Going Home

Downstairs, I found Mom stuffing a canvas bag with more canned goods and I told her it was time to go. Leading the way, I emerged cautiously into the early evening of late September. A crowd of locals were standing off a ways -- the doorman with the shotgun nowhere in sight. A scrawny old man with a huge beard stepped forward and said, "Did you really kill Black Tom?" When I briefly nodded, he said, "Well, Little Timmy done hauled ass down the road to some of Black Tom's people over in Tylerville. You might want to be elsewhere before he gets back."

I smiled then and looking at the poor, dirty and hungry faces around me said, "There's food and weapons inside -- help yourself." I barely managed to step out of the way before they rushed the place. I looked to my mother, holding hands with my sister -- a blank expression on her face and smiled. "We need to go, Mom."

#

Lightning flashed illuminating my mother as thunder followed. For a woman who had been forced to march miles with little rest for three days, Mom looked beautiful -- still wearing that tight dress from Black Tom's. A warm front had moved through, bringing rain and we were holed up somewhere in Northern Kentucky in an old campground, using an ancient, but dry cabin for shelter -- grateful to have found a still working fireplace so we could get warm and dry. Pammy was curled up before the fire, sound asleep and I tried real hard not to notice how her shapely body threatened to explode from her dress.

Fortunately, that was easy because I couldn't keep my eyes off of Mom and the way her large breasts seemed to stretch the seams holding her dress together. She was sitting not far from Pammy, an expression of concern on her face. My sister hadn't said a word since the firefight. She ate when given food, drank when given water and walked when told to -- all with a vacant look in her eyes.

We'd had little time for conversation -- fleeing pursuit of Black Tom's cronies, most of which I thought were dead. After the fight, we'd made our way to a river landing where Black Tom kept a little flotilla of boats -- a motley collection of small boats with outboard motors, a speedboat and an ancient looking pontoon boat. We took the speedboat after using my rifle to wreck the rest of the little fleet and moved upriver towards what Mom said was the only passable bridge within sixty miles. There I'd booby trapped the bridge using some of Gantry's toys..

The bridge was an old railroad bridge looking surprisingly solid, but littered with the wreckage of box cars abandoned on the tracks. I set up several mines -- both pressure mines and trip wired and made my way back to the boat and on across the river where I holed the hull of the speedboat and we made our way up the southern bluffs overlooking the river.

A few hours later, as Mom and Pammy rested, a large group appeared at the bridge on the Indiana side, arriving in a smoking hulk of an old school bus. Through binoculars I watched as a nasty looking and heavily armed group of maybe fifty men began to wind their way across the bridge. One stepped on a pressure mine and blew three off the bridge. The others panicked and one must have tripped the ambush wire -- hooked into a pound of C-19 and a sixty foot section of the bridge pretty much vaporized along with the entire band of raiders, the explosion rocking me back on my heels nearly a mile away and echoing up and down the river as debris and body parts fell into the water.

Just to be sure we'd gotten safely away, I'd hard marched Mom and Pammy on for another day -- saying little as I scanned Commander Vance's old map and an old Road Atlas I'd found in the wreckage of a supermarket somewhere in Minnesota -- going South and East. Late this last afternoon, I could see the storm clouds building up to the west and followed the barely legible signs that once had directed tourists to a cheesy old campground and this old cabin.

"Is she...do you think she'll be alright, Mom?" I asked Mom as I got up to feed the fire with some old seasoned logs I'd found in a wood box outside.

Mom didn't answer for a long time -- her eyes studying Pammy's sleeping form. "I don't know...I doubt she's been right since your father was killed and Black Tom took us." Mom shivered and hugged herself tight, inadvertently offering me a brilliant display of her cleavage. "I didn't see her for nearly six months after...after. I know Black Tom did things -- fucked with her head and her body I guess and when he finally brought her down from his place, she was like...his complete and utter slut." Mom sighed. "No, she's not right -- I reckon neither of us is right." Mom looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "I guess nothing is right anymore."

I knelt at Mom's feet and reached up and took her hands in mine. "We're back together, Mom -- we're family again. Things will get better."

Mom stared down at me for a long time, tears making tracks down her begrimed face. She finally looked up towards the ragged ceiling and blew out air -- her face reddening. "Not exactly the same is it?" She looked down again, staring at our joined hands in her lap. "Guess you never thought you'd see your old mom acting like I did, did you, son? Never imagined our reunion would start with Mom sucking your big peter?"

