Quinn's Quickies 05: Missing Mommy

It's been a long time and there have been a lot of requests for the continuation of this story. I have written and then rewritten it and it just hasn't come together for me yet. Plus I have plenty of other stuff going on,. Suffice to say, even though I have another chapter or two to go before the final conclusion, this is what I have for now. It is a little taster to let you know I am still around and I hope to give you a conclusion in the near future. I hope you enjoy it.

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I sat in the aisle seat, waiting impatiently for the door to hiss shut and the bus to start moving. Why wasn't it moving? I scrutinized every face that came down the aisle. Were they looking at me? Had they seen through my subterfuge?

The middle-aged woman beside me, clutching her paper bag wrapped dinner, glared at my legs which jogged with nervous energy.

This was it.

Six months. That's how long it had been since I'd last seen my mother, touched her, hugged her, kissed her lips. The interminable wait was finally over. It had to be over. I'd done everything I could think of. There was no way Brian would figure out what I was up to. Would he?

I thought back to what seemed like a lifetime ago, to the night Brian broke into our house and found us together. Me, with my cock buried deep in the embrace of my mother's wet, hot vagina. Her, crying out my name as I poured a thick load of cum into her deepest inner recesses.

The shock. The anger. The recriminations and then, finally, the threats. Brian would never let it go. He would've taken my brother Ian away from Mom. Not because he wanted any part in raising his own son, but because he knew that would hurt her more than anything. It may have taken me a while to realize it, but Mom knew it in that very moment. While I was still reeling from Brian's intrusion on our secret world, that brilliant mind of hers was already putting together an escape plan.

She'd been correct in her every prediction. Even though Brian could prove nothing of our glorious, incestuous affair he'd wasted no time in coming after us. He took it very personally and began hounding us relentlessly. The complaints he called into the police and social services were, thankfully, easily subverted by my mother. The people Brian sent after us were quickly, despite his claims to the contrary, able to establish she was a more than fit mother.

Still, I hoped he would grow tired and leave us alone. That hope died quickly when I had my last confrontation with Brian. Despite my mother begging me to stay away from him I couldn't help it when I saw him parked in his douche-bag red sportscar outside our house. I marched up to him, ready to put him down like I had in Mom's bedroom. Only this time, it would be for good. I was halted when I saw his grin and then, a moment later, a flash of metal from where he'd lifted the lapel of his jacket. Careful not to reveal it openly on the street, he made sure I had a clear view of the gun he wore tucked in a holster under his arm.

"Come on, kid. Just give me an excuse," he chuckled, with no hint of humor, "No sucker punches this time. I'm ready for you." The look in his eyes told me then that he was not going to ever leave us again. We'd humiliated him. He'd been cuckolded by his own stepson, and it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip entirely. I retreated, the blood in my veins running cold. I didn't mention the incident to my mother, but after that, I did everything I could to help her prepare for her flight. There was no other way.

The only good thing was that Brian held off directly playing the incest card. He may not have had proof but if you fling enough shit some of it is bound to stick. Mom said it was his pride that stopped it. No man wanted to be publicly cuckolded and our particular brand of it would do nearly as much damage to him as to us. Nevertheless, the threat loomed large and I am certain he got off on knowing we were sweating over when he would drop the bomb.

There was no respite though, he hounded us relentlessly every day after his discovery. After showing me the gun there were no more confrontations in person but an endless stream of threats and abuse through Emails, phone calls, lawyer's letters followed. When Brian wasn't lurking outside our house in person he hired a low-rent PI firm to sit in shifts, watching us ceaselessly through unblinking camera lenses, just waiting to catch a slip-up.

It was agonizing being so close to her all the time, knowing that our time was running out, and being unable to pull her into my arms. The risk was too great, she reasoned. Just one picture or recorded conversation and Ian could be taken from her. We doubted Brian could have got a recording device in the house. But, his dogged persistence told us that we could not risk underestimating him.

It took her all of two weeks to get ready. Two weeks to wrap up an entire life. I felt like I'd barely caught my breath before the final hour was approaching and we were putting Ian down for an early nap. If all went to plan he was going to have a long and restless night.

