LIVING WITH MOM

It's kind of a drag living with your mom when you're twenty years old. But that's the predicament I found myself in.

I'm Tony Rivers, and after graduating from high school I didn't think I was really ready for college; so I started taking classes at this community college while also working at cruddy part-time jobs here and there. I was making so little money that I wasn't able to live on my own, so I ended up staying at home. And things weren't helped by the fact that my parents split up right around this time. So my dad flew the coop, and I was left alone with Mom. And since all she did was work as a waitress at a local restaurant, mostly in the evenings, neither of us were in the lap of luxury.

I will say this for my mom: she's a fine-looking woman. I bet she got more tips just from her ample boobs and wiggling hips than most of the other waitresses at that restaurant; and she looked quite a bit younger than her forty-four years. Her name is Elizabeth, but she liked to be called Betty.

Mom was a nice, sweet, caring woman—a bit too caring, in fact. She was kind of smothering and overprotective of me, especially after Dad left and I was all she had. She kept hovering around me when I was doing homework (as if there was any way she could help with that!), and in general treated me as if I were a kid. Don't get me wrong: I loved her, but I could have used a little more space.

Things got complicated when I started getting interested in a girl at my community college named Linda, who was almost exactly the same age as me. She was kind of shy, but I like that in a girl. No guy wants a girl who comes on too strong—you know what I mean? What this meant was that it took a lot of effort for me to get Linda to, well, get cuddly. There were times when she thought that even kissing was too much for her!

Finally, one evening I persuaded her to come over to the tiny little two-bedroom house Mom and I were living in. I was convinced that something would happen: we'd been going out for about two weeks, and I'd barely managed to give her a few hugs at the end of our unsatisfying "dates." But I think she was finally starting to open up (no pun intended!), and she herself hooked arms with me as we walked back to my place. I could feel her boob brushing up against my chest as we walked—and I'm sure that was deliberate on her part!

Mom wouldn't come home until at least 11 p.m., the usual time she got off work. I figured that would give Linda and me plenty of time to do—whatever.

Even so, the moment Linda walked into the house she seemed to get all agitated. The place was so small that, the moment you entered it, you could see my bedroom and Mom's bedroom leading off of the living room. Linda's eyes got big at the mere sight of a bed. She was no dummy: she knew exactly what I had in mind!

I tried to make her feel at home by putting on some soft music on the CD player in the living room. For a while we just sat there on the couch. After about half an hour, she allowed me to put an arm around her; it took even longer for her to rest her head against my chest. I snaked my hand down from her shoulder—I could have taken hold of her left breast, but I'm sure she would have freaked out at that. Man, these timid girls! Don't they feel the urge themselves? Are they really satisfied with just rubbing themselves in the privacy of their own bedrooms?

At long, long last Linda started getting snuggly. She gazed up at me with this look that seemed to combine fear and longing. I just started kissing her lightly: women like that, don't they? Not even an open-mouthed kiss, and certainly no tongue. I think she was starting to get in the mood: she was letting out these quiet little moans and sighs, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her tits against my chest.

I actually wanted to move to my bed, but I thought that might make Linda nervous; anyway, we were really comfortable right here on the couch. So I slowly—very slowly—reached down and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

She watched my fingers as if hypnotized, but didn't try to stop me. Encouraged, I went ahead and undid the second button. Now I could see quite a bit of her cleavage, and the top part of her bra. Oh, man, I was going to ring the bell tonight!

I started kissing her more vigorously—on her cheeks and neck and throat. I even stuck my tongue into her ear: that drives women wild, believe you me! In fact, Linda burst out with a surprised squeal when I did that, but otherwise didn't try to stop me.

By now I'd undone all the buttons on her blouse, and was staring intently at those heavenly breasts (fairly large—not as large as Mom's, though!) even though they were still encased by a white bra.

Then something horrible happened.

I saw and heard Mom's car pull into the driveway.

