Chapter 3

To say I was shocked would be the understatement of the year. The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I studied the image of the silhouette that had burned its way deep into my mind. The legs, seen from the bottom of the stairs, topped by a healthy set of buttocks partly visible under the skimpy dress, or slip—which was it? The hair, tousled and not straight like Nita’s—but wouldn’t her hair look like that after such an incredibly intense fuck?

Who had I really seen at the top of the stairs?

My mind said it was Mom but my gut roiled at the thought. It couldn’t be! She had been downstairs listening. I was positive of that. Maybe she had followed Nita up the stairs and I had only seen her, carrying her dress because she had taken it off while listening to the wild sex in the elevator room.

In a reversal, my mind now said it was Nita but my nagging gut worried that it might be Mom. Slowly, my mind won and my stomach settled down. Mom had done me a huge favor and I shouldn’t kick a gift horse in the mouth. I turned on the light and went back for my clothes. Dressed, I went upstairs, treading slowly, afraid to run into Mom. I wasn’t sure enough in my mind about what I seen to trust myself for a face to face.

I showered and went straight to bed. The next day, I slipped out of the house without eating breakfast. That night, I avoided Mom. Strange, the first time I’d had Nita Mom had angrily shunned me and here I was staying clear of her after she had handed Nita to me on a platter. What ingratitude!

Still, I was uncomfortable around Mom. Days went by and the unsettled feeling gradually diminished. My worry changed from being afraid of being around her to wondering why she also seemed to be avoiding me. It was after-the-elevator déjà-vu all over. I found myself slipping back into my helpful routine, loading and unloading the dishwasher, tidying up and doing whatever else came to mind.

I couldn’t bring myself to compliment Mom until almost two weeks after the incident. Mom wore what had to be one of the dresses she had bought while shopping with Nita, a wrap that fit snugly around her body. I examined her closely when I thought she wasn’t looking. Did that body match up with what I’d felt downstairs. I gave my head a shake and looked away.

Jesus Christ bonehead. For the last fucking time, it wasn’t Mom!

Why did I persist in this fantasy? I looked back at Mom just as she walked to the dining room table and began arranging flowers. Her legs were strong and well defined. The dress, tighter than her normal affair, outlined a wonderfully feminine derriere. Sumptuous and inviting. She might be older, and my mother, but she definitely had what it took to garner a man’s attention. Why did I want to think it was her downstairs? I was getting so fucking weird. I shook my head again but, despite lingering recriminations, joined Mom at the dining room table.

“That’s a nice dress, Mom. It looks awesome on you.”

“Thanks, it’s nice that someone around here notices what I wear.”

“Is it a special occasion?”

“Does it have to be a special occasion for me to look nice?”

“No.”

“Good,” Mom responded cheerily.

“Well, you do look nice.”

“I hope it makes you feel better. You’ve been down in the dumps since your ‘friend’ visited.”

“Nita? Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Did something bad happen?” Mom pushed the flower stems around with more force.

“Bad? No. I ... we ... it was great, actually. I should, I mean, uh, thanks Mom, for asking her to come over.”

“Actually, she invited herself, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

“But, you’re welcome anyway.”

“Well, thanks again, and yeah, it does make me feel better to see you dressing in a, uh, more fun way.”

Mom laughed. “It is kind of fun, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Mom fiddled with the flowers and I stood in awkward silence behind her. I expected her to finish but she kept moving the flowers about and I realized that maybe she was waiting for me to leave, or to say something more.

“So,” I finally broke down, “do you think Nita will come again?”

“Would you like her to?”

“Yeah, very much.”

“I could call her if you like.”

There was a long pause.

“When?” I choked out.

“How about tomorrow night. It’s Dad’s poker night again.”

Oh yeah. Dad played poker every second Wednesday. Perfect.

“That would be great, Mom.”

I put my finger on her neck, the way I had done before. There was more bare shoulder available with this dress. Mom didn’t even flinch, as if she had expected me to touch her. I stroked the muscle running from her neck to her shoulder.

“She might not come,” Mom said.

“Why? Did she say anything? Was something wrong?”

Mom didn’t answer.

“I wouldn’t want her to be mad,” I said.

“She wasn’t mad, just ... I don’t know. Why don’t I just call her and we’ll see what happens?”

“Okay. Thanks, Mom.”

