Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author; Bigby Title; Mother again Synopsis; His manipulative Mother won't
tolerate another woman in his life. Story codes; M/F, M/f, incest, etc.
More Bigby stories at; /~Bigby/Index.htm and;
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Bigby/ in plain text I sure do appreciate
getting some mail back; bigbystories@hotmail.com



   This is a sequel to "mother and I", which I wrote some years ago.
Although it is by far the most read of my stories, I never get any mail for
it.  Perhaps these fantasies are too dark to talk about.

   Mother again; "I really like your mother, I think she's such a nice
woman." I felt a great relief; I had been very hesitant to introduce my new
girl to Mom. "I'm glad you two got along so well." I said; we were
approaching the house where Brigitte lived with her own parents.  I was 22,
but Brigitte was just 19. "And I like how close you are with her; that's so
rare these days." I doubted she would have thought so much of us if she
knew how close my mother and I really were. As I stopped the car, we kissed
briefly.  Then she ran inside. She was about as opposite my mother as
another female could be; tall and blond where mom was short and brunet. 
Simple and straightforward, where mom was complex and manipulative. I'd
never seen Brigitte in makeup or even a dress; she was T-shirts and denim,
where mom was meticulously in fashion.  Simple and unadorned, while mom was
always painted to perfection, bedecked in jewelry, each hair arranged. 
Brigitte never wore heels, Mother always did.

   "She seems like a nice girl, Marty." Mother said.  "How long have you
been seeing her?" "Just for a couple of weeks." "I see." There was silence;
a slightly disapproving silence. "It didn't take you very long." She said.
"What do you mean?" "After we decided we'd see other people.  You started
going out with her almost immediately." "You were already seeing Stanley."
"Don't be jealous, Marty.  You know I don't like it." Mother said.  "Have
you had sex with her yet?" "No." "I didn't think so.  She's a bit of a
dike, isn't she?" "What you mean?" "Gay.  Homosexual; she seems like a girl
who would rather be a boy." "I don't think so, Mother." "Did you kiss her
goodnight?" "Yes, of course." "Like this?" Mother put her arms around my
neck, pressed her body against mine, and pushed her lips against my mouth.
Her tongue came sliding in, darting around my cheeks and gums, as if
searching for anything that might be hiding in there. Her slim curvaceous
body moved against me, in her irresistible way.  I felt my prick began to
inflate. Her mouth pulled away, and she looked up into my eyes lazily.
"Well?" "No, not like that." I admitted. Mother laughed; "Come on, let's go
to bed." Mother is 46; the kind of 46-year-old woman that still turns
heads. She still wears short skirts, because she still can.  It's sometimes
been difficult, growing up in her shadow. She split up with my dad when I
was young, and there had been many boyfriends and lovers since. And then,
we were thrown together one lonely night during my freshman year, our
inhibitions were momentarily down; I had sex with my own mother. She's too
strong for me, too charismatic.  She wanted to do it again, and again; she
wouldn't let me go.  I moved back into her house.

   Knowing what was expected of me, I undressed and climbed into my
mother's bed.  She watched with her usual bemused smile, and then slowly
undressed herself. Mother has an amazing figure for a woman her age.  Her
breasts are still full, yet her hips are slim.  She's got great legs
[although slightly short], and even her ass is still presentable.  But the
thing Mother has that separates her from other women is her sexiness; every
move she makes, every gesture, every look, everything about her is sexy.
Mother can't change the TV channel without being sexy.  It's partly
contrived, and partly just how she is. So as she slowly rolled her
stockings down her legs, I couldn't help but enjoy watching. As she arched
her back, and unhooked her bra, I had to admit that it would be mighty hard
to find a woman who could save me from her.  I wished I'd had sex with
Brigitte; perhaps I' d have the strength to refuse my randy mom if I could
just get someone I really cared for into the sack with me. Mother slid into
bed, and fitted her hot little body against me.  She put her arms around
me, one under my head and the other under my armpit.  She stroked my back
and kissed me again, she reached down and took my cock in her hand. "Sexy
sexy boy." She whispered, "My well endowed son." She stroked my cock and
kissed me for a while; I stroked her silky back, enjoying her voluptuous
curves as the guilt and shame of what we were doing was slowly replaced by
simple lust.  Mother's familiar fingers tickled my stiff cock, her generous
soft breasts pressed against me.  After a while, she pushed me over onto my
back and mounted me. Mother is tighter than anyone I've ever known.  She
looked down and me and laughed, causing her breasts to wobble and her hair
to bounce.  I felt her squeezing my cock with her strong vaginal muscles;
Mother did special exercises. She held both my hands, and lifted her body
up and down over my penis.  She smiled and then laughed again; Mother does
love to do it. After awhile, I rolled her over so I was on top; I gave it
to her as hard as I could without coming. Mother had her orgasm, cooing and
crying, kissing me and clutching my ass.  Despite my conflict about fucking
her, I do love the way Mother comes; she's just so intense.  My dick was
like iron as I pounded her sexy little frame, while she twisted and
squeezed against me, stroking my back and ass with her long manicured
nails. At last I could bear it no longer; I pumped my slime into her, the
way she likes it. "You're so good Marty." She whispered happily. She rested
her head on my shoulder as we slept.

