My Neglected Mother

'Are you alright,' Martin,' she asked softly, getting back into bed with me. We sat up against the padded headboard and looked at each other.

'I feel wonderful,' I said, simply. 'How about you?'

'Different,' she replied after a pause. 'I feel different.'

'Different good or different bad?'

'I really was at the end of my tether when we had that first kiss on your birthday. I felt like nothing. Not even a decent adjunct to my husband's life. But then we started kissing and you made me feel wanted, Martin. It made a huge difference to me.

'Of course I knew that you'd want more and I was worried about that but then I thought why not? Why the hell not? Sod the fact that it's against the law. We're both consenting adults.'

She smiled. 'I really enjoyed dressing up for you and buying new clothes and painting my nails and everything. It made me feel good. Your dad probably thinks I'm having an affair, if he notices me at all. I suppose I am, really.

'But it was the stockings and suspenders that tipped the balance. Up until then I was resisting the idea of having full sex with you but then you got me those lovely black stockings and the suspender belt and I put them on one day and looked in the mirror and I thought yes! I will do it!'

I slept with my mother that night for the first time. We finished the wine and used the bathroom and snuggled down together under the duvet just like a married couple. We talked for a while, whispering in the darkness of my childhood bedroom, and I stroked my mother's body, feeling her nakedness, not to arouse her but to explore her and to understand her. Eventually we slept.

When I woke the next morning, it was barely light and rain was beating against the bedroom windows. It felt like a day for just staying in bed, although that was impossible as I'd skived off yesterday. I looked at my watch: six-thirty. Mum was a lump under the duvet, her hair a silver puddle on the pillow.

I nestled up to her, feeling her buttocks against my groin, my cock already hard at the realisation that we were naked in bed together. Mum made a little contented noise and I reached around her and cupped one of her breasts.

She rolled onto her back and I massaged her breast, rubbing the tip of her nipple with my thumb until it became rigid and I moved to her other breast, kissing her neck and her cheek. Mum made another little noise, more like a moan, as I slid my exploratory hand down between her legs and found her pubic bush. She groaned and parted her thighs at my touch and I pressed my hand onto the warmth of her vulva, feeling her labia, stroking and massaging her mound.

'Do you want me, Martin?' she asked quietly. Then she gasped and jerked her head back as my first and middle fingers slid into her pussy, already wet with her arousal.

I climbed awkwardly between her legs and guided myself to her slit, rubbing my fat cockhead up and down before pushing in, penetrating my mother's cunt with my rigid meat.

'Oh yes!' she hissed as I slid in. And she was hot and liquid and it felt like a new section of heaven had opened up and I was about to explore it.

I took my mother very slowly that first morning, not with the frenzied urgency of the night before, but with little thrusts, my body lying on hers, skin on skin, feeling her heat and smelling her scent. And as I fucked her I kissed her hair and her cheeks and her lips and smelt her morning breath, but it didn't matter. I had never felt so close to someone before, never felt the intimacy of sex so strongly, never felt such love, such intense and forbidden love.

It went on for a long time and I will never forget it. Mum locked her legs over mine and stroked my back and scraped her nails lightly over me and she looked at me with her lovely dark-blue eyes and she kissed me and smiled and then groaned if I thrust a little harder and I knew that she was in the same heaven as me.

'I'm coming, Martin,' she whispered, eventually and I ground my loins into hers and she arched her back and dug her dark-green nails into my flesh and as she did that I felt the bubble in me swell and a hot, thick wave of pleasure broke over me and I pumped my sperm into my mother and she rode with me, crying out my name.

It was all a bit emotional afterwards. Mum had tears in her eyes and I had a lump in my throat.

'It sounds a bit of a cliché,' she said as we lay in a heap on the bed, 'but it genuinely never has been that good before. I've never felt a such a strong connection. Is it the incest Martin? Is that what makes it so powerful, because it's so forbidden?'

'I think it's got something to do with it,' I agreed. 'But it's love too. Love makes it better and now I can love you as a mother and as a lover. The best of both worlds.'

'What are we going to do now?' she asked, after a pause.

'Well I've got to go to work,' I answered, stirring and disentangling myself from my mother's naked embrace.

