Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Funeral Fun with Mum

   I am 24 and still a bachelor.  After completing my education I got a job
in gas field that was away from my town and parents.  About one and a half
years later I received the sad news of my father's demise.  I told my firm
about this and reached my home in hurry.  I handled nearly all of the
arrangements and screened phone calls, the normally bright and cheerful
mood in the home that I'd grown up in wasn't there anymore...  replaced by
a somber atmosphere of sadness that resonated emptiness.

   During the graveside service, I held my mom close to me and she
desperately clung to me.  All through it she quietly wept into my shoulder
until the part where Dad's coffin was being lowered into the ground.  Just
as it began moving down into the hole, she let out a long, soul wrenching
howl of grief.  Everyone who was there moved in to surround us, even though
they knew that there was nothing they could do for her.  I saw the bleak
looks of helplessness in their eyes and softly said, "It's ok.  I'll take
care of her."

   My dad always told me to be strong.  I also remember his words from the
time I was 18 on.  He told me if anything ever happened to him that I was
the man of the family.  I was to care for my mom and two sisters.

   Looking across the grave at my two sisters standing there with their
moronic husbands - they'd have to be moronic to marry my sisters - I could
almost feel their tiny brains working out how much longer mom would last
before she fell off the twig so they could divide the spoils.  They came
only for short duration.  As soon as the last rites of the father were over
they were gone.

   We'd been home for a few hours when I made mom a plate from the prepared
food that had been brought over by friends and neighbors but she wouldn't
eat anything.  After repeatedly trying to get her to eat just some of it, I
gave up and ate alone.

   At around seven, I went to the family room and turned the TV on, keeping
the volume low, while Mom just sat in her living room chair...  staring
into the unlit fireplace.  I intentionally sat where I could see and watch
her but she just sat, unmoving.  Then, (finally) after half an hour or so,
she got up, stepped to the doorway and in a lost and lonely voice told me
that she was going up to bed.

   Even though it was still early evening, I got up and walked up the
stairs with her.  When we got to her bedroom door, she stopped and turned
to face me.  I took her in my arms, laid my head down against the top of
hers and held her for a few seconds.  Then, putting my hand under her chin,
I tilted her face up to mine and softly said, "You're not alone, Mom... 
I'm here."

   After tucking my mom into her bed I went back to my room.  As I entered
my room, I didn't bother to turn on any lights and headed straight for the
bathroom.  I wanted a nice warm shower.  On my way to the bathroom I
noticed the windows across from me were wide open and I could see straight
into them.  I saw my neighbor Mrs Linda Johnson moving in her room.  She
was 40 and quiet a sight.  She had removed her skirt and her shirt and was
now walking through her room in her bra and a pair of panty hose.  I'd
heard that a lot of women don't wear panties under their hose.  I think it
was something about getting to hot or something of that nature.  In the
light of a lamp her body looked amazing.  To my bad luck she sat down on
her bed and switched off the table lamp!  She was no more visible but the
sight had its effect on me.  Despite sad situation I was in I found my cock
erect.  Once inside the bathroom I took my dress off and stroked myself
until I had an orgasm.  I felt guilty for my act but I knew without this I
was not going to sleep.  I slept deep and long and awoke late.

   The good news I got on awakening was that Mom prepared breakfast for me
and ate it with me.  Afterwards some one came to give her company.  I made
a quick visit to the grave of my father.  When I returned back I found Mom
sitting in the living room alone.  As soon as she saw me she said,

   "Dave, you'll never guess who came visiting me."

   "Is it one of my sisters?" I said

   "No you idiot, it was Mr.  Martin, the mortician who handled your dads
funeral."

   "What the hell did he want?" I asked as incredulously as I could make
it.

   "He wanted to make sure he knew everything I wanted for my own funeral."

   "Mom, what the hell are you talking about.  You aren't dying." I said as
I walked over to the sofa where she was sitting.  By the time I got within
six feet of her she was bawling her eyes out.  "Mom, why are you crying?"

   "Simply because he made me realize how much I enjoy living and he got me
thinking about something you have been bugging me about for the last year
or so.  My Drinking."

   "Well, thank the Lord.  Are you now going to stop that useless habit?" I
asked with my eyebrows raised as high as I could lift them.

   "I'm going to stop damnit.  To overcome my worry I have already took two
glasses.  Just be there for me and please don't bug me any more, OK?"

   "You bet.  I'll do everything I can to help you." As I said this I
dropped to the sofa along side of her and she instantly leaned her head on
my shoulder and was sobbing big time.

   "Dave, I don't want to die." She said through clenched teeth.  "I love
you too much."

   "Mom, you aren't going to die.  You are not that old, father was ten
years older than you." I had put my arm around her shoulders and was
pulling her close to me more to give her comfort for what she was going
through emotionally rather than anything else.  But, she sure smelled
pretty and she did have a lovely body.  She nuzzled my neck and gave me a
big hug.

   "You mean only ten more years are left for me." She said

   "Not at all, you are healthy and can last for another thirty years." I
assured her and this pleased her.

   Perhaps I should describe mother a little for you.  She was not
beautiful, certainly by the alleged ideals presented by commerce and media.
She was a little on plumb side but her legs were shapely.  Her breasts,
while not sagging, hang down slightly and appeared prominent.  Her most
attractive feature are her eyes.  They are dark brown and almond shaped. 
The one great thing about her is dignity.  There was nothing artificial
about this; she simply has a natural grace in all she does.

