Something to Be Thankful For
by The Bald Clam


The potential for disaster was great, but such is the 
risk in seducing one's own mother.


THE BEGINNING

As a child-and through my teen years-I don't believe 
my mother was the object of my friends' fantasies as 
their mothers were mine.  My mother was, well, just a 
lot more motherly than their mothers.  She didn't have 
a nice tight body with ample breasts that she readily 
displayed in skimpy bathing suits as did my friend 
Jim's mom.  Nor did she have a rumored reputation of 
boffing school chums of her son as my friend Chad's 
mom had.  To be sure, those two women, among others, 
were masturbation fantasies for myself and many others 
around school, but never once in my formative years 
did I think about my own mother in that manner.  
Obviously, though, I wouldn't be writing this story if 
my feelings about her had not changed.

To be honest, my mother is not a cosmetically 
beautiful woman.  She stands at just a few inches past 
five feet and, in recent years, has added some 
thickness around her thighs and hips and all that lies 
between.  She's always been somewhat flat in the chest 
and whatever perkiness there once was in that area has 
long since departed.  She has fair skin accented by 
numerous freckles on her face and body, typical of 
those bestowed with the color of red hair she 
possesses.  She is now just past fifty years of age, a 
fact that is affirmed by a few more lines on her face 
and a smattering of gray hairs on her head.

In my physical description of my mother, I am simply 
being truthful.  What that description lacks is how 
wonderful of a mother (and now grandmother) she has 
been to her children.  I am the middle child, 
sandwiched between two sisters.  My mother and father 
met in high school, dated for a couple of years and, 
then, married shortly after their graduation.  My 
father was a hard worker, beginning as a blue-collar 
laborer for the railroad before moving into the 
administrative offices of the railroad later in his 
career.  Unfortunately, he passed away several ago, 
not long after my youngest sister graduated from high 
school.  Mom was lonely at first, of course, as all of 
her children were now out of the house she raised them 
in.  However, my oldest sister had her first child-a 
girl-not long after my father's death and my mother 
soon found herself with a new generation of our family 
to care for.  My sisters and I are all spread out 
across the country (and away from Mom), so my mother 
found herself away from her own home much of the time, 
caring for my older sister's children (yes, she had 
more) and then my younger sister's kids as she, 
herself, got into the breeding game.  We all see each 
other during the holidays two or three times a year 
and we keep in touch by phone and written 
correspondence as much as we can, too.  In short, 
despite being spread throughout the country-or maybe 
because of it-we have remained a close family.

In my late twenties now, I have remained single 
despite watching both my older and younger sisters 
marry and start families.  With a few of my friends 
from college I started a small, city-wide arts review 
magazine.  We review local theatrical productions, 
film, local authors, etc.  The pay is admittedly poor, 
but it does give me easy access to all of these 
events, which helps my dating life.  My sex life in 
college, alternately, involved screwing the best 
looking girl I could find or, occasionally, whomever I 
could find.  I'm no Don Juan by any means, but I was 
able to hook-up with some very attractive women.  On 
other occasions, I hooked-up with some not so 
desirable women-women I'm probably lucky I didn't 
contract something from.  Anyway, in the last couple 
of years, I have tried to get serious about the girls 
I have been seeing.  There have been a series of 
rather plain, but extremely good-hearted and kind, 
women who I have spent a few to several months with 
each.  Despite my own good intentions, I found that I 
cannot ultimately take the relationships to the next 
step when that next step is needed.  I became 
increasingly more contemplative about this problem of 
mine and the girls I have been in relationships with 
and came to a conclusion: They are not my mom.

It seemed so obvious now.  The girls shared so many 
things with my mom-their looks, their general 
personality-but they were not my mom.  She was 
obviously what I wanted all of these years, I just 
didn't know it.  I began to think about her at night, 
her pale, wide thighs, her ample ass, her small 
breasts which I knew I could almost get my whole mouth 
around.  I stopped dating other women and became 
solely focused on my mother.  Thanksgiving was just a 
month away and I thought about how I would seduce her 
every night as I stroked myself to sleep.


COMING HOME

I arrived home-my mother's house where I grew up-on 
the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving.  
Unfortunately, my sisters and their families had 
arrived before me, so as I walked through the door, I 
was inundated with hugs from nieces and nephews, all 
of them shouting, "Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex!" until 
their respective parents pulled them from me.  I 
greeted both of my sisters and their husbands warmly 
before noticing the absence of my mother.

"Where's Mom?" I asked my older sister.

"In the kitchen getting food ready for tomorrow," she 
said.  "You should go in and see her, she'll be so 
happy you're here."

