At the age of 19 I was home for the summer after just completing my first year, studying Law, at university. My older sister was away, nursing, in London. So it was just my Mum, Dad and I.
We were a close family and I got on well with both parents. My Dad was a practical, physical, type, earning a good living on the oil rigs in the North Sea. So he was often away for a couple of weeks at a stretch, then home on “shore leave” for 7-10 days.
My Mother was much more cerebral. An English graduate, who taught the subject at a local school (thankfully not the one I’d attended). Cerebral as she was, she was also vivacious and a lot of fun. And was one of those warm, tactile, people that others almost immediately warmed to.
She was also very attractive, with immaculately coiffured brunette hair, piercing blue eyes and a curvy, womanly figure. She’d embraced the relatively new trend for aerobics. And regular classes were ensuring she remained in excellent shape. So, even in her mid to late 40s I noticed that she still turned heads, wherever we went. And I’m bound to say that, having been away from her for almost all of the last several months I found I was noticing, probably more than I should have, how attractive and desirable she was.
I’d really enjoyed my first year away. But it was good to be home and I was looking forward to a decent break from studying. But, before I could do that, I’d secured a month of work experience with a local firm of solicitors. So during the week I was off to my 9 to 5 job. And my Mother was still teaching, though the end of term (and with it a long break for her) approached.
Whilst away in Uni I’d found my first steady girlfriend. And had been having regular – and in my limited experience – passionate sex with her. In fact I’d been congratulating myself on my good fortune in finding such an enthusiastic lover. The downside of that was that I’d got used to this. And was finding it hard, now that I was home, to revert to porn mags and wanking.
Back in those days, certainly in our provincial town, casual hook-ups were very rare. And you could only persuade someone to sleep with you after several dates. Whilst I’d have been happy to have meaningless sex with a stranger, I felt that having lots of dates (potentially leading to more meaningful sex) would be cheating on my girlfriend. Twisted logic I know, but it’s hard to make sense of a horny teenage mind. So I determined, in my own eccentric way, to maintain fidelity. And committed to not going out chasing young local girls over the summer.
But, that said, I’d found myself looking covetously at a number of the women in the law firm I worked at. Particularly the “milfy” office manager. As well as a few of our neighbours and some friends of my Mum. And, though I was ashamed to admit it, I was also (as I wrote above) increasingly noticing what a good looking (indeed sexy) woman my Mother was.
None of this was helped by the long, hot, summer we were enjoying. Everywhere I looked I was aware of attractive women, in the skimpiest of clothing. Not least at home where my Mother seemed to be spending an awful lot of time wearing very little indeed.
I’d often come home and find her sunbathing in a bikini in the back garden. And she was regularly parading around the house in knickers and a vest, often braless. With that bralessness making me aware that her nipples were large and prominent.
Finally, that tactility I mentioned earlier was especially apparent with me. We were always a loving family and, from an early age, I was showered in love and affection. Manifesting itself, to this day, in a lot of all embracing cuddles. Having been away for several months in college my Mother was particularly affectionate on my return, regularly grabbing me and pulling me to her chest.
“My little boy is all grown up and has left me,” she’d say, “but I need to remind you that Mummy still loves you and needs lots of cuddles from my baby.”
Said in jest of course, but the warm, tight, cuddles were very real. With my Mother unaware, seemingly, that when she did this she was almost invariably holding me tight to her (very impressive) chest, with our groins touching.
All of which meant that I was increasingly viewing my Mother as a sexual being. And this view – and my frustration – was exacerbated by the fact that, when my Dad was home it was apparent that they were enjoying quite a lot of very vigorous sex. Either I’d never noticed it before, or they were being less discreet than they used to be. I found I was regularly seeing my Dad fondling my Mother. Nothing too overt, but certainly loving and affectionate, for example, groping her arse. But the biggest indicator was the banging of the headboard and the gasps and groans from their bedroom late at night. Happy as I was that they still “carried a torch” for each other, it highlighted my own discomfort and frustrations.
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My Dad and I shared lots of sporting interests. But my Mother and I bonded over the written word. Regularly discussing literature and sharing new and classic authors with each other. As a spin off from this, over a number of years we’d developed a habit of doing the cryptic crossword together. And, now that I was home, with my Dad away, we’d often sit in bed at the weekend, drinking tea and pouring over the clues of the one of the broadsheet puzzles.
So, one Saturday morning we were doing just that. Sitting, side by side, propped up against some pillows with mugs of tea beside us on the bedside table.
On this occasion I was finding it almost impossible to concentrate and had contributed nothing to the crossword. My Mother was wearing what used to be (probably still is) described as a negligee. It was flimsy and satiny, short on the leg and cut loose andvery low at the front. So much so that as I glanced across I could see her tits and nipples very clearly. I was ashamed to discover that this view, coupled with us sitting so closely (so that we could view the clues together) that our bare legs were touching, led to a spontaneous, very hard, erection.
“Come on Jack,” my Mother chided, after some time, “I don’t think you’ve got one clue yet. Look, go and make yourself useful and go and bring us fresh mugs of tea.”
“Mmm, not just yet, I’ll go in a few minutes,” I demurred, hoping that would give time for my erection (which I could now feel was poking out of my shorts) to abate.
But my Mother was having none of this.
“Don’t be so lazy,” she directed, flinging the duvet back as she said this. Leaving my dick, at full mast, clearly on display. It was both cripplingly embarrassing and more than a little ludicrous.
My Mother seemingly, whilst surprised and shocked, was taking this in her stride. And did not appear to be suffering from the shock and shame that I was.
“Oh my goodness,” she chuckled, “I can see now why you didn’t want to get out of bed. You poor thing,” she added, sympathetically. “But look, its perfectly natural. Why don’t you take care of that whilst I go down and make us a cup of tea? Because we certainly wouldn’t Mrs Higgins opposite to look through the window and see that whilst you boiled the kettle.”
She hoisted herself out of bed (causing her tits to sway further) and moved to the doorway, where I could now see that the negligee was as short as it was low cut. Neither of which did anything to encourage my erection to subside.
“I’ll give you some time to “take matters in hand,” she suggested, with a leery grin on her face. Before traipsing downstairs to the kitchen.
