Of what happened, I can confess that I didn't plan any of it. I let myself be dragged in by the whole idea, the concept and eventually after all the nervous moments of guilt, of questioning had passed, I came to relax and even become happy.
My name is Sam, I left University a year ago to work for a call centre dealing with Insurance claims. This is not the most exciting job in the world. And it was certainly not the route I had expected to take. My fair hair and pleasant face had got me so far with the girls at uni, I'd even maintained a steady relationship for a year. However, as I graduated all this slowly left me. I had a group of friends I could keep in contact with by e-mail and I moved back home.
Home. When I moved back it was the same place I had always known, just my mother and me. I'd never known my father, he'd left as soon as I was announced. Which on the whole was a pretty shitty thing to have done. My Mom survived with a lot of help from family and friends. Though we'd always lived to gether Mom had refused to give up on her independance, I'd known boyfriends come and go, but still we stuck together. Home was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, I really needed to move out on my own and get my act together, something I pointed out to Mom regularly put she didn't seem to pay much attention. She continued to work at the local college and she was always home when I got back from work.
I didn't get to go out much in the evenings. A lot of my friends from home had moved away and I had a crippling student debt that I wanted shot of. Thus I spent a lot of my time reading, watching TV and films or just in my room listening to music. I was becoming a little isolated, something my mother had recognised and she'd started to ask if I was alright. I always told her yes, but she knew that inside my head the escape plan was forming. One day, late September, the escape plan began to change.
It was an area meeting. Regional boss comes in assesses your performance. My colleagues and I were ushered into the meeting room and we all took seats at the table. At the head of it was an immaculetly turned out woman with tied back red hair and business suit. The suit comprised of a jacket and short skirt. I couldn't help myself, I immediately looked at her legs. They were long, graceful with a shine to them from her tights (possibly stockings, my mind was racing) all thought about getting assessed had gone out the window. As she read out her report the feeling in my cock grew and grew. I'd always sub-conciously looked at women's legs but while at Uni, I'd done my best to concentrate on their personalities, what they had to say - it meant getting further with a girl quicker. Yet, as I snatched quick glances at those wonderful legs, with her black sling-back heels on, I realised I'd awakened something in me. By the time we came to the comfort break I was rock solid. I couldn't have left that table if I tried! I needed to do something and fast.
The meeting had been some sort of delicious torture at every stage I wanted to run out of the room and wank myself off, but I couldn't stop staring at her legs. When the meeting had finished it was time to leave, I had a plan. Get off the bus, get to the newsagents and get a magazine, anything would do, then finish off in the privacy of my own room. As I travelled back I thought kneeling at those legs, looking up, running my tongue all along them, my hard-on refused to dissapate. I got off the bus and awkwardly managed to run down to the shop.
It was shut. It was bloody shut!
I almost screamed aloud, I was still frustrated and all there was left to do would be to go home. Mom was in the kitchen as I stumbled in. She asked the usual questions about my day, but I wasn't listening. I went straight upstairs, dumped my coat in my room and looked around. I need something and had dumped all my porno mags when I'd left Uni. Think, I told myself, think! There was a pile of women's magazines in Mom's room, there was bound to be something in there, a picture of a model, anything. Checking she was still downstairs, I moved across the landing to my Mom's room and went in. Next to the double bed was a pile of women's mags.I quickly rifled through the top couple looking for anything and picked up one with a promising article about stockings. In my rush I pulled it off the pile and realised something had fallen out. Not wishing to leave evidence of my actions I went down to pick up what I assumed was some promo junk, I stopped. There were three polaroids on the floor. Putting the magazine back on the pile I picked up the photos.
I gasped. It was Mom.
She was sat on the sofa we used to have in the living room, wearing a pink bikini top and briefs, with a pair of dainty open-toed pink high heels on. She had her legs crossed and was smiling. The second was the same with her legs crossed the other way. I gasped again at the third, she was topless, still smiling. I froze just for a second, my brain screaming at me to return the photos to the magazine. Sadly, in these situations, the brain rarely wins. I grabbed all three and ran back to my room, shutting the door behind me. I scambled on to the bed, laying all the photos in front of me. I stuggled with my trouser flies and manage to free my cock, grabbing it with my hand I looked at the photos again. This was my mother. Short back bob, around 5' 10" with average size tits and fantastic legs. This was not the Mom I knew from wearing trousers or jeans and big jumpers. It seemed like a totally different woman. I think what was how I rationalised afterwards, she was totally different to the Mom I knew. One that posed like this for a boyfriend, posing like this now for me. My fist was wrapped around my cock, pumping hard, it took only seconds to cum. It shot across the bed, some of it landing on the wall some on the photos. As I leaned back, slowly wanking out the last drops of liquid, I looked at the pics through my bleary eyes. What had I done? It was only the dinner call that brought me round.
