My 'Working' Mother

I was gazing steadfastly at the print, seeing the room behind it in my mind's eye, when I suddenly realised that all down the left hand edge was a long brass hinge, of the type that you find on piano lids. It was pretty obvious, even to me, that with a hinge at one side the picture must swing out, and so I gently pulled at the opposite edge.

A magnetic catch gave way and the picture silently and easily swung away from the wall, revealing, not the wallpaper, but a dark window into the next room, corresponding, I realised, with a mirror on the wall over the head of the bed. The room was fitted with a two way mirror so that anyone here could see what was going on in Liz's boudoir. And I could. She was on her hands and knees being humped doggy style by a young dark-haired man.

Even though I knew what was going on before I opened the mirror/window, it was still a hell of a shock to suddenly see my own mother having sex with him, kneeling facing straight towards me, except that luckily she was looking back over her shoulder at her client -- I nearly said lover, but that would be wrong, he was a college student and a paying customer and I had to keep that in my mind.

Whatever he was, he was certainly energetic, slamming himself into her, his eyes rolled back and his face pointing skywards. I had obviously caught them just as he was gathering for that final sprint to the end; his white knuckled hands gripping her hips and his pelvis thrusting back and forth at full speed. She was bracing herself against his onslaught, looking back and calling encouragement, waiting for him to finish.

Then he was there, I heard his growl as he pulled her back onto his cock and ground himself into her, pushing hard with each gush of his cum. I stood watching, torn between being turned on by seeing two people having sex right before my eyes, and being disgusted and embarrassed for who it was. But I couldn't take my eyes from the scene, even when my cock began to respond, uncurling in my trousers and making me even more uncomfortable, physically and mentally.

The student curled up over her back as his climax faded, and then pulled out, his cock slimy and shining from a mixture of their two juices. I looked at it for a moment and then I suddenly realised something. She'd let him have her without protection, how stupid could that be? Now I was no expert on prostitutes but I was pretty damn sure that they made their customers use condoms. I was still gaping at them in total disbelief when he pulled his trousers on and let himself out, leaving her wiping at his cum that was still running down the inside of her legs.

I quietly closed the mirror and sat back down, trying to understand what I'd seen, and I was still like that when Liz -- my dearly beloved mother, for whom I'd summoned so much sympathy -- went through to the shower. She looked at me a little strangely, but went past without comment.

"Are you all right?" She asked when she came back, wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe.

"Yes." I replied pointedly. "I am."

She cocked her head to the side and awaited my explanation.

"Don't you worry about pregnancy? Or aids, or whatever other diseases are making the rounds right now?" I asked her.

"And why are you asking me this?" She asked in reply.

"Why don't you make them wear something?"

She looked at me bewildered, and then her eyes shot to the picture as she suddenly understood.

"You've been watching."

It wasn't a question, or even a reprimand. Just a simple statement of fact, and I nodded, staring forlornly at the floor.

"It's taken me until now to find my mother." I told her miserably. "I don't want to lose her again."

She sat herself down on the chair facing mine and took a deep breath; her eyebrows lifting in that time honoured 'oh well, here goes' manner.

"Right. I'd better explain a few things. If you're prepared to have more than your ears open?"

I knew what she meant. Could I keep an open mind? I thought I could and I agreed in a whisper.

"Okay then. First, that mirror. I had that put in when I had the house converted because I had every intention of hiring a maid, you know, a woman to look after the place, and to meet and greet the customers, as well as acting my security, like a kind of walking rape alarm if anything went wrong. But I just never found the right person, and now I guess you're the security bit. Now you've found it I guess you'll be watching every chance you get, if I know young men. Well, I can't stop you without covering it up, and that would defeat its purpose now I've got you as my safeguard. So watch if you want to, and if it gives you a buzz I'm sure you know what to do about that."

She was, I realised, giving me permission to watch her and have a wank over what I saw.

"As for them 'wearing something', as you put it, I can't get pregnant anymore because of an abortion I had a few years ago. It wasn't a legal termination, my 'manager' arranged it and it went wrong. But then, that's what happens to whores isn't it?"