'Not this minute,' she replied. 'I mean us. This.'

'Do you want it to go on?' I asked, a bit fearfully.

'Of course I do. But what about your father?'

'Well I wasn't planning on telling him,' I smiled. 'He's almost certainly having an affair so why can't you? At least you're keeping it in the family.'

'He's away this coming Sunday, all day and overnight. Can I come over to your flat?'

'Of course you can, Mum. And make sure you're wearing your stockings and suspenders and paint your nails for me, too,' I added, heading for the bathroom. There was nothing wrong with asserting a little authority over one's mother when she was also your lover.

Mum arrived at my flat around midday on Sunday and let herself in with the key I'd given her after Christmas. I was preparing lunch in the kitchen as she walked in on three-inch heels and threw her coat over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

'Christ!' I gasped, 'you look sensational!'

She was wearing the dark-green cocktail dress she'd worn to the cinema and I knew she was wearing stockings and suspenders, too. Her hair was freshly washed and her make-up was carefully applied. She peeled off her black leather gloves and waggled her fingers at me. She had painted her nails a dark red.

I rinsed and dried my hands and came to her and she put her arms around my neck and I cupped her buttocks and pressed her into my groin, feeling her pubic mound against my growing erection.

Our lips met in a sizzling, open-mouthed kiss and I tasted her lipstick and the faint spearmint tang of her mouthwash. I slid my tongue into my mother's mouth and ground my loins into hers and she teased her nails over the back of my shirt and made little noises of satisfaction into my mouth.

'God, I want you!' I gasped, breaking the kiss and looking at her with wide eyes.

'Can't a lady have a drink and a bit of lunch before being ravished by her son?' she asked demurely, smiling at me, her dark eyes twinkling.

So I served up the chicken Caesar salad and opened a bottle of hock and we ate and drank and talked and laughed and it was wonderful because we both knew that straight after lunch we were going to my bed to make love, but there was no uncomfortableness, no awkwardness, and the only tension was the fizzing electricity between a mother and son who are about to have full sexual intercourse together.

We took the remaining half-bottle of wine into the bedroom and I drew the curtains, plunging the room into an evening twilight. Then we stood by the bed and kissed for long moments and as we kissed my hands roamed over my mother's body and I felt the curve of her hips and the flare of her buttocks and I traced the knobbles of her spine through the thin material of her dress and felt the heat of her body and the fullness of her breasts.

Mum's arms were around my neck again and she was opening her mouth wide to me, mashing her lips against mine, licking my gums and my teeth, moving her head, winding and weaving, kissing me like I'd never been kissed before.

'Unzip me,' she whispered, clinging to me.

I found her zipper and drew it down to the small of her back and she released me and let it slip over her arms and body and down her legs into a pool on the bedroom carpet. Underneath she was wearing the black stockings and the black, satin suspender belt I had bought her for Christmas. She was also wearing matching black panties and brassiere that looked elegant and expensive.

'Better and better,' I told her and she smiled and fluttered her eyelids.

'I've been shopping,' she said. 'I've been looking forward to today so much! I wanted to look as good as I could.'

She watched as I kicked off my slippers and removed my trousers and shirt and then my underpants, my cock springing up into the air and pointing at the ceiling.

'Sit on the bed, Martin,' she told me quietly.

I obeyed and mum knelt on the carpet before me and I felt a rush of adrenaline because she was about to take my penis in her mouth. My mother was going to suck my cock! I had fantasised about this, imagined her red lips moving up and down my shaft, had visions of coming in her mouth.

She rested one hand on my thigh and leaned forward, her hair falling around her face. Then she stopped and got up. 'Just a second,' she said, disappearing out of the bedroom.

I barely had time to register disappointment before she was back, gathering her hair into a ponytail and securing it with an elasticated band.

She knelt down before me again and lowered her head.

'Now you can see what I'm doing,' she said softly and I stared down at her as she slipped the head of my penis into her mouth, stretching her red lips to take the big plum inside her, sliding her wet mouth over my purple, engorged glans, rasping her tongue over the sensitive skin, pushing the tip into my urethra.

