Pictures of My Mother

"Oh, that’s sweet," she said.

"There was one of you," I said, "In a bra and panties… That was my favourite"

Mum looked at me with her mouth open in mock surprise, but a smile in her eyes. "Why, Richard…" She shook her head, pretending to be shocked. "Well," she said, "I’ve got to admit I did look pretty hot back then."

"You still do," I said quickly.

"Oh, you’re a darling," she said.

"Let me take some more pictures of you," I said.

"Sure," she said, standing up and running her hands down the front of her dress, straightening it. "What would you like me to do?"

"Would you…" My throat was dry. I thought I might be making a terrible mistake. "What I’d really like you to do is…would you take your dress off?"

For a few seconds it seemed like there was silence. The music must have still been going but I didn’t hear it. Mum was staring at me.

"Why…" she said at last, her voice barely audible. "Why do you want me to do that?"

"Because you’re beautiful. And - and I found these." I went over to the whicker basket and pulled out the magazine she was in.

Mum raised her hand to her mouth when she saw it. "Oh, I should have hidden that," she said, looking embarrassed.

"No," I said, opening the magazine to her photospread, and holding it up. "They’re beautiful photos. I’d love you to pose for me…like that. Please pose for me. It would be great experience for me…" I realised I was sounding a bit desperate, but I didn’t care by now.

Another pause. She started to say something, but her voice trailed off and she turned away and took a step towards the bedroom. I thought she was going to bed and my heart sank. I HAD made a terrible mistake. Then she stopped and, in a moment I will never forget, that seemed to go in slow motion, she reached behind her back and, finding the zipper on her dress, pulled it down.

She turned to face me again, not really looking at me now. My heart was pounding as I raised the camera. Mum began to pull the top of her dress down, pausing when it was bunched about her waist, and put her hands on her hips, thrusting her chest out a little. She was wearing a white lace bra, through the material of which I could just make out the outline of her large nipples. I began to snap some pictures, my hands shaking, hardly bothering to frame the shots properly. I walked around her as she continued to push the dress down until it fell at her feet, and she stepped out of it and kicked it away. Clad only in bra and white panties now she gazed at me, seemingly at ease now, and raised her hands behind her head so that her breasts jutted our enticingly. I saw that she had put on a little weight since the pictures in the magazine had been taken, that her stomach was a little rounded now, but that just made her look more voluptuous.

And then a strange thing happened to me. All the nervousness went out of me. Suddenly, as the photographer, I felt in control of the situation. Looking through the viewfinder at her, I began to tell her how to pose, how to turn, and she did as I said.

I took some close-ups of her face, then took a few steps back and reloaded the camera. I could feel a hollow ache in my groin.

I raised, then lowered, the camera again. Did I dare go through with this? But I was the photographer, I told myself. "Mum," I said, "take off your bra."

And Mum, like the good model she was, did as she was asked.

Reaching her hands up to the bra straps, she slid them over her shoulders and I saw I saw her big breasts slacken a bit. And then, taking hold of the straps at the front, she pulled the cups down and her breasts spilled out, even larger than in the magazine photos, the nipples plump and brown.

"God," I said under my breath. "You’re gorgeous." And she smiled and cupped her tits in her hands and lifted them a little, the nipples pointing at me as I took some shots.

Then I stopped taking pictures. Putting the camera on the floor, I stepped toward my mother, her breasts sticking obscenely out of her bra. I stood in front of her, looking into her eyes, and for a few seconds we just looked at each other, and then I raised my hands and put them onto her bare breasts.

"Richard," she whispered, "what are you doing?"

I didn’t say anything. Instead I bent down and kissed her right breast, and sucked the stubby nipple into my mouth. I had one impossibly round, warm breast in each hand, feeling their heaviness, as my mouth moved from one to the other, licking and sucking the nipples so they grew wet with my saliva. I took in their every detail, the small mole above the nipple of her left breast, the almost invisible, pale golden hairs on them, the blue veins faintly discernible beneath the otherwise white skin. I was in a revery.

Eventually I straightened up. Mum had her eyes closed and was breathing heavily. I put my arms around her.

"Richard, don’t," she said softly.

"I love you," I said, and my mouth found hers. I kissed her, slipped my tongue between her lips, and her tongue touched it and we kissed deeply as I hugged her, squeezing her tits against my chest.

We broke off kissing. Mum’s cheeks were red. "We shouldn’t be doing this." she said.

"Why not? Don’t you want to?"

"I…I don’t know."