I was shocked and confused, on several levels: principally by the fact that my Mother had been the cause of an erection so strong that it was almost painful; then also by how “matter of fact” she was being about this; and finally appalled (but also turned on) by her apparent suggestion to masturbate in her bed whilst she made us tea!
That said – and despite her encouragement – I really didn’t feel comfortable about having a wank in my parents bed whilst she was downstairs sorting out our refreshments. So I lay there and focused on the crossword, giving my erection time to subside. Though, excited as I was, that took longer than I’d anticipated.
When she returned, after placing the mugs of tea beside us, she pulled the duvet back again and made a point of checking my groin. My dick had (finally) deflated and I’d tucked it back into my shorts.
“All sorted?” she asked, with a cheeky glint in her eye.
“Mum,” I protested, “no, I haven’tsorted it. And anyway, it’s none of your business.”
“Just concerned about my little boy’s welfare,” she teased, “sexual or otherwise. Anyway, let’s see if we can crack this crossword. It’s a tough one today.”
So I tried my best to focus on the clues and for 5-10 minutes I was able to do that. Sadly, the proximity to my Mother (she was sitting so close once more that our legs were touching) and the continued distraction of her tits in the flimsy nightwear led to another erection in my disorderly dick. And my input to cracking the crossword once again dried up.
My Mother, intuitive as ever, seemed to sense this. Looking across at me with a glint in her eye she threw back the duvet and was, for the second time that morning, confronted by my unruly member sticking rigidly out of my shorts.
“Jack,” she shrieked, but with more amusement than horror. “What’s got into you? Are your hormones running amok? Surely the idea of a crossword with your old Mum isn’t causing all these erections?” she chuckled.
“Of course not,” I spluttered in apology.
I most certainly wasn’t going to admit to the vision of her heaving tits being the source of my arousal. So I gave an alternative explanation. “It’s just that I’m missing my girlfriend back in Uni.”
“Oh,” my Mother responded, with a wicked grin. “So the lovely girl we met when we picked up you and your belongings a few weeks back has been “taking care” of my little boys needs?”
I’m bound to say that, whilst we’d always had a close, quite “adult” relationship, I hadn’t anticipated my Mother being so open about my sexual experiences. I was finding it both uncomfortable and arousing. With my arousal, at least in part, contributing to my discomfort.
“And there I was, thinking that my handsome young man was getting excited by the proximity of my fleshy, middle aged, body.” she continued, in a similarly teasing vein, pushing her chest out and accentuating her tits as she said this.
Thinking with my dick and making a decision that was, ultimately, to have a profound impact on my sexual development over the next several months, I took a deep breath and confided in my Mother.
“Right,” I began, “seeing as you asked, right now it is you that’s been the cause of my erections. Sitting next to you, in that flimsy negligee, with your boobs almost bursting out and your nipples apparent, is what’s put my hormones into overdrive. Though it’s also true that I’m missing my girlfriend and the great sex we’ve been having.”
For a few seconds my Mother was so shocked she said nothing. I wondered, initially, if she thought I was joking. But she could tell by my blushing expression and body language that I was deadly serious.
“Oh my goodness Jack,” she croaked, as she finally found her voice. “I’m so sorry, I really hadn’t realised it was me. I never imagined for a second that a good looking young man like you would be aroused by an old maid like me.”
“Well,” I started to explain, “it’s not something that I would have imagined either until recently. But you are not an old maid and, wrong as it is, I’ve recently started to realise and appreciate how attractive you. Especially, as I just said, seeing your boobs almost falling out of that nightdress,” I concluded, with a sheepish smile.
Having seen this, initially, as something humorous and light hearted the gravity of the situation was starting to dawn on my Mother. Her much loved son was laying next to her with a raging boner and I’d just confessed that she – and her heaving bosom – was the cause of it.
Realising this she tried to regain a little of the moral high ground.
“Oh Jack, my darling. I’m so sorry. I had no idea the effect I was having you. And I do apologise for teasing you and making light of the situation. That’s unforgivable of me. I just thought it was a bit of fun. But I can see now that you are in need of relief. And I appear – inadvertently – to be the cause of of that need.”
“I’m afraid you are,” I agreed. “I don’t want to go out chasing the local girls and getting into the complexities of a girl at home and a girl back at Uni. But that has meant that I’ve been viewing you in a light that I’d never imagined I would,” I confessed. “Not helped of course by how sexy I’ve come to appreciate you are,” I ended, with an embarrassed grin.
“Well, thank you for the compliments,” my Mother smiled. “That’s really sweet of you. But look,” she continued, “we’re both adults. And your reaction is instinctive and natural. So please don’t be upset or embarrassed. I really am sorry I’ve been teasing you. But it is genuinely flattering to see the effect I can still have on a handsome, horny, young man. Even if it is my son,” she grinned. “So, as I suggested earlier, why don’t you take care of things and give yourself that relief?”
“I think you’re right,” I agreed, starting to raise from the bed, “I can’t focus on anything until I’ve got off,” I reported shyly.
Putting her hand on my chest as I rose my Mother surprised me, once more.
“No need to go,” she suggested quietly, “why don’t you just relieve yourself here?”
“Don’t worry,” I answered, thinking that she meant to leave, allowing me to masturbate whilst she went elsewhere. “It’s your room so no need for you to go. You stay here and I’ll go to my room.”
“No, you idiot,” she grinned, “I’m suggesting that we both stay here. I know exactly what you are going to do. So there is no need to be coy. Plus, seeing as I’ve been the cause of this excitement I’d actually really like to see the culmination of it. That’s if you don’t mind?” she finished, with a shy grin.
“What????” I spluttered, “you’re suggesting you’d like to watch me beat off?”
“How wonderfully poetic of you,” she chuckled. “But yes, that is what I’m suggesting. I know you’ve been embarrassed by what’s happened so far. But I really think we have a close and comfortable enough relationship to do this. And actually I can’t imagine it will be any more embarrassing than when I first drew the duvet back and saw your cock poking out. Plus, you might find you like an audience,” she concluded shyly. “I know I do.”
