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A Night Away From the RV Ch2


A Night Away From the R.V. (Ch. 2)
by The Bald clam
Mom casually tore off a few sheets of toilet paper and
proceeded to wipe herself clean. Even in my tired,
dazed state, I couldn't help but notice the aroma from
the toilet that was spreading throughout the bathroom.
Suddenly nauseous from the smell and the slow
realization of the previous several minutes' acts, I
jumped up from the floor and stumbled towards my
bedroom, leaving my mother sitting on the toilet.
Before entering my room, I took a quick glance at Ed,
still passed out on the couch.

Closing the door and collapsing on my bed, the room
darkened by the night outside, my head started to spin
as I felt my heart pounding hard inside my body. I
didn't even know where to begin to focus my thoughts,
my own world forever changed from the day before. I
lost track of time as synapses sparked throughout me.
Then, jolting me back to my new reality, there was a
knock on my door.

"Uh, yes," I answered nervously.

"Honey," replied my mother from the other side of the
door, "the pizza guy is here and I don't have any
money to pay him." For not the first time that
evening, I was almost flabbergasted by my mom's
ability to cut to the chase, ignoring the more
prominent issues at hand. Nevertheless, I thought,
the pizza guy did indeed need to be paid.

I got up from my bed and walked to the door, my legs
wobbly and my hands shaky as I reached for the
doorknob and opened it up. My mother, dressed once
again, was at the door. She greeted me with a
surprisingly un-insinuating smile, dulled by her
still-glazed eyes. As I passed her, heading towards
the door to my apartment to pay the pizza guy, I
thought perhaps our way of dealing with our earlier
actions would simply be to say nothing of them. After
all, we did not see each other very often and were not
especially close anymore. Yes, I thought, the right
mode of action would be to pretend nothing happened--
say nothing of, well, the blowjob she gave me.

"Seventeen fifty five, man," the awkward young man
with my pizza told me as I approached the door.

Giving him a twenty, "Keep the change," I said. Then,
after handing me the pizza, he walked away, neglecting
to thank me for the tip. On my way back to the living
room, I walked through the kitchen, setting the pizza
on the table. About ready to invite my mother into
the kitchen, I once again noticed her absence. I
looked to the bathroom, but the door was open and the
light turned off; she wasn't in there. Then I looked
to my bedroom. I thought I could see her bare, two
weeks' worth of stubble, slightly plump legs on my
bed. I moved towards my room slowly, nervousness
infiltrating my stomach. As I reached the doorway, I
saw my mother, completely naked, head propped up by a
few pillows with her legs slightly spread and arched.
She just stared at me.

I stood there, in the doorway, for a moment, having
decided conversation was not the strong point of the
relationship my mother and I had with each other. She
was unlike any woman I ever had fantasies about
before. She wasn't anywhere near the supermodels in
my fantasies, or my fianc‚ for that matter. She was
plump--there's no other way to put it--she had some
rolls on her belly and her legs and arms were thick.
And she wasn't exactly clean-looking. She had hairy
armpits, as I had discovered before, and the
aforementioned stubble on her legs and, the most
shocking part, the most massive bush growing around
her cunt, nearly reaching her belly button. The
carpet certainly matched the drapes, as her pubic hair
was graced with the graying hairs that sprinkled her
hair on her head. Though I had caught a glimpse of it
earlier in the bathroom, having her spread out
completely nude on my bed really awakened me to just
how glorious a bush it really was. Yet, again, it
looked as though she maybe hadn't washed for awhile.
The hair, from my vantage point then, looked almost
matted down in places, perhaps courtesy of Ed
adventures to her nether regions. Never did anything
close to resembling my mother's appearance enter my
erotic fantasies, but then, as before, my dick was
hard as a rock.

After what must have been minutes just ogling her
body, my eyes returned to her face where they met with
her eyes once again. Still simply gazing at me, she
finally lowered them to her crotch. As I followed
them, I saw her spread her legs more and then look
back at me. Wordless, she held out her arms to me.
In seconds, I had all of my clothes off again, my
erection jutting out from my body. I walked quickly
to my mother, her arms still outstretched and fell on
to her. As she held me to her, I began to kiss her
lips, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. I wanted
to enter her very badly but, but the softness of her
body, minus her somewhat scratchy legs, was too much
for me to neglect; I had put my lips and tongue on
every part of her. She responded in moans to various
degrees, but mostly she just caressed the back of my
body as I ventured my way down her own body.

