As I pounded her from behind for a long time, my exertions sapped my energy and anger. I stopped. The thought that I was hurting the person I loved and the person that loved me was numbing. I untied her and held her in my arms while I gently stroked from her hair to her breasts and ass and kept repeating, “I’m sorry mom… I’m sorry.”
She was on the verge of tears but she kissed me and said, “It’s okay baby… ” In thinking about it afterwards I realized that she must have been punishing herself too because she never used the ‘safe words’… not once. After a while we talked about it and the realization brought us back to more loving ways.
Things went on for a while status quo and then every so often my mother would go through the charade of telling me that we probably should stop or how I was going to get tired of her as her body aged. I usually answered with something like, “Sure mom, you’d be right if I was only having sex with your body… but I know that I’m always going want you because I love you. It’s you… Robin… that I want to make love to… not just your body.”
She would relent as she always did and tell me to love her always… and she would open herself for me and I would love her… and I would think how it was impossible to do what I was doing… being married and not able or willing to give up the loving of my mother.
Well it was impossible. We went on for about a year while Pearl and I tried having a baby. The Doctors weren’t sure but they thought Pearl might be unable to conceive. This added tension in our relationship but not as much as the phone conversation she overheard.
Freud would probably disagree but I really thought she wasn’t home when I called my mother. Pearl was in another room and hit the speakerphone to make a call. She heard too much. I can imagine the jolt when she heard her husband telling his mother how much he missed her and how much he wanted to sleep with her.
The confrontation was ugly. The names she called me were fitting and understandable. What angered her most was that I wasn’t willing to make excuses; I would only say that I was sorry she was hurt, and I was but I had no intention of stopping. When the emotional tidal wave ended, Pearl suggested that maybe we could find a way to make it work. She said she needed some time and asked me not to see my mother until we sorted it out. I agreed and time seemed to slow to a standstill.
Finally Pearl decided that she wanted out and I didn’t blame her. She left and my mother came to me. As usual, after not having her for so many days, I rushed to be inside her. When that had happened in the past she had said I made love to her in ‘reverse gear’ because I would take her quickly and then after we came, I would kiss and touch her for a long while like foreplay. But my mother always seemed ready for me to be in her… always with creamy drops of moisture to facilitate my entry into her pussy. That night was like that.
After our quick first lovemaking session I was sitting at the edge of the bed and my mother was standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair. I was admiring the curve of her back as it guided my eyes over her well-rounded ass. We were talking and I could feel myself stiffening as I took a virtual tour of the curves and openings. I said “Mom, come here.”