Mom is a Mess

"Fuck!" Mom blurted, looking around at the carnage. "This is going to take all night to clean up."

"I'll help," I offered.

"Thanks, hun. I don't suppose it's worth cleaning ourselves up until we deal with this first." She slapped her hands onto the sloppy floor, playing like a naughty toddler in a mud puddle.

"Let me take care of your foot first; it's liable to get infected."

"Okay." She kicked off her heels and stood with great care, walking gingerly to the sink to clean her hands and face. Globs of chili cheese rolled down her clothes, dropping back into the mayhem that coated the tile floor. Her skirt stuck to her legs and rivulets of thick yellow sludge slid down her calves.

I stood up and joined her and we alternated turns under the warm water, vainly cleaning ourselves as best we could. Satisfied, at least temporarily, I took Mom by the hand and led her into the bathroom leaving red and yellow footprints in our wake. It couldn't be helped; the first aid supplies were in a cabinet above the toilet.

"Sit," I said, motioning down at the porcelain bowl.

"Ugh, we're just making an even bigger mess."

"What do you want me to do?" I could have gotten down on the floor and further spread our filth, but that was what I'd hoped to avoid in the first place. "Are there any clothes here we can change into?"

"Just aprons." Mom shook her head in thought. "You know what? Fuck it." She began unbuttoning her blouse and my eyes went wide. Sure, I'd seen her in a bikini and caught the occasional flash of undies, but this felt different. Whatever had come over me was not going to do well with this turn of events. For the third time that night, I felt my pants tighten in her presence.

Her blouse undone, I fought and lost to the urge to examine her chest. It was tanned and lightly-freckled, with ample cleavage thanks to her padded push-up bra which was once a pristine white. Chili had managed to get through her shirt and stain the delicate fabric. Her breasts were perfect by my standards; far from obscene yet certainly more than I felt worthy to handle.

I forced myself to reach down and adjust my unruly erection while Mom was busy examining the blotches of sauce that dotted her bra. I kept my eyes on her, though, and just managed to swallow a gasp as she stepped out of her soiled skirt. Try as I might, I couldn't unglue my pupils from the luscious lump that bulged from beneath her shiny satiny panties. The errant hairs reappeared, once again asserting the feminine secrets she kept hidden under that thin layer of fabric.

"Jax? Up here," Mom giggled. My face lit on fire as I met her gaze. "I know this is a little weird, but let's just get it over with, okay? I want to get at least a few hours of sleep tonight."

I nodded, though my quivering lip and raging hardon betrayed my feelings. A little weird, she said. Fucking ridiculous is more like it. But I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her giggle and that helped temper the insanity that roiled my mind.

"Okay, your turn," Mom stated. I gave her a confused look, my brain yet unwilling to engage.

"Strip!" she barked. "Come on, let's go." She clapped her hands impatiently, jostling the supple flesh her bra failed to cover.

I couldn't. My prick would betray me. I bit my lip and shook my head, embarrassed beyond words.

"Aw, hun, it's ok. It's not like I haven't seen it all before."

Not like this, you haven't.

"C'mere," she said, waving me towards her. She tossed her dirty clothes out the door and into the kitchen and then lifted my shirt over my head. I'll admit my body was nothing to be ashamed of; sports kept me in shape, and I'd spent enough time in the gym to add bulk to my lean frame. Her fingers moved to my jeans. I felt her hovering over my hardness, though tucked away as it was, she probably didn't notice. That was surely about to change.

Mom undid my button and then reached into my fly and unzipped halfway. With a tug from my hips, she jerked my soiled sticky jeans down in one swift movement. Too swift. My tighty-whities clung to the saturated denim and dropped in unison. Out flopped my raging erection and I about fainted.

"Oh dear," Mom uttered under her breath. Her knees wobbled and she dropped onto the toilet seat.

"I'm sorry!" I cried. I fought the reflex to cover myself with my hands, thinking that could easily result in further embarrassment given my excited state.

"Honey, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I couldn't help it," I whined, unable to find any excuse that would make it okay.

Mom made no motion to hide my shame so I did it myself, reaching down and lifting up my briefs. Only then did she move, quickly impeding my attempt. I looked down in confusion to see her hands grasping my wrists and her eyes transfixed on my throbbing cock.

