It was a rather cool Sunday for mid-June, and the rain was falling gently but steadily outside. I was lying on the narrow bed in my tiny room, with the window open beside me. This was an odd little room, never intended as a bedroom. When we had first moved into the house several years before, I had noted this room and wanted it for mine. It actually was just a large walk-in closet, but it had a square window, which opened on hinges and was protected by the overhanging roof on the east side of the house. Finally I had persuaded my parents to let me sleep there in a single bed which was just right for the tight space. I used to spend a lot of time there, reading, doing my homework and-yes, I might as well admit it-masturbating.
I had just turned senior a few weeks before, and my junior year in high school had just ended. I was still a virgin, a shy bookish sort of kid, not bad looking and fairly popular. I was not a nerd, and nobody ever called me that or treated me that way. But I was too bashful to have dated much at all. I was horny as hell most of the time, and the only means I had for assuaging the itch was to jack off, which I had been doing a lot for a long time. I had quite a strong imagination, which allowed me to create elaborate fantasies of sexual delight.
I was fairly promiscuous in my choice of fantasy subjects—everyone from movie stars to classmates. But I tended to favor older women, even some of my teachers-and especially my big beautiful mom. In fact, about two thirds of the time, my orgasmic load of cum would be in honor of mom.
I called her my "beautiful" mom, but I suppose I'd better qualify that. She wasn't exactly a classic beauty, not the kind that would make a person immediately exclaims, "What a beauty!" But to me she was (and still is) the most desirable woman in the world. At this time she was 40, and she was decidedly on the plump side, about 145 pounds on a five foot six frame. But God, she was curvy and sexy, with good-sized (not huge), long full legs, broad hips, and a perky outthrust ass. I had noticed how some other men looked at her, so it wasn't just my idea that she was sexy. She had dark brown hair, with a few strands of gray in it, and deep dark brown eyes, a classic sort of face with a short, straight nose, and full lips. Her complexion was clear and beautiful, a delectable peachy tan. I loved to look at her.
On this quiet rainy day, I had just finished reading a book and was lying there in just my undershorts. Since it was a bit cool, I had a sheet over me. I was about ready for a nap, but my thoughts strayed to mom, and m cock began to stir. I stroked it a few times, beginning to concoct yet another scenario in which I could fuck my mother.
Just then I heard a sound in the next room. I could tell from the sound of the footsteps that it was the object of my nascent fantasy, my mom. She came on through her bedroom and tapped lightly at my door. "Yeah, mom?" I responded.
She opened the door and looked in. "What are you doing?" she asked. Well, I could have said, "I'm just starting to think up a story about fucking the hell out of your pussy while I beat my meat." But naturally I did not say that. What I did say was, "Just lying here listening to the rain."
"That sounds a lot more interesting than what I'm doing. Everyone else is gone for the afternoon, and I'm feeling sort of sad and lonely." She paused a moment and then asked, "Would you mind if I joined you?"
Huh? Joined me how? But what the hell! I didn't care how. "Uh-sure, mom," I managed to say.
She took the two steps necessary to reach my bed and paused there uncertainly. "Do you think there's room for both of us?" she said.
Oh, God! "Oh-uh-sure, mom. I'll make room." My bed was right against the wall under the window. I scooted over until I was lying tightly against the wall and turned back the sheet. Mom sat down on the edge of the bed, then lay back and swung her legs up. She lay with her back to me and pulled the sheet across her body. "My, this is a cozy fit, isn't it?" she laughed. "Have you got enough room?"
Well, I didn't have enough room, and I rapidly needed more room for my stiffening cock. I pressed myself hard against the wall, and still I was right against my mom's big soft body, spoon fashion, Her big ass actually touching the tip of my prick in spite of all I could do. "Sh-sure, mom, I-I'm OK," I mumbled.
We lay there silently for several minutes. mom seemed to be relaxed, but I was stiff as a board, my heart racing, and my cock on the verge of throbbing and jerking against her. God, she surely must be able to feel it. What would she think? Would she be disgusted and get up and leave?
