I’d taken my shower and was sitting at my desk in my pajamas finishing up some school work before going to bed when the Old Man rapped on the door and then stuck his big, square head inside my room without waiting for me to respond. He never waited. He’d just bang on the door a couple times with his ham sized hand and then open it. I couldn’t even indulge in my favorite hobby, jacking-off, when he was home.
“Come down to the den,” he ordered. “I have a few things I want to talk to you about.” Then he left.
I figured it was another review of my duties. He was supposed to leave for Vietnam in two days and he’d made out lists of the stuff I was supposed to do during the year he was gone. It was all there on the corner of my desk. Sheets of duties. He’d had his secretary at the base type up for him. There was a list of daily duties like clean my room, take out the trash, help Mom with the dishes and make sure the house was locked up before going to bed, and there were weekly duties like mow the grass and clean the garage, and there were monthly duties like trim the hedge and check the oil and tire pressure in the car, and there were even seasonal duties like winterize the car and fertilize the lawn. In addition to all those duties there was also a sheet of Do’s and Don’ts. Do be home by ten on week nights and eleven on weekends. Don’t date more than one night a week, etc., etc.
In the days preceding his departure we had been periodically reviewing these lists, ‘directives’, as he called them, to make sure I completely understood them. Of course I understood them! What was there to understand? You’d have thought I was six instead of sixteen and had an IQ in the single digits.
He seemed to think that if I completely understood these ‘directives’ I’d follow them to the letter.
I had no intention of following them, at least not all of them. Why would I do that? He wouldn’t be around to enforce them. Thank God! He’d be off in the jungles of Vietnam. Oh, I’d try to help my mother and try not to cause her any trouble or upset, but I planned to date as often as I wanted, as long as it didn’t bother her, and I had no intention of doing such dumb, pointless stuff as cleaning the garage once week or getting my hair cut every other week! His getting those orders to Vietnam was just about the nicest thing fate could have done for me and I planned to take full advantage of this marvelous gift from the gods!
‘Hate’ would be too strong a word, but I disliked my father intensely. He made a career out of the army and was a major at the time and ran the house like it was one of his army units. He was constantly issuing orders to both me and my mother and he’d get infuriated if they weren’t followed to the letter. Rebellion in the ranks! Stamp it out!
He’d just yell at my mother for her transgressions, but if I screwed up he’d swat me. I missed more than one day of school because of a black-eye that might embarrass the family if I was seen in public. I was big for my age, about six feet and a hundred and sixty pounds, but he was bigger, about six two and two-fifty and it was all muscle. He worked out in the gym for an hour a day and jogged two miles every night before supper, rain, shine, sleet or snow. I didn’t want him to get killed over there and I sure as hell didn’t want him to get wounded, that might mean he’d be sent home early, but I was overjoyed that he was going. It was the best present I could have gotten, better than all my Christmas and Birthday presents rolled into one.
So I finished the sentence I was reading, got on my robe and then hurried down to the den. I didn’t want to piss him off and get swatted for keeping him waiting.
I didn’t see my mother around when I got downstairs and assumed she’d already gone to bed. When I entered the den, his den, he was sitting at his desk and motioned me to the inquisition seat, the chair on the other side of the desk. I sat down and waited, reviewing my assigned tasks in my mind in case there was a quiz. For a few moments he just sat there, a scowl on his heavy face, apparently deep in thought, or as deep in thought as he could get, which I figured was about an eighth of an inch. Then he took a drink from a glass and I noticed that there was a bottle of bourbon and two glasses on the desk. I was surprised. I knew he kept a bottle in the house but he seldom drank. So seldom that I was afraid to snitch more than an occasional sip for fear the loss would be noticed. Then he did something even more surprising. He poured about a shot of bourbon into the empty glass and handed it across the desk to me. I suspected it was a trap of some kind and didn’t reach out for it until he ordered, “Take it! Drink it!”
I did, made the disagreeable face I thought he wanted me to make, like it was the first time I had ever tasted the horrible stuff, and then waited.
