Oh, What a Ride

Oh, What a Ride
By: Babyboy68

My parents split up shortly after my fifteenth birthday, at the end of a long marriage that began with a high school romance, I was the youngest of four, and the last fledgling in the nest. As a result, my mom always called me her Baby Boy.

My dad was an abusive, drunken prick who ruled the house with an iron fist, and he was nearly demonic when he was drunk.

When I was little, he would wait until after my bedtime to start in on Mom, and if the commotion woke me up, I would cry, Dad would yell at Mom to shut that fucking kid up, she would come in, lie down with me, soothe me, and often times fall asleep holding me in her arms.

It didn’t take her long to figure out that if Dad started drinking, and she came to lie down with me, he would leave her alone, pass out, and sleep it off.

Psychotherapists today would try to label this as “grooming,” but I can honestly say that I do not believe that this was her intent. She had simply grown accustomed to feeling safe while she held me. It was more like I was her teddy bear, her protection from her demon.

The first time I ever noticed that my mom had a body was the summer of my fourteenth birthday. She was always looking for things for her and me to do just to escape the house, and one beautiful, sunny Tuesday morning in August she told me we were headed up to the lake to hang out on the beach. I put on my trunks, grabbed a towel, my sunglasses, the sun screen, and some beach essentials while Mom packed us a picnic lunch, then she accompanied me to the car in her usual frumpy assed swimsuit cover-up.

Her attitude was a bit off this morning; she seemed a bit jumpy, and maybe a bit nervous. I just figured Dad had been at her, and put her in a weird mood, and that it would pass once we got settled in on the sand. When we arrived, the beach was pretty much deserted. Some old guy throwing a tennis ball for a chocolate lab on one end, a couple teen girls stretched out on towels with their pert little asses pointed at the sun and their bikini tops untied so there would be no unsightly strap marks on their backs, and us. I thought, in passing, that I just might have to introduce myself later.

We set about spreading out the blanket, setting up the umbrella, and getting settled in to a nice spot near the end of the beach farthest away from the parking lot where we wouldn’t have to worry about any little kids that might show up bothering us.

I sat down on the blanket and peeled off my t-shirt. I noticed that Mom was still standing there in her cover-up staring out at the water as though lost in thought.

“You okay, Mom?”

She appeared to snap back from wherever she had been and said “Yeah, Baby Boy, I’m fine.” Then she looked around, looked back at me, muttered something that sounded like, “Oh, to hell with it,” and began removing her cover-up. First the baggy shorts, then the top.

I’m sure my jaw hit the sand.

Standing before me in the warm, late-morning sunlight was my mother in a bright blue, two-piece swimsuit. Mom had always worn sort of dowdy one-piece suits, many of them with that silly little skirt-looking thing around the bottom that is the bane of all existence to any young buck who likes to stare at girls’ asses. This was a total departure from normal for my mom, and strangely enough, one I happened to like quite a bit.

“Wow! Mom! That looks great! You working on some different tan lines this year?”

I noticed that she blushed a little, then she turned full around slowly while saying, “I decided it was time for something new. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” I asked in my own head. I suddenly felt an odd stirring in my mid-section that I knew I shouldn’t be feeling. Holy shit! Mom was 47 years old, but she sure as hell didn’t look it! She was 5’2” tall, 120 lbs., a nice, but not over exaggerated hour-glass figure, and why the hell am I noticing that she has a tight, perfect, heart-shaped ass, and what appear to be some pretty firm D-cup breasts? Why am I suddenly sporting a semi, heading fast toward full on erection looking at my mom? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop staring?

“It looks bitchin’ on you.”

I spent a lot of time in the water that day. I could not stop staring at her, and I didn’t want her to see the erection that she was causing. I was excited and embarrassed at the same time, I felt somewhat odd the first time I cranked off an orgasm out in the water just looking at her. But that didn’t stop me from jacking several more loads into the lake as the day moved forward. I knew I shouldn’t, but I just couldn’t stop partaking in the secret thrill that looking at her body gave me.

I also didn’t bother going to introduce myself to the two girls in their bikinis.

