How to Eat an Elephant Ch. 11

Our Moms thought they were ever so clever. They had weekly lunches to gossip about our love affairs, and that's what it was - love affairs - and to talk about which Mothers and Sons they would try to bring into the group. And let's be honest here. The group was Sons and Moms who were fucking each other. I don't know if they were trying to hide their weekly lunch get-togethers from us, but they didn't talk about them much with us. When I was brought into the group there was a general understanding that what we were doing, or in my case, wanting to do, was something that had to remain an absolute secret. Oh, sure, we each knew what was going on with the others, but we were bound to secrecy among us. It was like a "Mutual Assured Destruction" pact. If anyone had talked out of school we all would be ruined, so no one talked out of school. Besides, it's not something that comes up in conversation that often. "Oh, say. I'm fucking my Mother. It's pretty great." Yeah, that's just not something you should say as a conversation starter. If there's a lull in a conversation, better to talk about the weather, or sports, or anything, except that you're in a sexual relationship with your Mom.

I was brought into the group by my buddy, Matt. His Mom, Susan, and my Mom, Anne, were close friends and, as a result, Matt and I were friends. Matt knew I had a thing for his Mom. Who wouldn't? She was one of those redheads who just takes your breath away. In my experience, redheads are either stone beautiful, or plug ugly, with no in-between. Susan was one of the stone beautiful ones. Matt had a thing for my Mom, too. If you look up "Soccer Mom" on Wikipedia, you might find a photo of my Mom, she's so stereotypical. She's a tall brunette who's going to gray naturally and although she's putting on some weight as she gets older, I think it's pretty well-distributed.

I can remember the first time Matt and I talked about our Moms. Our families were having a pool party at our house. After the hamburgers, Susan and Mom went into Mom's bedroom to change into their swimming suits. Matt and I, without having talked about it, lurked in the den so we could see them when they came out. We didn't say what we were doing, it was just by mutual understanding. This was several years ago and we were horny teen-agers, so anything could turn us on. Both Mom and Susan wore modest middle-aged style swimming suits when they came out of the bedroom, and they were giggling at something. Mom had on a one-piece, and Susan had a two-piece suit. Matt and I sat there with our mouths open. Susan stopped and looked at us, and said something like, "Close your mouths, boys. It's just your old Moms," and then they walked outside, still giggling.

I said to Matt, "God, your Mom is hot."

"Yeah, so is yours, Ryan. Her butt is something dreams are made of."

And that's how it started. From that moment, it seems like, our conversations about our Moms became more graphic each time. We tried to come up with plans for how we could seduce them, as if a teen-aged boy could ever seduce an older Mom of his friend. Whether it was possible or not, though, we would get so turned on by our talks that we couldn't stand it. Looking back, it was funny. We'd talk about them and then, one by one, we'd have a sudden urge to use the bathroom. We never talked about what we were doing in the bathroom, but for my part I know I must have flushed a few billion sperm down the toilet.

I'll admit it, I always wanted to fuck my Mom. It didn't matter what she was wearing around the house, to me she was always beautiful and sexy. There was one time, and maybe this is how we changed our focus to our own Moms, when I saw Mom in her panties and a tee shirt. She had run to the kitchen in the morning to start the coffee for her and Dad, and I was already up and getting ready for school. Matt was right. Mom had an ass to kill for. I couldn't wait to tell Matt about it.

"You won't believe what I saw this morning. I caught Mom in the kitchen, and she just had on panties and a tee shirt. You're right about her butt."

"Whoa. Could you see it? What were the panties like?"

"Just regular panties, but they were almost see-thru, and I could see her butt, I think. She didn't have a bra on, either, and her nipples were standing out."

Matt was entranced. "God, Ryan. I'd love to get my hand on her butt. You think she'd let me?"

"If anybody's hand is going to be on that butt, it's going to be mine. You've got Susan. Your hands should be on that red-haired butt."

Matt moaned. "I know, I know. You don't think I've thought about it?"

Normal teen-aged conversation, right? From that moment, though, we had acknowledged we wanted to fuck our own Moms. Oh, I'd still talk about Susan and Matt would still talk about Mom, but there was a tacit understanding that what we really wanted was our own Moms.

