Paul's Mother

Paul stepped back, grinning down at her, still looking between her legs. Rita spread them open, her cunt gaping wetly. Paul dropped to his knees, almost worshipfully holding his breath. He knelt at her side, and Rita pulled his cheek to her bare thigh, his face turned toward her cunt. Running her hand through his hair, she trembled as she smiled at him.

"Lick it, Paul. Lick the spunk out! You like to lick pussy, like you used to put in your letters ..." She shook her head, and added, "It made me jealous!"

He stared at her labia, red, infused with blood, throbbing, needing more. He buried his face into her wet flesh, not minding the pubes he was almost swallowing. Her cunt had a musky odor and it leaked pussy cream, and he liked the odor. It was different than other women he had licked, no woman smells alike. Some use gels, some a vaginal cream, but his mother smelled musky with a suggestion of lavender. It was a good smell.

Licking his mother's privates made him feel like a kid again. Like when he sat on her lap with his head against her breasts. She tickled his balls when they played Humpty Dumpty. He liked it when she made his dick hard. It was fun.

Paul's hot breath tingled on her naked thigh as she sat in the chair with her ass hanging over the edge. His face felt good on her naked leg, and she was confused about her feelings. She felt so very good right now, not at all embarrassed or ashamed.

They rested, neither speaking, but looking into each other's eyes quietly. Rita even lifted her twisted skirt higher until her belly button was exposed. She pushed her hand nervously upward toward her tits.

"Do you want to see them?" she asked, whispering softly.

He nodded, grinning and sliding his hand to her ass.

Her hand moved to her tits, sliding from one to the other. They felt much too swollen for her bra now, and her nipples were still painfully stiff. She slipped one strap down, slowly pulling the top of her dress downward. Her nipple slipped into view, and she watched his eyes as he gazed at it. She saw hot hunger there, a hunger that seemed as wild as her own.

Surprising herself again, Rita began to circle her nipple with the tip of one finger, making it tingle and bulge even more. Fascinated by her own boldness now, she cupped her tit and squeezed it, letting the nipple slide between her fingers. Using her other hand, she drew his hand up her body and curled his fingers around her tit.

Paul squeezed, then began to twist and pull at her nipple.

"Ohhhhh, honey!" Rita cooed, her eyes flashing in heat. With a sinking sensation, she knew the gates of her passion had been thrown wide open, allowing her son entrance to her inner self, her passionate inner self.

With his face resting on her thigh, she pushed her knees farther apart. He kept pulling and twisting her nipple, but he was also watching her pussy spread open. Rita smoothed her fingers through the soft curls, sliding the edge of one finger along the side of her clit, mewling softly. She spread her cunt open with two fingers, the wet, pink flesh pulsating gently.

"Paul ..." she whispered. "Paul!"

A hot gush of piss spewed out of her cunt.

Paul jerked his head up, mouth gaping in surprise.

"Oh, my God! I didn't mean--oh, that's embarrassing!" Rita gasped, blushing wildly, clamping her hand over her cunt.

To her horror, she spurted again, hot piss spewing around the edges of her palm.

Paul stared, then giggled.

Rita tried to stop, but the harder she tried, the more she pissed. Her inner thighs dripped with piss, pooling on the floor.

"What am I doing?" she cried in embarrassment.

"Pissing, Mom!" Paul giggled.

He tried to pull her hand away, but Rita cupped her cunt totally embarrassed. But she was weak, and her son moved her hand easily.

Rita attempted to close her legs, but she couldn't do that, either. She almost managed to stop pissing, but it was still dribbling from her cunt.

"Don't look at me!" she cried frantically. "Please, Paul, don't look at me!"

Paul pushed at her legs, spreading them far apart. Rita was unable to stop him, and as her son gazed at her open cunt, she began to piss in a hard stream. She turned her face to one side, feeling fiery heat on her cheeks. She felt her son holding her legs apart, watching her piss. No one had ever watched her do this, and certainly she had never lost control before. And she had never pissed with her legs so far apart.

"Keep it up, Mom!" Paul gasped. "Piss, Mom! Ohhh, you're pissing hard! Look at it spurt out!"

Rita peeked downward, seeing the hot stream of piss spewing out in an arc, hearing it splatter on the kitchen floor. She began to shiver, her cunt tightening, causing the piss to gush out in short spurts.

Finally, much to her relief, she stopped. But Rick kept holding her knees spread apart.

"Paul, let me ..."

He released her, and she closed her legs. She couldn't look at him now, but she knew he was grinning at her. Getting up, she had trouble smoothing her dress, still trying to do so when she walked out of the kitchen.

Rita entered her bedroom. She stood in the center of the room, hands wringing as she tried to come to grips with herself. It had been bad enough last night to lose control and practically rape her son, and then to be so helpless this morning that she had let him fuck her again. But why she had lost bladder control, right there in the kitchen as her son watched confused her more than ever.

Removing her clothes, she stepped into her shower and adjusted the water to a stinging spray.

Later, in a fresh sun-dress, she sat on her bed, thinking hard about what had happened, finding no answers. Taking a deep breath, she stood up, drawing upon every ounce of courage she had. Then she left her room, determined to face her son.

He was in the living room, holding her panties.

"Paul," she said in a low, nervous voice, hands folded in front of her body like a shy little girl. "I think you and I have to talk."

Paul held her panties up, grinning at her. "Mom, I like your undies! What are we gonna talk about?"

She trembled. "About what's happened between us."

"If you wanna talk about it, that's okay with me," he said, dropping the panties on the couch. "But I'd rather do it than talk."

* * *

When the landlady rang the doorbell, it was because she wanted to talk to Rita. It was a bad time because Rita wasn't able to come to door. The landlady spoke to Paul, giving him a sweet smile and asking him when he was coming to church.

"God has unlimited patience, you know, but if you keeping fucking your mother, I might have to evict you. Paul, this is not a bordello!"

Paul just stared at her, his mouth hanging open. She reached into her apron and pulled out a tract. It said "Jesus loves you."