My Neurotic Mother

"Have you ever been with a woman?" she asked in a soft voice.

Being both naive and inexperienced I didn't know what to say (indeed I wasn't entirely sure what she meant).

"I've had a couple of girlfriends ..." I offered, my mouth dry and croaky.

"And you've been with them?"

Still uncertain I said nothing.

"I mean have you slept with them?" Mother said slightly impatiently.

Shocked by her directness I simply shook my head.

"I see," she whispered. "So you don't know much about women?" She smiled at me as she said this.

Again I just shook my head.

"But you fantasise I suppose? Play with yourself while thinking about girls?"

This was too much. I was immediately embarrassed and looked away. How could she ask something me like that. Suddenly I just wanted to escape.

Mother laughed with a sort of joyful merriment. "Don't be embarrassed Michael. All little boys do it. It's quite normal and nothing to be ashamed about."

She reached over and took my hand, lifted it up and placed it on her knee, under the nylon gown. "Does that feel nice?" she said still smiling broadly.

I turned back to her, still mortified by what she'd said, but also excited at where she had put my hand.

"You like stockings don't you?" she whispered. Then she drew my hand upwards till my fingers were touching the suspenders links on her stockings.

I'm sure she could tell from the sudden wonder in my eyes that I did. However I was remained anxious and uncertain, and I didn't move my hand or try to feel her leg.

Still holding my hand over her stocking tops she leant close to my ear and whispered so softly I wasn't sure I was hearing right.

"Is it stockings you like," she murmured. "Or is it just mummy's stockings?"

Even though the anxiety and uncertainty and excitement was clouding my brain I recognised the importance of this question. I knew clearly what she wanted to hear.

"It's you Mummy," I croaked. "Just you."

"Oh my beautiful baby," she cried, and pulled me over and pushed my head against her chest. "Mummy loves you too baby! Mummy loves you too!"

Then she lifted my head back up and looked straight into my eyes. "You want to touch me," She whispered. "Feel my legs... run your hands up and down mummy's stockings?"

I nodded, and my hand began to explore the feel of the nylon on her thigh. It moved around in a circular motion, my fingers occasionally scrapping against her suspenders. Then I slipped my hand over her stocking tops and touched the bare skin above. It felt magical and unbelievably erotic. My fingers moved to feel the suspender clips holding her stockings, and then slid downwards to momentarily brush her the area between her legs.

As I did this her hand landed on my thigh, and she leaned forward and whispered to me again. "Do my stockings make my little boy hard?"

Without waiting for an answer her fingers brushed up against my rock-hard cock and I could hear her sigh. Then, as I continued to explore and absorb the feel of her legs, her hand moved and moulded itself over my cock, slowly embracing it and curling her fingers, as best she could through my jeans, all around my rampant beast. But as her hand gripped and began to move slowly up and down, it was all too much for me. With a grunt and a jerk I simply could not stop myself from ejaculating into my pants.

I pulled away in horror. "Oh my God I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I said in a panicky voice, watching a dark wet stain slowing growing under her hand at the front of my jeans.

"It's ok," she said smiling, but not moving her hand from over my penis. "You're young and all this must be very exciting for you. Don't fret yourself."

Finally she lifted her hand and indicated towards the hall. "Go on," she said. "Go and sort yourself out." I got up and made hurriedly for the bathroom. But as I was going I looked back, and saw with surprised mother lift up her hand to her nose and sniff the dampness on her fingers.

In the bathroom I washed myself and then stuffed both my underpants and jeans into the washing basket. I covered myself with a towel and went out. For a moment I wasn't sure what to do or where to go. My head was spinning and I think I felt more embarrassed than anything else, but I was also thrilled and excited by what had just happened. As I came back into the hall I heard mother call to me.

"Go to bed dear. I'll pop in and say goodnight in a while."

I turned and headed back to my room.