   "Of course she's gay, Marty." Mother said over breakfast, "Didn't you
see the way she was flirting with me all evening?" "No." "You're so naive,
Marty.  Invite her over again in a couple of days, and I'll show you."

   I was preparing dinner for Brigitte, Mother, and myself, when Mother
asked me to give her a hand in the spare bathroom.  Brigitte hadn't arrived
yet. "Hold on to that panel while I unscrew it." She said.  Mother is the
only person I've never seen use power tools in high heels and stockings. I
had never figured out what that panel was hiding; it had always been there.
Like the bathroom itself, it seemed out of place. After I carried it out
into the hall, I came back to the bathroom.  Behind where the wooden panel
had been, was a window.  A window into my mother's bedroom.  The back of my
mother's bedroom mirror. "Your father put this in, before you were born."
She told me.  "You'd better get back into the kitchen." The implications of
the window slowly dawned on me; the '70s, free sex.  Partner swapping; my
mother and father had been doing strange things before my birth.  Probably
after my birth, as well. Of course it made sense, mother had always been
that way.  Sexually bent, I mean.  She hadn't just suddenly become a
pervert; she had been one for a long time. Mother sashayed into the
kitchen. "Now after we eat, I'll phone from my cell; you answer, and
pretend it's your father.  You say his car's broken down, and you have to
go out to help him.  Then you creep back in, and hide in the spare
bathroom." "Mother..." "Now don't argue with me, Marty.  I said I would
prove it to you, didn't I?  You just do as I say." "Yes, mother."

   I keep promising myself that I won't let mother manipulate me anymore;
but then I find my life wrapped around her fingers again, as she plays me
like a toy. It so difficult to go against her, and so easy to capitulate.
Mother is a clinical physiologist, she's trained to twist people's minds. I
knew from the beginning she would never let me have a relationship, not
this easy.  I would have to leave Mother, move away again; maybe to a
different city this time.  I should have never even told her about
Brigitte. Mother had suckered me into it, making out that she wanted to end
our sexual relationship.  "Find a nice girl, Marty." She'd told me. "Invite
her for dinner, Marty." She'd insisted.

