Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 03

Dave replied that he did enjoy cycling, but that he was really more interested in watersports.

"Are you into watersports?" he asked her.

"Not really," mum replied in all innocence, "I'm not a very good swimmer."

Dave burst out laughing. "That's not really what I meant," he managed to say.

Mum gave him a puzzled look.

Dave looked as though he'd come to a decision. "Let's sit down," he said, "There's a couple of vacant seats over there. Then I'll explain."

Mum said she almost took the opportunity to go the Ladies, but decided that being seated might ease her discomfort. In fact she discovered to her dismay that the weight of all the food and beer in her stomach actually increased the pressure on her bladder in a sitting position, and she almost winced as she sat down on the bench seat. Moreover, Dave had contrived to put her in a corner, so she couldn't get out without disturbing him.

"So," Dave began, "The watersports I'm talking about includes a variety of sins, but it's basically to do with people who enjoy peeing over each other."

Now mum said that she had heard about this, but was rather taken aback to find herself sitting right next to someone who presumably practised it.

As mum hadn't walked off in disgust, Dave decided to elaborate: "Some people like doing it to others," he continued, "Usually members of the opposite sex. Some like it being done to them. But most like both giving and receiving."

Mum told me she knew she ought to be feeling revolted by this, but curiosity had got the better of her.

"So do you like people peeing all over you?" she asked him, and Dave confirmed that he did.

"Some people even like drinking it," he told her. Now mum pulled a face.

"It's OK," Dave hastened to add, "It doesn't do you any harm, urine is sterile."

"What does it taste like?" mum couldn't help asking.

"Bit difficult to describe," Dave replied, "Slightly musty, you might call it, and a bit salty, but not unpleasant. At least I don't think so."

Mum looked at him in surprise. "Too much information," she said.

But Dave was warming to his subject, saying:

"Some of us like to have sex with a really full bladder, as we find it intensifies the pleasure, and the women often pee at the moment of orgasm, which feels just brilliant. Then again, some watersports fans have competitions, to find out who has the biggest bladder capacity, or who can pee furthest. Others like to see how long they can hold onto their pee, and some will deliberately put themselves in a situation where they won't have the opportunity to pee, even though they really need to."

Mum told me she realised that this was exactly what she had been doing, as although she could have gone to the toilet at any time, she had held on until she was absolutely bursting. She tried to tell herself that this was because she didn't want to appear rude by interrupting their conversation, but she knew that wasn't the whole story. It was a kind of almost reckless behaviour which she found compulsively exciting.

Dave must have been reading her thoughts and said: "You must be incredibly full after all that beer, I can tell you've been nursing a swollen bladder for ages. And now I've got you trapped in the corner there," he added mischievously.

Mum gave an embarrassed giggle, and said that he must be bursting as well. Dave confirmed that he was, but said that he found it easier to hold on when he had an erection, "As you may have noticed," he added.

Mum sniggered again, and said that she didn't have that facility.

Then she said that she was sorry but that she really was going to have to relieve herself soon before she lost control.

"Let's see how you're doing, first," Dave said as he placed his hand on the base of her belly and pressed his fingers exactly where her distended bladder was at its most sensitive. Mum gasped and squirmed beneath his touch.

"Well, well," he said appreciatively, "You really are full, aren't you. You feel as hard as iron down there."

Mum said that she must have been looking really uncomfortable and anxious by now. Dave read the pained expression on her face and got up so she could go to the toilet, taking the opportunity himself as well.

When they rejoined, Dave asked mum what time she was supposed to be meeting whoever it was. Mum had been so absorbed in her companion that she had quite forgotten about her fictitious meeting, but after a moments hesitation while she collected her thoughts she made a show of checking her watch and told him that she would have to be going.

"It's been really nice chatting to you," mum told him. "And very educational," she added.

Dave handed her a scrap of paper, saying: "If you fancy meeting up again for a few drinks, do give me a call. At least you now know what to expect."

Mum wasn't quite sure how to interpret that, but she thanked him, and said she would think about it. She gave him a quick kiss, and went out to catch the bus home.

It was clear to me that mum was becoming much less self conscious, despite her continuing doubts about her looks and weight, and that her more confident and outgoing manner had the virtue of making her more attractive and approachable.