I felt myself blushing as I shrugged my shoulders and said, "It couldn't be helped...things can be better now -- you're done with that place and all that happened."

Mom blinked her eyes and looked away again, unable to look me in the eye as she replied, "Maybe, but what happened isn't done with me, John."

What do you mean, Mom?"

Still avoiding my gaze, Mom said, "These last years have been bad in many ways, son, but in some ways, I've been more alive than ever before." She paused and licked her lips and then she turned her eyes to look me in the face and I was almost bowed over by the sheer intensity of her gaze.

"When Black Tom and his men shot your father, I about died...I would have been happy if they'd have shot me dead on the spot too. But, Black Tom gave me to his men and they put me on our old oak dining room table and fucked me and fucked me -- raping me...at least at first, taking turns sticking their dicks in me while the others held my arms and kept my legs spread wide."

Mom's face was now beet red as she swallowed and continued, "I loved your father and I never cheated on him, but his idea of lovemaking was two or three times a month and even then it was 'Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am,' and I doubt I ever had more than a dozen orgasms with Joe in all the years we were married, but I did fantasize about sex -- I used to imagine big cocks making me scream for hours and hours..."

Mom took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her nipples, already hard from the night air grew visibly larger as she spoke. "I mean no disrespect to your father, but by the time Black Tom's men finished with me, I'd lost count how many times I'd cum and as sore and crazy as I was, I wanted more. All those nasty men on top of me, their cocks filling me up with hot cum and making me moan like a common whore -- God help me, but I loved it!. When they were done, I cried for more and son, they laughed at me and then they did oblige me and Black Tom said 'I'd get along fine -- that he wished he could find more cock hungry sluts like me."

She glanced over at Pammy lying asleep in front of the fire. "I used to tell myself I did it because it gave me a chance to stay near Pammy, but the truth is, I loved being a slut whore for Black Tom. I doubt a day's gone by these last years that I didn't have several cocks in me or fall asleep with men's seed dripping out of me. I reveled in being the best whore on Black Tom's string -- one man at a time or two, or even three. I was never happier than when I was being fucked."

Mom's hands tightened around mine. "Even right now I'm missing all that cock I got everyday. Right now, I'm getting wet remembering sucking your cock, son and thinking how good that lump in your pants felt against my pussy."

"Mom...I..." My mouth was dry and I was at a total loss for words. I tried to reconcile the mother I remembered...the mother who dressed conservatively and taught little ones in Sunday School, who'd been so prim and proper with the mother sitting before me...the mother I'd seen fucking and sucking men like a wanton whore and who'd so eagerly it seemed, had sucked my cock only a few minutes after we'd been reunited.

"Son, I need to be fucked. I need to be fucked by you. I don't care that you're my son...I think it makes me want it more. I know you must think I'm awful...just a cumslut whore, but I want you, John. Please..." Mom whispered, her hands pressing my hands against her lap, spreading her legs slightly and hunching her hips upward.

As she opened her legs, her already short dress was dragged upwards towards her waist and her thick, hairy pussy was revealed -- sure enough, her labia had flowered and I could see a wide expanse of glistening, pink flesh. I suddenly smelled her pussy -- wet and aroused and with a sudden growl, I thrust my face into Mom's hot cunt, marveling at the heat of her flesh as I mashed my head between her thighs, my mouth open and tongue spearing her sopping wet pussy flesh.

Mom let out a plaintive cry as she threw her legs over my shoulders and flexed her hips up, tightening her thighs to hold my face captive against her sodden, hairy pussy. My head swam like I was drunk as I inhaled her strong scent -- spurring my incestuous lust on as I began licking her pussy like a dog dying of thirst, rolling my tongue up and down her quivering, glistening flesh, lapping her juices and smearing them over my sparsely bearded face.

Mom moaned, hunching her groin against my face as I looked up at her while my tongue swirled around her wet box. I gazed in wonder at the woman that was both my mother and a crazed slut, her hands squeezing her breasts and then jerking her summer dress over her head so she could get better access to her swollen nipples, lifting one heavy breast up so she could tongue her own engorged nub.

