Healing Warmth

Healing Warmth



[Mother encounters serious health problems; husband deserts her; will son save the day?]

[This sensitive story involves a woman going thru a grave health crisis that does not have a happy ending. If this is a problem, then we will see you next time; thanks.]

To ‘set the table’ for you, Mal my father was 49, an investment company owner. Sue my mother was 42, a housewife. Patricia (Pat) my Aunt was her twin sister, a spinster (unmarried.) I was 22.

I remember when I had just turned 18 as a high school senior. I had always dreamed of dating Heather, the head cheerleader for our team. I covered the team for the school paper and somehow managed to get a date. Through an unrepeatable series of lucky events, I had gotten the date, sweet-talked her into my house (I lived in a tiny bedroom detached from my parents’ home by the garage), and actually gotten her into the sack. It was a dream fulfilled.

Well, imagine if you will the blondest, bustiest, leggiest, sexiest dreamgirl…have that picture? Now multiply it by ten. THAT was in my bed. She was on her back, legs spread, pussy dripping. I climbed between those legs, as smooth and silky as a baby’s butt, and pushed my nine inch Mr. Johnson into the gates of heaven. So tight, so warm, so wet, so welcoming. For those few moments, I must have been the happiest man in the world. Being a strong, healthy, lithe, nubile, cheerleader, she gave as good as she got, our stomachs slapping together with amazing speed and frightening power. My balls tightened for the biggest splash in history. Just as I was rounding third for home, the lights came on!!! There was my!?!?!? father, asking what was going on here, in his house? I fell over and grabbed for the covers. Since there was no answer for that question, he glared and then left. Heather, the dreamgirl of everyman’s dream quickly dressed and demanded to be taken home; she had ‘never been so humiliated’ and never wanted to see me again.

I was suitably delighted. Then I heard that Patricia, mom’s sister, my Aunt, had noticed me taking the side entrance to my little place, with a guest. She wasn’t ‘cool about it’ and blew the whistle. After that moment, I never wanted to see or speak to her again.

Four years later:

Much had happened in four years. I had attended a good university and had taken a rarely offered dual major, allowing me to drive for a BA and work towards law also. As a result, I got my BA and was ABB in law (all but BAR test.) I got a nice job ‘clerking’ for a firm which was basically doing the real leg work on cases, with the partners coming in for the actual court appearance. I had had to move away from our Shaker Heights, Cleveland locale and move to Manhattan.

One day I got a call from Patricia of all people, my despised Aunt.

Pat: “Hello James, this is your Aunt Pat. Before you hang up, this call concerns your mom. It’s important. I was pledged not to tell you this; your mother didn’t want your career path to be interrupted or distracted. Your mom has been under-going chemo. I have helped her as much as I can. The thing is, your dad has not been supportive at all. It’s so bad there that I would appreciate it if you could see your way to flying home and meeting me at your mom’s for a Saturday get together. I will pay the ticket, taxis, anything; she needs you Jim…I need you.”

Her call left me thunderstruck. I had no idea that mom was ill, that dad had turned on her, or that I was needed back home. All of a sudden, my petty differences with Aunt Pat evaporated. I was dearly touched by her call and offer. I told her thanks but that I would pay my way. Thank goodness for Southwest Airlines or I’d have had to pay $1,200 for the roundtrip on short notice.

When I flew into Cleveland Aunt Pat (42 and still single, my mom’s twin, and just as beautiful) picked me up. I called her from the plane so she only had to wait 3 minutes by the curb. We got to my home in record time. As I came in, mom was surprised to see me. I was just as surprised to see how she had changed. I hadn’t seen mom since I left for college 4 years before. We spoke every Sunday at least, but I was always working when not in class. Mom actually looked better, having lost her middle age spread, regaining her fantastic 36-25-37 figure. But, I knew how this happened and it hit me hard…mom was wearing a wig which sort of looked like her old hair. Beneath the wig, mom was bald. Chemo is a hard regimen of treatment, relentless and merciless. I made sure I didn’t look at her hair and gave her the hug of her life.

So there we all were, my dad, 49 but looking 66, as bald as my mom, Pat, my Aunt and twin to my mom, and my beautiful mom. Neither my mom nor Pat had the heart to tell me, but even this small gathering of four was too much for my mom to handle by herself. Given that her husband was not the helpful type, Pat had to mardin escort pitch in.

