| Dutiful Son
by J ©
Inspired by Andy
It came as a big shock to both Mum and I when Dad died suddenly of cancer two years ago. He was only thirty eight years old, and had never had a day sick in his life. He and Mum had been childhood sweethearts and it devastated her so much that she grieved for over eighteen months. During that time, as Dad had made me swear on his deathbed, I became the man of the house. I saw to it that food was put on the table, that our clothes were clean, that the house was always tidy, and that Mum didn't drink too much. Fortunately, Dad had left us financially secure, and so I didn't have to leave school to get a job. But, nevertheless, cramming for exams and running the house was no easy task.
But then, about six months ago, something changed; I got myself a girlfriend. Laurie was a bright, pretty girl with long blond hair and an awesome body. I creamed every time I saw her, and longed for the day when she would finally let me get to her cherry and put an end to the state of virginity for both of us. But Laurie was a bit of a prick teaser too. Even though we had been seeing each other three or four evenings a week, after the first two months I still hadn't had much more than a fleeting touch of her tits. With her coy smile and flimsy, sexy clothes, she always promised more than she gave. As you can imagine, this made me just a little angry and frustrated at times, resulting in a lot of hand work when I got home and safely under the sheets.
Laurie and I had been dating for about three months when I first detected a change in Mum as well. At first, she hardly seemed to notice my absence during those evenings that I was out with Laurie, and could barely raise a greeting when I came home. But suddenly, Mum's mood changed. Before I'd go to meet Laurie, she would make some very sarcastic remarks about my choice of girlfriend and complained that the promise that I'd made to Dad about being the dutiful son was looking to be broken. After a while, I got sick of Mum's nastiness and suggested that her grieving over Dad should come to an end. It was about time she started to look to the future and not the past. The first time I said this, Mum came up close to me, with an angry look in her eyes, and slapped me hard across my face with the palm of her right hand. The blow stung my cheek and I felt my blood boil, but I reminded myself that this was my own Mother and I managed to stop myself from striking her back.
Something I'd said that day must have registered in Mum's mind though, because from the next day onwards, she began to come out of her gloomy shell. It began in small ways. She got a sense of pride back in the appearance of the house, and I found that I was having to do fewer chores. I then became used to having dinner ready for me when I came home from school. This, of course, gave me more free time in which to meet up with Laurie. Mum would look at me as I was about to leave for the evening 'with that girl again', and suggest that I should stay home with her more than I did. Eventually, I laid it on the table for Mum, and explained that I had reached that age where a steady girlfriend is an important thing in a guy's life, and that her son was growing up.
From that point on, about three months ago, Mum's changing ways became more and more pronounced. I came home from school one afternoon and had to look twice at her to see what was different. Of course, that was it, Mum was wearing make-up and had obviously been to the hairdressers and was now sporting a short, black bob. She was only thirty nine years old, but the way she had been looking since Dad had died you would have thought she was in her mid fifties. But now, with this chic new look, she appeared even younger than she was. I gave her a wolf whistle and told her how terrific she looked. Mum blushed and smiled and I could tell she was pleased at my reaction. It was only when I told her not to cook any dinner for me because I was going out with Laurie that her face, once again, turned to thunder.
'Her again!', Mum exclaimed. 'You're always out with that girl. I suppose it's because she's pretty and cute and sexy, isn't she?', Mum shouted at me furiously.
I became angry and said that Laurie was all of those things and definitely better company than she was being at the moment. Mum's anger just grew and grew. She shouted that 'that girl' was probably also prettier than she was, more intelligent, more fun. In my own frustration at another row developing, I shouted back at Mum that she was right in everything she had just said. To my complete surprise, Mum went very quiet and then looked at me with an expression I had never seen before and said:
'Does she also have nicer legs than me, honey?'.
'I don't know', I replied, with genuine anger, 'I've never seen your legs completely'.
Mum began to smile. It was a wicked, naughty smile that was beginning to make me a little excited.
'Would you like to see all of my legs then, just for comparison reasons?', Mum asked me. I was now very intrigued and also having feelings that felt wrong and strange, but nevertheless, I asked Mum what she meant.