I didn’t notice it at the time, but looking back on it, after that day Mom changed. There were times she would lean over to refill my glass at breakfast and her robe would open just enough to give me a good view of her tits. I know now that she caught me staring at times, but she never said a word, and neither did I. She was still coming in and wrapping me up in her arms at night when Dad was on the rampage, but I was so accustomed to it that I barely noticed it, but when I did notice it, I was glad that my back was always to her. How embarrassing would it be to have Mom find me wrapped in her arms sporting a full erection?

When my parents split, Mom and I moved into a nice, 2-bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor of a secure building because she was still terrified of Dad.

Many nights, in spite of the fact that I was now a teenager and nearly a foot taller than her, if she was just feeling scared, or having bad dreams, she would still crawl into bed with me and fall asleep holding me. I always slept in my underwear, and she always wore a night shirt of some kind, so the only thought I ever gave it was when I was in the shower, or had a little alone time, only then allowing myself to think about how her arms felt wrapped around me, how her breasts felt pressed into my back, and wondering what it would be like if we were naked.

But it still felt a little weird that thinking of my mom could get me hard. Was this thinking normal? Was I some kind of deviant? How did I keep this from her? I didn’t want her thinking that there was something wrong with me.

I’d had dirt bikes beginning at age 9, and my dad always had a bike. My mom constantly railed about how much she hated them, and was terrified of them, yet she spent many a summer’s day at the local motocross track cheering her baby boy on to victory (or defeat).

That all ended when we moved. Dad sold my bikes before I could get them out of his garage. I can’t begin to tell you the crushing psychological effects this had, and if I ever actually needed a reason to hate the man more, this was the final nail in his coffin.

My 17th birthday fell on a beautiful, sunny, warm Friday in mid-June. This year, Mom had taken the day off work, and we spent the morning wandering around the mall looking for things to buy. Mom was a lot more chipper than I had seen her in a long time, and I just assumed that it was because it was a nice day, and she had taken the day off to spend with me.

We got home around 12:30, and Mom told me to have a seat at the table because she had a special birthday surprise for me, then she ran down the hall toward her room. “Oh great,” I thought. “Here comes another pair of lame-ass socks.” I didn’t even think about a car because I already had one.

When Mom returned, she presented me with a small gift-wrapped box, a little bigger than a necklace box, with a red bow on top that was bigger than the box. I unwrapped and opened it to find two keys inside. Two motorcycle keys from the look of it. HOLY SHIT! I was dumbfounded!

Before I could regain any sense of composure, or consider what was in my hand, Mom grabbed my other hand and pulled me out to the back parking lot of our apartment building, I swear she was so excited she was almost pulling my shoulder out of the socket. We came out the back door of the building, and there sat the street bike that I had been saving money for two years to buy with a giant red bow stuck to the middle of the windshield. She’d paid the guy at the dealership extra to deliver it.

I almost crushed the life out of her with the hug, planted a giant kiss on her cheek, and was excitedly babbling “Wow!” and “Thank you!” and “I love you, Mom!” like those were the only words I knew. Her reply was to throw her leg over the saddle, slide to the back, and say excitedly, “Take me for a ride, Baby Boy!”

“Mom? Did you forget that you hate motorcycles?”

She giggled and gave me that impish, sideways smile she had that always indicated she was up to some kind of mischief that would get her smacked around if Dad found out, and said, “No, I hated your father on a motorcycle. He has never ridden well, and how that man is still alive today is a mystery to me. I could never say that though, because there would have been hell to pay, so I just pretended to hate them all these years. I’ve watched you ride through things on the track that riders behind you got destroyed by. I know you’re safe, I trust you. Now let’s go!”

I swung onto the seat, her arms came around my waist, and her hands came to rest, one over the other…on my crotch.

“Uhhh, Mom? A little low there.”

“Oh! Sorry!”

She giggled again, locked her hands across my middle and hugged me so tight I could feel the firmness of her breasts mashed tightly against my back. I thumbed the starter, kicked the shifter, and off we went. It never occurred to me that there was a back rest on this bike, and she really didn’t need to hold on to me.

By the time we hit the third stoplight on the way out of town, her hands had dropped back down again. I didn’t think much of it, I just figured that was where they fell naturally. I could see the huge smile on her face in my mirror, she was comfortable. I could feel her breasts against my back, and her thighs cinching tightly across my hips, I had the bike I’d wanted forever. All was absolutely right with the world.

