Falling for My Mum Ch. 01

"Jesus Christ," I said to myself but loud enough for my colleague to hear. He looked over at me as I hurriedly slipped my phone back into my pocket.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, just an email from a friend," I said casually and made my excuses for what was becoming my daily visit to the office toilets for purposes other than those for which they were intended.

The next couple of days came with further new photos – candid, risqué but always clothed. I'd seen your breasts, magnificent orbs of flesh, in some of Dad's favourites but you clearly weren't ready to send me ones of them taken especially for me, not yet anyway. At home, even without Dad there, the topic of our secret correspondence remained tacit. It was driving me mad, I was in a daze half the time, a fog in which the only thing that was visible was you in the poses that you had sent me. Often, when I looked at you at home, I found myself mentally undressing you, wondering what you were wearing beneath your outer layer, now often knowing what you were wearing which was even more delicious torture. Still, though, we each remained silent, neither of us prepared to breathe openly about our increasingly complex and intense feelings.

Things changed on a Saturday ten days after Dad had gone away. He wasn't back for a few more days. It was a warm and sunny July afternoon and I was playing cricket for my local club, as I often did in the summer. You had come to watch some of the match and I saw you strolling around the outfield looking glamourous in a lime green summer dress that was low cut but flowing, aviator sunglasses, and wedged wicker sandals, easily putting the other wives and girlfriends into the shade. "Other" wives and girlfriends? Jeez, what was I thinking? I needed to get my head straight. We won the game early and I headed to the Long Room bar, while you told me you were going to go home and sit out in the sun a bit longer.

"Make sure you put some sun cream on," I advised. You looked at me strangely, almost like a predator looks at her prey and then smiled a sleek, satisfied smile.

"Don't worry darling, I'll be all of a lather," you said quietly before giving me a peck on the cheek and heading off. My eyes were trained on your arse as you left the Long Room, gliding through the packed bar. God, I had it bad.

I'm not a big drinker and tend to drink my pints slowly. Still in my cricket whites, I headed home about an hour and a half and a couple of beers later. When I opened the door, you were nowhere to be seen in the house. Remembering that you had said you were going to sit outside, I walked into the conservatory, the one room in the big Victorian house that you really liked, and saw you in the garden. I had to grip the table to keep myself upright.

I'd seen you in bikinis before, years ago when we still used to go on family holidays together and long before I'd developed my obsession with you. I'd seen this bikini before – you were sporting it in one of the 'favourites' collection. However, in the flesh, as it were, it was something else entirely. It had thin black and gold stripes and the top had a halter neck. Between each cup of the top was a fabric-covered hoop which held the two halves together and through which one could gaze deep into your splendid cleavage. Under the hoop were strings of further fabric tied into a bow. Between the top and the bottoms lay an expanse of tanned, toned flesh that glistened in the late afternoon sun and shone through the sun cream. Your diamond belly stud almost winked at me I swear. The bottoms were full, the same fabric and design as the top, and the front and back panels were held together by a hoop of either side which again gave a glimpse of tantalising flesh beneath.

Sunglasses on, you were reading 'Middlemarch' (it was always your practice to re-read two classic books every summer), one leg drawn up, the thick book propped up on your knee. You looked up and saw me standing there in the unlit conservatory staring at you. You smiled and crooked a finger to beckon me out. I stood frozen to the stop. The only movement that my body seemed capable of was the definite thickening and lengthening of my cock in the white cricket trousers I had on.

With a super human effort I tore myself away and went straight to the downstairs cloakroom. Shutting the door but forgetting to lock it, I tugged down my zipper and pulled out my cock. Tears of frustration in my eyes, I began furiously to work my cock over. It was long, thick and angry looking. Even as I wanked with visions of you in that bikini filling my head, my mind was trying to reach me. What are you doing? It screamed. This is your own mother, you can't be in love with her, you've got to pull yourself together, this can't go on, it just can't.

"Tom, are you ok?" I heard your voice and your knuckles rapping on the door. I couldn't reply. "Tom, open the door."

"Please Mum, go away, I'll be fine," I stammered, "Just felt a bit funny that's all, just the sun."