It was unmistakable: the headlights shone through the big picture window in the living room. Who else would be parking a car in our driveway? And yet, it was only just after 10 o'clock! What the hell was Mom doing coming home so early?

Well, you can imagine Linda's reaction. She knew I lived alone with my mom, and she had no doubt who was in that car. Now almost shrieking with horror, she clutched the two sides of her blouse together, not bothering to try buttoning them up, and ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. Luckily, we hadn't turned on very many lights in the house, so Mom wouldn't have been able to see what was going on inside.

"I gotta get out of here!" she whispered at me.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said, angry and frustrated.

Luckily, we have a side door in the kitchen where you can get out if you don't want to use the front door. If that hadn't been there, Linda would probably have had to resort to the age-old practice of hiding in a closet until Mom had gone to bed. She dashed to that door, scrabbled at the knob, and got it open. With her backpack slung over one shoulder, she bolted out of the house without even saying a word or giving me a goodbye kiss.

I was fuming. This might be the end of my whole relationship—if you can call it that—with Linda. So close, and yet so far!

But I didn't stop to reflect on that. I could hear Mom making her brisk way to the front door, in those sexy high heels she made a point of wearing at the restaurant. I fled to my own bedroom, where I stripped to my underwear in a matter of seconds and slipped under the sheets. It was kind of early, but I figured that pretending to be asleep—or at least getting ready to go to sleep—was the best way I could act as if nothing unusual had happened that evening.

Mom came in, dumping her handbag on an easy chair near the front door, as she always did. She was dressed in her waitress's outfit, of course, and immediately noticed the absence of lights in the house and the fact that I was already in bed.

"Are you asleep, dear?" she called out in her high, musical voice.

"No, Mom," I muttered. "What are you doing home so soon?"

"Don't you remember? I worked late last night, so tonight I left an hour early.

Of course! What a dummy I was for forgetting that.

"It's a little early for you to go to bed, isn't it?" she went on.

"I guess."

"You're not sick, are you?" (See what I mean? Always being a bit oversolicitous.)

"No, Mom, I'm fine—just tired."

"Well, I'll look in on you after I change."

She went in to her own bedroom, and I could hear her take her clothes off. She hadn't bothered to close the door! I couldn't help thinking of what Mom looked like naked. Of course I'd never seen her that way, but given how tantalizingly close I'd come to "scoring" with Linda, my imagination was working overtime!

In a matter of minutes, Mom drifted into my bedroom, wearing her favorite nightgown. I have to say it looked spectacular on her: it only went down to about the middle of her thighs, and it also had a low-cut scoop neck that allowed me to see a lot of her cleavage. I know, I know—I'm not supposed to think of my mom that way. But at that moment I couldn't help it!

She sat down at the corner of my bed, only inches from me. She had this concerned look on her face. She peered at me keenly and said, "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom!" I said impatiently.

"You look a little feverish, dear."

There was a night-light in the room, but she went ahead and turned on the light on my nightstand to get a better look.

"You are feverish! Your face is all red!"

I didn't doubt that it was—and you can imagine how that had happened! I in fact did feel hot, but it wasn't from a fever.

Even so, Mom put the back of her hand—it felt wonderfully cool and soft—on my forehead, just as if I were a little boy. Mom, I wanted to scream, I'm a grown man! And you've just interrupted—

Well, I wouldn't have said that to her.

"You sure you're not sick?" she said intently. It was almost as if she wanted me to be sick, just so she could take care of me. That's the kind of mom she was.

"Mom, really, I'm fine. It's a warm night, you know."

She didn't seem convinced. Then, as if receiving a revelation from God, her face lit up with understanding. She gave me a knowing smile.

"I think I know what's the matter," she cooed.

And with that, she flung back the sheet and thin blanket covering me and exposed nearly my whole body to her gaze, including my boxer briefs, which were seriously distorted with a huge hard-on.

She nodded to herself. "I thought that might be it," she whispered.

