mother/son

Alright, once more into the breach dear friends… Insert Standard Blurb Here.



As always none of this is true, all characters are 18 years or older. This story contains explicit sex scenes between to consenting adults who happen to be related so if you find that objectionable don’t read further. The author in no way condones, accepts, argues for, endorses or encourages this type of activity in real life (It’s just fantasy, however sick and wrong). OH YEAH, because it’s fiction all the other potential consequences of real life don’t apply… so in the real world always practice safe sex!!



Feedback is sought after on anything I write, after all how else do you improve. Voting is good but if you’re just going to complain about morality I think you’re on the wrong website. Lastly; yes I know I should get an Editor and that Grammar is not my friend. In answer to that question I have tried and had three volunteers none of which worked out for various reasons. Sorry this Chapter took so long but I am not a prolific writer and writing isn’t all that I do.



Bottom line, please enjoy and Grammar Police… Have at it




Chapter 8



At Night Everything Changes



(4 a.m.)




The moon shone through the window illuminating the room in a soft but hauntingly incandescent light. Darkness muted the colours of everything in the room giving them an almost smoky black and white glow. Images not quite black or white appeared to be basked in a supple smooth grey. All sharp edges and contrasts blended together making everything in the room appear less distinct. The only thing that stood out in the room was in the centre of the bed, two coupled bodies locked in a grippingly passionate embrace, oblivious to the world and its contrivances. Gone was the intense energy of electrified lust, the urgency of conquest, the immediacy of release which at one time drove the two to meet and couple where others knew better. In its place was passion, desire and above all else love.



All around the room were traces of force and movement, nothing placed carefully anywhere, clothing strewn across the floor where it had been thrown, ripped, pulled and torn from bodies intent on one goal; copulation. At one time the need for sex had dominated the atmosphere of this room. Release and surrender had been the protocol, greed and need the only driving goals but now the feel of the room had changed. The two bodies entwined in the centre of the bed, tightly embraced in a sensual, luxurious, sexy knot of arms, legs and skin sought neither release nor separation. Thrusts and jabs were replaced with sliding circular motions as sensual as dance, soft jazz or slow dirty blues. Sex was no longer the order of the day; it had been replaced with passion, desire and love.



“What am I going to do with you?” Rachel spoke softly to her lover as she gently kissed his forehead, nose and then mouth. “You have spoiled me for all others.”



Her hair was matted to her forehead, her body glisten in sweat, and her skin tanned and supple glowed from the refreshing workout of sexual release. Her lover continued to slide his body along hers. His hard throbbing sex moving in and out of hers, causing sensual pleasures to course through both their bodies. The hard piercing sabre sliced slickly into her centre delving deeper than she had ever experienced before pushing its thankfully blunt end firmly against her cervix as he bottomed out inside her. She was gloriously filled and stretched to capacity, comfortably full and complete. The sights, sounds and smells of sex filled the room.



“There are others?” her lover replied softly as he gazed deeply into her eyes. They kissed again as his hips continued their in and out motion. Her legs spread opened wide to receive him allowing the flare of her hips to accept him further. Her legs wrapped around him holding him inside her body refusing to let him go. Each penetration bringing with it the glorious sensations of sexual pleasure and the anticipation of release.



“There are no others,” she assured him quietly as she held him tighter to her pressing her body as close to his as she could get. It was a lie and they both knew it but neither wished to discuss it now, there would be time enough for that later. “There are no others.”



Again the two lovers continued their sensual dance. Rachel spread herself wide to accommodate her lover, she was his now and she needed him to know it, if not by words than by actions. Her body opened and gave way to his, allowing him to take her again and again with every recurring plunge. Her mouth sought out his and their kiss ignited a passion that neither had known existed between the two. Deep in her heart Rachel was scared of the emotions she was feeling, the desire she was having towards her young lover. Her heart was his and she knew it but he was young and prone to foolishness as all young people are, he would not know what he held, what sacred trust had been passed on to him. Lovers of his age were inexperienced and self-centred. Sure in all likelihood he loved her, he even adored her but he would not be as deeply and passionately bonded to her as she was becoming to him. Her love in this short time was becoming obsessive and she knew it, which meant nothing but disaster for both of them. If she was not careful she would throw caution to the wind and risk everything for their passion. At this very moment he was buried deep inside her without benefit of protection. This would be the fifth, no sixth time she took him inside her within a twenty-four hour period without protection. Each time they had made love, fucked, rutted or tore into each other with abandon he had spent himself completely inside her. His ejaculate was always large and deep, leaving copious amounts of his seed deeply planted inside her unprotected womb. In every instance she had had an orgasm either before, during or after his release, causing her cervix to spasm and press down against her uterine wall in an attempt to capture and hold onto the valuable fluid deposited deep inside her body. Her body was becoming alive with the lust of wanting to be impregnated. The need for pregnancy had become a driving biological force pushing aside all reason. A baby lust was upon her if it could be called that and she would see it through if she was not careful. Her rational mind had nothing to say on the matter it was strictly biologic and her body craved the outcome of this copulation. Her womb wished to mate, to take her lover’s seed deep inside her and create life. It did not care about age or other outside influences, all it wished for was that her hips spread wide and open, that the mouth of her sex stay wet and lubricated in order to receive the phallus it craved and that the seed that would impregnate her body regardless be planted deeply at the mouth of her cervix.



Their foreheads were pressed firmly against each other as they continued to fuck. Each breath coming from her was deep and steady, the intake of oxygen mixed with simultaneous gasp of pleasure as the thick truncheon he possessed moved in and out of her body. Their eyes were locked on each other, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, causing her breasts to look more pronounced as they sat high on her chest, nipples rock hard pointing straight out indicating her arousal.



“That’s it baby fuck me,” she moaned as he drove into her steadily. “Don’t stop, just fuck me.”



His body responded to her voice, the pace of his hips quickening as he bottomed out inside her with each beautifully aching thrust. He could feel her cunt continually grasping his cock. Her vaginal walls felt like velvet along the length of his shaft as he moved fluidly in and out of her. The bulbous head of his rigid cock repeatedly buffeted against her cervix, as he continue his delicious onslaught. In and out of her he slid, causing her womb to ache for his release.



“Oh god you drive me crazy I could fuck you all night,” he stared directly at her, his eyes locked on hers as he spoke.



“You have,” she replied kissing him passionately, her tongue invading his mouth, fervently duelling with his. This served to elicited greater zeal from her young lover as she encircled his neck with her arms drawing him closer. God she was beautiful, her sharp jaw and nose highlighted her beauty. Her eyes, half lidded, sexily peering into his, her mouth soft and sensual everything about her aroused him.



“Oh god, oh god I don’t want to cum. I just want to keep fucking you.” His body had found the perfect rhythm which she matched stroke for stroke. Together they moved on the bed as one singular organic being, shifting positions like practiced dancers. Missionary, scissor, doggy, cowgirl, butterfly, each position moving and sliding into the next, each penetration deeper and more excruciatingly delicious than the last he had no idea how long they had been making love but if the sun had come up at that moment he would not have been surprised.



“You’re making me cum baby, you’re making me cum,” her body convulsed as she spoke.



He could feel every detail of her sex pressing against him as she rode him through her orgasm. Her clit pressed hard into his pubic bone. His cock continued to slice in and out of her as she shuddered beneath him. Suddenly her body convulsed her back arched up; both her hands took hold of his tight round buttocks and held him deep as she came. The continual spasm of her hips increased their mutual pleasure locking them deeply in this moment of rapture.



“Fuuucckkk!” was all she could say, the word got stuck in her throat. She spread herself wide to receive him, his cock buried deep inside her began to flex, and she knew he would cum and release his seed even though he fought it.



“Cum. Cum in me baby,” it was a cross between a request and a demand. “Honey cum in me its ok, I want this more than anything, as much as I want you.”



In and back, in and back, in and back, three half thrust were all he could manage as she held him so tight. The slurping wet sound of her sex was like nothing he had ever heard before, it was carnal. The suck and pulling sensation went right to his balls as though she were attempting to draw out his seed. He reached down with both hands and firmly grabbed each breast and squeezed. Bringing his thumb and forefinger together he pinched both nipples hard and twisted cause her to groan deeply and release her hold of him. In that moment he reasserted himself as the dominant and she accepted the fucking she was going to get now. She wanted his seed; she was going to get it.



Chapter 9



A Morning Full of Surprises



(24 hours later…)



“That’s it suck my cock.”



Michael could feel the head of his cock push into her throat. He knew she could supress her gag reflex and take him to the root; every time she did he became more and more impressed. Although his experience was somewhat limited he knew it would never get any better than this.



“Oh god that’s it, all the way baby, all the way.”



With each plunge her mouth made down his shaft he fought the urge to cum, knowing that the longer he delayed the greater the end benefit would be, still it was a difficult challenge.



“Fuck that’s good.”



Each rise and fall, each slow descent; each soft caress was punctuated with inaudible sounds and he more felt then heard. Soon this began to change as she sensed his arousal peeking. Her pace quickened, and the soft slow descents became more deliberate, more urgent, punctuated now with loud slurping sounds the result of the copious amounts saliva mixed with precum that now covered his shaft and balls.



“You have got to be the greatest cocksucker going. Fuck your good.”



The dirty talk and praised seemed to excite her more and she noticeably doubled her efforts after each point of praise. Like Pavlov’s dog salivating at the ringing of a bell, she salivated and gorged herself on his magnificent cock after each word. Now he had his hand on her head, fingers entwined in her hair, tentatively tightening his grasp and taking a more commanding role in this sexual encounter.



“Fuck you bitch; you’re going to make me cum.”



Again her head bobbed up and down his shaft, her pace frenzied and wild. Her actions seemed to suggest that she couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Up and down her mouth travelled as she took him deep into her throat, pass her gag reflex, pressing her lips and nose tightly against his pubic bone.



“What has gotten into you, wholly fuck!”



No sooner did he ask then she pulled her mouth of his raging hard on and spoke. A loud gasp of air accented just how forceful she had been at sucking his cock. Her face wet and covered with the slim of their engagement, she licked her lips and spoke, eyes glazed and staring at him. “I can taste her on your cock!”



It had done something to her, made her insatiable and wanton. She felt slutty and dirty and nasty all at the same time. She knew she should be repulsed by it but instead she was aroused, thrilled, her mind running wild with the images of Michael having sex with the young blonde bimbo that had come to her door earlier that morning, looking for her son, her lover, her man.



(18 hours before…)



When the doorbell rang Rachel was in her housecoat. She wasn’t expecting anyone at eleven a.m. on a Saturday morning. She had just gotten out of the shower and was heading into the kitchen to prepare some sort of brunch for herself and her son Michael.



“I’ll get it,” she shouted out to Michael who was just finishing up in the shower himself.



“Ok thanks mom,” was his cursory reply. This morning was bringing with it many surprises not the least of which would be who was at the front door. Things were changing in the Anderson household, some would be good and some would be different. At this moment for Rachel they seemed ‘all good’ as her son and his friends would say, she was pleased with the turn-of-events and the surprise she received this morning at quarter past ten was a perfect example of all good.



Michael woke up at ten and looked at the clock as the first step in getting his bearings. Four hours sleep he thought to himself, four hours sleep and I’m still running on a high. His immediate surroundings threw him as he hadn’t woken up in his own bed. He could hear the shower running and his eyes focused on the bathroom door in his parent’s room. It was slightly ajar and he could see steam coming from around the door. The bed he was sleeping in was a mess, the sheets were no longer tucked in and the comforter was partially on the floor. The fitted sheet had been pulled away from the bottom of the bed and there was only one pillow to be found which was currently cradling his head quite comfortably. Blinking his eyes several times he breathed in deep and stretched, the room smelled of sex.



He rose from the bed and walked naked towards the bathroom. As he peered around the door he could see the figure of a person inside the shower busily going through some sort of self grooming routine. He quietly pulled the curtain back and stepped in the shower.



“Jesus!” his mother jumped as she shouted the profanity. After last night he had grown accustom to hearing her say much more colourful words of expression. “Michael I damn near cut myself.”



“What are you doing?” he asked with a sly smile.



“I’m shaving. What do you think I’m doing?” She continued to move through her routine as though he wasn’t there. Her back was to him as she allowed the water to rinse the remnants of the foam away from her now smooth skin.



“Well since you’re in here you can hand me the shampoo,” she told him, her voice full of playful tones as she chastised her son in mock admonishment. “And you can wash my hair while you’re at it.”



Michael handed her the shampoo and she quickly flipped the lid. She took his hand and poured what she felt was an appropriate amount of the shampoo in his palm. “Ok, now get to work my pretty.” She was mocking the witch from the Wizard of Oz; she hadn’t done that since he was little.



“I thought the witch wasn’t supposed to get wet or she’d melt away,” Michael said as he began to gently rub the liquid into her hair at the scalp. He allowed the foam and suds to form and spread the lather down her head and into her hair, massaging her head and neck as he went.



“The only things being washed away right now are my inhibitions,” his mother informed him.



Rachel for her part was feeling more and more aroused as Michael massaged the shampoo into her hair. She had gotten up earlier than Michael as she was a little more use to late nights and early mornings. She decided that while he was sleeping she would take a shower and freshen up. Her underlying hope was the previous day’s activities would continue, in which case she’d like to feel nice and fresh. As always she started by shaving her legs and arm pits and then became a little more brazen and shaved her entire pubic region bald. A few wild and kinky ideas raced through her head as she removed all the hair making her sex completely bald and smooth from front to back. It was as she was touching up her vaginal area that Michael came into the shower frightening her half out of her wits. Now that he was washing her hair from behind, she decided to use this opportunity to play. She began to seductively rub herself against him, grinding her buttock into his sex. The effect was almost instantaneous, his erection became quite pronounce as it was pressed between the two glorious half moons of her perfect ass.



“Mom, I don’t think I can concentrate on the task at hand if you keep this up.”



Rachel placed both her palms against the shower wall and used the leverage it gave her to grind her ass harder into Michael. Her hips moved back and forth and up and down his length in a sensual seductive figure eight that brought the tip of his penis from the mouth of her sex up and over her sexy little rosebud and through her firm round ass cheeks. Back and forth she continued this dance using the water from the shower and the suds from the shampoo as a sexually enticing as the opening salvo in her conquest of his raging hard on.



“Do you like the feel of my ass sliding along your cock baby?” her voice was a soft squeaky tease and it drove him crazy. His shaft continued to slide between the two halves of her perfect round ass. The bulbous head of his cock grazing over the dark rose bud of her anus caused electric shocks of pleasure to course through both their bodies.



“God mom you’re driving me crazy. I can’t be responsible for my actions if you keep this up.”



“Why baby, whatever do you mean?” Her tone was playful and mischievous. She pushed hard into him trapping his now fully erect cock between her beautifully round buttocks.



“Oh fuck mom.”



“You like that baby?” He pushed back harder into sliding his shaft back and forth through the crack of her ass. She knew she was pushing things too far and he wouldn’t be able to control himself.



“I told you I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep this up.”



“What baby? Is mommy doing something nasty?” Her dirty talk always aroused him and drove him crazy. In a few moments she would have him exploding all over her round glistening ass.



“I’m going to do something nasty in a moment.” His tone was deliberate and almost menacing if not foreboding.



“What would that be baby? What nasty thing would you do?” Her tone on the other hand sounded innocent and naïve, something she was far from being. She loved playing with him teasing him, it was something she enjoyed and missed dearly in her life, her other life before Michael.



“This!” and with that he thrust forward mercilessly hard, driving his cock deep into her ass a little more than half its terrible length.



“Oh fuck! You bastard!” The shock and pain she felt did two things to her almost simultaneously. First her body’s protective reaction was to move forward and away from the painful onslaught. Second and this was the somewhat disturbing part, a rush of adrenaline surged through her giving her a heighten sense of arousal, causing her nipples to instantly harden, her sex to flood and her arms to fly forward placing her palms against the shower wall bracing herself so that she could push back.

Charlene’s back collided with the wall in her foyer with a forceful impact that beat the breath from her lungs as she tried desperately to keep her lips against her son’s. His hands had taken hold of her wrists, pinning them against the wall beside her shoulders as his mouth devoured hers. The stinging cold of his jacket bit at her nipples, coaxing them to the blissful hardness that wrought sensitivity through her flushed moist breasts like a current. Finally her son’s lips separated from hers as he rocked his head to the side of her neck. Charlene gasped as she felt his teeth clench into her skin as a starving animal might having taken her for its kill. Wresting one wrist free, she raked her fingers through his hair pulling his head in tighter and inviting him to take of her body what his glorious mouth could.



“David!” Charlene groaned as her son kissed and bit her neck. No longer giving any consideration to the unfriendly cold on her nude damp flesh, she raised her leg, hooking it around his freezing hip as she began to grind her core against his body involuntarily. The lump in his pants was so apparent Charlene wondered how the seemingly thin material was able to contain his blessed cock from tearing free and impaling her as though it had its own will. His other hand released her remaining wrist at last, allowing both of his hands to streak down the sides of her body and cup her ass firmly. The leg she was trying to support herself upon was thankful for the levity of his assistance. His mouth parted from her tingling neck. David’s eyes were alight with some desperate and carnal flame as he stared at her. The look was enough to melt Charlene into complete depravity. Her hands sank between their bodies to manipulate the clasp of his belt with all the remaining ability her trembling hands could muster. David inched back enough to allow it as he brought one of his hands around from her tightly gripped rear and plunged between her quivering legs. The touch against her naked flowing sex brought Charlene so close to climax that she had to fight to focus on the task of tugging her son’s pants down from his toned hips. As the elastic of his underwear sank past his manhood his beautiful cock sprang upward, swollen and red and demanding her appreciation. As David’s flat fingers rocked back and forth across her aching labia, Charlene clasped her hand around his cock and began to tug furiously.



“Bed!” Charlene gasped, barely able to get the word out as her senses relished the feel of David’s pulsing cock wrapped so tightly in her slender fingers. The slippery lubrication of his manhood was leaking from him copiously and had begun to glisten along the marvelous length of his cock as his mother pulled and twisted her hand up and down along it. “God, David! Take me to bed right now!” She pleaded, tugging her son’s manhood faster and faster until his eyes began to flutter in their sockets as he ripped his jacket off his shoulders and discarded it with a flick of his arm.



“That’s too fucking far!” He groaned in pleasure as he kicked his boots and his pants the rest of the way off and began to peel his sweater up over his muscled chest until finally he was as properly exposed as she was. His skin, unlike the chilled garments that had clothed it was radiant of warmth as though it was conveying of its own accord its desire for her. Charlene released his shaft, feeling as she did the sticky string of his pre-cum that came with her hand like a delicious tether to his cock head. Leaping at once up in the air, David caught her as she wrapped her legs tightly around him and dug her fingernails into the tight muscles of his back.



“Take me anywhere then!” Charlene cried out as she settled down against the length of his throbbing cock between her legs against that narrow tender spot between her burning holes. “Take me anywhere!” She repeated as suckled his earlobe into her wanton mouth. “Just take me!”



David began to walk down the hallway past the foyer. Charlene’s eyes clenched shut as she kissed and suckled any inch of her son’s skin her lips could taste. She didn’t know where he was going; she didn’t care. She ground her saturated sex down against the length of his cock, gyrating against it as she felt him walk a few more steps and then turn from the hallway. Her lips captured his earlobe again.



“I need you…” She whispered through the lewd sucking against his ear. “God David I need you…” Her words sounded painfully and childishly desperate even in her own ears. She prayed that it didn’t sound that way to her son who now as she allowed the tightly closed lids of her eyes to open some had walked them into the kitchen and was approaching the large center island in the middle. Charlene reluctantly admitted to herself that the location wouldn’t have been her first choice but now as she turned her head around to see where her son was going, the cool stone covered cooking station was as welcome as any other location she could think of so long as the outcome was the same. As David came to a halt before it, his grip slackened and Charlene slid down his body until her toes met the cool hardwood floor, feeling the shaft of his ridged cock slip the full length between her legs and jerk upward as their bodies separated, whipping along her clit as it rose back to its natural proud upward posture. The sensation was almost enough to deny her legs the ability to support her. Before she could guess as to David’s intentions his hands clasped her waist tightly and whirled her around until she was facing the island away from him.



“Oh God I’m so ready for you, David!” Charlene gasped as her son’s strong hands pressed her upper body harshly over the edge of the cold edge of her marble kitchen counter, leaving her bottom angled back towards him longingly and knowing that the heavy saturation between her legs would help her body accommodate his ample size without effort. His fingertips dug into her bottom, parting her cheeks until she was open to his needs. Simply feeling the desperation in David’s hands to expose her made Charlene consciously aware of the moisture accumulating between her labia, which flooded over the surface as her son held her apart. Charlene shut her eyes as she raised one of her toned shapely legs up and brought it alongside her upper body against the counter, preparing herself to feel the delicious impalement of her own son’s magnificence. The sudden and unexpected heavy wash of her son’s tongue against her vagina however forced her eyes open in blissful surprise as she realized that David had sunk down behind her and was in fact now burying his face in her sex from behind.



“David! Oh my God” She cried out as his mouth danced against her dripping opening. “Baby what are you doing? I need you inside me now!” She begged, delighted in the sensation but still almost disappointed that she wasn’t already feeling the head of his cock battering against her cervix.



“I’ve wanted this for days.” David grumbled behind her, barely abandoning his efforts to press his tongue inside her as he spoke. “You taste so good Mom.” He mumbled again. “… So good” He repeated as he lapped at her channels trembling opening the way he had once devoured a treat when he was young. “I haven’t been able to forget how amazing you taste since the last time! Oh God, Mom…” He added between passes in and out of her with his tongue. Charlene’s body trembled in reaction to the words. Aside from the obvious arousal to his generous compliment, she couldn’t help but still become horribly hot at being identified as his mother when David pleasured her. Charlene’s eyes clenched shut as she felt her swollen labia collected together in her son’s sucking lips as David suckled her juices from them before popping her love petals free of his mouth. Charlene began to lose control of herself, writhing against the cool countertop as her son suckled her clitoris into his firmly holding lips and released it with a similarly lewd wet pop of his mouth.



“Oh fuck! Baby, that feels so good.” Charlene panted, growing increasingly desperate for more. David’s hands gripped her bottom tightly, holding her cheeks apart to grant him better depth to plunge his tongue inside her sex, fucking it in and out of her like a small wet cock in his mouth. Her knuckles went white, gripping the edge of the counter as she wiggled her bottom up and down in time with the heavy passed of his tongue.



“How the hell does he know how to do this so well?” She wondered, as it began to occur to her that her son’s sexual prowess possessed a lack of limitation that she never would have associated with a man his age.



“Oh fuck!” In earnest provocation, Charlene cried out sharply as she felt the tight clench of David’s teeth searing into her clit. The burning sting was as unexpected to her as how amazing it felt. Her most delicate place was at the mercy of his grinding teeth, stinging her to the core. As soon as it became too painful however, she felt him set her love button lose and the playful wash of his tongue soothed the bite way. “Oh god baby…” Charlene gasped. “Bite it again.” She begged. At once the sting returned this time accompanied by a tug as her son pulled her clit out with his teeth. The pain came more quickly and with greater intensity. Charlene felt almost certain that her countertop would soon have finger marks in its edges from the iron clench she was imposing upon it. With a sigh of relief, she felt her clit released and again the heavy lather of his wet mouth soothed the pain away.



“Are you ok?” David whispered from behind her with concern, but his tone seemed more to convey a question as to whether she wanted him to do it again.



“I loved it.” Charlene replied in a labored whisper, continuing to rock her bottom up and down to lather her wetness against David’s face. With eagerness he pressed his mouth back in, suckling her still stinging clit into his mouth till it met his flickering tongue. His hands tightened against her bottom, keeping her open to him as the pressure he exerted against her delicate flesh intensified and sped up dramatically. “Oh David don’t stop!” Charlene screamed as she felt the tidal wave inside her loins building towards its crest. “Lick my pussy David! Lick your mother’s pussy! It’s so fucking good!” Charlene babbled as the slew of obscenities flowed from her mouth like an actress in one of her son’s porno’s and empowered her to let herself go. Never before had she felt so confident as to speak so freely of what she wanted with a lover; what she craved. Her usual reserved vocabulary gave way as the beast in her womb spoke with her voice. She was becoming the animal inside her and the animal had no time for proper words befitting a mother’s speech. Throwing her head back, she stared up at the ceiling that spun in circles before her dazed eyes as the mouth of her flesh and blood nibbled and sucked and washed her sinful wetness clean. Her hands ached to maintain their hold on the islands edges as the one leg she kept draped up alongside her body thrashed spastically with each jerking pulse of pleasure that David delivered into her body.



“I’m going to cum!” She cried out as she felt the hot flood inside her crest to the magical point of climax. “God, David make me cum!” She pleaded. His groans of approval down behind her sounded vicious and something other than simply human. Perhaps, she thought, there was an animal inside him as well. “Oh God!” Charlene screamed as she felt her vagina’s walls reverberate, delivering her orgasm across her son’s face in a flood of appreciation. His face still buried tightly between her toned buttocks, David sucked and licked frantically as though she had saved him from some cruel death from dehydration until at last he came up for air.



“Mom…” He panted catching his breath. “Incredible…” Was all he could add as Charlene looked back over her shoulder at the incredible sight of her son’s face bathed in her love oils. He sat on the floor panting, his body supported against his arms behind him and his cock extended between his legs, calling to her perversely. Charlene grinned at the lovely sight and lowered herself off the edge of the kitchen counter, slumping to floor in front of him. She leaned back against the islands base and stared helplessly at her son’s erection. With every heavy breath he took his manhood jerked with his heartbeat. Charlene grinned again and extended her finger, curling it to beckon him to come to her.



“I want that.” She whispered, licking her lips.



“God woman you are indeed lost.” She thought to herself as she watched intently as David clamored to his feet and walked towards her. He stepped delicately around her legs until finally his cock was twitching inches from her mouth. Charlene moaned softly at the amazing sight of the pre-cum soaked head glistening before her and opened her mouth slowly. David inched in until the salty taste of his juice hit the tip of his mother’s tongue. Placing his hands on the edge of the counter to support himself, he pressed in farther. Charlene’s eyes widened as she parted her jaw wider, allowing the monstrous phallus to invade her mouth. She stared up at him; his face was pure awe.



“That looks amazing.” He whispered as he rocked his hips slowly back and forth, delivering unto his mother his length inch by unbelievable inch. Charlene finally reached up, taking his shaft in her hands as she slipped it from her lips with a wet kiss around the crest of the head. Gingerly, she rocked his length back and forth in her grasp.



“I love you David.” Charlene whispered. He smiled down at her. His face was warm and expressive. Leaning in, she took him back into her mouth, owning the action more than before as she let him be still as she took control. Flattening her tongue in her mouth she bobbed back and forth, letting his skin tantalize her taste buds as it had the first time she had tasted it. Her hands jerked him, coaxing his sticky fluid to spill into her mouth. She reached out, cradling the incredible set of testicles her son owned in her fingernails. His cock jumped in her mouth. Charlene groaned as she felt him swell her lips apart. She leaned in deeper, until at last the thick mushroom of his cock head eased into her throat where she knew he needed it. Her eyes watered. It was difficult to maintain but in that moment she cared nothing but for her son’s aching desperate pleasure.



“Mom that feels so good!” David gasped. Charlene stared up at his face, watching his eyes clench shut. His mouth gaped with his labored breaths. Finally she pulled back, couching slightly as her throat returned to its normal shape. David pulled back, allowing her to recuperate. As his cock pulled from her lips, a heavy wet string of her saliva pulled with it, dripping down her chin and across her breasts. A few deep breaths was all she needed before she leaned in again, taking him back in and sucking tightly as she grazed her fingernails along the length that she couldn’t consume. Again the magnificent twitch of his cock’s approval jerked inside her mouth. Charlene moaned passionately, rocking her head back and forth, allowing her lips to become her vagina; tight and fleshy and perfectly soft.



“Oh my God! Oh my… God!” David gasped under the influence of his mother’s expert fellatio. Charlene sucked harder as she wrapped her hand tightly around the base of his cock, jerking it forcefully as she devoured him. Her eyes never left his face, watching every clue to his pleasure now matter how subtle. “I’m going to cum! I’ll cum if you want me to!” He pleaded. Charlene tilted her head up and down desperately with him still locked in her mouth, moaning furiously to reply. “Oh God just… just don’t stop!” David cried out as she sucked him with all the lust her body and mind possessed.



“Never baby… I’ll never stop… God, cum for me!” Charlene thought as she jerked him harder. He swelled suddenly. Charlene withdrew, pumping him in her hands as she opened her mouth as wide as possible in time for the first incredibly delicious white rope of his semen to hit her full in the face.



“Oh Mom!” David shouted as Charlene struggled to aim his climax for her outstretched tongue. She moaned thankfully as it filled her mouth with several harsh streams of released pressure. She gulped and swallowed, trying to waste as little as possible despite the amount that spilled past her lips and dripped down between her heaving breasts.



“That’s it lover!” Charlene cried. “Oh David give it all to me!” She begged, still jacking him off furiously. “My beautiful boy.” She marveled as the last dripped from his purple head and splashed down along her toned abs, dribbling across her skin between her open legs. Letting him go at last, Charlene collected his semen from her body with her fingertips and sank them into her mouth. She looked up at him. His face was flush as though he had run miles to be with her, but the fire in his eyes was no less alight than before. Deep inside her loins, Charlene’s beast growled with renewed need.



“Take me to bed.” She gasped through the rampant pulsing of her heart beat. “Please David, I can’t wait any longer to feel you inside me!” She added as she struggled to her feet and took hold of her son’s hand, dragging him along behind her. David trotted along behind her as she led him down into the living room and around the corner to the stairwell. The narrow ascending corridor was blurry as her beating heart pumped adrenaline into her eyes. Half way up she felt her son halt behind her, his hand ripping free of her grip.



“Come here.” David commanded, grabbing her hips and pulling her down to her hands and knees on the steps. Charlene’s eyes bulged wide she felt her depths invaded by her son’s massive cock. Without the slightest of effort, it seemed to push into her until she felt his hips collide with her ass and the tip of his cock ground into her as deeply as her body would allow. No sooner than she could relish in being so completely full, she felt David rear back and slam in again.



“Oh God, David yes!” Charlene shouted, using the step her hands were against to push back against his hard thrusts. “Take me! Fuck me!” She wailed. David’s fingers clenched into her waist as he tugged her body back into each stab that his beautiful cock could offered her. Her heavy breasts rocked back and forth, smacking against the step below her hands as he took her harshly. His hips spanked her with each fierce penetration sinking deeper into her womb than the last.



“Mom! Oh God, Mom!” David panted as he strained his burning young muscles to drive his body onward.



“Tell me you love this! Tell me you won’t stop!” Charlene pleaded, knowing how awful her plea sounded and sinking deeper into the joy such depravity brought with it. With each hammering sensation into her vagina, she strained as her body jolted forward; her knees grinding against carpet, lodged in the crease between steps until they stung with rug burn. “Harder!” Charlene screamed, desperate to be violated. “Take me! Fuck me and never stop!” She continued to wail. David released her hip and Charlene felt his hand travel up her arched back until it sank into her tangled hair. With a swift tug her head was wrenched back as her son rode her from behind using her hair as his reigns.



“You feel so fucking good!” David panted. “Mom…”



“That’s it lover!” Charlene panted in pleasure as ceiling she was forced to look at above her warped in her dazed vision. “Take me!” Her rear ached with the slapping of her son’s toned skin as he pounded into her for all he was worth. Each time David lunged forward into her aching sex, the steps beneath them creaked the sounds of aged wood muffled under carpet, buckling under the pressure exerted upon them. Charlene reached out, taking hold of the rails to either side of her. Locking her arms she relied on her fit core muscles to propel her body back, matching her son’s stabs with the force of her own body in reverse. Each time the head of his unbelievably hard cock impacted inside her, her eyes seemed to swell with adrenalin.

“I can’t take much more!” David whimpered breathlessly. Charlene looked back over her shoulder. Her son’s lovely face was bathed in perspiration and his eyes were a squinted match for his gaping mouth. Inside her she could feel his thickness widening.



“Oh god I feel that!” Charlene screamed out as she tried desperately to propel herself harder back into David’s cock. “Fill me David!” She pleaded as her heart beat inside her chest so hard she could not but help let go of one railing to place her hand on her heaving chest between her breasts. David tugged at her hips and drove her forward with impossible speed. Amidst the intensity of her pleasure, Charlene could feel the tormented skin of her knees grinding painfully against the rug. “Please baby cum inside me now!” She cried out, unsure of how much more her body could endure before it gave out. Answering her prayer for his release, David’s hands tightened along her body as his penis jerked inside her. She knew she could hear him cry out; grateful words of pleasure escaping his lips, but all she could focus on was the feel of warmth spitting into her as her lover ejaculated and coated the inside of her womb with his seed.



Charlene let the railing go and slumped against the stairs. David at last released his tight grip upon her allowing her to relax her wobbly legs. As she did, the seal of her blissfully fucked vagina gave, allowing his gift to seep past his cock and dribble out along the length of her thighs.



“God can anything feel more perfect?” She wondered. She crawled forward up a step, groaning heavily as the length of his manhood evacuated her body until at last the head slipped past her swollen battered lips. More of his semen bubbled from her gaping core, some running down her legs, the rest dripping onto the step between her chaffed and raw knees. She lay there awkwardly on the incline, panting wordlessly until she felt her son’s hands upon her skin again. His fingertips traced up and down the muscles of her back which under his touch she realized were slick with sweat. His body slumped gently down upon hers and soon she felt the hot breath of his mouth along her neck.



“Please tell me we’re not finished yet…” He whispered into her ear as he kissed the salt from her flesh.



“How do you still have energy?” Charlene laughed, admitting to herself that with anyone else she probably would have been long since spent. However there, with the knowledge that her son’s naked body was against hers, she could not help but realize that she too was far from satiated. She rolled over under him, draping her legs aside his body. His cock was twitching with his pulse and dangerously close to her vagina once again. He leaned in, not to take her but to consume her lips with his. His kiss tasted sweet and Charlene whimpered as she opened her mouth so that her tongue could dance slowly against his. He leaned in closer until Charlene jumped involuntarily at the feel of his cock touching her vagina once again.



“No.” She gasped breathlessly. “Bed.” She added, sitting up and backing her body up the steps and out from under him. David smiled and stood up as she turned onto her hands and knees and raised herself up with use of the railing to her own feet and began to wobble towards her original destination. As she crossed the last step and into the hallway upstairs, Charlene looked down at her knees. One was pink and chaffed. The other had in fact broken skin against the rub burn and was threatening to bleed should anything touch it. She smiled in satisfaction as though they were some perverse war wounds as she teetered towards her bedroom.



Within the room at last, her bed welcomed her eyes like a queenly throne for their lovemaking. It looked inviting and soft; something her aching body more than needed. More than that however, it was not longer her bed; it was theirs as though it always had been, their bed; their throne. Charlene turned around feasting her eyes upon her son’s outstanding naked form. His hair was a tangled mess, sparkling with sweat. The cut lines of his chest and abs flexed with his still heavy breaths. Her eyes lowered taking him all in. Between the rippled tone of his hips and thighs, his cock stood erect, wet and glistening with both of their orgasms. He was without a doubt the most incredible looking lover that she had ever had. Charlene bit her lip as she looked back up until her wanton eyes met his lustful stare. He too seemed to be appraising her body as she had his and too her delight, his look was one of equal appreciation and longing.



“What do you see when you look at me now, David?” She asked.



“Someone I’m amazed I couldn’t see before.” He replied after a moment’s consideration. “I see my mother; the most beautiful…” He began but stopped short as though his words had failed him. “I don’t think I can describe who I see when I look at you anymore mom.” He resigned. Charlene wondered a moment if that was good or bad. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted.” He offered as he stepped closer. “I want to make you feel like you’ve never felt.” He added, continuing to advance upon her. He was now looming over her as though he was ready to pounce. Charlene swallowed harder, once again under the spell of her son’s and her own lust. She loved feeling helpless against his need. She felt certain all he now had to do was look upon her in a certain way and she would instantly succumb to him no matter the time or place.



She reached out and took David’s hand, pulling him forcefully around her toward their bed. He allowed it, going with her modest strength as compared to his and flopped down on his back. Charlene crawled up over him, draping her legs over his hips and settling into a straddle until she felt the length of her son’s cock between her parted swollen labia. Placing her hands on his chest she began to rock her body back and forth, sliding his shaft across her clit. Her vagina screamed at her with a burning pulse to be entered again; to be filled. Never the less, Charlene playfully savored the anticipation, working her aching sex along David’s thick phallus like she was painting its length with her juices. Only until she felt certain she would explode, did she reach between their bodies and guide him up into her vagina and settle her weight completely down.



“Oh fuck!” David groaned in pleasure.



“You just lay there.” Charlene instructed, taking her hands from his chest and raising her torso upright. Slowly, she began to rock back and forth, keeping him completely inside her; grinding the head of his cock into her womb as deeply as it would penetrate. “Oh David…” She moaned heavily. “That’s so deep! My God baby, you’re so fucking big!” She babbled torridly. It felt easy to be vocal; to express every nuance of her pleasure to her young lover. Charlene let her words drip from her tongue like honey, hoping that her vulgar speech would only serve her son’s pleasure as much as her own. She stared down at him with glazed bedroom eyes, biting her pouty lower lip. She held her rhythm fluid and slow, grunting as she felt the head of his cock shift around against her cervix.



David sat up abruptly, relaxing his weight on his hands behind him. His head tilted down, closing towards his mothers swaying chest. Charlene slid her hands slowly up her stomach, cupping her breasts in her hands and offering them forward towards her son’s opening mouth. His lips locked against the sensitive firm flesh of her nipple, causing her to gyrate against him harder.



“Oh my baby boy.” She groaned. David’s hands gripped tightly against his mother’s, kneading her ample flesh together as his mouth dragged hot and slowly from breast to breast. He suckled her as wantonly as he had as a baby, desperate and starving for her nourishment. Now however his lips and teeth teased her for her pleasure and his own satiation to devour her milky soft skin. Charlene clenched her muscles down against David’s cock, rocking against him harder. Her loins began to reverberate as the flush of impending orgasm began to pulse though her body.



“You’re close again; I can feel it. I love it when you squeeze like that.” David panted. Charlene widened her straddle, feeling him press up inside her only that much more.



“It happens so easily with you.” She whispered, rocking her head back as she rode him. She pressed her left breast back into his mouth, kneading the other in her hand. “That one’s more sensitive.” She groaned as she felt his teeth sink into her hand nipple. “Oh David, that’s it!” She cried out sharply as the sting drove her hips to rock harder against her son. “… So sensitive.” She groaned as she released her breasts and wove her fingers into the hair behind his head, keeping his incredible mouth against her delicate breast. David sat up completely, keeping his head tilted to her chest but pulling her legs around until they locked behind him. His hands grabbed eagerly at her bottom, helping her grind down on his shaft which at the new angle seemed to fill into her belly.



“David I’m going to cum so hard for you!” She wailed in reply as she writhed against her son with invigorated force. “Just a little more…” Her voice trailed off raggedly. Her inner thighs were raw and screaming from their overworked muscles and the soft skin chaffed against her son’s hips, however she was too lost in her lust to notice let alone care. David’s hands gripped her hips firmly, pulling and pushing her pelvis back and forth; aiding her tireless body in rocking Charlene to her impending release.



“Cum Mom!” David begged. “Please cum!”



“Just… a little… a little more… Oh fuck!” Charlene screamed as the dam inside her broke. “Oh God! David! I’m cumming!” Her voice broke in a shrill cry as she felt her vagina release its milky nectar against her son. Breathless to the pulse of her eruption, she flattened against his chest, draping her head down alongside his. As the spasm forced her legs to unlock from around him, David leaned back, pulling her down on top of him. She felt his legs rise behind her bottom and at once the tremendous force of the upward stabs of his cock began to slam inside her.



“Fuck!” Charlene cried out, overpowered by the sensations amplifying her climax. “Fuck David, it’s too much!” She screamed, scrambling to try to crawl off him, finally allowing her body to admit it had reached the threshold of pleasure it would tolerate. His arms wrapped around her body tightly, holding her against his chest. She was helpless; trapped to the mercy of his passionate whims. Harder and harder she felt him pierce up into her sex with harsh slaps of his thighs against her bottom. “Oh God David I can’t take it!” She pleaded, desperate to rest and allow the terrible pleasure he was inflicting upon her to ease, if only for a moment.



“I’ll stop when you mean it!” Her son grunted in her ear as he continued to deliver relentless penetration into her core. Charlene’s eyes slammed shut as she fought to endure the climax that David seemed intent to make unending. Her screams had lost the breath it took to sustain them and she dug her teeth into his shoulder, wound her fingers into his hair and clung to him for what felt like dear life. The world around her had become a haze of vertigo and maddening intensity and she felt as a monk might, meditating his way onto a plane of existence that he had never before imagined. The only sound that permeated the disorienting state of bliss was the heavy smack of his flesh against hers.



“So much. Too much! Can’t take it!” Charlene babbled, having been forced well beyond the capacity to formulate complete sentences.



“Then tell me to stop.” David whispered back. “Make me believe it.”



“I can’t!” She whimpered hopelessly. Her heart felt close to arrest, pulsing adrenaline through her veins as she endured the persistent coursing of ecstasy caused by the hammering cock inside her. “David! Oh David I think… I think…” She tried to convey her state but it was hopeless as a renewed rush began to flow through her vagina. Her vision went red as she felt her womanhood gush.



“Again! Again! I’m cumming… Oh God!” She screamed as her lung burned to deliver the words past her lips. Through the delirium of her thoughts she scarcely heard her son’s violent groan of release and the thick swell inside her that preceded the thick wet warmth filling her body once again. Even still however, David made no effort to cease his assiduous assault into her aching vagina. Desperately she fought against her son’s iron arms, wiggling her way free with labored effort as she gasped for air. “Enough! Enough! Stop; please I can’t take more!” She beseeched him, sinking her hands between their chests and holding them against her breast as if to quell the beating of her heart and the stinging surge of the most formidable orgasm she had ever endured. David’s arms relaxed from their unbreakable hold around his mother’s shuddering body and soothed up and down her spine, caressing her skin gently and resigning to her craving for a period of stillness.



Charlene lay pressed against David’s chest, listening to the heavy pattern of his heart beating frantically within for several moments. It seemed to pound as forcefully as her own though to look at her son, she would never have guessed it. Her lungs began to take in air again with ease and she found a tiny reserve of energy to roll to the side. As she freed herself from his warmth, she groaned at the sensation of his slippery cock pulling out of her vagina, followed by the wet flood of his semen seeping out after it. She crawled with effort to position herself alongside his sculpted glistening body and sat up beside him, still attempting to catch her breath as she rocked her head to one side, resting it on his shoulder.



“That was…” Charlene began, panting each word with its own breath.



“Fucking… amazing!” David completed her thought as he stared forward with a static gaze that might have made any onlooker think he was entranced.



“Times like this I wish I never gave up smoking.” Charlene panted, half jokingly as her eyes settled on the magnificent mess that both of their climaxes had deposited along his still pulsing and rigid flesh. David’s look of curiosity burrowed into her, forcing her attention away from his penis and up into his eyes. She realized in that moment that she had never told him how she used to smoke, well before he was born and in truth it wasn’t something she had ever intended to let slip. Charlene had always done her best raise David with a healthy mentality and had given up smoking well before he was born. In truth she had never really been a serious smoker; favoring one here and there when in a social environment where alcohol flowed or, as the present moment had reminded her, after a vigorous roll in the hay. “Oh.” She back peddled. “It was never a habit sweetheart. I just used to like one after sex, that’s all. But that was many, many years ago.” She confessed.



“Maybe you just haven’t had the kind of sex to need one in a while.” David replied with a sheepish grin that reminded Charlene of his youth. She jabbed him playfully in the ribs.



“Look who’s all cocky now!” She laughed. “But now that you mention it, there might be some truth to that.” She sighed as she snuggled up against him again, kicking her legs under her comforter as the air in the room started to bleed off and the chill from the window licked at the moisture on her body.



“Well…” David began carefully; too carefully causing Charlene to regard him again curiously. “If you really want one…” He added, his face looking like he was preparing for his mother to slap the taste out of his mouth.



“David!” Charlene gasped. “Do not tell me you smoke!” She sat fully up looking him sternly in the eyes. The ache of all her body’s muscles complained at the sudden stern motion. David’s hands shot up in defense.



“I don’t!” He replied. “Well, not really. I just like one if I’m drinking that’s all. Phil and I brought some beer up to the ski lodge with us and we picked up a pack of smokes on the ride out of town.” He explained, with a look in his eyes that reminded Charlene of when he was a young boy trying to get himself out of some wrongdoing that she was telling him off over. Charlene relaxed slightly but still wore the countenance of an annoyed mother.



“So you were smoking, and drinking… and you’re only 18 so dare I ask where you got the alcohol?” She asked slipping into the assertive mentality that her maternal instincts demanded.



“Phil brought that; I picked up the cigarettes.” He admitted looking a little more pleased with himself than he should have. Charlene continued to stare at her son for several moments more, until she erupted in hysterical laughter in spite of herself. David’s cautious expression faded into one of wonder, and through her laughter, Charlene felt certain she saw him sigh in relief. “What’s so funny?” He asked.



“Nothing.” Charlene relied, waving the question off as she dabbed tears away from the corners of her eyes. “No it’s just that, you remind me of you when I was your age and on top of that I feel like a moron.” She said. David’s curious face indicated she clearly had not explained herself well enough. “Well I mean here I am; here we are… David I just crawled off your cock and here I am lecturing you about smoking. My priorities just suddenly felt a little fucked up that’s all.” She reasoned. David smiled in reply, probably more due to the fact that he knew he was out of her crosshairs than the fact that she felt ridiculous.



“So what’s the verdict then?” He asked.



“Well if you really want to, you’re going to have to do the leg work.” Charlene replied settling back down against her pillows with a huff. “I’m afraid after what you just put me through, I’m going to be selfish and stay in bed.” She grinned. Once again, her son’s boyish grin made Charlene blush. She watched him rock himself off the bed, his body still moist with perspiration. As he strode out of her bedroom, his cock, still impressively hard, bounced up and down out in front of him. As he stepped from sight, she could not help but bite her lip again as she glared at her son’s firm tight rear.



“How the hell is he still hard?!” Charlene wondered. She whipped the comforter down and settled deeper into her covers, her body relaxing, sore but satisfied. As she lay there, staring at the wall across from her bed it occurred to her that not once since her son had walked in the front door, relieving her of any maternal panic that he was in a ditch freezing to death, had she felt any pang of guilt. No voice had flooded into her mind, screaming at her to stop the horrible moral crimes she was committing and delighting in. She felt happy; giddy even. Before she could over ponder her new found lease on the situation however, David rounded her door frame into the room again, slightly less than hard but still thick and swaying beautifully; his cigarettes in one hand and a make shift ash tray in the other hand comprised of a small white dish from the bowels of the kitchen cupboards that Charlene had forgotten was there.



David settled down under the blankets next to her and placed the dish on his chest. Then, taking two cigarettes from the pack, he placed both in his mouth and lit them together with an expert flick of a silver Zippo that Charlene wondered how long he’d had. He passed one of the cigarettes to her and she set it to her lips, taking a long deep drag from its short golden filter. After a brief sputter in her throat that didn’t quite evolve into a coughing fit, the nicotine did its job, sinking into her system with a sensation that felt like being in the company of an old and long forgotten friend. Silently, Charlene vowed to work out hard the next day to make up this trivial but uncharacteristic lack of judgment.

“Wow.” She sighed as a shallow buzz fizzed in her brain, dulling her senses for a moment. “It’s defiantly been a while.” She added, tilting the cherry into the dish on David’s chest to flick away the burnt ash. She watched as David drew his own to his mouth, sucking in the smoke like he’d been doing it forever and with a pop of his lips, blew a smoke circle high into the air. “Alright Mr. Professional…” She warned him. “So help me, if I see this become a serious habit with you…”



“What?” He cut her off as he flicked his own ashes into the dish. “No more sex?”



“No that punishes me too.” Charlene giggled, trying to return her face to a mother’s cautionary expression. “But I’ll think of something.” She half-heartedly threatened.



“I promise.” He caved. “You can leave them in your nightstand if you want.” He offered, suggesting subliminally that they could both of them, keep the cigarettes in reserve for moments like the one they were in. Charlene nodded in approval.



“Well…” She began, her thoughts drifting back to their situation. David propped himself up on one elbow to face her.



“Yeah we have to do this sooner or later don’t we?” He answered, taking another hit off his cigarette slowly with a look about him that suggested to Charlene that he was already assembling his thoughts. She lay beside him silently, allowing him, in fact praying that he would take the lead on their conversation, because she still was at a loss as to how to begin. Too many thoughts had circulated through her mind since the first transgression between them and while she was relieved to feel that she still wasn’t being burdened with any negativity about it at the moment, she couldn’t really understand that either. “Alright well…” David began. “I suppose I’ve had one question on my mind since this all started happening, so if it’s ok I’ll start there.” He offered. Charlene nodded in gratitude. She took another long drag off her cigarette and flicked it against the dish.



“Before I even get into how this all happened, I really want to know this. Are you sorry it did?” He asked sincerely. Charlene stared at her son for a moment, allowing the question to absorb. At once a complex series of present and past emotions flooded to the surface of her thoughts. After a moments accounting for them all she finally mashed out her cigarette and returned her attention to her son.



“If you had asked me that question even twenty-four hours ago my answer would have been yes.” She finally replied reluctantly. David’s face remained as fixed as poker players, careful not to reveal any emotion until she had finished. “I’ve spent the last few days staggering between being so hot for you that I couldn’t stop touching myself, to staring into a mirror at someone I didn’t feel like I knew, praying to turn back the clock and erase a terrible mistake.”



“So you think it was a mistake?” David asked. Something about the way he interjected made Charlene fairly certain that he hadn’t wished to hear that. She wished he had concentrated more on the fact that she had been relentlessly masturbating of late.



“Well I certainly know that I didn’t wake up that day and make a conscious decision to have sex with you on purpose David. You’re my son. I mean, who does that?” She tried to explain, certain that her words were just digging a nice hole for her to crawl into. David however didn’t react and simply listened. “Anyhow I felt awful. Awful because I’d done it; awful because I couldn’t help but want it again.” She continued. “But I knew there was something undeniable about you; about us. I didn’t really have a grasp on what that was but actually, I think it might finally make sense to me in a way.”



“I’m not sure I’m following you.” David queried, a bit puzzled.



“It came so naturally to us.” Charlene explained. The words left her mouth like a revelation. “There was nothing forced about it, nothing awkward, I mean beyond the obvious… it was electric. It was incredible and it felt so natural. Feels…” She corrected herself. “It feels so natural. David I’ve never been with a man that sex came this easily with. I don’t know whether it’s because you’re my son and I already love you so much but…” Her voice trailed off as Charlene heard herself ramble.



“I think I might have an idea what you mean.” David consoled her.



“Anyhow, no. I’m not sorry. Not anymore, and I can’t begin to tell you what a relief it is to be able to say that because I have been… an absolute train wreck for the last three days David.” Charlene confessed as she reached over her son’s body, fumbling her fingers into his pack of cigarettes for a fresh one and lighting it, as if in preparation to ask the most logical counter question. After a long deep inhalation of smoke she found the nerve. “So obviously I have to ask you the same thing.”



“Whether I’m sorry that it happened?” David asked. “To be honest I’ve been more confused than sorry.” He admitted, drawing out another cigarette for himself and lighting it. “I mean it just never occurred to me.” He added, before sucking in a lung full.



“What didn’t?” His mother asked.



“You.” He answered flatly, waving off his mother’s naturally affronted expression. “Having sex with you; having dirty thoughts about you. It never occurred to me.” He clarified sincerely. “It’s like you said; who does that?” He added, recounting her words. Charlene sat silently a moment, wondering for the first time how many people actually might have considered incest. “Before it actually happened, nothing of the kind had ever popped into my head where you were concerned. I mean mom, when you caught me jerking off I was so embarrassed.”



“Actually, that’s what first did it for me.” Charlene confessed, feeling her face flush red.



“Really?” David asked.



“Oh believe me it was a mixture of emotion.” Charlene corrected herself. “On one hand I was probably as embarrassed as you but on the other; David you have a gorgeous cock. I mean I had no idea!” Charlene bubbled as she reached out and placed her hand on her son’s manhood, tugging on it gently. “Seeing it, well it made all the other thoughts I was having flood to the surface and before I knew it, fucking you was all I could think about.” She admitted as she silently recalled the turmoil of enduring such erotic mental play involving her son. “And though I can’t say I ever saw you through the eyes I do now, aside from your cock you are a very attractive young man. Frankly, I feel odd for not seeing it until now.” Charlene continued to playfully stroke her son as she looked up into his eyes devotedly. Her shoulders felt lighter, free of days of built up fears and self loathing. There was a sense of peace in getting everything out in the open.



“See? Now that makes sense to me.” David replied through the grin that her hand’s affections was causing. I never looked at you like this before all this happened either and now I’m absolutely amazed at how sexy I find you.” Charlene smiled broadly, unable to help the happiness that such a compliment provided. “So…” David sighed with a solemn and intent expression. “The most obvious question is… what now?” David asked mashing out his cigarette. Charlene did the same with hers.



“I don’t want to stop.” She confessed. “David I don’t think I could stop if I did want to.” She added, tugging on his cock with a bit more intent. David’s face dissolved into a moment of bliss before he tried to refocus himself.



“I thought we were talking now.” He grinned in pleasure.



“We are. I just can’t keep my hands off you.” His mother replied, laughing a little but savoring the feel of both of their slippery orgasms smearing between her fingers as she coaxed his cock back to its full state with slow strokes of her hand. “But…” She added suddenly. “I think we need to be a bit more careful.”



“I was wondering about that.” David replied through labored breaths as he tried to concentrate on the conversation despite his mother’s efforts. “Are you on birth control?” He asked as his eyes began to flutter closed.



“No, and that’s how many times now that you’ve cum inside me buster?” Charlene mused. David grinned sheepishly in reply with a shrug of his shoulders to indicate that he too had lost count. “I will go back on the pill but in the meantime…” Charlene warned.



“We need protection.” David replied as he gently took her hand and removed it from his cock. Charlene looked back at him with a look of disappointment. “I can’t concentrate while you do that.” He admitted with a grin.



“I have condoms.” She finally said through her protest, pointing towards her nightstand drawer. “I just never can seem to remember them when we need them.” Almost immediately, Samantha’s suggestion about anal sex came flooding into the forefront of Charlene’s thoughts, bringing with it a new question. “David I actually have a serious question to ask you.” She said solemnly.



“No better time than now then.” He replied, reminding his mother that the topic of conversation was already a fairly serious one.



“Have you… discussed this with anyone else?” Charlene asked with a hint of worry in her tone, not that David might have a confidant that he could confess himself to, but rather how he might react to the inevitable confession that she did.



“Are you kidding?!” David stammered. “Who could I tell? It’s not like I can just pal up to a buddy and be all like, hey man! How are you? I fucked my mother; what are your thoughts?” He added imitating himself jokingly. Charlene didn’t laugh, but stared at him quietly. “Wait… are you saying you have? Who did you tell?” David asked, his tone becoming concerned.



“David I need you to understand; at first I was so conflicted about this that I couldn’t tell up from down.” Charlene began, trying to justify her breach in what David clearly considered a matter of confidence.



“Who Mom?” He asked again.



“I talked to Samantha and she was very helpful…” Charlene began but David cut her short.



“Mrs. Conner?!” He blurted out in amazement. “You told Ben’s mom?!”



“She is my best friend.” Charlene defended herself.



“Mom, remember when Mrs. Harris was planning to divorce her husband and because she confided in Mrs. Conner the whole church was talking about it before her husband ever had a clue?” David reminded his mother, illustrating in perfect detail the result of Samantha’s ability to keep a secret.



“I know; I remember.” Charlene sighed. “First of all Sam always had a grudge against Susan Harris since way back in the day and you know as well as I do that she’s just the type of woman that doesn’t let old gripes go so easily. David, I’ve known her most of my life and she’s never done something like that to me. I know she’s not the best at keeping things to herself but I assure you…” Charlene continued but was interrupted again.



“Not the best? She’s actually one of the worst.” David replied, his face welling up in sheer panic.



“David, she’s thought about Ben.” Charlene stated simply, ceasing her son’s pre-prepared counter arguments. He stared at her confounded. Charlene nodded in the affirmative at the question burning through his eyes. “Yes, she’s had dirty thoughts about Ben. She hasn’t acted on them; come to think of it I kind of doubt she ever would. She seems to be having a fine time living it vicariously though me.” Charlene laughed as she recalled Samantha’s thirst for every tiny detail of her incestuous adventure.



“So she knows…” David asked.



“Everything.” His mother replied. “In fact, if it weren’t for Sam, we probably wouldn’t be here right now. David I know it freaks you out, and to be honest it does preoccupy me as unwise to have told anyone else too, but I had to talk to someone about what happened between us or I was going to burst. If I could only convey the nightmare of emotions I was dealing with. You left and I had nobody. Well actually it didn’t really start there.” She realized out loud. “Anyhow she helped calm me down. She told me that the thoughts; the feelings I have for you were alright. She made me feel like I wasn’t alone; like I wasn’t a horrible freak! I really needed that. I needed to be… ok with it.” Charlene sighed, understanding for the millionth time how much she owed Samantha as a friend.



“You said it didn’t really start there.” David asked after a moment’s consideration.



“I talked to her for the first time about it after I caught you masturbating. Like I said, that’s where it all began for me.” She replied. “And since then, everything that’s happened… well she’s kind of coached me through it. David I promise you, she won’t say a word to anyone.” She related, hoping that the trust she expressed for Sam would carry over to her son’s confidence. He didn’t seem convinced.



“Well, you’re a hell of a lot luckier than I am.” David answered after absorbing everything he had learned. “I was up in the mountains with Phil. God knows I wanted to talk to someone about it, but I don’t think Phil would have been my first choice.”



“It’s a girl thing.” Charlene chuckled, offering some consolation to her son’s obviously less fortunate predicament. “With us it comes easier to talk about things.” Charlene explained warmly, deciding silently not to allude to the second half of the Samantha equation just yet.



“Better to introduce that at another time.” She told herself, but at that moment, her arousal spiked somewhere deep inside her at the prospect of applying Samantha’s suggestion and instruction about alternate sex with David. Charlene brushed the thought aside; they were still talking and she had more to ask. To say nothing of the fact that if David now felt half as connected to her as she did to him, revealing what she and Sam had done might have been viewed as some sort of twisted infidelity. As she considered it like that, Charlene almost felt guilty but resigned herself to staying silent on the matter so as to stay on track.



“Women have secrets for a reason.” She thought to herself.



“Are you alright?” She asked, seeing if she could bring the topic to a close in favor of a new one.



“Yeah I guess. I was just, surprised that’s all.” David admitted. “I wouldn’t think you’d dare talk about this with anyone.”



“And I have no intention of talking about it with anyone else.” Charlene reassured her son. “But I do have one other question for you. It’s probably the least important one out of the lot but I do really want to know.”



“Shoot.” David replied. Charlene leaned in close and pressed her lips passionately against her son’s, opening his mouth with her lips and moaning softly as her tongue tasted his before breaking away again.



“Where did you learn to make love like you do?!” She growled playfully offering her son’s cock another pleasurable tug. David burst into laughter causing her to join him. He reached his arm out wrapped her up in it. Charlene sighed in comfort against his body and continued to happily play with his penis, which twitched delightfully at her soft touches.



“Well…um…” David began; his cheeks crimson with a boyish embarrassment.



“Oh come on!” Charlene exclaimed. “I hardly think you need to go all shy on me now.” She added as she drew her hand up to her lips and adoringly licked a trickle of David’s pre-ejaculate from her fingertips as though completely unable to help herself. “Ok I’ll make this easier. How many girls have you been with?” She asked, returning her hand to his stiffening erection to gingerly stroke it up and down. He moaned and it swelled in her grip.



“Only two.” He replied through ragged breaths. Charlene’s eyes widened in amazement.



“Just two?” She replied, stroking his cock faster in her hands. David grumbled hoarsely in pleasure.



“The first was a girl I never actually told you about.” David admitted. “Remember that school lock-in my junior year?” He continued. Charlene nodded and then propped her head up in curiosity.



“Wait… you’re telling me you lost your virginity in your high school?!” She asked, truly stunned. “Wasn’t that lock-in chaperoned?”



“Well yeah, but she and got to talking, and then we were making out and one thing led to another and…” He mumbled as Charlene released his cock and began to gently run her fingernails across his testicles.



“Well obviously you snuck away from the group.” She remarked, coaxing him to continue.



“We snuck into my history class and did it on the teacher’s desk.” David laughed. Charlene stared up at him in amazement.



“And the second girl?” She enquired, wanting to hear more.



“That was Erin.” David replied, shutting his eyes as he surrendered more to his mother’s skillful fingers.



“Your ex? Well that makes more sense I guess. You two were together for a while.” Charlene reasoned out loud. She remembered Erin well. A slender girl of extremely Greek decent with pretty features and silky dark hair that Charlene had once been very jealous of. Her manners were always exceptional. Charlene had always liked Erin and been sad for her son when things between them had gone south. “Well… you two must have had some serious practice because you my darling son are an incredible lover!” She complimented, tilting her head down to kiss David’s chest warmly.



“Not as much as you might think, and it was nothing like this.” David replied, sending a hot wave of self esteem through Charlene that made her blush.



“Nothing like this?” She repeated the statement. Charlene was suddenly alight with personal pride to hopefully be ranked supreme in her son’s conquests, such as they were.



“Erin was great, but the sex was…” David stopped short with a look that suggested to Charlene that he was trying to be polite.



“Tame?” Charlene offered.



“I almost said boring actually.” David laughed but stopped himself, drawing back to the same polite reserve. Charlene smiled at her son proudly, respecting the fact that even after a break up, he was more inclined to speak well of a person. “I was her first and even after things become easier between us, she was really reserved.” David tried to explain. “I wanted to try to be more experimental; more intense. Erin on the other hand always seemed scared.” He reflected, obviously hoping that the vagueness in his words would suffice his mother’s curiosity. “So anyhow, there hasn’t been anyone since her until you and the difference is indescribable.” David lastly offered, hoping to shift the subject back in a direction he felt like discussing.



“Well I know you like older women.” Charlene said, returning her hand to David’s throbbing cock and continuing to coax his rich young pre-cum from the head.



“Huh?” David asked, taken aback slightly.



“I watched the movie I caught you jerking off to.” Charlene admitted, leaving out the precise details of that event deliberately so as not to return to Samantha. David’s face went red again, causing Charlene to giggle. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Actually it kind of helps me to know you are attracted to women my age.” She offered, brining the color in his cheeks down a notch.



“Yes…” David whispered. “I do like older women more.”



“Well I’m sure I feel nothing like Erin did.” Charlene offered, fishing for the inevitable compliment with all the false coyness she could convey. David laughed.



“You’re right. Nothing at all; so much better.” He answered properly. Charlene groaned in spite of herself; her self confidence brimming over and carrying her arousal along for the ride.



“Is my pussy nice and tight like hers?” Charlene giggled, seeing how much she could get away with.



“Keep talking like that and we’ll go again just to make sure.” David replied with a deep growl in his voice. His mother’s eyes widened in what she was certain would be easily confused with terror. “Or not…” David laughed, summing up her concern. “We don’t have to if…” He began.

Author’s Notes: Our story is told from two perspectives. Odd numbered chapters are written by me and told from the son’s point of view; even numbered by my mother, in her voice. Fair warning now, it’s a LONG story, so if that’s going to be an issue, press BACK now.



Note to category purists who don’t like cross contamination of genres – elements of exhibitionism, anal, lesbians and group sex are all present, but it is basically an Incest/BDSM story. It begins slow and lets events unfold naturally, with no category exhibiting strongly at the outset, more as an overall aim of the two protagonists. I do, however, like to think of it more as a love story than jack-off material. So if the latter is what you seek, you’ve come to the wrong place. Sorry ’bout that!








“Oedipus Spanks” by Sam Knight and his mother



Contents



Ch.01 Son develops feelings for his Mom.

Ch.02 Mom’s secret fantasy.

Ch.03 Son discovers Mom’s secret website.

Ch.04 Mom films herself naked in Son’s room.

Ch.05 Son threatens to spank Mom.

Ch.06 Mom asks Son to visit sex shop for her.

Ch.07 Son and Mom both need to masturbate.

Ch.08 Mom is still so horny.

Ch.09 Son walks in on Mom masturbating.

Ch.10 Mom shows Son her dirty video.

Ch.11 Son explains the rules of the game.

Ch.12 Mom becomes Son’s naked slave.

Ch.13 Son leaves naked Mom on public display.

Ch.14 Mom has an orgasm in public.

Ch.15 Son experiences aftermath of Mom’s orgasm.

Ch.16 Mom is led into town on a leash, naked.

Ch.17 Son denies Mom orgasm while he masturbates.

Ch.18 Mom is teased on a night out on the town.

Ch.19 Son ties Mom to a tree, stark naked.

Ch.20 Mom is laid out like a geisha to serve lunch.

Ch.21 Son plays a dirty game with Mom in water.

Ch.22 Mom lets son take her buttered backside.

Ch.23 Son invites lesbians to come pleasure Mom.

Ch.24 Mom naked outdoors in own street.

Ch.25 Son’s message to Mom, one year on.





Chapter 01



The global economy was in the shitter. When the financial crisis began, I’d only been out of school and in my new job for a few months. It was a case of last in, first out. It didn’t matter that I liked what I was doing, it didn’t matter that I was good at what I was doing, it didn’t even matter that I was a hard and dedicated worker; I was new, I was out.



Mom had been so proud of me the day she helped me to move out of the family home and into my own flat. It was a small place, basically just half an attic space in a three storey house that had been converted into six flats. As such, I hadn’t moved all the stuff I’d accumulated from 18 years living at home into the new place. There just wasn’t room for it all. I still had my bedroom at home and all my crap – my good crap – stayed put.



It broke Mom’s heart the day I called her on the phone and said I just couldn’t afford to live there anymore. The job market was in the toilet, I had no skills and very little experience, people just weren’t hiring teenagers for anything other than menial tasks at below minimum wage.



I packed my stuff into the back of Mom’s Volkswagen and couldn’t help but feel totally dejected as she drove me back to the family nest.



“Cheer up son,” Dad said as he stood on the front porch, welcoming me back. “It’ll pick up again soon. You’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”



Well it didn’t pick up again soon. Oh, I got another job, one which I hated. Serving people at a bread and cake chain store. I had to wear a hair net. I found it humiliating and degrading, especially when people I knew came in to buy something.



School friends would find it hard to keep a straight face when they came in during their breaks from college and I’d hear them laughing the moment they stepped outside.



I didn’t last very long. I was just so miserable there, Mom told me she’d rather I quit than see me so desperately unhappy all the time.



My parents weren’t poor. They weren’t rich by any means, but the house was paid for, Mom and Dad each had a nice car, we always went on holidays together and they had enough dough to see them through a rainy day or two if need be.



Dad had a job, but was not in a position to offer me a placement as the only positions he had any say about were graduate positions. And I wasn’t a graduate.



Far from being stupid. I just didn’t really have any idea what to study. Besides which, I’d been in school for a long time and wanted a change of scenery. I thought, maybe in a few years, I’d have more of an idea and go back and finish my studies then. And do so when I had some money under my belt to see me through. I didn’t relish being a poor, indebted student.



Two demeaning jobs and a couple of long stints on unemployment benefit later, Mom suggested I rethink my strategy of putting university on hold. She hated to see me mope around the house, not going out, not seeing friends.



Mom gave me an allowance, Dad did too, though as Mom didn’t work, I guess it all came from Dad. They had never been tight fisted. But that was besides the point. I loved them, I didn’t want to have to rely on them that way indefinitely, I wanted to make my own way.



But that just wasn’t happening.



So I took Mom’s advice and applied to university, two years later than all of my friends. My parents would pay, as they always said they would. They didn’t want paying back, they just wanted what was best for me. Seeing me twiddling my thumbs, feeling hopeless and not living my life was not what they wanted.



I only just got my application forms in on time. I hadn’t been planning on doing it this year, so everything had been a rush, even visiting my old school to ask for some references.



Mom was sat in the kitchen when I came down the stairs. Dad had already left for work. I had butterflies in my stomach and was slightly agitated. What if I didn’t get in? What if no one wanted me? It wasn’t like I had anything to show for myself, or any great skill, or achievement from the time since I’d left school.



“C’m'ere Babes.” Mom always called me that. I may have been twenty, but I was always going to be her baby boy.



I walked up to where she was seated at the breakfast bar, hands in my pockets, head down. I just stood there as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in close, smattering my head with little kisses.



“What are you and me going to do with ourselves this summer?” she asked. She wanted desperately to get me out of my rut.



“I dunno Mom.”



“You don’t know?” she chirped as if talking to a four year old, though without any patronising quality to her voice. “I’m sure we can think of something. You and me. There must be lots of things we can do together …”



I looked up at her and smiled half-heartedly.



“If you don’t mind being seen out and about with your old Mom, that is.”



“You’re not old Mom.” My response was instantaneous.



She smiled, cupping my cheeks in her hands and drawing my head to hers, until our foreheads were touching. As we looked into each others eyes, she wrinkled her nose and rubbed it against my nose, Eskimo style.



“Dad’s going to be quite busy over the next few months. He’s got two major accounts and he’s going to be away quite a bit. He suggested to me last night in bed, that you and I take a few little vacations. Not far. Just around Britain. A few nights here, a few nights there. Just to coincide when Dad’s away, that’s all. What do you say to that Babes?”



I looked up and thought for a moment or two. Far from being objectionable, I thought it was a cool idea. “Like where?” I asked.



“Where would you like?”



A smile came to my face. The moment Mom saw it, it made her so happy that she pulled my face to hers and planted a great big smooch on my lips.



“Mom!”



“I’m sorry Babes,” Mom chuckled at the strength of my protest. “I just haven’t seen that smile of yours in such a long time. I missed it, that’s all.”



“It’s okay Mom. I’m sorry I …” I laughed myself. I had been taken quite off guard by the location of the kiss. “It’s okay.”



I raised my index finger to my lips and kissed it, then pressed that same finger against my Mom’s lips. Mom kissed them back and smiled at me. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight for a few minutes, gently swaying side to side, back and forth in her arms. She was so comforting, my mother. I loved her with all my heart. We’d always been friends. She was the one who would always sneak up to comfort me after I’d been disciplined or punished by Dad.



I’d hear the soft footsteps on the landing and the quiet knock on the door, then she’d just slip in and come lay down alongside me on my bed, put her arms over me and rest her cheek on mine. It was never long before she had me up and about and smiling again.



And Dad wasn’t nasty or anything. I loved him too. He was just the parent who dealt with all that sort of thing. It was only right that a young boy learn what his mistakes were and take responsibility for them. Dad saw to all that, so Mom didn’t have to. She was free to be the love giving parent.



And that was just fine. Given the choice of Mom coming up to my bedroom to give me a cuddle and a kiss or Dad doing the same – eurgghh – I’d choose Mom any day of the week.



“So where were you going to suggest?” she asked.



I looked at her and smiled, before giving my answer, making her smile too.



A few weeks went by before the first of Dad’s business trips. Mom had succeeded in bringing me some way out of my slump, but I still hadn’t heard back from the university people other than a receipt of my application form. Mom had booked the first of our trips. Cornwall.



Mom drove all the way, stopping at service stations every hundred or so miles, for a break, something to eat and drink, a pee, or even just to stretch our legs. We had a few CDs in the car that she liked to listen to and I hadn’t brought any. All my songs were on my mp3 player and required earphones. So most of the way, it was KT Tunstall, Alanis Morissette and Liz Phair, three of Mom’s favourites.



My Mom was a cool chick, with music to match. It may not have been my cup of tea, but it was so much better than Dad’s classical music that he kept in his BMW.



I’d never really listened much to Mom’s music in her car, because I only ever went on short journeys with her, five or ten minutes at a time and the music would be turned down in the background because we were usually talking. Whenever we went anywhere of some distance, it was always in Dad’s car, with Dad driving and Beethoven and Bach and Handel and the like on his stereo.



But this was probably the first time that I really got to listen to some of the stuff Mom was into. Oh, she played a bit of KT Tunstall around the house. I knew half the lyrics to ‘Suddenly I See’ myself, but Liz Phair was fairly new to me. And it came as something of a surprise.



There were two songs in particular that gelled with me. One was called ‘Little Digger’ in which the songstress kept repeating the line ‘My Mother Is Mine’ which made me feel kind of happy because for the next few days, my mother was going to be – all mine. And it made me feel close to my Mom, because she was hearing the line too and every time Liz sang it, Mom would look at me and I would look at her. She’d smile, then I’d smile. I don’t know what the song was about, but that line brought us closer somehow.



The other song was causing Mom to blush somewhat and she was refusing to look anywhere other than straight ahead. The display text on the central console readout simply had three letters. H. W. C.



The song hadn’t got off to the best of starts, using the F word – a word we generally didn’t use in our family, but it just spiralled from there. Several times Mom’s left arm twitched, threatening to leave the steering wheel to do something about the song.



If I thought the ‘My Mother Is Mine’ line had been repeated a lot in the other song, it was nothing compared to the repetitive lyric in this one – ‘Gimme Your Hot White Cum’. Over and over and over again.



Mom’s face looked like it was going to explode as I cast my eyes sideways in my head, trying not to blush myself. The song was all about a woman pulling back on her lover’s penis to make him ejaculate on her so she could rub it in her face and hair and all over her body to make her skin look fresh and youthful. I didn’t even know there were songs about that sort of thing out there. I’d never heard a song with the F word in it before today.



When the song finally came to a close what must have seemed like twenty minutes later, even though it was only about three, I turned my head to my mother and she turned hers to me. Without saying anything, I failed to keep my smile contained and the snigger that came out triggered a similar reaction in Mom. It wasn’t long before we were laughing so hysterically that Mom had to pull over, for fear of causing an accident.



“I’m sorry Babes, I’m so ashamed.”



I put my hand on my mother’s. “It’s okay Mom. I liked it. It was catchy.” I began to sing sheepishly, “Gimme your hot white cu-uh-uh-um! Gimme your hot white cum.”



I didn’t stop to think how stupid it sounded me singing it, asking for another man’s semen.



“Oh stop Babes, you’re embarrassing me.”



“Go on, sing it with me Mom.” I pressed the previous track select on the stereo and the song began to play again. Track eleven.



A minute later we were driving and smiling again, singing the song together, Mom and me, “Gimme your hot white cu-uh-uh-um, gimme your hot white cum!”



We hadn’t been to Cornwall for many years. I think the last time we went, I was about twelve, but I’d remembered it fondly, staying in an apartment in St. Ives, around the back, overlooking Porthmeor Beach where we’d watch the tremendous waves that would come crashing in on a stormy day.



But at relative short notice and with the onset of tourist season, which always started early in Cornwall, we hadn’t been able to find the ideal spot for a short break, instead having to book a hotel.



Cornwall is a little unusual for Britain. Most of the country is served by chain hotels, catering to both the budget conscious and the cost no object crowd. But what Cornwall was lacking, was those famous brand hotels, whether they be Travelodges, Premier Inns, Holiday Inns or Hiltons, because those hotels were usually set up on routes frequented by businessmen who travelled on the road, like Dad.



Cornwall was a bit of a dead end, geographically speaking, sitting down there in the south west of Britain. Indeed, the most southerly point in mainland Britain was located in Cornwall – the Lizard, so too the most westerly point – Land’s End. But far from being a scenic dead end, Cornwall was one of the most beautiful places in the whole of the British Isles.



But that left us in a hotel. The only place we’d been able to find that had space was in Penzance. And the rooms were a little pricey. A little too pricey to warrant two rooms, one each for Mom and me. After all, it was only for three nights and it was just the two of us. And at a cost of £150 a night, it was just crazy to spend £900 for two rooms for two people, particularly when bed, breakfast and evening meal for two was included in the cost of each room.



When we got to the room, we were in for a surprise. There was just the one bed. Mom went into a bit of a panic. She’d booked online and couldn’t recall whether this was correct or not. She was sure she’d booked a room with two single beds.



“Don’t sit down,” she called out to me, just as I was about to slump down and crease the corner of the double bed.



She rummaged through her handbag for the printout. The look on her face when she looked up at me told me it was Mom’s error. Her jaw was hanging in mid air. She raised her hand to her mouth.



“I looked at so many different rooms on the computer,” she said. “I was sure it was for two singles. I’ll go see if they can change.”



“Mom. Mom,” I shouted, trying to snap her out of it. “It doesn’t matter, it’s okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ve done it before. I’ll survive.”



She walked up to me and stroked the side of my face with her hand. “No Babes. Bring the luggage, we’ll go back down to reception and see if they can put us in another room.”



The hotel was fully booked however and there were no other rooms.



We settled our luggage back into the room and used the facilities to refresh ourselves. Then set out for a little walk to see what was nearby. After about an hour, we returned to the hotel, but it was still too early for dinner, so we strolled over to the bar.



“What will you have Mom? My treat.” I always did that sort of thing. Even though the money I had was basically pocket money given to me by Mom or Dad, I at least liked to put my hands in my pockets when I could, if only to show my appreciation to them. Yes, it was money they wanted me to spend on myself, but I really took pleasure in buying Dad a drink every now and again, or surprising Mom with flowers for no particular reason, just that I loved her.



“Uh, G&T for me Babes. Lemon, no ice.”



“And a pint of Kronenburg for me,” I said to the hotel bar man.



£7.50. Jeepers. That was a lot, I thought, looking for some loose change to go with the five pound note I held at the ready in my hand.



We found a table in the window. It was a nice hotel and it had huge picture windows in the bar area, just off the lobby, that looked out to sea. We sat side by side on a leather sofa, facing out to admire the view, taking sips from our glasses and just generally relaxing, talking about our journey down, ribbing Mom about the song and discussing our plans for the next few days.



Without food, two rounds of drinks had made us a little tipsy when we went in for dinner – which was included in the price. We still had to pay for drinks. All in all, it was a very pleasant meal and Mom and I once again adjourned to the bar for a little night cap.



Mom had stayed on the gin and tonics and I had stayed on the lager, but the air conditioning in the hotel and the slightly salty meal had dried out Mom’s mouth and left her craving for something long and cool.



She gestured toward my glass, “Mind if I …”



I shook my head. “Go ahead Mom. Feel frrree,” I said, stumbling on my words with a giggle in my intoxicated state. I think if I’d been a little more sober I would have made some pathetic complaint about catching cooties from my Mom sharing my glass.



Mom lifted the near full pint glass to her lips and began to slurp. And slurp. And slurp. And before I knew it, all but a half inch at the bottom was gone from my glass.



My Mom let out a little belch, then wiping her lips with the back of her hand, said, “God, I needjid zhat!” Then smiled and began to giggle.



I went and bought myself a replacement pint and brought along a half for my mother and settled it down alongside her G&T glass.



“Whashat for? Are you tchrying to get Mommy dhrunk, Babesh?”



“Mom … I think you’re well past that stage. Jush enjoy it.”



We managed to get each other back to the room safely and we both seemed to sober up slightly when we saw our bed situation. Mom had insisted we share the bed, but I had insisted just a little bit more that we didn’t. I took a pillow and a blanket while Mom was in the bathroom changing and lay them down on the floor to the side of the bed.



I could hear water running and so assumed Mom was cleaning her teeth, so instead of waiting to use the bathroom to change after Mom, I took off all my clothes and sat nude on the edge of the bed, pulling up my pyjama shorts just in time to hear the water shut off and Mom’s hand on the door handle.



“Oh Babesh. I feel sho guilty about dish. Are you sure you won’t shleep in zhuh bed?”



“Mom. I’m fine. Stop worrying, will you!” I settled onto the floor and Mom, in a thin green satin nightgown, that barely covered her supple thighs, slinked under the covers alongside me.

It wasn’t long before she let her arm dangle out of the bed to hover over me, fidgeting, waiting for me to take it. I did. I held onto her hand.



“I love you Babesh.”



“I love you Mom.”



Night.



“Oww! What the …” I was shaken out of slumber by a blunt pain to my side, then another to my stomach. Wondering where I was and what was going on, I was suddenly the recipient of one of the most agonising experiences of my life. I cried out in pain as my Mom stepped on my balls with her bare feet, then stumbled, landing on top of me in a heap.



“Mom? What are you doing?” I cried, buckling over, clenching my little guy between my legs.



Mom’s face was about an inch from mine. It was dark, but I could still make her out. Suddenly I felt something wet on my face, missing my open mouth by a fraction, it trickled down my cheek.



Mom immediately lifted her hand to wipe her face and I realised, she had just inadvertently drooled on me.



“I’m sorry Babes. I forgot you were there.”



I helped her to her feet and into the bathroom, where the light blinded us both. Before I could turn to leave her in privacy, she lifted her nightgown and sat straight down on the toilet and started to go. I saw the briefest, most fleeting glance of my Mom’s pussy and turned my head immediately and left her alone.



Mom came out of the bathroom and took more care, stepping over me. As I watched her kneel on the bed, I caught a glimpse of her ass and Lord help me, but for some mysterious reason, completely unknown to me, my dick twitched.



“Night Babes.”



“Night Mom.”



I leaned over onto my side, facing away from my mother and tried to get back to sleep. Now, when I’ve been disturbed in the middle of the night in the past, I usually can’t just fall back asleep, I have to think of something.



What I think of varies, but it probably has something to do with that song from the Sound of Music. I try to think of my favourite things, but nothing too stimulating. I normally just try to picture some ideal future for myself, a house, wife, kids, that sort of thing. But no matter what I tried to think of, all I could see in my mind’s eye was the flash of brown fur between my Mom’s legs and her big, juicy, succulent, perfect ass.



What was wrong with me? This was my mother. This was the woman who gave birth to me, who let me suckle on her breasts, who bathed me and dressed me and took me to school, who was always there for me, kind and caring and loving, always with a sweet hug and a kiss. And I had a boner for her?



Suffice it to say, it was a long time before I finally drifted off to sleep.



Next morning, I woke on the floor, on my back. It took me a moment or two to realise where I was, before becoming aware, like I did most mornings, that I had an erection. It wasn’t sexual. It was just a need to pee. The chemicals that were released during the night by my brain to quell that desire had subsided and a new chemical sent word to my penis to wake me up to go start my day.



The next thing I became aware of was my mother, lying face down, sideways across her bed, with her arms crossed under her and her chin rested on them, looking at me. And the tent in my blanket. I twitched again and I’m sure a faint crease appeared at the corner of her mouth. Rolling onto my side, I said good morning to my mother.



“Good morning Babes. Sleep well?”



“Um, let me think about that, um …” I smiled, so too did she.



“You’re sleeping on the bed tonight.”



“Mom, it’s fine.”



“It’s not fine. You’re sleeping with me. And if you refuse, I’m going to sleep on the floor as well.”



“Mom, that’s ridiculous.”



“No. What’s ridiculous is paying £150 a night and my son sleeping on the floor. That’s ridiculous.”



“Mom, I can’t sleep with you.”



“Why not? I don’t bite …” A look of mischief came to her face. “Unless you want me to!”



I laughed. “Mom. It’s just not right. I’m not a little kid anymore and I’m not Dad.”



“What does Dad have to do with it?”



“Well you’re his wife, he’s your husband, you’re married, it will be like cheating.”



She scoffed at me. “Why would it be like cheating? You’re my son and I love you more than anything in the world. You’re my darling baby boy, not some stranger picked up in a bar. You’re sleeping in the bed tonight, or I’m sleeping on the floor. That’s the choice. Are you gong to make your poor, old mother sleep on a hard floor?”



“Mom, you’re not old.” Again, I was instantaneous. But I saw the look of seriousness in her eyes. Once she got that look, I knew she meant it and would be good to her word.



“Oh alright, I’ll sleep in the bloody bed if it’ll make you happy.”



She scooted out of the bed and knelt down alongside me, lifting my blanket and snuggled up beside me, pulling the blanket back over us both. She placed her head on my pillow and rested her palm on my chest.



“Oh God, how did you ever sleep a wink on this hard floor?”



Being drunk helped, I thought. After her mid-night foray into the bathroom, it wasn’t so easy after that.



She started to rub her hand across my chest. It was just a little bit hairy. I had a little in the centre of my chest and a little upside down V on my stomach around my belly button, but most of my hair seemed to be around my nipples. And it was those that her fingers began to circle, every so often tugging a little on those hairs.



Far from finding it uncomfortable, I found it mildly soothing. What she did next however, I found to be incredibly awkward. In an attempt to get more comfortable, probably not even thinking about it, or at very least, having forgotten about it, Mom readjusted herself, bringing her right leg up onto my left thigh. Her right knee was sitting directly on top of my boner, flattening it.



As every man that has ever been will know, a flattened boner is an anxious boner. My little guy pressed into the side of my mothers knee, throbbing, pulsing, trapped.



As her head lay next to mine, I looked at her, we were breathing in each other’s breath. My heart raced and her eyes fixed on mine. She was painfully aware of what she had done and was not quite sure how to extricate herself from this most unfortunate of positions that a mother and son could find themselves in. Again my erection pulsed.



Without further ado, my mother spoke, “Who’s first in the bathroom, you or me?” As she was speaking, she moved her leg back to the sidelines. She tapped my chest, waiting for an answer.



“I need to pee Mom, but then you can go before I do anything else.”



Why I said that, I don’t know. Yes, I needed to pee, but could I get up without showing my doozie of a boner to my mother? Whatever. I got up and went and did what I needed to do.



As I washed my hands in the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror. Actually looked at myself, almost accusingly. This woman was the most precious person in the world to me and I had spent half the night having illicit thoughts about various parts of her anatomy.



I pulled my pyjama’s down and let them fall around my ankles. The mirror in the hotel en suite was full length, no window, just a light. I looked at it. My penis.



Morning erections normally tended to diminish as soon as urination began. By the conclusion of urination, it was usually half mast, or semi-hard/semi-flaccid. This thing was throbbing. It was out of my foreskin and everything. That practically never happened with an a.m. boner. Yeah, I’d be hard, but not so hard that my mushroom cap would come out to play. That only happened when my mind got sexed up. As it was right now. For Mom.



Mom knocked on the door. “Can I come in Babes. Mommy’s really got to pee.”



I could hear her hand squeezing the door handle, so quickly reached down to pull my PJs up. I opened the door for Mom and she scooched past me and sat down on the toilet. This time I made sure not to look, instead taking me and my boner out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me.



I slumped back against the wall and my hand naturally found its way inside my slack fitting pyjama bottoms. I grabbed hold of my foreskin and forcibly pulled it back over my glans to cover it and afford it some protection from the harsh elements. I could however feel the telltale slickness of pre-cum all over my fingers and shaft.



I reprimanded myself for having the thoughts I was having. My own mother. My penis, hard as a rock, sliding between those delicious half moons I’d seen last night as she got back into bed. STOP IT.



Slipping between her legs to reach her fur, wrapping my arm around her body to touch the tip of my penis against her pubes, using my other arm to float up inside her nightie to cup her breast, give it a squeeze, tease a nipple. Kiss her neck from behind. Oh God, what was happening to me? I’d never been so horny in my life.



My fingers were in my mouth and I was licking my pre-cum off them. God, I was a pervert. A moment later my hand was back in my PJs and I was squeezing out another handful of my juices, again bringing them to my mouth to taste and swallow, somehow imagining they were my mother’s own juices.



Oh, I’ve got to stop this. I have so got to stop this. I had to have a wank. I just had to have a wank. There was no way I was going to get through today with Mom without jerking off thinking about her.



No, I can’t do that. I just can’t. I can’t I tell you. Stop it. Leave me alone. Why won’t you just leave me alone?



If I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, the angel had his pants down and had his cock in his hand. The devil was already fucking my mother, twelve ways from Sunday.



Breakfast was an uneasy affair. We sat across the table from each other in the same seats we had occupied at dinner the previous night. I was fairly quiet, looking around the dining room, always averting my gaze when I felt Mom looking at me. Before long, Mom spoke up.



“It’s perfectly natural you know.”



“What is?” I asked, not for one moment thinking Mom would bring it up as a topic of conversation.



“To have an erection in the morning. Your Dad has them all the time.”



“Mom!”



“Shh!” she hushed me. I’d been a bit too vigorous with my objection again. Heads were turning.



“Mom, you can’t talk about shit like that.”



“Why not?”



“Because …”



“Because what?”



“Because it’s sensitive.”



“Oh please. You make it sound like half the world doesn’t wake up in the exact same condition as you woke up. You had a boner. So what!”



“Mom!” I stifled my outrage.



“I didn’t raise my son to be such a prude.”



I had to smile at that. When I did, she smiled right back at me, her eyes positively glowing, perhaps realising the abject sauciness of her words at long last.



“Mom!” I said barely above a whisper.



