Oedipus Spanks

Mom reached across with her fork and had the first bite. "Mmm. Scrumptious. You'll lurrrve that!"

I tried it. She was right. It was delicious.

All through dinner my thoughts were of one thing. Forbidden love. As she sat there, looking and smelling so fresh, I admired her contours. Her boobs were the perfect size and shape, Goldilocks boobs, not too big, not too small. The low neckline of her pale blue summer dress teased her cleavage – just that little vertical bunching together, before the material hid everything else from sight. I couldn't help thinking of the physical similarities between a woman's cleavage and a builder's bum, one so perfect, one so awful and yet, cropped and taken out of context, hard to tell apart.

"What are you going to have for dessert Babes?" she asked, reaching under the table with her foot to rub my leg.

You Mom.

Oh! Shit! Did I say that? I didn't know. Did I speak that or merely think it? I thought it so loudly, I could almost swear I'd given voice to my thoughts.

"Um. I dunno. What are you having?"

"Hmm? Either the profiteroles or the ice cream sundae. I can't decide. You know I'm a sucker for whipped cream, but I'm so hot right now, I think I need an ice cream."

"We'll order both Mom. We can share. That way you can have both."

"I thought you'd want the peach crumble."

"Hmm? Not tonight Mom. I'm feeling hot too."

Half hour later we had decided to pay our after dinner visit to the bar, but we were just going to order the one round. As Mom had started on the wine and had more waiting for her upstairs, she stuck with it, so I ordered her a Burgundy Pinot Noir – something a little finer than she had in the room. I didn't get any change from a tenner this time, having to put down another twenty pence for just that and my pint. But my mother was worth it. And after what I had done to her in my mind today, it was a bargain.

We were both a little tipsy stepping into the brightly lit elevator. As the lift began its lethargic ascent to the third floor, Mom looked closely at herself in the mirror, bringing her fingers up to smooth out her crow's feet.

"I'm sho old," she slurred.

"You're not old Mom."

"I am. And I'm ugly."

I wasn't having my mother say such horrible, untrue and undeserved things about herself. If I ever heard anyone else call my mother old or ugly, I'd punch their lights out.

"You're beautiful Mom. You are so very beautiful."

She smiled in the mirror at me as I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her from behind. "You really shink sho?"

"I know sho ... uh, so!"

I went to peck her cheek and just as I did she turned her face to me and I ended up planting one on the corner of her mouth. She started to snigger helplessly.

"What?" I asked.

The elevator reached our floor and I stood aside for Mom to exit first. As she started to move forward, with a little spring in her step and a girlish swing to her bottom, she held out her hand for mine and led me out.

"You sweet baby boy. Mommy loves you."

As Mom had her left hand in my right, I walked around to her right tugging her hand behind her back and slipped my left arm up over her shoulder. I tilted my head down to hers and she reciprocated as we walked to our room.

All I could think was how lucky Dad was, having this beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, kind, sweet, endearing, magnificent woman as his wife. I was envious of him. He never seemed to show her much affection and Mom always responded so well to it. She always did. I couldn't help but wonder if she craved more of it. Well, whether she did or whether she didn't, she was going to get more of it from me, from now on. Or at least until she told me to stop.

Mom's TV show was on. I didn't much care for it. I just put her to lie on the bed while I went to the bathroom. "Need a shit Mom."

"Another one?" she asked.

"I couldn't go in the supermarket. It was just a fart remember?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded. "Okay. Have fun."

I didn't need a shit, I needed a wank. My mother was intoxicating. Her simple presence had increased my libido threefold and I just had to beat another one out before bedtime.

I locked the door and sat on the can, pulling down my trousers. I looked across the floor and saw her bra and panties. I couldn't resist. I collected her panties and gave them an almighty sniff.

Shit! I nearly choked. The odour was so powerful, so dense, so – primal. That was not a normal smell. If that was normal, she'd have men falling at her feet wherever she went. That was intense. That was beyond words. That was – that was the scent of my Mom's sex.

I beat off furiously on the toilet seat, my balls slapping between my legs. I continuously sniffed her panties and pictured my Mom's face at dinner. I didn't even need to imagine her naked, it really did not get that far. I didn't need to picture my Mom's body, I just needed to picture my Mom.

