tagIncest/TabooKate's Mother

Kate's Mother

byQuietJohn©

CHAPTER 1

I lay naked on the bed, the cover still smooth and unwrinkled. The curtains were drawn and the morning sun streamed into the room making it light, warm and friendly. The pink tones of the room with the maroon and royal blue trimmings giving the space a friendly slightly feminine feel.

Physically I was completely sated. Drained.

I had just experienced the most mind blowing sex of my young life. I was sweaty, covered in melted butter and human love juices. I lay waiting for my love.

Allow me to fill you in on some of the history.

My parents started divorce proceedings when I was fourteen years old.

I found it very traumatic, the foundation of my life being torn from under me overnight. I knew my parents had issues but it never occurred to me that they would separate. Returning home from school one day my Mom and Dad were waiting for me. This was unusual as Dad was always at work during the day.

I looked at them both through an outsider's eyes.

John was tall, broad shouldered, slightly stooped as though apologising for his height and very slender. He was clean-shaven, kept his hair shot and habitually wore casual jeans and open necked shirts. Along with his casual appearance he was easy going, loved to joke and was always talking to strangers.

My mother, on the other hand, was of medium height, plump and large breasted. She always wore tailored trouser suits, usually in shades of grey and black. Diana, not ever to be confused with Dianne, never ventured out of her bedroom without makeup and her hair perfectly in place. She hated any impromptu event.

"Come and sit down. We need to talk to you," my father said. After a few minutes he looked at me and said, "I am separating from your mother. I want you to understand that it is not your fault. I will always be there if you need me." My mother snorted loudly whereupon my father rose, hugged me and left. I did not see him again for six years.

John did try to contact me. Regularly at first, and then less and less as time passed and I ignored his calls. I was so angry and hurt that he would, could leave me. Leave us. That he was able to remove all the fun and adventure from my life. My mother kept fuelling the anger.

"He just abandoned us."

"He pays for nothing."

"He hates you."

The divorce was long and bitter. At that time I knew none of the details, only that Mom was always in tears with red eyes and blotchy face. She never missed an opportunity to run John down with anyone that would listen, especially me. Our circle of friends grew steadily smaller until the only houseguests were bitter old women-friends who had gone through the same process.

During this period Mom looked after me. I could see she was trying to compensate for the family falling apart. Her whole life centred around me, being Moms Taxi, cooking my favourite food, spoiling me with gifts. She took no time out for herself.

My school grades suffered with my lack of interest and self pity. I grew introspective and avoided my old friends until one day, six months after the separation, my English teacher asked me to stay after class.

Mrs Hardakre was a veteran teacher equally hated and loved by her students, always respected. She was strict but fair and very outspoken. She had also been a houseguest while my parents were together.

"Sit down and stop fidgeting," she instructed without looking up. I had been hovering near her desk, bag in hand, and shifting my weight from foot to foot. I sat and waited, wondering what sin I had committed. Not that I cared. Life was in a vacuum and I was looking in as though from afar.

After a while she laid her pencil down and looked up, her eyes meeting mine in a hard stare. "Your grades have dropped. You do not complete your homework. You have stopped playing sport. Your personal hygiene has deteriorated. You have stopped mixing with your peers. Worst of all, you don't seem to care."Mrs Hardakre continued to meet my stare.

Never one to beat about the bush she continued, "I know you have been having a hard time since your parents separated and that your mother rams your father's desertion down your throat at every opportunity. You are not the first sibling to be affected by a separation and divorce. There are hundreds in this school alone, and they all get on with their lives. I don't say that it is easy, or ideal, but life does go on." She paused and looked out of the window. "You are fifteen years old. This is the time for fun, for mischief. For physical and mental adventures. For learning about girls." She looked back and caught my startled expression and I blushed.

"Just because I am getting old doesn't mean that I don't understand these things. I have taught thousands of young men in my time and I know what life for them is about. About puberty and raging hormones."

