Time Waits for Someone

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 AND ABOVE.]

[WOMEN OF A CERTAIN AGE OFTEN FACE SOME TOUGH DECISIONS ABOUT THEIR HEALTH AND THE CONCEPT OF THE WHOLE WOMAN; SOMETIMES EVENTS IN LIFE FORCE THEM TO ACCEPT CHANGES THAT MEAN THEY ARE COMPLETE NO LONGER; THIS STORY ADDRESSES THAT, AND SHOWS THAT THESE EVENTS ARE NOT NECESSARILY AN ENDING; IF THIS DISTURBS YOU, THEN PLEASE STOP HERE; THANKS]

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I was still living at home, though I had passed the 18 year barrier. My loving mother, Sue, had never had a stopwatch, ticking the time off before I was kicked out, but her 'old man', Mal, sure did. The only reason I was still there was that I was paying rent on my pathetic little bungalow, attached to the garage and separate from the main house. My only communication to the main house was a little intercom we got at Toys'R Us. So, one night I heard the tone indicating it was on, but then only sobbing. Curious, I ran in.

The sounds were emanating from my parents' room. Getting there, I saw my mom in bed, her hands covering her face, the sheets strewn across the room. It took 15 minutes of me holding her to calm her and find out what happened. After she filled me in, I wished I hadn't heard it.

My father was 60, bald, a bit of a blob. My mother was 48. If you looked really closely, you could see that she at one time was attractive and could be again. She had put on the marital 20 pounds, and that made most overlook her still fantastic legs, beautiful smooth feet, and very impressive bust. Ah, it was that bustline that was the rub. She was always proud that she wore a 36D bra, and filled it to the bursting point.

Her world was shattered when her doctor told her that a procedure was necessary, unavoidable. Both sides of her would have work done, but one side was going to be 'radical' with no options. She related this to her 'loving husband' whose demeanor changed like a light switch.

Mal: "So, they are going to cut you up, and I am supposed to ignore that and pretend that you are still a woman?"

Sue: "I WILL still be a woman! Only the coldest and most superficial man in the universe would think otherwise! Are you saying because of this, you want to call it quits?"

Without commenting, he left the house.

Two hours later, he returned. As he drunkenly tried to park the car in the front, he hit our own mail box. Walking with difficulty, he brought in his receptionist. She was young and chubby, but she was willing to go, drink for drink, with him and do what he asked. What he asked tonight was to show his wife (my mom) in her own home what a 'complete woman' looked like. (As my mom told me this, she understandably stopped often to sob; I ended up holding her hand throughout.) To mom's shock and amazement, they barged into the 'marital' bedroom and drunkenly pawed at each other. Mom's old man Mal opened that slattern's blouse and bra, showing the ugly, saggy, droopy boobs of this trollop, emphasizing the DUAL nature of them. Just as quickly as they entered, they left. He hit the mail box again as he was leaving to take her home.

As mom sobbed uncontrollably, I held her. To hold an emotional person takes strength, real strength. I had worked in construction, and I thought I was strong as a bull after two summers of that. Bulging biceps and all, my strength was still put to the test in trying to hug and comfort mom.

The date having been set for some weeks, mom had to go ahead with the procedure the next day. Of course, her worthless 'old man' was not there to be with her. He had not even come home after that night with his receptionist. The doctor was surprised that her son and not her husband was there, but the surgical team proceeded. Although the surgeon almost ran out of time, all went perfectly. After the procedure, as much time or more was spent on getting her ready for the aftermath. I eagerly participated too.

To mom's utter amazement, when she arrived at her private room, I showed her the large coterie of things I had already bought for her at a special store which included such things for women who had that 'procedure' and radical removal.

She was under strict orders not to move unnecessarily or anything else, but she insisted that I go sit in the corridor while she tried some of the new things on. She called me back. She asked how she looked, her eyes teary.

I have to admit, I did not look closely. I was afraid of how I would react. There was no way, no power on earth, that would have me do anything but tell her she looked great.

Mom thanked me, though women know where men's eyes wander...or don't wander. She was disappointed that she hadn't passed any tests, though touched that I was so loving as to reinforce her at this sensitive moment.

I had been told by the nutritionist that my mom was only eating the minimum food provided; she was concerned.

