TO KISS WHERE I CAME FROM

TO KISS WHERE I CAME FROM
A son’s loving kiss on his mother’s special place

by Oediplex 8==3~

My mother is a beautiful redhead. Her hair isn’t that dark kind of red, but a lighter, brighter shade; and natural, as I can attest from intimate knowledge. I might even say ‘bare witness’ to, the pun is intentional of course, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. Her skin is that pale creamy type of complexion that is highlighted by the pink blush on her face and other places, as well as a rosy color to parts private. Her showgirl figure has only slightly been muted by the years, and she has legs that the term shapely doesn’t do justice to.

Her work as a waitress keeps the limbs trim and chassis classy, as dad likes to quip. Mom says the job just makes her legs tired and her life boring. It is a long way from the Vegas runway she was strutting when she met my pop. He was in sales, as he still is, and at a convention in ‘the city that never sleeps’. Well, they ‘sleep’ together, but there was no rest for the wicked. That’s where and when I was conceived, an inspiration of unintentional consequences from a genuine mutual attraction and inattention to details, like birth control.

Don’t get the wrong idea, they did fall in love, it was not just a one night stand. But I was the product of that first consummation of their passion on the very evening of their initial encounter. By the end of the week though, pop had to return to New Jersey. They were certain that they would some how build a life together. When she discovered that she was with child, meaning me, she made it known to my father that she wanted to be with him, the sooner the better. So he flew out; hey, what place is best known for quickly getting hitched? And six months later I was delivered, another mouth to feed.

Twenty years later, mom is feeding people at the diner and pop is delivering sales training for his company around the county. So mother is bored and lonely, has tired feet and aching calves; dad is seldom home, has too many frequent flier miles, a middle-age paunch and balding spot. I have a job with a local electronics repair shop and live at home. We do alright and are solidly middle-class, but the humdrum of North Jersey and the tedium of the long trips away from home are not the stuff that fairy tale romances are sustained by. My fantasies however are centered on domestic loving of a more sordid sort.

If a man’s home is his castle, then my father’s princess bride is the queen of my desires. My folks say their love remains strong because, “absences makes the heart grow fonder”. But I say that ‘absence of a hard-on makes lust to wander’. What kind of sex life can you have when you see each other one week out of every four? If dad is not off doing training, he’s on the road pitching the line of products his firm makes. Most of the time I’m the ‘man of the house’. Recently, that phrase widened it’s meaning for the relationship between mom and I; for we are having relations, if you know what I mean.

I’ve always loved my mother of course, as any good son should. But, I’ve had a thing for my mom for a long time now, as any good son shouldn’t. I have to confess that now I am working and have some spending money of my own, I have invested in some electronics for home use. I don’t just mean the usual kinds of amusement equipment; TVs, DVD players, digital recorders, computers and game consoles. Those are nice and we have a couple of each, one for the parents, one for me, etc., but that’s not I’m referring to. What I acquired some years back has a very private and personal entertainment value for myself alone.

I am referring to the wireless microphone that I secretly installed under the folks bed and the receiver in my room where I can listen to and even tape their love making. Damn right I masturbate when I ease drop on them having sex! I love to hear my mother cumming when they fuck. She is so hot, how she moans and cries out and squeals as she climaxes. I would love to set up a tiny video cam, but I haven’t figured out where to hide it that would have a good angle on their bed. I did have one in her closet for a short while and got to see her changing a few times. I play the tapes often, freeze framing on the moments she is nude.

However, I never thought that what happened several weeks ago was a possibility. It was a dream cum true, a fantasy suddenly made real, a hope which was granted gratification. Yes, that’s right, I got to kiss where I came from; more than that, I got to cum where I was conceived. When I had made the redhead ready by giving her head, she allowed me to fulfill my most wicked wish; filling her wanting moist hole full with my wanton dick. Mom’s willing pussy was an easy catch by my pursuing willie, her tender trap captured my conquering cock. In other words, if I was intent on taking her, then she would surrender; if I had to have her, mother was game and wouldn’t be chaste.

The opportunity to seduce my mother happened on a warm summer evening, when my dad was gone a week, on a three week training event in San Francisco which he was in charge of. It was Saturday night after a busy shift at the diner. Mom had showered and was now in our living room wearing a light-weight, short nightgown. She was perched on the couch reading. A racy romance novel, I could tell from the cover. I was aware that this ‘put her in the mood’, for if dad had been around she would have signaled after a while that she wanted to ‘go and cuddle’. I then knew to get to my bedroom as soon as they retired and switch on the mike and listen in on their session. I was seldom disappointed.

