Well the "new" photo came up quickly, for Lit that is. I hope you like the studious Sammi look. I'll have to select the next one soon, any suggestions?
I hope you are all still enjoying me and thanks for the feedback, most of which is gratefully received. I try to reply to all and as quickly as possible. I've made some good friends through the feedback and have found corresponding with them a real pleasure, well mostly.
If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. In most parts, and particularly in this one where DD features strongly, I refer back to what has happened in previous parts, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.
Nevertheless, whatever way you do read them, I hope you enjoy them and get as great amount of pleasure from reading them as I do from writing them for you, well and me. Please feel free to leave whatever comments you wish or e-mail me if you prefer.
My bio, Part 15
A night with DD and bucket loads of anticipation about mum.
Chapter 1
Mum was sitting on the patio in the sun when I got home from DD's. She was wearing one of those men's type vests that have thin shoulder straps and a scooped front with a hem that reaches just beneath the waist, and bikini panties. She had been swimming and her long, usually wavy, chestnut coloured hair was hanging down straight framing her beautiful face and falling onto her bare, nicely tanned shoulders.
I couldn't see if the bikini panties were wet so I didn't know if she had been swimming naked, as she often did. I could see most clearly, though, that she was not wearing a bra, so I knew she would have been swimming topless, as she almost always does.
She looked fantastic, even with no make up.
"Was it a good shoot?" She asked, for she now knew I was doing glamour photographic modelling.
A couple of months ago, one of her friends, a professional photographer, had seen my entry in a studio's online portfolio of models. He had asked mum about it and downloaded the four or five shots and sent them to her. She had confronted me one evening. I naturally lied, but when she said for me to look at the shots on her PC, I had nowhere to go. So, I owned up to it and told her all about it, well not all, not about the extras, of course. She had been surprisingly cool about her twenty-year-old daughter stripping off to her undies and more and posing for photographers, but then my mum was always relaxed about most aspects of sex.
When I'd been looking at her PC, I had poked around a bit and had been amazed to find a file containing some tastefully erotic shots of her. "No wonder", I had thought, "she was so cool about me doing it!" I hadn't mentioned it to her, but that evening when I masturbated, it was those photos that were uppermost in my mind.
I had had similar sexual feelings about her for some months now. They started that day when I arrived home unannounced and walked into the small gym behind the garage. I saw her and her personal trainer kneeling on a mat. His tracky trousers were round his knees, the top of her leotard was round her waist. She was holding his erect cock; he was cupping her bare breasts. It looked as though she was just about to take him into her mouth, or slide his erection between her lovely tits.
Since then my feelings about her had become so muddled and confused.
When I had been in Spain with her there was a wet and cold day. I had gone to her room and she had said. "Come on let's cuddle up in bed and watch TV." A simple motherly gesture to her, but to me a suggestion that was full of sexually provocative undertones. We didn't cuddle up, but we did lay there for a couple of hours our legs often touching. I was trembling with excitement the whole time.
There had been several other occasions when I was with her and suddenly a rush of sexual want flooded through me. I didn't understand it and I found it hard to control. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, feel her body against mine. I wanted to make love to my own mother.
I knew I was bi. I found that out during the year and a half I spent at university. I found it out with Stephanie Gordon, an immensely clever economics student, a beautiful looking tall woman three years older than me. We had a fling all the time I was there.
Despite knowing and being comfortable about being bi, but then most girls my age mess around with other females now and then don't they, it was not that easy to accept that those feelings extended to my mother. However, after experiencing them, with increasing intensity for the best part of a year now, I had to accept that they existed and desperately sought ways to handle them. So far, I had succeeded, but I had doubts as to how long I could control myself.
Mum, you see, had me when she was nineteen. She is only just forty, but could easily pass for early thirties, particularly in a nice light. Several times, we have been mistaken for sisters, oddly by guys like pool attendants or men in bars!
She is stunning looking with a more rounded body and figure than mine and lustrous, long chestnut hair. She has fuller lips and bigger eyes than I do and other than our noses and chins, we do not look muck like each other. I sometimes wonder if I am really hers, for even in temperament, attitudes and approach we are not alike. Her most striking feature, among many, is her breasts. They simply are awesome and are still firm and pert despite both my brother and me having suckled them when young. Actually, the word that always comes to my mind when I see them, as I could now underneath the thin vest, is luscious. They are full and round, firm yet wobbly as they should be and are capped with deep pink, quite large nipples with nicely sized centres, even when uncrossed.
"Yes it was fine thanks," I replied, pouring myself a glass of wine.
"And did you have a good time at Bec's?" she asked mentioning the friend I had used as the excuse for not coming all night.
"Yes it was good to see her after all this time", I lied.
There probably wasn't all that need to tell porkys about spending the night with a guy, for mum really was cool about my sex life. I did not think she was quite ready yet, though, to learn that her daughter was sleeping with a guy that was older than she was, and on top of that, if she met DD, he'd probably fall for her!
"Have you had a nice morning?"
"Ok, I've done my laps, did some exercises and had my daily row with your father."
"Was it bad?"
"Pretty bad, the bastard really is getting mean, but then he usually does when he's trying to fund a new project."
Mum and dad had recently "officially" parted. It was probably the fourth time. This time, though, did look to be a little more permanent, for he had moved to Spain where he was trying to get a huge building development project underway. He had left mum with the house and two cars, the MINI Cooper S, she and I shared, and the Porsche Cayenne 4 x 4 which I hated. He was paying the household bills but not her credit cards. This meant she was not able to indulge her habit, feed her craving or satisfy her tremendous need ........ for shopping that is! Thus, the number of Jimmy Choo, Fendi, Gucci and Louis Vuiton bags had dwindled to a mere trickle making her as mad as hell.
It was also, why I now lived with her in the large six bedroom rambling house in the suburbs of Essex, just outside London. I had been living in a flat dad owned in trendy Islington, but that had gone by the board, so now I had a daily commute into London to get to college, and what a fucking drag that was, I hated it.
"How's it going?" I asked, pretending not to look but ogling like hell as she leaned forward to pick up the wine bottle, which I noticed was as good as empty. I glanced at my watch and saw that it wasn't yet noon.
"He's being so bloody-minded and I do think it really is over this time", she went on answering a different question to what I asked for I meant with the project.
