The Summer of ’78 Ch. 02

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I lay on the raft alone in the moonlight for a few minutes after my mom left for the house. My cock was now semi-erect, but still pulsating with a dollop of jizz remaining at the tip. If it was possible to feel euphoria, shame, confusion and peacefulness simultaneously, I was doing it then. Nothing in my life had prepared me for that five minutes on the raft with my mother and I had a sneaking suspicion that this was not the end of it with her.

Slipping off the raft and out of the pool, I toweled off and walked naked through the back yard up to my house. There was really no possibility of neighbors seeing me back there, especially now that it was dark. The cool night air felt wonderful on my skin and the nakedness was pretty exhilarating too. As I passed my parent’s bedroom suite on the way to my bedroom, I heard the shower running in the bath. Mom was humming in the shower-something I had not heard her do previously. What was the tune? I paused and listened. Aretha Franklin’s “A Natural Woman”. I chuckled and headed for my own shower.

My camp clothes were still dirty and in my duffle bag, so I went to my big brother’s room to borrow some of his shorts and a t-shirt. I usually went commando in the summer anyway, so I would not need any of his boxers. Faintly in the distance I heard a mechanical, whirring sound. It would not be a lawn mower at this hour, I thought. Hmm. Sounded more like my dad’s Norelco beard trimmer. Walking back to my bedroom, I now detected that the unmistakable sound of dad’s trimmer coming from my parent’s bathroom. What the heck would SHE be doing with that?

Now dressed, I went back down to the kitchen and put the pasta water on the stove. Mom taught me that in Italy, they salt the pasta water generously, so I added two fistfuls of salt from the large container. Mom had already set the dining room table for one, as she was expecting to be alone, so I made another place setting for myself across from her. Opening up the fridge, I saw that she had also made up a fresh salad with vegetables from our garden-romaine lettuce, cucumber, tomato and shredded carrot. This was going to be a great meal!

“What do you think, Greg?” Mom was at the kitchen door, grabbing the doorframe with both hands and looking at me over her shoulder. She was wearing one of my old blue and white pinstripe oxford dress shirts. At her height, it drooped a bit at the shoulders and went clear down to her knees. She had rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. The top four buttons were undone and it was obvious enough that she was bra-less. Her cleavage was truly spectacular as she faced me, drawing closer. She wore no makeup except for dark red lipstick. I was once again speechless. “I’ll take that stare as a sign of approval. Do me a favor. Go to the basement and grab a bottle of Amarone from the wine rack.” she said turning to attend to her Bolognese sauce.

Dutifully, I descended the cellar stairs to the wine racks. We had mostly Italian wine in the collection, all of it red. “Mom” I yelled up the stairs, “1958 or 1962?”

“Let’s live it up a little, Greg” (like we hadn’t already), she called back. “Bring up the ’58!”

I knew this was a special bottle, as it had a piece of bright orange yarn tied around the neck, which was dad’s way of denoting an expensive wine. I wondered if he would be more pissed off knowing mom drank his precious Amarone without him, or knowing that she had just sucked her son dry in the pool?

The table was now completely set with our salad, bread, pasta and Parmesan cheese. Mom was ladling the awesome sauce onto the fettuccini when I arrived back in the kitchen cradling the Amarone.

“Have you ever uncorked a bottle of wine before, hon?” mom asked, as she reached into the cupboard for two wine glasses.

“Well, no mom, but I can certainly give it a shot”. For a first timer, I did pretty well, only getting a few small pieces of cork into the wine bottle.

“That’s fine, hon.” mom said encouragingly. “The older corks are just a bit more delicate.” She poured two tall glasses, and she toasted us saying “In vino, veritas” as we then clicked glasses and tasted. The Amarone was heavenly, tasting of raisins, cherries and musk. Mom sometimes allowed my siblings and me a diluted glass of wine, half water/half wine, on special bahis firmaları occasions. This was my first straight-up glass of wine, and even a few sips made me feel flushed.

A devout Catholic, mom always insisted on saying a prayer before every meal, and she held my hand as she offered, “Heavenly father, we thank thee for the bounty thou has set before us. We pray for those not with us and for the less fortunate. We ask for these blessings in Christ’s name. Amen.” I’m not sure what the heavenly father or Jesus Christ would think about incest, but am fairly sure they might take a dim view of it. I also thought that I might want to be a fly on the wall of mom’s confessional booth after this Sunday’s mass. Would she dare tell father Connelly?

We dug into the food with ravenous appetites. After having eaten such disgusting cafeteria food at camp for four weeks, my taste buds were having a little party. Mom and I had great conversation with lots of laughs as I regaled her with stories from camp. Normally a bit reserved, I found myself much more talkative and free than ever before. The wine was clearly having an affect upon me. We said not one word about what had occurred an hour ago at the pool, but I think we wisely kept that out of the conversation. What had happened was now history and words would not change that.

