A Very Long Pause Pt. 05

After farewell the next morning, the uneventful drive to the capital city gave Dad and me some time to talk. He had never served in the armed forces but had always been the patriotic soul, especially in support of the South Vietnam cause. We spent the night in the hotel room that Dad had reserved the prior week. After a handshake and short man-hug, I stepped toward my next life.

Finishing a little over six months of combat training and specialty training, the Army, the service to which I had been assigned, saw to it to grant me a two-week leave before deploying to Vietnam. Because Mom co-owned and managed the business, during my last four months of specialty training, Mom and I spent ample time talking on her business phone while she was at work, usually in the late afternoon or early evenings when I called her from one of the public phones on base. Before I came home on the two weeks' leave prior to deploying to 'Nam, Mom had every day planned.

The closest commercial airport that I could fly into was in the capital city where Dad and I made our last trip to the induction center. I was to arrive on a Thursday morning, but Mom made hotel reservations for that day and Friday. During my entire time in the Army, except for an annual birthday card from my sister, Mom was the only family to correspond with me. She told Dad and Sister that I would not arrive until Saturday, which gave us two days to spend uninterrupted time together.

"I love you, Baby. I've really missed you," Mom said after a full kiss on the lips as soon as I got to the end of the terminal arrival ramp. There were a couple of dozen people around that she completely ignored, kissing me again. Mom had already checked into the hotel room, which was only ten minutes away.

"You look so damn good in uniform," she told me on the way to her car. "Look at you. Short hair, no sideburns, tanned, and lost some weight," she added, and I could barely get a word in during the ten-minute drive to the hotel. There was little discussion in the elevator up to the room, but once inside the room, Mom bombarded me with more kisses, and she insisted on me showering first, then her. When I finished the shower, my nude mom quickly slid by me, squeezed my cock, and entered the shower behind her. "I won't be long," she yelled. She closed the shower door, then immediately peeked out and said, "Be ready for your mom, but don't play with your cock too much," then closed the door again.

Still without a stitch of clothes, I stretched out on the bed and made sure that my cock stayed at attention. In a few minutes Mom exited the bathroom patting her beautiful body dry, her eyes were like lasers on my cock. In the bed, we faced each other, embraced, and shared long, loving kisses that did not hesitate to turn sexual. Mom's hands were all over me with special attention to my balls and shaft. I restrained myself with gentle touches to her sweet body, the kind of touches that she liked. Her pussy was already soaked when she pulled my cock toward it, moving my fingers aside, rubbing my cockhead back and forth over her damp bush.

Breaking our kiss, smiling, "Your turn on top, Sweetie. Now, go easy at first. You'll know when I want you to really hump me," she whispered, and I turned and positioned myself between her legs. She never let go of my rod, but guided it back toward her pussy, slowly rubbing her vulva back and forth. My hips began a slow downward motion, and I felt every millimeter of sliding inside her. Mom's eyes were pointed at mine, her mouth open, both her hands around my butt now, following my up and down rhythm.

"Fuck me, Baby. Fuck your Mommy," she said repeatedly.

The third or fourth time she repeated those words in the next five-minute span, I knew that this would not be a major sexual performance on my part because I already felt the orgasm building. I tried to slow down to last, but Mom knew too.

"Don't slow down, my big man. I knew you would be this horny. I wanted you to be this horny. I wanted you to cum the minutes we started fucking. Fuck me hard. Pump me. Do me. Hump your Mommy. Your Mommy wants your hot stuff. It's all yours. Take it. Yes, I hear it."

Mom's "I hear it" referred to the sound of my pelvis slapping her legs and my balls slapping against her wherever balls slap against a woman, and her last few words were followed by the ejection of my full load inside her. She also knew that moment and positioned her legs to give me full access to her love channel.

"I knew you would cum fast, and I wanted you to," she admitted. "Whether you realized it or not, I came twice, and after a while, these legs will wrap around you again, you on top, giving it to me even better."

Slowly pushing me up and over, Mom slid her hand between her legs. "Look at Mommy's pussy. Still swollen. Still feeling good, and still hungry for my soldier man. Look at that smile," Mom commented while sliding out of the bed, heading to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Mom returned to the bed with a hot, wet face towel and caressed my cock with it, paying special attention to cleaning my balls, pulling back the foreskin of my uncircumcised "weenie," as she had referred to it on a previous occasion.

"Like your welcome home present?" she asked.

"Mom, for a while, especially the first few weeks of training, I didn't have a lot of time to think about us, but when I did, my thoughts were about this, how you would feel about this when I came back. I didn't know what you . . . ," and Mom cut me off.

"Baby, this woman is yours. Yours. When you come back from wherever you go, I'll be here wanting this. If you think I won't, then you had better think again, Buster," and with that last word, Mom bent over, slid the towel off my still hard cock, and went down on me, taking almost all of my cock into her mouth, getting it wet again but this time with her saliva, and my cock reacted.

"I want to do this again, all the way," she said after slightly raising and kissing my cockhead, "but now I want you hard so that you can mount your mom like a stallion and fuck me, make your mommy cum like you did the last time in your bedroom, but you on top."

The more Mom talked, the stiffer my cock. Her hand never left my hard meat the entire time she related to me what she wanted. I got to my knees, scooted her toward the middle of the bed, then settled between her legs. Mom reached down and rubbed the head of my cock back and forth across her pussy, which she had obviously taken some time to neatly trim.

"You want to fuck? Want your son to fuck you," I asked, "to put his cock inside your pussy? Does Mommy want to fuck her weenie?"

