Mother Comes to Stay

Darren turned his key in the door, conscious that for the first time in nearly a year he would not be coming home from work to an empty house. Ever since the old plastic had got a bit out of hand Debbie had worked the late shift to get both ends somewhere near meeting. Now, they were nearly on top of their bills and she was working more to buy much needed new things than to pay for past purchases. But she was still working and it would not be his wife waiting for him, but his mother.

Replaced by a newer model and driven into near depression by her husband's (Darren's father) desertion, his mother had come to stay while she learned to cope with life as a divorcee. Just yesterday he had lugged her suitcases up to the spare bedroom while she and Debbie shared coffee and gossip in the kitchen. He could see, if he wasn't careful, that he would be ganged up on by the two women and for that reason was quite pleased that he would only have to cope with them one at a time, so to speak - oh, except at weekends.

"Hi Ma! You in?" He called out to a silent house.

"Yes dear, I'm upstairs... resting."

Darren noticed the slight pause before the word 'resting', but mentally shrugged as he hung his hi-viz vest in the hall and then wandered through into the kitchen to investigate food.

A casserole was bubbling gently and a cold dessert was chilling in the fridge along with a couple of beers, and he was beginning to see the advantages of having his mother around. It made a change from having to zap a microwave dinner or rely on his own, very limited, culinary repertoire. He smiled happily. A quick shower to get rid of the days grime and he'd be ready to eat.

Kicking off his work boots Darren bounded up the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Then, automatically and without even thinking about the occupant, he glanced into the spare room as he went past, instantly regretting it and instantly flaming with embarrassment. His mother, his fifty-two year old respectable mother, was lying naked on the bed and she was masturbating.

His confusion was complete and, though it wouldn't be true to say he ran to the bathroom, it wouldn't be far wrong either. His mind was in turmoil, his was never a family comfortable with nudity and he could never remember having seen his mother naked before, much less indulging in such a personal activity. He'd just never thought of her as a sexual being and the discovery made him feel very uncomfortable.

He turned on the shower and went over it in his mind. He'd have to say something, it would be unfair not to, but what? Should he tell her what he'd seen? Could her tell her what he'd seen even? No, but he could just say about her door not being shut properly. Yes, that would do it, she might realise he'd seen her, but it left it unsaid. He wished he'd never looked in and vowed always to keep his eyes averted as he passed his mother's room. The whole thing disturbed him greatly.

Something else that disturbed him greatly was the fact that his mother had a fit body for her age. Yes, she was lying down and things don't sag so much lying down, but she looked to have pretty firm breasts and a nice flat stomach. But it wasn't so much her body that bothered him, but simply the fact that he'd noticed. Worse still, he stood in the shower with a semi erection, his penis responding to the sight of a naked woman and ignoring who she was.

He towelled himself dry, shrugged himself into his robe and went into his bedroom to put on fresh jeans and a sweatshirt before setting off to go downstairs. About a yard into the corridor he stopped dead, wondering for a moment how to pass that door again, then noticing that it was now shut and he could pass with impunity. Well, at least I won't have to say anything he told himself with relief, because she's obviously realised for herself.

Dinner was a strange meal. Both he and his mother talked incessantly, he to stop himself looking at the woman who now sat opposite him and thinking of her masturbating on her bed, and she, he presumed, because she always chattered away.

All evening he saw the image of her nakedness in his head, and all evening he fought to stop himself responding to it. When Debbie finally came home and they went to bed he made love to her with fierce passion, but in his head it wasn't Debbie he was fucking, but his mother. Sleep, when it finally came, was interrupted by wakeful periods of intense shame and embarrassment.

The next night, as he drove home, he prayed that he would find his mother sitting in the lounge knitting, or crocheting, or at least doing something that mothers are supposed to do. In the event, she was watching television, dinner was cooked and waiting, and he was able to enjoy a normal meal with a normal mother and, to his great relief, put the previous night behind him as a one-off aberration. He was even able smile to himself in slight admiration of his sexy mother, the mother who played with herself.

