Everything But the Rubber Ducky
by The Bald Clam

She was fifty-three. She was thirty pounds over-
weight. She was my mother. She was my ultimate desire.
	

I first realized I wanted to sleep with my mother when 
I was ten years old. My mother wasn't a drop-dead 
gorgeous woman, but she was very comfortable with her 
body. She wasn't an exhibitionist by any means, but 
bathroom doors were never locked when she was bathing 
or using the toilet. She never minded if one of her 
children needed to use the bathroom when she was in 
the tub; it just didn't bother her.

On this one particular day when I was ten, my mother 
was indeed lying in the bathtub, soaking her then 
forty year-old body. Arriving home from school, I ran 
into the house and straight for the bathroom. I had, 
and still do have, an unusually small bladder, so I 
wasted no time unzipping my pants as I barged into the 
bathroom. Nearly having my pre-teen cock in my hand, I 
was in for quite an eyeful when I saw my mother in all 
her glory sprawled out in the tub.

"Oh, Mom, I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling my face 
turn bright red. As many times as this happened, it 
never failed to embarrass me at least a little bit. I 
started to turn around and exit the room when she 
stopped me.

"It's fine, Martin. Do what you need to do," she 
pleaded.

Reluctantly, I moved towards the toilet and pulled 
down my pants and underwear far enough to relieve 
myself. As I did this, I glanced in the wall mirror 
opposite the bathtub. I saw my mother absent-mindedly 
squeezing water from a washcloth all over her body. 
She would occasionally splash water over her 
pleasantly abundant breasts.

I studied my mother's body. She wasn't much more than 
5'4" and maybe 125 or 130 pounds. At the time, she was 
really still in pretty good shape, having just a 
slight stomach. Her face was pretty, very Midwestern, 
which was where she was from. She had brown, slightly 
curly, shoulder-length hair that was damp from the 
bathwater. The real highlight of her body, though, was 
the immaculately groomed mound of hair above what I 
knew to be her vagina. She epitomized everything that 
woman was to me at that time.

As my mind regained its awareness, I noticed my dick 
getting erect. Having just recently discovered 
"boners", I again could feel my face redden. And I 
could not for the life of me urinate. I now 
concentrated on trying to relieve myself. I heard my 
mother, behind me, still splashing herself with water. 
I was still unable to go.

I put my hard dick back in my pants as gently as 
possible and flushed the toilet, trying to give the 
impression that I had been successful. I washed my 
hands quickly and glanced once more into the mirror at 
my mother. My dick grew even larger as I left the 
bathroom.

"Thanks Mom," I said as I exited.

"That's okay," Mom replied, continuing her relaxing 
bath.

Nothing similar to that experience ever happened 
again. My mother's habits never changed, but mine did. 
As I got older I didn't want Mom catching me ogle her 
with my eyes. And I ultimately knew it would be wrong 
to do so. But this all changed more than a dozen years 
later.

	--------------------
		

Now at 53, my mother had put on some weight over the 
last several years. I wouldn't at all call her fat, 
but she was "thick". Her hips, breasts, thighs and 
stomach had all gotten wider. Her hair now had streaks 
of gray in it and her face had acquired a few more 
lines.

I, myself, had graduated from college and entered 
graduate school, pursuing a Masters Degree in Eastern 
Philosophy (quite practical, I know). Towards the end 
of the summer between my first and second years in 
grad school, I went back home for one of my nephews' 
baptisms. It was nice to see all of my family and 
everything but I was ultimately happiest to see my 
mother. My father had passed away five years before 
and, although my siblings were still around town, I 
worried that she was lonely. Her primary focus in life 
had always been family and now she was living in the 
house all by herself.

By the time the baptism and the subsequent activities 
were over, it was nine o'clock at night. I accompanied 
my mother back to the house where I spent my 
childhood. It would be just the two of us in the house 
for the duration of my stay and that was perfectly 
acceptable with me. My mother told me she was going to 
take a bath before she went to bed. This immediately 
conjured up images in my head of that one fateful day 
when I was ten and I got erect.

As I unpacked in my room, I could hear Mom start the 
bath. The sound of water suddenly gave me the urge to 
urinate. A thought entered my mind. I wondered if my 
mother would still be as casual as she once was about 
sharing bathrooms. I figured that no one would be the 
worse if I gave it a shot.

I walked out of my room and to the bathroom door. I 
knocked.

"Yes Martin?" Mom answered.

It was a gamble, but I responded, "I'm real sorry, but 
I was just wondering if I could sneak in and relieve 
myself right quick like?" 

I succeeded: "The door's open," she said.

I opened the door and it was like I was ten again. I 
saw my nude mother, once again, lying in the bathtub. 
Her body had changed but the effect she had on me was 
the same.

"I'm sorry. I'll be quick," I told her.

She seemingly ignored me. I walked to the toilet and 
took out my hard cock, my hands shaking nervously. I 
aimed it into the toilet and nearly strained myself 
trying to piss. As I tried to urinate, I looked into 
that well-positioned mirror and saw my mother. Her 
eyes were closed, her body resting. I saw her stomach 
rise up and down and her breasts jiggle slightly as 
she breathed in and out.

