Mom and I Go on Vacation

"Yeah fine, but I mean, I just came. I'm sorry, it's never happened before."

"Do you want to stop?"

Gasping, "Yeah, it's real sensitive."

She got off me, removed the condom, and lay to my side, snuggling up next to me. "It's okay. After what your mouth did for me, I owe you a few." I held her sweaty body in my arms and thought about Mom. I hoped she was having better luck than I.

* * * *

I woke the following morning to Sandy, wearing a tee-shirt and jeans, bouncing onto the bed. She handed me a cup of green tea and a bagel. "Morning. My pussy still feels so good. You've got a talented mouth."

"Thanks." I could feel my dick hardening. I thought, maybe, we could try again.

She must have seen it in my eyes. "No time, gotta run. Meeting with my advisor in half-an-hour. I have a proposal for you. When you get over her, give me a call."

I was confused. "Excuse me."

"When you got to the party last night I saw you with that woman. Couldn't figure out who she was, attractive lady. Could have been a friend, could have been a date. But you kept looking at me so I figured you two weren't together and when you wandered over I figured you were game. But still, you kept looking at her talking to that guy, his name is Bruno by the way, good guy. I thought I saw something in your eyes. Not sure what it was, jealously? When you came so quickly last night, that confirmed it. You're a nice guy, not the cheating kind, so this is what I figure: you two been dating, broke up, and are trying to be friends, so you go to a party together. The problem is you're not over her and so last night when you're with me guilt creeps in and, presto-bango, you come before your time. I got it right?"

I wanted to say hell fricking no, SHE IS MY MOTHER, but said, "Not exactly."

She stood. "Well whatever it is, like I said, when you get over her give me a call."

I dressed, walked her to campus, and returned to the hotel. Mom was not there. The bed had not been slept in. I took a much needed shower.

* * * *

Mom dragged in a couple of hours later. I was going to make a smart ass comment, but she gave me a look, the kind that says don't make a smart ass comment, and headed for the shower. Her shower was long and hot and when she got out she was wearing the same tee-shirt in which she'd gone swimming at Duck Brook Shelter. She said she was tired and needed to lay down. She asked me to hold her. I cradled her in my arms; she fell asleep almost instantly. I got up and went to the living room.

About ninety minutes later I heard Mom stirring in the bedroom. I reved up the coffee maker and stuck my head in the door.

"Hey son, how long have I been asleep?"

"Hour and a half."

"I need some coffee. Be a dear and make me a cup."

"It's already brewing."

"Thanks."

I headed for the kitchen. Mom visited the potty and joined me. When the coffee was ready we sat on the couch in the living room, the sunlight streaming into the room through a large window overlooking Lake Champlain. I was on one end of the couch, Mom on the other; our legs draped across each other.

"Well, how did it go last night?" I asked.

"Do you want to know if your Mom's easy? Did she do it with some guy who picked her up at a party?"

"Well, you should tell the story your own way."

She smirked at me, then said, "Okay, I did. He was actually quite nice, very sweet. We went and got some ice cream. He was tentative, unsure of himself. I'm not sure he's done this before. I said to myself, what the heck, why not. Your Dad hasn't touched me in years, he's been getting it on the side, here I am with this good looking 20-something kid who's eager and ready to go. He wants me, no one will ever know, so I let him know I'm interested. We get back to his place, surprisingly neat and clean - you could learn something from him - and we're kissing and our clothes come off..."

The image of my mother stripping had a weird effect on me. I was angry. How dare this kid touch Mom. I suppressed the thought, the important thing was to listen, to support Mom through her confession.

"... and we head for the bedroom and all of a sudden it all seems wrong. And I can't

figure out why it seems wrong. It's not like I feel like I'm cheating on your father, its not like I feel like I'm corrupting this kid, but still it feels wrong. We start and, and..."

Mom started crying. She slid to my end of the couch and I pulled her into my arms. She buried her head into my chest. I held her, but mixed in with genuine concern was the memory of her swimming in this shirt. I felt the warmth of her body. She cuddled against me; I felt a breast against my arm.

She continued, her voice almost child-like. "Well, he did his best. After he, y'now, tried his fingers, then his mouth, he kept at it, but y'know, it was pretty clear it was not about to happen. I wasn't even excited. Finally I asked him to stop, told him it was me, that it had been a long time, that I was nervous. I got him hard again and used my mouth on him. It used to be that whenever I did that I'd get really excited, but I still felt nothing. After he came he fell asleep; he seemed happy."

