Giving Mom a Hand



[Warning: In this triangle, father and son tussle after father and mother have falling out; bad feelings ensue, son and mother justly united.]


It wasn’t my fault; I mean, you don’t choose where you live before you’re 18. For my part, I had to co-exist with my parents, which blessedly included my delightful mom but cursedly included her ‘old man’, my father.

My mother was everything a boy could ask for in a mom, being helpful, loving, and supportive. She saved ‘my bacon’ as you will soon see. We had the most innocent of relationships.

Even though I had started noticing women years ago, it never occurred to me that my own mom was also a woman. As I turned 18, mom was 40, a five foot two, hundred pound, vivacious (dyed) blond, with sparking blue eyes, sharp little nose, Hollywood dazzling smile, and a slim, well proportioned body, with plump breasts and shapely legs. Her slender ankles and smooth, sexy feet completed the picture. It was just as well I didn’t notice her, or I might well have become obsessed with her.

Her ‘old man’ was already bald and graying at 50. He had had a variety of jobs he had bounced around, but at 50, general employment jobs start getting rarer. He pretty much depended upon my gorgeous mother and her success at real estate sales. More and more, he would spend time either moping at home or going to the local ‘watering hole’ to get plastered. Funny thing, though. He became more and more obsessed about keeping mom tied down (to him), fearful that he might have to get out there and fend for himself.

One night he was drinking up a storm with his drinking buddy, Arnie. He told my dad (Mal) that I was probably ‘doing’ my mom when he wasn’t around! (Untrue, we never even kissed once). He based this strictly on what Mal told him during one of their drinking binges—that my high school weightlifting class had quietly transformed me from young wimp to young stud, bristling with broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Arnie pushed his finger into my old man’s flabby gut, joking that he couldn’t cut it in bed with mom anymore, now could he?? That was true, as he had become totally impotent as his job fortunes declined, his alcohol consumption rose, and his hair seemed to desert him. After hearing all of this, Mal decided that he had to eliminate my gorgeous loving mom…that if he was losing her (to me especially), he would rather no one else have her.

That night he had to pick up mom at a model home she was working out of. Her car was in the repair shop. He was already tanked up on four Heineken’s and two Bud’s. My beautiful mom had to open the creaky door of the Ford Galaxy (it looked like a police car because that was what it had been) and wiggle her fine behind in.

He drunkenly muttered that she didn’t have to belt herself in; it was a short trip home. Thank God she ignored him. When he went off the road, hitting the hedge near the roadside (short of the huge oak he was aiming at that would definitely have ruined mom’s day), the air bag prevented mom from having the slightest of injuries except for a bit of whiplash and a few cuts from the airbag. She got out safely, only to see that he had not escaped. As smoke gathered under the hood, she saw the flames jump. For some years he had been a real problem to deal with. Nonetheless, this was an emergency. The OnStar monitor in the car had already called for help, but she had to do something now! She fumbled with the door and got it open just as a tongue of flame scorched her delicate hands. With injured hands, she still pulled him out to safety.

Mom months later figured out that the accident was no mistake. At the time, she blamed it on gross negligence on his part, exacerbated by driving while drunk. He was cited for the offense, not his first. He would have to serve six months in jail, but his attorney got that suspended somehow.

Meanwhile Mom had to work. Her hands were worked on; they would recover 100% of their functions with only the slightest of discoloration. However, in the interim, she could not cook, clean, or even dress herself. She, quite correctly, blamed her old man for her injuries. He also did not valiantly step forward, effusive in his remorse, offering to help out now. No, he said that he would be too busy looking for a job to ‘help out’ in that way, and couldn’t be bothered to assist. So, I was drafted.

That first morning I would never forget. I had been told to be in mom’s room at 8am sharp. She had to be at work at 9am sharp, which had to allow for 30 minutes commuting. So, there I was at 8am sharp. He was right there too, on the other side of the king-sized bed.

