Chapter 4
"Mark," I whispered, placing my hand on his muscular shoulder and rocking it. "Wake up, honey."
"Wha..." he started, rolling over on his back, then sitting up. "What's up, Mom?"
"Billie's coming home today, dear."
"Well, I know that. She always does on Christmas vacation."
"I know, dear. But it'll be the last time you and I can get together for a while. I just thought...."
Mark laughed and ran his fingers through his brown, tousled hair. He looked incredibly handsome, with a similar animal-like quality to his idol, Elvis Presley.
"You just thought we ought to do it one more time, for good measure, didn't you, Mom?"
"Good enough to last us a couple of weeks, dear."
He pushed the covers aside and slid off the other side of his bed. The muscles on his back rippled as he took long steps to his bathroom. Since we had started having regular sex, he no longer wore his pajama tops, only the bottoms.
His entire manner had also changed. He had become the man in the family, in more ways than one. No longer was he apprehensive or tentative with me. He had become assertive and powerful, and the way he treated me made me feel more like his woman than his mother.
"Lie down on my bed, Mom, and I'll take care of you as soon as I use the John and brush my teeth."
I got between the covers of his double bed, letting my nightgown hike up around my waist, and rubbing my breasts with my palms. I heard the toilet flush and the water run in the sink. I had thought a lot about being with my son a final time before Billie arrived. I had awakened, hot and bothered, only stopping to use the bathroom and to put on my makeup and brush my hair to make my face look softer. The short wait enhanced my excitement. My nipples already felt hot for his mouth, and my cunt became more juicy by the second. We had done it so many times, Mark and I, that neither of us were awkward any more. He had been totally attentive to my needs for an entire month. He had not dated and he had even seemed to be in conflict when he had to leave home to go to school or to football practice.
The door to his bathroom opened and Mark returned to his bedroom without his pajama bottoms. I guess he liked the excitement that showed in my face when I saw his slightly-erect rod that swayed slowly in front of him as he approached the bed. His strong, young body did turn me on. His flat stomach was nicely covered with hairs that grouped around his belly button, slanting upward to branch across his huge chest and leading the eye downward to the healthy thatch of a curly nest of hairs circling at the base of his very fine cock.
"Don't say anything, Mom," he said, jumping on the bed and rolling his body next to mine. "I know what turns you on."
He did. For the longest time, he did not make a move, merely stared at the breasts that showed clearly through the diaphanous material of the nightgown I was rubbing them with. Against my thigh, I could feel his rod hardening even more. Just thinking about how nice it had made me feel on so many occasions was enough to make me want everything to happen quickly. Yet I knew it had to happen a certain way, and so did he. He broke into a smile while he waited, watching me become more excited by the minute.
I caressed the underside of my breasts, sliding the silky material of my nightgown upward, as my thumb and fingers forced them into nice little cones.
"Take them out of the material, Mom," Mark said. "Let me have some of your milk."
It was the way we always started, Mark pretending he was again a little boy wanting nourishment and myself getting more and more excited with the awareness until I could stand it no more and ripped the material away, exposing my hard nipple to his view and enabling him to grasp it with his mouth.
"Here, honey. Put your mouth on my breast, like a good little boy. Suck on it, sweetie."
I slipped my hand underneath the material and slowly took it out for him. I watched, arching it upward toward him, my mouth remaining open while he bent forward to it, his breath felt first on my nipple, then his tongue, and finally his warm mouth opening to take the nipple inside his lips and teeth. I clutched at his full growth of hair, forced his face against my breast, and felt his wet warm mouth take more of it inside. The sucking he was giving that nipple, that breast was excruciating. He did it tenderly, yet greedily as he ever had. My legs spread involuntarily, urging him to give that hot portion between my legs attention. He complied, and I soon felt, not only the sensuality in my breast being attended to but the sexuality in the throbbing portion between my legs.