After a couple of days life settled down, he and Debbie - to whom he had said nothing - became used to having a third person about the house, while for her part his mother quietly fitted herself around their lifestyle. There had never been a finite time put on his mother's stay and it didn't look as though one would ever be needed. Then one night, as he and Debbie lay in each others arms, enjoying a post coital cuddle, they became aware of little gasps and whimpers coming from the spare room. Gasps and whimpers that rapidly built into the stifled but unmistakable sounds of an intense female orgasm. They looked at each other, smiles breaking out on their faces as they realised they were listening to a motherly climax.

"Oh well, I guess that's our fault." Debbie smiled at her husband. "We must have woken her up when we were doing it and set her off."

"I don't think she needs much 'setting off' from what I've seen." Darren briefly told Debbie what he had witnessed that first night.

"The randy sod, her!" Debbie giggled. "I bet it gave you a shock."

"You bet right, it's not something you expect to see, is it?"

"I would think you enjoyed it on the quiet though, didn't you?"

"I think I was far too embarrassed to enjoy it. After all, it's my mother we're talking about, not some randy teenager."

"Well, Jenny is on her own now, so she must get frustrated, especially if she has to listen to us at it." Debbie nodded her head in the general direction of a now silent spare room. She had always called her mother-in-law by name, not feeling comfortable with 'Mother', 'Mum' or 'Ma'.

"I just wish she wouldn't." Darren looked at Debbie. "Yes, I know she must have needs, Debs, but it's embarrassing lying here with you, listening to my mother wanking."

"Would it bother you if I wasn't here?"

"Not as much, I suppose." He conceded "But it's still not nice."

"Go on, I bet you'd listen to her and wank yourself silly."

Darren coloured up, as much from the image that was by the thought generated as from the realisation that it was probably true.

"See! I knew it." Debbie was grinning hugely at his blushes.

"I don't think so." He retorted crossly before rolling on his side in retreat from a conversation he was obviously losing.

Sleep was again elusive and his thoughts embarrassing, but eventually morning arrived and he staggered sleepily to the shower, only to be met by his bright and cheerful mother returning to her room dressed only in a rather flimsy nightdress.

"Hello darling." His mother presented her cheek to be kissed.

"Morning Mother." He brusquely touched his lips to her face, noticing as he did so how prominent her nipples were against the thin material. Why couldn't she wear flannelette like mothers are supposed to?

Again that day he couldn't stop thinking about his mother. He couldn't stop wondering why she was suddenly so bloody sexy; he couldn't remember her being that upfront when his father was there. And why was he suddenly noticing, it wasn't healthy for a man to be looking at his mothers nipples through her nightdress, or to be listening to her orgasm from her own hand for that matter. The whole thing was beginning to bother him greatly and he was beginning to regret having her stay. Her presence seemed likely to inhibit his own usually active and experimental sex life, as well as giving him moments of pure embarrassment, but Debbie didn't understand and certainly didn't seem as bothered as he was. But then she wasn't the one with a sexy mother frigging herself in the next room.

That night he arrived home he saw the light on in his mother's bedroom. Here we go again, he said to himself, before parking the car and letting himself into the house as quietly as possible. It was, he told himself, so that he could find out if anything was happening and discreetly withdraw to return later if there was. 'Yeah', said the devil on his shoulder, 'and the Pope's an atheist.'

Darren stood silently in the hall, hardly breathing and straining his ears for the slightest sound. But he could hear nothing, not the faintest murmur and definitely not the moans of a woman in heat. After a minute or so he quietly slipped off his boots and tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs, still listening intently. Again, nothing to be heard, except maybe, just maybe, the soft sound of regular breathing. Darren relaxed, this time his mother really was resting.

He hung up his jacket and began, very quietly, to mount the stairs, convinced that his mother was asleep and if she only stayed that way he could shower in peace. That illusion was shattered, if it ever really existed, by about the fourth step when a deep sigh and a slight gasp revealed that she was far from asleep, and was in fact active once more. Even so, because he had no reason to believe she was aware of his presence he continued to climb, reasoning, somewhat illogically, that by the time she heard the shower she would be finished and it wouldn't matter. She wouldn't have left the bedroom door ajar again, would she?

