Getting up, I leaned over her and tenderly kissed my mother’s lips. Both of our mouths opened; we were both hungry for the contact. I extended my tongue and lightly flicked it over mom’s upper lip, causing her to shiver and whimper.
“Feels different, doesn’t it, mom?”
“Yessss,” she whimpered.
“You like it, though?”
“Oh, yessss,” she almost moaned.
“Let me change the music and then we’ll see how other things feel, too.” Before changing the music, I went into my room and got some incense I had bought in anticipation of this night. Mom had once disclosed that the smell of orange blossoms always made her horny, so I had purchased that particular scent. I set the incense on the coffee table and lit it. “It helps cover the smell of the weed,” I explained.
I then put on another of mom’s favorite albums and the seductive sound of Nina Simone’s I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl reached our ears. I sat down right next to mom and put my arm around her. She snuggled against me, putting her head on my chest as we sat together, stoned, enjoying music. I moved my free hand to her thigh, and placed it high up, my fingers touching where her legs pressed together. No longer cautious, I was ready to take the last bite.
“That is one sexy sound, don’t you think, mom?”
“Mmmmmm” was all she responded.
“Mom, I want you to kiss me, please,” I whispered.
She raised her head from my chest. Her eyes told me all I needed to know. Between the weeks of seduction, the music, the incense, and her chemically-lowered inhibitions, my mom was ready for some loving.
She turned her face up to me and brought her lips to mine. Our lips touched once, briefly, before we pulled back. Then they met again, our lips parted, and for the first time, I felt my mother’s tongue in my mouth. She was tentative at first. I made sure to moan deep in my throat to encourage her. Her tongue sought mine, twining, circling around. When I closed my teeth over her tongue and sucked, I thought she was going to climb into my lap, she pulled me so close!
All pretense was gone. We were not kissing as mother and son. No, this was simply a man and a woman doing what came naturally. We were responding in part to a biological urge, but our response was also based on an unshakeable love. This was my mother, my goddess, my love. How could I be expected to not desire her?
We kissed and caressed, our hands bolder than ever before. I ran my palm over her nightgown-clad breasts, feeling her nipples harden to my touch. Mom moaned, her eyes closed, allowing me this pleasure.
I took a hard nipple between my thumb and finger, rolling it as I tugged softly. Mom moaned against my mouth as we kissed, and I noticed her thighs pressing together and relaxing, again and again. Mom was obviously trying to stimulate her pussy. Well, I thought, I’m just the guy for that job! I put my hand under the hem of her nightie and began moving up her legs, skin to skin. Before I reached her panties, though, mom’s hands grabbed my wrists to stop me.
“Oh, my God, Jim, what are we doing? I’m your mother! We can’t do this. It’s so wrong!” I’d been expecting this, and had my response planned.
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