CHAPTER XIV
Among the many things I frequently heard my father say, some of his own and others borrowed from here or there, was his assertion that man is an animal of habits that, by nature, tends to settle into routine. What I deduced in this case was that what we tend to do is try to make habitual what we enjoy and would like to be a permanent part of our lives.
Only three nights had passed with my mother (I will continue to call her Brigi as she imposed) and everything had been so wonderful that I would have given anything for the situation to perpetuate eternally.
It's difficult to explain what one experiences when many and very deep feelings converge, when you give and receive love in abundance. The sexual act passes from being a goal to becoming a means of channeling a joy that has much more of a spiritual than material nature. Simply, I lack the words to make an approximate description of what these nights meant for me.
Even at the risk of someone considering my discourse hyperbolic, I won't tire of repeating how special Brigi was to me and the special emphasis I put on all and each of my activities, not because I sought to impress her but simply because it came naturally to me. With Dori I already excelled, because Dori undoubtedly deserved the best; but with Brigi everything was so different...
By then, I had realized that I was a very loving person, easily succumbing to the charms of a woman. However, neither with Bea nor Luci, nor even with Barbi and Cati, did this enamoration persist with such force once my desire was satiated as it did with Dori and, of course, Brigi. To please Dori I would have done anything; to please Brigi I would have made any sacrifice she asked for and still felt it would be insufficient, no matter how demanding it was.
When our last one arrived night, my spirits were down on the floor. I knew I still had a few hours of unparalleled bliss ahead of me; but that was just the crumbs of the great cake I desired. As it couldn't be otherwise, Brigi quickly realized the situation and once again hastened to offer me her helping hand.
The scene was quite similar to those of previous nights, with the only difference being that instead of lying there waiting for her to undress and come to my side, I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows dug into my knees and my head buried between my hands. If I wasn't crying, it wasn't because I lacked the desire.
Brigi came to sit beside me and, with all tenderness, wrapped her arm around me and pressed my face against her chest.
—This isn't the end, do you know? Maybe there won't be many nights for a long time, but we'll have many days to share.
Maybe three dates ago it would have seemed like a dream. Now it didn't seem enough. Suddenly, almost horrified, I saw my father as a rival whom I would have been happy to strike down if I had the means at that moment. It wasn't the best circumstances for thinking clearly, but I tried to reason. The mere fact that such an idea had crossed my mind made me shiver. I wanted to convince myself otherwise, but it was futile: I saw Brigi more and more like Brigi and less and less like mother. Now that my father's return was already near, now that my hours of supply were coming to an end, I felt like I wanted to keep playing this character.
—Come on, little one, don't get upset because you'll make me sad too. And tonight I don't want to be sad. I want it to be the happiest night of all.
Brigi got up, positioned herself in front of me and knelt between my knees, starting to play with my cock, which was at its lowest ebb.
—Do you know the doming position?
I shook my head. I didn't know any position that carried this Name, or at least I didn't know her by that name.
—Well, she'll be the first one we'll practice today. Although for that it's essential that Don Pacote gets in the mood.
With the help of his hand and mouth, he didn't need to exert himself much to make the dying man regain all his vigor. Satisfied with her triumph, Brigi got up and limited herself to taking off her panties, leaving on her dress. Placing herself with her back to me, she parted her skirt to leave the way clear, grasped my unerect cock with one hand, and guided it over the entrance of her pussy as she descended her buttocks until they rested on my thighs. The famous position was not different from what I had already experienced with the twins and also tried with Bea, although Brigi gave it a special style that was much more exciting.
Instead of doing it from top to bottom, Brigi started a movement from front to back, adorned with a series of turns to one side and the other, drawing hypothetical eights as she seemed to dilate and contract the walls of her vagina. The consequence of such varied mixing is that my package felt besieged from all sides, from tip to root, making it difficult for me to concentrate and exacerbating my sensitivity to extreme limits. Fortunately, he was doing everything slowly, because if he had given more speed to his dance I don't think I could have lasted much longer. But it was clear that Brigi's intention was to warm up and not burn, and this was just an appetizer.