I was flabbergasted. Jesus, I didn't want my mom seeing me in this condition! How embarrassing! I wanted to cover myself, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. And then, as I watched in horror, Mom calmly pulled down my briefs to my knees, and my erection popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

Her eyes widened as she saw how big my cock was. (It's between seven and eight inches long.) Then, as it actually began quivering from excitement, she looked at it almost sorrowfully and said:

"Oh, you poor thing. That looks so uncomfortable."

At first she just stared at my cock, as if it was a curious little animal that had snuck into the house. Then, as I remained petrified in a kind of combined horror and fascination, she did something a little strange: with her index finger she just stroked my cock up and down, as if gauging exactly how hard I was. This touch, slight as it was, seemed to both of us an enormously significant moment.

And then, before I could say anything or object, she bent down and stuck about half of it into her mouth.

Holy cow! Moms aren't supposed to do this to their sons, even if they're grown men! At that moment I somehow didn't feel very grown up—aside from the fact that my cock felt bigger and stiffer than it had ever done in my whole life.

"Mom," I managed to croak, "for God's sake what are you doing?"

But she paid no attention—and now something dawned on me too.

The fact is that, since Dad had left, Mom had really had almost no encounters with men. I guess she felt awkward bringing a guy over to the house when I was there, and I didn't recall her ever spending the night away from home in the past two years. I'd read somewhere that women of her age felt the urge even more strongly than when they were younger, so Mom must really have been starved for sex. And here I was, a fine, strapping young man with a big cock! Who cares if I was her son?

I'm sure I didn't. After my initial shock at what Mom was doing, I just lay back and enjoyed the sensation. She was really working that cock with her lips and tongue for all it was worth, and she was also using one hand to tickle my balls. I just love that! At times she reached all the way under me to grab my bottom. I knew lots of women like a good male butt, and Mom must have been one of them!

I thought I might explode in her mouth—and the very thought of it made me both excited and mortified. But she abruptly stopped what she was doing and stood up next to my bed.

Eyeing me fixedly, she pulled down her nightgown off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Omigod! I was seeing my mom naked!

And there was so much to see. Those breasts looked even better uncovered than they did even when she was wearing the most revealing clothing. They were really large, but still firm and high; and their nipples stuck out almost a half-inch from the surface. A thought shot through my mind: I must have suckled those nipples when I was a baby. Oh, man, did I want to get some nourishment out of them right then!

The rest of her was also fabulous. She took good care of herself, and her flat stomach and gently flaring hips and (from what I could see from this angle) tight, curvy butt were all heaven to my sight. She was one spectacular vision of ripe womanhood, and I almost cried at the thought that no man had wrapped his arms around her, or—

I couldn't believe what she did next.

She climbed up onto the bed, squatted over my thighs, took my cock in her hand, and pulled it up to a vertical position. Then she rubbed it back and forth against her bush! She had a really thick bush—and, strangely enough, the hair was curly, even though the hair on her head was mostly straight. Then she raised herself up a little bit, and—still staring right at me—stuck me into herself.

Oh, baby, what a feeling! I watched in amazement as my cock disappeared into that wet, warm pussy. Mom seemed a bit amazed too: her pupils in her eyes rolled up, and her mouth fell open and her tongue stuck out of it. I guess the two years since she'd had a man's thing in her had made her kind of tight—almost like a virgin! I almost laughed out loud at that ridiculous idea: My mom, the virgin!

I just couldn't believe she just plunged into this Oedipus routine without the least bit of concern for conventional morality. Didn't she know or care that moms aren't supposed to stick their sons' cocks into themselves? But I suppose sex deprivation is a pretty serious thing. For me, even going a few months without sex is awful—I can't even imagine going two whole years without shoving my dick into a girl.

So Mom rode me like it was going out of style. As she bounced up and down on my organ, her breasts jiggled in a way that made me stare open-mouthed at them. Sometimes she put her arms behind her head so that her tits raised themselves up even higher than usual. Other times she put her hands on my chest—but always in such a way that I could still get a good look at my thing going in and out of her.

