Title: Not That Kind Of Woman Keywords: mF, mat, inc, mom, son, mdom, size Author: Caesar Summary: The lowest point in this middle-aged mothers life becomes her highest. A lady with features cherubic Was famed for her area pubic. When they asked her its size She replied in surprise, "Are you speaking of square feet, or cubic?" Not That Kind Of Woman by Caesar, copyright 2005 $Revision: 1.4 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:45 $ Waking to the pain-filled glare of the mid-morning light streaming through a crack in my blinds was not something I enjoyed experiencing. Not when my head felt twice the size and ten times as heavy as normal from the drinking I had done the night before. I do remember going out to that pub, dancing with a host of guys and generally having fun. But as is often the case in my life these last years, things became confused and eventually simply blank. I obviously made it home to my own bed, which was not always the case I admit. With stiff hands, I pulled the thick warm goose feathered duvet up to my chin and clenched my eyes tight. I knew from experience that the spinning vision would soon stop, the pain from the light decreasing to an uncomfortable roar. I was naked, I realized. Had I made my own way home last night or had someone accompanied me... again? God, please don't let some big hairy ugly guy be sleeping behind me! Again! My natural inquisitive nature did not, this time, overpower the pain and nausea to look to see if I was, indeed, alone. My sex had that familiar dullness about it, I realized with personal disappointment. So I had met and had sex with someone last night! Will I never learn? My mother was right - I would amount to nothing. Alcohol was not the best crutch but it did allow me to forget for a short while and to let go and just have fun. Unfortunately that meant I sometimes woke up with a gorilla beside me. Was that so much worse than waking up to the same man you thought you loved for nearly fifteen years, only to have him tell you that he does not love or lust after you any longer? It was a toss-up which caused me to feel more humiliated, more used. Taking a deep breath I opened my eyes enough to squint at my naturally sun-lite room. Moving my head slowly I saw that I as alone. Thank god! No awkward introductions, embarrassing revelations or simply the need to kick the stranger out of my bed and home. Clenching my eyes shut I let out a thankful sigh. There is no mistaking it, I had sex the night before but the guy must have rushed off after getting his rocks off. Again, nothing new there. Probably married as well - another loveless marriage, I thought with malicious humour. My hand slips down between my soft naked thighs and I could feel the dried evidence upon my skin and matting my public hair together. Moving the hand between the duvet and the bed sheet I feel yet more evidence, the crusty still damp areas where I had been well ploughed the night before. Lots of juices this time - we must have enjoyed ourselves. Ironic isn't it? I need to drink to have fun and then afterwards I can't even remember if I did, in fact, have fun? This time the light only hurt in the very back of my skull as I carefully opened my encrusted eyes. What a sight I must be! Not my proudest moment. Thank the maker that I was alone! With my tired eyes open I look about the very messy room as if another person lived here. The overflowing cosmetic table, the dusty full height mirror, the cluttered closet filled with years of clothing most of which fit the woman I had been ten years before. There was even a faint sent of him still in the air. Masculine, not all together as disgusting as many men that had I had woken with. The scent upon my sheets, on my pillows and even filling the air of my room was not just him I realized with a short laugh. Yes, I must have had fun last night! To be honest, most of the time that I wake with a man, I know I had simply endured and had not enjoyed. My body knows - the evidence backing it up. This morning is different - I knew why my abdominal, buttock and inner thigh muscles were slightly sore, why much of the secretions I had found so far was probably my own - I had an orgasm the night before. Possibly more than one. I wonder how that felt. I kid you not! I don't recall ever climaxing during intercourse. Not with my ex-husband that is for certain. Only time I was assured of an orgasm was with my own hand and that caused me to feel that age-old guilt that my mother had ingrained into me as a pubescent teenager. It felt nearly as humiliating as if waking next to a stranger I thought grimly. Both hands slip up beneath the duvet to my breasts and held them tenderly. Obviously they had been deliciously abused the night before, they were still sensitive to the touch! Where were my clothes? I hope I hadn't removed them in a public place again! Or given parts to some strangers, as if trophies! I had lost more panties or stockings in this way that I sometimes ask myself why bother even donning these before I step out for my nights. I still did though. Those thigh high stockings helped this old woman advertise that she still has something to offer - even if that something is well past its prime. Without embellishing, I am a softly curved forty-something year-old woman. Oh sure the legs still look good, especially in those sheer stockings and the short skirts I liked to wear. It was my breasts that caused the most attention in the guys and I must admit I teased them constantly. From the low cut clothing showing my voluptuous cleavage to dancing to music I hated only so that the guys will stare at me and my chest as it bounced wildly. Unfortunately, get my clothing off and the breasts sagged and my legs simply looked heavy - and so I had seen that repugnance in more than one male set of eyes when I woke up to my temporary nameless lovers. A Senior Account Executive by day, a trollop by night - thats me! Put a few drinks into me and I become the life