Sex With Mother

To be honest we were always much too close, Mother and I. When I was six years old, just before she kicked him out, my Father got angry with me for some reason and called me a Mummy's Boy. I didn't understand why he thought that was a bad thing. Anyway, Mother wasn't about to put up with anyone trying to come between us. He had to go.

That left the two of us, alone in a large house on the edge of a small town in the middle of nowhere. Mother had a couple of relationships with local eligible bachelors, not to mention with one or two of the local married men, but nothing that lasted.

Looking back now I know that she must have been bored out of her mind, and to deal with it she drank a little bit too much. As for me, I was painfully shy and awkward, and hopelessly unpopular at school. I never had a real friend and absolutely never got anywhere near having a girlfriend.

Neither of us fitted in, but we always had each other. "It's the two of us against the world, Tommy" she told me one day as she held me tight, crying about something, and that suited me just fine.

As time went by our bond just got stronger and stronger. In particular, Mother had an almost magical ability to know exactly what was going on inside my head. If I felt sick, if I had a bad dream or was upset about something, I didn't have to say a word – she always knew, she always came to me. And whatever it was she kissed it better, stroking my hair and murmuring sweet, soothing words of love into my ear.

But the years passed and eventually that summer arrived, the one between me turning eighteen and going away to college. Actually I was dreading it – leaving home and moving hundreds of miles to a new town where I could meet lots of interesting, attractive new people and be unpopular with them too. I just accepted it as something that had to happen, another ordeal that I had to endure.

And although she ddn't say anything I knew Mother was terrified of being left on her own. As the summer went on she got more clingy, more needy, always wanting hugs and cuddles and kisses. Then it happened. During these displays of affection from Mother I started getting unwanted, but utterly unstoppable, erections.

It's difficult to believe now, years later, the power of the desperate, painful, crippling yearning for sex of my virgin teenage self. The overwhelming strength of that desire set against the total absence of any chance of it being satisfied was too much to bear. Frequent masturbation stopped me exploding but didn't even take the edge off my need to merge with warm, soft female flesh.

Even so, this whole new reaction to Mother worried me. I thought about it, and as I did my attitude towards her transformed. For the first time I tried to imagine how she must look to the rest of the world. She had a few signs of wear and tear around her eyes and lips, but fewer than most other women in their early forties. Her hair, cut short now into a bob rather than the long tresses that I remembered from childhood, was still a lovely honey blonde. Her eyes were still icy blue. She worked hard to keep her tall, willowy body slim but nicely curved. She dressed proudly, in ways that showed off that body - apparently for nobody's benefit but her own.

It dawned on me why the men in town always seemed pleased to see her but their wives never did. Because if she wasn't Mother, if she was a stranger I'd seen in the street or on a bus, I would have wanted her. I had a thing for older women by then anyway, and yes - I most definitely would have wanted Mother.

From that point on I couldn't define her just as Mother anymore. She was a real, living, breathing woman. And despite my guilt and shame at what I was feeling I would never try to fend her off, never be the one who brought any physical contact to an end. I would just make sure that she didn't feel my hard cock pressed against her belly when she hugged me, and arrange my body and clothes to hide my erection when we curled up together to watch television.

Late one night, only about a week before I was due to leave, we were sitting on the sofa watching a movie, as we often did. Mother's head was resting on my shoulder and her arm was linked through mine. We'd both had a few drinks and I dozed off. When I woke Mother's hand was resting on the inside of my thigh. She had never put her hand there before.

I tried to cover up the bulge that grew in my jeans and we sat in silence until the movie's end credits rolled. Mother turned off the TV, her hand still on my thigh. "Tom" she said "It's time we had a talk." My heart sank. "You do know you don't have to go away, don't you? You're so worried it's breaking my heart, baby, but there's no law that says you have to go to college if you don't want to. You can always stay here and look after me."

I'd been expecting this all summer. She was smiling and trying to sound light-hearted but I could see the desperation in her eyes. I gave her the speech I'd prepared for the occasion – I would miss her too, but I had to leave sometime and I would be back during the holidays. And anyway, what would I do if I stayed at home?