Well, given my near-miss with Linda and the mind-blowing fact of having sex with my own mom, I knew I couldn't last very long. It was only a matter of minutes before I felt that tingling in my balls that signaled the culmination that all guys yearn for. And then I started sending long, thick streams of my come deep into Mom's pussy. She could feel them going into her, and she gave me this sweet little smile as if saying, "Good boy! You've done your duty."

I didn't think I could ever stop coming. I mean, it's not every day that you send your discharge into your mother! She herself seemed impressed. As she felt the come still pouring out of me, she raised her eyebrows and said softly to herself, "My God, so much!"

I was finally drained, feeling dizzy and exhausted. As Mom pried herself off my cock and flopped down on her back next to me, she said, "Was that nice, dear?"

"The best, Mom!" I said enthusiastically.

But I knew my work wasn't entirely done. I wasn't one of those guys who are selfishly interested only in their own pleasure. So I said, "Did you come too, Mom?"

She smiled as she gazed up at the ceiling. "Not quite, dear. I was pretty close, but I didn't quite get there."

"Can I make you come?" I said eagerly.

She looked over at me and said, "You may, dear." It was as if she'd given me permission to take another cookie from the cookie jar.

There was, in this case, an added reason why I wanted to see and feel her come. As I put my hand down between her legs, I could already sense my stuff leaking out of her. That made the reality of what I'd done hit me like a ton of bricks. But as I started stroking her, my focus was on her. I wanted to see every moment of her impending climax: the little frown that came over her face as she began feeling it coming on; the tongue that snaked out of her mouth and licked her lips; the hands that clutched the sheets as she got closer and closer to the physical and mental explosion that every orgasm brings; the moans and sighs and gasps that came from her mouth, as her breasts filled up like balloons with each intake of breath.

Then, suddenly, I knew I had to do something else.

I scooted down between her legs, so that my face was inches away from her crevice. A kind of awe overcame me as I peered at that dark cavity from which I'd emerged into life twenty years ago. It was now covered with both her wetness and mine—and I began licking it all up avidly (I'd never tasted my own come before) as I grabbed her bottom, sometimes sticking my tongue as deep into her vagina as I could, other times nuzzling her puffy labia and swelling clitoris as more of her own fluids oozed out of her.

And then she came.

I'd never seen or heard anything like it. She let out an actual scream as she tossed her head back and forth; her little hands pounded the bed; and she started bucking her hips wildly, making it hard for me to keep my mouth on her cleft. I knew from experience with other girls that women's orgasms can go on for a long time, and I was determined to give Mom one of the best she'd ever had. So I held on for dear life, clutching her butt with both hands even as her legs started quivering and her heels pounded my back in unrestrained ecstasy. After a while her paroxysm became a little less noisy, but she was still crying out—something between a wail and the high-pitched mewing of a cat—as that climax kept on going.

Finally she shoved my head away: she couldn't take it any more! I was hugely proud that I'd given her such pleasure. Maybe I'd done better than Dad!

After that we just held each other close. I didn't even think of her as "Mom" now: she was just this incredibly desirable woman whom I'd satisfied and who had satisfied me.

Then, with her body draped over mine, she looked down at me and smirked.

"Tony," she said slyly, "what's happened to you down there?"

As you can guess, I'd gotten hard again.

It's only the rare female who can do that to me—but Mom was definitely one of them! I just gave her this sheepish smile that said: Well, Mom, I can't help it.

"You want another round?" she said.

I nodded.

She pondered for a moment, then said, "We could try something else."

"You mean a different position?"

"No, not exactly." After a pause that signaled a bit of embarrassment on her part, she went on. "Would you like to go into my bottom?"

Oh, baby, would I! I'd done that only a couple of times with this one girl: so many of my bedmates (not that I'd had all that many, you understand) were annoyingly resistant to the idea of "rear entry," and one of them had actually ordered me out of her bedroom when I'd asked her about it. But here was Mom actually wanting it!