"I could tell as soon as you answered the phone that you were feeling far more positive," I told her, and now I know why. I think you've made amazing progress this week; getting another job, socialising in the evenings, and then going out on your own."

"Well, it's certainly been great to get out more," mum said, "But I must have drunk more beer in the last four days than in the last four months."

"You'll be getting a beer belly if you carry on like that," I told her, laughing.

"Don't say that," mum replied in alarm, "My tummy's fat enough as it is."

"Only kidding," I told her, "You get out and enjoy yourself, you deserve a bit of fun, you've been lonely for too long. And in any case, I reminded her, if you're out drinking beer, you're not sat at home pigging yourself on crisps and chocolate."

"That's true," mum said brightly, "And it is a lot more fun than staring at the telly."

"So when are you going to come and see your favourite milf again?" mum wanted to know, changing the subject.

"Oh, I'll have to see what I can arrange," I said

"Don't leave it too long," mum said, teasingly, "Or I might have to find another toyboy."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," I said, "I'll be in touch."

And with that we said our goodbyes and hung up.

The following weekend I rang as usual, and of course I asked mum how the barmaid's job at the pub was going.

"Great," she said. "It's money for old rope for the first couple of hours, it's so quiet, but there's usually someone to talk to, which is nice."

"And is Lothario still bothering you?" I asked.

"Oh yes," said mum happily, "He can't keep his hands off me, but he's harmless really."

"And are you still stopping on after you finish your shift?" I wanted to know.

"Well, yes," mum said, "There always seems to be someone who wants to have a drink with me, the customers there are a nice sociable crowd."

"That's good," I said.

"Well, yes and no," mum said.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, I was hoping the money I earned would go towards some new clothes and other things," mum said, "But I end up putting quite a bit of it straight back in the till. Mind you I still get more drinks bought for me than I have to buy."

"But you still manage to save some money, don't you?" I queried.

"Oh yes," mum confirmed, "I don't pour it all straight down my throat."

"That's all right then," I said.

"I suppose so," mum replied, "I keep meaning to cut down a bit, but I always seem to end up drinking too much."

"How much are you drinking?" I couldn't help asking.

Mum hesitated. "It must be about 4 or 5 pints a night. It's beginning to feel quite normal to go to work (at the supermarket) the next morning feeling slightly the worse for wear."

I couldn't help laughing. "Well, you're certainly not the stay-at-home shrinking violet that you were a few short weeks ago."

"And did you wear your shiny leggings again on the Friday?" I asked.

"Oh, I had to," mum said.

"How come?" I said.

"Well, the landlord said he would stop my wages if I didn't," mum replied.

"Does he fancy you as well, then?" I asked.

"It was a joke," mum said, "He just thinks it's good for business."

I asked mum if she had gone out on the Saturday again.

Mum said that she had decided to have a night in. One of the regulars had been celebrating a promotion on the Friday, and splashing the cash. And mum said that it would have been rude to refuse the drinks offered, so she had drunk even more than usual, stayed later than she had intended, didn't get to bed until about midnight, and had to get up at 6 the next morning. So by the time she had finished her supermarket shift she was shattered, and decided to stay in and watch a film on TV.

At this time I did have a girlfriend of my own. I wouldn't call it a serious relationship, but we seemed to knock along all right, and the sex was pretty good. At 35, she was 10 years older than me, not a stunning looker, but as you will have probably guessed, delightfully voluptuous, and comfortable with it. You should see her in a bikini... We usually met up on Friday nights, and hang out together until the Sunday evening. Every 2 or 3 weeks she would go off Sunday morning to her family for lunch, and those were the times I would go and visit mum.

I was hoping to be able to go and see mum again the following weekend, but my girlfriend didn't go and see her folks on the Sunday as I was expecting, because they were away on holiday. Mum was disappointed, but I promised to phone on the Sunday. As usual, I asked how she had been getting on. She said that the barmaid's job was still going great, but was worried that she must be putting on more weight.

"What makes you think that?" I asked her.

"Because for the past 2 weeks they've been offering me a pudding as well as a main course, so I've been going to the pub a bit earlier so that I don't have to rush it all before I start work," mum replied.

