Mothering Sunday

She found herself spending a huge amount of time analysing her own behaviour around Paul before he left for university. She could admit to herself now that she'd grown somewhat flirtatious with him, and sometimes dressed in sexy clothes with him in mind.

She thought about how he would follow her round sometimes, how his eyes often seemed to rove over her body. She was used to this from men - on her slim body her breasts had always been very prominent - but from Paul it disturbed and excited her.

He was often complimentary about what she was wearing, especially when it was tight and clingy. He seemed to genuinely like hanging out with her, unlike some friends who despaired of their teenage sons.

He was not overly demonstrative in his affections but would kiss her warmly when he arrived home, and sometimes they sat and cuddled together on the sofa watching television.

In so many ways he was everything she could have ever asked for as a son. He didn't get in trouble, didn't do drugs, as far as she knew, didn't drink excessively, and didn't get girls pregnant. Perhaps she should beware of what she wished for.

But then there were the times when she felt him watching her as she got ready for bed. Somehow, he'd be there as she scurried to or from the bathroom in her skimpy underwear, her nipples so prominent, his eyes so wide.

She was concerned about it at first, but she didn't want to shut him out, or make him feel bad. She worried that she was mis-interpreting things.

Many people would have thought his behaviour creepy. But she didn't. She was biased of course but she knew it was love. And slowly she felt the same kind of feelings towards him. He was a gorgeous, and yes - she could admit it - a sexy young man.

And, now that she'd opened the door, she felt a vicarious thrill at the thought of those voyeuristic eyes in the darkness, as she imagined his straining erection and noted the frequent self-pleasure noises she heard from behind the closed door of his room.

Was he thinking of her, as he lay there? She tried to picture the scene. Him propped up in bed naked, his erection in hand, eyes closed. Yes, she was sure, he was thinking of her.

Finally, the summer holidays came round, and Paul came home. Rachel and Gavin had not discussed it again, and she felt that he was trying not to put any pressure on her. For that she was grateful, but by now her mind was fairly made up.

Gavin was away on one of his frequent business trips, and Rachel and Paul had a few days together at home before she felt him there outside the bedroom, in the dark.

***

"Paul, I know you're there... Come here," she said, her heart pounding.

Slowly he shuffled into the room. He was wearing a white towelling bath robe, and was clutching himself around the waist band, looking anxious, embarrassed, and scared.

"Sit down, darling. It's alright, don't worry, you're not in trouble."

He sat down awkwardly on the bed, like a scolded child, still holding himself, looking at her with wide nervous eyes.

"Paul, why do you watch me out there?"

"I only.... I just... I...." He stuttered.

"Paul, I know you've been there before. I know you sometimes watch me as I've been getting undressed. I want to know why?"

His mouth opened and closed. He was red and flushed. He looked panic stricken.

"Darling, it's OK, please don't worry. I'm not angry".

"I just want to know what's going on. Why do you look at me like that?"

Still nothing.

"Well, look," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I guess maybe I'm a little flattered. I'm assuming you like what you see?"

He looked dumb founded now.

"Mum..." He began but didn't get very far.

"It's OK - just tell me. I'm not angry."

"Mum, I love you... I just want to see you. To see your body. You're so beautiful.... I love you..."

His words fell out in a tumble. He stared at her, like a rabbit in the headlights.

"Oh Paul, I love you too.... But you know you shouldn't be doing that".

"I know, I know... but I can't help it. I just find myself drawn to you... I think about you... all the time..." He paused, staring at the floor.

She listened, as her suspicions proved correct.

"I thought it would go away when I left home. But it hasn't. And now I'm home, it's probably worse if anything. I just need to be close to you..."

"Oh Paul...."

She sat down next to him, kissed his cheek, and took his hand in hers.

He looked at her anxiously.

She stroked his fingers. Their thighs were touching. She could feel the heat coursing between the two of them. He had tears in his eyes.

"Mum, I'm sick, I know... Some sort of sick pervert... "

"No!" she almost shouted. He looked surprised.

"Don't say that... no, that's not right. Please don't say that..."

"But mum," what I'm feeling about you... it's not right..."

She shook her head vigorously.

