Once you’ve crossed the line, there isn’t any problem. It takes a little bit of psychological adjustment and if you get that right, and you accept that you’re never going to be understood by anyone on the outside, then it just becomes a world within a world.
You know that most of the stuff that happens is ugly and dysfunctional and most probably non-consensual, but not all of it. And no-one wants to think that any of it is going on by choice, or even worse, to consider that it’s better than anything you’ll ever experience with anyone else.
But when I fuck my mother, when she takes my cock in her mouth, when she calls out to me to watch her frig herself with a dildo, it’s sex beyond the firewall. That’s when the fantasy of super-heated sex becomes my commonplace; all the purely animalistic instincts which are repressed or just partly expressed between regular couples blaze into life and there are no limits. We are of the same flesh and together we are unconscious of propriety. Whatever we want we take and give.
None of this would have happened if mother wasn’t hyper-sexual of course. She had a kind of mania for it and the doctors wanted her to take drugs, figuring there was a limit to how sexually fuelled a person should be. They reckoned she had gasoline dripping onto a fire that was already stoked too much. But dousing that fire seemed a crime against nature for her, and when I got to 13 and she could see I had sex on my mind -the hard ons and the squirming when I watched something hot on TV; the way I suddenly had to hide my body in the bathroom or getting dressed ’cause my dick was so stiff all the time- she just gave me the option. She just let me know if I wanted her I could have her, because she wanted me. And that’s how it started.
She was only 34; had me when she was 16. I sort of remember my dad, but he disappeared when I was six. Mom was pretty good at not just turning into a slut. She fucked more guys than I knew about, but she never just went bar-crawling, never left me alone. She met guys at work, or sized them up at the gas station, but they only ever arrived after I was asleep and she always made sure they were gone by morning. She got the sex she needed without me having to open the door to strangers or hear her stumble in drunk with some slob at 1am. I knew that shit was going on with some kids and their mothers. Hell, you only had to LOOK at some of the women in this town to know it was going on.
The first time. Mom just asked me one night if I wanted to watch a video, and I said what was it, and she sort of made this naughty giggle and shook the cassette. So she put it in the slot and that muzak started. Porno sax muzak. I’d seen plenty of movies at friends’ houses. They’d really made me burn white hot, but sitting on the couch with my mother watching Talk Dirty To Me part 2 -I was just electrified. It might have been one of those films Traci Lords made when she was underage but nobody knew… or at least they said they didn’t know. Mom thought Traci had the same kind of extreme uncontrollable lust which had defined her own life for so long. Later on Traci reckoned she was in a drug haze the whole time, but it sure looked like she was getting into it. Naturally my dick was straining within a few minutes, and I was trying to work out what mom was up to. Was this just some sort of sex education exercise? I just tried to be as cool as I could, sort of giggling nervously. Mom was talking, saying stuff like “Oh… look at that. Getting fucked from behind is so great. ” I still hadn’t experienced a conscious orgasm. I’d begun having wet dreams, so it was obvious to mom -who had to wash the sheets- I’d reached that point of pre-adult maturity, but without tutelage, I had no idea how to make myself come. When I played with my throbbing dick under the covers at night I simply wasn’t violent enough to push myself over the edge. Really giving my cock a hammering would have seemed dangerous. I just didn’t know what it took, and what I could take.
Anyway halfway through the movie Mom said; “Shit I can’t stand this. I have to get off.” And she got up and went into her bedroom and came back with a big purple dildo. I was boiling up and felt like I was almost floating. It was intoxication. The chemicals in my brain had turned me into a sex-drunk. Mom said. “It would really turn me on if you watched me fuck myself.”
I nodded, not really comprehending what was happening. It was as though I had entered the surreal sexual realms of the x rated movies -then moved forward again into a turbo-charged world of lust where the excitement of adolescent awakening had immediately collided with the ultimate taboo; and the greater the taboo, the more the sexual persona was fascinated with it.
Mom had taken her pants off while she was retrieving her toy. She sank into the soft leather of the couch, turning to face me and draping one leg over the back of the lounge. Her summer dress rode up and I was confronted with the shock of her nakedness. A glistening dark pink slash of flesh above which lay a triangle of coiled hair, far darker than the sandy blonde sash she was always wiping away from her face and collecting behind her ears.
She smiled at me reassuringly, then flicked on the button of the vibrator which immediately hummed alive. I’d seen dildos and vibrators in magazines but was fascinated that someone somewhere had designed and built this implement in the same way people built toasters or flashlights.
Mom impatiently lay the shaft of the toy against her genitals and gasped. The implement droned in a deeper tone as it came up against resistance. Mom’s eyes rolled as she smeared the device in the juices seeping from her cunt. Then she looked at me. The face I saw had adopted a kind of hunger I’d never seen. Mom’s eyes were glazed, her mouth half-open and panting. Her body was completely splayed but every few seconds it spasmed stiffly, arced away from the couch, and a moan would accompany the movement. Either that or words; “Oh…Jesus”, “Fuck…mmm…yeah…FUCK!”
When she began to fuck herself with the vibrator; the whole 8 inch shaft vanishing inside her, I could feel my cock twitching and dribbling pre-cum down my leg. Mom began to buck and it was obvious she was about to come. With a kind of panicked urgency she reached out to me and said “Here…here!” I slid closer to her and she grabbed my hand shoving it down the cleavage of her dress, under her bra and straight onto a taut nipple and a heaving breast. “Squeeze baby,” she whispered, and buried her head in the baggy mohair jumper I favored at the time. By now, the buzzing shaft was being plunged in and out of mom’s cunt as rapidly as she could manage, but she had another idea.
“You do it sweetheart,” she said taking my hand and moving it down between her legs. She guided my fist onto the end of the vibrator. “Shove it in and out as fast as you can.” I got down on my knees on the floor and mom twisted again so her feet were both on the floor on either side of me. She hooked her hands behind her head, and with a shaking hand I began to mechanically fuck her. Mom began to squeal and stomp one foot hard on the floor. “Yes! That’s it. Fuck mummy as hard as you can!” I gripped a leather cushion hard with my left hand as I thrust away with the vibrator, unknowingly punching mom’s clit at the apex of each deep penetration.
After about twenty seconds, as my arm approached the point of cramping mom came. She flung herself forward and clasped my shoulders and I could feel her whole body shudder, the transmission flowing from her cunt, her clitoris, her whole body, down her arms and fingers into my own body. For about twenty seconds she writhed in an ecstatic transport as I held onto the vibrator, rammed deep inside her, almost holding her back it seemed from leaping away from the couch to God knows where.
Eventually her bodily jolts ebbed, and she melted back into the couch. Still breathing heavily she stroked my hair and kept whispering “Oh my God….oh God.” I thought maybe that was the end of it all, but it was just the beginning.