All about Mom Ch. 01

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Mother is assaulted and son moves in to comfort her.
4.4k words
4.44
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Part 1 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 11/22/2016
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EdPuss
EdPuss
836 Followers

For the first 17 years of my life, my father was Big Joey and I was Little Joey. All I ever wanted was to be just like him. When he was shot and killed outside a strip joint in Chicago my mother and I didn't only have to deal with the trauma of his loss, but also with the stigma attached to the manner in which he died.

What the wagging tongues didn't know was that my father was only there with clients representing a multi-million dollar national account, who had insisted he take them to a strip bar. Or that the altercation that happened inside was with a guy who was harassing the dancers, and my father stood up and called him out on it, telling him to shut up or get out. All they knew was that after the man was kicked out for taking a swing at Big Joey, he waited outside until my father and his clients left the club and gunned him down in cold blood. Dad was a good man, a good husband, a good father, and a good provider. He was taken far too early.

When it happened, I had just started college at Baylor University in Houston, where I was born. My father, already with a wife and baby, had gotten a job in the energy business in Houston after graduating from college in his and Mom's home state of Nebraska. We moved to Denver when I was in the third grade, when my Dad got the job he always wanted, brokering energy to large corporations all over the Midwest. We grew up comfortably in Denver, and my mother received a large insurance settlement, so she had no financial worries.

Her emotional well-being, however, was a different matter. The trial was traumatic in itself, with the defense painting my father as a degenerate who hung out in strip clubs. The distance from home didn't make it any easier on my mother, who stayed in hotels in Chicago while attending the trial, listening to every lurid detail of my father's death, and the attempted murder of his good reputation as well. She was terrified, for some reason, about having to testify at the trial. Luckily, though, she was never called until the penalty phase.

I dropped out of Baylor and stayed with her, giving up my own dream of graduating from Baylor and attended University of Colorado instead, so I could be closer to my mother while she grieved and put her life back together. Boulder was close enough that I spent most weekends at home with her in Denver, and we became very close. Both of us had loved Big Joey very much, and missing him became as much a bond between us as being a mother and son was.

By the time I graduated, Mom was doing better. She had moved to a luxury condo complex and started a small marketing business from home. She was active in charity work, joined the golf club, and even worked her handicap down to an 11. Though she had dated a few times, the relationships never really went anywhere. I think she never found anyone who could fill Big Joey's shoes, so nothing ever got past the courting stage. She was a beautiful woman of 39, with large breasts and a small waist. I was her only child; she had delivered me at the age of 17, five months after she and my Dad were married, which was less than a week after their high school graduation. They had both worked while my father went to college, trading off taking care of me, so they could build a good and stable life together. I was their only child and we were as close a family unit as any I've ever known. Time had been very easy on my mother and she looked years younger than she was. Blondeand fit with large breasts. How can you beat that?

She was doing well enough when I graduated from CU that I decided I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, so I found a job in the energy business in Houston and began working on my Masters Degree at night at Baylor. Mom seemed to do fine without me, although we talked daily and Skyped every weekend. We still remained very close. She supported my decision to move to Houston in every way.

In every outcome, there is a cause and a pivot-point. The cause is usually easy to see and to understand. The pivot-point, the moment at which one decides to go one way or the other and that decision determines the eventual outcome of the situation, often is not so easily recognized.

The cause of what eventually happened between us was that my mother was assaulted in the parking garage of her condo. She pulled into the underground garage at about 9:00 at night and before she could make it to the elevator she was hit on the side of her head and dragged into the shadows. Her only saving grace was that she regained consciousness as the man was pulling her panties down and began screaming for help. He had his pants down and was ready to rape her when neighbors pulled into the garage and heard her screams The man fled, and was never captured. Had my mother still been unconscious he would only have had to wait silently while they got into the elevator, and my mother would have had the additional stigma of being a rape victim to deal with.

