Mother & Son: A Love Story Pt. 02

Mom's words made me shiver, not from fear or worry, but with heartfelt delight. In a voice tight with emotion, I said, "Why not, Mom? This place has a feel about it. It understands our kind of love -- it will be a place we can share that love again."

Mom laughed and jumped into my arms, showering my face with kisses and rubbing herself against me. We kissed deeply and I had my hands under her dress, discovering she had abandoned her panties again as I cupped her bare cheeks. Mom had my cock half way out of my pants before she stopped and took a deep breath.

"Whoa, son. We need to wait a little while."

"I want you, Mom." I said with some urgency. Being this close to Mom and not having her for over a day was making me a little horny.

"I know, John. I want you too, honey." Mom moved back into my arms and said, "Can you wait just a little while longer? I need to show you something and talk a little more." Mom's voice was full of desire, but also something else -- need mixed with something I couldn't identify.

"Sure Mom, anything you want," I said, willing my cock to wilt, but not succeeding very well.

We locked up the house and Mom led me on up the old gravel road on foot, Mom carrying the flower bouquets and me carrying the picnic basket. We walked in silence, enjoying the warm weather -- birds singing and insects humming and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the trees. We held hands as we walked and I began to hear Mom humming an old gospel tune -- I wasn't sure of the title.

In a little while, we reached another clearing, one that held a neatly manicured and very old cemetery. The caretaker of Mama Polly's property also kept up our old family cemetery. We walked in and walked among the rows of old tombstones, some barely legible, some with names lost to time. As we approached a newer set of stones, I heard Mom sigh. We stopped in front of a pinkish marble stone that had Mama Polly's name and dates on it and a short sentence below it inscribed, "Nothing so precious as the love of one's mother."

"Hello, Polly, sorry it's been so long," Mom whispered and kneeling, she sat a bouquet of flowers in a marble vase on the side of the stone. I think Mom said a short prayer, but her attention kept shifting to the stone beside Mama Polly's. Mom reached for my hand as we stepped towards it and I saw tears run down her face.

"I'm home, Daddy." Mom said in an almost inaudible voice. We stood before my Grandpa Tom's gravestone. Again, Mom knelt and clearing off the old and dried flowers that were in a small vase, she set the second bouquet of flowers inside. Below his name and his dates, was a short inscription and I felt a shiver as Mom ran her fingers over the words, "Beloved Father." Mom was silent for a long time, studying her father's grave.

"I miss you, Daddy, but I'm doing fine. I brought your grandson with me. I wish you could have met him." Mom reached up and taking my hand, gently urged me to kneel beside her. "You'd like him, Daddy. He reminds me of you. John's a fine young man and you and Mama Polly would be so proud of him. He loves me and takes care of me and I love him too."

Mom wiped her tears and laughed, a little embarrassed.. "I guess you think I'm silly, don't you?"

I leaned over and kissed the last of my mother's tears away. "No, not at all, Mom. I think I love you even more -- this was a special moment." We stayed a few more minutes and then Mom urged me to climb to my feet.

"I love you, Daddy," Mom said. "We'll come back and visit with you more very soon, I promise."

"We promise, Grandpa," I added, my words making Mom's face glow with happiness.

Mom and I visited a few other graves -- we couldn't visit her mother's grave because Granny had insisted on being buried in her own family's cemetery several miles away. We spent a little time in front of a small gravestone, Mom informing me that this was her little brother's grave -- that he'd died of heart problems when he was just two years old. We placed the last bouquet of flowers here.

Mom pointed out various ancestors and told a few stories about our family and then said, "C'mon, son, there's a place on up the mountain I'd like to show you."

Hand in hand, we left the cemetery and instead of returning to the gravel road, Mom guided us onto an old and almost gone footpath leading upwards. It was dark and shady, cooler here as the old oaks and hickory trees loomed over us, providing us with lots of shade.

The trail grew steep at times and I was glad that I was in good shape. Mom, who I knew exercised to keep her legs looking good and to keep her voluptuousness from becoming too much, seemed to have no problem walking the trail either. Mom looked at me and laughed. "When I was a young girl, I could run right up the side of this mountain."

