Let me first say thanks to my father, without whom none of this would have been possible. Dying was only his final gift to me. He was a total prick when I was growing up, and as far back as I can remember that helped bring Mom and me closer together. Whenever he was in a foul mood, which was most of the time, Mom was always there to put herself between us. His tantrums usually ended with him swearing at both of us and driving off to the tavern while Mom apologized and comforted me. She never apologized for him, only for herself. She seemed to believe that regardless of who did what it was always somehow her actions that invited the altercation. It never made much sense to me, but at some point I stopped questioning it and accepted her reasoning and her apologies at face value.
I learned quickly enough that her guilt extended to my actions as well. When I got caught stealing or fighting, I knew there would be repercussions. At school, at the police station, and especially under the sting of my father’s belt, I understood that there were consequences for my actions. But once all that unpleasantness was out of the way I also knew that Mom would be there with open arms, waiting to assure me that none of it was my fault, that she alone was to blame. She’d kiss and coddle me and do me little favors and promise to make it all up to me.
The way she doted on me only seemed to deepen Dad’s disgust and resentment, and by the time I was old enough to leave home an iciness had developed in his relationship with us that had left him a virtual boarder in his own home. When he died of a heart attack one night while working very late at the office, it didn’t surprise anyone that the person to call 9-1-1 was his 26-year-old secretary.
Mom hadn’t known about the affair, but as with all things she blamed herself for it. I had long since stopped trying to disabuse her of such notions. Her own feelings of guilt were the prism through which she viewed the world, and while it wasn’t ideal it was at least something sturdy to hold onto. I certainly had no alternative to offer her.
Dad hadn’t bothered to set aside anything for a family for which he felt such disdain. He had no life insurance or savings, but as his widow Mom was entitled to the small pension that would have been his. It wasn’t enough to live on in the old house, but Mom didn’t need all that space anyway. So a few weeks after the funeral I took a week off from my job and drove over to help her find an apartment.
After looking at several mold-infested hovels we found the old hospital apartments. The rooms were clean and well-lit and the neighbors were quiet. Mom and I spent the next couple of days packing up her belongings at the house. She was sad to part with any of the furniture, and I had to keep reminding her how small the new apartment was. It took longer than I thought it would and the entire ordeal was becoming annoying. At one point I grumbled at her for wanting to take the couch and the recliner.
“They won’t both fit,” I snapped. “You’ll have to decide which you want more.”
“The couch,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. She gave me a conciliatory look and stood a little closer to me.
“I’m sorry you had to take time off work,” she said with a weak smile. “I should have just taken care of this stuff my self.”
“You couldn’t have done this çekmeköy escort yourself,” I said, continuing to unload one of the bookshelves into a box.
“I know. I should have hired some movers to take care of this part, though,” she said, rubbing my back timidly with her left hand.
I laughed and shook my head. “Give me a break. Like you could afford that right now.”
She kept rubbing back lightly, with both hands now. “No, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t think sometimes. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with me right now.”
“Let’s just get done, ok? We only have the truck for tomorrow, and I want to get everything in one trip.”
“Sorry,” she said in a quiet voice, and went back to packing.
We spend the next day packing everything into a rental truck and unloading it at the new place. Mom is overweight and not very strong and could only help with the lighter things. The furniture I had to manage by myself, with only the hand truck that came with the rental. We finished early in the evening, though quite a few boxes remained to be unpacked. Mom insisted she could do those herself and I didn’t argue. While I relaxed on the sofa and watched a baseball game on TV she unpacked enough of the kitchen boxes to make us dinner. Nothing fancy, just spaghetti, but it hit the spot after all that lifting.
“I really should have gone to the store and bought something for a bigger dinner. You deserve more after all your work today,” she said as she cleared the table. I didn’t argue.
After dinner I finished watching the game and fell asleep on the couch. I woke a few hours later feeling groggy and on edge. I hadn’t meant to drift off. From down the hall I heard the sound of the shower running. It turned off as I stood up and checked my watch. It was after 9:00.
“Oh, you’re awake,” said Mom suddenly appearing in a knee-length robe. Water was still dripping down her large chubby legs, and she hadn’t bothered to close the robe fully enough to conceal the cleavage between her big, sagging boobs. Her hair was up in a towel, and without any makeup on she looked noticeably older than her 48 years.
“Yeah, why did you let me sleep for so long? We missed getting the rental truck back,” I said sharply. Her face fell and her eyes went down to her feet.
“I’m sorry. You just seemed so exhausted. Besides, you can sleep here tonight. You’re too tired to go anywhere now.”
“I don’t think so. This couch has already broken my back enough times today, I’m not going to give it the satisfaction,” I said, rubbing the ache in my lower back.
“That’s all right honey, you can take my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”
“Your back is worse than mine.”
“I know. God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Yeah,” I said, and her face flushed and she stared at the floor again. With that pouty, guilty expression, her cheeks still red from the shower, she looked like an overgrown child.
I started to look around for my jacket when she came out with: “It’s a big bed. Just sleep in there with me. There’s plenty of room.” She gave me a big hopeful smile, and though I wanted to argue I couldn’t. I was beat. After the nap, my muscles were aching so much the last thing I wanted was to drive across town to my hotel.
She made up the bed while I took a quick shower. I didn’t have any clothes to cevizli escort change into so she lent me her robe once she’d put her nightgown on. As I got into bed she thanked me again and apologized once more for all the trouble she had caused. She went on for a couple minutes like that until I couldn’t stand anymore.
“I know, I know, you’re sorry,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You want to make it up to me right now? Please shut up and let me sleep. I’m sore and I’m tired.” I rolled over and faced the wall.
