Lighting The Blue Touch-Paper

But Sarah came over to my house a few more times, and everything seemed to be OK between them. On one occasion Mum had popped out to the shops, and we'd been kissing on the sofa. One thing had led to another, and I'd undone her blouse and was fondling her big tits.

Suddenly we heard the front door open, and we frantically smoothed ourselves out. She'd just buttoned her blouse back up, when my Mum poked her head around the living room door.

I think she immediately guessed what was happening.

"Sorry, not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked with a hollow laugh.

We knew we'd been busted.

But one day I knew Mum was working late. Dad was away, as usual. I asked Sarah to come over, and this time we were in my bedroom, and it seemed like everything was going well.

Things were getting hot and heavy. She'd undone my trousers. I'd taken her top off. She'd even tried to go down on me, but she said I was too big. I'd undone her jeans, and tickled her cunt. She was very wet.

I thought it was now or never.

"Sarah, do you think we could, you know, do it?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Well, I don't know," she replied. "I've been thinking about it, a lot. And I'd love to. But you know how big you are. I don't want you to do me some damage."

"I'll be gentle, I promise."

God, I was pleading again.

"OK," she agreed, "Let's give it a try..."

We pulled the rest of our clothes off, and we kissed for a long time while I stroked her cunt. She certainly seemed wet enough. I positioned myself between her legs and rubbed my cock head around her opening, getting myself nice and slick. She reached down and re-positioned it, and said, "OK, go on, but slowly..."

I pushed, but nothing seemed to happen. She parted her lips further apart, and I pushed again. My cock head started to edge inside, but she grimaced and flinched, and I froze.

"Are you OK?" I asked cautiously.

"It hurts..." she gasped.

I backed off a little and kissed her some more.

"Can I have another try," I asked, "Gently..."

She nodded.

I pushed again. This time my head slipped just inside. It felt very, very tight. She cried again, "Stop!"

I stopped.

I held myself there, not moving. I didn't want to give up, but she shook her head with tears in her eyes, and said, "I'm sorry Simon, you're too big. It's not going to fit. You're really hurting me. This isn't going to work."

"OK," I said reluctantly. I pulled out, and we lay side by side. My cock was red and throbbing on my stomach.

It was awkward, and we didn't really talk.

She got dressed, and I followed suit. We went downstairs and had a cup of coffee before she left to go home. We didn't argue, but it seemed clear to me that our relationship was unlikely to be going much further.

I was annoyed, frustrated, and getting anxious about the size of my cock. Having a big one didn't seem all it was cracked up to be.

I turned my attention back to Clare, not that it had ever been away from her. Since the MILF conversation with John and Paul, I'd begun to feel that maybe I was not as much of a pervert as I'd feared I might be. I didn't dare ask either of them how serious they'd been about what they'd do in my circumstances. But my extensive research on the internet suggested that it was not entirely unusual for boys to have a thing about their mothers.

I pondered long and hard on how she felt about me. I often saw her watching me, and she would frequently comment about how grown up I was, how tall, how handsome. What a heart-breaker I would be. Was this just a proud mother admiring her son?

I returned the compliments. I didn't have to make them up. She was gorgeous. I couldn't believe how slim she was. How lovely her figure was. Or how young looking she seemed. We went shopping together and I knew she was still a size eight and could fit in clothes she'd kept from years before. The other mothers her age that I knew were not a patch on her.

One of the things that turned me on most about her though was the sight of her nipples through her clothes. They often seemed very prominent, even though she always seemed to be wearing a bra. Her breasts were quite small, but seemed very perky from what I could tell. But her nipples must have been unusually long, and at times poked out really obviously.

She was self-conscious about them. Dad sometimes joked with her. "You've got your high beams on..." he'd say, and she'd go red, shushing him, nodding towards me.

I even tried making the same joke once, when we'd been working in the garden together. She had an old tee shirt on which had faded and shrunk in the wash, and we were sat on the garden bench having a drink together. I'd paid her a compliment about her figure, and she'd obviously been pleased. She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. I noticed that her nipples were poking out.

"You've got your high beams on..." I said.

