A Makeover for My Old Mum Ch. 03

'Is that still ok?'

Elizabeth's eyes were closed, her face flushed. 'Yes. It feels big but it's ok. It's nice.' She paused. 'Would you release my right hand, please?'

I reached up and unclipped the Velcro cuff on her wrist. With her head on the pillow, she wriggled her right arm underneath her and cupped her vulva, slipping a long middle finger into her vagina. I knew this because I could feel the finger slide in through the wall between her vagina and rectum; it was intensely exciting and I paused while she explored with her finger. Then she added another finger.

'God,' she muttered, 'I feel so full. And I can feel you inside me. Can you feel my fingers?'

'Yes,' I gasped, starting to fuck her again. Harder this time, long thrusts, coming right out to my glans, careful not to slip out completely. I felt Elizabeth's fingers slide out of her vagina and start to masturbate her clitoris. Her face flushed deeper and she gasped and groaned.

'Yes, Jack! Keep doing it to me, keep fucking my bottom!'

The sensations and my mother's obvious enjoyment were bringing me to an unstoppable climax.

'I'm coming,' I groaned, the world greying out again as an intense wave of pleasure crashed down over me.

'My mother cried out again, louder. 'Oh yes! Come inside me darling, come inside mummy's bum hole!'

At that point she climaxed too and for a few seconds the two of us were united in the most intense pleasure and satisfaction that either of us had ever experienced. The waves died down and we returned to earth, the room coming into focus again. Very slowly, I withdrew from my mother, taking extra care as the thickness of the glans squeezed through the little ring of muscle. But mum made no sound as I popped out, my cock shiny but free from excreta. I unclipped her left wrist and her ankles and flopped down on the bed beside her. She roused herself lethargically and turned over, snuggling up to me and putting her head on my chest. I put my arm around her and we lay quietly for long minutes. It was me who broke the silence, anxious to know how the first experience of anal sex had been for my sixty-two-year-old mother.

'Was it ok for you?' I asked, aware of how clichéd this sounded.

She looked up at me and smiled. 'I think you know the answer to that. Or are you looking for some flattery?' Her smile disappeared. 'I was quite worried about it, how much it would hurt, but I did want to do it for you. And you were brilliant, really gentle. And honestly? It hurt a tiny bit when you first went in but after that it was no problem. I actually really enjoyed it. Is that awful of me? And when you let me masturbate... I had the most intense orgasm I've ever had, I nearly blacked out.'

'Me too. But I was surprised when you asked to be tied down. I thought you'd want to be more in control, for the first time.'

She thought for a few moments. 'No, that's the thing, Jack. The more I learn about myself in the sexual context the more I realise that vulnerability is a big turn-on for me. That's why I like it when you're a bit rough with me and that's why I suggested getting the bondage stuff. So being tied down and anally penetrated was really, really exciting. I wanted it, Jack, maybe as much as you did.

Listening to her, I could hardly credit that this was my uptight retired librarian mother speaking. What a long journey we'd been on and how far we had come in the few short weeks since she's first asked me to teach her how to kiss. Remembering this I decided a little gentle teasing was in order.

'Well,' I began, 'I've taught you everything I know about sex, and a few things I learned myself along the way. The man you find on the internet is going to be one lucky bastard!'

'There isn't going to be any man on the internet,' she said, quietly.

Realisation dawned. 'There wasn't ever going to be, was there?'

'No. I'm sorry if I duped you but the idea of me giving myself to a stranger, after my experience in Leeds... Well I couldn't. Thing was, as I got older, I found my desire for sex to be growing, when I was expecting it to diminish. I was masturbating more and experimenting with... well, you know. So in the end I came to the conclusion that I would be happier giving myself to you than to a stranger; the incest taboo actually made it more exciting. I was just worried that you'd be repelled by me. Not just that I was your mother, but I'm not very attractive -- no wait, Jack, I'm not -- and my figure isn't very sexy.'

'So you planned the whole thing?' I marvelled. 'You cunning old fox!'

'Not exactly. I planned the internet thing, and pretended to go on a date so that I could ask you to teach me how to kiss, but the whole makeover thing... well, I couldn't really have planned that, could I? But when you suggested it... I actually thought for a moment you'd rumbled me and wanted to seduce me. Wishful thinking, I suppose.'