Suddenly we stepped into a small, sunlight glade, surrounded mostly by trees. It was grassy and filled with wildflowers. With songbirds twittering and a gentle breeze cooling it against the sun, it was almost as if God has dropped a little chunk of heaven right in our laps. Off from the trail was an opening in the trees that afforded us with a beautiful view of the valley below. We could even see the old tobacco barn near Mama Polly's old place.

"Wow, this is beautiful, Mom." I said. I turned to see her pulling an old quilt out of the picnic basket. I was surprised to see it -- it was one of Mom's most treasure items, a homemade quilt made and given to her by Mama Polly. She shook it out and laid it on the grass.

Mom knelt down on it and held out her hand to me. "Come sit with me, son." I sat down beside her and then was pleasantly surprised when Mom urged me to lay my head in her lap. I cannot tell you how enjoyable it was to rest my head on Mom's soft thighs, Mom's loving face looking down at me while she stroked my hair.

"This is kind of tough for me, John, so bear with me." Mom giggled nervously, like a child in trouble. "It's silly, I know, considering what has happened to you and me, but still, this isn't easy to talk about, so thank you for being so patient since Christmas."

Mom took a deep breath and began. "You already know about Debbie and myself. We've been lovers since we were teenagers. You know that I had a reputation as a bit of a slut when I was younger." Mom stopped and grinning added, "And it was a reputation that was absolutely true."

Mom reached out and stroked my face, "And, I imagine you've already figured out that Daddy and I were lovers." I nodded slowly. Mom went on, her face intense with a mix of arousal and wistfulness. "I wanted Daddy from the moment I first watched him make love to his mother. I wanted his cock inside me with every fiber of my being and he knew it too -- long before we ever spoke of it. It wasn't just lust -- it was love. I was in love with my father, just as I'm in love with you now. On a spring day just after I turned eighteen, Daddy and I had a picnic up here, right where we are, son. On that wonderful day, I gave Daddy my virginity."

Mom looked at me carefully to see if I was shocked or upset. I wasn't -- as she had said, I'd put what had been said and unsaid together and it didn't bother me at all. If anyone could understand the joy and happiness that incestuous love can bring it was me. Knowing Mom had known that joy before we became lovers made me happy -- it made me feel better knowing that before Mom endured years with my cold father, that she had already experienced a passionate love.

Mom dropped her hand to the quilt and ran her fingertips over a slightly reddish-pinkish spot, faded with age. "The blood never quite came out," Mom murmured. She looked at me and said, "My daddy took my cherry right here in this spot and on this quilt." Mom's voice quavered as she said, "This place is very special to me. Daddy and I shared many wonderful moments here together that I cherish. I want to share this place with you, now and forever, son."

Silence hung in the air for several seconds, the sexual tension thick between us. "Please, John, help your mother make some new memories."

And then we were kissing, passionately, excitedly. We tugged and pulled at each others clothes as we kissed, our tongues urgently intertwining and caressing. I tugged Mom's dress down, revealing her meaty breasts, nipples swollen, thick and throbbing. My hands were drawn to them, kneading and squeezing her lush tit-flesh. We stood up, our lips never parting and Mom quickly unzipped me and pushed my jeans and shorts down. We finally broke the kiss as Mom shed her dress and I pulled off my shirt and stepped out of my jeans pooled at my feet. I kissed my way down Mom's lush body, nuzzling and nibbling her nipples and then licking my way down across her belly, teasing and making her squirm and giggle as I tongued her belly button.

Once more, I savored the feel of her heavy, thick bush against my face as I kissed my way into her pussy, using my fingers to spread her thick, long lips to reveal her aroused, steamy pink flesh. Mom's fingers tightened in my hair as she urged me to press my face firmly against her wet twat. The sweet, ravenous hunger that I had for my mother flared up and I pulled her down onto the quilt, spreading her out before me, an offering to the incestuous desires of our love.

I moved between Mom's wide spread legs, trailing my fingers up her inner thighs and then under to cup and lift her ass cheeks, rotating Mom's mound up slightly to bring it into alignment with my body. My cock was so hard it slapped angrily against my belly and as I moved upwards, nearing her hairy mound, I had to reach down and position my cock to place it in Mom's sopping wet flesh.

Mom arched her back, throwing herself into me, impaling herself on my erect and swollen penis as I began to slowly plunge into her hungry cunt. "Yessss, soooo sweet, John! Give Momma that fine dick, son!" Mom pulled her knees back and wide, opening herself up to me as I sank forward, my body coming to rest lightly on her soft, pillow-like breasts, kissing my mother as I began to piston my cock in and out.