He ran his hand up and down my cunt, separated my pussy lips with his two fingers while a third slid into the wet membranes, tweaking across my clitoris and then digging through the membranes to my vagina. I spread my legs wider, as the gentle sucking and tugging to my nipple made me feel equally dizzy.
"Oh, you dear boy," I said, grinding his head harder into my breast. "Oh, that feels so good. Oh, it's so nice the way you touch my cunt, sweetie. Oh, you're such a good boy, a good son."
His mouth closed onto nearly half my breast while his tongue continued its warm slide across my erect nipple, circling my aureola. His right hand clutched the flesh of my breast, kneading it as if that would make the imagined milk flow more readily. Simultaneous with his kneading, he drew his mouth back until only the inside of his lips continued to suck on my nipple. The way he did this was like an expert, and every sensory cell in that organ was ignited with sensation, each cell seeming to have its own throb as he continued to suck so delicately that I again experienced the definite feeling that a substance was oozing through its hole and into his mouth. Along with this feeling came a dizziness that overtook my entire being. The way his fingers were so delicately playing onto the sensory nerve networks in my crack made everything all the more enjoyable.
How good it all felt! How wonderful to have a grown son take care of his mother with such expertise! And he was excited, too. The rod pressing into my thigh was damp at its hole, and I suddenly wanted it to press into my cunt, to begin to separate those lips with its large head, and to split my insides with its length and breath.
I turned my body and started to get on top of him. Not once did he break the rhythm with which he was sucking on my nipple. When I was on top of him, my one breast hanging down, clutched by the nipple with his mouth and the other also desirous of his ministrations, he moved his cock upward, across his abdomen where, by moving my body backward just a bit, I could feel his cockhead press against the wide-spread lips of my quim.
Somehow, it was better, my being on top of him, my clitoris squashed across his stomach where by grinding against him, getting him wet, the rub of my clit against his stomach hairs and skin created in my unparalleled passion.
I pushed my hands into the mattress and drew my breast away from his mouth. Still squirming my cunt against his stomach, letting it slide forward and backward, until it hit against his cockhead, we played our happy game. I rotated my shoulders until the nipple of my other breast was planted directly above his open mouth, and then lowered my body, my breast filling his mouth and he began another sucking series to the nipple.
By pushing my butt backward, I felt the tip of his rod separate my pussy lips, begin to edge into my crack. I lifted my abdomen, reached back until my fingers could grasp the staff of his cock, right underneath its mushroom-like tip. I held it tight as I slid back on his body and felt the throbbing of his head against the wide-spread hole of my vagina. Then I slipped my body backward, a little bit more, until the tip edged a short way into my vagina. As always, he gave my vagina great pleasure as his own little jabbings with his butt forced it into me. His jabs, plus my moving backward on his stomach, spread my vaginal walls as his prick-head edged further up me. Once it was lodged firmly enough that I knew it would not slip out, I released my hand and our breast game continued.
Each time I took one breast from him and teased him with the other, he eagerly, sought it, tonguing the nipple first and then grasping it with his lips when I lowered the breast into his mouth. All the while, I kept slowly moving back, feeling his huge cock ooze deeper into my vagina. I slid my legs backward, clutching my thighs together when he had slipped his rod into me several inches. That was much better. I had to pause while my fast-beating heart and my rapidly-heaving lungs slowed. Otherwise, I might have come. I did not want to have everything over with too soon. I wanted to make sure our sex lasted as long as possible.
