Under the Mistletoe

My mother and I had agreed that we'd have a quiet Christmas - she'd just broken off with her latest lover, and I had no plans, so we decided we'd spend the day at home together, just the two of us. But on Christmas Eve we learned that my oldest and best friend, Frank, would be on his own – his family had gone on a short skiing holiday and got snowed in. He and I had visited each other's homes innumerable times, and he was almost like a member of the family, so of course my mother insisted that he spent Christmas Day with us.

Mum decided that she should look 'Christmassy', and she was wearing a red light woollen dress, unusually low-cut for her, and showing quite a lot of her breasts and deep cleavage. It left her arms bare, and the hem ended a couple of inches above her knees. She was fair-haired, with dazzling blue eyes, a wide sensuous mouth with full lips, and very white skin that tanned to a light golden colour in the summer. Her figure was gorgeous, with full breasts and a narrow waist, and excellent legs set off by high heels, and when Frank arrived and saw her he gave a low whistle, and she blushed, looking down at herself.

'Do you - do you think this dress shows too much of me?' she asked nervously, looking at me and then Frank.

'Of course not, Mum - you look wonderful - and anyway, it's Christmas!' I said, and Frank agreed, saying that she looked perfect.

He'd brought an armful of presents, a bunch of flowers for my mother, a bottle of sherry and one of champagne, and then with a flourish he produced a sprig of mistletoe. ‘I just found out that kissing under the mistletoe is a Scandinavian legend from ancient mythology,' he said. ‘A sprig of mistletoe was given to the goddess of love to keep, and everyone who passed under it received a kiss as a symbol of love. Just the thing for a lady wearing a dress like that. So here you are, Goddess!'

He handed it to my mother – she giggled, and held it over her head, and he grinned and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. She giggled again and turned to me: ‘Now it's your turn, darling!'

I smiled and wished her a Happy Christmas, then I kissed her on the cheek.

‘No! A proper kiss, dear – it's Christmas!' she said, and offered me her mouth. I hesitated for a moment, then briefly pressed my lips to hers, and Frank looked on, grinning. Then he took the mistletoe and fastened it over the doorway. ‘We have to have a kiss every time we come through the door!'

We opened the bottle of sherry and toasted each other, then chatted for a while. The sherry went down quickly, and we all had another glass. My mother rarely drank, just an occasional glass of wine with a meal, and soon her face was slightly flushed and her eyes took on an additional sparkle. Then Frank suggested we go out for some fresh air and a lunchtime drink. As we passed through the doorway Frank and I both got another kiss, and then my mother grabbed a shawl to put round her shoulders, and we set off.

The weather was unseasonably mild, and it wasn't far to walk, so we didn't get much exercise or fresh air. The place was crowded, but we were lucky enough to find a seat for my mother, and she sipped another sherry while Frank and I stood next to her enjoying a beer. I noticed that Mum got quite a lot of admiring glances, especially when she crossed her legs, to reveal a considerable expanse of thigh.

Standing over her like that, I - and Frank - had an excellent view of her swelling breasts, and when our glances met he rolled his eyes appreciatively and stared down at her again. Mum's chair was against the wall, and by stretching out she could just reach a nearby table to put her glass on it. But every time she did so, her dress fell away from her body to reveal a matching red half-bra, and of course even more of her breasts, and I felt my dick begin to harden involuntarily, and I guiltily found myself imagining slipping my hand into her bra and fondling my mother's perfect white globes..

It was very noisy, and difficult to make conversation, but Mum seemed to be enjoying herself. Then she took my hand and beckoned to me. I bent over, lowering my head so that she could whisper to me:

'I hope you like my new bra, darling - you seem to be spending a lot of time looking down my dress at it!'

Her eyes were sparkling mischievously, and when she saw me blushing scarlet she laughed and squeezed my hand, then deliberately leaned forward to reach for her glass, smiling up at me.

Mum announced that she needed to powder her nose - the toilets were at the far end of the long bar, and Frank and I watched as she pushed her way through the crowd, laughing as men joked with her, her body unavoidably pressing against them, and we saw the odd hand fondling her, but she didn't seem to mind. She was gone a long time, while we jealously guarded her chair, and when she finally returned her lipstick was smeared and her face even more flushed.

'There was more mistletoe down there!' she panted, laughing. 'I think an entire football team wanted to kiss me - and their hands were everywhere!'

She took out her mirror and tried to repair the damage, and when she crossed her legs the hem of her dress rode up even higher than before. As we finished our drinks her legs brushed against mine, and when she got up she stumbled slightly, and I put my arm round her to steady her, briefly pressing her yielding body to me.

On the way home I noticed Frank putting his arm round her waist, and she giggled and put her head on his shoulder for a moment. When we got indoors the mistletoe came into play again, but this time the kisses were a little longer, and I felt my dick stirring again as I held her and kissed her soft warm lips.