I walked through the living and dining rooms and 
peered into the kitchen, just as my mother had bent 
over to pull something out of the refrigerator.  She 
was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, her customary 
loungewear over the past few years.  Her sweat pants 
fit like a glove on her thick thighs and round, bubbly 
butt.  I was tempted to rip them down her body right 
then and take her from behind.  This was the dichotomy 
of my mind at that moment: wanting to make nice, sweet 
love to my mother, but also wanting to passionately 
and hardly penetrate every last one of her orifices.

Finally finishing in the refrigerator, my mother stood 
up and noticed me in the doorway.

"Oh, honey, come here," she said, but fortunately, due 
to the tent pole that had developed in my pants which 
I was trying to conceal by slightly bending over, she 
came to me first.  We embraced tightly for a minute, 
my erection pressing into her stomach.  She had to 
notice, but didn't say anything.  I lowered my head 
and slightly sniffed her red, but graying, hair.  It 
smelled of the lilac-scented shampoo she had used for 
as long as I could remember-it was heaven.  Still 
holding each other by the arms, we drew apart and 
looked at each other.  A huge smile filled nearly all 
of her freckled face, which I then held as I moved my 
lips towards hers.  Though I tried not to make the 
kiss any longer than our usual greetings, it had much 
more significance to me since the realization I wanted 
to bed my mother.  She tasted so good to me-like, 
well, home-cooking-as I let my lips suck just a little 
bit around her lower lip before I relented to my 
better judgment and moved away from her face.

Starting to tear up a bit, she said: "It's so nice to 
have you here with your sisters.  I know it has only 
been a few months since I saw you, but it always seems 
like so much longer.  How long can you stay?"

As long as it takes to screw the rest of the red out 
of your hair, I was thinking, but instead said: "My 
schedule's somewhat flexible through the weekend."

The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful, 
sexually speaking.  My mother spent most of the time 
with my nieces and nephews, doting on them, as my 
sisters and their husbands and I caught up with each 
other since the last time we had spoken.  As I talked 
with them, I kept an eye on my mother as she bent down 
to play with my nephew or got on all fours to chase my 
nieces around.  Trying to keep my mind focused on the 
conversations, I was also struggling with trying not 
to shoot a huge load of cum in my own pants while 
watching my mom and thinking about what I wanted to do 
with her.

The evening, alas, came to a close and the adults all 
went upstairs to our respective rooms while the 
children slept on the floor in the living room.  If it 
had not been for the presence of the rest of my family 
in the house, I may have become adventurous and 
attempted my seduction that night, but, not knowing 
the results of an attempt, I played it safe and just 
jerked off in my old bed that night, thinking about my 
mother.  The irony of doing the same fifteen years ago 
while thinking about my friends' mothers did not 
escape me.


THANKSGIVING

I awoke early the next morning.  I thought I heard 
some racket coming from the kitchen downstairs.  
Putting on a robe to cover up my only-boxers-clad-
body, I opened the door to my room and crept down the 
stairs.  Being careful not to wake my nieces and 
nephews on the floor of the living room, whose sleep 
appeared to be uninhibited from the noise in the 
kitchen, I followed the noise through the dining room 
and found my mother, in her nightgown, furthering 
preparations for our Thanksgiving dinner.

Again she didn't notice my presence at first, so I got 
to ogle her short, stout body as she bent over and 
reached and bent over again before she turned around 
to greet me.

"I hope I didn't wake you up," she said in a hushed 
tone.

"No," I lied, "not at all.  Can I help with anything 
in here?"

"I think I got it under control," she replied, "but 
you can keep me company if you want."

"Of course," I said, taking a seat on a stool by the 
breakfast bar.  We talked, steadily but quietly, as 
she prepared our dinner, myself adding the term 
"stuffing the turkey" to my sexual euphemisms list.  
We talked about all things, about her activities, 
about mine.  She was especially interested in my 
dating life.  Wanting to be completely honest, I told 
her about all of the girls I had been seeing recently.

"The problem is, Mom," I said, "none of them hold a 
candle to you."

She blushed as she continued to prepare the stuffing.  
"That's sweet, Alex," she replied, then said nothing 
more.

Not wanting to press my luck too much, we moved on to 
different areas of conversation, all the while I was 
thinking about walking over to her, crawling under her 
nightgown and smothering my face into her fat, juicy 
snatch-the place from where I exited to the outside 
world.  Letting my imagination fill my cock with blood 
again, it was quickly diminished with the appearance 
of two of my nieces greeting my mother and I in the 
kitchen.  My mom dropped what she was doing and ran to 
hug them immediately.  The love this woman exuded made 
me want her even more.

