Finding Our Way Bk. 02

She paused for a moment. "Okay, Baby. But I really meant it. I'm still washing the veggies for dinner."

"Does that mean you're showering?"

"I mean real actual vegetables. For eating. Haven't even begun to chop."

Sometimes I would forget that we weren't using code any more. "Whatever, Mom. I won't slow you down from the food prep too much. I just want to ask if you're wearing a skirt."

"Yeah, I am Hon. But not a pencil skirt from work. I changed into that mid-thigh wavy brown and white one that goes with my fuzzy white sweater."

"Sounds perfect. Are you wearing anything under your skirt?"

"Actually, I put on a new lacy pair of light purple undies I thought you might like."

I revved the engine, but then forced myself to slow down. That sounds nice, Mom, but I want you to take them off and then go back to making dinner."

"Anything you say, Baby. As long as I'm not sporting the purple, would you like me to put on a pair of black thigh-high stockings?" We'd come to know each other so well by this time. She'd heard the flatness in my voice, and knew something was bothering me. The offer to put on the stockings was her way of showing her understanding and desire to help.

But I was just too pissed off to really express any appreciation. I'd thank her for it later. For the time being I just said, "I want you exactly as you are, minus those panties. Don't bother doing anything else. Just slip those purples off, and get back to prepping dinner."

"Okay, they're off. I think you'll really like them when you see them."

I took a deep breath, and reminded myself not to be an asshole to my mother. She wasn't the one I was angry at. "I bet I'll love their smell and their look, and I promise I'll tell you the second I want you to put them on."

In a playful pouty voice she said, "Aww! You never tell me to put clothes on. You only ever tell me to take them off."

We both chuckled at that, and I answered, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, my sweet man."

"I'll try to remember to have you model those sexy purple undies for me later. For now just the regular clothes sans panties."

"You will have me any way you want me, my son."

"I know. See you soon."

We said the last few love-yous and byes and the connection was broken.

I made the rest of the drive home without incident.

***

I parked in the garage, and came in through the back door.

"Hi!" said Mom. She was wearing an extra tight fuzzy white sweater and a pleated brown and white skirt, as promised. She walked calmly up to me, and put her arms around me. We kissed for a moment during which she rubbed my arms, and let her flat tummy rub gently against my groin. "You sounded pretty down on the phone, so I threw dinner together and set it cooking." The smell of tomatoes, zucchini, mozzarella and Italian spices filled the room. The kitchen table was bare, but I could see the living room table was set for two. A pair of frilly purple panties had been hung over the back of my seat. "I put it together as a casserole, so it will need a good 45 minutes to an hour. Longer if we want. I was just working on a salad, or there's time for a drink or...whatever you'd like."

She caressed my ass, and looking in her eyes soothed me. But all I could say was, "Sounds great. Why don't you go ahead and finish up your salad, and then I'll tell you about what happened today."

She looked unsure about me for a moment, and said, "Okay. I'll just chop up the last stick of celery, and then I want to hear all about it." She began to walk towards the chopping board resting on the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Whatever it is, I'm happy to do whatever I can to help. Even if that means just..."

Mom stopped talking then. I'd followed her to the station. I'd already lifted the brown and white striped skirt, and was reaching my right arm around her pinched waistline cupping her bare (except for the tiny strip of black pubic hair) mons and the lips below it. She put her hands flat on the counter top, and slumped, allowing her to push her groin forward into my hand and lean back against my chest.

"Ohh," she cooed. I brought my left around the other side and squeezed her bound chest through the sweater."Ohhhhh, that's so nice, Baby." She tipped her head back against my clavicle.

I pulled her lower body closer, so I could feel her ass against my groin.

"Hmmm." She almost purred.

I nuzzled her ear, and asked her very politely to, please, reach behind her and unzip my fly. She giggled, and reached back. With practiced and confident hands, she had my trousers and my boxers falling to my ankles. I pressed my middle and ring fingers into her crease, and then spread them; opening my mother's already-syrupy vagina.

"Ohh Kevin, yes. Yes, right here my sweet man. My great lover." She put her left hand back onto the counter, and leaned a bit forward. With her right hand, still behind her, she began guiding my cock to her hole. She giggled again. "Give Momma a taste of the good stuff." She pushed her adorable buns back, fucking her way onto my dick. I put my hands on her hips, and held her still, teasing her with the tip plus an inch or so. She started gasping, sharp sudden intakes of breath.

