The pendulum in the clock made a crisp metallic click with each swing. It was an antique regulator that had to be tightened with a key every morning. It was hanging in our kitchen for as long as I could remember...yet, this was the first time I would recall hearing that empty, measured noise.
I sat there hunched over in my chair, trying to listen to the muffled conversation my parents and the cop were having in the living room. Just bits of words registered...the cop's monotone voice and my father's agitated verbal parries.
The clock struck eleven and the chime struck eleven times.
...doom...doom...doom...
After a few minutes the cop swung the door open, his face deeply lined and purposely grim.
"This time you get a break, mainly 'cause of your folks here," he growled. "Anything like it ever happens again and you'll be sittin' your ass in a cell....Clear?"
"Answer the officer," my father snapped as he came up behind the cop.
"Yes."
"And thank him," he went on.
"Thank..."
"I don't need no 'thank you', son," the cop cut in roughly, jabbing a finger my way for emphasis. "Just don't ever let it happen again. And keep your ass clear of the girl. I don't want you even giving her so much as a hello."
With that he turned and the door swung back and forth across the void.
I sat there and sank my face into my hands, hearing the front door close and then the police cruiser's engine starting. The cop had pulled into our driveway with the light flashing...our nosy neighbors no doubt seeing him amble up to our front door.
The door was shoved open with a crash and my father stood there glaring at me, the veins taut in his neck. He was so furious he was shaking...he lurched forward, his mouth working, working...
"What is wrong with you? Damn it, I want an answer!"
"David, not now," my mother interjected, stepping into the doorway and setting a steadying hand on her husband's shoulder.
Her voice was pure frost, her posture stonily erect as always.
"Police come to our house with the lights on telling us he's a..."
"Not now. Not tonight."
"Perverted tendencies," my father muttered. "I gotta hear that from a police officer sitting in our goddamned living room."
"David, go to bed. Have a drink first."
"I don't need a drink."
"Yes you do, and so do I. We'll address this tomorrow when we are both calmer."
My father nodded finally and with one last scathing glance at me he turned and stomped away.
"I'm sorry..."
"Shut your mouth and go to bed. And stay there," she hissed. Anger and ice...no one could pour them together quite like my mother. "Don't come out tomorrow either. Stay in there until I come and get you."
I felt her eyes following me as I stood and went up the stairs to my room. From the top tier I glanced down and saw that flinty unbending focus.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I had risen early that morning and stayed in bed as ordered. I thought of last night and draped my forearm across my eyes.
Karen Hall was no fucking beauty...that was for sure. Not even decently stacked. We'd been dating since the end of January...and I gotta admit I asked her out only because I heard she fucked. And unlike so much lewd high school gossip, she actually did. I'd fucked her for a total of seventeen times since March when she finally came across...yes, I kept an exact tabulation...and every time she acted like she was opening the pearly gates for me. Looking back on this through nearly five decades of experience, she was a truly one lousy lay.
But when you're a horned up eighteen year old, who'd had maybe five furtive handjobs up until then...tapping that pussy with my Trogen wrapped dick was just a few wondrous clicks from nirvana.
Then last night...Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking...
I heard my father's car backing out of the garage and got out of bed. A watched his Buick until it disappeared down the street. I felt bewildered that he hadn't come up to speak to me...and then the icy realization that my mother would be the one to rip into me snaked down my spine. My mother had never struck me, not once...but, yes I was as intimidated by her as anyone could possibly be.
The knock on my door was crisp and came just a few minutes after my father left.
"Are you up?"
"...Yeah."
"Then shower and get dressed. I'll be waiting in the den."
I heard her march down the hallway, then down the stairs.
"Christ," I muttered, for some reason seeing the ragged seam of Karen's dress flapping across her back as she bolted from my car and half-staggered up the sidewalk to her front porch. Spinning in that last second as her fucking mom opened the door, her ruined mascara ringed in horrible smudges.
I showered and got dressed. My stomach turned sourly.
I went downstairs and stood outside the den, a sunken room where our television was.
My mother snapped her fingers and pointed my ass towards the couch. I sat like a cowed dog.
"Mother, I'm..."
"Please keep your mouth closed. Not a word."
