Mum and Me, Part Four {John Jabbin} {mF Inc Mdom}
jjabbin@yahoo.com
Other stories at: 
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Jabbin/


I apologize to my faithful readers who have waited an 
inordinate amount of time for this installment of my 
tale. I've been bogged down at work and some personal 
issues, but I will be finishing this story. You 
patience and your feedback is appreciated.

Such feedback is the only price that most authors that 
post to ASSM ask. Writers need feedback in order to 
become better writers. Any comments, bad or good, are 
welcome. Write me at the e-mail address above.

If you're a minor, don't read this. If it's illegal in 
your country to be in possession of stories about sex, 
please destroy all copies of this work. Practice safe 
sex reading please.



Mum and Me, Part Four
by John Jabbin

Since the day I had decided to take my Mum as a lover, 
I had begun a patient, meticulous plan to seduce the 
most beautiful woman in my world. I knew I had to 
bring Mum around slowly to the idea of it. I had to 
learn to be patient.

To make matters even more complicated, my goal wasn't 
just an adolescent shagging of the old gal. What I 
wanted more than anything was to take more and more 
control of our lives. I know that at fifteen that runs 
against the grain, but as I grew up I could see more 
and more that I had a real need to be in control of my 
own life. Just as important to me, I had a real need 
to be in control of another person, of someone I was 
close to and intimate with.

There was no one in my world that I felt closer to 
than Mum and no girl I wanted to be intimate with more 
than her. It wasn't just a hopeless idea either, not 
in my mind. I had a couple of distinct advantages 
going here.

First of all, Mum was lonely. I had seen that already. 
She craved my attention almost as much as I craved 
hers. She could even put up with a bit of nonsense 
from me that she didn't particularly enjoy just on the 
hopes of more attention and companionship.

And another distinct advantage that I had to my plan 
was that I believe Mum's own natural inclinations ran 
in this direction. She was a sensuous woman that 
wanted to be touched and I think she wanted to be 
submissive to a man. Mum had never shown any natural 
inclination to be bossy with me like some mums are to 
their sons. What I remember of Dad, he had certainly 
been the more dominant of the two of them. Already in 
her responses to my attentions, Mum had shown that her 
natural instincts were to follow my lead. So far she 
had regretted that afterwards, but before she set up 
her guard, she had been willing to let me lead her 
down the path of my own interest.

So, starting that Sunday morning I set out to achieve 
my ends with patience and determination. 

Mum always liked to go to church on Sunday morning 
even though she wasn't particularly religious. She 
never insisted that I go, but I tagged along with her 
enough to know the liturgy and to not be a stranger to 
the inside of a church. With the hangover of guilt I 
was sure that she'd be feeling, I was certain that 
she'd be going this morning. As usually I was up 
bright and early long before her. Mum's a sound 
sleeper that has to have a good eight hours. I rarely 
sleep more than four or five myself. I think I get 
that from my Dad.

So I woke up early and fixed us both a light 
breakfast. As soon as the coffee was brewing and 
filling the whole house with its aroma, I heard Mum 
stirring. I had some biscuits and sausage done by the 
time she was down.

Mum wore an old robe that was quite unattractive. I'd 
have to get her another one soon. Even so, I sat a cup 
of hot coffee in front of her and a plate of food and 
kissed her good morning and asked her how she had 
slept. She mumbled something and I asked her if she 
was going to church this morning and if I could tag 
along. She perked up a bit at that and when she nodded 
more affirmatively, I told her I was going upstairs to 
take a shower to get ready.

I just took a quick one since I hadn't been out since 
yesterday, but I left the door open so that when Mum 
came upstairs from breakfast she had to walk the 
length of the hall before she turned off to her 
bedroom. The whole time she had to be looking at my 
naked arse toweling myself off.

Nudity had never been an issue in our house before. We 
had no rules against it or any locks on the doors 
inside the flat. To be true, I'd only seen Mum in 
partial undress on several rare occasions and could 
only imagine that the reverse was true for her. I had 
plans to change that though and this morning's shower 
was the opening salvo of my nudity campaign.

As soon as I knew she was past the door and had to 
have gotten an eyeful, I hurriedly finished off and 
went to my room and changed into white shirt and black 
slacks. I rushed throwing on my socks and dress shoes 
and grabbed my red tie on the way back to Mum's 
bedroom.