Just then, my mom’s nose twitched like in Bewitched as the alarm sounded. She rose up to stretch, the covers fell back, and I had my first glimpse of mom in a nightgown. I had never so much as looked at xslot giriş a Playboy in my time. Today, though, 14 days past my 18th birthday, I saw my mom’s boobs and they could’ve been in a Playboy centerfold! She bent down to grab the covers to get out, which briefly gave me a view inside mom’s nightie. We’re talking nipples and all. As he looked me over suspiciously, I could barely conceal under my cotton gym shorts my growing ‘interest in mom’. The prospect of helping her out now kind of appealed to me.

Mom opened the bed covers and her nightgown only went down to her perfect behind. Her bikini wax smooth thighs and showgirl legs were revealed as she swung herself out of bed. Her hands were swathed in white gauze and I had to help her up. Her perfect little smooth feet with fire engine red painted toes hit the cool terrazzo tile. Meanwhile, her ‘old man’ was still there…glaring.

I ran to the bathroom and started drawing her tub. Our water pressure was ungodly and the tub filled in five minutes. Meanwhile, she showed me the lacy underthings I had to select from her lingerie drawer, plus the revealing dress. It was all laid out on her dresser, from the sexy slide shoes to her big cupped Maidenform bra, the label showing 36D.

The tub was ready now and I waited for mom to come into the bathroom. He still watched, still glaring, disbelieving this scenario as he saw it in the mirror.

Mom came in, and then waited for my assistance. I had to lift the nightgown from her perfect body and help her ease into the bath, lest she slip. Though the water was warm, the cool air in the bathroom made mom’s sexy brown nipples pop and get angry, throbbing outwards like she was still nursing me.

You talk about weird; here the useless unemployed husband who had caused her injuries was still in bed, watching with 100% attention via the mirror in the bathroom at this odd passion play. I for my part was lovingly caring for my gorgeous mom, with whom I had had not the slightest untoward relationship…until now. Since the mirror did not extend over the bath, so he could not see us, I felt a bit freer. I playfully put the back of my hand across the throbbing nipples of my super-sexy mother. She just as playfully slapped the hand away. However, as I shyly retreated, she hit my hand with her bandaged one. She looked into my eyes, for the first time. Risking falling in there myself, I bent over the tub and kissed my beautiful mom. As we were motionless and quiet, he was curious and finally got his ass out of bed.

He looked in and blew up, screaming that mom was a cheating tramp and that he was going to show her…right now. As he pushed me away and lunged at her, I grabbed him. Mom was terrified, but I was strong enough to hold both his weak, flailing arms in one of my wrists. I pushed him to the bathroom floor, inches from mom. As he kneeled there before me, his back to the tub, a bully finally getting his just reward, his wrists held by my right hand, I flexed my left arm. That weightlifting class in high school did do the trick. As mom watched in increasing excitement, I flexed my young left arm, a 24 inch bulging bicep emerging. The writing was on the wall; he saw his doom as that mountain of manhood and virility arose on my arm, signifying a changing of the guard.

I told him: “You better face it, you old useless bastard. There’s a new ‘man of the house’ and it’s me! I’m younger than you, taller than you, and STRONGER than you. If you ever so much as threaten mom again, you will be serving out that suspended sentence, six feet under. As it is, mom had the right to tell the judge if you violated your parole, and you just did. I’m calling the court. So while you will be helping your roommates in county lockup to dress, I will be helping my beautiful mother. I guess it’ll all work out in the end.”

Sure enough, I brought mom the wireless phone, she called the bailiff of the court and her old man was picked up 1 hour later.

Mom called in sick to work. She stopped having me dress her until he had been picked up and carted off for that 180 day term in jail.

I asked her if we should resume with dressing.

She said that we would, but first I had to close my eyes because she had not given me a gift for my 18th birthday and she had to get it out.

I dutifully closed my eyes.

She finally said: “Okay, sweetheart, here’s your gift!”

You can imagine my shock when I saw my gorgeous mom, centered on her marital bed, a thin line of pillows propping her up. Did I mention she was NUDE, my mom NUDE…for me!? For the first time, my cock erected to its full manly ten inches.

I mounted mom, briefly rising up above her to flex my muscles, expressing the manly conquest that I felt. She grabbed my powerful love tool, bending it with difficulty with her injured hands. She actually couldn’t get it in, so I gently pushed her aside and did it myself. She moaned in pleasure as I pushed inside. She closed her eyes, xslot bracing for a selfish few minutes of action, a premature come of a few drops, and a quick departure. She confused me with her old man, I guess.

