Milf Has Son to Masturbate Her

Annabel cradled her phone in both hands and, with difficulty, pressed the number to speak to her son. ''Hi, Mark. Sorry to trouble you but there's a couple of things I can't do with my hands. Your dad has just gone off on business to the other side of the world and won't be back for god knows how long.'' Annabel felt stupid for having such a silly accident. She had tripped down a couple of steps onto a concrete pavement and had tried to break her fall with her hands and cracked some bones.

Mark, her son, had seen the plaster casts for the fractures on both his mum's wrists and hands. He said, ''The hospital took the casts off yesterday. I didn't know dad had gone abroad. How do you feel?''

''I thought I was going to be okay but my fingers are so weak. I can't open a can of soup or unscrew a jar. Lifting a pan for cooking is a struggle. The doctor said it's going to take three weeks before I get back any strength. The neighbours said they'd help but -''

Mark interrupted, ''I'm going to come over, Mum. I'll pack a bag and I'll be with you in a couple of hours.''

Annabel said she didn't want to put her son to any trouble but he insisted he was going to come and stay. ''But,'' she said, ''you have your own work to do.''

''I'll bring my laptop, Mum, and I can work remotely, so don't worry.''

After their conversation, she felt relieved. Mark was mature for his age of 20 and she welcomed his immediate, no-nonsense reaction to Annabel's distress. There was even a little excitement to have her son stay for a few days. Perhaps he could do some small jobs around the house, she thought, which her husband, Peter, never got around to doing.

In Annabel's bedroom, she wanted to smarten herself up but changing into a dress was impossible. Her fingers were not strong enough to pull up the zip which was too tight. Instead, Annabel opted for a thick roll-neck pullover and slacks. Although her fingers were weak, she applied pink lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror. Friends told her that she looked like a young Eva Longoria from Desperate Housewives (Gabrielle) fame, on account of Annabel's dark eyes and sun-kissed skin tone as well as the dark long hair parted in the middle.

At midday, Mark arrived and held her hands. ''Mum, show me how tight you can grip me. Shake my hand.''

''There. I'm doing my best.'' She looked up at his eyes. ''I can do most things.'' Her voice lacked confidence.

''Most things? You don't need to try, Mum, because I'm here to look after you. In fact, if you force yourself too much you could delay the mending of your fractures.'' Mark gave her a hug.

They chatted in the kitchen while Mark prepared the lunch and Annabel held a glass of wine and sat on the bar stool. She admired his cooking skills and assumed they would be useful when entertaining girlfriends. At least three girlfriends had come and gone with Mark and it appeared he'd dumped each one of them although Annabel didn't know why.

''Have you got a girlfriend?''

He came over and put his arm around her shoulders. ''No, Mum. I find girls of my age boring. I think I prefer older women. Mind you, I haven't experienced an older woman. Not yet!'' He picked up his bottle of beer. ''Are you surprised?''

''Umm.'' She shrugged. ''What age of woman interests you?'' Annabel liked the way his loose white shirt spread open as he leaned on the bar top to look at her. The gap at Mark's neck gave a view of his chest. Her glance had lingered too long and she forced her eyes to make contact with his face.

Mark appeared not to notice her inspection of his body and he said, ''I find I'm more interested in women your age, Mum. About 40 years because they've seen life, had children and probably know what they want from a man.''

''A divorced woman.''

''Or married.''

Annabel reacted. ''That means having an affair, splitting up a family.''

''No,'' said Mark confidently. ''A one-night stand with a married woman is not having an affair in my view. But if I saw her several times it could improve her desires towards her husband.''

Annabel thought it was illogical. ''So, Mrs X gets all fired up with you and tells Mr X. That won't work.''

''Well,'' said Mark. ''Suppose Mrs X does not tell her husband? Mr X might see an increased interest in sex from his wife. You never know.''

Annabel wondered what it would be like to have a young lover and not tell Peter, her husband. ''Affairs mean there are lies told and secrets which can't be good for a marriage.''

Mark put his warm hand over Annabel's and said, ''If I made love to a woman like you, Mum, I would suggest she tell her husband afterwards.'' He twisted his mouth and smiled.

The boyishness of her son was obvious to Annabel. He argued sincerely with words and killer eyes. ''I don't know what Peter would do if I told him I'd been unfaithful.''