"M...m...mom?" I stuttered. I felt her breath on my crotch, breezing through my curly hairs and tickling my sensitive skin with its muggy heat.

She didn't move. Deer in headlights. I'd have given her my next paycheck to know her thoughts but I dared not speak.

Then it happened. Boundaries came crashing down. Taboos were destroyed. Universes shattered, thrown to the winds. My ferocious mother came roaring back to life and swallowed me whole. Her soft lips wrapped around my cock and she sucked with an intensity that sent my head into the clouds. One hand shot out and cradled my balls, the second gripping tightly around my shaft, pumping in time with her bobbing head while her tongue whirled like a dervish around my flared tip. Within seconds, I was done. I cried out and clenched, then exploded into her torrid clutches, gushing spurt after spurt onto her tongue. Time stood still again as I emptied into Mom's mouth, moaning and twitching as she hummed in delight and rattled me to my core.

And then it was over. With a wet smack, she let me go and tugged up my white briefs. I stared down at her in disbelief, unable to process what debauchery had just occurred. Mom met my gaze with an intensity that I'd rarely seen anymore. It wasn't the same sad, broken, tired look I'd grown accustomed to for so many years. It was as if she'd finally found a corner of the world to claim as her own.

I refused to be the first one to speak. She had to explain herself; I had to know what this was.

"I saw you looking at me this morning, Jax. And I felt that thing when I fell on top of you. Your mother is not a fool."

I shook my head. I very much agreed, but that was beside the point.

"I'm also not a slut. So take what I just did as a compliment. And a downpayment for the mess you're about to help me clean up."

A downpayment?! That implication was not at all lost on me, as I'm sure she intended. All I could do was squeak out a meager, "Okay."

"Now, patch me up so we can get to it!" she demanded, her impatience returning with a vengeance.

I pulled the first aid kit from the wall and found the requisite supplies. Kneeling, I picked up her foot and began cleaning the spilled food and blood from around her wound. The cut was ugly but not deep, though it had to hurt something fierce. A large ugly bruise was already forming from the impact, spreading across half of the bridge of her lovely arched foot. Once clean, I coated the wound in antibacterial cream and wrapped a bandage over top.

As I cradled her precious toes, I felt the heat rise again; only now with fostered confidence and a sense of intense longing. This time I had the courage to do something about it. And I did.

I kissed the bandaid, a harmless enough act in and of itself, but then I trailed a tongue over the bridge of her foot and down to her toes. I tickled in between each, dodging and weaving in circles and drawing each pudgy digit into my mouth one by one, tasting the soiled tangy remains of spilled chili and creamy queso. I paid no attention to Mom as she made no effort to end my depraved podophiliac worship. It wasn't until I heard her moan that I looked up at her body, finding it slouched against the toilet, dressed in stained underwear, with her head lolling back and eyes closed in bliss.

Taking her evident enjoyment as further invitation, I continued my ministrations, trailing my tongue up her lean calf and around her knee. She spread herself open for me and took hold of my short brown hairs as I continued kissing up her soft inner thigh until I could smell her heavy musk. Then I paused and glanced between her legs, seeing a dark wet spot bloom deep in the gusset of her silvery-white panties. She shifted down, draping her leg over my shoulder and urged me in, oblivious to the consequences of our illicit actions.

I drove into Mom with my nose, inhaling her bittersweet feminine scent and pressing into the soft piles of flesh that remained hidden beneath her underwear. She growled, the ferocity returning as she reached down and unceremoniously pulled her panties to the side and exposed her most private of places. Bare dark lips stared back at me, topped with a tangle of curly ash-brown hair and split by a crinkled pair of glistening pink slivers that parted to reveal the darkest of depths. It was forbidden; the place from whence I came, but I cared no longer. Reason was never to be part of this carnal relationship.

Tongue extended, I pushed into her wetness, diving straight for her center with a hunger that matched her own moments before. I shook my head, pushing the crest of my nose across her swollen folds as I probed deep inside Mom's forbidden heat. Her puffy lips wrapped around my cheeks, engulfing my face in a slippery warm embrace. I feasted on her tenderest of places, twirling my tongue in circles through her tensing tunnel, feeling her rippled walls clench and hearing her cries of passion reverberate around the small room. Then, with one final ferocious attack, I latched on to her fleshy nub and sucked with all the force I had, gnashing my teeth and lashing out with my tongue, seeking to bring her to climax with the same intensity she showed me. An earth-shattering scream and gush of wetness told me I'd accomplished my task and with a loud smack I let Mom's swollen red pussy loose and sat back on my feet as she moaned and rocked side to side on her ivory throne.