I surprised her by bending over her and lightly brushing her ruby lips with mine, my tongue just penetrating her mouth and touching her teeth. I bent over her right ear, lightly swirling my tongue in her ear, then kissing her forehead. At this point, her eyes were glued shut as she awaited the sensual delights that this young fervent lover of hers was bestowing upon her.

Instead of selfishly plunging into mom, I actually pulled my gigantic ten inch phallus back, using the large, rough, uncut head to tantalize the now slavering lips of the entrance. I wanted her all important clitoris to turn her engines on, and I succeeded. Mom’s eyes were teary, her mouth wet, her other lips moist also. I then put the cock inside, but only to swirl it around the circumference, letting her feel a real man for once, tingling every pubic inch. Pushing ever deeper, I used my girth size to stimulate the vaginal walls, making her moan, whimper, then shudder in her first orgasm ever caused by a man. My powerful manhood finally was pushed in with power and love; I bottomed out with my cockhead aimed squarely at her cervix. This was all mom could take.

Mom’s eyes popped open. She said: “Young man, just what ARE your intentions!”

I was stunned; had she just been tolerating my assault? Had I made a series of blunders? Was I about to join her old man in ‘stir’? I stammered: “What do you mean, mom, I thought I was communicating how beautiful, how sexy, how much you represent love to me…”

Mom said: “I said what are your INTENTIONS,, not what you are doing. I know what you are doing, but why? Is this just playing around, or are you trying to bond with me, husband and wife….or breed me, in an attempt to get me ‘with child’? Which is it? I have to know NOW or this ends NOW!”

I didn’t know what to say; I hadn’t thought about it myself. Well, I took the supreme risk and told mom exactly how I felt, to hell with the consequences!

I said: “Mom, I’d have to say this is all three. I am playing with you, getting to know you, your beautiful body, and especially how to give you pleasure. But, this is also important work, as I would love to bond with you, to somehow become your man, even your husband. I know I could outdo that other ‘old man’. You know that I’m younger, bigger, taller, stronger, healthier, and a much better lover. Finally, as to getting you ‘with child’, I never thought of you in that way. But, here, now, having felt your warmth, breathed in your warm breath, caressed your perfection, drunk in your beauty, I want so much to get you pregnant!! Mom, please, please, PLEASE HAVE MY BABY! There is nothing more important to me right now than to put you in the family way, to get you pregnant. When he gets out of that fleabag jail, I want to pick him up with you in the front seat of that car. And when we get home and you get out, he will have the horrifying (to him) sight of you sporting a swollen belly. And in that beautiful swollen belly, you will be carrying my child. When that baby kicks, I will know it’s my baby. When the doctor holds it until it makes that incredible first sound, I will know that THAT is my child, not your old man’s! God, I will be so proud to escort you around, having everyone know that I was the one that put a baby in this gorgeous woman. When you put that baby to breast, it will pull with its mouth and slap with its tongue, drawing your warm, sweet, breastmilk into its little belly, giving it nourishment. After the baby has sated his hunger, you will put it to bed, allowing me to share in the delicious mother’s milk. It will be the final token, the ultimate sign that I became the man of the house; I assumed the duties, including making the babies! I will be so damn proud, that my manhood, my superior muscles, bigger cock, and more powerful testes, were too much man for him. Survival of the fittest; it was just a matter of time before I took over, asserting my superiority. Now, I would have the perfect woman (you, mom) to have, to hold, to love, and to breed. So, my intentions?? My ultimate intention is to marry you, and start our own family.”

Mom rose up from the bed of pillows, kissing my lips, a single tear in her eye.

I responded by pushing her back down, lips locked. I then grabbed her firm behind in my powerful hands, clutching her desperately to me. With the head of my cock aimed squarely at the cervix opening, the tiny slit in that uncut head dilated to the size of a screwdriver handle. Just then, wave after wave of sperm laden semen was emitted by that powerful tool. Five, six, and finally nine lengthy shots of potent seed were sent by my virile swollen testes. They went from the size of small grapefruit back down to medium peaches as my huge load of babymaking sperm was transferred lovingly and purposefully from man to woman. That tsunami of babybatter arrived with the expressed intention of getting my own mother knocked up…by me.

