The Clowns In My Pants Ch. 01

It started with; no wait, that's not right, it didn't start with tacky magazine personality tests, but it was rekindled by them.

My brain is the brain of a human male; on days when I'm not having sex, and usually also on days when I am having sex, my brain fantasises and schemes about having sex. When favourite fantasies would need a refresh; when visions of the girl sitting opposite me on the bus with her cherry red lip-sticked lips wrapped around my cock were becoming blaze, when watching my cock pump punishingly into Paris Hiltons pale pink ass was just another cum fest, when dreams of lesbian twins taking turns riding me while they licked each other to orgasm were dreary old re-runs, on days when my self-stroking hand wanted to test the boundaries of taboo, I would imagine the lover gripping my cock was my mother.

These were images living only in the arousal of masturbation; there was no waking thought of making them real. I had no intention of making moves on her like I occasionally tried with those girls sitting opposite on the bus; that is until those tacky magazine personality tests came into my life.

You know the type, there's an advert on the front cover that says 'Take the test in our sealed section - Do you like a lucky licky or do prefer a tricky dicky.' Or a cover that says 'Page sixty-nine has our exclusive quiz - Discover you hidden passions, find out what really turns you on.'

I found out my mother was a junky for those quizzes. She wouldn't just tick the box for A B or C, she would write expansive comments in the margins. I suppose it was some sort of therapy for her; when you're not getting it the way you want it, release your feelings by writing them down. I read and absorbed her hundreds and hundreds of answers in dozens and dozens of magazines. And it made me want mom for real.

It wasn't that she'd said anything about me, or gave any hints that incest might be acceptable, or anything else that might lead you to say to say things to yourself. "Aha, now I see why reading those responses would make a man decide to fuck his mother."

No, there was none of that in them, it was just that here was a woman's sexuality opened up to me; here was a woman answering candidly how she liked the taste of pre-cum more than cum itself, how she preferred sex on a bed with lots of, as she called it, the four T's (talking, teasing, and tender touching), how she confessed that she hadn't had an orgasm for 3 years because her partner Rick (she would put a lower case 'p' in front of his name when she referred to him) was just a slam bam bastard man who would hold the back of her head till he came and who refused to ever lick her, and how she took solace in her Jacuzzi. "I don't know what it is about them but whoever I'm with or if I'm alone or even if I'm with pRick, I've never ever been in a Jacuzzi and not felt turned on, even when we are not touching I feel so sexy."

I remember the first time I read that comment about the Jacuzzi; yes I read her answers more than once, I read them till I could memorise them. I would take her magazines away once a fortnight.

"For the office recycling program mom, I put them straight in the shredder and it helps the environment they reckon."

I'd replace them with ones that I'd personally selected for their sex questionnaires.

"They're from the front office mom, the girls there don't want them anymore."

When I first read her comments about that Jacuzzi I couldn't help that the next time I went to her place I took a walk down to her bedroom and through to the en-suite. I just stood in the doorway looking at the Jacuzzi with a thousand visions growing in my head and an erection growing in my pants.

And then Rick the pRick sabotaged the Jacuzzi and she asked me to take a look to see if I knew why it had stopped working.

She asked me on a Friday and I turned up the following Thursday lunchtime. In the days and nights in between, my brain had turned my masturbating hand into every orifice of my mothers' body, but despite all this I couldn't convince myself of any pick-up line that would actually work. I formed a rudimentary plan and decided that although there was no believable end-game to the plan, at the very least I might achieve the basis of few good future jerks.

I arranged for the afternoon off work and turned up in the heat of the day with a bag of tools and a cold bottle of champagne.

"It's in case I get lucky today mom, the champagne is for you. If I get this thing going you'll want a nice cool drink to sip while you're relaxing in the tub."

"Awww but that's so sweet, you're doing all the work, I should be giving you something."

I didn't say it, but I thought it in a thousand different words. "Give me your body and we'll call it even." As I thought it, I took in as much of her body with my eyes as I could; you never know, there may be something in all those body language and thought transfer mumbo jumbos, I knew I'd need at the help I could get.

I kept her with me; talking and chatting, while I worked away. It took me two seconds to confirm her suspicions that pRick really had sabotaged the thing; the stupid prick had removed a safety fuse. I pretended to work away on all sorts of complex fixes for the next half an hour or more, getting her to hold parts in place like she was helping out, my hand holding hers in place.