She stood up and leaned across the table to kiss me on my cheek. As she took to her seat, her arm stretched out and her fingers wiped away the lipstick mark she had left on the side of my face.



“Come on. Let’s just forget about it, eh? It’s nothing. Penises have minds of their own. They stand up when they see a nice lady and they stand up when they need a pee. It’s harder for … I mean, it’s more difficult for men, having such an expressive body part. When women are turned on they’re a lot more subtle. It doesn’t show so much unless you know where to look.”



“Mom, I wasn’t turned on.” I lied.



“I know, I’m just saying, it’s the dual nature of … well, you know.”



“Can we change the subject Mom? I had a boner, yes, I have one every morning. It just means I need to pee. It doesn’t go away ’til I’ve had one.”



“Consider the subject changed. Right, I think it’s going to be a nice day, shall we go to St. Ives?”



I smiled and nodded, unable to disguise my delight.



“As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives, every wife had seven sacks, every sack had seven cats, every cat had seven kits. Cats, kits, sacks, wives, how many were going to St. Ives?”



“Two!” I replied. “Just you and me Mom!”



St. Ives hadn’t changed a bit. It was exactly as I remembered it, frozen in time.



Parking the car at the top of the hill overlooking Porthmeor Beach, we wandered down into the town. For some reason, I don’t know what, I don’t know why, Mom took a hold of my hand and we strolled about like that all morning, releasing only momentarily to pick things up or put things down, or hand over money or scratch our noses, but always returning to hold each other’s hand. It was nice and gentle in a caring sort of way and I didn’t feel in the least bit self conscious about holding my mother’s hand in public.



Mom bought me a new watch in one of the side streets, just because I liked it and she caught me looking at it. It came as a complete surprise, but such a nice one nonetheless. We sat down in a pub for some lunch, nothing heavy because we’d be eating late.



It was a lovely day, the sun was shining bright, it was warm, it was just beautiful, perfect in every way. Mom and me had only light summery clothes on, I was in shorts and a T shirt, Mom a skirt and a thin cotton T shirt. We really didn’t need anything more.



It was mid afternoon before Mom started to drive us back, but we needed to stop off for a few supplies along the way. There was a supermarket and a few chain stores, but Mom wanted to pick up some snacks and some drinks, so we wouldn’t have to spend so much in the hotel bar. We could take the alcohol up to our room instead and save a bundle.



As we walked into the supermarket, I said to Mom, “I think I need a shit. Where’s the toilet?” I had to be crude, to disguise my true intentions.



Mom pointed out the toilets and I said, “I’ll catch you up. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”



I found a stall, wiped the seat with some toilet paper, yanked down my shorts and pants and took my dick in my hand, shut my eyes and began wanking.



Toilet paper. I’ll need some toilet paper, so I ripped off a few sheets. It was horrible stuff, cheap, thin, longer than normal toilet paper, but incredibly poor quality. I dropped it onto my shorts around my ankles and shut my eyes again.



I tried to think of other people. Actresses, sexy situations. But Mom kept coming into my thoughts. That flash of bush. I was in the hotel bathroom with her. That green nightie of hers hiked up around her waist, her ass cheeks supporting her, knees apart. I could see between her legs, all that fur.



Ohhhh, my breathing got heavier and I had to reel myself in and remember where I was.



That white lacy bit that sat atop the plunging neckline, the thin pale green satin clinging to her breasts, my face getting closer to her hardening nipples. Looking up at her face, deep into her eyes. Those lips, kissing those lips, Mom’s lips, Mom, oh Mom, Mom, Mommy. I reached for the TP and blew my load. That had to have been some sort of record. That was less than a minute. I’d never come that fast in my life before.



I squeezed every drop out of my penis, before wiping myself off, holding the spent wad to my face, I sniffed it, thought of Mom, kissed it, thanked her quietly and then flushed it in the bowl behind me. I washed my hands and went and found Mom.



“You weren’t long Babes. I thought you’d be in there quarter of an hour.”



“Turned out I just needed a good fart Mom. I think I frightened the guy in the next cubicle. I couldn’t help laughing at how loud it was.”



She feigned disapproval at me, but secretly I knew she loved hearing me say stuff like that, even though this time, none of it had been true.



We finished the shop and Mom handed me the keys of the car to go load the shopping up. She wanted to nip into next door for something or another.



The sky had turned dark and the wind had picked up. There was now a chill in the air and rain seemed imminent.



I sat in the VW waiting, waiting. Then I saw Mom coming my way as the heavens suddenly opened and released torrents down upon my mother. She ran to the car and I reached across to open the door for her, but by the time she sat down, she was soaked through and shivering.



“Mom, you’ve got to take that off, you’ll get pneumonia otherwise.” That was something she always said to me when I came in soaked through.



“I can’t take it off, I’ve got nothing else to wear.”



“Yes you do Mom.” I immediately pulled my T shirt over my head and pulled my shorts down and handed them to her.



“What are you doing? Put them back on.”



“Mom, you’re soaked through. I’m dry. You’re gonna catch your death if you sit like that. Come on. Take your top off.” I helped her with it. She sat there in her pale pink bra and I could see her dark nipples underneath poking through. They were like bullets. She swiftly put my T shirt on over her head and noticed how it covered her below the waist as well since it was much bigger than hers had been.



“Put your shorts back on. This is fine.”



“Mom you can have them. You need to take your dress off, it’s soaking.”



“It’s not a dress Babes. It’s a skirt. There’s a difference you know.”



I didn’t know. I thought the terms were interchangeable. Whatever, she undid her skirt and took it off, flinging her wet clothes into the back seat, sitting there all wet and windswept in just my T shirt and her underwear and shoes.



“You can put them on,” she said. “I don’t need them.



“Mom, they’re the only dry thing in the car. At least dry yourself off with them.”



“And what are you going to do when we get back to the hotel? Just walk through the lobby in just your underpants?”



“No, you can go up to the room and get me some clothes, bring them back down to me, it won’t take more than a minute or two.”



She couldn’t argue with my logic. She was soaking and shivering, even though the engine was switched on and the fan was attempting to blow out warm air, with a cold engine, that air wasn’t so warm.



Mom physically shook from the cold as we sat there arguing, so I took my shorts and started to wipe her arms, then her hair. She took over from me and dried herself up, then as the fan started to warm up, she leaned over and kissed me on my cheek.



“Look at us eh? What would your Dad say if he could see us now?”



I looked at her, but looked at her differently now. Just half an hour earlier I had jacked off thinking about her. And since then, I’d got a real good outline of her nipples and she’d kissed me.



I got that telltale sensation in my pants and clenched tightly, digging my backside deep into the passenger seat. I couldn’t let Mom see my erection now. She’d know it was for her this time, if I did.



David Cameron. Gordon Brown. Tony Blair. John Major. Margaret Thatcher. Who was before her? I couldn’t go back any further than my own lifetime, so I switched to American presidents. Barack Obama. George W Bush. Bill Clinton. Other George Bush. Ronald Reagan.



That seemed to do the trick. Politicians always got rid of my hard ons. They were sure fire damp squibs.







Chapter 02



I walked through the lobby of the hotel in my son’s T shirt and my own damp underwear. I had seen his erection in the car and thought about it all the way back to Penzance.



I couldn’t very well rebuke him, he had done such a kind thing for me. We brought him up well, that’s one thing I will say for myself and my husband. We are good parents.



Although sometimes I wonder. If he only knew of my hidden urges and desires. If he knew his dear Mom lived a secret fantasy life in her head because she’s so sexually frustrated it aches.



Even now, walking through the lobby, feeling people’s eyes on me, I want to be exposed. How I wish my son had kept his clothes on and insisted I get out of mine. Out of my top, out of my skirt. But Mom, your panties are soaked through and your bra is all wet, I can see your nipples. You have to get out of those wet clothes and I’m not taking no for an answer. Strip. Do it now. Strip.



And then leading me, naked, through to the elevators. My pussy was wet just thinking about it. I’d been tingling all day. As I lay on the bed this morning gazing at my son’s cock bob up and down as he slept peacefully, as I placed my knee upon it and felt it heave, our breakfast conversation, I’ve been squirming down there ever since. I need to masturbate, but how can I do it with my son around all the time?

I need to send him out so I can have half hour alone, naked on the bed. Although I don’t just want to be naked in the room. I want to step out into the corridor naked, walk down the hall, maybe get as far as the elevator and go down a few floors and come back up again. Feel the danger, walk past the doors with their little peep holes and picture guests spying on my nude body, walking up to the window and pressing my body against it. Look at me, look at me. Please, look at me.



I want to be a slave. All the time. Subservient, submissive, exposed and humiliated in public. I want eyes on me. I want to be commanded, punished, whipped, spanked, oh God, I’m such a horny little pervert.



I let myself into our room. We’d had maid service, that was very evident. I stripped off my son’s oversize T shirt, took off my bra and panties and just stood there in the middle of the room.



My fingers found my nipples and began tweaking them. Harder. I pinched them and tugged them out, pulling my breasts away from my body. Ow. Then release. Again. Again.



My hand found its way between my legs. My God, I was like a swamp down there. Bad Mommy. I smacked my vulva. And did it hard. The pain shot through me. It was intense. So too the thrill. Once more, then I turned my attentions to my ass.



Smack. Smack. Smack. I slapped my bottom ’til it was raw. I might have trouble sitting down later. But I couldn’t linger. My son was sat in the car in just his underwear and I didn’t want him playing with his cock in public.



I slid my soaking wet panties back on, slipped my arms through my bra straps, pulling the cups down under my boobs before feeling around back to fasten it. I put my son’s T shirt back on and grabbed a pair of trousers and a T shirt from his case and headed out to find him.



When I got back to the room for the second time, I was not alone. My son was with me. It was still a few hours to dinner and we had our own alcohol now so didn’t need to pay the exorbitant prices in the hotel bar.



“I’m going to take a bath, Babes, okay?”



“Sure Mom. Why don’t you take a glass of wine in with you? It’ll help warm you up.”



I loved my son. He was such a thoughtful, kind young man. And he’d just had an excellent idea. I walked over to him as he sat on the corner of the bed fiddling with the TV remote and lifted his chin with my fingers. I edged my face closer to his, giving him an idea of my intentions and giving him plenty of opportunity to back away. But instead, he surprised me and let me give him a little peck on the lips.



I poured myself a glass of supermarket red and delved into my bag for my 7 inch tablet computer. “No more than two lagers before I get out of the bath.”



“Oh Mom! How long you are you going to be?” He could see I had my machine in hand.



“No more than two in half an hour. If Mommy’s any longer, you can have one more.”



“Okay,” he moaned. “I just need a quick pee, though.”



A few minutes later, I closed the bathroom door behind me, but didn’t lock it. I never did. No one ever came in, but it was the thrill of the possibility that someone could that gave me a sense of guilty pleasure. Besides, it was my intention to give myself a good seeing to.



As the water started to fill, I stood naked in front of the mirror. I had a sip of wine and placed the glass down. Then slapped my ass.



“Mom? Mom? Are you alright in there?”



Shit. He heard that? “I’m fine Babes,” I called through the door. “I just dropped something, that’s all.”



“Okay. As long as you’re alright.”



“I’m fine my love. Thank you.”



I lifted my right leg clean up onto the waist height counter to the right of the sink. Threading my hand behind my back and between my legs, I found my pussy and ran my fingers through my pubic hair, finding my soft, puffy lips beneath. I shoved two fingers up inside and my thumb naturally dug into my clit hood, pushing around to release my little nub from its prison of skin.



With my other hand I caressed my breasts, all the while staring at myself, like some kinky voyeur. I imagined it was a two way mirror with people watching from the other side. I felt the first waves rising within.



I stepped into the bath, carefully placing my glass of wine on the floor alongside then reached for my computer.



I’d married my husband at 17. We eloped, north of the border, Scotland and Gretna Green. George was a student in his final year of university at the time and my parents were not thrilled when they found out. They threatened to disown me, but even back then, it didn’t concern me. I wanted to be owned and I was owned, by George. His was the only opinion that mattered. I would have done anything for him. I guess in some ways, I did, I ran away with him. He was my man, my loving man.



George rapidly rose through the ranks in his company and began spending more and more time at work and away from me. It didn’t bother me much, because we had our little one and I was a full time Mommy. My little bundle of joy.



Aside from our child and George spending so much time at work, I was blissfully happy and wanted and needed for nothing. Sexually.



I guess I just wasn’t awake back then, when I was younger. Sex was always nice, but George was neither adventurous nor demanding. I wasn’t bothered. The highlight of my day was my son and his well being. One or two nights a week, George and I would make love.



He was a very considerate lover and I did enjoy sex, but, what can I say? It didn’t thrill me. It didn’t excite me. And it didn’t bother me if we didn’t do it for a while. For me, it was all about the love, the closeness, the companionship and the trust, always complete trust between my husband and I.



I knew George loved me. And I adored him. Still do. But as far as having any raw, unadulterated passion seething within my loins, well – I’m afraid I didn’t have any. I liked getting off, I would have orgasms. It’s just that, they weren’t the be all and end all. There was so much more to my life. And I loved my life. Still do.



But something happens to a woman when she approaches 40. She stops worrying too much about trivialities. Firm backside and breasts, washboard stomach, supple thighs. Bah! So what if there’s a little sag, a little cellulite, a slight pooch out front? So what if sometimes my neck and chin are not as sculpted as they once were?



None of that shit matters and a woman of my age finally stops fighting the inevitable and comes to accept her body as beautiful in its own right. So I don’t look like I came out of a glossy magazine. Uh, newsflash – I never did. I guess what I mean to say is, I’m comfortable in who I am. 40 doesn’t scare me. In my youth perhaps, it scared the bejeebers out of me; but in reality, 40 doesn’t phase me in the slightest.



And I think that’s what it took. That and one other little thing.



A year or two ago, a novel came out that sort of took the world by storm. It was an erotic novel, that had somehow managed to make it into the mainstream.



I’ve never read it. But some of my friends have. Opinions vary, most seem to think there are some good bits in it, but that the writing can be a little clunky at times and overall, while not a great read, it was at least a change from the usual suspects.



Like I said, I’ve never read it. But it did get me thinking.



My son had a computer, my husband had one; I however, wasn’t in the least bit interested. But one day I borrowed my sons laptop and asked him to give me a few lessons on using this internet thing. I’m a quick learner and my son is a patient boy. And he’s good to his old Mom.



After a few lessons, finding myself alone in the house, I was able to put it to use for my true intentions. I had been intrigued by this book and by what my good friend Shirley Madison had said to me one day – you can find better stuff on the internet if you know where to look. An innocuous comment perhaps, but one which had stayed with me.



I learned how to Google. I think I must be the second to last person in the world to do that – before some modern day Robinson Crusoe perhaps. It took me a little while to figure out the importance of the right search term, but when I did, typing in something like – erotic stories – I discovered a wealth of sites to explore and see what all this erotic stuff was about.



I must admit, even though I am an avid reader, I had managed to avoid Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Fanny Hill, The Story of O and their ilk. I just didn’t think it was proper or dignified for a lady to be stirred by such filth.



But I was approaching 40 and if I was starting to think ‘oh hell, sod it’ about my body, maybe my standards should fall by the wayside too.



One of my preferred sites to read this ‘literature’ turned out to be called ‘literotica.com’. I perused the various sections, learned how to navigate and began to work my way down the so-called top lists.



Anal. Well I didn’t much care for that. George and I had tried it just the one time and neither of us had particularly enjoyed it. We had a hard time trying to figure out what all the fuss was about.



Next up was BDSM. I’d heard of it but didn’t even know what all the letters stood for. Bondage and sadomasochism I knew, but wasn’t sure of the finer details. So I gave it a miss and moved on down the list.



I liked a bit of romance, a bit of naughtiness perhaps and I found many stories that turned out to be very pleasant reads. Some turned me off instantly, but the great thing about reading these stories on the internet was that if I didn’t like it, I just forgot about it and moved on to the next one – it hadn’t cost me anything. And of course, nobody knew I was reading this kind of stuff.



My son had been very thoughtful and had warned me that my internet history would be recorded – by the stupid browser, he would say – and that when I was done, I should always clear the history and cache files. Not only did he show me how to do these things, but he wrote the instructions down on a piece of paper and sat down with me as I followed them to see that I could do it. I love my son, did I say that already?



One day, I woke up from a dream. My husband had already left for work. My son was back living at home after losing his first job. He was so disappointed. He’d been given a little bit of freedom with one hand and had it taken away with the other. I wanted to pay his rent for him but my husband rightly predicted our son wouldn’t accept such an arrangement.



Anyway, he’d gone out. I had the house to myself and this dream I’d had, no doubt triggered by the heavy reading day I’d had the day before, had turned me on like never before. I was actually wet between my legs. That sort of thing just never happened to me.



I’d been in school. Instead of my usual dream I would have about school – the one where I had exams but hadn’t done any work for them – I had gym. And I was in the showers. Naked naturally. In front of other girls, again naturally. It was something I did many times at school, showered naked.



But this dream had been a little different. I was at an all girls private school. And the girls were coming out of the showers, myself included and instead of an impending exam, we were lining up to get spanked.



I wasn’t just wet, my nipples were so hard and erect I could hang pictures from them.



At breakfast, I reached for my son’s laptop, visited my favourite website and found the search page. ‘Private School’ I typed.



Sure enough, potential stories appeared before me. Indeed, the first was even entitled ‘Private School Ch. 01′ but it was in the BDSM section.



Now like I said, I really didn’t know what it was. I thought it was people dressing up in leather and rubber and using gags and ropes and whips and I struggled to ascertain just where the fun would be in that. It did absolutely nothing for me sexually. But I was missing one vital piece of information, one key ingredient – the psychology of it all. The inner mind. The hidden desires. The submissive. The desire to be humiliated. The craving to be exposed and vulnerable.



I read chapter one of the story about an obnoxious rich girl being taken to a new school where she was bound and gagged, stripped naked in front of her mother with the express intent of humiliating her. My God. My fingers were in my pussy without my knowledge. My toast was on the table with barely a bite taken out of it and I was sat at the breakfast bar with my legs apart fingering myself.



The next three chapters could not come quickly enough. And neither could I. I sat there pulsating on the stool, writhing orgasmically as this rich girl endured a body cavity search followed by a degrading photoshoot. Then when her counsellor explained the photos were going to end up on a website for all to see, I came again and again, several times in close succession, riding on a crest like never before, sweat oozing from every pore on my trembling body.



My God, this person could write stuff to turn me on. I had to take a break. If I kept my fingers in my pussy that morning I would probably have died and my husband or son would have come home to find me lying on the floor in a puddle of my own sex, albeit with a huge smile on my face.



I had to cool off, I had to get out of the house, get some fresh air, go for a drive. I was still so unbelievably horny, despite a plethora of orgasms that morning, more than I’d probably had all year.



Schlank. The author’s name was Schlank. As I pulled over and tilted my head back, closing my eyes, a smile came to my face and I created a verb. The more I thought of how wild and horny I’d been, in a complete frenzy like never before, I decided I had just schlanked myself. Okay, it might not have been pretty, but it summed up how I was feeling and did so better than any other word I could bring to mind.



And for the first time, Schlank, or Diane Schlank, had provided me with the psychological perspective to understand the attraction. She had tapped into the innermost workings of my brain and ignited within me a desire I never knew belonged to me. She woke my pussy up. No, that’s not right. She birthed my pussy. She gave it life where there was none.



I spent my days naked within the walls of my house, reading Schlank’s stories that I prayed she would add to, touching myself, passion burning within me, my loins on fire.



Before, I had never masturbated in my life to a written story. I knew my son had jerked off his teenage penis to porn on television, but that was very much an industry set up in favour of the male fantasy. Truth be told, there wasn’t much in it for me.



I was more likely to indulge in fantasy of the mind picturing hot, muscled delivery men bringing parcels to my door which needed assembly on sultry afternoons. Taking off their shirts to reveal sweaty six packs and gorgeous pecs, slipping off their trousers, my fingers lightly hovering over the growing bulges in their skinny tight briefs, before allowing them to ravage me while my husband was at work and my son was in school.



But that was then, a lifetime ago. Now I found myself masturbating two, three, even four times a day whilst reading literature of the most erotic kind, naughty and dangerous and oh so devilish. I’d found the spark that was missing. So as the beginning of my fourth decade galloped toward me, like many women before, I endured a sexual awakening, my libido going into overdrive.



I couldn’t get enough to quench my insatiable appetite for this most intoxicating of fantasies. I read other stories by other authors in the BDSM category such as ‘The Vassal Academy’ by ‘SavannahMann’ and quickly became enthralled with the notion of being a slave, subservient to a master, to serve him with every fibre of my being, to exist solely for his pleasure. My pussy was his pussy, my orgasm belonged to him, he had power over me to command his every will.



Now I was never one to flaunt my body. Sure, I got naked when I had to. I was never a prude. I didn’t especially enjoy trips to the doctor, especially those that required I get naked and spread my legs for the camera, so to speak; I’d had a few of those in my life. I just didn’t believe it was ladylike to be running around naked at every opportunity. I had friends who enjoyed going to the gym or the spa and I could guess what would happen afterwards and it was never my thing.



I guess I felt that my body was my husband’s to ogle and not anyone else’s. So I never indulged in that sort of life. But all of a sudden I had this overwhelming hunger to show off my body, be vulnerable, so I started driving to towns perhaps fifty miles away and going to the gym, going to the swimming pool, so I could shed all my clothes, expose myself, shower naked amongst other naked women.



Some days I would drive from gym to gym, perhaps taking in two or three to feed my hunger. Oh God, if only I was a lesbian like the heroine of the Schlank stories, I’d be in heaven. But I wasn’t. And I wanted to feel the eyes of men upon my naked body as well as those of other women. I wanted everyone to look at me. See me vulnerable. See me exposed. And humiliated.



The wine in my glass was finished and so too was I. I’d done my best to keep quiet whilst I read some of my favourite bookmarked stories, many of which I had read more than a hundred times. My son was in the next room and he’d already been able to hear me spank myself even if he didn’t know what it was. Besides which, the water was much colder and if I stayed in here much longer, my baby boy would be plastered, pissed out of his skull before we even got to the dining room.







Chapter 03



My Mom was so beautiful.



Sat across the dining room table from me, cutting her bread roll with a knife, I couldn’t help but stare at her. Two times today I had pictured her while I masturbated. Once at the supermarket, once on my knees behind the bathroom door as she took a bath. It was lucky I remembered to nip into the bathroom to get some TP.



She smiled at me. I smiled back. She probably thought I was drunk. She would be half right. I wasn’t drunk on alcohol, I was drunk on love. I’d fallen in love with my Mom. And it had all happened today. And it had all taken me completely by surprise. It was like falling in love at first sight.



But how do you fall in love at first sight with someone you’ve known all your life? And how do you fall in love with your own mother?



I knew nothing could come of it, I mean, what was I going to do? Say, hey Mom, wanna go on a date, just you and me? I could take you out for a meal. Maybe afterwards we could have a drink or two. I could take you up to my room and – maybe we could sleep together. What do you think Mom? Do you fancy that?



I laughed to myself.



But I had it bad. I’d fallen for my mother as hard and fast as I’d ever fallen for any girl in my life before. And my Mom was gorgeous. I know she didn’t think so, she was so modest, but my Mom was a real knockout. And as I sat across from her at this table, I wanted nothing more than to profess my love for her and have her hold me in her safe arms, kiss my lips, just as she had done before she went into the bathroom. And I wanted her to let me know she’d be mine. Like that song in her car, ‘My mother is mine’.



Oh, what was I thinking? This was the one love that could never ever be. Never mind anything else, it was illegal anyway. We could get locked up for that sort of thing. Spend our lives in jail. I could never take the separation. I could never live my life without my mother in it. I wouldn’t want to go on without her love.



Our main courses arrived.



“Mmm,” Mom said. “That looks nice.”



I was having the lasagne. Mom had gone for the pork dinner, with gravy and potatoes.



“Do you want some Mom?”



“No sweetheart. You enjoy it.”



“It’s alright Mom, have a bite. I want you to.”



“Are you sure Babes?”



“Positive.”

Mom reached across with her fork and had the first bite. “Mmm. Scrumptious. You’ll lurrrve that!”



I tried it. She was right. It was delicious.



All through dinner my thoughts were of one thing. Forbidden love. As she sat there, looking and smelling so fresh, I admired her contours. Her boobs were the perfect size and shape, Goldilocks boobs, not too big, not too small. The low neckline of her pale blue summer dress teased her cleavage – just that little vertical bunching together, before the material hid everything else from sight. I couldn’t help thinking of the physical similarities between a woman’s cleavage and a builder’s bum, one so perfect, one so awful and yet, cropped and taken out of context, hard to tell apart.



“What are you going to have for dessert Babes?” she asked, reaching under the table with her foot to rub my leg.



You Mom.



Oh! Shit! Did I say that? I didn’t know. Did I speak that or merely think it? I thought it so loudly, I could almost swear I’d given voice to my thoughts.



“Um. I dunno. What are you having?”



“Hmm? Either the profiteroles or the ice cream sundae. I can’t decide. You know I’m a sucker for whipped cream, but I’m so hot right now, I think I need an ice cream.”



“We’ll order both Mom. We can share. That way you can have both.”



“I thought you’d want the peach crumble.”



“Hmm? Not tonight Mom. I’m feeling hot too.”



Half hour later we had decided to pay our after dinner visit to the bar, but we were just going to order the one round. As Mom had started on the wine and had more waiting for her upstairs, she stuck with it, so I ordered her a Burgundy Pinot Noir – something a little finer than she had in the room. I didn’t get any change from a tenner this time, having to put down another twenty pence for just that and my pint. But my mother was worth it. And after what I had done to her in my mind today, it was a bargain.



We were both a little tipsy stepping into the brightly lit elevator. As the lift began its lethargic ascent to the third floor, Mom looked closely at herself in the mirror, bringing her fingers up to smooth out her crow’s feet.



“I’m sho old,” she slurred.



“You’re not old Mom.”



“I am. And I’m ugly.”



I wasn’t having my mother say such horrible, untrue and undeserved things about herself. If I ever heard anyone else call my mother old or ugly, I’d punch their lights out.



“You’re beautiful Mom. You are so very beautiful.”



She smiled in the mirror at me as I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her from behind. “You really shink sho?”



“I know sho … uh, so!”



I went to peck her cheek and just as I did she turned her face to me and I ended up planting one on the corner of her mouth. She started to snigger helplessly.



“What?” I asked.



The elevator reached our floor and I stood aside for Mom to exit first. As she started to move forward, with a little spring in her step and a girlish swing to her bottom, she held out her hand for mine and led me out.



“You sweet baby boy. Mommy loves you.”



As Mom had her left hand in my right, I walked around to her right tugging her hand behind her back and slipped my left arm up over her shoulder. I tilted my head down to hers and she reciprocated as we walked to our room.



All I could think was how lucky Dad was, having this beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, kind, sweet, endearing, magnificent woman as his wife. I was envious of him. He never seemed to show her much affection and Mom always responded so well to it. She always did. I couldn’t help but wonder if she craved more of it. Well, whether she did or whether she didn’t, she was going to get more of it from me, from now on. Or at least until she told me to stop.



Mom’s TV show was on. I didn’t much care for it. I just put her to lie on the bed while I went to the bathroom. “Need a shit Mom.”



“Another one?” she asked.



“I couldn’t go in the supermarket. It was just a fart remember?”



“Oh, yeah,” she nodded. “Okay. Have fun.”



I didn’t need a shit, I needed a wank. My mother was intoxicating. Her simple presence had increased my libido threefold and I just had to beat another one out before bedtime.



I locked the door and sat on the can, pulling down my trousers. I looked across the floor and saw her bra and panties. I couldn’t resist. I collected her panties and gave them an almighty sniff.



Shit! I nearly choked. The odour was so powerful, so dense, so – primal. That was not a normal smell. If that was normal, she’d have men falling at her feet wherever she went. That was intense. That was beyond words. That was – that was the scent of my Mom’s sex.



I beat off furiously on the toilet seat, my balls slapping between my legs. I continuously sniffed her panties and pictured my Mom’s face at dinner. I didn’t even need to imagine her naked, it really did not get that far. I didn’t need to picture my Mom’s body, I just needed to picture my Mom.



I lasted a little bit longer than my two record breakers earlier in the day. I’d come in less than a minute first time and lasted about three when Mom was in the bath. It took about five to ejaculate my load, which, for a third round of self abuse, was simply unheard of.



I couldn’t help myself. My dirty little mind got the better of me. Even though I had dropped my wad in the toilet beneath me, I was still milking white stuff from my bell end. I dabbed it with my finger and pressed it to the crotch of Mom’s panties, rubbing it in. That gave me such a thrill, but nothing like the thrill it gave me to actually place her panties on top of my penis to physically contact her moist patch.



I sat back on the toilet, shattered from chronic masturbation. At the side of the bath I saw Mom’s tablet on the floor. I reached for it and swiped it on. She had a few games that I’d put on there for her, I could play one of those while I pretended to be emptying my bowels.



Oh, bollocks! I pressed the wrong bloody thing by accident and now her internet browser was starting up. Come on, you stupid thing, back, back. There was a bit of lag on it. It returned to the screen I wanted but not before I became aware of the word cunt on the previous screen. Funny how things like that catch your eye.



I pressed for the browser to load again. I did see cunt. There was a story on the page. There it was again. Two cunts. Three cunts! Shit Mom! What are you reading? This was porn. My Mom was reading porn in the bath, I thought.



My eyes became transfixed by the story. It was filth. A woman being tortured and made to parade around naked, seemingly against her will. She was a slave and had her hands tied behind her back and affixed to a collar she had been made to wear. Hmm? Kinky!



I scrolled to the top of the page to see what the website was called. Literotica. Shit. My Mom was a perve. And for some reason that notion thrilled me. Because I was one too. I had just jerked off with my Mom’s knickers to my face and had touched the glistening end of my tip to her crotch.



I looked at her search history. Literotica, Literotica, Literotica. All the way down, it just kept going and going, each page she had visited had a different title, but from what I could tell, my sweet darling mother was into bondage. Well that was a turn up for the books.



I lost track of time and next thing I knew, Mom was knocking on the bathroom door.



“You alright in there Babesh? You haven’t fallen in, have you?”



“Just wiping Mom. I’ll be out in a jiffy.”



When I stepped into the room, I immediately felt it cooler. I guess there was a fair bit of heat in that small windowless bathroom, some of which was probably my doing.



Mom was already in bed, changed into her nightie and sat up, watching the TV. She tapped the bed alongside her and peeled back the corner of the sheet. “It’s gone ten Babesh. Time for bed.”



I grabbed my PJs and slipped back into the bathroom to change. I came back into the room and grabbed a pillow from the bed and turned around to go get a blanket.



“Hey! You’re not shleeping on the floor. I meant what I shaid. Into bed now.”



I placed the pillow back down and sat on the bed.



“I don’t bite.”



Maybe she didn’t, but I couldn’t guarantee the same for myself. If I were to roll over in the night and somehow end up with my head on her breast, she wasn’t going to be able to prize me away for all the tea in China.



I lay there awkwardly still next to my Mom. The lights were out and I could tell from her breathing she was awake. Next thing I knew, her hand was feeling for mine under the covers.



“This is nishe,” she said, before rolling onto her side to face me and put her hand on my chest in a mirror image version of this morning. But this time, her leg stayed put.



It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep; every so often I would hear a little piglet snore and then she’d lick her lips and just go back to quiet breathing. I lay there awake for the longest time, my penis had received more blood from my brain today than it’d had in a long time.



I just couldn’t seem to fall asleep, so many thoughts were floating around my head. Not only had I caught glimpses of my Mom’s pussy, her bottom, the outline of her nipples and been the recipient of a couple of kisses on the lips from my Mom in the last twenty-four hours, but I had also discovered my Mom liked to read erotic stories about bondage. Oh – and I’d fallen in love with her too. And now I was in bed with her sleeping next to me and my boner was climbing halfway to the stars. Hardly a normal day.



I think I saw daylight before I did finally fall asleep and I slept solid for a few hours before waking abruptly. I couldn’t remember what had woken me, but the first thought that entered my mind was that I was in bed next to Mom.



I opened my eyes to see that she was facing away from me, lying on her stomach with her left arm under her head, her long, wavy brown hair pulled my gaze over her back and shoulders, down her green nightgown, which I soon realised had ridden up on her body during the night. Not only that, but she had kicked the covers almost entirely off her body and they were now at her feet. The most startling thing however, was that her ass was bare and exposed in its entirety for me to view.



I sat up and leaned on my left elbow. Mom was still asleep. I think. I was almost certain of it. Without any authorisation from me, my right hand had gone slightly AWOL and was hovering just barely an inch above Mom’s bare behind.



My brain yelled orders at my hand to retreat, but my hand took no notice. It just sat there, floating, as if on a cushion of air. In a world of its own.



Just then, Mom moved, her ass lifting off the bed momentarily, just skimming my hand. I was sure I was done for. If she was just now this moment waking, she surely felt my hand on her ass as surely as I felt her sweet ass on my hand. I was done for and ready to apologise or make up some lie when all of a sudden, Mom rolled onto her left side, still facing away from me.



A moment later, she completed her roll onto her back and that section of her body that had been uncovered on her rear was now uncovered on her front. Her pubes. All of them. Not just a dark brief flash between her legs, but full 1080P HD Technicolour Dolby surround sound pubes. IMAX pubes. In 3D – glasses free. Layer upon blessed layer of them.



My eyes wouldn’t pull away from them. I tried turning my head, but my eyes stayed pointed at Mom’s thatch. I think if I could have made my head spin through 180 degrees, my eyes would be facing backwards.



Somehow, don’t ask me how, I managed to glance at Mom’s face. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was peaceful. Was she still asleep? God, I hope she was. She was magnificent. Simply without peer.



I lay my head back down on the pillow and closed my eyes slightly so I could watch Mom and pretend to be asleep should she wake and feel the cool air on her snatch.



But Mom just lay there, without expression, just breathing. I raised my head to look at it again, take a mental photograph of this delight on show. If only I could have a real photo, or better, a video.



Why couldn’t I? The camcorder was on the bureau; we’d used it in St. Ives. I looked over my shoulder and saw it, clear as day. Could I get out of bed without disturbing her? Reach for it, bring it across, get back into bed, switch it on and actually start to film her? No. She’d be too near waking.



My heart raced. I had this once in a lifetime opportunity, handed to me on a silver platter. If I didn’t at least try, I’d never forgive myself. Unless it was a dream. That’s what it was. Damn. It just had to be. I was fast asleep dreaming I’d woken to find the goddess Venus herself in the bed beside me.



Or was I? If it was a dream, I could reach for the camcorder and at least try. It wouldn’t matter if I got caught in a dream, none of it would be real. But if it wasn’t a dream, this was my golden opportunity. And I just couldn’t pass that up.



Working with borrowed finesse, I crept back into bed. Mom’s eyes remained closed, her breathing uniform. Lens cap off. Power on. Record. Zoom.



I was not a religious man. But if I got away with this, I was going to get down on my hands and knees and thank someone. Thank something. I let the camera pan up and down Mom’s body as I looked in the swivel viewfinder screen at what I was filming. Up and down, in and out. I covered every conceivable shot, before panning out to get a full body shot. Mom. Her green nightie wrapped around her perfect breasts, outlines of her nipples against the soft satin material. Her bare midriff. Sasquatch. Her supple thighs and legs that went all the way down. Beauty personified.







Chapter 04



My son and I had been back home for a couple of weeks. That trip to Cornwall seemed to do him some real good. He was back to his old self. Actually, the way he was behaving around the house, he was back to his old teenage self. He was full of beans and a joy to be around. He was laughing and playing and going out with his father down the pub twice a week. The two of them were having a grand old time.



He’d heard back from two universities, each inviting him for interview, but not for another month yet. George’s next business trip was ten days away and my son and I were going to head north this time. A cabin cruiser on the Caledonian Canal. Loch Ness. Nessie! It was a midweek break, Monday to Friday and we were actually going to be away from home one night longer than my husband.



My son had been so attentive to me the last few weeks. He was like a transformed man and it made my heart sing that he was enjoying life again. And in some small part, I hoped that I had helped him regain some of that which he had lost.



I knew he had filmed me.



I woke that second morning in Penzance when I felt his weight get up off the bed, then creep silently across the floor. With his back turned, I could feel the air on my crotch and looked down and reached to cover myself up. But then I thought that would only embarrass my son if I did. He’d know that I knew that he had seen me.



I saw him pick up the camcorder and so I lay my head back on the pillow and shut my eyes and tried desperately to control my breathing. I felt him clamber back into bed and pop the lens cap. I even heard the faint whirr of the hard drive spring into action. My son was filming me. And I was displaying my womanhood to him.



And it was my every dream come true.



I had never fantasized about my son. I didn’t think of him that way, he was my son, the love of my life, my pride and joy, I would die for him in an instant, I wouldn’t hesitate. That’s what mothers do. They protect their sons.



But I was also a sexually frustrated woman on the brink, who had become prone to fantasizing about being on display, being naked on display, exposed. And knowing that my son’s eyes were upon me was the most sexually stimulating thing that had ever happened to me in my life. I just hoped I wasn’t doing him any mental damage as I used him to propel my turgid fantasies.



There was a film he wanted to see, so I had given him some money to go to the cinema and grab a bite to eat at some fast food place of his choosing beforehand and a little bit more so he could stop off for a pint on the way home. I thought I’d give him a nice day out, my treat. I also needed him out of the house because I wanted to watch that video of me again.



He’d been keeping the camcorder in his room, permanently plugged into his television via some cables, the charger at the ready on his desk. I’d first watched it three days after getting home. I was shocked by what I saw, but also incredibly turned on. Yes, my son had violated my privacy for his own carnal needs. But what were those needs? Was he in love with me? Or was he just like every other young man and just infatuated with the naked female form.



But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t be mad at him for that, because inadvertently or otherwise, he had stumbled into my deepest need, that to be exposed and vulnerable.



That first time I watched it, I trembled and fell to my knees as my legs just would not sustain me. Afterwards, I felt sick to my stomach. I thought I was a bad mother, leading my son on, allowing him a glimpse of something that could never be, that was forbidden, taboo. I was sure I was going to burn in hell for my sins. I’d corrupted my son.



That night in bed, as I lay next to George, I initiated sex. I never did that. Not only did I initiate it, but I led. I sucked my husband’s cock, I rode him like a cowboy. I had a screaming orgasm and he had to cover my mouth with his hand to subdue me. By the time my husband spilled his seed inside me, I’d come three times.



The second time I watched the video, I sat at my son’s desk chair and masturbated, right there in his room.



By the third time I did it, I had ungodly wanton desires to do it again. Expose myself and have someone I knew, see me.



But today, my son was enjoying himself at the movies. I went into his room. I switched on the camcorder and began scrolling down the file menu and discovered my son had renamed the titles. Gone were the date entries, in their place, he had given the files names. ‘St. Ives 1′ and ‘St. Ives 2′. ‘Hotel Room’. ‘Sleeping Beauty’.



Oh, bless him. I played Sleeping Beauty and it was me, naked on my son’s TV. Well, pubes out naked anyway.



That was it. That was all the incentive I needed. I was going to make a video of my own and I was going to film it in my son’s room.



I opened the doors to our walk in closet and found an old blouse that I used for painting. With scissors in hand, I cut under the collar, removing it from the shirt, tossing the blouse back in a drawer. I then proceeded to strip off naked, all the while watching my reflection in the dressing room mirror. I took the collar from the old white shirt and fastened it around my neck. I looked like a Playboy bunny I thought, minus the dickie bow and ears!



But that was my slave collar. I’d never built up the nerve to visit a sex shop, even though I knew the location of one in town and had tried on more than one occasion to venture in, but I’d always become nervous at the prospect someone might see me going inside. Ironic, I know, seeing as that was my fantasy.



But fantasy was fine, reality made me nervous. Reality had consequences attached. There was just that one day when fantasy and reality collided and my son filmed his mother naked on the bed while he thought she was sound asleep – the most thrilling day of my life and it had somehow involved my beautiful baby boy.



I set up the camcorder to point into my son’s room. Then pressed record. I walked away from the camera, giving it a tasty view of my big, ugly ass. Then I turned to face it, hesitant at first, but then I felt the thrill build inside me. I knelt. Slaves had to kneel. I pretended the camera was my master and bowed my head before my master.

I had purposely placed the camcorder in front of the TV so I could watch myself on screen as it recorded. I had to turn the volume right down as it interfered with the TV speakers.



I raised my head and looked right at the 40 inch screen behind. It was me. I was naked, apart from my slave collar.



“Please may I touch myself Master?”



“No, you may not,” I replied in a deeper tone.



“Oh please Master, I beg of you. I’m so horny.”



“I said no, slave.”



“But Master, please, I need this so badly.”



“You dare to argue with me slave? Punishment time. Twenty lashes to your ass.”



I smiled and raised my hand above my backside before swatting it. With my other hand, I hit the other cheek, going one for one, ten on each cheek.



“Thank you Master for punishing me,” I said, utilising my meekest, most timid, voice.



I continued to play around, shuffling around my son’s room on my knees, turning every part of my body to face the camera, bending over and raising my ass whilst spreading my legs to make sure it filmed my puffy lips, even laying down on my back and spreading my legs to open my vagina and afford the little Panasonic a view inside.



“I did not give you permission to masturbate, slave. Punishment. Ten lashes to your vulva.”



“Oh Master, please no. Not that. It hurts. Please, I beg of you Master.”



“Keep begging and it will be twenty lashes to your vulva, slave.”



“Yes Master. I’m sorry Master. Please forgive me Master.”



I knelt and spread my knees. As I raised my hand between my legs, I cringed before swinging my palm to slap my vulva. I shrieked in pain.



“One.”



I did it again. Two. Again, three. Tears were rolling down my face. It hurt so much. By the time I reached ten, my clitoris was humming. I just had to rub it.



“Please Master, I have to come.”



“You may not come slave, not until you have pinched your nipples ten times and slapped your breasts ten times.”



“Yes Master. May I please come then Master?”



“Yes slave, you may come then.”



I began to administer my punishments. Pinching my nipples and slapping my breasts. I barely even touched my clit with my finger when I came. It was beautiful and magnificent. A joy to behold.



When I’d finished acting out my little fantasy, I got up to press stop on the camcorder. I viewed the video immediately on my son’s television, fingering myself as I did, coming once again as I watched my subservience to a make believe master.



I got the low battery warning. Damn. I needed to transfer the file and delete it from the camcorder. The camcorder shut off and the TV screen turned blue.



I put it on to recharge and walked back to my bedroom to shower and clean myself up. My son wouldn’t be home for hours yet, I was under no pressure.



As I was showering I thought I heard the telephone ring, but switching off the water, I could hear nothing. I towel dried my body and ran the blow dryer through my hair, then dressed in the clothes I had worn earlier, placing my new slave collar in the back of my panty drawer.



I checked on the progress of the camcorder. It was charging just fine, but I thought I’d give it a bit longer so it would be at roughly the level it was at when I began using it, so my son would be none the wiser. I didn’t want him seeing this video, perish the thought. No one could see this video, not even my husband.



I went down stairs and saw that the answer machine was flashing. I played the message. It was George.



“Sweetie, I know it’s short notice my love, but you’d really be a godsend if you could put together a meal tonight. It’s this new client. His dinner plans fell through and I sort of … invited him for a home cooked meal. What do you think sweetie? Just him and his wife, you and me. Doable? Call me.”



My husband explained everything on the phone. It was important. He’d lose face and maybe upset the client if he couldn’t come through as promised. The pantry was almost bare, I was planning on going shopping with my son the next day. We had two frozen pizzas for tonight and I could hardly serve those to a client. There was nothing for it. I had to get in the car and go shopping.



Leaving the store, I suddenly remembered the camcorder, charging away merrily in my son’s room. And the very moment I thought of him, I could see him, walking up the road. Oh my God, what was I going to do?



I had to drive on past, hoping he wouldn’t see me. If I could get home before him, I’d have ten minutes to transfer the file to my son’s computer, copy it onto the memory card I kept in my tablet computer, delete it from the laptop and delete it from the camcorder, plug it back into his television and run downstairs and pretend nothing was out of the ordinary.



I may even have to just delete it from the camcorder if worst comes to the worst and forget about it. Have another go at filming something in a few days perhaps.



I could see my son up ahead of me. The one good thing in all of this was that we were both heading in the same direction and so he had his back to me.



As I got nearer to him, I thought, yes, I’m going to get away with this. Then no, the lights changed to red and I had to stop at the intersection. My son was maybe five feet in front of me. Oh no, he’s turning to check to see if it’s safe to cross. Why oh why oh why did I teach him the Green Cross Code? Too late. He’d seen me. The smile just jumped onto his face. He was delighted to see me. He opened the passenger door and hopped in.



“What you doing Mom? You didn’t have to come pick me up.”



I thought fast. “Your father called. A client is coming over tonight, so you’re going to have to help me. All hands on deck.”



“Sure Mom, what can I do?”



“Well you can carry the shopping in while I go and switch the oven on. Got to get that bird in the oven ASAP. Then it would be really great if you could vacuum right through the downstairs while I prepare the veg.”



“Anything for you Mom, you know that.”



I thought I’d have opportunity to rush upstairs and delete the naughty video and plug the camcorder back into the TV set while my son went back to the car for the rest of the bags, but wouldn’t you just know it, he carried all six of them in in one go, three in each hand. He was behind me at the door when I turned the key.



Plan B. If I gave him lots of things to do, he wouldn’t need to return to his room just yet and I could get up there at earliest convenience to do the deed. What was I thinking? He didn’t know about the video. He didn’t know his Mom had crawled naked around his bedroom floor in just an old shirt collar, spreading her legs and slapping her ass for the camera. I had to keep cool. The only person who was going to blow this was me – if I didn’t act cool.







Chapter 05



I just had to get back to my room. I wasn’t expecting Mom to come pick me up. It’s always the case, isn’t it? You do something naughty and it’s like the universe is onto you and tries to get you found out.



Why did I have to buy that DVD today? Why not some other day? Today of all days, I go into the one sex shop in town and buy a dirty DVD and there’s my Mom. I’m lucky she didn’t ask what it was. I think I managed to conceal it under my shirt without her seeing.



And why do they have to put tits on DVD covers anyway? Why can’t they be a bit more discreet? Everybody knows what sort of film it is, it’s in a sex shop for goodness sake, they don’t have to shove it in your face as well. I just had to find a chance when Mom wasn’t looking to go hide it in my room.



She was busy in the kitchen, stuffing a chicken.



“Babes,” she called. “I can’t hear the vacuum.”



“I’ll get right on it Mom.”



It seemed she had a never ending string of chores for me to do. No sooner was one task completed, she had another at the ready. And instead of just leaving me to get on with it, she kept checking up on me, popping her head around the corner. It was as if she knew and was just waiting to catch me red handed.



Finally, I managed to sneak away and make it up to my room. I had the DVD in my hand and just managed to hide it under my clothes in my wardrobe, when I turned to see Mom in my doorway.



“Mom!”



She waved an empty four pint milk carton in front of my face. “I forgot to buy milk. You couldn’t just nip to the local and buy some more, could you Babes?”



“Sure Mom.”



“Thanks.”



She waited for me and we walked down the stairs together and she saw me out the front door. I just knew she was going to look in my wardrobe and find that DVD – and then she’d know everything. I was half expecting to return to the house and have her sat there on the couch with it in her hand, waiting for me to explain myself.



As it happened, she was busy in the kitchen, hard at work on dinner for Dad and this client.



“Can you find something to do with yourself tonight Babes? I’ve popped a pizza in the oven for you. Could you eat it in your room?”



“Uh, I guess.”



She smiled and ran her fingers down my cheek.



“I’m not banning you from coming down or anything, just …”



“I know Mom. I can make myself scarce.”



I’d just carried my pizza to the top of the stairs when Dad walked in with the client and his wife. He was some old geezer, much older than Dad, but the bird was about my age. Kinky old so and so, I thought. Must be rich. Sure enough, I looked out my window and saw a bright red Ferrari parked in our driveway behind Dad’s navy Beemer.



I had plenty of ways to entertain myself, but for some reason, I found myself on that website again. I’d read a couple of stories on my own computer since we returned from our holiday, mostly of the kind Mom was interested in. I’d looked on her tablet and made a note of some of the stories she had bookmarked. They were kinky to say the least and had turned me on sufficiently to give me an ever present boner and a permanent wet patch in my pants.



But browsing around on the site, I had been unable to keep my eyes from exploring the incest/taboo section. Now that was more to my liking. Just a few short weeks ago, I would have had the same reaction as almost anyone else on the street regarding incest. I would have thought of sick old men who raped their teenage daughters for some sick thrill and been utterly repulsed by it. And truthfully, it was just that kind of scenario I was expecting to find.



I was quite surprised then to see that the vast majority of stories seemed to be of the mother/son variety and many of the top stories were quite sensitively written. They actually had plots and some even had reasonably believable scenarios that – that a man in my predicament could fantasize about having with my own mother.



I quickly developed a few favourite authors – ‘alwayswantedto’ was an instant favourite, prolific too. Holy shit, this guy was more or less writing the manual for sons who wanted to seduce their mothers. I must have read a dozen or more of his stories, ‘Piano Mom’, ‘It all started in an elevator’, ‘The Platform’ – there was so much variety. It wasn’t all about getting to some lurid action, he made me care about his characters first and actually see them and come to know them.



And that was a common element in some of the better stories – they made me care. I looked at other authors and other relationships, the exquisite brother/sister incest stories of ‘PacoFear’ – ‘Words on Skin’ and ‘Stolen Kisses’; the incredible ‘Aunt Jean’ by ‘A_Satori’ about a boy and his disfigured aunt; the beautifully romantic cousins ‘Brenda & Ian’ by ‘Tony155′. These guys could write. Fuck Stephen King and Truman Capote and that bloke who wrote the Da Vinci Code – these writers actually made me want to read.



But I didn’t forget Mom in all of this either. I continued to read the stories she had bookmarked and I think I learned a lot about the inner workings of her mind. If I was going to attempt to go down this road with my mother, there was no way on Earth I wanted to hurt her, so I read all I could find on D/s – Dominant/submissive relations.



I learned protocols, responsibilities and the like. Better to be prepared and not use that knowledge than to find myself in a situation beyond my control.



Sooner or later, I was just going to have to make my move. And so, with Dad in work and Mom on her feet in front of me as I sat in the living room with my feet up, lazily watching the television, I spoke.



“Fetch me a glass of water.”



“Please.”



“Please Mom.”



A few moments later, Mom came back in with a glass. Handing it to me, I drank it down in one and held out the glass. “Fetch me another.”



“Hey. Have you forgotten your manners today?” she yelled, placing her hands on her hips to stare me down. “No, I won’t. Not until you ask me nicely.”



A few minutes went by while I drummed up the courage to do what I had to do, for both of us. “Fetch me another … or …”



“Or what Sonny Jim?”



Now was my opportunity. I had to act. Scowling at her I said, “Or I may have to spank you,” emphasising the spank.



My Mom turned pale with dread. I watched on helplessly as shock and fear washed over her entire body. “You watched it? You watched the video?”



I knew she knew. I was sure of it. That day in my bedroom. She was standing in the doorway as I tried to hide it in the wardrobe.



“I did,” I replied.



She burst into tears. “I’m so disappointed in you. I can’t believe you could do such a thing.”



She ran up the stairs sobbing and slammed her bedroom door so hard, the whole house seemed to shake.



I’d done it now. I ran up after her, tapped gently on her door and let myself in. She was on the bed with tears flowing more freely than ever before. She turned away when she saw me. I sat cautiously on the bed, placing my arm on her shoulder; she immediately wiggled free.



I lay down and snuggled up behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist. She again shook herself free of me.



“Go away,” she said in a tone, heavy with disappointment.



“No.”



“Just go away.”



“Mom, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you.”



“You invaded my privacy. How can I ever look at you again? I’ll never be able to get over you seeing me that way. It was bad enough you saw me naked in Penzance …”



Shit. She knew about that? Oh my God. I didn’t know that.



“But to see me … doing … what I did in your room. It’s humiliating.”



“Mom, what did you do in my room?”



“You know very well what I did. You watched the video.”



“Mom, what … what are you talking about? I watched the video I bought the day you picked me up from town. The one you caught me hiding in my room.”



“What?” She lightened up her voice and looked over her shoulder with puppy dog eyes that looked so desperate. Her sobbing subsided a little.



“The video Mom. The DVD. ‘Naughty Girls Need Spanking’. I watched it. I thought you’d caught me hiding it and found it and watched it yourself. I thought you knew my secret like I knew yours.”



She began sobbing again. “See, you did watch it.”



“Mom, watch what?”



“Don’t mess with me Babes. You said you knew my secret.”



“Mom, it’s not that bad. I read that stuff too. I wanted to be close to you, understand you. So I read it. And I found I liked it too. I read all the stories you like.”



“Stories?” Mom sniffled.



“I saw them on your tablet Mom.”



Her sobbing began again in earnest. “You looked on my tablet?”



“Mom, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I like … I like the …”



“You like the what?”



“Mom, don’t make me say it.”



“Say what?” Her expression was so vulnerable.



“I like the incest stories Mom.” I hung my head in shame. “You like the BDSM, I like the incest. So what? We’re both perves. Like mother, like son.”



“You mean the website?”



I nodded.



“You don’t mean the video I made?”



“Mom, what video did you make?”



Even though her face was wet with tears and her eyes were puffy, they were also filled with love all of a sudden. She turned over towards me and placed her head on my shoulder and her hand on my chest.



“Mom, what video did you make?”



She spluttered a laugh and hugged me tighter. But did not answer my question. We hugged like that for about ten minutes before Mom went to wash her face and dab some cold water on her eyes. I waited on her bed for her and took her hand as we went downstairs.



“I just thought we could have a little fun Mom, just you and me, when no one else is around. I might not be able to treat you to a week in ‘Sessia’, but I could order you around like a slave, punish you when you misbehaved, give you a quick spank or two when you disobeyed me. I thought … I thought you’d like it.”







Chapter 06



Far from being mortified by my son’s announcement, I was actually a combination of relieved – that he hadn’t seen my slave shame – and turned on. I read erotic literature and I loved it. My son had found out my secret. And it invigorated me. It put butterflies in my stomach and a tingle in my knickers.



The only issue I had, was that this was my son. I was supposed to care for and protect my son at any cost. Who was going to protect him from me? I know it was hardly contributing to the delinquency of a minor – was that even a crime or just something we’d become accustomed to hearing on American TV shows? Regardless, my son was twenty and I wasn’t steering him into a life of crime. But that’s how I felt. I did believe that I was lacking in moral turpitude by allowing him to skirt the outer depravities of my inner mind.



When I came downstairs to an empty house and saw the bouquet of flowers on the breakfast bar, my mind danced through an array of emotions. Who were they from? What were they for?



There was a note and a packaged gift. The note merely said ‘sorry’ on the outside and ‘I love you’ on the inside. I knew the moment I picked the package up who it was from. The wrapping paper had snowmen and Christmas trees on it and we were about as far from Christmas as it got. My son had obviously been up the attic. I ripped it open and I didn’t know quite what I was feeling or experiencing. Shock? Joy? Naughtiness? Wanton desire? Maybe all of them. ‘Naughty Girls Need Spanking’. My son’s DVD.



I sat for the longest time just staring at the video. Picking it up. Putting it back down. Gazing at the flowers. Thinking of my son’s thoughtful gesture and adoring him for it. He’d upset me and this was his way of apologising. I clutched the note in my hand and stared at the I love you written inside. I felt so flushed. My hands came up the side of my body and swept past my breasts, up my neck and cheeks, through my hair and I let out a deep breath as I stretched my arms behind me. Could I do this? Let my son into my inner world? Did I have any choice in the matter? He was halfway in already.



He wasn’t around; I didn’t know where he was or when he’d be back. George was in work for the day. We just had the weekend together before my son and I headed north to Scotland. Could I watch this thing? I wanted to. I read the description several times over. 88 minutes running time.



I cleared away my breakfast dishes and took the DVD box in my hand. There were only two DVD players in the house – one in my son’s room and one in the living room. I walked over to the living room TV and opened the box. A note fell out.



Mom. It’s a nice day so I thought I’d go for a bicycle ride. I won’t be back until one o’clock. I promise. I love you.



I went and checked the whole house, looking in closets and under beds, before checking for a second time that all the doors were locked. I drew the curtains in the living room and inserted the disk.



It took all of five minutes for me to be lying spread-eagled on the floor with my robe undone and my buttons open, one hand pleasuring my nipples, the other inside my pyjama bottoms exploring my folds. I was well on the way to my first orgasm when I thought of my slave collar. I paused the DVD and headed up to my room, taking off my pyjama’s, fastening my slave collar around my neck and putting my robe back on to come downstairs. I again checked the doors and peered out behind the cutains.

A minute later I was kneeling on the floor, robe discarded, DVD unpaused. My fingers were back in my moist slit and my free hand merrily slapped away at my ass.



I could only watch twenty minutes of the video before I lay trembling on the floor, a shattered wreck. I’d seen a dozen different women nude, tied up, handcuffed, suspended in ropes, whipped, spanked, shaved, collared, leashed, led around by chains that hooked onto their intimate body piercings. I was horny as hell, but totally knackered. My clit was sore, my labia rubbed raw and my backside was on fire. And I’d had a tidal wave of orgasm wash over me.



I’d showered and dressed and got the house spick and span and it was only 11 o’clock. I lasted a full twenty minutes before I texted my son.



When he arrived back thirty minutes later, I was sat on the couch. I tapped the cushion next to me for him to come sit with me.



“The place where you got that Babes … do they sell other things as well?”



“They do.”



“Such as?”



“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve only built up the courage to go in there twice. I often find myself standing outside there looking around to see if anyone I know is watching. And you never know who’ll actually be in there should you venture inside.”



I smiled at him. We weren’t so very much unalike after all, it would seem.



“Would you like to come with me Mom? We could go together, help steady my nerves.”



“I can’t Babes. I’d like to. But I just can’t.”



“What sort of thing would you like Mom? Perhaps I could get it for you.”



Oh my God. Was I blushing? I felt like I was. I fanned myself as I blew into the neck of my polo shirt, shaking it back and forth.



“It’s alright Mom. Relax. I know your secret and I’m okay with it. I love you for it. You can tell me anything. I won’t tell.”



I put my hand on his. “I just don’t know the kind of …”



“They’ve got a website Mom. You could order online. But then it would come to the house and show up on the credit card statement.”



I grasped my son’s hand tightly. I could imagine the look on George’s face as he saw it now. There was just no way on Earth.



“But you could just browse online Mom and then, then … I could go get it for you. And I don’t mind whatever it is Mom, if it’s a big twelve inch black dildo, then, then so be it. I’ll do it for you Mom. I’ll do anything for you, anything you ask.”



I made lunch for us both and while it was cooking we looked at the website together. I felt so kinky sitting next to my son looking at pornographic paraphernalia and items of bondage. But so exquisitely turned on by the thought that these items could soon be mine.



Over dinner we didn’t say much, I think we were both alone with our thoughts. One more quick look at the website, checking for in stock items, I made a small list. Three items. They should come to £45. I went in my purse and handed my son two twenties and two tens and told him he could spend the change on something for himself, but that if he was afraid or uncertain about venturing in, then not to, just come straight home.



It seemed like an eternity waiting for his return. The clock seemed to be going backwards. I was hot, I was cold, I was up, I was down, pacing around the living room and kitchen, checking the driveway, checking my phone in case I’d missed a text, though how I could I don’t know, it was in my hand the whole time.



He finally made his return. He walked sheepishly up to the front door and when I opened it and pulled him inside, he showed me a wicked grin.



“Did you get everything?” I asked, hardly able to contain my excitement.



“Yeah.”



“Let me see.”



“No.”



“What?”



“I’ll show you when we get to Scotland.”



“But …” I protested, eager to see my new wares.



“No buts. You can have them on the boat and not before.” He was so firm, but I was enjoying his dominance, cruel though it seemed.



But then we were in Scotland before we knew it. The weekend flew by, the drive went well. It was a longer drive than the one to Cornwall, but it was every bit as easy. Arriving at the boat yard, I seemed to drift through our orientation completely unawares, my mind was on three things. Three things my son had kept hidden from me in his bag.



We left the jetty and drove up river, pulling over about a mile later.



“Can I see now?” I was almost begging. My son picked up on this and decided a little role play was in order. I was so giddy, I didn’t stop to think what I might be doing to him, letting him boss me around.



He brought the first item out of the bag.



“Try it on for me Mom.”



It was the leather collar. Black, buckled at the back, four metal D rings. As I held it in my hand, I was overcome with eroticism. I just didn’t know if I should. But, this was the feeling I wanted. I knew that, I was sure of that. This is why I read this stuff, this was the kinky shit that turned me on, that electrified my body. But with my son?



Who else could I do it with? Not George. Not Shirley Madison or any of the other girls. Certainly not some stranger. I could do it alone. But where would the fun be in that? It just wouldn’t be the same. I needed a person to be involved in my shame.



I recalled the feeling of my son filming my body as I lay there naked in our bed in Penzance. Compare that to the feeling of me just lying in my bed, alone and naked. They were just two entirely different feelings. One turned me on and one was just completely normal and not in the least bit erotic or kinky. I had to face facts, I only felt a true thrill when I was being watched. Everything else, even masturbating alone to my son’s DVD, was second best. It was all academic anyway, I knew my sexual impulses were already getting the better of me.



I tried to place the collar around my neck but found myself struggling with my hair getting in the way.



“Let me help you with that Mom.”



“Would you please?”



“I will, but …”



“But what?” I asked.



He seemed pensive for a moment, but then spoke. “When you put on my collar, you become my slave. My property. I will be your master when that collar is around your neck. Do you accept my terms? Mom …”



I hadn’t thought of this and I didn’t know how informed he was. He said he’d read my stories, but I didn’t know which ones. But it didn’t matter, my whole body positively tingled at the idea and I found the notion to be highly erotic. I was so desperate for this after a weekend of torturous anticipation and the long drive, I think I would have said yes to just about anything at this moment in time.



“Mom. This is just a trial run. We’ll have to sit down and work out the fine details, but I can see you need this now. We can stop whenever you say, just for today. We can stop and start and stop and start. Just while you get acclimatised. So what do you say? Deal?”



“You’ll stop whenever I say?”



“I give you my word Mom.”



I nodded my consent. I turned away from him and held my hair up while he reached around my neck and fastened the collar at the back.”



“Too tight?” he asked.



I shook my head. “You can go a little tighter.” He followed my instruction. Oh what a thrill. I could only just get a finger between the collar and my skin, it was so deliciously tight.



“Kneel slave.”



“What?”



“That’s what Master?”



“Hey, hey, hang on. Stop.”



“Mom … it’s okay. Come on. Let’s sit down and talk first. You need to be enjoying this. That’s the whole point isn’t it?”



We sat opposite each other at the dinette. I still had on the collar, but he reached out and took my hand.



“How does the collar make you feel Mom?”



“On fire,” I replied.



“With sex?”



“Babes …”



He smiled at me. “We all have those feelings Mom. They’re all perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of. They’re as normal as having an erection in the morning. You told me so yourself Mom, that that was natural. Are you changing your mind?”



I shook my head. “It’s just awkward to talk about that sort of thing with my son.”



He laughed in my face. “When did you become such a prude Mom? I didn’t bring you up to be like that!”



Well, I deserved that one. I’d said much the same thing to him on our last holiday together.



“Come on Mom, let’s play a game together.”



“What sort of game?”



“A game that will be fun. For both of us. A game of trust. One of love. That will be sexy. For both of us.”



“Babes, I, I can’t. I can’t be sexy with you.”



“Are you kidding Mom? You can’t not be sexy. You’re beautiful. It’s actually physically impossible for you to not be sexy. I think you’re sexy, so I guess you’ll just have to learn to accept that.”



Oh, what was he saying? What was my beautiful boy saying to me? He didn’t give me a chance to think.



“And I can see it in your eyes that you want to. You do, don’t you Mom? That feeling inside of you that’s itching to get out. Let it. It’ll be our secret Mom. Can’t you trust me like I trust you?”



“Babes, I do trust you. I trust you with my life, but, this, it’s just not right. It’s not right for a son to see his mother this way.”



“Mom. I’ve done some pretty embarrassing things in my life, some that you know about. And only you know about.”



There had been many, I knew that. I’d caught him masturbating more than once – and neither time had it been dignified. One time I caught him in my shower, a finger up his own butt, the shower head clenched tight between his legs while he stroked his cock vigorously. And then there was the pile of my clothes on the bathroom floor and the smell upon them – his own. He just had to have been wearing them.



Another time I came home early and caught him naked in the back garden, drenched in olive oil, massaging his cock with both hands. As I tried to creep silently away, I knocked over a glass on my way out and startled him. I hurried into the lounge and called up the stairs to him that I was heading out again, trying to pretend I hadn’t seen him. But we both knew.



“Have you ever tried to humiliate me in front of anyone else with that knowledge?”



I shook my head. Of course not.



“Could you ever? Would you ever? You’d take it to the grave and you’d never judge me for it. That’s love Mom, that’s the purest kind and one that will never die. Men and women, they fall in love, they know each others secrets and they trust each other. But they often fall out of love too and use those secrets against each other and the trust is gone. It’s dead. I know in my heart, that you would never hurt me that way, you would die first.”



“I would Babes, I would.”



“I know Mom. I would too. The love you have for me, you know how strong it is. Believe me when I say Mom, that the love I have for you is every bit as strong.”



I felt the tears trickle down my face. And when he reached out to brush them aside, I trapped his hand between my cheek and my shoulder.



“I trust you with everything that I am Mom. And this is me telling you that you can trust me the same. And as far as I’m concerned, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas! I’ll die before I betray your trust Mom. I will die.”



“Don’t say things like that Babes.”



“You need this Mom. I want to give this to you. That’s why I waited. I didn’t just buy you the things on your list. I bought a whole bunch of other stuff too.”



“C’m'ere Babes.”



I held out my arms for him to come and hug me and I kissed him and held him tight. We both had a little cry. We needed some release. “I love you Babes. Mommy loves you. Let’s …” I took a deep breath and gave my son the go ahead when I let it out.



“Slave, kneel.”



I knelt for my son, the collar tight around my neck.



“I have some more things here to punish you. But before I show them to you, I think you are overdressed. A slave must know their place. I shouldn’t really let you have clothes at all, but … for the time being, I’ll allow you to wear them. All except for your underwear. Slave, go to your room and remove your underwear, then come back and kneel when you’re ready.”



Oh God, I wanted this. The threat, the possibility that my son would have me naked. Exposed. Oh fuck. Who am I? Am I his mother? Or am I his slave? With the collar on, I was his slave. If I was just going to keep saying stop all the time, what kind of fantasy was that? I wanted to be commanded. I wanted to be given no choice. I had to steel my nerves and decide to be his slave. For the moment at least.



I went to my room and closed the curtains. There were people walking by on the path alongside the loch. I stripped myself all apart from my collar and socks. Then put my corduroys back on and buttoned my wool shirt. I could feel my boobs swinging freely underneath and the touch of my wet pussy, no longer contained within panties. And it invigorated me so intensely. I felt so alive.



I returned to my son and knelt before him.



“Please will you show me what you bought to punish me Master.”



God, this was kinky. And so exciting. I had visions of us spending the whole week no more than a mile from the boat yard and not looking for Nessie at all.



He pulled out the next thing on my list. It was a paddle. To spank my ass. It had been the cheapest thing I’d asked for.



“We’ll see how you behave slave. But if you’re naughty, you’ll be going over my knee and getting a severe spanking.”



He was good at this. He knew what to say to me and I knew how to respond. But then I guess we’d read the same stories, so we were just working from those scripts at the moment.



“Yes Master. I’ll behave Master. Thank you for getting it for me Master.”



The final thing was causing him some embarrassment. He said he’d get me a twelve inch if I wanted it. I didn’t. I can’t imagine any woman who would. That was just a crazy ridiculous size and I couldn’t think of any orifice I’d want a monster cock like that shoved inside.



My poor baby. His face was bright red. I’d asked for a finger vibrator, for massaging my clitoris. Shirley Madison had done nothing but talk about hers, I’d wanted one for years, but couldn’t bring myself to go into that wretched, wonderful shop.



“Well, you won’t be needing this slave. You haven’t earned it yet.”



“No Master. Whatever you say.”



Next, he brought out an item that wasn’t on my list, but when I saw it I felt such an ungodly thrill. He looked at me before leaning across, taking hold of my collar, then clipped a leash to the D ring at the front. He had me on a leash. My own son. On a fucking leash.



I didn’t know whether I was glad I’d taken my panties off or not. Without them, my brown cords were going to be stained in no time. Already I could feel that slickness between my labia, sliding side to side as he led me around the cabin on my knees. I put my hand between my thighs to feel if my wetness was showing through yet. He saw me.



“No touching slave.”



“I’m sorry Master.”



“You’re orgasm doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to me.”



I thought that was a nice touch. It had been a common element in almost all of the stories I loved. Orgasms belonged to Master.



“Yes Master. Please forgive me Master. I’m new to being a slave.”



“Yes. A slave. You must remember what you are. I think a punishment is in order. You must learn your place.”



“A punishment Master?”



I could see my son was thinking. His eyes were drawn to the paddle on the table and I licked my lips in anticipation. He sat down on the edge of the dinette seat and commanded me to bend over his leg. He hit me with the paddle on my backside and I hardly made a sound. Bless him. He was trying but he was no doubt afraid of hurting me.



The second strike was a little bit harder but not enough to cause me even mild discomfort. On the third strike I sniggered. My poor baby, I thought. My corduroy jeans were quite thick and even though I wasn’t wearing panties, there was enough material there to protect my bum from his half-hearted spanking.



The next thing I knew, he’d put the paddle down and was untucking my shirt from my trousers and manoeuvring them down a little. He picked up the paddle and gave me a short, sharp spank at the top of my backside, on bare skin, but really more on my hips than anything.



“I’m sorry Master. Let me help you.”



I desperately wanted to feel that paddle on my naked ass. I was so used to spanking it with my hand; it was the main reason for requesting the paddle. I unbuttoned my trousers and lowered the zip halfway.



“Try now Master. That should make it easier to pull them down.”



My son dutifully pulled my trousers off my hips and I felt cool cabin air on my bottom. He didn’t expose my whole backside, but enough of an area to administer my punishment.



Again, he was too timid, just giving me light swats more than anything.



“Will it leave a mark Master?”



He paused for thought and before he could answer, I spoke up again. “It needs to leave a mark Master. How else will I learn my lesson?”



He hit me harder. With each swat, I felt such immense sexual pleasure, no doubt in part because of my placement on his lap. While it was true I had started out, spread uniformly across his leg, all the adjustments we had made now caused my vulva to be situated right over his knee and with each spank, it ground further into a more pleasurable position. The stinging sensation on my backside was simply adding to that pleasure and I knew I was only a heartbeat away from ripping my trousers completely off and begging my son to spank my bare ass with his bare hand.



“Stop. Stop. Oh God stop.”



“It’s okay Mom. What is it?”



“I can’t do this. I just, I just, can’t.”



As I tried to get up off the floor and fasten my trousers at the same time, he helped me to my feet and wrapped both his arms around me, pressing his cheek tight to my own.



“I know what the problem is Mom.”



“You do?”



“Of course Mom. It’s pretty obvious really, isn’t it?”



“What?”



“Well, you enjoy this. But not like you enjoy eating a cake or watching a TV show. This, this is sexual. It’s a sexual fantasy, that gets you hot. And you’ve just figured out that, that you can’t do that with your son.”



“I can’t.”



“I know. It’s stupid. Wearing a collar and lead like you’re a poodle or something, it’s ridiculous, to a casual observer, it’s absurd. But psychologically, it turns you on, it excites you between your legs.”



“Babes, please.”



“No Mom. It’s a game. It’s a psychological game, that’s all it is. It’s a switch that gets flipped in your brain and suddenly everything has a different meaning. You need to flip one more switch Mom. You need to flip the one that turns me from being your son into being your master. That collar, that collar is going to act like a switch for both of us. I’m going to stop being your son, you’re going to stop being my mother. Goodbye mother-son, hello slave-master. Just like that. The flip of a switch.”



He sat me down but kept his arm around me. I just didn’t know. I didn’t know if I could, I didn’t know if I should.



“Babes. I don’t know. I just don’t know if I can. The first part, yes, you’re right. It’s sexual. I get a thrill being treated like that. And by you too. That’s all part of the thrill.”



“So then what is it?”



“I’d be hurting you.”



“No, you won’t.”



“Yes, I will.”



“Mom, no. I want this. I’m a big boy.”



“Babes, I’ll be damaging you. Years from now, what do you think our relationship will be if I allow this?”



“Mom. There is no one I love in this world more than you. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Maybe some day I’ll meet a girl, but when I do, I’m not going to suddenly stop loving you or start to love you less. You’re always going to be my Mom. I could never stop loving you, any more than you could stop loving me.”



I looked up at him and kissed him on his cheek.



“This thing Mom, you have to get your pleasure from it. Sexual pleasure. And for today, you can go to your room and …” He trailed off.



“But Mom, I’ve got a bag full of goodies over there that are going to waste. Some of the things in that bag are to punish you, but some are to pleasure you. And as we’ve seen today, your clothes get in the way. If you’re wearing clothes, I’m just not going to be able to give you that thrill you need. So after today, when I put this collar on you, you’re going to have to be naked.”

“Babes …” I laughed, but he was serious.



“Answer me one question Mom and answer it honestly. Does that thought turn you on?”



Oh God. I’m going to burn in hell, I am going to burn in hell, I am so going to burn in hell. I nodded and hung my head in shame.



“Babes, I’ve answered your questions, now answer me a question.”



“What Mom?”



“What do you get out of all this?”



He didn’t have to think at all, not even for a moment. He answered me right away.



“I get to spend quality time with my most favourite person in the whole world. The person I love most. You.”



“Oh Babes. I love you. You know that don’t you? That I love you.”



“I do Mom. Of course I know.”



“Do I say it enough? I’ll say it more.”



“Mom …” he smiled. “You say it plenty.”







Chapter 07



“And besides Mom, it’s not just you that gets off on this shit. I’m as big a perve as you are, remember! And when you go to your room to touch yourself, I’m going to mine and I’m going to touch myself too. So don’t think you’re corrupting me any more than I’m corrupting you. We’re both adults, we’re not children, we don’t need protecting.”



I think I was beginning to get through to her. Even though I could feed her submissive fantasies, my own fantasies lay squarely in the realms of incest. It was my goal to make love to my mother. To be inside my mother, unsheathed and to ejaculate into her and eat my cum as it trickled out.



I decided to up the ante. And in the process, open up a way to allow my mother to be nude in front of me.



“Do you fantasize about being caught naked Mom? Bare, exposed?”



Mom squirmed a little, but her eyes and the corners of her mouth gave my answer.



“Would you like me to catch you naked?”



“No.” She was still resisting.



“Well, you’d better start being careful then Mom. You’d better start locking the bathroom door from now on because you just never know when I might walk in. Catch you on the toilet, catch you in the shower. It can’t be helped if you leave your door unlocked all the time. An accident is bound to happen sooner or later.”



I could see the way my mother was drawing her legs together and holding them tight that the idea thrilled her. She was turned on by it.



“Don’t you dare,” she said, before I startled her by removing my arm from around her shoulder and dropped it to her waist and with the deftest of touches, ran my fingers up the side of her torso, just skimming the side of her breast in the process.



She wriggled away from my hand.



“Don’t you like that Mom? Don’t you like when I touch you?”



“It’s not proper.”



“The things you and me think about are not proper, Mom. But who’s to say what proper is? Society? Society has so many rules that we don’t agree with anyway. Why should we conform to them? Let society conform to our ways for a change. Fuck society Mom.”



I made emphasis of the word fuck, the first time I ever used it in front of my mother. I didn’t use it much anyway, mostly a quiet ‘fuck yes’ while jerking off in my bedroom or bathroom, but rarely in public.



“Fuck society Mom. Behind closed doors, in our own home, we can do what we want. We can do anything, we want.” As I was saying it and Mom was thinking about it, my other hand reached up her front and touched her breast. “Society will never know about that Mom, not unless we tell them.”



Mom stood up and looked directly into my eyes. “I have to go Babes. I’m … I’m all kinds of horny right now. If I don’t, I’m going to explode.”



Frankly, I was about ready to blow myself anyway. I suggested to Mom we do just that, go relieve ourselves and then talk more later on. Baby steps.



My cabin was small, smaller than Mom’s. Mine was at the front of the boat, in the bow. V shaped berths. A small wardrobe and just enough room in the space on the floor for Mom to kneel.



I stood in front of Mom and gave her the command to strip me. She still had clothes on and she was still very nervous, but tentatively she began to undo my jeans and slide them down my legs. Her face was at my waist height and she couldn’t take her eyes away from the heaving bulge in my knickers. It was so strong and so powerful that it pulled the leg elastic away from my crotch and let cold air in the side.



A moment later I commanded her to touch me and she began to massage my cock through my underpants. It felt so good. But Mom was still in her shirt and trousers. That just wouldn’t do, a slave being clothed while her master was bared. I ordered her to stand and strip as I sat there and watched.



I’d seen her pubes before, just recently. They had been the object of many a masturbatory fantasy. They were engraved in my mind, hopefully never to recede. And if they did? Well, I had a video of them to refresh my memory.



Mom’s boobs were perfect in every way and I couldn’t help but take her nipple into my mouth and squeeze her breast.



“I love you slave … I love you … Mom.”



My semen shot up my belly and I looked down at the warm, white puddles and the trail of semen leading to my spent dick. I lay back and felt utter contentment. I just hoped Mom was having fantasies about me in her cabin, like I was about her in mine.



I stepped out of my door, naked. Immediately to my left was the tiny galley, my right, the bathroom. Up a couple of steps was the main saloon and dinette. Beyond that, there were some steps that led up on deck and also a set that led down to Mom’s cabin which had a double berth and its own en suite.



I opened the bathroom door, took a shower and cleaned myself up, wrapping a towel around my waist I poured myself a drink in the galley and went to sit up in the saloon. Mom was still in her bedroom. And the boat was vibrating. Only slightly, barely perceptible, but I could feel it.



I decided Mom needed a little enticement to start playing with me. So I sat in the saloon and waited. And waited. Mom was in her room for a whole hour more and when she came out her hair was slick wet. She’d had to shower too, no doubt to remove her sexual scent.



“Hi Babes.”



“Hi Mom. Did you have a nice shower?”



“I did Babes. Thanks for asking.”



“I was worried about you Mom. I nearly came in your room to see where you were.”



“You did?”



I nodded. “Did you lock your door?”



She bit her lower lip and shook her head.



“You see, you’ve got to be so careful Mom. Who knows what I would have seen if I’d just walked in earlier.”



My Mom was blushing. But I just knew my words were exciting her.



“And about that other thing … you know I’m right, don’t you Mom? A slave has to be naked. And if you want to be my slave, that’s something you’re going to have to accept.”



“Babes, I, I don’t know, I … this is … Babes.”



“It’s not so very hard Mom. It just takes the right mindset, the right commitment.” I stood up and when I did, my towel fell to the floor.



Mom diverted her gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything.”



“It’s okay Mom. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right? Am I right?”



“Last time I saw it, it wasn’t that big.”



I smiled. “Things grow Mom. Something somewhere is always growing.”



I reached down to pick up my towel and wrap it back around my waist. Mom and I both went down into the galley to get something to eat and drink and replenish our energy levels. It was just so tight in that galley, that we couldn’t help brushing up against one another.



On one such pass, I made sure the towel dropped to the floor once more.



“Why you little …”



I laughed.



“Cover yourself up.”



“Why? You’ve had a good look at it now Mom. It doesn’t bother me you seeing me anymore. It’s freeing to lose your inhibitions. You should try it sometime.”



Mom was doing her damnedest to keep looking away, but I caught the little glances out of the corner of her eye to check whether or not I had covered myself up yet.



“It’s not right that a mother sees her son like this.”



“Oh Mom. Mothers see their sons naked all the time. It’s what makes mothers mothers. Or something like that anyway. You know what I mean.”



“Put some clothes on,” she said, covering her eyes, but peeking through her fingers, as she made her way up the steps with her glass and a sandwich.



“Mom, I don’t mind you seeing me like this. I really don’t.”



“Babes, please …”



“I love you Mom. There’s no one I love and trust more in this world than you. If I can’t trust you then, who can I trust?”



Mom kept her eyes covered but peeked to see if I was decent yet.



“You love me more than Dad?”



“Of course I do.”



“Why? He’s your father, he’s good to you.”



“I know he is and I love him. I adore him in fact, he’s the best man I know.”



“Then why?”



I reached down and picked the towel up from the floor, but instead of wrapping it around my waist, I slung it over my shoulder and walked up to my Mom. Taking her hand to remove it from her eyes, I held her face in my fingers and said, “Because I don’t want to do this to Dad.”



I kissed her. But properly. Passionately. And she let me.



She even began to kiss me back and when the kiss ended and I looked at her, she had her eyes shut. As they began to open I kissed her again, opening my mouth to pop my tongue out to lick between her lips.



That was as far as it could go without her approval. I wouldn’t go further if she were not willing. I just hoped she would consent. I probed further, begging almost, at her door. Please Mom, let me in. Just this once. Please. I love you.



And then she did. I felt her tongue on mine and I knew she’d be mine. And the song played in my head. “My mother is mine.”



Mom again waited a moment to open her eyes and when she did, she didn’t look at me, she just said ‘get dressed’ and left me standing there.







Chapter 08



I shut myself in my room again. This just wasn’t fair. The little bugger was making me so fucking horny. His big, fat, flaccid cock. He knew he was teasing me and he knew he was tempting me, tempting me into this – this way of life he seemingly had all planned out.



But how could I indulge? Had I already indulged him too far? I’d just kissed him for goodness sake. And not just a peck either. My son had gone further with me than his own father had in – in six months at least.



I sighed as I sat down on my bed and relived the moment in my mind.



He lifted my chin and with tears in his eyes looked into my very soul. I didn’t notice him leaning into me and I didn’t notice the beginning of our kiss. I didn’t notice when I shut my eyes and I didn’t notice when I opened my mouth to let his tongue slip inside. I didn’t notice any of it.



With my eyes shut and our tongues entwined, my mind just went blank and I enjoyed the moment. And that was the moment, the exact moment, the moment I saw my son had been right – I had stopped thinking.



More importantly, I had stopped thinking of him as my son and was only concerned with the pleasure he was giving me and the love I felt for him. The desire I felt in my heart.



I don’t know how long our kiss lasted, but there were long threads of saliva between our mouths when it ended and as I looked across at his chest, I noticed the fear had gone from my own heart. There was a stillness, a calm, a feeling that, while it wasn’t right, it wasn’t quite as wrong anymore.



I saw the collar lying there on my bed. The leash too. God, I wanted to know what else he had in that bag that he was keeping from me.



For the second time that day, I took off all my clothes and lay on my bed. I reached for the collar and managed to fasten it myself. I then opened my bedside draw and pulled out my tablet computer and just lay there, naked, reading.



I hadn’t read for long. It seemed that my stories just weren’t doing it for me anymore. They had ignited my sex drive and opened me up to new possibilities, but now in my time of need, the fantasies contained within just weren’t powerful enough to compete with my present reality. I was fast becoming the slave I so desperately dreamt of becoming.



Those other characters weren’t the stars anymore, I was. So I found the video I’d filmed that dreaded day, the one with me naked in my little boy’s room, naked as the day I was born with the exception of my makeshift collar, spanking myself and displaying myself to the camera in the most undignified way imaginable. I pressed play and began to finger myself. My door was unlocked and my son was on the other side. Would he go through with his threats? I guessed only time would tell.



I played with my nipples, circling them, pinching them. My breasts were a tidy size and shape and I was able to tease my hardening nipples into my mouth, licking them until they were glossy and moist. My fingers continuing to roll and pinch, squeeze and caress, tickle my breasts as a whole, running in wide circles with a light touch and a brief flick under a single finger as it came in contact with my nipples.



My chest was alive with my touch and everything was just so deliciously sensitive. I think if I had continued, I would actually have been able to bring myself to climax through massaging my breasts alone.



But neglecting my pussy was torturous in a despicably delightful way. Would my son really withhold my orgasms from me? I hoped he would. It would be just like in those stories then. All the slaves had more powerful orgasms because of it. They would be brought to the brink, over and over again, each time denied at the last.



It got them into such a sexual frenzy that by the time their orgasm did finally arrive, they would pass out from sensory overload. I wanted to experience that. I did. I so desperately did. And there was just no way that that was ever going to happen with George. My son was my only hope.



I replayed the video one more time, then set it back in my drawer. I’d been more than an hour last time when my son had threatened to enter. How long would he make me wait this time before making good on his promise?







Chapter 09



Mom had disappeared back into her room again. I’d got dressed as instructed and went and sat in the saloon. But she wasn’t coming out. I thought about going back to my room – if she was going to spend this entire vacation wanking in her room, maybe I should just do the same.



I saw the bag on the seat with the goodies inside. I picked out the clit massager and went and stood outside Mom’s door and listened.



After a few minutes, I gently placed my hand on the handle and began to squeeze. The door had a lock on the other side and I felt like I’d given her ample warning. When the door began to open, I looked inside.



Mom was completely naked except for her collar. Her eyes were shut tight and she had the fingers of her left hand rummaging around inside her while the fingers of her right rapidly strummed across her clit, which was poking out of its hood between her pubic forest and throbbing for all to see. Well, me anyway.



Her breasts were incredible. They were simply awesome. I’d never seen anything like them in all the years I sat in front of my TV screen wanking at the sight of some adult performer or Hollywood actress. Mom’s boobs were glorious. The way they sagged back on her chest, so naturally as to almost lie flat and yet retain a subtle curve. Her nipples were deep red and looked just like her clit, both in colour and erectness. As she writhed in pleasure at fingering her most sensitive parts, her boobs jiggled, like a wave, fluid and divine. It left me in no doubt that God was either a man or a lesbian, there simply could be no more perfect creature in all of creation – than woman.



“Oh master, master please …” she moaned quietly to herself.



With that, I slid the switch on the massager which was now firmly seated on my index finger and it began to buzz.



Mom’s eyes opened and stared right at me. She didn’t cover up or move a muscle; she was in too much shock. But the balance needed to be addressed. She was naked, I was not. Either I had to get naked myself and be her equal, or I had to step into the role of her master and keep my clothes on.



I had to take control right there and then. Mom had her collar, I had a vibrating finger. I leaned over Mom. I’d never seen her look more helpless in all her life.



“Don’t think Mom, just enjoy.”



I kissed her passionately on the lips and as we were kissing, my buzzing finger found it’s way between her thighs. I immediately felt Mom’s hand on mine as it guided me to where she wanted.



“Ohhh,” she moaned and plunged her tongue deeper into my mouth. Then, without warning, she withdrew, turning her head and pushing my hand away from her opening, she used her arms to cover her modesty as best she could.



“Are you my mother?” I switched off the buzzer. “Or are you my slave?” I turned it back on. “Mother?” Off. “Slave?” On.



Mom shut her eyes tight. And groaned. A moment later, the arm which covered her breasts fell to her side and the one that covered her vagina, pulled back on her clit hood to expose her little horny protrusion. She splayed her legs and whispered, “I am your slave, Master.”







Chapter 10



We moored that night about ten miles further up Loch Ness. My son and I had hardly spoken a word since that afternoon.



I wanted to. I wanted desperately to be able to tell him he’d given me the greatest orgasm of my life, the most cataclysmic, cataleptic, catatonic, caterwauling moment in the history of the world. I had felt nothing so intense since the day I gave birth to him – that very opening he found his way out of, he found his way back into for the first time today.



But every time I went to speak, I forgot how. Every word I thought to say, I lost at the end of my tongue. My tongue, which had been in his mouth and his in mine. I wanted to put my hand on his cheek and tell him everything would be alright, that he was right, that we could get through this.



He’d released me and awakened me. My son was right, I could do this. But as I looked across at him, I wasn’t sure he could.



He looked visibly disturbed.



As if the fantasy had taken over and had built itself up higher and higher in his mind, to the point where he had to do something about it, but now that it was done, it was out of his system and he was left with just the stark reality of what had passed. I feared he had come back down to Earth with a bang.



“Babes …”



He didn’t look up or respond.



I wiped a tear from my eye. All my worst fears. I’d damaged him. I’d ruined our relationship forever by committing the greatest taboo in western society. I went to my room, lay on my bed and cried my eyes out.



I didn’t know what time it was, all I knew it was dark. I was in my bed and my son’s arm was wrapped around me. I don’t know what time he came into my room or what he came in for, but he was here and his arm was around me and that was all that mattered. I wrapped my arm around him and went to sleep, blissfully relieved and in tears, hopeful of what tomorrow would bring.



We woke together, stirring at the same sound of a dog barking outside.



He smiled at me, with his eyes – and I back at him.



