Beyond the Borderline Bk. 02

"You certainly did. I may be tired, but I'm not complaining. If it gets to be too much, I can start mainlining Cialis. That, popsicle sticks and duct tape should do the trick."

"You're impossibly silly. Now, it's time to sleep," she smiled. "I want you fully rested for my wake up fuck tomorrow."

"Oh God, back to the salt mines."

"I love you too, Ricky. Now, let's get some rest."

The next day, we found out that the real estate agent was indeed as good as Seamus made him out to be. After only about an hour of discussion about my needs, he found five solid possibilities available for immediate lease. We never even got to numbers four or five, because our third stop was perfect.

Consisting of half of an old three story brick mercantile establishment near the edge of the Gastown district, the building had been recently gutted, the first floor ceiling knocked out and the third floor converted to a spacious apartment. It had the perfect ambience I was seeking, light, airy and quiet, with the added bonus of very high ceilings since the second floor had been essentially removed. Warm hardwood floors and old fashioned plaster lath walls mixed with bare brick completed the appearance. The high ceiling would allow for subtle, indirect soft lighting and a number of natural alcoves provided the opportunity for semi-private, romantic booths.

Mom and I only needed about ten minutes of discussion to make up our minds. By five o'clock that day, we were sitting down with the owner, negotiating the terms. We ended up getting an agreement to combine the three upstairs units into one and got excellent terms on the downstairs as well, with an option for purchase. Once again, Mom was in her element, raising my admiration and love to new heights. That poor building owner never knew what hit him after the bargaining was over.

The following day, we almost didn't make it out to our respective appointments on time, as an intended quick shower together somehow turned into an extended bout of intense anal sex, Mom coming to a shrieking orgasm that had the people in the adjacent suite calling the front desk to complain about the noise.

As we staggered out of the shower, Mom glanced at the clock and swore, "Shit! I've only got 5 minutes to get ready!"

Quickly slipping into her underwear and pantyhose, she donned a blouse and pulled a skirt from the suitcase, and gave it a shake, pulling it over her hips. Glancing over her shoulder as she dashed to the bathroom for her makeup, she called to me.

"Ricky, find me an extra pair of panties and put them in my purse, please."

"Mom?"

"When your son shoots a pint of sperm up your ass, you need to plan ahead, love," she explained merrily. "I can't afford to be leaking during my meeting today. Actually, now that I think about it, be a darling and get me a pack of Kleenex too."

"You got it, my beautiful butt slut."

"God, you're impossible. How am I going to survive the next forty or fifty years?" she asked, rolling her eyes to the heavens.

"Very happily, I hope."

While Mom put the finishing touches on her mascara and lipstick, I had an evil idea. Moving quickly to the wastebasket by our bed, I rummaged until I found the cork from a bottle of wine we had shared the previous evening.

As she swept by me towards the door, I presented it to her with a flourish, waggling my eyebrows.

"Just in case, Mom."

"Jesus H. Christ, Ricky! You are soooo gross sometimes, I want to smack you!" she scolded, also laughing at the same time. Eyes dancing with mirth, she stepped up and gave me a toe-curling kiss.

"I love you, son. Now, I gotta run. Try not to get in too much trouble today. I don't have enough ready cash for bail money."

Also laughing, I kissed back as good as I got. "Love you too, Mom. I'll try to behave. See you later."

Two days later, we were back in New Jersey. If I thought our life was moving quickly before, I was sadly mistaken. We had slightly less than three weeks to get the house on the market, arrange movers and get back to Vancouver. Thank god for Marsh and Shawn. They agreed to keep an eye on the place and keep tabs on how the realtor was doing for us. The movers came about a week after we got back and then, suddenly we were at loose ends.

Mom and I were sitting in the back yard, holding hands, legs dangling in the pool, idly kicking the water as we watched the last of our possessions being taken out of the house to the moving van. It was a wonderful, warm, clear morning, with perfect temperatures and blessedly low humidity, one of the nicest days we'd had in a month. I think we were both feeling a strange combination of excitement and sadness, on one hand looking forward to our new life together, but also thoughts very much on the memories we were leaving behind. I believe we were both remembering Gramps and Nana quite a bit at that moment as well.

We had made arrangements to stay in a motel for about a week before we left for Vancouver, but I don't think we were really looking forward to it. We were discussing how to fill our time until our departure date, when I had an idea.