In the warmth of the June sun, we both began to quickly sweat from our passionate exertions, making our bodies, both slick and sticky at the same time. It felt so good to have Mom's breasts, slippery with sweat, slide up and down against my chest, her rubbery nipples, hard and swollen, dragging against my flesh. Sweat ran down Mom's face and I licked it off happily, enjoying the taste that was so uniquely my mother's. Mom's pussy was sopping wet with liquid fire, her silky, creamy pussy juice coating my cock, bathing it in sweet, incestuous oils as I plunged in and out of her pussy.

Mom had no inhibitions out here in a place that was so special and sacred to her, screaming out her pleasure as I fucked her. It was a passionate, carnal fuck and I understood now why Mom had made us wait to make love. A day's restraint added new urgency and power to our mother and son lovemaking. Our need was more vibrant, possessing more sexual energy than I would have expected. There was almost a divine aspect to it, we were worshippers in the Temple of Incest, caught up in a religious fervor.

Even though we were both absorbed in the moment, totally devoted to the pleasure of each other, there grew in both of us an awareness, a sense of others, as if we were being watched. Even as we would both frantically and quickly glance around to see who was observing us, before returning our focus to the ultimate joy of mother and son joined cock and pussy, we did not see anyone, but still we knew someone or something was there.

Mom intuited it first and acknowledged it first. "Are you watching, Daddy? Can you see it, Daddy -- Mama Polly? My son is fucking me, Daddy -- just as you fucked your Momma," Mom moaned and sobbed as I thrust my cock into her again and again. "He's wonderful, Daddy! I love my son fucking me! He makes me happy just like you made Mama Polly happy with your big cock!"

I was speechless, partly from hearing Mom talk like this, but also out of awe, because Mom was right. I never met my grandfather and knew Mama Polly only when I was a child, but I felt them -- they were with us, watching a son fucking his mother. They were there in more than spirit, observing, encouraging us, offering us their blessing.

I suddenly knew that if I rolled my hips just a little differently, like so... "Oh God!" Mom moaned, her eyes widening in surprise. I knew that Grandpa Tom had just guided me -- that that little movement was something he'd discovered about Mom many years ago and that to my dying day I would never forget when pleasuring my mother.

Time seemed to slow to nothing on that warm summer day and Mom and I seemed to make love for what seemed like an eternity of sweet, incestuous bliss. We carried on a sacred family tradition until finally Mom's creamy and hot pussy was too much for me and I gasped, "Oh god, Mom! I'm gonna cum -- gonna cum big inside you, Mom!"

Mom's pussy wrapped itself tightly around me, holding off my orgasm for the seconds it would take for Mom to catch up with me, then as the warmth of her slick cunt exploded into furnace heat and bathed me in her incestuous cream, I lost control and flooded Mom's womb with my seed. We embraced tightly as we hunched into each other, cumming and cumming. My cock sprayed wad after wad of semen in Mom's pussy as she screamed, her hands cupping my ass cheeks, pulling me tighter and tighter against her mound.

Tears of incestuous joy rolled down Mom's face as she pulled me close and kissed me over and over. "I love you, I love you, I love you, son," Mom panted over and over. I was rendered speechless, so powerful was our lovemaking and I could only kiss Mom back as we slowly came down from our incredible orgasm.

In the afterglow, we cuddled, talking quietly in that lovely little glade. Mom told me of her love affair with her father and how for a little over a year, they became drunk on each other. Mom confirmed my suspicion that Aunt Debbie also was Grandpa Tom's lover, but that it was with Mom and separately with Mama Polly, that my grandfather shared his heart. I held Mom tightly as she tearfully recounted her father's early passing.

Grandpa Tom had been a strong and healthy man -- a full time coal miner and part time farmer, but for all his strength and love, he had been taken quickly with an aggressive form of bone cancer that late 1950's medicine couldn't combat. It was only then, after Mom had helped Mama Polly care for and bury Grandpa Tom that she had left this place that she loved so well.

Holding Mom in my arms, I let her cry her old grief out and then vowed to her that we would make this place of her grandmother's come alive again -- make it a celebration of life and love as she remembered it. We sealed our vow with another bout of lovemaking, this time slow and tender, the only sounds beyond the rustle of the breeze and the birds singing, being Mom's slow, breathy sighs as I brought her to orgasm twice before giving her another load of my semen.