I lasted a little bit longer than my two record breakers earlier in the day. I'd come in less than a minute first time and lasted about three when Mom was in the bath. It took about five to ejaculate my load, which, for a third round of self abuse, was simply unheard of.

I couldn't help myself. My dirty little mind got the better of me. Even though I had dropped my wad in the toilet beneath me, I was still milking white stuff from my bell end. I dabbed it with my finger and pressed it to the crotch of Mom's panties, rubbing it in. That gave me such a thrill, but nothing like the thrill it gave me to actually place her panties on top of my penis to physically contact her moist patch.

I sat back on the toilet, shattered from chronic masturbation. At the side of the bath I saw Mom's tablet on the floor. I reached for it and swiped it on. She had a few games that I'd put on there for her, I could play one of those while I pretended to be emptying my bowels.

Oh, bollocks! I pressed the wrong bloody thing by accident and now her internet browser was starting up. Come on, you stupid thing, back, back. There was a bit of lag on it. It returned to the screen I wanted but not before I became aware of the word cunt on the previous screen. Funny how things like that catch your eye.

I pressed for the browser to load again. I did see cunt. There was a story on the page. There it was again. Two cunts. Three cunts! Shit Mom! What are you reading? This was porn. My Mom was reading porn in the bath, I thought.

My eyes became transfixed by the story. It was filth. A woman being tortured and made to parade around naked, seemingly against her will. She was a slave and had her hands tied behind her back and affixed to a collar she had been made to wear. Hmm? Kinky!

I scrolled to the top of the page to see what the website was called. Literotica. Shit. My Mom was a perve. And for some reason that notion thrilled me. Because I was one too. I had just jerked off with my Mom's knickers to my face and had touched the glistening end of my tip to her crotch.

I looked at her search history. Literotica, Literotica, Literotica. All the way down, it just kept going and going, each page she had visited had a different title, but from what I could tell, my sweet darling mother was into bondage. Well that was a turn up for the books.

I lost track of time and next thing I knew, Mom was knocking on the bathroom door.

"You alright in there Babesh? You haven't fallen in, have you?"

"Just wiping Mom. I'll be out in a jiffy."

When I stepped into the room, I immediately felt it cooler. I guess there was a fair bit of heat in that small windowless bathroom, some of which was probably my doing.

Mom was already in bed, changed into her nightie and sat up, watching the TV. She tapped the bed alongside her and peeled back the corner of the sheet. "It's gone ten Babesh. Time for bed."

I grabbed my PJs and slipped back into the bathroom to change. I came back into the room and grabbed a pillow from the bed and turned around to go get a blanket.

"Hey! You're not shleeping on the floor. I meant what I shaid. Into bed now."

I placed the pillow back down and sat on the bed.

"I don't bite."

Maybe she didn't, but I couldn't guarantee the same for myself. If I were to roll over in the night and somehow end up with my head on her breast, she wasn't going to be able to prize me away for all the tea in China.

I lay there awkwardly still next to my Mom. The lights were out and I could tell from her breathing she was awake. Next thing I knew, her hand was feeling for mine under the covers.

"This is nishe," she said, before rolling onto her side to face me and put her hand on my chest in a mirror image version of this morning. But this time, her leg stayed put.

It wasn't long before she drifted off to sleep; every so often I would hear a little piglet snore and then she'd lick her lips and just go back to quiet breathing. I lay there awake for the longest time, my penis had received more blood from my brain today than it'd had in a long time.

I just couldn't seem to fall asleep, so many thoughts were floating around my head. Not only had I caught glimpses of my Mom's pussy, her bottom, the outline of her nipples and been the recipient of a couple of kisses on the lips from my Mom in the last twenty-four hours, but I had also discovered my Mom liked to read erotic stories about bondage. Oh – and I'd fallen in love with her too. And now I was in bed with her sleeping next to me and my boner was climbing halfway to the stars. Hardly a normal day.

I think I saw daylight before I did finally fall asleep and I slept solid for a few hours before waking abruptly. I couldn't remember what had woken me, but the first thought that entered my mind was that I was in bed next to Mom.

