Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Me and My Mum


Summary: A son and mum look at their relationship and how it changes.


Keywords: inc,fic



   A son and mother look at their relationship from their own perspective.

   The story of how a mother and son's relationship develops and changes
from mere maternal love to full sexual love is complicated.  It doesn't
happen overnight and it often takes years.  That's why the story is long.
In this, we look at the relationship from both the mum's and son's
perspectives and witness their doubts and fears, their aspirations and
desires.

   The son.

   I suppose it was akin to letting Dracula into a blood bank, a cat into a
fish shop or giving a pyromaniac a box of matches.  To me it was like
Aladdin's Cave.  That was mum's bedroom while she was out.  The smell of
the room, her smell was an aphrodisiac by itself, but the wonders that lie
inside her wardrobe drawers almost put that to shame.

   I had done it several times, no that's a lie, I did almost every time I
was alone in the house.  It was like a magnet, a drug I couldn't resist or
kick the habit.  Every time I did it the thrill did not reduce, it
increased.  I had to be careful and not take risks like moving them too
much or folding them up in a different way after I had indulged myself. 
The feel, the touch the smell and the look of her lingerie, the jewels that
lay so neatly in those drawers turned me on so much.  I couldn't resist it.
There was absolutely no way that I could stop myself from carefully
rummaging through them, caressing the silk, satin, cotton and lace. 
Putting them to my face and smelling them, running them over my chest and
down my body to my bare rigid cock.  Yes, I always did my lingerie search
naked.

   The smell was so different to the soiled ones I took from the laundry
basket.  They were musky and warm and smelt of her.  From the wardrobe they
were cool and fresh with a clean, unused almost new aroma.  I found it
difficult to decide which I preferred.

   Of course, the used stuff provided greater opportunities for my
indulgence.  I could risk putting the panties on and using them to
masturbate with although I had to be careful that I didn't cum in them. 
The underwear drawers, though, provided such lovely surprises.  New
matching pairs, different coloured thongs, and new styles.  When I
discovered something new I always wondered whether she or one of her
admirers had bought them.  And of course, as I looked closely at them and
stroked them, usually wearing a soiled thong with my cock sticking out the
top and my balls out the bottom, I would wonder had she modelled them for
her admirer, had he undressed he when she was wearing them and had he
fucked her after taking them off?

   Now and then there were other exciting discoveries in those drawers.

   One day I found a few packets of condoms and that amazed me.  I never
knew women bought them and, of course, I found it incredulous that my
mother had, but then I saw it was a six pack and there was six in there, I
wondered feeling sorry for her whether she been unlucky or had the lucky
guy had his own?

   Another day, a year or so ago now, I found some new stuff still wrapped
up in tissue paper.  With shaking hands, I peeled it open and was totally
gobsmacked to find a pair of crimson coloured, edged with black lace,
crotchless knickers and a matching bra with the nipples cut out.  I was
pretty sure I knew what creep had bought her such a thoughtless and
tasteless present and was pleased that he had only lasted a couple of
dates.

   It was quite recently, though that I hit the jackpot.  I was going
through the drawer, quite a deep one, where there were loads of pairs of
tights and I knew, at the bottom several pairs of stockings, both holdups
and those needing a suspender belt.  I had tried her holdups on before and
loved the look of them on my legs particularly when I wore them with boy
shorts.  Although my hand was in that drawer my gaze was on her slips and
petticoats on the hangers so, at first, I couldn't work out what I was
touching.  That changed quickly when my fingers went around the long
plastic tube.  Looking down I saw the flesh coloured vibrator.  My heart
pounded realising that what I was holding would have been up inside her and
that she would have fucked herself with it.  So as it buzzed and vibrated
up and down my erection I realised that was the nearest I had come to
fucking my mum!

   The mum.

   I couldn't fathom it out at first.  I was sure I had ironed my knickers
into a certain pattern, but when I went to take them from my drawer they
were different or so it seemed.  I didn't think that much more about it and
I put them on and got on with life.  But it happened again several times
and that made me think.  At roughly the same time I emptied the laundry
basket one evening and couldn't find the bra and knickers I had worn the
day before.  I rummaged through the basket and found them under the shirt I
had been wearing.  That wasn't possible as I would take the shirt off first
so they should have been on top.

   Of course after a while the penny dropped.  At first I was shocked and
rather mortified, but I recalled talking to my ex about it ten years or so
ago when he had told me that as a lad he had played around with his
mother's underwear.

   "And love," he had said putting his arms round me and grabbing my bum.
"I sometimes get the urge now."

   Being a bit of a google freak I looked it up and found that it was
fairly common.  That is sons and husbands messing around with the mother's
and wife's lingerie.

   It did worry me a little as I knew that at times I had left my vibrator
in one of the drawers and a couple of rather stupid men friends had bought
me risqué underwear that I should have thrown away.  Had he seen all of
them, I wondered?

   I decided to set a trap.  I laid several pairs of knickers on top of
each other and in between each pair I put one of my blonde hairs.  Sure
enough a couple of days later they had gone.  That meant the underwear must
have been taken out and replaced.  'The dirty little bugger,' I thought
smiling to myself as I recalled an article on google that said the
motivation for it was their love for the owner and touching or wearing her
panties was a way of getting close and, in a way, making love to them.

   The son.

   I had thought that as I got older my obsession with mum's underwear
would diminish, but it hadn't.  As I was approaching my twentieth and I had
been snooping in her drawers for a couple of years my need for doing it was
every bit as strong as it had been when I started.  In some ways it was
getting stronger for now when I had a used pair I would imagine I was
having sex with her.  At first it was just kissing, but that changed and
soon I was feeling her tits as I played with one of her bras and after that
I was fucking her as I ran her panties over my knob.

   Then I would have guilt attacks.  What the fuck was I doing thinking
about having sex with my mum?  Was I some form of freak?  There was no one
I could ask and although google said it was not that uncommon, it gave no
hint as to overcome it.

   It got worse for now every time I wanked and that was at least once a
day it was her I was fucking.  Sometimes I licked her and others she
gobbled me, now and then we did both at the same time in a crude sixty-nine
and once or twice I went up her arse.

   The mum.

   Over the next few months I suppose I got used to what Mark was doing and
mostly forgot about it.  But now and then I would do the hair trick and
nearly every time they disappeared or were moved.

   I had been divorced for a few years at the time and I was in my
mid-forties.  I had become disillusioned with dating.  The ritual of
getting to know someone well enough to have sex with them and then spending
more time wondering whether he was 'mister right' became tedious.  So, to a
large extent I gave it up, the dating that is not the sex.  Well not the
need for the sex for that was as strong as ever.  I had a friend with
benefits I saw from time to time, but mostly the only person who made love
to me, was me so I was almost permanently frustrated.

   The son.

   I was reasonably well experienced for a twenty-year old.  I had been
with, and by that I mean fucked six women.  Two were younger than me, one
around my age and the others were older with two being in the forties, like
mum I realised.  By an enormous amount the older women were the better
lovers.  They were more adaptable, creative and adventurous and seemed to
me, a relatively inexperienced lover by their standards, to know far more
what they wanted than the younger ones.  And with me it was the hardness of
my cock, how quickly I recovered to fuck them again and how many times I
could do that in an afternoon or evening that they wanted.

   Like most kids of my age I was constantly horny.  I had a stash of girly
mags, particularly Mayfair, some German or Danish hard core stuff and of
course I watched porn on the net all the time.  I pulled as many girls as I
could and got whatever I could from them.  All that struck me as pretty
normal.  I chatted to my mates about what they did and that confirmed it
probably was.

   What was not normal, though, were my feelings for my mum.  Over the past
couple of years these had become stronger.  I could not get enough at
looking at her and constantly I was ogling her legs as her skirt rode up or
sneaking glances down her top hoping to see more of her nice big tits. 
When I saw her in a dressing gown or swimsuit and once or twice wrapped in
a towel I nearly made myself cum and I lived off the vision for weeks
after. More and more she now featured, well starred really, in my
masturbatory fantasies.

   I knew it was crazy and that of course nothing could ever come of it.  I
often wondered, however, how I would react were she to make an advance,
which of course I knew she never would?

   The mum.

   Discovering that Mark messed around with my underwear shocked me at
first.  But I got used to it and thought of it in the context of most or
many men had a thing about their partner's lingerie.  That rang a warning
bell, though, for I was not his partner, but his mum!  Was it not odd and
rather pervy for a kid to be doing that with his mum's undies?  That of
course made me think more about my relationship with him and that brought
up other issues, well not necessarily issue more situations.

   Several times I had seen him staring at me when inadvertently I was
showing too much leg or cleavage and the looks I got when I was in a
dressing gown or bikini were in sheer adoration.  That had started me
wondering what he really thought of me and I didn't mean as a mum, but as a
woman.  Again I was shocked at even considering how my son might think of
me like that.  The other shock was when I evaluated my feeling about those
adoring looks and I realised I enjoyed them.

   I sort of started to look at my son in new light.  Of course I loved him
as a mother and had loved him as a boy.  But as he became a man I started
to wonder whether the nature of my love was changing?

   The son.

   Mum and I were getting on with each other better than we ever had
before. Certainly now that dad being around was a fading memory our
relationship improved amazingly.  I wanted to be with her, be near her,
help her touch her and look at her.  And she seemed to like that.  Could
she really think of me as a potential lover as I did, increasingly with
her?

   The mum.

   Mark seemed to change.  Looking back I think it started after the
separation and Paul moving abroad.  He was more open and friendlier and no
longer was he the moody, depressed teenager.  Almost overnight in his
nineteenth year he seemed to grow up and become a man.  It became a
pleasure and, I had to admit reluctantly a thrill to be with him.  He
seemed to be more mature and interesting.  No longer was his conversation
all pop music, F1 and football, but included movies TV, books and fashion.

   At times it was almost as if we were boy and girl friend.  We had
similar senses of humour and our own in jokes.  We laughed and giggled
constantly, talked all the time, stood close together and were 'touchy
feely' with each other.

   The son.

   When I came in from college mum was sitting on a chair in the kitchen.
She was wearing quite tight, white denim jeans, no shoes or socks and a
loose, yellow, scooped front top.  She looked fantastic.  The ironing board
was up and there was a large pile of ironed laundry that included several
bras and a few pairs of panties that I had to struggle to stop myself
touching.  I knew that I would later though!

   "Hello darling."

   "Hi mum, good day?"

   "Phew I am bushed," she replied as I sat down facing her, our legs just
a foot or so apart.

   "Why's that?"

   "Shopping, gym, housework and an hours' ironing I'm bushed."

   "You poor thing."

   "My feet ache from walking and standing."

   Without really thinking I reached down and lifted her foot up onto my
lap and said.  "Remember when I was a kid I used to massage your feet?"

   "Yes I enjoyed that how old were you?" she asked as I gently massaged
the ball of her foot.

   "Oh twelve or so I guess," I mumbled loving the feeling of my fingers on
her flesh.  I held the top of her foot with one hand and rubbed the bottom
with the other.

   "Mmmm that's nice," was her rewarding, quiet reply.

   The mum.

   It seemed to be completely unplanned but when Mark put my foot on his
lap and started massaging it I felt myself becoming turned on a little. 
Quickly I pushed such thoughts from my mind and went to move my foot from
his lap, but he grabbed it.

   "No leave it let me massage them, stop them aching," he said lifting the
other foot up onto his lap

   It was a strange sensation, both physically, emotionally and I realised,
sexually.  His touch was sublime.  Soft and gentle, but just firm enough
for it to be a massage and not a caress.  I closed my eyes.

   "Nice mum," he asked quietly?

   "Mmmm yes darling, yes it's lovely," I sighed back.

   The son.

   I could hardly believe what I had done and was doing.  I would never
have thought I would have the guts to lift her bare foot up onto my lap let
along to start massaging it.  It felt so good.  Rubbing just hard enough so
that she would not think it was a caress I revelled in feeling her bare
skin with my fingers.  Although she tried to pull away, I managed to stop
her and get her other leg up as well.

   The look on her face with her eyes closed, her lovely lips slightly
parted and her tongue occasionally running along the upper one was
fantastic.  Suddenly I realised it was not just in a beauty way and not in
a mum's way, but in the way of a woman and it hit me in my balls and
stomach in the way of a lover.  I felt my cock stirring and my erection
growing and I was careful to keep her foot away from the growing bulge.

   The mum.

   I had to stop him.  I knew that only too well so rather rudely and
suddenly I pulled my legs off his lap.

   "Ah well must get on."

   "You really have to mum?"

   "Yes of course, lots to do."

   Mark went up to his room, put his music on and presumably logged onto
his iPad.

   Finishing off the ironing I felt odd.  It took me a few minutes to put
my finger on what it was or what I actually felt and even more minutes to
admit it to myself, but when I did I was shocked for I was aroused.  I
thrust it from my mind telling myself it was ridiculous, but the dampness
between my legs and my rock hard nipples said quite the opposite.

   We didn't see much of each other that evening, which was just as well in
the circumstances.  He went out with his mates and after sending some
emails to friends and a couple to relatives in Canada I had an early night.

   As I undressed I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered what a
twenty-year-old would think of my body.  There was hardly any excess, just
a little on my tummy and perhaps a bit on my hips.  The legs were still
good, the arse was pert and my D+ boobs had hardly any sag and were still
full and round.  As I carried out that inspection I slipped my panties off
and noticed the dampness in the gusset.  I looked up from where I was
holding them and looked in the mirror.  My nipples were rock hard.  I
touched one.  It was like an electric shock.  I pinched it and cupped the
other breast.  It felt so good, it was what I had wanted to do all day and
especially since Mark had massaged my feet.

