This is a teasing (and to some of you even boring) story that takes a while to get interesting... but despite this being fiction it might be hard to describe and explain the passage of events without writing all the things that preceded it, so please bear with me...
Also, don't expect page after page of fucking; this is more of a saga than a fuck-fest!
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I have to be honest and say that I've started off with a lie for which I apologise.
Moving Day sounds so much better than "Moving Week" or "Moving Day and the Weeks that Followed" -- so that's the title of how I've chosen to describe a whole string of events because it was Moving Day that was the catalyst for everything that followed.
The person most affected by the move was my dear mother; a sprightly female of some forty or so years. (You don't go telling everyone a woman's age, do you?) However, what I can say without actually stating her age is that she was 22 when I was born and since I'm now 24 you can do the calculations, can't you?
My mother is Susan or Sue and I'm Chris, as you well know. Dad is now out of the picture because of his indiscretions and the divorce that followed so I won't bother with him. I'm an only child; a fact that I'm happy enough about even though it might have been nice to have a brother or sister. However, with the way things have turned out, the lack of a sibling is all to the good... Sharing is fine, but sometimes it's nice to keep things for yourself!
To me, Mum is gorgeous -- well, aren't a whole lot of mothers? Obviously from my mother comes me and I guess that I was just dead lucky to be born to a winner in the gene stakes because I'm not entirely a mess either. She's a 5' 4" pack of dynamite; a real live-wire character full of fight, but equally full of love. Mum often used to remind me of Sally Field, especially when she was in her Smokey and the Bandit role -- a pretty pixie-like face surrounded by loads of bouncy auburn wavy hair. Mum used to be very nicely stacked too -- well, she still is, to be honest -- topping out with a 36C bust; a trim waistline and, not that I'm an arse man, a cute curvy behind that would sway in such an eye-catching way.
Speaking of my preferences and being blunt, its generous tits that top my desires followed by a nice tidy vagina although of course, I don't let my lack of interest in other attributes spoil my pleasures.
Anyway, getting down to the story, Dad used to be a successful man working in his government office up in London and as a result Mum and Dad had what seemed to me to be a massive house down here in the countryside that befitted his status I guess. Mum used to love working in the garden, turning it into a thing of beauty. It was full of decorative trees and shrubs; sweeping lawns and borders that in summer were a mass of blooms. Dad even hired a gardener to help Mum because although she did all the planning and much of the planting, it was too much to ask her to mow all the grass and keep everything trimmed as well -- but she did well.
As I grew up I was the envy of many other kids but to me it was all just 'normal' and I was often pleased to get away from my fathers' restrictions by mixing joyously with the other kids from the village. That irked Dad, of course, but Mum would side with me, insisting that I needed to see life from both sides. Perhaps it was that kind of difference that eventually split my parents apart -- well, that and his 'tarts' -- who knows. Whatever caused the split, Mum was left with the house and a load of stocks and shares which provided her with a fairly generous income along with the responsibility of bring me up and even if I have to blow my own trumpet I'll say that Mum did a pretty decent job.
Oh me? Well, I'm just on six feet tall and weigh a whisker over 12 stone -- that's around 170 pounds so I'm relatively trim really. I have light brown hair, nice straight teeth and a well-formed slightly oval face. I love smiling -- I've always been a happy kind of guy who lets the worries of the world slip by without letting them upset me.
Whatever, I finished my education with a little-above-average college degree and then quickly found myself a desk job with a local business. It wasn't much but I worked hard, encouraged by Mum and before long I was able to climb the ladder so that by the time I was 23 I was already a Department Manager and was able to set up home on my own. Naturally the little place that I bought was a big climb-down from my parent's house but it was 'my' home wherein I could do what I wanted to do. Of course, that included bringing the girls home and it wasn't long before I was practicing the art of loving on a whole range of females and it didn't take me long to realise was that every girl that I bedded resembled my mother to some small degree. It was about then that Dad was removed from the picture, by the way.
Of course, at that time I wasn't 'into' incest and hardly knew anything about it to be honest but nevertheless I noticed that I'd begun to see my mother as my ideal woman. I guess as much as anything that was because she was the only 'steady' female in my life and of course, one looks up to their parents too but I really began to gently lust after her; to have masturbatory dreams of fucking her senseless. Nevertheless, they were merely that -- just dreams -- whereas in real life I never made any kind of advance on my darling mother nor ever expected anything in return.
