Swimming with Mum Ch. 03

"Next time you come home it will be for the summer!" Mum says, sounding excited. "It'll be great to have you back for an extended time. And, you can go back to mowing the lawn, which I hate." She grins, and I smile back, laughing a little. Even with my weird little fantasies, I still loved her for being my Mum and knew that I could rely on her.

My self-control about not obsessing about Lydia lasted until the first time I saw her after I got back, on a warm afternoon when she was wearing a summery dress which was working hard to contain her boobs. I realised, with a sinking feeling, that my attempts to stop thinking about her had just meant that now I had two women to fantasize about instead of one. It doesn't bear thinking about, how many times I masturbated and thought about them, even though my rational brain was yelling at me to stop. I badly needed a girlfriend, I decided, and deliberately signed myself up for a football team social on Saturday night. I was going to pull someone no matter what, I told myself.

This daring plan was totally derailed by a phone call from my dad in the middle of the week.

"Listen, Dave, I'm actually visiting a mate to pick something up in Sheffield on Saturday and I wondered if you'd be around?"

I hesitated. It was too cold to say no, so I hastily tried to think of something we could do to keep him away from embarrassing me in front of my friends. Luckily, he got there first.

"I thought we could go out somewhere for lunch and then spend the afternoon in town?"

"Okay, yeah, I can do that."

So far, so good, until he dropped the bombshell.

"And listen, Dave, you'd be doing me a massive favour if I could just kip overnight on the floor of your flat? I can't face a hotel."

My heart sank. So much for a Saturday night out on the pull.

"Okay, yeah, that should be fine," I said, but my half-hearted tone was obvious.

"Don't worry about me, I'll keep myself to myself," Dad insisted. "I'll go for a walk if you've got a lady friend to entertain."

"Not a problem, Dad, just... never say that again," I told him, through gritted teeth.

The strange thing was, my Dad was actually quite cool. Unlike some people's parents, who were mostly into crosswords and weeding the garden, he liked motorbikes, women and booze. He was tall, like me, with a shaved head and he was still in shape from all his work on the rig. I could see why he never had any problem finding women, but unfortunately, the appeal of the older man overshadowed whatever I was offering.

When Dad arrived at the flat, an overnight bag over his shoulder, we stopped in the kitchen for a drink and Lydia, plus a couple of girlfriends, looked in on us. All three of the girls got giggly when they got introduced to Dad, who turned on the charm and did plenty of flirting, acting shocked at how good they looked.

"Back in my day, uni girls all wore cardigans and no makeup," he said, chuckling as he sipped his tea. "Maybe I need to look into one of these degrees."

This sent them all into another giggling fit and, once they'd torn themselves away, I gave Dad a dark look, which he ignored.

"Tell you what, that one with the glasses is something, huh?" he said, grinning at me.

"That's Lydia, she lives in the room next to mine," I said. "And she has a boyfriend."

Dad shrugged. "At your age, boyfriends don't mean anything," he said dismissively.

"She's half your age, Dad, you should know better," I tried.

"No harm in looking!" he laughed, patting my shoulder. "Listen, mate, if I were you I'd forget about this so-called boyfriend and see about getting my end away with her. If nothing else, it'll give you something to look back on when you're my age."

I feigned being sick, but I was a guy who fantasized about his own mum, so who was I to be handing out the advice on what was right or wrong.

There was no way I could face the football social with my dad tagging along, and leaving him in my room on his own wasn't fair, so instead I took him out to a quiet local pub for a couple of drinks. There was no chance for me to pull, since I was the youngest guy in there, but I hadn't accounted for a gaggle of middle-aged office workers who were having a leaving do for one of their colleagues. Dad latched on to a group of women sharing a bottle of white wine and worked his magic, meaning that by closing time, he was sharing a taxi with a dark-haired woman who was at least close to his own age, and I walked home on my own.

Don't wait up! Dad texted me, and I ignored it. I had to be the only guy in the world who was going to be alone on Saturday night while his own Dad scored with a woman he just met. Absolutely sickening.

I wasn't in the best mood, obviously, when I got back, but one ray of light was the fact that Lydia was sitting in the kitchen, wrapped in a dressing gown.

"I thought you were out with the girls?" I asked moodily, grabbing some cereal from the cupboard.