I joked that given hospital food, I myself would choose to go hungry. But, I told her that I would ask about that.

Mom was evasive about the subject. I was afraid she was starving herself in some indirect means of giving up; however, the truth was quite the opposite. Those extra 20 pounds that she had taken on in marriage had always bothered her and she figured now was as good a time as any to get rid of them.

Mom got released from the hospital after a few days of recovery and 'observation' (hospitals' favorite buzzword for increasing your stay unnecessarily.) When we got home, we were staggered to see that the locks had been changed; mom was not only unwanted but couldn't get into her own home.

I wisely recommended that we contact her attorney. They just as wisely documented the house being locked and the fact that I had helped mom out during this medical crisis and not him. They said that just that alone would turn a jury or judge in our civil action.

We did prevail in the civil divorce proceeding. When that little tramp of dad's was put on the stand as a 'hostile witness' and related that night when they humiliated mom, our counsel told us to back up the Brinks truck, the jury was looking red-faced. Sure enough, mom got 90% of the community property and all of her assets from pre-marriage. What that ended up being: she got the home, the banks accounts and his small chain of pizza restaurants. He got 10% in cash.

To celebrate the divorce and victory in court, mom asked, pleaded in fact, that we go on a vacation, just the two of us.

I said: "okay. I'm packed. May I ask where to? And what's with the birth certificates?"

She said, "Stop asking so many questions; just help me with my bags."

So, there we went. Mom handled the tickets. Just to keep the mystery going, I didn't even look up at the display at the departure gate which clearly showed our destination.

As we circled for landing, the sights on the ground were unmistakable. We were in Vegas, baby. We were whisked off to Wynn's second hotel, checked in amidst the incredible hub-bub and din that typified the Vegas hotel scene.

Our room was spectacular. After we had landed and waited for luggage, I had called the hotel, telling them of our 'special circumstances'. I lied only a little, telling them we were a married couple, with mom just getting over that 'procedure'. Well, I happened to know this hotel group, and I knew they would come thru. Sure enough, we had the bridal suite, with a breathtaking view of the Vegas cityscape.

We went down to hit the games in the gigantic lobby. Mom wanted to play her favorite, so she hit the slot machines. I didn't like 'one armed bandits', so I hit the fairer games, roulette and craps. At least on those, the odds are almost 50/50. Sure enough, I won $5,000 at roulette. I went over to blackjack and, of course, lost $500 in just two hands. That female dealer was cool as ice. I still wonder how they could always draw what they needed...oh well...

After a few hours of this, I rounded up mom, her tub of quarters considerably smaller than when she started. We partook of one of the famous chef restaurants in the lower mezzanine, had a scandalous fried Twinkie at one of the vendors, and then retired to our room.

We got into the room and wordlessly joined hands. Looking out over the breathtaking Vegas city scape, the twinkling lights in the bay window resembled some perfect 1080p 200 inch TV monitor. We looked at each other; for the first time ever, I kissed my still beautiful mother. The fact that she was now divorced, 48, and had just had a serious 'procedure', made her MORE desirable to me, not less. I picked her up in my powerful arms.

I carried her to the giant round bed, lowered her down, our lips still passionately locked together. We broke the kiss. I stood up as mom bounced up, kissing me on the cheek, telling me she'd just be a second.

Now, remember (if you are keeping score at home), I had never had even the slightest thing to do with my mom other than being her 'good little boy'. Why, she had stopped even kissing me after I turned 13. The fact that I was her sole supporter, her surrogate husband as it were, didn't necessarily mean that anything was going to happen tonight. So, with uncertainty, I got ready for bed, prepared for the anti-climactic ending of our night with some needed sleep.

Emerging from the incredibly lavish and immaculate bathroom, mom emerged in her nightgown from her original honeymoon, along with some of the things that I had bought for her for her 'changed' body.

I was stunned. First of all, that hospital 'hunger strike' by mom was just part of her crash diet; she wanted so much to return to her former figure...for me! She had dropped those marital 20 pounds, and a few more. Now she stood there, her figure again a spectacular 36D-25-37. Since the 'replacement' part of her was the exact (i.e. mirror) image of the other one, then her old measurements still applied. Her nightgown type was carefully designed to be opaque on one side but diaphanous on the other. Her other side appeared underneath all of that material to be the exact same as the other, but mom's remaining real asset...my God. The most beautiful breast I had ever seen, in or out of Playboy. [Years later, mom asked me if I would have felt the same about her if the procedure had been performed on both sides; I told her I would've loved her just the same. I meant that sincerely.]