"Don't bullshit me Tom Moore," you said sharply and you opened the door. Unthinkingly, instinctively, I spun round to face you and my angry cock pointed directly at you, almost accusingly, making you plainly aware of what you were doing to me. You could see the tears brimming in my eyes and you closed the distance between us. You enveloped me in a long hug, kissing the side of my head. It would have been motherly were it not for the rather obvious hard piece of flesh that was now pressing into your bare stomach. "You poor thing," you breathed. "I've been torturing you, I'm sorry darling, I didn't know. I thought...thought...well never mind."

With that, you took my hand and lead me back into the conservatory, my cock still stiff and bouncing ahead of me as you padded ahead. As we reached the conservatory, you lay down on the leather chesterfield sofa, reclining like some classical goddess of erotic love and staring up at me.

"I've led you on for too long Tom," you said soothingly. "I know you've been jerking off over me for months. I want to see it for real, I *need* to."

Slowly, as if in a trance, I reached down to my cock, my fist closing around it, feeling its familiar weight in my hands in a situation that could not be more unfamiliar. I wasn't sure where to look, I just knew I wanted to look everywhere – at your golden thighs, your flat stomach, the swell of those glorious breasts, but it was when I glanced into those hungry but caring eyes that I couldn't look away. I'd stared into your eyes in the photos so often that it somehow seem natural to look at them again when you were there before me in real life. The realness, the vivacity of those crystal blue eyes, however, drew me in and I was lost in them as my hand worked my cock far below.

"Oh God, Mum," I croaked and fell to my knees before you, no longer able to support my own weight, pushed down into a worshipping position as if by an invisible hand.

"Yes, Tom, my boy, my beautiful boy," you cooed gently, "it's ok, you can do this, I want you to," you told me.

"I'll cum Mum," I gasped desperately and I swear your eyes gleamed.

"Yes darling, cum for Cat, cum for Mummy, now!" The last word was an order and, like a good boy, I obeyed. Placing a hand on your thigh to hold myself up I groaned and felt the cum rushing through my cock and spurting out two big long ropes of white cum, then another and another. One landed on your stomach, another on your bikini bottoms and the last two on the leather sofa just under your raised thigh.

Silence descended on the room, the only sound was my own ragged breathing catching in my throat. I looked up at you beseechingly. You simply smiled and leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead. You then swung your legs off the sofa and walked softly, silently out of the room.

* * * * *

My emotions were a blur. Had that really happened? Surely not. It was only by looking down and seeing my shrinking cock smeared with excess cum that I could truly believe it. I cleaned myself up and made myself decent and waited for you to return. And waited. It was about 20 minutes before you came back but it felt like 20 hours, so frantic were my mixed up thoughts.

When you came downstairs you had tied a black sarong around your waist which fell to around you knees and had slipped a white t-shirt on. You still looked alluring, just less wanton than before. I could see sadness and compassion in your eyes. Here we go, I thought, she's come to let me down gently. Well, at least it's not a screaming match and her throwing me out on my ear.

You walked up to me and put your arms around me. It wasn't a lover's hug yet the intimacy of it meant it wasn't exactly a motherly hug either – something betwixt and between, very apt for where we had been in our relationship for weeks. Breaking the embrace, you took my hand and led me back to the Chesterfield. Sitting down, you crossed your legs and patted the leather seat next to you.

Cautiously I sat down, my hands awkwardly in my lap. You turned slightly to face me and I couldn't help dropping my eyes to those long, smooth legs. You blew out your cheeks, clearly trying to work out where to start. "I'm sorry that we haven't talked about what's been happening these last few weeks. It's my fault, I'm the grown up here," you began but I shook my head.

"Mum, we're both grown ups. I'm not a kid anymore. Sure, I'm not claiming to be the most mature or sensible guy in the world but I'm twenty-three," I told you firmly but not crossly. "I know and knew what I've been doing, you don't need to put this on yourself." You looked at me thoughtfully and then gave a small nod.

"You're right, I'm sorry again," you said with a sad smile. "The fact remains, however, that *we* should have talked about this before we let it get as far as we did. I shouldn't have encouraged you but I didn't realise, not until tonight, just what it was doing to you. I enjoyed the attention, the thought that a handsome young guy line you could still find me attractive – hell, it even seemed to make you father notice me again," you added with a bitter laugh.

