The Long Goodbye

I tried to smile back to the nurse who was flashing her cleavage to me. I would have played along, but I was not in the mood. I was filled with dread about the results of mom's tests, which would show if her chemotherapy have been successful or not. I was also experiencing another session of what I called the guilt attack.

When I was a little kid, my grandmother had told me I was the main reason for my mother's misery. Later I found out that she was kidnapped, raped and got pregnant after her high-school graduation. The rapist, my father, was shot dead while trying to escape. My grandparents did not let mom to have an abortion or even to give me away for adoption. When my grandparents passed away, my mother inherited nothing. She had to sell their small house in the country, in order to be able to pay for their treatments in their last years. She eventually had to start working double shifts.

She gradually lost her friends, and after her parents' death, she had no one but me.

Not that we were any close.

We did not have much chance to see each-other often. I cannot remember at what age I gave up staying awake, waiting for her to come back from her night-shifts.

She could not afford to take care of her looks. Her hands were rugged from years of physical work, and her face was full of strain-lines which made her appear older than her real age. Nobody could guess that this broken woman was only thirty eight years old.

We grow distant over time. I started to seek love and caress from others. I knew I had an attractive build. I was taller than the other boys in our grade and I had bright eyes, firm cheekbones, and broad shoulders. Chicks appeared to dig it, but I knew I did not receive this appearance from my mother's side. This was a gift from my rapist father.

One night when I knew mom would be late, I had brought a girls home. I was fucking her mercilessly, pulling her hair while my big shaft penetrated her tight cunt. The slut had been moaning with abandon and I had closed my eye. The girl's yelp had made me open my eyes and see mom standing in the door-frame. She had appeared to be in awe and did not leave us alone until the girl protested.

"Piss off old bitch. Can't you see we need some privacy here?"

My mother had blushed and ran away. I had been so furious with the girl that I had grabbed her neck and thrown her naked body out of the house. If mom had not insist, I would not have even gave her the clothes.

That incident made me think about my mother's sex life, and I felt very sorry to realize that I have never seen her with any man. What was the last time that she enjoyed a warm embrace? How long was it from her last orgasm? I stopped bringing girls home from that night on and would fuck them elsewhere.

Our life took a tremendous turn one night, during my first year at college. I came home and was surprised to see that mom was there early. She was holding some papers and her face was white with fear. When I asked her what the matter was, she turned to me with surprise. Her voice was shaking.

"I fainted at work some days ago. They took me to hospital and ran some tests, and called me today to tell that I have cancer."

I was shocked. Was she joking? But who would joke about something like that? I looked at my hands and saw that they were shaking. She held them tight.

"You do not need to worry. My boss said that he is going to support me through all of this and that I do not have to go to work anymore. I am waiting for a colleague to pick me up and take me to hospital to start the treatment."

I could not bear the news. From my childhood, I have always tried not to cry in front of her, because I could not bear the worried and desperate look on her face. I pulled my hand out of hers and ran out. I kept running until I reached the riverside, and after a few minutes of crying and yelling, managed to pull myself together.

I returned home and accompanied her to the hospital.

Weeks after the beginning of chemotherapy, she started losing weight and her hair began to fall. Her eye-sockets were now black. After consulting my new friends in the support groups, I offered to shave her head. When I saw that her eyes were full of tears, I tried to console her by saying that she looked like a hot Goth girl in the college and I was happy to see her smile.

She was also losing physical strength. One day, I heard her scream in the bathroom. I rushed in and saw her half naked body on the ground. I helped her up and positioned her on the toilet seat. I stayed there and helped her pull up her panties and pajamas.

I called an ambulance to take her to the hospital to make sure that there was serious injuries. When they assured me that everything was fine, I took her back home. I put her to bed and saw that she was shivering. I lay by her side and held her. She seemed to get calmer. I stayed with her all night.

The next morning, I was embarrassed to find my erection pressing on her ass. I hoped that she was still asleep. I tried to move away as slowly as possible. When I checked her, her eyes was closed, but there was a faint smile on her face.