Midway thru the meal, my dad started carrying on about his newly hired receptionist. He said mom had to look out and worry, this woman was young, leggy, and had long, healthy flowing hair. It was a thoughtless, even cruel, thing to say in the circumstance. It also was ironic in that he was not very ‘well covered’ up there either. Anyway, my mom was furious and flamboyantly removed her wig. Everyone was stunned.

Mal: “Put that wig back on, you freak. How dare you embarrass me in front of guests!” [He came up to her and splashed his cocktail in her face. Mom held her hand up so I wouldn’t get involved, and wiped her face with a napkin.]

Mal: “I am sick to death of living with a freak!! PUT ON THAT DAMN WIG NOW!!” [He slapped my helpless mom, hard. She held her hand up again, though a tear now dripped from her eye. Nothing in the world was keeping me out of this now!]

Almost knocking the table over, I stormed up from my chair, leaped towards him, and hit him with twice the power of any Mike Tyson punch. I was that mad. Well, he went back thru the doorway to the dining room, hitting the kitchen screen door before falling into a heap. He would be out for hours.

Me: “Mom, Pat, I want you to get whatever bags together that you will need. You will pack mom in everything that is important. I want mom out of here tonight and either staying with her sister or me. I would be very happy knowing she was safe, and that could only be with me. But you two talk it over while you are packing.”

To my surprise, they wordlessly went into motion, having me get down from the garage two big valises which would have to hold her clothes, memorabilia, perfume, etc. Pat took us to the airport, giving my mom a tearful send-off. As for she and I, I shook her hand coldly, thanking her for caring for my mom. The ice between us was still palpable.

On the plane, we were lucky enough to have no third person on that row, so we could talk. Mom, with all of her problems, worried about Pat. She was 42, like mom, but had never married.

Mom: “It’s such a pity; Pat is such a loving, beautiful person. She always had a problem dealing with men for some reason. I know the reason you have resented her. I know that I can’t change your mind about her. I just hope you know that your mom loves her sister as much as she loves you.” [Mom kissed me. I had never looked at my gorgeous mom as anything but the worn-out housewife that she appeared after all those years. We hadn’t kissed since our goodnight kisses when I was 11. Somehow, this kiss had more ‘moment’. It was important, and I kissed back, airplane or no airplane.]

We got to my small apartment in Manhattan. I could see the Chrysler building from my tiny terrace, but nothing else about the place was very impressive. It was only a one bedroom; I offered to sleep on the couch. That lasted from 11pm to 1am. I hated to admit it to myself: did I want to sleep with mom but only if it were in the dark so I couldn’t see? Mom did not sleep in the wig, after all.

Anyway, at about 1am, I heard her stirring in bed.

Me: “Mom are you awake?”

Mom: “I am sweetheart…if you are going to ask if you could have your bed back, the answer is yes. You have to go to work on Monday while I will just be lounging around here.”

Me: “Mom, I’m getting in on the other side [It was a double bed] but you are not getting up. I am going to sleep in the same bed with you, mother or not. It’s either that or you can hitchhike back to Ohio.” [She laughed, knowing I was joking. She let me climb in. Within minutes, I had pulled her to me.]

I kissed her, but in an almost desperate, clinging way. She kissed back with equal fervor. I reached beneath her two piece pajamas, opening the big buttons in front. She made no comment. I cupped her breast, stunned that it was so warm, soft, and plump. It felt like I was feeling up a Playboy playmate. I kissed and stroked both her perfect breasts before wandering down south. Eventually, her pajamas were nicely piled on the floor next to mine, with me caressing every square inch of her fantastic figure. Mom had been neglected by her self-centered husband. It had only gotten worse when she started treatments, at which point she only received abuse from him. No wonder then that mom moaned in orgasm when I suckled at her sensitive nipples and later when I fingered her ‘down there’.

Mom: “Sweetheart, this isn’t fair. You are doing so much for your broken down old mom but I haven’t done anything for you.”

Me: “Haven’t done anything for me? Well you were my mom, at least back there years ago. [She laughed.] Mother or not, the thing I would like for me would be to love you…I want to have sex with you, and only you. Please let me love you…God forgive me, but I want to have sex with you, my own mother.”

