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A Mother's Day Surprise
by MapleValley8 (address withheld)

***

Sons that surprise their mothers on her special day are 
always a joy. This Mother's Day was full of surprises. 
First, her son surprised her by unexpectedly coming 
home from college for a Mother's Day date. Secondly, 
she surprised herself by only offering token resistance 
to his advances. Third, my how he's grown. Finally, it 
really was the best Mother's Day ever. (Fm, reluc, inc, 
1st, rom)

***

Author Note: In searching for ways to make the reading 
experience more enjoyable and because italics are not 
available, I have employed my own icon (<~>) to 
indicate when a character is processing a thought or a 
series of thoughts. The reason I have done this is to 
avoid the often cumbersome: "So I started thinking...; 
She thought to herself...; I couldn't help but 
think...; etc, etc, etc."

This icon (<~>) appears at the beginning and end of the 
character's thoughts. The thoughts of the characters 
then, like our own thoughts, run one upon another and 
are often totally and completely unrelated. Also, some 
punctuation rules are suspended during the thought 
processes. I have decided to employ this technique in 
all my stories. Something similar worked for Pavlov. 
However, if you find it too confusing, please use the 
backspace on your computer taskbar. Thank you. <~> 
surely the readers can figure this out...nobody can be 
that damn stupid <~> 

Prologue:

With May comes Mother's Day, but you already know that. 
But what you may not know is that last year (2004) 
consumers spent an average of $98.64 on Mother's Day, 
and an average of $86.19 on Father's Day. That means 
Mother's Day cost American consumers $10.43 billion, 
and Father's Day $8.04 billion. Yes, that's billion 
with a 'B'.

Author's Note: In case you're wondering if dads are 
getting short-changed, in the previous year (2003), 
consumers spent an average of $99.65 on dads, compared 
to $97.37 on moms. Surely there's someone that can 
write an imaginative Father's Day article that will 
inspire daughters, regardless of age, to give daddies 
something special this year other than the predictable 
cards, clothing, gift cards and books. Anyway, back to 
the prologue.

Where do the billions of dollars get spent on these two 
holidays? Flowers, cards, and food were the most 
popular Mother's Day gifts last year. Six in 10 
consumers purchased Mother's Day cards, a third of 
consumers bought flowers and a third took Mom to a 
restaurant. 

According to the Greeting Card Association, Mother's 
Day is the third most-popular holiday for sending 
greeting cards – behind Christmas and Valentine's Day. 
And according to the Society of American Florists, 
Mother's Day ranks second only to Christmas in the 
purchase of flowers.[Source: National Retail 
Federation]

This convincing data supports what we girls have always 
known to be true about The Golden Rule. No, not the one 
you're thinking of, but the real one – and the real 
Golden Rule is this: "She who has the gold makes the 
rules." 



A MOTHER'S DAY SURPRISE 

I was not looking forward to Mother's Day this year. My 
only son Tim, the joy of my life, was away at college 
pursuing studies that will enable him to have a 
practice as a Chiropractor. It's May and he is just 
about to complete his first year. 

Ed is away also, but that's not unusual. Being a pilot, 
he's been away more than he's been home. Ed has been 
pretty useless as a stepfather so it's not surprising 
that we've grown apart over the years. The truth is the 
only thing I miss about him is the occasional dinner 
and dancing – Saturday night before Mother's Day being 
one of them. 

On the brighter side, I don't have to do that wife 
thing with him anymore. Flight attendants have been 
taking care of that for me. However, I do miss being 
held by and all that goes with being with a man. Lately 
it seems my needs have intensified. 

It appears that this Mother's Day is not going to be 
very pleasant – no dinner, no dancing and again no 
Saturday night love making. And the early Sunday 
Mother's Day brunch is off too. 

Mother's Day at church will not be a pleasant 
experience this year either. Families will be sitting 
together; I will be alone. Mothers will sit with their 
arms around their children; my hands will be folded in 
my lap. Mothers with all their children present will 
stand and be recognized; my sweetheart is 4 hours away. 
Mother's Day corsages will be presented and worn as 
badges of honor. My breasts will stand out, but there 
won't be a corsage to adorn them. Pastor Long will 
share his Mother's Day message extolling the virtues of 
motherhood, and I will sit feeling incomplete, like a 
child's wooden puzzle with the main piece missing. 

So here I sit on a gloomy Saturday morning, alone in 
the house with just my thoughts. What a shitty weekend 
this is going to be. I would call my neighbor Molly, 
but I'm just too down in the dumps even for that. So 
even though it's only 11:00 AM, I think I'll get 
started with a glass of wine. Screw Mother's Day!

