Momma and Me

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Brunette

Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. To my knowledge no people ever existed who did these things. While many of my stories have a kernel of fact that I build from, this one does not. It came straight out of my twisted mind, sparked by a comment on another story about liking that my characters were not all young and beautiful. In this story, all characters are over eighteen by the time they have sex. When you read this please comment on any problems you spot and also vote. This is the only reward the authors get for our work. Of course, if you happen to like it, a little pat on the back comment will be accepted.

THIS REVISION OF MOMMA AND ME IS A RESULT OF YOUR VARIOUS COMMENTS. THANKS, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

*

I was rummaging through my old storage shed trying to decide what to keep and what to take to the dump. I had finally corralled my fifteen year old son long enough to have him help. With his full schedule of sports and school, that was no small feat.

“What the heck is this, Dad?”

I went to the back corner where he’d uncovered a relic from the past; an old seventeen inch RCA TV.

“Here, I’ll load it up and run it to the dump with the rest of the stuff,” he said.

“Naw, I don’t think we’ll get rid of it. It was the first TV my family ever owned. I spent many hours watching ED Sullivan, The Hit Parade, and The Life of Riley on that thing.”

“Huh? What were they?”

I had to explain that life didn’t start with MTV and Josie and the Pussycats, or any of the other shows that he and his sister thought they couldn’t live without watching in living color. I had brought it over from the old place after Momma died and my brother, who’d inherited the house, wanted to remodel.

I’d covered it in plastic and before long enough junk was piled around it, I forgot it was there. I hadn’t seen it or even thought about it in years, but now memories flooded back and I was a young boy again.

The year was nineteen fifty four and I waited anxiously for the TV man to deliver the set and install the antenna. In those days the reception in our rural area was spotty at best and the Yagi Array antenna had to be as high as possible; in our case it sat upon a fifty feet extending antenna that was mounted atop the house.

I could hardly wait for them to finish, but when they finished we had the best picture in the area. It was so much better the neighbors gathered at our house to watch Saturday Night Wrestling. Daddy was a grumpy, hard to get along with man, who soon got tired of them keeping him up until midnight every Saturday and despite Momma’s best efforts managed to upset all our friends. After that they never visited again, leaving us pretty isolated on our backwoods farm.

Not having anyone around didn’t bother Daddy at all. Me and my older brother had each other, but Momma had only Daddy and he was such a tyrant none of us wanted to be around him.

Television and school became my only tie to the civilized world while Momma had only television. Daddy didn’t want her to leave the house except to work the fields or when he took her to town shopping for supplies. Momma really enjoyed watching TV in what we called the den, but was really just a little closed in porch room on the opposite end of the house away from the bedrooms. That was her only source of enjoyment in life except for me and my older brother, Tommy.

The three of us were really close. When Daddy was hunting or fishing, Momma would usually bake something we liked. My favorite was Caramel Cake but Tommy always wanted her to make a concoction called Chewies. Tommy got his wish more often since the cake took longer and Momma wanted to get out of the kitchen and spend time with us.

We’d do all kinds of things. Things like seeing who could score twenty one first, while shooting basketball goals, or playing board games while sitting in the shade of our big Chinaberry tree. Sometimes, if it was extremely hot, the three of us would walk the half mile to the creek which ran through our property. It made a great swimming hole and some of my best memories involved our time there.

I remember once, when Daddy would be gone all day, Momma called us from our horseshoe game.

“Boys,” She said, “It’s just too hot to do anything. Why don’t we pack a picnic basket and go down to the creek?”

“Yeaa!” We rushed to help her get ready. While I got a couple fishing canes ready, Tommy helped Momma get the basket packed. We traveled very light, a couple towels and the food, along with the fishing gear was enough to lug a half mile. We’d all swim in our shorts, and then just let them dry on our bodies. I liked that, for sometimes Momma would wear something that would be almost transparent when wet.

When she and Tommy came out of the house, I could see this was one of those days. I could also see Tommy had a tent pole pushing at the front of his shorts. He kept it until we were almost to the creek.

The first thing we did was jump bahçelievler escort in the water to cool off. We laughed and horsed around like wild Indians and Momma joined right in. She grabbed me, trying to duck me under, but I managed to slip away.

