“I won’t leave you hanging,” I murmured.
I eased one hand down through the elastic top of her track suit trousers and pushing down her panties I felt for her vulva. Its lips felt swollen and engorged, and as I inserted a finger into her vagina it was hot and very wet.
I searched for her clitoris, and finding it I slowly circled it with my finger.
Mother was sobbing and crying out, “Darling…oh my darling…you’re driving me mad…”
She turned in my arms and pulling my head down to hers she kissed me frantically, and in seconds we were eating each other. She struggled blindly to pull down the zip of my trousers and then took hold of my penis; slowly stroking the foreskin over its head.
“Oh God I need you,” she gasped, “I need you…I need you…”
I eased her over to the kitchen work bench, bent down and pulled off her trousers and lifted her on to the bench. She did the rest, parting and raising her legs to present her vagina to me.
I stood in front of her and was about to press the head of my penis into her tunnel when I had a thought that deterred me.
“You won’t get pregnant, will you?”
In a stifled voice she said, “I don’t care…I don’t care…for God’s sake don’t stop now…I need it…I must have you…”
That knocked out my reticence. I slid the head of my penis into her waiting entrance – into her hot, wet, sucking femaleness; the tunnel of love.
I moaned as I felt the walls of her vagina clinging to my shaft, as if trying to draw me in deeper.
She was whimpering and sighing, “Beautiful…beautiful darling,” as I moved back and forth in her.
She started to shake with gradually increasing intensity, crying out, “It’s happening…no…no…don’t make me…oh no…please don’t….aaah….ow….”
She seemed to convulse, putting her hands behind my buttocks dragging me close as if she would absorb me completely, and wailing, “Yes…yes…oh my God…oh my God…” Then with a long drawn out cry, “Aaaahneeeow,” she started to sob in earnest.
My testes released their burden, pumping sperm up my shaft and into her. We struggled together for several seconds, striving to get my full length into her. As I finished she wept, “Don’t stop…don’t stop…I haven’t…oh…ah…oh…”
I knew from my experience with the widow what she needed. Her orgasm was still going on, so I kept moving in her until I felt her relax.
She leaned forward weakly, her head on my shoulder. “So good…so good…oh darling…” she sobbed.
I held her to me, my slacked penis still in her vagina. When we did separate and she was standing on the floor, there was that moment of awkwardness – of shyness – that seems to follow even the most satisfying coition.
Mother glanced up at me almost timidly and said, “I’m feeling a bit shaky…fragile…I’ll make a cup of tea.”
The idea of making tea was so mundane we looked at each other and started to laugh. We clung to each other for a while as our laughter subsided.
When we had quietened mother asked, “Was it all right, darling, you didn’t mind…I mean because I’m you mother you don’t feel…?”