My father had never, to my memory, been a healthy man, and he had long been quite sick before he died when I was sixteen. Mum had been a nurse when she met dad; he had been hospitalised for a minor operation, and I believe it was one of those fictional "nurse/patient" relationships. There's no doubt that dad was a good looking guy before his final illness set in, and Mum had told me he could be quite charming and sometimes downright irresistible.
I had never had a mature relationship with Dad; his illness prevented that, but he was always kind and supportive towards me. So was Mum, although in my early adolescence, the needs of my father tended to take precedence over mine. In my own selfish way I resented this, even when I realised that my father's condition was terminal. I never reproached Mum over this, and I was later grateful to myself that it didn't sour our relationship.
Mum had nursed Dad through his final illness and I can remember his funeral well. Mum had mourned him but not to the extent that some people thought right. Mum told me later that her mourning had started well before Dad's actual death, knowing that this was inevitable. She told me that her feelings were a mixture of sadness and relief, relief that he was finally released from his pain and suffering.
Fast forward nine years. My exams were complete, my thesis had been accepted and I was now a fully fledged psychologist after 6 years of study. Still very wet behind the ears but full of ideas and enthusiasm. My personal life was a quite different kettle of fish. At 25, not still a virgin, my experiences with women had been limited. It seemed that they were either party girls who wanted no more than a good time and who thought I was dull and boring, or ultra serious young women who wanted to talk about deep and meaningful social issues, with sex way down on the priority list. I had one or two positive outcomes, but nothing at all lasting.
So here I was, still living at home with my mother, wondering where to take my personal life next.
Let me tell you a little bit about Mum. At 45, she was still, to my biased view, stunningly beautiful. She had kept herself very fit, initially to give herself the strength and endurance to nurse Dad through his illness, then as a deliberate strategy to keep herself fit. She told me that it was the ideal antidote to gloom and depression following his death, and I knew that she worked out regularly at the local gym. Dad had a couple of longstanding insurance policies that left her reasonably well provided for, and she had a part time job that gave her a small income and paid some of the bills.
Mum was quite tall, around 5'9" with a beautifully proportioned body. I know she had a 38C bust—in my adolescent fantasies, I'd searched through her underwear drawer. Her hair was what is usually called "dirty blonde", a rather demeaning description, I've always thought. Really, a blend of blonde and light brown, she kept it scrupulously clean and it fell softly past her shoulders. She had deep blue eyes that were usually soft and warm, but could, as I knew to my cost, turn steel hard when I'd messed up. Her face was not wholly dissimilar to that of the US actor, Jenna Elfman; she wore clothes well, but usually preferred jeans, tees and flatties at home.
Mum had supported, encouraged, and occasionally bullied me, but generally been my biggest fan as I worked through my university studies. When I told her that I had been successful, she crowed with delight and gave me the biggest hug ever, and rather more surprising, a big sloppy wet kiss on my mouth.
"Stevie, I am SO proud of you and what you have achieved. I want to take you out for dinner at a big city restaurant. Name the place and the time and it's my treat."
"Thanks, Mum, that would be lovely. If money is no object, I suggest we make it the Excelsior on a Saturday evening. Soon."
"Okay, Stevie, leave it all to me."
We settled on a date and time, and I dressed up – suit, tie, decent shirt, and even polished my shoes. Then Mum came into the lounge, and it was almost a case of "cometh the hour, cometh the man". I was bowled over by how beautiful she looked. Mum had obviously gone to a great deal of trouble with her makeup, had clearly had a manicure and was dressed in a figure hugging creation in a rich, deep burgundy. Working upwards, she was in black patent pumps with a 3" heel, stockings and a hemline just above the knee. The top was cut in a crossover style, emphasising a deep, mouth watering cleavage, and she wore an uplift bra that called even more attention to her gorgeous breasts.
"Wow, Mum, you look absolutely stunning. Is this all for me?"
"Well, you don't think I'd dress like an old bag lady to take my favourite guy out for dinner, do you?" she laughed.
"I cannot imagine anyone looking less like an old bag lady. I am so privileged to be seen with you. Yum yum."
"I can see I'm going to have to be very careful with you, young man," she pretended to chide me, but I could tell that she found the attention pleasing.
At that moment the taxi arrived; "Just in case we want to have a drink or two," and we set off for the Excelsior.
I noticed that Mum drew admiring glances as we walked through the restaurant, and I had no doubt that she looked at least ten years younger than her forty-five years. The meal was delicious and a great success, accompanied by two bottles of first class wine. The alcohol had the effect of making us both more talkative than usual, particularly Mum.
"I've often wondered, Mum, why you haven't gone into another relationship after Dad's death?" I asked her.