“Babes … are you okay?”



“Mom …” He sighed. “I just …” He sighed again. Then laughed. “I think I forgot how to speak.”



I started to cry, tears of joy. We were so alike, my boy and me. Emotionally we were on the same wavelength. Always had been. We were emotionally attuned. He’d had no words and neither had I.



I pulled his face to my bosom and threatened to never let him go.



“Mom, Mom, I’m suffocating. I need air.”



“Sorry Babes.”



He kissed me again; and again my lips opened to receive him.



I was crossing the line and I knew it. I was an exhibitionist at heart and a submissive. I wanted to be dominated and I wanted to be a slave. But I didn’t want to be just anybody’s slave. I wanted to be my son’s. Someone who cared about me.



God, I had read enough stories on that website to know that people’s fantasies ranged from the mild to the extreme, from the kind to the cruel. There were people on that site effectively writing about rape and non-consensual sex. Being forced or strong-armed and made to endure all kinds of wicked depravity. Each to his own, I suppose, but I could never partake of any of my secret fantasies except with someone I loved and who loved me just as much. That was so important, to have that trust and that bond, that mutual respect.

And my son, through no fault of my own, was turning out to be the one – the one that the universe had somehow selected for me – to be my partner in crime, so to speak.



I knew he had read stories of incest. He made no attempt to hide that little titbit of information from me. He had indulged me in my fantasy and was continuing to, but in so doing, we had crossed over into each other’s fantasies. And I found myself – I didn’t want to say it out loud or even acknowledge it in my mind, but – I was enjoying this illicit contact with my son.



We’d seen each other naked, he had masturbated me with a sex toy attached to the end of his finger and put some of his fingers inside my most womanly part. His mother’s most womanly part. He had kissed me and I had kissed him. Truly, madly, deeply. And I had loved every second of it.



Maybe, just maybe, I had some incestuous fantasy of my own rattling around somewhere inside.



I had never seen the appeal of BDSM until I read a story that let me in on the psychology of it all. Prior to that, I just thought it was weird. Before this trip, I had only thought of incest as truly wrong. But the lines between right and wrong were being blurred more and more with each passing day.



I had seen my son’s penis yesterday. It may only have been soft, but I just had to face facts. I was having incestuous feelings for my son. And at this present moment in time, there was no limit to which I wouldn’t go with him.



As I lay on my back on my bed in the aft cabin, my son lay across me with his head on my chest. I stroked the side of his cheek and planted soft kisses on his hand which I held in mine. The light permeated through the narrow curtains which encircled three sides of the room above us and as we lay there, neither one of us wanted to move.



I knew his mind in that moment as surely as I knew my own – there was nowhere else in all the world that either of us wanted to be more than where we were – in each other’s arms.



And I wanted to show him something.



“Babes, would you reach into my drawer please?”



He leant over and looked inside. There was but one thing in there, my tablet. He handed it to me and I swiped it on and located my secret video. My heart beat fast in my chest, but I wanted to share this with him. I thought it would help explain my fantasy with him and show him just what turned me on.



The first thing he saw as we lay there watching it together was his room back home.



“That’s my bedroom.”



I waited a moment.



“Fuck! Fuck Mom. Fuckety-fuck-fuck-fuck!”



He’d just seen me walk away from the camera, stark naked in his room.



“FUCK!” His eyes almost popped out of his head when I turned to face camera and he saw me in all my glory. He caught his breath. “Mom …”



He took the tablet from me and placed it down on the bed alongside us, then leaned over me and started to kiss me on the lips.



I squirmed. “Babes … that’s awful. What have you been feeding yourself? Your tongue tastes like a wrestler’s armpit. That’s just disgusting. Please …” I said, giggling. “Go brush your teeth.”



As he was cleaning his, I cleaned my own. He was back on my bed when I came out of my en suite. He was watching the video and I could see the erection in his pyjamas.



“Looks like you need a pee Babes.”



“No Mom. I just had one.” He turned to me and smiled.



I knew what was on that screen was like gold to him. It was like the best Christmas and Birthday present ever. I had shared this most intimate thing with my son and I would have understood if he had been unable to take his eyes off it. But the moment he turned to smile at me, his eyes only looked into my own. He didn’t even scan down my body to glance at my breasts in my grey t shirt or my panties lower down. He just met my gaze and just stayed there, willingly captured.



I had to smile as I knelt on the bed alongside and leaned over him, his boner involuntarily twitching just out of sight. I now had two fantasies fluttering around in my mind. Yes, I was secretly looking forward to a day of submission, being his slave, preferably naked if he would carry out his threat, but I was also now craving the incestuous love of my darling baby boy.



So what I did next was probably more surprising to him than it was to me. I pulled at the elastic at the front of his pyjamas, then let it snap back. I pulled it up, lifting it well off his body and bit my lower lip, all the while my son watching me. Again, I let it snap back. The third time my fingers found their way to the elastic, he grabbed my wrist and dragged it – and his pyjamas, down his legs.



I looked at it. His penis. It was hard as a rock and the tip had come out from hiding and exposed itself to me. He had never been more naked in all his life before me. His glans, that big purple mushroom, that I had never seen in its entirety, had shown itself to me. That was my son’s. It had never been mine, it wasn’t a mother’s to see, anymore than a mother’s clit was her son’s to see. His most manly part. Exposed.



I leaned over to kiss him and felt it as it rubbed against my leg, leaving slippery, slimy trails up and down my thigh as though a slug or snail had had its wicked way with me. And God help me, I wanted my son to do so much more with it.



At breakfast we had the talk.







Chapter 11



“So …” I thought about it for a moment, trying to get it right in my head. “You’re looking to be commanded, essentially having all decisions removed from your control, you do as I say and nothing else. I mean literally, you don’t take a piss without my say so.”



Mom nodded as she took a bite of her toast.



“You want to be exposed, stripped bare and similarly, have no say in it. If I order you naked, that’s how you remain until I tell you otherwise?”



“Yes Babes.”



“Well, that’s fine indoors, but what about in public? Are you looking to feel the humiliation of being nude in front of strangers?”



Mom sighed. “You know it turns me on, but, I just don’t think I can. Take it outdoors like that. I think I can do it in front of you my love, but …”



“I read your stories Mom. I read all about those women being made to parade around made up countries in the nude. Being forced into submission and having no say in it … it made those women hot like never before. I want that for you Mom.”



She put her hand on mine and gazed right into my eyes. And smiled. “I just don’t think I’m at that stage yet Babes. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”



“I think the important thing here Mom, is that, it’s not your decision. As my slave, I will make that choice for you as and when the time comes. You will do as I say and just have to trust that I want what’s best for you. I want you to feel everything Mom. I’ll decide what happens to you out in public, not you. How does that make you feel?”



Mom was shaking like a leaf. I moved around to her side of the dinette and knelt before her, holding her tight. She shook in my arms and I asked her again, “How do you feel Mom? Frightened?”



“Yes,” she whispered into my ear.



“Frightened in a fearful way or frightened in a thrilling way?”



“Both.”



“But are you turned on by that idea Mom?”



She pulled away from me and I could see the fear in her eyes. She put her forehead to mine and looked into my eyes, then rubbed her nose to mine. “Like never before Babes.”



“Okay. So punishments. Spanking, yes?”



Mom nodded.



“Torture?”



“No. What, what, kind of torture?”



“I mean mental torture, sexual torture really. Denial of orgasms, that sort of thing. Putting objects in you, without your permission.”



“Objects?”



I smiled. I’d bought a few at the sex shop. I just couldn’t resist. I’d spent over a hundred pounds of my own money there.



“Do you trust me Mom?”



She nodded without hesitation.



“Then relax. The only thing you need to know is that I love you more than anything and I will not see any lasting harm come to you. Alright?”



“I trust you Babes.”



“Good. Now another thing. I’ve done a bit of reading, external reading really, not on that site. And it’s important for you to know, that I won’t tolerate bottom-up suggestiveness. You’re the bottom, you’re the slave. I’m the top, I’m the master. It’s me that controls this fantasy, not you. You don’t get to decide what you do and what you don’t do when you’re a slave, I do. Is that understood?”



Mom took a deep breath. And nodded.



“Afterwards, when you’re Mom again, you can express all your concerns, but when you’re a slave and I tell you to kneel, you kneel. And you say ‘yes Master’, you must always respond to questions and orders from your master.”



Mom was on tenterhooks. I could see that. She had a great deal of fear in her eyes right now and even though that was good, for her fantasy, I wanted to make some assurances to her.



“Mom, we have to have some rules.”



“Don’t I have enough rules already?”



“No. Not rules for you Mom. Rules for me. You have to know that even though I’ll play the master and give you orders and hand out discipline, ultimately, it’s you that will wield the true power, it’s you that will get to say stop and have it mean stop.”



Mom stroked the side of my face and I caught hold of her hand and kissed her palm. “Mom, it’s best not to have stop as a safe word, because it’s a perfectly normal response under duress and you might not actually mean it. It’s better to have a more unusual word. But I’ve been thinking. During a probationary period, while we both find our feet, I’d like to have a traffic light system. Like green is good, amber is careful, red is stop.”



“That’s a good idea.”



“Don’t get used to it. It’s only temporary, while we’re both novices. But I thought maybe they should have a limited number of uses, or you’ll just be screaming them out willy nilly,”



“Screaming?”



“You bet! On top of your voice! You’ll have to decide if they’re really warranted, because once you’ve used them all up, you won’t have any more vetoes to fall back on. So you’ll have four single use safe words for dial back a bit. I thought, John, Paul, George and Ringo.”



“Oh Babes, could we leave your father out of this please?”



“Dad? Oh! George!” I laughed. “Sure. Um …”



“How about KT, Alanis, Liz and Britney?”



“Okay. Sure. And then you’ll need a word to stop things altogether and go back to being Mom without me questioning it. To return all power to you. Any ideas?”



“I do.” She leaned over and whispered in my ear. I smiled. That was a great word.



“I think most of all though Mom, this has to be fun. You want to feel the thrill, the danger, the vulnerability, you want the submissiveness. You want all those things right?”



“I do Babes.”



“So shall we begin?”



A tear came to Mom’s eye and she looked to me, I suspect partly in fear, but partly in wild anticipation too. “Just one more thing Babes.”



“What is it Mom?”



“I love you with all of my heart and soul. I love you Babes.”



I couldn’t help myself. Tears began to flow from both of us and I embraced my Mom.







Chapter 12



My son held out the collar to me.



“You know what this means. This means I’m not your son. This means I’m your master.”



“Yes Master.”



“You’re not my mother, you’re my slave.”



“Yes Master.”



“Now slaves are not permitted to wear clothes unless I give permission to wear clothes. And I have not given permission to wear clothes. So strip slave. Strip.”



“At once Master.”



Oh, I felt such a thrill rush over my whole body. I just wanted to touch myself all over, but I knew I wasn’t allowed and that just made me even hotter. If I had a penis like my son, it would be sticking out ten feet by now.



I unbuttoned my shirt first and let it fall, next my cords and pulled them down to my knees. I was in so much of a hurry to disrobe in front of my son that I forgot about my shoes, so I sat to take them off so I could stand free of my trousers.



I stood there in just my bra, my panties and my socks. And my slave collar, of course. I was tingling as I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. My son had seen me naked yesterday, but still, it gave me such a rush to expose myself like this to him. Next my thumbs gripped my panties and once they were past my hips, they fell to the cabin floor.



All the curtains in the boat were closed, so my son was my only audience. I lifted each foot in turn and removed my socks. I stood before my son, I mean, my master, fully naked.



My son looked into my eyes. “Good slave. How do you feel?”



“Naked Master.”



“Yes. You are naked. You are very naked. But …”



He walked around me and I felt his hand on my shoulder.



“But perhaps … not naked enough.”



“Master?”



He walked to the side window of the boat, the one that faced out into the loch. And opened the curtain.



Unlike the windows in my cabin which were perhaps three feet wide but only six inches tall, the windows in the main saloon were huge – bright and airy.



And now the daylight was shining through on my naked, exposed body. And I loved it.



There were also curtains over the front windscreen of the boat but they were roughly at chest height, which was why the cabin steering position was up two steps from the rest of the cabin floor. My son opened them too, but now, anybody walking along the towpath alongside would be able to see in.



This thought thrilled me, but also scared me and I considered yelling out ‘KT’, but steeled my nerve and resisted.



There was nobody on the towpath anyway.



My son walked back over to me and blew on my neck. “Hands by your sides slave. Any attempt to cover up your nakedness will result in punishment.”



“Yes Master. I’m sorry Master.”



Once more, my son turned away from me and reached for the curtains of the one remaining window – the one directly adjacent to the towpath.



Oh no, please no, don’t. I’m just not ready for that.



I watched his hand on the curtain and instead of drawing them back the whole way, he just parted them slightly so there was a four inch vertical strip down the middle.



“Face the towpath slave.”



“Yes Master.”



My son then climbed the steps to go out on deck, leaving the hatch open. He strolled across to where the gap was in the curtains and crouched down to peer through.



The next thing I knew, he was kneeling alongside the boat with his hands scooped each side of his face and his nose pressed up to the window. I smiled at him. He was so cute, peeking at me through the window.



A few moments later he was back in the saloon and his hands were on the curtains drawing them back the rest of the way.



No, no, I wasn’t ready for this. There were people out there and they would see me. “KT, KT!” I yelled.



“Mom? What is it?”



“I’m not ready for that Babes. Please, draw them.”



“If I do that Mom, you’ll have used KT and you’ll just have three more words left to use. Are you sure you want to use one so early on? We’ve barely got started.”



“I do Babes. Please. Draw the curtains on that side.” There were people coming into view. I panicked. “Please Babes. Now.”



With that, my son’s hands swiftly drew the curtains shut.



“Ready?”



I nodded.



“Okay slave. I’m a little surprised you did that then, used up a safe word, I mean.”



“I’m sorry Master.”



“That’s okay slave, that’s quite okay, but …”



“But what Master?”



“Well, the windows are tinted slave. When I went outside, I couldn’t actually see in. I had to press my face to the glass before I could see anything. I just thought that it might give you a thrill to stand so naked and see people pass by so close.”



“Oh Master.” I sighed.



“Would you like me to open them again slave?”



“Please Master, yes.”



“Very well.”



He opened the curtains and now the whole cabin was flooded with light from three sides.



“Hmn. Let me see. What else do we have in this bag, slave?”



He went over to his case and opened it just a slither, just enough to pull one item out. Again, it was not one I had asked for and at first glance, I couldn’t quite make out what it was. Then I realised. It was a blindfold.



“Come here slave. Time for some sensory deprivation.”



“Yes Master.”



My son stood behind me and a moment later, I could see only darkness and nothing of the cabin or the world beyond. He shuffled me forward and sideways, then turned me around and then suddenly I had a shock. Cold all up the front of my body. I retreated instinctively and stepped on my son’s foot.



“Oh slave … tut, tut, tut. I think that calls for some punishment.”



A few moments later, my naked body was bent over my son’s knee and he slapped my ass with his bare hand.



“One.”



The thrill. I was wet. I was pulsating. I just wanted to put my hands in my pussy and go to work on myself.



“Two.”



Oh. I wasn’t going to last the morning like this. This was a sensation like none ever before. This was my fantasy, this was my dream,



This was my reality.



“Three.”



I ground my pussy into my son’s knee, but he pulled me off it and back into place.



“Four.” It was a harder slap that time. I loved it. My son was really finding his feet.



With five came the moment pain and pleasure melded into one infectious addiction. I wanted more. It hurt enough to make me wince, but only momentarily before allowing the acute feeling of bliss to permeate deeper into my body, every inch of me now felt connected as if at the end of some super fast neural pathway.



Six. Nggghhhh. I gasped and whimpered. It was like scratching the beautiful itch, crossing the threshold, blurring the line between agony and ecstasy. Was this subspace?



I made it to seven before I could take no more and plunged my fingers deep into my pussy.



My son stopped his punishment and lifted me to my feet.



“Hands by your side slave.”



“Yes Master.”



Still blind to the world, I felt him grab my wrist and begin to wrap something around it. Then my other wrist, exactly the same.



“Hands behind your head slave.”



“Yes Master”



“Are you aware of what you did wrong slave?” he asked as I felt a chain being threaded through the loops of what were obviously wrist cuffs to match my collar.



“I touched myself without Master’s permission.”



“That’s right slave. So in order to keep your hands away from your pussy, I am chaining both your wrists to your collar. You cannot feel yourself up then and you will be displaying yourself in a most pleasurable manner.”



“Yes Master.”



“Now. I believe you have three more slaps awaiting you.”



“Yes Master.”



I found myself back over my son’s knee and I resisted the urge to grind into it again, though I was excited beyond belief. In my blindfold with my cuffs fastened to my collar, I bent naked and received my punishment from my son.



He shuffled me across the cabin again.



“Now try not to flinch this time slave. More punishment will await if you do.”



“Yes Master, I’ll try Master.”



Again, I felt the cold all down my front. On my breasts and stomach, on the tops of my thighs and I could even feel the cold on my pussy. My nipples were as erect as they had ever been. I was pressed to the window, looking out onto the towpath. I knew this, because it was the only window that I could stand against, the one overlooking the loch was alongside the dinette and I could not stand against that one.



“Now you stand there slave until I tell you otherwise. I’m going to the shops for some milk and the papers. But just to complete your sensory deprivation, I’m going to put some earplugs into your ears. Be a good slave and behave while I am gone.”



“Yes Master.”



Oh the joy. The bliss. I was naked and pressed to the window. This was one of my long standing fantasies. My whole body was alive and overloaded with sensuousness. I could feel the mild tremble in my breasts, the aching in my nipples, the butterflies in my stomach, the fire in my vulva. My buttocks twitched and I began to rub my inner thighs together.

They were already so moist, my juices were seeping out of me at an extraordinary rate. I just had to make use of them. So I ploughed myself into the glass window, gyrating, sliding, grinding, lifting my legs side to side to try and create friction in my loins.



The glass was so smooth and left nothing for my clit to rub against, so slick was the glass with my clear fluid that I stood on tippy toes so my exposed clit would have something new to slide against. And then it was smooth and slippery again. So I stepped to my side, for a fresh piece of glass to provide a moment’s friction to excite my clitoris.



Up and down the window I manoeuvred, side to side, around and around, pounding, grinding, slipping, sliding, splaying my legs and gyrating my mound into the glass.



Oh, if only there were people on the other side to see me now.







Chapter 13



When I got back from the shop, there was a small gathering of people on the towpath alongside where our boat was moored. And I could see why.



Mom was naked and pressed to the glass, her hands behind her head with her blindfold on. She was sliding up and down the window trying to pleasure herself, leaving sticky trails of vaginal fluid wherever she’d been. It was some sight.



There were about eight or nine people standing there watching Mom. All but two were kids. I say kids, they were teenagers, all boys, all with their mobile phones in their hands filming her. Good idea, I thought.



The other two were both women in their twenties and I could tell from the way they were holding onto one another that they were lesbians and clearly enjoying the show.



I stepped over to them and spoke quietly, so the teenagers wouldn’t overhear. “Would you like to touch her?” I asked.



I realised that came across as a bit bold and a bit awkward, but they wasted no time at all in answering with a resounding ‘yes’.



“I can arrange that,” I said. “She’s my slave. She gets off on this, as you can no doubt see. Come on.”



I filled them both in on my plan. I gave very strict instructions on what they were allowed to do. I had given them each one minute, alone with my Mom. To touch her in any place they wanted, just so long as they remained quiet, didn’t remove her blindfold and only used their hands.



I unlocked the cabin door and stepped inside. Walking across to Mom, I briefly removed one of her earplugs. “I’m back slave. Stay where you are and don’t move.”



“Yes Master.”



I replaced it and went back up on deck and gave word to the first of the lesbians to go down inside. I stood with the other one as she too, now filmed Mom, waiting to be touched up by her partner.



This was too good an opportunity to pass up, so I took out my cell phone and began filming, making sure to take in a shot of the crowd watching and taking photos of her.



The lesbian cupped Mom’s breasts and ran her fingers down her stomach, into her pubes, then over her clit. She massaged her clit for a few seconds longer, really finding a rhythm, then slapped Mom on the backside. I watched as Mom jumped.



The kids on the path sniggered. “Can we have a go, Mister?”



I shook my head. “Sorry lads. No men allowed. But you can take all the photos you like.”



The first lesbian came up on deck with a wicked smile on her face and when the other lesbian stepped on board she stuck her tongue down the first one’s throat.



We all watched on, filming, as the second lesbian found her way over to Mom, naked and exposed in the cabin cruiser’s side window. She slapped each one of Mom’s beautiful ass cheeks, before bringing her hands around to Mom’s frontage, delving momentarily into her pubes for a quick feel, then up her stomach, between her breasts, up to her neck, then back down to her breasts. She pinched each nipple in turn, before slapping her first breast, then her second. She finished up with a slap to Mom’s pussy, before re-emerging on deck.



“Show’s over boys,” I said. “Hope you enjoyed yourselves.”



I undid the ropes from our mooring and went back into the cabin, started up the engine and sailed away.



When there was nothing but water all around us, I returned to Mom, taking out her earplugs and removing her blindfold. I unclipped her wrists from behind her head as I figured her arms must be tired by now. Instead I went into the bag for my next goody. It was a belt, again with plenty of D rings. I clipped her wrists to her sides instead.



“It looks like you enjoyed yourself while I was gone slave.”



“Oh yes Master. I’m sorry Master.”



“While the cats away, the mice will play,” I said. “But now I know you can’t be trusted slave.”



“I’m sorry Master. Please forgive me.”



“Oh, I can forgive you slave. But I still have to punish you.”



“Yes Master.”



“Bend over slave.”



I went to my bag for my next surprise. Actually, it was two surprises. The first was a container of lubricant. I slathered some onto my fingers and ordered Mom to stand with her legs far apart. I found her little rosebud and plunged inside, making sure to wriggle my finger around inside her anus.



I pulled it out and showed it to Mom.



“Now because of your misbehaviour, my finger is dirty. What are you going to do about that slave?”



Mom wasted no time at all in responding. “Alanis.”



I laughed.



“Don’t even think about it Babes!”



My God, my Mom was so beautiful and utterly captivating. I was head over heels in love with her and as far as I was concerned, no one – and I mean no one, was as beautiful as her to my eyes.



“You sure about that?”



“I’m sure,” she said.



“Okay.” I went to wash my hands in the bathroom sink and scrubbed my fingernails with soap while I was at it. “Ready?”



She nodded.



“Bend over.”



I slowly felt around with the butt plug I had purchased, found Mom’s hole and gently pushed it past the threshold, into her anus.



“Thank you Master, for punishing me.”



“I think it’s time we went up on deck now, slave.”



“Master?”



“On deck. We can’t spend all our time in the cabin. It’s a nice day outside. It’s really warmed up since yesterday. I think we should go and get some air.”



“Master, please. I’ll be exposed. Someone could see.”



“I wouldn’t worry too much about that slave. By the end of this week, you’ll have shed most of your inhibitions. Once you get used to being my slave and get used to not having the automatic right to wear clothes, you’ll adapt. And you’ll thank me for it.”



I could tell Mom was thinking of using her next safe word.



“Slave. If you’re thinking of using another safe word, you’ll only have one more left to use. You’ve used half of them already and it’s only the first morning. We have another three days of this. Do you think one word will get you through the rest of the week? Because if you use all your amber words, there’ll only be the red word left to use. And if you have to use that, all of this ends. At least for this holiday.”



I looked at Mom. It was hard, I know, but if she only played it safe, she wasn’t going to get the most pleasure out of this. This was Scotland. No one knew us here. It wasn’t like we were famous or anything, we weren’t recognisable to anyone.



“Come slave. Follow me.” I walked up the steps onto the deck above the aft cabin and waited for Mom to follow. Slowly, she poked her head above the hatch.



I went up a few more steps onto the upper deck, directly above the saloon, to where the external steering position was situated. “Now slave. Come now.”



Mom climbed the steps to the top deck and looked all around. There were a few boats in the distance, but none close enough to get a good view. It wasn’t like there were going to be any zoom-lens paparazzi lying in wait.



“Come sit with me slave.” I spread my legs on the seat and pushed myself back as far as I could go. I wanted Mom to sit between my legs, so I tapped the seat where I wanted her to sit.



As she slowly sat her naked ass down between my legs, my cock dug into her back. I reached around her with my hands and felt her nipples. I had to remember she was sitting on that butt plug.



I kissed Mom’s neck and ran my tongue down her cheek and into her ear, which I nibbled away at. She turned into me so she could enjoy my touch all the more.



I felt between her legs. They were saturated. Slick like something had exploded inside her. I kept my fingers on the outside of my mother’s vagina, not venturing inside and not arousing her clit, but just rubbing my fingers through her pubic hair and exploring the folds of her outer labia and the soft, saggy portions of her inner labia which protruded forthwith.



“Slave. What did you think about when I left you this morning?”



“Master?”



“What was on your mind? Tell me your thoughts.”



“Master, I …”



“It’s alright slave. You can tell your Master anything. I won’t be mad.”



“Master, I wondered what it would be like to have people watching me. Watching me naked, trying to pleasure myself. The thought turned me on.”



“Secretly you wanted it?”



“Yes Master.”



“You thought about people standing on that towpath, being able to see inside, being able to see your most intimate parts, bare and exposed. The idea of that thrills you doesn’t it?”



“Oh yes Master, more than anything.”



“What if I told you people were watching you?”



“But Master, they couldn’t have seen in. The windows are tinted.”



“Yes. And it was very difficult to see inside anything more than a shadow. But when I pressed my face to the glass, I could see inside clearly. And when I had you press your body to the glass, I could see you clearly from outside.”



“Master …” Mom’s breath became ragged with excitement.



“And so could everyone else.”



“M…” Mom choked her words and I didn’t want her using a safe word, so I unhooked her collar from around her neck.



“Mom …”



“Babes? People … saw … me?”



I wrapped my arms around my mother and held her quivering body.



“People saw you Mom. And they thought you were beautiful. They could hardly take their eyes off you.”



“How many people Babes?”



“Eight or nine.”



“Eight or nine? Oh my God. Oh. Oh God. What have I done?”



“How do you feel Mom? Excited?” I put my hands in her pussy and it felt like a river flowing in there.



“Oh Babes, I just don’t know. I would never have … oh my God, what I did. It was so obscene. People saw that?”



“People filmed that Mom.”



“Oh …” Mom got to her feet and began to pace around. “Oh fucking hell. Oh fucking hell, fucking hell, fucking hell.”



“Mom, do you want to see the video I filmed?”



Mom stopped dead in her tracks.



“You filmed a video too? You’re not just trying to scare me?”



“No Mom. I filmed a video too. And you were beautiful. You are beautiful. And I love you and I hope you can forgive me. You have to know, I only did it because I felt it was right for you, that it was what you secretly wanted but were too afraid to ask for.”



“Oh Babes.” She started to cry.



“Mom, I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please. Forgive me. I couldn’t bare it if I lost your love. I’m sorry Mom. Please tell me you still love me.”



Mom came and sat down in my arms and held me.



“Please Mom. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for you. And I did it for us.”



“How could you think that you could lose my love Babes? That will never happen. Never. Not ever.”



“So you’re not mad?”



“Let me see the video first before I decide that.”







Chapter 14



As I sat naked in my son’s arms and watched the video, I was overcome with emotion. I think I would have cried at my ordeal, but I was having some kind of out of body experience. I was filled with lust for this poor woman who was on display to all these ogling eyes. She was making a complete exhibition of herself and God knows where those videos were going to end up. But that woman was me. And it was her vulnerability in all this that was turning me on. I thrust my fingers into my vagina as my son held his cell phone up to my eyes.



“Oh my God. You let someone else on board?” I said as I saw a woman stepping onto the boat. “Wait a sec … I thought I could smell perfume. I thought it was … oh my God, it wasn’t me? I thought my sex was overpowering it and that’s why it didn’t smell quite right. It was another woman. Oh my fucking Aunt Judy.”



And then she was touching me and I felt my son’s hand join my own at my pussy. He began to stimulate my clit as I plunged ever deeper inside and used fingers on both my hands to slop around inside.



“She’s the one that slapped me?”



He moved his hand up to my breast and began to touch my nipple, all the while holding the small cell phone in front of my face.



My orgasm was here, I was coming. I was coming and I felt like I was never going to stop. I could hardly catch my breath. That poor, exposed woman, I thought. She’s me. Oh God. I came. I came like crazy. I was gushing. Whatever it was between my legs, it was slathering all over the boat. It was oozing out of me and with each pulse of my private parts came an intense wave of pleasure. It was permeating throughout my whole body causing me to writhe in exquisite ecstasy. Never in my life had I felt anything remotely like this before. I had never imagined such a feeling was possible. And I just kept on coming. And another woman was making her way on board, kissing the first one, then coming down into the cabin to be with me.



And I knew what was about to happen. She had begun by slapping my ass cheeks. Which she was doing now. I was whimpering, tears were flooding from my eyes, bodily secretions were flooding from between my thighs. Oh God, I can’t take it. I was panting, my breasts were heaving, my breath was shallow and rapid, I was flushed all over. I was on fire. And I was outside masturbating and being masturbated by my son. In public. Outdoors. She was slapping my breasts.



I remembered in the boat, when I thought my son had slapped my vulva. That feeling was so intense I had nearly, but not quite, come. But seeing it, watching it, touching myself, being touched now, orgasm upon orgasm upon beautiful orgasm washing over me like an unrelenting tidal wave. God, I was going to fucking blow up. I screamed. At top of my lungs. I screamed out loud.



“I’m commmMMMIIIIINNNNNGGGGG.”



Screamed?



I fucking roared!











Chapter 15



I had to hold Mom up and keep her from falling. I thought she was having some sort of a fit. She was convulsing uncontrollably. I thought I knew what a female orgasm entailed from last night, when I had fingered my Mom’s pussy with a vibrator. I didn’t know shit.



I’d like to say it was ten times more intense. But this was off the scale. This was some scary shit. And I’d never been more envious in my life.



I always thought women came off worse than men when it concerned orgasms and their intensity. I mean, they just didn’t have the parts, did they? They didn’t have a penis. They had some tiny little thing that was like one small chunk of just the tip of a man’s penis.



And it wasn’t like they could work it in the same way. All they could do was rub across it. I’d tried that with my own penis once or twice, seeing if I could simulate a female orgasm from my own body.



I would tuck my cock down between my legs so that just the tip was showing and then just rub my palm or my fingers across the top of it. Without the ability to slide up and down, it just wasn’t the same. It was even quite sensitive doing it that way.



But I was sure I had a female orgasm inside me somewhere and I just had to keep trying for it. Even taking my shaft in my hand and pressing hard into my cock head with my other hand and rubbing across it, harsh and rapid like I’d seen women do. All it did was cause pain and that pain would soon become unbearable. It was just too sensitive to be so violent with my baby.



And so I never found out if it was indeed possible for a man to have a woman’s orgasm. I just figured, women got that same feeling that I got and mistook unbearable sensitivity for pleasure.



Because I’ve got to say, when I masturbate and when I come, I’m pretty quiet. I barely make a sound. Women are noisy. They’re screamers. And when I rubbed my cock in that unusual way, I cried out too. But not in ecstasy – in pain.



So I really did think that’s what women got to experience. Faced with that or nothing, well, it was probably better than nothing. It did at least feel sexual in some way, even if it wasn’t particularly pleasant.



Women would never get to feel that moment of inevitability, then a few moments later, that surge, then climax as we shot our load.



I’d even experienced different kinds of orgasm. Every so often I would have what I would refer to as a ‘double cum’ – simply put, I’d get that moment of inevitability, but the surge wouldn’t be present. I’d go straight to orgasm instead, albeit without ejaculating and my dick would remain hard and not go all sensitive on me like it would during the refractory period after a normal cum. I could keep going, having something of a plateau to enjoy and then anywhere between maybe twenty seconds and ten minutes, another feeling of inevitability, then that surge, then another climax and finally my load would shoot out, more voluminous than ever.



I was able to have multiple orgasms, well, two anyway, very occasionally – and by that I mean four or five times a year perhaps. If the perfect normal orgasm was rated a five, a double cum – or a sensational double cum, more like, would rate a seven on a scale of five.



But women. If the feeling they got from massaging their clit was the same as what I got trying to simulate my own female orgasm, then that was like a nought point two on my scale of five. And I kind of felt sorry for them. I really did.



It was better than nothing I suppose. And if they’d never known what it was like to have a man’s orgasm, then perhaps that nought point two was like a five to them.



But as I struggled to keep my Mom from spontaneously combusting on the deck before me, I knew I just had to be wrong. If what Mom was having was a five in her book, my seven seemed like a nought point two in comparison. And I really envied her.



I’d never lost control like that. If I hadn’t been there to hold onto my Mom, she would have been overboard and Nessie would have come to see what all the splashing was about.



For the first time in my life, I really wanted to be a woman.



No. I wanted to be a lesbian. Have the best of both worlds. I laughed to myself. I was such a typical man – and all men were lesbians at heart. That’s why we loved them so much. We didn’t give a shit about gay guys. The sight of two blokes kissing was enough to make us want to puke our guts out. But lesbians – we loved lesbians. Kind of the dumbest irony imaginable. We lusted after the very creature that by definition had no interest in us. God, how stupid were men?



Mom finally stopped seizing after about five minutes and began to calm down and open her eyes. By this point we were lying on the deck, completely out of sight of anyone except passing spy satellites. I smiled at her.



“Wow Mom. That was intense.”



The way she looked at me. In that moment, it was raw passion, plainly evident in her eyes. She grabbed my head and pulled my face to hers and stuck her tongue down my throat, almost fucking me with it.



As I leaned over her, my fingers went and located her clit.



“No!” she snapped, slapping my hand away. “No Babes. Mommy can’t take anymore down there. It would probably kill me.”



“It was that good?”



She burst into tears and sobbed in my arms.



“That was the best orgasm of my life Babes. And it wasn’t with your father, it wasn’t on my own. It was with you. I’ve never experienced anything remotely like that before Babes.”



She was genuinely sobbing. Tears were running off her face. She lifted her hand to her eyes and squeaked. “Hold me.”



I wrapped myself around my Mom and gently rocked her back and forth in my arms. This was the greatest moment in my Mom’s sexual life. And it was mine too.

I may not have experienced an orgasm of my own, but whatever Mom had had, it transcended her own body and seeped into mine. Spiritually, emotionally, I had finally experienced part of a female orgasm. My whole body was quivering. And I positively glowed from the inside out, contented like never before.



We called it a day for today. Mom couldn’t take anymore. She wasn’t likely to derive any sexual pleasure from playing games for the rest of the day, so we just enjoyed the day as mother and son as we boated about Loch Ness, on the lookout for a monster.



We had a good day. A real good day. One for the history books. And whether we were out on deck, or inside the cabin, we were real close, continuously touching, barely letting go of one another for an instant; toilet breaks, the only exception.



As night fell and we moored up on the north side, we had a few drinks and fell asleep, fully clothed, in each other’s arms, in the saloon at the dinette.







Chapter 16



For the second morning in succession, my son and I were awakened together.



“Hello?”



My son kissed me on my cheek. I brushed him away.



“George? Is that you? The reception’s terrible.”



When my son realised it was his father on the telephone, he straightened himself up and shuffled over in the seat. I had to smile. We had gone beyond what any mother and son should, but I had no regrets. My new relationship with my son had become an intrinsic part of my life that I wasn’t about to give up without a fight. George filled me in on his last few days and checked that we were both okay.



“Yes honey. I’ll tell him. George? George?”



“Tell him what Mom?”



I smiled at my boy and kissed him on his cheek as way of apology for brushing him aside. “Your father said he wants you to take extra special care of me.”



The look in my boy’s eyes was priceless. And we were thinking the exact same thing.



“You’re looking a little overdressed this morning Mom. Or is it underdressed?” he asked, swirling my slave collar around in his hand.



“Can I at least have some breakfast first?”



“Hmn, I don’t know Mom. I’m thinking not.”



“Babes, please. I’ll play, I will, but let me get cleaned up first, washed and made up.”



“Sorry Mom. On with the collar, off with the clothes.”



The little bugger. I loved him. A minute later, I was naked and collared. And already I was feeling excitement sweep all over my body.



“Can I please put on my make up Master?”



“No slave. You may not. You’re too beautiful just as you are. Permission denied.”



“Yes Master.” He said the sweetest things. And I guess, if I was going to be chained to the inside of the boat today, it didn’t really matter. No one was going to see me. Or were they? I just had to wonder about what my son had in store for me today.



Once again, he left me alone in the boat while he went searching for a shop on the quieter, north side of Loch Ness, but this time, I wasn’t on public display, much to my chagrin.



When he returned about half an hour later, he was terribly excited. He had a newspaper and a pint of milk, but he also had an idea in his head. He relieved me of my slave status temporarily as he filled me in on his plan – and I nearly wet myself. He was trying to get me to use up all my safe words, I just knew he was.



“I didn’t see anyone on my way there. I didn’t see anyone on my way back. When I got there, I had to wake the woman up. She was asleep with her knitting on her lap. Mom … if you’re ever going to be naked in public, this is as easy as it’s ever going to get.”



I can’t really describe what I was feeling. I think if I had to choose just one word, it would be trepidation. But that would do a disservice to all the other words I was feeling too. I wanted to do it. And even though I was scared to death, I was thrilled by the sense of danger and the capacity for it all to go horribly wrong somewhere along the way. I was going to do it.



My son gave me the choice as his mother, not as his slave. My acceptance of the collar was to be my acceptance of his plan.



Shortly afterwards, we stepped out of the boat, my son locking up. I stepped onto dry land completely in the buff. Except for my collar, my leash and a pair of trainers. I was outdoors, nude.



There was no towpath anywhere near where we had moored, just fields, hedgerows and a glorious view to the south. As my son led me through the Scottish countryside, I felt absolutely fantastic. Liberated is not a strong enough word. I was rambling naked in public. It was great.



A short while later, we came to a lane. My son had said he’d walked along it for a quarter of a mile and nothing had come his way or the other. He hadn’t seen a soul. At the end of the lane was a post office and about five houses scattered here and there.



My son left me chained to the hook outside the post office that said ‘Dogs’ on it. Charming, I thought. But as he went inside and left me standing there out in the open, I couldn’t help but start to finger myself. This was such a delicious fantasy. And my son took his time too. He was a good five minutes in the store, but all he came out with was a book of stamps. And he’d caught me again.



He looked into my eyes and felt between my legs with his own hand, bold as brass he pushed his finger up inside me and crouched to his knees. He pulled his finger out and licked it. Shaking his head, he put his finger back inside me. I was oozing sex and I knew it.



Standing up, he put his finger in my mouth for me to taste. I sucked on his finger and was reluctant to let it go. If he’d put his finger inside me again, out here in the open, effectively in the post office doorway, I would surely have begun to climax.



“Come slave.”



He led me across the road to a public bench.



“Assume the position. Ten spanks for you. You’re a very naughty slave. I must remember to cuff you when we get back.”



“Yes Master.”



I can’t describe the joy I felt, bent over my son’s knee, in public, outside a shop where someone was inside, stark naked, being spanked. It was heaven.



My son had said he wouldn’t be able to take me to the imaginary ‘Sessia’, but this was surely the next best thing. I mean, this was real, this was happening. And happening to me. How far I had come, from reading about this kinky stuff on the internet to actually living the dream. I didn’t care about anything else in the world right now, because, simply put, nothing else mattered. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I wasn’t going to pass it up, acting like a middle-aged, prudish, stick-in-the-mud. I was going to fucking enjoy myself while I could. You go girl, I thought to myself as my son allowed me to return to my feet, before leading me off back down the lane towards our boat.



He took out the book of stamps from his pocket. We needed some for the postcards, but we didn’t need a dozen. He’d bought an assortment – six first and six second class.



He tore off a first class stamp and held it to my tongue for me to lick it. Then he slapped it on my already sore ass.



Then he tore another one but licked that one himself. He slapped it on my left breast. The next I licked and he slapped it on my other breast. He licked the next one and that one found my other ass cheek. I hope he wasn’t planning on posting me somewhere.



Two left of the first class stamps. He tore them to have one in each hand. I licked the stamp he held out for me which he carefully stuck dead centre, just above my pubic hair. I smiled at him. He was such a cutie.



The final stamp he put on his lips and lightly brought them to my own. I just touched the bottom of the stamp with my tongue to taste that awful substance, when he pulled back and kissed me on the mouth, sticking the stamp over my lips.



“It’s all first class slave. It’s all first class with you.”







Chapter 17



True to my word, I cuffed Mom as soon as we got back to the boat. I decided to experiment a little with the sex shop goodies. After putting the cuffs and belt on Mom, I attached her left wrist to the right side of her belt and her right wrist to the left side of her belt in a way so as to accentuate her boobage.



Not content with merely lifting her boobs out, I decided to get a little bit adventurous, improvising with some rope I found on deck. I was no expert, but seeing as I wasn’t intending suspending her from the rafters, I relied on good old common sense and didn’t wrap or tie anything too tight. When I was done with Mom, her boobs looked like cartoon eyes on stalks. They were a completely different colour from the rest of her body, but she assured me, they were fine.



Next up, some clothes pegs I’d brought from home. I teased her first, placing one on her labia, but then settled for one on each nipple. She didn’t particularly like that at first, but I told her she had to give them a chance.



Next up was the rather messy procedure of inserting the butt plug, though what Mom didn’t know was that it vibrated. I just hadn’t turned it on yesterday.



After washing my hands, I again delved into my case. She hadn’t yet seen all that I had purchased. I was hoping to be able to punish her for some form of insolence, but the only thing I could legitimately punish her for was feeling herself up outside the post office.



I know I’d given her a spanking for that, but I had said that I would have to take a more preventative stance to deal with that problem in the future. And it was my intention to deny her any orgasms until tomorrow night. I had hopes that she might be so gagging for it, she might allow me to – well, I’d just have to wait and see and play it by ear.



Anyway, I had a ball gag. Mom’s eyes lit up the instant she saw it. She knew exactly what it was.



“Master? Have I done something wrong?”



I just smiled at her as I positioned it in her mouth and tied it behind her head. “Not yet slave, but I’m sure it won’t be too long now.”



I finished her ensemble off with the blindfold.



“Mom …” I didn’t refer to her as slave because I wanted her to know something important. “I think we’re up to ‘Liz’ next, aren’t we? Well, seeing as you have that gag in your mouth and you’re blindfolded, so I can’t see your eyes, the signal will be lifting your left leg as high in the air as you can and stamping your right foot. Okay Mom? Nod, if that’s okay.”



She nodded. So I led her from the saloon, down the steps into her cabin and helped her onto her bed.



“Lie down slave and don’t move. I want to take some pictures of you.”



A few minutes later, I had all the snaps I, I mean Mom, would want. And I took off all my clothes so I was naked. Mom had had the orgasm to end all orgasms yesterday and to say I’d been envious was an understatement. But regardless, I wanted my own orgasm right now, but I also wanted to tease Mom, by bringing her to the boil and denying her at the last.



I lay on the bed between her legs and spread them a bit. Then I licked her. It was the first time I’d done that, so I stopped and looked for the signal. When it didn’t materialize, I licked her again, probing deeper with my tongue.



Far from being upset, she appeared to be enjoying it. But I wasn’t going to pleasure her. I knelt over her next and took one of the pegs off her nipple and immediately started tugging it. Then I slapped her boob, before kissing it. It was the first time I’d done that too. I licked all around her areola, then blew on it. Then slapped it. Then replaced the peg.



Next I plunged my fingers inside her pussy, two at first, but then I added a third and finally a fourth. When they were all in there, I rotated my hand and watched her react. She lifted both her thighs, but her feet remained firmly on the bed, her toes curling and digging into the sheets.



I was only inside her about twenty seconds. Removing my hand, I slapped her pussy, then buried my fingers in her pubes and tugged away at them.



Again, I switched my focus of attention. Now I licked her face, those parts of it I had access to. I licked her lower lip and chin, nibbled on her ear, then engulfed her whole nose with my mouth and began licking her nostrils. Her head flinched to the side and I looked for the signal. Then carried on.



Aware that she needed her nostrils to breathe with that ball gag in her mouth, I concentrated on just licking one nostril, even trying to shove my tongue up there. As I was doing so, I reached between her legs and switched on the butt plug.



She nearly jumped clean off the bed. I smiled and looked for the signal. I then removed the peg from her other breast and began to kiss that one. I had placed the clit massager on my finger and slid the switch to turn that on too. Instead of touching her vagina with it, I ran it over her breast, which was the most tender shade of bright pink I’d ever seen.



I wanted to get her sexed up, but I didn’t want to push her over the edge. I definitely intended only to tease her all day today and tomorrow and deny her any release.



I wasn’t going to deny me any release though. And so I shut down the butt plug, I shut down the finger massager and I gave her pussy one more lick, just teasing each side and up to her hood, but not venturing inside or onto her clit.



I then knelt between her legs and started to jerk off my dick. This was a real life porno, right in front of my eyes and this was the one true love of my life, my Mom.



She must have known what I was doing, right there between her legs. Indeed, she even raised her head to ‘see’ why I had stopped pleasuring her. I decided to stand up off the bed and push her legs together. I then straddled her arms and belly so my erect cock and balls hovered just over her bright pink boobs. I snapped off both pegs, slapped each breast and shoved my dick in between the two.



There was a lot of rope in there, so I made sure to squeeze her boobs, such that my dick was able to slide comfortably between them. I turned around and looked for the signal. There was none.



I could only ascertain that Mom was okay with me masturbating myself on her. After all, yesterday and the day before, she had allowed herself to be masturbated by me. It was only fair that I should get my go too.



I sensed however, that if my cock were to end up anywhere near her vadge, the signal would go up like a flare. So I stayed away from it, but did take to reaching behind me, either to give her a brief finger or a quick slap.



I was very near coming, so finished myself off with my hand and aimed my spunk all over Mom’s breasts. Wow. Fucking A Mom. Fucking A.



I was spent and my milky white sperm covered Mom’s titties. It was such a contrast, like strawberries and cream.



I reached behind her head and untied her ball gag, carefully removing it from her mouth. I then kissed her lips and immediately felt her tongue reaching for my own. I slunk back down and began to lick my load off Mom’s right breast, scooping up as much as I could and held it in my mouth. I then kissed her again, open mouthed and her tongue instinctively reached inside to suck out all my salty goodness.



Mom was insatiable, she couldn’t get enough of it, her tongue was frantically digging inside my own mouth. She wanted more, more, more.



I placed my right hand on her left breast and scooped up more of my sperm with my fingers and put those in her mouth. She sucked and slathered, trying for every last bit of my semen. Game on Mom. Game on.



I managed to collect one last handful of sperm and instead of putting it in her mouth, I rubbed it all around the outside of her mouth instead, on her chin, her cheeks, even her nose. I sat back and watched Mom’s tongue work its way out of her mouth to try and get another taste. It was then that I looked down at my dick which was receding fast and noticed the last few drops squeezing up to the tip, so I knelt over Mom’s face and lowered my cock, little by little as her tongue delved around outside of her mouth to find every last morsel of her son’s sperm.



Just a little lower, then boom. She licked my cock. Her tongue went back inside her mouth, but I remained in place, hovering over her. A few seconds later, she tentatively began to stick her tongue out again and again it went back inside her mouth.



Then all of a sudden, her tongue was on my cock and she lifted her head and closed her mouth all around my shaft and began frantically sucking on me. There was no way on Earth that she didn’t know what she was doing. And she was okay with that.



Even though I was unable to get another erection, I did enjoy the feel of Mom’s mouth and tongue on my cock for a few minutes longer. Replacing the ball gag, I removed her blindfold.



I stayed kneeling above my Mom’s face so she could get a look at just what she’d been sucking. Then she began lifting her head so that the ball gag touched my penis. She chomped down around it as if longing to have my penis back in her mouth again. She tilted her head from side to side so she could caress my member with the sides of her face and chin and nose.



I lay down on Mom, being careful to keep my dick away from her pussy. I looked into her eyes as I kissed her face, then just lay, doing nothing but gazing into her eyes. I rubbed my nose on hers like Eskimos and went back down between her legs.



I switched the butt plug back on and also the clit massager and went to work bringing Mom to just below the boil. I brought her to 99 degrees, purely using these battery operated stimulators. Then when I felt her climax was close, I stopped what I was doing.



I untied Mom from all her accoutrements and left just her cuffs which I fastened to the front of her collar. I didn’t want her masturbating while I was gone. I ordered her to stay on the bed while I went and levered out the spikes that secured our boat to land. And headed off north easterly.



When we were well on our way, I went and fetched Mom and brought her to sit in the saloon. I was driving from the inside helm and liked having her sat naked at the dinette. We made our way up the Caledonian Canal and it wasn’t long before I had to get out and leave Mom inside while I went and moored up in the first loch. There was a loch keeper on hand to operate the sluices and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t see Mom through the tinted windows.



I felt it was time Mom had a turn at the wheel, so I released one of her hands so she could steer, then I took off my clothes and curled up on the dinette and started masturbating again, just watching Mom driving.



Every so often I would command her to look at me, then command her to look away. It was my intention to really rub it in that I was getting sexual satisfaction, while Mom was only getting sexually frustrated.



When I came, I squeezed my foreskin tight shut at the moment of ejaculation. I always loved the way that felt – urgent, pressurized, captive. I then got up and walked over to Mom, holding my dick out in front of me.



“Slave. Clean me up.”



“Yes Master.”



Mom got down from the helm while I took the wheel and carefully, she took the bunched foreskin between her thumb and forefinger and slid her mouth around it. When she released her grip, my tadpoles unloaded into her mouth and she began to suck on my penis once more. She rolled back my foreskin with her free hand and sucked and slopped away merrily on my softening cock.



We then hit a series of five consecutive lochs as we entered Inverness, so I gave Mom the order to go get dressed, but leave her slave collar on.







Chapter 18



My son had ordered me dressed as we approached Inverness. “No underwear slave,” he had said.



I didn’t have a huge amount of clothes with me, we had basically packed to keep warm but stay prepared for fine weather, such was the nature of British summers. My son had said he wasn’t releasing me as his slave, but I should put on a dress as we would get dinner in town.

I had only one warmish dress with me, a shirt dress in deep grey. It fell to just below my knees and would button to the collar if need be. I came out into the saloon with the top three buttons undone, still displaying my slave collar around my neck.



“Here slave.”



I marched to my son. He lifted the hem of my dress up high so he could check that I wasn’t wearing any underwear. He rubbed my bottom with his hands and gave me a playful slap. He spun me around and placed his hand inside my dress to cup my breasts and tease my nipples.



The thing that I found most remarkable about this last week, was how easily we had transitioned from mother and son to slave and master and indeed, to sexual accomplices. I still looked at him as my son, my Babes, but I thought of him sexually as well now. He was the greatest sexual partner of my life and I felt truly spoiled by his affection for me.



I know it could never be, it would be a paradox or some such, but I was in little doubt that had I met my son at the same time I met his father, if the two could have ever coexisted at the same age at the same time, then it would be my son that I would have chosen to spend my life with. I had fallen in love with my son; but I was still aware of my duties as his mother.



“Hmn. Let me see,” he said. “I’m not sure about the collar slave. Not on the streets of Inverness anyway. I wouldn’t want someone mistaking you for a goth or punk or whatever. But I need a way to maintain your subservience … as a slave.”



“Yes Master.”



He approached me and unfastened my slave collar. Then after looking at me again, he proceeded to do up my top three buttons. “I’ve had to improvise slave. Like you improvised with that first collar of yours. From now on, when we go out in public together and I allow you to wear clothes, you will always make sure you are wearing a shirt so you can do up your collar and demonstrate the necessary subservience.”



“Yes Master.”



“And remind me to buy you a tie to wear with it, to act as a leash.”



“Yes Master.”



“Okay. Let’s go.”



We caught the bus from our mooring into the centre of town. We sat at a sideways facing seat above the rear wheel arch and an oldish man wearing sunglasses sat opposite. He was older than my son and I put together and it was getting dark out, so the sunglasses seemed a little odd.



Next thing I knew, my son was adjusting my dress, raising it up my leg, ever higher to expose both my knees, which were together, as was only ladylike my mother always taught me, though it was a hard lesson for her to teach and an even harder one for me to learn.



“Legs apart slave,” he whispered in my ear. I had to obey.



I looked dead ahead at this man in sunglasses. As my knees drew further apart, his head drooped and he started to lick his lips. What a seedy old fart, I thought. But was excited nevertheless.



One stop later we alighted the bus and walked to the restaurant my son had picked out. We had a table for two and I sat opposite my son. Dinner conversation was virtually non existent. I was not permitted to speak unless spoken to.



About half way through the main course, I felt my son’s foot stroke my leg. It worked its way up until it was under my dress and didn’t stop until it was touching my vulva.



“Remove my sock, slave.”



“Yes Master.”



He ran his toe through my pubic hair and tried to tear out clumps by curling his toes and tugging. I grimaced when he was successful, but it was no more unpleasant than plucking a few eyebrows. Sexually however, it didn’t do a lot for me, only the knowledge that my son had his foot in my patch provided any thrill at all. He could have just stuck his toe inside me and done us both a favour instead.



“Slave. Take off your shoe and put your foot on my penis.”



“Yes Master.” He’d already unzipped his fly and was sporting a healthy boner. Thank God for tablecloths, I thought.



My son did not permit me to have dessert. He ordered two, one for each of us, but I had not been given permission to eat mine. And he’d ordered two of my favourites – profiteroles and panna cotta. I just had to sit and watch him devour both of them before my salivating lips.



While he took care of the bill, he ordered me to the bathroom and told me to come out with the entire bottom half of my dress unbuttoned, from my waist down. And I was to make no attempt either to cover up or deliberately cause it to open up.



He led me out of the restaurant on his arm. Immediately encountering the fresh night air, my dress blew open and gave a couple walking towards us cause to raise their eyebrows. As we passed, the female of the couple told me I might want to check my dress. “Thank you Madam,” was all I was allowed to reply.



Inverness at night, in June, is not exactly thriving. It’s not London. It’s not even Grimsby. So as we walked through ever lonelier streets, my son would ask me to undo another button on my dress and considering there were only six in the top half and one of those was my collar, it wasn’t long until all of my buttons were undone, except for my collar.



To be fair, my son did play fair. He allowed me to feel naughty walking through the lamp lit streets, but whenever someone got near, he would take me in his arms and kiss me passionately until they past by, his tongue in my mouth accompanied by his hand on my breast. I was fucking loving it. This was fun, but without real danger attached. I don’t know, maybe my son was right – by the end of this week, maybe I would lose my inhibitions about being naked in public.



Back on the boat, he had me stripped naked and back in my collar in no time. And I was to spend the night in his room, but I was to be cuffed so that I couldn’t touch myself. And I needed to touch myself or be touched. I was desperate. It had been 36 hours since my last orgasm and I’d been naked in public twice today already.



My son got naked too. I liked seeing him that way. He wasn’t in the least bit shy around me. And he had a nice penis. It was a funny old thing. I’d seen it in various states over the course of the day. Yesterday, when I saw it flaccid, I thought it was rather large, but having had a chance to eyeball it a bit more today, I realised it really wasn’t all that big at all; his Dad’s was much bigger.



George was what you might term a ‘shower’. He was about five inches soft and about six hard. His son on the other hand was about five inches semi-hard, which is why I had been impressed by him yesterday. I thought, like father, like son. Erect, my son was maybe an inch bigger than his father.



But curiously enough, when my son was soft, truly soft, like after an orgasm, his willy actually shrivelled up quite small. To only about two inches, I would say. I would guess that most men with a small package like that would be shy around women and no doubt other guys as well, but not my son. I’d seen his willy at two inches, at five and at seven and he had felt absolutely no shame. His cock was very pretty, smooth, blemish free and not in the least bit veiny.



Okay, so when it did shrink back, he had a lot of foreskin overhang, semi-hard, he looked just like his father. But sticking out and pleased to see me, that foreskin slid back over his penis head and didn’t have a lot of slack left over in his shaft skin. He was most certainly a ‘grower’ and if my Maths was correct, he grew by 250%, while his father grew by – twenty?



And he was masturbating. I was so envious. He wasn’t going hell for leather, but he was playing with it gently, not stroking as such, more fiddling with it, flopping it about from side to side, making it grow, but it still wasn’t hard.



I was laying flat on my back, collar around my neck, belt around my waist and my cuffs were clipped onto my belt. I couldn’t have touched myself if I tried.



Next thing I knew, he was coming over to my side of the V shaped berths, but he was getting himself into the 69 position. He straddled my head and dropped his hardening penis into my mouth, then fell further forward to sink his tongue into my genital region, separating my thighs to lick between them.



I began to suck his cock, but was unable to use anything but my mouth on it. I loved the way it tasted, salty, yet sweet. And I was so grateful his balls were shaved. I had thought about shaving my own nether region ever since I read those stories online, but was afraid of what George would think of me.



As he gently lapped away at my crotch, I prayed for more vigour. But he was my master and it wasn’t my place to ask. My purpose was to please master and my pleasure was at his discretion. His for the giving, his for the taking away. And I had a sneaking suspicion, he intended taking it away from me today.



Still, I sucked and lapped at his cock for all I was worth, hopeful that if I did a good job, he would see fit to reward me. When he did come, about ten minutes later, I was barely halfway stimulated. Pleasurable though it all was, I wasn’t anywhere near an orgasm. To be perfectly honest, I was hardly any more aroused than I would be, if I were having sex with my husband.



I got to swallow all of my son’s hot, white cum though and I couldn’t help but think of singing that song with him in the car on our way to Cornwall the previous month.



As I squeezed the last few drops of his spunk out of his shrivelling cock, he got up off the bed and pulled me close to the edge of my berth so he could pull my one leg over onto the other berth. I was assuming the position. Last time I was splayed like this in front of another man, he was wearing a lab coat and inserted a speculum. I had a coil fitted that day, an I.U.D. I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t see it, though the doc assured me all that was visible were two hair’s width wires. The only real difference I had noticed were that my periods tended to be a tad heavier on the second day. Other than that, George and I could have condom and pill free sex.



Oh God.



I felt him blowing on me. My mind had been elsewhere. He blew onto my vulva, tracing the line of my labia, up and down. Didn’t he know that if you blew on a fire, all you did was fan the flames? I looked down at him, looking back at me. His tongue was out of his mouth, fluttering in and out. But he wasn’t contacting my parts at all. Was he waiting for me to rise up to him? I hoped so.



I raised my hips and met his tongue head on. He just held it out and forced me to do all the work. He just knelt there on the floor, leaning towards me, tongue waiting.



I pushed onto him and wriggled around on his tongue, making him lap up my inner thigh, then trace my labia up to my hood, but every time I tried to make him lick my clit, his tongue receded back into his mouth. So long as I didn’t try that, his tongue remained on offer and I continued to lift myself to his face to pleasure myself. Ten minutes of that and I was at about 80%.



Five minutes more and my breasts were heaving, my breathing was ragged and I was close to the edge. I was slick with juices, when he raised his head just a little bit more and began blowing cold air onto me. Every time I raised my vulva to his face, he pulled away, then as I relaxed, he would blow on me. Oh please Master, I’m so close. Please won’t you take me all the way?



But it was no use begging. I just wasn’t getting any tonight.



He teased me mercilessly until I stopped begging for it. Then he settled me back onto my side of the bed and pulled the covers over me. He settled into his side and pulled the covers over his naked body.



“Goodnight slave.”



“Goodnight Master,” I said, tingles fluttering around my whole body. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless. Utterly dependant on him for my pleasure. And he had denied me.



I hadn’t long been asleep. It had taken me forever to drift off in the state I was in, but I had the impression I’d been asleep for a few minutes at best. When I felt his hand on me. Or, in me, I should say. Oh yes please. Please Master, make me come.



He shook his fingers inside me, still not touching my clit, but I think I’d remained at about 40% sexed up and I was rising rapidly, when once again, he just stopped. His hand was gone and I struggled to find my way back to slumber.



This went on throughout the night. I don’t know how he was doing it, but I saw dawn’s early light before I got any real sleep that night. He must have come to me five times, each time he utilised a different stimulus, be it his tongue, or his fingers, on my vulva, on my breasts. He even pushed my covers to one side and lay on top of me and I felt his penis pulsating between my legs, tapping at my vulva, though he didn’t try to enter. He just kissed me for twenty minutes as he lay there, feeling his cock throb against my petals.



He actually fell asleep himself while doing this and we spent the remainder of the night with just the heat from our entwined naked bodies to keep us warm.







Chapter 19



Mom was tired. I hadn’t given her much chance to sleep last night. I had set my cell phone to buzz silently at regular intervals to wake me. I felt pretty good and well rested. As I looked at Mom’s naked body, I decided to wake her with a smile on her face.



I carefully positioned myself between her legs and felt around in her pubes for her clit hood. I would have to get Mom to do something about those pubes before very much longer. They were spoiling my view.



Anyway, I managed to release her clit from its hiding place and began sucking on it, teasing it with my tongue, licking around in circles, up and down, side to side, changing it up a little. A nibble here, a blow there. But mostly I was sucking. I liked the feel of it in my mouth. It was soft, yet hard and a thorough delight to have access to. I loved Mom’s clit.



Mom started to moan and I felt her press upwards onto my face. I guess she was awake.



“Morning slave. Sleep well?”



“Eh? Wha…? Oh. Yes Master. Thank you for asking.”



“I have a treat for you today slave. It involves sensory deprivation, nudity and trust. Do you trust me slave?”



“Yes Master. With my life.”



That was all I needed to know. I was anxious to get back to the same place we’d moored at the day before, where I had taken Mom for a nude stroll. But I didn’t want to let Mom in on the location. If she knew it was safe, she might not get her thrill, so I blindfolded her immediately and attached her cuffs to the front of her collar. No masturbating for her for a while.



We arrived at my intended destination about four hours later. Mom had asked where we were going without permission to speak, so I had to give her a few swats with the paddle and then gagged her too. But Mom had no idea where we actually were.



The north shore of Loch Ness is not exactly a happening place; it is very beautiful, but not much else. I had happened to notice a tree, near the shore, the day before, that was highly suited to my intentions.



Prior to leaving the boat, I had bent Mom over and inserted her butt plug, I had tied her breasts up with rope to make them stand out straight, I clipped her cuffs to her belt, attached the leash to her collar and led her blindfolded onto dry land.



When we reached the tree, I helped her into position, with her back against it, then began tying her with some mooring rope, around the tree trunk. I tied her legs, her waist and at the top of her chest, above her breasts but under her armpits, all securely knotted behind the tree.



Then I had a change of plan. I had intended to keep Mom blindfolded and leave her, but then come back pretending to be someone else, like a dog walker or something, but seeing her there, I thought better of it. I removed her blindfold and ball gag.



“Slave. I’ve tied you to a tree. As you can see, you’re about thirty feet from shore with a clear view of the loch. Thing is, the loch has a clear view of you too. I have something in mind, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. But … that means, you’re going to have to tell me now if you want to use a safe word. I would prefer it if you didn’t, because tonight … tonight I would like you to have another orgasm. A big one. Maybe an even bigger one than the other day. And if you use the safe word, I don’t think you’re going to get one. So, do you trust me slave?”



Mom looked at me, into my eyes. I could see fear, but I was certain that fear would soon turn into a thrill. There was some part of her that wasn’t letting go.



“Slave, I release you. Mom … will you do this Mom? Everything will be alright, you’ll see. And tonight, you’ll have more pleasure than you can handle. So slave, do you want to use a safe word?”



“No Master. I trust you.”



“Okay.” I put the ball gag back in her mouth, left her blindfold off, then fell to my knees. I ran my fingers through Mom’s pubes and then snipped. With a scissors. A big clump of hair. I threw it into the wind. Then another. And another. And so on. Then when I didn’t trust myself with the scissors, I took out my shaving foam and brush.



Mom’s legs were quivering and she was moaning but with the ball gag in place, I didn’t know what she was trying to say. I continued her de-fleecing with my razor, taking extra care until she was bare. I wiped her newly unveiled womanhood with a face towel and kissed her naked skin.



“Beautiful, just beautiful … slave.”



Finally, I reached between her legs to set the butt plug to vibrate on its lowest intensity and rubbed my thumb over her clit for about five minutes. Then I turned around to head back to the boat when another idea popped into my head. I returned to Mom, pulling out my belt as I neared and was delighted to see that it would reach all the way around the tree – and Mom’s head.



So I strapped her forehead to the tree to inhibit head movement and walked back to the boat, hopped on board, climbed to the flying bridge and drove away, leaving Mom exposed, shaved and helpless. And looking at me departing.



I stopped the engine about a hundred yards from shore and decided to drop anchor. I then began to film Mom with the camcorder. The zoom on that thing was amazing. I could actually fill the entire frame with her nude pussy, but at that distance, every jitter was magnified and it was virtually impossible to keep a steady image. Even so, I took a few minutes of footage that would no doubt turn Mom on when she saw it. I went back down to the cabin and took off almost all my clothes.



I crept out on deck, keeping my head low and eased myself into the water on the far side, away from Mom. I guess it was time to find out if Nessie was a vegetarian.



I swam in a wide arc to shore, breast stroke, taking care not to splash and kept my head as low in the water as possible. It took me nearly ten minutes to reach shore, out of sight of Mom. I had to quietly creep around to get behind her without seeing me. The intention was to make her think I was on that boat that she could clearly see.



When I eventually made it around to the back of the tree, I could hear quiet sobbing coming from Mom. I wondered if I had gone too far and strongly considered stepping in front of her to release her. But then I heard the faint buzzing of the butt plug and figured she could just be highly aroused. She was after all, nude in public once again only this time she was receiving some stimulation as well.



The belt had been a masterstroke. I only thought of it at the last moment. She would be able to look down with her eyes, but she wouldn’t be able to turn her head to the side at all – and see me. As I knelt behind the tree, I snapped off a blade of grass and reached around with my hand to tickle her calf. As I worked my way further up her leg, Mom became aware of something more than, say, a fly. She tried to shake it off.



I started to work higher up her body with the blade of grass, tickling her waist and sides. Mom knew there was something on her because the quiet sobbing had stopped and she was trying to say something but the ball gag prevented it.

Then I put one hand on her. She shook all over. Every part of her that wasn’t tied down, began to quiver uncontrollably and she started yelling in panic into her gag. My hand found her pussy. It was already sopping. I just tickled her gently, found her clit hood and began to massage it. Round and round with my finger, just keeping a steady pressure.



I took my other hand and grasped her breast. It was hard from being tied up, but I was able to grab a hold of her nipple and start tugging away on it.



Then I put my fingers inside her vagina which was slick with fluid. I started to hump away inside her, all the while tugging on her nipples. Mom was screaming by this point, actively screaming. I think she was terrified and I regretted it at once.



I stopped what I was doing and was about to show myself to her and confess, when her demeanour changed. She wasn’t screaming so much anymore, it sounded more like she was requesting. And the way that her body had stopped shaking, but her hips were still squirming, I think she wanted more.



So I got back onto my knees and replaced my fingers in her pussy. And resumed my tugging on her tits. A minute or so later, Mom’s legs were shaking and I knew that an orgasm was close. I’d gained enough experience of her during the night to recognise this one thing about Mom.



So I broke it off. Stopped what I was doing and crept steadily away, returning to the water about ten minutes later, having returned to the spot I came ashore. Again I swam carefully out to the boat and climbed back on board at the far side. Once inside, I dried myself off and dressed, before coming back out on deck to wave at Mom. I sat and watched her a while, then used the hydraulic winch to draw up anchor, start the engine and return to shore.



I walked directly to her and removed her ball gag. Once she got some saliva back, the corners of her mouth curled. “Master, was that you?”



“Was what me slave?”



“Did you swim ashore Master?”



“No slave. Why would I do that?”



“Babes, please, tell me, was that you? Please Babes.”



“Relax Mom. It was me, my love. I’m sorry.”



Mom smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and waited for me to unstrap her forehead.



“Did you come Mom?”



“No Babes. But I need to desperately.”



“I know Mom. But not yet. Soon. I promise.”







Chapter 20



Back on board, I was hungry. Famished. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and all the sexual frustration had taken the life out of me. My son, of course, had yet more ideas in that beautiful head of his.



He lay me down naked on the upper deck, pointing at the sky, wearing my collar, cuffs and belt. He followed me up with a plate full of cold food, finger food and a saucepan he had filled with condiments and such.



He was also naked. And erect.



Then carefully, he began to lay out food on my body, as though I was some sort of geisha girl. He had Scotch eggs on my nipples, celery sticks propped under my breasts, he’d filled my belly button with brown sauce, there were sandwiches on my stomach and chocolate eclairs on my thighs. The piece de resistance was a washed and peeled carrot – that he had inserted deep into my vagina.



He lay down alongside me and began with the Scotch eggs, eating them himself, well, chewing them anyway. He then kissed me and fed the contents of his mouth into my own with his tongue. My baby was pre-chewing my food for me and instead of being repulsed as I would on any other day, it was a completely sexual act and I wanted it all, I wanted to be fed that way by my gorgeous son.



He took a stick of celery and dipped it into the brown sauce in my navel. He let me have the first bite, but then he put his lips to mine and began digging inside my mouth for the favour to be returned. I used my tongue to help him receive the chewed celery stick. He dipped his tongue into my belly button and brought it to my mouth, letting me lick the sauce off his tongue before allowing me another bite of celery.



He then eased the carrot from inside me and took a bite, replacing the carrot immediately afterwards.



“Mmm. That’s good slave. You have to try that.”



“Yes please Master.”



He took the carrot out again and allowed me a bite, crunchy raw carrot, slick with my own juices, fed to me by my naked son, his cock now somehow flaccid, scraping along the length and breadth of my body. He again replaced it, though less now protruded, it still deep filled me inside.



He reached for a sandwich next. It was just a piece of bread. He reached into the saucepan and pulled out a foil wrapped square of butter. He broke off a piece of bread and slotted it under his foreskin, then wiped the butter onto his penis. He leaned over my face and my mouth swallowed his cock, my tongue foraging for every last buttery crumb.



He liked the feel of that as much as I did, because he was eager to have another go. I looked at my son and he looked back at me. I was so hot for him, my whole body was lit up just for him.



“Thank you Master. More please, more.”



He continued to dribble bits of celery into my mouth, but he’d licked my navel clean with his tongue. The carrot tasted so fine, but the cock sandwiches were best of all. Fuck, I really did want to eat it, to take a bite.



With the savoury food finished, he reached for the first chocolate eclair. He straddled me and bit off the end closest to him. He turned it around and bit the other end. I could see fresh cream right the way through. He’d managed to keep his cock somewhere between soft and semi-hard all the time I was eating sandwiches, but now it was rock hard, in all its seven inch glory. It was a good job they were large eclairs. He pushed his cock into the open end closest to him, cream spilling out onto my tongue.



“Oh yes Master. Feed me. Feed me your huge cock Master. Please.”



Eclair. Oh. The rush. Chocolatey goodness. So sweet. I devoured his cock and the eclair upon it and was begging for the other. He didn’t disappoint.



My body had been cleared of food, but he hadn’t had much. Then I saw him reaching for another pat of butter, which he dropped onto my nipple and spread it around. Another pat and my other nipple. Mommy’s two buttered nipples awaited. He tore apart another slice of bread and dropped them onto my breasts then lowered his head onto them and ate lunch off me, lapping up every last bit of butter on my breasts. That looked and felt so good. I wanted the same.



“Please Master. May I?”



He again painted my nipple with another butter pat and fed my breast into my mouth as I could not, my hands still cuffed at my waist. He picked up the foil wrappers and wiped whatever butter was left onto his own nipples; then leaned over me for my tongue to pleasure him as he had pleasured me.



“Oh God Master. I love you.”



With all the food gone, there was just the cheese course remaining. Still straddling me, his cock just below my chin, he masturbated, reaching around to slap my now bare vulva every 30 seconds or so. I just lay there staring up into his eyes, mouth open, awaiting his goodness. Just before he came, he ordered me to shut my mouth. Then he sprayed all over my face, up my nostril, onto my eye, in my hair, my chin, my cheek. Then he rubbed his cock around on my face, spreading his semen around.



He collapsed alongside me and gently rubbed his sperm into every pore on my face. Oh this was paradise. If only he would give me that orgasm now, I would die happy and fulfilled. I certainly now knew what my last meal on Earth would be if I were ever given the choice.



As I lay there in the sun, my baby’s semen drying quickly on my face, pulling my skin tight, I dreamed of tonight. He wouldn’t have to do very much to me. I think if he just blew on me right now, I would come.



I’d actually fallen asleep and awoke to my son licking my face, licking all of my face. He was cleaning himself off me, but honestly, great though it felt, I enjoyed the feeling of being marked. Like he had staked his claim to me, coming on my face, rubbing it all in, I was his – his own personal property, to do with as he pleased.



I had absolutely no energy. My chest was heaving, my breasts were tingling and I couldn’t do anything but lay there, bound helpless. I smiled. He knew what I wanted, but he knew what he was doing too. There was no doubt about it, he was the master. He was my master. And even though all this may have begun as a perverted game, I think, from this moment on, I would always think of him as my master. Whatever he commanded, I would do; I would serve him. That was what I wanted. This was what I wanted life to be from now on – me and my son and only me and my son, slave and master.







Chapter 21



I was in heaven. My Mom was so beautiful. She was all that I desired and ever would. Perfection? In my eyes, certainly. She was just so radiant, her grey-blue eyes, her smooth unblemished skin, barely a wrinkle; her cute little nose, perfect jaw line, dazzling smile. My Mom was a true gem. And there was no part of her that I was unfamiliar with.



I’d shaved her earlier, without permission. I know I’d seen her clit and felt around inside her pussy lips, but seeing it bare like that, feeling her skin, slapping her down there, so moist and bubbling, God, I was so very definitely in my ideal vision of heaven. This is what I wanted, now and for evermore. If it could just be Mom and me from now on, that would most certainly be my wish.



And my nude cock wanted into her nude pussy. And I wanted in there tonight.



But I had to keep her sex up without allowing her to go over the edge. As we walked down onto the rear deck, I scooped her up in my arms and threw her overboard.



“Arghhh!” she screamed. The water was cold, particularly so after sunning up on deck for so long.



I dived in immediately after her and found my way under her, slinking between her legs and licking her pussy. She clamped her thighs around my head and I continued to delve deeper, pushing a finger into her bum, curling it inside her.



I had to come up for air. When I did I wrapped my arms around her from behind and whispered in her ear.



“I love you with all my heart slave. Do you love me?”



“Master, I love you with all of my heart too.”



“Prove it,” I said.



“Anything Master.”



I held up my fingers in front of her, five on each hand. “Lick them.”



One had been up her bum. She knew that. And I knew how she had safe –worded out at the thought of cleaning them before.



“Let’s make a game of it slave. We’ll go one for one. You start, pick a finger and lick it. Then you pick one for me and I’ll lick it. And we’ll keep going like that ’til between us, we’ve licked them all.”



She licked my thumb. That was a fairly safe bet. She then chose my right index finger for me to lick. She didn’t know which one had been inside her, but I did. And it wasn’t that one. I licked it and made a yucky face and spluttered in disgust to make her believe I had used the obvious finger.



She giggled and wrapped her legs around me as we tread water face to face.



“Go on slave. Next finger.”



“But Master, I thought …”



“Next finger.”



“Yes Master.”



She wasn’t sure now. Had I tasted the bum finger or not? She chose my other thumb and made me lick my left index finger. I just smiled that time. Next she went for the third finger on my left hand. No, not that one either. If only she had gone for the third on my right hand, she would have tasted it then.



She had me suck the middle finger on my right hand, while she went for – yes – bum finger. She tasted it in horror and stuck out her tongue and shrieked.



“Well done slave. I’ll reward you for that.”



I dived down under the water and came up between her legs once again, but this time I was at her back exit and I used my tongue to poke into her little rosebud. Her legs kicked under water and I held on firm to her hips and licked my way up her backside.



I came up for air and swam around in front of Mom. “Kiss me slave. Kiss me.”



She looked into my eyes. And went for it. Now we both sampled the taste of Mom’s bum. And we discovered that far from being gross, it was actually quite sexy. “Put your finger up my bum slave. And lick it.”



“Master?”



I looked at her with raised eyebrows.



“Yes Master.” She did as I directed. I was so hard.



“Do it again slave, but put the finger in my mouth.”



“Yes Master.”



I sucked her finger and wouldn’t let go. I just kept licking and sucking and slurping. Then I kissed her mouth and felt between my legs for my cock and positioned it in between Mom’s legs on the underside of her fanny.



“Mom. I mean slave. You know I want you, don’t you? I want inside you.”



“I know Babes, but … we can’t, we can’t ever. You know that don’t you?”



“But why Mom? We’ve done so much already. We can’t pretend that we haven’t, because we have. I’ve licked you, front and back, my fingers have been inside you. I’ve kissed every part of you, you’ve sucked my cock, we’ve come on each other, we’ve come all over each other. Why Mom, why can’t we?”



“Because you’re my son and … I can’t fuck my son, I just can’t. Don’t ask me to Babes, please don’t ask me, because …”



“Because what Mom?”



She didn’t answer.



“Because what Mom?”



She breathed heavily. “Because it’s taking all of my resolve to say no to you. I want it. I want it as badly as you do. I want to feel this …” She felt for my cock and began to stroke it. “… Inside me. I want you to fill me, stretch me. I want you to fuck my fucking brains out. I do. I truly do. But I can’t. You have to understand Babes. Mothers and sons just don’t fuck. It might happen on those websites, but they’re just stories Babes, they’re just fantasies. It’s my fantasy, it’s your fantasy, but that’s how it’s got to stay, just our fantasy. Anything else … I will do with you. I will deny you nothing … but that.”



I nodded my head. I understood. And while it didn’t dissolve my desire, it at least made living with it easier, knowing that Mom wanted it every bit as much as I did, she was just remaining strong for the both of us.



“Come on Babes, let’s call it a day for today.”



We swam around to the ladder at the back of the boat and climbed back on board. We walked into the saloon naked and dried each other off with towels.



Mom walked over to the draining board and rummaged into the condiment saucepan and pulled out a pat of butter. She looked at me with a glint in her eyes and went down into her bedroom and left the door open for me.



“Are you coming or not Babes?”



“I’m coming Mom.”



Mom was kneeling on the bed, her left elbow on the mattress, so too her head. Her bum was poking up in the air and she had the whole butter pat on the end of her right index finger, feeling around in her butt crack. She was spreading the butter all over her little pucker hole.



“Fill me with your seed, my son.”



“Mom!”



I ran over to the bed and tackled her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her onto her side, “Mommy!” I cried. “I want you. I need you Mom. Please, just hold me.”



I was sobbing. Mom lifted herself up and held me to her bosom while my tears ran down her breasts. I just couldn’t deal with it. I was so utterly overcome with emotion at the sight of what my mother would do for me, the extremes she would go to because of the love she had for me. “Mommy.”



“There there, baby boy. Mommy’s got you. Mommy’s got you.”



She kissed the top of my head while I just cuddled in her arms. I was such a baby. In that moment, that’s all I could be. I was simply unable to react any other way. I needed my Mommy. I needed her more than anything. And in that moment, that’s just what she became.







Chapter 22



“Come on now Babes.” I stroked his cheek. “Feeling better?”



“I’m sorry Mom.”



“Babes. You never have to say sorry to me, not now, not ever. You are the light of my life.”



“I love you Mom.”



I squeezed him tight and then got back onto my knees. I felt my bottom and it was still slick with butter. “Come on now lover, put your cock in Mommy’s arse. You know you want to!”



He knelt behind me and I felt the tip of his cock prodding at my tight little hole.



“Easy now stallion.”



God that didn’t feel right. “Hang on, hang on Babes. Pull out a bit and try again.”



He pushed in again. It felt so tight and so, just not right. I tried to relax, thinking that might be it. He just didn’t seem to be making any headway. I was about to ask him to pull out again when suddenly he flew inside. Just whoosh, like that, right the way in, all the way.



I knelt there with my eyes shut, picturing myself as my son, fucking me up the arse, imagining I had the cock. He reached around for my nipples and planted soft, loving kisses all down my back. Then I felt his hand wrap around my stomach as he humped away. Slap, slap, slap went my titties and his balls as he filled me; then a slippery tight clench from my ass as his cock threatened to vacate my premises, before refilling me. I loved the slap of his balls on my vulva, but it was definitely the outstroke that was doing it for me. My bum hole felt all tingly, but sadly, I felt very little else sexually.



He only lasted a few minutes before I knew he was unloading his creamy, white goodness inside of me. He went still and his cock just seemed to heave in my anus.



He slipped out and a moment later, I felt his tongue, right where his cock had just been. Now that was an altogether different feeling. That was naughty, that was dirty, that was – fucking delicious. My whole body came alive with his loving licks.



I moaned as his fingers reached to my front, his thumb entering me, his forefinger rubbing back and forth on my hood, the two seemed to connect somewhere deep inside me. I don’t know if he knew what he was doing, but I think for the first time in my life, someone had found my G spot. So the damn thing did exist after all. Well, blow me!



George had never found it, I’d never found it, but my son had certainly found something. That was soooo good. So very, very good. Licking, stroking, rubbing, three different intimate parts of my body. And then –



SLAP.



He smacked my backside and stopped all other stimulation.



“No orgasm for you slave. It’s not time.”



Oh fuck no.



Once again, he tied me up in my bedroom, wrists cuffed to my neck collar. He shut the door, leaving me naked on my bed.



“Get some rest slave. We don’t want you passing out later.”



I heard the engine start up and we set off once more.



Oh God. It was two days now, two full days of sexual frustration. He had teased me, taunted me, pleasured me to the brink and not beyond. I had been naked in public, humiliated, filmed, shaved, slapped, spanked, filled, licked in places I’d never wanted to be licked, licked things I’d never wanted to lick, had food shoved in parts of my anatomy, eaten food off my son’s cock. And all without orgasm. I needed a fucking orgasm and I needed my fucking orgasm now.



I howled away at him for some reciprocated pleasure. All he did was enter my cabin, put the ball gag in my mouth, put my blindfold on and whisper that he loved me. He fondled my breasts and kissed my bare vulva and then he was gone.







Chapter 23



It broke my heart to leave my Mom go hungry like that. All I could hope was that what I had in store for her later would more than make up for all the teasing.



Right now, the boat just wouldn’t go fast enough. Not that it mattered. I’d arranged something for a certain time tonight and going faster wasn’t going to make a whole lot of difference on that front. Still, I felt hopeful that everything would pay off when we reached the south shore of Loch Ness, near where we had moored three nights earlier.



At a quarter to seven, I began preparing Mom. I temporarily removed her blindfold and sat her up. Looking into her eyes, I told her just what she meant to me and assured her I didn’t love her any less because she wouldn’t let me fuck her.

Once again, I lubed her ass and inserted the butt plug. I cuffed her wrists to her sides with the belt and gave her a quick, teasing buzz with the clit massager. Then, back in with the ball gag, on with the blindfold and I also inserted her ear plugs.



I positioned her centrally on the bed, with her legs splayed and pointing at the door. Then I brought out the one remaining toy I hadn’t shown her and I began to rub it on her body.



I loved teasing her without her knowing what it was. I teased her entrance, splayed wide for all the world to see, then I dragged it up her body, across her breasts, over her face, before placing it in her hand. And let go.



I stood there and watched her caress it, let her figure out what it was. Then I took it from her and inserted it where she wouldn’t let me go.



God, there was so much of it. I think it stuck out of my Mom’s slippery goodness further than it could have been inside. At least half of it was sticking out of her like an erection. A big, black erection. Yes, I’d bought her the twelve inch!



At seven o’clock, good to their word, my guests arrived.



I offered them drinks in the saloon but I knew they were excited and wanted to get right to it. I opened Mom’s cabin door and allowed them a peak inside, to whet their appetites. Then I went over a few things with them. This time, I was going to allow them to go much further than they had gone before.



I explained that I’d left the toys out and they could use any and all that they wanted. They could spank any sexual part of her with the paddle, tie her up however they wanted, play with the dildo, activate the butt plug, use the clit massager, remove the ball gag and kiss her, or put something in her mouth. They just couldn’t remove the blindfold or earplugs. Not yet anyway.



I’d set the tripod up in one corner, but for now, I would just hold the camcorder and film freehand.



There was just one slightly awkward thing to despatch with. We all took another sip from our drinks and set about stripping off in front of each other.



I’m sure the lesbians had seen each other nude before. And they weren’t likely going to be interested in me and what I had, but they were most definitely interested in Mom.



As the second lesbian had her wicked way with Mom in the window the other day, the first made me an offer that was difficult to refuse. She’d said, if we were ever coming back this way again, to give her a call – and we’d play.



And now, it was time to play.



They didn’t know that Mom was my Mom, as far as they knew, we were just a dominant and submissive, albeit, a slightly older one. I had asked just one thing of them – could they make out like there was just one person in the room. I wanted Mom to think it was just me in there, at least for the time being.



I could hold them off no longer and they were perfectly content to let me film everything as I had let them film the other day. Quid pro quo. Besides, they would be getting a copy via email a few days from now anyway.



The first lesbian – Louise, who had short brown hair on her head but none elsewhere on her body, dropped to her knees and blew between Mom’s legs, playing briefly with the cock before slipping it out and taking a long slurp of it. I was so looking forward to this. If I was sure of one thing, it was that lesbians knew exactly how to please women sexually. My Mom was surely in for a treat – and that was before any of the other stuff took effect.



The second lesbian with the long blonde hair had a dark brown bush that looked very much like Mom’s had before I shaved her. It was a classic case of curtains not matching the carpet. It surprised the hell out of me when Maya, her name, put her hand on her head and removed her hair. It was a wig. She was completely shaved up on top.



To say my jaw dropped almost to the floor and my dick sprung six foot into the air at the sight of what I witnessed next would be nothing short of understatement. Not only was her hair removable, her bush was too. She was wearing a merkin. Fuck me. I’d never seen anything like it. I was fascinated with it and picked it up to get a closer look.



Maya knelt down behind Louise and began massaging her tits as Lou tenderly danced up and down the sides of Mom’s vagina, where leg met crotch.



Mom was enjoying. That I could see. She was glistening down there and not just from Louise’s saliva. She used nothing but her mouth, whether it was to blow or lick, no hands, no nothing, just mouth. I squatted down as I zoomed in on Louise taking Mom’s labia in her teeth, ever so lightly, her touch exquisite, Mom’s movements giving her away, the pleasure she was feeling was intense and it was only just beginning.



Suddenly, I felt a hand cupping my balls as they hung between my legs and then another hand tugging back my shaft skin to expose my head. I took my eyes away from the view screen and both lesbians were looking right at me and smiling, each one using one of their hands on me. Fuck me.



They switched places and Maya now took her turn between Mom’s legs while Louise took Mom’s breast in her hand and began to tease it, tug at her nipple, roll it between her thumb and forefinger, pinch a little. Mom arched her back and let out a little moan through her gag.



Maya stepped back and wrapped her arms around Louise and they used a hand each to caress both of Mom’s breasts simultaneously. Then they took it in turns to lick Mom’s breasts, quickly alternating, swirling their tongues around her nipples. Next they stroked the sides of Mom’s face and Maya removed Mom’s ball gag.



The first word out of Mom’s mouth was fuck. And then she moaned a heavenly moan. She knew she was finally going to be getting off. Maya kissed her and plunged her tongue slowly into Mom’s mouth while looking directly at the camera, a saucy grin on her face.



Louise licked her finger and dipped it into Mom’s mouth. Mom’s tongue shot out, wriggling around, looking for it. It found Maya’s tongue. Louise was now stroking down the sides of Moms body, the gentlest of touches, just breezy, flowing down the contours of her breast.



The two women stood to the side and looked at each other, without saying a word, they smiled, Maya putting her finger in her own mouth, playfully biting it. The girls had a plan. A telepathic one.



Louise stepped between Mom’s legs and plunged her finger inside Mom’s vagina. At the same time, Maya was doing the same thing to herself. When Lou removed her finger from Mom, Maya dipped her own finger into Mom’s mouth, giving her a taste of another woman’s sex, for probably the first time in her life.



Louise licked her own finger and tasted Mom’s sex, then they switched and did the same thing over. My cock was bobbing and throbbing and there was no way I was going to touch it because the last thing in the world I wanted to do now was come – before this show was over.



Mom was teased enough. Her first orgasm was only moments away. The girls knew it and gave me the nod. It was time to push Mom right over the edge. Louise came and knelt between Mom’s legs again and began gently blowing on her hot sex. Maya positioned herself higher up Mom’s body, at the ready, I put the camcorder on the tripod and knelt next to Louise.



Louise began to eat out Mom’s pussy. As her climax approached, Mom wriggled and moaned. “Oh yes, yes Master, yes Master, please, please, pleeeaaaassse.”



That was my moment. I sucked on Mom’s big toe. Louise kept munching away and Maya took Mom’s breast in her mouth too.



Mom barely had time to react or figure out how she had three tongues on her, all at once. She screamed out in ecstasy, nothing but incoherent, carnal grunts.