When we went away to college, we'd still get together with the old gang on breaks. We were careful not to talk about our Mothers in front of the other guys, but when Matt and I would be alone, you could be sure that topic would come up. As we got older, both of us were a little guilty that we still harbored those desires. I mean, at some point you're supposed to grow beyond that, right? But we didn't. I know I didn't. My desire to get Mom in bed festered like a boil. There were times when I was consumed by it, and there were times when it was in my mental background, but it was always there.

Usually, the times when it would come to the forefront was when I was in my dorm room alone and jacking off. Sure, there was the occasional coed who would occupy my fantasies, but Mom was always in there somewhere. That girl in my calculus class might start my jerk-off fantasy, but somehow it was always Mom who finished it. I can't tell you the number of times I would call home, late at night, with my dick in my hand. I'd talk to Mom, slowly jerking off, and that made it even hotter. She had no idea I had my dick in my hand while I was talking to her.

After graduating and getting a job, I guess I matured a bit. I still wanted Mom, but it was like a pot on the back burner. It was always simmering, but didn't come to a boil anymore. I guess I realized some things are unobtainable and have to remain in the realm of dreams. Yes, I still dreamed about Mom occasionally, but that's all it was - a dream.

All this is to give you background for what happened a couple of months ago. I was home for vacation, and Matt called me one afternoon. "Hey, Ryan. A bunch of us are going to O'Malleys to watch the basketball game. You wanna come and hang out with us?"

O'Malleys was our local watering hole. From the time we could drink legally, that's where we'd hang out. We thought it made us grown up, having our own bar. It was a great place. They had separate rooms with big screen TVs, so each group could watch what they wanted.

"Sure. Who's going to be there?"

"Probably Jim, Bill, Chris, and Sammy. Maybe Andy will be there. You remember him? Point guard, a couple of years ahead of us?"

"Yeah. What time? Game starts at three, I think."

"Three will be good, or maybe a little before that. See you there."

I got tied up in traffic and the game had already started when I got there. I went from room to room, and finally found our group. The rooms were great. They were set up like dens, with couches and easy chairs, and the guys were settled in with their beers. Somebody had smuggled in a couple of bags of Doritos that were being passed around.

"There he is. I told you he'd come," said Matt. All the other guys raised their beers to me. Matt already had one waiting for me, so I toasted them in return and sat in an easy chair next to Matt. We were already down ten points and it looked like another blowout in progress, so there wasn't a lot of interest in the game. We were talking in small groups, and Matt, Jim, and I caught up on what we had been doing. It was kind of poignant. When we were all younger, we had some hell-raising times at O'Malleys. Now we were in danger of becoming our fathers, talking about grass sod and such. At least we weren't to the point where each of us would describe the route he took to get there, with arguments about which route was better.

Matt leaned over to me. "So how is the beautiful Anne doing?"

"She's fine. She's started yoga classes, so we're constantly bombarded with the joys and benefits of yoga. She seems to like it, so I guess it's okay."

"She still hot?"

That kind of took me by surprise. Matt and I had discussed our Moms in intimate detail, but only between the two of us. Now Matt was talking about her in front of Jim. I didn't want to seem like a pervert, so I tried to deflect him. "Oh, she's the same. She's letting her hair gray naturally, and I think it looks good on her."

Matt took the hint, and we talked about something else. As the beer flowed, the conversations got more raucous. In a lull in our conversation I heard someone say, "She gives the best blowjob I've ever had. I guess because it's her, maybe, but it still takes my breath away." My ears perked up. Who doesn't like hearing about a good blowjob? I couldn't tell who had said it and when I looked back at Matt, he was smiling.

"Wonder who they're talking about?," he said.

"Dunno, but I'd like to get in on it. I'm in a dry spell."

Jim had gone for another beer so Matt leaned over and whispered, "You ever make any progress with Anne? Don't try to tell me you don't still want that."

I blushed, I guess, because I did still want that. Couldn't have it, of course, but I still wanted it. "Some things you want, you just can't have. I guess understanding that is part of growing up. To answer your question, though, yeah. She's still hot. Maybe hotter than she was."

"Same with me, bro," Matt said. "Mom is still the hottest redhead I've ever seen."

Laughing, I said to him, "So you tapping that?" I expected the same kind of answer I had given him. You can imagine my shock when he answered.

"Yep."

