My mother. My neck.
It was finally going to happen.
I turned back to my mother and placed a kiss on her cute little nose. She smiled up at me.
“You’re so romantic, sweetie,” she laughed. “Be honest with me: have you…”
“Done this before? No.”
“Are you sure you want this? I mean, your first time should be with someone you love.”
I laughed then, a warm, affectionate chuckle like I’d never heard myself issue before, completely unlike my usual cynical snickers.
“Mom, if you only knew how much I love you, how long I’ve wanted you, you’d know how perfect this is.” I planted quick little kisses all over her face, making her shriek and giggle playfully and run her hands up and down my back and up to my hair, gripping tightly as I began kissing slowly down her chin to the nape of her neck.
“I take that as a yes?”
“Yes, mom. I’ve always loved you. I hardly notice other girls.”
“Except your sisters.” She giggled again and hugged me close as I started to blush hotly.
“Don’t worry, baby, it’s okay. But right now, I want your mind on me, okay?”
“Yes, mom. Always…”
Our mouths locked together again in a deep, hard kiss as I reached further up her dress to cup one of her breasts. I flicked my thumb softly back and forth over her gumdrop nipple before I took it between my thumb and forefinger, tugging slightly in a gentle milking motion. Then I remembered the huge crate of milk chilling in the fridge. I was immediately filled with the most erotic images of my mother pouring it all over her gorgeous tan body.
“Mom,” I said in my best mommy-can-I-please voice, something I hadn’t used in years, “Can we do something…kind of weird?”
“What baby” she asked, still frantically rubbing her hands all over me and trailing kisses down the side of my face.
“I asked…if we could do something weird. I…I want to pour milk on you. I want…to lick it off your body.”
She stopped and gave me a look that worried me for a moment.
Oh great, I thought. Way to ruin your one chance…
“Baby…did you read my mind?”
She smiled seductively and slipped off the bed.
As she traipsed playfully toward the door, she turned and asked, “Do you remember that inflatable pool we bought and never used a few years back?”
“Yeah, it’s in the attic, I think.”
“Get it, and meet me in the kitchen.”
I thought I knew what she had in mind, and my heart began beating so fast I thought it would burst.
I ran to the hallway, tripping over myself so many times that the Marx brothers would have been embarrassed to watch, and finally reached the door to the attic. My legs were almost too weak to make the climb, but after a few minutes of frantic rummaging, I managed to find the pool. I ripped it from the box and jumped down the stairs back to the hallway. I don’t even remember the trip to the kitchen, but when I got there, I was greeted by the site of my mother sitting on the kitchen island with the crate full of milk bottles.
“I think there’s enough here. Hurry up and set that pool up. I called your dad and told him you and I were having a very important talk, and that he should take the girls to another movie. A long one. We have a few hours, but I can’t wait much longer, sweetie.”
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