Mothers Advise & Contest

Beverly sat naked on the sofa of her small retirement apartment on the third floor. In deep thought her blank stare was focused on a small, original, half full, Coke bottle in her left hand. Breaking her concentration, holding the bottle with thumb and two fingers, she placed the still chilled bottle between her spread thighs, then, repositioned her hand to press it a against her pussy. Feeling the pleasurable coolness she continued her thoughts on why the evening had ended as it did.

She had to start a ways back before she retired and moved to the South to be near her son and his family. The jealousy she had felt for her son begun shortly after a boyfriend fell to his death 20 years earlier. She hated every girl that George had ever dated, but felt a special animosity towards the two girls she had accidentally caught him screwing in her bed. Both times, arriving home early, she remembered vividly watching them, watching him, long minutes screwing passionately, before intervening, cursing and condemning them both.

Afterward , for years, she never let him forget his indiscretions and taunted him with sexual accusations and innuendos. Also, neglecting her dress, she started appearing scantly clad, around him - a few times bra-less. She could never admitted to herself her newly acquired incestuous desires for him, nor thought about acting on them. That is, until she retired and moved south.

He had been married 10 years when she had taken up residence in the high-rise apartment just 20 minutes from his home. In no time at all, she had set up a schedule with him to shop, have breakfast out or cook for him, at least once a week. She made up items in the apartment that only he could take care of, and she knew he could only do after work at night. Those evening around him, watching him as he did things for her, brought out the devil in her.

It had not been long before he had begun to complain about his sex life - the lack of. It benefited her cause to renew her old habit of accusations and sexual innuendos. The bitch in apartment 1-C became a favorite target in accusing him of indiscretions, but sympathizing with his lack of satisfaction at home.

She smiled to herself, remembering the fact that she had always been able to maintain an air of innocence, that she was only interested in his well-being, only taking his side against his wife because he was so sexually unhappy. He voiced total faithfulness, but it had not stopped her from taunting him, reminding him his wife was the cause of his wanton desires -- that she made up. She openly challenged his commitment to faithfulness.

After taking a long drink of Coke, she breathed a sigh of distress, remembering the afternoon - two hours earlier -- 20 minutes ago.

He had simply dressed and walked out, leaving her laying on the bed naked. Through oral stimulation he had brought her to a very memorable orgasm. She could not remember ever having one stronger. After his abrupt leaving, she first felt disbelief, then, relief, ending in, anguish, inwardly admitting that she had indeed dressed appealingly for him, had actually openly admitted it to him. She had berated him for accusing her of dressing for the men in the apartment complex. Then, surprising her, he had admitted she was a sensuous and attractive woman -- more so when she was dressed to kill but still barefoot around the apartment - his type - and did indeed appreciate her effort, if it was indeed for him. Adding, he hated the way men eyed her.

Standing in front of him as he did the work requested, the screwdriver slipped and she had teasingly accused him of being a bad screw-er.

His reply, "put a little hair around this and I could screw it better", had actually embarrassed her and she disappeared into the small kitchen for a few moments. She had inwardly awarded herself for her brazen remark and cleverness for getting a lewd response.

She remembered an earlier time when she had asked him was he coming and he had answered, "no just breathing hard". She had asked him what he had said and he had only muttered a reply going pass her out the door.

When she had returned to watch him, he had surprised her by asking her if she padded her bra to make her breast look bigger, adding, that while it was very sexy and arousing, the sweater must be uncomfortably warm in the apartment. The question hit her wrong and she voiced indignation. Again she recovered, assuring him in a seductive tone that they were very real.

Again, annoying her to no end, she felt embarrassment and turned toward the stove, pretending to do something. Her body had stiffened, annoyance had surged, not at him but at herself, as she felt him close behind her, reaching to palm her breasts, telling her, "I don't know if I should believe you are not. Do you mind if I put my mind at ease?".

She had rallied! Her seduction was coming about! She had to keep the ball rolling. She had offered to remove her sweater to give him a good unobstructed look and he had helped her remove it, turning her. After toying with her bra covered breast for a long minute, he had asked her not to be shy. She had unclasped her bra, removing it too.

