Mothering Sunday

She could not reach around but ran her cupped hand and curled fingers up and down, tightening her grip.

"Mum is it OK? Is it too big?" Paul whispered.

"Paul, it's the most magnificent thing I've ever seen," she said to him.

Her sincerity was clear, and he relaxed back onto the bed with a groan, enjoying her hand squeezing along his length.

"It's absolutely incredible," she continued, "It's beautiful."

She dipped her finger into the lubrication pooling on his skin, rubbing it between her fingers.

"I've never seen anything like it. I didn't know they came this big," she laughed.

He looked at her, a silent question.

"Paul, I love it. I really love it."

He smiled, so relieved.

"Paul, I love you".

She leaned down and kissed him slowly on the lips.

"And I'm going to make love to you, in a few minutes."

"Mum really?"

She kissed him again, a long lingering kiss. Tits rubbing against his chest. Hand gripping his cock.

"Yes, my beautiful son, Mummy's going to make love to you, so very, very slowly, and we're going to fit all of your beautiful big cock deep, deep - oh so deep - inside me," she said slowly and deliberately.

"Mum," he gasped, and stiffened.

She rose a little, hand tight around his cock as it started spurting, pouring huge rushes of come over his chest and onto her tits.

Paul moaned and thrust his hips wildly. More come shot forward, painting his neck and her upper chest, wide thick lines splashed across their skin.

He slumped back with a long sigh.

"Oh wow," she sighed, "So much, for mummy,"

"God mum, I couldn't hold back. You've got me so excited,"

"Yes, I can see that," she grinned, looking down at herself. She leant down and rubbed her creamy tits against his gooey chest.

"Oh mum," he said, and pulled her face to his, kissing her wildly, then long, and slow.

Gradually they pulled apart, sticky strands pulling with their departing skin.

"Think I better clean up," she said, as she climbed off him and walked to the bathroom, returning with a hand towel.

"Such a messy boy," she tut-tutted jokingly, "always making Mummy clean up after him,"

She rubbed the towel along his cock, and mopped his chest, before using the clean side on herself, rubbing the thick white flecks from her breasts, making them wobble alluringly.

Paul's cock, which had seemed to lose none of his length, noticeably thickened again, as she rubbed away, seeing the effect it was having on him.

She slowly shook her breasts from side to side and laughed as he groaned in adoration.

"Oh, you really do like mummy's tits, don't you son?"

"Mum, I've been so desperate to see them for so long," he said.

"I noticed."

"Sorry for staring,"

"Oh, it's OK," she dropped her voice low as if telling him a secret, "To be honest, you've had an incredible effect on me of late, with your rather obvious attentions," she smiled.

"Oh?"

"You've given me a new lease of life," she continued, "When a woman hits her forties, she sometimes thinks its downhill from here, literally sometimes..."

She cupped her breasts in her hands, pushing them up her chest.

"... as everything starts to head south, and your sex life ebbs away. Frankly, I'd stopped feeling like a sexy woman, until you lit my fire again."

"Really mum?"

"Honestly, being so clearly lusted after by a gorgeous young man like you, even if you are my son, well, it has given me quite a rush, I'll admit."

His eyes were bright as she described the effect he'd had on her. So eager to please, like an over-awed child, lying there on her marital bed, but now rigid again with desire. A man-child.

Oh, such a man, she thought eying his shocking tumescence.

"Well, that didn't take you long, did it?" she raised an eyebrow. "Are we in for a long night?"

He leapt up onto his feet and gathered her into his arms, his body enveloping hers, his rampant cock rearing up between her breasts.

He nuzzled her neck and stroked her back.

"I think it might be a long night," he whispered. "I've dreamt about this for so long."

Gavin, their unknown watcher, lay back on the bed in his hotel room, his penis erect again after spraying copiously a few minutes earlier. Whatever misgivings he'd had about his betrayal of their trust was drowned out by the passion he was witnessing on the screen.

He shook his head at his own extreme arousal. He hadn't got hard again so quickly for years. But he doubted he'd keep up with his son as the night went on.

It was everything he'd dreamed of and more, and oddly he didn't feel any jealousy that this was his wife being made to love to in front of him. He could see her pleasure, and he could see his pleasure. He closed his eyes and remembered his own pleasure years ago with his mother.