I was really getting to feel sorry for myself when the 
telephone rang... 

"Mom? Guess who?"

"Hello, sweetheart. I'd know your voice anywhere. You 
just don't know what hearing from you does to me. I am 
sooo glad you called. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I wasn't going call... was 
just going to walk through the door and surprise you, 
but I got to thinkin', 'If mom is going to go out with 
me for dinner and dancing, she will want to know in 
plenty of time so she can get ready, '...so that's why 
I'm calling."

"Are you coming home?"

"Absolutely. You don't think I'm going to let my 
gorgeous mom be alone this weekend do you?"

"Honey, it's such a long way...you don't have to come 
home."

"Mom, cut the crap. You know I do. We're gonna have a 
good time."

I could imagine him grinning when he said that. I began 
smiling too.

Tim continued, "Call Jeremiah's and make reservations. 
It's late so if they say they're full, ask for Angie, 
tell her the reservations are for me." 

"She's such a pretty girl, Tim"

"Don't go there, mom... I'm not interested in Angie... 
you're my girl this weekend. Just make the reservations 
– preferably around eight."

"OK, OK..."

"I've got several things to do here before I can get 
away, but I should be home around six. I'll shower and 
we'll head out. Howz that sound?"

"Honey, this is exactly what I need. I'll be primed and 
ready." 

Tim sounded more serious. "Mom, don't fret about Ed... 
'bout him not being here this weekend. I've been 
talking to Uncle Rick... he's helped me to see things 
differently. I'm going to make you forget all about him 
this weekend. I love you Mom... bye."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Hanging up the phone I was very excited that Tim was 
coming home yet curious about some of the things he 
said. When had he talked to my brother, Rick? And about 
what? And what did he mean by making me forget about 
Ed? 

I opened the phone book to get the number of Jeremiah's 
but at the same time my thoughts were running wild.

<~> I'm not so sure it's a good idea for Tim to be 
asking advice from my brother, Rick... I love Rick, 
maybe too much, but he can't keep his pants zipped 
up...but I guess it's not all his fault... with a 
mother and three sisters indulging his every desire, 
how else was he to turn out... it's just that he's so 
damn good looking. <~> 

<~> Patsy thinks he's better looking now that he's 
older...but a twin is always partial...as far as I know 
I'm the only one that knows about her and Rick's 
secret...well, Patricia might know, but if she does 
she's sure kept it to herself <~> 

<~> Tim looks so much like Rick when he was twenty... 
either of them will make your knees weak and your lips 
wet... god Pam, you and your thoughts... it's a good 
thing nobody can read your mind... make your call... 
you need to get up and get at it – you've got a lot to 
do to get ready... but I'm still going to rub one 
off...it's for sure I don't want to go out with Tim 
this horny...god, I can't believe I'm thinking this. 
<~>

***

With the reservations confirmed I called Wanda at her 
salon and asked if she could work me in. Jokingly I 
told her that a hot date unexpectedly came up. She 
could do the hair if I could come right then; so I 
went.

Wanda started with the questions. "Date, huh? Who's the 
lucky person?"

In an attempt to contain my excitement I muttered, "Oh, 
it's just Tim. Ed is away this weekend so Tim is coming 
in for Mother's Day to take me out for a little dinner 
and dancing. It'll be a nice break for us... some mom 
and son bonding."

Wanda's reply surprised me. "Well, I know who the lucky 
person is now... it's you. Pam, don't get mad at me but 
we've all admired how he has developed – haven't we 
girls?" They all giggled.

"Have you looked at him recently? And I don't mean as 
your baby boy. He's a big energetic boy! And we all 
know about those don't we?"

"Wanda!"

"Well, it's the truth. I know you're his mother, but 
you're still a woman...and a woman young as you still 
has those powerful urges, I know. Honey, he's just 
gorgeous... if I get around him I'm gonna be on my 
back."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The women in the 
salon laughed again. 

I didn't like the gist of the conversation, but women 
know when other women are serious and I knew Wanda was 
telling the truth – so I just sat and listened as Wanda 
and several other mothers went on and on about my Tim. 
I didn't want every mother in the neighborhood helping 
herself to my son. If they ever get started, they won't 
to quit. <~> I always thought you were a bitch in heat. 
<~>

But I had noticed. Even I hadn't been able to escape 
the fact that the little boy that once rode his red 
bike around in the yard now undoubtedly preferred to 
ride something else. I'm not that naive; I know what a 
20-year-old male wants to ride. 