   Emotions are strange and unpredictable things.  One emotion can spill
over into another.  Grief can even turn into laughter.  Soon we were
showering each other with kisses and endearments.  Then I felt my penis
stirring and disengaged myself from mother.  was I getting Mad.  I asked
myself.  Mom was surprised.

   "What happened?" she asked

   "How about a nice lunch at a nice restaurant." I suggested

   "No please, but you can order something on phone,"

   With that the topic changed from death to food.  I got my emotions
controlled.  After lunch I spent the rest of the afternoon, getting
acquainted with the town again.  There had been a few changes here and
there, but not much.  I decided I would catch up with old acquaintances
another time, and eventually headed for home.

   I got another surprise at reaching home.  Mom was wearing a normal dress
instead of black.  Somebody sent us dinner and she was arranging it on
table.  We ate and drank together.  I admit that both of us took a little
too much.  I'm alone with Mom.  She was staggering around trying to clear
up some of the ruins of food and bottles we'd been left with, and I'm
turning my head this way and that to try and stop seeing double.  No wonder
Mom was weaving around as if she couldn't see what she was doing.

   Making a mighty effort to talk straight, I put my arm round Mom and
said, "Leave it Mom, we can fix it in the morning.  You get to bed."

   She looked at me with bleary soulful eyes.  "Yer right, Dave, I can
hardly shtand up."

   I managed to guide her to her bedroom, but at the door, and with amazing
firmness given her condition, she stopped and said, "Gotta clean me teesh.
Must clean me teesh." She staggered to the other side of the hallway and
entered the bathroom.

   I decided to leave her to it, and went into the lounge and had a last
cigarette.  When I finished I decided on a shower, then bed.  I showered
and felt a trifle more coherent, but not much.  When I finished, I cleaned
my teeth, and wrapped a towel round my middle.  Gawd knows why since there
was no one to observe my manly assets, and even if there were someone, they
would probably be too pissed to notice.

   I made my way toward my old bedroom but on the way, I noticed Mom's
bedroom door was open, so I thought I'd pop in and see if she was ok.  It
was a daunting sight that met my eyes.  Mom was standing starkers with her
clothes dropped all round her, bawling her eyes out.

   I wasn't sure how to handle the situation.  I didn't want to leave Mom
standing there weeping.  Mom had always been modest where us kids were
concerned, so I'd never seen her in her underclothes, let alone naked like
now.

   Mom didn't seem to have noticed me, so I stood there looking at her. 
She was an interesting sight, because despite the battering she had taken
giving birth to three kids, and the fact that dad never lifted a finger
around the house, she wasn't in bad nick.

   As I said before, she's a buxom lady with plenty of hip and heavy
thighs. Her breasts, which in their glory days must have been a remarkable
sight.  But they now swung pendulously, the nipples big and brown, and from
the distance I was standing from her, seemed to have little knobs or
pimples over them.  I'd seen them like that before on some of the older
birds I'd fucked.

   "She fed three kids with those, so I suppose they've had a bit of a
battering, " I thought.

   I decided that retreat was my best option after all, so I was just
turning to go when Mom spotted me.  She seemed completely unperturbed that
she was naked in front of me, perhaps she didn't even realise she was
naked, and she just stood there wailing.

   "Oh, Dave.  What am I going to do? ...  What am I going to doooo?? 
You're all I have, now." and she began crying again.

   Facing her, with our arms tightly wrapped around each other, I quietly
said, "I love you, Mom.  I'm here and I'm staying here.  I'll take care of
you.  I've already called Steve and he's sending my stuff home."

   We continued holding tightly to each other, I became more and more
conscious that the nipples of her prominent breasts seemed to be getting
harder and harder.  I could feel the warmth where they contacted my bare
chest.  I knew that she was my mother but I couldn't help having a man's
natural reaction to a woman's naked breasts and hard nipples being pressed
against me.

   As my heart rate picked up, the perverted thought of having sex with my
mother popped into my head but, somehow, the word `perverted' just didn't
seem to apply.  Instead of feeling a sense of revulsion at the thought, I
felt just the opposite, which genuinely surprised me.  As I lay there with
my naked mother in my arms, I felt myself letting go...  casting off and
dismissing society's conventions and proprieties.  As I lay there, I felt a
simple acceptance of the absolute `rightness' of having sex with my mother
flow into me.  It was as if my senses were being taken over by an outside
force and the mild desire that had begun filling me quickly transformed to
a strong, intense one...  and my body reacted accordingly.  My cock
hardened and began to throb because it had dawned on me that she was
entirely naked.

   "What about getting you to bed?" I said

   "Yer look like yer dad, Dave.  Shpittin image you are.  Come on, give
yer old Mom a cuddle."

   I had little option but to "give my old Mom a cuddle." I'm a strong sort
of bloke, but like I've indicated, Mom's a hefty lady.  So, there I was
trying to hold her up while she's starting to sort of crawl over me.

   In the dark bedroom and in that moment of shared grief, something
strange happened...  as if some unspoken communication was passing between
us.  Without preamble, she lifted her arm from my side, reached down
between us and put her hand on my swollen manhood.  She seemed to tuck
herself against me and spoke in a drunken but purring sort of voice.

   "Betcha good with the girlsh, Dave, eh?  Got a big one like yer dad?"

   She tried to whisper this in what I suppose she thought was a seductive
voice, but it sounded like someone being strangled.

   Now, I must ask you to forgive me, folks, but I feel I need to make a
few explanations, or perhaps they are confessions, before I go on with the
action.

