Falling for My Mum Ch. 03

Naked as the day I emerged from that pussy and just as eager to get back there, I lay in your arms and gently pushed my cock past your lips and deep into your pussy. This was not the moment for fucking, this was love making - slow, gentle rhythmic, your pussy muscles and my cock continuing the massage from earlier, the ripples from it rolling out to our cores.

"Oh Tom," you sighed as we kissed, "I love your cock darling, it's so beautiful, it makes me feel so good," you told me. Was it simply to reassure me? I don't know but the words felt real to me and I could see truth in your eyes and it made me feel amazing. Mums always know the right thing to say, right?

As wonderful as it felt inside your pussy, what mattered to me most that night was the kissing. Great kissing is the sign of truly great sex, of a sex that is more than just fun (not that there's anything wrong with that kind of sex) but a deeper connection. I couldn't have felt more connected to you as our tongues melded into each other almost as closely as our sexual parts. Deep, sensual, electric kisses that touched my very core and made it reach for you. Our bodies and tongues intertwined together on that hotel bed, the body that you had created and nurtured burning for yours and you for it until, with a great cry that seemed to come from both of us at the same time and to be a single sound, we came, our juices mixing together inside the furnace where I'd been made.

"Now, my boy," you said and pulled me into a lingering kiss. "You be a good boy today in public with your old Mum and I'll give you a reward tonight when we're in Florida." Taking my face in your soft hands, you licked me from jaw to cheekbone. I have a shudder of excitement and felt my cock straining against my shorts. I grinned and lowered my hands to your arse, hidden beneath a blue linen dress that fell demurely to just above your knees.

"You remember what I said about what would happen the next time you called yourself old, Mum?" I asked and tapped your backside with my open palm, feeling the flesh move delightfully beneath. You smiled a lazy, seductive smile.

"What do you think your reward is going to be?" You purred suggestively. "You be good and you can punish Mummy for being *so* naughty in denying you," you breathed hotly. God, how could you do this to me, I wondered? Make me hard as steel with just a few words and at five o'clock in the fucking morning too!

"I'll be good," I managed. "I promise." And damn me if I wasn't. All through check-in, breakfast, boarding and the flight itself I was the perfect gentleman and son. Much as I wanted to fondle you in the queue, lay you out over the breakfast table and fuck you in front of all the other bleary-eyed diners or to find a way of joining the Mile-High Cub, I didn't, contenting myself with merely imagining these things and thinking about my reward. The long flight and my promise to be good gave me time to admire you and to reflect on this new development in our relationship.

You looked much happier this morning after the revelations of last night, as if a weight was gone from your shoulders. It was lovely just to watch you reading your book in your seat, your brows slightly furrowed in concentration, your black rimmed glasses pushed a little way down your long nose and see the perfect way you had done your mascara and eye liner. You were still so beautiful, I couldn't believe how foolish Dad was to take you for granted - no wonder you and Connie had found comfort in each other, I couldn't blame Connie for finding you attractive - I had had what felt like a permanent hard on for you for months!

Obviously telling me about Connie had been difficult but doing so had lifted the cloud that had been hanging over you yesterday. What happened now between you and Connie was up to you. It was easy for me, I was young and had found the woman I wanted in my own home. Things were more complicated for you, you had more experience, had seen more of life and had picked up feelings, attractions and emotions, both rough and smooth, as you had gone through life. I determined not to put pressure on you to make a decision between me and Connie - your sexuality might not simply flow down one channel. I would give you everything I had but I wanted you to feel fulfilled and at peace with your choices.

More fun to contemplate as the plane made its way over the Atlantic was the thought that you might really like to be spanked. The French call it Le vice Anglais, a peculiarly British sexual kink they thought, which came from institutionalised corporal punishment in British boarding schools. We'd both been to private school, of course, though in my case sometime after corporal punishment had been outlawed. I'd never experienced it myself but maybe you had or wanted to.

I reflected that maybe you had a bit of a submissive streak in you. You had, after all, been reluctant about our more public, risky sexual encounters but you hadn't stopped me, had gone along with them and, more than that, really entered into them. A little smile played on my lips as I thought more about it. Sensing my hungry stare, you looked over at me quizzically.

