A Silent Affair

I woke up and opened my eyes, yawning. I'd come home to spend a long weekend with my parents, and I was in the bedroom I'd always had as a boy. I stretched and swung my legs out of bed, looking around at the familiar surroundings - nothing had changed.

I went to the bathroom and showered and shaved, then I made my way downstairs, hearing my mother in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Everything was just the same - my mother always got up first, then me, and finally my father.

Mum and I said good morning, and I gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. As usual, she was in her old cotton dressing gown, and as I glanced down at her I glimpsed her bare breasts, and I knew that she had nothing on under it. That was something else that hadn't changed either - if my parents had had sex the night before, she was always naked under her dressing gown first thing in the morning, as she was now. She followed the direction of my eyes, and, as always, she looked at me almost sullenly, and I knew that, as always, I was staring at her resentfully. She had a wide, full-lipped, almost permanently pouting mouth and heavy eyes that gave her a brooding expression at the best of times – it was a look that I, and most men, found incredibly tempting.

When I'd arrived last night, Mum had been wearing skin-tight jeans that showed her bottom off to perfection, and a thin black sweater. The sweater was as loose as her jeans were tight, plunging in a vee so deep that not only were the inner sides of her breasts visible, but also their perfectly sculpted undersides – no bra, of course. I'd felt a spurt of arousal then, and I felt it again now.

I went to the refrigerator to get some orange juice, just as my mother turned back to the stove, and we collided – her dressing gown parted slightly, and the backs of my fingers touched her bare thigh.

It was almost like an electric shock. My mother froze – it obviously affected her, too, and it was as if she was carved out of stone, staring straight ahead, her hand still reaching for the frying pan, while my hand rested against her warm thigh.

I had a sudden vision of her lying naked on the bed last night while my father fucked her – without thinking, and almost as if I didn't know what I was doing, I pulled her to me and kissed her on the lips. I expected her to push me away, but for a moment she stood motionless while I worked my mouth on hers, and then, at first almost imperceptibly, she started to respond. Her lips parted, and she raised one arm, her sleeve sliding up, and then she slipped her bare arm round my neck as she crushed her soft breasts against my chest, returning my kiss with a passion I would never have imagined.

Just then I heard my father coming downstairs – we both knew that he would first collect the newspaper from the front door, so that we could prolong the kiss for a few more stolen seconds, and then I reluctantly released her, still feeling the softness and warmth of her body through her thin dressing gown. Dad came in and said good morning, and I said the usual things, and he and I sat down at the kitchen table while my mother put plates in front of us and poured the coffee.

As she leaned towards me, her dressing gown gaped open, and I stared at her full, naked breasts, capped with stiff brown nipples. I raised my eyes, and saw that she watching me look at her – her expression was unreadable, and I briefly looked down at her exposed breasts again before she straightened and got her own plate.

We talked about the usual things, how we'd slept, the weather, things like that, and I mentioned that I'd arranged to visit some friends who lived nearby – did a look of sudden disappointment cross my mother's face? Then my father lost himself in the paper, and Mum and I fell silent. We were sitting side by side, opposite my father – if I glanced sideways as she leaned forward I could glimpse one bare breast, and she seemed to lean forward frequently. She crossed her legs under the table, and her dressing gown parted and fell away from her thighs – my father was still concentrating on the paper, and I surreptitiously put my hand on her bare leg, marveling at its smooth softness. She caught her breath, but she didn't push my hand away ...

I wanted to help her with the dishes after breakfast, but she insisted on doing them herself – did she guess what would happen if we were alone together again in the kitchen, with her naked beneath her dressing gown?

It was well into the evening when I got home, almost time for dinner. My mother was wearing a simple blue dress, quite short and fairly low-cut, enough to reveal the tops of her swelling breasts. Her arms and legs were bare, and she wore a simple necklace and high-heeled sandals that showed o her painted toenails.

My father remarked on how glamorous she looked, and she said that she'd wanted to dress up to celebrate my being at home. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and she knew it.

