Mother and Son - A Loving Experience

This story took place some thirty years ago. It is a real story, and it is a long story.

All of the people featured in it have since passed away, except for myself.

Jen, my ex-girlfriend, died suddenly in her sleep a few years after the events in this story took place. She only was 36 at the time, and although we had been separated for quite a while I mourned her death for years.

My mother died three years ago at the age of 82, and John, her second husband, passed away a year later.

As for myself, I'm doing good. I think I have a rich life, filled with deep meaningful experiences, both sexual and non-sexual.

If you have any thoughts, comments or suggestions about the story you are about to read, please share them with me.

Have a good day.

*****

"Alright, I"ll see you soon, then."

"Fine," my mother replied. "In the meantime, take good care of yourself."

As I laid down my phone I slumped back in my chair. I had been postponing this conversation with my mother for a while, even dreading it. Telling your mom you are breaking up with your girlfriend is never that easy, especially since my mother really liked my girlfriend, Jen. Loved her, actually.

As I had, obviously. Jen and I had been living together for the last ten years, and mostly it had been a lot of fun. For the past two years or so the fun had dwindled however, and irritations and quarrels had occurred more and more frequently. After a good talk (and some interesting therapy sessions) we had decided it would be better if we'd split. There still was a lot of love between us, and on occasion we still had amazing sex together, but there wasn't a point in continuing the relationship and only damaging what was left of it in the process.

My mother had been nothing but sympathetic however, and that had been a real relief. Since my father suddenly died, around the same time I started living with Jen, my mother and I had been growing closer, so I really shouldn't have worried, but I did anyway. I was clearly feeling guilty about the break-up.

On top of all her sympathy, my mother also provided me with a solution for the biggest problem I was facing at that moment.

After we decided a break-up was best for us, Jen told me she didn't want to keep living in our apartment. However, looking for a new place for herself would take some time, and in the meantime she asked me to give her some space. So I had been crashing at various friends' houses for a few days each, sleeping on the couch or in a spare bedroom, had there been one, hopping from friend to friend.

In our telephone conversation my mother told me that she would be delighted if I wanted to use her guest-room for as long as I needed for Jen and me to sort things out. Doing so would also put a 200 miles distance between me and my ex-girlfriend, and that would mean we wouldn't bump into each other unexpectedly. I'd like that. My workplace (I was working as a lawyer for a big government organization at that time) was smack dab in the middle of where I had been living and where my mom lived, so the commute there would be roughly the same. After giving it some thought - must have taken me no more than half a second, to tell you the truth - I gladly accepted my mom's offer.

So there I was, 32 years old, packing my things to go live with my mother, once again.

After my father unexpectedly passed away my mother had moved to another, smaller, house than where they had been living together and I had grown up in. The old house was nothing but big - we'd sometimes refer to it as The Mansion. Living there alone had made her feel uncomfortable, so she sold it and went for something that suited her more. With the money she made with the sale of the old house and a generous amount of life insurance paid after the passing of my father she was doing fine for herself. My mother now lived in a lovely two-bedroom cottage-style house, with a big garden providing lots of flowers and privacy.

A while after the death of my father my mother had dated a few times. She always had taken good care of herself, so - even at her present age of 55 - she looked really nice, and she always drew plenty of attention from men. I even met one or two of her lovers when I visited her. But none of them stayed around for more than a few months - I'm sure my mother grew tired of them quickly and sent them on their way. Now she seemed to be happy living single. She had gotten a job as a hostess at a convent for nuns that was rapidly turning into a nursing home, given the average age of the nuns living there. She didn't need the money, but my mother was brought up in a religious home, and the habits and customs of the nuns - and the company of only women - suited her really well.

----

Living together with my mom proved to be a real joy for the both of us. We both had our own lives, but we would also enjoy each other's company, listening to music, reading a book or just chatting away. We both liked to cook, so we took turns and our meals together were always nice, both of us enjoying a glass of wine to accompany them.