I spewed my beer. "Sure you are, in your dreams. Asshole."

He didn't answer directly, but asked me again, "You still want Anne?"

I thought I'd play along, since he seemed to be having fun with this. "Oh, yeah. You know I do. She's put on a little extra weight, and it's gone right to her ass. Drives me crazy."

Matt looked at me. "That's all I needed to hear. You remember when you gave me your Packers jersey?"

"Yeah. I loved that jersey. But you wanted it, and you were my best friend. You still got it?"

"Sure do. I know I owe you for that, so I'm going to give you an even better gift. I'm going to give you something you will remember the rest of your life."

I looked around. I didn't see anything he could give me. I did notice that conversation among the other groups had died down, and everyone seemed to be trying to watch us out of the corners of their eyes. I wondered what was going on, then noticed it was halftime. That's why people had stopped talking. I was glad we were talking about the jersey, though, so no one would hear me talking about fucking my Mom. "So where is it? Parked outside? You get me that Porshe I always wanted?"

"Better than that, my friend. Better than that."

I didn't know where this was going, so I laughed. Matt didn't laugh.

He put his hand on my arm and whispered, "What if I told you that you can get Anne in bed? What if I told you it's not only possible, but can be pretty easy to do if you go about it right?"

The other guys were all focused on the TV, where the second half had just started. "I'm listening," I whispered back.

"You ready to give it a try?"

"I dunno. First, it's impossible. Second, we're just starting to get along better, and I don't want to piss her off. Third, I don't want to get my ass shot off by the old man." I laughed, but what I said was true. It would be impossible, and it would be risky. I continued, "Better for some things to just stay in dreams, you know."

"And if there was minimal risk?"

"Minimal risk? Then yeah, I'd give it a try."

Matt stood up, clapped his hands, and shouted, "He's in!"

"What the fuck, Dude?" I had no idea what Matt was doing, but everyone in the room cheered and looked at me.

Jim was back with beers for us. "Here's a life lesson for you. How do you eat an elephant?"

Oh, now I got it. This was some sort of joke, and Matt was giving me the lead up to it. I groaned loudly. "Yeah, like I don't get enough life lesson lectures from Mom and Dad. OK, give it to me."

"You eat an elephant a bite at a time. Little bites, but by the time you're done you ate the whole elephant and it didn't even know until it was too late."

I laughed. I was a little confused by where this was going, but didn't want to look like I didn't understand. "Yeah, that's just what I want to do with my life. Eat elephants. Thanks for that."

Everyone laughed, and I laughed with them.

Jim wouldn't let it go. "That lesson applies to everything in life. What you want to do is just one of those things, but if you go at it like you eat an elephant, you can get where you want to be."

"And where is that, Jim?" I was getting a little irritated.

"In your Mom's bed."

Now I was getting pissed. It's one thing for Matt and I to talk about it, but what the hell? What had Matt been telling them. I was getting ready to stand up and walk out, when Matt said, "It can be done, because we've all done it."

"Huh?"

Bill was sitting on the couch. "That's right. We're all doing it. You were never able to hide how much you wanted Anne, so we thought we'd bring you into the group. You good with it?"

No I wasn't good with it. So the whole group had been talking about how much I wanted to fuck Mom? That's not cool. On the other hand, what if they were telling the truth? What if it could be done?

"I might be good with it, if you guys aren't all bull shitting me."

"We're not bull shitting," said Chris. "We're not bull shitting at all."

I looked at Matt. "You and Susan? Are you shitting me?"

"Yep. Me and Mom. She's hotter than I ever imagined. That red-haired bush is fine, Man, just fine." He looked around the group. "Okay, who was talking about the best blowjob you ever had?"

Sammy pumped his fist in the air. "My Mom gives the best blowjob I'll ever have."

I looked at him. I knew his Mom, Bonnie, and she was hot. Cute little blonde. I couldn't help but imagine her face on my dick.

"You're serious, aren't you? This isn't some sort of hazing ritual?"

"No, Dude. It's not hazing. It's fact. We're all in there. You can be, too, if you'll listen to us."

"I'm all ears now. Let's have it."

One by one, they all recounted how they were fucking their Mothers. Either they were telling the truth, or O'Malleys was putting some sort of psychedelic drugs in their beer. If it was some sort of mass hysteria drug, I didn't get it, so maybe it was the truth. If it was, then I was in. I told them that.

