I grew up never really knowing my mother Sharon. She left after giving birth to me having barely graduated high school and unmarried to my father. When I was old enough to ask about her, my father told me that after he had fallen into her spell she took great joy in making him miserable.
My father had passed on many years before she made contact with me and I tried to recall the few stories he had told me about how toxic their relationship had been.
Apparently she loved to make him jealous and watch him fight with the boys she flirted shamelessly with at the school. Years after I was born he found out that she had often shown up uninvited to be passed around at his friends’ parties while he was working overtime. Total strangers would sometimes come up to him wanting to fight and prepared for violence having been twisted into knots by her sick mind games.
She drunkenly crawled out of whatever rock she had been hiding under at my fathers’ funeral, orbiting some greasy punk whose appearance suggested he might know where to score black tar heroin or a fresh iced kidney.
As hard as that ceremony was to get through, I had to admit that upon seeing her she was still a beautiful woman. She was starting to show the mileage of a life of excess and abandon, but I could easily understand what had my father so spellbound. In addition to her beautiful looks she oozed a seductive sluttiness to her sexuality that quickly the pulse of all the men around her.
After stumbling to the podium and causing a huge disruption to the stunned mourners, she was escorted out along with her then boyfriend; only to be seen again six months later at my front door.
She pitched me a storyline that had her the victim of multiple unfortunate circumstances as well as a long series of abusive relationships. I asked how she found me and she pulled out a program from my father’s funeral that was highlighted in yellow around my name for the economy.
I asked what she wanted from me and she conned me into letting her move in “for a few months while she got her shit together”. That was promised over a year before she started stealing from me and selling my stuff to get high and drink or whatever she was killing herself with that week.
I did not have much stuff to begin with, my wife had died of breast cancer years before and we had not planned the estate or any insurance needs properly. I would up losing everything we had worked for and now my own mother was stealing the few conveniences I had accumulated
I banished her from the house, but because she was homeless beyond the clunker van she drove she moved into it and lived in my driveway. I would let her into the house each morning to shower and change clothes, when I got home to use the bathroom and eat, and at night before I went to bed to use the bathroom.
We argued constantly and there were many attempts by her to change the rules or bend the rules or just this one time I promise I’ll never ask again the rules. The rules were the only thing that kept her from selling all my shit I figured.
She would often walk up to the local watering hole on Friday night’s, only to be dropped off by a car that would speed away that Sunday afternoon. I have no idea what kind of men spend time with my mother, but from the few times I saw her interacting with them she seemed to favor the lowest forms of life as well as married men.
We stuck to our routine; sometimes she would have a black eye or a swollen lip but I never asked. Sometimes when I would come alone home drink from my small social circle she would awaken from the noise I made and she never complained.
I dated women from time to time, but none of the relationships ever panned out. Most of the women did not like my widower status and I was not always keen on theirsingle mother/divorcee/psychotic status. I eventually accepted that I had a good run of it, met a woman and fell in love and when she died so did my chances of finding anything beyond companionship.
This came up one night during a conversation that I was having with my mother after she came home drink from the bar on a rare Friday night letdown. She was all wholly up and wearing the kinds of outfits she wore on Friday nights that left little to the imagination about the size of her breasts or the curvature of her ass cheeses.
She started lecturing me hypocritically about dating advice and I cut her off and told her I wasn’t looking any. She asked what I meant and I said that it just was not worth it to meet women, get to know them, date them and then realize that I will never feel what I once felt with my wife and tell yet another woman that it was me and not her.
I let her into the house and she went to the upstairs bathroom, as was theroutine. The shower ran and eventually she came down, only this time instead of being dressed in what she wore to sleep outside she was wearing my robe and a towel around her head.
I asked if she was hungry and when she said no I asked why she was dressed the way she was. Sharon started asking some off the wall questions and I asked her if she was drunk.
She said a little, but then she started getting all weepy and I knew she was drunker than she was admitting. I told her to pull her shit together and get dressed because I was getting ready for bed.