My hands were on her breasts again, squeezing them, and then I ran them down her sides, and over her thighs. I fell to my knees, my cock hard in my pants now, and pressed my face against her smooth, rounded belly. My cheek brushed against the waistband of her panties, and reaching up I ran my fingertips over the panty material, which was smooth like satin. I could feel Mum trembling now. I reached around her waist, my hands cupping her round buttocks, my lips touching the front of her panties, tracing the plump mound of her crotch, and hooking my fingers into the waistband at the back of her panties began to pull them down. "No, don’t…" I could hear Mum saying from what sounded like a long way away, but I kept pulling them down until they fell away at the front and I found myself staring at my mother’s pussy, and saw with surprise and jolt of excitement that her pubic hair had been recently shaved and her crotch was quite bare, and grabbing her by the hips I pressed my face between her legs, smelling her cunt smell, my tongue licking hungrily at her slit.

Mum let out a sigh and I felt her knees buckles and she fell back on the couch. I fell on her, unable to control myself now, and parting her knees began to lick the amber folds of her open cunt, which was slippery with her juices. "Oh God," Mum was saying, "Oh my God."

I stopped, stood up, my confused brain trying to take in the enormity of what was happening. I looked down at Mum sitting on the lounge. She still had her bra on, tits hanging down over it, some red marks on them now from where I had attacked them. I took her by the hands and pulled her up, and she stood up unsteadily. "Come on," I said, leading her along, my arm around her shoulder, and we stumbled the few feet into her bedroom.

Mum sat down heavily on the bed, one arm raised to cover her breasts, not looking at me as I undid my jeans and pulled them and my underpants off. I sat down next to her, my cock standing up stiffly, the head shiny, and pulling her arm away from her breasts I kissed them again. Then I pushed her back onto the bed and positioned myself between her legs, my cock resting on her stomach. She had her eyes closed as I let the head of my dick slide down her belly, leaving a little trail of precum on it, until it was pressing against her slit.

"Oh God, Richard…"

And then I was fucking her - fucking my mother, my beautiful, sexy, big breasted, bikini-model mother who I had fantasised about for so long and whose pictures I had masturbated over so many times. I was really doing it. I watched, amazed, my cock plunging into her shaved pussy, and her big breasts, flattened and wobbling liquidly as my dick plumbed the depths of her hot, wet cunt. I pushed by face against her tits and sucked at them as I kept fucking her, and she began to cry out and grabbed me around the neck, her face all creased up, and she cried out again, hips bucking, her crotch grinding into mine, and I knew she was coming and I couldn’t hold back any longer and I came with the most explosive orgasm of my life, flooding my mother’s cunt with my sperm.

I collapsed onto her, struggling to get my breath back for a few seconds, my face on her shoulder, my cock still inside her, gradually softening. Reluctantly I pulled out and rolled onto my side, one arm around Mum. She began to cry.

"What’s wrong?" I asked, kissing her face, which was wet with tears. "What’s the matter?"

"Oh, Richard. What have we done?"

"Nothing I didn’t want, and I’ve wanted for a long time. I love you, Mum. Thank you. Oh, thank you." I wrapped my arms about her and we hugged each other, and gradually her sobbing subsided, and I drifted off to an ecstatically happy, drunken sleep.

I woke with a start, momentarily disoriented, still entwined in Mum’s arms. She was sleeping heavily. The light was still on, and looking at the clock on her bedside table I saw it was just after 4am.

Needing to pee badly I extricated myself from Mum’s arms – she muttered something incoherent but didn’t wake up – and went to the toilet. When I came back in I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her sleeping body. She lay with her back to me, part of a tangled sheet twisted around her waist and covering her bum.

I sidled up against her and, brushing a tangle of blonde hair from her face, kissed her on the cheek. She looked so beautiful, I thought. She still had her bra on, and I unhooked it at the back and pulled it off her, then reached around and started to fondle her breasts, which felt incredibly soft and vulnerable.

I ran my hand down her side, coming to where she was covered with the sheet. Lying on the bed, positioning myself so that my face was a few inches from her bottom, I gently pulled the sheet away. Grabbing my cock, which was rapidly growing hard, with one hand, I parted her buttocks with the other, and stared reverently at her hairless pussy and wrinkled pink arsehole.

"I love you," I murmured, getting in closer, licking at her cunt lips, which were sticky with her dried juices and my cum, then working my way down the velvety soft ridge of her perineum until my tongue reached her anus which I licked slowly and methodically, forcing my tongue into it as deeply as I could.

Feeling I was about to cum I stopped and got onto my knees. Still holding her buttocks apart with one hand, I pointed my dick and wanked myself until a my sperm spurted onto her, and then I rubbed it into both her holes.

I really was spent now. I found a pillow on the floor and lay with my head towards the foot of the bed, my face against Mum’s cool, round arse, one arm thrown over her hip, and drifted off to sleep again with my nostrils filled with a heady aroma of cunt and sperm and arsehole.

I woke again after being in a deep, dreamless sleep.. I was still lying the wrong way on the bed, but now I was alone. I looked at the clock and saw it was 10:30. I listened for sounds in the flat but couldn’t hear anything. I stood up groggily - I had a bit of a headache which often happens after I drink wine, found my underpants among Mum’s clothes which were scattered on the floor and put them on, and walked into the kitchen. I poured a glass of water from the tap and gulped it down. Then I noticed a note on the table, addressed to me. In it, Mum wrote that she’d had to go and do something but she would be home around seven and then we would talk about what had happened last night.

