Robin, as a young man goes to college. When he comes home for winter break he shows Charlotte he is a man.
Chapter three (Robin’s Revenge)
I got up fairly early the next morning but Mom was already in the kitchen. I kissed the back of her neck, poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table.
Mom asked, “What would you like for breakfast, Robin?”
I answered, “A glass of orange juice, eggs over, bacon and toast and, by the way, I go by Chris now.”
“You’ve changed your name, whatever for?”
“Mom, I’m a different person. I’ve gone on a few dates, mostly as a group, but I’m dating.”
“You raised me as a little girl, well Mom, that’s behind me. I know something happened to turn you against men, but Mom, I am a man, I’m your son and always will be, but I am a man. I’ll have some learning to do but I will learn it.”
I turned away with tears in my eyes; I realized I’d lost my little girl forever.
Chris, it was hard to think of him as Chris, hugged me and said, “You still and will always have my love. Now it’s a son’s love. Tell me what made you the way you are.”
I didn’t expect her to tell me and she didn’t, she just shook her head no. But I needed to find out what had happened to her, it might help me to understand why she’d raised me the way she had.
After breakfast I went out and took a drive. I was looking at San Francisco through a college boys eyes now not a little girls. It seemed different.
I drove around until late afternoon. When I got home I told Mom that I’d like to take her out to dinner, nothing to lavish, just a little Italian bistro, checked table clothes, Chianti bottles with a candle in them on each table, Italian scenes on the walls and bunches of grapes strung around. It looked just like Italy, if Italy was designed by an American set designer. We liked it anyway. The food was great.
I had chicken Marsala and Mom opted for the vegetarian lasagna, we split a bottle of Valpolicella. Then split a tiramisu with coffee.
When we got home Mom said she was tired. She went up to bed. I’d already planned what I was going to do. When I’d showered before going out to dinner I’d snuck into her room and torn up a pair of her panty hose. I’d formed slip knots on the ends and had tied the other ends to the bed posts, sliding them down so they weren’t evident. I was going to tie her to the bed until she told me what I wanted, no, needed to know.
When I went up I stood in her doorway, she was covered by only a sheet, lying on her back, breathing deep and rhythmically. I went on to my room and undressed leaving on only my boxer shorts. I didn’t turn any lights on; I wanted to maintain my night vision. The only illumination in her room was celestial and I needed to see.
Silently I crept into her room. One hand was easy, she was sleeping with it over her head, I looped the slip knot over her hand and pulled it down. I left it loose but if she tried to get away from me it would tighten. Her other arm was under the covers and resting across her chest. Gently, I raised the sheet and lifted her arm positioning it above her head and secured her with the second noose.
I just stared at her for long minutes, I loved her, she was my Mom and the only parent I’d ever known. I knew my father had been killed in a car accident but that was the extent of my knowledge. I’d never met any of our relatives and I needed to know more.
She really was a beautiful woman, like me she was olive complected with raven hair. She wore it long and several strands were across her cheek, I brushed them away and kissed her.
Her eyes blinked open to my kiss, sleepily she asked, “Robin, what are you doing here?”
I didn’t correct her but I did say, “I came here to talk.”
She said, “Go to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No Mom we’re going to talk tonight.”
She started to sit up but her bindings caught her up short. She was awake now, she said, “Chris what are you doing, you’ve tied me up.”
“You’re right Mom, you’re tied to the bed, you’re not going anywhere until I know about you and what made you such a misandrist.”
“A mis what,” she asked?
“A misandrist, a man-hater, what did that to you? I need to know because it formed you and you formed me. You raised me like a little girl you hated men so much.”
I cajoled her for over an hour. She continued to refuse to talk about it. Then when she finally relented, she related to me all of the sordid events. It was over two hours in the telling and she didn’t spare the details.
After she finished, I released her hands and just hugged her against my chest. Her eyes were leaking as I said over and again, “My poor sweet Mommy, my poor sweet Mommy.”
She smiled at me through her tears, she liked hearing Mommy again and I didn’t think it was too much for her to ask, I never called her anything but Mommy from that night on.
Something seemed to have broken in her, her stoic reserve had been penetrated. She pulled me to her and kissed me, not a chaste Mommy peck; she forced my mouth open and probed me with her tongue.
When our lips parted she was breathing heavily, nearly panting.
‘Take me Chris,” she said, “I want you in me.”
As I shed my boxers she rolled her panties off and pulled her gown to her waist. I moved between her legs and felt her, opening her lips. I was a virgin, well at least when it comes to penile, vaginal sex with a woman but still I knew what to do. I slid my cock up and down between her lips ‘til I found her opening and pushed in.