I could tell she was disappointed. She looked into my eyes, now with a serious, grown-up expression that I couldn't fathom but that made me feel nervous and even more aroused at the same time. "Well then" she said slowly, with a husky, shaky voice, "even if you don't care about looking after me, I could still look after you".

Something was wrong. A woman shouldn't look at her own son the way Mother was looking at me, shouldn't talk the way she was talking. The hand on my thigh started moving upwards very, very gradually. I couldn't hide my erection now – no matter how hard I wished it away, it just wouldn't go.

I couldn't do anything except stare back into Mother's eyes as she reached down and pinched the zip of my jeans. "Mummy knows what you want, Tom" she whispered, as if she was sharing a secret "I always know, don't I?"

Maybe I should have stopped her, should have said something. But my mouth was too dry to speak, my arms wouldn't move. She pulled down my zip agonizingly slowly. She kept her eyes fixed on mine, staring deep down into them, as I felt her long, cool fingers slip inside my shorts, curl around my hot, aching cock and ease it out into the open.

I gasped and jerked, but still couldn't speak. My cock had swollen bigger than I'd ever seen it before, and Mother gazed lovingly at it as she ran her fingertips up and down the shaft and around my balls - oh so gently - as I began to squirm and wriggle. But I didn't tell her to stop. She leant her head down as if to get a closer look at what she was doing to her young son, but then her lips parted and I realised what she was going to do next. At last I heard myself mutter "Please Mother... this shouldn't happen..."

I wasn't sure I meant it though. Of course Mother knew that I didn't mean it at all - she ignored my muttering and devoted herself to my cock. First she licked it, slowly and softly to begin with then harder and more urgently as she started to make hungry, kitten-wants-the-cream sounds that mixed with my own moans. Finally Mother's mouth moved over the head of my cock and down, and up and down, over and over again, and she sucked me hard, and I was lost in a world of sensation and ecstatic pleasure that I can't describe.

I don't know how long I held out against this delicious torture – probably less than two minutes. I tried to warn her, gasping something like "Mother I can't stop it, I can't stop it" just before I came with an unnatural, violent intensity that I'd never felt before. It was as if my whole body was melting hotly into Mother's mouth as she swallowed and grunted in time with my spasms. My head was empty, cleared of doubt, confusion and everything else by the overpowering orgasm.

By the time my cock finally stopped twitching I was only semi-conscious. At last Mother released me from her mouth, wiped her hand across her lips and smiled in a way that frightened me but at the same time made my cock start to stiffen again. She leant towards me and murmured hoarsely into my ear "It's time you were in bed, young man".

She dragged me by my cock up the stairs, past the door to my bedroom with its pop star posters and old toys, and into hers. She turned to face me. "Take off your clothes, Tommy" she said sternly. "Go on. All of them." I could feel myself blushing, and I still knew that I really, really shouldn't be doing this. But a deeper, stronger part of me badly wanted to – to stand naked and erect in front of the woman I had loved and trusted without question since the day she gave birth to me.

So I did what I was told, still blushing but stripping off my shirt, jeans and shorts while Mother watched me closely. "Good boy" she said unsteadily "Very good. Now me, Tom. Take Mummy's clothes off too."

I looked into her eyes to make sure she really meant it, and saw that she did. I was now completely taken over by brute lust, not caring – or maybe I mean I was loving – how perverted it all was.

Mother was wearing a simple but expensive-looking white lace blouse and faded blue jeans. With trembling hands I undid the buttons of the blouse and slipped it back over her slim shoulders, leaving her pretty, flowery bra underneath. To undo the clasp I moved behind her, letting my hand brush the nipples of her small, firm breasts as I peeled it away from her skin and feeling their stiffness imitating my cock's.

Mother was starting to breathe heavily as I moved in front of her again, going down on my knees to pull down her jeans and panties. I felt a warmth coming from the area around the neatly trimmed patch of blonde pubic hair, and on impulse I nuzzled my face against it.