   I laid on the bed still holding and caressing my breasts and nipples
until one hand could resist no longer and as if with a mind of its own it
slid down my body and between my thighs that I so willingly opened for it.
I was soaked and two fingers slid into me so easily.  I grunted and groaned
as the pleasure built up and as I started to finger fuck myself.  I drew my
legs up and closed my eyes as my climax started.  It took over my entire
mind and body as wave after wave of such deliciously sordid sensations
roared through me.  As I reached the crescendo all I could see was Mark's
face alongside mine, his body on top of me and his cock buried deep in my
cunt.

   The son.

   I got home around eleven and went straight to bed.  I looked at mum's
door and there was no light coming under it so I guessed she'd had an early
night.  I stripped naked and looked at myself in the mirror then I
remembered mum had left the ironed clothes downstairs.  I ran down and yes,
her panties were still there.  Four or five pairs.  I was hard immediately
I picked up a silky, tiny thong.  I put the gusset to my nose and then
rubbed it over my face thinking this is where her cunt has been and will
go.

   I had to wank.

   I took the thong up to my room and stood in front of the mirror with it
hanging from my prick.  I so wanted to put it on but, didn't dare as I knew
that my precum would stain it.  Instead I started pumping my cock in the
surrogate pussy my hand was providing.  It took hardly time before I was
ready to cum.  Fortunately, I had some tissues and as I fell to my knees
leaning forward imagining I was fucking mum doggy fashion I shot loads
mostly onto the tissues.  I was lucky that none of my spunk went on the
thong.

   The mum.

   About a week later I was again ironing when Mark came home.  This time I
was wearing shorts as we were, unusually for the UK having an extended
period of hot weather.

   He kissed me on the cheek and went to the fridge and got a beer.

   "Glass of wine mum?"

   "Yes please love I am nearly finished."

   He sat down on the chair that he had when he massaged my feet and sipped
the Peroni from the bottle.  I finished the ironing and without really
thinking sat opposite him.

   "How do you feel mum, tired?"

   "Yes a little I was on my feet most of the day giving the training
session and have just done an hour's ironing," I replied looking at the
pile I had finished that was topped by several pairs of my knickers and
three bras.  As I looked away I saw that he was also looking at them and I
wondered whether he had messed around with any of them or, more to the
point would in the future?  A slight shudder of a combination of excitement
and guilt ran through me when I thought 'with me in them maybe?'

   "Come on then."

   "What?"

   "Give me your feet."

   "No, no they are fine it's ok," I replied my heart beginning to beat
faster.

   "No mum I insist," he replied reaching down and lifting them up."

   I made a token gesture at stopping him, but we both realised that was
futile.  He put my feet on his lap and peeled both flip flops off my feet.
Although nothing by itself the symbolism hit me and it felt as if he was
undressing me and baring not just my feet, but also my body.  As I sipped
the wine and he started to rub my feet he looked at me and I felt as though
he had x-ray vision and could look right through my clothes.  I felt naked.

   The son.

   I was more turned on this time, far more, but then there was more bare
flesh.  Not only her feet, but also her legs right up to her mid-thigh. 
So, in addition to being able to feel her bare feet I could ogle her bare
lower legs and her thighs.  I felt as though I was in heaven.

   The mum.

   I gave in and let him caress, no massage my feet.  He was more thorough
this time rubbing the balls, and the arches with one hand and holding my
ankle with the other.  I closed my eyes and let him get on with it.  He
varied the pressure with which he kneaded the soles of my feet but had a
light touch on my ankle although he would occasionally squeeze or softly
rub it.  It felt lovely.

   The son.

   It was a major fucking turn on getting both hands on her and buggering
around with the underneath of one foot while, at the same time, caressing
the top and ankle of the other.  She had both feet on my lap and her legs
were slightly open and I could see a little way up inside the legs of her
shorts, but regrettably they were too tight to see very far up, sod it.  In
some ways I was pleased about that for as it was I was tempted to lean
forward and slide my hand up there and god knows what I would have done if
they had been loose.

   I changed feet regularly doing the kneading with one hand on the
underneath and the squeezing and stroking on the ankles with the other.

   She seemed to enjoy it and, in a way, appeared to be encouraging me,
well she certainly had not objected when I held her ankle.  But of course,
I had no real idea whether she was just finding this pleasant and relaxing
or exciting and arousing.

   I wanted to go further and I wanted to know, but I doubt whether I would
do either.  Then almost without thinking I slithered my hand from her ankle
and up the back of her leg onto her shapely calf muscle.  At first there
was no reaction.

   The mum.

   The combination of him using both hands was more than doubling the
sensations and pleasure I was now gaining.  I knew now, that without doubt
there was at least an element of sexual turn on about both what he was
doing and him.

   At first I didn't react.  I had almost forgotten that it was my son
doing this to my feet so when his hand slid slowly and gently up the back
of my leg and came to rest on the swell of my left calf muscle almost at
the back of my knee I simply lay there and wallowed in the beautiful
feeling of having my leg massaged.  But then it hit me what he was doing
and reached down and went to push his hand off.

   "That's enough Mark," I said opening my eyes.

   "Why what's wrong, your feet ache."

   "Yes my feet do."

   "Well they are connected to your legs aren't they so it makes sense that
if you massage one you should do the other as well," the smartarse replied
making sense.

   "Yes that's as maybe but I'm your mother."

   "So you would let a stranger as a masseur do it, but not your son," he
said not moving his hand from the back of my leg.

   "That's different."

   "Is it?" he asked gently squeezing my calf muscle.

   The son.

   It felt sensational.  Soft, smooth, warm and so shapely.  I had always
loved my mum's legs, but had not really been able to touch them and
certainly not near caress them as I was now.  I squeezed the soft yielding
flesh sending sensations straight to my balls and cock that grew even
harder than it had been since I first touched her.

   She tried pushing me off, but it seemed to me to be rather half-hearted
and somehow, I found the balls to resist and argue with her.  Of course, I
wanted to go further and in my mind I ran my hand right up along the inside
of her thigh and onto her cunt.  But of course I didn't and after a few
more squeezes, a little more massaging of her feet we stopped and had
dinner before I went down the pub to meet my mates.

   I was not my usual self at the pub as my mind kept going back to what we
had done.  In reality just rubbing a woman's feet and squeezing her calf
muscle is hardly particularly erotic or arousing.  But when it's a mum
allowing her son to touch her there like I had it could have massive
connotations!

   The mum.

   Not insisting that he stop touching my leg was a mistake.  Or was it
fortuitous?  It felt so good and sent tremors of arousal through my body
and I enjoyed his touch on that slightly erotic part of my body.  I think,
though, that it may have sent a message to him; it was a bit like what
letting a guy get his hand up your skirt and in your knickers on a second
date says about you.  Now, I felt that he was expecting more and, I freely
admitted to myself I wanted more, but what?

   A few days later he massaged my feet again and this time included both
calf muscles in the routine.  I half wanted to and I nearly did, but I
didn't demure or try to stop him.  Our relationship was changing.

   The son.

   She was getting used to it.  Just like girls gets used to the bloke
playing with her tits when they kiss, so mum was becoming accustomed to me
rubbing her shapely calf muscles.  The next challenge with a girl, of
course, after caressing and maybe sucking her boobs is getting up her skirt
and with mum the next bridge to cross was getting above her knees.

   It didn't quite work like that though.

   One morning two of our lecturers at college didn't show up.  I had
nothing else on than lectures with them so I thought, fuck it, I'll go home
and study in the sun in the back garden and work on my tan.  Arriving home
I was surprised, but pleased to see mum's car in the drive for I had
assumed she would be at work.

   I could hardly believe what I saw when I walked into the kitchen for she
was there wearing just her nighty and was washing the kitchen/living area
tiled floor.  She looked fantastic.  The nighty was white, cotton I think,
and the hem came to mid-thigh.  It was low cut with thin spaghetti straps
so she was showing a deep cleavage and her full breasts wobbled as she
moved.

   The radio was on quite loud and the washing machine was rumbling away so
she didn't hear me come in and I stood and watched her for a few moments
mopping the floor and squeezing the mop out.  As she did that so the thin
garment was stretched across her back and hips and boobs.  When I looked at
her back my cock stood up instantly; she wasn't wearing a bra and the
outline of her thong was very apparent.

   "Hi mum," I called out making her jump.

   Turning with the mop in her hand she smiled nervously, I thought and
said.  "Hello darling.

   The mum.

   "Oh bugger it," I said half to myself when I heard Mark saying hi.

   I had been working all morning on changing the beds, vacuuming the
lounge, bedrooms and stairs then washing the kitchen floor.  That was
always a tiring work load and in the heat it was even more so.  I tended to
get all of that out of the way before having my shower so often I was naked
or just in my panties, but thankfully I thought to myself, I had my nighty
on that I sometime sleep in.

   As I greeted Mark I knew I had made a bloomer for the nightdress was
quite tight around my hips, bum and boobs, each of which were emphasised by
it.  I looked at him feeling rather vulnerable and nervous, but also
slightly excited as I saw him staring at my breasts.

   The son.

   I could hardly drag my eyes away from her breasts that were outlined by
the thin material that seemed to hug them although the neckline was cut low
so that a goodly proportion of them were on show all the time.  Not only
that, but also it accentuated the swell of her nipples that whenever I had
seen them like that through other clothing during the past few years I got
an instant hard on.  Today was no exception.

   The mum.

   As I looked at him looking at me so my arousal grew and I knew my
nipples would be hardening.  There was nothing I could do about it and it
felt as though his eyes were boring into my boobs.

   The son.

   My cock was fully hard now.  Could she see it, I rather forlornly asked
myself?  Of course she fucking could I replied.  And bloody hell look at
her nipples, they're like fucking acorns.

   The mum.

   Was he getting hard, it certainly looked it?  Oh fuck what are we going
to do?

   "Just finishing the housework," I mumbled.

   "Yes I can see, must be tough in this weather."

   "Well it's tiring and certainly very hot," I replied sort of turning my
shoulders forward and drawing my chest in as I tried to hide my breasts and
hardened nipples.  But when I did that the front gaped and more of my boobs
were on show; I just couldn't win.

   "Then I had better give you a massage?" he immediately replied as our
eyes met.  "Hadn't I mum?"

   I could think of little else in the world that I would rather have had
at the moment, I thought to myself almost grinning when I added, other than
a good fuck.

   The son.

   "Had two lecturers not turn up today," I blurted out feeling lost for
words.  "So I came home," I went on stating the obvious.

   "Yes so I see," she smiled back looking more gorgeous and desirable than
ever.

   "Didn't think I would see you here."

   "I changed my plans around a bit so got on with the housework."

   "You work too hard mum, what with the house, the washing and the
business."

   "I enjoy working hard," she replied putting the mop in the bucket and
turning away from me.  "You had better get out of the kitchen or you'll
smear the floor.  "Go in the garden under the shade it's lovely and not too
hot yet."

   Taking a book from my bag that I dumped on the kitchen table I went into
the garden.  I couldn't concentrate on reading for my head was in a whirl
over what had happened in the last few minutes.  Whilst the initial foot
massage had been pretty erotic and fairly intimate our conversation and how
we looked at each other just now had surpassed that by a mile.

   Ten minutes later she came out and I was pleased to see that she had not
changed.  I tried looking closely to see if maybe she had put a bra on, but
the shadow of her nipples and areola under the nighty showed that she
hadn't.  I was relieved at that.

   She sat down and said.  "Fancy a beer?  It's a bit early but I am
parched."

   "Sure, I'll get them," I replied standing up, but remaining slightly
bent in an effort to hide my hard on.  I walked almost sideways to keep my
front from mum to the kitchen and got the beers.  In there, I rearranged
myself so that my erection pointed straight up my stomach and was not
tangled up in my pants and shirt.  Hopefully its less obvious I thought to
myself opening the bottles.

   The mum.

   I had thought of changing or at least putting a bra on, but realised
that would look a bit daft and as if I had something to hide, which I did,
I smiled looking down at my breasts and seeing the clear shape of both
nipples and the darker patch of each areola through the, clearly too thin,
material.  There was nothing I could do about them although they had
subsided when I was finishing the floor.  It was seeing that Mark had a
hard on that had made them spring back to life.

   God he does fancy me, he wants me I thought.  Although, of course I had
an inkling about that it was seeing his hard on twice today that confirmed
it.  So the massaging, the fondling and caressing my feet was all part of
that.  What should I do was screaming in my head?

   The son.

   She had moved from the chair in the sun and had sat down on the hammock
in the shade so when I came out of the house her back was towards me.  Her
shoulders and a fair way down her back were bare.  I decided to play a joke
and give her a little shock.  Walking up behind her I said.

   "Here's your beer mum," and pressed the cold bottle on her shoulder.

   "Shit what's that," she gasped reaching up and grabbing the bottle as
she went on.  "You little bugger."

   "Cold is good for helping muscles recover," I said.

   "Well they need it they have worked bloody hard this morning."

   I let her take her bottle and I replaced it with mine on her shoulders.
I moved it around in a massaging sort of way and asked.

   "Nice?"

   "Mmmm yes it is actually."

   Looking over her shoulders and down her body as I continued my bottle
massage I saw that the hem of her nighty had ridden up her legs and was
nearly at her crotch.  The material was moulded to her boobs and stomach
and her nipples were clearly on show and very evidently hard.  My hard on
that had softened a little sprang back into life and my cock reared
rampantly right up my stomach.  I was now hugely aroused for it seemed to
me that she was not bothering to cover her legs or to hide her 'erections.'

   "Maybe I should massage here today then?" I said softly resting my
fingertips on her neck and shoulders near the hair line.