"What I want to do with you... it's wrong...."

"No Paul," she said firmly. "It's OK.... really, it's OK".

He stared at her anxiously.

"Paul, my love, it is honestly OK" she whispered, looking him in the eye, "Because I feel the same about you."

She took one of his hands which had been clutching himself and squeezed it. She lifted it to her lips and kissed it. Then holding his hand, she leaned over to him and kissed him gently on the lips.

Paul, overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions, was mute for a moment, his lips tense. But slowly, as she pressed on, he began to relax and kiss her back.

Sitting there, chastely on the bed together, the two of them, mother and son, kissed gently, but slowly their bodies started to respond to each other. She stroked the back of his head with one hand.

And their kisses got deeper and deeper.

***

Gavin had spent the whole of his business trip distracted, wondering if this would be the moment Rachel seized the opportunity. He was sure that Paul would never dare to make the first move.

Ever since their explosive discussion together he'd been watching her carefully for signs of her feelings. She'd quizzed him about his own relationship with his mother, and he could see how their late-night talks had turned her on.

This encouraged him to open-up and tell her more.

Their sex life together had even been transformed, something he had not been expecting.

He was careful not to push her, or even ask her about her intentions with Paul. He knew how conflicted she must be about his outrageous suggestions.

But he sensed that she was softening and coming to terms with what he'd said.

And she certainly never ridiculed him or made him feel uncomfortable, depraved, or ashamed of either what he'd done as a young man, or what he was encouraging her to do with Paul.

For that, he was grateful. It had been his darkest secret. And he was hopeful now that something beautiful - yes, he told himself - something beautiful would come of it.

He had trouble analysing his own motivations. His intentions, he thought, were a mix of love - love for his wife and his son - and a wish for Paul to experience something of the intimacy and sexual awareness he discovered with his own mother.

But he was also aware that sexually, he'd become obsessed with the phenomena of mother-son incest.

Presumably because of his own experiences he had been drawn to it, and in his younger years he'd avidly read the dirty, shady, and frankly shameful books and magazines which specialised in this fetish.

But now with the internet providing a never-ending stream of such stories, he was on the one-hand at last satiated in his lust for mother-son stories, but also rather gratified and shocked that so many others seemed to share his lurid desires.

Perhaps he was not so weird, so deviant after-all, he reasoned.

But he never dared confess his desires to Rachel, and his fascination with those stories was something he saved for late-night sessions in his home-office when he was supposedly working, or something he indulged during his business trips away in a hotel room somewhere.

Until their discussion, he did not allow himself to think about Rachel and Paul together sexually. He was worried it might degrade his love for them with something he knew was sordid and disgusting.

His fantasies had taken the form of a beautiful mature woman and her handsome, strapping son. But they were nameless, faceless.

It was only in recent months that he'd started to prise back the rusting bolts and open Pandora's box, to put identities to those two faceless characters who he knew had probably always been Rachel and Paul.

Then his fantasies had taken off, thinking of them making love together whenever he let his mind wander.

Rachel was a truly beautiful woman, who he genuinely believed had grown more desirable as she aged. She had always been careful about what she ate and had a punishing exercise routine, to his chagrin.

While she'd honed her stunning figure, he'd allowed middle-aged spread to take over.

He still desired Rachel, but until recently their busy lives and the inevitable daily routine of long married years had seriously blunted their sex lives together.

But in Paul, he could clearly see the other half of his fantasy life made good. He was a good-looking young man, in great shape physically, despite his bookish love of academia.

He was certainly not a jock and had rarely indulged in laddish behaviour with his friends, but he shared his mother's love of exercise, and Gavin tried to bond, and keep up with his son throughout his teenage years by swimming together and playing tennis.

He'd occasionally stolen glances at his son's developing body with a rueful admiration when they were changing or showering after a game - something he was fairly certain Rachel had not experienced.

But the first time he noticed how well-endowed Paul had become was a shocking moment for him.

Paul had his back to him in the changing room and was drying himself off after a shower. He was always rather furtive on these occasions, choosing cubicles when available, changing hurriedly, and studiously avoiding any full-frontal contact.

