One Mother, One Son, One MorningbyYsoi©
This story is the earliest one that I still have a copy of. As such it was going to go in as part of the "Early Works" collection, but for some reason I have re-written it into present-tense, used what I hope isn't excessive emphasis and removed most of the character description. :)
Italics are used for thoughts, and bold is used for emphasis.
In case you haven't already realized, this story contains one mother, one adult son, and the various sexual things that they do together one morning.
One Mother, One Son, One Morning.
(Or, why every son should sleep naked when sharing a room with his mother?)
Part 01 - Samantha
She blushes, trying not to look across at him. Trying dizzily to wipe the sight of his naked body from her mind. She has seen more than enough men naked to feel nothing but disinterest at the sight of yet another, but there is something about him that triggers a rush of long dormant desire and arousal within her.
Could it be the fact that he is hard? That his position upon his bed gives her the opportunity to take in every delicious inch of his cock? She ponders the question in silence, gazing at his manhood as she tries to analyse the source of her desire, desperate to rationalize and then control it. It is, she decides, an admittedly beautiful specimen of its kind. Long and broad and yet also, she thinks guiltily, slender enough to slide oh-so-comfortably into her wet pussy. At the end of the day, though, it is still just a cock; and even though her ex-husband's had been just as attractive when erect, her decision to divorce him had come at a time when she had long since lost track of how many years it had been since the sight of his particular specimen had elicited even a spark of interest in her.
Could it be the sight of the rest of his body, then? Might it be that her arousal is due to nothing more than the fact that he is attractive to her? His body is so far from what she considers her ideal that at first she discounts the thought as being too silly to consider, but she runs her eyes from his groin up to his peacefully sleeping face regardless. What if he were a stranger? What if she awoke to find him knelt over her, his cock jutting upward and toward her face, his hands upon her shoulders as he moved his manhood ever closer to her slowly opening mouth? That body above and on top of her.
Oh God yes, that could definitely be a part of it.
She pushes the image from her mind as quickly as she can, trying not to dwell on the thought of how wonderful his knob might feel upon her out-stretched tongue. Desperately rationalises her feelings once more.
Okay, so his body is just a little bit hot, but at work she's seen plenty of men with bodies that are more attractive and yet she's never once felt her pussy react so strongly to any of them. Of course, she hadn't seen them totally stark naked either, but it wasn't as if their normally miniscule swimming trunks could hide much of anything anyway; and more than once she'd seen a suspiciously straight bulge as they tried to act cool in front of the female sun-bathers...
Then might her arousal be due to something non-physical? Something non-animalistic? Could it be how helpful and supportive he'd always been towards her? Could it be that he'd always helped with the housework whenever he had time? Certainly that was something that her husband had never tried to do, but then she'd never been attracted to that sort of man anyway. Of course real men had to be reliable, but they also had to be strong and dominating; and just how effectively could she expect to be dominated by a man who had had 17 years less than her to master ironing, but still did it far better than she did? No, his being helpful couldn't be the reason why he turned her on; and if it wasn't his body, or the way that he treated her that made her want him so desperately, then there was only one other thing left.
She was turned on because she loved him. Because she loved him as a man and not just as a son.
Oh God, no. I thought I'd gotten over this...
She swallows, staring across the small room at him. Across the floor with its littering of wrapping paper and birthday cards, of beer bottles and pizza cartons. If only she had a glass of wine with which she could forget her feelings towards him, drowning herself in fantasies filled with other men! If only she had the small vibrator with which she had so often exhausted herself, cumming time and time again until the need to sleep had defeated her desire! Either of those, or alternatively the courage to slip out of bed and serve him as she had so often served his father. The determination to take his beautiful cock between her lips and worship it until his seed filled her mouth, all the while praying that he would desire her as a woman rather than feel disgust for her as a pervert once she was done.
