Mom and son try again, the Second Time Around

Mom and son try again, the Second Time Around, Not all stories are neat, nor do they all start at the beginning. Mine starts somewhere in the middle when my mother said, “I’ve missed you…I’ve missed the way we used to be.” Yes, every conclusion you might reach about the phrase ‘the way we used to be’ will probably be true, and then some. I had an affair with my mother Daniela. I slept with Daniela. I fucked Daniela. All true.

But that was in the past when I was just starting college and mom was a thirty eight year old woman about to be alone as she had never been. It was bad enough when her husband died and left her with a small child to care for. It was bad enough when there was almost never enough of anything. Anyone who thinks it’s easy to be a single mother, is wrong.

I look back at all that now and it’s as if I’m looking through a gauze curtain. I don’t want to remember how many times we moved, how many schools I went to, and how much we traveled. I hope never to see the inside of a cheap motel room again, even if it was the place where I first had my mother.

I don’t know much, but I’m sure that there’s probably no stronger love than a mother’s love. But our first time together had more to do with sex than it did with love. I know it was that way for me, especially since I was virgin. I mean I’d been around the bases with some girls, but I never slid into home. And that’s what it was for me, in the best possible sense.

My mother asked me to travel with her sometimes because she said that being alone so much was taking a toll on her. I didn’t want to go, but I said okay. We were in the Green mountains and the scenery was gorgeous, even if the room wasn’t. Mom had come back from calling on customers and we sat on one of the beds watching “Leaving Las Vegas,” when she moved close and put her head on my chest. It wasn’t something she often did.

Mom and son try again, the Second Time Around

We were watching TV that way for about five minutes when she put her head in my lap and kissed over my dick. I could have said something; I could done something in the interim before she did it again. What I did was almost hyperventilate, get hard, and feel my head spin. After the third time, when I was sure that it wasn’t an accident or my imagination, I stroked her hair. She sighed. She turned and came up to kiss my lips.

It’s an exaggeration to say her lips were burning, but it felt that way to me. Or maybe it was mine. We didn’t talk as we made out. I took my lead from her because I was afraid of breaking the spell. I didn’t want her to stop. The only initiative I took at first was to put my hand on her breast. It was an almost automatic response to making out. And she had nice, big, breasts. That I had always noticed.

She stripped me to the waist first, and ran her hands over my chest and back as we kissed. She took off her blouse and bra, and I ran my hands over those lovely fleshy globes over and over again, crossing the stiffened nipples as many times as I could. She cupped her tit in offering and I was quick to take it into my mouth. I sucked my mom’s nipple and the first sexual moan I’d ever heard from her crossed her lips. I sucked and suckled as if there was still milk to be had.

She touched herself and fought to remove her skirt she took off her panties and I was stunned into inaction. I looked at her pussy in wonder. I was mesmerized by the folds and the color and the fragrance until I felt her urging my head down. I kissed her belly and moved lower, uncertainly. I was in uncharted waters until mom said, “There, yes…no…yes…higher…YES THERE…yes there, yes…” After a while I understood, and my own intuitive urges took over. My mother’s pussy dripped honey and I love it. I had never done it before, but I loved it.

My cock was like a rock and my mother was saying, “Yes Jessie, yes, God yes…OH,OH,OH…OHHHhhhhh…” Even in my inexperience, I knew that my mother was coming, and I reveled in the sound of my name because I’d never it before in the throes of sexual passion. She said, “Oh Jessie, Oh Jessie, oh Jessie…ohhh…”

When she opened her eyes, she also opened her arms. She beckoned me and said, “Come baby.” I was overwhelmed. She was opening her legs, offering her pussy to me. She was saying I could be inside the place a woman only gives to her lover, the place society tells her never to give to her son. And my mother was about to give it to me.

She was gently holding her knees apart and I could see the moisture on the fine hairs over her pussy. Her stockings were a subtle color, yet when the sheer beige ended in a brownish band around her thighs, it was in stark contrast to her creamy skin. She was smiling, she was not ashamed, not conflicted. My mother wanted her son inside her pussy.

I took my pants off quickly and my hand was practically shaking as I directed the head of my cock to her soft folds. I pressed into my mother’s pussy. I expected it to be warm, but it was hot. I expected it to be wet, but it was soaked. I expected it to be soft, but it was a velvet glove massaging the length of my hard shaft as I pushed in as deep as I could go. And my mother said, “OH…Jess.”

I penetrated in and out of her, doing what I had never expected to be doing, and became the person I now wanted to be, a son making love to his mother. I was in a moment I never wanted to leave, stroking my mother’s wet pussy, listening to her say words only heard in fantasies, “Yes Jessie baby, you’re doing it so good for mommy…so good inside me.”

Her hips were moving to meet my thrusts and she pulled me into her with her hands fastened on my ass. I could feel her body trembling as I drove deep enough to make us one. And with each penetration into her welcoming channel, I fell in love with my mother.

And these are the words that always stay with me. Not because they’re so poetic or beautiful, but because they were the truth of that moment we shared. Mom said, “Jessie, I love you, and I always wanted you like this; as soon as you grew up I stopped wanting anybody else. I always wanted to tell you, to touch you, to have you, like this…like this…like this…” Her words matched our rhythm as a mother and son fucked and made love. At that moment, there was no difference.

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