The Master of the House

'Lovely,' I smiled. 'I'll be proud to escort you this evening.' She blushed and looked at her watch.

'What time is the taxi coming?'

'About fifteen minutes,' I said, leaping up and heading upstairs to the bathroom.

As before, Antonio met us at the door and I explained that it was my mother's birthday and he said how lovely she looked and kissed her hand and she blushed and cooed as I steered her to our table.

The meal lasted for over two hours. This was deliberate as I reasoned that the longer it went on the more Chianti I could persuade my mother to drink and the more malleable she would be later. And if you think this was shitty behaviour then you are right, but my desire to have my mother was overwhelming and I was way beyond any moral considerations. As it turned out, she didn't need a whole lot of persuasion. She had a gin and tonic before we ate, most of a bottle of the fruity Italian red with the meal and a brandy to finish. I hadn't seen her drink so much before but she seemed perfectly compos mentis, until we got outside and the cool night air hit her. Then she slumped against me and giggled. 'I think I've had a bit too much to drink, aren't I awful, David?' Fortunately the taxi rank was nearby and we got home without incident. Mum was very chatty on the drive home, thanking me for the lovely meal and for her presents and for giving her a wonderful birthday. Back home I installed her on the settee in the living room and opened a bottle of red and poured us both a glass.

'Are you trying to get me drunk,' she giggled.

'How would you feel if I were,' I asked, levelly, looking at her.

'It depends,' she said, softly.

I felt that roaring in my ears again that presaged a defining moment. 'Well suppose I was trying to get you drunk so that I could take you to bed?'

My mother was silent for what seemed like ages. She wasn't looking at me, she was looking at her wineglass, which she was clasping in both hands. 'What do you want me to do?' she whispered, eventually.

I gently took the wineglass from her hands; she wouldn't be needing that now. 'I want you to go upstairs and use the bathroom and then I want you to get into bed and wait for me.'

She stood up, slightly unsteady on her feet, and moved to the door. I heard her going upstairs and, a few minutes later, the sound of the toilet flushing and the tap running in the sink as she brushed her teeth. I looked around the living room. It looked the same as always. But everything was different. I was about to go upstairs and have sexual intercourse with my mother. The most primal act of incest. The most forbidden. The most alluring. I was breathless with desire and anticipation. My cock was rigid in my trousers. But it felt weird too. And not too late to cry off, if I got cold feet. But God was I excited. Nothing in my life had come close to this, nowhere near. In the hierarchy of sin this was near the top and my goodness did I want it. I thought briefly of how my mother might be feeling but I suppressed the notion that she might be terrified.

After twenty minutes or so I got up and switched out the downstairs lights and checked that the front door was locked and I made my way to the bathroom where I rinsed my face and brushed my teeth and gargled some mouthwash. Then I went into my mother's bedroom.

It was dark. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the late summer evening light. In the gloom mum's head was a dark blob on the pillow. Her body a shapeless mound under the duvet. I undressed quickly, tossing my clothes onto the bedroom floor, then I pulled back the duvet and slid into bed beside her, offering her my arm in the gloom. She came to me and I hugged her close. She was wearing a nylon nightdress and I felt it against my chest as I pulled her to me and felt her braless breasts squash against my ribcage. My breathing was short and gasping and I could feel her heart racing. Mum might have been a bit drunk but she was very nervous and I had another spasm of guilt about what I was going to do.

Then she raised her face to mine in the dark and I felt her full lips against mine and I thought of how she'd looked in the Italian restaurant with her heavy red lipstick and her thick make up and her curvy figure and the roaring in my ears reached a crescendo and I kissed her hard, mashing our lips together, forcing my tongue into her mouth and, as we kissed, I cupped her breast and felt the heaviness off it under her nylon nightie and the big, stiff nipple grazing my palm and the thought flashed through my brain that she was aroused too and that maybe this was a two-way experience and that made me feel better, more courageous, and I stroked her breast through the flimsy material and squeezed the nipple between finger and thumb and mum pressed her mouth against mine and made little moaning noises. We kissed like this for long minutes, and mum's saliva flooded my mouth and I tasted her lipstick and felt her heavy, soft breast in my hand and I hugged her tighter and slid my hand down the front of her nightie, down her sternum, over her little pudgy tummy and down, down over her vulva, cupping it through the nylon, feeling the springiness of her thick pubic bush, feeling her shudder in my arms.