The afternoon passed quickly – we did the usual things, listened to music, chatted, ate mince pies, and had tea. My mother and I often passed in the doorway going to and from the kitchen, and I was uncomfortably aware of her breasts pressing against my chest every time we kissed. Seeing her sitting in an armchair showing even more thigh didn't help, either, and I noticed that Frank frequently glanced at her legs, too.

She may have seen him looking at her, or it might have been completely innocent, but as she passed him sitting on the settee she asked him if he was enjoying his Christmas. Frank smiled at her and grabbed her hand, pulling her down beside him as he said he was having a wonderful time. Then he put his arm round her and kissed her soundly - Mum struggled to free herself, her legs flailing, and I caught a flash of bare thighs as I discovered that she was wearing stockings and a suspender belt. I also saw her skimpy panties, red lace to match her bra, and then I was stunned to see a dark patch between her legs, and I realised that all the kissing and fooling around had made my mother wet.

She broke away, laughing and gasping for breath, and said that kissing was only allowed under the mistletoe. Frank winked at me and nodded towards the doorway, and I collected the mistletoe and held it over them. Mum hesitated, then she turned to Frank and I saw her lips part as his mouth covered hers. The kiss lengthened - his left arm was around her shoulders, his hand on her bare arm, while his right hand rested on her uncovered thigh, and I saw her pressing herself against him as she returned his kiss. I felt the now-familiar spurt of arousal, coupled with envy as I watched them kissing, and then Mum finally pushed him away, her face flushed and her breasts heaving as she struggled for breath.

Her dress had slipped off one shoulder, and the hem was practically up around her waist - she quickly rearranged her dress and wriggled it down over her legs, saying nothing and with her eyes lowered, and I was afraid things had gone too far. I replaced the mistletoe over the doorway, and turned to find my mother standing behind me. She said she was going to the bathroom, then she glanced up at the mistletoe and kissed me, hugging me to her. The kiss was brief but unexpectedly passionate, and I knew she could feel my erection jammed against her.

Then it was time for more sherry, and we eventually sat down to dinner about seven, having again frequently paused under the mistletoe. Frank opened the champagne, and soon my mother's cheeks were flushed again. We laughed a lot, and pulled crackers, and drank more champagne - both Frank and I got frequent glimpses of my mother's breasts and legs, and by now my dick was permanently stiff and throbbing. After dinner the three of us did the dishes together, and I managed to brush my erect dick against Mum's bottom and once even trail the back of my hand across her breasts as I reached for something. If she noticed she didn't say or do anything, and finally we tidied up before having coffee in the living room.

Mum and I led the way, with me carrying the tray of coffee cups, and we paused yet again under the mistletoe. It wasn't easy to kiss her properly while carrying the tray, but she seemed in no hurry to break away, and I felt her lips working deliciously on my mouth. But then I moved on into the room and put the tray down on the coffee table, my mother following me, just as Frank appeared in the doorway.

Without a word he took Mum's hand and drew he back under the mistletoe, then he put his arm round her and held her close as he fastened his mouth on hers. I saw her stiffen momentarily, then she moulded her body to him as the kiss deepened. I watched, dumbfounded, as they kissed wetly, seeing their tongues hunting for each other, and then to my amazement I saw Frank's right hand cup my mother's left breast. I expected her to pull away angrily, but instead she slipped her bare arm round his neck and squirmed against him as he fondled her.

His other hand dropped to her bottom, forcing her pelvis against him - the kiss seemed to go on for ever, but then their lips parted, and he kissed her neck and shoulder, then he whispered something in her ear, his hands still kneading her breast and fondling her bottom. She stared into his eyes for a few moments, then slowly nodded her head before kissing him hungrily once again. Then she took his hand and led him out of the room, pausing only to glance at me guiltily over her shoulder, and then they were gone.

Ignoring the coffee, I poured myself a Scotch, unable to believe what I'd just witnessed. I sank into an armchair and switched on the TV, muting the sound and staring unseeingly at the screen as I took a swig of whiskey, trying to come to terms with what my mother and Frank were doing. I soon needed to replenish my glass, and carried the bottle back to the chair. I turned off the lights, so that the only illumination came from the Christmas tree decorations and the TV, and thought back over the day, visualising again my mother's body and legs clad in her revealing red dress, her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, and the feel of her lips on mine.

I drank some more Scotch, and slowly realised that despite my shock and anger, I was becoming aroused at the thought of my mother upstairs with Frank. I imagined him stripping her, removing her red dress and then her bra, freeing her full breasts and kissing them and sucking her nipples ... I thought of him peeling off her stockings and kissing her feet and legs, then pulling off her suspender belt and easing her panties down before kissing her thighs and burying his face between her legs, then laying her on the bed and parting her legs as, naked in his arms, she guided his cock into her, and let him fuck her … I don't know how long I sat like that, drinking and staring moodily into space, gripping my dick through my trousers, but eventually my eyes closed, still imaging my mother naked with Frank, in the throes of an orgasm …

The sound of the front door closing brought me back to consciousness, and then I heard my mother's voice. ‘Darling – are you all right?' she said anxiously.