"Mom, I just had a thought."

"Imagine that. So you're not just a boy-toy then?" she teased.

"I'm trying to be serious here, woman. Show a little respect, if you please."

Leaning her head on my shoulder, she squeezed my hand. "Say away, my son."

"I think we should have a honeymoon."

"Beg pardon?"

"Why are we staying here, Mom? You submitted your letter of resignation before we even left to visit your new practice and Louie doesn't really need me right now, since the summer rush has ended. What do you say we just pack up, get in the car and start driving west?"

"It's a wonderful idea, Ricky! Why didn't I think of that?"

"If we left today, we would probably get to Vancouver about 2 or 3 days before the van is scheduled to show up. That would be just about right to start getting the apartment ready. We could pick up an inflatable bed and rough it until the furniture arrives."

"I love it, darling. It makes me feel so...so bohemian, so spontaneous. Do you think we should plan any reservations, or a particular itinerary?"

"I'd like to be as footloose as possible, but let me get my laptop and we'll figure out a general route."

We quickly decided on a northerly pathway, taking us to Cleveland, Chicago and Minneapolis, then through Montana and on to Spokane and finally, to Bellevue and Puget Sound. With the decision made, we were almost as giddy as children, straining at the leash to get going. We walked across the street to Marsh for a heartfelt, slightly tearful goodbye, threw our suitcases in the car and headed down the street.

We didn't look back.

The trip to Vancouver was amazing. I could spend a hundred pages just recounting the memories from that week alone. The overwhelming recollection of the trip for me though, was and always will be the first real taste of freedom we had as a couple. While we were at home, there was always the need to be careful when out in town, not knowing if we might run into a neighbor or business associate or client of Mom's. To be an anonymous pair, just Rick and Jenny, lovers and self-acknowledged spouses, was a luxury almost beyond comprehension. Simple things like holding hands when walking down a street or kissing in public were special events, to be savored and appreciated at every opportunity.

Oh, yes – then there was the sex.

I already thought Mom was hotter than a Saturday Night Special, but I was unprepared for the onslaught which developed as we traveled across the country. Perhaps some of what I experienced was simply the hormonal effects of her pregnancy, but I truly believe that Mom experienced a real sensual rebirth when we put New Jersey behind us. In surrendering herself to her incestuous desires, she opened a floodgate of long-suppressed carnality that I don't think even she was fully aware of.

Mom loved to fuck. Period. End of story. She was game for anything at any time and seemed to become aroused at a speed that even I could barely keep up with sometimes. That was an eye-opening discovery for a twenty-two year old guy with an already insatiable lust for his mother, I can tell you. I probably should have realized what I was going to be subjected to when we finished packing the car and motored down Middlebury Drive for the last time.

Mom was wearing a brand new, sea green sundress, which ended above her knees (after our Fourth of July celebration, I became a BIG fan of that style and I encouraged her to add as many as we could find to her wardrobe). The color harmonized perfectly with her hair and skin tone. Next to the original July Fourth frock, it was my favorite one. I loved the ethereal, crepe-like weight and texture of the material and the hem length, which perfectly showcased Mom's astounding legs. Like the Fourth of July sundress, the bodice was supported by a looping halter of material, which went around the back of her neck.

As we turned the first corner and our old house was lost from view, Mom casually unbuttoned the halter of the dress, allowing the material to fall to her waist. Slowly and carefully, she unhooked her bra and put it in her handbag. Her exposed pink peaks immediately stiffened in the breeze flowing through the open windows of our car. Then, with equal deliberation, she put herself back together, briefly running her fingers over her nipples after her breasts were concealed again by the fabric of her dress.

Pursing her lips and blowing me a kiss, she reminded me gently, "Eyes on the road, darling boy. I'm just getting comfy for our drive."

"Comfy, my ass, Mom! You're indulging your latent sadistic streak at my expense, as usual," I grumbled.

"What's the matter, Ricky. Don't you like Mommy teasing you, getting your nice cock all hard and slick with precum?"

Unleashing an inarticulate groan, I banged my head against the steering wheel. "Mom, it's bad enough that I have to look at your gorgeous tits and not be able to touch them, but you know what it does to me when you talk sexy like that!"

"I'm just keeping myself entertained for our long trip, Ricky. Surely I'm not supposed to just sit here and count mile markers and telephone poles?"

