A Matter of Timing

But, in the final analysis, she did not want to be possessed or dominated by Jim - nothing against being dominated and nothing against Jim; but the two together just did not feel right.

And that was the reason why she had abruptly ended the affair. She had expected him to hound her and she had a plan in mind to fix that. But quite unexpectedly he had quietly moved away.

The anesthetic assistant had actually been her first extra marital dalliance. It was also to be her shortest. It had happened while she was an anesthesiology resident. He was short, small and plump, with the clearest blue eyes that she had ever seen. Those blue eyes could take on a cow like worshipping expression. And it was exactly that expression that had got him into her pants in the first place.

At the end of a long work day she had gone to the anesthetic work room to find a piece of equipment that her attending physician had wanted her to have available for a case the next day. Being a diligent person, she had wanted to make sure the equipment was there and would be ready to be used.

It was quite late and only people working the late shift were around. In the anesthetic work room she found Larry all alone and puttering around. He helped her find what she wanted. It had taken some doing and they had finally found it in a remote part of the room behind some large shelves. That was when he had made his move. She suddenly found his hands groping her breasts even as he dry humped her quite frantically. With a surprised cry she freed herself and turned around furiously. She was all set to slap his face and give him a tongue lashing. But she found him whimpering and shaking with his head down and his hands clasped together in wretched surrender. He had then looked up at her with that cow like worshipping expression in those clear blue eyes, telling her he was so sorry but he could not help himself as she was so beautiful and desirable and he was a pathetic loser. Tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

Something snapped in her. The proverbial heart strings, maybe. Or maybe it was the maternal side of her that responded. She found herself actually wiping his tears and caressing his face. He just stood still and let her fuss over him. Then he gently held her hands and kissed them softly. And then he knelt down and abjectly kissed her shoes. When she tried to move away he held on to her legs for dear life and began kissing her ankles and then her legs. She just stood there (she could never explain exactly why) and let him work his way up below her dress all the way to her panty clad cunt.

She knew not how he did it but he managed to back her onto a stool and remove her panties. Then he went to work on her cunt. He gave her the best mouth fucking of her life. Absolutely the best. To this day her cunt got all wet and bothered with the memory. She came, she knew not how many times. A steady stream of cunt squelching climaxes. When she came off her high she discovered that he had entered her and was fucking her feverishly. He did not last long but came with a prolonged burst of hot come, flooding her vagina.

Later on, when she looked back at her affair she realized that this must have been his modus operandi; his way of getting off his jollies; his way of getting women to fuck him. It was not much of an affair. It lasted maybe for half a dozen encounters. It lasted even that long mainly because of his oral skills. But she was not really attracted to him and maternal feelings have their limitations as far as fucking is concerned. She had finally and firmly turned him down and that was that. Later, he had drifted off to another hospital.

So, was it maternal feelings that attracted her to Ryan? Or was her kinky side attracted to his massive cock especially since it was her son's? And as a corollary was it the submissive part of her sexual make up that Ryan and his huge and surely dominating cock had awakened? Or was it just a middle aged woman's fascination with a younger and obviously very virile man? Again, in the final analysis all intellectual scrutiny failed. The earthier, baser part of her mind took over and told her that she lusted after that cock, and wanted it up her cunt; every fucking inch of it. That that cock was her son's cock mattered not at all.

But what of her son? What of Ryan?

He had never really thought of his mother in a sexual way. And even after the incident he did not do so.

If anything, the episode had left him with an enormous sense of embarrassment. He was an intelligent lad with a well ordered mind. A mind rooted very strongly in reality; the mind of a lawyer. And that was exactly what he was striving to become - a lawyer, like his father.

The fact that he had been caught in discomfiting circumstances was humiliating, he should not have allowed it.