   I work at the gas field for two weeks straight, then I get a full week
off.  I admit that I'd neglected Mom because I never came home on those
weeks off.  I went to the city.  It wasn't really Mom I was avoiding, but
the old man.  We never got on, always arguing.

   When I got my week off, as you can imagine, I was really horny.  I went
looking for crumpet, but its not as easy as you think to get anything,
unless you go to the whores, which I don't like unless I'm really
desperate.

   Now here comes the confession.  If someone like Mom was on offer when I
had my week off, I'd screw the backside off her.  I prefer the older woman
anyway, they put a lot more into it, and they have a lot more to put in.

   So there you are.  And there I was, with my arms full of Mom, and her
pulling up against me, pressing her breasts and belly to me.  Now, even
though she is my Mom, I started to get a stiff one, and still being a bit
sloshed, the old morality wasn't working so well.

   Mom felt my stiff pushing against her through the towel, and in her
inebriated condition, she let nature have its head, and I felt her hand
reach down and start to feel along my shaft through the towel.

   "Gawd boy, got a beauty there.  Reckon ish bigger than yer dad'sh.  Get
yer Mom inter bed, then."

   I struggled her over to the bed and she plonked down on it in a sitting
position.  I stood before her for a moment, recovering from the battle, and
she reached up and ripped the towel off me.

   "Thash what the bugger did to me nightiesh." She gave a cackling laugh.
"Now I got you ripped off, ain't I?"

   "Yes Mom.  Now I really must go to bed."

   "Courshe yer going ter bed.  Yer goin ter bed, with yer Mom.  Wouldn't
leave yer old Mom in her bere...buriv...her mishery, would yer!"

   She had moved back on the bed a little, spreading legs to reveal a
thoroughly wet cleft, and was tugging me over her.

   "Come on, Dave.  Good for ush.  Yer not a man till yer'v had yer Mom."

   She brought her mouth down to mine, so I got my hands behind the back of
her head and held her into me for a long, mouth exploring kiss.  Her lips
were soft and wet, and her tongue battled with mine for penetration.

   Mother or not, she'd got me really going.  I had a throbbing cock that
wasn't going to rest until it had found a home, and there was one right in
front of me.  I had reached the point where I could hold back from her no
longer.  I pulled her into the middle of the bed.  Her legs were wide apart
and drawn up, ready to receive me, although as it turned out, "take
possession of me" would better describe what happened.

   She was saturated with fluid, and I started to slip easily into her
tunnel when her legs wrapped round me.  Then the walls of her vagina seemed
to suck me in.

   Mom gave a long sigh and muttered, "Thash it Dave.  Jush were yer
belong, love."

   I would like to give you a detailed, blow by blow account of this
coupling, but I fear I cannot.  Okay now here it is:

   Before I realized it, Mom was on her back and I was hovering above her,
my lips still locked with hers.  Mom's hands roamed slowly up and down my
back pausing every few seconds to massage my shoulders.

   Down on my elbow beside her, I began unbuttoning her gown.  Even one
handed, it was a fairly easy task.  The buttons were rather large and the
eye-holes were tattered and some were even a bit torn.  Got it unbuttoned
and opened it wide.  I ran my hand up her stomach and under her bra,
capturing Mom's left breast in my grip.  I then turned her on her side and,
using both hands, I unhooked the clasp in back and took her bra off of her.

   I let Mom roll onto her back and recaptured her left breast and squeezed
lightly, teasing her nipple with my thumb and forefinger.  I moved my hand
to her other breast and took her left nipple between my teeth.  I bit with
just enough pressure to keep it trapped while I fondled her other breast.

   Mom stroked the back of my head.  "Uhmmmmm," she moaned.  Deep breaths
made her biguns rise like Pike's Peak as she pressed them against my face
and hand.

   I looked up at Mom.  Her eyes were closed.  Her head was lolled back and
her mouth was wide open, giving me the impression that she was in the
throes of death.  Her ragged breathing, her flushed skin and her rapid
heartbeat told me differently.

   I kissed my way down her stomach, past her bushy mound and kissed her
vulva through her panties.  I lapped at the entrance to her tunnel of love.
Stroke after stroke, my tongue made its journey up her labia from bottom to
top.  I paused long enough to rip that tattered piece of material off her
and started licking her lips once again; this time it was skin on skin.

   Mom was huffing and puffing like a steam engine going up a hill with
less than half a load of coal in its belly.  Her pelvis hunched up at my
face each time I reached the top of her slit and breathed on her now
protruding clit.

   Finally, I stopped my licking and zeroed in on her button, captured it
between my lips and tortured it with the tip of my tongue.  I slid my hands
under Mom's thighs and up her stomach until I had two handfuls of her
oversized melons.

   I twisted and twirled her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers
while I continued to attend to her clit.  Mom was breathing heavier now. 
She was whimpering, her cries soft and brief as her stomach began to heave.
Her body was twisting and turning every which way, causing the sheets to
bunch up beneath her.

   My nose was buried in her hairy mound while my mouth, my lips and my
tongue were busy pushing Mom along to her orgasm.  Finally, it happened.

   Mom stiffened, pushed her juicing wet box up into my face and screamed
like she had suddenly been engulfed in the flames of hell.  I continued
licking and sucking on Mom's sex while she went through more mini orgasms
than I could count.