As for these things, clothes are unnecessary, so I undressed her while she continued with her delicious waltzing. Once I had her naked on top of me, I started kissing the upper part of her back, her shoulders, and her neck, while my hands gave a new session to those tits that never got tired of being caressed.
Brigi had made up her mind to make me forget all my troubles, and believe it or not, she succeeded, because at...
Little did I know that I was so caught up in the situation that I completely forgot it was the last night and everything that had happened and would happen, focusing exclusively on the intensity of the moment. If the excitement that game provoked in me was great, it was no less great in Brigi, who soon reached her first ecstasy. After the final throes of such sweet agony, there were a few moments of absolute calm that came as a relief to me to recover my composure, somewhat altered by such turmoil.
I knew Brigi was still quite agile, but I never suspected she could reach such extremes. Elevating and flexing her right leg, she managed to turn around until she was facing me, without my cock coming out more than a couple of centimeters from its socket; those couple of centimeters that were immediately swallowed again.
She grabbed my neck with her hands and spread both legs over the bed behind me, throwing her torso back. The penetration couldn't be deeper now. The movement of her pelvis was almost imperceptible, but I felt it as if it were sliding along my entire cock.
'Are you feeling more energetic?'
I had never looked at her and smiled at her in that way before. She was definitely flirting with me and I loved that she did. I loved the way she let her tongue peek out between her lips, sticking to the upper one; I loved how she narrowed her eyelids; I loved how her breasts, pressed by her own arms, remained stuck together; I loved how her hair swayed gently in time with the small oscillation of her body; I loved... I loved everything and was so happy that almost felt unhappy just thinking it couldn't be eternal and had to come to an end.
It was so different from what she made me feel that I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to. I looked at her, completely entranced in the spell of her beauty and in the exquisite pleasure that its minimum movement transmitted to me. She was speaking to me, but her words were not reaching my ears; nor was the music I was listening to coming from the mini-cassette, but rather another much sweeter and more harmonious one that only sounded in my brain. For the first time, I understood what it really means when someone says to be floating on a cloud, because that's how I must have been feeling.
—Have you ever practiced the pleasure position?
—Isn't this the one we're having now? I'd stay like this for the rest of my life.
Brigi showed me again that suggestive and unique smile, barely parting her lips and lifting the corners slightly, while her eyes acquired a diamond-like sparkle.
—The truth is, I knew the position of submission already and several others; but I don't know how to name any of them.
—You shouldn't make too much of it. Except for the missionary and some other ones whose names seem to have universalized, the truth is that one same position is called by many different names.
As she spoke, Brigi had embraced me and, after a slight struggle, once again showcased her elasticity, putting her feet back on the floor this time and fully standing up, ending the intimate union we had maintained throughout. My cock seemed to have grown and swayed heavily a couple of times as it saw itself outside the orifice that had been giving it shelter.
The called pleasure position started seeming more like the penitent's position to me. Brigi sat on the edge of the bed, and I was made to kneel between her legs. It was supposed to be so that my cock would be roughly at the height of her pussy, but in reality, it was a bit lower. The solution was to put two pillows on the floor, which also pleased my knees, and thus our sexes remained perfectly aligned and ready for a new assembly, which did not take long to produce.
Seeming to be the most logical thing under such circumstances, I started pumping away at a good pace, but Brigi held me back by wrapping her legs around my waist and leaving me with barely any room for movement.
—I'm sorry, my nene—she smiled again—, but the compass marks it out.
And so it was that, tightly embracing each other, she took charge of setting the pace to follow, pressing more or less with her legs, which translated into a greater or lesser penetration of my penis in her vagina.
I won't say that the position in question wasn't pleasant, since, when it comes to possessing Brigi, nothing could be unpleasant; but, whether because I felt overwhelmed by the kind of prison those legs seemed to suppose for me, or because I had already tried things that seemed better to me in every way, the truth is that I didn't manage to understand why they called this position the position of pleasure. If only I had been allowed to operate freely on my own account, perhaps I would have found some meaning; but, as it was presented, I concluded that it was nothing more than complicating something as simple as a quick screw unnecessarily.
