The Rough Patch

"Mom?"

My mother had my dick in her hand instantly, sitting on the edge of bed this time around. Wordless as she gave me what was a perfect handjob, blast-off in under three or four minutes this time.

And that was that. Twice a day just like she'd promised. I found myself waking without my alarm in the morning and waiting for her footsteps out in the kitchen. At night I'd be cruising through my prep work, watching as she'd sit watching my tiny black-and-white TV, waiting for me to finish. I was clearer in my thoughts too. My world was a neat little orbit...work...study...handjob's from my Mom. Michelle faded from my mental horizon as I found my mind drifting to what was going on in my bed right now. Christ, I was horned out on this shit.

It was maybe a week before my hands started to drift. I mean, looking back now, across all these years, it was absolutely natural...a natural response to an unnatural situation. By the third day I was watching the sway of her breasts as she stroked me. The morning sessions were the best, as she would be sitting there in her pajama's, sans brassiere, a rhythm as her small breasts moved freely in the loose PJ top. I guess I should describe my Mom's body a bit better here, as it was the first time in my life I'd really considered in any serious way. She was fifty-four that year, a decent looking fifty-four. She kept her curly brown hair in a shortish cut, more than a few gray hairs which she'd habitually pluck out, more than a few lines in her face. She wasn't fat but was definitely stocky, wider in her hips and thighs than she'd been; her torso thicker, breast's but a small rise upon her chest.

The first time I touched her, my hand casually slipped around her waist, feeling the edge of her lower ribs through the cotton cloth. She adjusted herself so my touch slipped off, saying nothing, quickening her pace to get me off before I could get friskier. Two days later, again on our morning round, my hand looped for her waist—this time she eyed my hand, but didn't shift away, didn't speed her machinations up. She closed her eyes and I slid my hand up, up higher, just fingertips as I brushed her tit, getting the shape through the cloth of her pajamas...her breast was very small, firm and conical...by fingers tracing out to the pointed nipple, hardened. I met her eyes. She was looking at me now, stroking faster, quickening until I finally ejaculated.

"Sorry," I said as she washed me with the warm washcloth a few moments later.

"You shouldn't do that?"

"I know, I..." I couldn't go on and looked away 'til she left the room.

That night, after I'd ground through the books...1st part of my CPA exam two days away...she told me to go in and get ready. "Get ready" by this point meant get naked and lay on the bed. I couldn't fucking wait...it's hard to describe how revved up I'd be laying there like that, waiting. I was glad she wasn't still mad about what I'd done and vowed to keep my paws to myself.

She was taking longer than normal, my hard on flagging a bit. When she came in she was already in her PJ's...the morning outfit that drove me into fits.

She stood over me and seemed hesitant. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea," she said in a hushed voice, and then started to undo the buttons on the pajama top. My mouth went dry as I watched her fingers work down toward her waist. Mom actually blushed as she shrugged the top off.

"They're not that much to look at," she said her unease evident.

I took in the sight; her breasts were small, very small. I didn't know crap about cup sizes or stuff like that back then...they were just small, conical in their shape, tapered out to neat points, the nipples only slightly darker and narrowing to their peak. They were quite firm, and still had a slight upward slant to them, which surprised me for her age...at least afterwards, when I had time to ponder such things. They stood out starkly on her chest, a slight roundness to her belly, her navel a neat inward pit.

She sat down on the bed as always, stiffened with a new tension.

She took a hold of my rock-hard penis and just held it.

"You can touch them if you want, if it helps you."

I sat up in the bed, my hands trembling as I reached a hand to each of them. I didn't cup them as much as run my fingers downward on them, pulling lightly as I settled at her nipples.

"They're perfect," I whispered in a near reverential tone. I saw her roll her eyes, as if to scoff at the remark. I repeated my touch, outlining their tapered shape. "...They are."

She started with her hand then, softer in her grip than usual. I loved her tits, I did, which surprised me, having been acclimated to big knockers by years of scoping Playboy.

"I'd think your ex-girlfriend's probably put these to shame," Mom mused...God, she had the acid for Michelle. Michelle was fucking stacked...perfect tits, and perfectly proud of 'em too.

"Can I kiss them?"

Mom tossed her head. "Christ..."

"Don't blaspheme."

