A Makeover for My Old Mum Ch. 02

In chapter 1, Jack helps his mum to re-invent herself to improve her chances of meeting someone following the death of her mother and release from caring responsibilities. The plan takes an unexpected turn when his mother asks him to teach her how to kiss, and to go on a simulated date, and, inevitably, they end up having sex together -- twice.

This chapter is about what happens next and the developing sexual and emotional relationship between Jack and Elizabeth. It is recommended that you read chapter 1 first as this contains important background on Elizabeth's looks and character which are highly pertinent to the story line. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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I woke up on Monday morning in my mother's bed, with my mother, Elizabeth, naked next to me. Unlike the previous weekend, when we'd had sexual intercourse together for the first time, there was no guilt in my mind about last night, no anxiety about inevitable difficult conversations and no worries about how my mother was feeling either. She'd made it quite plain to me that she was an enthusiastic participant in our incest; indeed, she'd been the initiator. She'd also made it plain that she wished very much to continue our relationship, to redress the loveless life she'd led before and after the one-night stand that led to my conception. The future looked very rosy this morning as I glanced at the bedside clock before languidly reaching for my mother with the intention of rousing her and making love to her. Unfortunately, the clock said 8:35, when it really shouldn't have said anything later than 7:30. I'd overslept, by more than an hour. Shit! And I'd got to get the eleven-thirty Eurostar from London St Pancras to Paris! Bugger!

I leapt out of bed and threw my clothes on, foregoing my morning shower, which I hate doing. Breakfast was out of the question, though I should be able to get something on the train to London. Elizabeth stirred and sat up in bed, bleary eyed.

'Sorry Mum, I'm going to have to leave, right now, I'm an hour late as it is.'

'When will I see you?' she asked in a plaintive voice.

'I'll call you tonight from Paris and I'll come round on Wednesday evening, when I get back. Sorry, this isn't the parting I'd planned after last night. I was going to make love to you and leave you all sexually aroused and gasping for more.'

She smiled, looking less desolate. 'Yes, ring me tonight. Please.'

She looked so defenceless and fragile sitting there in the bed in the morning light, her narrow shoulders drooping, her hard little breasts just visible above the duvet. I felt a wave of affection for her, and a wave of arousal; for two pins I'd have called in a sickie and jumped back into bed with her.

But sense prevailed and I stuffed my wash things into my overnight bag and left the house, making it to the station car park in record time.

I worked on the train to London and on the Eurostar, so I was more than prepared for the series of meetings that ran on in the French capital until seven o'clock local time, an hour later than UK time. By the time I got back to my hotel room I was exhausted. The emotional and physical gymnastics with my mother and the long working day had left me drained and I politely declined the invitation to dinner from my French hosts. I also declined the offer of going on a bender in Paris with some of the lawyers from our London office. All I wanted was a long bath, a room service meal and bed. Oh, and I said I'd ring mum, too. My personal mobile phone had been switched off since St Pancras, although my work phone had been on and jammed against my ear for much of the day. I switched the work phone off and my personal phone on. While it booted itself up I went into the bathroom and ran a very hot bath, then I stripped off and picked up my phone. There were numerous emails and WhatsApp messages but two caught my eye, both from my mother. The first was just a text.

Dearest Jack, thank you, thank you, thank you for last night. It was sensational. I'm sure you're right that things will get better and better between us but I will always remember the first times! I can't believe this is happening to me! After all these years! I'm a lucky lady indeed to have such a son and lover! By the way, you asked me if I would masturbate in front of you, something I am more than happy to do, but to save you waiting until Wednesday, I've sent you a little appetiser!

The next message was a video, two minutes and twenty-one seconds long. I pressed the play button and watched fascinated as my mother's shaven pussy appeared on the screen. She appeared to be sitting in the armchair in her bedroom, her legs, encased in black stockings, were draped over the arms of the chair, the very position I'd put her in the previous evening before going down on her. It looked like her phone was propped on an occasional table, set in front of the chair and about eighteen inches away. Everything was crystal clear and in the most erotic close up. I could see every detail of her labia, could see that she was wet, aroused. As I watched, her hand, with its painted red nails, appeared and started stroking her cunt lips, parting them to show me the shiny pink skin within, running a long middle finger slowly up and down her slit and then sliding it in to the second or third knuckle. Then using two fingers. The sound quality was pretty good, too. I could hear her breathing and I could also hear the gentle sucking and squelching noises as she fingered herself. Then her other hand appeared and the middle finger found her clitoris and started rubbing it with a circular motion. I could hear her breathing getting louder and she started pushing her two fingers in and out of her vagina faster and deeper.