'Well, I thought that if you were to stay home with me tonight, instead of going out with that girl, I could put on a short skirt and wear it around the house so that you could get a good look at my legs, and then decide if they are better than hers'.
I was starting to get hot under the collar at the thought of what Mum had just offered me. It was wrong, I know, but she was a very attractive woman, and I was a hot blooded male, even though I was her son. So, with a wavering voice, I heard myself say:
'How short would the skirt be?'
With a question like that, Mum knew that she had me around her little finger.
'Why don't you come upstairs to my wardrobe, pick out a skirt that you would like to see me wearing, and I'll hem it up as short as I possibly can', Mum offered.
I thought about it for about a minute or so, but we both knew what the answer would be. I mean, given the chance, who would turn down an opportunity to see a beautiful woman walking around in a micro skirt, even if it was your own mother. I looked at Mum and nodded, but I told her it would be for just this one occasion though. Mum smiled triumphantly, and told me that I must first of all get on the phone to cancel my date with Laurie. We only have one phone in the house, in the hall at the bottom of the stairs, and Mum stood close by whilst I offered my excuses to a disappointed girlfriend.
'Good. That wasn't too hard, was it honey?', Mum said rhetorically. Then she took hold of my hand and led me up the stairs and into her bedroom. Mum flung the doors to her wardrobe wide open and invited me to pick the skirt that I'd like her to wear. Although she hadn't bought any new clothes since Dad had died, there were still about a dozen or more skirts for me to choose from. In the end, I thought to myself, do I want to see Mum in a short tight skirt or a short flirty skirt. I love the way tight skirts crease around the hips from the repeated action of bending or sitting. And of course, tight skirts do have a tendency to ride up even higher when the wearer is seated. But a flirty skirt will move as the woman walks, and offers greater opportunities for upskirt views of panties and stocking tops. In the end I decided upon the latter. I picked out a free flowing white skirt with a black pattern that made it look like cowhide. It was a long skirt, well past the knees, but Mum had said she was willing to hem up any skirt as short as possible. So I picked it up off the rail and handed it to her.
Mum smiled at me and threw the skirt onto the bed. Then she asked me what type of shoes I'd like her to wear. Did I want to see her in flat loafers, knee length boots, bare feet, sling backs, high heel sandals or stilettos. When I told her that they had to be high, Mum gave me a wink and said that they were Dad's favourite too. So, from her shoe rack, I pointed out a pair of white pumps that must have had about a five inch heel, and also fastened with a wide strap around the ankle. Mum took them out of the rack and said that I'd made a very good choice. Then she looked at me seriously and said:
'Now, honey, I know that you'd probably like to see me wearing stockings with this outfit, wouldn't you?'
I nodded agreement, silently.
'Well', Mum continued, 'I'm afraid I haven't bought any nylons for a long time, and the ones I have left all have runs in them. Would you be terribly upset if I were to leave my legs bare, but with a thin coating of baby oil all over them to make them shine?'
'That's fine by me, Mum', I replied with a lump in my throat. By now, with this matter-of-fact way of speaking that Mum had adopted, I had become very aroused.
'That's a good boy. I promise I'll wear some stockings for you in the future.' Mum said apologetically.
Then, pushing me out of her room, she told me to wait downstairs while she got ready.
I went back into the living room to wait for Mum's return. It gave me time to think about what was happening. This was crazy, I thought. I had kidded myself into believing that this was some sort of comparison test that Mum had devised so that I could judge her against Laurie. Yet here I was, waiting for my own mother to come into the room, with the deliberate intention of turning me on by flaunting herself in a short skirt and high heels, that I, myself, had picked out. The truth of it was that Mum was trying to seduce me, and judging from the hardening inside my pants, I was enjoying it.
The smart thing to do I thought, as the sound of Mum's sewing machine drifted down from her room, would be to get out of there now before things got out of control. But, I'd been going out with Laurie for a few months now and she hadn't even given me a hand job yet. I was more frustrated each time I left her. What if something were to come of Mum and me? Surely it would be natural. A frustrated teenager and a sex starved middle aged woman living together in the same house had to develop into something. And, let's face it, neither Mum nor I would be about to tell anyone else.