Mommy was tight, nothing had penetrated her since she was with Lydia and that was twelve years previously, besides, I was quite a bit bigger than that fake cock. I was nearly ten inches and even I knew that was pretty big. I took her slowly, I didn’t want to hurt her, she’d been hurt enough.
Mommy was moaning as I eased into her. It had been a long time and I was stretching her. After I had about eight inches buried I got the idea I was in virgin territory, exploring places no one had gone before. I got all of me into her but when I started to pump her I hit her cervix. She grunted in pain.
I said, “Mommy did I hurt you. Do you want me to take it out?”
“No baby, don’t take it out. Yes, it does hurt a little but it’s a sweet pain, I want you in me, take me, take me.”
I set up a steady pace, I was still touching her cervix but I wasn’t pounding against it, I’d read enough to know that that was painful. I wanted her to enjoy this as much as I was.
With me a first time virgin and she so many years unfulfilled it didn’t take long. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me to her then pulled me down in an embrace, intoning, “Oh God Chris, oh God, oh, God.”
Under me I felt her tummy rippling and her vagina was contracting, she arched her hips, forcing me deeper into and her body shook, she was moaning in ecstatic release when I climax explosively, meeting her at the top of her arc, filling her with my juices as hers flowed from her onto me. We fell into each others arms.
We embraced and bespoke our love, one for the other.
She took her gown off and turning toward me asked me to suck her breasts ‘til we fell asleep. Her sweet nipple was still against my cheek when we awakened.
She seemed ashamed and embarrassed by what had happened, trying to apologize to me for her impetuousness of the previous night.
“Mommy, I just had the best night of my life and you want to apologize? No way. I’ll tell you what I do want though,” as I rolled over her and mounted her. “I want you!”
We mated for fifteen or twenty minutes, the climaxes weren’t as earth-moving as last night but then again, they probably never will be. That first time was so special.
We had nothing in particular planned for the day, it was Saturday, so we didn’t do anything. Well, that’s not exactly true; we lolled around in bed all day. Mommy introduced me to oral sex. It was wonderful but not as nice as her pussy. Then, I tasted a woman’s vagina for the first time. When she climaxed just from my tongue and flooded my mouth and face with her sweet nectar I thought I was sipping from the Chalice of the Gods.
That evening, it was Saturday after all, she gave me my enema. And yes, we called it an enema. I’d missed our Saturday ritual while I was away at school.
When she’d finished with me, I asked if I could give her one.
She was shy about it. She finally confessed that although she’d given me hundreds, she’d never had one herself. I told, “There’s always a first time,” and filled the two quart bag with warm water.
I poised her on hands and knees in the center of the bed then pushed her head down ‘til it rested on the pillow. Taking some KY jelly, I fingered her, pushing the gel into her. I couldn’t help myself; I pumped my finger in and out several times, enjoying the view.
Then I greased the nozzle and eased it in, twisting it slightly as it slid into her. I’d hung the bag low to keep the flow gentle, I opened the clamp. I was taking a great deal of pleasure in administering her first enema. She was cooing softly as the warm water flowed into her, she had a smile on her face. It was obvious she was enjoying the sensations.
After about three quarters of the bag had emptied, she felt some mild cramping, she didn’t complain but it showed on her face and I heard it in her low moan.
I rubbed tummy, starting low and working the water deeper into her bowels. She was getting full, her belly was distended.
Jokingly I said, “Looks like you’re pregnant.”
“Let’s not even kid about that, I’m thirty-eight, I’m too old to get pregnant and besides I don’t want to look like a cow.”
“You wouldn’t look like a cow, but you’d be beautiful and even if you did look like a cow, you’d be the prettiest, sexiest cow in the world,” I replied as I caressed her belly, spreading the water into her deepest reaches.
While I was rubbing her and she was taking the last of the water my thoughts wandered. I thought, here was my beautiful thirty-eight year old Mommy, her ass in the air being filled by her nineteen year son, and it wasn’t ludicrous, it was sexy, damned sexy. This was no medicinal enema, it was sex play, pure and simple and we were both taking pleasure from it, those were my thoughts.
I learned later what Mommy was thinking. She thought how wonderful it could have been if Howard worshiped her body, complimented her, and loved her like I did.
I removed the nozzle and pressed a finger against her tight little rosebud to keep her from leaking then helped her to the commode. Her tummy was so weighty that she walked like she was in her ninth month. I chided her again, “You really would be beautiful if you were preggers. I’d just to love riding your little hump.”
All she could say was, “Oh you,” as I seated her on the throne and left, closing the door behind me so she could have her privacy.