My mother...Mother, never Mom, not once...was, as always, perfectly coifed. Her dress was an old one she'd wear around the house, perfectly ironed with thin bluish stripes. The hem came just below her knees. Her greying hair was braided tautly, her makeup minimal and perfectly done. The soft beige loafers she wore were her house shoes...she never set foot outside except in heels.
"Your father and I decided that I should handle this situation," she said after a moment. Which meant that she had "told" my father that this was how it was going to be handled. She stepped to the window and looked outside as she went on.
"First, I want to know if you understand the potential peril you've put yourself in, to say nothing of the embarrassment you've caused our family."
"I know it was..."
"Do you realize that you could go to jail...to prison."
"I didn't do anything."
"No, you just went crazy and tried to rip your girlfriends dress off and rape her." Her phrasing was clipped...a rapid fire staccato indictment.
"That's not what happened."
"Was her dress torn?"
I didn't answer.
"Was her dress torn?" she repeated, stretching out each syllable. I saw my mother's shoulders rippling beneath the dress. She straightened herself even more.
"...Yes."
"I would say that that's a prelude to rape. Your father is an attorney, shall I phone him to confirm that?"
"...No."
"Giving you the benefit of the doubt, I would speculate that you and this girl were doing something arousing, and at some point she balked as to going further and you...
She turned and met my eyes.
"Did she ask you to stop?...Did she make the word 'stop' come out of her mealy mouth?"
Karen franticly twisting away from me, tugging her dress back down...stop....stop....stop....
I nodded.
"It surprises me to some extent, as my read on this girl was that she was rather common. Someone for a young man to..." she turned back to the window pane, and let the acid drip like venom "...to amuse himself with. To practice on, as it were."
"Don't talk about her like that," I blurted, regretting it immediately.
"The police officer, whom luckily your father knows, referenced "perverse behavior." Intercourse does not equate with perversion usually, at least not to a hardened law enforcement officer...should I guess as to what perversion you were trying to initiate with this little tramp?"
I sank deeper into the couch and shook my head.
"I'm glad of that. The issue here is you have to learn that when a woman says stop, you must stop."
"I know that."
"Oddly, you don't. And if this tramp's..."
"Don't call her that."
"If this little tramp's parents had deigned to press charges in this matter, you would be looking at a criminal arrest. Does that fact penetrate into your thick skull?"
"It does."
"You will not contact this girl again."
I nodded.
"Say it!"
"I won't contact her again."
"I told your father I would make sure this will never reoccur."
"It won't."
"Except when your hormones are rife and the word "stop" doesn't register in the reptilian recesses of your brain."
"Look I know..."
She left the window and stood before me, as stern and forbidding as I'd ever seen her.
"You are going to learn to hear the word 'stop'."
She gracefully eased onto the couch alongside me, carefully straightening the pleats of her dress.
"Move over to me," she said coldly, a hand on the cushion beside her.
"Why?"
"I'll explain it as you're obviously slower today than is usual," she said, tilting her head to screw her gaze into my own. "You are going to kiss me...make-out with me if that's easier for your oily teenage male mind to comprehend."
"Wha..."
"When I say stop, you will stop. Immediately!"
"What..."
"Do not say 'what' again."
As edgy a silence as I've ever experienced hung in the air. My mind was...what fucking shit was...
"I'm not doin' that!" I'd bolted up off the couch without realizing I'd done it. "Are you fucking nuts?"
"Do not curse in this house."
"Fuck that...you are nuts..."
"Then you are grounded and you will stay grounded."
"Great, ground me. I'll stay locked up 'til the fall when I go to college and am done with this house. Kiss you...make out with you?...You say I got perverse tendencies?"
My mother's face ticked, her breath seemed to catch. Then a thin rictus smile creased her mouth.
"Oh, I wouldn't count on going off to college in September."
I jerked still.
"You don't have a scholarship offer do you? Were you keeping it a secret? A surprise for my birthday...look mother, I have the good grades and smarts to get a full academic scholarship. You and father won't have to pay a dime. Is that it? I'd hope so if I were you, since if I don't feel confident in your ability to act civilized towards females, we won't be sending any checks to the bursar. "
I still hadn't budged,
"Are you wondering what a bursar is, son?"
"I know what..."
"Now," she cut in, pointing her manicured index finger to the empty spot on the couch.
"This isn't right that you want me..."