Thanksgiving dinner tasted wonderful, of course, as we 
all gorged ourselves with the food.  The conversation 
between all of us, though, was getting redundant-there 
really is only so much people can talk about.  My 
sisters even began throwing a few sharp comments back 
and forth at each other, a sign that maybe our family 
was about to part ways again.  I was actually quite 
happy about this turn of events as I knew I would have 
my mother to myself much sooner.  And, so it was, 
towards the end of the afternoon, each of my sisters, 
though parting with love and kindness, decided to 
leave with their families and head home.  My mother 
was sad, especially to see her grandchildren leave, 
but she was somewhat consoled by me saying I would 
stay until at least tomorrow.  The tearful goodbyes 
were said and my mother and I were now alone.

After they left, my mother, who had been wearing jeans 
and a blouse for the day, casually un-tucked her 
blouse from her jeans and let out a loud sigh.

"Are you as tired as I am?" she asked me.

"I am," I said, "Why don't I help you with cleaning 
the mess in the dining room and kitchen?"

"It can wait for a bit," she said, "let's just relax 
for a little while before we tackle that."

Joining her as she sat down on the couch, sinking way 
back, her ass almost off the cushions completely, I 
sat closer to her than I normally would have.  As I 
did, she unbuttoned her pants and let out another 
sigh, signaling her clothes were a bit tight for her 
at the moment, after eating all day.  I desperately 
wanted to ease into this more than I was going to, 
wanting to wait a little longer after my sisters left, 
but I couldn't resist anymore.  I was going to make my 
first move.

"Mom," I said, scooting closer to her, my arm resting 
on the top of the couch, "you know I really meant it 
when I said none of the girls I've been dating could 
hold a candle to you."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes closed, arms resting 
to each side of her body.

Continuing, I said: "I don't think I could ever love 
any of them as much as I do you."

She opened her eyes and looked into my own.  I placed 
my hand on her lap and slowly began to unzip her 
pants, all the while looking into her eyes.  At first 
I thought it was going to be an easy conquest but 
then, suddenly, I saw fear in her eyes and she grabbed 
my hand and pushed it away from her.

"What were you thinking, Alex?" she said, each word 
louder than the previous one.  She stood up.  "I am 
your mother," she said, "that is absolutely wrong to 
even think about!"

The anger in her voice caught me way off guard; it was 
something I hadn't heard is years.  The only thing 
could sputter out was, "Sorry."

"Did you want to have sex with me?" she asked.  "Is 
that what you wanted?"

"I love you, Mom," I pleaded, "I can't even look at 
you anymore without thinking about entering your body, 
feeling your juices.  I want you.  I want you.  I want 
you."  I was hoping the mantra-like statement at the 
end would have some effect on her.

"That is absolutely wrong, Alex," she yelled, 
"Absolutely wrong.  Do you have any idea what the 
ramifications of something like that could be, never 
mind the moral issues.  It could destroy our family.  
You might decide that after we did it, you couldn't 
stand to look at me.  Or vice versa.  What if your 
sisters found out?  All of this besides the fact it's 
just plain wrong-you're my son."

"None of that would happen, Mom," I tried to reason, 
"I love you, you love me, what else is necessary?  
Some lovers don't even have that much."

There was a silence in the room for a moment.  She was 
contemplating what I had said and I thought I may have 
won her over, but then she spoke: "Maybe it would be 
best if you left early tomorrow morning.  Maybe if we 
don't see each other for a while we can forget some of 
this.  If not, for the sake of your sisters and their 
families, we'll just have to pretend it didn't happen.  
At the moment, though, I'm too angry to foresee that 
time.  I'm going to go clean up in the kitchen, why 
don't you go to your room."

She was heading towards the kitchen when she turned 
around and said, half scornful-half amused, "I can't 
believe you're almost 30 and I have to tell you to go 
to your room."

Nevertheless, after collecting my thoughts a bit, I 
did go to my room, flopping myself down onto my bed.  
I wasn't sure what bothered me more: that my mom 
turned me down or that my mom was angry.  I realized 
that the seduction of your mother was something you 
just can't really practice.  As many times as I had 
run through the scene in my head previously, it never 
turned out as horribly as it had in reality.

I ran through everything that had happened over and 
over again in my head.  For two or three hours I 
replayed the scene.  Sometime around 7:30 or 8:00, I 
must have fallen asleep.


THEN...