Writing this, several years later, I can still clearly recall my incredulity at my Mother’s suggestion. This was not a scenario that I ever envisioned I’d find myself in. Over the coming weeks and months our relationship developed further. But it did that in a series of iterations. So it was this initial morning – and particularly this suggestion that she wanted to watch me wanking (with the added twist that she seemed to like being watched herself) – that was such a seismic shift.
Alongside that incredulity I can also recall the excitement I felt then (and feel now at the recollection) about her proposal. I knew – we both did – that by every societal norm this was wrong and inappropriate. But it was also massively arousing and I’m not ashamed to admit I gave it very little thought before agreeing.
Throwing back the duvet fully, I shrugged off my shorts and lay back as I, slowly at first, began to rub my cock.
My Mother appeared to enjoy looking at both my young (and at that time athletic) body and my hard, pulsing, cock. But I also got a strong sense that she was flattered and aroused herself by my very obvious interest in her and her body. With this idea tying in to her comment moments ago about enjoying being watched.
For a few minutes the two of us were taking mutual delight in my actions, until I made a suggestion.
“Couldn’t you do this for me?” I asked, cheekily.
“Oh no, I really don’t think that would be appropriate,” my Mother responded, clearly a little shocked at what I’d asked. Which, when I reflected back later was completely daft considering that much, if not all, of what we were doing had been initiated by her.
Even there in the moment, I was sure that laying next to my Mother, wanking myself whilst admiring – in fact leering at – her swaying tits was not what the vast majority of people would consider “”appropriate”. But I chose not to labour the point. Concentrating instead on bringing myself some much needed relief, whilst continuing to feast visually on her sensational tits.
That said, my Mother seemed unusually interested in my dick (in fact the whole situation was considerably beyond “unusual”) and she, if I wasn’t mistaken, looked a little flushed and excited herself.
As I lay back on the bed she lay on her side, next to me, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked down at me. Her tits were heaving inside her negligee, but I was desperate to see them in all their glory. So I made a further suggestion.
“Look,” I said, “if you won’t give me a hand can I at least see your boobs properly?”
“Ooh, you’re a cheeky sod, just like your father,” she chuckled. “I suppose it can’t do any more harm. But you can look, but don’t touch.”
Seconds later, she shrugged the flimsy shoulder straps down and her tits tumbled out. I’m bound to say, they were even finer than I’d imagined. So much so that my cock, already close to bursting, twitched involuntarily.
“Crikey, you weren’t joking, they really are having an effect on you,” my Mum commented as she noticed this, “I didn’t think you’d like saggy old things like these,” though she preened a little as she said this.
With my Mother by my side, so close we were touching, she leaned over and started gently caressing my chest. Once again, I winced at the intimacy of this touch.
“Wow,” she observed, “all that time in the gym is paying off, these pecs of yours are looking good,” which she followed up by gently tweaking a nipple.
“Shit,” I exclaimed, with a shudder, as my cock twitched again. “that feels good.”
“Oh, you like that do you?” she chuckled, “you really are like your Dad. You’ve clearly got sensitive nipples.” As she combined caressing my chest and upper abdomen with further tweaks to my nipple (an erogenous zone that, until then I didn’t know I had).
I could have done without references to my Father. But, whilst I would have preferred my Mum to be wanking me, I was enjoying the physical contact I was having. So I kept quiet. But what I wasn’t able to do was resist my Mum’s own nipples. As she was leaning in to massage my chest they were now hanging down, just inches away from me. And it appeared, from how erect and prominent they were (and the way her breathing was becoming more laboured) that I might not be the only one that was aroused.
Reaching up slightly, I took one of them into my mouth and gave it a very gentle suck.
“Ooh, you naughty boy,” she gasped, trembling now herself. “I told you not to touch.” For just a few seconds she let me continue to suckle, causing me to hope that she may allow further interaction. Until she pushed me away and gave me a gentle slap.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist. Your boobs are perfect and your nipples are insanely sexy,” I explained. “And anyway, I licked, not touched,” I suggested with with a grin.
“You really are the cheekiest of sods,” she admonished. But with amusement, not irritation, in her demeanour. “Now stop pushing your luck any further and take care of the mighty weapon that’s throbbing away in front of you.”
Realising I’d got as far as I was going to, I laid back and concentrated on doing just that. I knew that the situation, fucked up as it was on many levels, was so impossibly horny that I really wouldn’t last long. But, as much as I was able to, I wanted to put on a decent show for my Mother. My rationale being that, if she enjoyed the spectacle she may wish to repeat it. Or even go further.
As I slowly played with myself my Mother, in the latest in a succession of shocks, began a running commentary – and a pretty ribald one at that – on my efforts.
“Ooh go on Jack, wank that cock. You’re balls look full to bursting. What a bad boy you are, getting turned on by your old Mum’s pendulous breasts and big nipples.”
The effect of this was to turn me on even further. My Mother seldom used bad language, so hearing her “talk dirty” like this was as exciting as it was unexpected.
“Imagine wanting me to play with your cock. And trying to suck my tits. You are sooo bad. Now, come on, let me see your jizz shoot out,” she urged.
That encouragement proving the final trigger for my much needed orgasm.
“Ooooh, oooh, oooh, here it comes, YESSSS,” I gasped, as a volley of spunk left my cock, flying all the way up to my chest and covering one of the nipples that my Mother had just been playing with.
“Oh my goodness,” my Mother laughed, “what a load. I’d forgotten the ferocity of a young man’s orgasm.”
I lay back on the bed, recovering from the power of my ejaculation. But most of all astonished at the manner of it. It was at my own hand of course. But laying inches away from my Mother who was watching avidly and providing a running commentary. An extraordinary departure to my normal Saturday morning activities.
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That evening I went out with some old school mates for several pints in the pub. Many of them were doing their best to chat up the single young women who were around. But tempted as I was, as I wrote above, I was not keen to complicate matters by having a woman at home and another back at University. Plus, I was in turmoil about what my Mother and I had shared that morning. I was in almost equal parts repulsed and aroused. With arousal just about shading it. In fact, who was I could kidding, arousal was definitely my principal emotion.
