My Mother Asked Me for Something I Couldn’t Refuse

My mother hadn’t smiled in three weeks. Since my father left home one morning in March, with nothing more than a folded note on the table, Carolina spent her afternoons staring at the living room ceiling as if somewhere in a crack she would find the reason a man leaves a forty-four-year-old woman for an office intern.

I had finished school in December. I had a confirmed spot at university for March of the following year and, in the meantime, I devoted myself to doing what I could: cooking, cleaning, keeping her company. My father had offered me a room in his new apartment, but I answered with a three-word message: “No, thanks, Dad.” My place was with her.

That Friday I finished washing the dishes after eleven. The house smelled of the stew my mother had made, the first in a week. I thought that was a good sign. Then I heard the sobs from the living room.

—Mom? —I said, drying my hands on the dish towel.

She was curled up in a corner of the sofa, legs tucked under her, the blue silk robe buttoned to the neck. Her black hair hung loose over her shoulders and her green eyes were flooded, shining like two olives in oil.

—I’m fine, Mateo —she lied.

I sat beside her. I put an arm around her and she laid her head on my shoulder. She smelled of the perfume my father had given her on her last birthday, the one she really shouldn’t have still been wearing.

—You’re not fine.

—I started thinking about him again. About what he told me when he left.

—What did he say?

It took her a moment to answer. Then she let out a bitter, joyless laugh.

—That he didn’t find me attractive anymore. That at forty-four a woman loses something you can never get back.

I clenched my jaw. I knew my father well enough to imagine him saying exactly that, with the same coldness he always mistook for honesty.

—That’s a lie.

—Is it? Look at me, Mateo. Be honest. Am I really so ugly that a man would prefer a twenty-five-year-old girl with a face that looks like she’s never slept well a day in her life?

—Mom, no.

—Be honest with me. That’s all I’m asking.

I looked at her. Really looked at her, for the first time in a long while. The wet eyelashes, the curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone peeking out from the opening of the robe. My mother was a beautiful woman. I’d heard my high school friends say it for years, in low voices, with that nervous laugh eighteen-year-old boys have when they discover mothers can be attractive too.

—You’re beautiful —I said.

—Really?

—My friends always said so. That you had…

—I don’t care what your friends said. —She lifted her head and looked me straight in the eye—. Do you think I’m beautiful?

I felt heat rise in my face. The question carried a weight I hadn’t expected at eleven at night, on the living room sofa, with my mother crying.

—Yes.

—Sexy?

I swallowed. I nodded.

I shouldn’t be answering this.

—Then kiss me.

—What?

—Kiss me, Mateo. If you really think I’m sexy, prove it. A kiss. That’s all.

—Mom…

—If you don’t, I’ll know you were lying to me just to get me to stop crying. And that will hurt even more.

The logic was a trap and we both knew it. But I was nineteen and my mother was shattered, and the idea of her falling asleep that night convinced she was invisible seemed worse than anything else. I leaned in and gave her a short kiss on the lips. Closed-mouthed, almost childish. Then I pulled away.

—There.

She didn’t move. She looked at me with a new expression, one I had never seen on her face before.

—That wasn’t a kiss.

—Mom…

—Let me show you how you kiss a woman.

She grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me for real. Her tongue entered my mouth with an urgency that had nothing to do with the pain of the sofa or my father or the intern. It was the kiss of someone who had gone far too long without being touched and had suddenly found a body willing to take her in. Her tongue searched for mine, wrapped around it, sucked it slowly. I felt her teeth bite my lower lip, tugging it outward, and a thread of saliva hung between us when she pulled back for a second to breathe and then devoured my mouth with even more hunger.

She gave me back the kiss with her tongue before I could decide whether I wanted to return it. When we parted, both of us were panting.

—That’s a kiss —she murmured.