"Oh, I don't know, sweetie, I've had a few offers and been out on a few dates, but no-one that really appealed. Most of the guys of my generation are either married and looking for a fling on the side, are hopeless losers who only want to talk about the shortcomings of their ex, or alcoholics. I've had one or two approaches from younger guys, but they frighten me. Oh, and by the way, Stevie, what is a MILF?"
"Um, err, well ... I really don't know ..."
"I see—now just why are you stalling, young man? I don't believe you don't know, so tell me."
"Okay, Mum, you asked for it, it stands for Mother I'd Like to ... ," and then my nerve deserted me.
"So what does the 'F' stand for?"
I blushed a deep red while Mum looked closely at me, and then the penny dropped. "Oh, I see—you are trying to spare my blushes, although I have heard the word, 'fuck' before." Mum grinned at my discomfort.
"How come you want to know about MILFs, Mum?"
"Oh," she replied airily, "I heard a couple of young guys using the expression."
"While looking at you and drooling no doubt. Still, they had excellent taste."
Now it was Mum's turn to blush, and I decided to press forward and be a bit more inquisitive. "Don't you miss the physical contact with someone else, though, Mum, being close, touching, maybe kissing? In my sort of circles, that's called 'skin hunger'."
"Stevie, I'm not sure that this is the sort of conversation for a mother to have with her son, no matter how much she loves him."
"Oho, I see—but you don't mind quizzing me about my girlfriends. I specifically remember you asking me if Barb was a good kisser, and commenting on the size of Suzie's boobs."
I managed to make Mum blush again, but she tried to save herself by saying, "That's different—I was just showing concern for my son's wellbeing."
"Hmm, maybe, but I suspect you were just trying to find out about my sex life."
"Honey, you are a very handsome, very attractive young man, and I'd be surprised if you didn't have young ladies fighting over you."
I wasn't about to lose the initiative in this discussion, "Not really, Mum, but anyway, I thought it was my turn to give you the third degree?"
"Well," she conceded with a wide grin on her face, "I think I may have found a boyfriend. His name's Eddie and he's a friend of one of my work colleagues; she introduced us a couple of days ago and he seems like a nice guy. He's a financial adviser, about my age," she finished.
"Wow, Mum, that's fantastic. So when's the first date?" I enthused, although feeling just the tiniest pang of jealousy.
"He said he'd ring me during the week, and he seemed genuine about doing that—now I'm starting to feel like a schoolgirl on her first ever date," she smiled.
I looked closely at Mum and I could see that she was happy and more relaxed than I'd seen her for a while. I hoped that it might be, at least in part, due to the enjoyable meal that we'd shared, but I also realised that Eddie had made a big impression.
We were home by midnight, and Mum gave me a generous hug. "Thank you for a really enjoyable evening, Stevie. It's very good for a girl's self-esteem to be seen with a handsome hunk—even if he is her son," she laughed.
"Thanks Mum. It's very good for a guy to be seen with a beautiful MILF, even if it is his Mum," and I winked at her as she blushed a deep red and headed for bed.
A few days later, as I returned home, I was greeted by Mum at her enthusiastic best. "Oh, honey, I'm so happy. Eddie has asked me out to dinner on Friday, and of course I agreed. Now I just have to work out what to wear."
This was a topic of conversation for the next couple of days. At the appointed time, Mum looked stunning in a sheath dress in a beautiful cobalt blue that set off her hair and eyes to perfection, with the clingy material providing a tasteful idea of her curves.
"Mum, you look stunning. Eddie is a really lucky guy," I told her. "He'd have to be blind not to appreciate how gorgeous you look."
"Thank you, honey, I do feel quite nervous—this is the first date I've been on since I met your father. I don't count you, of course," she smiled, "you're special."
The doorbell rang; Eddie had brought flowers and expressed his appreciation for how Mum looked, then she introduced him to me. He was a little shorter than me, stocky with broad shoulders but starting to develop a gut. He didn't look in the peak of physical condition, but he seemed pleasant enough, and he was most attentive to Mum.
"Don't keep her out too late, now, Eddie. She needs to be home by her curfew," I called out as they left, and was rewarded with a laugh from both of them. I eventually went to bed, and vaguely heard the front door close at some time just after midnight.
Next day I interrogated Mum, and she reported having had, "a wonderful time; Eddie was so attentive." I felt that pang of jealousy again, but said nothing.
