lips, smiled when she saw the smile on Mom's face, then picked up one of the smooth grey stones, warmed it between her hands, dragged its edge on one of Mom's oiled breasts, teased the erect nipple, lay it on Mom's sex, rocked it back and forth until it sat snug on Mom's vagina, enveloped by swollen wet labial lips.

Mom knew the stone wasn't real, but felt its power.

Sharon picked up the stone, licked Mom's juice off it, said, "I used these stones on your son," covered Mom's breast with one hand, explored her sex with a single finger of the other. The finger jostled labial lips, slid through the valley between them, swirled on the clit, and joined by a second finger ventured inside.

Mom slid her foot backwards, raised her knee into the air.

Corkscrewing her fingers in and out, listening to Mom's gasps, learning what Mom liked best, what she wanted more of, Sharon covered Mom's clit, rocked it back and forth, up and down and with gentle unremitting pressure.

The tension mounting, wanting craving release, body undulating, dazed eyes fluttering open and shut, Mom's fingers tightened on the table's edge.

Sharon covered Mom's sex with the palm of her hand, flexed the heel on Mom's throbbing sodden clit, teased the opening of her vagina with her fingers. Wanting more, hands on the back of her thighs, Mom pulled her legs back, opening herself to Sharon. Sharon leaned forward, kissed Mom's breasts, her shoulder, pushed the fingers deep inside, then disrobing, slid onto the table, rolled Mom onto her side, worked Mom's clit while spearing two crooked fingers into Mom's cunt from underneath.

Fiery red-hot clit and pulsing g-spot merged. Mom moaned, her body heaved and rippled, she ran a hand on Sharon's arm, her fingers closing grasping the warm silken skin.

There'd be no more delays, no more shifts of position. Tension in her muscles, pressure in her sex, a deep ache in her stomach, Mom heard herself grunt and whine as sheets of color flickered and danced in her mind until finally there was the release she needed and she was coming, caught in the maelstrom, a blended orgasm more powerful than any her Osé had given her. Muscles clenching and spasming, the pressure, the ache, all was liberated and the orgasm swept though her as she screamed and hollered and babbled.

Mom sank onto the table. Sharon ran a hand up Mom's torso, kissed her lips, did it again, and soon kisses that started with pecks involved lips, then Sharon's tongue was in Mom's mouth until Mom pulled away and said, "Sharon please sit up."

Sharon pushed herself up, sat with her legs dangling over the table's edge. Mom, legs spread, pressed her body to Sharon's from behind, her large slick breasts flattening on Jodi's back, and ran open hands down Sharon's arms, across her flat toned stomach, pert young breasts, shapely shoulders. Recalling how good the massage oil had felt on her skin Mom dragged her fingertips through the bowl, claimed the residue, swirled her hands on Sharon's torso, on her breasts, until Sharon grabbed Mom's hand and pressed it to the opening of her sex. When Mom moved two fingers inside her Sharon leaned back, letting Mom support her weight.

"Are these the kind of games you and my son play on this table?"

Body undulating, breasts swaying, Sharon said, "Oh yes Ms. P, Sam is a wonderful lover."

Mom twisted her fingers deeper in Sharon's cunt; Sharon reached down, ran the pad of a finger on her anus, pushed it inside

Mom played with that finger through the thin wall separating Sharon's cunt and anus.

Sharon's cunt swelled and quivered, her moans, deep and intense, were supplanted by sharp, "Enh, enh, enhs." Focusing on Sharon's g-spot – her Osé had taught her all about g-spots – Mom dragged her fingers through Sharon's sex while Sharon's finger moved in and out of her anus like a cosmic pogo stick.

"Unnnhg, oh yes, Ms. P, Jodi, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes, yes, oh yes, oh frigging yes, ohh frriiiggggingggg yesssss, ohhhh frriiiggggginnnngggggg yesssssss."

Sharon went over the edge and Mom pulled a second, then third orgasm from her until Sharon squeaked, "No more, please no more," and flopped onto the table, laying on her side, still except for quivering leg. Mom stroked Sharon's body, kissed the back of her head and neck.