I leaned closer and gave Mom a light kiss on her right cheek, then skipped lower and brushed my lips against the side of her neck. My erection brushed against the back of her left hip. I pulled my lips pulled away from her skin but stayed close, mouth hovering less than half an inch away. I could feel my hot breath bouncing off Mom’s neck. Mom swayed back slightly and my erection pressed against her left buttock. I didn’t pull away.

“I sure hope she comes,” I whispered.

“We’ll see,” Mom replied.

The next day was Wednesday. I couldn’t get Mom away from Dad long enough to ask her if she had called Nita and whether or not she was coming. Mom seemed to purposely stay near Dad and I started worrying that she hadn’t remembered to call her or that she had and Nita said she wasn’t coming.

As I looked at Mom, trying to will her to hear my request and answer it with a nod or knowing smile, I realized that all thought that the woman I had been with downstairs was Mom had disappeared from my mind. How bizarre for me that have thought that in the first place.

Dinner was very good but when I started to help Mom clean up, partly so I could query her, she slipped away and joined Dad in the living room. By the time I got the dishwasher loaded and started, and got the counters cleared and wiped, Mom had disappeared.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked Dad.

Dad looked up. “I don’t know. She was here a minute ago.” He turned his attention back to the TV.

“Aren’t you playing poker tonight?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I’m up for it tonight.”

Oh my God. He’s going to ruin it.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked again. I needed her help. Did she know about this?

“What’s up?” Mom’s voice rang out.

I turned and caught Mom coming down the stairs. She was wearing the chocolate brown dress. She finished descending the stairs and swept past me into the living room, leaving me in a mist of perfume. I turned and looked at her, now standing in front of Dad’s chair. My gaze was drawn to her legs which looked really nice although I couldn’t see much more than an inch or so above the knee.

“What’s this about your poker night?”

“I think I might not go.”

“Don, it’s your turn next time. You have to go.”

“It is? Oh yeah. I guess I should then.”

“You’d best get ready. You’ll be late.”

Dad got up and rushed upstairs. Mom looked at me. I was about to thank her profusely when her smile disappeared.

“You’re not wearing that to see Nita?”

I looked down at my clothes. Yeah, what’s wrong with this? But I didn’t say it.

“And have a shower while you’re at it,” Mom said.

She spun around and sat down on the couch, crossed her legs and let one stretch out. She picked up the TV remote then looked at me.

“Well?”

I ran up the stairs. In the shower, my cock stood up hard. I soaped it more than anything else but had to quit lest I waste valuable spunk down the drain. I toweled off quickly and ran into my room with the towel wrapped around myself. I picked out some decent clothes, ran back to comb my hair, threw on some of Dad’s aftershave, even though I didn’t shave—I preferred the bristly look—and rushed downstairs.

Nobody was there. I looked outside. Dad’s car was gone and Mom’s was still in the driveway. I looked around for Mom, went back upstairs and checked out my parents’ room. Nobody. I went back downstairs, checked all the rooms again and sat down.

What the fuck? I sat for a few minutes, then got up and went into the kitchen. The door to the basement was ajar. I opened it and looked downstairs, ducking down to peer at the elevator room. The pocket door was open about three inches again. I smiled. They must be down there, waiting for me. I hardened in my pants and reached in to straighten myself.

Put on better clothes for Nita’s visit. Yeah, right. Mom knew I would be taking them off before she even saw me. What a joke.

I used the kitchen light to guide myself down the stairs, walked over to the room and got undressed, piling my clothes neatly to the right of the door. I looked through the gloom at the open rumpus room door and seriously thought about going over there to thank Mom. Thank god I was already naked because otherwise I might have done it without thinking that Mom probably didn’t want to be caught getting ready to listen to me having sex with a woman.

I smiled. Let’s get on with the show.

I slid the door open and stepped inside, naked and ready to receive my bounty. The door slid closed behind me and I walked confidently to the center of the room. She was there, waiting for me. Kneeling like before, wearing the silky fuck-me dress.

I didn’t kneel behind her like before. Instead, I stood behind her and put my fingers on her shoulders on either side of her head. I stroked her lightly and when she tried to turn to look up at me in the darkness, I kept her head facing straight ahead. I rubbed the sides of her face, pushed my fingers around to feel her lips and nose, then pressed my fingertips gently over her closed eyes.