He slowly finished his own glass, which had been about half full, and then set it down, looked at me solemnly and then announced, “The sex drive is a very powerful emotion.”
It was a surprising statement coming from him but it was hardly a revelation. I certainly agreed, having thought about little else for the past few years.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he continued, “and the more I’ve thought about it the more concerned I’ve become about going off and leaving you and your mother here. You’re a male so you have strong sex drives. I know that. I was your age once.”
Me and my mother and the sex drive? What was he getting at? Did he think I was going to get carried away by my sex drive and rape my mother? Ridiculous! Besides, he was never my age!
“Your mother has a strong sex drive too,” he confidentially informed me.
Now what? Did he think my mother was going to rape me? That was an interesting idea but even more ridiculous. My mother never even thought about sex. I was certain of that.
“Women do have a sex drive, you know,” he added, perhaps seeing disbelief on my face.
Well, yes. Girls my age had a sex drive. I could agree to that and even give him examples from personal experience, like the time, in the middle of necking, that Sally Konquist had suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, hopped on my knee and rode herself to orgasm. But my mother? Anybody’s mother? Bullshit! Girls got over those dirty desires by the time they’re old enough to be mothers.
“I’m very reluctant to go off and leave those drives without supervision, without the problem being attended too,” he concluded, looking pointedly at me.
How was I supposed to respond to that? I racked my brain trying to figure out what kind of response he wanted. “Dad, you have nothing to worry about,” I assured him, not at all sure what I was assuring him of.
Apparently that wasn’t the right response because he made a face and vehemently shook his large head. “You’re wrong!” he emphatically declared. “There is a great deal to worry about. This year that I’m gone could determine the course of the rest of your life. If you get some girl knocked up, and you have to marry her, that will be the end of your education and your future! You’ll be stuck in some dead-end job with a family to support for the rest of your life!”
I suspected that we were about to add “Don’t fuck!” to my already long list of Don’ts and started to tell him it wasn’t necessary. After all his warnings and horror stories I wasn’t about to get some girl knocked up. I had no intention of sticking my cock into any girl that wasn’t on the pill. I didn’t trust condoms because, in the heat of lust, I didn’t trust myself to put one on and I certainly didn’t trust myself to pull out in time. So far I hadn’t found a girl that I wanted to fuck who was also on the pill and wanted to be fucked and wanted me to do it. I’d certainly looked! Those that I’d dated that weren’t on the pill would usually jack me off, like Janet, my previous girlfriend, had done, or, if I was lucky, suck me off, like Sandy my present girlfriend did. That was fine with me. If they weren’t protected I didn’t want any more than that. I was about to try to explain that to him. Of course I wouldn’t have phrased it that bluntly. But when I opened my mouth he waved me quiet.
“No! It could happen!” he adamantly assured me, shaking his head at the prospect of me, at the age of forty, working as a gas station attendant with a bunch of kids hanging on my belt.
“There is also your mother to consider,” he soberly added. “She’ll be subjected to temptation too. You have no idea what adult males are like. They’re as bad as kids your age. Perhaps worse! There are at least a dozen of my fellow officers, men that I know, men with no principles, that I could name right now, that will be after her as soon as I get on that plane. She might not give in immediately, I know she won’t, but the temptations will be great and they’ll be even greater as the year drags on. It won’t be just sex. She’ll be lonely. No male company. No one to talk to and no one that seems to appreciate her or finds her attractive. Women need to feel that they’re attractive and desirable. What would happen if she weakened and gave in? The family would be destroyed!” he declared emphatically shaking his head in dismay.
