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If you haven’t read the previous Chapters, the author suggests you take a moment to go back and read them to understand how Joey and his Mom got to this point. All participants in this story are over 21 years of age.


Being Monday, it was a busy day for Mom and me, and it was almost 11:00 by the time we finished our conversation, had sex at the kitchen table, ate breakfast, and washed up. With winter approaching, I’d ordered another half-cord of firewood to be delivered to our storage, so I waited for the delivery man to call on my cell while Mom went out and food-shopped. Hopefully I’d be downstairs with him when she returned and I could escort her up from the basement parking garage.

It worked out and Mom called saying she was pulling in just as I was paying the man for the wood. As he pulled away, we each grabbed a couple of sacks full of groceries and went to the elevator.

When the elevator doors closed, Mom asked, “Do you think they have a hidden camera in the elevator?”

I thought for a moment. “No, I’ve never seen any cameras anywhere in the building.” I looked around the elevator. “I don’t see one here.”

Mom smiled, then leaned in and gave me a big, wet kiss. “I missed you, even though I was only gone for a while,” she said when the kiss ended. Needless to say, after we got in the front door of her condo, it was an hour before the groceries got put away.

So started what was one of the best weeks of my life so far. Mom and I settled in to being together as a couple, not just as son and mother. I was amazed at Mom’s sexual energy. We’ve all heard that women reach their sexual peak around the age of 37, and I can only think that Mom is living proof. I wouldn’t say she is insatiable, because there were times that she was satiated, orgasmed out, and couldn’t fuck any longer. But she came right back in almost no time. Never sore, never not in the mood, she was down for anything, any time, and anywhere in the house. We fucked in the kitchen, in the shower, in both bedrooms, in the living room, in the dining area, in the family room. We even fucked one night on the small deck outside, she leaning, shivering, against the railing and me standing behind her, holding her dress up, fucking her slowly and in the deepest parts of her cunt.

I’m a twenty-two year old man, and as such, am pretty much horny all the time. Mom is the only woman I’d ever met who was just as horny as I am. Plus, she initiated the sex at least half the time if not more. She was just so damned sexy.

She was also highly orgasmic. Few of my previous lovers had been able to cum during intercourse. For many, they had one way of reaching orgasm, and would slowly and silently let me know what they wanted and needed. It was like putting together a 500 piece jig-saw puzzle to figure out what they needed in order to climax.

Not so with Mom; she could cum in a variety of ways, and seemed eager to chase down her orgasm no matter what kind of sex we were having. She wasn’t afraid of telling me exactly what she wanted me to do to her.

For example, one morning that week she was giving me a “good-morning” blowjob in bed and she started rubbing her wet cunt up against my lower leg as she sucked and licked my cock. I could feel her slick wetness against my shin as she positioned her labia on either side of the hard bone and started working her pussy and clit up and down it. Her blowjobs were amazing and it wasn’t long before I was getting close. Mom picked up the speed of her leg-humping and just as I came and started spewing into her mouth, she orgasmed on my shin. It was wet and sticky when she finished.

It was an incredible week of incredible sex an incredible number of times. Again, we just couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.

Reality did begin to intrude on us as the week wore on, however. We both were aware there would be complications to our new-found love, and we began to bring some of them to the surface during that first week.

The first was what I should call her. We had gone out to dinner on Wednesday night, and Mom was concentrating on the menu choices and didn’t hear the waitress approach and ask if we’d like a cocktail before dinner. I touched her arm and asked, “Heather, would you like a drink or a glass of wine before dinner?”

Mom looked up at me suddenly and gave me a look, like, “What the Fuck?” She quickly regained her composure and gave her order to the waitress. When we were back alone, she asked, “So when did you start calling me by my first name?”

I whispered back, “Well we’re in here all lovey-dovey, holding hands, all googly-eyed. I can’t very well call you Mom. That would freak the waitress out!”

“We’ll talk about it later, when we get home,” she said briskly and went back to studying the menu. After a few minutes she was fine, but I could tell it had upset her.

As soon as we were in the car she said, “I don’t want you calling me Heather. I’m your mother.”

While casino oyna we were eating I had thought about it a bit and had a plan jelling in my mind.