In fact, we would be doing each other a favour. Mum's experience could teach me the things that I would only get from sleeping around with many other girls, and all the risks that are attached. Whilst I could give Mum a good boner whenever she was hungry for it, without her having to trawl bars and clubs looking for decent men.
What was I thinking? I must be nuts. Fantasy Island is where thoughts like those belong. Keep them inside your head, I told myself. But my hard resolve began to melt again as I heard Mum's bedroom door open upstairs followed by her footsteps approaching the living room. I thought it was better to stay seated, as by now my prick was almost at full size and making a huge lump in my jeans. Play it cool, I thought to myself. Just wait till Mum says something and then play it with all the nonchalance that I can muster.
I was pretending to read a paper, but kept one furtive eye on the door. Suddenly, it slowly started to open. I tried to keep on reading as planned, but then I saw Mum's left foot appear, encased inside that white high heeled shoe, and the paper just fell away from my hands. The height of the heel had made the shape of her arch almost vertical, and as her calf came into view I could see how taut Mum's muscles were.
All at once she was standing there in front of me, posing with her weight on one leg and left foot turned slightly outwards.
Slowly, I ran my eyes from her feet upwards. I had never expected Mum's legs to be so good; I mean she was nearly forty years old. They were slim, but not bony, and glistened with the baby oil that she had applied, and I so badly wanted to touch them. In her heels, Mum stood about five nine, so her thighs, as you can imagine, were nice and long. I hardly recognised the skirt that I had picked out earlier. Mum had shortened it to a belt! What there was of it flared out from her waist and hung in light folds around the very tops of her thighs. If Mum had been wearing stockings, then the flesh at the top would certainly have been visible.
My eyes must have been popping out of my head when Mum asked me what I thought of her pins.
'Mum, you've got the best legs I've ever seen in my life', I said honestly.
'Even nicer that Laurie's?' she teased.
'Better than anyone's, even the models and movie stars.' I replied.
'Thank you, honey', Mum began with that matter-of-fact tone in her voice again.
'I'll wear this skirt around the house all night, so don't be afraid or embarrassed to look at my legs whenever you want to. Now I'll just go and make us some dinner.'
My eyes followed Mum's legs on her walk into the kitchen. The ruffles in her skirt were so light that they moved easily and freely as her hips swayed to and fro, every now and then exposing Mum's white knickers as the hem lifted up. The light caught the sheen on her skin and I wondered what it would have been like to rub the oil on for her.
I followed Mum out into the kitchen and brazenly asked if I could watch her while she prepared dinner. Mum smiled that same wicked smile that I had seen for the first time a little earlier and told me to be her guest. Whilst cooking, she made every effort to give me a good show. At one point she stood on a stool and balanced on one leg to reach into a high cupboard for an ingredient that wasn't there. Then she thought that it might be in a bottom drawer and, in an effort to find it, bent over from the waist giving me the clearest possible upskirt shot of her slim, white panties. Then, standing at the sink to prepare some vegetables, Mum alternated between rubbing her thighs together and kicking a leg behind her to balance on one of those gorgeous white high heels.
Mum knew exactly what she was doing to me, and as I had paid the price for this show by cancelling my date with Laurie, I figured that I was owed a lasting momento. So, without any shame, I asked Mum if I could get my digital camera and take some photos of her legs.
'Well, I know that you're almost a man now,' Mum began, 'and I know why you want pictures of me in this short skirt. So, providing it remains our little secret, you go ahead and flash away.'
For the rest of that evening, I must have downloaded about sixty shots of Mum's legs onto my hard drive. She was very obliging in her poses, and was more than willing to cross her legs at my instruction, or bend over, act coy or sexy or anything else that would make me happy.
By ten o'clock I could stand no more and realised that I had to go upstairs for some relief. As I said goodnight to Mum, she looked down at the bulge in my pants and, with that wicked smile on her face again, told me not to stay up all night on my computer. I went very red in the face and quickly went to my room. By the time I went to sleep that night, I had pulled myself off about three times looking at various pictures of Mum's beautiful long legs.
