Resurrection

I swallowed and said, "I was so hard, Mom. I think it was the first time I'd had an erection because of you specifically and I didn't really know what I was doing, but I rubbed my dick and stroked it and then I came for the first time. The first time I shot a load of sperm, I was thinking of you, Mom."

Mom just stared for what seemed forever and then she walked shakily back to the couch and sat down, breathing heavy and then after letting out a long sigh, said, "Love and lust coming together for the first time." She stopped and studied me. "But not for the last time." It wasn't a question, but a simple statement of fact.

"No, Mom – it was just the beginning for me. I've always had this special feeling for you. I had my crushes and loves – Ramona, Terri, Cassie and Lisa, but I never stopped loving you and dreaming of us..."

I stopped speaking as Mom slowly shook her head. "All those years and I never had any idea. I knew we were close – that you loved me a lot, but not like that." Mom looked at me and there were tears in her eyes and a look of confusion. She opened her mouth to speak again, but all she could say was, "I never had a clue."

We sat there in silence as the baseball game played on, the only sounds being our breathing and for me anyway, the drumming beat of my own heart. Finally, I began to apologize again, but Mom held up her hand – an old gesture of hers for, "Shut the hell up!" Silence reigned for what seemed an eternity. Mom again studied me...for what I don't know. Then she looked down at the carpet again as if in contemplation.

"I've read your stories, John." Mom said suddenly. She was again looking at me. Again, I felt a wave of dizziness sweep over me – the idea of my mother reading my incestuous writings filling me with horror and wonder.

"My stories?" I replied, feeling numb.

Mom nodded and said, "Yes, your stories – at least all that are on that Literotica place on the internet. After everything that happened and you were locked up, I wanted so much to understand it all and so I looked them up and read them...all of them."

"Oh my God," I whispered. Images from so many stories raced through my mind – images of Mom re-imagined as a wanton slut for her son – images of Mom engaged in every sort of sexual act with me and with other women – images of Mom begging me to make her pregnant. Even in the stories of mother-son incest where there was no physical resemblance to Mom, her spirit inhabited each of those characters.

Mom began to speak, paused, a small smile emerging on her face as she finally said, "You certainly can write. I couldn't believe how vivid your descriptions were. You certainly seemed able to describe my body in detail." A scolding frown crossed her face. "Just how many times have you seen me naked?"

I started to laugh, but wasn't sure if Mom was trying to be humorous or not. "Um, I don't know – I guess over my teenage years, maybe a dozen times – mostly glimpses."

Mom arched an eyebrow. "Mostly glimpses?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I came home early from school one time my senior year and you were sun-tanning naked on the patio. I was um, real quiet and you never knew I was there."

Mom laughed – a happy laugh that seemed to take a lot of tension out of her. "Oh Christ! I can't believe you did that! How long did you peek at me? Did you masturbate while you spying on me?"

"Uh, yeah, I did – twice in fact. You were asleep I guess. I must have watched you for at least an hour."

Mom nodded to herself. "Well, I guess that explains how you can describe me so well." She stopped again as if collecting her thoughts. "And the sex...you write so graphically and so intensely. I never imagined anyone writing about making love or just fucking so precisely and getting the sensations so dead on accurate."

Mom looked at me sharply. "And why do you write so much from the mother's point of view – from my point of view?"

I felt my face burn anew and some small part of my brain wondered just how hard a man could blush and not die. It took a bit of time for me to answer. How to put what I felt into words? Finally, "Mom, I guess I like to write from your point of view because..." I took a deep breath. "Because imagining you so head over heels in love with me, imagining you wanting me as both son and lover, imagining you cumming with my um, cock buried inside of you is the most erotic thing I can imagine."

Mom's face seemed to lose all color for a moment and then quickly turned a bright shade of red again as she processed my answer and after long minutes of thinking about it, could only reply with a quiet, "Oh."

More minutes passed. The ballgame ended and was replaced by some old comedy show rerun. People ran around in seemingly helter-skelter fashion on the screen, reflecting my churning emotions. Mom finally spoke up again. "This is going to sound weird, but you really write with a lot of passion. It was so strange reading these stories and knowing that you were really writing about me – so intensely sexual and yet loving, almost like you were worshipping me in some lewd and erotic way."

