The Most Forbidden Remedy for Mom’s Sadness

My mother had been locked in her room for three months. Since we lost Dad, life inside that house had come to a halt like a clock no one bothered to wind: the curtains drawn at noon, the food tray I left her every morning still untouched by late afternoon, the books stacked unopened on the nightstand.

That Sunday I decided enough was enough.

—Mom, get up. —I pushed the door open without knocking and switched on the hallway light, which cut diagonally across the bed.— You’ve been like this too long.

—Leave me alone, Valeria. —Her voice sounded dull, as if she were speaking from the bottom of a well.

—I’m not leaving you alone. —I sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed her hair out of her face.— Matías and I want you to come have lunch with us. It’ll do you good to get out for a while.

—Your boyfriend doesn’t need to see some depressed old woman at his table.

—Matías doesn’t think you’re some old woman. —I paused on purpose.— And neither do I. You’re hot as hell, Mom, whether you believe it or not. With those tits and that ass, any man would drool.

She snorted, but she didn’t object. I took that as a small victory.

I got up and began opening the drawers of her dresser, looking for something to cheer her up with. My mother had always had good taste in clothes; even after years and after raising Rodrigo and me, her body was the kind of body people noticed without meaning to. Generous hips, a defined waist, huge tits I’d always secretly envied, though I never said so.

—There’s all kinds of stuff in here. —I pulled out a navy-blue dress, dismissed it. Then a silk top rolled up between bras.— When was the last time you wore any of this?

—I don’t remember. —A long pause.— Give yourself whatever you want, daughter. I’m never going to wear it again.

—Yes, you are. —I kept searching until my hands found something that made me stop: a cream lace bra with underwire and cups that, at a glance, looked way too big for me.— Is this yours?

My mother turned her head.

—Of course it’s mine. Whose else would it be?

—It’s just that... —I held it up in front of me and looked at the cups, then at my own chest.— This isn’t going to fit me at all, Mom.

—Don’t exaggerate.

—I’ll bet you anything it won’t fit. —I shot her a challenging look.

Something crossed her face. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it was close enough.

—Try it on —she said—. Let’s see if you’re right.

I turned around, slipped off my shirt buttons, and fastened it on. When I turned to the side mirror, and then back to her, my mother was already half propped up on the pillow, watching me with an expression I hadn’t seen in months.

—It fits you —she admitted.

—It fits me because I’m your daughter. —I looked at myself in the mirror again, surprised myself.— But yours are bigger. You can’t deny it.

—They were bigger —she corrected me—. Everything sags with time.

—Matías doesn’t think so. —I blurted it out before thinking, and the second I said it I saw I’d touched something in her. A small curiosity, almost involuntary, that hadn’t been there that morning.

—What does Matías have to do with anything?

—Nothing, it’s just... —I shrugged.— He gets hard every time you bend over. It shows, Mom. The other day I caught him staring at your ass when you crossed the kitchen, and he had a bulge in his pants he couldn’t hide. I had to take him into the bathroom and suck him off right there to make it go down.

—Valeria, for God’s sake.

—I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Quite the opposite. —I sat back down in front of her.— It means you’re fuckable, that it doesn’t disappear with time. And I don’t mind my boyfriend getting hard thinking about my mother. On the contrary: it turns me on.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away either. I kept searching through the drawer, with no clear purpose anymore, letting silence do its work. That was when my fingers found something I hadn’t expected, buried beneath a pair of rolled-up stockings and a silk scarf: a silicone dildo, long, textured, thick, a size that left nothing to the imagination.

—Mom.

—Don’t say anything.

—I wasn’t going to say anything bad. —I held it carefully, weighing it in my hand.— Just that you’ve got excellent taste. This rubber cock is huge.

She covered her eyes with her forearm.

—You’re just like your grandmother. Nosy and hopeless.

I walked over to the bed with the toy in my hand and sat back down beside her.

—Teach me. —I held it out to her slowly.

—Teach you what?

—How to do it to a man. How to suck him properly, how to ride him. Matías likes that kind of thing and I have no idea where to start.

—You learn that on your own, daughter.

—You’re my mother. The best teacher I could have. —I held her gaze.— Please.

Silence. My mother looked at the silicone dildo as if she were weighing something far more complicated than what I was asking her. Her hands moved slightly on the sheet, a small unconscious gesture.

—This is ridiculous —she murmured.

—It’s education. —I smiled.

Slowly, almost without realizing she was doing it, she reached out and took it. Her fingers closed around it with a familiarity that told me everything I needed to know.