I tore open the nightgown to reach that perfect breast. As she vigorously stroked and moved my thick hair about my head, I fastened a hungry mouth to the popped nipple on that perfect orb. Mom's eyes teared up, as she never dreamt after her ex-husband's cruelties and that procedure that a man would be at her breast.

I might have been a muscle-bound construction yard punk, but I knew that mom's upper outfit had to be honored and left intact. The rest, though, were history. The nightgown had balloon pink pants with elastic at the base. They were too hard to get off so I ripped them off. With a noisy click clack, her two fluffy pink slippers fell off her gorgeous soft feet, crowned with ruby-red painted toenails and the sexiest little ankle bracelet. Mom had REALLY gone all out. That sexy blue flower tattoo that every single Hollywood babe from Heather Locklear to Christina Applegate had on her ankle she had burned on her right ankle as well.

So here was my 48 year old mom. Sure she loved me as a son. I proved my love to her 1,000 times over during this divorce crisis and medical operation and recovery. Now, though, I was confronted with my rejuvenated super sexy mother. She had shed her excess tonnage and returned to her optimum weight. Her figure was restored to a Barbie Doll-ish 36D-25-37. All of this had restored her showgirl quality tanned shapely legs, slender ankles and sexy smooth feet. Even her breast as it stood out there was the most exciting thing I had ever laid eyes upon. So, now what? We were still mother and son; we were just sharing a hotel room and having some naughty fun. Innocent fun.

Confused, I sat at the edge of the round bed.

Mom asked: "What's the matter, Jimmy? Don't you want to have fun tonight?"

I said: "Sure, in a second, but I was wondering where we, where you will be in a year, 5 years, 10 years...I don't have an answer for that and I worry that I can't always be there to help you."

Mom said: "Well, honey, there IS one way that you COULD be sure you were always there for me. The one way that people for years have done it...remember, after the divorce court gave me my maiden name back and I got that new driver's license ID, there would be no way that, say, a Vegas marriage business would know that we shouldn't marry. How about THAT, sweetheart?"

I said: "I don't know...that's going a bit far, I mean marrying my own mom?"

I would never forget it...never. Mom pushed me back on that round bed. Climbing onto the bed perpendicular to me, she began almost cooing to me about how marrying her would bring us both ecstasy. Meanwhile, she deftly used her gloriously bare feet to treat my cock to one of the most exciting 'footjobs' that anyone has ever had. One beautiful foot supported and held up my huge scrotum while the other sexy red toed smooth foot was rubbing up and down the long, throbbing diamond hard shaft. My eyes closed in passion as her words linked up with the exciting strokes of her gorgeous soft feet.

Mom said: "You know Jimmy, I am 48 but I can still get pregnant. You know, if you were to decide to go to the lower mall and marry Sybil (mom's legal maiden name), we could come right back up here. We would make passionate love. Your big cock would flood my still very fertile womb with millions of your potent sperm. To make sure of pregnancy, we would make love continually throughout the night. Time and time again, your cock would swell with bliss as you expressed your marital pride by ejaculating your precious seed deep deep inside of me. My treasured ovum would be assaulted by that virile tidal wave, with three or four of those wondrous sperm alighting on that egg. The fertilized egg would attach itself to the wall, and you would have gotten me pregnant. Our first child, our first children on their way. Would you like that, Jimmy? Making a baby with your loving mommy, your new wife? Knowing her belly was swelling with the life you put in there? Knowing that that breast would be engorged with sweet, warm, mother's milk. Would you like that, too? Would you want to drink that milk, like melted ice cream, when the baby was asleep? With just a drag of the tongue and draw of your lips, that warm aphrodisiac, breastmilk, would fill your belly as it did our baby. That milk would have a magical effect on you, making you rock hard, ready to fuck another baby into MY belly, if that was still possible. Anyway, all of this will happen, IF you marry me!"

About half-way thru her little speech, I had gotten hard as a stone, my ten inch cock about to burst. Given the choice of returning to my lonely little apartment, my love life consisting of the occasional bar pickup but mostly the monthly Playboy and the subscription to the Spice channel—OR—choosing my beautiful, loving, still fertile mom? I had to think a long time.

