Waking to a Burn

"I know. Just put them on for now."

"Why?"

"I like how they make you look."

"How," she asked, "do they make me look?"

"Like a proper lady, a professional businesswoman. Distinguished. Sophisticated and mannerly."

Mom blinked at me, hiding a smile. "Well, that's the nicest thing you've said since we left the reception." She reached for them on the counter, unfolded them, and slid them over her eyes. When she glanced at me in the mirror, she saw my reaction. It made her unable to suppress that next smile.

"Amazing," I said, "I have never seen a more alluring, appropriate, and ladylike woman."

The smile faded. She doubted my intentions. "I want you to put some clothes on now."

"No."

She spun to face me, and I could tell by her turn--the way she held her head abnormally steady as she swung around--that she meant to stare me straight in the eyes. She was fixed and determined not to look at my body.

What's she hadn't planned for was my erection.

The thing was rigid enough to serve as the clapper for a churchbell. Pointed at her face, the skin around it shined with taut, frightening readiness.

Adding to the moment was the fact that all new-joins to the Rugby team are required to shave their body hair--we're "kids." We get to let our body hair grow out at the start of our second season. It was a silly tradition. Nevertheless, the absence of pubic hairs around my penis and testicles--and everywhere else, perhaps--had the additional impact of making my erection seem more prominent.

Mom hadn't noticed when I was in the dark across the room from her, stripping down. She couldn't see when I was close behind her, but when she spun to face me--.

Her eyes met mine. There was a fleeting moment of confusion, and she glanced down.

And she recoiled with a shocked gasp, covering her mouth as the countertop arrested her retreat. She stared at it. When I stepped toward her, one might have thought there was a tiger in our hotel room stalking her. Behind the glasses, her eyes went wide. She gripped the beveled edge of the counter.

Finally, she pried her eyes from my erection and looked up at me. I read in her face the struggle for ladylike control and the search for the proper words to address this unchivalrous conduct.

"Mister!" she eventually began, but she never finished. She hummed in surprise because I was kissing her on the lips. I pulled her away from the countertop and gripped her fanny ferociously, squeezing the flesh through her skirt, drawing the two fat bulbs apart, and squashing them together. The heft of it in my hands coaxed a growl out of me, but I didn't break the kiss.

The length of my erection, nestled into the fabric of her skirt, throbbed against her pelvis. Mom hummed again.

I broke the kiss. Her mouth fell open and she blinked, speechless. I turned her around and bent her over the counter. My hands snaked under her skirt and yanked her pantyhose and panties down to her thighs.

"Oh!" she gasped.

I hiked up her skirt, exposing that glorious fanny. All these months, I realized, I had missed it. Contentment swept over me. I sighed, staring at the cleft and curves. The tranquility of the moment didn't last long. My body hungered for her bottom.

I scanned the countertop and found what I needed. Reaching over Mom, I slid my hand inside her clear plastic travel make-up case. My fingers delved until they found the small container. I drew it out and set it on the counter beside her.

"Mister!" she exclaimed, eyeing the container with fright. "You wouldn't dare!"

I didn't respond.

I flicked the lid with my thumb. Mom watched my fingers dive in and scoop a thick wad of the goop.

Panting now, Mom declared, "I am a lady!" Her eyes went wide when my fingers slathered the petroleum jelly on her anus.

"And ladies don't play this way," I said. "And gentlemen don't even ask."

Gasping, she nodded. "It's beastly and improp--oh, Maureen!" My middle finger penetrated her. I slid it back and forth in her anus.

"I'm not asking," I said. "And I already know that you play this way."

Shocked by my words, Mom's head spun, craning back to see me. "I do no such thing. You're taking advantage--you took advantage before."

I pushed my erection against one of the impossibly soft spheres of her fanny. It slid over the curve, indenting the supple flesh like a power tool on a cushion. I did it again, muttering, "This scratches your itch."

She shook her head. "No, I am a respectable lady. I don't enjoy mating like--like a dirty whore."

Holding her hip with one hand, I stepped back and massaged the remaining goop onto my erection. She saw me in the mirror, whispering, "Oh, heavens. Oh, dearie."

"Tell me what's happening," I muttered.

Mom's breath caught in her throat, and she stammered, "You're--you're getting your penis ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Penetration," she gasped. "Anal penetration."

"Then what's going to happen?" I asked, snaking my erection inside the dark cleft.