Over the next two or three weeks, Mum was out with Eddie on at least four occasions. Then, all hell broke loose and my life changed for ever. It was a Saturday evening; I had gone out with some friends, and Mum was again out with Eddie. I arrived home rather earlier than I expected; the wife of one of my friends was feeling unwell, so we broke up early. Eddie's car was in the drive, and I walked in quietly, not wanting to disturb anything, when I heard a scream that made my blood first run cold, and then boil. Mum was screaming at Eddie, "No, Eddie, no, please don't, please don't hurt me. No, Eddie, I don't want you like this, just leave me alone and go, please." This was interspersed with screams of fear from Mum as I burst into the lounge room.
Mum was cowering away from Eddie, trapped against the wall, as he attempted to rip her clothes off, shouting at her, "Come on you whore, you know you want it, now if you're not prepared to give me what I want, I'll take it anyway. I'm going to fuck you whether you want it or not. You've been playing me along for weeks, now I'm going to get my reward."
All of a sudden I felt totally in control, in spite of the cold rage building inside me. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Eddie, you fucking pig[.] [?]"
He spun round and faced me. "Mind your own fucking business, little boy; this is between your cock-teasing slut of a mother and me."
I had hung with one or two rather tough guys early in my time at university, and one of them had told me, "In street fighting, anything goes. There ain't no rules; just get in and floor your opponent before he does it to you, and it don't matter how you do it." I remembered this advice, took a step closer to Eddie—and spat in his face. That produced the intended result, as both hands came up to wipe the muck out of his eyes, accompanied by a few choice descriptions of me. As his hands came up, his groin was unprotected, and my right foot made contact with considerable force. He howled in agony, now moving his hands down to protect the family jewels from further depredation, uncovering his face and allowing me the luxury of a powerful short-arm jab across the bridge of his nose. The red gusher was accompanied by a satisfying crunch as his nose broke and he collapsed on the floor, bleeding and howling.
I turned to Mum who was staring in a mixture of horror and fear, tinged, I thought, with admiration. "Mum, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? Shall I call the cops?"
"'No' to all those questions, honey, just get that heap of garbage out of here."
"My pleasure, Mum," and I grabbed Eddie by the collar and yanked him to his feet, propelling him towards the door. "Now get out of here, Eddie, and if I as much as hear a rumour that you've been anywhere near my mother, I'll give you a beating that makes this episode feel like a tickle. Capiche?"
"Fuck you," he tried to inject some bravado, but when he saw the look in my eyes, he hurried to the door. "She wasn't much of a catch, anyway," he tried to salvage his own macho image, but I opened the door and as I shoved him through, planted my foot on his backside and propelled him rapidly out, causing him to fall flat on his face on the gravel drive. "Bye bye, fuckwit," I called and walked inside, slamming the door.
Mum was sitting in a chair with tears streaming down her face. She was holding the rags of her dress close to her and was obviously highly distraught. I sat on the arm of the chair and put my arm round her shoulders, just making soothing noises and letting her know she was safe. Her tears eventually eased and she looked t me through red, swollen eyes. "Oh Stevie, what would have happened if you hadn't come home when you did?" she asked in a voice barely more than a whisper.
"Doesn't matter, Mum, the fact is I did, and I'm so relieved that I did, otherwise I might've gone after him and killed him." Mum looked at me with the faintest of smiles. "My knight in shining armour," she whispered, and the tears started to fall again.
"Hmm," I thought, and went quickly to Mum's room and got her dressing gown. Returning to the lounge, I told her, "I promise to shut my eyes if you'd like to get out of the remains of your dress so you can relax."
"Thank you Stevie," she said, and a few moments later told me, "Okay honey, I'm decent."
I looked deeply into Mum's troubled eyes. "I guess you don't want to talk about it now, Mum, but whenever you do, I'll be here to listen,"
"Thank you, honey, I might just take you up on that. But do you know the irony of all this? This evening, for the first time, I was ready to give him what he wanted. If he'd just been a little more patient and just a bit of a gentleman, I would have jumped into bed with him without a second thought. Eddie just wanted too much too quickly, and you saw the result. Thank god," Mum finished, piously.
"Mum, it's getting late, and I can see how exhausted you are. Why not take a nice hot shower and get to bed, and we can talk in the morning?"
"Mmm, yes, Stevie, that sounds like a good prescription to me. I'm sorry about all the mess, leave it until tomorrow if you like, and ..."
"Just get yourself off to bed," I jumped in, "and leave the clearing up to me."
Mum departed and I cleared up; in any event, it didn't take too long, and I could hear the soft sound of Mum's breathing as I took myself to bed.
I was woken in the early hours by someone calling my name. As I established that this was not a dream, I realised that Mum was in my room, calling softly to me. I woke and switched on my bedside light. "Hi, Mum, what's up?"
"Oh Stevie, I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm feeling so scared. Would you think I'm a dreadful woman if I asked you if I could sleep with you?"