"They are still as lovely as I remember. I've always missed your teasing after Stan's accident. Things were different back then. I understand why you were reluctant."

When she had asked how so, she remembered her body quivering when he answered, "I had a vasectomy three years ago. If you were to allow me to screw you, there would be no worry of complications now. I think you wanted me to screw back then but were afraid. Do you - want me to screw you?"

She had not answered the question when he lowered his head to take her left nipple into his mouth. She was not going to answer his question, though her right hand wrapped around the back of his head and pulled it to her breast. She needed to maintain deniable culpability. After all, mothers did not allow sons to take such liberties. In time, She had not resisted his efforts to unzip her tight fitting skirt and push it off her hips, though her hand, at first, interfered with his efforts. As he continued to ravish her breast, when the skirt dropped, she kicked it free, leaving her wearing only her panties.

As he palmed his right hand between her legs, she queried, pertaining to nothing. "can I see it?".

After taking her last drink of Coke, she smiled, remembering him stepping away from her, unbuckling his pants, dropping them, stepping out of them, dropping his briefs, stepping out of them and kicking them free. Her eyebrows lifted as she remembered, visualizing his cock. She put the mouth of the bottle to her pussy, inserting a good two inches, stroking slowly.

I had let him strip me of my panties -- my last vestige of dignity! In the haughty venue of the tiny kitchenette, by the stark illumination of the 100w light bulb over head, he kissed me all over. Turning me, he kissed my ass, telling me it's what I wanted every man to do. I did, of course, but my intent was not meant to be so sensuously, like he was doing. Turning me again, he had put his nose into my bush, kissed my inter-thighs. Then, I had let him lead me by the hand to the bedroom. Why had he not stuck his cock in me right there against the stove, a wall, or, placed me on the table or the sofa and screwed me? It's what I had wanted!

Beverly pulled the Coke bottle from her. She walked to the bathroom, stepped into the shower and adjusted the water. Standing under the stinging hot spray she tried to make sense of what had happened.

Instead, George had placed his hands on her hips, standing behind her, and had guided her to the semi-dark bedroom, onto the bed, onto her back. He had not removed any more his clothing. All the while she focused on his firm, thick and lengthy erection, desiring it. He had moved to the foot of the bed, dropped to his chest onto the bed and positioned her stance.

Oral sex was not unfamiliar to her though she had rarely got enough of it. She could have quite naturally and voluntarily spread her legs, pulling her knees back, knowing exactly what her son was going to, but she waited for him to position her.

The touch of his lips to the inside of her thighs was immensely pleasurable, the electric shock of his tongue touching her pussy was like magic and the involuntary intake of breath and moan told him so.

"George, your tongue s wonderful!" She had told him in earnest, but added. "But you should not be doing this! You need to stop." He had not!

Not only had he surprised her with his oral expertise, torturing her with his explorations of her vagina, ass and thighs, but expanded her horizons ten fold when he stuck her tongue into her treasure hole. Pushing her legs back, he had tongue fucked her, penetrating her as deeply as his tongue could achieve. Returning to her clit briefly, only to tongue fuck her more and numerous times. As all good things, it did not last long enough.

She had been boisterous in orgasm. Her body had lifted off the bed, had quaked, then, trembled as the orgasm gripped her long moments, then, slipped away, leaving her greatly satisfied and a bit exhausted. She was amazed, at her 63 years, that she could still achieve such a strong orgasm. She waited, and fully expected, to be mounted, penetrated and screwed passionately.

She ran the soapy washcloth between her legs, over her buttocks, and up the crack of her ass, pondering his final actions.

He had continued tonguing her clit with featherlight strokes and she had continued to pull lightly at his hair and ears.

"That must have been good!" He had queried, reluctantly withdrawing his tongue from her sopped wet vaginal crack.

"It was!" She had answered. "But should you be doing such naughty things to you mother -- against her voiced good judgment.?"