At breakfast table, she thanked me for my help the previous night and I said that I was happy that I was there and could help. She looked at me with appreciation.

"You to have grown to be a fine man."

She narrowed her eyes and grinned.

"You are also a very sexy guy. I somehow know that you can get along by yourself when I die."

"Come on, mom. Don't talk like that."

"No use in denying the obvious. My health is deteriorating fast."

I looked down and suppressed a sob. I knew she was right. She continued.

"In the past, I used to look back at my life and wonder what went wrong. But, nowadays, I have realized that this is not the right way of thinking. Instead, I tell myself, that I should think about what I want to do with the rest of my life."

Another guilt attack was building up in my chest. I looked at her and forced myself to smile.

"Just tell me whatever you want, and I will help you no matter what."

She blushed.

"I should not tell you this, but I have no one else to talk to."

"Come on. You can rely on me for anything."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"It might sound stupid while I'm struggling with death. But, these days, the only thing on my mind is sex. I just want to have lots of orgasms before I die."

I was taken aback and looked at her, unbelieving. After a few moments of silence, we both burst into laughing. To be honest, I have thought about that too. I tried to imagine how hard had it been for her to bring on something like that and decided to make it easier for her.

"I would have been disappointed if you came up with any other wish."

To prove my understanding, I hurried to a sex-shop in town and came back with a bunch of porn movies and sex toys. She blushed and protested at first, but eventually seemed like a child looking at a candy box. I left home to give her some privacy. When I returned that night, she was still in her room. I could hear her moans and, imagining her masturbating, immediately had a hard on.

This arrangement worked for some time. But as I expected, it was not enough. After another awkward breakfast, I promised to help her find someone. That afternoon, she tried to apply some makeup on herself, but her hands were shaking too much. I stepped up to help her. I messed it up a few times and we had a lot of laughter. When I eventually managed to do an acceptable job, I helped her change into her best clothes. Which were now a little loose around her thin body. She hesitated at the door, looking worried.

"I'm not sure if this is a good idea. What if I humiliate myself? What if nobody likes me?"

I checked her out. Although I found her adorable, I could imagine that her tired and pained look and the shabby outfit would probably repel the cool guys and she might end up with a loser or nobody at all. I did not want to make her feel worse. I came up with an idea.

"Very well, sexy lady. Let's have a little practice."

She grinned and said that it would be excellent. We went to the kitchen and decided to pretend that we were in a bar. I approached her from behind and used one of my pick-up lines. She stared at me with her mouth open. After a few moments she pulled herself together and muttered something incomprehensible. I thanked God that this did not happen in the bar. It took a few more sentences to make her manage to say something meaningful. After a few shots of whiskey, I told her few nasty jokes, which made her laugh out loud. I asked her to get out of the bar with me. This time, she managed to play along and narrowed her eyes.

"Where would you take me this late in the night?"

"To your home, of course, silly girl. You are too drunk and the other guys might take advantage."

She grinned.

"You make me drunk and vulnerable and then pick me up. Such a gentleman."

I insisted some more and she finally gave up and came out. We walked around the neighborhood and kept flirting. When we came back in front of the home, she surprised me by putting her hands on my shoulders and kissing me softly on the lips. She lingered for some moments. When she let go, her eyes were full of tears and her whole body was shaking. Back home and after a few sips of water, she calmed down. She sniffed and spoke without looking at me.

"Do you want to know a secret? I loved your father and I always teased her. I daydreamed about having a date and a first kiss, exactly like what we did tonight. The bastard ruined everything. He could have me with my consent if he waited."

In my arms, she cried herself to sleep. I took her to the bed and carefully took out her dress and left her in her bra and panties. I considered leaving her alone, but decided to join her in the bed. When I opened my eyes in the morning, I jumped, because she was gazing at me with a wicked playfulness in her eyes.

"You look nice in the morning, stranger."

I instinctively looked down at my penis and saw that the huge erection was visible. I sat and put a pillow on it. She gave me an exaggerated remorseful look, and went to the bathroom. I checked her back and saw that now she was walking gracefully. She was way more attractive than last night.

