Tooth and Nail

She closed her eyes and my first urge was to be inside her, but looking at her pussy made me want to taste her first. Very few of the girls I had been with had triggered this desire, but with my mother, the thought of pleasuring her with my mouth brought me pleasure. I kissed down her belly and let my tongue lick along the folds. It was moist and soft and I got excited. I slipped my tongue up the opening until I reached her hood and licked over the nub. I sucked it into my mouth and worked it while I listened to my mother moan. When I stopped she exhaled contentedly and opened her eyes to see me looking up and down the lines and curves of her body. I said, "Mom, just looking at you fills up my heart."

I could see that she was touched as she reached her hand out and said, "Oh Steven..." I got on my knees between her legs and raised them by the ankles. I told her to hold them and she surprised me when she took her legs by the calves and pulled them back far enough to open herself to me. She was more limber than I imagined and even though her feet weren't by her head, they were close. This stretched her center open and I could see the invitation her two openings presented.

Do you know how it feels after you've been totally out of it for a while, and then one morning you wake up feeling good, or when the noise from the construction site that's been pounding all day finally stops? That's the relief I felt when I entered my mother's pussy; it was a relief I'd never felt with any other woman. For the first time, I called her by her name, and I said, "Diana, I love you."

She only said, "Oh God..."

That first entry into her wet pussy was more than I expected. The way her velvety insides held my cock and the way she moved, and the way I felt, it was like I'd never had sex before. As I drew in and out, the soft lips of her vagina caressed my shaft. I couldn't believe it was my mother's pussy that was doing it to me. I was so nervous, I kept asking her if it was okay with practically every stroke, "Mom is it good, mom is it too hard, mom does it hurt?"

She must have found all my questions amusing, because she relaxed for a moment and sort of smiled, "No baby, it's good...it's very good...you're all inside me." She began gyrating and her moans turned her expression serious. I relaxed a little and stroked deeper and realized by her sounds that she was enjoying it as much as I was. I was in the soft wet place I could only imagine a moment before and the reality was a revelation. I opened my eyes and slowed to look at her, and when she shifted position she looked at me and with an expression that showed the passion that had engulfed her.

When I thought about it I said, "Mom, I'm not wearing anything."

She said, "I know, it's okay." I felt good because it meant she was protected and unlike with Brendan, she was letting me be flesh on flesh.

My cock was hard and thick as it probed her pussy. Her lips were creamy and spread easily to allow me to stroke her. I entered her center and she said, "Yes there...there." I pushed my thickened flesh deeper up into her pussy and she said, "Oh God, you're inside me...so good...so big inside me."

My mother's pussy was humid and slippery and each stroke took me deeper to her center. I savored each stroke that rode into her body as if it were an experience I might never have again. My cock was thick with desire and I tried to control myself because I wanted to be inside my mother's massaging channel as long as I could. I was inside her, and she wanted me there, and I never wanted it to end.

As she moved and squirmed and writhed under me, I took her right leg and crossed it to my left shoulder. I kissed her ankle and moved up her leg as I continued to stroke her. I couldn't tell if the pulsing was from my throbbing flesh or my mothers. The new entry felt different than before. She became even more animated and noisy and I realized that the angle of my entry into her pussy seemed to hit her 'G' spot in just the right place.

She looked amazing. She had her legs up and she was holding one calf with one hand and with the other she caressed her breast. I was moving in and out of her gyrating pussy and she was moaning. The fit was so good. I filled her, and she was wrapped all around me, squeezing and massaging me with the warm silky flesh I was never supposed to feel. I wanted to do everything to her at once. I wanted to put my cock every place it would go. I wanted to stay inside her forever. But it felt so good, that I knew forever would soon come to an end.

I kissed her; I touched her gently, and then firmly. I looked at her soft smile and saw her love as she took me into her pussy. I varied the strokes and each contact brought a surprised "Oooh" from her. Over and over she said it until the long "Oooh's became a rapid-fire "OH, OH, OH, OH." Her pussy was juicing more with each insertion. I watched each inch of me as it entered the pussy that seemed to be made for me. Her velvety warm center welcomed her son.