She stared at me, and went red in the face. She got up quickly and walked away. I knew I'd gone too far.

But it was hard to know where to draw the line.

Once when I kissed her on the neck from behind, she turned round and kissed me on the lips. We held the moment for longer than mothers are supposed to kiss their sons for, but then she'd broken away. We stared at each other, saying nothing.

When Dad was around I had to act as normally as I could, but I wondered if even he thought that something was going on. Things seemed a little strained between them. I have to admit I didn't like to imagine them having sex. Though from what I could tell it didn't seem to happen very often.

One evening I was in the bathroom. I'd been out for a late run, and had got back hot and sweaty. I had a shower and was drying myself when the door swung open and Dad walked in. I must have left it undone.

He saw me, and immediately apologised and started to back out of the room. I saw his eyes drop to my cock, and instead of covering up I just stood there. I guess I was showing off, showing him my manhood, my size. It all happened in an instant, and it was an instinctive reaction on my part. But I stood there, flaunting it.

His mouth dropped open, but he said nothing. He was red in the face, and hurriedly backed out of the room, muttering "Sorry... I didn't know you were in there."

I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself. My cock was swelling and lengthening. That showed him, I thought. I bet I'm bigger than he is.

A couple of weeks later I went out on a "date" with Clare.

We'd been out many times together. We often went to see films and sometimes had a meal. But this time seemed different. She'd been talking for a while about going to a particular restaurant, about ten minutes' walk from our house. It was expensive, but she was keen to go. I said I'd book it, and we'd make it a special evening. I even joked about taking her out on a date.

We spent part of the day shopping. She'd bought a new dress, and I bought a new shirt, and got my hair cut. The dress was gorgeous. It was quite low cut, and made from light weight, clingy material. It hugged her hips and her flat stomach. It was long, hanging right down to her ankles. It wasn't too revealing, but it was very sexy. I grew an instant hard-on when she showed it to me in the dressing room.

Things had seemed to intensify between us in the previous couple of weeks. Much of it seemed to be initiated by her. She came up with even more frequent compliments, kissing me, and telling me she loved me, at least every day.

There were more long lingering looks between us. There was so much going unspoken it was driving me crazy. Sometimes I saw her looking at my crotch. I walked around the house with a hard-on almost all the time she was around, conflicted over whether I should be showing it off or keeping it hidden. Most of the time I went for the safe option, but I'm sure she must have noticed.

I was so worked up I was wanking at least twice a day, my thoughts, dreams and fantasies were full of her.

We walked to the restaurant hand in hand. It was a beautiful meal, though I found it hard to concentrate on the food. Clare was looking stunning in her new dress. I saw several men staring at her, and then at me. Probably thinking how did that young kid manage to pull her?

We had some lovely wine, and Clare was a little tipsy. Unusually she'd begun to question me about my love life, wanting to know why my relationships never seemed to last very long.

Her comments and questions were getting more and more risqué. I was genuinely shocked when she started to ask me about Sarah and how far we'd gone sexually.

Although we were very open with each other and talked freely about almost anything, we'd studiously avoided discussing sex.

I was feeling tongue-tied and embarrassed. I was also getting very hard, and was trying to adjust myself unobtrusively below the table. I could see Clare's nipples were poking out. She seemed pretty turned on too.

She probed and probed about Sarah and what we'd done. In the end I admitted we'd tried to have sex, but it hadn't worked out. She got the wrong end of the stick and made some quip about teenage boys and premature ejaculation, and for some reason I felt I had to defend my manhood at this sleight.

I was dying to say to her that we couldn't do it because my cock was too big. But instead I just mumbled some euphemism about being physically incompatible, and that I'd been hurting her.

I think she got the message in the end.

When we left the restaurant it was raining quite hard and we rushed home, but were soaked. Once inside the house Clare turned on the gas fire and knelt down in front of it, warming herself.

I went and got a towel. In the bathroom I looked in the mirror and made a resolution to myself. It was now or never. I was going to try and make love to my mother. The time had come, and something had to give, for better or worse. I couldn't bear the teasing, tantalising game we'd been playing any longer.