* * * * *

That night Sharon and I were on a date and Mom, home alone, texted her husband/my father, thanking him for the Mother's Day flowers, turned off the light, lay in bed, mind awash. Earlier, when I'd come home, amiable lazy smile on my face, Mom knew while she'd been making love to Sharon, Alex and I did the same. She knew she was being a hypocrite but she was pissed. How dare Alex seduce her son!

She rolled over, but sleep wouldn't come. Images, explicit and raw, of Alex and I filled her mind. She tried thinking of something else, but her sex-obsessed mind could only turn to her porn, her Osé, Colette, Sharon's sweet touch. There was only one way she'd find the release she needed to sleep. She went to the computer, scrolled down the videos, selected one. The MILF hung up her phone, heard a knock, opened the front door, greeted a good looking visitor – he kinda looked like me – her son's best friend. She explained her son just called, was stuck at his job, was running late, asked if he'd like a glass of water.

They sat in the kitchen, drank, their conversation happy and animated. Her phone rang; her son wasn't going to be able to get away for hours.

Their love-making was passionate and vigorous and when her son came home an hour later – had it been a set up, no one cared – he stripped and joined them.

Fingers pulling and twisting her nipples, her Ose' working to perfection, Mom's orgasm was sweet, fierce, and powerful. Sleep came quickly.

* * * * *

Mom was busy that week, taking depositions all day, working on transcripts at night, happy for the excuse to skip yoga and delay the inevitable confrontation with Alex.

And unable to get pictures of naked Alex and naked me out of her mind, unable to deny how excited they made her, she ended each day with MILF porn and her Osé.

* * * * *

Dad returned the following week, took Mom out for her belated Mother's Day dinner, said the state's annual inspection of truckers was upcoming; he'd be working late at the yard the rest of the week.

Which meant when Alex texted about yoga, Mom no longer had an excuse.

After yoga, over a glass of tea, after a brief exchange of pleasantries Alex got to the point.

"I guess we need to talk."

"Yeah."

"Sam and I did it, we made love."

With more than a hint of tit-for-tat in her voice Mom said, "I know, so did your daughter and I."

"She told me, said it was wonderful."

Off-balance, unsure of how to respond to this blithe reply, Mom went a bit catty. "Did you know she was gay?"

Alex smiled and said, "Hardly dear, I fear my daughter takes after her mother, she goes both ways, although, thanks to your son, at the moment prefers men. I suspect my daughter's generation finally figured it out. Women, or at least most of us, are to some degree gay. The kids understand that there's no need to label this freedom."

Her mind on Colette, voice faltering, Mom said, "Perhaps," then, returning to the issue between them, said, "You and my son, who, who... How did it happen?"

At first dropping her eyes to collect her thoughts, Alex fixed her gaze on Mom and said, "Jodi, I do need to apologize, I'm guilty of not being open with you. I just didn't see our friendship developing; I should have told you right away. It didn't start Mother's Day. It started the month after Sam and Sharon started dating. It's not the first time she and I shared a lover."

Already knowing the answer Mom said, "But why, why my son?"

"Because we mature ladies need to take care of our needs, because skilled young lovers like Sam are rare and ones you can trust rarer. Because everyone is of the age of majority and consents. Because our children don't play by the same rules you and I did at their age. Because it makes everyone happy. But you're right, I should have told you."

"So why didn't you?"

"I chickened out, told myself it'd be better to show you. I guess I figured, or rationalized, that it was like honey. I can explain honey to you all day long but you have to taste it to understand. And now that you've tasted it, been with Colette, been with Sharon, spread your horizons, do you understand?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I understand the desire to protect your son, but what are you protecting him from? Sex? What's wrong with sex? What's better, embracing your sexual desires or denying them? Haven't you been exploring that exact question? Jodi, methinks you protest too much; I think you've turning envy into anger. Since you learned about Sam and I have you fantasized about a younger lover. In your mind's eye does he look like Sam?"

As that image filled her mind Mom protested, "Alex, you're talking about my son."

"I know I'm talking about your son. He's a sexually mature being, a very desirable sexually mature being. My daughter, your son, are skilled discreet lovers. And I noticed you didn't say no. So tell me, have you imagined Sam sexually?"

Shaking her head weakly Mom said, "Yes, I have, but..."

