Were those tits the same as they were eight years before? Did they stand as high on a forty six year old woman as they did on the thirty eight year old? To me it seemed so, and I didn’t care if they didn’t, because they were beautiful, and they were in my hands, and very soon I was going to be in the pussy of my first love. Yes, she was my first love and it’s a bond almost as strong as that of a mother and son, and I had them both.
Mom had taught me how to love, physically and emotionally. I came to feel that there was more than just having her body. There was the feeling that she loved me and I loved her as we did all those things that made it so great.
We went to her bedroom and when I took the nightgown and bra completely off, she became self-conscious and said, “I got fat.”
I looked at her like she was crazy. If she had put on a pound or two, it was where any man loves a woman to have it. I said, “You’re more beautiful than you were eight years ago…and do you know something mom, I couldn’t want you more than I do now. I’ve always wanted you, and this.” I put my hand inside her panties and she closed her eyes as I rubbed the wet flesh. I said, “Daniela…”
She said “Yes,” with a breath full of desire. During that summer when we first found each other, that was the word she had always said to me. There was nothing I could ask her that she wouldn’t do. Even the one time I was sorry for what I put her through, she had still said, “Yes.”
When her panties were off, I could see what I had felt, that her pussy was shaved the way she used to do it for me. She had the small patch of hair she kept over her bare folds that I loved to lick and suck. I pointed and said, “Did you stay that way since we were together?”
She said, “Yes.”
I said, “Mom, did you think we were going to be together again?”
She said, “I guess a part of thought so, or hoped so…oh honey, you were the only one that was ever good for me…that I wanted like this…I wanted you for almost a year before you first touched me, and it never stopped…all this time…Jessie, please be inside me now.” I wanted that more than anything.
Mom had enjoyed being taken from behind and we often started our lovemaking with her on the bed on her hands and knees, but now she got on her back and opened her legs. She said, “I want to look at you when you’re inside me, come baby.” Her arms were open and it was a picture of desire that I won’t soon forget.
It was quick, that first time of our second go-round. I entered her pussy and we went from start to finish as if we were racing to see who would come first. Mom won, but not by much. I pumped my mother’s pussy with rapid fire thrusts long after we both came. I knew it wouldn’t be long before we would be at it again, and again.
I floated off into that timeless space that can follow satisfying sex as she talked about how much she’d missed being with me. I felt the stirrings again when my attention turned back to my mother when I saw her doing what she did with her nipples. That summer, I’d watched her many times doing it in the bath, or just sitting in bed. It was idle masturbation. She gently stretched the tips of both of her nipples. Not with her arms crossed, but with her elbows out so that her left hand was on her left tit and her right hand pulled on the nipple of her right tit. I bent over to suck on one of her globes and she fed it to me with a soft moan. She said, “I couldn’t stand it any more Jess. The thought of not having in me ever again was torturing me. This is wrong, isn’t it Jessie? I’m messing up your life.”