Chapter 8
Drugs and sex having gotten me through the day, I finally fell into a deep sleep about nine that night. My dreams were sweet and horny after what I had put my senses through over the day. In the last dream I recall, cocks were everywhere. I was being brought to a fitful orgasm when a shrill voice interrupted my fantasizing.
"Tina! Tina!" the voice of my mother shrieked.
What was she doing in my dream? I thought in reeling confusion. Then, when I opened my eyes, I saw that she wasn't in the dream at all. The imaginary cocks were gone and reality in the form of Mom's troubled face was looking straight at me.
The pale look of surprise on my face must have been an unspoken question, because Mom answered it. "It's all over, Tina," she said, running her fingers over my dripping brow. "You must have had a nightmare. I'm here to take care of you now."
"What about Dad?" I asked feverishly, recalling the whole purpose of pretending to be ill in the first place. "Have you called him to tell him I'm sick?"
"Yes," she said tersely. Then she added bitterly, "God only knows where he is ... or who he's with."
"But I want to see him," I sobbed, turning on the tears.
"Calm down, honey," she said, sitting down on the bed and holding me. "Before you see anyone we've got to do something about your fever. You were thrashing around in that bed like^you were having a fit."
I looked at the floor and saw that it was littered with my blankets, thrown off the bed in the fury of my wet dream.
"You're so hot and sweaty," Mom said. "You must be sicker than I'd thought."
I wondered what she'd think if she only knew what had really made my temperature rise. As it was, I wasn't about to tell her. Playing my hot-and-botheredness to the hilt, I made it seem like I was on the verge of being one of the earliest fatalities of the swine flu epidemic.
"Maybe I should rub your body with alcohol to bring down your temperature," Mom said. "That's what I used to do when you were a little girl and got a high fever."
"And then you'd give me an enema," I laughed weakly. "I remember you used to do that too."
She sat up as though I'd just given her a bright idea. "As a matter of fact, I did used to do that when you were sick," she recalled. "And my mother used to give them to me. An enema always makes you feel better when you're not up to par. Sometimes when I'm down I still give one to myself."
"But, Mom..." I started to protest, imagining that ugly old black rubber nozzle stretching from the brick-red enema bag we'd had in the family for years, smeared with Vaseline and spearing my ass. "Please don't give me an enema," I pleaded. "They hurt so bad."
I winced recalling the bursting pain from the hot, soapy water engorging my bowels and dislodging the shit clinging stubbornly to the convulsing walls of my flooded intestines.
"But then it feels so good when it's over," she soothed.
Now I remembered that aspect of it: the sudden explosion of crap and soapy water pouring from my anus like a dam was breaking in my rectum.
The gushing tidal wave of stench. The stink of my guts filling the room as my watery shit splattered against the inside of the toilet.
"Come on, Tina," Mom said. "Mother knows best. Take your nightie off and come into the bathroom so we can get to work making you feel better."
I started to refuse, but then held the words, knowing there was no way out. By pretending to be sick, I had'thrown myself at my mother's mercy. To complain now might tip her off that I really wasn't sick at all. She might never get in touch with Dad and we kids wouldn't have a chance to get them back together again. ReaUzing that the reconciliation of my parents was the most important thing in the world to me, I decided to give in and go along with whatever Mom wanted to do.
Extracting a promise from her that she would keep trying to get in touch with Dad, I dutifully stripped my clinging, sweat-drenched nightie from my... body and nakedly followed my mother into the bathroom.
"First the rubbing alcohol," she said, opening the medicine cabinet and withdrawing a large bottle from it. "I'll get you a quilt from my closet to He down on then give you a massage."
When she, left to get the quilt, I looked into the open medicine cabinet and saw the six different jars of pills the doctor had prescribed over the phone for my alleged flu. Feeling in need of some sort of lift to get through what my mother was going to do for me, I reached up and helped myself to a handful of medication. By the time Mom returned I could already feel my brain pleasantly buzzing. As soon as the drugs took full effect I would be ready for anything.
"You look better, Tina," Mom said when she came back with the heavy quilt draped over her arm.