I nodded and bravely offered up, "Yes, worshipping you is something the writing represented. In a way you are my religion, Mom. Mostly, I guess my stories were meant to be love letters you were never meant to see."

Mom closed her eyes and sighed. "Love letters. Love letters from a son to his mother." Mom laughed again – the laughter more bitter than before. "Love letters you couldn't show me, but the rest of the world got to read."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I suppose I should have kept them private – never putting them on the net, but...I couldn't tell you how I felt, but I wanted – I've always wanted to tell the whole world how wonderful you are and how much I loved you and how much I wanted you."

I didn't realize until I said the words aloud how badly I wanted to say it – how badly I had always wanted Mom to know how I felt. I was amazed at the sudden sensation of a burden lifted from my heart. If Mom told me to leave this very instant, I could live with it – at least I could leave knowing she knew how I truly felt.

Mom shivered again and she let go with another sigh – this one more passionate and one that seemed to draw the tension back into the room. She closed her eyes again as if trying to pay no heed to the emotion thickening in the room. "Well, I suppose you got your message across. I read the readers' comments – they really liked your stories."

My turn to laugh as I responded, "Well, some of them did. Some people thought I was a no talented pervert-slash-creep!"

Mom frowned. "Now that's not true," she responded. "Most of the people who made comments seem to love your writing. They thought it was erotic and nasty in a good way and romantic." I looked at my mother in amazement. It was almost as if she were taking pride in how people had liked my work.

Mom gazed at me steadily, her gaze resolutely meeting mine. "I read your stories, John. I've read them over and over again and son, your readers are right. Your stories are erotic and nasty and so romantic!"

I rocked back in my seat, feeling like I'd been smacked with a baseball bat. "Mom?" I gasped.

"John, I've been trying to understand you and all this since you were arrested. I went online and read your stories and I couldn't believe how they made me feel! Even now I feel scared and confused, but god help me, reading about Carrie and John or any of the others, fucking with abandon, losing themselves in each other's sweat and flesh and cum, from the first, John, from the fir..." Mom's voice broke and she let out a sob and I leapt to my feet, but Mom held up her hand to stop me.

Mom regained control and continued in a halting voice. "From the first, son, as I read your stories, they did something to me. I've never been so excited, so turned on as I was reading about your mothers and sons – no, about you and me fucking and loving each other so completely." Mom smiled up at me – love and desire now dominating her expression – looks I'd never dreamed I'd actually see – at least directed at myself. "For close to two years, John, I've read your stories over and over, playing with myself, making myself orgasm to your words...imagining it was you making me moan and cum and until today I never truly understanding that it was you making me cum."

"Mom, what are you saying?" I almost sobbed – my voice husky with emotion.

Mom's hands slipped up shakily to the top buttons at her neck. "I'm not sure, son. I've tried to imagine this moment for months. I guess I'm saying..." Mom paused and swallowed and summoned up a come hither smile as she began unbuttoning her housedress. "I guess I'm saying, would my son like to see his mother's breasts again?"

I took a hesitant step towards my mother as she undid button after button until her bra encased breasts were exposed. Mom paused in unbuttoning her dress and spread the dress wide, exposing her chest – her cream colored heavy duty bra seeming to barely be restraining her meaty breasts which were heaving with the excitement of the moment. "Well, John – do you want to see Mommy's titties again?"

"Oh yes!" I moaned, taking steps towards Mom, not believing this was really happening as I sank to my knees before my mother.

Mom smiled lovingly at me as her hand fluttered about her bra – then with an almost unseen flick of her hand, she undid the front loading bra and the cups sprang apart and Mom's heavy breasts fell free. Mom's tits were enormous – larger than in my youth as over the years, Mom's weight had increased a bit. Their size had yielded somewhat to gravity and they sloped entrancingly like two large gourds on her chest, capped by thick, nickel sized brown nipples, now erect and pulsing with excitement. A hint of last year's tan line revealed the skimpiness of her swimsuit.

Mom's breasts were gorgeous and I stared at them with love and an almost religious awe and was so transfixed in their presence that I almost didn't hear Mom say softly, "Go ahead, son – touch them – kiss them if you want."

One second I was staring at my mother's tits and then my hands were full of her soft, warm flesh and my face was buried in her cleavage, inhaling the sweet aroma of Mom's skin – sweat and perfume and something else...something almost indescribable but which made my stiff and aching cock pulse with need.