He was talking about my mother? My mother? She might stray if she wasn’t told that she was attractive and desirable? That was silly, of course, but if he thought it was necessary I could do that. I wouldn’t even have to lie about it. She was attractive. Much more attractive than most of the moms I knew, I decided, considering it. I didn’t like to think of my mother that way but I tried. She was slim with big boobs. She had a nice ass, a very nice ass. Well, she did. Her face was very attractive. Big brown eyes, a full mouth. Yes, I could sort of understand how men would find her attractive in a sexual way and perhaps try to seduce her. She would never give in, of course. My father was delusional on that score! But if all she needed was to be assured of the fact that she was attractive, I could do that. No problem. I started to tell him that but he waved me quiet again.
“I’ve given this a great deal of thought,” he assured me, “and I’ve decided that the best plan is to kill two birds with one stone and eliminate the problem. My solution may be a little unconventional by conventional standard, but it will solve the problem.” He declared and looked at me and nodded his head as if I understood completely what he was talking about and agreed with him. I didn’t. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he concluded, “I want you to sleep with your mother while I’m gone.”
I didn’t fall out of my chair, but I could have. Had I heard him right? Of course I had. He wanted me to sleep with my mother! I just stared at him in disbelief, my mind racing. But then I thought I understood. We weren’t communicating. To sleep with someone is slang for fucking them. I knew that, but maybe he didn’t. That must be it, I nervously decided. He obviously couldn’t mean what I’d thought he’d meant. He couldn’t mean that! He was using ‘sleep with’ in the literal sense. “You want me to sleep in your room occasionally?” I tentatively asked. I had no idea what that was going to accomplish but if he thought it was important and my agreeing to it would get us off this embarrassing topic I was willing to try it. “Sure, Dad,” I offered. “I can sleep on the floor next to your bed once in awhile if you think it will be of some help.”
“Oh, for Christ sake!” he muttered, looking up at the ceiling for help. “I don’t want you to sleep next to the bed! I want you to sleep in the bed! Let me put this in language you can understand: I want you to fuck your mother!” he snarled slowly and very clearly, glaring at me.
I just stared at him, shocked, flabbergasted, astounded!
“I want you to fuck her twice a week, every Wednesday and Saturday night during the time that I’m gone.”
I couldn’t believe it! I just kept staring at him. It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have to add that to my list because I certainly wasn’t likely to forget it!
“Look, son,” he finally continued more calmly after getting himself under control, “I can understand your surprise, even shock. I know this is unconventional. But I’ve given it a great deal of thought and believe me it’s best for the family. You seem upset by the idea. Frankly, I didn’t think it would bother you. In fact, I thought you’d jump at the chance. Most kids, male kids, want to fuck their mothers. I know I did. Yes, when I was a boy I lusted after your grandmother. That may be hard for you to believe because you only knew her when she was an old woman, but when she was younger she was very attractive and I wanted to have sex with her. I admit it. But maybe you don’t want to have sex with your mother. OK. I can accept that. But look at it this way, it’s for the good of the family and your first duty is to the family. If you don’t do it I’m convinced that within a year your mother will have an affair with someone. Some pussy hound will get to her and then, when I get home from Nam, I’ll find out about it and then I’ll have to divorce her and that will be the end of the family,” he concluded grimly.
“But, Dad,” I protested, “I don’t think she’d do that. She wouldn’t have an affair.”
He just shook his head. “Your loyalty and faith in your mother is commendable but you don’t know her as well as I do. She is a very sensuous woman, a woman of strong desires. Now, will you do this for the family or won’t you?” he demanded, glaring at me, studying me.
I studied him. He was serious. There was no question about that. “OK. I’ll try,” I promised.
“Try?” he asked. “You’ll just try? You aren’t queer are you?” he asked, studying me suspiciously.
“No!” I emphatically declared. “It’s just that I don’t know how she’s going to take it if I start coming on to her,” I explained and helplessly threw up my hands. That was certainly some of it, a big some of it, but it wasn’t all of it. I frankly didn’t know if I could actually fuck my mother even if she agreed to it.
He shook his big head. “Don’t worry about being rejected. She and I have already talked this over and she agrees it’s the best thing.”
“She does?” I asked in total disbelief, my cock stirring at the thought that this wasn’t just some crazy fantasy. This might actually happen!
