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Everything But the Rubber Ducky
Everything But the Rubber Ducky
by The Bald
She was fifty-three. She was thirty pounds over-
weight. She was my mother. She was my ultimate desire.
I first realized I wanted to sleep with my when
I was ten years old. My wasn't a drop-dead
gorgeous woman, but she was very comfortable with her
body. She wasn't an exhibitionist by any means, but
bathroom doors were never locked when she was bathing
or using the toilet. She never minded if one of her
children needed to use the bathroom when she was in
the tub; it just didn't bother her.
On this one particular day when I was ten, my
was indeed lying in the bathtub, soaking her then
forty year-old body. Arriving home from school, I ran
into the house and straight for the bathroom. I had,
and still do have, an unusually small bladder, so I
wasted no time unzipping my pants as I barged into the
bathroom. Nearly having my pre-teen cock in my hand, I
was in for quite an eyeful when I saw my in all
her glory sprawled out in the tub.
"Oh, Mom, I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling my face
turn bright red. As many times as this happened, it
never failed to embarrass me at least a little bit. I
started to turn around and exit the room when she
stopped me.
"It's fine, Martin. Do what you need to do," she
pleaded.
Reluctantly, I moved towards the and pulled
down my pants and underwear far enough to relieve
myself. As I did this, I glanced in the wall mirror
opposite the bathtub. I saw my absent-mindedly
squeezing water from a washcloth all over her body.
She would occasionally splash water over her
pleasantly abundant breasts.
I studied my mother's body. She wasn't much more than
5'4" and maybe 125 or 130 pounds. At the time, she was
really still in pretty good shape, having just a
slight stomach. Her face was pretty, very Midwestern,
which was where she was from. She had brown, slightly
curly, shoulder-length hair that was damp from the
bathwater. The real highlight of her body, though, was
the immaculately groomed mound of hair above what I
knew to be her vagina. She epitomized everything that
woman was to me at that time.
As my mind regained its awareness, I noticed my dick
getting erect. Having just recently discovered
"boners", I again could feel my face redden. And I
could not for the life of me urinate. I now
concentrated on trying to relieve myself. I heard my
mother, behind me, still splashing herself with water.
I was still unable to go.
I put my hard dick back in my pants as gently as
possible and flushed the toilet, trying to give the
impression that I had been successful. I washed my
hands quickly and glanced once more into the mirror at
my mother. My dick grew even larger as I left the
bathroom.
"Thanks Mom," I said as I exited.
"That's okay," replied, continuing her relaxing
bath.
Nothing similar to that experience ever happened
again. My mother's habits never changed, but mine did.
As I got I didn't want catching me ogle her
with my eyes. And I ultimately knew it would be wrong
to do so. But this all changed more than a dozen years
later.
--------------------
Now at 53, my had put on some weight over the
last several years. I wouldn't at all call her fat,
but she was "thick". Her hips, breasts, thighs and
stomach had all gotten wider. Her hair now had streaks
of gray in it and her face had acquired a few more
lines.
I, myself, had graduated from and entered
graduate school, pursuing a Masters Degree in Eastern
Philosophy (quite practical, I know). Towards the end
of the summer between my first and second years in
grad school, I went back home for one of my nephews'
baptisms. It was nice to see all of my and
everything but I was ultimately happiest to see my
mother. My had passed away five years before
and, although my siblings were still around town, I
worried that she was lonely. Her primary focus in life
had always been and now she was living in the
house all by herself.
By the time the baptism and the subsequent activities
were over, it was nine o'clock at night. I accompanied
my back to the house where I spent my
childhood. It would be just the two of us in the house
for the duration of my stay and that was perfectly
acceptable with me. My told me she was going to
take a bath before she went to bed. This immediately
conjured up images in my head of that one fateful day
when I was ten and I got erect.
As I unpacked in my room, I could hear start the
bath. The sound of water suddenly gave me the urge to
urinate. A thought entered my mind. I wondered if my
mother would still be as casual as she once was about
sharing bathrooms. I figured that no one would be the
worse if I gave it a shot.
I walked out of my room and to the bathroom door. I
knocked.
"Yes Martin?" answered.
It was a gamble, but I responded, "I'm real sorry, but
I was just wondering if I could sneak in and relieve
myself right quick like?"
I succeeded: "The door's open," she said.
I opened the door and it was like I was ten again. I
saw my nude mother, once again, lying in the bathtub.
Her body had changed but the effect she had on me was
the same.
"I'm sorry. I'll be quick," I told her.
She seemingly ignored me. I walked to the and
took out my hard cock, my hands shaking nervously. I
aimed it into the and nearly strained myself
trying to piss. As I tried to urinate, I looked into
that well-positioned mirror and saw my mother. Her
eyes were closed, her body resting. I saw her stomach
rise up and down and her jiggle slightly as
she breathed in and out.