Then I was lifting the hem of her nightie, exploring underneath, feeling her soft inner thighs, feeling her pubic hair, half expecting her to push me away, aroused beyond belief that she didn't, that she opened her legs to accommodate my hand, gasping as I stroked her with my fingertips, feeling her labia in the nest of hair, stroking the lips, seeking an entrance, parting them and finding a silken liquid interior. Mum groaned as I slid a finger into her vagina and I broke our kiss and whispered: 'Are you alright?'

'Oh, God, David,' was all she said and I kissed her again and she responded by putting her hand on the back of my head and pulling my face to hers. At the same time she thrust her hips towards me, urging my finger deeper inside her. I slid my middle finger in to join the other and she cried out and sucked my lips into her mouth, and I couldn't believe that this passionate, deeply aroused lady in my arms was my mother and I couldn't believe that I had got two fingers in her sopping pussy and I was sliding them in and out and she was flexing her hips and moaning and saliva was running out of her mouth and down her chin and I was licking it up and sliding my fingers out of her pleasure hole and finding her clitoris. As I touched it for the first time she spasmed as though an electric current had passed through her and I stroked her clit and circled it with my fingertips and she groaned again, louder and said: 'Oh yes, yes!' and I masturbated her slowly and tenderly and I felt her climax build and I increased the speed of my rubbing, my fingertips flicking over her nub.

Mum came then, the first time I ever gave her an orgasm. With a long, deep groan she arched her back and cried out as the waves of pleasure flashed through her body like summer lightning. It seeming to go on a long time and I guessed there was a lot of tension and emotion to release. Eventually she went quiet and limp and snuggled into my arms and I held her tight and smelled her scent and felt her heart hammering in her ribcage.

Without saying anything I parted her legs, wide and unresisting, with my hand. Rolling between her thighs I grasped my cock and guided it to her slit. Her slippery wet labia parted easily and my cock head penetrated her for the first time and she whimpered as I slid in, to my full length, feeling her heat and the velvet grip of her vagina, marvelling that it felt as tight as any of my girlfriends' pussy's had.

Supporting myself on my elbows I started fucking my mother with long, slow strokes, coming almost all the way out and sliding back home to crunch our pelvises together with a wet slap. I found her mouth and kissed her and she grasped my upper arms and dug her nails into me and said: 'Yes, David, yes!' And I thrust harder and she met my thrusts with flexes of her hips and it felt like nothing I had ever experienced before, not even close. And it wasn't just because it was my mother underneath me but because I was discovering a sexy and sensual lady who aroused me beyond all measure and the thought of what may lie ahead was almost too much to contemplate.

I didn't last long, that first time. Within a few minutes the familiar tingling and rushing feeling of an impending climax increased and overwhelmed me and I cried out and mum gripped me painfully tight and locked her calves over the back of my legs and I came and I pumped my spunk into my mother's cunt and I wanted it to go on for the rest of eternity.

But all too soon it was over and I semi-collapsed over my mum and she hugged me and whispered in my ear, asking if it had been alright for me, but I could barely reply. I rolled off her and pulled her in for a hug and I felt sleep overtake me and I was warm and fulfilled and spent all at the same time and we both slept in each other's arms.

At some time in the night we must have separated because I woke up in the early hours and mum was facing away from me, her breathing faintly audible, slow and steady. I needed to pee and I got up as quietly as I could and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door so that the noise of me relieving myself wouldn't disturb her. Afterwards I slipped under the duvet with her and fell asleep and when I woke it was light and my mother had gone.

I lay quietly, the events of the last few hours playing in my mind. I stroked my cock, remembering how it had felt inside her and I smelled her juices on my fingers. So when mum came into the bedroom with a dressing gown over her nightie and with a cup of tea for me, I was rigid with desire again and I reached out for her but she evaded me and went downstairs, leaving me nervous, wondering how she was feeling about last night and fearing the worst.

I got up shortly afterwards; I needed to leave for work in an hour. Mum was pottering in the kitchen when I went down, shaved and dressed for work. I put my arms out and she came to me and rested her head on my shoulder.

