Coping
By Patience Bryce
Copyright 9/2001


She was surprised to hear the door slam, and she walked into the
living room to find her son standing there.  He looked terrible.
Tired, disheveled, and there was an odor about him making her
nose wrinkle.
Crossing the room, she put her arms out and they embraced
tightly.  Not wanting to ask questions, but her concern obvious,
he explained to his mom that he had a 24-hour break.  Pushing her
back to arm length, his hands stayed on her shoulder while he
told her that he saw things he could not ever had imagined. 
Trying to assure her, he would be ok, but that once his time was
up he had to go back WANTED to go back and continue to help.  She
opened her mouth to say something but he shook his head tiredly.
Saving her comments for another time, she suggested a shower,
while she put some dinner on the table.  He told his mother
another shower would be good, but that the stench seemed to be
ingrained under his skin, and he felt like it may never go away.


In the kitchen, paring potatoes, and busying herself getting
dinner ready when he was done with his shower, she watched as he
went into the living room and turned on the TV.  Her heart ached
for his sadness and seeing him put on yet another news channel
she couldn't stop herself from going in, suggesting he watch
something else.  Not looking up at her, his voice unsteady, he
told her he just wanted to see if they may have found someone in
the time since he left * ground zero *.  Sighing heavily, she
suggested he watch something else just until after dinner, to
give him self a break.  His watching the news was not going to
make a rescue happen.  Staring at the TV, he finally started
flipping through the channels.

She continued dinner preparations, pondering how she can help her
son.  The reality was that many people would be trying to figure
out the same thing.  How to help those who help.  Her mind
drifted back to the picnic the fire department hosted when her
son a little over a year ago, when he graduated from the academy
and was assigned to a station.  So many new young men had joined;
they wanted everyone to get to know the family, as it were.  Most
brought their wives, or girlfriends, a few of them brought
parents.  All he had was his mother.  And a year later it was
still all he had.  The time the fire service consumed left him
little time, or inclination, to go out and find anyone to date,
let alone develop a relationship with.  At the picnic, she got to
know some of the wives of the older, more seasoned fire fighters,
and she was beginning to remember some of the things they said
helped them cope.  Quite a few of them were pregnant, and one of
them had mentioned that it was from the big train wreck about 6
months previous.  Noting a look of confusion, the mother to be
laughed and began to explain.

It's typical to find an increase in pregnancy shortly after some
catastrophe that our men have had to deal with.  You will
discover it's the same way in the police department.  The train
derailment kept them on duty for days, and there was, if you
recall, a high number of deaths along with all the destruction. 
Just then, the pregnant woman's oldest daughter ran over to them.
 Looking down at the 5-year-old, she smiled.  This is my Anna, A
product of the biggest warehouse fire the city had seen in a
decade.  She was named for Anna St, the location of the
warehouse.  It was my husband's first exposure to a fire
fatality, as there had been vagrants living in the abandoned
structure.  Anna was born 9 months to the day.  She noticed that
the new member's mother looked a little unsure and went into a
deeper explanation.  Our men are exposed to things, time and
again that most of us never see even once in our lives.  Facing
death repeatedly, can bring on symptoms of depression, or makes
them question what they do and what their purpose is if they
can't save someone.  Very frankly, she related that it was the
best sex most of them ever experienced.  We figure there are two
reasons.  One reason is they need to feel alive again.  They need
to feel human once more and to be close to another living
breathing human being.  Another reason goes back to our ancestors
long ago, where procreation would be needed to replenish what was
lost.
Maybe to some it sounds callous but I think it's a much better
way then some of these older guys who are divorced or widowed,
since they try to find their solace in the bottom of a bottle. 
Nudging the older woman, she said, I have a single sister!

The beeping of the timer brought her out of her reverie, and she
placed dinner on the table.  Looking older then his 22 years, he
slowly came out to the kitchen.  Half-heartedly, he poked at his
meal, taking a few bites here and there.  After 15 minutes he
apologized to his mother, figuring that maybe he was just too
tired to eat.  He got up from the table and headed back to his
bedroom.  His mother kept thinking back to that conversation, as
she cleaned up from dinner.

Still concerned about her son, she stopped by his bedroom, and
found him laying on top of his bed in his boxer shorts, staring
at the ceiling.  Going into the room she sat by his bed and put
her hand on his bare chest.  He didn't move, didn't make any
gesture that he was aware of her presence.  Her concern grew. 
Hoping that at least her presence could provide some comfort, she
began to lightly graze his chest and stomach with her fingertips.
 Rubbing in circles, then top to bottom, she could feel some of
the tension in his body ease up.  She left her fingernails pass
over each nipple, and noticed that they each hardened in
response.  As she moved her arm down, she felt a nudge at her
elbow and looked down.  Under the thin material of his boxers,
his cock was becoming erect, the head peeking out of the fly. 
But he still showed no indication that he was aware of anything.
She wanted to help him, but she couldn't deny also becoming
aroused.  Timidly she rested a hand on the material of his
boxers, making his erection protrude more.  Glancing up at her
son, he still stares at the ceiling.  Thinking to her self that
this is the moment of opportunity and brings a hand to his cock,
wrapping her fingers around it. Feeling it throb under her skin,
she feels a matching twinge between her own legs.  Her son didn't
move, but he didn't resist.  Barely audible, a sigh escaped his
lips. A flick of her tongue over her lips, she wetted them for
what she was about to do.

