Finding Our Way Bk. 02

"Oh, fuck. You're the only woman I ever want. This, inside you, is all I ever want."

"Will you keep shoving your love in me, Kevin?" Her voice began to pick up and so did her pace. My body automatically started fucking into her, matching her increased rhythm. "Ohhh?!? Oooh! Keep giving it to me, Kevin. Always? Always put your love in here?"

"UH! Fuck! Yes! Always in you here, Mom" Our bodies were slapping together at a new fevered pitch.

"You'll love my pussy, Kevin. I know you will. Oh, SHIT you feel so UH good!"

I squeezed her sweet little ass, and shoved my tongue in her mouth and really made the mattress jump with the force of the fucking I was giving my beloved mother. She moaned into my mouth, raked my back, broke the kiss, and said, "And you'll love my mouth and my ass. OH, Kevin, I love you so much! You'll always...Oh!...You'll keep me...Fuck so fucking hot!"

"You're mine, and you will always be mine to love."

She wrapped me up in her arms and legs, but we still managed to wriggle against each other and keep my cock probing deep inside her. "Oh, I love you so much, Kevin. I am so in love with you. Cum in me, Baby. UHHHH! Fuck! Cum in me!"

"Rrrrnnngghhh!" I started blasting in my mother's womb. She grabbed both sides of my face, and we locked eyes. Her mouth hung open and she looked into me with an expression like bewilderment. Her jaw dropped and lifted as if she were gasping with each spurt of jizz my balls pushed into her, but she made no sound. She just looked into my eyes, and spread her dancer's legs wide to welcome my insistent erection, my seed and my love.

We kissed with a gentleness that belied the ferocity of our earlier fucking and screaming. We held together, trying to keep me inside her for as long as we could. We told each other over and over how much we loved one another. How crazy it was that we were actually mother and son. How amazing it was that we had fallen so in love.

***

Looking back I'm surprised that I'd failed to connect my mother's words that night; the problems she'd mentioned earlier in the evening and the declarations she'd made in my arms near the end of that night. I would look into other jobs in other companies, including in other cities. I would take care to work towards a situation wherein we could live more as a legitimate couple. But it wouldn't be until many months later, in another city altogether that my mother's other concern would resurface.

Chapter 5

On Ladies Night the Ladies Play

I was still at the firm; still working under that bone head Keely. I'd dragged my feet about editing and sending out the résumés, but Mom was able to entice me into getting the job done. She'd brought home three new pieces of lingerie, and told me I'd get to pick one for her to wear the night after I sent them out. Until then, she'd threatened, it would be oversized sweats every night.

It wasn't much of a threat. My mother could look hot in a muumuu. Besides, I would have had no trouble getting my hands into those sweats once we were in bed. We both knew that she would end up naked, sweaty and squeezing my ass trying to pull me in deeper, regardless of what she started off wearing.

But that wasn't the point, I knew, so I took care of it that night and chose the long dark grey/blue negligee. I took a good long time getting it off her, though we were panting with hunger the whole while. When, finally, there was nothing but moonlight on her skin, she pounced on me. She practically ripped off the boxer shorts I'd been wearing, exposing my soldier at full salute. She skipped her usual attempts to swallow my dick whole, and simply mounted up.

"You know, I love you so much," she said once she was fully impaled on my manhood. She just sat there - no shifting or humping - and smiled down at me.

"I know. I love you too." I reached up, and tweaked her nipples. They were already hard.

Her cunt clutched at my bone, and that was her only reply until she said, "It means the world to me that you sent out those résumés." She leaned forward, bracing her hands against my chest. Her gorgeous breasts swayed forward, bulging between her biceps. The mattress was silent, so we could both hear the squelching sound of my mother's soaked pussy adjusting to the 8½ inches of cock planted inside her.

I moved my hands down to her hips, and around to hold her ass; this ass that was so pert and sweet and round that you'd expect to find it on a woman half her age. An athletic woman half her age. Each cheek fit easily in my large hands, and that was good since it was there for my enjoyment. "I'm glad to do it. I'm glad to see you so happy...and so naked...and on top of me."

"Yeah?" she said with a playful tone and a smile.

"Yeah. Of course, Mom"

"You like having me up here, sitting on your beautiful monster?" She swiveled her hips slowly, tilting my pole around her hot wet womb.