'We need to talk,' I said. It should have been her line but I said it.

'Yes, we do,' she replied and I felt cold and nervous and I wanted to sit down with her there and then and ask her what she was thinking, how she was feeling. As if sensing this, mum broke the embrace and put my breakfast on the table. 'When you get home, David. That's when we'll talk.'

The day was unbelievably long. I played various scenarios out on my head, endlessly. She would reject me; she would be disgusted and would ask me to leave. Or she would ask me to take her to bed. She would be gone when I got home...

I stopped on the way home and bought her a huge bouquet of flowers. Pulling up outside the house my stomach was seething with nerves. I opened the door and called out and mum said, 'In here' and I went into the living room, where she was sitting on the settee, staring into space. When she saw the flowers she gave me a smile and went to arrange them in a vase and I sat on the settee and waited for her and stared into space. She came back a few minutes later and put the flowers on the coffee table before sitting down next to me.

'They're beautiful, thank you.' I wanted to put my arm around her but somehow I couldn't.

'Are you ok,' I asked, eventually.

She looked at me steadily with her deep blue eyes and I felt the stirrings of fear. 'I've done a lot of thinking today, David. I've done a lot of thinking since your father left me.' She paused and I mentally urged her to go on, which she eventually did, though it wasn't what I was expecting.

'Your father wasn't very nice to me. I don't know how much you realise that. He didn't want to marry me after he'd got me pregnant. He didn't want to be burdened with a woman like me. He told me, that many times,' she said in a matter-of-fact tone. 'But I was still distraught when he left. I'd never had to look after myself before and I was terrified. I wanted him back even though I hated him.' I listened, stunned. I'd never imagined my mother felt this way about dad.

'Then you showed me kindness, David. You've always been kind. I only survived because you were kind to me. And then you wanted to kiss me and I knew it was very wrong but I needed affection. I needed physical contact, even if it was with my son, even if it was inappropriate, I wanted it more than I worried about the morality of it.' I listened amazed; I'd never heard my mother talk so fluently. 'And I loved the kissing. Really loved it! I'd never been kissed that way before, that intensely, as though the person kissing me really loved me, and it was glorious, it was so special. I melted inside when you kissed me, David.' I still said nothing and she reached out and took my hand in hers. 'Of course I knew you wanted more, and I knew that eventually I would have to give you what wanted or reject you, and I hated the thought of that.' She took a deep breath and I realised she was coming to the climax of the story. 'I've thought about it so much over the past few weeks, David. Weighed up the arguments and tried to come to terms with the situation. The fact is, David, that it's the same with the kissing. It's very wrong but I want it more than I want to be alone. Last night was a revelation. You probably don't realise but that was only the third or fourth time a man has ever given me an orgasm.' I blanched slightly at the incongruity of that word coming from my mother's mouth. I was also shocked by what she was saying and I began to speak but she shushed me. 'I'm coming to the point. What we did last night was incest, and it was very wrong and I should know better as your mother and part of me is deeply ashamed of what I did. What we did. But part of me says why shouldn't we do it if it's what we both want? It's our lives and I'm not going to get pregnant or anything like that. So why not? Why the hell not?' Her voice was rising and she took a deep breath. 'What I'm saying, David, is that you can have me if you want me. I know it probably won't be for long, you'll want to get married and start a family. And I don't pretend to understand why you find me desirable, I'm middle-aged and flabby and not very pretty and I'm worried that when the novelty wears off you won't want me.' She wiped a hand across her eyes. 'But I'm prepared to risk that, if you'll have me,' she ended plaintively.

At first I couldn't speak; I was just too choked up with emotion. My mother had bared her sole to me and what I had seen was strong and good. And she had offered herself to me without reservation and I felt humbled and deeply privileged to have this lady as my mother and my lover.

'Mum,' I said and reached for her and we hugged and kissed and I think we both cried.

The rest of the evening was a bit surreal. Mum made dinner and we ate it and I washed the dishes and then we watched television, sitting side by side on the settee, holding hands. About ten o'clock mum said she was going for a bath and I watched the ten o'clock news and after a while she came downstairs and asked me if I wanted the bathwater.