"Just looking forward to the massage and the enema," I said, realizing that since I had taken the pills I wasn't lying at all. , "I'm so glad to hear that," she smiled.
Suddenly I couldn't wait for my mother to start rubbing the cool alcohol into my hot skin. With the help of the drugs I had even begun to anticipate the peculiar sensation of the greasy enema valve sliding between the puckering ridges of my anus and spewing its soapy fluid up my rectal canal.
Mom spread the quilt on the floor and then looked at me invitingly and said, "Now He down here on your stomach and we'll get busy making you feel much, much better."
The first slap of alcohol on my back took my breath away as Mom began working her fingers into my pliant flesh. Then my panting turned to sighing when she started to massage the liquid into my pores, stimulating nerves beneath my skin that tingled all the way down to my toes.
I had forgotten how good my mother was at this ' sort of thing. Often, seeing her around the house day after day in the role of wife and mother, I forgot that she'd been a nurse before she married Dad. It was no accident that her fingers invariably touched all the right places as she massaged further and further down my back.
When she dug into the small of my back, an electric sensation shot through the center of my body. Reflexively I parted my thighs, feeling the cheeks of my ass pull open, inadvertently exposing my pussy from the rear.
I suppose I should have been embarrassed, having my own mother see the open chasm of my developing womanhood like that. But I wasn't. The massage she was now giving to the top of my ass just felt too good for me to be concerned about anything. In addition, I was so serene from the effects of the drugs I'd taken, it didn't even bother me when my cunt suddenly became wet with its own juice.
"Lower," I moaned. "Rub me lower, Mom. It feels so good down there."
She answered by sliding her fingers into the crack of my ass. Soothingly, they rubbed the alcohol into the sensitive skin just above my puckering anus.
"Lower," I begged, wanting to feel the coolness where I was suddenly hottest.
Then, incredibly, my mother's fingers began pressing and rubbing against the pulpy button of my asshole.
"I used to have to do this when you were a little girl," Mom said, her voice mellow with nostalgia.
"You would never wash here, so I had to do it for you. I soaped you up down here many times before you got old enough to take care of your body properly. Do you remember that, honey?"
"I don't remember if I do or not," I said. "Show me how you used to do it"
"All right, honey," she said, carried away by her fond memories.
I could feel her hand slide completely between my cheeks and then press flatly against my throbbing asshole. Then she began working the palm back and forth over the sensitive anal ridges. I felt her fingertip slip between the tight sphincter muscles and, then, abruptly, my mother's finger was lodged in my ass. Suddenly I had the most divine feeling in my ass as my mother slightly bent her engorging finger and began rotating it in my constricted anal canal. A moist goo began to secrete from my rectal walls, lubricating the ever increasing depth of her penetration.
Unable to restrain myself, I let out a husky groan while she deeply reamed out my spasming asshole.
"That's the exact same noise you used to make when you were a little girl and I did this to you," Mom said. "I guess you haven't grown up so much after all, despite physical appearances."
I don't know why, but when she said that I was sure she was referring to the wispy hair growing around my cunt that she couldn't help but be looking at.
"Do you think I'll ever have as much hair down there as you, Mom?" I asked as though my spreading pubic floss had already been overtly established as the topic of conversation.
"Oh, certainly," she replied, apparently without batting an eye. "All the women on my side of the family have been exceptionally hairy down there. You should have seen your grandmother. The first time I remember seeing her naked I screamed because I thought something terrible was happening to her. I thought she had some sort of strange disease between her legs. But it was just pubic hair, jet-black and curling all over her. Don't worry, Tina, you'll have plenty."
"I hope so," I said as she slowly pulled her finger out of my ass and traced the tip along the short path to my open, foaming pussy. "I want to look just like you down there, Mom. You have a beautiful.. . well, you know."
"Pussy?" she asked with a surprising lilt in her voice.
"Yes," I acknowledged, grateful for her honesty.
"I've always been proud of it," she said. "But yours looks like it's going to put mine to shame by the time you've grown up."
"Do you really think so?"