The following day, Sunday, once again neither of us were working. So, with a pretty sore head after too many beers, I shuffled back into my parent’s room, clutching two mugs of tea, with the Sunday papers, which had just been delivered, under my arm.
I was astonished to see, as I walked into the room, my Mum propped up against the pillows, reading a magazine without a top on and her tits proudly on display.
“Oh my God,” I sputtered, “I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by such a wonderful sight.”
And I really wasn’t. I was a maelstrom of emotions after yesterday morning’s events. I’d been – and remained – enormously turned on. But also guilty and more than a little ashamed. Part of me hoped yesterday may be the start of a more prolonged sexual relationship. But another part wanted to rewind the clock and forget anything had happened. So, with all these conflicting emotions I’d determined that I was not going to take the initiative and suggest anything further.
Clearly, my Mother had other ideas. And, as she’d done yesterday, she was the one taking the lead. Or, at at the very least illustrating her comfort in me seeing – if not leering at – her tits again.
And, despite my misgivings, my cock (as it had a wont to) betrayed me by becoming immediately erect. Which was clearly apparent, once again, through my sleeping shorts.
“Well,” she grinned, “you clearly like my tits. As you demonstrated yesterday and again right now, with your hard on. Plus, whilst you’ve been away I’ve got very comfortable in wearing almost next to nothing at home. So, now that you’ve seen my tits there’s not much point in me having any false modesty. Though, I’m happy to put a top on if you are uncomfortable? Though the way your shorts are tenting suggests otherwise,” she concluded with a leery grin.
And she was right, my erection was twitching in my shorts as I drunk in the splendour of her tits.
“It looks to me that you won’t be able to focus on the crossword until you’ve released the pressure in your balls. So come on, get into bed with me and wank yourself off again so that we can enjoy the papers together.”
Needing no further encouragement, I slipped down my shorts and leapt onto the bed, with my cock bobbing away in front of me.
We assumed similar positions to the previous morning, with me on my back and my Mother propped on an elbow next to me. I began slowly playing with myself with my eyes focused, alternately, on my Mother’s tits and her face. She was, quite literally, licking her lips and I could see what I was sure was arousal writ all over it.
That supposition was confirmed moments later.
“Oh fuck Jack, it’s so horny watching you, I’ve got to give myself some relief too,” she exclaimed, as she dipped a finger into the waistband of her knickers.
I was, momentarily, struck dumb, at the sight of my Mother masturbating, albeit my view was partially obscured by the flimsy material. God, it was an erotic sight. Indeed, to this day, the sight of a woman playing with herself under her knickers remains one of my biggest turn-ons.
I paused my own wanking momentarily as I watched my Mother. Remembering that she’d disclosed yesterday that she enjoyed being observed I determined to do just that. So, whilst only idly playing with my cock, I spent a few minutes watching her frigging herself. Albeit with my view still obscured by her slinky lingerie.
Seeing that I’d stopped ministering to my own genitals she paused herself.
“Come on Jack, let’s do this together,” she urged, in a throaty grunt. “We’ll both find it exciting.”
For a few minutes I did just that and discovered that she was right. It was hugely erotic to lay, side by side, masturbating together. But I decided to chance my arm again.
“Why don’t we do this to each other?” I suggested. “You can wank me off and I’ll play with you?”
“Oh Jack,” she sighed, “that’s an appealing thought. But we really, really, shouldn’t even be doing this. So let’s not get any deeper into things.”
But then, after a slight pause, she relented slightly, “just come here and give my tits a little attention,” she demanded. “It’s a huge turn on on for me and I loved it when you did that yesterday.”
Needing absolutely no further bidding I latched on to the nearest nipple and began to lightly suck and nibble on it, emulating what my girlfriend back in Uni had told me she enjoyed.
Clearly so did my Mother as she was immediately breathing more heavily and holding my head to her chest. An action that brought the rest of my body into closer contact with her.
Predictably, I saw this as a “green light”, a sign to go further. So, as my mother held me tightly I moved my hand from her hip to her groin and slipped it between her legs. Where a finger slid in effortlessly to her pussy, as she was dripping wet.
Momentarily this caused her to tremor and gasp before, with a sigh, she pushed me away.
But it seemed to be a sigh of reluctance, not exasperation.
“Jack darling,” she admonished, “I told you, we can’t go any further than we are. Please don’t make this difficult. Let’s just get ourselves off.”
Acceding to her wishes for a further few minutes we lay, side by side, working ourselves towards sexual gratification. Having detached myself from her nipple I was wanking myself, with my dick slapping against my Mother’s hip and abdomen. As I l looked down I could see that she was also masturbating furiously. With the fingers of one hand sawing away in her pussy and another rubbing her clit.
It was incredibly horny and I was close to orgasm. But my Mother beat me to it.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh FUCK, YESSSSSSS!!!!!!!” she cried, shuddering against me as a huge orgasm ripped through her.
With this erotic sight and sound triggering my own.
“Aaagh, arrgh, I’m coming, COMINGGGGG……” I gasped, as I spewed several jets of spunk over my Mother’s belly.
We both lay back on the bed, gasping after the orgasms we’d just enjoyed, before my Mother surprised me, yet again, by starting to cry. Not just sniveling, but proper racking sobs. I really was astonished and confused.
“Oh Jack darling, what have we done?” she wailed. “We should never, ever, have done that. I should have been so much stronger and not given into my desires like that.”
“Hey come here,” I encouraged, “pulling her to me and holding her tight to my chest and stroking her hair. With, of course, a flimsy pair of her knickers the only thing between us.
“What are you so upset about?” I queried, “we haven’t had sex, just masturbated together. And its not that different to what we did yesterday. Its just that you joined in today,” I chuckled.
“Just masturbated together?” she whimpered, “don’t you see how wrong that is? I’m your Mother for goodness sake.”
Then, seeing my bemusement, she continued, “yesterday it was all about you getting relief from your painful erection. So I was able to pretend – with some twisted logic – that I was just encouraging you to get what you needed. But today, I was overcome with lust and a desire for my own relief. And I ended up frigging myself in front of you, allowing you – in fact encouraging you – to suck my tits. And letting you cover me in spunk. But worst of all enjoying it! What sort of a Mother am I? And how will you ever recover from the trauma?”
