After Dinner Hint

I was five and Mom was only twenty one when Dad was killed in an industrial accident. He was ten years older than she was, and although I don't know what his job was Mom says he was pretty high up in the pecking order, on a damn good salary most guys could only dream of. His firm was found guilty of gross negligence. Mom was smart enough to get a good but not too greedy lawyer, who drew up a chart showing Dad's progress up the work ladder, and taking into account inflation, how much he could have earned from then until I turned eighteen, we received a hefty payout. When I say 'not too greedy' I mean he padded his calculations enough to make sure his fat fee increased the payout to cover it. He also coached Mom, so when she had to give evidence, the cheap clothes he told her to wear and dress me in tugged at the heartstrings of the jury, so they actually awarded more that the lawyer asked for.

Although I was too young at the time to know which way was up, looking back I'm pretty sure that lawyer had the hots for Mom, because he even persuaded his own financial experts to act for her for next to nothing. I guess it paid off for them in the long run though, because she was so grateful for their advice that after she paid out the mortgage she did what she saw as the right thing to do, and engaged them to invest the rest of the money, so we received a generous income. Another thing that makes me so sure his interest was more than professional, was he rang and visited her regularly, supposedly to check she was doing OK. When I was about eight I woke up one night needing to pee, and I saw them coming out of Mom's room. Mom was wrapped in a bed sheet and wasn't looking too happy, but if his grin had been any wider the top of his head would have fallen off. That was the last we heard of him, so he must have got whatever it was he wanted.

The only thing I really remember about Dad was the way he squashed me between him and Mom when he hugged her, which was a lot, and always made me feel warm and safe. When the huge bear of a man was holding us like that there was no way the bogeymen could get us. Then one day he didn't come home from work, and Mom was crying and crying and crying all day every day for ages, which made me cry too. I didn't know what going to Heaven meant, but that was what she said he'd done, even though he didn't want to, but I figured it must be a lousy place if Dad going there made my Mom cry all the time. For the next thirteen years she was Mom and Dad to me, and she made sure the hugs never stopped, so even though it wasn't long before I couldn't really remember him any more, I never really forgot him, if that makes any sense.

Saturday night dinners were always special to Mom. Sort of semi formal. She would take extra care preparing the meal, and then we sat down to eat dressed in our nicest clothes. Not always our best clothes, but never our ordinary knockabout stuff. Years later in my early teens I asked her about it, and she said her first date with Dad had been at a fancy restaurant, and they had gone there every Saturday. It was after one of these dinners that he got her pregnant, and with the reluctant permission of her parents they married on her sixteenth birthday. As her waistline expanded they had found it more convenient to recreate the occasion at home, and three months after the wedding they became first time parents. After Dad was killed, Mom kept up the tradition, as a sort of tribute to him and the love they had for each other.

When I was in my teens I started bringing my friends home after school, and we would sit at the big dining table to do our homework, while Mom prepared dinner. As we grew older, they seemed to be spending as much time looking at her as they spent on their books. One day one of them told her how nice she looked, and although she blushed a little she took the compliment with good grace. At the time I didn't think anything of it because she was my Mom, and all boys think their Mom's are beautiful, even when they are nothing special to look at. After that first time the guys began commenting more frequently, although always with respect. Even when a couple of them told me they thought she was sexy, there was always respect in their tones, not like when we talked about the girls we used to ogle. I guess it was like all things though. When you are told something often enough you start to wonder if it might be true, and I started looking at Mom differently, trying to see her as they did.

Coming up to my eighteenth birthday I realised I wasn't getting anywhere at school, so I quit and got a part time job stacking shelves in a supermarket. It wasn't the most glamorous job in creation, but we didn't exactly need the money and it got me out of the house and from under Mom's feet for a few hours.

The first Saturday night dinner after I hit eighteen Mom produced a bottle of wine. Somehow booze had never held any appeal for me, so I'd never tried it, but I must admit I liked the taste of the wine. The only problem was it made me a little silly, clowning around and hugging her a bit more than was really necessary. Nothing even remotely improper, just exuberance. Mom pretended to be annoyed, but the whole evening she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

Things began to change subtly over the next few months. I was seeing her differently now, taking in the swell of her smallish breasts, her trim waist, and the delightful roundness of her bottom. Seeing her the way my friends had seen her. There were times when my imagination got the better of me, especially lying in bed at night, and I jerked off guiltily as I pictured how I thought she would look naked. We were both smiling a lot, and several times she caught me studying her when I thought she wouldn't notice. She never said anything, but her smile would grow mysterious, and often she would touch my shoulder or ruffle my hair as she passed my chair. There were also subconscious gestures that I couldn't really point to, and she made occasional remarks about how much I had grown to resemble Dad, and how nice it was to have a man around the house again. If it had been any other woman I might have thought she was sending out signals, but since she was my Mom I knew that was all in my overactive imagination.

One Saturday night as we polished off a rather good beef stroganoff, washed down with a nice red, she gave me a wistful smile. "Do you know what today is, Davey?" Before I could reply, she went on. "Our wedding anniversary. Nineteen years ago tonight was the happiest night of my life. For the first time I could openly sleep with the only man I ever loved." She took a sip from her glass, then reached across and squeezed my hand. "Before you, that is."

