Motherfriend

"Honey. I don't want to be a prying or controlling mom. But...have you had sex?"

Since I wasn't sure how to answer that question right now, I didn't.

"I mean, have you had much chance to have sexual experiences of any kind with a girl?"

"Hm. Yeah. Not really."

"Cause it's a really important thing. To please a woman. Sexually." At this point I was massaging the arch near the ball of her foot pretty intensely. "I mean every woman remembers her first time." She paused. "Or at least, her first couple times. I guess...what I'm saying," she said haltingly as I pushed into her arch firmly, "is that..." I began stroking slowly up and down. "Ohhh...".

Like I said, I knew how to dance with my mother.

"...I've never thought sex was something two kids should just...fumble their way into. And that's how the first time usually is. Fumbling, and awkward...and for many women it can be a real let-down. Oh yes...yeah that's good there...oh that's good..."

I'd begun to work my hands up toward her calve, kneading gently so as not to tickle her. My hard-on pushed still more uncomfortably against my jeans even though I'd hoped it would lose its drive by now. I found myself wondering what my mother would look like in the nude. I thought back to that morning of discovery, what a shock it'd been to see her sex right there, just a scant couple feet or so before me. Found my eyes looking longingly into her nether because it was still there before me, somehow so much more reachable, touchable than before....

"Honey," my mom began. Then there was a long pause.

I worked my fingers up around her knees.

"Honey." Again, a pause. I firmly rubbed around the base of her thigh.

Then. "I want to do something for you."

All I can say about that next long moment of silence is that, as hard as this might seem to believe, I sincerely didn't see where this was going. My mind was like that coyote that stumbles off the cliff-top in his desperate need to catch the bird, but then stares wonderingly about, hovering in mid-air, slowly reaching down and feeling the absence of firm ground below him....

I guess I assumed we were still talking uncomfortably about girlfriends and first-times and stuff.

"Can you turn out the lamp next to you," was all she said. In that moment the realization came slamming down on me. And I was like a deer in the head-lights, scrambling to decide whether to flee or freeze.

I reached up slowly and clicked off the small lamp, still thinking this was somehow going to go in some completely ordinary direction. But my body had actually begun to tremble, uncontrollably so. The room was lit by the TV, though my mother was reaching to turn off the volume off with the remote. And somehow, at that moment, I grew even harder. All my attention went to my painfully pressing crotch, as my mother shifted onto her knees on the couch. She placed her hands on my thighs, and began squeezing and rubbing up and down.

"Do me a favor," she whispered, as she began to move her hands firmly up and down the insides of my thighs. "I want you to think of Tori. Close your eyes and imagine you're with her now."

I did as she asked. Tried to, at least. It was difficult not to pay intimate attention to her caresses. She began to press her hand against my erection, firmly massaging and rubbing through the jeans. I willed her to take it out, feeling nothing but the urgency of wanting to...well...feel her. Anywhere, any way. Feel her touch. I no longer cared that she was my mom, I no longer cared about Tori.

After some moments, she pressed her mouth against my hard-on, forcing hot breath through the fabric of my jeans, moving her mouth against my shaft. "Uunhh--", I started to groan unawares, then choked the sounds back in embarrassment.

"Mmm. That's ok, hon. Feel free to moan. Moaning is good." She renewed her breath against my cock. I felt somehow inhibited to talk, or even make noise. But my hips began to move up and down, striving maybe to climb their way out of my jeans.

"Honey, I'm going to take your pants off now, is that ok?"

GOD YES! I screamed in my mind, but all I could give voice to was a whispered, "yeah." She began to work at my belt, unsure how it unbuckled, but never stopping the attention against my penis. I moved my hands to help her, which she allowed, turning instead to stroking my forearms. Then with deed accomplished, she began to work her hands up under my shirt, lightly teasing and scratching my belly. Soon, though, I felt a tug at the waistline of my pants. I thrust myself up to allow her to slide both jeans and underwear, little by little, down toward my knees. As she began to tug them by the cuffs I became fully aware that my cock was now eagerly exposed to this woman, my mother, this woman who I hadn't wanted to be naked in front of since I was probably ten or eleven years old.

