OEDIPULSATION: THROBBING FOR MOM
Spasms of ecstasy, contractions of rapture, spurts of sperm – all for her!

By Oediplex 8==3~

The best spasms of pleasure when I masturbated are when I fantasized about my mom. Thinking about fucking mother makes my engorged member extra sensitive, and I cum with big loads of spume. Those jolts of jism shoot out harder for her than for any other female I could imagine. The cream literally jets out of my dick. You can visually observe the oscillations of my cock’s pulse from the pounding of my heart, the blood pressure in waves making my meat bob, throbbing from the passion I feel for her.

Those spasms of ecstasy, the tightening contractions of rapture when cumming, the special spurts of white gooey sperm that erupted and shot in the air; as I made love to mom in my mind, were the best orgasms I had – ever – until we actually did it. Yes, we did it; thanks to the great convulsive orgasms she inspired, and inadvertently witnessed one night. It might be as old a plot as that of the ancient Greek tale, but this was no tragedy. Oh, it had plenty of drama, and while not a comedy, had its humorous moments. But most of all, it is a love story.

Naturally, mothers and sons love one another, but that type is filial. Eros is an altogether different sort of relationship. Especially when relatives have relations, those experiences can be considerably intense, very heightened indeed!

You could say it was Snoop-doodle’s fault. Who was our Beagle/Poodle combo, curious and inquisitive as any pup, sticking his nose wherever he wanted. So it was that he nosed open my bedroom door one day, but as I was practicing my favorite form of self-pleasuring, he got no attention and wandered back out. Since I was engaged in important matters at hand, and knowing I was all alone in the house, I didn’t get up right then and shut my door again. My assumption was faulty.

So that incidental incident, of mom espying my esprit de erotic, which was erect as the Eiffel Tower, was not my fault. Nor, was she to blame either. And an ‘eye-full’ of my tower did she gawk at. She heard me call out her name loudly as my climax built, and (timed according to Murphy’s Law) as I was nearing release. Naturally, hearing me cry her name in a stressed tone caught her attention. She peeked in on her boy as a matter of course – the door was open. No youngster, but a youth all grown-up, who is flaunting and flogging the manhood of her dreams.

She had a secret yen for ‘big-meat’ as she and her sister liked to call them. Pop and bro qualified, hubby did not. Now she discovered that her son was a member of that ‘club’, the one for guys with extra girth and length. The ‘pussy was out of the bag’ on that, when unable to help herself, mom came into the bedroom and sat on my bed to watch the show.

She was no wallflower, but began to take off her blouse then and there. While I was still in shock from her entrance, I was drawn forward by her breast being bared, for she did not stop with the shirt, but continued to lose the bra. Those awesome nipples, like twin sunrises in the clouds, peered over the white cotton being lowered.

She plucked at both red nubs as I stroked my cock. The snake at my crotch was looking like a fat red fire-hydrant, ready to spout. I whimper out the syllable, “Mom!”, as my load ejaculated a geyser of cum in waves of clenching muscles, and jumping balls, and heaving hips. I perceive, in the dim intellect that remained in mind, after that unprecedented paroxysm, that mom had not had an orgasm, simply gotten topless as she watched me. So I boldly reached over between her legs and felt under her loose dress for her panties. Her crotch was soaked. I grabbed the elastic in back and pulled down.

Mom lifted her hips and helped, hooking her thumbs in the undies and wiggling out of the briefs. Simultaneously, her thighs opened and my hand, still dripping semen, dove for her center; to wriggle first one, then quickly a second digit as well, into her hole. They sawed and my thumb was doing metronome passes over her clitoris. Mother’s hips bucked hard as she was provided with an enormous release from the highly charged tension of the serendipitous moment. My palm was flooded with the deluge of her fluids washing down with her spasms.

Before I could say a word, Mom kissed me, a nice smush mouth smooch that lingered with a hint of tongue. “We’ll talk tomorrow – this is our secret – we’ll have more fun later on!” Then she dashed out to her own room and I was left stunned, dripping, happily surprised, and hopeful for more of the same shenanigans!

