Everything But the Rubber Ducky

Everything But the Rubber Ducky by The Bald clam 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 mother when I was ten years old. My mother 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 mother 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 mother 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 toilet 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 mother 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," mom 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 older I didn't want mom 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 mother 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 college 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 family and everything but I was ultimately happiest to see my mother. My father 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 family 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 mother 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 mother 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 mom 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?" mom 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 toilet and took out my hard cock, my hands shaking nervously. I aimed it into the toilet 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 breasts 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 toilet 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 mother 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 mother 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 breasts 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 cunt 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 cunt 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 mother 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 mother 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, sucking 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 cum in her right away. Gradually my penetrations picked up speed and I could feel mom 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 mother 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 spurt after spurt 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 mom released my head from her breasts. I slowly pulled my deflating cock from her soppy vagina 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 mother 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 mother cook. Our love-making session the previous night had left me not knowing what to do or say. I didn't know why my mother 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 mother 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?

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