A Mom's Story Ch. 01

He pulled me onto the bed with him, then reached down to stroke my pussy.

"Take my panties off," I said.

He complied by almost ripping them off, reaching down with one hand and pulling them hard down my legs, tearing them in the process. He tossed them on the floor.

"Easy, baby, I'm right here for you."

"Shut up," he said, rolling on top of me, his legs between mine, forcing them apart.

"Wait," I said. "Can't you go a little slower?"

"I don't want to wait," he said. He had his cock at my opening and got the head in, then pushed in hard. "Take my cock, Virginia. You're gonna be my fucking whore tonight," he said in a tone that was angry, ominous. I felt a sharp stab of fear, like he was attacking me, threatening me. I called out, "Brad, stop!"

"Shut up, bitch," he said. I was shocked at that. He had never spoken to me this way before. He began plunging in and out of me, trying, it seemed to me, to hurt me. Anticipating something more normal I was already wet. Otherwise I could have been damaged. As it was, he was thrusting, grunting with each plunge, his hands pawing my breasts, scratching them.

I forced myself to concentrate and relax and in a few seconds I was OK, but, my god, he was fucking me in a frenzy. I decided to get into it as much as I could until it started to feel OK, then I was with him and responding, wrapping my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, moving with him, taking his hard fucking as best I could. It was thrilling and scary at the same time, sort of like riding a Brahma bull at a rodeo, I imagined, assuming there are women who ride bulls. Anyway, one was fucking me but there was no longer any pleasure for me, no possibility of my cumming. I was just trying to manage him. He was scratching, pinching and pulling at my breasts harder than I like, fucking me like someone deep down inside himself had taken over, a person I didn't know, a crazy side of him that made me shiver.

"You like it this way, don't you, bitch!" He was plunging in and out of me in a frenzy. "I knew it!"

"Easy, Brad, honey. Relax. I'm here for you." I was cooing into his ear, trying to calm him down as he rammed into me, his breath ragged and labored. Then his thrusting picked up. He was in his own world, paying no attention to me at all, so different from any time we had been together before. He pulled at my hair, hurting me. I knew he was close as his pace picked up, smacking into me as hard as he could until his head went back and he slowed and tensed up and then "Ahh," coming out of him as he reached his orgasm, groaning "Ohh Ooo, Ahh" with his thrusts, his eyes closed. He slowed gradually and then stopped, lying with all his weight fully on top of me. We stayed like that for a few seconds, then he pulled out and rolled over on his back.

"Jesus, Virginia, that was great," he said, and I realized the pleasant Brad I thought I knew was just his front and that part of him was and always had been a sham. I would see past the nice exterior to his essential ugliness from now on every time I looked at him. He rolled over to his side of the bed and poured us both a glass of wine. He handed one to me. I had sat up and was leaning back against the headboard, looking down at my bruised and scratched breasts. I was stunned and sickened.

"Brad, what got into you. You scared me."

He looked at me as if he didn't understand that at all. "What are you talking about? I like it that way. I thought you did, too."

"You've never been that rough before," I said.

"I was holding back before," he said. "Get used to it, Virginia. This is the way I like it." He took a big gulp of his wine, swallowing loudly. "Shit, that was great." He took another gulp, then set his wine glass down. "You sure can fuck, baby." He got up and went into the bathroom without bothering to close the door. I heard him fart and then listened to his stream in the bowl. Brad exposed, I thought. Probably his wife found this out on their honeymoon. Suddenly I felt sorry for her.

I sipped my wine, thinking, that's it. I felt dirty and defiled and then, quickly, frightened, realizing I was alone with a man I no longer felt safe with. In my mind I pictured Robbie's face. Why, I don't know. The contrast, I suppose. Robbie's kind eyes. His genuine love for me. I felt anxious and tired. I wanted to go home. Now!