I myself that evening was in the corner easy chair, playing an old video game which was not all that challenging. I wore my sports shorts, no tee and tonight I hadn’t bothered to put on briefs underneath. Mom tucked her legs up and I could see that she was restless, as then she put them out straight on the sofa, crossed them, then turned the other way to set her feet on the floor once more. She gave a big sigh, and shortly another as she bent down and rubbed her calves. Sitting up again, she adjusted her hips and made a small mew of frustration, read another page, then set the book open on the table beside her and closed her eyes.

“Tired, mom?’ I asked.

“Uh-huh, and my muscles are achy from being on my feet nearly the whole shift. God I hate Saturdays and tourists!” I get cramps in my legs and crap for tips. I wish your dad was here, he’d rub all the right places and make me feel better from my toes to my tits, I mean the tips of my fingers that is.” But I knew what she meant was from her heals to her hoochie-coochie. With no thought of any ulterior motive at the moment, I offered to give her a leg rub to relax the tired muscles of my hard working parent. She accepted, with a “Mmm, that sounds like just the right order! It’s nice to have a man around the house!”

“What are you, a man or a masseuse?” I paraphrased the old expression in a low tone, with dramatic comic voice. “I am but milady’s humble and obedient servant, sir, and her wish is my command!” I answered myself in a dashing hero’s baritone.

Mom laughed at my dialog as I rolled the easy chair on it’s casters to be in front of where she was seated. “It’s a real treat for somebody to serve me for a change!” She plopped her feet on either side of the chair as I sat down. “Ooh! That’s what I needed!” she exclaimed with a sigh as I began to ply the arch of one foot with my thumbs. “Yeah, Honey, you’re so good at this.” she added as I massaged the balls of her feet and then worked on the toes. “Mmmm.” a murmur was her purr.

I took my time working my way up her gamine gams. With both hands, one on the outside and the other on the inside track, first the right – then left, back over and higher, switch and move further forward. Meanwhile, her head was laid back and eyes closed. Purrs coming from her throat in contentment. I notice as I approached the hem of her night apparel that, with her legs spread at an angle due to where she had placed them on my chair, I could see quite high on her thighs. As I maneuvered toward the juncture the gown crept higher, soon it was at an immodest position and my fingers were kneading the flesh close to her crotch.

Now I was sure that she too had skipped undies, no panties were present. What was locking my eyes to her center was a shaded tract of fur, actually downy fuzz more accurately. Mom still had head reclined back and lids were down, however her breathing was heavier. Still she didn’t say anything, made no move to halt the progress closing in on her private patch, the wispy thatch of pubic hair which was the focus of my gaze. Bolder and brazenly I smoothed the flesh to the last inch of skin. Then I ventured in sin to make a glancing pass with my thumbs along the border of mother’s mons. Once . . . twice . . . but before thrice she brought her head up and looked down at me with a sweet smile on her luscious lips.

“What should a lady reward her handsome prince with for such a marvelous favor? Would he like a kiss?” she asked innocently.

I don’t know what made me say the words then, that I had long to say to her someday, but never thought I would get the chance or have the nerve. But the moment seemed to be right, the timing somehow perfect, and the mood was at once relaxed yet with a underlying heat of sexual tension somehow. Maybe because of both our closeness, and the openness of her most personal part to my view; or was it perhaps pheromones and the scent of her pussy? Or was I just so turned on that my hormones made all decorum drain from my head and the male animal was ruling my civilized self. In any case, I said softly but distinctly, looking mom right in the eyes, “I want to kiss where I came from.”

“What, what did you say? You want to kiss . . .”

“Where I came from. I love you and want to show you how much I am thankful for your being my mother and all that you do. Your tough job at the diner, the meals you make at home, all the love which you’ve provided my whole life. I want to give you a special kiss. I kiss your cheeks and on the mouth everyday. But tonight, I want to kiss where I came from. I want to kiss you on your vagina, where I was conceived, and came out of.”

She didn’t look as shocked as I expected. Bemused would be closer and perhaps a touch of wonderment. With a soft little voice she said, “You may.” She reached down and gripped the hem of her nightie and lifted it up to her abdomen. The light filtered through the hair, which was curled and slightly darker than her coif. I saw my mom’s genitals live for the first time since I had been five and walked in on her, naked in her bedroom. I remembered, but she had not made any big deal out of it at the time. Otherwise, what the hidden camera caught was just some odd angle glimpses. But now, there she was, exposed in glorious stunning beauty, proving she was a natural redhead. The labia were slightly puffed and rosy. The little pink bud was peaking out. The hair hid nothing, though it spread down the mons like new wheat. This picture was burned on my mind’s eye for the rest of my living days.

