Mom and I Go on Vacation

I and caught her clit between my teeth. Mom yelped. I moved my mouth back down to her cunt hole. She was leaking juice. I licked her pussy, nectar flowed into my mouth like a small stream. Mom's chest heaved with heavy breaths.

I licked the opening of her cunt, licked the warm inner flesh, licked the folds and crevices of her labia. I captured the labial lips between my teeth. Mom was delicious and I became ravenous, gorging myself, feeding on her cunt like it was ambrosia. Her fluids stained my face; her sweet musk soaked into my skin and flowed into my nose. I flattened out my tongue and took decadent slow laps from the bottom of her pussy, over every curve, to her clit. Mom was wonderfully responsive; feline in her motion. I adored the soft moans when I licked sensitive spots and the sharp groans when I furiously flicked her clit.

She was getting close. She twisted, pulled on the ties, let out a series of high pitched hoots. I backed off, seeking to draw out the experience, returning to slow gentle licks over the face of her vagina, then dipping my tongue into her puddle of pussy juice. I walked my hand to her breast, covered the flesh, loving the feel of her thick hard nipple.

"Oh fuck son, so good."

Her pussy was on fire. I ran my tongue over every fold, into every crevice. Mom clenched her fists, tightened her legs, yanked against the restraints. I rolled her nipples between my fingers while lashing her swollen clit with my tongue.

Mom was delirious. She howled, "Oh my goodness son, you're going to make me come. I'm gonna come."

She ground her pelvis into my face.

Then I stopped.

Her eyes flew open. "What are you doing?"

I ran my hand to the other breast, pinching the nipple.

"Trust me," I said.

Mom smirked, looked at the ties, and said, "Do I have a choice?" She closed her eyes. I nudged two fingers inside her; fluid leaked out. I pushed deeper. She squealed.

I returned my mouth to her clitoris while pumping my fingers in and out of her. Her pussy walls clenched, she rocked her hips.

"Oh son, I love it, it feels so good."

I groaned into her, sending vibrations down to her toes. She shuddered with every flick of my tongue, then gasped, her eyelids fluttered, her cunt gripped my fingers. I was important, powerful. I was the one who'd push her up the mountain to the ecstasy at its peak.

I curled my fingers inside her, located the g-spot, and dragged my fingertips along her pussy walls, scraping the flesh. Mom squealed and shuddered. No one would ever be this patient and careful, no one would ever make love to her with my passion and devotion. I had been born of this woman for this purpose, to be her lover.

Mom whimpered, "I can't take it anymore." Her muscles tensed and trembled.

She was wrong. She could.

I pulled back. Mom gasped, squirmed, tried to regain contact. I blew cool air over her pussy and then, ever so lightly, kissed her womanhood. When my lips reached her clit she could control her anxiety no longer.

"Please, please, please, make me come."

Other than to continue my kisses I didn't answer. Mom's face was crimson with need; her chest heaved. I slipped my tongue in her fuck slit, flicked the folds. I nibbled her pussy lips, sucking air in though my nose. Her scent was divine.

I returned to her pussy lips and Mom raised her ass, pushing against my slow studious tongue. Every nerve in her body was lit up, inflamed. Her nipples were swollen. Still I said nothing.

Mom pled, "Please, please, I'm begging you."

I returned my hand to her breast. She winced; her nipples so hard and needy that my touch had bordered on the painful. I buried my face in her sex, smearing her nectar into my skin. Mom moaned, grateful when my tongue returned to her pulsating clitoris. I drew circles around it; I lapped across it; I crammed three fingers into her cunt.

Mom had been reduced to the core of her carnality. She howled, "Oh goodness, thank you," pulled against the ties binding her to the bed, reveling in the feeling of helplessness. She whimpered with every flick of my tongue, every pump of my hand. Her body jerked, her breaths shallow and rapid.

"Please, oh god, this time please make me come. I've gotta come. I can't handle it anymore. I need to come!"

She writhed and quivered. She arched her back; she rubbed her head into the pillow; her toes clenched and released. I didn't stop. I pushed my fingers into her, then dug them out. I pressed my knuckles to her pubic bone. I sucked her clit into my mouth, pummeled it with my tongue, gorged myself on it. I caught a nipple with my fingers. Her face was flush; her lips quivered; sheer desire consumed her.

Then it came. Her cunt convulsed around my fingers; her hips bucked against my face. I sucked hard on her clit, continuing as an orgasm washed over her, slamming her to the ground. She shouted, in a voice shrill and intense, "You're so good to me, you've always have been, I love you, yes, oh fucking yessssssssssssssssssssssssssss. OHMIGOD SO, SO GOOD SON, FFFUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK, CCCOOOOOMMMMINNNNGGGGGGGG!"