And by the ambient light of the TV I sensed that the same thoughts might be running through her head. My hard-on felt explosive, standing painfully straight-up. Though I couldn't make out her expression clearly, she seemed to be hesitating, waiting. Admiring my manhood with a pleased smile. Grabbing hold of my thighs and slightly digging her nails in, she finally spoke in a hushed voice. "You have a nice penis. Very nice. You should be pleased with yourself young man." She took hold of my cock with one hand, gently stroking up toward the top of the shaft. "Very pleased."

She drew her face closer. "Just lay back and close your eyes," she cooed. "This is all about pleasing you. Think of Tori...think of whoever you want to."

I tried vainly to do as she instructed. Then I felt the slow licking of her tongue up the shaft, teasing at the soft, sensitive spot below the base of the head. And the thoughts flew away. For several moments she worked her tongue around the countless parts of my penis that wouldn't set me off. But then like a firework she took me suddenly into her mouth, and I lit like a fuse, the sensual warmth of her lips and tongue engulfing me in more ways than one. All the painfully excited urges that had grown to such an unbearable peak in me were suddenly washed away like a pointless wet dream and I knew and felt and sensed that this real. Sex was real. And this must truly be the greatest feeling I'd ever known. She moved her head slowly up and down, her tongue working all her magic along the underside of my cock, only pausing every so often on the rise to gaze up at me with liquid eyes.

My breath was coming in panting gasps now, and sometimes as her head went down again around my penis I let a soft moan escape me. I was not going to last long, but didn't have anything in me that wanted this to stop. I watched mom's head bob up and down, knowing I shouldn't be doing this, but not caring. I mean, I loved her. She was familiar, yes...but also beautiful in her own right, and so desirable as a woman. And this was incredible. So why should I want anything else?

She began to sense my need and was soon moving her head up and down on my shaft with greater intensity. All my pent-up, frustrated urges for all I could remember anymore were suddenly coming to a head. Images I didn't want to see and hadn't thought about in years, pains I'd felt I'd left behind, shames long since pushed away...all threatened to ruin this moment of pure bliss from my mother's mouth. I struggled to push them back.

I couldn't think anymore, couldn't care anymore what was happening or what might happen or even what this meant. I only needed this, only this. This sublime acceptance. This undeniable sensation - throughout the whole of my being - of being cared for, being honored, of being worthy as a man.

I wanted - and willed myself - to make myself last in this moment forever, feeling in every fiber that there was nothing that could come tomorrow the next day or the next day after that, that would ever rival the feeling of who I was right now with this beautiful woman, with her lovingly beautiful mouth, worshipping so heartbreakingly humbly at the very altar of my manhood. And yes, I know that as I write this it sounds like artistic douche-baggery. But I was there. I was that altar. I was that god.

And she was my votaress. My adoring priestess. Humbling herself so gratefully, so selflessly, so self-sacrificingly. For no other reason than to help raise me up.

For no other reason than to help me find my power.

But as she toyed her tongue so skillfully about that magic spot below the head of my teen-age god-head, a feeling of desperate tightening deep in the base of the altar told me everything was about to change. It was already too late. The temple of our love was about to crumble. And with one last gripping of muscles within, one further, desperate hardening of my young man-cock, she knew it as well. Her eyes seemed almost pleading as she slowed her attentions, and clenched her mouth tenderly around me with loving acceptance. I began to throb against her tongue.

A deep, desperate moan broke from me loudly as I thrust my hips upward violently against her face. My hands wrapped tightly around her head in a desperate desire to enter her mouth as deeply as I could. Enter her temple of love. Locked in my angry, choking, orgasmic, ecstatic embrace I began pumping my need into her beautiful, timeless, gagging, rapturous mouth knowing it was wrong but knowing nothing more than that I needed to unleash the whole of my thrusting frustrated helpless needful rage-fueled sex-twisted shame-fueled urge into someone...someone...

...someone who would accept it...

...someone who would accept me...

...someone who would accept my need...

...into my mother's yielding, welcoming mouth. And she accepted it, with encouraging moans. Accepted my shameless spurting of my shameful seed without shame. Until slowly, gradually, my thrusts began to gratefully subside.

