Mother Love

"Er ... yes," I said. "Much ... thanks."

"You're embarrassed," she said. "Don't be. I may be your mother but as I said before, I'm also an experienced woman. You needed that badly, didn't you? To help you release some of the tension and pressure in your body and in your head. I'm happy to oblige."

Something in her manner and her words sounded very clinical, and I suddenly wondered if I'd been wrong in thinking she'd been excited by my hands on her tits. Maybe she'd just done it to make me feel better; in the same way she cleaned my flat or made me my dinner. I started to feel like a foolish child who needed his mother to sort out his problems.

"Well, that's very kind of you Mother, to be so considerate." I said rather sarcastically.

She was silent for a moment, observing me. Then she said. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," I said, but in a manner that clearly indicated I was. "Oh dear. I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable. I thought ..."

"No you didn't!" I interrupted. "I knew what I was doing."

"What then?" she asked softly.

I stayed silent, not wanting to tell her that I was disappointed she'd done it just to help me, and not because she wanted me. It was stupid really, but I guess now she'd started this I really wanted more. And curiously it wasn't just the sex. I didn't just want to fuck, I wanted to fuck her.

"There are two possible reasons," she mused, almost to herself. "Either you're angry and embarrassed at having had sexual contact with your own mother, or ..."

She paused looking at me with that familiar odd expression.

"Or what?" I said.

"Or you'd hoped ..."

"Yes?"

"... I wasn't just doing it to help you feel better?"

I looked at her hard, and my anger found me the words to say. "I thought you were doing it because you wanted to ... not because you thought it would 'do me good'."

"I see," she almost whispered.

For a long time she was silent. At last I decided it would be better to forget the whole episode, and I got up to go. But as I started to walk past her she grabbed my hand.

"Wait," she said.

I looked down at her and I suddenly realised she now was embarrassed. She pulled my hand and I sat back down next to her.

"I ..." she began. "I thought perhaps you were only touching me because ... well, because I was the only female available to you. So I wanted to make it easy for you to pass it all off as a ... a mistake ... a happenstance or whatever. But ..."

"But what mother?" I said gently, realising this was hard for her.

"But having you touch me was so ... exciting. It was wrong, and yet it was so good, if you know what I mean. I shouldn't say this, but I only did what I did because I was afraid we'd go too far ... and then you'd hate me afterwards."

I smiled at her, a genuine warm smile that told her all she wanted to know.

"I love you mum, "I said. "I really do."

And she smiled back at me with that same strange look, only now it wasn't disguised, and I could see it for what it was. It was desire ... a combination of love and lust.

"Maybe we could have a nice meal tonight," she said gently. "And spend the evening together ... just you and me?"

"That would be great," I answered with a grin.

VII

After telling me she 'had to get a few things for supper and what-have-you', mother went out into the late afternoon sunshine. She was gone quite a long time and didn't get back till after six. In the meantime I'd set out the dinner table for what I hoped would be a cosy supper, and finished sorting out my flat.

I'd had some time to think while mother was gone, and I confess I was still feeling slightly ambiguous about the whole thing. While it was certainly true that the sheer illicitness of what we were doing had driven all thoughts and regrets about Katy out my mind, I still couldn't quite get my head around the notion of incest. I was proposing to sleep with my own mother. There was this division between my head and my loins. My head kept telling me how wrong and bad and dirty this was, and my loins kept saying 'bring it on man, bring it on!'.

In the end I decided if Mother was prepared to do this willingly, who I to stand in her way was.

As I've said many times in this tale of my mother, I had no real idea what would happen that evening. I suppose I expected her to remain my normal ordinary mum, at least until we'd had a few drinks, got cosy, and started to undress. I'm sure I never expected her to dress up for me. But that's exactly what she did.

She'd started the supper and asked me to finish while she got changed. I thought she'd simply felt grubby from her shopping trip, but when she re-emerged some half an hour later I was shocked and flabbergasted. That's not to say I wasn't pleased. Even after what had happened in the afternoon I hadn't really thought about mum as being sexy; not in any way. However, when she emerged from the bedroom all that changed forever.