My own gender always amazes me. We give our little boys 
cookies, cake and candy, and do everything imaginable 
to make them happy. Then, when they grow into big 
strong teenagers and young men, and their primary 
interest is no longer cookies, do we change, hell no, 
we're still eager and more than willing to give them 
what will make them happy. And what is it that makes 
them happy? What do they want? Pussy! So we give them 
some pussy! I know that's true because I'm sitting in 
the salon with six other mothers that are more than 
willing to spread their legs for my Tim. And while I'm 
not proud to admit it, even I had been looking for an 
occasion to get at Molly's son, Tyler. Molly would just 
die if she knew it. 

Of course I had noticed Tim. There had been many nights 
when Tim and I lounged around watching TV, he in his 
boxers and me in one of his old football jerseys. Sure, 
I've seen my share of tentings - what mother hasn't. 
And lately they've become impressive. I wouldn't mind 
getting another look since the last look I had was on 
his sixteenth birthday. That sure was a day filled with 
bitter-sweet memories. But I wasn't foolish enough to 
share this at my salon. 

And yes, I've noticed how differently Tim looks at me. 
It's not the look of a little boy any longer, but he's 
not a little boy now. Now his looks are more measuring, 
and dare I say it, more lustful. Women know when a man 
looks at her like she's dinner. Tim lost interest in 
riding a bike a long, long time ago. I know I shouldn't 
have but there have been many occasions I've just not 
bothered to tie my robe or pull down the football 
jersey. We've just never been a modest family. I knew 
he was looking but I didn't do anything to cover up.

There are, at least to my way of thinking, two 
occasions that changed everything for Tim and I and put 
our relationship on a much different level. It's for 
sure it altered the customary mother-son relationship, 
if indeed we ever had that. 

The first incident occurred on Tim's sixteenth 
birthday. Ed and I took him out for dinner to 
celebrate. Following dinner, we went to airport; Ed's 
crew was taking a flight to Hong Kong. Tim and I then 
returned home; he and his friends had party plans for 
the evening. I was uneasy but I didn't want to keep him 
from having a good birthday so I consented, trusting he 
would be careful. It wasn't much later in the evening 
when I was contacted by police and informed that Tim 
had been severely beaten and was at the hospital. 

He was still in the emergency room when I arrived and 
seeing him stripped, bloody and surrounded by a doctor 
and two nurses was more than I was prepared for. A 
four-inch cut in the pelvic region had already been 
sutured and was covered with a small towel for modesty. 
The attending physician was presently closing the cut 
to his chest; it too required stitches. Though longer 
than the groin cut, it was not as deep. Information 
regarding his injuries came in bits and pieces – and 
frustratingly slow. 

Tim was an only child and the center of my life. I had 
denied him nothing and the inability to help him during 
this critical time brought me to the edge of losing it. 
Though the doctor assured me he would be fine, it 
wasn't registering. I wanted to get him home where I 
could bathe him and provide whatever he needed. 

His face was already badly swollen. One eye had 
extensive swelling and probably would be closed by 
morning. His lower lip was also swollen and still 
bleeding. He had several bruised ribs and there were 
abrasions on both knees. The knife wounds though were 
upsetting for me, especially the one in the groin area. 
It started at the edge of his pubic hair and extended 
toward his left leg, narrowly missing an artery. 

*** 

Entering the house I led Tim directly to my bedroom. 
Maybe I was being over-protective, but there was no 
denying the maternal instinct to nurse and care for 
him. I was still on edge but was beginning to calm down 
some. I realized I needed to shift from the worried 
mother role to that of nurse and care giver. 

With the hospital gown removed, I then untied his pants 
and let them fall to the floor. The hospital had been 
kind enough to provide surgical scrubs for the trip 
home. Pulling the covers down, I helped Tim onto the 
bed then went into the bathroom, stripped down and put 
on an over-size t-shirt. By the time I returned with 
the water and soft face towels, Tim was fast asleep – 
the combination of stress, physical exhaustion, 
lateness of the hour and a strong sedative had taken 
its toll. I was relieved he was finally asleep and 
getting some rest. The room was warm so there was no 
need to cover him, and it wasn't necessary that he be 
awake for the bath. 

I anticipated the bath would go quickly but that was a 
miscalculation. The swelling of his face, and 
especially around his eye and lips required that I be 
careful, as did bathing his chest and ribs. The other 
scratches and abrasions on his elbows and knees also 
slowed the bath. And I hadn't even bathed his groin 
area yet. But then again, I was taking my time. 

Bathing Tim had been good for me. Having my hands on 
his body and seeing him clean helped me realize that 
though he was hurt, he was going to be all right. I 
just wanted to pull him close and hold him. Seeing him 
like this touched my heart and I couldn't help but lean 
forward and kiss his forehead. I should have stopped 
there but I didn't. 