Rachel and Paul kissed deeply, and then she pulled him down onto the bed, and he rolled on top of her.

He wiped away the hairs from across her face and kissed her gently on the lips, and then the neck, and then her upper chest. She groaned as she realised where he was going.

Paul lavished attention to her breasts. He stroked them, squeezed them, and played with her tight nipples. He pulled at them gently and wrapped his lips around them.

He loved how long her nipples felt in his mouth, as he sucked and sucked.

Rachel accompanied his attentions with a continual non-verbal commentary of groans and moans and encouragement. She arched her chest, thrusting her tits into his eager mouth.

Eventually his kiss-journey continued downwards, across her flat stomach and down to the carefully trimmed nest of hairs which hid her vagina. He paused, inches away, inhaling her warm scent. This was something he never imagined he'd see.

Her encouraging moans urged him on. He extended his cautious tongue, gently touching its tip to her clit. She squeaked in glee, so he continued, gently licking her hard little bud, relishing its unusual texture.

He extended his licking journey along her groove, returning to her clitoris for fleeting, teasing kisses. He noted the tone of the noises she made as he explored, creating a mental map of her pleasure zones.

Her juices were flowing freely now, and her scent overwhelmed him. His cock had never felt harder, and he groaned in pleasure as her clutching hands reached down his chest and seemed to be clutching for his manhood.

He shifted position the other way, moving his body up the bed while his face remained embedded in her wet pussy. He was freely licking and sucking her with abandon.

He sighed as he felt her groping hand reach his dick and clamp around its solid form. She gripped and stroked him in synch with his licks below.

Both were now groaning in pleasure, Paul with his face buried deep in his mother's pussy, Rachel as she fisted his cock. She pulled him closer to him, and he guessed with a jolt that she wanted to suck him, just as he sucked her.

He moved again, bringing his cock within range, and had to pause for a moment as he felt her exquisite soft tongue exploring his sensitive cockhead.

He continued to lick her, and she licked him, mother and son swept away on a wave of intense pleasure.

But it got far too intense for Rachel, as his tongue, now joined by a finger, built, and built her into a huge climax. She thrust her head away, mouth open agape, as wordless cries filled the room.

Her body jerked, her juices flowed, as her pants, gasps and cries peaked. Paul paused his actions and drank in her musky smell as she flailed, and stretched, and writhed.

When she finally seemed to be calming, he licked again at her clit, but she reached down and grabbed his head to stop him.

"No, no... too sensitive..."

He stopped, amazed at what he'd done to her, and pulled his body back to lie down next to her. He stroked her sweaty hair from her face, and gently kissed her cheek, snuggling into her neck and wrapping his arms around her.

"God, baby, that was so fucking good".

They lay together feeling so content. Two warm bodies intertwined.

***

Gavin watched spellbound.

He thought she'd be teaching him, but it seemed like they were teaching each other. He thought he'd be clumsy and awkward. He seemed confident and self-assured.

After Paul's initial wariness and concern, he'd quickly relaxed, and the two of them were moving together like they'd been doing it together forever.

He seemed to read her body so quickly, so naturally, that Gavin felt unexpected respect for his son.

Clearly whatever fears he'd had had been quickly assuaged, by Rachel's obvious desire. She was as entranced by him as he was of her.

After hugging her close, he rolled onto his back, and Rachel followed, half propped along his side, and slid her hand down to close around his cock, lifting it up away from his body.

Gavin looked at them together, feeling a surge of jealousy. God that boy was hung! Even his fantasies had not done his son justice. How had he fathered such a specimen?

He had no idea how genes passed down the inheritance line and wondered if his own father had been so exuberantly endowed. He doubted it and had never been given that impression by his mother, despite their intimacy.

He'd carefully avoided digging for comparisons, aware that he was rather average, and his mother had seemed more than happy with what he had to offer.

Maybe Paul had got it from Rachel's side of the family. After all she was the one with the beautiful body.

Were other men on her side of the family so blessed? With a shock, he pictured Rachel's brother Steve, and wondered if he also had a big dick.

And, letting his fantasies run wild, he wondered if Rachel and Steve ever indulged in curious youthful exploration.