   Her body, now full of slack, slowly wilted back down onto the bed.  I
was still lapping at her hot little button when Mom grabbed my ears and
pulled my face even further into her cunt.  Her body convulsed as she let
go with another ear piercing scream and then, abruptly, she was still and
quiet.

   Damn, that was intense!  I had made my mother cum!  Damn near busted a
nut myself.  I edged forward until my cock was pressing against heaven's
door.  The head of my lodge pole entered into her vagina.

   "You're so tight," I said as my lips sought hers.  "And warm, too."

   "Ash tight ash your little whoresh?" she asked.

   "Tighter," I moaned as I shoved another inch inside her love tunnel.

   "That'sh it, baby," she hissed through clenched teeth.  "Shlow and
eashy. Shlow and eashy."

   I eased myself into her velvety sheath until I could go no further.  The
tip of my penis bumping up against her cervix sent hot shivers of delight
throughout my body.  I knew I wasn't very long, but it seemed as though me
and mom were a perfect match for each other.  I remained still for several
seconds, basking in the glow of our first union.  I backed out a ways,
paused and pushed back in.

   Mom managed to get her legs between us and rest her calves on my
shoulders.  "Damn, but that feelssh good!" she cried out rather loudly. 
Then her voice became husky and low.  So low that I could barely hear her.
"Keep going shlow, sweet baby.  Keep going shlow.  That's it, honey.  Shlow
and eashy."

   I took it slow and easy.  I was enjoying this encounter as much or more
than mom.  Damn, but this was so much better than fucking those immature
girls I had been doing it with.  At that moment, I vowed to move heaven and
earth to be with mom forever!  I was growing very addicted to mature, older
women.  Especially this mature, older woman.  I wanted to fuck her forever.

   I lost all track of time.  The world could have come to and end and I
wouldn't have known it.  I was too busy making love to my mother's sister.
Just the thought of fucking my own auntie made me shiver all over again.

   I started pounding her pussy like it was on fire and mine was the only
hose that could put the fire out.  Back and forth.  Back until just the
head was trapped inside that velvet vise of hers.  I would pause for a
micro second and then slam it back home, burying my fuck stick to the root.
Each time I could feel Auntie Em straining to meet my thrusting lance as it
pounded her cervix mercilessly.

   Her eyes were closed and her face wrinkled up into a grimace.  Her big
mountains of tit flesh were swaying like trees in a category five
hurricane! The force of her pussy pushing up to encase my pounding cock was
nearly knocking me out of the saddle.  I grabbed her tits in both hands and
held on as best as I could.  To gain further control of the situation I
pushed my upper body forward until her legs were the only thing that
prevented our shoulders from touching.

   Still I kept pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, but I knew it
couldn't last forever.  I could feel my balls churning; struggling to
release their latest load of hot baby making goo.  The thought that I could
possibly impregnate my beloved mom briefly entered my mind.  I started to
pull out so I could cum on her belly, or her tits, but she stopped me when
she yelled for me to keep on fucking her.  "Give it to me," she cried
loudly.  "Let me have it.  Cum inside my hot box!"

   Wow!  This was almost too much.  I had no time to give this idea any
rational thought.  My nut sack began churning and pumping my sperm up
through my urethra and out of my cock.

   "I'm there, mom.  Can you feel my seed entering your womb?"

   "Oh, yessssh, baby," she replied.  "I can feel every drop of your spunk
hitting the bull's eye!" Shot after shot after shot of my hot sperm pounded
the opening of her cervix.  I must have squirted a dozen times.  I don't
know for sure, 'cause I lost count after the fifth one.

   Meanwhile, mom yelled at the top of her voice.  "I'm cumming.  God, it
feels so fucking good!  I'm cummmmmmmmingggggg!" Suddenly, the walls of her
vagina clamped down on my iron rod and began squeezing the life out of me.
"Ohhhhhhh!," she screamed.  Then she was still.  Except for the rhythmic
squeezing of my cock, I would have thought she was dead.

   I had never experienced such a deeply satisfying sexual intercourse, and
I felt none of the regret or guilt that had so often followed my sexual
contacts with other women.

   When I finished I must have just rolled off her and went straight to
sleep.  I assume much the same happened to Mom.

   I came to in the morning with Mom facing me and her arm across me.  Even
through the wine induced hangover I vividly remembered the exquisite night
of love making that my mother and I had shared.  I squeezed her tit in my
hand as my lips gently kissed her shoulder and neck, loving our new found
closeness.

   I froze when she groggily said "Oh Charles I like that!"

   Charles was the name of my father.  Her eyes finally opened in her hung
over state and she groaned, "What, where are we?" Her head moved slightly
as she tried to figure out her location and she continued by saying,
"Charles U...oh no." Her head turned quickly so she could see my face. 
Suddenly Mom seemed wide-awake.  Her eyes opened wide and she sat up
staring at me.

   "What the hell are you doing in my bed Dave?"

   I felt a cold knife shoot through my guts.  "Here's trouble," I thought.

   "Well, you sort of invited me in, Mom, don't you remember?"

   Her face seemed to contort in an effort to recall the doings of the
previous night, then she burst out; "Don't give me that shit David" - sure
sign she was angry with me when she called me "David" - "As if I'd let my
own son get into bed with me."

   "But you did Mom."

   "David, you haven't been mucking about with me, have you?"

   "Well..."

   I felt rather than saw her hand go down between her legs.

   "My God, you have!  You've defiled your own mother!  You dirty beast! 
I've a good mind to call the police."

   Mom had done three years at high school, so she knew how to use words
like "defile," accept, of course, when she was sloshed.