"You're very cruel to your poor son. Just remember, payback can be a bitch, dear lady."

Sidling over close to me, she lightly squeezed my thigh, whispering, "I'm counting on it, young stud, absolutely counting on it."

As we headed down US 1 towards I-95, Mom zinged me again. When I turned on to the onramp, she lifted her hips and reached under her dress, pulling off a pair of plain, pale green cotton panties. She rubbed her fingers on the obviously damp gusset and brought them to my mouth, allowing me to lick them clean.

"That's going to have to hold you for a while, dear. You'll get your lunch a little later."

"You're a very naughty mommy, you know, feeding your own son your pussy juice."

"And I intend to stay that way," she replied with a laugh. Then, she balled the panties up and threw them out the window. "I'm not going to be needing these for the rest of the trip. I want you to be able to see me, touch me, lick me and fuck me 24/7, Ricky."

"So I'm going to be your on-call boy-toy?"

"There are worse fates for a young man. Do you object?"

"Not on your life, pretty lady."

"Good. Now that we've got that settled, I'm going to relax." Mom then swiveled her hips so she could put her feet on the dash. The sixty mile an hour wind from the open windows billowed under the front of her dress, pushing the material all the way to her waist, exposing her luxuriant bush and succulent pink gash, her moist labia already beginning to flower. Eventually, she simply pulled the entire dress up fully around her waist, explaining, "I don't want to get the back of my dress wet. The upholstery is just going to have to take its chances."

As the miles rolled by, Mom would occasionally run her fingers up and down her slit, diddling her clit lightly and occasionally delving into her channel to feed me more of her delicious wetness. She was having the time of her life, driving me absolutely insane with desire.

We were about a third of the way north on I-476 towards I-80 when I figured out how to exact a small measure of retribution for Mom's teasing. I decided that Mom wasn't the only one in the car who could talk dirty.

"I was thinking, Mom."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"The next time a truck comes by, I think you should show yourself."

"Ricky! Are you out of your mind?"

"I want the world to see my sexy momma's cunt. I want everyone to see how wet you get, how pretty your hairy pussy is. I think it's beautiful and everyone deserves to see it. Don't you want to show off your pussy, Mom? Haven't you always wanted to pull up your dress and see someone get hard looking at you?"

"My God, I've raised a pervert."

"You don't fool me, Mother. I can already see you're getting wetter. Pretty soon it's going to be absolutely flowing out of you. Your thighs will be all creamy and the upholstery under your ass is going to be getting all sticky with your love juice. Before too long, you're going to have to stick your fingers in your wet pussy and give yourself a big cum. You won't be able to help yourself."

"Jesus, Ricky, what's gotten into you?" Mom asked hoarsely. Her hands were trembling and she was unconsciously rubbing her palms on the tops of her bare thighs.

"Well Mom, I just decided that two can play the talking dirty game," I smirked lewdly. "This is my quid pro quo and it certainly looks like your quid likes it," I rasped, reaching across the seat to run my fingers through her dampening bush.

Mom shuddered at my touch and batted my hand away. "Ricky, you are such a nasty boy! I can't believe you want me to expose myself to total strangers."

Closing in for the coup de grace, I played my trump card. "Mom, I have one word for you – Sorvino's."

"Oh, God! You would bring that up, wouldn't you?" she groaned.

Mom was now rubbing the insides of both thighs with her hands, squirming in her seat. Her scent was detectable, even in the strong cross breeze flowing though the open windows of our car. I made my nostrils flare and made me even stiffer than I already was, if that was possible.

"So you recall how I finger fucked your ass, then? Your sweet butthole was so tight and hot, Mom, it was unbelievable. Do you remember how I made you cum right in the middle of the dance floor, where anyone could have seen you?"

"Oohhhhh, Jesus, Ricky. Not fair! Not fair!" she whimpered. Mom's right hand had strayed to her thatch, as though it had a mind of its own. She slowly trailed her index finger across her clit, shuddering in its transit to her opening, which she delicately circled.

"Mom. Don't be silly," I chuckled wickedly. "There are absolutely no rules in this game."

"I remember what it was like when you came," I continued. "You couldn't even stand up. You rubbed your very wet cunt against my thigh while my finger was up your ass. You made such a big wet spot on my leg that I think you probably squirted a little when I got you off. You were so hot, I bet I could have fucked you right in the booth if I wanted to. You needed a big cock so bad right then, I think you would have done anything to get fucked by your son."