She really fell apart after her assault. She didn't go out, she didn't respond to clients, she barely even would talk to me. With no regrets, I quit my job in Houston and moved back to Denver and into her condo with her. She was as bad as I feared, and I had no problem putting my career on hold and being there to comfort and protect her. Other than my job and school, I had very little time left to have any kind of social life in Houston. While I longed for female companionship, I had no time for that in my life, so didn't pursue it. I found it easier to just "hook up" than to have a real relationship. I had never been really successful in the relationship department anyway. I knew I was a good-looking guy, and women often flirted with me, but over the years I had only had two girlfriends, and those didn't last that long. I just had never found the right one. The one who I thought measured up to my Mom and my Dad. I wanted what my Mom and Dad had, what Big Joey had, and I wasn't going to compromise. At 22 I felt I was no closer to a meaningful relationship than I had been at 14. I didn't dwell on it, and figured eventually I would meet "the one".

For the first month or so, we didn't leave the condo much. I shopped a couple of times a week for food, and we stayed in talking, reading, and watching TV. After that first month, Mom was starting to do better, and we started taking occasional walks and going to the movies. Every time we returned home though, no matter day or night, I had to park on the street and walk Mom into the house. Then I would search each room and lock her in the secure apartment while returning downstairs to garage the car. When I got back, she was often locked in the bathroom and would only unlock the door when I identified myself.

The first small pivot-point happened one evening while we were watching television. I was in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt and Mom was in a full length cotton nightie, our usual evening attire for watching TV. I at one end of the couch, she at the other. We were watching the entire run of the Dexter on Netflix, and during a particularly emotional scene, I heard her sniffle and looked over to see a tear running down her cheek. Not thinking much about it, I was surprised that as the show went on with other story lines, she continued to cry. Her crying intensified until I couldn't ignore it any more. When I looked over at her, she was weeping uncontrollably.

I paused the show and moving closer to her on the couch asked her what was wrong.

"What's happening to me?" she asked through her tears. "I feel like I'm frozen. I'm afraid of everything and everyone. I feel like I'm falling apart."

Leaning forward, I moved closer to her on the couch and put my arm around her. "It's okay, Mom. I don't think it's abnormal for you to feel that way." I pulled her to me and gave her a hug. "You've been through a lot, and now this. But you'll get over it. You'll be okay. I know you will."

She snuggled into me. "I don't know what I'd do without you, my Little Joey," she said. "You're the only thing holding me together right now." I pulled her back so we were leaning into the back of the couch and just held her while she whimpered.

"And I'll be here as long as you need me, Mom," I told her. "I love you. I want you to get back out there when you're ready. I'll be right by your side."

"I love you, too, Joey," she said quietly, and snuggled up to me laying her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arm around my chest. "Thank you for being here for me." She moved and kissed me on the cheek. "You're my everything."

That was the first pivot-point right there. When she was over her crying, I should have moved back to my side of the couch. Instead, I stayed where I was and we cuddled and snuggled through two more episodes.

From that evening on we snuggled and cuddled while watching TV. I would sit down and she would curl up right next to me. Mom always thanked me for comforting her. It became the norm, and I didn't see anything wrong with it. There was nothing sexual about it; at least not then. She surprised me when she was feeling better and we went out to the movies one evening. When the lights went out, she lay her head on my shoulder and put her arm across my chest. It did feel normal and natural with her, though. She was the person I loved most in the world, and I cherished the closeness with her as well.

It often reminded me of my first experiences with the opposite sex. So innocent, so pleasurable. Holding a girl's hand, putting my arm around her at the movies. Mom would even steal a kiss from me every once in a while when we cuddled. I would have my arm around her on the couch, and would be caressing her shoulder as she leaned into me and caressed my firm chest muscles. Every once in a while, she would give me a soft kiss on my cheek and tell me that she loved me and that I was making her feel happy and safe. It was tender and touching, and I loved every one of her innocent kisses.