   "Aa....eee.....  I'm sorry for hurting you so, but I'm not sorry for
what WE did!

   "I'm your MOTHER, you...you god damned motherfucker!  How could you?  Oh
my god Dave how could you even think of doing that to me?"

   "But you were the aggressor..."

   "How dare you!  Get out of MY house!  OUT!!  NOW!!" she screamed as I
retreated, shocked at her incredible change of heart from the night before.

   I tried to explain what had happened, but Mom was in no mood to listen.
She yelled and shrieked abuse at me, and ended up telling me to get out and
not show my face in the house again.

   My head was spinning as I threw on my shorts and headed out the door,
desperate to get out of the house and try and think this through.  I had
the beginning of a splitting headache as I tried to get myself together. 
What the fuck had I just done?  Oh shit, I'd just raped my Mom and she was
probably calling the cops right now!  I was so fucking stupid!  Mom can be
very formidable when she's riled, so I packed and left.

   One hour later I was fuming as I sat along side the highway as the
highway patrolman wrote my speeding ticket.  Handing it to me he said, "Try
to hold it down son or you'll never reach your next birthday.  I'm giving
you a break since I wrote the ticket for what I clocked you at, 100 in a 75
MPH zone.  If the ticket is for 30 MPH or more over the limit it is a
FELONY speeding ticket.  I could haul you in and lock you up!  But I won't,
even though I didn't start catching up to you until I was doing over 130!
Enjoy your car, but keep the speed down, son."

   [][][]

   About the middle of the second week of my work period, I got a letter. I
recognised the writing as mum's, and not wanting to cop any more wrath I
almost didn't open it, but then thought I might as well take the rest of
her abuse.  She was fairly much to the point, as always, but not to the
point I expected.  It read:

   Dear Dave,

   Sorry about the way I bawled you out the other day.  I had a terrible
hangover.  I realised what happened that night, and as we were both drunk,
especially me, I understand how it happened.

   I don't think now it was really so bad, and I want to say I still love
you, so please come home for your next week off and we can talk.

   As Always

   Your Ever Loving Mum.

   The letter seemed reassuring and I ruminated on whether I should go home
or not.  A worm of doubt still worked away in my brain.  Mum had written,
"we can talk." What sort of talk was it going to be?

   When I was little and mum was pulling a splinter out of me, she used to
say, "Now be a brave little soldier." I decided to be a brave soldier, and
go home to face the music, whatever it was.

   My week off began and I set out in the car for the long drive home.  My
stomach felt as if it had a thrashing machine churning inside it.

   Arriving home things started well.  Mum had the front door open as soon
as I pulled into the driveway.  She came and putting her arms round me,
said, "Give your mum a kiss, then."

   Now I had avoided kissing mum ever since I was about twelve.  It was not
that I didn't like kissing her, but I thought it seemed a sissy thing to
do. I went to give her a peck on the cheek, but she pulled my face round
and gave me a soft wet one on the lips, right out there on the driveway
where the neighbors could have seen us.

   Mum has very nice full lips, and they should not kiss anyone unless
there's going to be something at the end of it, if you know what I mean. 
This public kiss lingered and her lips moved over mine in a suggestive sort
of way.

   She broke from the kiss and said, "Come in love, I've got some dinner
cooking for us."

   We went into the kitchen where most of our family living had been done
over the years.  I assumed, correctly as it turned out, that the "talk" was
not due to take place yet.  Food came first, and the only mealtime talk was
concerned with the financial woes of my sisters and their husbands, and the
fact that my youngest sister, Dotty, had "another one on the way."

   "Thank God I'm past having any more," mum said significantly.

   I took this to mean she was glad that my one venture into her female
private parts could come to nothing, however potent my seed.  I can't say I
was sorry either.

   It was not until after we had cleared away and washed up that the main
item on the agenda was opened up.  We went into the lounge and sat facing
each other in armchairs.  Mum opened the subject.

   "Mother, I'm so ashamed at what I did to you.  It was finding you doing
...  doing what you were doing that made me give way.  I would never have
done anything, I really wouldn't, but seeing you so ...  so er ...  so
steamed up, I just went off my head.  Is it possible you could forgive me?"

   She sat silently looking at me for a minute, then finally she began,
"it's not all your fault.  I've been thinking, and I realise now how
thoughtless I've been."

   I tried to say something but she cut across me.  "let's stop talking
about whose fault it is, and try to find out how we can live together in
future."

   I stared at her for a moment in apparent disbelief, then said, "I
thought you'd want me to clear out and never see you again.  I thought..."

   "You thought wrong," mom responded quickly.

   "I'm confused.  I know it's happened between us, but how do I become my
own mother's lover?"

   "Dave, love is a funny sort of thing.  It doesn't always fit into the
pattern we are told is right and proper.  It can just happen with the last
person we thought it would happen with."

   "I know.  Mum.  It's just that there's been such a...a
sudden...er...sudden change in the way we are with each other."

   "Look, sweetheart, I don't want you doing anything with me that's going
to mess you up.  I really do love you, and you don't mess up people you
love."

   "I don't want to mess you up either, mum."

   "It's all right, love, you won't do that, I promise you.  Now
suppose...just suppose, instead of staying in the city when you get your
week off, you come here...home.  Would you do that?  I mean, could you come
home and be happy about it."

   "I think so, mum."

   "I'd be able to give you what a young chap needs, and be happy doing it,
I can promise you that.  I won't hold anything back from you and there
won't be any other blokes while you're away."

