Tending to My Fat Mom Ch. 05

Okay, I was addicted to her. I won't deny it. This was, well, not just pleasure although God knows there was a lot of that, and not just a weird fetish although God knows there was a lot of that too. It was an odd combination of dominance and submission but that doesn't cover it either.

Her skin was clearing up because of the way I was taking care of her. After I washed her in our morning shower I would go over every square inch of her beautiful body and as I was doing that I was the one in charge.

She was utterly relaxed when I did that, almost like a cat asleep in the afternoon sun. And I loved tending to her. Each fold and roll, each deep tunnel, each blemish was precious to me and I enjoyed what I was doing.

I was especially careful around her pussy and ass. At her size, her mons was a bag of fat that hung, a separate thing, like a soft volleyball covered in skin with a simple slit down the middle. I would lift it, push the soft bag of her labia to the side and then carefully wash that fold. Given where it was, the bacteria from a couple of inches away, I often needed the Desitin. So I would wash and then dry and kiss and apply the white cream.

I had most of her body cleared up pretty well but that area between her thighs and her belly button, well, the deep crease that was her belly button, still often needed treatment. Robert Heinlein in a story once, I forget which one, had explained that God could not possibly have been an engineer because no engineer would put the sewer and the playground right next to each other. Mom was a good example of that poor engineering.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I kept her clean now. After her morning business when she would pee and poop I always washed her carefully. But it's a damp area, the kind of place that yeast and mold and bacteria just love. So I had to pay particular attention to those delightfully private places.

It turned out she enjoyed analingus. We discovered that, mutually, almost by accident. I was doing her back and had found the first hint of a rash on her taint - you know the old joke, what do you call that little spot between a woman's vagina and asshole? Her taint. "T'aint ass and t'aint pussy."

Anyway, I washed it, carefully but to do that I had to spread her wide. That little rosebud, tiny on her huge body, surrounded by that circle of perfectly smooth and hairless skin, beckoned and I kissed it. When her hips rocked in invitation I kissed it again, more thoroughly. When I smelled her arousal I used my fingertips to open her up. Mom's a big woman and she shits big so when I did that I had a good-sized tunnel right there. So I kissed it but also I ran my tongue as deep as I could.

And she came, suddenly and explosively.

It was so unexpected I just froze and watched as her natural lubricant, thick and white, kept flowing from her.

When she started to relax I ran my tongue up her ass again and she came again.

I did that a dozen times or so before she collapsed, spent.

Then it seemed perfectly natural to scoop up a handful of that thick white honey, cover my hand in it, and then slip my hand up that dark tunnel.

She hissed softly as my knuckles stretched those powerful sphincter muscles of her anus but once the biggest part of my hand was passed that portal she relaxed again. With that Rubicon crossed, I began exploring the inside of her rectal vault with my hand.

"Oh myyyyyyy," she sighed as my fingertips pressed against the walls, exploring deeper. When I felt something warm and firm I realized I was close to the entrance to her bowels and there was absolutely no way I could have stopped myself from exploring further. I traced the shape of that incipient turd, finding where her bowels emptied into her rectum and pushed past it into her colon.

I was so focused on what I was doing I was beyond thought. My mind was racing and images flashed. I could see my Human Anatomy and Physiology book and picture where my hand was. I was also very much aware of her as my mother into whose asshole my arm was buried about halfway up my forearm.

When I pushed a little deeper I touched the wall of her colon and stopped, fascinated, feeling the slow movement there as her smooth muscles kept her peristalsis going, moving the waste of her body towards the exit.

When I pressed she cried out, "JESUS, NO," and I felt the sudden cramp of those muscles.

I was thinking clearly enough to know better than to move suddenly so I just held still and rubbed her back with my free hand as the cramp passed. Then I slowly, carefully, started pulling my hand out.

Mom was almost chanting as I did that. "Oh God, oh Jesus, oh God, oh Jesus," over and over while her sphincter squeezed and relaxed.

As the widest part of my hand stretched her I deliberately flattened it, opening her as wide as I could.

She groaned and continued her chanting.

My hand was thoroughly covered in shit but the smell wasn't really unpleasant. Oh, it was, well, "earthy" is a good word. But I didn't mind.

"Hold still," I said and went into the bathroom. I started the water running hot while I went through the stack of towels, finding the oldest, most thread-bare one. I washed my hands thoroughly, wet the towel in the hot water, and went back to clean her up.

She had her knees under her when I walked into the bedroom, and her hands were holding her spread open.

"You made this mess," she said over her shoulder, "now taste it."

"Mom," I said, hating the whine in my voice.

"Go on," she said, implacable.

I got up onto the bed, behind her, my knees between hers, and covered her hands with mine. The big deep crease of her big ass was liberally shit-smeared. But I knew I couldn't resist her. As I moved closer the scent was stronger, and I was surprised that I didn't find it unpleasant.

When my tongue touched where she was smeared I was surprised. There wasn't any taste at all. I suppose it makes sense. The good stuff had been absorbed by her body. But I was surprised.

So I licked some more.

She didn't move as I carefully washed her after that first time. I licked some more but then used the wet towel to thoroughly clean her. I didn't want what I had done to give her any fresh rashes.

Yes, I thought, good sex is often messy but never dirty.