Next day I was out before Mum got up. When I arrived home after school, Mum shouted down from the top of the stairs that dinner would be ready shortly and for me to wait for her in the kitchen. I shouted up that I didn't want too much as I had a date with Laurie in about an hour.
I took a seat at the breakfast bar and helped myself to some milk and cookies. I heard Mum enter the kitchen behind me and turned around to say hello. Man, I almost choked when I saw her. Mum was wearing a tight white T-shirt, a pair of red hotpants and some black patent, high heel pumps. My jaw dropped open as my eyes followed her walking to the refrigerator. From behind I could see that her hotpants were very, very hot. They were cut so tight, that her butt cheeks were hardly contained by the material. And of course, combined with her stilettos, the shortness of them only made her legs look longer.
Mum took a bottle of beer out of the fridge and climbed onto the high stool on my right. I stared without shame, as she slowly crossed her right leg over her left in such a way that her right shoe now dangled in between my own legs and gently rubbed against them. Mum slammed the bottle down on the bar to focus my attention on it and away from her legs. Slowly, her right thumb and forefinger gripped the base of the bottle. I sat mesmerised as her long, red fingernails moved up the shaft to the neck. Then, Mum began to gently move her hand up and down the slim beer bottle, stroking it, caressing it tenderly. I watched as she played her thumb around the opening, every so often allowing a fingernail to gently slip inside. Mum's hand was wet now from the condensation on the outside of the bottle, and I grew even harder as she brought her hand up to her lips and stuck out her tongue to sensuously lick her fingers dry. Then Mum covered the top of the bottle with her thumb and gave it a couple of shakes. As she let the air out, a gush of beer came with it. Mum quickly brought the bottle up to her mouth and took a drink. Her eyes never left mine as some of the froth escaped her lips and ran down her chin and onto her T-shirt. She looked down as the beer stained the material and gave me that smile again. Then, Mum brought a long, slender finger up to her face and teased the drops of beer from around her chin and into her mouth.
I was breathing very hard now and Mum could tell. I almost came when she put her hand on my knee and huskily said:
'Is there anything at all I can do to make you stay in tonight, honey?'
I told mum that I had cancelled last night's date with Laurie and that she wouldn't be too pleased if I did the same tonight.
Mum asked me if I liked the hotpants she was almost wearing. I said that I liked looking at her very much. She said that she had found the them at the back of a drawer that afternoon and that she thought I might like to take some photos of her wearing them to go with the ones of her in the micro skirt. Then she took her hand from my leg and started to fondle the beer bottle again. When she knew my attention was on her actions, she coyly said:
'Then, at the end of the night, honey, I thought it might be nice if I kind of helped you to relax, if you know what I mean. It would be my way of thanking you for being the man of the house since your Dad died'.
Mum's hand had made it very clear what she meant by the phrase 'helping me to relax'. I must admit that I was very excited at the prospect of a woman's hand around my cock for the first time. I mean, it wasn't as though there was much chance of Laurie giving me a wank; she hadn't shown much interest so far. But the thought of taking that first step with Mum made me feel a little uneasy and I told her so. Mum simply said that if that was the case, I could just close my eyes and pretend it was Laurie. She could see that my resistance was wavering and to help me decide, Mum began to stroke the inside of my right calf with her dangling high heel. I let my gaze fall once again to Mum's long limbs. They were glistening again with a layer of baby oil. I longed to put my hand in the gap that was between where her right leg crossed her left and run it all the way up to the crotch of her ultra tight hotpants. But instead, I contented myself with gripping her calf to stop her rubbing me. Her skin was slippery and soft and smooth, and Mum gave a slight gasp at my sudden touch. I let my hand linger on her leg for a few delicious seconds, before pushing her to one side to allow me to stand up.