She frowned as she closed her eyes and shifted to offer them to me. I saw her swallow hard, her jaw set, no smile at my sarcasm. I leaned in and kissed her right tit and then the left, aware that her hand had kicked into high gear. I glanced up at her face, and then took her breast into my mouth...took the whole thing in, wetly moving my tongue over it, feeling I was going to cum soon, moving to the other one and sucking it into my mouth, settling on the hard nipple, sucking it very hard as I came.

I'd fallen back breathlessly, opening my eyes carefully. My mother stood...I'd splayed her belly with semen, her tits each glistening with saliva. She looked a bit stunned by it, a finger smearing her son's spittle on her breast, the opaque cum on her navel. Her eyes suddenly welled up and she bolted the room, closing the door behind her and not coming back in to wash me up. I lay there afraid to go out and talk to her, aware somehow that she'd be crying.

I dozed off after a while and the next morning woke up, dried semen crackly on my skin. It was getting light outside. I waited and didn't know what to do. After a while Mom knocked and peeked inside my room; I wanted to say I was sorry, even though I wasn't, not really.

"Ready?" she said, coming in without an answer. She stood over the bed and without a word, as if it were the most natural of things, took off her pajama top, neatly folding it across the bottom of the bed and taking her usual position seated alongside me.

She slid the sheet down and took hold of me. Her free hand touched the tip of her breast, a brush really, her thin wedding band on her finger, a clear invitation. I sat up and leaned in to her. She put her lips almost to my ear: "It's okay, baby," she said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I aced my CPA exam, the first section of it anyway. I knew I aced it, and when the scores were posted three days later, I was a 97. It was posted on a bulletin board in the state office building. I called my Mother from a phone booth and told her the good news...she asked me what I wanted to eat to celebrate that night. At the firm, I was the highest score among the new associates...Tommy O'Hara mentioned that my 97 was the highest score any of their associates had pulled down in the last six or seven years.

I was stoked that day, rocking! My Mom had made veal chops that night, German chocolate cake for dessert. She slid the books to me afterwards...two weeks and another test section. She put me on the phone with my Dad that evening...very happy, gushing in his praise. I listened to them talking afterwards, my Mom saying at one point that I was settled down fine now, apologizing for abandoning him like this, laughter at some comment on his side of the conversation. Just like every evening when they spoke, I felt weirdly guilty—his wife, my Mom was going to be getting her tits sucked by me in an hour or so, my cock jacked dry in her hand. It was so far off the norm, so absolutely nuts. I tried to concentrate on the accounting text before me, but let my mind wander to other thoughts—fucking my own Mom, my hard dick in her mouth. The images had come more and more frequently, shameful fantasies in the shadows of my mind at first, more and more to the fore of my thoughts with each passing day.

And so it was, two hours later, those perfect little tits under my lips, her small hand stroking.

"Do you miss doing it with Dad?" I asked. Her hand froze and she leaned away from me just a bit...body language an easy read.

"We're not going to talk about that," she said after a long moment. "...This is to help you get through a rough patch, when we're done we'll never talk about it again."

"Okay."

"This just helps you get past your girlfriend, agreed?"

I was sort of offended by her tone, I'm not sure why.

"Have you ever sucked on one?"

"What!" she snapped...that got her hand off my cock, her ass scooted a good foot away from me.

"I was just..."

"No, I have never...I cannot believe you asked me something like that." She stood up as she spoke, anger in her voice. She grabbed the PJ top up off the bed and held it in front of her chest. "How could you even think I would ever do something like that!"

"Sorry." I said quickly, pulling the sheet over my waist.

"Did you ask your trampy girlfriend that!" she fairly spat. "Did you ask her if she sucked..."

"Mom..."

"Oh wait, I see it now. You didn't have to ask if she did it because..."

I looked down, not able to hold her gaze. This was 1979 and blow jobs were not what they are today. Most girls didn't suck back then, or at least had to be argued into it if they did. When Michelle had gone down on me that first night, I was in sexual awe...when she swallowed, a bold gulp as she met my gaze, then a truly devilish grin, I was hooked, as addicted as if someone had hit my arm with a hypo of heroin.

"...That girl," Mom spoke up, shaking her head in disgust. She heaved out a deep breath, and shook her head once more, in resignation this time. "She would actually do that?"

I found myself nodding.

"Please don't mention that to me again, okay?"

