Are You Fucking Mom? Pt. 01

All characters engaged in sex acts are eighteen or older.

The little pull down ladder creaked as I climbed it up into the attic. "Mom?" I called.

"Up here, Nick," she called back. I turned to look and she was bent over with her back turned to the ladder. Her big butt shook and strained against her jeans as she rummaged through the box in front of her. Even then, before all the mad shit started, I knew my mom was an attractive woman. Plenty of guys have hot moms, and the thought crosses all their minds. Any guy who has a hot mom and tells you that he never noticed is lying, and they make a fuss when their friends say anything about it. I was lucky enough to have inherited some of her looks. My hair wasn't quite as light as hers was, and I tended toward athletic like Dad, so I got the best of both worlds.

"What are you looking for?" I gingerly stepped onto the flimsy attic floor. The air conditioning didn't reach up here and the June heat was oppressive. It smelled like dust. It was an old house, and there was a lot of attic space. Mom didn't answer and I moved up next to her. It was a box I had never seen open before, full of dad's stuff. A couple of baseball gloves, a Rattlers hat, the team he played on, an old pocket knife.

We lost Dad a long time ago. I remembered coming home from school and seeing mom crying in the kitchen while she got dinner ready. I was so young. Just like her to try to play through the pain and keep going for her son. Who could play through this kind of pain, though?

I placed my hand on Mom's shoulder. Her back was wet with sweat and her blonde hair was disheveled. Her eyes had a far off look. "You ok Mom?"

"Yeah I'm fine," she smiled at me. "It's been such a long time." Her blue eyes shined.

"Seventeen years," I said. "I just didn't think this was a wound you wanted to open back up."

"Your old mom is tougher than you think, Nick." She stood up and stretched. "Has it been that long? Jesus." Lots of other women her age had a similar body type. She hated the term "mom bad," but she carried herself with more grace than anyone I had seen, even women half her age. Everything curved, courtesy of my sister and I. Of course she had put on some weight, but I'll be damned if it didn't suit her. Her shirt had ridden up a bit on her and it showed her belly sticking out over her restricting shorts. My friends would always stare at her tits when they came over. I guess I couldn't blame them. They were huge, there was no mincing words about it. "My God, these things are killing my back. My bra is digging into my shoulders." She bent and stretched, her hands on her hips. "Be glad you're a man, Nick."

"When you come downstairs you can get out of it and I'll rub your shoulders."

There was quiet for a few seconds as Mom stretched some more. She grinned at me, the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. "You're probably wondering why I'm up here. Why now?"

"Well, yeah," I shrugged, "I miss Dad too, but I didn't think you were ready for... this." I was always careful what I said about Dad around Mom. She acted tougher than she was, and it would break my heart to make her upset.

"I was at Tina's today and she showed me some old videos of her and her son. He's off at college now, you know. It just reminded me of how your dad and I used to make them. I think there's even one of your birthdays here. There are a lot of boxes of his old stuff to move around." Her smile was forced now. A bead of sweat fell down her red chest between her heaving tits.

"Let me help you, then. It's too hot for you to be dragging boxes around. You have a young son, you have no reason to do it yourself."

Mom shoved me in the shoulder, "You shut your mouth! I may be fifty, but I've still got it." She leaned to the side, sticking her hips out.

She certainly did. Mom put a lot of girls my age to shame. I walked over to one of the unmarked boxes. "It's going to take a while."

"I never could get rid of this stuff," she said, remembering.

I almost missed Dad more for Mom's sake than for my own. Mom didn't make good decisions when it came to men. It had been a tired, old argument with us. I had run a few of the dirtbags that she dated off and a couple times it got physical. It's like when she lost him, she never believed again that she deserved someone as good.

We idly chatted as I moved the boxes around. Mom kept working, even though I told her not to. Most of the boxes were Dad's stuff. Old clothes, more baseball stuff, books, old models of World War II ships. There was no point to keeping all this, but as far as I knew this was the first Mom had gone through it since dad passed away.

I dragged the boxes to get at some other boxes behind them. Silverfish and spiders skittered across the floor. I found a large one that rattled when I slid it out. Opening it, I knew I had found what I needed. There were dozens of VHS tapes with titles written on the ends in Dad's neat, technical printing or Mom's sloppy cursive. "I got em, Mom!" It always gave me a thrill when I did something for Mom. That day I told her not to worry, that I was the man of the house now and I would protect her and do whatever she needed. I had been only seven.

