Connecting With Mother

My work took me back to my childhood home in London that I had left years ago when going to college. Dad had died, prematurely, six months prior to my returning to the old place. My family had been up for the funeral and mum had borne her loss well after a period of natural grief. He had been a good husband and father to me as a single child. I had to leave my family home for a year because of work, going home most but not all weekends.

The return to the old flat (apartment) was loaded with memories of my teen years. I sensed a kind of reconnection with those years as soon as I walked in and particularly when I opened my old bedroom which was located on one side of the bathroom with my parent's bedroom on the other side. Part of me welcomed the notion of spending time away from home. Though I really missed my two boys, I did not mind being separate from my wife Gillian of 10 years. We were fine as a family but my head was elsewhere sexually. I already roamed in my family town, unbeknown to Gillian. I wasn't sure what she got up to.

Mum still worked in retail and I think she was glad she had kept up her work over the years. In her mid 50's I often wondered whether she would connect up with another man. None appeared to be around though she still had a small circle of friends mostly from when Dad had been around. She was still very presentable having kept fairly trim and still looked good and men, often younger, gave her the time of day when she went to the pub on her own. She looked after herself, usually wearing suits for work that emphasised her shape. Her breasts weren't large but that was probably in her favour, wearing a bra to give her a lift which men at the pub or in her work would privately admire. Her waist had the effect of highlighting her breasts and her hips. From the rear she displayed a full but well shaped arse.

She rarely wore trouser suits preferring skirts, stockings and shoes with a reasonable heel that made her legs still look good. Mum completely rejected tights, preferring suspenders that gave her 'room to breathe', her words.

The first time I went to the local pub with her, I noticed how she was acknowledged by the bar staff and the pub users, all respectful yet very warm towards her. I thought she is doing alright.

We sat on a sofa facing each other. I noticed how her skirt rose slightly when she crossed her legs. I felt I slight murmur down below. Just like old times in my teens when I would try to place myself opposite her at home to get a good view up her thighs. We chewed over recent events about our work, the family, holidays. She visibly relaxed, I think partly because she was accompanied by me and it was not obvious who I was. I said nothing to regulars and Mum offered nothing either. Glancing around I noted that one or two men were taking in the view on offer (I had a more limited view). I could only surmise that they had a sight of her pale thigh above her stocking line. I suggested some drinks to which she readily agreed.

Returning I asked Mum if there were any men in her life.

"If only Ian,"

"What does that mean?"

"I've not really got the opportunity"

"Here for example?"

"I wouldn't dream of it here – it would get too complicated if it didn't work out and anyway I like the pub too much!"

"Sounds like you're not that bothered Mum"

"No not really, not yet anyway – it's too close to your Father."

"What about just fun Mum?"

"You cheeky bugger. Not sure I should even reply to that." But she did.

"I certainly wouldn't even think about that here with anyone I vaguely knew."

"Well some of them are keen by what I can see." I thought I'd push the boat a bit.

"What the hell do you mean?" at the same time blushing ever so slightly and taking another gulp of wine.

"They like looking at your," hesitating and changing what I would say, I added, "up your skirt."

"You are a beasty Ian (reflecting her Glasgow background with a typical phrase not common in London). But it's good to know there's still a spark."

"In them or in you?"

"Both." Avoiding the specific.

"I'm glad to hear it because it's certainly apparent to me that you haven't lost your spark"

"I should really be flattered by that I suppose?"

Mum had finished her glass and said she wanted to get the next round. I had had two pints, yet the beer was great (much better than the piss from where I lived). So we both set ourselves up for another.

She went to the bar to order. I watched her warmth to the barman and a regular, chatting easily. Once they looked over at me. I avoided eye contact without appearing rude. Mum returned placed the drinks down and said she needed to pee. I wondered what she told them about me, a son, a friend, a boy friend (she did not look her age). On her return, she regaled me with their inquisitiveness about me.

"What did you tell them then"?

"I just said you were a friend." Blushing again just a little.

"Why?"

"You haven't changed have you Ian – still straight to the jugular."

