Cut From the Same Cloth

I would just like to say a very big thank you to all the people who took the time to read the first instalment of Jeanette and Matt's story. It is that positive feedback that has spurred me on to write this next part. I only hope I can go some way to satisfying your needs from the first chapter. I fully intend to maintain the slow pace and not simply rush into the gratuitous parts -- although it is very tempting. Please continue to leave feedback. Just a final word about the negative feedback, minor though it is. I think it is very easy to find fault with something that somebody else does and it's probably one of the reasons this world is in the state it is. Surely the important thing is not whether I, or anybody else, use a single apostrophe or full speech marks for conversation. The fact that you knew it was conversation surely proves that the chosen punctuation works. Do we really need a debate about the construction of the English language when we're talking/reading/writing about some of the most taboo subjects? Doesn't that negate what we're all here for? It's about enjoyment surely. And if you're not enjoying my writing, please feel free not to read it. Rant over. Now for the reason you clicked on this story. Again, feedback is still appreciated -- if it's constructive.

Thank you.

Taboorotica

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When Jeanette regained her senses she took slow stock of her surroundings. She was curled up on a damp living room carpet with her son's arms wrapped around her. She glanced down and saw the new summer dress she bought up around her slender waist. Her hips felt slightly sore, not only from the way she was resting against Matt but also because her red knickers had cut into her from where she had pulled them so far to one side to allow herself access in the first act of surrender to herself and her son. Her son. Her new found redemption. She rested her head back onto his chest and spent a while thinking about that afternoon. As her flame red hair splayed across his young, sleeping body, she felt her head rise and fall with his gentle breathing. Would it have been better, wiser, to keep the genie in the bottle and surrender to her loneliness for the rest of her life? Had she irreparably damaged her relationship with the only person she had ever loved and who had never judged her but only tried to support her? Was she the repulsive vile creature that Matt's father had made her feel?

There was a simple answer to her question. As she wrestled with her guilt, Jeanette moved to disentangle herself from her son's protective arm. As she moved to wrest herself from his grip she looked at his face to make sure she didn't disturb him and she was met with his eyes staring straight back at her. She couldn't quite read them but his simple movement spoke volumes. He simply dropped his arm from her shoulder to her waist and pulled her back into him. When she looked up her son had closed his eyes again. A murmur. Almost inaudible. 'It's alright mum. Sleep. All we have is time.'

In a heartbeat, one that she could almost hear through her own chest, Jeanette knew that her master had spoken. She would not, ever, question him. If her son walked away from this relationship when he awoke, she knew she would spend the rest of her life in silent servitude regardless of her own needs. The beautiful mother fell asleep against her son.

The house was shrouded in darkness when Jeanette awoke again. She was lying on the sofa with a blanket wrapped over her. She could smell cooking and her stomach told her she was hungry. Her soul also told her she was hungry but for something more than basic food and drink. She smiled with admiration for her new master as she noticed that Matt had not only pulled her dress back into place but had also realigned her knickers so they no longer cut into her pale flesh.

As she made her way to the kitchen, Jeanette was uncertain as to what to expect in the next conversation she had with her son.

She thought she had been noiseless in her approach but Matt, without turning said, 'You're up mum. I was hungry and I guessed you would be too. Sit down.' It wasn't a request. There was authority in his voice. Not stern but calm. In control. Her stomach sank when he further said, 'We need to talk mum.'

As he turned, she noticed the serious look on his face and it did nothing to calm her nerves. He set a plate of food in front of her and one for himself. Jeanette could do nothing but marvel at her son as he ate. How could he eat after what they had just done and what he had just said? Matt noticed his mother's hesitation. 'Eat mum. Have a little faith and eat.' She followed his instruction and slowly ate her food. As she ate, she realised, yet again, that he was right. She was famished.

Once they finished, Matt rose from the table and led his mother into the lounge. He sat her on the armchair and sat on the foot stool opposite her. There as a strange kind of symmetry to their positioning. And then he began to speak. Slow, deliberately chosen words.