A short minute later, he had backed away from between her legs and stood from the bed. She had straightened her legs but kept the wide. The lights from the street and parking lot illuminated the small confines. The light sufficient, he had studied her lying naked, her pussy shadowed nicely and easily discernible, an embarrassing long minute, before turning and walking to the bathroom. She watched him from the bed rinse his mouth and wash his face. Toweling his face dry, he had walked back to the edge of the bed, his mostly erect cock near her face.

"You feel better?" He had asked.

"I feel wonderful but I'm embarrassed being butt-hole naked -- you studying me so intensely. You have not...... " She had started to inject, throwing all reason to the wind, reaching up to brush her fingers along his mostly erect shaft.

"I don't know if I can do that." He said cutting her off. "I need to think! I'm going to put my pants on and leave. We'll talk at a couple of days."

"I can at least!" She protested, now gripping his shaft.

"No, mother! That would be degrading." He had countered.

As she cut the water off, she thought. Her offer was to jerk him off. His cock so close to her mouth, had he thought she was offering to suck him. His use of the term "degrading" would appear so. In all honesty, she had to admit, she would have gladly sucked his cock long enough to get him aroused enough to mount her and stick it in her. She had released him when he had backed away from her. She had laid there until she heard the front door close with his departure.

"Damn it to Hell!" She had uttered in frustration.

She had reached for the bedside table drawer handle and retrieved a sizable red translucent dildo. Pulling her legs back, she gingerly inserted the thick 7" sympathetic cock into her, causing a slight pain, until the balls touched her vagina. She concentrated for long minutes on the feeling of the cool thick shaft inside of her, pushing on the balls to get every bit of the make-believe cock inside of her. She felt frustrated. She would wait for his call. What the hell was he thinking -- to go so far and then stop?

"GEORGE! FUCK! EASE UP A LITTLE! Fuck George! What's gotten into you!" Jean exclaimed, not in the passionate tones of a woman actively engaged in lustful sexual intercourse, but of a woman surprised at the intensity of the man inside her, hands clutching her ass, stabbing her relentlessly, pounding her ass into the bed.

"Move your ass, woman!! Fuck me back!" George exclaimed with resentment. "You haven't spread you legs for me in three weeks! What the hell do you expect!"

'And it might be a month before it happens again!' Jean thought frigidly.

The lack or regular pussy was only partly the reason for George's intensity and frustration with his wife and maybe reasonable that fantasizing about his mother, visualizing her thinly bushed, puffy mound and puffy lipped, with a singular, delicate crack, labia brought about his ejaculation. Fingering Jean to orgasm returned the two back to harmony.

For Beverly, the call had come much sooner than expected. He had not said hello or asked how she was doing. He had simply asked her did she felt like lunch and that he would pick her up in an hour. It was a short conversation.

They had had lunch at a truck stop about 30 minutes away from her apartment. In talking, she had discovered he had the whole afternoon off. That fact had been a minor remark, but her mind started to wander and speculate on what the afternoon held. Conversation was on general topics while they ate and on most of the ride home. It had irked her that her son had flirted with the waitress, but she had held her tongue, finally losing control not too many miles from her apartment.

"Do you know that little skinny ass waitress very well?" She had targeted.

"Do you mean, have I screwed her?" He had retorted. "I know her from the restaurant. I see her and know her no more than you do. And her ass is not that skinny!"

"You looked at it enough! It's skinny compared to mine or Jean's. Of course that bitch in 1-C has a hugh ass. Which begs the question, exactly what size ass DO you like?"

Instead of rolling to a parking spot, George pulled up in front of the apartment building entry doors.

"You said you had the whole afternoon off? Are you not coming up for a bit?" She had asked.

"Probably not a good idea." He had replied. "Don't want to argue and any mood it lost.

Desperation and anxiety quickly settled over her. She had to get him to come upstairs. Mood??

"So now you're mad?"

"I've gotten used to your jealousy, though I don't know why you are that way, especially after what I gave you the other day?" He accused.

"I was wondering when you were going to bring that up! I offered, you know! - to jerk you off -- not suck your cock! It sure as hell won't happen again! What! You going back to the restaurant now and get that little skinny ass bitch of a waitress to spread her legs for you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" He exclaimed rudely.