As I walked to the hall, I felt Mum's gaze upon me. She was still unsure as to what I would do. When I got to the front door I turned around and looked at her, still perched cross legged on the high breakfast stool. I put my hand on the front door handle, ready to open it. Mum got off the stool and started to walk towards me, slowly and sexily, placing one patent high heel in front of the other. I looked down at the bulge in my groin. It was already throbbing so bad that it almost hurt. I knew there was only one thing I could do. I let go of the door and took the two paces to the telephone. I dialled Laurie's number and she picked up.
'Hi Laurie,' I began, really tentatively, sensing Mum standing close behind me. 'I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight. Something's just come up with Mum'.
She put the phone down on me abruptly, but not unexpectedly. I consoled myself that I had at least told her the truth. I turned around to look at Mum who was now sporting her familiar wicked smile.
'Go and get your camera, honey. Let's the two of us have a nice night in'.
By ten o'clock that evening I had taken about another thirty shots of Mum in her hotpants and high heels, and my dick was quivering in anticipation of Mum's hand.
The sun had gone down a while ago, and the living room was in darkness when I returned from taking my camera back upstairs. From her seat on the couch, Mum whispered for me to come sit next to her. My heart was beating twenty to the dozen and my mouth was desert dry as I slowly took my place by Mum's side. I jumped as I felt her hand fall onto my thigh. This was it, I thought. This was where incest begins.
As Mum's hand gently moved higher up my leg, she softly said:
'You just sit back and relax, honey. Let your Mum show you how grateful she is for having a good son like you'.
My entire attention was focused on Mum's wandering hand as it approached my groin. Her fingers traced gentle circles as they got nearer to my pulsating prick. She teased me with the closeness of her proximity to my manhood. And then, when I thought I could bear it no longer, Mum's hand at last touched me where I longed to be touched by a woman. I gasped the way you do when you suddenly jump into a cold river or sea. I heard Mum sigh as well; it had been along time for her too. Massaging my prick for a while through my jeans, Mum finally whispered to me:
'Let's let this fellow out, shall we?'
Mum sat up a little and slowly brought both of her hands up to my belt buckle. I couldn't see much because of the darkness of the room. In some ways I was glad, because I still felt bad about letting Mum do this to me, but on the other hand, I was desperate to see my weapon being fondled and manipulated by her.
With my belt now undone, Mum moved to my jeans' button and then the zip. I was breathing very hard as she struggled to move the zipper down over my growing bulge.
But at last, it was undone and I lifted my hips, at Mum's command, to allow her to pull both my jeans and shorts down to mid thigh. My meat sprung to vertical as the air touched it and my breathing became even more pronounced.
Mum's right hand once again moved slowly up my now naked legs towards my groin. She was less teasing this time though, heading in a straight line and not circles as before. And then, oh man, then..... then......, Mum's hand was cupping my balls. As she squeezed my hairy gonads tightly in her fingers Mum remarked:
'OOOOHhhhhh', honey, they're full tonight. I think you're going to be giving your Mum a really good spraying with all that you've got in there.'
Then I felt her thumb and forefinger around the base of my prick. I remembered how long and red her nails were as she had played with the bottle earlier, and I tried to imagine them around my shaft now. Eventually, a second finger joined the first, then a third and at last, Mum's whole fist was on my prick. My head fell back and lolled from side to side as she began to move her hand up and down my rod. Moving higher up, Mum gently pulled back the foreskin to expose my hard, smooth and very moist bell end. I groaned with delight as she allowed the flat palm of her hand to rub at the very tip of my penis, and almost died of exctasy as she inserted the tip of her little finger nail into my slit. Mum teased me like this just long enough before she started to pull at me furiously; she was a real expert at this. As my stomach muscles quivered to control my growing desire to explode, Mum's hand moved like a demon's up and down the length of my shaft.
'Wowwwwww, honey, you're so big and hard', she began, whispering close to my ear, 'you're really going to enjoy letting your Mum have all of your lovely white spunk'.
That did it. Mum talking to me like that finally got my juices to the point where I couldn't hold on any longer. Mum realised this too, and speeded up her hand action whilst continuing to encourage me with dirty remarks. At last, with a roar of delight, I creamed all over Mum's hand and my groin. It must have spurted out like a whale's spout, and seemed to flow longer than it had ever done when I had masturbated.