Also, some of the discomfiture stemmed from the fact that he liked, no, adored pornography. His logical mind could not stomach this. But the instinctive, emotional, primitive part of his mind absolutely wallowed in it. This conflict between civility and depravity was now a part of his identity. He defined himself as the worldly, poised, knowledgeable entity that mingled with his parent's guests and friends as an equal and reveled in how well he conducted himself. And yet, he also reveled in the quagmire of pornography. Not so much with pornographic literature (if there is such an entity) as with the raw visual stuff with all the added grunting and squealing sound effects.

It was not that it acted as a poor substitute for the real thing. He was well experienced in the real thing. His good looks and poised, self assured manner had got him plenty of real women to fuck. His liberal, well heeled parents had provided him with a fully furnished luxury apartment in downtown Pasadena. He divided his time as he pleased between his two residences. As a result, he could do as he pleased when he was not at their home and no one questioned his comings and goings. Given that he had a lot of money to burn and time and space to burn it in he had laid more than his fair share of Southern Californian womanhood in very many imaginative ways.

But the fact remained that despite this he still loved pornography. Go figure.

In the days that followed the DVD debacle, his embarrassment ensured that he did not indulge himself masturbating incessantly to more pornographic stuff (though he could not help but use his well lubricated hands a few times). Also, he had no designated girl friend at the moment and no undesignated fuck partner either (though he had a few prospects in mind). So even if embarrassment did not prevent him from sticking his prick in real live fleshy holes, a lack of availability did.

In fact, in the days that followed he began noticing his mother. Or rather, she made him notice her because of her behavior. He caught strange looks from her. Strange, because they were furtive and the moment he saw her looking his way, she quickly looked away. Why? She had never done that before. And strange because most of these surreptitious glances were at his genital area.

And then her behavior. As the days rolled past, he could not but notice that she would get decidedly fidgety, almost like she was nervous, whenever they were alone for any length of time. She would flush and blush inexplicably and her eyes would dart hither and thither, while talking about something mundane. He had even heard a sharp intake of breath on a few occasions when she had come upon him unexpectedly. Like when she had come upon him bending over or when his crotch was thrust forward in some activity and he was wearing shorts.

He had never viewed her in a sexual manner before. She was his mother - that vague female thing that softly but firmly told him to do this or that. And it wasn't as if overnight he had visions of her climbing on his cock and fucking the daylights out of him. No, even the mind of a young man with a pornographic bent takes time to reach florid incestual conclusions.

Gradually, over the next few weeks her strange behavior made him think the seemingly impossible. Could his own mother be coming on to him? Could she be sexually attracted to him? Wow, that was too much. But really, could she?

His mother was certainly attractive. He had just never thought of her that way. But now, he began seeing her in a new light. As a woman. As a mature woman. As a mature woman, still in the prime of her sexual life. She was tall for a woman, and regular exercise had made her body taut and had kept middle age spread at bay. In addition nature had bestowed on her features, that while not rendering her drop dead gorgeous, gave her a beauty that grew on you the more you saw of her. Her breasts were decidedly small but definitely a perky handful. Her hips and buttocks were emphatically spectacular - just the right size and firm. Put all that together and you had a prime specimen of womanhood. A prime specimen ready to be fucked. But was she? Ready to be fucked, that is? By him? Her son?

The logical part of his mind found lots of flaws with this assumption. But the unreasoning, primordial, emotional, lusty part of his mind was getting more and more convinced of it with each passing day. That she was his mother and what he was contemplating committing was incest, mattered not in the least. Perhaps, it added something extra delicious for his primeval mind.

He now began viewing her in a different light. Different parts of her anatomy now took on hitherto unknown properties; properties of a decidedly sexual nature. She had soft womanly hands with long fingers. That was his mother. But this new creature that he envisioned had hands that were graceful and seductive and had fingers that extended forever. Fingers that moved enticingly and beguilingly, tempting him to suck on each perfectly formed one of them till their owner cried out in fulfillment. And when they were displayed, for example, on the dining table innocently transferring food from plate to mouth they became, in his fancy, delicate instruments of sexual gratification. He imagined those fingers working their way into her cunt and then vigorously bringing her to orgasm in a most unladylike fashion, or encompassing his cock and tenderly yet sensuously masturbating him to ecstasy. After all the boy was a connoisseur of pornography even though he wanted to believe it was his alter ego - the unreasoning, primordial, emotional, lusty part of his mind.