   As usual, I did as my mother instructed.  I left her alone with
Brigitte, and drove away. I snuck back in the back door about 15 minutes
later, and slipped into the guest bathroom. My new girlfriend was sitting
in front of the mirror, staring at herself.  Mother stood behind her,
brushing her hair. "You have lovely hair, Brigitte; just let me brush it
out a little bit." I could just hear them through the glass. "Okay."
Brigitte said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I find it hard to believe
you've never used makeup.  You're such a pretty girl; you could look truly
amazing." "It's just never been my thing." Brigitte said. "You know, I have
a dress that might fit you." Mother said, putting the hairbrush down on her
dressing table and stepping across the room to her closet. She opened
closet, and removed a long sheer blue dress on a hanger. Mother held up the
dress and said something to Brigitte, but I couldn't make out what.
Brigitte turned away from the mirror, and I found that I couldn't make out
what she was saying unless she faced me. They talked for a minute or two,
and I wondered what clever little arguments Mother was using to break down
the young girl's inhibitions. Fascinated, I watched as Brigitte slowly
pulled off her T-shirt.  We had kissed and touched a little bit, but I had
never undressed her.  Once or twice, I thought I could have; but she lived
with her parents, and I always felt self-conscious when I was at her house.
I could see her blush as she removed her shoes and then her jeans. Mother
rummaged around in her underwear drawer while Brigitte unhooked her bra.
Mother shrugged and held up one of her own bras that was clearly too big
for Brigitte's small breasts.  They both laughed, but I could see she was
fairly uncomfortable standing in front of my formidable mother with nothing
on but a pair of white panties. I watched Brigitte don the dress that
Mother had found for her; it was a bit small for Brigitte, barely covering
her.  She looked incredible. Mother sat Brigitte at her dressing table
again, just two feet away from me.  Mother brushed Brigitte's blond hair
again. "You are an extraordinarily beautiful girl." Mother said, one hand
on Brigitte's naked shoulder. "Thank you." Brigitte said, blushing. "Such
extraordinary skin." Mother said, stroking girl's cheek.  "And such big
clear eyes." They didn't say anything for a minute, they just stared at
each other in the mirror, as I stared at them through it.  Mother put the
brush down, and began to stroke Brigitte's face and neck.  Slowly, Mother
brought her face down alongside Brigitte's head. Brigitte was looking
slightly alarmed, but didn't object immediately when Mother kissed her on
the neck, then the cheek. "What are you doing?" Brigitte asked at last.
Mother laughed; "Just exploring the boundaries, dear.  I find you so very
attractive, I just felt the urge to kiss you." Mother kissed Brigitte's
neck again; I couldn't see where her hands were. "I don't think you
should." Brigitte said. "Why not?  Because we're both female?  There's no
one here, darling.  Just you and me and these four walls; no one will know.
Close your eyes and just feel what's really inside yourself; relax and be
free." Mother's hands appeared from below the tabletop; moving upward over
the sheer dress, until they cupped my new girlfriend's young firm breasts.
"What do you feel?" Mother asked quietly, "Pleasure?" "I'm not sure."
Brigitte said, barely breathing. "You're very excited dear." Mother said,
"I can see that.  Have you ever kissed a woman?" "No." "Perhaps it's time
you did.  Just to know." Mother stepped around to the side of the chair,
and Brigitte turned her head and looked up; Mother took the girl's face in
her hands, and bending down, kissed her very gently on the lips. The
silence and tension permeated through the glass; my young girlfriend was
looking quite shocked, and yet...  excited. "What do you feel, dear?"
Mother asked. "I don't know." Brigitte stammered. "Yes you do." Mother
laughed; "You feel excitement, afraid yet with a desire for more. Just like
I do." Mother bent and kissed the teenager again, a long deliberate soft
kiss on the mouth.  Her hands held Brigitte's face, and I saw Brigitte's
hands go to Mother's slim hips. Mother pulled her face away from the from
the girl, and they looked at each other; Brigitte in a kind of shock, and
Mother in that all knowing way she has. Mother reached behind herself, and
pulled down the zipper of her own dress; young Brigitte just stared at her
silently as Mother peeled the cloth down to her waist and allowed it to
slip to the floor.  Mother was wearing a lacy half bra that supported her
generous breasts and held them forward.  She unhooked it, allowing her
appendages to hang naturally. Brigitte watched Mother strip in the mirror.
Mother was saying something, but I couldn't make out what.  Brigitte turned
to face her, and stood up.