That was when she started going on about never wanting to go that bar again and the guys she was meeting were all assholes and users and on and fucking on. Finally I just asked her if she was trying to tell me she was going to get into rehab and sober up and she just looked at me and said “Actually I was thinking that maybe neither one of us ever has to go out there again. Maybe if you letme move back in I will let you fuck me whenever and however you want.”
In the silence that ensured as the words hung in the air I was deeply aware of the impact the concept had on some primary part of my brain. As repulsed as I was by the very concept I was in a position of power that was extremely rare for most every man on the planet.
From what seemed a thousand miles away I heard my voice creak out slowly “…you’re…my…mother.” As if stating the obvious would dispel the imagery and debauchery that was being flashed into my mind by some unknown and disgusting part of my psyche.
I could feel my erection stiffening involuntarily, the blood rushing and pumping in my member as well as my eardrums. I was both turned on and repulsed and I was trying to interpret the sureal nature reality had started to take on around me. Was I just lightheaded or was this too much for my nervous system to interpret and come up with the appropriate fight or flight response.
I shifted the weight on my feet and found that my knees were a bit rubbery. I shook my head clear and looked back at her.
Her logic…her irrefutable logic…she went on, saying that she was no kind of mother to me and that I had screamed that fact to her face a thousand times or more and did not call her mother but Sharon. There was no anger in her voice, no regret or pettiness, just cold logic. She wore me down, argument-by-argument, point by counterpoint.
The points she made started to make my head spin. She had been no kind of mother to me during my life, I barely knew her. She said things like she was only a woman with the same parts as any woman I could meet on the street, but she would always finish with something wrenching like “except some of those women will not let you fuck them and I will whenever you want to.”
She undid the belt on my robe and parted the material so that her breasts stayed inside the robesbut her stomach and pussy were in clear view. She hit me with “I was a shitty mother and I admit that, but I am also an amazing fuck. I do everything and I take great pride in how I do it. The men who get to fuck me know that I always swallow because I actually like the taste of cum by this time. I had my tubes tied after I gave birth to you because I knew I wasn’t born with that maternal instinct so it’s always been bareback fucking with hat’s off boys and no pulling out. I love taking it up the ass and whenever I am on my period I make sure my man always gets his balls drained because it’s less messy and I secretly love it anyway.”
I couldn’t take hearing this. Her words were both stimulating and something I was trying to tune out. She shunned the robe and walked naked over to the bed. She turned while standing at the foot of the bed and said, “I’m not asking to be your girlfriend, I’m only telling you that I would be your personal cum sponge. You want to dateother women and fuck them; I am never going to interfere. But you might come home some night from a date with a woman that you really wanted to fuck that was just playing games…or promised to suck your dick and then came up with an excuse not to at the last minute.
You might come home that night and still want to fuck. I won’t say no. I won’t refuse any of the times you want to hit it. You might come home from that long night and still want that blowjob. Want that feeling of blowing your nut into a woman’s wet mouth and knowing she doesn’t need any napkin. I won’t say no. I’ll come into any room of the house you are in and blow you then leave the room.”
She started to lie down on my bed and spread her legs. She was still talking about how it made perfect sense and that we both got what we wanted. She said she was just giving the pussy away her whole life and it never amounted to anything. Other than my father no man had ever stayed in her life or protated her the way they swore they would. They all beat her up but no matter how mad I had ever been with her I had never laid a hand on her.
I started reflecting on the times I had been mad at her and it cleared my head a bit. I told her that I knew she was capable of manipulation and this was probably some new gambit or tactic that I wasn’t prepared for. It was time for her to get dressed and go.
She left without saying another word, returning to the bathroom and getting into the normal clothes she would wear to sleep inside her van. I straightened up the house and masturbated furiously in the shower. Had that really happened? That was a side of Sharon I pictured only existing in the parking lots of bars and bowling alleys.