Her feet were sinewy and her toes, long and elegant. Runner's feet. With high arches and graceful lines from heel to well shaped toes. He had always been conscious that she had good feet, as in feet that were not misshapen or thick and ugly. That was his mother. But now those very same feet took on definite fetish tones as sexual instruments both for what those supple toes and soft feet could do to his hard on but also for what he could do to them. Yup, he was definitely into feet. He loved to caress them, work the toes, lick them from heel to toes and suck on each toe individually and then get them all into his mouth at once and run his tongue on their undersides till saliva rolled down his cheeks. Not every foot, but special ones. After all the boy was a connoisseur of pornography even though he wanted to believe it was his alter ego - the unreasoning, primordial, emotional, lusty part of his mind.

His favorite had belonged to a librarian in her mid thirties, mousy and rather undistinguished in her looks. He had come across her just a year ago. She was not ugly with a thick face and adenoidal features or anything as revolting as that. But not someone to turn heads either. She was thin and wore glasses. What distinguished her was a perfect figure. But she kept it hidden under non descript clothes. A complete and utter sense of inadequacy enveloped her. She had never quite grown out of adolescent insecurity and carried that diffidence to adulthood.

He would never have noticed her if he did not have a pornographic bent of mind with a penchant for fetishes. It was a warm summer's day and he had come across her sitting on a bench in a park. He had climbed up roughly hewn stone steps and the first thing he saw as he came up to eye level with them were her naked feet swinging to and fro. He stopped and stared at her feet. Long and lean, muscular and shapely with toes that went on forever without the stubbiness and calluses brought on by years of being confined in tight closed shoes. His gaze travelled upwards. It being a warm summer day she had on an impulse allowed herself to be dressed skimpily (for her, that is). Thus was revealed to his upwards travelling gaze perfectly shaped legs exposed to her knees and then a naked hour glass waist before a blouse covered her beasts. By the time his gaze reached her nondescript face he was in lust. The problem really was that most men's gazes stopped at her face. As would have his were it not that fate made him behold her feet first. And he was sold.

He set himself down on the bench, as far away from her as possible, and made the most original opening remark of all time, " Nice day."

It took a moment or two for her to get that he was talking to her, and then she replied in a most original way, " Yes, it is."

From there, their conversation traversed more original pathways, till as most strangers, who have time on their hands and do not take an instant dislike to the other person, they reached topics of mutual agreement. On that particular day they both had time on their hands and in a short while had reached a plateau in their conversation that necessitated moving somewhere for coffee. Which they did and found that they had more things in common than either had thought of and necessitated moving somewhere else for further opportunities to indulge in further character forming conversation. Since her apartment was close by, it was the most logical place to repair to.

It was a neat and well kept apartment, cozy and warm. Just like the owner was, he was beginning to discover. Since it was dinner time by then, she had whipped up a superb vegetarian pasta concoction in her orderly kitchen in next to no time. Afterwards, she had brought out a bottle of vintage port that she had poured into two Waterford crystal glasses that she had inherited from her Irish grandmother. They had sipped the elegant port while watching Jon Stewart's Daily Show on Comedy Central (they had both agreed that he was a sane voice in contrast to the insanity on the Fox News Channel).

And of course it was most natural that some of their body parts would collide (quite by accident, of course) and some of that elegant port would spill on to her perfectly laundered light colored dress. And of course he would react in the time ordained clumsy male fashion and attempt to shoo away the stains with his bare hands. And of course his hands would reach parts they were not supposed to paw. And of course she would reach out with her delicately feminine hands to prevent this and their hands would intertwine. And of course they would then gaze into each other's eyes with hands entwined.

