Diary of a Motherfucker

I explained this to Mom, and, to my surprise, she agreed to come over.

"I'll be over around 6 pm," Mom said, and quickly said "bye" before hanging up, quicker than usual.

The initial stage of my plan has so far been successful. Let's see about Stage Two.

3/15/2021

I skipped a day because I didn't have time to write last night. I was far, far too busy to do any diary writing.

Let me explain.

I had to work that Saturday morning, annoyingly, and came back home around 3 pm.

I texted my Mom to see if she was still coming over around 6 pm.

She replied, saying "yes", but that she felt like making pasta, shrimp and tomato sauce, and didn't want takeout.

Also, she asked if I could come by the house to pick her up, because she wanted help fixing a broken light.

I told her "no problem" and agreed to come right over.

I got to the house. The same one I grew up in, and it felt odd going there, amid the initial stages of my tactical plan to have sex with my Mother.

The place was so empty, with my father gone from it. I hadn't been there in a while, and though it wasn't a big house, it seemed bigger after all Dad's things had been moved out. Mom had sold off lots of the furniture too.

On the way over, I'd picked up a few, shall we say, "strategic" items from the mall and the pharmacy, in anticipation of the night's devious game plan of finding my way between my Mom's legs.

The new Phase Two had been hatched and was to be enacted shortly.

Strolling into the house, grinning ear to ear, Mom, in her long powder blue pleated dress, saw my bag, peered curiously, and asked what was in it.

"Makeup." I told her, in a matter of fact voice.

"What?" she asked, her eyes squinting in confusion.

"I want you to wear makeup. I've never seen you wearing makeup."

"Because I don't wear makeup."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't!" she shot back, angrily, "and why do you care what I wear or look like?"

"Because I do care. I want you to look and feel your best. Earl said his Mom has been getting into wearing makeup again, dressing really girly, and she's never been happier. I want the same for you."

"Why have you been talking so much about Suki (Earl's Mom)? Do you have a thing for her?"

Mom smirked, crossed her arms, and eyed me a perplexed, inquisitive glare, and tapped her foot.

"Maybe. Are you jealous?" I smiled and rebutted.

"Jealous? What has gotten into you? Why would I be jealous?"

Then she stomped off to the kitchen, none too happy.

Fuck, so far things were not going well.

"Fix the chandelier in the living room!" I heard her yell from afar. I saw through the corridor an array of boxes and a ladder awaiting me.

I gathered everything, went and fixed it, dutifully, threw away the refuse and met her in the kitchen. She was packing away the pasta, green beans into Tupperware. The kitchen was aromatic in a sweet essence of tomato and basil.

Sitting down at the beechwood kitchen table, I asked Mom if she needed anything else done around the house.

"No, thanks, and sorry to snap at you earlier," she replied, her tone apologetic.

Turning to face me, she continued, "I'm sure you're trying to be nice."

"I am. I'd like to be friends with you. Get closer."

"Really? Why?"

"Life is short."

"It is. And?" Mom was becoming inquisitive again.

"I've seen such a change in Earl since he got closer with his Mom. I realized that I don't talk to you enough, pay enough attention to you. I should change that. While there's time. Nothing is forever."

I smiled her way, disarming her, and she began to relax.

"You're sweet. A gentleman. And handsome, not too tall or short, and not too devilishly handsome that a girl would get worried about losing you. You've got that boy next door, wholesome look to you."

The way Mom said that was in a manner I hadn't heard from her. I couldn't remember her remarking on my looks before, aside from a passing comment around graduations, prom, when I was in a full suit or tuxedo.

"You know, Mom, that's what I was thinking about you, the other day, browsing through your Facebook photos."

I kept smiling, and she started to smile herself. Her smile was quite pretty, very robust, and I noticed dimples I'd not seen before in her cheeks, which reddened.

"You were browsing my pictures?"

"I sure was. I was wondering how you'd look in makeup."

"Seriously?" Mom giggled and covered her mouth when she did so. It was coy and cute.

"Go put on this makeup. And put this on, too."

Opening the XXL size paper shopping bag, I not only placed a set of makeup accessories on the table, I also laid out a body-hugging black mini-skirt and matching skintight, sleeveless blouse.

"Oh my." Mom gasped as I lay it out, like a magician's props.

"I'm not sure. I don't, I have not worn things like this before," she said, picking up and inspecting the articles of skimpy clothing suspiciously, "and I've not worn makeup since my wedding. Even then it was only lipstick."