IV

Once in my bedroom I got undressed. Mother had indicated she would be coming in later to 'say goodnight', and I wondered whether to get naked in my bed or put my pyjamas on. I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and climbed into my pyjamas. I slipped into bed and lay there wondering what, if anything, was going to happen next. I was still awed by the fact my own mother had touched my cock. Ok I hadn't lasted very long (that's a bit of an understatement), but the fact is she had actually started to masturbate me. She'd let me feel her stockings and then played with me! I mean what more could a young man ask of his mother? I knew full well, even if nothing more ever happened, that was a very high point in my life (well my sex life anyway).

It was some 30 minutes later that mother came to my room. She knocked at the door (which surprised me), entered and came over to my bed. To my dismay the see-through gown was gone and the old cloth dressing down was back. She sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at me with a strange, rather sad, expression.

"I've come to apologise," she began. "I can't believe how I took advantage of you. You're a young man with raging hormones and it's only natural for you to look at a woman's underwear, but I allowed your natural interest to stir and awaken my own frustrations. It's a terrible thing I've done and I only hope to God I haven't damaged you in some way."

"No, no..." I stuttered. "It's not a problem I didn't mind mother, honest." I had a sudden vision of all my fantasies for the future disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"I know you don't mind," she went on. "But you don't really understand what I've done. I've engaged in an incestual relationship with my own son. Not only is it morally wrong and illegal, but it will warp your natural development. You should be out enjoying yourself with young women, not with old women, and certainly not with you mother!"

"But mom I wanted to... to be with you. It's ok really. In fact it was great."

Mother smiled a weak watery smile. "I understand that it excited you sexually, of course it did, but it is very wrong, evil even, for a mother to seduce her own son. I am appalled by my own actions. After all you have done for me... being here to help me, putting up with all my awful moods, and never complaining, and now I have used you to fulfil my own lustful needs. Don't you see what I have started and how much you will have to pay in later life for my... my selfish desires."

"But I wanted it," I said again, desperately trying to save a situation I'd dreamt about for so long from disappearing over the horizon.

"I know dear," mother whispered, patting my head." But I woke your sexuality and misdirected into something bad and entirely inappropriate. That I could do such a thing is beyond belief, and I will never forgive myself. The truth is since your dad died I've found it hard to cope with life. I've been angry with the world and everyone in it, and I guess I've taken it out on you; mostly because you're the only one around; the only one I have left. But now... now I've tried to use you to replace a part of my life I miss very much."

She sat there looking at me with a look of sorrow and misery on her face. "I think you know what I mean. But using my own son to excite my long-dead desires is... well it is a shameful thing to do."

I was devastated by this sudden change of heart, and my mind raced, frantically searching for some way out, some argument I could use to change her mind and stop this unexpected catastrophe from ruining all my hopes. I'd dreamed about having a relationship with my mother for so long, and now my dreams and fantasies were running away like water down the drain.

Then it hit me. The answer was not some fiendishly clever ploy or plot to convince her everything was alright. No, maybe the answer was to finally tell her the truth.

"Now listen mom," I said taking her hand. "I have a confession to make. This is not about what you've done at all, this is about me and what I've done."

She looked at me questioningly.

"I've been obsessed with you for a long time now. In fact I've been trying and trying to think of a way I could get close to you. What happened wasn't the result of what you did at all. I've been loving you and lusting after you for over a year now. What happened today was the answer to my prayer, a fulfilment of my greatest fantasy."

She looked at me in surprise. "But why?" she said softly. "Why would you want an old woman like me?"

"Well," I began, "I guess I've seen for some time now how unhappy you are and I wanted to help. I thought about helping you find a new partner, but then I realised it would make me jealous (ok, so I was stretching things a bit). I realised how much I loved you and I wanted you for my own. But I couldn't tell you, I was too afraid. I never thought you would understand, so I've been living with these desires for a long time now, and I guess they must have become more visible than I intended."

Mother looked at me almost in wonder. She appeared to be trying to take in what I was saying.

"I know it's wrong," I said, "but I can't help it. More than anything in the world I want to be with you. None of this is your fault. You didn't do anything except respond to how I was feeling... how I am feeling. I love you mother and I want you so much."