Looking at Paul now lying next to his mother, he could see that he was slim and well put together, but far from some sort of hulk. On Paul's slight build, as his mother stroked him, his rampant cock looked way out of proportion.

He thought he knew how Paul was feeling - such intimacy with the woman who loved him most in the world. But he was also now jealous of his prodigious gift, and the talent he was already showing as a lover.

***

Paul turned to Rachel. "Mum, can we..."

She smiled, "Make love?"

Still, he was a bit shy with her.

He nodded eagerly. Like a man-child again.

Her actions spoke for themselves as she rolled onto her back, and slowly and deliberately spread her legs for her son.

Paul knelt between her legs, holding his erect cock in his hand, pausing to savour the moment.

He lowered himself over her body and poised there, leant down and gave her a quick kiss. She reached down for his cock and took hold, and slowly rubbed his broad head up and down her leaking pussy.

"Mum, wait, do I need a condom?" he asked suddenly.

She smiled and kissed him back.

"Thanks for asking. I'm proud of you. But no, I'm on the pill."

He smiled in relief, and she continued to bathe his organ with her lubrication.

She positioned him carefully.

"Now, very, very slowly, push... just the head."

He pushed, a fraction of an inch at a time.

Her mouth started to open, in line with the way her pussy was dilating.

He pushed, staring intently at her face, looking for signs of pain.

She gasped and gave out a deep "Oh..." and he stopped.

"It's OK... it's OK, keep pushing, just the head..."

He pushed again, and slipped slowly inside, then stopped again.

She'd never felt anything like it before. He was cleaving her aside like no-one she'd ever experienced.

She felt deeply stretched. It felt uncomfortable, but she tried not to let him know.

They stared at each other, wide eyed.

"Mum, you feel so tight," he whispered.

"You're so big," she said, "But I want you to continue."

"Just carry on, really slowly."

He carefully re-positioned himself on his knees and elbows over her, and slid a couple more inches into her, and stopped again.

It felt a little easier now.

She looked down at their coupling. His broad shaft still had a long way to go.

"Kiss me," she pleaded, and they kissed for a long time, open mouthed, tongues searching.

Maybe the distraction helped, because she felt herself yielding to him, softening, and moulding to his shape.

As they kissed, he sensed her relaxation and pushed a few more inches inside.

"Oh," she breathed deeply into his open mouth.

He pulled back, seeming to suck her clinging flesh back with him as he went and pushed forward again, regaining the ground, and delving further.

He was deep inside her now, and again they paused and kissed. The urge to thrust must have been strong, but Paul held himself back.

"A bit more," she urged, and he continued.

He was almost there now, and she could feel him so deep inside. She felt a rush of overwhelming love for her son who was ever so gently spearing her. Splitting her like no-one had ever done before. Claiming her for himself.

He stopped. Their hips pushed together. She'd taken everything he had to give.

"Oh, I love you," she cried in ecstasy.

"I love you," he said, head down, forehead to forehead, as he burrowed his arms beneath her and they fused, one body, son deep inside his mother.

They stayed like this for a long time, kissing sometimes, and inhaling each other's warm scent. Her adjusting to his size. Him still not quite believing.

She could feel him throbbing inside her in time with his heartbeat. Just these tiny movements were enough to bring waves of pleasure, which began to grow and grow, as at last he began to withdraw and push back.

She lay back and abandoned herself to his slow pushes.

His pace slowly increased, and with it the length of his insertions.

When he sensed she was no longer feeling any discomfort, he pulled his hips far back and slowly pushed almost his whole length in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

His pace was still slow, but relentless.

He seemed never-ending to her as she surrendered herself to him, feeling helpless and no longer in control.

She was rising and rising on waves of what began to feel like almost continuous orgasm.

He's so thick, so long. I'm so full, she thought. Never felt anything like this before.

He's my son...

She cried out, louder now, and his relentless rhythm was starting to break, her cries spurring him on, bringing his climax suddenly to the fore.

Crying and clutching him to her, she gave a long groan and he stopped moving, recognising her approaching moment of crisis.

But even though he was desperate to prolong the ecstasy, his desperate urges, his need to come, could not be delayed any further, and he began to thrust quickly, deep inside her, even as her own cries grew ever louder.

"Mum... mum..." he gasped.