I was shocked and about to criticize her for killing my sibling, and my mouth had already begun to open, but the bitterness in her voice made realise that it wasn't through her own choice, and I tactfully closed my mouth and let her continue.

"Now, I'm telling you things I shouldn't, things that are not really any of your business, but you're my son and so have more rights than most, and I just hope you're mature enough to understand what I'm saying. You see I don't have a partner, Andy. I don't have anyone to make love to me and satisfy my needs. It would be nice to have someone to do things to me for my sake, my enjoyment, but I don't, and one thing I missed for a long time was having a man come inside me so that I could feel his sperm flooding into me. So, certain regular customers, who all have regular tests and bring me the results letters to prove their health, are allowed to fuck me bareback. They think it's great and I get at least some pleasure."

"Oh." I said, trying speechlessly to absorb what she had told me.

I thought about it for a minute or so, and then I asked the obvious question.

"Why don't you get a boyfriend? You're not exactly ugly."

"Because it would be a man, and I can't trust men." The bitterness was still evident.

I rolled that one around my mind briefly before commenting.

"Thanks! I'm a man."

"Yes, but you're different. You're family."

"Liz." I lapsed into a short awkward silence. "I'm sorry I spied on you."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. In a way I'm glad you've found it, because you can keep an eye on me now and I'll feel safer." She smiled almost sheepishly. "And I suspect I might get a thrill from giving you one, so long as you can cope with whatever you might see."

We sent out for a pizza and divided it between us, leaving the subject alone while we ate. Then, when the time for her last appointment of the day came closer she changed back into her working clothes, the black and red colour scheme still predominant, this time as a silk blouse and leather skirt. The bell rang and she pulled herself from her chair to go and answer it.

"If you want to watch, make sure you keep the light level down in here, or you might get spotted through the glass."

With those instructions she was gone, and I was on my feet to turn off the light and pull out the picture. After all, it seemed that she was actively encouraging me to spy on her and her client and, even if she was my mother, I wasn't about to turn that chance down. It was a doubly taboo kind of voyeurism but the prospect still gave me a buzz.

Her customer this time was a small skinny guy with bleached blonde hair, and this time she did make him wear a condom, in fact she put it on for him -- with her mouth! That brought me up short. I'd vaguely heard of that being done, but I'd only half believed it, and now I saw Liz -- my mother -- do it to a customer. My eyes were being opened rather rapidly.

They did it in the missionary position, and he didn't last long, squeezing his eyes shut and filling the reservoir of the condom within seconds of starting. He never uttered a sound, only a kind of sibilant sigh when he came, and then he pulled on his trousers and left without a backward glance, leaving Liz lying there on the bed with her legs still open.

Then came my next surprise - well, two of them in fact. Firstly, instead of getting dressed, or going for a shower, or even lighting a post-coital cigarette, she leaned over and took a thick black vibrator from a cupboard beside the bed and used it to probe between her legs. I couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but even at that age I had a good idea where a woman kept her clitoris, and so I figured it out quite easily. She came nearly as quickly as her customer had, her free hand gripping at the sheets and her hips bouncing on the bed.

Then she did something that shocked rather than surprised me. She glanced backwards at her side of the mirror, a little satisfied smile playing over her lips. She was looking at me, even though she couldn't see me. She was looking at where she knew I was, and letting me know she knew I was there. I gazed into the mirror in total disbelief. Had her masturbation been for my benefit at least as much as hers? Why did she want me to see her doing that? Was it to prove her unfulfilled desires? I longed to ask, but just didn't have the nerve. Liz and I were getting on well, but I still felt couldn't delve too deeply into her privacy.

That night, lying in the next room with my hand around my cock, I wondered how I would feel if she did take a lover and I had to listen to her making love properly. Strange, I could make a distinction between work and play -- and I think I would have been jealous of play. I began to wonder about my feelings for Liz and about hers for me -- especially in the light of her intentional display earlier on.

I had to go out the next morning, and when I got back Liz was already in her working clothes, still predominantly black and red, but this time with black skin tight Lycra leggings over her lovely long legs.

