Mom's Dying Wish

"Yes." I wrapped an arm around her. She grabbed my hand and placed it upon her breast. "Make love to me, Johnny." I kissed the nape of her neck and her back arched. I lifted her leg and slid my hard cock into her. "Ohhhhhhhh," she sighed upon penetration. I began to move slowly in and out of her. I wasn't in a hurry to cum, and she seemed content with the pace I had set. Problem was, though, that I was still jazzed from last night, but that really didn't matter. I came in her in about ten minutes, but I kept on going another thirty until I came again. By the time I was done, Mom was all smiles. She looked back, pulled my mouth to hers, and we kissed another ten minutes before getting out of the bed.

Over breakfast, I asked, "Is it wrong that the value of my love for you has changed?"

"I was wondering the same about mine for you," she said in way of response. "You are my son, and I love you, but ..."

"Go ahead, Mom," I said when she did not immediately finish her sentence.

"I'm falling in love with you, I think. Is that wrong, Johnny?"

"I'm already there, Mom, and I'm not ashamed of it."

She bent toward me and we began to kiss. I made to pull back after a few seconds, but for some reason committed myself to more. After a few minutes, Mom said, "Take me to the bedroom." I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the bed, kissing her all the way. We removed our clothing, then Mom had me lie down so she could mount me. It was slow and exquisite and beautiful. Once it was over, we lay together for the better part of an hour with no words passing between us.

At dinner, Mom announced, "I want nothing but oral tonight, and lots of it. Think you can oblige me that?"

"I'll give you as much as you can stand," I answered. After Matlock went off at ten, we went to our separate bathrooms to bathe. Once again, I was waiting for Mom when she came out of her shower, much to her appreciation.

She crawled onto the bed, stuck her ass high into the air, and said, "Will you lick it again like you did before, Johnny? It felt so good when you licked it last time."

I positioned myself behind her and parted her fleshy ass cheeks. I then slowly ran my tongue around her rectum. Mom cooed with pleasure as my tongue slowly lavished her most private of regions. Oh, her asshole was a thing of beauty. It was tender, but not too wrinkled; it still had a light pink color to it; and it was every bit as sensitive as her clit. I remember glancing at the clock before I began, and the time was 10:38. It was now going on 12:15. I had been eating Mom's ass for over an hour and a half, and she and I were so into it that we lost all track of time.

I finally moved down and ran my tongue into her slit from behind and was immediately blessed with a mouthful of her sweet, syrupy cum. I ate her pussy like that for a good hour, then she called me off not because she had had enough, but because she now wanted to do a sixty-nine. Hey, great for me. I lay down and she climbed atop me. I pulled her sweet, sweet pussy to my mouth and sucked her clit, moving my tongue in circular motions around it at an excruciatingly slow speed; she was literally dripping cum into my mouth, my treat for a job well done.

My penis remained untouched for the better part of thirty minutes, so entrenched had she become in my special treatment of her pussy, but finally she bit the bullet and took me into her mouth. Mom sucked my cock oh-so slowly, savoring every inch of it as it filled her mouth and throat. She sucked me just like that for I don't knowhow long, but I finally shot a massive load into her mouth. She swallowed every savory drop of it, then collapsed on me.

I helped her turn around where she was lying in my arms, her head on my chest. "I love you," Mom said to me. She fell asleep shortly after.

The remainder of the week was spent making preparations for the fish fry on Saturday. Bill Cummings had volunteered to do the cooking—he was everyone's go-to guy, he assured me—and the Renfroe twins, Abigail and Annabelle, volunteered for food prep, "Just as long as you aren't serving any mullet." I assured them it was all bass and catfish. Mom was to make the hushpuppies, and of course the cheese grits were on me. Perfect cheese grits are so simple to make: Water, grits, butter, salt, pepper, cheese. Why people add milk or sugar or anything else is beyond me.

Leading up to Saturday, Mom's and my days were filled with continuing our inventory of her belongings while our nights were filled with making love. She had not once stepped foot back into the guest room since I fucked her silly. I guess she purged herself of whatever guilt must have harbored itself over the years. Regardless, I was glad to see that monkey off her back so that we could concentrate on other things.