"What are you smiling about young man?" You asked softly.

"Wait and see, mother dearest. Wait and see," I replied with relish in my tone. You gave a delightful blush and couldn't hold my gaze, returning to your book. My smile broadened, my suspicion hardening into a conviction.

What a thought, a daring inversion of the natural mother son relationship where the parent disciplined the child. How deliciously naughty of us both to want that. Being with you had already brought out sexual sides of me, including a daring exhibitionist, that my previous vanilla experience had never hinted at. When one had broken one of the greatest of all taboos, that of incest, mere spanking held no fears, only the promise of visceral excitement.

With such wicked thoughts running through my mind, I closed my eyes, a smile on my face and my cock lying thick and hard against my thigh in the cotton navy blue shorts I had worn in preparation for the blistering Floridian heat. Were you watching that cock while I slept, seeing it hardness, knowing it was for you, only you, and imagining what we might do with it later.

We arrived in Tampa airport around lunchtime after a ten-hour flight. August is simultaneously Florida's warmest, wettest and most humid month and I was determined to make sure we made it to the house before the inevitable afternoon thunderstorm. We went to our usual car rental agent and hired a black Range Rover, flying the flag for Britain abroad! It was just about an hour and a quarter to Anna Maria from the airport and the rain started pelting down just as we came up the drive.

Giggling and screaming like schoolgirls, we dashed inside the 1950s beach house. On two levels in white clapboard, it had a veranda on the ground floor and a large balcony on the second with a pool and large garden out the back dotted with palm trees and other flora. A perfect, old world south retreat with a big open plan ground floor. What with the rain, the heat and the humidity, we were all but steaming as we collapsed into each other's arms laughing. The laughing turned quite quickly to kissing and, with the rain dripping off us, we smooched in the living room, our hands roaming over each other's damp clothing as it clung to our bodies.

Slowly we crumpled to the big wicker sofa as my hands moved to the zip at the back of your dress. Drawing it down your back, I could see that you hadn't been wearing a bra. You looked at me with a gleam in your eye as you noticed that I had taken in this fact. Fuck, I'd missed you and it had only been a few hours of 'normalcy', I was completely bonkers about you.

"No bra Mrs Moore?" I asked and you looked demurely down and away, a blush staining your creamy complexion. You bit your lip and shook your head and you looked up at me through your long eyelashes.

"No Mr Moore, is that very bad?" you asked in hushed, breathy tones. I smiled, playing along with your - our - game.

"Very. You've been teasing your son all day, telling him to be good while all the time allowing those beautiful breasts to range free within your dress, tempting him and others with that luscious body of yours. Stand up and show me what you've denied me all day mother," I ordered and you got to your feet unhesitatingly.

Slipping your arms out of the sleeveless linen dress, you peeled the wet dress away from your body and stepped out of it, revealing your lovely frame topped by those glorious milky breasts. Ever the practical mother, you moved to hang the dress over a stool around the big kitchen island so that the linen didn't get out of shape before coming back and standing before me.

I had taken the opportunity to move over to my hard suitcase as removed the red band that ran around its middle. On the band was blazoned in yellow stitching the legend 'Property of Tom Moore'. Smiling wickedly as you approached me, I told you to put your hands out in front of you. You complied and I tied the band around your wrists in a way that meant you could read the wording. You looked me in the eyes and in then I could see lust, trust, excitement and a dash of shame. Looking at you, your blonde hair damp around your shoulders, dressed only in wedge sandal heels and a pair of blue cotton panties, my heart almost broke with love and desire. Bloody hell, what had I done in a past life to deserve this? Won a Nobel Peace Prize perhaps? Whatever it was, I was going to savour the rewards!

"Climb on the sofa Mrs Moore," I told you. You hesitated only a moment before obeying. What flashed through your mind in that moment? I'll never know but whatever it was, you gave into your desire and climb onto the sofa on all fours, your bottom in the air, your head down, your hair covering your face. I reached forward and swept your hair back over your neck so I could see you. I wanted to know every expression that crossed your face as we indulged in Le Vice Anglais. I could see your body quivering in anticipation. "Why are you still wearing your knickers Cat?" I asked softly and traced my finger over them, allowing it to drift down over your puffy pussy lips clearly outlined beneath the dampening cotton. I allowed my finger to linger there, feeling you shudder as I did and gasp your reply.