I had an erection I couldn’t hide under my pajama pants. My cock pressed hard against the fabric, throbbing. She noticed. She lowered her gaze and then raised it again slowly, with a smile I had never seen on my mother’s face. Then she stretched out a hand and squeezed me over my pants, measuring me, weighing me, biting her lip when she felt how hard I was.

—Come to my room.

—No —I said. But my voice came out weaker than I wanted.

—Why not?

—Because you’re my mom.

—Exactly. That’s why it won’t hurt anyone. There’s no one else in this house, Mateo. There hasn’t been anyone else in this house for three weeks.

She stood up from the sofa and held out her hand. The blue robe had opened a little. I saw the beginning of her breasts, the shadow between them, the curve of her stomach that her gynecologist called “an adult woman’s body” and that my father had stopped looking at.

I took her hand.

I wasn’t thinking.

***

Carolina’s room still smelled like her Friday perfume, even though she slept alone now. She closed the door behind me and locked it. Then she untied her robe without any drama, as if it were just another ordinary night, and let it fall to the floor.

She had nothing underneath.

—Do you like me?

It was hard to speak. The lamp on the nightstand threw light over her heavy breasts, with the dark erect nipples pointing forward, over her wide hips, over her full thighs, over the black trimmed patch between her legs. My mother wasn’t a twenty-five-year-old girl. My mother was forty-four years old and it showed, and that was exactly what made her beautiful.

—Yes.

—Take off your clothes.

I did. I took off my shirt, then my pants. I was left in my underwear, embarrassed, with the obvious bulge of my erection pushing the fabric out, with the wet stain of pre-cum marking the cotton. She came closer, pulled down the last garment with both hands, and my cock sprang upward, hard, red at the tip, throbbing against my stomach. She knelt without thinking, her eyes fixed on it.

—Look at it —she whispered—. Look at yourself. It’s beautiful, Mateo.

—Mom…

—Your father wouldn’t let me do this —she said, looking up at me from below—. He said it was slutty shit.

—Don’t talk about Dad.

—You’re right.

She took my dick in one hand, squeezing the base, and jerked me slowly two, three times before sticking out her tongue and running it along the whole length, from my balls to the head. Then she took the tip into her mouth and sucked as if her life depended on it. She took me all the way in, until I felt the back of her throat hit, and she gagged for a second but didn’t pull away. She went deeper, until her nose touched my stomach. When she drew back to breathe, her eyes were watery and a thread of spit dripped from her chin down to her tits.

—You’re so delicious, my love —she panted.

She took me back into her mouth as if she’d been planning it for weeks. Her tongue moved up the side, her lips sealed around the tip, her hands gripping my hips. With one hand she stroked my balls, squeezing them softly, while with her lips she milked me up and down, sucking hard every time she reached the head, making an obscene wet sound every time she pulled me all the way out and took me back in. She looked up at me while she did it, green eyes locked on mine, mouth full of my cock, tits hanging and swaying to the rhythm of her movements. It wasn’t what I had imagined my mother doing, in the few times my mind had made the mistake of imagining it, but it was her. It was her hair between my fingers, her voice asking me not to come yet.

—Not yet, my love. Hold on. I want it inside me, not in my mouth. Not yet.

—Mom, I can’t…

—Yes, you can. Hold on.

She pulled me out of her mouth and kept jerking me with her hand while she licked my balls, one first, then the other, sucking them whole between her lips. I felt I was one second away from cumming on her face and she noticed, because she squeezed the base hard, cutting me off, and stood up.

—Come —she said, pulling me onto the mattress—. I want to feel your tongue.

She settled over me the other way around, knees on either side of my head, and brought my face down to her. Her cunt was wet, shiny, lips swollen and parted, and the smell that reached me was dense, warm, so distinctly hers that it made me dizzy. I didn’t have much experience. My only high school girlfriend got nervous the one time we tried, and we never did it again. But Carolina guided me without a word, moving against my mouth, showing me with her body what she needed.

