Mother is an Uptight Redhead Ch. 08

When I had worked my way out of the restraints and went downstairs, I saw I sight that took my breath away. Mommy was standing at the stove in her high heels and stockings. Still in her garter belt and heels, she was facing the stove. Her ass was thrust high in the air by her heels, arching her back ever so slightly and thrusting her ass up, where it hung in the air like a perfect pair of celestial globes. Her long, thick, middle-aged legs were just ever so slightly apart, forming a lovely V the led from her cunt downward. I could smell bacon and pancakes. "How may pancakes?" she asked. She'd heard me coming down the stairs. "Two."

I continued to evaluate her from the back. Of course her body had the solid meat on her bones that one expects when a woman is 50, but despite the years she preserved an hourglass figure with a waist. I stared at those long legs that went on forever until they went into her heels. If she wasn't mom and I saw her from behind in a bar or if I was standing in line behind her at the CVS pharmacy, she'd stir my cock and I'd think about how I'd like to fuck her. The reality that she was my mom and she liked to fuck me back only complicated matters.

I realized that my cock really was stirring. She'd dominated me. I had to make it clear that she was not the one in charge. I saw the butter dish on the table. I ran my index finger along the edge of the butter and took away a slice of it. I palmed it, and rolled the gob of greasy fat around in my hand, coating my fingers. Then I rubbed it over my hardening pink shaft. By the time I had rubbed it all over while watching Mommy's fine ass, I was standing at attention, glistening. The veins along the length of the shaft were beginning to stand out.

I walked up behind her. "This looks great," I said, and pushed my pelvis forward, thrusting my engorged cock into the crack of her ass. I put my hands on either side of her waist and ground my hips, thrusting forward, so she'd feel my fat Viagra-fueled cock filling her ass crack, up and down, up and down.

She didn't flinch. She threw a couple of pancakes on a plate and then stirred the bacon. What an uptight German bitch. She was not going to acknowledge me.

Two can play any game that one starts.

I reached down with my hands and grabbed her ass cheeks at the bottom, then pulled them apart. I didn't assume that her pussy was still dripping wet from our fucking a few minutes before. She's as prissy as she is pretty, and she had probably rinsed the white globs of sperm from her while I was getting out of the restraints. I aimed the head of my well-oiled cock at her pussy and pushed forward. TOO HIGH! Or so I guessed from the failure to find a welcoming slit. My cock careened up the valley of her ass crack again. While it felt smooth and delightful, it wasn't my target. Mom gave a little snort, a mix of laughter and condescension. I removed my right hand from her ass and guided my rigid meat lower, then thrust forward again. From the warmth of parting flesh I could tell that I'd hit the mother lode of pussy. I thrust again, deep, and now she let out a tiny gasp. I could feel that her legs had gone rigid so that my thrusting wouldn't push her forward into the stove. She put her left hand on the left front edge of it, to steady herself. In her other hand she held a spatula.

As my cock head entered her wet dripping cunt, Mom didn't flinch. She set down the spatula, reached over and picked up the bowl of pancake batter, tilted it, and formed three perfect cakes on the griddle, then set the bowl down. I pulled out very slowly until only the tip of my cock was still engaged with her, then slowly pushed back in, my buttered cock enjoying the tight embrace of her moistening slit. "That's nice, honey," she said, as if I'd just showed her a good score on a third grade homework assignment.

I thrust hard into her now-slippery cavern. The Viagra hadn't worn off, I hadn't eaten anything, and I was completely engorged again. But having only erupted with spurts of my seed a short time before, I could now thrust with force again and again and again for a much longer time before I'd explode again. This wasn't just about pleasure, so I didn't hold back. I fucked her as hard as I've ever fucked.

She didn't move. She didn't acknowledge. She kept being Mommy. But I knew. Mommy was a fuck-slut who wanted to play games while she got filled with cock. She could not admit that she liked sex, and wanted cock, and wanted MY cock.

"I'm fucking you, MOM, like I've wanted to fuck you for years!" I yelled at her, thrusting violently and feeling her cunt pinch me, as if she was squeezing it around me to give me pleasure. "You can pretend it's just Sunday and you're just cooking, but that's just a game! Your boy is in you now!"

She still pretended to proceed as if nothing was taking place. That was the attraction. I could see that Mommy could hide the sexual side while she went about her daily work, but all the while she was actually thinking about fat hard cock.

'Hurry up, son, your bacon is done," she said, pulling the dripping strips of meat from the pan. Once her cooking task was done, I felt a very slight relaxation of her legs and ass and back, as if the tension in her shoulders was released. I could tell that her rigid self-discipline was being released. The moment she turned off the burner on the stove, I pulled out my cock, put both hands on her shoulders, and pulled her to one side so she now faced the kitchen counter beside the fridge. I reached up and quickly grabbed both her wrists and guided her hands to the kitchen counter. Then I put my own hands on her hips again so that she would not move, and guided my throbbing meat back to her dripping pussy. I thrust it in. With the food off the stove, she now relaxed and thrust her ass back to me as I pushed into her.

"Your food is getting cold," she said in teasing voice. I could tell she was having fun. "I'll have some meat after you are full," I said. She pushed her ass back harder, grinding me, balls deep, into her cunt.

As I drove my cock into my mother, she was facing the counter. She was, as a result, facing the open kitchen window that opened across the yard to the Beechen house kitchen. Seen from the front, she was wearing nothing but a skimpy apron so that her white, freckled tits were almost completely exposed. Thankfully, it was Sunday. No one would be walking by.

She placed each hand on the edge of the counter for a better grip and, steady, I drove hard into her.

"Is that all you got?" she cried out, but her voice was high pitched that I could tell that she was into it and was only faking her verbal response. Her body was her true response to the presence of her son's fat rigid cock in her pussy for a second time in an hour. She was grinding her ass back at me, trying to position her clit so that the shaft of my cock would rub it as I entered her slippery hole.

"Does Mommy want to cum?" I asked her, teasing her. I didn't think she'd admit it.

"Mommy cums twice every day, so Junior should make it happen," she replied.

Twice a day? Was this mere mind games?

I thrust, feeling the wetness of pussy cream and my own deposit of cum lubing every thrust. Her feeble attempts to get my cock aligned with her clitoris were frustrated by her high hells, thrusting her ass into air. I pounded harder, pounded harder, and enjoyed the knowledge that she was wide awake, aching for an orgasm, but I would be the only one to climax.

And I did. I thought it was powerful before, when she'd dominated me. But there is no orgasm like that of the dominating victory. Now she was letting me know that I was in control. I didn't have nearly as much to shoot into her, but the pleasure of each spasm of my load was intensified by her WILLING submission. No drugs. Just my cock in Mommy, with her acceptance. "Ugh, Ugh, Ugh, Ugh," I grunted, starting to orgasm for the second time in half an hour. It was not as explosively satisfying as shooting my load the earlier time. It felt more like a series of pleasurable jerks of my cock. More than the orgasm, I enjoyed fact that I was having one and she was not.

When my jerking cock calmed down, she reached for a kitchen towel and put it on her shoulder. I understood, and put it around my cock as I pulled out, cleaning myself. I tucked the cloth into the triangle where cunt meets inner thighs. She thankfully reached down and pushed it to her pussy. I knew she didn't want any drip on the tile.

She was still facing the open window. When she called out, I could detect the fake smile of her voice. "Hi, Paula, how was last night's movie?"