Cometh the Storm

It was already drawing into darkness as I made my way home from another week in University. I had always loved the dark November evenings, even as a child, being cosy and warm by the open fire at home, as the winter weather beat heavily on the windows outside. Now, even as a twenty one year old, it still held the same magic it always had.

I had been brought up on our rural farm in the North of England, some miles from civilisation. Hell, our nearest neighbours were over two miles away! The farmhouse itself was some ninety years old but it had been renovated, redecorated and modernised before I had been born. I had always loved home as it had been a massive playground for me as a child.

As an only child, my father and mother had separated, then divorced only three years previously, much to my dismay. I was still angry at my father for his betrayal towards my mother and even now, I found it hard to spend time with him and his new wife in his home in Leeds. I had always been close to my mother and we had become even closer since my father had left. Mum hadn’t, to my knowledge, even considered another relationship since and was quite happy throwing herself into her work and running the farmhouse.

My uncle now tended to the daily tasks on the farm, while my mother worked part-time in the local village bank as a mortgage advisor. I spent my week at Uni studying and then returned home on the weekends, like most of my Uni friends.

My mother was in her early forties now but still in my eyes and many others, a beautiful woman. Her hair was a dark chestnut brown colour and shoulder length, framing her ever green smiling eyes and face. She was of fairly average build and about 5’6 in height, and no matter how much I would try to deny myself, a very sexy older woman with it. Even my friends agreed she was a good looking woman, much to my embarrassment I must add. Mum had maybe gained a pound or two here and there, but it only made her all the more curvaceous.

Making my way down the lane to my home that evening, I met my Uncle Joe halfway. Stopping his land-rover beside me, he wound down the creaky window.

“Another week of partying and shagging done then, young J?” he smiled at me.

“I wish!” I replied, a smirk on my face.

“Looks like we’re in for a big storm this weekend… I can feel it in the air” Joe said, cryptically. He could always sense these things, like any good farmer could.

“Ah, as long as I’m home in the warmth and comfort” I replied.

“Well, I must be getting on J. Your mother’s not long home, nice big homemade dinner waiting for you” he said, as he started to roll up the window from the cold breeze outside.

“Thanks Joe. Have a good weekend and don’t drink too much!” I said as I heaved my bag over my shoulder.

“See you on Sunday for dinner” Joe bellowed heartily from the land-rover, as he started to make his way up the lane.

I had always been known as J for some reason, rather than my proper full name of James. I didn’t mind, as I thought J sounded much cooler than plain old James any day of the week!

I soon approached the farmhouse, the rain slowly starting to fall on my head, as I welcomed the sight of my home. Upon entering, my mother was waiting for me with the usual hug and the smell of food wafting around the kitchen. As gorgeous as ever, Mum wore a full-length, green velvet skirt that clung to her hips. Her rear swayed in rhythm with her movements, as I noticed her white camisole top, underneath her lacy silk blouse. I drifted into a daydream, as I watched her prepare dinner.

* * *

It had only been in the past few years that I had fantasised sexually about her. I had my share of various girlfriends, losing my virginity at 16, but I wasn’t ready for a long term relationship just yet. I was enjoying my freedom too much and the opportunity of so many girls at Uni to choose from, I made a point of not getting too serious with anyone.

In the last year or two, I had noticed little things about Mum, especially since I had enrolled at Uni. The way she would bend over in front of me, innocently doing something in the house. Or her blouse falling open slightly, showing some boob flesh at times, as I stared back at. On quite a few occasions, I had walked to the bathroom at home, finding Mum sat on the toilet, forgetting to close the door, as she was now used to being in the house alone through the week. I usually mumbled an apology and turning red with embarrassment, would walk away trying to keep the image of her in full flow out of my mind.

A lot of the time it would lead to my jerking off shortly after, at the thought of her sitting there half-naked and peeing. It felt wrong to imagine her in this way but it was all the more arousing for me to think of her in this filthy manner. I often questioned myself, racked with guilt over my ideas of her, but I became more drawn to her over time, still curious about her.