"Here, hold it like this, gee your hands are nice and warm, that's good that's a nice grip, but don't damage those pretty fingers."

All the while steering the small talk to where I wanted it to go; which was where those quizzes told me she'd want it to go if it was her lover chatting her up.

It was a hot day and we worked up quite a sweat in the confined spaces around some of the plumbing; my own plumbing jealous that her fingers were wrapped around other pipes.

"Alright! Go team! I think we got it. Let's see if we can fill this pretty baby up." I turned on the taps. "Phew, that was hot work, I don't know about you but I could do with a cold drink and dive into this baby right away. Hey, how about we do that? What better way to celebrate the return of bubbles than with a bottle of bubbles? Why don't you put that Champers on ice, get a couple of glasses, and get into your bathers; I'll double check things here and spill in some of that bubble bath on the shelf there. I've already got my bathers on." I pointed down to my shorts.

"Umm, err, no, you go ahead dear, you've been working hard. I might have a tub later tonight, but you get in, you deserve it, and I'll get us a glass of the lovely champagne you got."

"No, c'mon mom, there's plenty of room, it's a big two seater and you've been working just as hard as I have; look you're sweating. Get your bathers on, you'd said you'd give me something for fixing it, so give me the honour of sharing a glass of champagne with you." I said more, regretting the lameness and danger of it as soon as I said it. "I promise to keep my hands to myself under the water."

"YOU'D BETTER" she laughed "I'm your MOTHER."

"Gee I forgot, you look so young for your age (I lied) that I sometimes forget and have to slap my hands to keep off you." Again I regretted moving my lips before my brain could react and slap my mouth shut.

"You're crazy." She smiled.

We have always had a close and best-friends sort of relationship, so I wasn't really straying from any normal banter to be teasing her like this. Except that I knew what I was thinking of this time.

"Go on, I'm not taking no for an answer, bubbles, bathers and both of us. Hurry, this is filling up fast, I'll see you under the suds." I reached for the bottle of bubble-bath. "Go, quick." I ushered her gently out the door.

To my surprise she did come back with the champagne, and in one-piece swimsuit. I gave her a teasing wolf-whistle and quickly said "c'mon, get in, the water is great, and give me that there glass of wine."

She got in, but very tentatively and clearly nervous about the whole thing. I had no idea if she was worried about the concept of bathing with her son (albeit we were clothed), or that she knew she was notoriously horny in a Jacuzzi, or a combination of both, or something completely different, but I knew two things; one, any plan I had of sexing her in here was much less than remote unless her tensions were lowered 500%, and two, the idea that she might be thinking of any of those thoughts was turning me on.

I'd gone overboard with the bubble bath and it was foaming up around our ears, we had to occasionally sweep it aside onto the floor to keep our heads clear. Our laughter at this situation and the throwing of suds balls at one another, got her relaxed and we settled into chatting about things that would make her say "Ah, yes, I agree, that's exactly what I think, I wish there were more men like you."

By the second glass of champagne, I'd moved the talk to flirt on love and relationships. I talked about not having had a girlfriend for a while "I really miss the soft tender touch of hugging if you know what I mean." And then quickly off the subject to joke about the suds in my ears. Sometimes we'd talk about Rick. "If you don't mind my saying mom, I think he's a bit a prick."

"Hah, you're not telling me anything I don't already know, that's what I call him you know, Rick the pRick." Of course I knew it; it's why I said it.

By the start of the third glass of champagne, I'd let the conversation occasionally bump into the territory of sex. No heavy talk and all just fringe stuff, but because I knew so much about what she liked it was easy to keep pushing her buttons to get her to open up and talk freely. She pointed to the small wardrobe across the room beside the mirror.

"I got that because I thought it would make me look good for him, and all pRick said was 'you look like an old slut, why don't you act like one' and he pushed me down on my knees; he didn't even take his pants off, he just held the back of my head until........err...um...I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that...oh my goodness me, oh dear, it must be the champagne, that's too much detail, I'm sorry, err."

"It' ok mom, I understand, he's a disgusting pig; you should dump him."