Scooting myself further down the bed and as I neared
her crotch, I, of course, ran into her massive mound
of pubic hair. I ran my nose and mouth through it,
taking in her scent. My previous suspicions about Ed
being responsible for some of the bushy mess were
correct--I distinctly smelled and felt the stiffness
of dry cum in her bush. Instead of being appalled,
though, like my logic told me to be, I became even
more aroused, smelling numerous other aromas, too,
that on any other day would have made me sick.
Running my tongue down the rest of her to her pussy,
it finally entered her which, upon contact, made her
thrust her hips violently upward, nearly making me
bite my own tongue. I lapped aggressively at her
cunt, tasting indescribable juices mixed with urine,
sweat and God knows what else. She became wetter and
wetter by the moment, her juices coating my chin and
cheeks, and continued moaning louder and louder,
slamming my face into her with her hands. Finally,
she came, her spasmodic body and breathing slowing
down to a more restful mode.

As she was catching her breath, I did the same, slowly
licking her bush up and down--almost cat-like--
cleansing her of her own juices and mess. While doing
this, I had a moment of inspiration. Raising my to
look in her eyes, I smiled, as did she. Then I slowly
lifted her legs, my hands grabbing her by the thighs,
and folded them towards her stomach. In that
position, I looked down at her pale, fleshy ass and in
between her somewhat hairy butt cheeks. Taking my
non-verbal cue, she held her own legs to herself and I
dove my face in between her ass cheeks, spreading them
with my hands. There were smells, some reminiscent of
those just an hour or so earlier, but I didn't care.
I felt depraved; there was nothing I wanted to do more
at that time than lick and eat out my own mother's
ass. As my tongue darted in and around her sphincter,
my mother actually screamed, surely waking any
sleeping neighbors, I thought, but apparently not Ed.
Her body shook. For I don't know how long, I was a
mad man, using my oral skills to the best of my
ability to please my mom. Up and down the crevice of
her ass, tasting, surely, her remnant shit and
whatever else may have come out of that orifice.
Finally, exhausted, I let up, her screaming and
shaking coming to an end, and I collapsed at the foot
of the bed.

We were both breathing extremely heavy. In a more
rational state of mind, I got up and closed the
bedroom door, hoping to at least drown out a bit any
future noises that could awaken Ed, though I took a
quick peek at him and wasn't even sure if he was still
alive as he laid there on the couch. I looked at my
mom as I returned to the bed and for the first time
since I saw her naked on my bed, she spoke.

"Fuck me," she said quietly, her voice a bit unsteady
from her still-heavy breathing.

Climbing on top of her, my dick slid into her cunt
nicely. She didn't feel like any of the number of
twenty- or thirty-somethings I had fucked before.
They always felt so fragile under me when I was inside
them. Mom's cunt fit around me so perfectly I nearly
came upon entrance. Having given birth to four kids
and fucked however many guys, I had expected her to be
so loose. She wasn't tight by any means, but she
really knew how to use her cunt, slowly, warmly
milking my cock as I stroked inside of her.
Admittedly tired from my oral services, as surely was
she, we took our fucking nice and slow. I leisurely
kissed her upper body as I rhythmically pumped her, my
hands caressing, alternately, her breasts or her face.
She held on to my ass, pushing me into her,
occasionally slipping one of her fingers in between my
cheeks and into my hole, an incredibly erotic
sensation that nearly triggered an orgasm each time
she did it.

I came twice in her. Momentarily feeling spent after
shooting my wad the first time, my cock deflated in
her, almost plopping out, but her cunt lips grabbed
the head of my cock and refused to let me leave,
quickly encouraging another erection as I slid deep
back into her cum-filled pussy. We must have screwed
in this manner for an hour and a half, a strange,
somehow beautiful, wordless fuck. After I came the
second time, I pulled out of her and laid down next to
her. Holding her plump body to my own, the warmth it
exuded quickly put me to sleep.

I awoke the next morning alone. At first thinking it
had all been a dream, though that theory was quickly
put to rest as the soreness of my dick and the fuck
scent of the room came to my attention. I got out of
bed, putting on a robe and went to the living room.
The only sign of my mom or Ed was the empty beer cans.
I looked around the apartment a little longer, though
it's not too big, and all I found was the uneaten
pizza from the night before. Then, I noticed a
message on the answering machine. Pushing the button,
it was my mom's voice:

"Thanks for letting us stay last night, honey. We
left so early we didn't want to wake you up. I'll
talk to you soon. Bye."

I've talked to my mom since that night a few times,
but never does the topic of our fucking come up. It's
something I would certainly like to partake in again
should the opportunity arise, but, I guess, the way we
have simply chosen to deal with those events is simply
to ignore them when we speak. However, for me, it has
become impossible to make love to my fianc‚ without
imagining that it is my mother below or on top of me.



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