"Imogen got sick, I think someone might've tried to spike her drink," Lydia explained. "We took her back to her flat and put her to bed, but it ruined the night, really."

I just grunted in response, and Lydia picked up on my mood.

"Where's your dad?" she asked.

"Out," I said flatly.

She studied my expression, but couldn't resist teasing me. "If I'd known your dad was so hot, I would've changed my plans," she grinned.

I slumped into the chair opposite her and shook my head in disbelief. "Not you too," I said, defeated.

"He's not really my type," Lydia reassured me, "But you should've heard Imogen going on and on about him. She practically wet her pants when he said that thing about cardigans."

Lydia had been giggling just as much as the others, but I decided I had to forgive if I was going to move on.

"He's always had a way with women," I admit, sighing. "Don't tell him about her being interested, it'll only encourage him."

Lydia smirked. "I expect she'll only take it as far as her imagination," she said suggestively, "I mean, if she wasn't so sick."

Hot uni girls fantasize about my dad, but I can't get any action. Perfect.

I sat, brooding, for a few minutes more, and then Lydia got up.

"I'm going to bed. Might as well make the most of not being hungover in the morning and get up early," she said. "Might see you around?"

I just nodded, watching her go. I was too gutted even to masturbate, and the icing on the cake of the crap weekend was when Dad just texted to say Thanks for seeing me, I'm gonna get a train straight from Shirley's, talk soon and Lydia got invited to a theatre event so I didn't even see her on Sunday.

Exams consumed what was left of the term, which meant there was hardly any socialising, and even my study sessions with Lydia really meant studying, instead of talking and pretending to study. I repeatedly told myself that I'd finally score the shag I wanted at the post-exam blowout parties, but Lydia finished her exams three days before mine and immediately went to stay with Mark for a week. We texted, of course, but a lot of my texts went unanswered and I got the impression she was having a lot more fun than I was.

Finally, I got myself out for a football social after my exams finished. We were starting with a bar crawl and then hitting some clubs, and I made every preparation to get some action. Aftershave, a new haircut, my best clothes. By the time we arrived at the first nightclub, I'd had plenty to drink and felt confident, and I couldn't believe my good luck when I got chatting with a good-looking girl in a tight red dress while we were waiting at the bar.

"I'm Tanya," she practically shouted into my ear over the music.

"Dave," I replied, then had to repeat it because she didn't hear it.

I let her go first to get her drinks, but as she collected them, I realised I was missing my chance.

"Do you want to dance?" I shouted at her before she could go.

"Okay," she replied, nodding but not smiling. "Let me give these to my mates, first."

She disappeared into the crowd and, once I had my drink, I stayed near the bar and waited for her to come back. You probably already guessed it, knowing my luck, but she never returned, and even when I wandered around the club, I couldn't see her anywhere. Eventually I concluded she must have left, and saved my ego by convincing myself it was because her friends wanted to leave, not because she was repulsed by me.

Half an hour before closing, I was so desperate that I started hitting on a woman with tons of piercings who was definitely not my type at all. She seemed receptive, and I was completely smashed, so I kept it up until my mates arrived, took one look at her, and dragged me away despite my protests. I woke up the next morning with regrets, a hangover, an empty wallet and still no idea how I'd spent an entire year at uni and not even had sex once. I consoled myself with elaborate daydreams about getting rid of Mark and Lydia falling into bed with me, but even that was growing tiresome. The summer break was three months long, and I'd have to spend all three of them in a small house with Mum, trying to pretend I didn't think she was hot.

The summer break was pure sexual torture. The object of my dreams who I might be able to get (Lydia) was too far away, and her texts got sparser and shorter as the summer went on. The other object of my dreams was way too close for comfort. Weekly swimming, which Mum looked forward to so much, started to turn into something I dreaded. I forced myself to cum in the shower before we left, so I would feel as far away from horny as possible, but this only annoyed Mum ("you can shower there!") and didn't do me much good anyway. By the time we'd travelled to the pool, got changed and I saw her in her swimming costume, I was back to lusting after her. She looked gorgeous, her curvy figure accentuated by the tight-fitting costume, and in the few moments I wasn't staring at her myself, I could see middle-aged dads checking her out too. I felt grossed out by this, but I was hardly any better myself. It would be so much easier if Mum was just a total stranger at the pool, so I could admire her guilt-free like all those other guys. But it was my curse to have to go home with her afterwards.