Almost wheezing, Mom breathed, "You're going to mate with me."

Nestling the knob snug against her anus, I asked, "What would the dirty whore call it?"

She shook her head, arguing, "We decided not to do these things anymore, sugar. We shouldn't."

I groped her fanny, replying, "I know, and we won't. Not after tonight."

"But we will! You are! You can't stop yourself."

Her bottom felt thrilling in my hands. I said, "I can't right now, but when are we ever again going to share a hotel room for a night? When am I ever again going to be your date to a gala? All we have is this night."

She moaned and said, "I don't know, sugar."

I couldn't take it anymore--just feeling her bottom. I had to see it up close. I dropped to my knees behind her, and when I saw her perfect fanny exposed between the bottom of her scrunched-up skirt and the top of her stockings and panties, I clutched it and brought my face to it, sucking the flesh greedily.

"Oh, my goodness," Mom murmured.

With a pop, I drew back and growled, "Yes." Then I sucked the other half, tasting it with my tongue. With another pop, I leaned back and squeezed the two globes, exposing her pink star, all tautly puckered and shiny with lubrication. I spanked her just hard enough to sting, watching the skin respond.

Mom gasped.

I said, "When you were burned, it chafed and itched to the point of madness, right?" I dragged my tongue over one globe and spanked her again.

"Ouchie!" she cried. "It did!"

"Now, I'm the one with the burn. I've got a terrible itch. I've had it since I first saw you in this fanny-hugging skirt. It only got worse when you got on your knees to get your pen this morning."

"Oh, no."

"And I am going to take care of this itch," I declared. Then, I sucked and spanked her bottom for a third time.

Mom squeaked in surprise. The air around her bottom held the fragrance of her sex. I could almost taste it on my tongue. It was feminine and mildly floral, and it saturated me with an almost primordial urge to join my body to hers.

"And tonight," I explained, "you are going to be my woman--all night. We are going to do everything one last time."

Mom moaned, and I rose behind her, wiggling my penis into her fanny again until it nestled against her tight hole.

"Oh, Maureen," Mom whimpered to herself.

"Now, tell me what she would call this."

"Anal sex," she moaned.

"No, what would a dirty whore say?" I asked, applying just enough pressure for her anus to soften and hint at permitting entry.

Wheezing, Mom turned her face toward mine. Her head rocked as she panted for air. Our eyes met, and a beat passed. Something was communicated between us. I knew, then, she understood what I needed.

I don't know if the words she used to explain it in her mind were the same as mine, but she understood what I was after. She knew this was a brief little rebellion against her world of manners and propriety. Her son needed to shed the skin of a gentleman--just for a little while--and be the beast to her beauty. She knew that by allowing this she would soothe my burn.

"Tell me," I demanded, urging the tip against her.

She swallowed and cried, "Ass--ass fucking!"

Every hair on my body thrilled to hear her curse so darkly. She'd said it perfectly. There was no dramatization, no role-play. She had not wanted to use that language, but she'd found a way to do it for me.

"How would she ask for it?" I pursued.

Mom groaned her reluctance to say such filth, but she did. She said, "Put your--put your cock in my ass."

"And when it feels too good, Mom, what's going to happen?" The head of my penis began to stretch her open.

She felt the tension. "Your semen!" she hollered as if to give voice to the pressure on her anus.

"Say what the dirty whore would say."

"Please don't ask me to, sug--oh!" The knob fell inside of her. Mom suddenly cried the words I wanted to hear, cried them as if they would ease the unyielding tension in her bottom. "Cum in my asshole!"

I felt the tight grip of her anus over the plum tip, and I waited there, giving her time to acclimate and letting the raw pleasure I felt romp wildly.

While Mom panted underneath me, I told her how badly I needed this. I said how beautiful and ladylike she looked and behaved all day during the meetings, and that I needed to mate with her anally. I uttered that I had to bend her over, had to fill her bottom with my semen. I had to make the lady into a filthy whore.

"I know, sugar. Please!" she replied gaspingly.

I drove deep. My hips mashed into her fanny, and Mom bawled, pleading with me to wait there. I did. I looked down, seeing how my erection split her bottom, forcing the two curvy halves apart. I was overjoyed--it sounds strange to say, but I was--getting my penis back inside of her anus once again.

I liked how she was bent over for me. I liked how challenging it was for her to accommodate me. I liked hearing her panting and moaning.