I set glass down and got up in a kind of panic. I wanted to be dressed before he came out of the bathroom. I got my torn panties and put them back on, quickly, hopping from foot to foot, then went out to the living room for my bra and sweater. I put them on out there and went back to the bedroom. Brad was standing just outside the bathroom, his thick cock on its way back up.

"Hey, Babe, just once? I'm ready to go again."

"Brad, please. I need to go home." I was looking around for my skirt, not at him. "I'm tired and it's getting late." I found it and put it on, still not looking at him, zipping the side zipper. "I have to be at work tomorrow early," I said, balancing on one leg, putting on one shoe, then the other. "Don't you?"

He didn't answer. He was disappointed but didn't object. I was so eager to be rid of him and get home and take a shower. While he got dressed I straightened up the place, grabbing the glasses and bottle and taking them to the kitchen. I washed them in the sink and put them away. I poured out the rest of the wine. The bottle went into the garbage. I wiped down the counter. I glanced around. That was about it. I went back to the bedroom to straighten the covers. Brad was almost dressed. We had gone directly from the door to the bedroom, almost, so the place looked like no one had been there. Except for the sheets, maybe, though we hadn't been under them. I would let someone else worry about that. I was standing by the door when he came out of the bedroom. He looked around, I turned out the lights and we left.

The ride home was quiet. I was terribly uncomfortable, my panties wet from Brad's semen leaking out of me. My mind was racing ahead, wondering how I was going to end this. I was working on a strategy to keep our relationship at least on the formal, clearly false-friendly manner most people in the real estate business manage to maintain around each other. It's a very competitive business. A lot of agents cordially hate each other. But I would still be seeing him often, and maybe even involved in business transactions. He wouldn't be difficult or make trouble for me, much as he might like to, as he was married and I wasn't and his company would not appreciate his use of the apartment for his private affairs. I had all the leverage over him I needed.

I saw the light on in Robbie's room as we pulled into our driveway. I turned to Brad. "Thanks for a wonderful evening, Brad. But I'm so tired I can't ask you in. I just need to go to bed."

He looked at me. "You mad, Virginia?"

"No, Brad, just tired." I leaned over to kiss his cheek while reaching for the door.

"OK," he said. "I'll call." He seemed reassured. He turned to me. "That was great, Virginia. You're a terrific fuck. I guess I already said that. I mean that sincerely." His breath was a mix of booze and wine. "Glad the cards are on the table. Let's do this again. Soon."

I didn't say anything to that. I just got out of the car and walked to my door, my key out and ready. I opened it, went inside, closed and locked it, all without a backward glance, leaning my back against it, exhaling in relief, exhaling Brad.

The lights were off inside. I heard Brad back his car out and listened to its fading sound as he drove away, then walked into the kitchen and drank a glass of water.

"Is that you, mom?" I heard Robbie call out from his room.

"Hi honey, Yes it's me."

That seemed to satisfy him and I went upstairs to my room and took off my clothes. I put on a robe and went to the hall bath to take a shower. I stayed in there for I don't know how long, covering myself with soap then letting the hot water wash over me, over my bruised skin and bruised spirit. That would never happen again, I vowed. Never again would I let another man treat me like Brad just had, sexual need or not.

Out of the shower I was almost finished drying myself when the door opened and I saw Robbie's shy eyes watching me. He came in, eyebrows up, a small, inquiring smile on his face. He was in his jockey shorts, his bulge prominent. "You said I could see you," he said.

I turned to look at him. I felt myself blush but I said, "Yes. OK. You may look." I let the towel drop to the floor. Then Robbie pushed his shorts down and stepped out of them. "Robbie, what are you doing?"

"Doesn't seem fair to have something on when you don't," he said, a version, I remembered, of what I had said to him in his room. Again, I was stunned first by his boldness (what a change in my son!), by his beauty, and also the contrast between his beauty and the beast I had just been with. I watched his eager eyes absorb the apparition my full body must have been for him. I hoped mine was the first real woman's body he had ever seen, just standing there in front of him for his admiration and inspection.