I stopped sucking on Mom’s toe and went and kissed her mouth. At the same time I pulled out her earplugs.



“Babes. Babes … what … who’s here? Babes?”



“Relax slave.” I almost called her Mom. “Just enjoy.”



I went back to sucking on her toe as Louise dug deep in Mom’s vagina and now used her fingers too, some inside of Mom, stroking as she licked, but also strumming with her other hand right across Mom’s clit hood.



Maya was now kissing Mom’s mouth and fondling both of her breasts. And I continued to suck on her toes and caress her legs. There were just too many hands and too many tongues on Mom for her to understand what was going on. All she could do was scream out her joy.



“Babes. Babes please, show me who else is here.”



Maya looked at me and I nodded. She removed Mom’s blindfold. I don’t know what Mom thought when she saw these two women, she hadn’t seen them in the flesh on Tuesday, but she had seen both their faces on the video, though Maya now had her hair removed.



Mom’s head shot back onto the pillow as she started to come again, loudly.



Louise laughed as she continued to curl just the one finger inside Mom. She took it out and covered her middle two fingers with lube and put them both inside Mom. She then started to vibrate her hand so fast I couldn’t keep track of it. Maya took the paddle in her hand and began slapping Mom’s breasts with it. I went back to the camcorder and moved around for the best view.



Mom’s groaning became harsh and for a moment I thought she was in some distress. Just then, Louise removed her hand from Mom’s vagina and Mom yelped, simultaneously releasing a gush of water from between her legs and sending her whole lower body into spasm.



She was a squirter. My Mom was a squirter and I didn’t know it. It took a lesbian.



That was the moment that I decided God really was a lesbian after all. Because she made me come too. I hadn’t touched my dick for fear of coming too soon, but now I was feeling the inevitable urge and my dick was shooting spunk all over Mom’s leg and Louise’s face. Oh God, I hope she wasn’t angry.



Far from. She shuffled over to me and began sucking every last drop out of me. All the while, Mom and Maya watched on. When she was done, Louise lay directly on top of Mom, pussy to pussy, breast to breast, face to face.



“Do you want to lick your boy’s cum off my face? You ARE his mother, aren’t you?”



Mom and I were both shocked. I think Mom was shocked that I had told her such a thing, but I hadn’t. She’d worked it out all on her own, or was just guessing and being mischievous.



I didn’t have chance to say anything, because if there was one thing Mom loved, it was my cum.



I could go on and describe everything that happened to Mom and me and the two lesbians that night, but what would be the point? We had an orgy. Orgasms aplenty, no one missed out and no one was anything but completely satisfied. All the toys came into action and played their part. Everybody got to use at least one each.



The dildo did its share of fucking, the butt plug hummed away inside Mom on maximum setting, the clit massager saw action on all three women, I even got a taste of my own medicine as the three of them held me down and spanked me with the paddle – and gave me a taste of the ball gag and blindfold, collar and cuffs too.



I came four times, I shot my spunk onto every one of the women and I know for absolute certain, I was the one who had the fewest orgasms that night. I just couldn’t take anymore. But the women were insatiable. They came and came and came for hours after I had to stop.



All in all, I recorded five hours of camcorder footage. It was the wildest night of my life and Mom had the ride of her life. She may not have passed out as I think she might have been hoping, but she was certainly grateful.



It may have been a simple thing, but as we all sat around naked and spent in the saloon, all curtains closed, Mom sat in my arms on one side of the dinette as the two lesbians curled up together on their side. Mom turned to me and with tears in her eyes, she said, “Thank you Babes. From the bottom of my heart and with all my love, thank you.”







Chapter 24



Summer was half over, it was early August. My son had offers from three universities, all firm offers. He already had his A level grades and so wasn’t in limbo like this years A level students. He had a pretty good idea which one he was going to accept – the one closest to home – the one closest to Mommy.



We had continued to play our games at home. George was in work every day and most days, my boy and I played. We hadn’t done anything quite as adventurous as we had in Scotland, not even on our final short trip to North Wales.



Well, there was that one night – shall I tell you about that?



Oh, go on then. It was nothing really, my son had ordered me naked, except for a pair of heels and a mac. We went out on the town and every time he gave the command, I had to open up my mac and flash whoever was nearby. I flashed people on a bus, in a restaurant, in a bookstore and on the street. I must have flashed about a hundred people.



Afterwards, I put on the new belt attachment my son had bought that turned my dildo into a strap on. I buttered my boy’s backside and fucked him up his arse, all the while jerking his cock with my hand. That’s all, it was nothing really.



No. What we had done though, was become lovers, just enjoying each other.



We made love and slept together when we could, we spent lots of time naked and there was no shortage of orgasms. Even though we did do a little bondage now and then, none of that was a priority anymore. We just wanted to be together. Maybe once a week we would play the slave/master game, but truthfully, it was pretty much out of my system and had been replaced by a relationship of pure love.



But we still hadn’t fucked.



If truth be told, this was my biggest issue and the only thing that caused me any sleeplessness. I was wavering. I would think over it in bed each night with George – who incidentally, had no idea I was shaved now. Whenever George and I had sex, which was not that often at all anymore, I wore the merkin that Maya had given me. It was quite easy to glue on and George was none the wiser. He never licked me down there anymore anyway.



But I had this dilemma. Just why was I keeping the one true love of my life from fucking me? My son was the only man in the world I actually wanted to fuck and our relationship was stronger than ever. It just seemed natural to want to do it now. My son was my lover, why shouldn’t we go all the way? I was pretty sure I was going to let him before summer was out – a going away present.



Not that he was going away. The university he had all but chosen was eight miles away and he had decided to live at home. Still, it was something I wanted to give him.



My son had an idea when we got home from Scotland. He said, the way of life we had was thanks in no small part to the website. Even though I hardly ever looked there anymore – stories just didn’t cut it any longer, he suggested we give something back.



Literotica had brought us together and maybe we should write our own story – write it together, each from our own point of view.



“Babes,” I said. “I’m not a typist. It will take me forever.”



“Don’t worry Mom. You can dictate it to me. Or write it longhand and I’ll type it up. You could even try that dictation software on your tablet. Voice recognition is pretty good these days.”



So that’s what we did. Some days we wrote together, some days we wrote apart. He read my stuff, I read his. And as the days and weeks past, we had quite a story. We didn’t know what category to put it in though. We figured some readers might be purists and be put off if there was incest in the BDSM category or vice versa. The way our relationship had developed, I was leaning to the incest category which I’d even started reading – now that I knew the psychology of it and all! Anyway, we would just see how it goes and work it out when the time got closer that we’d want to publish.



There was just one other thing I needed to write about – the most intense sexual experience of my life. It had eclipsed everything that had gone before and came at the end of a day when we actually did play the slave/master game. Let me tell you about it.



Tuesday.



“What are you thinking of today Mom?”



“I don’t know Babes, I um …” I was thinking if today should be the day.



“How about you be my slave?”



“I’m not sure Babes. It doesn’t really do it for me anymore.” Of course it didn’t. My fantasy now was to have my son’s cock in my cunt. There, I said it. Cunt. What a foul word. Cunt.



Cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt!



I laughed. He had no idea what I was thinking.



“How about we up the ante Mom?”



“How so Babes?”



“I take away your safe word.”



“How would that work? I haven’t used a safe word since … since, um …”



“Since I tried to get you to pierce your clit.”



“Yes. Since then.” I failed him that day. He’d been so looking forward to it. He had dreams of piercing my nipples and my clit and belly button and having a chain run between them that he could pull me around by.



The idea had turned me on, but I didn’t want George to find out. How was I going to explain a forty year old woman suddenly wanting her tits pierced to him? But my clit. George barely even knew where it was. He hadn’t sought it out in ages and he could probably go years without seeing it again.



I was in the chair, spread-eagled nude for some tattoed, mohicaned kid with more metalwork in his head than Metal Mickey. If you don’t know who that is, Mickey was a robot on a TV series we had in Britain when I was a schoolgirl. All the kids watched it, shit though it was. It was also the name we gave to any kid who wore braces on their teeth.



The bloke though, his eyebrows were pierced, his ears had great big holes that you could almost squeeze a golf ball through, his nose had a bar through it, he had spikes at the bridge of his nose, I lost count of the number of rings he had in his lower lip and his chin also had a spike and his tongue had something in it too; he wore rubber gloves and was clearly trying to grow a moustache, but the moment I felt the tongs go on my hood and he marked his target with a pen, I had to safe-word out.



“So how about it Mom? Just around the house, but no safe word. What could possibly go wrong?”



“Just what does no safe word mean?”



“It means if you use one Mom, I’ll never play with you again. It’ll be over.”



I laughed at him. “You’d come crawling back to me in days.”



“Yeah? Wanna put it to the test, sexy Momma?”



The day was fairly uneventful. I had my share of spankings. He’d tied me up, tied me down, just the usual. It was all kind of ordinary and quite mundane now. I was going to tell him I didn’t get a thrill from it anymore.



When George came home, early.



“I don’t release you slave.”



“Master. Please.”



“No.”



“Babes. Your father’s home. Let me go.”



“No. And you call me Master.”



“Master please.”



“Don’t you dare move slave. You stand right there.”



“Son? Sweetheart? I’m home. Where is everyone?”



He pointed his finger at me. I couldn’t easily move anyway. George was in the living room and I’d have to go past him to get up the stairs to dress. And there simply was nothing I could put on in the kitchen.



“Slave. Go stand in the larder.”



This wasn’t funny.



“Quick slave, Dad’s coming.”



I hurried into the larder and shut the door.



I stood there, feeling the chill, in nothing but my collar, belt and cuffs. My wrists were tied to my waist, but behind my back and to opposite sides of the belt. And of course, I was pube free. My husband had never seen me that way before. I was panicking. George walked into the kitchen. I could hear him through the door talking to our son.



“Home early today Dad?”



“Yeah. There was a fire in the building and all the sprinklers went off.”



“No way.”



“I kid you not.”



“Is there much damage? Has it burned down?”



“No. it was just a small fire. It’s ironic, but most of the damage will have been caused by the sprinkler system. Water damage.”

“Shit!”



“Yeah! Anyway, where’s your mother?”



“Don’t know. Haven’t see her since lunch. Upstairs I think.”



“Oh, I’d better go see her.”



A moment later, my son opened the door to the larder. I was panicking like mad. All my boy did was smile and give me a kiss. Then shut the door again.



“Sweetie. You up there?”



George came back into the kitchen.



“Are you sure she’s upstairs?”



“No. I just, I don’t know. I thought that’s where she was. Maybe she popped out. Shirley Madison was on the phone earlier, maybe she went round there.”



“Maybe. Grab us a cold one will you?”



“Sure Dad. Oh wait. There’s none left. I had the last one earlier.”



“Are there any in the larder?”



“Yeah, two boxes.”



“Great. Want one?”



“Sure.”



Oh fuck. I heard George’s footsteps come closer to the larder door. I felt his hand grasp the handle. I was royally screwed here. How was I ever going to explain this?



“Oh wait Dad. Mom must have restocked the fridge. There’s a bunch in here.”



He released the handle and walked away. Phew!



I could hear my husband and son talking, but they’d moved towards the back door and I couldn’t discern what they were talking about.



“I’ll go check now. It’s in my office.”



The larder door opened. My son grabbed my arm and pulled me out.



“Stay behind me slave and do as I say.” He turned to me and kissed me again. “Trust me Mom. If there’s one time in your life that you’re ever going to trust me, now is that time.” He kissed me once more and felt between my legs.



“Mmm. You’re really enjoying this,” he said.



“Don’t Babes. Please. Let me go.”



He shook his head.



“Trust me. Just … trust me, okay? I love you.”



My son stopped dead in the living room and reached out behind himself to pull me into his shadow.



“Yeah. I’ve got it here. Um … next Saturday.”



“Can we go Dad? Can we?”



“You’ll have to ask your mother. You know I don’t make the decisions around here, it’s just not worth my while!”



Why that! Just wait ’til I get my hands on him.



George went back into his office and my son turned me around and pushed me back through the kitchen door.



“Unlock me Master, please.”



“It looks like you’re going to have to go around slave.”



“What?” He couldn’t be serious.



“Babes, no. I’ll use the safe word.”



“Then mother and son is all we’ll ever be again. I won’t play with you. I won’t. Do this for me. Prove to me once and for all what I mean to you. Prove your subservience to me and I will never doubt you again. In fact, you can be my master and I’ll be your slave and we can play this game from a whole new angle. Please … Mom … go around.”



“Babes. I can’t. Suppose someone sees me.”



“That’s a risk you’re going to have to take Mom. Go around, I’ll sneak into the living room and release your cuffs and you can go upstairs and get dressed. Time to decide Mom, I can hear Dad coming.”



I headed for the pantry and he blocked my path. “You’re not going in there Mom. You either stand here naked in front of Dad and face the music, or you go around. The back door’s open. You’ve got about three seconds.”



I scarpered out the back door as fast as my legs would carry me. I hid behind the wall, looking out onto our rear lawn. I think I was going to have a heart attack. My hands were tied behind my back and every inch of my body was on display. I was naked, outdoors, in my own neighbourhood.



I could hear George and my son laughing indoors and I knew the longer I stayed out here, the more chance there was of getting caught. I ducked my head and crept under the windowsill, finding myself in the passage between house and garage. I had to turn around to lift the lever on our iron side gate then peeked through into the street, looking across the road in our quiet avenue for any signs of life.



Shit. Mrs. Gunderson was tending to her violas, next door. And the paperboy was on his bike delivering the Evening Post. I slunk back in behind the wall and counted to ten.



Oh crap. I could hear George in the garden. He was coming around the corner. I darted out towards the front of the house and ran, with my hands behind my back, tits jiggling, up the step onto the front porch, then ducked down behind the shrubs.



I poked my head up to see if anyone had seen me. The paperboy was still on his bicycle and not in a heap on the floor, so I was probably safe there. And Gooch-eye Gunderson was still on her knees. I couldn’t see anyone else, so I turned to face the street and felt for the door handle and turned it, stepping inside and shut the door behind me.



I heard a shout from the back garden and next thing I knew my son was standing in the doorway. “Yeah Dad, it’s Mom, she came in the front way.”



He walked over to me, felt between my legs. I was saturated. My sex was dripping out of me. He licked it off his fingers, delved in with his other hand and fed me a mouthful too.



“I love you so very much Mom, you’re my hero. I release you.” He released my hands from the belt. “Now go on upstairs before Dad sees you. I’ll make some excuse. Go on beautiful, go!” He slapped my bum.



When I came back downstairs, dressed, my son gave me an odd expression and made his way over to me, blocking me from his father’s view. In my haste, I’d forgotten to take off my slave collar. My boy wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me on the cheek as he undid my collar from the back, sweeping it off behind my back and tucking it away out of sight.



“I love you Mom,” he said out loud for his father to hear.



“Love you too Babes.” I smiled and walked over to George, who kissed me.



“You’re home early today hon’. Quiet day?”



“Just the opposite. Building burnt down.”



“What?!”



He laughed. “No, just a little fire.”



“You’re kidding me?”



He shook his head.



I had to play things by ear for a little while to see what excuse my son had made for me going upstairs. But everything was fine. George was none the wiser and I’d just had the thrill of my life. Did this mean I was now a danger junkie as well?



That night, after George and I had gone to bed, I needed sex. I needed it more than I think I’d ever needed it in my life, even more than at the end of my two sex starved days in Scotland. And I’d come twice at my son’s hand this afternoon. But I needed it bad. And I didn’t want it from George. I wanted it from my son.



I waited for George to go to sleep. That’s one thing I will say about him – once he drifts off, he’s blotto for the night. I snuck out of bed and walked into my son’s room. He was lying naked on his bed, erection in his hand, puddle of semen on his belly. I walked over to him and my eyes grew twice in size when I saw all that cum laying there, ripe for the taking.



I lifted my nightie over my head and dropped it on the floor. He was holding something in his hand and I grabbed it off him. It was a picture of me. Just me. A headshot and nothing else. God, I loved him. I leaned over my boy and slurped all his cum off his body and swallowed the lot. I knelt down on him and shoved my pussy in his face, pulling at his hair to plough him into me.



“Mom. The door’s wide open.”



I turned to look at it. I’d left my bedroom door open too, right across the hallway from my son’s room. “Fuck it!”



I pulled him into me. “Eat me you little bastard. After what you did to me today, you owe me … BIG TIME!”



“Yes Mistress,” he said. It took all my strength not to laugh out loud.



“Stick your tongue in me slave. Fuck your mistresses slot with your tongue. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” I began strumming my clit like there was no tomorrow.



Within a minute, I was gushing. My boy’s face was dripping wet, his hair was wet, his pillow, my thighs, his neck. And I was still squirting all over him, a steady stream into his mouth. Fuck. I’d never done anything like this before in my life.



My legs were shaking like crazy, my bum was wobbling, I was losing control of my body. I felt dizzy, I was going, I was going, “Baby.”



I fainted.



“Mom. Mom!”



My son was tapping lightly on my cheek.



“Mom. Mom.”



I was gradually coming to.



“Oh my God Mom. I didn’t know what to do. I was going to get Dad.”



“Babes.” I had to figure out where I was. “What? Why? What happened?”



“Mom. You went down like a sack of spuds. You’ve been out like a light for ten minutes. I threw water on your face and everything. I just couldn’t get you to wake up. I was so worried. Don’t do that to me again.”



The tears were dripping off his face.



“C’m'ere Babes.” I wrapped him in my arms and stroked the back of his head.



And smiled contentedly. Now I knew what it was like to have an orgasm so intense, it caused me to faint. I was in the club. Hoo-fucking-ray!







Chapter 25



I spent most of Wednesday and Thursday typing up Mom’s notes, so they were up to date with my own. I was looking forward to posting our story. I had tried to interest Mom in posting one of her videos to one of the other websites we had looked at together – for research of course, purely ideas, not some other – okay, I’ll admit it, Mom and I sat naked watching porn on the internet together. But that’s just something all mothers and sons do. Isn’t it?



Friday was the end of the week and the monster trucks were in town the next day. Me, Mom and Dad – and Bigfoot. I’d always wanted to see a monster truck in real life, so that was going to be so cool.



But it meant Mom and I had Friday to ourselves. Dad was in work. He’d been in work late every night since the fire – Mom told you about that, in the last part.



I was having a lie in. Mom knocked on my door. “You getting up today Babes?”



“Yeah Mom. Just give me a few minutes.”



She walked over to the bed, lifted the covers and settled in next to me. A second later she had her hand on my penis. Now I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but – Mom kind of made fun of me.



“Where’s it gone?”



“Har har Mom. Very droll.”



She smiled at me with her eyes and gave me a peck on the lips.



“No. I’m serious. Has it turned inside out?”



She flung off my covers and sat up to look at my little willy. It wasn’t much soft, I’ll admit that, just about, though not to anyone I know. Rock hard – it was impressive, like internet porn star impressive. Soft – I was like a girl with a very big clit.



Anyway, Mom played around with me, but I was failing to get hard. I don’t know why, I just, wasn’t in the mood. Even when Mom’s head dropped onto it and she took it all easily in her mouth. The size it was, she could probably have got six in there.



I’m not trying to be funny, this is just the chapter that – well, it’s the last chapter. And it’s the hardest one to write – because a lot has happened. And I know what’s coming and I don’t have a clue how I’m going to hold myself together to write it.



Right, Mom sucking on my balls. Not getting much of a response out of me. She even pulled me back to expose my baby mushroom. She looked at it, all forlorn. And then the skin that was tucked back behind the lip just flopped forward and rolled back over my head, all of its own accord.



“Babes. What’s wrong?”



“I was just lying here Mom, thinking.”



“About what?”



“About my dreams. My life. What I want.”



She could tell by the tone of my voice that I was melancholy and she came back up to my chest and lay her head down next to me and began running her fingers through the hairs around my nipples.



“It’s just that … Mom. The thing that I want more than anything is the one thing I can’t have. And everything else … it’s not even second best, Mom. It’s not third best, it’s not fourth best. It’s last. Everything else is in joint last place. Because first place is you Mom. You’re the only thing in this world that I really, truly want.”



Tears were flowing from my eyes, I could feel them. When Mom smiled, it just made me sadder, because she was just so damn, fucking beautiful. She tapped me on the chest, got out of bed and stood there. Looking at me.



Mom had taken to wearing shirts more. We’d had an alright summer – by British standards, it had only rained half the days and dipped into single digit temperatures every other day, rather than every day. But she was wearing thinner clothes, but fewer dresses. She was taking me literally. In Scotland, when we went out but I didn’t release her as a slave, I had told her to wear that shirt skirt thing she had and do her surrogate collar up.



Now back home, as a playful display of subservience to me, that only I would know about, Mom was wearing shirts and doing her top button up. It was even sort of coming back into fashion and when Mom and I would go out together, we wondered if all the girls who were dressing similarly were playing their own dominant/submissive games.



So Mom stood there. She had on a pale blue cotton shirt that was sleeveless. It had a white collar. And she had on a simple grey skirt, but was wearing braces, red ones, over her shoulders, clipped onto her skirt, a perfect match, colour wise, for the tie she had on, which was done up just shy of her collar.



Anyway, my Mom was stunning in her stealth subservience look – almost like she’d come off the catwalk in Paris or Milan or I don’t know, I’m not into fashion. She slid the braces off her shoulders and unhooked the clasp on her short straight skirt, unzipped it and let it all fall to her feet. Then she lifted the tie over her head and unbuttoned her shirt from the bottom up.



She didn’t have a stitch on underneath, no panties, no bra. She stood before me in all her glory and I thought she was teasing me – as she’d taken to in the last couple of days since I told her she could be mistress and I would be slave.



I turned over onto my side, facing away from her and shut my eyes.



“Hey, hey, Babes. Come on now. Cheer up chook!”



“I want you Mom. I want you.”



“I know Babes. And I want you. Why do you suppose I’m standing here waiting for you?”



“What?”



“I’m waiting for you Babes. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck your Mommy.”



“Don’t tease Mom.”



She stood there and put her fingers in her pussy and spread her lips. “Wake up that thing between your legs and stick it …” She pointed. “Right here.”



I stood to attention in one second flat. She smiled. “Come on Babes. Mommy’s waiting.”



“Are you serious Mom?” I was on my knees in front of her, looking up into her eyes.



She nodded. “I’m serious Babes.” She shrugged. “If you want to, you know … you don’t have to.”



I sprung to my feet and scooped her off hers. I carried her to her room. We’d never done much in there, we’d certainly never done anything in her bed. I placed her down gently and she kicked all the freshly made covers out from underneath her. She lay back and spreadeagled herself, flinging her head and arms back.



“Take me son, I’m yours.”



I didn’t need to be told twice. I lay down between Mom’s legs and began licking her. She was already wet with anticipation, but I was going to make this memorable. I took my time, just sucking on her lips with my lips, exploring gently with my tongue.



I’d been online and looked at the anatomy of a woman’s good bits. (They’re all good bits. A woman is a whole. She’s a package. Face, eyes, body, breasts, pussy, bottom, legs. But also her mind, her soul, her wit and charm, her tenderness, softness and caring, the way she’s always there for you, the way she makes you want to always be there for her, her intelligence, her brightness, her vitality, her sex appeal. Everything that it is to be a woman – sheer greatness. I feel inadequate in their presence, I truly do. There is nothing finer on this Earth – than WOMAN. She alone who is trusted to carry mankind’s future – humanity’s womb. I envy woman.)



But yes, I’d looked up the really good parts, but only because I wanted to be able to pleasure Mom like those lesbians, Louise and Maya, had in Scotland.



I learned that man and woman were not so different in the size of their sex organs. Okay, so the man had more sticky out bits, but the woman’s clitoris was a lot bigger than just a little erectile nub at the top of her vagina. It was actually more like a penis, with the shaft split in two, those two sides running down each side of a woman’s opening. The largest part was just hidden behind her labia. It was fully operational, it was erectile and everything, it caused her lips to get puffy when sexually excited. There really was more to a woman’s package than met the eye.



So I went for full stimulation. I played around with Mom down there for ages. Licking, rubbing, caressing, lots of things ending with -ing. I gave her two orgasms before I’d gone anywhere near her with my rod.



I worked my way up, stroking her body, her stomach, her breasts, kissing her neck, soaking up her essence. I lay on top of her, looked at her, looked at the expression of love on her face.



“Mom. I want to say something to you, I want to tell you something. There are three little words that I’ve used a lot. But I want to explain them to you, explain what they mean to me. Can I?”



Mom nodded and listened attentively beneath me.



“I don’t see love as a word Mom. I don’t see it as something you rationalise with your brain. I don’t think you do either, because we wouldn’t be here if either of us did. I see love as something you feel with your heart, you give yourself to it completely, go where it takes you and trust that it’s something greater than just you and me and have faith that it knows what’s best for us. I trust love Mom and I have never felt love anywhere near as strong as the love I feel for you. In my heart, in my bones, in my every breath, in my very essence and with every fibre of my being. I … love you … Mom.”



Then, for the first time, Mom reached between my legs for my penis and led it to her opening, eyeball to eyeball throughout, neither one of us deviated. I pushed inside her and the feeling I got was divine. It was home. It was where my penis truly belonged, I wished Mom could carry it always inside her for me. There simply was no other place in the universe, in all of God’s creation, that my penis ever wanted to be in again.



It didn’t want to be in my pants, it didn’t want to be in the fresh air, it didn’t want to be in my hand, it didn’t want to be in any other woman, it didn’t even want to be in Mom’s backside or her mouth. From this day on, it wanted to live inside my darling mother’s vagina. And so we were going to have a problem. Because we were going to look pretty funny walking around like Siamese twins, getting in the car, walking around the supermarket, sitting on the couch opposite Dad. It was just going to be awkward from here on out. My penis was exactly where it was going to stay. I was even going to go get some tape and wrap it around me and Mom, to facilitate our joining, our union, the embodiment of our future together.



I wasn’t exiting this hallowed ground not for all the money in the world. I felt sorry for the Rockefella’s and Rothschild’s of this world, all the billionaires in the fancy magazines showing off their fancy houses, with their fancy cars and their fancy yachts, they were never going to know the best thing on Earth, my Mom’s vagina.



Time stood still, time went backwards, time did some funny shit all of its own, Mom and me were living outside of time. We were just so wrapped up in each other, our eyes never parted, not once, other than to blink, the whole time we made love. And as for orgasms? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d ever had one before, because what I was having now, with Mom, was without end. It was a magic carpet of pure bliss. We relinquished our bodies and souls to love and let it take us on wings of ecstasy, beyond the forbidden zone.



We heard a thud and for the first moment in however long, our eyes parted.



“Oh my God. George,” Mom cried.



“Dad?” I looked around. Dad was in a heap on the bedroom floor. We both sprang out of bed, naked and rushed over to Dad, rolling him over onto his back. He was expressionless. And not breathing.

These stories will feature mature mothers with big, fake breasts enjoying the over-sized endowments of their sons. If that’s not something you want to read then go find something else on this excellent site.



Feedback is appreciated but don’t bitch about how unrealistic or clichéd the scenario is in the comments – - you’ll be wasting your time and mine.



Everyone involved is 18 or over.




† † † † †



When Samantha and Franklin pulled up outside their house it was just in time to see Trina, Adam’s girlfriend, storm out, slamming the door behind her. Without saying a word to them, she got in her own car and sped off down the street.



“She didn’t look happy,” Franklin said as they entered the house. “Adam? You here, son?” he called out.



“In the kitchen, dad,” Adam called in reply. Franklin and Samantha walked in to find him sat at the large table, a slightly bemused look on his face. Samantha smiled as she took in his large, muscular frame which was barely hidden beneath a white vest top and a small pair of shorts. She winked as he looked up at her.



“We just saw Trina leave in a hurry,” Franklin said. “Everything all right?”



“Yeah, I guess. Just – - we broke up,” Adam said with a shrug.



“Really? After all these years?” his father said. Adam and Trina had dated since high school and, as far as Franklin knew, they’d been set to get married at some point.



“Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea, right?” Samantha said as she walked past him, squeezing his shoulder in a comforting manner before fixing herself a cold drink.



“Do you – - do you need to – - ahh – - talk about it?” Franklin asked, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect.



“I could do with talking it over, dad,” Adam said, almost laughing at his father’s terrified expression. “I think Sammie might be better, though,” he said. “If that’s okay?”



“No, no, perfectly understandable,” Franklin said with barely disguised relief. “Maybe the pair of you could, ah, head out somewhere? You know, away from the scene of the, ah, scene of the crime. So to speak.”



“Oh Franklin, hush,” Samantha said. “Don’t talk about it like that. But it’s not a bad idea, getting out of the house. If you’ll give me a minute to get changed we can get going.”



“And maybe you can get dressed as well?” Franklin said to Adam.



“No, I think he’s okay,” Samantha said. “I was thinking of heading to the beach, anyway.”



Half an hour later, Samantha and her step-son Adam sat in her car as she drove them down the street. She wore a large, old T-shirt over a bikini top that was almost visible through the faded cotton of her top, the collar of which was so large it kept slipping over one of her shoulders, exposing the tops of her round, big tits. Other than that, Adam could only see a pair of shorts that were cut way up high on her thighs.



“So where are we going – - Mom?” he asked with a broad, simple grin.



“You like calling me Mom when we’re alone, don’t you sweetheart?” Samantha asked with a smile.



“Yeah. Is – - is that okay?”



“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Mommy really likes it,” she said, winking at him. “And as far as where we’re going, Mommy’s going to take us to a quiet little place she knows and, as long as no-one’s there, we’re going to have some naughty fun.”



“Like yesterday, Mom?” Adam asked, thinking back to the first time they had sex.



“Oh yes, just like yesterday – - only Mommy plans on being a whole lot naughtier,” Samantha said, reaching over and sliding her hand up the leg of his shorts, her fingers finding the big, spongy head of his cock, already half-hard. Adam moved round in his seat, allowing her to lean across a little, her hand now wrapped round his length. “Mmmm, such a big cock for Mommy,” she sighed, grinning as she felt it buck and deliver a thick stream of pre-cum over her hand.



She withdrew her hand and, as he watched, sucked and licked the clear fluid from her fingers and palm.



“Mommy loves how you taste, sweetheart,” she said, making a show of smacking her lips clean. “But you’d best keep that for later.” Adam pouted a little which made her smile and slide her hand back up his shorts to rub at his cock head again. “You just wait, sweetheart,” she said.



Samantha took them out to the beach but further along than Adam normally went with his friends, leaving the usual places that were frequented by townsfolk and tourists behind. She eventually pulled off the highway and drove out to a small parking lot that looked as though it had last been maintained in the 1950′s. There was a ramshackle guard hut that obviously hadn’t been used in years, the paint marking the spaces had all but worn away, and most of the lot’s cracked surface was covered in sand.



“Good, didn’t think there’d be anyone here,” Samantha said, parking up and getting out. “Would you give Mommy a hand carrying some things, sweetheart?” she asked Adam as he got out. She opened the trunk and between them they fished out two fold-up sun loungers, a cooler and Samantha’s beach bag. Together they walked out of the lot, down some old steps and on to the warm sand of the beach that was deserted even though it was still early afternoon.



Finding a spot that was hidden from the parking lot, they pitched up their sun loungers. As Samantha stripped off her T-shirt, Adam’s gaze instantly fixed on her huge tits. The perfect, round orbs sat high on her chest, the cleavage between them wide as gravity pulled them slightly to the sides, the tiny dark bikini top offering no real support. It was just a couple of triangles of dark cloth covering her small, hard nipples, linked together by thin lines of cotton.



“You like Mommy’s bikini, sweetheart?” she asked Adam, noticing his blatant stare. He nodded and smiled. “Really? Or do you like Mommy’s big titties?” she asked, cupping her huge, fake mounds and pushing them together.



“Both, Mom,” Adam said.



“If I’m going to do some sunbathing,” Samantha said, groping her own tits, “I’m not going to want any tan lines. What do you think, Adam? Should Mommy take her little bikini off. Would you be okay with seeing Mommy’s naked, big tits?”



Adam nodded eagerly and watched as Samantha tugged on the knots at the side, quickly throwing the tiny piece of material away, revealing her huge mounds to his gaze. She cupped them again, bringing first one then the other close to her face, flicking her tongue out and over her nipples, watching him the entire time.



“What do you think, sweetheart? Does Mommy have nice big tits?”



“Gosh, Mom – - they’re great,” Adam said with a big grin.



“Mommy doesn’t want to get them sunburned, sweetheart. Would you like to put some lotion on them?” She laughed gently as he nodded again. “Get the bottle from Mommy’s bag then straddle me.”



Adam rummaged in her beach bag and withdrew a small bottle before stepping over her with one leg, straddling her waist. He opened the bottle and, as Samantha held her big tits together, he drizzled a thin stream of clear fluid all over them. It ran across her perfect orbs, dribbling into her cleavage and pooling in the base of her neck before he placed the bottle to one side.



“Rub it all in for Mommy,” she said, moving her hands and letting him take over, the pair of them watching as his big hands slid across her huge tits, the slippery liquid allowing him to glide over them, spreading the clear fluid all over. “You like that?” she asked.



“Oh yeah, Mom,” Adam said, almost in a daze. Despite the size of his hands, he still couldn’t cover them. He loved squeezing them gently, watching the firm tit-flesh bulge outside his hands as he groped them.



Samantha reached up and ran her hands along the outline of his huge, hard cock that strained against his shorts, threatening to burst free.



“Mmmm, such a big, hard cock for Mommy,” she said. “It is for Mommy, isn’t it?” she asked.



“Yeah, Mom – - all yours,” he said.



“Then lose the shorts, sweetheart. Mommy wants to see that cock of yours again.”



Adam moved faster than she’d ever seen him move before, stepping back over her, whipping his shorts off and then straddling her again, his hands instantly clamped on to her huge tits once more. Samantha wasted no time either and grabbed his prick in both hands, using the liquid from over her tits to gently stroke his entire length from base to tip.



“Gosh, Mom – - feels so good,” Adam said, still running his hands over her tits.



“What does, sweetheart?” Samantha asked with a smile. She loved how he found it difficult to say any dirty words.



“Your hands on my – - my – - my dick,” he said, actually blushing a little.



“And Mommy likes your hands on her tits, and like I said yesterday, any time you want me, you just say, sweetheart.” She gently tugged on his cock, pulling it down. “Right now, though, Mommy wants her tits fucked. Will you do that for Mommy?”



Adam bent his knees and at the same pushed her huge mounds together, watching as Samantha guided the flared head of his prick to her cleavage. He pushed forwards, the fluid easing his passage, and sighed as his cock slid between her big tits, disappearing into the hot, slippery cavern.



“Ohhhhh God,” he gasped.



“Oh that’s it, sweetheart – - fuck Mommy’s tits,” Samantha moaned as she saw his cock head appear just below her chin. She bent her neck, stuck out her tongue and lashed it all around the head of his prick, sucking on the bulbous knob as it slid between her tits.



“Mom – - what about – - what about the sun lotion?” Adam gasped, worried about her swallowing it.



She smiled up and winked at him. “It’s not sun tan lotion, sweetheart,” she said. “I thought you’d be too excited to notice but it’s a water based lube.” She sucked on his cock head again, slurping up the copious amount of pre-cum that dribbled from his piss hole.



“Oh Mom – - Mom that’s so good,” Adam sighed. When she let him go, he returned to easing his thick tool between the slippery valley of her fake boobs. “God I love your – - your tits,” he said with a shy grin. “They’re so big and lovely.”



“Couldn’t do this with Trina, right?” she asked, referring to his now ex-girlfriend who was completely flat chested. Adam shook his head. “And you just remember: any time you want to slide your big, fat cock between Mommy’s big titties, you just come see her, okay? Promise?”



“I will, Mom,” Adam sighed, his hands gripping her huge tits as he sawed his cock back and forth between them, the lube making the tit fuck effortless.



Samantha knew he would likely be more than happy to shoot his load all over her tits but she had other plans and after lapping up another drizzle of pre-cum she put her hand on his hard, muscular abs, slowing him down.



“Want to fuck Mommy again?” she asked him, grinning as his eyes lit up at the prospect.



“God, yeah – - can I?”



“Of course, sweetheart,” Samantha said, pushing him back gently. “Any time you want, okay?”



Adam pulled his dick free of her cleavage and moved to one side, letting her push her shorts off, kicking them to one side, revealing her bald, shaved pussy. She lifted her legs, gripping them behind the knees, and pulled them back and apart. Adam stared at her glistening, wet pussy lips as he straddled the lounger once more, this time taking hold of his prick and aiming it downwards, sliding the bulbous head between her slippery lips.



“Ahhh, that’s it, sweetheart,” Samantha sighed as he slotted his cock into her pussy, easing the first couple of inches inside. “Yeah – - that’s it – - slip that cock into Mommy’s cunt.”



“Wow, Mom,” Adam gasped, looking down at where his big dick was disappearing into his step-mother. “You’re even tighter than yesterday.”



Samantha giggled. “That’s because – - ahhhh, fuck – - because Mommy has – - a surprise for you.” She groaned as Adam packed more and more of his massive cock into her pussy, sliding a few inches out, then a few more inside, slowly, letting her get used to his size again.



“A surprise?” he gasped.



“In a moment, sweetheart – - first you – - mmmmm – - first you have to make – - Mommy cum,” Samantha said. “Hold my legs up – - and fuck me hard,” she said.



Adam took hold of her legs, allowing her to cup her huge tits and bring them closer to her face. She stuck her tongue out and licked her nipples before managing to clamp her lips around them, sucking hard on them.



“God Mom – - that’s so hot,” Adam said as he watched her. With his big dick now pushed deep inside her pussy, he began moving it in and out in long, steady thrusts, the hot, slick walls clasping his fuck meat as he moved it. His hips shifted up a gear and he began pounding her cunt, shoving his whole length right up her twat with every thrust.



“Oh fuck yes!” Samantha cried. “Fuck Mommy! Fuck Mommy hard!” She could feel every inch of his steel hard prick sliding deep into her cunt over and over again, almost bottoming out with each shove. Even though he’d fucked her just the day before, she couldn’t get over how big his cock was and she was determined to have it at least once a day from now on. “Oh Jesus – - fuck Mommy, sweetheart – - fuck Mommy’s cunt!”



Adam’s gaze moved from her pussy to her tits and back, wanting to watch everything as he slammed his length right up her twat again and again. Her pussy felt fantastic, the hot flesh wrapping around his meat as he plowed into her.



“Fuck – -gonna cum – - making Mommy – - cum!” Samantha cried, feeling the familiar stirrings of her orgasm rippling through her pussy. She’d never cum so fast with anyone other than Adam and put it down to a combination of his cock and the fact he was her step-son. “Ahh God – - fucking – - cumming!” she yelled, Adam fucking her through her cum.



Eventually, gasping and shaking, she put out her hand, pushing him backwards.



“Stop, sweetheart – - stop for – - a second,”



Adam slowed down then stopped, pulling his huge, hard cock from her tight little pussy.



“You okay, Mom?” he asked with genuine concern.



“Fine, sweetheart – - never better, honestly,” she said. She brought her legs down, Adam letting them go, and slowly rolled over, bringing her knees up beneath her, her ass high in the air as she dropped her shoulders, her huge tits squashing out beneath her. “Want to know why Mommy’s pussy was so tight and what her surprise it?” she asked him, looking over her shoulder, giggling as he nodded. “Mommy’s been very naughty this morning,” she said, wiggling her ass from side to side. “All night I was thinking about what I said yesterday, about how we have to work out how to get that big fucking cock of yours up Mommy’s ass. So this morning, before I went to church, I pushed one of my dildos up my tight, tiny asshole.”



She reached behind her with one hand and parted her ass cheeks, showing Adam the suction cup end of a dildo sticking out of her butt.



“Oh my God, Mom,” Adam said.



“That’s right, sweetheart. All the way through church today, I was sat next to your father with a big fake cock up my ass, thinking the whole time how it would feel if it was your real dick up there.” She smiled back at him. “Want to take it out for Mommy and swap it with yours?” She giggled as she saw his prick lurch, a thick line of clear pre-cum dribbling from the knob. “I guess that’s a yes.”



He took hold of the end of the dildo and slowly pulled it out, staring at his step-mother’s asshole as it stretched around the thick length she’d had inside her. The first inch or two of the rubber dick came out and she moaned in pleasure and surprise as he pushed it back in again, fucking her with it for a moment or two. Finally, though, he pulled it free, watching her asshole slowly close up again.



“Want to fuck Mommy’s ass, Adam?” she asked him. “Want to squirt some lube on that big cock of yours and shove it Mommy’s tight little asshole?”



Adam quickly grabbed the lube and squeezed out a large amount of the clear fluid onto his rampant prick, rubbing it all over his length before he pushed it down, aiming the spongy knob at her crinkled butthole. He gasped as he watched it disappear into her ass, inch by inch.



“Fuck – - fuck – - gently, sweetheart, gently – - you’re so fucking – - big in Mommy’s ass,” Samantha sighed, closing her eyes as she felt his thick cock slide into her butt. She groaned as he began packing more and more of his big dick up her ass, sliding it in and out, going deeper with each movement.



“Is this – - is this okay, Mom?” he asked, holding her ass cheeks apart, watching his prick slide into her ass.



“Oh fuck yes – - oh Adam – - it’s fucking perfect,” she moaned, pushing her ass back against him, feeling his cock slide even deeper into her ass. “You like it – - sweetheart? You life – - fucking Mommy’s ass?”



“God yeah, Mom,” he gasped. “Do you?”



“Mmmm, fuck – - ahhhh, yes – - Mommy loves – - getting assfucked.” She looked at him over her shoulder again. “Mommy’s going to want – - her ass fucked – - mmmmm – - regularly. You going to do that? Going to – - ahhhhh, fuck – - fuck Mommy’s ass again?”



“Yeah – - oh God yeah,” Adam said, pushing even deeper into her butthole.



“Oooohhhh, fuck – - yes – - do it, sweetheart – - fuck Mommy’s ass – - deep and hard – - buttfuck Mommy!” Samantha cried.



Adam pulled his prick out of her ass until only the head remained within before shoving the whole length balls deep into her asshole making them both cry out in pleasure. He began moving faster, sawing his length in and out of her hot asshole, the tight muscles gripping his stiff column of flesh, the lube allowing it to move easily along the clasping channel.



“Oh fucking hell – - fuck – - fuck Mommy’s ass! Fuck it!” Samantha cried, pushing her ass up to meet his strokes, loving the feeling of her step-son’s cock ramming in and out of her butt. “Gonna – - fucking – - cum!” she panted, her asshole and pussy clenching as Adam continued fucking her ass, never slowing as her second orgasm rattled through her body.



“God, Mom – - I love this,” Adam gasped.



“What, sweetheart? Tell – - tell Mommy – - what you like,” Samantha said.



“I love – - being in you,” he said.



“You love – - fucking Mommy’s ass,” Samantha said, still amused at his reluctance to use coarse language. “Come on, say it – - tell Mommy what you like.”



“I love – - I love fucking your ass, Mom,” he said.



“Again! Tell Mommy!”



“I love fucking your ass, Mom,” he said louder. “I love fucking you – - fucking your pussy – - fucking your tits – - fucking your ass!”



They laughed together and he shoved his cock deep up her ass with every statement, slamming his whole prick into her butt.



“Gonna cum, Mom,” he cried.



“Do it, sweetheart,” Samantha said. “Cum where you want – - in my ass – - on my face – - on my tits – - fucking cum!”



She wasn’t too surprised to feel him withdraw from her asshole and spring off the lounger, appearing at her head, cock in hand. She quickly rolled on to her back and cupped her huge, round tits once more, watching her step-son jerk himself off for just a second or two before his big length pulsed and spat out a thick line of jizz. It splattered against her face from one cheek to another, before it was joined by another line, then another, heavy wads splashing over her gorgeous face time and again. It pooled in her eyes, forcing them closed before it ran down her cheeks.



He twisted a little, sending a thick spray of jizz over her huge tits, one continuous line running from one nipple to the other before it broke apart and slid over her mounds. Another spurt landed heavily on one of her jugs, sliding slowly towards her throat, just as another landed on her other tit, glazing her perfect round breasts. He kept pumping his cock, cum lurching from his knob and dripping messily over her tits before he turned back to her face.



Adam gasped in surprise and pleasure as she lifted her head and clamped her lips round his still spurting prick, taking the last few shots in her mouth, sucking and slurping on his cock straight from her ass. She then took hold of his cock and used it to push the cum from her face into her mouth, swallowing as much of it as she could.

By Adam and Evie Zasse



The authors would like to extend our thanks to volunteer editor ‘Larry in Seattle’ for helping to proof read this story and for his insights and suggestions.




Part 1



To say that the first time was awkward would be an understatement. It was embarrassing sure, but erotic at the same time. We both knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong. But it happened.



I came home from work a little earlier than usual that day tired and dirty. I went straight to the bathroom next to my room and took a hot, refreshing shower. I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked across the hall to my room. When I opened the door and stepped inside I froze, startled to see my mom lying across my bed. She was looking at some of my magazines. The ones I had hidden. She was only wearing a bra. Her panties were on the floor and her hand was frantically rubbing her pussy.



Now you must understand that my mom and I are alone. Dad took off several years ago. She is in her late forties and a little on the chubby side, certainly still pretty, but in a motherly kind of way. I just turned twenty.



I was shocked, first that I was seeing my mom naked, or almost naked. And second that she had found my magazine collection. I guess most guys have a stash of girly mags, but mine were more explicit, the kind that show people screwing and sucking. And not all of them showed just men and women. Some of them were about gay guys.



I’m afraid that as I stood there, mouth open, unable to speak, my towel slipped down. As my mom looked up, our eyes met, and we both just stared. Almost like in a trance, I moved closer to the bed. I don’t know what I was thinking. I bent down to pick up mom’s panties and held them out for her without saying a word. I don’t remember everything in those first few minutes, but I do remember that mom never stopped rubbing herself. I remember thinking how smooth and silky the panties felt as I rubbed them on my very erect and hard cock. And I remember seeing mom smile.



After that, things got a little fuzzy. I have tried and tried to remember exactly what happened, but I can’t. What is clear, imprinted forever in my brain, is my cock buried as far as it would go in my mom’s shaved, wet, hot pussy. Now, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had a girl or two, but there is absolutely no comparison between those girls and mom. The feeling was unbelievable. I didn’t want to stop stroking. It felt so good. With the girls, when the big moment came, even with a condom, I always pulled out. With mom, I wanted my load deep in her pussy. I strained to get as far in as I could. I remember moaning loudly as wave after wave of hot cum erupted from my cock.



Sometime later, lying on my bed, I remember feeling one of mom’s hands on my cock. “You’re all sticky.” mom said. “Let me clean you up.”



I felt the bed shift as mom moved. And she started cleaning, with her tongue. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. As my cock started to come back to life, mom took the head into her mouth and started to suck. I would never have guessed it, but my mom is a really great cocksucker. She was able to take most of my eight plus inches into her mouth and down her throat. She massaged my balls and even got a finger in my ass, which was a first for me. It didn’t take long before I was ready to cum again.



I remember saying “Mom, I’m gonna, I’m gonna.” And I did.



Mom didn’t stop sucking. When I blew my load, she sucked it all down, swallowing every drop. When she finally let my limp cock slip out of her mouth, she just stood up and walked towards the bedroom door.



“Mom,” I said, intending to apologize or say something.



“Not now.” Mom said, “We’ll talk later.” “But thank you.” She added and left, closing the door behind her.



We did talk later. We did more than talk. But that was later…



Part 2



That night I didn’t sleep very well. I loved my mom sure. But what we did was immoral and I was pretty sure, illegal. I tossed and turned all night worrying about what would happen in the morning. Ya, she started it, but I should have known better and walked away right? When I came down the next morning, mom was making breakfast. I heard her humming softly.



“Good morning sweetie.” Mom said as she put a platter of eggs and bacon on the table.



“Ah, morning mom.” I answered.



“How are you this morning?” Mom continued just like any other day.



“Mom, about yesterday,” I started, but she held up her hand to stop me.



“You really were very good you know.” “Better I think than your father.” Mom said.



“Er, thanks, I guess.” “Look mom, I sort of got caught up in the moment.” “I promise it won’t ever happen again.” I offered, looking down at my plate.



“I really hope you are wrong sweetie.” Mom said.



“What?” ” I’m confused.” “I’m trying to apologize.” “Please say you’ll forgive me for what I did.” I almost cried.



Mom got up and walked over to my side of the table. She lifted my head and gently kissed me on my forehead. It made me feel a little better. Maybe things will be all right after all. Then mom lifted my head again. This time she kissed me full on my mouth. I felt her tongue probing my lips. I opened my mouth a little and that damn tongue slipped inside. The next few minutes were kind of a blur, but the next thing I knew mom was sitting on my lap and we were kissing, hot and heavy.



I’m afraid I got lost in what was happening. My mind was going in several directions at once. I do remember mom taking my hand and putting it on her boob. She squeezed my hand once or twice and I got the message. For the first time in my life I massaged my mothers breast. Mom pulled away from the kiss and sat back a little. She unbuttoned her shirt. Her bra was the kind that opened in front and she unclipped it. When she leaned forward again, she found my mouth open and ready. My hand found it’s own was back to her boob. It felt good in my hand, soft, warm, and just big enough to play with. Her nipple was hard and stiff. I twisted and pulled it. It must have felt good because I heard mom moan softly.



“A minute ago you made me a promise.” Mom said. “Still want to keep it?”



“Are you sure about this Mom?” “Do you really want to do this?” I asked.



“I’m sure honey.” “I’ve thought about this a lot.” She said. “But what do you want?”



“Mom, I want to, ah.” “Oh hell Mom, you know what I want.” I answered back.



“Then tell me.” ” I want to hear you say it.” “I want to hear those words coming from your lips and I want to know that you mean it.” She said.



“Mom.” I said taking a deep breath. “I want, more than anything, to fuck you again.” “I want to fuck the living shit out of you.” “I want to fill your hot pussy with my cum.”



“Is that what you wanted to hear?” I asked.



Part 3



Mom got up, took me by the hand, and led me, quite willingly, up to her bedroom. She had a bigger bed than mine. She pulled the drapes open and got undressed while I watched. She went to the window and stretched seductively. I would have though she would want the drapes closed for privacy. There were several nearby homes where anybody might look into her window. Mom came over to me and helped me get out of my clothes. Naked together, alone, mother and son. The only thing between us was my very hard cock. Before I knew what she was doing, mom pulled me closer to her big picture window and knelt down in front of me. If anyone was watching, they got quite a show as mom licked the under side of my cock and flicked her tongue back and forth over the head. I know I was leaking pre cum and I looked down to see mom taking the clear drops onto her tongue and swallowing them. When she took the head into her mouth, I thought I would pass out. I felt her tongue probing my pee hole. Then, I watched as mom slowly took my entire shaft down her throat like she did the first time. Then she did something that I had never experienced before. She started to hum, deep in her throat. It felt like she touched a vibrator to my cock. The feeling was unbelievable. Then, all too quickly she stopped. Mom let my cock slip out of her mouth and got up. She moved to her bed and stretched out on her back, legs spread in invitation. My cock was rock hard.



An invitation I gladly accepted. As I crawled onto the bed, I thought about licking mom’s pussy, but we both knew what both of us really wanted. I positioned myself on top of my mother, and bent down to kiss her. My cock seemed to find it’s own way to her waiting hole. As she lifted her hips, my cock slipped into her pussy easily. I remember how hot it felt. I heard her gasp as I rammed my cock in as far as it would go. No gentle love making now. I wanted to fuck her hard, and I knew she wanted it too. I managed to lean forward and get my hands down so I could grab her ass. With my mother supporting my weight, I slammed into her hot hole over and over. We were both covered with sweat and gasping for breath when I let go. Even as I was cuming, I continued pounding away.



When I was finally through squirting, I pulled out and sat back. I looked down at mom’s pussy. It was pulsing, the lips of her vagina were swollen and puffy. As I watched. I saw a small flood of my own cum oozed out from between those tender pussy lips.



We spent the next few hours lying in bed, talking softly. The following few days were almost a letdown. I went back to work Monday morning and you can probably guess what I was thinking all day long. In the evenings that week, not much changed. I was greeted with a rather long and passionate kiss instead of the peck on the cheek I had been getting and mom and I were sleeping together in her room. It was almost like we were married. We had sex of course, but not quite so intense or rough. I found out that mom liked it doggie style and I kinda enjoyed watching her butt as we fucked. In that position I couldn’t help wondering if someday I might be able to squeeze into her ass. I did finger it a little and mom didn’t seem to mind too much. So I kept wondering.



That Friday, I came home and found mom in my old room. She had pulled out my magazine collection and was flipping through the pages. She looked up as I came in.



“Hi sweetie, I hope you don’t mind?” She said as she stacked the magazines.



“Er, no mom, its ok I guess.” I said, wondering which mags she had been looking at.



“Wanna go rent a movie and order a pizza?” She asked, getting up.



Before I could answer, she put her arms around my neck and pulled my head down for a hot kiss. By the time she broke away, I wanted to rip her clothes off.



Part 4



Mom drove to a video store in a small, nearby mall. When we went inside we looked at comedies and westerns but nothing seemed to interest her. Near the back of the store, she pulled me into a smaller room filled with adult videos.



“Look around.” She said. “But whatever you choose, we are going to try it ourselves later tonight.”



Now I’ve seen porno movies before and I know some of them can get into some serious and off-the-wall scenarios. I looked around and decided it would be best not to get too kinky, especially not knowing if mom had see these kind of movies before. I found one about first time anal play. It wasn’t about incest or the young/old thing, but it was a start. I paid for the rental and we headed home. We only stopped long enough to pick up a pizza.



We ate and watched the movie. Mom didn’t say much. When the movie was over, mom climbed onto my lap, facing me. She wiggled a little and I know she must have felt my growing erection. She put her arms around my neck and we kissed. Her tongue was out even before our lips met. I reached around and grabbed her ass, pulling it down as far as I could.



When we went upstairs to bed I watched as mom got undressed. A sight I will always love. She went to her dresser and took something from a lower drawer. She took it to bed with her and when she got on her hands and knees, I guessed what it was. She had a bottle of that ‘astro-something’ lube.



“Well, I know you want to try.” “You’ve been playing with my ass every time we make love.” She said.



When I knelt behind her, I squirted some of the lube on my fingers and tried to get some in her ass. I worked slowly until one of my fingers slipped in and out easily. Then I squirted on some more and finally gave my cock a good coating. Mom lowered her butt just enough for me to get my cock aimed at her asshole. I used my fingers again and then tried to push my cockhead in. I could feel mom trying to relax her butt as I used my thumb to help push my cock in. We must have done that for at least five or six minutes. I was about to give up when mom suggested more lube. I squirted a small stream right into her hole and pushed my cock down again. All of a sudden I slipped in. At least the head was in. Mom cried out, but she told me to keep going. I added more lube on my shaft and pushed. And I was in, all the way, balls deep. When I started to pull out, mom groaned. When she didn’t say anything else, I pushed in again. This time she moaned, but the kind of moan that she gets from pleasure not pain. I started pumping. God it felt tight. The feeling was unbelievable. When mom started to push back I knew she was enjoying it too. All too quickly I exploded with a rush of cum. I pulled out, surprised to see I was still pretty hard. I looked down to see my cum ooze out of mom’s ass and run down her crack to her pussy. I couldn’t help myself. I heard mom gasp as I worked the head of my cock into her pussy. I grabbed her hips and fucked her for another few minutes. We fell into each others arms totally spent. I will never forget that episode as long as I live.



I know. I’m either the luckiest guy on the planet or the stupidest. Not only does my mother let me fuck her, but also she encourages it. She even let me take her in the ass. But the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. We shouldn’t be doing this. What if someone found out? What if someone called the cops? What would happen if mom got pregnant? Oh My God. Maybe I better start using a condom. Ya, that’ll solve my problem! This whole thing was crazy. But on the other hand,



I was fucking my mother.

BEYOND THE BORDERLINE



By CPBAUDELAIRE



May not be reposted in whole or in part without express written consent of author. All rights reserved. Reproduction for profit is strictly prohibited. Posted exclusively on Literotica.



All characters having sex together are over 18 years of age.



Although drawn from my own experiences, this is a work of fiction. If you are offended by stories of incest between mothers and sons, you should skip this submission.



This is my first attempt at “creative” writing of any kind. I did not expect it to grow into this rather long tale, but as I developed the characters, it sort of took on a life of its own. Be warned, for those of you who like your mother-son stories short, sweet and steamy, this will not be your cup of tea, as there is a fairly long build up to consummation. Constructive criticism is most welcome, as I have a number of other ideas in various stages of gestation and hope to take the lessons I learn from my first “baby” forward with me as I continue to write. Some of the other projects are “spin-offs” from this one. Thanks for looking and I hope you enjoy the story.



Thanks to Larascasse for editorial assistance.



There’s a place where I’ve been told

Every street is paved with gold

And it’s just across the borderline

And when it’s time to take your turn



Here’s one lesson you must learn,

You could lose more than you’ll ever hope to find….

But hope remains when pride is gone

And it keeps you moving on

Calling you across the borderline



Ry Cooder



© Ry Cooder/John Hiatt/James Dickinson



BOOK ONE




I don’t have much time left. Having already outlasted their prognostications, my doctors aren’t sure if I’ll be around for weeks or hours. I’m hoping for the latter – the pain is pretty bad now. I burn. Everything burns. Every fiber, every sinew is a white-hot wire, glowing bright as a magnesium flare, all consuming and insatiable.



It’s funny how pain purifies, clarifies and distills. When I’m not grinding my teeth in agony, I think about everything that has come before. Some might say that what I feel now is a just reward for the life I’ve lived, but I have no guilt. None whatsoever. I know with certainty that I have no regrets, just as I know my pain is a doorway. I know that soon, I’ll step beyond that threshold and find escape.



As I have endured these past weeks, most of my waking hours have been spent reflecting on the arc of my life and the extraordinary woman who defined most of it. When our children grew up, they came to know the bare bones of things, but we never really discussed details. Before I’m claimed, I want to tell our story as best I can.



Right now, the Roxanol is my friend, keeping the beast at bay long enough to collect my thoughts, but I find that the lassitude that comes with the relief makes it hard to concentrate. Things seem to oscillate between the warm fuzziness of cotton wool and the knifepoint awareness of the slightest sensation that comes with exquisite distress. I have difficulty sometimes finding the thread of my narrative, and memories sometimes become encumbered with newly recalled details that somehow seem more significant now than they ever were before. One of my daughters is at my bedside, guiding and prompting me as I attempt to recall everything. Of our four children, she is closest to me and knows perhaps the most. Hopefully her focus will allow a coherent story to emerge…



***




My name is Rick and this is the story of my mother and myself, a tale of a life and love that almost didn’t happen.



I was born about 6 months after my mom’s 17th birthday, in an all too common circumstance; a trusting young girl abandoned after deceitful representations of affection and the usual unfulfilled, sweet promises of an older, manipulative guy. I never knew my father, which was no loss. After my mom became pregnant, he disappeared into the merchant marine. We never heard from him again.



I was most fortunate growing up – I had a very good childhood, in large measure due to my maternal grandparents. Unusual for their generation, they never judged their daughter for her mistake, only insisting that she carry her pregnancy to term, then to decide if I would be given up for adoption. Perhaps it was the fact that Mom was a late, unplanned child, born when my grandparents were entering their mid-forties, which allowed them to view the situation she found herself in with some equanimity and understanding. In any event, I was blessed to be a welcome and well-loved, if unexpected addition to the family Lindermann.



While I was growing up, Mom always said that keeping me was the single best decision she ever made. She had drifted through her middle teenage years, a smart, pretty girl who was never much interested in anything beyond gossiping with her girlfriends, shyly interested in various boys and going to parties. She had done well in school, but it did not hold her interest, with all of the other pleasant distractions that were accessible to a well-liked, attractive and popular young lady.



In becoming a mother though, she found herself. My entry into her life lit the proverbial fire under her feet, and with the support of Nana and Gramps, she finished high school with an academic flourish, home schooling for her senior year. At this time, Gramps received a big job promotion, which required him to move from our central Ohio home to the metro New York area. Mom elected to come along. With Nana doing most of the day care, Mom enrolled in a community college for a year and excelled academically – She always said that love for a child was probably the strongest motivator a woman could have. Mom channeled her protective maternal instincts into scholastic accomplishments and was rewarded when she was able to transfer the following year into a nearby, very prestigious 4 year college.



One of my earliest childhood memories was Mom’s graduation. I still recall the infinite, brilliant blue skies and enveloping warmth of that early June day, as I was perched on Gramps’ shoulders, watching mom walk across the podium for her degree. I also clearly remember the storm which subsequently followed at home, when Mom announced that she was done with school and getting a job. Nana was beside herself with confusion and frustration. How could Mom throw away her life after having done so well getting herself back on track? Graduate school beckoned, or possibly Law, or Medicine!



“Ricky needs me now, more than ever,” she had replied firmly, “and the two of you have sacrificed enough over the past 5 years for me. It’s time that I do what I should for my son.”



The arguments went on for days, but in the end, a compromise was reached. Through his connections, Gramps would secure mom a part time job at his company and Mom would go to law school at night. We would continue to live with Gramps and Nana.



This defined our lives together until I was 10 years old. Up at 6 am for school, a kiss and hug from Mom and then again at 3:30, when she would be waiting for me. Three precious hours together, doing homework and all the other things we needed to accomplish. Then it was dinner for the four of us, usually prepared by Nana and Mom. She would then head out the door for evening classes. I never forgot the sharp regret I would feel when she would give me my hug and kisses, before admonishing me not to be a pain to Gramps and Nana and to be in bed “on time and under budget.” She would then be up late into every night for her own studies, so we could have the weekends free. During that time, I doubt that she got more than 5 hours of sleep a night.



Those weekends were sacred time. Mom and I would go on picnics, visit the zoo, check out the dinosaur fossils at the Museum of Natural History, or sometimes just stay home and watch old movies. Occasionally, Gramps and Nana would join us for an outing, but mostly it was just Mom and I. I think it was during this period that Mom became my best buddy. We could talk about anything and she would answer any question I had honestly and openly, even the embarrassing ones about how I came to be and why I didn’t have a regular daddy. As time went by, Mom made sure to push me (sometimes very much against my wishes) into the wider world.



“You’re always going to be my boy, hotshot, but I’m not going to let you be a Momma’s boy,” she would say, usually ruffling my hair as she spoke. She saw to it that I had my share of good buddies, sleepovers and tree house time, even though it often cut into the limited hours she could spend with me.



Probably with me in mind, Mom still lived with Gramps and Nana, even as I progressed through middle school and high school, so I never lacked for guidance and role models. Gramps got me going in Pop Warner football when I was 8, and I continued that through middle school. Mom rarely missed a game, even though my playing time was limited – I struggled in the lower weight limit divisions, as I was slow to grow compared with some of my friends.



Puberty caught me soon enough, and with that everything changed, beginning the journey that brings us to this narrative. I turned into what Nana would affectionately call “The Composter.” My appetite was insatiable and I think I was personally responsible for a 50% increase in the household food budget. In the space of about three years, I went from a 90 pound, hairless chicken to about 5 foot 10 inches and 150 pounds of wiry, lanky teenager. I continued to grow another 2 inches and filled out some more, reaching my full growth around the time I graduated from high school, at 6 foot even and around 170 pounds.



I imagine now is as good a time as any to describe myself.



I mostly owe my Mom for my facial features. I have high cheekbones, a broad forehead and hair that is long and straight. I generally keep it in a short ponytail. I’ve worn it this way since I was fifteen, Mom laughingly calling it my “surfer samurai” look. The color is somewhere in between my Mom’s strawberry blonde and a brunette color, darker when it’s wet. My eyes are green. I’d have to say I’m proud of my physique. I’ve always liked a good, sweat-busting workout, as well as swimming and running, which I have continued all through high school and college. No one is ever going to confuse me with a body builder, but I have just a hint of a six-pack and take pride in maintaining it.



I guess there also needs to be the obligatory description of the equipment. Well, let’s just say I’m favored with something that’s a little bit better than average, around 7 1/2 or 8 inches long and around four or five inches of girth. The supporting cast is proportionate. I’ve had more than one girl say I’m fairly easy on the eyes, but I tend not to pay a lot of attention to that. When all is said and done, I’m a rather shy, serious and somewhat introspective person. I really take after my mom that way.



Ah yes, my mother – Jennifer Marie. I suppose most of you have been putting up with our family biography to get to this point. If you are expecting moist tales of nymphomaniac, six-foot Amazonian goddesses with double D everything, you may as well pack it in now and move on to one of those one-page stroke fairy tales, because that’s just not how it is.



To me, my mom is beautiful. Period. How and why should be apparent as you read this account of our lives. Her face is striking, with high, sculpted, almost Asiatic cheekbones, an aquiline, slightly prominent nose and piercing blue eyes. She wears her straight, strawberry blonde hair in a layered, elegant shoulder length cut with long bangs. Somehow, she makes it look both sophisticated and cute at the same time. Her lips are fairly full, with a strong chin beneath them. Her jaw line is just somewhat square, but delicate enough to offset the angularity of that part of her face. If you can believe it, she would tell you her best feature is her teeth, which are large and even, but not prominent, straight and very white. She doesn’t smile a lot, but when she does flash her pearly whites, it lights up the room. I’ve been known to do and say some pretty goofy stuff just to hear her wonderful laugh and see that gorgeous smile.



I’m constantly surprised by the depth and breadth of her interests. She loves cinema, particularly film noir, French New Wave and classic Hollywood. Her taste in music is amazingly eclectic. There has always been something playing in the house for as long as I can remember. Most of the time, I hear her listening to Bach, The Beatles, Coltrane and Miles, but I’ve also seen her boogie in the kitchen to AC/DC and Led Zeppelin, as well as singing along to old Patsy Cline songs. If she put her mind to it, I bet she could do a pretty fair karaoke version of “I Fall to Pieces.”



One of the most endearing things about her is her secret guilty pleasure – The Three Stooges. She’d be terribly embarrassed to admit it, but I can always crack her up with my imitation of Curly. I consistently get a smile from her when she asks me to do a chore and I reply “Soitenly!”



Another favorite was when she would help me with concepts I didn’t understand in my homework. I’d just say, “I’m trying to think, but nothin’ happens.”



I can still remember the first time I tried that one out on her. We were doing some algebra problems and she was drinking a mug of decaf as we sat at the kitchen table. She was so pissed when the coffee came out her nose and got all over my homework, but we couldn’t stop laughing for about ten minutes after that. We’d quiet down for a few seconds, but then look at each other and break out into gales of laughter all over again. Gramps and Nana were convinced we had completely lost our marbles. I had to copy my entire assignment over again, but it was so worth it.



As an objective frame of reference, think a little of Marg Helgenberger, but a bit plainer, rounder and less angular, with an extra 10 or 15 pounds. That extra weight is pretty well distributed, in my very subjective opinion. It is not too concentrated in one particular area, but certainly enhancing some features, like her breasts and hips, which are noticeably fuller and rounder than our Helgenberger archetype.



Understand, Mom is and always was beautiful in my eyes. She’s not a runway model, some airbrushed and Photoshopped stereotype. She’s a real lady, with a real world figure. Her hips are full, lush and smooth. Her belly has that wonderfully sensuous, slight swelling of a mature woman. All of the lines, curves, swellings and creases fit together with what I consider to be perfect harmony.



I absolutely adore those perfect, soft, womanly curves. She’s my Venus de Milo.



I lusted after Mom before I loved her. I suppose that’s not so unusual for a thirteen year old who was just beginning to make wood, but I think it was different for me in one big respect.



The first time I ever had an orgasm, it was because of Mom.



It happened one October afternoon, just before a football game. We were running late because Gramps and Nana were unavailable to drive me at the last minute. Mom had just gotten back from work and wanted to change out of her city clothes before we left. She was tired and moving a bit slowly. I was impatient to get going – it was to be my very first time as a starter.



After pacing downstairs for several eternal minutes (teenagers are well known to inhabit an alternate dimension where different rules on the passage of time apply), I called out crankily, “C’mon, Mom, we’re gonna be late!”



Her voice floated down to me, patient as always, “Just a couple minutes, sweetie – I’m almost ready.”



I don’t know what possessed me at that moment, but Mom’s answer wasn’t satisfactory. I clomped up the stairs and barged into her bedroom.



Her bare back was turned to me and she was only wearing a pair of plain, high-waisted, pale blue cotton panties. Her skin was alabaster, without a single blemish and her rounded hips were simple perfection, smoothly contoured and flawlessly curved. The elastic leg holes of her briefs were snugged right into the crease where the back of her thighs met her buttocks, seeming almost to lift and display her bottom.



All of this registered in the split second before she began to turn in surprise, a vision tattooed into my memory with a hot needle, dipped in the darkest of inks. As she turned, reflexively bringing her arms up to cover her breasts, one hand lagged by the slightest of moments and I saw her nipple.



It was a rosy peak, rising out from the flesh of her breast not like a nubbin, but more of a pink, Hershey’s kiss, ever so slightly larger. To my eye it was as her back and behind, free of any imperfection.



By the time she finished turning, my mouth hung open and I was blushing, but probably not as much as I should have, because a lot of blood was rushing somewhere else very, very quickly.



It was a good thing that my jersey wasn’t tucked in at the time, as I was suddenly sporting, the strongest, most tingly woodie ever.



Eyes flashing, Mom held her arms tight against herself, not realizing how the pressure of her self-embrace pushed her breasts upwards, inadvertently emphasizing her cleavage.



My face got redder, my dick got harder and my jaw dropped further. Thank God my tongue wasn’t hanging out, but wasn’t of any use to me anyway.



“Jesus H. Christ, Ricky!” she shouted in anger. “Don’t you ever knock? How dare you barge into my room like this!”



“Uh, uhmmm, yeah, uhm, sor..sorry, uhm, Mom,” I mumbled inanely.



“Standing here staring at me is NOT going to speed this process up, young man,” she said acidly. “Now, git!”



I skedaddled in infamy, still blushing and tumescent, but something made me pause as I closed her door behind me. Looking back through the crack, I saw Mom putting her bra on.



Her back was again turned to me, the cups of the utilitarian, white bra dangling around the back of her waist as she engaged the hooks. Spinning the garment around, she leaned forward slightly, thrusting her arms through the shoulder straps. I could see the wonderful bulge of the sides of her breasts as she brought her arms up and the bra began to slide into place.



God, I was so hard, I literally didn’t know what to do with myself. The tingling I felt in my groin was beyond any sensation I had ever experienced. The pleasure that came with that tingling was combined with the anxiety and enormous guilt that came along with knowing I shouldn’t be spying on my own mother.



While I squirmed with barely understood arousal, Mom finished putting her bra on. As an incredible tightness built within my groin, Mom reached up to cup her breasts, adjusting the cups of her bra.



Suddenly, without even touching myself, unbelievable, incomprehensible pleasure burst in my head and groin simultaneously, totally stunning me. Without warning, my cock was twitching and squirming and I felt an incredible tightness in my balls as my ass clenched. Suddenly my pants were wet and I was mortified, staggering back from the door, tripping over my own feet to land sprawling in the hallway. I scrambled to the bathroom in total embarrassment, certain I had peed myself.



Locking the door, I peeled my pants and tighty-whiteys down to inspect the calamity. My dick was covered with whitish slime that smelled funny, a little bit like bleach. The same fluid saturated the front of my underwear. Reaching for a washcloth, I dampened it under the tap and started to clean up.



Zowie! I could barely touch the head of my cock! Man, it was sensitive! The lightest pressure was almost unbearable, but at the same time, incredibly pleasurable. As I cleaned myself, my erection returned with a vengeance, nearly as hard as when I was looking at Mom.

I was jerked back to reality by the slap of Mom’s palm on the door.



“I’m ready now, Mr. Impatient,” she snapped. “You better get out here pronto, or I’m not going to take you. Let’s get this show on the road!”



Quickly stuffing myself back under cover, I washed my hands and stepped out into the hallway. Mom was right by the door, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot, still clearly pissed about my indiscretion.



“Let’s go,” she said curtly.



Our ride to the practice field was made in tense silence. I knew I was in trouble and Mom was letting me stew in my juices for a while before she lowered the boom.



When we arrived at the parking lot, she put her arm across my chest, checking me before I could escape the car. Reaching out to me with her other hand, she cupped my chin and forcibly turned my head to face her.



She spoke quietly, but firmly, in measured tones, her calm demeanor actually emphasizing her displeasure.



“Ricky, are you a little boy or a young man?”



“I’m not a little boy,” I replied somewhat sullenly.



“No you’re not. Young men don’t behave like little kids, now do they?”



“No, Mom.”



“As a young man, you have certain responsibilities. The most important of these is to always treat your Mom with courtesy and respect. That is, of course, assuming you want me to treat you like the young man you are becoming. Do you want me to respect you, to treat you fairly?”



“Yes, Mom,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.



“Well then,” she continued, pointedly ignoring my attitude, “That includes always knocking before you come into my room from now on. You will respect my privacy,” she declared, steel in her voice. “If it happens again, you’ll be grounded for a month and no allowance, no Nintendo and no movies. Are we clear?”



Suitably chastised, I nodded my acquiescence.



“I’m sorry I was rude Mom. I won’t do it again.”



“Apology accepted,” she acknowledged, her demeanor returning to normal.



“Mom, you’re not going to leave, are you?” I asked anxiously.



Smile returning, she squeezed my hand reassuringly. “I wouldn’t miss my son’s first start for anything. I was planning to follow Mom and Dad here anyway, until our plans changed.”



“Hop on out and get ready. I’ll find a parking space and see you shortly.”



Later, I saw Mom in the stands, hooting and hollering along with all the other parents. When the second half began, I saw that Gramps and Nana had made it as well. It felt really good to have my whole family rooting for me.



It would have been amazing if I had played a great game, but I didn’t. I did do the next beast thing, though – I didn’t screw up. That was enough for me. When it was all over, I got a slap on the back from Gramps and big hugs from Mom and Nana. We went out for pizza after that, completing what turned out to be one of the most important days of my life.



I never got another chance to see Mom undressed or in her underwear again after that day. I suspect that she had at least some inkling of how my seeing her had affected me and was very careful not to give me the opportunity for another eyeful.



It didn’t really matter though – the damage had been done and I was changed for good.



At that point, I was totally focused on trying to get another glimpse of Mom. Any opportunity was to be seized upon, but Mom was very careful since that first wonderful incident. Failing to get any more chances, my emphasis gradually shifted. Of course if you can’t see Mom in the flesh, the next best thing is those wonderful garments that cover her special parts.



I remember the first time I snuck into her room and rummaged in her underwear drawer. Even though she was long gone for a day’s work in the City, I was so nervous, I shook like a baby’s rattle. Running my trembling hands over the lacy cups of one of her brassieres, I became hard as a brick. Rubbing my fingertips over the shiny smoothness of one of her nylon granny panties, I almost came without touching myself.



When I pulled my shorts down and got my cock out, the moment I slid my glans across the gusset of her briefs, I shot a huge load all over my hands and the panties. I almost passed out from the pleasure and the excitement of doing something so forbidden, so nasty. When I finally came down from orbit, though, I knew I was in trouble. My cum was everywhere, coating my hands, splooged in her panties and dripping on the carpet by her dresser.



I was immediately assailed by terrible guilt. Not only was I a pervert, who whacked off into his own mother’s underwear, I had made a huge, disgusting mess in her bedroom. I was doomed and damned all at one instant. Damned for my sinful behavior and horrible thoughts and doomed because I knew in my heart that I would never be able to stop doing it again and again and again.



Frantically, I rushed to obliterate all traces of my transgression. I cleaned myself up and dashed to the laundry room, rinsing Mom’s undies in the sink and then throwing them in the bottom of the hamper, out of sight and mind. I flew back upstairs with a sponge and some dish soap and feverishly scrubbed my jizz out of the carpet. I dashed back downstairs to put the cleaning stuff away and then sprinted back to Mom’s bathroom, grabbing her hair dryer, which I then used to dry the damp spots on the carpet where I had cleaned my sticky spend out of the shag.



Trembling with anxiety, I bolted to my room, locking the door behind me before I flung myself on the bed. Then I waited, overwhelmed with guilt. I waited for Mom to come home and discover my horrible actions, throwing me out of the house. I waited for Gramps to come home and beat me within an inch of my life. I waited for God to smite me with a thunderbolt, punishing me for my sin.



After about ten or fifteen minutes of waiting for the sky to fall, I realized nothing was going to happen. After thirty minutes, recalling the silky feel of her panties on my dick, I got hard again. Five minutes later, I was back in the laundry room, fishing the still-damp panties from the hamper and retreating to my room for another round of jacking off.



Thus began my relationship with my mother’s underwear. Within two weeks, I knew every article by heart; what size (34C bust, size 7 panties), what location in the drawer and the usual order of use. I never escaped the feelings of guilt and shame when I spunked her panties, but I simply couldn’t help myself.



At first, after I saw Mom that day, I couldn’t get the visions of her breasts and panty-clad ass out of my head. I was constantly sneaking glances at her, hoping for a flash of thigh or a brief peek of her brassiere through the gaps between buttons in her blouses, or, holy of holies, getting a look up her skirt to see her panties. The more I looked, though, the more I noticed everything about her appearance – how she combed her hair, put on lipstick or, rarely, eye shadow, what her sense of style was for her work clothes, what kind of pantyhose she used and also her perfume.



I guess at that point, I was beginning to appreciate her as a whole woman for the first time and I surely loved what I saw. It’s a given that a guy that age spends a majority of the day with thoughts of jutting asses and jiggling breasts running through his head, but I imagined all that and saw so much more in my mother.



Her arms were shapely, with only the slightest hint of softness that comes with her age. Her legs are…well, to me they’re magnificent. Perfectly proportioned for her height, with exquisitely turned calves, they are almost an anachronism, a modern day reincarnation of the great pins of the 50′s movie stars. A comparison to Cyd Charisse would be close to the mark in my mind, but I confess a complete lack of impartiality.



As long as I am admitting to bias, let me describe the miracle of skin and muscle that is her ass. It is, in a word, womanly. Not a bubble butt, not adolescent, nor compact. It is beautifully proportioned to the rest of her anatomy, but is…lusciously full, mobile, superbly pear-shaped, flawlessly smooth and topped by a sensational, very sensuous, flared waistline. Whether encased in denim shorts, tight Capri pants or even plain slacks, it is an absolute vision of promise and an invitation to totally forbidden thoughts.



Just to be clear, I would not walk on hot coals to place my hands upon it. For that privilege, I would wade through waist deep lava while gargling sulfuric acid and razor blades. For a chance to caress it, kiss it and otherwise worship it, I would sell my soul, in an instant.



Yeah, I like my Mom’s derriere just a little.



I think these features are attractive enough when seen as mere components, but it’s how they all work together that makes her beautiful to me. Perhaps because I am used to looking at her every chance I get, I pay more attention, but I think her face is marvelously expressive. Her deep blue eyes can positively dance with mischief, humor and laughter. When she is truly angry with me, a grey coldness creeps in and they dissect my guilty thoughts and actions like scalpels. Fortunately, I have not been on the receiving end of that particular gaze very often. I can recognize at least 8 or 10 different smiles, ranging from “come get your chicken soup” to “come hither right now.” That latter smile is why I’m telling this story, of course.



Mom is an extremely observant and perceptive person. She’s also very cautious and detail-oriented, as well as being a bit of a control freak, but she has to be in her job. She’s the youngest and first female partner at March, Briggs and Dufrense, a moderate sized law firm in the City. She got there by being smarter, nice-tougher and generally harder working than most of the other associates. Once she was hired on, it only took her 4 years to make partner. She specializes in corporate and international law, which is well suited to her careful, meticulous nature. She’s a member of the Bar in New York, New Jersey and unusually, a couple Canadian provinces as well. In addition to loving her, having a crush on her, lusting after her greatly and generally adoring her, I admire her tremendously.



As you can probably tell, I have been hopelessly attached to this woman since forever. Of course, the lens of puberty completely changes the focus and perception of a growing boy, and I was no exception. What was once “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you, Mommy!” at 6 years old becomes furtive trips to the laundry hamper for used panties at 13. Is there anything that can compare to the slight residual warmth, intoxicating scent or taste of the gusset in a freshly discarded pair of panties? Not to a young, hyper stimulated teenager, I would guess.



It was at middle school time when I really began to notice Mom as a woman. My voice was deepening, my bones were aching from my growth spurt and there was hair growing in unexpected places. Equipment that was once single purpose developed very interesting and downright startling new capabilities.



Mom almost certainly knew what was happening before I did, and of course she had taught me all the basics at a much younger age, to satisfy my insatiable curiosity. Nana, Gramps and Mom were all kindly tolerant of my withdrawn surliness and generally antisocial interactions as testosterone overran my synapses, but they kept me on track. Gramps was great a getting me settled into my new role as a real guy and second man of the house. Some of that instruction was real old school stuff, very much nose-to-nose and occasionally resulted in prolonged discomfort when sitting, but we got through it okay and I was the better for it.



Academically, I was a good student in school. I had to really bust my ass to excel in math and science, but with much pain and sweat, still managed to do well in these areas. As you might imagine, when it came to grades, Mom took no prisoners. Somehow, though, she always found the right combination of motivations to carry me through any difficulties. She never used her own considerable accomplishments as a yardstick against my own efforts, I think because she knew I would do that myself. There was an unspoken assumption that, of course, I would give a maximum effort in any subject I studied. She had high expectations, but also seemed to have a sixth sense for what represented my best efforts, and never criticized me when she knew I had done my best on something and had come up a little short. I loved her very much for that.



Towards the end of middle school, Mom was gearing up in her push to becoming a partner at her law firm and I was spending more and more time on homework. Our chances to spend time together seemed to be dwindling to nothing. I think both of us sensed this subconsciously, but for me it showed in a general increased crankiness and more arguments with Mom. After a particularly irrational outburst, which centered around difficulties with my math homework, Mom sat me down and slowly, painfully extracted the truth from me.



“All right, Ricky. What is your major maladjustment here? You can’t tell me that all of this venom you’ve been spewing lately is just from problems with quadratic equations. You’ve been exceptionally rude and ungrateful lately and I want to know why. Are you having problems with someone at school? Is it something to do with girls?”



“Mooommm!”



Girls and sex were a very sensitive topic. I was thinking about them constantly. If I went more than fifteen or twenty minutes without fantasizing about fucking some female, it was a rare event. At the time, I was nursing simultaneous crushes on two different girls in my algebra class and secretly lusting after my French teacher, Mrs. DuPre and the lady next door, Myra Gordon. A few months before, I had discovered the delicious secrets of Mom’s used panties as well, which was a source of tremendous excitement as well as secret self-loathing. I felt like such a perv whenever I spunked in them, thinking of her, but I absolutely couldn’t help myself.



“I thought so. I had a feeling that the testosterone level has been rising around here lately,” she chuckled. “You can’t fool your old Mom when it comes to this stuff – you’re a glass of water to me,” she said, with a kind, all-knowing smile.



“God Mom, you’re embarrassing the crap out of me!”



Placing her hand on mine, she gave me a squeeze and said softly, “Ricky, the very last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable or embarrassed, but I have noticed some changes lately. You know I won’t judge you on this. I just want to know that you’re okay. Okay?”



“Okay, Mom,” I sighed. “It’s really hard to talk about though, I have so many confusing feelings about it all.”



“Why don’t you start by telling me who it is you think is pretty?”



“Well, in my math class, there’s Sally McPhee and Grace Kim. They’re really cute and nice,” I said in a rush. “I’ve talked to them a little bit, a couple of times, and I’ve seen Grace smile at me once.”



“I don’t know Sally, but I met Grace and her mom and dad at the last parent-teacher day. If her mother is any indication, Grace is going to grow into a gorgeous young woman. She also struck me as a very kind, genuine person. You’ve got very good taste, hotshot!” she concluded.



That made me feel real good to hear Mom say that, and I felt a little better opening up to her. “Uhhh, there’s a bit more though, and it’s this stuff that has me more confused,” I confessed uncomfortably.



Mom looked at me a bit speculatively and pursed her lips in thought, finger rubbing absently under her lower lip.



“Well,” she drawled, “Unless I miss my guess, I’m thinking that you are having more -shall we say- explicit thoughts about someone, and this is what’s troubling you.”



I stared at Mom aghast. She seemed to be looking through a window into my most private feelings. It felt as though she was reading my mind and knew everything about my secrets. It was at once alarming and strangely, a little bit exhilarating.



“I’ve seen you staring at Myra Gordon’s bottom, you know.”



Myra was our next-door neighbor. “Jesus, Mooommmm!” I felt like crawling into a hole and pulling it closed behind me.



“What about that is not perfectly normal?” she inquired, in a puzzled tone. “Surely your friends talk about who’s hot and who’s not, right? It’s also entirely okay to be attracted to older women too, you know. I’ve overheard you talking with Jack Hamilton about Mrs. DuPre’s ‘enormous rack.’ I also heard you threaten to punch him out when he said I was hot. (That was so sweet of you, by the way.) Your stick-in-the-mud old mom knows exactly what a ‘MILF’ is,” she concluded, an amused twinkle in her eyes.



If I could have blushed any harder at that point, I would have burst into flames. “Mom, you’re killing me! I’m soooo embarrassed!”



“You’re an absolutely normal young man,” she stated emphatically. “How on earth could I be upset that you feel this way about girls and women? I just hope that when you have more serious questions about girls and relationships that you’ll continue to talk with me. There’s no topic that is off limits there – if you’ll be honest with me, I promise to never, ever judge you and I’ll give you the best practical advice I can, if you want it.”



“Thanks, Mom. It’s just really hard to talk to someone about this stuff, but I’ll try to be honest.”



Mom took my hands in hers and looked at me seriously.



“Are we still best friends?”



Swallowing with difficulty, I simply nodded.



“Then you know that you can absolutely trust me, right?”



Smiling and touching my cheek, she continued, “I know sometimes that a guy needs to talk with another guy about some of this sex related stuff, but I also know that Gramps is not exactly the easiest person in the world to approach when it comes to this kind of thing.”



Mom was right on the mark about Gramps. In many ways, he fulfilled a lot of the needs that a growing boy has for a father figure, but when it came to women and sex, I guess his worldview was colored by the experience of Mom’s teenage pregnancy.



“The only thing I’m going to hold you to is being honest,” she said kindly. “I know how hard it can be talking with your old Mom about this kind of thing, but please don’t keep any secrets from me – there is nothing, I repeat, nothing that you could say which would upset me in any way. Even if you told me you liked boys more than girls,” she concluded.



“Ewwwww, that is soooo gross, Mom!”



“I happen to know that’s not true, anyway,” she said in a matter of fact tone. “But I do believe that there’s still someone you’re attracted to that you haven’t told me about, right?”



My secret shame burned within me like a small welder’s arc and my tongue felt like it was hewn from granite. I wanted so much to say what was really on my mind, but I was terribly afraid of what would happen. Head bowed, swallowing with great difficulty, I tried to speak but somehow, a twenty-pound rock had materialized in my throat, choking off the forbidden words written in my heart.



Reaching across the table, Mom put her hand under my chin, forcing me to look up. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Speaking quietly, encouragingly, she tried to coax my acknowledgement.



“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t be mad, whatever you say, whoever it might be. I promise.”



Try as I might, I was mute with fear. Finally meeting her gaze, lower lip trembling, I gave up, shamefully shaking my head.



Taking my hands in hers, Mom put me out of my misery, softly saying the words I couldn’t bear to speak.



“It’s me, isn’t it, Ricky?” she asked gently.



Tears welled up in my eyes and I was choked with emotion. “God Mom, I’m soooo sorry, but I can’t help it! You make me feel so good when I think about you, you’re so beautiful and sexy, but I know it’s wrong, so wrong! I feel excited and awful at the same time – I’m a horrible pervert! How can you even look at me?”

There it was, out in the open. I loved my mom, as a son, but wanted her so much as a woman.



Mom smiled kindly and enveloped me in a big hug, kissing the top of my head. “You poor sweet boy. That secret must be tearing you up inside. It’s okay honey. Truly. It’s okay,” she soothed. “What you’re feeling is normal – N-O-R-M-A-L,” she spelled out.



“I’ve known for some time now how you felt, but you need to know it’s perfectly okay for a fella your age to have those feelings. It’s really one of the biggest, best compliments a growing young man can pay to his mom. I’m not mad at all. Actually, I’m VERY flattered that I can get a hunky, young guy all riled up at my age – but more importantly, I still love my son this minute as much as I did before he told me, okay?”



“Okay,” I agreed with tremendous relief. “But Mom, you don’t look old at all. All of my friends say you’re a real babe,” I added somewhat boldly.



She laughed and ruffled my hair. “I’m going to have to watch myself around you, handsome. You’re already turning into quite the smooth talker,” she said warmly and strangely, with a little bit of pride.