   She didn't move or say anything so I took it for yes and pressing the
bottle on the top of her shoulder which was covered with perspiration I
moved it along that muscle away from her neck and then back again.

   The mum.

   I think in some ways I had given up.  Or maybe that should be given in.
The enormity of what was going through my mind was playing tricks with my
thinking.  Surely it couldn't happen?  Surely he would not do it?  Surely I
would not encourage or allow it?  Surely a mother and son like us would not
have sex together?  As I felt his fingers pressing into my shoulder I tried
to thrust such thoughts from my mind, but they wouldn't go away.

   The son.

   Can she really be up for it?  I was thinking as I placed the fingers of
my other hand on her shoulder near to her neck.  No she isn't, she's just
playing around I countered.  Mums, well my mum at least, don't do things
like that.  Like what?  I could hardly bring myself to think it, let alone
say it even to myself, have sex with their sons.  But we were going that
way.  The foot massages, the caressing of her legs and now being with me in
just her nightdress.  Fuck I thought is it just that?  It might be, maybe
she doesn't wear knickers in bed and under the nighty she might be naked.
My cock almost exploded at the thought that there was just that thin,
short, low cut garment stopping me seeing her naked, but then I remembered
I had seen the outline of a thong, maybe one I had fondled or tried on in
the past.

   I put the bottle down and placed the fingers from my other hand on her
shoulder which was slightly damp from a combination of the condensation
from the bottle and her perspiration.  My thumbs were on her back pointing
downwards and my fingers were curled over her shoulder and pointed down her
front.  I pressed my thumbs into the muscle.

   The mum.

   "Mmmmmm," slipped from my mouth as I felt his thumbs dig into the
muscles just above my shoulder blades.

   It was a nice feeling, slightly painful, but not so much that it really
hurt and was I realised very similar to the sensations I had got from other
massages at the numerous spas I had visited over the years.  He continued
using mainly his thumbs on that muscle running along the shoulder, but
increasingly his fingers as well.  They pressed into the muscles four or
five inches down my chest.  The tips of them almost reached where the
swells of my breasts began.  Another inch or so and they would be on the
more sensitive and sexually compliant flesh.  That made me shudder, but I
was not quite sure whether that was from fear or desire.

   The son.

   I was surprised that she didn't stop me.  After all I was now holding
her bare shoulders and my fingers were down her front on her chest.  I
started to dig my thumbs into her back and at the same time to rub her
gently on her front.  Looking down I saw that her eyes were closed and her
mouth was slightly open.  Her breasts were moving as she breathed and her
legs were stretched out with her ankles and bare feet crossed.  She looked
incredible.  My cock was so hard and was pressed against the back of the
hammock that I wanted to start dry humping, but somehow I managed to resist
and just pressed my cock against the back of the hammock.

   I saw that her hand was gripping the cushion tightly and that excited
me. She's turned on I thought, I've got her going.  But could I go the last
mile and do something, anything really as my mind and body so desired?  I
had to, I told myself.  I can't, I couldn't live with myself if I had got
it wrong and she had no interest.  What a fucking mess.

   The mum.

   I was sure his fingers had moved a little, had slid down, not far,
perhaps half an inch, but a definite movement.  And a movement in the right
direction, towards my breasts or, was that the wrong direction?  I just
didn't know.  Could this really be happening I asked myself as I had so
many times recently?

   The son.

   I stretched my hand causing my fingertips to slip down her chest a
little.  They were as good as on where her tits flare out from her chest,
although of course due to the lack of support and the way she was sitting
they did sag a little.  That was something I had noticed on the older birds
I'd fucked and quite frankly I loved it and found it sexier than the pert,
upright tits of the younger women I'd messed around with.

   As my fingertips touched her there she may have jumped a little, but
nothing else.  She didn't move, say a word or do anything to stop me. 
Surely that was a silent yes, wasn't it?  I had to find out.

   Lifting my thumbs up so that they could reach the crest of her shoulders
caused my fingers to slide further down her chest.  And this time there was
no doubt; they were on the swells of her breasts.  Her body jerked and her
eyes opened.  A low sigh or was it a moan or grunt slipped past her lips.
But nothing to stop me.  I rubbed her softly right on the upslope although
from the position she was in it was a downslope.  Still nothing.  My heart
was pounding and my pulses were racing as I edged my fingertips further. 
They were now without doubt on her tits.  I could hardly believe it, they
were at least a third of the way up each mound and still my mum said or did
nothing.  She was letting me tit her up as we used to call it.  Did she
want more?  I wanted to ask her, but thought no, that's not in the rules,
talking's not in the game.  But feeling her tits was, that most certainly
was and I did and it was so marvellous.

   The mum.

   Now there was no denying it.  His fingers had moved downward, they had
moved onto the tops of my breasts and they were not stopping.  This could
not be accidental, he was doing it on purpose and I was doing nothing to
stop him.  If anything, I was encouraging him for truth be known I was
loving it and wanted more, much more.

   "Mum, mum," he croaked.

   "Shush Mark, don't say anything be quiet," I replied.

   "What?  What do you mean?" He asked as he stroked or rubbed the tops of
my beasts.

   "Don't speak."

   "What then?"

   "Just be quiet, please don't talk or say anything."

   "But this," he whimpered squeezing me.  "Is this ok?"

   I didn't reply but instead reached up and put both of my hands on the
back of his.  I pulled them so that they cupped fully both of my breasts
and then pressed so he squeezed them.

   "Oh god, oh mum," he groaned as between us we caressed both of my boobs.


   "Say nothing, just be quiet.  No more speaking."

   I removed my hands from his, closed my eyes and laid back on the hammock
as his male instincts took over and he slid his hands inside the top of the
nighty and right onto my bare breasts and nipples.

   The son.

   It was incredible.  She was letting me, no encouraging me to fondle her
tits and by fuck was that lovely?  They felt fantastic, full, round and
soft but not floppy and so smooth.

   I had taken a chance and slid my fingers onto the upward sweep of them
feeling I could get away with it.  If she objected I could just say sorry
they slipped or some other bollocks, but she didn't object and she let me
have a feel before, for fuck's sake getting hold of my hands and pressing
them on her tits.  What a buzz that was.

   I tried talking to her, but she kept making me be quiet.  I didn't care.
As long as she let me at her fantastic rack I was in heaven.  I didn't get
the no talking thing and couldn't work out why she didn't want any chat,
but what the fuck I could be like a trappiest monk if I had a pair of tits
like hers to play with.

   Being a greedy sod and a horny young bloke, I couldn't stop there.  And
directly she removed her hands I got mine down the front of her nighty and
right on them.  They felt fucking delicious as I squeezed and caressed them
and pinched pulled her large nipples that were bigger than any I had ever
touched.  I was just about to try getting one in my mouth when suddenly she
cried out.

   "Stop," and she got up and walked inside.

   The mum.

   I had not had any form of sex other than by my hands and vibrator for
probably a month.  So the effects of his hands on my breasts were extreme
and I started to cum.  I didn't want him to see me like that and I stopped
him and broke away.  I went to my room, slid the nighty off and
masturbated.

   I showered and got dressed as I thought about what had happened.  We had
gone far beyond what I thought we would and I needed to work out what we
did now and how I could contain the situation.  I worked out a plan then
went downstairs.  Mark was not around and I heard him in his room.  He
probably had heard me come down the stairs for he came down a few minutes
later.  He came up to me and said.

   "Mum, was it ok?"

   "Don't mention, never say a word about it."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Exactly that."

   "What we did never happened, right?"

   "How do you mean?"

   "Just that, you must never talk about it, never tell anyone and never
mention it to me, have you got that?"

   "Er yes, yes I think so."

   "Do better than think so Mark, make sure so."

   "Er, ok right then."

   The son.

   Mum had always been a little odd with some of her views and decisions
and I suppose what was happening now fell into that category in two ways.
Firstly, it was definitely odd for a mum to let her horny twenty-year old
son play with her tits.  And secondly then to not let him talk to her about
it seemed weird to me, but then that's just her, my mum, my mum with the
great tits.

   Over the next few days I tried opening up the subject several times as
well as trying to find a reason to have another go at her boobs, but failed
on both counts.  I was sort of beginning to understand what was going on
and my reasoning went like this.

   She had been sexually frustrated since dad and she broke up.  I knew
full well from the sounds that came from their bedroom that they had a
pretty active and energetic sex life almost up to when they parted.  But
now, as far as I knew she rarely had sex other than with herself so she
must be continually frustrated.  In a way I was safe pair of hands.  No
real involvement, no being wooed and courted and sex available on tap.  Of
course there was the mother son thing to consider.  I knew from reading
stuff on the net that blokes fancying their mums was fairly common and
doing something about it, though less common of course did happen far more
frequently than was admitted.  So, she may well have found some comfort in
that.  As for the not discussing it aspect I reckoned that was her way of
handling the guilt of committing incest.  No talk and she could shut it
from her mind.  But then who I am to know or care really?  As long as I got
to play with her tits and maybe more why should I worry?

   The mum.

   I hadn't meant go as far as letting him caress my breasts.  Certainly
not as far as letting him get his hands inside my nighty and right onto
each boob.  But he had and I had let him.  Not just let him but had
encouraged him and revelled in him doing it.  And him playing with them was
such a collision of emotional and physical reactions that I started to cum.


   Later I thought about it a lot.  Of course, I knew that it was illegal,
I nearly said wrong, but I am not convinced of that for I believe that
mothers or aunts should be allowed to teach and educate their sons in the
whiles of sex.  But society has not caught up with my thinking yet so, if
it got out all hell would break lose and I might even end up in jail.

   I couldn't deny that my maternal instincts and love for him had gone
beyond the normally accepted boundaries and now embraced sexual love as
well.  Deep down I knew and had to admit that I wanted sex with my son. 
But not full sex, not yet anyway.  I loved his clear admiration of me and
his lust for me and in a way I wanted to reward him and satisfy myself. 
Hence the foot and leg and then of course the shoulder massgae that
culminated in him fondling my bare breasts.

   It was, however, too complicated a topic to discuss with him.  I didn't
want to talk about the what ifs and whys and wherefores or get into where
this might lead.  Also, by not talking about it I would not have to discuss
intimate and personal matters with my son.  Odd thinking I acknowledge as I
was able to let him fondle and caress my breasts and I knew we might go
further, though I could not for some reason envisage him fucking me, yet I
did not feel able to discuss personal and intimate matters with him.

   The son.

   I hadn't really got any idea what she was up to with the not talking or
whether what we were doing with me massaging her would lead anywhere. 
Obviously, the ultimate would be fucking her.  God the thought crashed
around my mind, fucking my mum, what a buzz that would be!  But I could not
believe that she would go that far.  The question was how much further she
would go as I was up for anything and everything.

   After feeling her tits in the garden that morning I wanted more.  I
wanted to see them, to see her naked, I wanted to kiss her tits and suck
her nipples and I wanted to finger and lick her cunt and, of course I
wanted to fuck her.

   I am not sure that what I felt for my mum Anna was love or lust.  Of
course, I loved her as sons should love their mums, but mine clearly was
different, but was that me or her or us?  Fuck knows.

   During the next few weeks a pattern emerged.  If she was ironing or
working when I got home from college a massage under the pretext of me
helping her cope with her workload was on the cards.  Now though it was not
just her feet and legs, although I did those as well, but sometimes her
back as well.  The indicator for that was that she would be wearing a
nighty or something similar with a lot of her back bare.  When she was
dressed like that she was telling me that playing with her tits was on the
agenda as well.

   The frequency with which we were doing it inevitable increased until it
was every few days, but still nothing was said.  It was really weird when I
came home and she had the nighty or something similar on and I massaged her
back, shoulders, chest and breasts.  Obviously, I got very hard and clearly
she got aroused to the point that she would seem to start to cum and then
would stop and go to her bedroom.  I knew from the low moans what she did
in there and I did the same.  Then, as if nothing had happened we would get
on with the evening, have dinner and do our own things.  Very odd.

   The mum.

   I was becoming increasingly torn.  I had accepted that what we were
doing was on the edge of reasonableness.  Many would disagree, but it
seemed to be working for us and several times a week now Mark would massage
either my feet and legs or my back, shoulders and breasts.  My quandary was
should I take it further?  I was pretty sure, although my embargo on
talking about it prevented us discussing it, that Mark wanted to, the
question that I pondered over was whether I should.  That I wanted to from
a pleasure and satisfaction viewpoint was without doubt, but whether I
should from a longer-term relationship with him and from the risk of being
caught viewpoints made me think hard and long.

   The son.

   We were indoors one afternoon in November, I think, I remember that it
was chilly and damp outside.  I had got home around three and she was
wearing dark blue with white markings yoga pants that fitted her skin tight
everywhere particularly round her hips, stomach and bum.  On top she was
wearing a white vest or singlet that was quite loose.  I had seen her in it
before and then she had worn a black sports bra under it and as she moved
the vest slid around flashing the bra.  I noted excitedly that now there
was no bra and as she moved it was not the cups of that which were flashed,
but her boobs.  When I looked closer, as I did without worrying about her
catching me anymore, I could see the fullness of her breasts moving and her
nipples seemingly trying to burst through the material.  She looked so
fucking lovely, incredibly sexy and clearly up for it.  Nevertheless, I
went through our normal charade.

   "Tough day mum?"

   "So so, I went to the gym."

   "Haven't been much lately have you?"

   "No and it was hard work."

   "Had a shower have you?"

   "No not yet."

   "Maybe you need some help to relax the muscles?"

   "Mmmm sounds a good idea," she said quietly as we built up to our
'play.'

   "Sit on the settee," I said dumping my bag and shrugging my bomber
jacket off

   She sat down and I went to move round behind the back of the sofa.