   Things were getting heavy.  Mum was talking commitment and faithfulness
as if we were married.  This only added to the confusion I felt over the
new way we were relating with each other.  I wasn't sure that I wanted us
to be tied together so closely.

   Mum seemed to understand my dilemma, and she went on to say: "I don't
want to tie you down, Dave.  You're young and will probably want to marry
and have kids one day.  All I'm saying is, let's see if we can make a go of
it."

   Marrying and having kids was something that had never appealed to me,
and as I thought more about mum's idea of seeing if we could "make a go of
it," the more it began to look good.  There'd be no binding marriage, so no
problems if we wanted to bust up any time.  She couldn't have babies any
more, so there'd be no whining little buggers running round the place. 
Above all, I wouldn't have to go women hunting every time I go my week off.
It would all be waiting for me here at home.

   Of course, so far we'd only had sex once when we were drunk and a
quickie on the lounge floor carpet.  There'd been no foreplay, and in a
long-term sexual relationship, it's the sex games couples play that are
vital.

   Mum had said she could give me what I needed, but that was a skeleton
that required some flesh on it.

   I know all this sounds utterly selfish, but no doubt, mum had weighed me
up in a similar way.  She had been married to one bloke for over thirty-two
years, and perhaps she wanted to feel free in a relationship.  What's more,
she would get a reliable supply of sex, even if it were only one week in
every three.

   There was one other thing, something I have already written about, and
which must be chucked into the equation, "Love." In relation to sex, for me
love had never been a factor up until now.  Now, having seen that love look
in mum's eyes, and experiencing some strange feelings about her myself, I
knew it was there in the sexual aspect of our changed relationship.

   Perhaps I can best express it by saying that I had found a woman I
wanted to have sex with, and wanted to go on having sex with.  This had not
happened to me before, and I could always have gone on quite happily from
one woman to the next.  Now it was this particular woman I wanted.

   I had always loved mum.  I suppose being the last of her children I had
been closer than the others had been.  Seeing her now, weeping over her
confession, the exposure of what must have been deeply suppressed thoughts
and feelings, I felt a wave of compassion and love pass through me.  I got
off my chair and went and knelt in front of her.

   She was holding a handkerchief up to her face, in part to wipe away the
tears, but also to hide her face from me.

   I took her hand and said, "It's all right mum.  I understand how you
feel.  It wasn't a bad thing you said it was lovely.  I bet many mums and
sons have those sorts of feelings, but never speak about them."

   Through her sobs, she began to speak:

   "Oh Dave, I'm so lonely.  I go to bed at night and its so cold and
empty, and I lay awake wanting...don't think I'm awful, Dave, I want a man
there with me.  I want a man I can give to and who wants to give to me. 
Can you understand what its like?  All the years I had your dad with me,
there was never a night when we didn't do it, except when I had my women's
troubles."

   "It was then that he went to one of his other women.  I didn't really
mind so long as he still wanted me.  I could have had other men, but I
never did Dave.  I was happy with one bloke because he could give me
everything I needed, and I loved giving to him.  And now it all gone, and
when I knew what we'd done, I was really angry not because we'd done it,
but because we'd done it when we were drunk.  Can you understand that,
Dave?"

   "Yes mum, I can understand that."

   Her sobs had subsided, and she had pulled my head to her breast.  I told
the truth when I said I could fancy a women like her, and mother or not, I
was starting to get a stiff one.

   "Dave, you never did answer my question."

   I knew quite well to what question she referred, and not liking myself
for doing it, I pretended I didn't know.

   "What question, mum?"

   "Could you fancy me even though I am your mum?"

   It was clear where we were heading and what the outcome was going to be
if I answered truthfully.  It was my turn to pause.

   My head was still on her breasts and her hand was stroking my face and
hair.  I could smell her womanly aroma, and my stiff got stiffer and
started to throb.  I decided to say it as it was:

   "Yes, mum, I fancy you."

   "O God, boy, then don't make we wait.  I'm as hot for you as an Indian
curry."

   As we lay together in bed mum was pressing her body against me.  I think
that was a hint that it was time we ended the talking.  She felt warm and
soft, just like a woman should, and this helped me make up my mind.

   "All right mum, let's do it.  I'll be home every week off in future."

   Her first response to this was to cock her leg over my thigh and say,
"All right, you young stud, let's start finding out about each other."

   She brought her mouth down to mine, so I got my hands behind the back of
her head and held her into me for a long, mouth exploring kiss.  Her lips
were soft and wet, and her tongue battled with mine for penetration.

   While this was going on I let a hand wander down to her breasts, and
drawing one up from its base, it didn't seem so flabby as I thought it
would.

   I decided that further action on her breasts was the thing, so breaking
from our kiss I went down to suck on her nipples.  They are, as I have
said, large and a little knobby, and at that moment, they stood out very
erect.  They were, without doubt, the largest nipples I had ever tasted.  I
think an extra dimension was added because I knew I had once sucked them as
a baby, and in fact, mum was moaning out, "Suck me like you did when you
were little, sweetheart."

   While the suckling was in process, my hand was exploring farther down
caressing her mound, then passing on to slip a finger into her opening.  I
was pleased to feel how wet she was.

   I went back to kissing her mouth, and mum's hand had found my pride and
joy, and was gently massaging it to very considerable effect.  I had to
exercise a lot of self-control not to penetrate her right then, but I had
one other thing I wanted to do to her at this time.

