I was thinking about one of the things I often think about. Why do we do things? I was also thinking about my mother…pornographic thoughts. The strange thing about it is that I really didn't want to do pornographic things to her. I wanted to do loving things to her. I wanted to have her warm lips pressing on mine as I gently massaged her bare breasts.
Where did it all come from? Perhaps from other actions or desires or maybe just a little shot of electro-chemical stuff hits the brain at exactly at the right or wrong time. I had pinned it down to the time I was fifteen and saw my older brother Bobby kiss my mother. I thought she had kissed him for a second too long. Maybe I just imagined that it went on for too long; after all, she kissed me on the lips often and it was no big deal. Maybe I had wanted her for a long time before and never let it come into my consciousness. Maybe she was sleeping with him. Maybe, maybe, maybe…but from then on my life took a different turn.
For the next few months, in my fantasies, I saw Bobby with my mother. He would strip her then he would suck on her nipples as she stood obediently before him. She always followed his orders. He screamed at her and called her names. Most of the fantasies were rough and I realized later that they were spawned by my anger and frustration. Robby would tie my mother to a chair and blindfold her. He would pinch her nipples until she screamed and almost choke her with his cock. She would beg him to stop but there was no mercy for her in this dark play; he was relentless. He would fuck my poor mother until she couldn't stand and then he would come on her.
It took me a while to realize that my brother was only a stand-in for me and when I allowed myself to be the imagined participant, the expression of my erotic fabrications became gentler. I couldn't hurt her, even in imaginings. I wanted to love her. I wanted her to love me.
I thought I had concealed my thoughts and feelings pretty well and that mom never knew how I felt, until that day of course. Bobby had moved out of the house and I wasn't sorry to see him go. Although things had gotten better between Bobby and me but I still hadn't forgotten all the punches and taunts of "Momma's boy" he had let me have when we were younger.
I was nineteen and in my third year of college. I had picked a school near home. Since Bobby left, my mother and I had had gotten even closer than we were before. I liked talking to her and we spent lots of nights together watching videos.
On that particular morning, mom was sitting at the table in the kitchen and was wearing a light cotton print dress. It was long but low cut and showed enough of her cleavage to get me going. When she saw me she said, "Oh hi sweetie, could you do something for me? I must have slept badly and my neck's killing me; just rub it for a while." I stood behind her and started massaging her shoulders and neck.
I think the best way to describe my mother is 'cute'. She later told me she always wanted to be 'beautiful and mysterious' but that no matter what she did everyone always told her she was cute. It's as if someone had a carrot growing out of his head. When you look at him you say, "there's a carrot." When you look at my mother you say "she's cute". That's probably one of the reasons she still looked like a kid approaching forty. My mother also had "It". The "It" that Monroe had to make men come to attention, the "It" Elvis had to make all the women wet when he picked up a guitar.
On the day I was massaging her neck and the world changed, she had never looked sexier to me. If I would have thought about it I never would have done it - but I didn't think. I just slid my hands down over both of her breasts, all the way to her nipples where I lingered for a moment. She didn't jump or scream. What she did was take a deep breath and say, "Honey, I don't know if you should be doing that." I returned my hands to her neck and kept massaging.
I took off on one my porno fantasies. Mom is on her knees. Bobby and I stand at her face with our big cocks ready…waiting…and hoping she knows what we want and how to do it. She doesn't disappoint us on either score. She starts by alternating on our cocks, sucking on each one for only five or ten seconds.
At one point she tries to get both fat heads into her mouth but has to be satisfied just licking them simultaneously. We can see how hot she's getting. Bobby takes the lead and tells her, "Mom get on the bed…we're going to fuck you from here to Timbuktu." She doesn't hesitate. She gets on the bed and spreads her legs. Bobby almost knocks me over getting on top of her. Foreplay lasts as long as it takes him to grab his cock and sink it into her wet pussy. He pulls her over on top of himself. I just look at my mother's round meaty globes. Bobby says, "C'mon Rick, fuck her in the ass."
I'm not sure if I should but I'm sure I want to. I want to ram it in her ass for screwing Bobby and not me; I want to pound her for turning me on all the time, and most of all, I need to.
I put a couple of fingers in as I play with her tits. Her ass grinding tells me how much she likes what I'm doing and I'm ready. My cock is as thick and hard as an iron rod and I expect her to scream but she takes it with an exclamation of "Oh…OH…" I thrust in and out completely at first, watching her react. She relaxes and her asshole is stretched and waiting for the next insertion. I oblige with a deep and forceful injection of my meat. When I get far enough into my mother's ass to see three quarters of my cock disappear, I start pumping her. Bobby resumes his upward thrusts. As we both give it to her, with only a thin membrane separating the two big dicks, she keeps repeating how good it is to be filled with us.
We're both getting closer and when we pick up the action and both pound her at once she goes nuts. She thrashes and laughs and keeps up a steady stream of talk. "Yes…fuck me, fuck me…this is what I've been dreaming about for years…my two boys fucking me…my two big cocks in their mother at the same time…in my cunt…in my ass…oooh yes…this is what you're whore of a mother needs…this is what your slut mother needs…to get fucked by her sons…fucked by her sons…over and over again…OH…I don't care who knows it …my boys are fucking me and I love it…"
I came back to the reality of having just touched her breasts with a hard-on from the fantasy and I'm emboldened to ask her the question I had been holding on to for four years, "Mom did bobby ever touch you that way?" She turned and gave me a hesitant, quizzical smile, "Of course not honey; why would you ask?"
My mother didn't lie; in fact, the main reason she got a divorce was because my lousy father couldn't do anything but lie and cheat. So there it was. My whole fantasy was built on a misperception, or would I have gotten to these feelings anyway?
I was elated and felt like a weight was lifted. I loved her so much at that moment; I turned her in the chair and start kissing her all over her face. She was laughing and she said, "Ricky, what's gotten in to you today?"
"I love you mom…I love you." That's what I said to her even though she was looking at me as if I'd gone off the deep end, and of course, I had.
