At 24, I moved back home. I was struggling with depression that had cost me the job that I'd held for two years since graduating. Struggling badly with depression, the variety that keeps you in bed for two or three hours every morning after waking, lets you pick up by mid-afternoon, and has you in bed before midnight to repeat again. My parents had bought a new house. Well, my mom had bought the house after the separation agreement had been signed. She and dad were attempting to reconcile, though I wasn't sure how. He rose every morning around, having several months off from work, and worked all day on a paver patio he'd promised he would put in, going through maybe a dozen pairs of jeans in his effort to please her - she put huge stock in favors. If you did what she asked, she felt loved. If you refused or fell through too often, not that she would often accept a refusal gracefully, she felt hurt. The patio was for a guesthouse my mom had built in the place of a large shed, small but nice. Two small rooms and a bath with a four foot dividing wall between them. When the reconciliation failed, I wanted it but she had other plans. The upper level became her office and the lower level remained furnished as a bedroom. We quibbled and decided that I could have it in the evenings and she would work there during the day.

So I woke up every morning to her hand on my leg and her smiling, glancing down at my crotch. It was how it had been for years, since I was a teenager during summers. I didn't fantasize about her, though both of her sisters had been fair game when I was younger, but I'd had dreams. For years, her in her nightgown, riding me. Sometime her mounting me and as soon as I touched her wetness, waking up with wet boxer shorts. There would always be a moment of confusion afterward that I'd thrust aside. When I was younger, there was some inappropriateness between us. Nothing graphic, not that I know. I only remember her gripping me tightly from behind, her breasts pressed into my back, holding my nude form as we grew sweaty. I'd lie there and purr and breathe with her, falling into a slack mouthed haze, no more than seven years old. Then she'd rise and shower, her breasts peeling off my back. Her hands? I haven't the slightest clue. Touching me I'm sure, but I don't remember where or maybe I was too deep in her haze of wrongly expressed love to ever know.

She'd talk to me after she started work, as I lay in bed, summoning the energy to rise. I began touching myself. The first moan I let out . . . I was so timid that I had to bring myself to near orgasm to find the courage . . . she moaned back. And then I let myself cool off. Walking down to my level for a file, she turned to me and said, "I liked that," and kept moving. I didn't have the nerve to return to administrating to my penis and berated myself later in the day for it. A week passed, maybe more. She was working late one night and, on the edge of sleep, we began murmuring to each other. My hand moved into my boxers then, not caring, I wiggled on bed to pull the down. I masturbated mechanically and she fell silent, only responding with a deep, curt purr when I whimpered or whined, "mommy." When I shook and cried out in orgasm, I froze in fear. "That. Was more than I wanted," she said.

It became part of my morning ritual, masturbating as she listened. She'd walk by, smiling and nodding, for a file, on days when she wanted it. On days she didn't . . . I learned quickly not to disobey to avoid the inconveniences that surfaced when I did. Other than that, our relationship was seemingly normal, or as normal as it had ever been. We would talk, about dad at times. She would cry, I'd console her and work her through it for two hour stretches at times. Then came the day that she sat on the ottoman to my chair and leaned lower and lower, into my lap, struggling to speak. Before the moment passed, I unfastened my pants, pulling them down below my knees as she stared, agape. I had begun shaving my pubic hair without really knowing why, and maybe that's what caught her gaze as much as anything.

Taking my dick in my hand, I gently rubbed it as blood rushed in. "Suck my dick, Mommy?" I asked in a high-pitched, hesitant voice. Then in more confident whines, "Suck my dick? Please, Mommy, suck my dick? Suck my diiiiiick!!" Her head dropped into my lap and I pulled my hands out of the way, "Oh, God, Mommy, thank you so much." The words poured out of me rapidly. "I love you more than anything. I need you. Oh, God, I'll always need you. Need you so bad. Your mouth feels so good, Mommy. I need you so fucking bad. Please? Please? Suck my dick? Mommy?? I love it, I love you. I'll always love you. You're my mommy. You make me so happy." My hips began to buck. "You make me feel so fucking good!!

