Motherfriend

Finally she reached out a tentative hand, placing her palm on my penis under the sheet. I'd gotten semi-hard by now, and my muscles tensed down there involuntarily at her touch. She grasped it firmly, stroked it tenderly a few times, then withdrew.

"I'll be right back," she muttered. "I think I need a drink."

♡♡♡

My mother returned shortly with a tall glass of wine and what seemed to be the rest of the bottle in the other hand. The bottle she set down hard on the night-stand next to my bed, the glass she clung to tightly as she found a place on the bed next to me. I noticed a faint smell of pot about her as well, which made me long for some, but I knew better than to ask. She'd let me know with no discussion that there's a time for everything, and for pot that time was certainly after high school. Still, some boundaries had obviously been broken.

My mother glanced with a wry smile at the pup tent I'd made of the sheet. She reached her hand out and hesitantly grabbed my penis through the sheet, shaking it in a playful manner. Then she gulped down most of the wine in her glass.

"Can I have some of that?" I tested. She gave a look of stern surprise that was definitely the 'other' mother. But after a moment, handed the half-full bottle to me.

"We may as well both have wine breath."

As I took a big swig of wine, she started to play with my cock again, but not in a toying way this time. More interested now. And it came to fuller attention in her hand.

"You really do have a nice penis, you know. Nice looking, and thick. Not all of them are much to look at. But I like yours." She began to pull the sheet down, exposing my taught briefs, then moved her hand to cup my package, gently squeezing and massaging. I downed the rest of the bottle and returned it to the nightstand.

"Lie back," she said.

I pulled a pillow behind me so as to lean back against the headboard. She tucked her fingers beneath the waistband of my underwear, and drew them down toward my knees. My dick leaped up and reached for the ceiling. Leaning in, she offered several wet tongue-kisses to the underside. Then pausing, she helped me off with my briefs all the way. Parting my legs, she came to kneeling on the bed between them and practically dove down on my cock, taking it with an eagerness that surprised me. I watched her licking and sucking it - massaging it with her mouth - in an incredible show of sexual satisfaction. I couldn't imagine the brief pleasure I'd enjoyed earlier could ever have been topped, but this was different. She seemed unrestrained, hungry. My breathing turned quickly to pants, then just as quickly to moans. She made eye contact when she could, massaged my balls gently all the time. No longer did I feel the driving urgency to come that I had before. Instead I lay back and drank in this new experience, of a woman eagerly at work to offer me as much sexual pleasure as she could.

"Mmoohh god," I mumbled. She only hummed in response, never stopping the movement of her mouth over my penis. Some newly found self-assurance caused me to reach for the wine bottle, and I downed a couple large mouthfuls straight from it. I felt incredible, confident. And knew what I wanted to do.

I began to sit up, withdrawing my cock from her, then took her gently by the shoulders and pulled her up to kneeling. Hair tousled, mouth wet around the edges. I took the hem of her t-shirt and began to lift it up above her waist. She seemed hesitant to comply, but soon raised her arms to allow me to draw the garment completely off her. She had no bra on, which made the moment more erotic somehow.

I briefly thought of bringing my hands to her breasts, but quickly realized I didn't really know what to do with them. That sounds odd, but I mean, stroke them? pinch them? cup them? rub them? Hard, or will that hurt? Softly, or will that tickle?

I leaned forward and took one of her nipples in my mouth, licking in strokes, in circles. I'd like you to know that in this act, in my mind, there was no hint whatsoever of...how should I say it? Poetic resonance? No connection for me that I'd done this before, long ago in unremembered time. I can't help but think, though, that this thought must have occurred to mom. All I knew was that her boobs were beautiful and perfect, and they were practically made for me to take into my mouth. I played my tongue over them in sensual wonder, first one, then the other of course, feeling excited as they grew hard from the attention. Mom scratched her nails lightly up and down my back and sides, every so often sounding a sultry coo.

