When I got out of the Navy, I was in Seattle, and just a walking hard-on. I spent about three weeks fucking every barmaid I came across, and finally started to run out of money, so I went to work as a mechanic in a Ford garage. That garage was right next to a motorcycle dealership, so naturally, I spent most of my spare time over there after tending to all the problems involved in keeping those Falcons running. Those pieces of shit fell apart every chance they got. I couldn’t afford a new Harley, but I got a good deal in a 1939 Indian Chieftain. That baby rode like a Cadillac. About this time, I got a letter from Mom wondering if I was ever coming back to New Hampshire, so I mounted up and headed East.
I rolled into Manchester, and everything looked the same as when I left, but I was in for a shock. When I parked in the driveway of Mom’s house, a strange man came out and asked my business, and told me he had bought the house from the bank as a foreclosure and had no idea where my Mom and her husband had gone. I went to the police station and looked up an old friend of my Dad, and he said that Mom’s husband had started drinking a while back and lost his auto parts business, mortgaged Mom’s house, and lost that to the bank, and so far as he knew, they had moved upstate to Berlin where he got a job as a parts clerk in another parts store. I got lucky when I got there. I went into an Allied Auto Parts store, and there he was, big as life. He had gone downhill since I last saw him, he had a big gut, his nose was red, he was almost bald, and he was missing quite a few teeth. He told me where they lived, and said Mom would be glad to see me, he was sorry Mom hadn’t let me know they had moved, but she had fallen down the stairs and hurt her wrist, so had been unable to write. I jumped on the Indian and 5 minutes later, pulled up in front of their apartment, knocked on the door, and when she opened it, she jumped right into my arms. I held her out and asked her how she got her black eye. She just burst into tears, so I held her for a while, then we went in the house. I asked her if Francis was hitting her, and she nodded. She said it all started when he had trouble getting an erection. She asked him to see a doctor, but he refused, and after that, every time it happened, he would go get drunk. That made the problem worse, so now he even keeps a bottle in his car so he can go get a nip every hour or so at work. I think they are getting ready to fire him, and he’s been taking it out on me. I said “Well now he has someone a bit bigger to hit when he’s mad.” We went and sat on the sofa, and Mom snuggled up to me. She said “It’s so good to have you back, I really missed you, and with Francis’s problems, it’s been over 2 years since— you know.” I put my finger under her chin and tipped her head up and kissed her, my tongue going in her mouth, and she started sucking my tongue. She jumped up and started struggling to get out of her jeans, but was having trouble with a splint on her arm, so I did it for her and pulled her panties off as well. I started to take off my own, and she stopped me. She said, “No, just dig him out, I need him right now, I’m so wet, it’s pitiful.” She then straddled me, and after about 2 minutes, she was quaking and squeaking, and her ass was going like one of those paint shakers in a hardware store. I just kept pumping away, slow, making it last. She came seven or eight times before I speeded up and let myself go, and when I did, she came as well, and we had one hell of a puddle of cum to clean up. I went out and got a clean pair of jeans from my saddlebags, and then we took a shower together, taking another good fuck with me holding her up with her legs wrapped around me, and my hands under the cheeks of her ass. Afterward, I had her burn some toast and a couple pieces of potato in the oven to cover up the cum smell everywhere.
When Francis got home, he tried to play the gracious stepfather asking about how I’d been doing, etc, and we spent a fairly normal evening watching TV and making small talk. Francis explained Mom’s broken wrist and black eye by saying she was becoming accident prone in her old age. “What old age?” I said, “She’s only forty two!” He said “Maybe she’s developing some kind of thing like Parkinson’s, I don’t know, but she keeps falling and running into stuff.” He gave her a look that meant she shouldn’t tell me, which she hadn’t, but I’m not stupid.
Mom made up a bed for me on the couch, and everything was quiet for a while, then, their bedroom door opened and he peeked out, and I pretended to be asleep. A few minutes later, I could hear them arguing, so I snuck over and listened at the door, and he was saying, “Well, I don’t want him here, I can’t afford another mouth to feed, and he’s not MY kid, so you get him the hell out of here tomorrow!” She said, “But I haven’t seen him for four years, and I’m sure he won’t mind buying some groceries, anyway.” He said “No, with him around, you’re wasting the food, look at how you burned up dinner already, I just want him out of here!” She started to say something else, and then I heard a kind of a smack, and a thump, and Mom stared crying. I hauled off and kicked the door and it came open with a bang, hanging by one hinge. Mom was on the floor with a nosebleed, crying through bubbling blood. Francis was standing there in his drawers, with both fists clenched. I stepped right up to him, nose to nose, and said, “I’m pretty sure Parkinson’s doesn’t cause nosebleeds.” Then I hit him in the pit of the stomach with everything I had. Everything in his stomach came up and all over me, so I gave him another good one right under the chin. He went out like a light. I took Mom into the bathroom and got her cleaned up. I then called a cab, helped her pack her clothes, and sent her to the nearest motel. When we got settled in, we stripped down, had a shower, and instead of wanting to go to bed, she asked me if I would take her for a ride on the bike.
We got on the bike with her behind me on the big seat, and she reached around me, and squeezed my cock. She said “I always wondered what it would be like to be a biker babe, can I be yours for a while?” I said “You sure can, what do you want to do?” She said “For one thing, I want to say what I’m thinking the way that I think it, so the next time we stop, I’m going to suck that cock and I want you to eat my cunt the way we used to back when you were in high school. I want to lick your balls and have you fuck me between the tits the way they do it in those porn films. I want to be the dirtiest whore you ever saw, but only for you.”
It was about 1:00 am, we swung in to a rest area, and stopped the bike near a picnic table. I unzipped my fly, and she started sucking my cock. When I came, she started to pull away, but then started swallowing and sucking until I thought she was going to pull one of my balls out through my cock. When I finished, she said, “My God, I can’t believe how good I feel, I’ve been a dirty whore all my life, I just couldn’t make myself admit it. You know, I used to spy on my parents when they fucked, and I would play with my clit and pretend that Daddy was fucking me. I even sneaked into the bedroom once after he had been drinking and played with his cock, but he was out cold and it wouldn’t get hard. After that, I got scared that someone would find out and decided that I was a good girl, but I see now that I love fucking and everything about it. I just look at you and I want to fuck, been that way since you were just a kid. Maybe it’s partly because you’re my son, and maybe because you’re so handsome— to me, anyway.” I said, “I feel the same way, Mom, I think about fucking you all the time, but we can’t stay here with what I just did to Francis, and we can’t move back to Manchester, because a lot of people know us there, so how about we move to Portland and set up housekeeping there?” I rented a Uhaul truck for my bike and her stuff, and Two weeks later, we were installed in a small apartment on India St, and I had a job at the Lincoln-Mercury garage on Forest Ave in Portland, Maine.