Somewhat more seriously, she added, “Ricky, you just joined a club with about a billion other members. I wouldn’t worry about your feelings towards me for another second. You’re going to find out soon enough that this is just a phase you’re going to go through. It’s an almost universal phenomenon in young guys. You’ll work through it just fine and be okay when you come out on the other side of this – you’ll probably even laugh about it then, and I’ll laugh with you,” she said wistfully.



“My boy is turning into a young man,” she sighed, giving me another big hug.



Feeling greatly relieved, I got around to the other thing that was bothering me.



“Mom, I think we’ve lost some of the time we used to be able to spend together. It seems that all we can do occasionally is to watch a movie, but then we’re both so busy with other stuff, I don’t know what to do. I guess I just miss being with you, you know, hanging out. I’d really like to spend more time with you.”



“Well, you’ve said a real mouthful there, bucko. I’m feeling a little bit the same way, but you know things can and have to change over time, especially as you grow up some more. You’ve got your own life to live and build and part of that is being more your own person, spending more time doing things you must do and want to do for yourself. I’m not going to spend extra time with you at the expense of your regular friends, athletics or your schoolwork.”



She looked past me, eyes focused on some thought she was developing. “Tell you what, sport. We don’t have enough hours in the day for all the things we want to do, so we’ll have to make lemonade out of our lemons. Let’s go to the kitchen. Momma’s gonna teach you how to help with the cooking. That way we get a little more time together but we don’t have to take time away from the other things we need to accomplish.”



“Mom! I’m a GUY! Guys don’t do that kind of stuff!”



“Indeed!” she snorted in amusement. “You know Bobby-Joe Boudreaux?”



“Duh, of course, Mom. He’s the Cajun bar-b-que king on the Restaurant Channel.”



“I’ll have you know that he’s one our firm’s clients. He owns 5 restaurants, employs at least 200 people and is pulling down over a million a year, AFTER taxes. A casino in Las Vegas is after him to open a named restaurant in a deal that on its own is going to be worth at least 4 times that much all by itself.”



She then dug the knife in a little further. ” I also happen to know that he owns a Jag XK and a Lamborghini Gallardo, along with a condo overlooking Central Park.” She then whispered conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure he has at least 3 or 4 girlfriends in his current collection and I’ve heard that one of them models for Victoria’s Secret!”



“No way, Mom! He’s not even that good-looking!”



“‘Way’, young man. Very ‘way.’”



“Damn.”



“Watch your mouth, Ricky! I thought that might get your attention. Now, I’m not saying this is what I think you should do with your life, but I do know you’re smart, hardworking and creative,” she smiled. “You’ve already made me very proud, you know.” She gave me a big hug and kissed my forehead. “I suppose what I’m getting at here is that my client wakes up every morning looking forward to his day. When you get older, you’ll understand how important that is.”



“I’ll bet he likes waking up every day, especially with Miss V.S. to look at in the morning.”



“Hush, you naughty boy! You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about! The point here is that if you’re really good at something and have a passion for it, the material rewards will follow that too. Most importantly, you’re very likely going to be happy in your life.”



“Okay, Mom, I think I understand. Let’s get to work. What are we cooking tonight?”



“That’s my boy. We’re going to have a good time, I just know it. You’ll thank me for this later, I’m sure.”



“How so, mom?”



“Well, as young man who is now beginning to notice the charms of the opposite sex, I’ll let you in on a secret. Women are absolute suckers for men who can cook, myself included.”



***




With that, we added a new ritual to our daily schedule. I didn’t know it at the time, but this one change in our routine would have a profound effect on both of us.



While in the beginning I mostly went along with Mom to humor her and to just be with her, I gradually began to enjoy the actual process, becoming an able, efficient assistant. Our time in the kitchen became that respite from the rest of the world, like the days when Mom and I used to take a weekend day together to go to museums or the zoo when I was little. It became the highlight of my day. Being around Mom was somehow a bit more comfortable, although I still had my fantasies about her, but they seemed to be intermixed with the other erotic interests I had. She sort of became an occasional fixture in my “stable” of imaginary bed partners. It seemed as though what Mom and I talked about was coming true, and I was able to reestablish a more platonic, but still loving connection with her.



As our culinary collaboration progressed, I began to take on more responsibilities besides clean up and fetching. I became very adept at mis en place, to the point that Mom and I could fly through even rather complicated recipes in short order. Gradually, she entrusted more and more prep to me. Ironically, it was this increased trust in my capabilities that led to a fundamental change in how I thought about my Mom.



I can still remember the details with great clarity. We had been collaborating on our kitchen partnership for some time. We were working through one of Nana’s heirloom recipes for Bolognese sauce. The air of the kitchen was redolent with the aroma simmering tomato sauce, fresh basil and oregano and sautéed ground beef and pancetta. Mom was dressed in an old white men’s oxford shirt, tails tied off above her midriff, over a plain white bra and some fetchingly snug blue jeans. Her feet were bare. There was classical music playing in the background, one of Bach’s solo violin partitas, a favorite of Mom’s. In spite of our bustle in the kitchen, things felt very peaceful and relaxed. We chatted amiably about our day’s events, joking and teasing as we worked.



It was the onions that did me in. I had been learning how to handle knives properly, with limited success, and Mom was ribbing me good-naturedly about it.



“I swear, Ricky, I don’t know what to do about you! You seem determined to convert Herr Henckel’s finest creations into axes or machetes. You are NOT hacking your way through the jungle or splitting firewood here, you are cooking! You take four times as long as I do for the same thing, and half of that ends up scattered on the table and floor.”



“Sorry Mom, it’s difficult to get the coordination down. I’m afraid I’ll add fingertips to the carrots if I go as fast as you.”



“Nonsense! Let me show you. We’ll do this onion. With that, she came around behind me, her front to my back, reaching her hands around to cover mine as I held the knife. “First, know that the curve of the blade is there for a reason. It’s your friend. You don’t pick up the knife for each chop, you rock along the curve of the blade, maintaining tip contact with the cutting board, like this. You keep the blade in one place, you feed the food under it. Yes, that’s it. Curl your fingertips to protect them as you push.”



Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I was acutely aware of her contact with me. I felt the heat of her hands on mine, her warm breath on my right ear as she spoke and the soft contact of her breasts against my back, the pressure of her pelvis against my buttocks. I could smell her shampoo and the faint, clean scent of plain soap and sandalwood from her favorite perfume.



I whispered a prayer of thanks for the apron I was wearing, because I was suddenly sporting the hardest, most rampant erection of my young life. Her embrace of instruction had unintentionally, but lightly thrust me against the edge of the counter, multiplying my difficulties ten-fold. My member was positively throbbing. At the same time, I was afraid, very afraid. What if Mom noticed my hard on? As turned on as I was, I couldn’t bear the thought of what she would think if she discovered my excitement. Things sure didn’t feel like a “phase” I was going through. As much as I was aroused, I felt equally ashamed, guilty that I was still having such perverted thoughts about my own mother.



“Let’s do one more together, I think you’re starting to get the hang of it.”



“Uhh, Mom, can we take a short break? I need to hit the head.”



“Sure sweetie – don’t be too long, we need to get this simmering pretty soon if we’re going to stay on schedule.”



Carefully turning to conceal my raging boner, I eased out of the kitchen to the adjacent half bathroom, locking the door behind me. Dropping my pants as soon as the door was secured, I crab walked to the sink and drew out my cock. There was no conscious decision on my part, but it seemed that suddenly, completely and inexplicably, Mom was the central and only point in my erotic universe. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it just was. With memory of her touch and smell still strong within me I began to stroke. I lasted maybe ten or fifteen seconds, spurting six or seven huge ropes of my seed into the sink.



“Ooohhhh, Mommmmmmmm,” I groaned.



My spending was so intense I fell to my knees, visions of her bare midriff, the glow of her skin and the smell of her perfume forever imprinted in my memory. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced to that point in my life. What I was totally unprepared for though, was how I felt after I came.



Up until that moment, I suppose I was really no different from any other teenage boy. Jerking off was like scratching an itch that needed relief, something you simply had to do to maintain your sanity. In the past, when I envisioned Mom in my fantasies, there was always a vague to sharp feeling of guilt associated with my thoughts. But this time was very, very different.



It seemed as though I had crossed some sort of event horizon of love and lust and was now being sucked inexorably into a black hole of incredibly intense emotions, which I was powerless to stop. It was exciting and amazingly erotic. It was tender, warm and comforting. It was also absolutely terrifying. Terrifying that I should feel this way about the one person in the whole world I was supposed to love wholly, unconditionally and above all, chastely.



As I braced myself against the vanity with shaking arms and legs, head hung down, breathing like a steam engine, I struggled mightily to make sense of what had just happened. This wasn’t a “Gee, Mom, you’ve got really nice tits and a great ass, let’s fuck” five-fingered fantasy. This wasn’t a testosterone-driven libidinous itch. This wasn’t a little boy crush like I had experienced over some of my classmates or teachers in middle school.



This was suddenly realizing that the most wonderful, beautiful, desirable creature God had ever put on the earth was living under the same roof as me. The answer was inescapable. I was truly, undeniably and hopelessly in love with my own mom! Sweet Jesus, how could this be? How could things have changed like this, in a matter of a few moments? And yet, for all of the guilt and shame that seemed to come along with those emotions, there was an inescapable feeling of rightness about it all. It was simply meant to be.



Mom was tapping on the door. “You okay in there, Ricky?”



“Uhhh, yeah Mom, be out in a second. I just dropped the hand soap container.”



“If you made a mess, clean it up please.”



“No problem Mom, nothing to clean up.” I washed my hands quickly, checking the sink for any telltales, rinsing it thoroughly, then rejoining Mom in the kitchen.



“Ready for another go? There’s still celery to chop.”



“Okay Mom, let’s try that again.”



Once again she stepped behind me, repeating her earlier instructions as we worked through the celery. I didn’t think at all about the chopping, which was why I probably did such a good job. I concentrated on every second of her innocent contact with me, totally focused on those sensations, her smell and her voice. Damn! I was hard again and it had been only a few minutes since I came! I was rising on a swell of euphoria that had as much to do with how I was feeling in my heart as the sensations my Mom’s words, smell and touch were imparting to me.



“That was well done, Ricky. You’re coming along so nicely now, I can hardly believe it. Pretty soon you’re going to know as much as I do.” Mom gave me a big kiss on my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth by mistake. I hugged her strongly to my chest, inhaling the lovely scent of her as I squeezed, reveling in the aroma of soap and sandalwood and the soft press of her breasts against my chest. “Thanks, Mom. You know, I love you.”



“Ooof! Don’t squeeze your old mom to death! I love you too, son.” She held me out to arm’s length, looking at me directly. I had recently grown taller than her, so she had to look up slightly to see my face. She smiled gently and then released me, her eyes glistening for a moment, a small shadow of a troubled look briefly appearing on her face.



“What’s wrong Mom?”



“Oh, nothing important Ricky. Moms just get a bit sentimental sometimes. You’re growing up so fast I can hardly believe it. You’re already turning into such a handsome young man. I’m sure you’re going to leave a trail of broken hearts in your path before very long,” she sighed, a little misty-eyed.



“Maybe, Mom, maybe – but I’m only concerned about yours. You’re starting to act like I’m running away to join the circus or something. I’ve still got a long way to go before I graduate, you know.”



“I know, hotshot, but like I said, mothers are pretty emotional creatures sometimes.” She sighed and smiled with some effort. “Let’s finish up here. It’s time to start boiling the water for the pasta.”



With that, we returned to the mundane tasks at hand, but I was forever changed. A large part of me knew how sick, how wrong, how evil these new thoughts were, but there was another small, persistent voice I could hear whispering in the deepest recesses of my mind, calling out like a perverse siren, luring me towards the deadly rocks of lust and desire.



Outwardly, I was composed and cheerful, but that was all a glad façade. My head and loins were locked in mortal conflict as I struggled within. I would rather be pulled limb from limb than hurt my beloved mother, but oh, how I wanted her. How I wanted her, not just her body, but her heart as well. I wanted her to desire me as I yearned for her, showing her my love in all ways a man can do for his woman.



As I silently struggled to master this conflict, a very troubling notion intruded on my thoughts.



“You can’t hide this from her,” I realized in desperation. “She’ll figure things out very quickly, with very little to go on. Then what will you do?”



I thrust these musings to the back of my mind, concentrating on the tasks at hand. Our repartee and partnership continued until dinner, but my thoughts and emotions were in absolute chaos.



Over the succeeding weeks, I was able to keep things pretty well contained, but I absolutely lived for the slightest touch from her. Anything – a peck on the cheek, kind, affectionate words, a casual touch to the arm but most especially the hugs.



I was still wrestling with incredible guilt on another front, though. Mom now consumed all of my solitary fantasies, excluding all others. I sought out pictures of women with similar features and appearance through the length and breadth of Internet porndom. Any woman whose appearance met my standards eventually found her way onto my hard drive. When I discovered the wealth of amateur incest videos on the web, it became much, much worse, the unsteady camera work, disjointed web cams and grainy, low light atmospherics lending a twisted sort of reality and solidity to my fevered imaginings. Every boy was me, every woman my gorgeous, sexy mother.



I became totally paranoid about discovery. I downloaded everything though an anonymous FTP client, religiously purging my browsing history constantly. I went so far as to regularly reformat my hard drive to insure removal of all traces of my obsession. I transferred all of my downloads to a high capacity thumb drive and secreted it into a crack in the floorboards in the back of my closet. I could not chance even the slightest possibility of discovery. I was now past feeling bad about what my desires and fantasies were, but I was dreadfully afraid of how much Mom would be hurt by my secret, were she to discover it. It was this fear of hurting my true love that allowed me to develop some degree of control. It was often impossibly difficult, but I managed to ward off the temptation to escalate my obsession into more overt acts like peeping in her bathroom or going into her room at night. Often those urges were nearly overwhelming.



As I continued to lead my daily and secret lives, the year turned over and my skills in the kitchen continued to grow. I was now the line chef as often as I was the preparer, becoming adept at all manners of braising, searing, poaching and roasting. I also got a summer job working in the kitchen of Agostino’s, a well-regarded local restaurant. I mostly did menial work but was gradually learning the ropes of station cooking and food preparation.



Mom was impressed with my development, now often asking my advice on preparation or new recipes. Looking back, I can say that my enthusiasm grew from two sources. I really did love the process and creative aspects of cooking, but I think subconsciously, I was also ardently courting my mother through my efforts, seeking her approval, her respect and most of all, her pleasure at eating my creations. I never forgot her earliest words on the subject. “Women are absolute suckers for men who can cook, myself included.”



***




Under these circumstances, I contemplated the arrival of Mom’s birthday. I think in her own mind, Mom had reached the “whose counting” stage, but if anything, she was looking better and better to me with each passing year. I knew I wanted to do something extra special for her, and I wanted to do it in the kitchen (I really wanted to do much more than cook in the kitchen with her, but I was still managing to keep up some semblance of a barrier between my waking and nocturnal lives.) I approached Nana with my idea.



“Nan – can you help me out? I want to do something special for Mom’s birthday, but I don’t have enough money. I’m about forty bucks short of what I need,” I explained, outlining my plan. As I laid out the details, Nana broke out into a huge grin.

“Ricky! What a wonderful and thoughtful idea. Jen will be absolutely thrilled. You can count on me. We’ll make sure to have your mom out of the house for the day for your preparations. Don’t you worry about your budget – I’ve got your back on this one. I do have one suggestion, though,” she paused. I listened attentively. Nana was the best chef of all of us and I knew that Mom’s own considerable abilities were due in large measure to her mother’s tutelage.



“I have two words for you, young chef: ‘St. Emilion.’ Yes,” she mused, “Preferably a ’95 or ’98, since this is a special occasion.”



I was still very early in my knowledge of cooking and knew even less about wines. “Isn’t that pretty expensive, Nan?”



“Yes indeed, but with your permission, I’d like to make it our contribution to the celebration. Besides,” she teased, “If you slip up on the dinner, we’ll have a great bottle of wine to fall back on for distraction!”



“Nana!” I protested. “No way I’m going to mess this up.”



She laughed and pinched my cheek as only a grandmother can do. “I know, grandson mine. I can tell you have been getting ready for this for some time. A noble effort in the kitchen deserves a noble wine to accompany it.”



With that, Nana and I set our plans into motion.



That year, Mom’s birthday fell on a Saturday, which worked well for our conspiracy. Nana and Gramps got Mom out the door before noon, leaving me to my devices. My planning and preparations went off without a hitch, leaving me a bit of extra time to prepare our setting for the repast. I had Nana’s permission to use her best Wedgewood china and the family silverware. I lit the dining room with candles and went back to my room to print out the menu for the evening.



When Gramps and Nana returned with Mom, I was waiting at the front door.



I took Mom’s arm in mine and guided her to the dining room. “If Madame will step this way, her table is ready.” Her favorite CD was already playing, Glenn Gould’s peerless rendition of Bach’s Goldberg Variations.



“Ricky, what’s all this? What are you doing?”



I escorted her to her chair and presented her with the menu.



“Happy birthday, Mom.”



Mom scanned the menu, her hand jumping to her mouth, covering it in her surprise.



“Ricky! This is wonderful, so thoughtful, so special! How did you manage this?”



“Well Mom, I had some planning help from Gramps and Nana, but the cooking is all mine,” I said with pride. “I wanted to show you how much I love and appreciate you.”



“My god, I’m so impressed! Look at this – it must have taken hours! She showed her copy of the menu to Nana and Gramps. “Soup, salad, lamb, risotto, there’s even an amuse-bouche!” she gushed.



“I had some help in intelligence gathering,” I said, nodding to Gramps.



Mom’s eyes narrowed when she saw the Bordeaux named. “Ricky, where did you get the money for this? That wine, it’ s nearly $300 a bottle!”



“Easy there, Jen” Gramps interjected. “That’s our contribution to the celebration. This is an occasion, after all.”



“It most certainly is. That being the case, I want to thank all of you – it’s simply wonderful. I can’t wait to start!”



The wine flowed and the courses came out smoothly. I was actually able to sit at table a little bit and savor their enjoyment of the meal. It was one of my proudest and most cherished memories.



When the table had been cleared and everyone’s chairs pushed back, Gramps cleared his throat and spoke. I stood at Mom’s side. Her hand found mine.



“Rick, I’ve been following what you’ve been doing in the kitchen with your mother for some time now. At first I wasn’t sure whether I approved or not. I didn’t want your mom turning my only grandson into some kind of wimpy nancy-boy. I have to say I’m very impressed. I’ve paid a lot of money in the City for meals which weren’t half as good – this was a real mature, fully realized effort and I’m very proud of you, especially since you did it for your mother. You have a true talent.”



Nana absolutely beamed and nodded. Mom was squeezing my hand hard enough to cut off the circulation. I was grinning fit to bust. “Thanks Gramps, you have no idea how much that means to me, coming from you.”



Gramps rose from the table. “You keep up the good work, Rick. I have a feeling you’ll do us all proud some day.”



Nana joined Gramps, walking out to the family room. Mom followed me to the kitchen as I cleared the table. Once in the kitchen, Mom threw herself into my arms, hugging me fiercely, kissing my cheeks and forehead before laying her head on my chest. “Ricky, that was so wonderful, so sweet and so unexpected,” I almost don’t know what to say. You’re the most wonderful son any mother could possibly have. It was all so well done, so much care and work obviously went into everything, right down to the music…I love you so much sweetheart!” She was tearful with emotion now.



“Please don’t cry Mom.”



“Don’t be silly. Women are allowed to get a little weepy when they are very, very happy, like I am now.”



I was acutely aware of Mom’s body against mine. We were in contact from thigh to shoulder, her breasts pressed against my sternum, her head on my shoulder. I felt sure that she could probably feel my heart, which was pounding at a mile a minute. Her familiar smell of soap and sandalwood wafted to my nose, intoxicating me more than any wine possibly could.



“It’s the least I could do Mom, you’re everything to me.”



Mom hugged me tighter still and I began to feel the stirrings of a major woody in my pants. I desperately wanted the hug to continue, but I also was frantic that Mom would feel my burgeoning erection. I felt absolutely certain that my arousal was obvious to Mom, but she gave no clue, continuing the hug. Finally, I simply had to break our embrace.



“Well, I better finish the cleanup. Happy birthday again, Mom.”



“Thank you so much Ricky. I’ll cherish this memory as long as I live,” she said with a tender smile, eyes bright with emotion.



Par for my course, I finished the evening in a state of elation and conflicted lust. Just before she retired, Mom sought me out as I was leaving the bathroom, having just finished brushing my teeth. She hugged me again, looking into my eyes.



“Thanks again Ricky. You’re so special to me.”



“You’re more than welcome, Mom. I’m so glad I made you happy.”



Then I did something so bold, so impulsive, so incredibly stupid, that I couldn’t believe myself later.



I kissed Mom lightly on her lips and then fled to my room, leaving her standing in the hallway with a stunned look on her face.



Once in my room, I flung myself onto the bed, banging my head repeatedly on the headboard in frustration. How could I be such an absolute idiot? What the HELL was I thinking? I began to fear for my sanity and self-control. The meticulous mental partition I created between my private fantasies and the real waking world I shared with my mother was in danger of collapsing completely. How could I let Mom discover that my feelings for her were NOT a passing phase? I fell in love with her more each day and my desires to be with her, to be her lover, were turning into an uncontrollable force, I feared. If she learned the true depth and intensity of my feelings, her revulsion and disgust would know no bounds. It was absolutely unbearable.



Not surprisingly, after a while there came a quiet knock at my door.



“Can I come in, Ricky?” she asked softly.



I groaned inwardly. “Yeah Mom, door’s unlocked,” I said resignedly.



She sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand, kissing the back before clasping it in both of hers.



“We need to get a few things out in the open, son.”



I nodded mutely, afraid to speak.



Mom began to speak, kindly but firmly. “Kissing your Mom on the lips like you just did is not appropriate, sweetheart. You do not want to go down this road with me. You’re a hormonally impaired young man who has a glaringly obvious crush on his own mother. I will not allow you to become infatuated with me. I will not allow any intemperate displays of your feelings in this regard.”



“Believe it or not, I can appreciate how you might be feeling right now, but you have to get a grip on yourself and learn how to control your impulsive behavior. I’ll forgive that kiss as a one-time, birthday indiscretion, but there better not be any more of those shenanigans. You will absolutely not cross that line again. There will be absolutely nothing more between us, except a normal mother-son relationship. Are we crystal clear on this?”



I nodded again, tears filling my eyes. “I’m soooo sorry Mom. I didn’t want to upset you or hurt you, no way, not ever. But…but…I can’t seem to help how I feel about you. I can’t get you out of my head!”



“Every girl I see in the hallway at school, every pretty woman I pass on the street, I always end up comparing them to you,” I said miserably.



As I spoke, Mom’s eyes bored into me, her expression stony, her jaw set and lips thinned with suppressed anger. As I watched her struggle to contain her emotions, I braced myself for an explosion.



Finally, patience and motherly concern seemed to win out and her demeanor softened for a moment. “I know this is probably very hard for you to cope with, but things are going back to normal as of right this minute. If you think you need professional help, we’ll get it for you,” she said squeezing my hand sympathetically.



Sighing, Mom got up from my bed. She seemed somehow shrunken, shoulders slumped and a bit listless. “I always felt that we had a wonderful, close and loving relationship. If you place any value at all on that, on the real love I have for you, you’ll get your act together right now. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that things came to this pass.”



***




I tossed and turned interminably as I struggled to fall asleep. Far off mutterings of thunder and dim strobes of distant lightning from an advancing summer storm added to my disquiet. In my dreams, I replayed my brief kiss with Mom over and over. The variations were endless. Sometimes she returned the kiss with great passion, other times, she slapped me and beat me or dragged me by my ear to Gramps. Other times, she didn’t respond at all, simply looking at me with accusatory eyes as she faded from my vision, tears running down her cheeks.



In my febrile dream, I was suddenly aware of the sound of my bedroom door opening. The hallway light was on. It illuminated Mom from behind briefly before she slipped quickly into my room, very quietly closing the door behind her. The light was nearly nonexistent, but the illumination of my fever dream revealed a diaphanous light blue peignoir, which did little or nothing to conceal her figure. She was clearly, gloriously naked beneath it. In the dim, silver-gray light coming from my window, I could just make out the movement of her breasts beneath the material of the nightgown and the hint of hair between her thighs. Her nipples appeared hard, thrusting pebble-like against the bodice of her gown. She was breathing rapidly and deeply, her breasts rising and falling hypnotically beneath the encasing, near-transparent fabric.



Feigning sleep, I struggled to maintain slow, steady breathing as I lay on my back beneath my covers. There was a brief creak and a slight shifting as Mom sat on the bed next to me. Opening my eyes to tiny slits, I could see her looking at me, her expression a curious blend of anxiety and resoluteness. Closing my eyes fully again, I was startled when I felt her hand on my thigh. It took all of my concentration not to respond as she gently stroked. Sighing, she slowly pulled the covers off my lower torso and legs, exposing me to the cool night air. As she ran her hands over my naked legs, she murmured to herself.



“So handsome…so smooth…lovely.”



Gradually, her hands moved towards my groin, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin of my upper, inner thighs, right next to my scrotum. Then it happened. Her hand gently cupped my sac, her middle finger drawing a delicate line from my perineum back to my balls. I was now fully erect, my cock moving lightly against my abdomen in concert with my racing pulse. As Mom continued to cup my balls with one hand, she gently began to stroke my shaft with the other.



“Mmmmm, so pretty…so hard,” she whispered to herself.



Suddenly, there was a warm, enveloping wetness over the head of my cock. I started and cried out, my eyes opening fully, all pretense of sleep lost.



“Oh, Mom. So good!”



“Do you like Mommy sucking your wonderful cock, Ricky?”



“Yesssssssss.”



“Lie back. I’m going to make you cum and eat all your delicious spunk.”



“Mommm, unnggghhhhh, I thought, unngghhhhh, you said we couldn’t….”



“I love you, Ricky. I…we…need this,” she moaned between licks of my shaft. Bending to her task with a will, she took my head back in her mouth and began jacking my shaft firmly and quickly. Overtaken by the intensity of her actions, I began to lose control.



“Ohhhh god, Mom. I’m gonna… I’m gonna…I’m cumming! I’m cuuuummmmmminnnng Mom!”



As I began to shoot, I heard a creak outside my door. Suddenly, it crashed open, with great force and speed, completely overwhelming the doorstop on the baseboard, its spring shattering into pieces as the doorknob buried itself in the adjacent drywall in a puff of white dust. Mom jerked away from me as I came, my cum splattering her cheeks and forehead as she turned.



“What the fuck is going on here!” Gramps roared. “What are you two doing?” Striding into the room like an avenging deity, he jerked Mom by the arm, slinging her across the room, where she fetched up against the wall in a sobbing heap. I felt myself seized by my shoulders, propelled forcefully out of bed as Gramps shoved me with all his might. “You little SHIT!” Shove. “You perverted bastard!” Shove. “You sick little son of a bitch!” SHOVE.



A sound of breaking glass, sharp pain and wetness as I hurtled out the window into the pouring rain and flashing lightning of the storm outside. Falling, falling, my mother’s plaintive cry fading into the distance as I fell and fell. “Riiiiiiccckkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeee,” she wailed. The ground rushed up to meet me and…



…I awoke with a moan, bolt upright, drenched in sweat, crotch soaked with my dream spend, my sheets damp with perspiration, blinking blearily in the golden morning light streaming through my window. Drawing a shuddering breath, I collapsed back onto my bed, shivering with the intensity of my nightmare.



When I dragged myself downstairs later, Mom was already up and about, sipping her coffee. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she was wearing an old, threadbare green housecoat over her man pajamas. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, with dark circles readily evident. Truth be told, I don’t think she looked much better than I did.



As I slid into my chair in the breakfast nook, she stared at me, her eyebrow raised in an unspoken question.



We just looked at each other for almost a full minute, neither of us speaking. I was tongue-tied and my difficulty talking only got worse as I saw her eyebrows start to narrow with impatience while she waited for me to respond. I felt that I was completely adrift, rudderless and lost. My brain knew what I needed to say, but all I could seem to think about was how pretty she looked, standing there in her simple cloth bathrobe.



Finally, shame won out and I cast my eyes downward, staring at the placemat on the table in front of me.



“Yeah mom,” I sighed. “I thought about things most of the night. I think I’ve already done some pretty bad damage to us, but I don’t want to lose what we still have. I’ll get my sh…er, stuff together from now on. I’m sorry.”



“Thank you, Ricky. You’re a good person- never forget that. You’re also still my boy and I love you,” she said, her voice hushed, choked with emotion.



She then lowered her voice and spoke seriously and slowly. “Just remember this, son: I know you better than you know yourself. Getting things back on an even keel is NOT going to be easy for you. I can sense the depth of your feelings for me, both good and bad. You’re facing a big challenge here and it’s not going to be as simple as saying your sorry and agreeing to ‘work on things’.”



Her voice broke briefly. “It’s going to hurt you a lot, Ricky, getting through this. I’m not sure if I can be there for you in the right way, the way you need, to get back on track.” She was openly crying now, her despair obvious.



I was on my feet in an instant, rushing to hold her. At first, she resisted my embrace, then gave way, head turned to my chest, wetting my tee shirt with her tears. I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. I was starting to choke up myself. “I’m sorry Mom, I’m so sorry. I’ll get myself straightened out on this, I promise. I’ll do it for you, I’ll do it for us. I don’t EVER want to do anything to hurt you.”



She briefly returned my hug and broke our embrace. She put her hands on my forearms, looking into my eyes with great intensity, “Now you see why I can’t allow this…this…thing…between you and me to go one inch further. Look at what it’s doing to us, even after that one little kiss! You have no idea how much it all frightens me. I feel like we’re on the edge of a precipice.”



As she spoke, Mom grabbed my shoulders forcefully, her eyes boring into mine, testing, measuring and probing. I felt naked before her gaze.



After an interminable pause, she spoke, her voice choked with anxiety and sadness.



“When I look over that edge, Ricky, I see ruin. I see ruin and sadness. I can’t bear that thought.”



“I won’t let it happen, Mom. I refuse. I’ll be strong for us,” I said with a resoluteness I did not truly feel.



“I hope you can, Ricky. It’s going to hurt you and it’s going to make you grow up faster than I want. I’ll try to be strong for you too.”



I’m not quite sure how we managed to get through the next few weeks, but we survived. We gradually settled back into our routine, even beginning to enjoy our time together in the kitchen again. I got into sort of a weird headspace while all this was going on, with some unexpected benefits. I can see in hindsight that I was, without knowing it, redirecting my attachment to Mom into other outlets. Subconsciously or not, I think that saved my sanity. My grades were always good, but I developed an ability to concentrate that was gratifying and surprising. Suddenly the A’s were coming without too much pain and I rocketed up in the class standings, much to the approval of Gramps, Nana and most importantly, Mom.



I’m certain that Mom felt that our little talk had helped to get me to redirect my thoughts, but as time passed and I had time to reflect on what she had said to me that morning after The Kiss, I know I came to a conclusion which would have appalled her. What stuck with me was what was NOT said, as much as what she did say to me. She never flat out told me that she just loved me as her son, in that way only. The other question I asked myself in the dark hours of the night was why did Mom describe what happened as a thing between us? And why was she afraid? What was there to be afraid of when she knew I still loved her as a son, and always would? Unless, unless she felt some of the same things I did? Unless…she was somehow afraid of her own feelings? Of course, I could have been reading way too much into everything, as much as I was in love and lust with Mom, thinking with the Little Head Override was likely. For better or worse though, I began to believe that Mom simply couldn’t (and probably never would) act on what I thought were her own feelings towards me.



***




My 16th birthday came and went, and I got my driver’s license. Against Gramp’s objections, Mom made sure I had use of the family car whenever possible. In private, she made the reasons and the terms of her support clear.

“Here’s the deal hotshot. You need to get out and socialize. You need to see how many wonderful girls there are out there. I can’t and won’t be the only star in your romantic universe. You’ve been as good as your word so far, for which you have my admiration and respect, but I think this is a very important step for you to be taking now.”



“I understand, Mom, but you can’t expect me to acquire a girlfriend with a snap of my fingers.”



She looked me up and down with a frankly measuring eye, reaching to squeeze my biceps appreciatively. “I think you’d be surprised, Ricky. You’re a pretty handsome guy. Your running, swimming and weight room time are paying noticeable dividends and you have a certain charm about you that young ladies will have a hard time resisting.”



“Mom!”



“But me no buts,” she said, brooking no disagreement. “My professional, womanly appraisal is that you are definitely hunky.” She smiled, squeezed my arm and ruffled my hair for the first time in ages. “Just remember, be your usual confident and assured self. The girls will be clawing and scratching to get at you, believe me.” She paused for a moment, looking at me more seriously. “I know you’re still carrying a bit of a torch for me, Ricky, but you’ve been good as gold lately, and I appreciate your maturity and restraint. You’ve done a tremendous amount of growing up in the past few months.”



“Dr. Mom’s prescription right now is to find a nice girl your own age. Do some necking and exploring together. Discovering intimacy with someone your own age is a sweet reward of being young. You shouldn’t miss that.”



“Wow, Mom. I hardly know what to say. I feel a bit sandbagged. Are you saying I should just hook up with one of my classmates, simply for fun?”



“Just get out there and see what happens, Ricky. You’re a very nice young man. I’m also sure you’re a gentleman and you wouldn’t deliberately hurt any girl you were, uhm, with. I just want you to have a normal life, seeing and doing all the things young folks your age do,” she said. I thought I could almost detect a note of pleading in her voice.



“Okay, Mom, I’ll do my best, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as you say to meet girls.” Inside, I was almost a little angry with her. How could I possibly make a serious effort to go out on dates with girls when I was in love with a woman?



“Remember, ‘Fortune favors the brave,’ Ricky.”



“As my general, my mother commands,” I replied, sketching off a casual salute.



***




I did my best to follow Mom’s advice, but it wasn’t easy. Having fallen hard for a real lady, I was not especially well equipped to deal with the adolescent game playing which seemed to be the stock-in-trade of most girls my age. I guess unlike most teenaged guys, what I wanted was something more honest and straightforward. Mom was right about girls being interested in me, though. That was a nice ego-boost, but because I was so particular and not into game playing, I quickly got a reputation as being a bit stuck-up and aloof. Well, I could live with that. Eventually, I did find someone who I got along with in Grace Kim.



As Mom had once predicted, she was growing to become a beautiful young lady. Tall, brainy, athletic and lithe, with long, amazingly glossy black hair all the way down to a major league great ass, she also had a reputation of being very choosy, a real Asian ice princess. It was with some trepidation I approached her about a date one day after homeroom.



“Hey, Grace, uhmmm, I was wondering if you were doing anything Friday. Do you think you’d like to see a movie with me?”



“I guess it would depend, Rick. I’m sort of allergic to explosions and bathroom humor.”



“Well, to be honest, I’ve been wanting to check out a double feature over at the college. It’s ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ and Jean Cocteau’s ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ When I thought about who I know who might appreciate the movies, you’re the first person who came to mind.”



“I’d need to think about it.”



“That’s cool. Why don’t you check out the movies on the web and let me know tomorrow? If it’s not your cup of tea, no big deal.”



“Okay, talk to you then Rick.”



Grace caught up with me the next morning between third and fourth period, stopping me by my locker.



“Hey, Rick.”



“Hey, Grace. What’s up?”



She looked at me very directly, watching my face intently as she spoke. “You know Rick, when you asked me out yesterday, my first thought was to just say no. A lot of the girls I know say you’re arrogant and full of yourself, but I’m not so sure. The movies sound really interesting. They’re not your ordinary date stuff and I’m kind of flattered you thought of me to go see them with you.” She smiled suddenly, her face lighting up. “I don’t think you’re stuck up, you’re just different, and I kind of like that. It’s a date,” she concluded.



“Great. Pick you up at 6:30?”



“I’ll be ready.”



***




When I got home, I told Mom I wanted to borrow the car Friday for my date. I’m quite sure she was actually more excited than I was, and maybe also a bit relieved. That apparent relief actually hurt a little, but for the first time, I began to understand a little what pressure she might be experiencing from my not so secret yearnings. It was a sad feeling.



Her face broke out in a large smile as I told her my plans, her eyes sparkling. “That’s wonderful, Ricky! Who are you going out with? What are you going to do? Details, son, I wants details,” she exclaimed, her voice quickening with excitement.



“Relax, Mom. It’s just a first date, no big deal. I’m taking Grace Kim over to the college to see ‘Pan’s Labyrinth and ‘La Belle et la Bête,’ okay?”



“Well, that’s a pretty unusual but pretty original first date. You certainly seem to do things your own way, and you definitely aim high in your choice of women, hotshot.”



“I always do, Mom,” I said quietly. Realizing that comment might lead to a conversation neither of us wanted to have, I quickly changed the subject.



“Grace seems very nice, Mom. I think she’s just about the smartest and prettiest girl at school. I like her because she doesn’t play stupid games and doesn’t bullshit.”



“Watch your language, Ricky. Don’t forget that a little ‘game playing’ is part of the landscape when you date. You need to get used to that.”



“We’ve been over this before, Mom,” I said with some heat. “I don’t feel like wasting my time with girls who have agendas and aren’t really interested in me beyond my looks or for status. Besides, why do you think I feel this way? One of the reasons I love you and Nana so much is because you both talk straight and are always honest.” I was very careful to include Nana in my remarks to draw attention away from my real reasons.



Mom seemed to buy into my diversion, sighing and raising her hand in surrender. “Just be realistic, okay sweetie?” She seemed to pause, considering her words carefully. “You’re a horse of a different color, you know. Most boys really lag girls in emotional maturity at your age. You seem to be ahead of the curve. I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but I think it’s because of other…things, things between us, from before. I worry about that still, you know.”



I put on my best charming salesman smile and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m fine and we’re fine. You know I’d cut off my arm before I’d do anything to hurt or upset you.”



“Thank you, Ricky,” she said softly.



“And I can still talk to you, ask you if I have any questions about, you know, stuff?”



Her face lit up and she smiled. “Of course, Ricky. I’ll always be here for you – anything you want to talk about, any time.”



“Cool. Thanks, Mom.”



Somewhat to my surprise, Grace and I really clicked during the first date. She was clearly enthralled by the movies, not ever really having been exposed to classic cinema before. I was a bit surprised and rather gratified when her hand sought and found mine during the monster scene in Pan’s Labyrinth. That creature with eyes in the palms of his hands still creeps me out to this day.



We had a lively discussion about the movies over pizza and soda afterwards and I think she was impressed with my interest and passion for film history. We walked back to Mom’s car holding hands and I actually got a rather nice, if chaste, goodnight kiss when I dropped her off at her home.



On the way back to our house, my male ego was preening a bit, seeming to say, “Yeah, dude, you got what it takes, you can do this!”



But as I basked in a bit of self-congratulation, images I had of Grace and me in my head, kissing, doing other things, faded to be replaced my true north star. Even after a very nice date with the prettiest girl in my school, Mom remained foremost in my thoughts.



Even so, after just a few weeks of dating, we became quite close, immediately feeling very comfortable with each other. I think Grace liked my laid-back, no pressure approach to our relationship and I appreciated her straightforward, occasionally blunt honesty. I don’t think I was ever in love, but I did have great affection for her and truly valued her friendship. She was also a fantastic kisser. We became an item, to the surprise of many of our mutual friends and continued to see each other through the end of high school.



***




The early summer following my junior year in high school marked a tremendous change in my life and Mom’s. I was within weeks of my eighteenth birthday. We had been still living with Gramps and Nana, I think by their mutual agreement, so I could have something that resembled the typical nuclear family around me. But that June, Gramps had started making serious noises about retirement. He and Nana were looking forward to getting out and doing some traveling, living their own lives again, I’m sure. About that time, Mom got her first partner’s bonus, which helped make her decision. She announced her intentions following a Sunday dinner, surprising the heck out of everyone, myself included.



“Mom, Dad, I’ve signed a contract to purchase a home over on Middlebury Drive,” she informed us firmly. “It’s time for us to get out of your way and live our own lives.”



In the past, on several occasions Mom and Gramps had “discussions” about moving out, which usually ended when he would say something like “What about Ricky? I don’t want to see either of you go anywhere right now. I never thought that I would want to be a parent again, but having you two around has been a blessing, and I feel Rick is as much a son to me as he is to you, Jenny. If you want to pay rent, I suppose I could live with that, but why make a big change? This will also allow you to save and invest more of your income for a couple of years.” It was a very sensible, persuasive argument, which had prevailed in the past whenever the subject came up.



I think Gramps sensed that this time the situation was different. Mom was well established in her career, had saved a very respectable nest egg and I was graduating in a year. The usual arguments from him were not forthcoming.



I believe that Mom was primed for another “discussion” and was surprised when Gramps simply congratulated her.



Of course, I was over the moon. Our own place! Just my beautiful mother and me! My mind whirled with forbidden scenarios and lecherous possibilities. I was raring to go. “Mom, when can we go see it? I can hardly wait!”



“Closing will be in two weeks and the house is vacant, so we’ll move then.”



“But when can we see it? I don’t know if I can wait two weeks!”



“I suppose a look won’t hurt. I’ll see if the realtor will let us do a walk through tomorrow after work.”



“Mom, that would be so cool. Thanks!”



You would have thought I was 5 years old on Christmas Eve, I was so excited. I was on pins and needles until the next afternoon.



When we got to the house, I found that Mom had been holding out on me. The home itself was nothing out of the ordinary, a well-maintained colonial, painted simply in white, with dark navy shutters. It was a modest three bedrooms, with a nice front yard, shaded by 2 large, old maple trees and fronted with a well-tended lawn. But the backyard, that was the kicker. We had a pool! I was floored. It was big enough for decent lap swimming and a high privacy fence enclosed the entire yard, with additional screening provided by an even higher hedge, which encompassed the whole perimeter.



“Mom, that’s totally awesome! I can’t believe you did this for us!” I gathered her up in a big hug and spun her around.



“Ooof! Easy there, hotshot!” Her eyes sparkled as I let her down. “Before you go off the deep end, so to speak, just remember that YOU are going to be the pool boy around here. That is going to be your responsibility, ok?”



“I’m all over it, Mom. This is just off the charts!”



“If you drool over this much more, you’ll get dehydrated. Let’s go inside.”



As we explored, I could see that Mom had put a lot of thought into her choice. The basement was built out into a very nice family room. The third bedroom was going to ideal for a home office for her after hours practice work. The master suite and my room were right across the hall from each other (Down, boy! Bad horndog!) When we reached the kitchen, I could see Mom’s master plan at work again. It was actually significantly nicer than the rest of the house and had obviously been recently remodeled. Mom watched me out of the corner of her eye as I took visual inventory.



“I like it almost as much as the pool, Mom. We’ll have a lot of fun with this.”



“It turns out that the previous owners were pretty serious foodies,” Mom said. “I was fairly sure that you wouldn’t have any objections to a professionally equipped kitchen,” she added with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile.



I turned to Mom and hugged her again (any excuse!) “I love you, Mom. I can tell you were thinking about me a lot when you made this choice. I really don’t know what to say. I’m blown away.”



She squeezed me back and then disengaged herself firmly. “You already said everything you needed with those first four words, Ricky. I think we’ll be pretty happy here.”



In less than three weeks, we were moved. Our first night together in the house was two days after my eighteenth birthday, which we had celebrated in style, going into the city with Grace for a small film festival at NYU and eating Peking Duck at my favorite Chinese restaurant off Mott Street. I had the pleasure of helping Mom spend some of her bonus check on furnishings, having taken on the terribly onerous responsibilities of putting an entertainment center together. We had a seriously good time hitting all of the various and sundry cooking stores, equipping our new kitchen exactly as we wanted. Through the process, I was continually struck by how closely our likes and dislikes meshed. It was actually really neat and unsettling at the same time. Once again, I found it becoming very difficult to maintain an outwardly filial attitude towards Mom, as in my secret heart I was struggling with the feeling that we were becoming more and more of a couple.



My secret emotions and desires aside, we really did have a very happy start in the new house. Unfortunately, it only lasted a few weeks.



***




We had just finished dinner and were sitting in the breakfast nook sipping a little coffee together. Mom was a little antsy, having been waiting to hear from Gramps and Nana, who were in transit to a week at Saranac Lake for a well-deserved vacation. Gramps had already put in his papers and was using up his accumulated PTO. Nana had already begun gathering a voluminous quantity of cruise brochures.



When the doorbell rang, Mom said, “I’ll get it. Why don’t you clear the table?”



I couldn’t hear much of the low conversation in the entryway because I had the water running in the sink as I was loading the dishwasher. It was then I heard Mom shriek.



“Oh my God! No! No! Noooo!”



I dashed around the corner, sliding into the front hallway. It was then I saw the state trooper in the doorway, and I knew.



I ran towards Mom as she began to sway, reaching her just in time to lower her to the floor as she sobbed in grief.



“I’m very sorry for you loss.”



“What happened, officer?” I croaked.



“There was a multiple vehicle accident on the Taconic Parkway – your grandparents were killed. It involved a tanker truck. There was a fire. We would have gotten in touch with you sooner, but there were…difficulties, in uh, identifying the victims. I’m truly sorry, son. Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked, unable to meet our eyes.



“I…I…don’t think so, officer. Uh, uh, actually I…don’t really know,” I admitted.



“Your mom looks to be in a bad way, son. Just stay with her for now. When you’ve got her settled, make sure you get a hold of her employer – she’ll need time off. If you know who her folks’ attorney was, you’ll need to talk to him or her as well, to find out about a will, if there is any. Mostly, you should be with her – she’ll need you.”



“Thanks. I’ll do that.”



“You folks take care. Here’s my card. If your mother wants to talk to me later, or if her parent’s attorney needs any details, please call me. I mean that. I’m truly sorry. I really hate this part of my job, you know,” he confessed, voice tight.



Mom struggled to her feet and I took her elbow to assist her up. Rallying herself momentarily, she took the card from my hand, glancing at it briefly. “Thank you, officer…Bennett. You’ve been kind and as tactful as the situation allowed you to be. We have things we need to do now, if you’ll excuse us.”



Trooper Bennett nodded and went out the door, closing it very softly behind him as he departed. I turned to Mom, putting my arm around her shoulders.



“Let’s go sit down for a minute, Mom.” I led her into the living room, where we sat on the sofa. She held herself upright and immobile, looking out the window into the front yard with a thousand yard stare. Tears welled silently from her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks and onto her arms as she hugged herself and rocked back and forth. I simply held her, not trusting myself to speak.



My own emotions were in chaos. For all practical purposes, Nana and Gramps had been my parents just as much as Mom. For them to be suddenly just…gone…was beyond any comprehension I could muster. It felt absolutely unreal, like it was happening to another person. I seemed to be totally outside myself, numb to the events. I wondered if there was something wrong or missing within me. The shock was so enormous I simply couldn’t react to the news. As I directed my thoughts outward again, looking at Mom, there was nothing I could think of to say, so I just hugged her, pulling her head onto my chest.



We sat together like that for quite a while, probably an hour or two. Subjective time seemed to condense as the shadows lengthened and dusk swallowed the outside world. It was now full dark. Mom was spent, head resting in my lap, one arm curled around my waist while she dozed. I had one arm around her upper waist while I stroked her hair with my free hand. A slight evening breeze stirred the living room drapes in desultory fashion, bringing with it the occasional whoosh of a passing car and the steady background of chirping crickets, the sheer normalcy of the summer night compounding our personal tragedy.



Gradually, Mom stirred and came to herself. “I need to get ready for bed,” she said in a monotone. Without another word, she stood and walked slowly upstairs. I went to her office and rummaged through her purse until I found her Blackberry. Paging through the directory, I found a number for her practice. I called and left a message on voice mail, explaining we had a family emergency and that Mom would not be in the following day.



Going to my room, I could see Mom’s door was already closed. I knocked gently. “Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, Ricky, go to bed, get some sleep.”



“Let me know if you need anything, Mom. I mean it, anything, okay?”



” I just need to rest right now,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.



I went to my room and proceeded to toss and turn for hours. Finally sleep took me, my dreams worse than my waking thoughts. Some undetermined time later, I was startled awake in deep darkness. The alarm at my bedside read 3:25. Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes red, and her face haggard. Holding my hand. She whispered, “I’m sorry Ricky, I can’t seem to get to sleep.”



“That’s okay, Mom.” I covered myself with the blanket and sheets, sliding to the edge of my bed, against the wall, patting the mattress next to me. “Snuggle up here, if you like.”



“Thanks,” she said, with a ghost of a smile. She lay down on top of the covers, spooning up against me. I put my arms around her, drawing her close, rotating my hips slightly to conceal my totally inappropriate hard on.



I held her tightly with one arm and gently stroked her shoulders with my free hand. I whispered in her ear, “It’s all right Mom, you can sleep now. I love you.”



Within minutes, she had relaxed, her breathing slow and regular, but I couldn’t fall asleep to save my life. I tasted black, bitter irony, knowing I would have signed a contract in blood only a day ago to get my beautiful mother in my bed like this, but now having to put all of my lustful-loving thoughts into the deep freeze.



Thank God she was wearing man pajamas. Anything more feminine and I would have been in deep, deep trouble. Sighing, I scrunched down under the covers, trying to keep my straining cock away from her buttocks.



Eventually, I fell asleep, only to be jolted awake by the ringing of our phone. I struggled awake, the room a blur as I tried to blink away the residue of dried tears in my eyes.



My alarm said it was 8:00. Mom was still out like a light, but had somehow turned around during her sleep so she was facing me, one arm around my torso, her face close to my chest. I could feel the moist warmth of her breath across my pecs as she exhaled every breath. I was suddenly aware of how huge my morning wood was, only inches from the front of her thighs.



The phone continued to ring. Grumbling under my breath, I quickly and gingerly worked my way from under the covers. As I straddled Mom’s form on all fours, struggling to get to the edge of the bed without waking her, my cock popped out of my pajama bottoms in all its early morning glory. Mom’s breathing changed and she seemed to stir. Cursing silently, I essentially rolled the rest of the way off the bed, hitting the floor with a soft thump as I stuffed Mr. Johnson back where he belonged. I then rushed quickly to the kitchen to get the phone.



The call was from Mr. Briggs, one of the senior partners at Mom’s firm.



“Hi. This is Art Briggs. Is this Rick I’m speaking to?”



“Yessir.”



“We got your message from last night,” he said in a concerned voice. “Is Jennifer all right?”



“She’s sleeping right now. She had a rough night.”



“If I may, could you tell me what’s happened?”



Having to actually say it out loud proved to be nearly impossible. My voice broke and I could not hide my anguish. “My grandparents were killed in an accident yesterday…” I couldn’t continue.



“Dear God. This is terrible, terrible news. I’m so sorry, Rick. I know from things your mother has said that you were all quite close.” Clearly struggling to marshal his thoughts, he asked, “Please let me know what we can do to help.”



“I’m not really sure, Mr. Briggs. I guess we need to make funeral arrangements and stuff like that, but I need to talk with Mom before anything else. Can I have her call you back when she wakes up?”



“Please do. Anything we can do, anything at all, she just has to ask. Have her call my private line when she gets up, I’ll be waiting.”



“Thanks.”



“Take care, son. We’re all thinking about you. Don’t forget, anything you need, any questions, that goes for the both of you. If you need someone to talk to, I’m available any time. Let me give you my private number.”



I took down the information and left the notepad on the kitchen table. I was suddenly feeling terribly drained. Pausing first in the bathroom, I made my way back to bed.



Mom was still asleep, her back now turned to my former position in the bed. I carefully eased over the top of her, back to my original location, scrunched up against the wall. I knew I couldn’t trust myself to lie on top of the bed next to her, so I carefully shimmied back under the sheets. As I settled back in, Mom suddenly rolled over, facing me, her eyes still closed. Mumbling in her sleep, she again burrowed her head against my chest and flung her arm over me. Sighing, I did my best to ignore the newly resurgent hardness in my PJs. Once again I could feel her warm breath flowing over me, her arm curled tightly around my torso.



The conflicting emotions I was experiencing threatened to drive me mad. I reveled in our closeness, feeling an incredible tenderness as Mom held on to me, but at the same time I was absolutely throbbing with desire, consumed by waves of guilt that I could not control myself for even one minute, especially now, when Mom needed me the most. How could I possibly be excited at this minute, with Nana and Gramps gone? “Jesus H. Christ, Rick!” I thought to myself. “Get a fucking grip! Your Mom needs you to be there for her and all you can do is get a boner!” I felt like an absolute shit.



Somehow, I fell asleep again, awakening later with a jolt from troubled dreams, as I felt Mom touching my face.



“I’m sorry, Ricky. You were moaning in your sleep. Are you okay?”



Struggling to wakefulness, I croaked, “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Just a bad dream. What about you?”



Mom gave me a ghost of a smile. “Thanks for sharing your bunk with me, sweetheart. I don’t think I’d have gotten a wink without you.”



“Anything you need, just tell me. I’m here for you, Mom.”



She sighed and a tear trickled out of the corner of each eye. “You’re my anchor, Ricky. You’re such a good son.”



I gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. “We’re going to be okay. Just tell me what I can do.”



“Please hold me for just a couple more minutes, sweetie.”



***




That first day was pure hell. We spent half our time on our phones, which were constantly ringing. Between dealing with the Ulster County coroner’s office, the funeral home and concerned friends and neighbors, we were totally exhausted by midafternoon. Then we had to pull ourselves together to go to our church to arrange the memorial service and to stop by the funeral home and wade through the painful details of the cemetery plot, headstones, caskets and flower arrangements. We agonized over the necessity of closed coffins and the knowledge of how Gramps and Nana died, and in the end decided that cremation would be best, all ironies aside. Mercifully, we were able to conclude the arrangements in a couple of hours.



By the time we returned home, it was near six o’clock. We were running on sour, empty stomachs and jittery with excess caffeine and fatigue. I made us some scrambled eggs and toast and we sat in the family room, eating mechanically, paying no attention to the insipid sounds of the TV, each lost in our own thoughts. Between my fatigue and the demands of the day, I felt as though I was wrapped in the emotional equivalent of cotton wool, everything around me seeming fuzzy and dampened. After a while, Mom snuggled under my arm and we just sat, neither of us saying much as we decompressed from the day’s stresses. I enjoyed our contact, all the while praying that Mom wouldn’t notice the ever-present, throbbing barometer of my love and lust, my nervous eyes constantly darting to her face to check for any recognition of my arousal.



As I sweated bullets, worrying about Mom noticing my rock hard cock, I lost all track of time. Unaccountably, our phones had finally fallen silent. Some time later, Mom sighed, got up and stretched. “I’m going to take a bath and get changed. I’m exhausted.”



I nodded and forced myself to stand.



“I’ll do the same.”



I sat numbly on my bed, waiting for Mom to finish drawing her tub. Once I heard the water stop, I made my way to the shower and cleaned quickly, retiring again to my room. Later, I heard Mom go back downstairs and turn the TV back on.



Although I was terribly tired, between the sadness and residual coffee buzz, I was in no condition to sleep. I must have sat for a long time, unaware of time, because when I zoned back into reality, it was dark outside. I could still hear the TV downstairs. I quietly made my way down the stairs to the family room.



Mom was sitting stiffly on the sofa, staring vacantly at the TV, her cheeks wet. Looking at her, I could feel my own tears beginning again as well. At that point all I wanted to do was to hold her and comfort her, making the last 24 horrible hours disappear in my embrace.



I went to her side and took her hands, drawing her to her feet. I led her, unresisting, into my room and tucked her under the covers, scooting myself back into the corner of the bed and wall, on top of the sheets. I put and arm around her upper chest and stroked her hair.



“It’s all right Mom, I’m here. Just relax and close your eyes. Let it go. Let it go.”



Gradually, Mom stopped crying and after about fifteen minutes, she fell asleep. I lay next to her for a long time, once again cursing the fate that had finally brought my mother into my bed in this way. After an interminable wait, sleep finally claimed me. My recollections are of a jagged mosaic of erotic images and guilt. At one point, I dreamt that Mom was jacking me off in my bed, both of us naked. Gramps and Nana were watching from the doorway, shaking their heads with disapproval before they faded from view. At that point, I woke up.



To my shock, Mom had thrown off the covers and was spooned directly up against me. I was sporting a painfully hard erection, which was nestled directly in the cleft of her jutting buttocks. Almost as bad, my arm had somehow gotten trapped underneath her, my fingers unconsciously molding to the gentle curve of her abdomen. I could sense the warm smoothness of her skin underneath the fabric of her nightgown and the slight, sensuous movement that occurred with each breath she took.



I was jammed up directly against the wall next to my bed with nowhere to go. I knew if I moved, I’d probably wake Mom up and there would be no hiding my aroused condition. As delicious as the sensation of my cock against her silky ass was, I was terrified of the thought of Mom waking up at that moment. I was mortally certain she would kick me to the curb if she woke up with my boner poking her butt.



Mom stirred slightly in her sleep, nestling closer to me. The soft press of her ass against me was unbearable. I was tremendously excited, penis pulsating mightily. Mom snuggled in even closer, sighing contentedly, almost seeming to deliberately grind against me.



Then it happened. With almost no warning, I went over the edge. Gritting my teeth with a low grunt, I spurted in my pajama bottoms, immediately soaking myself as I throbbed and shuddered against Mom’s wonderful, smooth ass. Dear God, what was I going to do? There was no way I could hide my cum-soaked groin from Mom if she woke up. I had to get up right this minute.



With a groan, I heaved myself out from behind her, simultaneously twisting and rolling over her hip to land on the floor with a loud thump. Unaccountably, as I maneuvered myself over her, I thought I saw the faintest of smiles on her face. She then appeared to awake with a start as I hit the floor next to the bed.



“Whaaa? Unh, Ricky, wasshappening?” Mom blearily inquired as I jostled her. She sounded sleepy, but strangely, her eyes were bright.



“Sorry, Mom. Gotta pee real bad,” I mumbled, bolting for the door, keeping my back to her.



“Please do, Ricky. I don’t want to wash any bedding today,” she teased, a wan half-smile on her face.



“Thanks a lot, Mom,” I groused.



After I shut myself in the bathroom, the extent of my release became apparent. The entire front of my pajama trousers was completely soaked and tacky with my semen, my groin and thighs sticky-slick with what seemed like a quart of my spending. I was confused by the way in which Mom seemed to wake up and the disconnect between how she sounded and her expression, but I was simply too sleepy to process the apparent contradictions any further.



I quickly set about cleaning myself off with a wet washcloth; shuddering at the touch of the cold, rough fabric on my cock and balls as I scrubbed off my juices. I rinsed the p.j. bottoms in the sink to obliterate the evidence of my cum. Rooting around in the hamper, I couldn’t find any old shorts or underwear to put on. “Damn, they must still be in the laundry room,” I thought to myself. I couldn’t very well put my now-soaking pajamas back on. I had to get to the laundry room without Mom seeing me through the open doorway of my bedroom.



Carefully poking my head into the hallway, the coast appeared clear. Butt naked, I quietly padded to my doorway and peered around the doorjamb. Mom was facing the opening, but appeared to be asleep. I quickly darted across the intervening space and made my way downstairs. I found a suitable pair of shorts and a tee shirt in the dryer and then made my way back upstairs.



When I arrived back in my room, Mom was sitting up in the bed, pushing her tousled hair off her forehead. Looking at me, she truly smiled for the first time in two days.



“Did you sleep well, sweetie?”



“Uhhh, yeah Mom, not too bad,” I mumbled.



“Thanks again for last night, Ricky. It seems I can’t sleep unless you hold me these days. I feel safe and protected when I’m with you. It’s about the only thing that feels good right now.”



“It’s the least I can do, Mom. I’ll do whatever it takes to help us get through this.”



“I love you, Ricky.”



“Love you too, Mom.”



“Now, if you’re through prancing around the house in your all together, I’d appreciate a cup of coffee.”



I blushed incandescently. Tongue-tied, I nodded once and went to the kitchen. God, I was so embarrassed, totally busted by Mom. I could only wonder if she had actually been awake when I came against her ass. Well, looking on the bright side, at least I didn’t have a hard on when she saw me in the hallway.



A short while later, I returned to my room with mugs for the both of us. Mom was still sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.



“Here’s your coffee, Mom.



“Ahh, thank you, Ricky. Now, what’s with this running down the hallway naked?”



“God, sorry about that Mom. I just wanted to put on some old shorts and a shirt, but there wasn’t anything in the hamper. If there had been a way to close my door before I went by, I would have done it. I couldn’t very well walk back into my bedroom naked, you know. “



“I should hope not. As much as I might like waking up to a handsome, nude young man, that wouldn’t be appropriate.”



“Mom!” Secretly, I was relieved but puzzled that she didn’t ask about my pajama bottoms. Suddenly, I was confused and very, very anxious. Did she know she made me come in my pants? How could she not notice that I should have been wearing them down to the basement to get my clean clothes? How could she just ignore all the evidence?



“Sorry, kiddo. I’m just teasing you a little. God knows I need something to cheer me up these days.” She smiled reassuringly.



“If seeing me naked is what cheers you up, then I’d say we have a problem, Mom.”



“I suppose I deserved that for jerking your chain, Ricky.”



“On the other hand, if that’s what it takes to make you happy…” I said, standing next to her, pretending to pull my shorts down.



“Ricky! Don’t you dare!” she exclaimed in shocked tones.



“Just kidding, Mom. You know I’d never…”



She let out a gusty sigh. “I know, Ricky. It’s just that things are just so out of kilter, so strange; I probably shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. I’m sorry.”



“It’s cool, Mom. Things aren’t very normal right now and we’re both under a lot of stress. Anyway, I guess we should get going now,” I added, deliberately changing the subject. “Are you hungry at all, Mom? Can I fix you something?”



“Don’t go to the trouble, sweetie. Just bring me a yogurt, that’ll be fine.”



“Soitenly!”



Mom smiled wanly and stood up, giving me a long hug and kissing my forehead. “You’re a good man, Curly.”



Not trusting myself, I hugged her back briefly and then left quickly for the kitchen, yodeling as I left. “Woop woop woop woop!”



Being a little goofy that morning definitely helped us get through the day. As for the rest of the week, the less said the better. The funeral and memorial service were about as painful an experience as you can imagine. The only solace there was the turnout. I counted over ninety people at the service. I don’t think Mom let go of my hand for the entire day.



I was still in shock, unable to come to grips with the fact that Nana and Gramps were just…gone. When you’re a self-absorbed, Mother-besotted teenager as I was, you tend to take a lot for granted. I never really, truly appreciated how much of my basically normal, pleasantly routine existence was the product of our extended family life together. Now, in the past few days, it all became excruciatingly clear how important my family was to me. I don’t think that I had ever truly acknowledged to either Gramps or Nana how much they meant to me, and now those things that had been left unsaid between us burned at my conscience like dull, hot iron.



The night after the funeral and service, there wasn’t even any discussion between us. At bedtime, Mom simply came to my room and we took our usual positions in the bed. This continued for another week. After sleep would come, I would awaken each morning to find Mom close to me, sometimes spooned against me, others with her head against my chest and on one excruciating dawn, her arm around my torso and leg thrown over my thigh, groin close to mine. On this occasion, I came as close as I ever had to yielding to my long-suppressed desires.



As she lay almost on top of me, I could feel the heat of her thigh against mine and the faint stirring of warm, moist air as she exhaled against my chest. As her chest expanded and contracted with each breath, the swell of her bosom would push against me. It seemed as though her nipples were stiffening as they brushed up against my bare pecs through the soft flannel of her pajamas and I thought I could feel them, pebble-like, as her breasts rose and fell against me.



I was so turned on by her closeness that the front of my pajama bottoms was already damp with precum, the tip of my cock practically drooling. As though viewing a surreal movie from outside myself, I saw my trembling hand tracing lightly along the smooth curve of her thigh, slipping up to the point of her hip and then sliding back to lightly, carefully cup one of her cheeks. My heart thudded and shuddered as though trying to escape from my chest like a trapped beast and my pulse roared in my ears. As I lightly squeezed her supple tautness, my other hand drifted towards my groin.



An entirely involuntary, hoarse whisper escaped my lips.



“Oh Mom,” I groaned. “So beautiful…” I sighed painfully, my voice a faint, despairing whisper.



Just as I seemed powerless to stop my first tentative caress, my other hand declared independence from my fevered brain and found its way to my cock. Five alarms worth of bells were going off in my conscience, but I had already slipped beyond the confines of self-control, the dreaded, secretly longed-for point of no return looming right in front of me.



Just as I began stroking myself, Mom stirred lightly, her lips turning up into a slight smile. The spell broken, I quickly and guiltily jerked my hand away from her ass as she stretched, pulled her thigh away from me and slowly opened her eyes.

“Good morning, sweetie. You’re already awake. Did you get enough sleep?” she asked dreamily. She was smiling gently, her face smooth for the first time in days, now only slightly careworn. I wanted so much to brush the hair off her forehead and kiss her



“I’m good, Mom.”



“Are you sure? I’ve been imposing on you for quite a while now.”



“You know there’s no chance you could ever really ‘impose’ on me, Mom.”



She ruffled my hair, this time more slowly and gently than usual, almost a caress. Then she bussed my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth. I’m sure that kiss wasn’t intended to land where it did, but for all of its innocence, she may as well have hit me over the head with a fencepost. I held my composure with only the greatest of difficulty.



“Thanks for everything Ricky. I can’t tell you how much help you’ve been this past week. I wouldn’t have made it without you, sweetheart,” she said warmly.



“I’ll always be here for you, Mom. All we have now is each other.”



As Mom hugged me tightly, I shuddered inwardly. How could she not sense the state of my cock? I was rampantly erect and the front of my pajamas were damp. There was no possible way Mom could fail to perceive my condition. And yet, she gave no indication as she hugged me, no sign that she was aware of my arousal.



I squeezed her back and extricated myself from her embrace. “Sorry Mom, gotta hit the head.”



When I returned, Mom was already back in her bedroom. I heard the shower start up. I threw myself back on my bed with a sigh. As I rolled face down into the covers, I could still smell her in the pillow and feel the residual warmth of her body in the sheets and mattress. Breathing in deeply, I rolled on to my back again, reaching into my pants with a groan. Grabbing a bottle of lotion at my bedside, I stroked myself furiously, my head turned into the pillow we shared, inhaling her scent as I sought relief.



After I cleaned myself up, I laid back, staring blankly at the ceiling. As much as I loved waking up with Mom each morning, I knew it wasn’t going to continue indefinitely. More to the point, after today’s little excitement, I was afraid that I’d do something stupid and irreversible if Mom slept in my bunk one more time. I was perilously close to the edge this morning and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to control myself again. With a mixture of relief and aching regret, I decided that I’d have to speak with Mom about it that evening.



I got dressed and headed downstairs and made us some breakfast. Mom came down a few minutes later, dressed for work.



“Mom, I thought you had the rest of the week off?”



“I need to keep myself occupied, Ricky. I can’t just sit around right now. You’ve been a perfect son to me these past few days, but I can’t lean on you indefinitely. My work is piling up and you’re going back to school in just a couple days. We need to get back into some kind of routine now.”



Mom took a couple of bites of the toast I made and drained her coffee in three long gulps. She gave me a long, fierce hug and kissed me on both cheeks.



“I’m going to be okay, Ricky, mostly because of you. You’ve turned into a fine young man and I’m very proud of you, you know.”



“Thanks, Mom.”



“I’ll see you at supper time, hotshot.” She took my hand gave it a strong squeeze. “I’m going to be okay, Ricky. I mean it. Things are going to be fine. I’m going to be sad for a while, but I know my wonderful son is there for me when I need him.”



With that, she hugged me once more and then, to my surprise, gave me a quick peck on the lips just before sweeping out the door.



I stood there getting linoleum burns on my chin for a couple of seconds before I got my brain back in gear. I dashed towards the garage but something made me stop in the darkened doorway. I could see Mom inside her car, leaning forward. Both hands gripped the steering wheel and her forehead rested against its top. She stayed in that position for a couple of moments and then slowly raised her, head, tilting the rearview mirror to look at herself. She appeared to stare at her reflection, unblinking for about ten or fifteen seconds and then shook her head with a small smile and then turning, backed out of the garage. I didn’t see her again until after six.



That evening, things were determinedly back to normal. Mom ate dinner quickly and retired to her office to work on her backlog. I watched TV until bedtime. Mom came out of her office, gave me a perfunctory peck on my cheek and a quick hug and then bade me goodnight. She strode purposefully into her own room, closed the door quietly and that was that.



Well, one “pressing” problem was now solved. I no longer had to worry about resisting the temptation to molest my mother every morning. I was now left with the mystery of Mom’s kiss and her behavior in the car before she left for work. I couldn’t begin to fathom what had happened, especially with Mom so decisively returning things to routine when she got home, but I still had the strange feeling that the universe had slipped just a little bit sideways into territory that I didn’t fully understand. I had a very clear sense that my relationship with Mom had subtly changed, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.



***




Going back to school was incredibly difficult. We barely had time to arrange the funeral and I then was back in classes with Gramps and Nana not in the ground for even a week. Sorting out my own feelings and being there for Mom seemed to take all the energy I had. I kept my grades up reasonably well, but mentally and emotionally, I felt like I was wading through hip deep mud. Not only was I trying to cope with the loss of my other parents, I still felt very guilty about my reactions to the time when Mom was sharing my bed.



It wasn’t until after New Year’s that I felt as though we were finally returning to some semblance of normal. I won’t go into what the holidays were like, except to say that Mom and I leaned on each other, a lot. Fortunately, when one of us was in a funk, the other was usually able to be there.



I was right in my going-back-to-school ruminations about Mom, and me though. We were always close, sharing just about everything with one another, being very open, but now I felt as though there was almost a deference in some of her interactions with me. There was little if any of the old, traditional parent child nagging about doing chores, homework or cleaning “that pigsty you call a bedroom.”



We talked about paying bills, priorities for repairing stuff around the house, coordinating household errands and shopping, things of that nature. It was kind of weird, but felt really good on another level. Mom was making me feel much more adult and treating very much as the man of the house. I think she was letting me know that she considered me to be really growing up and I relished those feelings. I wanted her to feel proud of me, proud of how I was taking care of her. As with any change though, there were unintended consequences which Mom seemed completely unaware of.



Nana and Gramps’ passing couldn’t help but make us closer and more dependent on one another, but being treated in grown up fashion by Mom heightened my sense of us being a couple to an almost painful degree. I never let on how much my change in status affected me, how much it intensified my feelings for Mom. I tried to submerge those emotions as much as possible, concentrating on schoolwork, my part time job at Agostino’s and going out with Grace.



My sublimation must have been effective, because my grades stayed high. Shortly after the holidays, I started getting acceptances from various colleges. Those, which were more than a couple hours away, I rejected out of hand, having no intention of being any significant distance from Mom. We had one of our very rare arguments during this period when I wanted to turn down an offer to attend Georgetown



The day the letter arrived was a Friday, which meant I went straight from school to Uncle Louie’s, setting up and cleaning the dining room, checking to make sure the cooking stations were properly set up and then helping with mis en place.



When I dragged my butt home that evening, Mom was waiting in the kitchen, sitting in the nook. The minute I came through the door, I could sense her excitement. She sprang up from her chair, brandishing a thick, official looking envelope as she rushed to hug me.



“It’s wonderful news, Ricky! Just wonderful! You’ve been accepted to Georgetown! I’m so proud of you honey, just so proud!” she exclaimed, beginning to get a bit weepy.



I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, but did my best to conceal my dismay. Georgetown was, along with William and Mary and Northwestern, one of the places that was farthest away from Mom. I had only applied to them to humor her. In my heart, I had no intention of ever being that far away.



I already had acceptances in hand from Montclair State and Rutgers, but in Mom’s mind, those were, at best, second tier choices, only to be tolerated if something better failed to materialize. I considered Princeton to be an absolute pipe dream, as did Mom, so we didn’t even bother with that. I did roll the dice though, with both Columbia and NYU. At that point, I had heard nothing from either place. I was out of the time window for immediate rejection, but as yet I had no idea where I stood with those schools. The wait was killing me.



“Uhm, that’s great Mom,” I said with minimal enthusiasm.



“Ricky!” she scolded furiously. ‘What the hell is the matter with you? An acceptance from a top school with a merit scholarship, no less, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders? Jesus, anybody else would be doing cartwheels right now! What’s going on here?” she asked, eyebrows narrowing in suspicion.



“Sorry Mom, I just guess I’m a little tired,” I lied, giving her a weak, half smile.



“That’s complete and utter bullshit, Ricky,” she scolded, startling me with her profanity. Mom hardly ever swore under any circumstances and even less so at me.



“Out with it, boy. What’s on your mind? I know it’s not because you’re tired, so ‘fess up,” she pressed. “You owe me an explanation for that reaction, buster.”



I think I must have been too tired, because I spat out my answer without any thought, not taking any care to say things carefully.



“It’s too darn far, Mom! I don’t want to be so far from home! I just don’t!” I snapped angrily.



Mom sat back heavily in her chair, brow furrowed, looking me up and down with a measuring stare.



Heaving a sigh, she looked down at the tabletop, clearly struggling to find words.



Finally, she exhaled heavily and looked up, disillusionment clearly written on her face.



“I’m very disappointed, Ricky. I know how close we are, how that’s affecting your decisions and believe me, it touches me that you still feel that way, especially at your age. I treasure that more than you’ll ever know.”



“But, “she said firmly, lowering the boom,” But you’ve GOT to go to the best school you can. Just look at me, Ricky. I got off to a horrible start, but everything that I have now, all the things that are precious in my life; they come from the education I received. The professional accomplishments, my income and independence and most importantly, the good home I’ve been able to provide for my lovely son, they all come from the choices I made, to better myself, to do the best I could, from taking advantage of all my opportunities.”



“If you miss this chance, if you do one bit less than the best you can, it will break my heart,” she said heavily. “I’ll still love you. I always will, but if you deliberately settle for less than you deserve, then you’ll lose my respect. Do you really want that to happen, Ricky? Do you?”



Wow, talk about using the nuclear option. Mom surely wasn’t playing fair. She knew that the one thing in the world that I valued the most was her good opinion of me. I knew then that as much as I loved and wanted her, if she was going to be disappointed with my choice, losing faith in me, then there was not the slightest chance that we could ever be together. I felt trapped, completely hemmed in by fate.



Taking the letter from her, I quickly scanned the terms, taking a little heart. Squeezing her hand, I smiled and surrendered.



“I promise I’ll go to the best school I can, Mom,” I reassured her.



Then I threw the dice, hoping for the best.



“Mom, what if I get into NYU or Columbia? What do you think of those schools?”



“Ricky, if that happened, I’d jump all over it,” she said without hesitation.



“In a New York minute?” I joked.



Mom threw back her head and laughed delightedly, then pushed her chair back and got up, coming over to sit in my lap, kissing my forehead, arms around my neck. God, what that did to me. I wanted to bottle that moment, preserve it forever.



Trying to distract myself, I said, “Tell you what, Mom. This letter says I have two weeks to accept the offer. Can we wait that long, see if anything else happens?”



“That’s fair. But we’re agreed, right, Ricky? The best possible school?”



“It’s a deal, Mom. I promise.”



Snuggling further into my lap, Mom laid her head on my shoulder, squeezing me tight.



“You’re my wonderful, smart son. I love you, Ricky.”



“Love you too, Mom. Can I get up now? I need a shower.”



“What’s the matter, son, too much mommy mush?” she teased.



My need to get up had nothing to do with too much mush, quite the opposite. In about another five seconds, Mom was going to find her son’s cock poking her bottom, which would definitely end the evening on an awkward note.



Dissembling as I stood, I did my best parody of an embarrassed country boy, scuffing my shoes on the floor.



“Aw, gee, shucks, Ma, y’all are makin’ lil’ ole me blush.”



“Go get cleaned up, stinker,” she said warmly, swatting my butt to move me along.



***




I went to bed that evening satisfied that I had dodged a big bullet, but I still had no idea if either of my first choices would come through.



The very next day, I hit rock bottom. I got one of those thin little envelopes from NYU. Hands shaking as I opened it, I knew that my options were dwindling. It wasn’t an outright rejection. I was wait listed, but knowing what I did, remembering my promise to Mom, it was as good as done.



For the next week, I was on pins and needles, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t have to go to DC. With each passing day, I became more and more depressed. My schoolwork suffered and I even snapped at Mom. The Friday following the Georgetown letter came and still nothing. I went to work at Louie’s and stumbled through the evening like a robot.



When I got home though, Mom was waiting again in the kitchen, looking very serious. My heart did little flip-flops in my chest and I felt like throwing up when I saw her expression. She left me hanging for about five seconds and then drew out a large manila envelope she was hiding on her lap, a huge grin splitting her face.



“Congratulations, Ricky,” she said softly, handing it over to me.



“That was just plain mean, Mom,” I groused. “I just about had a heart attack.”



I pretended to be a bit angry with her little deception, but inside I was performing the biggest fist pump since Tiger won his first Master’s. Life was starting to look good again.



Thank god for Columbia. It was just about the only place that Mom thought was better than my other, more distant acceptances. It still wasn’t as close as I wanted, but I could sense that Mom wasn’t going to budge on this one, and besides, I had made a promise. She made herself very clear just before I signed my acceptance offer.



“Ricky, I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. I love you dearly and would do anything for you, but you’re not going to compromise on your education. As long as I’m in control of the trust Mom and Dad set up, you will be going to the best school you can get into. And you will work hard. You will bust your ass to do well. This is the only time I’m going to say ‘my way or no way.’ Are we clear on this?”



I brought myself to an exaggerated attitude of military attention and slapped off a sardonic caricature of a Sandhurst style salute.



“Yes ma’am, absolutely ma’am.”



Mom’s eyebrows narrowed and she scowled, hands on her hips.



“Don’t get cute with me, Richard Alan Lindermann!” She snapped.



Oh God. The dreaded full name address. Every young man knows that when those words cross a mother’s lips, that the fecal material is about to hit the spinning ventilation device. I responded quickly to defuse the situation, stepping in closely. Taking her hands in mine, I kissed her cheek softly.



“I understand, Mom. I’m not going to give you a hard time. Actually, I’m very happy that I’ll be so close to home. I’m still going to need to see my favorite girl regularly, otherwise I’d be lost.”



Her features softened and her eyes moistened. She sniffed once and gave me a crooked half smile.



“Favorite girl, eh? There you go again, trying to charm my…uh, socks off.”



“Always, Mom, always.”



Abruptly, she drew me in and embraced me fiercely. The hug went on for more than a minute, her head buried on my shoulder, hands tracing my back and shoulders. Within a very short span of time, my usual problem began to declare itself and I made to disengage, but Mom wouldn’t let go. It got to the point where I gave up.



There was no way she could be unaware of my hard dick, but I mentally shrugged my shoulders and thought, “So be it,” deciding that for once, I wasn’t going to try and conceal how I felt. Instead, I concentrated on the moment, gently stroking her hair, neck and shoulders.



“I’ll always be here for you Mom.”



Finally drawing away, Mom held me at arms length, a tear running down her cheek. “I’m still going to miss you when you’re living in the dorm,” she sniffed.



“Now hold on just a second, Mom! Who said anything about living on campus?” I asked with alarm.



“Ricky! Of course you’re going to live at school!” she exclaimed in shock. “It’s an essential part of your college experience and I won’t let you short yourself on this!”



I swallowed hard and thought feverishly, trying to stave off what I considered disaster.



“But Mom, it’s not that simple. I’ve got to take the long view here.”



“What do you mean, Ricky?”



“Uh, well…it’s this way,” I temporized, thinking frantically. “Even with subsidized housing, room and board is pretty expensive. I know there’s a decent amount of money in the trust, but I still need to conserve, especially if I go on to law school or grad school.” I heaved a huge mental sigh of relief, knowing that I had improvised successfully, finding the one possible chink in Mom’s armor.



“Well, put that way, I can see your point. I guess I’ll need to think about it some more.”



“The train ride’s not bad at all, Mom. I can use the time to study and I’d be coming home on weekends anyway. Besides, I’ve really got a good gig going with Agostino’s right now too. There’s no way that any work-study job would pay as well.”



“No,” I continued with more confidence, trying to sound mature and reflective, ” I should be around to make sure that things stay fixed and make certain everything gets done right. You’ve got a lot of money tied up in the house and we should make sure that it holds its value. As the man of the house it’s the least I can do. It just wouldn’t feel right leaving you here by yourself.”



Mom was looking at me shrewdly, with a skeptically raised eyebrow, clearly dissecting my extemporaneous bullshitting.



“Using a pretty big shovel, aren’t you son?” she asked sardonically.



“I have no idea what you mean, Mom.”



“Phffftp! You don’t fool me for one minute, young man. Even so, you do make a few good points for once. Okay. You can commute.” She kissed me lightly and briefly on the lips and walked to her office, shaking her head, talking to herself.

“Man of the house, indeed!” she snorted.



“There is another reason I want to stay close, Mom,” I teased to her retreating back.



“And what would that be?” she tossed back over her shoulder.



“I’d be very, very jealous if you got yourself a new pool guy.”



“Would you, now?” she said in a coy, teasing voice.



***




High school graduation was bittersweet. Of course, Mom was there when I got my diploma, but the usual celebrations and festivities that typically accompany the event just hammered home Nana and Gramps’ absence to us. I really wanted nothing to do with the whole thing, but did agree to go out party hopping with Grace, my girlfriend. We lasted a couple of stops, but Gracie could tell my heart wasn’t in it. “What’s wrong Rick? You seem so down. What’s on your mind?”



I sighed. “I’m really sorry Grace. I’ve just been thinking about my grandparents, how much I wanted them to be able to see this. I’m missing them a lot right now.”



She nodded her understanding and touched my cheek. “Thinking about your Mom too?” She knew how close we were, or so she thought.



“Yeah. She’s been pretty down for the past week or so, thinking about me starting college in the fall, being alone. I worry about her.”



“I have an idea, Rick. Let’s pick up a couple of DVDs and a pizza. We’ll go back to your place and all watch the movies and pig out.”



“Are you sure Gracie? I don’t mind if you want to stay out and party tonight, I really don’t. I’ll even come back to pick you up and take you home, if you want.”



“Rick, you are so dense sometimes, I want to smack you. This is my idea. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t want to do it. Now, are you in or not?”



I had to smile. “Grace, you are a gem and a true friend. I’m in.”



“Great. We’ll pick out the movies while we’re waiting for the pizza to be ready. You’ve been after me forever to see that French guy’s films – what was his name – Clouseau?”



“Clouzot, Henri-Georges Clouzot,” I corrected. I was a big new wave and film noir fan and his movies were among my favorites, courtesy of Mom’s tastes and influence. I had been telling her for several months about Les Diaboliques and The Wages of Fear. We were able to score both movies and brought home a nice New York style sausage and mushroom from Salerno’s. We surprised Mom in the kitchen when we arrived, interrupting her own dinner preparations.



“Ricky! What on earth are you doing home? You two are supposed to be celebrating!”



“Mom, I just couldn’t get into it this evening, I was -”



Grace cut in. “I didn’t really feel like staying out and partying either, Mrs. Lindermann. Rick has been after me forever to check out a couple movies, so I thought this would be more fun.”



“You two are very sweet to be thinking about me, but I really must insist – “



“Mom,” I interjected. “We have a pie from Salerno’s and two movies in hand.”



Sensing defeat, Mom acquiesced gracefully. “So, what are we watching?”



Silently, I handed the DVDs to her. Her face lit up when she saw the titles and I knew I had her hooked.



“Ahhh, wonderful choices, Ricky,” she sighed. “Yves Montand’s first leading role in one and a young, gorgeous Simone Signoret in the other. Thanks so much, both of you.”



We settled into the den and devoured the pizza. Mom even let us have a glass of Bardolino each, with an “our secret” admonishment. I sat in the center of the sofa with my arms around Grace and Mom. I felt just a little guilty using Grace’s presence to justify touching the both of them, but only a little.



***




As my first year in college unfolded, it became clear to me that while I was going to finish and get my degree, I was most interested in actually working as a chef. I had parlayed one my summer positions in a local restaurant into some contacts in the city and decided that I was going to try to take courses at Le Cordon Bleu and the Istituto Culinario Italiano. I had eventually been awarded a merit scholarship that covered nearly all of my college tuition and with Gramp’s and Nana’s legacy, I could afford the tuition at the cooking schools as well, especially if I continued to live at home with Mom. I ended up creating an individual major in culinary history with a minor in business administration, which pleased Mom a lot. I felt that I would be in good shape for a career as an executive chef once I graduated.



While I progressed through my sophomore year, things began coming together for me. I was able to incorporate my training at Istituto Culinario Italiano and Cordon Bleu into my class and course schedule, even getting regular college credit for the work, on the condition of writing and doing research on what I was learning. It was pretty clear from the start that my time spent in the kitchen with Mom and my part time jobs at local restaurants were a huge asset. I was able to fully immerse myself in my instruction and seemed to pick up every detail without too much effort. Working under the most demanding and critical chefs I had ever seen elevated my skills to levels I could not have dreamed of just a year or two previously. My academic progress was also very good. Like the old saw goes, if you’re doing what you really love, it’s not a job.



By the halfway point of my senior year, I had standing offers to work as a line chef from several well-known restaurants in the City and a couple potentially very lucrative local possibilities as well. It was a heady experience, reveling in the absolute confidence that I had the right stuff to compete and succeed at the highest level of my chosen profession.



Through all this, I continued to live at home; my thoughts always still with Mom, but stuck adoring her from a filial distance. After Gramps and Nana’s passing, we became even closer than before, but I could sense Mom’s emotional fragility. I absolutely burned to hold her in my arms, to tell her the deepest, forbidden longings from my secret heart, but I somehow knew that she would not be able to cope with such an outpouring.



You would think that coping with this seemingly endless frustration would have put me in a professional as well as personal funk, but surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. My work in the kitchen was as good as, if not better than ever, because I was subconsciously pouring my bottled up passion into my work. I was taking bold risks and seemed to be in the midst of a burst of creativity that I had not experienced before. It was in this period that I came up with many of the ideas that helped launch my career a few years later.



On the romantic front, I suffered in silence, finding some shallow solace in the arms of a number of girls and one of my professors at the U, but I could not bring myself to fully consummate those relationships. It was totally irrational, madly unrealistic and definitely obsessive, but I still wanted Mom. If I couldn’t have her, then I didn’t want another girl or woman that way. Short of that, I knew that I needed some release besides Rosie Palmer, but that was as far as I wanted to take things. I developed considerable affection for several of my stand-in partners, but I knew they would never have my heart. As callous as it sounds, on one level, these other girls and ladies were almost practice for me.



As my graduation approached, I became enveloped in a sense of great lethargy and more than a little depression. My working life awaited me. I knew that I would probably have to move to the City, and although it was not far from Mom, I dreaded the upcoming change. I felt that once I moved out, there was no absolutely no chance that I would ever be with Mom as I dreamed for so many years. In my darkest moments, lying awake in my bed, I told myself that even now, in the last days of my time with my mother, there was no chance for us. Objectively, I had to admit that Mom had always seemed appropriate and in control when we were together, but I could not shake the deep-seated intuition that she shared at least some of my feelings. I could not purge myself of this belief, even though I had to admit that it was most likely the by-product of my long-standing, unrequited love, rather than a realistic analysis of Mom’s behavior. Still, it seemed to me that she was also more down than she should have been, considering that I was still going to be less than an hour’s train ride from her when I started working.



My graduation came and went, and I begged off on accepting any job offers, saying I wanted a bit of time off. The ambitious nature of my individual major had necessitated spending a substantial portion of each preceding summer taking extra courses, and what little time was left I utilized working in various kitchens in the City, building my skills and more importantly, my contacts. I knew the job opportunities were still there for me, so I felt no rush. I still hoped against all odds that Mom and I would come together before the summer was over, but I had steeled myself for disappointment.



***




It was then a great surprise to me to see a real glimmer of hope after my graduation dinner celebration with Mom. We had gone to one of our favorite trattorias in Tribeca and had a wonderful meal. I was known there through a number of mutual friends shared with the sous chef, so we had the special treat of a completely off-menu tasting meal, consisting of 8 courses of small dishes from the chef’s native Umbria, along with a flight of 5 or 6 different wines. Mom was outwardly upbeat, telling me how proud she was of my accomplishments and how much Nana and Gramps would have loved to see how I turned out. When the meal was over, Mom offered to help me paint the town red, but I declined, definitely in a bittersweet mood.



“Honestly, Mom, I don’t feel like partying. If you want to know, I’d be perfectly happy to go home and watch a movie with you.”



“The City is at your feet tonight, and all you can think of to do is go home with your old Mom and watch TV?”



“I get more pleasure out of munching popcorn with my special lady than any 10 clubs, Mom. And for the 5000th time, you are NOT old.”



“Awww, you’re still my sweet guy after all these years. You know just what to say to your mother. It’s a date.”