After a pause she continued, "As you know I was friends with your parents before their separation. Especially your father. I have been in regular contact with him since then, keeping him updated with your progress. Your mother as well, but all she ever wants to tell me was what a bad man your father is, not how good you are. The difference is that John approaches me for news, Diana not. He is worried about you."

I could feel tears start and I blinked rapidly to try to keep them at bay.

"Your father says that he has tried and tried to contact you but you have not returned any of his calls. That is your prerogative." Mrs Hardakre looked into the distance as though debating with herself. After a few moments she looked at me and continued, "I am not taking sides in this affair. I want you to know that your father cares and that, should you ever need, he is there."

"It is entirely normal for the sibling to think that the separation is his or her fault and feel insufferably guilty." Mrs Hardakre reach across and handed me a wad of tissues to wipe my streaming eyes. Our hands touch and I clung for a moment before wiping my cheeks. Her eyes were soft and there was a hint of tears.

"I can assure you that you were in no way guilty of precipitating their break up. That was many years in the making. They are two good people in a bad union, like oil and water. You also need not fear abandonment. John is there."

Mrs Hardakre waited while I noisily blew my nose.

After a pause she continued, "you know, he could legally compel you to see him. In fact his lawyers have urged him to pursue that route. But he has decided not to. He believes in the truism that you can take a horse to water but you cannot make it drink, meaning that he wants you to come to him when you are ready. When you want to."

Mrs Hardakre turned her famous twelve volt stare onto me until my gaze dropped under the onslaught. "You will now pull yourself together. I will go through your homework every day," the will being accented strongly. "You will wash your hair and scrub your nails every day. You will rejoin the debating society and you will play at least one school sport. I expect you to start taking an interest in your peers. There is a prom in two weeks, I expect to see you there. And I don't care whether you come alone. Do I make myself understood?"

After a long pause, "well?"

I mumbled something under my breath.

"Speak up, I can't hear you!"

"Yes," I breathed.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, louder.

"I will not let you go unless you tell me what you agree to, even if we have to sit here all afternoon."

After a long discussion, well hardly a discussion in that Mrs Hardakre did most of the talking, I agreed to all her demands and on a plan forward and on a timeline.

"I am here and available for you to talk to any time you feel the need. Any time you get in trouble I am here to help. If you feel the need to speak to your father I can broker a meeting or give him a message. I will in any case keep him informed of your progress."

"And, just in case you are wondering, any and all things personal will stop with me. You have my word." I was certain at that moment that even the harshest torture would not have extracted any confidences from her.

That was the start of my new life, my rebirth. A few drops at first, then a trickle and then a full flood!

Mrs Hardakre became a confidant, a taskmaster and, most important, a friend. All she had said about life at my age was true. This was the time for fun, for mischief. For physical and mental adventures. For learning about girls. Girls! Puberty was in full swing with raging hormones and mood swings and a breaking voice and pimples.

At home the divorce was eventually decreed. Mom got a morning job at the local veterinarian and continued as a dress maker in the afternoons. Well, more than a dress maker. She was a talented dress designer having studied fashion design at college. Her continuous sniping at John fell on deaf ears and she continued to spoil me. Sometimes it was just too much!

She was always hugging and kissing me and holding my hand. At home that was fine but in public, especially at school, it was embarrassing! Nothing I said would change it. Even more embarrassing was when she hugged me and I had a hard-on, which was most of the time, I am sure she must have felt my cock pressing into her stomach. But she never made reference to it in any way and she did not let up on the hugs.

I was always painfully aware of her large soft breasts being squashed against my chest. This did not help in the hard-on situation!

I had discovered masturbation when I was twelve. Well, it did not start as masturbation and I did not begin by playing with my cock with my hand. One day I was climbing a pole and the repeated squeezing of my thighs for grip caused an erection and then the most incredibly intense feeling through my body, especially my genitals. The first time it happened I fell to the ground because the feeling was so unexpected and intense. My first orgasm! I became the pole climbing champion of the area.