“I’m going fishing.” I didn’t like anybody sticking my head underwater, so I got a cane and moved a ways upstream where their fooling around wouldn’t scare the fish. I could still see Momma and Tommy as they wrestled around in the water. They both seemed to really enjoy it. I could see why Tommy did, his hands were all over Momma, not blatant of course, but I was sure he got some really good feels.

Finally Momma had enough. “Come on, Robert,” she called, “time to eat.”

I could hardly eat. Momma’s shirt clung to her body and did nothing to hide her bra and her shorts were almost as revealing. Poor Tommy had a tent pole protruding under his shorts, and from the way he looked at Momma, I was sure he’d rather still be playing instead of eating.

After we got back home that evening, we all had chores to finish. When Momma carried a bucket in the barn to gather the eggs of the few eccentric chickens that refused to lay in the henhouse, I noticed Tommy slip in after her. Curiosity wouldn’t allow me not to follow them. After seeing them at the creek, I wondered what was going on. I got there just in time to hear Momma’s hand slap him.

“Don’t you dare say anything against your Daddy! Yes, I love you boys, but I love him too.”

“But he treats you awful, Momma. Why don’t we just all leave one day, when he’s gone like this, and never come back?”

“And live off what?” Momma asked.

“I could get a job. I could make as much money in one of the North Carolina textile mills as we do here on the farm.”

“Boy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” I saw Momma turn to walk away, and then she turned back toward him. “Just because you managed to feel me up today while we were playing, don’t assume you can give me what your daddy does, even if I would let you, which I wouldn’t. You’re my son, for God’s sake.”

I slipped away quickly, before they could see me. I really felt sorry for Tommy; Momma had hurt his pride pretty badly, even if he was asking for it. Tommy was never the same after that. Oh, he acted the same when it was just the three of us; it was like the barn incident never happened, and we still went swimming, just there was no horseplay with Momma. It was with Daddy that he changed. They were forever at each other’s throat; a few times I thought they would actually fight, but they never did.

I never did learn exactly what happened. I came home from school one day and Momma had a bruise on her face, Daddy had two black eyes and a couple teeth missing and Tommy was gone. Momma told me later, he’d joined the Navy

The next two years seemed to fly for me. I had to take up Tommy’s part of the farm work and still make good enough grades to get into college. I intended I was going to make something of my life, and Momma worked like a dog to give me enough time to study. We were actually so busy, the TV was hardly ever turned on.

Finally! I turned eighteen and graduated the same week. Now with the stress of studying gone we had more time. Momma and I could return to our old routine of watching TV. The only thing different was; Tommy was missing. Momma proudly displayed pictures he sent us of the exotic port-of-calls he visited, and she bragged to all the ladies at church about how he’s made Petty Officer 3rd class so quickly.

One more thing gave me a sudden dose of reality; it took money to go to college and Daddy claimed he didn’t have enough to send me. We all knew he was lying but there was no changing his mind. With this turn of events, Tommy became my shining knight. He had been sending Momma some money every month to keep for him. He now wrote that if I would stay on the farm and try to make things easier for Momma until his enlistment ended, he would increase the money he sent each month until we had enough to pay for my schooling. He had a deal!

Once again Momma and I would watch TV together after Daddy, who went to bed with the chickens, fell asleep. Momma had to get in the bed with him, but he was such a hard sleeper she could get back up and he’d never know the difference. She’d sit beside me on the sofa, dressed in her old nightgown, Daddy wouldn’t waste money on such junk as a housecoat, so while she sat there giggling about “I Love Lucy, I’d keep an eye on her hoping to catch a glimpse of bare leg or boob. Sometimes I got lucky. Personally, I hoped she would never get a housecoat.

Month after month we kept to this routine. Then I noticed Momma seemed a little frisker on some night while on other nights she seemed all keyed up. One night I had went to the bathroom when she was walking to the den, mumbling a little loud since she had no idea I wasn’t in the den. I could tell she wasn’t a happy camper bahçeşehir escort when it came to Daddy, so I decided to snoop around to see what I could find out.

