My Mother's Bed

I can't believe I just had sex in my mother's bed. Kevin is beside me, sleeping. He always sleeps after sex. The sheets are a mess and I'll have to wash them before my mother gets back. I have a few days, but have an irrational fear of her returning before planned.

Across from me, on the wall, is a portrait of my mother that she had taken during her "wild" phase a few years ago. This phase entailed having her picture taken at a glamour studio and going on vacation without me and my sister for the first time. We heard constantly about her new independence.

"I've done everything for you girls all my life and nothing for myself. I'm going to Las Vegas with Shirley for a few days. You can stay with your dad."

"Thank god," said my sister under her breath. For my sister, family vacations were an interruption of her social life. The hyperactive social life my mother tried to curb since adolescence, to no avail.

I agreed with my sister. Our mother's independence, to us, was long overdue and inadvertently provided our own long sought-after freedom. That occurred when I was 15. A couple years later, my mother's "wild" stage ended and she joined a church, a church that had a schedule of activities so robust that one had precious little time to sin. Then again, I'm not sure my mother would know how to sin even if she did have the time.

"Wednesday is potluck, are you two coming?" my mother asked, pulling the calendar from the refrigerator and taking the felt tip pin off the velcro holder.

"We just went to game night yesterday," my sister complained.

"And tomorrow we have Bible study," I added.

"An idle mind is the devil's playground," was my mother's retort. "Meet me here at 6:30. I'm going to go to the gym then stop at the store."

I stopped going to church last year. I don't need a bunch of repressed, old-fashioned people telling me what to do. I don't think sex is a sin. Kevin and I love each other and we express this love physically. He's not using me, like my mother thinks.

"You should wait until marriage. If he respected you, he'd wait," she told me with that mother duck look she gets when she doesn't approve of something.

"No one waits until marriage," I replied. "That's old-fashioned."

"I waited."

"No one waits anymore."

"Lots of people wait," she replied slowly, as though I were mentally retarded and she had to explain a lofty concept. "Today television and movies make you think it's okay to have sex. Sex should be with one person only."

"I'm an adult. You treat me like a kid."

"You're only 19. There's a lot you don't know yet."

She's wrong, I know a lot more about sex than she does. Kevin and I have been having sex for over a year now. I've probably had more sex with Kevin than my mom had in her entire marriage to my dad. I think it would do my mother good to have regular sexual release. Orgasm is part of emotional and mental health, if you ask me. My mother needs an orgasm, that's for sure. And she has the opportunity. There's a man from the church that has been taking her out for months now.

"Why don't you sleep with him?" I asked one day, hoping for an adult-to-adult conversation.

"It can wait until we get married, if we ever do. I don't think it's your position to ask me that."

"You should relax a little."

"Sinning isn't relaxing."

The portrait of my mother on the wall was taken when glamour shots were still popular. Actually, I don't think they were popular anymore; my mother has always been behind the times. In the photo, my mother is wearing a red sequined gown and is lounging on pillows. I wonder why she leaves this photo on the wall, now that she's religious. Isn't it a sin? I asked her once.

"It's not a sin, it's just a picture," she replied tersely, her disapproving stare at its strongest. I felt too stupid to pursue the subject.

Kevin has started snoring beside me. I was reluctant to have sex here. Kevin talked me into it. He has the ability to talk me into things I don't want to do. He and my mother do not get along – oil and water for sure. He's always saying that my mother is so full of pronouncing "shoulds" in life, that she can't get enough air to breathe.

In her defense, it's not wrong to have religion. I just think it's doesn't have to be so extreme. Sex is beautiful. My mother was a teenager after the so-called "sexual revolution." I don't know why she wasn't affected by it. What happened to the women who wrote "Our Bodies, Ourselves?" What happened to the women who shed their bras and demanded sexual rights? Did they disintegrate into thin air? What did they teach to their daughters? Or maybe they never got married and have no daughters to pass their teachings onto. There's a missing link that I've never understood. I don't know why people are so repressed again.

My mother is on a retreat with women from her church. I don't know why they call it a retreat when all they do is share a cabin and talk. In her absence, I invited Kevin over for dinner and a to watch a DVD and whatever happens after that. My mother would be furious if she knew Kevin was spending the night. She knows we're having sex, but any outward demonstration of it solicits a disapproving stare and cold silence the next morning.