"The tapes?"

"Yeah. Shit, there's a ton of them." I grinned.

Mom's footsteps moved across the rickety floor. She was almost right behind me when I heard a crunch and a yelp. Mom's right foot had busted through the floor, and she was down on her side, her hand rubbing her ankle and her face red and anguished. She gritted her teeth.

I kneeled down next to her, "Crap, Mom! What happened?"

"What does it look like happened? The God damn floor broke! I twisted my ankle or something when I fell. Hurts like a son of a bitch." She sucked air through her clenched teeth.

I grabbed her shoulders, as if it would steady her, or at least comfort her. "Can you get up?" I put my hands under her arms, feeling her sweaty, soft body.

Mom squirmed, and gingerly pulled her foot out of the hole. It hung, limp and inert. Still, she put it to the floor and tried to get up. The second she put any pressure on the foot, she cried out and fell back to the floor. "Mom, stop! Let me pick you up."

"Just get off me and let me walk it off, dumbass." She tried again, pushing more forcefully. This time she cried out and tears ran down her face.

"You ankle is fucked, Mom. Stop it!" I held onto her shoulders.

She looked up at me, sad defeat on her face. "Yeah, I guess it is. Fuck."

I pulled her up, then helped her down the ladder. She had pulled her foot up, instinctively keeping it away from the ground. She got out of my grasp and leaned against the wall. "Come on, Mom," I said, "Let's get you sitting down. I'll get you some ice."

Mom gave me a glare, but draped her arm over my shoulders and let me guide her downstairs and plop her down on the couch. She was muttering to herself and wouldn't meet my eyes. I took off her shoe and sock with care to reveal her black and blue swollen foot. She tried not to look scared. I got the ice pack from the freezer and wrapped her foot in it with a towel.

"I'm gonna call the doctor." I picked the phone up.

"Nick, I just need some time to rest. I'll be fine in a day or two. I'm not some damsel in distress, you know." I didn't answer and dialed the doctor.

—

After x-raying her foot, they told her she had sprained her ankle, and badly. They gave her a boot, crutches, and a prescription. She wouldn't let me help her to the car, clumsily using the crutches. She had cursed and complained on the way to the doctor, calling me a worry wart and insisting that nothing was wrong.

She was quiet as I started up the engine. "We're gonna get some take-out tonight, you don't need to be cooking."

Mom made a face like she was going to argue, but she silently nodded her head.

The sun was setting when we arrived home. I could tell Mom was in a lot of pain and exhausted, though she tried to hide that too. I didn't see her often like this. I called it "playing the part," when she pretended she was Wonder Woman and nothing could slow her down, though she was hurt or depressed or exhausted. It was when things were really bad. She would get so angry, it was like the anger propelled her forward. In a few days I knew she would cool off. I made a mental note to think of some things it would be safe for her to do around the house.

I gave Mom some of the pills, which she swallowed without complaint and I went to put them away in the bathroom, along with getting another ice pack. She was still there on the couch when I got back, leg still angry and elevated. "I'd pour you a vodka tonic, but you're not supposed to drink with your pills." I smiled and stroked her hair back.

"I guess I can be kind of a bitch, sometimes," she grumbled as I sat down next to her. She had Judge Judy on, which I couldn't stand, but I felt like she didn't need any complaining from me.

"You sprained your ankle. It's not like you're at your best now." I put my arm around her.

"Well, I'm still sorry. All you did was help, and I took my bullshit out on you. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here." She gave me a sheepish smile and laid her head on my chest.

"Don't worry about all that, Mom. I'll deliver the doctor's note to work and take care of you. I can even take a few days off."

Her eyes got that defiant look again, but she took a deep breath. "Thanks Nick. You're a good boy. Your old mom loves you."

—

"So how come she was up in the attic?" Ashley asked.

We were lying on my bed in my room watching a movie, her head on my chest. "She was going through Dad's stuff." My room was much the same as it had been when I was a kid. I had upgraded my movie posters to framed pictures and I had a queen bed now. Though I could have afforded to be out on my own, I refused. I knew Mom needed me here. She needed help and company, and protection from the assholes she brought home. I had a couple of Dad's old World War II battleship models. My little TV had a VCR and game console.

"How much do you still have?"

"A lot of it. Mom never got rid of anything."

"Jesus. Why now, then?" She asked.

"Her friend showed her an old video and she was looking for our old tapes. Dad had a camcorder he loved. We did find them."