"Uh! Fuck. Yes, I love it. You look so great, and you feel so great." I squeezed the lady's buns as extra encouragement.

"Mmmmm. That's good, Baby, 'cause I'm gonna stay up here. Mmmm. I'm going to keep you nice and hard and soooo deep in my pussy, Kevin."

"Yeah? You're planning on staying up on my cock for while?"

"Hmmm. A good long while."

Indeed she did. We were never the sort of couple to switch positions 15 times in a session. Twice or three times, sure, but not really more than that. But tonight my mother stayed on top, and rode me for over an hour. Sometimes she leaned forward, crushing her breasts against my chest and kissing me hard. Sometimes she showed off her very good goods in woman astride position. She came over and over because she knew how much it turned me on to see her in the throes of orgasm. I felt her juices dripping off my ball sack as I lay on my back. I told her that I didn't want her to think I was lazy, lying there like a bum. I could take over, and bring some of the heat if she'd like. But, no, this night was all her. She was so excited about the résumés that she wanted to bathe me in the love and desire she felt for me.

I was a beautiful sight. I didn't think about much more than how heavenly her pussy felt stretched over my hard on; how gorgeous she looked, sweaty naked and smiling while bouncing up and down over me.

But eventually, between her cunt crushing down on my dick and the feel of her soft breasts in my hands, I wondered at why the résumés mattered so much to her. We were comfortable enough that we could quit our jobs and we could stay in the house most days. Why was she this excited?

Don't get me wrong. I was tasting her tongue and thanking the stars that she was this excited. But I wondered what she saw in this step that I didn't. What - besides new work, possibly in a new town - did this all mean to my mother?

Soon enough, Mom got down low, grabbed my ears (of all things!) and eye fucked me while making her hips do things - twisty things - that made my orgasm a foregone conclusion. I forgot about questions or doubts, and I felt like she was pumping love into me through my eyes at the same time I was pumping her full of cum. She rode me hard through the whole orgasm, and whispered, "Oh thank you, Kevin. Thank you, Baby. Mommy loves getting your cum. You put it so deep in my little pussy. Mmmm. You touch me in places I never knew I had; make me feel things I've never felt before." My cock slipped out of her, and she said, "Oop!" Then she fell asleep right there on top of me.

I loved my mother. I was in love with her. I was going to love her always, and I was going to make our bed bounce with her lithe body as long as she'd have me. I knew she loved me too. I had no doubts about that. But I was beginning to have doubts about the bigger picture of what this job search might mean. When I thought things through, I realized that this was a pretty big deal. I didn't have a giant crowd of friends, but I did have a few good ones here in town. Kim was the only one who knew about us, and that made her an invaluable friend. And we were looking to leave them all behind...for what exactly? Money wasn't the real reason. That had been sorted out long ago. So Mom and I could go out on dates and to dinner parties? I mean I got that this could be a nice addition to our social lives, but it also meant starting over. Was I really expanding our social horizons by dropping the local friend count to zero? I knew there is e-mail and Skype and stuff like that, but it's not the same thing.

The fact, though I wouldn't admit it to myself at the time, was that I dreaded the change and the challenge of starting over with no friends to help me get settled (like Kim had helped me get started at my first firm.) I was letting my fears drive my thinking, and that's never the way to make decisions. But at the time I couldn't see all that. At the time it all seemed like a tremendous amount of trouble to make without much reason to back it up.

How I responded to my doubts however, was indefensible. All I can say is that I was young and stupid and let my fears lock me up. I look back on it now and cringe. I made things so much more complicated than they had to be. But I was too paralyzed by my doubts and fears.

I put off responding to the calls I got from the firms I'd applied to. I blew off job offers that may or may not have been better. I told myself that I was too busy with the job I actually had to dig around about jobs I probably didn't want anyway.

Mom and I had had fights when I was ten and when I was a teen, and she'd been the undisputed boss. We'd had arguments on occasion since becoming lovers too, and it had become disputes among equals...and making up was much more fun for both of us. But when she started asking if my resume's had gotten any bites and I let her know how dismissive I'd become of the whole thing we had our first real fight.