I could feel her shaking through her hip bones at my fingertips. Excitement? Anticipation? Frustration? Hard to say in the moment, but Mom was determined to play along, whatever the game; especially if it involved me putting my pole inside her. "Oh? Is that all Mommy gets?" Her voice was shaking, as she held as still as she could to be sure to retain what I was giving her. "Is it just Hors d'œuvres for noh...Ah! AHHH, Yeh-heah! Yes!"

I'd gone from 1 to 120 immediately, and her powerful-yet-soft cunt welcomed every thrust. I pulled the front of her sweater up, exposing her 36-C'S to the air (there was no room for a bra under a sweater that tight.) I took a mammary in each hand and began to throw into my mother's derriere with even more speed and power.

"WOOO!" mom cried, "Now THAT'S what you needed...UH!...Isn't that right, Kevin, Baby...Ohfuckyes!...That's right you hot motherfucker...OH! Oh, god, my pussy is just burning up, Baby...give it all to Momma! GIVE IT ALL TO MOMMA! UH! Whatever it is! Ohfuck! Whatever happened! Yeah! Just give it to Momma...OhfuckI'mcomming! Give it to my pussy, Kevin! OH! OH FUCK YES! SLAM IT IN MY PUSSY! MAKING ME COME! TAKE IT OUT ON MY POOR LITTLE PUSSY BABY, AND I'LL COME ALL OVER YOUR DICK AND MAAAAAAYYYYEEAAAHH!!" She came hard all over my rod, but I wasn't done. I kept pounding away at her little bottom, and I noticed she was whimpering. I'd been rolling naked with my mother for two years by his time, so I knew that I'd only just scratched the surface of what she could handle. I knew there was no need to slow down. In fact, she'd probably have complained if I did. I kept fucking her and squeezing those tits and pinching her nipples like a maniac until the whimpers became whoops of joy again. She got vocal, as always, but the pounding I was giving her between the legs had reduced her to the single word, "Yes!" stretched to varying lengths, pitches, speeds and volumes.

I reached back down, and grabbed her hips again. I slowed down to grind circles into my mom each time I bottomed out. I didn't bother massaging her clit like I ordinarily would, but Mom didn't indicate if she'd noticed. She bent over to push her ass at me forcefully, and juiced all over my balls again. I grunted at the sight of my mother's sweaty buns, the smell of her sex obliterating all other smells in the kitchen and the force of her cunt muscles smashing down on my rod.

At the sound of my grunt, Mom started shrieking and rolling her hips into me like a pole dancer might. Her juices flowed yet again, and I blew my cream balls deep in my mother's receptive pussy. The relief I felt ejaculating into Mom was incredible. Like my balls had gathered up my troubles, and shot them ecstatically out of my dick hole. Mother dear was happy to take it all and take it deep.

She laid her upper body onto the counter, and let her legs just hang there for a moment. I pulled out, and sank to the floor. "Wow!" she said to a plate of cherry tomatoes in front of her nose. She oozed off the counter to the floor. When she turned to face me, there were several leaves of iceberg lettuce stuck to her torso.

I chuckled, "With presentation like that, I'm likely to eat salad three meals a day."

She pulled a piece of a leaf from her ribs, just under her right breast, and bit it in half. She winked at me with a bright smile. She lifted her other arm for a moment, and then let it drop. "Ugh, I can't move, Kevin. Get the salad dressing. After the way you just did me, Babe, I'm not getting up. Dinner's on the floor tonight." We both cracked up. Damn! I loved her company even more than I loved her physical charms.

After catching my breath, I turned the oven down (as per Mom's instructions.) I helped her take off her fuzzy white sweater, and promised to bring it to the dry cleaner on my way to work. It was my fault it was stained with juices from a cherry tomato and some leftover chunks of bell pepper. Mom stood with her arms up, as I removed the garment. Her breasts bounced when I finally got it off her head. She smiled and said, "Thanks." Then she slowly hooked her arms around my neck and pulled me to her for a sweet wet kiss.

"No, thank you, Mom. I needed that, and I'm so lucky to have you willing to just let me... you know, without having to explain everything up front."

