Rich's Mum Ch. 02: Conclusion

He was reduced, again, to the role of spectator. His own cock seemed obscenely huge between his legs but it remained untended and his frustration grew as one after one of the men around Priscilla ejaculated on her skin, leaving their mark on her while his semen surged and roiled in his balls and his cock strained futilely at the empty air.

And then someone was beside him, grasping his engorged member with a small, delicate hand. It was not Priscilla.

"Oh, Mark..."

Angie. Angie in the lacey, lilac underwear he had seen her wear once. The first time they'd done it in her bedroom, mother and father out for the night, last minute A-level revision forgotten on her desk. She had smiled shyly then and all the reasons that he had loved her came flooding back to him now.

She stroked him gently, tenderly, her touch a million miles away from the brutal pounding of Priscilla that was taking place just a few feet away from them. But he couldn't look away from it. A thick, swollen cock sawed in and out of Priscilla's cunt, before withdrawing to spill its seed over her tight abdomen, ropes of semen that caught the light briefly before plunging to her skin below. The cunt it had left was ravaged, gaping, the tunnel shape that the cock had imprinted upon Priscilla's flesh yawning obscenely, invitingly.

Angie's hand was on his face, tender. So tender.

"Mark..."

He felt the lace-encased flesh of her breasts pushing against his arm. He sighed.

He couldn't look away as another cock, long, black and thick-veined thrust its way into Priscilla and then his view was obscured by a dark-skinned muscular body, sweat glistening like tiny diamonds on its blackness, meaty buttocks tensing as the body thrust, thrust, thrust into Priscilla's insatiable cunt.

"Mark..."

With great difficulty, Mark turned his head to look at Angie, to see something very much like love glittering in her eyes. Gently she took hold of his hand and brought it up to cup her left breast, to feel its weight, its softness, through the lace. Almost automatically, his thumb sought and rubbed her nipple underneath the delicate fabric. She smiled again.

"I love you," she whispered and bent forward to kiss him...

And on the bed, his cock encased in the slick, satin folds of Priscilla's night dress, Mark climaxed in a series of violent, enervating releases that left him weak and lethargic. Tossing the soiled garment to one side, he crawled back under the covers and fell into a deep, uneasy sleep.

*****

He woke up.

The edges of the curtains glowed with light and the air was warm and welcoming. He was erect and the need to relieve his strained bladder was overwhelming.

Still naked, he padded down the landing towards the bathroom. The door was open. The tiles were cold on his bare feet and he shivered slightly, despite the heat coming from the bathtub.

Someone had run a bath. Priscilla, he thought, as he stood over the toilet and relieved himself. The white froth of bubble bath, the peach-coloured, scented soap waiting in its porcelain dish on the side of the tub... this was a bath to soak in, to luxuriate in.

Priscilla.

His stomach lurched sourly.

Priscilla.

He remembered the touch of her lips on his skin; his mouth began to salivate as, unbidden, an echo of her taste flooded his mouth.

His erection had not entirely subsided after his visit to the toilet. He stroked it idly, thinking.

Priscilla.

Shutting the door quietly behind him, he moved to Rich's bedroom - also empty, he saw - and began to pack his bag.

*****

"You're up!" Priscilla smiled brightly at him. "Just in time for breakfast." She wore a modest bathrobe, tied tightly shut and it brushed his leg as she moved past him, a plate of egg, sausage, bacon and beans in each hand. She put them down on the table, one in front of an empty place, the other in front of Rich, who was clad in tee-shirt and jeans. Rich stared at the plate intently. "There's sauce on the table," she said. "Tuck in. I'm just heading for the bath." She paused, taking in the coat and the backpack slung over his shoulder. "You're not leaving, are you?" There was something plaintive in her voice, something put out. It was tempting, very tempting.

Mark swallowed. "Yes," he said. "I think... I think I should see my sister for a bit. There are things to sort out and..." His voice trailed away lamely. He licked his lips. Priscilla's face was a mask of motherly concern.

"Well, I hope it's... I hope everything's okay, Mark." She glanced at Rich then, a furtive questioning look, but his friend's tousled head was still bent over his food.

"Yeah," said Mark. "It'll be fine. I'll see you and Rich later, maybe."

