Oedipus Spanks

It wasn't long before she let her arm dangle out of the bed to hover over me, fidgeting, waiting for me to take it. I did. I held onto her hand.

"I love you Babesh."

"I love you Mom."

Night.

"Oww! What the ..." I was shaken out of slumber by a blunt pain to my side, then another to my stomach. Wondering where I was and what was going on, I was suddenly the recipient of one of the most agonising experiences of my life. I cried out in pain as my Mom stepped on my balls with her bare feet, then stumbled, landing on top of me in a heap.

"Mom? What are you doing?" I cried, buckling over, clenching my little guy between my legs.

Mom's face was about an inch from mine. It was dark, but I could still make her out. Suddenly I felt something wet on my face, missing my open mouth by a fraction, it trickled down my cheek.

Mom immediately lifted her hand to wipe her face and I realised, she had just inadvertently drooled on me.

"I'm sorry Babes. I forgot you were there."

I helped her to her feet and into the bathroom, where the light blinded us both. Before I could turn to leave her in privacy, she lifted her nightgown and sat straight down on the toilet and started to go. I saw the briefest, most fleeting glance of my Mom's pussy and turned my head immediately and left her alone.

Mom came out of the bathroom and took more care, stepping over me. As I watched her kneel on the bed, I caught a glimpse of her ass and Lord help me, but for some mysterious reason, completely unknown to me, my dick twitched.

"Night Babes."

"Night Mom."

I leaned over onto my side, facing away from my mother and tried to get back to sleep. Now, when I've been disturbed in the middle of the night in the past, I usually can't just fall back asleep, I have to think of something.

What I think of varies, but it probably has something to do with that song from the Sound of Music. I try to think of my favourite things, but nothing too stimulating. I normally just try to picture some ideal future for myself, a house, wife, kids, that sort of thing. But no matter what I tried to think of, all I could see in my mind's eye was the flash of brown fur between my Mom's legs and her big, juicy, succulent, perfect ass.

What was wrong with me? This was my mother. This was the woman who gave birth to me, who let me suckle on her breasts, who bathed me and dressed me and took me to school, who was always there for me, kind and caring and loving, always with a sweet hug and a kiss. And I had a boner for her?

Suffice it to say, it was a long time before I finally drifted off to sleep.

Next morning, I woke on the floor, on my back. It took me a moment or two to realise where I was, before becoming aware, like I did most mornings, that I had an erection. It wasn't sexual. It was just a need to pee. The chemicals that were released during the night by my brain to quell that desire had subsided and a new chemical sent word to my penis to wake me up to go start my day.

The next thing I became aware of was my mother, lying face down, sideways across her bed, with her arms crossed under her and her chin rested on them, looking at me. And the tent in my blanket. I twitched again and I'm sure a faint crease appeared at the corner of her mouth. Rolling onto my side, I said good morning to my mother.

"Good morning Babes. Sleep well?"

"Um, let me think about that, um ..." I smiled, so too did she.

"You're sleeping on the bed tonight."

"Mom, it's fine."

"It's not fine. You're sleeping with me. And if you refuse, I'm going to sleep on the floor as well."

"Mom, that's ridiculous."

"No. What's ridiculous is paying £150 a night and my son sleeping on the floor. That's ridiculous."

"Mom, I can't sleep with you."

"Why not? I don't bite ..." A look of mischief came to her face. "Unless you want me to!"

I laughed. "Mom. It's just not right. I'm not a little kid anymore and I'm not Dad."

"What does Dad have to do with it?"

"Well you're his wife, he's your husband, you're married, it will be like cheating."

She scoffed at me. "Why would it be like cheating? You're my son and I love you more than anything in the world. You're my darling baby boy, not some stranger picked up in a bar. You're sleeping in the bed tonight, or I'm sleeping on the floor. That's the choice. Are you gong to make your poor, old mother sleep on a hard floor?"

"Mom, you're not old." Again, I was instantaneous. But I saw the look of seriousness in her eyes. Once she got that look, I knew she meant it and would be good to her word.

"Oh alright, I'll sleep in the bloody bed if it'll make you happy."

She scooted out of the bed and knelt down alongside me, lifting my blanket and snuggled up beside me, pulling the blanket back over us both. She placed her head on my pillow and rested her palm on my chest.

"Oh God, how did you ever sleep a wink on this hard floor?"