Slowly over a couple of weeks, I began to realize that the cuddling and hugging was becoming more comfortable and more animated. We would instantly fall together on the couch as soon as we sat down, and Mom would often suddenly hug me tightly and give a satisfied little squeal of delight, and I would pull her more tightly to me and kiss the top of her head. I also noticed that we were quicker finishing dinner and doing the dishes, then up to our rooms to change into our respective lounging clothes, so we could meet on the couch for another three hours of hugging, cuddling, caressing, and occasionally kissing each other's cheeks or foreheads.

The payoff for me was that Mom was really doing better. Her old brightness was starting to reappear. She wanted to go out more to dinner and shopping, so long as I was there to protect her. She even agreed to let me park in the garage so long as I stayed right with her and walked her to the elevator. Every night we ended up on the couch watching Netflix or a rented movie, cuddling and caressing each other.

The real pivot-point happened one evening after we had been out to dinner. We had taken an Uber car, so we could have a drink or two before dinner, then wine with dinner. Mom was more upbeat and seemed happier than I had seen her in a long time. She even started talking about contacting her clients and seeing if they still wanted to do business with her. I could see that she was truly getting better and getting over it. I could even foresee a time when I might not have to be her constant 24-hour-a-day companion. It would be nice to have some personal freedom again, but I also thought to myself that I would miss her terribly when we were apart. She reinforced my feelings all through the evening. She looked beautiful, all dressed up, and she smiled often and touched my arm frequently as we talked.

Before we left the restaurant, I called our driver and we went out front to wait. Mom leaned into me and wanted me to hold her hand. "I'm cold," she said. "Keep me warm, Joey."

When the car arrived, we slipped into the back seat and Mom immediately slid over on the seat and began cuddling up to me. I put my arm around her and she just kind of melted into me. She reached up and kissed me very slowly and gently on the cheek. Then she kissed me again, and then one more time. I held her to me, enjoying the feeling of closeness with her. For a brief moment, I realized that this was a lot more like a date than a Mother/Son dinner out, but the wine and the great feeling of the moment quieted any more thoughts I had on the subject.

When we arrived home Mom said, "Why don't you get changed and make us a nightcap? I'm going to take a quick shower." I grunted in agreement and went to my room to change. I was a little buzzed and I could hear my Mom humming a song in the shower. I had a sudden picture of her in the shower, naked. I didn't reject the thought, instead I spent a moment imagining what she would look like. Her blonde hair wet, the water running over her full breasts and pink nipples down her stomach to where her legs meet. I noticed when I took off my pants that I was half hard. I laughed and thought to myself that I must be more buzzed than I thought I was. Hah! Getting turned on by imagining my mother naked!

I got into my pajama bottoms and a black V-Neck and went to the bar. I made a couple of Black Russians, using the Grey Goose that Mom liked so much, then went into the family room, sat down on the couch and clicked on the TV. The only light in the room other than the flickering glow of the television was a light on a side table in the far corner of the room. A few minutes later, Mom walked in, and I think my mouth might have dropped open at the sight of her. She usually wore a long cotton flannel night gown when we watched TV. Buttoned to her neck, roomy, and flowing shapelessly to her ankles. Tonight, though, she was in a satin nightie with straps and a neckline that showed her ample cleavage. Even in the dim light of the family room, I could see that it was form-fitting and tight around her stomach, accenting her full breasts and protruding nipples, and then flowed openly to mid-thigh.

She giggled and took her proffered drink. "I just felt like feeling pretty tonight. I had such a good time and I'm feeling so wonderful." She took a sip of her drink and giggled again. "Do you like?" she asked, twirling once, then looking me right in the eye.

I think I stuttered a few times before answering, "Yeah, Mom. You look absolutely gorgeous. I mean really stunning." That was about all I could manage because I was really stunned. I also felt my chubby coming back and was glad for the dim light, worried that she might see. She was beautiful. I mean really beautiful. I don't know why I had never noticed it before. I guess because she was just my Mom and I didn't look at her that way. But I definitely was seeing her that way now!