The straight answer to that was, yes she would, and why wouldn't she, Darren thought belatedly, if she's on her own in the house? In fact the door was slightly wider open than last time and for all his vows and assertions to the contrary, he couldn't prevent his eyes pivoting as he came level.

This time he was ready for what he might see, and this time he didn't make a bolt for the bathroom. In fact he stood just outside the bedroom door and mutely watched his mother at play. She lay on her back, one hand holding a breast and the other between her legs. Her head was back and her eyes were closed in obvious ecstasy as she kneaded her breast and strummed rapidly at her clit. Darren stood transfixed, ashamed of himself for spying, yet unable to take his eyes from the extremely sexy vision in front of him.

She was clearly not far from her climax, her bottom was lifting slightly from the bed, her head was rolling a little from side to side and her free hand was grasping urgently at the bedding. Then, even as Darren watched she began making the tiny whimpers that he had heard before and her pelvis started jerking against her hand, the jerks getting more vigorous and her cries louder as her orgasm got nearer. Darren knew he should go and leave her in peace. Even if it were some unrelated female it was wrong to peep, but this was his mother, his own mother, that he was watching. But his conscience fought a losing battle with his libido and he stared open mouthed and with his heart pounding, as she got closer and closer to orgasm.

When it came her orgasm was extremely powerful. Darren could see her face redden and the chords of her neck begin to stand out. Then her pelvis lifted from the bed and she remained arched, her hips and pelvis still making jerky movements against her flying fingers and her lips emitting strangled little squeaks and groans. Then she came and her bottom bounced on the bed, her head flew back and she cried out loud, an unrepressed cry of pure pleasure that must have echoed all around the house, before she slumped back on the bed, panting and shivering.

The spell broken Darren quickly withdrew, noiselessly making his way down the stairs and returning to the hall, discovering as he went that he was sporting a massive and very inconvenient hard-on. Once downstairs he adjusted the offending erection and quietly let himself out of the house before turning and unlocking the door once more.

"Hi Ma. You in?"

"Hi Darren. Yes I'm upstairs; I'll be down in a minute."

"No rush, I'll just take a shower."

The deception complete and his conscience cleared Darren went through the normal 'I'm home' tasks and then headed for the shower, seeing the spare room door firmly closed again as he passed.

His shower was one filled with confusions and mixed emotions. His erection, now released from captivity, immediately sprang fully to attention and he soaped it with a mix of pleasure and shame in equal parts. He was simply unable to dispel the vision of a mature but extremely attractive woman masturbating so wantonly and his erection would need attention.

He towelled himself dry as quickly as he could and headed for his own bedroom, making absolutely certain that the door was properly closed before dropping the bathrobe from his shoulders and lying naked on the bed.

Even though his view of his mother through the door had been from the side he now visualised her as if he was standing before her open legs and looking directly at her wet and swollen pussy. He groaned silently at this erotic image and his hand went around his shaft. He couldn't understand why the sight of his mother, who was a middle aged woman after all, had made him so damn horny. Maybe it was simply that normally she was out of reach, taboo, untouchable. He groaned again at the idea of her not being quite so untouchable, his face burning from the shame of such thoughts

Darren closed his eyes and began to gently wank, cupping his balls in one hand while running is fingers lightly along his shaft with the other, all the time keeping the image of his mother in the throes of orgasm before his eyes. He could visualise her pussy so clearly, he could see her clitoris in his minds eye, erect and rigid, her labia swollen and open, and most of all her vagina, slick and gaping, waiting to be entered. His mind was a tumult of emotions, he was reacting to a sexually stimulating sight but feeling the humiliation of desire for forbidden fruit, the combination reinforcing his need to masturbate. Before long he was gripping his cock hard and wanking fast and furious, holding onto his sac and rolling his balls at the same time. He could feel his balls filling with cum ready to ejaculate and his cock becoming even harder as his climax came closer. He prayed she wouldn't hear him cum.