   They stood facing each other, my mother and my teenage girlfriend. 
Their breasts facing each other's breasts. Mother was speaking and
gesturing.  I could see her face, but not Brigitte's.  Then Mother came
around behind Brigitte, unzipped the dress, and removed it from the girl.
They faced each other, semi-naked; then Mother placed her hands over
Brigitte's breasts, her thumbs underneath and her fingers above.  I saw her
squeeze gently, and then swirl her fingers around the perfect round
protrusions.  Very gently, she squeezed Brigitte's pink little nipples.
Brigitte just stood stock still, blushing but not taking her eyes off of
Mother.  Her nipples began to protrude visibly. Mother released the girl's
breasts, and took her hands.  She placed them on her own tits. She smiled
as the younger woman gently lifted and caressed the large middle-aged
breasts. The breasts that had fed me when I was a baby, and tickled my cock
when I was an adult. It was dark and private in the room I watched from; as
dark and private as the emotions that my voyeurism caused in me.  I pulled
out my cock, and stroked myself.  The physical pleasure partially
offsetting my distress. Mother moved slightly closer to Brigitte; I could
see Brigitte's firm round ass press against the corner of Mother's dressing
table just on the other side of the mirror. "Your eyes are so clear, and
your skin is so perfect." I heard Mother say, "Are you a virgin, dear?" I
couldn't hear an answer, but I could see Brigitte nod in the affirmative.
Mother kissed her; I couldn't see their lips, but I was very aware of the
kiss; of mother' s hands on Brigitte's naked back. "Do you like it?" Mother
asked. If there was an answer, I couldn't tell what it was.  Brigitte
looked away from Mother, and I could see her profile.  She looked confused
and unsure of herself. Mother stepped to the side, so she was in front of
Brigitte again.  She pulled the two female bodies into contact, their naked
breasts squeezing gently against each other. Taking the girls face, Mother
brought Brigitte's lips to her own.  Brigitte didn't struggle or object;
she stood stiffly at first, and then seemed to relax, at least partially.
Her hands wrapped around Mother's hips, and slid up Mother's naked back.
They kissed; and kissed and kissed.  They seem to be unaware of time, of
the world.  There was just the kiss, female on female, breast on breast. 
Tongue on female tongue. Finally, they broke apart.  They held hands, and
stared at each other in silence. So, I thought; Mother had proved her
point. She was speaking to Brigitte softly, and I couldn't hear her words;
but I knew she was saying something seductive, being as persuasive as only
Mother could.  Mother's fingers gently caressed the smooth pale flesh of
the younger woman.  Then Mother lifted the phone. I grabbed my cell phone
and answered it quickly, before the ring became loud. "You've made your
point, Mother." I said, "I'll come back now." "Oh no, Marty." Mother said,
"Don't worry about us, we're having a fine time.  You give your father a
ride home, and we'll see you in a couple of hours.  Bye bye." Damn Mother,
I thought. Mother sat Brigitte down on her bed, and sat at her feet on the
carpet.  She lifted one of Brigitte's feet, and placed it on her own naked
chest.  Mother's fingers ran up the girl's ankle, they looked at each other
as Mother stroked Brigitte's long legs sensuously. Mother's other hand
slowly slid up Brigitte's other leg; I couldn't see exactly where went, but
I could imagine.  After a moment, I saw Brigitte lift her ass from the bed.
Neither of them spoke as Mother slid Brigitte's panties down her lovely
legs, leaving the girl stark naked. Mother began to kiss Brigitte's leg,
working her way upwards; skipping the groin, she kissed up the belly, to
the breasts.  Brigitte lay back against the bed, and Mother crawled on top
of her.  I stroked my stiff cock while I watched through the mirror as my
Mother ground her lips against the girl's mouth. Mother was right, as
usual. Brigitte was clearly a lesbian; what my Mother was remained less
clear. My girlfriend pursed her lips, and seemed to pull Mother's tongue
into her mouth. I watched them as they rotated around each other, exploring
each other's bodies, each exploring their own newfound sensuality.  Mother
was the first to put her head between her lover's thighs, and I saw
Brigitte stiffen in pleasure.  I wasn't sure if she had an orgasm, but she
soon moved around to return the favor. Mother bucked her hips, holding my
girlfriend's head between her legs as she often held mine when I went down
on her. Mother shook her head, laughed, and ground her hips into Brigitte's
young mouth.  She came, staring at me through the mirror in triumph. I
don't suppose many people can say they've been cuckolded by their own
mother. Mother went down on Brigitte again after that, and I watched her
lick the girl intently until Brigitte finally and definitively came. God, I
thought, what gorgeous girl.  Brigitte, that is.