Maybe it was the moment or how pitiful he looked or my 
need – I don't know, but here he was stretched out 
naked before me and I kissed his eye, both cheeks then 
his swollen lips. Before I realized it I was softly 
kissing him all over his face, neck and chest. I hoped 
that would make it better – somehow overwhelm his pain 
with pleasure. 

My right hand that had been softly rubbing his chest, I 
let slide down to his stomach. My lips followed my 
hand, kissing all the way to his navel. It was probably 
good that I hadn't bathed the groin area yet, otherwise 
I would kiss my way down to his cock and sucked him. I 
hadn't been able to keep my eyes off it all evening.

Looking at him naked and stretched out before me, I was 
again impressed at how well he was built. I hadn't had 
my hands on him in such a personal way since he was a 
small child. He was going to be a beautiful man. I let 
my hand slide down and grab his penis. It was soft yet 
quite impressive, especially for a sixteen year old. I 
massaged it for a moment then dropped my hand to his 
balls and cupped them. Very nice. After a gentle 
manipulation with my fingers, I returned my hand to 
cradling his cock. I let it lay in my upturned hand 
like a baby bird. 

The moment was somewhat surreal; suddenly they all were 
mine. The lips, the strong arms and chest, the thighs 
were mine – all mine. And the cock, this glorious cock, 
it's mine too! I haven't completely been able to detach 
myself from those strong feelings of possessiveness. 

"Well, Mr. Precious, now it's time for your bath," I 
said aloud. 

Why do women do that? Why will we grab a dick and then 
talk to it like it understands? Even speak to it in a 
baby voice. I had just rubbed Tim's cock then lifted it 
up to inform it that it was bath time. And I can 
remember doing that when Tim was a baby – grabbing his 
little erection with my fingers, giving it a little 
shake and saying, "You're going to be momma's big boy 
some day, yes you are." Then leaning down I kissed it. 
Tim just squealed. Why do we women do that? 

Though lost in thought, I tenderly but firmly held 
Tim's cock with my left hand and began to bathe with my 
right. Tim's penis was flaccid but I had no idea if it 
would remain that way as I began to bathe it. But I had 
handled erections before and since Tim was asleep, even 
if he gets hard he won't know it. It was as I suspected 
though. All the touching, lifting and rubbing of his 
balls and cock had an effect. I now was handling a very 
erect and impressive cock. The birthday boy was nearly 
seven inches long. I was so proud, as if I had 
something to do with its growth. 

Bathing his pubic hair area was now more difficult but 
more fun. Now I had to firmly grip the hard cock and 
lift it out of the way – something that I was not 
finding unpleasant. Rinsing the face towel with one 
hand allowed my other hand the pleasantness of sliding 
up and down the shaft. I truly was ambidextrous. 

Satisfied I was finished, I eased Tim's legs apart, 
being careful with the cut, to tenderly blot any 
remaining moisture. This made for an erotic sight and I 
probably spent too much time drying and caressing his 
cock. I was finished but bathing his entire pelvic area 
had taken its toll because I did the unthinkable, I 
bent forward, closed my eyes and gently kissed Tim's 
dick. It was like he was a baby again, but I could see 
he clearly wasn't. Somewhere along the way the roles of 
nurse and mother Barndt had been cast aside and a horny 
34-year-old woman took control. 

How can I explain it? It was like I had slipped off 
into another realm – the realm of Euphoria. I was like 
a small puppy with its eyes closed nuzzling around its 
mother in search of the nipple. My nose and lips 
nuzzled in Tim's crotch until found the large nipple. 
Kissing and licking my way up the shaft, I slipped my 
lips over the crown and slid the cock into my mouth and 
began to nurse. 

I remember Tim nursing at my breast – how his mouth and 
tongue, pressuring my nipple, coaxed my heavy breast 
until it surrendered its sweetness to his hungry mouth. 
Now it was my mouth and tongue circling and pressing 
the cock-head in anticipation of its sweet release. I 
didn't have to wait long. 

Though he was asleep, it was to be another sweet dream 
that would yield a nocturnal emission. His breathing 
became uneasy and he slowly began to fuck my mouth. I 
gently cupped his balls and helped him as best as I 
could by moving with him. There was a moment when I 
thought I would simply lift my leg, straddle him and 
slowly ease down on his cock; I wanted him in me. But I 
decided against it because of the laceration. I was 
just as content waiting for what I knew would be a 
large birthday release; it was mine so I continued to 
nurse. I was not disappointed. 