As I came into her room I surprised her with just her 
bra and a white half-slip on. Well, I would assume 
there were panties under the slip too, though I 
doubted seriously I would see them.

"John! I'm still getting dress," Mum said 
exasperatedly.

"I can see that, but you're decent. Would you mind 
tying my tie for me? You know how clumsy I am with it 
and you always end up re-tying it anyway."

"Okay, come here lad, though why you're in such a 
hurry today I don't understand. Now stand still while 
I do this."

Stand still I did as Mum stood before me with her 
proud, full breasts encased in nothing but lovely 
white cotton. It wasn't as though I could see much, 
but something about seeing a woman in her underwear is 
very exciting to a young man. Every now and then Mum 
would look up into my eyes to see where I was staring. 
Most of the time I was able to meet her gaze, though 
several times she could me looking at her lovelies.

"There you go," Mum said taking a step back after 
finishing. "You almost look presentable if you 
straighten up your hair."

"Mind if I use your comb here," I said taking her 
suggestion as a excuse to linger. "What are you 
wearing to church?"

Mum pulled out a dress from her closet and held it in 
front of her between us, no doubt in some small 
attempt to cover herself up.

"I think I'll wear this blue one," she said as though 
to herself.

"I don't suppose you'd want to wear the red one we 
bought yesterday?" I countered.

"That's hardly a church frock, John. I don't know if 
I've even courage enough to wear it to work, but I 
know I can't wear it to church," she said giggling, no 
doubt thinking of the deep neckline of her new dress 
and its tight waistline that accentuated her breasts 
and hips.

"Well, you'd look lovely in that blue one then, 
especially with those black heels," I suggested.

"Which heels?" she asked questioningly.

"You know ... well, let me show you," I said walking 
past her until I was standing in her closet doorway.

A woman's closet is a wonderful place. Filled with all 
her garments, it smells of her. The texture of the 
fabrics makes a young man want to linger. As I stooped 
to look at the shoes on the floor, I could almost 
imagine looking up Mum's dresses with her inside them. 
I drew forth a pair of black, three-inch heels ... the 
highest heels Mum had and ones she rarely wore except 
on special occasions.

"This pair, Mum. Not only do they make your legs look 
nice, but when you wear them we're almost the same 
height."

"Not for long, young man. You're growing taller each 
day. Since it's only for a couple of hours, I'll 
indulge you. Normally though, on Sunday the last thing 
I want to do it wear a set of heels."

I sat down on Mum's rumpled bed and watched her as she 
dressed. At first she seemed reluctant to put the 
dress on with me watching, which seems a bit 
ridiculous when you consider that I was already seeing 
her without it. But, after what looked like a moment 
of internal debate, she drew on the dress over her 
head.

I stepped forward and helped Mum by zipping up the 
back of the dress. Mum froze, uneasy as I did so, I 
think half expecting me to reach around and grope her. 
But I was on my best behavior and other then taking a 
deep smell of her hair as I pulled up on the zipper 
and straightened out the fall of the shoulders, I was 
a gentleman.

But then it came time to put on her stockings before 
she had to slip on her shoes. Having gotten them from 
her lingerie drawer, Mum dawdled, half expecting me to 
leave and give her some privacy to slip them on. 
Still, I was determined to see it through until she 
asked me to leave, but she never did.

As she sat on the bed beside me, Mum gathered a pair 
of the stockings in her hands and then slipped her 
right foot, the one closest to me, into the toe of the 
stockings. Seeing Mum's dainty little foot going into 
the nylons was a fascinatingly erotic thing for me. It 
seemed to happen in slow motion as Mum smoothed the 
stocking along her foot and ankle and agonizingly 
slowly up her calf. Then she stood and turned her body 
away from me while hiking up her dress to slip it on 
the rest of the way.

I grinned to myself, a bit disappointed that I hadn't 
gotten a good glimpse of hip and cunt, but thrilled 
that we had gotten this far. She did the same 
procedure with the left leg and stocking, though I was 
sorely tempted to rush around and have a peak at her 
as she pulled them up and snugged and straightened 
them on her thigh. 

