The Ice is Melting

"Whoa, what!?" I bellowed, "Did you say $17,000? Mother...tell me again what happened." She fell into another short crying jag, trembling and burying her mottled cheeks in the pillow, to stifle her plaintive sobs. I felt awful for having not paid attention, and wrapped her in a warm robe and cuddled her until she regained her composure. After she was fully able to explain the problem, she dozed off in my lap. She didn't seem to know that my stiff prick was supplying the support for her head. I tucked her in to bed and quietly tip-toed out of the room, hopefully to arrive at an answer to her problem. I owed her that much and more.

I took a moment to address a pressing problem of my own. It didn't require much imagination after that seductive back rub, to drain my cock. The image of riding my Mom's bare back was a good start. I saw her stretched helplessly beneath me, my legs straddling her back and holding her wrists above her head until her fruitless struggle subsided. Her beautiful hair was tangled and damp from sweat and her naked back had a rosy hue from the heat of exertion. Her cries of denial and refusal began to fade as her pussy heated up. She knew it was taboo to give-in to her lusty passion, but her horny twat was itching for my big cock, so the incest that had always haunted her fantasies was now coming to life. She understood that it was useless to fight such a demanding urge, and she wanted to feel my hard cock inside her and taste my milky fluid. Her resistance ebbed and gradually the frantic pleading to relieve her sexual tension began. Her back arched like a cat in mid-stretch, and her firm, full ass rose to greet me.

I loosened the hold on her arms and her right hand instantly shot between her moist thighs and began to pluck at her curly, auburn hairs. She teased the fleshy nub of her clit and plunged two fingers inside her steamy opening, calling for me to ram my solid erection into her gaping cunt. With her left hand she grabbed one of her dangling, heaving breasts. Her drooling mouth parted, the pink tongue darting out to flick at the rubbery tip of her nipple. My own left hand reached around her squirming torso to grab hold of the other boob, and I squeezed and fondled the heavy pillow of flesh. My right hand was firmly wrapped around a thick rope of her reddish-blonde hair. I pulled her back to me, exposing her double-Ds to my inspection with her pointy, pink nipples thrusting straight-out. Her warm, moist cunt settled securely onto my prick. I pounded into her comforting box, loosing a torrent of molten cream inside her waiting tunnel. It took only seconds to empty my hot load, then my belly and hand were awash in gooey cream. I keep a cloth for these times, by the bed, and wiped the remnants of my taboo obsession. I slept well that night.

She slept fitfully and I could hear from my room that she alternately tossed in bed and walked the floor crying. She finally sunk into an exhaustive, deep slumber and I let her sleep in. That gave me time to search through the maze of official paperwork with it's threatening sub-clauses, and I finally hit on a distasteful solution. I called the government hotline and after the compulsory phone transfers and double talk, I was able to make an appointment for that afternoon. It's amazing how eager they are to accommodate you, when you mention that you have their money.

It was a fairly simple process consisting of me withdrawing from college, shifting my grants and savings to the government, and them putting me on a payment plan for the next eighty years. But when I returned home and sorted-out the fine-print to her, it was worth it to see her smile through the tears. With a heavy heart, she accepted that this was the best way and she determined to put on a brave front, I think for my sake. She brooded through her day, undoubtedly worrying about the changes to our life, but she seemed to recover at least outwardly. I left her to her thoughts and hours later she was singing softly and preparing me a hearty supper. In the evening we switched from coffee to wine, and then on to some fruity cognacs she favored. And a strange transformation continued to take place right before my eyes, and now I was certain that it was happening, (I just did not understand the true nature of it.) Right before bed, she walked over to where I was sitting on the couch and leaned in to give me a good night kiss, I smiled at her but barely moved because her "goodnights" are often just "air-kisses." This time though she kissed me full on the lips and almost seemed to want to sit on my lap. I tasted the sweet orange liquor on her breath, and reached my hand to her, just to steady her. I feared she was a bit tipsy and might fall, but my hand slid up to her heavy breast as she hovered over me.