"What did he record?"

"Most of it was his baseball games." Dad didn't play pro, but he was quite good and had a local team, the Rattlers, he played shortstop for. He had damn near started the thing, and was president of the association for a few terms. "Cammy and my birthdays. I don't remember what else."

Ashley turned and looked up at me, a mischievous look on her face. She was blonde haired, blue eyed, big tits, and thick around the middle. My friends made a big deal out of it that she looked so much like Mom. Even Mom teased me that Ashley looked like her. "What?" I asked.

"They have anything spicy?" She smirked.

"How the hell would I know?"

"I guess you wouldn't, but I sure as hell would make something like that if I had a camcorder."

"Who would you do it with?"

"Fuck you!" She sat up and pushed my shoulder. "Don't you think it would be fun?"

I shrugged, "It's fun anyway, no need to film it. I don't want my cock out on tape."

"What's the matter? Afraid people would watch and you wouldn't," she cleared her throat, "measure up?"

"Oh, now you done did it!" I tightened my grip around her as she squealed. With my other hand I slapped her ass hard.

"Fuck, Nick! What are you trying to do?"

"Teach you a lesson," I said, giving an evil smile. She yelped as I slapped her ass again, just as hard. I took hold of her arms and pinned her down, then rolled on top of her. She screamed when I bit her shoulder, and I pushed up her shirt and motorboated her soft belly.

"You fucker!" she laughed, pounding my back with her fists.

Stuff like this always got me going. I moved back up on top of her and pinned her arms over her head again. "Someone's getting excited," she said as my stiff cock pressed into her leg.

I pushed my face into hers, and our lips met and parted. Our kiss was wet and sloppy and I tasted the chips we had been eating.

Her blue eyes were heavy lidded as she looked up at me. "Big man. You got me, what are you gonna do to me now?"

"Like I said, teach you a lesson." I kissed her soft belly and pushed her shirt up even more, exposing her bra, straining with her large tits.

"Ow, hey!" she cried as I pulled her bra down, exposing her blushing pink nipple. "This thing has been killing my shoulders all day. For God's sake, let me take it off." She moved out from under me and threw her shirt off, reaching around her back. Her plump belly stuck out over the waist of her jeans. She fiddled for a moment, then the bra fell free and her amazing tits fell down her front.

I surged forward, taking one boob in my hand and kissing the other. I squeezed and the juicy flesh squished under my fingers. Her areola stiffened under my kisses. She sighed and stroked my hair. Seeing that I had her just where I wanted her, I bit her nipple.

"Ow! What the fuck?" She cried.

"I told you, I'm teaching you a lesson. You don't talk about a man's cock like that."

She rolled her eyes. "I guess there's only one way to teach me how to be afraid of your big bad cock."

I leaned into her, pressing my boner into her leg. "You're a quick learner."

"You better teach your naughty girl, then." She squirmed, and unbuttoned her shorts. She thrust her hips up and pulled them off, panties and all. When she was naked from the waist down like this was when her belly really showed. It was round and curved, and drove me wild. "You're overdressed, though," she said.

I got up on my knees and pulled my shirt over my head. Then, like she had, I removed my pants and threw them on the floor. "Jesus, you're this hard already?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Shush," I said. I moved up on top of her, the wet tip of my cock snaking up the inside of her leg. Her chest was rising and falling with her deep breaths now, and her pale skin was blushing. I loved when the blush came out in her nipples like this.

We kissed again, and this time it was even more ravenous, filling the room with our smacks. Her soft tits pressed against my chest and her erect nipples poked me. My hands traveled up her sides, to her bare, smooth shoulders. Sure enough, there were red marks on her shoulders where her bra strap had rested. Even her shoulders had that extra bit of softness that I loved so much.

Our tongues entwined, and this time I got her familiar taste along with the salt and grease of the chips. She sighed softly out her nose. I rubbed my cock on the outside of her pussy, feeling her bush already wet with her own arousal. "I'm not the only one who's excited," I said. The bottom of my dick got wet from her juice.

Her eyes were starstruck and I knew I had her right where I wanted her. I pushed ever so lightly against her lips with my dick. She inhaled and held her breath, her chest rising. I pushed once, twice, three times, just for good measure, never quite penetrating her. Though her mouth opened a little wider each time, she still held her breath.

Then I pushed in earnest, feeling her hot wetness all around me. She moaned, and then gasped. My breath fluttered. God she felt good. As I moved further into her, her wetness dribbled out onto the sheets. "Fuck," she hissed.