These didn't have garters, much to my dismay, but I 
almost asked her if she had any that required them. 
I'd just love to see Mum putting on a pair of stocking 
with garters, and love even more to see her removing 
them.

That was about all the fun of getting ready, though 
she did allow me to help her brush her hair. I found a 
sustained enjoyment of helping Mum get ready and she 
even listened to my suggestions of which lipstick she 
should wear and how she should style herself. It was 
almost as though I were in charge of her getting 
dressed. One day, I thought to myself, I will be more 
overtly in charge of just that, Mum. Then you'll see 
how well I love you and take care of you.

As we sat in church that morning I couldn't help but 
think what a lovely family and couple we made. Mum 
looked young for her age. I fancied that I looked old 
for mine. Certainly everyone saw the age difference, 
but to my mind a stranger might easily think here was 
a young woman that just fancied a young man as her 
lover. The church was crowded and we had to sit close 
to one another. Mum's thigh and mine pressed against 
one another almost the whole time.

It was a very strange experience thinking of church 
with Mum as an erotic experience, but it was. As we 
stood to say the prayers, I brought my hand to hers 
and she held mine tightly. As we queued up together 
and came forward for communion, we were equals 
kneeling together waiting for the priest. Afterward, 
as we stood and walked back to our pew, I guided Mum 
with my hand in the small of her back. It was a lovely 
experience to be dressed up with her and touching her 
so intimately in public.

I found myself more and more enjoying this touching. I 
don't know why I hadn't done this before and Mum 
seemed to enjoy me being close. None of the things I 
was doing was overtly sexual, so she was hard pressed 
to deny them. Even so, the constant rubbing and 
touching, especially the thought of doing it in 
public, was very exciting to me.

And I think the touching even affected Mum as well. 
She seemed almost intoxicated with the attention. So 
much so that even after we got home, the touching 
didn't stop. We had both gone into the kitchen and 
were standing in front of the fridge considering what 
to have for lunch, when I put my arms around her and 
pulled her tight against me. I didn't think about 
doing it or plan it. It was just something that seemed 
natural and the right thing to do.

Mum just seemed to melt into my arms. Her tight, sexy 
ass pressed back against me and for just a second I 
heard a moan escape her lips. The spontaneity of her 
response to my embrace surprised us both and after 
that brief, initial response, Mum scooted away and 
left the room, leaving me standing in the middle of 
the kitchen with a raging hard-on.

As much as I wanted to be patient, I was still only 
fifteen and at the moment a very horny young man. I 
went upstairs and took off my pants and shirt, tossing 
my shoes and dress socks into the corner.

I pulled my cock out of my briefs and began to jack my 
meat up and down, thinking about my lovely Mum. As I 
closed my eyes, I imagined Mum kneeling before me 
taking my prick into her lipsticked-mouth. Her hand 
reached beneath me and massaged my balls and the shaft 
of my prick went deeper and deeper into her mouth. She 
was slick and warm, just like I imagined her mouth or 
cunt would be. I had been sucked by several of the 
neighborhood sluts and even fucked a couple of them, 
but I had never had a mature woman Mum's age. I 
imagined her cunt to be even more ripe and wonderful 
than those little girls.

And suddenly, at just the thought of that, in my mind 
Mum was underneath me and my cock was buried in her 
cunt. She was squirming, pushing herself against me. 
My hand was flying over my shaft, pumping fiercely. I 
was moaning out her name and feeling her beneath me 
and suddenly I was cuming, my sperm leaping into the 
air and falling to splatter on my chest and stomach.

My orgasm was as intense as any I had ever had and I 
felt like I came gallons. Trying to catch my breath, I 
looked down at the mess I had made and started 
searching for something to clean myself up with. A 
motion caught my eye and I saw, in a glance, that I 
had inadvertently left the door cracked open. I saw 
the twirl of the hem of a dress and Mum's strawberry 
blonde hair going down the stairway, away from my 
door.

I hadn't intended Mum to see me cum but thinking back 
on it, at least if she did, she had spied on a good 
one. As I lay back, I thought about Mum watching me as 
I jacked off and I started to get hard again. My hand 
automatically went to my cock and I started to slowly 
pump it, thinking about Mum watching me.