Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an351140@anon.penet.fi (MrNatural)
Date: Thu, 13 Jun 1996 16:01:32 UTC
Subject: Taking Care of Mom (MF,inc)

			  Taking Care Of Mom

	I am writing this the morning after one of the most bizarre
sexual encounters I've ever had in my life. I'm still not sure if I
did right or wrong, only that I've never been so completely satisfied
in my life and if my conscience has a voice in this, he must still be
asleep. The only thing that worries me is what I'm going to do tonight
- am I going back for more? Maybe you should tell me.

	But first, I'm in my mid-thirties and I'm a successful enough
guy. I've been running my own company for years now, a business I
inherited from my father who died back in the early 1980's. I was a
kid when I got hold of the thing, basically, and I'm proud of what
I've done to take care of my mother and family. I was divorced about
two years ago from a frigid alcoholic who used sex as a weapon - or
the promise of it, anyway. Since my divorce I've dated a few women
but, frankly, I haven't really had sex in all that time (unless you
count an active porno-film rental account). I'm a good looking guy, I
guess, but most of the women I meet are in bars and they look as if
they're looking to be somebody's wife (which I don't want right now)
or they've done everybody in the place and, after all, there are
dangers to that, too!

	I have always taken care of my mom. She's in her late 60's now
and looks awfully damn good - still carries herself well with short
pixie hair, class and, I should mention, a pair of breasts that (to
quote Raymond Chandler) would stampede a business-man's lunch. My dad
was much older than her - 20+ years - and when his health began to
fade they decided to go live in a retirement village. My mom, being
younger, was about the last person you'd think of to camp with a bunch
of geezers, but she loved my dad and wanted to stay close to him and
he needed the structured environment to stay oriented. By the time my
father had died, my mom felt so much a part of the community that she
decided to stay, even though she had the money to go and live
independently.

	Their place isn't some kind of dingy nursing home - far from
it. My folks had bucks, and so the place is out in the country amidst
hills and trees, very restful, and consists of a whole hillside of
grouped fourplex apartments around a health spa and community center.
There's a kind of mini-hospital there, too, in case some of the
residents need a little short term health care. The Alzheimer's unit
where my dad passed away is down the hill.

	I call my mom every day, of course, and stop by when I can.
I've got my own key to her two bedroom apartment in case there's some
kind of emergency or something I have to get in. Yesterday late
afternoon I happened to be in the neighborhood on business and I
dropped by, ringing on the bell. There was no answer, and I saw her
car outside and knew she should be there. I rang again and there was
no answer. I knew it was too late for lunch and thought she might be
taking a nap. I should have walked off, but I couldn't - I had the
funny feeling something might be wrong.

	I took out my key and slipped inside. There was music playing
on the stereo - some old Frank Sinatra torch songs that she loves. I
crossed the large living room and got to the hallway before I heard
the noises. Something was definitely wrong - I could hear her making
terrible noises from her room and my first thought was that she'd had
some kind of stroke!

	My heart kicked into overdrive and I hurried down the hall,
pushing open the door.

	It was a stroke, all right.

	But she was doing the stroke on some old guy's cock!

	My mother was curled up in the bed wearing a plum colored
teddy-bear type nightgown cut low enough to show an ample view of
those hooters I was talking about earlier. The old guy was wearing a
grey exercise sweatshirt and his pants were down around the ankles
where I saw clean, white running shoes. His cock - which was some
accomplishment - was firmly in my mom's hand. He had his hand up under
her nightgown and his fingers must have been working pretty
efficiently to make her scream and moan like she'd been doing.

	They both looked up at me in astonishment. The old man's
hardon wilted like bad flowers and my mother quickly pulled the covers
up.

	"What's this???" I asked. I shouted it out, largely because I
was still freaked from thinking my mom was in some kind of, well,
medical emergency.

	The old guy got to his feet, nearly tripping, and quickly
pulled up his pants. "Later, Liz," he said, and then hurried past me.

	When the door had closed behind him I looked at my mom in
disbelief. "What are you doing?" I managed.

	"What are YOU doing?" she asked. "Sneaking in on your mother?"

	"I wasn't sneaking. I was checking on you," I said. "Who was
that guy?"

	"Abe Prescott," she said. "His wife is over in the Alzheimer's
unit."

	"He must be a hundred."

	"He's eighty. And he's been so sad because his wife's been
gone from the apartment for six months. He just needed a little, well,
cheering up. I said I'd help take care of him."

	"I don't believe this." I sat on the corner of the bed and
shook my head. "Are there others?"

	She shrugged.

	"How many?"

	She shrugged again.

	"Mom, are you nuts?"

	"No, I'm not. I'm a woman. I've always liked older men - men
like your father. Why do you think I wanted to stay here after he
died? This is heaven."

	My head was spinning.

	"And what about you?" she said in a quiet voice. "Are you any
different than these men?"

