“You always did know me better than anyone else does. Even your dad.”
“:)”
“Miss you.”
I’m Jack and I love online instant messaging.
I’d left England aged 18 to go to university in Switzerland. As is the way in Britain, I had other university options: Mother wanted me to stay in Carlisle, or at least take the Cambridge offer. But my need to get away was so strong that I’d also applied for universities elsewhere in Europe and, having been rejected for my favourite, Paris, it was a choice between Cairo (not Europe, I know) and Geneva, and I took the Geneva option literally from the result of a coin toss.
I’d effectively been Mother’s confidante since I was, say, 15 or so, as her relationships with other people broke down and withered away, so you can imagine her response when she discovered I’d be moving so far away for university. You can picture the clichés for yourself – the denial, the tearful lashings-out, etc. and finally the pained smile as she waved me off at the airport.
After trying for a couple of years, I finally succeeded in getting Mom to use online messaging! And here we were, chatting online: she in England; I in Switzerland. There was no sound; just webcam and the scroll of exchanged messages.
“Aww. I miss you too. Not long now!” I typed away, watching Mom on the webcam as she smiled and then pulled off her sweater, flashing her bra as the sweater stuck to the cotton shirt underneath! “Nice bra, Mom.” I continued. The innocent flash of white lace sent my heart racing!
The shirt fell back down as Mom twisted to hang her sweater on the back of her chair. She turned back, saw my comment and laughed a little embarrassed laugh. “hahaha! Don’t tell your dad!”
“I’ll just consider it a late Christmas present,” I said.
And my cock twitched.
To say I’dalwaysfantasised about Mom would be an exaggeration, but nor would I say Ineverthought of her sexually. When I lived at home, she often worked night shifts and her attire would often include a simple shirt and either jeans or smart trousers. Occasionally, she’d showcase herincredibleass in yoga pants instead. I like curvaceous women with a big ass and maybe Freud would say that’s because of my mother. Her body is similar to that of Mal Malloy (search for her), except Mom’s rear isn’t quite that extreme and she doesn’t have the excessive thighs. I’d estimated her vital statistics to be 36C/D–28-ish–42-ish, with her waist fluctuating somewhat as she went in and out of diet and exercise fads. To complete the picture, Mom is quite tall at 5ft 11in and has probably the best legs I’ve ever seen anywhere; she has quite a dark tan as she often lies in the backyard in the morning sun, and her dark hair has a very slight red tint in it. Her face was still pretty too, so of course I noticed her attractiveness. I just didn’t quite obsess over her like I imagine some guys do about their mothers.
Anyway, I was feeling horny: horny enough to be willing to possibly change my relationship with Mom forever. I wanted to see her bra again. At least. So I pushed ahead.
“Or two Christmas presents, rather.”
“haha! Behave!” Mom entered.
“What you gonna do if I don’t??”
Mom didn’t say anything. She put her finger on her chin and looked pensively upwards, as if the answer were in the sky.
I interrupted: “It’s very nice anyway. Where did you get it?”
“I’m not telling you that!”
“Why not?”
I watched Mom on the webcam as she seemed to brace herself. She started to type, and then she stopped, and I could see she deleted what she’d been typing. But then she started again.
“lacylace.co.uk”
I smiled. “Woo! I’m having a look!” I entered, before clicking the link.
“I can’t believe I just told you that. You’re gonna get me in trouble. What if your dad sees this?”
“He won’t. I’ll give you instructions later on how to delete a conversation from the history. This is a good site! What else have you bought from here?”
“Jack!”
“Mom. Don’t be such a prude.”
“I’m not a fucking prude!” Mom laughed another nervous laugh. “Just the knickers. Are you still on that site??”
“Yeah. I’m looking for your bra.”
“Jack!”
“What? Oh, I found it.” I did. I found the bra. “It’s set number 18, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I never would have guessed you’d buy stuff like that!”
Mom just shrugged. I smiled.
“You look fantastic, Mom.” I entered. And I continued: “I’m sorry you’re still with Dad. He isn’t remotely good enough for you.”
We’d been talking about Dad earlier and now that subject resurfaced.
“Life’s comfortable. I don’t think we’ve loved each other for years. But I’m sure you knew that. You always were a smart lad. And thanks for the compliment.”
I just smiled again.
“There’s a guy at work who’s always looking at my ass.”
“:O! Can’t blame him though. It is amazing. I wish Landy had an ass like yours.”