I kept thrusting and reveled in the thought and sensations of making my mother come. She trembled and stiffened and said, "Stevie I'm coming...I'm COMING..." My mother's pussy was grasping and clenching on the hard pipe that filled her and I could feel her using my cock as the tool of her pleasure. I kept pushing the length of my cock into her pussy until I could feel a wet discharge as her long orgasm continued. The sound that came from her was a cry of, "Aieeeee..." that I would have thought was pain if I wasn't inside her, and watching the pleasure she felt as she came.

I was surprised because I thought for sure I would come before she did, but as she cried out, I began releasing my cum into her pussy as the spasms wracked her body. "Stevie, Stevie, Stevie..." She must have said my name a hundred times as I flooded her with love and cum. The sound of my name at the top of her lungs caromed off the bedroom walls and I stroked into the wetness our mingled juices provided.

All the good feelings and anticipation of having her again, all night, all week, all year, dissolved after a few minutes when her tears came. Her words were drowned out, but mostly, "Oh God...I said I wouldn't...no, no, no...what's wrong with me..."

I guess I was frustrated because it had been so perfect and there she was carrying on; so I said, "WHY ARE YOU CRYING?" It was loud, it was insensitive, and the tone as much as anything brought her up short. She looked furious. I thought I was about to get the first ever whack across the face from her, but instead she wrenched the sheet and wrapped herself in it as she went towards her bathroom.

If it wasn't so upsetting I might have been amused at the dramatic line that she delivered as she left, "Don't be here when I come out." I hope never to see the look she gave me again. How can you feel so awful so quickly after feeling great?

The next morning, we had 'The Talk.' I started to apologize, but she stopped me. "It's okay Steven, it wasn't your fault...I'm sorry too, but I've had a whole night to think this through. I want you to understand something honey. You are very good for me...that way...I let myself get carried away, because it was so good, but it was a mistake, and it would be so easy to just keep making the same mistake again and again, but I'm not going to let that happen. Stevie, I'm not saying any of this was your fault, but one of us has to think clearly, and it has to be me. I saw how you were with me, you're a young man...this thing is exciting now, but in the end, it's still sex with your mother, and it's going to end badly...very badly for both of us."

All I knew was that a beautiful woman was in front of me. I didn't care how old she was and I didn't care what the next week or year might bring. I just wanted to love her, there, then. I told her every reason I could think of why she was wrong, but she didn't even hear them. At that moment there was nothing I could have said that would have made any impression at all.

It got me down. During the following weeks, she pulled away from me. I missed the way we used to sit and listen to music, with her hand on my chest, resting on me. I missed thinking of her open for me, wanting me, taking me inside her.

Mom started spending more time with Marina. We all had dinner together at least once or twice a week and it became evident to me that marina was attracted to my mother. She was a pretty woman in her early thirties, and I wouldn't have thought she was gay except for the way she was always touching my mother, and kiddingly calling her 'Mom.'

Lots of guys are turned on when they think of women making love to each, and the thoughts of Marina and my mother eating each other's pussy did produce pretty pictures in my head, but I was still uncomfortable. Mainly because whether a relationship starts off as physical, or emotional, both usually end up in the mix. Not that I had any say in the matter, but I didn't want mom and Marina involved.

So when my mother came home late one night after being with her, I asked her, "Mom, do you like Marina?"

"Of course I like her," she said. Actually, what came out was '"Coursh I like'er." When my mother drinks, it's usually not more than an occasional beer, or wine with dinner, so that she fairly reeked of liquor surprised me.

I gave her an exasperated look and said, "You know what I mean, mom."

She said, "Oh...that. No, it didn't work out...some kissing and stuff, but it's not for me...it would have been nice, but I'm stuck with who I am...men..." That was more or less the gist of it.

If I was surprised at her condition that night, I was more surprised, when about fifteen minutes after we went to bed, she came into my room. She pulled back my sheet and began going down on me. I should have stopped her, I knew she'd had too much, but I couldn't. Her mouth was on me, and I couldn't. Her tongue was on me, and I wouldn't.