He stiffened and like a volcano began to erupt. Geyser 
after geyser spewed. So much that I couldn't keep pace 
with him and some seeped from the corners of my mouth 
and dripped down onto his swollen shaft. Even though 
the torrent now taken care of, I laid my head on his 
stomach, closed my eyes and continued to nurse from 
him. Squeezing then sucking, I left nothing. Finally 
lifting myself, I looked at him; he was beautiful. I 
loved him so much. He was now resting much better. 
Doctors can do a lot, but they can't match that. 

I nursed from him again two more time during the night. 
He didn't wake until 10:00 AM. 

I never looked at him as a little boy again. 

The second incident occurred about a year after Tim's 
fight. It was a Sunday and we had returned from a 
baseball game – a double header and I was exhausted. Ed 
owns a small office custodial business, and when he's 
home he checks on his employees. This usually takes him 
about four hours, so while he went to check on the 
business I took a shower to wash away the sweat. Being 
in the sun all day my skin was both dry and sunburned.

The hot shower was very relaxing. Finished drying, I 
quickly rubbed lotion on my arms and legs, slipped on 
the new t-shirt Tim purchased for me at the game – XX-
large – and returned to the Game Room. Tim had 
showered, put on some boxers and was already watching 
another baseball game. I couldn't take another game so 
I went to the kitchen, poured myself a large glass of 
wine and returned to the Game Room thinking I would 
rest. 

With my back hurting from sitting five hours in a hard 
chair, I stretched out on the floor on my stomach. 
Between the floor and the wine I finally relaxed, but 
my legs were beginning to sting. I wanted to apply more 
lotion but was just too exhausted. So turning onto my 
back, I adjusted the t-shirt then asked Tim if he would 
rub some lotion on my legs. He could still watch the 
game while sitting in the floor. 

Because of the lateness of the hour I hadn't put on 
panties. Being exhausted I knew I would probably fall 
asleep, so I reminded Tim to be on his best behavior. 
He winked. I scowled back. When I finally nodded off, 
Tim was still sitting on the couch unable to tear 
himself away from the game.

I don't know how long I had been asleep before I began 
dreaming, but my dream was erotic. I was lying in an 
open field and the sun was warm on my naked body. I 
could feel hands softly caressing my legs, then slowly 
they moved up and gently began rub. I felt the lips and 
tongue of an invisible lover. The licking and kissing 
were slow and deliberate - probing and penetrating. 

Though unable to see anyone I could feel the hot breath 
of a lover as he was deeply inhaling my scent. He was 
taking his time. I raised my hips to him and could feel 
the pressure of his lips and the softness of his 
tongue. Repeatedly his tongue trailed up and down the 
center of my pussy. But then his tongue began to snake 
its way lower and lower and lower. I felt him as he 
lifted my hips. 

The tongue was circling, moving closer and closer. I 
lifted my ass up to him knowing where his tongue would 
land. The pleasure sensation was almost unbearable. How 
long should I let him rim me before I surrender? Will 
someone come and fuck me? Anyone? And when? I want it 
now! I began to hump into him. I want to be tongued! 

I still didn't see my lover, but the tongue moved back 
to my pussy and now the mouth was sucking my wetness. 
Gasping I began to slowly collects my thoughts and 
awaken. This is not a dream! I'm in the Game Room and 
someone has turned my pussy and ass into a buffet – 
it's Tim! 

I knew there were only two courses of action – scream 
and respond in shock or continue to pretend to be 
asleep. How could I respond in shock when I found him 
so mouth-watering just over a year ago? So I pretended 
to be asleep, thinking that I could yawn and stretch, 
which would alert Tim I was waking. He then could pull 
down the t-shirt and return to the couch, avoiding 
embarrassment to us both.

I stretched like I was waking once and he quickly 
pulled off, but at the last minute I decided to remain 
quiet. I should have brought it all to an end, but I 
couldn't; I wanted to see what he would do. It didn't 
take him long and he was again slowly easing my legs 
apart. It shouldn't have been but it was so erotic 
knowing that is was my son that was so sweetly pulling 
open my legs so he could get at my goodies. With me 
again open and exposed, he buried his face in my 
crotch. He was a natural and was enjoying me. And I was 
enjoying him too. 

But this was to change. I was surprised when I felt him 
begin to move up my body. I just couldn't believe it; 
he was repositioning himself and was preparing to fuck 
me. There was no doubt about it, he was lowering 
himself on me and there was a large hard cock being 
lowered to my nest. 