"And what sort of leftovers do they dish up for you," I asked.

"Oh, it's usually a good sized portion of some sort of pie, a selection of veg, and loads of chips," mum said.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd have room for a pudding after that lot," I commented.

"But it's such good value," mum reasoned, "They only charge me a pound, so it seems a shame to turn it down, and you know how much I like a nice pudding."

"What do they give you for afters?" I asked.

"It's usually a fruit crumble, bread and butter pudding, or something like that, and I seem to get double portions if they've got plenty left over."

"You must be stuffed," I said.

"Oh, I am," mum confirmed, "And I'm now having 2 pints to wash it all down with. My tummy looks more bloated than ever, it's a good job my leggings are very stretchy."

"Is that a good idea having 2 pints before a 4 hour shift?" I queried.

"Well, I do go to the toilet before I start work," mum said, "But by about 5 o'clock I'm always pretty full, and I've still got another 2 hours to go. Actually," mum confided, with a giggle, "It feels rather naughty, knowing that I've got to hold on for another 2 hours, serving the drinks and being nice to the customers, whilst all the time I'm carrying a full bladder. Especially when sex-pest comes on duty, he'd tease me mercilessly if he knew I was busting for a pee."

"I wish I was there to see it," I said, "It's turning me on just imagining it."

"You ought to get a Friday off sometime," mum said, "Then you could come over and watch me at work, joshing with the regulars, pretending you don't know me, but knowing how full of pee I am. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I certainly would," I agreed, "But I can't see me managing a Friday. But let me know if they ever ask you to work a Saturday, I'd certainly try and get over then."

"OK," mum said.

"So are you still boosting the brewery profits each evening?" I asked

"That's one way of putting it," mum said. "Though I never imagined that I would ever become such a beer drinker. I still keep promising myself that I'll cut down a bit and only stop on a couple of hours, but I always seem to end up having a belly-full."

"And you've already had 2 pints at lunchtime," I reminded her.

"I know, I'm getting into really bad habits," mum said, though she didn't sound in the least concerned.

I asked her if she'd gone out on the Saturday as well. Mum replied that she hadn't intended to, but she had caught up on her sleep for a few hours when she got back from the supermarket, and then thought; sod it, why not. Mum said she decided to put on her clingy blue dress again.

"You can still get into it, then?" I asked.

"Don't be so cheeky," mum said, "I'm not that big, I just stretch it even more than I used to. Mind you," she continued, "I've given up trying to squeeze into any of my jeans now, I might just as well get rid of them."

"You're not planning to go on a diet then?" I said.

"You've got to be joking," mum exclaimed, "My calorie intake must be off the scale with all the beer I'm drinking at the moment."

"So why don't you wear those lycra leggings I bought you instead?" I suggested.

"And go around with my belly hanging out!" mum protested.

"That's what I like about them," I pointed out. "Besides, you could always wear a top that's long enough to cover your tummy, if it bothers you that much."

"I suppose so," mum conceded, "And they do feel reasonably comfortable, considering they are a size too small."

Anyway, to resume our story, mum had caught the bus into town, and went to the same pub she had been in two weeks ago for a meal. Whilst she was eating, a woman came over and asked if mum minded if she joined her. There were other tables vacant, but the woman said that she didn't like sitting on her own, because men always assumed that you were looking for a pick up. Mum said she was welcome to. So the woman sat down opposite. Like mum, she was packing a few extra pounds, but was a bit younger than mum, and a bit prettier, but she was really good company, and mum immediately warmed to her. Her name was Rachel.

By the end of her meal, mum had finished her second large glass of wine, and Rachel immediately offered to buy mum another. But mum was intrigued to know what Rachel was drinking, as it looked like red wine in a pint glass. Rachel said it was called Snakebite & Black, a mixture of cider and lager with a dash of blackcurrant.

"That sounds nice," mum said.

"I'll get you one," Rachel said, "I'm sure you'll like it."

When she returned with their drinks, she sat down next to mum on the bench seat.

"Oh, that is good," mum said with feeling, as she savoured the taste.