I waited, still enjoying his suck to my nipple, while my breathing calmed and I could start to move backward so his rod filled my vagina more without being in danger of ripping right into an orgasm. The more I moved backward, the more he filled me, and "he soon had his own rhythm going with his cock. I could feel the strong muscles of his stomach tense as he jabbed upward with his butt, and his cock slid deeper into me. The wetness I was exuding in my crack, in my vagina made his slide into me easier. I felt him in me by five inches, then six. I pushed my rear back, felt my clit wet more of his abdomen as the inside of my vagina separated further up. He had dug into me another inch, and his constant upward movement made him slide into me deeper, inch by inch, until his full hot thickness filled me to the very hilt
I rocked my body on his, loving the feeling of his cock pressing against the insides of my vagina, loving the warm, gentle suck to my nipple that he was giving me, wanting to rock on him until I was lulled right into orgasm, but another desire overtook me. Much as that nice hard cock felt so good, the picture of his mouth, of his lips, of his tongue nibbling at my clit created even more promise of pleasure. Although I had sucked him off once, most of our sex involved him fucking me, after he had titillated my nipples so. He had not thought to go down on me yet, probably was waiting for me to indicate it would be all right. But I wanted that feeling, I wanted that experience, and I thought if he would just suck on it a little bit, then I could roll over onto my back and he could do with my body what he wished.
Straightening my back to a point where my body was perpendicular to his, watching his eyes go from one breast to the other and seeing him lick his lips with anticipation of another suck, made me want to do it more. Sitting straight up on my son, feeling his rod sink into my insides nearly to my stomach, made it difficult for me to hold to my fantasy, to keep it in mind with him so nicely splitting me. But I had imagined him eating me many times and wanted him to do that.
"Don't you like what I'm doing, Mother? Isn't it all right? Is there something wrong?" It was a rhetorical question. He knew very well how much he was pleasing me, even as he watched the slit of my crack near my clit while I continued rocking on his middle, each rock making me feel his cock deeper in me.
"You're doing it fine, like you always do, Mark. There's just something else I've thought of, that I'd like you to do."
"What is that, Mom?" he asked, jabbing at me again with his cock.
"How would you like your lips on my cunt, Mark? How would you like to suck on my clit?"
"I've wanted to do that for a long time, Mom. Even before we got together."
"Then why didn't you?"
"I didn't want to shock you, Mom. I figured when you were ready to do that, you would let me know."
"I'm letting you know right now. I'd like you to do that."
"Then come up here, Mom. Hard for me to do that when you're planted right smack on my cock."
I lifted up on my knees, enjoying the fact he was intently watching my cunt leave his prick. I scooted up his stomach, letting my pussy juices make contact with his skin all the way up. I lifted my legs over his shoulders and dug my knees into either side of the mattress, next to his head. I held my nightgown up with my hands so I could see that I lowered my cunt at the precise, right place.
His tongue reaching into the center of my crack was the first thing I felt and I shut my eyes tight at I rotated my rear, feeling his tongue slide up and down my widened quim. It felt good to scrunch my cunt hard against his face, feeling his forehead and nose sink into my spread pussy and enjoying the way he turned his face to right and left, the way he ground it into me. But nothing felt quite as good as when I lifted up slightly and felt his tongue squashing against my clitorial mound.
He opened his mouth wide enough to take the entire mound between his lips and if the feeling in my nipple and deep in my vagina had been wild and exciting, it was nothing like having his nice clean tongue slide across that hot little nub that was threatening to explode at any moment. He dug his tongue into each and every fold of membrane in my mound, soon sucked that wonderful clit into his lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth across it, nibbling at it, nuzzling it into greater ecstasy was almost more than I could take. How many times he had done this to women, I did not know. But I was certain none of them had been taken to such heights of feeling as I now was being taken.
The delicacy with which he slid his tongue across it was so titillating it was hard for me to remain aware of what was happening. Yet it bothered me that his own hand was pumping his rod and I felt that the least I could do, was to take care of his needs while he was so attentive in taking care of my own. Call it mother love, or whatever, I felt it was the least I could do for my son.
"Just a minute, honey. I want to take care of you, too," I said, maneuvering my legs so they straddled his head, but so I was also able to take care of his prick. I grasped the staff of his cock, pulling it toward me so I could slip my tongue across its head, tonguing his glans opening that was oozing with semen. Lowering my cunt to his face again, I lapped the semen into my mouth, before sliding my lips over his cockhead.