Even in the summer past, I had watched her tending the flower beds from the kitchen window. At one stage, she had been kneeling down on all fours facing me, her boobs bouncing around, as her top swung low in motion with her breasts. As she continued her weeding, I found my dick growing with excitement at the sight before me of Mums exposed cleavage hanging below her.

Slowly working around the flower bed, she eventually had her back to me and by now I had pulled my dick from my pants. As her hips swayed gently, I imagined myself crawling to her on the grass, taking her shorts and panties down, and slowly entering her from behind, her ample tits pressing into the soil as I fucked her deeply. I imagined the sun beating down on us, as we built up a sweat of lust…

I stroked my cock back and forth, Mum totally unaware of my actions in the kitchen behind her. As she innocently continued her work, I tossed myself off only six or seven feet away, eventually spurting cum through my fingers and onto the floor. I was still a bit concerned about my growing “feelings” towards Mum but I reckoned it was just a spell I was going through. It was all innocent I told myself, as I never intended to follow through with any of my sexual fantasies with her. Besides, it was well known by some sub-Freudian concept, or other, that young males often think of their mothers sexually and I guess I was no exception to the rule. Just a phase, I told myself.

* * *

Not even bothering to unpack, my mother and I sat down to dinner, discussing all the events of the past week and whatever gossip had been happening in the village. I loved her deeply and I had become the man of the household over the last few years, since my father had left. Since starting University, we both spent most weekends together at home, just glad to be in each others company. She too had been brought up here in our family home, moving away as a young woman, only to return newly married with my father, after my grandparents had passed away.

Just after dinner that evening, my mate Brian phoned asking me to come down to the village pub for a few beers. Eager to catch up with my local pals, I had a quick shower and shave, before ordering a taxi to pick me up. I didn’t like leaving Mum all alone as the weekend was our only time together, but she would insist that I go and to stop worrying. Mum said she felt a little tired anyway, and that she planned on having an early night, so with that I headed off in the arriving taxi and into the village.

A couple of beers and scotch whiskies later on in the bar, the night had been good, and the banter even better, but I was tired and decided to call it a night. Jumping into one of the local taxis, I headed homeward, a little the worse for wear.

As we drove up to the house and into the yard, the windy, wet evening from earlier had subsided. I quietly made my way into the house, the grandfather clock striking for 11.30, as I made my way up-stairs to the comfort of my bed.

Walking to my room down the hall, my ears pricked up at a slight noise I heard. A very faint sound was coming from somewhere. Stopping in my tracks, I listened intently for the source. It was coming from Mums room.

I tiptoed towards her door, curious to know where the noise was coming from at this time of night. Surely it was too late at night for any shaving or trimming of her pussy? I laughed inwardly, at my own drunken naughty thoughts. Pressing my ear to her door, I could make out a low humming coming from inside the room. Suddenly it dawned on me. Was Mum using a vibrator on herself? God, what else could it be at this hour of the night? I quickly assured myself there was definitely a light buzzing sound going on, pausing for a brief second or two and then resuming again. My suspicions were even more confirmed as I clearly heard a slight moan or two as the bed creaked slightly with movement. My dick instantly sprung to life in my underwear.

Surprised and also a little curious, I made my way to my room. I suppose she had her own sexual needs like everybody else, but a vibrator? True, she hadn’t been with another man in the four years since my father left, as far as I was aware, but the sheer thought of her using a vibrator blew my mind! Denying the image to myself, I quickly walked away, shutting the idea out of my head. Once in the safety of my own room I undressed, got into bed and eventually dozed off, curious at my thoughts of her playing with herself only a mere room away, no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

The very next morning, I awoke around 10am, wearily dragging myself out of bed and into the bathroom. After peeing and washing my face and teeth, I made my way downstairs for breakfast. Mum was already up and about doing a few household chores. I felt slightly embarrassed about what I had heard the night before, as I approached her at the kitchen table.

“Morning Jay, sleep well honey?” Mum said, as I filled a bowl of cereal.

“Morning Mum, yeah, not too bad” I replied, still half asleep.

“I slept really well last night, after the wind and rain died down a bit. You know how much I hate stormy weather, I can never sleep properly” Mum said chirpily as she folded some clothes. “How was your night in the pub?” she enquired.

