Lighting The Blue Touch-Paper

She stroked the back of my head and down my back.

"Oh I could lie like this for ever," she breathed, "But I can feel something rather hard digging into me."

I pulled back, "Sorry, am I hurting you?"

"Oh no... on the contrary..." she smiled. "I just meant that maybe you'd like to move onto the next stage in today's lesson."

"OK," I smiled broadly. "If you say so..."

"Thought you might..."

She reached out and wrapped her hand around my cock, pulling it towards her opening. The head nuzzled into it cautiously.

"I'm very wet," she said quietly, "But you're very large, so you need to push in very gently... move it about a bit, get it nice and wet... yes... like that..."

I could feel the warmth, the tightness, and the pressure gripping me.

"There, just pause once you've got a bit of it inside... let me get used to it."

I could feel her starting to relax, and the pressure eased off a little.

"As you know, your size will be a help and a hindrance," she continued softly, "Some women won't even try to do this, and some won't be able to even if they try. You'll just have to get used to the idea that you will have to be very gentle, very slow, and very patient, until she tells you otherwise."

"It's a gift, for sure, but it will cause you problems too. You understand that don't you?"

I nodded.

"Now push in a little more, but keep pausing. Let the woman adjust..."

I followed her instructions, sinking deeper into her, in slow stages. The hot wet friction was exquisite.

"How does it feel for you?" I asked.

"It feels wonderful. I feel so full, so stretched, but in a good way. You remember what I told you about my clit?"

I looked down between our bodies.

"Look at how your cock is sliding along it. It's a long time since I had that feeling."

"Clare, how come you can take me so easily?"

"I don't know if easy is quite the right word, but I've had quite a lot of practice you know."

"Have you now?" I said, interested.

"Well, there were others before your father, you know. Like David - I never quite know what to call him – you know, your biological father."

I pushed in a little more. There was perhaps three inches or so to go.

"Go all the way," she breathed.

I sank deeper into her, until our hips began to meet.

"There," she gasped, "Now hold me... just hold me."

We were joined as one, and I slipped my arms around her back and hugged her close. We kissed deeply, open mouthed, our tongues exploring each other. When we weren't kissing I buried my face in her hair, and all the time I could feel my cock throbbing deep inside her.

"David – was he like me?"

"What, you mean well endowed?"

I nodded.

"Yes, he was. He was very big. That's what I meant when I said it had been a long time since I'd had that feeling."

I kissed her again.

"So I guess that's where you get it from. I think you might be a bit bigger though, if I'm not mistaken."

I smiled, despite myself.

"You are a bit competitive, aren't you?"

I nodded. She could read me well. We kissed some more.

"You're so deep inside me," she whispered, "I can feel you swelling,"

"I think I could actually cum, without moving," I said, surprised at how excited I was becoming.

"Then just try it," she said, "Just keep flexing. I can feel the big head pulsing."

I tensed myself, swelling my cock in a slow rhythmic pattern.

Clare's groans were growing, as were mine.

"Now just start moving a little," she said, so I pulled it in and out very slowly, moving just a few inches at a time. As my shaft emerged it was wet and shining with her fluids.

"Oh Simon, I love you so much,"

"I love you Clare... love you ...

It didn't get frantic. We stayed calm and we carried on our long slow synchronised movements, and all the time the sensations seemed to heighten without us getting all hot and bothered. We kissed almost constantly, and I stayed buried deep inside her, moving in small increments, my cock swelling and pulsing in time with her movements.

I don't know how long we lasted but I know it was a long time, and when we finally built to our climax it wasn't dramatic or full of shrieks and squeals. But it was tender and full of love, and felt very special. It was a special memory I returned to many times later.

Dad was due home later that evening, so by afternoon we felt we were up against a deadline. We didn't talk specifically about how to play it when he got back, but I took it as read that we would go back to our "normal" mother-son relationship, at least until he went away again, whenever that would be. I was wondering how I would cope.

We made love once more in the early afternoon, and then set about trying to clean up the evidence. We washed the bed sheets, which were in a disgraceful state by then, and cleaned the bathroom. We made sure there were no incriminating items of clothing lying around.