   "I was right, wasn't I Marty?" "Yes, Mother." "You should let me find
you a girl.  Who knows what you'll bring home next time." "I like Brigitte,
Mother." "Get undressed, Marty.  It's bedtime." "I still have to brush my
teeth." "Well brush them naked, dear.  I like to watch your cock shake
around while you brush." "All right." Mother stood behind me and played
with my penis while I brushed my teeth at the sink.  It felt nice,
reassuring and loving.  She pressed her large soft breasts into my back. It
irritated me that Mother always had to be right.  It bothered me that she
treated me like her toy.  It wasn't right that we were lovers. But I
couldn't resist her, the way she fondled my cock and balls, the way she
took control.  The way she cared for me like only a mother could, and made
love to me with more intensity than anyone I'd ever known. "I still want
her, Mother." I said. "But Marty, the girl is gay." Mother said, stroking
my erection with a sure hand. "Maybe she's bi." I suggested. "Perhaps."
Mother conceded, "It was fun, playing around with her; but it's left me
terribly randy.  Come along, Marty." And she led me by the hand into her
bedroom. Her playing around with Brigitte had left me fairly randy as well;
I was happy to oblige Mother that night. It's always strange to me, I guess
it should be.  Sliding my cock into Mother's tight little body, holding her
sensuously in my arms, kissing her and fucking her. She's great in bed,
better than any other woman I've been with in my short life.  Mother is so
energetic, so enthusiastic.  She always comes, usually more than once. I
just wish I could find a girl like Mother. "Come, Marty; don't hold back,
let me have it!" "Yes Mother." "Such a good boy!" My big hard cock moved in
and out of the small body that had once carried me.  I held the woman who
had once nurtured me, fed me, changed my diapers. She grabbed my ass in her
hands, grunting with the intensity of her pleasure.  Her big eyes watched
me as I pounded her. Throwing my conflict and guilt to one side for a
moment, I grabbed her head, and pushed my tongue into her open mouth. It
was wrong, so completely wrong; that's what we had been taught, that's what
we have all been told.  What we were doing was the most perverted,
depraved, disgusting possible thing.  It was incest, I was literally a
Motherfucker. But there was no one else like her, no one's mouth tasted
like her mouth, no one smelled the way she smelled.  I'd had plenty of
girlfriends, but none of them loved me like my mother did.  None of them
had touched me that way, sucked me the way Mother could suck me. None of
them stared into my eyes and came half as hard as her. None of them could
make me feel as powerful as a man yet as cherished as a child. I ejaculated
deep into the womb that I'd once occupied.  Mother kicked my ass with the
heels of her feet, totally enjoying our incestuous union, as always.

   I went out with Brigitte several times the next week, and I kissed her
in the movie theater. There was something so honest about her, something
strong and clean and good.  And yet, I knew that she had spread her legs
for Mother; I knew that her tongue had been in my Mother's groin.  I had
seen her have an orgasm in my Mother's arms. I went to spend the weekend
with my father, but we had a fight about something; Mother, actually.  My
dad couldn't stop badmouthing her. Even though I couldn't disagree with
what he said, knowing what I knew, it angered me the way he couldn't let go
of his bitterness. So I returned home.  Unexpectedly early. I saw Mother's
boyfriend's car in our driveway.  I felt a twinge of jealousy; I wanted to
stop having sex with her, I knew it was screwing me up.  But I felt jealous
anyway when she did it with someone else, which she did whenever the desire
struck her. She had been seeing Stanley for several months.  He was very
well off, and had taken Mother to Hawaii for a week, and Paris too.  He
tried to be friendly to me, but I didn't like him. His ego seemed a bit too
big for him. I went in the back door, and entered the guest bathroom.  I
looked through the one-way mirror into Mother's bedroom. Straight into the
eyes of Brigitte.