She'd laid the table in the dining room, and I helped her carry the food through from the kitchen. As soon as we were alone, I took her in my arms and kissed her – her dress was cut very low at the back, and I ran my hand over her bare shoulders, feeling her body mould itself to mine, while I made no effort to prevent her from feeling my erection pressed against her soft belly.

During dinner, our eyes met constantly, and I gazed at her bare arms and shoulders, and the shadowy valley between her breasts. Then she asked me to refill her wine glass. I got the bottle and stood beside her, enjoying an even better view of her cleavage, but then I saw that she'd pushed her chair back slightly from the table, and hoisted her dress up over her thighs. Incredibly, she wasn't wearing panties, and I glimpsed the thick bush covering the base of her belly.

Equally incredibly, she chatted casually throughout the meal, while all I could think of was her nakedness under her dress. Our eyes met from time to time, and I saw her put her hand down under the table – was she fingering herself while she looked at me?

After dinner, we all cleared up together. I managed to touch her a few times, and when she crouched down to put things away in a cupboard I got a glimpse of her naked thighs, but not what was above them ...

Then we settled down to watch TV – there was an old film on that we'd all seen before, but nobody seemed to mind, and anyway all I could think of was my mother. My father sat in his usual chair to one side, and my mother and I sat on the sofa, close together. It seemed natural to put my arm round her, and she snuggled against me.

My father was only a couple of feet away, but he was staring intently at the television, and my mother turned her face towards me and I kissed her briefly. We stole a few more kisses from time to time, and I stroked her bare arm, letting my fingers graze the side of her breast.

Then my father dozed off, his head dropping to his chest. My mother turned towards me, and I kissed her properly, running my free hand up her bare thigh under her dress. She was dripping wet – she squirmed against me as our mouths opened and our tongues clashed.

We kissed wetly, while I fondled her under her dress, until my father grunted and sat up. I removed my hand from between my mother's legs without him noticing, but I stopped stroking my mother's arm and instead I kneaded her breast. I could hear her breathing faster than normal, and I tightened my fingers on her breast, and we stole another quick kiss.

Then she got up to get a tissue from the kitchen – once outside the door she turned back to face me – I could see her, but my father couldn't, and then, very slowly, she lifted her dress to her hips, baring herself for me. Again, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable.

When she returned, she snuggled up to me again, and her hand dropped to my groin. This time I draped my arm round her neck, making it easy to put my hand down the front of her dress and fondle her bare breast. I played with her rubbery nipple, rolling it between my finger and thumb, and then squeezing it. It was already engorged, and I felt my mother stiffen. Then she covered my hand with her own through her dress, forcing me to tighten my grip on her nipple. I pinched it harder and harder, until she bit her lip and shuddered. Had my father turned his head slightly, he would have seen his wife squeezing his son's penis through his jeans, while his hand was down her dress, feeling her breast, but he was still engrossed in the film.

After a while I transferred my attentions to Mum's other breast, but then I couldn't take any more, and said I was going up to my room. I half hoped that my mother would follow me, but she just said goodnight casually, and offered me her cheek to kiss.

Some time later I heard my parents come up to bed. After a while, I went to the bathroom, but just as I reached it the door opened, and my mother stood there, with just a towel wrapped round her naked body, knotted above her breasts. I took her in my arms and kissed her, feeling her body still damp from her bath. Once again our tongues entwined, and I squeezed her soft breast through the towel.

The kiss lasted several minutes, and then my father called out: 'Liz? Where are you?'

'Coming!' my mother called back, still in my arms and staring into my eyes. Then she took my hand and led me to the door of their bedroom. She squeezed my hand and put her finger to her lips, before releasing my hand and going into the room – but she left the door ajar.

'George,' she said softly to my father, 'I want it again tonight. Look at me – I want you to see me naked ...' I saw her drop the towel, and I knew that she was talking to me as she ran her hands over her body.

My father laughed. 'I'll give it to you all right, you bitch! After seeing you in that dress all night, and now seeing you without it!'

I could see the lower half of the bed, and I saw the bedclothes pushed back, and my father's pyjamas thrown to the floor. My mother crawled up the bed, and I could just see her kiss my father's penis and fondle his testicles. I heard him groan, and saw him reach down for her.

