Mother and son share a special bed for sex

Heath Wilson was home on leave. Tomorrow morning he would board a plane and report to Fort Bragg, and shortly after that he would be deployed to Afghanistan. Home for Heath was a trailer on the east side of Matlock, Texas; a small town in the Panhandle. He lived with his mother, Jolene, and his younger brother, Jared. They were, to put it bluntly, white trash. The talked like white trash, and they dressed like white trash. But, really, it didn’t matter because what happened on the hot, sweltering August night could have happened anywhere to anyone.

Jolene got pregnant and had Heath when she was 18. At 37, the years had taken their toll. She wasn’t beautiful, but she could still turn heads despite the crow’s feet and the slight paunch that hung over the waist of her low-slung jeans. She bought her clothes at Wal-Mart, and she wore them a size too small. She always had on too much make-up, thinking it made her look younger, not realizing it made her look cheap. After she quit school, she worked at Hooters, then she took some hostess jobs at local restaurants. Once, she even worked as a receptionist at a law firm, but that only lasted a few weeks. Her clothes and looks weren’t suited for a downtown business. For the past eight years she worked at Earl Tolson’s Used Cars where her duties included answering the phone and dealing with irate customers and horny salesmen. And fucking Earl twice a month.

Before he joined the Army, Heath worked a series of dead-end jobs. He got fired from most of them because he didn’t show up, or he showed up drunk, or he picked fights with his boss.

Jolene was worried and frightened for her son. Most mothers would have tried to spend the last few days with a child headed for a war; she knew that, but she thought a few drinks would steady her nerves. So that Thursday night she went to John’s Tavern, intending to have a few beers, but she was rarely able to have a just few beers. More often than not, her trips to a bar ended in someone’s bed or backseat. That night was no exception.

It was after midnight when she staggered into the trailer, her clothes disheveled; smelling of beer, cheap perfume and stale cigarettes. She was greeted by the sight of her oldest son surrounded by empty beer cans, watching porn and rubbing himself through his jeans. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What the fuck do you thing I’m doing?” he slurred.

“What if your little brother came home and saw you acting like a goddamn pervert?” she screamed.

“What if my little brother came home and watched his drunken whore of a mother stagger in at midnight?” he screamed back.

“You little shit,” she yelled as her hand flew toward his face. Just before it struck he grabbed her wrist. Later, neither of them could say who moved first. They were in each other’s arms, their lips pressed together so hard they found bruises in the morning, their tongues were probing each other’s mouths. He pushed up her short denim skirt. She fumbled with his belt. He reached under her panties and squeezed her round, fleshy ass. She pulled down his zipper and squeezed his cock through his briefs.

Did she pull him backwards and fall on the tattered couch, or did he push her down? It really didn’t matter. He pushed aside the crotch of her panties and she pulled his dick free. Did she guide him between her swollen lips and into her pussy, or did he slam his hard cock into her? It didn’t really matter.

It didn’t take long. Bracing his feet on the floor for leverage he rammed his cock into her cunt. She dug her fingernails into his back and wrapped her legs around him, nearly falling off the couch. In less than a minute, he tensed, spilling his cum into her, collapsing on her like a dead weight. She pushed him and rolled from under him. He looked at her and started to say, “Mom, I’m sorry, I….” she glared at him and raised her hand, cutting him off before she turned and went to her bedroom.

* * * * *

The next morning she stood at the counter, drinking her coffee. With her back to him, she said, “Since this is your last night at home, we should all go out to eat. Let’s go to La Posada when I get off work. Will you tell your brother when he gets back from his sleep-over? “Sure,” he said, “Look, Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. It won’t never happen again.” She stared at him for a moment, then lit a cigarette and went out the door. As she left, she turned and said, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

That night, in the crowded restaurant, she tried to make small talk, but a 20-year old and a sullen teenager really didn’t have a lot to say to a 37 year-old woman. After downing his last bite, Jared, her youngest, said, “Can we go? Matt’s coming over to hang out.”

“Matt can wait. This is your brother’s last night at home.”

Under his breath, Jared muttered, “Fuck him.”

“What did you say?”

“Mom, it’s all right. Let’s go home. Thanks for the dinner.”

After dropping Jared off, Jolene said, “Do you want a beer? Let’s go to Danny’s”

“I’m only 20,” Heath protested.

“I’ve known Danny since we was in the first grade. I think I can persuade him to give you a beer,” she laughed.

