In View of Vesuvias

But then, what could words do at a time like this? What good was explaining or discussing? What part had our minds to play in this? We were indulging our bodies, gratifying our physical need not our emotions. Weren't we? Or were we really venting our emotional needs? Or both I began to realise. But explaining that even to myself let alone to you, as I felt my fingers sliding inside the waist-band at the back of your shorts, was more complicated than my limited eloquence could handle. The bare skin of your arse on my fingers sent yet another massive shudder of want through me. I groaned, deeply, it was such a gorgeous sensation. I groaned even deeper, though, as I slid my hands right up to my wrists into your shorts and felt all of your wonderfully pert arse cheeks. If that was a fantastic feeling, when I then felt your hands following mine and doing the same to me, that was simply indescribable!

You were now following my lead. You squeezed my cheeks when I squeezed yours. You ran your fingers and hands over them, you pinched my bum flesh as I pinched yours and together, still kissing, we cupped each others cheeks. We pulled on them and we squirmed my belly, pubic mound and clit against your stunningly hard, despite the water that was now starting to feel cool, cock.

You followed me as I pushed on the waist band, you followed as I rolled it down, you followed as I slid the top of your shorts over your hips and down your outer thighs. You did to my panties, precisely what I did to your shorts and both were now dangling on our legs near to our knees. Our arms couldn't reach, they had done their job, they had uncovered what we both desperately wanted to reveal, to expose, to see touch and feel; your naked cock and my bared pussy. Our own feet fiddled the interfering garments off and cast them into the pool; my panties floating on the surface, your shorts sinking to the bottom

Your bare erection against me was one of the most exciting sensations I had ever experienced; it was right up there with losing my erection, shagging your dad for the first time and my first dalliance with another woman. Yes having my young son's naked, erect cock up against was simply sensational. I almost had a convulsion when I tried momentarily to imagine what it would be like inside me, but failed. If it was this exciting to have it pressed against me, the feelings to have it in me, were clearly indescribable.

I pushed you back. I looked into your eyes, I smiled, I reached behind me and I undid my bra. I took it off and let that float away on the water as I got my tits out for you.

We were naked together.

Your hands found my breasts and you fondled them nicely. Nicely? What a fucking understatement that is.

But this was not the place. No, it was not the location for a mother and son to make love. A swimming pool was not where my baby should fuck me.

I took your hand and led you from the pool. We picked up the large towels, wrapped them round us and we stood and kissed. I took your hand again and led you into the house, through the dining room, past the kitchen, by your bedroom towards mine. As we approached my room, you leaned round me and opened the door for me. I walked through it as you stood to one side. As I squeezed past you my towel fell to the floor and I walked towards my bed completely naked. I turned, looked at you and held my arms out and said.

"Come to mummy, my baby."

Peter

At first I was scared. We had shared a perfect kiss, full of power and passion. It was the sort of kiss I'd had with a number of girls and with Cassia, my dad's hooker, who had taught me how to kiss. It was the mouth open, lips squirming, tongues plundering type of kiss I had always fantasised about with you. But I wasn't getting just the excitement I had visualised; no other feelings were intruding too.

You had helped me out of my shorts, indicating that it was ok for me to help you out of your panties. And that I did, with a seriously pounding heart and shaking hands. Other than your bra, which amazingly erotically you removed for me, god the confidence that must take and the way that differentiates an older woman from the kids I had been with, we were naked. And then without a word you pulled away. All the old feelings flooded back: shame, confusion, fear. But the look in your eyes washed those doubts away. The love, the acceptance, the warmth and the tenderness replaced them. You took my hand and led me out of the pool. Without the water, I suddenly realised how exposed we were, how vulnerable we were making ourselves to each other, and was amazed that it didn't matter. There was no fear now, there was little apprehension and looking from my totally stiffened cock to your awesomely hardened nipples, I realised there were also no inhibitions.

I didn't question anything as you wrapped a towel around yourself; you were cold and wet, this was no rejection. I simply picked up a towel and did likewise.

