Would You? Reduxbydinkleberry©
Edited by freakcutout Girl (Get Well Soon, my friend)
[ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to real or other fictional characters is coincidence and unintentional.]
Entering the cathedral, I was thankful it was dimly lit and appeared to be empty. Dipping my fingertips into the holy water at the entrance, I was relieved it didn't burn my sinful fingers. As I drew the sign of the cross on my body, I waited for the lightning to smite me.
When it didn't, I headed as anonymously as possible towards the confessional booth. Again I was thankful no one was nearby or waiting. I quickly ducked under the curtain and knelt down on the padded kneeler. I made the sign of cross and then interlacing my fingers, rested my elbows on the ledge on the closed confessional window. The only light entering was the dim light sneaking around the curtain.
As I waited, my depravities and debaucheries coursed through me and I trembled with fear. In my mind, I tried to prepare what I was going to say. Over and over, I practiced different ways to say what blackened my heart. As I waited kneeling, I could smell the holy incense and that helped to reassure my tortured soul. Yet when I heard the hushed voices of whispers just outside the confessional booth, I almost bolted. Then the voices left and I was again alone with my blackness.
Finally, the solid gate blocking the grille slid open. The priest made the sign of the cross before me and I hurriedly remembered to follow. I tried to peer through the ornate brass grill to see if I recognized the Father who was about to take my confession. He presented only his side profile to me and was sitting back in his chair. I gratefully couldn't make out his features. He just calmly sat there; I tried to remember what the heck am I supposed to do.
"Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been..." and I paused. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been to church, much less confession, "...it's been too long since my last confession. I have committed horrible sins. Oh God, so many of them." Then I didn't know what to say next. All words escaped me. I knelt there stupidly, open-mouthed, wordless.
"It's ok my child. Just start at the beginning and God will hear your words. Confess what burdens your heart and God will forgive you."
"Somehow I doubt that," I said before even realizing my lips were moving.
"There is forgiveness for everyone my son, please tell me what is bothering you. You do not have to be formal, just tell me a story..."
"John, after dinner I want to talk to you," my mother said from the stove as she cooked dinner.
"Umm, yeah sure," I answered as I sat at the kitchen table sorta playing Angry Birds. I say sorta because I was also kinda checking out my mom as she cooked. As always, she looked dynamite. For a woman, my mother was tall at 5'9", yet wonderfully that didn't prevent her from wearing heels. Tonight, she was still in her work attire. I covertly admired her form over my cellphone. She was wearing a pair of dark brown crushed leather boots that folded over at the ankle to revel its inner suede cuff. I'd have guessed that her tall thin heels were at least three inches.
Tucked inside her boots was a pair of straight-leg jeans. While my mother is tall, she is pleasingly thin and proud of it as it comes from her regularly exercising. Her dark blue jeans hugged her legs closely and sculpted her ass nicely. In some bizarre woman thing, I've overheard her complain on the phone to friends how she "has no ass." I wish I had the audacity to correct her because to me she had a perfect ass. Sure she didn't have 'junk in the trunk' or a badonkadonk, but I didn't like girls with a big (__|__) ass. To me a tiny hiney or tight (_|_) ass was perfect for me. In her jeans, mom's ass looked like two halves of a small cantaloupe sculpted into her.
As my eyes continued to travel upwards, I took in that she had fashionably matched her belt with her boots and that her light tan blouse was loosely tucked into her pants. Her blouse was cut tight and clung to her like a sheath. With it being of a thin semi-sheer material, as she moved about I could see her bra beneath her blouse. I wondered if my eyes were deceiving me; it seemed she was wearing a dark blue bra beneath her shimmering satin blouse. When she turned to face the stove, she blessed me with her enchanting side profile. I drank in how from the side her physique was thin with only small curves until reaching her chest. Here, her hills thrust out from her body.
If you are wondering how this possible, it is because as my mother has sometimes joked with her friends, she's "a stick with tits." Mom has breast implants and for that, I couldn't be more appreciative. For years, I've desired those tits and have dreamt about them. I'd hide in the shadows of a window whenever I saw mom outside in a bathing suit. Throughout the years, I must have imagined a thousand different ways of how I would seduce my mother. While those fantasizes produced ample fodder to masturbate to, none seemed absolutely guaranteed of success. As a result, I never had the courage to attempt any of them. Still those tits haunted me.