Between the excitement of the new bike, the vibration of the road, the firm tits against my back, and the bouncing of my mom’s cupped hands over my dick every time I hit a rough spot in the road, I spent most of that ride half erect and dripping pre-cum into my underwear.

Mom and I had always shared a relationship where we could talk about absolutely anything, so we talked about lots of things that afternoon as the miles rolled by. Dad mostly, and their history together, him taking her virginity at age 16, him being the only man she’d ever been with. We also talked about my various girlfriends, plans for the rest of the summer, and maybe a road trip on the bike as long as I wasn’t too embarrassed to be seen with my mom riding with me, and whatever other random thoughts came into our heads. We returned home a little after dark.

Mom said she was going to shower and head to bed. I told her to let me know when she was done because I was next. In my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about her hands being cupped over my cock for nearly the entire trip as I stripped and put on my bathrobe for the short trip to the shower. A few minutes later, Mom tapped her nails on my door and told me the shower was open, and I headed to the bathroom a little more than half hard.

My room was at the end of the hall. As I walked out, Mom’s door was 90-degrees to my immediate left. The bathroom was six paces down the hall on the right. I stepped into the shower fully erect, head still spinning, and thinking about Mom’s hands.

Soaping up in the shower, my hand just barely slid down the length of my shaft and I was so turned on and excited by the events of the day that I blew a bucket of cum all over the shower door while fighting the feeling that my knees were going to buckle, thinking: “Jesus! I hope she rides with me again, that was fucking intense!” I’ve always been a high-volume ejaculator, and tonight was only different in the fact that there seemed to be a ton more than usual.

After my shower, I stepped out into the hall and noticed that Mom’s door was still open and her light was on. Strange, she normally sleeps with it closed. Maybe she’s in the kitchen getting a snack or something?

I padded silently down the hall, glanced in, and there, on her bed, feet pointed at the door, bare-ass naked, was my mom with the middle and ring fingers of her right hand slamming in and out of her pussy.

I was mesmerized! I’d been with a number of girls at this point, so nude women weren’t a new thing to me, but Mom had always been fairly modest. I mean, sure, I’d caught glimpses when her robe would fall open a little, but I had never seen the full package displayed all at once before. Holy fuck! She was amazingly hot! I couldn’t believe I was standing there staring at her, bare for all to see, masturbating as though she’d forgotten her door was open, thinking of how amazingly hot she is. Was I really thinking how hot my mom was? I certainly was…and I was somehow okay with that.

She never looked up, never acknowledged my presence, for all I knew at that moment she didn’t even know I was on the same planet as her. All the while my cock was growing, parting my robe on its own, and pointing proudly at the ceiling.

After about a minute, I quietly slipped into my room, trying not to let the door make any noise as I closed it. I didn’t want Mom to know I’d seen her and be embarrassed.

I dropped my robe in the middle of the floor and hit the bed ready to rub out another orgasmic explosion, still not believing everything that had happened that day, or what I’d just seen. There was a tap of fingernails on my door that I knew all too well.

Shit!

I yanked the covers over me quick and rolled away from the door so she wouldn’t see my rock hard prick. “Come in, Mom.” I heard the door open, and my mom asked, “May I lay down with you for a while, Baby Boy?”

The voice in my head was screaming, “OH FUCK!! I’M FUCKING NAKED AND HARD AS A ROCK, SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” but I managed to calm a little and say, “Sh..Sure, but I haven’t got dressed from the shower yet, wanna give me a minute?”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she said. “I used to change your diapers, you know. I’ve seen you naked before, although I will admit, you were MUCH smaller at the time.” And then there was that giggle again. Oh my God, that giggle!

I felt her pick up the corner of the sheet and slip into bed behind me, one arm sliding under my pillow, the other hand curling over my waist and around my chest into the position I’ve known my entire life, and had come to find just as comforting as Mom did. My mind was racing over all the embarrassing thoughts every teen-aged boy has about his mom even glimpsing him naked, much less lying down in bed with him while he’s naked with a dick he could drill through a diamond with.