Lowering her head, she opened her mouth and took in the fully
hard cock of her son. And in that one movement, no more
deliberate thoughts of right or wrong.  The sound of her son's
moaning coupled with the feel of his cock being propelled deeper
into her mouth with a thrust of his hips lit a fire deep within
her.  Up and down her lips slid the length of his cock.  Her
tongue rubbing his now throbbing vein.  Looking up, her mouth
filled with her own sons cock, she found him watching her
intently.  He raised a hand up to her and caressed her hair,
trailing his fingers along her cheek.  Moaning around his cock,
her lips tightened around his silky smooth flesh, sucking him as
deep into her throat as she could.  His cock swelled and his vein
pulsed, warning of his impending orgasm.  Suddenly he grasped his
mother's hair and yanked her off his cock.  For a moment, she
looked confused, until his fingers started fumbling with the
buttons of her shirt.

Relieved that he was not ending their contact, she kept stroking
his cock with her hand as he opened her blouse.  Missing a button
he was frustrated for a moment, at the resistance of the material
and yanked it away, sending the button skittering across the
floor noisily.  Moving forward, he lowered his head to her
breasts and started to lick and suck them hard. Her son rubs his
teeth against her hard nipples, making her gasp and grab onto his
hair.  Strong arms grab hers, pushing her onto his bed.  Not
letting go of the nipple in his mouth, he pushes down her pants
and panties to her ankles.  His mother maneuvers her legs,
kicking of the remaining cloth.  His hand gropes at her wet
pussy, squeezing it, rubbing it, making her writhe and grind up
against him.  Both so hungry.  He finally lets go of her tit and
moves down, lightly biting her stomach, then her mound. 
Instinctively she pulls her legs open wide, grasping herself
behind the knees and pulling back, exposing her wetness to her
own sons mouth. Burying his face between her thighs, he licked
and sucked his mother from her full lips to her round bottom and
back again.  His hands plunged under her ample bottom raising her
up to him.  His face rubbed against her as his tongue probed her,
making her hips jerk back and forth.  Her wetness on his tongue
as he lapped at her.  Juices glazed his cheeks and chin.  Moaning
into her soft wetness vibrating her clit, as she looked down in a
mix of surprise, lust and need, watching her son bring her to an
intense orgasm.

His mother lay sprawled, whimpering and twitching, and waiting
wasn't an option as he crawled on top of her and thrust his cock
into her.  Each grunting and moaning as she wrapped her arms and
legs around him, locked in a frenzy of hot passionate fucking. 
His mouth found hers and their tongues fought for space. 
Growling into her mouth, he thrust in and out, bucking side to
side, feeling every inch of her pussy on his cock.  He could feel
his balls tightening and knew that soon he would be filling his
mother with his cum. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth as he
thrust and held his cock against her cervix, feeling his hot cum
shooting inside her, coating the tip of his cock.  The sensation
of her hot wet pussy, mixed with his hot cream, encouraged him to
continue pushing and pulling in and out of her.  His cock
remained hard, as he began to rain kisses all over her face, down
her neck to her chest.  As his mouth covered a nipple his mother
put her head back and sighed heavily.  He could feel her pussy
clamp around his cock in response.

Pulling his cock out of her, he rubbed it against her clit, the
heat penetrating her clit, making it throb.  She reached down and
grabbed her sons cock again, feeling its hardness as she stroked
it.  Slowly he moved up, not breaking the rhythm of her strokes
until his cock was situated in the middle of her chest.  His
mother removed her hand from his cock and cupped each side of her
tits and pushed them together, creating a chasm for his cock to
ride in.  The soft ample flesh against his, creating a wonderful
friction.  Long deep strokes, the head of his cock hitting her
chin, until she tilted her head and would swipe it with her
tongue each pass it made.  Each touch was like an electrical
impulse to him.

Pushing himself up, he nudged her over and slid back.  Grabbing
his mother's hips he yanked her up, her ass cheeks jiggling
slightly.  In frenzy, he entered her from behind.  Wet sucking
sounds of his cock moving in and out of her filled the room.  His
mother pushed back on his cock, squirming on it.  Reaching down
between her legs, she rubbed her clit, feeling the base of his
slick cock against her fingertip.  Groaning louder he reached up
with both hands and grabbed onto her hair, yanking in conjunction
with his thrusts.  He rode her hard, making her whimper with each
deep thrust.  Her back coated with a layer of sweat, as their
breathing became ragged.  Without warning his cock throbbed and
shot cum deep inside his mother, his hands yanking back in one
steady pull as she howled against her own orgasm.  The throb of
her pussy was milking every drop from his cock and balls.

Exhausted they collapsed, and he rolled off his mother.  Feeling
his whole body go limp, he was suddenly too tired to move. 
Quietly she got up from the bed and made her way to the bathroom.
 She returned with a basin of warm water and a cloth, and
wordlessly sponged off their juices and their sweat.  His eyes
closed as he fell into the deepest slumber he'd experienced since
before the tragedy.  He slept for 10 hours.

When he awoke it took him some time to figure out the day and
time.  Cautiously, he got off his bed and was surprised and
relieved that he felt fit.  No more of the overwhelming tiredness
that seemed to have drenched him to the core the previous day. 
He hummed while he showered.  After getting dressed, he passed
through the kitchen.  He grabbed his mother in a tight hug and
whispered a thank you to her, before heading back to the crisis
at hand.  Her son was smiling as he left, feeling an urgent need
and a readiness to face the gruesome task once more.

She stood at the sink, watching him get into the car, a smile
crossing her lips.  Satisfied that he seemed well today, she
hummed as she went about her housework.

END







  
Coping