"There's probably instructions inside the packaging. It's expensive makeup too, Mom. I wanted the best for you. We're only going to my apartment, so no one will see." I told her, as innocently as I could, however, like Earl, I'm not the greatest actor or liar.

"I can't go outside wearing this. What will the neighbors think? I'm going to Church tomorrow morning!"

I was getting somewhere, I figured. She was entertaining the thought of getting dolled up. It was a start.

"Okay, then we'll stay here," I told her, in a smooth, assuring voice, changing tactics. If I couldn't get my hands on her, I could at least see her dolled up, which would provide jerk off material forever and be worth the trip over in and of itself.

Thinking it over for a minute, finally, she relented, and, without looking at me or saying a word, she gathered the makeup and clothes I brought and walked quickly out of the room.

Things were getting better. My plan wasn't unfolding as I intended. But it was unfolding, at least. And I hoped that later I could be unfolding her legs.

I sat in the kitchen and uncorked, poured a glass of red wine. I sipped the Chilean Merlot slowly, savoring the flavor, thinking of how wine can be like a woman. Some mature better than others, and the wines and women who do mature, age the best are the most delicious.

I must admit that I now have a full-on MILF obsession. Mature women really were true goddesses to behold.

Scrolling on my phone, I looked at pictures of MILFs. A MILF similar to my Mom was in a bikini, standing on a sun-kissed tropical island.

I thought how awesome it would be to see my Mom wear something like that, have sex with her, lying on a beach, in the hot tangerine glow of a tropical sun. The tides, salty seawater splashing and tickling us.

Another MILF was in lingerie, a G-string, bent over a king-sized bed in what appeared to be a luxury hotel room overlooking a Mediterranean coastal city, probably somewhere in Italy. What I wouldn't give to see my Mom in her underwear. What I wouldn't give to be in a hotel with her, with her undressed, ass in the air like that.

But I was with her, at least. In her kitchen.

And when she came back from dressing up, I was awed.

"How do I look?" she asked, standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning on the doorframe.

"Outstanding!" was the most I could muster, as I arched back in the wooden chair.

Not only had she dolled herself up, she'd tied her hair into a sexy chignon and slinked into crimson red high heels and a pair of floral patterned dark black stockings.

Those stockings, too, wow, wow, wow! I've always been a fan of dark stockings on a lady. They complemented Mom's form majestically too.

And being the first time to ever really see, inspect her figure, I was utterly captivated by it, pleased beyond belief.

She was thicker than I thought. Her thighs and calves, bigger than I expected. But they were plump in the right way. Juicy. Succulent. Particularly her ample thighs and how symmetric they were to her wide, child-bearing hips.

Slanted in her posture, the dimensions, the largess, circumference of her ass was truly superb.

Being an ass-man, I approved in full of her big spherical cheeks. Her ass's angles protruding to perfection.

Her upper body was equally marvelous. No pooch whatsoever, her flat belly a runway to her bulging C-Cup breasts, which had a slight sag, but still hung gloriously.

The makeup on her face was the perfect cherry on the pie. Cherry red lipstick, heavy rouge on her cheeks, up to her arching cheekbones, which were accentuated perfectly by the sweet red shade.

I hoped she'd have clamped on the fake lashes I gave her, but she'd not, instead using only the mascara, and that was more than fine. Her eyelashes were already long and curly, heavenly tinsels adorning the luminous bluish grey eyes of hers and coiled blonde locks she'd teased and tied up.

Her golden blonde hair, pearly blue eyes, ivory white skin, truly gifts from our British heritage!

Seeing her all made-up, dressed like that, she sorta reminded me of the thick sexy blonde from the bar who always shot me down. But my Mom was far, far sexier!

"Fuck, Mom, you are HOT!" I exclaimed, realizing I'd just cursed in front of her for the first time. Ever. She hated cursing.

"You watch your mouth! Don't talk to me like that! I'm still your Mother!" she was scolding me, but with a half-smile.

"You are so beautiful! This must be why you don't wear makeup. You must be worried too many guys will slobber over you, right?"

"Listen to you, being such a sweet-talker. No, it just never crossed my mind. But it is fun. I have to confess."

"I'm happy you're happy with it. I sure am."

"Really, you are?" Mom said and examined herself. She appeared rather surprised by my fawning attention.

But I could tell she was flattered. She was blushing slightly.