"Let me," I uttered, watching her face in the mirror.

Mouth agape and eyes pinned shut, she nodded wearily. I began to gently thrust inside her.

My gosh, those glasses, how they transfigured her into the perfect serious businesswoman. She could be the CEO of a company. Her hair added to the effect--pulled impossibly tight against her head and braided in the back in a soldierly echelon until the long, lush ends could be coiled into a bun and pinned beside it.

The suit jacket. The light blue blouse. The skirt and pantyhose. The heels. The perfection of her make-up. Everything about her screamed graciousness and dignity.

And the jewelry. Those gold earrings with the teardrop sky-blue pendants--I watched them wobble in the mirror as she withstood my thrusts. The necklace, too. It was princess style, a thin golden rope that suspended a fat jewel of that same light blue. Not just dignified and gracious, I realized. Rich. She was a rich, bounteous treasure.

I groaned in satisfaction.

For a moment, I could almost see myself as if an observer in the room. There was a young man, barely out of boyhood, with a clean-shaven body, fit and stacked with new pockets of muscles. His hips thrust smoothly and deeply. Before him, bent over a countertop was a sophisticated, extremely well-dressed professional woman--a tall, voluptuous middle-aged blonde in glasses. Her skirt had been hiked over her hips. Her panties and hose haphazardly stripped down to her mid-thighs. The only naked, vulnerable part of her was her large, shapely bottom. The young man's glistening erection drove in and out of the cleft in a position and angle that could not have been mistaken for anything other than anal sex.

I spread her bottom so that I could see what was happening. If I was looking at her anus, I was looking at one stretched so wide that all the creases and wrinkles had been distended to uniform smoothness. There was a sheen of lubrication that surrounded the flesh. The veiny shaft of my penis, equally glossy with grease, rode back and forth like the oily steel rod of a mechanical pump.

I hadn't changed the tempo or strength of my thrusts when Mom suddenly let out a long, airy moan. The sound pushed me higher, closer to climax. I groaned in response, gripping her hips and driving into her with newfound energy.

Mom's head rose and she bayed achingly.

"Yes," I muttered. "Please--." I didn't even know what I was asking for.

Mom's eyes opened. Her face shining with perspiration, she encouraged me to ejaculate and to do it in her bottom--only she used the words of a dirty whore.

Her words stopped me, triggering a realization. Shaft buried to the hilt inside of her, I huffed, "When I asked you about doing this together all those months ago--."

Panting, she nodded.

"You lied to me," I said. "You liked it, didn't you?"

She closed her eyes and nodded again. There was no guile or art. This was the truth. "But I didn't lie about it being my first time," she gaspingly replied. "It was."

"Tell me."

"I can't help it, sugar. I--I like pleasing you this way. It's not ladylike, and it makes me a hypocrite, I know, but--there's something special in it--the rugged obscenity of it and how full of man I feel with your penis in there. I like being enjoyed by you, even when it hurts."

I nodded, wiping my brow. Something else crystallized in my mind. I said it without even thinking. The words poured from me like a revelation as we looked at one another in the mirror. "You like posing in swimsuits and bikinis. You want men to enjoy looking at you. You like the idea that, somewhere out there, a man is staring at a picture of you from a copy of Bonny Blue, getting hard and masturbating to the image of your body."

She stared at me, not denying a word.

Continuing, I said, "And if you weren't so concerned about being a proper lady, you would pose in the nude. You've thought about it. You've looked into the paid websites for models. You've considered uploading pictures and movies of yourself. Am I right? Is it true?"

After a beat, she nodded.

"If you could be a respectable lady and make pornographic films that men around the world watched, you would."

"I would," she said, nodding. "But I would never, ever cheat on my man. Never."

I nodded.

"Do you hate me, sugar?"

"Mom, no," I said with my penis buried in her fat bottom. "I understand you now. I get it, is all."

"You still love me?"

"Yeah. Always, Mom."

"Thank you."

She reached back, and we squeezed hands. This, I told myself, is why I liked mating with my mother. I came to know her better, and by knowing her, I could see what my long-dead father saw in her--how he fell in love with the woman.

But, it was an awkward moment, too. I wasn't sure how to proceed. Hesitantly, I asked, "Mom, may I--do you want me to--?"

"Oh, please, sugar. Yes, do take your pleasure of me."

Our eyes met again, and it was another moment of silent communication between us. I was out of my groove, and something needed to happen to get me back in.