Why should it matter that he was her son, though? He was eighteen now! What was so wrong about her expressing her forbidden desire now that he was an adult? Why couldn't she give him some happiness and have some happiness herself even if he was the source of it? She closes her eyes then, tears of guilt, shame and helplessness brimming within them, and she wishes that he could somehow forget that she was his mother. That he could be like his father and all of the other men whom his father had at least during the first half of their marriage brought around to indulge themselves in her body. That he could look at her as a woman and use as her such as well.
Was it so wrong? Was what she wanted really so dirty and horrible that it was only right that the man that she loved would always be forbidden to her? Didn't she deserve some happiness? Couldn't she enjoy some of the love and desire that her ex-husband had found so quickly after their divorce? It wasn't as if she was just after a man, or even that she was desperate for cock, but she wanted him, her son. She wanted him, and she wanted to be wanted, and if he didn't mind her unusual needs then she would gladly fuck him senseless for as long as they both lived.
Could her Tim be the man to give her what his father once had?
She feels her heart skip a beat at the thought. Opens her eyes to look at him furtively, her gaze travelling back down from his gentle face to the raw, brutal thrust of his cock. He's changed so much since the last time she saw him naked, and when she looks at him as a man rather than as a son, she realizes that somewhere back when she hadn't been watching, his body had transformed into one that many women would love to find lying beside them in the morning.
God, it was so easy to imagine him fucking her! So easy to imagine them sharing moments of ecstasy! She blushes at the images that swirl within her mind and make her loins ache for the touch of her fingers if nothing else. How skilled would he be with his hands? How satisfying would it be to have his hard, hot cock buried deep inside her arse or her loins? How much cum would he squirt across her heaving tits, and how eagerly would he piss across her face as she brought herself to orgasm before him? Perhaps he would never be able to dominate her or enjoy her perversions as his father had, but she knows that she would gladly exchange what she had with his father for a more adult, more sexual version of the love that he has shown her as a son.
She breathes his name. Licks her dry lips then repeats it once more a bit loudly, a bit more certainly despite not even knowing why it is that she speaks. Does she want him to wake up? Does she want him to stay asleep so that she can look at him a bit closer? Does she want him to stay asleep until she is knelt beside his bed, his jutting cock pressed firmly against her tongue? She knows that her true motive is probably a bit of all three, but for a brief moment in time she doesn't care. She'd raised him as best she could With nothing but financial help from his father, caring and tending to him whilst wishing that his father could show her some of the warmth and love that he showed her; but those times were long gone. Her heart pounding in dizzy desire she realizes that with his transition into adulthood she has reached a crossroads. That she can no longer ignore the feelings that have been ever-so-slowly building in her for longer than she could remember. That she could no longer ignore the fact that he was a man as well as a son.
In the past she'd devoted herself to his happiness as a mother. From now on and if he would accept her, she decides that she will gladly devote herself to his happiness as a woman.
No... Not as a woman, but as his sex-slave... As his slut...
She sits up as quietly as she can, aware that their room is hardly the quietest one that they have ever stayed in. Aware that the ticking of the cheap clock and the muted rumble of traffic out on the motorway would have kept him awake if he had been a light sleeper; and yet even so certain that every rustle of the blanket, every beat of her heart, will wake him. Would he look at her and want her as she wanted him? The attention of the male swimmers have left her in no doubt that she looks okay compared to most women of her age, but how would a man as young as he feel about her? Would he mind that all of her dieting and training had failed to prevent the years from adding a touch of sag to her breasts or a hint of softness to her bottom and belly? Even if he didn't mind that, would he be able to love her as a woman? Would he be able to stick his cock into the pussy from which he had entered the world?
Oh God, I need a drink!..
She pauses then. Scans empty bottle after empty bottle, momentarily frozen in fear by the possible consequences of what she longs to do. What if he ignores her? What if he shows distaste for the body which his girlfriend's puts to shame? It had been so much easier when her ex had been around to give her orders! She smiles wryly at the thought that she should ever want him in any way again, but as she does so she remembers the way in which he had demanded her services. The way in which he had ordered her to pleasure the men that he brought around every Friday.