   "No come here," she said patting the place next to her and turning a
little.  I sat beside her and looked at the top of her back that was bare.
It was lovely.  I ran my fingertips across it and felt a little shudder run
through her as she sighed deeply.

   "Nice?"

   "Yes darling it's always nice," she said quietly as I started a near
proper, though quite soft massage on her back.  "Mmmmmm, it's lovely."

   She was sitting sort of sideways on the sofa with me at a similar angle
with my left hip and leg pressed firmly against her right.  I realised that
she could move away if she wanted to but she hadn't.  That made me wonder
why and go even harder than I had been when I saw her with no bra on when I
first came in.

   "Let's get at your shoulders mum, that's where the tenseness always is,"
I said in almost a croak as I rested both hands on the base of her neck
inside the straps of the loose vest.

   From the positions we were both in I could look down her front and, as
had become usual, her nipples were making huge indentations in the singlet.
The armholes were quite large and the front was low cut so what with what I
could see there and her arms there was so much of her flesh on show it made
me feel faint with desire for it and her.  Looking up I saw her reflection
in the sixty-inch TV screen that was off.  The way the light was shining
made it almost like a mirror.

   The mum.

   I knew that I was pushing things and that I was dressed more
provocatively than I had been previously.  I knew that I was showing more.
I knew that my bare nipples would be making very obvious dents in the
cotton vest and I knew that the armholes exposed the sides of each breast.
Also, I knew that he would massage me and that he would fondle my breasts.
What I didn't know was what else might happen, how much further we might go
and what I might let him do to me.

   Sitting half-facing away from him with the outside of our legs squashed
together I felt his fingers resting gently on my shoulders.  His thumbs
were pressed into the muscles on my back and he was kneading them whilst
his fingers stroked along the apex of my shoulders and pressed against the
straps of the singlet.  They moved a little causing the body of the garment
to pull on my breasts.  Then his fingers moved across the straps and were
touching my shoulders the other sides of the straps.  They returned inside
them, massaged me where my neck joins my shoulders then outwards until they
reached the straps again where they pushed against them, more firmly this
time.  They moved the straps a short way along my shoulders.

   As usual, I had closed my eyes and gone into a sort of trance.  I needed
to be 'out of it' to let my son do what he did to me and particularly the
fondling of my breasts that now he had done three previous times although
he was yet to see them fully naked or indulge his mouth on them.

   The tingling from his fingers on my shoulders spread down my back a
little way and further down my front to fill my boobs that began to have
that gorgeous heavy and full feel to them.

   I was becoming beautifully aroused.

   The son.

   The fucking straps kept getting in the way of me massaging her
shoulders, but what could I do?  Slide them off her shoulders perhaps?  Bit
risky as her tits would be exposed and what would she do then?  Me not
actually seeing them seemed to be another quirk, let alone sucking her
deliciously pert nipples.  Well I could have a go couldn't I?  As nervous
as hell with my fingers shaking I put the tips of them on each strap and
pressed.  No reaction.  I slipped my fingers inside them so that I pressed
on the skin beneath them.  No reaction.

   The mum.

   In my near séance like state I felt him slipping his fingers under each
strap.  What's he up to, I wondered so I did nothing but simply sat there?

   The son.

   I kept my fingers under the straps waiting for her to stop me, but she
didn't and nothing happened.  I pressed my fingers against each strap from
the sides nearer her neck and moved them away from it an inch or so.  Still
nothing.

   The mum.

   I felt the straps moving and the singlet tightening across my chest. 
What's he doing, I thought looking down and seeing how tightly it was
across my tits?  Each strap moved a little further.  He's taking them off
my shoulders, he must be.

   The son.

   I had slid them to the end of her collar bones where they meet the
shoulder joint and still she hadn't stopped me.  Just a little further and
they will be off I was thinking looking down her chest and seeing the
singlet was moulded to each breast accentuating their full roundness.  It
was the best view of them I had seen so far.

   The mum.

   It was obvious now what he was doing.  And that would lead to the
singlet being pushed off my breasts and him seeing them in their full
bareness.  I hadn't meant to go that far.  But then I had not really meant
to go anywhere.  I hadn't meant or intended for him to massage my feet,
turn that into more of a caress, extend that to my calf muscles and then my
upper legs, move onto my back and shoulders and, of course then down my
chest and onto my breasts.  None of it was meant.  I hadn't planned it.  It
had just happened.  As our affection for each other changed and as we
developed a sexual attraction, so a physical need built up and we were
expressing and fulfilling that need in this wordless massage and fondling.
I couldn't help it and I doubt that he could either.

   The straps had reached the end of my shoulders.  A further slight
movement and they would be off them and going down my arms.

   The son.

   As I edged the strap inch by inch towards her arms I was about as
excited as I had ever been.  The only event coming anywhere near this was
when she let me push my hands down her nighty and play with her tits that
first time.

   I never really knew where I stood with her.  I didn't know for sure when
a massage was on and then when it was I had no idea how far I could go.  I
had tried touching her tits a couple of time only for her to push me off,
but then another time she would let me do it and even help me by taking my
hands and pressing them against her boobs.  And of course, on top of all
that and in many ways even more frustrating she wouldn't talk about it or
let me ask any questions.  So, as I got the straps of the vest to the end
of her shoulders I had no more idea whether she would stop me or let me
push them down her arms.  And even if she let me do that just how much
further she would allow to go was a complete mystery.

   The mum.

   Something had been telling me that today was the time to go further,
move to another level, push the boundaries out a little further.  I thought
about us a lot.  I didn't know what I wanted or where I hoped it would go.
Sometimes in those minutes before sleep when total honesty is easier I
imagined him fucking me.  I 'saw' myself on my back legs open and wrapped
round his athletic, youthfully lithe body as he sunk his rigidly hard cock
into my soaked and welcoming cunt and fucked me hard, deep and long.  In
the cold light of day, though, I could not think that way.  I could not
envisage having full sex with my son nor even contemplate the aftermath and
future of such an event.

   That said, I wanted sexual intimacy with him and I was convinced, though
of course we never discussed it he did with me.  I was sure that he
relished our 'massages' as much as I did and I was certain that he wanted
more, but just what was that more and when should it happen?  And as with
all that had happened between us, I had no plan.  I was handling this
sexual relationship with my son in the way that I lived most of my life by
simply going with the flow.  So, as I felt the straps being pulled off my
shoulders and onto my arms, I did nothing and left the ball firmly in his
court.

   The son.

   Fuck she's not going to stop me, it's on.  It's only fucking on I
thought feeling jubilant as I eased the straps slowly off her shoulders and
down her arms.  I stopped just to make sure.

   The mum.

   I looked at the TV screen and saw that he was holding the straps a
couple of inches down my arms.  The angle prevented our faces being
reflected on the screen, but my breasts covered by the thin material that
was taught across them were on clear view.  I saw that the neckline of the
singlet was half-way down each boob and that it would take only a small
movement of his fingers on the straps for my tits to be on full view to
him. As I stared at their reflection on the TV screen I realised suddenly
that showing my bare breasts to my son was the next stage and I wanted to
do that, so I did nothing but simply sat there motionless.

   The son.

   As usual she confused me, kept me guessing and on the back foot.  As I
slipped the straps down her arms she did absolutely nothing.  Then it hit
me that lack of anything was everything for it was a message, an answer to
my enquiry.  It was her saying yes.  Yes, you can pull my top down, yes you
can uncover me and yes Mark you can see my tits.  As I eased the straps
further down somehow containing my excitement and not tearing it down
quickly, my cock was as hard as it had ever been and had it not been for
the fabulous treat awaiting me I would have gone to my room and wanked
immediately.

   By easing the straps down her arms the front of the singlet followed and
I watched over her shoulder and on the TV screen as the tops of her breasts
were slowly revealed.  The edge of the singlet reached the pinkness and
part of her areola were revealed.

   The mum.

   By both looking down and glancing at the TV screen I watched as he slid
the straps down my arms until they were at my elbows which made them lower
than the neckline of the singlet.  That was stretched tightly across my
breasts pulling them together, creating a deep cleavage and accentuating my
swollen nipples.

   It was my last chance to stop him.  I did think about it for taking this
next step could open the way to what?  I just didn't know and the unknown
is always scary!  As I saw the edge of the singlet moving further and
revealing parts of my areola I knew I had to make a decision.

   The son.

   The edge of her top was now almost off her breasts, but was stuck on her
nipples that really were like organ stops.  One more little tug, one pull,
a simple yank and her fantastic tits would be out and on display and at
last I would see them.  I was unsure of what to do.

   On the surface things looked good and positive, but with mum I just
never knew.  She could just as likely get up, walk away and go to her room
as she could let me carry on.  The few times I had felt them when she had
let me slide my hands under her clothes had been amazing, but even as I
fondled them she stopped me from seeing them and I had got nowhere near
getting my mouth on them which was now by big ambition.  Would she let me,
I wondered looking for some signal?

   The mum.

   I made my decision.  Sitting up straighter I took a deep breath that
pushed my boobs out, which caused the singlet to slip past my nipples and
onto the undersides of my breasts.  I was as good as topless for my son.

   The son.

   She did something, fuck knows what it was though and suddenly the
singlet slipped down and her tits were bare.  They were everything and more
than I had imagined.  I was still sitting half beside and half behind her
and taking that as a signal without hesitation I reached round her and
cupped them.  The feeling of them in my hands was familiar, but now having
that further sense of sight being added to touch more than doubled the
sensation I received.

   The mum.

   As my top slipped off Mark's hands went straight to my boobs and cupped
them.  He was getting pretty good at this and as he held each breast in his
palms he pinched my nipples with his fingers and thumbs with just about the
right amount of pressure.  It felt gorgeous and I leaned back against him
with my eyes closed revelling in the fantastic sensations rushing through
me.

   The son.

   The added intimacy of her leaning back against me after the singlet was
bunched round her waist and I was cupping her lovely tits and amazing
nipples was wonderful.  The combination of that and the raw sex of me
groping her tits gave me a heady cocktail of feelings and emotions.  I
wanted more and somehow she knew that.  But then older women do.  Somehow,
they have the instincts and ways about them to anticipate a younger guy's
needs and desires.  And mum was no exception.

   The mum.

   I knew that we could not end like this.  It could not be just a tit
fondling session.  There had to be more.  We had upped the ante and raised
the bar of our sexual association and we needed to go further and the next
move would have to be made by me.

   I had thought about it quite a lot, dreamed and fantasised about it in
fact.  The 'what next' included many things including the rather tame, him
making oral love to my breasts to the more outrageous him fucking me.  In
between there were a variety of oral sex escapades and what.  I reached
decision.

   Still leaning back against him with his arms around me and my tits in
his hands I slid my arm backwards so my hand rested on his leg mid-way
between his knee and thigh.  I felt his body jerk as I rested my hand
there.

   The son.

   Oh fuck what's coming now I thought as my heart pounded when she put her
hand on my thigh?  Is she going to go further?  I asked myself quickly
getting an answer when she started sliding her hand upwards.

   The mum.

   I wanted his cock.  I wanted to feel it and see it.  I wanted to touch
it and hold it, see its size and appearance and wrap my hand round it. 
After resting my hand for a few moments on the inside of his thigh I slid
it upwards right onto the bulge in his jeans.  After rubbing there for a
few moments I broke the silence by whispering.

   "Get it out for me Mark."

   The son.

   Could things get any better than this?

   I was holding my mum against me, my arms were around her, I was cupping
her tits and pinching her nipples, her hand was on my bulge and she had
just told me to get it out.  I could hardly wait.  Unzipping myself with
trembling fingers I yanked my cock out and pressed it against her hand.

   She gripped it and said

   "Mmmmm that's nice Mark."

   The mum.

   I was pleased to feel that my son had a nice cock.  It was a good size,
although more in thickness than in length, though that was quite
respectable.  It felt good in my hand and that made my pulses race and my
heart beat faster.  It was some time since I had held one in my hand and
ages since it had been one as big and particularly as hard as his.  I
stroked it.

   "Oh mum that's lovely," he whispered into my ear still fondling my
breasts and pinching and pulling my nipples that were pounding with sexual
pressure.

   I was really going now.  Practically every part of my body was alive and
tingling.  Mark's hands were all over my breasts and slithering downwards
onto my stomach.  I wasn't ready for that, well not yet maybe later.  I had
to get away.  I needed to cum, but not here, not with him, not with my son
watching.  Somewhat reluctantly I let go of his cock and pushed his hands
away.

   "That's enough Mark," I said with a trembling voice going to get up.

   "No stay."

   "What?"

   "Stay mum, please stay," he asked gripping my wrist and as I turned away
pushing my hand against his erection.  Instinctively I grasped it.

   "Don't go to your room, do it here?" he said.

   Feigning surprise I muttered.  "Do what?"

   Taking hold of my hand he pushed it between my legs making it obvious
what he meant.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  I was in charge, he did
what I said not the other way, but it was happening.  I was sitting there,
my bare tits sagging, one hand between my yoga pants covered legs the other
holding my son's rampant erection.

   Letting go of it his erection I Iaid back into the corner of the sofa
and said softly.

   "You as well then."

   What made me move so far so quickly I didn't know.  But sexual arousal
can make us do the oddest things.  And certainly, setting out to masturbate
with my son as we watched each other would count as odd and I watched with
increasing excitement and pleasure as he struggled his jeans and boxers off
then shrugged out of his tee shirt.  My boy, my baby, my son was naked and
erect with me on that sofa.

   "Ok," he grunted holding his glorious looking dick and starting to pump
it slowly.