I think she must have kicked out her leg, as she climaxed, and knocked the table over, because at the critical moment the screen went crazy and the bedroom ceiling flashed across the field of view. Then the video ended. I was stunned. This was my mum who'd just sent me a highly explicit video of her masturbating. Even for the Elizabeth persona, this was pushing the boundaries remarkably quickly and remarkably far. I watched the video again, three times, while I too masturbated to orgasm, timing my ejaculation with the one on the screen.

Afterwards, I had my bath, put on the complementary bathrobe and sprawled on the bed with my phone. Elizabeth answered at the third ring.

'Hi, Mum, how are you? Loved the video!'

'Well I was feeling so horny after you'd left and you'd asked to see me masturbate, so I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. I'm so glad you liked it, Jack. I was a bit worried that you'd be offended or think me an awful slut. I nearly didn't sent it, especially as I'd had an orgasm so I was feeling back to normal. I ummed and ahhed for a couple of hours and then took the plunge and pressed the send arrow. And guess what?'

'What?' It was lovely to hear my mum so animated. I was hardly saying a word, content to lie back on the bed and listen to the rush of enthusiasm about her sexual awakening.

'After I'd sent it I felt really aroused again so I went upstairs and masturbated again, though I didn't record any video that time. Isn't that awful? And of course I said I'd do it in front of you, too, though I have to say I'm a bit nervous about that and I'll probably be a bit shy.'

'I think it's rather special that you would want to do that for me, Elizabeth. One thing though, Fabulous as it is, sending me such an explicit video, I think we need to be a bit cautious about our relationship and the messages we send. What we're doing is illegal and sending texts and videos isn't one hundred percent safe. What if someone at work got access to my phone, for example?'

'Oh, yes, I suppose you're right. I'm sorry, I never thought about that.' She sounded deflated and I felt mean.

'But the video was really something else. I watched it three times and masturbated to it, too! I'll probably watch it again before I go to sleep.'

'Really!?' Well don't wear yourself out before Wednesday. You are still coming round aren't you?'

'Of course. I'm getting the midday Eurostar to London so I'll be back in Oxford for four. I need to go to my flat and check mail and so on so I'll be with you around six, if that's ok?'

'I can't wait! What would you like me to wear for you?'

'How about that green sheath dress that you wore on our first date?'

'Oh, good idea. What else?'

'Well, stockings and a garter belt, obviously...'

'Would you like black, seamed stockings?' she asked quietly.

'Yes,' I choked, feeling my cock rise again under the bathrobe. 'And no knickers,' I ordered.

'As you wish,' she replied, meekly. 'And what colour would you like my nails? I'm going shopping for some more nail varnish in the morning and some other stuff too.'

'I don't know. What would you like?'

'I thought maybe a very dark red, and I'll wear matching lipstick.'

Mum, or Elizabeth, really, was certainly embracing the world of cosmetics and clothes that I'd introduced her to. A few short weeks ago, the very idea of my her wearing seamed stockings, or nail varnish, would have been preposterous. Now here she was discussing it with me and agreeing that she'd wear no knickers for me when I came round on Wednesday. Well, I thought, roll on Wednesday.

* * * * *

The journey back to Oxford was tedious, as usual. There was some sort of strike at the French end of the tunnel, also as usual, and we were delayed by an hour, so I didn't reach mum's house until after seven on the Wednesday evening. I let myself in and called out to let her know I'd arrived.

'In the kitchen!' she called back.

I walked down the passage and into the kitchen, an old-fashioned but comfortable room with a scrubbed pine table in the middle. Mum was sitting at the table preparing vegetables, a calico apron over her silky green dress. As I came in she stood up and took the apron off.