We made our way home, making unusually good cab and train connections, arriving back at the family manse in less than 45 minutes. It was a quintessentially beautiful mid-May evening, the evening air just short of shirtsleeve temperature. The sky was crystalline and a waning gibbous moon hung in the sky over our roof. As we strolled up the walkway to let ourselves in, we could smell a hint of lilac in the air from our neighbor’s yard and hear the sporadic chirps of crickets. Mom sighed and linked her arm in mine, leaning her head against my shoulder. “It’s been a wonderful evening, Ricky. I’m so happy for you and so proud of you I could burst. You have grown into such a fine young man.”



“Thanks, Mom. It’s all your doing. I owe everything to you. You’re my touchstone and inspiration.”



“You’re also a smooth talking little devil when you want to be,” she giggled.



“I’m serious, Mom. You have no idea how much you mean to me. I’m very lucky to be your son.”



“Thank you, sweetie. I could say the same.”



After we got inside, I changed quickly into my at home uniform of gym shorts and a t-shirt, then headed into the kitchen to fire up the microwave. As the popcorn cooked, I scanned the channels, looking for something suitable. Recalled to the kitchen by the ding of the microwave, I returned with the hot popcorn. Mom was now seated on the sofa, wearing a pair of pastel green man pajamas, legs curled under her as she scanned the TV menu.



“There’s a great double feature on the Movie Classics Channel, Mom. How does ‘Double Indemnity’ followed by ‘Some Like it Hot’ sound?”



Mom laughed and patted the sofa next to her. “Perfect! Come sit with your Momma and we’ll do justice to that popcorn.”



I settled in next to her as we watched Barbara Stanwyck’s interpretation of evil personified and the ensnarement of the hapless Fred MacMurray in her treacherous designs. Gripped in the storyline, we were on the edge of our seats for the entire movie.



“Some Like It Hot” was a perfect counterpoint to the first feature and although we could practically recite the lines to each other from memory, it suited us down to the ground. About the time Tony Curtis invites Marilyn onto “his” yacht, Mom snuggled up next to me, putting my arm over her shoulder. She reached across her chest to put her hand over mine, pressing it into place on her arm, giving it a squeeze. She sighed contentedly, laying her head on my chest.



I was elated, but confused. Of course, I was also hard. Carbide steel hard. One thing that had not changed throughout the years since Gramps and Nan’s passing was what any touch from her did to me.



I couldn’t remember the last time Mom was so physically affectionate with me, even in such a harmless way. Since high school, I had grown so used to keeping everything bottled up, minimizing our physical contact to the most innocent essentials, that I was unprepared for the closeness Mom was displaying that evening. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what had changed, but I was perfectly happy to roll with it. By the time the movie was over, Mom’s other hand was casually resting on my thigh, much to my utter delight and increasing bewilderment.



As the credits rolled, Mom disengaged herself from me and rose, stretching like a big she-cat. As she raised her arms above her head, the pajama tops rode up briefly, exposing her navel and midriff for a moment. I was utterly captivated and powerfully aroused in seconds. It put me very much in the mind of that time in our kitchen when I was 15, when I first realized I had fallen in love with her.



“I’m for bed, kiddo. I’ve got to be in the office tomorrow at 9:30 for a deposition.” Reaching out to me, she grabbed my wrists, pulling me up insistently. “C’mon, on your feet lazybones, it’s late and we both need our sleep.” As confused as I was by the unfolding events of the evening, I was even less prepared for what happened next.



Placing her hands on my shoulders, she leaned towards me and briefly but firmly kissed me on the lips. “I had a wonderful evening, Ricky. Thank you so much for everything.” She turned from me and headed upstairs towards her room.



If I was confused before, now I was dumbfounded. I must have been standing there looking like a gaffed catfish, because Mom looked over her shoulder and laughed. “Hit the sack buster, I’ve got a big honey-do list for you tomorrow.”



In a complete and utter daze, I completed my evening ablutions and stumbled into bed. Sleep was long in coming as I turned over the night’s events in my head. I had no idea what was happening between us, but I did know one thing for certain – something had changed. Beyond that, I simply couldn’t process what had occurred. As unexpected and delightfully as things had turned out, I was very nervous.



Against all precautions of self-control and discipline, the near-dead embers of my hopes and fantasies had briefly flared to life tonight and I knew I couldn’t survive another disappointment. My rational self knew I should slam the door on those feelings immediately, to save myself any further pain, but I simply couldn’t do that. I was like a gambling addict, telling myself again and again that the next hand I was dealt was going to be the big winner, even when all of my experience pointed in the opposite direction.



My dreams that night were fragmented, disorganized and filled with a strange combination of gloomy foreboding and exhilarating foreshadowing. One vignette remains clearly etched in my memory to this day, though.



Mom and I were having a picnic on a rocky beach. The sun shone brightly in a sky rapidly clearing of clouds and coastal fog, but the air was crisp and cool with a stiff onshore breeze that tugged at our clothing as we shared ham sandwiches and cold beer, sitting on a partially buried, bleached tree trunk. The turbulent gusts blew Mom’s hair back from her forehead and her cheeks were rosy with a slight windburn. She laughed, her hand in mine as we watched four children playing at the waterline, three girls and one boy. They roughhoused at the edge of the breaking waves, trying to push each other into the water, their gleeful cries blending with the pounding rhythm of the surf and the screeching of gulls overhead, hovering in the strong wind. Somehow, I knew without any doubt or question that the children were ours.



I roused with a start. Sunlight was streaming into my room, illuminating suspended motes of dust, which moved lazily in the air currents from my open window. As I awoke more fully, the last fragment of my dream did not fade, but rather came to full, lucid recollection. In all the long nights of my short life, I had never experienced a dream like this one. The details were so clear, so immediate and so powerful that they had the force of actual memory.



I’d never been a big believer in predestination or fate. While I am a romantic by inclination, I always thought that we make our own lives, putting in long hours, making sacrifices and taking chances to shape our future. I know that everything that I’d accomplished and what Mom had achieved had its roots firmly in the soil of hard work and seized opportunities. And yet…as I lay beneath my sheets, I had the overwhelming sense that I had somehow glimpsed a small fragment of my true future.



Donning my typical shorts and t-shirt, I padded downstairs. As usual, Mom had beaten me to the kitchen and already had a pot of coffee ready. Leaning slightly against the kitchen countertop, she was eating some yogurt, a partially devoured piece of toast on a plate next to her.



She was dressed to the nines this morning, wearing a form-fitting, calf length, black pencil skirt, slit to the lower thigh, with sheer, shiny black hose underneath. Her blouse was jade green silk. It was slightly V-cut in front, revealing a hint of décolletage. I had the subliminal impression of a sheer, pushup bra underneath. An elegant black blazer to match her skirt was draped over a chair in the breakfast nook. Once again, I was pierced to the heart, adoring my beautiful mom.



“Wow, you look fabulous, Mom! I thought you had a deposition today?”



“Precisely. I never waste any of the resources I have at my disposal. I always play to win, bucko,” she said crisply.



“Well, if I may be so bold, you’ve got quite the arsenal there, counselor. Let me guess – your adversary today is probably a younger man, maybe a junior associate or something like that. You’re planning to distract him before you cut him to ribbons.”



Mom came to my side and kissed my cheek. “You’re incorrigible, sweet talking your Mom like that,” she said with a wink, tossing her hair ostentatiously.



Changing gears, she then said, “If you have time, I made a list of a few things that need doing before the weekend, can you handle that?”



“Yes’m. At yoah disposal, Mizz Mom.”



“Thanks sweetie. If you can take me to the station, you can use the car, ‘kay?”



“Sweet. Ready to go when you are, my lady.”



As I drove Mom to the station, we chatted amiably about the upcoming weekend and her plans to dazzle her inexperienced adversary at the deposition. When we pulled up to the drop-off lane, Mom gave my arm a squeeze and kissed me lightly on my lips – again! As I sat there behind the wheel, a big goofy grin on my face, I slowly licked my lips, detecting the very slightest taste of her. Lost in the moment, I was roughly returned to reality by horns honking behind me. As the drivers behind me blared their displeasure at my inattention, Mom turned to look over her shoulder at me just before she passed through the turnstiles. I thought I detected a small, enigmatic smile before she was lost to my view in the crush of the morning commute.

I drove home slowly and automatically, barely aware of traffic and stoplights. I didn’t fully regain my foothold in this world until I was in our driveway. I sat in the car for some time, blissfully recalling those two kisses. What I felt was the slightest ray of hope yesterday evening had bloomed into a dazzling beacon this morning. I could think of no explanation for the amazing turn of events in the last 12 hours, except that Mom must have some feelings for me as well!



I was so giddy with excitement and elation that I could hardly think straight, but I knew I had to figure out what I was going to do. I had no idea where things were going, but one thing I was sure of was that Mom could not be pushed or manipulated in any way. There was no question that she was too strong willed and too perceptive to be maneuvered by anything I did. She knew me far too well to be taken in by any devious strategy I might employ to bring us together.



I was going to have to wait, however long it took, for her to come to me. I felt as though I would go mad with the anticipation, but I also knew I had waited eight endless years to get to this point. For the first time in my life, it felt as though Mom and I could really be together. Even so, my newly resurrected optimism was tempered by the fact that I knew Mom would want to be in complete control of anything that might come to pass for the two of us.



What was needed right now was distraction. Sitting in the kitchen, I looked at Mom’s to-do list. Clean the pool; check the chemistry and change filters. Mow the lawn and weed the mulch beds. Fix the lock on the back door, which was sticking. Pick up dry cleaning and go to the supermarket. Trim the hedges. I buckled down and got to my business. I busted my ass all day and just had time to grab a shower before heading over to the station to pick up Mom.



When Mom settled in next to me in the car, I tested the waters a little bit by pulling her close to me for a hug. She quickly set the tone, pointedly only offering her cheek for a kiss and then sat back. Okay, fine, just as I thought. Mom is definitely going to be the one leading this dance. Time to be patient.



“So, how was the deposition?”



Mom laughed ruefully. “Best laid plans and all that. I may as well have worn a potato sack. The boy-lawyer was there with one of the senior partners of his firm. The partner took one look at me and sent junior out for coffee and I had to go toe to toe with the old guy. It was brutal, but we came through pretty well. Everything else today was pretty routine.”



Changing the subject, I inquired, “What would you like to do for dinner?”



“Just feed me and I’ll be happy, sweetie. I’m going to have a glass of wine and a nice soak in the tub before dinner, though. Okay?”



“Sure, Mom. I figured to make a Caesar and grill a little salmon, keep it real simple.”



“That would be perfect, Ricky. Want to watch another movie tonight?”



“Absolutely. Do you have anything in mind?”



“Terms of Endearment is showing on HBO, is that okay?”



I sighed inwardly. Another chick flick, but what the heck, I didn’t really care, as long as I was with Mom. “Fine by me – it’s a date.”



Mom had her soak and we ate dinner. On top of the long day’s work, I probably shouldn’t have yielded to temptation and had the extra glass of Chardonnay with the meal, because I nodded off about 10 minutes into the movie.



When I faded back in, my head was in Mom’s lap. She was looking at me with a wistful smile, running her fingers through my hair. “My little boy is all grown now – a typical man. Show him a romantic film and he’s out like a light in 10 seconds flat.”



“Sorry, Mom. I was more tired than I thought. I probably shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine.”



“It’s okay, sweetie. You just relax, let your Mom reminisce a little while.”



Mom ran her fingers lightly over my face, brushing them over my forehead, down the bridge of my nose and along my cheeks. “When you were little, I used to do this to help you sleep when you were sick,” she whispered, smiling warmly.



“Mmmm…feels nice, Mom.”



She continued for some minutes, one hand cradled behind my neck as she traced my features. It was absolute bliss and I surrendered myself totally to the moment, memorizing every sensation. I had never felt so relaxed, so loved. I drifted off again, only to wake with a start as the credits of the movie were rolling. Mom was also dozing, her head slightly lolling to the side, the back of my neck still resting on her forearm. Her other hand was relaxed palm down on my chest, directly over my heart. I was completely quiet for several minutes, savoring the perfection of the moment. As I lay in her lap, I began to feel a familiar stirring in the south forty. Not wanting Mom to be aware, I shifted slightly, but she awoke with a start.



“Goodness, I really dozed off too, didn’t I?” she exclaimed.



I took her hand from my chest and kissed it. It was done chastely, with affection, but I noticed Mom drew her breath in a bit as my lips lingered just the slightest amount. “It was really nice just to sit with you tonight, Mom. It was special, like old times.”



We roused ourselves from the sofa and made our way upstairs. Mom went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, no kiss for me this evening. Heaving a sigh, I went to my bathroom to take a shower and get ready for bed. When I came out, drying my hair with a towel, I was enveloped in silence. I could hear every small noise of the house, from the dripping of a faucet in the kitchen to the ticking of our grandfather clock in the foyer. There was a feeling of strange tension, of hushed expectation in the air. I had a weird premonition that something, I knew not what, but something was going to happen.



As I passed through the tight, constrained silence of the hallway, going by Mom’s door, I heard the faint creak of her bed frame and a soft sigh. Hardly daring to breath, I paused. The silence around me was oppressive, alive and pregnant with possibility and anticipation.



Then I heard it again, another soft, drawn out exhalation of erotic delight.



Although I had relieved myself in the shower, hearing Mom, imagining what was happening on the other side of the threshold had me sporting a railroad spike in seconds. Shifting my weight with the greatest of care, I brought my ear close to the door. I could hear a very faint squeaking of her mattress and an occasional quiet moan.



I was so aroused, I was practically catatonic, my hand irresistibly drawn to my now-rampant penis. As I listened to Mom pleasure herself, I stroked myself furiously. I was nowhere near close to my own release, having just brought myself off in the shower. It was then I heard her voice, just above a whisper. “Oh God. Oh my God! Oh God! Ohhhh, Ricky, baby, Mommy’s commiinnnngggg!”



Those whispered, barely audible words were a blinding, searing bolt direct to the pleasure center of my brain, cutting completely across the chaos of my thoughts and emotions, striking home with the accuracy of a sniper’s bullet. I came on the spot, ejaculating so powerfully that my seed must have flown 3 feet across the carpet. My leg buckled and I almost fell to my knees. When I returned to my senses, the danger of my position hit me and I scrambled to silently towel up my mess and get back to my room undetected. Lying in bed, I was actually trembling with the intensity of the memory. I couldn’t get Mom’s voice out of my head and it took every ounce of my self-control to keep from going straight to her room. To this day, I can still hear her calling out softly at the peak of her pleasure.



Things continued for about another month in this fashion, the occasional kiss and listening at Mom’s door when I could get away with it. Don’t get me wrong; even though things seemed to be moving a glacial pace, but compared to just a few short months ago, the difference in my life was night and day. It’s amazing what even the smallest shred of hope can do for your outlook.



***




“What do you say, Mom? How about we go out tomorrow and see the celebration at Riverside Park? I’m thinking I’ll pack a picnic and we’ll have a late supper and listen to the bands before the fireworks.”



“So, is this supposed to be a date, then?”



“Nah, not a date – just a basic 4th of July celebration with my lovely mother. What could be more traditional, more American than that?”



“I’ll have to check with my social secretary to see if I can clear a spot for you, but I’ll tentatively say yes – but only because you’re family.” She spoke with mock gravity, but with a twinkle in her eyes.



“I’m very relieved that I’m still in your good graces,” I shot back with theatric sarcasm.



“Being a smart-aleck will not advance your cause, young man. I bet I could still paddle you for your insolence.”



“I will submit myself to your discipline if you promise to wear five inch heels and fishnets when you spank me,” I teased.



Mom’s eyes widened briefly in surprise at my reply, but it was simply such an outrageous, over-the-top response that in the end, she couldn’t take it seriously.



She threw back her head and laughed, “You wish, brat!”



***




The Fourth dawned heavily in muggy fashion, the sunrise cloaked by an army of rapidly forming thunderheads. The sky glowered with the promise of a drenching downpour. As I sat up in bed, already slightly sweaty, I could see towering, gray-black nimbus clouds moving in rapidly from the east, foreshadowing the thunderstorms we could expect during the day. I hoped that the passing front would make the evening more pleasant.



Slipping on shorts and a tank top, I went downstairs. Mom was still in bed, her door closed. I put a pot of coffee on and then heard Mom’s shower start up. I cut up some fresh fruit while I was waiting for her to come down and made some toast. She came down to the kitchen wearing one of my very favorite outfits, denim shorts and a men’s white oxford shirt, tied off above her midriff.



“Morning, Mom. Ready for some breakfast?”



“Oh, thanks so much, sweetie, you didn’t need to do that.” I set a bowl of fruit and some of the toast in front of her, along with a mug of coffee. “Mmmmm, fresh peaches, I love it.”



“First local fruit of the season, Mom. I picked them up at the farmer’s market yesterday. They looked too good to pass up, especially knowing how much you like them.”



“You spoil me rotten, Ricky.” She became melancholy for a moment. “It’s going to be very lonely around here when you start working in September.”



“We’ll talk about that later, Mom. Today is today and I’m planning to enjoy it. I think we’ll have a good time this evening.”



At that moment, Mom cringed, as we were startled by a brilliant, searing flash of lightning and an instantaneous thunderclap. It was so loud, the dishes and glasses rattled in their cabinets. Then the rain began, a steady hiss as the large, fat drops began to spatter on our roof and the street, gradually building into a gentle roar of white noise. In a matter of moments, the far side of the street was obscured behind a gray veil as the heavens poured wet rage on us.



“Wow, that was a real close one, Mom.”



“I hope that’s not an omen for tonight, Ricky.”



“Not a chance, Mom. I checked the forecast earlier. This will pass through and we’ll have a beautiful evening for the fireworks.”



Mom looked out the window and grimaced. “Damn, I was hoping it would hold off at least a little while. I’ve got to go out.”



“Need any help?”



“No thanks, I’m planning to do some clothes shopping.”



“Okeydokey. I’ll get to work on our picnic.”



“Don’t make a big production out of it, Ricky. I’m easy to please.”



“And I always like pleasing you. It’ll be nice and simple, Mom – I promise I won’t go overboard. Drive carefully and take an umbrella, okay?”



Mom nodded and gave me a light peck on the lips. I gave her a big, goofy grin and a bigger hug. She grinned back, ruffled my hair and headed to the garage.



I got a lot of mileage out of that brief kiss. A mooncalf smile remained plastered on my face for much of the rainy, noisy morning as I put our meal together. About three hours later, Mom returned, just as I was putting the food in the fridge. She was soaked to the skin, laughing as she wrung out her hair in the semi-dark garage doorway.



I tossed her a kitchen towel for her hair. “Ummm, Mom, was there some part of ‘take an umbrella’ that you didn’t understand?”



“Don’t start in on me, young man. I did take one. I just left it behind by mistake when I got to the mall. As I was walking back out to the car, I got drenched.”



I sighed theatrically. “You can lead a horse to water…”



“Enough! Any more comments and I’ll string you up by your thumbs, young man!”



“Will you be wearing those spiked heels and fishnets when you do it?”



Laughing again, Mom threw the towel back at me without warning and caught me across the face. As she stepped out of the shadows of the hallway, I noticed for the first time that her shirt was soaked. Actually, what I really noticed was that she was (holy shit!) not wearing a bra! The damp, slightly transparent material of the shirt molded her curves perfectly and her nipples partially showed through the wet material, poking out stiffly like delectable, small strawberries. I could also see the faint shadows of her unencumbered breasts swaying freely under the material of her shirt as she strode past me. In all our years together, I had never seen her without one. How could I not have noticed that this morning? Searching my memory, I could only conclude that she had taken it off while shopping. And if she took it off shopping, what had she bought that would require her to be braless? My imagination whirled with possibilities and speculations.



I must have been totally absorbed in my lustful thoughts, because as she passed, Mom poked me in the ribs, bringing me back to the present. “I’m going to take another shower and put on some dry clothes.”



Before she could get away, I grabbed her by her arm and pulled her towards me. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise at my boldness, but I defused things a little by kissing her cheek, saying, “Mom, without a doubt, you are the most gorgeous drowned rat I’ve ever laid eyes on.”



My eyes were wholly focused on her beautiful breasts as I spoke. Suddenly remembering I was staring, I glanced back to her face, realizing at once she knew where I was looking. There was a small, half smile on her lips. I blushed so hard I thought I would start smoking.



“God, Mom, I’m sor…”



She smiled warmly and stilled me by placing her finger on my lips. “Don’t apologize, Ricky. Thank you for the compliment,” she murmured, her gaze drifting down from my face to her chest and back again. A touch to my cheek and another quick kiss on my lips and she whisked out of the room, grabbing her shopping bags as she headed upstairs, hips swaying. I watched her depart; rooted to the spot, my cock so hard I thought it would split my shorts. I’m not sure, but I might have drooled on the kitchen linoleum.



Once I heard Mom in the shower, I raced up to my bathroom for some sorely needed relief. Replaying Mom’s return in my head, I lasted about 30 seconds, spraying a huge load all over the sink and vanity. Groaning, I dropped to my hands and knees, “OOhhhhh my goddddddd, Moooom!” I took me several minutes to regain my breath and composure to the point where I could clean up my mess. I decided to stay in my room, futzing around with my computer the rest of the afternoon. I frankly did not trust myself to be around her before we left for our picnic. At that moment, I was actually afraid of the love and lust in my heart. I felt like I was holding onto my self-control by my fingernails.



After a geologic epoch or two, it was finally time to head out to the park. I went downstairs, noticing that Mom’s bedroom door was closed. I could hear her changing, humming to herself as she completed her preparations. I went into the kitchen and gathered our food into the hamper, then settling myself into the breakfast nook to wait. When she came down the stairs, I jumped to my feet in surprise, slack-jawed with amazement.



She was wearing a new sundress, made of some gauzy white material overlaid with a tropical floral print pattern, a riot of brilliant greens, yellows, orange and magenta. A single broad band of the same material looped up from the front of her bodice, around the back of her neck and down the other side to reunite again with the front of the dress. The bodice itself was low cut and square, showing an enticing, but not excessive amount of cleavage. The dress ended just and inch or so above her knees, showing her marvelous legs to great advantage.



Without a doubt, it was the most alluring, most risqué thing I had ever seen Mom wear. In actuality, the dress didn’t reveal that much, but what it suggested and hinted at beneath the fabric was what made it so damn sexy. It suited her down to the ground and left me stunned. It was a minor miracle I didn’t outright drool when I saw her in it. Mom was a BABE!



Laughing delightedly, she pirouetted, the hem of the dress swirling provocatively up to mid thigh as she turned. As she came back to rest in front of me, her breasts wobbled slightly beneath the bodice, obviously braless.



“I take it I have my son’s approval for my choice of wardrobe?”



“Wow,” I croaked, finally finding my voice.



“That’s it, just one word?”



Regaining a little of my composure, I advanced to her and took both her hands in mine, kissing her cheek. “Mom, I can’t remember ever seeing you so beautiful. You look absolutely spectacular,” I said quietly, eyes wide with amazement at her transformation.



“I’m very glad you like it, Ricky. I knew the minute I saw it that it was perfect for our little picnic.” Linking her left arm in mine and placing her right hand on my biceps, she pulled me towards the garage. “Let’s go, sweetheart. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”



We made our way to the park with the windows down, the air having cooled considerably since the front roared through. The overarching thunderheads on the back edge of the passing weather were catching the low afternoon rays of the setting sun, taking on a gilt orange glow against the deep blue of the summer sky. It reminded me of the aureate ambience of an old Maxfield Parrish painting.



As we drove down the recently rain-slicked streets, tires occasionally splashing in puddles, both of us silent, Mom had her hand on the back of my neck, idly toying with the hair at its nape, twirling it in her fingers. I sat quietly, savoring her contact with me, afraid to speak and break the mood. Still not speaking, Mom’s touching of my neck slowly transformed into more of an overt caress, sending a shiver down my spine. A distinct element of tension crept into the air as we finally pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the park, the loud crunching of gravel under the tires suddenly jerking us back out of the moment.



“Well, here we are,” I announced lamely.



We made our way across a wide, verdant expanse of grass and up a small rise, to a slightly secluded knoll overlooking the river, nestled among several venerable oaks. It was perfectly cool in the shade of the trees. Unfolding one of our old blankets, I handed the picnic basket to Mom and gestured to our spot. “Madame’s table is ready.”



“Goody, let’s see what my talented chef-son has prepared for us, ” Mom said eagerly, as she gracefully knelt down next to me, inspecting the contents of the hamper. “Ahhh, cold roast chicken rubbed with herbs, yummy. And…green salad with a nice vinaigrette, some bruschetta with pesto and…mmmmm, a nice cold Fume Blanc. Thanks so much sweetheart – it’s wonderful,” she declared, kissing my cheek.

We sat, semi-reclining in the shade, our elbows just touching as we ate in silence and sipped our wine, watching joggers and cyclists on the path below us and scullers and casual boaters traversing the river, just visible in the shadows and fading light. We talked of inconsequential matters, recounting the mundane details of our recent activities and immediate plans for the coming days, interspersed with comments on the scene and people below us, simply enjoying our shared time together.



The gloaming slowly swallowed up the details of the landscape around us, Mom shivering slightly in the cooling air. I got out another blanket and pulled it around us, Mom snuggling up against me as I put an arm around her shoulders. Our conversation dwindled to a warm, comfortable silence and we sat for some time, enjoying the sounds of the evening as darkness enveloped the park.



As the first frogs and fireflies of the evening made themselves known, Mom looked around us carefully and then turned from under my arm and sat up straight so she was facing me. Reaching behind my head with her hand, she again caressed the nape of my neck. Drawing her face close to mine, she looked steadily into my eyes, took a very deep, almost shuddering breath and without a word, planted a firm, lingering kiss on my lips, watching me intently the whole time.



To say I was surprised would be an understatement of some magnitude. Poleaxed comes a little closer to what I felt at that instant. Eyes wide with shock, I croaked, “Mom…?”



Placing her index finger on my lips, she silenced me.



“Shhhh, darling son. No words, just kiss me,” she gently demanded, her expression a curious, compelling mix of passion, maternal warmth and vulnerable anxiety.



Hardly daring to breath, I leaned forward, carefully brushing my lips against hers, watching her face. She smiled gently and returned the pressure, our mouths now lightly joined, the touch exquisite. Our eyes closed at the same time and we continued for a subjective decade, both of us totally lost in the tender intensity of the moment. I placed a hand on her cheek, slowly, gently tracing her jaw line with my thumb. At that point, we both ran out of oxygen, breaking the kiss. My fingers and toes were tingling. Chests heaving, we locked eyes, sighing and smiling at the same moment. Brushing her bangs from her forehead, I bent to Mom again slowly brushing my lips against hers, gradually increasing the intensity of the kiss.



“Mmmmmmmm,” she murmured, leaning into me. I felt her lips parting ever so slightly. I did the same, heart in my throat, as I waited for her response. It seemed as though my entire chest would burst from the tension.



Then it happened. Her tongue slipped out, barely brushing my lips. Opening wider, my heart hammering, I ventured forth slowly, nervously, seeking her out. My emotions were in absolute chaos. One moment, I was mentally doing handsprings, thinking to myself, “Yes! It’s really happening! Yes! YES! YES!!!” In the next instant, I was beside myself with anxiety, worrying “Oh God, please, Oh God, don’t let it stop, don’t let me screw this up, please ohgodohpleaseohgod.”



Then the tips of our tongues touched and my world changed forever.



We continued, very delicately and lightly exploring, tongues barely gliding over each other in a warm, liquid waltz, a dance as old as time itself, but as new and novel to me as anything I had ever experienced. Slowly, our lips slid over each other, gradually gaining intensity and urgency. I wanted the moment to extend to the end of the universe, but I eventually had to come up for air. Breaking our union, I took in a gulping breath, grimacing nervously as I tried to take everything in. Mom was regarding me quietly, her hands finding mine, smiling gently, her eyes sparkling. Her obvious composure and serenity calmed me and I gradually relaxed, savoring how right it all felt.



Reaching out, I pulled her back to me and kissed her again. Our mouths glided over each other, pressing, tongues touching, releasing, and pressing together again. With a small moan, Mom pressed against me, her arms going around my shoulders, her tongue now insistently seeking mine. Groaning in return, I pulled her tighter against me, our mouths pressed tightly together, tongues lashing each other frantically. I reclined onto our blanket, pulling her down with me. We lay on our sides, facing each other as we broke our kiss. Mom reached out to touch my cheek.



At that moment, I was torn in two, standing on a great divide. Against all odds, I had finally arrived at the gateway of all my fantasies, but my conscience was putting up a last, desperate stand, seeming to ask me, “Think, Ricky, for God’s sake, think. Is this what you really want? You can’t go back from here if you don’t stop, too much will change, forever.”



I sucked in a shuddering breath and took her hand in mine. “Mom…. I…I’ve waited… so long…” my voice catching, then trailing off to a plaintive whisper.



“Shhh, sweetheart. I know,” she said tenderly. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time too.”



“You wanted to…” I began incredulously.



“Hush, sweet boy,” she whispered, gently placing her index finger on my lips to quiet me.



She silenced me further by pulling me close and latching on to my lips again. I thought our previous kiss was exciting, but I had no idea. Mom’s lips pressed against mine with urgency, her mouth opening wide as her tongue sought mine. As I responded, she sucked my tongue into her mouth, holding my head in both of her hands, practically devouring me.



Before that moment, if I ever had any perception of my mother as some idealized porcelain figure, to be cherished and treated delicately, I was quickly set straight about those notions. I was in the arms of a fiery, passionate creature, who was most definitely warm flesh and hot blood. It was absolutely breathtaking, and it only got better.



Mom slipped her arms around my shoulders, rolling over on top of me, our tongues dancing, probing, advancing and retreating in a moist arabesque. I could feel the incredible, soft pressure of her unencumbered breasts against my chest and the weight of her hips against my straining cock. Her pelvis was close against me with the slightest amount of pressure and motion, stimulating me unbearably. I was utterly spellbound, the intensity of the instant almost forcing me into an out of body experience.



We separated, breath ragged and chests heaving, eyes locked on each other. Placing my hand around her neck, I pulled her towards me. Mom seemed to not want me to speak, so I tried to let my actions do the talking. I kissed her forehead, cheeks and the bridge of her nose lightly before returning to her full, moist lips. Leaning into her slightly, not demanding, I refrained from using my tongue, simply pressing tenderly, withdrawing and pressing lightly again, acquainting myself with the details of her mouth, committing all the wonderful details to memory, watching her intently all the while. When I stopped, she sighed happily and laid her head on my chest. I simply held her, stroking her hair, soaking up our closeness. We continued our embrace for some time, not speaking.



Lost in our private world, we were startled as the first fireworks of the evening thundered into the sky across the river. I rolled onto my side and drew Mom up underneath my arm so we could watch the show, placing my other hand on hers, intertwining our fingers.



After a while, Mom turned to face me. “Well, Ricky, was this what you expected?”



“Mom…I have dreamed of this at least ten thousand times since I was 15,” I croaked hoarsely, a hitch in my voice. “I imagined it so often, I thought I knew what it would be like, but I didn’t have a freakin’ clue. I have never, ever been kissed like that before.”



I shuddered, gulping in a great lung full of air.



“I hope you know what you’ve done to me. I’m a goner now – officially ruined for all other women.”



“Mmmm, you say the sweetest things to your Mom.” Brushing my hair off my forehead, she smiled again. “You’re not so bad yourself, sport. You make my toes tingle.”



Glancing at my lap, Mom shook her head, reaching for a napkin. At first I thought she was looking at the railroad spike I was sporting in my pants, but she surprised me.



Tsking under her breath, she flicked her napkin on my thighs, chiding me, saying, “Jesus, Ricky, you’re covered in crumbs. Men are such messy eaters,” she scolded, pretending to be exasperated. “Don’t you dare let that crud get on my nice new dress, you big slob.”



Smiling apologetically, I drew her back to me and kissed her again. This time, I sought her in a more insistent way, searching for her tongue immediately, drawing her into my mouth, savoring her taste as we explored each other’s mouths. As our kiss deepened in its intensity and passion, I began stroking her back and sides. She moaned into my mouth. “Ohhhh, Ricky, baby….” Emboldened, I reached up to gently to cup her breast, delicately tracing my fingertips on her heavy softness.



Sighing with pleasure, she gently disengaged my hand, and kissed it, holding it between us. “There’s no rush, darling. Could we please take things slow and easy?”



I struggled mightily to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Okay, Mom.”



Kissing my cheeks, Mom looked at me intently. “We took a huge step tonight, Ricky. I just need to work through this a bit at a time. Things are more complicated for me than they might seem. I hope you’ll give me a little room, a little time…”



I brought her close again and hugged her, burying my face in her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. I love you and wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you, ever. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”



“You’re my sweet young man, and I love you too. I’m so glad to be here with you now, like this.”



I rolled onto my back, bringing her on top of me, giggling. Giving her a big, smacking burlesque of a kiss, I savored our contact. I knew Mom could probably feel my erection, which was pulsing unmercifully in my shorts, but I didn’t care. I needed her to know how I felt now, to know how much she excited me, to know that it was waiting there, for her to have when and however she wanted it.



Laughing, she reached down to my sides and tickled me until I was squirming underneath her and then rolled off so she was on her side again, facing me. I sat up and reached out to her. “Come sit with me, Mom,” I entreated, drawing her on to my lap. She settled in with her arms around my neck while I wrapped mine around her waist.



We sat that way for the rest of the fireworks, kissing from time to time, randomly alternating between sweet, affectionate pecks and wide-mouthed, tongue lashing, madly passionate clinches, as the mood took us. The fact that she was sitting on my rock hard cock didn’t seem to faze her at all.



All too soon, the show was over. Still perched in my lap, Mom held my face in her hands, her eyes warmly searching mine, seemingly for any doubt or regret. Apparently satisfied, she rummaged in her purse for a Kleenex. She moistened the small paper square with the condensation on the wine bottle and gently scrubbed my face with it, saying, “I made a bit of a mess with you, Ricky. My lipstick’s everywhere. Let me clean my boy up.”



My face once again suitable for public viewing, we got up, dusted ourselves off and repacked the hamper. I folded the blankets over one arm and we walked back to the car, hand in hand.



As we pulled out of the parking lot, I put Mom under my arm, draping it over her shoulder. She settled against me with a contented sigh. We didn’t speak on the way home, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Once in the kitchen, we cleaned up the picnic leavings together, still not speaking, but it was a strangely comforting, relaxed silence. There wasn’t any need to talk, because we knew where we stood with each other now. A little later, we walked upstairs together, arms around each other’s waists. I stopped Mom before she went into her room, hands sliding down to her hips, holding her gently.



Giving her a light but lingering kiss, I hugged her and spoke. “Thanks for a beautiful evening, Mom. It was the best. The best ever.”



“It was very special, Ricky. Sleep well, son.”



“Sweet dreams, Mom.”



That night, even with the help of Rosie Palmer (more than once), it had taken a long time to nod off. I simply could not stop reliving the evening’s events.



I know at some point I must have been asleep, because I found myself in a surreal dreamscape, walking on a darkened, windswept plain, head down, struggling into a ferocious wind. Heavy, roiling rain clouds scudded rapidly from horizon to horizon, internally illuminated with blinding flashes of sheet lightning. Horizontal rain, grit and sand were being blown into my face, abrading the skin of my cheeks and stinging my eyes.



The dream gale continued to increase in intensity until it stopped my forward progress entirely. I looked around myself in great confusion, knowing I was lost, but at the same time understanding that I urgently had to be someplace, but where I could not remember. As the tempest around me increased to a screaming crescendo, objects began to fly by; cars, rocks, animals, people, houses, boats, buildings, entire cities. As I felt myself beginning to lose my footing, I heard Mom’s voice. “Rickeeee! Rickeee! Time to come in! Time to stop playing!”



The surreal tempest still surged around me, but somehow, I was now standing in Gramps and Nana’s old Ohio backyard, next to my worn swing set, a small island of calm in the maelstrom.



“Coming, Mommy! I’m coming in now!”



As I spoke, the wind took me in its grip, swirling me up into the air. I lost all orientation as I was roughly twisted and tumbled, pushed in all directions by the impacts of the smaller debris, caroming off the larger objects in my path as I was pulled into the sky.



“Rickeee! Time to come in! Time to come in now!” Mom’s voice took on an insistent note.



“I’m trying, Mom! I’m trying!”



Spinning and tumbling through the air, I suddenly became oriented, finding the direction of her calls. Without effort or volition, I seemed to hurtle towards the source of her voice, bursting through the swirling cyclone of flying boulders, fragmented skyscrapers, great ships and shattered mountains to a quiet place of warm light and undisturbed clouds. Mom was there, dressed in a pale yellow, fifties-style house dress, a mixing bowl in the crook of her arm, stirring a batch of cookie dough. “Ahhh, there you are, my son! What took you so long?”



Setting the bowl aside, she held her arms out to me, clothes dissolving, blown away in a cloud of tiny, scintillating fragments by a warm breeze. Naked, I could see every detail of her body. Stiffened, erect and proud, her nipples were like beacons. Her abdomen, unblemished and smooth with only the slightest hint of maternal, soft fullness around the hips and belly, the magnificent thatch of reddish blonde hair between her legs and her inner thighs, glistening with evidence of her arousal, they all beckoned to me. As I reached towards her, she ran her tongue over her lips, mouth parting in preparation for me.



“You’re all grown up now, Ricky. I’m so proud of you – now come give me my kiss.”



As I reached out to take her in my arms, I awoke.



Shuddering slightly, I threw off the dream with effort, trying to smooth my ruffled mental feathers. Glancing at my alarm clock, I could see it was an uncharacteristically early hour, even though I had not fallen asleep for quite awhile after our return home. Images of the evening in the park still swirled in my head and the first thought when I opened my eyes was that I’d had the best dream ever about me and Mom, but when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I saw the faintest smudge of lipstick at the angle of my jaw. Then I knew. My God, it had really, truly happened. Suddenly, I was amazingly awake. The sight of that faint streak of red on my cheek woke me up more than any triple shot of espresso could ever hope to do.



Quickly throwing on a clean polo shirt and some shorts, I padded downstairs past Mom’s still-closed door. I paused there briefly, but could hear nothing.



I put on a pot of coffee and went to the porch to get the morning paper. Easing back into the breakfast nook, I took in the headlines of the day, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. When the coffee was finally ready, I drank it black, trying to use the bitter taste to propel myself fully into the morning. Oddly, in spite of my disturbing and arousing dream, I felt as calm and content as I could ever remember. As I recalled the amazing events of our July 4th evening, I heard Mom stirring upstairs. A short while later her shower started up. When I heard her finish, I got up and poured her a cup of coffee and got a yogurt out of the fridge, slicing some of yesterday’s peaches over it. I sat back and waited, very apprehensive about what to expect.



A few minutes later, Mom arrived downstairs. She was dressed in her usual uniform, a smartly tailored navy business suit and a white silk blouse, the hemline of the skirt ending slightly below her knees. The jacket was stylishly cut with a broad expanse of open space between the deeply cut “V” of the front, subtly emphasizing her cleavage. As usual, she looked great to me.



I took in every detail, noticing she seemed a little fatigued and bleary-eyed. I gestured her to sit opposite me and handed her the mug of coffee, surreptitiously surveying her for any signs of regret, or (I fervently wished) acknowledgment. Try as I might, though, I could see nothing but her normal, day-to-day demeanor.



Taking a sip, she favored me with a dazzling smile. “Ahhh, thanks sweetie. I really need a jolt this morning.”



I sensed that Mom was not in any mood to talk about last night, so I kept my peace. “Would you like a ride to the station?” I asked.



Placing her hand on my arm and giving me a squeeze, she smiled warmly.



“I’ll take a lift from my handsome chauffeur any time. You needed the car for something today?”



“Yeah. Uncle Louie’s been after me to work a couple evenings a week while I make up my mind about my job. I thought I’d go talk to him about it. I think it’ll be good to stay a little busy while I sort things out.”



“Uncle Louie” was Louis Agostino, who owned the best restaurant in town. I’d begun working odd jobs and washing dishes for him when I was 16, gradually working my way up to part time line chef by the time I finished high school. Louie sort of took me under his wing after Gramp’s and Nana’s passing, showing me the ropes of running a kitchen and keeping me busy. He took an interest early on in my career and had been a wellspring of good advice and great contacts in the City as I developed my skills. I knew he would love to bring me on as Sous Chef in his place, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. All modesty and bad puns aside, I had bigger fish to fry. Still, I owed Louie a lot and was happy to help out when I had the time. Having a bit of spending money in my pocket for the summer would be nice too.



“That’s generous of you, Ricky. Louis has been very good to you.”



“That he has.”



As we drove to the station, Mom held my hand. When we arrived, she gave me a wonderful, light but deliciously prolonged kiss before hopping out of the car, gentle, moist and just a hint of tongue.



“Don’t worry about last night, darling. Nothing’s changed since we went to sleep,” she assured me with a smile.



How well she knew me! It was all I needed to hear to make it a great day and I loved her all the more for taking time to think about how I was feeling about us.



While I watched her make her way to the platform, it suddenly struck me how alive Mom looked, how confident and relaxed her demeanor was. As she strode away, her hips swayed and her gait was long and sensuous. She seemed to catch the eye of nearly every man she passed by. A few even stopped in their tracks, turning to watch her as she moved away from them. Every nuance of her body language shouted, “I’m a beautiful, desirable woman; look at me, watch me walk and see. I’m loved and in love.”

***




I worked out an arrangement with Uncle Louie later that morning. I’d work as the co-lead chef on the line on Friday nights and would spend Tuesday and Thursday afternoons working with the crew, teaching them the finer aspects of classic preparation and cooking techniques, acting as a quasi-Chef de Cuisine on those days. We worked out the details over a couple of hours and agreed that I would start next week.



When I picked up Mom at the end of the day, she was in an ebullient mood. She settled in next to me in the front seat and immediately parked herself under my arm, hand casually resting on my neck again, caressing me as we drove home.



“You seem particularly happy tonight, Mom. Good day at work?”



“Yes indeed. I’m especially happy today for three reasons.”



“I’m assuming you will enumerate and enlighten me as we go here.”



“I shall. Number one, I made the top ten in billable hours again this quarter, which makes three in a row, which means I get an extra week of vacation some time in the next three months. Number two, Doug March (son of the founding member of the practice and current senior partner) asked me to be lead counsel in the Vancouver Mining/Seattle-Pacific Precious Metals merger deal. I’ll be flying to Vancouver in a couple weeks to meet with my Canadian counterparts and to prepare for the negotiations.”



“Wow, that’s great news! Congratulations, Mom.”



I then described my summer arrangement with Uncle Louie, which further delighted her.



“You said there were three things, Mom.”



“I most certainly did. I had lunch today with Selena Mendoza to consult with her about the Vancouver Mining deal. She’s the M&A specialist who made partner last month. We’ve become pretty good friends over the past year and I mentored her when she first joined the practice.”



“Anyway, we’re sitting down to order and the first thing she asks me is ‘All right, who is he?’ Of course, I say that I have no idea what she’s talking about, and she then says ‘Come off it, Jenny. When the most serious, totally professional and completely business-like partner in the whole practice comes in to work with a big smile on her face, practically floating on air, something’s up. Everyone from the mail room boy to old man March himself was speculating like mad all morning.’ I thought about it for a minute and I asked her if she could keep a secret and she agreed.”



“I told her I was seeing a younger man.”



I almost drove off the road.



“Jesus!” I spluttered. “Damn…Why’d you say…I mean, it’s great, but…Mom?”



She laughed merrily and kissed my cheek, still running her hand up and down my neck, toying with my hair. “Aren’t you glad that our life is now, uhm, something more than it used to be?”



“More than you’ll ever know, Mom,” I sighed, wistful and hopeful at the same time.



Her expression became very serious. “You’re beginning a romantic relationship with your own mother, Ricky, and all that that implies,” she said somberly, her expression anxious.



Everything is going to be different for us from now on. Whatever happens going forward, there’s no way to set the clock back to before July 4th now,” she said, searching my eyes.



I held her gaze, matching her serious expression with my own. Recognizing that we were touching on the very foundation of our budding relationship, I quickly pulled the car into a tree-lined side street and parked, shutting off the engine.



“Mom, not a minute goes by where I don’t think about what happened last night,” I said, turning to her, my voice just above a whisper.



“I know what I want,” I said, hesitantly, heart beating faster. I was about to say it out loud for the first time, not only to myself, but also to Mom. I was terrified and I think it showed.



Mom saw my trepidation, but misinterpreted it, her eyes starting to brim with tears.



“Ricky,” she pleaded, taking my hand. “Ricky, this is terribly important. You have to tell me right this minute if…if you’re having…guilt…or doubts,” she said, voice breaking.



Mom’s misreading of my hesitation was such a surprise, I laughed, finally breaking the anxiety that had made it so difficult to speak.



I reached over to gently rub the tear off her cheek. Sighing with relief, I smiled tenderly and said calmly,



“I have no doubts, Mom, none at all. It’s just, it’s just that I’ve never said it out loud before, even to myself, so it’s a little scary.”



Drawing in a deep breath, I took both her hands back again.



“I know what I want, what I need, Mom. I want a life, a life with you,” I said, my own eyes glistening.



Mom began crying again, this time smiling at the same time. She paused for a moment, wiping her tears, sniffing, “God, what a rollercoaster this all is! Look at me, I’m a complete emotional wreck and I’m making a horrible mess of my makeup. What you must think of me!”



I started to reply in protest, but Mom held up her hand, cutting me off.



Her warm smile continuing, she leaned over and kissed me, mouth trailing slowly from my lips to my cheek. “Ricky, my beautiful boy, my lovely son, that ‘s the most wonderful, sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she sighed into my ear. “Once, when you were six, you said you wanted to marry me when you grew up. You touched my heart then and now, against all odds, you’ve touched me again. I don’t know what to say.”



“Say yes, Mom, say you’ll be with me,” I pleaded, watching her intently.



Sighing sadly, Mom looked away, staring out the window and my heart went into free fall. Still not facing me, she spoke again, slowly and haltingly, struggling to express herself.



“Ricky…Ricky…This is so difficult for me, you have no idea…part of me wants to throw myself into your arms right this minute, to be everything you want me to be for you. But…but another part of me, the part that’s an older, experienced woman, and also your Mom, she knows that things are never that simple,” she exhaled sadly.



“When you’re young, you think that being in love, loving somebody, is the answer to all problems, that sharing that emotion holds the key to a hundred years of bliss.”



Voice hoarse with emotion, she continued, “But it’s not really true. People make mistakes; people change and grow apart, sometimes quickly, sometimes after many years together. Sometimes they,,,they betray each other or even grow to hate one another.”



Her voice barely audible, Mom wrung her hands in her lap. “The love a mother has for her child, it’s the strongest love there is, Ricky, usually even stronger than what she feels for her mate. It’s the most precious thing in her life. To ask her to jeopardize that, to deliberately place it in harm’s way, it’s asking a lot,” she said seriously.



Crying again, she turned back to face me, putting her hands on my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. “It really scares me to risk that, Ricky, even though the thought of us together as…as…lovers, makes my heart soar sometimes.”



“I’m afraid if things don’t go well for us, it could be pretty horrible. I think I could survive us breaking up as a couple, but if it caused me to lose my son, I couldn’t bear that. It would be the end of my world,” she quavered.



“That’s how much I love you, my son,” she sobbed, voice breaking.



As high as I was flying when I picked Mom up, I was now lower than dust in the road. It seemed as though Mom was talking herself out of what I was sure was meant to be, that her fears and innately cautious nature would forever be in the way of our coming together. After what we shared the night before, it was inconceivable, impossible that we would not be with each other.



I was silent for some minutes while I digested her statement. Clearing my throat hesitantly, I reached out to squeeze her hand reassuringly, replying softly, “I’ve never been very good at concealing my thoughts from you, Mom. I think…I….ah, shit!” I cried in frustration. “I can’t say this just looking at you, Mom.”



I frantically unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her urgently, almost roughly into my lap, wrapping my arms around her, squeezing her tightly as I buried my face in her hair. Her arms simultaneously came around my shoulders, returning my hug with equal intensity.



“You’ve known for a long time how I feel about you, about us, Mom,” I murmured into her shoulder.



“I…I understand what you’re saying, about us being, uhm, lovers. I really do,” I said, voice tight. “And I may be young, and I may be inexperienced and idealistic, but I do know this one thing, Mom. I know if you don’t play, you can’t win.”



Inhaling her scent deeply, I felt some measure of calm return and I stroked her hair gently, tracing my fingers along her hairline and over the crest of her ear, trailing down to the side of her neck. Mom seemed to settle against me a little as my hand came to rest on the top of her shoulder and she sighed. I let my hands trace around her upper arms and back, lightly, soothing, simple and affectionate.



Whispering in her ear, I spoke as calmly and reassuringly as I could.



“Mom, right now, I think the most important thing you need to know is that no matter what, this son loves his mother. If we can be together as more than that, I’ll be the happiest guy on earth. If it doesn’t work out, it’s not going to change the fact that you’re always going to be my mom, and that all we have in this world is each other. I’ll always be there for you – that’s my solemn promise right now, here at this minute and from now on, regardless.”



Mom seemed to heave a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Ricky. I promise you’ll always be my son too, no matter what.”



Pulling back slightly from her, I brushed her hair back over her ear and kissed her lightly on her lips.



“Can you promise me one more thing, Mom?”



“Will you try? Will you really try to give us a chance? Because, it would be wonderful. It would be the best, Mom. We would be good together, pretty lady, really good,” I entreated her. “You’d be my queen.”



Plunging on, I said, “I’ll make you another promise myself, Mom. I promise that I’ll do my best not to push you or make you uncomfortable. We’ll go as fast or as slow as you want, as we figure out where we’re going with this. That’s my promise.”



We drove the rest of the way home in silence, Mom holding my free hand. I was going over everything she had said in my mind, trying to get a handle on where we were headed. There was a metric ton of stuff left unsaid between us. The ambiguity of being an “almost” couple was maddening to me. All of my long-suppressed desires cried out to seize the opportunity and push things to an ultimate conclusion, but I knew in my heart that there would be no rushing Mom. She was showing her cautious nature and definitely needed to feel in control of what was happening between us. I knew for certain, just as I promised her, that there was no chance I was going to hurt her in any way, but there sure was a good possibility that I might go insane with frustration.



Mom still seemed a bit pensive as we pulled into the garage. After the door closed behind us, I turned to Mom and gave her a gentle, prolonged kiss. “I meant what I said last night, and just now, Mom. I won’t do anything you don’t want. But,” I grinned wickedly, “I will do everything you ask, so be warned.”



“Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispered.



Drawing in a large breath, she looked deeply in my eyes.



“Okay, Ricky,” she said, barely audible. “I’ll try.”



For dinner, we reheated some leftover pasta and had some steamed veggies. We talked at some length about the upcoming trip to Vancouver, Mom describing her role in the whole process. It was all quite foreign to me, but fascinating nevertheless. When we were finished and had cleaned up our dishes, to my disappointment, Mom excused herself and went to her office to work on the merger project for several hours. I occupied myself with a few chores that needed doing and was watching some brainless reality show when Mom came out of her office.



“Pffft, that’s enough for one day, I think,” she said heavily, stretching her arms above her head and arching her neck back. She walked over to the sofa and stood at my side. “What on earth are you watching, Ricky? That stuff will rot your brain. Unless…have you developed an attraction for self-promoting publicity whores with big fake boobs and no discernible talents?”



“Actually, I already have a girl. Nobody can hold a candle to her.”



Nodding towards the television, I added, “She makes that Kim person look like Ron Perlman.”



“Do tell. What’s she like?”



“Well, she’s about five foot nine, with deep blue eyes and beautiful strawberry blonde hair. She’s smart, sexy and about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I love her to death and need her more than my next heartbeat,” I replied, taking her hand and pulling her into my lap.



Settling herself into a comfortable position, she put her arms around my neck and snuggled up close.



“Sit with me for a while, Mom. We can watch whatever you like. I’ve just been killing time, waiting for you to finish your work.”



“So, you were hoping to spend the rest of the evening making out with your Mom?”



“I was hoping to steal a kiss or two,” I admitted. “But if you’re tired, I can take a rain check, pretty lady.”



“You’re very sweet and considerate, Ricky. I can always spare a few minutes for my handsome son.”



Our first kiss on the sofa was just as sweet as the one in the park the preceding day, but different. After our wrenching conversation on the way home, I was still feeling upset and uncertain. My anxiety must have shown, because Mom picked up on it immediately.



Cupping my cheek maternally, Mom forced me to look at her. “Ricky, what’s wrong? Talk to me, honey. Tell me what’s worrying you.”



“Mom…Mom, are we okay?” I blurted.



She gave me a reassuring smile, and ruffled my hair like always. Then, quickly, she bent to my lips and gave me a burning, toe-curling kiss, her tongue devouring me. I moaned back into her mouth and pulled her to me tightly as her arms curled around my shoulders.



Breaking the kiss, Mom regarded me closely, eyes dancing.



“Does that answer your question, my son?”



Sighing in relief, I smiled, saying, “Yeah, Mom. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”



“You’re welcome, Ricky,” she whispered. “You’re always welcome. Now, about that last kiss – Momma thinks you can do better, much better than that. Let’s try again.”



I was happy for the extra homework.



We necked lightly for another five or ten minutes, things slowly heating up. The tongue action started to get pretty hot and heavy, both of us sighing and panting as our excitement grew. Mom broke our embrace, placing her hand on my chest, head down, breathing in short gasps.



“Whew! You go to my head, young man. You are far to good a kisser for my own good – I was really starting to get carried away there.”



“I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said, a note of regret in her voice.



Carefully placing her hand on my upper thigh, she gave me a slight squeeze. “Besides, I think there’s something you need to take care of right about now.”



“Mom!”



“Don’t be embarrassed, Ricky. You have no idea how nice it is to know I excite you. You make me feel like a teenager all over again – it’s really quite sweet and a huge compliment.”



Getting off my lap, she stood up and drew me to my feet. Bringing her arms underneath mine and onto my back, she kissed me soundly again, and then broke our embrace, bringing a hand to my cheek. “You’re a natural gentleman, Ricky. Thank you for being so patient with me – I know it’s ha…er, difficult for you right now.”



I smiled and laughed. “It’s both, Mom.”



We walked upstairs, holding hands, pausing for one more long kiss outside Mom’s bedroom door. She then pushed me away, slowly, as though struggling. Squaring her shoulders with effort, she took my arm and pointed me down the hall, giving my butt a light swat to get me moving.



“Time to go ‘handle’ you problem, son,” she whispered in my ear, lips trailing across my cheek.



As I reached the door to my bathroom, I turned around briefly. Mom was still in the hallway, looking at me with a gentle smile on her face.



“Have fun stirring the honey pot, Mom,” I teased, stepping quickly into the doorway.



“Ricky – you brat!” she shrieked. I got the door closed just in time, one of Mom’s slippers smacking against it. Thank God I could find a way to see some humor in our situation. It was either that or have a psychotic break – so I laughed.



I hopped in the shower and got everything nice and clean, really clean. I was still semi-hard when I got out, wrapping a towel around my waist and quietly stepping into the hallway. Moving carefully to Mom’s closed door, I canted my head to listen. Shifting my weight to bring my ear closer to the door, a floorboard creaked slightly beneath me. Shit! I heard Mom’s voice immediately.



“Ricky! Get your horny butt into bed! There’s no muffin buffin’ going on here tonight, so skedaddle now!”



I couldn’t help myself. Muffin buffin’ indeed – I cracked up. “Sorry, Mom! Good night!”



“Good night, you bad boy. Just so you know – I’m putting saltpeter in your scrambled eggs tomorrow!” Mom was laughing as well.



Jesus, what a pair we made. I think we were both going crazy, dancing around the elephant in our room, but if we went insane, it would be in good humor, I supposed. It’s amazing what you can endure when you really love someone.



Things continued in a similar vein between us for another week or two, the undercurrents become stronger with each make-out session. It seemed as though we were swimming on the edge of a vortex, which could suck us into lustful oblivion at any time. I was in a haze of constant arousal whenever I was near Mom and I don’t think she was faring much better.



I never knew what to expect when I took her into my arms, though. There were times when the slightest brush across her breast or brief caress of a thigh would provoke a gentle rebuke and others when she would let me touch her through her blouse for minutes at a time. It seemed that sometimes Mom was holding back by main force of will and wasn’t able to bring herself to the next level of intimacy with me. Other times, I was left with the feeling that I was mere minutes away from getting naked with her.



Then there were the looks she gave me, whenever she stopped our make-out sessions. The lust was there, to be sure, with obviously flushed cheeks and chest and moist lips, but it was her eyes and her hands that always gave me pause. When she would put her palm on my thumping chest, so slowly and gently pushing me away, or burying her head in my shoulder, almost in embarrassment, when she started to get carried away, she would then look up at me, her gaze a strange combination of apology, regret and desire. Then she would get up, her hands very slowly trailing off my back or shoulders, obviously loathe to relinquish her contact with me.



My heart would go out to her at those times, quickly banking the fires of my own desire. After those moments, I would always try to give her a simple warm hug and a peck on the cheek, like old times, letting her know that I was, first and foremost, still her son. She seemed to appreciate those unspoken assurances and her spirits would visibly lift when she left my side, usually to retire for the evening.



I may have been half mad with lust during that time, but I wasn’t completely brain dead. This was my Mom, who I loved with all my heart, and she was having trouble figuring out what to do. I did my best to be patient. I hoped every day that she would find her way to me, praying every night that she wouldn’t lose her nerve and pull away completely.



The Friday before Mom was to leave for Vancouver, I sat in the kitchen at breakfast time, staring into a bitter cup of black coffee, trying without much success to sort out my feelings.

Our new romance was more than I could possibly have hoped just a few short months ago, but I positively ached for more. It was painfully clear that wherever things were going, they were going to happen at the pace Mom decided on.



I worried daily about my ability to live off of crumbs from the incestuous banquet table that was laid out just beyond my reach. As my ultimate dream appeared to inch closer, it seemed as though there was more to lose by trying to push things along. Mom was placing a lot of confidence in my ability to wait for her, but I felt in my gut that if I tried to escalate our nascent affair on my own, I’d be breaking her trust in a way that would not be reparable. It was absolutely maddening.



Even more frustrating was her imminent departure. As perpetually horny as our situation had made me, the mere thought of being separated from Mom at this point was even more painful. I closed my eyes and heaved a long sigh.



“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Mom had come down for breakfast, unnoticed during my short excursion into self-pity.



“Mom, I was thinking, I’m not going to see you for maybe a week or more when you leave Sunday. I’m going to miss you a lot.”



“Me too, sweetie, but that’s the way it is. You going to have to hang in there, big guy,” she consoled, giving me a hug. “I’m going to miss your touch and kisses just as much, darling,” she whispered in my ear.



“How about I send you off in style, sweet lady? Can I take you out for dinner and dancing tomorrow evening? We’ll go to Sorvino’s Supper Club. Please say yes,” I entreated.



“That would be wonderful, Ricky. Yes, I will go out with you.”



“Great! I’ll make the reservations today.”



“One thing, Ricky.”



“Yes, Mom?”



“This girl doesn’t put out on the first date,” she grinned.



I knew she was just teasing me, but it stung anyway. I think it must have shown a little in my expression, because Mom was immediately contrite.



“Oh, I’m sorry darling! I was just teasing, you know,” she said, genuine concern in her eyes. She showered my face with little smooches of apology. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”



“It’s okay Mom, no big deal. I just want a nice memory to hold me until you get back.”



“You’re my incurable romantic, you sweet young man. I really do love you, you know.”



I put my arms around her waist and kissed her soundly. “Love you too, Mom,” I murmured.



Reluctantly, she disengaged from my embrace, hands trailing down my arms, lightly caressing and then regretfully releasing as she squeezed my fingers. “I’ve got to get to work,” she sighed, backing away unwillingly.



As she turned to leave, I pinched her bottom. “Ciao, bella!”



Squealing in mock indignation, she slapped at my hand, eyes sparkling. “I’ll see you after you get back from Louie’s tonight, you naughty young man.”



“Bye, pretty lady.”



***




Friday evenings at Uncle Louie’s place were always a madhouse, but that particular evening was brutal. We were shorthanded a Commis, so we fell behind on mis en place early on in the shift. Because we were rushing to get caught up, our Saucier got careless and ended up burning her arm badly, effectively putting her out of commission for the evening. I ended up trying to do two jobs, working the line and filling in at her station. Somehow, I pulled things off, as we had no complaints from the dining room or the wait staff. As we were closing down, Louie came back to personally thank us all for our efforts. “See you all at the Bald Moose Grill after we close,” he announced. “Drinks are on me. Are you coming Rick?”



“Take a rain check, if I may? There’s a lady waiting for me this evening.”



“There’s only one thing that should stand between a chef and free after hours libations,” Louie intoned seriously. “And you’ve named it. See ya Tuesday.”



When I got home, I found Mom asleep on the sofa. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the flickering television screen. A half empty bottle of wine was next to her on the coffee table. She lay completely relaxed, sprawled out with one leg and arm dangling off the edge of the couch, bathrobe parted around her legs, exposing her up to the tops of her thighs. I could make out the very bottom of the front of her silky white panties, a small delta of brightness nestled at the junction of the flawless alabaster softness of her upper thighs.



I stood still for several minutes, drinking in the sight, a captivating combination of sweet vulnerability and sexy display. I was bending down to kiss her when I noticed her smell. Musky and unmistakable, I immediately recognized the scent of aroused woman. It was then I could see a slight sheen on the inside of her thighs and the clearly damp condition of the front of her panties. Her right hand laid limply on her lower abdomen, palm up, fingers slightly curled. Her fingers were lightly glistening, even in the low flickering light of the television.



As I took in the visual telltales and odor of Mom’s evening of self-pleasure, my cock went from merely erect to high carbon steel hardness. I think I must have moaned in my throat, because Mom stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering. Stepping catlike, smoothly and silently to her side, I quickly bent over her, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her lower back. Operating on pure limbic overdrive, I scooped her up, startling her into wakefulness.



“Whaaa….mnnpphhh…hunh?……. Ricky?” She mumbled, arms reflexively reaching around my neck to stabilize herself. She slowly woke up as I carried her across the living room.



“Ricky, what’re you doing?”



I didn’t respond; instead I buried my face in the crook of her neck, kissing her at the juncture of her soft throat and shoulder, just above the collarbone. I sucked her flesh into my mouth hungrily, Mom throwing her head back and moaning slightly. “Oooohhhh, baby…”



By now, I was at the top of the stairs, arms aching. My strength gave out and I set her on her feet next to the bedroom door. Pulling her close to me, I sought her lips, crushing them under my own with a growl. She melted against me, her tongue seeking out mine with equal passion, body pressed fully against me. I instinctively sought her breast with my right hand, my left arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. As I felt her nipple hardening beneath my palm, my other hand slipped to cup her ass cheek, pulling her pelvis tightly and insistently against my hardness. Mom then seemed to come to her senses, breaking her kiss with me. With an obvious shudder, she pushed me back slightly, slowly, very reluctantly removing my hand from her breast. “Oh my, baby…” she sighed, lips trembling, breath coming in tortured gasps. “We’ve got… to be… careful, sweetheart…She took in a gulping breath, looking at me with concern. “I can’t…let…things…get out of…control…not yet, not ready yet,” she whispered, breathing still labored.



I was in such a state of arousal that it sounded to me as though Mom was talking to me through a long cardboard tube, words faint and indistinct as my own pulse thundered in my ears. Reluctantly, I came partially back to the real world, trembling slightly, but still breathing through flared nostrils like an enraged bull. I was not able to formulate a coherent thought, completely unable to speak.



Mom had her arms on my shoulders and was looking at me intently, the hooded look of excitement in her eyes gradually being replaced by worry. “Ricky, relax. Get a hold of yourself. Settle down,” she entreated me.



Slowly reclaiming a few shreds of self-control, I took a shuddering deep breath. She looked so desirable, so damn sexy that I felt myself beginning to slip again. With a moan, I took her right hand and brought it to my mouth, licking her taste off her fingers. “Oh my god.” she exclaimed as her eyes widened in shock.



I bolted to the bathroom without looking back, slamming the door behind me as I shoved my pants and boxers to my ankles in one savage movement. Grasping and roughly stroking myself, I came almost immediately. “Ohhhgodddlooove yoooumom!” I cried, agony fusing with ecstasy.



Spent, I collapsed onto the toilet seat, panting like I had run up a dozen flights of stairs. I sank into a kind of stupor for ten or fifteen minutes, at one point hearing Mom outside the bathroom door. See seemed to stand there for several minutes without knocking, but then left. Shortly after that, I heard her bedroom door close softly, followed by the sounds of her shower starting up. I was in no state to go to sleep, so I cleaned up quickly and changed into shorts and a tee shirt. I then went back to the family room and turned on the TV, paying only marginal attention to the screen as I tried to regain my composure.



Probably 5 or 10 minute later, Mom came downstairs, dressed in some man pajamas and a bathrobe. She had a wholesome, freshly scrubbed look, but seemed very apprehensive as she came to stand by the sofa. “Ricky,” she began hesitantly, “Are you okay?”



I smiled weakly. “I’m fine now Mom. Coming back and seeing you like that, well, it was a little too stimulating, I guess.”



“You scared me, you were so intense.”



I immediately felt terrible. “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. It’s just that sometimes, you just turn me on so much…”



I held my hands out to her. “Please sit with me for a few minutes, okay?”



Mom bit her lip, not meeting my eyes at first. After a long moment, she ran her hand through her hair absently and looked up to me, sighing apologetically.



“I’m sorry too, sweetheart. I didn’t want to shut you down so hard, but I felt like things were starting to get out of control… It was too intense, too quick for me, baby,” she exhaled gustily, “I was afraid things were happening too fast,” she said, voice trailing away.



Reaching out to her, I finally captured her fingers in my hands, gently pulling her down next to me and I put my arms around her. “I love you Mom. I won’t forget my promise. I’m sorry I frightened you.” I buried my face in her hair, taking a deep breath of her clean scent, once again inhaling soap and sandalwood. I held her this way for some time and she gradually relaxed, putting her hands over my arms as I lightly rocked her. Hesitantly, I asked her, “Are you still going out with me tomorrow night?”



She squeezed my forearms and tilted her head back to kiss my cheek. “Of course, Ricky.”



I heaved a large sigh of relief and then stirred slightly, in preparation of getting up, but Mom pushed back against me, holding my forearms tighter. “Going somewhere, buster?”



She scooted back towards me, her hips forcing my knees apart until her buttocks were pushed up against my perpetually aching crotch, back resting on my chest. Turning her head back to me, she said, “Let’s try that again, darling. I do trust you, you know.”



She found my lips for a reassuring kiss. As our lips joined a second time, her tongue immediately sought mine. She tasted of toothpaste, clean and cool. Flicking and lashing together, she sucked me into her mouth and broke our kiss with a small sigh, a silvery string of saliva stretching between our lips. Resuming the kiss with a sigh, she pressed her lips even harder against mine. Never breaking our contact, Mom moved my hands from her waist and undid the sash of her robe. Thrusting her tongue urgently into my mouth, she sought out my hands and squeezed them and them brought them up and placed them on her breasts. “Mmmmm, Ricky, please touch me,” she whispered.



“Mom… are you sure?”



“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” she whispered reassuringly.



I felt like I had been bodily transported to paradise. I gently cupped each soft, supple heaviness through the material of her pajama tops, slowly running my fingers all over and around those sublime orbs, lightly probing and sliding, committing every millimeter of her wonderful contours to memory. When I delicately ran my fingertips over her hardening nipples the first time, she gasped into my mouth and moaned.



“Ooohh, baby, that feels so nice.”



As I gently palmed her breasts through the light flannel of the pajama top, now lightly squeezing her nipples between my fingertips, Mom began to push herself back against my straining groin. The pressure was unbearable and I began to involuntarily thrust forward to meet her, feeling the smooth contour of her lower back through the layers of fabric. As I continued to knead her breasts, paying more vigorous attention to her nipples, she began moaning almost continuously into my mouth as our kiss continued, still tasting each other’s tongues. I could feel the pressure beginning to build in my groin as I dry-humped Mom’s back. Her hands had been resting on top of mine, gently holding them in place on her breasts as I caressed her, but now, I saw her drop her right hand to her abdomen, fingers disappearing beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She stiffened slightly, moaning into my mouth, her own hand moving beneath the front of her pajama pants.



I was incredibly excited by the sight, my fingers lightly pinching her nipples through the flannel of her PJs as she began to stroke herself. Unable to contain myself, I quickly unbuttoned her top, my hands rapidly finding their way back to her heaving chest.



Holding my mother’s bare breasts in my hands for the first time, I marveled at their silky heft, the warm smoothness of her skin. Tracing my fingers around the slight bumpiness at the perimeter of her areolae, I sought the small erect monuments of her nipples with my fingertips, lightly pinching and kneading them. Exhaling her breath in a sibilant hiss, Mom arched her back to push herself more fully into my clasping hands.



“Oh, baby, that’s so good. Yessssss, just like that. Touch your Mommy.”



She must have been at least as turned on as I was, because after only a few seconds of my stimulation and her stroking her own slit, she cried out and arched her back even more, exhaling sharply into a long, drawn out sigh. “Ahhhhh, god! Riickeeee…”



As she raised her hips in climax, I suddenly found mine sliding underneath her bottom. She immediately responded by grinding down into my crotch. My cock now nestled into the crack of her ass, I continued my humping movements. It was immediately too much for me. I stiffened myself, feeling a great tightness beginning in my groin and spreading outwards. I pushed upwards against her back crevice, raising her wonderful firm cheeks further off the sofa, crashing into my own orgasm. “Ahhhhhmygodmygod Mooooooooooom!” I must have ejaculated at least a half dozen huge ropes of cum, completely saturating my shorts and immediately soaking through to dampen the seat of Mom’s pajamas.



With a shudder, I collapsed completely back onto the couch, twitching with the nearly unbearable pleasure of my climax. Mom was also totally spent, her chest heaving and flushed from her arousal, a light sheen of perspiration on her face and upper chest, as she settled back against me. I let my hands slide down off her breasts with a sigh, resting them on warm softness of her belly, hugging her close. Her arms closed over mine and she sighed contentedly. We lay quietly like this for some minutes, not speaking, just breathing and holding, until Mom spoke.



“My bottom is all wet, you naughty boy,” she whispered. “I need to get cleaned up, and so do you.”



We struggled to our feet, knees wobbly, slowly making our way upstairs. I cleaned myself off quickly in the bathroom, wincing with the contact of the cold, wet washcloth on my cock and balls. Putting on a fresh pair of shorts, I went to Mom’s room. As I walked through the doorway, Mom was just shrugging a nightgown over he shoulders, her back to me. For a brief moment, I could see the flawless skin of her back, the elegant, elongated and serrated curve of her spine, her perfect buttocks encased in a pair of plain, white, cotton bikini panties. As the gown settled around her calves, Mom turned and started, seeing me in the doorway. “Were you peeking, mister?”



“Maybe just a little, Mom. You are so beautiful.”



“Well, beautiful or not, I’m tired. It’s bed time.”



I walked over to the bedside and turned down the covers. “I’ll tuck you in.” I got her settled and pulled the covers up under her chin. I sat on the edge of the bed, and kissed her lightly on her lips, touching her cheek lightly. “G’night, my gorgeous mother, sleep well.”



“Good night, son. Off with you now, get some rest.” She closed her eyes, a half smile on her lips. Her eyelids fluttered then she was elsewhere.



But I didn’t leave. Captivated, I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep for almost half an hour, taking in every detail of her face. The worry lines on her forehead slowly smoothed away and her breathing became soft and regular. I could see the slight flare of her delicate nostrils every time she exhaled. Gradually, I could detect the movement of her eyes beneath their lids as she began to dream. A small smile appeared on her lips and did not fade. When I went to bed, I also slept with a smile, heavily and dreamlessly.



When I swam my way back to consciousness the next morning, it was already well past 10 am. It was a typical August morning, sky a bluish gray haze of suspended dust and suffocating humidity, the beginnings of cumulus clouds evident, likely foretelling afternoon thundershowers. After I deflated my morning wood, I went downstairs to the kitchen. A pot of hot coffee was already on, a note beside it. It read, “Ricky – I’m out doing some shopping for tonight. See you later this afternoon. Love and Kisses, Mom. P.S. Keep you hands out of your pants today. XO m.”



As I stood in the middle of the kitchen, reading and rereading the note, I was torn between exasperation and breathless anticipation. Was she just teasing me? That thought was torture on one hand, but strangely reassuring and satisfying on the other. It felt like an affectionate, intimate jest between lovers.



The other possibility was, of course, a direct request. “Don’t be whacking off, big guy. I’ve got plans for this evening,” I imagined her voice in my head, throaty and sultry.



It didn’t bear any further thought, I concluded. Spending any more time trying to read between the lines would only drive me crazy. I carefully folded the paper and put it in my shirt pocket, patting it once for good luck, a small smile on my face. I mentally squared my shoulders and set about getting something to eat.



As I sat in the breakfast nook, sipping a mug of coffee and absently chewing on some toast, I reviewed my mental checklist for the evening’s activities. I had one or two details to double check, but most everything was in order. I reread Mom’s note, a stupid-silly smile on my face. I finished my coffee and headed out the door.



Necessary stops this morning included the florist and dry cleaners. I took my time, knowing if I sat around at home, I’d be a candidate for a rubber room before the day was out. When I got back, Mom was still out. I surfed the web, made a few desultory attempts at using my old PlayStation, paced around the house, tried reading a book, paced around the house, tried taking a nap, paced around the house and then to break up the monotony, I paced around the house.



Mom finally arrived home just before 4, breezing through the kitchen with several shopping bags. She gave me a glancing kiss and swept upstairs. “Gotta start getting ready for my hot date, kiddo,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be ready by 6. See ya.” With that she was gone. Shortly after, I heard her drawing a bath.



Of course I was ready long before Mom came down. I had dressed in a dark, raw silk blazer, which Mom had bought for me for job interviews, some charcoal slacks and a white shirt and tie. I sat in the family room, idly surfing the channels while I waited for Mom to make her appearance. Finally, about 5 minutes before we needed to leave, I heard her bedroom door open. I quietly pulled out my cellphone and speed-dialed. I said, “We’re ready,” and hung up quickly. Then she came down the stairs.

Sweet Jesus.



As anxious as I felt before, as taxing as the wait was, I would have gladly endured a month of pacing and hand wringing to see what was now in front of me.



She was clad in a brilliant deep crimson, sequined evening dress. It was designed in sheath fashion, flowing diagonally off her right shoulder, the left exposed. The smooth fabric draped across her chest in the same line, leaving the upper portion of her left chest and the top third of her left breast bare. It flowed over the slight, sexy, womanly bulge of her belly and then her hips, ending in an asymmetric, slanting hemline which nearly reached to her left knee, but left a long, delectable expanse of her smooth right thigh exposed. A pair of glossy, sheer hose and matching red pumps completed the effect. It was elegant. It was sophisticated. It was alluring. It was my wettest dream, encased in sparkles, sequins and ruby silk. When she reached the last step, she paused briefly, hand on bannister, one gorgeous leg extended above the last step, ankle slightly cocked.



“Fuck me running,” I muttered under my breath.



Mom turned around slowly once when she got to the bottom of the stairs, looking at me expectantly. I gulped and cleared my throat.



“Ehhmmmm. Mom. Unbelievable!” I croaked.



“You like it?”



There was only one response. I closed the distance between us and kissed her hard. Her eyes widened in surprise and then her arms came around my neck as she returned the favor, tongue lightly dancing on my lips. She broke the kiss and took a deep breath, palm on my chest.



“Whew! I guess I had my question answered, big boy.”



“There’s only one thing needed to complete your outfit, pretty lady.” I quickly stepped into the dining room and brought out the fruits of my visit to the florist, hiding them behind my back. I came back into the foyer and presented a large bouquet of mixed red, orange and deep pink roses to Mom.



She took in a quick breath of surprise and teared up. “Oh Ricky, sweetheart! You didn’t need to do this. They’re perfect, so beautiful! Thank you so much, darling!” That earned me another heartfelt, passionate kiss.



I picked one newly opening red rose from the bouquet and handed it to Mom. “We’ll take this with us.”



I took her hand a led her towards the front door. “The car, Ricky?” she questioned.



“I made other arrangements,” I replied. The timing was perfect. As we stepped out onto the porch, the limo pulled up to the curb.



I have to be honest and say that I’ve never been a big fan of the various kinds of stretch vehicles that seem to be so popular these days for proms and other special events. I find them to be vulgar and ostentatious. This car, on the other hand, was perfect for the occasion. It was a gleaming, midnight black, 6 door Mercedes Grand 600, about 1970 vintage. It was the perfect combination of luxury and understated, sophisticated elegance.



Mom gripped my arm in surprise. “Ricky! How did you manage…”



“I have my ways, Mom. I know lots of people in the City and through Uncle Louie too.”



She pulled me close and leaned her head on my shoulder as we strolled to the sidewalk. “I love you, son,” she whispered.



“I told you I wanted us to have a memorable evening, Mom.” I put my arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. “I love you too, you know.”



The driver stood ready at the door, holding it open for us. “Good evening, Mr. Lindermann, ma’am. My name is Lydia. It will be my pleasure to be your driver this evening. Please make yourself comfortable and we’ll get under way shortly.”



I handed Mom into the back and joined her. After closing our door, Lydia slid behind the steering wheel and turned to look at us, eyes taking Mom in with appreciation. “Sorvino’s as planned, sir?”



“Yes, please,” I replied.



“Very good, sir.” Lydia paused for a moment and quietly cleared her throat. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but may I say that I seldom have the opportunity to chauffeur such an attractive couple? Madame is particularly beautiful this evening.”



“Thank you Lydia, and no, you’re not out of line. I couldn’t agree more,” I replied, squeezing Mom’s hand.



Our driver turned her attention to the dashboard and pushed a button. A thick, smoked glass partition rose with a whisper in front of us and then we were enveloped in luxurious silence as the Benz pulled smoothly away from the curb.



Mom snuggled under my arm and put her hand on my knee. “Sorvino’s eh? I can’t remember the last time I went out for dinner and dancing.”



“You deserve it, Mom. Can I interest you in some champagne?”



“Mmmmm. Yes, please. Not five minutes out of the house and you’re already spoiling me rotten.”



I gave her a slow, thorough kiss, lips closed, just tender and affectionate, Mom sighing happily when I broke it.



“That’s the general idea.” I opened the wet bar in front of us and extracted a split of Veuve Cliquot and two chilled glasses. Pouring into the flutes, I raised mine in toast. “To my beautiful mother, who I love very much.”



“To my handsome, talented son, who I love just as much,” she replied, clinking our glasses together.



We settled in close to each other, thigh to thigh, each sipping our drinks, my arm around her shoulders, her free hand resting casually on my leg, stroking lightly. We spoke little during the ride, savoring our champagne and sharing an occasional kiss as we wound our way through the countryside to the supper club. I savored every mile of our journey, memorizing every detail as we made our way into the countryside.



Our arrival at the club and Mom’s exit from the limousine created quite a stir. All eyes were on her as we entered the club and I gave my name to the maître d’. I was very conscious of and highly gratified by all of the attention Mom garnered as we were escorted to our table. Turning to whisper in her ear, I told her how proud I was to have the most beautiful woman in the building at my side. She gave me a radiant smile and squeezed my arm, kissing my cheek.



As we settled in our booth adjacent to the dance floor, I beckoned to the hostess. Handing her Mom’s rose, I asked, “Could you bring this back in a small vase, please?”



“Certainly sir. The band will begin playing in about 10 minutes. Are you planning on dancing? If so, we can hold your orders until you finish.”



“That would be perfect, thank you.”



We decided on a Carpaccio of tenderloin with rosemary olive oil, to be followed by a Caesar salad and a traditional ossobuco in bianco with risotto alla Milanese, washed down with a bottle of Tignanello. As we finished placing our order, the band and singer took the stage. Nodding towards the floor, I took Mom’s hand. “May I have this dance, mother?”



“It would be my pleasure, young sir.”



Taking her hand in mine, I led Mom to the center of the dance floor, taking her into my arms as the band began its first song.



The opening number was perfect, so much so that it could hardly have been better scripted. As the strains of T-Bone Walker’s old classic “Glamour Girl” wove around us, I drew Mom in close to me and kissed her cheek.



“There’s no one here that can hold a candle to you, Mom. You’re absolutely gorgeous and I’m feeling very fortunate.”



As she moved in closer, the front of Mom’s thighs brushed against mine. My response was as rapid and involuntary as usual. As she felt me hardening against her, a small smile formed and she drew me in closer. “You’re a good dancer, Ricky. I feel so nice and tingly when you hold me.”



Delicately manipulating our trajectory to the far corner of the dance floor, Mom tilted her head to me and we shared, a soft, slow kiss. At the same time, she reached behind her back and guided my right hand to her ass.



Startled, but immensely gratified, my hand flowed over her supple, rounded contour, Mom lightly grinding against me, intensifying our kiss, her tongue seeking me out.



“Mmmmm, baby. You sure know how to show your Mom a good time.”



We continued our circuit of the floor, my hand never left Mom’s luscious behind. I continued to caress her curves, occasionally cupping and squeezing, to small, soft murmurs of approval into my ear. One of her hands would occasionally drop down from my shoulders, sliding slowly to my waist, drawing our pelvises together for a slight, subtle grind. She seemed to know exactly when to do this, intensifying the sensuality of our dance together.



By comparison, I began to feel a bit like a bull in the proverbial china shop, with my not so subtle groping of her ass, so I slowly changed my own explorations to more closely mimic hers, taking more time to concentrate on every aspect of our contact.



I savored the glide of my hand across the soft skin of her back between her spine and shoulder blade, the subtle tilt and bump of the crest of her pelvis as I rested my hand on her hip while we moved together. I would run my fingers down the serrated prominence of her spine, only occasionally and unpredictably letting her know I had not forgotten about her marvelous bottom.



Much to my surprise, I found that while I very much enjoyed my initial, very direct explorations of her sweet cheeks, when I changed to the more nuanced reconnaissance of her luscious figure, it actually intensified my arousal tremendously. It was an epiphany, realizing that I was in the middle of the restaurant, having socially acceptable foreplay with my oh-so-desirable mother.



Mom definitely noticed and appreciated the change in my attentions, hugging me closer, again whispering in my ear.



“You’re a fast learner and a very good dancer, son. You know exactly how to treat a lady and make her feel special,” she breathed, her own hand running lightly over my ass.



“But it has to be the right lady, Mom,” I grinned back.



“I’m going to have to watch myself around you, young man. You are a dangerously charming fellow.”



With some surprise, we noticed that we were alone on the dance floor. The band had finished its first set and we hadn’t even noticed – an hour had gone by like the snapping of fingers.



Offering Mom my arm, I led her back to our table. “Step this way, gorgeous. We have a dinner waiting for us.”



Our meal was excellent and the service unobtrusive, which I greatly appreciated. We concentrated on enjoying each other’s company and I found myself really feeling as though I were on a date with a beautiful woman. Mom was absolutely captivating, putting me completely under her spell (as if I wasn’t already totally besotted with her.) Our conversation was scintillating, engaging, humorous and adult. More than once, I found myself thinking “How can a woman this beautiful, this intelligent and this alluring not have men crawling out of the woodwork to be with her?” I mentally shrugged my shoulders and rejoiced at the male race’s collective loss and my gain, at the same time noting that the band had returned to the dais.



We broke from our entrees for a second round of dancing, which was even more amazing than the first, if that was possible. As I took Mom in my arms, she immediately steered us to the far corner of the dance floor. Pressing herself close to me, she caressed my back and shoulders as we moved together, her touch more insistent, lingering and overtly sensual than before. She murmured appreciation as I discretely cupped her ass cheek with one hand, lightly grinding her pelvis against me. Then, unbelievably, her hand found its way to the tented front of my trousers, lightly running her palm over my hardness.



I was so startled I almost stumbled. I certainly had fantasized about Mom touching my cock, but I never expected the first time to be in public! It was bold, stimulating and very unexpected. I was awestruck as I considered the implications. Mom’s actions were like the briefest glimpse through a keyhole into a room crammed with sexual possibilities, hinting that the woman I held in my arms was far more sensuous, possibly far more uninhibited than I had ever imagined.



Mom was looking at me as she surreptitiously caressed my cock through my slacks, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as she took in my eyes widening in shock, as well as my gasp of pleasure. Slipping her other hand behind my neck, she gently drew me down to whisper in my ear.



“I’m having a wonderful evening, darling. Thank you so much for everything. I wish we could be like this all night.”



Cupping her chin in my hand, I looked into her blue pools and murmured “It’s entirely my pleasure, Mom. I’m so happy to be here with you – it’s another one of my dreams, finally coming true.”



Slipping her arms up my back and around my shoulders, she tilted her head to mine and kissed me thoroughly, tongue lightly dancing with mine as she lightly pressed herself against my throbbing groin. As our kiss intensified, her thrusting became more overt and my excitement became almost unbearable.



Breaking our kiss with great reluctance, I pulled back slightly. “If we keep this up, I’m going to have a messy problem, Mom.”



Eyes sparkling with amusement, she ran a finger over my bulging front one last time and then took my hand, leading us back to our table.



“We certainly can’t allow that, handsome. Let’s have some dessert and cool things down for a while. You’re severely tempting me tonight, you hunk,” she breathed. I jumped a little as she patted my ass.



“The feeling’s mutual, Mom,” I replied softly. “Never in my life have I seen you looking so beautiful.”



Our desserts arrived, but neither of us were really interested, just picking at them while we spent most of the time gazing at each other, sharing an occasional kiss. Nearly simultaneously, we pushed our plates away and looked at each other. Mom smiled and reached out, placing her hand over mine.



“Thanks again, Ricky. It’s been a fantastic evening. Can we go home now?”



“As my lady wishes.” Mom snuggled in close to me while I settled our tab and then we got up, linking arms and strolling to the front entrance. Lydia was waiting at the limo, door open and engine idling.



“Good evening. Did you have a good time?”



Mom beamed and squeezed my arm tightly. “It was wonderful, thanks.”



After we settled into the back, Lydia turned to face us. “Where can I take you? Any clubbing planned?”



Mom was seated as close to me as possible, her hand idly tracing over the top of my upper thigh. I replied, “No thank you, Lydia. I think we’ll be heading home now.”



Mom gave my thigh a caressing squeeze of approval, seeming to promise that our evening was not yet over. Lydia nodded once and smiled, again raising the partition as we pulled away from Sorvino’s.



All the way home, we cuddled and necked, our kisses becoming more and more passionate as we wound our way back to the house. Mom’s hands were all over me, caressing my back, my shoulders and chest. In turn, I ran my hands over her flanks and spine, bringing them around and forward to lightly brush her breasts. Mom leaned into me harder, her hand unbuttoning my shirt to reach my skin. Her touch was warm, gentle and incredibly exciting. I tentatively raised my hand to cup one of her breasts, rubbing her nipple lightly with my thumb.



Moaning slightly into our kiss, her hand clenched my thigh as she thrust her tongue urgently into my mouth, lashing at my own. As I increased the pressure on her breast, her hand cupped my crotch, lightly squeezing and stroking, gently exploring the length and circumference of my hardness.



Nearly out of my mind with excitement, I placed my hand on the upper edge of her gown, looking at her with an unspoken question in my eyes. Mom bit her lower lip and tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, smiling warmly. Somehow, at that point, I knew Mom had made some kind of internal decision. Things were changing again.



“Yes, darling, please,” she whispered, stroking my cheek.



Still, I paused, having been down this road before. It had been the night of my dreams so far and I still was having difficulty knowing what Mom felt comfortable with at any given time. I was burning for her, but I didn’t want to ruin our perfect evening.



Running her hands through my hair, Mom pulled me back up to her face, looking into my eyes with tenderness, lust and a touch of knowing compassion as well.



“It’s okay, my love. It’s what I want, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid.”



I groaned and sucked in a huge lung full of air, pulling down sharply on the band of fabric flowing over her left breast, allowing it to pop into view. I was close to blacking out, not realizing I had been literally holding my breath.



Mom gasped sharply as I quickly bent to take her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently and rolling my tongue over its rubbery hardness. Her hands found the back of my neck and head, holding me in place, stroking my hair, as I tasted her for the first time.



There are no words for what that felt like, the combination of flavor, the smell of her perfume, the elastic stiffness of her nipple between my lips.



“Ohhh, honey, that’s sooo nice,” she sighed, drawing my head to her more closely. “You make Mommy feel so good, baby.”



Encouraged by her response, I took her breast more firmly in hand, pulling as much of her flesh into my mouth as possible. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to suckle her. It was an outrageously erotic combination of desire, tenderness and comfort, a completely forbidden collision of lust and a return to deeply ingrained childhood memories. It was the most exciting sexual experience of my life to that point, and Mom appeared to be as excited as I was.



As I continued my oral assault on her breast, Mom’s hand again trailed its way to my crotch, feverishly kneading my erection. I was right on the edge, excited beyond belief, when I felt her fingers scrabbling for my fly. Groaning around her saliva-slicked breast flesh, I arched my back, thrusting my pelvis up to her questing fingers. If it was possible, Mom began kissing me even harder, biting my lower lip, sucking my tongue into her mouth. I was mere seconds away from exploding in my pants.