She was wearing a thin very tight and off-the-shoulder black sweater that revealed an amazingly generous amount of cleavage. This was matched with short black skirt that zipped up the front and hung well above her knee. If you can imagine a slightly long mini-skirt in a thin black cloth that fits very tight, and accentuates the curve of the bottom, then you've about got it. Below this were sheer black tights and tall black shoes with almost stiletto-type heels. Her hair was let down and much longer than I'd realised, and I have to say she looked an incredibly sexy mature woman.

As she came into the kitchen her heels clicked on the tiled flooring and I whistled in admiration and said something like, "Wow, you look wonderful!"

She blew me a kiss and twirled around to show me the full picture. It was only then I noticed the presumed tights had dark seams running down the back and ending in a darker translucent triangle around the heels. With growing excitement I realised they weren't tights at all but fully-fashioned black seamed-stockings. I'd had a thing about stockings a few years before, but had rather given up on it as nobody wore them anymore, but the sight of mum dressed this way, combined with the prospect of what was to come later that evening gave me a hard-on that just wouldn't go away. I found my eyes had abandoned their attachment to her breasts and now seem fixated on mother's seams. It was a long time since I had my hands on a woman dressed in such stockings, and I simply couldn't wait to touch them or see her without her skirt.

Slowly I began to realise what mother had meant when she said she was an 'experienced woman', and I started to understand this evening was going to be a treat far beyond simple lust. My feelings toward mother were changing too. Here was a woman prepared to do anything for the person she loved, and nothing was too much trouble. When I thought of all the emotion I'd given to Katherine, with little genuine care in return, something began to turn inside my heart. I'd always thought of my mother as 'Mother', but now I began to see her as a woman - a very desirable woman.

In typical fashion Mother hadn't missed my new interest in her stocking-clad legs, and with a sly smile she lifted the edge of her skirt to reveal the beginnings of her black stocking-tops.

"You like?" she teased.

I just grinned and nodded.

"You know," she said. "It's a funny thing about men, but they all seem to like good quality stockings. Why is that I wonder?"

As she said this she lifted the skirt a little higher, giving me a tantalising view of both her legs. They were still long and slim, and I was amazed at how well she wore her stockings. They were straight and tight and perfectly linked to the suspenders. The whole vision was incredibly erotic.

"Who knows?" I whispered. "But whatever the reason I have to say you're a very sexy woman. You know what men like and you're not afraid to give it to them. My God those stockings really turn me on!"

"Well you'll have to be patient for a little while," she said dropping the skirt. "But later maybe, my naughty little boy can explore his mummy's lingerie to his heart's content ... if he wants?"

Her use of the word 'mummy' sent shivers through my loins. It was as if she knew the power of focussing on the incest part of what we were planning - as if she knew how illicit and thus how exciting it was. Maybe it excited her too. Maybe, just maybe, she'd fantasied in the past about having sex with her son. Whatever the reason, my admiration for mother was growing by the second.

"I want," I whispered.

We had a really nice meal and worked our way through two bottles of Chablis, and by the time we retired to the sofa both of us were feeling relaxed and content. All evening mother had been gently teasing me with suggestive remarks, mostly related to my previous fascination with, and accidental fondling of, her breasts. Things like, "don't worry about turning on the lights, you can find your way to what you want even when you're asleep!"

As we sat on the sofa I put my arm around her, and with one last sop to my conscience I said, "Are you sure about this Mum ... really sure?"

She placed her hand on my lap, resting it gently on my hard penis, and she said with a smile, "I think it's a bit too late to back out now, don't you think?"

"I don't want to do anything you'll ... or maybe we'll both regret later."

She leaned up to me and gently kissed my lips.

"I won't regret it," she murmured. "Not ever ..."

And then suddenly we were kissing passionately.

VII

I took things a bit more slowly this time, as this was something special and shouldn't be rushed. As we kissed my hand gently traced the outline of her breast, delicately feeling around the material of her sweater and up to sensuously caress the bare flesh of her cleavage. Lightly and softly my fingers sensed the shape and fullness of her bosom, keeping in mind all the while that this was my mother I was touching. I could already feel this was going to be the most erotic experience of my life.

