A Night Away From the R.V. (Ch. 2)
by The Bald Clam

Mom casually tore off a few sheets of toilet paper and 
proceeded to wipe herself clean.  Even in my tired, 
dazed state, I couldn't help but notice the aroma from 
the toilet that was spreading throughout the bathroom.  
Suddenly nauseous from the smell and the slow 
realization of the previous several minutes' acts, I 
jumped up from the floor and stumbled towards my 
bedroom, leaving my mother sitting on the toilet.  
Before entering my room, I took a quick glance at Ed, 
still passed out on the couch.
	
Closing the door and collapsing on my bed, the room 
darkened by the night outside, my head started to spin 
as I felt my heart pounding hard inside my body.  I 
didn't even know where to begin to focus my thoughts, 
my own world forever changed from the day before.  I 
lost track of time as synapses sparked throughout me.  
Then, jolting me back to my new reality, there was a 
knock on my door.

"Uh, yes," I answered nervously.
	
"Honey," replied my mother from the other side of the 
door, "the pizza guy is here and I don't have any 
money to pay him."  For not the first time that 
evening, I was almost flabbergasted by my mom's 
ability to cut to the chase, ignoring the more 
prominent issues at hand.  Nevertheless, I thought, 
the pizza guy did indeed need to be paid.

I got up from my bed and walked to the door, my legs 
wobbly and my hands shaky as I reached for the 
doorknob and opened it up.  My mother, dressed once 
again, was at the door.  She greeted me with a 
surprisingly un-insinuating smile, dulled by her 
still-glazed eyes.  As I passed her, heading towards 
the door to my apartment to pay the pizza guy, I 
thought perhaps our way of dealing with our earlier 
actions would simply be to say nothing of them.  After 
all, we did not see each other very often and were not 
especially close anymore.  Yes, I thought, the right 
mode of action would be to pretend nothing happened--
say nothing of, well, the blowjob she gave me.

"Seventeen fifty five, man," the awkward young man 
with my pizza told me as I approached the door.

Giving him a twenty, "Keep the change," I said.  Then, 
after handing me the pizza, he walked away, neglecting 
to thank me for the tip.  On my way back to the living 
room, I walked through the kitchen, setting the pizza 
on the table.  About ready to invite my mother into 
the kitchen, I once again noticed her absence.  I 
looked to the bathroom, but the door was open and the 
light turned off; she wasn't in there.  Then I looked 
to my bedroom.  I thought I could see her bare, two 
weeks' worth of stubble, slightly plump legs on my 
bed.  I moved towards my room slowly, nervousness 
infiltrating my stomach.  As I reached the doorway, I 
saw my mother, completely naked, head propped up by a 
few pillows with her legs slightly spread and arched.  
She just stared at me.

I stood there, in the doorway, for a moment, having 
decided conversation was not the strong point of the 
relationship my mother and I had with each other.  She 
was unlike any woman I ever had fantasies about 
before.  She wasn't anywhere near the supermodels in 
my fantasies, or my fianc‚ for that matter.  She was 
plump--there's no other way to put it--she had some 
rolls on her belly and her legs and arms were thick.  
And she wasn't exactly clean-looking.  She had hairy 
armpits, as I had discovered before, and the 
aforementioned stubble on her legs and, the most 
shocking part, the most massive bush growing around 
her cunt, nearly reaching her belly button.  The 
carpet certainly matched the drapes, as her pubic hair 
was graced with the graying hairs that sprinkled her 
hair on her head.  Though I had caught a glimpse of it 
earlier in the bathroom, having her spread out 
completely nude on my bed really awakened me to just 
how glorious a bush it really was.  Yet, again, it 
looked as though she maybe hadn't washed for awhile.  
The hair, from my vantage point then, looked almost 
matted down in places, perhaps courtesy of Ed 
adventures to her nether regions.  Never did anything 
close to resembling my mother's appearance enter my 
erotic fantasies, but then, as before, my dick was 
hard as a rock.

After what must have been minutes just ogling her 
body, my eyes returned to her face where they met with 
her eyes once again.  Still simply gazing at me, she 
finally lowered them to her crotch.  As I followed 
them, I saw her spread her legs more and then look 
back at me.  Wordless, she held out her arms to me.  
In seconds, I had all of my clothes off again, my 
erection jutting out from my body.  I walked quickly 
to my mother, her arms still outstretched and fell on 
to her.  As she held me to her, I began to kiss her 
lips, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts.  I wanted 
to enter her very badly but, but the softness of her 
body, minus her somewhat scratchy legs, was too much 
for me to neglect; I had put my lips and tongue on 
every part of her.  She responded in moans to various 
degrees, but mostly she just caressed the back of my 
body as I ventured my way down her own body.

