Someone for Mom

Someone for Mom

A tale of partnership between mother and son

By Chiara Pepper

Needless to say, the newly-arrived amusement park was a big novelty for that little city; in that backwater, everything was. To play on all the attractions (yes, the same ones found in all carnivals in small towns), get a peck from the pretty girl at the kissing booth, eat all that junk food or make out with the crush in the tunnel of terror, the lines were as long as the boredom of those people. The fair's employees -- few in number but quite attentive -- welcomed the large public with enthusiasm and interest; they never seemed to tire of assembling, disassembling, transporting and explaining to clueless customers how those contraptions (which had been their livelihood for a couple of decades) worked. Satisfied with the public's attendance and money -- which in that shithole would correspond to a single week's stay, the cashier watched with shining eyes the screams, arms waving, children crying and the occasional vomiting. One couple in particular, who insisted on participating in all the attractions, caught the old man's attention. Having seen the money guy that the boy (right after the pair had had a great time on the roller coaster) was approaching the hot dog stand to have a snack, he decide to approach him:

"You two are having a great time, huh?"

"You bet! And that makes us so hungry," the lad replied with his mouth full as he chewed the first bite.

"Speaking of hungry, your girl is a hottie, isn't she? But don't you look a little... young for her?"

"Ha-ha, she's really pretty but she's not my girl, she's my mom," walking away carrying two hot dogs in his hands.

"Oops, sorry kid! Have fun! You two."

The Martinez -- Elena and Juan -- formed an immigrant family that is as cohesive as it is small; being made up entirely of two members: mother and son. The two (beautiful and young) shares their joys, sorrows, dreams and free time whenever they can; and this could be seen from afar. What was far from being perceived from that duo, who were having so much fun, was the underlying tragedy that surrounded that scene.

Five years ago the beautiful family was just as happy but a little bigger. Edgar, the father of the house, died when the roller coaster car the three of them were riding in derailed at an amusement park just like this one. Elena could not bury her husband as she remained in a coma for three weeks. Juan, now the man of the house, took care of the funeral and his mother as he has done to this day. They both decided, as a healing ritual, that it was time to remove the last scab from the wound: a new ride on the damn roller coaster.

Having the mission been accomplished, the two walked home, laughing along the way and completely exhausted from having so much fun. When they entered the house, the mother hugs the boy.

"Thank you, Juanito! Thank you for being like this, for taking care of me."

"I thank you. You are the best mother in the whole world!"

"And what will we have for today?!"

"Pizaaaa!"

Now in their pajamas and after a long and well-deserved bath, the team of two devoured dinner on the couch while some mediocre series played on TV. They remembered the missing father but also all the details of the adventure they just had that night: of the adrenaline of the rides, of how they almost threw up on Ali Baba, of the hardest love apple they ate, and laughed at that guy who thought they were a couple. Looking down at the slice of pizza he was chewing, the son comments:

"That's something I find really strange..."

"The pineapple slices? You don't have to eat them."

"It's not that. It's been five years..."

"But I had understood that you... we had gotten over it," with a suddenly serious expression.

"Mom, it's been five years. Five fucking years. You've never had anyone else."

"It's not true, I have you. I'm not alone."

"I'm not talking about that. You're still so young, so beautiful."

"But I'm fine like this. I swear."

"¿De veras?"

"¡Verdad! You don't need to worry about me. Or are you fed up with me and want to pass me on?" laughing.

"Never! You're my best friend and even when you find someone I'll stay stuck to you."

The inseparable partners say goodbye with a tight hug and go to bed as the next morning was about to bring its own rush.

They both work in the only factory in town. He, as a junior employee; she, in a position of greater responsibility. Despite the long and arduous workdays, the two always have fun at home, recounting the misadventures of the production line, making plans for the future, eating cheap food and watching something casually on TV. Speaking of plans, at that time, Juan was already spending long hours thinking about someone for his mother; what his qualities would be, characteristics to avoid.

"Mark is a good guy but he has problems with his ex-wife. Jake seems like a good candidate but, poor guy, he's so ugly. Stanley is actually a good-looking guy but he seems like a bit of a fag. Gregor... there you have it, Gregor!"