It only took a short time for me to discover something about my parents I’d never even considered; they were sexual beings. To me, at that time, sex ended at the ancient age of thirty—until I listened at Momma and Daddy’s bedroom door. They had the old type coil springs on their bed and soon after Momma closed the door those things did some awful squeaking. With my ears glued to the door I could hear just about everything as well as if standing inside the room.

I, of course didn’t know enough to properly interpret what I was hearing back then, but now I know a lot about what I was hearing. First, Daddy wasn’t big on foreplay; almost as soon as Momma got to the bed I heard conversations along these lines:

“Dammit woman, get your ass out of that thing and get down here and make me hard.”

“Honey, why don’t you relax and let’s just love on each other a bit; you know—kiss and caress each other. Let me rub the inside of your thighs, I’ll bet it’ll feel as good to you as it does to me, and you know how horny that makes me.”

“Shit, you’re just too squeamish. You think you’re too good to suck my cock. Now get your skinny ass down there and make me hard.”

Like I say, those weren’t their exact words, but you get the idea. Sometimes I guess Momma got him hard, for I could hear the springs start their song, Momma start to moan and groan about how good it felt, while Daddy would say things like , “take that, bitch; work that ass!”

Sometimes it ended with them climaxing at the same time, judging from the satisfied sounds emanating from behind the bedroom door. Those were the nights Momma would join me to watch TV in a good mood. In other words, like a satisfied woman.

All too often I heard Momma yell, “Nooo—don’t go yet. I’m almost there. Nooo—aw shit!” In a few minutes after that I could hear Daddy snoring, and then I had to hurry back to the den, because Momma would be coming out to watch TV with me. These were the days she was all keyed up and even a dumb ass country hick like me knew she was sexually frustrated.

To properly understand what I’m saying you have to keep in mind I was a senior in High School and had never even asked a girl for a date. I was allowed to drive the family car to school and stay for ball practice, and only that because it enabled be to get back home and work in the fields sooner. Dates were out of the question, I didn’t have a sister or cousin to sneak a peek at, so all I knew about sex I learned from sneaking behind the school’s outer buildings with the other boys to look at dirty magazines, what they said about their exploits, and what I learned from the farm animals. Oh yes, one other thing—from taking a shower after football practice I saw that I was just a little better endowed than most of my teammates. Not by much, you understand, but as I know now a little can make the difference between a Jack and a King.

Anyway, the nights Momma came out frustrated got more and more often while Daddy got harder and harder to live with.

“If your Daddy don’t learn to accept his limitations, he either going to have a heart attack or a stroke,” she announced one night after I heard Daddy really chewing her out for not being able to get him hard. That night I almost got caught when Momma stormed out the bedroom without waiting for Daddy to go to sleep. I had to scurry to make it to the den and look relaxed before she got there.

“Gosh, Momma,” I said when she sat beside me. “You’re all keyed up. Why don’t you put your feet in my lap and let me rub them while we watch TV?” To my surprise she arranged herself on the sofa so that her head was on the far arm and her feet were in my lap. Her gown was pulled well up on her thighs, giving me the best view of a woman’s lower body I’d ever had.

“Oh Robert, that feels so good. I think I’ll get you to do it every night.” She was joking then, but as it worked out that is just about how things turned out. I was nervous and excited as I massaged her feet and lower legs, but I must have done a good job. Momma fell asleep while I was doing it and turned on her side. In doing so her gown slipped higher showing me more skin. I wished I had nerve enough to rub all the skin I saw, but I was chicken.

Almost every night after that, I’d get to rub her at least sometime before she left to go to sleep. After a month or so of me rubbing her feet she didn’t stretch out on the sofa; instead she sat close to me.

“Rub my back, Honey,” she requested. We had been hoeing cotton all day and our bodies were protesting to such hard usage. She turned her back toward me and I started massaging it through her gown. “Oh shit,” she said, “it just doesn’t feel right through my gown.” She undid some buttons and slipped her gown off her shoulders and gathered it around her waist, bakırköy anal yapan escort but she kept her back turned so I couldn’t see a damn thing except back.

“You don’t mind, do you Honey? I know a momma shouldn’t let her boy see her half naked, but I’m really tired and your hands feel so good on my naked skin.”