'I'm going to bed now,' she said, quietly. 'If you'd like to join me that would be lovely.'

I washed in the lukewarm water and dried myself. In the bedroom the curtains were drawn but there was a bedside lamp on mum's side which cast a soft yellow glow over the bed where her mop of hair rested on the pillow. She watched me as I came in, naked, self-conscious, my penis semi-erect. I slipped under the duvet beside her and looked down on her face. She looked calm, serene. I stroked the hair from her face and kissed her gently on her lips. The kiss extended and I felt her mouth open and accept my tongue and we kissed sensuously, erotically, as lovers should. I slipped a hand under the duvet and discovered, thrillingly, that my mother was naked, her big breasts falling either side of her chest. I massaged the fleshy globes while I kissed her and she moaned into my mouth as my fingers found a big, rubbery nipple and I stroked it and squeezed it between finger and thumb.

We stayed like that for long moments, tasting each other's saliva, exploring teeth and gums with our tongues, my hand on her breasts, her arms around me, stroking the muscles in my upper back. It was intensely personal, loving kissing and I was loath to stop but I needed to move on.

Pulling back the duvet I exposed her breasts then, moving down the bed, I took one of her nipples in my mouth. It was raspberry-red and firm, erect and big and I sucked it in and licked the top and mum's breathing got faster and she twined her fingers in my hair and gave a little gasp as I gently bit down. 'Harder David. Bite harder.'

I bit down harder and she gave a little squeal and then started writhing her body as my hand traced her fleshy stomach and slid slowly, tantalizingly slowly, taking the duvet down with me, exposing her dense, dark-brown pubic bush. As I slobbered and sucked at her nipple my fingers traced her labia and she shuddered and whimpered when I slid my middle finger into her sopping depths. God she was wet. I'd heard that ladies could have a problem lubricating after the menopause, but not mum. I added another finger, then a third, feeling her vagina stretch to accommodate me. I could smell her juices in the warm bedroom air, a salty, briny smell, reminding me of the sea. I finger-fucked her gently, revelling in the feel of her cunt around my fingers, the liquid velvet feel of that intensely personal place. Kneeling up, and withdrawing my fingers, I brought my hand up to my face and, as my mother watched me, I smelled her scent and licked the clear juices from my fingers. Mum was breathing rapidly, as excited as I was. My cock was rigid, seeping a ribbon of fluid that attached itself to her thigh as I spread her legs and knelt between them, lowering my head to her bush.

'Oh, David,' mum moaned as she felt my tongue penetrate her and start to explore inside, lapping her secretions up, my nose wedged between her labia, her feminine scent overwhelming me. I was in heaven. No girl had ever tasted as good as this; no vagina had ever felt as good under my tongue and fingers. And the shuddering intimacy of the act, the fact that it was my middle-aged mother on the bed with her legs spread wide while her only son licked her pussy, parting her labia with my thumbs, getting my tongue deep inside her. When I judged the time was right I flicked my tongue upwards and across her clitoris. Mum bucked her hips and I rode with her, licking the little bud and sucking it into my mouth. I could have made it last longer for mum but I was impatient to penetrate her, so I sucked and licked and she trembled under my tongue and I heard her breathing turn to ragged gasps and her hips flex up against my mouth as her climax approached.

Mum came with a long moan, her hands above her head, gripping the headboard, her knuckles white. I licked her until she flinched away as her bud became super-sensitive. Then I straightened up and knelt over her and kissed her and she tasted her juices on my lips.

I entered her slowly and gently, knowing she was tender, and she locked her calves over the back of my legs and I started fucking her with long, slow strokes, my elbows either side of her head, her face turned up to me to be kissed. So as I fucked my mother I kissed her and she put her tongue in my mouth and sucked mine into hers and it felt so intimate, so erotic, that I couldn't hold my orgasm back.

We kissed as I came, our lips squirming against each other as the almost intolerable waves of pleasure washed through me and my cock pumped jets of white-hot semen into her. As the sensations subsided I collapsed messily over my mother and she held me and stroked my neck and kissed my cheeks and told me that she loved me and I said I loved her and I rolled off her and she got up suddenly saying, 'I'm leaking,' and scurried to the bathroom as my spunk dribbled out of her and down her thighs.