"Ohhhhhh, you sweet bastard," Mom moaned. All pretense of control was now gone. She was slumped down in her seat, legs spread wide, two fingers pistoning in and out of her vagina. The seat beneath her was damp with her fluid and there was a distinct squelching sound as she frigged herself. Her head lolled back and to the side, her eyes closed. Her breath came in short, sharp pants as she concentrated on her pleasure.

"That's it, Mom. Touch yourself for me, " I murmured. "Play with your pussy for your son. Show me how you make yourself come. Show me how wet you are."

Reduced to random "ooohs," "ahhhhs", grunts and squeaks of pleasure, Mom continued to furiously finger herself, now thrusting her pelvis up to meet her fingers, breathing in shorter, quicker gasps as she approached her climax. Sensing her nearness to her peak, I reached across to her and began rubbing her clit.

"Come for me, Mom. Come for your son. Play with your pussy and come for me."

"Oh fuck!" Mom arched her back and pulled her fingers from her passage, pushed my hand aside to furiously rub her clit. Shuddering, she thrust her pelvis up, locking her legs with a scream.

"Ah! Ricky!" she cried, a jet of fluid squirting from her to splash against the glove compartment. Two smaller ejaculations followed, one arcing to the floor mat in front of her, the last a smaller dribble which pooled between her twitching thighs. She collapsed back down, sprawled in her seat, head lolling to on side, totally spent, eyes closed.

Searching for a gap in traffic, I carefully maneuvered into the slow lane and pulled over to the shoulder. Mom was still unresponsive, totally knocked out, a small smile on her lips. Looking to be out for the count, I searched in vain for some Kleenexes or napkins to clean up, but there were none to be found. Shrugging my shoulders, I peeled off my ratty tee shirt and tucked it in between her thighs and under her bottom, carefully arranging the top of her dress to cover her thighs.

I rolled up our windows and turned the A/C on, pulling back into the right lane. I consulted the GPS and found that there would be a fast food place about ten minutes up the road. Driving slowly and smoothly so as not to disturb Mom, I took the next exit and pulled into the lot of the burger joint. I exited the car quietly and returned a couple minutes later with a double fist full of napkins and a bottle of water. Mom was still completely out.

After I cleaned off the front of the glove box and the floor mat with damp napkins, I sat next to my lady love, putting my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. I lightly ran my fingers through her hair and traced a fingertip over her cheeks and jawline. Mom smiled gently as my fingers traced over her features, began to stir slightly and then stretched sinuously, opening her eyes. I kissed her lightly on her lips and forehead.

"Welcome back, beautiful."

She took my head in her hands and kissed me firmly. "You are a very, very bad influence on your mother, young man. If I had any strength left, I'd tan your hide. You bring out the slut in me far too easily."

"But I can tell, Mom. She wants to come out, or at least, cum."

Looking me over, she seemed to realize for the first time that I didn't have my tee shirt on.

"Ricky, where's your shirt? What happened..." her voice petered out as she realized where my tee went.

"Oh my."

Reaching beneath her sundress, she extracted the sodden mass of cotton that used to be my shirt.

Blushing furiously, Mom grabbed my hand. "Ricky, did I...uhhh, did I squirt again?"

"Oh yeah. Big time. It was beautiful. When you blasted off into orbit, I had to do a little damage control. I didn't want your dress to get wet. Everything else could wait for cleanup on aisle 9."

Shaking her head in amazement, she kissed my cheek. "Thanks for looking after me, darling."

"Believe me Mom, it was my pleasure, most definitely."

"I guess I better go inside and make myself presentable. I'll be back in a couple minutes, sweetie."

"Take your time Mom. We're not keeping to any schedule."

A short while later, she came back with a sandwich, some fries and a couple of root beers. Settling back into her seat, she grinned. "Post orgasmic munchies," she explained around a mouthful of burger.

After I pulled back on to the interstate, she shared her snack with me, feeding me burger bites and individual french fries by hand, pausing now and then to wipe my mouth with a napkin and give me a kiss. Occasionally, I would capture her fingers with my lips, swirling my tongue suggestively on her fingertips, making her giggle. It was very intimate and warm, leaving me feeling quite spoiled.