After The Obsequies

She was holding a handkerchief up to her face, in part to wipe away the tears, but also to hide her face from me.

I took her hand and said, "It's all right mum. I understand how you feel. It wasn't a bad thing you said it was lovely. I bet many mums and sons have those sorts of feelings, but never speak about them."

Through her sobs, she began to speak:

"Oh Gav, I'm so lonely. I go to bed at night and its so cold and empty, and I lay awake wanting…don't think I'm awful, Gav, I want a man there with me. I want a man I can give to and who wants to give to me. Can you understand what its like, Gav? All the years I had your dad with me, there was never a night when we didn't do it, except when I had my women's troubles."

"It was then that he went to one of his other women. I didn't really mind so long as he still wanted me. I could have had other men, but I never did Gav. I was happy with one bloke because he could give me everything I needed, and I loved giving to him. And now it all gone, and when I knew what we'd done, I was really angry not because we'd done it, but because we'd done it when we were drunk. Can you understand that, Gav?"

"Yes mum, I can understand that."

Her sobs had subsided, and she had pulled my head to her breast. I told the truth when I said I could fancy a women like her, and mother or not, I was starting to get a stiff one.

"Gav, you never did answer my question."

I knew quite well to what question she referred, and not liking myself for doing it, I pretended I didn't know.

"What question, mum?"

"Could you fancy me even though I am your mum?"

It was clear where we were heading and what the outcome was going to be if I answered truthfully. It was my turn to pause.

My head was still on her breasts and her hand was stroking my face and hair. I could smell her womanly aroma, and my stiff got stiffer and started to throb. I decided to say it as it was:

"Yes, mum, I fancy you."

"O God, boy, then don't make we wait. I'm as hot for you as an Indian curry."

That did it. I tore off her knickers and got out of my trousers and underpants, and there, on the lounge room carpet we went howling and screaming mad. We were like a couple of scratching, biting cats in a fight. I don't think I'd ever been so frantic for a woman before, and mum was beyond anything I had ever experienced in a female.

She was soaking wet with her lubricant and the second I entered her she seemed to suck me into her. She swallowed me up, gripping me with her vagina as if she'd never let me go again.

She was screaming out, "Fuck me Gav, give it all to me…put it in to me…please…"

I'm yelling back, "I'm going to fuck you to death…I'm going to spear you till you beg for mercy…"

It didn't really work out like that because we only lasted a couple of minutes. I had a load of sperm to get rid of and it wouldn't wait, and she'd been so deprived she was bucking up and down with her orgasm in no time.

We ended up gasping and still holding on to each other, me with my hands under her buttocks and she with her legs wrapped round me.

Gradually we returned to sanity. We were still holding on to each other and looking into each other's eyes. I saw love in hers. I had seen it before, but never like this. It had always been the love of a mother for her child, but now it was…what was it?

I struggled to interpret what I was seeing as she gazed at me, my penis still inside her, and she spasmodically flexing her vagina round it.

Then of course, the obvious came to me. I was seeing the eyes of a woman looking, not at a child, but a man she loved.

My world seemed to spin around me. It was as if everything in my life had been jarred loose, and was striving to realign. I had never loved a woman in anything but the sense of a son for a mother, but now, as I searched inside myself, I knew I loved this woman. I whose only interest in women had been getting their legs open, now I found myself in love with a woman many years my senior, and she my mother.

Mother was speaking softly to me.

"All right, sweetheart? Was it all right? Did you like…enjoy me?"

"It was beautiful, mum. Didn't last long enough, though."

"We can fix that, darling."

I made an attempt at humour. "And we weren't even drunk."

"No, so I'll always be able to remember this time, won't I, darling?"

Without knowing quite why, I responded, "And all the other times."

"Are there going to be 'other times,' Gav?"

"If you want them."

"Of course I do."

These were words of promise and commitment. They should not have sat well with me, as commitment to women had never been my strong point. Yet now I felt somehow comforted. It was as if I had come home, not in the sense of coming back to the house, but coming to this woman.