"But," she paused. "It will damage you if I... if we do anything."

"No," I said. "Any damage of the kind you mean was already done a long time ago. I did it to myself. What's more that damage will remain and have a long lasting effect on my life. There is only one way to prevent that from happening."

I think she knew what I was going to say but there was doubt in her eyes. Luckily for me (if you remember) I'd already worked my way through this situation in my fantasies, so I knew just what to say.

"If I have a relationship with you, then that part of me will be fulfilled. I will then eventually move on, grow and develop, and become a normal man who once had a wonderful secret he shared with his mother. But if things stop now I will be unfulfilled, and part of me will be always be wanting something I can never have. That is the real danger... where the real damage would be done."

Ok so I'd given it my best shot. For a while there I think I even convinced myself. But the real question was, had I convinced my miserable old mother to hit the sack with her randy son?

She looked at me thoughtfully for a long time, as if she was going through my argument in her mind.

V

There was only a small bedside light glowing dimly in my bedroom, and it made the room seem small and intimate, like mother and I were encased in a kind of warm and shimmering bubble, far away from the noise and bustle and problems of the real world. She was looking at me, and I at her, but both of us were seeing the other in a new way. Walls has come down, and for a moment I could feel just how much she wanted to hold me, and I guess she could feel just how much I wanted to touch her. That kind of honest longing is hard to resist... whatever the consequences.

Then, to my eternal joy, mother slipped off her dressing gown and pulled my head down to her bosom. I snuggled in to her for a moment, then I lifted my head and both my hands slid up and encased her bra covered breasts and gently fondled them. The bra was white and padded and very sharply pointed, and my fingers tingled and twitched as I groped at the material. She made no attempt to stop me. Instead she reached around behind her back and unfastened her bra. As she pulled it away, I suddenly discovered my hands were full of the soft warm ample flesh of her naked tits. They weren't huge, but they filled my palms in a way that was infinitely satisfying. I bent back down and took one of her nipples in my mouth. It was long and hard and dark, like some mountain peak, and I suckled it as if I was still her baby. She sighed ever so gently.

She had been sitting on the side of my bed, and even as I was tweaking her nipple with my tongue, she lifted herself up a fraction and pulled back the bedcovers. I felt her tugging at my pyjama cord, and then dragging down my pyjama bottoms. My mouth left her breast and I lay back in the bed. I think I expected her to begin to touch my penis, fondle it or something, or maybe even lay on top of me. But what happened next left me surprised and shocked. Her left hand took hold of my rock hard cock and stood it upright, then she bent down, and her mouth opened wide and entirely engulfed my penis. As I watched my not insubstantial cock disappear entirely, I confess for one brief moment I thought she was going to bite it off!

Then her lips and tongue embraced me gently in a soft velvet purse, and her mouth rippled and flowed and massaged my penis, and firecrackers stared to go off in my head. I'd never felt anything like it in my life. It was smooth and soft: it was gentle and loving: it was warm and caring. It felt like she making love to my penis with her tongue (which of course she was), but the words 'making love' suddenly meant something different. I guess before they'd always meant 'sex', and 'sex' had always meant a sort of lustful rush to climax. But this was so different. There was no rush here, no hurried journey to some pre-destined place, no mountain-top that had to be reached. I guess it's hard to explain in words. (If you've been there you know what I mean, if not, then go there!). She was loving me with her mouth, what else can I say.

As I lay there, taking in an entirely new set of feelings and experiences, my growing desire was not just to get more of the same (and make this go on forever), but to try and give back some of what was being freely given to me. I thought I loved my mother, but now I wanted to learn how to make love to her.

But then the sheer lustful pleasure of what she was doing to my cock overtook everything else, and I knew I was going to cum again. I tried to warn her, to pull back and away. "I'm cumming mummy," I whispered, assuming she would lift her head and stop. But she didn't. Instead her head pushed down forcing me deeper into her mouth, and at the same time she sucked harder and rougher at my cock. With a moan of infinite pleasure I thrust my bottom upwards and ejaculated deep in her mouth.

