With my release, my balls now were hanging down long and heavy. Mom cupped her hand under my balls, and moved them up and down, squeezed on one and the other like she was testing fruit for ripeness. Then she took her other hand and pulled my penis from its resting place on my balls, took the tip toward her and squeeze the head so the tip opened up, and spoke to it like it was a sock puppet. “Where have you been lately?” With a little forward pressure on my sac she pulled me closer and rested my limp dick between her lips, and gave it a little kiss.
Then Mom got up. “I need to go clean up this mess, it’s stinging me,” and walked away with her thighs a bit apart to keep the cum from running down them.
I pulled up my pants without cleaning, and went out into the kitchen. We were back to mother and son. I was never going to fuck my mother again. I would repeat the act and see her hairy rear in my fantasies for years on, even today. But I had no desire to do it again for real. My mom was finished as well. She had her Marilyn Monroe conquest.
Though I still kept the door open like had done at the start of our adventure. Sometimes I could hear Mom stopping to watch, but now from a distance, from outside the room. Sometimes she was in the kitchen, but still in earshot. I would groan loudly toward the end, “Oh my God, Oh mommy, mommy please, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.”