of the party - the one that all the boys want to get friendly with. I hate my life. The dullness between my legs makes me think that I was shagged good and hard last night - thats the only time that my body reacts this way. Not for the first time I wished I could remember how fun it had been to be properly fucked! The creak of my old house's floorboards caused me to come out of my introspection to realize that the guy I brought home last night may not have returned to his wife after all! Definite steps coming up the stairs, slowly and carefully, moving towards my closed door. Self consciously I roll onto my back, cross my ankles and held up the duvet right beneath my chin as if a shield. My heart started to thump almost loudly in my chest as I awaited my first sight of the man that had bedded me so finely hours before. Fumbling with the old door handle, something rattling - sounds like a fork. The dear must have been making us breakfast! Now that is truly a first in my long experience with guys. The darkened brass handle of the door turns and squeaks and then the door is kicked open gently. My heart stops and my eyes widen and stop blinking. There grinning in the entrance to my room is my son Gary - wearing nothing but a tray of food in his hands and nothing else. "You're awake mom. Good!" He smirks and steps in. Oh my god! What had I done? What had we done? Was my mother right - is there a hell? If so, I am assured of that destination in the after life. My eyes see all as if in slow motion and are unconsciously drawn to the circumcised penis between Gary's legs, swinging back and forth hypnotically. Good god its beautiful! Even soft its... no wonder my vagina is dull if that had been pounding in and out of me a few hours ago! Just looking at it, I feel myself clench those inner muscle in uncontrolled excitement. My son sets the tray of food down on the floor beside my bed - it being the only clear space for it, as the dresser and cosmetic table are overflowing. And look at his ass - perfect in all respects! Another spasm between my legs... up inside me. Oh god - this can't be happening! Gary lowers down and sits at the edge of the bed and without hesitating leans over and kisses my lips. I sit silent and frozen, still stunned, shocked and even a little horrified. When his tongue slips past my unmoving lips he suddenly pulls back and makes a puckered face, "You need to brush mom." I feel myself blink, as if for the first time since my son's entrance, in response to his comment. It was spoken playfully but his action was so casually done, as if we had been intimate for years rather than... I can not even tell myself what had obviously been done between us. My eyes again look down between his thighs, that beautiful penis laying lazily along one thigh. Gary sits up and looks at me with a frown, "You don't remember do you?" Am I that transparent? My mouth opens but nothing comes out. He chuckles briefly and explains, "I thought you might forget but you promised me you would not... could not forget last night." My head is moving back and forth upon my shoulders but my open mouth is silent. This can not be happening! I am just not that kind of woman! Then my son reaches up and gently but firmly pulls the top of the duvet out of my clenching hands and to my navel. His eyes stare in appreciation at my large hangers - especially the wide hard nipples, I realize. When had then hardened? My face was heating up and I knew without a mirror to tell me, that my cheeks were turning a bright red. I take a gulp of air and hold it as both of my son's hands reach out and heft a big breast each. "You told me what I would have to do if you forgot. Do you remember that much mom?" His hands seems gentle but firm on my tender flesh, his palms warm and dry. My body responds uncontrollably yet again and I clench my thighs and try to lock my knees together as if to quench it. He smirked again, his hands making my head feel like its spinning as it had been earlier. "You told me to fuck you - even if its rape - as you would never forget at least that!" I could not help but blink at his statement - so bawdy and provocative. Was I truly that bold when drunk? Yes, if truth be told, I am that bold and more so. More than once I hard heard rumours of some of the wild things I said and did - things I would never had done sober. The fact that my son said 'rape' in the context of me, his mother, while fondling my breasts was enough for me to bite my bottom lip and moan. Gary's smile widened, "Starting to remember mom?" One of his hands abandoned a breast and pushed the duvet down to my knees - exposing me fully. I turned my head away in shame - shame for what I had done, shame that I was but a shadow of the girls Gary normally dated and shame for how excited my body was feeling at that moment. Mother's do not feel this way, do not react in this fashion right? Where had that woman that had been happily, if not blindly, married and in love? And this man that sat on the side of my bed touching me so openly, where had the son that used to shyly ask me about girls gone? We were in love - my family I mean. Or at least I was in love - been taught since a child that that is what every good girl wants and needs. If a husband wanted to have his way with your body then a good wife will let him, give him pleasure. Your own pleasure be damned. The present - my life is in a shambles. Any blind person could see that. A drunk middle-aged slut who had reached the lowest point of her life and had had intercourse with her only son! Go back to college Gary... please! I suddenly rolled out of my son's hands, away from him. But before I could escape from this incestuous bed, his large strong hands grasped my soft hip and shoved me again onto my back. He had been none too gentle. I just starred at him in shock - where had the son I loved gone? He smirked, "You want to do this the hard way do you mother?" I knew what he meant and I felt my heart thump almost painfully