—Do you really like doing it this way?—I asked.
Brigi let out a laugh that made me feel ridiculous for a few moments, apart from how ridiculous the position already seemed to me.
—I said the same thing to your father the first time we tried it. It was just as much of a failure then; but the truth is that, when you get the hang of it, it doesn't leave you indifferent. It's made me have some memorable moments.
Brigi released her grip on my legs and chased away my frustration with a warm kiss that I prolonged for several minutes while caressing her breasts and slowly sliding my cock, now free from any constraints, into her well-lubricated hole. Her second orgasm surprised me by how unexpected it was, which made me launch myself at an attack definitive, in which I did not give up until I also achieved the same objective. Briggi increased the pressure of her hug on me and started nibbling at my left earlobe while whispering sweet words to me, mixing her dual condition as mother and woman. Between the tenderness of some and the lasciviousness of others, it's true that she put me completely hard again in record time and more than ready to start a new climb as if nothing from before had happened. When I noticed how my cock was pressing against her groin after the logical pause following my first release, Briggi let out a laugh. You're incredible! she joked. Almost makes your father go back to diapers. Don't you think we should wash up a bit before going on? I'm already dripping. She wasn't lying. Between the semen I had spilled onto her and her own production of fluids, the humidity exceeded the outline of her vulva and kept spreading more and more across the inner and anterior parts of her thighs. My cock, again stiff and erect, shone as if I had dipped it in a jar of ointment. Do you have any more postures planned? I asked while we were washing up in the bathroom. You're so hot that I don't care about any posture anymore. What's your favorite? My only favorite is you. Really? I thought your favorite was Dori. Dori is a different matter. Luckily, Briggi just smiled enigmatically at me and didn't insist on the topic. It would have been a bit complicated for me to explain the different feelings she and Dori inspired in me. By both, I felt genuine veneration, but they were venerations so distinct that no comparisons could be made between them. Back in the bedroom, Briggi let herself fall onto the bed face up and soon deduced that from then on... I'll be the only one responsible for imagining the situation. And honestly, I was so used to others suggesting what needed to be done that I didn't know where or how to start. While waiting for my ideas to clear up, hoping the situation would sort itself out, I curled up beside her and even thanked her when she put an arm around my neck and pressed me against her, in a gesture that seemed more maternal than amorous.
—Have you never wondered why I haven't turned to you all this time?
Although I didn't know where things were headed, my response wasn't long in coming.
—At first, I did wonder and it seemed clear: Dad is involved and he satisfies you fully. With him around, you don't need anyone else.
—What you're saying is very reasonable; however, it's not entirely true.
—Where am I wrong? —I was curious.
I think Brigi was about to explain where I was wrong, but she must have thought better of it and came out with the usual phrase instead.
—Things are like that for women.
The things are like that for women was like a stop sign. I didn't bother insisting, knowing that we weren't going to make any progress on the topic no matter how much I pushed. It was like a thick lock on an enormous door – there was no way to get past it.
The conversation continued in other directions that aren't of interest to the reader and which I prefer to skip over. But it's true that, while this conversation developed, our mutual caresses lost their innocence and took on more significant tones. The mother-son dynamic gave way once again to the evidence of woman-man. My cock, which had already had enough rest, got hard all over again and the chat started to lag before giving way to action. I tangled up with those breasts I never get tired of and my hand harassed the center of femininity once more for... little, revive the dormant sensations and leave the plate ready to be consumed.
That last one was perhaps the most soothing dust, and at least for me, the most satisfying. No elaborate positions or unnecessary displays. All naturalness and serene love, letting desire arise on its own and culminating our union when our bodies demanded it, with no more guidance or advisor than our own feelings and that mutual attraction, whether fatal or fortunate, that kept us tied to each other.
The sorrow that overwhelmed me, knowing the dream had come to an end, was in part compensated by the epilogue my mother put on the episode after my father's return.
—How has the baby behaved during my absence?
—With honors.
Then I don't know if with jealousy or unhealthy envy, I saw how my father wrapped his arm around my mother's waist and they headed towards that bedroom that would no longer be my territory for a long time.