His lips glommed onto my clit again and he sucked, pulled and tugged against it until I could do nothing else but rest my body weight on his head. He seemed to enjoy that, fully as much as the gentle return of sensuality I was giving to his prick. The more he sucked on my clit, the more I sucked on his cock. The more we both sucked, the more excited we got. Feeling his head squash into my cunt crack, yet still so delicately attend to my clit was driving me into sensual depths I had not yet been.
How could such an inexperienced youth do me better than any other man had yet done me? Or was their something else going on, the fact that I was having sex with my own son that added the extra sexual elixir that was making it all so wild and wonderful? Whichever, it did not matter now, not the way we were both responding and feeling. The enthusiasm with which he was sucking on my clit was only matched by the equal intensity with which I was sucking on his cock. And just as I would regularly grind my rear so he could take care of more of my cunt, so would he insure his own pleasure, by quickly rocking his rear up into the air so his cockhead would slide deeper into my mouth.
It became very important to me that we both have our orgasms at the same time. That would cement our relationship. It would make him feel he was more of a man and it would make him remember his mother forever, even if he finally fell in love with another woman.
I clasped his nice, tight balls in my hand and rolled them between my fingers while I gripped his staff with the other hand and began to pump it as furiously as possible. My tight-clutched fist could feel the heavy thumping of the vein which would soon release his semen into my mouth where I could ingest it and suck on the tip until there was no more fluid to be had. The pumping had the desired effect. He was soon jutting his cock upward with strong, steady thrusts while he continued to suck at my clit until I spread my legs as wide as they could go. The added pressure of my body weight made the sucking he was giving me better and it soon felt like I was floating through space, in a state of maximum excitation, which, I knew was a match for him.
The spurts of semen striking my mouth came easily and steadily, and the warmth of them, the taste of them triggered my excitement even more. I could feel the overwhelming waves of orgasm begin to spread through me, starting at the clit he was still sucking on. For a moment, the two of us stopped, as we both experienced the peak of our orgasm. Yet after that brief pause, we both continued to give one another pleasure. The greatest pleasure I experienced was the swallowing of his semen, after the wonderful throbbing in my clit subsided.
He continued to lick me even while I rolled over on the bed, still holding his cock in my mouth. He sat up and smiled, my juices spread across his face from cheek to cheek and from forehead to chin.
"That's okay, Mom," Mark grinned. "Ain't much more stuff in me that's left."
I still hated to draw my mouth back from his cock, but I finally released it, marveling so at the feeling I had, that I was glowing from head to foot.
Along with the return of my energy came my return to reality. It was nearly noon, I surmised, from the way the sun illuminated the room so brightly. Billie would be arriving home in the afternoon, if what she had told me the night before was correct. There was much to be done.
"That was wonderful, Mark," I said, sitting up on the side of the bed and getting to my feet.
"You're telling me?" he said. "Maybe when Billie comes home you and I can still sneak away for an evening. We could go to a drive-in. Maybe I could borrow Bob's van."
"We'll see, Mark. But now I have to get things ready for Billie."
"Okay, Mom. I'll wash your car so Billie won't think anything's different when she arrives."
"That'll be nice, dear," Still heady and dizzy I went to my room to shower.
Perhaps it was just my imagination, but when Billie arrived, upset and angry, her long, black hair disheveled from the trip she had made from college in the Triumph Justin had bought her as a high-school graduation present, I somehow perceived that she had an inkling as to what had happened between Mark and myself. While fixing dinner, my own guilt played havoc with me. There would be no possible way she could know, yet I still perceived that somehow she had sensed something different, had perhaps picked up on my own thoughts. Often I had felt this way about Billie, that she could read my mind. That was one reason why I had had so much difficulty talking with her during the years she was growing up. Yet I knew it simply was not possible. She had her own life now. Perhaps something at school had happened which disturbed her. That, or some event that had occurred during her extra-curricular activities.