"I...I don't know Tom. I'm sorry, please...please remove them," you asked. Sliding my finger back up and over the cheeks of your arse until it reached the waistband, I hooked it inside and dragged them down, revealing that peach of a backside. Rather than removing them completely, though, I left them halfway down your thighs, a thin blue band around your tanned thighs, your alabaster bottom gleaming above in delightful contrast to the gentle tan of your thighs.

"You've been so naughty Mummy dear, denying your son all day," I said and, drawing back my open palm brought it down firmly on your pale left arse cheek. I saw you bite your lip and emit a stifled cry. I saw your cheek reddening as I withdrew my hand, the marks of my fingers already visible on that smooth flesh. "Don't you realise how hard you make me all the time Mrs Moore?" I asked as I slapped your other cheek with my left hand this time. The effect on your bottom was the same, but this time you couldn't stifle the cry. It was low and loud and long.

"Yes, yes I know it, Tom. I know what I do to you, and I love it." You told me, your eyes blazing as you looked back at me over your shoulder. "I'm such a bad Mummy for wanting you so bad darling and then for denying you. Take your reward in my punishment angel," you begged. How could I refuse such an invitation? Again my hand came down, again your flesh moved under it, again you gasped and moved forward involuntarily.

It was a glorious sight, Cat I only wish you could have seen it. You, my beautiful mother, all but naked before me, your hair damp and swept back, your pussy even damper, your juices starting to drop slowly onto your thighs, your arse, that splendid bottom, reddening as a result of its chastisement. God Cat, you'd never looked more amazing than that moment.

"Oh fuck Tom, don't stop, I'm so bad, fuck I love it, love you so much," you cried, almost babbling now as my hands administered the spanking. What we had done was considered so twisted, so wrong in the eyes of society that they would have locked us up for years and yet it felt, it feels so right, Mum - the incest, the inversion of the authority of mother and son - God it was all so wonderful.

My cock was all but bursting through my shorts and I drew it out and slapped it hard across your bottom and then against your pussy lips. You cried out on both occasions, on the last I saw you cum, restrained, tied by the wrists your body at least gave you release even if I would not. Your thighs shook, your eyes were screwed up tight and I could see your pussy lips moving, as if begging my cock to fill them. I didn't, not then, not that time. I had something else in mind.

"Oh Tom, please take me, fuck me now," you pleaded but I did not. I shook my head.

"No, you have been too bad Mother, too wicked to your son Cat. I'm going to mark you instead, mark you as mine with my cum," I told you and I saw your eyes gleam in delight as my fist closed around my engorged cock.

"Yes, yes my angel," you smiled, pouting at me. "Mark me with your cum my boy, brand Mummy with it." I couldn't last, how could I? I'd been dreaming about you all day and had just given you a spanking that I'd never even imagined. I'd seen you cum and I could see that glorious, sublime, supreme example of womanhood before me. With a loud and long moan, my cum spurted out of y cock, spattering on your delicate, tender flesh. It hit the cluster of moles on the left arse cheek, it pooled in the small of your back and some even fell into the gusset of your knickers as they hung between your thighs. My legs gave way and I had to hold the arm of the sofa to prevent myself from falling.

I stood there, breathing hard, looking at you, as you buried your head in the cushions of the sofa, your shoulders heaving too. Eventually, you looked back at me and the mess I had created and smiled, shaking your head. You were mother again, a look of faux disappointment on your face.

"You boys," you said tutting, "cum is always such a bugger to wash off!"

* * * * * *

You showered and changed into a delightful black bikini, with Brazilian cut briefs with a prominent matelassé waistband with a matching top with triangle cups to emphasise that splendid décolletage of yours. When you emerged, I was cooking us some scrambled eggs on toast which, along with some other essentials, I had found in the fridge and cupboards along with a note from Connie to say that she and Bud would pop round this evening after supper for a glass of wine.

"Jeez Mum," I said when I saw you, "How do you expect me to get anything done looking like that?" I asked. You gave me a seductive smile and padded over in your see-through heels and gave me a kiss on the chest, pressing your breasts into my arm.