   I have always enjoyed watching men masturbate, even the one or two who I
have watched online and Mark was no exception.  I think the combination of
the hand pumping the cock as the eyes almost glaze over and a look of such
intensity comes onto their face makes for a hugely erotic sight.  And then,
of course as the hand pumps faster and the body starts to fuck the hand,
the viewers' interest perks up until she sees the eruption and the
convulsion of the face as the man cums.

   But, of course, this was so different to anything I had experienced
before as it was with my son.  And I was flaunting myself in front of him.
Clad in just my yoga pants with my chest bare and my hand between my legs
where he had put it I was laying back into the corner of the sofa with Mark
with one knee on the sofa and the other bent with the foot on the carpet
beside me naked and pumping his erection.  It was a sordid, but erotic
picture.

   The son.

   Has she gone fucking barmy I asked myself as she sort of turned the
tables on me.  After I had gone for broke by suggesting that she masturbate
here instead of in her room she retaliated by saying I had too as well. 
And what a command that was.  I was soon naked and flaunting my pretty
thick cock at her as I started to pump it.

   I had not seen a woman masturbate in real life only in porn videos.  And
for that first woman to be my mum was simply amazing.  She didn't do much
at first just lay there topless her hand where I had put it between her
legs as she looked at me.  But that by itself was wonderful.  I am by
nature a bit of an exhibitionist and I have in my limited sex life really
enjoyed being naked in front of the other woman, especially the older ones.
And mum was no exception, so I was quite content to look at her and have
her look at me as I started to wank.

   The mum.

   He looked fabulous masturbating in front of me and for a while I just
looked at this beautiful specimen of manhood that had come from my body and
suddenly I wondered, whether it would go back into it?  I shook that
thought from my mind though.  That was too far, that was incest, that was
taboo and that might be a bridge too far.  This was different, this was in
a way mild and a learning process for him, well that's how justified it.

   So I started to rub myself through the yoga pants.  I find wearing them
very erotic and often at the gym I wear nothing but one of those thin,
sanitary towel-like pads under them; no panties or thong.  I have to be
careful about the camel foot situation but the worry of that is worth the
pleasure from knowing the way my bum wobbles and how others are wondering
whether I am commando or not.  So, several times after being aroused by
men's ogling of my, not bad for my age, arse I have masturbated still
wearing them when I have got home and once when I stopped and did it in my
car.

   I opened my legs a little way so that I could get my fingers onto my
clit and then rub along the lips of my pussy and push the thin material
slightly inside them.  The familiar, physical sensations were stimulated
significantly by the newer, unique emotional ones of performing mutual
masturbation with my son.  I slid one hand inside the pants and started
rubbing my clit from there.

   Mark quickened the pace of rubbing himself as he saw what I was doing .

   The son.

   Fucking hell, she's brilliant, she's fucking amazing, I've never seen
anything like this.  I watched as she slid one hand into her yogas and
started to rub her clit while with the other she squeezed her tits.  She
pinched and pulled the nipples and then looking me right in the eyes she
lifted her tit up and licked her own nipple.  Fucking incredible.

   I so wanted to do that, but didn't dare ask.  This was her show after
all she was my mum and sons did as they were told by them didn't they?

   But it was getting too much.  It was just too exciting and I could take
little more.  I was getting near so I slowed down, but that didn't help
much.  I squeezed it harder to try and stop the cum that was bubbling
around in my balls, but that didn't help much either.

   "Mum, I'm so near, I'm sorry I'm gonna cum."

   The mum.

   I was touched by the way he said he was sorry that he was about to cum.
It seemed so incongruous, a son apologising to his mother because he was
about to have a sexual climax in front of her.

   "Don't be darling, it's natural," I smiled reaching out for him but only
being able to touch his leg.  "Come closer."

   He shuffled on one knee a little closer to me.

   The son.

   I knew that I would not be able to hold it very much longer and that
pretty soon I would shoot all over the place.  So, when she told me to come
closer I panicked a bit.  If I wasn't careful I would shoot all over the
sofa so the relief that went through me when she told me what to do was
enormous.

   "Cum on my tits Mark, cum all over mum."

   "Oh fuck," I groaned shuffling forward towards her.

   I had cum in girl's hands before and once or twice when I was younger on
their stomach or thighs as I had premature ejaculation, but never had I
been invited to cum on a woman's tits.  And to top it all it was my mum who
was inviting me to do that.  What a fucking invite I thought as I
positioned myself over her and pointed my dick towards her great rack.  It
got even better, though, when she pushed the two boobs together making one
great big lump of tit flesh with an enormous cleavage between them.

   The mum.

   The look on his face as he got ready to shoot his spunk onto my tits was
a thrill and a pleasure by itself, but that was quickly surpassed when
pointing his cock towards my chest he let a deep groan and said.

   "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck yes," as several streams of cum shot from his cock.
There was so much.  I wondered when it would end as it splattered onto
firstly my upper chest with a few globules hitting my chin and then all
over my tits.  At last it stopped and immediately it had I got up, said
nothing, picked up my singlet and went to my room and cleaned up.

   Normally I would now masturbate, but today was different.  Today we had
gone further and today was a new era for my sexual activities with my son.

   The son.

   It was such a buzz to shoot my cum all over mum's tits, but a little
disappointing when almost immediately I had finished cumming she was off
and went to her room.  I assumed that she had gone there for her normal
reason to masturbate for as far as I could make out she had not had an
orgasm.  But then, I had never seen her have one and I had read that women
differed quite a lot in the way they act when climaxing.  From the
relatively little experience with the women I had shagged I could confirm
that, including one who I could never make have an orgasm.

   I knew from the noises I heard coming from her room more before, but
also since the break-up that mum was a deep grunter and moaner.  So, I
picked up my clothes and crept upstairs and listened outside her door.  All
I heard was the shower finishing and then nothing so I went to my room.

   I cleaned up and lay on my bed naked.  After all that had gone on with
mum I knew it would not be long before I was hard again and wanting to cum.
My hand, as if with a mind of its own went to my cock and my fingers idly
stroked it as I thought back over the events that had gone on today.  We
had certainly moved things forward a long way and my mind boggled when I
tried to work out what might come next.

   I didn't have to wait long for there was a tap on my door and mum was
calling my name.  My immediate reaction was to go to cover myself up, but I
remembered there was now no need.

   "Come in mum," I called out.

   The mum.

   I didn't masturbate, although I wanted to very badly.  My body was
racked with frustration and I needed to satisfy the urge that was streaming
through me.  As I dried myself I saw that my nipples were still hard as
they had been for the past hour or so practically ever since Mark had come
home.  Should I do what had come into my head after he splattered his spunk
all over my breasts, I asked myself?

   God there had been so much.  I had forgotten just how much young men
produced and wondered, smiling, if there were special condoms for them?

   I was in a bit of a quandary having an internal argument between my mind
and my body.  One was saying yes do it and fuck the consequences while the
other was saying, think of the possible consequences and don't do.  I was
torn.

   The son.

   My cock sprung to attention when the door opened and she walked in.  She
was stark, bollock naked.

   "I thought we should finish what we started," she said smiling, her tits
jiggling beautifully as she walked towards the bed.

   What the fuck is she going to do, fuck me I wondered hoping against hope
that she was.

   The mum.

   Even as I walked from the door towards where Mark was lying beautifully
naked on his bed I was still unsure what I was going to do.  Plans and I
don't go well together.  I am a great believer in spontaneity and going
with your gut feel.  I knew that my gut wanted me to satisfy the sexual
urge that had been roaring through me all afternoon, but what else it
wanted I wasn't sure.

   He looked fantastic lying on his bed naked and as I watched I had the
thrill and pleasure of seeing his cock harden and grow, that was a lovely
sight.

   "What mum, what are we going to do?" He asked sitting up a little as I
stood by the bed looking down at him.  God what a gorgeous creature we
created I thought as I sat on the edge of the bed.

   I didn't reply.  There are times when control and direction are best
kept by saying nothing and keeping others in the dark and that's how I was
working with my son.

   "Did you enjoy what we did earlier Mark?" I asked rather unnecessarily.

   "Oh mum, it was fantastic."

   "Ever done anything like that before?"

   "No, no I haven't."

   I decided that it would be quite nice to talk for a while so I got onto
the bed and lay beside him a little way apart and I asked him about his
sexual experiences.  I think he was being truthful in what he told me
especially when he said he had been with three women older than him and
when I asked how old he said about your age.  He went on to explain that he
had found older women to be much better than girls his age.  After a while
we had somehow, and I swear I don't know how, moved closer together so that
our upper arms were touching.  We talked for some time and I found it quite
amazing how he opened up and how we were able to talk more as friends or,
as I realised suddenly maybe lovers more than as mother and son.  He moved
his arm and lifted it up as he was telling me that he had been with six
women in all.  I told him that he was a randy little bugger and he agreed
sliding his arm round my shoulders and cuddling me.

   "You do really, really promise that you will never mention us to anyone
don't you darling?" I asked I snuggled up to him so that my breasts
squashed against the side of his chest.

   "Yes of course I do."

   "There's no of course about it Mark, it needs to be a solemn oath that
you never break," I went on running my hand across his chest and looking
down at his inviting full erection.  "Promise me faithfully."

   "I do mum I promise faithfully," he said his fingers resting on the top
of my breast.

   "I mean it Mark, because you know we, well I for sure could go to jail
if it got out."

   "Yes I know, I promise I will never tell anyone."

   "Good, and especially your father," I told him sliding my hand downwards
and grazing my fingertips along his length.

   He stretched his arm further round my shoulders and squeezed my breast
with just about the right amount of pressure.  God, he learns so quickly I
thought as my fingers almost involuntarily closed round his gorgeous shaft.

   "I hardly talk to him and I wouldn't in any case."

   He grasped my boob lifting and squeezing it.

   "Mmmm that's nice darling."

   "Good as I want to please you mum, I'll do anything to do that."

   That sounded so nice to me and I looked up and into his eyes.  "That's
so sweet of you Mark." There was such a caring and tender look on his face
that I smiled encouragingly at him.  "It really is nice of you."

   "I mean it mum, cos oh fuck."

   "What?  What is it Mark."

   "I shouldn't tell you."

   "Tell me what?"

   "Mum I er, um love you," he blurted."

   "Yes darling and I love you too."

   "No mum I men real love not mum and son love, man and woman love." I
could feel the tears welling up so to hide them I buried my face between
his neck and shoulder as he went on.  "I want to spend my life with you
mum."

   "Mark no don't say that you'll meet someone."

   "No I want you and I don't want to meet anyone, I just want to be with
you."

   With that he gripped my head with both hands, pulled it up and kissed me
full on the lips.  It wasn't technically a great kiss more just a quite
hard squirming of his lips against mine, but symbolically and emotionally
it was incredible.  I realised suddenly that despite the massaging of my
feet and legs, the fondling of my breasts, the mutual masturbation and him
shooting all over my tits we had not until then kissed very much.  In part
that was my fault for I felt that kissing turned sex into affection and
more like love and I was scared to admit that about him.

   I broke the kiss.

   "Sorry mum I shouldn't have done that or said that."

   "No darling it's fine" I smiled.  "Just take it easy go more slowly."

   Looking deeply into his eyes I took his face in my hands, moved closer
and brushed my lips against his before kissing him gently full on the lips.
I gave it the works.  Licking his lips with my tongue, sucking on first his
bottom then top lip, sliding my tongue into his mouth and nibbling his
tongue.  As we kissed so we both rolled onto our sides and moulded our
bodies together.  Our arms were round each, my tits were squashed
deliciously against his chest and his erection was pressed invitingly right
up the length of my stomach with the bottom of it pressed against my clit.
He moved a little against it sending shock waves of extreme sensations
through me.

   "Oh mum, mum," he sighed into my ear.

   "Yes darling I know," answered, not all sure what either of us meant.

   We kissed more, writhing our bodies together and running our hands up
and down each other's backs and down onto our bums.  He eased himself half
on top of me with his gorgeous erection pressing into my stomach alongside
the bone on my pelvis.

   As we kissed so I knew that things between us were changing.  A new
relationship was developing.  The mum and son relationship had gone and was
now just a memory.  The question was were we about to become lovers?

   That scared me and I broke away from him.

   "What's happened mum?"

   "We can't do this," I groaned as I felt the tears running down my
cheeks.

   The son.

   I could hardly believe what was happening.  Mum seemed to have changed
her attitude and mind.  She was more forward.  Walking into my room fucking
naked was a good example of that and she looked fabulous.  Lying together,
holding each other kissing then writing our naked bodies against each other
was surely a build up to us fucking.  But now in my mind it would not be
fucking but making love and there was nothing I wanted more in this world
than to make love to my mother.

   But as always mum was not straightforward.  She nearly always did the
unexpected and threw curve balls.  Just when I was expecting her to roll on
her back with me on top she stopped and pulled away.

   "Can't do what mum?"

   "Go all the way, make love," she sobbed.

   "Ok I understand," I said feeling disappointed and not understanding at
all.  "What can we do then?"

   She smiled and rolling onto her back away from me said.

   "What I came in here to do?"

   "And what was that?"

   Then wonderfully, marvellously and incredibly sexily she took my hand,
pushed it between her legs and looking right into my eyes she whispered
very huskily.

   "Make me cum, please make me cum."

   Fucking hell what a horny phrase that was.  But what a wonderful
invitation too.

   I rolled closer to her and lying on my side I put one arm round her
shoulders and pressed my body against her.  She felt so smooth and smelled
so lovely.  I wanted to kiss her, but she didn't offer her mouth to mine so
I kissed her shoulder instead.  Amazingly she pushed my face down and onto
her breast.  What a fucking brilliant pillow that was to rest my head on!
At first when she eased my face downward I had my eyes closed, but when I
felt the softness of her tit against my cheek I opened them and there right
before me was her nipple.  It looked fucking huge.