I felt her warmth as she snuggled in, and my brain froze. Then realization set in and I was thinking, “Wait a second! That doesn’t feel like cloth? Those are bare tits on my back! WHAT THE FUCK?”

As I was processing the fact that I could now feel my mom’s bare breasts on my bare back and not her usual nightie against my skin, I suddenly realized that I could also feel her bare pelvis pressing against my bare ass, and, I swear to God, I could feel every single pubic hair! Mom whispered into my ear in a low, sultry voice I had never heard from her before “Did you like what you saw, Baby Boy?”

My brain reeled in a rapid fire succession of thoughts that I can only describe as an auctioneer who has just smoked a gram of crack and snorted half a kilo of cocaine.

“What the hell do I say?Do I lie and tell her I didn’t see anything?Do I say yes?Do I say no?Am I dreaming?Am I going insane?Am I really feeling my mom’s beautiful body NAKED against mine?Is this a practical joke?Is this REALLY happening?Did my cock somehow just get even harder than it already was?Am I going to Hell for the thoughts I’m having right now?Holy fuck!”

All I could manage was a weak “Uhhhhh…”

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Her hand slid down my belly and wrapped itself gently around my shaft. “I saw that you liked it, and that’s why I’m here. You looked a little distressed, and I thought you might want some help.”

With that, Mom pulled away from me a little, grabbed my shoulder, rolled me over onto my back, swung her body over mine, and proceeded to slowly kiss her way down my belly. Using her knees, she pushed my legs apart as she slid those beautiful tits down my torso, making sure my cock slipped between them as she went.

She kissed a path down to the left of my shaft, then her tongue found its way to the base of my balls, and slowly began sliding upward, lightly dancing a trail up between them. Her tongue slid even slower up the length of my shaft, then circled around the head twice when she reached the top, licking the pre-cum that was nearly covering the entire head. She quietly let out an, “Mmmmmmm,” then oh so agonizingly slowly her lips parted and she began taking my cock into her mouth.

Time stood still. I could feel the warmth of her mouth engulfing first the head of my cock, then sliding down the shaft, moving so slowly that I could barely tell she was moving at all, her tongue would occasionally flicker across that sensitive spot at the base of my head as she slid down, down, down, until I could feel that her lips were halfway down the length, and I had already hit the back of her throat. Then she began the same excruciatingly slow return up the shaft, I swear it took her two full minutes to get down, and she was moving even slower on the way back up.

I could feel the orgasm beginning to build, and I groaned. “Oh Jesus, Mom! You’re going to make me cum,” but she just kept slowly sliding up my shaft. When her lips slipped up against the base of the head, I was done. I moaned, “Oh my God! Mom!” and then exploded another bucket of cum. So much that Mom couldn’t keep up with the flow. Within seconds I could feel cum sliding back down my shaft, over my balls, and into the crack of my ass, and I was still pumping it out!

After my orgasm subsided, Mom giggled again and said, “Goodness, Baby Boy, where do you store all of that?” She then proceeded to lick me clean. When she was done, she slid her body up mine, straddling my belly, I could feel her pussy against my stomach, she was so fucking wet! Soaking wet, dripping wet! Leaving a snail trail on my skin wet. Then she kissed me full on the mouth, long and deep, her tongue parting my lips, then dancing the tango with mine as my hands slid lightly down her body and cupped her oh so perfectly heart-shaped, tight ass.

At 17, this was the first time I had tasted my own cum, but I didn’t care, my mind was racing elsewhere.

“I’ve had blowjobs before,but nothing like this.My mother,of all the people in this world,my fucking mother had just sucked me off,and in the most incredible way I have ever imagined.I can’t believe it!But I have to believe it because now she’s kissing me like a lover,her hot,dripping wet pussy is grinding against my belly,those wonderful,perfect tits are smashed into my chest,and I can taste my own nut on her lips!”

Amid the auctioneer’s spew, my thoughts were bouncing between “This is SO fucking dirty, and so fucking wrong,” and “God, please don’t ever let this end.”

Mom broke the kiss, pushed up a little, smiled, giggled again, then asked, “Does my baby boy know how to return the favor?”