I kneaded Mom's breasts – squeezed and caressed, teasing stiff, rubbery nipples with my fingers before my mouth discovered them and I felt more than heard Mom's low groans and I ran my tongue over her nipples, tasting and licking and sucking and then feeling gratified as Mom gave a loud gasp of pleasure when I nipped at the blood engorged tips with my teeth. Somehow I had always known my mother liked having her nipples bitten and now my suspicions were proved correct.

As I nibbled on Mom's tits, my hands roamed over them as well and then upwards to her shoulders, pushing her housedress off and at the thought of Mom's bare shoulders, I slowly began to kiss my way upwards, running my tongue along the valley of her cleavage and then kissing her upper chest – now covered in a sexual flush while my hands returned to caress her meaty breasts. I kissed my way along her naked shoulder until I reached Mom's neck which I kissed and nibbled until finally I rose up to face Mom – our lips, noses and eyes as close as could be without touching.

We seemed surrounded by utter silence as if the moment were too holy to be profaned with the spoken word. I saw hungry permission in Mom's eyes and fulfilled a lifetime dream as I leaned forward and pressed my open lips against Mom's mouth. Her tongue was waiting to greet mine and again my cock throbbed as for the first time I experienced the sacred thrill of French-kissing my mother for the first time.

I felt the sudden need to cum – almost exploding into orgasm as Mom's tongue curled around mine – its heat and wetness and eagerness representing Mom's newly revealed desires all by itself. We both kept our eyes open – seeing the need and love we had for each other reflected as we kissed and kissed and kissed. A part of me realized that if nothing else happened – that if Mom changed her mind, I would still die a happy man.

The kiss seemed to last nearly forever – ending only when Mom gently pushed me away. I leaned back on my knees to gaze of the erotic sight of my mother, a silly grin on her lovely face and her chest heaving mightily as she whispered huskily. "I dreamed about that, but never imagined it would be so...so..."

"Good?" I supplied, surprised by the giddiness in my voice. "The best kiss I ever had, Mom!"

She grinned and replied, "Me too, but I'm guessing we can do even better!" She licked her lips and took a deep breath and then continued. "But first, I was thinking, maybe my son would like to get another peek at Mommy's pussy?" Her hands fluttered down and pulled her housedress away from her lap and thighs, revealing her slightly meaty thighs. She spread her legs to show me plain, white cotton panties opaquely concealing a dark shadow between her legs.

I groaned as I realized that in the center of her crotch was a large and visible wet spot – teasingly making the cotton material almost but not quite transparent. I shivered as I struggled to maintain control over my aching cock. I ask you, what son wouldn't struggle to not cum at the vision of his mother wet with arousal...wet because of him?

"John, why don't you take my panties off for me?" Mom said in a breathless voice. I didn't hesitate for a moment, moving in and slipping my hands under the elastic waistband of my mother's panties. Mom lifted herself up as I slowly pulled them off of her, drawing her legs back together as I eased back, my gaze torn between seeing my heart's dream between her thighs and admiring the womanly curves of her legs.

When I had her panties in my hands, almost absently, I brought them to my face and inhaled Mom's lush scent as I had so many times in my youth with her undergarments swiped from the hamper. Mom's strong scent of sex made my head swim and my blood course through my body with a new urgency.

Then almost shyly yet teasingly, Mom slowly spread her legs again and I heard myself sigh, "Mom, I love you" as I beheld fully the glory of my mother's hairy cunt. Between Mom's luscious thighs nestled a thick, black pelt of hair – curly and glistening with her arousal and with two thick lips blossoming out from it like a lush lily from the fertile earth.

I don't remember moving. Suddenly I had my face buried in Mom's furry muff, reveling in the feel of Mom's bush tickling my face – soft yet scratchy as I inhaled her scent from the source – so strong I could taste it as well as smell it. I nuzzled and rubbed my mouth against Mom's hairy pussy, my movements becoming more forceful and needy with each passing second. My nose and lips found slick and wet flesh and her labia spread and parted and my tongue was delving deep into my mother's pussy and I sobbed with happiness as I tasted the sweet nectar of Mom's love cream for the first time.