"Who said anything about getting anything done? We're here to indulge ourselves angel, and I intend to indulge in you as much as my old body will allow me," you said, leaning up on tip toe and nibbling at my earlobe. I patted your bum again and you gave a little yelp.

"I did warn you about saying 'old' in front of me Mum!" I said with a wicked grin and you gave such a sexy pout that I wanted simply to take you across the kitchen island. Thrusting out your hip towards me, you rubbed your bottom and pulled down the briefs just a little to reveal some quite extensive red markings. I blushed at the evidence of my domination over my own mother.

"See what you did to your...young mother?" you pouted again. Dropping the wooden spoon on the side of the frying pan where I was cooking the eggs, I dropped to my knees and kissed the red marks as you took over my culinary duties with your practised hand, ensuring that our eggs weren't ruined.

"Poor Momma," I whispered, looking up at you from my knees through the valley of your gorgeous cleavage, and licked your marks, paying particular attention to the cluster of moles on your butt than I adored. You swiped at my head.

"No more of that tonight when Connie and Bud comes round, ok?" you said seriously. "I still haven't figured out exactly what I think and feel about Connie but I don't want her suspecting things before I'm ready to tell her what's what on my turns. You know how nosy she is and she can ferret out anything, so, best behaviour tonight, understood?" you said. I raised myself to my feet and nodded seriously.

"I understand Mum," then I grinned. "Mum's the word, I promise!" You squeezed my cock affectionately at my silly pun and then turned back to the scrambled eggs.

After our late lunch/early dinner, we lazed about by the pool reading and swimming but on good behaviour as we didn't know exactly when Connie and Bud might appear. The sun was just beginning to set and bathe the garden in a lovely twilight when they arrived at just gone 7.30. To be honest, I didn't notice what Bud was wearing, why would I? But I did notice Connie, who was dressed to impress - you, no doubt, I reflected with a sense of secret knowledge. She was no Cat, but she was good looking in a harder way than you. She was toned all over, and was showing that off in a straw hat, sunglasses, a white tank top, cut off denim shorts and tight black knee-high boots, but whereas your toning still maintained a feminine softness, hers was harder, not unsexy by any means but less feminine. Her hair was straightened to within an inch of its life and came down, like yours, to just past her shoulder. Her mouth was more generous than yours and her eyes green compared to yours which were blue. Her breasts were enhanced but still just a touch smaller than yours I reckoned while her tan, helped no doubt by the Floridian sun, was a more golden brown than yours. As you may be able to tell, Cat, I was comparing her in every way to you, it was increasingly how I found myself reacting to any woman, comparing them critically to you and finding them wanting. Connie was sexy, few men would deny that she was a milf, but she wasn't you and that was enough for me.

Connie waved an uncorked bottle of white wine towards us as she came up to the pool. "Hi guys," she called out as she approached. "I've brought more supplies." Looking around she spotted Dad's absence. "Where's that husband of your Cat hunny?" she asked in her southern drawl - it wasn't the soft, ladylike affectation of a Blanche Dubois, but a proper southern woman's accent, hard, deep and sexy. "Not working I hope," she said. You looked up and sighed.

"Hello Connie dear," you said softly, "Sadly he is, yes, but several thousand miles away in London. He bailed out at the last minute." I could see Connie's eyes light up at this news - her poker face was rubbish is all I can say.

"Is that so?" she said in a low tone, "Well, more fool him but I see you brought Moore 2.0 with you hunny," she said turning to me with a big smile. "Hiya Tom, you look more handsome every time I see you." I smiled at the compliment and got up to give her a hug and Bud a manly handshake. Turning back to you, a gleam in her eye, she jerked her head in the direction of inside. "Why don't you and I head inside and find some glasses for this stuff and have a little natter," she said pointedly.

"Sure thing Connie," you smiled and got to your feet. You gave a slight wince when you stood up and the tiniest intake of breath as the pain from the spanking reared its head. Did Connie notice I wonder? Not that I saw and not that she was giving away. Maybe her poker face wasn't as bad as all that or maybe she was just too excited at the prospect of getting you all to herself.