I watched Mom laugh. She didn’t seem astonished by my openness. We’d always been open with one another, but this subject was new to us. I feared she might try to work a way out of it so I knew I had to keep at it.
“It’s fucking huge!” she said.
“Yip.”
“I thought you liked boobs anyway. I remember those magazines in your room!”
“ahaha! Well, what can I say? I’m all about the curvy hourglass now. I wonder Freud might say that’s because of you!”
Mom seemed lost for an answer. “I see,” she said. “Back in a minute.”
“K”
She jumped out of her chair and walked away. My cock was throbbing like it had never done before. On the webcam, Mom could only see down to the middle of my waist, so I pulled off my jeans and freed my cock from my boxers. It’s a little longer than average – a little over 7 inches, I think – and very thick. I had a flash imagination of my mother, wearing just a thin white cotton shirt and G-string, slowly lowering herself with her back to me, moaning a high-pitched ‘ah’ as she became impaled on my penis. I almost jizzed right there and then, and the only time I’d touched my cock was to pulled it out of my boxers!
Mom returned, breaking my daydream, with what looked like a cup of coffee or tea, or maybe hot chocolate.
“What’s in the cup?” I asked.
“Coffee. Ish.”
“Ish? Did you put booze in it?”
“Irish whiskey!”
And it was a huge mug, too; perhaps twice the volume of a usual mug.
I opened the little door next to the computer tower. I’d had a little refrigerator installed there! I produced a bottle of ouzo and a bottle of lemonade, along with an icy glass.
“Ha! Beat this!” I said.
“Where do you get all that stuff??” Mom asked, aghast but still laughing and smiling enthusiastically.
“Interwebs. Poker pays for it.”
“I see.”
“Let’s get drunk, Mom. I haven’t seen you drunk since Lanzarote.”
“ahaha!” She remembered the time she and I, along with Dad, went to a posh restaurant and liked the Martinis so much that we ended up getting way too drunk. “Do you remember your Dad walking home by himself? ahaha!!” Mom was visibly amused.
“Yeah. We had a better time without him.”
“He’s a boring old git.”
Indeed I did remember that evening very well.
“I saw your boob that night.” I took a big swig of my drink.
“What??” Mom just smiled. She didn’t admonish me at all. This was going well.
“ahaha! Well, remember you were sat to my right. Your top was a cross-over thing. I don’t know what it’s called. When you got drunk, it fell open enough for me to see into it. Dad wouldn’t have been able to see anything from his side. I was delighted!”
“Oh Jesus!”
“Yes, you always were kind to me, Mom. Thanks for everything. :P” I pulled my tongue out at her on webcam too.
“ahahah! What can I say?” Mom shrugged openly with her arms in the air, indeed as if to say, ‘What can I say?’ “Hang on. That isn’t when you stopped being a boob man, is it?” she asked.
“I never stopped being a boob man. Sorry. I’m just an ass man too. And a legs man.”
Mom smiled. I think maybe she knew I was indirectly describing her. And in hindsight, I suppose she knew full well now that I was flirting with her. Maybe she even knew I was trying to push her buttons.
I knew I had to be delicate. I couldn’t just ask her to strip and fuck herself with a cucumber. I thought if I kept things humorous and a little silly… Well, who knows?
“Your right boob is a nice boob anyway. Is your other just as nice?”
“You’re so rude!” she typed, laughing and smiling.
“You showed me your bra five minutes ago and your boob last time I saw you drunk. And you say I’m rude!”
“Well, maybe you got it from me.”
“I wanted to grab it.”
“Grab what?”… “MY BOOB?!”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Well, boys will be boys, as they say! And it’s a good job you didn’t grab it! We’d have been thrown out!!” Mom continued to laugh on the screen.
I laughed too. “ahaha! I like how you say it’s a good job I didn’t grab your boob because we’d have been thrown out, rather than, you know, me being your son and all that!”
Mom’s expression turned into what I could only describe as a resigned smile.
“But that nipple was so appealing!”
“Jack!!!”
“They’re sticking out now too.”
Mom didn’t immediately see that message, as her huge mug was covering her line of vision to the screen. She put the mug down, read the message and her eyes opened wide. Fortunately, our internet connection was marvellous, so when she laughed and pressed two fingers from each hand onto her breasts, I saw the jiggle, that familiar undulation of the female breast. She only temporarily succeeded in depressing the nipples before they returned to their apparent state.
“Can’t push them down!” she said.
“Is it cold there?”
“No. Boiling actually.”
“You might have wanted to just say yes. You know, to stop me from thinking you’re turned on.”