She made such a good argument though. I had fucked exactly one woman since my wife had died. Fucking her had led to a crying jag that let me know I had not properly grieved the loss of my wife and spooked me fromtrying again. And Sharon was right about the men she dated…almost all of the assholes she dated had beaten her up or were only being held at bay by restraining orders.
I avoided Sharon like the plague for a few days, having my neighbor let her in and out while I was ostensibly out of town for business but actually staying in a hotel room those nights.
I went down to the hotel lounge and it was deserted other than the bartender. We struck up the usual small talk and some more patrons started trickling in. Eventually the crowd peaked and the earlier bonding I had performed with the bartender earned me plenty of attention as well as the hilarity of his wit.
I had not even noticed the woman a few barstools over and when I finally did I was hard on myself for overlooking such an obviously available attractive woman. I made eye contact with a guy who had just ordered a drink for her to start walking over and I immediately launched into a conversationation and watched as he returned to his barstool when she moved over to a closer barstool to make our engaging conversation easier to hear.
All the signs of interest were there and we started touching and stealing kisses. The drinks came in rounds and before long we were in my car kissing passwordately. My hand was under her shirt and a nice breast had been freed from the cup of her bra when she abruptly stopped me and started crying about her ex-boyfriend and then killed my boss with her neediness as she worked things out in her mind with some guy at the expense of my time and blue balls.
We returned to the bar so she could use a pay phone to call her ex and I ordered several drinks and slammed them down rapidly. Before she could return to get her stuff at the stool next to mine I cashed out the tab and made for the bathroom where she could see me and then after she turned away I made a sharp left and walked out to my car.
I drive home andthe garage door opener batteries must have died and I was not quite able to line up the car in the driveway so I had to take a few tries and park outside the garage. This woke Sharon up.
She rolled down her window and asked if everything was ok. I told her about the garage door opener and she picked up on my surinary tone. She asked how my night went and I told her I got trapped into giving some chick relationship advice pretty much the whole time.
Sharon listened intently and when I finished she asked me if I had wanted the chicken at the bar to suck my cock. I thought about the question for a while and said that indeed it would have been nice but wasn’t something I had been expecting to happen.
She asked when it went wrong and I did not know what she meant. She asked again, this time getting me to tell her where the horniness ended and the mood was killed. I told her that we were making out and I was feeling on her tits when she just changed gears on me.
Sharon told me to get in the car and I went around to the driver’s side. Her car was always a dumpster of empty containers and I started to talk about going on in to get some sleep. Sharon said she wanted to ask me something and I sat inside the van and closed the door.
Irritated I asked Sharon what she wanted. She asked me if I wanted to know how the night could have turned out. I asked what she meant and she asked me what the name of the girl at the bar had been. I told her and she said, “Okay, now I’m her. We’re back in your car back at the bar. Show me what you were doing and saying and I’ll tell you what you did wrong.”
I told Sharon we were just kissing and after I started to reach under her shirt and inside her bra cup to play with her tits the chick had pulled away. Sharon took my hand and put it under her shirt. She wore no bra and my hand closed over a firm and perky breast with a hardening nipple. The alcohol was clouding my judgment but that was just an excuse because Sharon noticed my hand just lying on her tit like a dead fish and she began moving it with her own.
Sharon said, “I’m not your mom. I’m that girl at the bar and we are in your car. You’re a little drink and you started nodding off but you are back now and my tit wants you to squeeze the nipple.”
I was still frozen, staring at the shape my hand made under her shirt. Sharon reached across the console of her van and started slowly caresing my cock. My erection immediately jumped to life, cramping to find room and making my blue balls ache dully.
The temperature in the car rose by several degrees or else I was on fire. Sharon slowly moved her hand back and forth across my erection and it was throbbing. She had skilled hands and knew the right pressure points and places to pause for effect.
“I personally think this is how the rest of your night went. We met inthe bar and hit it off and then came out to your car where I gave you a mind-bending blowjob…or more than one.” Sharon said, and she began to unbutton my pants.