"...I won't."

Mom sighed as she put the pajama top down to her side, she wiggled a playful sway into her tits and smiled.

"Wanna finish, buddy."

She sat down and put a hand on my chest, a caress, very tender and loving. She slid the hand down and I realized I'd gone completely limp. She stroked it softly, waiting for the reaction. When it didn't readily come she startled me by leaning over and brushed her nipple across my shaft, the touch so light I wasn't even sure of the contact. My cock started to stiffen...she leaned forward and brought her other nipple to bear...I was ready in seconds, arisen from the dead, soon up and at those little titties with my mouth, grunting as I spurted warmly against her skin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took two days for the subject of head to come up again. Not from me: I didn't dare mention it. My Mom broached the subject...in flagrante as it were, my nightly hand job, prick in her palm, me greedily sucking those breasts.

"Michelle actually did that," she whispered out of the blue.

"Suck on it? ...All the time," I rasped back...her hand was doing it perfectly...she'd started being bolder, cupping my testicles, her nails sensually scraping from down near my ass, playing off my responses to whatever it was she was trying.

"And when you lost it?" she queried..."lost it" her modest vernacular for shooting my sperm all over the place.

"She'd just...she'd just take it."

"Take it?" she yelped, wincing at the words. "She'd let you...in her mouth. You'd lose it in her mouth."

"Yeah." I was trying to hold off...this fucking conversation pushing me to fucking explode.

"Would she..."

"She'd swallow it," I muttered, thinking of Michelle gagging when it was just too much, the driblets of cum on her beautiful chin. Michelle loved to fuck...but she truly loved to suck. I didn't appreciate it enough back then, appreciate the fact that some girls, a very small minority of them really, excelled at fellatio because they genuinely loved doing it.

I was jammed in mid nod as I came, my hips bucking as I emptied my balls, collapsing back on the mattress spent, trying to settle my breath.

My Mom left and came back with the wash cloth, wiping the semen from own skin before tidying me.

"You liked it when she did that?"

"Sure," I answered.

"I knew one girl in my high school class who told us she did that to a boy," she said, shaking her head at the memory. "It got around too, I guess the boy bragged, you know. She had a terrible reputation because of that...who would want to marry a girl who would do that."

"Different now, I guess."

"I guess," she replied diffidently. "If I'd ever done that to your father, he would have washed his hands of me. He really would have."

"Maybe he'd have liked it."

"Oh, I'm sure he would have liked it," she said wryly. "Just that afterwards, after he'd have had his fun, it would be sayonara for me, as he went out and found a nice girl to marry. Any guy would have been like that back then."

"Maybe."

"Definitely!" she snapped, leaning over to kiss me lightly...motherly...on my forehead, unperturbed by her bared breasts lolling down from her torso.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Five more days went by, no more blow job talk. Just the usual hand and tit action... though I was having a ball with it, as always, I was also getting a bit bored with it.

That night Michelle called. I took the call...my Mom, who'd answered, leaving the kitchen to give me some privacy. The talk was awkward. I wondered if she was still getting fucked by the guy in the vette, or maybe by someone new by now...I had the brains to realize Michelle wasn't a girl to keep it in neutral for long. She asked how my CPA testing was coming, asked about work...asked if I wanted to go out with her and have a drink. I had it in my mind that a drink maybe meant a good hard bang, maybe more, maybe a step to getting back together. Who cared if she'd been out fucking or swallowing sword for some other guy or guys. I still fucking wanted her so bad.

I looked at the books on the table and figured I couldn't do it. I'd be fucked in my mind...plus my Mom would snap...I know I'm twenty-one years old, but she would, especially after all she'd been doing for me.

I waved Michelle off, saying I was buried in prep work for the second section of my testing, which was only a couple days off.

I was quiet after the call, not talking as I hit the books, my Mom brushing my hair as she'd pass by. It was only nine o'clock when she came over and rubbed my shoulders...two hours before my usual quitting time.

"You did enough tonight," she said. "Why don't you get things put away and we can do...we can do what we do. Sound good?"

It did sound good. I cleared things up, went into my room, stripped naked, lay down on the bed and waited. After a few minutes my Mom came in and to my surprise was already stripped to the waist. She came over and sat on the bed.

"I'm glad you didn't go out with her tonight," she said, brushing my forehead as she spoke.