You lifted your face to mine and kissed me tenderly, not wildly passionately as we had in the pool, but a quick kiss and then took my hand and led me through the house. You were suddenly so small. You had to reach up when you kissed me, and your hand was small and dainty.

When we reached the bedroom and the towel dropped you made no effort to hide your nudity. In fact I think you let the towel drop on purpose, what assurance, what confidence and what a simply amazingly horny action that was. I was amazed. So much had changed. We were now lovers. You were a beautiful, shapely woman and I was a man.

I took in the whole of you, head to toe. Long curves, large breasts, soft skin and hair that seemed to surround your face like the frame of a masterpiece.

"Come to mummy, my baby," you said, holding out your arms, and once again we changed - I was your son, you cradled and loved me, you were my mother, I loved you.

I dropped my towel, took your hands and you lay back on the bed. You took me with you, and I was lying on top of you, your arms around my shoulders and my arms were around you and we were kissing. Our bodies were pressed against each other, your hips were moving against me and my erection was pressed into the womanly softness of your stomach. I was so tinglingly aroused, that my entire body was acutely sensitive. Unconsciously, as all my male, as opposed to your son, instincts kicked in, I began moving my hips naturally and easy. Your hands were massaging my shoulders, running all over my back and stroking my bum and I was running mine down the side of your body and legs. I fumbled at where our chests were pressed together and wonderfully I was able to get my hand between us. You grunted as I cupped your nice, full breast and squeezed it. To get my hand between us, I had to lift up a little and I took my head away from where it had been beside yours. Our eyes met for the first time since we had come to bed. You smiled; I smiled back as probably we both thought 'Is this really happening?'

With our eyes locked you placed a single kiss on my lips and, still smiling, you opened your legs and drew your knees up.

And suddenly my erection was pressing right against your lips. I could feel the warmth and the moisture. You nodded, as if to say that it was ok, and let me go just enough to put one hand down between your legs and take hold of my penis.

"We can't have any accidents can we," you whispered expertly, or so it seemed to me, rolling a condom on me.

That was enough to make me shudder. With a small laugh you guided me towards your soft, pink opening. The tip of my penis was against the flesh of your pussy. All that was left to do was thrust.

Cat

Somehow God, or some other superbeing, only knows how, I came to my senses. At really the very, very eleventh hour, it all hit home; the enormity, the taboo, the no going back, the guilt. They combined in one crashing crescendo of comprehension, concern and consideration: I came to my senses. I think it was slipping the condom on you that was the final straw

I started to cry. The sobs wracked my body as I rolled away from you onto my side, my bum inadvertently pressing against you erection.

"No darling, we can't we mustn't," I sobbed. "It's so wrong, we have to stop."

"Oh shit," you grunted, understandably probably hugely frustrated and highly pissed off.

You rolled onto your back, I turned towards you.

"You do understand don't you Peter?"

In the dim light coming in through the open windows and French doors, I could see that you were almost crying. You ran the back of your hand across your eyes.

"Oh yes, yes I do, but I don't know," you whispered huskily.

I felt awful. Partly for being, what in my day was called, a prick tease, but mainly for having let things get so out of hand. Yet part of me felt good. My alter ego, my better self was saying smugly 'You have done the right thing, sex between a mother and son is wrong and sinful.'

I moved a little closer intending to try to console you and make you understand. My breasts touched your arm. It was like an electric shock, your flesh on mine. I looked down and saw that you were still hugely erect. It took all of my will power to stop me reaching out and stroking it. You really did have a gorgeous dick. Smiling, almost, I thought to myself 'Well then a mother would say that wouldn't she?' In my mind I replied' Not about her son's aroused cock she shouldn't'

"I'm sorry mum," you groaned not looking at me I noticed. I wondered whether that was from embarrassment at what we had done or because my nudity might arouse you more, just as yours did to me. I rolled onto my back and thought about the enormity of what we had done and the even greater enormity of what might have happened.

"No Peter, it's my fault, I am your mother. I should have not let this happen."

"I guess you're right M, but I er."

"No going back Peter, it's behind us now. You go to your room and we'll talk in the morning. Things are always better in the cold light of day."

