Lighting The Blue Touch-Paper

Not only was I creating fantasies in my mind about Clare and Simon. But now I could actually visualise their naked bodies coupled together. And as I thought about how well-endowed Simon clearly was, I knew I could not compete.

What was it – penis envy? He was younger than me, fitter and stronger than me, better looking than me. And you know what they say about the recuperative powers of young men. I felt pretty inadequate, but also, at the same time, turned on... then disgusted... then turned on again. Freud would have had a field day with me.

But the Siren kept beckoning, and I became obsessed with discovering the truth. How would I do it? I thought about installing secret cameras in the house, to catch them when I was away, but it seemed like a terrible invasion of their privacy. I thought about hiring a private detective, but that seemed melodramatic, and besides the last thing I wanted to do was to allow someone else from outside the family to discover the truth.

Of course I could have just confronted Clare and asked her what was going on. But what if I was wrong? What would an accusation like that do to our marriage, however carefully I phrased the suggestion? On the odd occasion that I'd made the odd tame remark about how "close" they were, she'd never taken it very well.

All I could think about was to watch them myself, when they thought I was away. But I prevaricated about it for weeks. If they caught me and nothing was happening, it would take some explaining. If I caught them, well, what would I do then? That bit I didn't want to think through to its logical end.

The opportunity came when I was away on a trip again. Funnily enough I was back in Copenhagen, finishing off the building project there. It was over-running and I thought I would have to stay longer. I'd told Clare about it in a phone call earlier that week, and said I'd try to be back by the beginning of the following week. As it happened though our Danish partners convinced me they could handle the delay and suggested I go home and take the weekend off.

So I flew home to London, and deliberately didn't tell them I was on my way.

As I took a taxi to our house, my heart was pounding. The images of them together were flying through my mind, and I couldn't work out what I wanted to see. Lust, coupled with jealousy, coupled with fear, coupled with some sort of perverse death wish, all ran though my head in a conflicting mess. But my body gave the game away. I was hard as a rock for most of the journey.

The taxi dropped me off around the corner. It was 11pm on a Friday night. I'd planned to sneak round to the back of the house and let myself in by the back door. If I was caught I'd try to pass it off as a surprise. I'd even bought a big present with me as a surprise gift.

I entered the house, and everything seemed quiet. The lights were off downstairs, and I crept through the house in the darkness. I avoided the creaky stairs, and headed up. My heart was now pounding so hard it seemed to be the noisiest thing around.

At the top of the stairs I could see the bedside light was on in our bedroom. Simon's room was in darkness. I could hear low voices coming through the open door, and I knew I'd be able to see inside the bedroom from the darkness of the hallway, because we had a large floor to ceiling mirror opposite the door.

I looked inside but at first I could see nothing. I could still hear the voices, clearer now, but they must have been in the en-suite bathroom.

"I think you should do the work this time..." Simon was saying in a joking tone of voice.

"What do you mean? Are you trying to say I'm not pulling my weight?" Clare retorted. I could picture her pouting, her hands on her hips, in mock indignation.

"What I mean is, I want you to go on top this time..." he said, his voice now a low growl.

A shudder ran through me, as I realised what he was saying. I was hardening again, rapidly.

"Oh you're so forceful, my darling..." she continued to tease. "Haven't you become so commanding?"

"You taught me everything I know."

"I know... and I love what you know, and how you've learned it."

There was a muffled noise and I guessed they were kissing.

"I'll definitely give you an A+" she said.

There were more kissing noises.

My heart was pounding, and my stomach was churning, but I still could see nothing, as I craned to see their reflection. But then they came into vision, walking from the bathroom into the bedroom.

They were both naked. I saw Clare first, her long nipples leading the way. She was holding his hand, pulling him behind her to the bed. Simon's body was blocked by hers. She turned, rose up on her toes to kiss him, and said "Go on then, Mr Horsey. Let me have a ride."

He jumped onto the bed and pulled the pillows up behind him. Now I could see him clearly. And I almost gasped out loud at what I saw.

Of course I knew he was well-endowed. I'd seen as much that day in the bathroom. But as he sat there with his huge cock rearing up towards his chest, completely erect, it didn't seem physically possible. Was it some sort of weird distortion from the mirror?

