Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England. All email comments good or bad welcomed. I will try and reply to each and every one but please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am female and I write in British English.
My son Phillip is a bit hopeless at some things. He has a keen brain and is really quite intelligent, but he lacks the capacity to do things like keep his flat tidy. I despair at him, Keith, his Dad, thinks it is of little consequence.
"It's his life Mary, let him live it how he likes," Keith has said to me on many an occasion. Well, I just can't, sorry but there it is. I brought him up to be clean and tidy, and whilst he is clean, he is absolutely not tidy. Every few weeks I go across and do a deep clean. He just leaves stuff around. His clothes, once cleaned, just stay on the side, never in his drawers or wardrobe.
His kitchen is just piles of clean crockery, he washes it and just leaves it on the drainer, never stacked back in the cupboards as it should be. I had told Keith that I would be going to Phillip's the next day to do a tidy and did he want to come with?
"No Mary, I really don't want to do a tidy job," he said as he took me in his arms, cuddling and then kissing me. I could feel his dick press into my stomach as he pressed against me.
"Oh Keith, feeling fruity, are you?" I asked as I pressed back, enjoying the feel of his hardening dick.
"For you baby," he said between kisses, "always."
His hands worked around my waist and undid my skirt, letting it fall to the floor, his dick feeling more pronounced as the material fell away. His hand rubbed along my knickers, sliding the material into my valley and pressing at my entrance. My knees sagged a little as a wave of pleasure rushed through me and I gasped.
"Let's take this upstairs sweetheart," I said, "the kitchen is not the most comfortable place for romance."
"I will romance you anywhere and everywhere baby," Keith said as his fingers pressed deeper.
I stepped back his fingers leaving and no longer pressing my knickers inside me, and bent and picked up my skirt, "You can romance me wherever you like husband, but my preference is to choose somewhere comfortable, like our bedroom." I walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs. In the bedroom I put my skirt on my chair and as I turned Keith gathered me in his arms and crushed my lips with his, his dick pressing hard against my mons.
"Mm what's gotten into you?" I asked as he struggled to undo his belt and free his dick for a bout of morning loving. I stepped back and undid my blouse, pulling it off and then my bra was next to go. I was stood there in my knickers watching Keith dance as he tried to get his trousers off. His underpants were bulging almost obscenely as his dick strained to be released, and then he was free and he came to me as I lowered my knickers and we both fell onto the bed, his dick pressing at my crease but not lined up with my entrance.
I reached down and took his dick in my hand and lined him up with my entrance, he flexed his hips and I let out an 'oof' as he drove his dick into my fanny, his foreskin rolling back as he filled my fanny, my walls parting and then his glans bottomed out inside me. Oh what a wonderful feeling to be filled, to have another person inside you, I love it.
He started moving, his dick sliding within me, my fanny wet and ready for his shag. We don't shag as often as we should, and I had no idea what had bought on this morning's interaction, but I sure wasn't going to complain. I had my hands around him, my fingernails pressing into his shoulders, as his dick pressed into my fanny. Faster and faster he went, pressing in harder with each stroke, the slap of sex echoing around our room, the open bedroom window giving our neighbours a thrill if they were listening to my gasps and sighs as my husband shagged me on the Sabbath.
"Oh fuck, fuck," Keith gasped and thrust harder into me and held himself there, his ejaculations spurting inside, filling my fanny and flooding my womb after what seemed like just a few moments.
Not the most exciting but better than nothing and I lay there as Keith eased back and his softening dick fell out, the bed cover receiving a dollop or two of his spunk as it dribbled from me. I listened as he went into the ensuite and ran the shower. Time for my fingers to finish the job.
I moved my right hand down and slid it into my now very wet valley, dragging up his semen and rubbing it over my clitoris. My electrics started and my pressures grew. As I gently circled my clit with his semen my pleasures jumped, and I began gasping. Imagining it was his tongue I softly played with my clit, feeling his tongue lap at me and then my orgasm exploded, erupting through me, my body arching off the bed, my fanny spasming, ejecting Keith's semen as I lay back into the wet patch.