'Mum, now that we have done what most people say is disgusting we need to clear up a few things. I don't want you to speak just yet and I am not going to talk in the way that makes you let go. This needs to be a reasoned conversation between two adults. For the time being I just want you to answer yes or no. You will get a chance to talk more later. You let out the feelings that have been bottled up for years but was it simply a release for you? A need to get sexual relief?'

'No Matty.'

'You see, this is all new to me mum. I feel it in my gut that I want to be the man you've needed for so long. And I want to control you, to be your master but we need to get over the idea that together we're doing something wrong. Does that make sense to you?'

'Yes love.'

'And what we did, did it make you feel like you wanted to feel or could I have done more? Now you can speak freely.'

Jeanette paused. She decided that, for better or for worse she needed to say what was in her head. To let her son know how she felt. She thought it was a calculated risk but worth it after so many years of isolation.

'Matty, I've been so lonely and you made that loneliness vanish in a single afternoon. I know we've always been close but now I feel joined to you. I don't know what you'll think of me when I say this but, to maintain the feeling we just shared, I would do anything for you. I know I should be a good mother and encourage you to go out into the world and fall in love but my heart breaks even thinking about it. I know it's so selfish but I just want you to myself. Or rather, I want you to want me to yourself. I would, and always will, do anything you ask of me Matt. I know you're my son and I shouldn't be saying this but I will serve you until my last breath. Whether you want me in the way we've just been or not. I will be yours. Forever. '

She hung her head and looked quietly at her own small feet, shoeless now. Matt's voice was barely a whisper.

'We both need to learn. I to be your master and you to serve me fully like dad never let you. I will never force you into anything mum but you will have to follow any instruction I give you. I've been thinking about it and I realise that a master needs his slave just as much as she needs her master. I will look after you and the term 'slave' won't be used but it is exactly what you'll be. Tonight we won't share a bed because I want you to think before you agree to it. It is your last opportunity to walk away from this and the last time you will be able to exercise freedom of choice. It's a massive step and I want it to be right for you. Otherwise it won't work.'

Jeanette marvelled at the maturity of the young man sitting in front of her. How could he be so calm when her insides were churning like a cheap washing machine? She saw, still looking down, his knees bend and knew he was standing up. Matt kissed his mother on the forehead and said, 'Go to bed now. Give me your answer in the morning. I couldn't love you more mum. Whatever you answer will be the right answer and it will change nothing between us. We will always be what we are. I love you. See you in the morning. And with that, he left the room and Jeanette alone.

Jeanette sat stunned. Some young men would have jumped on her and begun fucking her like their lives depended on it. But not her Matt. He had given her space. Allowed her room to think. What a master she would have if he would only let her serve him. The everyday Jeanette struggled with the enormity of what they were both considering and yet everything else told her something contrary. Her stomach was churning, her nipples ached inside her bra, the rest of her tits felt heavy and pendulous with lust, her mouth was dry but her pussy was soaking wet, the lips sticking together while the bud of her aching and erect clit shoved its way rudely through them. Every fibre of her being had already answered for her and she knew there was no way to ignore it now. But within the turmoil there was a peace and an acceptance of the start of a new life. She was excited beyond measure. She stood on weary legs and went to her own bedroom. The house was in darkness and the beautiful redhead fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.

Jeanette awoke the next morning feeling refreshed but full of trepidation. As she stirred she noticed the chair in her bedroom, normally in the corner was now beside her bed. There was a note on it and some clothes folded neatly under the note. Her dressing gown was on the back of the chair. She rubbed her eyes and in the gloom of her room squinted to read it.

'Mum, I watched you sleep last night and it was beautiful. And I thought, as I need to work today that I would leave early to give you some space to think. I also thought that to sit and discuss our situation would make it somehow contrived and so decided that we could reach our decision non verbally. On the back of your chair is your dressing gown. If you would like to remain as a 'normal' mother and son then, as I said, I will completely respect that and love you until the end of days. If that is your decision, when I come home from work, I expect you to be wearing your dressing gown. If you want to walk down the path that we stepped onto last night, then choose the clothes on the chair. That will be enough to tell me that we are to become lovers and nothing will separate us again. It's more of a difficult choice for you mum but there is no pressure from my side. I love you and will stand by you whatever. Your son, always, Matt.'

