My Mistress Mother

Most people have wonderful childhood memories of their mother. I did not. Growing up, I remember how my mother was a relentless harpy whose sole purpose was to torment my life and that of my father. She barely had any time for me, except to criticize any aspect of my life. The same went for my father. I saw little appreciation for his efforts to please her. Slaving away at a middle-management job, my dad could never satisfy Mother's financial demands, the extent of which ranged from clothes, jewelry, and even an apartment in Manhattan which he could little afford. No matter what he provided, his efforts were never enough. Memories of my dad were of his desperate attempts to hold back the financial flood my mother had created.

In a way, I understand why Dad did it. Mother was quite attractive. Pretty and charming, Mother's looks far overshadowed Dad's less attractive features. She was a petite 5'2" brunette with piercing blue eyes and a body that matched. Anytime that Mother was out, men noticed, especially when she wore her expensive tailored dresses that snuggly fit every curve. I can still remember how her c-cup breasts would fill any blouse, and her shapely legs perfectly accented her teardrop-shaped ass.

Nevertheless, Mother's financial demands on Dad took their toll. I saw him slowly fade away until he had a heart attack at the age of forty-five. Just before he passed away, he made me promise to take care of Mother, a promise to which I reluctantly agreed. Unlike my father, my love for her was barely over the level of "yes, she is my mother. So what?"

After college, I joined a financial firm which eventually led to a lucrative position with a hedge fund. My paychecks were significant, but the hours were brutal. I found myself working six to seven days a week, often as much as 12-14 hours per day. The long hours left little for a social life even as it provided more than enough for a New York apartment as well as an eventual summer home on Long Island. I dated seldom, finding only enough time in the week for work.

But the money was good, so good that I was able to provide Mother with an apartment in the Upper East Side of Manhattan and a $2,000 per week allowance. Most people would have been grateful and lived within their means but not my mother. She continually complained about how little money she had and that I needed to provide more. After a while, I had become a surrogate husband and replacement for my dad for her demands and berating. Nevertheless, I continued to help her as much as I could without any hint of appreciation from her. I had been yoked like a beast of burden to Mother, whether I liked it or not. That is until one December.

I was sitting in my office looking forward to a bit of time off during the holidays when my secretary rang my phone. "There is someone with Tiffany's who needs to talk with you," she announced. I picked up the phone to find a manager looking for my approval for Mother to purchase a $25,000 necklace. She had assured him that I would stand behind her purchase since her credit card had been declined. I refused.

Within minutes, Mother was phoning me. "Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?!," she spewed. She then continued to scold me by telling me how little I provided for her. I allowed her to continue ranting until I finally told her I would meet her at her apartment after work. I hung up the phone before she had a chance to resume her tirade.

Around 6 p.m., I knocked on her door. After letting me inside, Mother stomped to the couch and plopped down. She was wearing a steel gray dress with matching heels. As in her usual style, the dress fit her precisely. Even if she was my mother, I could not help but notice that her ass was as shapely as any 25-year-old. She was prepared to continue her barrage when I cut her off.

Launching my own counteroffensive, I said, "You must be the most ungrateful bitch of a mother that has ever walked this earth. I am providing you with a generous allowance on top of an apartment. How can you be this unhappy or ungrateful?"

We went back and forth about her finances and her demand that she needed more money to fit her lifestyle.

"Young man, I gave birth to you. You owe this to me. You are making hundreds of thousands of dollars per year, and all you provide to your only Mother is a measly $2,000 per week?"

"No, Mother," I responded, "I have given you all am going to give you. Since you think this is too little, perhaps you should try earning your own money. As of right now, I am cutting you off. You want more, then earn it just like I have."

Instantly, her face flushed bright red. "You know I cannot. Your father left me with almost no money and now you are cutting me off? What do you propose that I do? Be a secretary? You know that I cannot make that kind of money!" She practically screamed those last words.

"Then," I suggested with a smirk, "you can be a high-priced call girl. I am sure you have all the skills that the job requires. After all, I could have had a full-time mistress for the amount that I am paying you."