“JACK!!”
“ahahaha! Oh, I love you, Mom. You’re so funny. How’s the drink?”
“And you’re naughty. The drink is fine, thank you very much.”
“You’re very sexy too. I hope you don’t mind my saying so.” I was completely sincere. She was in no means drunk but the alcohol had loosened her up a little. She seemed happy and bubbly, and this contributed to her looking like the MILF she is.
“Not bad for 42.”
“42? I guessed 42. :D”
“Oh thanks!” Mom said.
“I meant your hips, not your age. :P”
“Oh! Oh, I don’t know, actually. I’ve never measured it.”
“Get a measuring tape!”
“Right now?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Just a minute. Actually, two minutes.”
Mom left for a measuring tape. She grabbed her mug too.
This was incredible. From her expressions on screen I could tell Mom was more flattered than flustered. She obviously got male attention when she was out, but I suspect very few people, if any, ever actually complimented her. But I’d be damned if I were to stop now! I refilled my own glass as my mother returned. She dangled a tape in front of the webcam.
“Ready!” I said.
She stood up, evidently wrapping the tape around her hips, though it was just lower than the bottom edge of the window.
“Mom! Drop the webcam a bit. I can’t see.”
She reached forward and did so. For the first time I saw she was wearing those yoga pants I always admired as she wrapped the tape around the fullest part of her hips and bottom. I couldn’t see clearly enough to see the numbers.
“Holy shit. Those yoga pants.”
“That bloke at work likes them too.”
“Like I said: I can’t blame him. Come closer so I can see the number.”
It registered a little over 42 inches – perhaps 42½. “Oh my fucking god,” I entered. “That is so hot. Are you sure that tape isn’t slack at the back?”
Mom leaned down to read my messages. She laughed and shook her head before turning round to show the tape was indeed tight to her amazing round ass.
“If I were there right now…” I entered, and left that sentence hanging. I suddenly felt like I’d jumped forward a little too far. “I’d measure your waist too.”
Mum smiled and typed again. “What’s your guess?” she entered.
“umm. 28? I don’t know.”
Mom stood up again. She lifted her shirt, showing her tanned torso and revealing the bottom half of her hourglass. If she were black, she might have been one of those urban models with the equally outrageous hourglass figures. I shuffled in my chair, getting a stark reminder that my hard cock was still out in the open when it touched the underside of the keyboard tray! It had been a good job I’d stayed seated! Mom held the hem of the shirt just below her boobs as she pulled the tape around to the front of her waist and leaned forward. 29.
“29,” she said. “Need the gym.”
“Err. No. Don’t be silly.” I said. I considered putting ‘I’ll show you some fucking exercises next month, you fucking sexpot,’but I chickened out. But who knows? Maybe she’d had just taken such a comment in good spirit, given the way the conversation had advanced thus far!
Mom sat down again. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I detected naughtiness in her smile. It was like she was waiting on more requests.
“You’re very sexy, Mom. I hope you don’t mind my saying so.”
“You already said that!” she smiled.
I wanted to see her boobs. I couldn’t think of any other way than just asking her. The webcam was still aiming downwards, so I could only see from her forehead down to the bottom of her torso and her keyboard. Her boobs were right in the middle of the frame.
“That’s a nice view, Mom.”
“Rude!”
“Big,” I responded, boldly. “36C?” I gambled.
“Not far off.”
“34C?” I knew they were bigger than that. I just wanted her to tell me.
“36D,” she said. Then she put her hands under them and lifted them a little.
“They’re amazing. They look like they’re trying to rip your shirt open! Now there’s an idea…”
“ahahaha! No, they’re not that big. Your Landy’s are bigger, aren’t they?”
Landy was my French girlfriend. Well, I say girlfriend: “Friend with benefits” would be a more accurate description. “Actually, yeah. But they’re nowhere near as nice as yours,” I said. I just had to keep complimenting her. “Yours are amazing. At least your right one is. The left one could be nasty, as far as I know.”
“Ha! No. It’s just the same. Except for a mole.”
“You have a mole on your boob?”
I actually knew this. Of course, the time in Lanzarote wasn’t the only time I’d seen one of her boobs. I’d caught glimpses of her naked when I was younger, and I’d seen the mole before. I also knew it was very close to her nipple, almost in her areola.
“Show me?” I continued.
“No way.”
“Please?” I didn’t mind letting her know I was desperate. “Pleeease!”