"I am not exactly enthused about the idea of this either. But you will do it, and you will do it now. With your pervert leanings, I'm frankly surprised you're this hesitant....Now sit!"
She waited...waited longer.
Fucking bitch...
I shook my head and finally sat next to her.
"Okay, kiss me," she ordered, leaning in just a bit. I didn't move...it's weird to say how viscerally repulsed I was at that moment.
"Oh, Jesus," she rasped, and lurched forward, her mouth glancing off mine as I shrank away.
My mother grabbed ahold of my face, digging in with her fingers as she squared my mouth to hers. I felt her lips on my own, her eyes opened and almost predatory in their focus. I again tried to yank back but she dug in all the harder and mashed her mouth to mine, grinding so hard I could feel my teeth gouging into my flesh.
Her tongue suddenly slithered on my clenched lips...
"Open your mouth," she snapped.
Again that tongue, my lips still unyielding...she pressed into me harder. I registered an almost maniacal anger rising in her eyes. "...Open it!"
I ceded without any conscious thought and immediately felt the onslaught of her coarse tongue probing wetly against my own.
Then she softened, her kiss becoming softer...her tongue swirling sensuously now. I felt my heart hammer of its own volition. Her left hand glided up the interior of my thigh...
Her right palm was a caress then, silky on my ear. I heard my breathing become shallow as I leaned into her...I did it without thinking...my tongue slipped into her mouth. She pulled away and then came to me again. My mother sucked my tongue, the damp deliciousness of the act...I leaned in harder...her left hand glided over my crotch...she made a discovery.
"Ohhh..." she whispered.
Her fingernails traced out the contours of my erection... I slipped my hand around her waist...
"Stop!"
"Huh..."
"Stop," she commanded, slapping her hand hard against my chest.
I pulled away, my head spinning.
My mother stood smoothly, mantling me like a hawk.
"Well, you didn't rape me," she said contemptuously. "Congratulations."
"I..."
"So now you see how this'll be."
"I'm...I..."
"You are grounded for the month. Tomorrow morning we will do this again." She bent down and smoothed her dress. "And please don't abuse yourself on the sofa. Go to the bathroom in the basement if you have to."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Abuse myself...
Bitch...
I jerked off in the dingy basement bathroom standing...came hard in the sink. I sank onto the floor...the most ferocious orgasm I'd even fucking had. It took me five minutes to get my legs back...I left the sink streaked with thick, drying rivulets of semen. Let her clean that!
That day and at dinner that night, my mother was impossibly cool for a woman who'd just felt her son's hardened cock...who had fairly raped his mouth with her tongue. She had polite chit-chat with my father...he was notably cool to me, clearly still pissed about the cops and everything. How I would have liked dropping the goods on my mother to him right then and there.
That night I jerked off again, trying to imagine my own mother actually grabbing my bare shaft. I came in less than a minute, just as hard as the first time.
"Sit," my mother said at exactly ten the next morning. She was dressed in a simple but elegant yellow dress, her braided grayish hair laid perfectly.
"I have my card club today and then lunch," she was saying absently. "I just hope none of the girls heard about your dustup."
"I'm sorry if..."
"If they did, they did," she went on with a shrug, taking a coat hanger off the corner chair. She came over to me and offered her back. "They all have their own incidents too....Unzip me."
She looked over her shoulder impatiently. "Come on. I don't want the dress wrinkled."
I hesitated. My mother had asked me a few times over the years to "zip me up" in the most matter-of-fact ways. While I'd never thought of my mother in any kind of sexual terms...at least not until she sucked on my tongue...the titillation of drawing up a zipper on her dress was very real. She glanced back again and made an impatient lip click...I reached up and tremulously pulled the zipper down her spine. My mother went to the door and shrugged the dress down her slip clad body. Carefully she fixed it on the hanger and hung it from the door.
I don't know why, but I quickly averted my eyes from her.
"You can look. It's okay," she spoke up
My mother was forty-six that year, her auburn hair having gone a rich steel gray in her early forties. The affect, when combined with her flawless alabaster complexion, lent her an almost regal air. Her posture was erect, spine squared atop her hips.