'Do me now, George – I can't wait!' She rolled onto her back and my father slid on top of her. I saw her guide his cock into her – I pushed the door open another couple of inches, and saw my mother staring at me over my father's shoulder.

Still staring at me, she writhed beneath him. 'Oh, Christ, I want it so badly ...'

I watched as he fucked her, seeing his cock ramming into her repeatedly, his hand gripping her breast, hearing him grunting, while all the time she stared at me. Then she started to moan, her body bucking under my father, grinding her body against him, until her back arched and she cried out. I couldn't stand it any more, and crept silently to my room.

I couldn't sleep, and just lay there staring at the ceiling, and then a little later I heard her cry out again, and knew that my father had fucked her once more. I hoped that she would come to my room after my father had fallen asleep, but she didn't ...

My parents had always had an active, and varied, sex life. I often heard him spank her, and sometimes he 'lent' her to his friends. I remember one occasion when I was in the garden, outside the living room. Dad came into the room with a friend of his he often played golf with.

I heard him laugh. 'Harry, your eyes are sticking out like organ stops! She's got a terrific body, hasn't she?'

His friend said something I couldn't hear, and then Dad said: 'You can have her if you like – providing I can watch!'

Again the man mumbled something, and Dad laughed once more. Then he called to my mother. 'Liz! Come here! I've got a surprise for you!'

Mum came into the room as I peered through the window. She had on a yellow bikini top, just a couple of scraps of material that did nothing to hide her nipples poking against them, and tight white shorts that showed off her long legs. Her hips oscillated provocatively as she strolled towards the men.

My father fondled her breast. 'You know Harry Turner, don't you, dear. I'm letting him borrow you ...'

Mum looked the man up and down wearing her usual sultry expression. 'All right,' she said eventually, and reached behind her back to untie her top. She dropped it to the floor, and then, bare-breasted, she pressed herself to the man and kissed him, rubbing his cock through his trousers. Then the three of them left the room to go up stairs, and I could only imagine what happened ...

But that was a long time ago. Now, the morning after I'd seen and heard Dad fucking my mother, when I came down she was in the kitchen as usual, but this time when I kissed her good morning it was on the mouth, and I slipped my hand inside her dressing gown to fondle her naked breast, while all the time she stared at me with that enigmatic expression on her face.

It was Saturday, and my father was going to work on the vintage car he'd been restoring for years. My mother asked me to help her in the garden – she'd put on a pair of very abbreviated shorts, and a blouse knotted under her breasts. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra, and I saw my father glance at her, but he didn't say anything.

My mother and I did some weeding, and then we went into the shed, where she'd planted some seeds in pots. No sooner than we were inside, I grabbed her and kissed her. Several buttons of her blouse were already undone, but she unfastened a couple more, and took my hand, putting it inside her blouse, and I caressed her breast, feeling her stiff nipple in the palm of my hand.

'Oh, Christ, Mum, I want ...' I began, but she cut me off sharply, her eyes flashing.

'Don't say anything about it – ever!'

But then she kissed me again, and fumbled with my zipper. She struggled to free my throbbing penis, and then she sank to her knees and began kissing it eagerly, licking it and stroking it until she took it in her mouth. It was like heaven, watching her working on my cock, and much too soon I lost control and erupted in her mouth ...

Later, she sucked me again, and I finger-fucked her while she masturbated me, always looking at me with that strange expression of hers.

At lunchtime we all went to the local pub for a drink and a sandwich. My mother came to the bar with me while my father found a table in the beer garden. She stood very close to me at the bar, rubbing her breasts against my arm, and I caught her staring at me in the mirror behind the bar, again wearing her inscrutable look.

We had lunch, and then I went to get more drinks. I carried them outside to the table – I was behind my father, and he didn't see me. My mother leaned towards him and stroked his face, although she was looking at me.

'God, I'm turned on! I'd like you to do me right here and now!'

My father started to say something, but then I put the drinks on the table and sat down.