This made Mother moan in a way that I liked very much, but she pulled away. "Plenty of time for that later, if you want. Tonight's my treat. Stand up baby". As I stood she slid her hand down my belly and began tugging on my cock firmly but slowly. I moved my hands up to stroke and pull those nipples, making her moan again. "Tell me what you want, Tommy" she said in a voice dripping with desire. "Tell me something really dirty you've always wanted to do with a girl."

Even in my hyper-aroused condition this made me hesitate. "Well" I mumbled "I liked what we did downstairs".

"Oh so did I, my gorgeous little man. You taste lovely. But wouldn't you like to try something else?" Mother urged, starting to scratch my balls with her long, crimson fingernails in a way that was half painful, half just wonderful. "Anything. I promise I won't say no."

I groaned, at the effect her words were having on me as much as at what her hand was doing, and managed to stutter "Do girls... do women play with themselves... I mean... masturbate?"

Mother didn't laugh or slap my face, as I half expected. She smiled and said "That's better. You mean do I masturbate? Well, sometimes I need to baby, yes. You'd like to watch me, wouldn't you?"

All I could do was nod dumbly. She sat me down in the chair by her dressing table and backed the few feet up to her bed. As she reclined she stretched like a cat, closed her eyes, and began running her hands over her belly and thighs. Then she concentrated on her breasts, rubbing and digging in her nails much harder than I would have dared to, and slowly began to writhe.

I watched transfixed as Mother reached one hand down between her legs, the initial contact of her fingers with her pussy making her jerk and gasp with pleasure. She opened her eyes, looking straight at me as her hand moved faster. I could see her finger sliding in and out and heard the wet, slippery sound it made as she brought down her other hand to rub her clitoris.

"You too, baby" she gasped, staring now at my cock. "Please Tom... stroke it for me". Without even thinking I dropped one hand down and started gently stroking with my fingertips, the way Mother had stroked me downstairs. Her eyes widened, her hands moved faster still, her writhing grew more urgent. "Oh Jesus... already... you... you're..."

Whatever Mother was trying to say was lost as the orgasm overwhelmed her. She growled like an animal, sweating and twisting her body as the sweet, pretty face I had known all my life contorted with what could have been agony or ecstasy. I don't think I will ever see anything in my whole life as deeply arousing as my beautiful, crazy Mother when she came.

I didn't know what I was doing anymore. I stood and staggered towards the bed, through the pile of our discarded clothes mingled together on the floor. Then somehow I was on top of her, between her legs, shoving my tongue roughly into her mouth as the last ripples of her orgasm passed through her body. She whispered hotly, pleadingly into my ear, but I couldn't make out the words. Her hand found my painfully hard cock and guided it to the lips of her warm, wet pussy. Then she said something I did hear. "Fuck me Tom... for God's sake fuck me now".

So again I tried to oblige, my pulse rate through the roof and my mouth bone dry as I slowly and carefully pushed my cock in as far as it would go and held it there, just relishing the sensation I had dreamed of for so long. Mother whimpered "Don't tease me baby, do it hard, as hard as you can". And I fucked her harder and harder until I was slamming and grinding into her as fast and hard as I could, and Mother responded, twisting and moaning, kissing my neck, digging her nails into my back, telling me how good I was and how much she loved me until she came again, bucking and wrapping herself tightly around me. I barely slowed down as she screamed her pleasure, and moments later when her third orgasm began I couldn't hold back my own any longer. We came together. I was aware of nothing except Mother crying out "Oh God oh God oh God" over and over again and the glorious, incredible, electrifying sensations we shared as I emptied what felt like my entire being into her.

We lay drenched in each other's sweat, hearts pounding insanely, gasping for air. When I started to soften inside her I rolled to her side and closed my eyes. I must have slept – or passed out – for a few minutes.

When I came to Mother was smiling at me dreamily, her fingers fiddling with my sore cock. Then I noticed the tears in her eyes.

"Wouldn't you like it to be like this all the time, my love?" she murmured. "Just you and me, all snug and cosy in bed together. We could do anything you want. Any time you want it. It's not wrong, as long as we love each other enough. You don't really want to go away do you darling? You won't really leave your mummy all alone?"