Mom's body quivered violently – seemingly all around me as she drew her thighs in, trapping my face between her legs – I felt her feet cross and come to rest on my back and my muffled ears still heard a plaintive cry as I fed my long denied hunger for the place of my birth. I felt Mom's fingers intertwine in my hair as I lapped and kissed her wet cunt, drinking her heavily flowing juices like a man dying of thirst.

I explored Mom's pussy with my mouth, blindly discovered the delightful shape of her cunt lips with my tongue and then exploring until I found her clitoris, a long and swollen thing emerging from its hood to be kissed and gently caressed as Mom bucked her pelvis against my face. Her flood of cunt cream became a raging torrent – splattering my mouth and face with her juices as Mom screamed out her pleasure again and again as I licking and sucked and kissed her until my face was raw and my jaws ached pleasurably. I thrilled in the knowledge that Mom was having her first orgasm from my actual touch and the only lack of joy was from the idle thoughts of wishing I could have seen Mom orgasm the first time she had read one of my stories.

Finally, I felt Mom go limp – her legs falling away from me allowing me to hear her feeble gasps for breath. With regret I fell back myself, face dripping with Mom's love juices only to have my breath taken away by the vision before me. Mom naked – her short, black and pepper hair wet – her body gleaming with fuck sweat – meaty breasts heaving and rolling with each breath she took – nipples so painfully swollen they looked ready to burst and legs spread wide, her pussy lips spread wide revealing her gleaming wet flesh.

A more erotic sight I had never before seen and I am not ashamed to say that the sight of my mother still in the throes of a son induced orgasm was more than I could take and with a sob of joy, I exploded in my pants! I shook and quaked as I struggled to stay on my knees as I shot jet after jet of hot sperm in my shorts, feeling my hot gooey seed spreading around my groin., gasping, "MOM! Mom, I love you!" as I had a sweet Mom induced orgasm of my own.

Mom's eyes grew wide as she realized what had happened and she struggled to sit up, saying, "Baby – John...did you...? Oh, son – did I do that to you?"

My joy began to mix with regret as I fully understood what had happened and I said, "Mom – I'm so sorry, I...I didn't mean to..."

Mom flew off the couch laughing and babbling as she pushed me off balance and onto my back. "Oh, John. Did Mommy being all nasty make you cum?" She began scrabbling at my belt and zipper. "Did you fill your shorts with hot jizz, son? I have to see that"

My shoes and socks went flying and then Mom was tugging off my slacks, a great eager grin on her face and hunger in her eyes. Roughly she yanked at my shorts, pulling them off me and then she drew up short, kneeling there between my legs. Here gaze locked onto my now naked crotch – my still mostly erect penis smeared with my sperm, thick white blobs splattered on the head and smeared along the shaft with other big drops of my seed splattered in my pubic hair.

Mom gazed longingly down at my cock for a long time and then looked into my eyes, a fiery expression on her face that promised so many forbidden things. Then Mom held up my briefs and peered at the globs of semen splattered and smeared on the cotton fabric. As if imitating my earlier actions, Mom brought my underwear to her face, inhaling deeply before saying. "I almost forgot what a man really smells like," she sighed. Mom gave me a sideways glance and grinned as she added, "And what he tastes like!"

I groaned and my slowly shrinking cock suddenly jerked with excitement as I watched my mother act as lewdly as any of my fictional mothers as her tongue snaked out and lapped up a thick blob of my semen from my shorts. Mom closed her eyes as she let my seed rest on her extended tongue for several seconds as if savoring the taste before she swallowed it. Opening her eyes, Mom moaned and whispered. "Better than I ever dreamed, John. I want more!"

Mom dropped between my legs, taking my recovering cock in her hands, smearing her fingers with my sperm and cooing to herself in delight at the amount of jizzum I had shot. Holding my cock within tongue's reach, Mom looked up at me and said, "I haven't had a lot of experience with sucking cock, baby, I hope Mommy doesn't disappoint!"

Believe me, Mom didn't. Enthusiasm made up for inexperience and I was transported to a level of pleasure I'd never known before as Mom took me into her mouth and began sucking and licking me – cleaning me of my spent juice. I groaned as my sensitive flesh was scoured clean by Mom's warm, loving tongue. Mom's eyes stayed on my face, only closing when she made moans of contented joy as she ate my sperm.