When we got back to the house, my mother took his hand and looked at me sullenly.

'We've had too much to drink – your father and I are going to have a lie down!'

I went back into the garden – it was an hour before they appeared, and then my mother took me behind the garage and masturbated me until my semen spurted into a flower bed ...

That evening, I phoned some friends and met them for a drink – I didn't know what might have happened if I'd stayed at home – I was sure that I'd make my father guess what was going on. I got home late, and everyone was in bed. Again, I hoped that my mother would come to me, and again I was disappointed.

The next morning my mother was naked under her dressing gown once more, and I could only imagine what had happened the night before. Her lips were puffy, and her eyes had dark semi-circles under them - and I thought she looked gorgeous. Again I kissed her and felt her bare breast before my father came down, but at breakfast he announced that he was going to play golf.

My mother kissed him dutifully, and almost before we heard the front door close we were moving towards each other, my mother loosening the belt of her dressing gown. Then the car started, and she stopped and dropped her dressing gown to the floor, to stand facing me naked.

I couldn't wait – I just took my cock out pushed it in her, and I fucked her as she leaned back against the kitchen table. Feeling my cock deep in my mother's vagina was an incredible sensation – I'd imagined it countless times, but the reality exceeded my wildest dreams.

She leaned back, gripping the edge of the table to brace herself, her breasts thrust towards me as I fucked her furiously. All the while she stared at me with that inscrutable expression of hers, but then she shuddered and bit her lower lip, just as I exploded into her. She screamed, and for the first time closed her eyes for and instant, then she collapsed against me, flinging her arms round me as my semen spurted into her endlessly.

My mother was moaning, and I started to kiss her as she clung to me limply, panting for breath. She gave a little cry and looked at me imploringly as my cock slipped out of her, but I scooped her up in my arms and carried her upstairs to my room – all the way we were kissing, with her arms twined around my neck while I gloried in the sensation of holding her naked body in my arms.

I laid her on my bed, and she watched me as I tore my clothes off. Then, as I stretched out beside her, she crawled down and started to kiss my cock. I hadn't softened completely, and I soon began to harden again as she worked on me, kissing and licking me and nuzzling her face against my head and shaft. Then, when I was fully erect once more, my mother straddled me and impaled herself on my now throbbing cock.

She fucked me slowly, rising and falling above me, while I caressed her heavy breasts, fondling her nipples and sinking my fingers into her soft, yielding flesh while from time to time she leaned down to kiss me passionately. This time it took me longer to ejaculate – my mother carried on fucking me, her skin slippery with perspiration, her mouth open as she gasped for air, until I finally erupted, flooding her vagina with my semen once more.

Again my mother screamed and fell on top of me, her body jerking uncontrollably as I held her in my arms, kissing her frantically. At last we lay still, our bodies glued together and our legs entwined, while I stroked her damp body, feeling her shudder slightly as the tail-end of her orgasm swept through her.

From star to finish, neither of us had said a word. I longed to tell her I loved her, and that I'd wanted her for as long as I could remember. As a boy, I'd been incredibly excited by odd glimpses of her in her (very revealing) underwear, and pressing myself against her at every opportunity. There were the times when we'd all gone on holiday by the sea, and I'd been unable to take my eyes off her in a skimpy swimsuit. And swimming in the sea together had provided plenty of chances to touch her legs and body. Several times I'd caught her staring at my erection creating a tell-tail bulge in my swimming trunks – I think that was the first time I'd noticed that enigmatic expression of hers when she looked at me.

One Saturday morning, I was lying naked on my bed, masturbating. Suddenly the door opened, and my mother walked in, carrying an armful of freshly-ironed clothes. I paused, startled, holding my cock, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she put the ironing down on a chair and just stared at me. Unexpectedly, I found that her looking at me like that was enormously exciting, and I started to rub my cock again. Still she just looked at me impassively, and I kept rubbing myself until I couldn't hold back any longer, and I ejaculated wildly into a handful of tissues. Still Mum kept watching me, until I took the tissues away and continued playing with my wet, softening cock.