Placing her hands on her hips, she said, "Fine. I will be a call girl. Is that what you want your mother to be? How are you going to explain that young man?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I do not have to explain anything. That is a choice that you must make."

Mother tilted her head and pursed her lips together. "Very well, then that's what I will do. Just consider me open for business. I'll start with blowjobs for $200. Well, how about it? What if I sucked my own son's dick for $200? I might as well since he no longer cares about what happens to me."

I had heard various versions of this melodramatic play before, so I was not persuaded. "It makes no difference to me. Go right ahead." I walked over to the couch, reached into my wallet, and threw down two 100-dollar bills into her lap.

For the first time in my life, Mother was at a loss for words. For several moments she just looked at me. I had called her bluff, and she did not know how to respond. I decided to push back even further.

"Apparently, you need some assistance. Here let me help you." Reaching down, I unzipped my fly and pulled out my cock. As I did, Mother's eyes widened. I could tell she was not expecting me to go this far. She just sat there with her mouth open in astonishment.

"Mother, do I need to explain the process to you? I paid my money. Get on with it," I demanded. I did not expect Mother to do anything, but I wanted to prove my point.

Mother looked up into my face and then back down to my cock. I could tell her eyes were welling up with tears, most likely from anger that I had not caved in. For several moments, I just stood there with my cock dangling just in front of her.

"Fine," was all she said before she unexpectedly reached up and took my cock in her hand. Slowly stroking it, she scooted forward to the edge of the couch and then down to her knees in front of me. She hesitated for a moment, then placed her mouth on my cock.

I had not anticipated that Mother would go this far, but her pride had been wounded. She was willing to go to any lengths to prove how bad a son I was. In any event, I watched as Mother slowly began to swallow the length of my shaft. Whatever anger that I possessed at this moment began to wilt away as she increasingly consumed more of my cock.

From the start, I found Mother's talent for sucking cock amazing. With her lips forming a perfect seal, she slowly moved up and down my shaft. At first, she had only half of the length in her mouth, but soon she was sliding her lips up and down the entire shaft. I could feel the tip of my cock as it slid along the roof of her mouth and into the back of her throat.

Instinctively, I placed both hands behind Mother's head and guided her as her head bobbed up and down my shaft. I could feel my orgasm building until I could hold back no longer. Suddenly, my cock shot a hot stream of cum into my mother's waiting mouth. As I pulled her head forward, I shot one glob of semen after the other. Unexpectedly, she made no attempt to pull back but instead pressed her face forward so that my cum was shooting into her throat.

As my orgasm subsided, I released her head and pulled my cock from her mouth. Dragging it over her lower lip, I watched as Mother used her tongue to lick the last of my cum from the tip. Pushing herself up, she sat down on the couch. While we were looking into each other's eyes, Mother made sure that I saw that she swallowed my cum. Although a little weak in the knees after that experience, I managed to stuff my cock back into my pants and pull my zipper back up.

"Most customers would tip after good service," Mother said. I nodded and pulled another Benjamin from my wallet and gave it to her.

With a look of resignation, she continued, "Now, can we go back to where we were before? I do not think that you want your mother working the streets."

"No, I guess not. But there must be some stipulations." I responded.

"Like?" Mother inquired.

"First," I replied, "you are going to stay within a budget. And second, while I will pay for this apartment and give you $2,000 per week, I will not be giving you any extra. You are going to earn anything else that I give you."

Crossing her arms, she narrowed her gaze and scowled in a very measured tone, "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Whenever I want, you are going to service me. Understood?"

Mother opened her mouth to begin the argument anew. I quickly rushed in to quell her rebellion. "This is not a negotiation. You have no appreciable skills other than sexual. I cannot afford you and a mistress, so you are going to have to fill both roles."

With anger flashing in her eyes, Mother initially huffed, looked to one side, and quietly said, "Fine. Now, will I be paid extra for what you are asking me to do?"

Looking over her shoulder for a moment as I thought about my answer. "Sure, if you do a decent job, I will tip you additional money. I will decide how much, but it will depend on the level of services that you provide."

Mother nodded. I turned, walked to the door, and made my way back home.