Jim took charge. "It started with me and Bill, and we've learned some lessons along the way with each of us. There are a few basic principles that seem to be consistent."

He sounded like a damned college professor. "...a few basic principles that seem to be consistent."

"And?"

"First, you have to understand your needs and your Mom's needs. You want to fuck her. Right?"

I looked around. If they were all doing it, what could I lose by admitting that's what I wanted? I nodded.

"What your Mom wants is for you to love her, totally and deeply. You can't get what you want until you give her what she wants. That's step one, really. You have to show her how much you love her."

"That sounds easy enough."

"Then you have to make her see you as a sexual being, and not just her little boy. That's the tough part, but once you get it out there, everything starts to fall into place."

I looked at Matt. I still couldn't get the image of Susan's red-haired bush out of my mind. Then I thought about what Mom's bush might look like. What it might look like with my face buried in it. "So how do I start?"

Chris said, "When's the last time you told her how much you love her?"

"Maybe Christmas, I don't know."

"Well, she needs to hear it every day. How do you kiss her?"

"Maybe on the cheek. Hell, I don't know."

They laughed in unison. "Just like us. That's where we were. Now look at us. A real gang of motherfuckers!" I laughed, too. The image was something. "Motherfucker" has become the ultimate curse word, but these guys were claiming the label proudly.

We talked for awhile. Somebody explained that what she wanted was to know I loved her, respected her, and that she could trust me. Seemed pretty basic.

As we broke up to head home, I said, "If you guys are bullshitting me, I'm going to kick some ass."

Matt said, "Just do what we tell you, and see how it goes. You down for meeting here again later in the week?"

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"

When I got home the first thing I did was to find Mom. She was down in the basement doing her yoga. I don't know what pose she was in, but it looked good. She had her butt up in the air and it looked fine in those tight yoga pants. I waited until she finished that move, and then went up to her. She stood up, slightly out of breath, and I hugged her tight to me. "I love you, Mom. I hope you know how much."

"What have you done this time, Ryan? You in trouble?"

I laughed. Yeah, I could understand how she might think that. "No, not in trouble, unless loving your Mom too much can be trouble."

She hugged me back, and I pulled her close. "I need to send you to O'Malleys more often, I guess, if this is the reaction I get," she said. "You want to learn some yoga with me?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm working on my inflexibility. You mind if I watch you?"

"Sure," she said. "I've just got a few more to work through, then I'll start supper, or maybe just order some pizza. What do you think?"

"Whatever's easiest for you." I sat down while she got back on her yoga mat. I wasn't exaggerating when I said I thought she looked better with a little age on her. She had a strap top on over the yoga pants, and those tits were looking good. I noticed a little nipple action going on. Did yoga turn her on? Maybe it was my hugging her?

That's how I spent the rest of the weekend. I hugged her whenever I could, and told her how much I loved her. I guess I was getting on her nerves because she finally said, "I get it, Honey. You love me. You don't have to tell me every ten minutes." So, lesson one to myself: Don't push it too hard. Be a little subtle. That had never been my strength, so I made myself slow down.

On Sunday she was standing at the sink, wearing another pair of yoga pants. I walked behind her and hugged her from behind. I didn't go in with the idea of making it sexual, but that's how it worked out because I ended up with my hands on her belly and pulling her butt against my hard dick. She turned around and put her hands on my chest, pushing me away. "Whoa, Son. Don't forget I'm your Mother."

"Can't help it. Those damned yoga pants on you drive me crazy."

She laughed. "Try to control yourself."

I hugged her to me, from the front this time, and made sure my dick was pressed against her. "What's gotten into you?," she asked me. She wasn't laughing this time.

"I don't know. You've just always had that effect on me. I'm serious. I can't help it."

"Well, don't let your father see you like that."

She pushed me away and went back to the sink, while I sat at the kitchen table looking at her ass. She turned around to tell me something, and saw where I was looking. "Am I going to have to start wearing a burlap bag when you're around?"

"Wouldn't make any difference. It's what's in it, not what you're wearing."

This was getting pretty deep, and I wasn't ready for it yet, so I changed the subject. "I saw Matt at O'Malleys. When's the last time you saw Susan? How's she doing?"