“Oh my God Mum, I’m so so sorry,” I assured her, upset myself now. “Please, please don’t worry. Can’t you tell how much I enjoyed that. Do I look traumatised? I’m grinning from ear to ear.”
This time she was at least able to smile through her tears at the absurdity of the situation.
“Oh Jack, that’s kind of you to say,” she agreed, “but it doesn’t justify my inexcusable behaviour.”
“Oh Mum, please, please, don’t worry. I really, really, enjoyed what we’ve just done and I don’t regret if for a second. So neither should you.”
“Jack, that’s really sweet of you. And I hope you are right. But I fear not. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up and see if, somehow, we can put this behind us,” she suggested.
After we’d both showered I gave her a big hug and did my best to reassure her again as we went down to breakfast. But my Mother remained visibly upset and concerned.
In fact, things were a little strained between us for the rest of that day. We spent most of the day apart but ate dinner together and watched a little TV in companionable, but awkward, silence. It seemed my Mother, despite my protestations to the contrary, was still wrestling with guilt and recriminations at “defiling” me.
As we both trooped off to bed, with a busy week ahead of us, I pulled her to me for another huge hug, ensuring it was completely non-sexual.
“Mum, I really do love you,” I assured her. “Please, please, don’t worry about what we’ve been doing together this weekend. I know it’s massively unusual and most people – maybe all – would consider it “wrong”. But I certainly don’t think that.”
“Oh Jack,” she whimpered, “thank you so much. I’m so worried I’ve overstepped the mark. In fact, leapt over, not just over-stepped. It’s just that I get so horny and miss your Dad. But I should never have let my needs overcome me like that. I should have done what I usually do and gone the bed with my trusty vibrator.”
This disclosure, though not completely unexpected, was certainly arousing. Causing my cock to twitch in my shorts. An action that was not lost on my Mother.
“Why on earth have I been worrying?” she manged to chuckle. “I’m Mother to a sex fiend. Which isn’t that surprising given my own sexual appetites,” she confessed. “The slightest encouragement and you’re halfway to an erection.”
“Actually, a lot more than halfway,” I assured her, given my groin a rub.
But then, turning serious, I looked my Mother deep into her eyes.
“Look Mum,” I begun, “I completely understand your concerns and misgivings. I don’t know myself if what we’ve done is “right.” But what I do know is that I enjoyed it very, very, much indeed. Both yesterday and today. I don’t feel revulsion or shame, quite the opposite in fact. I feel even closer to you than we’ve ever been. If we never repeat it, I’ll be comfortable with that. And grateful for the excitement that we had. But, if you do decide you’d like to continue then I’m well up for it. But it’s entirely your call.” I concluded.
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The following day I was rushing out of the house in the morning and then went directly to the gym after work. The two of us arrived home at similar times as my Mother had been to a late departmental meeting at the school.
She poured me an ice cold drink to help me cool down, before sitting me down with a pensive, almost pained, expression.
“Right Jack, we’ve got some serious talking to do,” she began. “I’ve reflected a lot on our actions over the weekend. And I’ve come to some conclusions and have an idea that may benefit us both. But that is dependent, very much, on your own views.”
I had a feeling this might be a positive development. But I wasn’t certain. So, for now, I kept quiet and let my Mother go on.
“You made it apparent last night that, as unusual and unexpected as our “interactions” were, they weren’t unwelcome to you. And I’m delighted that you appear mature and sensible enough to be happily processing what we’ve done.”
“You’re right” I agreed, “I was taken completely by surprise. But it was a very pleasant surprise. So please, please, don’t worry that it’s had, or will have, a detrimental effect on me. Or on our relationship.”
“Bless you for that,” my Mother enthused, pulling me in for a big hug.
“I was hoping and expecting that to be the case. Which makes what I’m about to suggest seem all the more likely to meet with your approval.”
I was delighted at where this might be heading, but prior to my Mother disclosing exactly what she had in mind she wanted to give me further context.
“Before I tell you what I’m proposing it’s important you get some background and understand my thinking,” she explained. “Please let me give you a full explanation before I make my suggestion. Is that OK?”
“Of course,” I agreed immediately. “Take your time and tell me as much or little as you think I need to hear.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged. “I really appreciate that. I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of slut, but I’ve always had a high sex drive and it seems, if anything, to be getting even stronger,” she explained, with a wry smile. “Your Dad certainly isn’t complaining and I’m pleased to say he’s more than a match for me. However he’s away quite a lot of the time of course. So I find myself getting extremely frustrated.”
Pausing to see how I was processing this she asked, with a concerned frown, “Are you sure this isn’t too much for you to take in?”
“Not at all,” I confirmed, “in fact, I really appreciate your honesty and you taking me into your confidence.”
“I’m really pleased – and relieved – to hear that,” she said. “I thought that would be the case. And let me say again, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of the maturity you are displaying in this bizarre situation. In the interests of full disclosure, I should also make you aware that the way I’ve dealt with my own feelings over several years has been to use a variety of sex toys to alleviate my frustrations until your Dad returns.”
I raised my eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing to disturb the flow of her story.
“One final thing I should make you aware of,” she went on, with a cheeky grin, “and this is something of an aside, but I’ve got quite the “potty mouth”. As you know I love the written and spoken word. And I like to use it to express myself fully when I have sex. Or even when talking about it.”
“Right,” she concluded, “I think that’s all the background you need. How do you feel about this?”
“Wow,” I acknowledged, “that is an awful lot to take in. But, given what I’ve discovered over the last few days none of this is a huge surprise. Including the potty mouth,” I laughed. “That said of course, a week ago I’d never have suspected any of that,” I revealed. “So are you now able to tell me your proposal?”
“Of course,” she agreed, “I certainly am. And I’m not sure, given what I’ve just disclosed, that it will cause you either too much shock, or revulsion. What I’m suggesting is that rather than masturbate alone, we masturbate together. How does that sound?”
“That sounds an absolutely splendid idea,” I agreed in a flash. “Given that we are doing exactly the same, in our solitary bedrooms, it makes perfect sense for us to do it communally.”