Without meaning to I trailed my gaze up her long silk clad legs...she was tall, five foot ten she'd say, but I always felt she was taller. The slip cut mid-thigh, white and lace edged. My mother had stayed slim, a svelteness that didn't lend itself to many curves. The spaghetti straps on the slip askew with the thicker straps of her hidden brassiere.
"Let's get started," she said she said, smoothly slipping onto the couch next to me.
I stared at the bare shoulders, the contours of her smallish breasts.
"Come on," she went on and leaned in to kiss me...again, for some reason, I shrank back. She gave me an exasperated glare and once more dug in ferociously on me.
Again that wonderfully probing tongue of hers, hands on my chest, roaming now.
"Here," she muttered and drew my palm to her stockinged thigh...my breathing melted.
"You like that?" she purred. I did and my hand slid along her firm leg...I slid it higher, on her hip, beneath the slip.
"Be careful of the stocking, I don't want a runner."
"Okay..."
She was kissing her way up my neck, her tongue wetly delving into my ear.
"You can touch me wherever," she whispered breathlessly, my hand by then clasped onto her hip, fingers edging to the curving horizon of her of ass.
"Here," she fairly cooed, pulling back a bit and putting my other palm on her right breast. I felt the firmness of it, leaned in and instinctively mashed as rabid a kiss as I'd ever given on her mouth...
"Stop!"
"Huh I..."
"Stop! Get your dirty hands off me." My mother roughly disentangled herself from my grasp, bouncing to her shoeless feet like a ballerina.
"I..."
"When I say stop, you don't take a second to think. You stop. I want you pulling off me like I gave you an electric shock."
She swept across and plucked the dress down from its hanger.
"And if you soil that sink again, you clean it up. If you don't...I'll ground you for another week."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
To say I was roiled...a nice word there...roiled...would be an understatement. I sat on the couch and stared blankly at the door she'd just slammed shut.
"Fuckin' bitch," I wheezed...my breathing was a ragged tumult. I stood after a moment and unceremoniously dropped my pants. I jerked off right there...it didn't take long, a minute tops, my ejaculate splaying across the shag carpet. I stood there stunned by the level of arousal and anger coursing through my veins. I rubbed the semen into the rug with my foot.
"She wants to fucking play..."
The words trailed away. I felt dangerous standing there. Tomorrow I'd start playing too.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
That morning I was up early, showered. I ate breakfast with my parents. I said goodbye to my father...his anger from the deal with Karen and the cops seeming to have mollified.
Then I went into the den and waited. My mother came in a few minutes later. I glanced at my watch. She was dressed plainly, an old polka dot dress that buttoned up the front...one of the "house" dresses she'd wear while cleaning. I have to mention that my mother always wore a dress or skirt...I'd never seen her in a pair of slacks or shorts even once.
"Ready?"
"I'm waiting," I answered evenly.
My mother stared at me for a long pull, evidently taking a read off me.
"Dress on or off," she asked, touching the top button.
Cool and even went right out the window. "...Off..." I stammered.
"Okay," she said flatly, and with blah, mechanical flutter quickly undid the buttons and shrugged it off. She folded it across the back an armchair.
Just a slip today, an old one that was yellowed with wear...her legs were bare.
"So..."she mouthed as she took her usual seat next to me.
I leaned in and kissed her...she tugged back a bit, eyes widened. Then she caught herself and kissed me back. Our mouths ground together; I waited her out and soon she snaked her tongue with mine. I glided my hand up her thigh...smooth pale skin...I pressed in harder. She seemed to panic a bit, a frantic squirming in my grasp. My gaze caught on the top of her slip...bare flesh as I looked down the billowed silk. She hadn't put on a brassiere today. I saw the creamy curves of her breasts...a shift in position...her right nipple, pink and peaked.
I clasped the breast through the sheer fabric...her neck muscles tightened, I bent and put my lips to the shrouded nipple.
"...stop...Stop..."
But I was already off her as the words still hung in the air. I held palms out...look mom, no hands...and I grinned. I stood first...yes, I was hard as a rock. Yes, I did nothing to hide my evident bulge.
"Is that it for today, Mother?"
She frankly glared at me...then nodded coldly. stepped over and picked up the dress and held it out for her. She stood and yanked it from my grasp.