At first I became aware of my fists coiled in her hair, and the choking wetness that was dripping from her face around my belly, from her mouth, and her tears. Then I suddenly wanted to coil into a ball and fade away. From her and everything around me. Wanted to shrink away into some imagined twilight corner of the world and disappear. Closing my eyes tightly I released her hair and lay back against the arm-cushion of the couch, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

But even as these dark thoughts moved through me, as I felt my teenage world spinning wildly on a pin...I came back to myself. As I was now. Came back to my body feeling so unusually relaxed...so unusually cared for. And I looked down past myself, and I saw mom.

She was still holding me in her mouth, unmoving, and did so for a long time. She held me 'til my panting breaths returned to sighs again. She held my sex in her mouth and gazed at me admiringly. And then she slowly pulled her mouth from my cock. And swallowed.

After which, of course, I began to pull away.

♡♡♡

I lay there, flushed, chest still heaving, staring at the ceiling. Not daring to look down. In the wake of my exultant release, the dawning realization of what had happened took me over. Now absent the pure, sexual yearning, I'd lost hold of the mystery as well.

She was my mother once again. Just as always. Except now, she was kneeling before me with my cum in her mouth. Stroking my thighs for a few moments more, she gradually pulled away and retreat to the other end of the couch.

I wanted to disappear, to teleport somewhere else, to wake up and find this had merely been a wet dream. Anything but have to stare into my mother's face and confront what I had done. Was she still horny, as well? Expecting me to now return the favor? Inwardly my mind raced; outwardly I shut down, staring at the flickering of the TV light across the ceiling.

"That was nice...for me," she whispered. Then she gave an involuntary cough, clearing her throat for a moment. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as you seemed to."

I couldn't answer, from deep down in the cave of my withdrawal. The telling silence drew out.

Finally she reached down, searched around and handed me my underwear, then afterwards placing my jeans beside me, and took her seat again at the other end of the couch. I could tell she was upset. But grateful for the way out, I immediately started to put my underwear on.

She picked up the TV remote, looked at it, seemed to forget it, then ran her fingers absently over the buttons as she stared at the screen. Moments passed. Not knowing what else to do, I started tugging my pants on as well.

Finally she rose and said, "I'm gonna go fix myself a drink. Do you want anything?"

"No thanks," I croaked.

She stared at me for a moment longer than I wanted, then retreated to the kitchen and didn't return. I sat and watched TV for a long time. I have no idea what.

♡♡♡

In the darkness of my bed that evening, I was still going over what had happened earlier. I sensed that my mother was upset, but my young mind couldn't really fathom about why. Instead I was just trying to piece together what this now meant for me, about me.

And yet now, with even just a bare bit of distance from our sexual encounter that evening, I began to get turned-on again. Evidently my teenage hormones didn't need much time to digest and understand the personal magnitude of what had occurred: they'd finished with whatever they needed to do and were already dreaming about doing it again. I stared into the dark dimness of my room, slowly toying with my penis and replaying the events again and again from the beginning. I began to accept that there had been incredible pleasure there, right before the shame took over.

A light flicked on from under my bedroom door, and a bit of shadow moved behind it. Mom was up as well, no doubt haunted by my same doubts. She seemed to hesitate in the light from her bedroom. Instantly I felt bad for her, and thought about how she too must be suffering. Wondering if she'd made a huge mistake, if she'd screwed-up our relationship seriously, and for good. I sat up in bed, feeling the impulse to go to her, to let her know somehow that I wasn't mad at her. But that would mean talking about stuff, and I didn't feel up to that right now.

There was a light knock at my door, and I felt suddenly scared again to confront her. She opened it quietly, casting the dim light from her bedroom just down the hall into mine.

"I, um...", she looked about in the darkness somewhat theatrically, "...had a feeling you'd probably be up as well." She slowly entered, still in her long t-shirt. She made her way to my bedside, turned on my small desk-lamp and then moved to sit with a twinge of hesitation. I moved my legs below the sheet to give her room. There was a silence.

I felt compelled to speak first, to sooth her fears.

"Mom, umh." I cleared my throat. "I'm not...upset about what happened." I'd meant to say 'angry' but somehow that came out. Seriously? I'd been nothing but upset since about two seconds after watching my mother swallow my cum.