Among the many things I frequently heard my father say, some of his own and others borrowed from here or there, was his assertion that man is an animal of habits that, by nature, tends to settle into routine. What I deduced in this case was that what we tend to do is try to make habitual what we enjoy and would like to be a permanent part of our lives.
Only three nights had passed with my mother (I will continue to call her Brigi as she imposed) and everything had been so wonderful that I would have given anything for the situation to perpetuate eternally.
It's difficult to explain what one experiences when many and very deep feelings converge, when you give and receive love in abundance. The sexual act passes from being a goal to becoming a means of channeling a joy that has much more of a spiritual than material nature. Simply, I lack the words to make an approximate description of what these nights meant for me.
Even at the risk of someone considering my discourse hyperbolic, I won't tire of repeating how special Brigi was to me and the special emphasis I put on all and each of my activities, not because I sought to impress her but simply because it came naturally to me. With Dori I already excelled, because Dori undoubtedly deserved the best; but with Brigi everything was so different...
By then, I had realized that I was a very loving person, easily succumbing to the charms of a woman. However, neither with Bea nor Luci, nor even with Barbi and Cati, did this enamoration persist with such force once my desire was satiated as it did with Dori and, of course, Brigi. To please Dori I would have done anything; to please Brigi I would have made any sacrifice she asked for and still felt it would be insufficient, no matter how demanding it was.
When our last one arrived night, my spirits were down on the floor. I knew I still had a few hours of unparalleled bliss ahead of me; but that was just the crumbs of the great cake I desired. As it couldn't be otherwise, Brigi quickly realized the situation and once again hastened to offer me her helping hand.
The scene was quite similar to those of previous nights, with the only difference being that instead of lying there waiting for her to undress and come to my side, I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows dug into my knees and my head buried between my hands. If I wasn't crying, it wasn't because I lacked the desire.
Brigi came to sit beside me and, with all tenderness, wrapped her arm around me and pressed my face against her chest.
—This isn't the end, do you know? Maybe there won't be many nights for a long time, but we'll have many days to share.
Maybe three dates ago it would have seemed like a dream. Now it didn't seem enough. Suddenly, almost horrified, I saw my father as a rival whom I would have been happy to strike down if I had the means at that moment. It wasn't the best circumstances for thinking clearly, but I tried to reason. The mere fact that such an idea had crossed my mind made me shiver. I wanted to convince myself otherwise, but it was futile: I saw Brigi more and more like Brigi and less and less like mother. Now that my father's return was already near, now that my hours of supply were coming to an end, I felt like I wanted to keep playing this character.
—Come on, little one, don't get upset because you'll make me sad too. And tonight I don't want to be sad. I want it to be the happiest night of all.
Brigi got up, positioned herself in front of me and knelt between my knees, starting to play with my cock, which was at its lowest ebb.
—Do you know the doming position?
I shook my head. I didn't know any position that carried this Name, or at least I didn't know her by that name.
—Well, she'll be the first one we'll practice today. Although for that it's essential that Don Pacote gets in the mood.
With the help of his hand and mouth, he didn't need to exert himself much to make the dying man regain all his vigor. Satisfied with her triumph, Brigi got up and limited herself to taking off her panties, leaving on her dress. Placing herself with her back to me, she parted her skirt to leave the way clear, grasped my unerect cock with one hand, and guided it over the entrance of her pussy as she descended her buttocks until they rested on my thighs. The famous position was not different from what I had already experienced with the twins and also tried with Bea, although Brigi gave it a special style that was much more exciting.
Instead of doing it from top to bottom, Brigi started a movement from front to back, adorned with a series of turns to one side and the other, drawing hypothetical eights as she seemed to dilate and contract the walls of her vagina. The consequence of such varied mixing is that my package felt besieged from all sides, from tip to root, making it difficult for me to concentrate and exacerbating my sensitivity to extreme limits. Fortunately, he was doing everything slowly, because if he had given more speed to his dance I don't think I could have lasted much longer. But it was clear that Brigi's intention was to warm up and not burn, and this was just an appetizer.
