Whispers In The Night 2

I'm no different than just about all young men. I was obsessed with my Mother.

Once I graduated from high school, started attending the local college, got laid, and became a man, I thought it would pass. It didn't. I dated college women who had something about them that reminded me of Mom, and every time I got lucky I imagined it was her. When I masturbated, it was Mom's face I saw. As I said, I was obsessed.

But you know, there's something about wanting to fuck your Mom. It's kind of like wanting to be a major league baseball player. Sure, you know the basics. You might even be pretty good. The odds of making it to The Bigs are slim to none. There are some dreams that, no matter how much you want it, you know it just can't happen. Won't happen. Dream all you want, you're not going to make it to the Bigs. Dream all you want, you're not likely to get in your Mom's pussy. That sure didn't stop my fantasies, though.

Mom and Dad had decided that even though I was attending college close by, I should live in the dorm to enjoy the full college experience. I was glad of that, and took full advantage of it. There were sometimes when I would go a full month without going home. But when I went home, it was always the same. I would see Mom, and those feelings, those desires, would bubble up again. Bubble up? Hell, they spurted up like a gusher.

She would always meet me at the back door in the mud room, and she always gave me a big hug. I was self-conscious of the raging boner she caused and would lean forward to hug her so she couldn't feel it. As far as I knew, she was not aware of the effect she had on me. And why would she be? Mom, in my eyes, was still beautiful as ever, but she was a little older. She had me when she was 30, and now she was 51. She had streaks of gray in her hair and was a little more plump than she had been in my youth. For me, that was just right - plump was, to me, a sexy word, for it described perfectly what I liked in a woman. Young hard bodies just didn't do it for me, but give me a plump woman with a substantial ass and a big handful of tits, and I was in heaven.

One autumn Saturday when the football game was away, Mom called. "Feel up to a spaghetti dinner?"

She knew that was my weakness. "Hell, yeah. Meatballs?"

"If that's what it takes to get you to visit me, sure," she said, and laughed. "You want big balls?"

I spewed the coffee I was drinking. Was this a tease from my Mother? She had laughed, so maybe she had no idea what she was saying. Should I just ignore it? Or should I tease her back? I thought that if I did tease her, I could always say it was just a harmless joke if she didn't like it, so I went in. "Sure. I like 'em big. Do you like big balls? Big meat balls?"

To my relief, she laughed. "I don't remember," she said, "but I think I do. Come to dinner and we'll see if they're big enough for us."

At that we both laughed, and I said I'd be over in the afternoon so Dad and I could watch the game. When we hung up, I just sat there, bewildered. What had just gone on? Was my Mom flirting with me? Teasing me? When I turned 18 and thought I was a man, I went through a phase that we all go through, I guess. I wanted more than anything to fuck my Mom, but of course I had no idea of how to make it happen. So I did what we all do. I rubbed against her at every opportunity and, being a young jerk, got to the point of impetuosity where I would rub her butt when no one was watching.

She never said a word about it, until one fateful evening when we were doing dishes after dinner. She was at the sink and I was drying, standing beside her, and I just placed my hand right on her butt and gave a squeeze. She jumped like she had touched a live wire. "Young man," she growled. "You keep your hands to yourself. I hope you don't treat the girls at school like that. Show some respect."

And that was it. My butt-fondling days with Mom ended right there. And that explains why I hugged her like I did. If she reacted that way to a hand on her ass, she would absolutely freak if she felt my hard cock on her belly. But did that cool my desire for her? Hell, no. If anything, it made it even hotter. But I did take her lesson to heart, and became very respectful around women. I can say, I think, that it made me a better lover, because I never rushed anything. I would always respectfully ask if I could kiss them, and, if things progressed well, I never took the initiative. I found that it was pretty damned exciting to have a woman so hot she would beg me to fuck her. "Oh, fuck me, Steve, please. Give it to me." Yep, those were hot words to hear.