I stuck out my tongue and licked her from bottom to top, all of her, tasting the salt of her juices, the swollen fold of her clit at the end of the stroke. She let out a rough moan and lowered her hips more, crushing my face against her cunt. I parted her lips with my fingers and slid my tongue inside, circling it, pushing it, pulling it out to suck her clit until her thighs went tight.

—Higher, my love. There. There, don’t stop.

My whole body trembled when she called me that.

At the same time, she bent down and took my cock back into her mouth. We were both at it, devouring each other, she sucking me as if she wanted to milk me dry by force and I buried in her cunt to the ears, my tongue going in and out at the pace she set with her hips. I wrapped one arm around her thighs and with the other I grabbed her ass, sinking my fingers into one cheek, pulling her harder against my mouth.

We stayed like that for a long while. She had mine in her mouth, I had her over me. I sucked her clit with my lips, pinched it between my tongue and my palate, felt her shiver every time I ran the tip of my tongue from side to side. When I slid two fingers inside her and started moving them in and out while I kept sucking her, she let my cock go and gave a muffled scream against the mattress.

—Yes, yes, yes, like that, don’t stop, Mateo, don’t stop…

When I felt her thighs tighten against my temples, I knew she was close. She shoved my head up with both hands and let out a long, low moan, unlike any sound I had ever heard come from my mother. Her cunt clenched around my fingers, pulsing, soaking my whole face, and her hips shook uncontrollably over me for what felt like forever.

***

—Turn around —I told her when I caught my breath.

—What do you want?

—I want to see your back.

She laughed. For the first time in three weeks, my mother laughed. She settled onto all fours on the mattress and arched her waist. I looked at her full, white ass, the deep curve of her back, the black hair falling to one side. Between her cheeks I could see everything: the pink cunt, still shiny with my saliva and her juices, and above it the small dark puckered ring of her asshole.

—There’s something else your father never wanted to do to me —she said, looking back at me over her shoulder—. In all the years we were married. I asked him many times.

—What?

—Come closer and I’ll show you.

I moved closer. She reached her hand back and spread her ass cheeks with a gesture that admitted no translation. Her finger trembled a little, as if she were still embarrassed to ask for it.

—Here —she said, touching her little hole with her fingertip—. I want you to kiss me here first. And then I want you to keep going.

I did what she asked. Without thinking, without filters, without the voice in my head that had been repeating for twenty minutes that this was wrong. I kissed her lower back, the curve of her hip, the beginning of her ass, and then kept going down to where she had asked me. I ran my tongue over her ass, first lightly, then with more pressure, circling around it, pushing at the center. She let out a sound I didn’t know people made.

—Slower —she panted—. Your father never wanted to. He said it was dirty.

—Stop talking about Dad.

—Sorry.

She stayed quiet for a while. I kept going. I buried my tongue in her ass, hard and pointed, pushing in as far as I could, and she moaned and arched her back more to give it to me better. I licked her little hole and went down to her cunt to suck her soaked lips, then went back up, and so on again and again until she started pushing her hips back, forcing herself against my face on her own. I felt her trembling against my mouth, gripping the sheets, whispering to herself words I couldn’t understand. When I ran a finger wet with saliva over her ass and pushed slowly until the first knuckle slipped in, she moaned and spread her cheeks wider with both hands.

—Put it in, Mateo, put it in…

I pushed the whole finger in, all the way. Then I pulled it out and slid in another, now two, turning them inside her, opening her up, while with my other hand I kept massaging her clit. She drove them back in by pushing against my hand, fucking herself with my fingers, panting things I didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand.

—Now —she said—. Please. Put it in me.

—Where?

—Wherever you want. Start with my cunt. Then put it in my ass. All of it. I want all of it.