A whole galaxy of thoughts and emotions were racing around inside me, so I was glad when mum suddenly turned practical…down to earth.

"Sweetheart, I think its time we let each other go and perhaps had a shower. We can get around to more talk…and other things, after."

Unwillingly I withdrew from her; again, a change from my usual wish to get out and depart when I'd finished with a woman. We proceeded to shower together, and having at least temporarily had my sexual needs satisfied, again I was able to consider mum's naked body with some degree of objectivity.

As I have said, she is buxom but not fat – perhaps generous and curvaceous best describes her. There are the marks of childbearing on her thighs and abdomen. Her hair, once almost black, now streaked with gray. She has dark brown, deep set eyes that give expression to her thoughts very easily The plumpness of her face has tended to keep wrinkles at bay, and she has a tilt tip nose. It is her mouth that most attracts, it is wide with soft full lips. I made a note to remember that her mouth should have special attention paid to it.

It was her breasts that I found slightly unattractive. I have tried to describe them before, but it was only at a distance and through an alcohol-induced haze, that I had observed them then. They hang down, but not in the flat, flaccid manner that I had seen with some of the older women I had been with.

Mum's breasts seemed to still have some substance to them. One would still be able to fondle them and derive some satisfaction in doing so. The nipples were as I have described them before, brown and having little bubbles over them.

"They've done some hard work in their time," I thought. "Nourishing five kids, including me. They're entitled to show some wear and tear. I bet dad had some fun with them."

As I washed her vagina, trying to remove the residue of my love juice, I made a further note to explore that region, in great detail, especially with the aid of my tongue. Mother permitting, of course!

That was a point! I had to find out what she liked and disliked. How far would she let me go with her?

To sum up things as I saw them then, I can honestly tell you that I had often had my fantasy of the ideal woman. I suppose everyone one has their fantasy of their ideal man or woman. You can read many of those fantasies in erotic stories or see them in sexy pictures. But I'm realist enough to know that the ideal fantasy is just that, a fantasy.

I had, in the shower, a flesh and blood woman. She was real, not a flight of fancy. She wanted me and, I believed, really loved me. On the other side – the me side – I had discovered for once in my selfish life, I was in love. I wanted this woman like I'd never wanted a woman before, and much to my amazement, I wanted to give to her. The fact that she was my mother – sorry if that offends – seemed to be irrelevant.

I had been lost in reflection, and came to as mum, drying my genitals, was saying:

"Let's go to bed and have a talk, love."

I agreed that talk was in order, but hoped it would be more than that.

We climbed into mum's big double bed, and had the not altogether welcome thought that it had once been mum's and dad's double bed.

Mum snuggled up to me, and I put an arm round her. I could have started the journey to our next coupling right then, but decided that for the moment a talk was more important.

Mum started things off.

"Gav, you do believe that I really want you, don't you?"

"Yes, mum."

"You know I love you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me truthfully, darling, how do you feel about that?"

"I can't properly say, mum. I mean, I'm confused. I know it's happened between us, but how do I become my own mother's lover?"

"Gav, love is a funny sort of thing. It doesn't always fit into the pattern we are told is right and proper. It can just happen with the last person we thought it would happen with."

"I know. Mum. It's just that there's been such a…a sudden…er…sudden change in the way we are with each other."

"Look, sweetheart, I don't want you doing anything with me that's going to mess you up. I really do love you, and you don't mess up people you love."

"I don't want to mess you up either, mum."

"It's all right, love, you won't do that, I promise you. Now suppose…just suppose, instead of staying in the city when you get your week off, you come here…home. Would you do that? I mean, could you come home and be happy about it."

"I think so, mum."

"I'd be able to give you what a young chap needs, and be happy doing it, I can promise you that. I won't hold anything back from you and there won't be any other blokes while you're away."

Things were getting heavy. Mum was talking commitment and faithfulness as if we were married. This only added to the confusion I felt over the new way we were relating with each other. I wasn't sure that I wanted us to be tied together so closely.