My eyes never left the screen as Mom reached for the top hem of her cotton shirt, pulling it down to reveal a lovely expanse of soft white breasts and cleavage as well as the top quarter or so of her left bra cup.
What she did next was astonishing. She changed tactic, letting go of her shirt hem, temporarily disappointing me before lifting the shirt from the bottom instead, exposing her bra. Through the lacy top-half of each bra cup, I could now clearly see the brown tone of her areolae. She moved her right hand into her left bra cup, grabbing her breast and pulling it out of the cup before simply dropping the breast and bringing it close to the webcam. Her breast filled the screen as she pointed to the mole.
Mom’s breast was stunningly beautiful. The nipple was quite fat and engorged. She held the breast there for a good ten seconds before reaching for her nipple and tweaking it. It was an incredible sight.
And that sight was suddenly lost as Mom hurriedly stuffed herself back into her bra and straightened herself out.
“Your Dad’s here. Got to go,” she said. “Love you.”
“Love you too!”
And she signed off. I grabbed my cock and came within five seconds.
—
A month later, I’d finished my degree course and I was disembarking a plane in Tunis to meet with my parents.
In the meantime, I’d had another few online conversations with Mom but, while our manner was flirtatious – indeed, our relationship had probably been changed for ever – Dad was usually in the house, so we couldn’t reach the same heights as before. I hadn’t seen Landy. I couldn’t be bothered with her.
I met Mom and Dad at the airport. She looked her usual incredible self. They’d arrived an hour before I did, so Mom had had already changed into a yellow summer dress. I could barely look at her. She looked so sexy, it was obscene. Dad actually looked OK too, having lost about forty pounds. He was still overweight, and grey beyond his years.
There was no uneasiness; on the way to the hotel we chatted about the usual nothings families talk about and it was all cordial. When I said I wanted to stay in Geneva to do another degree – law, this time – Dad was elated. “What the fuck did you do philosophy for then?” Mom said. Then she just broke into a smile and shook her head.
Besides, the temperature was such that it was almost too difficult to think about anything else! The thermometer at the front desk of the hotel block said 46°C, and I don’t think it was broken. Reportedly, earlier in the week, the temperature had touched 50°C, a record high, in Luxor. I wondered with a smile how the temperatures would affect Mom’s choice of attire throughout the vacation.
I got a studio room all to myself, while Mom and Dad got another room – a two-bedroom suite, and I assumed they used both beds. I just had to assume that. I quickly doused myself down in the shower, which was delightfully cold in contrast to the sweltering North African heat, before putting on a pair of swim shorts, climbing over the balcony and walking, almost running, to the pool.
It was a fantastic pool too, and the reason I suggested this resort! It was nice and big and shaped – I smiled at the thought – like an hourglass, with a bridge over the middle. I was only on my fourth length when I spotted Mom and Dad walking out onto the veranda and then out into the open yard at the pool. Mother looked just wild in her blue bikini. I was flabbergasted to see she owned such a thing. The bikini top was of the triangular style. And while those triangles did cover her breasts appropriately, they showcased her goddess-like figure to perfection. Her thighs jiggled a little in perfect synchronicity with the bounce of her breasts, and as she saw me and waved, she let Dad walk ahead of her a little so she could blow me a kiss without him seeing.
I just kept looking at her as they walked to the sunbeds. I have no idea whether or not Dad noticed my gazing. I didn’t really care either, because there were dozens of other eyes fixed on Mom and her bodacious MILFy body too. How could I be blamed for just looking? As long as he didn’t know I wanted to fuck the shit out of his wife, all was well and good. And my cock didn’t half throb when Mom turned to put a towel on her sunbed.
As my mother lay back, I wondered if she’d later get in the pool with me. Looking around, I thought it would be a good idea to stop staring, and continued swimming.
After a while, Dad jumped in the pool with a rather crude splash. He must have asked how I was doing three times. He really didn’t know what to say, so I just told him about Carthage and its history for a few minutes before swimming away.
I tired somewhat and slowed down, before being startled by fingertips on my waist. I almost hit my mother before realising it was her!
“Hello, son!”
“I nearly went to kill you! I thought you were a… umm… a shark!” I said, as my shock turned to happiness in mid-sentence.
“Just your old ma. I didn’t notice how fit and healthy you looked on webcam!”
I clownishly flexed my arms while pulling my tongue out. I’m not hugely muscular by any means, but there is a swimming pool at my apartment block back in Switzerland and I tried to use it every day. I’d been quite unfit when I left England three years earlier, but now I was in good shape and I could swim for hours.