Then it all came back to me in a dizzying rush. My mother and I had made love yesterday; had shared our bodies, our souls. More that that, we'd fucked.
I was alone in bed, but Mom had left a fresh-cut pink camellia on the pillow for me. Sitting up, I breathed deeply of its fragrance, then caressed my breasts with the soft petals.
Rising, I stretched luxuriously, then padded into the bathroom to shower.
Minutes later, I descended the stairs, letting the wonderful aroma of breakfast lure me to Mom. I'd been tempted to surprise her by coming down completely naked, but settled on my sexiest dressing gown, the one that barely concealed my panties -- at least it would have, if I'd been wearing any.
Mom was standing over the stove, as I made my entrance, turning pieces of bacon in a sizzling iron skillet. She wore her ivory-hued kimono -- a gift from a Japanese student -- that showed off her womanly figure to stunning effect.
Glancing over her shoulder, she paused to look me up and down appreciatively. "Hey, hon," she said, the warmth of her voice stirring some very un-daughterly feelings of mine. "How many eggs do you want?"
Moving close, I embraced Mom from behind, grinding my mound into her generous ass. "Hmmm," I mused, my hands opening the kimono, then slipping inside to cup her bare breasts. "Think I'd rather have these, actually." I teased Mom's nipples, feeling them stiffen to my touch.
Shaking her head, she moved away. "Really, Marcie," she chided, opening the oven door to check on a pan of biscuits, which were just beginning to turn a golden brown. "You've got a one-track mind." There was an amused light in her eyes when she said it, though. "Now you cut out this foolishness and sit down. Breakfast is almost ready." Taking up a pair of tongs, she deftly plucked bacon strips from the skillet, laying each one out on a folded paper towel.
"Okay, okay," I laughed, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. Taking my seat at the kitchen table, I arranged myself in a very provocative pose, legs parted to expose my pussy. "Oh, Mom-ma..." I sang.
"What, honey?" she replied, looking over her shoulder -- then her eyes widened as she drank in the sight of me. "Oh, my."
"Two eggs. Scrambled," I purred, letting both hands trail slowly down my thighs.
Mom licked her lips as she stared at my cunt, which I was certain had to be glistening with wetness. Her gaze shifted up to my face, eyes narrowing into a mock-glare. "It pains me to say this, honestly it does... but my daughter has become a tease. And something of a slut, I suspect."
I purred, "Oh, I'm your slut, Mom," hugging myself. It was weird but exhilarating, playing the Bad Girl for my mother.
She folded her arms, giving me that are-we-finished? look that I suspected a few of her students knew all too well. "Honey. Behave."
"Sorry, Mom," I grinned sheepishly, straightening in my chair.
Satisfied, she turned back to the stove, taking two eggs and cracking them in a glass bowl.
Moments later, we were eating breakfast and deep in a discussion of W.S. Merwin's poetry. I'd buried myself in his work for weeks while composing my final paper for American Lit class. Just another meal in our happy home, filled with Mom's great cooking and good conversation.
Except that as we ate, I couldn't stop thinking of Mom's nearly naked body beneath that silken gown. The front was open enough to give me tantalizing glimpses of her breasts, and I longed to bury my face in them, breathing deeply of her skin. As for Mom, she did her share of looking, too, glancing again and again at the outline of my nipples, which were all too apparent through the skimpy nightie I wore.
Finally we yielded up our knives and forks, took that last sip of coffee, wiped our mouths with the linen napkins that Mom had always used instead of paper ones. Without a word, we rose to tidy up, clearing away the remains of our breakfast.
Mom gently placed the last plate in the sink, then turned to me. I could read the desire she felt, written in her warm brown eyes.
Without breaking her gaze, I reached out to grasp the tasseled cord that wound about my mother's kimono, tugging it gently to undo the careless knot that held the gown shut. It slowly parted, revealing Mom's body. Underneath, she wore sexy red panties -- nothing else.
"Oh, Marcie," she breathed, her cheeks flushed with an excitement that mirrored my own.
Moving closer, I slid both hands beneath the silken material and around Mom's bare waist, crushing my body against hers. She had just enough time to gasp before I kissed her.
My head swam with lust as I felt her open to me, replying to my hunger with her probing tongue. We kissed for a long while, reluctant to part even for the length of time it would take to climb the stairs to my bedroom -- the closest one.
No matter -- I had other, more daring plans for my mother. We had shared sweet lovemaking; now I was in the mood to be downright lewd. Let's see just how wild we can get, Momma...
Abruptly breaking away, I hooked my thumbs beneath her kimono and pushed it from her shoulders. The smooth silk cascaded to the floor, and my nearly nude mother gasped again, making a half-movement to cover her breasts.