I wasn't immediately sure if it was a dream or not.  
My eyes felt partially crusted shut, perhaps from a 
few tears I had shed before falling asleep.  I thought 
I heard something or somebody in the room, but I 
didn't open my eyes.  I felt something else on the 
bed.  Then I felt my pants being unbuttoned and 
unzipped before being pulled off of my legs-then my 
underwear.  Then I felt somebody crawl onto my body, 
pulling my shirt off of me.  I wanted it so badly to 
be my mother, but I didn't dare open my eyes for fear 
of it being a dream-or somebody else.  As my shirt was 
being pulled off, I felt the warmth of cunt emanating 
next to my rigid cock.  The smell of pussy in the room 
was unmistakable.

After being completely disrobed, I felt my new lover 
push herself up above me.  Then, grasping my cock, she 
lowered herself onto me, guiding my erection into her 
pussy.  Taking me in all at once, she moaned loudly.  
There was no immediate movement.  My cock was totally 
engulfed by snatch-a wet, gripping snatch.  I enjoyed 
the sensation, breathing heavily, trying to calm 
myself.  I had to be sure it wasn't just a dream.  I 
opened my eyes:  My mother, tears staining her 
freckled cheeks, looked straight into my eyes.

I quickly took in the scene.  The room was darkened by 
night, but the moonlight seemed to be shining directly 
on my mother and I on the bed.  She was sitting on me, 
her thick, creamy thighs on either side of my own.  
Her red wiry bush was brushing against my own pubic 
hair.  She had just a slight paunch leading up to her 
tiny tits, about the size of oranges, but sagging 
slightly.  I immediately wished I had a view of her 
round, pale ass, but I had to be patient and enjoy 
what I was getting at that moment.  She continued to 
look at my face.

"Do you still love me?" she asked tearfully.

"Of course I do," I replied, pulling her to me as her 
cunt remained gripping my cock.  I kissed her face and 
neck all over, eventually slipping my tongue into her 
mouth, which she greeted with a suck.  All the while, 
she was crying; I, myself, tasting the salt from her 
tears as I kissed and licked.

"It's okay, Mom," I said, "It's okay."  She began to 
cry more but at the same time she started to ride my 
cock a bit, moving up and down in rhythm with her 
sobs.  I held her face out above me and looked at her 
carefully, she picking up the rhythm on my cock even 
more.  She smiled at me and I knew then that they were 
tears of joy.  This got me hot and I began to try to 
match her rhythm with my own thrusts.  Mom ceased 
crying and began moaning a bit more.

Continuing our fucking, we switched positions a bit, 
as I sat up more in bed and she wrapped her legs 
around me.  This gave me better access to her tits, 
which, until now, I had neglected.  As Mom leaned 
back, pushing herself into me, I leaned forward and 
placed my wide open mouth around one of her breasts, 
suckling hard and loud on her tit.  Doing this made 
Mom buck harder and harder and I could tell she was 
about to come.  Fortunately, I was ready, too.

She became louder and louder, riding me faster and 
faster, until I felt even more hot juices fill around 
my cock.  This caused me to spasm and I began to shoot 
wad after wad deep into my own mother.  Looking down 
at where I had entered her, I saw our mixed juices 
flowing out of her pussy and onto the base of my cock 
and balls, drenching both of our now matted-pubes.  We 
held onto each other for several minutes, kissing and 
catching our breaths.  My cock had regained some of 
its hardness, but Mom fell off of me and onto the bed.  
I fell next to her and held her close to me, running 
my hands over her entire backside, caressing her 
gently.  She felt my hard cock poking at her stomach 
and reached between us to grab it.

Mom slowly started to jerk me off, her fingers 
exploring every inch of my cock.  Still caressing her 
backside, I kneaded her two big ass cheeks with my 
hands.  Feeling adventurous, I inched my index finger 
ever so closer to her asscrack.  Then, I slowly eased 
my finger into her bunghole, which was greeted with a 
quick moan.  As she continued to jerk me off, I 
fingered her asshole, feeling her sphincter trying to 
milk my finger.  When she picked up the pace on my 
cock, I picked up the pace with my finger.  Soon we 
were both moaning again, ready to come.  As she 
clenched down hard on my finger with her sphincter, I 
began to squirt cum all over the both of us, landing 
on each of our stomachs.  Her sucking asshole released 
my finger and we fell asleep holding each other, 
almost stuck to each other with my drying cum 
connecting us.


THE MORNING AFTER

I awoke alone yet sure that what happened the night 
before was not a dream.  Flakes of my own semen coated 
my abdomen.  My dick was a little sore, but hard.  I 
heard the familiar sound of cupboards shutting and 
pans knocking against each other come from the 
kitchen.  Not bothering to put any clothes on, I 
walked downstairs, my erection wagging in front of me 
every step of the way.

