Why He Fucked His Momma

this story is based on a true incident in my life, successfully dealt with in therapy. Everything after they leave the gigolo's apartment is fantasy, and is not something I would condone. I don't condone what happens before that either, but it happened. Jb7

He sat there, puzzled, disoriented. Even with his eyes closed, the smell of the place, something was foreign, not his room, not his bed. Dimly, as through a thick fog, he heard voices murmuring. A male voice was moaning, humming with pleasure, accompanied by a woman's mews of delight.

As the fog of sleep lifted, the sounds became clearer, more easily identified, comprehended. "Hey, take it easy. I've already got a circus tent pole in my pants." It was the male voice, slightly familiar.

A low sensuous chuckle was the response. "I can take care of that for you."

His mother's voice. The evening, the day came rushing back to him.

#####

The call had come into the mechanical lab where he worked calibrating meters and gauges for the testing firm which employed him. It was just after nine thirty that morning. "Greg McKenzie. Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too. What's got you all full of piss and vinegar this morning?" It was his mother's voice, bright and chipper, something of a rarity recently, especially this time of day.

"Hey, Mom. You sound like somebody hit you with a happy stick, too. What's up?"

"You weren't thinking about coming down tonight, were you?"

"Unnnh, not really. Joanne and I had made plans to go to dinner and then..."

"Oh." She paused for a long ten seconds. "I hate to impose, but could you come down? I'm sort of in a bind down here."

"What's going on? Your boss giving you problems?"

"No, nothing like that. You've met Joe, haven't you? Well," she drew it out, like she was debating with herself how much to confess. "Last night he wanted to...sleep over. When I said no, he got upset and raised his hand like he was going to hit me. He must have seen my expression, 'cause I was ready to hit him back, and you know he wouldn't have got back up this week. When he left, I heard a sound like two cars hitting, and when I went out this morning, the grille and fender on the passenger side of my car were all smashed in. I can't prove it was him, but I'm certain it was.

"I'm working alone tonight, and don't have a ride home. I was hoping you could come down and give me a lift."

*****

You, dear reader need some background. Our foggy hero's mother and stepfather were currently separated, not yet even contemplating divorce. Since they were legally separated, both enjoyed the freedom to 'date' anyone they wanted, without the need to explain why things couldn't go any further. Thus both could sleep around as much as their reputations would stand without the possibility of their partners wanting to get entangled in matrimony, of which both claimed they had had enough.

Greg's stepfather had been a farm hand on the mother's family farm when she caught her second illegitimate baby (our protagonist). She played on the stepfather's sympathetic and greedy nature, convincing him to say he was the baby's father.

What they had not foreseen was her father's reaction to the second pregnancy without a wedding. As soon as the baby was old enough to travel (three months at that time), they were not so politely asked to get their asses off his farm, even though by this time they were married.

She had grown up on that farm. Although she wasn't very big at five seven and a hundred and fifteen pounds, she was strong, and had the hands of a farm worker. Greg had memories of her hitting him upside the head when he was a teenager, for giving her sass. His head rang for a day and a half.

When her father said leave, she said it near broke her heart, then that steel rod she used for a backbone set in, like it always did when she had to do something unpleasant. She didn't say a word, just turned, went to her room, packed their bags and walked out without a by your leave. She never returned to the farm to spend the night.

The couple were together for just about twenty-one years, when she walked out, six weeks after Greg's birthday. At first, she had moved into an apartment in her brother's house, across the street from her husband, to be close to her children. That lasted about a year. When the separation became legal, she moved and started dating.

Her employer opened a branch of his retail grocery business in a town about thirty-five miles north, and convinced her to move, to be the book keeper and assistant manager. That was about three years after she left her husband.

Greg was living and working in a medium sized city called Milburn, about a forty five minute drive from the village of Elk Hill, where his mom's store was located. It was an easy drive, and more than a few of the people who worked in the factories surrounding Milburn made it twice a day, so, while it was inconvenient at the time, it wasn't a huge imposition.