"Mum you are certainly not dreadful, and I would regard it as a privilege if you were to sleep with me. Come on, hop in," and so saying I threw back the cover.
She climbed into my king size single bed; it was a bit squashy, so she needed to snuggle close to me, a situation that I didn't object to in the slightest. Mum was wearing a matching lilac coloured baby doll nightdress and panties that did nothing to hide her undoubted charms.
"Stevie, please hold me and keep me safe from the boogie men," she begged.
"No boogie men here, Mum, except the one who's holding you in his arms."
"Oh him," Mum giggled, and I caught the faintest whiff of brandy on her breath. She had probably tried to get herself to sleep with a drink but not succeeded. "Oh him," she repeated. "He's no problem—he keeps me safe."
"Is that so," I laughed back.
"Mmm", she replied and then, unexpectedly, kissed me full on my lips, stroking her tongue into my mouth and holding my head in her hands. I rationalised that I really had no option but to reply in kind, and we were soon caught in a passionate, warm, wet embrace, mouths moving hungrily against each other.
"Oh Stevie, I know this is wrong—mothers and sons aren't supposed to do this sort of thing, but I so need your love and protection and I want to show you how grateful I am for what you did."
"Mum, you don't have to go this far ...," but she put her finger against my lips and whispered "Ssh, tonight is different. I need to be in your arms so I can hide away from the nasties of earlier on, knowing that I'm with someone I can trust absolutely. Stevie, I love you so much. Please, my darling son, please show me what it's like to be with someone who really cares."
How could I resist such a plea? I leant over and kissed her, gently at first, and she replied with a hot, wet kiss, her tongue searching for mine. I propped on one elbow and gazed into her eyes. "Penny McLaren, I love you so much. You are so beautiful, and I feel as if I've died and gone to heaven."
Somewhat to her surprise, I had used her given name for the first time, but Mum gazed into my eyes, saying, "It feels so right for you to use my real name when we're like this. Please keep calling me Penny. I love it."
I kissed down her neck, then told her, "Penny, I think we have a small problem here."
"Mmm?" she murmured.
"Yes, you've got far too much clothing on. Let's get rid of that suit of armour for a start."
She giggled again. "This wouldn't stop a whisper, let alone a great big rampaging man, ready to make love to me at any moment—I hope." So saying, she drew the flimsy nightdress over her head and snuggled into my arms.
Mum clung to me, covering my face with kisses and whispering seductive and downright lusty demands about what I should do to her. I stroked my hands down her arm, then up her side, caressing and gently squeezing her breast, and she moaned gently in response.
"Mum," I started, "Are you really sure you want this, or would you rather just snuggle up and go to sleep?"
She didn't answer immediately, but then I felt her soft, warm hand move between my legs and caress my balls, moving them gently around and transmuting my cock into a steel bar. "Does that answer your question, sweetie?" she asked in a husky voice and I found myself forced to agree.
I rolled her gently onto her back and returned to focussing on her breast. I kissed upwards along the soft underside of each tit, then round with a circle of little kisses, avoiding, for the time being, her areolas and nipples. Mum whimpered and tried to roll her nipples into my mouth, but I kept up the teasing, causing her to grab my head and pull me down so that I couldn't avoid the tempting rigid morsels."Stevie, you are a dreadful tease," she whispered. "Please kiss my nipples and make me squirm."
I bit gently into a nipple with my lips covering my teeth and she cried out in delight; I repeated the treatment on the other side to be rewarded in the same way. I kissed down her stomach to the accompaniment of soft moans of desire, then reaching her panties, went one step further and kissed her vagina through the filmy silk. She gasped and shuddered, the more so as I pulled her panties off and then kissed her pussy directly. I stroked my tongue along the length of her slit, now moist with her juice and nibbled softly on and around her clit.
"Oh god, Stevie, that's so ... I've never ...," she gasped. "Please hold me, please make love to me; I need it so much. I need to feel you close to me and to feel you fill me. I want you, my love, more than anything else in the world right now—then we can snuggle up and go to sleep." I could hear the smile in her voice.
This was almost more than my rigid, straining cock could take and I moved back up her body, kissing her as I went. Then I whispered into her ear, "Penny, I think side by side would be the best way to go, then I can hold your beautiful body close to me. Just lift your top leg over mine and we'll find the way in."
She did so, sobbing and shuddering, begging me to take her and not hold back any longer. I held Penny close to me and she writhed against me and clung to my body, fastening her nails into my back. I touched her pussy with the tip of my cock then used it to massage her clit and lips, slipping it just into her wet opening.
Penny screamed softly, but her scream became almost deafening as I slid my rigid cock into her waiting cunt. "Oh god, Stevie, yes ... yes ...please hold me and fill me with your beautiful ... cock." It was almost more than she could bring herself to say, but then all her inhibitions seemed to vanish—"Fuck me, Stevie, fuck me until I cum, keep me safe in your arms and show me what real love is."
