A Makeover for My Old Mum Ch. 01

'Probably not on a second date,' I began.

'Well,' she smiled at me, 'we'll just have to make up for it when we get back.'

This statement set the tone of the evening out, because Elizabeth flirted with me throughout the entire meal, which was in a fashionable bistro in the city centre. I hardly noticed the food, though I drank a bit too much to calm the butterflies that rose in flocks every time she reached out and put one of her peerless hands with perfect carmine nails on my arm or took one of my hands in hers. At one point she put one of her stockinged knees against mine under the table and left it there for long minutes. It goes without saying that my cock was rigid for almost the entire meal. And what the other diners thought of this elderly lady who was all over her younger dining partner I don't like to think. Fortunately we don't look especially similar!

I didn't prolong the meal, being glad to get out of the public view and into her car. Then we were back at my flat with Elizabeth following me into the lobby, although I hadn't specifically invited her in. This seemed to occur to her too.

'Oh, I suppose it's alright me coming up for coffee, Jack?' she said as the lift doors opened.

'Of course,' I replied. 'I was hoping you would.' I didn't mention that I was hoping she wouldn't in almost equal measure. But now the lift door was shutting and we were together and alone in the little metal box. Elizabeth didn't waste any time, she put her arm around me and her face up close.

'Thank you, Jack. I've had such a lovely evening.'

She was wearing scent, another first, and her grey eyes were shining with excitement. Despite the dichotomy of my feelings, desire and fear, I couldn't spoil her evening by rebuffing her, so I kissed my mother again. And when the lift stopped and we went into my flat, I kissed her again. Long, intense kissing that, in any other circumstance, could only lead to one thing.

'Would you like a coffee, Elizabeth? Or a glass of wine? I know you're driving...' My voice was husky, it didn't sound like me.

'A glass of wine would be lovely, Jack. I didn't have one with the meal so I should be alright with one. Besides,' she looked at me coyly, 'I can always leave the car here and get a taxi home.'

We took our jackets off -- it was very warm in the flat -- and I opened the bottle of wine and poured us each a glass and we sat on the settee facing the big window with its view out over the night-time city. I'd had a bottle of white wine with the meal so my emotional barriers were down, which was dangerous, as I was feeling horny as hell. So I took her thick-framed glasses off, took her in my arms and continued to kiss her and she responded wonderfully, her soft, full lips opening against mine her teeth against my tongue, hands roaming across my back, pressing me into her. This wasn't some game where I was teaching my naïve mother the elements of kissing. This was pure and unbridled passion by two adults who had a good idea where they wanted the evening to lead to. Eventually we broke apart, to get some air as much as anything. Mum's face was flushed and her lipstick, which she'd repaired after the meal, was smeared.

'What now?' she asked in a sort of gasping voice.

I looked at her questioningly. 'What do you mean?' Although I knew perfectly well.

'If we're on a second date, and the evening's gone really well, and I've come back to your flat and we've kissed like this... What's the protocol? What happens now?' She said all this in a sort of gasping whisper, looking down into her lap.

It was obvious now that Elizabeth wanted to take things further, maybe as far as they could go. I'd like to say that I still had reservations, but the truth is that I was a bit drunk and very aroused and I was doing a good job of separating the Elizabeth persona from my mother. So I think that was the point where we crossed the line. Because you can just about explain away French kissing your mum, but anything beyond that is incest, right?

'I think,' I said slowly and carefully, 'that the next step is that we start to explore each other a little bit with our hands.'

'You mean like touching my breasts,' she whispered.

I didn't reply, instead I kissed her again and as she responded, I cupped her left breast in my right hand and squeezed it gently, running my fingers over where her nipple would be and feeling it beneath her blouse, through the bra. I'd always thought she was flat chested, but she wasn't, completely, she had small, hard breasts. She broke the kiss and put her head back, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

'Oh, Jack. I'm so excited.'

So was I. I couldn't ever recall being so aroused. So I began to unbutton her blouse and she made no move to stop me, kept her arms around me, her fingers digging into the flesh of my back. After four buttons I parted her blouse to reveal a lacy black bra with, I barely registered this new revelation, a front fastening. I didn't say anything, didn't ask her permission, which as her "date" I probably wouldn't have done, but as her son, probably should have done. She'd opened her eyes now and was looking down at my hands as I unfastened the clip and exposed her breasts.