Mother too was taking it slow and her hand on my penis just rested there, but I could tell she also was extracting every last sensation from the simple contact between her fingers and my hard cock. It was strange but just the feeling of her hand upon me, and knowing it was my mothers, was almost enough in itself. Every now and then her fingers would twitch as if re-establishing fading contact, and each time it send a jolt of sexual energy cascading through me.

After a while my hand slipped down from her breast, falling gently across the slight bulge of her tummy, and coming to rest on her thigh, and I could feel under the skirt the outline of her suspender clips, where the stockings were attached. Slowly my fingers ambled their way down to her hemline. I'm sure I paused deliberately for a moment before allowing my hand to fall onto the material of her stockings. It's such sensuous stuff nylon, and simply to touch and feel it is electric. My hand moved softly up under her skirt, marvelling at the feel of her stockings and the way they brushed and burred against my fingers. As my hand wandered upwards I could almost feel how the material thickened into the dense nylon of her stocking-tops, and I played around for a moment with the suspender-clips before permitting myself to fully experience the wonder of the transition from nylon to flesh.

After a long moment of pleasure my hand continued its travels upwards until it found a home between mother's thighs, and there it rested for a while before burrowing gently down between her legs and sensing the outline of her vulva through her satin panties. She sighed softly between kisses, as my fingers nestled and explored her femininity. I felt her legs open slightly, as if inviting me in.

I kissed her face and her eyes, and as my hand caressed that most intimate of feminine places, I felt her hand move up and begin to search for my zip. After a moment I heard the slight buzz of my zip being pulled down. Then a warm soft, mother's-hand, slipped inside my trousers and grasped me boldly but tenderly. This time it was me who sighed softly through my kisses, and she who nuzzled up close to my ear.

"What a big boy you are," she murmured to me. "Mummy's big strong boy."

My hand deserted her vulva and reached back up again to her breast. I squeezed it firmly.

"And what big breasts you have Mummy," I whispered to her. "Big soft firm breasts ... just like a good mummy should have."

I heard her chuckle softly, and for a moment her hand left my penis and reached up to undo the buttons of my trousers. Then slowly she reached inside my underpants and embraced my bare cock with her hand. Firmly she held me, and very gently she began to explore and caress my member.

I pulled my upper body away from her for a moment and lifted her sweater and carefully rolled it over her head. She was wearing a large rather old-fashioned bra that almost fully covered her breasts. It was somehow appropriate for a mother to wear such a brassiere, and it made her appear incredibly sexy, at least to me. I reached up with both hands and took hold of her breasts. The bra material was thick and it held her breasts tight and relatively high. For some time I simply fondled those wonderful trophies, whilst she watched me closely with a warm soft and sleepy look in her eyes.

"My God," I whispered. "These are so beautiful."

"There yours," she said softly. "Mummies boobies are yours for as long as you want them."

I smiled. "I want to do this forever ... if mummy will let me?"

"Oh yes, baby ... oh yes."

Eventually my hands slipped around her back and smoothly unfastened her bra. As the bra came away her breasts dropped down, but not so far as to make them flabby or any less appealing. My hands returned to their task of massaging and caressing mothers tits, and after a moment I lowered my lips towards a nipple and sucked it into my mouth. Mother's other hand moved around the back of my head, cradling me like a baby.

"Oh yes," she whispered again. "Suckle at mummies tities. My baby ... my good little baby."

I continued to suckle at her breasts for quite some time, and she continued to whisper soft words of encouragement to me. Eventually my kisses started to get lower until I was kissing and licking just above her skirt. Abruptly I stopped and indicated for her to stand up. She knew what I wanted and she rose from the sofa and stood sexily before me. Slowly she undid the zip at the front of her skirt and let it fall to the ground.

The sight of her standing there, her breasts bare and voluptuous, dressed only in a her white satin panties, white garter belt, and those incredible sheer black stockings, is one I'll always remember. I couldn't help staring. I was fascinated by her dark stocking-tops, supported as they were by the exquisite white garter straps, and the way they framed the vee of her panties. That area, between the top of the black nylons and the white of the panties, is one that has seduced many men over the years, and as I gazed at her I could feel the incredible sexual power of that vision.

"Wow!" I murmured. "You're so damn sexy. I can't believe I've lived with you all these years and never realised. Dad sure was one lucky man."