"I'm glad you're back." She told me. "I've got a regular coming, but it's not the usual kind of thing."

My interest was immediately sparked, wondering what sort of kinky sex she was intending. Visions of chains and suchlike flitted through my youthful brain.

"Oh?"

She smiled broadly, a giggle hidden behind her words. "I know what you're thinking, and it's nothing like that."

"Oh?"

"No, I have three regular young men who come once a week. They're a bit poor and they club together for me, taking it in turns. So I let the other two watch whichever of them is doing it with me, and just recently they've taken to wanking over me while they watch. I don't mind, it's a compliment really, but it can get a bit messy."

"Oh!" Somehow I felt I should be the only one to watch, and I wasn't allowed to wank over her. Jealous again!

"So it would be good if you'd help me out."

"Oh?"

"Suffering from restricted vocabulary are we?" She asked, one querying eyebrow raised.

"Sorry."

"Can you act as my maid? I know you're not a woman, but I can trust you, and there are times when I need someone to help take care of things."

She didn't expand on 'things', but I nodded anyway.

"Yes, of course I can." I grinned awkwardly as a silly thought crossed my mind. "You don't want me to wear a little black and white dress and stockings, do you?"

She smiled in recognition of my embarrassed remark. "No, but when they go, can you get some tissues and wipes and come in? I hate the feel of cum running down me if I stand up."

"Yeah, okay." I wasn't sure why she needed me. She could just as easily have taken them in with her.

The three students looked surprisingly nervous as they stripped off, Liz undressed already and lying on her bed waiting. I wondered for a moment if they had discerned my presence through the glass, but I was standing in darkness and so I doubted it.

It was apparently the turn of the tallest of the three this time, for he positioned himself at the end of the bed while the other two stood one to each side. From where I stood my mother seemed to be surrounded by this trio of erections, all pointing in her direction. I noticed too that none of them sported a condom.

It's strange to see another young man mount your mother, especially with two more watching him -- three, if you count me. He began in the conventional missionary style, but then soon moved so that he was kneeling upright with Liz drawn up the slope of his thighs and being pulled on and off of his cock by his hands on her hips. Either side of him the others wanked vigorously, their cocks pointing vaguely in the direction of her breasts. I could hear her encouraging them all and, frankly, I must admit to being fascinated.

They came one after the other in strict succession, the one to Liz's left getting there first and sending a shower of cum over her breasts and belly, followed at once by the boy opposite, who sprayed an even larger load over her, and then culminating in the one fucking her, who shot his load deep, shaking her body with his energetic lunges and making his friends' spunk run and mingle across her skin. It was an obscenely erotic sight, but not really one involving his mother that any young man should see. Never mind, it gave me an alarmingly powerful erection, so it couldn't have been too off putting.

The moment the three were out of the door I was in there with a box of tissues, a pack of wet-wipes and a couple of towels, eager to fulfil my promise but uneasy as to why I was so excited. But then, having got there, I just put them down and stood gazing down at my cum-covered mother and tried to figure out what to do next.

"Clean me up, Andy, please. I'm covered in the stuff."

My eyes widened with surprise, my heart raced and my mouth suddenly went dry. That was something I hadn't expected to be asked to do. I stammered my assent and then stood wondering where to start.

"C'mon Andy, don't just stand looking."

I picked up a couple of tissues and began dabbing ineffectually at the cum on my mother's stomach.

"No, Andy, get a handful and wipe it off properly."

I did as I was told, wadding up the tissues and then wiping across the flat of her abdomen. That did the trick and, for some reason, once I'd begun all reluctance disappeared and I set about cleaning the rest of her without embarrassment. I even managed to use my other hand to hold the soft flesh of her breasts still while I wiped them clean, getting something of a thrill from touching her hard little dark nipples. I assumed they were still hard from the sex she'd been involved in, but my cock was hard from what I was doing at that moment, and I was very conscious that it shouldn't be.

I think Liz was aware of my arousal, because she indulged herself in a little light-hearted teasing at my expense, making me go over her breasts several times, saying I'd missed a bit and then telling me that I was doing a good job for her. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but I was enjoying myself anyway.