Priscilla considered this for a moment, nodded. "Well, alright, then. But you must eat before you go. You'll need some energy after..." She looked away again, flustered. "After your journey."

She began to move past him, but some impulse made him catch her hand. He was dimly aware of Rich's head rising at that, snapping up inquisitively, but his attention was focused entirely on Priscilla, on her clear blue eyes. She looked at him confidently, questioningly, accepting the contact but not returning it.

"I..." he began.

"Come and see me before you go," she whispered softly. "You know where the bathroom is."

He nodded. "I just wanted to thank you," he said, as solicitous and polite as a best friend should be. "For putting me up last night."

She smiled, patted his hand affectionately. "Don't be silly, Mark. After all this time, you're like one of the family."

With that, she moved away and up the stairs.

Mark returned his attention to the food on the table and the young man sat at it, who was watching him carefully.

He sat down warily, aware of his friend's gaze. A little self-consciously, he picked up his knife and fork and examined the food on the plate. Mrs Macauley - no, Priscilla, he reminded himself - had always cooked a mean breakfast. The sausages were nicely browned, the bacon crispy, but not burnt, the yolk of the egg neither broken nor too runny.

"This looks great!" And he didn't have to feign his enthusiasm either. The exertions of the previous night had left him more than usually hungry. He cut a piece of bacon away from its parent slice, shoved a few beans onto his fork to join it and brought it to his mouth.

"Yeah," said Rich, flatly.

Mark placed the food in his mouth and chewed slowly. He glanced up at Rich, who almost immediately directed his gaze down at his plate again.

"If you don't start soon, mate, I will be having your egg, you know..." It had been meant to be playful, teasing, but Rich reacted as if he'd been slapped.

"Of course you will," he said dully, picking up his own knife and fork to toy with the food on his plate.

Mark shrugged. He could only guess what Rich was feeling, although he suspected it would be pretty close to his own feelings of confusion, excitement and shame. His relationship with both Rich and his mother had, for good or ill, been transformed over the past twelve hours or so; he understood if Rich was still finding it all difficult to process.

So, he directed his attention to the food on his plate, and hoped that Rich would, in his own good time, open up. His plate was half-cleared and he was feeling pleasantly full when Rich spoke again.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said, at last. "I know what you must be thinking... I..."

Setting his knife and fork down, Mark waited patiently.

"It's been..." Rich blinked, passed his hand over his face as if to massage something profound or sensible or clever into his brain, something that would explain what his life now was. "It's been so..."

"Look," said Mark gently. "It's alright. Last night was... Last night was..." He blew out a breath, flung his hands up in an exasperated shrug. "It was fucking mental. That's what it was, but..." He wanted to be as honest as he could, but he didn't know whether he should. Should he tell him about his mother, how she had crashed into his mind and heart and taken up residence there, a sensual, beautiful, adorable queen whose every whim he would more than happily obey?

"Yeah." Rich smiled weakly. "I suppose you'll be wanting my sausage, then..."

Mark stared at him.

"Fucking hell!"

Rich laughed and Mark felt an extraordinarily powerful wave of relief crash over him. "Yeah." He grinned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell indeed."

"I just want you to know..."

"You're not gay."

"Fuck, no!" Mark's assertion was only half-playful. "But..." He stared at Rich seriously for a moment, watching the smile fade and a guarded interest replace it. "You're not bad, you know." Rich bowed his head, shyly. "Not bad at all..."

Rich was quiet for a little while. When he finally looked up, his eyes were clear but very serious. "And what about my mother?"

The question hung in the air briefly. Mark licked his lips nervously.

"Your mother's a beautiful, lovely woman, Rich. I don't want to come between you."

"You won't," said Rich calmly. "I don't think you could even if you wanted to..."

Mark chased an errant bean around the plate with his fork, spearing it along with a piece of fried egg white.

"I don't," he said, and was surprised at how genuine he felt as he said it. The jealousy that had gripped him last night seemed to have entirely dissipated. "I just need to get out and clear my head and think about stuff, you know."

Rich nodded. "Don't think too hard, mate." He smiled. "It'll hurt your brain."