*****

"You could bring Joanne, we could have dinner here together."

"Okay, I'll ask her," Greg said, seeing his plans to explore the next step in his relationship with Joanne go out the window for this weekend.

He was right. When he got to talk to her, she just laughed and politely declined. "Knowing your mom, call me when you get back Sunday. Maybe we can get together for a bit then."

Realizing she was probably right, he simply nodded and drove to his apartment to pack an overnight bag. With his mother's eating and drinking habits in mind, he stopped at a truck stop and had a garbage plate (cheeseburger, fries, slaw, mac salad and beans) for dinner. Tomorrow, he would not be nice to be around, but he should last most of tonight drinking anything but zombies.

He got to his mother's store just a few minutes after eight o'clock, in time to see her lock the front door and turn off the show room lights. He drove around to the back parking lot and knocked on the employee entrance.

When Cindy, his mother, saw that Joanne was not with him, she told him that she hoped she hadn't spoiled or interrupted any important plans. "Nothing that won't wait a year or two," he replied, with a wry grin.

"Oh," she said knowingly, "you two getting serious?"

"We're thinking about getting serious." He glanced through the window to the back parking lot. "Where's your car?"

"I called Charlie's Body Shop. They came and got it right after lunch. The insurance is already taken care of, and Joe can either pay the deductible, or spend weekends in the county jail for the next year for leaving the scene of an accident. He has matching damage, and paint scrapings from both cars match the other.

"The smug son of a bitch. If the car takes more than a week to fix, he'll have to pay the rental from Monday on. My insurance will pay for the first week."

Greg shook his head, silently wishing he were back in Milburn, his head buried between Joanne's thighs. That's where the night had been programmed to start. He looked at Cindy. "Well. Where can we eat?"

A bar just around the corner put out a salad bar every Friday, featuring fresh fruits and vegetables from Cindy's employer, their original raison d'etre. After eating there, and finishing a bottle of wine, Cindy had asked Greg if they could hit a couple of other bars in town. It soon became apparent to Greg that Cindy was well known in the places she chose to visit with him.

By the time they reached their last stop, he was just about out of it. It was one thirty in the morning; he had been up since five o'clock the morning before.

In addition to the half bottle of wine he had with dinner, there had been a highball or cocktail or two (Cindy insisted) at each of the four stops before this. He was twice Cindy's size; how did she hold up so well?

He was vaguely aware of the bartender. A youngish, gigolo-looking, slightly built toady, as Greg called him to himself. The only virtue he had, that Greg could see, was that he seemed to like Cindy. Somehow, Greg remembered, he had been helped up the steps to Carlos' apartment.

#####

"Hey, take it easy. I've already got a circus tent pole in my pants."

"I can take care of that for you."

"What about him?"

"He's asleep. When he's been drinking like tonight, when he goes to sleep, he can sleep through a hurricane." He heard the unmistakable rasp of a zipper.

Even though his eyes were still closed, with the sudden surge of anger, he saw red. Without moving from the easy chair he was in, he yawned and stretched, knocking over his drink and the lamp on the table next to the chair.

"Shit!" That was Cindy. It was followed by the sound of running feet. Greg stood and turned just in time to see her half naked form run out the apartment door into the hallway.

He glanced about the room and saw Carlos looking at him over the back of the sofa separating the two living areas, his eyes wide and frightened. Greg looked like the football player he had once been. Carlos looked like he was still fifteen.

Greg walked around the sofa, picking up Cindy's panties and bra. He stood there, looking down at Carlos, his prick flaccid, laying on his slacks. Greg reached down, inside the other man's pants, and grabbed his testes, squeezing them a bit more than gently.

"I'm not going to hear a word about this, am I, from anyone?"

"N-n-no."

"In fact, didn't I hear you say you were moving out of state this weekend?"

"Y-y-yeah, you might have." There was a slightly firmer squeeze. "Y-y-yes! I-I'm moving to Illi—I mean California!" The change in location had been prompted by another increase in pressure.

