I was awake when Sister (as we called her) backed out of the driveway and headed for work Monday morning. I lay there thinking about the Selective Service letter, my job, my friends, and a few other things but primarily my mom and how me leaving for two years to God-knows-where would adversely influence our newfound relationship.
Dad closing the garage door to leave diverted my thoughts, and promptly after, I detected the shower running in the master bathroom. Mom was not necessarily a shower person; rather, she relished the lengthy, warm immersion in the tub, and that routinely occurred in the evening before watching Johnny Carson on TV; however, I was a contented recipient of her recent morning showers.
When the shower stopped, I rolled out of bed without hesitation, walked down the hallway, and stood next to her bathroom door. I reached down to move my already flourishing erection, positioning it upward so that the head of my cock peaked over my brief's elastic waistband. Show-off, I thought. Such vanity for a six-incher.
The bathroom door opened, and, with a towel wrapped around her, Mom's eyes examined me. I reached for her, pulled her into my arms, and kissed her the way that she had last kissed me in the kitchen. Mom did not move when I dropped to my knees on the hall carpet, lifted the towel, and kissed her thighs, tonguing them in the manner as the French kissing that Mom and I had done Saturday. She let me, and that was what I hoped would happen.
The attention that I was giving Mom's legs made me appreciate that they were firmer, more muscular than I had previously realized. I kept kissing, licking, inching upward until I reached her protruding bush, kissing it from one side and moving over her mound to the other. It was evident that she had neatly trimmed, but not shaved, and by my youthful olfactory senses, it was apparent that her feminine hygiene habits were impeccable.
"More of this here or would you prefer the bed?" I asked, looking up. Mom's answer was a raised arm and a finger pointed toward my room. Rising to stand, my attention was directed to kissing her on the back of the neck and ears as we stepped toward my bedroom, I followed her to the bed. All doubt was erased about any question of pleasing Mom orally. Her towel had dropped to the floor before we were close to the bed. She lay down first as I threw my briefs into the corner.
Before I could get on the bed, Mom's legs were already slightly opened, left leg bent at the knee. My hand partially covered her bush, which served as a beacon to guide my lips to her pussy. I started at her knees, slowly moving up kissing her thighs, then inching up, kissing and licking all around the prominent knoll that highlighted her pubic region. I placed my hand under her left thigh and raised it a little more, causing her legs to spread farther apart. Mom did the same with her right hand under her right thigh, spreading for my pleasure and hers. My bush kissing continued.
"Kiss me there, Sweetie. Lick it," she muttered. Her words ushered my lips to her passion slit as skillfully as a spaceship docking maneuver. "You are so grown up."
I wanted to do this, and Mom welcomed it. My tongue slowly entered her kitty, tasting her wetness, playing with and touching every fold of her vagina. Her reactions consisted of repeating several "Eat Mommy's pussy. So good. Suck it. Lick it." My enthusiasm could only be surpassed by my lack of experience, and any pleasure that my mom derived from oral lovemaking can be attributed only to her wanton hunger for this type of sexual intercourse and my eagerness to please her. I loved it.
Mom's feet moved around me, and her heels clenched the back of my shoulder blades. I did not commonly use the word "clitoris" back then, but as I reflect on my first cunnilingus experience, my tongue's excursion encountered an erect clit, and its size made it easy to find.
After only a couple of minutes of sucking her clit, continuing my intermittent tongue action, at least two waves of orgasm were produced from Mom's soft verbal and obvious physical reaction.
"Oh fuck," she murmured. I moved up, kissing her navel, nipples, neck, and lips. Then back down to her clit, spending more time tonguing her soaked pussy. When I kissed my way back up to her lips, Mom had no compunction about tasting my tongue and lips, still saturated with her sex juices. She returned my kisses two-fold and made sure that I countered.
With my knee between her legs pressed casually against her sweetness, I moved Mom's hand to my cock and asked, "You want this or more pussy eating?" while sliding my tongue between her lips.
"Both. I want both, my sweet man. I know you want more. I've already cum twice and still want more. This is too good, but please, no wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, please. I get that every Sunday afternoon. We need more time, but work is waiting. Take off work tomorrow. All day. You're leaving anyway, and I can take off anytime I want except Mondays. I want more than a quickie, and I want you to give it to me."
Scooting to the side of the bed, now standing, she palmed my cock, rubbing it with one hand, her other hand rubbing her pussy. "Here, let me take care of this now, let me please you, relieve you, then tomorrow, your going-away gift, a surprise."
"Mom, I love surprises. Give me a hint. One clue," I implored.
"Okay, one: Me on top" were the last words that I heard from her that morning.
A minute's worth of strokes, maybe two minutes, but what seemed like a moment, Mom's handjob emptied my balls, then she planted two kisses directly on the cum-covered head of my rod. Her speedy exit to the bathroom followed, but not before she retrieved the towel discarded earlier and slung it on my bed.
When I finished in my bathroom, Mom was well on her way to work but left me coffee in the pot. Most, in my shoes, would experience disappointment about that morning. I loved her and was not disappointed in any way. Besides, tomorrow would be the surprise that she promised, and rushing her was never an option in my mind.
Any concern about my job at this point was nonexistent, but I knew that she was dedicated to hers because she co-owned and managed the small business. Mom's Mondays were hectic, and Dad would bring home takeout to, in small part, account for that.
Day after tomorrow I would be on my way to the induction center, and then what I had heard was a different life. Approaching my boss, a Marine combat veteran, to give him a short notice, he did not care that I was a few minutes late.