Mark turned to check the cooking and stirred some sauce. He turned sideways towards the window and Annabel noticed how well his jeans fitted him and she let her eyes linger on the bulge between his legs. She laughed. ''I'll let my friend Bev know you're available!''

Mark retorted, ''Pur-lees no. Bev is not my sort. You are my ideal woman.'' He paused and laughed. ''You know my friends have talked about you being a MILF. Do you know what that means?''

His words 'you are my ideal woman' were still reeling through her mind as Annabel blurted out, ''No, I mean, yes. I do know what MILF means.'' She couldn't imagine having sex with any man so young, let alone her son. ''Why do you find a woman like me, at my age, attractive? In bed I mean. You know, sexually irresistible?'' She raised her eyebrows and took a swig of wine to give her strength.

''I don't have a good answer for that. I just find you, or someone like you, sexy and arousing.''

As Annabel crossed her legs she found her mind crowded with thoughts. Was Mark hitting on his mother or was it playful banter? And to have sex with any man was, surely, a betrayal of her marriage? Should she tell Peter of this conversation?

Lunch was ready and they talked of other things but she still kept in mind their previous exchanges. In the afternoon, Mark did his computer work and Annabel went for a walk to clear her head. On her return, she decided on a shower and a change of clothes. An expensive lace top and a skirt would portray herself as an elegant mature woman who was above all this sex talk.

To undress, Annabel had to swivel her bra so that the elastic clip was in front and she just managed to unclip it. The shower was a problem because the squeeze tube of gel was a job that her husband, Peter, would have done for her. Frustrated and wet after dropping the gel tube and sponge, she grabbed a large towel, marched into the bedroom and called for Mark. On his arrival, he saw his mother with just a towel covering her.

''Would you mind, please, squeezing soap on my hands?'' Annabel led the way into the bathroom. ''Look the other way, Mark, while I get back in the shower.'' She paused as the water drenched her hair and body before continuing with Mark. ''You can turn around and squeeze soap onto my hand.'' Annabel kept her body mainly turned away from her son with her hand outstretched through the gap in the shower door. After several squeezes and gently using her hands to wash, she wondered how to do her back.

He said, ''Don't overdo it. Use your fingers without putting pressure on them.''

She heard Mark and knew that he was right. ''What else can one do?''

''I'll do your back.''

Before Annabel could say anything, he had fully opened the screen door to get in. ''Face the wall,'' he said.

''But you've still got your clothes on!''

''Yes, I'm getting wet. Hang on.'' He got out.

Annabel put one hand on the wall and regretted saying anything about his clothes because he swiftly discarded everything and came back inside the cubicle. Her senses were heightened as Mark used the sponge to spread lather all over her back. The way he did it; the right strength, the soothing push under her arms and armpits (which she loved) and the calmness sent her into a dream world. Annabel managed to say, ''Thank you, Mark. We can finish now.''

Mark got out, took a towel and his clothes and said as he left, ''Call me for any reason, Mum.''

Annabel sat on the edge of the bath wrapped in a towel. The invigorating effect of having her back washed by another man surprised her. She reminded herself that it cannot and mustn't go any further than that. She rubbed her wet hair with the towel.

She chose her clothes, managed to put on her panties and called for Mark again. ''Sorry about this,'' she said as he came into the bedroom, ''but I can't manage all this.'' She had covered her breasts with a folded arm.

''No need to say sorry. I want to help.'' He kissed her on the cheek. ''Now, what can I do?''

She turned around and positioned her bra. ''Can you clip me at the back, please?''

He fiddled a little with the two clips which made Annabel smile. ''And can you help me with my shirt? It's going to be a struggle to do the buttons.''

In helping her with the white cotton shirt, he may have taken a bit longer to gather it at the front and fasten the lowest button first. His fingers were near her pubic bone and she debated why she had worn white panties with a top fringe in lace. But it was too late now as he must have seen it. The over-slow progress up her shirt with each button made her inwardly smile but resulted in her nipples becoming hard. The bra had matching lace and to her embarrassment the trace of her nipples was obvious.

She stepped into her loose skirt and Mark took his time to push the bottom of her blouse under the skirt before he slowly zipped it up. ''Thank you, Mark.''

