Grandmother's Bed

Again, my thanks and appreciation to all those readers who voted and made comments on Chapters 1 to 3. As a result of the comments received on Chapter 3, I decided to write one last chapter; I think I was a little curious myself!

I hope you enjoy this final episode!

Sylviafan

*****

The culmination of several months of sexual experiences with my maternal grandmother (see Chapters 1 to 3) was a highly erotic and incestuous threesome; my grandmother, Sylvia, sitting on my lap, with my erection buried up to the hilt in her anus, whilst her best and longest friend knelt between our legs, licking and sucking Sylvia's clitoris whilst fucking her hole with two juice-coated fingers. Into this scene of forbidden bliss walked Sylvia's daughter, my mother, unannounced and unexpected, obviously.

Mum stopped suddenly, as though she'd just walked into a glass door, and stared at us. Nina stopped her cunnilingus, half turning to the doorway. There was silence, for about ten seconds, then:

"John, pack your bag. I'll wait in the car." With this she turned and walked out, leaving the door open. Nina looked up at us aghast, but said nothing. Sylvia dismounted me allowing my rapidly deflating prick to flop out of her arse.

"You'd better do as she says, John." I went upstairs, dressed quickly and threw a heap of stuff into an overnight bag. Downstairs Sylvia and Nina were hugging on the settee. Sylvia gave me a small smile as I passed the drawing room door and I passed through the hall and out of the front door.

Mum only lived about thirty miles away; less than an hour's drive. She didn't say anything as she drove, which was more disconcerting than if she'd thrown a tantrum. I was grotesquely discomforted, writhing internally in the passenger seat and praying for the journey to end. After half an hour or so I ventured a look at her from the corners of my eyes; she was concentrating on the road but her expression wasn't the thundercloud I'd predicted, indeed, there almost seemed to be a gleam of triumph in the set of her mouth and the creasing of her eyes.

Getting out of the car in the drive mum broke the silence:

"Go into the lounge and wait for me. We're going to have a talk." She strode indoors to the kitchen, got herself a large glass of wine and faced me in the lounge, taking a large sip. "So" she said, almost conversationally, "how long have you two been fucking?"

"A few months" I mumbled.

"Right, sit down and tell me everything." There wasn't much else I could do other than comply, so I told her the lot, including the seduction of Nina, and ending with a grovelling apology on behalf of both me and my grandmother. Mum seemed quite calm as she listened and when I had finished she took another large sip of her wine:

"So in essence you're saying my mother paraded about the house in stockings, fed you a load of supermarket Chablis (I hadn't told her about the marijuana) and seduced both you and her friend Nadia?"

"Nina. And no, it wasn't a seduction; it was more of a mutual thing."

"Yeah, ok, but she's sixty-two or something and you're a young man chock-full of testosterone. She's the one who should have known better; good grief she's your grandmother!" She sat back in the chair and took another sip, regarding me with a slightly wry expression. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, but under my still-painful embarrassment I was curious; my mother's reaction hadn't been fury or complete lack of comprehension, it was as though she'd prepared herself for this scenario. I needed to know:

"Mum, why aren't you angrier?" She looked at me for a long time:

"I am angry, but... Look, John, my mother's quite a dominant person, as you know. All my life she's dictated to me, told me what to eat and drink, what to wear, how to speak, who I could and couldn't go out with when I was a teenager, practically arranged my marriage for God's sake, and my divorce, come to that. All my life I've been treading on egg-shells around her but do you know what? When I walked into that room this afternoon, for the first time in my life, I had the upper hand. I could have said anything to her; for the rest of my life (or her's, more to the point) I can still say anything! So yes, I'm angry but in truth I've thought for a few months that there was something going on between you; don't ask me how or why, maybe that 'cat that's got the cream' expression she's been wearing recently. And I didn't do anything about it. And I think the reason I didn't do anything about it was that getting the upper hand over my mother was more important to me than the fact that she might be sleeping with my son. There, now I've said it. Go and get me another glass of wine.

When I came back with a full glass mum was looking out of the window, her hands on her hips. She was slim and elegant like her mother, but a couple of inches shorter, wider in the hips and bigger in the bust. Her red hair, legacy of her father, was cut short and neatly styled. She wasn't classically pretty but with her full lips and well defined eyebrows she looked sexy and had always attracted male looks in public, a cause of much strife before my father left the scene. Now she took the glass and looked at me, again with that wry expression.