Women are funny, aren't they?

Of course I said, "You bet!"

Mom immediately got up from bed and drifted over to the bathroom, saying, "We need some lube."

She came back with a jar of cold cream in her hand. Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

"That's the lube you like?"

"Yup. It works real well."

"You mean . . . Dad?"

"Yes, your daddy did it to me a lot. I love it!"

She lubed herself up, then got back on the bed, lying face down. I got the impression she didn't like the doggie-style position, and expected me to lie right on top of her. That was fine with me—I could get a real good feel of her body that way.

As I was about to go in, she said, "Take it easy, dear—I'm a bit out of practice."

"Yes, ma'am," I couldn't help saying.

She did wince when I first went in, but pretty soon she seemed to get the hang of it. It really felt great going in that tight place, and I loved the feel of my mom's body under mine. As I started thrusting, I reached my arms around her and took hold of those fabulous boobs in each hand. I felt I had totally possessed her—and yet, in some weird way, I also felt possessed by her. She had her eyes closed, a gentle smile on her face. Sometimes she bit her lower lip after a particularly forceful thrust.

I got in pretty much all the way. I hoped that wasn't causing her discomfort, but it didn't seem to bother her. After a while she slid her hand down to her sex and began playing with herself, and I could tell that she was trying to give herself a second orgasm—timed to coincide with my own.

And that's exactly what happened. As I let out some groans that indicated my climax approaching, she rubbed herself harder to bring herself to the brink. And then I exploded in her, and she exploded with her own paroxysm. We were both shaking and trembling, as I sent my second dose of come into her rectum while she started crying out—not quite as crazily as during her first orgasm, but enough to let me know she was getting huge enjoyment out of the experience.

After we had both settled down, I remained plugged in her. I didn't want to come out!

I whispered in her ear, "I love you, Mom."

She reached back with one hand and stroked my face, saying, "I love you too, dear."

It was an experience for the ages, and I'll never forget it.

*

After that, I began sharing Mom's bed pretty regularly. We of course didn't have sex every night, especially since she would often come home from work pretty exhausted. On those nights when I just couldn't keep away from her, she was largely passive, letting me do whatever I wanted. But I made sure she got some pleasure out of it. She had Sundays and Mondays off (her restaurant was closed on Mondays), and that's when we really went to town. There were times when I came three or four times (I'd never done that with any girl of my own age)—and Mom, I think, came more than I did!

There was one night, after I'd done what I called the trifecta (I'd come in her pussy, her ass, and her mouth), when we were just lying there, Mom on top of me, tracing little circles on my chest with her finger. I could tell she wanted to say something. I hoped she wasn't getting second thoughts! I mean, you really aren't supposed to sleep with your mom, are you? But no—it was something entirely different.

"Tony," she said, sounding almost afraid to go on, "you must know a lot of guys at your school."

"A fair number, I guess," I said, having no idea what she was getting at.

"I don't suppose . . . they'd like to come over and—you know . . ."

"Come over and what, Mom?"

Now she looked me right in the face. "Come over and enjoy me?"

My jaw dropped. You could have heard a pin drop in that room.

"Don't get me wrong, dear!" she said at once. "I love what we do, and I want to keep on doing it for a long time." Under her breath she muttered, "You're a lot better than your father at this." Then, louder, she went on: "I just thought I'd like to try to tackle a bunch of guys at once."

My vision got all blurry. My mom wanted a gangbang? Who'd have believed it?

"That's what you really want?" I said incredulously.

"I thought I'd try it, just to see if I could do it. I mean, when else will I get the chance? You college boys are full of, um, spunk, and I think it would be a blast."

I'd only seen a few video clips of such things. "Um, Mom," I said dubiously, "that sounds rather strenuous—for the female, I mean."

"I'm well aware of that, dear."

"How many are we talking about here?"