Seeing Mom had turned the corner, her voice confident, Alex said, "And has your mind fixated on younger lovers?"

As if confessing a crime Mom said, "Yes, that's true, but..."

"Have you imagined Sam naked?"

"Yes, yes I have."

Mom's increasing arousal evident Alex said, "Jodi, your son knows all about your non-existent sex life, but assumed you were okay with it. Sharon I have shown him you're not, couldn't be, that you're not a marble statute but a beautiful woman with the needs of a beautiful woman. And once he saw you that way he couldn't help but want you. He loves you, wants you to be happy, to have what you deserve. Plus you're fricking gorgeous and he's a teen-age boy with a teen-age boy's sex drive. Yeah, at first he felt weird about it, but Sharon and I have helped him understand he shouldn't."

* * * * *

Mom couldn't get the conversation with Alex out of her head and with Dad in town, her access to porn limited, growing ever hornier, the notions of Alex, Sharon, and I as lovers, of incest, began their migration from the unthinkable to the possible. What again was wrong with it? Was she more satisfied with her life, was she happier, did she have her shit together any better than Alex? Who was she to say Alex was wrong?

At times, I'm not sure she was even conscious of it, her eyes would settle on me, re-framing me, imagining a different reality for me, for her, for us.

The porn Mom was able to watch told the story, videos whose titles suggested you were watching stepmothers and stepsons, but who called each other "mother" and "son."

I complimented her, paid attention to her, but not as a son to a mother. I kissed her, touched her, let my lips and hands linger on her skin. My hand would find its way to her neck, knead the muscles, move to her shoulders and back.

* * * * *

The day Dad headed back out on the road I got home, heard the sound of porn coming from the home theater.

There was no reason to think I'd be home, but no reason to think I wouldn't. Mom was being careless, on purpose.

Leaning on the door frame I saw her on the love seat, wearing lacy bra and panties, sitting on a towel, sliding her hands down her body.

On screen was a topless woman in a Jacuzzi. Blonde, breasts full, face narrow, the resemblance to Mom was unmistakable. A younger man stood on the deck. She struggled with something under the water, turned, tossed her thong onto the deck, and look of surprise on her face said, "I'm sorry son, how long have you been here?"

Mom pulled aside her panties with one hand, caressed her sex with the other, ran her middle finger down the labial slit to the opening of her vagina, pushed it in, little by little, but not all the way, slipped it out, moved it to her clit, wet it, circled it.

Mom said, "Enjoying the show son?"

"You knew I was here?"

"I saw you pull up."

I looked at the window. The shade, instead of being pulled down as usual, sat several inches above the sill allowing a view of the driveway.

Mom said, "Do you enjoy fucking Alex?"

Not expecting her to be this direct or to use profanity I answered without prevarication, "Very much."

"And that's okay with Sharon?"

"It was her idea."

"Alex and Sharon share you; Alex and Sharon are lovers?"

"True."

"Is it also true that you want me as your lover?"

Nodding my head in the affirmative I said, "Yes."

"So Alex was telling the truth. You understand that if the world found out it would condemn me, claim I seduced you although we both know it was you and your buddies Alex and Sharon that have been seducing me. You understand what it would do to me, to your father?

"If you're asking if I can keep a secret, I can."

Seeing no uncertainty in my eyes, hearing none in my voice, she said, "So says Alex. Come hold me."

I sat on the love seat and Mom leaned into me, lay her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her chest, atop her breasts, kissed the side of her head. The young man on the screen stripped, slid into the hot tub, and they kissed, again and again, lips tongues moving gliding on each other, heat and passion growing until he sat on the edge of the tub. She moved her blonde hair aside so he could watch her take his cock in her mouth.

Mom said, "The title of this video suggests they're stepmother and stepson, but she calls him son, he calls her Mom."

"An incredibly close stepmom and stepson?"

With a smile Mom said, "That appears obvious, but I went back and checked other stepmother/stepson videos I've watched. It turns out it's almost always true. I missed that, on a conscious level I mean."

"So you think the titles are misleading, that they're straight incest fantasies, that such fantasies are common?"

"Yes, that's what I'm thinking."

"That makes me feel better."

"What do you mean son?"