Three days later, I was in my office wrapping up my day when Mother phoned. "I need more money," was her terse opening. Her meaning was clear, and so were my instructions to her. "I will be there in an hour. Dress appropriately." I hung up the phone, completed what I was doing, and left for her apartment.

As I knocked, I was wondering if Mother understood "dress appropriately." She did not since she answered the door wearing one of her usual tailor-made dresses and high heels. I brushed past her and walked to the Queen Anne chair opposite the couch. As I was sitting down, I could see Mother close on my heels.

"I don't have all day," she snarled. "Let's get this over with. Stand up and unzip your pants," she demanded.

"Oh no, Mother. You misunderstand. What happened the other day was just the beginning. I have something else in mind."

Mother stood there with her arms folded across her breasts with a quizzical look on her face. "Then what do you want from me?" she asked.

Looking her in the eyes, I pushed forward with my plan. "Well, first, I need you to take off your clothes." Mother's eyes widened and started to argue before I cut her off. "Do you want this money or not?"

At first, she placed her hands on her hips and just stood there. Then with a huff, she pursed her lips together into a frown before she kicked her high heels off and began to strip. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall to the floor. There before me stood Mother dressed in a white lace bra and matching panties, which were covered by tan pantyhose. Her bra barely contained her breasts as they slightly spilled over the top. Once again, she crossed her arms and stood defiantly in front of me.

"Are you expecting me to strip entirely in front of you?" she inquired in a perturbed voice. I simply nodded without expression. Angrily, she said, "You are such a pervert, wanting to see your mother naked." Maybe hoping that I would change my mind, she just stood there with her arms folded. For several seconds, we just stared at one another before she again reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Dropping her arms to her side, she allowed her bra to fall to the floor. Nicely shaped, I could see her brown areolas surrounding her erect nipples. Although slightly sagging from age, her breasts nevertheless retained their youthful shape.

Mother then stooped as she pushed both her pantyhose and panties to the floor, her long brown hair sweeping the floor as she reached her ankles. As she stood erect, I could see that her pussy was covered with dark brown pubic hair. She had trimmed her pubic hair in such a way that the folds of her pussy lips were clear for me to see. The plump lips of her pussy were well-defined, with a slight hint of her clit poking out at the top.

With her hands on her hips, I took in every inch of Mother as she stood in front of me. Her proportioned body contoured inward before expanding at her hips. Although she was now 42, Mother's shape could have rivaled any 20-year-old that I knew. Even her slender legs showed no sign of her age. I knew exactly what I wanted to do next.

Standing up, I walked to Mother, took her hand, and pulled her to her bedroom. As I practically dragged her along, Mother continued to protest. "I do not know what you have in mind, but I am not about to fuck my son. You can just get that out of your mind. A blow job is one thing, but I am not about to fuck you." She was completing the last sentence as I spun her around at the side of her bed and pushed her on her back.

Her objections continued. "Ricky, you must stop this right now. I will suck your cock, but I am not about to allow you to fuck me."

"Then there is no money for you," I responded as I simultaneously shrugged my shoulders. I reached into my wallet, pulled three $100 bills out, and waived them in front of her.

I could see the frustration in Mother's eyes as I held the money in front of her. I knew she wanted this money more than anything. All I had to do was dig my heels in and be patient. Watching her eyes dart back and forth between my face and the money, I knew that I had the upper hand. I did not have to wait long.

With an exaggerated sigh, Mother snatched the money from my hand. "Fine, go ahead and fuck your mother. I always knew you were a perverted child. If you want a whore, then fuck me." I acted as if I heard nothing as I unbuckled my pants and let them fall to the floor. With a quick motion, I pushed my underwear down, freeing my now hard cock which pointed directly at Mother's spread pussy. Moments later, I had removed my shirt and was naked as well.

Lifting her legs over my shoulders, I pushed her legs down toward her own shoulders. Glancing down, I could see her pussy spread wide. I pressed my cock to the opening of her pussy as I leaned forward.