I'll be completely honest here: I was a horny mess. By the end of July, whether it was the hot nights or the total lack of sex in my life, ever, or even just some hormonal cycle, I was practically turned on every minute I wasn't asleep. And even then, I occasionally woke up feeling like I must have just had a sexual dream, but unfortunately I couldn't remember it. When Mum was at work during the week I could put on headphones and masturbate to porn on my laptop as much as I wanted, but that was getting boring. A couple of slightly-drunk text messages to Lydia which were flirty didn't get any response. I'd even gone as far as looking up some girls from my old school and thinking about messaging them, but that seemed way too desperate considering most of them had barely liked me in the first place. All of this constant horniness had built up to a climax I didn't see coming, and it needed an outlet. That outlet came one night, very suddenly, and it was a night which would change my life.

It was a Friday night and Mum had been working until fairly late. When she came in, she was carrying fish and chips and apologised for the delay - apparently there had been a double-booking for Monday or something and she'd had to stay and help sort it out. In an attempt to not feel so horny, and to take my mind off morning swimming, I'd actually tried to do some of my summer assignments that day, so actually I didn't mind the delay. It was the start of the weekend for Mum, so we watched TV and she finished half a bottle of wine, complaining loudly about one of her colleagues while I pretended to listen, sipping my way through two cans of beer. Mum had changed out of her work clothes into comfy pyjamas and, while she still looked amazing, it wasn't exactly sexy enough to get my mind racing and keep my attention.

"I'm absolutely exhausted, I'm going to run a bath," she eventually announced, apparently unable to face the prospect of the ten o'clock news. "You gonna stay down here?"

I shrugged. "Probably for a bit."

"Turn the volume down a few notches so you don't disturb the neighbours," she said as she ambled off, taking her empty wine glass with her. I heard the fridge door open, which meant she was getting the rest of the bottle to drink in the bath, then she went upstairs.

I thought no more about it, distracted by something I was reading on my phone, until about half an hour later, when the TV was reading out the weather forecast, a message popped up on my phone.

Mum: Did you turn the TV down? x

I rolled my eyes and turned the volume right down with the remote. I wasn't watching it, anyway, only keeping it on so I didn't have to sit in silence.

Me: Just did, sorry

There was a lull and I went back to reading my article, interrupted when my phone went off again.

Mum: Still haven't had any messages from decent men on my online dating app!! Meant to tell you earlier but I forgot x

Me: You don't need to keep me informed about your online dating

Mum: I'm always interested in your love life

Me: Too interested!

Mum: Surely I'm not too old yet that you think I'm disgusting?

Me: You know I don't think that, you look amazing, any guy would be lucky to date you

Mum: Do you mean that? :)

Me: Yeah

Mum: Maybe I could get to know a guy from the pool, there always seem to be some who are interested

Me: Seriously?

Mum: Why not? At least we'd have one thing in common

Me: What if they're all perverts or whatever, picking up women at the pool

Mum: And you think guys online dating aren't?

Me: True!

Mum: Anyway I know that they aren't all perverts

Me: How can you possibly know that

Mum: Maybe they're just sexually frustrated!

Me: Old guys always are

Mum: Who said he was old?!

I had to take a pause here. My heart had started beating fast and I felt a flutter of nerves. What was going on? Were we flirting? Was Mum implying she knew I looked at her when we were swimming? There definitely weren't any other guys there who were my age, but maybe she just meant a guy in his twenties or thirties. I was convinced I was overthinking it.

Me: The leisure centre isn't exactly full of young people, everyone goes to the new gym in the retail park

Mum: I bet nobody is sexually frustrated there!

Me: Ha ha. I definitely wouldn't want to use the changing rooms if they hadn't been cleaned

Mum: Why? Are they dirty?

Me: I meant that they're all having sex there

Mum: Ohh I get it. I should go there, then! ;)

Me: I would join you!

Oh crap.