"Mommy?" I gasped, staring down at her. "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? We shouldn't. Please. Nooo. Fucking take my cock. Make me . . . nooo." My head began to loll from side to side in the chair. "Noo! No! No! Mommy, you know it makes me feel so loved and perfect and everything I need, more than I ever knew I wanted or thought I could . . .. noooo! Mommy, it's. We. God, it's just so fucking good and you shouldn't." I began to whine again, "You shouldn't! Mommy, it's making me so . . . no! No! No! No! I can't fucking love it. I can't, I don't wanna .. .. . I wanna cum, Mommy. " Guilt and panic stricken, I approached orgasm. "Make me, make me, make me, oh God yes, make me cum." For the first time, I watched her eyes. They were narrowed, tinged with malice, flushed with power. Rapidly, I spat, "I'll cum for you, Mommy! I'll cum for you, Mommy! I'll cum for you, Mommy! I LOVE MAKING LOVE TO YOUR MOTHERFUCKING, SONFUCKING LOVE!!!! YOUR MOUTH!! CUM! CUMMING!! MOMMY!! CUMMING FOR YOU!! I'M CUMMING FOR MY MOMMY!! I NEED YOU!!" And then I began to cum and cum, staring dazedly off into space, repeating again and again through orgasm and long after, in slowing, softening, quieter tones, "I'm cumming for you, Mommy. I'm cumming for you, Mommy. I'm cumming for you, Mommy."

She crawled up my body and cupped my chin. I opened my mouth for a kiss but instead she parted her lips and smeared mine with my cum. I licked them and started into her eyes, desperate with guilt and shock, my tongue out. She let a little cum drizzle down my tongue, which I swallowed, swallowing three times to drink it all? Eat it all? It was both at once. Sustenance, nourishment. Then her tongue appeared through her tightly clenched lips and I sucked it, sucked my cum, working at her lips with mine, with my tongue, as they spilled my and more of my seed that I had spilled for her back into my mouth. I would smile at her when I paused to swallow to enjoy the taste and, soon enough, we were kissing, the sweetness of my lips slowing the pressure and desperate passion of hers to a tone of "More. We want more."

"I want your cute little backside," she panted, words that could almost have heard from her in any context, but spoken with a husky harshness. Lifting herself off me, she moved to my dresser and pulled my dildo out of the middle drawer. She held it up and ran her tongue along it. "You too. Get in the shower for me, baby." She said the last word with a smile and ripple in her voice that sent an electric shock through me. I disrobed and moved into the bathroom. The shower was an extravagance, large with tile walls and floor, even a small ledge to sit on. The water only took seconds to heat but I stared into the mirror for minutes, watching my wide eyes until they narrowed. "This is you," I said. "This is real and this is you and this is what you want, what you wanted so badly since the day you were born, or the afternoons she played with you, or I don't know when. But every fucking time interest has surfaced in her, your desire has been there to meet it, and then some. So get in that shower, hose off, and get fucked in the ass by your own mother, by Mommy. You'll love every minute of it. Even if you don't, you'd regret it for the rest of your life otherwise.

I cleaned off quickly, then shampooed my hair. I wanted to leave the shampoo in for effect, working more and more of it into my long hair, not ponytail length, but long for a man. Then, staring at the wall of the shower, I began to massage my hairless dick and testicles, thinking of what just happened, the primal, atavistic need for each other, the horrible wrongness, but how badly I needed everything I hated accepting, needing Mommy, finding myself pulled back towards her over the years with ties that could never be broken and were now cementing.

I didn't hear the footsteps behind me, just a hand running down my exposed spine. I yelped. "You're going to need a good fuck. So tense." She leaned me forward and I placed my hands flat on the shower wall. "In here." It was almost a question. "Mommy's going to make it all better," she cooed in that throaty voice and pushed the bulbous head of a dildo - maybe mine - through the tight entrance to my love tunnel. I gasped in relief as the rubber dick slid home, past the band of rippling, ropy muscle to the soft, deep insides of her asshole, where only the pressure of the head could be felt as it sank deeply into me.

"I'm yours," I gasped.

"I know, baby. Hush."

"I've always been yours, I've always been yours, I've always been yours," I spat, my eyes tearing up.

"My sissy boy."


"We don't have to say it." She leaned as close to my ear as she could and whispered, "But we both know."

"I want to fuck, Mommy."

I could feel her smile as she began to buck her hips furiously, tearing that big cock of hers in and out of my ass, everything inside of which clamped and rippled and spasmed, causing me to grunt, gurgle, and moan, and stifle the things I wanted to say. Fucking my ass, her asshole that welcomed every thrust, every fresh penetration punctuated by a staccato prod at the already sore deepest point of my intestines her cock could reach, and luxuriated in each withdrawal. After stifling my ragged cries of pleasure, I settled into softer, high-pitched screeching, perfectly in time with her thrusts, then something popped inside me, an explosion of pleasure and my back door stopped resisting her invasion. It was as though a seizure had ended. Her thrusts elicited nothing from me and, sensing this, she slowed, muttering something with annoyance. I wiggled my ass though and she continued, and now I started grinding back against her.