After a time I felt the urge to move things along. I rose to face her, but became wary of what that might lead to. So I quickly folded my arms around her, one behind her upper back and the other her waist, an instinctive move learned from leading her so many times in dance class. Slightly spinning her to the side in a kind of dip, I brought her down to where she lay before me on the bed. I crawled on top and returned my mouth to her nipples, this time running my hand along her body as I played with the hair along the back of her neck. I stroked down her side to the knee, circling in to caress my way back up the inside of her thigh. Perhaps sensing a need for patience, I stopped short of what I wanted, which was to shove my hand into her panties and explore. I simply rubbed up and down the thigh lightly, then squeezing firmly, first the one then the other. In switching thighs I'd brush my hand lightly across her vagina. A distinct change in her breathing was becoming noticeable, catching my attention completely. As I listened to this change in her desire, which I was creating, something in me felt a burst of confidence and power, a force that shot right down my stomach into my balls. I felt my cock spring forward and harden like a staff. I became more aggressive in my strokes upon her thighs, lingering longer, until at last I brought my hand firmly against her mound.

"Yeesss. Right there. Oh good," she urged. I massaged through her panties, wondering at the moisture there. Her one arm was somewhat trapped beneath me, but she worked her hand as best she could against my cock. With the other she began to guide my fingers in their pussy play, showing where and with what motion to stroke her, the best pressure and speed. She seemed unconcerned with the panties being in the way, which surprised me. Her breathing was coming quicker and shorter, and her trapped hand no longer explored but only clutched at my dick. I lifted my head from her breasts and found myself staring at her face, turned toward the dim light with eyes closed. Her eyebrows, her mouth and lips, seemed in constant movement, in expressions of yearning that struck me as uniquely, incredibly beautiful. I began to gain a sense for what movement of my fingers gave her better pleasure. For what seemed like minutes I thought of nothing but stroking her panties and watching her face

"It's time," she breathed, and became silent for a moment. Then suddenly a sharp gasp. "Now honey," she hushed, pulling almost uncomfortably on my hard-on and opening her eyes a little. "I want you in me. Please."

I began to awkwardly shuck off my briefs and then straddled her thigh in some ill-planned attempt to help her off with her panties. After rocking first to one side then the other, coaxing them down a bit at a time, I finally just scrambled off the foot of the bed so I could pull them off in one motion. I lifted her legs up toward my chest, and slid the unneeded garment free, tossing them aside.

My mother made the most simple yet most sensual movement I've ever experienced. Holding her legs and feet in the air before me for just a moment, she slowly opened them up, spreading wide before me. Then bending her knees she lowered her feet flat onto the bed and relaxed her knees outward to the sides. Everything about that fluid, exquisite, subtle movement spoke to my male instincts one simple message: 'I am Yours. Please Take Me.'

♡♡♡

I moved carefully onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. I was ready to fuck. I wanted to fuck. But as I'd never actually fucked before, I was not sure exactly how to fuck. This might seem a silly situation to you, dear reader, now, but put yourself in my position. I knew what needed to be done, simple as it is, of course. I needed to put my erect penis in her vagina. And I was totally down with that. What I didn't know is what was supposed to happen after it was in. What was expected of me once the fucking had begun. I'd seen my share of porn videos, and knew I couldn't expect to be anywhere near that level of fuckery. In fact I had no idea what level of fuckery I'd be able to achieve. I only knew that right now, at this moment, I was moving in on something I wanted very badly - wanted to succeed at very badly. But there was no escaping the realization that I was just some neighborhood kid going up for his first time at bat in T-ball.

That's life I suppose, we want everything right now and in the best possible way. But we fumble forward, whether we know the way or not, simply because we've chosen this path, for better or worse. This is what my mother seemed to be telling me earlier that evening. As such, despite my fear and ignorance, I crawled up over and on top of her on all fours, lowering my hips down carefully, making my best pretense at confidently hitting the mark.

I seemed to poke against her thigh, or something. I tried again gingerly, still not sure what I was probing up against or why I couldn't seem to find penetration. 'Use the Force, Luke. Use the Force.'

Despite her ardor, my mother was missing none of the wry humor in this. I believe she was purposely holding off, enjoying the whole charade, before finally reaching down and taking hold of my cock, stroking it up and down for a while against her lips, then guiding it in toward its goal. I smiled sheepishly, and put my weight forward slowly, but felt resistance. That seemed odd. What was I doing wrong? I pushed again, nothing yielded. What the hell? Was sex really this complicated?

"No it's good, you're at the opening," she confided, "just go slowly, in steps, to spread the wetness."

