“I didn’t think it’d ever become this. Back then it was just the need to buy PC parts.”
That’s how I start every story now, when people ask. It makes me sound like a kid who got swept along, not someone who made a decision every single day for twenty years.
His name was Marco. Marco Ferrante, an engineer from Turin 10 years her junior, with a sailboat and a patient way of asking about my mother’s day. I built him out of a stock photo and a half-remembered semester of Italian. It took six months before Mom wired me the money for the graphics card, the board, and the RAM. She thought she was helping Marco through a rough patch with surgery from a burn he occurred at his job. I felt bad for a moment.Then I felt nothing, which was worse, because nothing is easy to build on.
After all at know point was she any semblance of a mother, without my dad’s mom Mimi I wouldn’t even be here. After dad died she just spent his money as she saw fit, and now was my chance to take some of it back. I kept Marco going. Every Sunday, for years, I wrote to my mother as him. Long after the PC was built, long after I’d moved out and gotten real jobs and fake ones, I kept writing. Cara Linda, how was the garden? She’d tell Marco things she never told me, like her knees, the quiet in the house, and how she’d stopped setting the second plate, her desires. We sexted a few times, but nothing more. After my divorce I moved back home with my mother and she’s messaging Marco about how disappointed in me she is.
I wanted to just delete the email account and ghost her when the devil on my shoulder started typing out the message. What if I told you I’m in your city for a 2 hr layover? I hit enter
U serious? Followed by her address
I’ll be home in 5 with a picture of her cleavage.
We always joked if I ever had a layover I’d finally meetup for a true Italian fucking. She was in heat. My personal buzzed. Important client coming over be out asap for next 3 hours.
I’m out of town anyway on a job interview anyway I replied.
I can be there in 11 you better be in position. She knew what to do we roleplayed this in sexting many times. How I’d take her blindfolded ass up until she came at least twice then we could kiss and see one another.
She sent a photo of her in a cupless nightie and a bald pussy and a close up of how wet she was. I knew this was my mother, but I was rock hard before I ever got inside the house. I’m here I messaged her. My cock out on her stairs, no reply. When I get to top of stairs her master bedroom double doors are wide open and she is up against the edge of the bed as told. I take a large forceful lick from her pussy to her ass and she cooos please put it in me. My tubes were tied long ago. Heart racing I line my head up with her lips and she slams it home and shrills out and begins to cum so I just keep slow stroking her while she thrashes and pleads to not stop.
I’ve finally calmed a little so I pick up the pace trying to keep the same long stroke and she starts screaming oh god yes yes don’t ever stop. So I push her stomach to bed and her legs together and fucked her as hard and fast as I could until a third orgasm rolled through her. Slow slow slow let’s kiss now that’s 3 stud.
I’m just afraid how you’ll react when you see my face.
Oh baby I don’t care what you look like. Especially after that
I rolled her on side and kept fucking. Don’t uncover eyes yet, and rolled her completely over and began kissing her deeply instantly while digging her hole out. When she wrenched her blindfolded off, her pussy clenched and I kept thrusting as our climaxes built together and after I came in her she let a long convulsant esque scream yeeeeees baby fuck meeee
She didn’t talk to me again for a month but then approached me with a drink and said care to bring Marco out?
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