"Oh yeah," I said in a voice closer to my own, deeper. "I like that cock. It's making me feel sooo good. Mommy, God, you have no idea. Do you like fucking my shitter? Do you know how needy it is, how it twitches and clenches on nothing in the middle of the day at certain thoughts? And now it's so full of mommy cock. Fuck your asshole, Mommy. Fuck it with that. Big. Hard. Cock. Of. Yours."

"Make love," she sighed. She pulled out of me and I turned around. Watching the water splatter over her dick, I decided to give her a little treat. I leaned down on all fours and kissed the top of her toes on her left foot, then slowly up the back of her calf, kissing, sucking, and nibbling, then up the front of her thigh. I ran my tongue over the head of her dick as I moved to the other leg and went down it the same way. When I reached her toe, without warning, I rose to my knees and engulfed her cock, my hand on her ass, my fingers search for her pussy. Fervently, I took her dick to the back of my throat again and again as fast as I could, tasting my asshole still on its velvety surface, trying not to scrape it with my teeth, playing with her pussy with one hand and massaging her flesh with the other. I looked up at her, my eyes feral and desperate. She had been watching me, but she looked away. I watched her face, as she steadied herself on the shower wall with one arm. She looked worried, her breath coming in pants that puffed her cheeks. I pulled my mouth back to the head and, sucking it, kissing it, running my tongue around it - the tip, the flat, as wanton as I could think to act, I did. Mommy looked down at me.

"I just want to make you cum," I said in a little boy voice. "I want you to be happy, Mommy. You're my mommy and I love you. But I looove you too. Mommy, I'd love you if you were a whore in the park. Or a trick." I smiled. "Your pussy needs to cum, doesn't it? Mommy, you need to cum so bad, so good." She started shaking and bent over, hand clutched to her face.

"Baby," she cried in a long whine, her voice again hers. I began pumping my mouth full of her cock again, watching her until moved her hand enough to meet my eyes. "Motherlover, cum. I do want. I need to cum so fucking bad," she whined in helplessness. "Ah, God. Ah, God! Ah, God! AH, GOD!" She began shaking and I looked up at her again. Watching Mommy going through the paroxysms of orgasm, that shameful release of so, so much, all I could think to do was pull myself off the dildo strapped to her waist and look into her eyes, though my right hand didn't leave her pussy.

"Mommy, I love you," I said in a softly, in the most genuine tone I think I've every spoken in. "I'll never love another woman like this, so utterly complete since birth to what we can't avoid now. Everything. You are the closest anyone has ever been to being my everything. And I'll always need you. Until I die."

She clasped a hand to her heart and rose and began to rise and fall with her breaths. "Baby, I love you too, but we can't." My still fingers moved in her pussy and I raised my eyebrows. "We can, but not . . . fuck. Not fucking."

"Come make love to me, Mommy. On the bed. We won't tonight. We won't fuck again. Make love to me ass, though? Mommy?" She nodded, smiling, hand once again over her eyes. Without drying I walked ahead of her to the bed.

"Wait, let Mommy make things nice and comfortable for you," she said. She took a headrest pillow from the top of the bed and placed it on its face on the middle of the bed, creating an incline. Then she took two regular pillows on top each other at the top. "I want to see you," she said with a smile. "Make yourself comfortable, just relax as much as you can. And I'll be back before you can even think about anything but me." She giggled and, with a dismissive wave of her hand, disappeared back into the bathroom.

I sank back into the bed, tossing my legs over the top of the headrest, lifting them up first to see if the angle was right. Footfalls caught my attention, footfalls and the strong smell of perfume. I watched mom as she moved about the room, lighting candles, wondering briefly if there was a reason at least a half dozen candles and an incense tray were scattered about. "Close your eyes," she said and I did. She had put on a black silk bra to hold in her large breasts and I played with that image in my mind until I felt the bed shift. I peeked. The room was bathed in a soft warm glow that revealed everything but still shrouded us in secure darkness. "Not yet," she reprimanded with a smile. I closed them again and began to tremble as the smell of her perfume intermingled with incense and anticipation overtook me. My legs were being lifted. "I don't want this to hurt baby, I promise."

"It'll be sooo worth it," I answered, rustling my head on the pillows, when the pause grew long enough that I knew she wanted me too.