I watched for a bit...she was ready to put it on, but became aware of my attention. She stomped out of the room, dress clutched in her hand.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I played it the same for the next two days...both times she stripped to her slip...perfunctory kissing...I got my paws on her ass...suckled those silk-capped nipples...and yes, bounced off her like she was pure plutonium as soon as she started to say stop. That second day I clapped out like a casino dealer, my grin as cool as ice.
That third day she showed up in a blouse and skirt. She peered down at me for a long moment and then wordlessly stripped down to just a bra and panties.
Her body was still good for a woman her age, the stomach flat and smooth. Her legs, like I mentioned, were long and taut...the white panties giving me my first good look at them.
She sat, hooking one leg beneath her...leaning in to offer her lips. I was feeling that hot rush of adrenalin I'd felt that first day. I kissed her hard, pushing her backwards now, I trailed my lips up the bow of her throat. I had a hand on a tit...a hand about her waist...
"Stop!"
This time I didn't pull off immediately, lost in the blur of lust.
"Stop!"
I pulled away...I felt a surge of anger rising in me. I lurched to my feet and turned...my vision tunneling as I stalked for the door.
"No croupier clap?" she mocked, aping my hand-clap from yesterday.
I spun on her and glared.
"I didn't say we're done," she went on, then reached behind her back and unclasped the brassiere. The straps slid down and she uncapped her breasts. They were small and wonderfully firm...the pinkish nipples peaked and long, the aureoles unusually broad, the size of a silver dollar.
"Come on, have at 'em," she said.
I came back and in an instant was sucking on them madly...one then the other...taking what seemed the entire breast into my mouth at one point. I grabbed her ass, slipping my hand beneath the panty line, feeling her leg snake behind my own. I pushed her down onto her back, actually halting at one point as if sensing her coming command.
Then she did it...a hand working deftly down the front of my pants...my mother had my cock and was straightening me...she squeezed it and started a slow stroke and...
"Stop!"
"What..."
"Stop, get the hell off me!"
She was shoving me so hard I slid of the couch. She bent down and shook me by the hair: "Get control of it. When I say stop, you better goddamn well stop!"
I stared up at my mother, felt the spray of spittle as she berated me, this icily remote woman clad only in those plain-Jane white panties, pert little tits in a furious jiggle.
She gathered up her clothes and stalked out of the room, leaving me splayed and impotent on the floor.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Let's go," she said without preamble the next morning, a snap of her fingers as she pointed me to my spot on the couch.
I was brooding and as angry as I'd ever been.
My mother stood and matter-of-factly started stripping down... the bra off last. Just as she turned to plop herself down, she eyed me and then casually slid the panties down her legs. Stripped bare...the triangle of pubic hair dense and steel gray.
"Come on, I didn't take all the starch out of you yesterday, did I," she taunted.
I wanted to walk out, but my gaze kept running down the length of her nude body...my own legs were suddenly rubbery.
She eased back and waited. I stepped in front of her and without asking pulled my shirt off.
"Okay," she nodded, opening her arms for me.
And I was on her then...trying to take my time now...I ran my fingers through the coarse tangle of her bush...moist like a dew-beaded lawn. I felt her breasts grind down beneath my bare chest...her breathing was ragged.
I grabbed her wrists and pinioned them over her head...I spread her legs roughly with my knee. My head was swirling.
"No, no..."
"Huh..."
"No!" she shouted, writhing against the hold I had on her wrists.
I sprang up...bitch...bitch...fuckin' bitch...
I was dangerously close to slapping her face...
"What're you doing?" came her voice in a near rasp.
"You said..."
"...I didn't say stop, did I?"
I blinked.
"Did I?"
I slowly shook my head. Her wrists were reddened. Her thin coat of lipstick was a blurry smudge. She reached down and using her panties, wiped it off.
I looked down at my own waist and slowly unbuckled my belt...I looked back at my mother and her face was smoothly unresponsive.
I tugged my pants and underwear down, kicking them away as my cock sprung free like a lunatic freshly escaped from the asylum.
I stepped closer, looming over her now...yes, ready for her to belt out a sadistic "stop".
I reached down and cupped her tit. She stiffened just a bit. I stroked my cock, the bulbous head obscenely purple. I roughly shoved her back and straddled her.
"No," she whispered in a cowed tone, shaking her head.