Finally mom said softly, "This is nice. The rain sounds so gentle, almost like a lullaby." "Uh-yeah," I muttered eloquently. I had even forgotten that it was raining. Some lullaby, with my mom's sexy body right against mine in the same bed! God, how many times had I imagined a scene like this? Now here it was, and I was petrified.
"It's been a long time since you and I were in bed together," mom said. "Not since you were just a little guy." "Yeah, mom, "I remarked. "I remember when I was eleven years old and I read that scary story and couldn't sleep. You came and lay down with me until I could go to sleep." Ah, yes, I remembered that incident very well. It was during the beginnings of my sexual awakening, and the feel of my mom's big soft ass against me on that earlier occasion had stimulated feelings that had quickly erased the dread images brought on by the story.
"Oh, yes, I had forgotten that," mom said. We lay silent for several more minutes. I was relaxing a little bit, but my cock was still as hard as a steel bar, and it insisted on twitching from time to time, and damn it, I just couldn't keep it away from contact with mom's ass. If she didn't feel it, there was something wrong with her nervous system. I was expecting any second that she would get embarrassed and leave me alone, probably never to return to my bed. I just couldn't believe that she might be pleased to realize that she was having an erotic effect upon her little boy.
I had my hand upon mom's upper arm, and all at once I noticed that I was starting to rub up and down her arm. I stopped abruptly. But then mom slowly moved her hand back and laid it on my bare thigh. She gently squeezed. Oh, my God! This scene is so firmly etched in my memory that the following conversation is almost exactly, word for word, what we said on that epochal afternoon in my young life.
"Honey," she said softly, "I haven't really told you for a while how proud I am of you-of how well you're doing in school. And of what a very nice young man you've become."
"Oh, gee, mom! Thanks." "And I guess I haven't told you for a long time how much I love you. I do love you-very, very much."
Now I was really rubbing her arm, and she was rubbing my thigh. "And I love you, mom,"I blurted. "You're the best mom a guy could ever have." mom laughed. "Oh, wow! Thanks honey." After a few moments of silent caressing, she asked softly, "Are you sure that you're not a little ashamed of your old fat mother?"
"God, no!" I insisted. "You're not fat. I like the way you look. I think you look great." "Well, that's good to hear." After a few moments, she went on, "But I'll bet you'll find a much prettier woman to marry someday." I hugged mom and said, "No way, mom. I would want any woman I married to look just as much like you as possible." I now began gently stroking the front of her body, just below her boobs.
"You mean like the song: 'I want a girl just like the girl that married dear old Dad'?"
"Yes mom. Exactly like that." Mom sort of giggled. "Well, that's awfully sweet of you, honey. But I know you're just saying that to make me feel good." "Aw, mom, that's not true. In fact, if you weren't my mom and weren't married, I'd want to marry you." Again mom giggled. "Ooh!...Of course, you mean if we were the same age."
My caressing had touched the bottoms of mom's boobs now, and I was really warming up. "No mom. I mean that if you were not my mom, and we were the ages that we actually are, I would want to marry you right now-if I had the means to support you, of course."
"Oh, my goodness, honey!" mom laughed. Her hand had just brushed against my balls, and my cock jerked sharply against her ass. Then she said in a teasing tone, "Now would you really want to marry me or just..." She broke off, laughing.
"Just what, mom?"
"Oh, you know-just have-er-just do...what married people do, shall we say?"
I knew what she meant all right, but I was loving this teasing conversation. "Uh-what do you mean, mom?" I asked, playing dumb. My hand was now on one of her full, soft breasts, and she did not stop me.
"You know what I mean," she said, giggling again. "Marital relations."
"Oh, do you mean-uh-sex, by any chance, mom?"
"Bingo!" mom giggled. She waited awhile and then said, "But you didn't answer my question."
"What question?" I knew perfectly well what the question had been, but I wanted to keep her talking.