My mind screamed “HOLY SHIT! MOM WANTS YOU TO GO DOWN ON HER!” while I simply grinned and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

I rolled us over, pinning her to my bed, and kissing her again. Then, I began working my way down, kissing and nibbling at her neck, hearing her moan in pleasure, feeling her body press into mine with every move, kissing, sucking, nipping at the nipples that had provided me sustenance so long ago. Nothing in them tonight, though the nerve endings in her nipples, when stimulated by my mouth, made her pelvis thrust against my body. Her moans and gasps become louder and more frequent.

I slid my tongue down her body, and as I reached her patch of well-trimmed hair, I slipped my arms under her thighs, and wrapped them back around, bringing my hands to rest across her belly.

My tongue slid to the right, working my way around until the tip of my tongue found the crease between her thigh and pelvis, where I kissed and licked, teasing, then I switched to the other side. Her hips were bucking toward my mouth, but I was feeling her movements, anticipating them, moving with them to keep my tongue exactly where I wanted it to be. She was so wet that even the insides of her thighs were coated, and so were my cheeks. I couldn’t believe I was actually tasting my mom’s juices!

When I felt she could take no more, I let the tip of my tongue just barely slip between her labia and slide an upward path just barely parting them as it went. She let out a loud moan and again thrust her hips at my face. With my arms around her thighs, all I had to do when she thrust at me, was tighten my hold to pin her back down. I might have only one shot at this, and, by God, it’s going to be on my terms.

I slid my hands down her belly and used my fingertips to gently spread her labia, exposing her perfectly shaped clit, and her tightly puckered pussy. Slowly, carefully, I began circling around her clit with the tip of my tongue, not touching it directly, but occasionally lightly brushing the side of my tongue against it as I circled around. Every time I did that her breathing got faster, her gasps got a little louder. Finally I puckered my lips and planted them around her clit, encircling it perfectly, I sucked it gently between my lips, lightly placing my teeth just above it, and began flickering my tongue over it, lightly squeezing it with each flicker. My mom gasped, let out a long moan that rose in pitch until it was nearly a squeal, her hips rose to mash her pussy into my mouth and she came.

My mom was the first squirter I had ever encountered, and she came so hard I felt her hot juices splash onto my neck and pour down my chest into the sheets. I honestly thought she had peed on me until I realized that the sweet scent of her pussy had not changed, it had only intensified. I clamped my arms tight around her thighs so she couldn’t move, and bore into her clit with gusto. Mom came like a machine gun! One, after another, after another, after another. Her cum was soaking into the sheets, and it wasn’t long before the wetness had spread almost to my waist. Finally she grabbed my hair with both hands, yanked my head up, and rasped, “No more, Baby Boy. No more, please! I want to feel you inside of me! I want you to make love to me, NOW!”

Silently, I slid up her body, paying homage to those perfect half-dollar sized dark brown nipples again, and came to rest with my lips against hers, and the head of my cock nuzzled against her dripping pussy lips. After kissing her again, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue, I asked, “Are you sure we want to do this, Mom?”

She moaned, “Oh God, yes, Baby Boy. I want you inside me, but go slow, I’m probably a virgin again. The last time I had sex with your dad was over ten years ago, and you’re bigger soft than he was hard, so please, go easy.”

I began moving my hips in small, slow circles, letting her pussy slowly get my shaft wet, and sliding into her a little more with each circle. I was almost halfway in when she cried “Oh my God!” and came. I could feel her cum spraying my balls and running down the insides of my thighs. My head was screaming “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? THIS IS MOM!” but I couldn’t stop. I was about three-quarters of the way in when the head of my cock pressed into that little hollow just above the cervix and Mom came again. I’m now thinking, “Holy shit! I’ve never had a woman cum this easy before, calm down boy, and savor this. If this is the only chance you ever get, you don’t want it to end too soon.”

After a few slow, easy slides in and out, Mom locked her legs around my hips, digging her heels into my ass like spurs, and made it perfectly clear that she was now in control by slamming me deep into her, digging my cock into that spot above her cervix, and blasting my balls and thighs with her hot cum yet again.

By the time she came for the fifth time, I had no control left, I could feel that tickle just below the head of my cock, and I growled “Fuck! I’m cumming,” and my mom slammed me into her pussy again as I came the third bucketful of the night. Mom came with me, and we were locked together, a quivering, shaking, gasping mess in the middle of a lake of body fluids.

