A Mother's Diary

I grabbed him and pulled him to me once again. "But it's wrong," I said. "You should be out enjoying yourself with girls your own age, not listening to my trouble, not stuck in this flat with a miserable ugly old woman!"

"You're not ugly," he said quickly, but then paused as if unable to finish what he was going to say.

"You're just saying that," I said, deliberately encouraging him to continue.

But he was silent.

I looked down at myself as if suddenly realising I was undressed. "Oh dear," I said. "Not only do you have to put up with my tears but you have to look at my ugly old body while you do it! What a good boy you are, a wonderful wonderful boy. If only there were some way for me to repay you for all the time and trouble and effort you give me."

Again he was silent for a while, then his hand moved on my thigh as if he were sensing the feel of my stocking-top. "I Don't think your body is ugly, you're a very lovely woman."

Now it may be that Robbie was only trying to be nice but it was a chance too good to miss. I gave him a strange look, as if I was just realising something, and I smiled shyly.

"My legs are not too bad for my age," I said. "and I supposed they look ok in these stockings. Do you think they are ok?

I'm sure he gulped before he said hoarsely, "I think they look great. Very sexy..."

He stopped in mid sentence. "I mean," he stammered, "classy... er nice."

He was obviously flustered but I didn't spare him,

"You think your Mum's legs are sexy!?" I said, as if taken aback.

"No!" he said strongly I didn't mean it like that. "I just meant..." He paused as if unable to find the right words. "I'm sorry. I ..."

"It's ok," I said, ruffling his hair with my hand. "I may be your Mother but I am still a woman and you are still a man. I think it's nice you think my legs look sexy in these stockings. It makes me feel young again."

Suddenly I stood up and twirled around a couple of times. "You like looking at my legs do you?" I said with a big grin.

Robbie flushed but eventually nodded.

"Well that is something at least I can do for you. Maybe I'll leave my dress off every now and then and you can look at my legs. Would you like that... as a way of Mummy saying thank you?"

"That... that would be great," he whispered.

"You want me to keep stockings on, or do you prefer a bare leg?"

"The st... stockings are fine," he said in a voice that almost choked.

"Good," I said. "So be it. I will reward my loyal son by letting him look at his Mother's 'sexy legs'." I laughed as if I thought it a wonderful idea.

Robbie Just looked me, his eyes wide in amazement.

"Now," I whispered kissing him on the cheek. "You'd better go while I get changed and then we can have some dinner."

For the first time he actually smiled and he gave me a warm loving look, as if I had suddenly told him it was christmas tomorrow. Then he hoped off the bed and made for the door.

"Unless you want to stay and watch?" I called after him as he grabbed the door handle.

He froze and turned around. He gave me a look that plainly said, 'are you serious?'.

"I'm joking," I said with a grin and he turned to go. But as he went through the door I added, as if half to myself but loud enough for him to hear, "maybe another time."

Later I came out wearing a ribbed sweater but no skirt. Robbie just stared at me.

"You can look at my legs while I make dinner," I said almost casually

And I spent the rest of the evening without anything covering my legs or stockings and suspenders, and while I sat on the sofa watching TV, Robbie sat in his chair trying hard not to let me see his only interest was in examining every inch of my nylons.

I took my pills as normal but this time I did not feign sleep. Instead when I was (apparently) drowsy I asked him to help me get undressed and go to bed. This time he leapt at the chance. In the bedroom he sat me on the bed and took off my sweater, leaving me only in my bra. Then, without asking he unhooked my nylons and rolled them down and off. The touch of his hands was gentle and erotic. I told him how sweet and kind he was. I asked him to unhook my bra, which he did with shaking fingers.

I held my loose bra to my chest and asked him to get my nightie from under the pillow. He passed it to me and then just stood there.

"Turn round dear," I said softly.

"Oh sorry," he replied looking embarrassed for the first time. He turned his back to me whilst I slipped on my nightie.

But I had chosen this night-dress especially, so when he turned round, although my breasts were covered, you could clearly see my large dark nipples through the material. My breasts were never very big and by now were reduced to a relatively small size, but my nipples were, as my ex-husband used to put it, 'chunky', and he always thought my tits attractive.