Mom was in the hall closet, trying to get down some extra baby blankets to take with her. When I saw she couldn't reach I stepped in behind her and grabbed what she was stretching for. For the first time in what felt like an age, our bodies brushed together. We'd been so good the last two weeks. It'd been torture, standing across from each other, needing to feel her skin on mine, and not being able to do it, even in our own house. I couldn't even share her bed. For one thing, it made Mom too uneasy, especially after the last time we had been together. For another, I'd found the scuff marks of muddy shoes on the wall outside the bedroom window where Brian, or one of his goons, had been snooping around the house at night.

So, the touch of her body against mine, even through clothing, was electric. I felt her stiffen and then, as I froze behind her, she sank back, turning liquid against me. I took her gently by the shoulders and rotated her. Her beautiful face turned to mine and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, Chase," She mouthed the words more than said them. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled to contain her emotions. I brushed her honey-colored hair behind her ear, then pulled her head into my chest. She wrapped her arms around my back and we just held each other like that for a long time, enjoying once more how perfectly we fit together. I inhaled the rose scent of her shampoo and felt myself growing instantly hard. She sniffled, took a deep breath, and then tried to tilt her head up to say something to me. I did not let her speak though, instead I captured her mouth with mine and gave her a kiss like a man lost at sea for weeks takes his first desperate gulp of fresh water. She met me with an equal need. Blindly my hand found the closet door and pulled it closed, our kiss never breaking. The bare lightbulb hanging above us cast our features into sharply contrasted shadows.

"I know we shouldn't risk it," She panted through hungry kisses, "But I just need you so much, Chase. I don't know when I'll see you again my darling, sweet boy. My love. We're safe, aren't we?" Her big eyes pleaded with me to say it was so.

I had no voice, I was choked with emotion and need, so I nodded and pulled her towards me again. It hardly mattered after tonight, if everything went to plan, she'd be gone. A pain stabbed my heart as I wrapped my arms tighter around her.

Her hands burrowed into my hair and she dragged me deeper into our kiss. Our bodies began to act on their own, writhing and rubbing against each other like a couple of horny teenagers having their first sexual encounter.

Her hands, normally so skilled, so self-assured, fumbled with my belt buckle. There was hardly any room to move in the cramped cupboard, so I held her close, not willing to let go. Not yet. If I stopped to think about it I knew it would seem ridiculous. How had we come to this point? How were we hiding in a cramped linen closet in our own house just so we could find a way to physically express everything we were feeling emotionally? How was it that my mother was really contemplating leaving and never coming back?

I hated Brian. I hated him for the pain he brought my mother, the neglect of my brother, and now the terrible threat he posed to our loving family every single day.

When the buckle finally came loose, Mom tugged my jeans roughly open at the front. "I need you so much, baby," she whined. My cock came free of my boxers and her hand gripped it possessively. I tried to hold her as she began to sink to her knees. It really was enough for me just to hold her to me. But time was running out and her need was immediate. I cried out as she plunged, open-mouthed, onto my cock. Her hand still gripping the shaft she engulfed my head with a wet heat that scalded me with its intensity.

"Mom!" I gasped, trying to stifle it even as the pleasure overwhelmed me. I let my hands sink into her thick tresses and lightly held her head as she began to bob up and down on my length. She slurped on my shaft, taking the time to release it from her fierce vacuum and kiss it from tip to base and back up again. It was as if she were trying to build as complete a mental picture of my cock as possible by taking it in through all her senses. After a week of being cooped up inside with her and being unable to touch her, I was soon bubbling over with a need to release. But, if this was to be our last encounter for who knew how long, I had to make it count.

I used my hands to slow her before she devoured me beyond the point of no return. I pried her loose of my cock, though it pained me to do it, and I tried to lift her back up again. She resisted, her gaze darting like a dog having its bone dragged away, desperate for fulfillment but uncertain how best to get it.

