Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy

I extricated myself from under her and went to the master bathroom. Mom could see my bare backside as I went, but I no longer cared.

I took the condom off and dumped it down the toilet. This was it. This was as far as we could go right now. It was already more than I'd ever dreamed of.

I turned back and saw Mom staring at me. No. I wasn't done yet.

I walked out of the bathroom, my flagging cock already refilling with blood. I went to my bedroom, grabbed another condom from my nightstand, and came back to Mom's bed.

Mom was still lying splayed on the bed. Like I'd murdered her there. She gave me a weak smile when she saw me come back in the room. I don't think she realized I was armed for a second attack.

I flung open the covers. For a moment, I could see Mom's bare pussy. Covered in thick, blonde pubic hair. Her labia engorged and deep pink from the stimulation, hanging wide open lewdly.

I climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over us like a vampire hiding behind his cape. I rolled Mom over. Climbed up her like she was now the tree.

"Jay?" Mom asked.

"Just cuddling," I said.

I reached down and centered my cock over Mom's snatch. Then I ground down. Both of us groaned. I was in the perfect place. Well, almost.

Again, I humped against my mother. This time, I was the aggressor. At some point both of us gave up on hiding it. We didn't say anything. Just looked into each other's eyes. A tacit acknowledgement of what we were doing.

I slid my cock back and forth over Mom's hot box. The head of my cock popped into her channel for a moment, then slid out. Mom grunted. She searched my eyes.

I waited for her to say it. If she told me to stop, I would. I told myself I would. But speaking would be crossing the line. I was counting on that, too. We were still under the covers, pretending like that made a difference.

My cockhead skimmed Mom's opening again. This time, I felt her shift her hips slightly, like trying to trap me there. But my dick slid out again, battering her little clit instead.

Mom raised her knees. She angled her ass. This time, when I slid my cock upwards, I dropped right inside her pussy.

YES!

I may have screamed it aloud. My dick slipped about halfway into Mom's cunt. I drew back, then finished filling her all the way. We were completely, truly, connected now. My cock in the place I'd come from. Buried in my own mom's pussy.

I held in place. Too overcome by what I'd accomplished to keep going. I was in Mom. Oh fuck. Even with the condom it was the best thing I'd ever felt.

I expected Mom to say something. To chide me for going this far. Instead, she lay back. Chest rising and falling fast. Her pussy walls squeezing around my latex-sheathed cock.

I realized if I waited much longer, I might lose the opportunity. I started to pump her. This was it. I was having sex with my mom. She reached up and put her hand on my cheek. It was her most overt gesture yet.

The bed rocked. Our bodies made rude squishing sounds. I plunged into Mom's waiting pussy. She raised her knees and tilted her ass. I held her hips. We moved like we were made to be this way. Mother and son. Two lovers.

Mom's pussy was plenty tight. Even better, she moved and squeezed in a way that I'd never experienced before. I was with a woman for sure. I thought all sex was the same. It didn't occur to me that there might also be skill involved. Mom was a maestro. Even as I fucked her, she guided me forward to our finish.

"Mom," I said. I couldn't help it. I was getting close, and the word slipped out.

My mother nodded. The look in her face almost too serious. My stroke stuttered. I buried myself as deep as I could. Then I unleashed a torrent of cum. Again, it foundered in the reservoir of the condom. I groaned as I emptied myself. Hips still fruitlessly trying to push farther.

Mom stroked my head as I came. She made a little coo, but I could tell she hadn't orgasmed. I was disappointed in myself for not getting her off. I worried that I'd gone too soon. Blown my one opportunity.

Finally, I finished cumming, and disengaged from my mother. I fell onto my back. Now I was the one gasping for air, lying back on the bed. Eyes focused on the surprisingly interesting ceiling.

"Well, that was nice," Mom said, "I would definitely watch that episode again.

I looked over at her, and we shared a coy smile.

*

I woke up in Mom and Dad's bed again. Mom was already up. I heard her humming to herself downstairs. I got out of bed, my legs so weak, I felt like I'd already done my morning exercise. I made myself get ready, anyway.

I don't know why I expected the day to go differently. I guess I thought that sex was simply too big to ignore. But Mom and I went for our run, took turns showering in separate bathrooms, then went about the rest of our day as if nothing had happened.