But back to the now. Was Mom teasing me? Was it harmless joking, which I assumed it was, or was it something more. After I jacked off thinking about her, I decided it was harmless and meant nothing. Now that I was no longer a boy, maybe she thought she could make adult jokes with me. Yep. That was it.

So when I showed up at the house that afternoon, that was on my mind and I was standing tall. Hard as a rock. As usual, Mom met me at the back door and hugged me. This time, though, I wasn't really thinking and I hugged her tight to me, pressing my dick against her. She held the hug a bit longer than usual and then leaned back, my cock still pushing against her stomach. She looked in my eyes and then leaned forward to gently kiss my cheek. "Go on," she whispered, "Your Dad is in the den waiting for you. We'll have dinner after the game."

I got a couple of beers and went into the den and Dad and I watched our team take a complete drubbing. It was painful. After it was finally over, I wandered into the kitchen and lifted the lid of the sauce pan to check it out. Mom came over and, taking the ladle, lifted one of the meatballs up for me to see. "Is this big enough for you?"

I laughed. "Is it big enough for you? That's the question. I think you like them big," I said as I laughed. She swatted my bottom and laughed with me.

"That will be enough of that. Some secrets have to stay hidden, you know." She then walked away to finish setting the table. I'll swear she gave her butt a little extra sway when she walked. She had to have known I was watching. Was that for me? What was going on?

After dinner - and the meatballs were delicious - we all went into the den to watch another game. This one was a much better game, and Dad and I were really into it. I noticed Mom went out and when she returned she had on her night time clothes, which consisted of yoga pants and a tee shirt. That was not unusual, but what was different was that her nipples were poking out quite prominently.

Now look. I'm still relatively young, but I've been around the block. I know what hard, erect nipples mean. The room wasn't cold so it couldn't be that, and that left only one alternative as far as I knew. Mom was excited about something. "There's food for thought," I said to myself and, because I was having this internal conversation, I didn't realize my eyes were fixated on her breasts until she waved her hand in front of her to get my attention. I looked up at her face and she gave me the Mom Grimace and signaled with her eyes that I should turn my attention to the game.

That evening when I was leaving, as usual she walked me to the back door to say goodbye. We hugged again, and this time I let my dick push against her like before. She didn't react to it, but whispered in my ear. "You want to make a date for next weekend? I'll fix anything you want."

"Sure. Anything you give me is good, and the best I'll ever have," I said. I meant it as a double entendre, but I don't know if she took it that way. This was uncharted territory.

"Oh, that's pressure," she whispered. "I'll have to make sure it's good for you, then."

And that was it. I drove back to the dorm with my thoughts racing. If it were anyone else, any other woman, I would think that I was in. It was going to happen, sooner or later. But this was Mom, and those whispered comments probably didn't mean the same thing. It was damned exciting, though, and the thoughts of her words kept me awake many nights that week.

The next weekend was a home game, and normally I would be in the stadium with my buds. The thought of Mom and those whispered words, probably meant in an innocent, unknowing way, changed everything, though. There was nothing I wanted more than to be with her again, to flirt and tease if the opportunity arose, and so that Saturday afternoon I was home again.

She met me at the back door. "I wasn't sure you'd come," she said. "It is a home game, isn't it?"

I held my arms out and she came to me. I pulled her against me, knowing she would have to be nerve dead from the neck down to not know that was a hard dick pushing against her. I whispered, "Which do you think I want more? To see a football game, or have a hug like this from you?"

"Oh, Honey," she whispered in my ear. "What are you doing to me?"

Whoa. There could be several answers to that, but the very question was full of meaning. What could I say? Maybe it was a rhetorical question, not wanting an answer, but it was a question.

"I'm innocently hugging you."

"I'm rubbing my hard cock on your belly."

"I'm trying to fuck you, like I always wanted."

