"Ohhh... oh BABY, oh SWEETIE... YEESSSSSS... Oh, eat Mommy, eat Mommy's cunt..." She grabbed my hair and ground my face hard into her salt-and-pepper bush, this magnificent woman, 25 years older than me at 25, her pussy slick and hot with juices now coating my face. I fucked her with my erect tongue, brushing her clit and making her spasm under me. She answered with staccato gasps timed to each stroke.
I cupped my hands under her 50-year-old ass and ground my face into her like I wanted in, and she urged me on, now with coos and babytalk, now with the foulest commands. I rubbed her clit with my spread tongue like it was sandpaper, and slurped her lubrication out of her. I was possessed. The thought of eating out my own mother made me feral.
She finally let herself go -- my God, she rode her come wave better than any woman I'd ever fucked -- and her orgasm came crashing down on both of us. She yelped and "oh"ed and kept spurring me on. "OH. OH. MOMMY'S COMING, BABY..." As I finally removed my face I saw her yanking on her nipples, and she began to stomp her feet. She sprang up, still coming, and shoved me down on my back. I was surprised and delighted, but I must have momentarily looked horrified. Her eyes became slits and she said, "what did you DO to Mommy?" She flopped on top of me and tried to swallow my mouth; we began to grind our crotches together. She'd just come, and I was probably as wet as she was.
We were humping one another and making out hungrily. "I taste... Mommy's pussy... on your face... baby," she said as our tongues slurped and our lips sucked. I sighed, and shuddered. She moved down to my breast and engulfed it, it seemed like all of it, her tongue raking my nipple and sending electric shocks through me. Her hand had found my pussy and was whipping my clit. My hand found my other tit. She slid downward, tonguing my belly, then spread my legs (wider) forcibly, and got busy. I almost fainted on the spot. I was consumed, simply possessed by the idea of my own mother eating me out. Her grey-flecked hair shook and I entwined my fingers in it, kneading, sighing, "oh, MOM..."
After I'd come, harder than I ever have, I was sure of it, I felt like I was made of lead. But I rose with effort into a sitting position, and she sprung up too and stroked my face. So lovingly. I beamed and smiled. "You're something else," she said.
"That was amazing," I said dumbly. I mean, it was, but I think several dozen points of my IQ had just been fucked out of me.
Now my goddess padded into the bathroom to clean up. "Your name is Rachel, right?" she asked over the running faucet. I said yes. That deflated me a little, but only a little. I'd very uncharacteristically answered an ad on Craigslist from someone -- this awesome, hellacious, 50 year old bundle of sex, as it turned out -- offering to play Mommy to a young woman. I'd been conscious of every possible way our meeting could be unsafe -- we'd met in public two days ago, we met in public again today at Starbucks and had driven here together in my car -- and once I could finally relax and play I'd been treated to the most amazing roleplay ever. Her not being quite sure of my name was a little jarring.
"Is your last name Banks?" My brow furrowed and I frowned. There must be something with my name on it showing somewhere in my apartment. "That's right."
She said "huh!" in that way people do when they think something is kind of amusing. I went into the bathroom with her as she cleaned up, and said "why?"
She turned to me with a devilish smirk and said, "I know your mother, Wendy." My eyes got wide as saucers.
My roleplay mom explained that she'd known Wendy, my full time mom, for 20 years, I guess since we moved to the area. I wondered aloud why I'd never met her before, and she grinned wickedly, reminding me that we had, but it was when I was a little girl. She'd babysat for me, of all people, a few times when mom had doctor's appointments or other errands. I didn't remember her, even with that to prompt me. When I was eight we moved into a bigger house a few miles away and she and my mom had kept in touch.
I didn't really know what to make of any of this -- was it sexy or disturbing that I'd just had wild monkey sex with my old babysitter? -- but I didn't really have time to dwell on it. My roleplay mom was getting dressed when she said, "have you ever tried to have sex with your mom? I mean, for real?"
I know I probably turned beet red, and I was thinking that just 10 minutes ago I'd been in the throes of an orgasm the likes of which I'd never felt, and now she was going to ruin it all by getting all real life on me. Strange thought, yes, but if you've handled this same situation differently, I'd love to hear how.
She could see she'd upset me, and she knelt beside me (I was sitting on the -- closed -- toilet seat). She stroked my face again, and despite myself I looked longingly at her now bra-clad boobs. "Rachel, baby, it's nothing to be embarrassed about," she assured me. She smiled, and kept dressing. "Let's just say that the ad you responded to wasn't the first I'd placed. I've... done this before," she said coyly. "You would be AMAZED at how many women your age, younger, and even five, 10-some years older, have the kind of fantasies you do." I thought about that with a grumpy look on my face.
"That's why I LOVE doing this," she explained, trying to tame her JBF hair in the bathroom mirror. "I'm 50 years old. Everything you've heard about how hard it is for older women to get lucky is true." She flashed a wicked smile. "But tell women half your age you're willing to play Mommy..."
"So do you have any kids?" I asked. I was still stinging a little from the question about whether I'd ever had sex with my mom. Let's see her walk the walk.
She looked like she would burst. "I do have a daughter," she said, measuredly, though she was grinning ear to ear now. "She's older than you by about five years. When I'd watch you her dad was still around, so she'd stay with him. I don't think you've ever met her." I shook my head. Of course, I didn't remember meeting Tanya -- that was her name, my roleplay mom -- either.
She tilted her head toward the bathroom door, and we walked out and through my apartment, toward the door. "Ever do anything with her?" I asked.
She whirled around and looked me in the eye. "As a matter of fact," she said, smirking. "Yvonne was married for a few months," she explained, "and after it ended she decided she liked women. It was a little more involved than that, of course. To this day I don't know if her marriage ended because she decided she was gay or if she decided she was gay because her marriage didn't work out."
She grabbed my hands and we sat down together on my couch. "I don't know how long Craigslist has been around, but neither of us had certainly heard of it back then. And because my Yvonne was shy and couldn't make herself to go socialize with strangers, she was having a terrible time. We had frank talks about it, and finally, I offered to help her explore her new feelings in a safe way."
I think by then my mouth was open and I was breathing through it, but she was such a doll, she didn't say anything. "It started out sort of... clinical. This is how you should caress a woman. This is how you should kiss. This is what you should and shouldn't do to her breasts." Now I'm sure I was flushed and panting. "After a few hours, though, we realized we weren't having a dry how-to talk anymore." She winked at me.