The click of the door opening was soft, as if intended not to be heard, but to Darren, listening intently for any sign of his activity being detected, it was loud and unmistakeable. His hand stopped in mid stroke and his eyes shot open. There in front of him, her hand still on the half opened door, stood his mother, just as naked as he was. He froze, unable to think what to do, his face flaring again in humiliation, his hands still wrapped around his genitals.

"Don't stop." She kept looking at him as she came a little further into the room and closed the door behind her. "I didn't."

It took a few seconds for his already confused and beleaguered mind to take in the implications of that last remark, but when it did he felt complete mortification, knowing that he had failed to cover his illicit peeping. Oh God, she had seen him watching her.

"It made me cum even better than usual." She was advancing slowly across the bedroom as she spoke.

My God, she had wanted him to see her, the door was open deliberately. The realisation hit him like a brick. So then, it didn't matter, it was alright if she let him watch her. But that didn't alter the fact of who she was, did it? Confused contradictory thoughts chased themselves through his brain, and all the time he lay rigid on the bed, his hands still covering a now softening penis.

"Now I want to watch you cum." She sat on the edge of the bed alongside him.

He lay gazing mutely at his mother sitting beside him. She really was a very attractive mature woman. Her breasts were full and, although no longer as pert as perhaps they used to be, they were not at all saggy, her very prominent nipples set in dark brown aureoles pointed aggressively forwards rather than dejectedly downward. He had seen her stomach as she had walked towards him, full and ripe without being fat, and now that she sat it showed no sign of her age, no sags, no wrinkles, no rolls of fat. Even her legs were firm and strong. She was certainly a looker, and in different circumstances... No! He stopped his train of thought in its tracks as soon as he realised where it was heading, and that his cock was responding, jerking slowly back to life.

"Let me help you."

He heard his mother's voice and watched her reach out towards him, but he didn't, couldn't, react. Even when he felt her lift his own hand away from his cock and lay it on his stomach he just submissively accepted her actions. It was as if his passivity excused her intervention. Her hand closed around his shaft and she began to wank him.

"God, your cock feels good! Isn't that nice?" He nodded his reply, still unable to react otherwise.

He was getting close to cumming before she had entered the room, and the excitement of such a forbidden touch soon had him close again. The hand on his cock was expert, fondling his head, stroking his glans as well as pistoning up and down his shaft, and it felt so good. He could feel his cock getting even harder and his balls begin to tighten, and he knew it would not be long.

"That's it dear, let it happen."

His impending climax was obvious to both of them; he was now making involuntary thrusts with his hips, pushing his cock back into his mother's hand, and his hands were clenched into white knuckled balls. He kept his eyes tight shut too, but this was to allow his mind to deny that the naked woman playing so proficiently with his cock was his own mother. He knew it, and he liked it, but his mind rebelled against it.

Suddenly he came, groaning deeply, his cock shooting gouts of cum into the air to fall back and splatter his belly and chest. His eyes came open of their own accord as he came and he gazed guiltily straight into the eyes of his smiling mother. Now there was no denying what was happening, he had fantasized of having sex with his mother and she had turned the fantasy into a kind of reality with her hand. Still pumping his spunk into the air he smiled back at her, an unspoken thank you.

The last two or three spurts of cum weren't as strong and just welled from the end of his cock, overflowing down the head and over the enveloping fingers. Darren watched it run with mounting embarrassment, as if covering her fingers with cum was an even greater sin than allowing her to wank him. But she was unperturbed and as soon as his balls were empty and the flow had stopped she took her hand from his cock and delicately licked her fingers, her eyes closing momentarily as she absorbed the taste.

"That was fabulous, and you taste good too." She looked down at him and smiled. "Now, so that you know, if my bedroom door is open, you are welcome to enter."

She bent forward and planted a quick kiss on his lips and then, without a word or a backward glance, she rose and went out of the bedroom.

Darren lay on his bed without stirring, letting his mind try and cope with what had happened, and to try and get the image out of his brain of her beautiful backside swaying through the door. His mother had initiated the action and made it clear that she would like a repeat, but how far did she want things to go, and how far was he prepared to let them? He had no answer to either question. Besides that, not only did he find her attractive as a woman, but the fact that any intimate contact between them was prohibited only made it more enticing.