Sixteen years ago, or when I was three, she had lost all the baby weight and added size. She had returned to a 32A. Unhappy with her bust size after enjoying her increased size after birthing two children, mom got her first surgery done. She got a set 275cc implants, which bumped her up to a small C. However three years later, she had them replaced with 350cc implants and she was a full C. Two years ago, she had surgery to have the implants replaced with new ones of the same size (which is common after 10 years.) I was hoping to be the one nurse her back to health after her surgery. However going up to New York City for the surgery, she stayed at her sister's for two weeks. My no-fun older sister and I were left home alone. [If you are wondering how I know all this -- it's because like the NSA, I'm an expert at spying and have put all my skills to learning all I can about my mom.]
Still, I wondered what my mother could want to talk to me about. At 19, I'm mostly past the fucking up stage. Her tone and her body language gave me no clue. I tried to think if I had done anything wrong lately and couldn't think of any major blunders. As I continued to admire mom's magnificent tits, I mentally ran through everything I did over the last few days and could think of nothing she could be upset at me about.
It was then I realized she was looking at me. Pulling my eyes from her tits, I looked into her dark brown eyes. She smiled at me and my heart melted. Mom has a heart-shaped face with a petite chin and jaw that perfectly frames her yummy lips. She has lovely cheekbones that lead to those bright, seemingly all-seeing brown eyes that appear even more vivid in contrast to her short spiky golden blonde hair.
Brown eyes with golden blonde hair, you wonder. Yes, it comes from a bottle. For the first 15 years of my life, I knew my mother as a longhaired brunette. Then one day she came home a shorthaired blonde and we all wondered who is this women. She explained to my sister, as I listened, that it is easier for her to hide the grey hairs if she just dyed them all blonde. As to cutting her previously long locks, she explained it was time for something new. With her being as active as she is, it's easier for her to maintain a short 'do.
Now after four years, I'm more used to seeing my mom as a blonde than when I look at pictures and see her a brunette. Although I must admit that I find it even sexier when her dark brown roots start sprouting from beneath those blonde spikes. I've also desired to run my hands over the shorter buzz she keeps her sides and back; and I laughed.
"Hey mom, remember when I photo-shopped you with a mullet?" I jokingly reminded her.
"How could I forget? You and your sister emailed it to every family member. I should've beaten both of your asses for that." She laughed.
"Now put your phone away and wash up, dinner's ready." Being a dutiful son, I followed her wishes. We ate a dinner of chicken cutlets, yellow rice with gandules, and a tossed salad; and our dinner conversation still gave me no hint of what my mother wanted to talk to me about. She asked me questions about how my college classes were going and I asked her about her job; basically it was the usual dinner fare.
After dinner, I stood at the sink washing the pots and pans as mom stood perpendicular to me and dried them; again our usual routine.
"John, I want to talk to you about the way you look at me," she started as I handed her the freshly scrubbed rice pot. My heart lurched and I thought, 'Oh shit!'
"John, I've been aware of the way you look at me for a while..." and I just froze in front of the sink. I blankly stared out the window over the sink, afraid to do anything. Yet bizarrely, my cock was becoming aroused.
"...and I didn't say anything about it because I didn't know what to say," she continued.
"Oh god mom, I'm so sorry. I am. I mean... I mean... I..." fumbled for words, "God mom, I know I shouldn't. I just thought you didn't know," I burned with shame and continued to stare out the window.
And she laughed! "John, how could I not know? There are times you blank-out when I walk into a room," she laughed.
"John, please face me," she pleaded and I turned to face her. She placed her hand on my cheek and I burned at her touch, my cock hardening.
"Sweetie, it's as much my fault. I've enjoyed being oogled by such a handsome young man. I know it's wrong but I've enjoyed being appreciated by someone as cute as you..." and her hand slid along my cheek to rest on my jaw, "...I wish others would look at me like you do. Instead they only see the old woman I've become." I thought I saw my mom on the verge of tears and that infuriated me because at 43, she was far from old.
Chivalry took hold of me. I gently took her wrist within both of my hands and placed her hand upon my chest. "Mom, you are not old. And I don't know what others see because you are beautiful."