Once again, Jeanette was staggered by her son's thoughtfulness and maturity. She lay back on her pillows and smiled to herself. And then she got up. She had a few hours before he was home from work and went about tidying the house as she normally would. To the casual observer, everything seemed normal in that house.

At three o'clock Jeanette ran a bath and soaked in the bubbles. None of the usual 'running her hands all over her body' fantasy material, just a hot bath. She soaked and smiled as she had all day. And then prepared for her son's return from work.

When Matt came in he could smell dinner cooking and, as his mother had done the night before, realised how hungry he was. He tried to walk casually into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks. There was Jeanette, his mother, the woman he had been so obscene with only twenty four hours previous, wrapped in a long dressing gown from head to foot. Even the collar was up -- as well as her beautiful red hair. His heart sank and his appetite seemed, in an instant, to disappear.

Matt sank quietly into a chair and Jeanette turned round and smiled a small smile, but genuine nonetheless. 'Hello my love, how was work?'

Matt forced himself to break his reverie and answered his mother. 'Oh, you know, the usual stuff mum. Boring paperwork. But it keeps the wolf from the door.' A wan smile accompanied the last statement.

And then two things happened. The first was that Matt's subconscious reared up and slapped him. It asked him, 'What was all your fancy talk for if you didn't mean it you prick?! Promising her you'd be ok with whatever she decided. And look at you now. She's wearing the dressing gown and you're sulking inside like a spoilt brat. What a charmer you are. After everything she's been through and still managed to raise you well and how do you pay her back? It's a rhetorical question idiot -- because you already know the answer.'

Matt felt the sting of shame and acted on it. 'Mum, tell me, how was your day? What did you do? Is there anything I can do to help with the dinner?' It was as if Jeanette had heard the mental dressing down her son had given himself. She just smiled. 'It's ok Matty, I'm happy to do dinner for you. You must be hungry.'

Dinner was, for Matt, an uncomfortable silence as he fought to accept his mother's decision. When the meal was finished, Jeanette started to clear away the plates and Matt stared sadly at what he knew was under the shapeless gown his mother wore.

"Matty, why don't you go and watch some television in the living room? I'll clear up here and come in when I'm finished."

"Ok mum." Matt tried to sound cheery as he left the kitchen but nothing could have been further from the truth. He knew he had to accept the decision his mother had made and, if he was half the man he told her he was, he had to do it with love and grace. She must have had such an awful life repressing her true nature and he had allowed it out but now he had to be the son she needed in whatever way she needed it. He sat in the living room and switched on the television. Various images danced in front of him but his mind was elsewhere and he never saw them. He was almost unaware when his mother leaned over from behind him and placed a cup of tea next to him on the little table.

"Drink up Matty." The soft voice drew him from his reverie. He sipped his tea to the orchestrated sound of Jeanette clinking away at glasses and plates in the kitchen. When he had finished his drink, Matt made to get up and leave the room to return to his bedroom but at that point, a pair of hands, obviously his mother's hands, held him in place and again, her musical voice chimed softly,

"Please wait Matt." He sat back in his chair and Jeanette began to speak.

"Don't be so disappointed, I could see it in your eyes all through dinner. You're a young man and you need to keep up your strength. You can't simply go through your life not eating. What kind of a mother would I be if I let you do that?"

All of this came from behind the chair he was sitting in and Matt made no effort to turn around. He had had enough of the dressing gown covering that perfect body to last him a lifetime. And he hadn't wanted to shame himself by showing his mother exactly what she had noticed anyway.

"You know Matty, last night, it felt like you had opened Pandora's box. All sorts of things came rushing out and some, many in fact, would say they were the evils of the world. I had never been made to feel like that or allowed such strong feelings to surface. And I thank you for that. I will be eternally grateful to you my beautiful son. Eternally."

