Happy Birthday Mom

It started as a joke, a childish prank, and a bit of fun. It was something to amuse my mother, Susan, on her birthday, because not only was it her day, but it was also mine. I had been a present twenty years previously and thought it only appropriate to show my appreciation to this woman who had given birth to me. There was nothing in the card shops that took my fancy, which is why I came up with this silly idea to go along with the surprise I had purchased for her.

It wasn't difficult, as some online tuitions showed; it was a simple task to scan some pictures of her onto my laptop and then, with the aid of an image editing program, morph her face onto another woman's body. Nothing rude or too risqué, though.

She is slim, with rather good legs, but upstairs, my mom is on the small side, with time and gravity taking their toll. I was sure she would see the funny side of it; the picture of the other woman I had chosen was full-bodied, with the blouse she wore straining as it displayed a large amount of breast and cleavage.

"If only," I thought, grinning to myself.

If my mother looked like that, I could easily fancy her myself.

On the day she opened it, she burst out laughing.

"Stuart! If I had that much, I wouldn't be able to walk upright."

She turned around as I fastened the clasp on the rather expensive necklace, I had bought her and then gave me a quick hug before moving off to mingle.

Our party was in full swing, with friends and family enjoying the occasion. Even my father had managed to get back for the event. He worked away mostly, only returning a couple of times each month, and leaving my mother to bring up their brood alone.

No one was counting, and I have no idea how much either I or Mom had consumed. I know it was enough to take me upstairs to relieve my bladder. After emptying it, I heard the sound of someone moving around outside as I flushed and then washed my hands. As I exited, my mother was waiting, hopping from one leg to the other.

"How did you manage to do that?" she asked hurriedly, referring to her card.

"It was easy, Mom, just a little bit of computer wizardry."

"Would you do another one? But make me look more normal. Something I could show my friends. They would love it."

I grinned and nodded as she dashed inside, and the door closed.

It wouldn't be that day; I was far too inebriated, and it would probably be late when the last guest decided to depart. But found it amusing that my mother had requested that I do more.

When I got around to it, I kept the picture mostly decent--nothing smutty if she was going to show it around. I simply placed her in a nice robe with black stockings and a hint of suspenders. Although she was showing a vast expanse of leg and thigh, no other body parts were on show as the original model posed demurely.

My mother was delighted when I presented it to her, and several weeks later she told me how her friends had found it hilarious and were requesting similar ones.

I must admit that as I worked on those pictures, there was a certain amount of arousal. There was something about images of these mature women dressed sexily rather than in the dowdy, mumsy clothes that they normally wore.

My father was away as usual when she called me into her room one evening, flourishing a couple of pictures, which she handed over.

"Your dad took these years ago. I always hated them. I just look so......" She found it difficult to explain without using words that she could not bring herself to say in front of her son.

I was astonished that she was even showing them to me. She was quite a few years younger and dressed in her underwear. Despite being partially naked, the lingerie did nothing for her, and she was a long way from appearing arousing.

I promised to work my magic, spending several nights finding pictures of women I could use. It was easy to make her bra disappear, to be replaced by a pair of quite firm-looking, jutting breasts that I presumed would have been similar to how she may have once looked. The panties she was wearing came up to her waist and appeared to have an elasticated panel, probably to hold her tummy in. With a clever bit of morphing, they were replaced with little more than a thong, and her stomach flattened. After clearing any blemishes, I also removed her glasses, which made her look years younger.

Surprisingly, when they were finished and I gazed at her pictures, it gave me an erection. I could never imagine thinking of my mother sexually, but staring at her now, she looked quite arousing and highly erotic, and I began to wonder how much of her figure she had kept.

She certainly seemed to appreciate my efforts.

"Oh, my God, Stuart. I look...... "

"Hot!" I blurted it out. "You look hot, mom."

She laughed, but at the same time, she gave me a strange look.