I put a finger under her chin and raised her face to mine, kissing her tenderly on the lips. 'No, I hadn't rumbled you. And if I'm honest, the idea of committing incest with you had never crossed my mind. You didn't present that sort of feminine image to the world. But you're beautiful. And you are sexy to a degree I never imagined any woman could be and I am so happy we have done this. Our relationship is a hundred times stronger than it was and I am happy to commit incest with you at every opportunity.'

'Thank you, Jack. That means the world to me.' She paused. 'But I'm sixty-two and we'll only have a few years together, and you've got a life to lead too.' Another pause. 'What I'm trying to say is that I want you to have girlfriends and do whatever you want. I don't want to constrain you in any way. But I'd love it more than anything if we could carry on a sexual relationship for as long as it is possible. Does that sound too demanding, darling?' she finished, anxiously.

'It sounds wonderful. And I believe many women carry on having a satisfying sex life well into their seventies.'

'Would you want me at seventy? All wrinkly and arthritic?'

We laughed and I kissed her again. 'Now it's time for you to stop being my lover and become my mother and go and get us some food.'

We showered and I threw on some jeans and a T shirt and mum put the black silky dressing gown on, staying naked underneath. We made fajitas and drank chianti and we kissed a lot and touched a lot and ended up on the sofa in the front room in each other's arms, watching a romantic comedy. I'm not sure how much of the film either of us took in; my head was whirling from the early evening activities and I was idly wondering how often my mother would let me fuck her anus when the landline phone rang and she disappeared into the hall to answer it.

I gathered from the disjointed and partially audible, one-sided conversation that it was not good news. Mum appeared five minutes later.

'That was your Aunt Katherine. Her husband's had a massive heart attack. He's in intensive care but it's not looking good.'

* * *

It wasn't good. Frank died later that night and mum and I drove up to Edinburgh a week later for the funeral. We hadn't known Frank well, he'd never visited Oxford and we had rarely ventured to Scotland, particularly as mum could only afford clapped out cars; this time we were in my company car. We broke the journey at Scotch Corner on the A1, booking shamelessly into a nondescript roadside motel as Mr and Mrs Wright. With mum firmly in her Elizabeth persona, and carefully dressed and made up, she could easily pass for early fifties and I looked nearer thirty than twenty-five, or so we kidded ourselves. Either way, the receptionist didn't bat an eyelid -- she'd doubtless seen stranger things.

It was seven o'clock by the time we got to the room and since the restaurant closed at eight, we showered and made a beeline for it, rather than having sex there and then, which was what we'd discussed in the car. This had the effect of building up a delicious sexual tension as we ate in the near deserted brasserie, touching and feeling each other under the table as we had done in that bistro outside Oxford. As before, Elizabeth discreetly opened her legs to allow me to slide my hand up her dress and explore her freshly shaven slit, which was so sopping wet that I had to dry my hands on my napkin before I could pick my cutlery up properly. As before we decided to skip dessert in favour of heading back to our room.

As soon as the door was shut behind us I reached out for my mother and clasped her to me, kissing her passionately, pushing my tongue into her mouth, reaching round to grab her arse cheeks and pulling her into me, rubbing my erection against her loins. She squirmed in my arms and opened her mouth wide, our saliva mixing and running down our chins. I broke the kiss and, turning her around, pushed her over the back of the settee. She gave a little moan and opened her legs as I used both hands to unceremoniously pull her woollen dress up to expose her suspender belt and bare backside. Undoing my belt and dropping my trousers and pants was the work of a few seconds. My erection sprang up, a string of clear liquid waving from the tip, and taking it in one hand I guided it to my mother's sopping twat and thrust it right in. I fucked her hard for a few minutes until I felt my climax approaching, then I withdrew.

'Take your dress and bra off and get on the bed,' I ordered, 'I want you to masturbate for me.'

While I stripped off she did as she was told, her face flushed with excitement. Sitting with her back against the headboard she opened her legs wide and started stroking her pussy with one hand and tweaking her nipples with the other, her eyes closed and a dreamy expression on her face. Though still firmly submissive, there was no trace now of the shyness and embarrassment that had characterised our early lovemaking. Faced with indisputable evidence that she was capable of driving me crazy with desire, Elizabeth's confidence had grown over the past weeks. In particular, the fact that she had successfully taken me in her anus had given her self-assurance a big boost, although we were yet to repeat the experience.