"You weren't to know Mum, I...I wasn't clear with you, wasn't straight about my feelings." Again you paused and I could see you trying to master your emotions.

"Perhaps not, but will you be now, Tom, if I ask?" I looked at you, paused, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes Mum, I'll be straight," I said firmly. What did I have to lose now, I reflected? I'd rather you knew the truth, that I felt myself in love with you, than have you suspect that I had a lustful obsession with you.

"Thank you," you said and stroked my face then withdrew your hand embarrassed. "Sorry," you said. I grasped your hand and held it, stroking it gently, feeling it's smoothness beneath my hand fingers.

"Please, don't be Mum. Don't feel you can't be natural with me." You smiled.

"You're right, I'll try, I just feel strange, odd, like you are somehow the same boy I've always known and loved and yet a man I'm just getting to know, flirting with. It's so strange, I don't know what to think." You paused, looking a little lost and I squeezed your hand again. You looked back at me, your head tilted slightly to one side. "Tommy," you said softly, using the diminutive nickname that I only allowed you to use. "Tell me how you feel about me."

There is was then, the request to blow open what we had been dancing around for weeks. And I had promised to be honest. I blew out my cheeks and squeezed your hand again.

"I love you, Cat," I said, using your own name as I wanted you to know, to understand that it was Cat that I loved. That you were my mother added a layer of complication and, as a result of my extensive 'research' into incest porn, an added frisson of taboo and excitement, but it was Cat the woman that I wanted. "I love you as my Mum, of course, more than anything, but I have had such strong romantic feelings towards you. You're my best friend, you're my guiding star, the woman I think of last thing at night when I close my eyes and the one who first enters my mind when I open my eyes in the morning. I see things that make me smile and that I think will make you smile or interest you and I just want to call you and tell you and hear your voice and listen to your laugh. Finally, I...I find you maddeningly attractive Mum. Everything you do, everything you wear and the way you wear it drives me wild." I paused and looked up into your eyes as I'd given my speech to your hands. I could see tears there. "I suppose I should stop now before I say something really stupid!" I said, half in jest to try to lighten the mood, in that terribly English way of making a joke of something deadly serious.

You got up and walked over to the table, placing your hand on it, gripping it hard and fighting to control your emotions, unwilling or unable to look at me. I could see your shoulders rising and falling as I couldn't help but admire the contours of your back and bottom as it thrust out, unknowingly I'm sure, towards me. Eventually, having composed yourself, you turned back to me.

"How long have you had these 'feelings'?" You asked and I could almost see the quotes around the last word.

"It's been months since I realised but, deep down it's been much, much longer. Somehow I think I've always felt this way, I've only just seen clearly enough what's been right in front of my nose. I'm sorry Mum, I know it's unusual."

"Unusual?!" You cried. "Tommy, it's incest. You do know that incest is illegal right?" I nodded. "And unnatural and just...just wrong?" You looked so confused and unhappy, I just wanted to take you in my arms and hold you close and kiss it all away. I knew, however, that that probably wasn't a good idea at this moment.

"I know it's illegal Mum, of course I do. It's not everywhere though. Some places recognise that you can't help falling in love. We're two adults - I'm not a child, I know my own mind & what I want and that, Cat, is you. If you don't feel the same or don't think that you ever could, I understand. I know it's not normal but lots of things that are good aren't normal. Do you feel anything that's not normal for a Mum to feel?" I asked and you shifted uncomfortably against the table and looked down at your feet.

"I...I don't know. Don't know what I feel. I'm confused Tommy. I was, I am flattered. I'd forgotten what it was like to be wanted, and it was nice to feel that again but...well," you fingered your hair anxiously, "I...I wasn't thinking straight. You're my son darling, a mother isn't supposed to...to,"

"To what Mum?" I interjected and you looked straight at me.

"To think that way about her child," you replied.

"Have you? Do you? Think that way about me?" You looked away again.

"I...I don't know. Yes, yes I suppose I have," you said quickly, "but I shouldn't have...shouldn't have let myself be so silly, so selfish."