Just as her hand found the tab to my zipper, the Benz came to a stop. We were home. We pulled back quickly from one another, breathless, pulses thundering with illicit passion. With a sharp pang of regret, I loosened my hold on her breast, carefully tucking it back into her dress. At the same time, Mom drew her hand away from my groin, trailing her fingers along my thigh, as though loathe to relinquish any contact with me. Lydia announced our arrival through the intercom and after a discrete delay, tapped on the window of the door. I opened it, stepped out and took Mom’s hand in mine, assisting her out on to the sidewalk. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, gripping my arm tightly.



As I handed Mom out of the car, I glanced over to Lydia. She grinned and whispered, “Your mo…um, date is a beautiful lady.” She then winked knowingly, tipped her cap and slid back behind the wheel. I tipped her generously and then escorted Mom up the walkway to the front of the house as the limo slowly cruised off into the night.



The porch lamp dimly illuminated the front stoop; small swarms of moths and other insects orbiting randomly within its pale cone of amber light. The evening was warm and humid with the residual heat of the August day, the air close and slightly stifling around us. A symphony of crickets and frogs accompanied us on our walk forward.



Standing on the porch, I fumbled with the house keys briefly before getting things unlocked. As I pushed the door open, standing to one side for Mom to pass, she paused and turned towards me. Reaching up with both hands, she cupped my face and drew me down into a smoldering kiss. She put all of her concentration and effort into it, silently telling me with her tongue, teeth and lips how she was feeling. When we broke to breathe, I felt like I was floating on air.

“Jesus,” I whispered softly. “You are unbelievable, Mom. Nobody has ever kissed me like that, nobody.”



Looking up to me, she stroked my cheek, smiling gently. “When something really matters, you need to give it everything you’ve got…I love you, Ricky.”



I gathered her into my arms and she crossed hers around my neck. I returned her kiss, trying to give as good as I had just gotten. I seemed to do okay, because Mom moaned into my mouth and ran her fingers through my hair, pressing up against me. When we pulled apart again, we were both breathing in gasping wheezes, overwhelmed by our sensations and emotions.



“Whew! You’re not too shabby either, son. A girl could get addicted to being kissed like that,” she exhaled in a rush.



Suddenly realizing where we were, Mom looked up and down the street with a little concern and then took my hands, pulling me over the threshold. “Let’s take this inside, darling. We don’t want to worry about prying eyes.”



Settling herself with a visible shudder, Mom fussed with her hair for a moment and adjusted her dress, tugging on the hem. I’m still amazed that I had the presence of mind to offer her my arm before we stepped through the doorway.



Our proper, correct entrance into the house lasted about five seconds. As we stepped out of the illumination of the porch light, into the darkened foyer, Mom’s hand slid up from my elbow to my back and her other found my ass, pulling me roughly to her. Her chin tilted up and her lips parted, still moist from our last kiss. Never breaking our embrace, we stumbled into the living room and I found myself pushed on to the couch, Mom standing over me with her hands on her hips and the gleam of lust in her eyes.



“Well, well,” she drawled. “What do we have here?” she asked, her gaze clearly focused on the tent in the front of my slacks.



“It’s something that belongs to you, Mom,” I said with a smile. “Maybe you’d like to see what it is.”



Mom smiled back, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead as she spoke, “Perhaps, perhaps in due course, my fine young man. But in the mean time,” she purred, moving to stand athwart my legs, “There are other things that need doing.”



With that, she slid on to my thighs, her legs straddled outside of mine. She scooted up until our groins were nearly touching, her dress riding up over her hips, exposing the tops of her stockings and her red satin panties. Leaning in to kiss me again, I could feel the pressure of her thighs on mine and the heat of her crotch, panties stretched tight over her mons, her sex like a humid furnace next to my pulsing cock.



Her arms went around my neck again and she stooped to conquer, her lips almost bruising mine with the intensity of her kiss. As her tongue found mine, her hand again made its way to my crotch, stroking, grasping, pulling, caressing. My own found their way to her satin-encased buttocks, pulling her against me. Mom groaned and kissed me harder.



Sliding my hands up her sides, I reached up to her shoulders, finding a clasp on one side. As I pulled blindly, it gave way with a slight pop and the top half of the dress slid down to her waist in a soft whisper of fabric over smooth skin. With the sudden release of tension, her breasts practically fell into my eager, impatient hands. Wasting no time, I pulled her close, capturing a nipple in my mouth, again lost in the glorious sensation of nursing, licking and teasing, this time drawing not milk, but lusty moans from my mother.



As she cradled my head against her breasts, she bent her head to my ear, whispering in a confessional tone, “When you were a baby, sometimes I would cum when you nursed. I loved having my titties sucked. It’s so nice to feel that again.”



Groaning inarticulately, I tried to stuff as much of Mom’s slick tit flesh into my mouth as I could, mouthing, sucking, lightly chewing as though possessed.



“Oh God, Ricky, that’s so good,” she exhaled, shuddering. “Suck momma’s titties some more, baby. Oh yes. Yesssss,” she hissed.



As I suckled, Mom’s hands were busy at my belt, almost frantic in their serial search for my buckle, button and fly. These obstacles were eventually overcome and I felt her fingers jerk down my zipper, the bulge of my straining rod pushing against the front of my exposed boxers. As her hands began to stroke again, only the slight barrier my briefs separated her hand from my cock, the thinness of the fabric allowing her to fully encircle my girth for the very first time.



As she explored my length, she cooed, “Oooh, baby, you have such a nice one.”



“So big and hard, so big and hard for me,” she said, a rising note of wonder in her voice.



“Just for me, my baby, just for your own mother,” she whispered, a quiet note of triumph ringing in her words.



There was something in the way she said those few sentences, an erotic fusion of affection, frank, outright lust and strangely, motherly pride, which set me absolutely burning with desire and love. With an inarticulate growl of passion, I redoubled my sucking of her breasts, bringing my hands back to her waist and then thrusting them beneath the fabric of her panties to grasp the naked cheeks of her ass for the very first time.



The feel of her smooth, round globes beneath my hands was astounding. The taut silkiness of her buttocks was indescribable. When I slid my hands beneath her to cup her ass, she pressed her groin fully against me, throwing her arms around my neck to administer a fiery kiss.



“Oh, Ricky, what you do to me,” she sighed.



As she spoke, she began a slow, deliberate thrusting against my groin, moaning into my mouth as she continued to kiss me.



“Ahhhh, Mommmm,” I groaned in return.



Continuing our deep kiss, I returned her thrusts, reveling in the sensation of her moist panties against my groin. Never breaking our kiss, I sensed Mom’s hands drifting down to my waist, tugging insistently at my waistband. With a small grunt of effort and an assist from me raising my hips, she lifted her hips from the top of my thighs and frantically pushed the slacks to my ankles. Settling back into my lap with a sigh, she resumed her grinding against me.



Free of the partial imprisonment of my slacks, I was separated from heaven by two insubstantial barriers, Mom’s juice-saturated panties and my own boxers, rapidly dampening from my own precum and mother’s moistness. The wetness of our groins combined to produce an incredibly arousing slightly slippery friction as we rubbed against each other. As she ground her pussy against me, I could feel the length of my cock, nestled against her wetness, splaying her lips apart as we dry fucked against each other. She whimpered as each cycle of our thrust and grind brought my head and shaft into contact with her clit.



The incredible sensation of almost fucking my mother had me rapidly approaching the point of no return and Mom’s movements were becoming more rapid and jerky, as she seemed to ascend her own crest. Breaking our ongoing kiss, head down and breathing in short gasps, she seemed to be watching our groins thrust together. Shuddering, she moaned in my ear, tongue lightly tracing over its edge.



“Ohhhh God, baby. You feel so nice,” she sighed, moist exhalation warming the side of my neck.



I was already out of my mind with desire and the amazing sensations radiating from my groin, but as aroused as I was, that simple act of lightly pushing her tongue into my ear did something to me. It was like the last brushstroke that makes a simple picture into a masterpiece. It simply took my excitement to an entirely new plane. I wasn’t capable of a single coherent thought.



But it didn’t matter anyway, because Mom had latched back onto my mouth with another ferocious kiss, trying to completely devour me. All I could do was clutch her ass tighter, kneading her cheeks with almost brutal intensity. Then I was beyond the edge, squeezing her ass as hard as I could, thrusting against her, pulling her cheeks apart.



“Ohhhh, Mom! Ohhh, Mom! Cumming, Mom! I’m cumming! Ahhhhhhhhh!”



As I flooded my underwear with a seemingly endless stream of pulsing semen, Mom tore her mouth from mine, thrusting herself against me with her full strength, a keening moan torn from her throat.



“Oh my God! Ohhhh, shit! Oh, baby! I’m cumming! Mommy’s cumming too!” she wailed.



All was a chaos of gasping breaths, sweaty limbs, tangled garments, post-coital twitches and shudders for a few minutes and then we gradually came to ourselves.



Mom’s arms were draped over my shoulders, her head down, forehead resting just beneath my chin. As she gasped out the final dregs of her orgasm, I could feel the tips of her still-hard nipples lightly scraping against my chest, our sodden crotches still pressed tight against each other. I reluctantly relinquished my grip on her ass cheeks, bringing my hands up to rest on her waist.



Tilting her head up, she kissed me softly but thoroughly, each of us savoring the other’s tongue. We continued with our kisses for several minutes, enveloped in a silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing, lightly touching and caressing.



After a last, very tender kiss, Mom leaned forward, her forehead touching mine, arms around my neck. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t seem to marshal my feelings into any coherent words, so I simply whispered, “I love you, Mom.”



She smiled, touched my cheek and got up off my lap. As she stood, her dress slid off her hips to drop to the floor in a crimson, iridescent puddle. Standing before me, unashamed, panties wet, nipples still erect, she held out her hand to me.



“C’mere big boy. Give your mother another kiss.”



Rising up into her arms, she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, giving me another searing kiss. Her hands roamed over my back and ass, squeezing me just as I had done to her minutes earlier. Pressing close, she rubbed her breasts against my chest, nipples hard as pink diamonds. I became hard again within a minute, Mom smiling appreciatively as she noticed my resurgence against the damp front of her panties.



“Mmmm, ‘youth must be served’,” she chuckled, palming my erection.



Groaning as she felt me through my boxers, I bent to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking and licking, tracing the cord of her neck and her collarbone with my tongue. Throwing her head back with a moan, Mom squeezed my cock firmly and began a deliberate stroking motion. I was beside myself with arousal. I had only come a few minutes ago, but I was leaking precum like a sieve all over again. Mom seemed to know exactly how to excite me, how to drive me absolutely crazy with pleasure, and she still hadn’t actually touched my bare skin!



Trailing my kisses and tonguing across her shoulder, I bent lower to capture one of her nipples again, her free hand again moving to lightly hold the back of my neck as I feasted, her fingers toying with the curls at the nape of my neck.



“Oh, sweetheart, baby, that’s wonderful,” she sighed. “You suck my titties so nicely…ahhh!” she exhaled, reacting to a gentle bite delivered to her teat. Somehow, I knew instinctively that she’d love that light nip.



I was in heaven again, at my mother’s breast, her hands running through my hair, at the same time almost standing outside myself in utter amazement. I had never been a boob man growing up, in the sense that bigger was always better, but there was something about what I was doing with Mom, something so basic, loving, so arousing, so intimate that it defied all description or explanation. I knew I could stay attached to her nipple, devoting my sole attention to her breasts for hours, but Mom had other ideas.



Apparently changing her mind about getting up, she gently propelled me back to the sofa, pushing me on to my back, laying fully on top of me, grinding her pelvis against mine. We seemed to melt into a single squirming, panting and thrusting entity, lips fused, hands wandering freely over each other.



As Mom continued to stroke me through my boxers, I carefully, tentatively moved my hand on to her haunch, slowly taking in the satin smoothness of her skin and the underlying tautness of her muscles. Moving my palm between her legs, I reveled in the slightly plump softness of her inner thighs, slowly questing higher. Sighing her approval as I tentatively sought her treasure, Mom opened her legs, acquiescing fully to my explorations. When I cupped her mound, she drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. The experience was overwhelming; I was touching my Mom! Even though it was through her panties, it was still the most glorious thing I had ever experienced. The sensation of smooth satin against my fingertips, the hothouse heat of her crotch, the slight seepage of moisture, the wiry texture of her pubic hair, felt though the slick material and spilling out from the sides of the gusset, they excited me beyond any capacity of coherent thought.





As my fingers slid back and forth along the concealed groove of her slippery wetness, Mom moaned into my mouth, her hand grasping my own hardness with increasing strength and purpose. What were once deft caresses of exploration and introduction were now overtly erotic. While she jacked me off through my briefs, my own fingers were in search of the concealed treasure underneath her panties, but when my fingers slid under the edge of her gusset, she squeezed her legs back together and minutely shook her head, slightly breaking our kiss.



I don’t know how I managed to restrain my hands, but there was still just enough blood flowing to the big head that I could hear a little voice that sounded uncannily like hers saying, “Don’t be greedy, Ricky.” I modified my touch, moving back to the center of the strip of fabric.



“That’s good, baby, oh yes. That’s so good,” she murmured, thrusting herself against my hand. Her panties were now absolutely saturated, the thinness of the silky fabric combining with her moisture to actually enhance the shape and definition of the delights behind that insubstantial barrier. The tactile impressions were amazing; a slight crinkle of pubic hair, the raised, meaty prominence of her lips on the sides of her divine groove and if I pressed, a sopping indentation that marked her portal. If I pressed hard, making Mom moan, there was an audible squelch as lubricious parts rubbed against each other. It was heavenly.



As we lay together on the couch, kissing wetly and furiously, I was completely overwhelmed by different sensations I was experiencing. So many amazing, wonderful things were happening at once, I could barely take it all in, each sensation by itself enough to drive me insane with pleasure. If it wasn’t the dance of our tongues together, it was the feel of her hard nipples against my chest. If it wasn’t the moans and grunts of pleasure I would hear when our kisses broke, it was the lusty stroking of my cock through my boxers, being flat out jacked off by my own mother. If it wasn’t that, it was the sound of my hand rubbing her sopping panties, liquid friction, slurping and squelching. If not those things, then the incredible, rich bouquet of powerfully aroused woman bathing my nostrils.



All too quickly, my synapses seized again and I was consumed by spasms of pleasure. Breaking my kiss with Mom, I groaned in her ear.



“Oh God, Mom. I gonna cum! I gonna cum again! Oh, Mom! Ohhh Mom!



OH MOM OH MOM!” I cried out as I spurted again in my underwear.



My cries of pleasure and release drove Mom over the brink as well, her thighs capturing my hand in a soft but unyielding vise as she thrust her sex against my palm, shuddering and whimpering as she came against my fingers.



For a while, we remained entwined, Mom in my lap with her legs unashamedly splayed over my thighs, lightly kissing every few moments as we settled back to earth. Her saturated panties and the glory within remained pressed up against my flaccid, sticky crotch. The sensation of our groins pressed together, the sheer novelty of the very idea was driving me out of my mind, but I was temporarily extinguished, with two very intense orgasms in rapid succession having put my little friend down for the count, at least for the moment.



Wrapping her arms around my neck, Mom drew me close for another kiss, this one tender, thorough and gentle. Rising off my lap, she trailed her fingers down my shoulders, lightly caressing my biceps, before reaching my hands, which she then grasped, pulling me to my feet.



Adding one more deep, sweet kiss, she said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Ricky. Everything about it was so special. I love you so much, son.”



“Love you too, Mom.”



Smiling wistfully, she turned away from me, almost with an air of regret, I thought and began walking towards the stairs to her bedroom.



“I’ve got a big day tomorrow, sweetheart. I need to pack before I go to the airport. I’m going to bed.”



I remained standing by the sofa, slacks around my ankles while I watched her amazing ass twitching and quivering beneath her panties as she walked to the stairs. I began to get hard all over again.



Sensing my gaze on her divine bottom, Mom paused and looked over her shoulder as she reached the first step, smiling indulgently. As she took in the new tube steak I was cooking up in my gooey shorts, her eyes widened in surprise.



“Jesus, Ricky! Is it ever NOT hard?”



“Not around you Mom, not ever.”



Chuckling, she shook her head, turned back towards the stairs and then pulled her panties, off, stripper style, shimmying them to her feet with a series of seductive twitches. Without looking back, she bent over in a lewd display, exposing her still moist slit and tight pucker as she gathered the saturated wad of fabric into her hand.



My jaw was on the floor and my erection was once again pink stone, jutting straight out through the fly of my boxers, twitching with my pulse.



With a casual flip of her wrist, she blindly tossed her panties over her shoulder towards me and I reached out reflexively to catch the wet delivery.



“There’s a little souvenir for you, Mister Energizer Bunny. That’s going to have to hold you until momma gets back from Vancouver, so don’t wear it out too quickly,” she laughed. With that, she went up the stairs, hips rolling and went into her room. She closed her door softly and within a minute, the light went out and the house became quiet.



I stood stock still by the sofa for a few astounded moments, incredibly turned on as well as bemused by mom’s exit. Gradually, the wisps of post orgasmic and returning horny fog cleared from my brain and I realized what treasure I held in my hands. Leaving my pants behind, I made a beeline for my own bedroom.



Flinging myself onto the bed, I brought Mom’s sopping panties to my face, inhaling her scent as I furiously stroked my resurgent cock, almost with a painful intensity and speed. As I sucked her essence from the gusset, I imagined I was eating her out for real, savoring my first real, albeit indirect sample of my mother’s gorgeous pussy!



It was the most wonderful thing I have ever tasted.



My orgasm crashed through me suddenly, without any warning, as I sprayed a huge quantity of juice all over my chest and belly. You would have thought that with the amount I ejaculated that I hadn’t come in a month, such was the intensity of my release. It was the best jacking off cum I’d ever experienced and I felt as limp as a flatworm as the last dribbles of semen oozed from my dick.



It must have been at least ten or fifteen minutes before I had enough energy to get out of bed and clean myself up. Crawling back under my covers, I fell asleep in moments, a smile on my face and Mom’s perfect panties still clutched in my hand. I slept ten hours straight.



***




I woke up the next morning to the sounds of Mom working in the kitchen. I felt absolutely and totally on top of the world, completely unbeatable. It seemed that Mom and I were inches away from being lovers, and if last night was any indication, it could happen any time. Making love with my gorgeous Mom was finally within my grasp, and If it could happen at a moment’s notice I reasoned, then why not now, I asked myself. All that was necessary was a little nudge, a little direct action, I thought.

So, armed with my morning wood, my few functioning brain cells pickled by testosterone and a complete lack of common sense, I dressed quickly and walked downstairs, ready to precipitate the Big Fuck.



Problem was, it didn’t turn out to be the Big Fuck, more of the Big Fuck Up. Jesus, I was so stupid, so selfish, but I couldn’t see it. I was out of control. I was so consumed by the thought of finally getting inside Mom that I nearly destroyed everything.



Strolling into the kitchen, I saw Mom working at the sink. I casually sauntered up behind her, putting an arm around her waist while I pulled her hair off her neck with the other, planting a warm, prolonged kiss where it met her shoulder.



Shuddering slightly, she turned to kiss me.



“Morning, Ricky. Did you sleep well?”



As I replied, my hands circled around to the front of her dress, resting on her hips.



“Like royalty, Mom. I had wonderful dreams.”



“I’ll bet you did, you…”



Her breath caught in her throat as my hands found their way upward, cupping her breasts through the brocaded fabric of the dress bodice.



“Ricky, that’s so nice, but you need to cut it out, sweetie. I really don’t have time for this right now!” she said with a note of slight reproach in her voice.



“It feels good, but you can’t just grope me in broad daylight, any time you feel like it!” she exclaimed, a note of anxiety creeping into her voice.



“”But Mom,” I groaned, “You turn me on soooo much. I need you,” I pleaded, grinding my erection against her ass.



“Enough! There’s no time for this now!” she snapped, this time with real anger.



Oblivious, I continued to grind against her, pawing her breasts and pinching her nipples. I felt like I was watching myself from a distance, completely consumed by lust, my own personal Mr. Hyde suddenly released into the world, ready to wreak sexual havoc on my unsuspecting Mom. The loving, devoted son I knew myself to be was gone, replaced by a brute I could not recognize. All of the previous months and years of suppressed longings and unfulfilled fantasies seemed to be boiling to the surface of a caldera of white hot desire, ready to spill over into a full fledged eruption of lust. I was burning up and could not stop what I was doing to save my life.



“That’s enough, buster!” she said forcefully. “Stop that this minute or you’ll be sorry!”



My response was to pin her harshly against the kitchen counter with my pelvis and torso, continuing to grind away at her ass while I fondled her breasts. By now, Mom was actively struggling against me, trying to break free, grunting with effort, but to no avail. I simply overpowered her with my strength.



By now a note of panic had enter her voice. Her eyes were wide with fear and I think, not a little loathing. Her mouth was beginning to take on the set of barely suppressed anger.



“For God’s sake Ricky, please don’t do this! Please stop, honey, you’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!”



The beast had taken over, though, and my ears were deaf to her pleas. Thrusting against her ass, I worked my shorts down to my ankles and then hunched to bring my erection beneath the hem of her dress. Rising up, I levered my cock up between her clenched thighs, right to the base of her panties.



At that moment, Mom shouted, “Stop it! Stop it! Someone’s coming, Ricky! Stop it now!” She was almost crying at this point.



In the haze of my uncontrolled lust, I rationalized that it was just a ploy to stop me from achieving my long-sought goal. As I continued to saw my cock between the softness of her thighs and her bottom, I felt my seed rising uncontrollably, such was my excitement. As I struggled to gain an angle of attack to get past the edge of her panties, several things happened.



I heard the front door open and a voice called out.



“Hello? Hello? Jennifer, are you home? It’s Marcia, do you have some time to talk?”



As I heard the voice, I felt a rising sense of panic that did little to reduce my drive to release. Marcia was the neighborhood gossip, a divorcee who didn’t work and spent most of her time as the self-appointed social doyenne of the neighborhood. She was nosy, insatiably curious, occasionally vindictive and possessed an uncanny knack for discovering embarrassing secrets.



The very real peril should she discover us did little to deter my ongoing assault on Mom’s virtue. As I heard Marcia’s steps slowly progressed down the hall towards us, I came between Mom’s thighs, shamefully squirting a load of sticky white juice all over the bottom of her panties and her upper thighs.



I frantically pulled my shorts up and practically dove into the kitchen nook as Mom struggled to pull her dress hem down over her ass. No more than a second or two later, Marcia appeared in the doorway.



Marcia stood very still for a moment and then spoke, apparently struggling to maintain a matter of fact tone, nodding at me.



“Good morning, Rick. I stopped by because I wanted to ask your mother a couple of questions. It seems though, that this might not be, ummm, the best timing for you guys,” she said carefully neutral, glancing at Mom’s legs. “If it’s okay with you Jennifer, perhaps I’ll come by a little later when it’s more convenient.”



With that, Marcia turned and left, slowly walking back to the foyer, where she let herself out quietly. She had kept expression neutral while speaking to us, but as she passed by me, I thought I saw her face slip into an expression of real shock.



My own gaze turned to where Marcia had glanced at Mom’s legs and my eyes widened. I could clearly see a glistening rivulet of semen running down the inside of her knee, making its way to her calf. In turn Mom directed her gaze in the same direction and gasped when she saw the telltale of my lust.



Eyes flashing and flushed with rage, Mom strode to the nook and grabbed me by the arm jerking me to my feet, hissing with rage.



“Upstairs, right this minute!”



I have never heard such anger or venom in her voice. Her grip on my arm was so tight, so painful, that I thought her nails were going to draw blood. My heart was in my mouth and between our terribly close call and Mom’s obvious fury, I knew that things were going to hit the fan, big time.



She practically dragged me upstairs to her bedroom. Thrusting me roughly through the door, into the center of the room she kicked the door shut as we passed over the threshold. She spun me around and what she did next shocked me to my core.



I never saw her hand move, but the blow was so swift and hard that it snapped my head back and I bit my tongue. The left side of my face was on fire and I could taste the coppery bitterness of my own blood in my mouth. Never in the 22 years of my life had Mom raised a hand against me. I had been grounded, sent to my room and forfeited privileges in the past for my misbehavior for some pretty serious transgressions, including nearly burning down our work shed when I was 10 while playing with matches and paint thinner, and wrecking the family car after having my license for only 2 months, but those were over and forgiven once I completed my penance for those mistakes. They were never mentioned again.



As Mom stood before me, her chest heaved and her eyes glinted with a cold fury I had never seen before. She had struck me so hard that her left breast had popped out of the bodice of her sundress in all its glory. The nipple was still erect from my previous caresses and I could see the slight glint of my saliva on her rosy pink areola. A small rivulet of my spend was visible on the inside of one of her knees, slowly dripping down to her calf. There were small whitish drops of my drying semen on the toes of both shoes.



She looked me over with a measuring glance, taking in the slight bulge of my now flaccid cock within my gym shorts and the dampness on the front of my pants. She took in a deep breath and I knew that my world was about to come to a crashing end.



“What the FUCK do you think you were doing?”



I was completely stunned. Mom had never, ever sworn at me before. In the past, she had always made a point to convey any anger with me in civilized, albeit scathing language.



“How could you be so careless and selfish? I told you no, and I meant no! But you wouldn’t listen! You let you penis do your thinking for you and now that gossipmonger Marcia has suspicions about us! You wouldn’t listen to me and you FORCED yourself on me, just because you needed to cum.”



Her voice dripped with contempt, harsh with anger and slightly tremulous with fear, but I could also see tears starting to fill her eyes. The sadness I could see there was infinite, bottomless. I felt like I was going to die of shame. There was an ash taste of despair and loss in my mouth and I was consumed by a wave of nausea and dread.



“I knew it was a mistake to let us cross the line, but I loved and trusted you. I had thought that even though nobody else might understand, what happened between us was our special, loving secret. Now it appears that I am just a kinky way to get your rocks off. Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, buster. I am not a receptacle for you slimy lust. I will NOT be treated with such disrespect and I will NOT allow this to progress one inch farther. I want you to go to your room and stay there. I’m calling a cab to take me to the airport and you will not come down until I’m gone. Now get out.”



There was so much I wanted to say, but all I could do was stare at my feet and mumble “I’m sorry Mom.” That set off a new eruption.



“Sorry doesn’t even come close to cutting it. Do you have even the faintest conception of what could happen if this gets out? I could lose EVERYTHING. All the things I gave up to raise you, the long hours of work at the practice, my law license, it could all be gone just like THAT! She snapped her fingers under my nose. “God knows what my mother and father would have thought of all this. They made tremendous changes in their own lives for ME, delaying their own plans so that I could graduate high school but still be at least a part time Mom to you while you were a baby. They were your day care as I was finishing college and made sure you were safe and loved while I worked my day job and went to law school at night. And now this…all of the sacrifices that have been made on your behalf are next to worthless, because you needed an orgasm. Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because there won’t be another one, ever,” she hissed, disgust and rage mingled in her voice.



I looked up at Mom. Tears were now flowing freely down her face. Her cheeks were red and blotchy and her normally well-coiffed hair was in disarray, partly hanging over her face. Her eyes were puffy and swollen now, bloodshot with her distress. She had tucked her breast back into the bodice of her sundress but still looked beautiful to me. Beyond that initial impression, I was too stunned to think. I simply could not grasp the enormity of my mistake



Quietly, but with steely determination, Mom said, “I meant it, Richard. Go to your room this instant. I need to get cleaned up to leave.”



I stared at her uncomprehendingly, rooted to the spot, unable to process what had just transpired between us. At that point, Mom lost it for real.



Screaming at the top of her lungs, she threw a perfume bottle from her vanity at me.



“Get out you asshole! You son of a bitch, GET OUT!”



She burst into tears and stumbled into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.



Choking back a sob, I fled. My shame and haste to leave was so great I caromed off the doorframe and careened into the hallway, barely able to breath. I felt faint. My vision had reduced to a tunnel and there was roaring in my ears. Somehow, I found my way to my bathroom, where I promptly threw up into the sink, not even making it to the toilet. After I cleaned up I went to my room and crawled under the covers. My self-loathing and fear was beyond description. I felt as though my life had ended. I wept like a baby.



A short while later, I heard Mom get into the shower. In my distress, subjective time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, but it still seemed as though her shower was going on for an inordinately long period of time. I started to worry. Throwing caution to the wind, I crept back to the master bedroom. Mom’s travel clothes were laid out on the bed and her suitcase and carryon bag were by her vanity. It was then that I heard a soft thud. I could see that the bathroom door was open a crack.



With my heart in my mouth, I crept silently to the door on my hands and knees and put my eye up to the opening. I couldn’t see much except a small corner of the floor of the shower. I could see Mom’s calves and feet stretched out. From their position, I thought that she was probably sitting on the floor of the shower, legs out in front of her. It was then I heard a wracking cry, which quickly transformed into a retching sound and then a great burst of anguished sobbing. I saw Mom’s legs and feet shift, her knees drawing up and her upper body gradually coming into view as she curled into a fetal position on the floor the shower, her back to me. My emotional demolition now complete, I shakily got to my feet and staggered back to my room.



The next hour was probably the most difficult thing I have ever endured. I lay on my bed, ears attuned to the slightest sound. I heard Mom come out of her room with her luggage and the bumping of the suitcases as she dragged them down the stairs. I heard her moving around in the kitchen and the sound of the microwave as she reheated her coffee. Things were then quiet for about ten minutes, when I heard the taxi pull into the driveway. There was a sound of closing car doors and then silence.



I felt as though a great weight was pressing me into my bed and I couldn’t muster the energy to get up. Finally, after a long while, I found the strength to go downstairs. I went into the kitchen. The emptiness of the house fairly screamed at me. I could still my dried semen on the floor in front of the sink. The rest of the kitchen had been tidied up, plates and cups rinsed and put in the dishwasher. The coffeepot was unplugged. I cast my gaze over to the breakfast nook. It was then I saw the note on the table.



I slowly moved over to the table and picked up the single sheet of paper. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely read her writing. Mom usually didn’t communicate with me by writing notes, so I was scared to my marrow as I began reading. “If she’s writing me a note, this is beyond horrible,” I thought to myself. Instead of a message of doom though, I read the following: “Richard (Mom NEVER calls me Richard and now she had done so twice today) – Here is a list of chores for you to do while I’m gone. There are a lot of things that need doing, so if you get started today, you should have them finished by Friday, when I get back. Mom



Sitting down absently at the table, I tried to make sense of the past couple of hours and what the note meant in that context. The aftermath of my kitchen imposition (yes, I could now see it as such) was etched into my memory by acid. I could still recall every detail of every minute prior to Mom’s departure. As I leaned back in my chair against the wall of the nook, rubbing my bruised cheek, I kept coming back to one detail of Mom’s tirade. When she mentioned Nana and Gramp’s support of us as Mom finished her schooling, she didn’t say that they would have been ashamed of our intimacy. She only talked about how I had endangered all the effort they put into helping Mom get established so she could support us.



“Could it be that she doesn’t feel guilty about us?” I asked myself. A small glimmer of hope briefly flared in my heart, but I brought myself back to reality quickly enough. Mom was not the kind of person who agonized over mistakes. Perhaps our brief transgressions beyond the normal bounds of a mother and son’s relationship were just so much spilled milk, which she would clean up and deal with as best she could, probably by ignoring it and never mentioning it again. Once again I tasted despair. “Rick,” I thought to myself, “You are the biggest shit in the whole world. You just destroyed the most precious thing in your entire life for 2 minutes of selfish pleasure. What are you going to do now?”



The answer, I thought, was to be like Mom. Get tough and buckle down. What’s done is done and can’t be mended, so move forward as best you can. Be prepared to have to move out after Mom gets back from her trip. Forget about all of it.



I looked at the list of tasks Mom set for me and began planning. Perhaps a small apology could be made by doing an especially good job on the work in front of me. It probably wouldn’t ever repair the damage I did, but it was a beginning.



I threw myself into the work. The pool got its first serious cleaning and maintenance in a couple of years, including repairing the leaking circulating pump and a complete teardown and rebuild of the heater. The backyard privacy fence was stripped and repainted. I applied myself like a demon to the tasks at hand.



Having so much to do during the day was helpful, but the nights were absolute agony. I could barely sleep, and when I did, the montage of images running through my brain would invariably torture me to wakefulness. Our amazing Fourth of July kisses, the first time I felt her breast, feeling her against my aching cock as we danced at the supper club. The slap to my face. The first time I caressed her pussy through her panties. The smell of her sex and its wetness on my fingers. her curled on the floor of the shower, crying. I doubt that I slept more than 3 or 4 hours a night, in spite of my physical exhaustion.



It was Wednesday. Today was the day to take out that badly cracked section of concrete in the driveway and put in a patch. I had the wheelbarrow and cement mix ready to go and sledgehammer and crowbar ready. It was going to be a long, dirty job, but I was determined to do it superbly for Mom. I stripped off my shirt and got down to business. By now, I was totally buzzed on excess coffee, sleep deprivation and physical exhaustion. I was a total basket case. Normally, when Mom traveled on business, we’d talk nearly every night, sharing the trials and tribulations of life on the road and the pain of being away from home. This trip, though, the only thing I heard from her was a one-line text telling me she had landed safely in Vancouver. Since then, nothing. Not another text, no phone call, no nothing.



As I pounded through the monotony of breaking up the damaged concrete, my mind wandered. I remembered the spectacular Fourth of July, our first “date,” recalling the sparkle in Mom’s eyes as she slow danced with me in the club, her acquiescence to my caresses of her lovely bottom as we moved across the floor and the brief but insistent push of her pelvis against my raging erection as we finished our dance. I felt myself beginning to get hard, my cock slightly flexing against the front of my gym shorts.



“Hello – earth to Rick!”



Oh crap, who the…



It was Marcia McCleary. She was standing at the bottom of the driveway, trying to get my attention. I quickly turned slightly so my hardening rod wouldn’t be evident. Marcia was an attractive woman in her own right, but quite different in appearance from my mother. Where Mom was long and tall, Marcia was more petite and compact. She had lustrous brunette hair which she wore in a pageboy haircut. She favored conservative shorts and blouses when I had seen her in the past, which only partially concealed her athletic, trim figure.



Her bust was of average size, but the perpetually horny young male in me knew that the shape of her breasts was probably exquisite. By far and away though, her best feature was her ass. Even the somewhat old-fashioned shorts she wore did little to truly conceal its tightness and compactness. On more than one occasion in the past I had discretely admired her walking away from me, observing the captivating sway of her hips and the up and down oscillation of her cheeks that came with her quick, short stride.

One thing she had in common with Mom was that she was a single parent, also with a son, Shawn, just a couple of years younger than me. As I recalled, she frequently visited him on weekends at his college, which was about 200 miles away.



“Oh, Hi Marcia, is there something I could do for you?”



“There most certainly is, Rick. You seemed off in another world there while you were swinging that sledge. Your concentration was ferocious. I had to call you three times to get your attention.”



“Oh, yeah, well…I guess I was a little lost in thought.”



“Well, don’t think too hard there. You’re likely to hurt yourself with that big hard hammer.”



Shit, had she seen my wood? When she called to me she was a good 20 or 30 feet away, and I had by now subsided a little bit in my shorts, so I was probably okay. Still, the double entendre was hard to ignore. Here I was, dressed only in gym shorts, bare chested and streaming sweat. What was going on?



Casting only the briefest of glances at my crotch, Marcia became serious. “I came by to talk to Jenny – there are a couple of things I need to discuss with her, if she’s available.”



“Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck and DAMN,” I thought to myself. “Here’s where the chickens come home to roost.” I was sure she wanted to confront Mom about the almost-seen events in our kitchen on Sunday. Our secret was going to be exposed for sure now. I had destroyed my mother’s life.



Somehow, through a miracle, I was able to compose my features and keep my voice steady. “Gee, Marcia, I’m sorry, but Mom is traveling on business this week. She went out to the west coast on Sunday, just a little while after you came by.”



“That’s too bad, I really wanted to have a chat,” she said, real disappointment in her voice.



“She’ll be back in about a week or so,” I volunteered. “You might try giving her a call in the middle of next week.” I knew there was no way that Mom would want to talk with Marcia right after arriving home Friday evening, and that we had to have our own conversation first, if for no other reason than me telling Mom that Marcia was probably going to lower the boom on her. I hoped that a few days to ourselves would allow us to do some planning for the impending catastrophe.



“Can you let her know I’d really like to see her, once she’s back? It’s not a big deal, really, it’s just that I’ve come to understand recently that we share some common interests. I just want to talk about those things, once she’s got some time,” she said sincerely.



The skepticism I felt about her motives must have been evident on my face, because she smiled reassuringly and patted my arm. “Relax, Rick. It’s just a social call. Something I’ve been meaning to do for a few days, that’s all.”



“I’ll let her know,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice neutral and expression blank.



Marcia cast what seemed to be a rather frank and appraising eye over me as I leaned on the sledgehammer. “I’ve been watching you work on the house for the past couple of days. You have been going about things like a man possessed. You really ought to slow down and pace yourself a bit,” she said with real concern. “You don’t want to be a wreck when your mom gets back.”



“Thanks, Marcia. I’ll try to bear it in mind. It’s just that there is a lot to do and I want to get it done right for Mom.”



I don’t know what possessed me to keep on talking, but there was something about Marcia’s interest in my well being that somehow felt genuine.



“I’m a bit in Mom’s doghouse right now,” I confessed. “This is my way of trying to get back into her good graces. We had a bad argument, you see.”



Marcia’s eyes widened briefly in surprise and then narrowed. She seemed to stare off into space, struggling with something. Finally she nodded once, as if to herself, coming to some kind of decision.



“Rick, back when Shawn was still in high school, we once had a serious falling out. It was bad enough that it could have affected us for a long, long time. In the end though, we were able to deal with the problem, mostly because we were totally honest with one another. Shawn had done something that made me very angry, but we worked it out eventually and in the end, we became much closer.”



“I guess what I’m saying is not to worry too much. As long as you are honest with your mom, I sure you’ll be able to put whatever your misunderstanding is behind you.”



“I think you’ll find that moms have a great capacity for forgiveness, Rick,” she said with a wry chuckle. “They have to develop it, especially if they are raising a son.”



She gave me a quick glance and began to walk back down the driveway. My heart was beating like a locomotive, and not from the exertion, as I turned over what she had just said in my head. She turned and looked back at me once as she walked away. “You’re all the son any mother could ask for, working so hard,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Jennifer is truly lucky to have you.”



My mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara and my tongue seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth. “Thanks, ” I finally croaked.



My mind was in absolute turmoil. I had the distinct feeling that Marcia absolutely knew that something was going on with Mom, and me, but at the same time, there seemed to be a restraint about her that hinted at the possibility of something less than an upcoming revelation of disaster. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I had a gut feeling that somehow, things might not turn out as badly as I feared. Some of the things she had said lead me to think that there might not be anything to worry about at all, but in any event, I knew that I shouldn’t take one single thing for granted about my current situation, so I put my small glimmer of hope back into a black box and locked it away from further examination.



It was late afternoon now, and I was sitting in the driveway, watching my concrete patch slowly dry. The afternoon light was ridiculously and mockingly beautiful. Golden light and shadows from the maple trees lining the driveway dappled the ground. I found myself desperately longing to share the waning light with Mom, sitting on the back porch as we had done many times in the past. On impulse, I picked up a twig lying next to me and scooted over to the patch. In bold strokes, I carefully scratched into the still-damp cement “R L J” and the date. For some reason, this gave me a small measure of comfort. I sighed, stood up and dusted myself off.



As I was stepping up onto the front porch, a delivery truck pulled into the driveway. I quickly ran back down the driveway to pull him up short, protecting my repair job. The driver got out of the truck and approached me.



“Express letter for Richard Lindermann,” he said briskly.



“That would be me,” I replied.



“Please sign.”



I examined the letter with frank curiosity. I was not expecting any communications from anyone, so I had no idea what to expect. There was no name on the sender, only a Vancouver address.



“Vancouver!” I thought. “Holy crow – is this from Mom?”



I tore it open on the spot with a perfunctory thank you. A single sheet of hotel stationary was enclosed. I recognized Mom’s writing immediately. As I read, my heart jumped into my throat.



Richard –



I am still sorting out how I feel about the events of Sunday. I am finding it difficult to do my work here because of worry about what Marcia McCleary may or may not have seen between us. Right now, I’m very conflicted about everything that’s happened since July 4th. As wonderful as some things have been, what happened on Sunday simply can’t be ignored. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do at this point, but things don’t seem the same now between us. I’m not sure that I can trust you anymore. We’ll talk after I get back, but I have to be honest and tell you right now that I’m very disappointed with the turn our relationship has taken. I’ll give you the credit that you are probably sorry about what happened, but there are times when that’s simply not enough. I’m trying very hard to be objective, but right now I’m not sure I can see a way to fix things between us.



Mom



P.S. Don’t bother about picking me up at the airport; I’ll be getting a cab home.



The slight glimmer of hope I felt after talking with Marcia still dimly flickered, but this letter was a body blow. “I’m not sure that I can trust you anymore “. Jesus, it looked as though Mom was going to totally and completely cut me out of her life. I shambled through the front door and into the foyer, slumping down against the wall. I don’t know how long I sat there, but when I finally roused myself it was full dark. Looking across the entryway into the living room, I could see the vase of roses I had gotten for Mom that preceding Friday. The drooping stems and scattered, shriveled petals of the dying flowers mocked me cruelly. Shuffling into the kitchen, I had some sardines and crackers and then went up to bed, anticipating another sleepless night. I don’t know how I managed it, but somehow I got around 7 hours of dreamless sleep.



Thursday and Friday were sheer agony. I managed to finish the task list to my satisfaction around 4 pm on Friday and went in to take a shower, my first in 5 days. As I stood under the running water, I glanced at my flaccid cock. Other than my morning piss hardons and the brief event in the driveway with Marcia McCleary, I had not had one waking erection since Mom had left. Quite a change for a guy who had fantasized about his Mom three or four times a day for the past 7 or 8 years. I stepped out onto the bath mat, dressed and went down to the kitchen. I still had not cleaned up the cum from in front of the kitchen sink. I had, I think, purposefully left it there to remind and punish myself about the follies of thinking with the little head. I still felt no need to clean it up.



I decided that the least I could do for Mom was to fix some dinner for her. I still had no appetite, but I wanted to welcome her home properly, regardless of what was in store for me. I set about making one of her favorites, linguine with Puttanesca sauce, taking care to execute everything perfectly. I set a bottle of Barolo on the kitchen table and opened it to breathe.



As I was finishing setting the table, I heard the cab pull up. I quickly went to the front door to turn on the outside lights. Mom got out of the back seat, dressed in her usual business attire of a plain, but form fitting black skirt with side buttons, a plain white blouse and short jacket. She looked haggard, but still beautiful to me. The cabbie quickly handed out her luggage and she began hauling it back to the house. Her path took her over my patch in the driveway and she seemed to pause briefly, inspecting the work. She appeared to nod once to herself, as she looked, my handiwork apparently passing muster for her. Sensing the need for restraint, I opened the door for her and took her luggage in hand. A brief peck on the cheek and I welcomed her home.



When I closed the door behind us, Mom simply stood there, staring at me. Her gaze was neutral, but I sensed that she was trying to decide if she was going say anything. I couldn’t bear her silence. It cut more deeply and hurt more sharply than any tirade or explosion could possibly do.



“Mom,” I began, stuttering in my nervousness, “I guess we should talk. Is that okay?”



Shaking her head slightly, her eyes continuing to bore into me. I thought I saw a strange mix of sadness, residual anger and even uncertainty in her expression.



“I have nothing I want to say to you right now, Richard,” she said tiredly.



“But can I say something?” I pleaded. Mom appeared to take in a breath, ready to shut me down, but I plunged on, ignoring her attempt to stop me.



“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I said miserably. “I don’t have the words, I feel so bad about what happened. It’ just…it’s just that I wanted to…wanted you…”



“All right, I’ll get right to the point, Richard,” she said resignedly, cutting me off. Clearly, she didn’t want to hear any apologies or explanations.



“I’m tired. I am emotionally exhausted. I am NOT prepared to discuss anything with you tonight or this weekend. I wish to be left alone until Monday. I’ve already called the office to take the day off, so we’ll have enough time to sort things out between us.



Her hard demeanor softened briefly and she gently touched her finger to my bruised cheek. “There are many things I am very sorry about right now,” she began, “Not the least of which was the way I slapped you on Sunday. Whatever else happens, I hope you can forgive me that. I was as angry with you as I have ever been in my life.”



I had a lump in my throat the size of a boulder. “It’s okay Mom, I got no more than I deserved. What I did…it was so selfish, I can’t believe I did it…it was like I was a different person, an animal. It was a horrible thing to do. I’m so sorry, so sorry, Mom,” I whispered, eyes wet with shame.



“I’m still very sorry I hit you. Of all the things that happened on Sunday, that was probably the least forgivable. I’ll never do that again, as long as I live.”



“That’s done and in the past as far as I’m concerned, Mom. Uhh, but there is something I have to tell you. Marcia was by on Wednesday. She wanted to talk.”



She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I suppose that was to be expected. What did you say to her?”



“I told her that you might be back in the middle of next week and could talk then.”



“I’m glad you bought me a little time.” I hope I’ll be able to do some damage control in the meanwhile.”



“I made you some dinner,” I blurted awkwardly. “I thought you might be hungry after the flight.”



A small, but genuine smile flashed on her lips. “That was very considerate of you. I could use some of your cooking after the past week. Be a dear and run upstairs to draw me a bath. I want to eat quickly and have a nice long soak.”



I smiled and nearly ran upstairs. I carefully started filling her tub and put in some of her favorite bath oil. Scouting quickly around her bedroom, I found a single candle and lit it, placing it next to the tub. I double-checked the water temperature, making sure it was perfect.



As I headed back downstairs, I heard voices in the kitchen. Shit! It was Marcia. She must have been laying in wait, just itching to get her hooks into Mom. Their voices were low and I could not make out what was being said. I slowly started down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. I felt as though I was heading for my own execution. They must have heard me coming down because the conversation paused. I heard Marcia’s voice.



“Please come into the kitchen, Rick.”



As I stepped though the door, the tension in the room was obvious. Marcia was leaning up against the refrigerator, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Mom was seated in the breakfast nook, her hand clutching a glass of the Barolo so hard I thought it might burst.



Marcia spoke again, looking directly at me, smiling reassuringly.



“We have some serious things to discuss, so I hope you’ll give Jenny and me a bit of privacy for a few more minutes. Please don’t interrupt us. Now be a dear and go upstairs for a little while.”



I nodded mutely and went to sit at the top of the stairs, in an agony of suspense. The low tones of their conversation resumed for about 3 or 4 minutes. Suddenly, I heard the sound of breaking glass. I sprinted downstairs and slid into the doorway. Mom had dropped her wineglass, shattering it on the tile floor. She was mopping up the wine and glass shards, her face averted from Marcia. She was pale and visibly shaking. My first thought was that Marcia had revealed herself to Mom and that she knew our secret, but she glanced up at me briefly, mouthing silently, “Don’t worry.” She helped Mom finish cleaning up and briskly stood, appearing to squeeze Mom’s shoulder comfortingly as she got to her feet.



I was totally unprepared for what happened next. It remains to this day the single greatest and most dramatic surprise of my entire life. Marcia looked at me and crossed the room. She took both my hands in hers and said warmly and gently, “Your secret is completely safe with me. I hope you two can work things out. I’d like to think you both could be as happy together as Shawn and I are.” She pecked me on my cheek and then left quickly, quietly shutting the front door behind her.



By now, Mom had resumed her position in the kitchen nook. She was still trembling, looking as though she were about to faint.



I started towards her, but she immediately thrust her arm at me, palm outward. “No, Rick! Just come and sit down. We’re obviously going to have to talk now.” She took a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling, seeming to marshal her thoughts. She then turned to me, pain and confusion written on her face.



“I don’t know what to do, Rick,” she said miserably. “I’m so relieved and surprised about Marcia that I feel like I’m going to faint. But, I think…I think I’m going to need some time and space to figure this all out. Right now, I just don’t know if I can go forward. I just don’t know if we can work this out,” she sighed heavily.



I nodded dumbly.



Her face softened and a small smile formed on her lips. I thought I detected the faint sparkle in her eyes that I loved so much.



“I will always love you as my son,” she said softly. “I forgive you for what happened on Sunday. I am at fault much more than you are for letting things progress to that point. It was always in my power to stop things, had I chosen to do so. I let my own loneliness and your attentiveness get the better of me.”



She took in a deep breath and continued. “I hope that we will be able to get back at least a little of what we had before July 4th, over time. I don’t want you gone from my life and I hope you can accept this, because I think this is what I…I…I have to…must do… right now.” Her face was hard to read as she spoke. Her expression was tight and resolute, as though she was mustering all her internal strength to speak. At the same time, I could see real sadness in her eyes and almost an apologetic tone in her words.



She stood abruptly and strode past me. As she passed, she looked over her shoulder and gave me a ghost of a smile, something I never hoped for, and said “I’m going to get my bath and go to bed now. Tomorrow is a new day and a new beginning for us. I’ll see you in the morning.”



I slowly followed behind her. I didn’t even look at her ass as she climbed the stairs in front of me, even though I could have seen her panties completely.



***




There was no sleep for me that night. I was wracked by an overwhelming sense of loss and grief, unlike anything I had ever felt in my life, even surpassing when Gramps and Nana had died. I felt as though the future now held nothing for me, just endless struggle and dull, gray decades, stretching ahead to a lonely grave. Around four in the morning, I gave up and went down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. I slowly crawled into a somewhat alert state of buzzed exhaustion and contemplated my choices with a feeling of absolute desolation.



Mom was still clearly conflicted, unable to come to terms with where we seemed to be headed. It looked to me as though “right and proper” was going to carry the day against love and desire in Mom’s mind and I finally had to admit to myself that all my hopes and dreams were just that; fantasies that would never be allowed to come to fruition.



I now knew I couldn’t stay in the house another hour. I still loved Mom and I knew my departure would hurt her a lot, but I almost took a perverse satisfaction in that, selfishly wanting her to feel the same pain of loss and rejection, which was weighing on my soul at that time. After all that had happened between us in the past months, I didn’t feel I could wait any longer. I needed to get away, simply to preserve my sanity.

I went upstairs and quietly packed an overnight bag, returning to the kitchen. I had a friend in Staten Island I knew I could crash with for a few days while I figured out my own living arrangements. I sent him an email, asking him to call me when he got up that morning. I knew I wouldn’t have to wait too long, as he had to open up the cafe he worked at in just an hour or two.



I then sat down to write a note to Mom, explaining how I had to get out of the house now, for my own good, and before anything else happened that might drive us further apart. After what happened that past Sunday, I wasn’t sure I could control myself around her any more.



Writing that letter proved to be enormously difficult and took far, far longer than I thought. In my twisted state of mourning and anger, I found the words just wouldn’t come. It was that writer’s block that saved me.



I was still slumped in my chair, back to the kitchen doorway, surrounded by a flock of crumpled, discarded drafts of my goodbye letter. At the point of complete despair, I thought about simply picking up my bag and walking out the door when I heard something behind me.



“Ricky…what are you doing up at this hour? What’s the matter?”



Hearing her voice, I started and cringed inwardly. Having finally, painfully worked up the nerve to move on, I wasn’t prepared for another cycle of indecision, postponements or excuses. If I was going to make a break, I didn’t want my last memory to be seeing my beautiful mother at the banks of my personal Rubicon. If I was going to get her out of my head, I couldn’t afford that final recollection.



As Mom took in the tableau of my discarded letters and the bag by the door, she gasped audibly, gripping the doorframe for support.



“Oh God, Ricky! No! Please don’t do this! Please, God, don’t leave me like this,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.



I slowly stood and faced her, somehow finding the strength to speak the words I had been dreading for so long.



“I have to go, Mom. I can’t stay with you anymore. I love you too much, and in too many ways you can’t return. If I stay, I’ll lose my mind. I have to move on,” I said miserably.



“Baby, please, think it over, give us some time. We’ll figure things out.”



I flushed with anger and for the first time I could remember in years, I actually yelled at Mom, slapping my hand on the kitchen counter.



“There’s nothing to think over!” I exploded. “I know that things will never be the way I want them to be for you and me! There’s no point in torturing ourselves when all that’s left between us is what I can’t have and what you can’t seem to give, Mom!”



As I spewed out my years of pent up frustrations, Mom quailed from me as though she had suffered a physical blow. She actually slipped and fell onto her ass with a tooth-jarring thump, eyes wide in shock and pain, tears flowing freely.



My fury was immediately quenched when I saw her stumble. In spite of my anger, I found myself at her side before I could even think. I took her in my arms, hugging her as tight as I could, sobbing myself.



“I’m sorry, Mom! I’m so sorry! I can’t help the way I feel about you! I promised you I’d never do anything to hurt you and look what happened! I’ll always love you, but I can’t do this any more! I just can’t!”



As my entire world burned to the ground inside, somehow, I found a reserve of cold strength within and hauled her up to her feet. Placing my arms around her, I spoke one last time.



“Mom, as your son, I’m not ever going to stop loving you, but tomorrow, next week and next year, just remember you would have always had that, but could have had this too!”



I bent to her face and crushed her in my embrace, giving her the hardest, most ferocious and passionate kiss I could muster. She stood stiffly against me, not really responding, but not resisting either. Slowly, her lips softened ever so slightly and gradually her hands came up haltingly to rest lightly and tentatively on my waist.



“This is the last time I’m ever going to hold you, Mom,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry for everything, more than you’ll ever know, but it’s time. Time to go.”



Without another word, I broke our embrace and turned away, walking to the door to fetch my bag. Deliberately not looking back, I spoke quietly as I made my way to the back door, my own cheeks wet with tears, “I love you, Jenny Marie, mother.”



As I arrived at the doorway, I reached up to the light switch on the wall. The snap of the toggle seemed as loud as a gunshot, one that pierced my heart with a wound I felt sure would never heal. I left Mom standing alone in the dark, quietly weeping, as I silently closed the door behind me and began walking towards the street.



I got about halfway to the sidewalk and my legs betrayed me. My next step faltered, the one after that completely failed to materialize and then I found myself rooted in place, staring blankly at the gray, featureless, overcast sky above my head, beached in the middle of the driveway.



Having come this far, so close to cutting things off, my rational self railed and cursed at my emotions, which kept me in place like a perverse anchor. Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to take that next step towards the street. I heard a small voice in the back of my mind, which sounded curiously like Mom’s. It was saying, “The heart wants what it wants, Ricky. You may as well try to hold back the tide or stop an earthquake, because these things don’t change.”



In agony, I asked back to myself, “But if you simply cannot have your heart’s desire, if it is impossible, then what?”



My legs weakened and I gradually collapsed down onto my haunches, ending up sitting Indian style on the ground, staring blankly in front of me. I was an empty shell, all of my conflicting desires, objective thoughts, longings and dreams cancelling each other into a paralytic gray numbness. I had no will, no plan, no objective, no hope, no future and I didn’t care anymore.



I have no idea how long I sat hunched on the cool, dew-dampened cement, but after a long while, I could sense the first light of morning in the eastern sky. I found I could barely move, both of my legs having fallen asleep where I had run aground.



Then it was my turn to be pulled to my feet. Mom stood behind me, hooked her arms underneath mine and heaved me up. She put her arm around my waist and led me back into the kitchen on unsteady, numbed legs. Not a word was spoken between us.



I found myself propelled into the breakfast nook and sat heavily in one of the chairs. Tingling painfully, my legs still refused to work properly and I had to move them with my hands into some semblance of a comfortable position. Mom went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of orange juice. She set one in front of me and sat down on the opposite side of the table, quietly regarding me over the rim of her own glass, taking slow, measured sips of her drink. The silence between us was a living, palpable entity; coiled like a serpent, ready to strike in some unexpected direction at any moment. We sat for some minutes, staring at each other as the suspense between us built, a simmering steam boiler with no relief valve.



We would occasionally make brief eye contact, each of us looking for a response from the other, then quickly glancing away, unable or unwilling to start a conversation.



When Mom finally spoke, the tension shattered like a plate glass window and I visibly jumped in my seat.



“I simply can’t let you go like this Ricky. I know how much you’re hurting inside, because I feel the same thing,” she began, tentatively.



“If you feel the way I do, then why do you fight it so hard, Mom?” I asked resignedly. “I can see how it’s tearing you up inside. We really, truly love each other. How can that be bad?” I shot back, pain in every word.



“I’m your mother, for God’s sake!” she cried out in frustration. “I’m not supposed to, not allowed, CAN’T have these feelings about my own son, goddammit!”



“Yet, you do. I know it, you know it and there’s no sense in pretending otherwise, because that’s all bullshit,” I countered.



“You’re still my own flesh and blood!” she said, voice cracking in despair.



“So what?” I shot back. “All I know is that you’re the most beautiful, intelligent and loving woman I’ve ever known. There’s no one in the entire world who could possibly mean as much to me as you do.”



“Get this through your head, lady,” I continued in exasperation, “I can’t change how I feel. It doesn’t matter if I turn around and leave, never seeing you again.



“I – will – always – love – you,” I said, spitting out each word like a heavy stone. ” I can’t help myself. And I don’t care what anyone thinks. Nobody, nobody in the world has any right to tell two adults who love each other how to live their lives.”



“All I can say is, I love you and want to be with you in all possible ways. I want to be your friend, your son, your man, your everything, Mom. Without those things, my life has no meaning. It’s my fate, what I was created to do,” I said with absolute certainty.



As a closing argument, I added, “You can’t fool me, Mom. I know you feel the same things. And don’t try and tell me that the idea of making love with your son doesn’t get you all wet.”



“Ricky! My God, how can you talk like that?” she spluttered shakily, a mortified flush rising rapidly on her cheeks.



“Because it’s the truth, Mom! We’ve been dancing around the edges of this for so long, it’s time to be totally honest. You can’t possibly expect that we can go back to where things were, or just leave them as they are right now. You can’t carve up our relationship up, break it down, control it or parse it like some legal document.”



I got up and sat next to her, taking her hand in mine. I kissed her sweetly on her cheek and cupped her chin, turning her head to look her in the eyes.



“You know I worship the ground you walk on, Mom,” I said softly, gently. “You also know I’d cut my throat before I’d truly do anything to hurt you.”



Pausing, I gulped a huge breath of air, heart pounding painfully. “I need to know, Mom. Now. Not ‘in a little while,’ not next week or tomorrow, or in an hour. Will you be my lover, mother?”



She brought her hand to my cheek and gently ran her finger over the bruise from last week and sighed heavily.



“Ricky, what happened with Marcia, nearly being discovered, it terrified me. I thought I knew what I needed to do when I got off the plane last night. It was my last chance to try and tame this…this thing between us that was threatening to drive me insane with desire and guilt. I wanted you so very much, but I was so afraid, even as things were changing between us. The feelings were so intense, I felt that if I fully gave in, simply let things happen, it would all spin wildly out of control and it would just burn us up, completely consume and destroy us. It was so strong, so powerful, and so scary that I couldn’t handle the emotions. I was afraid that if I gave in, surrendered to my desires, that I would lose myself forever, drowning in love and lust,” she exhaled mournfully, her voice trailing to a whisper.



“Nothing would then matter except my need to fuck you,” she confessed, voice hoarse with shame. “I thought that once I let you have me, I would lose control of everything in my life, and you already know how much I need to be in control of things,” she confessed with a sad sigh. “That’s why I tried to make it all go so slowly, why I only let you do…those things… with me on my terms. It was selfish and unfair of me to string you along like that.”



“And then, after Marcia came by…you can’t imagine what that felt like. I was completely torn in two. I thought I should go mad with the conflict I was feeling. I thought we still had to do what was right and proper, but I think…I think… I think deep down, my heart was beginning to sing. I was not honest with myself up to that point. I just didn’t want to acknowledge my deepest, darkest longings – that I desired you, Ricky. I needed you, of all the men in the world, I wanted you. I was in love with my own boy and wanted to make love to him, never stopping, never wanting anyone or anything else.”



As I heard these words, my heart soared and my throat tightened. I felt as though I had died and was only just now resurrected. At that moment, my love for Mom burned as strongly and deeply as anything I had experienced in my entire life. My emotions were so overwhelming I could hardly speak.



“I’ll always love you, Mom. There’s never been anyone else for me. I couldn’t possibly live without you,” I whispered.



I watched what seemed to be a tremendous flight of emotions across my mother’s face – relief, pleasure, happiness and finally a kind of exaltation. She had never looked so desirable to me. I began to feel that familiar stirring and tightening in my loins and my breath caught in my throat.



“I owe you an apology, my love. I should have had the courage of my convictions,” she said, her voice strengthening and a small smile appearing.



“I should have listened to my heart and recognized the truth in yours, how much, how deeply my son loves me,” she declared, her eyes glistening.



She leaned over to me and took my face in her hands, giving me a long, tender kiss. Moaning inarticulately, I leaned into her, arms coming around her shoulders as I tried to devour her mouth with mine. Groaning, she pressed herself into me, tongue insistently seeking mine as we desperately pressed against each other, as if to try and merge our bodies and souls together through our kiss.



We continued kissing for many minutes, reclaiming each other, touching, reassuring, wiping away mutual tears. Comfort and simple, overwhelming closeness slowly changed into pleasure as our tongues danced, clashed and twined. Pleasure gradually melted into passion and suddenly, I found my hands on Mom’s breasts, lightly rubbing her nipples through the fabric of her nightgown. She arched her back then, thrusting then to meet my tweaking fingertips.



Mom dropped her hand to my thigh, lightly rubbing and questing, slowly trailing her fingers over my surging cock, lightly tugging and grasping. I groaned again as she squeezed me gently.



Breaking our kiss, she sat back and regarded me tenderly, her eyes dancing.



“It looks like you’re ready to properly welcome your mother home now.”



Mom leaned back towards me, her lips slightly parted, smiling gently. In a husky voice, she said, “My boy gives me such sweet kisses. May I have another, please?”



She brought her hand behind my neck and tenderly drew me to her. The touch was gentle, sensuous and unbearable. Her lips seemed to lightly dance on mine, her tongue lightly probing, retreating and teasing as it sought mine. It was so exquisite that I couldn’t stand it. It was all I could do to respond in kind, being as gentle as I could be.



Again, I felt her hand on my thigh, tantalizingly close to my throbbing member, lightly scratching the inside of my thigh with her nails. I felt her hand scrabble over my fly, questing for the zipper and button at the front of my pants. Releasing me from denim captivity, her hand snaked under the waistband of my boxers, seeking my growing steel. I was as hard as I’d ever been in my life.



As she truly touched me for the first time, skin on skin, her fingers delicately explored my length, pulling me towards her. Abruptly, her lips then crushed down on mine, her tongue thrusting to meet mine as she quickly and fully grasped my cock. Her touch was like an electric shock. I immediately began squirting all over her loving fingers, feeling huge contractions and uncontrollable twitching. I must have shot at least a half dozen huge ropes of hot, sticky cum into her warm, waiting palm, painting her fingers with a thick film of my sticky, white goo. The results of my 5 days of abstinence produced perhaps the biggest cum of my life, completely soaking my drawers and covering her hand.



“Ah! Ahhh! Mom, oh God!!” I moaned.



Pulling her hand out from my underwear, Mom regarded her slickened fingers with a smile. “I think my son is glad to see me,” she said with a wry chuckle.



“God, Mom, I’m so sorry!” I groaned, embarrassed at my loss of control.



“Don’t be silly, darling,” she scolded affectionately. “You never need to apologize for something like that – it’s a huge compliment, you silly boy. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be raring to go again very soon.”



“Thanks,” I whispered, as she kissed my lightly, but thoroughly.



She then did something so mind-blowing, I began to harden again immediately. She firmly jerked my jeans down over my hips and lowered her face to my crotch and began sucking my spend through the thin materials of my boxers, taking exquisite care to directly avoid putting her mouth on my cock. She slowly and thoroughly sucked all the cum out of my pants, noisily slurping my sperm and making small, mewling sounds of satisfaction deep in her throat.



When she finished, she looked up from my lap, smiling contentedly. “Wow. That was amazing, sweetheart. I’ve never seen so much sperm in my life.”



“Only for you, Mom, only for you,” I gasped, still panting from my release.



“You’re my sweet talking boy, aren’t you?”



I sighed with pleasure, reaching down to touch her cheek. “Mom, I just love you so much. You turn me on so much, sometimes I think you can make me come just by looking at me sideways.”



“Mmmm. All that lovely man juice, just for moi?” she teased



“Should I say you bring out the best in me?”



Mom gave a quick snort of laughter, pulling the waistband of my shorts down below my balls, exposing my gooey, semi-hard state. Wiping the last remains of semen from my cock with her hand, she examined her fingers briefly, with almost clinical detachment and then smiled widely, licking them clean with lip-smacking relish. She then bent down and gave my glans a quick, popping suck and then kissed my tip, pulling my underwear back into place.



“Let’s go upstairs and get comfortable, Ricky,” she said decisively. “It’s time to be what we were meant to be to each other.”



She got up from the table, stretching slowly and sinuously. Shrugging her robe off, she revealed a floor length, semi-opaque, pale yellow nightdress. It had a shallow, broadly scooped V-neck which slightly exposed the tops of her breasts, short puffy sleeves and a small ribbon which tied the front of the gown together. I could see the slight outline of her hard nipples under the fabric as her unrestrained breasts wobbled slightly with her movement. The remainder of the gown was just diaphanous enough to hint at the forest of curly, ginger hair at the juncture of her thighs.



Taking my hand, she drew me out of my chair, giggling as I nearly toppled, my jeans still caught around my knees. She helped me step out of them, steadying my shoulders as I pulled each leg free.



Once I was liberated, she quickly reached to the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down to the floor. Smiling gently, she grasped my resurgent cock in her hand and led me forward and upstairs to my destiny.



***




Clambering on to her bed, she gave me an absolutely smoldering look. Reaching her arms out, she said tenderly “Come up here next to me, you bad boy.”



I hesitantly crawled up next to her. I could hardly believe my good fortune. She gently took my hand, placing it on her left breast as she pulled my head to its companion. I slowly ran my fingers around the outside of the outline of her nipple, gently flicking it with my fingertip as I explored the springy contours around it. I began to lightly lick her other nipple through the material of the gown. She arched her back to meet my mouth when I locked my lips on her nipple. Moaning, she said “Oh, so nice, Ricky. Please do the other one! That’s my baby. Just like when you were little. You loved chewing on me so much.”

As I switched my attention to her other breast, I let my right hand stray over her abdomen, lightly touching and caressing wherever I traveled. Tentatively, I gradually moved below her waist, with an even lighter touch. As I moved lower, I could feel the subtle change in texture as I moved over her mons, caused by her luxuriant, slightly wiry pubic hair. Her moaning increased.



“Yessssss, ooohhhh, pleeeaaassssse….”



Gingerly skirting where I thought her clit was, I moved to the sides of her sex, lightly touching and stroking her nether lips. The material over her pussy was absolutely soaked and her intoxicating musk permeated the whole room.



“More there, yes, love, more” she breathed.



I continued to lightly flick her nipple through the material of the gown, now wet and nearly transparent with my saliva. I gradually let the fingers of my right hand find their way to the opening of her vagina, always lightly dancing and probing. She arched her pelvis up to meet my hand. I gradually pushed on the gown, slowly indenting the material over her delta of Venus until I was able to push into her opening an inch or two, gradually increasing the strength of my penetrations and their frequency.



By now, Mom was vigorously thrusting to meet my hand, my palm making a wet, slapping sound as it came in contact with her pussy and the maximal depth of my caresses. She was moaning almost continuously now, barely coherent. Slowly, with great care, I drew up the front of her gown above her waist, gradually sliding my hand from her knee to the junction of her magnificent thighs, caressing slowly as I went.



I cupped her mound, gently pressing and rubbing, slowly drawing my middle finger up her slit, from perineum to her little nub. She shuddered and thrust herself up against my hand. I slowly inserted a finger into her opening, gradually pushing it in as far as I could, then adding a second finger. So tight, so wet, so unbelievably hot, she was.



“Ooohhhh my god Ricky, it feels soooo goood. Do me some more.”



Those words absolutely set me off. I redoubled the stimulation of her breast and greatly increased the thrusting of my fingers, pushing as hard as I could. Mom was panting like a long distance runner near the finish line now, barely able to speak. She was moving her pelvis as quickly as she could against my hand, trying to gain maximal stimulation from my digits. She was close now, and I wanted to make sure that she had the best orgasm of her life on my fingers. I removed my other hand from her breast and began to rub over her mound. Her lips were red and swollen, saturated with beads of her dew. Her clit stood at proud attention, peeking from beneath its hood. I took it in my fingers and began to gently squeeze and rub it.



Mom suddenly arched her back, thighs clamping viciously around my hand, her pelvis thrusting upward. A keening moan tore from her throat.



“Oh god! Oh god! My god, Ricky, mygod mygod omigod omigod omigod I’m cumming, I’m cumming, baby, cumming! She continued for nearly a whole minute. I could barely keep my hands on her sex, she was writhing so much. Finally, she collapsed utterly and completely, breathing rapidly with her eyes tightly closed, eyelids fluttering.



God, that felt so good! I gave my mother an amazing climax, just with my hands. I felt 10 feet tall and invincible. There could be no better feeling on the earth than pleasing my Mom that way! I moved up next to her on the bed, cradling her head and neck on my chest. I was filled with tenderness as I stroked her hair and cheeks. “I love you so much, Mom. I love to make you feel good.”



She gradually returned to the present, snuggling against me, hands tracing lightly on my chest, teasing my nipples. The sensation was driving me to delirium.



“My god, Ricky. What did you do to me? I can’t remember the last time I came like that. I’m shaking like a leaf!”



“Just being the dutiful son,” I joked lightly.



“I’m appalled at how hard I made you work while I was gone,” she chastised herself. “I’m surprised that you have the strength to lift one finger, let alone do what you just did to me.”



I lowered my voice and spoke very softly and seriously. “Mom, everything I did while you were gone, from the pool, to the fence, to the driveway and now to this bed I did because I love you. The reason it’s so good with us is because it’s real love. We only care about pleasing each other. You’re my angel and I’ll never put myself ahead of you again.”



She lifted her head from my chest and looked into my eyes intently. My heart soared as I regarded her face. For nearly a full minute she said nothing, just holding my gaze in hers. Finally she spoke. “I love you too, son. I should have realized how much the past few weeks before my trip had affected you. You don’t have to apologize again, ever, for last Sunday. That’s in the past, dear heart. You and I are only going to look forward now.”



She leaned forward and kissed me softly, thoroughly and intensely. I was happy to give back as good as I got. As we came up for air, she took my hands in hers, enveloping me in a tender gaze. “Things are really, truly different now, aren’t they?” she asked.



I nodded my head, not able to speak.



“All of the things which happened before last Sunday altered our relationship to something new, but now it’s truly changed for good. We’re really lovers now, Ricky.” Even though we haven’t, you know, uhhh, actually had sex, we’re lovers nonetheless.” She blushed sweetly as she said this.



Speaking more quietly, she stroked my cheek apologetically and added softly, “I should have remembered that last Sunday. Even though what you did to me was wrong and selfish, I tried to discipline you like a parent of a child, when I should have worked it out with you, a misunderstanding between two adults, woman to young man, lover to lover.”



I hugged her, burying my face in her neck. “It’s okay, Mom. Like you said, it’s done and over now, so we should concentrate on the future. I think things are going to be wonderful for us, but it’s going to be complicated from time to time. What makes us special could also get in our way sometimes. I think that happened on Sunday. When I think how close I came to losing you…” my voice broke.



“But you didn’t, son. It was a near thing because we both made mistakes, but I don’t think that will happen again. We’ll fight, like all couples inevitably do, but I think we learned some important lessons already.”



Smiling and running her fingers through my hair, Mom said, “First and foremost, we’ll always be honest, always talk through our misunderstandings. Second, we have to be more, uhm, cautious in the future.” Kissing me affectionately, she added, “What we have now is far, far too precious to endanger in any way. It cost us both a lot to get here, darling. Now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you to carelessness.”



“I’d rather die than upset you or hurt you again, Mom,” I said, choking up a little. “You’re right – it is precious. I’ll do whatever I must to protect it.”



“What I also know is that I’m very, very lucky,” I added. “I won’t ever forget that. You’ve already made me so happy, Mom, and I love you so much. If I get brained by a meteor tomorrow, I’ll go with a smile on my face.”



Mom giggled at my imagery, but then became more somber. “Ricky, you know you’re my man now, don’t you?”



“Yeah, Mom, I do” I acknowledged, sensing the seriousness which was beneath her statement. “And you’re my woman, truly.”



“I feel a little guilty saying this right now, but I want to be totally honest and open from now on.” Taking a deep breath, Mom continued, “I don’t think we should make love just yet. I know it’s not very romantic and maybe I’m trying to be too organized and controlling again, but there are real practical issues here, and I very, very much want everything to be right for our first time together. There are some things I need to attend to as a woman – I want to see my doctor this week and get some things checked, if that’s okay with you.”



I took her hand and kissed it, looking into her eyes. “I suppose a couple more days won’t kill me, after waiting for eight years. Knowing you want it too will hold me until then, I suppose. Are you going to talk about, uhm, the Pill? You know, it’s fine if you don’t want to do that, Mom. I’ll use a condom, I’m okay with that.”



“That’s very sweet of you, darling – thank you for understanding, and the offer, too. I promise you’ll not be disappointed by the wait. And yes, I will be talking about birth control, among other things.”



Touching her cheek, I replied, “Mom, it’s not something you owe me. It’s not a reward like getting a cookie for being a good boy. I want it to be right and special as much as you.”



“You’re my sweet understanding son. I really appreciate that.”



Abruptly, she smiled, as though some internal joke amused her. “Mommy’s boy is too old to be rewarded with cookies, anyway. From now on, he gets nookie from Mom’s cookie jar instead,” she cackled.



I laughed with delight and hugged her tight. “It’s settled then,” I said decisively. “We just need to agree on the wage scale.”



“Beg pardon?” she asked, not following my train of thought.



“Well, let’s see. I think for cleaning my room, at least a hand job. For mowing the lawn and taking care of the pool, probably oral. If it’s something bigger, like a major project or repair, then nothing less than full on sex will do. I will let you choose what position, though,” I added magnanimously.



“You’re an incorrigible brat, you know,” she giggled.



“Yup, and proud of it, too,” I retorted, grinning widely.



Mom settled herself closer to me, nuzzling my cheek, squeezing my hands in hers. “I think we’re going to be very good together, Ricky. You make me laugh like no one else. I really love your sense of humor.”



“You deserve to be happy, Mom. All those years working so hard for us, all the sacrifices, I’ll never, ever forget that. I intend to keep you laughing and cumming as long as I’m breathing.”



“You’re my sweet young man.”



Turning serious, I changed the conversation. “Mom, when I was 14 and hormonally challenged…”



She snorted with laughter. “Hormonally challenged? That’s how you describe it? You certainly get the prize for understatement my dear, sweet boy. I knew almost from the first day when you started wanting me. I didn’t need to catch you stealing my undies, sneaking peeks up my skirt or seeing your cum in my used panties to know it either- I’m your Mom.”



“Mom!”



“What, embarrassed that I know all your secrets, young man?”



“I’m trying to be serious here, lady, give this poor guy a break.”



She tousled my hair and laughed, kissing my lightly on the lips.



“Okay, tiger, what’s on your mind?”



“Hmm, tiger, I kind of like that. Anyway, I was going to say that when I was fourteen I wanted to fuck you, but that’s not the way it is anymore. I want to make love to you Mom, I want to do it so much and make you feel so good, I can’t stand it.”



“I know you do Ricky. I want it as much as you do. Soon, we’ll fulfill that wish. We’ll make love together.”



I enveloped her in a huge hug.



“Ooof! watch it there, big guy. If you squeeze the life out of me, it ain’t gonna happen.”



“I can wait for you Mom. I think we’ll both know it when you’re ready. Anyway, there’s a lot of other things we can do until then,” I said, grinning lecherously.



“Is that so, young lover?” she bantered. “I may just cut you off at the knees until then, just to make the wait that much more exciting!”



“Mooom!”



“Riiicky!” she returned, imitating my whine.



“Just promise me one thing, lover boy.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes, that sly smile I love so much playing on her lips.



“Anything, Mom.”



“After you make love to me for the first time…”



“Yes?”



“I want you to fuck my brains out.”



Those seven words rocked my world, ricocheting around in my head like a bullet cast from an alloy of pure lust and burning desire, jacketed in the steel of every fantasy I ever had about my mother. It reduced my higher centers to pure jello in a half second and left nothing functioning but the lowest reptilian centers of my being. I was surprised that I didn’t start to reflexively hump her leg like a dog.



“God Mom, you have no idea what you do to me! Talking like that is going to fry my brain!” I groaned.



“You like it when I talk dirty to you?”



“God, yes!”



She glanced at my crotch. My hardness was rampant again, the tip of my penis poking through the fly of my boxers.



“Hmmm, doesn’t seem like you need any extra stimulation to me…”



“Now you’re just being a cruel tease.”



“Well hot stuff, it certainly looks like you’ve got a problem that needs some attention.”



That sly smile was present again, getting bigger and broader by the second. Looking me straight in the eye, she smiled wickedly and spoke words that I never thought I would hear.



“Do you want Mommy to suck your cock?”



“Oh my god, for real? Yes, yes please!”



“Well then, skin off those shorts and lie back here with your Mom. I need to taste you.”



I practically bounced to my feet. As I shucked the PJ bottoms, Mom also stood. She untied the top of her gown slowly with one hand, simultaneously caressing her breasts with the other, slowly pinching her nipples as she gradually shrugged the gown off her shoulders. When the nightgown was fully off her shoulders, she held it in place by cupping the material under both breasts with her hands, her eyes on my face the whole time. Her nipples were simply magnificent, dark pink Hershey’s kisses set against the background of her rosy areolae. They were still damp from my previous attentions, hard as flint arrowheads.



Never taking her eyes from me, she then let the gown fall around her feet. Her left hand was still cupped around her breast. She was rolling the nipple between her fingers as she trailed her right hand down over her abdomen, drawing my eyes downward. Her pubic hair was slightly trimmed, a gorgeous, full thatch of reddish blonde curls which partially concealed her nether lips. It was matted and moist from her juices.



Her index finger pointed towards her feet, she slowly passed it through her pubes, shuddering slightly as it then passed over her clitoris, dipping then into the center of her sex. She sighed, her lips parting as she ran the finger into her opening. Bringing it to her mouth, she sucked her moisture off it with a definite slurp. “Mmmmmmmm, Ricky. I want you in my mouth now. I’ve wanted it for such a long time. Are you ready?”



I laid myself down next to her, nearly speechless with desire. She hopped onto the bed, facing me, then straddled one of my legs with hers thighs, slowly lowering her head towards my groin.



As I raised my head off the pillows to watch her, she placed her hand on my chest, pushing and lightly rubbing at the same time. “Lie back and relax, lover. Close your eyes and let your mother do all the work. This is my treat for my special young man.”



It began as the lightest of touches, barely rubbing the side of her finger along the undersurface of my cock. The movement was leisurely, but not at all hesitant. As she lowered her face closer, I felt the heat of her breath, as she blew and exhaled, moving her mouth within millimeters of my flesh, traveling up and down my length. She would occasionally draw back slightly and shake her head, her hair lightly slapping into and then drawing over my throbbing helmet like a silken cascade while she rubbed her cheek against my pole.



“It’s so beautiful, Ricky,” she whispered, almost to herself. “It’s the nicest one I’ve ever touched.”



Then I felt it. A warm, teasing moistness which began as a gentle, lingering, kiss along the underside of my shaft, which then morphed into a long sensuous lick, extending along the entire length to the head, which was then engulfed briefly with the lightest of suction and swirl of the tongue.



“Oh Mom, that’s soooo goooood,” I groaned.



“Mmmmmmmpppphhhh, God Ricky, I love your taste! You are soooo sweet. Just one lick and I think I’m already addicted. I need more!”



With that, she continued, licking up and down, showering my shaft with kisses, occasionally pausing to take the head in her mouth, always sucking only lightly and swirling her tongue for the briefest of moments. I have no idea how long she continued this way. I had completely lost track of time, my perceptions contracting to include only the steady rhythm of her movements, her breathing and occasional exclamations of pleasure. I have never felt so pampered in my life. My cock seemed to have become the center of my mother’s universe, her entire being focused on the slow, leisurely pleasure she was giving me with her mouth.



Gradually, imperceptibly, she began to increase the pace of her ministrations. The exquisite sensations became more intense. I flexed my legs in response to the pleasure and Mom responded, thrusting her pelvis back against my thigh and knee, rubbing her wet slit on the skin above my knee. She began to concentrate on my head, sucking it strongly in and out of her mouth, taking more and more of my length into her mouth. I could feel resistance as the head of my cock would reach the back of her throat and she would then draw back and repeat the process. A slapping, squishing noise began to intrude on my consciousness. I opened my eyes to see Mom fingering herself as she sucked, two fingers in her opening, occasionally flicking her thumb across her clit. She seemed totally focused, in her own universe.



There was a slight shift in her angle of attack on my cock and suddenly, my entire length was engulfed, warm wet pulsations surrounding me everywhere. Mom was taking all of me! She would take me down to my root and then slowly, languorously come back up, maintaining a constant, milking suction until she had only the head of my cock in her mouth. She would then suck vigorously, simultaneously swirling her tongue over my helmet. The pace inexorably increased and I could feel an enormous pressure building, a deep tingling and tightness that began in my ass and worked its way inexorably forward through my cock.



“Mom! Oh, Mom, my god, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!”



She pulled back, keeping only my glans in her mouth and began sucking furiously while constantly swirling her tongue over my head, her hand stroking up and down on my shaft beneath her mouth.



I flat out screamed in ecstasy. As the detonations of pleasure raced through my body, I felt like I was being torn apart by a riptide of pleasure, my whole being disassembled and rebuilt as my orgasm reduced me to atoms.



All I could do was call out “Mom! Oh, Mom!” again and again and again.



When I returned to the land of the living, Mom was curled up next to me, head on the pillow next to me, gazing at my face. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling with passion. As she smiled I could see a tiny dot of my cum on her chin, only the smallest portion of my spend that she was unable to swallow.



“Come here.”



I bent to her face, licking myself off her chin, fastening my lips upon hers, tongues dancing again as we shared my taste.



As I held her close, I struggled to find the words.



“That was indescribable.”



“Your cock is an inspiration to me, Ricky. It’s truly gorgeous, just perfect. I simply couldn’t do any less for our first time like this. Your taste was wonderful,” she murmured, looking like the proverbial canary-eating cat.



“I just wish that I could have given you some of what you were lavishing on me.”



“Silly boy!” she said, scolding me with affection. “This was your time, and I wanted it to be my little gift to you. Besides, I came with my fingers while I was sucking you.”



“Anyway,” she said, stretching luxuriously, “I don’t doubt that we’ll pleasure each other the same way at the same time before long. I’m looking forward to it.”

I disentangled myself and placed her on her back, looking steadily into her eyes. “It’s my turn to return the favor, sweet mother.”



“You don’t have to, Ricky. You don’t owe me anything. I’m quite content.”



“Don’t have to?” I exclaimed indignantly. “Excuse me, but you don’t have even the faintest clue how much I want to taste you.”



“Honestly? You’re sure? You’d really do that, darling?”



I pretended exasperation. “Mom, when I used to jerk off thinking about you (which was usually 3 or 4 times a day, by the way), this was almost my favorite fantasy. You have no idea how much I want this. Now it’s your turn to relax. Just settle back now and let your horny son eat your pussy.”



“You’re a very persuasive young man. I may just let you.”



“That’s more like it.”



As we had our gentle argument, I was gradually scooting my way down between Mom’s legs. I began showering light kisses and licks just above her knees, gradually licking longer and longer tracts with my tongue, moving closer to the object of my desire.



I began tracing my lips and tongue along the folds where her thighs met the pelvis, nibbling, licking and sucking. Gradually, I moved to her outer lips, slowly and firmly licking up and down, side to side, staying away from her opening. I was now at my interminably longed-for altar of worship, where I belonged.



I probed with my tongue. I ran my fingers lightly along her outer lips, teasing out slightly sticky tendrils of succulent honey from her center. I gently ran my thumb over her hood, the barest of contact causing her to lightly shudder. Every trick, every nuance of oral pleasure I had learned from previous lovers, I brought to bear as I ate my mother for the first time. Nothing less than a magnificent, epic orgasm would do.



I tasted sweetness, salty tang and heady musk, better than the nectar of the gods, the nectar of my goddess. Mom’s hands found their way to my cheeks, lovingly caressing, slowly rising up to rest gently on my scalp, toying with my hair.



“Oh, Ricky baby, what are you doing to your mom? That is so good, baby,” she moaned.



I gradually added a gentle probing and sucking, stiffening my tongue, working as slowly as possible to her center, then outward again. By now her hands were gently knotted in my hair and she cooing and sighing constantly. I slid my hands under her ass, raising her to meet my mouth, centering and stiffening my tongue, then slowly and firmly driving it into her dripping center.



“Ah! Oh God, yes, more please,” she whimpered.



I let my tongue trail out of her opening, always maintaining contact and let it slip to her perineum, where I licked more. I let my thumb gently slide along the crack of her buttocks, dragging it slowly downward. By now, Mom’s legs were spread as wide as she could get them, her feet straight up in the air. I could see everything. Her ass was alternately clenching and relaxing and I could see her rosebud slightly opening and closing as I licked. I lightly rubbed my thumb around her most secret place, gently pressing and retreating as I continued to lick.,



“My God, you little devil,” she breathed. “Where the hell did you learn that? You’re driving me crazy, touching me there!”



I responded by firmly stabbing my tongue back into her vagina, licking and sucking more insistently now. She began to buck her hips at my face, smearing me with her freely flowing juices from forehead to chin. I slowly withdrew my tongue to the outer reaches of her opening, then traveling upward towards her nub, always maintaining contact with her moist flesh. At the same time, I inserted a finger into her channel, slowly, firmly, as far as I could. I then added a second finger and began to rediscover the place I had emerged from into the world. I continued to lick and suck around her outer lips, staying a teasing distance from her clit as I continued my braille exploration. When I curled my fingers, I felt what seemed like a small interior mound along the front of her passage. As I carefully traced my fingers across this, I felt Mom stiffen.



“Ooooooohhhhh, yessssss! That spot! Again, lover! Again!” she hissed.



I began to apply more pressure, more probing to the area, questing, searching until I found the raised sponginess again.



Mom was now thrusting in earnest against my fingers, grunting and moaning constantly, thrashing her head from side to side as I continued my motions.



“Oh, God! Oh Jesus, Mommy’s close, sweetheart, Mommy’s realllllly close now. Give me more, give me more!”



At this, I moved my mouth directly over her clit and began to vibrate it with the very tip of my tongue.



“Ah! AH! I’m coming! Fuck! I’m coming! Give it to Mommy, baby! Making Mommeeee cummmmmmmmmmmm!”



I went into overdrive. Placing my whole mouth over her clit as I continued thrusting with my fingers, I began sucking and swirling my tongue over her little man in the boat, trying as best I could to imitate what she had done for me earlier.



The results exceeded my fondest hopes. Mom’s entire body was vibrating, completely clenched in a rigid contraction of ecstasy. She was pushing up against my fingers and mouth as fast and hard as she could, rising from one peak to the next with increasing intensity each time. Her moans were completely incoherent. I could feel her spasms with my fingers, wave after wave of contractions flowing through the walls of her pussy, around my slippery digits.



I don’t know exactly how or when she finished climaxing, if it was her cum running its course, or me running out of hand and lip stamina to keep up with her, but her passion and my strength eventually ebbed over 2 or 3 tumultuous minutes. My hand was practically numb, my face completely coated with her essence from forehead to chin. Looking at Mom, she was still fully spread-eagled on the bed, shoulders, breasts and face flushed and moistened with perspiration, breathing like a marathon runner in the 26th mile. Her eyes were closed, lids fluttering, a smile playing on her lips.



As I laid my head on her abdomen, watching her heaving chest slowly settle, she appeared so gorgeous at that instant that I could hardly stand it. Her pleasure was mine. Our connection was sublime. The moment stretched to the end of time and then she opened her eyes.



“Ricky…honey…dearest son…my lover,” she sighed. “That was beyond paradise. I didn’t think it would be possible to cum any harder than I did earlier, but you did it. That was the best of my life.”



I sighed with contentment. “I just had one of my fondest dreams come true, Mom,” I said, my voice catching slightly with emotion. “I can’t think of many things that are better than having the love of your life come all over your face.”



“I did a job of it, didn’t I? You should look at yourself in a mirror – it’s quite a sight, I can tell you. Come here and let me clean you up.”