While I wanted to yawn and awaken, my body betrayed me. 
I opened my legs a little wider and waited. I wanted to 
pull my legs up to my chest and give him access at me, 
but to so would surely reveal that I wasn't sleeping. 
At least in my present position, he didn't have the 
best access and would have to work harder for his 
pussy. A fact that I was beginning to fine humorous. I 
had told the little shit to put on some lotion and here 
he is trying to put 'in' some lotion. He was pushing 
but just couldn't find the vagina. I loved his 
frustration. 

One thing was sure though, he was hard and ready to 
fuck mommy. He was getting close to his pussy, but he 
wasn't going to get any. I was having too much fun. I 
rolled over on my left side, pulled up my right leg 
toward my chest then sighed as if going deep in sleep 
again. Now there it was, in plain view and easy to 
access. All he has to do is ease up and slide in. 

I can hear him shifting around behind me, positioning 
himself. I know him all too well; he's congratulating 
himself, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. I decided that 
I would let him ease up and touch me. Ah, there it is; 
I can feel it. My, is he swollen! It was then that I 
decided he would get some pussy, but not today, so I 
coughed, stretched and began to slowly wake up. And 
quickly he pulled down my t-shirt and jumped back on 
the couch. 

Thinking about this has brought a big smile to my face. 

I was startled by Wanda's voice as she brought me back 
to reality. "You're done, Pam. What were you thinking?"

I ignored her. 

Walking me to the door she whispered, "Pam, I've been 
watching you for a couple of months now. You're really 
wound tight, honey. You need to get laid."

And before I could express my shock, she shoved me out 
the door.

*** 

Next on my schedule is the bath and pampering. I didn't 
appreciate having to follow the salon with a bath – I 
preferred the other order – but I was left with no 
choice. In fact, there seemed to be little choice for 
me with all that was happening; I felt powerless to 
change or alter anything. It was as if fate was 
preparing events for the weekend and Tim and I were its 
players. So, with the bath water drawn and the scented 
oils added, I stripped down. Undressing confirmed what 
I had suspected – I was unusually wet. My panties were 
soaked – the entire crotch – and had to be peeled away 
like a second skin. 

My thoughts were becoming increasingly erotic. My 
nipples were enlarged and I just continued to ooze lust 
lotion. I was slick with anticipation. Even the outer 
lips of Miss Priss were swollen. I know it's the 
natural reaction of the body preparing the vagina for 
penetration, but I shouldn't let that happen. And yet I 
continued to prepare. 

Before getting into the tub I got my wand from the 
bedroom and the scissors from the dresser. I'm going to 
bathe and trim Miss P, but first I need get off. I 
simply can't be around Tim without releasing some of my 
sexual tension. I know what I need to happen this 
evening, but I don't want to think about it. This is 
such an inappropriate time for these feelings. This is 
my Mother's Day dinner! 

Yet here I am preparing like a bride for her wedding 
night. Every hole will be trimmed, polished, and ready 
for action. It's a dangerous game. I'm getting the 
beast ready while at the same time hoping to appease 
her with the wand. Please, please, Miss Priss, 
cooperate with me tonight. I'm extremely vulnerable; 
this has been building for seven years.

***

Tim arrived at 6:30 and I greeted him with a motherly 
hug and kiss. I was feeling more calm and in control. 

Tim returned the hug. Maybe a little too full-bodied, 
but I presumed I was just self-conscious. After all, he 
had just driven four hours and was glad to be home. 

"Hi mom, you look fantastic! New outfit?"

"No, I've had it for several weeks."

I had purchased it several weeks earlier and had been 
saving it for a special occasion. The outfit was not 
overly dressy and since we were going to Jeremiah's, a 
dinner club with a younger clientele, the outfit should 
work fine for me.

"Tim, do you think this is too young for me? After all 
I'm 38 and this top is a little snug and low cut."

Grinning he said, "Why as me; blouses are never too low 
or too tight for me. Turn around...let me see the back. 
Oh man, I really like the back. It's cut so low and the 
way the straps cross is a nice touch. You have a very 
beautiful back, Mom."

Turning back toward Tim I said, "Thanks, sweetheart. 
How about the skirt? It's a Mauri skirt and rides lower 
on the hips than what I'm accustomed to. But I just 
loved the roseate color... so I bought the outfit. I'm 
still not sure about the pearl snaps on the front of 
the skirt though. You won't be embarrassed of me will 
you?"

"Mom, you really don't know how desirable you are as 
woman, do you? Ed may not be showing you in ways that 
are clear, but I'm going to try my best this weekend 
change all that. I want you to know that though you've 
always been a great mom, you STILL ARE a fantastic 
woman. I like the skirt. Are the pearl snaps decorative 
or functional?