"I am. I've been more appreciative of mature women recently." I stupidly blurted. Shit! Maybe she would pick up on my intentions, I worried.

"You have? You want to date a mature woman?" She asked, still looking herself over, tugging down the hem of her tight skirt, which was starting to ride up and show off more thigh than she might have wanted.

"Yes. I do." I admitted. Fuck it. Might as well come clean. "Would you ever think of dating a younger man?" I asked, boldly, going all in. Full throttle.

"I never thought about it. I haven't thought of dating anyone. Work is too busy." Her voice dropped an octave, and she stared down at the kitchen floor, glumly.

I sensed it was a sore subject. Time to lighten the mood. Time for Stage Three.

"Join me for a glass of wine." I told her, in an upbeat pitch. "Here." I poured a healthy glass, stood up, approached and handed it to her.

Then I ran my free hand on her hip, for a split second. Another bold move. She shifted her glance away and flinched as I did so. It was probably the first time she'd been touched by a man in eons.

"We haven't eaten yet," she protested, although gratefully accepted the wine glass.

"Which makes it better." I quipped.

"Why? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes, I am."

"Why would you want me drunk?"

"Because you are so stiff! Loosen up. Let's chill. Talk. Come sit down."

I took a few slow steps back, pulled the chair next to mine out and waved her over to it.

"You win. Okay." Mom surrendered, entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Passing by me, I patted her lower back gently.

This time she didn't flinch.

As she passed by me I nearly popped wood at the sight of her ass and how it jiggled and danced in that tight skirt.

What was supposed to be a glass turned into three or four. I lost count. Mom had opened up as we imbibed. A lot.

We chatted about a range of topics, much of it small talk. Then it took a more serious swing when the subject of her divorce arose.

She said they'd lost the spark. There was just nothing left, nothing there, but that she was feeling jealous, however, of Dad seeing someone new. She was also jealous of Suki, Earl's Mom, she said.

That took me aback. Why would she be jealous of Suki? Unless Suki had maybe told her something. A secret.

"Why are you jealous of Suki?" I asked, feeling like a detective hunting for clues.

"Oh, I shouldn't have said anything," she grumbled and chugged the rest of her glass, poured herself another. A tall one.

"No, why? You jealous of her looks? You're even prettier than her."

Which was true. Especially since I'd finally seen her dolled up. Her ass was way bigger and sexier, face far prettier. Everything.

"Suki, Suki is," and she paused, clammed up. "I cannot believe I said anything about it. I'm terrible. I've had too much wine."

"Spill it, Mom. If you can't tell your own son, who can you tell?"

"I should not tell anyone! I was sworn to secrecy!"

"I know there's a secret. You know I know there's a secret. But Suki does not have to know that I know. Please tell me! I want to know what you know."

"Fine. Suki is having an affair."

"Really?" I tried my best to act shocked, but, like Earl, I'm a crappy liar.

"With who?"

"A younger man. A much younger man." Mom spoke in nearly a whisper. She closed her eyes, shaking her head shamefully.

After a brief pause. The alcohol in me spoke before I could think properly.

"With Earl?" I said, suddenly breaking into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Mom's eyes opened wide. Her jaw hit the floor.

"You know!?" She screamed accusingly and slapped me on the arm playfully.

"I was sworn to secrecy too. We are both terrible people."

Mom broke into laughter herself.

"I have to say, I was surprised. I had no idea how to respond to it." She stuttered through deep breaths of laughter.

"Me neither. What do you think about it? The two of them?"

Mom's amusement abruptly stopped.

"I don't know." She glanced away after I asked.

"They do seem very happy." I replied, and I placed my hand over hers. "They've become very close."

Mom didn't pull her hand away, gave me a surprised, but curious expression.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming clean, Mom. I think you're beautiful. I want you. Let's try it."

"Try what?"

"Let's be together. Like them."

"Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not."

"This, I should never have said anything. I should never have gotten dressed up."

Mom pulled her hand away, arose from her seat. "I'm going right upstairs to change, and we can have dinner after I -- "

I got up too, cut her off by stepping in front of her, blocking her path. I placed my hands on her hips and drew her towards me.

Then I hugged her to me, my arms around her lower back.

I could feel her warmth. I could feel the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat as her luscious tits smushed into my chest, and I could smell the wine on the misty heat of her wet breath.

"No, don't go." I told her, before I planted my lips to hers and gave her a quick peck, square on her arced lips.

