Chapter 9

Turning back to look at him, her nipples grazed the inside of my forearms. I held my arms looser against her now so that my arms kept brushing her nipples. Perhaps to avoid my touch, she pressed back against me, contacting my groin where my cock continued to stir. My arms followed, renewing their light contact against her.

“The doctor told me that Dad’s mind had regressed, kind of like in alzheimers. He said Dad would recognize you but think I was him when he was younger.” I was lying, like Frank had lied about Donna.

“Really? They didn’t tell me that. Which one told you that?”

“That specialist guy, the older one. I don’t remember his name,” I replied. “He told me in the waiting room when you were talking to the other doctors. He said it would be comforting for Dad if he saw you and me together. He didn’t talk to you?” I needed time to develop this line of bullshit that was forming in my head.

“No. Are you sure he said that?”

“Yeah, he said that even if it was a little awkward that I should act like I was Dad. He said I should hug you and be intimate with you. He said it would stir Dad’s memories and might help him recover a bit. Maybe.”

“Oh. But I don’t see how…”

“He said Dad would think I was him, and that he was reliving memories with you. He said intimate moments make the most potent memories and were the most likely to bring him back.” I knew where I was going with this now.

“But why wouldn’t he have told me?” Mom asked.

“He said a mother might feel awkward asking for that kind of help from her son, even though she would certainly go along with it for her husband’s sake. He said he was going to talk to you about it later but if you didn’t say anything to me I should take the initiative. He said it was experimental, and the other doctors might not agree with it so we shouldn’t discuss it with them.”

“Well, what should we do?”

“He said to start with just hugging and stuff, then see how it goes.”

“But how far…” Mom’s voice trailed off, perhaps not wanting to finish her sentence, to follow where it lead.

I jumped in, “He said to go slowly, but it was important to keep going until we got a reaction from him.” I moved my arms around on her breasts, my arms tight enough that I could feel her nipples bend with my movements.

“But he doesn’t react to anything,” Mom protested.

“I know, Mom, but we have to try until he does.” I couldn’t help pressing my groin forward, becoming excited as I anticipated what might happen. “Just close your eyes, Mom. I’ll just hug you and kiss your cheek. Maybe he’ll remember himself kissing you.”

Mom closed her eyes. I nuzzled her neck, then began brushing her cheeks with my lips and planting little kisses there. Folding my wrists around the curve of her breasts, my hands formed a case to hold them as I rocked gently into her behind. After several minutes of this, Mom opened her eyes.

“Did he do anything?” she asked, a little breathless.

“No. Be patient, Mom. It’ll probably take a while. Here, take this off so it looks like you’re getting ready for bed. Maybe that will jog his memory.” I slipped Mom’s robe off.

Mom stood there, eyes closed again. I didn’t close in behind her right away. I just had to look at her, standing in just her sleeveless nightgown, her back bared in a ‘V’ down the middle. I moved in to retake my position, put my arms around her and nestled my groin against her rump, now covered only by the thin nightgown. I dropped my head to nuzzle her cheek, kissing her and running my lips down the side of her neck. Within minutes I was running from her cheek to her shoulder, planting little kisses all the way. I slipped my right under her arm and snaked it around under her breasts to grasp her waist. I kissed her ear. She sighed softly. I traced its outline delicately with my tongue, then dipped it inside. She sighed again. I pressed harder against her bottom.

Suddenly, she broke away, looking flustered.

“Did he do anything,” she gasped, not looking at me, her face going a little red.

“No, Mom.” Then, sensing that she might be reaching her limit for this kind of behavior from her son, I added, “Maybe that’s enough to get him started. I think we should leave it until tomorrow. What do you think, Mom?” I wanted her to sign on to this plan, to be part of it.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Mom. We have to keep it up until he reacts.” I needed her commitment in case continuing became questionable later.

“Yes. Ok, tomorrow, then,” she agreed, perhaps just to put it off in order to relieve her discomfort, but she had made a commitment and I was happy.

“OK. Goodnight, Mom.” I gave her my typical peck on the cheek to emphasize that we were still mother and son outside of our intimate act for Dad’s sake. Then I left.

I ran downstairs, back to Dad’s study, to renew my search for his letters. By luck, I found one almost right away, at the top of the fourth bundle.

Hello again all. A little more about my own mother then. As I said, after that day in the kitchen Mom did relieve me with her mouth almost every day and sometimes more often. Every Sunday and Wednesday, we had our full on naked sessions at the picnic site, after working each other up in the car. Mother would let me rub myself anywhere I wanted to, even on her behind, but she wouldn’t let me get inside her, anywhere, except her mouth.

I discovered that pleasuring her with my mouth worked best for me. After that, she would let me slide up over her belly and tits to shove my hard cock into her mouth. I just loved fucking her face. If I ate her first, she almost always let me fuck her mouth and pull my cock out after the first spurt or two to drain the rest on her face. I don’t know why, but that was always the best part for me.

Once, when Dad was working on the tractor out in the yard, Mom came up behind me as I stood, several feet back in the kitchen from the open doorway but still in plain view, and slipped her hand down the front of my pants. Quickly, I sprang to life as her fingers slid around my shaft, slowly jacking me to full mast, squeezing the head and rubbing her thumb on its helmet. She wouldn’t let me turn toward her, or move away from the doorway out of sight. When I was fully hard, she used her other hand to push the front of my trousers down, baring my hard cock to the doorway.

She whispered as she caressed my cock. When Dad turned our way, searching for a tool on the ground, she stopped my flight response, firmly holding me in place, not missing a beat on my cock. As Dad cast about for his tool, Mother worked mine. If he looked up, he would have seen me. She whispered to me about how she wanted to feel my come, tonight, even before Dad went to bed, while he was still downstairs, on her face!

I exploded! She squeezed my cock hard, as if to make it shoot farther. Even though I was five or six feet from the door, I’m sure some shot outside. When I was done, my father forgotten as I spurt my life out, she laughed, “You’d better clean that up before your Father sees it.”

That night after supper, while my father sat in the living room drinking his hot rum before going to bed, Mom sucked me in the kitchen. Several times at dinner, when Dad wasn’t looking, she had made her mouth into an ‘O’ and then smiled. When dinner was finished, I was hard as a rock. She held me back in the kitchen, saying she wanted help with the dishes if I wasn’t going to work out in the fields. My father seemed pleased with this, I suppose thinking it would embarrass me into working harder. She sucked me like a real whore. She pulled me into the larder and gave me a real wet cocksuck. She kept spitting on it, holding me by my legs instead of my cock, whispering hoarsely when she pulled her mouth off, over and over, “Come on, fuck me with it … fuck my mouth … fuck my face … come on me,” on an on.

I got so excited I was jamming it into her mouth. She didn’t mind. She kept egging me on until, finally, I burst onto her face. It didn’t come in spurts. It more like a volcano burst. I don’t think I’ve ever come so much in my life.