I grabbed her wrists again, throttling them with one hand. I ran my free hand between her legs...she was wet. She fought against my grip, thrashed, tried to bite at my arm.
"No...please...don't..."
"Fuck you," I wheezed.
"No..."
I grabbed my cock and worked it into her vulva.
"Stop, you can't do that!"
I put my free hand across her mouth...she twisted her head free of me.
"Not that," she yelled. "Stop!"
"I..."
"You can't have intercourse with me. What else do you want?"
What else...
I grabbed into her hair and drug her off the couch...put her down on her knees.
"No, please..."
I put it to her lips, craned her head back so I could look her in the face. Her face was flushed red, her eyes glazed. There was a wanton hunger there.
"Suck it!"
"No, please...I can't...please..."
"Open your fucking mouth!"
I rudely pressed it to her lips...my mother opened her mouth reluctantly. I shoved myself in until she retched.
"Suck it!"
She closed her eyes...I sank it in with another vicious thrust...I felt her gag.
"Now suck it," I demanded, but already sensed the swirling of her tongue, the suctioning as she began to minister to my shaft. I eased my fingers from her hair, mesmerized by the sight of her moving gracefully back and forth on my shaft.
It didn't take long before I wrenched into a blistering orgasm. It wasn't my first blowjob, but it was my first good one...thanks Karen. It was the first time I ejaculated in a woman's mouth.
And I thought blackly, just after I realized she swallowed the copious amount of sperm I'd just spurted into her throat, that this was definitely not my mother's first either.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Are you shocked," my mother said as she washed the breakfast dishes.
I pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. She had hunkered on the den floor after I'd come, trying to steady her breathing. "You swallowed," I'd observed stupidly.
"Just leave me...leave me alone for a second...Go!"
I grabbed my clothes and left her, her forehead to the rug like she was praying to the devil.
Now, a half hour later, she was doing the dishes and I was eyeing her ass.
"I asked if you were shocked?" she repeated.
"Yeah."
"That your mother's a...a cocksucker."
"...Yeah."
"Did you like it?"
I grunted yeah.
"Your uncle Miles..."
A void of silence ticked away at the words.
"What about him?"
My mother turned and looked at me.
"Your uncle Miles put me on my knees when I was...I won't even tell you how old. Does that shock you?"
I didn't answer. Uncle Miles...fucker was dead before I was born...my mother's older brother. Everyone in her family said how much I looked like him.
"Our parents went out for the evening and my brother...my brother, without saying a word, drug me up to my bedroom and he stripped me naked...I was still a virgin, never had even been kissed by a boy really...he didn't hurt me but he stripped me bare and I...I never said a word."
"Jesus..."
"He was a man, a real man. He wanted me and he took me. He told me to kneel and I knelt. He stripped and...it was the first one I'd ever seen. He told me to suck it."
"And you did..."
"I wasn't very good, understandably," she smiled a bit at some memory. "I gagged and I spit it out. He bent down and stroked my back and told me that next time I had to swallow it."
"And?"
"And the next time, maybe three days later, I did. And yes, I got very good at it."
I shook my head.
"Shocked now?"
"Yeah, I guess."
He wouldn't fuck me, said we couldn't take a chance," she went on...it was the first time I'd ever heard her curse, let alone drop the F-bomb. "So I just sucked him off and I loved it. And I only sucked him. He was the only one, ever."
"My father?"
"Never," she said with a vehement contempt.
My uncle had been killed by a drunk driver a few months before I was born. Eighteen years ago...I instinctively knew she was being honest about fellating only him...'til just an hour ago.
"I took care of him just the day before...the day before, you know. I was seven months pregnant with you and he had me...he came in my mouth right upstairs in our bedroom. I was so big..."
"...Did you like blowing me?"
She swallowed hard. "I loved it. You're like him, a real man. I can't believe that little dough-faced tramp wouldn't suck it for you."
"Will you blow me again?"
"Whenever you want...as often as you want."
I found myself nodding.
"That silly cop referenced your perverse tendencies," she went on, her voice flinty with outrage. "You can't fuck me...I could still get pregnant. But you can take your perverse appetites out on me."
She stepped over and kissed my cheek...one of the few times she'd ever exhibited maternal warmth to me.
"I'm going to take a shower," she said and left me alone in the kitchen.