He rather surmised that Paul must be small down there and was ashamed of displaying it somehow.

But that day his assumptions were shattered when Paul was awkwardly trying to put his boxers on his still wet legs, but the material kept snagging, allowing Gavin to see, from behind, Paul's long cock dangling down between his legs, flopping about with the activity.

Not quite believing what he was seeing, Gavin quickly stepped around his son, heading to his locker, and he rummaged about inside, furtively glancing over at Paul.

From this angle he could see him clearly, and Gavin stared in shock at his son's huge cock hanging there long and very thick, way down between his thighs.

Paul paused for a moment in his struggle when he saw the look on his father's face. Reddening instantly, he forced his boxers up, and pulled them hurriedly around his waist, hiding himself away from his gawping parent.

It was a troubling moment for him, bringing back painful memories of school changing rooms, the shocked looks of classmates, the sniggering laughs, taunts, and name-calling which followed.

Father and son said nothing to each other. Gavin could see how uncomfortable Paul was, and avoided making any remark, much as he wanted to.

Knowing nothing about his son's troubled school years because Paul was so intensely private about it, he nonetheless sensed that far from being proud of his endowment, Paul was actually ashamed of it.

Reflecting on it later, he wondered whether it had anything to do with Paul's reticence with the opposite sex, and why Paul had failed to form any long-term relationships with girls.

He remembered his own awkward fumbling with girls as a teenager and imagined what some inexperienced youngster would do when confronted with a cock of that size. Run for the hills, he would imagine.

It started him thinking, after all for Gavin this really was not a stretch, that what Paul needed was an experienced older woman, someone who would make him appreciate the gift he had been given. It was not a leap to think of Rachel as that woman.

The encounter, and the subsequent conversation with his wife, turbo-charged Gavin's fantasies of Rachel and Paul having sex together. And Rachel teaching Paul how to be a man.

But he did not tell her what he saw that day.

Something held him back. In part it was a feeling that whatever Rachel did, it should be done out of love for her son, and nothing to do with something as base as the size of his cock.

But partly - he was ashamed to admit because it was in complete contrast - it was that this revelation chimed perfectly with his own long-standing fantasies, and indeed those of many depicted in the stories he read. The faceless mothers of this fantasy life were invariably beautiful and busty. The sons were unfeasibly well-hung.

Somehow, if Rachel and Paul were to make love together, he wanted to witness the moment of discovery when the mother realised her son was so huge.

It set Gavin off on another track altogether, and one that he was deeply ashamed of because it involved a complete betrayal of trust, but nonetheless he could not resist.

He knew that Rachel would never agree for him to be there when she had sex with her son for the first time. He thought it unlikely she would agree to such a thing at any time. And Paul even less so.

He thought he might have been able to persuade her to tell him about it afterwards, but she'd never been very vocal in expressing her sexual desires, and he thought it doubtful that she would ever describe their encounters in the sort of detail he wanted to know.

So, despite his misgivings, Gavin purchased a good quality secret camera and sound system, linked to the internet, and set them up in several rooms around the house, wherever he thought they might make love together. And he waited, with ever increasing anticipation.

Gavin's patience was finally rewarded.

Sitting there, utterly agog, in his hotel room, his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, he saw Paul summoned into the bedroom, and rejoiced at the quality of the picture. He listened with ever-growing excitement to the conversation they were having.

He saw Rachel lean over and kiss him, and he saw how their kisses grew with passion.

On the screen a mother and son were kissing longingly. It was truly the stuff of his fantasies. Only this was the mother and son he loved most in the world. A truly beautiful mother and her handsome son, who were about to experience, he hoped, the most incredible night of their lives together.

***

Rachel and Paul kissed with increasing passion. She was running her hands up and down his back, and he was doing the same to her. Gavin could see from the way the silky material of her robe slid across her perfect skin that Rachel was naked underneath.

Rachel took the dominant role. After long minutes of open-mouthed kissing, she pushed Paul back onto the bed, and straddled his waist, leaning over him and kissing all over his face.

From the way her robe gaped open, and from Paul's wide staring eyes, it was clear that Rachel's perfect tits were hanging down from her chest in full view for her son.