I slipped into the living room with the towel. She was still on her knees in front of the fire. Her hair was damp and her wet dress seemed even clingier than before. In the soft light she looked so beautiful, so desirable. I knelt down behind her and began to stroke her hair with the towel.

She almost seemed to purr, and I leaned forwards and kissed her neck, dropping the towel and slipping my arms around her, my hands on her stomach. I nuzzled her neck breathing in her perfume.

"Oh Simon," she breathed.

I could feel myself shaking. She felt it too and twisted a little to face me.

"Are you cold?" she began to say, but I kissed her on the lips, and this time I was going to kiss her properly. Our lips locked, our tongues began to explore each other's mouths, and we kissed the kiss which had been coming for ages.

Eventually we pealed our lips apart, and knelt there blinking at each other. Waves of emotion were running through me. But I could see doubt start to cloud Clare's eyes.

"Simon, what are we doing?" she whispered fearfully.

I kissed her again and told her we were doing what both of us had wanted to do for a long time. Our bodies fused together. My hands dropped down to her lovely bottom. She seemed to be a willing participant.

I started to pull the zip of her dress down, and she struggled to her feet to help me. The dress fell at her feet and she stood before me in her underwear. It was a moment I will never forget.

All at once she exuded passion and vulnerability. I could see how excited she was, but concern was still written on her face. I looked at the body I had longed for. She was exquisite.

Her powder blue bra and panties were lacy, minimal creations, designed to tease and reveal rather than do anything practical. Her deep breaths swelled her breasts, but it was her nipples I was once again fixated on. The little bra could not begin to contain them. They thrust forwards like fingers. I could see their delicate pink hue through the lacy holes of her bra.

Tearing my eyes away, I scanned the rest of her perfect body. If I didn't know otherwise I'd have guessed she was at least ten years younger than she was. Her ribs were clearly defined and her pale flat stomach had a smattering of freckles and moles. Her tiny panties revealed the dark mystery of what lay beneath. Her legs were long and taught, like a runner's.

I knelt there, in awe, but she pulled me to my feet and I stood before her. I could feel my erection straining at my trousers, but the time for hiding it now was past. Her eyes dropped to my groin, and I could see the surprise on her face. Without looking I knew it probably looked like I had something stuffed down there.

She made some exclamation, but it was her hand I was concentrating on now, as it crept forwards to cup my straining bulk. Her hand edged along my shaft, trying to gently squeeze it through my trousers.

Now it was her that seemed to be in awe.

Not wanting to ease up on the momentum I leaned forwards and unhooked her bra from behind. Amazingly there was no embarrassing fumbling. She helped take it off her shoulders, and now I could see her amazing nipples properly.

They were more than half an inch long and pointing proudly forwards capping her perfect breasts. They were modest in size, but full and outthrust. There was no sign of sagging or blemish.

"On Clare, you are so beautiful," I exclaimed, touching her breasts gently and teasing her incredible nipples. A shudder ran through her. I could see how excited she was now.

I will never forget the first time we made love. To lose my virginity with Clare, the love of my life, was the most special thing that had ever happened to me. She was impressed, but unfazed, by the size of my cock. She reassured me with loving words, and swept all my fears away.

She gave me such love, and I gave her everything I could in return. There was not a moment of doubt in my mind, and she seemed to have set aside the guilt of our forbidden relationship. We were so much in love together. How could anything about it be wrong?

Afterwards we showered together, and played about some more, and then she took me to her bed and we made love again. It was more passionate, more unbridled this time. She played the part of a sex kitten. I mounted her from behind and relished the feeling of my cock ploughing in and out of her tight channel. She came out with some surprisingly course language.

The next morning we awoke in each other's arms. I wondered if there would be some awkwardness, some embarrassment, or worse some regret. But there was none. We showered again together and of course the inevitable happened. I couldn't keep my hands off her body, and she was soon fondling me.

We stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over our towels in our haste. But then to my surprise, she stopped me. She had a wicked smile on her face.

"I've got a naughty idea," she said, grinning, "Do you want to play a little game?"

I nodded, and I think my cock, straining away down below, was nodding too.

She sat down in the arm chair, and regarded me for a moment. "Let's pretend I'm your teacher, your biology teacher..."

