C'est Mom

When she opened her eyes, I asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she gasped. "I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I," I concurred.

"I mean," she continued, "I never had an orgasm so intense and so quickly."

"Did I go too far?" I asked.

"No. Not too far," she insisted. "Not far enough."

"You realize that there's no going back if we go further," I reminded her.

"I have no intention of ever going back," she vowed. "Come with me."

"Mom," I started to say. She put a finger against my lips. "Not mom, Cari," she demanded. "Cari and Doug."

"Cari," I said. "Lead on."

There was a lightness in her step as I followed Cari into her bedroom. She literally danced the way in front of me. In the bedroom, we collaborated in turning down the bedspread and top sheet. Cari came to me, kissed me and we fell on the bed together. Her kisses were tender and playful. She was obviously having a good time.

Our lips touched and caressed each other. Our lips parted and our tongues touched and continued the caress. Within seconds, we were open mouthed, trying to touch each other's tonsils with our tongues, breathing each other's air and gasping. Cari's joy was infectious. We laughed and kissed some more. Cari rolled on top of me. I could see the joy in her eyes. She was genuinely happy. I'd never experienced such joy in a partner on the verge of sex.

I rolled us over and held her hands in my hands above her head. Cari's eyes sparkled, her lips pursed and her body shook in anticipation. I kissed her gently. "Don't wait," she whispered as she spread her legs.

I stared into her eyes and entered her slowly. Her eyes closed, then opened wide and rolled back until I could see only the whites of her eyes. Her legs rose and wrapped around my body. She pulled with her legs and pushed with her hips. Her eyes closed again and her body tensed against mine and we held our breaths. I pushed more deeply inside her than I'd ever thought possible crushing her breasts against my chest.

When I started to move within her, her legs tightened around me and she whispered, "No."

We lay together, pushing against each other, our breathing irregular and hearts raging in our chests. I released her hands to support my body on my hands and her arms wrapped around my neck. She fiercely kissed me as if she was starving for intimacy. She whispered, "Okay."

I moved out of her as far as our binding together would allow and pushed back inside her. She exploded beneath me. She held me tight while her body convulsed. She bit my lip and tears flowed freely from her eyes. I paused and held her close as her orgasm peaked and began to retreat. I moved inside her again. "Yessss!" she whispered.

We worked together, pulling and pushing our bodies apart and together again. Cari began to laugh. "It's happening again," she hissed. "Don't stop. I want to go there again," she cried.

Her second orgasm was as intense as her first but, this time, her eyes stayed open as her body seized repeatedly and she gasped for breath between her laughter.

Her third orgasm was too much for me and I expelled pulse after pulse of semen inside her. We clung together as we floated down from our orgasms. Eventually, she relaxed her arms and legs and I fell off her and slipped out of her.

We lay alongside each other. I kissed the tears from her eyes and cheeks and she kissed the welt on my lip where she bit me. "I'm sorry," she cooed.

"For what?" I asked.

"For biting your lip," she explained. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Biting me?" I asked. "I thought I was killing you."

"Killing me softly," she insisted. "I want to die like that forever."

"You want to do it again?" I asked.

"Today, tomorrow and the day after that," Cari insisted.

"And I thought we were only going to live naked together," I joked.

"We are," agreed Cari, "but as cohabitants with benefits. And, you're on notice that I want all the benefits I can get."

"You set the pace. I'll keep up," I committed.

"Keeping it up is exactly what I want," confessed Cari.

We slept in the same bed that night. It was the first of every night sleeping in the same bed.

Tuesday, I woke alone in the bed. I peed, brushed my teeth, combed my hair and headed for the kitchen. Cari was happily preparing breakfast. She looked fantastic. She moved around the kitchen like someone twenty years younger than she was. She had showered and her naked body glowed and begged for attention. I walked up behind her, kissed the back of her neck and reached around her to fondle a breast.

"Ummm," Cari hummed. "Save that for after breakfast," she said. "Go take a shower while I finish preparing breakfast," she suggested.

I showered and headed back to the kitchen. Cari was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee. When I entered, she jumped up and took scrambled eggs and pancakes from the oven where she had been keeping them warm. I sat across from her at the table where a plate, mug of coffee and large glass of orange juice were waiting.

