So here we have my 50th entry to Literotica and perhaps the final chapter of my proudest achievement. I hope you've enjoyed the story of John and Carrie - perhaps more will be told in time. Thanks for all your lovely comments and helpful critiques along the way. I hope you will share your thoughts on this entry as well...as it is your feedback that serves as my greatest inspiration. Enjoy!
Of course, all the usual mutterings about this being a work of fiction and all characters existing only within the confines of my mind.
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I woke to find it was early morning, the light of dawn creeping into our bedroom, filling it with shadow. It had stormed during the night and I could still hear water dripping from the trees -- a pleasing sound to listen to as I stretched luxuriously in our bed. Then as I woke further, I realized why I had awoken so early to begin with.
Mom's hand gently caressed my chest and stomach and in the shadowy light, I saw her face, resting on my shoulder, looking up at me, a sleepy and naughty smile on her face. She cuddled closer, her naked body warm and inviting against my skin. "I was hoping you would wake up, John," she whispered before moving up to kiss me, her heavy breast dragging across my chest as her lips met mine and we kissed.
For thirteen years now, a day hadn't passed that we hadn't kissed each other upon rising in the morning. Each kiss was like the first -- a taste of heaven. As we kissed, Mom's hand drifted further south, sliding through my wiry pubic hair to finally encircle my rapidly swelling cock. With a mother's tenderness and a lover's need, Mom stroked me, masturbating me into a throbbing cockstand while our tongues danced and played.
When I was fully erect, Mom ended the kiss and rose up lithely onto her knees and quickly swung a shapely leg over my body to straddle me -- my cock standing proudly, just brushing the thick mass of her hairy muff, heat and moisture radiating from her already swollen and spread pussy lips. Mom grinned down at me as I said, "I know why you woke me up."
Mom slowly slid down, her cunt expertly capturing the head of my swollen penis and I groaned as I felt her velvet lips massaging my tender flesh -- her pussy clasping hungrily to take me inside her and replied, "Any complaints, son?"
I could only shake my head now as I relished the sweet sensation of my mother and wife slowly enveloping my cock in her wet and fiery cunt. In an idle part of my mind, I wondered how many times we had done this over the years that we'd been married -- one of us waking up with a passionate desire for the other. Of course, the number didn't matter. All that was important was that each time was as good or better than the first time -- that our uniquely intimate bond as both mother and son and husband and wife transported us to a place close to heaven whenever we made love.
As the dawn progressed, the room became lighter as Mom slowly rode me, her face lovely, transfixed in an expression that conveyed both great love and lust. I marveled at how with each passing day and year, Mom simply seemed to grow more beautiful.
Mom's age of fifty-seven did not betray itself easily. Her luscious body, always on the border of voluptuousness, somehow seemed to almost immune to wrinkles and while there was definitely a little more sag to her huge breasts, the way they sloped down on her chest seemed to add to her beauty, their pendulous form evoking thoughts of an earthy goddess of fertility. Mom's nipples, huge to begin with and thickened from nursing, were swollen with her lust, begging to be squeezed and sucked. Her thighs grow a little meatier with each passing year, but long hikes up and down the hillsides of our home, keep her legs shapely and muscular and there are few sweeter pleasures than feeling Mom's legs wrapped around me as we make love or simply fuck in heated, incestuous passion.
Mom's great mane of hair is in some ways, the great betrayer of her age. Through most of our marriage, Mom has let it grow until it hung far down her back, sometimes flowing freely around her like an erotic veil, like this morning, the very tips brushing my skin when she leaned forward and down to kiss me as she rode my cock and sometimes tied up in a long ponytail or braided. But the deep, rich blackness of Mom's hair has gradually given way to a wondrous shade of gray -- itself going whiter with each passing year. It doesn't actually make her look older, but gives her an incredibly sensuous look that again evoked an earthy goddess.
On this particular morning, Mom and I took our time -- savoring the pure deliciousness of slowly fucking -- of our bodies meshing and becoming as one as Mom's sugar walls tightened around my cock, massaging my flesh slowly, her slick juices surrounding me with a heavenly warmth that gradually took me closer and closer to ecstasy.
Mom sighed as she came the first time, leaning forward so her hands were clenching the old brass rail headboard while her breasts swayed and brushed my face, my tongue darting out to tease her swollen nipples. Mom's cries of pleasure were so familiar and yet always a marvel to me -- reminding me once again of my good fortune to have my mother as my lover and mate.
As Mom reached her second orgasm of the morning, I began thrusting back, meeting her downward motion to bury myself as deep into her sweet womb as I could. Mom fell forward on top of me as she whimpered in the throes of her welling climax, pressing her face against my neck as her soft, meaty tits pillowed against my chest, our joined loins working hard until I too was cumming, thrusting hard and deep into Mom's cunt as I gave her my hot seed.
Our sweaty bodies cooled quickly in the cool morning air, making us shiver a bit as we kissed and whispered tender things to each other. I reached out with a hand and found the light quilt we'd been using as a blanket, one of Mama Polly's old handmade quilts and tugged it over our quivering bodies. Still joined together, we kissed and dozed for a good while, just savoring the joy and love we shared.
In the midst of a sleepy kiss, I heard the downstairs kitchen door open and close, followed by footsteps down the back steps. I opened my eyes and looked at Mom inquiringly.
The serene look that she usually had after making love transformed into a sad smile and she said softly, "Molly."
Comprehension come quickly then and I said, "Today's the day, isn't it?"
Mom nodded, her gaze suddenly a little distant and her smile growing sadder. "Yes. Hard to believe it's been five years."
There was little to say after that and then as we heard the kids stirring about, we reluctantly slipped apart and began our day. By the time Polly and Tommy had finished in the bathroom and were dressed for school, Mom had breakfast cooking and I'd hiked down to the road to retrieve the morning paper. Breakfast was as always, a boisterous affair of chatter, eating, and last minute and allegedly forgotten homework.
Polly, Mom's and my daughter was at age thirteen was already turning into the beautiful, young woman we always knew she would be. Tall and awkward for her age, blonde haired and eager to take on the world, she and Mom reviewed her words for a big spelling test coming that day and I watched proudly as she rattled off each word correctly.
Tommy, the son I had fathered with Molly, was short, dark haired and serious, trying to cope with the trials and tribulations of running smack dab into puberty. We spent most of breakfast commiserating on the lackluster seasons of our favorite baseball teams, neither of which was going to be playing in the post-season, their year done now that October was here. Tommy tried to pin me down on the chances of going up to Cincinnati when the Cubs came to play next April and I just played coy, not wanting to tell him I had already looked up next year's schedule to plan that trip.