   The mum.

   As with pretty much everything all the way through this 'affair' with my
son I was not convinced of what I was doing.  But then the handbook on how
to make love to your son has not yet been published has it?  This applied
equally to when we pushed the boundaries out as it did to when we stopped.
And now stopping him from getting on top of me and shagging me seemed
wrong, but also right.  God how complicated was this?

   The build up to him rolling half on top of me as men do when they are
about to get between your legs and press their cock against your lips had
been tender, loving, affectionate and wonderfully erotic.  Possibly too
much so?  I was not at all sure that I could really handle loving and
affectionate.  Too much of those emotions and I would admit to him as I was
almost admitting to myself that I felt as he had just told me he did.  In
love, wanting to be with him and spend my life with him as lovers or
husband and wife.  I couldn't lay that burden on him and instead I had to
keep this as sexual not emotional, but boy was that proving hard.

   I stroked his face resting on my breast.  It moved and I saw his tongue
poke out between his lips.  It was close to my nipple.

   "Can I?" he croaked with only one meaning.

   In answer I held my tit and pushed the nipple towards his mouth.

   "Oh yes mum," he groaned as he pushed his tongue against it.

   "Mmmmm that's lovely Mark," I sighed.

   He lifted his face up a little and closed his lips round the hard nub in
the centre of the full areola and sucked.  It felt great and made me grunt.
As the same time, he slid his hand down my lower chest, across my waist,
along my, almost, flat stomach, over my bald mound and onto the lips of my
pussy and my clit.  He pressed with about the right amount of pressure
making me wonder how he knew to do that, but that wondering didn't last
long for the rush of sensations was so intense that all other thoughts were
rapidly thrust from my mind.

   Continuing to suck on my nipple and lick my tit, his fingers slid all
around my slit before two or three I guessed slipped inside me.  The
feelings were instant and intense and almost immediately I started to cum.
I groaned, sighed and grunted as I gripped him tightly with my body
shuddering and shaking and almost convulsing as my climax burst over me. 
He had certainly done as I asked and made me cum.

   The son.

   I had, of course, fingered girls and played with their tits and sucked
their nipples before, many times actually.  But doing those things to mum
were somehow different.  I don't mean the size of her boobs which are
larger than any others I had fondled, but more the emotional side of
things. As I licked her gorgeous tits then sucked her large and wonderfully
hard nipple into my mouth the sensations were so much stronger than with
the other birds.  Equally when I slid my fingers along her soaked cunt lips
and got them inside the feelings were so different to with the other girls.
But then mum's cunt was different, after all it is where I came from.  That
thought hit me as slipped two fingers inside her and I got a feeling of
reverence and that was so powerful.  As I started finger fucking her and as
her body responded so wonderfully, and that's something I love with older
women they don't mind illustrating, almost flaunting their enjoyment, I got
more strange feelings.  It was almost as if I belonged there and having my
fingers up my mum's cunt was the most natural thing to do.

   The mum.

   I was very busy with work after that momentous day in bed naked with
Mark and that was a blessing in some ways.  It kept us apart and stopped
what may well have been inevitable, us having full sex.  I was still scared
of that.  I realise that it is illogical, but then sexually aroused people
act that way especially, I imagine, mothers who are sexually aroused about
their sons!

   Increasingly, since those first foot massages a few months ago, my mind
dwelled on the future.  I had no idea just how it would pan out and how our
relationship would develop or not.  When I was naked in his arms holding
his delicious cock and he had told me that he loved me and always wanted to
be with me, I was thrilled.  I liked hearing his words and learning of his
sentiments and feelings.  But I was also worried.  If he really and truly
was in love with me and wanted us to spend our lives together and live, as
he had put it, like husband and wife that created massive problems.  And
quite frankly I was not I was up to taking the vitriol and bad feelings
that such a relationship would cause with my friends and her family.  On
top of that there was the near twenty-five-year age gap.  I was unsure
whether I would be able to handle the issues that would bring.  Twenty and
forty-five was, just about manageable; thirty and fifty-five became
difficult; forty and sixty-five would cause sexual and relationship issues
and fifty and seventy-five was impossible.  Also, of course, there was the
legal situation to consider and the ridicule and accusations of friends and
neighbours.

   I was not all sure I was emotionally strong enough to handle all those
aspects of the situation that I largely was putting the pair of us in.

   On the other hand, I wanted intimacy, affection and yes sex with my son.
I was becoming more and more infatuated by him and his gorgeous cock.

   Luckily, I suppose, I had to go away on business for a few days so any
further activity with him was curtailed.

   The son.

   It was fucking stupid really to tell her.  Why did I open my big mouth?
Why the fuck did I tell her that I loved her, wanted to be with her and
wanted to share my life with her?  It was just plain stupid.  The biggest
fucking problem, though, was that was how I felt.  Bollocks.

   The afternoon in bed with her had been the sexiest time of my life.  Her
body overall was awesome, her tits and nipples were fantastic, her arse,
even though I had not got to do much to that yet, was great and her legs
were brilliant.  She kissed better than anything I had ever snogged and her
touch on my cock, balls and that little patch of skin between them and my
bum was amazing.  She knew how to touch a man, what to do to turn him on
and how to arouse them to a fever pitch of excitement.  Largely, of course,
all the technical lovemaking stuff was to do with her age and experience.
The other older birds I'd been with were pretty good like that as well;
more confidence, know what they want and what men like and all that.  But
with her it was different.  No, not really different as the physical
sensations were pretty much the same, but more intense.  And for the first
time in my life there were such strong emotional influences as well.  And I
put those down to love.  Yes, I loved my mother as a woman as well as a
mum.

   Although she still prohibited him talking about it after we finished and
frowned upon much of it during sex, I knew she was worried, well more
scared really about us going all the way and me fucking her.  And that, of
course, was what I wanted more than anything.  The times I had done it when
I masturbated and even imagining it when I fucked a girl I was carrying on
with.

   As she wouldn't discuss it I had no chance of trying to persuade her to
change her mind or gain an understanding of why she wouldn't.  I mean we
had done pretty much everything else including me shooting all over her
tits and then finger fucking her to an incredible climax as I sucked her
tits and chewed her nipples.  So why not let me fuck her?  To me it made no
sense, but then, after all, she is a female!

   I tried thinking of ways that would make her change her mind and hit on
a plan.  I sent her a text on the day she was due home.

   'What time you due home, I'll cook dinner.'

   I did from time to time do that so it would not be that big a shock.

   'bout 7, ty' came back.

   I prepared all the stuff, just pasta and salad and some crunchy French
bread I got at the Co-op, checked there was white wine in the fridge and a
bottle of red uncorked on the table and waited.

   The mum.

   The drive home was a bit of a nightmare and it was nearly twenty past
when I got there.  I had tried phoning, but I was out of battery.

   The son.

   I was beginning to get worried.  Mum's always on time so I phoned, no
reply, fuck straight to messages.

   The mum.

   I was well pissed off by the time I got home and was hoping that the
silly little bugger hadn't tried cooking something that was time sensitive
and that it would be spoiled.

   The son.

   I had got ready for her arrival just before seven and now three beers
later I was beginning to get not only worried, but a little pissed and
annoyed.  Then I heard her key and the door opening.

   The mum.

   I walked in calling out.  "Sorry I am late Mark, I hope I haven't
spoiled anything."

   The son.

   "No not all except........................," I called out pausing for
affect as I heard her footsteps on the tiling floor of the hallway.

   The mum.

   Dropping my briefcase and overnight bag in the hallway I walked into the
kitchen calling out.

   "Except what darling?"

   "Except this," my naked son said holding his cock that was half-erect.

   I was flabbergasted.  I could hardly believe what he was doing. 
Although his body looked as lovely as always the setting of his nudity in
the kitchen diner area looked out of place.  Stupidly really I replied.

   The son.

   "Mark what are you doing?" she asked.

   "Being ready for you mum, I thought you liked me like this."

   The mum.

   I was nearly overwhelmed with feelings and emotions, but what came into
my mind was 'What the fuck is he doing?'

   It was almost as if all that we had done together hadn't happened.  This
did not seem to be a natural extension of our relationship or something
that should be happening.  Whether it was because he was taking the lead
and making decisions or because being naked when I got home was not the
norm or natural, I didn't know, but the scenario did not give me the sexual
or affectionate lift that he probably hoped it would.

   The son.

   I could tell from the look on her face that I had got it wrong and had
made a cock up.

   "I've fucked up haven't I?"

   "Oh Mark, I'm sorry but yes you have, this should not happen," she
replied.

   "Bollocks sorry," I said leaving the room and going to my room.

   What a fuck up I thought to myself as I sat on my bed my hard on gone
completely.  The penny dropped suddenly.  I got an understanding of what
the fuck was and had been going on.  If she yielded to my advances she
would lose control.  I should have known better than to try to push things.
I should have realised that this was her show, she called the shots, she
was in charge, not me.  It was her way of defusing the guilt.  Sweep things
under the carpet, don't admit they had really happened.  Give in to my
advances and suggestions and this was just like the flings she'd had with
numerous guys since she and dad had split.  And she did not want it to be
like those.  This was different, this was hers, her production and I was
the willing puppet in her show.  My part in the show was to be her support,
her associate not her leader or co-star.  I was realising that there cannot
be equality in an incestuous relationship.

   The mum.

   I felt bad about rejecting my son.  I had never knowingly rejected his
father all the time we were together, even when I did really have
headaches! But this was different, much different.  Letting him have me
when and how he wanted was taking things far too far.  It was changing the
taboo relationship we had to one of normality.  It would be making mother
and son sex 'normal' and not the forbidden, abnormal and extreme series of
events it really is and should be.

   On the other hand, though, my body was crying out to be invaded by him.
I wanted to feel him inside me and back where he had come from.  Most of my
waking hours nowadays he was in my mind.  His face, his lithe, fit muscular
body and of course his delicious cock.  I felt his body against mine, our
legs intertwined, my breasts squashed against his chest and his cock
filling me to overflowing.

   Over the next few weeks, I had opportunities for sex with other men, a
couple of old flames and a new client, but that had no appeal.  Naturally I
masturbated most days and just as naturally Mark was the feature of my
fantasies as I stroked and fingered myself or as I buzzed to a climax using
my vibrator.

   Although I had fought it and had resisted the temptation to let him have
me fully and completely, gradually I was weakening, my resolve and my mind
were coming round to thinking, 'why not?'

   The son.

   Was it my imagination or was she changing her mind?

   After my sexual faux pas she so easily, it seemed, gave into my advances
that I began to think she might be.  But then knowing mum I knew I could
not be sure.

   One evening we were both home early and we'd had a nice dinner with a
bottle of wine.

   "How about watching a movie on Netflix," I suggested.

   I was pleased when she agreed and she sat with me on the sofa, very
close.  I slid my arm round her shoulders, I pulled her to me, I kissed her
hair, she rested her hand on my leg well above my knee.  I touched her
breast and then feeling no resistance cupped it and squeezed it.  I lifted
her face and we kissed just as brilliantly as we had on the bed last time.
I got some buttons on her blouse undone and slid my hand in.  I scooped
each tit out of her bra.  My cock nearly exploded when she undid the last
few buttons, took her blouse off then turned her back and whispered.

   "Undo me love."

   It's odd how some thing can seem so important and erotic when really
they are rather minor and taking my mum's bra off was one of those.  It
seemed hotter than the massages, her wanking me and even me fingering her
until she climaxed as she had last time.

   We sat like that with her topless for some time.  We kissed occasionally
and then as we both got aroused she slid her hand up the inside of my leg
right onto my bulge.

   The mum.

   God knows what got into me, but I had this yearning to act as if I were
young again and 'snogging,' as we used to call, it on a sofa watching a
film filled that bill beautifully.  Of course, Mark would not have known
why I was so amenable to his advances and may well have believed that
tonight was the night to go all the way.  I was not sure myself about that
and that uncertainty increased as we kissed and embraced, as he caressed my
breasts and as my blouse and bra came off.  It was so arousing just sitting
there kissing and cuddling with him occasionally cupping my breasts or
sucking my nipples.

   My hand slid up his leg and I cupped his bulge.  I unzipped him and got
it out.  We slid his jeans and boxers down and off and he removed his tee
shirt.  With him naked and me topless this really was advanced 'snogging.!'

   Of course, he was beautifully and stunningly hard.  It seemed to be the
most natural thing in the world to bend forward and kiss it, so I did.  It
then seemed the second most natural thing in the world to then take my
son's cock into my mouth and make oral love to him.

   The son.

   A couple of the older birds who I had fucked had sucked me and given me
blow jobs, but none were anywhere near as good as my mum.  She licked and
kissed up and down my straining cock, cradled and gently scratched my balls
and that patch of skin behind them and then varied between taking it deep
into her mouth with just having the head in there and her tongue pressing
on the pee hole.  It was fucking magic and soon as her head bobbed up and
down I joined in that rhythm and began to fuck her face.  I was thrusting
upwards with my arse off the sofa, my cock deep in her mouth making me
wonder whether she was deep throating it, and me roughly almost squeezing
and fucking around with her tits and nipples.

   The mum.

   I could tell that he was near and knew that a decision was needed.  Take
him out and have him splatter on my tits and face or keep it in.  The
decider was Mark.  He grabbed my head and groaned.

   "Oh fuck I am so close, want me to take it out?"

   His reward for being considerate was for me to grip the base of his cock
more firmly and shove my mouth purposefully downwards.

   "Oh mum.  Mum, mum," he groaned as spurt after spurt shot from it into
my mouth and throat.  I felt I was gagging and looking up at him I
swallowed my son's cum.

   The son.

