Every once in a while I get fan mail from someone who claims to be a mother who wants to sleep with her son. Sometimes they even ask for advice. At first, I was taken aback by these emails — this is a fantasy for me only. While I have had girlfriends who have engaged in role play as my mother (and that was entirely awesome), nothing like this has ever actually happened to me, and never will. But I am left wondering about these requests. In terms of advice, I have none, except to say be really sure you want something like that to happen, because the social repercussions will likely be swift, fierce and merciless. But then, what is reward without risk? Keep those emails coming! I'll try to do the same for my fans.
*****
I moved my hands all over her ample asscheeks. The oil made the skin reflect the candlelight, and my cock even harder.
"Baby, you have a huge ass."
She turned her head to look at me while I worshipped her butt. "I know! It's massive! It just keeps getting bigger as I get older. Isn't it awesome?" She smiled at me and pushed her ass out even farther. "Don't you want to just kiss it, slap it, spread that oil until it shines, stick your tongue in it, just do everything and anything you can to get inside it?
"And I know what you want me to do, you dirty, dirty little boy." Her beautiful, long manicured fingers reached back and indented her cheeks. "You want me to take these..." Grip. "...And do this." She pulled her ass open and stuck her gorgeous little asshole out, making it wink for me.
"Jesus. You know me too well." My heart was racing. Nobody could play me like she could.
She let go and shook it; my eyes were glued to watching the flesh bounce. "See? You can't even look me in the eye when I do this. My ass totally owns you." She smiled again.
"It does, honey. It does. It owns me. I want to marry it."
"You want to marry my ass?" she laughed. That's hilarious! What if I said yes? What if I said yes right now?" Her eyes sparkled. "It's illegal to be married to more than one person at a time, but I'm not sure that applies..." She moved backwards enough to be able to push her ass against my face. "...To body parts as well. I think you're allowed to marry any of those, or all of them, if you want."
"Oh, want. I definitely want. You won't be jealous?" My tongue reach out and licked slowly around her tight, beautiful asshole. I felt each wrinkle of flesh as I swiped my tongue over them.
"Ooooh, oh God, i fucking love it when you rim me. No, I won't get jealous. I'll totally share you, with my pussy, my tits, my ass, whatever you want to combine your life with. They already own you completely, they already possess your soul, so why not? You have to promise to take care of them, though, through thick and thin, for forever, just like you promised me. Oh my God, your tongue is going inside me, inside my tight little asshole. That is so fucking dirty. Promise me you'll kiss me after. I want to taste my ass on you," she said.
"But you don't taste like anything, except like fresh, juicy pussy." Her juices had run her thighs and my face. "You're too clean to taste anything." I licked and kissed her ass, making out deeply with her back door. Frenching her from behind was how we often started our "play dates".
"Oh, oh, that feels so good. It doesn't matter, it just feels nasty, and dirty, and I love it, and I love you, and I want to kiss you when you're done. Honey-bear, I wanna' touch myself." Her right hand snaked between her thighs.
"That kiss could be a while. Now, would you like me to see how far up your tight, hot ass I can get this tongue of mine?"
"Yes! Yes, I do, please, baby. I think I'm gonna' sit on it to see if we can get it further in than last week. You don't mind if I smother you for a while, do you, you horny little fucker?" She laughed, knowing the answer.
In response, I took a deep breath and pulled on her thighs where they met her pelvis, completely covering my face with her ripe, full, tremendous ass. God, I was in Heaven. There was no better place to be that underneath my own mother's ass, my tongue deep in her asshole, her hands covered with oil, stroking my cock while she moaned from the pleasure I was giving her.
Pre-cum was drooling out of my cockhead, making it even more slippery. She moved from side to side, mashing down on me, forcing my chin to rub her clit and my tongue further up inside her.
I could barely hear her anymore, and I couldn't breathe. This was a new, somewhat dangerous game we played recently, when I found out how good it felt to be smothered by her ass while she stroked me, or blew me. I had a signal to tell her when she needed to get off of me, and almost all of the time, she obeyed it, except when she was really close to a big orgasm. Then she just kept going, no matter what I did.
When she did this the first time, I was really scared, but after I did some research and found out that I would pass out long before I suffocated, I told her to keep doing it. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually, even she found it really wrong, and therefore, really hot.
I had passed out a couple of times, but not before having the biggest orgasms of my life. We knew it was probably really bad for me, bad for my brain, but the reality was neither of us could stop when we were in that state. It was just another part of the extremely dangerous, chronically exciting life we lived together as mother and son, and husband and wife — and mother and father to our own relatives.
We talked about that, and we both agreed: that edge of the knife was what made our lives worth living.
We lived in a suburb of Phoenix, had a beautiful house with a pool, landscaping, two nice cars, the whole American dream. No one on our block, or in our city for that matter, knew about our relationship. We were 20 years apart in age, but that only bothered a few people. When they saw how much I loved and doted on my wife, my soul mate, they just assumed I was kinky, into older women.
That was true, but no women could capture my heart, soul and cock like my mom. She made me, raised me, and I was built just for her. It was, in a word, a perfect match, by design.
My lungs were really hurting for air, but my lust for my mom's asshole overrode any instinct of self-preservation. I wanted her to come on my face so hard that her asshole ejected my tongue. So far, I had never managed to keep it in during her orgasm, but I kept trying.
"Unnnnnnhh..." She was making the continuous moaning sound rising in pitch that meant she was close. It was a fantastic signal because I could time her orgasms easily with other events.
It looked like I was going to have to pass out again, My cock swelled at the thought, her fingers barely reaching around it. I was a full nine inches, and thick too. She said I was the biggest she'd ever had, certainly bigger than my father, but that didn't stop her from taking me into every orifice she could manage.
She swirled her hand on the tip, hard. That did it. My balls churned, and my dick pulsed.
She tried to lift off of me, but I pulled her down again. I started to see black spots. "Oh God, I love you so much!" she shouted, moving forwards and backwards on my face in little humps, getting herself off.
The tunnel started closing in, a now easily recognizable state of unconsciousness approaching. She was coming, I could feel it in her muscles and how her ass cheeks were shaking. My cock swelled and exploded in her hand, come flying all over the place. I heard her scream, but it trailed off as things faded to black.
Five years earlier
"Josh, are you ready?" My mom was downstairs, calling up for me. I looked in the mirror. The suit was a good fit. My face was haggard. Black circles made my eyes look huge. Spots of red highlighted my cheeks, an artifact of another round of sobbing. It was time to go to my father's funeral.
"Yeah, mom. Just a minute." I splashed cold water on my face.
"Hurry, honey."
I dried off, took another look. That was as good as it was going to get. I went downstairs. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, my mom stepped out of the living room. She looked spectacular in black. She was a bit taller than me, about 5'10". 42 years old, but she looked 35 due to a bunch of yoga and healthy living. Her outfit was conservative, but no matter what she wore, her really large breasts couldn't be denied. Thoughts of how hot she looked managed to cut through the fog of grief.
"Mom, you look great. Just how Dad would have liked." The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them, because I could see her tear up. She managed to hold it in.
"Thank you, honey. That is a great suit on you. You look so much like him in it. Ok, we have to go."
We were silent the entire way to the funeral home. I barely remembered the service afterwards. My dad was never religious, so the pastor's speech was short and sweet. There were quite a few people there, some from his work, his hunting buddies, old college friends. Lots of people had flown in from out of town.
The only thing that stood out to me was when I threw the handful of dirt on his grave. I started crying, but it was controlled. I looked over at my mom, and both of us had a moment of such profound collective anguish. The fact that we shared it was the only thing that made it bearable.
