XPost: alt.romance, alt.guns, soc.women   
   XPost: soc.men, rec.nude, alt.philosophy   
      
   In the early seventies, I was taking some time off from   
   school. I was a member of the counterculture, 22, and   
   was living near my divorced mom’s house in the San   
   Fernando Valley. I was then about six feet tall, and   
   weighed about 190. A friend had taken off to the East   
   Coast, and had left me with some exceptionally powerful   
   marijuana. My girlfriend too had left me, and I was   
   feeling down, so I would go over to my moms quite a   
   lot.   
      
   My mom was still at 42 very attractive. She was about   
   5’5" dark haired, and thin with big boobs. She probably   
   weighed about 120. She had tried to get things going   
   with a couple of boyfriends, but things hadn’t panned   
   out. My dad had moved away. She and I would sit out on   
   the patio in front of her pool, and complain about how   
   shitty things had turned since the Vietnam war started   
   and so on.   
      
   She’d have a couple of drinks. I’d smoke a joint. Over   
   those few months, I discovered how lonely she was.   
   She’d been a successful young editor at a magazine, and   
   quit it all to marry my father, an engineer. Our   
   conversations covered everything politics, drugs, even   
   sex.   
      
   "You know, I never could come with your father," she   
   said. "I always had to masturbate." I was pretty non-   
   committal during these ramblings she got into. I found   
   myself simultaneously embarrassed, and very, very   
   turned on.   
      
   At home, I’d fantasize about how great it’d be to fuck   
   her. I’d gotten lots of experience with the two or   
   three long-term hippy girlfriends I’d had. We’d done   
   everything, and for long periods too. The fact that   
   there was such great grass around only helped. Everyone   
   of my age group was generally great in bed—the grass   
   taught us to screw slowly and in depth. Nothing was   
   foreign to us, sixty-nining, you name it.   
      
   I had the impression that my mother was sexually kind   
   of naïve, and I knew that I could give her a great time   
   in bed if only I had a chance. One day, as we settled   
   into our deck chairs at the back of the house, I had a   
   wild idea. "How about you try some of this?" I said.   
      
   "I don’t know—it’s still a drug to me," she said. She   
   never complained about my smoking it, a sign of her   
   liberalism, but she had never asked for any.   
      
   "Nonsense," I said. This stuff is extremely mild.   
   Nothing, in fact, could have been further from the   
   truth.   
      
   "Come on, I’ll show you," I said. My mom always wanted   
   to be perceived as liberal, so she went ahead and   
   toked. It took a few minutes to get her to hold it in   
   her lungs, but after a while, she was able to. We both   
   fell silent then. She and I were both dressed in   
   summer-wear. She had a T-shirt with a bra underneath,   
   and shorts with I presumed panties on under those. I   
   had a pair of swim trunks on only.   
      
   I moved my deck chair next to my mom’s. This was truly   
   psychotic grass, where you can’t think or speak, but   
   everything sensory seems to be underlined. I put my   
   hand on her shoulders and began to stroke her lightly   
   over the top of her back.   
      
   "Leaves fire trails..." she said slowly, referring no   
   doubt to the sensation. I continued this for a while,   
   then shifted to the tops of her arms. She seemed to   
   shift her weight toward me to give me greater access. I   
   was so stoned, that the last thing I could have done   
   was rush, but finally I shifted my weight to nuzzle her   
   neck (which she seemed to lean into, giving the   
   slightest hint of a moan.   
      
   With trepidation, I shifted my fingertips delicately to   
   my mother’s breasts. She shuddered, but did not move   
   away. My fingertips gently cupped these full and still   
   perky objects, occasionally trailing over her nipples.   
   I bent to kiss her, my tongue entering immediately. She   
   returned my kisses languidly, tongue playing against   
   mine. Still kissing, noting that her substantial   
   nipples had become rock hard, I lifted her top over her   
   head, interrupting the kiss only to get the t-shirt by.   
      
   I languidly reached for her bra fastener in front and   
   liberated her beautiful breasts. She softly moaned now.   
   I bent to her breasts and slowly licked each nipple in   
   endless circles, while my hands caressed her arms and   
   sides. Too stoned to be afraid she would stop me, I   
   knelt beside her deck chair, and lifted my mother’s   
   little butt up slightly and skinned down her pants and   
   panties as a unit. Here was my mother naked, on a hot   
   sunny day, and I was going to be fucking her in a few   
   minutes.   
      
   But first, hippie sex! Something I was sure she had no   
   experience with. Her eyes were shut, but she seemed   
   totally relaxed. I stood and removed all my clothes   
   slowly, then knelt in front of her chair. My hands   
   found her feet, and slowly gave her a deep foot massage   
   that went on for a minute or two, then they began to   
   work their way slowly up her legs.   
      
   She said, through slack lips, "Feels sooo good..." I   
   marveled at the beauty of her still-tight belly, only   
   slightly pooched from delivering us kids, and enjoyed   
   the hairy puffed out cunt I hadn’t seen since before   
   puberty when we all ran around naked in the house. My   
   mouth found her cunt, and she started slightly, but   
   settled right away.   
      
   I got her legs a fair distance apart, and began to   
   slowly lick her clitoris, which turned out to be quite   
   large and erect, in a slow circle. She started actually   
   gasping, and slowly raised a hand to cup behind my   
   head, to prevent it moving away, as though I had any   
   intention of moving it. This went on for minutes, my   
   slow licking of my mother’s clit never varying.   
      
   By this time my cock had swollen to enormous   
   proportions. I know that many believe that we have a   
   given cock size, but I am sure that the degree of   
   excitement has something to do with size. My normally   
   seven inch cock was at least an inch longer, and half   
   an inch wider than normal. A large bubble of pre-come   
   had collected at the tip. I continued to lick and lick.   
      
   By now her hand was lightly grabbing my hair. In   
   addition, my mother was lubricating obscenely, and   
   wetness was actually coming out onto my tongue when I   
   occasionally scooped it down to enter her vagina. The   
   salty taste was wonderful and sweet.   
      
   After minutes, I rose to my feet, and helped her sit   
   up, her eyes still closed. Tilting her head to one   
   side, and lowering myself slightly, I brought the tip   
   of my monstrously swollen penis to her lips. I was   
   curious to see what she would do with it.   
      
   Surprisingly, she began to lick the head in a circle,   
   and after a while began to dip down with increasingly   
   deep strokes to the base. She continued to moan during   
   this, and squatting slightly, I managed to get my   
   finger to her still wet clit to continue the circular   
   action.   
      
   I never would have believed that my Mom could give such   
   a wonderful slow blow-job, including pretty much a deep   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)