Mother turned my head towards her face and kissed me firmly on the lips, but there was nothing sensual about it. Her eyes were shining delightedly and I had never seen her look so pretty. She said with a giggle, "I'm getting really naughty aren't I."
I wondered how naughty she intended to get.
She clambered from my lap and took a couple of paces before spinning around. "This has been the best Mother's Day ever." Then she put her hand to her mouth in horror, "Oh Anthony; your trousers."
I looked down and groaned in despair, "For God's sake Mother, this is the second pair you've ruined."
She reached forward and squeezed my face, "Never mind, Mummy will clean them for you." She stretched luxuriously. "I'm going for a shower. Put my panties in the basket when you've finished playing with them." She caught them deftly when I threw them at her.
As I heard her footsteps on the stairs, I mulled over the events of the past four weeks. What an extraordinary change there had been in her personality since I had accidentally seen her masturbating. From a quiet and respectable forty-two year old widow looking after her only son, she had become a vivacious sexual dynamo with a keen interest in pornography. What was most important was that she looked happy and seemed to be enjoying life.
I had given her access to my porn and she now discussed the most intimate sexual practices without embarrassment. From protesting violently when I tied her to a chair and forced her to watch a bondage video, she had progressed to shamelessly masturbating on my lap while I excited her imagination with an erotic story. I just hoped that the direction in which I was taking her was the correct one.
However she had to get out more and find herself a suitable partner, permanent or otherwise. She had already been two years without proper sex, although my dear late father had not performed well enough for her to miss his efforts.
One evening I was upstairs when she came out of the bathroom wearing just a bathrobe. She opened the robe and said, "Look at this." She was drawing my attention to a barely noticeable roll of flesh around her waist that she was squeezing with her fingers. "If I'm going to be a porn star, this has got to go."
The fact that she was exposing the lower half of her naked body was of no concern to her and I reflected again on the remarkable transformation that she had undergone.
She was quite small, about five feet four, with short dark hair and average breasts but she had really nice legs. She had recently joined the health club where Sue and I were members and had certainly lost some weight. I had always considered her to be attractive in a pretty way."
"Looks okay to me," I said, "what's your problem?"
"What's my problem?" she echoed. "I'm fat, that's what the problem is. I must start going to the gym every day."
I had three spare evenings each week when I either went pubbing with my pals or stayed home with Mother. She would read while I surfed the internet.
I was getting used to her suddenly asking a question, often completely out of context, so it was no surprise when she suddenly looked up and said, "How often do you think it is acceptable for me to masturbate?"
I replied calmly, "I don't think there are any official guidelines. As often as you want to, or until your pussy gets too tender."
Then she asked, "How often do you do it?"
I thought for a moment as if calculating. "I don't keep official records but on average, three hundred and sixty-five times a year."
"Do you have an extra one during leap years?"
I answered in a hurt tone, "I'm not a sex maniac Mother."
Then she said quietly, "What I need is proper sex and you won't oblige because of your silly rules."
I looked at her reproachfully, "You wouldn't really want me to would you?"
She replied quietly, "No I suppose it wouldn't be right but I can't say I haven't thought about it when I've been feeling really horny."
That sounded ominous and I had to find some real sex for her if only to prevent the possibility of our relationship becoming incestuous.
A couple of nights later there was another happening with implications that concerned me. I had just changed into my tracksuit ready for soccer practice and was about to descend the stairs when Mother came out of the bathroom in her robe. She looked at me with a serious expression and said, "I think I'm becoming an exhibitionist."
"What's brought this on Mother?"
"Well," she replied, "I had just got out of the bath when I had an impulse to throw the window open and stand there naked. I wanted to masturbate while being watched. I thought it would be exciting to get someone sexually aroused in a voyeuristic way."
I said, "I've watched you masturbate."
She dismissed that with, "Oh you don't count. I want a man to hide somewhere outside and masturbate while he thinks that he is secretly watching me."
"Have you tried watching yourself?"
She looked puzzled. "How can I possibly do that?"
I took her hand and led her towards her bedroom. "Come with me and I'll show what to do but I'm really pushed for time. The coach has already warned me twice about being late for practice."
Facing the end of her bed was a wardrobe with mirrors on both doors but they were not full length. We sat on the bed together and I said, "Open your robe and your legs and put your hand on your pussy."
She craned her head upwards and complained, "I can't see my pussy." Before I could stop her she clambered astride my lap and faced the mirror. "That's better; now that I'm higher up I can see it."
I looked at my watch and said urgently, "Mother I'm really late. Can't you sit on pillows or get some cushions from downstairs or something?"
"Oh be quiet," she said irritably, "you're just the right height and nice and firm. Do I now just caress myself?"
I was getting impatient, "Yes and hurry up."