“Of course!” he impatiently assured me. “You don’t think I’d tell you to do this if I hadn’t squared it with her first, do you? She and I have discussed it thoroughly and she agrees it’s the right course of action. She’s upstairs in bed right now waiting for you,” he informed me with a sly smile.
Jesus Christ! He expected me to go upstairs to their bedroom right now and fuck my mother? And she was upstairs right now laying in their bed waiting for me to come and do it? Jesus Christ! Jesus H. Christ!
He saw my confusion. “Look, son, I know I sprung this on you rather quickly and I know it’s contrary to everything you’ve been taught. For years we train you to respect your mother and not regard her as a sex object and now I’m telling you to go have sex with her. I realize it must be very confusing, but you have to do this. I have to know it will work before I can leave feeling that everything will be fine here at home. I need to know that in order to do my job well over there. Do you understand?
I nodded but I wasn’t really listening. I was hung up on the fact that he wanted me to go upstairs and screw my mother and apparently she was upstairs waiting for me to come and do it.
“Good.” He poured me another drink, almost half a glass this time, and handed it to me. “Drink this and then just go upstairs and climb into bed with your mother. That’s all you have to do. She’ll take care of it from there. I’ll wait down here. Your mother will come down and tell me when it’s over. Take your time. Oh, and don’t worry about getting her pregnant. She can’t have any more kids,” he helpfully added.
I gulped down the drink and wanted to ask for another but he motioned me on my way. I paused for a moment giving him one last chance to tell me this was some kind of sick joke, or perhaps some test to see whether I would do what I was told regardless of how outrageous it was, but he just impatiently waved me on my way again.
If you think I jumped up and raced up the stairs to my parents room following my cock that was sticking out like a divining rod, you’re wrong. I got up and in something of a daze slowly walked up the stairs. I had to think this thing out. It was clear that my old man was serious. He really wanted me to fuck my mother and to keep fucking her during the year he’d be gone. But that was crazy! My mother would never agree to that! Well, would she? Of course not! She may have pretended to agree with him just to get him to shut him up about his dumb idea and leave her alone but she certainly had no intention of spreading her legs for me and inviting me to climb aboard. That was obvious, wasn’t it? Yes it was! Of course it was! I was absolutely convinced of that and despite the fact that I desperately wanted to fuck someone, almost anyone, I was almost relieved. Perhaps I was abnormal, but I’d never had any big fantasies about screwing my mother. It’s true I wanted to see her naked when I was around nine or ten but that was just scientific curiosity. I wanted to know what women in general looked like without their clothes on. It wasn’t personal.
But what if she really had agreed to it? I asked myself as I got to the top of the stairs. What if she not only agreed with it but thought it was a grand idea? What if she really was expecting me to come in there and fuck her? God! That was an exciting thought! I pictured her laying on the bed naked, waiting for me. And with that vision the divining rod did start to protrude from my pajamas, tented out my robe and eagerly pointed my way down the hall toward my parent’s bedroom.
When I got there the door was closed. My knees were shaking, I was short of breath and I had a giant erection. I stood there and tried to collect myself. I got my knees to almost stop shaking and my breathing sort of back to normal but I couldn’t get rid of the erection. Down, you fool! I ordered. But, as usual, it paid no attention. Perhaps I had some qualms about screwing my mother but it didn’t! What would she think if she saw that thing? She’d think that as soon as my old man gave me the OK I’d run up there all ready to jump her bones. It wasn’t like that at all! I wasn’t about to try to screw her unless she made it absolutely clear that she wanted me to do it, and, of course, she wouldn’t do that! My cock was wasting it’s energy. I tried to tell it that but it paid no attention and, when I stood there hesitating, it even tried to knock on the door. I finally reached inside my robe and pulled it up against my stomach and secured it in place with the band of my pajamas. Then, gasping for breath, I lightly tapped on the door.
“Come in,” my mother softly called.