It seemed completely out of proportion with even his well-built body. Its girth looked unreal, and its length impossible. The broad head was resting on his stomach a long way above his navel.

Clare seemed to voice my thoughts. "I still can't get over the size of you," she said, "No matter how many times I've seen it now."

She sat on his lap, blocking my view. Her hands were busy in front of her. "Where does it all go when you're inside me?" she asked in a whisper.

"You're going to have to lie down if I'm going to sit on this monster," she said. "I'm not that tall..."

He scooted down the bed between her legs, and she moved down with him. His cock was now lying on his stomach, and she hovered over him, and grabbed its broad head, rubbing it up and down her wet slit.

Both Clare and Simon gave a deep groan at the same time, and then giggled at their joint reaction.

I could see her juices glistening on his cock, as she slid up and down its length, his cock travelling smoothly along her wet groove. And then she raised herself up higher, positioning the big head at the entrance to her cunt.

"Ohhh," she groaned as she lowered herself an inch or two. Her face was serious now.

She paused, leaning down, and they kissed for a moment, before she re-started her long journey down. I was fascinated, and somewhat horrified to see how her body seemed to absorb the enormous invader. Its broad width was clearly stretching her channel far apart. I could see how taut her skin was around her entrance. Slowly, slowly, she edged down. Where indeed was it all going?

Minutes passed, as she lifted herself up and down, gaining a little ground on each downward stroke. Her groans were getting louder, and Simon was groaning too.

Eventually Clare seemed to settle, and sat on his legs. I could no longer see his shaft. His balls must have been between her legs. She paused again, and kissed him lovingly.

"You great big horsey," she said, "You stallion..."

"And you must be Lady Godiva," Simon said with a smile. He sat himself up, and leaned forwards, hugging her to him, and began to kiss her breasts, greedily sucking each long nipple into his mouth in turn. "No wonder all the crowds want to turn out to see you. Look at you; you're a Gorgeous Goddess, with the longest nipples in Christendom."

"Oh I think it's this big stallion they've come to see," she replied, "With his great big horsey cock. Everyone wants what Lady Godiva's got..."

"And believe me, it belongs to Lady Godiva. And no-one but you, Clare," he said urgently, and their mouths fused together into a long, face-eating kiss.

"Well, I did create it, after all," she said, when they surfaced.

She began to rise up, and then down, taking five or six inches on each stroke. Her groans ran into each other, becoming wordless noises. Simon was tongue lashing her heaving breasts, and rubbing her nipples with his fingers.

The sight was incredible. I'd never seen anything sexier. A beautiful woman, her tight body in the heights of sexual fervour, her incredible nipples pointing proudly, her eyes tight shut, her mouth hanging open, riding her handsome stud, with his oversized cock, as it ploughed in and out of her.

As her cries grew louder she pitched forwards, and her hair hung down over his face, her rhythm becoming jerkier and less coordinated. He was grunting and groaning.

"Simon," she gasped, "Simon... ohhh..."

It was an incredible sight, but it was also a very disturbing one. Or at least my reaction to it was disturbing. I was hard as a rock, very turned on, but devastated at what I was witnessing at the same time. My worst fears, and my perverted fantasies had both come true in one shattering moment.

With a long groan, she settled back down, her legs shaking. Her movements slowed, and with a deep cry slumped down on top of him, pushing his body down flat on the bed. Her hair was across his face. They seemed to be frantically kissing. I could see him thrusting gently with his hips.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, in the battle between my head and my dick, my dick won. I unzipped my trousers, and began to wank myself. It only took a few touches to cum. Long before they reached their climax, my useless seed was dripping down the door frame.

"Come on, then," she said, after she'd lain prone on him for some time. "You can ride me now..."

She rolled off and they flipped over with practiced ease. I saw that his cock stayed lodged inside her as they moved. And then he began to slowly saw in and out. With agonising slowness, he seemed to be using almost all his incredible length, as his hips raised high in the air, to plunge down again as if in slow motion.

He pulled her legs up under him, and held them wide apart with his arms, her knees waving near his shoulders.