I slid to my knees on the floor and put my hands on her thighs, spreading them gently. I bent my head so that it came right up to her pussy, and I zoomed in on the labia at exactly where her entrance was, it was slightly moistened. I wondered if that meant she had been become somewhat aroused by the naughty brushes my thumbs had stolen along the edges of that pouting mons? But I didn’t hesitate by pondering her condition or my good fortune at her consenting to my request for this most intimate of osculations. She tilted her pelvis to meet my lips. I kissed her on that very spot, I kissed where I came from, on my mother’s vagina, on mom’s pussy. She gave a little gasp, but nothing else; no words to end the moment, she did not let go of the lifted material; she remained perfectly still.

I had the definite feeling that we were not through, that I could continue, in fact that we would make love in a short time. Don’t ask me why I knew, but I did, with all the confidence that her love for me was beyond question. So too, I intuited, was her acquiescence and acceptance of our pending ultimate physical intimacy. We were going to fuck, I was certain of it! I kissed her again on the precise point of her holy of holies, at the gates of heaven – the precious place of my worship. Then with a loving tenderness I gently kissed higher, then to one side and then the other. As the kisses went along the length of her split and wide to the sensitive hollow of where her legs and crotch junctioned, I heard her sigh.

Mom moaned softly and made her purring sounds, she was enjoying the loving busses on her pussy! She was letting me continue to deliver the seductive ministrations of my mouth. My pecks range from the sensual inner thighs to lower abdomen, from anus to clitoris and everywhere my mouth traveled, each place I puckered was one point closer to the next step of my deviant incestuous desires. I was only getting breathy responses of a positive nature so I initiated the next phase of my oral delectation. I went to her vaginal entrance and let my tongue make tiniest of licks. A sharp gasp, the legs opened a bit wider on their own, was her response. Slowly, but with longer slides and more of the slippery digit protruding, I proceeded to begin to go down on mom.

Surprising to me was her taste. She had of course bathed on returning home from work. There was no remaining muskiness, nor salty tang to remind one of her long labors. The perfume of mom’s scented body-wash was just detectable if my nose sniffed in her gossamer locks. But her liberal lust juices had only a faint hint of the flavor of femininity. Other gals that I had gleefully licked and lashed with my tongue were more strongly sweet/pungent in a pleasant way. Mother’s lubricant was just as slippery but light as in a virgin olive oil, though clear colored and certainly not virginal, but subtle and delicate and delicious. I slurped the gourmet dressing that came from her cunt, elixir of love.

I dwelt at the oasis of her well of love lotion, I sojourned some time ravishing the delectable pink little bud of sexual pleasure, I even dallied with the crinkled star between her cheeks. The measured pace was initially deliberate and languid as the lingual engagement began. But eventually, I was unleashing riffs of rhythmic lapping and thrusting lunges into open folds and giving sucking assaults on all parts. She stood no chance of defense against the forces given free reign when I made love with my mouth on her sex. Her squeals of joyous exhilaration and cries of excitement and mews of gratification, her sounds of sexual arousal, which I had heard during my surreptitious surveillance; were now made in my very presence because of my devotion, demonstrated most indisputably in the act of creative cunnilingus.

When my mother’s pants were rapid, interspersed by jagged breaths and wails of passion, I knew it was time for us to be united in body and soul. I shoved my shorts down to my ankles, which signaled to my flushed paramour that we were moving to the next and final phase of our outrageous erogenous erotic encounter. She negotiated her nightie over her head and off, even as she slid her hips down so the the edge of the cushion was in the small of her back. I moved so that our proximity was providing the optimal angle of attack. Her feet were place flat on the carpet as I planned on how to plant my stiff stalk in her garden of delights. I reached to guide the missile of my manhood to the silo of mom’s muff.

At first, I made partial exploratory incursions into the greasy grotto. Encountering no resistance nor reluctance, no recriminations or expressed regrets, I prodded further afield, deeper within that sanctuary – the temple of my goddess. At last, I made a long, strong stroke to bring me to be finally, completely socked to the root inside my moms’ pussy. Once at last back where I originated, I paused to let the impact and import of our carnal connection sink home to both of us. The length of my penis fit the measure of her cavity, its bulk encompassed by her casement. I could feel the clinging cunt clutch my cock enclosing it in a moist heated sheath. No other sensation had ever given me more a sense of completion, or such pure elation, as that penetration of my mother’s womb.