"Oh, I don't know. Six or eight, maybe."

"Six or eight! All at once?"

"Well, dear," she said as if I were a dummy, "I couldn't do that many all at the same time. A woman only has three places where a man could put his thing, so the most I could do is three at once. But I'd just like to see if I could do something like that."

"And you want me to ask around?"

"Yes. Maybe you'd better not tell them it's your mom—although I guess they'll figure that out once they get here."

Her wish was my command!

Over the next week or so I approached six or seven guys about the idea. Several of them thought I was joking—you know, playing a practical joke on them. Even though I kept insisting this was really going to happen, I think they felt I'd bring them to someplace where there was in fact no woman there at all, and that would make them feel like dopes. After a lot of effort I got seven guys to agree to come over on a Sunday afternoon. I tried to keep Mom's identity a secret, just saying that there was this "lovely older woman" who wanted to be the star of the show—but I had a feeling that some of the guys figured out who I was talking about. After all, one or two of them actually knew I lived with my mother.

Sure enough, when the guys showed up on that Sunday afternoon, they were all aghast at the prospect that it was dear old Ma whom they'd be banging. But overriding even this was the more pressing question:

Is our friend Tony going to fuck his mother also, right in front of us?

I think the guys, excited as they were about getting it on with this exquisite lady, were sort of intimidated at the prospect of seeing me do my own mom. In fact, as Mom greeted them (wearing only this thin kimono, with nothing on underneath) and they began undressing in my room, they looked at me with a kind of respectful awe. I was undressing too, and so they knew that I was going to be an integral part of the event.

When they filed into my mom's bedroom (there was just enough room for all of them), they arranged themselves in a circle around the bed. Mom had taken the kimono off and was lying on her back on the bed, looking at each one of us. The guys, all naked, were devouring Mom with their eyes, taking in the beauty of her face and breasts and pussy and everything else. Their cocks were getting harder by the second.

I walked in last. My cock was hard too, and they all watched me as I climbed up onto the bed. There was this silent agreement that I would do Mom first, as a way of getting things going.

I first placed my body on top of Mom, my head between her breasts. I played with those superb globes to my heart's content, sometimes sucking on the hard nipples, other times kissing or nuzzling them all over (including on their delicate undersides). I also made sure Mom was suitably wet, putting a hand down between her legs and stroking her labia and clitoris. Then I mounted her.

It seemed the guys thought they were witnessing a sort of holy ritual. They all remained totally quiet as they watched me entering my mom. There were no cries or howls or whoops or jokes about being a "motherfucker." This moment was too sacred, and they all gazed with due reverence at what was happening in front of their eyes.

I was staring right in Mom's face, and she was staring right back. We too were silent, and I felt a particular sense of the momentousness of what we were doing. It was a public affirmation of how much my mom and I meant to each other. There was really nothing obscene about it at all.

Naturally, I couldn't hold out very long, especially with all these guys gawking at me. Within ten minutes I was shooting my seed into her, and when the guys saw that (or heard me grunting and saw my cock pulsing—they knew exactly what that meant, since they'd had the same experience many times before), a gasp went up from several of them. The completion of this act of mother-son union had happened.

I pulled out of her, my cock dripping with my own wetness and some of Mom's. As I got off the bed and walked away, there was a muttered discussion of who would be next. It was decided that the youngest guy—he had just turned eighteen a few weeks ago—should be first. His cock seemed almost painfully erect, and at first he did pretty much what I did: make love to Mom's fabulous breasts. But then he flipped her over so that he was on the bottom and she was on top; and she rode him energetically. All the guys were hypnotized by her bouncing breasts, and she looked at each guy in turn as they continued to stand around the bed.

After he was done, another guy came up and said, "Ma'am, I'd like to go into your ass."

Mom nodded and said, "Sure thing, my man." She'd already lubed herself up ahead of time, knowing that this would happen.