I was now quite happy to touch my mother's flesh, and after the tissues I used the wet-wipes and then a towel, briefly stroking her skin afterwards to be sure it was dry. It was a little bit sexy and a little bit naughty, but it didn't seem wrong at all. After all, it was all part of her day-job and I was just helping out. I did her stomach, her breasts, her neck and the top of one arm where a large glob had landed, and then I stepped back to be sure I hadn't missed any.

"You've missed somewhere."

I looked her up and down, but I couldn't see where - until she opened her legs and pointed at her leaking pussy.

"I can't do that Liz!" I protested in genuine alarm.

"Yes you can. It's only skin like everywhere else."

I suppose that technically she was right, but it wasn't the sort of skin I'd expected to be touching and I was getting a bit worried about her motives. I hung back a moment or two, but she was looking up at me expectantly and so I shrugged my mental shoulders and picked up another wad of tissues.

She opened her legs wider for me and I set to work. The young customer's spunk had leaked from her pussy and run down her crack, so I besides swabbing her clit and around there, I also had to reach down and clean the cum that had trickled down to her anus, not a task I relished, but Liz obviously didn't mind as she folded her legs back to give me better access.

I was probably a bit red-faced by the time I'd done it, and feeling very confused. I'd enjoyed what I was doing, the soft, squishy feel of a woman's pussy was just as nice even if it was my own mother's and I was cleaning another man's spunk from it. But at the same time I was very aware both of feeling turned on and of the fact that I shouldn't be doing it in the first place, especially when she told me how nice my fingers felt touching her pussy through the tissue.

"I'm sorry, Andy." She added, when I looked troubled. "But they finished too quickly and they've left me high and dry -- well, perhaps not dry!"

She smiled at her own joke and I used a wet wipe on her, feeling her hard little button through the flimsy fabric.

"But that does feel nice, whatever you say." She confirmed. "I can't help liking it, because I really am randy."

She wasn't the only one.

I rubbed her down with the towel and stood back again, convinced that this time I was finished, and thinking of retreating to my room.

"Look." She said, lowering her legs back down. "I need to cum. I know you can't do it, so I'm going to have to finish myself off. You don't mind, do you?"

I shook my head mutely, torn between watching and running like hell.

"Just reach in that cupboard then, and pass me my vibe, there's a good boy."

I reached into the cupboard and found that there were actually two vibrators in there, the big black one that I'd seen before and a small silver one about half its size, along with one or two other gizmos. I took out both vibrators and laid them on the bed beside her.

"Ah, thanks." She smiled and picked up the small one. "This one will do, I think."

The turned in on full and placed the tip against her clitoris, sighing with pleasure as she did so, while I stood and openly stared at her. The taboo nature and the downright kinkiness of the situation seemed not to have occurred to either of us, certainly it didn't cross my mind and if it crossed hers then she either didn't care or she took even more pleasure from the fact. Whichever it was, there I stood holding eye contact with my mother while she masturbated in front of me with a vibrator. Perhaps the bewilderment I felt showed on my face for she asked me again if I minded.

"No." I gasped, my eyes dropping to her pussy. "I don't mind. Do whatever you need to do."

For several minutes we stayed like that without speaking further, me staring alternately at her face and her pussy, and Liz giving tiny gasps and sighs as she gyrated her hips, moving the vibe around and around her clit. I'm not quite sure who was getting the biggest kick, but I'm pretty sure that at one point she actually came, although if she did her orgasm was much muted. She just gave a little groan and went rigid for a second or two, holding the vibe hard up against her, before she carried on stroking it over and around her clit. Obviously that little one was not quite enough.

Perhaps that mini-orgasm had taken the edge away, because she looked now to be trying unsuccessfully to regain her arousal, and in the end the picked up the second, larger, vibe and used that instead, running it down her slit all the way from her clit until she could push it up herself before retracing her steps back to her clit. But maybe even this was not quite enough, because she picked up the silver one again in her left hand, looked thoughtfully at the black one, and then looked up at me.