"How'd you know she..."

"I had my ear to the door," she smiled. "You think I'm not going to eavesdrop."

"I didn't want to see her," I lied.

"I'm not sure that's true, but it was the smart thing to do. ...It was."

I reached up and idly toyed with her breast.

"I want to try something different, okay?"

"What?"

She looked embarrassed as she stood and then leaned over at the waist. I loved how her tits sagged when she'd lean like this, the hollow looseness in her flesh. She gave me a fast glance and then bent her head and kissed the vein lined underside of my cock, a fleeting peck.

"I'm going to try and do it with my mouth," she said tightly. She bent and kissed it again. "I probably won't be that good at it. If I'm not doing it right you can..."

"It'll be fine," I said raggedly, not believing what she'd just said.

"Don't lose it in my mouth," she warned. "I'm not kidding."

"I'll tell you when I'm getting close."

"Promise?"

I just nodded. Mom squared her shoulders and rolled her head a bit, as if steeling herself for something to be dreaded. She used her hand to tilt my cock up until it rose straight up from my body, smacking her lips...she kissed the head, did it again...a bright bead of pre-cum rose at my dick hole.

"Better do it now or I'm going to completely chicken out," she chuckled nervously, again absently smacking her lips. A deep breath and she parted her lips and lowered her mouth onto my eagerly waiting penis. The warmth of her saliva, the slick wetness was electric. She bobbed up and cautiously lowered her head again, retching as she went down too far on it and made herself gag. I thought she'd pull away and give up, but she closed her eyes and lowered again, settling it in her mouth, breathing through her nose. She started an awkward rhythm now, up and down, the bobbing maybe an inch upward and back down. She opened her eyes and scooted a glance up at me, a sheepish grin that faltered on a mouthful of her own son's cock.

"Your tongue, use your tongue," I wheezed, adrenalin racing through my veins. Her pips were slickly wet, my swollen shaft glistening. She closed her eyes and started working on it again, her tongue rolling along my cock...I felt myself going in mere seconds then.

"I'm gonna come," I said quickly. She kept her mouth going, as if lost in the experience. "Mom, I'm...I'm gonna come!" I barked, reaching down to push her off it as the orgasm corkscrewed up my spine...her eyes opening as she at last pulled back...the first spurt of semen catching her squarely across the lower face, a second glob of it hitting her chest with a literal splat. My eyes clamped as waves of it came over me...then I was aware that her hand was softly masturbating me still. I opened my eyes and saw the cum dripping down her face and over her chin, thick rivulets of it, more streaking her left breast and rolling downward to her rounded stomach.

"I'm a mess," she giggled.

"I'm sorry."

"Why, you warned me," she said as she let go of me and straightened up to a standing position, fingers touching her wet face. She seemed oddly amused by it, looked at me and did a small curtsy."...You were most gentlemanly in your actions."

"Did you..."

"I'm going to clean up and then...I'll be in to clean you up."

She didn't come back in though, I listened to her, to the water running in the bathroom and then to the shower running. I couldn't believe she did it...I'd cum so hard my gut hurt. Fuck!

I closed my eyes and felt sleep tumbling in on me. I drifted off thinking that I could have anything I wanted from my mother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning I got my usual wake up...I was in such a deep sleep that she had to shove me awake. I looked up groggily...my Mom was standing there topless, hands criss-crossed over her breasts.

"Morning," I mumbled.

"Ready?"

"I think I'm still half-asleep," I said, shaking the cobwebs from my mind.

"I couldn't wake you," she went on. "I came in last night, but you were already out cold."

I nodded and hitched up on my elbows.

"So are you ready, or not," she pressed.

"Yeah, sure I'm..."

"I'm going to do it like I did last night, okay?"

"You mean..."

"I think you know what I mean," she said knowingly, reaching down and pulling the sheet off me.

"I have to pee first," I said, my cock hardening despite my full bladder.

"Go," she said, shooing me off to the bathroom. I got up and felt weird walking out naked like that. I pissed and shook it off, before I left stopping to wash my penis off in the sink. My hands were shaking as I dried it on with a hand towel.

I walked back in fully erect...my Mom was seated on the bed. I looked her over, the PJ bottoms that hitched off at mid calf, the soft pink bedroom slippers. I came up to her and stood there...I presented her with it.