When my mother bought her new house she had some landscaper design and build a beautiful garden for her, providing a lot of colorful flowers and a lot of privacy, and she always liked to work in it, as she had done at the old place. However, after living there for almost ten years, some major maintenance and upgrading of the garden was due, cutting a dead tree here, building a new tool shed there and more things like that. Since I was staying at her house for free I was glad I could do something in return for her, enjoying the physical work myself, so I offered to help her with it. She seemed to be very happy with my offer. "That would be really nice." she said. "Let's see what we can do this weekend!"

Working together also always had been easy between the two of us. When I grew up we had spend long days together in the garden of our old house, so there was an almost instant resuming of our earlier roles. My mother was more the planner, pointing out what she wanted to be done and doing the lighter work and I provided the required muscle for the more heavy work.

However, spending the last years mostly seated in an office, I lost some of my strength and stamina, so towards the end of that first Saturday all my muscles were complaining loudly, and so was my lower back. After moving a large boulder to its new place I stretched my back, supporting it with my hands and groaning a bit.

My mother looked at me, smiled, and said, "Let's call it a day. We did a lot today, I'm really pleased." And then she added, "If you want, I"ll give you a massage to ease the pain a bit, like when you were little." She had done so sometimes when I had helped her in the garden as a kid.

"Would you?" I asked. "I wouldn't say no to a massage, to be honest. Just let me take a quick shower and rinse off a bit."

"You just do that!" my mother replied. "Just holler when you are ready and I"ll come and find you. I have to go look for some massage-oil first."

I went upstairs, undressed in my bedroom, walked into the bathroom I shared with my mother and stepped into the shower. The warm water on my body already relaxed the tension in my body a bit, and after a quick rinse I dried myself. On the landing between the bathroom and my bedroom I called out to my mother, "I am ready!"

"Yup!" she called back. "Just lay down, I"ll be right up"

My mother and I were not really used to being naked around each other. On the other hand, on the rare occasion one of us ran into the other undressed - usually going for or returning from the bathroom - nothing more than a little awkwardness and a mutually mumbled "Sorry!" occurred, so it also was not a big deal. Jen and I used to visit a sauna every month or so, so I was used to being naked around others. And my mother would only see my bare back and bottom, just like when I was younger, so I just laid on my stomach on the bed, waiting for her and relaxing.

"Ah, there you are." my mother said when she entered the room. She sat herself on the bed, and I heard her unscrew a bottle. I twitched a bit when she poured cold oil on my lower back, but when she placed her warm hands there I relaxed again. Silently she rubbed my back and shoulders, and sometimes I grunted a bit when she came upon a specially painful knot.

After quite some silent time she started chatting again, asking me about a cousin I had been visiting the weekend before. I knew this meant she was done massaging me, so I turned to face her. Because I had been enjoying the massage, and maybe because it had been quite some time since I had been touched by a woman's hand, I had grown a semi-erection. I was far from rock hard, and hardly aroused, but my dick kind of swung in sight when I turned my body around. I reached beside me, grabbed a pillow, and put it in my lap, hiding my dick from sight. Hardly a pause had occurred in our talk, and we continued chatting as if nothing had happened, me leaning against the headboard of the bed, and my mother seated at the foot-end of it.

After ten minutes or so my mother said, "Well, let me take a shower too. Maybe you could already start a meal for us."

'Deal!" I said, "and thank you for the massage."

She smiled at me, said, "You"re very welcome!" and disappeared into the bathroom.

The next day we again worked in the garden together, and again my mother offered to rub my back afterwards. And just like the previous day we chatted a bit seated on my bed, me propped up against the headboard, a pillow in my lap, she on the foot-end of the bed, before she went to take a shower and we enjoyed a quiet evening together.

----

"What are your plans for the weekend?" my mother asked me during dinner - I think this was the following Thursday evening.

"I don't have any." I replied. "I think we need another two or three weekends working in your garden, so I did not make other arrangements."

"Oh, that"s nice of you!" she beamed at me.