   I could hardly believe it, but she had let me cum in her mouth and had
swallowed it.  Could there be anything better than that?  A week or so
later I found out there was something, apart from fucking her, that was
almost as good.

   The mum.

   It knew now that for sure we were on the slippery slope downwards to
committing incest in its fullest sense.  More significantly emotionally
than the sex, though, was the way our relationship was developing.  Apart
from some minor incidents the days of me being an authoritative parent had
gone.  More and more in our relationship we were becoming lovers.  We were
almost like husband and wife and my gut feel was that as our sex became
even more intimate, so our relationship would become even closer.  That
scared me.

   Over the six or so months that we had been doing anything I had become
accustomed to the sex.  I had got used to being naked with him, seeing his
cock, holding it, us kissing and having his hands over my body, his mouth
on my breasts and his fingers in me.  I managed to segment those times from
normal life.  Still, though, I would not and could not talk about it.  We
could talk as we had sex, but once we finished then the subject became
taboo.  I would answer no questions and have no discussion with him either,
about what we had done or, how I felt about the whole affair.  It was
easier that way, well for me it was.

   Additionally, I was relaxed now about instigating sex.  For the first
few months there needed to be an excuse for us to start, almost if it was
by accident.  But the day we went to bed and came so close to having full
sex changed that.  Now I felt able and did just approach him and off we
went.

   The son.

   It was getting easier to get her going.  Although I had to be careful in
trying something, we no longer had to fuck around with pretending that she
was tired and needed her feet, legs or shoulders massaged.  I could at the
right times just take her in my arms and kiss her and then off we would go
and off would come our clothes.  Mostly, though it was mum who started
things.  Not as overtly as the daft thing I had done by being naked when
she came home, but with more subtlety.  A glance, a phrase, the holding of
my eye or a touch would tell me she was up for it and open to my advance.
Nothing basic or as crude as her saying anything, she had far too much
style for that.

   And of course, slowly we were going further.

   "You staying in tonight love?" she asked one Tuesday evening looking
into my eyes.

   "Yes I fancy a quiet night in.  How about you mum?"

   "I've got nothing planned and a quiet night in together sounds lovely,"
she said holding my gaze.  I knew something was on by the way she looked at
me and immediately my erection started.

   "Just you and me mum?"

   "Mmmm yes sounds lovely."

   I got up, went to where she was standing by the table and placing my
hands on her hips said.

   "An evening in together like this mum?"

   "Yes," she whispered as we kissed.

   The mum.

   I was able to go days sometimes without doing anything with him and
without hardly thinking about sex with my son.  But then something would
trigger inside me and I would want him so badly.  That Tuesday I came home
from a meeting expecting to work on a new project during the evening.  But
when I was in the room with him and saw him something seemed to explode
inside me.  He looked so gorgeous, so beautiful and so eminently fuckable
that all rational thought went from my mind.

   He kissed me and pressed his erection into my stomach.  He really was
like a fucking machine I inwardly giggled thinking that erection must have
come about in just ten seconds or so.  My ex and other forty to fifty
something guys I had been with would take minutes to get nowhere near as
hard as him I thought.

   "Undress me darling," I found myself whispering as his hand slid inside
my sweater.

   I was naked within no time at all.  I didn't help him undress as I love
the sensation of being undressed whilst my partner is clothed; I also like
it the other way as well.

   I moved us to the sofa and sat down.  We were still kissing.  I rubbed
his cock through his jeans as he kissed, licked, sucked and chewed my
nipples; he was getting rather good at titty sex.  I pushed his tee shirt
up, but did not remove it and rubbed my breasts against his chest.  As
usual it was lovely.

   I had snuggled back into the corner of the sofa with him lying half on
me and half on the cushions.  His hands were all over me and I was holding
his erection inside his thin sorts.  As usual it was rock hard and felt
great.  We were now kissing passionately with him alternating between my
mouth and my breasts.  As he was nuzzling them I grasped his head and
pushed it, downwards.

   "Lick me darling," I whispered.

   He moved himself around so that he was kneeling on the sofa with his
knees pressing against my waist and hip with one hand under my back, the
other across my legs and his face on my stomach.

   The son.

   Her wet, warmness was the most wonderful oral experience I had known.  I
had licked and sucked two of the older women I'd been with but not the
younger ones, so this really was something special.  Not only because I was
pretty raw at it, but because it was my mum's cunt that I was licking.  And
boy was it wonderful.  Of course, I was not quite sure what she wanted me
to do or, indeed, what I should so I just did what came naturally.  I
licked around each lip, between them then up to find and push my tongue
against her clit.  Her reactions told me that I was doing pretty good.

   The mum.

   I love oral sex both giving, but particularly receiving.  I like to
think I am pretty good at the former and knowledgeable about the latter. 
So, when Mark licked me I was expecting to be disappointed.  I am not sure
whether it was because it was him, my son and it was so intimate and
totally taboo or because the little sod was good at it but immediately his
tongue touched me down there my body and mind reacted quite energetically.
The sensations that roared through me were extreme and intense.  I felt as
if I was having convulsions as my back arched and I lifted my bottom off
the sofa pushing myself more firmly against his mouth and tongue.  I
grabbed his head and pulled that towards me.

   "Oh my god, yes," I groaned and then a deep long grunt escaped from my
mouth.

   Although he had only really just started I began to cum

   "Ok mum, is it alright?" he asked reaching up with one hand for my tits.
I grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand firmly against them squirming the
top part of my body against it.

   "Oh darling yes," I groaned as my orgasm crashed through my body so
quickly and strongly.  "Yes, yes, yes, it's wonderful."

   The son.

   Although it was incredible making her cum and experiencing the warm
wetness of my mother's pussy on my mouth, there was inevitably something
missing as I was still dressed in my shorts and tee shirt although that was
rolled up around my neck.  Ok her hand was rubbing me, but that was not the
real thing and I wondered what was going to happen to me.

   The mum.

   Despite the intensity of my climax I somehow realised that Mark was
still dressed and although I was holding his straining prick it was through
the material of his shorts.

   "Undo them," I manged to groan through my orgasmic tremors.

   He sat up, undid them, pushed them down and I helped him struggle them
off.  Immediately I grabbed his cock and starting pumping it.  I was
probably going too fast, but as my orgasm was roaring through me I had lost
all sense of subtlety and tactful lovemaking.

   The son.

   Her juices were like a drug.  Licking and sucking her velvet-like lips
and drinking her female excretions I felt as though I was getting high.  It
was like when I smoked a weed.  My mind went wild and my body even more so.
They both increased in intensity when she told me to undo my shorts and we
managed to get them off.  She grabbed my cock and started to wank me
seeming to be as out of control and aroused as I was.

   As she pumped my cock faster and faster and I as struggled my head
further between her legs so I could get my tongue deeper into her cunt I
slid more onto her.  I was now laying on my side my legs pointing up past
her head with my cock level with her tits.

   The mum.

   God knows how we got into such a position but his cock was near to my
breasts still with his head between my legs, well more on my stomach.  I
turned almost onto one side and letting go of his cock I pushed my tits
together round his prick and he did what I guess came natural to him, he
started to fuck them.

   My orgasm seemed to just go on and on as he more vigorously thrust his
cock in and out of the surrogate cunt that I was making with my tits.

   "Oh mum, mum, mum," he groaned.

   The son.

   I couldn't stop it if I had wanted to.  My mind and body were being
stimulated in so many ways that it felt as though my cock simply exploded.
I doubt whether I had ever shot so much cum as I did all over her chest and
face.

   The mum.

   It had been a long, long time since I had experienced such a strong
mutual climax as I did making oral love to my son.  As we finished and he
slid off me and we lay side by side so I tentatively worked out where he
had shot his cum.  Most of it was on my chest with a load under my chin
where it had shot out and come to rest.  There were large splodges on my
face, especially my lips and cheeks and one lens of my glasses was covered.

   I kissed him, got up from the sofa, picked up my clothes and without a
word went to my room and cleaned up.

   The son.

   As part of my college course I had to go on an assignment for three
weeks the next day.  That was a shame as I felt we were getting ever closer
to what I now more desperately than ever wanted, which was for us to make
full and complete love, yes I wanted to fuck her.  Not just fuck her
though. I wanted a lot, lot more than that.  I wanted us to be affectionate
to each other, be intimate, laugh and joke, kiss and hold hands.  Be like
real lovers.  I wanted to take her out, go to bars restaurants and clubs.
Go dancing and visit museums.  Go away, on holidays and weekend breaks.  I
wanted, desperately to sleep with her.  Go to sleep with her in my arms and
wake up holding her my morning hard cock against her bum and then make love
again.

   It was more, a great deal more than just sex.  I had got over that and
gone well beyond it.  Yes of course I wanted as much sex as I could
possibly have with her and to be frank I could not get enough of it, but I
wanted something else.  As I frustrated myself on the assignment 250 miles
away in the Lake District I realised and acknowledged what it was.  I was
head over heels in love with my mother and I wanted to spend the rest of my
life with her as her lover.

   The mum.

   Although I was burning up with anxiety I played it cool when I said
goodbye to Mark at the station.

   "Only three weeks love, it'll soon go," I said pecking him on the cheek.

   If only I thought to myself it was that easy.

   I had got used to having him on tap.  I had become accustomed to him
being at my sexual beck and call and having sex when and how I wanted.  How
the hell I was going to go three weeks without him I had no idea.  But was
it sex I would miss or him or, more to the point, I thought with a start
was it sex with him?

   During the first week I masturbated every day and sometime twice
thinking of being in Mark's arms with him deep inside me every time. 
During the second week I could stand it no longer.  I had never really been
that promiscuous or that in need of sex that I had one-night stands, but
now that had an appeal.  The thought of being fucked by anyone was so
attractive that I was tempted to go to one of the local bars and let
someone pick me up.  No, that wouldn't work for where would we go.  A
couple of the local hotels had nice bars and were usually quite full of
businessmen all of who of course had their room.  But then the idea of
being with a man other than Mark hit me and I began to doubt whether I
would be able to do that.

   So as the second week turned into being the third I found myself phoning
my friend Jill.  She knew immediately why I phoned her as the only times I
did that was when I wanted something.  And she knew exactly what that
something was and was only too pleased to provide it.  Like many females I
never feel that having sex with a womn is being unfaithful to your man.

   The son.

   It was hell.  Sheer unadulterated hell.  Not only did I miss the sex
with her, but more pointedly I missed her, every second, minute, hour of
every day.  I wanked myself like crazy, two, three and on a couple of
occasions four times in a day.  It was made even worse by us not being
allowed our phones, tablets or laptops so I could not make contact with her
at all or even look at the few photos of her that I had managed to 'steal'
with my phone when she wasn't looking.

   The mum.

   The longer he was away the more in my mind us making love became
inevitable.  As that registered with me so I wanted him to make love to me.
And as the third week dragged on so my mind focused on the how, where and
when of it, not the if!  I began make plans in my mind.  That excited me,
but at the same time aroused me and that led to yet another masturbation
session.  I had to relieve myself for otherwise I feared I might go to a
pub and let myself be picked up and fucked and that I really did not want.
Well that's not strictly true for I did want to be fucked, very much
indeed, but not by just anyone.  It was my son who I wanted to have sex
with and doing it with others would be me being unfaithful to him.

   The son.

   At last at long, fucking last I was on my way home.  I swear on the
coach to Preston and then on the train that came from Scotland and took us
to London I had a hard on all the way.  The loos on the inter-city trains
are great to wank in as they are quite spacious and have a large mirror. 
Plenty big enough to have mum with me in there leaning forward hands on the
sink as I fucked her from behind while the train roared along at 100 miles
an hour as we looked in the mirror.

   As I got off the coach my phone and laptop were returned to me.  Sitting
on the station waiting for the train I opened up my photo store that I kept
on the cloud.  Apart from some of the raunchy photos of porn stars I
fancied there was an Anna album.  There wasn't much in it as I had to be
careful for I hadn't dared tell her I wanted some photos of her to use when
I jacked off.

   There was the one where she was asleep in the lounge laying back on the
sofa with her legs stretched out and the other where she was in the foetal
position.  Unfortunately in both she was wearing jeans, but the focal point
was where her top was stretched tightly across her tits making them look
even larger than their great size and the jewel in the crown of mum's bobs
was the clear outline of her nipples that looked as if they were hard.

   Others included her in a bikini sunbathing on the terrace that I had
shot from the kitchen window, another of her standing up and walking
towards me in the bikini and a third in that of her walking away from me
her gorgeous arse swaying from side to side.  There were a few of her fully
clothed with a couple where she was flashing a lot of leg and two where I
had got her deep cleavage, The piece de resistance though were the two I
had got after we'd had had sex.  One from the rear after I had cum in her
mouth as she wandered away with her clothes in her hand and the other naked
bending over with her bare bum in the air.

   They came in handy as wank material on the train.

   The mum.

   I couldn't stop myself.  I knew he was getting a train at two in the
afternoon and that by then he would have his phone back so I sent him a
text.

   'What time are you due home?'

   The son.

   'Fuck it's her,' I said to myself as I saw mum on my phone screen.

   'About 5, lovely to hear from you,' I typed back.

   'And you, anything special you would like for dinner?'

   I nearly typed, 'yes you,' but resisted and instead typed.  'Anything.'

   "Steak ok?'

   'be lovely.  Ty.'

   'See you soon then.'

   'yes as soon as I can.'

   'Mmmmm nice, look forward to seeing u.'

   'Not half as much as I am.'

   'What?'

   Knowing how she didn't like to discuss our 'other life, I hesitated
before plucking up all my courage and typing.  'Oh mum I have missed you so
much.'

   The mum.