"Good; see that you do." Greg withdrew his hand, and without repositioning Carlos' flaccid prick, zipped up his fly. Greg was able to stifle the resulting scream with a throw pillow. With Cindy's underwear in his jacket pocket, he picked up her coat and purse and went outside to his car.

Cindy was waiting there. Without saying a word to her, he threw her stuff into the back seat, then opened and held the passenger door for her, still without a word. Docilely, she got in and sat down. As Greg walked around the car to get in, she reached into the back for her coat.

She was just starting to slip her arms in when Greg opened his door and jerked it away from her, to throw it into the back of the car. "You won't need that. If you're cold, you can move over and cuddle up against me to stay warm." She relaxed a bit. The bit of kindness the words implied gave her some hope.

Greg started the car, then reached around his mother and pulled her to him so that her back was up against his side, his right hand firmly grasping her left breast. Cindy reached up to pull his hand away, saying, "What are you doing? I'm you mother..."

"No! No mother would have done what you were doing."

Cindy blanched, hearing the fury and rage in his voice, realizing the implication in the words. "Stop it anyway. You're hurting me."

"Sorry," Greg replied, easing his grip. "Don't want you to be uncomfortable." He then released her breast and dropped his hand into her lap, and pushed it under her skirt. Before Cindy had fully grasped his intention, he was holding her bare pussy in his hand, two fingers fully buried in her sheath.

Cindy pulled away from him, reflexively. "What in hell do you think you're doing. I'm your mother, for shit's sake!"

He swung the steering wheel back and forth, pulling her back to him. "Careful, don't make me lose control. I'd hate to hear the stories they might tell if we were found like this. As for you being my mother, I thought we had settled that. And a shit's sake is about all that's worth, apparently."

"I'm sorry. Now, let go of me."

"Not yet, it's keeping my hand warm. Maybe when we get to your apartment." Recognizing the resolve in his voice, Cindy slumped back against him, trying to keep her mind off the fingers softly moving in her, off the fingers and the taboo situation, not totally successfully.

Although the village was small, given the lights and stop signs which Greg obsessively obeyed, it took nearly ten minutes to get to her apartment.

As soon as he freed her pussy, Cindy was across the seat and out the car door. She ran across the small parking lot to the entry door. Only then realizing she had left her purse and coat, along with her keys, in the car. She looked back to see her son carrying the coat and purse, tossing and catching the bunch of keys.

He wrapped the arm with the coat and purse around her waist as he opened the door. Inside was a long straight stairway to her apartment.

As she started up the stairs, she felt his hand snake up her skirt and grab her by the cunt again. Again, she felt his middle two fingers enter her. The other two fingers bracketed her clit and began a light massage, while his thumb assaulted her rosebud. She froze on the stairs.

"W...what are you going to do?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat.

Before answering, Greg dumped her coat and purse in her arms, then reached up and slid his hand inside her blouse, caressing her breasts.

"Haven't decided yet. It was pretty certain Joanne was going to spend the weekend at my place, something we both had been looking forward to for a month or so. It would have been our first time together, so I'm a little pissed about that.

"Then you go and pull that stunt with piss-ant Carlos and that mini dick he calls a tent pole. That has me majorly pissed. I'm not sure what pisses me off more, that it was you, or that you were gonna fuck him. Get upstairs. I'll decide when we get inside."

Greg was not naive. He knew his mother had been having sex, more or less regularly since the separation had become legal. The problem with Joe, he was sure, was that Joe had started taking the sex for granted and had stopped courting his mother.

While attempting to maintain the fiction they weren't sleeping together, she had voiced the complaint several times over the past few months. Based on conversations with Joanne, he had advised his mother to ration her favors.

Based on her behavior tonight, she had apparently decided if not Joe, then she would take whomever she could attract. He was also aware of the copious fluids running down his hand.

By the time they reached the top of the eighteen stair flight, Cindy was approaching orgasm. Her breathing was ragged, her knees rubbery, and Greg was practically lifting her from stair to stair. He reached around her to unlock the door and pushed her inside.As she staggered into the kitchen, the rear entry to her apartment, Greg withdrew his hand.