When her death grip on my hips loosened, I noticed that my cock was still so hard that it almost hurt. I began slowly moving, pulling back no more than an inch, then slowly pushing into that special spot, with a little dip of the hips on contact, giving that spot a serious rubdown in slow motion. It took me no more than 8 or 10 pushes into this area, and Mom’s geyser went off again.

By now, the only sounds she can make are the ragged intake of air, followed by the moan of pure ecstasy. I picked up the pace, little by little, until I was hammering her pussy for all it was worth, and she was screaming and exploding all over my cock every 15 to 20 thrusts.

This time it took me a little longer to cum, and there wasn’t quite as much as the last time, but there was still a lot. When I could move again, I could feel the swelling in my member had gone down, so I slowly pulled it out, which caused Mom to spontaneously cum yet again.

I collapsed onto the bed next to her, and she rolled into me, putting her head on my chest, still breathing hard, and still shaking like she had electricity flowing through her entire body. After a few minutes, she said very weakly, “Happy birthday, Baby Boy. Seventeen years ago I pushed you out of that hole, and until now, it was the most incredible feeling I’d ever experienced.”

I replied, “Sure mom, I bet you say that to all your kids.”

She laughed and told me my oldest brother fought to stay in, my sister was breech, and my other brother was so big she thought he was going to split her in half, whereas I had just popped right out, no muss, no fuss. Then she giggled, and joked, “That may have actually been the first time you made me cum”

We talked for a bit, making sure each was okay with what we had just done, and talking about the door we had just opened into our new, future relationship.

“About the time you turned eleven,” Mom said, “you started having erections in your sleep like all boys going through puberty do.”

This made me blush a little, and I protested “Mommmm!”

“As long as we’re laying here naked in a pool of cum, we might as well be open and direct.” She continued, “I couldn’t help but notice that by the time you turned thirteen, you were larger down there than your father.”

“No Way!”

“Way! Do you remember the trip to the beach the summer before we moved?”

“You mean the one where you wore the sizzling hot, blue, two-piece swimsuit? Nope! Don’t think I recall that.”

She giggled and lightly slapped me on the chest. “Brat!”

“Ow! Help! Child Abuse!” I wailed, playfully.

She lifted her head from my chest, craned her neck, and looked at me with a stern raised mom eyebrow perched above a big wide grin and said, “Baby Boy, if the police came right now, I somehow believe that little slap will be far from the worst of our problems.” To which I had to concede that maybe she had a very valid point.

“Anyway, brat, getting back to the day at the beach. I bought that suit just for you.”

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow and ask “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I had not only started noticing that you were going to make some girl very happy someday.” She said as slid her fingertip lightly up the length of my limp shaft, causing it to jump and start to get firm again, then she brought her hand back up to my chest so that her fingers could absently circle through the light tuft of hair beginning to grow at the center of my chest, “But I had also partly suspected, partly hoped, that you had begun noticing me the way I was noticing you. I didn’t know how to open the subject up with you. I was so afraid. Anyway, I saw that swimsuit hanging in the store, looked at how small and revealing it was, tried it on in the fitting room, and I liked it. I remember thinking that if you hadn’t noticed me before, this would cause you to.”

“Mission accomplished, Mom,” I interrupted. She had been lying with her shoulder in the fork of my arm, and my right hand had been cupping her ass, and with my interruption, I gave her ass an appreciative and salacious squeeze.

She giggled and said, “Hush, mister. That morning, as I was putting the suit on, I was terrified. I didn’t know why I was so scared because I knew you wouldn’t say anything mean, but up until that morning nobody but your father had ever seen that much of me on display at once. In fact, I seriously considered sitting there all morning in my cover-up, but what the fuck, eh?”

Up to that moment, I could count on all of my protruding appendages the number of times I’d heard my mother use the word fuck, and eight of those uses were in rapid-fire succession in response to my father, in one of his 2 AM rants, using the word as though it was punctuation. She’d finally grown so weary of it that she shouted “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck! There! I can swear like a drunken sailor too!”