"Don't get me wrong Mum, I don't mind at all – perhaps I should be flattered this time. Actually, I rather like the idea. It gives us more freedom here and it is your local, though they may get the wrong impression if they see me going into your home."

"Ian, they don't know where I live, it's not that near and we didn't come here when you lived here."

"Here's to our friendship." Mum just smiled. I respected her right to determine her life at the same time wondering what it might mean.

At home we watched TV for awhile and I got the benefit of thigh exposed. I didn't know if it was intentional. I decided to go to bed before exposing a growing hardon. After going to the bathroom for a welcome pee, I went into my bedroom. I recalled how we had all left our doors ajar in the past, so I adhered to that practice at least when I was going to sleep. So when working on my laptop I usually closed the door having brought all my necessary gear with me for seamless work and pleasure particularly early on when I was getting used again to being there.

If I left the door open, the screen was not visible from the door and so Mum could not view accidentally what I may have on the screen. I tended to use earphones when I might want to view something erotic with sound. The laptop was on a desk that could also not be viewed from the door.

Tonight I shut the door. I went to one of my favourite sites of mature women masturbating on their own. It usually had the effect of my reaching for my lubricant which made wanking so easy, smooth and quiet. I went to one of my video sites to watch the latest. I was not disappointed. A plump woman in her fifties in a black corset and stockings with heels is masturbating to camera.

A few nights later I had decided to run off some incest stories that really got me going and kept me horny for ages. I stapled each story, some with a profusion of chapters, went to the bathroom and then back to bed. I usually had a read after two to three hours sleep. On waking I put on the small light by my bed enabling me to read and wank at the same time. After about half and hour I heard a movement outside my bedroom, but did not say anything. I think Mum had intended going to the bathroom but my light had distracted her. She was very quiet and it could have been that I had not heard her in the deeply carpeted hallway.

I carried on reading and playing with myself. The bed sheet was just below my erection and my headboard was adjacent to the door. So I could be viewed from the crack between the door and its frame. I was sure she was just standing there totally silent. I carried on reading and wanking getting very excited knowing she was just outside. I decided to maintain the fiction that I was unaware of her presence. I put more lubricant on my cock and continued feeling extremely tense with the tension and my sheer excitement at the thought she was watching me.

I decided to let go and just come for her and myself. I let out a quiet groan of pleasure and release as I came over my stomach and chest and just wilted back into the pillows, but very conscious of Mum outside. I heard her deftly move back to her room.

Putting my light out I was aware that she had moved about in the dark of her room. The benefits of doors ajar were becoming deliciously apparent. I lay still listening intently. After about ten minutes I heard small moans emanating from her bedroom, as she began to play with herself. No I would not do as she did and try get up to peak. Listening from my own bed was very adequate and helped maintain the fiction. Soon a small heave in her voice, I realised she was really getting in to it and I imagined her wanking over what she had just seen. My cock began to stir again. Deep and heavy breathing and sudden ohs and ahs and I knew she had come too. Being in the old family home was having its distinct benefits. I was looking forward to how my renewed acquaintance would unfold.

Next morning I was up and away before Mum needed to rise. Probably a good thing as I was not sure how we would have handled it.

Mum arrived home before me in the evening and we fell into a routine that was cosy and comfortable. She had got dinner ready, but before we ate we usually chewed over our days with a bottle of red wine. Part of the routine was her being comfortable on the settee with her shoes off but raised legs at the knees giving me a sight of her flesh just above her stockings. I could not work out whether it was intentional or not, but it certainly got my cock stirring sufficient for me to cross my legs to disguise my emerging hardon. Sometimes her face was hidden by a newspaper giving me easy viewing. On such occasions she had more thigh exposed. I was beginning to realise it was intended for my benefit. She was feeling better in herself I was sure.

After supper I decided to get out on my own for awhile and went to one of my old haunts, a private porn cinema club. It had a large screen in two rooms with about 30 sets in five rows rising from the front to the back with aisles down both sides. Whilst the films were all het, there was a lively gay scene that tended to congregate at the back of each room. One of the rooms had a wide aisle at the back where it was possible to enjoy the gay scene standing up.