"Yes, Penny, yes my beautiful lover, my beautiful mother. You're driving me closer towards an explosion and I can't hold back."
She gasped and cried out, "No, darling, just let go when you need to. I'm so close that your climax will trigger one in me."
That was all I needed, and my balls contracted with an electric tingle spreading through them and into my cock. With a shout of joy, I sent a huge pent-up flood of cum surging towards my mother's womb. She was right—this was enough to trigger her orgasm and with a shriek she clamped down hard on my cock and clung to me in a climactic spasm.
"Penny, that was just completely magical. I want to do everything I can to keep you safe and show you how much I love you."
She seemed to be completely bathed in a soft, warm glow and reached a hand up to stroke my face. "Thank you so much, Stevie. I love you too; I feel safe and loved with you and I'll never forget this night." Her voice was slurred with sleep. I kissed her once, then threw the duvet back over her and she was asleep within seconds. I took hardly any longer to fall into a deep dreamless sleep.
I was alone in bed when I woke next morning, but I could hear activity in the kitchen. Mum was standing at the sink with a heavy dressing gown firmly belted around her waist. Approaching her from behind, I wrapped my arms around her waist and nuzzled into her neck. She immediately turned and pushed me away.
"No, Stevie, no, this mustn't happen again. I don't want to hurt you, but what happened last night was completely wrong. Mothers and sons mustn't have sex; incest is immoral and it's illegal, and I won't let myself get so close to you again."
"But, Penny ..." I started, but she cut straight across me.
"No, Stevie, don't push me. My mind is made up. And please don't forget that I'm your mother, so don't call me Penny again—in this house, I'm 'Mum'."
"Okay, Mum, your call, and I will respect your wishes. Just tell me one thing, though, and please be honest. Were you faking your excitement last night, or did you truly enjoy it?"
She blushed, a deep crimson. "Yes, it was the most intense and most exciting experience of my life. That doesn't make it right, though. I desperately needed to feel loved but I'm deeply ashamed of allowing myself to be drawn to you in that way, and I'm so sorry for putting you in that position."
"Sorry, Mum," I replied, "I can't accept your apology. To use your words, it was the most intense and most exciting experience of my life as well, but I'm not ashamed of it. I love you, and I will always delight in that experience. I'm not ashamed, and I don't intend to let it damage the relationship that we have together. I give you my word, though—I won't EVER try to force myself on you. Still, I hope a little kiss on the cheek is permitted?" and I followed through as she laughed.
"Thank you, Stevie, thank you for being so understanding. I love you too, but it has to be traditional mother/son love, okay?"
"Mmm, like I said, your call," and I settled to breakfast and a normal day's activities.
Thereafter, our lives returned to what might be called a "pre-Eddie" state. We lived in a companionable existence, moving in our own directions, but staying in a purely platonic relationship. This state of affairs lasted for a few weeks, but over that time, I noticed a deepening change in Mum. She became progressively more down, less like her old cheerful self. I know that she had fits of tears, and I suspected that she might have been drinking more than usual. She seemed to be avoiding me more and keeping very much to herself.
Clearly, something was getting to her and I wanted to know what. One evening, I arrived home a little earlier than usual and it was obvious immediately that Mum gad been crying. Her eyes were red rimmed and she was a picture of misery.
"Mum, sit down, we need to talk," I took the initiative, and she did so with a hopeless expression on her face. "Mum, for the past weeks, you have been getting more and more upset. What's going on? What's eating away at you?"
"Oh Stevie, I just don't know. I feel more and more useless; I don't seem to have any reason to carry on. I'm so lonely, and ..." She paused and looked at me with a distressed expression on her face, "I've corrupted you by forcing myself on you."
"Oh Mum, that's nonsense and you know it—or you should. It's more likely that I corrupted you, so you can blame me for all the fears you have."
"Stevie ... Stevie ... oh god, what am I going to do? I feel so worthless—I'm spoiled goods, and nobody will ever want to know me again."
"Mum, look at me," I took a strong line with her and she looked blankly up at me. "You're tearing yourself apart for no good reason, and you're hurting yourself. I know how it goes. You hurt, so you blame yourself and the more you blame yourself, the more you hurt, so you blame yourself for the extra hurt, and it just goes round and round in a vicious circle."
"I guess you're right, honey," she replied, "but what am I going to do?"
"Mum, you need help, but I don't think it needs to be anything like psychoanalysis. Tell you what, why don't you go see Aunt Lillian and have a real heart to heart with her?"