I thought about what she had told me as we ate, and when we finished I remained sitting at the dinner table watching Mom wash the dishes. I was wearing an open neck sport shirt with neatly pressed slacks, and she was in a not too short slightly flared skirt, and a white blouse. An unbidden image popped into my head of her lying naked and open, as my Dad thrust his cock up into her swollen, six months pregnant belly. In an uncomfortable way I felt like I was intruding, so I tried to distract myself by studying the way her ass moved as she moved from one foot to the other. In my mind I lifted up the hem of her skirt, so my hands and eyes could wander freely over the wonderful globes. I returned to reality when she finished and turned away from the sink, and I felt my cock stiffening when I noticed that water had splashed on her blouse, highlighting one large perfect nipple. She came towards me, and I was sure she noticed my bulge, but she didn't let on. She had this strange smile as she moved closer, until her neat boobs were only a couple of inches from my face. I could smell her womanly scent, which just made my cock even harder.

There was something different about her that I couldn't quite pinpoint. I was vaguely aware that she was telling me how much she loved me, but I couldn't concentrate on her words because her hands were behind my head, pulling me tight against her bosom. I knew I was not thinking straight, but it was just too tempting. I forced a cough, using it as an excuse to move my head until my mouth was next to her wet nipple. Suddenly I was a bit scared I'd gone to far, but she didn't saying anything, just took a deep breath as her nipple hardened against my closed lips. That was when I realised what was different. For the first time I could recall she wasn't wearing a bra, and without thinking I opened my mouth and sucked her nipple through the thin fabric.

I was expecting her to back away and yell at me, but her chest was rising and falling faster, and I wondered if maybe she was sending out signals after all. Either way I was too turned on to care, and my hand moved up under her skirt until my palm rested on the smooth skin of her inner thigh, a few inches above her knee. With the hem of her skirt resting on my wrist her scent was really strong, and there was a huge lump in my throat as she pulled me tighter against her tit. She did nothing to stop me sliding my hand higher up the inside of her thigh, and I was a bit shocked when instead of touching her panties, my finger slipped between the lips of her very bare, very wet pussy.

Mom froze for an instant, and her voice was unsteady as she asked "Davey, do you really think you should be touching your mother like this?"

Considering that I was already sucking her nipple and feeling her pussy, it seemed a bit late for her to ask me that, so letting my hand drop and taking my mouth from her breast, I countered with a question of my own. "Do you really think you should be letting me?"

Her whispered "No!" was sharp, but I couldn't tell from her tone if she meant "No, I shouldn't" or "No, don't stop", so I resumed stroking her clit. With a soft sigh she leaned against me and parted her thighs a little more. After a few more moments I looked up into her misted eyes. "Mom, you know we have to, don't you?" She nodded mutely and let me take her hand, as I rose and led her to her bedroom, where she kicked off her shoes and stood trembling as I took off her blouse and skirt.

I couldn't remember how many times I had dreamed of seeing her nude, and now the reality was a thousand times better than the fantasy. She was absolutely breathtaking, with her hard brown nipples tipping conical breasts that stood out firmly from her ribcage. Flaring out to perfectly proportioned hips, her trim waist surmounted a slightly rounded stomach with a deep navel. I lowered my gaze and sucked in a deep breath. Below a sparse and neatly trimmed fringe, her clean shaven pussy could not have been more perfect if I had designed it myself, and I knew instantly and instinctively that what was about to happen was something she had planned and timed especially for this special day. Just as I was certain that she had dressed the way she had so that when the moment she hoped for came, there would be no clumsy fumbling with underwear. It was suddenly vitally important to me that I make it as perfect for her as possible, so there would be no regrets.

She saw where my gaze was focused, and she smiled and parted her legs, pushing her hips forward so I could see better. Hurrying out of my clothes, I took her in my arms and our lips met in a deep sensuous lovers' kiss. Instead of the expected embarrassment, I felt totally at ease when my Mom stepped back and looked for the first time at my stiff dick. In fact I was surprised at the total lack of awkwardness between us, as if incest between mother and son was the most natural thing in the world. My hand closed on her breast, and she pressed herself against my erection before she broke away and arranged herself on the bed in open and honest invitation.

I positioned myself beside her, covering her forehead, her eyes, her ears, her cheeks, her chin with tiny kisses, before our lips met again in another searching kiss. Lifting my head to catch my breath, my heart thudded as I looked into the sparkling pools of her eyes. "I love you Mom,"

She smiled up at me. "I know Davey, I love you too."

I shook my head. "No Mom, I mean I really love you," I said, stressing the word and cupping her breast meaningfully.

Again she smiled, and put out a hand to squeeze my cock. "Yes I know." Gently but insistently she pushed my head down, heaving a long sigh as I took a hard puckered nipple between my lips. For several unhurried minutes I went from one breast to the other, alternately sucking and squeezing before kissing my way slowly down the length of her trembling body, bypassing her fragrant sex and continuing along her thigh and calf to her foot. She giggled and squirmed when I brushed my lips across the sole of each foot, and kissed up the inside of her other leg. I paused to study her vagina, glistening with pearly beads of arousal, then parted the pouting lips to reveal the pinkness of her secret inner folds. She gasped at the touch of my finger on her already engorged clitoris, a gasp which changed to a soft moan when I replaced my finger with my tongue.