Again I could see his thick shaft stretching her wide apart. But he was moving in and out with ease, her fluids clearly bubbling out over his heavy balls, dripping down onto the bed, and her mewling cries had begun again.

Like some sort of maestro, he brought her to another crashing orgasm, and paused, still lodged deep inside, allowing her to thrash her way through it. He let her legs flop down flat on the bed.

With her cries finally subsiding, they lay still together. I could see him tightening his buttocks from time to time.

"Does that thing ever go down?" she gasped.

"Not when you're around..."

And then, inexorably, he began his long backwards and forwards motion all over again.

"Darling, I'm getting close again," she gasped, after a few minutes, "But you've got to cum this time. I can't take much more of this."

"OK..." he muttered, and as if on cue, their movements heightened together, stepping up a gear, and the volume of each of them got louder, until with great gasps and cries and noises, they both came together.

The bed stopped its shuddering and creaking. Satisfied silence fell over the room, making me realise just how much noise they'd been making, and their breathing slowly returned to normal, as he lay between her legs, his face nuzzled into her neck.

In the shadows I took out a handkerchief and wiped up my sperm. I zipped myself up and tip-toed downstairs, shell-shocked. What was I going to do now?

***

Chapter Three: Simon's story

Probably the first time I considered that I was not as twisted as I thought I might be, was when two of my friends and I were lounging around in my bedroom. John and Paul were arguing about who was the hottest MILF they knew. I made a couple of suggestions. One of them was an English teacher at school. But then Paul turned to me.

"I know who's definitely the hottest MILF around..." he said

"OK, who?" I asked with a laugh.

"Your Mum..." he said, with a flourish.

"Yeah," agreed John. They were both looking at me for my reaction.

I tried to play it cool.

"Well, do you agree?" Paul asked.

"Well, look, she's my mum," I said, stalling, "I don't look at her like that..."

"Oh come on," retorted John, "She's hot..."

"Don't pretend you haven't noticed," Paul added, "If she was my Mum, I'd be leaving copies of Oedipus Rex lying around. Hint Hint!"

"You're not serious?" I asked, trying to sound horrified. But my stomach was in knots.

"Yeah, I'm serious..." Paul said, "I've read about that kind of stuff online. I think it's hot."

He paused. We were both staring at him now. I think he realised he'd gone a bit far.

There was a moment's confusion, and then he laughed, thumping me on the arm. "Come on you big lug, I was just joking..."

"But," he added, nudging John for effect, "You know what they say..."

John clicked, and they both joined in, laughing, chanting together:

"Incest is best... incest is best..."

Later that night I lay in bed thinking again about my mum, Clare. Paul had got it spot on, though I hoped he hadn't realised it. I'd fancied her for ages. My boyish appreciation of her good looks had long since spilled over into yearning. I was learning what it was like to love someone who was completely unapproachable.

I'd done everything I could do to distract myself. I was pretty shy around girls, but I'd forced myself to get a girlfriend. I finally plucked up the courage to ask Mandy, a class-mate, out on a date. She'd happily accepted, and we'd gone out to see a film.

More films, and a couple of meals followed, and I thought we were doing pretty well. She was pretty and clever and good company. My confidence was improving and I thought perhaps it was time to move beyond the snatched kisses in the dark of the cinema.

We were sitting together in my Mum's car. It was late evening and we'd driven out to a parking spot by a nearby lake. We were kissing, and for the first time plucked up the courage to fondle her breasts through her jumper.

She seemed fine about it, much to my relief, and in fact started to reciprocate my actions.

Mandy's hand slipped down to my lap, but then stiffened, as she came into contact with the bulge of my hard cock for the first time.

I could feel her hand edging along it, gently squeezing.

She pulled her lips away.

"What have we got here Simon?" she asked, with a shy smile.

"Well..." I began to say.

"It feels very big..."

"You can get it out if you want," I said, trying to stay calm.

"OK..." she said, trying to pull down the zip, "I'd like to have a look, at least."

I helped her undo the belt and the button, and wriggling my hips, I pulled my jeans down below my bottom.

She pulled my underpants out and fished her hand inside.

"Oh my God," she said, as she gripped my shaft and hauled it out.

"Is this for real?"

"Yes," I said, "It is pretty big isn't it?"

