A Son's Dangerous Desire:(10)

"Aw...baby. Its a term of endearment. He's brought me a lot of pleasure, after all." then her conversation ceased as she took my cock in her mouth. She had a lot of experience at this. Especially with me, and she was using it all. Her tongue flicked over my most sensitive spots as she smoothly moved up and down on my shaft. And then, just as I was used to it, she started to really deep throat me.

"Oh, fuck, mom. Fuck, what are you doing to me." was all I could get out.

She stopped, looked at me, and said "Well, do you want me to swallow or do you want to fuck me? I need my son's cum, but I don't care how I get it..."

Even then, after fifteen years (more or less) of being together she could drive me wild when she gave me that look and talked like that. She knew what she did to me, and she loved it. She loved knowing that I wanted her so badly, so often.

She also appreciated that despite her being over fifty, i didn't treat her like fine china, to be looked at but never handled, and especially not roughly. She wanted it rough, so I gave it to her.

I reached down and grasped her hair at the base of her head. She gasped as I pulled her off of my cock and brought her forcefully in for a kiss. It was deep and passionate, and we were both breathing heavily afterwards.

I pushed her onto her back. I wanted her to know she was mine. And that I was going to fuck her, hard. She moaned, and spread her legs like a good girl. Normally, I would have loved to have gone down on her for a while, but her wake-up technique and left me needing her cunt, right then.

I pinned her wrists with my hands easily. She struggled but she didn't want to be free. It was easy to tell as I entered her, because her legs wrapped themselves around me tightly.

"Yes. Like this. Please...fuck me. Fuck me really good. Show me who owns me, baby," she gasped out as I started thrusting into her.

I wasn't as rough as I might have been. Not at first. i needed to stop and kiss her on her mouth and on her fine neck and hear her gasp in my ear. I pinned her delicate wrists with only one hand to leave the other one free to roam, stroking her face, and as things got more intense, grip her ass tightly.

As I began to really pound her she moaned. She was much louder than she normally was, it was like she let out a sleeping tigress that I'd only glimpsed before. She told me she loved me. She begged me to keep fucking her. She begged me to give her all of my cum. I was close.

I grasped her hair again, more roughly than I meant to, though she didn't mind. I positioned her so I was looking at her directly in the eyes as I was getting ready to cum. I was having a hard time holding out. I felt her cunt start to spasm. I saw her mouth open in ragged breaths.

"Oh..oh fuck baby. I love you baby. Always. Fucking cum in me. Mark me. Mark me now."

That was all I could take. I came inside her as she came around me. It was the most intense sex we had in a long time, and I had no complaints about our sex life.

It ended with her holding on to me for a good while. She wouldn't let me up. I didn't want to get up. We just made out like that for a while. There was something about what we brought out in each other, about the taboo nature of our relationship, about the way our love reflected off of each other. It built up and sometimes we acted like a couple of horny, lovestruck teenagers.

After a nice long time. She let me go.

"I've gotta shower and get going. I'm going to be late for the thing at the park."

She kept busy with a lot of volunteering projects. They were her passion, and I loved being able to support us so she could pursue them. Although she'd worked in the past and offered to continue, I knew that she found her corporate career to be kind of soul crushing. I was happy to be the breadwinner and I made enough for us to be comfortable.

"Ok. I love you, mom," I said as I pulled some workout clothes on and went to my office to get some work done.

"I love you too, sweetie."

Those were the last words we exchanged. I often wish I had said more but I remind myself to be grateful that she knew she was loved at the end. Not all of us get that.

------

When I got the call I didn't believe it. It didn't make any sense. I even looked at the clock. It had only been four hours since I had been making love to her in my...in our bed. How could she be dead?

At soon as they said where they found her, I knew it was true. It was the park. The very first place where we became more than mother and son. It was a last "I love you" from her. I didn't need a note. The fact that she didn't want me to find her at home, was just extra emphasis of the care that she took with me.

I barely paid any attention to the officer. I heard words like "note", "suicide" and "cancer". I was briefly interviewed. I read the note. I told them what I ended up telling everyone. I had no idea whatsoever that she had cancer.

"I understand her decision," I'd say, "and I can't be mad about it."

That was bullshit. As a son who respected that his mother went out on her terms without suffering or inflicting suffering on others, I couldn't be mad at her. As her lover, I was in a quiet rage. At her for not telling me. Talking to me about options. Giving me another year, month, or just one more day. At myself for being so stupid and missing that her trips to the doctor, which she never let me accompany her to, were about something far more serious than a "hormonal issue".

Becky, my sister who had recently divorced, was scheduled to move back home in a week. She moved her schedule up and came home early. The movers would bring her things in a few weeks. By the time she was able to get back, I had planned the funeral and even chosen a casket. It was cheap and wooden. Mom wanted to be cremated so it had to be. When Becky arrived I was in a daze. Mom had a lot of friends, and so many had showed up with casseroles that I wouldn't have had to cook for months. When I heard the knock at the door, I assumed it was another one.

"Oh my god you look...awful."

It was a very Becky thing to say. If anyone else had said it, I might have been offended. But she was, above all, truthful. And she followed it with a hug. I remember it because it was the hardest she'd ever hugged me. I'd grown up taking care of her and comforting her, and now she was doing the same for me, as soon as she showed up. I was surprised, but I welcomed the contact.