I moved from the V of her legs to her side, my head resting next to hers on the pillows. She then took my head in her hands and began to gently lick my cheek, traveling across to my nose, down over my lips to my chin and then to my forehead, alternating kitten-like licks and delicate kisses. It was at once utterly sensuous and amazingly tender. I closed my eyes and relaxed so totally that I think I drifted off for a few moments. When I returned to awareness, Mom was curled up in the crook of my arm, head on my chest, breathing deeply and evenly. I drifted back into dreams myself, my last waking thoughts of bemused amazement not even enough to keep me from sleep.



***




I awoke to disorientation, not recognizing my surroundings for several moments. Judging by the light and shadows, it was probably late morning. I couldn’t have slept more than three hours, but I felt refreshed, renewed and preternaturally alert. Gradually, I processed my environment and it then hit me. In Mom’s bedroom – in her bed! Not a dream. Solid, amazing, absolutely gob-smacking reality! In an instant, I was wide-awake, as all of the evening’s memories came thundering back into my head.



Mom was finally at peace with the idea that we were now a couple. We had been truly intimate. We hadn’t actually had sex, but we had, in our own way, made love. As wonderful as those thoughts were, though, the thing that meant the most to me was where I was sitting at that moment.



I had slept in Mom’s bed with her! It was from now on, for the glorious future unfolding in front of us, OUR bed. I grinned so widely, it was a miracle I didn’t split my whole face wide open. I wanted to beat my chest like Johnny Weissmuller. I wanted to climb on the roof and howl at the moon. I wanted to leap whole buildings at a single bound. I wanted to wake my woman with a warm, lovers kiss, but Mom was gone, her side of the mattress already cool.



I felt a momentary pang of regret that I didn’t wake up to see her next to me, but I got over it when I heard the sounds of food preparation from the kitchen. For some silly reason, I was inordinately pleased that Mom was making breakfast for us. It made me feel warm inside.



The enticing aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee provided the added impetus I needed to rise from her bed (our bed now!) and I padded back to my bedroom to get come clean clothes. I then hit the shower, pausing briefly to drain the snake. That act proved to be more difficult than usual, as the good soldier was standing at an angle of attention that could not be fully explained just by the need to pee. After my shower, I slid on my gym shorts and a tank top, heading downstairs to a truly new day.



As I contemplated my late breakfast plans, I detoured to the foyer, double-checking to make sure the door from the garage was locked. Entering the kitchen, I saw Mom’s back was to me, working at the sink. She was clad only in a short red silk, kimono style robe, which did not quite extend down far enough to cover her delightful, round cheeks. As she worked at the sink, shifting slightly, I could see the lips of her sex, nestled between the perfect, arcing creases of her buttocks.



Coming up behind her, I encircled her waist for a hug and nuzzled her neck.



“Morning, mother-love. I hope you haven’t been up too long on my account.”



“I wanted to fix my son some breakfast this morning,” she smiled, leaning back into my embrace. “Bacon, eggs and toast are on the table. Let me just finish washing this pan and we’ll sit down.”



I caressed the underside of her left breast through the kimono as I reached across the sink, slowly pulling the window shade opposite us down with my other hand.



“Somehow, I don’t think Marcia will be bothering us this morning, but I’d like a little privacy. Our last interlude in here left something to be desired.”



Mom snorted a laugh, which turned into a low moan as I gently cupped her tits from behind. The frying pan dropped from her hands into the sink with a small, soapy splash as she wetly clasped my hands over her breasts. The residual soap and water quickly soaked through the thin, silky material of her kimono, her nipples standing out like small stones through the slick material. I began to gently pinch her, her rosy tips popping them through my slippery fingertips as Mom’s hands further tightened over my own.



“Ooohhhh, baby, getting an early start to our day, are we?” she sighed. “You don’t want the bacon and eggs Mommy cooked for you, do you?”



“I have something else in mind,” I said lecherously. “I want sticky buns.”



“Mmmmmm, really? I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”



“Actually, not so sweet,” I replied, dragging my hands down her sides to her ass. I gently thrust my hardness against her wonderful back crevice, pushing her slowly but firmly against the sink. Mom gasped lightly and then thrust back against me. “Just what are you up to back there, Ricky?”



Dropping to my knees, I ran my hands up the back of her thighs and slid the fabric of the kimono up over her hips, revealing her gorgeous, fleshy half moons. I kneaded her cheeks gently, squeezing, lifting and pulling. There it was, her most intimate place. Trailing my tongue down the divine canyon between her buttocks, I fully spread her cheeks and began to lick her little hole.



“Oh my Sweet Jesus!” she groaned, rigid with shock. “Dear God, what are you doing Ricky? Ohhh, SHIT! BABY! No one’s ever done…ooohhhhhhh, my goooodddd…that…before.”



With that, I stiffened my tongue and began to probe, in and out, around and around her musky pucker.



“Nmmmmmm, you naughty, naughty boy,” she moaned. “You just have to have Mommy’s nasty place, don’t you? My God, Ricky, you are soooo kinky!”



As I explored my newfound object of passion with my tongue, I slipped a finger into Mom’s rapidly moistening slit, slowly rubbing back and forth, coating it with her dewy secretions.



“Ohhhhh, fuck! What you’re doing to me, lover! Gooodddd, don’t stop licking!!”



She had now spread her legs, hands braced on the counter top, fully thrusting her ass back on to my eager tongue. Her taste was absolutely indescribable, at once earthy, tangy, bitter and delightfully complex.



Withdrawing my finger from her pussy, I stopped my licking and grabbed her hip, roughly turning her front to me. She murmured briefly in protest. As she faced me, knees slightly bent and thighs opened, I slowly and deliberately looked up into her eyes.



Her face was a mask of absolute, unbridled lust, eyes wide open, pupils dilated, mouth half open with her ragged breaths. Still maintaining eye contact, I parted her thighs, slipped my slick digits between her legs and slowly inserted my index finger into her sweet back passage. Her eyes widened in shock and she began to hump backwards against my hand, causing my finger to slide in up to the knuckle.



“Fuck, oh fuck, what are you dooooiing, Ricky? You’re fucking my asshole with your finger! I can’t stand it! If feels soooo gooood. Push harder, love! Mmmmppphhhh! Push harder!! Annnhhhhh! God, yesssss, HARDER!



Breaking eye contact, I began sucking her clit and inserted a finger from my other hand into her slick, warm sheath.



She let out an absolutely animalistic, guttural moan and began sawing her pelvis back and forth, alternating between thrusting herself onto my face and slamming her ass against my fingers. Her pace rapidly reached a crescendo and she began to wail.



“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh!!! My god mygodomigodomigod, I’m coming! I’m coming!” she cried, her voice trailing off into an inarticulate groan.



Her ass began contracting in great spasms, practically crushing my finger. She threw her head back, strained forward onto her toes and mashed her sex against my face. I was then surprised by a sudden gush of nectar from her cunt, which splashed slightly onto my chin, but mostly ran down over my wrist and dripped onto the kitchen floor. I was so into the moment that I hardly noticed when I spurted myself, it was that erotic.



Chest heaving, knees slowly buckling, Mom slid down the counter, panting, limply collapsing into my lap. She locked her arms around my neck, grazing her lips over mine and nuzzling my cheek.



“My God Ricky! Where did that come from?” she panted. “I don’t know if I can call you my dear sweet boy anymore – that was sexy and nasty…and I loved every damn second of it!” she exhaled, a sigh of slightly guilty, salacious satisfaction escaping her lips. Her expression was adorable, a combination of surprise, affection and unrepentant lust which was absolutely irresistible. I kissed her fiercely.



I stroked her hair and traced the outline of her ear with my fingertip. “You know, I’m not sure why I did that, but it seemed like the thing to do. I guess I liked the idea because it made me feel especially close to you, somehow. Anyway, you were awesome, Mom, like a force of nature.”



“There wasn’t much natural about that,” she snorted. “It was just flat out wicked and dirty. I think that’s what set me off so hard. I don’t think I’ve ever done that…that thing before.”



“It was incredibly sexy, Mom, the way you just let yourself go, how you totally got into it. It was so hot when you squirted that I came without touching myself, so that was a first for me too.”



“I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did,” I added softly.



“Baby, it was amazing. No man has EVER touched me like that before. You surprised me a little, that’s all. But yes, sweetie, I’m amazed to say that I really, really liked it. You can love on my bottom any time you want.”



“I’m going to hold you to that, sexy girl. I could easily become addicted to your beautiful ass.”



Mom shivered slightly and snuggled up against me, lost in thought for a moment. “I think you are a sneaky, devious young man, doing that to me. I loved that combination of kink and intimacy, you devil. I didn’t know I had it in me to like that kind of thing.”



She shook her head in slow wonderment and gave me a sweet kiss.



“Well, anyway, you got your breakfast wish, lover. My buns are definitely sticky now, which I’m sure you planned all along. I’m afraid eggs and bacon are going to seem very pedestrian now.”



“Actually, I’m famished. I didn’t have much of an appetite while you were gone.”



“Poor boy, to think you might have wasted away before I came home.”



“Time for our breakfast,” I said, pulling her to her feet.



Slipping one arm behind her knees, I lifted and then carried her, giggling, to the breakfast nook and sat her in my lap. We then took turns feeding each other from the platters on the table, leisurely enjoying the respite, stealing sweet, slow kisses from each other between bites. When we finished, Mom stayed in my lap, arms linked around my neck as she rested her head on my shoulder. Inhaling her scent, my nose buried in her hair, I felt reborn into an amazing new world.



I wrapped her tightly in my arms and kissed her neck. She sighed and held me close. No words were necessary.



***




The rest of our day continued in a slow, unhurried and sensuous haze of exploratory caresses, kisses, licking and fingerings, as we gradually claimed each other, the hours flowing by like the slow, sweet ooze of poured honey. We relaxed watching a movie in the den, which morphed into our first 69 on the couch. As she straddled my face, sucking me slowly and lovingly while I lapped up her juices, I almost lost my mind with pleasure.



Later that afternoon in the shower, she returned the morning’s favor, slipping her finger up my ass during a blowjob, giving me my first experience with a prostate massage. Between her incredible deep throat and the unexpected invasion of my ass, I came so hard, I couldn’t stand up when she was finished.



Before dinner, I had my way again in the kitchen, eating her pussy and ass on the kitchen table until she begged for mercy. I made her come at least three or four times before she begged me to stop.



By the time evening arrived, we were sated and exhausted in our discoveries of each other. I ordered in a pizza and afterwards we watched movies. We fell asleep snuggled together on the sofa, totally spent from our previous night’s sleep deprivation and nonstop day of passion, waking in each other’s arms almost twelve hours later.



I slowly returned from wet and warm dreams to something warm and wet in my ear. Mom was whispering to me, tonguing my ear as she stroked my cock.



“Up and at ‘em, baby. Mommy needs her protein shake for breakfast.”



“Mmmmmmm, what a great way to wake up, Mom.”



“Lay back, sweetie. Momma’s going to take care of you now.”



With that, she dipped her head to my groin and took me in to the hilt in one swallow. The sensation was so intense, I bucked involuntarily, causing Mom to gag slightly for a moment. Coughing slightly, she pulled off momentarily, eyes watering.



“Easy there, cowboy, no rush, okay?” she gasped.



“Sorry, Mom,” I apologized sheepishly. “You’re just too good a cocksucker – you drive me crazy when you do the deep throat thing.”

Stroking her cheek, I murmured, “I’ll try to keep it cool.”



“Not too cool, darling,” she cooed, bending back to work. “Momma’s hungry this morning.”



As she returned to her pleasant task, she licked me from base to crown, fisting my length while sucking lustily on my glans, popping it in and out of her mouth with drooling smacks. Gradually, she worked her way back down the shaft, again devouring me completely. She began to make a humming noise deep in her throat, as she cupped my balls, finger running teasingly along my ‘taint. The sensations were incredible, the slight vibration from her humming and the encompassing, enveloping wetness making my toes literally curl with arousal.



By this point, I was barely able to keep from moving, eyes rolling back in my head, practically ripping holes in the cushions of the sofa with my clawed fingernails. When her finger found its way to my ass, I couldn’t help myself. As my hips started to thrust involuntarily, Mom pulled back so only the head of my penis was in her mouth and she began fisting my shaft furiously with her other hand as her fingers found my prostate.



Thrusting uncontrollably and spouting gibberish, I sprayed myself into Mom’s loving mouth. My hips were shaking so much that I popped out for a moment, painting her cheeks and chin with gooey whiteness as she swallowed what did find its way onto her tongue.



As I lay back, a completely limp rag of a son, Mom smiled warmly, wiping her chin and cheeks with her index finger, sucking it clean with lip-smacking relish, claiming the last residue of my cum.



Definitely appearing like the cat that ate the canary, she looked me in the eye and whispered seductively, “COCK-a-doodle-do!”



Shaking off a last post-orgasmic tremor, I stretched, grinned and pulled her close for a kiss.



“Good morning to you too, Mom,” I whispered back, nuzzling the juncture of her neck and shoulder.



Bending once again to my crotch, she said, “There’s still a little more cleanup here.” Then she drained me completely dry, sucking, licking and cooing until I was completely clean and limp.



As she licked the last of my cum from her lips, she looked at me and grinned wickedly. “My boy likes sticky buns for breakfast, but his mommy likes a nice hot sausage!”



“You crack me up, lady. Actually, I like tacos for breakfast too.”



“Taco, indeed! You are an uncultured beast. You don’t deserve your mother.”



“Probably not, but I’ve got her nonetheless and I have no plans to let her go. Ever,” I concluded emphatically.



I wormed my way down to her thighs, exhaling softly on her skin as I went.



“Here now, what are you doing with that tongue of yours? Oh god, you just make me so wet!”



“I just want my breakfast, ma’am.”



“You couldn’t be satisfied with just a cup of coffee, could you?”



“Nope. Bring your hips up here, Mom. Sit on your horny son’s face.”



“Mmmmmmmm. Soooo goood. Jesus, how do you get that tongue of yours up so far?”



“Mmmmppphhhh. NNNggghhhh. Yummmmmm. Lots of practice yesterday.”



“Less talking, more eating, dear boy.”



“Yes, ma’am.”



“Ooohhhhhh, baby! You feel so good and I feel soooo nasty when you play with my ass like that. Yeah, put your finger allllll the way in.”



“Ahhhhhh, yessssss, lick me, baby. Push harder with your finger! Here it comes. Here it comes! OOhhhhhhhhhh myyyyyy gaaaaaawddddd!”



As the glow faded, Mom gradually snuggled back down into the crook of my arm, her hands idly straying over my chest.



“Much as I’d like to stay right here all day, my darling, we’ve got things to do.”



“I know Mom, just a few more minutes and we’ll get a shower and have some breakfast. I’ll cook us something nice this morning.”



“Sounds good, what are you going to make?”



“Hmmmm. Nothing fancy, maybe some huevos rancheros.”



“Sounds delicious. Now wipe that leer off your face and get up to the shower. I’ll scrub your back and then you can feed your poor, starving and exploited mother,” she said with a mock pout and faux-petulant tone.



Mom took charge of me when I joined her in the shower stall, cleaning me thoroughly from head to toe, more gently and lovingly than sensuously, pausing many times for sweet, tender kisses. She made me feel so loved on and coddled, I could hardly stand it.



When she was finished, she shooed me out of the stall, lightly slapping my ass, saying, “You can spoil me next time, lover. Right now I’m hungry, so get your cute, squeaky-clean butt into the kitchen and get cracking.”



Later, Mom joined me in the kitchen, gliding up to me and hugging me from behind as I put the eggs and salsa on the tortillas. She laid her head against my back and rubbed my chest through my T-shirt, squeezing me tightly.



“Do you know how happy you’ve made me, Ricky?”



I turned around to face her. She looked radiant and wholesomely fresh in her simple terry cloth robe, a winsome smile on her face, skin glowing and hair still damp from the shower.



Placing my hands on her hips, I pulled her close and enveloped her in my arms, giving her a fierce, long hug.



“Probably about as much as you’ve done for me, Mom. You know what’s scary, though?



“What’s that?”



“I think it’s going to get better still. Deeper, more intense.”



“I think you’re right. Are you ready for that?”



I drew a deep breath. “I think so. It’s funny though, you know…what we agreed to yesterday.”



“How so?”



“Well, if you had asked me if I thought I could hold out for a while, waiting for you, even a few weeks ago, I don’t know if I could have said yes. I had been living in such a constant state of frustration for so long…but now…now I’m feeling sort of at peace with the idea. I know for sure I can be patient now. I think that the delay is going to make it even better when it does happen. For that, I can wait.”



“My dear, sweet, sexy lover-son, you are full of unsuspected depths and surprises, and not just carnal ones, either. You are wise beyond your years. Honestly, I’m at the point where I don’t know if I can wait another minute.”



“Smooth or ribbed, Mom?”



“I beg your pardon?”



“Smooth or ribbed? We need to be prepared when the moment is right. I figure I should pick up some protection when we go out shopping later today.”



“You are always my considerate, thoughtful young man. I appreciate that offer more than you know, but I have other plans for your wonderful spunk.”



“What do you mean, Mom?”



I felt her take a deep breath and she burrowed her head against my chest, hugging me tightly before continuing. “What I mean, Ricky, is that I’ve thought about this a lot. I don’t ever want to not feel your cum, no matter where you are in me…that’s why I’m going to see my gynecologist as soon as I can tomorrow. She’ll probably need to do a few tests, but everything should be squared away for us by the end of the week. That way, we can be totally spontaneous. That’s what I would like.”



“Wow. Just. Wow. Does that mean you’re going to go on the pill? I mean, I know how it’s not as safe if you’re over 30 and all and I really like the idea of it being totally natural, but… it’s not worth it if there’s even the slightest chance of a problem for you, Mom,” I finished in a rush, out of breath.



“I won’t do anything she advises against, I promise. We’ll only do things the safest way, okay?” she replied, smiling enigmatically.



“Okay, Mom. I trust you,” I replied, putting further questions to the back of my mind.



“Great. Let’s eat this wonderful breakfast and we’ll head out. We’ll hit the mall first and then the Farmer’s Market on the way back, okay?”



“Yours to command, lover lady.”



Later, as we drove to the mall, Mom snuggled up next to me and nuzzled my cheek, her hand idly caressing my thigh, occasionally straying to my crotch, where she would lightly trace my hardening outline with her fingernail. She was wearing the gorgeous sundress from our July 4th celebration, proudly braless, looking irresistible. It was a major effort to concentrate on the road, between her attire and hands teasing my dick.



“If you keep that up, I’ll have to pull over and take you by force,” I growled.



She laughed lightly. “I’m simply helping you to develop greater self control, lover boy.”



I reached over to her side of the seat and quickly jerked her sundress up to her hips. “Two can play that game, you shameless hussy,” I said.



I was prepared to just feel my way into her folds while driving and bring her off with my hand, but I made the mistake of glancing down first.



I almost swerved off the road.



Mom laughed delightedly and turned my head to face forward. “As that poet James Morrison once sang, ‘Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel’,” she quipped.



“Holy shit Mom! Where did those come from? I thought I was familiar with all your panties from my beating off days,” I said somewhat sheepishly. “I’m pretty damn sure I would have remembered transparent, French cut and crotchless, for god’s sake.”



“We women must have our secrets, dear boy. I take it you like?”



“Like? Jesus Mom, they’re blazing hot!”



“The light’s changed, sweetheart. Now, be a dear and watch the road. You can pay attention to my pussy later.”



It wasn’t easy, but I managed to guide us safely to the mall. We wound our way up through the parking structure until we found a spot where I could pull in. Turning the ignition off, I sat back and let out a deep breath.



“Aren’t you getting out, sweetheart?”



“Jeez, give me a minute, Mom. If I try to move right now, I might snap something in half.”



“You poor boy. Mommy will have to help you with that terrible swelling after we finish shopping.”



She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck, turning my face to hers and spoke teasingly, lightly kissing me and then touching her finger to my lips to emphasize each word as she continued. “As we discussed this morning. Patience. Is. A. Virtue. Now, stuff that nasty snake down you pants leg and lets go shopping.”



“I think I’ve fallen in love with a sadist.”



“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, lover boy.”



“So what’s next then, thigh high leather boots, corsets and whips?”



Mom could always give back as good as she got. “Why not add a donkey, a dwarf and a couple of bratwursts?”



I laughed long and hard. “I foresee an interesting life with you, Mom.”



***




As we strolled through Bloomingdale’s into the central atrium, Mom said, “I have a couple of stops I’d like to make by myself sweetie. Is that okay? Meet you here by the kiosk in an hour?”



“Okay Mom. I’ve got something I’d like to do myself. I’m going to go over to the bank branch and get started.”



“Do you have enough in your account? Do you need anything more?”



“Thanks Mom, I’m good.”



“See you in an hour.”



I set about my business and was able to make my single, very important purchase in short order. I made my way back to our rendezvous location. As always, Mom was precise and punctual, arriving on the dot, appearing flushed and happy, sporting three large, fancy shopping bags.



“Well, it looks like someone had themselves a good time.” I tried for a quick peek into the bags and Mom danced away, her eyes sparkling.



“No peeking before Christmas, naughty boy!”



“Christmas?” I said incredulously.



“It’s coming early this year.”



“I see.”



“You will soon enough, I daresay.”



“I don’t recognize the brands on those boxes.” I rolled the unfamiliar names off my tongue. “Aubade, Bordelle, La Perla, Eres.”



“You’ll be enlightened soon enough. Down, boy!” She slapped at my hands as I made another attempt to peek.



“We’ve got one more stop, Ricky. Come with me.”



Mom hooked her arm in mine and led us down a side corridor, clearly an administrative part of the mall. We stopped at a door marked “Security Services” and Mom knocked lightly. The door opened shortly and we were confronted by a uniformed presence.



“Can I help you ma’am?”



“Oh yes, I surely hope so, officer. We’re parked over on level 5 and I’m a bit concerned about going out to our car. I thought I saw a rather disreputable fellow skulking around there when we came into the mall. I’d just like to know that it’s safe to head out. One can’t be too careful these days.”



“Certainly, ma’am. Step inside and we’ll check the monitors quickly. Would you feel safer with an escort?”



“Oh no, officer, you’re too kind. It’s enough that you’re checking the cameras now, thanks so much.”



“It’ll just take a minute for us to cycle through them all.”



“You’re very kind, officer. I appreciate your efforts.”



“My pleasure, ma’am”



Several minutes later, as we left, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any further. “Mom, what was that about? We parked in a very safe spot.”



She turned to me, kissing my cheek and squeezing my arm.



“Men are so hopeless when it comes to planning ahead. There’s no camera coverage on the northwest corner of the top level and no one is parked up there now,”



“Mom! You mean…”



She leaned into me and whispered seductively into my ear, literally pushing my mouth gently closed, fingers under my chin.



“I need to sit on your face right now, Ricky. I want you to eat me ’till I come all over you.”



It was a miracle that my rapidly engorging cock didn’t rip through my pants on the spot. We practically ran back to the car. By the time I was seated behind the wheel, my hands were shaking so much, I had a difficult time fitting the key in the ignition.



“What’s the problem, love? I thought guys all had that ‘tab a into slot b’ stuff hardwired into their brains,” Mom teased.



“You’re a horrible tease. I’m suffering from severe diversion of blood from the big to the little head and what little real gray matter I’ve got left is turning to tapioca.”



Somehow, I managed to start the car and back out without damaging anything.



“Drive slowly now, Ricky. Don’t attract attention. Nurse Mommy has the cure for what ails you. A little farther now. Over there, to the left. Perfect.”



“Okay, Ricky, outside.”



“Outside?!”



“Silly – we’ve got to open the hatch and fold the back seats down. There’s already a blanket there. C’mon.”



Mom crawled into the back, hiking up her dress, exposing her creamy thighs and those wonderful panties, perfectly framing her nether lips. I could see she was already slick with anticipation. Once I was in beside her, she turned rapidly and threw her hips over my head, driving her sex on to my face. She practically ripped my pants down, immediately engulfing my cock with her mouth. I bent to the task at hand, licking front to back, back to front. I wormed the index finger of one hand into her little pink pucker and reached to the front with my other, gently massaging and pinching her clit. Her sucking and hand motion on my cock increased in frequency and intensity. Soon, her thighs began to rhythmically contract around my ears, increasing in frequency and strength. She was close and so was I. Pulling my finger from her ass, I started slapping her cheeks and thrust my tongue back where the finger had just been as hard and deep as I could, all the time increasing my stimulation of her clit. We went over the cliff to bliss together, rocking the car furiously with our climaxes.



Some indeterminate time later, I came back to earth. “My god, Mom, you are a total fiend! Never did I even imagine such a scene, even in my wildest dreams. That was soooooo good!”



Mom turned around to snuggle up with me, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I loved it too, Ricky.” She shuddered briefly. “What those wonderful lips and hands do to me – they set me on fire!”



“Perhaps we should keep an extinguisher handy in the future. I would be devastated if you were to spontaneously combust,” I teased.



“Oho! Aren’t we the egotistical one now!”



“Just the facts, Ma’am. When you detonate, you’re probably a public safety hazard. The next time I eat you, we may need the Bomb Squad on hand.”



“Enough! We need to go home and clean up. It might cause a bit of a stir if you were to show up at the farmer’s market with my juice all over you face. Besides, it’s rude to squeeze the produce when you have stink-finger.”



She adopted a plummy British accent. “It’s simply not the done thing, don’t you know.”



I conceded defeat for this round of teasing. I should have known better than to try to trade witticisms with an attorney.



“Your coach awaits, milady,” I said, conceding defeat.



Our trip to the market was a surprisingly welcome interlude of day-to-day normalcy. It was a pure, simple pleasure to stroll the market together, arm in arm as mother and son. As wonderful as our new intimacy was, I truly savored our tour through the various vendor stalls, just enjoying being with Mom.



Outwardly, we presented a perfectly normal appearance, walking from vendor to vendor, Mom’s arm linked trough mine. But the fleeting glances we occasionally gave each other spoke to something that was definitely not mundane or ordinary. Our new, incredible secret buoyed us beyond any daily triviality, making every moment of our shared activities altogether precious and unique.



While we strolled the aisles, Mom’s hand never left my arm, her touch light, appearing perfectly appropriate to any outside observation. Only I could notice the random, light caress of a fingertip across my skin, occasionally raising goose bumps.



We took our time, stopping frequently to sample fresh cheeses and fruit. We daintily and circumspectly fed each other the giveaways, mindful of our public location. There was an overwhelming temptation to suck fingertips into one another’s mouths after some of the samples, especially the warm Brie, but we managed to maintain decorum, just barely. When we were in small passages between stalls and no one was near, Mom would draw close to me, lightly bumping her hip against mine. It was a simple, just slightly intimate gesture, but it affected me deeply. I felt like we were two pieces of a long-separated puzzle, now finally and irrevocably joined.



We didn’t really have any particular plan of shopping as we explored the many booths. I think we were simply happy to be there, doing a simple, day-to-day task together. Eventually, we found our way to the display of a local charcuterie, famous for their salami.



“Oh, look Ricky!” Mom exclaimed with delight. “The butcher has guanciale again!”



“Great! If we can score some orecchiette and pecorino Romano, we’ll be golden. Let’s get some salad greens and anchovies and I’ll make a Caesar too.”



“That sounds scrumptious. You really spoil me, sweetie. I’m just worried that all of this is going to make my ass positively matronly before too long.”



I bent to whisper in her ear. “You already know how I feel about your amazing ass, mother mine. Anyway, you’ll need those calories quick enough. One of your orgasms probably burns a whole plate’s worth.”



“Promises, promises.”



***




If I may say so, our dinner was wonderful. The pasta came out exceptionally well, in true, elegant, simple Roman style, the Caesar perfectly crisp and fresh. We killed the better part of a whole bottle of Panizzi Vernaccia di San Gimignano, lending a slightly tipsy air of hilarity to the meal. Mom sat next to me and we fed each other, holding hands and occasionally giggling like giddy children. We each managed to steal a few kisses from one another between bites, with just the occasional, tip tingling touching of tongues.



It was simple, sensuous, uncomplicated and one of the finest meals of my entire life.



As we pushed our plates away to the center of the table, Mom relaxed her head onto my shoulder. She belched indelicately once and chuckled. “That was perfect, son,” she sighed. “You are far too talented a chef for my waistline – if we keep going like this, what little of my figure that I still have will disappear into folds of fat in about 2 weeks.”

“Well Mom, I guess I’ll just have to make sure that we increase the number of orgasms you have each day, that should offset my cooking.”



“We can publish a new diet and be famous and rich, then Ricky. ‘The Making Mommy Cum Cookbook’ sounds about right, don’t you think?”



“A sure-fire bestseller, if there ever was one, Mom.”



“We’ll find a publisher tomorrow, but in the meanwhile, I need another kiss from my handsome young lover. Then maybe we’ll work on some of the recipes for that book.”



“Mmmmm. Will it have illustrations and photos?”



“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you insatiable horndog.”



“Only if I get to pick the pictures, ” I whispered into her ear, giving her ass a squeeze.



“What do you mean, you getting to pick? I thought this was going to be a collaborative effort.”



“Yeah, but I’m the trained chef here. That means I get to be on top-I mean I’m in charge of the project.”



Mom cackled in delight. “You’re a real brat, but you make me laugh and I love you to death. I’ll probably curse you later for the wrinkles you’ll give me, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”



“Mmmmm.” I buried my face in her hair, stroking her back. “What do you think causes more wrinkles, laughing or coming real hard?”



“It depends on how much spunk is available to rub in the skin afterwards.”



“I think an experiment is in order, Mom.”



“Well, my darling boy, we all occasionally have to make sacrifices for the advancement of knowledge. Let’s go to bed and do our part, lover. I’ve wanted to feel your come on my tits for a while now.”



***




The next morning, I got busy with chores while Mom went to her doctor and then to the office. The big job was restaining the privacy fence in the back yard, which was going to take several days. It was already muggy and hot when I got outside at 8:30 and the day promised to become even more sultry as the job progressed. I made a big jug of instant lemonade, generously dosed with ice, stripped down to my shorts and got to work.



It was probably just as well that I had a monotonous, more or less mindless task to keep me occupied, because all I could think about was our amazing weekend together. I’m not sure how good a job I did with the painting, as I spent most of the morning daydreaming, a huge idiot smile on my face and a stiff dick in my shorts.



By midday, it must have been ninety degrees and ninety percent humidity and I felt like I was melting. To prevent myself from turning into a piece of beef jerky, I started jumping into the pool for a lap every twenty or thirty minutes, which allowed me to make good progress. Around 4:00 or so, I was better than halfway done and felt pretty thoroughly baked, so I called it a day. I brought a beat up old boom box to the poolside and put on a Top 40 oldies station. Slathering myself with more sunscreen, I threw an air mattress into the pool and climbed on board, promptly dozing off.



***




I awoke rudely and suddenly, finding myself underwater. Spluttering and choking, I came to the surface, face to face with Mom, her hands clutching my air mattress.



Grinning wickedly, she crowed “Gotcha!”



She was wearing a bra and sensible white cotton panties, all clinging to her skin beneath the surface of the pool, nearly transparent in their wetness. I could see her blouse and skirt in a pile at the edge of the pool. Her nipples were erect, rosy and prominent against the cups of the brassiere. Her reddish brown thatch showed clearly through her panties, which clung tightly to her hips.



“You snuck up on me, you devious minx.”



“That I did, pool boy. You were too tempting a target to pass up.”



“An uncalled for sneak attack, if you ask me,” I pretended to be affronted. “I demand reparations.”



“Oh, is that so?”



“I do.” Pulling the air mattress from her gently, I slipped an arm under her legs, pulling her up off her feet, my other arm supporting her back as she floated closer to me. As she placed her arms around my neck, my mouth sought hers. Our kiss continued for some time, tongues twining in liquid dance, time slowing until we reluctantly broke to breathe. Steve Winwood was playing on the radio and we were serenaded perfectly by “Back In the High Life Again” as I held Mom, floating in my arms.



“Mmmmmm. Missed you, Mom.”



“Me too, my sweet son. It took a little while to get settled in at work this afternoon. It was hard to concentrate – too many nice memories from the weekend.”



“I had a hard on practically the whole day,” I admitted sheepishly.



“I hope you saved some for your mother,” she teased.



“I don’t think I’ll ever jack off again, Mom.”



“You’re so sweet, darling boy. I’m afraid I wasn’t as good as you, in fact, I was very bad today, Ricky,” Mom confessed.



“What did you do, naughty girl?”



“I fingered myself in the executive washroom three times today. I couldn’t wait to get back to my beautiful young stud – I was just too horny for my own good.”



“I’ll take that as a compliment, mother dear.”



“As well you should, young man.”



We exchanged a few more kisses as I walked us towards the pool edge, setting Mom on the combing, her legs dangling over the edge, feet in the water. Moving close to her, I kissed her stomach, fluttering my lips on the soft skin of her flanks, then dragging my tongue to glide around the perimeter of her navel. Her hands circled my head, twining lightly in my hair and she drew my cheek against her belly with a sigh.



“Is this part of your reparations, sweetheart?” She asked with a sultry, coquettish smile.



I exhaled on her skin, causing her to shiver and then resumed kissing her belly button, dragging my tongue through its smooth, oval depression.



“It’s a beginning, Mom.”



“Ahhhhh, you have such a wonderful mouth, son,” she exhaled softly as I moved down to the juncture of her thighs, lightly blowing on her mound through her panties. “Are you hoping for treble damages?”



“The jury’s still out, Mom.” Pulling her to the edge of the pool, I placed my mouth directly on her sex, sucking her lips through the fabric of her panties, tasting her juices mingled with the pool water.



She inhaled with a sharp hiss. “Oh, baby, that’s so nice. You make me feel so good, my love.”



I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed the waistband of her panties and tried to jerk them over her hips, Mom smiling as I struggled to pull the uncooperative, wet fabric down to her thighs. Bracing her hands on my shoulders, she raised her bottom to assist me. Growling with impatience, I finally wrestled her soaking briefs past her knees and threw them into the pool with a small splash.



“Oh my, someone’s in a hurry,” Mom giggled.



Grinning, I pushed her thighs apart and dove in, opening my mouth wide to suck in as much of her succulent quim as I could, rolling my tongue over every inch of the flesh encompassed by my lips. Mom arched her back with a throaty moan and pushed herself against my face, hands fastening onto my ears.



“Ahh, God, Ricky. So good, please don’t stop, baby.”



Jesus, she tasted so good, I could hardly stand it. Her juice was at once tangy, salty and ever so slightly sweet, with an indescribable note of musk. It tasted like my lifeblood. I lapped, sucked, nibbled and probed everywhere I could reach with my tongue, spurred on to greater and greater efforts by Mom’s moans and sighs as I worked over her magnificent cunt, allowing myself to be directed to her favorite spots as she guided my head with her hands, fingers firmly gripping my hair. As her hands tightened and her thrusts against my face became more forceful, I slipped two fingers into her sopping channel, delicately questing for her special place. As I found the spot, she arched her back and pulled me in tightly.



“Oh, fuck, Ricky! Oh, yes, that’s it baby, right there!”



Mom began to lift her buttocks off the cement of the poolside, trying to increase her contact with my face, now moaning constantly. I bent to her clit, gently taking it in my lips, lightly flicking with my tongue, swirling over her nub. As her hip thrusts became more and more urgent, I began sucking with more strength, moving my hand within her slick passage, keeping my curled fingers in contact with her G spot. Abruptly, her thighs scissored strongly around my head and she jammed herself against my face, legs suddenly thrusting straight out and vibrating.



“Ahhhhh! Goddddd! Ricky! Baby! Yes, yes!” she cried in a tight voice, eyes tightly shut in a grimace of pleasure.



Then she was gushing on my mouth and I could barely keep up with her spending, trying to catch every luscious drop of her nectar as she spasmed against my face.



Gradually, her thighs relaxed and her hands unclenched from my hair, dropping down to stroke my ears and temples. Sighing, she pulled me close, head against her abdomen, caressing my cheek. “My sweet, sweet boy,” she murmured. “You really do love your momma, don’t you?”



Sighing in my own turn, I whispered, “There really aren’t words for how I feel Mom, so I can only show you,” planting soft kisses on her belly as I spoke.



“Wow, tiger,” she exhaled contentedly. “You are something else. I hope the neighbors didn’t hear anything. I came so hard, I think I pulled a muscle.”



“Tell me where it hurts and I’ll kiss your owee, Mom.”



“That would be dangerous. My ass is already raw from the concrete, you naughty boy.”



“I could definitely kiss that and make it much, much better.”



“Like you did in the kitchen Saturday morning?” She shuddered as she spoke. “I don’t know if I could take that right now. You have a wonderfully wicked tongue, son of mine.”



I heaved myself out of the pool and sat next to her and gave her a hug. “Like I said, Mom, I missed you.”



“I better make sure not to stay away more than a day, if this is how much you miss me after only nine hours. If I’m gone any longer, my welcome home would probably drive me insane with pleasure.”



“Would that be a bad thing, Mom? Being driven insane that way?” I asked teasingly.



“I guess there are worse fates for a mother, darling,” she giggled, kissing my cheek affectionately.



Slipping one arm around my waist, she snuggled in close under my shoulder, reaching into my lap with her other hand. Slipping her hand under the waistband of my shorts, she reached down and caressed my stiff shaft, drawing her fingertips up to my glans to rub my tip, smearing precum on the crown. I shuddered and leaned my head back. “Ahhhh, I love your hands, Mom. You know just how to touch me.”



“We can balance our accounts right now, if you want,” Mom said, licking her lips, “Or if you can wait until after dinner, I’ll repay you with interest.”



Groaning, I bit my lip as she continued to stroke me. “Oh God, I dunno, Mom. I guess I’ll wait.”



“A wise investment, lover boy. You won’t regret it, I can assure you.”



With considerable effort, I pushed myself back towards the mundane. “How about dinner, Mom? I was going to make a salad and flip a couple of burgers. That okay?”



“Perfect, Ricky. I’ll get changed while you fire up the grill.”



I picked up Mom’s blouse and skirt and followed her into the kitchen, my eyes glued as always to her swaying hips and magnificent dimpling ass as she made her way indoors.



I fixed our dinner quickly, my woody taking quite a bit of time to subside. Mom came down from her room just as I was putting the burgers together. One look at her and I was hard as armor plating again in ten seconds. She was wearing one of my old cut-off football jerseys, which extended only to slightly below her ribcage, along with a silky pair of skimpy, shiny white bikini panties, which only half covered her gorgeous cheeks.



As she moved, I could occasionally glimpse the undersurface of her breasts flashing out from the hem of my old shirt. The ginger thatch of her pubic hair was readily evident through the slightly transparent material of the front panel of the panties and I could see some hair spilling out above the waistband in a slight muffin top and on either side of the gusset. It was mesmerizing. I probably stood stock still for at least fifteen or twenty seconds, frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor.



“Close your mouth, sweetheart. Something might fly in.”



“Wow, Mom. You look so sexy. I love it.”



Glancing at my rapidly tenting shorts, Mom smiled. “Looks like two votes to me, Ricky.”



“Oh yeah, definitely. I don’t know what it is about a lady wearing her guy’s clothes, but there’s something about it that really floats my boat, Mom. I think that should be your relaxing at home uniform from now on.”



She stepped up to me and put her arms around my waist, leaning her head on my chest, rubbing her belly lightly against my erection. “I’m glad you like it. I love wearing your clothes, smelling you on them. It makes me feel close to you.”



I slipped my hands around to cup her buttocks and gave her a caressing squeeze. “Have I ever told you I love you?”



“Not in the last fifteen minutes.”



“Well, then, it’s time to remind you. I do, you know.”



“You can remind me whenever you feel it’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to forget.”



“I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”



As Mom hugged me, I heard and felt her stomach growl.



“Did you eat anything today, Mom?”



“Just a banana at breakfast and a cup of soup when I got to the office.”



“Insufficient quality and quantity for a growing girl,” I gently scolded. I took her hand and led her to the kitchen table. “Your burger and salad await. Would you like a glass of wine or something else to drink?”



“Actually a cold beer sounds good. Do we have any Sam Adams left?”



“Absolutely. In a glass?”



“Bottle’s fine, sweetie.”



While Mom dug into her dinner, I sat back, occasionally taking a bite from my own sandwich, picking at my salad while I watched her eat, a small smile on my face. After a while, she stopped eating and stared at me.



“All right, what’s up Ricky? You’ve barely touched you food. Surely it can’t be that interesting to watch me chew and swallow.”



“I just happen to like looking at you and besides, I didn’t see my girlfriend all day. I’m catching up.”



“You must be in a pretty bad way, if that’s all it takes to make you happy,” she quipped with a teasing tone.



“I’d be perfectly content to sit here for a couple of hours and watch you pick your nose.”



“Ricky! That’s gross! Well, maybe a little sweet too, but still gross. We’ll get you professional help first thing tomorrow, but in the meanwhile, eat your dinner before it gets cold.”



“Yes, Momma dear.”



After cleaning up the dishes, we went into the family room, cuddling on the sofa, paying semi attention to the TV. Mom sat in one corner, me in the middle, her legs draped across my lap. I massaged her feet and calves as we watched someone taking “B’ -ing an Author” for $800, Alex.



“Ahh, that’s heavenly, Ricky. You’re spoiling me to death.”



“Better get used to it, pretty lady. It’s going to be my main hobby in the future.”



As I continued, Mom heaved a contented sigh and settled back into the cushions, eyes half closed.



“Mom.”



“Mmmmmm?”



“Aren’t you going to tell me about your doctor’s appointment today? How did it go? Is everything okay?”



“I was wondering when you’d get around to asking me. Everything’s just fine, Ricky. You and I have a date for this Friday, lover.”



“For real, Mom?”



Mom swung her feet off my lap and stretched out, smiling gently as she regarded me.



“For real, Ricky.”



“Oh my sweet Jesus, I can hardly believe this is happening. My God, I think I’m losing my mind. I can hardly wait!”



“Believe it, son. It’s real – you and me, it’s as real as it gets.”



She reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me down to her side.



“C’mere, you bad boy. Momma needs a kiss.”



I was happy to oblige.



As we embraced, Mom smiled and pulled back from our kiss, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “Ricky, have I told you I love you recently?”



Smiling, I gave her a peck and replied, “Not in the last fifteen minutes or so, Mom.”



“I love you very much, Ricky.”



“So it’s not just my body?”



“Brat. You’re absolutely impossible.”



Kissing her back more intently, I replied “And you’re absolutely, heart-stoppingly beautiful, Mom.”



“It’s not true, but you’re turning my head anyway, sweet boy.”



Tracing her hand lightly down my chest, she slid it across my belly and under the waistband of my shorts, gently squeezing my perpetual erection.



“Do your sweet nothings have an ulterior purpose, my horny young man?”



“Never and always, sexy lady. I do seem to recall something about a debt to be repaid with interest, though.”



“I see. And now you’ve come to collect, I suppose.”



Slipping a hand underneath her jersey, I gently cupped her breast, lightly tracing my fingertip over the nipple, slightly flicking it. Mom sighed and arched her back to meet my hand as I caressed her.



“I do like to keep my accounts receivable in order, madam. You don’t want a past due notice, do you? The interest might be more than you can afford. I should also warn you that I personally collect on all my delinquent bills,” I said in a very formal, severe tone.



Pulling her shirt off over her head, I trailed kisses down from her neck to her breasts, sucking, licking and pulling lightly on her nipples with my lips. I alternated between the sisters for a good five or ten minutes, thoroughly nursing from each, Mom cradling my head with her hands as I suckled, murmuring encouragement and endearments. I slowly turned my attentions lower and lower, kissing and licking her navel as I ran a hand underneath the elastic of her panties and through her luxuriant thatch, seeking her sex, relishing the wiry, slightly scratchy texture of her pubic hair in my fingers as I searched. As I found her lips, I slipped my middle finger into her clinging moistness, drawing a gasp as I slid in as far as I could.



Quickly peeling her panties off her hips, I bent my head to her labia, gently licking up and down on either side, teasing close to her clit as I went from side to side, but never actually touching it.



Running her hands through my hair, Mom sighed. “Baby, that’s so nice, but it’s supposed to be your turn.”



“You don’t owe me anything, Mom. I just needed an excuse to get my mouth on your sweet pussy again. I could do this all day, you taste so good.”



“Mmmm. Ohhh god…you’re spoiling… me…rotten…again, young man,” she groaned.



Shifting away, Mom turned around, presenting her ass to me as she pushed my shorts down past my knees. Placing her knees above my shoulders, I reached around her, encompassing her back and flanks with my arms, pulling her dewy lips down to my mouth.



Pulling her close, I delved my tongue into her portal, my nose rubbing her perineum and rosebud as I licked and sucked. Mom moaned and then encircled my glans with her lips, swirling her tongue over my head as she sucked, gradually taking most of my length in, continuously sucking and milking as her mouth rode up and down my shaft.



We continued for some time, mouths on each other, literally savoring our time together, neither of us in any hurry to consummate our oral lovemaking. There was something about this particular moment that made us both want to prolong our giving pleasure to each other for as long as possible. It was sweet, slow and exquisitely intimate. Yet again, I was amazed at how we instinctively seemed to know exactly what the other needed and wanted at any particular moment.



Slowly, we began to increase our pace, Mom’s movements on my face and my thrusting into her mouth gradually picking up in intensity and speed as we rose towards our peaks. I began long, languorous licks from Mom’s clit back to her ass, delving into her pink asterisk with each passage. She moaned around my cock and began sucking furiously, keeping only my head in her mouth as her thighs began to contract spasmodically around my head. I could barely breathe, but I was in heaven as Mom suddenly clamped her thighs around my ears in a stiff, frozen vise, releasing her juices all over my nose and lips. Her intense release set me off as well, and I began firing off a seeming endless, pulsing stream of semen into her waiting, caressing mouth. I could sense her swallowing rapidly, trying to keep up with my flow as her trembling thighs slowly relaxed their grip on my head.

Finally, I had to catch my breath, pulling my face away from her sodden cunt, as she laid her head on my thigh, both of us panting with our exertions and sweet release.



I wormed my way out from under her, snuggling up to her back, taking her in my arms, showering her neck and spine with kisses. We lay together for some time, gradually catching our collective breath; Mom tightly nestled in my arms, spooned against me. From time to time, I would nuzzle her back or the nape of her neck, while she caressed my arms.



While we snuggled, I became hard against her ass again, but there was no sense urgency or burning need to start something going a second time. Mom acknowledged my recovery with the occasional gentle push and light grind back against my erection, but at the same time she traced her hands all over my upper body, more for the simple joy of affectionate contact than for purposes of stimulation. Every so often, she would take my hand and bring it to her lips for a warm, loving kiss. It was as though we were each divided in two, lovers below the waist and loving mother and son above. I reveled in the strange, wonderful duality of the sensations and feelings, which felt so completely, purely loving and gloriously erotic at the same time. As these emotions gradually fused together in my mind, they transported me to a place I had never been; a place that I never even knew existed before.



I was incredibly, acutely aware of every aspect of those few seemingly eternal minutes – the smell of our combined releases, our mingled tastes on my tongue, the lift and expansion of her ribcage against my encircling arms as I held her just below her breasts, the slight sweatiness and stickiness of our skin, her back to my front, the gentle sough of skin against the fabric of the couch as we slightly shifted our positions, the very faint sigh of the central air conditioning, an occasional drip of water into the kitchen sink, far-off outside noises of passing cars, distant lawnmowers and children playing in the cooling evening and the warm fragments of golden late light slanting through the blinds of the family room, dappling our bodies. It all melted together into an eternal, warm fusion of perfection. So sweet was the instant, I still remember it with greater clarity than almost any other memory of our time together.



As I grew older, I came to know that the Indonesians have a specific name for that sublime suspension of duration – “djam karet,” elastic time, the hour that stretches. If you are very, very lucky, you may experience such a moment once or twice in your life with your lover.



Mom stirred slightly, delicately tracing her fingertips across my forearms, raising goose bumps. The endless moment recompressed, time sweetly fracturing back into discrete seconds and minutes and we were mortal once again.



“Mmmmmm. That was wonderful, my sweet, sexy son.”



“Everything just keeps getting better and better, Mom. You’re my beautiful, gorgeous girl.”



“Pshaw, Ricky. You’re hardly an objective judge.”



“That’s the point, Mom. I freely admit my prejudice, in fact I embrace it,” I retorted, squeezing her for extra emphasis.



“I suppose I shouldn’t complain.”



“Darnn right, lady. You’re now stuck with me and my opinions.”



Mom paused for a minute, thinking, still running her hands over my arms.



“Ricky, about Friday. I want to ask you something.”



“Yeah?”



“How would you feel if I suggested that we cool it until then, sleeping in our own rooms, no touching, no hands, no lips, no masturbating?”



“Geez, I don’t know Mom. Do you really think waiting will make it better?”



“Actually, I do. I know it’s going to be very, very special anyway, but I think that if we agreed to step back just for a few days, it would be that much more intense. Besides,” she whispered wickedly, “When you come in me the first time, I want it to be your biggest load ever, lover boy.”



I was struck speechless by the raw desire and passion in her voice as she spoke. The unspoken promise and naked lust her words conveyed left me reeling for a moment.



“H…ho…holy shit, Mom,” I stuttered in shock. “Wow…just wow. You are unbelievable, Mom, absolutely unbelievable.”



“Did I shock you, my darling?” she laughed happily. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, handsome boy. This is what you get when you take a real, mature woman for your lover.”



“I think I just fell into the deep end of the pool, pretty lady – I just didn’t realize it until now,” I smiled. “I think I’ll be able to stay afloat, though. You have been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”



“I’ve thought of little else since Friday night, Ricky.”



“Putting it that way, I guess I could manage. I do have one condition, though.”



“I’m listening.”



“I’m not giving up any kisses or couch time before then.”



“I think we’ve got a deal, lover.”



***




It would be romantic to say that we had a sweet, smooth buildup until Friday, but I’d be lying through my teeth. By the time Thursday evening rolled around, we were both borderline psychotic. There were several times when snuggling on the couch or off-to-work kisses nearly turned into full meltdowns, but somehow we managed to make it through the first four days. We did have one disagreement when I wanted to call off from working at Louie’s on Friday evening, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it. While not exactly scolding me, she did make her point clearly.



“Ricky, honey, you made a promise to Louie. You can’t leave him in the lurch on such short notice. In any event, I have a late meeting in the City that I absolutely, positively cannot get out of. The earliest I could get home would be 7:30 or 8:00 anyway. As much as I would love to drop everything, it’s not possible. Besides, when you figure when I’ll get home, it’ll only be a couple more hours ’till you finish your shift.”



Kissing me gently, she ruffled my hair and smiled. “Remember son, in the future, we’re going to be continually busy in our day to day lives. It’s built into the nature of our careers. There’s always going to be something that will keep us apart from one another longer than we’d like. That’s the way it is with all couples. That’s real life. Please be patient sweetheart, we’re almost there,” she pleaded.



Groaning, I hugged her, burying my face in her hair, inhaling soap and sandalwood. “I hear you Mom, but God, it’s tough. I had no idea how difficult it would be. I can’t stand to have you out of my sight for more than five minutes anyway, but when you’re here, not being able to touch or hold you, it’s driving me totally insane.”



“I feel the same, Ricky. I’m no better off than you are – I’m aching to be with you too. Hang in there, big guy.”



I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how difficult Friday was. The tension between us was incredible. I think that the slightest intimacy would have set us both off in an explosion of uncontrollable lust. We settled for perfunctory kisses on the cheek as I sent Mom on her way in the morning and I immediately headed for the pool, swimming laps as hard and fast as I could for the better part of an hour. When I was done, I could barely haul myself out of the pool, I was so out of breath.



The rest of the day passed so slowly, it made continental drift look positively zippy. I eventually gave up, going into work a couple hours early. Helping with anything I could, sweeping, cleaning, doing mis en place, all served to take my mind off Mom.



In all honesty, I don’t think I could recount a single detail on my shift that evening, even if my life depended on it. I don’t think I screwed anything up in the kitchen, but beyond that, it’s all night and fog. I remember practically sprinting to the car, dropping my keys twice and cursing as I tried to get in the door. I also recall seeing a small post-it on the steering wheel when I got in.



It was in Mom’s neat pen and simply said, “Be careful coming home sweetie. Please, please don’t rush. Love, Mom.”



She must have snuck by in a cab earlier, I thought. It brought a smile to my lips that she knew me so well and I was touched that she took time out of her evening to think about me. I drove home somewhat more carefully for it, not breaking the speed limit too badly.



I was hollering the moment I walked into the kitchen from the garage.



“Mom! I’m home! Mom! Where are you?”



Her voice drifted down from upstairs, muffled by the closed door of her bedroom.



“I’m getting ready, Ricky. Get cleaned up and wait in your room, okay darling?”



Groaning inwardly, I replied in the affirmative and set about preparing myself. As I showered, I was so wound up I dropped the soap at least a half dozen times. It’s probably a good thing I had shaved before I left for work, because in the state I was in, I’d have been covered with nicks if I’d tried anything now. Eventually, I finished my preparations and sat waiting on my bed, each tick of my alarm clock tolling as slowly as the bells of the universe.



***




The moment had arrived and I was unaccountably, almost uncontrollably nervous. I was about to realize my fondest dream, but I had something equally important to do first, which I was actually more worried about botching than the sweet ecstasy which I knew was now mere minutes away. I was dressed only in the robe Mom had purchased for me on Sunday, a short, silk kimono-like robe in deep lustrous gray, which extended to my thighs. On the back there was an embroidered crane and the kanji ideograms for strength and courage. I was proud to wear the gift, but more anxious than anything else, as I toyed with the small parcel in my pocket. As the minutes dragged by, my anticipation and anxiety reached fever pitch. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that when the tapping on my door came, I almost jumped out of my skin.



“Are you ready, Ricky?”



Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, heart pumping like a locomotive, I opened my door.



There is no possible way that mere words can do justice to the vision that was before me in my doorway, but I will try, as best I can.



Her face was an archetype of simplicity and loveliness, eyes sparking in anticipation. She wore no makeup, except for the most minimal of lip gloss. Her hair had been brushed to a luster I had never seen before, framing her face perfectly. Her sensuous smile spoke volumes to me, promising amazing things, but at the same time conveying a depth of tenderness I had seldom, if ever appreciated in the past.



Wrapping her shoulders was a sheer, floor length gown of diaphanous white, as little substance as might be possible, but still containing the smallest weight of silken fabric. Her breasts were encased in a decadent but elegant push up bra, which was at once accentuating and coyly concealing, an amazing amalgam of white lace and smooth, shiny satin. The matching thong panties were equally astounding; a mostly transparent front panel with the merest hint of an overlaid pattern of abstract wave forms, stretching horizontally from the right hip to the center. As my eyes found their way to her center, I could see her magnificent reddish-blonde thatch, subtly trimmed, but still marvelously full and womanly. A small damp spot at the front of the gusset subtly hinted at the location of her succulent labia. Thigh high white stockings with drop-dead elegant lacy elastic tops completed the ensemble.



I reached up to touch her cheek, nearly speechless with emotion. “So beautiful,” I whispered. “My beautiful, beautiful mother.”



“I’m ready, lover. Are you?” she whispered, holding my hand against her cheek.



“Yes, Mom, almost. Wait just a second.” With that, I bent my knee and looked up to her face.



“Jennifer Marie, my love, my best friend, beloved mother, will you consent to take me, your loving son, as your man? I promise to stand by you through all times and trials, always faithful and doing only that which will bring you happiness and joy, for as long as I shall live.”



As I finished my proposal, I took her left hand in mine and slipped on the ring that was in my pocket.



Mom stood perfectly still, in complete shock, her right hand covering her mouth in involuntary surprise. Her eyes darted back and forth from my face to her left hand. Tears welled forth and ran down her cheeks as she raised me up and kissed me tenderly but passionately, mouth, cheeks, forehead and mouth again. She paused, framing her reply.



“Ricky, my son, my heart…I take you as my beloved lover, also promising faithfulness, joy and happiness for all our lives. I will always be at your side, in the best of times and the worst of times. I will never leave you, as long as I shall live.”



“If I may, I’d like to kiss my bride.”



“God help me, I love you so, Ricky!”



Our lips met, tenderly at first and then with increasing urgency and passion, tongues intertwined, giving, receiving, meeting and swirling together. I swept her up into my arms and she wrapped hers around my neck, continuing our kiss. I took her across the threshold of her bedroom and laid her gently on her back, breaking our lips apart. Climbing up beside her, I took her back into my arms, bending to rain kisses on her shoulders and chest, gently cupping her bra-clad breasts as I released them from their silken captivity.



“Oooooh, Ricky, please. I don’t want to wait. I’m ready now. I’m so ready.”



Hooking my fingers on either side of the waistband, I gently slipped the panties off her hips. As the gusset pulled away from her sex, I could see it was saturated, small threads of her essence stringing out from her nether lips as I slowly pulled downward over her thighs. Continuing southward, I gently disengaged the fabric from around her ankles and moved between her open legs. The moment was electric as I lowered myself towards her center, as hard as I’ve ever been in my life. I moved forward and down very slowly, until my tip was just touching her petals, never taking my eyes from her face.



“Here I am, Mom. I’m ready too, but I need to tell you something – you’re my first.”



With a wordless cry, Mom wrapped her arms around my neck, tears welling in her eyes. She lifted. I lowered. There was a brief moment of awkwardness and embarrassment as my first amateurish thrust glanced off the gate of heaven, but then Mom saved me with a warm, understanding smile and a nod, taking me in hand and guiding me home to paradise. Eyes completely focused on each other’s faces, we connected.



The mainspring of the cosmos snapped and all the wheels and gears of my existence ground to a halt. Causation, duration and sequence simply ceased to exist.



Even now, after a complete, very full life, I simply cannot do justice to the experience. My words are just the palest, weakest echo of the sensations and emotions I felt at that magical moment. Perhaps Shakespeare might have been able to convey what it was like, but that particular lover’s sonnet could never be committed to paper, for the emotions and sensations to be described are so forbidden, so intense, so overwhelming, that the very ink on the page would have taken fire, charring the parchment the verses were set upon to ashes in an instant.



As I slowly slid into the oily, silken furnace at her center, we both gasped as I bottomed out, my length fitting absolutely perfectly within her, barely grazing her cervix. The amazing vise of her sex was fully enveloping me in an exquisitely tight embrace and I sensed every millimeter of her interior contours, every tiny variation in pressure, as if her every breath and heartbeat was transmitted directly onto my member.



As unbearably dramatic as those sensations were, my emotions were a quantum level more intense. I was finally with the woman who I had loved my entire life, giving myself to her, taking from her, returning to my origins and sharing the deepest love two people can possibly have for one another.



Overlaid on all of this was the incredible feeling of leaving all boundaries, borders and conventions, all foundations of “normal” far behind us forever, deepening our union and tempering it to a strength that could never be broken.



The frisson of forbidden-ness, the willful breaking of an ultimate taboo was absolutely transcendant, lending an incredible illicit excitement to our coupling, which I knew in my very soul would endure throughout our lives, never, ever failing to excite us, uniting us in a unique bond. In that moment, the course of the rest of my life was completely defined, laid out on rails of the hardest steel, a path I would never, could never leave. I felt I was the luckiest man to ever walk the face of the earth.



“Oh, baby, oh my baby, my son. Yes, baby. That’s good, oh God, that’s so good, honey.”



“My God, Mom, oh my God,” I murmured, nearly speechless with pleasure and desire. “You feel so good, Mom. So good. I love you so much,” I whispered, voice trailing off to a plaintive whisper.



Lowering my head, my lips found hers, our tongues delicately, tentatively and then more urgently intertwining, thrusting against each other, foreshadowing our other movements. Our eyes never left each other. Reaching out, I intertwined my hands with hers, bringing them out to her sides. For a timeless moment, perhaps seconds, perhaps a lifetime, we lay together unmoving, joined in our moment of forbidden, illicit joy, feeling as one, breathing as one, forever changed.



Slowly, I withdrew, memorizing every moment of her moist grip, then bottoming out again with another exquisitely slow stroke, wanting to savor every second of our first incestuous union. Mom moaned and rocked her pelvis up to meet me.



“Ah, Ricky, you’re so big inside me, baby. So big, so hard.” Gently pulling my head towards her, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pressed her lips to my ears and whispered “Give it all to me, baby. Make love to your mother, Ricky.”



With the quiet exhortation echoing in my ears, I began to stroke in earnest, Mom matching my movement with her own sweet thrusting, slowly drawing her knees up, crossing her ankles behind my back. Showering her face with kisses, I increased my tempo, Mom responding in synchronicity.



I’d like to say that we moved together perfectly for hours, but of course that’s simply not true. After waiting nearly a whole week, I was out of my mind with excitement. It was awkward, a bit uncoordinated and over heartbreakingly quickly. Struggling to maintain my control, breath coming in ragged gasps, I strained mightily to prolong the moment, but it simply wasn’t to be.



Sensing my closeness, Mom circled her arms around me, drawing me close, her rock hard nipples scraping my chest. Her eyes absolutely aflame with forbidden lust, she pierced me with her gaze. “It’s okay, honey. Come for me baby, give me your cum, son. Mommy wants you to fill her with your love,” she whispered.



With those words, I lost any semblance of control and unleashed a series of pounding, disjointed thrusts as I felt my seed boiling forward to its release. With a final lunge, I pushed into Mom’s greedily clasping cunt, grinding my groin as tightly as I could with hers. As my orgasm erupted, I felt as though I was spraying molten bullets against the walls of Mom’s loving channel. “Ooooohhh, mygod, Mom! Cummminnnnnngggg innnnn youuuuuuuuuuuu!”



As my spending bathed her clasping sex, Mom crested herself, clamping her legs around my waist, thrusting herself up to meet my downward pinning as I ejaculated. “Ah! Rickie! Cumming! I’m cumming again! Oh! OH! OH! OH! Give me your cuuuuummmmm! Give me your baby!” she screamed.



Gasping with the intensity of our mutual climax, I collapsed onto Mom, hugging her tightly. I rained a shower of gentle kisses all over her face, then tenderly placed my lips on hers, slowly engaging her tongue with mine. Pulling back, I gazed into her eyes, lost in their deep blue pools, her returning stare showing absolute adoration. I overflowed with the perfection of the moment, my own eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, Mom…lover…Jenny Marie…I love you so much! You are my dream come true.”



Openly crying now, I cupped her face in my hands, stroking her cheeks ever so softly with my thumbs, wiping away her own tears.



Lowering my head to the crook of her neck, I murmured in her ear tenderly. “Forever, Mom. You’re mine forever now.”



Squeezing me back with a ferociously intense hug, Mom whispered back to me. “Forever, my son, my lover.”



We lay together silently for an undefined period of time, savoring the contact of every square inch of skin, breathing in unison, feeling our hearts beating together, exchanging the tenderest, sweetest kisses I have ever experienced.



“I’m sorry I was so quick, Mom. I really wanted it to be better for you,” I apologized sheepishly.



Mom rolled her eyes with mock exasperation and then smiled, hugged me tight and kissed me passionately, taking my head in both hands. “Sweetheart, you were fantastic. In case you didn’t notice, I came too. Boy, did I ever come, lover. I’m still waiting to get the license plate of the truck that hit me.”



She smiled gently and stroked my cheek. “It’s only going to get better, beautiful boy. I just know you’re going to be a marvelous lover, but I’ll still remember our first time until my last breath, baby.”



As the loop of wonderful recent memory replayed itself inside my head, I jolted visibly. Mom looked at me with concern.



“What is it, Ricky?”



“What you said, Mom…about a, a, baby?”



She smiled shyly and blushed. “If it were possible, how would you feel about it?”



“Oh, Mom…of all the things I want to share with you, for us, for our lives together, I can’t believe you want this too. It’s another dream come true. God, I want it so bad, I can taste it!”



Mom gave me another passionate, burning kiss. “It’s my dream too, sweetheart. I always wanted more than one child, and I so want for you to experience that joy with me. Besides,” she added wickedly, “It makes me so happy and it makes me sooo fucking wet to think about my own son making me pregnant!”



“So, when you went to see your gynecologist on Monday…”



“That’s right, Ricky. It wasn’t to start the pill – it was to make sure it was safe to get pregnant again.”



Mom brushed my hair out of my eyes and smiled sweetly. “Do you remember what I told you last week, darling, after you made me cum with those wonderful fingers?”



Recalling her request, I felt myself begin to harden again immediately.



Lasciviously thrusting her pelvis up to me, squeezing my rapidly reviving cock in her creamy, velvet vise, Mom said, “I’m fertile right now. It’s time to give your Momma a baby, you handsome motherfucker.



I groaned with lust. “Oh, yes, Mom! I’m going to fuck you so good, I’m going to make you scream. Your son is going to fuck your brains out now, just like you asked. I’m going to give you all my cum and knock you up!”



“Fuck me now, baby, fuck me real good. Make your Mommy pregnant!”



With that, we began our movements together again. Where our first coupling was sweet and filled with tenderness, our joint effort was now suffused with a red-hot alloy of unbridled fuck-lust and the knowledge of our ultimate, primal goal.



As before, the illicit excitement of our forbidden, incestuous consummation lurked in the background, but was now elevated to new, delirious heights of delicious wickedness, surpassing any and all civilized conventions. The knowledge of what we were setting out to do added an incendiary passion to our runaway desires.



Fiercely clutching Mom’s ass, I raised her off of the bed to meet my lunging thrusts. Simultaneously, she wrapped her legs around me, locking her ankles at the small of my back, pulling my ass towards her center with both hands, her fingernails drawing red furrows up my ass cheeks, as she sought to pull every millimeter of my length into her sweet, tight sex.



“Oooohhhh, Ricky,” she crooned. “You feel soooo goooood. Give me all of that wonderful cock!”



“God, Mom, so hot, soooo tiiight! Sooo goood!”



“Harder, Ricky! Fuck your Mommy harder!”



Our flesh came together loudly, combining with the wetness of our first union to produce a timeless, erotic symphony of sounds; the slap of thigh against thigh, small exhalations and exclamations of pleasure, the squeaking complaints of the bedframe beneath us, the unique moist suction and thrusting of man and woman, fusing together into one entity. On the heels of my first orgasm, I felt powerful, able to sustain my pace indefinitely. Never taking our eyes off one another, we increased our tempo.



We continued together, moving in lusty harmony until suddenly, Mom stiffened against me, clamping me even tighter with her thighs, as another impending climax caught her by surprise.



“Oh, Godalmighty, Ricky! Oh fuck! I’m cumming again!” she wailed. “Cumming! Ohhhh shit….so good, making Mom cum, lover!”



Flushed with her efforts, sweat standing out on her brow, she reached up to cradle my face with both hands, kissing me with unrestrained passion. Overcome with exertions, she broke her kiss to catch her breath, a gooey string of saliva connecting our lips as we regarded each other. Panting like an oxygen-starved climber, Mom gasped out “Oh God, don’t stop darling. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuck me forever Ricky!”



Spurred on to a new plateau by Mom’s passion, I began to add a twisting motion to my lunges. Mom responded with a series of gasps, biting her lower lip in concentration, absorbing the new sensations as I plowed her sugar channel. She began whipping her head from side to side, moaning. “Oh, Ricky, my son! My son! Mommy’s gonna come big! Oh God, lover, take me there!”



With that, I put Mom’s legs over my shoulders, curling her into a ball beneath my pounding assault on her pussy, straining to give her every millimeter of my flesh. Slipping my hands underneath her to clutch her cheeks, I watched her face intently, savoring every little moan, every shudder, each coo of pleasure as she worked towards her climax. Then, suddenly I could feel my seed rising and felt myself swelling to the bursting point within her divine passage. With a final, desperate lunge, I buried myself to the hilt, almost pushing her off the bed with the strength of my thrust, as I fiercely pinned her ass to the mattress.



“Mom! Mom! MOM! Cumming in you! OH, MOM!” I roared.



As I ejaculated, I felt as though the very blood was boiling out of my body, as I bathed her insides with gout after gout of hot semen. The pleasure was so intense and the climax so prolonged that it bordered on exquisite pain. It almost seemed as though the force of my spending should propel her right off of my pulsating shaft.



With the first rope shooting inside her, Mom’s eyes opened as wide as I have ever seen them and her mouth formed into a silent scream of incredulous release, which gradually rose into a banshee wail of absolute ecstasy, leaving my ears ringing as her velvet walls contracted around me. I knew in that instant, with the certainty of my heart, with that orgasm, that Mom was surely now pregnant.



I think I actually passed out from the intensity of our orgasms, because the next thing I remember is her arms around me, as I lay completely innervated on her heaving chest. Rolling on to my side, I gathered her in my arms as our breathing gradually returned to normal. Tears running from her eyes, Mom shook and shuddered as I held her close, unable to speak from the intensity of her release. Gradually, her tears ebbed and she caught her breath, still in my arms, except for an occasional, endearing hiccup as I stroked her hair. Turning her face to mine, we shared a deep, tender kiss and both began to speak at once.



“Ohh, Ricky” “My God, Mom…”



Laughing, I hugged her. “You were saying, Mom?”



“Ricky, my son, as I live and breathe…” she choked with emotion again and cried a little more, then as I wiped her cheeks, she laid her head on my chest, softly murmuring. “There are no words, nothing I can say except I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!”



Tracing her cheek and jaw lightly with my fingertip, I replied, “That’s enough for me, Mom. It’s all I’ll ever need to hear from you.”



While we held each other, we seemed to alternate between Mom snuggling under my arm and her holding my head against her breasts, stroking my hair. It was sensuous and loving, more than sexual, as I rested my head against her fleshy, soft pillows. I idly toyed with the idea of taking one of her nipples into my mouth, but in the end, I let the moment pass and simply enjoyed the feelings and sensations. As I lazily soaked it all in, I realized that even though my fondest dream and greatest fantasies had finally come true, I was only bobbing on the surface of an ocean of unknown depth. The expanse and complexity of our new love was only now beginning to reveal itself and I was becoming pleasantly overwhelmed as I looked forward into our future together.



***




We lay together for a long time, silent, simply holding one another, luxuriating in the moment, each occasionally heaving a sigh of utter contentment. We drifted off together for a while, in each other’s arms. Some unknown time later, I woke suddenly. It was pitch black outside, the only sound a rustling of the trees around the house as a night breeze blew. The bedside alarm blinked 1:39.



What had awakened me was Mom shifting her weight in bed. She had thrown the covers back, straddling my thighs as I lay on my back. Reaching down as she centered her pelvis over mine, she swabbed my rapidly engorging cock against her lips, drawing it up and down her furrow, shuddering as it passed over her clit. She placed me at her opening and then sank down onto my cock with a long groan, taking me all the way into her depths in one searing, liquid stroke. “Oh God, Ricky! You feel so nice inside me, my love. This is where you belong, son.”



“I’ll never leave, Mom. Never. Not ever.”



Reaching under me to grasp my buttocks, she smiled warmly and pulled me up tightly and closely, whispering to me. “I’ll never let you go, darling.”



“Ahh, Mom, you are so wet, so hot! So tight, so good,” I moaned.



She leaned over to kiss me, driving her tongue into my mouth, seeking me urgently. Her hardened nipples brushed against mine as she broke our kiss, a string of saliva stretching out between our lips as she pulled away. Looking me in the eye, she sighed plaintively. “I was a fool, my son. I made you wait so long, when you should have been in my bed years ago. We were meant to be together and I couldn’t let myself see it. Please forgive me,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.



I wiped her tear away with my thumb and pulled her face back to me, kissing her gently. “That’s ancient history now, Mom. The only thing that matters now is this minute and all the minutes ahead of us, gorgeous lady.”



Taking her head in my hands, I looked intently into her still moist eyes. “No more looking back, Mom. No recriminations, no regrets, okay?”



She sniffled once and then smiled. “Yes, my son…my lover.”



Lifting my head, I captured one of her nipples in my lips, sucking, caressing the hard bump with my tongue, and rolling its sister between a thumb and finger, lightly pinching. Mom arched her neck, moaning throatily before bending over to watch me suckle. “Oh god, baby. Yesss. Suck Mommy’s tits some more! That’s so good!”



I began to alternate my mouth between her nipples, very lightly running my teeth over them, sucking, tongue flicking quickly, occasionally pausing to pull as much tit flesh as I could into my mouth, sucking hard. This caused Mom to moan and arch her back, forcing her tits back to my face. As I lavished attention on her nipples, she began to slowly move up and down on my shaft, squeezing me with her sex. “My god, Mom! How do you do that? It feels wonderful, ” I groaned.



Smiling lasciviously, she sat up straight, lowering herself completely onto me. Not moving, she let her full weight rest on my hips, squeezing me with her internal muscles, hands resting on my abdomen, eyes fixed on mine. “So, you like it when Mommy milks your cock with her pussy? You like it when I squeeze your big dick this way?” she teased, her question coinciding with a strong contraction.



“Oh God, Mom…it’s heaven,” I groaned.



“Mmmmmm, Ricky, you fill me so nicely. I’ll never, ever get enough of your cock.” She began to slowly move up and down on my hardness, squeezing as she rose, leaving only my tip inside her glorious wetness, and then quickly slapping down onto my thighs. She continued this motion for many minutes, up and squeeze, down with a slap, slowly increasing her pace, now biting her lip, grunting slightly at the bottom of each stroke on my throbbing cock.



“Oh, baby. Oh! You’re so good inside me. I could do this – ahhh – forever. God, yes! Your cock feels fantastic. I don’t ever – ahh – want to stop fucking you! Ahh, yes!”



Mom quickly shifted her position to squat over me, grabbing my flanks to stabilize herself. She began to move up and down rapidly, her ass slapping firmly my thighs with each down stroke on my cock. Soon she was moving so quickly that I couldn’t even rise up to meet her with my own strokes. Just as I began to spurt inside her, she went over the edge, eyes rolling up into her head as I felt her spasm around me.



“Oh! OH! OH! Ricky! Honey! Yes! YES! YESSS!”



Suddenly Mom rose off my cock, falling forward onto her knees and elbows, her face a grimace of ecstasy, eyes rolling back in her head. Her entire body was thrusting and shaking with uncoordinated, involuntary fucking movements as she sprayed her release all over the bed and my belly and thighs, her spend mingling with mine as I continued to ejaculate into the air.



The sight was so amazing, so absolutely carnal I could barely believe what I was seeing. Then it happened. I came again! Without warning, I felt an enormous contraction in my pelvis, beginning near my ass and spreading through to my cock and balls. I tightened up so much I thought I would cramp every muscle in my body and then I sprayed a monster load all over Mom’s belly and the sheets, screaming her name again and again. The next thing I remember is Mom collapsed on top of me, both of us heaving huge, struggling breaths, our skins slippery with sweat, thighs, bellies and groins slick and oily with our combined fluids.



It was probably at least five minutes before either of us was coherent. It was all could do to hold her in my arms, kissing her as she sobbed against my chest, overwhelmed by the intensity of her orgasm. Gradually, she calmed down, eyes closed, her breathing becoming quiet and regular. I rolled on to my side, gently depositing her next to me. She opened her eyes and reached out to grab my face with both hands, kissing me passionately. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve never come like that in my entire life, Ricky! My God, what you do to me, my lovely boy!



She kissed me again, more tenderly this time, running her hands through the hair at my temples. “I told you that you’d get better, didn’t I, son?”



Mom smiled and kissed me again, hard. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this, lover. If this is what you do to me after only your third time with a woman, there’s no hope – I’ll go insane with the pleasure you give me, darling.”



“Not if you fuck me to death first, Mom. Do you know you gave me a multiple orgasm? I was so turned on, I came again right away when you sprayed all over us. It was so intense, it hurt! Anyway, I can think of worse ways to depart this mortal coil.”



Mom shuddered and spoke softly and seriously. “Don’t ever talk like that, Ricky, even in jest. I don’t want to even think about what life would be like without you. If anything happened to you, I’d die instantly from a broken heart.”



Her eyes began to well up again. Scowling and brusquely wiping her tears away with the heel of her palm, she shook her finger under my nose.



“Look at what you do to me you bad b…no,” she paused. “No, not a boy any more, very definitely not a boy,” she said, talking to herself. She took in a deep breath. “Look at what you do to me, you bad, bad man. You are most certainly all grown up now and you have stolen my entire heart away, so please handle it with care.”



I smiled and kissed her back. “You do a pretty good line of sweet talking too, Mom. Sons always know that they are forever their mother’s ‘boys.’ Some guys have trouble with that, but I never will. I know you love me and that’s all that really matters. It’s okay to call me whatever you want.”



Mom laughed delightedly and tweaked my nose. “How about Englebert?”



“Whatever floats your boat, Gertrude.”



We laughed together and continued with some silly kissyface for a while, whispering ridiculous endearments to one another, our kisses gradually becoming more lingering and insistent. Mom jerked in surprise when my erection began growing again against her leg. She slipped her hand between my thighs, gently stroking my resurgent cock, eyes widening in surprise. “Sweet Jesus Ricky, already? You can’t be serious.”



Slipping my arms around her, I grinned and replied, “I can and I am, dollface. That’s what you do to your son, mother dear. I have eight years of catching up to do.”



As I was speaking, I pulled her on top of me, reaching around to cup her buttocks in both hands, squeezing and kneading. I then rolled her over to the other side of the bed onto her back. As I moved on top of her, her eyes widened and she shrieked. “Oh shit, Ricky! Let me up! Let me up!”



I quickly rolled away from her as she shot up from the bed, moving back on top of me, shivering. “Jesus, Mom! Are you okay? What’s the matter?”



She buried her head in the crook my neck, blushing in acute discomfort. “The wet spot, Ricky. It’s very cold and so…so damn huge – I’m so embarrassed!” she wailed.



“Mom.”



“Listen to me, Mom.”



“Mom, c’mon, listen to your son, listen to your lover.”



“It’s more than okay. Don’t you know how much it excites me? Do you know how it makes me feel, that I can make you do that? It makes me so proud and horny I can hardly stand it. And you know what? I absolutely adore that you can come that way. It’s perfect, just perfect. It’s tangible proof of how much I turn you on. I would never, ever lie about something like that.”



I started to tickle her sides a little bit, making her squirm, whispering in her ear. “King size mattress pad, $90, new 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, $200, custom goggles with built-in wipers, $400, my Mom-lover squirting all over my mouth and face – priceless.”



Mom began shaking with laughter. She drew her head up to look at me, then thrust out her lower lip and exhaled, puffing away a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “I love you, son,” she giggled. “You know just what to say to your neurotic old Mom.”



“And I love you, Mom. And for the last time, you are not to use the ‘o’ word around me any more, capisce? If I ever hear it again, a spanking will be in order. Now, tell you what. We’ll change the sheets quickly and grab a shower, okay?”



“Okay.”



We stripped the mattress in short order and put on the new bedding. I led Mom into the shower and washed her gently and very thoroughly, with lots of kisses and then she returned the favor. After we crawled back under the covers, I pulled her close.



“Mom, I want to tell you about a dream I had. It happened the night we went out to celebrate my graduation.” I went on to recount my memories of the evening, watching the movie together, sitting together on the couch, and most importantly of all, her kiss. “So I went to bed and had a really har…er, difficult time falling asleep. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things had finally changed that night.”

“What was in the dream, Ricky?”



“I saw us together on a rocky beach. We were sitting on a big log that washed up on the shore and we were eating a picnic. It was very, very real, down to the sounds of seabirds and the smell of the ocean. We were holding hands, watching four children play by the surf. They were ours, Mom, all of them. There was no doubt, no question. It just was. Three girls and a boy.”



” ‘I have been versed in the reasonings of men, but Fate is stronger than anything I have known,’ ” Mom whispered.



“What’s that, Mom?”



“Benefits of a classical education, Ricky. That’s Euripides.” She shivered and snuggled closely into my arms. “I had a dream also,” she said hesitantly. “It was the night of July 4th. I think I went to bed that night whispering in the tiniest voice to my secret heart that we were going to become lovers. I was still frightened out of my mind and very unsure. I was trying really hard to keep some control of the pace of things, as if that would somehow make it easier to make that final decision,” she chuckled wryly. “It was still incredibly difficult. Do you know I went to your room that night?”



“You did?!” I exclaimed incredulously.



“I was so excited I could barely lie down. I ‘stirred the honey pot” twice, as you are so fond of saying, but I just couldn’t relax. I came in around 2 am. I must have stood at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep for at least fifteen minutes. I just couldn’t find the courage to climb under the covers with you. In the end, I went back to my room and had a good cry over my indecision and lack of resolve and then fell asleep.”



“Wow, and I thought I was having a tough time. I have to tell you Mom, I don’t know if I’m just your typical oblivious male, or you’re a great poker player, but I had no idea. You seemed so poised, so confident through everything, right up to the day you left for Vancouver…”



“Well, as I said, I had my own dream. After I cried myself to sleep, you came into my room, naked. You kissed me all over, dried my tears and held me and said, ‘It’s time, Jenny. I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.’ Then you made love to me. You were gentle, tender and comforting and then you absolutely, completely and utterly fucked the shit out of me. Every possible thing a man and woman can do together, we did. I had a screaming orgasm that woke me up, and when I did wake up, I was coming for real.”



“I felt so good after that climax, Ricky, it was unbelievable. I was relaxed, I was as sated as if we’d really done it. If I hadn’t been such a stupid, stubborn fool, if I had had my wits about me then, I would have realized that was my heart telling me it was okay, that we were going to be good together and that things would work out. Eventually they did, but not before we nearly blew it all up.”



“Well, now you know how I held onto my sanity through the summer, Mom. My dream was a life preserver. It gave me hope for our future.”



“And here we are, son. Fate is strong for us.” She rolled back on top of me, kissing me deeply. “Now, we need to do something about populating your dream beach.”



So we did. We made love one more time, slowly, quietly, this time our climaxes a sweet, gentle release, putting our doubts and fears behind us once and for all. We slept deeply and dreamlessly.



***




I swam back to consciousness with golden sunlight streaming through the half open bedroom window, curtains lightly stirring in the morning breeze. The quiet buzz of a nearby lawnmower filtered through my thoughts and I could faintly smell fresh cut grass on the breeze. Our neighborhood was waking up. The quintessentially normal sights, sounds and smells of the outside world perversely reinforced my own state of mind.



Weeds still were being pulled, newspapers delivered and garbage put out, but Mom and I were together at last! The world went on its merry, oblivious way, but now we were lovers! It was delicious beyond words that I could see Gordy Townsend across the backyard fence on his John Deere and he had no idea that he was now living next door to a real, honest to God motherfucker!



I was on my side, facing Mom, her thigh thrown over mine. She was breathing deeply and slowly, a faint smile on her lips, still fully in slumber. Her hair was sexily disarrayed, bangs spilling carelessly over her forehead, her lips slightly parted, appearing totally at peace. For a long while I simply looked at her, taking in every detail, from the tiny freckles on her chest to the fine laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, the faintest hint of delicate blonde hairs on her upper lip and the rhythmic flare of her nostrils as she inhaled and exhaled. God, she was so beautiful, I could hardly stand it. I didn’t think it was possible to love her any more than I already did, but now, in the aftermath of our first incestuous couplings, I knew in my very bones that she fully and freely owned me, body and soul, now and forever.



Corporeal necessity eventually raised its ugly head, interrupting my devoted thoughts in the form of a very full bladder and monstrous morning wood. Very slowly and carefully, I disengaged from Mom, gently turning her on to her back as I prepared to get up. She stirred slightly, mumbling my name and then slipped back into sleep.



Finishing my business in the bathroom with some difficulty, I walked quietly back to the bed, standing at its foot, watching Mom, now flat on her back with her legs open, her forearm cast across her forehead and eyes. The slow movement of her perfectly proportioned breasts mesmerized me as she breathed in and out. Looking downward, I could see her sex was still moist with our combined fluids, the lips slightly swollen, probably from the evening’s tender abuse and her own residual arousal. Her magnificent thatch was slightly crusted with our previous evening’s spendings. I knew then exactly how I wanted her to awaken to the first day of our new life.



Lowering myself carefully onto the mattress, I inched my way up between her legs. Pausing briefly, I inhaled the intoxicating aroma of our evening’s passion and then bent to my task. Slowly and deliberately, I began to lick around her labia and her mons, reveling in the taste of our mingled flavors as I cleansed every visible inch of her delta. Gradually centering my attentions to her opening, I delved deeply and firmly. Still in twilight, she murmured something unintelligible under her breath, stretching slightly, and then slowly arched her pelvis in response, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Increasing the intensity and frequency of my ministrations, I began to alternate between her opening and pearl of pleasure, lightly sucking and swirling my tongue over her hood, occasionally covering as much of her sex as I could with my mouth, sucking strongly. She stirred again, more vigorously and purposefully this time, rubbing herself against my face, hands now reaching down to entwine her fingers in my hair.



Trailing her hands down to caress my ears and temples, she awoke fully. “Oh, God, lover. What a way to wake up,” she moaned.



Grasping her thighs in my hands, I pushed them up on to her abdomen, widening my access to her pussy. Concentrating my attentions on her hood, I began to tease with the tip of my tongue, alternating between light vibrations and firm presses until her clit began to emerge.



“Oh, that’s heavenly, Ricky. Lick mommy some more.”



Increasing my pace, I felt Mom’s fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me strongly inward. She began to thrash her head from side to side, thrusting herself against my tongue.



“Ah, so good darling. So good, yes,” she murmured. Her words slowly faded into an escalating series of sighs and groans and her hands began to clench tightly in my hair as she pulled my face fiercely into her sex.



Abruptly, I was saturated with her nectar as she thrashed against my lips and nose. Slowly, reluctantly, she relinquished her grip on my hair, hands sliding down to stroke my face as she sighed in her ecstasy. The taste and bouquet of her release was exquisite, an intoxicating elixir of my previous presence, her musk, sweet saltiness and a piquant sharpness, which was totally addicting to me. I felt as though I was mainlining the distilled essence of love and lust.



Planting a final kiss and tongue caress on the object of my desire, I moved to her side, taking her into my arms and kissing her tenderly.



“Love you so much, Mom.”



“Love you back, sweet son. My God, how on earth did you acquire such a wicked tongue? You fly me to the moon every single time you eat me – it’s just incredible.”



“Do you really want to know? I’ll tell you if you want.”



“Hmmmm, sounds like I’m sailing in dangerous waters, Ricky. Is there something you don’t want me to know?”



“No way, Mom. No secrets between us, ever. Anything you want to ask, I’ll answer.”



She paused in thought for a few moments, appearing to consider her words. “Last night, you said it was your first time…and yet… and yet, you have the most fantastic tongue and fingers I’ve ever felt. You know exactly how to send me right over the edge.”



“Well, Mom, I guess I have a little confessing to do, but maybe not in the way you think. When I used to jerk off watching my mom-porn…”



“Ricky! Mom-porn?!”



I laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, Mom-porn. I had gigabytes of it. If it was on the web, involved an older woman and a younger man and if the woman looked at all like you, I had it. Anyway, I didn’t just beat off. I studied, especially the homemade, amateur stuff. I paid attention to what got those women off, what made them moan the loudest and come the hardest. I always imagined it was me making you feel that good, making you come. Every time I jerked off, in my mind I wasn’t coming unless you were too.”



“I had no idea I was sleeping with a scholar of mother fucking. I guess I have to give you an ‘A’ for that homework assignment.”



“I’m so glad my ‘research’ ended up having real world applications, Mom.”



Stroking her hand along my arm and gliding over my chest, she raised gooseflesh. “So, did you have a favorite, a number one best fantasy video?”



“Yes, I did.”



“Can I see it, Ricky?”



“Sure, if you really want to.”



“Go get your laptop and we’ll watch it here, together.”



I padded back to my bedroom, disinterred the infamous flash drive from my closet and grabbed the laptop. We laid down next to one another on our stomachs, computer in front of us, my arm around Mom’s shoulder, hers around my waist, idly wandering, occasionally tracing the curve of my ass cheeks.



Giggling, she squeezed my butt. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in bed naked with my son, watching porn!”





I can’t believe I just spent the last twelve hours making love with my mother, doing my best to get her pregnant.”



Mom gave me an affectionate hug and kissed my cheek, chuckling, “Well, there is that, isn’t there? It does tend to put watching smut in perspective, I suppose.”



I found the video easily and launched it. Mom leaned forward, attention raptly focused on the screen, squeezing my waist in anticipation.



The movie began with shaky camera movements, the scene madly sweeping around from floor to ceiling, moving in and out of focus as the light went from near pitch black to massively blown out. Eventually, the scene stopped shaking, the camera finally being placed on a stable surface.



The setting was what appeared to be a stereotypical suburban bedroom, a queen size bed with a garish, colorful quilt and duvet and straight-from-Ikea bedframe, headboard and dressers. By the furnishings, it seemed that the video was probably five to ten years in the past. The room was suffused with soft, low light, filtered through thin, gauzy, slightly dingy, partially drawn curtains.



A woman’s face appeared briefly, peering into the lens. Minor adjustments to the camera position were made, centering it on the bed. Th