I recalled the old days when a woman would come in with a man, taking seats near the front. Usually the couple came for some fun either with each other whilst getting off on the films or letting guys play with the woman. The golden rule was that the couple would determine what happened. Any man who pushed it or overstepped the mark would be quietly told to back off –the concern being that it could ruin possibilities for all.

No women appeared that evening and I just got more and more randy watching the films wandering from one screen to the other in hope.

When I got home it was quiet and Mum had gone to bed already. I did too and fell into a deep sleep slightly tipsy as well. As usual I woke after about three hours feeling very horny from the evening's events and decided to read and wank. Sure enough after about twenty minutes I heard a silent shuffle as Mum took up her position in the hall outside my room. My cock was above the sheet, well lubricated and stroked by me. I decided to prolong the stroking before coming. After awhile I heard the softest sound from Mum as she seemed to be looking after herself. I was dying to take a look but bided my time. Suddenly I heard the merest whimper and breathing as I heard Mum coming. How she managed to control her come and breathing I could not imagine, but she went back to her bedroom immediately after.

I put out my light soon after and lay back luxuriating in the shared sex we had experienced without overt knowledge on either's part. When I let go and came I did not remain very silent and let the spunk spurt over my stomach and chest with a whoosh in my voice conveying to Mum that I was not unaware of what was going on. Something had to happen soon.

Shortly afterwards I had an afternoon free and decided to go back home to play online with Mum at work. On my way in to the flat I noticed that the curtains in Mum's bedroom were closed. That's odd she usually is meticulous about opening curtains before going to work. I let myself in very quietly and noticed that her coat was hanging up and her bedroom door was ajar with a bedside light on. I kept very quiet making no noise and went first to my bedroom. I noticed that my top draw was slightly open and went to look. I quickly realised that some of my stories were missing and the ones missing were the incest stories. Well, well well. Should I creep out of the flat or what?

I decided that I would try to look through the crack in the door. I could feel an erection coming on in anticipation.

Going silently to her bedroom door, I saw Mum lying in bed with a negligee lifted above her chest with one hand holding the story whilst her other hand was busily occupied in her cunt masturbating to my stories. She was totally preoccupied wanking to the stories unaware of my presence, moving her free hand deftly between her nipples and her clit. I had not seen her nipples ever before or indeed her breasts which had the effect of 50 plus years on her and were droopy but still full and made me harder just viewing them. Her nipples were surrounded by large areolas, but the startling thing were her nipples themselves stuck out about ¾ of an inch in sheer stiffness. They were obviously very sensitive as she was spending as much time on them as on her clit. Her nipples were shiny too from her wet cunt.

Pushing the sheet down more I felt my cock really harden as she revealed wearing her suspender belt and stockings showing off the delicious white of her upper thighs near her fast moving hand.

Getting out my cock I started to wank wishing I had my lubricant (I tended not to get much precum ever). Soon I was close. Suddenly Mum plunged her hand in her cunt deep to wet herself more and I could hear her murmuring.

"Yes, fuck its gorgeous, yes fuck him, oh god I wish I was fucking doing it. Yes, yes oh god I'm coming yes oh yes oh fuck yesssss."

Just as she came I shot my load down her bedroom door and on the hall carpet without making a noise. Zipping up I left the flat as quietly as I had arrived even though I wanted at that moment to confront her and fuck her. I decided not to wait to see what she might do after her lovely cum. I needed a drink to take in what had just happened retiring to the pub, recognising some of the regulars who would have no doubt been delighted to have been in my place to have watched her.

Will she have seen the evidence on the door of my presence? I did wonder but hell I would just play it by ear when I went home. I also knew that she had chosen the incest, mum/son stories, the only ones I had printed off recently. No doubt about it. Yes she was getting off on my favourite stories as I often thought of her when reading them myself. The dirty fucker, she's just like me and then I recalled her cum comment about wishing it was her. Then I knew it – she must be fantasying about me. I just wanted to believe it.