Robbie turned back and stared at my chest, which I pretended not to notice. Instead, as I slipped into bed, I arched my back so that my small (but still pert) breasts and chunky nipples were forced against the nylon nightie and clearly outlined through the semi-transparent.

"Goodnight darling," I whispered sleepily. "You're such a good boy, I'd do anything for you. Give Mummy a big kiss."

He lent over to kiss my cheek but I made it so he kissed my mouth, and I pressed harder and longer than was either normal or proper. Eventually he stood back rather breathless.

"Turn the light out as you go my beautiful boy".

I knew he was now primed as well as he could be so it was no surprise when next morning he suggested I come and stay with him until I found somewhere else to live. I gave him (another) big kiss on the lips and thanked him. Then, as if in an afterthought, I asked him if he were really sure; it was after all a terrible imposition. He assured me it was fine, but just to tie up the package as tight as possible, I told him (with a strange look) that I would be very very grateful.

September 16th

I am here in Robbie's flat but I think now I overdid it. In my eagerness to ensure the plan worked I went too far and left Robbie expecting too much. Nothing has happened between us except once (at his request) I took my skirt off for an evening, but he is pressing me for more. He is clearly frustrated that I have not kept my (implied) promise to be more 'friendly', and he has even started to ask me when I am leaving.

Indeed it seems my plan may have backfired, and it is now him in the driving seat. The only way he will let me stay is if I give him what he wants... or at least that's the tacit impression he is giving me. But I am no longer willing to go down that road, especially as I have no idea where it will end. What does he want exactly? Does he really want to have sex with his own Mother?

What am I going to do? I can't really blame him or complain as I took the first steps on this road. I must try and think this through.

October 1st

It's not just vague hints anymore, Robbie has insisted I give him a date for my departure. Moreover he has even said explicitly that 'things' have not turned out as he expected, and I 'don't seem very grateful' for his inconvenience. I know exactly what he means, and from the look in his eye he knows I know. As I said I don't want to go down this road but it seems I have little choice. I have even tried leaving off my skirt... I did that for a whole week... but it no longer seems enough. Likewise I have had no luck with a job and without that I cannot get a flat. My only option seems be to begin (or maybe I should say continue) an incestuous relationship with my son.

But how much does he want? How far can I go? This is becoming a nightmare, even if it is of my own making.

October 16th

I have concocted a plan. I thought at first if I let him see a bit more of my body, and maybe even let him touch my breasts, that would be sufficient. But then I realised he is man, and of course needs to ejaculate in my presence to get the satisfaction he craves. So I will have to find a way to masturbate him. It seems a very extreme and disgusting thing to do but I have little choice. Also if I 'take him in hand' that at least will give me back the high ground. He can't be expecting I would be so bold. And anyway it would be enough to satisfy him... wouldn't it?

October 17th

I'm not sure if I should write down what happened today. It is a terrible story, and yet it is also erotically charged. I am also not sure where it will eventually lead. But I have to confess it has changed me and I am beginning to worry more about myself than Robbie.

It began this afternoon. Rather than just leaving off my skirt I came into the lounge wearing only my lingerie. I had been out and bought a new set; matching bra and briefs and garter belt. I had also invested in a pair of fully-fashioned black seamed stockings. It was the ultimate seduction set and Robbie's eyes lit up light a Christmas tree when he saw me.

"I think it's time to show you how grateful I am," I said as seductively as I could.

"Wow!" was all he said.

I went over to the sofa and sat right next to him. He didn't move away (as he would have done in the past) but immediately dropped his hand on my thigh.

"You don't mind if I touch your leg," he said, seemingly assured of my answer. He was disturbingly confident and I confess that worried me a lot. I suppose he thought he was only taking what was promised.

"Go ahead," I said. "You can feel my legs and my stockings as much as you want. You think they're sexy after all." I added the last bit more to try and return to a past stage when I was in command than anything else.

He busied himself rubbing both his hands up and down my stockings, but as one of his hands found the bare skin above my stocking-top, I whispered in as calm a voice as I could manage, "not too far now, I am still your Mother." He stopped and looked at me. I thought at first he was disappointed or confused, but then I saw the steely look in his eye.