As for these things, clothes are unnecessary, so I undressed her while she continued with her delicious waltzing. Once I had her naked on top of me, I started kissing the upper part of her back, her shoulders, and her neck, while my hands gave a new session to those tits that never got tired of being caressed.
Brigi had made up her mind to make me forget all my troubles, and believe it or not, she succeeded, because at...
Little did I know that I was so caught up in the situation that I completely forgot it was the last night and everything that had happened and would happen, focusing exclusively on the intensity of the moment. If the excitement that game provoked in me was great, it was no less great in Brigi, who soon reached her first ecstasy. After the final throes of such sweet agony, there were a few moments of absolute calm that came as a relief to me to recover my composure, somewhat altered by such turmoil.
I knew Brigi was still quite agile, but I never suspected she could reach such extremes. Elevating and flexing her right leg, she managed to turn around until she was facing me, without my cock coming out more than a couple of centimeters from its socket; those couple of centimeters that were immediately swallowed again.
She grabbed my neck with her hands and spread both legs over the bed behind me, throwing her torso back. The penetration couldn't be deeper now. The movement of her pelvis was almost imperceptible, but I felt it as if it were sliding along my entire cock.
'Are you feeling more energetic?'
I had never looked at her and smiled at her in that way before. She was definitely flirting with me and I loved that she did. I loved the way she let her tongue peek out between her lips, sticking to the upper one; I loved how she narrowed her eyelids; I loved how her breasts, pressed by her own arms, remained stuck together; I loved how her hair swayed gently in time with the small oscillation of her body; I loved... I loved everything and was so happy that almost felt unhappy just thinking it couldn't be eternal and had to come to an end.
It was so different from what she made me feel that I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to. I looked at her, completely entranced in the spell of her beauty and in the exquisite pleasure that its minimum movement transmitted to me. She was speaking to me, but her words were not reaching my ears; nor was the music I was listening to coming from the mini-cassette, but rather another much sweeter and more harmonious one that only sounded in my brain. For the first time, I understood what it really means when someone says to be floating on a cloud, because that's how I must have been feeling.
—Have you ever practiced the pleasure position?
—Isn't this the one we're having now? I'd stay like this for the rest of my life.
Brigi showed me again that suggestive and unique smile, barely parting her lips and lifting the corners slightly, while her eyes acquired a diamond-like sparkle.
—The truth is, I knew the position of submission already and several others; but I don't know how to name any of them.
—You shouldn't make too much of it. Except for the missionary and some other ones whose names seem to have universalized, the truth is that one same position is called by many different names.
As she spoke, Brigi had embraced me and, after a slight struggle, once again showcased her elasticity, putting her feet back on the floor this time and fully standing up, ending the intimate union we had maintained throughout. My cock seemed to have grown and swayed heavily a couple of times as it saw itself outside the orifice that had been giving it shelter.
The called pleasure position started seeming more like the penitent's position to me. Brigi sat on the edge of the bed, and I was made to kneel between her legs. It was supposed to be so that my cock would be roughly at the height of her pussy, but in reality, it was a bit lower. The solution was to put two pillows on the floor, which also pleased my knees, and thus our sexes remained perfectly aligned and ready for a new assembly, which did not take long to produce.
Seeming to be the most logical thing under such circumstances, I started pumping away at a good pace, but Brigi held me back by wrapping her legs around my waist and leaving me with barely any room for movement.
—I'm sorry, my nene—she smiled again—, but the compass marks it out.
And so it was that, tightly embracing each other, she took charge of setting the pace to follow, pressing more or less with her legs, which translated into a greater or lesser penetration of my penis in her vagina.
I won't say that the position in question wasn't pleasant, since, when it comes to possessing Brigi, nothing could be unpleasant; but, whether because I felt overwhelmed by the kind of prison those legs seemed to suppose for me, or because I had already tried things that seemed better to me in every way, the truth is that I didn't manage to understand why they called this position the position of pleasure. If only I had been allowed to operate freely on my own account, perhaps I would have found some meaning; but, as it was presented, I concluded that it was nothing more than complicating something as simple as a quick screw unnecessarily.