I watched you get out of bed and walk naked, not bothering to pick up your towel, messy sod, from the floor. God your arse was awesome. It was so pert and firm, yet rounded and as you strode away from me it wobbled a little from the sway of your hips and the wiggle of your torso. Even as the door was still closing my hands found my breasts and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before they found the other intimate parts of my body.

As, in my mind, you fucked me superbly I thought to myself

'How the hell can we spend the next six days together and not give into the almighty temptations that took us right to the brink of incest this evening, our first night away?'

Peter

I was angry, frustrated to the point of pain. Under the guise of understanding I went back to my own room and grabbed my cock. I was not gentle with myself as I pounded away, fantasising about walking back into your room and forcing you to satisfy me. Jets of sperm erupted from me. I didn't care where they landed.

In the moment of clarity following an orgasm a wave of guilt washed over me. You were my mum, and I loved you. I still do. I shouldn't be fantasising about raping you. I stared at my still-hard cock. It twitched.

I fell asleep sobbing with the pain of a frustration that masturbation could not cure and the guilt of a man who wanted to hurt someone he loved.

The next morning I was expecting awkwardness, but in fact the opposite occurred. It was as if nothing had ever happened. We laughed and joked over breakfast and decided what we were going to do for the day. It was as if we had each separated into two separate beings, and it had been our 'others' that had got into bed last night.

That is not to say I was any less attracted to you. As you brushed against me in the kitchen I still felt a pang of desire, but we acted as if nothing had happened. Denial is indeed a powerful tool.

Cat

I'm not sure that I slept at all that night. I probably did doze off, but it didn't seem like it. With the windows open, the villa didn't have such mod cons as air conditioning, there were frequent noises, windows rattling a little, doors creaking and all the sounds you get with an old sprawling pile like this. Each time I heard something I imagined it was you; you getting out of bed, you opening your door, you crossing the landing towards my room and you outside my room. I could almost feel your presence, but of course it wasn't you, you didn't come to me. I am sure that had you have done so I would not have the resistance I had shown earlier.

I was so nervous as I showered and dressed for the next day. I didn't wear much, but I was careful and I avoided anything tight or revealing. I chose a simple yellow, mid-calf, nearly ankle length, yellow dress with buttons right down the front. It was fairly loose so I guessed I could get away without a bra, something I can well do without during the heat of a Southern Italian day and so under it I just wore a little white thong.

Looking in the mirror just to check that everything was ok, I was a little worried that when I stretched the material might frame and emphasise my breasts and accentuate my nipples so, smiling, I resolved not to stretch in front of you.

I was amazed at you. You were wearing just a white vest and faded blue shorts. Your muscular, sturdy arms were as bare as mine and your long, toned legs looked awesome. You had a slight tan that I knew from yesterday was nearly all over, presumably from the week in Florida you had spent with your father not long ago. But although the look of you, as it often did, slightly took my breath away, it wasn't that which especially amazed me. It was how relaxed you were and how that reacted on me being able to conduct myself almost as if nothing had happened.

We had breakfast, cleared up and then you asked if I would like to go and see Pompeii. I said that I would, but that I had been several time so you suggested you would go by yourself.

"It's dead easy, I'll run you to the station and then it's only a few stops and it drops you right by the gates."

You left at just after nine.

After dropping you at the station I did some shopping, just the basics for food in the villa. I went back, stored them away and made a call.

"I thought you were arriving last night?" The female voice at the end of the phone asked.

"I did."

"Why didn't you call?"

"It was awkward, I'm with my son."

"I thought you were coming alone?" She asked.

"I was, but things changed right at the last minute."

"I see, how old is he?"

"Just eighteen."

"Well, if he's as good looking as his mother and father he should be lovely."

"Oh he is," I replied.

"Look Caty, I have to got to Roma for a couple of days.

"Oh really?"

"Yes I was going to ask you to come with me, but with your son you presumably can't."

"No Bella I can't, I am sorry."

"That's such a shame, it's a business trip, all expenses paid and I have a suite in the Grassi overlooking the Spanish Steps, very romantic."

"When will you be back?"