"Fuuuuuck!" she howled, this time sounding so different than the other expletives I'd heard her expel that day.

Proud of what I'd done, I smiled. She still hadn't made eye contact with me, but I could see her eyelids flutter as she clutched her sopping crotch, still riding the waves of pleasure that I'd coaxed from her sad worn-out body. Figuring it wise to leave her to her enjoyment, I stood and gathered my dirty clothes, tossing them onto the pile with Mom's blouse and dress outside the door. I gathered up a variety of cleaning supplies and set them into a stack of buckets and left, more than content to just let her be for a spell.

Stepping back out into the chili cheese apocalypse, I couldn't help but laugh at the mess. I could see the imprints of our bodies where we'd fallen and where Mom had sat before we'd washed in the sink. I licked my lips, staring down at the destruction, tasting Mom, and debating how best to tackle the chili con carnage while idly wishing I had a snow shovel. Opting for the next best thing, I grabbed a dustpan and began scooping up the slop, ushering into the tapered plastic run with my free hand and then pitching the soupy mixture into the trash. After a few dozen rounds, I had the bulk of the mess contained and set to the job of deep cleaning the floor and surrounding appliances.

I caught a flash of white movement while I was bent scrubbing the front of the oven and lifted my head to see Mom standing in the doorway of the bathroom dressed in her once-white bra and panties. Her face was pink, her undies were damp, her bra was stained, her legs were streaked red and yellow, and her hair was an absolute disaster. But she looked happier than I could ever remember.

Not wanting to mince words, I simply said, "Sponges are in the sink. I think I got the worst of it." She nodded and I watched her walk by, ogling her broad hips and bouncy butt as she stepped barefoot over the tile floor. Her bottom was stained red, a result of her rolling off my body into a puddle of chili. For a split second, I wanted to laugh at her misfortune, but that seemed like a very cruel thing to do given the circumstances. Mom's ass certainly did not deserve to be patronized, though rarely did she show it off anymore, opting for flowing skirts and dresses that hid her most impressive curves. It probably had something to do with her randy clientele and the lonely late-night wackos that frequented the diner. I knew she'd had more than one creep try to cop a feel, and even though a loose skirt offered less protection, at least it left plenty to the imagination.

My productivity dropped by several factors of ten once Mom joined the work party. Between watching her breasts bulge, threatening to spill from her bra as she bent down and the sight of her sodden panties pulling tight between her thighs, I was effectively useless. My cock reared its sensitive swollen head again and I did what I could, despite my condition and preference to simply stare at Mom's mostly-naked body as she toiled at a job she'd done for nearly half her life. I considered that if this could be the last kitchen she'd ever cleaned then I'd be the happiest person alive. To give her the gift of freedom and a life of fulfillment and meaning, as she'd given me, would truly be the greatest act of my life.

That happy thought occupied my mind and softened my britches as I toiled alongside my beautiful filthy mother, cleaning up the mess she'd made. We found our moments of fun between the dirty monotony, splashing each other with suds, flicking bits of chili meat back and forth; enjoying each others company as we rarely had time to do anymore. It was during one of these displays of lively flirting that I finally worked up the nerve to kiss her, darting in as she reared back to smear a handful of liquid cheese on my face and surprising her with my eager lips. She moaned into my mouth and her jaw went slack. Our tongues met and I joined her restless movements, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing our messy bodies together.

Mom returned my embrace, though with but one arm, circling my shoulders and caressing my muscled back. My cock sprang to life against her smooth undulating thigh and I felt her hand slide slowly down my flank. I gasped through flared nostrils as she wrapped her fingers around my stiffness, focusing with practiced motions on my tender domed tip, pinching the fabric of my briefs and twirling in circles over my most sensitive skin. I broke free of our passionate kiss and panted, the whites in my eyes grew as I felt her slip into the elastic band of my underwear. She pulled it away from my body and brought it down under my dangly bits.