   Mother stood behind her, sensuously brushing my girlfriend's straight
shoulder-length blond hair.  Since they were sitting so close to the glass,
I could hear them. Brigitte was wearing Mother's transparent blue negligee;
her pert little breasts were tantalizingly evident under the gauzy nylon.
"I don't know about this, Sharon.  I feel as though I'm betraying Marty."
"Don't be silly, Brigitte.  What he doesn't know won't hurt him.  Your
first time with a man shouldn't be some random event; it can be quite
frightening.  This way, I can be there with you." "I appreciate that.  But
it all seems rather contrived." "I suppose it does; but sex usually is. 
Are you nervous?" "Very." "That's quite normal, dear." Mother said, running
her fingers comfortingly across Brigitte's pale young shoulders.  "I'm
going to call Stanley in now." Mother turned away from the mirror, and
crossed the room to open the door.  I suddenly realized what was happening;
Stanley, he was there.  Stanley, my mother's older lover was about to enter
the bedroom, the bedroom where Brigitte was waiting for him in Mother's
sexy negligee. I felt all the strength drain from my body, as if someone
had pulled the plug.  My knees felt like rubber, my hands were numb.  How
could this be happening?  Why was Mother doing this to me? She was jealous,
jealous of the younger woman.  Jealous of my attraction to her.  Mother
wanted to keep me for herself; why had I been so stupid?  Why had I told
Mother everything? Numbly, I sat on the toilet lid and watched. Stanley was
older than my mother by about 10 years; he was in his late '50s. Despite
that, he was in fairly good condition.  He didn't have a hair on his head,
but he had strong shoulders and a tapered torso, a lean ass and strong
legs. "You look ravishing." He said to Brigitte, approaching her. My girl
said nothing, she just blushed and looked at the floor as Stanley took her
hand and kissed it, as though they were meeting in a formal setting. But he
didn't release the hand; she stood up as he began to kiss slowly up her
arm, towards her uncovered shoulder. Mother stood behind him, and put her
hands around his waist.  Mother pulled his shirt out of his waistband, and
began to unbutton it. The old man held Brigitte by her chin; the girl stood
as still as a statue as he kissed her neck, her cheek, and her nose.  She
seemed expressionless, as if she didn't know herself what she should be
feeling as she surrendered herself by pre-arrangement to this stranger.
Mother pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, and Brigitte didn't
retreat when he released her for the moment it took Mother to slide the
shirt away from him completely. Stanley's fingers traced across Brigitte's
fine face, and down her shoulders to her hands. He brought his face closer
to hers; she looked at him levelly; they were the same height. Mother moved
around behind Brigitte; in her highest heels, Mother's head was nearly
level with the teenager's.  Mother put her chin on Brigitte's shoulder, and
stroked the girl's opposite ear with one hand as she wrapped her other arm
around Brigitte's slim waist. Mother was holding my girlfriend from moving
away from Stanley, stopping her from being able to step backwards as
Stanley stepped forwards.

