I’m Mom’s MedicationChapter 2

Mom opened her eyes and turned her head slowly. “Ohhhh, John,” she sighed. She allowed herself to be pulled up to a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her meaty breasts swaying as she moved. I tried to keep my eyes on Mom’s face. She looked down at the grungy, threadbare carpet, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry, son,” Mom whispered.

“Its okay, Mom,” I replied as I helped her get to her feet. Mom staggered against me, her large breasts mashing against my chest — her nickel sized nipples, still hard and swollen, scraping against the thin cotton of my T-shirt. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Mom, unsteady on her feet, leaned heavily on me, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist as I walked her into the bathroom. I could smell her, the mixed aromas of sweat, wet pussy and sperm coming off her in thick waves. I had to slip one arm under hers to keep her up, my hand inadvertently pressing into her swaying breast, my eyes wandering again and again to her shaved mound, pussy lips still spread wide.

I helped Mom slip into the steamy, soapy water, her groan of satisfaction making the hairs on my arm rise up while it made blood rush to my cock. I was relieved to see most of her nakedness disappear beneath the soap bubbles, hoping it would help quell the feelings I had surging through me. I knelt there next to the tub for a few minutes studying Mom as she relaxed, wondering what I could do to fix this insane situation. Finally, I reached up to the metal shelf over the toilet and pulled down a washcloth and soaking it in the water, began washing Mom’s face.

Mom opened her brilliant blue eyes and rolled her face towards me — her expression a mixture of shame and love. “I’m sorry, John…I, I did it again,” she murmured like a repentant child.

I shrugged and said, “Let’s not worry about it now. Here…” I placed the washcloth in her hand and continued, “Get washed up, Mom and we can go home.”

I saw tears well up in my mother’s eyes as she slowly nodded and almost robotically began to wipe herself off in the water. I should have averted my eyes as she swept one meaty breast up and washed it clean, leaving pink skin marred by bite marks, both new and old. As Mom dropped her hand into the water, her knees rising up as she ran the cloth between the middle of her legs, she shivered and said, “I just can’t help it. I try not to think about it…honestly, I try and do without, but I want it so much…”

Mom’s body shivered slightly as she rubbed herself more intently until I reached out and touched her on the shoulder and said as my face reddened, “Let’s shower you off and get you dressed.

Mom nodded meekly and as I helped her come to her feet in the tub, her slightly overweight body slick with soapsuds that ran down her chest and stomach and legs in a way that made the blood pound in my brain. I got the shower flowing, rinsing Mom’s body off as she stroked her skin, turning and facing me, her breasts swaying entrancingly as she leaned forward to allow me to rinse the sperm out of her hair and while Mom closed her eyes, I found myself helpless, unable to turn away from her mature beauty. I can feel my erection struggling for space in my khakis.

Once the shower is turned off, I helped Mom out of the tub and she stood close as I towel her off, eyes again closed and her nipples barely touching my chest as she allowed me to dry her off. I wrapped the towel around her shoulders, draping the rough cotton material over her breasts and letting her know that she needed to finish herself. Mom opened her eyes again and before I could step away, moved against me, her right arm coming up around my neck as she said almost too soft to hear, “I don’t deserve you, son.” Her lips came up and pressed against mine and I felt myself go rigid as she kissed me, her tongue sneaking out to brush ever so lightly against my lips before pulling away.

I beat a hasty retreat into the bedroom while Mom finished toweling off, gathering up her clothes. A few minutes later, Mom walked out of the bathroom, unashamedly naked- walking a little bowlegged. I tried to look away, but it was impossible to do. I should’ve been ashamed to even dare look at my mother naked, but it was if she didn’t realize how hard she was making it for me…or that she didn’t care. She quickly slipped on her dress and then her sweater shirt. The skirt is scandalously short, exposing her upper thighs, while the lightweight sweater molds itself around her heavy breasts, her nipples clearly outlined by the material.

“I looked around and couldn’t find, um, your panties,” I said to Mom, only to have her look at me — her expression gradually changing from mild amusement to embarrassment as I slowly realized there were no panties to find. Mom slipped on her high heels and then stood before me, not so much looking like a middle-aged mother, but a wanton slut about to walk the streets. I felt helpless — unable to turn away and even though we both know its wrong, I could not help but stare at my mother while she smiled — pleased at my attention.