Suck him, cunt. Take his cock all the way in. Suck him off. That's it, make him cum. Now drink his piss.
But what if the he in question could be her darling Tim? What if her selfish bastard of an ex could be in the room with her now, ordering her to bare herself before their son? Ordering her to pay him back for the wonderful view with which he has transformed her day? To become her own Mistress, to give herself her own orders until such time as Tim could take over for her.
She flushes at the thought. Bites her lip and breathes deep, luxuriating in the tender, teasing touch of her own finger beneath her panties and upon the swelling of her mound. Yes, she could do that. It wouldn't be the same, and her orders could only ever be temporary stop-gaps until she could persuade Tim to offer them instead; but she is startled to find that she feels almost the same surge in confidence, the same release from responsibility as she had when her husband had been the one to offer them.
Suck him off, you fucking slut. Get on your hands and knees, bitch, and make sure the first thing your darling son sees when he wakes up is your wet pussy ready and waiting for his cock.
Oh, that's good as well! She shivers, closing her eyes and biting her lip once more. What if she did it? What if she? ... No. She can't do such a thing, can't risk his disapproval; but at least she can make sure that he has a nice view of her when he wakes up. That he'll see her as she saw him, and that if he chose to cop a feel as well... She looks down shyly, imagining his hands roving over her tits, imagining his fingers finding the sopping wetness between her legs, wondering if she can frig herself to a climax right then and there.
One step at a time, slut! Let him take control early on and later on he'll make you his.
Can he? Will he? She thinks that he might be too kind. That it's hard to imagine him dominating her as Mike had done, but she smiles anyway. She'll do anything if it excites him, and if she can somehow seduce him? She's certain that he'll do the same for her...
Her face flushed and her heart pounding, Samantha pushes her blanket onto the floor then slips out of her pyjamas and lies down facing her son; determined that with his approval she is going to find out just how many times a man can cum in a lifetime.
Part 02 - Timothy
His cock is so hard that it aches.
He swallows, wishing that he could drink something to get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth, aware that his heart is racing, that he should do something to cover himself but powerless to tear his eyes from his mother's body. At first he had thought that he was still asleep, that he was just in the middle of one of his usual wet-dreams, but the sound of birds chirping outside the single window convinced him to open his eyes again. To drink in the sight of the sunlight spilling across his mother's naked body.
To gaze at her as memories of all that they had done the night before filtered slowly back into his mind. A night of drinks with the woman that he loved. Of silly card games and stupid movies. Of the body that was now displayed so completely and yet also so demurely, pressed against his as they danced, laughing and giggling at every failed attempt to find a patch of clear carpet amidst the debris of a party that had seemed to go on forever. He had thought it perfect then, had thought it inconceivable that any son could have a more wonderful eighteenth birthday, but he had never expected to wake up to the sight of her lain naked just meters away from him.
Has it really been nine years since that day? Has the beautiful woman who lies facing him now really gone through so many years with so little change to the body that had awed him back then? He wants to wank as he burns the sight of her every curve into his mind. Wants to cover her hair and so deliciously bared tits with his cum. To bury his face and tongue into her the warmth of her pussy then suck on her erect clit. He wants to do all of the things that he has fantasised about so often since that day, but instead all he can do is stare in shock.
She's gorgeous. An angel brought to earth. The star of his fantasies for as long as he has wanked and, though he can never admit it, the woman whom he imagines without fail whenever he makes love to his girlfriend. She is his mother, and he wants to protect and free her from his father's influence; to protect her happiness as she protected his in the past. She is his mother, but he wants with every cell in his body to make love to her. To pleasure her and fuck her, and then to be pleasured and used by her. To erase her memory of his father by making her cum until he is all that she can remember; until her body itself recognises only his inside her.
