My Mother My Wife

Thank you to my editor, Scorpius1945, for all your input.

*****

When I eventually got back to my room I collapsed onto the bed still clothed and fell immediately to sleep, dreamless and satisfied. For now.

I missed the first lectures in the morning. Rather, I showered, made a pot of coffee and sat at the table reliving the night before. I shook myself and came back to the present. I looked at the phone number Patsy had written on the piece of paper, suddenly feeling nervous, would she want to hear from a student? Someone younger than herself? If all I wanted was to get laid I could visit Patsy. But there was more to it than that, the tantalizing whiff of perfume, the perfect exterior. The light touch of her hand on my cock certainly had something to do with it. Only one way to find out.

She answered on the third ring. "Hello, Clarissa speaking."

"Hi Clarissa, John Mitchell."

"Ah, I thought you would never call."

"You are quite a difficult lady to find." I was encouraged by her response.

"Now that you've found me, what do you want to say?"

"Well, do you think we could meet for a drink later?"

"I'm busy tonight. What about Friday?" That was two days away.

I concealed my disappointment. "That would be great. What about the place we met last time?"

"It's a bit common, but okay. Sevenish?"

"Great," I said again, "See you Friday at seven. 'Bye now." I sat wondering about the pub being a bit common. I later regretted not taking more notice of things like this.

The next two days dragged past. I had so much work to complete, my thesis was running behind schedule and my tutor was giving me the gears about not concentrating. But my mind was on Clarissa. I pictured her as I had seen her, tall, slender with wide feminine hips. Wide but flat like you see with some of the top models, narrow waisted and then flared, small to medium breasts, somewhere between a B and C cup from what I could see. Medium length blond hair secured in a French plait. Simple but elegant jewellery. A delicate perfume that made my head spin.

Friday at seven I was seated at a table slightly secluded from the main room, my eyes glued to the door. The minutes felt like hours as I waited. Quarter past, twenty past...

At half past seven I saw her enter the pub, chin forward, nose up in the air. She was dressed in a white dress with a simple red chequered pattern, low strappy red sandals and a small handbag of the same color. Her hair was again in a French plait, very elegant and feminine.

When I stood up she saw me and came over, air kissed my right cheek, and allowed me to seat her. I never understood this air-kissing business, kiss on the lips or not at all!

Time passed quickly, she drank chilled white wine while I drank a pleasant red. Later we ate dinner where she ordered the most expensive item on the menu, which she sent back once as, 'not being quite right!' I was a little embarrassed by the episode. I was also a little concerned at the bill as I was a student with very little cash to spare.

My father was a successful and wealthy businessman, but he kept me on An extremely tight budget and any luxuries had to be paid for from money I earned doing part time work. Anyway, I thought it was worth it at the time.

During our conversations I learned that Clara, as her good friends called her, had once been told she looked like Lady Di of British royalty fame, and she now tried to live up to that in every way. This was the second warning that I took no heed of.

Again, she was intimately touchy while we talked, my leg, my arm, my cheek. The conversations were always steered to talking about my father and his architectural practice, and about how common in general the world was and that she was a royalist, following everything that the British royal family did. I learned nothing more about her background other than her immediate working and living environment. She evaded questions about her parents and schooling.

When eventually the bill arrived and I had paid, Clara ran her delicate hand over my cock under the table, giving it a small squeeze as she had done at our previous meeting. I was instantly hard, if that were possible. "Thank you for a lovely evening, I enjoyed it so much."

"Can I walk you home?"

"Why, thank you kind sir. You can walk me to my car if you like."

"I like," I said, standing up. When we were out on the street I tried to take her hand but she gave my hand a squeeze then let go. When we reached her car, a small white Toyota, I tried to take her in my arms and kiss her but she put her hands on my shoulders preventing me from pulling her against me, and kissed me chastely on the lips, mouth closed, lips pursed. It was more than a peck, less than a smooch.

When I tried to kiss her again she turned her face away saying, "You boys are so eager!" She reached down between us and cupped my erection. "So eager," she said again, squeezing slightly. "But a lady never kisses on a first date."

"But this is our second date." My entire brain was centered on the warm pressure on my cock.

"Our last meeting was not really a date. Good night and thank you again. Phone me." With that she climbed into her car and drove away, leaving me with a swirl of her perfume and a raging erection.

On our next date I spent the last of my allowance and was allowed to kiss Clarissa. Our kiss was soft, the tip of her tongue touching my lips, her hand holding my cock again lightly. When it got too passionate she pushed me away. "Not here, not in the street. And besides, I hardly know you!" Her hand still held my cock, a frustrated rod of iron.