She saw what he was looking at, and smiled, sitting up on her haunches across his waist, and pulled open her robe further.

"Is this what you want to see?" she asked coquettishly.

"Oh mum, you are so beautiful," he gasped.

"What you imagined?"

"God, so much better," he said, mouth open, "and bigger than I thought, and your nipples...

"Yes, they're pretty long, aren't they?"

"They're incredible... can I?"

She took hold of her son's hands and pulled them to her tits and sighed as he rubbed and pawed at them, pulling her stiff nipples.

"Oh mum, you are so perfect..."

She moaned deeply as he continued to manipulate her tits, writhing in pleasure. He pulled himself up and leaned forward, mouth open, to enclose a long nipple between his lips.

She pulled her son to him and stroked his head with both hands as he sucked away, back at the nipples he once nursed at so many years ago. He swapped from one to another, all the while cupping her in his hands, as Rachel's groans grew louder and louder.

It seemed like she was building to an orgasm, purely from his passionate ministrations to her tits.

Gavin had never seen her respond like this before. He was thrilled and slightly chastened that he had never managed to show the same kind of ardour as his inexperienced son.

Rachel was gasping in ecstasy.

"Oh, Paul," she whimpered, "Paul..."

He paused for a moment and held her close, their faces pressed together.

"Love you, mum, love you".

Behind her back, as she sat astride his waist, held in his arms, Gavin could see a considerable bulge under Paul's towelling robe. His cock was hidden but straining like a crane, nudging against her back.

Rachel slowly came back to earth, and she kissed her son passionately.

"Hello?" she said, with a giggle.

"Mum?" he asked, with a happy smile. He lay back on the bed with a gasp.

"I can't believe I'm here with you like this," he said contentedly.

"Someone's knocking at the door," she said grinning.

He looked confused for a moment.

She reached behind her, pointing to the small of her back.

"Someone wants to say hello, back here," she said, laughing again.

"Oh, yeah," he said, looking a bit worried.

"About that mum..."

"And I want to say hello to him," she interrupted, and started to shuffle backwards.

His bulge became trapped beneath her bottom, and her eyes widened.

"Oh," she said, "what have we got here?"

"Mum, it's..."

"It's your cock, Paul, I know," she said in a sultry tone. Paul fell silent, holding his breath.

She slid back onto his legs and looked intently at the protrusion beneath his robe.

"Paul, it's..." she began to say, tentatively running her hand across the swollen ridge.

"Mum, it's a bit big..."

"Yes, I'd noticed that" she said with a nervous laugh.

She continued to stroke along his length.

He sat up anxiously, staring at her hand as she smoothed down the towelling over his form, revealing the full shape of him. She took a deep breath.

"Paul let's show ourselves to each other," she said. "You want to see me, and I really want to see you."

She pulled off her robe and knelt up above his legs. He stared at naked body in delight, instantly forgetting his predicament.

To him she was perfection, large firm breasts, narrow waist, wide flaring hips, long flowing hair, and the stunning face of a woman radiant in her passion.

"Mum, I feel like my heart is about to burst," he gasped, "You are so beautiful."

She smiled at his obviously sincere compliments.

"It's not the only thing that's about to burst," she muttered, pulling at the ties to his robe.

She saw the anxious look return to his face.

"It's OK," she said soothingly. She could tell he was anxious about revealing himself to her, but she was now desperate to see. This so surpassed her expectations.

She pulled the robe apart and opened it up as he lay spread out before her.

"Oh, Paul..." she whispered in awe.

His huge cock reared up over his belly, stretching past his belly button, its thick head resting like a large plum on his diaphragm.

Visibly throbbing, and massively thick, it was deep red with engorged blood, crimson at its wide bulbous head, as a drop of clear liquid eased from the tip.

"Paul, you're huge," she gasped, reaching out to stroke its length.

"I had no idea," she said, almost to herself.

Propped up on his elbows he was watching, transfixed, as her fingers ran lightly along his length, glancing at her face as he did so, trying to read her reaction.

She settled her hand around the shaft in the middle, where it seemed to be at its widest, before tapering towards the head, where it flared out noticeably.