And after each question, Mom responded with a quick "Yes" or "Yes now," pulling me closer to her, spreading her legs and making sure that I was taking all of her and her all of me. Mom never lacked in the lubricant department. Even now, at her age decades after we began our affair, she rarely needs help producing a sufficient amount of her own natural lube.

I was just as excited this time as I was the first time I jacked off in front of her in my bedroom, but I wanted to please her, to give her that desired raw sexual feeling, to bring her to full woman orgasm.

Fucking at a slower pace, kissing her face, her neck, her full breasts and nipples, matching my tongue with hers, we made love there for the second time in an hour. Mom's numerous "I love you" and "This is the best" comments were each followed with "Fuck me" or "Fuck your Mommy," and eventually the climaxing "Oh fuck" that I wanted to here.

It was Mom who sped up the pace, meeting my thrusts into her pussy before I could go fully down. I looked back once when I felt her legs wrap tight around my butt, and I noticed her curled toes.

"You're making me cum, Baby. Give me that good feeling. Do me. You're making Mommy cum," she said, looking straight into my eyes, unblinking. I have no words or onomatopoeia to express the sounds she made during her orgasm, and it went in waves for over a minute.

Mom relaxed her legs around me, and when I began to slow a little, she demanded, "Don't you stop. Don't you dare stop. This pussy is still yours, now fill me up, Baby. Shoot it in me."

I was already there, and my pace easily quickened, shortly followed by two, maybe three spurts of my semen as deep inside her as our previous event. We lay there, both spent and still in each other's arms, Mom's legs still spread but at rest on the bed with me inside her.

"The best," Mom said after kissing me. "So good. What's my man think about his old mom? she asked.

I whispered to her, "My mom is not as old as she makes out to be, and I think you know that. I love you, Mom, and I love this. I will always want this in whatever way that you wish."

Mom and I spent two nights in that hotel. We made love again that evening, twice the next day, and once before heading home Saturday morning. I also got my wish, pleasing her with my tongue between her legs, and that was after she had one orgasm letting me watch her masturbate from the beginning to her climax.

To my knowledge nothing was ever said about Mom's extra time in the capital city. She disguised it as a time to shop and visit some old friends. The upcoming combat tour overseas and remaining part of my two-year draft commitment gave me the military bug, which neither Mom nor Sister was pleased with at the time.

During the next two-plus decades, every leave of absence that I took to return home resulted in a similar plan: a couple of days in a hotel with Mom, and my stay at home always included time for us in my bedroom after Sister and Dad left for work. Mom also visited me at every base stateside assignment several times, and her visits continued when I was overseas in Europe. Dad did not like travelling long distances.

In Part I of this story, the events began in 1972, forty-eight years ago shortly after graduating and reaching my eighteenth birthday. It is the year 2020 as I share this anecdote, and my mom is now eighty-five.

Do octogenarian women want and enjoy sex? Hell yes, and my mother still does not favor quickies. My mom has many friends in her same age range, and she has told me that most of them, too, although widows, are sexually active and plan to continue as many years as they can.

After the passing of my dad twelve years ago, my mom confided in me one of the main problems with her and Dad's sex life: He did not like for her to talk during sex, especially with language like she uses with me. As evidenced by this story, Mom's a talker. No problem.

Some time after my dad's passing, Mom introduced me to a couple of her closest lady friends and later even suggested that I pay them a visit if they invited me to lunch, which they subsequently did. I found it surprising that my mom would so indifferently set me up with these ladies without any jealousy or concern, but I must fully reserve her reasons for those events for the content of other stories yet to be written.

One important lesson that I have learned about women that age is if you are inclined to pursue such a relationship with an elderly lady, follow her lead; in the bed do what she wants, then she will let you do what you want. Don't worry, she will let you know when it's time, and she will satisfy you in many ways. These older ladies have been around; they know what men are capable of. Just do what the beautiful lady wants, and she will give you pleasure beyond.

Mom and I now send each other "hot" texts, and we have talked about the idea of what our texts would have been like if cellphones existed back in the 1970's. While serving in uniform for two-plus decades, before coming home and starting a second career, I had short-term relationships with a few women on various parts of the globe, but never married. I told Mom about the other women but that none of them could ever compare to her, and none them talked like Mom when having sex.

"Well my big man, each of those separations was a very long pause for us both. I never expected you to go without. Actually, it's a compliment to know that what I gave you, no other woman did."

Nothing else was ever mentioned about my past affairs.

It was not my intent in this series to paint my dad as callous or indifferent toward me or Mom. Dad taught me to shoot, to swim, to bait a hook, to throw a net, to hunt turkey and deer, to skin or dress them out for cooking and eating, to play second base, to drive his old 1949 Plymouth coupe stick shift, and to fix stuff. He attended every baseball game I ever played in through high school and even helped coach some of the teams. He did "Dad" things, and I still have high regard for him.

To my knowledge, Dad did not suspect us, and my mom and I never placed ourselves in a compromising position which would cause my sister to suspect. Whatever my dad lacked in Mom's bed, he was a good father, provider, and role model to me and my sister.

I do not know if Mom was ever involved with other men. I think not. I have no regrets for giving her what she desires; besides, she also gave to me. The affection for my mother was and is real in the typically accepted mom-son sense. Likewise, my sensual desire for my mom in this narrative is surpassed only by her sentiments toward me.

I visit my mom daily and stay overnight but only when she asks me to stay. Sometimes, usually on a weekend, one of her lady friends will also stay overnight. Remember, my mom likes to watch. She has made it clear that she wants to see my every day, but the sleepover privilege is by invitation only. Discretion was always and still is important when we make love usually a couple of times each week. Sister is now a 7-hour drive away. Mom still uses the "F" word and similar language when we have sex, and the occasional mutual masturbation session remains a turn-on for her. Me too.