Rewriting Us

We went on like that, discussing our story when we were able to slow ourselves back down. The whole business of talking about creating a hot story while we made love thrilled my mother. At first I thought it was an odd thing of hers that I was willing to put up with in order to keep meeting her between the sheets. As we made love, though, I couldn't help seeing the fun we were having together as we grabbed and pulled at one another's bodies. It was sex and making love, but it was also play and sharing and thinking together. As I warmed to Mom's way of love, it didn't take long for me to get a thrill out of it. It was exciting how we were talking about a story and about ourselves and each other at the same time. Before the inevitable orgasm and the final snuggling in for the night, I was hooked.

We agreed to rename Ken with a name closer to mine. Donovan's 'Ken" would become "Kevin." We figured that the early version's mother, Irene, and the neighbor, Jan, should be one character. The new mother character's name would be a mix. Mother, "Irene," and the neighbor, "Jan," would become "Janine." Maybe we'd throw in a girlfriend to keep it spicy.

It was at god-knows-what hour. I was holding my mother's sweaty body to mine, and I realized that my clever plan hadn't worked as expected. I thought the story would help me divine enough clues to figure out how to seduce my mom. But it hadn't worked out like that. Working together on an Autumn/Spring romance had primed her to be open to the idea. We may well have fallen into each other's arms even if it hadn't been so much about us.

Sure, I'd learned about what she likes and applied them, but what brought her lips to mine at the picnic wasn't my suave moves. It wasn't Bono's surprise appearance either. Our shared activity had Mom thinking about romance in some disjointed connection with me. It had her mulling the question "What is sexy?" and thoughts about how her own grown son was now a sexual being with sexual thoughts and ideas about romance. Hell, the story guided her to work with me hand-in-hand to create an impossible and sexy romance. It drove her to create a story with me that bent the usual rules of social acceptability. The activity had tipped her thinking, rewritten her image of me as a man and my possible roles in her life; it had rewritten us!

***

I wrote earlier that no one can know the future, and that is true. I will tell you a little about how the immediate future of that night went. When we awoke, I kept my promise: I stretched her anus around my shaft, and brought her to screaming orgasm after howling orgasm after bellowing orgasm.

We headed to the shower to clean up, and Mom kept her promise, and let me eat her candy while my jizz oozed out of her gaping asshole. The water washed away all but Mom's weepy gasps of pleasure.

We didn't even make it back to the bedroom. She bent over to towel off her calves, and I mounted her from behind. She grabbed on tight to the sink, and just moaned as I reamed her cunt with my pole.

I'd cum pretty hard from ass-fucking her before the shower, so cramming her with dick from behind - though it was thrilling - wasn't going to get me off.

I told her she wasn't ready for breakfast, yet, and directed her to my bedroom. She climbed onto all fours on my bed, and we picked up where we'd left off in the bathroom. Droplets of water sprang from her perfect ass cheeks each time they impacted my hips. I kept plowing my mother until the water was gone, but both of us had soaked thighs covered in mommy juice.

She turned to me eventually and told me she was getting dizzy. "You've gotta give me that protein, Donovan. Put it in my womb or put it in my tummy. But give it to Momma already." I lay her on her back, let my rod slide into her throat, and bent over her hard body to eat her pussy in the first of many sixty-nines.

Mom got fed.

We went to the kitchen, ate. Then we went to the living room couch to work up an appetite for lunch.

The whole day went pretty much like that. The week almost the same, though I had to attend my classes.

The future beyond? That's another story we were bound to write and, no doubt, rewrite.

THE END (really this time)

I must acknowledge the following influences:

The idea for this story came largely from a blog post by DirtyMindedMom about a mom-son story being rejected by a site that publishes step-mom-step-son stories. She railed about how the later sort of story is just a watered-down "safe" version of what we publish in this sub-section of Literotica. Like other pieces she has written, this left me thinking about the themes we explore in these stories. This lead to the idea of how a watered-down version of what you want can be used subversively to pursue what you want.

The piece by SusanJillParker referenced in the story is real, and a compelling read all the way through. In addition to being one of the most prolific and well liked authors on this site, she is also a fascinating human being and well worth reading.

All while writing the picnic scene in this story I had the Fourth of July picnic scene in CPBaudelaire's epic "Beyond the Borderline" in my brain. It's a great story, and one I happily recommend.

Thanks so much for your patience and interest to read even these lines. Please vote and comment with honesty and consideration. I will try to reply as often and as best I can.

Best wishes!

OnlyFiction