As her words faded into the semi darkness in the living room, Jeanette left the safety of her place at the back of the chair. Her legs felt weak as she walked slowly and stood in front of her son, the shapeless gown hanging loosely from her. As Matt looked on in silence, a simple shrug of her shoulders sent Jeanette's gown sliding noiselessly to the floor. And there she stood in the 'other' outfit Matt had laid out for her.

Matt's eyes drank in the sight before him. His mother with flaming red hair loose around her pretty, no beautiful, pale skinned face. The little freckles around her nose and just under her eyes gave her a look of innocence that was captivating. His eyes travelled to her shoulders. To the shiny purple bra that he had chosen. The colour of Cadbury's chocolate wrappers. And here was this sweet, his sweet, wrapped for him. Her pale tit flesh was pushed up and together to form the most alluring cleavage. He could make out the outline of two hard nipples pushing against the shiny material. Down again over her curved perfectly pouting belly. Not fat but feminine. She was a woman. The matching suspender belt, Jeanette knew, was a little clumsy but that's what young men like. That's what they see on xhamster and similar sites and that's what they're used to. She wouldn't have questioned its inclusion anyway. Not now she had accepted their roles. She had no choice. No freedom. The donning of this outfit was the same to her as signing a legally binding document that took away her right to choose, to argue, to question or to seek independence from her eighteen year old son.

And still his eyes travelled south. Onto the sheen of the purple Cadbury knickers, high waisted, over her full hips, with a drop slightly at the waist with the sides angling sharply in to accentuate his mother's every curve. Jeanette's body had betrayed her thin veil of calm and the front of the knickers were sheened with her slick aromatic juice. Her woman's pre cum. Her patterned stockings hugged her beautifully sculpted thighs and calves and the outfit ended in a pair of four inch black patent heels open at the toe to show her painted toes. Every part of her had been prepared over the afternoon before Matt had returned home and she was ready to take her place at her master's, her son's, side.

Jeanette turned slowly on her patent heels and showed him the rear view. No porno thong for her. Her son had a little class and knew that the purple knickers rising fully over her rounded pale arse would look perfect. It did. A little dimple of cellulite her and there only seemed to make it more sexy. A real woman with a real body. She dropped to her knees in front of her dumbstruck son who was only now gathering his wits and realising his mother's decision.

Jeanette rested on her elbows and shoved her knicker-clad arse high into the air while easing her knees apart to show her complete submission to Matt. He had to contain his excitement. The young man in him wanting to jump up and kiss his mother all over and ravage her and scream exultations of love to the waiting air. But she needed a master now and he had to be that master. Matt left his mother kneeling with her arse offered to him. A single word, "Stay" hung in the air as he slowly rose and left the room. When he returned his obedient mother had followed his first command. He took his clothes slowly off with his eyes never leaving her body. His erection was pulsing and turgid as he knelt beside those orbs of arse flesh offered to him. Matt could hardly contain himself but his self-control remained, barely. This was his time to own his mother. And she wanted to be owned.

The son grabbed a handful of the flame red hair and jerked his mother's head back hard. Her gasp was audible but she didn't complain. It was just as she wanted. He just had to release her inner whore again and she would feel complete.

"So mum, you seem to have reached a decision. Do you want to fuck your son?"

"Please baby, call me Jeanette, it's so hard to accept when you call me mum."

For her request Jeanette received a sharp slap across the face. "Little whore, I know that those dirty fucking wet knickers of yours are that way BECAUSE I'm your son, not in spite of it. I know that drives you closer to the edge. Who the fuck is your master little cunt?"

Another slap across the face. Jeanette was lost to herself and her inner demons. The second slap had taken her to where she had wanted to be for so many years. Without her son even knowing it she groaned and sprayed into her shiny purple knickers. To the uninitiated, it seemed like she had wet herself but her hips barely contained the bucking as each squirt filled the delectable underwear and soaked the outer lips of her cunny, running down and likewise wetting her thighs and stocking tops. Matt hadn't noticed because he was too busy with her beautiful upturned face to think yet about his mother's pussy.