“Exactly what I’ve been thinking,” my Mother concurred. “There’s no longer any point in subterfuge or pretense. And we’ll clearly get a lot more pleasure from doing it together. But, just to be clear, we’ll be wanking, but not fucking. Are you OK with that?”
“I am,” I agreed, just a little reluctantly, “but I’m always open to reviewing that decision,” I smiled.
“No way Jose,” my Mother assured me. “That’s not up for review. But come on,” my Mother urged, “no time like the present, let’s get to it!”
Racing upstairs, pulling my Mother by the hand behind me, I went straight to my room and tore off my sweaty gym kit in a matter of seconds. My Mother was very close behind me, divesting herself of her skirt and blouse in similarly rapid time.
We tumbled onto the bed and, as we’d done the previous days, began to masturbate. Me tugging on my cock and my Mother gently fingering her pussy.
As sweaty as I was after my workout my Mother pulled me to her.
“Come on Jack darling, suck my tits,” she implored. “I loved it when you did that. They are so sensitive.”
For a few minutes I grazed and nuzzled a nipple as my Mother cradled my head, gasping and writhing against me. Then, surprising me further, she took a hand and moved it downwards to her groin.
“No fucking,” she insisted, “but let’s get each other off. I’m so turned on it won’t take long. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Then I’ll wank you off,” she informed me. “Is that OK?”
“God yes, I’m up for that,” I assured her (it was already more than I was hoping for), as I dipped a finger into her soaking wet pussy. Causing her to immediately spasm and gasp.
“Bloody hell,” I laughed, “you’re not joking, you really are turned on.”
My Mother said nothing, but pulled me back to her chest so that I latched onto a nipple again whilst I began to finger fuck her.
At that stage of my sexual career I was far from an expert in that regard. But I’d learnt, largely through trial and error with my girlfriend in Uni, roughly what worked. But on this occasion I was initially, partly through excitement and partly inexperience, a little too vigorous in my actions. Thankfully my Mother was more than prepared to take the lead and explain what worked for her.
“Not so rough and not so fast,” she directed. “Tease my clit gently with your thumb and slowly work two fingers in and out of my pussy.”
I was keen to please, so I did just that (and looking back was very grateful for the guidance). I was more reserved in my actions and watchful of my Mother’s reactions, picking up from her responses what worked best.
As I followed her instructions she was writhing and gasping by the side of me.
“Suck my tits again,” she demanded, ” and keep going exactly as you are. I’m close already……….”
Doing my best to continue following her lead I maintained gentle, but firm, pressure on her clit. And then built up, inexorably, a faster pace of finger fucking. By now I’d stopped sucking her tits and was focusing entirely on her pussy.
“Aaaaargh, aaargh, yessss, that’s it…………keep going……………..just a little faster……aaarghhh……FUCKKKKKKKK,” she cried, as a huge, juddering climax hit her.
Laying gasping on the bed my Mother looked up with a huge smile.
“Wow,” she reported, “you seem to know your way around a woman’s body. Or, maybe more accurately, you’re certainly happy to be directed and you’re a quick learner. Either way, that was fantastic. Just what I needed,” she reported, causing me to beam with pride.
“Right, you’re turn now. Let’s see that spunk fly.”
“God, yes please,” I responded. “You said you were close, but I may be just seconds away from coming,” I informed her.
“That’s not surprising,” she agreed, “but I’ll do my best to prolong things for you, to maximise your enjoyment.”
Whilst my Mother had suggested that I knew my way around a woman’s body it was immediately apparent that she was particularly adept at handling a man’s dick.
She took a firm, but not overly rough, grip and began to slowly wank me.
“Oh shit, yessssss……”I hissed, “that’s so good. Almost too good,” I grunted.
She could see and hear that (as I’d predicted) I was immediately close to coming. So she paused and gripped me hard at the root of my cock, allowing my imminent orgasm to abate. In fact, I could almost feel the spunk retreating back down my shaft!.
Then, looking me in the eye, with her tits swaying in front of her, she repeated the procedure. In fact, for several minutes she followed the same steps. A little later I discovered that this was known as edging. But at the time I was unfamiliar with the term. What I did know was that I was experiencing conflicting emotions. Huge pleasure and excitement at the exquisite nature of my Mother’s caresses (if caress could be applied to the firm grip she had on me.) Though coupled with frustration, if not desperation, at my need to orgasm.
“Shit Mum, I’m loving this. But I really, really, need to come,” I informed her.
My mother seemed to be enjoying both my pleasure and discomfort. She initially ignored my protestations and continued to squeeze the root of my shaft every time she sensed my release was imminent. Until, finally taking pity on me, she looked up with a huge grin.
“Come on then baby,” she urged, “let’s get these big, full, balls emptied,” as she cupped them with one hand and masturbated me firmly, but methodically, with the other. After just a few strokes I exploded.
“Aargh, argh,argh, FUCK, YESSSSSSSS…….” I exclaimed, clenching my buttocks as I fired several powerful jets of semen, with the first blast looping up and striking one of my Mother’s hanging nipples.
“Wow,” my Mother chuckled, “that really was a big one. I can’t believe the force it came out with. And how warm your spunk is,” as she rubbed it onto her breast. Causing my dick, which was still hard, to twitch at the sight of it.
“Oh my God, thank you,” I gasped, as I collapsed on the bed. That was so much better than when I do it myself. You’re really good at that,” I grinned.
“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it, ” she smiled. “At the risk of offending your delicate sensibilities and shattering the innocent view you may have of me I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.”
“Well,” I laughed, “I’m not going to be too judgmental. I guess I realised you wouldn’t be that good just on raw talent. Mind you, over the last few years I’ve had plenty of practice too, albeit on my own cock. But you’re still better at bringing me off than I am myself. Maybe it’s the sight of those wonderful tits,” I suggested. “Whatever it is, you’ll have do a lot more of it.”
“I’m more than happy to,” she agreed. “Now that I’m getting over my misgivings I must confess I found it, as I suspected it would be, a turn on for me too. Plus, you really were good at frigging me. And will get even better with more practice. Getting each other off is certainly much better than getting ourselves off,” she agreed, with a guilty smile.
So, with this precedent set, for the next few days we went through variations of this theme. Mutually masturbating and become more familiar with each others bodies and what turned each other on.
