Mom

Mom

All characters portrayed in this story are fictitious and are over the age of eighteen and if they bear any resemblance to living or deceased persons it is entirely coincidental.

The story is about consensual sexual relations between related persons if this offends do not proceed.

From an early age when I discovered my parents wedding album one thing had puzzled me, who was the incredibly pretty woman in the picture with the man who was obviously my father, she bore more than a passing resemblance to my mother but she was devastatingly beautiful whereas my mother, bless her, was a dowdy creature who never wore make-up, cut her own hair and dressed from thrift shops?

As I aged I began to slowly realise that this woman was in fact the mother who I loved dearly, the woman who tended to my cuts and bruises with care and love but was never allowed to show just how much she loved me by my father who was a cruel, controlling ogre of a man who ruled the family home with an iron fist.

Every decision in life was his to make, Mum was never allowed to wear make-up, have frequent trips to the hairdressers or go out on her own shopping for clothes. My father had to approve everything in her life and, as I was to find out, everything in my life.

By my teenage years I had grown to despise him, there was no love between him and me. If anything came out of this relationship it was that I threw everything into my schooling as a means of spending as little time with him as possible and this fact pleased him, I was gaining an incredible education, so much so I passed exams earlier than my age should allow and left home two years early to attend university at the age of sixteen.

Four years later, with a first-class honour's degree under my belt, I scored a position with a multi-national conglomerate based in London.

During this time, I had stayed connected with Mum by telephone when my father was at work, but I never spoke another word to him from the moment I had left home.

I collaborated hard with the firm and within a couple of years I was working as a trouble-shooter for them travelling world-wide whenever problems occurred within the firm that needed rectifying.

I was about to leave on a two-year secondment to Australia when the phone call came.

"Alan, its Mum......Dad's dead."

I suppose I should have been devasted by the news, but I was not, any sympathy I felt was directed at Mum.

"Mum, I'll be home as soon as I can arrange time off, I'm supposed to be in Australia by the end of the week, but I'll see what I can do about that, ok?" I asked.

Mum replied, "Of course dear, if you can, I'd really like you to be with me if possible."

After telling Mum I would see her soon I walked along the corridor to the CEO's office, a man who I respected and who had been more of a father figure to me over the last three years than my birth father ever had.

Of course, he understood and granted me two weeks compassionate leave telling me that Australia was still on the cards, but they would have to wait a couple of weeks longer.

Next morning a taxi dropped me at the family home, and I knocked at the door.

Mum opened the door, her eyes red with tears,

"Oh Alan," she cried and threw herself into my arms, hugging me tightly in the way she had whenever Dad was not present.

The next two weeks was a blur to me, funeral to arrange, paperwork to go through, meeting with solicitor and sorting out insurances.

My father had covered himself with various life insurance policies that were going to make my Mum quite well off, to the tune of over 750k!

It was difficult trying to explain all this to her, my father had never allowed her to take part in anything financial, having money in her own bank account was foreign to her, taking her to the bank to open an account for her was a traumatic event in her life.

Before long, my two weeks were up but before I left, I bought Mum a computer with Zoom pre-installed, gave her lessons in how to use it and made her promise to contact me day or night if she needed.

Leaving was a tearful event for both of us, I loved Mum and, strangely enough, the last two weeks had been the happiest of our lives.

A few days later I was in Australia, busy sorting out the business and receiving video calls from Mum at 6am before work!

Two years went quickly, Mum seemed brighter as time passed but I could not help thinking that she was still dressing the way Father had wanted, it was difficult to tell because when she zoomed, I only saw head and some shoulder, face still devoid of make-up but at least she was laughing and smiling again.

When I returned to England, I had to spend a week in the London office attending meetings but then I had all my holidays accrued from my time in Australia to take, two months, no work just spending time at home.

The family home was on the coast, an hour's train ride from London and then the taxi dropped me off at the door just before mid-day.

A knock on the door then I heard heels clipping along the wood floor inside.

Heels! My mother always wore flats, I did not think she possessed heels, Father would not have approved!

The door swung open, I stepped back, shocked, who was this woman?