On my return home, I found her in the kitchen humming away happily with a glass of wine getting the supper ready. She cheerfully greeted me giving me a peck on the cheek. She was wearing a yellow blouse but I didn't see the pronounced effect of a bra. Her tits did droop somewhat, but it didn't prevent her nipples pressing against the blouse, though appearing not as stiff as this afternoon. Her skirt to just above her knees and stockings and low heels completed the picture.

"Good day son?"

"Yeh Mum, you too?"

"Fine thanks."

After supper I changed into some loose elasticated trousers with no fly, a tea shirt and we carried on drinking, watching TV on the settee near each other and in good moods no doubt from the day!

"Can I put my feet up Ian?"

Not quite sure how she meant to do it, I replied, "Sure Mum, go ahead."

To my surprise she kicked off her shoes and rested her stockinged feet on my lap.

"That's better, thanks – hope you don't mind."

"Not at all Mum." We both continued to consume the wine and it felt very relaxed together.

"Do us a favour Ian, my feet are really tired from standing all day. Would you like to rub them a little for me?"

I had done this many years before with Dad around when I was about ten.

As I began on her small toes, stroking softly between them Mum recalled:

"Do you remember the last time you did this for me Ian with Dad and you both got a bit carried away? You saw a small hole and ladder in the ankle of my stocking and you stuck your finger in it and made it worse. I was slightly irritated but Dad just laughed, so you carried on pulling on the ladder. Dad joined in and began to pull the stockings to pieces. I think Dad and I had been drinking and I lost my irritation and smiled too as you both went to work ripping them apart."

I did remember very clearly. I think it was one of those early experiences when I realised something was happening that was not just the surface but happily played along. I noticed mum giving Dad a look in the eye, which he picked up on.

"I remember well Mum, but also Dad saying, "its time for bed son" and you Mum agreeing whilst still laughing at the disarray of your stockings in pieces around your ankles."

"Well it was getting a bit naughty Ian and you were a bit young then. Did you realise what was happening Ian?"

"Not then Mum but later I did."

She smiled and then said, "I do like what you're doing now though." I had just almost completed stroking her other foot.

"Would you like to do my legs too Ian"

"My pleasure Mum." I continued stroking her toes and right ankle as she took another sip of wine. With my other hand I began to move up her right calf, getting off just having the feel of the dark brown nylon sliding under my hand. I sensed my cock hardening against my loose pants that I had changed into on returning from the pub. I had no underpants so there was little restraint on my slow erection. It was however, not yet noticeable.

Reaching her right knee I started on her other leg working up from the ankle. I now used both hands to surround her calf being very firm against her flesh covered in the delectable nylon. She had just closed her eyes whilst taking the remaining swig of the wine, placing the empty glass on the shelf nearby. Lifting her knee very slightly, I could see a glimpse of her thigh above the stocking line.

What should I do? I continued to stroke her just above her knee but below the stocking line adjoining her thigh without actually seeing what I was doing but knew I was risking rebuff. So I continued stroking with both hands now above her knee and on the edge of her stockings. It was electric.

With her eyes still closed she suddenly announced.

"I got my foot wet this afternoon in the hallway."

"Oh did you?" as I paused on her thighs.

"On my door too."

"What was it then?"

"Your sperm."

So this is how it was to go was it.

"That's right it was."

"Was what?"

"My sperm Mum." She opened her eyes. I was silent for a moment. That must be the all clear. I moved my hands onto clear luscious flesh up her legs toward her panties. Shock and delight as I detected no panties. Continuing to explore I found the edge of her cunt totally wet and slipped my finger in and explored.

"Yes that's what I want you you bastard teasing me all this time with your dirty nighttime wanking making me ache for your cock ever since you came back here. You bastard I am so angry with your teasing me these last three weeks. Now at last I've got you nearly where I want you. Oh good get your fingers up my cunt and onto my clit just like that, just like that, right there oh good, yes, don't stop you bastard, don't oh god yes that's it I'm coming yes harder, harder. Fuck you Ian that's right oh oh oh yes so good so good.