Mommy was pretty worn out after her enema and it was getting late. I took her to bed and lay behind her, spooning with her an arm over her massaging her tummy. She shimmied her hips against me and my cock ended up in her crack. She flexed her muscles, squeezing me. He sprang to attention. When Mommy knew I was stiff, she reached between her legs and took me in her hand then she arched her back, presenting herself to me and she guided me into her dripping pussy. She pushed back to meet me. My arm encircled her, holding her around her lower belly, I pulled her tight against me slipping into her past and through her hot folds and crevasses, it was a feeling that I’d forever relish, slipping into my sweet, sweet Mommy. She humped her hips against me, supplying all the motion; we both came with gentle orgasms. Our fluids mixed, wetting us, we both slipped into the Arms of Morpheus.
During the night, I’d fallen out of her but I still held her, her bottom pressed against me.
Sunday morning we awoke to a beautiful day. It was in the sixties with clear blue skies, an oddity for any San Franciscan. The stray thought passed through my mind, a quote from America’s most celebrated author, Mark Twain. Twain was quoted as saying (and I probably paraphrase), “The coldest winter I ever endured was a summer I spent in San Francisco.”
I couldn’t argue. I think San Francisco is the most beautiful major city in America but its weather is not its strongest point unless you’re into fog and chill.
We took advantage of the day, visiting Fisherman’s Wharf, sipping hot coffee while we looked out over the broad Pacific. Even that great water’s waves were small and peaceful; truly Pacific.
We wandered around ‘til lunch then had soft shell crab sandwiched and fries, not necessarily a San Francisco meal but tasty nonetheless.
Then we shopped; for more food. We bought crabs, shrimp and even a couple of Maine lobsters. From a green grocer Mommy picked up several ears of corn. Dinner tonight was definitely not San Francisco fare; we were having a low country boil, my all-time favorite. I picked up two six packs of Anchor Steam, San Francisco’s world famous beer, and deservedly so. One was to drink the other was for the boil, the sea food and accoutrements are steamed in beer. It was going to be my last weekend before I had to go back to school and we both wanted a party, a private party, just Mommy and me.
When we got home it was after six. I mixed us each martinis while Mommy started the meal. I volunteered to help. She had me shuck the corn as she brought the huge pot to a boil, added about ten tablespoons of Old Bay spice mixture, a little cayenne pepper and a couple of bay leaves. She liked to let the mixture simmer for about thirty minutes to let the flavors meld. While the pot simmered she put on some music and we danced. Each of us was reveling in the other’s presence when we were brought back to the present by the squall of the timer. Our thirty minutes were over.
While Mommy started layering the various components, longest cooking to shortest I, handling the duty I was most capable of popped the tops from two Anchor Steams. Mommy’s I poured into a frosted pilsner glass, she is after all a lady, while my own, well I’m a college guy; I guzzled right from the bottle.
It couldn’t have been a more perfect day for me, the ideal weather, the fun we’d exploring and shopping at Fisherman’s Wharf, our little dance interlude and a fantastic dinner. I was sated.
Mommy poured us each a snifter of brandy; we sat on the sofa listening to the soft music, snuggled and sipped. I knew there was something she wanted to say to me. We’d shared so much; I couldn’t imagine what she was holding back.
“Mommy, tell me what you want to say, I implored her. I’ve gotten to know you; you’re holding out on me, what is it?” I asked as I held her close.
She didn’t even look me in the eyes as she whispered, “Chris, it’s Sunday night.”
Aha I thought, of course it was Sunday night. She always sodomized me on Sunday night, and I looked forward to it. It was how I learned about how fantastic ejaculation felt. I’d prayed that she would “punish” me every night and I’d finally reasoned out that she took pleasure from in, too.
I didn’t need that stimulation to arouse me any more, my Mommy kept me ready but if that was what she wanted, I’d do it, take it for her.
I hugged her to me and whispered, of course it’s Sunday night. Do you want to get me ready?”
She took me by the hand and led me up the stairs. At my door she said, “Why don’t you get undressed, I’ll meet you in my room, ok?”
She left me at my door and walked to her bedroom.
There wasn’t much for me to do to get ready. I stripped and walked to her room. I was standing by the chair, waiting for to help me over the arm. I glanced down at that chair, that trusty old stand-by and was surprised to see a pillow resting it the seat but no towel over the arm.
“Hey, Mommy, what’s with the pillow,” I asked.
Mommy walked to me. Like always she had on her robe, concealing her faux phallus, but tonight, there was something different in the way she approached me, I couldn’t really read her but there was something different. Like always, she had a tube of KY jelly in her hand. I started to lean over the chair arm but she pulled me back erect.
She said, “I know you’ll hurt me, you’re so big, but please be gentle with me.”