Coming round the table to meet me she looked as good as I remembered, better, in fact. I had spent the last couple of days imagining this moment, to the detriment of the work that I was paid to do. Now I ran my eyes over her, noting the stockings and high-heels and the matching claret lipstick and nail varnish. We embraced and kissed, mouths almost on a level; with her three-inch heels she was only an inch shorter than me. I felt her tongue enter my mouth and I felt her front teeth against my upper lip. For some reason this sensation always excited me. Maybe it was because I could always tell I was French kissing my mother even with my eyes closed. The kissing became more passionate, our mouths wide open, saliva on my chin and hers. Her hands were on the back of my neck, those perfect painted nails digging in gently, ensuring I wouldn't break away. My hands roved over her bum cheeks, noting the slippery feel of the dress lining against her naked buttocks; she'd obeyed my instruction.

The realisation that my mother really wasn't wearing any knickers caused my stomach to flip over with desire. I needed something now, and I'd thought about what I wanted on my way over to her house. I broke the kiss and turned her, a little roughly, so that she was facing the table.

'I loved the little taster that you sent me on video, Elizabeth. Now I'm going to give you a little taster of what you're going to get later this evening.'

I pushed her down over the table and lifted her dress, revealing her naked arse, at the same time fumbling with my belt. I was taking a bit of a risk here; My mother might not appreciate this quasi-rough treatment with its overtones of non-consent. So whilst I was pulling my trousers down and freeing my erection with one hand and holding Elizabeth face down on the table with the other, I was alert to signals that she wasn't enjoying it, at which point I would have stopped. But there were no signals. On the contrary, she opened her legs wide and grasped the far edge of the table, as though bracing herself for my entry. I slid my hand between her buttocks and found the slick wetness of her cunt; she was lubricated and ready. Holding my cock in one hand and with my other on Elizabeth's back, I entered her firmly. It was the first time she'd been penetrated from behind and she gave a gasp as I slid my whole seven inches in.

'Oh, God, that's deep!' Her fingers grasped the table edge tightly, the knuckles white.

'Does it feel good?' I asked.

'Oh, yes, it's wonderful.'

I drove into her, long, hard thrusts, coming almost out before ramming my cock home again. Then, quite suddenly, I withdrew and pulled my underpants and trousers up, leaving my mother still sprawled over the table.

'Right, that's it. That's your little taster over.'

Elizabeth stood up and faced me. 'Oh no, Jack, you're not going to stop there are you. Please don't, I want you. And I want to come.'

'And I want you, too, darling. And tonight will be cataclysmic. It'll make what we've done so far look like a nuns' tea party. Trust me, these little tasters, and there will be others, will bring you to new heights of pleasure later on.'

Boastful words, I suppose, but I was fairly sure I could deliver. Elizabeth was on a steep learning curve and I didn't think we were anywhere near the top yet. What was great was her willingness to learn, to take and to give. And if I was being totally honest, I was also really turned on by her submissiveness, hence the slightly rough treatment just now. I'd never cross the line but that hint of domination was turning out to be a potent flavouring to our relationship, and it had taken a lot of willpower to stop when I did, instead of ramming her from behind until I came.

'Ok, I suppose I'll have to wait.' She smiled and put her arms around me. 'You called me darling. That was nice.'

We kissed again, until her dark red lipstick was almost entirely gone. And while we kissed I explored beneath her skirt, my hands running over her bare bum, exploring between the cheeks, my forefinger finding, and very gently touching, her rosebud, stroking it a couple of times before working round to the front where I found her clitoris and rubbed it slowly for a few moments. She hung onto me as I stimulated her, groaning, her eyes half closed. Breaking the kiss she pressed her head to my chest.

'You touched my anus,' she whispered.

'Did you like it?'

Her voice was barely audible. 'Yes. I touch myself there, sometimes, when I'm masturbating. Is that nasty?'

This revelation almost made me come on the spot but I pulled myself together, my heart racing with excitement.

'No, it's perfectly normal,' I assured her, wondering how many women actually did touch their own anus when masturbating. I'd never come across one who did, but the idea... well, it was mind blowing.

Elizabeth was obviously very embarrassed by her admission and I wondered why she'd made it. She fussed around opening a bottle of wine and asking me about my trip to Paris and what the weather had been like and generally switching back to being mum. I went along with it, conscious of her discomfiture. I was also aware that since I'd been round we'd barely exchanged a dozen words; all I'd done was kiss my mother passionately and fuck her from behind over the kitchen table for a few seconds. Not the most romantic of arrivals.