in my chest in fear while my sex spasmed in a totally different response. Then I caught sight of it and I gasped in response - Gary's penis was hard, thrusting boldly up from that curly brown patch of hair. It was perfect and truly the largest that I could remember. Oh god, he is going to rape me... with that! I clenched my eyes tight even as I felt his hands roughly shove my thighs wide, his lips latch upon one nipple, fingers finding and then submerging into my sex. "You're wet mom! If you can't remember, you body certainly does!" He was chuckling as his fingers roughly moved in and out of my body. He was right of course, I was more than a little wet. I could feel it coating the inside of my thighs and down to my anus. The numbness of my sex was gone as well - replaced with a low tingling Why is this happening to me? Why did I get the life that I find myself in? Gary suddenly stood, removing his hands from my body, and I opened my eyes at the unexpected loss. He moved to the edge of my bed and reached down to roughly grasp both my legs right behind the knees. As if I were a doll, my son easily dragged me over to the edge of the bed and roughly shoved my knees back to press into either side of my torso. Finally my voice appears as if out of nowhere and speaks in barely a whisper, "Don't do this Gary... I beg you!" My eyes though, are locked to that penis thrusting from my son's perfect body. Gary squatted down and I felt the soft blunt kiss of his penis against my flowered wet hot vulva. Then he paused, which caused my ass to squirm unconsciously, "You told me to do whatever it took mom." Then that perfect monster slid slowly and smoothly into me. As it moved in and began to fill me up, the like I don't recall ever feeling, my whole body, mind and soul seemed to fill with an electric cloud of excitement and love. It felt as if I were made to be the sheath to that sword. Have I ever felt so passionate in my life? I truly doubt I could have felt this way while drunk. Holding himself seated within me, my son caught and held my eye before asking, "Starting to remember now mom?" He was smirking - expecting only one answer. "Yes", I mumbled... lying. His strong hands moved up my calves to hold my slim ankles before moving his hips to begin the motion that my body was almost panicking for. When it started, I did not even try to hold back the pleasure-filled moan that escaped me - my eyes closing again, feeling only the delicious waves of pleasure rolling through my body from that place where my son and I were joined. Over the course of a handful of moments my son's movements slowly and steadily accelerated so that my own body responded in kind. I was gasping and mumbling incoherently as I was properly pounded like I had never known before in my whole life. My mind was in that sexual haze for the first time and I only distantly heard my son order me to grab my 'tits', his word, and like an automation I felt hands grasp my meaty sensitive breasts to fondle them. Gary was panting while his hips were thrusting back and forth rapidly, his hands holding my ankles as if I were bicycle handles. He was fucking me like I had never been fucked before - certainly never by his father! Words were coming out of my son's mouth that seemed to strike my erotic haze like daggers - 'cunt', 'bitch', 'slut' and even 'whore'. Rather than turn me off, I realized that I was these things - I deserved to be called these vile names. Treat me like a lady but use me like a whore one man had told me maliciously as he dressed to leave one morning. Tears leaked out of my clenched eyes. I knew that my body was awaiting my son's climax for its own orgasm, yet I feared I may go mad with lust if it was not soon! How many times had Gary's father lay between my thighs and used me for his own pleasure? Sure I enjoyed it at least some of the time - but it was never, ever, like this. It was like an out of body experience - as if I was clearly seeing myself for who I truly am and accepting it, acknowledging the faults. Then hands suddenly let go of my ankles but my legs and feet continued to wave in the air to the beat of my son's pumping hips, as he leaned forwards right above me before jumping into overdrive! My body was bouncing wildly between the mattress and my son's sweaty hot hard body. My cunt slamming into my son's pelvis, his large sex pounding in and out of my overworked hole. My juices must be running out of me like a river - I could feel a wide wet patch beneath my ass on the bed, could hear it loudly echo from my overworked sex throughout my room. How had I allowed myself to ignore my emotions these last years, to allow myself to be used by all sorts of men as if I were searching for a love I never expected to find? That love was here, now, between my legs giving and taking pleasure. I made him and I must admit, I did a damn good job! He is my son and he is fucking his old mom into sobriety and awareness. My legs wrapped around Gary's strong hard thighs, my ankles digging into his chiseled clenching buttocks. I began to shove myself up into him as he thrust downward - those sexy echoes getting louder, sharper and more insistent. My son moaning in a pleased response, leaning forwards to press his face into my neck, his warm breath tickling my flesh. "Here I come mom...!" He groaned a second before clenching every muscle in his body, his cock instantly expanded so that I felt almost stretched beyond repair. A second and then three before it happened - my own body tense in expectation. I wanted, no I needed, to feel my son ejaculate inside me. It was the height of my life, of our love. And I knew that my own body would explode in tandem with my son's. Our combined groans, screams and gasps filled my room as our sex organs pumped and clenched - the hot juices mingling rapidly. I screamed out his name as my hands clawed at his back - I thanked god and promised my son the use of my 'hot cunt' any time he wished. My god, I never felt so alive! --