Cindy deposited her load on the table and turned to look at her son. A fraction of an inch under six feet, 195 pounds of sleek muscle, kept in shape by the twice weekly swim at the Y, there was little of his biological father visible in him. Her family's stamp was plain on his face and in his build.

Greg looked at his mother. They shared the same dark dishwater blonde hair and blue eyes. Like him, she bore the family visage, though softened by her feminine genes. She was attractive enough still at forty-five to turn men's heads, but not enough to be called pretty. Over the years she had put on a little weight so she was pleasantly rounded and sported a nice pair of BB boobs, sensitive boobs he had learned tonight.

He stepped toward the waiting woman, reaching out with his right hand to the collar of her blouse, just above the first fastened button. "Tell me, Momma," he whispered, sending a chill down her spine, "you ever been forced?"

She shook her head no. "Ever been fucked in the ass?"

Her face registered the alarm she felt. "No," she said emphatically, "and it's not going to happen tonight! I may or may not deserve whatever else you do to me tonight, but there is no way in hell I will permit that!"

Greg jerked his hand toward the floor. Buttons went flying everywhere accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric. He pushed the torn garment from her shoulders and off her wrists. She felt his hands grab the waist of the skirt. "No," she said, grabbing his hands. "It costs too much to replace skirts." She unbuttoned and unzipped the garment, and let it fall.

Her son grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the apartment to her bedroom and threw her on the bed on her back. She lay there, watching as he removed his clothes.

She gasped when he removed his pants and she saw the outline of his cock, resembling the Mull of Kintyre, in his jockeys. That was something he had inherited from his biological father.

With seven children and two pairs of adults on the farm (her sibs, parents and an aunt and uncle), there had been numerous times she had seen the family's one-eye in varying degrees of rampancy.

Her son, not yet fully erect from what she could see, was already bigger than her male relatives. She felt herself open further.

Greg approached the bed and his mother. He walked up on the bed on his knees and continued up her body, straddling her until he reached her shoulders, his cock about three quarters erect, dangling over her mouth. No word was exchanged as she reached up and slid her mouth over his corona, her tongue lightly massaging it as she applied enough suction to cause her cheeks to cave in slightly.

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face into his groin, roughly, causing her to gag. She closed her teeth just tightly enough on his staff to remind him where it was. When he jerked back, she released him and pulled away.

"I told you, I may or may not deserve what you're going to do to me, but no woman deserves to be treated like that, whatever she may have done. I will not allow you or any other man to abuse me in that way. You can fuck me as hard as you please, and I will suck your cock until the cows come home as long as you don't try to choke me on it."

Her reprimand took a bit of the anger out Greg. He flopped down beside her. "Why? And why him?"

She looked to the ceiling, thinking. "I was mad at Joe, for a bunch of reasons; and I was horny, partly mad horny, partly because Joe hadn't made me come in nearly a month. As for Carlos," she shrugged, "he was just there."

"You know the story of how he had fucked you with me there in the room would have been all over Main Street Monday morning."

'Shit! I never thought about that. I better get to him tomorrow."

"If you can find him. I told him to get out of town, out of state actually. He will. I gave him a small taste of what might happen if he doesn't."

"What'd you do?" she asked, an anxious tone in her voice.

"I zipped his slacks back up without putting his prick back in his shorts."

"Ouch!" she laughed. "Are we done here, or are you going to finish what you started?"

"I think I want to finish at least part of it. I can't punish you for being human, no matter how angry it made me; but we're still two very horny people who need release." He pulled her to him and kissed her, meeting her tongue on its way into his mouth.

Cindy didn't have to work the next day, so they spent the day in bed. Greg learned several ways to arouse and pleasure his partners. Cindy learned to enjoy anal sex.

The next weekend Greg and Joanne had their time together. It was perfect. Up until she told him she was getting married the following Spring, to her boss's boss.