As she’d alerted me a few days ago, two things that seemed to really excite my Mother were visual stimulus and “talking dirty”. She loved to watch me wanking and was particularly eager to get really close to my cumshot. Delighting in seeing it shoot out. Then squealing when I covered her tits and body with my jizz. And she was equally at home in letting me watch her come to orgasm. Occasionally at her own hands but more often that not as I fingered her.
And all of this peppered with a string of obscenities as she exhorted me on. With encouragement for me to do the same to her.
A couple of days after we’d began wanking together I made another proposal to her.
“You told me you’d been making use of sex toys whilst Dad is away. How about you let me watch you using them? I think that would be a huge turn on.”
I didn’t have a great deal of confidence that my Mother would agree. But felt I had nothing to lose in suggesting it. But, once again, she surprised me.
“God, that’s a horny thought,” she agreed, almost immediately. “I’d love you to watch me. I think that’s a kinky, but very good, idea. As long as you are wanking yourself whilst you watch me.”
“Bloody hell, of course I’ll be wanking. I’ll not be able to stop myself from doing anything other than that,” I confirmed.
Pushing herself off my bed my Mother padded off into her room, with her wonderful tits bobbing in front of her. She returned, moments later, with her vibrator. In those days there wasn’t the variety of sex toys there are now. No rampant rabbits, small bullets or huge wands. Instead what she brandished was a flesh coloured, ribbed, phallus shaped dildo, probably around 5 or 6 inches in length
I knew women used them, but I wasn’t entirely sure how. So I was curious to find out.
“Maybe a daft question. But what do you do with it?” I inquired. “I presume you just thrust that inside and fuck yourself with it, in lieu of a real cock.”
“Well, to some extent that’s true.” my Mother confirmed. “But there’s a little more to it than that. Some of them are just a substitute dick. But this one vibrates too, so I can use it play against my pussy lips and my clit. Let me show you.”
She applied a little lube to it before laying back on the bed. Twisting the base slightly her toy started to hum quietly and I could see it gently vibrate (as of course, the name suggested). Illustrating her point about using it externally, not just internally, she began to rub it gently along her pussy lips.
As soon as it made it contact with her genitals her breathing quickened and she was panting slowly.
“Oh God,” she whimpered, “it’s not as good as the real thing, but it makes for a very pleasant substitute.”
As I’d expected, watching her use it was indeed a huge turn-on. Like my Mother it was clear I was visually stimulated. So seeing her body respond to the gentle pressure and vibration of her dildo was hugely arousing. But I also derived pleasure from seeing – or contributing to – her enjoyment.
As she used the toy to massage her pussy I lay by her side and suckled on her tits, whilst slowly wanking my rock hard cock.
Much as I enjoyed doing this, after a few minutes – and as my Mother’s breathing shortened – I wanted to concentrate fully on watching her bring herself to orgasm with the toy.
I had enough knowledge of my Mother’s arousal by now to know that this orgasm was fast approaching. Knowing also how much she appreciated some dirty talk I began a commentary of my own on her actions.
“Fucking hell Mum, that is so horny. Go on, fuck that pussy with your dildo, frig that clit. Let me see you come on it. Then I’ll shower you with my hot, sticky, spunk.”
As I was saying this I was by her side, sat back on my haunches, cock in hand as I wanked myself. But taking care not to be enthusiastic as I wanted to see my Mother orgasm before I did.
“Ooh baby, this is naughty. I love how this toy feels on and in my juicy cunt,” she grunted as she looked up at me, her eyes focused on my cock, well lubricated now with leaking pre-cum. “I wish it was a real cock. I wish I could allow your cock in me,” as she was now more forcefully fucking herself, taking the whole length inside her glistening pussy.
“Oh God………nearly there…………so close……….” she gasped as she twisted the base and increased the power further.
“Come on,” I urged, “fuck that cunt, fuck it hard. Come for me.”
This last exhortation appeared all she needed as she ground down on her vibrator, grasping it with both hands to give it maximum traction.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, yesssss……yessss…….here it comes…….ARGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” she cried out, thrashing around on the bed as a massive orgasm ripped through her.
Seeing her come like that was the trigger for my own release as I gave my aching cock a few final tugs.
“Nnnnnnngh, nnnnnnghhhh, I’m coming too, FUCKKKKKK!!!!!!” as I spewed my jizz up onto her tits, with the most powerful blast hitting her on the chin.
Squealing with excitement my Mother shocked me once more by dabbing it on to her finger and placing it on the top of her tongue to taste.
“Mmm, not to bad at all,” she pronounced with a grin, “the good diet I’m providing you with is paying off.”
As we lay there, basking once more in our post orgasmic glow, I’d convinced myself (I think with some justification) that this was going to be a precursor to a further escalation of our activities.
“That was wonderful,” I assured her. “I can’t believe you tasted my spunk. I’d love to experience a blow job from you. And it sounds like you want to feel my cock, not that rubber one.”
Sadly, my Mother not only denied that, but delivered some further bad news for me.
“No Jack, neither of those things is going to happen. I’ve already crossed way to many parental lines. But those are two I’m not going to cross. Despite what I many have just said in the heat of passion moments ago. In fact, the day after tomorrow, when your Dad comes home, we’re even going to have to pause what we’re already doing.”
“Oh Mum, I almost wailed, liked a spoilt child, so deflated was I. “That’s going to be impossible. I can’t last for 10 days without you getting me off.”
“Of course you can,” she assured me, “you’ll just have to go back to wanking on your own, as you were until we set out on this path to depravity. Once your Dad goes back to the rigs we can start up again. But, as much as I love sex, I can’t cope with the two of you. Plus I’d just feel even more guilty than I already do.”
To be fair, I could see exactly where she was coming from. And a break did seem like a sensible course of action. But I tried to use this situation to my advantage and use as leverage to guilt trip my Mother.
“OK,” I agreed reluctantly, “I get where you’re coming from. It would be tricky. But couldn’t you relent and agree to have sex with me before he comes back, as recompense for the enforced abstinence I’ll then have to endure?”
