Abashed at my selfishness, I gulped an apology.
“Yes, well,” my mother said, spreading her legs, “now you can lick me. Calm down. Take it easy. But please lick me down here.”
My mother splayed her folds, her labia thick and meaty, clitoris a swollen pink nub almost as big as the top joint of my pinkie finger. Entranced by the ugly-beauty of her pussy, I stared for five seconds, aroused by the sight.
“Here,” my mother went on, a finger slipping over that bean. “Kiss me right here.”
I gave my mother all the attention she needed. I licked and I sucked, slurped and fingered on instinct and her instructions. I don’t have a clue how long I spent down on my belly with my mother groaning and mewling, her essence on my tongue, her vulva slick with desire, but I know she came. My mother moaned it out the first time a climax claimed her attention. It wasn’t such a violent, juddering spectacle her sister had made. My mother just breathed out the announcement and then shivered and clawed at the sheet, a quick liquid burst of her release squirting over my tongue.
“Oh God … Divine,” she said, smiling at me, love in her eyes. “Don’t suck my clit any more, Alan,” she said when it was over. “Put a finger inside. I’ll tell you where to rub to make it good for me.”
The second orgasm hit her after she’d shown me just where she liked it. I had two fingers inside her by then, working at what my mother called her special place, up on my knees, the tips of my fingers angled to find the right spot, wrist like a swan’s neck.
That time, when she came, she hauled my head down, kissing with passion and heat while verbalising her joy through bestial grunts.
I carried on kissing my mother as I eased down onto the bed. With our mouths still locked, I next nudged her to get her on to her side.
“From behind,” I said as my mother took her weight on her hip an elbow.
“Spooning,” my mother responded, shoving her bottom at me.
Creased at the waist, my mother half-turned to look back at me. She grinned and nodded and splayed her buttocks.
I held my cock at where her pussy glistened in that concavity between her thighs, my free arm going under the bridge of her torso so I could take hold of one swaying breast. “You’re fucking lovely,” I moaned, sliding into her body.
“So are you,” she said, her bottom against my abdomen. “Better than any fantasy. Fuck me, Alan,” my mother went on with a moan of her own.
In that position, while I moved inside my mother, we did our best to kiss. I wanted to communicate my love to her, to be inside her as much as I could with my tongue and my cock.
While she gasped, my mother said, “You’re always kissing me, darling.”
“I love you,” I said in reply.
“God, yes, you do,” she murmured. “Show me how much. You’ve given me two orgasms, my lover. It’s your turn now. Fuck your mother and come when you want to. Tonight, I want you to stay with me. Sleep here so we can do this again whenever we want. I want my lovely son to stay in my bed tonight.”
I went at my mother by holding her close, the arm under the cage of her ribs in a tight embrace, the weight of her breast in the web of skin between my finger and thumb, my spare hand on her hip so I could pull her against me. I went in as deep as I could, her bottom flattening out on the vigorous in-stroke, skin slapping and thwacking. While we fucked, I moaned out words of love and desire, teasing my mother by telling her I wanted to give her my seed and put a baby inside her.