“Look, Mom, we can’t be out in public on a date, obviously a couple in love, and have me calling you Mom. We have to come up with a plan on how this is going to work.”

“Being your mother is what makes our relationship so special. I don’t want to minimize that by having you calling me Heather.”

I could see that she was only focused on the problem and not on the solution at that moment, which was okay. I understood that she was still a little in shock from hearing me call her Heather.

“Well, why don’t you just think about it, Mom, and see what kind of solution you can come up with for when we’re out in public?” I changed the subject quickly when I saw some Christmas lights up on a commercial building. “Look,” I said, “not even Thanksgiving yet, and already Christmas lights!”

“Way too early,” she answered, and commented that she wished we lived in a house so we could put some up.

“We’ll decorate inside, Ma, with all the cheesy stuff we can find at Target.” She laughed and seemed to have forgotten the name-calling problem.

The next day, after an energetic noon-time fuck, we lay there on the carpet and she said, “You know when we were with your father’s business associates or clients, I never called him Joey or Big Joey. I always called him Joe or Joseph. Same for when I was around his family. They hated the name Joey, so I called him Joe. When I was mad at him, sometimes I called him Asshole. When we were making love I sometimes called him Big Daddy. So I called him a lot of different things, depending on the situation.”

“And?” I asked.

“So that’s what it’s like for us. When we’re alone, you call me Mom. When we’re with family, you call me Mom. When we’re out in public, you call me Heather.” She paused. “Just like I called your father different names according to the situation.”

“You don’t think I should just get used to calling you Heather so I don’t slip up when we’re smooching in the back of an Uber car after I had inadvertently called you Mom when we first got in?” I gave a short chuckle. “That could happen.”

“I don’t think it will,” she answered. “I never had to think about it or worry about it with your father. I think it will come naturally for you, just like it did at the restaurant last night.”

So that became our plan, which was exactly what I had thought of in the restaurant the night before. It did feel odd to call her Heather, but we’d both get used to it.

“But when we’re alone, always call me Mom, or Mommy, or Mother,” she said without hesitation.

Seeing the Christmas lights up before Thanksgiving led to another problem being identified. Mom and I had both been invited to Auntie Jane’s house in Nebraska for Thanksgiving. That identified another issue. Jane (my mother’s sister), Nana (my grandmother), and Jane’s husband and family would all be there. We would visit members of Dad’s family. We talked about the issue and decided that for those few days we had to only be mother and son, sleeping in separate bedrooms, with absolutely no monkey business.

“What about getting a motel room?” I suggested.

“It would be too risky,” Mom answered. “We always stay with them. And it would look weird, us being in a motel room together.”

“How about getting a motel room in the middle of the day?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows in a lecherous way.

“We’ll see,” was Mom’s reply. “It’s a small town with a lot of wagging tongues.” It never happened, and it was excruciating. So excruciating, in fact, that we couldn’t wait for the six-hour drive home to be over to be alone. We only made it an hour and a half on the road, then couldn’t wait any longer and got a room in North Platte and spent the rest of the day and night there, fucking, sucking, and watching TV.

So we worked out the various issues that came up that first week, but both knew that there were larger issues looming.

During the course of the week, I slowly moved into Mom’s bedroom full time. It started when she mentioned to me that she had hung my fresh laundry in the closet in her room. Then I did a load of underwear, gym clothes, and T-shirts. While I was folding them, Mom mentioned that she had cleared a couple of drawers in her dresser for me.

By the end of the week, it was our bedroom, and all my stuff was in the closet and dresser, and all my toiletries were in the master bathroom. I had moved in and taken my father’s place in her bed, in her bedroom, and in her life.

One thing intrigued me all week long. As I had been fucking her from behind while watching football on Sunday as she lay on the coffee table with her ass thrust up in the air, I had accidently slipped out of her pussy and my cock had pushed against her other hole, the one that was pink and puckered.

She hadn’t said, “Not there.” She said, “Not canlı casino now.” I couldn’t get that “Not now” out of my mind all week. I probed and explored her anal opening every time I went down on her, and she seemed to enjoy it. I had never fucked a girl in the ass, and I had never been especially intrigued by it, but that “Not now” kept working on me all week long. I had a vision that became very common, the sight of the tip of my cock disappearing into her ass. It would just spring into my mind at any random moment.