Being drunk helped, I thought. After her mid-night foray into the bathroom, it wasn't so easy after that.

She started to rub her hand across my chest. It was just a little bit hairy. I had a little in the centre of my chest and a little upside down V on my stomach around my belly button, but most of my hair seemed to be around my nipples. And it was those that her fingers began to circle, every so often tugging a little on those hairs.

Far from finding it uncomfortable, I found it mildly soothing. What she did next however, I found to be incredibly awkward. In an attempt to get more comfortable, probably not even thinking about it, or at very least, having forgotten about it, Mom readjusted herself, bringing her right leg up onto my left thigh. Her right knee was sitting directly on top of my boner, flattening it.

As every man that has ever been will know, a flattened boner is an anxious boner. My little guy pressed into the side of my mothers knee, throbbing, pulsing, trapped.

As her head lay next to mine, I looked at her, we were breathing in each other's breath. My heart raced and her eyes fixed on mine. She was painfully aware of what she had done and was not quite sure how to extricate herself from this most unfortunate of positions that a mother and son could find themselves in. Again my erection pulsed.

Without further ado, my mother spoke, "Who's first in the bathroom, you or me?" As she was speaking, she moved her leg back to the sidelines. She tapped my chest, waiting for an answer.

"I need to pee Mom, but then you can go before I do anything else."

Why I said that, I don't know. Yes, I needed to pee, but could I get up without showing my doozie of a boner to my mother? Whatever. I got up and went and did what I needed to do.

As I washed my hands in the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror. Actually looked at myself, almost accusingly. This woman was the most precious person in the world to me and I had spent half the night having illicit thoughts about various parts of her anatomy.

I pulled my pyjama's down and let them fall around my ankles. The mirror in the hotel en suite was full length, no window, just a light. I looked at it. My penis.

Morning erections normally tended to diminish as soon as urination began. By the conclusion of urination, it was usually half mast, or semi-hard/semi-flaccid. This thing was throbbing. It was out of my foreskin and everything. That practically never happened with an a.m. boner. Yeah, I'd be hard, but not so hard that my mushroom cap would come out to play. That only happened when my mind got sexed up. As it was right now. For Mom.

Mom knocked on the door. "Can I come in Babes. Mommy's really got to pee."

I could hear her hand squeezing the door handle, so quickly reached down to pull my PJs up. I opened the door for Mom and she scooched past me and sat down on the toilet. This time I made sure not to look, instead taking me and my boner out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I slumped back against the wall and my hand naturally found its way inside my slack fitting pyjama bottoms. I grabbed hold of my foreskin and forcibly pulled it back over my glans to cover it and afford it some protection from the harsh elements. I could however feel the telltale slickness of pre-cum all over my fingers and shaft.

I reprimanded myself for having the thoughts I was having. My own mother. My penis, hard as a rock, sliding between those delicious half moons I'd seen last night as she got back into bed. STOP IT.

Slipping between her legs to reach her fur, wrapping my arm around her body to touch the tip of my penis against her pubes, using my other arm to float up inside her nightie to cup her breast, give it a squeeze, tease a nipple. Kiss her neck from behind. Oh God, what was happening to me? I'd never been so horny in my life.

My fingers were in my mouth and I was licking my pre-cum off them. God, I was a pervert. A moment later my hand was back in my PJs and I was squeezing out another handful of my juices, again bringing them to my mouth to taste and swallow, somehow imagining they were my mother's own juices.

Oh, I've got to stop this. I have so got to stop this. I had to have a wank. I just had to have a wank. There was no way I was going to get through today with Mom without jerking off thinking about her.

No, I can't do that. I just can't. I can't I tell you. Stop it. Leave me alone. Why won't you just leave me alone?

If I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, the angel had his pants down and had his cock in his hand. The devil was already fucking my mother, twelve ways from Sunday.

Breakfast was an uneasy affair. We sat across the table from each other in the same seats we had occupied at dinner the previous night. I was fairly quiet, looking around the dining room, always averting my gaze when I felt Mom looking at me. Before long, Mom spoke up.

"It's perfectly natural you know."

"What is?" I asked, not for one moment thinking Mom would bring it up as a topic of conversation.

"To have an erection in the morning. Your Dad has them all the time."

"Mom!"

"Shh!" she hushed me. I'd been a bit too vigorous with my objection again. Heads were turning.