There were those possible answers, and probably many more, but I was stymied. What could I say? So I said the truth, kind of. "Loving you." Of all the possible answers I could have given, that was probably the best one. She hugged me tighter and buried her head against my chest. I kissed the top of her head and then, like a fool rushing in, I slid my hands down from her waist to just the top of her luscious butt. We stood like that for a bit, and I noticed she was breathing hard, like she had just run a 10K, or something.

She pushed me away and said, "He's in there waiting for you. Go on." She smiled. That beautiful smile I had always loved. Then she did what I never expected. She came to me and kissed me on the lips. I watched her face as she came in, and he lips were pursed and slightly open. I may not be many things, but what I am, is a good kisser, so I responded in kind. We kissed for a moment, then she pulled back. "Go on," she whispered huskily.

"One more," I said, and pulled her back to me. This time, I gently probed with my tongue and damn! She responded. Here I was, standing at the back door, and tongue kissing my Mother. I slid my hands down to her ass again, and this time made no secret of it. I cupped her butt in my hands, pulled her against my dick, and humped it against her as we kissed. The kiss was getting more heated by the moment.

She pushed away again. "Jesus," she breathed. "Get in there before he comes looking for you." She turned to walk away, and there it was again - she swayed her ass invitingly. She turned her head back to catch me with my eyes glued to her ass. "And don't ever let anyone see you doing that," she said in a parting shot.

I honestly cannot even remember the game that afternoon. I can't remember what we had for dinner. I can't remember anything, except that moment between Mom and me. It was not all perfect - she had not walked me to the back door when I left, but simply called out from the kitchen, "I love you. See you next weekend?"

"If you'll have me," I called back. "I love you, too."

The week passed in a blur. I had, after all, a lot to think about. What we had done. The passionate hugging and kissing. I guess because I had always wanted her so much and knew it was wrong, over the years I had pulled away and become somewhat distant. Mom and I never kissed, except a perfunctory buss on the cheek, and I rarely said, "I love you." The most I could get out was usually, "Uh, huh, you too," or something like that when she'd say she loved me. And now, suddenly, where were we? I was kissing her like a lover, holding her ass, and rubbing my hard dick against her.

I realized that maybe I had not said it all those years, but I did love her. I was glad I had told her that, and hoped she had noticed.

Where do you think I was the next weekend?

Mom didn't meet me at the back door when I came in. "Hello," I called. "Anybody home?"

"In the kitchen," she answered. I walked in and immediately noticed she had shorts and a tee shirt. As she turned to face me, I couldn't help but notice that her nipples were standing out like little pebbles.

"Dad's gone to the store to get me some curry spice. He'll be right back."

She stood there, so I made the first move. I walked to her, and we feverishly embraced. This time there was no pretense. I kissed her deeply, she kissed me just as passionately, and I cupped that perfect ass. "Careful," she whispered. "I mean it. He's been gone awhile, and he'll be right back." As far as I was concerned, that was a major victory. She acknowledged that we were involved in something that Dad should never know about and she was telling me that my ultimate goal just might be possible, after all.

By this time, I was in the mode. My Mother or not, this was a hot woman I was kissing so I responded as I would with any hot woman. "Then we'd better hurry." I kissed her again. We were grinding like two teenagers, and I moved my left hand from her ass, sliding it up her right side, and gently cupped her breast. I could feel her hard little nipple in the palm of my hand. I moved my hand to her waist so I could get under her tee shirt and had just moved it up to hold her bare breast when we heard the garage door start to open.

Both of us jumped like we had heard a nuclear bomb go off. "Go!," she said. "Go in the den and turn the tv on." She scurried over to the sink and started puttering with something. I knew why she did that. She didn't want him to see her hard little nipples when he came in.

We had steaks that night, and Dad grilled them outside. When I heard the patio door slide open, I went into the kitchen and stood by Mom at the sink so we could both watch him outside, his back to us. I put my arm around her and slid my had down to her ass. She snuggled against me, turning slightly so her breasts were pressing against the side of my chest. "I mean it," she whispered. "Don't you ever let him see you doing this."