I confess to using Snoop-Doodle the next morning to gain admittance to mom’s bedroom. He will sniff out kibble and search for more. It’s a sort of game we’ve played for quite a while. The next morning, I popped a bit of doggie treat under her door; I cracked the knob a smidge. The pup pushes the door open, wanders in, finds the nibble, gobbles it and begins to hunt for more. I was clad in only my boxers as is my custom when it’s just mom and me in the place. I followed the dog in, making like I was trying to get him to leave and not disturb mom’s beauty sleep.

Not that the MILF of my heart needed any more natural adornment. Of course, my playing hero was what woke my queen-of-carnal-desires. Mom likes dad’s old dress shirts for nightgowns. Sometimes she wears panties underneath, sometimes not, I try to guess. It’s a sort of game we’ve played for quite a while. I can’t exactly sniff at her, like the hound has liberty to. Once in a while there is a flash of silky white or brown fuzz. Once some pink, I swear! The one she wore presently had but one button closed in front, and the divide of the flaps displays the fur of her feminine delta.

HOT SHIT!! Beaver shot! As if I didn’t all ready have reason for my solid prow of meat poking out of the fly; like a fucking puppet peeking its head through the curtain! Be it the sight of Snoop-Doodle’s wagging tail or my swaying lance, mom smiled. She indicated that I should join her in bed, lifting the sheets for me to slip in next to her. This was a ritual that we hadn’t shared since I was a small.

She gave the old signal, but I was now no longer a lad. Indeed, I was longer, and glad to have the opportunity to be intimate again, if that was what she had in mind. If not, I was certainly going to try to put some naughty ideas in her head. Like what she must have been thinking last night, when she gave me the full gander at her breasts while I jacked off. Like when she came in my hand. Those sorts of incestuous ideas, consanguine concepts, nasty notions about dirty deeds with her kid. If I could put those in her head, might I put something else in her tail?

To my relief, mom said, “I suppose you’ve come to have our little talk?” Further reassurance was the grip mom put on my hard-on, still a heat-seeking muscle, her thumb swirled the slick clear drip at the tip. My mother’s voice whispered in my ear with low and breathy tones – “You’re much bigger than your daddy; you’re even bigger than my daddy – and Bubba too! (So I discovered family jewels had been observed, perhaps fondled as well? As she was with mine right then.)

The pride of genetic virility blinded me to the question of where and when she acquired such statistics on her male relatives. Perhaps firsthand knowledge, as she was doing obviously with me, as she fisted my dick.

“Can I feel it when you blast-off? I love to see a man cum. I love the sensation of a guy’s member throbbing and shooting while I stroke him. Especially when it balloons-up, and spouts like a fire hose. Like when you came yesterday – looking at mommy’s tits. Did that help? MMmmm?”

I didn’t need any more hints. I scrambled to get my shorts off, thank god they weren’t jockeys! Mom laughed at my antics. She doffed her top at the same time and both items were flung to the side. My pants landed on Snoop-Doodle’s head and he exited with it cock-eyed on his ear.

Now we were naked and she resumed stroking my erection, while I returned the favor to her nipples with my fingers ‘working the dials’. “You didn’t answer my question yet. Can I see you squirt your jism? Can I hold it when you climax?”

“God, Yes! Mom, of course, all you have to is – yes! LIKE THAT!” I usually don’t have a hair trigger, but this was morning and I had a load of hormones. Mom got a load of cream on her tits. She laughed a trill of joy, for the orgasm of her boy. “Sorry . . .” I tried to wipe the goo off her pulchritude.

“Never mind,” she murmured, “Momma’s got better use for it.” She scooped it up on her finger and slurped the dollop of pearly spunk into her mouth, her lips sucking in an obvious seductive gesture. I didn’t just kiss her right then, I Frenched her. My mouth continued its assault on her by nibbling down to the nipples and providing advanced sucking, having been adept at suckling since I was an infant.