As I lay in bed that night, Mom had noticed something was different about me. I had watched her through most of dinner, again she asked if I was alright and I replied that I was, but she wasn't buying it. She asked me if I was still thinking about moving out. I said yes. This time there was little to disguise her disappointment. I wanted to comfort her, I really did, but this was insane. I'd just masturbated over my own mother. Over those pictures. Those photos that were still in the drawer, I hadn't even bothered to return them to Mom's room. I needed to get out.
I spent the day in work in a trance, I took calls, I filed reports, but I was thinking about what I'd done. It was completely nuts. I had to get out, had to find somewhere else to live.
That night at dinner I could tell Mom was looking at me oddly again and once more I raised the point of me leaving.
"But I'll be so alone," she protested. I told she wouldn't be, she still had all her friends, I mean God they came round for dinner enough and she needed to understand that I had to be me. She finished the conversation by asking me if there was any way she could persuade me to stay. I told her it wasn't a very fair question, all birds leave the nest sometime, right? She acceeded the point and dinner continued.
But the photos still lay in my drawer, piled carefully under a magazine. I sat there in my bed thinking about them. My hands resting above the duvet, the images played in my mind. Was she winking at me? Could I be sure? I had to check. All excuses, I know this now. I fumbled with the drawer and the magazine and the photos came out. Holding each one in turn up to the light, I let go. I pictured myself kneeling there, kissing her toes through her pink shoes and working my way upwards, planting my lips as I moved across her legs, her sweet encouragement, the fingers in my hair coaxing me towards her pussy, the wonderful smell as my face went between her thighs, her warmth and wetness...
I shot my load across the bedspread groaning out. As my breathing became shallower I began to fall asleep, the photos still in my hand.
This continued for a week, I was rapidly running out of month to move by and could see myself staying at home for October too. It would be OK, I told myself, it would be fine. By now I'd managed to buy other magazines in order to try and get over those pictures, but it just wasn't real enough... Night after night, I'd go back to the polaroids. I knew I was in trouble when I went looking for other photos too, but with no luck. I then thought about spying on Mom. I was too shocked with my own thought to continue and went back to looking at the rental property pages.
After another week of fruitless searching I came home and trumped upstairs to my bedroom as usual. As I entered I stopped. The drawer, the drawer with the photos in was open. Closing the door I went over and investigated. The photos were still there. I breathed a sigh of relief. A couple of lads mags were jammed over the top. Maybe Mom had tidied them away? I couldn't remember if I'd left them out. Maybe she'd decided to have a look at the magazines herself... and maybe she'd seen the photos. I rearranged the drawer as it should be and hurridly got changed. Prepare for the worst, I told myself, she could go ballistic at dinner. I tentatively made my way downstairs.
A smile greeted me as I poked my head into the kitchen. She was making pasta.
"Alright?" she asked.
"Err, yes," came my reply.
I was told to sit at the table. This I did, still apprehensive, but when she came in with the food and we ate everything was fine. My mind was put at ease, at least until I got up to leave.
"Sam... you are OK, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes... Why?"
"Just making sure. If there's anything you want to talk to me about you know you can."
At the moment I felt her hand on my hand. She smiled at me again.
"OK, Mom..."
I moved my hand away and got up to clear the dishes. As I walked out the kitchen I was shaking slightly. Maybe she had seen the photos, maybe she was just wary of the girlie magazines, maybe she was asking if I was OK because I was shaking! As I bent down to open the dishwasher I realised, with some discomfort, that I had an erection. I took several deep breaths standing close to the kitchen unit as Mom entered with the rest of the tableware. I felt her fingers gently stroke the back of my head and then she kissed me quickly on the cheek, before leaving again. I stood still, waiting for my cock to die down for two whole minutes.
From this point onwards things took an interesting turn. Two days later on Saturday I'd stayed in bed watching cartoons for most of the morning and was thinking about something more productive when I heard Mom's voice from over the landing. I got up, carefully adjusting my boxers to prevent myself from slipping out and went around to her bedroom. She was stood in front of the full length mirror by her bed wearing a navy blue skirt with a white blouse. I was stunned, this was one of the first times I had seen my Mom's legs since finding the photos. The skirt ended just above the knee and she was wearing nylons of some sort. My mouth went dry.