She got on all fours and waited for the guy to go into her. For a time he just gazed at her incredible butt and also her fig-like pussy, which was now leaking come from two different men. Then he took his cock in his hand and shoved it into her anus. It wasn't quite as big as mine, and Mom took it into herself with ease.

This guy bellowed like an ox when he came, and as he staggered off the bed, it was decided that doing Mom one at a time would take too long: the remaining five guys were just too eager to get at (and into) her. So at first, two men did her at the same time. Mom later told me she'd never actually done this, and she was just a wee bit alarmed about whether she could manage. But she passed with flying colors! One guy lay down on his back and Mom got on top of him, lying at full length on him and sticking his cock into her pussy; the other guy came up from behind and stuffed his cock into Mom's ass. They didn't quite synchronize their thrusts, but they managed to come pretty much at the same time. The guy in Mom's ass came just a few seconds before the other guy.

There were now three men who hadn't yet had Mom. They all looked at each other and nodded, as if saying: Yeah, let's do her all at once.

Mom's eyes did widen a bit as she saw all three guys climb up onto the bed. Two guys lay down on their side, with Mom between them; one went into her pussy and the other into her ass. Somehow Mom turned her face up and took the third guy's cock into her mouth. A pretty impressive act of gymnastics, if you ask me! The first two guys came first, and then the guy whom Mom was sucking pulled his cock abruptly out of her mouth and spattered his come all over her face. That struck me as a bit disrespectful, but Mom didn't seem to mind.

Mom had now done all eight guys! But if you think that was the end of it, you'd be way off.

By this time, the first guys (including myself) had revived and were keen on a second round. I got together with one of the men, and we gave Mom another session of double penetration. There then followed two more rounds of triple penetration.

All in all, Mom made us come twenty-two times. That meant that six guys had come three times (I was one of them). In fact, the two guys who'd only come twice were jeered at by the others for not being quite the studs they claimed to be.

After it was all over, everyone praised Mom to the skies ("You were great, ma'am!" "Hottest mom I've ever seen!" and other comments along that line). They all got dressed and went home, but not before Mom had extracted a promise to do this again sometime.

Mom herself took a shower to wash off all the come that was on her and in her. She came out with bright pink skin, looking fresh as a daisy.

My love and admiration for her reached new heights. But I was a little worried that she had overdone things.

"It wasn't too much for you, was it, Mom?" I said.

She gave me a rather insulted look. "Do I look as if it was too much for me?"

"No, you look fabulous. I didn't expect the guys to come back for seconds—or thirds."

"I did."

"So . . . you're not too tired?"

"Not a bit. In fact, if I'm tired at all it's from my own orgasms. You know I came a bunch of times myself, don't you?"

"Yeah, I could tell." Mom had let out her usual wild, banshee-like cries every so often—at least five or six times.

"Orgasms really take it out of a woman, I must say. For us it's a full body experience."

"So it seems."

"Next time," she said, stroking my cheek affectionately, "I'd like a few more."

"More? You can take more?"

"You bet I can!"

"How many more?"

"Let's try for an even dozen."

"I guess I can find four more guys."

"You do that."

"But they all have to be nice guys. I don't want anyone roughing you up."

"That's a good boy. I don't want to be roughed up."

We fell into a companionable silence. Mom still seemed to show no inclination to get dressed, walking around naked as if that was the ideal way to be. And I couldn't disagree with her!

"You know, Tony," she said in that sly voice that I've come to know so well, "some of the guys seem inclined to do their own moms the way they did me."

"Really?" I said, thunderstruck. "They told you that?"

"A few of them did. I tried to give them advice on the best times to do that—you know, when Mommy Dearest has just come out of the shower, or she's taking a nap wearing only a nightgown, things like that."

"That sounds good to me!"

"Tony, you need to report back to me before the next gathering of the boys. I want an update on whether these guys have carried through on their promise."

"You bet, Mom!"

So I now really had something to look forward to: all these stories about how my friends had gone home and banged their moms!