That night, we had dinner together, then Mom went upstairs before we did the dishes. I'll be honest, I was nervous about that evening. I didn't know what was going to happen. What Mom was going to let me do. I had three more condoms and I damn sure wanted to use them. Plus, I knew I needed to make Mom cum this time. I was determined to.

If she'd let me.

Mom came down the stairs in that long, green sleep shirt and something came over me. Like a switch had been flipped. She went into the kitchen. I ran upstairs to my bedroom.

I come back down the stairs on automatic. A pussy-seeking missile incapable of missing my target. I don't know what it was about that shirt. It wasn't sexy. But something about it, held me in thrall.

I walked into the kitchen. Mom was bent over the sink.

"Took you long enough," Mom said.

I didn't respond. I stood behind my mother. Reached for the hem of that lime green shirt. Slipped it up, over her hips. Bared that incredible backside.

Mom had nothing on underneath. I saw the pale skin of her rounded butt. The thick lips of her pussy. I pulled back on Mom's thighs.

"Whoa!" she said.

Before she could say anything else, I slipped my condom-covered dick inside my mother's vagina. The second time I was in Mom's pussy was very different than the first. She wasn't lubricated and so I could barely get the head of my dick in. I drew back and pushed again. Aching to be back inside my mother.

"Honey, I don't think this is..."

"Look forward," I said, "You can't be sure what's happening if you don't look."

Halfway in now. I could feel Mom's cunt lubricating, stretching, to invite my foreign invader. But then, how alien was I? After all, I'd come from that place. I was merely returning home. To where I belonged.

Fully buried in my mother again. Oh God. My balls rested against Mom's clit. My dick completely sheathed, up to her cervix. Mom stayed still. Head lolled. That damned green shirt hung over her butt again. Providing the barest bit of cover to us both.

I knew I should go slow. Savor. I couldn't control myself. I threw myself into it with my mother bent before me. Wet sounds and heady smells. I pounded my mother from behind. Fucked her as hard as I could. Rhythmic slaps crashed over the still-running water.

"Just... doing... the dishes..." Mom said, trying to preserve the fantasy that nothing was happening.

I pushed the sleep shirt up slightly. I could see Mom's tight asshole winking at me as I thrust. I slapped my palm against her butt cheek.

"Oh!" Mom said and I could tell it was more from the surprise than a pleasant feeling. She started to glance back, then stopped herself. I contented myself to grip her cheeks as I drove into her.

Her pussy was dripping now. Soaking. I felt the liquid coating my balls as they bounced back and forth. Mom was doing her best to stay quiet, but I could hear her little uhn, uhn, uhns with every stroke.

I felt a tickle at the base of my shaft. I looked down and saw that Mom had one of her hands between her legs. Rubbing herself while I rutted in her. Now we were both grunting. A shared, mother-son crescendo. The veil between what we did and what we admitted to doing was so thin now, I could break through it with a cotton swab.

Incredibly, Mom went off first. She reached back with her hand and held me still. Kept me buried as deep as she could as she came. Her cunt squeezed down. Her legs trembled. Her head hung limp over the sink.

Her grip on my leg loosened and I thought it was done. I drew back and thrust. Mom lets out a high-pitched whine as she tumbled from one orgasm to the next. I couldn't take anymore. I knew I was maybe three thrusts away. Two. One.

I groaned as the ecstasy rushed over me. One massive squirt. Then another. Filling the condom. Emptying myself. Mom rolled under me. Both of us entwined under the spell we'd created together.

I knew in that moment that Mom was truly mine.

I stepped back. Mom stayed bent over the sink. Then, like nothing had happened, she went back to washing the dishes, humming to herself tunelessly. The long green shirt hung down to her mid-thigh. My dick still hung out of my shorts. The used condom, covered in Mom's juices and filled with my semen, felt cold and slimy on my cock.

I took it off, carefully, and dumped it in the trash. Then I tucked myself away. Mom turned when she heard me closing my zip.

"You going to help here or what?" she asked. A dopey grin played on her lips. I sidled up next to her and grabbed the towel. She handed me a plate and I rubbed it dry.

"Sorry, spaced out for a minute," I said, as if any of that made sense.

"You know, I can't think of the last time I enjoyed doing the dishes that much," Mom said, she turned her head to look right at me.

"It's been a while?" I asked, unable to control the cocky grin overtaking my face.

"Decades," Mom said. She smiled right back at me.

*

For the first time in over a month, we skipped our usual TV night. We both knew why. It wasn't an ending. It was the beginning. And both of us wanted to be ready for it.