"No," I stood up and closed the gap between us in a couple of strides. I took your hands in mine and roses them to my lips to kiss them. You half resisted but allowed me and gave me a small smile. "No Mum, this isn't your fault. You deserve to feel special, to feel wanted. You're an amazing woman, a beautiful woman and you've been neglected far too long." I swung your hands gently in front of you, wanting to pull you into a hug but knowing that it might frighten you away. You blushed slightly at my compliments which made you look even more heartbreaking.

"You shouldn't say such things angel," you said softly, in a low, almost playful tone. I shrugged.

"Perhaps, but I do and I will. I love you and I want to be with you." You looked lovingly at me in wonder and then shook your head sadly.

"What about your father? How could I, how could we do that to him?"

"Dad's neglected you for years Mum but he's your husband. In the end it's up to you not to me. I'm not married to him, you are. All I can say Mum is that I am yours, always and forever if you want me. If you don't or can't, I'll understand but I'll have to go. I don't mean that as blackmail to try to force you, I just know that it would be best for all of us and I'll try to think of you just as my brilliant Mum again."

You freed your hand and stroked my face gently. "I..." You paused and leant in slightly. God, this was it, you were going to kiss me. Your eyes started to close and I saw your gold eye shadow that matched your hidden bikini, and I saw your red, red lips begin to pucker. Fuck, I thought, this is really happening. "I need to think. I can't do this now Tommy darling. I need time." I could see the tears pricking at your eyes again. I leaned in and kissed the corner of your eye, tasting the salted drops in my lips, noticing the creases of your little crow's feet and how they gave your face a softness. I pulled back and smiled.

"I understand Mum, I do." I said earnestly. You placed your hand on my chest and you must have been able to hear my heart thumping fit to burst my ribs.

"Just a little time angel," you said softly. "I'm so confused that's all. My head's saying one thing and my heart and body something different. I just need to think and to listen." I embraced you, holding you close, smelling your honey blonde hair, the faint tang of your perfume and feeling your warm body against mine, your breasts squashed into my chest. I knew how hard I was but, rather than pull back awkwardly, I let your feel it, strong and rigid, resting against your tummy. We stood there, I don't know how long for, and, just as I was beginning to wonder if we might melt into each other, you broke away and were gone again.

I waited, watching you disappear, steeling myself not to go after you, to give you the time and space for which you had asked. After a little while, I stumbled into the living room in a daze, barely registering what was happening. I sat in front of the TV, watching the highlights from that day's action at Lord's in the Test Match, only half aware of the events. Afterwards there was an action film the plot of which I couldn't begin to tell you now or then.

I went to bed around 10.30. I heard the shower going in your ensuite. I leant my head against the door to your room and closed my eyes. I sighed as I imagined you in there, the hot water gushing down over your sensuous body, picturing the droplets glistening on your tanned, toned skin. With a little moan, I dragged myself away and into my own room.

It was hot that night and I lay there in just my boxers trying to get to sleep. My mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour, wondering what you were thinking, different scenarios, some good, some awful, flashing through my brain. The suspense was killing me. It felt like the night before my A Levels and my finals rolled into one and multiplied by a thousand.

Eventually, finally, I fell into a fitful, shallow sleep. You came to me again in my dreams. I could see you, sense you next to me, would I ever be free of this? I could feel my cock rising, stretching for you and the head pressing into your palm.

"Oh Mum," I sighed.

"I'm here Tommy darling," I heard you whisper beside me and I smiled in my sleep, feeling safe and loved. I felt your hand close around my cock, inside my boxers and sighed. Yes, this was what I wanted, what I had dreamed about, what I was dreaming about. I felt the warmth of your palm and fingers as they opened and closed around my hard, smooth shaft. It felt so real, so tangible. I could feel myself waking. No, I thought, don't wake up, please don't wake up, I want to feel this a little longer. But, as always, I couldn't will sleep back again and I was awake even though my eyes remained closed in silent protest at my mind's consciousness.

I was awake, so why could I still feel your hand and warmth around my cock and why did it still feel so fucking good? My eyes shot open and there you were, leaning over me, your blonde hair falling forward, your breasts riding firmly and proudly in a silk red slip that lay high on your creamy, sun-kissed thighs. Your calves were tucked under your bottom and, as I looked down, I could see that your long fingers were clasped around my cock. I looked back up at you, my eyes wide in the gloom of the room. "Mum?" I croaked. You put a finger of your free hand to my lips.