"I'll go in after you," I shouted.
The next morning a threw on a dress and headed over to Phillip's. It isn't a huge house, just a little two bed on the edge of town, in a small new estate of around a hundred houses. I knocked and opened the door walking into his living room.
"Only me," I called as I went through his front door. The house smelled clean and no lingering stale deodorant smells that I had read about in bachelor rooms. He is clean, he is just so untidy. Never the less I would vacuum and dust when I had tidied.
Phillip appeared coming down the stairs, he was wearing a polo top and shorts, to be honest they looked rather like undershorts rather than outer shorts, oh well, they covered what needed to be covered.
We embraced and kissed cheeks. "I'll start in the kitchen," I said as I stepped away, his half hard dick having pressed against me as we embraced, I did not need that situation to go further.
I started putting away his pans in the pan drawer, packets and boxes in the cupboards, plates and dishes in their rightful cupboard and then I could see the kitchen for what it was. I sprayed with a disinfectant and wiped every surface. It began to look good.
"I'll nip to the supermarket and get us some lunch, fancy anything?" Phillips said, he had put long trousers on whilst I was in the kitchen, perhaps they had been underwear after all.
"A soup perhaps, not out of a tin though, and a roll, something like that?"
"Okay Mum," and he was gone.
I decided to tackle his bedroom whilst he was out, I would be able to get a good start on it. I went up, and again his room did not smell, but still I opened his window to let some fresh air in the room. I rolled his quilt back and as I fluffed his pillows a magazine fell on the floor. I bent and picked it and looked at the front and laughed out loud. It was a porno mag.
To be honest I didn't think that they would be a thing anymore, what with all the porn available on the internet. Whatever. I looked at the title on the front cover 'Family Fun' it said. I flicked through a few pages, all the photographs were off older men and young girls, or mature women and young boys. Oh. The penny dropped. Family fun, incest they mean.
I sat on the bed and started to read a story. It was of an eighteen-year-old teen and how he wanted his Mum, how he found ways to see her naked, how he managed to be in his underwear when his Mum went to his room and so on. And then I thought, oh, Phillip was in his underwear when I arrived. Is this what he wants I wondered?
I read more, a boy accidentally walking in on his mum in the bathroom or her bedroom. Letting her see that he was aroused, his dick jutting his underpants. How it progressed to 'accidentally' touching, gasping or sighing sexually in her hearing if they touched. I flicked to another story, it was much the same, but this was the Mum wanting her son after accidentally seeing him naked in his bedroom when the door had been left open.
The sex when it happened was very much what Keith and I used to enjoy, much licking and sucking, penetration, not the quick shag's that I only seem to get these days. I read more stories and began to get a sense of their attraction, I was, inappropriately getting rather wet.
I shook my head and pulled myself together, placed his magazine under his pillow and started putting all his clothes away in the drawers and wardrobe where they belonged. I pulled the quilt back up and then went back downstairs. I filled the kettle and put it on, I fancied a coffee, I would see what Phillip wanted when he got back from the supermarket. Tesco, I assumed, it was the nearest.
Phillip arrived back just as I finished tidying his sitting room, coming through the door like bull in a china shop. Goodness he can be loud.
"Moroccan Chicken Mum, is that okay, it might be spicy."
"Ha ha, you know I like it spicy," and then I realised what that could have sounded like, in light of my discovery in his bedroom. I turned away and went and found some bowls, hiding my blushing face. Was I going to see innuendo everywhere from now on?
Phillip tipped the soup into a jug and put it into his microwave to heat. I took the baguette he had bought and cut it into three and then split each of the split pieces and buttered them, placing them on a plate in the middle of his kitchen table. Spoons out of the drawer and then it was just a case of waiting for the ping of the microwave.
Phillip shared the warmed soup between the two bowls and we sat. The soup was a little spicy, but nowhere near unpalatable, and the baguette went well with it. After I had finished I got up and re-boiled the kettle, "Tea or coffee?" I asked.
"Tea please," He answered.
I made two mugs of tea and then said, "let's sit in the lounge."