He instinctively pushed as deep as he could go, and she yelped. His legs stiffening, he ejaculated enormously into her. Never had he felt such a volume rush out of him, as he squeezed and squeezed, and came and came. It seemed to last for ages.

She shrieked, almost making his ears ring.

His head was buried in her neck, their hips jammed together, and they gradually slowed their mutual humping to a close, and finally lay still at last, hearts thumping, chests heaving, long breaths together.

"Oh my God," she groaned, after many minutes had passed.

He grunted and began to roll off her.

Their wet skin was stuck together, but they prized themselves apart and he pulled back exiting her with a wet thud, as he flopped down beside her, his long, wet dick lying limp and exhausted across his hip.

Eventually, he spoke, cautiously clearing his throat.

"Mum, I can't quite believe it..."

More minutes passed as mother and son adjusted to a new reality.

She shifted, propping herself up on her elbows and looked down at her pussy, suddenly aware of the wetness dripping out of her.

She leapt up off the bed, leaving a large wet patch behind her and grabbed for the towel lying scattered on the floor alongside their robes.

She clutched it to her, and eyed him, her slumbering son lying prostrate.

"Think you were trying to drown me".

He grunted.

She dabbed away, then walked to the bathroom for a more serious clean up.

Paul lay still, dimly aware of the sound of a shower switching on.

When she returned, she was wearing a clean robe, not quite as sexy as earlier, but still revealing her form.

Paul was by now sound asleep.

She nudged him and he shifted, groaning, slowly opening his eyes.

How many times had she woken him, she wondered? Never quite like this.

He looked around, and smiled at her, reaching out for her hand.

"Mum," he said.

She sniffed the air. The stink of their sex lay heavy in the room. His body still glistened with sweat and other fluids.

She squeezed his hand. What do they do now?

Her thoughts had never got this far. She'd failed to properly think through the next step.

There'd been vague ideas about a heart to heart, a long and deep conversation about his many insecurities, some re-assurances from her, warm confidence-building encouragement, words of praise if he'd failed to rise to the occasion, but predictions of a great future with women of his own, armed with the skill and experience she could teach him.

None of that seemed to be needed right now.

The whole encounter was, she thought, in a word: spectacular.

So, she switched to practical mum mode.

"You stink - go and have a shower," she commanded briskly.

He groaned and groaned again. Son mode.

She tugged on his hand. "Go on."

He dragged himself to his feet, grumbling still, and padded off to the bathroom.

She sat down on the bed and looked round at the wreckage.

Better change the bed, she thought.

She paused for a moment, and looked around the room, eyes suddenly drawn to the camera lens, hidden amongst the books on the shelf.

She lurched forwards, examining what she saw, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"And you can turn that fucking thing off now," she commanded sharply.

***

Gavin flinched. In shock. Lazing there in the wreckage of his own bed, the cold stains of his solo stimulation still lying clumped on his pale body.

On auto his hand hovered obediently to the laptop, and clicked the programme closed.

"Oh shit," he said to the silent room.

***

When Paul re-emerged from the bathroom freshly showered, hair washed, teeth cleaned, he found an utterly domestic scene.

His mother was smoothing down the newly made bed, and there were two hot cups of tea on either side.

He had to smile at the contrast.

She sat down and patted the bed beside her.

In the bathroom he'd debated what to wear. Was he now son, or lover?

He'd opted for a clean pair of boxers and nothing else. Now he felt distinctly under-dressed.

He sat. She handed him a cup of tea. They sipped politely.

His stomach churned. How had frantic rutting turned to awkward domesticity?

Perhaps to break the silence he felt compelled to say something, and the words tumbled out of him.

"Mum, that was the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me... beyond my wildest dreams... never thought it would happen... you were amazing... you are amazing... I can hardly believe it... I hope you don't regret it... I know I have no regrets... Mum?"

She smiled and put her tea down and held his hand in both of hers.

"Oh, my love, it was the most amazing thing that happened to me too, and no I don't regret it, not for a second."

"I know we've always had a connection. But that was another level, something I can't even begin to describe."

He glowed, but at the same time felt slightly abashed.

"Some things I might regret," she added, glancing at where the hidden camera had been, "But no I wanted this too."

"What do you regret?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"It's OK, it's nothing. I'll tell you later. Nothing to do with you. You, my love, are something else."