I need to explain about Aunt Lillian. Mum had three sisters, Aunt Lillian, the oldest, then Aunt Suzy, who we hardly ever saw, and Aunt Ellie, the youngest. Their mother had died giving birth to Ellie when Mum was about two years old; Lillian was then about fourteen. Their father was a lovely man, but totally unsuited to bringing up four girls, and the load fell on Lillian's shoulders. She seemed to relish this role, and was a substitute mother to her three sisters. I knew that Mum had leaned on her heavily during Dad's illness, and she had been a tower of strength for her.
At the same time, Aunt Lillian was quite "straight laced" and rather old fashioned. Mum indicated as much when she said, "Oh Stevie, I don't think I could do that—your Aunt Lillian is likely to be quite critical, and I don't think I could handle that."
"I'm not so sure, Mum. She's always had your best interests at heart and in spite of her stern appearance, I know she's got a soft spot for you. Why don't you give it a try?"
"Okay, honey, you might be right; anything is better than going through this torture. I'll give her a call in the morning."
I gathered that Mum had talked to her sister, but had no feedback and heard nothing further on the subject until I had a surprise phone call late on a Friday afternoon. It was Aunt Lillian. She started in her usual direct way, "Steven, I need to talk to you about an urgent matter. Please come here for tea tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock, but please don't let your mother know where you're going." One did not argue with Aunt Lillian in this mood, and I duly arrived at her house at four o'clock the following afternoon, having told Mum that I was doing some research in the library.
Aunt Lillian invited me in and offered me tea; "And some of your lovely home baked cake, if you have some, please Aunt Lillian." She tried to look severe but I still caught the twinkle in her eye as she produced the cake.
"Now then, Steven I need to talk about your mother." I wasn't surprised, but I was surprised at the rather hesitant way she addressed the topic. Quite unlike her, I thought.
"Steven, this is very difficult for me because it goes against everything I've ever believed and all my standards and values. However, this may be the only way to help her resolve her problems."
I remained silent and watched her closely.
"Your mother is lost. Not physically, of course, but she can't come to terms with her emotional life and her lack of anyone close that she can trust and who will care about her."
"Aunt Lillian, I love Mum deeply—she can trust me absolutely and I care about her very much," I protested.
"Yes, I know, my dear, but you're her son, which puts a different complexion on the situation," she said. "After that swine Eddie tried to rape her, she was left without any sense of her own value. She'd lost your father, the one man she truly loved and I suspect there's still a little bit of guilt there, believing that she could, somehow, have done more for him. Then there was the Eddie episode; your mother thought that he was the answer to her prayers, but he turned out to be a devil, not an angel. Then she believed that she had seduced and corrupted you ..."
"So Mum told you about that, did she? Well, I can assure you that she wasn't alone in the seduction." Aunt Lillian blushed but I went on, "Mum was scared, she felt threatened and alone, and she was looking for comfort, and perhaps even sanctuary. I think she genuinely found those things in my arms, but the next day, all sorts of taboos kicked in, and she blames herself for something for which there is no need for blame."
"Hmm, ordinarily, I would disagree with you strongly, Steven," she continued. "This time, though, you may just be right. I hate to say this, because in my opinion, what I have to say is both illegal and immoral. However, the only answer may be for you to re-establish a physical relationship with your mother to give her the love and security that she needs. How you do that, though, is a bit of a puzzle."
Then a light went on in my head, and a plan hatched itself fully formed in my mind. "Aunt Lillian, two weeks today is Mum and Dad's wedding anniversary. Mum always tries to remember it, but it's been very hard for her. I'm going to offer, no, tell her that I'm taking her out to dinner and to go dancing to celebrate their marriage. I'll make it clear that I can't be her husband, but that I might just possibly make an acceptable substitute."
"Yes, Steven, that might work. Shower her with loving attention as if you were her husband, and it might change her mind." Aunt Lillian paused, looking quite uncomfortable. Then she burst out, "Steven, I have done a very silly thing. Just before he died, your father gave me a gift to give to your mother after he died. In the turmoil that surrounded your father's death, I put the gift somewhere safe and then completely forgot about it. I only rediscovered it a short time ago and I've been agonising over how to deal with this."
"Mmm, nearly ten years—rather a long time," I commented. "What is this gift that Dad left?"
Aunt Lillian handed me a flat jewellery case that contained a gold torc in the form of a twisted rope about half a centimetre thick. Enclosed was a note that read:
My darling Penny
Someone once said, "I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that."
This parting gift is to bind you to me in remembrance. However, it has a clasp that can release the necklace and will release you to find new happiness. Please, my dearest girl, don't grieve forever but find yourself the happiness that you so much deserve.
