LIVING WITH MOTHER
After my divorce, I had to move back in with my mother. I knew that would be a bit awkward. But it ended up bringing us together in a whole new way.
My name's Ronnie. I'm a 30-year-old guy who hasn't lived with his mother since I was 18. She's 50 now, but easily looks ten years younger. My father, Rudy, passed away several years ago, but thanks to insurance and investments, my mother, Rose, is comfortable and semi-retired. Although she would never admit it, she seemed to be a bit lonely and appreciated my company. I had always gotten along well with her, and it seemed even easier now that I was an adult.
During our first few days living together, I was thankful that she did not revert to treating me like a child. She seemed to regard me more like a partner. That was doubly refreshing since I had not received that kind of respect from my ex-wife. Mom liked to cook and insisted on having a sit-down dinner most evenings if we were both available. That was fine with me. I liked having a good meal and adult conversation now and then. I knew she habitually had trouble sleeping, so I used that to start some dinner time talk. She was in good health, but I still worried about her. She had already slipped and called me by my father's name a couple of times. I didn't read anything into that. I've seen it happen with people who are far younger than her. And she is clearly in complete control of her faculties.
"How are you sleeping these days?" I asked.
"Better," she responded. "My doctor prescribed some pills. I'm not sure how I like them yet. But he said it might take a few weeks for me to get used to them."
"No side effects?"
She hesitated before answering, "I don't think so. Except maybe some sleepwalking. But since I've been here alone, I'm not sure."
"I remember you sleepwalking a bit when I was a kid."
"Yes," she admitted. "It wasn't common. But these pills might have brought it back. As long as I don't leave the house, I don't think it will be too much of a problem. I've never done anything damaging."
"I'll keep an eye out for you at night."
"Thanks," she stated. "But remember what they say. You're not supposed to wake a sleepwalker. Just let them do whatever they're doing unless it's a danger to themselves or others."
"Okay. But if you do anything crazy, I might make a video of you to post on the internet."
She laughed and waved it off. But I was not entirely kidding. I was kind of interested to see what she might get up to.
For the next few days, she didn't get up to anything. As far as I could tell, she slept soundly through the night. I didn't see her wandering about the house in a daze. That might be because I slept soundly in my room every night. But Friday night, that changed dramatically.
I was awakened when the door to my room opened. My mother walked in, wearing her thin nightgown. Framed in the doorway with light from the hall behind her, I could see a complete outline of her body. I shook my head to clear that thought out of my mind and asked her what she wanted. When she spoke, she called me by my father's name again, addressing me as Rudy.
"Oh Rudy," she said a big sadly. "What are you doing in here? I wasn't angry with you. Just a little irritated. You know how I get sometimes."
Then she just stood there staring. Her eyes were unfocused, and she seemed to be looking past me or through me. I suspected she was sleepwalking and expected her to turn around and go back to bed. But instead, she did something completely unexpected. She reached down, grasped the hem of her gown and pulled it up over her head, letting it fall to the floor behind her.
My mother stood there naked before me. And I have to admit, she looked very good for a 50-year-old. I knew she kept in shape with daily walks, yoga, and Pilates. But her body was impressive. Taut stomach and backside. Smooth thighs. And, the only part of her body that had any sag were her breasts, mostly due to their size. I don't know her measurements, but her boobs were large and heavy with thick nipples and dark areolas. Again, she just stood there for a while as I pondered what to do. You're not supposed to wake a sleepwalker. And If I did, she would be terribly embarrassed. So, I waited, hoping she would just go back to bed. But she didn't. Not right away.
She lifted the covers and slipped into bed beside me, pushing her body against mine, and slid her hand down to my thigh.
"Oh Rudy, I don't want to fuss. Can't we just make up like we always do?"
Her hand gripped my testicles and gently massaged them. In spite of myself I felt my cock getting hard. I wasn't sure what to do. She had such a firm grip on my balls, and I hadn't had any sexual attention from another person for two or three months. I know that shouldn't be an excuse in this situation, but my body was taking over from my brain.
Her hand moved from my balls to my cock.