"I understand," she huffed. "Take it out of me--gently."

I held her hips and drew my erection free.

Mom pushed herself up and turned toward me. She surveyed my body, running her fingers along my clean-shaven chest and tummy. Then, her fingers explored my hairless groin and testicles. She smiled and said, "It's a lovely change."

Then, without pulling down her skirt or pulling up her panties and stockings, she stepped past me and climbed onto the bed on all fours, bottom to me. She crawled around in a circle. Halfway, she stared through those glasses into my eyes and unbuttoned her blouse, letting her thick cleavage show. Then, she continued her turn.

I was on fire. Just as her fanny reappeared, I sprang at her. Seizing her calves, I dragged her to the edge of the bed.

"Oh, heavens!"

Feet on the floor and chest on the mattress, I could not have put her in a more vulnerable position. With only her bottom exposed to me, I straddled her legs and drew the cleft open. Her anus was slightly engorged. I leaned over her and slid my erection into the gap. When the tip found her little hole, Mom huffed, "That's it, sugar. Right there, but enter me gently, please."

The knob quartered itself inside, and she gasped. When I began thrusting, she cried out. My thrusts quickened and grew stronger.

"Tell me," I said.

With a whore's words, she told me what to do, and I did it. Harder. She bayed and moaned like a stricken animal. I knew I couldn't last much longer.

"Tell me," I grunted.

She told me things--shocking things in the most vulgar terms. She told me what she wanted and where she wanted it.

My hips fired at her bottom in a frenzy. She felt my body quake with the onset of climax.

"Mom!"

"Sugar!"

I was bound to her there, suddenly immovable. All I had inside her was the knob, and the feeling of my erection tightly clutched by her anus as it disgorged burst upon burst of semen was so sharp in its exultation that I roared with the absolute glory of it.

Mom bellowed under me as if in response, her voice weak with fatigue.

The pulses faded and ended. When the head of my erection slipped out, Mom sighed deeply and so did I.

"Oh, my goodness," Mom moaned. "Oh, sugar."

"Yeah," I said, collapsing onto the bed beside her.

After a spell of catching our breaths, Mom's head rose from the mattress, and she crawled to me. She rested her head on my shoulder and her arm across my stomach. She kissed my cheek and thanked me.

"I'm the one should be thanking you," I replied.

"No, sugar. You have no idea how exciting it is to be desired by you."

I turned to her.

She nodded. "An old gal like me? Making a young stud holler like you did? Bringing you that much pleasure with this old body? Oh, sugar, you have no idea what a thrill it is."

"Old gal? Old body?" I replied, "Mom, you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen."

She grinned and laughed. "Well, I won't argue with a compliment like that, but just so as you know, it's gratifying beyond words to know my body brought you such pleasure."

I nodded and sighed in contentment hugging her close. Not long after, Mom's index finger began tracing circles around my navel, and she said, "Sugar?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question--maybe one that's a touch private?"

"Yeah."

Her finger stopped. "Have you ever--? Remember how you surmised that men masturbated to pictures of me? From Bonny Blue?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ever masturbate to my photograph?"

I turned and our eyes met. "Yeah."

"Tell me about it?"

I did. I told her the basics and left out the details of that once-buried tale that I only remembered after I leafed through one of the newer issues back in June.

"You felt guilty about it," she offered, "didn't you?"

I nodded. "At the time, sure."

"And now?"

I shook my head.

"Which picture was it?" she asked.

I described it--a sporty white bikini with a small buckle at the bridge of the top and a wider one on the bottoms.

"I remember that one!"

"Your pose--."

"It was a rear shot," Mom interrupted excitedly. "My hands are against the wall of a pool cabana, and the top didn't quite cover the sides of my breasts. My back is arched while I look back at the camera."

"That's the one."

"And you found that picture, and it gave you an erection?"

I nodded.

"Tell me what you felt and saw. Tell me what happened."

It was a tale of curiosity, discovery, and astonishment. I told her about it.

Mom closed her eyes and tilted her head back. "Oh, sweet potato pie, that's--oh!"

"What?"

"Tell me the rest. What happened after?"

I described my frantic efforts to clean up the mess I'd made and hide the evidence that was splattered across the pages of the magazine.

When I finished, her hand cupped my cheek, and she brought me in for a kiss. Breaking it, she asked if we still had the issue at home.