She handed me the tube of lubricant, dropped her robe to the floor and lay across the chair arm, reaching back and parting her cheeks, lewdly exposing herself and saying, “Chris, take me, I’m yours, yours in every way.”
I stood in shock. I had expected to be the one bent over the chair and now here was my Mommy, holding herself open, waiting for me.
“Mommy, I can’t do this to you, I’ll hurt you. Please do it to me.”
“Chris, yes you’ll hurt me, you’ll hurt me because you’re big, not because you’re viscous and hateful. I know you’ll be as gentle with me as you can, but I also know you’ll stuff me, even maybe tear me. Chris, I don’t care. Don’t you understand, this is my final bugaboo, my last hurdle? I need you to do this for me, yes, for me; and yes damnit you’ll hurt me. I want you to be as gentle as you can but I also know what will happen. I want you to promise me you won’t stop no matter what I say, do you promise?”
How could I deny her, I whispered, “Yes Mommy.”
“Then get me ready,” she said.
I used the lubricant liberally, squeezing in directly into her and forcing it into forcing it deep with one finger then a second and finally a third. I spread my fingers, opening her, I could look into her depths, I couldn’t do any more. I slathered a handful of the lube onto myself and guided the head of my cock to her tight hole. I pressed forward just letting her feel my presence, not yet penetrating her. Then I whispered, “Are you ready Mommy?”
She answered, “Please Chris let me feel you.” And suddenly, she did.
I pushed forward into her, only the head pressed through her tight little rosebud but my cock head was over three inches in diameter, nothing like this had ever invaded her, although I stopped, trying to let her adjust to me she wailed, a pain filled wail, “Oooooooooooooooh; I wanted to stop but I’d promised. I gave her a few minutes to get accustomed to me then I pressed further into her, slowly and gently, quarter inch by quarter inch. She was pounding on her pillow, screaming, aaaaaah, God you’re splitting me open, oh God you’re killing me. I wanted to stop, pull out of her but I remembered my foolish promise. I’d keep the promise but this wasn’t fun, I felt like I was a torturer, still, a promise is a promise, I slowly pressed deeper into her. I’ll confess, I was reacting, I was deep in her, her anus was clenching, squeezing me. In spite of all the pain, the wailing and tears, that tight ass felt damned good wrapped around me, squeezing me like it was a boa constrictor. She was still screaming in a mournful agony when I came. I further filled her bowel, my cock was more than enough, and then I added half a quart of cum, flooding her guts completely. I was holding her lower belly when I blasted into her, I pumped so much cum into her that I could feel her belly swell a little,
After I’d cum I stopped pumping her, I just held her, held her in place, my cock still up her but softening, shriveling, taking her pain away. When I, at last fell out I turned her to me and squeezed her saying, “You’re one brave chick. I think I’ll keep you.”
Her reply was far less frivolous, she answered in all seriously, “Next time, I’ll be able to take care of you.”
I didn’t doubt it for a minute.
I left the following morning for school; I wouldn’t be back ‘til Easter Vacation, or as it’s now PC to call it, Spring Break. I was so happy to be going home, Girls at school had come on to me but I knew my love and my only lover was waiting.
When I got home it wasn’t exactly what I expected. Mommy had put on a little weight but she still looked, as we said in those days, smokin’. I thought I’d get a big kiss and I did but she was pretty subdued a she asked me to come with her. She took me to her bedroom, sat me on the bed and said, “Chris, we need to talk, I’ve got a problem, a major problem, I’m pregnant, what are we going to do?”
I think I amazed her; I jumped up and hugged her. I was ecstatic, “I’m going to be a Daddy, is that what you’re telling me. O h you wonderful Mommy, when, when are you going to give me a baby?”
It turned out that she was four months advanced, I said, Wow, only another five months, oh Wow Mommy, you’re going to make me a Daddy.”
My enthusiasm finally overwhelmed her. We fell into bed and fucked like little minks before she said, “Chris, we really do need to talk about this.”
“I know we do but I’m just so happy. From the time that I knew I was a boy, I knew there was only one girl, one woman that I wanted. I never imagined it could occur but it did. I wanted you and I got you. I used to fantasize about us having children together and now we’re going to. Our first baby, then I want more. Nobody knows me as a man; I’m still the secretive little girl that you raised. She’s gone to live with her father or whatever. But I’m your new husband, yes I’m young but so what, you caught a youngin’. Now take me to bed, I want to start on the next one.
“Uh Chris, I have to get this one out first before you can put another in,”
“Oh, details, details I said as I led her to the bedroom. I really do want more, Mommy.”
She had my first son, our third child when she was forty-two.