By the time Dad got home, we were sat in the living room, trying to act as normally as possible. It wasn't easy. Clare would keep giving me little looks. After a difficult conversation about what we'd supposedly been up to while he was away, I made my excuses and left, going out to see my friend Paul.

Part of me wanted to tell Paul what had happened, to share these incredible events with somebody, but of course I didn't.

The next three weeks were very difficult. Dad was home most of the time. In fact he took time off from work, and having him around the house with Clare and I treading on egg shells was tough. In fact, we were trying so hard not to be in each other's pockets, that he thought maybe we'd had some sort of row.

Clare whispered to me one evening when we had a few minutes together, that he'd been asking if everything was OK between us, because we were normally so inseparable.

I was in a state of almost perpetual horny frustration. I was sharing the house with this gorgeous woman, and we were lovers. But she was completely out of bounds. I was also torturing myself with thoughts of her and Dad together.

To take my mind off things I took a temporary job at a local garden centre. It got me out of the house in the day-time at least. It was the long break between school and university, so I had lots of time on my hands.

One night Clare slipped into my room. Dad had gone into the office late that evening for some paperwork. He'd only be away for an hour. I'd gone to bed early to deal once again with my frustrated hard-on, and was just about to get started, when Clare slipped in through the door.

She was wearing a flimsy night robe, and appeared to have nothing on underneath it. She stood by the door, striking a pose, a naughty look on her face. And then from behind her back she produced a cloth tape measure.

"Ta da!" she said, letting it unfurl.

"What are you doing Clare?" I asked. I was sitting on the bed in my pyjamas.

"I've been thinking about you all the time," she said, "It's been so frustrating..."

"Tell me about it..."

"And I keep thinking about... you know..." She glanced towards my crotch...."Your thing..."

"My thing?"

"I keep thinking, is it really as big as you said it was? Were you exaggerating a little bit? Did I imagine it?" Her voice was teasing and coquettish.

I smiled but said nothing. I was starting to anticipate what might be coming.

"So I thought I might see for myself," she went on, brandishing the tape measure.

"I thought you might need a little encouragement," she added, her other hand toying with the sash on her robe, "But it doesn't look like you need it."

I didn't. I was very erect. I stood up and pulled off my pyjamas.

"I wouldn't mind some encouragement all the same," I said, nodding at her robe.

"OK," she said, with a giggle, and pulled the sash, and opened her robe. She had her little panties on, but was topless. She thrust out her ribs, displaying her beautiful breasts.

My hands went straight to them, but she quickly brushed them away.

"OK, enough, no touching," she said, telling me to sit back. She applied the tape measure to the top of my cock, rolling it out, and gave a little whistle. "You weren't lying, you big boy," she said, "It's actually bigger than nine inches. I'd say about nine and a half. I didn't think it could be possible ..."

I kissed her, but she pushed me away again.

"Much as I'm dying to, my love, we can't. Roger will be home any minute. I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity..."

She stood up and re-fastened her robe.

"But what about me?" I gasped, sitting there, my cock reaching for the heavens.

"You can do what I suspect you were about to do anyway," she laughed, waving her right hand in the air, her finger and thumb forming a circle.

"Or in your case, more like this," she added, with a laugh, holding her finger and thumb about an inch apart.

And with that she sashayed out of my room. I sat there thinking "What a minx!" But I did follow her advice.

Dad told us he was going abroad again in a few days' time. My spirits began to rise. I kept up my temporary job, but I was counting down the hours until we were alone again. Clare seemed to be doing the same, from the secret little moments we snatched together.

The day finally came, and Dad went off to Copenhagen. I was working again during the day, and I was completely distracted, and probably pretty useless, until the time came to go home. I rushed back in a state of lust.

Had any nineteen year old boy ever ran home to his mother before in such a state of sexual excitement?

I walked in, but there was no-one to be seen. I rushed round the house calling her name, but the place seemed empty. I padded up the stairs and poked my head into their bedroom. The curtains were drawn, and candles had been placed around the room. It looked very romantic.

"I'm in here," Clare said, her back to the door. She was brushing her hair facing the mirror.