Mom cupped my balls. They were swollen mardin escort bayan with seed, weighted down so much that they drooped. She hefted them, each one the size of a small grapefruit. She knew that that was a lot of pent-up passion. She didn’t want to waste our first coupling until the perfect moment.

Mom: “Sweetheart, nothing would please me more than to make love to you. But, your old mom has been thru a lot. I need to rest. Tomorrow we can do that; is that okay?”

Me: “Well, I have to go to work, it being a Monday. But sure, that’s okay. We can make a night of it, do it properly. God, I never realized that I had all of these thoughts and desires about you. I realize that we have certain limitations; I just wish that we could have gotten together years before when our love flames could have burned white hot. I say this to make you happy—not sad. At this moment, I love you so much, I would trade anything I have or will ever have just to have the pleasure of getting you pregnant. I know the situation, but I wish we could join like that…I am sure that you would make only beautiful babies.”

Mom kissed me tearfully. Holding me tightly, she whispered: “Tomorrow.” We laid together in that bed, our bodies 100% in contact, face to face, tummy to tummy. I inserted my nine inch cock inside of her and she did not protest. There it remained all night, erect and proud. In the morning, my morning wood made me mount her. It was a work day and I couldn’t linger; if I had the time, I would have pumped her full of baby batter. But in New York, you are always late unless you are 30 minutes early, so I had to go.

For a workday, that Monday seemed to pass like a dream. It seemed like I reported on time at 9am. and was heading home at almost the same instant at 5pm. I brought an expensive take-out French dinner from a fine Manhattan two Michelin star eatery (only in New York do they have haute cuisine fast food.) In spite of my insistence that it was not necessary, mom wore her wig, making her look exactly as I remembered her. And she was gorgeous; perfect in figure, with her lovely face that held so much meaning to me.

We did the ‘dishes’ within seconds and I took my mom’s hand and headed to my bedroom. Among the few things mom brought she found a little baby doll nightgown that she had worn 20 years before. She came out, nervous of what I would think. Well, she looked just like a Playboy playmate when they did that ‘where are they now’ feature. Her figure was fantastic, her legs shapely, her feet smooth, sexy, perfect. She was a few pounds over her wedding weight, but just a few. My cock struck nine (inches) as soon as she emerged from the bathroom in that get-up. As little as she had on, it was more elaborate than my outfit; I wasn’t wearing anything under the sheets.

I opened the covers and mom slipped in. My anxious mouth sought out hers but she stunned me. She sat up in bed and reached into the nightstand.

Mom: “I know you are going to object; you are going to howl. That abusive SOB back in Cleveland told me he would only make it with me if he had on a blindfold. So I bought him one. Well, we never used it, because we never ‘did it’ again. I know this sounds kinky, but I always wondered what it would be like. Could you, this one time, indulge me?”

I worried that mom wanted me to wear that because her wig might come off. I wanted to protest, but I could see that she really wanted me to wear it. I would humor her with the blindfold this one time, but tomorrow the blindfold was history, wig or no wig.

I got on top of my beautiful mother. I hated to admit it, but it was a wild feeling and one that I recommend to others as a change of pace. With the blindfold on, I could feel her so much better and hear the passion better too. This was a great idea! With my big cock, I let it fall into her deft hands. She put it at the entrance, but I did nothing. She got the idea and used my mighty tool to caress her slavering pussy lips, tingle her ultra-sensitive vaginal walls, and rub raw every pubic inch down there. Finally, I was in all the way. She winced as I touched her innermost reaches, and later when I tapped against her cervix.

Mom: “Sweetheart, before you actually reward me with your precious gift of seed, please stop what you are doing and tell me.”

I was curious about that, but nonetheless stormed ahead. I pulled my nine inch pole all the way out and then plunged back in all the way. I did this for fifteen minutes before the pressure in my swollen balls was reaching the critical level.

Me: “Okay mom, I am close to popping, still wearing this silly mask. Look I told you that your wig or lack of wig doesn’t bother me. What do you want me to do?”

Mom: “Well, since you are close. I want you to turn over. I will get off the bed first to allow you to turn over, and then I will take you the rest of the way.”

That was a bit of a surprise, since escort mardin I thought that she had an energy deficiency given her treatments. Well, it was cool with me; I loved woman on top, more than any other position. Get’em, cowgirl!