"I have my own incest fantasy."

"Have you been thinking about your mother?"

"My Mom, my sexy big-titted Mom? Every fricking day."

Pressing her small tight ass to my cock, Mom swivelled her hips and said, "Son, no reason to be vulgar. Do you and Sharon sit in this room, watch porn on this television, watch it while you have sex?"

"How did you know?"

"I'm more computer savvy than you know. I can tell it's been run through the home theater, and I'm sure it isn't your father, or me. I also noticed you've downloaded porn into your father's computer."

I said, "Guilty," and Mom slipped her hand into her panties, placed two fingers on her clit, and leaning on my body for leverage, pressed her sex to those fingers, moaned. My hips, on automatic pilot, moved with hers. Mom braced her feet on the floor and arched her back increasing the pressure on her clit. I slid my hands under her bra, caressed her full breasts, played with her surprisingly small nipples. The inner lips of her sex turned a deep purple, her swelling breasts grew warmer, and her fingers, initially deliberate and steady, became sloppy and frantic as she drove herself closer to orgasm.

I licked her ear, whispered, "Look at the screen."

The mother was leaning forward, hands on the Jacuzzi's edge. Her son, standing behind her, filled her with stiff hard dick, a grunt exploding from her lungs each time he bottomed out inside her.

Staring at the incestuous images on the screen, jagging her clit, hips bucking and body writhing, with a sharp ecstatic, "Bbbbrrrrrnnnnhhhh," Mom went sailing over the edge.

Wrapping one arm around her chest, I rocked my open hand on her sex, drawing out her orgasm, then slipped two fingers inside her, wiggled them, pulled them out, licked the thick creamy residue from one side, offered the fingers to Mom. Holding my wrist she swallowed them, scoured every curve and crevice with tongue and teeth, then drew them from her mouth and said, "That was amazing."

"Mom, you deserve a good lover."

"And what about your father?"

"Dad? What Dad wants is the love of a wonderful agreeable woman, which he has, but for reasons unfathomable prefers it sex-less. Neither of us want to deprive him of that life. How likely are you to remain wonderful and agreeable if you're sexually frustrated?"

Drawing her knees to her chest, pushing her panties down her legs, Mom said "Son, for your information I'm always wonderful and agreeable, but I've been watching a lot of porn recently, re-thinking my limitations."

She unhooked her bra, dropped it next to her panties, stood. I'd never seen her naked. She was a long slender supple muscle with tits, firm tits, big tits, great tits.

"Do you want me son?"

"Yes, yes, yes I do."

Mom turned and her ass moving like a wave walked to the window, pulled the shade down, said, "When I found out you'd slept with Alex I was angry. I confronted her. She, per usual, was non-plussed, suggested I was jealous, that I needed a young discreet lover and you were perfect. Sam, I want it all, the life I have – my husband and my marriage – and a sex life. I want to experiment, try the forbidden. I'm aroused all the time. Alex is right, I need, excuse my language, to be fucked. Often. By people I can trust. You up to it?"

I walked to her, wrapped my arms around her from behind. Our bodies touching along their entire lengths she leaned into me, trapping my hardening cock between us, turned, pecked my lips, said, "I want to do this in my bed."

Holding hands, we walked down the hall. She' prepared the bed: neatly made, blanket folded back. Mom, back straight, posture perfect, sat on its edge, pressed her hands to the mattress testing its strength, turned and, displaying her ass and sex, crawled on all fours to the middle, rolled over, and lying on her back, starring at the ceiling fan, contemplated what was about to happen, before moving up, sitting against the headboard, and voice certain saying, "Yes, this is what I want."

I stripped, got on the bed next to her, took her hands in mine, kissed them, brushed a few stray strands of blonde hair from her face and, hand on her chin, tilted her head back, kissed her. She exhaled, I slipped my tongue between her thin lips. Our tongues met, twisted on each other. She leaned into me, the weight of her breasts on my chest. Our tongues grew bolder.

Pre-cum oozed from my cock.