When she hugged me, I was embarrassed. After looking at the two pictures of her topless, when she suddenly pressed herself against me, I had an unfortunate accident; my cock began to stiffen. Suddenly, I was wondering what I should do. Staying in my present position meant she would be able to feel it, and if I moved, she would know why I had put a space between us.

I'm sure she hugged me for longer than necessary; her belly pressed tightly against what was going on below, and when she did release me, my face was flushed.

Thankful to escape, I retired to my bedroom and my computer. Despite printing out the pictures for her, the files were still on the machine. I brought one up, trying to decide whether to use it as wallpaper but deciding it was a bad idea. However, after doing those for her, I couldn't help but go a step further.

In the next picture I produced, she was completely naked. Where the others had been demure, this one was graphic: my mother lounging with her legs open as her fingers gaped her pussy.

She wasn't shown this image; that would be a step too far, I considered. But it did get plenty of use in the coming days. The more I looked at it, the more I felt the need to masturbate; the sight of her naked inflamed my lust. As my hand slid up and down my shaft, I could feel the increased arousal as I imagined sinking it into her pussy. In my fantasy, she acted like a whore, her legs opening wide as she coarsely encouraged me to shag her and fill her cunt with my cum.

I instinctively knew that what I was imagining was wrong, but it was so incredibly arousing that I just couldn't help myself and produced more images of her in delectable positions. Most I kept on my laptop, but a couple I printed out and cropped smaller so that they slid easily inside any of my books or magazines.

It wasn't an infatuation with her. I knew that what I imagined would never happen; it was just something that I used to attain release.

At twenty, I was attending college regularly, and my siblings were still finishing their schooling. Mom didn't work, and my father was still away, as usual. Her pictures were well hidden, or at least that's what I thought.

What I hadn't counted on was my mother deciding that all of the bedrooms needed a good cleaning. Perhaps if I had kept mine tidier, she may have missed it, but it was a mess, with clothes, books, and all of my bits and pieces were strewn everywhere--a typical lad's room.

Susan collected all of her cleaning materials together, carrying them upstairs along with the vacuum cleaner. Glancing into each of the rooms, it was obvious that Stuart's was the worst, and so that was where she decided to start. Just picking up all of the discarded clothing and putting the pile into the wash basket was a significant improvement. Books and magazines were piled on the bed, and then she removed ornaments so that she could dust them and the shelves.

With the items replaced, she sorted through the books, wiping each one and putting them back on his bookcase. She was stacking the magazines when something dropped out of one of them, landing face down on the floor. She just picked up the papers and placed them on top of the pile as she stripped his bed and made it again with fresh linen. After hoovering, she moved the cleaning materials to another room, coming back to her son's just to check that she was happy and hadn't missed anything.

It was just a pure coincidence that she turned the two pieces of paper over and was shocked to discover pictures of herself. She knew Stuart must have created them, but these were not like the others; they were definitely pornographic. Susan sat on his bed as she glanced at one and then the other. She was disturbed that he had made them, but at the same time, she found it quite stimulating that this was how he saw her.

She wished that she still had a figure like the women in the pictures. Yes, she still had good legs, and as a young woman, she had been reasonably pretty. For many years, however, she'd had something of a tummy--those high-waisted panties in her pictures--trying to hide it. But it was her breasts. She had never been big, but after breastfeeding and with age, they had unfortunately sagged, and it was only her bra that made her look as though she still had a bosom.

She couldn't be angry with him. What he had done was wrong, but it was also nice to feel that someone, especially a young man of his age, should still find her attractive.

She placed them back inside a magazine but had no clue as to which one they had come from as she moved on to other rooms. All day, when she had five minutes, she would pop back and look at them. They were so well done that it was almost impossible to tell that she had not actually posed for him. She was going to have to have a word, whether she wanted to or not. If her husband ever saw them, there would be hell to pay.

As Susan worked, thoughts would pop into her head. The more they did, the more disconcerted she became. Her son was looking at naked pictures of her, even if he had constructed them himself. A sudden thought made her shiver: what else was he doing with them? And then the image entered her mind. She did not know for certain, simply guessing what he wanted them for. She remembered that after their party, when she had hugged him, there had been a definite something pushing against her, and it was only afterwards that she suddenly realised what it was.