She didn't seem to notice but I quickly withdrew my hand, and she leeringly licked her pouty lips saying, "I like that flavor, maybe we should have a little nightcap every evening." As she turned to leave, a small giggle escaped her lips. She stopped suddenly and pivoted to face me, again with a far-off expression that I had never seen and couldn't quite decode. It looked like her body shrugged and she seemed to go slightly limp, as if some gigantic decision had just settled upon her and she was resigned to it's fate.

She fell back onto the couch next to me and strummed her thin fingers over my chest. Then after a long, silent pause where I was aching to hear what would come next; she started to mumble something, but it seemed to catch in her throat. She hesitated and tried again, "Oh JR," she stammered, burying her teary eyes in my neck. I felt her warm, citrusy breath and felt her soft lips as she whispered conspiratorially into my ear, "I only wish I had the nerve to..." but she covered her reddened eyes with her hands and sprang off the couch. I let her go, figuring at the moment that it was just another 80-proof apology. Now, I'm not so sure.

When she left, I did some serious re-evaluating. The woman whom I always knew to be assertive and in control of her surroundings, was slowly drifting towards a child-like reliance on me. And her personality was becoming submissive and penitential. She moped around the house for days after this, at odd times she would brush her fingers through my hair, or let her pink nails glide down my back, eliciting chills. Fortunately the school year was near it's end and her mind was directed on preparing final exams and then concentrated on grading them. For about two weeks her attention to detail was sharp and her students never suspected anything because she smothered them with encouragement and care. But when school let out and the days grew warm and lush, a season that normally brightened her step, her mood darkened.

Gardening, shopping, cooking; all the pleasant diversions that formerly distracted her attention and sparked her passion, were missing from her routine. She catered to me incessantly; preparing my favorite foods, breakfast in bed, and always apologizing for my being forced to leave school, and thanking me deeply for paying her debt and keeping it all quiet.

So I decided that we need to break the pattern. There is a mountain-top lake where we usually rent a rustic, remote cabin late in the year. Well, I booked it early and told Mom to pack for a two-week vacation. We left immediately.

Buying supplies and driving the three-hour trip through the deep woods; activities that usually bring-out the organizer and travel guide in her, produced a more sullen and distracted demeanor. She was forever totaling the cost of little items and remarking on which things we could do without. And then always saying "sorry about this mess I got you into, I only hope that I can make it up to you." And thanking me over and over. And along with her continual apologies, for some reason she continued to plead for my patience, "I just need to work a few things out, in my mind. Then I believe I can begin to pay you back." I had no idea what she meant and I know that she did not have the "collateral." Besides, her money was basically our money. I only said for her, not to worry so much. She only nodded and assured me that she would get past this dilemma.

That first night, the cabin was cold and musty. The little refrigerator needed time to get cold and the only heat would be from wood that I had to chop and kindle. I unloaded the car and hauled out garbage. Mom dusted and removed cobwebs, made the beds with fresh sheets and fashioned cold sandwiches with luke-warm wine and beer. We were both tired and sore, and she even laughed a bit at the meagerness of our surroundings. So we fell into our separate beds, but in one large room divided by a bedsheet draped over a rope line. I had almost closed my eyes for the night, when I spied her silhouette cast in shadow on the sheet.

It had been a few days since I had thought of her firm tits and bubbly ass, bathed in warm oil and my greedy hands only inches away. In the dim light of a flickering candle, I saw the shadowy apparition of her shapely torso as she tugged a heavy sweatshirt over her head, mussing that beautiful blonde mane. She replaced it with one of my extra-large tee shirts and then shimmied out of her jeans, boots and panties. For a couple minutes I watched as she brushed her long tresses. Then she blew-out the candle and crawled silently into the cot, I heard her whisper "sweet dreams, JR." For a few minutes I heard some heavy sighs, and then muffled sobbing. Daylight couldn't come soon enough, it would seem.