I opened my eyes to see that she was facing away from me, lying on her stomach with her left arm under her head, her long, wavy brown hair pulled my gaze over her back and shoulders, down her green nightgown, which I soon realised had ridden up on her body during the night. Not only that, but she had kicked the covers almost entirely off her body and they were now at her feet. The most startling thing however, was that her ass was bare and exposed in its entirety for me to view.

I sat up and leaned on my left elbow. Mom was still asleep. I think. I was almost certain of it. Without any authorisation from me, my right hand had gone slightly AWOL and was hovering just barely an inch above Mom's bare behind.

My brain yelled orders at my hand to retreat, but my hand took no notice. It just sat there, floating, as if on a cushion of air. In a world of its own.

Just then, Mom moved, her ass lifting off the bed momentarily, just skimming my hand. I was sure I was done for. If she was just now this moment waking, she surely felt my hand on her ass as surely as I felt her sweet ass on my hand. I was done for and ready to apologise or make up some lie when all of a sudden, Mom rolled onto her left side, still facing away from me.

A moment later, she completed her roll onto her back and that section of her body that had been uncovered on her rear was now uncovered on her front. Her pubes. All of them. Not just a dark brief flash between her legs, but full 1080P HD Technicolour Dolby surround sound pubes. IMAX pubes. In 3D – glasses free. Layer upon blessed layer of them.

My eyes wouldn't pull away from them. I tried turning my head, but my eyes stayed pointed at Mom's thatch. I think if I could have made my head spin through 180 degrees, my eyes would be facing backwards.

Somehow, don't ask me how, I managed to glance at Mom's face. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was peaceful. Was she still asleep? God, I hope she was. She was magnificent. Simply without peer.

I lay my head back down on the pillow and closed my eyes slightly so I could watch Mom and pretend to be asleep should she wake and feel the cool air on her snatch.

But Mom just lay there, without expression, just breathing. I raised my head to look at it again, take a mental photograph of this delight on show. If only I could have a real photo, or better, a video.

Why couldn't I? The camcorder was on the bureau; we'd used it in St. Ives. I looked over my shoulder and saw it, clear as day. Could I get out of bed without disturbing her? Reach for it, bring it across, get back into bed, switch it on and actually start to film her? No. She'd be too near waking.

My heart raced. I had this once in a lifetime opportunity, handed to me on a silver platter. If I didn't at least try, I'd never forgive myself. Unless it was a dream. That's what it was. Damn. It just had to be. I was fast asleep dreaming I'd woken to find the goddess Venus herself in the bed beside me.

Or was I? If it was a dream, I could reach for the camcorder and at least try. It wouldn't matter if I got caught in a dream, none of it would be real. But if it wasn't a dream, this was my golden opportunity. And I just couldn't pass that up.

Working with borrowed finesse, I crept back into bed. Mom's eyes remained closed, her breathing uniform. Lens cap off. Power on. Record. Zoom.

I was not a religious man. But if I got away with this, I was going to get down on my hands and knees and thank someone. Thank something. I let the camera pan up and down Mom's body as I looked in the swivel viewfinder screen at what I was filming. Up and down, in and out. I covered every conceivable shot, before panning out to get a full body shot. Mom. Her green nightie wrapped around her perfect breasts, outlines of her nipples against the soft satin material. Her bare midriff. Sasquatch. Her supple thighs and legs that went all the way down. Beauty personified.

---

Chapter 04

My son and I had been back home for a couple of weeks. That trip to Cornwall seemed to do him some real good. He was back to his old self. Actually, the way he was behaving around the house, he was back to his old teenage self. He was full of beans and a joy to be around. He was laughing and playing and going out with his father down the pub twice a week. The two of them were having a grand old time.

He'd heard back from two universities, each inviting him for interview, but not for another month yet. George's next business trip was ten days away and my son and I were going to head north this time. A cabin cruiser on the Caledonian Canal. Loch Ness. Nessie! It was a midweek break, Monday to Friday and we were actually going to be away from home one night longer than my husband.

My son had been so attentive to me the last few weeks. He was like a transformed man and it made my heart sing that he was enjoying life again. And in some small part, I hoped that I had helped him regain some of that which he had lost.

I knew he had filmed me.