On Saturday we had a fire going in the fireplace and were switching back and forth between a baseball playoff game and the Nebraska-Penn State game. The Rockies had missed the playoffs again, so we spent most of the time on the football game, as Big Joey had been a Husker and we were both huge fans. We had been cuddling and kissing on the couch, of course, still one of our favorite pastimes. Mom was in a very sexy baby-doll negligee with a gauzy, sheer cover over it, I was in cotton sweatpants and a V-Neck Tee. For some reason I couldn’t keep my hands off her boobs that day, and she finally had to ask me to stop, as her nipples were getting sore.

“I’m sorry, Joey, but you’ve been pulling and pinching them for an hour,” she apologized.

“It’s okay, Mom.” I just can’t keep my hands off your nipples today.”

“Just give them a little rest,” she said, always the trooper. “You can probably suck on them later, if you do it gently.”

I dropped my hand to her lap and began rubbing her legs and stomach, waiting for her to open her legs so I could get at her pussy. When she did, I ran my hand down and cupped her bald, freshly-shaved-just-that-morning vulva in my hand, applying gentle pressure. She pushed back against my hand.

“Mmmm,” she said. “That feels good.” She started slowly moving against my palm as I applied gentle pressure. After a bit, she put her hand over mine and pushed it harder into her sex. She was slowly humping my open hand, and I could tell by the amount of thick juice her pussy was producing that she was getting excited. After about five more minutes of holding my palm tightly to her cunt and moving her pussy against it, she lay back on the couch with her head on the armrest at the far end and brought both feet up, spreading her legs and giving me a full beaver shot.

“Lick me, Joey,” she said in a soft voice. “Mommy needs a little licking.”

I got on my knees on the couch cushion and began to gently suck and lick her cunt. As I did, I brought a hand under her butt, and slipped the tip of my index finger into her tight hole there.

“Ooh,” she said with a start, pulling back, and I withdrew the tip of my finger from her ass. “That hurt a little. Get some of my goo on your finger and try that again.” I continued licking her labia and clit as I brought my finger tip up to her cunt and rolled it in her juices. Then with two fingers, I started rubbing the wetness down her perineum and past it to her rosebud, greasing it up. I put my entire index finger in her pussy to get it well lubricated, then slipped the tip of my index finger back into her anus.

“Oh, much better,” she sighed as she ran her fingers through my hair. “Much, much better. Stick it in a little further.” With all the fantasies I had been having all week about the “Not now” statement, I didn’t need any more urging, and I pushed my finger all the way in. She groaned. I felt her get wetter against my face and tongue.

I lapped at her clit and sucked it into my mouth. It was enlarged, gorged with blood, and Mom was enjoying the dual sensation of my attention to her clit and my finger up her ass. Then she surprised me.

“Put another finger in there.” I withdrew my index finger, and holding it together with my middle finger, I slid them both slowly back into Mom’s ass. “Fuck me slowly now with those two,” Mom groaned.

I began slowly finger-fucking her ass with two digits as I continued to suck and lick her clit. My chin was against the opening to her cunt, and I was glad I had shaved so closely that morning. Mom was getting hotter and hotter.

“God, I want another finger in me. Will it fit?” Mom lifted her ass off the cushion. Withdrawing my two fingers, I added my ring finger to them, and started pushing all three against Mom’s sphincter.

“Wait,” she said, pushing my face away from her cunt. She jumped up and ran towards the bedroom. She reappeared in a moment with a plastic bottle in her hand. She handed it to me as she laid back down in her previous position on the couch. I looked at the bottle and saw that it was lube.

Mom lifted her butt way off the cushion and said, “Put some of that on me, and on your fingers.” I did as she asked, greasing up her puckered hole, working a little bit inside, then coating my three fingers with the lube, which smelled like strawberries.

“Okay,” she said, still offering up her ass to me. “Try again.” I was harder than Chinese algebra.

I put kaçak casino my face back down against her cunt and started licking up and down, letting the tip of my tongue trail over her clit with each pass. I moved my three fingers to her ass, found the small, greased opening, and began gently pushing against it. It resisted still, but with gentle, steady pressure, I felt the tips of my fingers begin to enter her. Mom was encouraging me with grunts and groans, and an occasional “Yes, just like that. That’s how I like it.”