Suddenly we were atop my old and worn sleeping bag, kissing feverishly -- Mom's tongue slathering over my pussy juice drenched face while she was tearing at my clothes. Her hands found my cock, then her lips were on me, reminding me of how well my mother could suck cock, her tongue an insane dervish of warm, moist flesh and then Mom was straddling me, her need intent on her face. "Fuck me, John," Mom sobbed. "I need your big cock!"

I could feel the intense heat of her sodden pussy long before her pussy lips kissed the head of my erect and throbbing penis and I groaned, "I love you, Mom!" as she slowly lowered herself onto me -- her lips sneering with carnal bliss as she impaled herself on her son's long, hard cock. Mom let out a strange, happy crooning noise I'd never heard from a woman before -- a sound that was both the epitome of carnality and of happiness.

Squatting over me, hands on my chest and leaning slightly forward so her large, meaty breasts dragged over my sweaty skin, Mom began to bounce on my dick, torturously fucking me as she contracted her cunt muscles, her cunt flesh clinging stubbornly to my shaft as she fucked me. "I love cock!" Mom cried out as she took all of me into her, squirming with delight as my cock was buried in her womb.

Mom suddenly stiffened and I felt a hot flood of her creams bathe my cock as she rose up on me, her body stiffening as she bit her lower lip -- orgasmic pleasure sweeping her away, her leg muscles bulging dangerously as a spasm of pleasure tore through her and taking my breath away as I witnessed for the first time an expression of sheer carnal delight on my mother's face...her breasts quaking as she shuddered from the joy of having her son's cock filling her womb.

Mom collapsed on top of me and I rolled us over and while Mom moaned in approval, I draped her legs over my shoulders and began to fuck her like a man gone mad. I gave her no respite from her orgasm, sending her crashing headlong into another as I brutally rammed my cock into her sweet furnace of a pussy again and again.

Mom whipped her head back and forth -- her wild and tangled mane of hair concealing her face until I reached out and smoothed her hair back, not willing to lose sight of my mother's expressions of incestuous bliss while she grunted and moaned with each hard thrust of my cock into her motherly cunt. Mom's breasts bounced wildly over her chest, nipples so swollen, they resembled overripe cherries that would burst if bitten.

I thrust hard, stretching to kiss Mom and curling her up into a ball of aroused woman as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, delighted when she feverishly sucked it as she had sucked my cock before. Mom's brilliant blue eyes were wide with excitement and love as I buried my stiff penis into her silky and steaming flesh again and again.

Her ragged nails clawed against my shoulders and arms as her pleasure grew and grew and then she bucked hard up into me, meeting my downward thrust and a gave a muffled squeal against my lips as she came again, cunt clamping hard around my cock and doing things I never imagined a woman could control with her pussy -- milking me -- conveying her need for my hot sperm to take her all the way to heaven.

I went deep into her tightening womb and sobbed, "I love you!" as my cock jerked in her satiny grasp and began flooding her pussy with hot semen. I came and came and came as if I had been saving it for years -- filling Mom up with my seed -- cumming so hard, it almost hurt as it shot from my cock. I felt pleasure as I had never felt it before -- knowing it was my mother's pussy I was deep inside simply making it all the more sweet.

Mom's legs fell off my shoulders as I collapsed on top of her, still buried inside her to the root, her heaving breasts like soft pillows that I could rest my weary head on while she sighed and moaned in the lovely aftermath of our lovemaking. It was a few minutes before I realized that Mom was holding me with just one arm, fingers slowly tracing little circles on my back.

I turned to look at her and saw her other arm extended off to my right -- her hand locked around Pammy's hand. My sister was looking at us both, a huge, happy smile on her face -- her eyes shiny with excitement. Her other arm was was between her thighs, slightly moving and I realized that Pammy was rubbing her own pussy. I felt Mom move slightly and knew we were both looking at my little sister. Both embarrassment and amazement washed over me as I realized that Pammy had watched her brother and mother fuck like wild animals and from her expression, had enjoyed it greatly.

I'm not sure how long we all three simply stared at each other before my sister's face scrunched up in an expression of orgasmic release, her body stiffening under the coat. Pammy finally let Mom's hand go and with a contended sigh, rolled over and went back to sleep.

I looked upwards at Mom, using my arms to raise up a bit so that we were face to face. Mom smiled at me. "I think that's a good sign, don't you think?"