Love forever
Bob
"Aunt Lillian, that is so beautiful—have you thought about how you will approach Mum with it?" I enquired.
She shook her head, looking quite embarrassed. "Steven, do you think you might be able to ...?"
I jumped up and surprised her with a big kiss on the cheek. "That would be the icing on the cake, Aunt Lillian—I will be more than happy to give this to Mum."
She favoured me with a warm smile and I made ready to leave. "Thank you, my dear; please take care of your mother, and be gentle with her." Aunt Lillian blushed a deep crimson, "I have no uncertainty in that direction, though."
I gave her a peck on the cheek and left with the necklace hidden in the boot of my car.
Next morning, I sat and watched Mum as she busied herself in the kitchen after breakfast and at a convenient break in her seemingly unending round of domestic chores, said to her, "Mum, please sit down for a moment, I need to talk to you." She looked a little puzzled but did as I asked. "Mum, I know that your wedding anniversary is in two weeks time, and I know how important that was to you. So I've made a decision and I won't take 'no' for an answer. I am taking you out to dinner and dancing on the Saturday evening, at the Metropole, I think. I know I can't even start to replace Dad in your affections, and I won't try. But I might just be some sort of pale substitute so that you can perhaps recapture a little of the happiness you felt with him."
Mum stared at me without making any reply, but then burst into tears. "Oh Stevie, my dear, would you really do that for me? You know, you are so much like your father, in looks, physique, your voice, your smile and your sense of humour. That would be magic."
"Tell you what, Mum, I'll even wear a tux and have my hair cut the way he used to."
Again I got no reply but a huge hug from Mum to tell me it would be an experience she would never forget.
The day arrived and I struggled into my tux and waited in the lounge for Mum to make her appearance. It was worth the wait. She was dressed in a stunning creation somewhere on the border between royal blue and deep green with a scooped neckline revealing just a tantalising glimpse of cleavage and a hemline just at knee height. Three inch heels completed the ensemble, and she had obviously taken great care with her makeup and brushed her hair until it glowed.
Mum turned to me and stopped, her hand going to her mouth. "Oh Stevie, I thought for one moment that it actually was your Dad standing there—you look so much like him."
"Thank you, Mum; I was trying for that effect," I replied.
"Stevie," Mum asked hesitantly, "would you do me a big favour; please? Just for this evening, would you call me Penny instead of Mum?"
I had trouble controlling the tears that threatened to start. "Of course, Mu ... Penny, that will be a great privilege."
At that point, the taxi arrived and we headed for the Metropole, the largest and swishest place in town. I felt abundant love flowing through me as I escorted this beautiful woman through to our table and during a thoroughly enjoyable meal. I encouraged her to talk about my father, and she radiated warmth and love in a way I hadn't seen before.
After the meal we danced; it seemed for hours. Mum was a good dancer, and I had had lessons in my teens; at one stage, Mum whispered in my ear, "I know it sounds quite disloyal to your father, but I have to say that you're actually a better dancer than he was," with which I whisked her, gasping, into a pirouette.
The last dance was slow and dreamy, and Mum/Penny held herself close to me and we moved slowly together, although I was showing distinct signs of a growing interest in activities other than dancing. I know she realised this, as she held me close and looked into my eyes with a secret smile of understanding.
Eventually the music stopped, we found a taxi and headed home. We held hands as we walked into the lounge and Mum looked at me with an expression of total contentment. "Stevie, my dear, this has been an absolutely perfect evening. I was even able to convince myself that I was dancing with your father."
"Thanks, Mum," I replied, "but the evening isn't quite over yet. Would you like a nightcap before we turn in?"
She agreed and I poured her a generous measure of brandy.
"I have one more surprise for you," I said, bringing out the jewel case Aunt Lillian had given me, and gave it to Mum.
She opened it and gasped as she saw the necklace and the note. She read it and I saw tears flowing down her face.
"Oh god, Stevie, this is so perfect. Please, put it on me."
I looped it around her neck and closed the clasp, and she went to the mirror and gazed at her reflection for a long time. Then, almost as if in a trance, she picked up the note and read it again, softly repeating the words to herself. After some minutes of this, Mum turned to me and in a soft, warm voice said, "Stevie, please come and take the necklace off."
I did as she asked, then started, "Mum ..." but she put her finger to my lips. "Penny, remember?" and kissed me, a sweet invitation that left little doubt in my mind. She kissed me again, this time a long, sensual, lingual exploration. Then, "we'll talk about this in the morning. For now, please take me to bed and love me."
I wasn't going to reject an offer as exciting as that, and we moved quickly to her bedroom, where she pirouetted in front of me, and asked, "Okay, honey, how do you want me?"
"First, you gorgeous temptress, strip for me, down to your bra and panties."