My Mom was closer to the edge than I thought, and the flow of her exotic essences increased as my tongue travelled up and down her slit, teasing her clit, gathering her secretions. Abruptly her thighs tightened around my head with the onset of her orgasm. She bucked her hips as her secretions thickened, and moments later her creamy cum filled my waiting mouth. Much as I wanted to feel her warmth, I fought the temptation to push my finger into her. There would be ample time for that later, but the first thing I wanted her to feel inside her was the hard virility of my prick.

I left a sticky trail as I kissed my way back up to her tits, sucking each in turn, then moving up until our lips met again. As our tongues entwined, Mom reached down and guided me to her entrance. She had been so long without a cock that she gasped when I pushed deep into her almost virginal tightness, and as the velvet walls grasped my shaft I knew how dad had felt when he had first thrust into her. We came together gently but urgently, matching thrust for thrust, gasp for gasp, kiss for kiss. I tempered my thrusts, stroking in and out fast enough to keep her balanced on the brink of orgasm, and slow enough so I wouldn't cum before she was ready. Finally I could hold out no longer, and I looked into her eyes. "I'm going to cum, Mom"

Incredibly her inner muscles tightened even more as her climax erupted. "Do it Davey. Do it!" With perfect timing my own dam burst, and we clung to each other as my hot cum filled her cunt. "Oh god Davey," she panted. "That was wonderful. It's been so long that I'd forgotten how good it could be." I couldn't find the words to describe how I was feeling at that moment, because it seemed to me that anything I did say might sound wrong. That it might sound like a platitude, or that I was trying to hide feelings of guilt for fucking my own mother. Or what would be even worse, that it might make her feel bad for being so willing to spread her legs for her son's cock. Although I knew neither she nor I had even the slightest trace of regret, I knew Mom well enough to know that if she suspected for an instant that I did, she would feel guilty about making me feel guilty, and that would tarnish what we had shared, so I remained silent.

We lay for perhaps a half hour, with Mom's head on my shoulder and her breast nestled snugly in my palm. Eventually she broke the silence when she glanced down at my hand. "Do you think they are too small?"

I squeezed gently. "Does it fit in my hand?"

"Well yes, but..."

"There's your answer then."

She was silent for a few moments more, then, "Actually they weren't even this big until I had you."

I had another mental image of her swollen belly. "I suppose I could always make them bigger." I quipped.

Mom looked at me puzzled. "How?" then it sank in and her mouth formed a round "Oh". Raising herself on one elbow she started tracing patterns on my chest with a fingertip. "My turn now," she whispered, and her lips were like butterfly wings on my skin as she rained kisses over my face and neck, and down over my chest and stomach. My cock rose as she came closer, and she swooped, her lips encircling the head in the most intimate kiss of all. Her tongue worked unceasingly as she took my cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, until her nose was buried in my pubes, and then with agonising slowness she withdrew before plunging back down.

Spellbound, I watched her cheeks hollow with each withdrawal, and when she carefully cupped my balls in her hand, I twisted round and pushed two fingers into her sticky cunt. She jerked as if stung, and her hips and head worked in unison, frantically fucking her twat with my fingers as she fucked her mouth with my cock. This was more than I could take, and within seconds my cum splattered against the back of her throat. She continued to suck until I was totally drained, and then she straightened and looked at me with the most blissful smile I had ever seen.

"God Davey, that was stupendous!"

"God Mom, That was awesome!"

We both spoke at the same instant, then collapsed into each other's arms, giggling helplessly. It took some time to bring ourselves under control again, and then she kissed me and slipped from the bed. "I don't know about you, but right now I could use a coffee and a pee." A minute later I heard the toilet flush, and whilst she busied herself in the kitchen, I took a leak. By the time she returned with two steaming mugs, I was back sitting on the bed waiting.

There seemed no need for words, as we sat cross legged on the bed facing each other sipping our coffee. Now that I was looking at her without having a hard on, I could see her as she really was, rather than as someone I could think only of fucking, and strangely, what I was looking at was better than the fantasy. Paradoxically her lack of perfection made her even more perfect, even more enticing. The fact that her breasts were not quite the same size, and her nipples not quite centred simply added to her appeal. The soft roundness of her stomach showed that maybe she wasn't as well toned as she might prefer, but I have to admit that her vagina was nothing short of superb. The lips didn't pout as much as when she was aroused, but they still made a perfect frame for her slightly protruding clit. I'm not saying I'm particularly well endowed, but if I didn't know otherwise I would have thought her pussy looked too small to take a cock. All in all, I knew without a doubt that this was a woman I would love honour and cherish, as long as we both did live, until death did us part.

Mom took my now empty mug, and placed it with hers on the bedside table, and lay back with her legs spread wide. "Now Mister," she grinned, eyeing my cock. "Show me how you propose to make my tits bigger."