He said, ''Sit at your table and I'll dry your hair. Where is the hair dryer?''

Annabel hadn't thought about her hair and he appeared to be in control a lot more than her. After a few minutes of blow-dry, she said with a smile, ''You have hidden talents.''

They both laughed and he murmured close to her ear, ''I want to become good at looking after my adorable mother. I want to do everything for you. I may need practice at certain things so ask for anything, Mum.''

After that, Mark left and Annabel continued to sit for a while in front of the mirror. She whispered to her reflection, ''Be careful my girl and don't cross a line. Remember, he is my son. Sincere, handsome with dark eyes and a strong jaw. And I assume a body with just enough muscles to look after me.'' There was now a slight pinkness in her cheeks.

Mark worked until 6 o'clock and then proposed that he take her out to dinner.

The corner table in the French Bistro had subdued Parisian music through speakers as they sat at a round table side-by-side. The red candle stuffed into a wine bottle dribbled wax, and the white tablecloth and short menu seemed to suggest one could be in France.

During the meal, Annabel felt the occasional contact with her son's knee but she didn't change the way her legs were placed. Once or twice, he put his hand over hers but every gesture was innocent enough, she thought.

They didn't expect to dance but two other couples got up to dance to the soft music. Her words came quickly without thinking, ''I'd like to dance with you.''

He held her hand and they walked onto the small dance area, their bodies in touch with each other, her cheek in contact with Mark's shoulder and his cheek next to her hair. She seemed lost in the atmosphere. Little was said. Annabel knew she'd want to have sex tonight, by herself with the help of her toy. If Peter had been here, there would not have been the same feeling of need. The truth was that sex with her husband was infrequent but they loved each other all the same.

After returning home, they watched a game show on television. Then Annabel wanted to relax in bed and asked Mark to unclip her bra. Both she and Mark made a joke of it as they sat on the sofa while her son undid the buttons on her shirt before he undid the bra. She stood to have the skirt zip undone and she kissed him good night while half undressed.

In bed, Annabel found it difficult to hold a book to read because her wrists were sore and her fingers slightly swollen. She switched out the light and thought of her day and what she would do if she had a lover, although the idea of having an affair went against her nature. She wondered how she would contact a gigolo for sex. In the dark, she reached for her toy in the side drawer.

Her routine was to play with herself by using two fingers together to circle her clit. A fantasy of a young gigolo came to mind and her pussy became damp at the same time as a wave of desire caused her clit to swell but Annabel couldn't apply enough pressure with her fingers.

The thin pink toy was beside her but she could not turn the base to switch on the rotating head within the soft plastic membrane. In frustration, she swore and threw the thing away. It clattered loudly onto her makeup desk and knocked over a framed photograph. The heavy silence lasted 15 seconds and was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Mark popped his head in. ''I heard a crash. Are you okay?'' The light from the landing picked out the debris on the floor.

She sounded fed up when she replied, ''Oh, it's nothing.'' The light behind him silhouetted his frame.

He casually walked over to the desk. She could see that her son wore only pyjama bottoms, a cord tied at his waist. He came over to the bed and sat on the edge. ''Most women have one so it's nothing to be embarrassed about.''

Annabel wondered if he was referring to dildos. She didn't know what to say.

''Put your wrists together,'' said Mark in a self-assured voice.

It seemed a simple request to Annabel, not harmful so she complied. He reached for her dressing gown on the top of the bed and slid out the tie cord. She couldn't think what he had in mind and watched while her wrists were gently tied.

He said, ''Now put your wrists above your head and rest them. I don't want you to use them or move them until I say.''

She knew she could easily slip the knot but it was easier to play along and Annabel said nothing.

Mark seemed calm and in control. He went over to shut the bedroom door and now there was no light. It seemed to Annabel that it was total darkness. She could tell that he stood close to the bed before saying, ''I know what you want and I'll do it for you. We're in the dark so there's no point in being shy about your body.''

The sexual need came back to her but this time it was more powerful. Her body craved to be satisfied. Her brain couldn't think of anything logical to say so she kept her hands on the pillow behind her head.