"Oh, yes, definitely," she gushed enthusiastically, "your lips down there look so soft and pink. And even at your age the inside seems to get wet already. You may not appreciate that now, but believe me you will someday. It's so lovely right now that I can hardly keep from touching it. You don't know how proud something like this makes a girl's mother. We all want our children to turn out all right, but when something like this happens it's always a cause for joy. Just remember, Tina, no matter what happens to you in life you'll always have that jewel between your legs. You're a lucky, lucky girl."
"Would you like to touch it?" I asked, heady with the potent combination of my mother's praise and drugs.
"Very much," she said, placing her fingers gently across my spread labia.
"Oooooh, that feels so good," I sighed, unable to suppress articulating the pleasurable sensation spreading through my loins. "Rub it right there where you've got your hand."
The juice gushed from my open slit and drenched my mother's fingers as she moved them back and forth across my cunt. Even more expertly than she had massaged the rest of my body, she did her magic on my pussy. When one of her fingers began squirming across my stiff little clit, I realized that I was more turned on than I had ever been before.
Mom slid a finger inside my cunt and started working it in and out. Instinctively, I rose on my hands and knees from the floor, raising her penetrating hand within me as I spread my dripping pussy in her face.
"Your tongue," I begged, disregarding all of the shame I should have felt.
She was equally oblivious to the normal restraints between mother and daughter, immediately burying her face between my spread thighs. like a searing lance her stiff tongue shot up my pussy, instantly tickling a hidden pleasure point that made me whimper with excruciating delight.
I could hear Mom's sucking as she began wetly eating my cunt, nibbling her lips against my moist labia while she continued to fill me with her pumping tongue. A combination of her warm spit and my steaming love juice drooled from my open slit and seeped down my thighs, our own secretions replacing the alcohol which she had been smearing on my body.
Finally she rolled me over, pushing me down supine on the quilt and tightly embracing me. As her face pressed against mine, I could smell her pungent breath reeking of the moist treasure between my legs.
She kissed me, darting her pussy-sweetened tongue into my mouth all the way to my throat, gagging me with pleasure. She began rubbing my tits, going to my aroused nipples and making them harder than ever.
"You have such a beautiful, growing body," she whispered when the kiss was over. "Can you already do everything with it that a woman is supposed to?"
I knew exactly what she meant, but I wanted to hear her say it.
"Can you come yet?" she breathed hotly into my ear. "Have you ever had an orgasm? Do you play with yourself and make yourself come?"
"Show me how to do it," I begged, leading her on so she would trigger the orgasm I now craved more than anything else in the world. "Take off your clothes and show me how to do it, Mom."
In a minute my mother was naked before me. She stripped so fast that her clothing came off in a blur. Suddenly I was looking up at her intensely hairy pussy, marveling at the dark and wild tangle of her runaway pubic floss.
Then, as she lowered herself beside me on the floor by squatting, I looked straight up between her parting thighs into the red mouth of her opening cunt. I had never seen anything so wet.
She straddled my face so her pussy came down toward my mouth. Before I knew it her wet, hairy meat was caressing my lips, the folds of her cunt squashing against my mouth.
"This is the best way to come," she said as she sat on my face, completely covering me with her sopping box. "It's always best when someone does it for you. And it's best of all when two people who love each other do it to each other at the same time."
With her cunt bathing my face with its sticky juices, Mom leaned forward and placed her mouth in the well of my parted thighs. Without being completely aware of how it had all happened, I found myself sixty-nining with my mother, each of our pussies being stimulated to the ultimate by the other's nibbling lips and pushing tongue.
We both got inside the other simultaneously, cramming our stiff tongues into the gooey depths of one another's pussy. My mother's cunt had a fantastic taste, much richer and deeper than Ginny's, mind-boggling in its lush maturity. Her tongue was as hard as a cock inside me, engorging my spasming love-canal.
Her tits squashed against my belly, the hard nipples working stiffly back and forth against my flesh until they started to ooze a sticky discharge. I reached out for her exquisite breasts, squeezing them tenderly and feeling them throb in my hands.
Opening my eyes, I could see my mother's pulsing asshole staring me right in the face. I remembered all her talk about mine being so brown and dirty when I was just a child. Here she was in her late thirties and hers was as pink and delicate as a rosebud. I knew she must be terribly proud of it.
