Sheila, my mother, is a very large lady. Big, blonde and beautiful would, I guess, be a good description of her, and her willingness to pull down her pants for her horny son makes her very special in my eyes. Though not being blessed with the biggest of cocks, I nevertheless have no difficulty giving her the pleasure she desires. Fucking a plump, middle-aged matron, especially one's mother, offers delights one does not encounter with thinner women and my ejaculations reach the very pinnacle of sexual pleasure. I have never yet disappointed her nor she me.
I'm not, as I have said, particularly well hung (about six inches), but what I have is like a fat sausage, and Sheila adores it. I have often expressed to her the wish that I was bigger, but she merely smiles, and assures me, "I'm content with what you've got Love. You're lovely and fat, and hard, and my happiest moments are those when you're looking after me."
"But you would enjoy it more if I could raise nine or ten inches?"
"Maybe. But you're just my size. I love to feel you up me, and when you come in me..." her eyes assumed a dreamy, faraway look. "I'm in paradise. Maybe I'm kinky, but I adore the feel of my son's come squirting in me. "
She is not the only woman in my life, for I have also enjoyed two or three affairs; all with married women, but she is constant and ever ready to part her legs for me. I must also confess that though I am fully aware of the immorality of our amours, I could not resist her ample charms even if I wanted to.
But I digress...the object of this little tale is to acquaint you with the unforeseen circumstances that led to the intimate and erotic relationship Mother and I share.
I was about twenty at the time, and she and my father had not long before divorced. I detested my father, but got on pretty well with Sheila, and so I elected to stay on with her - a decision I have never regretted.
I have always been keen on sailing, and not long before the events I am about to relate I purchased a small boat - a small sailing dinghy. At first Mother refused to come out with me. She was afraid, she said, of becoming seasick, but I persisted with my invitations, and finally she gave in.
The day we chose turned out to be ideal for sailing: sunny, with just enough breeze to fill the sail and send the little craft skimming across the water. She soon discovered that she had nothing to fear and was enjoying herself as much as I, but we had only been out for an hour or so, when she suddenly said, "Richard. I have to have a pee."
"You should have had one before we came out," I responded a little tersely, thinking of how long it would take me to tack back to the shore.
"I didn't need one then."
"Then you'll have to wait until we get back to shore," I said irritably.
"No. I can't. If I don't go in the next few minutes I'll pee in my pants."
"Well you'll have to piss into the bottom of the boat," I retorted, my exasperation subsiding, and flashing her a disarming smile.
"I couldn't do that," she argued.
"Why not? it's the only place you have. You have nothing you can dangle over the side like me."
"Don't be vulgar. Anyway, it wouldn't be hygienic."
"It'll smell sweeter than the water slopping around in the bilge right now." This time I did grin.
She stared at me for a moment, her need obviously more urgent than I'd imagined, and said, "You mustn't look." then heaving her plump buttocks off the thwart, she lifted her skirt, eased her pants down over her knees, and parting her thighs began pissing over the duckboards at her feet. "This is most embarrassing, and indecent," she complained, "and you shouldn't be watching."
"I have to see where I'm sailing," I explained, pretending to look over her shoulder, but covertly stealing occasional glances at her luxuriant pussy, and the sparkling stream gushing from between her ample thighs. She is a well endowed woman, and I found the sight of her generous box and its halo of lush blonde fur most pleasing to behold.
"There. That was painless, wasn't it?" I inquired with mock sarcasm, when she'd finished and reached down to pull up her pants.
"It was embarrassing," she persisted, "And I told you that you shouldn't be watching. You're not supposed to see your mother's pussy."
"What makes you think that yours is special?" I enquired blandly. "I've seen one or two in my time, and yours is no different from them."
She glared at me, and I dismissed the incident while I swung the boat onto the starboard tack so that we wouldn't get too far from shore. Glancing to port I saw a sudden ruffling of the sea's surface some quarter-of-a-mile away, and realised what was about to happen. "Quick! Put on your flotation jacket! There's a squall coming."
"I don't see anything," she declared, but had the good sense to take my advice, reaching for her jacket as I tried desperately to reef the sail.