Blonde hair, styled and cut just above the shoulder, a red dress, scoop necked showing a hint of cleavage, finishing just above the knee, black stockings and four-inch heels completed the look.

More surprising was her face, made up beautifully, eye make-up, smoky and alluring coupled with bright red lipstick accentuating her full, glossy lips.

My memory suddenly kicked in, the woman in the wedding pictures, older but her.

"MUM!" I exclaimed, "Is it?"

"Yes darling, it is me," she laughed then continued, "I have a lot to tell you, now come here and hug your Mum."

We hugged then Mum planted a big lipsticky kiss onto my cheek.

"You are not wrong about having a lot to tell me," I said as she playfully wiped the smear of lipstick off my cheek.

Once inside and sitting on the sofa Mum produced a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

This was new, Father did not allow alcohol in the house, I do not even remember seeing wine glasses in the house!

Mum poured two glasses and took a big swig from hers.

"Now, where do I begin," she mused, "I realise this must be a bit of a shock to you."

I could only nod, shock, disbelief, which was only the beginning.

"I want to start with apologising to you."

I could hear emotion in her voice.

"Your father was a bastard, pure and simple, I realise that, but the fact is I loved him, he treated both of us badly and I should have stood up to him, but I didn't, for that I'm sorry, can you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive," I began, "I know you loved me; you showed me that whenever he wasn't around, I can never forgive him though."

Tears began to well up in Mum's eyes, so I threw open my arms and she melted into them. We hugged for ages, I could feel my shoulder getting wet from the tears but in time they subsided and when we parted I gently kissed Mum's cheek.

With a big sigh Mum began to smile again, after all these years it was lovely to see her smiling.

"Ok," I said, "that is the apology over, now what about this?"

Mom smiled, coyly, bit her bottom lip and began her explanation.

"Well, where do I begin, after 20 odd years this must be a bit of a shock to you."

"Not really," I began, "I saw your wedding album when I was a kid, took me a bit of time working out that the beauty in them was actually you, but I'm interested in how you came out from Dad's shadow."

"Well," she began, "this helped." Gesticulating towards the wine bottle.

"When I was in the supermarket, I bought a couple of bottles and some glasses, your father would never allow wine in the house."

I nodded and Mum continued.

"When I got home, I cooked myself a meal and opened a bottle intending to have one glass with the food, after I ate, I brought the bottle into the lounge and sat down to watch TV."

Inwardly I was giggling, thinking about Mum with the wine but wondering what transpired.

"I think I got a bit carried away because before I knew it the bottle was finished, it made me feel good, so I opened the second bottle!"

"You got hammered." I exclaimed.

"Well, I suppose so, but I could only manage one glass before I felt a bit woozy and decided I needed to go to bed."

Thinking about Mum getting drunk was making me smile, downtrodden for over 20 years and now coming out of her shell, I was pleased for her.

"That's all very well Mum but it isn't telling me how you got to the change in you." I queried.

"I'm coming to that," Mum said, "When I got upstairs getting ready for bed, I caught sight of myself in that full length mirror up in the room."

This was now piquing my attention and Mum continued.

"I was watching myself getting undressed, taking off all that hideous clothing your father made me wear, until I found myself standing naked in front of the mirror."

"Whoa Mum," I interceded, "Are you sure you want me to hear this, it is sounding very private?"

"No, it is ok, it is quite profound actually.... well, I think so."

I suddenly realised Mum was on her second glass of wine whilst I had barely started my first, wine had relaxed Mum!

"I was looking at myself thinking that for a nearly 45-year-old woman naked I was in pretty good shape, which thought made me both happy and angry at the same time."

"Your father," Mum almost spat the words out, "held me back for so long I felt as if I had missed the best years of my life."

I felt sorry for Mum, she was perfectly correct, she could have had a much better life if it were not for the controlling influence in her life, I wanted to speak up but let her continue.

"Do you want to know what I did next she asked?" Sounding triumphant.

I nodded, of course I wanted to know, thinking about Mum standing in her bedroom naked was turning me on slightly, wrong I know but strangely exciting.