Then I was descending into paradise as mom’s pair of legs parted and my tongue began to part the folds seeking the pearl of pleasure. Discovering it evoked a gurgle of laughter from her throat, a lusty version of the trill of before. There is a wonderful way the female genitalia flesh swirls and flips, and even bounces, as cunnilingus is administered. The taste of mom is delicate, almost like a light olive oil (not virginal though!).

My eyes are memorizing the shape of her labia, my cheeks the feel of her fur; the length of her clitoris, the flavor of her flower are on imprinted on my tongue. Mother rolls her hips and bucks her tummy as my skill in licking ladies is demonstrated. Mom is convulsed with ecstasy and writhing with multiple orgasms; I use my weight and legs for leverage to hold her while I munch on her muff,

At last she subsides, the pleasure ebbs, the quiet time of peace and contentment stretches a small while. We kiss, as I scoot up and cuddle next to mom. Even though I’ve blown my wad once this morning, – well, it is morning and I am eighteen – I had another round loaded in the barrel. My cannon was primed from the excitement of having brought mom to a series of climaxes that guaranteed we were not retreating from our advances in intimacy.

OHH! YYEAHH!!! Mom gave the next volley of love for bat and balls by countering my move-up with her sliding-down, to my middle, making my lollypop her sucker. My nut-sack was tenderly massaged and she tickled that section of scrotum that gets extra sensitive during arousal. But her lips were skilled and her throat wide. Then, as I was passing into the final phase of our fun, as my spasms were gathering on the brink of jack hammering . . .

My eyes went wide with wonder as the woman with me put a digit up my wazzoo. This was no painus-in-the-anus, but her slender finger slipped in, up to the middle knuckle she prodded, withdrew half an inch then wormed in again seeking the prostate. That had a dramatic effect. Credit due, she swallowed the protein like a pro. Mom had both hands on my cock now with the tip plunging between lips, tongue adding follow through.

Once more the visceral vibrato of my instrument was happening. She was strumming me, the rhythmic pulsing of my dick thrumbed in pitch, rising like the teakettle’s whistle, ready to blow. Mom’s smile shown around her face, even as she stuffed it with my swelling organ. Then came the sweet release, the gush that comes from the whole butt, ass through piss-hole, the rush of semen as it burst out, shooting straight into her . . .

They say ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach‘; i.e. guys love those who cook for them. Which is why when we ‘bring home the bacon’, we also want our cave-mates to eat the ‘other kind of meat’. So is the way to a woman’s heart through her vagina, with cunnilingus? Eating works for both genders? Or, is oral dosage an avenue for access to the recesses of the feminine physique? Personally, I favor vaginal injection by ejaculation as the means to her end, and emotions. Then she is yours, body and soul.

And make no doubt – she owns you.

So when you are having a love affair with your mother, she is both your parent and girlfriend. What she can’t order you to do; she can seduce you into doing. However, the good news is that much of what she wants now is fucking her brains out. I was ready to do my mother’s bidding in that, except she had used up my current supply of spume. She kissed me and kicked me out of bed.

“Mow the lawn today and tonight I‘ll make a steak dinner. Would you like cheesecake for desert? “She spread her arms to indicate her charms. “Then maybe, you can score some grass and I’ll get me some beefcake for an evening treat!” (WHOA! WOW!! MOM does dope too! Way cool, my mom’s a stoner-MILF!) “I’m sure by this evening; you will have had enough time to refill your tank.”

Right that!! Hot damn! Tonight I finally get to fuck mom!!

Okay, so I cut the grass and hooked-up with a baggie of weed from a kid I knew in the neighborhood who deals a little pot. Mom had gone out shopping, and by when she returned I was showered and shaved. Dinner was very grown-up, wine and adult conversation, excellent food, mom even made pop-overs! Over dinner she told me how she and Aunt Beth had messed around with generously proportioned male members of the male members of her family.