As I made to lean forward to touch her stockings she suddenly dropped to her knees and leant forward in my lap.

"My turn," she said simply, and before I knew what was happening she'd lowered her head down towards my cock.

I sat watching transfixed. Was my own mother about to take my cock in her mouth? Could such a thing really happen? With a small mischievous grin in my direction, she lowered her lips down to my open trousers and placed a soft kiss upon my penis. Very gently she continued to kiss it all over, but with kisses so light I hardly felt them. Then to my disappointment she sat back again and looked up at me.

She smiled shyly for a moment, and then she said. "Do you want your mummy to take your big cock in her mouth and suck it?"

I hardly dared to reply. After a few seconds I nodded, but she remained upright.

"Then you'll have to ask mummy nicely like good boy, won't you?" she whispered.

"Please mummy," I said breathlessly. "Take my cock in your mouth and suck it."

She looked up at me with a sudden stern look on her face.

"But that's very naughty ... isn't it. A good mother shouldn't suck her son's cock, should she?"

She was playing with me and I knew it.

"Please mummy," I said again. "Put your soft wet mouth around my big cock."

"Only if you promise not to cum in my mouth," she murmured

"I promise," I said, not sure now if she were being serious. I knew full well a lot of women don't like that.

"Good ..." she whispered. "Tonight I want you to fuck me and I want you to cum in my cunt! Tomorrow you can cum in my mouth ... if you like."

For a moment I was actually shocked. Not just by what she'd said but also by the language she used. I'd never heard my mother use such words before. That said, my cock jumped several inches as she said it.

"I see you do like," she said with a grin.

Slowly she lowered her head and slipped my penis into her mouth. I watched in total fascination and my mother's lips parted - the lips that had kissed me goodnight for so many years - and engulfed my cock. It didn't seem quite real, that this warm, damp, velvet purse worshipping my hard cock, was my own mother's mouth. It generated all sorts of amazingly erotic feelings in my loins and in my head.

I placed my hands on mother's head and gently began to force it down, encouraging her to take me deeper and deeper. Increasingly I had the urge to push up, to force my cock down her throat. Curiously this feeling was aggressive and almost primeval. Dimly I realised I wanted to dominate mother, to be brutal. As the feelings inside me began to boil and froth, one small part of my mind was analysing them. All at once I understood. All these years mother had been the 'adult' and I the 'child', and this inevitably had lead to power relations that reflected our relationship. Now I was the 'man', and part of the incredible eroticism of fucking my own mother was about reversing those powers, about making her obey me and do what I wanted.

Well that may come in time, I thought to myself, but for tonight I will be loving, for I own this Lady so much. Slowly I lifted her head from my cock and smiled warmly into her shining eyes.

"God, I love you Mum," I whispered, and this time I meant it.

She lifted herself up and into my arms, kissing me passionately. Then she lent on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

"Tomorrow you can do whatever you want to me. You can fuck my mouth or fuck my arse. You can tear off my clothes, strip me naked, and have me anyway you want. But for tonight be gentle ... and love me."

I was amazed. If what as if she'd been reading my mind. Maybe she understood - maybe that was it. Maybe she too wanted to reverse the old 'I'm your Mother, you're my son' power flow. Maybe she wanted me to dominate her, and maybe for her that was as much a part of the sexual power of incest as it was for me.

"I understand," I said softly. "I will love you tonight as gently and as sweetly as I can. I do love you mummy ..."

"Mummy knows," she whispered. "Mummy is here and mummy will take care of you."

I lifted her gently in my arms and took her through to the bedroom and lay her softly on the bed. I slipped off her shoes and very slowly pulled down and removed her panties. I asked if it was ok to leave her stockings on and she just smiled and murmured 'oh yes', and as I undressed in front of her she sensuously rubbed her legs together making her stockings 'swish', as if she knew just how sexy I found them.

I stood there naked in front of her, examining her body with my eyes. I still couldn't get over how good she looked. I mean she was old, or nearly old, yet although wrinkled in places her body was still beautiful - and it wasn't just because she was my mother. As my eyes probed her breasts and her thighs and what I could see of her vagina, I noticed she was examining me to. She was staring at my chest and at my cock, which was sticking up almost vertically in front of her. We both grinned at the same moment.