I was too late, and a moment later the wind had us, laying us over to starboard, and blowing out the sail. "Fucking hell!" I swore, momentarily forgetting Mother's presence as I tried to get the boat under control again. It however righted itself , but began to wallow.
Under normal conditions Mother would have become quite irate at my choice of language, but this sudden event had scared her, and she sat quietly as I rigged a spare, but smaller sail to again give us steerage way. All this while the wind showed little sign of abating, and pushed us northward parallel, but dangerously close to the cliffs.
I finally got the spare sail rigged, and decided to head for a small sandy cove about a mile distant. Though the tide was in there would still be a beach where we could wait in safety until the blow was over.
"Tuck your skirt inside your pants, and leave your shoes in the boat," I ordered her. "We'll have to wade ashore." I expected some contrary response from her, but she did as she was bid, and a few minutes later we grounded. I flung the anchor as far as I could up the beach to hold the boat secure, and we waded the few yards to dry land. Mother, with her dress tucked up, I had to admit, showed a fine pair of shapely legs. "You've got a nice pair of legs," I said with a smile. "It's a pity I don't get to see them more often."
I expected another expression of disapproval, but instead she replied with obvious pleasure, "Thankyou Love." I had at last found a chink in her armour. She was proud of her legs.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked apprehensively, pulling her skirt out of her pants and letting it fall back into place.
"Sit it out," I replied. "It should be over in an hour or so."
I was proven wrong, however, and it kept on blowing steadily until sunset. We would have to spend the night here. I told her to gather as much dry driftwood as she could find and take it up to a small cave at the foot of the cliff, while I retrieved from the boat my sleeping bag, some canned food, and other gear I thought we might need.
Her gathering had been more successful than I had hoped and, as darkness fell, I got a roaring fire going. "You can have the sleeping bag, and I'll wrap myself up in the torn sail," I said as we alternately spooned hot casserole from a can. "We'll get off at high tide in the morning."
I always carry a small flask of brandy in my emergency pack, and after we had eaten we shared it, each taking a sip in turn until we had emptied it.
She took it all very well, and we chatted and smoked for a while in the fire's warmth but, as we would have to make an early start in the morning we turned in early. Despite the fire it turned out colder than I had expected, and when after an hour or so Mother said, "I think there might be room for both of us in here, and it would be warmer for you. Would you like to try?" I needed no further coaxing.
"I'll have to have another pee first," she said, crawling out. This time there was no false modesty. She raised her skirt, pulled down her pants, and squatting nearby, began pissing onto the sand.
"I think I'll join you," I said, and pulled out my cock.
She studied it, I thought, with more than casual interest as I followed her example, and when she got to her feet she unhurriedly pulled up her pants without seeming to care that she was momentarily displaying her greatest asset for my openly frank appreciation. "How come you didn't mind showing me your pussy this time," I teased her.
"You already had an eyeful out in the boat," she chuckled, "so you're not seeing anything new."
"Would you be shocked if I told you that you have a truly gorgeous box?" I asked boldly.
"Surprised maybe, but not shocked,' she responded candidly, and then smiled. "I would also be highly flattered."
She waited until I had shaken the last droplets from the end of my cock before slipping back into the sleeping bag, and after throwing more wood onto the fire I followed her. It was a tighter squeeze than I anticipated, but with some wriggling and squirming we made it. I was glad we had done so, for she was lovely and warm, and I quickly became acutely aware of the generous contours of her matronly body.
She giggled. "All this is rather naughty."
"What do you mean?" I asked casually.
"Getting into bed with my son," she replied with a grin.
"Would you like a cigarette before we go to sleep?" I asked, and when she replied that she would, I reached into my pocket to get them. In doing so my hand brushed her thigh, and when I tried to open the packet I brushed a plump breast. This was the last straw and I felt my cock stir.
"Richard!" she exclaimed with obvious surprise when John Thomas raised himself to a standing position. "You are naughty."
"I'm sorry Mother," I apologised, feeling my cheeks flush. "It just sort of happened. I'd better go back to my sail."
"No you won't. You'll stay here," she declared firmly, as I lit our cigarettes hoping desperately that it would take my mind off my awkward condition. "I think I like you being horny for me."
