My Love Affair with My Mum

A few words from Jayne.

I thought that I would try something different. It may or may not work and I would like my readers to be the judge of that. Please bear with me as I explain.

I am going to take some of the stories that I wrote about my son and me and rewrite them as I imagine they would be from his point of view. So, effectively, what I am going to try to do is to write the love story between a mother and son from a twenty-year-old's guy's perspective. So, I am publishing the first two parts and would ask you to read them and let me know if the idea works and whether I should write more parts.

Thanks for reading this and let me know your thoughts

Part 1. The Early Signs of Our Love.

It was a fairly typical lads' Saturday night out. Meet in the pub around seven after watching football in the afternoon. A few pints then an Indian or Chines until ten or so when we'd argue about which club or late-night bar we'd go to. As it happens, we'd hit both mainly because we'd chatted to a group of girls in the bar who were going to a club a short cab ride away.

I had chatted one up at the bar. She was a bit dumpy and not an award winner looks-wise, but she had big tits that were almost hanging out of her dress and she had that glint of availability in her eyes. Nowhere near a prospect for a steady girlfriend but a bloody lively one for a quick fuck or two so I came on strongly to her at the club. We had a couple of drinks in the bar then danced normally for a while before doing a bit of dirty dancing before I coaxed her out to the car park. Ostensibly that was for a ciggy but in reality, as we both knew, it was for a grope or two. I quickly established that the tits were real and that she was wearing a thong and she agreed that I could take her home but said, "Actually Pete I still live with my parents." That didn't surprise me that much for most of my mates and I did as well; flats were so fucking expensive to rent or buy in and around London that I'd probably be with mine until I was in my 30s!

I kissed her again in the back of the cab and this time got a feel up the front of her dress as opposed to at the back where I had fondled and squeezed her bare bum both in the club and more so in the car park. Her thong was nicely wet.

Outside her house she said. "You can come in for a drink if you want."

Not really fancying doing much with her mum and dad upstairs and then having to call a cab at what would probably be after three I hesitated and said, "Maybe another time Julia, cabs are hard to get to come out here this late."

"Why get a cab?"

"Well you live with your parents don't you?"

"Yes but there are on holiday."

So I went in, had the offered drink, a glass of her dad's brandy and within half hour we were both naked walking up the stairs to her bedroom

Then, I could hardly fucking well believe it what happened. As I was getting near to shooting my cum into this bird after what had been a pretty good fuck, suddenly, my mum's face and body filled my mind. Just as I pumped away at the girl's very well lubricated cunt so, in my brain, it was my mum who I was shagging. It, literally, put me off my fucking stride for a few moments and I nearly stopped. But, I just about managed to carry on and finish the job at about the same time as she moaned her way through a long orgasm.

Lying beside her as we both recovered, I could hardly believe what had happened. Alright, over the last couple of years since my eighteenth birthday and as mum's and dad's marriage was going tits up, we'd got closer. And yes, I'd had thoughts about her, after all she's pretty tasty for a woman in her late forties and like many blokes my age I had a big thing for older women. Not that I'd had many but, the couple I'd had and the ones I saw on tele, particularly the newsreaders, and some of mum's friends really were big turn ons. But mum was better looking than all her friends. Although she has a great figure with full tits, a beautifully rounded arse and fabulous legs, I hadn't really thought of her as fair game or even a sex object like I did one or two of her friends. Obviously, I'd checked her out and, of course, now and then I'd wondered what her naked body was like but, until then, the idea of sex with her hadn't really entered my mind, and to think it was her that I imagined I was fucking sort of blew me away.

Mum's blonde and wears glasses has full boobs, a great bum and lovely legs. Whenever I was out with her, I'd see guys eyeing her up and down and often one would come onto her. At first that meant nothing to me but gradually I began to resent them and mentioned it to her a few times.