I was beat, but my cock was wide awake. It instantly tented the sheets and the incestuous fantasies again danced in my head. While I lay uncomfortably in bed, my hand quietly but roughly stroked the full length of my quickly engorging cock. There she was, with only a thin cotton tee between me and that hot, gorgeous body. How are you supposed to not dream about your mom, when she is built like a house, obviously in need of affection, and laying semi-naked just eight feet away. As I rapidly pumped my cock I wondered if she could hear me, and I wondered what she would think, or do if she could. Then I imagined that she could see my shadow from her side of the thin curtain, and was watching as I played with my tool, leading her to silently slip her fingers between her own legs and diddle that warm pussy. I also wondered if the kinky idea of her only son, "whacking-off to her," was exciting for her. Maybe at this minute she was getting herself off, and wishing that I would brush aside the obtrusive barrier and join her in her bed. Maybe she was fantasizing at this second, that my thick tongue was flicking at her clit, warming her up for the entrance of my big rod. I thought, (probably foolishly) that it might be an intense turn-on for her, to know that her nineteen year-old, would love to fuck her brains out.

I turned towards the wall, my stiff tool still in my grip, and the erotic vision of my sexy mother again formed before me. She was naked, her long legs spread-eagle on the bed, and masturbating furiously with my name on her lips. I watched for a moment from above her, she was too involved in her pleasure with her lovely eyes squeezed tight. I dropped my shorts to the floor and stroked my hard prick to it's generous dimensions, She heard the slapping cadence of my rough piston-action, and her eyes flew open wide. I manhandled her lithe body, flipping her onto her stomach and sliding a pillow under her belly, propping her cunt up in front of me as my entrée. I parted her legs, taking firm hold of her ankles and drove my mammoth tool into her dripping cunt. I pumped it deep in her tight hole and abused those low-hanging tits as I asserted my dominance. A couple of rapid pumps and I squirted thick gobs of jism on my hand and the wall. (I'll need to remember to clean that in the morning.) The last thing I recall, was her husky, pleading voice as she turned to watch my approach to her pussy, "Fuck me, JR. I need you now!"

I slept in late, the room was empty. I took my coffee out to the small wooden porch. There I spotted her a few yards away, down by the shore. She was sunning her magnificent body, she had obviously been swimming and now she was laying on her stomach, the straps of a woven, string bikini untied and dangling to the sides, and the smallest of orange bottoms, still damp and plastered to her round butt, with a nice amount of her ass crack showing through.

I hurried back inside to wrestle with my incestuous conscience, and with the hungry monster straining and throbbing in my shorts. The small "curtain" between our cots was open now and I would need to be discreet and quiet about why I was still in bed, but in a highly agitated condition. And my mind was again on that now singular track of holding my mom down on the bed while I forced her thighs apart. Once between her legs, I would thread my stiff cock into the hot, moist cavern of her tight twat. Her initial reluctance to my assault would morph into an energetic response. My hands will be rolling those enormous tits between sweaty palms and my fingers and tongue would flick and lick at the firm, rubbery nipples. Her hands would capture my tool, rubbing it briskly, and guide it towards her curly-pubed furnace. She uses the helmeted tip of my cock to abrade the delicate skin of her clit, until her fiery pussy erupts in liquid ecstasy. My cock is steely in her grip while she feeds it through the tight, clingy folds of her vagina. My pelvis thrusts mightily forward and her shapely hips rise to meet them. She tosses her blonde locks side to side and screams for my release. I grab her tremendous breasts and push into her honey pot. I feel my balls rise in their sack and the pumping action of my shaft, we are near lift-off when the cabin door swings open.

I saw her outlined in the door frame. The towel draped around her amazing torso, hides none of her lovely curves. It reaches mere inches below her golden triangle. The silky hair had been recently brushed and though still damp, formed a shining aura about her soft, heart-shaped face. The long tanned legs and bare feet set me wondering if she was completely naked under the plush towel. If I were bold enough, I would simply toss the blanket aside and let her see the steamy affect she had on me. My cock was solid as a flagpole. I would motion to her, to join me on the small bed. And still stroking my cock, I would grab her long hair and bring her sexy mouth down on my throbbing organ. If only I were brave enough.

Fortunately for me, she was momentarily blinded stepping into the darkened cabin from the bright sun, and she was still wearing sun glasses. It took a second for her lovely blue eyes to adjust to the dank surroundings and I was given a moment to scramble to the side of the bed and secure my near-bursting prick into my shorts.