—Do you really like doing it this way?—I asked.
Brigi let out a laugh that made me feel ridiculous for a few moments, apart from how ridiculous the position already seemed to me.
—I said the same thing to your father the first time we tried it. It was just as much of a failure then; but the truth is that, when you get the hang of it, it doesn't leave you indifferent. It's made me have some memorable moments.
Brigi released her grip on my legs and chased away my frustration with a warm kiss that I prolonged for several minutes while caressing her breasts and slowly sliding my cock, now free from any constraints, into her well-lubricated hole. Her second orgasm surprised me by how unexpected it was, which made me launch myself at an attack definitive, in which I did not give up until I also achieved the same objective. Briggi increased the pressure of her hug on me and started nibbling at my left earlobe while whispering sweet words to me, mixing her dual condition as mother and woman. Between the tenderness of some and the lasciviousness of others, it's true that she put me completely hard again in record time and more than ready to start a new climb as if nothing from before had happened. When I noticed how my cock was pressing against her groin after the logical pause following my first release, Briggi let out a laugh. You're incredible! she joked. Almost makes your father go back to diapers. Don't you think we should wash up a bit before going on? I'm already dripping. She wasn't lying. Between the semen I had spilled onto her and her own production of fluids, the humidity exceeded the outline of her vulva and kept spreading more and more across the inner and anterior parts of her thighs. My cock, again stiff and erect, shone as if I had dipped it in a jar of ointment. Do you have any more postures planned? I asked while we were washing up in the bathroom. You're so hot that I don't care about any posture anymore. What's your favorite? My only favorite is you. Really? I thought your favorite was Dori. Dori is a different matter. Luckily, Briggi just smiled enigmatically at me and didn't insist on the topic. It would have been a bit complicated for me to explain the different feelings she and Dori inspired in me. By both, I felt genuine veneration, but they were venerations so distinct that no comparisons could be made between them. Back in the bedroom, Briggi let herself fall onto the bed face up and soon deduced that from then on... I'll be the only one responsible for imagining the situation. And honestly, I was so used to others suggesting what needed to be done that I didn't know where or how to start. While waiting for my ideas to clear up, hoping the situation would sort itself out, I curled up beside her and even thanked her when she put an arm around my neck and pressed me against her, in a gesture that seemed more maternal than amorous.
—Have you never wondered why I haven't turned to you all this time?
Although I didn't know where things were headed, my response wasn't long in coming.
—At first, I did wonder and it seemed clear: Dad is involved and he satisfies you fully. With him around, you don't need anyone else.
—What you're saying is very reasonable; however, it's not entirely true.
—Where am I wrong? —I was curious.
I think Brigi was about to explain where I was wrong, but she must have thought better of it and came out with the usual phrase instead.
—Things are like that for women.
The things are like that for women was like a stop sign. I didn't bother insisting, knowing that we weren't going to make any progress on the topic no matter how much I pushed. It was like a thick lock on an enormous door – there was no way to get past it.
The conversation continued in other directions that aren't of interest to the reader and which I prefer to skip over. But it's true that, while this conversation developed, our mutual caresses lost their innocence and took on more significant tones. The mother-son dynamic gave way once again to the evidence of woman-man. My cock, which had already had enough rest, got hard all over again and the chat started to lag before giving way to action. I tangled up with those breasts I never get tired of and my hand harassed the center of femininity once more for... little, revive the dormant sensations and leave the plate ready to be consumed.
That last one was perhaps the most soothing dust, and at least for me, the most satisfying. No elaborate positions or unnecessary displays. All naturalness and serene love, letting desire arise on its own and culminating our union when our bodies demanded it, with no more guidance or advisor than our own feelings and that mutual attraction, whether fatal or fortunate, that kept us tied to each other.
The sorrow that overwhelmed me, knowing the dream had come to an end, was in part compensated by the epilogue my mother put on the episode after my father's return.
—How has the baby behaved during my absence?
—With honors.
Then I don't know if with jealousy or unhealthy envy, I saw how my father wrapped his arm around my mother's waist and they headed towards that bedroom that would no longer be my territory for a long time.
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