"Mom, you can't talk about shit like that."

"Why not?"

"Because ..."

"Because what?"

"Because it's sensitive."

"Oh please. You make it sound like half the world doesn't wake up in the exact same condition as you woke up. You had a boner. So what!"

"Mom!" I stifled my outrage.

"I didn't raise my son to be such a prude."

I had to smile at that. When I did, she smiled right back at me, her eyes positively glowing, perhaps realising the abject sauciness of her words at long last.

"Mom!" I said barely above a whisper.

She stood up and leaned across the table to kiss me on my cheek. As she took to her seat, her arm stretched out and her fingers wiped away the lipstick mark she had left on the side of my face.

"Come on. Let's just forget about it, eh? It's nothing. Penises have minds of their own. They stand up when they see a nice lady and they stand up when they need a pee. It's harder for ... I mean, it's more difficult for men, having such an expressive body part. When women are turned on they're a lot more subtle. It doesn't show so much unless you know where to look."

"Mom, I wasn't turned on." I lied.

"I know, I'm just saying, it's the dual nature of ... well, you know."

"Can we change the subject Mom? I had a boner, yes, I have one every morning. It just means I need to pee. It doesn't go away 'til I've had one."

"Consider the subject changed. Right, I think it's going to be a nice day, shall we go to St. Ives?"

I smiled and nodded, unable to disguise my delight.

"As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives, every wife had seven sacks, every sack had seven cats, every cat had seven kits. Cats, kits, sacks, wives, how many were going to St. Ives?"

"Two!" I replied. "Just you and me Mom!"

St. Ives hadn't changed a bit. It was exactly as I remembered it, frozen in time.

Parking the car at the top of the hill overlooking Porthmeor Beach, we wandered down into the town. For some reason, I don't know what, I don't know why, Mom took a hold of my hand and we strolled about like that all morning, releasing only momentarily to pick things up or put things down, or hand over money or scratch our noses, but always returning to hold each other's hand. It was nice and gentle in a caring sort of way and I didn't feel in the least bit self conscious about holding my mother's hand in public.

Mom bought me a new watch in one of the side streets, just because I liked it and she caught me looking at it. It came as a complete surprise, but such a nice one nonetheless. We sat down in a pub for some lunch, nothing heavy because we'd be eating late.

It was a lovely day, the sun was shining bright, it was warm, it was just beautiful, perfect in every way. Mom and me had only light summery clothes on, I was in shorts and a T shirt, Mom a skirt and a thin cotton T shirt. We really didn't need anything more.

It was mid afternoon before Mom started to drive us back, but we needed to stop off for a few supplies along the way. There was a supermarket and a few chain stores, but Mom wanted to pick up some snacks and some drinks, so we wouldn't have to spend so much in the hotel bar. We could take the alcohol up to our room instead and save a bundle.

As we walked into the supermarket, I said to Mom, "I think I need a shit. Where's the toilet?" I had to be crude, to disguise my true intentions.

Mom pointed out the toilets and I said, "I'll catch you up. I'll come find you when I'm done."

I found a stall, wiped the seat with some toilet paper, yanked down my shorts and pants and took my dick in my hand, shut my eyes and began wanking.

Toilet paper. I'll need some toilet paper, so I ripped off a few sheets. It was horrible stuff, cheap, thin, longer than normal toilet paper, but incredibly poor quality. I dropped it onto my shorts around my ankles and shut my eyes again.

I tried to think of other people. Actresses, sexy situations. But Mom kept coming into my thoughts. That flash of bush. I was in the hotel bathroom with her. That green nightie of hers hiked up around her waist, her ass cheeks supporting her, knees apart. I could see between her legs, all that fur.

Ohhhh, my breathing got heavier and I had to reel myself in and remember where I was.

That white lacy bit that sat atop the plunging neckline, the thin pale green satin clinging to her breasts, my face getting closer to her hardening nipples. Looking up at her face, deep into her eyes. Those lips, kissing those lips, Mom's lips, Mom, oh Mom, Mom, Mommy. I reached for the TP and blew my load. That had to have been some sort of record. That was less than a minute. I'd never come that fast in my life before.

I squeezed every drop out of my penis, before wiping myself off, holding the spent wad to my face, I sniffed it, thought of Mom, kissed it, thanked her quietly and then flushed it in the bowl behind me. I washed my hands and went and found Mom.

