I woke up and opened my eyes, yawning. I'd come home to spend a long weekend with my parents, and I was in the bedroom I'd always had as a boy. I stretched and swung my legs out of bed, looking around at the familiar surroundings - nothing had changed.
I went to the bathroom and showered and shaved, then I made my way downstairs, hearing my mother in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Everything was just the same - my mother always got up first, then me, and finally my father.
Mum and I said good morning, and I gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. As usual, she was in her old cotton dressing gown, and as I glanced down at her I glimpsed her bare breasts, and I knew that she had nothing on under it. That was something else that hadn't changed either - if my parents had had sex the night before, she was always naked under her dressing gown first thing in the morning, as she was now. She followed the direction of my eyes, and, as always, she looked at me almost sullenly, and I knew that, as always, I was staring at her resentfully. She had a wide, full-lipped, almost permanently pouting mouth and heavy eyes that gave her a brooding expression at the best of times – it was a look that I, and most men, found incredibly tempting.
When I'd arrived last night, Mum had been wearing skin-tight jeans that showed her bottom off to perfection, and a thin black sweater. The sweater was as loose as her jeans were tight, plunging in a vee so deep that not only were the inner sides of her breasts visible, but also their perfectly sculpted undersides – no bra, of course. I'd felt a spurt of arousal then, and I felt it again now.
I went to the refrigerator to get some orange juice, just as my mother turned back to the stove, and we collided – her dressing gown parted slightly, and the backs of my fingers touched her bare thigh.
It was almost like an electric shock. My mother froze – it obviously affected her, too, and it was as if she was carved out of stone, staring straight ahead, her hand still reaching for the frying pan, while my hand rested against her warm thigh.
I had a sudden vision of her lying naked on the bed last night while my father fucked her – without thinking, and almost as if I didn't know what I was doing, I pulled her to me and kissed her on the lips. I expected her to push me away, but for a moment she stood motionless while I worked my mouth on hers, and then, at first almost imperceptibly, she started to respond. Her lips parted, and she raised one arm, her sleeve sliding up, and then she slipped her bare arm round my neck as she crushed her soft breasts against my chest, returning my kiss with a passion I would never have imagined.
Just then I heard my father coming downstairs – we both knew that he would first collect the newspaper from the front door, so that we could prolong the kiss for a few more stolen seconds, and then I reluctantly released her, still feeling the softness and warmth of her body through her thin dressing gown. Dad came in and said good morning, and I said the usual things, and he and I sat down at the kitchen table while my mother put plates in front of us and poured the coffee.
As she leaned towards me, her dressing gown gaped open, and I stared at her full, naked breasts, capped with stiff brown nipples. I raised my eyes, and saw that she watching me look at her – her expression was unreadable, and I briefly looked down at her exposed breasts again before she straightened and got her own plate.
We talked about the usual things, how we'd slept, the weather, things like that, and I mentioned that I'd arranged to visit some friends who lived nearby – did a look of sudden disappointment cross my mother's face? Then my father lost himself in the paper, and Mum and I fell silent. We were sitting side by side, opposite my father – if I glanced sideways as she leaned forward I could glimpse one bare breast, and she seemed to lean forward frequently. She crossed her legs under the table, and her dressing gown parted and fell away from her thighs – my father was still concentrating on the paper, and I surreptitiously put my hand on her bare leg, marveling at its smooth softness. She caught her breath, but she didn't push my hand away ...
I wanted to help her with the dishes after breakfast, but she insisted on doing them herself – did she guess what would happen if we were alone together again in the kitchen, with her naked beneath her dressing gown?
It was well into the evening when I got home, almost time for dinner. My mother was wearing a simple blue dress, quite short and fairly low-cut, enough to reveal the tops of her swelling breasts. Her arms and legs were bare, and she wore a simple necklace and high-heeled sandals that showed o her painted toenails.
My father remarked on how glamorous she looked, and she said that she'd wanted to dress up to celebrate my being at home. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and she knew it.
She'd laid the table in the dining room, and I helped her carry the food through from the kitchen. As soon as we were alone, I took her in my arms and kissed her – her dress was cut very low at the back, and I ran my hand over her bare shoulders, feeling her body mould itself to mine, while I made no effort to prevent her from feeling my erection pressed against her soft belly.