As before, my first sight of my mother was her 
slightly bent over the kitchen counter.  Unlike me, 
she had taken the time to put on clothes, wearing her 
glove-tight sweat pants and T-shirt.  I watched her 
carefully as she appeared to be mixing something up in 
a large bowl.  Focused on her plump ass, it appeared 
as though she wasn't wearing any panties, her camel's 
toe quite apparent.

Quietly as possible, I snuck up behind her, my cock 
leading the way.  As I neared her body, she still 
hadn't heard my movement over the noises of her 
quickly mixing the contents of the bowl.  Without any 
warning, I quickly yanked her sweat pants down to her 
knees and entered her pussy in nearly one motion.  She 
let out a blood-curdling scream, partly out of fear, I 
think, but also because of the lack of lubrication as 
I thrust into her-a miscalculation on my part.  The 
mix in the bowl spilled all over her front side and 
onto the floor.

Fortunately I didn't start pounding into her 
recklessly.  Still fully inside her, she looked back 
over her shoulder, confirming that the person who had 
penetrated her was indeed her son.  Regaining her 
composure, but still clearly in discomfort, she began 
to move her ass a bit, wriggling my cock around inside 
of her.

"Alex, you have to be careful," she scolded me, "I'm 
not some co-ed who's sopping wet all the time-though 
having you inside me helps-and you nearly gave me a 
heart attack."

I started thrusting in her ever so slightly as her 
lovely cunt began to moisten.  Bracing herself against 
the kitchen counter with her arms, she began grunt as 
I sped up my tempo.  Leaning against her, I reached 
under her T-shirt and found her breasts.  Fitting 
nicely into each of my hands, I squeezed them hard, 
making my mother moan harder.  Giving me a non-verbal 
clue, she reached behind her head with one of her 
hands and pulled her hair back, revealing her bare 
neck.  I quickly began kissing and sucking on the back 
of her neck and her ears, which she seemed to enjoy as 
much as anything.

Having expended a couple of loads of semen the night 
before, I could have held out for a long time if I had 
chosen to do so.  However, taking my own mother from 
behind like this-in the kitchen-was too much for me.  
I wanted to shoot my wad badly, so I began pounding 
her so hard, my dick nearly leaving her pussy each 
time I pulled back.  I pounded away on her cunt for a 
couple of more minutes, each thrust producing a little 
scream in my mother that may have been induced as much 
by pain as it was pleasure.  I couldn't help myself, 
though.  What was nice, relatively sweet, lovemaking 
the night before, was replaced by pure lust this 
morning.  Finally, I came, once again filling her 
milking tunnel with my cum.

Both catching our breaths, my weight almost entirely 
on my mother, my cock quickly shrunk and as she 
straightened her body a bit, it plopped out of her now 
gaping hole.  I collapsed on the floor.

"Alex, honey," my mother said, "that was a fucking."  
She smiled at me lovingly and I returned a smile.  Cum 
draining from her hole, she slipped out of her sweat 
pants, though she kept her T-shirt on.  Seeing my 
naked body lying on the floor, wilting cock and all, 
she joined me, on all fours, and bowed her head down 
to my cock, taking it into her mouth.

"One more time before breakfast," she mumbled, her 
mouth full with dick.


THE ENDING (OR JUST THE BEGINNING?)

My mother and I spent the majority of the rest of the 
weekend making love.  It truly was love.  We were 
completely comfortable with each other so there was no 
bullshit.  A few times we made long, slow love, 
holding each other while sharing each other's sexual 
fluids over hours at a time.  On other occasions, we 
fucked hard, banging each other to the point of 
exhaustion.  The exciting part of all of this was that 
we both wanted the same thing at the same time.

As Sunday neared its end, it was a sad realization 
that I was going to have to leave to go home-Mom would 
be alone once more.  As we were saying our goodbyes, I 
had a marvelous epiphany.

"Listen, Mom," I said, "You're away from home so much 
anyway, taking care of the grandkids, why don't you 
just get rid of the house here and stay with me when 
you're not with them.  You're only here half the year 
anyway.  What do you think?"

"Are you serious?" she asked, tears starting to flow 
from her eyes.

"Of course I am," I said, "Move in with me.  Nobody 
will think anything of it.  We'll just say it's best 
for both of us economically for the time being."

Hugging me close to her, she answered, "Thank you."

While final details have not been worked out 
completely, our tentative plans are to have her move 
into my house.  My sisters think it's a little strange 
I would want her to live with me, but ultimately 
they're also thankful she's won't be alone.  As for 
myself, it was not an act of pity on my part.  I truly 
want her to live with me.  She's my mother, but now, 
more importantly, she my lover.

...The End