“I have something special for dessert, so save some room, Greg.” Mom said, as she rose to clear the table.

“Let me do the cleaning, mom. You already worked so hard to make this great meal.” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder and re-filling her wine glass with the remaining Amarone.

“You will get no argument from me” she said, sitting back down and tucking her hair behind one ear as she took another sip. As I rinsed the dishes and cleared the table, she began humming “A Natural Woman” once again. She walked over to the stereo in the den and put an album onto the turntable. Aretha Franklin was blaring through house speakers, accompanied by mom, slightly off-pitch but exuberant.

With the dishes now done and the table completely cleared, I sat back down and nursed what remained of my wine. Mom came back from the den and asked, “Are you ready for dessert now, hon?”

“Oh yeah, mom. I am! Bring it on!” I replied.

She cocked her head slightly and arched one eyebrow, saying, “I don’t think I have ever made this for you before, but I’m also positive that you will enjoy it!” Mom was such a great cook, I could not imagine her making anything that wasn’t top-notch. She was the kind of cook that made tiramisu and cannoli from scratch. I did not remember seeing any desserts in the refrigerator or freezer, so she must be keeping this one in a special place. My mouth started to water with anticipation of a new treat.

Setting her wine glass at the end of the table, she also moved my glass away. With both hands, she reached under her shirt and removed her white cotton panties. Sliding her butt onto the dining room table, she wiggled her way directly in front of me. “Undo the last couple buttons hon, and you will see what I made for you.” she said almost innocently, leaning back on the table with both hands. My hands trembled as I reached for the buttons in front of me. She was now staring at me, her eyes growing wider with each opened button. Just one left, then….paradise! She had a wide and devilish smile for me, as I gazed upon the first pussy I had ever seen.

Mom had done some trimming, as this was not the same bush I spied from under the raft at the pool. The dark brown pubic hair was uniformly mowed, like a crew cut, to about ¼ inch. She must have been using dad’s beard trimmer for this purpose earlier, as it looked completely manicured. The dark hair looked like it normally spread all the way over to her pubic bone, but she had shaped it into a tidy rectangle above her pussy. Her caesarian scar ran from below her navel to just above her trimmed bush.

“I don’t know what to do, mom.” I said, looking into her smiling eyes. She scooted forward a bit so that her ass was at the edge of the table and her legs draped off the side.

Leaning back now on her elbows, she instructed me, “Start by licking softly up and down my labia with your tongue, like you would an ice cream cone.”

I sat forward in my chair and kaçak iddaa leaned toward her awaiting vagina. “First, wrap your arms under my thighs and around my back.” I did so carefully as she lifted her legs slightly for me. Her pussy was now 4 inches from my face, and I was going in. I opened my mouth wide and applied my moist tongue to the very bottom of her pussy lips and slowly licked my way north. Repeating this motion a few times, mom began a low and guttural moan. The taste sensation was not quite what I had imagined of a pussy. It tasted of lemon, candle wax, and musk. Honestly, it tasted like a concentrated version of mom’s natural scent which I knew since I was born.

The consistency of her juice quickly coated my lips, mouth and tongue. It was like the slipperiest of water. No wonder it was nature’s perfect lubricant.

“Now lick me in circles, babe” she directed in a low, soft voice. I obeyed, moving my strong tongue in kind of an oval/circular pattern around the outline of her soft lips. Without realizing it until now, trumpet playing had turned my tongue into a perfect instrument of pleasure.

“That’s totally it, Greg! That’s great! Keep doing that!”

I increased my tongue pressure slightly, but kept my motion at the same speed. Mom returned to her loan moan, and I added some variation as I licked a zigzag pattern up and down her now sopping wet vagina. The lips began to separate with this pattern, and I could now see that inside the lips were protecting the mound of her clitoris. Her clit was a bright pink hue at the base and almost whitish-pink at the top.

“You found my treasure, Greg! Good job! I am so glad I paid for those trumpet lessons all these years. You’re a natural! Now, continue those same exact circles around my clit, only smaller. And be careful not to lick directly on top of it!” mom said excitedly, as she shifted back up onto her hands to have a better view of the show between her legs.

Using just the tip of my tongue, I moved in circles at the base of her clit. My instinct told me to stick my index finger into her vagina, so I released my right hand from behind her back and brought it to rest on the inside of her left thigh. While maintaining the clit circles, I slid my hand down past her hip and just below my chin. I slowly inserted my finger into my mom as she let out a high-pitched squeal, like a little girl! She was so wet, it slid in and out with ease. In a moment, one finger became two and finally three were being thrust with gusto into mom.

“That’s good, Greg. Yes! Now, keep doing that and LIGHTLY put that sweet mouth of yours on my clit and suck it.” She spoke in a very clear and demanding voice now, almost as if she were angry with me. The smile was gone from her face and she was all business all of a sudden.