“Heck no I don’t mind.” My big hands would cover most of her back at one time so when I started working on her I could practically see her come unglued.

Maybe I should tell you something about Momma. If this was a fuck story I’d tell you about what a beauty she was, but I’m going to stick with the truth. She was just a forty-year-old farm wife who had worked in both the house and the fields all her life. That kind of life does not make a woman a beauty queen; her skin gets wrinkles and tough, she usually doesn’t have time to spend time on makeup or fixing hair or any of the other hundred and one things the average city woman does to remain beautiful.

That lifestyle does have one plus, it keeps a woman in good shape. Momma had big boobs, shapely legs, not a thin waist but not fat either and, from the back view, she had the shapeliest ass I’ve seen to this day. When I worked my hands down her back from shoulder to waist, then up each side, letting my fingertips brush the edge of her breast and back down again, I was working in prime real estate.

I expected Momma to make me quit, but instead she just sighed and relaxed against me. Now my hands didn’t have free range of her back, but I could still work her shoulder muscles, I just didn’t have an excuse to touch her boobs.

We continued watching TV while I rubbed her back until bedtime, then Momma pulled her gown up, fastened it and turned around to kiss me good night and I didn’t see a darn thing.

I did get a little bolder; we stood to kiss goodnight and I caught around Momma’s waist and pulled her tightly against my body. I had a hard-on and it poked right against her thinly clad body. I could feel her pubic hair rubbing my glans, or at least I imagined I could.

Momma looked at me funny, then said, “You know better than to do that.” Her voice carried very little conviction, so I didn’t stop pushing against her or kissing her. I had been kissing her neck and cheeks, but then I saw her breathing quicken. She said, “Stop, we can’t do this.” Her voice had a high nervous pitch, so I got even bolder and kissed her mouth.

After a moment she returned my kiss, opening her lips and slipping her tongue between mine. My tongue met hers and we explored each other’s mouth until Momma finally broke away. She could hardly get enough breath to whisper, “That’s enough. I’ve got to go to your Daddy. He’ll be wondering what I’m doing.”

It was a weak excuse; I knew Daddy was sound asleep and a stick of dynamite could explode in the room without waking him up. I went along with her excuse anyway, since I didn’t have much choice. Besides, I had made major strides toward my goal of making love to Momma.

Yep, you heard me correctly; I wanted to screw my momma. I know it would be incest, and yes, I understood we could both get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see how it felt to slip my hard shaft into my wonderful momma’s love canal, and I was willing to try anything to find out.

For the next three weeks our life went just about like that; we’d wake up, have breakfast, work the fields all day and then after supper Daddy would insist Momma come to bed with him. They’d close the door and I waited a few minutes before pressing my ear against it. I would sometimes hear the springs start squeaking, but often they didn’t. Still I’d hear Daddy make the noise I had come to associate with his cumming. Then then things would get quiet and I’d hear Momma get up and start toward the door. That was my cue to rush back to the den.

On those nights, Momma would almost always be in an awful mood when she joined me on the sofa. I’d give her a good rubdown while we watched TV and by the time we retired for the night she was her jolly old self again, and I’d have had a chance to cop a feel or two. Once I even managed to tweak her nipple with my thumb and forefinger while she pretended she was napping and didn’t try to stop me.

Then, one magical day in May my world changed. The night before Momma was even more frustrated than usual when she left the bedroom. She snuggled closer to me than usual and once her hand accidently brushed my cock. I went to bed that night a happy man, and was still on top of the world when I awoke.

When I finished the morning chores and came back into the house for breakfast, Daddy had already left to plow the cotton we’d finished hoeing yesterday. Momma was in an exceptionally good mood. She acted like a school girl when she placed my plate of grits with eggs and three strips of bacon in my place at the table.

When she turned back to the stove to fix her plate I stepped up behind her, slipped my arms around her and cupped her breast, or all of her breast that would fit, in my hands and tweaked her nipples, just like I’d read about in a dirty book.

It had worked out well for the guy in the story, and since Momma had kissed me back last night, I figured I just as well push the envelope and find her limits.

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