At one point as we lay, basking in the glow of our love, I asked Mom, "Having grown up with these experiences, Mom, why were you so hesitant for us to become lovers? I know you knew how I felt about you, even before Christmas."

Mom shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, baby. It's always hard taking that first big step. Risking your heart is very tough. I was lucky enough to have known real love once in my life. Even though I thought I knew how you felt about your old mother, I could barely believe that I was going to get lucky in love a second time."

"But I am lucky -- I have you, sweetheart and I'm so happy." Mom yawned and cuddled up closer in my arms. "I love you so much," Mom said in a sleepy voice.

Naked and in each other's arms, we fell asleep then, taking a restful nap, safe as we slept, watched over by the spirits of Grandpa Tom and Mama Polly. We woke, feeling well rested and had our picnic in our lover's glade and spent the rest of the day walking around the property, going over Mama Polly's house and talking excitedly about how we would someday set up housekeeping in this wonderful place like a couple of newlyweds.

#

We spent the evening in our hotel room, again making love, missing that nice brass bed from the other night, but still making enough noise to draw complaints from the adjoining rooms. We woke up late in the morning, pleasantly tired from our lusty lovemaking. We spent the day touring quaint old antique stores in the area, Mom loving to find odd bits of this and that amongst the clutter, especially little jewelry pins and broaches.

As the day came to a close, I found a little angel broach that reminded me of Mom in Chicago making her snow angels in the park after the blizzard. I showed it to Mom and she cooed happily over it. As my reward, I got a cock-hardening kiss that seemed to go on and on, drawing all sorts of looks from other tourists passing through. Beaming proudly, with Mom on my arm, we took the pin up to the sales station to pay for it.

As the sales lady rang us up, she kept looking oddly at Mom, finally peering over her glasses and saying, "Carrie -- is that you, sugar?"

Mom cocked her head and stared back. Her eyes went wide with sudden recognition and in a shocked filled voice replied, "Emma? Emma Johnson, is that really you?"

I watched with some curiosity as the woman scurried around from behind the counter and embraced Mom. From their excited chatter over the next minute or so, I figured out that this lady and Mom were childhood friends. I assumed she was about the same age as Mom, a little woman, barely five feet tall with a pleasingly round, butterball figure and light brown and gray hair.

Mom finally turned to me and said, "John, this is Emma Johnson. She and I were friends all through school. We sat on the bus together everyday." Mom stepped over and put her arm through mine and said, "Emma, I'd like to introduce you to my son, John"

There was an awkward pause for a moment as both Emma Johnson and I stared in surprise at Mom. There could have been no way Mom's old friend hadn't seen us kissing like the lovers we were and I would never have thought Mom would be so brazen about our relationship with someone else we knew except for Aunt Debbie. Mom for her part stared back at both of us, her face a mixture of pride and defiance. Once more, I was in awe of the deep resolve and strength that dwelled with my mother.

Emma finally broke into a mischievous grin and she shook her head, "Same old Carrie, I see, nothing's changed."

Mom replied, "You'd be surprised, Emma, I sort of lost my way, but I'm finding myself again." She squeezed my arm. "John and I are very happy."

Her friend nodded and her grin turned into a big smile. "I can see that, sugar. Well, I'm happy for you. I know your daddy would have approved." She stepped up and hugged Mom again. I could barely hear her whisper into Mom's ear, "Good for you, Carrie. I'm glad you're happy."

Mom and her friend chatted for a few more minutes, catching up on others from older times. I was under the impression that not many folks were still around from the old days. Emma told Mom that she was still with her Bill and that both their daughters were off in college and doing well. Mom told her friend that maybe soon, they could get together and visit more. "I'm hoping that within the next couple of years, we will be moving back. We're going to fix up Mama Polly's place and settle down here."

That seemed to delight Mom's old friend and as we left, she called out, "Hey Carrie, if you and your son are still around on Sunday, come out to the old church. We'd love to have you visit. Old Reverend Simmons still attends and I know he'd he'd love to see you."

Mom grinned and to my surprise, she blushed. "Maybe we will, Emma. If we don't make it, give Bill and Reverend Simmons my best."