My sister also lives at home, too. She's spending an inebriated night with her gang. I asked her to spend the night elsewhere. She readily complied, also taking the opportunity to do what she normally does without the parental judgment.

When Kevin arrived, I was stirring the spaghetti sauce.

"What's for dessert?" he asked immediately.

"Shouldn't we have dinner first?"

"Who says? Your mom's not here. We can have dessert first."

"If you eat your dinner," I teased, "mommy will let you have a big, big dessert."

Echoes of my mother, I suppose. One should eat dinner first. Kevin has broken me of some of my mother's habits. This evening he broke me of even more.

"I want dessert," Kevin purred in my ear as I stirred. He began fondling my breasts through the blue silk of my favorite, most seductive dress.

My nipples hardened and I had second thoughts about the "dinner first" rule. He then started kissing my neck. My pussy felt very hot. I dropped the spoon. Dessert would be first this evening. Kevin continued kissing my neck and fondling my breasts while the steam of dinner fogged my face.

"Do you want dinner?" Kevin whispered.

"No, not really," I moaned.

Kevin continued fondling one breast while he moved the other hand under my dress. His hand found my silk underwear and he rubbed my pussy through the material. I was wet with excitement.

Kevin's strong, bony hands teased my swollen, aroused clit through the silk. I put my hand behind me to check on the state of Kevin's arousal. For my convenience, Kevin had unzipped as he walked up behind me. His penis was accessible, very hard and slightly wet at the tip. Pre-cum. It turned me on when he got wet.

It was Kevin's habit to tease me until I asked for what I wanted. At first, I was embarrassed by having to ask. Later I learned to enjoy the climaxing excitement and not to rush my pleasures.

"Put your finger inside me," I moaned.

Kevin complied and I felt the rush of blood as his finger found its way inside my panties and into my waiting vagina. He fondled and fucked me with his able fingers. I was well on my way to my first orgasm of what promised to be a long, sex-filled evening. I might get hungry, but I would be loved.

"Are you going to cum all over my fingers?" he asked playfully.

"I plan to," I replied.

He poked and prodded my wet vagina. I writhed against the stove, trying not to burn myself against the electric coil. Kevin's penis was against my back. Pushing me against the stove for balance, he used his free hand to put his penis in my ass. Not all the way, just enough to tell me what he wanted.

I was climaxing from his fingers and confused about his penis. I wasn't sure I wanted to try anal sex. Kevin had suggested it before, but I'd avoided answering him that I'd ever do it.

Kevin pushed against me more and inserted another finger into my vagina. I felt my legs quiver and I lost balance. Kevin held me up as he ravaged my vagina. I felt him push his penis deeper into my crack. I let it happen.

"How does that feel?" Kevin asked.

I didn't respond as I was pre-occupied with my on-coming orgasm. My breathing increased and my legs quivered more. I pushed Kevin's hand deeper inside of me. As I did, he thrust his penis into my anus. It hurt. I wasn't sure I liked it but I didn't want to be prude.

He stopped for a moment then began thrusting slowly inside of me. I was distracted by the pain, but also stimulated by his fingers. It was an odd sensation – extreme pleasure and unusual pain. I came suddenly, feeling like my vagina was a spring that had let loose.

Kevin came right after me, dripping wet semen into the crack of my ass as he removed his penis from my anus. He came very quickly. Anal sex certainly turned him on. I made a mental note to ask if this was his first time. Now that I let him do it, I wasn't sure I would allow him again.

After he removed his penis, we lost our balance and fell backward, into the table. We disrupted the plates and glasses I had set before Kevin arrived. One of the glasses fell onto the floor and broke.

"Shit, my mother will kill me," I said. "These are her favorite glasses."

"She won't notice one missing," Kevin said. "Let's go upstairs and lie down."

I was worried about the glass. I looked for the broom.

"Forget that now," Kevin said pulling me toward him. "I'll clean it up later. Let's go upstairs."

He gave me a long, deep kiss. I loved his kisses. Tender and moist.

I turned off the stove and led him upstairs to my room. He pulled back as we got to the door.

"Let's go in your mom's room," he said.

"I can't," I replied. "It would be too creepy."

Kevin tugged at my arm. I tugged back, trying to get him in the direction of my room. "Come on," he insisted. "It'll be fun. Her bed hasn't seen sex for years. It needs some practice."