   He had put the ball squarely in my court.  It was down to me.  I could
change the subject, move to another topic, ignore what he had just said or
respond how my heart and head and, increasingly my body wanted.  'He's
missed me so much.' Was that me he had missed as his mother or me he had
missed as a woman.  Was it his mum or his lover that he missed so much?

   During the nine months or so that we had been sexually active I had
purposefully led him away from discussing our relationship.  I tried even
to suppress discussion as we had sex and certainly immediately after it I
banned it completely.  But now he was coaxing me down the path of talking
about it and, I realised that I wanted to.

   'I have you too."

   'Have you really mum, have you really, really missed me?'

   'Yes darling yes I have.'

   The son.

   'Christ, she's talking to me.  She say she's missed me, but what the
fuck has she missed?' I was thinking as her written words buzzed round my
mind.  I plucked up courage and just as the train stopped at Milton Keynes
I typed.

   'What have you missed most?'

   The mum.

   He really is putting me on the spot asking such enquiring questions, I
thought realising that I was actually enjoying this written conversation
with my son.  But could I tell him, could I answer that direct question,
could and should I tell him that I missed having sex with him?  I dodged
the issue, well to an extent.

   'Everything darling, everything about you."

   Almost immediately his reply came back asking what I dreaded, but also
wanted to hear so much.

   'That include our lovemaking mum?'

   The son.

   I knew that I might blow it just as I had that time I had greeted her in
the nude, but I felt I had to try.  I had to find out and push the
situation further.  I had thought so much about us this past three weeks
that now they were over, well nearly, I felt they may have been good for
us. Certainly they had straightened out my thinking and had shown me
clearly what I wanted.  And in simple terms, the terms of a young love and
sex struck bloke, I wanted to spend the rest of my life fucking my mum as
much and as often as I could.

   So with my fingers crossed I asked the question.  The wait for the
answer seemed interminable and I wondered whether it would ever come.

   The mum.

   Bloody hell where was this going?  The little sod asking such a question
what was happening to us and to me?  What should I do?  Should I own up? 
Should I tell him?  Fuck, fuck, fuck, I was losing control of the
situation. Losing control of my emotions and falling under the spell of a
man just as I had several times before.  I just didn't know what to do so I
did nothing as I thought.  But something else seemed to take over, a
greater force maybe and almost as if beyond control I saw the word.

   'Yes' appear on my phone screen.  Then the next big decision press send
or delete.

   The son.

   At last.  At last, fucking last.  My Samsung Galaxy was showing 'yes.'

   The mum.

   It was nothing like I had envisaged it.  Although I had resisted
accepting that Mark and I would have sex, I had imagined it.  In fact lying
on my back one hand between my legs and the other squeezing my tits and
pinching my nipples I had imagined it many times.  In those fantasies,
though, it had been planned, the scene had been carefully set, there were
candles and music, we took our time and everything was languid almost in
slow motion.

   The son.

   The tube home could not go fast enough.  I am sure I was hard all the
way and I almost ran from the station to home.  My hands were shaking as I
fumbled the key into the lock.

   The mum.

   There he is I realised as I heard the door opening.  I ran to it and saw
him.  What a gorgeous sight I thought as he dropped his bags and I fell
into his arms.  We kissed deep and long and this time we did speak.  We
said our hellos and our I have missed 'yous' as we squirmed our mouths
together with me totally forgetting he was my son.  And when he asked if I
had really missed our lovemaking I answered.

   "Yes, my darling, yes, yes I have."

   "Oh mum that is fantastic, so have I?"

   "Every day Mark , every minute of every day, I have missed you and
missed it."

   "So have I mum, I am so sore from jerking off."

   "You naughty boy," I giggled as his hand found my breast in the long
sleeved tee shirt.

   "Oh mum you are not wearing a bra."

   "No I took it off for you."

   "Oh fuck you are such a sexy bitch I love it," he groaned slipping his
hand inside my tee shirt and right onto my breast.

   Things went fast from there.  Our clothes came off quickly and we got to
the bed with me just in my knickers and Mark in his boxers.

   The son.

   I could hardly believe what was happening and for a while I was scared
to ask, but I had to know.

   I had to get the answer.  I had to find out why she was so forward, why
she was talking so much, what she wanted and what was going to happen.  It
had not been like this before.  All the other times, although incredible,
they had been a little mechanistic.  She decided what she wanted, took it
then fucked off.  This was so different.  It seemed to be impromptu and off
the cuff with more passion and affection.  Yes, of course she was still
leading the way, but then you would expect that with most older women and
younger men, but not as directly as in the past and she had taken her bra
off for me.  Fucking brilliant.

   I struggled to ask her but eventually as we lay on our sides facing each
other on the bed I managed to say.

   The mum.

   "Are we going to make love mum, are we really?" He asked seemingly out
of the blue.  There was no point in buggering about now.  We had gone too
far, no I had gone too far, I had let my guard down, surrendered I suppose.
Or looking at it another way, I was doing what I wanted to do.  I kissed
him and writhed my aching breasts against his lovely chest.

   "Yes darling, yes we are going to make love," I whispered sliding my
hand inside his boxers right onto his gorgeously hard cock.

   "Oh mum thank you, thank you," he muttered kissing me and slipping his
hand inside my black lace, boy short knickers and right onto the cheeks of
my bum just as I starting rubbing his erection.

   "Now, can we do it now?" He mumbled making me grin at his innocent
enthusiasm.

   The son.

   'Fuck it's on she said we are, she's going to let me fuck her.'

   Now I couldn't wait.  I started to push her black knickers down but got
them caught on her full hips and by the bed so she helped me and that in
itself was a turn on.  Your own mum helping you take her panties off, fuck
me how cool was that.  Just about as cool as her pushing my grey CKs down
which was she did next.

   The mum.

   Naked, I pushed his underpants down and his lovely cock seemed to leap
out from them and squirm itself against my stomach.  It felt great.

   To be truthful the rest of this first fuck by my son was a bit of a
blur. We kissed, I rolled onto my back and he clambered on top of me.  It
didn't occur to me to be any more adventurous with our position than
missionary just as him wearing a condom didn't enter my head.  I wanted to
feel every inch of him and, in any case, I was protected by my pill and
probably my age as well and I was pretty sure I didn't have to worry about
STDs with him and I knew he didn't with me.

   His arms went around me and he pulled me more firmly against him, that
was nice, it was so intimate and caring.  My breasts were squashed against
his chest and his erection was, if anything, pushed deeper into the
softness of my stomach.  Although not that interested in a man's size,
Mark's cock was significantly larger, particularly in girth than any I had
experienced in recent years and I was almost salivating at the thought of
it giving me that delicious stretching feeling.

   Due to our positions and his head being on my shoulder I couldn't see
his face, which was a shame as I would have loved to look at him and see
his expression as he entered me for the first time, but that was not
possible unless he leaned back and up and that could well spoil the mood
and atmosphere.

   I opened my legs a little as a hint for him to carry on and he got the
message.  He snuggled down so he pushed them further apart and the tip of
his cock nuzzled against my lips.

   "Oh mum," he groaned in a husky tone that I could hardly hear as his
mouth was buried in my hair.

   "Yes baby," I replied stroking his head.

   "Ok mum, is it ok?"

   "Yes darling yes, yes, yes, it's ok, do it."

   The son.

   She wants me to fuck her.  At last, at long last she's going to let me
have her.  Fucking hell does she really mean it, I haven't got it wrong
again have I?  Just to make sure I ask as the tip of my cock slips between
the lips of her cunt.

   "You sure mum, you really mean it?"

   "Yes Mark, yes, yes I do, please make love to me."

   It's on, she's up for it, she wants to be fucked.

   "Ready mum?"

   "Yes my love, my baby, yes I am ready."

   And as she finished telling me that so I shoved my hips forward probably
a little too quickly, but I couldn't help that as I so wanted to be inside
her.  The feeling as her lips and then the inside of her pussy wrapped
itself round me gripping my cock every bit as tightly as the young birds
I'd fucked was amazing, but somehow it was different to with them.  This
wasn't just any old cunt I was now inside, it was my mother's cunt, the
cunt from which I had been born.  Whilst that, obviously was an emotional
explosion it also felt so physically different to any I had been up before.
I

   I was so aroused and stimulated with thoughts and feelings that I knew I
wouldn't last long.  That made me worry as to what she would think of me as
a lover.  Would she be disappointed in me?

   The mum.

   It is hard to put into words my feelings as my son entered me.  The
whoosh of sensations as any man goes up you as his hard cock stimulates the
nerve ends inside you is a wonderful physical reaction.  Of course there is
an emotional element to it as well.  That will vary dependent on who it is
and the relationship you have with the invading party; husband, lover,
friend with benefits, fuckbuddy or one-night stand all have varying
emotional influences on a woman.  But none can come anywhere near to the
explosion of emotions that a mother has when her son enters her for the
first time.

   As Mark slid slowly into the place from which he had been launched into
the world, the tears started.

   "Oh my god," I sobbed, gripping him as if trying to get more of him into
me.

   "What mum, are you ok, is it ok?"

   "Yes darling yes.  Oh yes, it's wonderful," I groaned planting little
kisses all over his cheek and mouth.

   My emotions were exploding and I had lost control of my body as a
totally different type of orgasm burst over me.  There was hardly any build
up for one moment there was very little and the next fireworks were
exploding, bells were ringing and my entire body was convulsed with the
most intense sensations.  My arms round his neck I clung to him as if
trying to survive in deep water and thrust myself at him trying to pull
more of him deeper into me.  My bottom came up off the bed as I climaxed
more powerfully than I could ever remember.

   The son.

   She was without doubt a monumental fuck.  By an enormous margin the best
I had ever had and, probably was ever likely to have.  Her responses to me
were so extreme and intense that I had no need to worry that I might cum
too soon for no sooner was I in her than she started to cum and at the same
time, cry.  I was unused to both, but with her they each seemed so right.

   I didn't hold back and as she lifted her arse off the bed I rammed
myself in and out of her as hard and as strongly as I had fucked any
before.

   "Oh mum, mum I'm so near."

   "Yes darling, yes so am I?"

   "I'm gonna cum?" I groaned into her ear almost adding do you want me to
take it out?  Even in my incredibly aroused state I realised that she was
running the show and had she wanted protection she would have made me wear
a rubber, a supply of which I knew she had in her bedside table drawer
hidden under some fashion mags.

   The mum.

   I had lost the ability to think rationally or to be aware of time or
what was happening.  I had no idea whether we had been fucking for seconds
or minutes.  But that hardly seemed relevant as my body and mind took me to
the place Mark was reaching, a mighty orgasm.

   "No, no I want to feel you Mark, cum inside me, cum in mummy," I sighed
back hardly able to string words together.

   The son.

   That was it.  Those words did it.  They finished me off and took me over
the top and I started to cum.

   I had not really been into all this mummy stuff and she had not
encouraged it, but somehow in the acute state of arousal I was in the
phrase 'cum in mummy' sounded so right.

   "Yes, mummy I am going to cum in you."

   "Do it, do it baby cum in your mummy."

   "In you mummy."

   "Yes, in me up me."

   "Up you mummy," I groaned knowing what I really wanted to say but
feeling shy to say it to her.

   The wonder of having sex with older women showed itself then.  They know
what to do and say, what they want and can anticipate what you want and mum
was an ace at that.  She gave the perfect response.

   "Yes darling up mummy.  In mummy baby, right in mummy's cunt."

   That word so right in these circumstances.  I had heard several of the
slags in the clubs and pubs use that word usually along the line of 'he'd a
right cunt' and one of the older women had said.  "I want you to fuck my
cunt." The latter had been exciting and former rubbish but hearing mum talk
about herself like that and saying that she wanted me to cum in her cunt
was just about the most exciting words I had ever heard.

   The spunk poured out from me in a long stream that splattered her
insides.  I seemed to cum for ages and I bet I dumped more in her than I
had in any other woman.

   The mum.

   Although the feeling of spunk being deposited in you is modest to
nothing the sensation as your entire body registers the release of it from
your lover is always wonderful and with my son it was incredible.  He
seemed to cum for an age as I rode his cock with my intense and so extreme
orgasm.

   So considerately for a young man he held me through my post orgasm
traumas as the shudders slowly resided.  Tears were pouring down my face
and I was sobbing almost uncontrollably.

   "Mum, mum are you ok?" He asked lifting himself up and looking into my
eyes.

   "Oh yes my darling I am so ok I can't tell you."

   We lay in each other's arms for ages.  Occasionally kissing, now and
then touching, talking a little and stroking each other both knowing that
it would not be long before we did it again.  We dozed for a while and I
think that rejuvenated him for I felt him stirring against my leg.  I
reached down and he was semi-erect.  I held it and rubbed it gently.

   The son.

   It was the most intimate, romantic, erotic and horny experience of my
life.  Laying naked with my mother as we cuddled and touched each other I
quickly recovered and wanted her again.  I can always be ready again easily
within an hour, but with mum it was probably only half that time before she
was holding my cock as it grew to its fullness.

   The mum.

   Feeling a cock grow against you, in your hands or mouth is always
wonderful, but that sensation as my son did it was beyond my wildest
dreams. He took hardly any time to go from being flaccid to rampantly hard
and needed little help from me.

   I kissed him on his cheek then fully on his mouth.  Our tongues duelled
as he squeezed and pinched my tits and nipples and as I slowly stroked his
cock.  Inexorably we moved towards the next bout.  I pushed the duvet back,
eased him onto his back and lay on my side beside him supporting my head
with one hand and rubbing his magnificent erection with the other.  I
smiled at him as reaching up and cupping my tits he smiled back.

   "Ok my darling you have fucked your mummy, now let us make love."


   pics---->> http://bit.ly/2jj3ShK