I wasn't sure whether to be proud, or humble.

"It's not 'pretty big'... it's enormous!"

Her hand was resting on it, but not moving. She seemed unsure, and frankly scared.

"You can stroke it if you like," I said.

Her hand stayed where it was. I leaned forward to kiss her and put my hand back on her breast. But she stiffened, and pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Simon," she said, "I don't want to go any further."

"Why not?" My heart was sinking.

"I'm scared," she said. Her voice was quiet. "I don't have a lot of experience at this, and you're so big. I think you might hurt me, you know, if we carried on."

"I wouldn't, you know, hurt you. I'd be really gentle."

I know I was starting to sound pathetic.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head.

"Listen, I really like you," she added, "But I'm not ready for this."

"OK, don't worry." I said, trying to wriggle my jeans back on. I forced myself back inside, and pulled up the zip with difficulty, feeling dejected.

A similar thing happened another time with a different girl, and for a while I was pretty fed up about what I kept hidden inside my pants. Of course I knew it was big. I'd become very self-conscious about it when one or two boys made snide comments in the changing rooms at school.

As soon as I was able to stop doing sports, I did so.

I measured its progress regularly. I was both thrilled and concerned at the same time. Within the space of about six months it grew about half an inch. At the same time my height shot up by several inches, and by the age of eighteen I was six foot three.

I read lots of porn stories on the internet, and told myself that I wasn't so unusual, judging by the number featuring men with big cocks. But I was unsure whether it was a blessing or a curse.

I seemed to stop growing by the time I turned nineteen. I was one of the oldest in my year, and my birthday fell in September. Admiring myself in the mirror in my bedroom one day, I whipped out my ruler once more and applied it along the top of my cock.

The very tip of the fat head was past the nine-inch mark, with the other end of the ruler up against my groin. I was going through a positive phase and I felt proud of myself, and in no time my trusty best friend, my right hand, brought me to a spectacular climax, my cum flying liberally across the bedroom.

All this time, I was mooning around Mum like a lost sheep. Yes I fancied her. But I also loved her. I loved her like I could imagine loving no one else. I loved her intelligence, her confidence, her humour. I loved her smell and I loved her body. And I loved the fact that she loved me.

I felt so relaxed in her company, and we spent loads of time together. I was a real mummy's boy, but I didn't care what anyone else thought about it. We talked long into the night about almost everything – almost. I never felt I could tell her about my problems with girls, and she didn't ask. This was perhaps the only area we avoided.

But I practiced my moves on her. She didn't seem to mind. We'd always been touchy feely and from a young age I'd kissed her hello, goodnight etc. Now I was making a point of kissing her as often as I thought I could get away with.

I loved her warm touch, and in the evenings we'd cuddle on the sofa, watching films. Or I'd tip toe up behind her when she wasn't looking and wrap my arms around her. I'd even kissed her neck once or twice, breathing in her perfume, as she sighed in quiet contentment.

To an outsider all this would have looked pretty odd. To us I think it seemed fairly normal, though of course I knew it was not. Did it go beyond a very affectionate mother-son relationship? No I don't think so. But I was very confused about what it all meant, if anything, and we were careful to keep it hidden inside the house.

But the next stage in my quest to get laid led me to a girl who was a year older than me. Sarah had left school the year before and was taking a year off before going to university. An older woman, I thought crudely, might be up for it.

I'd also heard on the grapevine that she'd slept with a couple of boys at school. I didn't know if the rumours were true, but I thought it was worth a try. And besides she was very pretty.

I bumped into her one day at the local shopping mall. I knew her a little and we got talking. She was wearing a tight tee shirt which showed off her big tits. She was tall, like me, and we seemed to get along well together. We sat in a coffee bar, and even before I could ask her out on a date, she asked me.

We went out a few times, and we even progressed to a few heavy fondling sessions. She was clearly impressed by the size of my cock, and while it hadn't gone beyond the mutual masturbation stage, I felt we were on the right track.

I even took her home to meet my Mum. Clare was polite and chatty with her, but I sensed a certain tension from her. Later, when I asked her what she thought of Sarah, the best she could do was to say that she seemed nice, through somewhat tight lips.