"On my God, look at you," I breathed.

She turned to face me and stood up. She was wearing her sexy little robe, but instead of the normal sash, it was tied with a big red ribbon in a bow.

"I bought you a little present," she said, gesturing at the red bow, "You've been such a good boy, waiting patiently."

I stepped forwards and reached out for the bow. "You're such a beautiful present. Can I open it?"

"Yes,"

I pulled at the bow and undid it, and slipped my hands under her robe. We kissed deeply. I could feel her underwear. I slipped her robe off her shoulders, and my hands travelled down her warm back.

She stepped back, staring at me with an intense look in her eyes. She was wearing a

matching set of sexy underwear, carefully chosen to allure.

"Beautiful..." I breathed.

I pulled at my shirt and undid the buttons, almost tearing it off, and then did the same with my trousers. I pulled my socks and then my pants off, and then bent to pick up the red ribbon off the floor. Turning away from her, I tied it in a bow around my hardening cock, and then turned back to face her.

"And here's your present," I said with a grin.

She laughed, and reached behind her, undoing her bra and taking it off. I could see the desire in her eyes. She pulled at the ribbon, and dropped it on the floor. The time for games was quickly over. She was urgent and demanding as she kissed me. I slipped my right hand down the front of her panties and my finger dipped into her soaking slit. She gasped.

Clare pulled me back towards the bed. "I can't wait any longer," she said, almost panting now, "Just take me. Ravish me... fuck me."

She pulled down her panties, and we fell onto the bed in a heap with her grabbing at my cock, pulling it to her cunt, placing its head in her warm receptive space. I pushed and I was inside with ease. She gave a long drawn out groan of satisfaction as I slid into her in one continuous movement.

Already she was jerking her hips, urging me on, and we quickly rutting like animals. "Harder, harder," she cried. Her gasps and shouts were unbridled. Streams of the filthiest language poured from her mouth. At another time I would have been stunned, but not then. My levels of excitement were building so rapidly I thought this could not possibly last much longer.

In our exertions we travelled across the bed, sheets and pillows being swept aside. Clare's head was hanging over the edge. It was probably uncomfortable but she didn't show it. Her sinews strained and her body was taut in ecstasy. My cock was racing in and out, glorying in the sucking tightness of her.

With more expletives, she was coming, her fluids suddenly gushing almost as if she'd wet herself. Her body jerked like a fish out of water. I was moments behind as the cum surged from somewhere deep within me in a rush that felt like it would never end.

The strength drained away from my arms and legs which had been supporting my weight above her, and I collapsed, my big body covering hers. Our hearts were clammering through our chests at each other.

"God, I needed that," she gasped, "I needed a good shagging. You gave me one."

We lay still for a little while longer, my face buried in her neck. I became aware that I was probably crushing her. I pulled myself up on my elbows, and looked down at her, flexing myself deep inside.

"Are you still hard?" she gasped, "You still feel huge inside me."

"Yes," I said, surprised at myself, "I guess I can't get enough of you."

"Go on then," she urged, "Give me some more, you great big stud."

"OK I will, you sexy bitch!"

We laughed and I pulled back slowly and resumed my in out movements, only much slower this time. Our fluids made it very wet. I was pulling out as far as I could, and making long, steady penetrations, using the maximum possible length. Our mixed cum was bubbling down my balls and between her legs, making an obscene sloshing noise, soaking the bed.

"Oh, my great... big... horse-hung.... Son..." she was muttering.... "You certainly know how to screw your mummy."

I was bumping against her cervix with each slow thrust. Clare's excitement was building again quickly. We moved together in unison, our pace beginning to increase.

"Incredible..." she was gasping... "You're going to make me cum again..."

Her cries built, the wordless noises breaking forth, not caring about the volume, and with glorious abandon she came again in a rush of groans, gasps, and whimpers.

It took me longer this time, but as she calmed, I resumed again with a methodical pace until with relief I came too. It was much smaller in volume than before.

The evening passed in similar fashion. We had sex twice more before going to sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning. Clare wondered aloud if we should go for some sort of sex record, and for the next few days that's exactly what we did.