"I was thinking," she continued, "at an hours' drive from here there is a tree nursery, and there are various other plant nurseries there as well. I know it's not the right time to buy and plant a tree, but I would want to go and look at them now that they are at their best, so I can decide which one I am going to buy. And I hear they have a very decent restaurant there as well, so I figured we could go there tomorrow, look at the trees and what other plants they have, have us a lunch or an early dinner at the restaurant, and maybe go for a walk. You know, really having a day off. What do you think?"

That sounded very much alright to me, so I told her so.

"Great!" she exclaimed, and actually came over to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I'm excited!"

The next Saturday we had ourselves a slow morning, sleeping in a bit and having a mostly silent breakfast. We didn't have breakfast together often. Usually I was well on my way to work before my mother came downstairs.

Around eleven she acclaimed, "Come on, let's go! I'm ready!"

"Let me drive." I said. "I have a bigger car. You give me directions."

The tree nursery happened to be part of a big estate, and there were various gardens and ponds and a lot of statues to be seen. Also the big mansion (this really being a mansion!) was open for visitors, so we had a look inside.

In the middle of the estate stood a large greenhouse, actually an old orangery, and that was where the restaurant was. The large windows at the top of the greenhouse were all opened wide, so it had the feeling of being outside on a patio, but actually almost no bugs or bees or such were inside, apart from some very beautiful butterflies that were being bred inside the orangery.

We had a lovely meal there, my mother and I, accompanied by a really good glass of wine. Maybe it was the combination of the beauty of the place, the meal we shared and the wine doing its thing, but when we were having coffee afterwards I noticed my mother getting silent a bit, throwing glances at me. I just looked back at her, waiting for her to come up with what was bothering her.

Finally she looked straight at me and said, "Can I ask you something? It's a bit private."

"Yes, of course you can." I said. "You can ask me anything you want."

"Well," she said, as if gathering her courage. "I noticed that when you turn around after I massaged you, your penis and your balls seem very smooth. I only got a glimpse of them of course, but I never saw a penis so smooth on a grown man. Do you shave down there?"

I must have looked really surprised, because she softly added "Sorry!" but she kept looking at me questioningly.

"Actually," I said "I do. Jen and I used to go to the sauna together, so I want to keep things a bit representable down there. There are only some random tufts of unruly hair on my balls and penis, so I shave them off completely. On my tummy however I only trim the hair a bit. There are men who shave off all of the hair around the base of their penis also, but that is not my style."

"Yes." my mother responded, nodding her head a little. "I hear that women these days shave their private parts completely smooth too."

I chuckled.

"What??" my mother asked.

"You can say balls and penis, but of your own sex you say "private parts". That made me laugh." I said.

"Oh!" my mother said, blushing just a tiny bit. "Vagina," she said, making it sound as if she was exploring the right word to use. And after a second she added, with a little more conviction, "Pussy."

"Yes," I answered her question, "women do shave their pussy completely bald these days, but I don't care for that much, to be honest. I like a full bush on a woman"s pussy, maybe trimmed just the slightest bit."

"Is there a girl in your life?" my mother asked me.

"No," I said, "it's too early for me still. But how about you? Why hasn't there been a man in your life after dad died?"

She contemplated my question for a bit. Then she answered, "Well, that is mainly because men of my generation mostly are useless pricks."

And then, much to my surprise, she added, "I once had a conversation with Jen about sex, and the kind of lover you are. For instance, she told me that you do like to give her oral pleasure."

Intrigued as I was at the direction our conversation was going, again I chuckled (this time only on the inside) at the words "oral pleasure" my mother just used. The only time I had heard the gentle art of eating pussy referred to that way was in the movie Pulp Fiction, and I really didn't think my mother had seen it.

At the same time I was listening closely to what my mother was saying.

"Wait!" I asked her, "are you telling me you never have had eh... oral pleasure given to you?"

"No!" my mother said with enough strength in her voice to make some other visitors in the restaurant turn their head around. In a lower voice she continued, "I would give oral pleasure, but I never received any from those pricks!"

This time I laughed out loud.