After our first date I had gone home and masturbated myself into a coma, tonight would be no different! I even considered going and knocking on Patsy's door.

Over the next seven months I learned the real meaning of a cock tease. I was so infatuated with her I could think of nothing else. Always in a safe environment she would lightly touch my cock, holding it momentarily, calling me big boy, so eager, impatient.

Impatient! I was climbing the walls! I got to kiss her only when she saw my interest was flagging. When she saw I was going to walk away from our non-relationship she let me slip a hand into her bra and feel her luscious breast. That is when I discovered she wore padded bras, no less exciting, though! A month later she guided my hand up her dress to feel her crotch over her panties. When I tried to explore further she turned away, dislodging my hand.

I graduated through the mists of yearning and we married a month later. It was a small intimate affair with only my parents, her parents and a few very close friends. This was the first time I met her parents and was not impressed, her father had the red porous nose of a drinker and her mother was a real snob, but as common as muck under a thin veneer. I saw my father looking at her through half closed eyes on more than one occasion.

My mother was the vision of beauty and elegance.

A little about my mother. As a young woman of nineteen she had started working for my father's architectural practice as a draughtswoman. Within a few months, maybe it was weeks, she and my father started having an affair. As I understood the matter, this was not the first affair he had had with pretty members of his staff and he did not seem to care who knew about it.

The difference here, though, was that he fell in love with her and when she fell pregnant he divorced his wife and, at the age of thirty five, married my mother. I was born a few months later.

I was an only child, and growing up she had been my best friend, my confidant, my guide. When I reached puberty I had eyes only for her, lusting for her, yearning for her. She seemed to take this in her stride, never exploiting the situation, always attentive and fun. Oh, how I yearned for her, her image sharp in my mind as I masturbated, sometimes two or three times a day. She must have known how I felt, must have seen the signs of the bed stains, the sticky underwear, but she never said anything, never once embarrassing me, always loving and always fun.

After the evening's festivities Clara and I were alone at last in our hotel room. She was mine to have and to hold, till death us do part. I did not care about the rest of it but I was determined to have her! I used the bathroom first, showering, shaving, scrubbing my teeth. When I returned to the bedroom there were only two candles burning on the dressing table, the room in semi darkness.

As Clara walked past me on her way to the bathroom I caught her hand and pulled her to me. Almost reluctantly she returned the embrace, molding her body against mine. My lips sought hers and we kissed. Kissed properly for the first time.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but in the seven months of our courtship I had not kissed her properly. I mean my tongue exploring her lips, her mouth, her tongue, our lips soft and sensuous, moving against each other.

She was the first to break the kiss. "So eager, so impatient..." I had heard those words a thousand times.

Clara slipped out of my arms and disappeared into the bathroom closing the door behind her. I climbed into bed and waited expectantly. Now was the time, surely? After what seemed an eternity Clara emerged in a cloud of steam, perfume and wearing the briefest night dress I had ever seen.

My cock, having been erect, then flaccid, jumped to attention again. As she climbed into the bed I took her in my arms, insane with desire. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

I let her go. "I'm sorry," I said contritely, "it's just that..."

"Well, just be more considerate. I'll end up with bruises all over my body." With that she pulled the sheet up to her chin. I was outside the sheet and a bit nonplussed by her move. I leaned across and kissed her gently on the lips and, after a bit, she parted her lips and I explored her mouth with my tongue. It was heavenly!

Her subtle perfume made my head spin. As I kissed her I explored her body through the sheet. I ran my hand gently over the mounds of her breasts feeling the nipples clearly through the thin material. I heard her breath quicken. I slid my hand over the sheet down to the junction of her thighs. Clara's thighs were together so I just rubbed over her prominent pubic mound, over and over again. Backwards and forwards between her breasts and her sex, all the time gently kissing her.

After about ten minutes I pulled the sheet down, her body concealed only by the flimsy negligee. I returned to alternately rubbing her breasts and pubic mound. Clara's breath was coming in short pants, her eyes closed.

I broke the kiss and raised myself onto my knees allowing me to use my left hand to rub her breasts and my right hand on her mound. Then I moved my right hand to the hem of her nightie and started rubbing her thighs, tickling the satin smooth skin with just my fingertips. I felt her shudder and heard her sigh. Her thighs spread slightly, almost involuntarily. Emboldened, I slid my hand higher up her thigh almost immediately touching her nether lips, warm, smooth and hairless. No panties!