I slowly opened the door and then hesitantly stepped into the darkened room. From the light coming from the hall I could make out my mother’s shape in the bed. She wasn’t lying there nude, spread and waiting. She was under the covers.
“Close the door,” she directed. When I did the room was so dark I couldn’t see a damned thing.
“Come over here to the bed,” she softly instructed me.
I knew about where it was and inched over in that direction in the dark until my leg touched it.
“I want to talk to you. Take off your robe and climb in,” she told me.
I took off my robe and, not knowing what to do with it, dropped it on the floor. I was grateful that the room was too dark for her to see my erection that still seemed to think something requiring his services was going to happen. I knew it wasn’t. She just wanted to talk. She’d said that. “But she asked you to climb in the bed,” my cock eagerly pointed out, breaking loose from my pajama belt. I felt around, pulled back the covers and climbed in the bed with her being very careful to stay on the edge of my side and avoid any contact with her. She was over there in the dark on her side. I was on the other.
“So I gather your father talked to you and explained it all to you,” she said softly in the darkness. There was a husky quality to her voice that I hadn’t heard before.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked, sounding tense. “Have you thought about doing what he wants us to do?”
“Yes,” I told her in the dark. “Mom, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I blurted out. “We can fake it. I mean we just stay up here awhile, maybe bounce around on the bed a little to make some noise, and then you go down and tell him we did it.”
She was quiet for a moment and then declared decisively, “No. We can’t do that. I can’t lie to him. I don’t tell lies. In part because I’m so bad at it. He’ll know it if I try to lie to him. I told him I’d do it, so we have to do it.” Then, after a pause she got up on one elbow and asked, “You don’t want to do it?” She sounded surprised and almost ... what? Hurt? Yes, hurt. Surprised and hurt. Then she added, “The only reason I agreed to this is because he assured me that it was important for you and that you’d be eager to do it. He said all boys want to do it with their moms.”
“Mom, I do want to do it!” I emphatically assured her, speaking for my cock which had broken loose from my pajamas and was tenting up the blankets. My mother was still up on one elbow and I couldn’t be sure, but my eyes were adjusting to the darkness and it didn’t look like she was wearing a nightgown. I thought I could see a bare breast. “It’s just that I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do just because Dad says it’s best for me.” I forced myself to say. My cock tried to bite me and ordered me to shut up.
“It isn’t just for you,” she replied laying back down and covering the bare breast. “It’s also for me and your father. He’s convinced that while he’s gone I’ll give into my sexual frustration and have an affair. I don’t think I would, but I suppose it’s possible. At any rate I don’t want him worrying about it all year and then plaguing me with questions and accusations when he gets home. He’s very possessive and he thinks I’m weak willed. I guess I am. I let him talk me into this. Anyway, if we don’t go through with this he’ll be convinced I’ll be unfaithful to him, and, when he gets home, he’ll be convinced I’ve been unfaithful to him, whether I have or I haven’t. Knowing that, I think might be. I might be unfaithful to him. I doubt if our marriage would survive either that or his suspicions. This way is better. I won’t be tempted and he won’t be suspicious. As he says, it’s unconventional but, if it doesn’t bother you, it’s probably for the best. So, have you ever done this before?” she asked in a throaty but rather business like voice, turning toward me in the bed. “Have you ever had sex with a girl?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “Girls have done it with their hands and mouths, that’s all.”
She got up on her elbow again, exposing her bare breast, and looked at me. “Girls have sucked you?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes,” I confirmed, trying not to stare at her breast.
“Really? I’ve never done that. Your father doesn’t approve of that sort of thing. He thinks it’s perverted. So, I can teach you and you can teach me,” she said and reached over under the covers and slowly slid her hand down across my stomach until it ran into a major obstacle, my erect cock. She took hold of it. He was so excited that I was afraid he might blast off at the mere touch of her hand, but he didn’t.