Although he was right, I came to my mother's defense. She is my mother, after all.

"She's just going through a phase. It'll pass."

"It's funny how she stopped believing in sex when we started having it," Kevin said while biting on my ear.

My mind started to obsess on this notion. Kevin must have noticed for he returned to my body quickly. His comment was nagging at my mind, but my body was not connected to this.

In the hallway, outside of my room, Kevin removed my dress. Blue silk heaped around my feet, Kevin knelt in front of me to remove my underwear. He gave me tender kisses on my vagina. Teasing, fraternal pecks where friends don't kiss. He kissed for hours, it felt, until he applied his tongue to my wet vagina and erect clit. My clit throbbed beneath his tender, wet care although it was still swollen and tender. It hurt when he licked hard. My ass still hurt too. Kevin stopped and looked up at me.

"Let's go to your mom's room."

This time, I followed obediently.

As we walked into my mother's bedroom, I realized that since she had left for her retreat, I hadn't entered the room even once. Since childhood, my sister and I were taught the "rules" whereupon we would enter our mother's room only in an emergency. We were not to enter to borrow her jewelry or a tissue. The boundary to her room could only be crossed with her permission and that permission was rare. While I had my share of tearful confessions in her bedroom, those, too, occurred only when she saw my tears and invited me in. One did not run into mother's room and jump on the bed into her arms. She just wasn't like that.

Kevin laid me down on the canopy bed and I was surrounded by unstained white and pale lavender in the bedspread and canopy. The bed was firm, but comfortable. Kevin spread my legs and fed on my throbbing pussy as the portrait of my mother watched over me. I pulled Kevin's face deeper into my pussy. His tongue darted inside my vagina, around the walls and over my still-swollen clit. The pain of my first orgasm was subsiding. My clit tingled again with that electric feeling until I had a metallic taste in my mouth. My inner ears heard the ghost of my living mother.

"It's just not right. It's wrong!"

I came with Kevin's tongue inside me. I lifted my pelvis into his loving mouth. I came on my mother's bed, in my mother's room, in my mother's house. Saliva and cum were on my mother's clean and pristine bedspread and sheets. I began to worry the stains wouldn't come out in the wash.

Kevin tore me from my worries by jumping on the bed and dancing over me, his hips wagging and his erect penis moving around my face. He dropped to his knees and sat lightly on my chest as he inserted his penis into my mouth. Hot with orgasm, I licked and sucked until I could taste hot, sticky fluid in my mouth.

Kevin fell on the bed next to me. We lay next to each other staring at the ceiling. I loved having the house to myself. We were starved for sex, not having made love since last weekend. We had no barriers, no mothers, no roommates, no sisters. We could have sex anywhere, anytime we wanted. This was freedom.

"We need music," Kevin said after his short post-orgasm rest. He jumped from the bed and went to the small stereo on the dresser. Looking through my mother's CDs, he snorted with derision. "Just Christian shit. Where are your CDs?"

He went to my room and retrieved some hip and throbbing music to match our excitement.

In my mother's room, listening to her CD player, a wave of guilt arose. Would she be able to tell I had used her CD player? How could she? I would wash the sheets tonight – we would sleep in my bed while the washer and dryer removed all traces of my and Kevin's juices.

"What are you thinking about?" Kevin was always keenly aware of my thoughts.

"Maybe we should change rooms," I suggested seductively to lead him away from my true, worrying thoughts.

"I like it here," he announced, walking to the bed. "It's such a nice room, so clean." He sat next to me and started opening the drawers on her nightstand.

I panicked. You didn't rummage through mother's drawers.

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking for fun stuff."

"Let's go somewhere else. It's boring in here."

Kevin ignored me and began to announce his finds, like an auctioneer. "Bible. Who would have thought? Rosary, of course. We must, we should do something useful before bed. Can't have those nasty thoughts."

Kevin's sarcasm was bothering me, but I knew if I said anything it would get worse.

He continued. "Nightcream. Tissues. Nothing interesting here." He moved to the bottom drawer. The inventory was much greater here.

"Another Bible, jeez, how many Bibles do you need? What's this?"

Kevin pulled out a small notebook. "A diary," he said with glee. "Let's see your mom's innermost thoughts."