Now she opened her eyes and smiled at me, seductively. 'Shall I touch myself in my private place?'

I nodded, expecting her to lubricate a middle finger with her cunt juices. Instead, she raised a slim finger with a dark-green painted nail to her mouth and luxuriously sucked and licked it until it was dripping with her saliva, then she put the tip against her anus and pushed it slowly and firmly in, as far as it would go. Now she was using the fingers of her other hand to strum her clitoris, breathing heavily, a bead of saliva at the corner of her mouth.

'Fuck yourself with your finger,' I ordered.

She slid the finger halfway out and pushed it in again, then out, then in, getting into a rhythm with her masturbating, her moans getting louder. I watched this, fascinated, for about thirty seconds before I could bear it no longer; I had to be inside her. She removed the finger from her anus as I grasped her ankles and pulled her further down the bed, spreadeagling her before stuffing seven inches of steel-hard cock into her and starting to fuck her with long, hard thrusts. She cried out as I entered her and hooked her legs over the back of mine, giving her better leverage to meet my pelvic thrusts with hers. We were both close to an orgasm but Elizabeth had a new trick up her sleeve. Holding the finger she'd put up her arse up to her nose, she inhaled deeply.

'That's very naughty of mummy, isn't it? Smelling herself like that.'

'Yes,' I gasped, my mind whirling with this new avenue of erotica. But she wasn't finished yet.

'Would you like mummy to taste herself?' Without waiting for an answer my mother raised the finger to her lips and ran her tongue from the base of it to the painted nail. Then she slowly sucked it into her mouth.

My orgasm crashed through me, unstoppable, unimaginable pleasure. I jetted my semen into her and cried out her name. Elizabeth tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she reached a climax, grabbing my upper arms and digging her nails into my flesh.

'Oh God Jack, I love this, I love it, I love it!'

Afterwards we climbed into bed and cuddled together, kissing and stroking each other, the fires of our passion spent but the tenderness a soft glow between us.

'Was I awful?' asked Elizabeth, 'doing that with my finger?'

'No,' I said. 'It was just unbelievably erotic...'

'I did wash myself thoroughly before we went down to dinner.' She was silent for a minute. 'Do you want to do it in my bottom again?'

'Yes, very much so.'

'Let's do it as soon as we get home then,' she said. 'When we've got the lubricant and the bondage stuff.'

'You want me to tie you down again before we do it?'

'It's up to you, though I did like being tied down when you penetrated me. That feeling of violation was a very, very powerful stimulant.'

My penis was starting to respond to this conversation but I was tired after the driving and the sex so I changed the subject. 'What's Aunt Katherine going to make of her new-look sister? The green nail varnish alone is going to blow her mind. Then there's the dyed hair and the make-up and the clothes...'

'Yes,' replied Elizabeth. 'I've been thinking about that. I did wonder if I ought to tone it down a bit, go back to being Liz for a couple of days. Then I thought what the hell. I like being Elizabeth. She can get used to it. Oh God! You don't think she'll guess about us do you?'

'No way,' I reassured her. 'Though we are going to have to be careful. No stray hands or inappropriate comments. And you're going to have to tell her about getting the makeover to meet someone on the internet.'

'Yes. But we'll have to be careful. My sister isn't stupid.'

* * *

The funeral was held in a bleak graveyard with a view of the Castle. Afterwards we went back to Aunt Katherine's place, a mid-terrace nineteen-sixties ex-council house on an estate on the outskirts of the city; a poor house in a poor district. It was the first time mum and I had seen it. The last time we'd visited, three years ago, Katherine and her husband had been living in a modest but pleasant three-bed semi in Inverkeithing. The decline to this was disturbing and Katherine was clearly embarrassed, couldn't wait to get rid of the few mourners. It was getting dark when she closed the door on the last one and returned to the tiny lounge where mum and I, deliberately sitting apart from each other, were waiting for her.

Katherine had evidently been holding her emotions in check whilst we were in company. Now, with just the three of us, her voice sounded unsteady, a hint of hysteria.

'I know what you're both thinking. What am I doing in this shit hole? Well I'll tell you: my darling husband, who's personal troubles are now safely over, gambled and pissed away everything we had. We don't even own this house!'