I felt Clara tense a moment, then she relaxed and spread her legs a bit more, giving me access to her sex. I explored the place where her thigh met her outer lips, this side then that side. I reached all the way down to where her buttocks started then back, up and over her pubic mound. Then back between her legs, all the time avoiding the slick opening or the erect clitoris peeping from under its hood at the top of the slit, teasing her.

In the faint candle light I could just see her outer lips were engorged and spread open revealing delicate inner lips. Clara started moving her hips in an effort to force contact between my hand and her sex. I moved my hand away, massaging her mound and sliding my fingers on either side of her outer lips.

Using my left hand I pulled the thin straps of the negligee off her shoulders, pulling the cups down at the same time exposing her breasts to my hungry eyes. They with perfect! Fuller than I imagined, slightly flattened and pointing outwards because Clara was lying down. The areolae were contracted into distinct ovals, the shade and texture contrasting sharply against her snow white skin. Her nipples, as hard as pebbles, standing proud of the areolae, the size of a pea. I could not tell their color by candle light but they were distinctly dark against her fair skin.

I leaned forward and captured her right nipple in my lips, sucking softly, then running the tip of my tongue over the hard nub. After a while I transferred my attention to her left breast, doing the same. I felt Clara's hands grasp the hair on either side of my head and pull me against her breast, directing my mouth and tongue. The harder she pulled me against her, the harder I licked and sucked, sometimes squeezing her nipple between the inside of my top teeth and my tongue, rolling it from side to side.

Clara would hold me hard for a moment, then pull my head to her other nipple asking for the same there. She pulled so hard it hurt, her nails digging into my scalp.

After a while I slid the fingers of my right hand down between her distended nether lips and pushed first one finger, then two, deep into her slick vagina. Clara's body went rigid, her hips lifting off the bed as she thrust her pelvis against my hand.

"Aaahh! Ahh!" I heard burst from her lips and I felt her vagina spasm sharply around my embedded fingers. Her body was shaking as she squashed my head against her right breast, encouraging me to suck as hard as I could. If I knew then what I knew later I would have bitten till I drew blood! After what seemed a long time her body suddenly went slack and Clara collapsed back onto the bed, her breath coming in short gasps.

My fingers were still deeply embedded in her pussy, not moving, her thighs slack, her legs spread wide. My head lay on her chest and I heard the jack hammer in her chest slow down. After a while she stirred, her hands reaching to pull my fingers out of her.

I moved between her thighs, trailing a long trail of precum from my rigid cock. I was so sexually charged by this time I doubt whether I would have listened to protests from her. But she lay still, open for me to fuck her, to ravage her. She lay there without moving, eyes closed, legs spread wide.

I took my cock in my hand and guided the turgid head to the junction of her thighs, to her warm cunt, and positioned the head between the slick lips. I stayed there a moment savoring the warmth before thrusting, sinking my full length in one thrust.

Clara just lay there, her limbs slack, her eyes closed, her arms and legs spread-eagled. I had been without sex for so long that I lost myself in the thrusting, the animal urge to fuck, to dominate, to impregnate. In a very short time I could feel my orgasm build, then break! Bolts of electricity exploded in my head and I squirted rope after rope of thick sperm deep in her cunt. Seven months of pent up frustration. I was thrusting so hard Clara's body was bouncing on the bed, the bed hammering against the wall.

After a time the fugue passed and I collapsed on top of her, completely spent. When my breathing returned to normal I tried kissing her but she turned her head away avoiding my lips. I raised myself onto my elbows and looked at her. She was lying with her eyes closed, completely passive under me.

In the candlelight I could see how beautiful she was. I was still fully sheathed in her, my cock still semi-erect. I looked down at her perfect breasts, her alabaster skin, her intense woman-shape, and started to get hard again.

When I started to move again inside her, my movements gliding in the combined juices of our orgasms, her eyes opened and she looked at me. "No..."

I continued thrusting gently trying to get Clara to hold me, to react, to rise to sexual heights with me, to celebrate our marriage. She put her hands on my chest and pushed. "Please..."

But I was too far gone, too caught up in the moment, the desert of seven months, the hundreds of refusals, the thousands of teasing unfulfilled come-ons. I thrust harder, ignoring her protests. Eventually I was pounding into her, long deep ruthless strokes, our pubic bones smashing into each other, the smack loud in my ears. I roared as my second climax overtook me, pumping more cum deep inside her.

Clara was lying completely slack under me by this time, her eyes again closed, her face turned away. As I collapsed for a second time she rolled out from under me and, holding her negligee to her body, went into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the key turn in the lock. Now what?