—The frenulum, right below the tip —she began, in a low, almost mechanical voice, while circling the silicone glans with her thumb—. That’s where men feel it most. You lick in circles, press with your tongue, and their legs shake. Then you go down the shaft, slow, with your mouth nice and wet, and you shove the cock all the way to the back of your throat. No teeth. Never teeth.

She brought the dildo to her lips and showed me: she stuck out her tongue and traced a slow circle around the tip, eyes half-lidded, then opened her mouth and took it in slowly until the silicone brushed the back of her palate. She pulled it out again with a string of saliva hanging from her chin.

—Like that. And while you suck him, with the other hand you grab his balls. Gently. You knead them like you’ve got something delicate in your palm. Men come much harder if you touch their balls while you’re sucking their cock.

She began demonstrating again. Her hands moved with a ease I hadn’t expected, and something changed in her posture as she talked: her shoulders dropped an inch, her jaw loosened, and her voice lost the dullness of the past few months. She took it into her mouth again, this time deeper, and pulled it out with a wet sound that clenched my panties without warning.

—How long has it been since you used it? —I asked her.

—Too long. —A pause.— Since before your father died, honestly.

—Then you need it more than I thought. Your cunt must be dried out from not getting fucked.

—Valeria...

—Put it in. —I said it calmly, without any drama.— You’re alone with me. There’s no one else in this house who matters right now. Teach me that too, how an experienced woman would take her man.

Another silence, shorter this time. My mother moved the sheet aside with her free hand and let me see that beneath the nightgown she wasn’t wearing anything. She must have taken her panties off days ago, or maybe weeks ago. She lifted the nightgown to her waist, and there it was: my mother’s cunt, dark pubic hair trimmed, lips swollen and shining. She was wet. Very wet. The hallway light reflected off the dampness on her thighs.

—Look closely —she told me, and parted her lips with two fingers of her left hand—. This is the clit. Before anything goes in, it has to be awake. With your tongue, with your thumb, with whatever. A dry cunt isn’t fucked; it gets hurt.

She brought the tip of the dildo to her entrance and ran it over her clit in slow circles. A low gasp escaped her, a sound she’d been holding in for three months.

—See? That’s how you get it ready. You rub it on the outside until it drips. When it drips, there’s no pain anymore, only hunger.

She lay back, settled herself better on the pillow, and slowly slid the toy inside. The lips of her cunt opened around the silicone and swallowed it inch by inch. Her breathing changed immediately: slower, deeper, freer.

—Jesus —she whispered—. Jesus, Valeria.

—Good?

—It’s been so long... —She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. The rubber cock went in and out with a sticky sound, and with each thrust a new moan escaped her.

I watched her for a moment. Her neck was taut, her lips slightly parted, one nipple peeking above the neckline of the nightgown, hard and thick as a thimble. And on her face there was something that looked a lot like relief, or maybe something before relief: the simple awareness that her body still worked, that not everything Dad had taken with him was irretrievable.

—Do you want me to help you?

She opened one eye and looked at me.

—Aren’t you helping enough already?

—I mean this. —I reached out with clear intent and brushed her wrist.

My mother hesitated. Then she nodded slightly, with a nearly imperceptible movement of her head.

I took hold of the base of the dildo and moved it carefully, slowly, without rushing. The silicone came out slicked with her juices and went back in with a wet smack. With my other hand, without thinking too much about it, I pulled the neckline of the nightgown down until I freed one breast. It was hot, heavier than I’d imagined, with a large dark areola. I took the whole thing in my hand and pinched the nipple between two fingers.

—Valeria —she panted—, what are you doing.

—Helping better. —I pinched her nipple a little harder and she arched her back.— Men go crazy when you play with their tits while something’s fucking them from below. You taught me that yourself.

I pushed the dildo deeper and she let out a guttural moan I’d never heard in that house before. Her hips began rising to meet my hand, searching for the rhythm, and her free hand tangled in the sheets until her knuckles went white from gripping so hard.

—Faster. Please, daughter, faster.

I sped up. My mother’s cunt sucked on the silicone with each thrust, getting louder and louder, more obscene with every stroke. I brought my face to her breast and, without thinking, ran my tongue over her nipple. It tasted like skin and old soap. I sucked it like it was candy, and she buried her fingers in my hair and pulled me against her.

—Valeria, Valeria, Valeria —she repeated, and it wasn’t a reproach, it was a prayer.

She came in a long spasm, thighs trembling and cunt clenching around the toy, and I kept the dildo buried to the hilt while she finished shaking. When she relaxed, I pulled it out slowly. It came out dripping, and a dark stain spread across the sheet beneath her ass.

—Valeria —she said in a broken voice—, I need something else.

—What do you need?