"Mmmmm, you seem even bigger than usual," she trilled. "Looks like you're ready to make up too." Without saying another word, she pulled back the covers, moved down to my crotch and took my cock in her mouth.
I gasped loudly, feeling the warm wetness of her lips and tongue on my shaft. That might have been the moment when I gave in to the situation or at least pushed my inhibitions to the back of my mind.
She slowly massaged my balls with one hand, stroked my shaft with the other, and sucked with her mouth. It felt so good. Apparently my mother gives fantastic head. She kept her actions slow and gentle, like she didn't want me to finish too soon. And she clearly had other activities in mind.
Still grasping my shaft, she pulled her mouth away and swung her leg over me. Her eyes were closed now as she lined up my cock and lowered herself onto me. My cock slid into my mother's pussy, and it was the most glorious thing I had felt in a long time. Once she had taken me all, she leaned forward, and hugged me close. Her great breasts pressed against my chest, and her face nestled against my neck. She didn't speak but the noises she made were so hot, I had a hard time holding back.
Holding me tight, she started moving her hips up and down against me. Slowly at first, then faster. Her breathing became ragged as she brought herself closer.
"Oh God. Oh yes. Oh Rudy," she whispered in my ear as she pumped faster. Soon she was there. She buried her mouth against my neck and screamed. Her muffled cries matched the tremors of her body as her orgasm washed over her. I loved holding her and feeling her cum. I never considered that I would feel anything like this with my own mother, but it was beautiful.
"That was great," she panted. "But I don't think I'm done."
She lifted herself a bit, placing her hands on my shoulders, and began pumping her hips again. Now I could see her breasts bouncing with each movement of her body. I completely forgot that this beautiful woman was my mother and just watched her in awe. Her face tilted up and she moaned quietly, almost sadly. She moved faster, slamming her body against mine until she let out a great sexy grunt and stopped moving. After a moment, she shivered as waves of orgasmic pleasure rippled through her body. Then she collapsed on top of me. But not for long.
"God that was good," she said moving off me and sliding between my legs, "But now it's your turn."
Now she started in on a serious blowjob. This time she wasn't holding back. She massaged my balls, stroked my cock, and sucked me like a vacuum cleaner. It felt so good, I knew I wouldn't last long. And, that seemed to be what she wanted. I tried to warn her that I was about to cum, but she just stroked faster and sucked harder. Then I shot my load down my mother's throat. The sounds she made when my cum hit the back of her throat made it seem like she had another small orgasm of her own. She pumped my shaft until she had every drop. When she finally pulled away and gently released me, she just said, "Ahhhh."
Mom sat there looking through me for a few moments before she got up and slid her gown back on. As she left the room she said, "I'm going to bed now, Rudy. You can join me when you're ready." Then she went out and closed the door behind her.
I started to think about what had just happened, but before I got too far, my brain slipped into a post-coital coma and I was asleep.
The next morning, I faced the conundrum. Should I tell Mom what happened? Would she be horrified? Would it ruin our relationship? I debated with myself a lot before venturing out of my room. I would find out how much she remembered about last night and then decide how to proceed.
I found Mom in the kitchen sipping her morning coffee. I filled a mug of my own and joined her at the table. We often chatted in the mornings before going our separate ways for the rest of the day. So, I started a conversation to see what she remembered about the previous night.
"So, how are those sleeping pills working out for you?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment then said, "Alright I suppose. From the moment I went to sleep last night until I woke up this morning, I don't really remember anything. So, I guess I slept alright. But somehow, I still feel tired. Like I was up half the night."
"Well, maybe you're just not used to the pills yet," I said sipping my coffee.
"Yes, I'm sure it will get better," she agreed. Then she got this far-away look in her eyes and said, "I do remember having the most wonderful dream about your father, though."
I was briefly worried, and asked cautiously, "What were you doing in this dream?"
She continued with that dreamy, far-away look for a moment, then said, "Oh... just... things we used to do. It was nice." She got up to refill her coffee and the conversation went another direction.
I felt I was safe. Any memory she had of the night before would be attributed to the "dream." I still felt conflicted about the whole incident, but I convinced myself it was a one-time thing, and it would never happen again. But it did happen again. Exactly a week after the first time.