"I should go. I should go upstairs." She said in a muffled voice, but she remained in my grip and slung her arms, heavy with wine, over my broad shoulders.

"No, stay here." I told her. I returned my lips to hers. I could taste her lipstick as I stuck my tongue into her mouth.

She was coy. At first. Her tongue limp. I explored her mouth, tickled at her dormant tongue, which, after a few seconds, burst to life, our tongues dueling in a sloppy, hard and nasty French kiss that went on for about a minute.

My cock stiff, I ground it into her hot mound and reached back, clenched her biggish, sweet ass, cupped and held it in my hands. My word, how heavenly its heft was in my palms!

Then, still French-kissing Mom, I picked her up by her stunning, succulent, healthy thighs, propped her onto the kitchen table.

She kicked off her heels and let her hair down.

Sitting atop the table, Mom pushed me away when she saw I had unzipped my jeans' fly, and my hard dick had broken free from the slit in my boxers. It was pointing straight at her panties.

"Oh my God, what are we doing!?" She yelled. "We need to stop. Right this instant!"

"Mom, please, come on, let's have sex. Let's just try it. See how it is."

Mom stared down at my dick, examining it, and I could see she was impressed.

I'm no porn star, but I'm well-equipped. A thick, hard, 6 and a half inches. Neatly manscaped too.

"Been a while since you seen one of these, huh?" I whispered to her, suggestively, massaging her bountiful, stocking stuffed thighs.

"Here, touch it." I told her, but she remained motionless.

"Touch it." I said again, and held her right hand, placed and wrapped it around my erect dick.

"Oh," Mom mumbled, and began to jerk me off. It was sensational. Her soft little warm hand, wrapped around me.

I moved my hands upwards, took hold of her supple tits, and lowered her blouse, exposing her bra. It was white lace with a frilly trim.

Her ample cleavage was visible and impressive. I leaned in and kissed and sucked on her tits, pulled down her bra, freeing her breasts and got the whole circumference of her tender pink nipples in my mouth, returning to sucking the tits I'd once sucked ages ago.

"Nerrrrrr," Mom exclaimed. My tongue on her tits, speaking through her.

"Oh, shit, oh shit, OH SHIT!" Mom cried out. It was the first time I'd heard her curse. "The windows are open! Someone might see us! Stop it, now!"

I relented my assault on her tits and noticed she was right. There were probably laws against what we were doing. No one could see or know.

"Hold on," I said and stuffed my dick back in my pants and she quickly covered her tits by crossing her arms over them, bit down on her lower lip, looking panicked.

I ran over and adroitly pulled the latches, closed the windows and reached up into the valance, drew the eyelet curtains shut. Fortunately, the neighbor's car was gone, and no one appeared home, so I doubt anyone had seen us.

Knowing the coast was clear, I disrobed. First my blue polo shirt. Then my blue jeans and socks. Finally, I slithered off my purple silk boxers and approached my Mom, who was still atop the kitchen table, her arms still folded over her tits.

"Coast is clear," I told her, gently, my gaze penetrating deeply into the windows of her eyes. I approached her confidently, stood facing her and took hold of her arms, lightly unloosed them and watched enthralled as her beautiful breasts spilled out of her bra.

My dick was throbbing. There was only one place I wanted to put it. In between my Mom's insanely juicy thighs. Up and through her pussy lips. Into her hot wet hole. Into her paradise.

Mom suddenly gasped. She clamped her legs together.

"Honey, this, this is not a good idea. We should stop. I am going to start dinner. We should forget this happened." Mom was rambling, shaking her head. But she hadn't pulled up her bra or blouse, and I faced her, resumed sucking on her tits.

"Ahh!" she screamed. "I should make-"

I parted her legs. She didn't resist.

I went under her tight skirt. I bunched her pantyhose in my hands and slid them off her, unveiling the thickest, sexiest ivory thighs I can remember seeing.

"It is terrible," Mom whimpered. "We are terrible people. We should not-"

A tear crossed down her cheek. I thought, for a second, of stopping, but then she ran her fingers through my hair, and trickled her digits down, down my chest, circling my pecs, running over my abs, and down, further, down to my dick, which she grabbed and started jerking again.

There was no going back. "Let's try it." I whispered and licked her earlobe. Her velvet, blonde wisps teasing at my face.

She didn't respond. Her hand was still on my concrete dick while I went up her skirt again, clasped my fingers on her red cotton panties, and hoisted them down. I pushed her skirt back and beheld her naked pussy of gold.