I settled behind her. I rested the tip of my cock against her cunt and ran it up and down her lips, soaking it all in her juices before pushing. I entered her slowly, carefully, listening to everything her body told me. I felt her open around me, squeeze me, swallow me centimeter by centimeter until my hips slammed against her ass and there was nowhere else to go. Carolina bit the pillow and gave a muffled moan. I stayed still for a long second, waiting for her to get used to it, feeling the heat tightening around me, the way her cunt throbbed inside.

—Move —she asked—. But slow at first.

I did as she said. I pulled almost all the way out and slid back in slowly, feeling every centimeter. Then a little faster. Then a little more. I grabbed her waist with both hands and started fucking her hard, pulling out and driving in in rhythm, hearing the wet slap every time my balls hit her clit. She clutched my wrists with both hands over her shoulder, talking to me with words my mother had never used in my presence, telling me things I didn’t know whether she was saying to me or to the man who had abandoned her.

—Harder, Mateo. Don’t be afraid. You’re not going to break me. Break me, come on, fuck me like I’m a whore, fuck your mother hard…

I obeyed that too. I grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her toward me with every thrust, taking her to the hilt, making her ass slap against my stomach. I slapped her ass and she screamed with pleasure. I slapped it again. With one hand I grabbed her hair and pulled it back, forcing her to arch even more, while with the other I squeezed one breast from underneath, pinching her nipple between my fingers. Carolina no longer said words. Only sounds. Sounds that filled the room where she had slept alone for the past three weeks.

—Now in the ass —I whispered in her ear without stopping—. You asked me for it.

—Yes, yes, put it in there, put it in there, please…

I came out of her cunt. She was soaked in her juices, shining, dripping. I set the tip against the little hole, still open from my fingers, and pushed slowly. The head of my cock worked its way in, pressing against the ring until suddenly it gave and I slipped inside. Carolina screamed into the pillow, half pain, half pleasure, and I stayed still again, giving her time.

—Are you okay?

—Yes. Keep going. Slow. Put it all in. All of it, Mateo.

I pushed in little by little. A centimeter, wait, another centimeter, wait, until I felt it swallow me whole, all the way to the balls. My mother’s ass squeezed me in a different way, tighter, hotter. I started moving, first just barely, rocking, and she began pushing back, asking for more. With one hand she had taken herself to her cunt and was rubbing her clit while I fucked her from behind.

—Faster, faster, come on…

I fucked her in the ass with everything I had. My hips against her ass, the sound of the blows, her fingers rubbing herself in front, my hands grabbing her breasts from behind, pulling her to me. When she warned me she was coming again, I was close too. I asked with a groan if I should pull out.

—No, no, no —she said, gripping me harder—. Not inside. On my face. I want to see your face when you come.

I pulled out. She turned around, sat on her heels and looked up at me with an expression I haven’t been able to forget on any of the nights that came after. She opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue and took my cock with both hands, pointing it at her face. I jerked myself two, three times, and exploded. I finished on her cheek, her neck, her forehead, her parted lips, one thick spurt first, then another, then a smaller one that fell onto her tongue. My mother’s face was washed in my cum, white streaks running from her hair down to her tits. She didn’t move. When I was done, she ran a finger along the corner of her mouth, gathering semen from her chin, and put it in her mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She swallowed what was on her tongue, closed her eyes, and smiled.

—Delicious —she murmured.

***

After that we lay there for a while without speaking. Her on my chest. Me staring at the ceiling of the room that for nineteen years had been the room no one entered.

—Are you okay? —I asked.

—Yes.

—And tomorrow?

—Tomorrow we’ll see.

She rested her hand on my chest. Her face was clean, as if nothing had ever happened. She kissed me on the mouth, softly, without tongue. It was the kiss she used to give me before school when I was seven, except it wasn’t. Nothing was going to be the same anymore.

—Thank you —she said.

—No need.

—Yes, there is. Three weeks ago I felt like nobody. Today I felt like myself again.

She squeezed my hand. I closed my eyes.

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep in my room that night. And I knew she wasn’t going to let me either.