After that long time (close to ten seconds), I picked mom! We got dressed and zoomed down to the marriage booth. They were closed for an hour, so we tried some of the other 'food' vendors in the lower mezzanine mall, from fried bugs (not bad, really) to fried pickles (and some people adore them?)

At the marriage booth, we showed credit card, hotel registry, birth certificates and our new driver's licenses. Well, I am happy to recount that the Patriot Act didn't catch us in its labyrinth of ID checks. We were officially married.

Just like mom predicted, we got hitched, we zoomed back upstairs, I carried mom to that bed; she got ready. I got mom on her back, legs spread, and her excitement very evident. I entered her, the heat incredible inside. I pushed in and down, gently rolling her forward to that he legs were atop my shoulders, ankles banging against my ears. I kissed her beautiful right foot below her sleazy and oh so sexy tattoo, and then concentrated on the breeding work ahead of me.

Throughout all of this, I had taken no note nor cared at all about the change that had occurred to my beautiful mother. Everything was so well designed that laying atop her, everything felt symmetrical and right. My 48 year old newlywed wife and loving mother moaned in pleasure as my enormous ten inch love tool sawed away at her insides, tingling and rubbing against the sensitive vaginal walls. When we stopped, we compared wedding bands and kissed until she shook in orgasm. I joined her for the first time, simultaneous and with love. My powerful tool was right up against the cervix. The tiny slit opened to the size of a bottle cap and released a spray of sperm-laden semen with tremendous force, actually causing mom to wince. Seven more times that tool jetted its baby-making seed, that potent babybatter washing over and into the cervix and filling the womb to capacity. Exhausted we lay there under the covers, the bay window overlooking Vegas aglow with white and orange lights. As we lay on our sides facing each other, mom grabbed my still rock hard cock and put it inside of her. There we slept.

During the middle of the night, mom had a panic attack. Feeling herself on the 'wrong side', remembering all that took place recently, she was frightened that I didn't love her; that I would desert her. She woke me up.

Mom: "Jimmy, I am so very sorry to wake you, but, will you, can you, love me, right here, right now!?!"

I said: "I should be mad, but I DO love you, mom. How can I prove it to you? Well, this won't prove I'll stay with you always, but maybe you can sleep a little better tonight." With that, I mounted mom, using my 'morning wood' as a quick and easy way to get it done. Sure enough, I came deep inside of mom within three minutes. Once again, mom took no action to empty or clean out my cum, letting it 'cook away' inside of her.

As we lay together, mom kept murmuring: "I love you so much; please stay with me. Don't leave me, please, Jimmy. I wish I could be sure of your love—that something would lock us and link us together forever."

It was no guarantee, of course, but later that night, actually the early morning, mom conceived our first and only child. We had indeed proven our love and sealed it together forever.

We went back to the home that we had had. Our neighbors knew that we lived together, but they didn't know we slept together, or that we were legally wed. OK, sure, some of mom's friends figured it out, if they weren't told outright. Eventually, everyone around there DID know, but given the circumstances, not a single person ever voiced a word to the wider world or expressed outrage or scandal.

Six weeks after returning from Vegas, I was back at construction work while mom was CEO to those two remaining pizza outlets that she had won at divorce court. We actually got them up and running, doing okay in fact. Then, mom got a call from the manager that she had to come to the unit and enter from the service door. She went there; it was 3pm, so no one was dining.

In the main room was a job applicant. She was a squat, chubby chick wearing a too tight dress, too low cut, and her drooping things almost gorilla-like. She was responding to the ad out front for delivery people, a minimum wage job. The manager of course acquiesced to mom's order to not hire her.

The fat little blob oozed out the door. Mom HAD to look, and there Mal, her 'ex', was! Sure enough, the Mercedes 350E he had been leasing thru the restaurants was now gone, as was his job as CEO. Now, he waited for his chunky girl friend (who admittedly did have two of them, even if they were around her knees). Mom wondered how he had gotten a black eye (turns out it was a fight at the trailer park) and particularly admired his 1983 K-car. Its green paint was still factory, the engine barely putting out much smoke, that huge crack in the windshield hardly a concern.