'I'm sorry they're so small.'

I smiled gently at her. 'They're beautiful.' And they were. Small, shallow but perfectly formed and pertly upturned with rosy, crinkled areolae and hard little button nipples, pink and standing out. I lowered my head, slowly, giving her plenty of time to push me away. I went to her left nipple first, licking it and sucking it into my mouth. I felt, rather than heard, Elizabeth groan and she put her hands round the back of my head, keeping me in place to pleasure her. Her nipple was firm and juicy and I couldn't resist giving it a little nibble. Mum arched her back as I did this and gave a little cry.

'Did I hurt you?'

'No -- I liked it.'

I moved to her right nipple and repeated the process, including the gentle biting. She groaned again and I went back to kissing her, gently rolling her nipple between my finger and thumb as we mashed our lips together. Then back to sucking her nipples, then kissing again. I could sense she was extremely aroused. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she was giving out an almost constant low moan, even while we were kissing.

I knew I wanted my mother now. Wanted everything. I was sure she wanted the same, but I had to be sure. Breaking the kiss, I held her head in my hands and looked into her eyes.

'Elizabeth, if we don't stop now, we'll pass the point of no return.' I paused, still looking at her. 'Is that what you want?'

'Oh God, yes,' she whispered.

I didn't reply but stood and held out my hand to her. She stood too and I led her, unresisting, to my bedroom. The curtains were open, throwing muted city light into the room. We stood by the window, looking out, seeing but unseen. We kissed again and I undid the rest of the buttons on her blouse, then slipped it from her shoulders, taking the bra with it. She stood in front of me naked from the waist up. Slender, thin really, narrow shouldered and with those pert little breasts. I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off, matching her semi-nakedness. She stepped towards me and touched a finger to my chest, then ran a hand through the hair, tracing a finger down to my navel. We came together again, this time flesh to flesh. The kissing started slowly but became passionate, rough even. She started fumbling at my waist, trying to undo my belt and I stayed her hands, stepping back from her, taking off first one shoe and sock, then the next, then slipping off my trousers and throwing them on a chair, standing in front of her with nothing but a pair of Y-fronts on. My erection was very evident, and uncomfortable, tenting the front of my underpants. Elizabeth stared at it then back at me, saying nothing.

Still looking at me, she reached round to the small of her back and unfastened her pencil skirt, unzipping it and letting it fall with a rustle of nylon lining against her seamed stockings. She stepped out of the skirt, still wearing her high heels. Under the skirt she was wearing silk French knickers, black with lacy edges. The combination of this, together with her wonderful stockinged legs and garter belt almost made me orgasm on the spot. I could feel the sticky liquid oozing from the end of my cock into the fabric of my underpants. We came together and kissed again, for long minutes, while I stroked her buttocks through the French knickers and pulled her into my groin, my erection grinding against her gusset.

Breaking the kiss, I knelt before her and gently and slowly pulled her knickers down. As her sex was revealed I saw that she was clean shaven and ripples of excitement ran through me. I'd never made love with a lady who shaved their pussy. The knickers came down to her ankles and she stepped out of them. I ran my hands slowly down her legs, feeling the stocking seam at the back.

'Sit down on the bed,' I said, quietly. She stepped back and sat down. Still kneeling in front of her I took one of her slim, stockinged ankles in each hand and lifted her legs, forcing her to lay back on the bed and exposing her vagina, labia puffed and shiny with juices, slightly open with expectation. I placed my hands on the backs of her thighs and eased her legs further back so her feet pointed at the ceiling. It wasn't a particularly dignified position for Elizabeth but we were way past dignified, now. I could hear her breathing, shallow and ragged, her hands clenching the quilt cover. I was excited beyond measure. I'd never been so turned on. With my hands still on her stockinged thighs I lowered my head and feasted on her: I flicked my tongue up and down her slit, breathing in her scent, tasting her juices, delicious and forbidden. Her flesh was smooth, no hint of pubic stubble, and I guessed she'd shaved that day, perhaps in anticipation of this evening.