Slowly, with much coaxing, she rose. Her hand still clutched my shaft. I pulled her up and carelessly kissed her again on her shining, wet mouth. While I did this my hands worked her shirt up, over the prodigious shelf of her chest. My fingers dug into her bra and hauled her enormous tits out of their cups and let the splash heavily against her body. I pushed them up and together, rubbing my thumbs roughly over her already stiffened nipples. I loved her breasts almost as much as I loved her. They had nourished me twice in my life. Once when I was born and again, only a few months ago, when I was feeling lost and alone in the world. I had not realized it then, but they had shown me a world I had not known existed. When love and lust filled virtually your every thought then the world is a very different place to live in. Happiness, the kind they write about in insipid romances, the kind I'd begun to doubt could ever exist, had come to fill every pore in my body and color every thought in my mind. I loved her so much that even being this close to her was not enough. The thought of parting this very evening caved a great hole in my chest.

I kissed down her neck, over her clavicle and across the great expanse of dense flesh of her chest. Though not as superhuman as they had been when we'd begun our tryst, back then they'd been inflated close to bursting with her over-productive mammary glands, they were still the biggest tits I'd ever encountered. They were as youthful and exuberant as she was and so sensitive she could not fight her moans as I slurped a fat nipple into my mouth.

As I suckled her, my hands worked on her jeans. My need had crystallized into a razor focus though, and the denim and her cotton panties seemed to melt away at my touch. I only rolled them down as far as her thighs before I slid my hand over her coarse hair to cup her dripping sex. Squeezing it was like wringing out a sponge soaked in hot water. When my fingers pierced her folds a rivulet of liquid trickled down my hand and dripped onto her bare thigh. I'd never known a woman who had a need for me like my mother did, whose body responded to mine like we were linked together and, once joined, functioned almost as a single entity.

While I moved from one nipple to the other, licking wide circles around her broad areolae, I massaged fingers into her saturated cleft. She whimpered and clumsily worked around me to force her jeans down the rest of the way to the floor.

When she managed to step out of them, clutching my head deep into her cleavage so as not to overbalance, I seized her under her armpits and hoisted her bodily into the air. She threw her arms and legs around me at the same time, clinging to me as I held her suspended, and merged her mouth once more with mine, our tongues performing a formless dance in the slippery depths of our mouths.

With her arms clasped behind my neck, I was able to release my hold on her long enough to reach under the flare of her wonderfully plump bottom and grip my cock. It was tacky with her saliva and so flint-like in hardness it almost felt brittle. I fought to bend it under her body, shoving roughly along the line of her cleft and over her asshole before jamming it with little finesse into the tight, but well lubricated, crevice that awaited me. She let out a long, shuddering sigh as her body slid down my shaft.

I held her like that for a long moment, our breathing hot and loud in each other's ears. Her pussy was like an aperture into the divine. There was no feeling like having her clamped down on my cock. But this was but an eye in the storm of our desire. Soon she was mewling, rolling her hips against me, and trying to squeeze me in just a few more millimeters. My body could not resist and began to move in concert with hers. There was no room in the tiny closet and we thudded into shelves, walls, and the door as we began to pummel each other. Though we kissed lovingly, the sex was combative, even animalistic. We rutted against each other, our crotches slapping together mercilessly. There were barely restrained cries of pleasure and kneading, groping, squeezing explorations of each other's body that would have been painful if they hadn't been so exquisite.

As the pressure built up to intolerable levels within us, I turned with her to pin her back to the door. Holding her there I let my hips free of the last tethers of restraint. They slammed into her with all my force. Her teeth were bared in a grimace of pleasure. Her huge tits flopped and sloshed with perilous force. As I bucked into her with blurring speed, I bit down on her neck with enough force to leave teeth marks. I felt as much as heard the shout of pleasure that resonated out of her throat as I jacked her up to the very pinnacle of her tipping point.

My muscles were cramping with fatigue and the approaching climax. My last few remaining thrusts punched through the soft, cloying tissues within her. Each one felt like the stroke of a pump, inflating the head of my cock, bigger and bigger until, finally, it burst. Thick, hot cum exploded deep inside her. My mom threw her head back and let out a voiceless scream as the flood inside her tipped her over the edge and she clamped down with violent muscle spasms on my cock. Her body continued to wring the cum out of me with spasmodic clutches of her internal muscles.