—A cock. —She said it with a frankness that surprised me.— A real cock, hot, one that comes inside. This isn’t enough. After three months, it isn’t enough.

***

I had thought about it many times over the last few months, without telling anyone. Since I caught my brother Rodrigo looking at old photos of Mom on his phone, the screen going dark the second I got close. Since I heard him say her name in a very low voice while he slept on the couch one afternoon, his hand inside his pants. Since I noticed that every time she walked through the hallway in a robe, he waited until she was far enough away to keep looking at her for one second too long, with a bulge in his crotch.

I hadn’t said anything. Not to him, not to anyone.

But now Mom was lying in her bed, cunt open and dripping, hips moving slowly against my hands, asking me for a cock, and I had a certainty I didn’t know exactly how long I’d been holding without naming it.

—What if it were Rodrigo? —I said carefully, measuring each word.

The movement of her hips stopped.

—What?

—I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Mom. Same as Matías, but different. With something deeper inside, something more intense. Hungry. He gets hard for you. I’ve seen him jerking off thinking about you, Mom.

—He’s my son, Valeria.

—I know. —I didn’t look away from her.— That’s why I’m telling you. No one’s going to fuck you with as much hunger as the kid who’s spent twenty years wanting the cunt he came out of.

Silence. A very long silence in which all you could hear was her breathing and the sound of her fingers returning, without her realizing it, to the wetness between her thighs. I saw her hips start moving again, almost without her deciding to, and how she stroked her clit with the pad of her thumb while she thought.

—Does he know anything about this?

—No. But if I send him a message right now, he’ll be here in five minutes with a hard cock.

My mother closed her eyes. Her breathing stayed the same as before I said Rodrigo’s name, maybe a little more agitated. Her finger kept working the clit in slow circles, and her hips kept time.

—You’re a very strange daughter —she said softly.

—Should I send him the message?

A pause that lasted longer than I expected.

—Yes.

I pulled out my phone with my free hand and texted Rodrigo: “Come to Mom’s room. Right now. Don’t ask questions.” I watched the reply dots appear and disappear twice. Then his answer came: “I’m coming.”

Three minutes later I heard his footsteps in the hallway.

—Can I come in? —His voice was unsure on the other side of the door.

—Come in —said Mom.

The door opened. Rodrigo stepped inside and stopped when he saw the scene: Mom reclined, the nightgown hitched to her waist, one breast out, her cunt wet and shining between her spread thighs, the dildo tossed aside on the sheet with a damp ring around it. Me sitting beside her, my hand still near her body. His gaze took a second to process what was in front of him, and during that second he didn’t blink. The bulge in his pants made itself obvious instantly.

—Valeria, what is this?

—What you see. —I stood up and gave him room on the bed.— Mom needs company. Real company. The kind she hasn’t had in three months.

Rodrigo looked back and forth between us. His throat moved when he swallowed. His cock showed so much through the fabric you could make out the head.

—Mom... —he started.

—Rodrigo. —Mom’s voice sounded firmer than I expected. Clearer than in months.— Come here. Take your clothes off.

He approached slowly, as if each step required its own decision. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. He unbuckled his belt and his pants fell to his ankles. When he pulled down his boxer briefs, his cock sprang out hard and heavy, thick, with the head purple and already glistening at the tip. My mother stared at his dick without hiding it, lips slightly parted.

—Jesus, son —she whispered—. It’s just like your father’s.

—Mom.

—Come. Come up here.

Rodrigo climbed onto the bed and knelt beside her face. My mother turned her body and took his cock in her right hand, as if she’d known it forever. She weighed it, squeezed it at the base, and with her tongue licked the frenulum slowly, exactly as she had shown me with the silicone a moment before. Rodrigo let out a rough moan, and gripped the headboard with both hands.

—Suck it, Mom —I said, not realizing I was speaking aloud.

She looked at me for a second with half-lidded eyes, and then took the whole thing into her mouth. My brother’s cock disappeared to the base between her lips, and came back out coated in saliva. She pulled it out, looked at it, licked down the side to his balls, sucked them one by one, and swallowed it whole again. Rodrigo had his eyes closed and his jaw clenched, as if he were trying not to blow his load in three minutes.

—That’s how it’s done, daughter —she said, pulling back for a moment with a string of spit hanging from her lip—. You hold it at the base to keep control, and with the other hand you play with the balls. See?

She kneaded them with her palm while continuing to suck him. Rodrigo started moving his hips toward her mouth, slowly fucking her face, and she let him. When she pulled his cock fully out of her mouth, her chin was dripping and she had a smile I hadn’t seen in months.

—Now come here. Come here. Put it in me.