Mum's hand squeezed and shook every last drop of cum out of me. As I lay there recovering, I became aware for the first time that Mum's breathing had also been laboured. My prick twitched with after shocks as it went limp in Mum's hand.
She then lifted my shirt slightly, and began to rub my semen into my belly.
'Did you enjoy that, honey?' she asked.
'Mum, that was fantastic', I replied honestly. 'But we must never do it again. You said it was your way of thanking me for being the man about the house since Dad died. Well, that was the best thanks a mum ever gave to a son, but to go on wouldn't be right'.
Mum got up silently and went to the light switch by the door. The sudden illumination startled me. When I looked down to see my trousers halfway down my legs, my shirt pulled up around my waist, and my tummy glistening with sweat and semen, it dawned upon me what a great sex life I had just ended. I turned around to Mum who was still standing by the door. She was licking my cum, her own son's love juice, from her slender fingers.
'Whatever you say, honey', she said grinning. 'Goodnight'.
I had a great sleep that night, but when I woke up early next morning I was filled with shame and disgust at what Mum and I had done. I couldn't face her just yet so I left for school before she got up. By the time I walked through the front door that evening though, my feelings had changed from disgust to anger. I was angry at Mum for selling me the line about being the man of the house, and angry with myself for buying it. Never again, I vowed, would I let her touch me like she had the night before.
To my absolute amazement, Mum greeted me like it was normal to say hello to a son you had pulled off the night before, and asked if I was up for similar tonight. She was wearing her bathrobe and looked as though she had just come out of the shower. I told her what I had decided. Mum looked hurt. She stayed silent for a moment before finally speaking.
'Honey, I thought you enjoyed what we did last night. I even went out today and bought some sheer black seamed stockings that you said you liked. I thought that if you could tell that girl that you didn't want to see her anymore, we could get even closer and I could be all the woman you ever wanted'.
I told Mum that I had changed my opinion of what we had done and that it had been wrong. It was more healthy for me to learn those things from a proper girlfriend, and that I would be phoning Laurie up in about half an hour to see if I could take her out.
Mum looked at me with rage in her eyes and stormed past me and up to her bedroom.
I felt much better now that I had gotten all that off my chest, and after a quick bite to eat and shower, I went to the phone in the hall to see if Laurie would accept my humble pie. Laurie's dad answered and started to give me a bit of a hard time about me letting his daughter down twice. As I listened to him go on, saying nothing myself, I became aware of movement at the top of the stairs behind me. As Laurie's dad finished ranting, stating that he would call her in from the back garden to come talk to me, I slowly turned around.
Mum was standing on the wide part of the stairs where they turned left onto the first floor landing. My jaw dropped open when I saw her. She had put on full make up, which included a deep crimson lip gloss, and was wearing a short, black satin robe. She twirled around on a pair of high heeled black ankle strap sandals, and I could see that she had on the seamed stockings she had mentioned earlier. At that moment, Laurie came to the phone and said a quiet hello. She had to ask if I was still there because I was too awe struck to speak. Mum had turned back to face me and was now undoing the belt that held her flimsy robe together. As she let it fall to the floor, she revealed herself to be wearing a black bra, matching high cut thongs and a garter belt. Man, she looked fantastic, and I just couldn't look away from her.
I finally realised that Laurie was speaking to me and found the words to respond. As I did so, I saw Mum's hands go behind her back. I could tell she was undoing the clasp of her bra. As Laurie prompted me to speak, and I responded with a vague apology for the previous night, Mum let the bra fall from her breasts and drop to the floor. Her two gorgeous melons swung in mid-air, defying gravity. The large dark circles around her nipples were the size of saucers. As Mum cupped her tits and brought one up to her lips, I knew what I had to do.
'Hi, Laurie', I began, hesitantly. 'I'm sorry about last night, but the thing is, I've found someone else'.
I looked at Mum's face. That wicked grin had appeared on it again as she turned away and walked to her bedroom. I didn't have to say anymore to Laurie; she had hung up on me.