She gobbled and sucked at my penis swallowing as much of my fluid as she could. Then she lifted her head and smiled at me. I watched in awe and fascination as dribbles of white string leaked from the corners of her mouth and hung down like baubles on a Christmas tree. She lifted back bits of dripping cum with her fingers and returned them back into her mouth. I was stunned, shocked even, as I watched her avidly devouring my semen. I think that was my first real lesson of what it was like to be with a mature sexually liberated women. After rubbing her face clean with an arm of her dressing gown, mother took my hand and pulled me up out of bed. "This bed is too small," she said softly. Then she led me across the hall into her bedroom.

She stood me by her big double bed and slowly stripped me naked. She seemed take pleasure in my nakedness, touching me here and there and running her fingers over my body. Then she stepped back and slipped off her dressing gown. We looked admiringly at each other bodies for a moment. Her breasts hung slightly but not enough to be unattractive. Likewise her tummy was rounded but not fat. To me, seeing her this way, was my fantasy come true. She was attractive, exciting, damn sexy, and in my opinion she was also beautiful.

"Undress me," she whispered, "but you can leave my nylons on if you want." She was smiling at me with a cute come-hither smile that I'd never seen before. She stood there calmly waiting, so I bent down and slowly and carefully removed her panties. As I pulled them down and she stepped out, my face was level with her sex. It was covered in lightly coloured hairs, and gave off a strange but not unattractive odour. I leant forward to kiss it, and as I did so her hands dropped down behind my head and gently pushed my mouth closer. I snuggled my face in for a moment to the mystical area between her legs. It was warm and damp and curiously alluring, but at that time I had no clear idea what to do. Back then I knew virtually nothing about female anatomy. Then she released me and I stood up.

I confess I was hopelessly out of my depth. I had no idea exactly what was going to happen next or what I should do. I think my uncertainty and sheer naivety must have showed in my face because mother lent forward and gently kissed my lips. "Relax," she said softly, "mummy will teach you all you need to know." Then she lay me down on the top of her bed.

"First," she whispered, "we need to get this little beast back to attention." She knelt down beside the bed and without another word took my limp cock back in mouth. Being the age I was it didn't take long for my 'Percy' to respond in the desired manner. Even though I was quickly hard again she continued suck me rhythmically for some time. Eventually she lifted her head and leant forward to kiss me. It started as a gentle kiss, but then her tongue forced it's way into my mouth and suddenly she was kissing passionately. I could taste and smell the scent of my cock and my semen on her mouth, and I found myself responding to her with equal passion.

I confess my memory of things start to blur at that point. I think I was starting to loose myself in a way I didn't understand. I have brief images rather than detailed memories. I remember how mother's eyes looked as we broke the kiss. They were hazy and far away, as if she was drifting to another place. She looked drunk (but that's not really the right word) and lost in some kind of mystical joy. I remember her climbing on top of me and inserting my penis up inside herself, and how that made me feel. She moved up and down slowly at first, but then faster and faster like a cowboy riding a bronco, and I felt myself responding instinctively to her rhythm.

As we made love she would occasionally lean forward and whisper words of love, telling me how wonderful I was and how much she really cared for me. At other moments she would lean back upright and squeeze her legs together and ride me for all she was worth. And then quite suddenly her body seemed to go rigid and she cried out as if in terrible pain or ultimate joy. She squeezed me so hard at one point I felt as if she were trying to crush me. Then she fell forward on to my chest and showered me with endless kisses.

As you may well imagine things changed after that night. Eventually we moved in together and our relationship continued for another 15 years, before my mother sadly died. I guess there are a lot of questions to ask about how having regular sex with my own mother affected me... and her. Well all I am going to say now, is that it did me no harm. Indeed it taught me so much about women, in a safe secure environment (if you know what I mean), and led me eventually to a new happy relationship.

As for Mother, well her neurotic behaviour ceased. Indeed the only time she got angry was when I was too shy to share with her my sexual fantasies... or let her act them out for me.

THE END