"You weren't long Babes. I thought you'd be in there quarter of an hour."

"Turned out I just needed a good fart Mom. I think I frightened the guy in the next cubicle. I couldn't help laughing at how loud it was."

She feigned disapproval at me, but secretly I knew she loved hearing me say stuff like that, even though this time, none of it had been true.

We finished the shop and Mom handed me the keys of the car to go load the shopping up. She wanted to nip into next door for something or another.

The sky had turned dark and the wind had picked up. There was now a chill in the air and rain seemed imminent.

I sat in the VW waiting, waiting. Then I saw Mom coming my way as the heavens suddenly opened and released torrents down upon my mother. She ran to the car and I reached across to open the door for her, but by the time she sat down, she was soaked through and shivering.

"Mom, you've got to take that off, you'll get pneumonia otherwise." That was something she always said to me when I came in soaked through.

"I can't take it off, I've got nothing else to wear."

"Yes you do Mom." I immediately pulled my T shirt over my head and pulled my shorts down and handed them to her.

"What are you doing? Put them back on."

"Mom, you're soaked through. I'm dry. You're gonna catch your death if you sit like that. Come on. Take your top off." I helped her with it. She sat there in her pale pink bra and I could see her dark nipples underneath poking through. They were like bullets. She swiftly put my T shirt on over her head and noticed how it covered her below the waist as well since it was much bigger than hers had been.

"Put your shorts back on. This is fine."

"Mom you can have them. You need to take your dress off, it's soaking."

"It's not a dress Babes. It's a skirt. There's a difference you know."

I didn't know. I thought the terms were interchangeable. Whatever, she undid her skirt and took it off, flinging her wet clothes into the back seat, sitting there all wet and windswept in just my T shirt and her underwear and shoes.

"You can put them on," she said. "I don't need them.

"Mom, they're the only dry thing in the car. At least dry yourself off with them."

"And what are you going to do when we get back to the hotel? Just walk through the lobby in just your underpants?"

"No, you can go up to the room and get me some clothes, bring them back down to me, it won't take more than a minute or two."

She couldn't argue with my logic. She was soaking and shivering, even though the engine was switched on and the fan was attempting to blow out warm air, with a cold engine, that air wasn't so warm.

Mom physically shook from the cold as we sat there arguing, so I took my shorts and started to wipe her arms, then her hair. She took over from me and dried herself up, then as the fan started to warm up, she leaned over and kissed me on my cheek.

"Look at us eh? What would your Dad say if he could see us now?"

I looked at her, but looked at her differently now. Just half an hour earlier I had jacked off thinking about her. And since then, I'd got a real good outline of her nipples and she'd kissed me.

I got that telltale sensation in my pants and clenched tightly, digging my backside deep into the passenger seat. I couldn't let Mom see my erection now. She'd know it was for her this time, if I did.

David Cameron. Gordon Brown. Tony Blair. John Major. Margaret Thatcher. Who was before her? I couldn't go back any further than my own lifetime, so I switched to American presidents. Barack Obama. George W Bush. Bill Clinton. Other George Bush. Ronald Reagan.

That seemed to do the trick. Politicians always got rid of my hard ons. They were sure fire damp squibs.

---

Chapter 02

I walked through the lobby of the hotel in my son's T shirt and my own damp underwear. I had seen his erection in the car and thought about it all the way back to Penzance.

I couldn't very well rebuke him, he had done such a kind thing for me. We brought him up well, that's one thing I will say for myself and my husband. We are good parents.

Although sometimes I wonder. If he only knew of my hidden urges and desires. If he knew his dear Mom lived a secret fantasy life in her head because she's so sexually frustrated it aches.

Even now, walking through the lobby, feeling people's eyes on me, I want to be exposed. How I wish my son had kept his clothes on and insisted I get out of mine. Out of my top, out of my skirt.But Mom, your panties are soaked through and your bra is all wet, I can see your nipples. You have to get out of those wet clothes and I'm not taking no for an answer. Strip. Do it now. Strip.

And then leading me, naked, through to the elevators. My pussy was wet just thinking about it. I'd been tingling all day. As I lay on the bed this morning gazing at my son's cock bob up and down as he slept peacefully, as I placed my knee upon it and felt it heave, our breakfast conversation, I've been squirming down there ever since. I need to masturbate, but how can I do it with my son around all the time?