The next morning, I woke up in my own bed and it felt weird. I was so used to passing out in other places. I got dressed and found Mom waiting for me in the kitchen. Already stretching. She had on a pair of short shorts and a black sports bra. Her little bellybutton flashed as she bent to the side.

"It's super-hot out," Mom said.

I pulled my shirt off. Mom didn't bother to hide her gape. She reached out to touch my chest and I let her. Traced her fingers on my bare pecs and stomach.

"Have I told you how good you look?" Mom asked, "You're amazing."

"You too," I said, and I risked touching Mom's naked tummy. She flinched, but she didn't say anything.

"We need to get going," Mom said, "Before things get too hot to run."

We got a good start. My body felt perfectly timed, like a machine. Despite my speed, Mom stayed right behind me. I noticed how trim she looked. She caught me staring back at her and smiled.

"Eyes on your own paper, mister," she called out to me.

"You're only hanging back there to stare at my ass," I said. I had been joking, but then Mom pinked, and I realized I was right on the mark. Mom sped up and ran by my side.

"View's pretty good here, too, she said, eyeing my bare chest. I pointedly did the same. Her breasts were strapped in tight, I couldn't see a thing, but still.

"Be careful not to trip this time," I told Mom, who was studying my torso like she had an exam on it coming up. This time, she blushed so deep, I thought she might pass out.

We did a full eight miles. The most either of us had ever done. It felt easy, like I could have gone another eight if I wanted. We came home giggly. Fell onto the front lawn and rolled on the grass. Laughing under the cloudless, blue sky.

I leaned turned over and grabbed Mom's shoulders. Her eyes met mine. We were out in the middle of the neighborhood. The whole world could see us. I leaned forward. Mom's eyes met mine.

"We missed our TV night yesterday," I said.

"I was worn out from doing the dishes," Mom said. She gave me a playful grin.

"Well, I think you owe me some screen time," I said.

"Is that so?"

Mom's arms were around my waist. My hands were on her shoulders. I closed my eyes. Leaned forward. Felt Mom's breath on my lips.

Her cellphone rang.

It rang again.

She reached into her pocket and took it out. "It's your father," she said, showing me the screen. Like I needed the evidence.

I let Mom up and she leapt to her feet.

"Hey hon!" I heard her say, as the front screen door swung closed behind her. I lay back on the grass with a loud sigh.

*

I got out of the shower and got dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. When I came downstairs, I found Mom already sitting at the table. She was back in her usual uniform of a flannel shirt over a white, ribbed tank top and high-waisted jeans. A plate of waffles sat in front of her. My heart sank.

When I was a kid, whenever I had a bad day, Mom would make waffles for me. I don't know how the tradition started, but at some point, it was established that they were our comfort food. That plate was the death knell of what we'd been doing. It told me everything that Mom couldn't say.

I sat down and Mom placed two steaming circles onto my plate. She couldn't meet my eye.

"Your father's coming home tonight," Mom said, "He finally got all the paperwork through. We have to pick him up at Bradley after dinner."

"I see," I said, "You must be happy he'll be home." It was a cheap shot, I know, but Mom batted it away like a pro.

"It'll be nice to have the family all together again," she said.

"I'm sure."

I could barely taste my breakfast, but I forced myself to eat. Mom sat and watched me. She was smiling, but her eyes looked sad. I knew in that moment that Mom wasn't any happier about this than I was. Just more mature.

"It's been fun," Mom said, "the last few weeks."

"For sure," I said.

"I don't want to lose that," Mom said, "I mean, the closeness that we have."

"Me neither," I said. I reached across the table and took Mom's hand. "I'm not letting you go."

Mom nodded. She got up from the table, and I swear I heard a sniffle.

After breakfast, I helped Mom clear the table and do the dishes. I would never see that sink the same way again.

"After this, you want to watch something?" Mom asked. I nearly dropped the plate I was drying. "You know, one last time before your father gets home."

I nodded, mute. Unable to express myself anymore.

"I think my bedroom will be fine," Mom said. Her message was clear.

After we finished with the dishes, I went up to my bedroom. I grabbed both remaining condom packets and put them in my pocket. If this was the last hurrah, then I was making the most of it.

Mom was waiting in her bedroom, the blanket already up to her waist.

"Come rest your head," she told me, patting her shoulder.