She was bending over me, holding her robe tightly round her body, and she took the empty glass from my hand and put it on the coffee table. I reached out and pulled her down onto my lap, her legs hanging over the arm of the chair, and she looked up at me miserably.

‘I – I didn't mean to do it, darling – nothing like that has happened with Frank before – I've never thought about him like that, and he wasn't even very good. Maybe it was the champagne, I don't know. But it's been like that all day, and those men kissing me, and feeling me. And everybody kept looking at me – you, too, darling - and wanting me … It doesn't mean anything, and it won't happen again. It's just that – when he kissed me, and touched me … he asked me if I wanted to go to bed, and suddenly I wanted sex desperately …I'd have done it with anybody ...' Her voice trailed away, and in the dim light I saw that there were tears in her eyes.

My arm was around her shoulders – her body felt warm through the thin material of her robe, and the vision of Frank fucking her suddenly returned. I slipped my free hand inside her robe – as I'd thought, she was naked beneath it, and I found her breast – the same breast that Frank had fondled through her dress as they kissed under the mistletoe. I brushed my thumb back and forth across her nipple, feeling it stiffen, and my mother stared at me wide-eyed.

‘Darling! What are you doing? You – you mustn't …'

I didn't wait for her to finish, but pulled her to me and kissed her roughly, still caressing her naked yielding breast inside her robe. She struggled, trying to push me away, but I held her tightly, kissing her fiercely. Gradually her struggles weakened, and again I felt her hard nipple as I caressed her. Then her mouth opened under mine, and our tongues found each other. I pushed the robe away from her body, and I raised her up so that I could kiss her breast. I tried to take as much as I could of it in my mouth, sucking it until I eventually concentrated on her nipple, running my tongue around it and feeling her stippled aureole. I sucked her rigid nipple as I must have done as a baby, and I heard her moaning. Then I ran my hand over her body, down over her belly, feeling it fluttering under my fingers. I looked down at her, and saw marks on her bare breasts - Frank must have been rough with her, but from what I knew of some of her past lovers she would have enjoyed that. My hand wandered between her legs, and I stroked her thighs, and then I lifted her up to slide my hand beneath her to fondle her bottom.

Her legs were splayed wide apart - one knee was still hooked over the arm of the chair, and her other foot trailed on the floor. I ran my hand up and down her incredibly silky-soft thighs, before finding the lips of her dripping wet vulva. Then I concentrated on her clitoris, rubbing it, squeezing it, tugging it and rolling it between my finger and thumb. My mother was squirming against me as I caressed her, kissing me feverishly. Still holding her, I managed to push the robe off her shoulders completely, and then I lowered her, naked, onto the rug and knelt beside her. She looked up at me, her eyes heavy with lust as I started to tear off my clothes. ‘Darling – I should tell you to stop, but I want it – I want you – I need you - so badly!'

I stared at her beautiful naked body, illuminated only by the flickering TV screen and the Christmas tree lights, then I lowered myself on top of her and kissed her. She writhed under me, returning my kisses and clinging to me. Then she reached down for my throbbing penis, and suddenly I was sliding into her.

Now I could think of nothing but the marvellous sensation of easing my cock into my mother's vagina. It seemed that my already engorged penis lengthened and thickened even more - I think Mum felt it too, because she gasped, and her hips thrust up to force me deeper into her, and I felt the muscles of her vagina gripping me. I started to fuck her slowly, kissing and fondling her, and hearing hr moaning softly. The feel of her body against mine was incredible, her skin incredibly smooth and her flesh soft and yielding, her mouth wet and hungry. I forced her wrists above her head, and she responded by grinding her breasts against my chest. I held back as long as I could, not wanting it to end – my mother was panting frantically, her body jerking spasmodically and her skin slippery with perspiration, and suddenly I couldn't wait any longer.

I started to drive into her faster and harder, feeling her match my movements – her heels clamped onto my buttocks, helping me to penetrate her even more deeply, and then she screamed, locking her ankles round me and forcing herself against me as I ejaculated violently. It was the most shattering climax I'd ever experienced, and my semen spurted into her uncontrollably, jetting against the walls of her vagina again and again. She fell back limply, shuddering as I continued to erupt into her, and when I eventually started to soften she smiled at me weakly and touched my face.

‘Christ, why did I bother with Frank? I've never known anything like that before, sweetheart ... Take me upstairs, darling, and make love to me like that all night! But first, dearest, kiss me again - and don't let's bother with the mistletoe!'