I grinned and said, "I just fucked my mother -- pretty hard to think beyond that, Mom."

Mom nodded, her legs shakily coming to drape over the back of my legs as if preparing to trap me between her thighs if I was having second thoughts. "Are you sorry, John?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "No...just can't believe I've just made a teenage fantasy a reality. You wouldn't believe how many times I masturbated thinking about this before I left home."

Mom raised her head and gave me a gentle kiss before she said, "I suppose I sort of knew how you felt -- we were almost a couple even when you were a kid and I used to daydream about you when I would find all your cum stained shorts and towels." Mom stretched herself under me like a big, lazy cat sunning herself -- her hard nipples dragging across my chest as her meaty breasts rolled. "Maybe this was all meant to be -- everything I've done -- that happened was to prepare me to be able to love you...to be able and willing to spread my legs and fuck my son."

Mom got a funny look in her eyes and somehow I knew the words that were coming -- words I'd heard many times as a child when she would shake her head while watching the news and the awful things going on all over. In a quiet voice, Mom said, "God's will."

We both went silent for a moment and then I nodded, "Maybe, Mom, maybe. God's will or not, I have you now. I crossed through hell for you and I'm not about to let you go now."

Mom nodded and said, "Black Tom took me away from your father and you took me from Black Tom. You're my man now." Mom flexed her cunt muscles around my semi-hard cock and whispered, "I belong to you now, son."

I'm not sure why, but Mom's words aroused me and I felt my cock begin to harden again -- Mom groaning happily as I swelled inside her. We began to fuck again -- this time more slowly and gently -- making love as the storm raged outside -- oblivious to the savage world's many dangers, feeling, at least for the moment, safe in each other's arms.

In the morning, Pammy had reverted to her almost catatonic state, although I felt she seemed to be a little more aware -- sometimes catching her watching me after we broke camp and moved out. We moved steadily east now, sticking to secondary roads, making relatively good time across the mostly flat lands of the bluegrass of Northern Kentucky. Each night we would find an abandoned house to shelter in and Mom and I would make love after Pammy would at least pretend to go to sleep.

Most nights however as I fucked Mom, relishing her lush body underneath me, savoring the feel of my cock deep inside her making her heart pound, Pammy would roll over and watch Mom and I together, a lewd smile coming over her face as she stared at her brother fucking her mother, eventually extending an arm out to take Mom's hand and holding tightly onto it as Mom and I would work our way to orgasm.

Usually, Pammy would begin to masturbate as well, sometimes blatantly, her covers kicked off and her hand squirming madly around her pussy which slowly was becoming covered with a soft downy blonde muff. It many ways it was as if she was participating in our incestuous lovemaking and I guess in her own way, she was.

As we approached the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, in the middle of nowhere, we found an ancient hunting supply and general store that looked like it had been around since the early twentieth century. I was shocked to find it was completely intact -- its goods never plundered. Inside, we were able to outfit Mom and Pammy in some jeans and flannel shirts and some decent hiking boots. Even better were cold weather coats that fit them both. We found some lightweight but insulated sleeping bags and a nylon tent that when rolled up only seemed to weigh a little over a pound.

Mom and Pammy both found their new clothes a little difficult to get used to and Pammy emerged slightly from her catatonic state to whine unhappily at having such heavy clothing on her body, but as October overtook us, the weather was beginning to cool rapidly and the nights were getting chillier. Still, as Mom observed, "Honest to God, I don't think I've had clothes on more than five or six times -- this will take some getting used to." Black Tom had treated them as little better than animals -- when they did accompany him in public, they had been naked except for perhaps shoes and the leash and collar they had been led around with.

The going was slower now, all roads seemed to be mostly uphill, but Mom and my sister were getting used to walking -- Mom even seemed to have shed a bit of weight -- doing nothing but enhancing her mature beauty. I can still recall Mom taking a shower under a small waterfall, shivering from the cold water, but looking magnificent in all her naked glory, black and gray hair wet and slicked back from her face -- water running off her huge, sloping breasts -- nipples swollen in the chill water and her stomach -- still with a small pooch of a woman in her early middle years, but sexy in a way that only a mature woman can be and her wild and unruly thatch of black pubic hair nestled between thighs that had toned up with the many miles of hiking from the last few weeks.