"Really? Are you sure?" Her relief came in such a torrent I couldn't contradict her.

"Really. Yeah. Really." I could see now what a strain she'd been under these last couple hours. She turned in to me, eyes pleading.

"Oh you have no idea how I've been beating myself up about what I did. I don't know what came over me, I really don't."

"Mom it's ok. It...I mean...it was weird, really weird, but—"

"Honey I promise you it won't happen again, you don't have to worry about it we'll— Look!" Her eyes seemed to grow big, even in the semi-darkness "Let's make a promise to each other that we'll forget this ever happened. We'll go on, starting right now, just forget this whole thing and go on with our regular old life the way it always is."

"Good. Yes. Yeah deal. I can do that."

She grabbed each of my hands in hers. "Honey I'm so sorry. Please don't feel like you did anything at all, had any part in this at all."

"No, Mom. It's ok." Her distress was getting to me, so I gripped her hands and caressed them slowly. We both stared down at them for a time, beginning hopefully to put our worries aside.

She scooched her way up onto my bed, one leg tucked under her and the other thrust out beside me.

My gaze meandered its way up to where I could just barely make out her panties. Something was stirring again. That yearning down below which hadn't been bothered in the slightest by what we'd done earlier.

"Just know it was my fault," she said once again. "You had nothing to do with it."

"Well," I tried a hint of a laugh, "I mean, you know.... Except that part where I let you go down on me."

She grimaced. "Honey I'm so sorry," she said simply, starting to pull away. I found myself holding and stroking her hands in mine, encouragingly...and occasionally trying to nudge the hem of her t-shirt just a bit higher up her thigh.

"No, I'm kidding, mom. I mean..." It's funny the things you'll say while you're prolonging a moment just to catch a glimpse of a woman's panties. "I mean...I liked it."

Now it was my mother's turn to sit there in silence.

"I mean. I really liked it. Thank you."

"Uh. Well..." Mom pulled one hand up and wiped at her nose, then returned it to mine. She gave a small laugh, "You did seem like you enjoyed it."

"That was my first time," I admitted. She smiled, and rubbed my hands tenderly in hers.

"Aw, hon. I just, you know...wanted you to know what it's really like. I see you...young man and all...turning sex into such a huge, big, desperate thing. Maybe because of internet stuff. But I think you end up just pushing girls away. I thought maybe that's what'd happened with Toni."

"Tori."

"Tori," she laughed. She moved her extended leg up to sit cross-legged. Her t-shirt rode up to expose her striped panties to my full view.

I continued to stoke her hands lovingly.

"Men are different, especially young boys. They get so driven by the desire to have an orgasm they either trip over their own feet, or they plow right into the girl they want to get it from." I tried to appear to be looking away, but kept bringing my eyes back to her panties, tiny stripes across them, slightly billowed by her pubic hair. "Women are much more into the whole experience of sex. Don't run us over, you can't do that. We want the full meal, from soup to nuts." She laughed, almost a snort, which made me laugh as well. "The orgasm is just, like...the dessert for us. I mean it's a...it's a really delicious, creamy dessert, but...even without it, the whole rest of the dinner also matters as well".

"So can I ask you a question, mom?"

"Of course, hon."

"Was what we did a turn on for you, as well?"

She stared down intently. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times. Finally she squeezed my hands tight.

"Yes. It was. Very much so."

I squeezed her hands back, then began to rub them again slowly.

"Well I'm...sorry you didn't get your dessert." I'd meant it as a kind of joke but neither of us laughed.

"That's ok, hon. I wasn't doing it for me." I realized her breathing had slowed.

"I know." I couldn't stop staring at her panties, my mind growing strangely calm. The moment seemed suddenly to slow down, or maybe open up wide. I felt as if I was floating ever so slightly above myself. I started to bring my eyes to meet hers, but they fell short and landed on her breasts. "But maybe you should."

With an effort I brought my eyes up to hers, but she was staring down at the valley of sheet between my legs. Finally she spoke.

"Are you saying you want to do that again?" I knew how I wanted to answer that, but I couldn't bring myself to do so.

"Um, I dunno. Yes. No. I dunno." My mind raced ahead of me. "Yes."

"Oh," was all she said. She was quiet for a long time.