As things were getting quite bitter between her and dad before and during the divorce so, we'd got closer. I tried as best I could to help her cope with the disappointment of their relationship breaking down and that included our relationship changing. There were numerous little things that I hardly noticed at the time such as us being friendlier and talking a lot more and even discussing things and not just chatting. We had our own in jokes that others wouldn't understand, we held each other's gazes longer, stood closer to each other when chatting, we touched more frequently usually on the arms or backs but now and then with a playful smack on one or the other's bum and me, mainly, though she now and then joined in, making flirty, come on remarks or cracking double entendres. These events built up slowly, they didn't happen or develop overnight so, really, I was hardly aware of the cumulative effect of them. But as they became more frequent so, they began slowly to assume different meanings, although these were not overtly sexual, well not at first and I hadn't yet started jerking off with her in mind.

At first, they were just harmless and a bit of fun but, gradually they took on other meanings as they were our way of communicating without involving my dad. It was like going behind his back or, as if he wasn't there and we were talking a different language and had our own relationship that excluded him. In a way, I was taking on his role with her that he was relinquishing. And when they were going through bad patches, which were becoming more and more frequent, they acted as a sort of comfort blanket to her and, as she told me one afternoon, without them and me she would have walked out and left him long before the eventual split.

More frequently after dad left, there were other examples of our changing relationship that were more intense and, looking back I realised did have sexual undertones. A couple of times I saw her in just her underwear, a few times only wrapped in a towel and once in the garden I caught her sunbathing topless. On that occasion she was quite slow to react and seemed to take an overly long time putting her bra on, long enough, in fact, for me to get a mini hard-on that I was not at all sure she didn't see. Now and then she'd come into my room to say goodnight or to bring me a glass of water and it seemed to me that her nightdresses became flimsier and lower cut at the front which became more obvious when she leaned forward to give me a goodnight kiss. Of course, all that could have been my fervent imagination. But how the hell I stopped myself shoving my hand up or down her lacy nighties or groping her full tits I had no idea. But inevitably, after she'd left and the smell of her perfume was still wafting around my bed, I made up for it with some glorious wanks as in my mind I stripped her then fucked her. This was, of course, after that fuck with the girl when I imagined it was my mu who I was fucking.

I had no idea at the time whether any of the flashes were purposeful or not but, of course, I enjoyed them and looked forward to her visits which, unfortunately were not that regular. However, quite naturally, they provided more illustrative images for my masturbatory activity than the porn I looked at on the internet and after that first surprising image, she and I were now getting it on quite regularly, albeit only in my mind when I had my dick in my hand.

As mum's and my relationship was becoming closer, well at least I thought it was, so it seemed to me hers and his was worsening which quite pleased me, although when dad left, I felt rather abandoned and very much alone. At first, I saw him fairly regularly, but it didn't change the fact that he had left me and left us.

I had no one really, no one to turn to, no one to guide and teach and help me. No one that is other than my mother. But that was fine, I felt cool with that. She was always there for me, always willing to listen, always kind and loving, always helpful, caring and considerate. I loved her as a son should love his mother and we were happy. But age has a way of separating a boy from his dear old mum. And naturally, as I grew up, I started thinking about girls and sex, and should have forgotten about my mother.

But I didn't.

At first, it was a mild interest. Maybe, she'd bend over to pick something up and I'd check her out or she'd be getting out of the shower and I'd just happen to be around or we'd chat as she came out of the bathroom in her robe. Now and then, I'd bring her breakfast in bed so I could see her lying down in her nightclothes. I'd find excuses to be around her and as I smiled and we chatted I'd often imagine her taking off her clothes and kissing me.

Like all guys my age, I'd masturbate most days, often several times, and fantasise about beautiful celebrities, girls from school and the English teacher every guy in my year had a crush on, but somehow, I'd usually end up thinking about mum as I brought myself to eruption point. I'd imagine my lips on her breasts, my kisses on her neck, her soft naked flesh pressed up against me. And, inevitably having a full breasted mother, her boobs featured strongly in all of my masturbatory activities. And, like other guys, as I learned later, my fantasies became a reality by searching through her underwear drawers, fondling her bras and other lingerie and trying on her panties.

As I slid through my nineteenth year I was so often at nights thinking that the woman of my dreams was in the next room and I was too scared to do anything about it. But that woman was my mother. If I told her, she would think I was a freak and maybe I'd have to go and live with dad. Or maybe they'd lock me away. Perhaps I was sick?

