No Memory, No Regrets

All characters in this story are at least eighteen years old.

NO MEMORY, NO REGRETS

One

I’m the youngest of five children and it’s true that the youngest is the kid where the least number of fucks are given. I got away with whatever I wanted, and Mom and Dad basically gave up being any sort of strict with me long ago. That said, Mom seemed to have given up on life in general. It seemed she couldn’t get through a night without the aid of wine. This was a habit that began after my third oldest sibling left the house and intensified after my next oldest sibling left. The weekends became prime for over-imbibing.

I never really minded it except she would get chatty and touchy. I never thought much about either of those as she was funny and spoke about things she would not normally discuss with me or anyone else. We sometimes had great conversations that were funny, deep thinking, and thought provoking. I would shamefully find myself hoping she would drink so I could hang out with her and just… talk.

I paint a gloomy picture of her, but she’s not a drunk. You would probably classify her more as a functioning alcoholic. She would wake in the morning and seem perfectly fine. She would be chipper and energetic, which goes against everything I’ve ever heard about hangovers. At eighteen, I wasn’t well versed in the ways of partying, but anyone could look at Mom at the end of a Friday or Saturday night and assume she would be down for the count all weekend. No, that couldn’t be any more inaccurate. Saturday was often a repeat of the day before.

I never connected one conversation with another, so I never knew that she often had no memory of certain nights that we spent time together. I soon found out that some events, while vivid in my mind for ages to come were dismissed into oblivion by the next morning in hers.

The night it all began, I came home after watching a school football game. It was about eight that night when I plopped down next to Mom on the couch.

“Hi Mom, whatcha watchin’?” I asked, attempting to start a conversation.

“I don’t even know, it’s on Lifetime and it’s stupid,” she slurred in an annoyed tone.

She looked around for the remote before angrily giving up.

“Can you find the remote? I’m going to get another drink,” she said as she stood up slowly, regained her balance, and stumbled to the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and searched for the remote. I found it between one of the cushions and opened the guide on the cable box and began scrolling through the channels. I found a movie I liked that just started and tossed the remote on the coffee table. Whenever I think about how it all went down, I always pinpoint that moment as the thing that started it. I liked the movie, but I failed to remember everything about it and that led to the life changing events that would transpire.

Mom came back with her drink, and I knew how hammered she was because her drinks had gone from half to full glasses, then just flat out forgoing the wine glasses in favor of higher capacity cups. She resumed her previous position and began sipping her new drink.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A movie I liked that I haven’t seen in a while. You might like it!” I said without moving my eyes away from the screen.

We sat there for about an hour before I looked over and noticed her drink was empty. She was leaning against me as she watched the movie.

“Would you like me to get another drink for you, Mom?” I asked.

She looked over to her empty glass, “No, I don’t have anymore, but that’s fine,” she slurred out.

Her speech was slurred, but I had no indication that there was anything more happening inside. When she put her head in my lap, I didn’t think much of it. The movie was about to go into a steamy sex scene that I had forgotten about, and I was nervous about reacting while Mom was laying on me like she was. Before long, the scene was upon us.

A cheating husband was exerting control over a co-worker as they worked late. He had already ripped her panties off and lifted her skirt. She was egging him on to fuck her. The angle of the camera allowed you to see the strong ripples on her ass as he slammed into her from behind. I was watching intently, trying not to have a response that Mom could feel. I was shocked out of my focus when Mom finally spoke.

“That’s pretty fuckin’ hot,” she said as she stared continuously at the TV.

I lost my battle and felt my cock begin to respond. I was in full panic mode when Mom spoke again. There was nothing I could do to get me out of the awkward situation I knew was about to happen.

“Seems like you agree,” she said. Again, without any change of position. I tried to think of anything else, but the scene on the TV persisted and the sounds of hot fucking overrode any contradicting thought I could muster. I considered excusing myself to go to bed but with Mom’s brazen remark, I didn’t want her thinking I was going to go jerk off, even though I probably would have.

I was in the middle of debating my next move when Mom made my decision for me. She lifted her head up and began to fumble with my zipper.