"Honey!" she exclaimed. "What -- what if someone d-drops by?" She glanced nervously at the large kitchen window, which looked out onto our back yard.
"We won't answer," I replied, reaching for the hem of my nightie and yanking it up and off with a single gesture, leaving me completely naked.
I reached out to seize Mom's hand and led her over to the kitchen table, now emptied. Firmly placing her hand upon its gleaming surface, my lips graze her ear as I whisper, "Bend over, Mom."
She was trembling -- partly from arousal, partly from nerves -- but she meekly obeyed, lowering her upper half until her breasts were touching the table top.
I moved back, studying my mother's backside with a fierce hunger that simmered beneath my belly. She was magnificent; soft and shapely, built for a lover's comfort. Licking my lips, I gazed at the pouting cleft of Mom's cunt, outlined beneath gauzy panties, remembering the adoration I'd showered last night on that wonderful part of her body.
Yeah, I'd had her pussy -- now, I wanted her ass.
Drawing closer, I grabbed a chair with one hand, slid it beneath me and sat; my face mere inches from Mom's buttocks. I grasped the waistband of her panties and drew them down slowly enough to make a show of it, licking my lips as her nudity was revealed to me one luscious inch at a time. Finally, my mother's knickers ringed her ankles, and she stepped from them without a murmur.
I took a long, deep breath, then rested my hands on the soft globes, cupping them for a moment before I spread them apart, exposing the cleft of my mother's anus. It was lovely -- a sweet pink pucker that cried out to be kissed, like a little mouth. So that's just what I did, burrowing between those soft cheeks to place an open-mouthed kiss upon Mom's rosebud.
She gasped, a thrilled shudder rippling through her frame. "Oh, baby -- oh God!"
I was licking my mother's asshole, bathing her crack with long, luscious strokes. She was writhing atop the table, panting, "Marcie, th-that feels so -- oh so good! I've n-never... never... ohhhhhh!"
It felt more wonderful than I can say, making love to Mom like this. To me, analingus is the most intimate of sexual acts -- a pleasure I only shared with very special lovers. Who better to receive this precious gift than the woman who had given birth to me, fed me from her breasts, soothed my tears, taught me to read, raised me to adulthood?
As I rimmed her, my right hand slid up the inside of Mom's legs and between them, cupping her warm, wet vulva for a few heartbeats before I brought my fingers into play. There was rich nectar dripping from her flower, and I felt it slowly coating my digits while I deftly masturbated her. My lips were wedged deeply into the crease of Mom's buttocks, the tip of the tongue pressing insistently at the anal pucker.
"Marcie," she moaned, quivering to my touch. "Marcie, I love you..."
Sensing my mother's need for release, I allowed my fingers to seek out the fleshy button of her clit. She inhaled sharply as I lightly brushed her there one, two, three times; then took the inflamed nubbin between my thumb and index finger, gently pinching it.
A strangled cry exploded from Mom's throat as a climax kicked in hard and fast, near-violent jolts of ecstasy coursing through her frame.
"Mmmmmohhhnnyeah... oh -- oh JESUS!" she screamed, raising herself from the table with both hands, head thrown back.
Unwilling to stop, I continued to masturbate my mother while French kissing her asshole, carrying her through at least two more orgasms. Finally she blurted "Marcie, oh God -- n-n-no more, please!"
I withdrew my fingers, now bathed in Mom's essence, saying goodbye to her anus with a flick of the tongue before rising to my feet. My mother lay on the table, knees bent, her toes resting on the floor. Her elegant back heaved with each deep breath.
Helping a dazed Mom to her feet, I led her over to the couch, where she collapsed into its welcoming embrace. Her hair was awry, face flushed, body glistening with sweat -- yet her well-fucked appearance made me want my mother all the more, as if the tongue action I'd just given her had been no more than an appetizer.
Pausing to lick at my sticky fingertips, I studied the thick bush between Mom's legs, now somewhat matted from her vaginal fluids. All my other female lovers kept their pubes shaved or trimmed, but there was something beautiful about my mother's auburn thatch that made me wonder if I'd been missing out. Maybe I'll let mine grow in, I mused, casually teasing my slit with a fingertip.
My eyes shifted to Mom's face, and a surge of raw lust raced through me when I saw the animal hunger in her eyes. I'd yet to come that morning, and there was a fire deep in my womanly center that needed to be quenched.
She sat up straight, reaching out to grasp my hand. "Now it's your turn, baby," she announced, a rough edge to her voice, "and I'm going to fuck you like you've never had it before."
I was speechless with excitement. I'd never heard Mom swear, not even when she lost her temper, and her deliberate use of the word fuck only tossed fuel on the inferno inside me.