I did it. I let her. She had won. I watched by dim moonlight and occasional passing headlights as Sharon sucked my cock and sucked it well. She worked it slowly in and out of her mouth and avoided establishing a rhythm. She pushed my pants the rest of the way down my legs and I reclined the seat back.
She would go for a while using one rhythm, but if she sensed I was about to cum she would change gears and push the edge of the envelope again. The only sounds that could be heard were the wet sucking sounds of an intermittent breaking mouth seal and the cool of the ticking metal of my car next to us.
After one particularly intense wave of pleasure, broken only by her starting to include her pumping hand in the equation I thought of my father. This woman had also blown him and nowI understand why he had put up with so much. This woman knew some advanced techniques and labored to maximize every sensing in such a manner that had me wanting her to never make me cum.
But I felt my cum building and my earlier blue balls were really starting to make the pleasure mix with the pain of the need for release. Shame filled me as I realized I was about to put my hand on the back of my mother’s head to control the pace and down stroke of her sucking my cock. She sensed a change in my lust somehow and quickened her pace, sucking and struggling faster with her cheeks drawn in outrageously from success.
It started as a small pain in my lower back and began to build quickly. I opened my eyes just in time to see a neighbor walking his dog cross the sidewalk in front of my cul-de-sac. I did not know him that well, but I recognize my neighbor and knew he was aware of the situation with Sharon being my mother and living in the van in my driveway. Myneighbor would not have approved of the enormous load of cum I began to shoot into Sharon’s gagging mouth. Stifling as much of the sounds as she could, Sharon continued to swallow all of my cum as I watched with morbid fascination while my neighbor’s dog took a dump in my yard. It was all so surreal.
Sharon continued to lick and clean whatever cum and sticky liquid still leaking from my cock when the guilt and remorse settled in. I was some kind of sick fuck to have gotten a blowjob from my own mother. This was some twisted incest shit no matter how old we were or the circumstances. I felt sick and was mortified to still be waiting for my mother to rise from my lap.
My neighbor walked back to his part of the neighborhood and I made a mental note to tell him to keep his dog from shitting in my yard. Sharon straightened up and reclined her seat with a satisfied smile on her face. She had won a victory on some level that face indicated, and she knew that she had convinced me to do something I would not have normally done.
I started to reach for my pants to pull them up and Sharon said, “Give it a few minutes.” I asked her what she means and she said to give myself a few minutes to recover before pulling up my pants. My cock was still twitching and a few drops of clear liquid were resting on the tip of my cock and threatening to slide downwards onto my pants.
Sharon reached over and lifted the drop of fluid with her fingertip and then sucked it off.
“Besides, we’re just getting started…I personally think the girl you met at the bar was getting over a breakup with a boyfriend who cheated on her by revenge-sucking the cock off the next guy she saw, which was you. You stayed in your car and let her work out her problems with her boyfriend by giving her a nice cock to suck all night.”
When Sharon opens her mouth and says these things, it is almost impossible to reply. I want to saysomething or dismiss her remarks, but my sick and twisted mind starts to tell me how much what is being said by her passes the sniff test and what’s that problem.
My cock had started stirring and shifting when she had licked my after-cum off it. She kept talking and my dick was going in and out of awareness of the sluttiness of her suggestions.
A faraway voice that sounded like mine said something about what we did was wrong and we should not be doing this when suddenly Sharon descended back onto my cock. This time my cock was soft and flaccid having just had an orgasm. She sucked on my limp cock like it was the nipple of a baby bottle and after a few minutes of this my cock came back around and starting showing interest.
She was just so relentless when it came to getting my cock hard again. She did not get frustrated, just kept sucking it and being as if it were as hard as the first pass. Before long it was almost as hard as earlierand once again the symphony of her sucking filled the cab of the van.
Sharon sucked greedily at my cock and my mind was filled with the imagery of the men who had been sucked by her before me, a rapid succession of losers but also my father among them. The last though panged me with guilt but a new voice emerged from the darkest depths of my mind and said that none of those fuckers mattered. What matter to this dark part of my mind was that she was not holding back on this blowjob one iota, it was as good as the first one she had ever given me.