"I hope so too. Mommy . . .." the dildo, her dick popped into me and my head shifted onto my right cheek on the pillows, my lips opening nearly silently into an O shape . . . "wants to make everything so happy for you, baby. Look when you're ready," she said, thrusting softly into me. I smiled and didn't, luxuriating in the warm haze evoked by everything, by my everything and what she was doing to me, my mommy. I glowed with warmth, exuding pleasure with low groans and whinnying yelps that would end with a catch in my throat, bated breath, and a shrieked word: "Mommy" "Fuck" "God" "Cock" "Yes" "Christ" I exuded pleasure with my very body, the encapsulation of my form from the rest of the world burring in a fuzzy glow of heady love and a restless, writhing, sensual bliss.

"Mommy?" I asked, softly, quietly. "Tell me you love me, please. I know you do. I just want to hear it so bad."

"Baby, oh baby. I could never live without you, I couldn't even imagine it. Your hot ass, your wonderful mind, your heart that's so full of love. Your cute, hot . . ." my legs press into me as she leaned forward and I opened my eyes to meet hers as she said, "Your cute, hot ass that I love filling with this big dick you gave me." She was smiling broadly. I smiled back.

"I love you too, Mommy. There's something I want to tell you. That time when you spanked me when I was nine? I really liked it, even then. I think about lying in your lap with my shaved boy dick between your legs while you spank me and play with my love hole till I cum. Well, I don't think about you. I never have, but you want it. I never knew how much you wanted it, to be that woman in my eyes, the woman that I loved, even in ways that I could never, ever have until now."

"Baby, boy do I love the sound of that. Your woman, your only woman."

"No one else will ever love me as much, not the way you do."

She had raised my legs higher and was screwing me with such force that I had lots of trouble writhing and grinding my ass in time with her. "I love you too, baby. I love you so much."

She lowered her head and, afraid of tears or anything else that might stop our screw, my screw, I pulled away and flipped over on all fours. "Take me, mommy. Take your big baby boy into your special place where bliss and love and pleasure drown out everything else. Come with me too," I finished as she impaled me afresh with one long stroke.

We switched positions twice more through sparse talk of love and erotic moments and memories, reassurances that it was all very right. She toyed with my dick some in between, which drove me wild. "Baby really screamed that time. Do you love your dick more than my asshole." I shook my head. "Some of both. That's a good boy. I'm sorry it can't get hard right now. Is this too rough?" She slapped her hips into my ass cheeks a dozen times, smoothly withdrawing from deep in my fuck tunnel and sliding back in every so more roughly. I shook my head, rapidly, eyes closed again. "It's all fucked out of you. I'm sorry," she said in genuinely sympathetic tones. "It'll be my little toy tonight then."

"Yes, Mommy."

She took the head of my boy cock between her fingers and began twisting it back and forth. "I love you, Mommy!" I promised in a muted shriek, bracing for the fuck-pleasure to mount again. My eyes rolled back in my head as my shrill cries grew to screams that capped with a high pitched, piercing wail the neighbors might have heard. The muscles in my home for my mommy's cock rippled and clenched at her dick uncontrollably but still she didn't stop and I began to writhe on the bed, bucking and thrashing in spastic jerks as she took me. "Mommy, my fucking hole, my boy pussy," I groaned, having lost all pretense of decorum. "Fuck it so good. Fuck my clingy shitter. God, you've got such a big one. I wish you could feel it, I wish you could feel it welcome you home. Each. Time. You. Fuck. Into. It. Oh, God! Give it to me hard, Mommy. Fuck me. Teach me to be a good little whore with my tight, tight ass. Drive your dick into my fuck grasping, shithole, my slutty, cock grasping fuck sheath. My ass, the squirming walls of my fuck tunnel, your toy. Your whore. Me. Mommy! Fuck me! FUCK ME! FUCK MY HORNY ASS! FUCK! MY! SLUT! HOLE! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"

She had me half on one straight arm and one elbow, one knee bent and flat on the bed and the other leg raised, her leg in position to catch it should I let it drop. Her arm curled around my torso to massage and toy with my boy clit and the other grasped the head rest shoulder rested on that we had switched ends of the bed to at some point. And God did she fuck me, deep and hard, sliding entirely out of the swollen entrance to her dick sheath and pushing back into its welcoming, grasping warmth, making me yelp at the small explosions of pain and discomfort. I could stop screaming. The nervousness that had remained clenched in my stomach all evening unwound and I felt her grasping me inside, tendrils that ran like nerves through my blood, swelling and possessing. "Love! I understand, Mommy! Love! I'll fucking love you until I die. Only you, only you can fuck me. You're my Mommy, my only Mommy ever, and I'll die before I let some cunt take, even touch this love, our love, what I always exactly entirely always needed, you, my everything!!"

"Not yet, baby," she said and slowed to a near halt, easing me onto my side. Holding me from behind, her dick inside me, slowly moving in a half thrusting, half grind, she asked, "Tell me about your first love."