She was furious that I'd let offers slide without discussing it with her, or at least telling her about them. I felt like she was riding me (and not in the good way,) pestering me about a school project that I didn't want to do. She felt betrayed by my foot dragging, and I reacted badly to that. I lost my temper and got defensive, saying that it was my career and I didn't need her to run it for me. I even implied that she was trying to live vicariously through my ladder climbing.

"I'm not trying to live my life through you, Kevin! I'm trying to live it with you! I can't believe you don't understand that! You're too smart not to get that!"

"We're already living our life together," I argued.

"Only inside the walls of the house. We can't have it together out there!"

"I don't think a guy's mother should be a part of his professional life."

"That's exactly right! But I can't even be a part of your life out there as your woman!"

I rolled my eyes. "We don't bring our significant others to the office either, Mom."

"Who gives a shit about being brought to your office?! Won't you please listen to me Kevin? I have no interest in being paraded around your office. I have no interest in being in your office at all."

"Then why are you pushing so hard for me to leave it?"

"I've already told you! I want to go out with you; as a couple."

"We do that. I've taken you out to movies and dinners and even dancing on your birthday."

Mom dug the heels of her hands into her eyes in frustration. "Yes. And it's always somewhere we don't think anyone we know will see us. And if we do run into someone we know I can't have your hand on my ass anymore. I can't have your tongue and lips on mine. I can't squeeze you through your pants. We have to hide how we feel."

I knew she was right, and I knew what she meant. We both understood that no one could know she was both my mother and my sexual dream-come-true. She wasn't looking to reveal the incestuous nature of our relationship to anyone new. She wanted to change cities so that we could express our heat and love without tripping any alarm bells.

But in my anger - I'm ashamed to say - I snapped, "Look, I'm sorry if I'm not in such a big hurry to change jobs and cities and walk away from the friends I have here just so you can expand your social life."

Not only was it inaccurate, it was totally unfair. Something went dull in her eyes after I said it, and she said in a soft voice, "I see. Well, I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

And she did without another word between us. I cooled down, and realized what a dick I'd been. I still felt resistant to changing cities, but I knew that I'd wronged my mother with what I'd said. I stripped down to my boxers, and came into the room we shared. The lights were out, and I could see she was lying on her side under the covers. I sat down on my side.

"Can I still sleep here?" I asked.

She didn't turn over. She made a deep sigh, and said, "Of course, Kevin. We made this bed yours years ago. It still is."

I slid in behind her, spooning.

I reached over her narrow torso to reach for her delectable breast, but she caught my hand - much like she had one night years before - and brought it to her face. She kissed my hand, and held it there by her face. "Goodnight Kevin, love."

I could have rolled her over onto her back and tried for more, but I knew it wasn't right. The way she'd taken my hand and the way I still felt about the whole job change issue left me with the feeling that a simpler closeness was called for. I nuzzled into her long black hair, and whispered, "Goodnight, love of my life."

***

She was pulling a pair of jeans up over her buns packed into a plain black leotard when I awoke. It was a Friday, so that meant she would catch an extra early ballet class in order to get to her secretary job at the doctor's office bright and early. This way she could help make sure her colleagues had everything wrapped up for closing time, and ladies night could begin on time. She didn't go out with them every time, but lending that extra hand was one of the things that made her so valuable to her office.

"Hey," I said, letting my voice stay groggy for the moment.

She tossed her black hair with a twist of the neck as she looked back at me. "Morning," she said. Her tone was warm, but her smile was mild. "You planning to go out with friends and colleagues tonight?"

I only considered it a moment. "I think I'd rather come home." The subtext was clear between us that I wanted to repair things as best I could.

Her smile deepened, and she said. "Great. I'll see you tonight then." There was an element of flirtation missing, but I wasn't clear headed enough to bring it up. Besides, she wouldn't have time to get into it if she wanted a chance of making that early class.

She headed out the bedroom door, and I dragged myself into the shower. I filed my concerns about us away, and focused on the basic motor skills involved in bathing myself. I had slept poorly, though I didn't remember dreaming or waking up. Seeing Mom hightail it out the door like that left me with a sick feeling in my stomach.

Things didn't improve much at work. I sent her a few texts; nothing that would cause trouble if read over her shoulder, but saying I looked forward to "hanging out" with her and asking if there was anything she'd like me to pick up on the way. She didn't reply until the third message, and even then she only wrote that things had gotten pretty crazy in class and continued to be hectic at work. The messages weren't cold or angry. I'd gotten those sorts of messages during fights in the past. These were just very neutral, and that was odd for us.