Opening the bedroom window, she stuck her head out of it.

"Christ! It's bloody hot in here." The flush she was feeling was not confined to her face. It felt like her whole body was on fire, and there was a definite sensation between her legs.

It took her by surprise. How many years had passed since she last had a sudden urge to masturbate? Susan felt highly aroused, conscious that her pussy was leaking as a hand went beneath her dress and her fingers felt the dampness of her panties.

She tried to resist the urge, concentrating on her work. But it refused to diminish until, eventually, she gave in as she headed for her bedroom. "Ten minutes," she told herself.

In the room, she rummaged in the bottom of her wardrobe. There was a box of seldom-worn shoes, and buried beneath them was a toy that no one knew about, not even her husband. Susan withdrew the vibrating rubber cock and twisted the bottom to make sure it still worked. She felt naughty as she removed her panties, hitched her skirt up to her waist, and stretched out on her bed.

She did not need the pictures of herself; instead, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine someone. It didn't work; immediately, images of Stuart appeared. When her hand tentatively touched her pussy, it was his hand. When her fingers invaded her passage, it was his fingers, and when she inserted the toy, it was her son towering over her as he penetrated her cunt.

The vibrations, plus the in-and-out thrusting, soon had her arousal soaring. She tried to dismiss her thoughts, but they refused to budge. All Susan could think of was her son fucking her.

When she climaxed, her hips rose from the bed, and her legs clamped together as the cock continued to vibrate inside her. Her orgasm seemed endless, and her mind played tricks as she was convinced Stuart had just cum inside her.

Afterwards, she was distressed, feeling disgusted that she had satisfied her urges by thinking of her son fucking her. When she was able, she made herself decent and continued. But she had lost interest now; no longer was the cleaning something she wanted to get done; it had become a chore.

The younger ones were eating their tea when she motioned to Stuart that she wanted to speak to him upstairs.

I had been dreading this moment. Arriving home from college, I found my room spick and span; my first instinct was to search for the pictures of Mom, going through the magazines until I came across the one, I was convinced that I had left them in. Perhaps I'd made a mistake? Because they weren't there. Starting at the top of the pile, I shook each one, the images falling from the fourth one I picked up.

Now I wasn't worried; it was just a niggle. Had I just gotten it wrong, or had she discovered them? Feeling nervous as I descended, she gave me no clue as to whether she had come across them or not. And then she caught my attention and pointed upstairs.

I felt fidgety and sick as I ascended the stairs and headed for my room while she followed behind. Sitting on my bed, she sat close and took my hand.

"I don't really look like that, Stuart. I wish I did, but those images are far from the truth."

"That was it. She had found them," I thought, my face turning crimson.

"It is very sweet of you to imagine me like that, but it is also wrong. I'm not going to ask what you want them for, but I can guess."

At first, I was too embarrassed to say anything, but the more we spoke, the easier it became. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought that one day I would sit with my mother and discuss sex--and not just sex but her body as well.

It felt natural when I eventually said,

"But you can change some things, Mom. What about contact lenses instead of glasses? And you could always have a boob job if you wish. Both of those would make you look younger. You have the money your parents left you.

Susan had been an only child, and when her parents passed away two years earlier, they left her a sizable sum as well as smaller amounts to him and his siblings.

"You could use my money if you wanted. There is enough there to get them done."

"I couldn't do that, Stuart. It is your money."

"I don't mind, Mom, if it makes you feel happy."

Susan's heart swelled, but would he be saying that if he knew what she had done that afternoon?

"I'm not telling you off. But if your father found them, there would be trouble. Anyway, when would I find time to get a boob job?" She laughed and tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"The summer break. It's not far off, and I would take care of everything for you and look after the kids."

"He was serious!" Susan thought. "Let me think about it. Now come on, let's get some tea."