She continued. “The awe in your voice when you asked me about new tan lines made me shiver. I also have a pretty good idea why you spent most of the day in the water, instead of trying to pick up on those two little chippies down the beach.” I snorted laughter at this, and she went on. “It wasn’t long after that when I decided that if I was right about your appreciation of my body, we were leaving your father, so I started accidentally letting my robe fall a little open while watching your eyes, and more importantly, your crotch.”

“Mom! That’s kinda icky!”

She pinched my left nipple just hard enough to make me yip. “Icky is it? Really?” Another pinch and I again had to concede that she had a very valid point.

“I knew I couldn’t just walk in your room, drop my clothes, and tell you to screw me, so for two years I’ve been trying to figure out how to make this happen without driving you away.”

“So you bought me a motorcycle? That’s pretty diabolical, Mom.”

“No, Baby Boy, I didn’t buy you a motorcycle hoping you’d jump me right there in the parking lot in elated thanks,” she shot back. “The first time my hands settled in your lap, it was a pure accident, I didn’t even think about where they were until you said something. As we rode out of town, however, the thrill of the ride, and of having my arms around you, and the vibration of the bike got me horny as hell quick! When my hands slid back down the second time, it was deliberate, and I could tell that you were just as turned on, so I left them there, and kept putting them back every time we stopped somewhere and mounted back up. By the time we got home, I could feel the wet spot in your jeans, and I was glad you couldn’t see the wet spot halfway down the thighs of my jeans. By then I had decided that I was going to have you tonight if I had to come in here, tie you up, and take it by force.”

I laughed and said, “That sounds like it could be fun too,” which caused her to giggle and whisper back “Maybe someday, Baby Boy.”

She made a joke about never thinking she would need to put rubber sheets on my bed again after I’d been potty trained, and I retorted that the wet bed was mostly her.

As if I needed further proof that my father was an absolute failure as a male, she then divulged to me that until about an hour ago, she had believed that the only way she could experience orgasm was through clitoral stimulation. She’d never came as a result of intercourse before. But…with her fingernails walking lightly down my stomach, if I felt up to the challenge, as those nails trailed lightly down the length of my now half-hard dick, she would like to explore this new-found pleasure even more.

We made love again then collapsed into our mess, lying with her spooned against my chest with my cock nestled between the cheeks of her ass, my left arm draped over her waist, and my left hand cupping her right breast, and slept.

We did take that road trip on the bike, and several more, but those are stories for another time. I will say that it was a total thrill checking into a motel with her as Mr. and Mrs.

Road trips were the best. Nobody knew us, the surnames on our licenses matched, so we could flirt, play, and engage publicly as much as we wished without fear of running into people who knew we were mother and son.

Author’s Note: Almost thirty years later, I still have the motorcycle she gave me. It has over 200,000 miles on it, and it still looks and runs like it’s brand new. If you remove the seat, there’s a small storage compartment above the battery. In that compartment is a pill bottle. It is so old and beat up that you can no longer see through it, but inside of it is a lock of her hair. Mom, and all the wonderful sexual memories that began with that motorcycle, are with me every time I throw my leg over the saddle. I’ll even admit that more than a few times while riding, I will think about that first ride, and get hard. Then I can almost hear that giggle of hers. Between that, and the vibration of the bike, I end up filling the crotch of my pants with cum. It’s like Mom’s hands will always be right there holding me tight. We really did have a great ride together.

2 thoughts on “Oh, What a Ride

  1. Love your story, Baby Boy! I know how hard you worked on it, and how personal this is for you, so I want to send out a huge, sincere thanks for sharing this intimate story with us all. Your mom sounds like she was an amazing woman who made the best life she could for you despite the obstacles. I wonder how many sons would be surprised (and excited) to learn that their mom is a squirter! Ha! You’re so lucky that you got to learn that from first hand (or, more accurately, first cock) experience. Your story forces me to wonder if I could have been as brave as your mom if I had a son of my own.

  2. Thank you Rachel. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the fact that you provide such a warm and inviting home for those of us who don’t conform to society’s norms.

    The hardest part of the whole process is the fact that you do not abide lazy writing, but you made the process fun, and now I know what to expect when I submit further chapters of our life.

    Hugs!

    BB68

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