   His mouth came within a hair's breadth of the virgin teenager's; his old
lips closed the gap. There was stillness, I think my heart stopped beating
for a moment.  It was wrong, completely wrong that he should be kissing
her. She was My girl, I should be the one to make love with her! Mother
held her from behind and stroked her stomach as Stanley's hands gently took
Brigitte by the hips.  He pulled her close. Brigitte's little hands went to
the small of his back, and I could see her breasts getting squeezed against
his hairy chest.  Their mouths were moving, the touch of their bodies
beginning to generate heat. Mother could talk anyone into anything, she
could talk a starving man out of his last morsel.  She could talk a young
girl into giving herself to an old man.  She had me so obedient, that I
couldn't find it within me to cross her, even as I watched her betray me so
utterly. Mother was saying something, but I couldn't hear what it was.  I
knew her so well, I knew her sugary and persuasive arguments, I knew her
soft, insistent, seductive voice.  She took Brigitte's hand, and pulled her
towards the bed.  Mother pulled open the knot of the negligee, and slipped
it from the young girl's body. Stanley and I watched as Mother arranged the
girl on the bed.  Mother then returned to Stanley, and unbuckled his belt.
She dropped his pants, and pulled his underwear down.  I could see Brigitte
staring at his half hard penis.  Stanley stepped to the bed; in slow
motion, he climbed over my girlfriend.  Holding himself above her, he
kissed her on the lips again.  The tip of his cock rested against her pale
flat belly.  I saw her hand go to it, wrap around it, gently experience it.
He had a decent dick; I watched it grow in Brigitte's hand, coming quickly
to full size and strength.  I found myself slightly fascinated by it; the
organ that took my place in my mother's mouth and cunt so often these days.
The organ in my girlfriend's slim fingers. Mother was still speaking,
sitting on the bed next to them.  She stroked Stanley's ass. It occurred to
me that I should do something to stop this; but what right did I have?
Brigitte had agreed to this strange event, she was even now totally
engrossed in her first sexual experience, sandwiched between her two
lovers. It would be very traumatic for everyone if I were to burst in on
them.  So I just watched, my indecision burning inside me as hot as the
scene before my eyes. I watched as Brigitte and Stanley slowly got more and
more intimate, touching and kissing. Becoming more aroused.  Mother went
down on Brigitte while Stanley held and kissed her. They switched, and
Mother kissed the girl while Stanley licked her seventeen year old virgin
snatch. After an age of this intense three way foreplay, I watched Stanley
got on his knees between Brigitte's spread legs; Mother kneeled behind
Stanley and held his cock against Brigitte's virgin entrance; I watched in
horror as the old man gently pushed himself against my lovely girlfriend's
feeble resistance.  I saw her back arch and her fingers clutch his
shoulders as he slowly wormed himself into her.  I saw her body tense at
the unfamiliar sensation.  I saw her expression, a mixture of fear and
arousal as she gave her virginity to this old man she didn't even know,
staring up at him wide eyed as his old dick filled her. Mother lay down
next to Brigitte, and stroked her head while she kissed the girl.  Mother
had taken most of her clothes off now, but her beauty couldn't compare to
Brigitte. Stanley fucked gently at first, in no hurry.  After awhile, he
sped up slightly, and I saw Brigitte began to tense again.  This time, in
preparation of orgasm. After the first one, Brigitte's second orgasm came
fairly soon. There was something fascinating and terrible about watching
this; it was like a horror movie, it filled me with revulsion, and yet I
couldn't tear my eyes away.  The old man screwing the teenager, and yet the
teenager was clearly enjoying the experience.  I wondered what little
things Mother was whispering into Brigitte's ear, persuasive and sexy
things to keep the girl on the unlikely path that Mother wanted her on.
Whatever it was, it was working.  There was a third orgasm.  I wasn't sure,
but I think there was a fourth.  Stanley was good at this. Mother had
arranged herself under the girl, so her legs were around the bodies of the
lovers.  Brigitte's head lay between Mother's naked breasts, and Mother
stroked and reassured her while Stanley fucked her incessantly, kissing the
girl on the mouth. Stanley was saying something, and Mother was shaking her
head in the negative.  Stanley pulled out of Brigitte, and quickly brought
his cock up to the faces of the two women; Mother took him in her mouth as
he ejaculated, but then jammed his cock into Brigitte's mouth before he was
through. I could see Mother swallowing, and she stroked Brigitte's face and
kissed away the small amount of Stanley's sperm that had been misdirected.
She stroked Brigitte's face, and I could see Brigitte's throat muscles
moving as she swallowed her share. The three of them lay together
afterwards, and even Mother seemed to be keeping her mouth shut for once. I
left the voyeur bathroom quietly, and sat on the couch in the living room
outside Mother's bedroom door. I was angry and bitter; I had been betrayed,
totally betrayed by my own mother, by my girlfriend, and of course by
Stanley.  I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew what I didn't want; I
didn't want to put up with this, I refused to ignore this. The door opened,
and Mother came out, clad in her sexy little green kimono.  She saw me, and
the color drained from her face.  I had to smile at that; in my entire
life, I'd never seen Mother look so anxious. "Hi, Marty; you're home
early!" "Yes, that's right." I said, staring her straight in the eyes.
"Would you be a darling and go out to get me some menstrual pads dear?" She
said, sitting down next to me. "I saw everything, Mother." "What you mean?"
"I saw everything.  I watched you, and Stanley and Brigitte.  I saw it all,
Mother." "Oh dear.  I'm terribly sorry, Marty.  I only did it for you."
"For me?  You did that for me?" "Of course dear.  I wanted to introduce
your little dike girlfriend to heterosexual sex. I couldn't very well be
there while you did it with her, could I?  So of course it had to be