Whereas the first time she had taken great pains to avoid establishing predictable laws and worked up to her arsenal of skills slowly, Sharon was going for the prize early and with a sense of purpose. I resisted her until the twisted visual of holding back my cum from spurting into my mother’s mouth actually caused me to cum in her mouth.
Sharon took the spurting load continued to clean my cockwith her tongue and the occasional dip into her mouth. Satisfied nothing more was going to drip out she straightened back up again.
It was really early in the morning and I was now blissfully tired from having unloaded two huge nuts in one evening. Sharon asked how I was holding up and I said I was starting to get a little tired and sleepy. She said the next blowjob would help me get a second wind. She said it so matter-of-factly that I almost didn’t hear it.
I asked her what she meant and she just repeated that the next blowjob would help me get a second wind. I stared at her in silence. She looked differently to me tonight, more beautiful than ever…vulnerable and submissive. All the hard edges I remembered were softer somehow and I found my eyes wandering over her body.
She wasn’t exactly acting bored, but her fidgeting and body movements indicated that she was waiting for time to pass. I asked her if she was ready for me to leave and she said that it wasn’t time for me to leave yet and that there was still cum left in me that needed to get out.
Her filthy comments always shocked me and again I was stricken silent as she looked on at the houses in my neighborhood, seemingly distracted as though waiting for a bus to arrive.
“Exactly how many times are you planning on sucking my dick tonight Sharon?” I asked. She looked straight in the eye and said, “Until no more cum comes out of you.” Then returned to her survey of the street. “Is that even possible?” I asked. “Oh yes, and I assume you that until you start shooting blanks you are going to keep getting blown. I am going to suck your cock all night if that’s what it takes.”
She means it. I lost count around the eighth time I came in Sharon’s eager mouth. All that came out on that eighth go around was a watery splotch of goo that ran thinly across Sharon’s tongue in the early light of dawn. Towards the last two I was coming into her mouth just by her putting it yet again back into her mouth because my cock was so sensitive and there was never any effort or reason to hold back or show stamina.
Sharon started saying that all she wanted anymore was a roof over her head and a bathroom to visit on her own schedule and I immediately felt terribly for our old arrangement. Without having to remind her she started bringing up the times she had stolen from my house or let people in that had stolen from me and she assured me that I did the right thing kicking her out.
“That being said, you are doing the wrong thing letting my good pussy go to waste sitting outside not getting fucked…think about it…you would never go to bed again without a freshly fucked dick.” She said.
After she showed and changed in the bathroom and returned to her van I went inside that morning and slept most of the following Sunday daylight hours away. I woke up with a strange pain in my nuts and what felt like sunburn on my cock. No other woman had ever sucked my cock more than twice in one evening and my cock had now been sucked eight consecutive times in a row.
I showed and had breakfast, then made Sharon what she likes in the morning and took it out to her. She opened the back of her van and we had some small talk. It was difficult to make eye contact with her and I felt awkward. I asked her to join me inside the house and she pulled together a few items and went inside.
We sat down on the couch and after a few minutes of tension filled silence we both started laughing nervously. I asked how she felt about what happened and she deadpanned that she was looking forward to the next time I would allow her to suck my cock.
I admitted to her that I had enjoyed what she had done and that as long as there was no remorse in her mind then I was beginning to accept that the arrangement was indeed mutually beneficial.
I asked how things would work and she said that she would become my sex slave. The rest of the time she would help out around the house and work on her recovery. She indicated that all I would need to do is whip out my dick and point it towards whatever hole on her body that I wanted to fuck and then do so.
Even with no cum left I felt my cock stir at her words. She said that if there was ever a woman that I had wanted to fuck but didn’t get to that I could call her by that woman’s name and fuck her senseless in effigy. She offered to role-play, to wear costumes. I could fuck a nun, a cheerleader, and any other type of woman I wanted or could imagine.
I held off on fucking her as long as I could resist the temptation to, but as I’ll tell you in another story she won that battle as well.
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