Mum seemed to understand my dilemma, and she went on to say: "I don't want to tie you down, Gav. You're young and will probably want to marry and have kids one day. All I'm saying is, let's see if we can make a go of it."

Marrying and having kids was something that had never appealed to me, and as I thought more about mum's idea of seeing if we could "make a go of it," the more it began to look good. There'd be no binding marriage, so no problems if we wanted to bust up any time. She couldn't have babies any more, so there'd be no whining little buggers running round the place. Above all, I wouldn't have to go women hunting every time I go my week off. It would all be waiting for me here at home.

Of course, so far we'd only had sex once when we were drunk and a quickie on the lounge floor carpet. There'd been no foreplay, and in a long-term sexual relationship, it's the sex games couples play that are vital.

Mum had said she could give me what I needed, but that was a skeleton that required some flesh on it.

I know all this sounds utterly selfish, but no doubt, mum had weighed me up in a similar way. She had been married to one bloke for over thirty-two years, and perhaps she wanted to feel free in a relationship. What's more, she would get a reliable supply of sex, even if it were only one week in every three.

There was one other thing, something I have already written about, and which must be chucked into the equation, "Love." In relation to sex, for me love had never been a factor up until now. Now, having seen that love look in mum's eyes, and experiencing some strange feelings about her myself, I knew it was there in the sexual aspect of our changed relationship.

Perhaps I can best express it by saying that I had found a woman I wanted to have sex with, and wanted to go on having sex with. This had not happened to me before, and I could always have gone on quite happily from one woman to the next. Now it was this particular woman I wanted.

As we lay together in bed mum was pressing her body against me. I think that was a hint that it was time we ended the talking. She felt warm and soft, just like a woman should, and this helped me make up my mind.

"All right mum, let's do it. I'll be home every week off in future."

Her first response to this was to cock her leg over my thigh and say, "All right, you young stud, let's start finding out about each other."

She brought her mouth down to mine, so I got my hands behind the back of her head and held her into me for a long, mouth exploring kiss. Her lips were soft and wet, and her tongue battled with mine for penetration.

While this was going on I let a hand wander down to her breasts, and drawing one up from its base, it didn't seem so flabby as I thought it would.

I decided that further action on her breasts was the thing, so breaking from our kiss I went down to suck on her nipples. They are, as I have said, large and a little knobby, and at that moment, they stood out very erect. They were, without doubt, the largest nipples I had ever tasted. I think an extra dimension was added because I knew I had once sucked them as a baby, and in fact, mum was moaning out, "Suck me like you did when you were little, sweetheart."

While the suckling was in process, my hand was exploring farther down caressing her mound, then passing on to slip a finger into her opening. I was pleased to feel how wet she was.

I went back to kissing her mouth, and mum's hand had found my pride and joy, and was gently massaging it to very considerable effect. I had to exercise a lot of self-control not to penetrate her right then, but I had one other thing I wanted to do to her at this time.

I coaxed her to the edge of the bed, and getting her with her feet up on the bed and legs wide; I knelt in front of her and began exploring her genitals.

It must be clear I was preparing to engage in oral sex with her. I had given women oral sex many times before, but there was something I had never done.

When I was about seventeen an older bloke, talking about women's genitals, said to me, "Don't ever look at it, boy, it a horrible sight." I had always taken his advice, and shut my eyes when indulging in oral sex.

Now, with mother I wanted to look, to explore. Perhaps it was the fascinating thought that it was through this passage that I had made my way into the world. It was as if there was something sacred about mum's vulva. It was a place to approach with reverence.

I parted her outer lips with my fingers, and for the first time looked upon a woman's inner lips. Far from seeming "horrible" to me, they looked like beautiful pink rose petals. I next opened these inner lips and saw the entrance to her vagina. "The gateway to heaven leading to the tunnel of love," I thought rather poetically.

Such was my awe for what I was looking at, it was with great gentleness I slowly inserted a finger into her. As I did this, she gave a soft little whimper and said, "Oh God, I love you so much, Gav."

I next lifted the hood that protected her clitoris. Again, I had never actually looked at this little nub before. Now I was surprised to find it larger than I thought; like small penis.