Stanley the first time.  She seemed to enjoy it, so now she's ready for
you." "You're full of shit, Mother.  I don't know why you did it, but it
wasn't for me." "How can you talk to me like that?  I understand that
you're jealous, Marty.  But try to keep it under control.  Now Stanley
thinks of me as his woman, and you've been enjoying yourself with me the
whole time I've been with him.  It really shouldn't be such a big thing
that he's done it with Brigitte just once.  Someone had to do it, Marty,
she wasn't going to wait forever.  Did it make you horny, watching us?"
"Yes." I said, sullenly. "I didn't get any satisfaction, either.  They're
both asleep, I think.  Let's go into your room, we can talk there."
"Mother, I don't think..." "You never do, Marty.  Come along." Damn, Mother
did look good in that kimono; the thin belt knotted around her slim waist,
the way the fabric stretched over her generous breasts, the way it barely
covered her cute ass. I shouldn't let her do this to me, I thought as she
opened my trousers and pulled them down.  I shouldn't. In the dark privacy
of my bedroom, Mother pulled off my clothes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you,
Marty." Mother whispered seductively, gently pulling on my cock. "Let me
make you feel better." "Mother, please..." "Relax, Marty.  Let Mommy make
it all better...  don't I always?" "Yes." "You're a pervert Marty." She
told me, sending shivers of delight through me by pulling my cock with her
hands, "You enjoyed watching that old man take your little girlfriend,
didn' t you?  I know you did, baby.  And now you're doing it with your
mother again.  It's all right, Marty; there's no need for you to feel
ashamed." But I did feel ashamed; while she sucked my cock in that
wonderful gentle way of hers; the way that drove me crazy but didn't let me
come.  I should find Brigitte, I thought to myself; wasn't she still in
there with Stanley? Mother laughed gently in her knowing way as she looked
up at me with a sly smile, while her familiar hands teased my cock and
balls, her long polished nails scratching me in their special way. "Tell me
you love me, Marty." She whispered. "I love you, Mother." I answered her,
and I was immediately rewarded by her hot mouth sucking me deeply again. 
Good god, no one could suck dick like Mother! "Tell me I'm sexy, Marty."
She insisted. I lifted her up by her upper arms and embraced her; she was
so comfortable against me, her face tilted up at me as she waited for my
answer. "Very sexy, Mother, very very sexy." I said before kissing her. "I
would never leave you, Marty." She said, "I'll always take care of you,
Marty.  That girl wouldn't be able to satisfy you, not for long!  You'd get
tired of her, she'd be like a stone around your neck.  You saw how she was
in bed, like a rag doll.  If I hadn't been there, she wouldn't have even
gone through with it." Finally, Mother was naked on her back, her legs
spread for me; my dick was on fire, my heart was aching, I tried to resist,
but it was useless.  She laughed in soft sexy triumph as I slid it in her.
She laughed and grabbed my head as I began to screw her. I couldn't believe
I was doing this, mindlessly fucking Mom with Brigitte only a couple of
doors away; but I couldn't stop myself, I needed it.  I needed to feel her
reassuring body against myself, I needed to feel the grip of her vagina
around my cock.  I had to know that I could satisfy her like no one else
could, that this hot desirable woman was mine. "Do you think she could
replace me, Marty?  Could she cook your favorite dishes and squeeze your
cock like I do?" What did history matter?  Everything before this moment
was unimportant.  It didn't matter that she was once my mother, it didn't
matter that she had taken my girlfriend from me and given her to another
man.  It didn't matter that she'd had other lovers.  All that mattered was
that we couldn't resist each other, we needed each other.  We loved each
other as lovers. Mother lifted her hips to meet each stroke, our rhythm
matching perfectly, the result of so much practice together.  Her fantastic
vaginal muscles gripped my dick, her hands clutched at my ass as she came;
I couldn't stand it, I needed release!  Mother was right, she was always
right.  Brigitte had made her decision, and I was making mine. Mother
wrapped her leg around my shoulders, and put the soul of her foot against
my face. Her other foot was on my back, my hands held her ass as my pent-up
frustration erupted in a wonderful rush, pumping deep inside of her hungry
body. No other woman could make me feel this way, I realized; there was no
use in trying to find another lover.  It wasn't just the physical intensity
of Mother, it was the pleasure of knowing she was mine, of knowing I was
everything to her; her baby, her son, her lover.  It was the feeling of
dominance I achieved by emptying my sperm into her; marking her as mine, I
was staking my exclusive claim to my mother's love.  No stepfathers need
apply here. I knew suddenly why I had never made the move on Brigitte, why
I had dated her for those months without ever having sex with her.  It
wasn't her that was hesitant, it was me; because it was never her I really
wanted.  Because I knew that even though we would have had good sex, it
would be disappointing compared to my mother's love.  I knew her tight
young pussy wouldn't be able to hold me like my mother's practiced cunt.

   "Sharon?" Said Stanley, opening my bedroom door. I looked up at him in
shock; He stared back at me in more shock. "Holy shit." He said. "What is
it Stanley?" I heard Brigitte say as she looked in as well.  She was
dressed in only a towel, which was one towel more than either Mother or I
was wearing. "Oh my God." She said, her mouth falling open as the immensity
of what she was seeing slowly soaked into her brain.

   We didn't see Stanley or Brigitte again.  I heard that they moved to
California together.

   And I'm still with Mother; what's to use in pretending?  No one can
compare to her. Who else can love me like she does?  Mother feeds me,
nurtures me, houses me, and fucks the hell out of me. Mother is confident
that we can escape our cultural baggage, and just enjoy each other as a man
and woman should. So we're talking a lot now, when we're not having mad
sex. Bigby, 2005

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