"My pleasure. Really!" she said. "You may have needed it, but I'm thanking heaven that I got to give it to you. I think you may be due for some more soon, but let's eat. As for explanations, Kevin, you'll be ready to tell me soon enough." I kissed her again. "Mmm. I love what you do to me. Now, you don't mind if I put on a new blouse or sweater, do you? The kitchen's warm, but I'd be a bit chilly in the dining room."

"Why don't you put on some lingerie? Nothing over the top. Just something soft, and... ready."

"Still skip the panties. Got it. Any specific requests?"

"Maybe one of your chemises." But then I thought about the tone of this conversation. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to tell you what to do. Wear what you want. I just want to look at you and feel comfortable. I don't want to control everything."

Mom could see I was getting upset again. She squeezed my shoulders with surprising strength, and said, "Relax, Kevin. I get the picture. Mommy will take care of everything from here. Go on and sit down. I want you to stay in that suit. You can loosen your tie and loose the jacket if it'll make you feel more comfortable. But I want you at least a little dressed up while I sit with you dressed down."

With that she sauntered off to our bedroom with long legged strides, unzipping the side of her skirt as she went. I sat in my chair, and found it uncomfortable. I reached behind me to find her purple panties there, to hold me over until my mother's return.

She had baked ziti into the casserole. The noodles were swamped with molten cheese, rich marinara sauce, thick slices of tomatoes, bits of onions, pieces of zucchini that had been fried once before being put in; fresh basil leaves...the works! The top was slightly crunchy, and the whole dish was from another world. We did manage to salvage the salad. And we had white rolls for dipping.

We ate in silent afterglow, just smiling knowingly at one another. She'd chosen a cinnamon red chemise. No shoes or socks. As I was dipping my bread into the remains of my baked ziti, I observed that I was a little bit surprised at her choice. "That red doesn't go at all with these purple panties," I said waving her underwear at her.

She looked down at her plate, and smirked. "Yeah. I guess you'll have to take this off of me before you can put those on me." I closed my eyes and nodded, and chuckled without a sound at myself. I could never out pillow-talk my mother.

I heard her fork clatter, and opened my eyes. But she was nowhere to be seen. "Mom?" I said softly. Then I felt her hands on my thighs under the table. It scared the hell out of me, to be honest. She hadn't been under there in over a year, when we first came together, so I really didn't expect it. Zzzip. And now she was reaching into the fly of my trousers. "Fuck, Mom."

"Easy there, Kevin," she said, and then licked the length of the erection she'd given me with her words a moment ago. She wasn't even looking up at me, too busy stroking and staring. "I'm going to have my desert now," Lick, suckle, pop of release. "And when you've given me every drop of it, you'll feel much more relaxed. Then Mommy is going to curl up with you and you can tell me what's been bothering you." And suddenly more than half of my boner was in the dark wet depths of my mother's mouth.

It was much like any of the other blow jobs my mom had given me: Fucking Magical! Her lustrous black hair covered most of the action this time, but I'd watched closely and often enough to know exactly what was going on. She alternated between shallow (holding the head in her mouth and swirling her tongue around and around it) and deep. We'd read and watched plenty of porn together, and she had noticed that the real oral sex artists would sort of shake their heads and hum when they had a boner all the way down their throats. She claimed that she was still practicing - still trying to perfect her technique - but it was pretty mind blowing already.

I've got to say, when your mother has the body of a lean MILF porn star it's easy to get hard whenever she wants you to. But when you know that she's got the face of a cover girl, even in her 40's, and she's stuffing that beautiful face with your hard on... well, it's no problem putting that cum down her throat.

Only at the beginning did she put my balls in her mouth. The rest of the time Mom bobbed and dipped and sucked and hummed in my lap while dragging her fingernails along my thighs. She kept my member warm and wet, occasionally pulling it out of her mouth to lick, kiss or simply rub it on her face.

I gently traced the crown of her head, and then pulled away as the first jets of cum erupted into her mouth. She sucked and slurped with inspired greed. When she'd drawn every drop into her mouth, she released my Johnson into her left hand. Mom simply cupped my diminishing erection, keeping it warm as best she could. But she didn't come out from under the table. She laid her head on my left thigh, and rocked quietly forward and back. She whimpered softly into my leg, but beyond that sound I could hear the sucking sounds of her right hand surging in and out of her wet cunt below.