I woke that second morning in Penzance when I felt his weight get up off the bed, then creep silently across the floor. With his back turned, I could feel the air on my crotch and looked down and reached to cover myself up. But then I thought that would only embarrass my son if I did. He'd know that I knew that he had seen me.

I saw him pick up the camcorder and so I lay my head back on the pillow and shut my eyes and tried desperately to control my breathing. I felt him clamber back into bed and pop the lens cap. I even heard the faint whirr of the hard drive spring into action. My son was filming me. And I was displaying my womanhood to him.

And it was my every dream come true.

I had never fantasized about my son. I didn't think of him that way, he was my son, the love of my life, my pride and joy, I would die for him in an instant, I wouldn't hesitate. That's what mothers do. They protect their sons.

But I was also a sexually frustrated woman on the brink, who had become prone to fantasizing about being on display, being naked on display, exposed. And knowing that my son's eyes were upon me was the most sexually stimulating thing that had ever happened to me in my life. I just hoped I wasn't doing him any mental damage as I used him to propel my turgid fantasies.

There was a film he wanted to see, so I had given him some money to go to the cinema and grab a bite to eat at some fast food place of his choosing beforehand and a little bit more so he could stop off for a pint on the way home. I thought I'd give him a nice day out, my treat. I also needed him out of the house because I wanted to watch that video of me again.

He'd been keeping the camcorder in his room, permanently plugged into his television via some cables, the charger at the ready on his desk. I'd first watched it three days after getting home. I was shocked by what I saw, but also incredibly turned on. Yes, my son had violated my privacy for his own carnal needs. But what were those needs? Was he in love with me? Or was he just like every other young man and just infatuated with the naked female form.

But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't be mad at him for that, because inadvertently or otherwise, he had stumbled into my deepest need, that to be exposed and vulnerable.

That first time I watched it, I trembled and fell to my knees as my legs just would not sustain me. Afterwards, I felt sick to my stomach. I thought I was a bad mother, leading my son on, allowing him a glimpse of something that could never be, that was forbidden, taboo. I was sure I was going to burn in hell for my sins. I'd corrupted my son.

That night in bed, as I lay next to George, I initiated sex. I never did that. Not only did I initiate it, but I led. I sucked my husband's cock, I rode him like a cowboy. I had a screaming orgasm and he had to cover my mouth with his hand to subdue me. By the time my husband spilled his seed inside me, I'd come three times.

The second time I watched the video, I sat at my son's desk chair and masturbated, right there in his room.

By the third time I did it, I had ungodly wanton desires to do it again. Expose myself and have someone I knew, see me.

But today, my son was enjoying himself at the movies. I went into his room. I switched on the camcorder and began scrolling down the file menu and discovered my son had renamed the titles. Gone were the date entries, in their place, he had given the files names. 'St. Ives 1' and 'St. Ives 2'. 'Hotel Room'. 'Sleeping Beauty'.

Oh, bless him. I played Sleeping Beauty and it was me, naked on my son's TV. Well, pubes out naked anyway.

That was it. That was all the incentive I needed. I was going to make a video of my own and I was going to film it in my son's room.

I opened the doors to our walk in closet and found an old blouse that I used for painting. With scissors in hand, I cut under the collar, removing it from the shirt, tossing the blouse back in a drawer. I then proceeded to strip off naked, all the while watching my reflection in the dressing room mirror. I took the collar from the old white shirt and fastened it around my neck. I looked like a Playboy bunny I thought, minus the dickie bow and ears!

But that was my slave collar. I'd never built up the nerve to visit a sex shop, even though I knew the location of one in town and had tried on more than one occasion to venture in, but I'd always become nervous at the prospect someone might see me going inside. Ironic, I know, seeing as that was my fantasy.

But fantasy was fine, reality made me nervous. Reality had consequences attached. There was just that one day when fantasy and reality collided and my son filmed his mother naked on the bed while he thought she was sound asleep – the most thrilling day of my life and it had somehow involved my beautiful baby boy.

I set up the camcorder to point into my son's room. Then pressed record. I walked away from the camera, giving it a tasty view of my big, ugly ass. Then I turned to face it, hesitant at first, but then I felt the thrill build inside me. I knelt. Slaves had to kneel. I pretended the camera was my master and bowed my head before my master.