"What????" my mother spat at me, more annoyed with the memory of said pricks than with me, I think.

"Sorry!" I said. "It's just that especially in that technique no pricks are involved, right?" That made my mother laugh aloud also.

"Stop making fun of your old mother!" she said.

"You"re not old," I said, "and you look good too. I really think you should date again and look for a gentleman that is into pleasuring you, in any way you like."

"You"re sweet!" she said. "Come on, let's take a walk outside."

My mother ended up buying a tree that day after all, a beautiful Japanese flowering crabapple, arranging for it to be delivered and planted in her garden in the fall. We also bought some perennials to replace dead plants in her garden, and some hanging baskets for the house itself. With the backbench of my car fully occupied by trays and pots filled with plants we drove home.

"I really had a lovely time!" my mother said when we were almost home. "Thank you very much."

"You"re welcome!" I said.

It had been a clear and sunny day while we were out, but when we got home the weather had turned to very hot and sticky. When I had taken all the plants out of the car and put them in the garden I was sweating all over.

"I'm going to take a quick shower." I said to my mom when I entered the kitchen where she was making us some cold lemonade.

"You do that." my mother said, adding, "Give me a sign when you are ready, I"ll come up and give you a massage."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I hardly did do anything today."

"I noticed how you stretched your back when we got home." my mother said.

I had been feeling my back after the drive home, and she noticed obviously.

"Alright." I said. "If you wouldn't mind I'd really enjoy a back rub to be honest."

"Just let me know when you are done in the bathroom." my mother replied.

I went upstairs, undressed and stepped into the shower. First I let cold water cool down my body for a while, and after that I turned the temperature up to enjoy the relaxing effect of the hot water on my body.

After I was done and dried myself I went to the landing and I called out to my mother. To my surprise she came out of her bedroom, and now stood no more than two meters from my naked body. I mumbled something like "Oh, there you are!" and quickly walked into my bedroom. I got face-down on my bed. This time I heard my mother chuckle, but she didn't say anything.

She took her time massaging my back and shoulders, and I was really enjoying it, with the usual result of my dick waking up just a little bit.

Then, after what seemed like a really long time, she suddenly spoke and said, "I sometimes miss Jen. Would you mind if I gave her a call?"

I knew her question was also a sign she was done massaging me, so I turned and rested my body against the headboard of the bed.

When I reached beside me to grab a pillow to put in my lap, my mother touched my arm and spoke again. 'Don't." she said. "You shouldn't be ashamed of yourself."

My mother stopping me covering my dick surprised me. "I'm not ashamed." I said, "I just didn't want to offend you."

"Now how could I ever be offended by how the good Lord has made you?" my mother asked, sounding really surprised herself.

"Oh." I said. "Well, alright, if you are sure."

"I am." my mother said. So I just sat against the headboard, naked, one leg straight, the other leg bent at the knee, my dick and balls on full display.

My mother massaging me, feeling her hands on my body, had been really nice, I must admit, but it hadn't aroused me. Sitting there, completely naked, in full frontal view to my mother did. I felt my dick stir, going from half erect to just not quite fully hard.

My mother once again asked me, "How would you feel if I called Jen?"

"You really should." I answered her question. "The two of you always were close, and I would love it if you could stay that way."

My mother opened her mouth to say something else, but then closed it again. She was looking at my balls and dick intently. When she spoke again there was a child-like wonder in her voice.

"You know," she said, "I never had the opportunity to look at a man"s tools like this before. Did you know your balls are in constant motion?"

"Yes, I know." I replied. "My dick is, too, shifting all the time. I think it is kind of neat, but there is also something alien about it, don't you think?"

My mother didn't answer but just kept looking at my balls and dick doing their thing. Again she opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything. Then she looked at my face and said, "I am really curious how your dick and balls feel. Your skin looks so smooth there. Would you mind if I touched you?"

That was a question I needed some time to answer. It seemed like a perfect logical and normal next step, given the intimacy we created between the two of us. The idea of my mother touching my dick certainly did arouse me, and I could feel my dick responding.