There was none of her usual filthy talk. She only moaned softly, and occasionally kissed my leg or the base of my now flaccid penis. Despite how the scene looked, the atmosphere was not submissive at all. It was purely intimate (though it can be both of course.) I stroked her scalp with one hand as she brought herself to a long groaning orgasm, and I brought my wine glass to my lips with the other hand.

My mother rested down there for about two more minutes before tucking me back in, and zipping me back up. From under the table I heard her voice, almost a whisper. "Hold me," she said.

I scooted back, and drew her up onto my lap. She curled up, and nuzzled into my neck. I had the random thought, no one would believe we're mother and son if they saw us like this. The thought was absurd, of course. What, I countered to myself, would someone call us an adorable image of maternal love if they watched Mom bouncing on my balls and screaming praises of my dick in our bedroom? I kept these thoughts to myself as Mom rubbed my chest and kissed me on the collar bone.

She took a deep breath, pulling what little remained of my cologne into her nose, and sighed a long and satisfied release. "Now," she said without looking up. "Tell me about your day."

***

Running my hands along her flank, I told her about the firings. My boss - Ross Keely, the kind of slimy bastard you think only appears in TV shows or movies - was entirely to blame for the loss of an account that I had worked and fought like crazy to acquire for our firm. He couldn't blame me, because I had already been tasked elsewhere (wooing two other leads.) So he told me that I was going to have to fire two people who worked under me. He insisted that the reports they'd prepared failed to update him on all the details he'd needed to keep the client happy.

"Apparently, Keely needs to be told directly by people two ranks below him not to hit on the wives of our client's VP's."

"How does a guy like that get to keep his job after something like that?"

"No one wants to get sued. The client doesn't want to be explicit about what happened, because Keely might sue them, individually or corporately, for slander or something like that. So Mr. James, above Keely, doesn't have a clear story about what happened; just that they're going another way with a company that maintains a 'more similar corporate culture.' Keely made up some story about some kind of misstep that could've been avoided if my people had informed him. I don't even know the details. The bottom line is that without the client, we're making less money, which means that someone has to go to keep the firm profitable...and I have to punish two guys who did their jobs perfectly."

"That's awful, honey." She rubbed my arms. "Would you like some desert?" She started to get up, and groaned a little bit, stiff from hunkering on my lap for so long.

"No thanks, Mom. Let's just clean up and go to bed."

"Skip the cleaning up." She took my hand and pulled me to my feet, and then began pushing me towards our bedroom. "Get in the bed." I began to object about the mess in the kitchen. It wasn't so bad, but... "I've got the day off tomorrow. I'll just clean it up in the morning and go to a later ballet class."

This was not an unusual thing. Mom and the other secretaries traded hours and covered for each other all the time. She'd learned the job well, and as a part time employee, she didn't cost the company she worked for as much as a full timer would. They needed her more than she needed them, so she got a lot of slack when she wanted time off or to leave early for a "family emergency" (which usually meant wrapping her legs around her son.)

Beside our bed, she undressed me, and laid me down. She didn't do any kind of sultry strip tease or anything. We were still in a very serious mood, so she lifted her chemise up over her head, and tossed it onto a nearby chair. I never tire of watching her breasts fall free from her clothes. I never stop being awed by just how fit and sexy she keeps her body, already in her mid-forties. No way has she deserved a figure like that. No way have I deserved to lie with her every night. I figure there's nothing to be done about it but to be grateful and enjoy.

She lay her smooth warm skin across mine, and kissed my neck again. Her hair spread along her back and onto my chest. She nuzzled up against me, and I put my arm around her. My hands went automatically to caressing and feeling her miraculous contours. We both still had more to say, so I neither pinched nor prodded any part of her. I cupped her shoulder, and ran my hand down her back and fanned my fingers across her bottom. The other hand began at the knee, and ran up her outer thigh to her hip, down the pinch of her waist and then up again to her soft cushions. Like I've said, I didn't squeeze or pinch. I just cupped them and rubbed them. We kissed softly for a while, and she ran her hands along my torso, dipping her fingers between my abs and between my pecs.