Forgetting all of my previous guilt, I ran up the stairs, hot and randy, and into Mum's bedroom. She stood triumphantly at the side of her big, double bed and smiled at me.
As I walked over to her with my arms ready to grab her shoulders, she motioned for me to stop. She picked something off the bed that I hadn't noticed when I came into the room and handed it to me. When it was in my hands I looked down at it. It was a leather whip. It had a wooden handle about a foot long with about six or eight, three feet long thin leather lashes coming out of the end. I looked at Mum questioningly. Her eyes were wild and she was biting eagerly at her bottom lip as I asked her what this was for. Mum answered with just one word:
I told her that I couldn't do it. I couldn't hurt her.
'Your Dad liked to do it to me', she began. 'I'm sure you'd be just as good as he was.'
I shook my head and threw the instrument of torture onto the bed. I never saw Mum's hand until it had already slapped my face. I put a hand to my cheek to stop it hurting.
As soon as I took my hand away, Mum slapped me again, but harder this time.
'Don't do that to me, Mum', I ordered, loudly.
I thought that that would do the trick, but I was even too slow to avoid Mum's third, and hardest, slap to my cheek. The stinging pain made the red mist come down over my eyes and, without thinking, I let the back my right hand lash across Mum's right cheek, sending her crashing onto the bed. As she turned to face me, the red evidence of my hand obvious on her face, she gave me the whip again, and with the stare of a wild, mad animal she hissed:
'Take it. Beat me. Beat me hard. Give me the strap now while you're angry'.
I felt violent anyway, so I took the whip away from her and she turned face down on the bed. I let Mum have it right across the back of her nylon covered thighs. She winced as the crack of the leather lashed at her legs. I brought it down again three more times before her stockings started to ladder. I knew now why she had told me the other night that all of them had runs. Mum begged for more, and I now had a lust for hurting her. After half a dozen more lashes, Mum's right hand disappeared into the front of her panties and she started to frigg herself.
After a minute or so, I heard Mum tell me to take her thongs off and whip her butt cheeks. I pulled them roughly down her legs, over one of her shoes, leaving them dangling on one of her high heels. Mum continued rubbing her pussy whilst I brought the lash down on her ass. The redness showed immediately. And the more it hurt her, the more I wanted to do it.
We were both in a frenzy of lust. After about four minutes, Mum started to groan with pleasure as a wave of climax shot through her convulsing body. As she settled down from this ecstasy, I heard her telling me to stop. But I couldn't. I just wanted to keep on beating her until I came myself. It was only her kicking at me that brought me to my senses.
I stood above Mum, breathing heavily, hands at my side still holding onto the whip. Mum's ass was red raw and she asked me to rub some baby oil onto it. I took the bottle from the dresser and poured heaps of it onto her cheeks. As I massaged it into her skin, the slipperiness of it made me realise that I still had a raging hardon. The sight of Mum in this position, helpless, fucked, and available was a real turn on. I couldn't get my dick out fast enough. I pulled Mum to the edge of the bed by her high heels, lifted her ass into the air, slapped my dick around her cheeks to oil it up, and threw it right up her pussy. Mum gasped as the first meat she had had since Dad died pressed against her womb. My fast thrusting and noisy slapping brought Mum to another quick climax, and my grunting told her that I wasn't too far from cumming into her myself. Then, all at once, I could feel the sap start to rise. I gripped at Mum's ass with clenched fists as I exploded my load into her warm, inviting pussy.
When I had completely emptied myself into her, I collapsed onto her back.
'Honey, you were awesome', Mum began. 'That was the best session I've ever had. You really are the man of the house now, and I'll do anything you demand as long as you keep on doing that to me.'
All of my guilt had gone now. It was replaced by lust and desire. I had someone here who looked great, acted like a tramp and would do anything for her dutiful son.
'Well', I began, 'You were pretty good yourself, Mum. I really enjoyed hurting you with that whip. But you know what would be even more fun, I'd like to sit and watch as another man beat up on you'.
Mum smiled that wicked grin again.
'You catch on pretty quick, honey. Anyone in mind?'
'As a matter of fact, my sexy little mother, I know just the man.'
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