She looked out the window. "He was a nice perfectly attractive guy. Heck, I have loads of friends who'd die for a roll in the hay with a hard-bodied twenty year old. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Then she sniffled. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She changed the subject. "How about you. That sure was a pretty girl you were talking to."

"Yeah, real nice too. It's weird, I had an experience kinda like yours. She was great, there was not a thing wrong with her. But..."

Now I stopped, not sure how to say this to my mother, my discomfort plain. Mom filled in the blank.

"Your thing wasn't working?"

"Eventually, after a long time and a lot of attention, it did. Then it lasted about a minute. I mean, that's never happened to me. It's always worked just fine." Then, feeling defensive, I added, "I mean its not like I left her high and dry. I have other skills."

Mom pecked me on the lips. "Other skills are important, sometimes the most important."

She understood. I continued.

"This morning she said the strangest thing. She saw us, you and I, come to the party together, talked about the way we looked at each other. The bottom line: she thought you and I had been a couple, had broken up, but weren't over each other. She attributed my, my performance, or my lack of performance, to that. Told me to give her a call when I got over you."

Mom was quiet awhile. Then she said she was hungry. She went to get dressed.

Over what was either a late lunch or early dinner we did not revisit last night . After eating we walked to the campus, explored the grounds. It was early evening when we came upon the Jeffords Gardens. Mom and I sat on one of the large benches, her back to my chest. We had the place to ourselves.

We said nothing at first, just watched the setting sun. After it disappeared I rubbed her neck and shoulders, kissed the back of her head, told her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, how much I'd miss her. She turned her head and I kissed her cheeks and lips. Then her lips puckered and she returned the kiss. I felt its impact throughout my body; I wanted it to happen again, but wasn't sure how Mom felt.

And then, deliberately and with a peculiar quivering smile that seemed to overspread her whole body, Mom placed her mouth on mine. My arms folded around her and it was not a mother-son kiss, our lips were aggressive and intent. It was a long kiss and when done she drew her head back, as if trying to understand what just happened. She put her strong fingers on my neck through my open collar, closed her eyes, and brought her mouth to mine, giving herself up in a long sweet sexy kiss. I ran my tongue over them and her lips parted, welcoming me inside.

And so Mom and I began smooching. It was like I was back in high school. We were not kissing on the road to something else; we were kissing because kissing was the best thing in the world. Mom's lips were soft and wet and sweet and I loved the feel of her body as she leaned into me. My hand went to the back of her neck and shoulders, hers rested on my arm. Our first kiss was long, the next longer; her lips dueled with mine, her tongue danced with mine; we pulled away, breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes, and began again. I ran my tongue behind Mom's lips, she explored the roof of my mouth. We kissed hard, we kissed soft; Mom nuzzled my ear, I kissed her, lips dry, lightly, all over her face; looping from forehead to temple and back to her mouth.

After while, I'm not sure how long we'd been there, but it was dark and we were alone, Mom said, "'Let's see if I can help you with this, he's working fine today," and her hand was inside my shorts, grasping my throbbing erection.

Mom started frigging my dick. We kept kissing. Mom varied, but steadily increased, the tempo of her hand on my shaft. Then she reached down and palmed my scrotum, four fingers on one side, thumb on the other, and thrust upward. I groaned, I was loud. Mom slowed down, placed an open hand on my chest, calmed me.

"Sweetie, better keep it down."

She kissed me, looked around, saw no one, and grabbed the hem of my shorts, pulling them down, freeing my cock.

She inverted her right hand, thumb pointing down, and took hold of the top of my penis, torquing her palm around my cockhead. Her thumb worked my dick's sensitive underside; she twisted her other hand around my dick's base. She stared at my penis, waiting for me to come. MY MOM WAS STARING AT MY COCK WAITING FOR ME TO COME. It felt insanely good.

I was a balloon ready to burst. "Mom, oh Mom, uuunnnh, uuuuunnnh, Unnhhh, Uunnnnhhhhhhhhhhh, uuuunnnnnnnnnn, uuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," and then I exploded. Cum geysered from my dick, spraying into the air. Mom released my cock and twisted her body, leaning into me, looking into my eyes, smiling broadly.