Scooting myself further down the bed and as I neared 
her crotch, I, of course, ran into her massive mound 
of pubic hair.  I ran my nose and mouth through it, 
taking in her scent.  My previous suspicions about Ed 
being responsible for some of the bushy mess were 
correct--I distinctly smelled and felt the stiffness 
of dry cum in her bush.  Instead of being appalled, 
though, like my logic told me to be, I became even 
more aroused, smelling numerous other aromas, too, 
that on any other day would have made me sick.  
Running my tongue down the rest of her to her pussy, 
it finally entered her which, upon contact, made her 
thrust her hips violently upward, nearly making me 
bite my own tongue.  I lapped aggressively at her 
cunt, tasting indescribable juices mixed with urine, 
sweat and God knows what else.  She became wetter and 
wetter by the moment, her juices coating my chin and 
cheeks, and continued moaning louder and louder, 
slamming my face into her with her hands.  Finally, 
she came, her spasmodic body and breathing slowing 
down to a more restful mode.

As she was catching her breath, I did the same, slowly 
licking her bush up and down--almost cat-like--
cleansing her of her own juices and mess.  While doing 
this, I had a moment of inspiration.  Raising my to 
look in her eyes, I smiled, as did she.  Then I slowly 
lifted her legs, my hands grabbing her by the thighs, 
and folded them towards her stomach.  In that 
position, I looked down at her pale, fleshy ass and in 
between her somewhat hairy butt cheeks.  Taking my 
non-verbal cue, she held her own legs to herself and I 
dove my face in between her ass cheeks, spreading them 
with my hands.  There were smells, some reminiscent of 
those just an hour or so earlier, but I didn't care.  
I felt depraved; there was nothing I wanted to do more 
at that time than lick and eat out my own mother's 
ass.  As my tongue darted in and around her sphincter, 
my mother actually screamed, surely waking any 
sleeping neighbors, I thought, but apparently not Ed.  
Her body shook.  For I don't know how long, I was a 
mad man, using my oral skills to the best of my 
ability to please my mom.  Up and down the crevice of 
her ass, tasting, surely, her remnant shit and 
whatever else may have come out of that orifice.  
Finally, exhausted, I let up, her screaming and 
shaking coming to an end, and I collapsed at the foot 
of the bed.

We were both breathing extremely heavy.  In a more 
rational state of mind, I got up and closed the 
bedroom door, hoping to at least drown out a bit any 
future noises that could awaken Ed, though I took a 
quick peek at him and wasn't even sure if he was still 
alive as he laid there on the couch.  I looked at my 
mom as I returned to the bed and for the first time 
since I saw her naked on my bed, she spoke.

"Fuck me," she said quietly, her voice a bit unsteady 
from her still-heavy breathing.

Climbing on top of her, my dick slid into her cunt 
nicely.  She didn't feel like any of the number of 
twenty- or thirty-somethings I had fucked before.  
They always felt so fragile under me when I was inside 
them.  Mom's cunt fit around me so perfectly I nearly 
came upon entrance.  Having given birth to four kids 
and fucked however many guys, I had expected her to be 
so loose.  She wasn't tight by any means, but she 
really knew how to use her cunt, slowly, warmly 
milking my cock as I stroked inside of her.  
Admittedly tired from my oral services, as surely was 
she, we took our fucking nice and slow.  I leisurely 
kissed her upper body as I rhythmically pumped her, my 
hands caressing, alternately, her breasts or her face.  
She held on to my ass, pushing me into her, 
occasionally slipping one of her fingers in between my 
cheeks and into my hole, an incredibly erotic 
sensation that nearly triggered an orgasm each time 
she did it.

I came twice in her.  Momentarily feeling spent after 
shooting my wad the first time, my cock deflated in 
her, almost plopping out, but her cunt lips grabbed 
the head of my cock and refused to let me leave, 
quickly encouraging another erection as I slid deep 
back into her cum-filled pussy.  We must have screwed 
in this manner for an hour and a half, a strange, 
somehow beautiful, wordless fuck.  After I came the 
second time, I pulled out of her and laid down next to 
her.  Holding her plump body to my own, the warmth it 
exuded quickly put me to sleep.

I awoke the next morning alone.  At first thinking it 
had all been a dream, though that theory was quickly 
put to rest as the soreness of my dick and the fuck 
scent of the room came to my attention.  I got out of 
bed, putting on a robe and went to the living room.  
The only sign of my mom or Ed was the empty beer cans.  
I looked around the apartment a little longer, though 
it's not too big, and all I found was the uneaten 
pizza from the night before.  Then, I noticed a 
message on the answering machine.  Pushing the button, 
it was my mom's voice:

"Thanks for letting us stay last night, honey.  We 
left so early we didn't want to wake you up.  I'll 
talk to you soon.  Bye."

I've talked to my mom since that night a few times, 
but never does the topic of our fucking come up.  It's 
something I would certainly like to partake in again 
should the opportunity arise, but, I guess, the way we 
have simply chosen to deal with those events is simply 
to ignore them when we speak.  However, for me, it has 
become impossible to make love to my fianc‚ without 
imagining that it is my mother below or on top of me.

THE END