I deliberately ignored several of his comments and 
directly I knew better than to respond to his comments, 
but they did have an affect. "Oh, they're functional." 

"Well, with legs like yours, I think you ought to 
unsnap a couple of them. Here, let's see what it would 
look like."

Without waiting for permission, Tim knelt down, grasped 
the snap and attempted to open it, but didn't have any 
luck. After a few minutes he tried another approach. He 
slipped his right hand up my skirt so he could hold the 
reverse side of the snap and tried again. 

I couldn't help but smile as I looked down on him. I 
ran my fingers through his hair. He was a beautiful 
young man. Looking up, he returned the smile then went 
back to the snap. I would have told him how to do it 
but he was so intent on helping that I felt it would be 
better if I didn't interfere. Oh, the things we mothers 
do for our children.

But suddenly it dawned on me what Wanda had said 
earlier. Yes, I brought him into the world, but that 
was 20 years ago. But here is a 6'3" 200 pound young 
man with his hand up my dress. Yes, I'm his mom, but 
first and foremost I'm a 38-year-old woman – and the 
emphasis is on woman, as in vagina – a fact that 
apparently was not lost on Miss Priss. She was already 
moist and warm, and getting warmer every minute. 

Wrestling with the stubborn snap was bringing into 
contact the back and side of Tim's hand with the inside 
of my lower thighs. Each time he touched or rubbed me 
it was like a lightning bolt shooting straight to my 
pussy. And matters weren't helped as I looked down. The 
visual effect was stirring. My beautiful son is 
kneeling before me and his hand is up my skirt. 
Fantasies. How do you keep them out of your head?

It was then that Miss Priss started talking to me 
again. 

<~> You know what he wants...what any 20 year old male 
wants...he wants to slide his hand all the way up your 
thigh...it doesn't take that long to unsnap the 
skirt...he's faking it...anyone could have figured it 
out by now...that's why he's on his knees...you can 
help him...open your legs a little so he can move his 
hand up...help him...just lean in to him...he'll know 
what you want... <~> 

Knowing I needed to smother my thoughts I asked, "How 
we commin'?" 

"Not so good...could you open your legs... I mean widen 
your stance...maybe I can get a better grip. I'm trying 
to be careful... I don't want to tear the fabric."

"Well, take your time sweetheart... I don't want the 
fabric torn." 

<~> shit, I can't believe I just said that... I might 
as well just tell him what I need and ask him to do the 
job... I can't do that – shit, I can't do that... but 
he wants my legs exposed and open – that's what he 
said... oh, he said widen your stance, but you know 
what he means... he means spread your legs... now is 
the perfect time... just grab the sides of the skirt 
and pull it up slowly... he won't say a word... hell, 
he's 20 years old, you know where his eyes will go... 
right to momma's honey pot... he wants some of momma's 
sugar... it's Mother's Day... you deserve it... that 
shit ass Ed is always gone... you need this so bad... 
you're ready, you know you are, you got ready in the 
bathroom... just ease the skirt up then open up your 
stance... you're just doing what he asked you to do... 
watch his eyes, when they look up the skirt, and they 
will, gently pull his face up to your pussy... he'll do 
the rest... as close as he is he can probably smell you 
anyway...oh, shit, I hadn't thought of that... <~>

My breathing was now short and irregular. "HOW WIDE? 
Ahh, sorry honey, I didn't mean to shout. I mean, how 
wide should my legs... listen, before I do that, try 
something for me. Maybe the snaps are the new kind... 
try to push down on the back and up on the front before 
you try to pop the snap open."

"Oh, you're a genius, mom... that was the secret. When 
you know that the snaps can be opened easily with one 
hand. Thanks mom, I never would have figured it out. 
Anyway, I'll just unsnap one and you can see how it 
looks."

I was still shaken but at least I got him out from 
under my skirt. I very nearly did something foolish. 
Now that Tim was standing I said, "I guess that looks 
alright. What do you think, honey? Does it look OK?"

Tim was grinning now. "You've always had beautiful 
legs, mom. You know I've always been fascinated with 
them... I mean how many tubes of lotion do you think 
I've rubbed on you over the years? For my part, I'd 
like to see two more snaps open. Spin around and let me 
look at the whole package."

But he was right about one thing, he sure had applied a 
lot of lotion over the years. Turning around then I 
looked back over my shoulder and said, "Whoa, mister. 
Two more snaps would open me up like an oyster." 

"Well, I love oysters. Honestly, Mom, it wouldn't hurt 
once in a while to show a little leg. You ought to 
remember that you're still young."