Then there were the doctor-doctor games with the girls that lived next door. The furtive fumblings behind the bushes. The wonderful feeling as they performed "operations" on me and the excitement as I returned the favour.

I soon discovered that I could duplicate the feelings I got while climbing a pole by pumping my cock with my hand and it became a nightly ritual.

And then my first ejaculation! I was sliding my hand up and down my erect cock, using the foreskin to stimulate the sensitive rim of the glans. I was thinking about the neighbour girls and the close inspection I had made of their most private parts. I had no name to put to these wonderful organs yet. I stopped for a few moments to prolong the pleasure. When the urge had subsided a bit I continued to pump slowly. It felt so wonderful! And then the orgasm overtook me and I pumped furiously. I started squirting all over the place, on my chest, the bedding, some even landed on my face. The sensations were so intense I think I passed out for a moment.

When I again became aware of my surroundings I suddenly was scared. Had I urinated? It did not smell like it nor feel like it. In the dark the fluid was thick, slippery and had a unique sharp smell. What had happened? I cleaned up as best I could then lay in bed worrying. Who do I ask? The problem went round and round in my head until eventually I fell asleep.

I did not touch myself for a week for fear that there was something wrong with me. I eventually plucked the courage to climb my favourite pole. I again experienced the most glorious feeling and the pulsating sprays inside my underpants making the feeling more intense! I ran home as the wet patch became visible and the overflow ran down my legs.

And then one of those coincidences that change your life! The next day I was standing around with my school buddies punching the breeze. Remember that I was then thirteen and it was before my parents separated and all the children at the school were my friends.

The talk was, as per usual, about sport and girls, mostly girls. There were guffaws at the crude jokes and the references to the physical attributes of the various girls in our class. I had been witness to these types of discussions forever but the human psyche is amazing, it only absorbs and questions the things it is ready for. One of the older boys was saying, "...cumming in gallons! They don't make rubbers big enough for guys like me."

Click! It all fell into place. I almost fainted with relief.

My nightly masturbation sessions resumed, although now I was always prepared with a wad of tissues. Sometimes it extended to twice or even three times in a night, depending on the days happenings. And the smut I was able to beg, borrow or steal.

My eighteenth birthday came and went. I graduated from high school. I got my first steady girlfriend. I stopped growing. I saw my mother naked for the first time.

I was on my way home from one of my friends at about ten o' clock one night. As usual I took a short cut through our back garden. As I passed my Mom's bedroom window I saw her light was still on and that the curtains were slightly open. Intrigued, I bent down to peer through the gap not really expecting to see anything interesting.

There, in full view, was Mom unbuttoning her blouse. I could see her habitual black slacks folded neatly on the bed. She removed her top and there she stood in bra and panties, both black. Now, I have seen Mom in her underwear before as we have always been fairly open and uninhibited. Good manners, though, had always prevented me from staring. Here she was only a few feet away, in bright light, facing me. Her breasts were very large and heavy, forty four double D. I knew because I had checked out the label during my investigations into her closet. Her breasts were now completely hidden by the conservative garment. There were deep grooves in her shoulders from the straps.

Her panties were full old fashioned style brooks that were gathered in at the waist and ended with elasticised leg holes, all shiny black. I could see her pubic mound and a few stray black hairs sticking out one of the legs. The texture of her pubic hair could be seen through the silky material.

The rest of her body was white, plump and lumpy, the skin having a fine texture.

Mom turned and walked away from me to drop the blouse in the hamper before returning to her spot near the bed.

I saw her reach behind her back and unclasp her bra, letting it fall forward and down her arms exposing her large drooping breasts to my full view. I was instantly hard. Without the support of the bra they sagged against her chest, the large brown nipples pointing down towards the ground. I could make out faint blue lines under the skin. The nubs were as big as the ends of my baby fingers and square ended. I was fascinated! I had never seen real live mature breasts close up before.

Mom massaged her shoulders where the straps had pulled, then the red marks around her chest where the bra had sat, lifting each large breast and rubbing under each in turn. I was fascinated at how they moved and wobbled. They looked so soft and inviting.