“Yeah, not too bad I guess. Bit quiet compared to Uni through the week, but a good night” I responded.

My thoughts were still on the noise I had heard the night before, the image of her playing with herself still sharp in my mind.

“I’m going into the village for a few bits and pieces shortly. Anything you want from the shops?” Mum asked.

“Nah, I’m fine Mum. Thanks for asking though” I offered her.

Mum continued clearing up and folding clothes as I poured some breakfast cereal into a bowl, watching her intently as I felt myself stiffening.

About ten minutes later, Mum left the house and made her way in the car up the lane. I was nibbling away at some toast and drinking coffee, as my thoughts turned once again to the night before. Knowing Mum would be gone for an hour or so, I cleared up and made my way back upstairs still in my dressing robe. I was curious to find out if my find from last night had any substance.

Entering Mums room, I paused and looked around momentarily, thinking of my strategy of where best to look, what’s obvious, what’s not type of thing. Instantly I homed in on the bedside cabinet. I questioned myself, the thought of what I was doing was wrong, but curiosity got the better of me. Opening the top drawer revealed a pen, some writing paper, a few pamphlets, nothing of interest. I began to feel guilty about rummaging through my Mums personal stuff, but that guilt soon disappeared when the contents of the second drawer revealed themselves to me.

Underneath a large notepad and some novels, I discovered a few books of erotic literature and at the back of the drawer a small tube of lubricant and a vibrator! It was some six/seven inches in length with a black base and pale green shaft. I was shocked and a little aroused as I cautiously reached for it, taking it from its hiding place. I ran my gaze over it, a few switches at the base indicated Lo-Med-Hi settings. I was amazed at the thought of my Mum using it, slipping it in and out of her swollen pussy as she pleasured herself. Holding it up to my nose, I could even smell the delicate waft of her pussy juice, still fragrant from its shaft. I grew hard rather quickly, her scent sending shockwaves down my body.

I flicked the switch, bringing the beast to life, pretty surprised how strong the power was, even on the medium setting. I still couldn’t believe Mum would use something like this, after all she was my mother, not some sexed up jezebel, but I saw her in a whole different light now. Turning my attention to the books, one was a collection of short stories, the other a guide to female orgasm. I kneeled down, as I flicked through their pages, reading some of the extracts of a very sexually graphic book. This was amazing stuff! Before I knew it, I had been sitting there 45 minutes, studying the books intensely, while I stroked my cock back and forth, from time to time. I would have liked to have had more time to mull them over, but Mum could be home any minute now and I didn’t want to get caught like this, I decided.

Carefully putting everything back in its place, I left her bedroom and went straight for a cold shower. My head was spinning with really dirty thoughts about my Mum as the cold water sprayed over my body, easing my eagerness to cum slightly.

It was approaching midday before Mum returned from the village. I was already outside, feeding the livestock in the sheds when she pulled up in the car. I felt awkward as she waved and smiled at me across the yard, before disappearing into the house. I told myself to calm down and be rational, it was no big deal. Trying to convince myself was near impossible though.

The day wore on, as the wind and rain returned once again, bringing darkness all around before 4.30 in the afternoon. Television and radio reports were all warning of possible storm damage in the area, as the winds began to rise to gale force outside the house. Mum and I sat in the kitchen for dinner as usual, the conversation waning unlike normal, as I fought with my internal thoughts and feelings.

“J, you okay? You seem a little quiet today, not your usual self” Mum asked as we sat across the table.

“I’m okay. Just a little tired…maybe I’m taking the flu or something” I lied to her.

“Well, don’t be overdoing it then. You’ve spent most of the day outside working at things, Joe can look after all that” Mum offered, almost apologetically.

“I don’t mind Mum, really I don’t” I said, as Mum softly sighed back at me, her chin resting on her hands.

After dinner, we both went to the living room, Mum switching on the telly as I put more logs on the fire.

It was around 7.30pm when the lights flickered once or twice, the gusts blowing at the front of the house with purpose. The power went off suddenly ten minutes later, the room now only lit from the burning fire as the telly and lights died around us. A few minutes and some searching later, we produced an old antique oil burner and some candles. It wasn’t unusual for this to happen at this time of year, especially in this part of the world, hence the need for easily found candles and matches.