Mom reached for my dick. I leaned back, giving her unimpeded access, watched her face. I was not disappointed. Eyes wide she said, "This is going to require both hands," folded the fingers of one on the shaft, cupped my balls with the other, rolled them back and forth, then released my testicles, wrapped the hand on my shaft, jerked. Pre-cum spilled from my crown. Mom caught it with a finger, brought it to her nose, sniffed, said, "You smell like a man."

"I am a man."

Twisting her hands on my shaft Mom said, "Don't be silly, you'll always be my baby boy. Can I taste it? It's been years since I tasted one. I've learned a lot from the videos."

"Go ahead."

Making a show of stretching her jaw, she pushed her hair aside so I could watch her slide her lips on the head, then mouth opened wide, move down, real slow, stopping when her jaw, slender and out-of-practice, could accept no more.

Her strong flexible tongue then went to work and soon I was moaning in joy and approval. Laying her tongue flat on the underside of my dick she moved up and when I slipped out she wrapped her mouth around my shaft from the side and holding me between soft thin wonderful lips moved up my length.

I watched, I whimpered.

She stopped at the head, licked it, extended her tongue, teased it, and hand on my chest moved me back until I lay on the bed. I grabbed a pillow, stuffed it under my head, and was rewarded as Mom, blowing me a kiss, tied her hair in a pony tail, slid between my legs, said, "I like the videos where the man holds the woman by her hair."

As I wrapped my fingers on her pony tail she lowered her head, teased the crown with quick flicks of her tongue, arched her back, waggled her ass, took my cock in her mouth, shoved her head down, absorbing half my member. She mumbled something – the words indecipherable, the tone positive – moved back a couple of inches, suckled and licked until spit ran from the corners of her mouth. Having grown comfortable with me stuffed in her face she bobbed her head, took me further inside until she gagged, pulled her mouth from my cock, gasped for air, licked my balls with the flat of her tongue, worked back up the shaft with sweet kisses.

I pulled her to me, kissed her juicy mouth. Mom kissed back with passion and hunger and need.

Certain Mom would be my lover I moved her onto her back, kissed the side of her face, her cheeks, along her jaw line to her neck, kissed down one collar bone, up the other. I grabbed her tits, far bigger than a handful, pressed them together, buried my face in them, moved back and forth, nipped and sucked and licked her hard nipples, left a trail of kisses down her stomach to her belly button, pressed my face to her, her pubic mound on my chin.

She smelled like sex.

Holding her tiny waist I surrounded her mons with kisses, kissed along the creases of her thighs, down her leg, back to her vagina, buried my nose in her slit, suffusing myself in the burning scent of her arousal, flattened the tip of my tongue on her clit. My spit trickled down and lubricated it, my warm breath wafted over it.

Grabbing my shoulders, she said, "Please son, please."

She was right; this was no time to tease. I pushed my tongue inside her, wiggled it, twirled it, pulled it out, pushed it in. Mom jerked and bucked and chirped her obscene pleasure and, hands locked on Mom's hips, I tongue fucked her until, tongue exhausted, I moved up, caught her clit with my lips, sucked it into my mouth.

Mom ground her hips on my face, rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger, mauling the sensitive nubs.

My tongue recovered I slapped her clit with its tip, faster harder, jammed my thumb into her sex, twisted it, mercilessly driving her towards the cataclysm. Mom, laying open before me, jibbered and undulated. The fiery pressure in her belly built and built, so intense it ached, and finally panted, "I'm going to..."

Her vagina tensed and tightened. I trapped her clit on my teeth, battered it with my tongue. Mom, her feet on my shoulder, curled her lithesome legs around my head, let go of her tits to hold my head tight to her bucking hips. She came, rocketing to the peak of a climax that shook her body as the tectonic pressure inside her let go. Mouth open wide I sucked down the juice flooding her vagina.

Strength gone, Mom's hands slipped from my head.

I looked up, face coated with juice. Mom, attempting to catch her breath, happy and exhausted, whispered, "Kiss me."

I slid up the bed and Mom caressed my face with the back of her hand, folded the hand on the back of my neck, guided me to her lips, snaked her tongue in my mouth, welcomed mine into hers, acquainting herself with the taste of her sex on my tongue.

When done she dropped her head to the mattress and said, "This kissing my son, screwing my son, it's going to work out just fine. Heck, I might even grow fond of occasional dirty talk."