We took a glass of wine through to the front room and relaxed as we drank it, the red-hot passion fading to be replaced by a constant smoulder. I couldn't keep my hands off Elizabeth and could hardly go five minutes without kissing her or hugging her. She was delighted and she relaxed visibly as the evening progressed, seeming to forget the embarrassment of her intimate disclosure. Dinner was a bit overdone because I kept kissing my mother when she should have been attending to the casserole, but that hardly mattered. After dinner we watched "Sleepless in Seattle", one of mum's favourites, and I further entertained her by putting my hand up her dress and lightly stroking her cunt for most of the film. By the time the credits came up she was almost beside herself with desire.

'Can we go upstairs to be now, please Jack? You've been teasing and touching me all evening and I feel as though I'll lose my mind if you don't make love to me.'

Upstairs, in her bedroom, the lights all turned off apart from a low wattage lamp on the occasional table next to her bedroom chair, I stripped off without ceremony before unzipping my mother's dress and letting it fall to the floor with a rustle of silk against nylon. She stepped out of it and smiled at me nervously. She was very excited, but standing in front of me, clad only in heels, stockings, suspender belt and a bra, she was way outside her comfort zone. This was still very new to her, and the fact that she was doing all this with her son could only add to her anxiety.

'Shall I take my brassiere off?'

Mum was the only person I'd ever heard use that word; it sounded old-fashioned and highlighted her vulnerability. And she looked vulnerable: a tall, thin, not very attractive, sixty-two-year-old lady who, apart from one drunken transgression, had never slept with a man until two weeks ago. Had never worn sexy underwear or makeup. Had never painted her nails. Had most certainly never masturbated in front of her son.

'Yes please, then go and sit in the chair, like you did to make the video.'

'What are you going to do to me?'

'You're going to masturbate for me.'

'Jack, I don't think... I'm shy... It was different when I was alone.'

'Sit in the chair,' I said more firmly, as she unclipped the lacy black bra and dropped it on the floor, her little breasts firm, her nipples standing out with fear or excitement -- or both.

She did as I asked, sitting well forward on the seat then opening her legs widely and putting one over each chair arm, her whole sex exposed to me in the light of the table lamp that I'd strategically placed near the chair. Smooth, hairless, the outer lips a faint golden-brown, her rosebud, which was visible below, a deeper brown.

I knelt before her, my face close to her labia, inhaling the sweet, musky scent of her secretions. 'Have you shaved today? You feel very smooth.'

'Yes,' she said quietly. I shaved before you came round.'

I sat back on my heels. 'Now masturbate,' I said, relishing the word.

She closed her eyes and put the fingers of her left hand on her labia, parting them and sliding the long, red-tipped middle finger in. It was as she'd done in the video, but this was real. It was me and not her phone that was eighteen inches away. She spent some time slowly sliding her finger all the way in and then out, trailing it up and down her labia, spreading her lubrication, before sliding it in again.

'Would you like me to use two fingers?'

She was looking at me now, and I think that was when I realised that she had started to enjoy what was happening, had begun to overcome her natural reserve and to realise the power that sex can give a woman over a man. What happened next confirmed my suspicion -- completely.

'Yes,' I said hoarsely, 'two fingers.'

Elizabeth withdrew the middle finger from her vagina and put her hand up to her face. Holding up the glistening middle finger and the forefinger together to show me, she opened her mouth and licked the two fingers then sucked them in, pulling them out dripping with her saliva. Still looking at me, she put her hand between her legs and pushed both fingers into her cunt, right up to the third knuckle. I was mesmerised; I had never experienced anything as erotic as this before. Now, as I watched, her right hand came into play, sliding slowly over her bare inner thigh and down to her clitoris, where she used the middle finger to tease her little nub, rubbing it and flicking it.

I was entranced, motionless, aware of nothing except this private sex show that my mother was putting on for me not two feet away. Eyes closed again, and seemingly in her own world, Elizabeth had got into a rhythm, using two fingers to fuck herself slowly and deeply and running the soft pad of her other middle fingertip over her clitoris, dipping the finger into her slit occasionally to replenish the lubricant. Her mouth was slightly open, a trace of saliva at one corner and she was moaning quietly and constantly. I didn't think she could last much longer without an orgasm.