"Either you mind me touching you or you don't."

For a moment I was taken aback. "I don't mind," I said at last, "but you mustn't go too far, that's all."

"Why not?" he said simply. "I thought you loved me and were 'very very' grateful for what I've done?"

I looked in his eyes and they scared me.

"You do want to stay here?" he said harshly.

What could I say? It was as if he had guessed what my plans had been all along and was at last calling my bluff. Yes, I wanted to stay, but I didn't want to pay the price he was demanding. But what choice did I have? So I remained silent and just nodded ever so slightly.

As if sensing he'd won his hand reached up and cupped my left breast. I gasped in shock, but didn't try to stop him. I was going to let him touch me there anyway, but I had wanted it on my terms not his. With no verbal complaint coming, his other hand followed suit and lifted and enclosed my right breast. Slowly he began to massage and fondle my breasts.

"You have lovely boobs Mummy," he whispered.

I said nothing. My throat was suddenly very dry.

Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. He was gentle and soft and I felt I had no choice but to respond and allow the respectful kiss to evolve into something more. My mouth opened and he kissed me passionately, his tongue flicking in between my lips. As he did so his hands began to grope more roughly at my tits. Then before I knew what was happening he had slipped the bra off my shoulders and I was suddenly naked above the waist, and he was pawing at my bare chest. There was a part of me screaming to make it stop, but there was another part which knew I had to let him have his way or I would be out on my ear, so I didn't stop him, but I didn't encourage him either... at least I didn't intend to.

I suppose it wasn't entirely unpleasant; it had been a long time since my body had felt such a passionate attack. Eventually the kiss broke and he murmured into my ear that he loved his Mummy very much. I'm not sure why but his use of the word 'mummy' gave me a jolt... an erotic jolt. I whispered back that I loved him too. I even said again that he was the only man I loved. I don't know why I did that because it only had the effect of increasing his ardour. He picked up my hand and dropped it on to the front of his trousers, and I could feel his erection throbbing under my hand. In too far now to stop, my fingers curled around his hard cock and began to rub it gently. I have to confess it felt good. He really was a man now.

But then he pushed me back on the sofa and before I knew what was happening he was on top of me. I could feel his hardness suddenly between my legs. It was all too much too quickly, and just how wrong this was suddenly hit me like a thunderbolt. I pushed him away and got up off the sofa, struggling to pull my bra back up from my waist. We were both panting as I covered my breasts and moved over to the armchair.

"No Robbie," I said breathlessly. "I... we... can't do this."

"Why not," he said again. "It suits both of us doesn't it?"

Ignoring the obvious confirmation that he had indeed guessed my plan, I simply said. "I am your mother, you can't have sex with me. It's incest... it's illegal apart from anything else. It's wrong... you know that."

But to my horror he just smiled at me and said. "Yes Mum but it's very exciting isn't it."

"Robbie!" I gasped. "What's got into you?"

He stood up and walked over to my chair. Then he unzipped he trousers and I could see the bulge of his penis behind his underpants. "You started this," he whispered. "And now you're going to finish it. If I can't have intercourse with you we'll have to find another way for you to give me what I 'deserve'."

I looked up at him. He seemed strangely dominant and I felt uncharacteristically weak. As he was standing and I was sitting, his manhood was at the level of my face, and I was suddenly afraid he wanted to put his penis in my mouth. I never liked that and rarely did it even for my husband George (he had once ejaculated it in my mouth, and apart from the fact I nearly choked, the taste was awful, I never let him do it again). I had no intention of going down that road with Robbie so I stood up, took his hand, and led him back to the sofa. Then I slid my hand into the opening of his fly and began to fondle him. He lay back, his legs apart and his eyes closed.

I slowly and carefully extracted his penis from his underclothes and began to rub it up and down. It was hot and damp and engorged and it brought back memories from my younger days. I began to rub faster. I suppose I was hoping he was so excited he would shoot his load quickly and it would all be over. But instead he opened his eyes and looked at me.

"I can wank myself off mum, I don't need you to do it," he said in a scathing tone. "I want something more from you."

Hearing such words from my son was both shocking and surprising. For a moment I simply didn't know what to say.