Her excitement was evident and her sounds were loud as she worked my cock with her mouth. She held my balls as she sucked and licked in a frenzy. Her head was moving as fast as her mouth until I gently held it and she calmed. I reached into her nightgown and held her breast with the tips of my fingers. The velvety tit slid through them when she moved up and down on my shaft. I know there was no sound in the room besides her sucking and my moaning, but I still heard the rush of the ocean in my ears.

If I went nearly out of my mind with excitement, it was understandable. One of my mother's hands was on my balls, one of my mother's hands was on my shaft, and my mother's mouth was doing wondrous things as she sucked me. It didn't take long to reach the point of no return. I had no time to warn her as I quickly came. She must have realized and anticipated at an instinctive level, because she fisted hard at just the right time to give me an explosive orgasm. When I was through, her hand and my cock were both slathered with my cum. Without a pause she took me back into her mouth. She sucked off the cream went back to the same pace and quickly I was up and hard. She mounted me.

She obviously wasn't wearing panties under the nightgown. I found that out when the head of my cock contacted the lips of her pussy. She pushed down until I eased through her lips and then she filled herself slowly as my width pressed against the walls of her channel. She got wet fast and was then able to ride me more easily.

She leaned back with her eyes closed, and her hands on my thighs. She gyrated slowly. She moved forward and back and my shaft toggled in her pussy. When she moved around, I could feel the flesh of her ass on my balls. As she rose and fell, using my cock to spear herself, I watched in fascination in the dim light as my length appeared and then disappeared into the depths of her pussy. The incredible sensation of feeling my shaft pushing up between my mother's legs into that taboo passageway made me dizzy.

The sensation of my hardness in her softness intensified when she lifted and lowered herself until she couldn't take any more. I lifted the nightgown off her and threw it aside. There were only glimmers of light that fell on them, but her breasts looked lovely. I grasped them fully and massaged them up to the large nipples. The flesh filled my hands, and yielded, unlike some implants I'd come across. I pulled them toward me, and she bent forward allowing me to take one in my mouth. I sucked hard and my mother moaned without stopping her movement on my cock. Then she said, "OH."

That was the only word she said, over and over, as she straightened up and impaled herself fast and hard. Her orgasm triggered mine and I let go into her pussy until we were both spent. She collapsed on me and breathed hard for a while without saying anything. The smell of the drinks she'd had was as strong as when she'd come in. I said, "Mom..." thinking we could talk about what was going on between us. I wanted to tell her so many things: what a special mom she was, how good she was for me, how good it could be for both of us to be together, but she left, unsteadily, without saying a word.

The next day was Saturday and we both slept late. When I got up she was still in her robe, but busily straightening and cleaning at a nervous pace. Again my part of the conversation was "Mom..."

This time she answered and said, "If it's about last night, I don't want to talk about it..." She was tightly wound, and I didn't know if the expression on her face was anger, disgust, frustration, or a concoction of all. "I just don't," she added.

I said, "Okay mom."

She said, "Thank you," and went about the busy work. We were getting nowhere fast. There was no repeat of that late night visit, which I waited for weeks to happen, and the next time we had contact, we finally talked. She wanted to teach me "The Blue Danube" on the piano and she was playing a recording of it.

The music was on; she looked so soft in a jersey knit dress. I took her hand and said, "Come dance, mom."

She kept refusing until I kidded her into getting up from the bench, and she wasn't in my arms more than a few minutes before she started to cry. I knew what it was, but I still said, "What is it, mom?"

"I'm so unhappy, Stevie...this thing is too much for me." She hammered me lightly on the chest with her fist a few times. Then she did it a little harder; I let pound until she stopped. "Why does it have to be you, of all people, I can't find someone to love and to want, other than my own son? What's wrong with me?"

When I said, in a cartoonish voice, "Well babe, I guess it's the same thing that's wrong with me," she almost laughed.

"Be serious Steven, we're mother and son, we can't go around doing...these things."

I said, "Well then maybe I should go after Marina since we both have you in common." She wasn't amused, so I got serious and said, "Mom, I love you, and it's great with you, and..."

"No Steven, none of that matters, it's not right."

"Who says, people out there? Who cares what they think?"

"That's just it...I think it's not right...I care." There was a long pause and she said, "Stevie, one of us has to move out the house, I can't do this." I was flattened, and in the space of a disgusted moment, I saw myself without her, and didn't give a fuck anymore.