Then, in an act that would stay with me forever, Mom looked into her free hand, an oozing pile of yellow sauce in its palm. A wicked playful grin spread across her face and she reached down slowly, tantalizingly displaying her devilish intent. Her tongue darted out from her teeth and she bit it, her face still split by an impish smirk. Then I felt it; the warm gushing grasp circling my cock, overflowing with soupy slick cheese sauce that now creatively doubled as some sort of dairy-based lubricant. I leaned my head back and moaned at the stained ceiling as her skilled hands started moving in earnest. I couldn't watch. I'd never be able to eat nachos again.

Double-fisted seemed to be Mom's favored approach, at least when cheese sauce was in play, though I doubted she'd ever had the opportunity to practice this level of debasement on anyone else but I, her loving son. Squelching pops bounced off the stainless steel walls of the kitchen as Mom jerked my cock; one hand held tight around its base, yellow sauce oozing from between her clenched callused fingers, and her second hand flying over my acorn tip. The skill and haste at which she operated were beyond anything I'd ever felt. Granted, I had never been an expert at prolonging the experience, as she was moments from discovering for the second time.

"Mooooooooom!" I howled and spilled into her grip.

"That's it, hun, let it all out," she purred.

I throbbed and throbbed, unable to stop the twitching convulsions because she wouldn't let me. My hips flailed out of control as I tried to flee her touch, the intense sensitivity causing my cock to want nothing more than to be left alone. After what seemed an eon, I calmed and she graciously gave me peace. Only then did I look down. My mind saw one thing and one thing only, and in doing so, ruined a completely different dish than I had anticipated. I was a corndog coated in mustard. With a little Twinkie thrown in, I considered, as I noticed my cream-filled center had been squeezed into Mom's open palm.

In case you were wondering: Twinkies are all good; I can and do still eat them. But I don't go sucking the middle out. That's just gross.

It turned out I had no time for further food-related analogies as Mom was not quite done with me yet. She brought her hand to her lips and licked it clean, slurping and lapping at my cheezy spunk, all the while glaring into my depraved soul. Then she moaned. And by moaned, I mean she looked at me with parted lips and did the thing women can do to tell a man in one long drawn-out animalistic throat-rattling syllable that a thousand words could not hope to convey.

Fuck! She was hot. And she still wasn't finished. My dribbling and quickly-diminishing cock gained her attention and she set her skills as a professional cleaner to work on it. Her tongue and lips covered every surface as she bathed me in spit and sucked every last fleck of yellow sauce from my skin. By the time she'd finished, I was rock hard, bouncing and hoping for more. But it was not to be.

Mom patted my dancing prick and cooed, "Down boy." I groaned as she stood and turned away in denial, pulling up my briefs and leaving them tented to advertise my displeasure at her untimely retreat. Had she simply stopped with the cheese job, I'd have happily tucked away my dirty package and called it good. I was due for a shower anyway and my junk was no stranger to crusty deposits. But no, she had to taunt me again and thus leave my brain devoid of the blood required to finish our work in the kitchen.

After several minutes spent staring at the wall and with no desire to see the color yellow for a time, I set to work on the only available task: fixing the fridge. I carefully emptied the top shelf, praying that the remaining brackets would hold long enough for me to eliminate the strain. They did, and a third messy disaster was averted. I went to the closet where the owner kept his tools and located a screw of suitable size and the appropriate driver to twist it in place. Three minutes later, all was well; no further chili avalanches should befall Mom, and I was satisfied by a job well done.

"Nice work," I heard over my shoulder.

"Thanks!" I said in response and turned to face her. Mom was a mess. Twice the mess as when we started. A hundred times the mess as she was at lunch. But the kitchen was spotless and it wasn't even that late, just past midnight.

"Gods, look at you, Jax!" Mom glared at me, her eyes traveling up and down, twinkling with mirth.

"You're not exactly in your prime either, Ma." I never called her 'Ma' and I don't know why I did just then, but it fit; she didn't look like Mom anymore. And even after she cleaned up, I didn't think she would ever again appear the same. What we had just done defied all explanation and redefined reason. I shook my head slowly, unable to stop my body from expressing the crazy shit that was rolling around my brain.