I don't know what I said. I guess I said something like, "Oh, I won't," but her words burned in my brain. Where before she had said, "You keep your hands to yourself," this time she said, "Don't you ever let him see you doing this." That was a quantum leap - a sea change - and I hoped I knew what it meant. It didn't mean, "Don't do that," but meant, "You can do it as long as no one knows."

After dinner we all retired to the den to watch a game. Dad sat in his usual chair and I sat on the couch, kind of behind him and to the right. Mom usually sat in her chair, positioned to the front and right of the couch, but this time she joined me. I was at the left end of the couch and she sat in the right corner. After Dad got into the game, she patted the cushion beside her. "Move over here and you can see better," she said. I scooted over to the center of the couch. I didn't want to be too obvious and get too close to her, those words still ringing in my ears, "Don't you ever let him see you doing this." She turned toward me and lifted her legs up, sitting sideways, and put her feet in my lap. "This okay?" she asked. "My legs are tired."

"Yeah," I said, afraid to say anything more.

"Come a little closer. This hurts my knees," she said, and I scooted closer so her thighs were resting across my lap. We sat like that for awhile, with Dad getting more engrossed in the game, and I laid my hand on her thigh. She had to be able to feel my hard cock against the backs of her legs, and I hunched up against them.

"What do you have the thermostat set on?," she asked Dad. "It's freezing in here."

He turned his head to answer. "Then why are you wearing shorts? Get a blanket," and he turned back to the game.

"Clueless," I thought. "Here I am, feeling up his wife, and he's clueless."

Mom leaned forward to pull the throw off the back of the couch and as she did, pushed her legs down on my dick. She giggled a little as she spread it over her legs and my lap.

"That better?," she asked.

I said nothing, but put my hand back on the top of her leg, under the blanket. I squeezed her leg and she put her hand under, too, on top of my hand.

We sat like that for the rest of the game. I'll admit, I tried moving my hand up her leg to her pussy, but she squeezed my hand in admonition and kept me from doing it. My mind racing a thousand miles and hour, I took that not as, "Don't ever do that," but "Not here, you idiot," and accepted it.

The game ran a little late. When it was over, Dad stood up, stretched and yawned, and said, "That's it for me. I'm going up. See you next weekend?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," I said, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and laughed. Mom jumped up and pulled my hand to make me get up.

"You'd better go, too, Steve. It's late and I'm old." She folded the blanket and put it on the back of the couch while we watched Dad head up the stairs. When he had gone, she took my hand and led me to the mud room at the back door. She didn't say a word, but fell into my arms, kissing me passionately.

Where my hand had been when Dad got back from the store was burned into my brain, and I wasted no time. I ran my hand under her tee shirt, cupping her breast. Her nipple was as hard as I had ever felt a nipple, and I gently squeezed it. She moaned in my mouth, and doubled the passion of her kiss. She had her arms around my neck, holding my face to her, and I felt her left hand leave my neck. She reached down and put her hand between us, holding my dick. She squeezed it, rubbing her thumb along the head of it.

"I'm standing here, my Mom's tit in my hand, and she's holding my dick." My thoughts were racing. I thought, "What now? Do I fuck her right here?" She pulled back and pushed me away."

"Too fast," she whispered. "I'm scared. You'd better scoot yourself back to your dorm before I lose my head."

What did that mean? She had let me get my hands on her ass and had held my dick, and now she was telling me I was moving too fast? Hell, I wasn't moving nearly as fast as I wanted. But my rule was, make them ask for it. If slow was what she wanted, that was fine with me - as long as it got us where I wanted to be. Besides, she wasn't a girl who teased and teased. No, she was a mature woman. She was my Mother, and I was asking her to do something she had maybe never even considered.

I protested, of course, but she wouldn't have it. She pushed me toward the door. "Maybe you could work us into your schedule again next weekend?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, and leaned forward to gently kiss her lips again. "I love you. I really do."

"Oh, I know," she said. "I know."