The sheet that covered her was slowly pulled back by her son as he stood next to her. The only garment she wore was a small camisole which just covered her breasts. His hand lifted her leg nearest to him and brought it up before he sat on the edge of the bed between her legs. It meant that her legs were now spread while Mark sat between them with her outside leg draped over his lap.

He moved his seated position along the edge towards her so that her leg widened more and rested on his pyjama-clad thigh. He placed a hand on her bare knee and caressed up towards her pussy.

The hush between them ended as she found her voice and whispered, ''I'm your mother and a son mustn't do this. You must stop, Mark, because I'm too weak to resist.''

''Don't worry, Mum, I'm simply going to help you with this. Tell me how to satisfy you.''

To think of anything reasonable to say was impossible as Mark moved his thumb around the perimeter of her pussy and touched her pubic hair. She groaned. ''I want it quick, Mark.''

His thumb covered her clit and her body shook. At the same time, he inserted the thin dildo and switched it on. In seconds, Annabel's stomach gripped tight and she came, the orgasm caused her to call out, ''Oh, fuck. Oh yesss. Yes, darling.'' The panting and heavy breathing helped to bring her down to earth.

In the dark, Mark pulled her tied hands down and undid the cord, straightened her leg and put the sheet back to cover her. ''Good night, Mum. I've put your dildo on the side table. See you in the morning.'' She felt his kiss on her lips. And then he was gone. Sleep didn't come easily for Annabel.

In the morning, Annabel stepped into the shower. About a minute later, Mark came into the bathroom, discarded his pyjama bottoms and joined his mother. It happened so fast that Annabel had no time to object, not that she wanted to because her healing hands and fingers were still weak. ''Morning, Mum,'' is all he said. While he soaped her back, she stretched her hands up the tiled wall. Mark took advantage and ran his soapy hands over her shoulders, up her arms, down her ribs and around her bottom.

It took a great effort for Annabel to say, ''No more, Mark. Thank you, darling.'' She sounded breathless. Her son lightly smacked her bum and left. Her body was still sensitive. Last night, it had taken her an hour to get to sleep because she'd continued to lightly stroke her clit to produce a series of orgasms. It was going to take an effort to talk to Mark about what happened between them but she resolved to do so, to draw a line, to stop the sex.

To dress without his help meant no bra, a man-sized heavy pullover and floppy slacks. That morning, Mark worked and Annabel had things to do. After lunch, she couldn't think of how to start the conversation about sex. It was Mark who began by saying, ''You want to talk about us I think?''

She nodded. Mark took her hand and guided his mum over to the window where he pressed a button on his device to play music. He said, ''I spoke to Dad this morning. It was evening time for him in India. And I told him I was looking after you. I told him everything I was doing for you.''

''Wait. You didn't tell him about last night, did you!?''

''Dad is concerned for you. He realises now how much you cannot do. I told him you couldn't dress yourself and he asked what that meant specifically so I said I did your bra and your clothes, your hair and all that.''

Annabel began to accept that her son was not joking. Music played. Somehow, he'd put her arms around his shoulders and, without her realising, they began to dance to the same French music from the restaurant. ''And what did your father say?''

''He understands. Dad asked about washing so I questioned him about what he would do. Dad said he'd get into the shower with you. I simply replied I did the same, naked, with you.''

Annabel felt shocked at the audacity of her son. At the same time, her senses became confused by the closeness of their dance, the seductive music and the increased thump of her heart against her chest. ''You told Peter we were naked?''

''Yes. Dad was okay with that. Of course, he was. How else are you able to wash properly.''

Annabel looked Mark squarely in the face and said, ''You didn't tell him about us in bed, I hope?''

''Yes, I did. We had a man-to-man chat about sex.''

''I don't believe you.'' She debated why she felt sexy. Mark had his hands on her lower back and their bodies swayed to the rhythm of the sound from his device. Perhaps, she wondered, it was the conversation that was creating her desire. ''I don't believe you,'' she repeated.

''Dad and I are on the same wavelength. Sex is part of us men and most women also, in the right circumstances. I told dad about the bistro dancing and that we both wanted something more.''

''Oh my god,'' moaned Annabel.

Mark continued, ''I told him you needed to do it herself but couldn't start your toy. That's what I said to him. Dad understood and we talked a bit. I said I did need to assist you. He didn't ask for any more details.''

Annabel whispered, ''Oh... my... god.''