I believe a lot of post-menopausal ladies suffer from vaginal dryness, but my mother wasn't one of them. She wasn't quite leaking but her labia were slick with fluid and, as I probed deeper, I could feel her secret liquid coating my tongue. I licked upwards, teasing her clitoris, circling it, flicking over it, then taking the little nub in my mouth and sucking it, masturbating her with the tip of my tongue. She writhed on the bed, pulling at the quilt, eyes shut, moaning with pleasure. I took my left hand from her thigh and inserted my first two fingers into her vagina, pushing them deep inside. My mother climaxed, crying out and thrashing her head from side to side. As the spasms of pleasure subsided, I took my face, wet with her juices, from her pussy, stood up and removed my underpants. Leaning over her, and bracing myself with one arm, I guided my cock, rigid and dripping, to her gaping slit and pushed it in, all the way. I was a bit rough with her, considering this was probably only the second time she'd ever been penetrated, but Elizabeth showed no signs of discomfort. On the contrary, she groaned and tried to buck her hips against me to get me in even further. I was delirious with sexual desire, aroused to unheard of heights. I withdrew and speared into her again, leaning down and kissing her. She responded by grabbing my buttocks in her hands, digging her carmine nails into me, pulling me into her, trying to get that last half-inch inside. I began to fuck her slowly and with long, purposeful strokes. She opened her eyes and looked up at me shaking her head slightly from side to side.

'God, I'm so excited! Is this really happening?'

Her mouth was open and she was panting. I was desperate to come but at the same time wanted to delay my orgasm. I held the two fingers I'd pushed inside her under her nostrils. They were sticky with her secretions.

'Can you smell your juices?'

She closed her mouth and inhaled deeply through her nose. 'Mmmm... yes.'

I pushed the fingertips against her lips and she opened her mouth.

'Can you taste them?'

She lifted her head to suck at my fingers. The utter eroticism of this act, the warmth of her saliva and the softness of her mouth on my fingers, the incestuous submission of my mother, all came crashing in on me and I felt an unstoppable orgasm rip through me body and soul. I thrust harder, feeling my spunk spurt into her cunt. Five, six, seven jets. Then the passing of the peak, and the return from the stratosphere.

Afterwards I wanted to stay inside her but it was awkward with us on the edge of the bed, so I withdrew gently. We moved on to the bed properly and she snuggled into my arms and we lay, both slightly dazed, in the darkened room. Neither of us spoke and I was starting to nod off when Elizabeth whispered in my ear.

'Would you like me to stay tonight?'

'I would love that, Elizabeth.'

But somehow the spell was broken. I'd like to say that we spent the rest of the night in exquisite coitus, but we didn't. A few minutes later we got up off the bed, Elizabeth apologising that she'd leaked onto the quilt cover, and used the bathroom and got into bed together. Ok, we did fall asleep in each other's arms but we didn't really talk before we fell asleep and I had the feeling as I drifted off that there was an awkward discussion on the horizon, and maybe more when Elizabeth switched back to being my mother.

Whether or not this discussion would have happened when we woke the next morning, or over an embarrassing breakfast, we'll never know, because my mobile phone rang at seven am. The office. A crisis. It wasn't unusual to be contacted at the weekend, to be asked to come in. And with the crazy bonus I'd just been paid it was hard to refuse. So I showered and dressed and brought mum a cup of tea, putting it on the bedside table. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, expressionless.

'Mum, I have to go into the office. Stay here as long as you want. There's cereal and porridge and milk in the fridge. The alarm code is 2592 if you could set it when you leave...'

She sat up in bed, pulling the quilt up to cover her breasts. 'Thank you. I'm sorry you have to work this morning, we really needed to have a talk. Could you come over this evening?'

'Yes, of course, though I don't know what time I'll finish at work. It doesn't sound too good over there.'

'Well would it help if I cooked you dinner?'

'Yes, that'd be great. I'll try and be round by six.' I leaned over to kiss her and she tilted her head. We kissed very briefly, just a peck on the lips, then I was out of there, mind whirling, and not with the problems at work.