My mind couldn't clear entirely. "It was unrequited. A friend of a . . . I mean a sister of a friend. She wasn't interested for long. I was a coward." Mommy began thrusting slow, hard, and deep. I winced a bit, sore. Confused too. "I was a coward and she lost interest and I kept it. For a long time."

"I know, baby. I remember that year." We were making love again, moving in rhythm together. My own hand moved to my dick.

"I'm sorry, Mommy."

"Oh, baby. For what?" Her voice was drowsy.

"For loving, wanting someone else like I want you."

"I won't want to deprive you of those things. Not forever," she said, a smile in her voice.

Strangely, my dick had grown hard. Wanting it, afraid, but wanting it so we would be complete, or complete what we had started, I turned and worked at the straps that fastened her dick to her. She helped a bit, wide-eyed with near terror but completely accepting. I felt the fear in me too. Her eyes closed the moment I slid inside her and then, turning her head off to the side, she grinned from ear to ear. I nervously watched her, wondering what she could possibly be feeling as I tortured myself inside what I had in recent weeks come to think of as home. When she opened her eyes, they gave her whole face such a giving, loving cast that my fear melted away and my body began to grow limp. Her hand lifted to touch my face, to cup my cheek tenderly and tears began to drip from my eyes as my home in her cradled my thrusting . . . what was it? A dick? Not that, not quite. It felt a part of her too, a long, deep connection that ran between us, feeding off everything her pussy could be drained of only it couldn't be. It was so overwhelming too much and, as starved as I was for her love, I couldn't even begin to draw all that she offered into me. I made love to Mommy for long minutes as she coaxed me with her hand to look into her eyes, wiping away my tears until I felt a great growing growl within me. "Bitch!" I cried and began to ejaculate. Everything inside me froze as I came inside her, my body throbbing the words "Oh God" with each twitch, interrupting the long, forlorn keening note that rang through me, that I sang even aloud: "No."

I collapsed on top of her. "Why couldn't you?" I asked plaintively, tears still in my voice.

"I can, baby. I always can." She said, rolling onto me onto my side and staring into my eyes. "I'm you're mommy and don't you forget that." I nodded with eager eyes, submissively. She unhooked her bra and began fondling one of her breasts. I immediately dove for it. "Shh. Baby, soft. They ache so for you." As mommy stroked my hair and cooed how good a boy I was, I calmed and found something of the rhythm I knew as a child, cradling her nipple with my tongue and softly slurping. Switching to the other breast, I lost myself in her. My entire world lay in my arms, or me in its. I began to drift off as she purred and stroked my hair. I woke alone in the dark, the candles out but light coming from the computer screen.

"Are you working?" I asked hesitantly.

"No, more taken by a whim. Come here, look." I walked over to behind her chair. It was a site for cross dressers. She clicked on the "view cart" button and I saw two pairs or red fishnet stockings, a matching red garter belt, a silk baby doll nightie that slit open at the breast line and fell down in a V-shape lined with lace. "I thought the gloves were a bit much, but if you want to try . . ." she let the sentence hang. The gloves were past elbow length. "And then this." She clicked another tab and the Macy's site came up, displaying a scarlet red dress with a large black ribbon around the waist that tied to a bow in the back. "My little present," she said with a smile. "We'll figure out something for shoes. I figure I can find some cute ballet slippers for home. I don't want you to have to learn to walk in heels."

"For home? You mean?"

She laughed. "I was thinking WalMart at 1am. 3am the first time, if you absolutely have to. Do it for mommy, as a favor."

I knew better than to refuse. "Just don't make me blow some strange man behind the store at 3am."

"Only if you want to, dear. Only if you want to. I love you. Do you remember what I said when you were a little boy? Well, twenty year ago? `I love you from the moon and back a million billion times, and from that fence to that fence.' The wide yard. You remember."

"I love you too, Mommy. Please stop fucking with my mind," I said, retreating to the bed again.

"Every last bit of it will be fun or we won't do it. I promise."

"Do you need me, really need me?"

"More than you will ever know, baby." She shut off the computer and returned to bed. We kissed, for the first time really, long and tender, passionate at times, beautifully expressive of so much. When we broke it, she rubbed her nose back and forth against the tip of mine. "Baby?" she asked, lifting the sheet up to reveal her breasted again. I didn't wake till morning this time, her arms still loosely around me.

"Mommy," I said, very softly. "I swear to Christ, I'll always love you, even if I hurt you, even if you lose your heart and it breaks against mine, I'll always love you and be there for you when it matters, when it really matters. Always. Forever."