She was not giving up without continuing her verbal assault. "I cannot believe that I raised such a demented child that would take advantage of his mother. You should be ashamed of yourself." As she spoke, Mother attempted to push against my chest, but I was able to grab both of her arms with my hands. I pushed them back to the bed just as the tip of my cock touched the entrance of her pussy. "Ricky, I have changed my mind. Stop this right now. Do not do this." Nevertheless, I continued to push forward as my cock began to enter her. Her anger turned to pleas. "Ricky, you should not do this. I do not want to fuck you for money. Don't make me fuck you."

Regardless of her pleas, I pushed further and further into her waiting pussy. Whatever she was hoping for with her pleas was not working. Gradually, I worked my cock into her unwilling pussy. Soon, I had enough inside Mother to be able to slide it back and forth. For a woman in her forties, her pussy was incredibly tight, and the sensation was amazing.

As I leaned over her, she turned her head away from me to one side and closed her eyes. Her tirade, however, was not over. "Ricky, you disgust me. First, you try to make me a whore and now you are forcing yourself on me." Irrespective of her words, she was beginning to work her hips in rhythm with my thrusts. Then, I heard her say "Ricky, you're inside me. This is so wrong. You need to stop right now." Pressed against her naked breasts and with my cock halfway inside her, the urge began to strengthen inside. I felt my orgasm rising, and I wanted to bury the rest of my cock inside her. Slowly, I continued the invasion of her pussy, working my cock back and forth until I had the entire length inside my own Mother's pussy.

Whatever was happening between us, she was responding with her building orgasm. In and out, I worked my cock into Mother as she started to verbalize her desires. "Ricky, we should not do this. You are my son. This is so wrong. Oooh, Ricky, please don't stop. Please fuck me harder. That's it, baby. Cum in Mommie." Those last words were all the signals that my brain needed. With one final thrust, I ground my cock into Mother as deep as I could while my semen gushed into her waiting pussy. By now, she had wrapped her arms around my shoulders, smashing my bare chest against her naked breasts. Our bodies stiff with our mutual orgasms, we squeezed one another while we descended from the top of the mountain.

As I lay there on top of my mother, my previous feelings of resentment had softened, perhaps from the guilt that I had made her my prostitute or the emotional connection that anyone feels after an erotic experience. In any event, I pushed myself up and looked down on her. Here she was lying naked on her bed, her legs spread and my cum running out of her violated pussy. I wanted to stand there for the rest of the night lusting over my mother as she lay naked before me. However, Mother had other ideas.

"Pay me," she said softly but sternly. "Blow jobs are $200, but straight sex is $500. Hand it over." She reached up with her hand as she looked at my face. Reaching down for my pants, I pulled them up, buckled my pants, and pulled my wallet from my hip. Grabbing three more $100 bills, I tossed them on her nightstand.

"See," I began, "this can work for both of us. You get what you want, and I get what I need. See you again soon." I walked to her front door and left for the evening.

After about a week, I made an unannounced visit to Mother's apartment. As she opened the door, she looked quizzically at me at first, but then her face changed to one of disgust.

In a tone of revulsion, she opened with "What do you want?"

"I think you know Mother," I said as I brushed past her and headed to the couch. I heard her close the door in a manner close to a slam. I settled into the couch as I watched her stomping her way behind me. As she stopped just in front of the couch, I said "I thought you might need more money. After all, it's been an entire week."

With one hand on her hips, she pointed her finger directly at my face and angrily responded. "Just because I allowed you to fuck me once does not mean that you have an open invitation to come into my apartment and demand to fuck me again. I am your mother, not a concubine."

Without emotion, I said, "No, Mother, you misunderstand. This is a two-way street. Whether you need money or not, you are going to fuck me. Is that clear?" I allowed my words to soak into her before I continued. "Now, take off your clothes."

Mother continued her protest. "You can just forget about fucking me. Now, I need you to leave!"

I knew I had to retain the upper hand. I pulled out $700 in hundreds, which I waived in front of her. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing them from my hand.

Standing up, I took a half-step to grab Mother's left arm and spun her around to face the couch. Without any pause, I reached down and raised the hem of her skirt above her waist. Bending her over at the waist, I yanked her pantyhose and panties down below her knees with one motion.