He read, "Clean oven. Go to hardware store and pick out floor tile. Call Robin." He threw the notebook back into the drawer. Hopefully his disappointment would end his search. I tried to lure him back into my loving, and rejuvenated, body.

"What does she keep in all those dresser drawers?" he said rhetorically, rising. It wasn't over yet.

I lay back in the soft, cotton sheets and decided to ignore my curious boyfriend. I don't know why he is so upset about my mother and her religion. I don't like it either but it's like he's obsessed by it. Like he's got to challenge her. I don't agree with her either, but I know better than to challenge my mother.

As Kevin searched my mother's private belongings, I luxuriated in the clean, soft smell. I was responsible for my own laundry and my sheets never felt this clean. Since I turned 18 my mother refused to buy my sister or me anything personal which included pillows. My four-dollar pillow was a pile of rocks compared to the downy softness of my mother's five pillows. I used three and saved only two for my inquisitive lover.

"I've struck oil, my dear." It was Kevin at the dresser.

He held up an unusual object. It was a dildo. To be honest, I'd never seen one.

Kevin spoke to me with a serious expression. "I know, Jean, that as your pastor I should not stick a dildo in your hot pussy, but I promise to forgive you later at confession."

Jean is my mother's name. My stomach felt tight.

"That's not funny, Kevin."

"Jean," he said, not leaving the role of pastor-lover, "My wife's been in a wheelchair for 20 years now. I can't take it any longer. Every Sunday at church when I see you praying and singing I think, Jesus would forgive me for wanting such a beautiful woman."

I asked Kevin to stop. In response, he took a Bible from the drawer.

"It says right here," he pointed to a page in the giant tome, "that a pastor with wheelchair-ridden wife may seek physical solace after 20 years after which his vow of chastity has been served."

I was quiet.

Due to my lack of response and my inability to role-play, Kevin now was my mother. "Well, Pastor, if that's what the Bible says, then okay. Fuck me then."

Kevin put down the Bible and picked up the dildo from the dresser. During his role play, I had felt the air of frigidity arise. I wasn't sure I could play along. However, Kevin's dexterity with the dildo re-kindled my dying embers. I felt completely removed from my body's response. Seconds before I felt sick and humiliated. One touch later, all thoughts of guilt were dissipated.

Kevin moved the dildo around my labia, and my clit. Kevin moved the dildo inside my vagina with one hand while he caressed my clit with the other. This was the first time I'd used a dildo, if you could say I used it. It was harder than a penis could ever be. With Kevin's penis, I had an orgasm about half the time. The dildo was different. I had the urge to push it inside me as far as it could go.

"You do it," Kevin said, letting go of the dildo.

I was still slightly uncomfortable giving myself pleasure. I tried to push with the same pressure Kevin had used, but found it slightly difficult. Kevin stared at me with the look of a pervert. That made me even more uncomfortable.

"Go girl," he said lustfully, moving closer to me. He sat next to me and began masturbating. He caressed his erect penis as he gave me long, dirty looks.

His masturbating turned me on immensely. When Kevin and I had watched a porn flick a few weeks ago, I had felt embarrassed. It was the first time I'd watched a porn movie. Now Kevin was my live porn flick and I was getting excited. Is this how men felt all the time?

As Kevin stroked himself, he let out moans of pleasure. I became more adept at handling my dildo and serviced myself with as much intensity as Kevin serviced himself. Kevin spit in his hand and rubbed the spit all over the head of his penis, enhancing the pleasure. I licked my finger and touched my clit. I hadn't realized what a little spit could do for pleasure, even on a finger. I licked my finger again, tasting my own juices. Odd, but not unpleasant.

To be honest, I'd never really given myself an orgasm. Sure, I'd touched myself, but was always too embarrassed to go all the way. I don't know why. As I felt the excitement of my body and the dual excitement of doing it to myself, I noticed, again, the picture of my mother. Why didn't she teach me about the pleasures I could give myself? She obviously knew. This was her dildo inside of me. The thought both repulsed and excited me. She may have shut down her body, but I would not.

I pushed the dildo in deep, to that spot that made my legs tremble. I didn't need to rub my clit any longer. This orgasm was not going to be in my clit but in my vagina. It was deep inside. The more orgasms I had in a short period, I noticed, the deeper they became. This was going to be very deep, I could tell.