"How'd I do?"

I answered, "Fantastic," and my gaze drifted to her cheek. There was a smattering of semen there. She noticed my look, used a finger to capture the cream, and brought it to her mouth. We kissed. I pushed my hand inside her shorts, touching her pussy lips. She was wet. I grazed the surface. Mom moaned. She was ready. I slipped one, then two fingers inside her.

Then I heard, "Can I help you kids?"

I pulled up my shorts. Shit, there could be no question as to what had been happening. A man, carrying a flashlight, approached. He was wearing the uniform of the campus police. Mom spoke first.

"Good evening officer."

"Evening ma'am. You a student here."

"I am sir, just starting actually. Just got through orientation."

"Well, ma'am, there's been a lot of complaints about kids well, y'know, doing it around campus. Citizens of this fine city will be walking along and see two students making it in the bushes. We're under strict order to crack down. Dean figures if we arrest a couple of students it'll stop. So if I thought that's what you two were doing, I'd have to arrest you."

My heart stopped beating, my libido was obliterated.

"But that's not what you were doing, was it?"

Mom again. "No officer, we were just sitting in this lovely spot watching the sunset, enjoying the evening. In fact, we were just about to head home. But thank you very much for the information."

With a slight nod of his head he said, "You have a good evening ma'am, sir."

"You too officer."

Mom and I walked back to the hotel. My mind was racing. What just happened? What was wrong with me, this was my mother? Trying to work out my frustration of the night before, I had taken advantage of her, used her own bad experience to my benefit. Last night she had wondered what was wrong with her, felt asexual, and now I was making it worse. "Yeah Mom, at least you make your son horny." Jeez, how could I? I felt ashamed, guilty, I knew I should shut up, but I didn't. When we got back to the room, near tears, I said, "Mom, back there, I apologize, I mean, I'm your son, I shouldn't have. I got carried away. God, I'm sorry."

Mom looked at me, not angry, more disappointed. Then she comforted me. She held my hands and stepped back, "It's okay John, I guess we both did. We had hard times last night. However, son, if you don't mind, since I'm leaving tomorrow, would you hold me again tonight, one last time."

It sounded like she was forgiving me. I knew my face was beaming when I said, "Of course Mom, I'd love too."

I dropped Mom at the airport the following morning, headed to campus, met my roommate, moved into my dorm, started college life.

* * * *

I missed Mom, more than I thought I would. We were in daily contact. If it got me the reputation of something of a Mama's boy, so be it. And although Mom and I never mentioned it, the memory of Jeffords Garden was burned into my memory. The guilt I felt could not stop it's aphrodisiacal effect as, cock in hand, I replayed it in my head when I masturbated. If a girl didn't want to go all the way I was always amenable to a hand job, surrendering to the fantasy that it was mother's fist wrapped around my dick.

At Thanksgiving I was to return home. Mom let me know that Dad was planning the big announcement: they were getting a divorce. Mom met me at the airport. She was wearing a yellow pull over dress. It was short, showing off her legs and body to good effect. We stopped at the grocery store, fixed a light dinner, split a bottle of wine. It was clear Dad had already moved out; the bathrooms were devoid of his things, the closets half empty. After dinner we adjourned to the porch swing. It was getting late.

Then it came up, the 600 pound gorilla, the night in the rose garden.

"John, what happened in the garden, that last night in Burlington, do you ever think about it?"

Yes, I thought, constantly, every fucking day.

"Yes."

"And what do you think?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't tell her the truth, that it might have been the best moment of my life, but that seemed nuts. I could be graphic and tell her I constantly jack off to the memory of it. That seemed a bit crude. Maybe I should I apologize. Maybe I should ask forgiveness. Maybe I should be a coward, not say anything, get on a plane back to Burlington. Indecision and cowardice triumphed; I said nothing.

Mom saw my discomfort. "Would it be easier if I went first?"

Sheepishly, "Yeah."

"I wanted you to make love to me that night."

While her tone was demure, there was absolute certainty in her voice. My response, in contrast, was slow and haltering. "I wanted to, I wasn't sure, I mean, y'know, that cop..."

She put a finger to my lips, shushing me. The she hung her heart out.

"I should have just told you that is what I wanted. Sometimes we girls, we expect guys to just know, like if you really cared for us you'd be able to read our minds. Magical thinking I guess. Tomorrow, at brunch, your Dad is going to announce what you already know, we're getting divorced. Would you make love to me now, tonight?"