"You're so beautiful, mom," he said.

"Thank you, honey." I couldn't take my eyes off him. "You look pretty good yourself." He was breathtaking, his young manhood almost completely engorged, so proud of itself, almost preening for me. I thought about water witchers. Then I saw his eyes drop to my breasts and the red scratch trails and bruises on them.

"What happened? Did Brad do that to you?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I said. "Don't worry about it, Robbie. I'm fine."

Robbie looked at me. He stepped closer, an arm's length away, his expression grave.

He asked again. "Did Brad do that to you?"

"Yes, honey, but don't worry. I'm fine."

"Mom, if he hurts you I'll kill him." The tone of his voice frightened me. It was calm, direct and came so quickly from him. He sounded like an adult, free from doubt and full of determination. Not a boy's voice anymore. Neither was his gaze on me. He reached out his hand and his fingers touched the scratches on my breasts, touching and tracing them ever so lightly and gently, the tips brushing my nipples. I was transfixed., my nipples hardening instantly. "I'm not kidding, mom. If he ever does anything to you, anything, I will hurt him. Badly." There was no hint of bravado in his voice. Instead I heard his resolve and I knew he meant what he was saying. It was thrilling and alarming at the same time. I didn't want him fighting Brad.

"Robbie, don't worry," I said, looking at him, seeing his eyes on my breasts. "I'm fine. And please don't talk like that. I'm not going to see him anymore."

"Because of this?"

"Yes, but please, it's over between us. We won't be seeing him anymore."

"We'd better not. I never did like him."

"You should not be touching me, Robbie."

He looked at me and started to say something but stopped himself. He stepped closer, one hand on my waist, the other on my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall, a step at a time, then pressing himself to me. I could feel the heat of his thick cock against my leg. I was in a trance as his face approached mine, his eyes so intent and focused on me. He kissed me on my mouth, his lips, open, soft and full on mine, moving back and forth . I felt his tongue probing and I opened my mouth to take him, meeting his tongue with my own. He pulled me closer, moving his hips back so his cock could move from my leg to my mound, then pressing it against me, rubbing it back and forth in my pussy hair while his kiss continued.

As a sort of defensive move I reached down and grabbed it, wrapping my fingers around it, wanting to move it away but when I did that he pressed harder against me, and started to move himself against me, my hand like a sleeve for his hot, fully charged cock sliding forward and back. My breasts were mashed against his chest. I was startled by his boldness. I let him. I let it happen. I wanted the kiss to go on and on. I was on fire, my response, its intensity such a surprise to me, and then I felt him tense up, speeding his rapid jutting against me and then a groan from deep inside him and I felt the warm liquid from his cock squirting his seed on me. I had made him cum!

I shrank back as close to the wall as I could, my head down, but Oh no! he mistook that for me saying "no" when what I wanted was for him to press himself even closer to me. I wanted him to take me. I didn't care about his cumming. I could make that happen again quick. It's just what I like to do when I am sure I want the man, sort of lower my head and relax and wait for his advance. He was still thrusting against me but he misunderstood and pulled back. I should have said something but couldn't.

"Jesus, mom," he finally managed to say. "I guess I'm sorry but...." His breathing was very rapid. I thought I could see the expression on his face shifting with strobe rapidity from assertive young man to scared kid and back again. Like he was right on the cusp of something. "I couldn't help it." I looked at him, his face a tangle of desire and confusion. He stroked my temple, kissed me again on my cheek and then on my mouth. A soft lovers kiss that lingered, then our lips brushing back and forth until I leaned my head back to look at him.

"Honey that's OK.." I needed to say something more but I was just as confused about what to do as he was. My hand was still on his cock, milking it reflexively, and then I let it go. It wasn't in me to tell him to take me and I knew it was unfair of me to expect him to know what I wanted him to do. "Robbie," I said. I was stammering. "We have to be careful. What are we doing?" What are we doing, indeed! Why did I say that? I knew perfectly well what we were doing and I wanted it to happen.