...perverse tendencies...
I rose and went upstairs...into my parent's bedroom...the shower was running. My mother's clothes were strewn on the floor, very unlike her. I stripped and stepped into the steamy bathroom.
"John?" came her voice from behind the shower curtain.
"Use my middle name," I ordered.
A long pause...I could see her shape through the opaque shroud.
"...Miles," she said softly.
I yanked the curtain wide and joined her under the water.
"You're hard again," she mused appreciatively, soapy palms on my waiting member.
"I can't believe that little tramp wouldn't suck this," my mother whispered with real admiration.
"...She did."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she sucked it. Karen sucked it plenty of times. Not good like you, and she wouldn't let me cum in her mouth, but she'd do it."
"Then what..."
I chucked softly.
"You're wondering what other perverse desires overtook me?"
In the wafts of steam I read her confusion.
I put a hand on her shoulder and firmly turned her so that her back was to me. I slid my hands over her buttocks. I gently mashed her face first into the tile.
"Wait..."
"You said whatever I wanted," I whispered at her ear, soaping my cock...soaping the cleft of her ass.
"No...um...no..."
I pushed myself between her cheeks, felt her panicked flutter as the head of my cock found the pucker of her asshole. I thought of Karen flaying about as I bunched her skirt up around her waist and spread her ass cheeks wide. She'd absolutely freaked...caught me under the eye with an elbow...I grabbed out blindly, and that's when I'd felt the dress rip off her shoulder.
A look a grotesque horror on her sad doughy face as I finally let her slink away from me.
"No..." my mother whined again as I pressed it harder against her hole.
"Shhhh"
I clamped a hand across her mouth and pushed more...I forced it into her with a literal pop. She almost convulsed, shrieked into my palm...no, I didn't hear any "stops" mixed in there, not that I was really listening for 'em. I glanced down and was amazed to see that my cock was fully inside her...she shrieked again, bit hard into my palm...I slid out a few inches and grabbed the bottle of shampoo...I squeezed globs of it down the crack of her butt.
She was breathing in sharp ragged gasps. I started fucking her then, not too hard...not anywhere near as hard as I would've liked...pumping her...her thin electric keening pulsing though my stifling fingers. It was so tight, coarse and gritty on my cock even with the shampoo lube-job.
Then she came...she came out of nowhere with a volcanic shudder...bucking her backside into me with every stroke...I eased my grip on her mouth and freed a rabid string of moans. Her forehead drummed off the tile. She settled as I picked up my tempo and then exploded with another shattering orgasm...her legs went from beneath her...I had to grip her hips so she didn't tumble.
And then I was coming too, releasing my sperm deep within her bowels. It was over in three minutes flat. I roughly pulled myself out and heard a raspy fart as I let her slip down, easing her onto the bathtub floor. Her rectum was a gaping maw, as if she were still being fucked with an invisible penis. I sagged against the wall, ticks of ecstasy still rocking through her prone body. In my innocence, I hadn't imagined that a woman getting sodomized like that could cum, especially not as hard as she'd just cum.
The water rained over her, she finally lifted her head to look at me. I thought there were tears on her face, but couldn't be sure for the spray stinging across her.
She nodded at something, her mouth moved but no words formed.
"Like that, Mother?" I asked.
"Whatever..."
"Whatever?"
"Whatever you want," she groaned weakly. "...A real...a real man..."
"A real man takes what he wants. Whatever he wants," I repeated her words back at her with a sharp nod. "...Whenever I fucking want it."
She managed another vapid nod. Another spasm ravaged her...as if an orgasmic aftershock.
I had never thought of what I was about to do...never imagined it...never fantasized about it.
I reached down and firmly rolled her on her back. I straddled her, my feet planted on each side of her ribcage. I reached out and turned the faucet off.
"Open your mouth," I said in a voice that didn't sound my own.
She wavered, then she nodded again...she seemed to instinctively know...she nodded once more and tentatively parted her lovely lips.
I took hold of my softening cock and very deliberately started to urinate on my own mother's face, a guttural echo as the stream of warm piss at last found her open mouth.
"...You're fuckin' mine," I muttered as much to myself as to her, watching her eyes slowly close to this final act of degradation...her expression a portrait of the purest, most elemental sexual submission I'd ever live to see.