We'd known about Frank's destructive behaviour but not that it had led to these dire straits. This level of abject poverty.

'It was just as well that mum didn't leave me anything,' she continued, her voice rising, 'because sure as eggs is eggs the bastard would have got his hands on it and spent it.' She started sniffing, as a preliminary to crying and mum went and sat next to her on the settee and put her arm around her. But Katherine wasn't ready to be comforted yet, there was a bit more bitterness to be exorcised. 'But you're looking well, little sister, all dressed up! And green nail varnish! Who'd have thought a little inheritance money would change little Liz like this?'

It went on for a bit longer then suddenly the tears came and her body was wracked with heart-wrenching sobs. The crying went on for a long time and mum continued to hold her, stroking her hair with her free hand. Eventually the tears subsided and mum offered her a handkerchief. There was silence in the room. The daylight had almost gone now, but nobody wanted to put a lamp on. Eventually Aunt Katherine spoke, her voice calm and clear, the catharsis apparently complete.

'I'm so sorry, Liz. I will never forgive myself for saying those dreadful things to you. If you got up and left now, I would completely understand... But I hope you'll stay, I haven't got any other family, now.' There was some sniffling, but it was clear the main event was over.

'We'll stay as long as you want,' said mum, ignoring the horrified look I was giving her over Katherine's shoulder. 'Now why don't you go upstairs and repair your make-up and so on and I'll make us all a cup of tea.'

Katherine withdrew and ascended the stairs, slowly and wearily. In the lounge mum looked at me.

'She's got to come and live with us. With me. She hasn't got anywhere else to go.'

I tried not to look disappointed at this. I think I succeeded. 'Yes,' I agreed, 'there's no other choice.' We looked at each other but said nothing. 'But do we have to stay here overnight? I'm not sure the car would still be there in the morning!' Mum got up and headed for the kitchen and a few minutes later Aunt Katherine came downstairs, looking much better and I suppose now would be a good time to describe my aunt.

Elizabeth always said her sister was the one who got the looks, and it's true that she was more attractive than my mother. She was ash blonde, rather than mum's dyed dark brown, but she'd got the same long face and pointed nose and chin, though without the slightly protruding front teeth; somehow it seemed to work better on her. And her figure was fuller: wider hips and a bigger bust. Not that that was difficult. She was an inch or two shorter than mum, but I'd guess she was a stone heavier. Not by any means fat, or even overweight, but with some subtle padding that mum hadn't got. I suppose to an outsider, she was sexier than mum, although I doubted that anyone could turn me on in the way that Elizabeth did.

The last time mum and I had visited Aunt Katherine, she'd come on to me a bit, or at least so I had imagined. Frank was "at work," or more likely in a betting shop, and mum had gone to the cinema to see some intellectual clap-trap film that auntie and I had flatly refused to see. So we were alone in the house together, something I couldn't recall happening before. We chatted for ages, auntie asking me about my life and my job and girlfriends and so on. She was genuinely interested and I was flattered; mum probably wouldn't have bothered asking me all that stuff if she's been in Aunt Katherine's place. Then she gave me a guided tour of the house -- it was the first time we'd been there -- ending up in the smallest bedroom.

'This is where you'll sleep tonight, Jack,' she'd said. 'Alone I'm afraid.'

I was a bit embarrassed and said nothing.

'But I'll bet a lad with your looks and personality won't be spending many nights alone eh?' she said, winking archly at me. 'Makes me a bit sorry I'm your aunt.'

Then she stepped forward and kissed me, on the lips, just for a few seconds. She didn't open her mouth or try to push her tongue past my lips or anything, but it wasn't an "auntie" kiss. I didn't respond and she broke off, looking a bit awkward.

'Well, we'd best be getting dinner. Your mother will be home in half an hour.'

I sometimes used to wonder what would have happened if I had responded and kissed her back. I think, though I can't be certain, that we would have ended up having sex, there and then, in that little bedroom. But I didn't and we didn't and the rest of the visit passed without anything similar happening. I thought about it afterwards of course; sometimes when I masturbated I would imagine a scene where I kissed my aunt back and we made love. I hadn't thought about it for a long time, but now as Aunt Katherine came back into the lounge, her make-up repaired and her hair brushed, it came back to me and I wondered what the future held for all of us if Katherine moved in with mum.