During dinner, our eyes met constantly, and I gazed at her bare arms and shoulders, and the shadowy valley between her breasts. Then she asked me to refill her wine glass. I got the bottle and stood beside her, enjoying an even better view of her cleavage, but then I saw that she'd pushed her chair back slightly from the table, and hoisted her dress up over her thighs. Incredibly, she wasn't wearing panties, and I glimpsed the thick bush covering the base of her belly.
Equally incredibly, she chatted casually throughout the meal, while all I could think of was her nakedness under her dress. Our eyes met from time to time, and I saw her put her hand down under the table – was she fingering herself while she looked at me?
After dinner, we all cleared up together. I managed to touch her a few times, and when she crouched down to put things away in a cupboard I got a glimpse of her naked thighs, but not what was above them ...
Then we settled down to watch TV – there was an old film on that we'd all seen before, but nobody seemed to mind, and anyway all I could think of was my mother. My father sat in his usual chair to one side, and my mother and I sat on the sofa, close together. It seemed natural to put my arm round her, and she snuggled against me.
My father was only a couple of feet away, but he was staring intently at the television, and my mother turned her face towards me and I kissed her briefly. We stole a few more kisses from time to time, and I stroked her bare arm, letting my fingers graze the side of her breast.
Then my father dozed off, his head dropping to his chest. My mother turned towards me, and I kissed her properly, running my free hand up her bare thigh under her dress. She was dripping wet – she squirmed against me as our mouths opened and our tongues clashed.
We kissed wetly, while I fondled her under her dress, until my father grunted and sat up. I removed my hand from between my mother's legs without him noticing, but I stopped stroking my mother's arm and instead I kneaded her breast. I could hear her breathing faster than normal, and I tightened my fingers on her breast, and we stole another quick kiss.
Then she got up to get a tissue from the kitchen – once outside the door she turned back to face me – I could see her, but my father couldn't, and then, very slowly, she lifted her dress to her hips, baring herself for me. Again, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable.
When she returned, she snuggled up to me again, and her hand dropped to my groin. This time I draped my arm round her neck, making it easy to put my hand down the front of her dress and fondle her bare breast. I played with her rubbery nipple, rolling it between my finger and thumb, and then squeezing it. It was already engorged, and I felt my mother stiffen. Then she covered my hand with her own through her dress, forcing me to tighten my grip on her nipple. I pinched it harder and harder, until she bit her lip and shuddered. Had my father turned his head slightly, he would have seen his wife squeezing his son's penis through his jeans, while his hand was down her dress, feeling her breast, but he was still engrossed in the film.
After a while I transferred my attentions to Mum's other breast, but then I couldn't take any more, and said I was going up to my room. I half hoped that my mother would follow me, but she just said goodnight casually, and offered me her cheek to kiss.
Some time later I heard my parents come up to bed. After a while, I went to the bathroom, but just as I reached it the door opened, and my mother stood there, with just a towel wrapped round her naked body, knotted above her breasts. I took her in my arms and kissed her, feeling her body still damp from her bath. Once again our tongues entwined, and I squeezed her soft breast through the towel.
The kiss lasted several minutes, and then my father called out: 'Liz? Where are you?'
'Coming!' my mother called back, still in my arms and staring into my eyes. Then she took my hand and led me to the door of their bedroom. She squeezed my hand and put her finger to her lips, before releasing my hand and going into the room – but she left the door ajar.
'George,' she said softly to my father, 'I want it again tonight. Look at me – I want you to see me naked ...' I saw her drop the towel, and I knew that she was talking to me as she ran her hands over her body.
My father laughed. 'I'll give it to you all right, you bitch! After seeing you in that dress all night, and now seeing you without it!'
I could see the lower half of the bed, and I saw the bedclothes pushed back, and my father's pyjamas thrown to the floor. My mother crawled up the bed, and I could just see her kiss my father's penis and fondle his testicles. I heard him groan, and saw him reach down for her.
'Do me now, George – I can't wait!' She rolled onto her back and my father slid on top of her. I saw her guide his cock into her – I pushed the door open another couple of inches, and saw my mother staring at me over my father's shoulder.
Still staring at me, she writhed beneath him. 'Oh, Christ, I want it so badly ...'
I watched as he fucked her, seeing his cock ramming into her repeatedly, his hand gripping her breast, hearing him grunting, while all the time she stared at me. Then she started to moan, her body bucking under my father, grinding her body against him, until her back arched and she cried out. I couldn't stand it any more, and crept silently to my room.