He stepped back, looking down at himself, half erect, thick and potent. Gathering itself. "I know what I want to do, mom he took my hand and put it back on his cock, See what you do to me?" Then he pulled me toward him and kissed me again, his cock against me and I returned his kiss and pressed myself back at him. Then he broke away, turned and left the room.

I stood there trembling, still feeling his lips on mine, feeling the touch of him in my hand, like sunglasses you think are tipped up on your forehead but are not there anymore. I wanted to follow him to his room. I needed to be held and comforted, to have his body against mine, and feel him, my darling son, making me feel safe and loved. I was looking for Robbie to make up for the disaster I had just been through. But that was impossible. Or was it? Actually I knew it was not impossible at all. I wanted him like I've never wanted any other man before.

In bed I lay back, my fingertips touching myself, rubbing what remained of his cum into my skin and my pussy, imagining the scene with him on top of me, his hard heat inside me moving with his frantic urgency, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me, the feel of his body against mine, his lips on mine. If I could keep my head about me and relax I would be able to let this happen--hold and caress him, encourage and invite his urgency, invite him to fuck me. I would welcome him inside me. I would teach him how to treat a woman. Yes, I could do that and would love every second of it. And he would be teaching me too, but what I would learn I wasn't sure. I thought maybe I would experience, at last, what it would be like to give myself without reservation to a man I genuinely loved, this man, who happened to be my son, for the first time in my adult life.

There was also something very important going on with Robbie–his becoming himself. He was asking me to help him and all I had to do was extend my hand. He is already twice the man his father ever dreamed of being. He just has to realize it. I was thinking it could be the salvation for both of us. That prospect hung there, suspended in my mind, and then, in the arms of the delicious possibilities that now seemed within reach, I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I woke early and got dressed for our weekly meeting at work. I was wearing a skirt, blouse and cardigan. I was in the kitchen scrambling eggs when Robbie came in.

"Morning," he said, standing there, looking at me.

"Morning, honey, " I said, one hand on the pan handle, the other holding a spatula, meeting his eyes. Then he came over and took my hands. I let go of the pan and spatula and turned to him. He pulled me close to him and kissed me, arms around me, pressing me to him, his front pressed to mine. I melted into him, letting myself relax into him, my hands rubbing his back. He put his hands on my breasts, squeezing and kneading, his mouth open and urgent on mine.

I twisted my head away. "Wait, Robbie, not now. Please."

"It's all I can think about, mom. You, just you. With me. I need it. From you. No one else but you," he said, his face in my neck, kissing it.

Music to my ears. "Easy honey. We have to be careful...think about what we are doing."

"You keep saying that. I've thought about it. I don't think about anything else. I want to do it. The sooner the better."

His hands felt so good on my breasts. He couldn't possibly know how hot he was making me. "Easy baby. You have to eat your breakfast and get to school. We can talk about this some more tonight."

He took my hand and put it on his cock, rock hard under his pants. "Feel it? I know where it goes, mom. Nature says so. And my guy understands that. Just thinking about it makes him hard."

I flushed with embarrassment at what he was saying. "Yes, I know where it goes, Robbie. And, my god, the way you talk, young man!" In spite of myself I was rubbing it. "And yes, I see it's hard." I moved my hand away. "Now sit down and eat your breakfast." I tried to make a joke. "Nature also wants you to eat something. Please."

In the interval the eggs had gotten overcooked, but we ate them anyway. In spite of the tension I was hungry, ravenous, and gulped everthing down. He did too. Then he was up and off for school and I had to hurry to get to the office on time.

"Tonight, mom," Robbie said, as he left. I said nothing, not even goodbye, just watched him on his way out, stopping myself from saying "wait!" He could have turned around and taken me right then and I know I wouldn't have stopped him.

To be continued...