She was bucking so hard I couldn't keep her clit in my mouth. I pulled back, holding a tit with one hand, finger fucking her with the other. Juice gushed around my fingers. She twisted and turned, bit down on her lip, filled the room with obscene animal moans as she rode the waves of orgasmic bliss. I grinned. I loved watching her quake and quiver in tremors of delight.

Mom gradually calmed down, took short breaths, tried to recalibrate after the hurricane that had whirled through her. I was quiet, knowing I was the one who'd done this for her, that only I could offer her this kind of serene pleasure. For reasons unclear, my mother was my soul-mate, I hers.

Mom finally opened her eyes. A smile illuminated her face. "Hey." She took another breath. "I never knew it could be like this."

"Hey beautiful." I touched her hip. "You enjoy yourself?"

"Oh yes. Very much. Unbelievable. You like eating pussy? I hope so, I'm gonna want to do this a whole bunch. Enjoy myself? That would be a yes. A big yes."

She noticed the juice smeared on my face.

"I made you mess."

"Yes, you did. And yes, I loved eating your pussy. You're gonna make my face a mess a lot."

Mom looked at the foot of the bed, then to my penis. "Could you untie my legs? Then, fuck me?"

I slid to the foot of the bed and did so. My cock, which had partially deflated, returned to full staff. Mom licked her lips.

"Son, it's time to take what yours. There's a condom in the top dresser drawer."

I slipped it on, crawled onto the bed. Mom spread her legs. I straddled her, positioned my dick at the entrance to her sex.

"I love you Mom."

"I love you." Then she stopped.

"Are you okay?'

She looked like she might cry.

"It's just that, until now, I didn't know what that word meant. I'm being silly. I love you son. Now before I start wailing, fuck me, fuck me hard."

She was wet and hot and welcoming and her pussy was made for my cock. And then I was fully buried inside her. Mom squealed, pulled on the ties binding her arms, raised her head, dropped it back to the pillow. She moved her ankles so they were on top of mine.

At first I just lay there, getting used to being inside her. Then I said, "Mom, you're so tight, so soft."

"Son, I love the way you feel inside me. You fill me perfectly."

I moved forward, got on my knees. Mom pulled her knees back towards her chest. I moved her feet to my shoulders. In this position I could look into her eyes and my hands had easy access to her body, and her clit. I thrust, starting slowly, but picked up the pace, fucking her deep and hard. Mom matched her movements to mine; we were a song sung in harmony. Her cunt walls sucked me inside, as if begging for more, as if her body wanted to absorb me. Mom moaned, rolled her hips. I varied my motion, shifting from left to right, up and down, side to side, wanting to visit every corner of her slick soft sweet interior flesh.

Mom grabbed the bed rail and pushed back into me.

"Mom, I love you."

"Son, I love you too. I belong to you, now and forever. I'm your mother, your lover, your sweet lady, but I'm also your fuck-mate, your slut, your whore, the place you put your cock, leave your cum, your what-ever-you-desire. I want to be all those things, to be everything you want."

My cock twitched; my cum boiled in my balls. I couldn't believe my sweet mother was talking like this. I thrust into her hard, like an animal. Her tits bounced on her chest; the walls of her cunt enveloped me with silky fiery heat.

Mom continued the barrage of words. "I'm your whore, your mother, your lady-love, your slut. I'm whatever-you-want-me-to-be, any fantasy, any dream, no matter how filthy, how sick, I'm it."

Reaching for her shoulders, using them as leverage, I pushed into her, banging into her cervix, approaching the place I'd been conceived. Mom squealed, held tight to the headboard, shoved herself into me.

"I'm fuck flesh. Your fuck flesh."

"Are you my good girl?"

"Good girl, fuck no. Best girl, only girl, nasty girl, bad girl, fuck girl."

Hips rocking, fluids merging, bodies banging into each other, I held on for dear life.

"I live for your pleasure. I'm yours, forever. Fuck me, fuck your wicked, nasty, filthy, whore mother."

We were covered with sweat; the air was sticky and hot; the bedroom reeked of sex. Mom had spent twenty years with a man who made love at night, with the lights off; she had a whole lot of catching up to do. She wanted to feel cherished and loved, but she also wanted someone who lusted for her, craved her, obsessed about her. She wanted someone to ram into her with all his strength. She wanted my hands rough, grabbing her, taking what I needed.

"I'm your nasty girl. You love me because I'm sweet and fun and funny and because I'm a slut for you and you alone."

I let go of her shoulders. One hand clumsily groped her breasts, kneading the flesh, tugging, twisting her nipples. The other hand found her clit, moving in firm circles.

"Fuck yes, that's what I am," she wailed. "Your fuck-princess."