"Late Thursday, ciao bambino."

"Bye Bell," I said feeling a little disappointed.

"Oh Caty, also if your son gets bored, you can always give him my number," she laughed, probably more than half serious; Isobella was a notorious man as well as woman eater.

You also called.

"It's fantastic M, you should have come," you said, presumably unintentionally using that unfortunate double entendre.

"Oh I have many times," I smiled back hoping you weren't aware of the way the conversation was going.

"Yes but not on this holiday have you?" You asked rather implying that you were very aware. I decided to be neutral about it.

"What time do you think you'll be home?"

"About one thirty to two."

"That late?"

"Yes there's loads to see."

"Oh ok, you could always go again."

"No I like to just come somewhere once and get the whole job done."

Fuck he knows exactly what we are saying, or rather not saying I thought to myself as I felt a heat building up in my breasts.

I changed the subject.

"Would you like to have lunch in or shall we go out."

"Actually, I saw a really nice little trat right by the station, Troles, I think it was called, we could go there and walk home, save you driving when over the limit."

"How come you're so considerate all of a sudden?"

"Well I don't want to lose my driver do I?"

We chatted on for a bit and then agreed to meet in the restaurant at about two.

I was surprised to see that it was after twelve thirty so I wouldn't have time for any sunbathing. Instead I tidied up the bedrooms, finding myself looking closely at the sheets on your bed. You were generally pretty clean like that, but the occasional stain wasn't unusual. I actually felt a little disappointed when I found none and wondered what had happened after you left me last night. It occurred to me that if your self-induced climax was anywhere as strong as mine it was a wonder that I didn't hear you. It was I walked across the marble that my foot slipped on something and I realised that you hadn't been at all careful at where you let your load shoot.

I didn't need to shower or change so I was ready quite quickly and I set up on the fifteen minute or so walk down the hillside to Trules as it was called. The nearer I got. The more my heart was pounding. I would liked to have put that down to the exertion of walking, but I knew that I would be kidding myself, it was excitement.

I felt as if I was going on a date. A lunchtime assignation of the sort I'd had during my affair with Charles. But I wasn't meeting a lover was I? I was meeting my son.

I wasn't going on a date; I was having lunch with my child. It wasn't an assignation, purely a meal with my boy.

Yes my brain reminded me of all those things, but my body wasn't listening. That believed I was going on a date, that this was an assignation and that you might well be my lover.

As I held the door of the small restaurant open and saw you sitting at a table in the corner my mind played the most terrible trick on me. I saw symbolism everywhere. My arm became a cock, your cock. The door and frame became the folds of a pussy, my pussy. My mind was engulfed by the vision of you lying on top of me last night, between my legs your awesome erection pushed against my lips.

As I pushed the door open I had that wonderful sensation of a cock surging right up my cunt. I almost climaxed on the spot.

Pater

A day of walking round Pompeii alone did not clear my thoughts as I had intended. I had made my peace with the fact that you would not succumb to me. You could not bring yourself to cross the forbidden boundary, and I was ok with that. I made myself believe that it would not, it could not, happen.

But instead of clearing my mind and moving on, I was preoccupied with thoughts of your naked body. Your lips on mine, your tongue playfully toying with mine, your naked breasts pressed against my chest, your legs wrapped around my waist, and your soft, warm, wet pussy lovingly accepting my cock. Although the tip of my cock pressed right against your lips was a powerfully erotic memory it was the recall of us undressing in the pool that kept coming into my mind. Taking my mother's panties off was without doubt the most sexually exciting thing that had ever happened to me.

Pompeii may or may not exist. I don't remember any of it.

We spoke on the phone. I wanted to scream. We flirted. I wanted to explode. We arranged to meet. I wanted to cum. I had a date with you. The woman of my dreams; a woman so sexy she managed to occupy my every thought.

It was a strange feeling I had in the pit of my stomach approaching two o' clock. I had butterflies in my stomach, a feeling I hadn't experienced since I asked Nicola Spotswood to go out with me in year 9. She had dumped me two days later. I prayed you would never leave me. I would never leave you.