That seemed strange. Isn't sex about pumping your hips as forcefully into a woman as you can? But I trusted her, so I checked my forward urges for smaller, more minute movements. Gradually her lubrication began to come forward, and I understood what she was saying. Soon I was easily thrusting deeper and deeper by degrees, moving in rhythm to her urgings. She seemed to be enjoying this, vocally at least. So, absent any other instruction, I started to listen to her breathing to tell me how to proceed. I moved in and out of her at a slow rhythm, and then responding to her tempo began to quicken my thrusts. It really was exactly like dancing with a partner.

In truth, for those first few moments my whole mind was flooded with the single thought: I'm having sex! It's here. It's finally, finally happening. The burden of 'virginity' I'd weighed myself down with since I was about fifteen could now be thrown aside, and good riddance. My mother had been right about the desire for sex causing me to get in my own way. Sometimes I felt sexual desperation hung about me like a palpable aura, triggering women to think, consciously or not, "that guy's desperate because women don't want him, therefore I shouldn't want him either." So while I knew I could never tell any of my buddies, or anyone for that matter, about this evening, the realization that I was no longer a virgin -- and would never be so again -- washed over me with relief.

I became aware as well that this sensation felt very, very different than having her mouth around my cock. Oral sex was concentrated and very intense. But this sex, sex sex, was more a general, all-around feeling of pleasure, at least from my penis's perspective. Yet it felt much more emotionally intense, because as I moved in and out of her in long strokes I was also watching her, holding her, engaged with her in a way that oral sex didn't allow. A sexual connection with her was beginning to sweep through me.

Her eyes were closed for the most part, so I could drink her in with no inhibition. I watched the parting, pursing, biting of her lips, then the sudden look of surprise followed by intense concentration in her brows, a quick gasping of breath as she strove to look around the room, confusedly forgetting what she might have been looking for. A whole erotic story seemed to be going on behind her face. In time I'd realize she was uniquely expressive this way, more than most women I'd later be with, unfortunately. Watching her in her pleasure was exciting to no end. I moved my face next to hers, relishing the aroma of perspiration and shampoo. I wanted to massage her tits, her body, her soul, but the whole penis-thrusting movement-thing was still very new to me, so I kept both arms firmly braced against the bed.

I kissed and nibbled at her neck, her ears, bushing my cheek again and again against hers. The feeling of her naked body entwined around mine, the intoxicating smells coming off her, I wished somehow to go inside her more deeply, more completely. I nuzzled up her neck, across her cheek, then, thrusting forward as firmly as I was able, I pressed my lips against hers, tenderly, hungrily asking with tongue for acceptance. She opened eagerly, her hands quickly moving to grasp my head, guiding my mouth firmly against her own. What I'd intended as an impulsive exploration became, unexpectedly, a torrent of passionate wanting. And the grasping hunger I'd only suspected was living down lower in my sex engulfed me, lifting me up and into her further and further. The desperate probing that began between her thighs was now seeking as well in her tongue, her lips, her eyes. Kissing her carried none of the awkward strangeness I'd been expecting. I hungered to feel her tongue and lips with my own.

Wanting to remain forever deep within her, I thrust myself firmly inward, then simply rocked my hips in mutual rhythm. We looked on each other in cross-eyed fashion, lips and tongues pecking and exploring. I sought to wrap my arms around her and squeeze her into me, but the mattress prevented, so eventually I tried to roll to one side, urging her on top of me. On the twin bed this took some gymnastic skill, but I didn't mind, being in no hurry to get anywhere quickly. Our positions finally reversed, I grasped her tightly, moving my hands about her back and neck, up into her hair where I scratched her scalp lightly, never ceasing the forceful rocking of my hips.

Through unending kisses our breaths hushed strong and hot, quickening as she found a motion of her own that she liked. Little whimpers would emit, in rhythm to our stroking thrusts. Grinding intensely against me she lifted up suddenly, pausing yet saying nothing. Her eyes seemed far away, hair hung about her face and clinging to the sweet sweat of her forehead. Instinctively I stopped my own movements and simply steadied my hips as firmly as I could. She began to stroke and ride me in quickening tempo, gyrating now in slippery sexy circles. Though there was less sensual sensation against my penis, a surging insistence grew in my sex. I knew I'd erupt before much longer. I wanted and tried to savor, to drink in, to paint for myself a brief mental portrait of this moment now, where everything was proceeding toward its desired goal with no further need or want or effort on my own part.