As the boy arrived home that day after Elena, he ran to tell (or suggest) the potential candidate that had passed in his first evaluation. He didn't find his mother in the TV room as usual. Not having found her in the kitchen either, the wannabe cupid decided to look for mom in her bedroom. Realizing through the half-open door that the bluish light of a laptop was the only source of illumination in the dark room, he simply put the imperceptible face in the doorway. What he saw was unprecedented: the mother, without the bottom of her pajamas, touched herself timidly as if she had finally given in to a sin that had been gnawing at her for five years. The lad wanted (whether out of fear, respect or surprise) to move away immediately, but out of a mixture of curiosity and affectionate admiration he remained motionless -- and unnoticed -- until the act ended in sweet, albeit repressed moans. With the same silence that Juan approached, he leaves.

The next day, it was the mother who arrived home later. The young man was on the sofa watching a basketball game. Taking off her torturous shoes, Elena puts the tired feet on her son's lap; without saying a single word, the customary massage had already been requested -- and promptly performed.

"How's it?" she asks to make conversation.

"It smells a little, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"I'm talking about the match, funny guy!"

"Ah, I wasn't paying attention. I was waiting for you to arrive."

"Aww... are you missing mommy that much? He-he."

"Mom, I have a regalo for you."

"A present for me? But my birthday is next month," sitting down with the package in her hands.

Opening the package without tearing the wrapping too much, the woman who was used to her son's pampering is taken by a surprise as big as the one Juan had had the night before.

"Is this a vibrator?!" she asks surprised.

"Top of the line. Full of features," his eyes still fixed on the TV.

"But... but... what kind of gift is this?"

"Mom... it's been five years already. You have needs."

"Is there something I don't know? Were you in my room last night?"

The boy remained silent -- serene but silent. Elena insists:

"But I'm your mother! ¿No te da vergüenza?"

"You are my mother but you are still, above all, a woman. And a young, beautiful and healthy woman."

"Juanito!"

"And alone."

Elena cries. Following the language they had between them, which often dispensed with words, she places her hand on the son's thigh as an inexpressible message of acceptance and gratitude. The boy, in return, strokes his mother's head as an act of comfort and encouragement. After getting a tub of ice cream and two spoons, Juan announces:

"Mom, I was watching the men at the factory. You know, someone who might be nice to you--"

"And as if seeing your mother masturbating wasn't enough, now you want someone to be with me?" joking.

"Seriously, mami. I was thinking, maybe Gregor is a nice guy."

"Yeah, Gregor would be an interesting person if he wasn't already having an affair with the girl from the warehouse."

"Damn! Back to the planning table, he-he."

"You know what? Mommy loves you so much it hurts."

With a kiss moistened by tears, the tired woman leaves for a well-deserved bath and reminds her son:

"And no spying on me through the door, got it?"

"Yes, mamá!"

In the days that follow, as he considers other potential names for his mother, the boy realizes that his gift must have had some positive effect, as he notices the widow is now calmer. Deep down, the man of the house was proud of himself. Thanks to the act of courage and empathy, he felt more like a friend, more mature, more of a man. It was also noticeable that the young lady spent less time with her grown up child after dinner, perhaps because she was more occupied with the new toy. Meanwhile, Juan spent long minutes in bed before falling asleep thinking of a few other select names for a possible stepfather. David, Steve, Carl, and others were included in a list in his notebook. In addition to the evaluations of character, physical attributes and financial commitment, the young analyst could not stop thinking about the sexual unfolding of such encounters. His mother, he thought, was too hot to be wasted on any guy -- wishing that those suppressed moans he had witnessed last night would turn into full, satisfying orgasms. One of those nights, Elena knocks on her son's bedroom door:

"Juanito, still awake?"

"Yes, mom. Anything?"

The lady, in her pajamas, enters the boy's room with the vibrator and its manual in her hand.

"There are some functions here that I don't quite understand. The manual isn't very explanatory."

"Sit here, I'll explain everything to you," replies the specialist who had watched hours of tutorials on the internet on how to use the device.

"I can't believe I'm talking about this stuff with my own son."

"Relax, mom. No problem."

With all the calm in the world, the young instructor goes over all the details of using the device, from the most technical to the most sensual. He tells the attentive student about the use of lubricant (included with the product); the ways -- and places -- of insertion; the vibration modes; the control via Bluetooth; when to recharge the vibrator, among other information.

"And can I stick it... in the back?" she asks, overcome with shame.

"Sure! Both holes. At the same time, if you want."

"Your father never wanted to play behind..."

"Now you can. You can do anything. You deserve it."

Due to the strict upbringing she had received from rigorous parents, Elena barely knew the anatomy of her own private parts, which Juan explains everything about in graphic detail. She understood, with the help of the young tutor, the location of the much talked about G-spot. With the flash course taught by her own son, the mature student feels more confident in using the toy and indulging in solitary nighttime pleasures.