"Still think I don't 'measure up'?" I thrust quickly for the last inch or so, eliciting a groan from her.

Ashley threw her head back, running her fingernails down my back. "Jesus, it's like I forget how good you feel going in." I twitched my cock inside her, and she gasped with each one.

I pumped slow and steady, Ashley lowering her head and meeting my eye. "Shit," she moaned, "Yeah, fuck me like that."

I kissed her neck and shoulders and her big tits bounced gently up and down with each of my thrusts. Reaching up, I took her nipple and rolled it between my fingers. "You better cum for me tonight, if you know what's good for you," I growled.

"Keep doing what you're doing and that won't be a problem." I sped up, fucking her like she needed. Her tits started to bounce more, almost enough to hit her in the chin. She whined and whimpered with each time I pounded her, muttering "fuck" and "yes" under her breath.

Ashley spread her legs as wide as they would go, then wrapped her fat thighs around me. Her heels pressed into my back. I plunged my cock into her over and over, and she flooded with her passion. We were both as wet as we could get, and our flesh slapped together audibly.

"You've almost got me there, Nick. Fuck! Don't stop." Her bouncing tits moved in circles now, wet and glistening with her sweat. There was plenty of sweat of my own, and a droplet fell from my head onto her face.

But then I stopped cold, it was like throwing the brakes on a train, and I struggled to stay still. Her pussy trembled around me. She stared at me slack-jawed, not quite sure what was happening. "Oh really? It's good enough to make you cum, but not for video?"

"I was just kidding. Don't stop."

"I don't believe you," I said.

"Quit fooling around, you asshole. I was about to cum."

"No. Not until you tell me how much you like my cock."

"Aww, little man. Did I bruise your ego?" I stared in silence at her for several heartbeats. "Ugh, fine. You know I love your cock, Nick. Are you forgetting I came for the first time with you?"

I moved imperceptibly slow. "Come on, fuck me. I need your cock, is that what you want to hear?"

That was good enough, I guess. Ashley laughed as I sped up to pound her. The tendons in her neck started to strain, and I felt my orgasm close too. Now I was out of control, thrusting with every bot of strength and speed I had, Ashley's exquisite tits bobbing, jiggling, and slapping.

She tried to say something, but all that came out was a low moan from her open mouth. She trembled, and pressed her hips into me as hard as she could. Her breaths were deep and gulping, and each one came with a wildcat groan.

Just as she was coming down, I felt that familiar livewire sensation run down to the tip of my dick. I groaned and shook, just like she had, the muscles in my ass tensing as if I could fling my load deeper into her. Each pump of my cock was an explosion of pleasure, and soon I gave my last, trembling push. My elbows trembled, barely able to hold me up.

Ashley's face was adoring and gratified. "I don't know how you do it, Nick." She squirmed, "Fuck, the sheets are soaked."

I rolled and lay next to her. She pressed her sweaty skin into me, "I didn't mean anything by what I said, you know. I was just teasing," she said.

"I know, I just wanted to tease a little bit too." That wasn't strictly true. The teasing got to me more than I cared to admit, whether it was about my dick or that Ashely looked so much like Mom. And her soft body definitely did. Mom's tits were a little bigger and she was a little rounder in general, but if you didn't know better, you might think I was living out some kind of twisted fantasy.

I sat up on the side of the bed. "You showering?" she asked. I nodded. "Mind if I join you?" Her grin was naughty.

—

I had to admit, looking through Dad's old stuff really piqued my curiosity. It was a little hard. When you go so long not thinking about someone who meant so much to you, it can hurt a little when you're confronted with enough memories of that person.

Most of Dad's videos were labeled. Rattlers vs. Dynamite 5/6/85. Cammie's B-day 1986. I hated to admit it, but the baseball tapes were pretty boring. It was only really exciting when Dad was at bat and Mom wasn't the greatest at filming. After a couple I decided to save the baseball tapes for later. There was one with just the date on it, and I popped it in. There was Dad, working on one of his models in the garage. This is when he still had that mustache that Mom hated. The camera was to Dad's side, his brown shaggy hair and athletic arms visible. I was on the stool next to him. I was little enough that he would have had to pick me up and place me up there. My piping voice asked a lot of questions. "What's that piece for?" "Why does the glue smell like that?" "How big is the boat?" Dad answered each question with the patience of a saint.