"I picked up those God-awful pyjamas your father made me wear, scooped up the clothes I had just shed, opened the bedroom window, and threw them into the garden, then slept naked!"

I could not help it, I laughed aloud at this thinking my father must be rolling in his grave.

"Best is yet to come," Mum still had a triumphant note in her voice, "Next morning after breakfast I packed every piece of clothing I had into as many suitcases I could find, then called a taxi, took everything to the charity shop on the High Street and gave them the lot!"

I was processing this and asked.

"Then what?"

In all my years I had never seen Mum as happy as she seemed to be now, and I was totally enthralled with her story.

"I got back into the taxi, and he took me to the station where I purchased a first-class ticket to London, I was off on a shopping trip!"

This was my Mum who, since marriage, had never been anywhere alone and now she was off to the capital on her own.

"I hit Oxford Street and found a beauty salon first, the receptionist looked me up and down and then asked if I had an appointment, NO, I said, but I have an obscene amount of money in my purse, amazing how that opens doors isn't it?"

I, for my part, could only smile and laugh and wish I had been witness to this coming out.

"I then hit the clothes shops and boy did I hit them, after a couple I had to ask if they delivered, there was no way I could carry all the bags myself!"

"Mum," I interjected, "how much did this trip cost?"

"Well, mm.mmm, I think in all....... about15k!

"What......15k all on clothes?"

"Well," Mum replied coyly, "a girl needs a full wardrobe, doesn't she?"

I could only laugh and hug her again.

"You approve then?" she questioned.

"Yes Mum, you are a beautiful and incredibly sexy woman, I love seeing you like this after all of these years, I am so happy for you."

Over the course of the next few weeks, I had a happy time getting to know my mother all over again, yes, after over 20 years of repression it was like I had a new mother and, boy, what a change had come over her.

My new Mum was an incredibly happy and tactile person, her conversations with me punctuated with lots of giggling and arm or knee touching whenever we sat together on the sofa, every morning I was greeted with a peck on the cheek and the same each night at bedtime.

Mum had also joined a gym and had made good friends with a group of similar age ladies, often socialising with her new friends in a bar, Father must have been revolving in his grave by now, she had never been allowed friends he had not approved of and the very thought of her walking into a bar would have sent him ballistic.

About six weeks after I returned home, one Saturday morning, I came downstairs still dressed in my night attire of shorts and tee shirt to find Mum in the kitchen at the sink washing her breakfast dishes.

Mum was dressed in her gym gear, yellow tee shirt and pink shorts, and from behind she looked very sexy.

Mum was not aware of my presence until coming up behind her my arms encircled her hips and I placed a gentle kiss to her neck.

"O.o.o morning darling," she cooed, "that's a nice greeting for your old Mum."

Embolden by her giggling I continued to place a series of kisses onto her neck which caused much giggling on her part and the closeness of her to me began to give a reaction to my cock which began to swell in my shorts.

Mum must have felt this but instead of pulling away I felt her bottom grinding slightly against me.

Eventually Mum wriggled free and turned to face me, my hands were still around her hips, and she was smiling broadly.

Mum was getting ready to give me my morning kiss on the cheek so I began to turn my head slightly, before I could she took me completely by surprise and kissed me full on the lips, holding the kiss for far longer that would be deemed acceptable by society between a mother and son.

When we eventually parted, she spoke.

"Woo. that was nice," she cooed.

"Yes, it was," I replied, "really nice."

Mum smiled at me; she had a wicked, sexy look on her face.

"Another one then?" she queried.

Before I had a chance to reply Mum came in for the kill but this time her lips were slightly parted and I immediately felt her tongue pushing past my lips and teeth, it began to swirl around my mouth seeking out my tongue which it found and began to tango with.

My cock, by now, was rock hard and Mum was grinding her crotch into it, I was wondering where this was leading too.

We kept this going for what seemed like a lifetime but could only have been about two minutes until, from outside, we heard the honking of a car horn.

"That's Jenny here to pick me up for gym class, see you later."

With that Mum picked up her bag and headed out of the door leaving me with the biggest hard-on ever and a mind that was in complete turmoil as to what had just happened.