"Was it good? The sex I mean."

"Do you really want to know?" I was blushing furiously and unable to meet her eye.

"Yes, I bloody do!"

Ok, if she wanted to know, I'd tell her: "It was fantastic. I've never been so turned on in my life."

"The lure of the forbidden fruit eh?"

"Well maybe, but after we'd started sleeping together I didn't really think of her as my grandmother, she was just this really sexy older lady." That wasn't strictly true but I was trying to play down the incest angle.

"You prefer more mature ladies then?"

"Mum, I'm just your average horny young guy. Gran's pretty good looking and she's got a great body. There're lots of grandsons who'd have done the same thing and if you believe what you read every young guy's got a thing for older women."

"Well that's more or less what I said earlier when you were defending her." In the ensuing silence I fetched a glass and the remains of the bottle from the kitchen and poured out the last of the bottle.

"You'd better bring another bottle, John. This is probably a good evening to get drunk." And, sitting together on the sofa, as the light faded, we did.

The conversation wasn't exclusively about gran and me and as we drank more, mum started talking about her relationship with her mother. It felt very odd for me because in some ways I knew her mother better than she did. As bottle number three passed into history the conversation turned more to the physical aspects of our sexual relationship. Mum was interested in what we did together and as bottle number four was broached, the conversation started to become explicit. By now we were both very drunk, something that I don't think I had ever seen before in my mother. She was weaving slightly from side to side and having some trouble focussing.

"And what was my mother's favourite position?" An hour or two ago I would have been shocked beyond belief at this statement; now I considered it with drunken graveness:

"Doggie position, definitely, she said it gave the deepest penetration."

"Me too" slurred mum. "Meant I didn't have to look at your dad's face!" She shrieked with laughter and swayed against me. Without warning, the laughter turned to tears and her chest started heaving with great racking sobs. Horrified I put both arms around her and hugged her close to me:

"Mum I'm really sorry. I would never have done it if I thought you were going to find out." Even pissed I was aware that this argument sounded like something Homer Simpson might say. Mum didn't seem to notice; she buried her head in my shoulder and wailed:

"No, you don't understand, I'm crying because however wrong it is, you and my mother have got a relationship, an intimacy that leaves me out. I've never had a close relationship with her and now I've got nothing!" A surge of protectiveness and, yes, passion flowed through me and I held her close and kissed her forehead and cheeks. Lifting her head she looked at me with swimming eyes:

"Oh John, I need to be loved too." I leant down and kissed her lips, and she responded, placing her hands on either side of my head and pressing her lips to mine, parting my lips slightly with her tongue. I tilted my head slightly to better engage her lips and her mouth opened against mine, her tongue entering me fully. The kiss started to heat up and we were working our lips against each other when she broke away:

"No, we mustn't, this is crazy; I'm going to bed." She practically fled the room and I heard her feet pattering up the stairs. With slow and deliberate movements, I poured out the rest of the wine and lay back drunkenly. The sofa appeared to rise up at one end whilst remaining fixed. I sat up and the apparent motion stopped. Draining the glass I lay full length on the sofa, my breathing rushing in my ears and the room now spinning. In that position I passed into a sleep-like coma.

The following morning I was still drunk but a monumental hangover was looming. Mum was hardly much better.

"Just how much did we drink last night?" she asked, wrapped in a bathrobe and slumped in a chair.

"Four bottles."

"Christ, no wonder I feel like this."

"Well, it could have been worse" I said with residual drunkenness, "if we'd had five bottles we'd probably have ended up in bed together." As soon as the words were out I wished I hadn't said it but mum just looked at me without expression;

"You think you could have performed after all that wine?" The awkward moment was cut short by the smell of burning from the kitchen and she sprang into the kitchen to save our breakfast.

A full fry-up did much to restore my physical well-being and mother's too apparently as she announced that she was going shopping and invited me to accompany her.

"No thanks, I've got a load of course work to catch up on."