A smile on my face I said, "Sure looks like it."

She stretched, said, "Good, because I need you inside me," and spread her legs. Moving between them I held myself up over her, my hard cock on her slit, and thrust forward; it popped out and slid up her slit to her clit. She was wet, soft, and swollen, and I moved my cock up and down her sex, coating myself with her juice.

Mom, enjoying the feel of a man's body on her, rocked her hips, cooing each time my bloated cock-head ran over her clit, reached between our bodies, placed me at the entrance to her sex, and thinking her beloved Ose' had not prepared her for something my size, held me, fed a couple inches into her sex, moved me back a bit, another inch inside, said, "Go slow Sam. It's been awhile."

That I did, moving into her in small stages, reading her reactions, giving her time, until after several delightful minutes I was buried within her. The walls of her sex were wrapped tight on my cock, her well-muscled pussy stretched, molded itself to my girth.

I stayed still. Mom shivered and quivered, exhaled, wrapped her arms around me.

After several minutes I rocked backwards but Mom, crammed full of dick, a sensation too long denied her, raised her hips keeping me inside. I pushed, going deeper, and when my balls banged on her rump I pulled back. When she again raised her hips I thrust forward driving her into the mattress, air exploding from her lungs at the unexpected force, then pulled out until only my tip was inside her. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, pulled me into her. We ground our hips together, lubricated and stretched each other.

"Oh Sam. You're hitting all the spots, ones I remember, ones I'd forgotten, ones I never knew I had.

My thrusts, slow and measured, stoked the fire burning bright within us.

I rolled my hips forward with each penetration, catching her enflamed clit between our pubic bones. Sweat dripped from her sides, her heart pounded, her skin flushed. Saying, "Don't stop," she dug strong fingers into my skin.

We fucked, bodies meshed, joined together. Mom's pussy was wonderful and slick and tight, the pressure in my belly spiked, spiked again.

"Harder son, oh harder, oooohhhh."

Recalling her musing about dirty talk, wanting to spur her on, I said, "Oh fuck Mom, you're so tight, so tight, such a hot cunt."

"Uuunhhhhhhh"

"You like my dick Mom, my big fat hard dick, your son's dick?"

"Uuuunnnhhhhhhhhhh"

"Tell me, what do you want Mom, tell me how you want to be fucked."

In a voice soft and needy Mom said, "I want to be fucked, fucked, fucked, fucked, like a porn star."

Raising myself on my arms I did, harder and harder, the slapping sound of our colliding bodies sharp and loud. We moaned, we shook, and Mom, recalling skills too long unused, squeezed and flexed and clenched and tightened the muscles of her sex. I was close but wanting Mom to come with me I changed my angle, ensuring each thrust dragged my thick purple cock-head over her g-spot.

"Oh son, oh son, oh son, I need this, I need this."

Twisting at the waist I took one of Mom's nipples into my mouth.

"Oh oh, so good, I'm, I'm, I'm getting close. Oh so, so good, so good, please, yes, please, oh yes son, so close, so close, it's been so long."

Letting the nipple slip from her mouth I raised myself on my hands. Mom, hands locked on the back of her thighs, pulled her legs forward, opening herself to me. The mattress bounced, the bed frame rattled. Mom grunted, "Harder," each time I entered her.

I fucked her with animal intensity; my cock got bigger harder. Her body flushed, hips twitched and bucked, lower abdomen contracted with a fierce rhythm, and with a sharp, "Oh frick yes," she came. Her cunt clamped down on me and, "Mmggifffuuuuuu," exploding from my lungs I pushed deep into her, held myself there, shot rope after rope of thick hot cum inside her, flooding a mother's womb with a son's seed.

We lay there, an intertwined sweaty sticky mess struggling to catch its breath. Finally, my deflated cock still inside her, I went to push myself up but Mom said, No," pulled me to her chest, brushed her fingers through my hair, said, "I like this, like the way you feel inside me, the way your cum warms me. It's perfect."

"Yeah," I said.

We held each other, were quiet until Mom, the vigor in her voice signaling returning strength, said, "Your father's on the road several more days. Do you think Alex and Sharon are up for a sleep over?"

"Yep," I said, "I reckon' they are."