"That's the only problem with it," Rachel cautioned, "Cider and beer is a bit of a toxic combination, and it's so drinkable you can down it in no time, if you don't pace yourself."

"I'll have to remember that," mum said.

"Trust me, you won't," Rachel said, laughing.

Rachel had been making small talk, but gradually steered the conversation round to more personal matters, eliciting the information that mum was divorced, had no boyfriend, and even that mum hadn't had sex since she had separated from my dad.

"I've been single for a few years," Rachel was saying.

Mum looked surprised, saying that men must find her attractive.

"Oh, I've had plenty of offers," Rachel said, though in a regretful rather than a boastful way, "But it's not that easy to meet the right person, and the sort of men you find in pubs and clubs are usually only interested in one thing." Mum agreed.

"Not that I'm averse to a good fucking," Rachel elaborated, "But it would be nice to be looked upon as something more than just a superior substitute for a wank, or another conquest to brag about with your mates."

The conversation continued to flow easily, mainly comparing notes on men and their shortcomings, until mum picked up her glass to discover that she had emptied it. By now mum was starting to feel the effects, but she felt obliged to buy a round in return, and in any case she was enjoying the company. Mum stumbled a little as she rose from the table to go to the bar.

"See what I mean," Rachel said, "The snake's biting already."

Mum laughed and bought two more for them.

She told me that as they were talking, she couldn't help noticing Rachel's boobs, now that she was viewing them in profile, advantageously packaged in a tight sweater.

Mum was rapidly losing her inhibitions, and found herself saying: "You have lovely boobs."

"Thank you," Rachel said with sincerity, looking straight at mum with a lift of the eyebrows. "I've always been quite well endowed. I used to be rather self-conscious about them, but I've learned to make the most of what you've got."

"I wish mine were a bit bigger, like yours," mum said.

"You've nothing to be ashamed of," Rachel responded, "Especially in that clingy dress."

"Do you think so," mum said delightedly. "I used to be smaller up top, but I've put on a bit of weight since my separation. The trouble is, it's gone to my tummy as well, as you can see."

"You're lucky," Rachel said. "Most women who put on weight put it all on round the middle, and their bust stays much the same size. But you are beautifully proportioned."

"That's what my son says," mum said.

"Does he?" Rachel said with heightened interest.

Rachel then started asking all about me, mum evidently singing my praises, saying how loving and supportive I was. Mum even began to wonder if Rachel was thinking of me as a possible partner, but mum was having none of that, and made sure she mentioned that I had a girlfriend.

By now their drinks were nearly finished, and mum was really feeling quite drunk, which must have been obvious to Rachel, who was saying: "I wish there were more decent blokes like your son around. Mind you," she continued, "You can have a lot of fun without a bloke."

Mum looked at her questioningly. "What, with toys and stuff, you mean."

"Well, yes," said Rachel, "But you can also have a lot of fun with another woman."

Mum wasn't sure how to respond to this, but she told me she wasn't as taken back as she might have expected, partly due to the alcohol inside her, but also because she was starting to feel a strange but comforting sense of intimacy with Rachel.

"Have you ever been with another woman?" Rachel was asking.

"No," mum admitted.

"I hadn't until fairly recently," Rachel confided, "But I got rather drunk at a party. I had been going on and on about what bastards men were etc with this rather sexy lady in a ridiculously brief cocktail dress, and to cut a long story short we ended up in bed together. Does that shock you?"

"Er, no," mum replied, after the briefest hesitation.

"So what was it like?" she found herself asking

Rachel smiled to herself at the recollection. "It was amazing," she said. "The feel of another woman's body was so sensuous, and her caresses were so much gentler than a man's. Well, most men, anyway. And the touch of another woman's tongue on my clit was just incredible."

As Rachel relived the experience, mum told me she was actually becoming quite aroused.

"You should try it sometime," Rachel said finally.

"Mmm," mum said dreamily.

Talking quietly, their faces had been very close together, so it was quite easy for Rachel to move in for a gentle kiss. Mum told me it had got to the stage where she was almost expecting it, maybe even hoping for it, and she was more than happy to return it.

"So how did that feel?" Rachel asked.

"Very nice," mum admitted. "I'm not saying I'd want to do it with any woman, but with you it felt lovely."