My hands were everywhere, molesting, touching, caressing, while I drove my erection into her. I dug my nails into her hips, pulled her hard to me. I pounded her, her body bounced on the bed. The bed creaked. Mom was unstoppable, driving her sweet cunt over my cock, gasping each time we slammed together.

"Are you ready, ready for your son's cum?"

"Oh god yes, give it to me. I need it. I want it. Fucking give it to me. I have to have your cum. Drown me in it."

Mom flexed the muscles buried deep in her cunt.

"Give it to me, fuck your Mama. Fuck me like your slut, love me like your queen."

"My god Mom, I love you."

She wrapped her legs around my waist and yanked me into her.

"Fill Mama with your sperm. I want it so fucking bad. Please, oh please, I need it."

I lunged forward, buried myself in her. My abdomen tensed: I growled; my cock erupted; intense joy flooded by body. My balls emptied inside her and her cunt clamped down. Then she screamed, consumed by her own orgasm. Her body torqued and twisted and her mind was swept away, taken somewhere else, where it floated in the warm glow of sexual ecstasy. She was, for the moment, unconscious of everything, even her own moans, except for the perfect pleasure vibrating through her.

I stayed deep within her, letting our juices blend together. She drifted back to consciousness. I watched, loving the look on her face, and then her lips moved. I bent my ear to her mouth. She whispered, "I love you."

I sat back on my knees, withdrew, let our mix drip from her cunt to her, now our, bed. I missed being inside her.

I lay next to her and said, "I love you." She kissed my cheek. I untied her wrists, kissed her face

That was Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. We stayed in all day Friday and Saturday. We made love tenderly and hard, we made love standing, sitting, lying down, we made love in every room in the house, we were sore but made love anyway. We got up early Sunday and on our way to the airport stopped at our favorite spot at the Wright Environmental Education Center, a beautiful glen by the river. I rolled off her, satiated, and peeled off my condom. Mom said, "I made an appointment to see Dr. Agaston about birth control."

"Are you sure. I'm happy to use these things."

"I'm sure. I'm going to miss you."

"Well, I've been thinking. I could transfer to Georgia State. We could be together."

Mom was a step ahead of me. "I've been thinking too and this is what I think. Ever since our trip I've been looking for jobs in Vermont. A position came open last week in the Department of Forests, Parks and Recreation. I'm perfect for it. I want to apply. If I get it we could be together. I could go the university part-time, get my Masters in Plant and Soil Science."

Mom, using her maiden name, got the interview and when Mom got the interview, she got the job. She moved to Burlington in January. Yeah, it was cold. My roommate saw little of me second semester. He was happy; his girlfriend moved into our room.

The divorce became final during the summer. Not unexpectedly, Ms. D'Angelo sold the bank and moved to California, where Dad knew no one and she'd have him all to herself. Over the years my occasional visits were short and unpleasant. Ms. D'Angelo had a way of making one feel unwelcome. I saw Dad once or twice a year. He showed only a passing interest in my life.

* * * *

I had told Mom about studying her body when she went swimming at the Duck Brook Shelter. During my sophomore year we decided to return there in the middle of the week, when no one would be around. We'd skinny dip, make love in and by the water.

We arrived late in the afternoon. A family, three children and their parents, were in the water, laughing, splashing, cavorting. Mom and I sat on a rock and watched. I took her hand in mine, she lay her head on my shoulder.

I said, "Well, not that I'm glad there here, but its hard to build up too much resentment when you see kids having so much fun."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

That night the seven of us shared a campfire and meal. They were real nice people and excellent cooks. The children were boisterous, bright, engaging. Despite our aborted plan, Mom seemed delighted by their presence and they took to Mom, playing with her, laughing until their bellies hurt. When Mom and I crawled into our tent, cuddling together, she said, "They're leaving first thing in the morning. We'll still have the chance to get it on."

"How do you know that?"

"Janey," the wife, "told me. It appears that before they had the kids they came up here, in the middle of the week, all the time."

"Are we that obvious?"

"It appears so."

They left shortly after sunrise. Mom and I, naked, took a swim and made love on the beach. As we hiked out I thought about Mom and the kids and their affinity for her. I'd assumed Mom, now forty, would not want any more children, but we had not really talked about it. So I asked. Mom, it turned out, was concerned that at age nineteen I was not ready for a family. When we got back to Burlington we discarded the birth control. She was one month pregnant when, at the end of the summer, we flew to Las Vegas, returning with wedding rings. Everyone assumed we'd married; we didn't bother to correct them.

Mom, who finished second in her Masters program, was selected to deliver the students' remarks at the graduation ceremony. Standing before the microphone, her distended belly affirming our child's birth was but a month away, Mom was, as always, funny, charming, engaging. We named our daughter Florence. Our son was born two years later, during my second year at Vermont Law School.