   I coaxed her to the edge of the bed, and getting her with her feet up on
the bed and legs wide; I knelt in front of her and began exploring her
genitals.

   It must be clear I was preparing to engage in oral sex with her.  I had
given women oral sex many times before, but there was something I had never
done.

   When I was about seventeen an older bloke, talking about women's
genitals, said to me, "Don't ever look at it, boy, it a horrible sight." I
had always taken his advice, and shut my eyes when indulging in oral sex.

   Now, with mother I wanted to look, to explore.  Perhaps it was the
fascinating thought that it was through this passage that I had made my way
into the world.  It was as if there was something sacred about mum's vulva.
It was a place to approach with reverence.

   I parted her outer lips with my fingers, and for the first time looked
upon a woman's inner lips.  Far from seeming "horrible" to me, they looked
like beautiful pink rose petals.  I next opened these inner lips and saw
the entrance to her vagina.  "The gateway to heaven leading to the tunnel
of love," I thought rather poetically.

   Such was my awe for what I was looking at, it was with great gentleness
I slowly inserted a finger into her.  As I did this, she gave a soft little
whimper and said, "Oh God, I love you so much, Gav."

   I next lifted the hood that protected her clitoris.  Again, I had never
actually looked at this little nub before.  Now I was surprised to find it
larger than I thought; like small penis.

   I said nothing, but mum must have divined my thoughts because she said,
"It's bigger than most, Dave.  Lick it, sweetheart."

   I licked over and round the little hill of pleasure, tasting her fluids;
it seemed sweeter than others I had tasted.

   Mum was starting to cry out loudly now, begging me, "Don't stop,
darling...don't stop...please don't..."

   Her words suddenly were cut off.  I felt her starting to shudder, and
had to hold on to her thighs to retain contact with her clitoris.

   Her cries had become incomprehensible, sounding like, "Mmmm, nah, nah,
ha, ma, ma." Suddenly she gave a great shriek and her whole body heaved,
then began to shake with violent vibrations.

   Her hands were behind my head, and she was dragging me to her.  I heard
her sobbing and weeping, and her lubricant came flooding out of her.

   I had never experienced such a furious, intense orgasm in a woman
before. It was as if a tempest was raging through her.  The cries and
frantic movements reached a climax, then gradually diminished.  Her
vocalization became comprehensible again, and she was moaning, "I love you
Gav, I love you."

   I had reached the point where I could hold back from her no longer.  I
pulled her back into the middle of the bed.  Her legs were wide apart and
drawn up, ready to receive me, although as it turned out, "take possession
of me" would better describe what happened.

   She was saturated with fluid, and I started to slip easily into her
tunnel when her legs wrapped round me.  Then the walls of her vagina seemed
to suck me in.

   It was my turn to howl and cry out, though what exactly I said, if I
said anything comprehensible at all, I have never been able to tell.  I do
know that I wanted to express love and lust and passion for her.

   Mum was working with me, suiting the rhythm of her gripping and
releasing my penis with my movements.  She was crying out again, "Fuck me,
Gav...  fuck me...  Sperm in me, darling...  Put it in...  sweetheart."

   I had reached my own explosive moment, when I felt her start to shake
again, and within seconds, I was hammering my semen into her and she was
screaming and crying again, her whole body jarring and jolting.

   We seemed to be in the grip of something savage, almost brutal. 
Primitive forces seemed to be at work between us.  Despite the
impossibility of my fertilising her, and my own lack of desire for
children, in that wild and ecstatic coupling there seemed to be the
primeval desire to reproduce the species.  I did not seem so much to empty
myself into her, as have the juices sucked out of me by her.  She seemed to
be determined to have the last drop.

   The climax passed, we came down from the heights to a peaceful
post-coital plain.  Mum still murmuring her love for me, and I was striving
to find the words to describe the joy and fulfillment of our climatic
moment.

   The doubts that I had about the future of our relationship were now
dispelled.  As mother had said, she could give me everything I needed.  I
found myself in love with a woman many years my senior, and she my mother.

   Mother was speaking softly to me.

   "All right, sweetheart?  Was it all right?  Did you like...enjoy me?"

   "It was beautiful, mum.  Didn't last long enough, though."

   "We can fix that, darling."

   I made an attempt at humour.  "And we weren't even drunk."

   "No, so I'll always be able to remember this time, won't I, darling?"

   Without knowing quite why, I responded, "And all the other times."

   "Are there going to be 'other times,' Dave?"

   "If you want them."

   "Of course I do."

   These were words of promise and commitment.  They should not have sat
well with me, as commitment to women had never been my strong point.  Yet
now I felt somehow comforted.  It was as if I had come home, not in the
sense of coming back to the house, but coming to this woman.

   A whole galaxy of thoughts and emotions were racing around inside me, so
I was glad when mum suddenly turned practical...down to earth.

   "Sweetheart, I think its time we let each other go and perhaps had a
shower.  We can get around to more talk...and other things, after."

   Unwillingly I withdrew from her; again, a change from my usual wish to
get out and depart when I'd finished with a woman.  We proceeded to shower
together, and having at least temporarily had my sexual needs satisfied,
again I was able to consider mum's naked body with some degree of
objectivity.

   As I have said, she is buxom but not fat - perhaps generous and
curvaceous best describes her.  There are the marks of childbearing on her
thighs and abdomen.  Her hair, once almost black, now streaked with gray.
She has dark brown, deep set eyes that give expression to her thoughts very
easily The plumpness of her face has tended to keep wrinkles at bay, and
she has a tilt tip nose.  It is her mouth that most attracts, it is wide
with soft full lips.  I made a note to remember that her mouth should have
special attention paid to it.