Then, as the tip of my tongue scraped against the entrance to her womb, Mom began to shudder uncontrollably on top of me. For every jerk her body took, her probing tongue matched it within my cunt. Even at fourteen I was experienced enough to know that she was coming like mad.
Just watching and feeling her come was enough to start an orgasm within me also. Naturally, her, mouth against my cunt poured gasoline on the fire, turning it into a raging inferno. Within seconds I was consumed by a long, bone-rattling, nerve-searing climax that made the ones with Ginny and Billy seem like child's play.
Rolling and writhing on the quilt, we moaned and shook, trying to make each other come as hard as we could. My tongue probed deeper and deeper into my mother's spasming pussy, while hers went even further into mine.
Then, abruptly, the pleasure turned to pain for me. I bucked on the floor in instant agony. The sharp tip of her tongue was testing my hymen, stabbing me to such an extreme that she had uncovered my deepest secret.
"You're still a virgin, aren't you darling?" she said, coming up from between my thighs and twisting her head around.
I meekly nodded, ashamed for some reason that she knew what a child I still was in some ways.
"I could taste your cherry," she smiled.
"Please don't laugh at me," I blurted.
"Don't worry," she said, crawling off my body and sitting down beside me so I had a good look at her firm breasts. "I would never make fun of a girl for waiting, especially my own daughter."
"How old were you, Mom, when you ... you know ..." I asked, losing my nerve in the middle of the question.
"When I fucked a man for the first time?" she said. "Is that what you want to know?" Somehow, the word fuck coming from her seemed sweet and nice, the kind of thing a mother should say to her young daughter as they had a heart-to-heart talk.
"Yes," I nodded my head anxiously.
"Your father was the first one," she admitted to my surprise, closing her eyes like she was trying to recapture the moment. "Oh, we were so in love then. I'll never forget that night, no matter what happens between the two of us in the future. You'd never guess it now, but he was so kind and considerate. And his cock ... his cock. Oh, Tina, it was so big and hard. When I first saw him stripped for action on our wedding night I thought his cock would kill me. And then when I had it in my cunt for the first time, I prayed that it would."
"Did it hurt when he ... he ... "
"Popped my cherry?" she finished another stumbling sentence for me. "It hurt like hell. The blood came pouring out and I thought I was dying just like I'd wanted."
"Then what happened?" I eagerly asked.
"His cum started pouring out like crazy," she gushed enthusiastically. "All of a sudden my pussy was filled with it. What a feeling it is to have your pussy filled with a man's hot sperm for the first time. It's what being a woman is all about. Don't ever forget that, Tina. I've never been able to get enough of it since."
"Is that why you and the refrigerator repairman ..."
"Yes," she boldly admitted, showing no shame. "And the gardener ... and the milkman ... and anybody else who's been willing lately."
"But, why, if you loved Dad so much?"
"He can't satisfy me anymore. I mean, when we do it I still come as hard as ever-but he isn't willing to do it with me that often anymore. He's pooping out and I'm still at my peak. Believe me, Tina, I wish it were different, but, as your mother, it's my duty to tell you that a woman is born to fuck. The older we get, the more we want it. The more we need it. If your father could still satisfy me, believe me, there would be no trouble between us."
Then I took a terrible chance. "But Billy says he's seen Dad .. . you know, doing it with another woman. The Avon lady."
Suddenly the animation slid from Mom's face. Her expression turned to stone. I had finally gone too far.
From out of nowhere her open hand flew up in my face and slapped me across the cheek.
"I... I'm sorry, Mom," I stammered, my face burning with pain from her slap and shame from having betrayed her in the middle of our intimate talk. "You don't have to feel badly," I tried to make things better. "I understand."
But we had completely lost our rapport as the result of my imprudent remark. "What could you understand at fourteen!" she snapped coldly, her whole disposition changing to seething rage.
"But... I... I... thought we were having a mother-daughter talk," I protested weakly.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said brusquely, rising to her feet.
Mom led me back to the bed when we were finished and helped me into it. Then she tucked me in as though I were a little girl again and kissed me goodnight.