With a sudden little pop, I felt my fingertips go past her sphincter. Mom groaned loudly and grabbed my head again, moving my face up and down on her cunt. “Push them in now,” she said, and I started applying more pressure with my three fingers. I felt them sliding up Mom’s forbidden hole and with each centimeter of progress Mom howled. I wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain, probably some of both. Finally I had them in as far as they would go, and held them there. Mom finally cried out in frustration, “Now fuck me with them.”

I concentrated on her clit with my lips and tongue, and started ass-fucking her with three fingers. She moaned and groaned from the combination of pain and pleasure, and after ten or fifteen hard thrusts up her ass, she exploded onto my face, a sudden surge of her cunt-juice splashing my cheeks and nose with force. I pushed my fingers up her ass and she rode them as her climax peaked.

As soon as she finished her orgasm, I pulled my face away and told her, “Roll over and get up on your hands and knees.”

She flipped over quickly and, keeping her head on the armrest, got on her knees and raised her ass to me. I grabbed the bottle of lube, squirted some on to my hand, then coated my dick with it. I got up on my knees on the cushion behind her, and just as in the vision I had been having all week, positioned the blunt end of my dick against her tight asshole.

I pushed and felt the initial resistance. I felt and saw Mom push out, as if she was shitting, and her hole opened up just enough for the tip of my cock to slide in. I watched from above as just the tip disappeared into her tight hole. I gave another push, and Mom groaned as I slid another inch into her, still not past her sphincter.

Mom said, “Slowly. It hurts when it first goes in.”

I squirted another splash of lube on the shaft of my cock, then put the bottle down and rubbed it around my cock and her asshole. Grabbing each pale orb of her ass, I watched as I applied gentle, steady pressure, my cock slipping in further until I felt her sphincter muscle give up and allow me entry.

“Hold it right there for a second,” Mom said and exhaled fully, starting short, panting breaths through pursed lips. She was getting ready for the pain when I pushed all the way into her.

After a brief moment of practiced breathing, she pushed back and I watched as my entire shaft disappeared up Mom’s ass. When I was all the way in, Mom breathed all the way out again, took a deep breath and said, “It’s okay, now. It’s in. You can fuck me all you want.”

Her ass held my cock like a vice. I had never felt anything this tight, wet, and warm. It was an unbelievable feeling.

I withdrew a bit and pushed it back in to the hilt. Mom yelped, then groaned. I pulled out a bit and thrust it back in. Mom groaned, and said, “Oh, fuck.” Again, I wasn’t sure if it was from pain or pleasure, dread or desire. Mom cleared it up when she said, “Fuck me in the ass, Joey. I’ve been wanting you to do it. I like it.”

With that said, I took better hold of her ass cheeks and started long-stroking Mom’s tight asshole. She was calling out encouragement to me as I gave her ass a hard pounding.

“Yes, Joey. Fuck my ass, Joey. I like it hard, Joey.” I slammed in and out of her for five or six minutes, watching as my cock emerged, then disappeared, then reemerged again. I felt my orgasm coming and I shouted out, “I’m gonna cum in your ass, Mom. Right up your…”

I almost blacked out when my orgasm hit me and I couldn’t finish the sentence. The orgasm washed over my entire body, every part of me was tingling with the ultimate pleasure. I pumped my thick white son-semen up my Mom’s anus once, twice, then pulled my cock out and pumped three or four times more on the pale cheeks of her raised and yielding ass, holding my cock in my hand and painting her butt with my cum in thick, white ropes.

As I was recovering, Mom laid on the couch, ass still up in the air, and said, “Oh, honey, that was wonderful.”

“Wow, Mom, I’ve never done that before, and I really liked it. I’m a little surprised that you liked it so much, though.” I got up off the couch. “Stay there and I’ll get a towel for you.” I could see thick white sperm leaking out of her back hole.

“Okay, honey, thank you,” she answered as I went towards the bathroom.

When I came back she was standing next to the couch, holding her hand over her bottom. “I’m leaking,” she laughed, and took the towel from me. She wiped her butt with it a few times, then folded it once with the goo inside it, laid it on the couch and sat on it. “We’ll let the rest come out. It doesn’t take long.”

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