Cari started the conversation. "How do you want to spend the day?" she asked while invitingly fondling her breasts.

"I have to go to work," I reminded her.

"I have a telephone," Cari said. "You can use it to solve your problem and my problem," she suggested. "So," she continued. "How do you want to spend the rest of the day?"

"I can take the day off," I admitted. "But only one day. I need the job."

"I get that," agreed Cari. "We'll just have to make the most of the day we can but the nights after that are mine."

I called Wal-Mart and begged off sick. I told them I thought I'd be better by Wednesday and I'd be in on time."

Cari and I headed for the bedroom after putting away the leftovers but without cleaning up the dishes, mugs, glasses and utensils.

In the bedroom, Cari kissed me and then commented, "That's nice. I can't wait, but look at us and then look at the bed. We're both shinny clean. Do you really want to get into that bed after last night?"

We changed the sheets and put the old ones in the washer before returning to the bedroom.

"Much nicer," acknowledged Cari. She kissed me again and we fell on the clean crisp sheets together.

Cari laughed. "Remember what happened the last time we fell on the bed together?" she asked.

I did and we did it again. Not exactly the same. Cari only had two orgasms and I lasted much longer before I submitted to her constant encouragement.

We added several activities we hadn't tried the night before. I tasted Cari's saltiness with an undercurrent of strawberry and Cari swallowed a quantity of my own salty excretions. When I mentioned the hint of strawberry, Cari admitted that she had found an old bottle of strawberry douche and had used it to surprise me, hoping I'd enjoy it.

"It was surprising and enjoyable," I told her, "but I'd like to experience you without condiments."

"Of course," she said. "However you want it."

"Do they have other flavors?" I asked.

Cari laughed, pushed me on my back and straddled me. "Fuck you, Doug," she exclaimed and she did just that.

We spent the entire day together with breaks to pee, shower, eat, change sheets and hunt for more flavored douche. The day drifted into the night and Cari set the tone for how the rest of the nights would be hers.

I woke, still tired and happy, Wednesday morning with Cari admiring my usual morning erection. "I haven't seen one of these for years," she commented. "What do you think I should do with it?"

"It's there because of you," I told her. "You should follow your heart."

Cari surrounded my erection with her mouth. "I think I'll explore a breakfast appetizer," she said. "After all, you have to go to work this morning."

Acting as Cari's appetizer was incredible. I told her that I wouldn't mind starting every morning that way. I went to work, tired, drained and happy. I spent most the day in a fog but managed to get all my responsibilities completed.

That evening, we were on the sofa watching another episode of the Netflix series but thinking about something else. I was on one end of the sofa with Cari's legs over my thighs and resting on the arm of the sofa. My hand naturally fell on her thigh and I gently moved it up and down between her pubic hair and her knee. Each pass, I combed her pubic hair with my fingers. Cari's eyes were closed, obviously enjoying the contact. She moved her left leg from my lap and placed her foot on the floor. The movement opened the space between her legs, inviting me to pay more attention to the opening of her vagina.

One thing led to another and we ended up having sex on the sofa for the first time. Cari climbed onto my lap and guided me into her while facing me. A short time later, she turned around and bounced on my erection while I held her breasts. Her orgasm was unusually heavy with fluids soaking my lap and the sofa. The next day, Cari cleaned the sofa cushion after buying industrial upholstery cleaner.

That session started a series of experiments of us having sex in numerous positions. We favored a position with Cari on her knees and me on my knees behind her. Cari shared that she felt that I was able to penetrate her deeper than other positions and she liked that. I could also reach around her to manipulate her nipples and her clitoris, both increased the intensity of her orgasm.

Fucking her from behind also gave me an unrestricted view of her anus. More from curiosity than desire, I began to experiment with my fingers around and in her rectum. Cari resisted at first but, after an unusually intense orgasm, she began to encourage ass play. About three weeks later, we tried anal intercourse with better than expected results and anal play became an occasional part of our sexual activities.