I took care of my cock, showered, changed, and headed off for a day at the beach to try to make sense of what had just occurred.

My head was still spinning six hours later when I received a text from Mum.

"Not cooking tonight, Chinese take-away good for you?"

I replied that it was fine by me then received another text.

"How about a film night after, there is a film I'd like to watch."

I replied to say that it sounded good and headed off home

Once back home I headed straight up to the bathroom for a shower to find Mum had already been there, a recently wet towel lying on the floor.

Changing into shorts and tee shirt the ringing of the doorbell announced the take-away was there, so I headed downstairs to find Mum in the kitchen already dishing up the meal.

Mum was also dressed in tee shirt and shorts but the way her large breasts moved I thought she was bra-less.

We sat and ate the meal interspersed with polite conversation, drinking wine to wash it all down.

Once it was over and cleared away, we took our glasses and another bottle of wine and retired to the lounge sitting together on the sofa

Mum flicked on the TV and turned to Netflix, heading for her watchlist she selected the film she had wanted to watch.

If my mind had been in turmoil at the events of this morning it now turned to jelly.

The film Mum had selected starred Julianne Moore and was entitled Savage Grace!

For those who know this film you will know it is about a mother and son who have an unusual relationship!

We settled in to watch, Mum snuggled up to me head on my chest, to be comfortable I raised my right arm and placed it behind her head, my hand and fingers just resting above her right breast.

I had seen this film before, so I knew what to expect so when Julianne entered the room and sat beside her son on the sofa my cock began to twitch.

"Damn," I thought, "from Mum's position she could not help but see what was happening in my shorts."

I was shifting uncomfortably trying to disguise my growing erection but when Julianne pulled her skirt up and straddled her son on screen the tent appeared.

I think I must have closed my eyes at this point because when I open them again Julianne was finishing her son off by hand.

I tentatively looked down at my mother to find her looking up at me smiling.

After what seemed an eternity, she was the first to speak.

"Has the film turned you on then darling?"

Mum's eyes were darting between my face and the tent in my shorts.

I saw the humour in all of this and replied.

"It's obvious it has." I said laughing.

"Do you want to take care of that then?" Mum enquired.

Before I could answer she spoke again.

"Or would you rather act out that scene in the film!?"

By now Mum's hand and fingers were tracing the length of my cock in my shorts.

I was totally lost for words; I could not speak.

"Take your shorts off darling, I love you, there is nothing I wouldn't do for my darling boy."

It felt as if I was in a trance, I was taking my shorts off, but I did not seem to be aware of doing it.

I was sitting next to my Mum on the sofa bereft of shorts with my cock sticking up in the air.

Mum's right hand slowly curled around my cock, and she began to slowly give me a hand job, it felt so good, better than I could have imagined.

After a while Mum stopped, she stood up and gently removed her tee shirt, her large breasts bobbed about in front of me, nipples already engorged.

Her shorts soon followed, Mum was now standing in front of me completely nude, her pussy shaven, moist, and looking very inviting.

Without saying a word, she straddled me and, grasping my cock, guided it into her luscious pussy to the hilt.

Leaning forward our lips came into contact and our tongues continued where they had left off this morning at the same time Mum began raising and lowering her hips riding my cock.

Mum rode me for what seemed like an eternity, gentle, rhythmic motions interspersed with frantic tongue involved kissing.

Eventually I could hold back no longer.

"Mum, I'm going to cum," I gasped expecting her to raise off me rather than letting me cum inside her.

I was wrong!

"Yes darling, I want to feel you cum inside me."

With that I exploded, my seed filling my mother and squeezing out down her leg, at the same time I felt my mother's pussy contract around my cock as her orgasm overtook her.

Exhausted and satisfied Mum climbed off my rapidly deflating cock and sank into the leather sofa, as I looked across at her I could see my seed escaping her pussy and forming a puddle on the seat.

After what seemed a lifetime Mum was the first to speak, looking across to me she began.

"That has probably taken you by surprise and you may even be a bit traumatised by my actions at what has just taken place between us, I owe you an explanation."