The second I made mouth contact with her clit, she shuddered and back away quickly. “I said LIGHTLY, Greg!” she said firmly. I tried once more, barely touching her sensitive pink clit with my lips as her body tensed again then began to relax slightly after I got the hang of it. “Nice, Greg….very nice…” she whispered.

A felt a drip of wetness on my thigh and removed my fingers from inside mom to wipe it off. The wet spot was slippery, and I saw that its source was a pool of mom’s own pussy juice that had spilled over the edge of the table in a small cascade.

Noticing this as well, mom said “Looks like someone has got his mom all wet and excited! Now, get that sweet mouth back on my clit and finish your job!”

Ever obedient, I assumed my previous position only this time without the fingering. Lightly surrounding her clitoris with my lips, I once again initiated my circular tongue dance. Low, rhythmic moans of pleasure grew from low in her throat. I had figured out this cunnilingus thing fairly quickly and was now deriving as much pleasure from it as my mom. I closed my eyes, savored the sweetness of her natural liquor and the sounds of her ecstatic song. We were working together now as one unit, mother and son lost together in mutual passion.

Once again she instructed me, “Keep doing exactly what you are doing, Greg. Do not stop, understand?” Her voice was demanding yet pleading, delivered in a throaty whisper. I could only hum “mmm, hmm” in reply. I kept at it as she raised kaçak bahis both her ankles over and behind my head, encircling me in a gentle leg lock. She then lay down completely with her back flat on the table

Pulling my head more closely to her pussy with her ankles, her low moans became louder and higher in pitch. I was now able to use greater pressure on her clitoris than before, as I my thick tongue dabbed and swirled over its entire slick mound. She pulled me in even tighter, her hips now gyrating and her moans modulating into full-throated song. My dabbing and swirling remained constant as she bucked to and fro. She played with her brown nipples using thumbs and index fingers.

Mom’s breathing seemed to cease for about 5 seconds, and she became quite still. Then without warning, she unleashed a visceral scream that shook the house. Her body became distorted by convulsing, twittering spasms. Her head actually banged with noticeable force a few times on the table as her eyes rolled back in their sockets. I swear that at that moment, she looked as possessed by demons as a person could look. No woman would ever cum for me that way again, with such unbridled physicality and a complete sense of letting go. It was ugly to watch in a way, but so beautiful because I had created it.

Mom slowly unfolded her legs from behind my head, as she gripped to side of the table to pull herself up. Her hair was a mess and her eyes mere slits. She grabbed her wine glass, took a long sip and said, “Bravo, my boy. Bravo! It has been so long since someone made me feel this womanly and appreciated. I love you so much, Greg! Thank you.”

We hugged in an awkward embrace, my head somewhat lower than hers and nestled against her soft breasts. She held me tight and I could hear her heart beating strongly. I gave her cleavage a few gentle kisses as she took my head with both hands. “Please stand up, Greg,” she said. “There is something else I have to ask of you”.

As I rose, my erect cock showed through my shorts. Mom unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them down as I watched with my arms at my sides. Reaching onto the table between her legs with both hands, she scooped up some of her own juices and massaged them onto my erection. She did this in a backwards hand-over-hand motion, as if she were pulling on a rope. Again reaching to her vagina for more lubrication, she pulled me by my cock closer to her.

“Greg. I need to have you inside me. Right now, there is nothing that I want more than to feel you in there.” she said as she went on stroking me.

“Are you sure, mom”, I whimpered.

“Trust me, hon. I am totally sure. Make your mom happy, okay?” she asked.

The smooth motion of both her hands on my penis was a sight to behold. I swear that it was bigger than ever before in that state of arousal. With it now just inches away from her swollen labia, I came to realization that my virginity was about to come to an end in a matter of seconds. I looked into my mother’s eyes, then breasts, then pubic hair as I drank in all of the beauty of her womanhood. Before I knew it, my legs were shaking and my balls drew in tight.

I launched a substantial salvo of semen onto her pussy, completely drenching her pubic hair in sticky whiteness. We both looked at bit surprised at the volume of ejaculate, given I had already cum just two hours previous. It mostly remained on her pubes with a few streams extending south over her labia.

“Oh, honey!” she exclaimed. She was unable to hide the disappointment in her voice, but nonetheless continued her stroking until only a few drops of cum remained at the tip of my dick.

“I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t know that could happen so soon. It never has before!” I explained pathetically.

“It’s fine, hon, it’s fine.” she answered, patting my shoulders and managing a forced smile. “Please hand me that napkin so mom can clean up, okay?”

I handed her a cloth napkin, which she used to wipe off most of my goo from her crotch. She buttoned back up the shirt she was wearing and slid off of the table. The cum-soaked napkin still in her hand, she came to me and gave me another hug. With the two of us standing, I could now feel the fullness of her embrace and I held her tightly against me. God, she felt so good to hold!

As she backed away slightly and put her hands on my chest, she said “It has been a big day for us both, Greg. I am going up to bed, now. Thank you for a wonderful evening!” She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and went upstairs.

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