She pressed her body to me, the pliant pillows of her breasts pushed against my chest; the nipples, rubbery points that poked my pects. We clung to one another and our cheeks made contact, head to head. Our quick breaths in each other’s ear, but no words were spoken, only sighs came from our throats; moans of involuntary spasms, as our genitals did all the talking. The silent sign language of sex, save for the slapping of flesh, was communication enough, as mother and son began the dance of the double-backed beast. It was communion and sin, sacred made manifest in the profane, the spiritual in united bodies that celebrated together carnal cravings. This was the love we shared, we gave, we took, an exchange of the most ethereal; a consummation of concupiscence, a joining, melding, consecrated consanguinity! In that single moment, we became one.

Then with ever increasing tempo and intensity we had intercourse. God, how we fucked!! I moved, slid in her, she swung hips and glided on to me; the in and out of cock and cunt, the to and fro of penis and pudenda, our organs ground genital against genital in our orgiastic frenzy. I couldn’t get enough of the woman I held in my arms. She denied me nothing of herself. I plunged and plugged and stabbed and schtupped the vagina of my mother. She was not just an open hole but an active sheath, an engulfing and gripping-grabbing maw of raw lust. The feminine predator man-eater, savaging her prey before she feasted on it. Bang, bang, boff, bop, bump we went bouncing off one another at our crotches. Thrusting prick and stroking cock packing it all in, sucking cunt and oozing cooze taking it all up, as deep and hard pleased the soft and supple.

We screwed to make it last for the rest of our lives, as if there would never be another chance to do it with one another, as if the world was ending tomorrow. I made the most of this special and spectacular opportunity to show my love for mom. To let out my base desire for this beautiful lady who loved me unconditionally. She who joined in this sex act as willingly and wantonly as any woman ever could with a lewd and lusty man. Then, suddenly we were there on the brink, tottering on the edge of our peak, with more than enough momentum to carry us into the chasm of ecstasy. Instinctively we knew that both of us were about to cum. The spasms and climaxes overtook us like a giant wave rolling us in the ocean’s surf. Our shouts rang out, echoing off the walls, an operatic duet of squawks and whoops and wails, fading down to heart felt grunts and ragged whimpers.

I was in the throes of the contractions of my ejaculating erection; throbbing, pulsing, it squeezed my jism out in a great squirt of incredible intensity. I felt the zing in my asshole and the back of my neck electrify, my skull seemed to expand with pressure, while my dick grew another half inch and touched the very nubs of mother’s uterus as it released its flood of cream, the balls jumping in their sacks. Mom shuttered, I felt her gushing over my prick and balls as she released her tension in a paroxysm of bliss. Her fingers dug into my back and her arms seemed to be super strong as they hugged me, as if for dear life. She was perspiring profusely and sweat dripped down her face and a wet sheen coated her body. Then, mom leaned back a bit and our sticky torsos separated; she tossed back her head and laughed her surprise and delight at what had happened.

Strange as it may seem, that whole time we had been fucking we had not kissed. But now that we caught our breath and settled down to the afterglow and consideration of the aftermath of our royal rutting, the raunchy romp mother and son had had. We looked at each other and in mutual emotional attraction began to kiss, and French, and make lip locks and tangle our oral digits like squirming snakes. Now, we couldn’t get enough of each other’s mouths, they popped all over one another’s face, planting smooches on every square inch. We were murmuring “I love you” and “That was so good, the best!” “You made me cum so hard!” “Wow!!” “Wonderful” and all manner of donut-hole sweet nothings.

Finally mother said, “We were soo naughty! We were naughty, naughty, naughty!” Her smile faded and her expression became serious. “Your father can’t ever find out. No one must ever know. It’s just this one time. It can’t ever happen again. Promise that it will be our secret, and we won’t ever mentioned this between us either.” Her face softened, “I love you and I don’t regret what we did, but it’s impossible to continue, it has to stop here and now and that’s it. No more, alright?” Her eyebrows went high. “Promise mommy! From now on we have to be good, we mustn’t give into temptation,” a little shake of her head, “no matter how great the sex was. If you really love me you won’t ever make love to me again, as much as you want to have me. Okay, honey? I mean it, never ever again. Promise!!” And she kissed me hard.

What could I say to that? I loved her and I wasn’t thinking straight. I said, okay, and I promised what she asked and kissed her again. I loved her. She had just given me the fuck of a lifetime, the fulfillment of my long time fantasy. I could not deny her request. Her wish was my command. The next morning we pretended that it never had occurred. Life went back to a semblance of normality, though underneath our acting the memory of that hot action stirred emotions, our suppressed desires were roiling just beneath the surface. Then the evening of the third day, mother came to my room and sat on the edge of my bed.

“I want to kiss my kid’s cock . . . ” she said in a little soft voice.