Mom began to Uuhh. Over and over. Hastening, forcefully in tone, shifting by degrees from statement to question. "Uuhh uuhh uuhh uuhh...uuhh? uuhh?? Uuuhh???" in rhythmic grinding to the movement of her hips. She'd separated from me, gone far away somehow. This excited me to no end and helped me out as well in managing just a few more thrusts up in her before the insistence became an overwhelming need, and the need became an electric, mind-numbing reality as I began to come.

And I came.

I finally, forcefully exploded up into a woman wonderful woman who accepting me accepting my promise accepting my moment of coming which came in a stinging, gushing, rushing emergence from the seat of my being my coming ejaculation as I grasped and clung and pulled and urged this woman toward the feeling of my thickening thrusting stroking sliding slippery presses which were circling, riding, circling, riding, riding in rhythm-rubbed responses to my own my own and hers my moan my mom my mom we groaned "oohh oohhh ooohhh ooohhh! Ooohh Ooohh huh huuuh Ooohhh Unnnnhhh ohyesyesyes OOHGODUUUHHYEEEESSSsS fuck fuck YESSOOOHHOOHHH hoohoohyesoohyesohohohoooohhhooohh, ooh, ooohwaitstopdontmoveooohh, oooohh...yes right there ooh hold right there hold right oh yes yes yes that so ooh yes oooh, oooh. oooohhh. oooh. oooow. ooh. ooow. ooow. ooh. oooh. oohoh. ooh. ooh."

Then a deep, long inhale.

"Oooooowwwhhhh."

♡♡♡

My bladder stabbed against my sleep. Glaring slivers of sun peeped round the window-shades. A gnawing numbness throbbed throughout my side, pressed tight, unturning as I'd been so long against the wall of my bedroom. My sleep was shoddy, crowded as I was into the corner of a bed already way too small for one.

Yet I felt glorious. For all was right with the world. I carefully edged down off the bottom of the bed and sneaked off to the bathroom. It felt strange to walk about the house fully nude in the morning light, it wasn't something I did even at night when I'd at least have underwear on. Somehow it felt good to do this now. I felt a strange sense of pride in exposing myself openly, although alone.

Returning to my room, I tip-toed back to the foot of the bed, anxious to squeeze back in and glean whatever more time I could beside my naked lover. Then I halted, one knee up on the mattress.

My mother lay on her side, toward the outside of the bed. One leg was drawn up over a pillow like a lover, a dark tuft clearly exposed between and below her buttocks. It was the image mirrored from before, that moment of unexpected sexual wonder caught in time...and in my mind. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked long at her. I might say hard at her as well, since that was also happening.

I leaned forward, close enough that her vagina filled my vision. I breathed in, intrigued by the faint musky scent I'd only noticed in passing last night. I liked the soft, slightly gleamy look of her pubic hair, and marveled why so many girls today shave such sensual silken fur. I brought my face closer, and began to kiss the back of her thighs, then up to the slight and sexy muffin-top curve at the base of her ass. She murmured, reaching down to stroke my hair. I increased my affections, nibbling and working my way around her buttock then down the side of her thigh toward her knee. I knew now what I wanted. I wanted her to open herself completely to me. I yearned to taste and smell, to lick and to kiss with passion once and for all the wonder of womanhood. I began to move her knee upward. And for a moment she cooed and yielded, allowing me to turn my oral attention to the inside of her thigh.

But then she sat up suddenly, pulling herself up in bed, away from my caresses. I must have done something wrong. Had I pushed against some boundary that would not be allowed? Some inviolable rule we yet must honor, a taboo too—well, too taboo for us yet to trespass? Mom held my questioning look for a moment, with a decidedly 'mom-like' stare.

Then she muttered, in a hoarse, unsure tone, "I'm not feeling very fresh right now honey. I need to go shower." And gathering a sheet about her she stepped uncertainly out of the room.

I lay on my back, worrying over what just happened. My hard-on took events in stride, like a puppy whose dish is taken away - confused but nonetheless optimistic of a hasty return. My mind was not so sure.