A breath's distance at most and he could kiss every square centimetre of the beautiful woman who has sheltered and raised him on her own. The space of a few heartbeats and he could press his nose into her hair and nuzzle at her neck as he had done as a child, whilst his hands explore the hair that he has seen only once before and the treasure that lies beneath it!
But, she is his mother, and so he fights a battle against his love and his desire. Struggles with all of his might against the insane desire to wrap his hand about his cock and wank himself again and again and even against as he admires her beauty. He watches her as if entranced, and slowly the clock ticks onward, seconds turning into minutes; whilst the band of sunlight that splashes across her back, arm and right breast slowly increases in brightness and spread. Edging up towards her innocent face, threatening to shine across her still closed eyes.
He knows that she will awake quickly once it has reached her now-closed eyes; but he is helpless to stop himself from staring at her. Time after time he admires her from head to foot whilst the splash of sunlight creeps ever closer to the point at which it will awake her, and as powerless as he is to look away, he is equally unable to cover himself.
How would she respond to their mutual nudity? How would she respond to the sight of his cock thrusting rigidly towards his belly? Would she ask him to take a longer look? Would she spread those so cruelly pressed-together thighs and show him the pussy that he imagines whenever his girlfriend lowers herself onto his cock or grinds her sex upon his face?
It is that impossible thought that frees his mind from the trance into which it had fallen. No, such a thing could never happen. He blushes, knowing that his dream will never, can never come true, and in that moment he becomes suddenly self-conscious. Suddenly aware that he is unable to name a society in which a mother would consider her son's erection to be a compliment. He swallows at that, shivering at the thought of what she might think, then reaches for and pulls his discarded blanket about his waist before going to stand up quietly.
"Good morning, Tim."
He gives a tiny, almost imperceptible start of surprise at the sound of his mother's sleepy voice. How much of his body has she seen? Might she have realized that he had lay awake for almost quarter of an hour, his cock aching afresh and twitching with every fresh fantasy that her body had inspired within him?
He glances at her for just a moment; and his heart skips a beat at the sight of her reaching for a blanket with which she can cover her body as he covers his waist. Of the arm with which she so-spectacularly fails to hide not just her bare breasts but one proud, jutting nipple as well. Of the blush that touches her cheeks, her face so wonderfully innocent and for some reason nervous that he wants to hug her and apologise for his indecent thoughts at the same time. Dare he look for just a moment longer? Dare he stare at the triangle of flesh that she has for some reason forgotten to hide, and which leads down between her thighs to the plump, crinkly folds of her pussy? He turns his back on her immediately. Bites his lip and suppresses a moan of delight, thankful that she cannot see his face as his cock stiffens and swells as if ready to spew his seed across the blankets that covers it.
"I'm sorry, Tim... It was a little bit too hot last night, and I... I forgot that we were in the same room so, um, sorry about that..."
She hadn't seen him naked. Must therefore have failed to notice the perverse nature of the gaze with which he had admired her as she slept. He feels an instant of relief followed by a rush of regret and desire, and he wonders what might have happened if she had. Of course, he knows that she prefers a different sort of man to him, and he has no expectation that she might feel any kind of arousal at the sight of his body; but he's unable to deny himself the little fantasy.
"No probs, Mom! I sort of did the same and we're both adults anyway so it doesn't really matter... I'd like to get some of the cooked breakfast if I can, though, Mom, so can I use the bathroom first?"
"Thanks! See you soon, yeah?"
He reaches the bathroom door quickly, wondering as he does so if he might be able to wank before they hit the road again; and then in instant during which he thinks that he has escape, she speaks once more.
"I... I guess, um... You saw me didn't you, Tim?"
He feels his heart stop.
What if she has realized for how long he had lain awake? What if despite the lack of anger within her voice, he has offended her? How could he ever hope to repair the damage that her knowledge of his filthy, disgusting lust would do to their relationship? He stands frozen with his hand upon the door-handle. Swallows, helpless to reply. What if in his desire for her he has shown her that side of him that he has tried so hard and for so long to keep hidden?