Whether we were making up for lost time, or cementing our love through repeated and obsessive mating I don't know. But we were completely insatiable, moving through the house from one room to another, marking our sexual territory like dogs.

Dad phoned at one point in the week, saying he wouldn't be back until early the following week. Of course I was delighted, but privately wondered if I could continue the sexual pace until then. I don't know how Clare managed it. I thought my cock might fall off through over-use.

By the Friday of that week, we finally resolved to leave the house, and went out for a meal together. We were back home, getting ready for bed in the bathroom, when Clare began once again to play the little game she'd dubbed "Mr Horsey".

***

Chapter Four: The Conclusion

Roger sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Confusion reigned. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach, as he contemplated losing his wife. But he couldn't deny his own excitement. It had been the most intense and stimulating sexual experience he'd ever experienced, but also the most disturbing. Even now, as the images of them flashed through his mind, he could feel himself hardening again.

He felt angry and threatened by Simon, but when he put himself in his shoes he could begin to understand how this terrible state of affairs had happened. Who wouldn't be tempted by someone like Clare? And despite himself he felt respect for Simon's obvious sexual prowess, and he could see how Clare had fallen for him.

But they were mother and son! It was unthinkable, to say nothing of how immoral and illegal it was. But was it really so unthinkable? After all, he'd thought of it already, several times, and had appalled himself at how this disgusting fetish had excited him so profoundly.

More than anything, though, he was fearful for their marriage. It was a shattering moment for him, as he contemplated how he'd taken Clare for granted, how he'd allowed their relationship to drift, and how he'd failed to give her the love and passion she needed.

If he'd been a better husband maybe none of this would have happened, he told himself. But at the same time he knew that she was also to blame, and she was the one who'd broken her marriage vows.

But even so he was desperate to make amends. Could he, knowing what he knew? Could they really re-kindle the passion, when she had those obvious feelings for their son, of all people? He couldn't bear the thought of walking out, but should he insist that they stop sleeping with each other, or allow it to continue in some sort of twisted ménage a trois?

With a thousand questions, and no answers, his hand automatically moved to the phone in his pocket. He selected her number and dialled it. The second or two before it connected seemed to stretch.

Upstairs, the ring-tone sounded. It rang again, and there was a flurry of noise, muttered voices, and movement in the bedroom above. He could picture her searching through the debris of the room for the phone.

"Hello? Roger? Are you OK? It's a bit late..."

"I'm downstairs," he said simply and quietly, and hung up the phone.

There was a shocked exclamation from upstairs, and he could hear the muffled voices, the hasty sound of urgent alarm. There was a creak from the bed, as someone sat down heavily on it. Then it went strangely quiet upstairs

Roger sat at the table, not daring to think any more.

Eventually he heard cautious steps on the stairs. They were single steps, and light. It was Clare, coming down to face him. He steeled himself, for what?

Clare walked into the kitchen. She was wearing her robe, and had her arms folded tightly across her front. It looked like she'd brushed her hair. There was none of the wild abandon from before.

"Roger," she said, and paused...

He was silent.

"I guess... I guess you saw us, together?" she said.

"Yes," he said.

"I don't know how to explain..." she began. Tears were welling in her eyes, and instinctively he stood up, scraping back the chair, and stepped towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Her sobs heaved on his chest, her tears wetting his shirt. He held her there as her shoulders crumpled, letting the shame, the guilt, and the fear wash out of her.

Roger sat her down at the table, and took the seat opposite. They stared at each other. She wiped away her tears. "What are we going to do?" she asked simply.

"Do you love him?" he asked, "As a lover?"

She nodded.

"Do you love me?"

She nodded.

"What a mess..." he said with a sigh. She nodded again.

"What are we going to do then?"

She shrugged.

"I love you," he said, "I might not be good at showing it sometimes... but I don't want to lose you."

She stared at the table.

"Can you be without him?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Look, now is probably not the right time to talk about this. I might say something now that I regret. But I want some sort of explanation... tomorrow. You go back upstairs. I'll sleep in the spare room."

"Back to him?" she asked, surprise in her voice.