At the age of 19 I was home for the summer after just completing my first year, studying Law, at university. My older sister was away, nursing, in London. So it was just my Mum, Dad and I.
We were a close family and I got on well with both parents. My Dad was a practical, physical, type, earning a good living on the oil rigs in the North Sea. So he was often away for a couple of weeks at a stretch, then home on "shore leave" for 7-10 days.
My Mother was much more cerebral. An English graduate, who taught the subject at a local school (thankfully not the one I'd attended). Cerebral as she was, she was also vivacious and a lot of fun. And was one of those warm, tactile, people that others almost immediately warmed to.
She was also very attractive, with immaculately coiffured brunette hair, piercing blue eyes and a curvy, womanly figure. She'd embraced the relatively new trend for aerobics. And regular classes were ensuring she remained in excellent shape. So, even in her mid to late 40s I noticed that she still turned heads, wherever we went. And I'm bound to say that, having been away from her for almost all of the last several months I found I was noticing, probably more than I should have, how attractive and desirable she was.
I'd really enjoyed my first year away. But it was good to be home and I was looking forward to a decent break from studying. But, before I could do that, I'd secured a month of work experience with a local firm of solicitors. So during the week I was off to my 9 to 5 job. And my Mother was still teaching, though the end of term (and with it a long break for her) approached.
Whilst away in Uni I'd found my first steady girlfriend. And had been having regular - and in my limited experience - passionate sex with her. In fact I'd been congratulating myself on my good fortune in finding such an enthusiastic lover. The downside of that was that I'd got used to this. And was finding it hard, now that I was home, to revert to porn mags and wanking.
Back in those days, certainly in our provincial town, casual hook-ups were very rare. And you could only persuade someone to sleep with you after several dates. Whilst I'd have been happy to have meaningless sex with a stranger, I felt that having lots of dates (potentially leading to more meaningful sex) would be cheating on my girlfriend. Twisted logic I know, but it's hard to make sense of a horny teenage mind. So I determined, in my own eccentric way, to maintain fidelity. And committed to not going out chasing young local girls over the summer.
But, that said, I'd found myself looking covetously at a number of the women in the law firm I worked at. Particularly the "milfy" office manager. As well as a few of our neighbours and some friends of my Mum. And, though I was ashamed to admit it, I was also (as I wrote above) increasingly noticing what a good looking (indeed sexy) woman my Mother was.
None of this was helped by the long, hot, summer we were enjoying. Everywhere I looked I was aware of attractive women, in the skimpiest of clothing. Not least at home where my Mother seemed to be spending an awful lot of time wearing very little indeed.
I'd often come home and find her sunbathing in a bikini in the back garden. And she was regularly parading around the house in knickers and a vest, often braless. With that bralessness making me aware that her nipples were large and prominent.
Finally, that tactility I mentioned earlier was especially apparent with me. We were always a loving family and, from an early age, I was showered in love and affection. Manifesting itself, to this day, in a lot of all embracing cuddles. Having been away for several months in college my Mother was particularly affectionate on my return, regularly grabbing me and pulling me to her chest.
"My little boy is all grown up and has left me," she'd say, "but I need to remind you that Mummy still loves you and needs lots of cuddles from my baby."
Said in jest of course, but the warm, tight, cuddles were very real. With my Mother unaware, seemingly, that when she did this she was almost invariably holding me tight to her (very impressive) chest, with our groins touching.
All of which meant that I was increasingly viewing my Mother as a sexual being. And this view - and my frustration - was exacerbated by the fact that, when my Dad was home it was apparent that they were enjoying quite a lot of very vigorous sex. Either I'd never noticed it before, or they were being less discreet than they used to be. I found I was regularly seeing my Dad fondling my Mother. Nothing too overt, but certainly loving and affectionate, for example, groping her arse. But the biggest indicator was the banging of the headboard and the gasps and groans from their bedroom late at night. Happy as I was that they still "carried a torch" for each other, it highlighted my own discomfort and frustrations.
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My Dad and I shared lots of sporting interests. But my Mother and I bonded over the written word. Regularly discussing literature and sharing new and classic authors with each other. As a spin off from this, over a number of years we'd developed a habit of doing the cryptic crossword together. And, now that I was home, with my Dad away, we'd often sit in bed at the weekend, drinking tea and pouring over the clues of the one of the broadsheet puzzles.
So, one Saturday morning we were doing just that. Sitting, side by side, propped up against some pillows with mugs of tea beside us on the bedside table.
On this occasion I was finding it almost impossible to concentrate and had contributed nothing to the crossword. My Mother was wearing what used to be (probably still is) described as a negligee. It was flimsy and satiny, short on the leg and cut loose and
very
low at the front. So much so that as I glanced across I could see her tits and nipples very clearly. I was ashamed to discover that this view, coupled with us sitting so closely (so that we could view the clues together) that our bare legs were touching, led to a spontaneous, very hard, erection.
"Come on Jack," my Mother chided, after some time, "I don't think you've got one clue yet. Look, go and make yourself useful and go and bring us fresh mugs of tea."
"Mmm, not just yet, I'll go in a few minutes," I demurred, hoping that would give time for my erection (which I could now feel was poking out of my shorts) to abate.
But my Mother was having none of this.
"Don't be so lazy," she directed, flinging the duvet back as she said this. Leaving my dick, at full mast, clearly on display. It was both cripplingly embarrassing and more than a little ludicrous.
My Mother seemingly, whilst surprised and shocked, was taking this in her stride. And did not appear to be suffering from the shock and shame that I was.
"Oh my goodness," she chuckled, "I can see now why you didn't want to get out of bed. You poor thing," she added, sympathetically. "But look, its perfectly natural. Why don't you take care of that whilst I go down and make us a cup of tea? Because we certainly wouldn't Mrs Higgins opposite to look through the window and see that whilst you boiled the kettle."
She hoisted herself out of bed (causing her tits to sway further) and moved to the doorway, where I could now see that the negligee was as short as it was low cut. Neither of which did anything to encourage my erection to subside.
"I'll give you some time to "take matters in hand," she suggested, with a leery grin on her face. Before traipsing downstairs to the kitchen.