With the two of us working together, household chores were quickly handled since we were both anxious to move to more pleasant and intimate activities. Laundry in particular changed. There was considerably less clothing to launder, the volume replaced by stained bedding. Neither of us wore much clothing, even when we went out. I needed to dress appropriately for work but not at other times when I frequently went without underwear. Cari never wore panties or a bra. Riding in the car together or going out to dinner or a movie included a number of risky, and exciting, opportunities. I asked Cari if going braless was intimidating. After all, her breasts were larger than most, filling a D sized cup when she wore a bra.

"Don't you think people will notice you're not wearing a bra?" I asked.

"I know they notice," she replied.

"And that doesn't bother you?" I asked.

"Why should it?" she questioned. "You're the only one that gets to touch them and I actually get wet imagining what they imagine when they see me."

"Even the women?" I asked.

"I haven't thought about the women," Cari stated. "I've never had sex with a woman. I guess I can't imagine what they might be thinking."

"And?"

"Maybe I should think about it more. Could lead to interesting playtime with the right woman."

"What about me?" I questioned.

"You're invited, of course," Cari asserted.

Over the winter and spring Cari and I settled into an easy pattern. Weekdays started with an early sendoff to work and I was greeted with an intimate encounter when I got home. We never wore clothing. Cari kept a robe near the door in case someone rang the doorbell. We became so comfortable that, on occasion, she forgot, surprising a few Amazon delivery men and one pizza guy.

In May, Cari got a phone call from Cynthia, her daughter and my sister. We should have expected it since the school year was ending at the university she attended. She said she was coming home for the summer and would arrive the following Saturday.

We had four days to prepare to share the house with Cindy for three or four months. We didn't think highly about the situation but we were unable to find an alternative. We took the time to locate and properly store our clothing for Cindy's homecoming. Saturday morning, we screwed like rabbits and moved the sheets to the washer. By Saturday afternoon, we were dressed, including underwear, and ready but not really happy about it.

Cari and I helped Cindy unload the U-Haul trailer she towed home and I rode with Cindy to return the rental hitch and trailer. Back home, Cari had made Cindy's old room inhabitable. Dinner was awkward for all three of us. For Cindy, it was adjusting to being home for the first time in almost a year. For us it was adjusting to Cindy being home for the first time in almost a year. Several times, I caught myself almost referring to Cari by her name instead of mom. I noticed Cari smile whenever it happened since, to her, I was Doug and I had always been Doug.

After dinner, we settled in the living room to watch a movie. Mom and Cindy sat on the sofa and I pulled a chair around to better see the screen. Conversation was stilted. We all felt it. Mom went to bed after the movie leaving Cindy and I alone in the living room.

"Is every evening like this?" asked Cindy.

"No. Mom and I usually have lots to talk about. Weather, the news, some sports and how we spent the day. It's quite comfortable," I assured her.

We had little to talk about so I went to bed, trying to get used to sleeping alone in my old bedroom.

By Monday evening, things weren't much better. Just like Saturday and Sunday, mom went to bed early again. Cindy looked at me. "I have lots of stories I'd like to tell you guys about school and parties and other things but I'm not sure how mom will react to them," she told me.

"I think you're over thinking it," I suggested. "She was young once."

"I don't think so," asserted Cindy. "Mom's old. Things are different now. The things we do today would shock her."

"I've been living with her for months now," I reminded her. "I think I know her pretty well on a level above when we were kids. Give me an example and I'll try to imagine how she'll react."

"I don't know," worried Cindy. "It might shock you too."

"My turn to not think so," I said. "You might be surprised by my experiences since you've been away."

"Okay," said Cindy, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

I sat up, intent on listening to her story.

"Without details," opened Cindy. "The way I ended up in bed with three fraternity boys is funny."

"Funny?" I commented. "I'd like to hear the details myself. However, I don't think mom would be judgmental. She would probably laugh along with you."

"You really think so?" Cindy asked.

"Like I said," I repeated. "I've been living with her for months more like adults than mother and son and she's shared some of her stories from before she met our father. Actually, you might be shocked yourself."

"I can't believe that," insisted Cindy. "For two semesters I've lived in a coed dorm. In time we became unusually casual about our personal habits. That might upset her."

"You're telling me that there was coed nudity and other possible social interactions," I assumed.

"Nudity, yes," answered Cindy. "The other social interactions occurred behind closed doors and not always in combinations you might expect."