Anyway, after I'd moved out I began to get phone calls -- and then more phone calls -- from my mother who'd quickly begun to feel lonely. Yes, we chatted normally but she also began complaining of the house being cold and empty without other people in it; that the massive gardens were a lot of work and that she had no-one to chatter with. I could entirely understand her feelings but the truth from my side was that I was now having too much fun bedding a whole assortment of girls from around town to worry unduly about her. Instead I simply suggested that she sell up and buy something smaller -- and that's exactly what she did.
It wasn't more than perhaps six months after I'd moved out that Mum phoned me one evening and she sounded different somehow; perhaps more determined than usual.
"I've decided to take your advice," she said firmly, "Much as I love this place it really is too big for me so I've put it on the market."
"Well done Mum," I agreed, "Makes sense to be honest -- I always felt that one day that place would become a burden rather than a pleasure."
"I know, this garden really is huge," she answered, her voice sounding a bit sad, "It already takes over my life to be honest."
"You don't need to be tied to your garden; you need to be able to relax and enjoy yourself sometimes," I added, "Oh, it's nice to have a big garden, but sometimes -- anyway, what are your plans?"
"I'm going to start looking on Monday," she said, "I know whereabouts I'd like to move to so it'll just depend on finding something I like."
"Wish you luck Mum," I commented, "Will you be ok searching on your own?"
"Oh, I should think so!" she laughed back, "I'll keep you informed."
Less than a week later Mum phoned again. Well, she'd already phoned with a flow of updates but this time I could hear that she was extra excited.
"I've found it!" she yelled happily, "It's gorgeous -- it's just where I wanted to be -- the views are stupendous -- the..."
"Hang on, you don't own it yet and you haven't found a buyer for yours yet," I advised her, "Don't take it for granted that you'll end up living there."
"Ohhh, I'm not darling," she continued, "But I do really want that place -- it looks so lovely."
"So what's it like then?" I asked, possibly looking for flaws that Mum hadn't spotted.
"Ohhh, it's nice -- big picture windows; patio doors; south facing; three bedrooms," she began, "And the garden is nowhere near so huge."
"Well, that's something," I answered, "Otherwise you're not downsizing a lot though."
"Why should I?" said Mum determinedly, "I don't want to get rid of all my lovely furniture. But don't be so downhearted! Everything will work out fine, you wait and see!"
And it did -- a few days later she phoned again to say that she'd had lots of interest in her home; that several families had already looked round and that the Estate Agent was very hopeful. A couple of days later came another call and this time I knew the story even before Mum told me. Her voice was so bright and bubbly and I felt thrilled for her.
"They've accepted my price!" she said, her words tumbling from her in her happiness, "And I've agreed to buy the new place and it's all go! It's all happening so quickly!"
"Brilliant stuff!" I answered, delighted for her, "I'll come on over for the weekend and we'll have a nice chat then."
"Yes please!" she said happily, "I've got so much to tell you!"
The next weekend I went and spent the whole weekend with her and we shared meals, drinks and good chatter just like old times. Mum was obviously absolutely full of exciting news and thoughts and since my life was utterly without thrills at the time, I let her rattle on and on to unload her mind. There were two big armchairs in the lounge but Mum and I sat side by side on the soft comfy sofa instead, our arms leaning gently together; our legs occasionally touching and it was cosy and nice.
Gradually the wine disappeared; then we started on a second bottle and even that was at least half empty before Mum hiccupped and laughed.
"Ooops, that's a bit too much, I think!" she said, her words slightly blurred, "I think I ought to stop."
Despite that she then drained her glass before putting it down. I didn't feel too bad at all so perhaps Mum had been drinking more than me.
"Look at the time anyway Mum," I said, "It's after midnight -- where's it all gone?"
"Goodness me, so it is," slurred Mum, "And now I think my bed is calling."
She stood up somewhat unsteadily so I rose too and grasped her arm to steady her. Mum obviously appreciated my help and company because she turned towards me and as she leaned against me she aimed a kiss at me. Now normally such kisses would be on my cheek but just at the moment that she stretched up so I turned my head and our lips met wetly and firmly.