Nevertheless, I was uneasy all through dinner, aware of the tension which held her body muscles so rigid. She was an attractive young woman, but the strong set of her jaw and the way her teeth ground with her every bite made it apparent something was wrong. Mark, sitting across from her, studied her with furrowed brows.
"What's the matter, Billie?" he finally asked.
"I'll tell you later, maybe," she said, spearing another string bean with her fork, striking it against the plate so hard I was afraid it would break.
"You don't want to mention it now?" I asked, watching her shake her head while she stared at her plate. As always, I was surprised her tiny body could emanate such strong feelings of hostility. That was one of the things I could not understand about my own daughter, that, and her small size. She was very delicate, just barely five feet tall, and although her body had perfect, appropriate curves and breasts that would make many women envious, it was like she was a miniature form of the Dunlap line. For this reason, I always expected her to arrive home bringing a boyfriend who would be intrigued with the prospect of protecting her. But despite her small size, Billie was an independent young woman, insisting on doing everything herself, even down to fixing her own car. Her journalistic course she was taking at UCLA was a difficult one for a woman. No doubt, her determination, energy and drive kept the men away from her. That, and her potential for anger, which seemed ever-ready to erupt.
Why I surmised it would erupt in my direction, I couldn't quite fathom, but she was creating tension and anxiety in me, and I wanted to leave. Gathering the dishes in front of me, I got to my feet and started toward the kitchen.
"You two haven't seen one another for a while," I explained. "I'll let you talk and get caught up on what has been happening."
They stayed at the dinner table while I cleared it and began cleaning up the kitchen after I shut the door to the dining room. They were still talking by the time all the dishes were in the dishwasher, and I began washing the pans. I dried them, put them away and started back into the dining room to ask them if they wanted some ice cream. But overhearing their conversation stopped me from opening the door all the way.
"Well, if you like gals instead of guys, I guess you just like them better," Mark was saying.
"It's not gals I like, Mark, it's Betty that I like, don't you understand?"
"Yeah, I heard you, but it doesn't sound like she-likes you?"
"That's why I'm telling you this, Mark. I'm trying to figure out what happened, and I thought you could set me straight."
"Run it through again, Billie."
As I leaned against the door jamb, the door open barely a crack, my fears about Billie were confirmed. She was interested in women, not men. She had had several affairs with women, she told Mark, but not until she had met Betty had she realized what love really was. She went into graphic detail, describing the relationship from the first meeting with Betty in her creative writing course and how they became inseparable, Billie finally spending most her time in Betty's apartment. She told how close they had become and about the many nights they had spent in the same bed, making love with one another. She mentioned how they had both pledged themselves to each other, had declared their undying love, and had agreed they would live together the rest of their lives as lesbians.
"Why did ya do with one another, when you were in bed?" Mark asked, full of interest.
Billie impatiently answered him. "You know, we'd kiss, and then we'd push up against one another, you know, with our cunts, and then she'd go down on me or I'd go down on her...."
"Did ya like that?"
"Well, sure I did, so did she. Sometimes we'd 69 and other times I'd just take care of her or she'd take care of me. Then, finally, cause she wanted it, I went down to an adult book store and I bought a dildo and started using that on her."
"Was that better?"
"It was all good, Mark. Jesus, I'm trying to get some help from you about how to get her back and all you're interested in is what we did in bed. Do I have to go talk to another girl or will you help me out?"
Mark scraped the legs of his chair across the Italian tile as he moved closer to the table. "Okay, look," he said. "You went with this broad for eight months, right? You had great sex, incredible stuff from what you describe. You two became inseparable, right? Then suddenly, she doesn't want to see you anymore. You keep going by her place and see another broad that's visiting her. Next thing you know, she's spending all her time with the other gal. And you don't think they're having sex with one another? Sounds like you got aced out, Sis."