“Good lord!” she muttered, sliding over next to me. “You certainly do want to do it!” She slid her hand up and down it’s shaft. “God you’re big!” she whispered excitedly in my ear. “I had no idea you were so big! I’ve thought about your cock,” she absently admitted, stroking me. “I’ve wondered how big it was when it was erect, but I had no idea it was this big! You’re as big as your father, maybe even bigger. Do you want to touch me?” she asked, and without waiting for my affirmative response took my hand and put it on her chest just above her breast. I’d been right. She wasn’t wearing a nightgown. She was naked under the covers. She slid my hand down to her breast.
It was the biggest, softest breast I’d ever felt. My hand was shaking but I tried to fondle it gently and then squeezed the large nipple the way Susan liked me to do.
“Oh, that feels nice,” my mother whispered. “Do you want to suck it?” she asked eagerly.
It was a great idea and I desperately wanted to take her breast in my mouth, but not right at that moment. The whole thing seemed like a fantastic, wonderful wet dream and I just wanted to get my cock in her and fuck her as soon as possible, before I had an orgasm from sheer excitement or woke up. There was also the horrible possibility that my parents might, at any moment, come to their senses and put a stop to everything. In my mother’s case that seemed very unlikely. She seemed to be as into this as I was, but my father was another matter. At any moment he might change his mine and come barging into the room, jerk me out of their bed, swat me a few times and order me to my room. So I didn’t want any delays, but she clearly wanted me suck her breast so I reluctantly but eagerly leaned over and took it in my mouth and worked on the nipple with my lips and teeth while she groaned with pleasure. “Bite a little but be gentle,” she needlessly instructed, working faster on my cock.
I finally had to reach down and push her hand away. “Mom, I’m getting too excited,” I explained. “If you keep that up there won’t be anything to tell Dad.” I added, going back to her breast. It felt like the nipple was growing in my mouth. It was certainly becoming harder. She took my hand and moved it down across her stomach to her crotch and her thick thatch of hair. She had more hair than any of the girls I’d fondled. She spread her legs to accommodate me and, despite the fact that my hand was shaking with excitement, I found my way through the tangle without any problem and located her labial lips. She was very wet and my fingers slipped in easily. She moaned when they entered her. I felt around and located the little button that Susan liked me to play with and lightly fondled that. My mother gasped with pleasure. I couldn’t believe I was fingering my own mother, but I was!
“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” she gasped between moans.
“No,” I admitted taking my mouth away from her breast.
“Do you do this with Susan? Do you play with her clitoris this way?” she asked in a throaty voice.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Does she suck your cock after you do this?”
I was shocked that she used the word ‘cock’. I didn’t want to reply to the question but I did. “Yes.”
“God! I can see why!” she muttered, raising her hips to meet my fingers. “Do you lick her cunt too?” she excitedly asked, thrusting against my fingers.
“Sometimes,” I reluctantly admitted.
“Will you lick mine?” she gasped in a whisper.
“Of course. Do you want me to do it now?” I asked, ready to slide down.
“No. No,” she muttered, bucking up rhythmically from the bed. “God, I couldn’t take that right now! Some other time. Lick my cunt some other time.”
“Promise? Do you promise? Nobody’s ever done that. Do you promise?” she demanded.
“Of course!” I wanted to kiss her but I wasn’t sure whether I should or not. What the hell? I was doing everything else! I kissed her and she seemed eager to respond and met my tongue with her tongue and sucked it in her mouth...
After a few moments she broke away and gasped, “I think we’d better do it now, right now! I’m too excited! Doing this with you is too exciting! I can’t wait any longer! You just lay there and I’ll climb on top of you,” she ordered and hurriedly threw back the covers and straddled me.
She eagerly took my cock, quickly fitted it in the opening of her cunt and then sank down on it. “Oh God! Oh my God!” she muttered when it was all the way in.