“Look,” she responded, with a firm tone, but a kindly glint in her eye. “I knew that you’d want to escalate things. And I can see that you’ve got your father’s libido, and mine too,” she smiled. “Clearly I got a little carried away a little earlier. And that hasn’t helped. But as appealing an idea as it might be, as I said before, there is no way we are going to do any more than we’ve already done. Plus, as I’ve just said, nothing at all whilst your Dad is around.”
“Oh Mum,” I almost whined, “I do understand. But I’m desperate. Where am I going to get some relief?”
“Oh, so that’s all you see me as?” she teased, “just some scrubber for you to empty your balls into?”
“Not at all,” I fed back, with a grin. “Not least because, as you’ve just confirmed, you won’t let me empty my balls into you, just with you.” I clarified.
“As I’ve said over and over, you are such a cheeky sod,” she chuckled. “You’re just confirming my decision to deny you access to my pussy is sound one,” she smiled. “But look, I still care about my poor, blue-balled, son. And I’ve got a suggestion.”
“I’m all ears,” I assured her, with mock seriousness. “No, actually, I’m all balls, as you just pointed out. But I’m willing to listen too. What’s your plan?”
“Well, it’s not really a plan, more the germ of an idea. But you must promise me to be discreet and sensible in processing the information I’m about to disclose,” she asserted.
“100% discretion is guaranteed,” I assured her. “And, in all seriousness, I hope you’ve appreciated how I’ve demonstrated that with you and our activities, limited as they are,” I concluded with a grin.
“That’s a fair point,” my Mother confessed, “I have been impressed with how there is has been no discernible difference in your behaviour towards me when others are around. Anyway, here’s a possible outlet for you. How attractive do you find Janet?”
“”What, Janet, our neighbour?” I asked incredulously. “Married to Peter and good friends with you and Dad? Surely you’re not suggesting her?”
“Yes, that is who I’m suggesting,” she confirmed. “Let me explain why. Provided, of course, she is someone you’d like to sleep with, if you can make it happen?”
“God yes,” I agreed immediately, “I’d love to shag her. She’s slim, really attractive and very stylish. A proper MILF in fact. Almost as good looking as you,” I added with a leery grin.
“I thought you might fancy her,” my Mother replied. “Don’t think I hadn’t noticed you casting surreptitious glances her way. And I suspects she’s noticed those too. We women are not daft. And you men are not very good at disguising your feelings.”
“Right, what I’m going disclose now is where I’ll need your discretion,” she continued. “Some of what I’m going to tell you I’m confident is factual, some is conjecture. But my intuition is usually pretty good in these regards.”
“Peter is clearly a very good provider. And I know Janet certainly appreciates that. But I’m afraid to say that, from what she’s told me, “he’s crap in bed.” It seems he’s neither an enthusiastic, nor skilled, lover,” my Mother related with a rueful frown. “So that’s why I have a strong feeling that Janet has needs that are unfulfilled.”
“Now this is where my conjecture and speculation comes in,” my Mother went on. “After a glass or two of wine on a few nights out she’s hinted that she’s open to – and indeed sometimes has been – having those needs fulfilled by someone else. In fact, I think she’s been a bit of naughty girl on weekends away with her sisters. I’ve also heard her express the view that she’s very keen on younger men. I know she’d want to avoid doing something that might jeopardize her marriage. But I’m wondering whether some “no strings attached” sex with a lusty young man like you – who is not looking for anything long term – may be just what she needs.”
“Crikey, that’s a lot to take in,” I reacted, “but I think your conjecture may be accurate. Not least as I know you do have good instincts. But it’s a big leap from her being open to younger men and her accepting me “balls deep” inside her.”
“Remind me again,” my Mother spluttered with laughter, “how much are we paying to support you through this Law degree? If that’s the best you can do to express yourself then it seems to be wasted money. But I understand your sentiment,” she conceded with a smile.
“Right, here’s some advice that should stand you in good stead with all women, not just Janet,” she retorted. “There’s two important things you should know. The first is that “a faint heart never won a fair maiden.” I guess you’ve heard that saying?”
“I have,” I agreed, “I imagine that what you’re suggesting is it pays to be bold?”
“That’s right,” she concurred, “you’d be surprised how many women – hopefully Janet included – might be receptive to an invitation to intimacy. But far too often men are too hesitant to make a move (this was several years ago, before the cultural shift that encouraged women – or at least some of them – to be more predatory in their approach to men). However, as is usually the case, there’s a fine line line to be drawn. So it’s OK to be suggestive and “test the waters”. And dependent on those responses you can judge whether to proceed further. But it’s generally not a good idea to randomly blurt out that you want to fuck them. How does that sound to you?”
“Well, I reflected, “that’s probably something of a surprise. But it certainly does sound like excellent advice. And clearly you’d know better than me how the female mind works.
“Some females, but not all,” my Mother insisted. “Because, of course, everyone is different. But I think the approach I’m suggesting would work in a pretty broad group.”
“The second thing you should be mindful of,” she went on, “is the power of flattery. Women like to be reminded of how good they look and how appealing they are. Though, once more, there is a delicate balance between being sincere and coming across as creepy. That depends, to some extent, on your underlying personality. But also, I believe, on how welcome the praise you are making is to the recipient.”
All of this, of course, was invaluable insight, that I would go on to rely and act upon over several years. And indeed with Janet. Though I’m afraid I conspired to ignore at least part of it a day or so later.
“Ok………..” I pondered, “so, all of this said, how do I go about engineering an opportunity to shower praise and try to be bold with Janet?”
“Crikey,” my Mother groaned, in mock frustration, “do I have to think of everything? But, luckily for you, I do have an idea. Or at least a good excuse for you to go and spend some time with Janet.”
“Here’s my plan,” she continued. “They’ve just got a computer, but neither Janet nor Peter really know how to use it (this was several years ago when they were very much in their infancy and were, to some extent, just glorified word processors). I know you’ve become familiar with them at University so I’m going to suggest you go round there after work tomorrow and give them some pointers. Peter almost invariably works late so you should get a good hour or more alone with Janet. How does that sound?” she queried.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I agreed. “Give her a call and set something up. But now, whilst Dad is still away, let’s carry on where we just left off……….”
to be continued