Mom would later tell me how frightened she was when she said this, worried that I'd be repulsed, that she'd be humiliated, her heart-broken.

In actuality, I was not sure how I felt. I had accepted the fact that I was attracted to her. I fantasized about her. But now I was facing the reality of making love to her. However, whatever else I felt, I knew I could not say no, could not disappoint her at this moment. I'd figure out what it meant tomorrow.

I lay my arm over her shoulder, leaned forward, kissed her. At first gently, a peck on the lips. Then on the cheeks. Then on the forehead, each eye, her nose, her lips. Mom put her arms around my neck, looked up and smiled. I knew it was going to be okay. Our lips met, I could feel her hot breath. She opened her mouth slightly, surprised me by licking my lips and, when my mouth parted, slipped the tip of her tongue inside. Although I had started unsure of what would happen, I felt the heat. I gave her my tongue, let her play with it. Our kiss continued, we probed each other's mouths and lips. I was light-headed, dizzy. Mom tightened her grip on my head, pulled me to her. On and on we kissed. Mom nuzzled my neck, my ears, my throat. My breath was coming in short gasps. My cock was hard.

I eased from her arms and breathlessly whispered, "Wow, you are some kisser." Mom smiled and our lips joined together. The connection between us seemed palpable and we were kissing deeply, tenderly probing, searching each other's mouths. I was swept up in the carnal taboo. I kissed her neck and when she leaned back, licked and caressed her throat. I ran a hand down her side. She wasn't wearing a bra. I moved my hands to her breasts, cupping them as we kissed. Mom kissed me even harder. I felt her nipples. Mom took my face in her hands and kissed my eyes, nose, lips, neck.

I released her breasts and pulled her close: our tongues met before our lips did. We were kissing with a fiery passion. Panting heavily, Mom kissed all over my neck, and clumsily - her hands were shaking - opened two buttons of my shirt and kissed my shoulders and chest. I ran a hand up her leg, loving the firm hard muscles. Our lips brushed against each other. She continued to unbutton my shirt; her hands felt good on my chest. Then it was all the way open. Mom pushed it off my shoulders; it feel to the floor of the porch.

I whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, that night I was afraid you'd be angry. Like I made you go too far. I haven't been able to get that night, you, out of my mind."

I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips, kissing each finger tip and then, starting at the bottom, kissing up their sides. Returning to her mouth, I licked her lips and commenced a re-exploration: tasting her tongue, her cheeks, her lips - front, top, and back - flicking my tongue in an arc along the roof of her mouth. I was intensely hungry for this woman.

I was trembling; I pulled back. I looked into my mother's eyes; she was so beautiful. I started to kiss her lovely face, left soft gentle kisses across her forehead, on her temple, kissed back down to her mouth. My mother ran her hand down the side of my face.

"Son, maybe, we should go inside."

"I'd like that."

I followed her to the bedroom. She turned to face me, took hold of her dress, and pulled it over her in one motion. She was wearing only yellow panties. For the moment I was unsure of what to do. Mom sensed my hesitation.

"You like?"

"Yes. Mom you're beautiful. That morning on the Long Trail, you went swimming, the tee shirt, when it got wet, I could see, almost all of you. I haven't been able to forget it."

Mom smiled and walked to me, took my hands in hers, kissed my lips, unbuckled my belt, pulled it out, dropped it behind me.

"Its time for bed."

Mom turned and walked to the bed. I watched her butt. She pulled the sheet over herself. I pushed my shoes off with my toes and dropped my pants and underwear to the floor. My penis was erect, swinging free.

"Son, you're gorgeous."

Feeling surprisingly calm, I crawled under the sheets She rolled on to her back and I kissed her. We started slow, but things quickly heated up, months of desire were poured into those kisses. I had intended to be patient, to carefully caress and touch each turn and curve of her body - and her body was so sweet - but she took my hand and placed it on her sex. She was warm and wet, very wet. I slipped my hand under her panties, spread her pussy lips, and rubbed small circles around her clit with my thumb. I slid my thumb down, stroked her vaginal lips, then brought it back to her clit coated with her juice. I resumed the small circles, pressing harder when I slid over the clitoris.

Mom was gasping into my mouth.