"What in the hell is wrong with you!" She shot back. "You strip a woman -- your mother - of her clothes. You know an orgasm is not the only thing a woman cares about or desires. You're a dumb ass! Go screw your waitress and leave me the hell alone!"

"We forgot to go to the grocery store and the pharmacy?"

"Just forget about it." She returned, opening the car door and getting out. "I can walk down this afternoon or we can go on our regular day next week." She slammed the door!

George sat frustrated for a few moments before putting the car in gear and turning sharply into a parking spot. He caught up with his mother at the elevator and reached around her to push the button. Neither spoke or looked at the other. He followed her the short distance down the hall and stood behind her as she unlocked the door. She dropped the door on him, causing him to catch it with his hand, irking him.

He made his way to the refrigerator and retrieved a small Coke. He walked to the sofa and sat down toward the left. In a few minutes, his mother retrieved her own Coke and sat down next to him on the sofa.

George studied her long minutes. She wore khaki shorts with a pink blouse, having kicked off her flats. Without any effort to hide his incestuous interest, his eyes wandered from her smooth slightly freckled legs to her chest, knowing intimately her breast were more than a handful with raisin sized nipples. He felt his cock twitch. He watched her take a long drink of her Coke, acknowledging his fondness for her short, curly strawberry blonde hair, inwardly smiling at the matching, thinning bush on her mound.

"I'm here! Are we going to talk, or what?" He asked.

She eyed him curiously, her chin tucked low, before setting her Coke down and slowly unbuttoning her blouse, keeping her eyes on his intense expression as he stared at her actions. Leaning forward, she removed it and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, removing it too. Settling back, she said nothing for a long minute.

"I should be ashamed for my forwardness, I know, but I really enjoyed you suckling on my nipples the other day. It made me feel really close to you. Would you do it a few minutes. You said your afternoon was free. Just a few minutes -- to calm us both down - then you should leave - I suppose -- talk another time."

George reached to place his cool bottle on his mother's chest between her breast. It caused her to fight the urge to retract, but instead arched her back and pushed her chest out prominently. After a few long moments, he placed his Coke on the table and leaned over to fondle, squeeze and thumb, then, nuzzle, then, suckle at his mother's left breast. Soon, his right hand dropped to palm her crotch.

"You shouldn't do that." She said flatly, without conviction.

"You keep saying that but you never do anything to stop it." He returned, letting loose her nipple only long enough to reply.

"All I want is a little tenderness and warmth! What am I supposed to do if you persist in crossing bounties -- am I to fight - holler rape?" She challenged. "I am a prisoner in this apartment. You decide where I go and when I go. You're the only man in my life so what the hell am I supposed to do except submit to your every whim. If you want to stick your cock in me -- to screw me - you're going to do whatever you want to do - no matter what I say. You've wanted me for years! As your mother I will always advise and contest your actions." She ended matter-of-factually.

George's answer was to scoot to the edge of the sofa and recline his mother down behind him, her back against the sofa. He then shifted his position to lay facing her on the sofa, lifting her left leg and placing his right knee between her legs and against her crotch with intent to arouse, palming her ass. He released her nipple and began kissing her breast and shoulders, kissing her firmly when he reached her lips. Beverly had never been a good kisser and her lips deformed under the lustful pressure, not actively returning the kiss.

"You're fooling no one, Bev." He said, breaking the kiss, looking her in the eyes, using her nickname. "You want to blame me - have at it. Keep telling yourself you're only giving it up because you have to. I'll stop any damn time you tell me to - up to a point. When and if I my cock gets in you - hell and high water will not get me to stop. You'll get a helluva lot more than just an orgasm - I promise you that."

Beverly passively allowed her body to the ravaged - his hands exploring everywhere, unfastening her shorts, stripping her of them, leaving just her panties. She still was unwilling to admit to her desires -- telling herself, him and the world, through osmosis, we must conclude, she had no choice.

His nose was now poking into the moistened area of her crotch. Her soft moans were involuntary. The repositioning of her legs to widen her thighs was voluntary. She lifted her left leg to the top of the sofa, bending her right knee to give him access.