So, obviously I meant, I would also like to go to the new gym in the retail park if everyone was having sex there, because that meant I could have sex. Totally separately from Mum. Not together, at all. I didn't mean I wanted to join her. But, I can already hear the reaction: "that was totally subconscious, just your fingers typing what you really meant". Maybe recurring fantasies about fucking my mum in the changing rooms at the leisure centre had finally come back to haunt me. In any case, I panicked and started to type a retraction, to clarify things, to apologise. But I saw 'Mum is typing...' appear and I held my breath.

Mum: Do you think someone your age would be interested in me?

Okay, not the end of the world, but this is definitely weird, right? I needed to apologise and tell her what I meant. But, there was the faintest glimmer of something there. A possibility. It crossed my mind that Mum was probably naked in the bath right as she was typing and I couldn't stop myself.

Me: Definitely!

Mum: What would someone your age like about me?

Me: You look amazing, you're really pretty, funny, smart...

Mum: Would they think I looked good?

Me: Of course, you look really good for someone your age

Mum: I mean would they think I was fit? Sexy?

Briefly, memories of school friends making idle comments about how fit my mum was flashed across my mind. Obviously she was sexy. But I was increasingly concerned that 'someone my age' was code for something else.

Me: They would

Mum: Would they share a changing room with me?

Okay, even my horny side was starting to freak out. What was I supposed to do here? This was clearly flirting. But was it just harmless flirting to help Mum's ego? Was she serious?

Me: If you gave them a chance, yeah!

I waited, anxious, tense, my heart beating a billion times a minute. But Mum didn't reply right away, and when she did, it wasn't what I expected.

Mum: OK. Don't stay up too late watching TV x

Me: I won't...

And that was it. End of conversation. I heard Mum getting out of the bath and draining it, then getting ready for bed and turning her light out. I stayed downstairs, re-reading the conversation, my brain screaming that something had happened, something was going on. I just didn't know what.

The next morning, we ate breakfast and then headed for the pool without saying anything on the topic. I half-expected Mum to proposition me and suggest we share that changing room, but she didn't, obviously, and our swim was as normal as it could be. I still caught myself staring at her cleavage and her bum, but that wasn't new. She didn't seem embarrassed or guilty, like I felt, and as the weekend passed I convinced myself that it was just some harmless banter and I was the weird pervert reading something into it.

I managed to maintain this illusion for exactly a week, until Mum decided to repeat Friday night. This time, admittedly, we had home-cooked fish fingers, chips and peas, but after an hour of TV, Mum departed to the bath with her wine. I switched off the TV this time, stretched myself full length on the sofa, and tried to get into a book I was supposed to be reading for an assignment. Inevitably, my phone went off and distracted me.

Mum: Have you heard from Lydia lately? x

Me: Not really, I think she might be on holiday

Mum: Can't she text you from her holiday?

Me: Probably, I don't know

Mum: Sounds like you've moved on!

Me: Maybe I have

Mum: Got someone else on your mind?

Me: I might do

Mum: You have to tell me all about her!

Me: She's gorgeous, attractive, huge smile, and huge something else...

Mum: Don't be dirty! How come you haven't mentioned her before?

Me: I'm sure I have

Mum: I would remember! Do you text her?

Me: Yes

Mum: Do you want to take her to the gym? ;)

Me: Now who's being dirty?

Mum: Sorry! But answer the question

Me: Maybe I do

I was so confused. My cock was absolutely as hard as a rock in my trousers, painfully so, restricted by my underwear, but part of my mind was still screaming at me to stop. On the other hand, I felt like Mum was totally instigating all this so it's not like it's my fault. And anyway, even though it definitely seemed like flirting, maybe Mum still thought this was just her trying to be encouraging and more open?

My final attempt to kid myself went up in smoke when I saw her next message.

Mum: Are you thinking about being at the gym with her right now? x

It was the kiss on the end of the message that just sealed it. There was no way Mum was oblivious enough not to know how I would interpret it. If my girlfriend had texted me that I would be going wild with desire, so Mum must know it's wrong. And she sent it anyway. There was no way I was going to be the bigger person at this stage.

Me: I definitely am...

Mum: What are you doing with her?

Me: We're showering together

There was a longer pause this time before Mum texted me back. I spent most of the pause rubbing my cock through my trousers, incredibly turned on by this whole situation.