I climbed under the covers and slipped off my shorts. I scooched in next to Mom, putting my head right where she wanted . I pushed my legs against Mom's and felt that she, too, was naked below the waist.

"This is the last time," Mom said, "Our last chance to do this together."

"Pretty sure we can still watch TV," I said, even though I knew exactly what she meant.

"Not like this," Mom said, and she sounded wistful. Sad.

She reached over and pushed play on my iPad. The show came on and we did something completely different. We actually cuddled. We stayed in the bed, enjoying each other's company. Mom absently stroked my head. I held her close. Strangely, it was the most intimate thing we'd done.

But biology inevitably came knocking and soon, I found myself reaching for the condoms. As soon as I opened the first one, I knew something was wrong. The latex felt dry and thin. It had clearly gone bad, so I tossed it away. I opened my last packet and, thankfully, it was fine. I guess it made sense. Last time together. Last condom.

I climbed between Mom's waiting thighs and slid inside of her. We rolled together slowly, taking our time. We didn't say anything, but we stared at each other while we made love. We didn't do anything else. No extra motions or extraneous sounds. We enjoyed the connection of our bodies. It was lovely.

Finally, I filled the condom. Then I emptied Mom. She rubbed her hand up my flank, like rewarding a racehorse after a good run. She was staring, intently, and I realized she was looking at the condom. I held it up like offering it to her. Mom shook her head and looked away.

When I came back from flushing the condom in the toilet, Mom was lying on top of the covers. She was fully dressed. This time, she patted the side of the bed where she wanted me to sit.

We lay back and watched (actually watched this time) a bunch of banal reality shows. They weren't bad, really. But nothing was better than being with Mom. The whole world seemed muted in comparison.

We ate a staid, almost funereal dinner. As I chewed, I mentally reviewed everything that had happened the past month or so. How Cassie had broken up with me. How Mom and I started watching movies together. Starting to run with Mom. Starting to do, um, other things with Mom. Painting her nails in the backyard. Painting her pussy with my tongue in her bedroom. And then, finally, the two of us becoming one.

It was over.

I knew it was going to be hard, but both of us would move on. This time would be a passing reverie. A fever dream of sounds and sentiments. Something that neither of us would ever admit to, but in our secret hearts would share forever.

Mom would go back to her life. I'd meet a girl and marry. In stolen moments, we'd share a sneaking smile, but that was all. And even then, we'd wonder if it was all imagined. A skip in time. A blip where the world paused and we slipped around the seconds like phantoms.

Mom's phone buzzed and she looked down at it.

"Your father's flight is delayed," she said. A moment later the phone rang. Mom pushed the button to answer it on speaker, sliding her cell into the middle of the table.

"Hi David!" Mom said, remarkably cheerful. "Jay and I are here -- we saw about your flight. That sucks!"

"It's fine," Dad said. His voice was tired. "I just can't wait to get home."

"I'm sure," Mom said, "We'll have the bed all set up and ready for you." I thought that was a strange thing to promise, but in the context of what we'd been doing in there, I'm sure it was an important detail to Mom.

"Whatever," Dad said, "You're still going to come get me."

"Yes, Jay's all set to come pick you up," Mom said. She smiled at me, warmly.

"Don't just send the kid, Julie, seriously," Dad said. Something about how he called me 'the kid' made me wonder if he realized I was on the phone, too. Mom had clearly said I was there, hadn't she?

"Oh, definitely," Mom said, "I can't wait to see you, too. But I'm sure, if he had to, Jay would be fine on his own."

"Jesus Julie, look. I know that Jay's your sweet little boy or whatever, but even you have to admit, he's not exactly firing on all cylinders."

"He's right... He's listening to..." Mom tried to interrupt him, but Dad plowed forward.

"I mean, the kid's almost 19 and I barely trust him to drive to the supermarket for milk without getting in two accidents on the way and bringing home eggs, instead. Let alone the hour's drive up to Bradley and back in the middle of the night."

Mom looked at me, ashamed. As if this was somehow her fault. Both of us flushed. I felt embarrassed. Angry. All of it. Still Dad kept going.

"He must've gotten the brains from your family, Julie," Dad said, "Seriously, it's a good thing you were pretty when you were younger, or you wouldn't even have gotten this far."

"Have you been drinking, dear?" Mom asked.

"Only a little while I'm waiting for my flight," Dad said, "OK -- I'm going to go. 12:30, don't forget. I'll text you when I'm boarding."