   It was her breasts that I found slightly unattractive.  I have tried to
describe them before, but it was only at a distance and through an
alcohol-induced haze, that I had observed them then.  They hang down, but
not in the flat, flaccid manner that I had seen with some of the older
women I had been with.

   Mum's breasts seemed to still have some substance to them.  One would
still be able to fondle them and derive some satisfaction in doing so.  The
nipples were as I have described them before, brown and having little
bubbles over them.

   "They've done some hard work in their time," I thought.  "Nourishing
three kids, including me.  They're entitled to show some wear and tear.  I
bet dad had some fun with them."

   As I washed her vagina, trying to remove the residue of my love juice, I
made a further note to explore that region, in great detail, especially
with the aid of my tongue.  Mother permitting, of course!

   That was a point!  I had to find out what she liked and disliked.  How
far would she let me go with her?

   To sum up things as I saw them then, I can honestly tell you that I had
often had my fantasy of the ideal woman.  I suppose everyone one has their
fantasy of their ideal man or woman.  You can read many of those fantasies
in erotic stories or see them in sexy pictures.  But I'm realist enough to
know that the ideal fantasy is just that, a fantasy.

   I had, in the shower, a flesh and blood woman.  She was real, not a
flight of fancy.  She wanted me and, I believed, really loved me.  On the
other side - the me side - I had discovered for once in my selfish life, I
was in love.  I wanted this woman like I'd never wanted a woman before, and
much to my amazement, I wanted to give to her.  The fact that she was my
mother - sorry if that offends - seemed to be irrelevant.

   I had been lost in reflection, and came to as mum, drying my genitals,
was saying:

   "Let's go to bed and have a talk, love."

   I agreed that talk was in order, but hoped it would be more than that.

   We climbed into mum's big double bed, and had the not altogether welcome
thought that it had once been mum's and dad's double bed.

   Mum snuggled up to me, and I put an arm round her.  I could have started
the journey to our next coupling right then, but decided that for the
moment a talk was more important.

   Mum started things off.

   "Dave, you do believe that I really want you, don't you?"

   "Yes, mum."

   "You know I love you?"

   "Yes."

   "Tell me truthfully, darling, how do you feel about that?"

   "Mother, it was the most wonderful, beautiful sexual experience I have
ever had.  The fact that it was incest and there is an age difference
between us, can't change that, at least, not for me."

   She kissed me on my mouth and then there was no more talking.  We made
soft, tender love again that night, and for the next many nights.

   In the following days we continued our voyage of discovery, a voyage
that never seems to end.  It is most often mother who takes the lead. 
Despite my many women there were things I had not experienced.

   For example, on the third day of our love making, mother was sitting
across me.  She lowered herself onto my erect shaft and I anticipated
vaginal penetration.  But something was different.  Penetration seemed a
little more difficult, the sensation once I had entered was of a tighter
hold.  I looked up and saw that I was not in her vagina at all.  Mum had
selected anal penetration.

   At first, it felt a trifle harsh, but as my own pre-cum began to
lubricate, it grew smoother, and the tighter tunnel added zest to this
coupling.

   After a minute or so, mum reached down and took my hand.  She drew it to
her vagina, and placing one of my fingers on her clitoris said, "Stimulate
me there, darling."

   I began to move my finger round the little mound, and mum moved towards
one of her explosive orgasms.

   We seemed fortunate in that most times our orgasms synchronized,
although at times I managed to delay my own, so as to be with her longer as
she slowly came down from her climax.

   Six months into our sexual relationship began our hunger for each other
had not diminished.  When I arrived home for my week's leave, our first act
was to engage in one of our howling, screaming cat-fight couplings on the
lounge carpet.

   I ripped off so many of mum's underclothes that she now met me on
arrival home clad only in a housecoat.  "Like father like son," she said,
referring to my father's early propensity for tearing off her nightdresses.

   "I love your ass.  I hope you don't mind, but I plan on touching and
caressing it as much as I can tonight." I said.  My hand slid down her
back, until it was on her other big cheek and gave it a nice, hard squeeze.

   "Mmmm, I don't mind it at all!  Do you like my fat butt, you sure do
touch it a lot," she giggled

   "Yeah, I think it's so nice."

   It was at about the six month mark, that mum proposed a big change in
our relationship.

   One night after a particularly wild coupling, and we lay embracing and
trying to recover, she said, "Dave, why don't you stay home all the time?
You've earned good money at the gas fields and you've saved, why not get
work locally?  The power industry is expanding here all the time, you could
get work with them."

   The idea had its attractions for me.  My single room at the gas field
hostel, and the canteen food, was a bit less than desirable.  The isolation
for two weeks at a stretch was beginning to pall.  On the other hand, would
constantly living with mum work out?  Would our sex life descend into a
dull routine?

   I told mum I would come to live at home all the time and work locally,
but in my head I said, "You can always go back to the gas field, they're
always looking for fitters."

   One problem that did arise by my living permanently at home, were my
brothers and sisters.  Mum got visits from them and the grandchildren
occasionally.  She usually managed to work it so that it was while I was
away from home.  Now it would be more difficult, and if they suspected what
mum and I got up to, there would be hell to pay.

   Our way out of it was for me to play the permanently bachelor son, being
looked after by his loving mother.
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