Alarm Clock Ch. 05

"Oh Christ," she groaned, waking, holding her head, and curling into the fetal position.

I kissed the back of her neck.

"Good morning," I said softly.

"Don't yell," she groaned, making me laugh and making her groan louder.

I snuggled against her, nestling my erection between the cheeks of her ass.

"Oh, God, really?" she moaned, but there was a hint of a giggle in her voice too.

"Not unless you offer," I said, snuggling closer, "I'm not a rapist."

She chuckled, her voice thick and mucus laden.

"No, baby," she said, "I raised you better than that."

She reached back with her right hand and lifted her ass cheek, offering herself, making me smile.

And so my Saturday morning began, pushing into my mother's anus, dry, tight, and unprepared.

She groaned as I entered her.

The sex was kinky rather than good. She didn't move. She just let me. But I drained the old dragon and set off to face the day.

Actually, Saturday was quiet. How much fun can you have when your paramour is nursing a hangover so bad she moans every time she moves?

Even her milk tasted funny after the alcohol overdose of the night before.

I finished my last paper of the semester and had her proofread it. Then she listened while I read it aloud and we made the final changes.

Our lovemaking that night was gentle, quiet. Even when she came it was easy, almost a flowing rather than the hard muscular contractions I associated with orgasm.

I made Sunday a Roman princess day.

I woke before her for a change and let her sleep while I padded into the kitchen, naked, and started making coffee. When it was ready I went back to the bedroom and just watched her sleep for a while.

When she started stirring I knew she was waking up so I latched on and started having my breakfast. She woke, stroking my hair, her hips starting to rock as I gently played between her legs. Her wakeup lingered. I took my time, enjoying it as much as she did. Well, maybe not as much, but enjoying it.

When she was spent, well, and I was too, I smiled, kissed her, smiled, and said, "hold that thought."

I drew her a bath, the water as hot as she could stand, and a thick layer of bubbles on the top. Then I went back to the bedroom, helped her out of bed, walked her to the bathroom, wiped her when she was done, and then helped her into the tub.

While she soaked I made breakfast. Nothing fancy, just a quick ham and cheese omelet, toast, bacon, and orange juice.

I took it up and fed her while she soaked. We both enjoyed the very special intimacy of a Roman Princess day. For the rest of the day, I tended to her every need. I dried her after the bath. Then I did her hair, the hair brush and blow dryer working together to give her a perfect cap of hair to frame her face. Then I did her face, just a bit heavier on the makeup than she usually wore.

When she peed I wiped her and when she pooped I wiped and then washed her.

By lunch, the hangover was pretty much passed and the light lunch I made her, Campbell's Tomato Soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, stayed down okay.

"God, you are such a good boy, what did I do to deserve you," she said as I wiped a few crumbs from her lips.

"No, mom," I said, kissing her, a soft brushing kiss, "the real question is, what did I do to deserve YOU?"

She giggled and lifted her breast.

"Your turn, baby," she said.

I latched on, I was hungry, while she stroked my hair and hummed that little lullaby.

As often happened, oh, hell, as almost always happened, my hand moved down her belly, tracing her belly button quickly before finding her clitoris with my fingertip and slowly masturbating her as I suckled.

"One more week," she said and I knew what she meant.

And my dick got hard, instantly.

Next Friday I would teach my last class, take my last final, and then I would be free to be her baby for the summer.

She broke my latch with her fingertip and adjusted our bodies, offering her other breast. As I latched on, my finger still lightly touching her button, her hand found me.

We lay like that for a long, gentle time, me nursing, both of us masturbating the other slowly. It lingered and she knew how to control our timing so that when I came, ejaculating onto her hand and forearm, she came with me, her thick love lotion filling my hand.

I felt myself getting drowsy as I got full, feeding at her.

"One more week," was my last thought as I drifted off.