"I know, don't worry I'm going to, I haven't seen him for over a week and I'm not letting him back."

Another gulp of champagne and she seemed to have quickly drowned any embarrassment she'd caused herself; the conversation quickly got back on track with the odd diversion to gloss over lost loves and missed hugs.

One good thing about so many bubbles, no one can see where your hands are and no one can see you are jerking yourself under the swirling water. Since we'd started that 3rd glass of champagne, my pants were around my knees and I'd been stroking my cock, the entire time imagining mom was fingering herself like she wrote she does in a Jacuzzi. I was imagining she was imagining me stroking myself.

There is something erotic about masturbating right next to someone who doesn't know you are masturbating. Trust me, it becomes extra erotic if that someone is your mom and you've convinced yourself that they too are masturbating at that very moment. It was too much for me; I lay my head back under the foaming suds and came in a gushing orgasm. The last thing I did before going under, was to look mom in the eye and sent a telepathic message. "I'm going to cum right now mom, why don't you cum too."

When the head on my shoulders came back up and the one on my cock started going back down, I realised I wasn't going to fuck mom in the Jacuzzi as planned. But I didn't want to give up completely on the opportunities the day was offering and I looked around hoping for inspiration for a new plan. My eye caught the wardrobe she'd pointed to.

With my pants pulled back up and my cock pointing back down, I stood up.

"Ok, you spread your legs out and relax and enjoy the rest of your champers, I'm getting out."

I took a towel off the rack and began drying myself. I looked at mom and saw she had her eyes closed, already off in a world of her own dreams. I opened the wardrobe and saw two things, a bath robe and some lacy black lingerie. I took my pants off, squeezed the excess water into the sink.

"I didn't bring a change of clothes, can I wear this until these quick-dry shorts dry off?"

She opened her eyes and looked up to see what I was asking about.

"Oh my" see said.

Towel in hand, wardrobe door open, facing her slightly, I was naked, my limp but partly swollen cock hanging in full view.

She had turned her head away before finishing those two short words and then mumbled "Yes, yes, of course dear, um, yes, of course, sorry, um, just, um, naked, you, um sorry, hadn't expected it."

"Sorry I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to embarrass you, forgive me?"

And I said a few other things because she had turned away too quickly for my fantasies and I wanted her to look again. I wanted mom to look to see I had a bigger than average cock; ok I admit it, a measly half an inch bigger than the community accepted average of six inches, but at least no worse than average. I knew that Ricks cock was tiny, she'd variously described it as either 1 or 2, and at the most generous she'd ever got, 3 inches long. She even wrote a ditty about in the margins of one magazine with a survey on 'does size matter to you' (she'd ticked the box for 'No' but the ditty suggested there was some 'Yes' in her mind).

Rick the pRick
Has a one inch dick.
Rick the pRick
Has a pin-prick dick.

And she did look at me naked again; briefly; to say it was ok and that it was silly of her to be embarrassed and that no harm was done. Her eyes had not been on me much longer than the first time before she turned away again, but it was long enough for me to convince myself that she had taken that briefest of extra time to take in the vision of my cock.

I'd give Rick the prick
The big arse kick
For a long thick dick
On a Johnny Jimmy or Mick

I don't know who Johnny or Jimmy is, but I know my mother christened me Michael.

Mom's brief look at my cock was all I needed, in an instant I'd formulated the next fantasy I'd be jerking off to - instead of turning away she'd say "Mmmmmm you have a beautiful cock." And then invite me over for a closer look. I saw mom taking me in her mouth to suck my soft cock hard, my hand reaching down into the water to find her hand working furiously between her legs. Mom looked up into my eyes as she sucked my cock deep and hard, her hand guiding my fingers into her pussy, taking her mouth off my cock to say "Aaaaahhhhhh."

At the first feel of my fingers in her cunt she' say "You can fuck me later but right now I want more of the taste of this." Holding the base of my cock in her other hand, licking up and down my shaft. My mother was making love to my cock with her tongue, her hands now cupping and fondling my balls, taking one into her mouth, gently rolling it around on her tongue. "I want you to cum in my mouth" mom said and plunged deep over my cock, sucking hard and fast. Mom never losing her rhythm as I came in her mouth; sucking, licking and swallowing every drop of my cum.