I was by now so hard it was painful and I eased my cock into a more comfortable position in my trousers, furtively looking round to see if anybody could see me spying through the window. All seemed safe.

When I looked back I saw that Mom had cupped a breast in each hand and was moving her hands in small circles, the palms rolling her large nipples as they went. After a few minutes of this she removed her hands and I was surprised to see how her large areolas had contracted and rumpled into a small oval dimpled areas and that her nipples were angry looking and swollen and sticking straight out.

Mom turned and walked to her door which she closed and locked. I have never known her to lock a door before. Then I saw her enter her bathroom and was certain that that was the end of my show. I was about to walk off when she reappeared carrying a towel which she spread over the end of the bed. The end of the bed that faced the window where I stood. She then rummaged in her bedside drawer eventually coming out with a blue tube, a bit like a toothpaste tube, which she also put on the bed. I was rooted to the spot.

Standing at the end of the bed again with her back to me Mom hooked her thumbs into the waistline of her full panties and, bending at the waist, pulled them down her legs giving me a full close-up view of her spread arse cheeks, her pink-brown rosebud exposed and of her hairy cunt, pink and obviously wet. She then turned and lay down on the towel, her legs spread widely and her feet hanging on the floor. I took in her prominent pubic mound with its thick bush of wild black hair and her large breasts with their erect nipples sagging down on each side of her chest.

I could clearly see the swollen lips of her cunt with the prominent clitoris above. I undid the top button of my jeans and let them fall to my knees, followed by my underpants. I almost came as I touched myself, quivering with excitement. I was streaming precum, my underpants sodden.

As I watched, Mom took the cap off the tube, squeezed a generous amount of clear goo onto her fingers, then spreading her thick cunt lips with her left hand , she gently spread the goo onto her exposed clitoris. I could see her body shiver is she touched herself and I could hear her moan through the closed window.

Mom was in no hurry. She mover her index finger over her clit, almost tickling it. Then she paused and moved the finger down to dip into the pink opening of her vagina. Slowly up and down, all the time holding herself open and exposed with her left hand. Then slowly rubbing between her inner and outer lips so clearly seen from my position. Then pausing a while. Back to a slow circle over her clitoris, her left hand pulling the hood back exposing the full swollen red head. Two fingers then gently rubbing. Back to her vagina to collect some of the creamy juice exuding from the opening and spreading it on her clit.

Then a pause. I could see the woman-nectar flow slowly from her cunt opening down between her cheeks, shiny and creamy.

Mom lifted one foot onto the bed, the knee lying sideways exposing herself more to me, stretching the cunt opening wide so I could see inside, deep red. Her fingers slipped down between her cheeks, below her vagina to the pink-brown rosebud. They circled there, spreading the natural lubricant, then back for more, delving into her spread cunt then back to her arsehole. I saw a finger penetrate to the first knuckle and I saw her shudder, her cunt convulsing rhythmically a few times and more cream flowing down into her crack.

Still for a time. Then back to circling her clitoris, this time harder and faster.

I had by this time stopped touching myself for fear of shooting my bolt. Any slight bit of stimulation would have caused me to explode violently. I was hanging on by a thread, precum dripping from the tip.

As I watched, completely entranced, Mom moved her foot off the bed again, at the same time slipping first two, then three, fingers into her cunt. Her movements became more urgent, the fingers of her left hand fucking herself while the pads of the fingers of her right hand flew in circles over her clitoris, her buttocks rising off the bed in their effort to get more. I could see her legs tensing together, her heavy breasts heaved and shook with the effort, her mouth gaping, her face and neck red.

I grabbed my turgid cock and started pumping as I heard my mother moan. Lights burst in my head and I felt like I was floating as the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced washed over me. I kept cumming and cumming, spraying hot spunk over the wall and the grass and my hand. I staggered backwards until I fetched up against a tree where I stood shivering, my still rigid cock in my hand, my lungs working like bellows.

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