Then, there was that night when I was in my room doing some homework. I heard her getting out of the shower and called her into my room for some trivial problem with schoolwork. She entered my room, wearing a silk bathrobe and rubbing a towel on her damp, blonde, near shoulder length hair without her glasses which was unusual. She walked in looking at me and smiled warmly, her boobs jiggling around inside the robe, reminding me that under it she was likely to be naked.

"What's up love?" she asked, and I very nearly told her, 'My cock mum, its sticking straight up my stomach.' But instead, I directed her to the PC and explained my problem. She sat next to me and putting her glasses on stared at the screen as I stared at her. She looked magnificent. As she sat down, her dressing gown had fallen open slightly, giving me a tantalising view of parts of her breasts, the soft, pink flesh right to the edge of her areolae. I fought the urge to reach out and touch her but, I had to do something. Quite consciously, under the desk, I let my bare knee touch hers. It sounds silly now, but it was all I could think of. I had to touch her, and I couldn't think of any other way. Magically, she didn't move away but left her bare knee and a little of her upper leg against mine as she got on trying to solve the problem. That must have taken no more than three- or four minutes but it seemed like an age as I 'made love' to her leg with mine. All too soon, though, she solved my problem, stood up and moved away and turned to face me and smiled. For a heartbeat we sat face to face with mere inches between our lips. All I had to do was lean forward. Even her lips were parted and I watched, amazingly, as she slowly ran her tongue along her upper lip. Was that something significant, was she was she up for it, ready for us to go further inviting me to do something, but what? Obviously, I'd not been in a position remotely like this even with the slags I managed to pull and have sex of one kind of another with. But, of course, I couldn't. Sons didn't do that and, more to the point, mums didn't either. But my mind was whirring as much as my erect cock and balls were tingling at the thoughts of what was, seemingly happening between us, that is if anything was happening?

"Well," she said softly and slowly, "I'm off to bed." She leaned towards me and placed a slow kiss on my cheek. Any slower and I might have 'accidentally' turned and let our lips collide. It didn't occur to me at the time that she might have known or guessed what I was feeling, and that she, incredibly, could be experiencing a similar temptation. That just wasn't possible, was it? She stood, and bade me goodnight. I smiled, and reciprocated, leaning forward casually and praying that the desk would hide my erection. As she left, the atmosphere, the tension, the lust and the heat, went with her. I turned my TV on to hide any noise and fell onto my bed. My hand went to my boxers as I recalled vividly the feeling of her knee against mine. It was a far more stirring feeling than I had got from the first time I'd cupped a girl's tits or fingered one.

After I came, I had a moment of clarity. Our knees had touched, she hadn't pulled away. I was tempted to kiss her, and she had awkwardly pecked my cheek. For the first time I began to consider the possibility that she felt for me the same way I felt for her. But really?

The thought alone was enough to make me rigid again.

*

I'm sat at the bed when she enters the room. She's wearing a wonderfully low cut, red, silky dress with a short, mid-calf length skirt with slits up either side of her bare legs almost to her hip bones. It has spaghetti straps which I subsequently learn the narrow slithers across her shoulders that keep the top up are called. With her shoulder-length hair loose and framing her face and the oodles of bare, slightly tanned flesh on show she's every man's vision of sex on legs as she walks towards me. Under the thin silk her body moves in the most sensual way that I have ever seen and my immediate thought, and hope, is that she's naked beneath it. Instinctively, somehow, I just knew that she is.

She doesn't say anything; she just walks towards me, places her hands on my face and smiles. I begin to speak, but she places one slender finger with a scarlet painted nail on my lips and gently shushes me. She leans in and places her lips on my cheek. They're soft, warm and moist.

She moves her finger and kisses me full on the lips. Breaking it, she smiles at me. I'm speechless. Again, she kisses me, and again I feel as if I'm in heaven. She breaks the kiss and moves back a little. Her eyes holding mine, she reaches up and slides firstly, the right shoulder strap and then the left down her arms. The neckline slides down her boobs a little way but I can see through the thin, lustrous material that it's caught on her nipples. God they must be huge and hard I think as she wiggles her boobs so that it slips off from her breasts. Then, with one fluid movement she slides the dress down across her waist, over her stomach and hips and lets it fall down her legs. It drops to the ground, she steps out of it and, naked, she puts her hands on either side of my face and slowly presses her big, bare tits against my face. Now I know that I am in heaven as the soft, smooth, warm flesh engulfs my face.