"You know," I stated. "Mom lived in a coed dorm when she went to school and, I think, the results were similar to yours. Maybe without the requirement for closed doors."

"You're fuckin' me," stated Cindy.

"Not yet," I said before I could stop myself.

Cindy froze on the sofa. "What did you say?" she asked.

"I said, I'm not fucking with you," I told her.

"That's not quite how I heard it," she said.

"Never the less," I said. "Think about it. Maybe start a conversation with mom where you can swap war stories. I bet you'll both be on a different level with each other afterwards."

I left her on the sofa, thinking about my bizarre misstatement and how to get a conversation started with our mother.

I went to work on Tuesday, leaving mom and Cindy together for the entire day. The atmosphere at dinner seemed more relaxed. After dinner, Cindy and I settled in the living room and mom disappeared into her bedroom again.

"Isn't mom joining us?" I asked.

"Not tonight," stated Cindy. "We had a wonderful talk today and she agreed to leave us alone tonight so I could talk to you alone."

"I assume when you say 'wonderful,' you mean that you two shared stories and experiences and concluded that you were more similar than different," I asserted.

"I hate to say this to you," started Cindy, "but you were right about mom and you're right about our conversation this afternoon."

"I was only trying to help," I said.

"Don't hurt yourself patting yourself on your back," laughed Cindy.

I laughed with her. She seemed to be a different person than she was this morning. "Would you care to share what you and mom talked about today?" I asked.

"If I understand mom correctly, you and she had a similar discussion quite a while ago, so, I think you can fill in the blanks," Cindy explained.

"Did your conversation with mom end the same way as mine did?" I asked.

"Since I don't know how your conversation ended, I can't answer that," countered Cindy.

"Okay," I agreed. "Let me ask a different question. Did mom explain her preferred life style, including her preferred dress code?"

"She did," affirmed Cindy.

"And yet, she's still wearing clothes at dinner," I stated.

"True," agreed Cindy. "We both agreed that her preferences were hers and she couldn't force them on the rest of us and she wasn't comfortable being the only one naked."

"And you?" I asked. "Are you uncomfortable being naked?"

"Not with mom," stated Cindy. "But you live here too and I have serious reservations being naked in front of you."

"Even if I was naked in front of you?" I asked.

"Have you been naked in front of mom?" asked Cindy.

"Yes, for most of the time since I moved in," I admitted.

"Oh," said Cindy.

"Does that make a difference?" I asked.

"It might," admitted Cindy. "But there are other considerations."

"I'm listening," I offered.

"I'm afraid that mutual nudity might surface emotions that are socially unacceptable and difficult to control."

"Cindy," I said. "If you're concerned that I might get an erection if I see you naked, let me assure you that I will. It's not something I can control. And, I suspect, you might have similar physical reactions to seeing me naked. Like everything else in life, time and exposure will eventually moderate reactions. I guarantee you that after a few hours, or days, I will not walk around with a permanent hard on."

"Did you have that reaction with mom?" Cindy asked.

"I did," I admitted.

"And how did that work out?" she asked.

"I'm not sure you want to know," I said.

"Oh," she said for the second time.

"Is there something you'd like to share with me?" I asked.

"About what?" Cindy evaded the question.

"Did you and mom get naked together today?" I asked.

Cindy looked down at the ground. "We did," she whispered.

"And how did that work out?" I asked.

Cindy's body withdrew visibly. "I can't answer that," she said.

"Then tell me this," I asked. "Did mom ask you to call her Cari?"

"Yes," Cindy responded in a tiny voice.

"Then there's no more that I need to know," I said.

Cindy stood up from the sofa. "Thanks," she said softly and walked slowly out of the room.

I put on the television and tried, without success, to watch a movie. After the early news, I headed up to my bedroom. On the way I passed by Cari's bedroom. Her door was closed. I planned to knock and discuss my conversation with Cindy earlier but there were voices inside. Cari doesn't talk to herself so I suspected Cindy was already inside talking with her mother.

I went to my room and fell into a fitful sleep.

I woke Wednesday morning, tired and out of sorts. The unresolved discussion with Cindy the previous evening was on my mind. I brushed my teeth, dressed for work and headed for breakfast.