She lazily slumped beside me on the tiny bed and in a jittery tone said, "JR we need to talk about some things. This situation has gotten out of hand and I'm having trouble dealing with it, and with you like a mother should." I was stunned. Did she already see the enormous lump in my pants that outlined my swollen cock as if I was shoplifting a salami? Can she see the spreading spot at my crotch from the leakage of pre-cum? Has she noticed the way I endlessly stare at her big tits or leeringly yearn for that forbidden zone at the delta of those long legs? Maybe she finally heard the grunts last night, or the unmistakable slapping noise, or any of the other times I have had to stroke my swollen shaft just yards away from her, while dreaming about her golden tunnel?

No, what she stuttered through was the preamble to another desperate apology about the money and its seeming to require me to assume a more dominant role in our relation, as if I were the parent. She mentioned something about her feeling more secure having me make "the big decisions." I began to drown-out her message because my eyes were hypnotically drawn to her long legs. With her ankles crossed I was seduced by her pink painted toes when they nervously dug into the old rag-rug or swung lightly in the air. The muscles of her calf flexed as she pointed a foot. And her thighs softly rippled leading my attention to the shadowy spot in between.

She sat demurely erect, a pose I've seen in her classroom, but missing the authoritative air. Her body smelled fragrantly warm from the sun and her tanned legs glowed. The thick towel was wrapped under her arms and her legs were folded, permitting no discovery, still I wondered. I pictured her naked and apprehensive under that towel. I did not intend to ignore her but the painful swelling in my balls was crowding the loving empathy for her situation. As if by x-ray vision, I zeroed-in on the sexy little protrusions poking through the top half of her fluffy cover-up. Her breasts appeared to form an upper balcony in the soft, white material. And each breath seemed to thrust them forward, filling my line of vision. My eyes lowered to the darkened area at the juncture of her thighs, I kept imagining what delicate and forbidden secrets were literally just beyond my grasp. And I fought the urge to "accidently" sit on one corner of the towel. I then tried to peek over her shoulder, through the window, to see if her wet bathing suit was drying on the line, and that she was indeed in all her full, sexy glory under that fuzzy white barrier.

I could yank that towel away and rip the tiny suit from her shivering body. She would shudder in fear at the suddenness of my movement, but then she would warm to the dominance of my character. Her body would slink back on the bed and like a flower in the morning sun, she would open herself to my warmth. My digits would pry apart the tender folds of her vagina and my flat, wet tongue would bathe her inner and outer lips with saliva. I could taste the salty, creamy dew of her emissions and sense the rumble from deep within, knowing that she was so close to her climax. The passionate licking would continue until I felt the tremors and heard the shrieks of her surrender. I would lift her legs and place them gently on my shoulders as I scooted closer to her pussy. Her strong gams would grip tight around my neck, permitting no escape. She places her fingers on both sides of her snatch and draws the folds aside. The glossy, reddened cave is framed with matted auburn curls. She swipes her hand over the soggy mound and coats my erection with her moisture. My huge tool, now well-lubed glides toward the glistening sheath. It's helmeted tip acting as a spearhead, it drives deep into her cunt, the warm sides gripping and coaxing it along. I felt her warm hand caress my thigh... Wait...What?

It was at that moment, that I noticed her soft hand gently patting my own bare thigh, mere inches from she could not have realized, was my raging hard-on. Her head lay gently on my shoulder and I could feel the warm trickle of tears and sense the shuddering of her heaving bosom. Then I heard," JR, I don't know how to make things right, I've lied and cheated, and I feel awful causing such a problem. I owe you everything for helping me." Her somber words were mixed with sniffling and tears.

I was snapped back to reality, but still at a loss for the appropriate sentiment. "Mom, it's okay. If this happened to one of your students, you'd forgive them and that would be it. I know it." I struggled for anything more useful to offer.

"No," she replied. "You're wrong. I would forgive, yes. But something like this needs to be punished. And I entangled you in my mess. I don't deserve to be incharge. You should be in control of things now. I believe penance is due. I don't want to go to jail, but I must somehow pay my debt to you. It was just luck that you were able to save me, and you sacrificed so much...I owe you everything."