This is a story about a mother and her son in my home country, Sri Lanka. Also the theme would be a different one than the other incest stories you find on this site. So, I hope this would be a different experience for all of you rather than my previous stories. Enjoy.
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A son always loves his mother as a son always do and some love their mothers in the ways the sons are not supposed to. They may not be able to express their feelings, but at least they have it in their minds. It's called the Oedipus complex. In my case I was no different in the first type of love. But in the second category, I didn't know if what I had was truly the Oedipus complex or not. I didn't really want to fuck her. The things I wanted most were her breasts and her armpits, the pussy would be a bonus if I could have it. I know, some of you might laugh at me. But let me tell you my story.
I'm Kamal Jayasekara, 19 years old at the time this story begins. I was waiting for the results in Advanced Level exam and I was following an accounting course until the university started. I was the only son in the family which my parents had divorced when I was only 13. I've been living with my mother since then. Her name is Shanthi Jayasekara, 42 years old at the time of the story, a Mathematics teacher in one of the popular schools in the city and also she has a reputation in the neighborhood as a kind woman. We were so close almost like friends as we were the only ones living in our home. We could tell each other anything at any time. We didn't have any financial problems as my mother did a job and my father also looked after my expenses even though he was living away from us.
Let me tell you about ourselves. I'm about 5' 10" tall and my mother stood at 5'5", about 5 inches shorter than me. My mother was a modest woman. She wore long skirt with a matching blouse in home and the 'Osariya', the traditional dress of Sri Lankan women to the school. But still she had a good sense about fashion. She had a body which you can't say chubby, but had her fat in all the right places with large breasts, 36D in size. Talking about her armpits, I know for a fact that they are hairy. I don't know whether she trims them or shaves them regularly, but they are hairy. You must be wondering how I got to know this before doing anything.
My mother comes home from school at about 2.30 in the afternoon and I come home from my accounting course 2 days a week at about 4 p.m. One day, I didn't have the afternoon lectures and I was able to come home around 2.45 p.m. The front door was open and I knew that mother was home. I entered through the front door and walked towards my room which was the next to mother's room. As I went past her bedroom door, I saw that the door was slightly ajar. I hid behind the wall and peeked into her room. I froze right there seeing the sight right in front of my eyes. My conservative mother was combing her hair after the bath clad only in her white knickers. She was sitting on the stool in front of the mirror. It was angled to the side she couldn't see me hiding, but I could see her upper body on the mirror and her fat thighs. Her breasts looked big, topped with large brown areolae and long nipples. They weren't sagging much as they should be on a 42 year old woman. As she was combing the top of her head, she had to lift her hand and I could see the hairy armpits of her. My cock became hard within a matter of seconds. I couldn't bear it any longer. So I went to the front door again silently and shouted, "Amma, I'm home," and ran to my room. I masturbated my six inch cock in the bathroom until I shot the biggest load in my life on to the bathroom wall.
From that day onward, that was my fantasy in masturbation, my mother's breasts and armpits. I have to tell you that I was a virgin by that time. I had a girlfriend, but she wanted to wait until the marriage. I really wanted to dump her or cheat on her. But I couldn't make my mind to that as I really loved her. So, my hand was my friend until then. Also, I don't think that my mother spends an active sex life too. Most of the women in my country don't date after their divorce especially when they are over 35. And I've never even seen or heard my mother with any man after the divorce.
One day, I came home from my accounting lectures in the evening and saw that my mother wasn't there to be seen in the living room or the garden. She was usually in either of those places when I returned. So I shouted, "Amma, amma," and just peeked into her room. Mother was there sleeping on her bed. But it wasn't a common sight to see my mother sleeping in the evening. So I walked to her bed and knelt beside her. She was sleeping facing the wall. I shook her by keeping my hand on her right shoulder. "Amma, I'm home. Why are you sleeping? Are you okay?" I asked. She woke up and moaned in pain. "Aaahh... Please don't touch it Kamal," She said turning to me in pain.
"What happened amma?" I asked.
"It's nothing son. I just slipped in the bathroom and my shoulder hit quite hard on the wall while I tried to hold on to something. Now it is painful to move," She said.
"You must've gone to the hospital amma. Who knows if there's a dislocation or not. Come on, let's go to the hospital," I said helping her to get up.
"It's nothing Kamal. I think it'll go away in couple of days," She said.
But somehow I was able to persuade her to go to the hospital. I offered to help her to get dressed. But she refused help and changed her dress herself. We visited the nearest hospital in my motor cycle. The doctor did some checkups on my mother and informed us that there was no dislocation, just a bruise of her shoulder. He gave some medicine and a lotion to apply daily.
We went home and bought our dinner on our way home as it was difficult for mother to cook with only a single hand properly working. Once again she refused my help in changing her clothes. I waited in the living room until she changed. I could hear her whimpers as her shoulder was giving her a lot of pain. She came out of the room after a long time, changed into her night dress. Then we had dinner and watched some tele-dramas.
She wanted to go to the bed room. But I reminded her that the lotion must be applied before sleep. "I can apply it myself," She said.
"Amma, don't be so stubborn. I know it's difficult for you to do everything alone now. I'm your son. So please let me help," I said.
"No Kamal. I can do it myself, really," She refused my help.
"I heard you moan in pain while you were changing your clothes. So let me help you once. I'd not do it again if you don't want to," I plead her.
She thought for a while and said, "All right. But if I'll stop you if I'm not satisfied."
"Deal," I said.
I followed mother into her room. She sat on the bed. I sat on right her side facing her and I put left leg behind her and the right leg over her lap. "Is this okay amma? Should I change my position?" I asked to check if my position was uncomfortable to her.
"No son, you can continue."
She unbuttoned the two top buttons of her dress and let the right shoulder of her dress fall a bit on her arm. It didn't drop much as the other buttons weren't undone. But it was enough to see the top part of her large right breast covered with the bra. I saw the bruise for the first time. It was right on the shoulder joint. Having her bra strap was right next to the bruise. So I asked her, "Amma, it is difficult for me to apply the lotion while your bra strap is there. May I pull it down?" I asked. I wished that she'd say yes. She looked at me and then the bra strap. "Will it be really hard to apply it?" She asked.
"No amma, I can. But it will ruin your bra. I think it's a new one, isn't it?" I asked trying to persuade mother to remove the strap.
"Yes, it's a new one," She said and reached it with her left hand.
But I stopped her. "Please amma, let me do it."