Like my earlier experience, I decided to give up and 
fake my urination. I gingerly placed my dick back in 
my pants, flushed the toilet and proceeded to wash my 
hands. I was about to leave the room when a streak of 
boldness hit me. I walked to the bathtub and sat down 
on the edge. I knew my mother must have known I was 
right there, but she did not react. She just laid 
there with her eyes shut.

My eyes flew over her body. Just like I remembered, 
plus 30 or so pounds distributed nicely. Since my 
father's passing, my mother apparently hadn't been 
keeping up with her grooming as well, though. My 
mother's pubic hair was no longer immaculately 
groomed. The once small mound of hair had spread to 
twice the mass it was before. And it looked glorious 
on her body.

As I look back on it now, I have no idea what could 
have been running through my mind, but something 
possessed me to venture further. With my hands still 
nervously shaking, I reached out towards my mother's 
breasts and slowly started to caress them, fondling 
the two beauties gently. I looked at my mother's face 
for some kind of reaction: delight, disgust, fury, 
something, anything...but no reaction. I wasn't 
absolutely sure she wasn't sleeping.

At least there wasn't any resistance at this point, so 
I started moving my right hand slowly down her body. I 
continued groping her breasts with my left hand and I 
bent forward and lightly kissed one of her nipples, 
nearly falling in the tub in the process. As I did 
that, I thought I heard a slight moan slip from my 
mother's mouth. My right hand continued towards her 
cunt, only stopping to stroke her bushy mound for a 
moment.

I slowly stroked the outside of my mother's opening. I 
stuck my middle finger into her and let her cunt close 
around it as I probed inside her. It felt so warm and 
smooth and so...right. Imagining my dick where my 
finger was, I nearly came. After a few minutes of 
this, I pulled my finger out, hearing for certain a 
moan from my mother.

I stood up from the bathtub and quickly disrobed. I 
reached down at my mother's legs and lifted them as I 
slid in the bathtub under them. Letting her legs rest 
on my shoulders, I bent forward and kissed my mother's 
delicious cunt all over. Poking my tongue at her 
opening, I was finally allowed access into her body. I 
darted my tongue in and out of her repeatedly, tasting 
and inhaling her juices. I could hear consistent sighs 
escape from my mother's mouth and her body was 
rhythmically reacting to my oral ministrations.

Through this all, I was impressed with myself for not 
coming but now I needed that release. Fearing I might 
not enjoy myself fully screwing my mother in the 
bathtub, I got out of the tub. I reached into the tub 
below her body and started to lift her out of the tub 
and into my arms. I finally saw my mother's eyes open 
and a smile slowly revealed itself on her face. Still, 
though, she remained speechless.

My mother was heavier than I had expected, but, with 
her arms around my neck, I managed to carry her into 
my room and onto the bed. I laid her on her back and 
spread her legs. I then moved to hover above her, my 
arms bracing myself against the bed. Our eyes met. I 
could tell she wanted all of this as much as I did. I 
kissed her passionately, sucking on her lower lip and 
then entering her mouth with my tongue. She kissed me 
back, but the rest of her body remained almost limp.

I reached down to my jutting erection and guided it 
towards her cunt. I teased her with the tip of my dick 
for a moment before thrusting myself into her. I met 
with little resistance and I had to hold still for a 
minute for fear of spurting my cum in her right away. 
Gradually my penetrations picked up speed and I could 
feel Mom bend her knees and shift them upwards to 
better position herself for me. All the while I 
continued to kiss my mom's face and neck.

As I was about ready to come, my mother started to 
thrust her hips back at me, almost violently, and I 
knew she must be nearing orgasm as well. Several 
thrusts later, I felt spurt after spurt of semen 
evacuate my body and fill my mother's cunt. She moaned 
loudly and, finally using her hands, aggressively 
pulled my head into her breasts. After what seemed 
like several minutes, I stopped coming and Mom 
released my head from her breasts. I slowly pulled my 
deflating cock from her soppy vagina and let the rest 
of my body collapse on my mother. But I didn't move my 
head. I just let it lay there in between my mother's 
breasts as she started to stroke my hair with her 
hand.

That was the last I could remember from the previous 
night, as I woke up the next morning alone in my bed. 
I could hear my mother cooking in the kitchen. I got 
up out of bed, put some clothes on and walked to the 
kitchen.

"Good morning, Mom," I said, almost cautiously.

"Did you sleep well Martin?" she replied.

"Uh, yes," I said, "thank you very much."

I could not detect anything in her voice or her 
demeanor that was any different than usual. I sat down 
at the breakfast table and watched my mother cook. Our 
love-making session the previous night had left me not 
knowing what to do or say. I didn't know why my mother 
had let me have my way with her. I decided to play it 
cool and let her broach the subject. She never did.

I left home later that afternoon and never once did 
Mom act like anything strange had happened that 
weekend. By the way she acted I wasn't even entirely 
sure she remembered anything from the night before. We 
hugged each other goodbye like we always did, nothing 
sexual, and I walked out of the house.

This happened three months ago and it still consumes 
my every thought. I want to make love to my mother 
again and I hope if we are alone with each other 
again, I will be able to summon enough courage to make 
my move. Or, even better, maybe she will make the 
first move next time.


THE END?