I gasped as she slid her mouth lower, taking inches of me inside her, one hand on my thigh, the other gripping the base of my shaft and squeezing firmly until I thought I would burst with pleasure. Then her mouth was rising, leaving wet skin that cooled, then sinking again, fucking me with her mouth, mother fellating son with long, slurping strokes.

She started going faster, up and down, in and out, her hand now cupping my balls, her red nails gently raking the crinkly skin.

I felt the tingling in my spine and the creeping tide of pleasure that indicated an approaching climax.

'I'll come if you don't stop, Mum,' I hissed.

Mum went faster and sucked harder and gently squeezed my testicles, her middle finger dangerously close to my anus.

It was too much for me, way too much. I groaned loudly and fought the impulse to thrust my hips at my mother, to make her gag on my cock. But the feeling of intense pleasure was rising, running away with reason, swamping the world and I was coming and my cock was pulsing and spurting gouts of spunk into my mother's mouth and she was still sucking and licking and then the sensations were dying away and mum took her mouth from my penis and looked up at me, a pearly string joining her lower lip to my cockhead.

She licked the string away and got up and crawled onto the bed, lying on her back, with her head on the pillows. As I watched, numb from my orgasm, she raised her hips and reached down, removing her panties and throwing them on the bedroom floor, her legs wide in obvious invitation.

I knelt between my mother's thighs and lowered my head to her pussy. It was the first time I had really seen her cunt properly; Her pubic hair was light brown and rather sparse, her labia were very thick and neat and were parted slightly to reveal a glimpse of wet, pink flesh inside. Again, I was overwhelmed with love for this woman who, against all societal norms and indeed against the law of the land, was giving herself to me so freely and completely.

'I love you, Mum,' I said, then I leaned over and pressed my face into her wet cunt, feeling her hair tickle my nose, feeling her outer labia part to allow my tongue in, tasting her most intimate secretions, revelling in the saltiness and muskiness.

I licked and sucked and pushed my tongue in as far into my mother as I could get it. I took her cunt lips into my mouth and nibbled them gently until she squealed. I moved up until my nose slipped past her clitoris and my tongue made contact with the little nub and mum jerked on the bed and put her hands on the back of my head and pressed me to her. I slid two fingers into her sopping pussy and sucked her clit into my mouth and mum writhed and gasped and hissed, 'Yes, Martin, yes! Make me come! Make Mummy come!'

Near the end she started shivering and, knowing it probably wasn't the right thing to do, I took my fingers from mum's cunt and slid the middle one about three inches into her anus. Mum screamed and thrashed her head and her legs muscles went taut as she thrust her hips up into my face.

Her climax seemed to go on for a long time, but eventually she gave a chocking gasp and raised her head and slammed it back on the pillow and I stopped licking her and she said, 'Oh, God, oh God,' over and over.

Despite having come about fifteen minutes ago, I was rampantly hard again. A combination of the smells and tastes of my mother's loins, the feel of her labia against my tongue and the memory of her mouth on my cock and how it had felt to ejaculate into my mother's mouth. So I mounted her in the missionary position and rammed my cock into her sopping cunt and mum cried out again as I started fucking her with long, liquid strokes. Kissing her neck and shoulders and lips, pushing my tongue into her mouth and tasting my discharge on her tongue.

But because I'd come so recently I wasn't ready for another climax yet and I rammed in and out of my mother and she gasped and groaned and locked her legs over mine and I kissed her and told her I loved her and she said, 'I love you too, Martin. Oh God how I love you!'

At one point I withdrew and knelt up.

'Turn over, Mum,' I ordered her, breathlessly.

She obediently rolled over onto her hands and knees and presented me with her naked arse, her buttocks big and pale and inviting. I shuffled between her legs and rubbed my cock up and down her arse crack, seeking, and finding, her slit. I pushed into her hot wetness, deeper than ever, and mum gasped and braced her arms and pushed back at me as I started a rhythmic fucking that thudded my groin into her bum cheeks and slapped my balls against her thigh, holding her hips in my hands and slamming in and out of her cunt. I realised as I looked down on her that she was still wearing her bra, so I paused to unclip it and it fell off her shoulders and arms.

I could see my mother's anus as I fucked her from behind, an enticing dark-pink pucker, and I teased it with the tip of one finger, pressing lightly and making mum groan with pleasure.