Then I said breathlessly "So... what... what do you want?".

"Take off the rest of your clothes."

I looked at him in horror.

"You can leave those lovely black stockings on," he went on. "But I want to see the rest of you naked."

It wasn't undressing in front of him, even though he was my son, that frightened me, it was the cold hard manner of his speech. He was no longer the warm loving little boy I thought I knew.

Nevertheless it seemed I had no choice.

Slowly and very reluctantly I stood up and removed my bra. I could almost feel his eyes caressing my breasts. Then I bent down and lowered my panties over my suspender belt. I stepped out of them and stood naked before my son.

"Just stand there," he whispered, he eyes now picking at the hair around my vagina and trying to bore deep between my legs.

So I did as commanded and stood naked and still in front of him whilst he stared at me. Then he took hold of his penis and started to masturbate unashamedly. The fact he was able to sit there in front of his Mother, legs wide apart, pulling wildly at his penis shocked me beyond words. I confess even after years of marriage neither I nor my husband had ever been so brazen in our sexual encounters. It was deeply disconcerting, and yet curiously it was also disturbingly honest.

As I watched him I saw his eyes flicker all over my body, taking in my nakedness like a drug. At the same time his hand flashed up and down with a practice confidence.

He began to breath hard. "You're a dirty bitch," he whispered, almost to himself. "My Mummy is a dirty fucking bitch!"

I quickly realised these words were just part of his fantasy and he was saying them to increase his erotic pleasure. I'm not sure why but I felt obliged to join in or at least make a contribution. My hand slid up to my breasts and I started to rub them. "You like Mummy's titties do you baby?" I whispered. "you want to fondle them? You want to grope Mummy? Run your hands all over your dirty Mummy's body?"

"Yes Mummy, YES," he almost screamed, his hand now pounding his penis.

Then suddenly he gave a low moan and started to ejaculate. A long jet of white fluid leapt from his penis high in the air and arched across the room straight at me. Before I could react it had cascaded down over my chest and stomach. Robbie's eyes were closed but he kept pumping himself, spitting lots of white trails on the floor and over his trouser legs till the whole area began to look like someone had shattered a bottle of milk.

For a moment I just stood and stared, my eyes torn between my son lying back contentedly on the sofa, his limp prick covered in sperm, and looking down at the trails of white sticky smelly fluid dripping from my breasts. As I said I've lived a conservative life and I'd never seen anything that was both so disgusting and at the same time so erotic.

"I'll get a cloth," I said, starting for the kitchen. "You'd better take those trousers off too," I added, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

"For you, anytime!" I heard Robbie chuckle, and even after everything that had happened I still blushed at those words.

As I cleaned myself down my mind was spinning. So was this the price I was going to have to pay to stay in Robbie's flat? Could I live with being the real-life source of my son's masturbation fantasies; standing naked in front of him and saying dirty things whilst he got his rocks off? After some consideration I decided I probably could... if that was as far as it went. I wouldn't like it (well that's what I told myself anyway) but I was a grown woman and I could live with it, and maybe even understand. It was a nightmare but not as bad a nightmare as being homeless at 57.

After all if you're a woman you have to put up with a lot of sordid things from men, that's normal. Men are such hypocritical bastards; they want you to be a sweet beautiful princess and a filthy slut, both at the same time (or rather at different times of the same day). They also expect you to be their slave, to cook and clean and look after the kids, and then dress up at night to fulfil their personal sexual fantasies (which are usually perverted and disgusting).

Robbie was a man now and maybe to get his protection it wasn't such a unusual price to pay.

But as I went back into the lounge, holding my damp cloth, I realised the deal I had just persuaded myself to accept was a touch premature. Robbie was standing there by the sofa with no trousers or pants on, but with a hard dick jutting up again like nothing had happened. 'Oh Lord', I thought to myself, 'I'd forgotten how quickly young boys can get it up again'.

His penis looked clean now, and I guessed he'd used his shorts to wipe it as they were lying on the floor in a pile with his trousers. He gave me a half-smile that wasn't anything to do with amusement, and motioned for me to sit in the armchair. I did as requested and he moved up close till his dick was dangerously near my face.