We slept that night, our first night together as man and wife, united as only man and woman can be united. My proud ten inch manhood never went down that night; I could stay inside mom as we slept, tummy to tummy, on our sides on what was her and the old man’s marital bed.

At about 4:30 am, we were both awakened by what seemed to be a flash. Living in Florida, where summer nights had lightening almost continuously, that was nothing odd. Little did we know, coincidentally only of course, that mom had conceived at 4:30 am that very morning…

What happened next was almost anti-climactic. Mom found a calendar in his dresser drawer, which had the date of her car accident circled. It had the notation, “get even with that two-timing bitch today!” in red. Mom was shocked that he had sunk to the level of buying insurance on her life, secretly, some seven months before, and then staging an accident. We were lucky that he was drunk, thank God, which ruined his steering ability, having them bounce harmlessly off a hedgerow. That was pure providence. Besides her anger at him, the calendar was from the insurance company that he had. We had no other way of knowing about them. This would come in handy.

Six weeks later, we had quite a night. First of all, mom let me perform a home pregnancy test on her…I had been pestering her to let me do it for a solid week. I shouted in joy when the indicator was blue…I had done it, the ultimate, getting my very own loving mom pregnant…she was having my baby, and she would give birth.

It was the height of irony that as soon as I saw that I had gotten my mom pregnant, I had the overpowering urge to mate with her, to, yes, get her pregnant. She was as amused that I would have a drive to breed when she was already pregnant. Well, I ripped off her little green house robe, tore off her pink peignoir, and flung myself atop of her, mounting mom.

She knew enough about men to know that I could not be stopped or sidetracked. She just told me to be quick.

Normally, I would’ve been offended, but I was so fucking turned on by the baby in the oven that my rod was steel hard. She was red hot too. I soon got into a rhythm; our stomachs slapped together, making that hollow sound you hear when you are thumping a watermelon. My balls swayed manfully in the sac, which tightly pulled up as the great moment arrived. Finally, my ten inch babymaker was stuffed in as far as it would go, completely engulfing her fertilized womb. Once again, the small slit widened incredibly and a gusher of potent seed was propelled with tremendous force. Apparently, my superman unit down there wasn’t concerned whether mom was pregnant or not, it just knew how to operate at one level: full power. After this brief interlude, we lay together, enjoying the moment.

Things got even better when she opened the mail, seeing that her request for a summary judgment divorce was granted. At my suggestion, she also got to return legally to her maiden name.

We both looked at the other envelope. It was from a ‘sky country’ state, with welcome (actually, howdy pardner…) offers. I kissed mom, whispering to her that we were going to move to that state where they didn’t know us at all. Once she got a driver’s license, with the maiden name per her court divorce papers, we could go to the county court. With a light beard and some conservative clothes, they would believe I was only 5 years her junior. So, then we could apply to get married and, God willing, we would get that license.

I don’t have to tell you, absolutely everything we planned worked. Soon we were out under that big Sky country expanse, the night sky so beautiful, and the stars finally restored to their proper glory, sparkling and scattered across the clear black sky.

Talking about the stars, I did something foolish on line. You hear about the people trying to get in touch with you. Well, I typed in my name and lo and behold. That insurance company from whom he had purchased the policy on mom was looking for me or mom. Legally, they had to. You see, they refused to just issue a policy on mom, so he had had to buy a policy on himself too. We learned that he had gotten out of the slammer on time, only to really do the town red. The highway patrolman said there were 9 empty Coors’s cans on the floor of the passenger side where he had thrown them. It seems that that oak tree that he tried to hit before was still there; this time he wasn’t trying to hit it, but it just happened. Well, his policy covered his life, whatever the circumstance, and we received $1 million, ironically the same amount he had intended to secure for himself when mom and that oak tree met.

Well, I guess his little plan worked out in the end, for us at least. I got to help bathe and dress my gorgeous mom. I took over as man of the house. He was sent to jail for reckless driving, DWI, etc. Later, he was released but unfortunately returned to taste testing beer, one six pack at a time. He had a mishap in his car, managing to miss that darned hedge he hit before, and almost missing the huge oak tree next to it.

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