"Pity you're not taking psychology. You'd have enough material for a doctoral thesis." She smiled to take the sting out of this and kissed my cheek. "I'll see you in a couple of hours." As soon as the car had turned out of the drive I went straight to bed and fell heavily asleep.

I was woken about five hours later by a tap on the door and my mother entering with a cup of tea. I felt hugely refreshed. "How's the course work coming along?" she asked.

"Yeah, ok. How did the shopping go, did you buy anything?"

"Some more wine."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Well we don't have to drink it all." We exchanged a look and mum put the mug on the bedside table. "You remember us kissing last night?"

"Yes" I said neutrally. "Do we need to discuss that?"

"Maybe" she said and rising she left the bedroom, the faint odour of her perfume hanging in the air.

So what was going on here exactly? Was my mother coming on to me? I'd certainly tried to initiate something last night but in the state I was in I'd have kissed the cat if it had put some lipstick on. Was she playing some game that was really focussed on her mother? Did I fancy my mother? Well I'd certainly masturbated plenty of times whilst thinking of her but would I actually go through with it with mum? It was different with grandmother, I hadn't seen that much of her for years and, at the end of the day, she wasn't the one who'd given birth to me. I came to the conclusion, as I had known I would, that I'd drink some more wine, see how mother reacted and take it as it came.

Dinner was therefore a little strained. We both drank and ate quite quickly, a shame as the fish pie mum had made was really excellent but we both seemed to want to get to the next stage of the evening, whatever that may turn out to be, as quickly as possible. So we took our drinks through to the lounge and settled onto the sofa. My old mum was full of surprises; whatever I was expecting her to say it wasn't what she did say:

"So, John, how much more of this wine do you need to drink to kiss me again?"

"Couple of sips should do it." We both put down our glasses and I moved up next to her on the settee, putting my left arm around her back and my right arm around her front, my hand under her left arm. She moved into my embrace and we came together and kissed for long minutes, savouring the feel and taste of each other's mouths, the feel of each other's bodies under our exploring hands. Mum broke the kiss first:

"Are you ok with this?" She whispered."

"Oh yes." We kissed again, as before the passion heightened but this time there was no breaking away. My hand pressed the back of her head, pushing our faces together, mashing our lips. Mother was alternating between sucking my bottom lip and pushing her tongue as far as she could into my mouth. My right hand cupped her left breast and sought the nipple, hardening beneath the blouse and bra, she pressed her nails into my back, raking them up and down my shirt and moaning into my mouth.

Then she was undoing the buttons on my shirt, pulling it free from my waistband, sliding it down my arms and onto the floor. I pulled her back into a kiss and undid her blouse and we broke apart again so she could take it off, revealing her bra. She was breathing heavily, her pupils dilated. I pulled her towards me again, gently, giving her time to turn away but she just reached behind and unclipped her bra revealing large round breasts with milk-chocolate nipples and dimpled areolae. We came together for another kiss, both of us hungry for it, tongues darting in and out, tasting each other's saliva; mum's nails dug into my back and I used my free hand to roll one of her nipples between my finger and thumb, pinching it so she gasped and dug her nails in me harder. I broke the embrace to lower my head, taking the hardened little nub into my mouth, alternately sucking and gently biting on it.

Mum held my head in her hands and lay back on the settee. I moved across to her right breast, giving that the same treatment whilst twiddling her saliva-wet left nipple.

"John, please, take me to bed!" Standing I pulled her upright and we kissed again; then taking her hand I led her up to her bedroom where we faced each other next to the bed. Mum's face was flushed, her lips parted slightly and swollen from arousal and kissing. Without speaking we both completed our undressing, mum pulling down her skirt and tights, me taking my trousers, underpants and socks off all in one downward pull. My cock was rigid and leaking a clear liquid. Mum came to me again and our naked bodies touched for the first time. She put her arms around my neck and pulled my head down to kiss her. I cupped both her buttocks and pressed her into my crotch, feeling her pubic bush against the underside of my cock, and rocking my hips slightly to engage with her vagina. Taking me with her she backed to the bed, sitting down and then pulling me on top of her. Wriggling into the centre of the bed we kissed wildly again, our hands roaming at will over each other's bodies. Her legs opened beneath me and I knew she wanted me to penetrate her.