"You say that to cheer me up because I'm your mother."
"Mom, do you know how crazy I feel when my friends say you are a MILF. Part of me is proud and part of me wants to punch them out."
"What's a MILF?" she naively wondered
"It's a Mother I'd Like to..." and I realized what I was about to say. "Anyway, mom you are extremely attractive. I wished I had a girlfriend as hot as you are."
"So you would be willing to have sex with me if I asked?" she wonderingly inquired.
"If someone as beautiful as you asked me, of course my answer would be yes --without a hesitation," I retorted.
"Would you?" my mother bluntly asked. Then like Windows Vista, at the most important and vital moment, my operating system froze up and then crashed. I just stood there mute. HUH?! Was she serious?
"Forget I asked," she quickly uttered and made to hurry out the kitchen. Knowing I had to save this maybe only ever chance, I manually over-rode the system. My arm shot out and blocked her escape.
"No mom, I want to," but she put her hands on me as if to push me out of the way.
"I should've known no young man would want an old bag like me," and she was on the verge of tears.
I knew I had to do something drastic to save this, possibly my only ever opportunity. Cupping her shoulders with my hands, I looked into my mother's face and confessed, "Mom, I've wanted you for so long. I've wanted to make love to you since my first hard-on. Mom, it's you I think of when I jerk-off at night. It's you that I want. Why do you think I stare at you."
She looked at me both curiously and skeptically. "Please mom, let me have sex with you. I can make you happy." At first mom didn't say anything. When she opened her mouth to say something I knew it wasn't an emphatic no. Before she could say anything, I kissed her like every son wishes to kiss his mom.
At first, she did nothing. Then she gave in, kissing me back. As we kissed, mom wrapped her arms around me, loosely hugging me. Breaking that first kiss, I pulled her into my arms. Holding her tight, I kissed her again with more force and passion. Mom's response was to open her mouth and her tongue began tickling my lips. I was instantly harder than ever before.
Opening my mouth, her tongue entered. I dropped my hands lower, cupping my mother's ass-cheeks. I lifted up and in, pressing her against my powerful erection. I felt her tits pressing on my chest and I knew what Heaven was. I couldn't believe it but my mother grinded against my raging member. In my mouth, she let out a moan of ecstasy. I almost came on the spot.
Breaking our lip-lock, my fantasy looked at me and softly, sinfully wondered, "You really wanna do this?"
"God yes," I pleaded and pressed my lips back against those sultry lips. Within a second, my mother's tongue was back in my mouth probing, exploring. I held tight to that tiny hiney I had fantasized about oh so many times. She resumed grinding on my ready to explode cock. My mind swelled with delight. I became so light-headed, I was afraid I'd pass out.
"If we're gonna do this, let's go to the bedroom," she whispered in the most seductive voice I've ever heard. Feeling her pull back from me, I released my hold upon that butt I'd worshipped for so long. Freed, I was able to breathe again, my mind returning from the clouds.
She took me by the hand, leading me out the kitchen and down the hallway. I wasn't sure which bedroom she meant. I didn't really care, as long as we were both in the same bedroom about to do what I hoped we were about to do. We passed my bedroom and entered hers.
Stopping before her bed, mom turned and took me into her arms. For some reason, I felt awkwardly nervous, unsure what to do. Mom must've felt the same as she sheepishly kissed me. When I responded back, she began to giggle. "What?" I worried.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Mom laughed. Yet we continued to kiss and the humor seemed to relieve the tension. I rubbed my hands along her back and when I touched her sides, she again giggled. Hearing my mother laugh like that was the hottest thing I'd ever heard. My hands descended further until they were again upon my mother's magnificent ass. With that, she again stuffed her tongue into my mouth. Oh what a feeling it was!
Then my angelic fantasy began pulling up my t-shirt. I grudgingly released the hold I had upon her ass and lifted my arms up to allow her to pull my shirt off. When my shirt reached my chin, we broke our kiss and she pulled my shirt over my head. Tossing it aside, she began running her hands on my bare chest and I was in heavenly bliss. She playfully pushed me back towards the bed, signaling for me to sit. I obeyed the angel's wishes. Taking a step back, mom brought her hands up to the top button of her blouse and in a devilishly seductive voice asked, "Are you ready to see your mom's boobs?"