At the bar, she drew quite a few looks. She was wearing her usual Friday night attire, tight jeans, and a tighter black blouse; the push up bra making her breasts look bigger and firmer than they were. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the regulars to end up in the parking lot with her before the night was over, and tonight, Joe Delaney thought he’d try his luck. As she bent over the pool table, he came up behind her and grabbed the cue. “Hey, I’ve got a bigger stick right here, Jo. Why don’t you shoot with it?”

Heath couldn’t believe his ears. “What the fuck did you say? That’s my mother, you fat prick!”

Grimes moved toward him and growled, “Go back to North Carolina and play soldier, asshole. Your mom and me got some business.”

“Like hell you do,” Two punches and it was over. Joe lay sprawled on the green felt table. “Let’s get out of here, baby,” Jolene said. Passing a 7-11, Jolene said, “Pull in here.” A few minutes later, she got back in the pick up carrying a pack of smokes and a couple six packs of beer. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Go where?” her son asked.

“It don’t matter.”

Heath turned onto the highway and headed south. Jolene popped the top on a can and handed it to him. She opened another one, and lit a cigarette. Neither of them talked. They both knew where they were going. Heath parked the car on in a field overlooking the lake. “Give me a smoke,” he said. Lighting it, he took a long drag. Finally Jolene grinned and said, “Is this where you take them girls you go out with?”

Returning her grin he replied, “Sometimes.”

“What do you do with ’em?”

“I think you know, ” he said.

“What? Tell me.”

“You know, we make out, sometimes we do it.”

“Is this where you knocked that up that little slut, Jana?” his mother asked.

“What is this?” he demanded.

Downing one beer, she opened another, and lit her third cigarette. “Just curious.” Then, taking a gulp and staring straight ahead, she said, almost in a whisper, “This is where you was conceived. Right down this road.”

“Jesus, Mom. I don’t need to hear this.” He opened another Bud.

She turned her head and studied him for a minute. Then tossing her cigarette butt out the window, and finishing her beer, she reached down and rested her hand on his thigh. “Open another one for me.”

“You really don’t need no more beer, Mom” Heath said.

“You don’t know what the fuck I need, Heath. Give me a goddamn beer.” Handing her another beer, she took a large swallow, then set it on the dash. “Or maybe you do know what I need,” her hand moving higher, toward his crotch. Leaning into him, he felt her breasts pressing into his arm. “Do you want me to tell you what I need?”


But she didn’t stop. Her hand moved higher, until it rested on the growing bulge under his jeans. ” Shit, baby, I think you know just what I need. Pressing closer, she kissed his neck and squeezed the swollen muscle between his legs. “In fact, I think you need it, too.” She took his hand, and guided it to her breast. “You need it. You want it. Don’t you?” She began to rub him slowly up and down, then traced her finger over and around him. “C’mon, baby. It’s all right.” And again, “I need it. I need you. God. Please, baby.” She was rubbing him harder. He couldn’t help himself. He cupped her heavy breast. “Is this what you did to Jana?” His breath was quickening. “What did she do to you?” She unzipped his tight jeans. She unsnapped them. She ran her hands over his briefs.. “Raise up,” she whispered. Bracing against the back of the seat, he lifted his hips and helped her push his jeans down, then his briefs. Finally, his cock sprang out, like a spring under tension. “Jesus,” she said, holding it straight up. She began to pump it, slowly. “Did she do this to you?” Did she jack you off? Did she? I’ll bet she did.”

He grew even larger. She stopped, and he couldn’t help groaning and muttering “Shit,” as she let him go. Reaching for her beer, she took another large drink then sank to her knees, squeezing between the seat and the dash. She tugged his jeans and shorts down the rest of the way until they lay pooled at his feet.

She took him in both hands and slowly stroked him from the base, over the swollen veins, to the purple head. She moved her hands back down. Shaking her long hair, she bent lower, and looked in his eyes. “I’ve been told,” she said with a smirk, “that I’m good at this,” Then, without warning, she took him deep, then slowly raised her head, her lips gripping him all the way. It was almost more than he could take. Looking up at him, she laughed. Then she took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. Then she took him deep again, and again, and again, fucking him with her mouth; over and over, until he bucked up and down, moaning, swearing, his breath coming in gasps. Then, as suddenly as she started, she stopped and held him upright, not moving, letting him come down from his high.

Comments are closed.