The fish fry went as well as it could have. All who were invited did attend, so we were able to handle everything all at once instead of in increments. Mom passed her items out to her friends, after which she announced that she was dying. Shock, disbelief, and even a little mayhem ensued as some could not accept the fact that she would not be here this time next year. With the help of Ray Underwood, the pastor at Mom's church, we got things under control. Mom told everyone in attendance that if they wished to spend time with her to say their final good-byes that they should do so over the next few months, because once she really started withering away, she was cutting off all contact with everyone. This announcement was met with more tumult, but she stood her ground. We both knew there would be some backlash to this once she stopped seeing anyone, but we were of the mind that what mattered most were her feelings, not theirs.

About four months total from the time I moved in ... Do you know how you see something, the same thing, every single day, and it changes so gradually that you never notice it at first, and then it's like BAM!! and you see the change? That's how it was with Mom. One morning over breakfast I couldn't help but notice that she looked like she had lost about ten pounds and gained fifteen years. I didn't say anything, of course. I never would, unless she brought it up, and then I would be as tactful about it as I possibly could.

Although she did not say anything immediately, she must have discerned that I was aware of the change. Her ribs were showing, but sex had begun to take a different turn. No longer was she asking me to fuck her. It was all sweet and loving, which was fine with me, and more and more of it involved Mom on her back and me mounting her or performing oral sex with her lying down. She still hungrily craved sex, it's just that she was having to make accommodations for her declining health.

It wasn't until the fifth month that I finally said something, and Mom had no recourse but to address things. I told her of my commitment to her and to this, her dying wish, yet I cautioned her and reminded her that I would never ask anything of her that she was not willing to freely give. She appreciated that, and we lay together the entirety of the afternoon making slow, sweet love. That evening, I brought her dinner in bed, and as we ate I reminded her, "The kids will be here in a few days."

"Oh, really? What for? Weren't they here just a few weeks ago?"

And there it was, the first sign of memory loss. The first sign of Alzheimer's, maybe? I didn't know, but I knew I needed to tell Benny and Kaitlyn what to expect before they arrived. After Mom went to sleep I stepped onto the back porch and did a conference call. "Yeah, it's getting pretty bad," I told them. This would be the perfect time to cover my tracks, so I took advantage of it. "She sometimes calls me by my dad's name and wonders why we don't sleep in the same bed anymore."

"Oh, Daddy. I'm so sorry to hear that," Kaitlyn said.

"Just last week she came up behind me and kissed me on the neck and told me that sex was wonderful," I added.

"Whoa, Dad. I can't even imagine what must be going through your mind right now."

"What's going through my mind is that about ninety-seven percent of the time she is herself, lucid, aware of what's going on around her, so I don't treat her differently," I said in way of a response. "I am expecting the same from the two of you. Do not patronize her. Just treat her as you always would." They assured me they would, and then we moved onto other things.

The kids spent a solid week with us. At one point, Mom asked Kaitlyn three days in a row when she got to the house, thinking that Kaitlyn had just arrived. At another, she referred to me as my children's' Grandpa, and at another still she called Benny by my name. The kids were great, though. They never acknowledged her wrongness, but they did not make her feel like a fool, either. Very respectful.

As they were leaving, Benny said, "If it becomes too much, Dad, just call me or Kaitlyn, or both of us even, and we'll be here to help." Kaitlyn echoed her brother's sentiments, and I hugged and kissed them both as they returned to their lives.

By month eight, Mom had stopped taking visitors with exception to Reverend Underwood. We had called all her friends for one final visit, and from there on she was severing ties with them. It was a deeply emotional evening, and yes, even I cried. After everyone left, I put Mom to bed and watched ... well, nothing. I mean, the TV was on, but I couldn't tell you what was playing. I had just begun the first stages of preparing myself for Mom's death. I thought I had been doing so all along, but in reality I hadn't, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

By month ten, Mom had withered away to almost nothing. Still, on one storm-filled night, after I had tended to her needs she said, "One last time, Johnny? Just for the hell of it?"

I didn't want to, and not because I may have been repulsed by her appearance, because that wasn't the case at all. No, it was because frail as she appeared, I was afraid I would somehow hurt her. Still, she was insistent, so I got behind her, gently lifted her leg, and carefully inserted my erect penis into the only pussy I had known for the past ten months, and it was wonderful to be back home. I slowly rocked back and fourth. I didn't realize it until after I was done, but she had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of it.

Two weeks later, Mom was dead.

I loved her enough that I gave her her dying wish.