It lasts longer than the kiss had, and I boldly place a hand on her leg above her knee. Her skin is so smooth. As she kisses me, I move my hand higher. She eases her breasts away from me and for a brief moment I feel I've gone too far but she's smiling as she stands up straight and shows herself to me naked apart from her red, patent stiletto heels. She looks awesome

As she stands before me and a look of self-consciousness flashes across her eyes, I guess that she's concerned she's with someone so young, so I put an arm round her, pull her close and kiss her deeply, silently trying to let her know that she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Her mouth opens a little and for the first time our tongues meet. They playfully tease each other, gently probing and licking as we press our bodies together.

She lays on the bed, pulls me beside her and we kiss again. I kiss her neck, and slowly move down towards her breasts. I lick and kiss them, sucking on them and gently teasing them with my teeth. As I suck at her nipples, she cradles my head in her arms pulls my mouth more firmly onto her awesome breasts Then I lift my face and continue kissing my way down, as she's becoming my lover or, more realistically, I am becoming hers.

I kiss over her stomach, running my tongue over the soft skin and continue downward and all too soon I'm between her legs. My mouth has only been here on one female before and she was only eighteen and still a girl but, nevertheless shaved down there unlike where my mouth is now kissing. Moving from the thatch of hairs, I am now kissing the inside of an older woman's thigh, where her skin is softest and smoothest. As my tongue touches her most intimate place, she can't suppress a tiny wriggle as I lick her wetness. And then there's the moment where I can't tease her anymore and I have to do it and in one smooth, slow motion I run my tongue right over parted lips and the folds of sensitive flesh guarding her womanhood. She moans softly, arches her back and grunts deeply as I lick her for the second time. She's already so moist. She tastes like heaven.

I run my tongue over her lips again and again, getting faster and more confident as she moans in response and grips my head. My tongue feels her opening, begging for something inside, so I raise a finger and slide it in. She bucks slightly as I probe inside with my finger, while playing with the small pink button shrouded in her pink lips with the tip of my tongue. I slip a second finger inside her and then holding my little finger with my thumb, a third. She's moaning softly as I gently and slowly finger-fuck her and lift my head to look at her face. She catches my eye and beckons me with a finger.

I kiss my way back up to her face and she rests a hand on my shoulder easing me on top of her. Our stomachs and hips are against each other, both superheated by passion as she opens her legs and I slip between them. Reaching down my body with both hands I hardly realise that she slipped a condom onto me and then gazing into each other's eyes she nods gently. Instinctively, I know what she means and I move my hips and in one swift movement I'm inside her and all barriers are broken. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth a little as I slide all the way up her. As I reach the top she groans and grips my shoulders tightly. I hold still for a few seconds, then slide down and almost out, only to push straight back in. I slide in and out of her until she seems comfortable, then I slowly increase the pace. It's almost magical being in seeming control of her and the situation but, deep down I know I am not really and that it's her who's running the show, just as it should be.

I build the pace again and she grips my head. She draws me to her and I'm holding her body tight against mine and thrusting in and out of her and she's holding me and the only sounds are our breathing, our moans, our groans of pleasure and the squelchy, slurping sound of my cock surging through her feminine excretions.

Then those wondrous feelings of impending ejaculation start in my balls, they spread through my groins and stomach before consuming my mind and body. I'm ready to cum and immediately she knows that, she recognises the signs as she has experienced them so many times before with a variety of men inside her. I grip her tightly, she responds, one hand running up and down my back the nails on the other digging into the flesh of my arse. I push myself as far into her as I can go and then hold my cock rigid all the way up her cunt. She pushes back. Then, I explode inside her. All thoughts of this being wrong are totally thrust from my mind, so wonderful are the sensations and mental images I gain from fucking this high-class whore, my father has arranged for me so that I could lose my virginity in splendour rather than squalor. Little did he or she know I had already I lost it in squalor on the back seat of a Mini when I didn't imagine I was fucking my mother as I just had with the hooker.