I spent the day in a torment of emotions. I still wasn’t really clear on the implications of what we had done, and I still could barely take it all in. But there were a few things I was sure of. The first was that I didn’t feel at all guilty. The second was I wanted to fuck my mother again more than anything else in the world. I was stricken by the idea that I might not be able to.

I had cup of coffee, then another, and still felt terrible. I started sneezing and began to feel feverish, and realised I wasn’t just hungover but was coming down with the flu or something. I went out and bought some tablets at a chemist, but they didn’t do much. I ended up spending the afternoon lying on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me, having hot and cold sweats, too sick to read or watch television.

I was dozing when I heard the door open quietly and Mum walked into the lounge room. "Richard, what’s wrong?" she said when she saw me.

"I’m sick," I said in a croaky voice. "Got the flu."

"Oh, are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

"Something to drink?" I said.

"Of course." She went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of orange juice. "You’re sweating," she said, putting her hand to my forehead. "You’ve got a fever. I think you’d better get into bed. I’ll go and make it up." She disappeared into her bedroom.

She came back a few minutes later. "Come on, let’s get you in there," she said leading me into the bedroom where she got me to strip down to my underpants, deposited me between clean sheets and threw some blankets over me. Then she picked up the chair that sat before her dressing table and, placing it next to the bed, sat down. She reached out and took my hand.

"Richard, I know it’s not the best time to talk right now, but last night… I’m sorry about what happened last night. It shouldn’t have happened. I hope…I hope that you don’t think badly of me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I know I’ve made some mistakes in the past, and I’ve never been much of a mother…"

"Don’t be silly. I loved what happened last night." I looked into her eyes, willing her to believe me. I put my arms up and hugged her, my face against her breast. She ran her fingers through my hair, which was damp with sweat.

"Well, anyway, I think it would be best if we just forgot about what happened. Can we do that?" I nodded. She kissed me on the forehead. "You’d better get some rest then."

I drifted into a fitful sleep for a while, then woke to see Mum standing in the doorway. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked. I shook my head. I was actually feeling a bit better, but I didn’t want to let on about that.

"Oh, you’re still all sweaty. Hang on a minute." She went into the bathroom and I heard water running, and she came back with a small cloth and a bowel of hot water. She dipped the cloth in the water and wiped my face, neck and shoulders. I closed my eyes. "That feels nice," I said.

I felt her pull the sheets and blankets down to my waist, and she began to wipe the cloth over my chest and stomach, and then paused. I could feel her fingers touching my underpants. "We’d better get these off, they’re wet," she said. "Lift up." I lifted my hips from the bed and she pulled my underpants down and off. She picked up the cloth and wiped over my chest, then down again and I felt it brush against my penis. Even though I was still a bit sick and shivery, it sent a thrill through me.

She began to wipe down between my thighs and then she paused. I kept my eyes closed. I could feel my cock tingling. Then I felt the damp cloth on my balls and running up the shaft. I shuddered involuntarily and she stopped again. I could feel my cock moving against my belly as it gradually grew hard. My whole body, still a little shivery and feverish, seemed to be concentrated in it. I thought of the polaroid of Mum sucking the guy off.

"Mum," I whispered.

"Yes," she said. I opened my eyes.

"Touch it…please."

Another agonising pause. Mum looked at me, uncertainty in her eyes, and sighed.

Dropping the cloth into the bowl she placed her hand on my cock, then took hold of it by her fingertips, sliding as she did so off the bed into a kneeling position onto the floor, squeezing my cock now, tugging at it, then leaning forward and yes, putting her mouth to it, taking the head of it in and sucking it. Oh, God, I felt delirious with it. My mother was sucking me off. Squeezing my balls. Pushing her head down so my cock, now fully erect, was plunged deep in her mouth.

Suddenly she stopped. Stood up. She was wearing a white blouse and short grey skirt, and reaching under the skirt with a rapid motion pulled her panties down and kicked them off. Straddled me on the bed, with one hand guiding my dick into the hot wetness of her cunt, pushing down on me, taking me into her.

My body arched as I thrust into her. With eager hands I tore her blouse open and, pulled her bra down so her big teats hung gloriously in front of my face, and I grabbed them and sucked them into my mouth. Her body bucked up and down violently, slapping against my groin, and she let out a shriek.

She fell upon me, her weight pressing on me, lying still now, her arms wrapped around my head, kissing the top of my head. And it was only then, when my face still buried in her wonderful breasts, that I came myself, my cock twitching and spasming as my sperm slid into her, into the cunt that bore me.

For a while we lay a tangled mass, my face still smothered by her breasts, one swollen, bruised nipple in my sight.

"Mum," I said, "Could I stay a while?"

She sighed. "You can stay as long as you like," she said.