Beth had banged Gramps, so mom did bro, and there was occasional mutual masturbation in varying combinations. Grandma never knew, or turned a blind eye, since she seemed to have had her sex drive dry up after three kids. Poor Grams, missed lots of great fun, here tell. At least mom was thrilled with what I had in my jeans from my maternal genes, and willing to resume her messing around with generously proportioned male members of the male members of her family.

After dinner we sat on the couch and toked up. Mom explained that she started in college and never quit, but had a harder time to acquire marijuana nowadays. She hadn’t felt comfortable asking me until I was legal. So now we sat and mom wanted to play a new game. It was a combination twenty-questions / strip poker / truth or dare thing; which being buzzed was hilarious. It had exceptions to every rule and was impossible to remember it the next morning – but OH! It was fun!!

Eventually we were totally naked and thoroughly high and completely turned-on. Mom wanted to get into my head about my lust for her and I was all too happy to share about my long standing desire for her. As evidenced by my long, standing upright, boner. I mean that solid hard – stretching the skin, ruddy helmeted, stout shafted erection; that wanted nothing more (or less) than the gaping pink flesh of my mother’s hole – that yearningly yawned open directly before my face.

Yeah . . . That hole . . . My penis . . . The moment was um? A pregnant pause?

Then mom grabbed my . . . . . . . hand.

And dragged me to the bedroom.

Seduction is swell, and has a place in romance. But there is just something about a good-old-fashion-fuck that makes the straight forward process of getting it on so exciting. Not that I didn’t have the presence of mind to admire the view as mom climbed on the mattress ahead of me, her derrière a delectable distraction. She turned and lay back, spread-eagle, a woman ready and willing to be sacrificed to the male spike aimed at her center.

The pink pussy looked tight and slick, it all but steamed. Now was the moment I was going to take her – there was no going back – mating was commenced. Face to face, my chest on her spongy tits, we kissed with lips, tongue, echoing the action at our loins. Both of us were wanting this wanton lust, the sinful, the crazy passion for our physical union. Pleasuring each other until the universe dissolved in a cosmic cum, the climax of our incremental incest. My cock made contact with her cunt.

The tissue parted, the underside of the tip skidded across the oiled groove and nosed in to the depression amidst the petals. In my mind’s eye I had seen this in my fantasies, hundreds of times. Now I looked past my belly-button and saw it for real. The warmth engulfed my dick-head, softly parting like a thick gel; mom’s vagina let me sink/slide (slink?) deeper inside her body. Now we were one, again, forever, and always, at least until we couldn’t cum any more.

Then we’d take a break.

But that wasn’t yet! As mom predicted, the tanks were topped off and the pounding was full throttle. This was the moment the T-H-R-O-B-B-I-N-G peaked, as it was meant to happen. The point that the big pulse, like a shock wave traveling from my peri-whats-iz down there south of my nuts, right through to the spurts of jism that synced with the jumping of my balls, was created for. The finest orgasm for a guy is accomplished with a greater than average volume of seminal fluid. I flooded her pussy, and there were three really good shots of the milky offering squeezed out.

Mom frothed as well, the sheets were sticky with the overflow. I lay on top of her, my chest heaving gasping for breath, mom too. I shifted back and gave mom a hand to sit up. I indicated that I wanted her to turn so I could bang her from the back. The rosy target of her quim was where I plugged in; this angle gave me even more depth it seemed. I really loved the way my testicles swung and bumped mom’s Mons. The slap-slap of the smacking flesh was a turn-on, and then mom began to moan, an even more erotic sound.

“Yess! Give mommy your big cock baby! Plant your seed in mother, give me a baby! I want it! NOWW!!” She pushed back in counter-move to my thrusts, my nuts were getting squished, but I was triggered to blast another dynamite stick. I locked in and had one almighty clench; the nubs of her womb welcomed my sperm. We seem to freeze for a moment, a statue, tribute of art to love and lust, then we collapsed into a tangle of limbs and groped to cuddle and kiss and call it a night.

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