"But we were pledged to one another, Mark. She had no right...."
"You must not be telling me everything, Billie. Must have been something that happened that turned her off you. Either that, or the other gal gave her more."
"That's what I've been afraid of. I'm afraid we'll never get back. God, Mark, is that all you can do, just sit there shrugging your shoulders?"
"It's your scene, not mine, Sis. If I could help you out, I would, but the gay life is something I don't know anything about and I don't ever intend to find out about it."
"That's just great. I'm talking to my bro, trying to get your understanding and all you do is judge me."
"No way am I judging you, Billie. I got no right to do that. I've done things that aren't kosher, too."
"Yeah? I'll bet. like what?"
"Like sexing Mom."
In the ensuring silence that seemed to spread clear to eternity, I broke out in a cold sweat, yet my hands dampened and felt hot.
"What?" Billie asked, shocked. "I don't believe it."
"She told me not to tell you, and I wouldn't, except I want you to know you're not the only one who does things you shouldn't."
"What did you do with her?"
If I had ever felt inadequate, if I had ever felt sold right down the river, it was nothing in comparison to what I was now experiencing with my son telling my daughter all of the things we had done together. I would have gone into the dining room to stop the course of the conversation, but shock riveted my feet to the floor and I held my breath, hoping only that Mark would stop. But he was talking in a different tone of voice, seeming almost proud of what we had done, as if that finally made him a man who knew what he was speaking about. I also got the impression that he was not merely telling Billie about the sex he had with me so she would hold her younger brother in greater respect. It was becoming obvious that he was bragging about it, was wanting to let Billie know that being a man had its advantages. They had been competitive children, Now Mark was settling that battle that had begun and was not yet finished. The way he was talking, sounding like a young boy one minute, a teenager the next, and a near-man, the next made me realize he was also trying to make his sister jealous.
He had succeeded.
"I want to hear everything you two did together, Mark."
"It's not right for a man to discuss intimate details about the sex he has, Billie. All I'm going to say is that we did everything. I fucked her, I went down on her, and she went down on me."
"I think that's horrible."
"Naw, it was great. I don't even see Barbara anymore. That was my girlfriend before Mom caught us together. Guess mom liked the way I looked, cause she had me in her bed the very next morning."
"You came in her?"
"Course. Not right off. We did a lot of things first."
"like what, Mark?"
"like, I'd suck on her breasts till I got hard and then she'd beg me to put it in her."
"I find that hard to believe."
"You think I'd lie to you about something like that?"
Another long silence occurred and I felt like my heart was right in my throat while I waited to hear what would happen next.
"That's not right, what you, two, did, Mark. It's not right for a mom and a son to screw."
"Look who's getting judgmental now," Mark said, irritated. "You told me your greatest secret and I've told you mine. I didn't say it wasn't right for you to do what you did with another woman, even though everyone else would. Now you're telling me I did the wrong thing. That's what isn't right."
"It's different, Mark. Mom never should have permitted that. I don't like it one bit. And I'm going to tell you something else. I'm going to tell Dad. I'm going to tell him what you told me you and Mom did. And don't think that once I do, the shit isn't going to hit the fan."
"After you and I agreed we wouldn't tell anyone what we said?"
"Precisely."
"You better not, Sis. I told you that in confidence."
"That's one confidence I'm not going to keep. I feel like calling him right now."
"I'll deny it to him, I'll tell him you're lying."
"He'll know which of us is lying. You just wait, Mark."
I let the door to the dining room slide back to its closed position and quietly tiptoed out of the kitchen. I was furious with Mark for telling her, and I knew I was in a very difficult position. If Billie told Justin that, there would be no way I could keep the children when our divorce became final. Quietly going up the stairs to my bedroom, I shut and locked the door. Somehow, I had to figure a way out of this predicament. And I realized the only possible way was to take care of Billie, too.