"I've fantasized for this moment my whole life"
"Oh yeah, prove it," she challenged. In one quick movement, my shorts and boxers were on the floor, my throbbing member pointing at the ceiling. As mom looked approvingly, I wrapped a hand around my cock and began to stroke myself.
My reward was for her to remove her shirt. Being 19, I had never been to a strip club but I could not imagine any dancer doing a sexier striptease than as I watched my mother take off her clothes for me. She began by pulling her blouse out from her pants. Then as she graced me with a sinful smile, she brought her hands up to the top of her blouse. The button at the collar was already open, so she started at the first button as her eyes remained fixed on me. I kept jerking myself off as mom worked the buttons.
She undid the second and third buttons and her blouse began to open on its own accord. I could see that, yes, she was wearing a dark blue bra beneath her tan blouse. She unbuttoned the fourth and then last button. My eyes ached I was staring so hard at her and my hand continued pumping my cock.
"Do you like?" she asked as she sinfully taunted me by holding her blouse closed. All I could do was just eagerly nod my head. She blessed me by opening and letting it slide off her shoulders to fall to the floor behind her.
The sight before me was miraculous. There stood an angel in an exquisite lace bra that held her breasts with perfection. There was scalloped lace that ran along the inside edge of the shoulder straps and then down across the top of the cups. Each cup had its own teardrop shape to them; they were made of a nylon floral lace. The floral pattern was of the matching dark blue, while the sheer material was of a bluish hue that allowed the richness of my angel's natural glow to show through. Sloping in towards the middle were the lines that lead to the thin clasp of her front-closure bra.
At such a sight, my hand squeezed my cock in a tight grasp. I watched with reverence as she brought her fingers together at the clasp. Looking down, she and I both watched as she pinched the edges between her thumbs and forefingers. She unhooked the clasp and only her hands contained what I coveted.
"Are you ready?" my angel asked with an evil gleam in her eye.
"God, yes!" And I was treated to the sight every son wishes for. My mother stood there unashamed with her glorious breasts filling my sight. The reality was better than any of my fantasies. It was as if a topless Aphrodite stood before me. Her tits were miracles of their own. They were full and succulent, with a delicious pear shape to them. Her breasts stood proudly on her chest. Her nipples were a soft pink, about the size of a half dollar coin. Centered were her buds, jutting forward; a slightly darker pink, I thought they were strawberry gumdrops.
My hand was frantically jerking my cock at the vision I beheld. I was on the verge of cumming. My dick ached and my balls begged for release.
"Mom, I'm gonna cum!" I beseeched.
"Do it," my angel decreed and then...Krack-A-Bow!!! It was Mt Vesuvius erupting. My first squirt shot high into the air and 5 feet out onto the carpet. Then a second flew even higher to land about 4 feet away. My third was a powerful shot, flying across the air to land near my first. A fourth and fifth squirt flew from my cock. Then the lava flow of cum flooded onto my hand.
Mom watched the fireworks with an impressed "Wow" as I finished. Then she walked up to me and reaching over to the night-stand handed me a wad of tissues. As I wiped my hand and cock clean, I realized her crotch was hovering right before.
Dropping to my knees and kneeling before her altar, I grabbed her hips and buried my face into my mother's nether region. Even clothed, I could smell her ripeness and feel her heat. As I rubbed my face upon the sacraments I've dreamed of, mom unbuttoned her jeans. By their own volition, my hands slid her jeans down her sultry legs. I was honored with the sight of her matching dark blue lace panties.
I nuzzled my face upon the pleasant mixture of smooth and roughness her lace panties were and I eagerly prayed for more. As my face caressed upon her panties, she pinched the sides to push them down off her body. I was surprised to see that my mother's Pearly Gates were clean-shaven, but my response was for my cock to spring back to an aching throb. I reached around her, and grabbing those wonderful ass cheeks (that felt oh so right in my hands), pushed her onto my face.
Instinctually, I knew what to do. With my mother's pussy mushed against my face, I drank in her holy incense. Then my tongue flicked out and tentatively I licked my goddess' outer lips. Mom put her hands on my head for balance and spread her legs allowing me better access. Starting with long strokes of my tongue, I tasted the nectar of the gods.