“Oh God!” I muttered too. Perhaps it’s a family saying. I’d never felt anything so grand! Even Susan’s mouth wasn’t that good! I felt like I was home, like I’d found what I’d been looking for ever since I’d discovered sex. I was like Columbus, Balboa and Magellan all rolled into one. I’d found exactly what they were looking for and I’d done it without even leaving home. My cock wanted to come immediately and stake out this new land as his but I managed to put him off. After that initial thrust my mother slowly moved up and down groaning with each stroke while I tried to concentrate on the presidents of the United States and remember them in order. When I got to Jefferson she started gasping rapidly and moving faster. I tried to think faster.
“Play with my tits,” she whispered.
They were bouncing above me. I wanted to touch them, to love them, but was afraid that if I did I’d come immediately.
“Play with my tits!” This time it was an order.
Concentrating hard on Monroe I reached up with both hands, grabbed them and alternately squeezed them and pinched the hard nipples. “Oh Christ!” she moaned and I felt her hand slide down between us and realized she was fondling her clit. She was muttering something under her breath and I figured out with shock and added excitement it was a string of dirty words. “Fuck! Cock! Cunt! Prick! Fuck! Cock sucker! Mother fucker!” They were words and phrases I’d certainly never heard her use before that night and some I didn’t even know she knew.
I struggled to concentrate on the presidents. When I got to Fillmore she suddenly groaned loudly, gasped, “Fuck me, son! Fuck your mother! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me! Ohhhh!” and it felt like her vagina clamped on my cock and was sucking the sperm out of me.
“Fillmore!” I gasped as I lost control and pumped into her.
When it was over she slowly climbed off and lay down beside me, apparently exhausted. “God, that was good! Too fast, but good! “ she muttered, breathlessly. “I should have slowed down but I couldn’t. It was too exciting! I’ve thought about it too much, fantasized about it too much. Was it good for you?” she asked a moment later.
“God, yes!” I confirmed, barely able to talk. “You’ve thought about doing this? I mean before Dad suggested it?” I asked, astonished, when I got my breath back.”
“Well, yes,” she languidly but reluctantly admitted. “I suspect most mothers think about having sex with their sons once in awhile,” she lightly explained. “Most of them would never admit it, but they do. Of course, I’ve thought of it a lot more since your father started talking about it. But I never, ever would have done anything if he hadn’t talked me into it,” she quickly added. “But thank God he did! That was wonderful! By the way, you did amazingly well!” she declared, patting my thigh. “It’s hard to believe this was your first time. I thought it was going to be ‘wham, bam, thank you mam’, or in this case ‘thank you, Mom’, but you controlled yourself and even waited for me to come first. Your father seldom does that. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yes. No, I haven’t. That my first time.” I confirmed, getting my breath back.
“Well, tomorrow after he leaves we can do it again and take our time,” she said and then added, “Who, or what, is Fillmore? When you came you called out “Fillmore”.
I chuckled. “He was the thirteenth president of the United States. To keep from coming too early I was trying to concentrate on presidents. I got as far as Fillmore.”
She laughed. “Well, review them because tomorrow I want you to get as far as Lincoln.” She reached under the covers and playfully touched my cock again. “God, you’re almost hard again!” she declared, taking hold of it. When she did, it immediately grew. “You are hard! You could do it again!” she whispered excitedly, stroking it. After a moment of fondling she suddenly let go. “No. We’d better not. Your father is waiting. We don’t want to keep him waiting and we certainly don’t want to make him jealous. He might change his mind about all this,” she warned with a chuckle, but she was serious. “We can do it tomorrow. You’d better go to your room now because I have to go down and report that we did it. God, how we did it!” she added exuberantly.
“Mom,” I asked, before getting out of bed, “Is this normal?”
She lay quietly for a moment. “No. Mothers and sons having sex is not exactly normal. Not exactly uncommon, but not normal,” she admitted, and then added with a forced chuckle, “It wouldn’t be so exciting if it was normal. I found it very exciting, didn’t you?”
“God yes!” I quickly assured her.
“I can’t remember being so excited and I certainly wouldn’t have felt that way if it was just plain old normal,” she declared with a soft laugh.