“Oh, ok,” she said in a tiny, embarrassed whisper.
I felt bad for being so abrupt so I reached back and patted whatever part I came in contact with first. I think it was her stomach.
“It’s all right. It’s been a long day. Just get some sleep,” I said. It seemed to ease the embarrassment, if not the guilt, and I could feel her roll over and face the other wall.
“Good night,” she whispered.
My dreams that night were fleeting and wild. Mom and Dad were back in the old house, only they were happy — it was like an episode of the Donna Reed Show, if Donna Reed was fat. I was there, too, a toe-headed kid with freckles and a cowboy hat. Then suddenly the house opened up into an enormous outdoor arena, kind of like the Roman coliseum. I was alone in the stands, and Mom and Dad were sitting higher up in the emperor’s box. They descended smiling to the track together where some young men were waiting to fit Mom with a saddle. She smiled to the crowd and then to Dad as she got down on all fours and let them buckle it to her back, and she kept smiling as Dad dropped his long robe and climbed into the saddle. Slapping her hind quarters with his scepter he rode her in little circles on the track. It was like a bull ride, if both rider and bull were on sedatives. After a couple of minutes he put his hand over his eyes to shield the sun and looked up in my direction. With his scepter he beckoned me, and I quickly made my way down to the track. He had dismounted from his steed, and Mom, whose face had been all radiant smiles, suddenly looked afraid.
“Your turn,” said Dad, handing me the reins, but not the scepter. He stood back and watched intently as I threw my leg over her and sat down in the saddle. Mom’s head was drooping by this time, and I wasn’t sure what to do until Dad stepped behind and struck her smartly on the rump with the scepter. She lurched off at a steady pace, and the crowd watched silently as she gradually picked up speed. With a few flicks of the reins she was eventually galloping just as she had for Dad, and the cowboy hat flew off my head. Her breathing was becoming labored and she glanced back at me every now and then, her face flushed and her mouth wide open. I shut my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation she was giving me.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. I smiled and held the reins a little more tightly, and our pace picked up a bit more. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said. “Unggh, god, honey, I’m so sorry.”
The words echoed in my brain as our pace continued to quicken. We weren’t going in little circles anymore but were heading off at a fast run, leaving Dad and the stable boys far behind. As Mom continued to grunt and apologize underneath me, I smiled blissfully, enjoying a feeling of freedom and power I’d never experienced before. When I opened my eyes again the erenköy escort crowd and the stadium were gone. Mom was still on her hands and knees under me, but it was dark, and her pink night gown was hiked up around her shoulders. One of my hands had a tight grip on her fleshy left hip and the other had a fistful of her long hair. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realized my hips were slapping roughly into her large round ass and my cock was plunging in and out of her pussy, glistening in the tiny bit of light that leaked through the slit in the curtains.
“I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, uuhhnnngghhhh gaawwdd, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t stop, and I didn’t let go of her hair. I was tugging so hard on it her face was pulled almost straight up to the ceiling.
“Oowww, uhhhh, honey, please,” she whined, and I slackened my grip to let her head fall back.
“Fuck!” I shouted as I continued to pound her big puffy pussy. It was the first thing I could recall saying since the dream started. She must have taken it as a sign of anger because another round of apologies ensued. She wasn’t far from the mark.
I couldn’t imagine how this had started or why she had let it go so far. Maybe she had been dreaming too? However we had gotten here, we were here, and I was racing toward my climax with no intention of stopping.
“Fuck you, Ooooohhh god, fuck you,” I said. I lifted the hand that was gripping her hair and slapped it down hard on her left cheek.
She yelped at the contact and dropped from her hands down to her elbows, shoving her ass a little higher in the process.
“I’m sorry, honey, I know, I know, fuck meee, fuck meeeee,” she said in a high, almost sing-song voice.
“Shut up,” I said in a low growl. “It’ll be your fault if the neighbors hear us, so shut the fuck up.”
“My fault, uuhhnnnggh I know, my fault, my fault,” she panted, with her face mostly buried in the quilt.
I reached under her and took both of her big boobs in my hands, squeezing them harshly and pinching the nipples between my knuckles. “That’s right, you whore. UUhhhggh, Fuck! You think I wanted this, you fat whore? I go to sleep dead tired and I wake up fucking you? How’d you manage that?”
“I don’t know,” she cried. “OOhhh, gaawwd, I promise I don’t know. I was asleep, too, UUhhhnggh, and then you were on top of me. Uuuhhnngg, Uuuooohh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, honey. I’ll fix it. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I laughed and squeezed her big tits hard. “You can’t fix this,” I said feeling an orgasm about to hit. “OHH FUCK, UUHHGH GOD YOU LITTLE WHORE!! I’M CUMMING, OOOHHHHHHH GOD, I’M CUMMING INSIDE YOU, YOU WHORE!! FUCK, I’M CUMMING IN MY MOTHER’S FAT PUSSY, AND NOTHING CAN FIX THAT, YOU WHORE!!
As jets of my semen splashed over her pussy walls and my accusations flooded her ears Mom’s body was racked by her own orgasm, and all she could manage were squealing little apologies screamed into the quilt. When we were both spent I let my arms and legs give out and collapsed on top of her cushy form with my hands pinned underneath her, still gripping her enormous boobs.
When my breathing returned to normal I lay for a long time listening to her high-pitched little whimpers, still muffled by the quilt. I gave her boobs a rough squeeze and she finally stopped. We didn’t say anything more to each other that night, but fell asleep like that with me on top of her. When I woke in the morning we were still in the same position, only the cum between our legs had dried, and my cock was hard again.
To be continued…