“Mom, you better stop sucking now. I’m almost there and I don’t think it would be right to come in your mouth.”
“I really don’t mind, dear. I like the taste of come, and it would be interesting to compare yours to your father’s.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about it, Mom. Maybe you could finish me off with your hand.”
“I have a better idea. How about a nice tit job. Your father begged for them.”
After dribbling spit onto the insides of her big, freckled tits, Mom molded them around my twitching cock and began to masturbate me with them. With her hands underneath and her thumbs over the nipples, she raised and lowered them onto my shaft. All the while, she smiled up at me as she tried to gauge how far along I was. Her skin was as soft as silk, her flesh as warm as a bun fresh out of the oven. When I started to go over the edge, the urge to fuck overcame me and I began to pump into the fleshy tunnel. With flawless timing, Mom dropped her head and captured my pulsating cock in her mouth just as I shot my load. She choked on the first spurt, but quickly regained control and finished me off like a pro. When the jets of semen stopped, she took deep, hard gulps to squeeze out every drop left in the pipeline. The hard sucks induced a mini-orgasm similar to an aftershock following an earthquake. Mom moaned her appreciation as I treated her to three bonus spurts.
Perhaps you are wondering how my mother happened to be on her knees between my legs giving me a blow job. It all came about because of an arcane philosophical theory called synchronicity. Carl Jung, a pioneer in the field of psychology, developed the theory based on his observations. Synchronicity is the occurrence of two similar events so close together in time that it defies probability. The events themselves are usually trivial. For example, my car and my wife’s car broke down on the same day for the same reason. Impossible, yet it happened. Another good example of synchronicity is my divorce and my mother’s divorce on the same day. I remember how shocked I was when I called my parents to give them my bad news and heard my mother say, “Isn’t that a coincidence! I just divorced your father.” It was synchronicity, not coincidence.
After my parents’ divided the property, Mom didn’t have much to live on. They had very little equity in their property and they hadn’t bothered to save much. Mom didn’t have any skills or higher education, so it wasn’t surprising that she couldn’t find a job.
My marriage had been going downhill for years. Ending it was like shooting an injured horse to put it out of its misery. Even though my wife and I had been at each other’s throats most of the time, I missed having a woman around. Both of our problems were solved when Mom accepted my invitation and moved in with me.
I was sure that our arrangement was temporary and would end as soon as she found a new husband. She had beauty and charm, so I expected her to find someone quickly. In the meantime, I loved having her around. She was witty and articulate, and, even though she lacked a higher education, she was well-informed and could discuss a variety of subjects. She was a breath of fresh air after years with a bitter, sullen woman.
Mom went out looking for work every day and soon found a job as a waitress. It only lasted until her first paycheck. Although she was very pretty to look at in her Bavarian peasant-girl uniform, she wasn’t a very good waitress. Mom eventually gave up on finding a job and that suited me fine. I always came home at the end of the day to a spotless apartment and a gourmet meal. I began to think of her as my wife rather than my mother.
I suppose I should have tried to maintain the status quo. Mom and I were both happy and, as they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But I did want Mom to find a man for her own welfare. That beautiful, healthy woman was going to waste. I suppose another reason that I wanted her out was because I felt intense guilt when I had carnal thoughts about her. She dressed so sexy that it was hard not to have those thoughts. I even jacked off while listening to her masturbate through the wall of her bedroom. Shameless!
I introduced Mom to almost all of the older men that I knew. She dated many of them, but always found something wrong with them. They were too stingy or boring, or they only wanted sex. I finally fixed her up with my wealthy boss, the most eligible bachelor in town. The suave, debonair bachelor was the perfect partner for my beautiful mother.
I laid in bed one night stroking my cock and wondering how Mom’s date with my boss was going. She was out late, a very good sign. I tried to picture my boss and my mother fucking and managed to conjure up a pretty good image. I was so intent on my thoughts that I did not hear the car pull up in front or the front door open. It took all of my concentration to hold the image in my mind. I didn’t even hear my mother walk through the open door of my room.
“That son-of-a-bitch you fixed me up with couldn’t even hold it back a minute. He left me high and dry and you are going to have to finish the job. I know you want this as much as I do.”
Mom straddled me and lowered herself onto my cock. My rigid rod slid into the very canal from which I had emerged thirty years earlier. It was tight, slick and creamy. Her pussy could not have produced so much sex juice. My boss had obviously not worn a rubber when he fucked her and now I was enjoying sloppy seconds for the first time in my life.
I was physically and mentally paralyzed. My conscience occasionally managed to get through to me but I ignored its messages. I knew it was wrong for a man to fuck his mother, but I was so horny and it felt so good. My wife and I had stopped having sex long before the end of our marriage, so I hadn’t had a soft, warm woman against me in a long time.
As Mom bent forward above me, I smelled whiskey on her breath. When she spoke, her speech was slurred. “Thank God for Jim Beam,” I thought. Her big, pear-shaped tits swung North to South as she posted on my cock. My lust finally broke me out of my catatonic state. I captured both bouncing tits in my hands and stuffed a swollen nipple into my mouth. Mom became hysterical.
“Oh, yes, it feels so good to fuck again. How I love to fuck. Suck on my boobs. It’s been years since you had your mouth on them. Fuck me with your big hard cock. Make up for all the pain I suffered when I had you.”
I let Mom do all of the work for the first five minutes or so, then I clamped my hands on her ass, bent my legs to give me leverage, and began pumping up into her. Each thrust pulled more of my boss’s cream out of her to run down over my balls. Mom’s pussy got even slicker and sporadic Kegel spasms squeezed my cock. The only outward sign of her first orgasm was her heavy breathing. She was panting like a dog on a hot summer day.
In a rapid-fire whisper, she confirmed what I already knew. “Oh, that was a nice one. It’s so much nicer coming on a cock instead of a vibrator. I want some more like that. Don’t you dare stop.”
“I think I can do a better job if you are on your back, Mom.” She rolled to the side and spread her legs. Up until then, she was the only one truly guilty of incest. She had mounted me and fucked me, but what I was about to do would make me as guilty as her. By then, the messages from my conscience ceased as though the line connecting it to my consciousness had been severed. My cock was doing all of my thinking for me. There was a beautiful woman lying naked in front of me begging to be fucked, and I had to do my duty. I drove my cock into her so forcefully that her warm, whiskey breath gushed from her mouth.
As Mom’s pelvis rose to meet my downward thrusts, the sound of our bellies slapping together echoed off of the walls. We were fucking like two animals, without any affection, motivated entirely by our hunger for sex. Mom was having one orgasm after another. “OH, MY GOD, I’VE NEVER HAD THIS MANY AT ONE TIME!” she shouted. Then she went limp beneath me. I shamelessly continued fucking her limp body for several more minutes until I shot my load into her pussy.
As I rolled to the side, I felt as though I had just run a marathon. When I began thinking rationally again, I panicked at the thought that I might have made her pregnant. I had to splash cold water in her face to bring her around.
“Mom, I shot off inside of you. Are you on birth control?”
“Yes, don’t worry. I’m on the pill. Now come back to bed.”
She woke me in the middle of the night and we fucked again. A year has passed since that night and I don’t think a single day has passed without sex of some kind. I stopped pushing her to find a man, and I don’t care that she doesn’t have a job. She pays for her keep with the best sex that I have ever had.