"Fine, I'll go, "I said. "I'll get an apartment closer to work, I'll call you once a month and..."

"Stevie, don't do that, please baby."

She put her arms around me and I softened and said, "Okay, kiss me good-bye." I sort of smiled and added, "And you'd better make it a good fucking kiss."

She laughed and she kissed me, and it was a good fucking kiss, but if I was waiting for the scene where the kiss leads to bed and happily ever after, it didn't happen. I moved out.

And if I was waiting for the scene where she misses me so much after a few weeks that we then end up in bed, well, that didn't happen either. I mean, really, what could I do, what could I say? A mother was saying to her son, 'I don't want to sleep with you,' what kind of counter-argument can you come up with for that one? The thing of it was, that after being inside her, it felt like we were sharing more than just the physical act. I wasn't quite sure what it was, until I didn't have it anymore.

I did go over to the house and we had dinner together a few times a week, but it was the piano that kept us close. The music became a bond and it was an almost intimate dialogue that we shared when we played for each other. I had played her a Chopin nocturne and when I saw how moved she was, I said, "Mom, it's been over six month's since we were together; neither of us has mentioned it and I know you're probably happy about that, but I just want to say something, if it's all right with you."

I could see she was troubled, but she said, "Stevie, I'm uncomfortable for more than one reason...go ahead, you can say whatever you want."

I said, "I just want you to know that that it's not about the sex anymore, maybe at first it was, you know, the excitement, and the taboo of it all, but now I want you because you're the person I love."

"Oh Steven," the tone was dismissive, "You love me because I'm your mother, and I know that boys sometimes want their mother, but this whole business is just...forbidden pleasure for you, or getting off, or whatever they're calling it these days."

"You're wrong mom. Is that was it was for you? I've been out with enough girls in the last six months to know the difference. It means almost nothing when I'm with them. Besides Marina, you've hardly been out all this time, why not? You used to date, what about that guy from work you used to see, why aren't you going out?"

"Why are you doing this me? Okay maybe it is different for me, but I'm older, I've been through it...so you're right, that's why Bob doesn't call anymore. I wasn't interested in sleeping with him and I'm not looking for anyone because I'm so tired of all the...crap." She started getting upset and loud and she said, "Okay so what am I supposed to do about it? Yes it was different with you, yes it was good with you, yes I wanted you, is that what you want to hear; well I said it, and so now what...I'm not going to have an affair with my son."

I tried to calm her down but all I got out was "Mom..." before she went into a rant, getting in my face, and poking me in the chest with her finger. "Do you hear me, do you hear me, do you hear me?" That was when she dissolved into tears and fell into my arms. Did I want to kiss her as she held me? Did I want to touch her as she melted in my embrace? It took every ounce of determination not to.

After she calmed down and we sat quietly for a while, she said, "Why didn't you...you know that five minutes ago I couldn't have stopped you...I wouldn't have...but you do know that, don't you, don't you Steven." It wasn't a question, and she smiled as she touched my face and said, "I guess you do love me, don't you Steven?"

I said, "Yes mom...that's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Thank you honey, for loving me like that." She let out a long breath and said, "Can you hold me for a while baby?"

I said, "Sure mom." We sat. She fell asleep in my arms for over an hour. When she awakened, she kissed me on the lips, short, motherly; too short, too motherly.

Time passed as if it wasn't passing. My birthday came; I didn't get what I wanted. Her birthday went; I was almost resigned to going on without her, even if in a fog of disbelief. How could it be? I was convinced that we should be together. Maybe I hadn't tried hard enough, maybe I'd tried too hard. My head was muddled, and all I seemed to do was dance with my confusion.

So I did what any normal person would do. I almost got killed. It sounds a lot more dramatic than it actually was, some whacko with a gun – that turned out not be loaded, held six people hostage for about ten minutes in an electronics shop. I happened to be in there to show them the new mini-DVD players. The clerk pushed a silent alarm, the guy had his hands up before the cops even said a word and I had ten of my fifteen minutes of allotted fame. I downplayed it for mom, but it made the local news and when she saw it, she hyperventilated.