"Now I finally understand how to use the Tembloroso," declares the widow, more relieved.

"Tembloroso?"

"That's the name I gave my little toy, he-he."

"Go enjoy your Tembloroso, mom."

"Have I told you I love you today?"

"That's the seventh time, ha-ha!"

The two say goodnight to each other and head off to their own sleep and dreams.

During that same week, with names coming in and out, the list in the boy's notebook had already become a spreadsheet. All types of attributes including age, contact, marital status, among others were accompanied by a brief evaluation included in the last column. At this point, his mother was already participating in the process; eventually also including and excluding (according to her own criteria) potential candidates. He hadn't told his life partner yet, but Juan already had a new prospect to suggest. On that Thursday, the demanding recruiter decides to personally interview a selected figure: Gary, from the sales department. Telling his mother that he would arrive later, the interviewer and interviewee went for a drink at the bar near the factory. Arriving home, with possible approval, the son runs to tell about his progress. Noticing that the lady had already gone to sleep, he went to his room, when a voice called him:

"Juanito..." from inside her half lit bedroom.

"Yes, mom!" opening the door fearfully (or hopefully) of a new surprise.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Yup! I ate at the bar."

"Will you help mom?" in a sweet, pleading voice.

"Sure! Whatever the love of my life asks for," already heading towards her lying on the bed.

"There's a function here that I'm trying to use, but I can't."

"What function?" interested and supportive.

"¡Ay qué vergüenza!" she thinks, but decides to tell, "Double Penetrating Hurricane. Page five."

"Well, yeah... just insert it in both... 'places'. At the same time."

Seeing that she was staring at him silently as if begging for one more intervention, the young teacher asks, "do you want me to help?"

With a nod from the hesitant lady, the eager (and disconcerted) young man takes the device in his hands and approaches the widow who, in advance, spreads her thighs.

"You put this part here... in the front," returning the toy to his mother.

"Like this?" herself inserting the magical apparatus.

"That's it! The rounded part rests on the clitoris; on the little 'pin' I told you about."

"And the other end goes behind, right?"

"Yep!" trying to maintain his composure.

Having difficulty completing the operation, she looks at the instructor with a look loaded of shame and supplication. "Help mommy?"

"S-sure! What do I actually have to do?" fishing for an obvious answer.

"Insert behind... I have difficulty."

"Hummm... Okay!?" applying a little more lubricant to the other end of the device.

The boy struggles to keep his hands, accustomed to heavy factory work, from shaking with nervousness, shame and lust; the woman, as if in a favorable gynecological position, slightly raises her legs (knees bent) to facilitate the correct placement of the toy. Bringing the tip of the apparatus closer to its eschatological destiny, as if meticulously putting a key in the lock, Juan feels like someone about to open a portal; a portal to paradise (or hell) -- with no return. "Plop," tt sounds when the object is inserted into the pink, humid and inviolate ring.

"Ouch!" she blurts out more out of fright than pain.

"Did it hurt, mom?" worried.

"No. I'm fine. Keep going..."

The cooperating man adjusts the gadget in place as clearly described in the manual.

"You can lower your legs now. Can I turn on the vibrator?" taking the phone in his hand to control the functions of the technological dildo.

"Yes! Double Penetrating Hurricane, please."

Although the boy had grown up with cell phones and all sorts of electronic tools, touching the "Start" button was the most unusual interaction he would have with a machine. A colorful, illuminated animation in the app accompanies the device's complicated vibrations and actions. The woman begins to squirm almost instantly.

"There! Can I go now?" as his soul stirs waiting for a freaking "no".

"No! ¡Quedate!"

The boy remains standing, stonily still, beside the bed.

As the vibrating apparatus does its work, Elena gives herself over to the most corporeal, banal and unprecedented pleasures of her life. The enchanted widow gently shakes her hips; she grabs the sheets as if holding on to avoid being dragged by a hurricane; untranslatable swear words fills the bedroom. Ignoring the son's suggestion, she lifts her trembling legs again. Even though the lad was used to taking billions of photos with his phone (which were never viewed again), the images he records with his eyes far exceeded any image processing technology: his own mother, leaning against the bedpost without the bottom of her pajamas, tossing and turning in pleasure. Hands were firmly planted on the mattress; eyes rolled back as if driving out a demon that had been there for five years; raised legs shaking like branches swept by a hurricane; her fleshy feet dangling agitatedly like fruit on those branches; and a bright, shiny moisture dripping down the sexual apparatus, which blinked frantically.