* * *

The crisis at the office was pretty serious which was good, because it occupied my mind all that Sunday when I could have been worrying about the "talk" with my mother. But we were finished by mid-afternoon and I decided to drive straight round, anxious to hear what she'd got to say and reluctant to delay things by going home first and faffing about in my flat, worrying. On the way I thought about last night -- obviously. The key point being that my mother and I had now had full, unprotected sexual intercourse and that was against the law. It was also a pretty big deal in terms of our emotional well-being. I'd been so fucking horny that I'd pushed all that aside; maybe mum had too. But the cold light of day was a different matter. And it was mum that I was driving round to see this afternoon, not Elizabeth. Although was this splitting of her personality just my invention to self-justify screwing her?

As I got near to the house it occurred to me that if she was expecting me no earlier than six, she might not actually be in. But her car was on the drive and I parked alongside it and went and rang the bell. I'd stopped at a petrol station for some flowers on the way over (classy, eh?) and I held these out as I waited. Mum took a long time to answer the door and when she did I was surprised to see that she was in her bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around her hair. I offered her the flowers.

'Hi, Mum,' I said, nonchalantly. 'Sorry I'm early but we were finished by three and it seemed sensible to come straight round.'

She took the flowers, giving me her best toothy smile. 'Thank you, Jack. I was just in the shower. Come in.'

She fussed in the kitchen while I sat uncomfortably in the front room. Eventually she appeared with a cup of tea and a sandwich.

'You probably haven't had much today as you've been working so I thought you might like a snack. I wasn't really expecting you till six so I didn't put the slow cooker on until just before I had my shower, so dinner won't be ready until at least seven-thirty. Will you be ok?'

'I'll be fine. It'll give us a chance to have a talk...'

'Yes.' She hesitated, then sat down beside me on the settee, pulling her bathrobe over her knees. 'Last night,' she began, her hands clenching nervously, 'obviously it was very wrong. Gravely wrong.' She paused and took one of my hands in hers. 'And I accept that most of the blame is mine; I'm supposed to be the parent here... And I undoubtedly led you on, asking you to teach me how to kiss.' She paused again, for longer.

I said nothing, resigned to hearing a little speech on mortal sin and moral rectitude and the consequences of such acts as we'd committed the previous evening. Except that wouldn't really have been mum's style.

She stared down at my hand that she was holding. 'The thing is, I don't regret what happened.' She swallowed and looked up at me. 'That might sound awful, but I don't. I'm glad we made love. Oh, I know it's against the law, but I'm twenty odd years past child-bearing age and we were both consenting adults, so on a rational basis, I don't see the harm. And on a non-rational basis, I've fallen in love with you, Jack. A lover's love.'

My stomach flipped over to hear such words from my mother. If I was truthful, I hadn't wanted to hear a lecture about the immorality of incest and an insistence that it must never happen again. I didn't think that you could have a sexual experience like we'd had the night before without wanting a repeat performance. An enhanced performance even. On the other hand, hearing words like this made things complicated. I looked at her, sitting next to me, smiling uncertainly, wondering what I was going to say, her upper lip pushed upwards slightly by her protruding teeth, her face bare of make-up, looking vulnerable. A lady who'd never had a proper lover. And I knew that if we continued a sexual relationship I would fall in love with her. A lover's love, as she'd said. And that might be ok for Elizabeth at sixty-two, but was it ok for selfish Jack at twenty-five? But I did want her, like no other woman I'd ever met. So knowing what would probably happen, I went ahead anyway.

'I don't regret last night either,' I said, putting an arm around her and drawing her to me. 'I have never in my life had such an intense sexual experience as I did with you last night, and I would be crazy to not want it to happen again,' and again and again, I added to myself. 'I understand the implications of committing incest, and I'm with you; we're both consenting adults, we're making a conscious decision. I can't make you pregnant. Where's the harm?'

'Oh, God, I'm so relieved!' Mum's eyes were welling up. 'Was it really so good for you last night?'

'Yes. The best ever, by a long way.'

'Will you stay over with me tonight, please, and make love to me?'

'There is nothing more on this earth that would please me more. But l will need to get over to my flat and pack an overnight bag. I've got a business trip tomorrow, but that'll give you a chance to get dressed and so forth.'

'What would you like me to put on?'

I felt my cock grow as I asked her to put on the black cocktail dress she'd worn at the Spa Hotel and to wear seamed stockings and French knickers.'