That day I accompanied her to the mall to buy some new cloths. I helped her try many outfits and she did not seem to be shy of showing her scantily clad body to me in the booths. Next I took her to a beauty shop where she got a sexy eyebrow tattoo. She also had her legs waxed of whatever hair remained there. I suggested buying a wig, but she said that she preferred to try her chances with her real look first. By the end of the day, she still looked a little tired and weak, but guys had started checking her out.

At launch, when I was returning with our sandwiches, I was amazed to see that she gave her number to a guy. But he was a bit overweight, but he was handsome and behaved like a gentleman. She was excited about this and I was happy for her, but deep down, I was jealous.

The guy picked her up in the next day's afternoon. I was pacing in the home the whole time and hurried to the door when it rang early in the night. Mom was back but she seemed sad. I raised my voice.

"Did he hurt you? Tell me his address and I'll go and give him a good lesson."

She shook her head and put her hand on my chest. I took her in and asked her what went wrong. Her eyes began to get wet.

"Tonight I was just too nervous and I could not enjoy anything, not even the food. I felt old, ugly, and sick. But last night, with you, it was as if I was young again. I just forgot for a few moment that I was dying."

I reached out and hugged her. When she was finished crying in my arms, I took her face in my hands. We looked at each other for a few seconds, and then she closed her eyes and half-opened her mouth. I put my lips on hers and experienced the most passionate kiss of my life. The kiss was so intense that we both were panting after it was finished. After making out some more, she fiddled with my shirt's bottoms but she could not do the job with her shaking hands. I tore the shirt open and did the same with her dress. I kissed under her ears and nibbled at them. She moaned lustfully in a way that made me hungry for her. I kissed her neck, her nipples, her belly, thighs, and finally I kissed her waxed pussy. She grabbed my hair and pulled it hard.

God I liked it when girls went this wild and animalistic. But most girls I have fucked were passive and if they were good in bed, they were like the bitch who I throw out the other night. Mom was the best one so far.

When I started licking her pussy, she bent her body backwards and tied her feet around my neck. Considering her lack of sexual experience, it was evident that she did all this instinctively. My mom was a natural hot fuck. I had to bring on my best cunnilingus art to give her the first orgasm of that night.

When she was done, her pale bald body was shaking with heavy breathing. It was the sexiest thing I ever saw in my life. She kept staring at the ceiling, and after some minutes, took a deep breath.

"I want more."

I do not deny that I worried a little about what we had started. It felt like jumping from a cliff into the darkness. I feared that this would fuck up everything and that we would probably end up hurt. But I never wanted to stop. It was as if I was spellbound from that night on.

We did not bother to find any justification for what we did. Fuck the norms. Fuck any god who does not approve of our love. Fuck death, heaven, or hell. She was all I wanted, and nothing felt more right than fucking my own mother.

During the next few weeks, we gradually intensified our sex. We experimented every type of sex, from vanilla and soft-core, to the most perverted types of BDSM. She liked it rough. She encouraged me to hit and abuse her and I never held back. Most nights she went to bed bruised and sore. It was always hilarious watching her try to explain the odd marks on her body to the doctors and nurses.

We became inseparable and I was present at every step of her treatment. Her chemo sessions just became a short bump in our wild ride together. Sometimes when the hospital staff congratulated me for being such a selfless and loyal son, I saw her bit her lips to try to stop herself from laughing.

When mom's doctor called and told us to come to the hospital, I was worried by his empathetic tone. He told me that he was going to discuss the test results and the rest of the treatment. When we got there, mom asked me to wait outside. When she came out, she looked shaken.

"The treatment did not work. I have less than a week."

We both had expected this and had agreed that it was not necessary to stay home and face death bravely. She preferred a tidy, professional death at the hospital rather than a messy one at home.

In her last days, I was with her the whole time. She was mostly unconscious and blabbering, but one day before her death, she told me her last conscious words. She looked at through her half-open eyes and whispered.

"This cancer was the best thing that happened in my life."

She went out of breath for a few seconds but brought herself to add on magical sentence that washed away all my guilt.

"I was lucky to have someone who loved me."

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