Like my earlier experience, I decided to give up and
fake my urination. I gingerly placed my dick back in
my pants, flushed the and proceeded to wash my
hands. I was about to leave the room when a streak of
boldness hit me. I walked to the bathtub and sat down
on the edge. I knew my must have known I was
right there, but she did not react. She just laid
there with her eyes shut.
My eyes flew over her body. Just like I remembered,
plus 30 or so pounds distributed nicely. Since my
father's passing, my apparently hadn't been
keeping up with her grooming as well, though. My
mother's pubic hair was no longer immaculately
groomed. The once small mound of hair had spread to
twice the mass it was before. And it looked glorious
on her body.
As I look back on it now, I have no idea what could
have been running through my mind, but something
possessed me to venture further. With my hands still
nervously shaking, I reached out towards my mother's
breasts and slowly started to caress them, fondling
the two beauties gently. I looked at my mother's face
for some kind of reaction: delight, disgust, fury,
something, anything...but no reaction. I wasn't
absolutely sure she wasn't sleeping.
At least there wasn't any resistance at this point, so
I started moving my right hand slowly down her body. I
continued groping her with my left hand and I
bent forward and lightly kissed one of her nipples,
nearly falling in the tub in the process. As I did
that, I thought I heard a slight moan slip from my
mother's mouth. My right hand continued towards her
cunt, only stopping to stroke her bushy mound for a
moment.
I slowly stroked the outside of my mother's opening. I
stuck my middle finger into her and let her close
around it as I probed inside her. It felt so warm and
smooth and so...right. Imagining my dick where my
finger was, I nearly came. After a few minutes of
this, I pulled my finger out, hearing for certain a
moan from my mother.
I stood up from the bathtub and quickly disrobed. I
reached down at my mother's legs and lifted them as I
slid in the bathtub under them. Letting her legs rest
on my shoulders, I bent forward and kissed my mother's
delicious all over. Poking my tongue at her
opening, I was finally allowed access into her body. I
darted my tongue in and out of her repeatedly, tasting
and inhaling her juices. I could hear consistent sighs
escape from my mother's mouth and her body was
rhythmically reacting to my oral ministrations.
Through this all, I was impressed with myself for not
coming but now I needed that release. Fearing I might
not enjoy myself fully screwing my in the
bathtub, I got out of the tub. I reached into the tub
below her body and started to lift her out of the tub
and into my arms. I finally saw my mother's eyes open
and a smile slowly revealed itself on her face. Still,
though, she remained speechless.
My was heavier than I had expected, but, with
her arms around my neck, I managed to carry her into
my room and onto the bed. I laid her on her back and
spread her legs. I then moved to hover above her, my
arms bracing myself against the bed. Our eyes met. I
could tell she wanted all of this as much as I did. I
kissed her passionately, on her lower lip and
then entering her mouth with my tongue. She kissed me
back, but the rest of her body remained almost limp.
I reached down to my jutting erection and guided it
towards her cunt. I teased her with the tip of my dick
for a moment before thrusting myself into her. I met
with little resistance and I had to hold still for a
minute for fear of spurting my in her right away.
Gradually my penetrations picked up speed and I could
feel bend her knees and shift them upwards to
better position herself for me. All the while I
continued to kiss my mom's face and neck.
As I was about ready to come, my started to
thrust her hips back at me, almost violently, and I
knew she must be nearing orgasm as well. Several
thrusts later, I felt after of semen
evacuate my body and fill my mother's cunt. She moaned
loudly and, finally using her hands, aggressively
pulled my head into her breasts. After what seemed
like several minutes, I stopped coming and
released my head from her breasts. I slowly pulled my
deflating cock from her soppy and let the rest
of my body collapse on my mother. But I didn't move my
head. I just let it lay there in between my mother's
breasts as she started to stroke my hair with her
hand.
That was the last I could remember from the previous
night, as I woke up the next morning alone in my bed.
I could hear my cooking in the kitchen. I got
up out of bed, put some clothes on and walked to the
kitchen.
"Good morning, Mom," I said, almost cautiously.
"Did you sleep well Martin?" she replied.
"Uh, yes," I said, "thank you very much."
I could not detect anything in her voice or her
demeanor that was any different than usual. I sat down
at the breakfast table and watched my cook. Our
love-making session the previous night had left me not
knowing what to do or say. I didn't know why my
had let me have my way with her. I decided to play it
cool and let her broach the subject. She never did.
I left home later that afternoon and never once did
Mom act like anything strange had happened that
weekend. By the way she acted I wasn't even entirely
sure she remembered anything from the night before. We
hugged each other goodbye like we always did, nothing
sexual, and I walked out of the house.
This happened three months ago and it still consumes
my every thought. I want to make love to my
again and I hope if we are alone with each other
again, I will be able to summon enough courage to make
my move. Or, even better, maybe she will make the
first move next time.
THE END?