I laughed too, glad she felt good about it. I certainly did. “But that’s not exactly what I meant. I meant when other men are sent to Vietnam, or are gone for a long time, do their sons and wives do this?” I was thinking about the other boys I knew that had fathers in Vietnam. Were they all screwing their mothers?
“Is it bothering you?” she asked, concerned. “Do you feel guilty about it? I don’t feel guilty,” she declared. “In fact, I don’t feel guilty at all,” she added, sounding a little surprised.
“No. I don’t feel guilty. I was just curious,” I told her honestly.
“Well, I don’t know for sure what other people do. This isn’t the sort of thing people openly admit to, or talk about, but I know it isn’t all that unusual for mothers and sons to have sex. That sort of thing goes on all the time whether the family is in the military or not. Since your father and I have been in the service I’ve certainly gotten plenty of hints that other military wives sleep with their sons when their husbands are off on lengthy assignments and I know for a fact that some of them do. Your father didn’t dream this up on his own. Do you remember Colonel Gage?”
“Well, he had a very attractive and sort of flirtatious wife and a son that was a little older than you. Matthew, Matthew Gage. Anyway, Colonel Gage was a good friend of your fathers and when he was assigned to Vietnam he told your father that he had instructed his son to keep his wife sexually satisfied. I’m sure that’s where your father got the idea. But Colonel Gage didn’t think of it either. He got the idea from some friend of his that told his wife and son to sleep together while he was gone. However, I doubt if many military men specifically tell their sons and wives to do it, keep each other sexually satisfied, but I know it happens with or without the husband’s approval. I mean you can’t lock up a woman with normal desires and a teenage boy with raging hormones in the same house for a year, even if they are mother and son, and not expect that something might happen. It does happen. There’s always plenty of gossip and sometimes you can see it by the way the wives and the sons interact in public. They don’t act like mothers and sons. They act like lovers. By the way, we have to be very careful about that. We have to try very hard to act normal. And, of course, you can’t tell anyone,” she warned me, very serious.
“I won’t!” I vehemently promised.
“Go now,” she told me, getting out of bed and putting on her nightgown. “We can do this again tomorrow afternoon after we say goodbye to your father at the airport.”
“I thought we were only supposed to do it twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays,” I reluctantly said from the door watching her and wishing I’d gotten to see more of her nude.
“That’s your father’s schedule, not mine,” she told me with a sly chuckle and then added, “Tomorrow afternoon I want to learn how Susan does it. I want to learn how to suck it.”
That got me instantly hard again and kept me hard all the next day.
As it turned out mother was a slow learner and had to practice repeatedly. After overdoing it in every conceivable position and fashion the first few days after he left we finally settled on a loose schedule of once a night on week days, and twice, day or night, on weekends. As I say, it was a loose schedule and we usually did it more than that. It was a great year! The best of my life but it came to an abrupt end the day my father got home a year later. That was the end of it. I tried to tempt my mother a few times when he was out of the house, but she gently rebuffed me. We were just mother and son again.
At first I was hurt. No. I was devastated! How could she do that? Turn me off that way? I was a better lover than he was! She’d told me that dozens of times. I knew how much she liked sex. They only did it twice a week. With me she could do it every day, or six times a day if she wanted to, and occasionally she did. With me she could do oral sex and I knew how much she liked that, not only having me lick her off, but sucking me off. Sometimes she came just doing that. So how could she just stop and cut me off that way? How could she end it so easily?
I finally realized she could end it easily for the same reason she could start it easily. She wasn’t following the dictates of her own desires either at the beginning or the end. Even though she’d admitted that she’d wanted to do it, wanted to have sex with me, her son, and had fantasized about it, she never would have acted on that impulse if my father hadn’t told her it was OK. He said it was all right to do it, so she did it. When he got home he said it wasn’t all right anymore so she stopped doing it. And even though we’d broken one of the cardinal moral rules, one of the basic social taboos, I don’t think she felt any guilt about that at all. I know I didn’t and still don’t. But why should we? We were both just following orders.