“Here, I’ll take care of that for you,” she said just as she fished my cock out of my pants. She was clumsy with it and scrapped the head against the teeth of the zipper. I cringed as it happened but before I could recover, the painful sensation that was there was erased by her warm mouth. Mom was sucking my dick in the living room with Dad just down the hall sleeping.

“Mom,” I whispered trying to figure out what was happening. My hope was that reminding her of who I was might snap her out of whatever she thought she was doing.

She continued to slowly bob her head up and down on my cock. I tossed my head back against the couch as she worked my cock into a frenzy. I wasn’t going to last long. That wasn’t the first blowjob I ever had, but everything about it was next level and was blowing my mind. Seconds passed before I felt my balls tighten. I knew nothing about how to handle Mom in this situation, so I took the safe route.

“Mom, I’m going to cum,” I informed her.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth while still stroking it, “Cum in my mouth and don’t make a mess.”

Her tone was plain and lifeless and gave me nothing as to what she was thinking or if she was even thinking at all. She put my cock back in her mouth and as soon as I felt her tongue on my shaft, I began to shoot in her mouth. I quickly looked down and watched her lock her lips around me and squeeze me with her hand tightly and began to milk to cum out of me.

My hips jerked as the first shot blasted into her mouth. I could hear her begin to swallow as the next load began to fill her mouth. A third and fourth shot quickly followed. I could feel the white, gooey fluid dropping onto me from her mouth. When she was done, she released me. I was sure she would have realized what just transpired and the shit would hit the fan.

“Next time, you’ll have to last longer. Not sure what was going on there,” she said as plainly as everything else that night. “Shit, I got half of it on my shirt!” she said as she pulled her shirt out and stared down at it.

It dawned on me that there was a significant chance she thought I was Dad. She may also have had no concept of what she was doing. She tucked my dick back into my pants and shocked me with her next statement.

“Looks like the movie is over, Jeremy. I’m going to go to bed. Don’t stay up too late,” she said as she slithered off the couch.

I watched her walk away and for the first time in my life, I really watched her. Mom had always been Mom and not a woman I could relate to on a sexual level. My head turned watching her walk out of the room and I became hard again. I didn’t even wait. I pushed my pants down and freed my cock. I slowly rubbed it thinking about what just happened.

“Mom sucked my dick,” I whispered to myself.

The pace of my strokes increased as I began to think of Mom in a way that I never did before. I tried imagining her standing naked in front of me. Every detail was there. I pictured her standing in front of me with a hand on her hip and staring right into me. She stood there, average height, short brown hair, tits that were a bit bigger than you would expect from a smaller woman, and in my imagination, completely shaved between her legs, though she probably didn’t.

“Fuck me, Jeremy,” I imagined her saying. I shot my load as soon as I imagined those words leaving her mouth. There wasn’t much, but what did come out dribbled over my hand and pooled at the base of my cock.

I sat there thinking about everything that happened and felt myself drifting off. I snapped out of it and quickly stood up and made my way to my room. I chuckled lightly to myself at the prospect of being discovered in the living room; pants around my ankles and my floppy cock out in the open with dried up cum all over it.

I quietly closed my door. I was still in disbelief at what happened in the other room. I replayed the event over and over in my mind. Suddenly, the idea that she would remember everything that happened thrust me into a panic about what she would say or do to me. I laid there thinking about how the following morning could unfold.

I marveled at the possibility of picking up where we left off. I was terrified of the words my own mother would say to me.

Two

I was jolted awake by a loud and rapid knock at my door. Initially I was sure it was just a preparatory knock before she walked in on her own accord, but she evidently had no intention of barging in.

“Wake up, sleepy!” she said jubilantly.

“I’m up!” I announced, still amazed at her resilience and motivated by her exuberant tone.

Everything that happened the night before came rushing back to me once again. I recalled watching her head moving slowly up and down as I felt the warmth of her tongue and lips as they massaged my cock. I was getting hard knowing that twelve hours before that, my mother took a load of her son’s cum in her mouth. I stroked myself thinking of every moment of that scene. It was the slow movement of her mouth along my shaft that created the buildup. The fact that she had every intention of swallowing my cum is what put me over the edge.