"Aaaay, I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum, Juanito!"

"Cum, mi vida! Cum hard. You deserve it so much," approaching and holding her hand.

The woman screams in a way that her son had never witnessed. More than moans from a long-delayed orgasm, they are the sonorous expressions of a beautiful woman neglected and beaten by the hardships of life. As a form of surrender, satisfaction and relief, she covers her face with the pillow for a few seconds. The boy lies down beside her -- like mother and son. Without saying a single word, the two (in their eloquent silence) communicate affectionately for several minutes.

Having both recovered from the liberating experience, Juan tells Elena about Gary, the next candidate.

"Yeah... Gary's a good guy. I had forgotten about him," comments the relaxed widow.

"Everything is already planned. He'll come pick you up here next Friday."

"Pues bien, besides being a voyeur, cupid, instructor and vibrator operator, my own son is now my pimp," laughing.

"Well, I don't want to give any spoilers, but the girls at the firm say he's... let's say... well endowed."

"I just hope he's at least as good as Tembloroso."

The next few days go by quickly and Elena and Gary are already talking to each other during breaks at the factory and via text messages. On the day and time set for the date, the young lady dresses and puts on makeup like the princess her son believed she was. It had been years since Juan had seen his mother in high heels and a dress.

"How about that?" asks the perfumed woman.

"Beautiful, mom! Beautiful and hot!" to the widow's proud laughter.

Hearing the car arrive, the boy recommends, "Have fun, girl!"

"I will. Love u!"

"Love u too, mom!"

Between the sound of the door closing and opening again, about four or five hours passed. It was already dawn. The young man asks, anxious for news:

"So, how was it? Tell me everything!"

"It was actually cool. But it's still not what we're looking for. Neither me nor him. And were you okay?"

"Yes, but... did you guys get to the 'finally'?"

"Yeah... kinda. But let's say Tembloroso hasn't retired yet. Cross Gary off the list."

More interested than Elena herself in her full satisfaction (and enjoyment), in the following days, Juan creates a true search operation for a potential stepfather. The venture is now online. Dozens of accounts are created on all types of dating websites. Countless photos of the beautiful mother are shared on various networks and applications: widows' billboards; social networks; even adult websites. Consumed by the task, the devoted boy even seems to acquire -- or develop -- a certain fetish for publicizing his mother's qualities and images. In a matter of weeks, the photos of the beautiful Latina (always accompanied by a detailed and rich description) can be accessed and admired in every corner of the internet. Reaching a level of specification that borders on obsession, Juan's goddess is shared in the most niche forums and communities -- from admirers of Milfs to those obsessed with Latinas, passing through groups aimed at fanatics of belly buttons, feet and butts. At this point, more enchanted by the process than by the goal itself, the tireless cupid delights in role playing and gooning with other people online; always thinking about the sexual happiness of mummy (and himself). In this undertaking, the two no longer talked about the subject as much at home.

A few months later, during breakfast, Elena questions him:

"And my pimp, is he tired of the job already? Am I a lost cause?" laughing.

"On the contrary, I planned something foolproof for you. If it doesn't work out, then I give up."

"Oh yeah? And when is this going to happen?" somewhat incredulous.

"Even that is a surprise," chewing the bread with his head down.

That same night, after work, the tired mother arrives home wishing for the usual foot rub. What she sees when walking through the door is completely opposite of what anyone would consider "usual". In addition to Juan (already in his pajamas), eight men of all ages, appearances and backgrounds stare at her -- all naked.

"Juanito!" she screams in despair.

"It's okay, Mom! I arranged everything. Everyone here passed my evaluations."

"But, son..."

"You deserve it, my love. Enjoy!"

Without the widow offering any resistance (whether out of fear or desire), the eight men take the lady to the kitchen, touching the trembling body, caressing the astonished face and removing her clothes along the way. Elena is placed naked on the table. All the males, as if at a banquet of love, respect and pleasure, delight in every part of her body, still sweaty from work. Between kisses, sucks and licks, Juan's mother surrenders herself to a state so intense that it borders on a trance. The son sits on a chair in the corner of the room to happily watch the feast -- from a distance. Despite the number of people involved and the unexpectedness of the event, everything happens in a calm and respectful manner.

Managing to find her son's face in the midst of the eager crowd, she beckons him with her hand to come closer. The boy approaches her and, holding the same hand that called him, rests his face against hers who says:

"Juanito..."

"Yes, mamá."

"Love u so much!" to which the young man kisses her forehead affectionately.