She got off the bed (I guess; I was still blindfolded.) I turned over waiting for the hottest moment in my young life. Sure enough, back on board she came. Boy, she felt a bit different which must have been from being on top. Those boobs were still the same, those nipples worth sucking on. Big suckling nipples as if she had a baby to feed. She immediately got into it, slapping against me with a furious rhythm. Just when I thought she would tire she got even more frenetic, our bodies slapping together like someone clapping applause. It was hot.

My modest nine inch cock was poking, poking, poking, into the at-one-time fertile depths of my mother. Finally, my mom moaned and then shrieked in the really big ‘O’ orgasm…I just HAD to join her. I raised myself from the bed, pushing her still firm bum hard against me. My cockhead swelled, the tiny opening temporarily the size of a quarter. I was lodged deep inside of her, preparing to fill her unprotected and at-one-time incredibly fertile womb with my baby-making sperm. I proceeded to vent my pent-up passion, and my over-powering love and devotion into mom. I said–actually shouted, “yes, yes, YES!!!” as I kept shooting. My overfilled testes took minutes to empty that huge reservoir of love into my mom’s womb. When I was finished, there was not a single sperm left in those manly balloons; every single spermatozoa had been transferred into the waiting and receptive womb of my loving mother. There they might find there was nothing to do, but the simple transfer from manly testes to receptive womb was sheer ecstasy for the two of us.

As I finished, mom collapsed on top of me, kissing me lavishly. I had never had such pleasure, with so much meaning. I distinctly heard my loving mom say: “You can remove your blindfold dear; we are finished.”

As I removed it, I got the shock of my life. For, when my mom had gotten off of me so I could flip over, she hadn’t gotten back on board. She had walked off on beautiful bare tiptoes. Walking to the bed and on board was her twin sister, Pat. It was she that I had loved; it was she that I had inseminated.

Mom: “Before you get mad, this was all my idea. I had delayed you for one day so that I could fly Pat out here for just this occasion. Unlike me, Pat could easily bear children and was perfectly ‘timed’ for it. I wanted Pat to have a child, if she couldn’t have a marriage. Please don’t hate me or her for this.”

I actually went to tears. I grabbed Pat to me and kissed her fervently. I whispered in her ear: “Have my baby…please.” I then pulled mom over from her chair by the bed and kissed her too. Soon we all were in tears. I took Tuesday off from work (I had plenty of saved up vacation) so that the three of us could replicate Monday, from the catered meal to the all-night love session. I would spend the first half of our time making love to my mother and then finish up with loving and my powerful ejaculation deep inside my loving Aunt Pat and her incredibly fertile womb. The fact that she was an identical twin of my wonderful mother made it all the more perfect.

It was weird, sexy yet poignant, when I made love to my Aunt Pat in front of, and with the help from, my wonderful mom. She was determined that I would not only get Pat in the family way but have a relationship with her. Truth be known, if my wonderful mom told me to love anyone because it would make her happy, I would have. And so it transpired. At the encouragement of my mom, my Aunt Pat (who still had her maiden name, of course, never having married.) and I were wed.

We did it before she was showing, for appearances’ sake. After the ultra-sound told us it was a girl, we both instantly agreed to call her ‘Sue’ in honor of my beloved mother. We told my mother this, as she lay in her bed. It seemed to make her happy. The three of us held hands then…and she was gone. I hugged my new wife, incredibly sad, but incredibly happy. While I had come to my mother’s assistance, she somehow had figured out how to come to my assistance as well as her sister. We had lost my wonderful mom, but I had gained a beautiful wife that was identical to her, plus a child who I prayed would also be like her.

It was ironic that the very week of our loss, the final divorce settlement arrived. Having been scorned while in ill health, the divorce court looked favorably upon my mother and gave mom 75% of her husband’s million dollar estate. That would help us, trying to survive in Manhattan. Still, that wasn’t enough for my new wife Pat, so she unofficially and discretely hit twitter and Facebook with comments about the trial. It was public record but cast a pall over him. Soon enough, he was regarded as another Madoff and rendered bankrupt.

It was all so strange, losing my mother and yet living out my life with an identical copy of her. I couldn’t have been happier, nor could my wife Pat or our eventual family of four children. We were careful to inform all the children, but particularly our first daughter Sue, about her namesake. She would live on, having a happy long life with that memory.

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