Tim then stepped up behind me and encircled me with his 
arms. 

"Mom, you just don't know how beautiful you are. It's 
not just you're legs, it's every part of you, and 
especially your butt."

Tim's closeness gave me a wonderful feeling of security 
and I let him pull me closer without protesting. His 
left forearm lay across my upper chest, which enabled 
his left hand to gently stroke my right arm. It felt 
good. His right arm went lower, encircling my waist and 
rested on my navel. Slowly he hand began to rub. As 
close as we were, if he had been erect I would have 
felt him, but he wasn't; I was glad. But I did feel 
there was a conspiracy between my heart and Miss Priss 
to get me fucked.

Closing my eyes, I rested my head back against him as 
he continued to softly rub the fabric. Maybe he didn't 
realize that there was a flesh and blood woman beneath 
that fabric, but I sure did. I was tingling in all the 
wrong places. I knew I should stop him, but it had been 
so long since I had been held. He was warm and felt so 
good against me. I needed him, but worse, I wanted him.

<~> Oh honey, if you only knew how your hand feels 
rubbing me. Mmmmm, lower sweetheart, rub momma 
lower...come on, it's alright, let your hand slide 
down, momma's so ready... OH, MY! That's it, that's it, 
keep going, don't stop... that's it, push your hand 
under the blouse... <gasp> ...oh, my - my - my... honey 
your hand is so soft and warm to the touch... keep 
rubbing sugar... lower, push your hand lower honey... 
momma wants your hand to go lower...don't be afraid... 
just ease your hand down inside momma's panties. Ummm, 
I've needed this for so long... what you want 
sweetheart is just a little lower... Mmmmmm, come on 
baby, you can do this. You know you want it... you're 
so close... don't stop now... maybe I should help 
him... maybe take his hand and ease it down between my 
legs... with just a little help he will get the idea... 
if he can just get his hand on my pussy he'll be 
fine... no, no I better not help... I better let him 
work at his own pace. Mmmmmm, that's it honey. I know 
you're unsure and being cautious, but momma won't stop 
you... here, let me open my legs just a bit more – 
there now... did you feel momma open her legs... that 
was for you sweetheart... now ease your hand down 
inside the skirt... oh yeah, oh yeah, that's it 
sweetheart – that's momma's hair...now rub it with your 
fingers...no, it's ok, don't pull back – you didn't go 
too far...damn it Tim, stop playing – I opened up my 
legs - get a finger in me...shit Pam, slow down...if 
you allow Tim to continue you're gonna have to fuck 
him...what's wrong with you...you can't let him get his 
hand on your pussy then send him outside to ride his 
bike... can't you feel what's poking you in the ass... 
damn it, get a grip – he's hard... cookies and milk is 
not going to satisfy him... if he gets a finger in your 
pussy you're done for girl... in fact... no, don't even 
let yourself think about it...make a wise crack, kiss 
him on the cheek and step away from him...you both then 
can save face and sheepishly laugh this off...go on, do 
it – do it before it's too late...NO – I'm not going to 
laugh it off this time... he's not a little boy rubbing 
lotion on my thighs now... I need this too much... he's 
mine - he wants to fuck me - it's Mother's Day - and 
I'm going to let him...lift your hips into his hand 
just a little...Mmmmmm... there... take your time 
sweetheart, I'm in no hurry...momma has some pussy for 
you – all you want... <gasp> <gasp> oh, god I'm going 
to have an orgasm... try to control it... don't groan 
and don't jerk - aah – umph – umph – oooh – oooh – oh 
fuck I didn't feel this coming... oh I wish I could 
just scream...ummmm...

I know Tim felt my spasms. Even as hard as I tried, I 
still couldn't keep from pressing into his hand, even 
if just a little. It was slight but I'm sure he noticed 
that I humped his hand several times. I should be 
embarrassed but I'm not. I want him to know that I'm 
ready to fuck. But he is such a sweetheart. He never 
let on or said a word. He just held me tight until I 
began to calm down. How did he learn this? Rick?

Withdrawing his hand from my skirt Tim said, "Well, 
I'll go grab a quick shower and be right back. How does 
that sound?"

"Fine, sweetheart. I'll be waiting." 

And with that Tim gave me a hug then turned and left to 
get ready.

Still highly aroused I straightened my skirt and smiled 
as he walked away.

<~> Young man, it's Mother's Day and one way or another 
you are going to give me some dick <~>

***

From the Author: Part 2 is nearly completed. Please 
return for dinner, dancing and delights. Relationships 
are always complicated and sometimes it is difficult to 
determine who is playing whom.

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 35