Rodrigo moved on the bed. He got between her legs, pried her thighs apart with his hands, and looked at her cunt open, still shining from the toy’s orgasms. He ran two fingers over her clit and she arched her back.

—I can’t hold back, Mom. I haven’t been able to for years.

—Put it in me already, son. Break your mother.

He shoved it in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt. My mother let out a muffled cry and dug her nails into his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him against her as if afraid he might get away. Rodrigo began to move. At first slowly, with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the balls. Then faster, more animalistic, the bed starting to bang against the wall.

—Like that, son, like that. Harder. Break me.

—Mom, your cunt... I’ve been dreaming about this for years.

—I know. I know you dreamed about this. Me too, son, me too, oh God, don’t stop.

I stood off to the side, watching. Rodrigo was fucking her with contained violence, and my mother answered with her hips, rising to meet him every time he drove down. Her tits shook with every thrust, bouncing free of the nightgown that had wrinkled over her chest. He lowered his mouth and caught one nipple, and she ran her fingers through his nape to press him harder against her breast.

—Suck my tits, son, suck them like when you were little.

I had my hand inside my pants without even realizing it. My fingers found me soaked. I leaned against the dresser so I wouldn’t fall.

He changed their position without pulling out. He grabbed her by the waist, turned her over, and put her on all fours at the edge of the bed. She let him, her head resting against the mattress and her ass lifted. Rodrigo slid back into her from behind, gripping her hips, and started fucking her with hard thrusts that drew a new moan from her with every удар. His right hand climbed up her back to her hair and yanked her head backward.

—Tell me who I am, Mom.

—My son. My son, you’re my son, my baby, my man.

—Tell me I’m better than Dad.

—You’re better, you’re bigger, you’re the one I need now, fuck me, fuck me, don’t stop.

The sound of Rodrigo’s thighs slapping against my mother’s ass filled the room. I pulled my pants all the way off and sat in the armchair in the corner, fingers already inside me, watching my brother split my mother open. She started trembling. Her arms gave out and her face sank into the pillow, mouth open, screaming into the cotton.

—I’m coming, son, I’m coming, I’m coming.

She came with her whole body, shaking beneath him, ass pushed high and cunt milking his cock. Rodrigo held out for a few more thrusts and then he gave a rough groan too.

—Inside, Mom?

—Inside, inside, all the way inside, fill me up.

He shot himself into her with three final thrusts, each slower than the last, and stayed braced against her back, trying to catch his breath. When he pulled out, a thick stream began to run down the inner side of my mother’s thigh. She collapsed face down onto the bed, legs still open and her son’s seed dripping from her cunt onto the sheet.

They kissed slowly at the end, with something I can’t describe exactly but that looked like mutual recognition: two people who’ve known something for a long time without daring to name it. When Mom wrapped her arms around his neck, a small sound escaped her, almost inaudible, that had nothing to do with sadness.

—Stay a little longer —she asked him—. One more round. Slow this time.

—Step out for a minute —Rodrigo told me without looking at me.

I went out, panties soaked and legs weak.

***

I stayed in the hallway, leaning against the wall, listening without meaning to the sounds filtering out beneath the door. The rhythm soft at first, then more intense, the headboard banging against the plaster, and my mother’s voice, which I didn’t recognize because I had never heard it like that, with that urgency, with that freedom. I slipped my hand inside my pants again and made myself come right there, covering my mouth with my other hand so I wouldn’t scream.

Twenty-five minutes later, silence.

The door opened and Rodrigo came out with his hair tousled, his chest shining with sweat, and an expression that wasn’t exactly guilt, though it wasn’t entirely free of it either. He had put his pants back on but not his shirt. He looked at me for a second without saying anything.

—Are you okay? —I asked him.

—I don’t know yet. —He ran a hand over his face.— And you?

—I’m fine.

—Thanks, Valeria. —He lowered his voice.— Really.

I peered through the half-open door. Mom was lying there, the sheet up to her shoulders and her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Beneath it, her naked body could be made out, her legs still a little apart. But her face was different from at noon, from yesterday, from the last ninety days. The tension she had worn against her skin since Dad died was gone, as if someone had lifted a weight we’d all noticed but no one had known how to raise.

—Mom.

—Valeria. —Pause.— You’re the strangest daughter I could’ve gotten.

—I know.

—And also —she said, turning her head toward me— the one who knows me best. —There was something in her eyes that looked a lot like gratitude, even if neither of us was going to name it that.— Can you open the curtains?

I did. The afternoon light came in all at once, yellow and direct, and Mom closed her eyes for a moment before letting it in all the way.

—I’m hungry —she said—. Do we still make it to lunch?

I smiled.

—We make it.