I reached down and grasped the hem of the fuck-me dress and pulled it up. She lifted her arms to let me pull it over her head and off. I tossed it back toward the door. Her arms were still raised above her head, as if she somehow knew I would want to grasp them, to run my hands down along their length, and to explore her cleanly shaved underarms. I bent over and kissed the top of her head, then the side of her face, and finally, her shoulder.

I pushed her arms down and stepped to her right side, grasped her chin and turned her face toward me and up. Dipping slightly, I grasped the hair on top of her head and, with my other hand, fed my cock into her mouth.

She took it without resistance but when she tried to grab my cock with her hand, I batted it away. She didn’t try to interfere again. I shifted my feet to get closer, dipped my hips, and started grinding them toward her head, pushing my cock easily in and out of her mouth. My right hand dropped to the back of her head and pulled it further onto my cock while my left, holding her hair, prevented it from moving completely off my cock on the outstroke.

Fuck, she really knew how to let a man enjoy himself, knew how to suck cock, knew how to let a man fuck her face, was instinctively aware how wonderful it felt for him. I crossed my right foot over her thighs to get more in front of her and started feeding my cock deeper into her mouth in slower thrusts. After several thrusts in succession, I pulled it out to let her get her breath, then started in again. The sound started up after a few minutes when her mouth thickened with saliva. That wonderful squelching sound of cock meshing with mouth. Ahhhh, God, it felt good.

I wanted to spew on her face but was afraid that she would run out of the room to wash it off if I did. So I pulled my cock out and grasped her head, lifting until she stood up. Stepping behind her, I started feeling her, sliding my hands and fingers all over her body, from head to toe, stroking her legs and arms, inside and out, kneading her tits, and brushing over her pubes, kissing here and there, sucking sometimes, nibbling others. I lost track of how long I did this until I noticed that her legs were trembling. It was getting hard for her to stand on her own.

I walked her over to the wall and pressed her gently against it. I spread her legs and her arms, following them out until my hands covered hers. Then, and only then, I started searching for her pussy with my cock. I nudged around unsuccessfully until she began working her ass around to help me, pushing it out and lifting it until my cock was caught underneath.

I slid between her legs under her cheeks for a minute or so until she managed to catch my tip in her slit and I slid into her tunnel which, now thickly wet, still resisted and welcomed at the same time. A long, slow fuck against the wall followed. It was a long time before she pushed me away from the wall with her ass, far enough for her to drop her hands to the floor.

I grasped her hips and started digging into her roughly. She had sent me a signal that she was ready and I wasn’t about to ignore it. Her legs bent under the heaviness of my assault and mine acclimatized to her stance. Soon, she was on her knees, shoulders on the floor, and I was squatting over her, dipping my pole into her accommodating cunt, her hips twisting just enough to make the entry slick each time.

I filled her like that. I couldn’t see but I knew my cum was dripping down the inside of her thighs and the thought of it made me find another squirt to add to the treasure. I straightened my legs when I was finished and stood quietly behind her. She remained in her hunched over position, letting my cum drip down her legs.

After several minutes, I bent over, found her foot, and grasped her ankle. I dragged her back to where I thought the center of the room was, then twisted her legs until she was lying on her back. I got down and she pulled her legs back, obviously thinking I wanted to bend her legs way back to take her hard again. That is what I intended to do but something made me stop.

It was the perfume.

I had smelled it upstairs when Mom whisked by.

The mystery of the silhouette was solved. Now I knew for sure.

My sexual fantasy woman was none other than my mother.

I froze and so did she, sensing that something was wrong. Her legs, half bent and poinsed to be shoved all the way back, dropped until her feet hit the floor and slowly straightened. She was waiting for me to go, to run away. I knew because that was what was going through my mind. But I couldn’t move. Should I confront her and give up this fantastic sex? Play the duped, wounded son and return to Elaine, and my hand? The room echoed our heavy breathing, each of tense, waiting for the traumatic event to unfold. She lay still and I knelt unmoving before her, between her legs. Her lack of response decided me.

I moved. Not up and away but toward her, rising until I was hovering above her. Slowly, I lowered myself until my chest brushed her breasts and my cock dangled on her belly. My face found the side of hers. Her arm curled around my head and her fingers found the side of my face. Another set of fingers threaded into the hair at the back of my head. I let my weight sag lower, squashing her breasts and trapping my hard cock between our bellies.