"Fuck off," said Mark happily. Rich smiled in return and the two young men finished off their breakfast in companionable silence, the relationship between them redefined and still fresh, but, as far as Mark could tell, relatively stable.

The thought of Priscilla in the bathroom upstairs gnawed at his brain. Finishing off the last forkful of food, he got up from the table.

"She wants to see you, doesn't she?" said Rich.

"Yeah. I'm not sure why."

"Just..." Rich paused. "She's always liked you, you know. I think she thinks of you as her other child. Just... be careful, alright?"

Mark nodded, although he didn't really understand what his friend was driving at.

*****

Priscilla was soaking in the bath, mostly under the water, eyes closed, hair tied back away from her shoulders in a loose ponytail.

"Hello, Mark," she murmured softly, her eyes still shut. She shifted her body slightly under the water.

"Hello, Priscilla."

Her eyes flashed open and she was smiling, the playful, coquettish smile, teasing, flirtatious. God, she was beautiful!

"I found the little present you left for me. Very naughty." She sat up, the water sluicing from her bare breasts, clumps of bath foam clinging to them here and there. Mark was erect almost instantly. "But I appreciate it. I do." Her voice was soft like satin wrapped around a straining, throbbing, angry cock. It became more serious. "I did try to warn you..."

Mark nodded. "I know. You might as well warn..." He strained for an analogy. "A child to stay away from the biscuit tin."

The smile on Priscilla's lips became more sardonic. "Is that what I am to you? Something to be... eaten?"

Mark coloured, shook his head. "No. God, no. You're..." Words were failing him. How could he express the vast, passionate forces stirring within him with just words? "No," he said. "Never that. I..."

Priscilla leaned forward, reached out a damp hand towards him. "It's alright, Mark. I'm teasing." He took her hand, stroked the wet forefinger with his thumb. "Perhaps I've been doing too much of that lately." She looked up at him. "Must you go?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said, hoarsely. "I just need to..."

"Then don't be too long," she said, letting go of his hand and leaning back to slip once more beneath the bath's foam-flecked surface. "I want to see you again and I know Rich does, too." Her eyes were serious now. "In the front section of your bag, I've left you a present. Don't leave it too long."

Mark nodded. He turned to go and then halted, turned back. He stared at the magnificent woman in her bath, drank in the slope of her bare shoulders, the slenderness of her neck, the fulness of her lips, the startling clarity of her eyes. He strode over to her, bent down and kissed her, stroking her cheek before letting his hand drop to her hold and caress her neck. She tasted sweet and soft and heart-achingly beautiful.

He straightened up. "I love you," he said. "I know you warned me, but it can't be helped. I love you. I want to make love to you. I want to please you in whatever way I can." Priscilla's eyes closed at this outpouring of affection. Her breaths were heavy, somewhat laboured. Emboldened, Mark carried on. "I want to fuck you. I want to make you come over and over again. I..." He sighed, shrugged. "I love you. That's all, really. I just wanted you to know that..."

Then he turned and left the bathroom, walking heavily down the stairs to the hallway and the house's sturdy front door. He waved a friendly goodbye to Rich who was still in the dining room, messing about with his phone. Picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he left Rich's house.

The rain of yesterday had stopped and, although the clouds made the sky gloomy and the light uncertain, Mark couldn't help but feel that today might turn out to be a good day. He was halfway to the end of Rich's road before he remembered what his mother had said.

"In the front section of your bag, I've left you a present..."

Resting his bag on a nearby wall, he unzipped the bag hurriedly. At first he thought the small storage space at the front of the bag was empty, that Priscilla had been lying to him, but then he found it - a small, neatly folded piece of paper. He opened it eagerly, saw the message written in neat script:

Thank you for last night. Call me. Love, Pris x

Underneath it was a phone number. It took him a moment or two to calm his thoughts and to settle his breathing. He carefully folded the paper up and transferred it to his wallet.

Dodging puddles with over-athletic strides, he resumed his walk to his sister's flat, a broad, satisfied smile on his lips.

THE END

AFTERWORD: Thanks for taking the time to read this rather longer than anticipated story. I hope you enjoyed it. There may be more Mark, Pris and Rich at some point. We'll have to see.

All the best!

I9