I had a sudden vision of Dr White, my overweight, grey haired biology teacher, and almost lost my erection.

"... I think it's time for an anatomy class."

She leaned back in the chair, and slowly and deliberately opened her legs widely.

"Come here, Simon..."

I stepped towards her, taking it all in. She was my mother, but transformed. It seemed like a moment of awakening, like I was looking at her for the first time and despite all those fantasies, and even despite last night, that I was seeing this mature beauty as she really was.

Yes in a harsh light you could see some lines on her face, but they added character, wisdom and maturity. Here in her natural, naked state she was confident, and in control.

She was also the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. Her beautiful face, her dark hair still wet from the shower, and her lean, taut body almost glistening in the subdued light of the bedroom. Her small breasts were perfect for her frame, and her toned legs were lolling wide apart in a pose I'd certainly never seen from her, or indeed any woman, before. And then there were her nipples.

Between her legs, her carefully trimmed cunt was open like a gorgeous flower.

She gently took her finger and ran it along her slit up to her clit.

"Come here," she repeated, "I want you to take a good close look..."

I knelt down in front of her, sitting back on my heels, my hard cock rubbing against my stomach.

She opened her lips a little wider with her fingers, and gently rubbed her clit.

"This is my clitoris," she said, "It's very sensitive, and it's where I get most of my sexual pleasure from..."

She reached out and took my hand, pulling it forward until my finger began to stroke it.

I leaned closer, inhaling the warm smell of her sex.

"I used to wonder why it was on the outside, because it seemed that when I made love, it was slightly in the wrong position," she breathed, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

"But I had a little revelation last night..."

"Oh?" I asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well you are so thick, that every time you went in and out, you were rubbing along my clit. It was an amazing feeling..."

She reached out again and ran her fingers along the top of my cock.

"All along here, you were rubbing it... it drove me wild..."

I stroked her a little more as she ran her fingers up and down my cock.

"Here," she said, "Put your finger inside me... gently... turn your wrist, and rub along the roof inside – yes there..."

I was doing as she asked.

"That's my G spot.... That's another really sensitive area... and somewhere else which was getting the benefit of your girth, and this big knob on the end," she laughed... "Girth... Oh, that's a great word!"

I rubbed my finger around a noticeable mound, feeling the ribbed bumps which covered its surface. She shivered in pleasure.

"And this is my labia," she added, indicating the loose fleshy lips which framed her opening. They were red and engorged. "Feel free to explore..."

I stroked her gently, and then leant down and smelled her deeply. Her warm, musky scent was mixed with the soap from the shower. I extended my tongue cautiously and tasted her. It seemed like a slightly acidic taste, but pleasant and very sexy.

"Pheromones..." she whispered, "How we females call our males..."

I licked her up and down, delving deeper with my tongue, lapping at her juices. On upward strokes I let my tongue flick over her clit, as her gasps began to increase.

"You're doing that wonderfully..." she groaned, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," I muttered, my mouth full.

"Not all men do."

"Then they're fools."

I pushed my tongue deeper into her, burying my face in her pubes. She groaned louder, and for several minutes I licked, and sucked, and snuffled, all the time her cries getting a little louder. I circled her clit with my tongue, one moment softly, the next a little harder. I sucked its little pea-sized hard surface, and I reached around her hips with my arms and hugged her ever closer to my probing tongue.

Clare's hands ran through my hair as her hips began to buck, and her thighs tightened around my head. I could tell that she was starting to cum, her warm nectar flowing more and more as I drank in her essence. She suddenly jerked back my head off her cunt quite roughly as she writhed on the chair, groaning unintelligibly, her eyes tight shut.

I sat back and watched her in her ecstasy, wiping my wet face.

After a couple of minutes her eyes opened, and she looked at me with love in her eyes.

"Oh, you learned that well, my love," she breathed softly.

I smiled, not sure what I should say to that.

"Come here," she said, opening her arms, and I fell into them and we hugged each other close, my head lying on her chest, my body between her legs. We lay like that for a long time as I listened to the sound of her breathing, and her heart beating through her chest.