	I wasn't sure what she meant.

	"I mean, are you so, well, satisfied? It looks to me as if
you've been without a woman longer than they have!" She was right. My
face went bright red which made my mother giggle.

	"Is it that obvious?" I stammered.

	"Yes," she said, and opened her arms wide. "Come here a
minute."

	Maybe she did that because she was frustrated at having been
interrupted before she'd had a chance to finish up with her friend.
Maybe she opened her arms like that, her full breasts swaying gently
beneath the plum colored satin, because she'd always wanted to have
me. And me? Well, I know why I leaned forward into her arms. I'd
always been attracted to my mom sexually, from the very earliest times
in my childhood. She would walk around in her bra and panties without
embarrassment when I was a kid. She always had a body - small but
tight and compact - and I thought she was far better than the pictures
I'd seen in my buddy's magazines. I leaned forward into her arms
because I wasn't any different than her "friends" that she took care
of - I had been without the feel of a woman for far too long and my
mom was definitely a woman - warm, soft, loving, full breasted...

	I practically fell forward and felt her arms go around me as I
had so many times in my life - but this time it was different. I
continued falling forward and she allowed me to kiss her - but this
was very, very different, too. It was as a mother, yes, but now as a
lover. Our lips met - hers were full and soft - and I felt the charge
of her tongue on mine. My cock responded immediately, rising, and I
felt those breasts flatten out against my chest.

	We slid down in the bed until I was beside her, and then she
spread her legs slightly and I rolled over on top of my own mother! It
was a perfect fit, and as we passionately kissed, our tongues racing
around each other, I reached down and put a hand on her breast. How
many times had I wanted to do that!!!! The nipple was evident through
the satin, hard and erect. I managed to get the spaghetti straps down
her shoulder on one side and a breast came out - pale and marked with
the gentlest of stretch marks. Her nipple was dark and large, and I
pulled my lips from hers and began sucking and licking, trying to keep
some control. I wanted to draw her entire warm breast up into my mouth
but I knew in the back of my feverish mind I wanted to be a good
lover, not just a lover.

	I flicked at my mom's nipple. I gently put my teeth on it and
closed, lightly pulling. She moaned, her long fingers rubbing circles
on my back. Her legs opened wider and she bucked, allowing me to
enjoy the taste of her tit...

	I sat up, suddenly, and she pulled wildly at my shirt, sending
buttons everywhere. I took hold of her nightgown and tore it from her
body, and the sound of the sheer fabric tearing was enough to send my
cock into a spasm of stiffness and desire. I fell down - or she pulled
me down - and the skin of my bare chest met her hot skin with nothing
between us. The nipples seemed to burn a hole in me, and I felt her
fumbling with my belt.

	In a moment, she had my pants down and my cock felt the
incredible sensation of her fingers as they wrapped around it. I
looked down and saw those fingers expertly moving, dancing along my
shaft. I followed it to the wrist, up the arm, to the shoulder, and
then to the face of my own mother, tightened in wild passion.

	I've always had a thing for older women - maybe inherited from
my mother's version of it, her love for older men. Here was the
perfect older woman - horny, beautiful, her body marked with enough of
the touch of time and age to be exciting to me, her breasts sagging
just enough and pliant enough to jiggle seductively with every move,
her ass rounded and full, her need for a man evident in the wetness of
her cunt. It shocked me to see it, but she was shaved perfectly bare
and in spite of her age she seemed to have the pussy of young girl.

	My brain was on fire. My cockhead was purple with passion. I
moved along her stomach and reached the source of her heat - the
source of my own birth. I began to lap at her hairless cunt, the lips
full and folded back like the petals of a flower. The fragrance was
sweet and intoxicating and I began to lick faster, my tongue working
up into my mom's pussy and flicking at her clit.

	"Oh god!" she screamed. "How do you know how to do that????
The older men... they're so ready to cum... they don't want... they
don't want... "

	Her words were cut off by another scream and she began to pant
and strain. I felt her entire body tighten as if compacting down
around a center bordered by her fine, hairless little girl cunt. She
jerked wildly, holding my head in place. I looked up and saw her milky
white tits wobbling wickedly from side to side, nipples pointing
straight out.

	"I'm cummmming," she screamed. "You want your mommy to
come????"

	"All over my face," I managed. "I want your juice all over my
face... "

	She drifted off into that place where women go right before
they come, someplace that seems to far away as if listening to a
distant sound. Then she began to shake and to drive her pussy harder
against my face. I felt the warm juices covering my tongue and lips
and heard her scream and scream again.

	With one massive quake she was done, and a few aftershocks
followed as I flicked at her clit for the pure joy of feeling her
shiver.

	"Nobody has loved me like that," she said, panting. "Nobody.
Ever." She was fighting for breath and then managed to recover enough
to say, "You made your mommy feel sooooo good... but it's my turn,
now... "

	With that, she...