I said nothing, but mum must have divined my thoughts because she said, "It's bigger than most, Gav. Lick it, sweetheart."

I licked over and round the little hill of pleasure, tasting her fluids; it seemed sweeter than others I had tasted.

Mum was starting to cry out loudly now, begging me, "Don't stop, darling…don't stop…please don't…"

Her words suddenly were cut off. I felt her starting to shudder, and had to hold on to her thighs to retain contact with her clitoris.

Her cries had become incomprehensible, sounding like, "Mmmm, nah, nah, ha, ma, ma." Suddenly she gave a great shriek and her whole body heaved, then began to shake with violent vibrations.

Her hands were behind my head, and she was dragging me to her. I heard her sobbing and weeping, and her lubricant came flooding out of her.

I had never experienced such a furious, intense orgasm in a woman before. It was as if a tempest was raging through her. The cries and frantic movements reached a climax, then gradually diminished. Her vocalization became comprehensible again, and she was moaning, "I love you Gav, I love you."

I had reached the point where I could hold back from her no longer. I pulled her back into the middle of the bed. Her legs were wide apart and drawn up, ready to receive me, although as it turned out, "take possession of me" would better describe what happened.

She was saturated with fluid, and I started to slip easily into her tunnel when her legs wrapped round me. Then the walls of her vagina seemed to suck me in.

It was my turn to howl and cry out, though what exactly I said, if I said anything comprehensible at all, I have never been able to tell. I do know that I wanted to express love and lust and passion for her.

Mum was working with me, suiting the rhythm of her gripping and releasing my penis with my movements. She was crying out again, "Fuck me, Gav… fuck me… Sperm in me, darling… Put it in… sweetheart."

I had reached my own explosive moment, when I felt her start to shake again, and within seconds, I was hammering my semen into her and she was screaming and crying again, her whole body jarring and jolting.

We seemed to be in the grip of something savage, almost brutal. Primitive forces seemed to be at work between us. Despite the impossibility of my fertilising her, and my own lack of desire for children, in that wild and ecstatic coupling there seemed to be the primeval desire to reproduce the species. I did not seem so much to empty myself into her, as have the juices sucked out of me by her. She seemed to be determined to have the last drop.

The climax passed, we came down from the heights to a peaceful post-coital plain. Mum still murmuring her love for me, and I was striving to find the words to describe the joy and fulfillment of our climatic moment.

I had never experienced such a deeply satisfying sexual intercourse, and I felt none of the regret or guilt that had so often followed my sexual contacts with other women. Such doubts that I had about the future of our relationship were now dispelled. As mother had said, she could give me everything I needed.

I might spice my story by telling that we came together three or four more times that night, but it would not be true. We slept wrapped in each other's arms.

In the following days we continued our voyage of discovery, a voyage that never seems to end. It is most often mother who takes the lead. Despite my many women there were things I had not experienced.

For example, on the third day of our love making, mother was sitting across me. She lowered herself onto my erect shaft and I anticipated vaginal penetration. But something was different. Penetration seemed a little more difficult, the sensation once I had entered was of a tighter hold. I looked up and saw that I was not in her vagina at all. Mum had selected anal penetration.

At first, it felt a trifle harsh, but as my own pre-cum began to lubricate, it grew smoother, and the tighter tunnel added zest to this coupling.

After a minute or so, mum reached down and took my hand. She drew it to her vagina, and placing one of my fingers on her clitoris said, "Stimulate me there, darling."

I began to move my finger round the little mound, and mum moved towards one of her explosive orgasms.

We seemed fortunate in that most times our orgasms synchronised, although at times I managed to delay my own, so as to be with her longer as she slowly came down from her climax.

Six months into our sexual relationship began our hunger for each other had not diminished. When I arrived home for my week's leave, our first act was to engage in one of our howling, screaming cat-fight couplings on the lounge carpet.

I ripped off so many of mum's underclothes that she now met me on arrival home clad only in a housecoat. "Like father like son," she said, referring to my father's early propensity for tearing off her nightdresses.