But here is where the script departs from Romantic Novel lines. After all, this is an erotic, even more - a pornographic tale, with a protagonist who has a pornographic bent of mind. So instead of progressing along soulful lines, which may have satisfied her vegetarian bent of liberal mind, and progressed further to gazing soulfully into her eyes before falling onto his knees and professing his everlasting love for her, he had taken hold of one hand and fed those graceful fingers into his mouth and sucked on them for all he was worth.

This of course took her completely by surprise as it would anybody with a non pornographic, non fetish, bent of mind. She yelped and tried to pry her hand loose but he had it in a vise grip. So gradually she relaxed and gave herself to this new experience. Then he took her other hand and sucked on digits from that hand. And not just sucking on fingers. It progressed to licking the palms, with each slurp starting at the base of the hand and progressing lazily up to a fingertip.

And then he began to move up on the limb nearest him, licking her soft forearm and then her arm, savoring the soft down that covered them, and nibbling on the flesh. He reached her shoulder and her sleeveless blouse. Without missing a beat he lifted her arm and applied his tongue to her shaved arm pit savoring the salinity left from the warm day. She felt ticklish but despite her diffidence was getting turned on. Then, nonchalantly he slid her blouse off her shoulders so it pooled at her waist. Next, he reached for her bra clasp and with practiced ease he rid her breasts of their constricting influence. Before she could really grasp the fact, she was naked to her waist. And he had fastened his mouth to a nipple. A perfectly formed nipple that immediately responded by getting as hard and erect as the Eiffel tower.

When she realized what was going on she moved her hands to his head with the intention of removing his presumptuous head from her breast. Instead she found herself clasping his head and fondling his hair just as he moved off the nipple and opened his mouth to gobble up a large portion of her breast. His tongue then began playing with the nipple, teasing and tormenting it until she began thrusting her pelvis upwards obscenely and quite uncharacteristically.

He then moved off her breast and his tongue licked a path downwards unerringly towards her crotch. When he got there, without let or hindrance he effortlessly removed her skirt and panties and holding her legs widely apart attacked her thus lewdly exposed vagina.

He had moved from sucking her fingers to sucking her cunt so slickly and so quickly that it took a little while before she realized she was stark staring raving naked with her legs flung open, inviting a relative stranger into her copulatory canal. A relative stranger who happened to be yet fully clothed and certainly much younger than her. With realization of her situation came the unmistakable realization that she was really into what this much younger fully clothed man was doing to her. And then he began fucking her with his tongue. First, it snaked its way past the folds of her cunt into her pleasure box. And then he set up a jack hammer rhythm with it, working it in and out of her cunt with the energy of youth till her cunt could not help but release fluids and relax itself with abandon around his marauding oral organ. Then he pulled it out and set about flicking the nub of her clitoris with the tip. After the full lingual vaginal invasion this was the icing on the cake and she ground her sex onto his face, closed her legs strongly around his head and climaxed with a muted grunt. She had never experienced a sexual high that was this stratospheric.

As a matter of fact she had never had oral sex before. This was a first. A mind boggling first. When she descended to ground level she discovered that he had moved off her cunt and had rendered himself bereft of clothing and now stood before her with a turgid cock begging for attention.

" My god," she thought, " that is huge." But she did not have much time to muse because he laid her lengthwise on the couch and holding her legs apart sank down on her with his rigid cock aimed at her cunt. All that oral activity had rendered her vagina ready for penetration. But obviously not for a weapon of this magnitude because it sank in easily about one fourth of its length and then ran into what seemed to be a brick wall. She felt stuffed.

Not making further ingress, he looked for something else to do and saw her legs and feet splayed out on either side. His earlier attraction to her feet took hold and he raised up a foot and examined it even as one quarter of his cock was still stuffed up her cunt. He felt its texture and the outline of tendons with his kneading fingers. His fingers ran up her long, straight and definitely aristocratic toes getting acquainted with each of them in a rather intimate fashion. Then he began orally worshipping them. Each toe in turn was lavished with saliva, and after that attention was given to the rest of her elegant foot, with every inch of it licked and coated richly with spit. He took his time with this, savoring the experience, thrilled to discover this aspect of his erotic persona.