The violent climax drained us both. I nearly dropped her as she clumsily descended from me. As my cock slipped free of her slit my cum poured out of her, coating her thighs and running down to her calves.

"Shit, that's a lot," she panted as she tried to herself on shaky legs.

I nodded. We were both hot and sweaty from the stifling cupboard and the rampant fucking, and I was a little preoccupied licking the salty taste of her sweat off her tits. But I managed a muffled, "It's been a very long two weeks, Mom."

"Too long," She said in a wavering voice.

I broke from the kisses I was raining down on her huge breasts and looked up at her. Her eyes were liquid with unshed tears. "We can do this, Mom," I began confidently and then ended meekly, "Can't we?"

She hugged me to the pillowy softness of her bosom and sniffed, "We have to. I wish to God we didn't, but it's the only way. The only way we can keep Ian without looking over our shoulders and the only way you and I can ever be together. The world just won't understand."

I rose and hugged her tight to me, saying, "Yeah, I suppose. Once more it's you and me against the world, Mom." I felt her hot tears soaking into my T-shirt. Her sobs were silent, but her grip on me was almost unendurable. We clung to each other for as long as we could. We had nothing left to say to each other. We knew what was in each other's hearts as well as we knew our own.

When we eventually broke free, a feeling like tearing open a partially healed wound, things progressed far too quickly. We dressed, left the cupboard, which was to be our last bastion of comfort for a long time, and set about the final preparations.

It was after midnight when we stood together in the kitchen one final time. She'd showered and changed and, despite being a little wan, looked fresh and heart-wrenchingly lovely. I wiped a last tear off my mom's cheek and then donned a ridiculous pink wig we had left over from some dress-up party my mom went to years ago. She even managed a weak smile when she saw the full effect. We'd reasoned that no one would see the color in the night, but the shape mattered and my mom had spent a long time working on the wig with scissors to get as close to her length and style as possible.

The last kiss I gave her would have been chaste if it were not so charged with emotion and repressed desire. "You ready?" I said through a deep breath.

She nodded, "All set. I'll wait 10 minutes after you leave then take Ian and go. I'm hoping he won't wake up."

"He won't, he's a good kid," I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but I'm not sure it carried across. "Time to go," I gave her hand a squeeze, "Are you sure you won't tell me where you're going?"

She shook her head sadly and said, "I wish I could, you know that, Chase. But I can't have you perjure yourself for me. When the time is right, I'll let you know. You just keep an eye out for the signal."

"I will. Every single day. I love you," I said, feeling the lump growing in my throat as I drifted backward, our hands breaking contact.

"I love you too,"

I turned then and forced myself to walk out of the kitchen, knowing that if I stayed longer or looked back I wouldn't be able to leave her. I had to do this to help us get free and clear of the threat of Brian and to give us a fresh start.

The garage door closed behind me and I was alone in the darkness.

My mother's plan was simple but less likely to fail because of it. When she explained it to me I begged her to reconsider, to take me with her. But she calmly explained why that was impossible. She would not let me quit college when I was so close to completing my undergrad. She also needed misdirection to escape the watching eyes. I was that misdirection.

In my wig, I opened the garage door and reversed her car out into the street. I relied on the dim suburban lighting to convince the jaded PI sitting in his Crown Vic that my head was in fact the silhouette of a woman. A woman who drove like she was in a hurry. I felt both elation and sinking dread as the car parked outside our house flared its lights and peeled out of its parking place. My job was mostly done, all I had to do after that was stay well ahead of the driver tailing me and lead them on a merry chase across half the county.

The sinking dread I felt was for the knowledge that right at the moment my mother, Ian's carrier tucked under one arm, would be stealing into the backyard. She would slip through a hole I'd made in the neighbor's fence earlier that day, sneak past their house, open a garden gate I had disabled the lock on, and make her way down the street to meet a waiting taxi on the corner. After that, I had no idea. She was just going to disappear and I had to hope that soon she would be in contact to let me know she'd made it somewhere safe.