Bored to tears after 20 minutes or so, with no form of entertainment, I produced a bottle of old scotch that Mum had been keeping and proceeded to pour one and drink glass after glass of the warming liquid. Mum, never one to feel left out, wasn’t keen on spirits so she opted for some red wine and before we knew it, a few hours had passed as we chatted and attempted old board games by candlelight. Mum didn’t usually drink very often, maybe a glass or two of wine at the weekends, but steadily we both got drunker as the evening went on.

Eventually finding ourselves on the floor, the sofa to our backs, we found a family album of photographs to look at. With more scotch and the heat from the fireside, I had begun to feel less edgy and my guard was let down once again as I relaxed. I began to feel less guilty about earlier that day, as we laughed together at some of the old fashions in the photos.

“Look at me in that outfit! It looks dreadful…” Mum exclaimed as she saw herself aged 21 posing somewhere on holiday.

“Ahhh Mum…it’s not that bad, I’ve seen worse outfits at Uni” I laughed, as I studied her form in the photograph.

Very slim, and beautiful in the picture, she was wearing a little orange flowery dress, the skirt short and her legs tanned from the holiday sun. Her hair, a little shorter then, sat in tight at her neck and shoulders as she smiled cheekily at the camera.

“I wish I had the body now that I had then” Mum reflected. ”Now I’m just an older woman, less looks, more droops!” she said, stunning me with her comment.

She jokingly struck a few poses, laughing at her own silliness as I watched her intently.

“I think you look really good now…I mean really, really good…for a 42 year old. What man wouldn’t want a body like yours to hold against him…I mean….” I blurted out without thinking.

Everything seemed to pause in the moment, as I drunkenly realised what I had just said. Mum seemed to be looking back at me for an eternity, as my insides where cart-wheeling around with panic.

“Awwww….that’s so sswweeet… J. I’m glad someone still appreciates me…you’re the only man in my life…for me…awwww!” Mum slurred slightly, as she smiled back at me reassuringly.

I was beginning to stiffen in my jeans as Mum moved closer to me, rubbing my cheek gently with her hand. Silence filled the room and the candles flickered, as the rain and wind beat heavily at the windows. Momentarily, we stared longingly into each others eyes, flames of passion erupting in my underwear, as Mum lent forward and planted a little kiss on my cheek.

“My little J doll…you know…you know I love you baby…you’re my special man” Mum said, as I considered what was happening, almost a look of expectation on her face.

My head was swimming. I wanted to move forward and kiss her in response, feel her body draw into mine, as I shifted towards her. Watching her mouth, her bottom lip was trembling slightly as I approached her.

“Well….its time for me to go to bed…I’m pretty tired…” Mum yawned, as I jumped back in embarrassment. She swiftly pulled herself up from her sitting position, almost too fast and falling over in the process.

“Whoa…not good…” Mum laughed, as she balanced herself again. “J you…you are a bad influence on your poor mother…naughty J!” she jokingly pointed at me, her head dizzy from the bottle and a half of wine she had just drunk.

I couldn’t believe what I had nearly just done, and Mum knew it! I had felt the spark between us when she had kissed my cheek. Mum had to have felt it as well.

The clock chimed for 1am, and Mum started to clear up around me. The wind blew ferociously outside as the rain beat at the windows. Disappointed with myself for what I had almost considered, I killed the dying embers on the fire, as Mum went back and forth from the kitchen clearing up glasses and stuff. Trying to look busy myself, Mum eventually said her goodnights and went upstairs to bed, taking the lantern with her. I proceeded to extinguish the various candles, my thoughts all messed up.

A few minutes later, making my way upstairs and without much light to guide me, I made it to the sanctuary of my own room, closing the door behind me sharply. I took several deep breaths, as my head swam round and round from the alcohol and the events and revelations of the last 24 hours. How could I face Mum again after nearly kissing her? Would this go unspoken of when we would eventually meet again in the morning? So many questions ran through my thoughts, it was becoming unbearable to think. I undressed quickly, discarding my clothes on the floor. Feeling my way around in the darkness, I fell into bed in a frazzled heap.