I knocked off early (you can do that sort of thing when you're a few rungs up the ladder,) but no one was home when I got there. I changed out of my suit. I was tempted to jump into my twenty-something night-home get-up: shorts or sweats and a T-shirt just to lie around and goof off in. But, in the interest of making things good for Mom and me, I put on some khakis and a polo shirt I knew she liked.

I heard cars drive by on our quiet street, but none pulled in. Our door remained silent as the sky grew darker. I decided to defrost and slice up some chicken breast. We had an old wok from before I could remember. I think it may have belonged to my father since before he'd even met my mother, but couldn't be sure. I put oil in the pan and chopped up carrots, celery and broccoli while it heated up. I opened a can of water chestnuts that still had a year before expiring. I was digging around the cupboard (I was sure there was teriyaki sauce in there somewhere) when I heard the front door open. I spotted the teriyaki, grabbed it and stood up to listen for my mother's voice. She was laughing about something. Then I heard two other women laughing. Then a third unknown woman saying, "Well I certainly wasn't going to leave that to chance, was I?" My mother and the other two burst out in renewed laughter.

I stood there with the bottle of sauce in my hand, listening as hard as I could. My mother's voice spoke next. I could only hear parts as the oil began to sizzle. "Okay, Carla. I think you should stop that story...moment. Remember...son is...meet him...don't want you to..." Then she called, "Kevin?" I could tell she was calling up the stairs.

"I'm in the kitchen!" I called back.

My mother strutted into the kitchen. She was wearing a tight red turtleneck made of a light thin material that allowed the lovely dimensions of her torso to be known without crossing any lines. The usual black pencil skirt was hugging her narrow hips and molding to the muscled thighs. She had her black hair back straight and green eyes open wide. She was smiling, but there was an unnatural stiffness in her expression that put me on alert.

She threw her arms out to her side and up, and said, "Hi, Sweetie!" It sounded like how a woman might call to a seven year old boy. Somehow she was worried that I hadn't heard the other voices; that I needed to be warned that we needed to stay in mother-and-son-without-benefits mode. I stood there, holding that stupid bottle of teriyaki sauce, frozen for the moment.

"Uh, hi Mom." I said without moving any muscles from the neck down. She walked toward me with her arms still stretched out. It looked fairly ridiculous. I almost smiled at this Rockette-style approach, until I noticed that her left hand and wrist were bandaged with gauze or something.

"Oh, you started making dinner," she said, looking from the hissing wok to the bottle in my hand as she approached.

"Yeah, I didn't realize you were bringing friends over," I said to let her know that I already got it that there were other people here. I opened my arms to let her walk into an awkward hug. She wrapped her arms around me, bending slightly forward so there could be no contact between our hips, and kissed me on the cheek. "What happened to your hand?" I asked.

She stepped back, making this one of the shortest hugs we'd shared in months. "Oh, this? I sprained my wrist a bit at ballet," she said. "It should be fine in a day or two. But I shouldn't lift anything heavy for the next 24 hours or so."

I put the bottle on a nearby counter, and started to reach for the injured wrist. Mom pulled away.

I heard the voice of Carla, the story teller, in the doorway to the kitchen. "Wow Janine! And I thought he was a looker from your pictures!" Mom stepped away from me so I could see (and be better seen by) her co-worker. "You've got a regular stud going to waste in your house." She declared.

Carla was most things a middle aged blonde should be if she is on the hunt. She was tall, but wore heels anyway. Her skirt was a short white number with pastel colors swished across in curvy patterns, and it showed off legs that were neither lean nor thick nor particularly toned. They seemed to just happen to have excellent dimensions. The curve of her hips was unmistakably feminine, hinting at an ass with a nice extra bit of cushion for the pushin'. Her waist tapered in, setting an intriguing contrast to her bulging chest. She definitely had more in her sweater than my mother (and the other two women who were now approaching from the living room to investigate Carla's claims.) She wore a lot of necklaces, too many to see her neck very well, and she had plastered on far too much make up. Her hair had lots of curls. In fact, as she walked closer to get a better look at me, it became clear that her hair had seen more than a few chemical processes; too many for my tastes. She could be pretty under all that goop and treatment, but it was hard to tell at first glance.