After about five minutes of frenzied thrusting I took my cock out of my mother again and roughly rolled her over onto her back. Then I was inside her again, thrusting hard, holding her wrists, pinning her to the duvet while I pushed my tongue into her mouth, devouring my mother, aroused like never before, transported to a higher plane of pleasure and forbidden lust, kissing and sucking her nipples, biting them until she squealed with pain and pleasure.

And then my second orgasm was building, bigger, deeper and more fundamental than the first. I pounded her cunt and gasped, 'I'm coming, Mum!' and she locked her legs over mine and thrust her hips to meet me and as she did this she started making a sort of half-moaning, crying noise as her climax overwhelmed her and mine swelled and blossomed and blotted out everything apart from my mother underneath me and the utter bliss of an incest-fired orgasm. The utter bliss of ejaculating inside my own mother.

After the sensations had subsided and the room had come back into focus I rolled breathless off my mother and lay on my back and she came into my arms and laid her head on my chest and I stroked her silver mane and kissed the top of her head as my breathing returned to normal and my heartrate slowed.

'Was it good for you, Mum?' I asked, a bit embarrassed about using such a tired old cliché but wanting to hear my mother tell me how it had felt for her.

'I think you know perfectly well how good it was for me, Martin,' she said with a smile in her voice. But if your ego wants me to spell it out then I will.

'I have never had so many orgasms before. Making love with you is literally a revelation and I am so grateful to you for being so kind to me. And do you know what, Martin,' she went on. 'I feel no guilt whatsoever. None. I am just pleased that we have done what we've done.'

'Sorry about putting my finger up... you know,' I said, hoping to start a conversation on anal sex.

'It was very naughty, Martin. And it made me come very strongly. But before you go getting ideas, I don't think I want anything any bigger up there, thank you.'

We got up soon afterwards and went out for a walk in the cold January sunshine. Later on I cooked dinner and afterwards we watched television, snuggled together on my sofa and then we went to bed and made love again and it was slow and gentle and very, very loving and I came inside my mother again with a feeling of such perfect love that I nearly cried.

We made love again early on Monday morning and I'd like to be able to say that that was wonderful too, but in reality it was a bit rushed and afterwards I showered quickly and dressed in a suit and tie and kissed mum goodbye as she sat watching morning television in one of my old dressing gowns. Just like ten million other couples up and down the country.

Epilogue

This story is all about the start of the sexual and emotional relationship between my mother and myself and it is no exaggeration to say that it was life-changing, particularly for my mother. We made love as often as we could, slept together every time dad was away. And over the next few months she grew and blossomed into a confident and secure lady with a normal level of self-esteem.

So much so that about three months later she confronted my father and accused him of having an affair. She didn't have a great deal of hard evidence apart from the text message that I'd glimpsed but dad caved in and admitted that he was in what he called a "serious relationship" with his work colleague. Mum promptly threw him out, which I guess you could call a bit hypocritical given that she was in a "serious relationship" with her son, but he'd treated her shittily for years and he deserved it.

I rented my flat and moved back into my childhood home and lived as man and wife with my mother for the next four years; four years of an intensely satisfying and fulfilling relationship; four years of wonderful sex.

We tried every position we could think of; we tried bondage, including the occasional use of a gag; we even tried anal sex a couple of times but it was uncomfortable, if not actually painful, for my mother so we stopped doing it, although mum grew to like having a finger pushed up her arse very much indeed, especially as she was on the brink of an orgasm.

Then, shortly after mum's sixty-fifth birthday, she sat me down one dismal Sunday afternoon and told me that she thought we should stop our physical affair. I was devastated, but mum's arguments were logical and persuasive. She reasoned that if we carried on much longer then I might possibly miss out on having a family, and she didn't know how long she could maintain such an intense physical relationship.

In one of life's little coincidences, Natalie, the receptionist at Mercedes, had broken off her engagement to one of my colleagues at about the same time and we came together neatly on the rebound.

Natalie is smart and funny and sassy and after we got together she went to night-school and trained to be an accountant. Two years later we were married and now we have a daughter and a son - grandchildren for my mother.