In bed that night, alone as usual, she did indeed give it some serious thought. The idea of having a decent bosom was an exciting prospect; was it something she could entertain? She had spent years wearing glasses, thinking nothing of it; contact lenses had never entered her head.

Over the weekend, she consulted with him often. "If I borrow your money, I promise to pay it back. It will just be easier because your father will not notice. Could you also look up some clinics for me? I wouldn't know where to start."

I did all the work for her once she decided to go ahead. I found a recommended place, made appointments, and withdrew the money she needed.

We see very little of my father during the summer break, and so it was all organised for her to have the operation as soon as we all broke up from college and school. The stay in the hospital was only a couple of days, and then she was back home. But her recovery would take up the best part of my holidays.

Time passed, the pain receded, and eventually, she was able to start doing things again. When my father returned, the bandages had gone, but she still had to wear a support bra for the moment. And then we were into the autumn, with the kids back at school and me back in college.

Mom had gotten contact lenses, and I began to notice her bosom. She hadn't gone overboard, but it was obvious now that she had tits, though whether my father noticed, I have no idea. It was between our return and Christmas that she invited me up to her room one Saturday afternoon. My siblings were out with friends, and it was just me and Mom in the house.

"Would you like to see?" she asked. "After all, you paid for them."

To say I was stunned is an understatement. My mother was asking if I wanted to see her tits. Of course, I wanted to say yes, but would that give her the wrong impression?

"It's okay; it will be our secret," she said with a grin as she started to unbutton her baggy blouse.

Reaching around back, she unhooked her bra and let it fall, as I was faced with a perfect pair of jutting titties. I'm sure my mouth was open as I stared.

"You can touch them if you would like."

They felt firm but, at the same time, smooth and soft. What I had been offered was an invitation to touch them, but my excitement got in the way as I allowed my thumb to slowly rub and arouse her nipple. Her eyes closed briefly as the teat became erect and joined the bulge in my pants as I got a hard-on.

"You shouldn't really do that, Stuart."

But with the dreamy look on her face, she hadn't told me to stop. Cupping one of her boobs, I applied pressure with my finger and thumb to the erect teat, a growl of pleasure rumbling from her throat. Her eyes opened, and she glanced down at what I was doing, her hand suddenly settling on my thigh, very close to my groin.

Christ! My cock was throbbing as she continued to let me fondle her new breasts, and then I nearly jumped a mile as her hand moved and caressed my prominent bulge.

Our faces could have only been inches apart. Who would make the first move, I wondered? As it was, I did, closing the distance as our lips met.

I expected to be told to stop. To hear her voice rise, maybe in anger. Instead, she returned my kiss as our lips and mouths began to move together. No word of a lie; I wanted to fuck her.

She was fumbling with my trousers, and then I felt her hand slide inside as she gripped my cock. Was she going to be disappointed, I wondered? I had nothing special--just a normal penis. But she seemed content as she eased my skin up and down. Reticent of abandoning her tits yet, my other hand went to her knee and then eased itself beneath her skirt and up her thigh. She moaned softly when, at last, I touched her pussy through the smooth material of her knickers.

I was still convinced my hands would be pushed away and I would be told to stop. What I wasn't expecting as she broke away was to be asked to undress.

I'm sure that we were both as nervous as each other. Would I be disappointed to see her in the flesh? Would she be averse to going further once she saw me naked? Apparently, neither of us were, as we stretched out on the bed face-to-face.

"You need to be tender with my tits yet, Stuart. As for the rest of me, you can do what you want."

What I wanted was to kiss her again. Her lips tasted sweet and succulent. She pressed her breasts into my chest, and I pushed my throbbing erection against her mound.

It had sounded strange hearing her call them her tits, but it soon wore off as our tongues invaded each other's mouths. Doing as she asked, I was gentle with her breasts. As for the rest of her body, I was frantic to explore it, and so I took her at her word. Pushing her more onto her back, my hand moved downward, Mom opening her legs as it delved between them, and I got my first feel of her pussy.