Supporting myself on knees and elbows I looked down at her and as I looked she reached between us, grasping my slippery erection and guiding it to her vaginal entrance:

"Now, darling!"

Slowly I pivoted forward on my knees and elbows and my penis entered my mother's vagina easily and fully; as I penetrated her I watched her face and leaned down to kiss her, this time tenderly, as a real lover might. She kissed me back, her lips light on mine and her hands flicking over my neck and back like butterfly wings. Slowly, slowly I eased out and pushed back inside; and she met my slow thrust with her hips, locking her legs over mine.

"Oh god, oh god, don't stop!" She moaned, looking at me through half-closed eyes as I continued to fuck her with long, slow strokes. I started lowering my body fractionally at the end of each thrust to increase the contact with her clitoris and she responded by bucking her hips up to me a little harder; we were still moving slowly but beautifully synchronised. The feeling for me was almost indescribable; mum's pussy was still quite tight and the feeling as I pushed in and she met me, bracing herself against my legs, was exquisite. Time slowed down and the universe contracted to the two of us, fucking slowly, kissing and licking each other's faces; I had never felt so physically and emotionally engaged with any partner before.

"Ohhh, darling, is it good for you? Is mummy doing it how you like it?" Her use of "mummy" was intensely erotic and I almost came there and then. Slowing slightly to compensate, I kissed her and pinched one of her nipples hard:

"Yes, mummy's very good, and I'd like to fuck mummy often, in all sorts of positions!" As I said this she started to lose a bit of control and it occurred to me that she was finding the incest angle at least as exciting as me. Her breathing became ragged and her eyes glazed. Embracing me she dug her nails savagely into the skin of my shoulders and thrust hard to meet me;

"Oh, oh, oh, yes, yes, YES, YES. You're making mummy come, yes, yes, YES, YES, fuck me hard oooooohhhhhh, aaaaahhhhh, coming NOW! Oh Christ oh god! Mum screamed, her eyes filling with tears, hands clawing at my shoulders and mouth gaping. That was it for me too; I felt the tell-tale tingling in the base of my cock:

"Oh god, mum I'm coming." And then my orgasm hit, pulsing through my body and brain, pumping my semen into my mother's cunt. Afterwards we lay in each other's arms and I felt no guilt or remorse. Mother or no mother, when the lovemaking is that good it was meant to be!

"Mum, it sounds like a cliché but it's never been that good before with anyone."

"Same here." She turned her head to face me. "I should feel guilty by this or at least embarrassed by the things I said when I was close to coming, wonderful orgasm by the way; but I don't. I just wanted to give myself completely to you and give you so much pleasure that you'd want to have me again and again."

"I suppose there's no sort of a competition going on here with gran to see who's the best fuck?"

"Well thanks for bringing that up at this moment! But I suppose there's some truth in that." She paused. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Who's the best fuck?"

I didn't answer that question, then or ever.

"If we're to be lovers on a regular basis, what should I call you? Mum sounds a bit odd."

"I thought you liked me as "mummy" in bed?"

"Well, yes I do."

"Ok so I'm mummy in bed and Valerie out of it."

Valerie and I slept together that night, waking in the small hours to make love again. This time she started by straddling me and riding my cock, crushing her clitoris against my pelvis. In this position she came quickly and dismounted:

"Did you say your favourite position was doggy-fashion, mummy?" Grinning, mum went on all fours and pushed her rear end back at me. Parting her bum cheeks I guided my cock inside her and, gripping her hips, started thrusting hard and fast. She went down onto her shoulders, holding the bedstead and shoving herself back at me:

"Go on, give it to me hard darling, squirt your hot come into mummy." Again this abandoned talk pushed me over the edge and I had a second orgasm, slapping the cheeks of her arse with one hand as I spent myself into her.

Over the next few days we stayed at home and could barely keep our hands off each other. I discovered that my mother's favourite position was actually the missionary because she loved to kiss while we fucked. I also found out that she gave a truly sensational blowjob, although she was not keen on swallowing my come; she adored cunilingus and I spent long periods with my mouth buried in her reddish brown snatch, licking sucking and gently nibbling her. She would often climax as I tongued her, her hands entwined in my hair, pushing my face harder into her cunt and calling out for me to lick mummy until she came.