She sat down on the couch next to me and took another sip of her drink. "Come on, now. Bottoms up!" she said, laughing. "I want to cuddle with my cuddle toy." She leaned into me and pushed my hand holding my drink towards my face. "Come on, drinkie drinkie," she said urging me on. I took a drink, then set it on the coffee table. Mom leaned forward and put hers down next to mine.

"Let's cuddle," she said, and curled up next to me with her legs up on the couch behind her. She put her arms around my chest and leaned into me, hugging me tightly, but squishing my arm between us. "Put your arm around me," she said, leaning away and pulling my arm up and behind her head. When I was finally holding her to me, she sighed and leaned into me again.

I started watching the TV, but I was distracted as Mom snuggled and cuddled into me. I could smell her freshly washed hair, still moist from her shower. She had put on some perfume or cologne, and smelled very good. Every once in a while she would moan a little, cuddle even more into me, and place a gentle kiss on my cheek. I responded a time or two by kissing her forehead and pulling her closer. I wondered if she was wearing any panties and could almost see when she moved and her short baby-doll rode up.

Mom's semi-inebriated state and her overtly sexual attire and attitude towards me was giving me a huge erection and I worried that with her close proximity that her arm might brush against it as it stuck up, tenting my pajama bottoms. She must see it, I thought. It's less than a foot from her face and even though the light is dim, she must see it. I looked down and could see her full round breasts through the open top of her negligee. I rubbed her bare shoulders and felt its silky material sliding against my shirt as Mom snuggled and caressed my chest and arms. My cock was aching it was so hard.

Suddenly, Mom leaned away and grabbed the remote control off the arm of the couch. She clicked off the TV saying, "I don't want to watch TV tonight. Let's just cuddle." With that said, she began to lay back on the couch, pulling me down with her. My legs came up, and soon we were laying prone on the couch face to face and body to body. I tried to keep my pelvis pulled away from her, not wanting her to feel my raging cock pressed against her, but she form-fitted herself into me, hugging me, caressing my back, and burying her face in my chest, seemingly unaware of my rock-hard cock.

She began softly murmuring and moving her body against mine, hugging and caressing me. I put both arms around her and held her as she slowly moved against me. She didn't seem to be aware of my hardness and I was reminded again of my first experiences with girls. This was just like the long make-out sessions I would have with my high school girlfriend, but with no making out. My first girlfriend and I would spend hours making out for weeks before we ever went to second base, and this reminded me of that. Lots of caressing, rubbing up against each other, and moaning, just without the actual kissing.

"You make me feel so safe," Mom whispered. I felt her head move slightly, and she kissed me once on my neck. Then she snuggled her face right into the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and began kissing and gently biting my neck while continuing to move her body slowly against mine. My cock was about to explode and I instinctively pressed it against her pelvis. As soon as I did it, I regretted it, but I was surprised when I felt her push back against it. I began kissing the top of her head as she kissed, bit, and lightly sucked on my neck, and every once in a while I would press my cock against her, and she would respond.

We continued this for what must have been twenty minutes or so, and then I realized that she had fallen asleep. Too much liquor, I thought to myself. I lay there for a while waiting for my cock to go down and when it did, I woke her up gently.

"Hey, Mom," I said. "Time to go to bed." I shook her gently and she cuddled into me. "Mom!" I said a little louder. "Time for bed."

Her eyes opened and she smiled at me. "Oh, sorry!" she said. "I fell asleep!" I laughed and reached down and patted her on her satin-covered butt before getting off the couch. As I pulled my hand away, the material followed and I saw the bare, pale cheek of her ass. "Let's go," I said laughing again and pulling on her arm. "Time for some shut-eye, sleepy head!"

She got up and I went around the condo, turning out the lights. By the time I got to my bedroom, she was already in hers with the door shut. I turned out the hall light and stood for a moment in the darkness in front of her door. I wanted to go in, to climb into bed with her, take her, and make her mine. I wanted to explore every inch of her body with my lips and tongue. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to turn her into my slut, greedy for my cock. It dawned on me that I had never felt that way before. I had never wanted a woman or girl the way I wanted my mother.

EdPuss
EdPuss
836 Followers
12