She hummed deep in her throat, an exciting, resonant sound that carried real promise with it. It reminded me of a big cat about to pounce on its prey. She slowly removed her dress and flicked it away, all the time keeping her eyes fixed to mine.
I moved to her and took her in my arms, sweeping my hands up and down her back and across her smooth contoured arse. "Hmm," I reflected, "There are still things in the way", and so saying, I reached round and unsnapped her bra which fell to the floor with just a little help from Penny.
I bent and flicked my tongue across her rapidly hardening nipples, the areolas already crinkled in anticipation. "Penny, take off your panties and give them to me."
She looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression, but did as I asked almost literally tearing off her panties, leaving her naked except for smoky grey stay-ups and heels. I held her panties to my face and inhaled deeply, finding myself almost overwhelmed by the aphrodisiac perfume of a highly aroused woman.
"Ooh Stevie, what does that tell you?" she asked in a soft, teasing voice.
"As if you didn't know, you minx," I replied, "I think I'm about to test my theory that you are so hot that my cock is likely to melt."
She whimpered then moved away from me, grabbing my hand and pulling it down to her mound. I stroked across her lips—they were swollen and moist with her juices.
"Stevie," she gasped, "I want you so much. Please don't keep me waiting too long."
I swept her into my arms and deposited her on her back on the bed. I stood and looked down at her, taking in her beautiful body as she grinned at me, wriggling enticingly.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Stevie?" she whispered in a voice that left nothing to the imagination. It took me a while to get out of the tux and this was accompanied by some very suggestive comments from the lady on the bed, clearly in no mood for too much delay. I joined her and took her into my arms, feeling her soft warmth all along my body.
I kissed her, running my tongue along her lips, then into her mouth, exploring the moist warmth and the electric responsiveness of her tongue. I broke the kiss and then moved to her ear, working my tongue inside, then down behind her ear and nibbled at the earlobe. Mum gasped and giggled as she enjoyed these unfamiliar but pleasurable sensations. I kissed her again and her mouth was hungry and demanding. Our tongues wrestled and glided together and we both gasped in excitement. I broke the kiss and looked deep into her eyes.
"Sweetheart," she murmured, "Kiss my tits; bite my nipples and make me scream."
Not wanting to disappoint her, I did as I was told, and she screamed as predicted.
"First things first, gorgeous; I need to confirm just how wet you really are," and with that, I kissed my way down her stomach until my lips touched her soft bush.
She gasped, "Oh my god Stevie, what are you ..." and then squealed as my tongue swept across her slit. I stroked my tongue gently but firmly into her wet pussy and was rewarded by moans of pleasure and loud gasps as I rolled my tongue and pushed it deeper into her love tunnel.
She held my head down, seeming to want me to go even deeper, but I replaced my tongue with first one, then two fingers, causing her moans to become deeper and more ragged. Even so, I didn't expect such a rapid reaction to my next journey of exploration. I moved my tongue to the top of her pussy and felt her clit now standing proud from its sheath.
I worked my tongue over and around her love button, and her moans turned into a loud, prolonged scream. Her grip on my head became convulsive, and was accompanied by a flow of juice over my hands and face. Penny's orgasm had been fast and intense, and I moved back up her body and held her close making loving and soothing noises as I stroked her back and arms.
"Oh Stevie, oh my god, Stevie, I've never experienced anything even remotely like that. Oh my darling, it was so .." and here she burst into tears of joy as she covered my face, eyes, ears and mouth with a succession of warm, wet kisses.
"I see," I said, kissing the tip of her nose, "so you thought that wasn't too bad, did you?"
"Stevie McLaren, if you don't come here and take me this minute, I'll ..., I'll ... I'll scratch your eyes out."
"Mmm, no, I need to be able to see your gorgeous body, so let's not delay another second." I looked directly into her eyes and told her, "I want you on top. Straddle me and lower your sweet pussy onto my burning cock." I turned onto my back and pulled her towards me.
"I've never ...," she started, but then quivered and got onto her knees, swinging one leg over me. With some very sexy wriggling, she positioned the entrance to her saturated pussy over my straining cock.
"Stevie, just fill me. Now. Hard. Please don't tease me, I couldn't stand it. I so want to feel you hot and hard inside me. Please don't make me wait any more!"
"Mmm, you sexy piece. Now I can get a perfect view of those beautiful tits. Now, feed my cock into your pussy slowly so you can adjust to my size ... oh my god Penny that feels so good."
With that, I pushed upward from the bed and at the same time grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto me and I was buried to the hilt in my mother's hot, throbbing cunt. She let go all restraint and her reaction was immediate; a cross between a deep groan of submission and an ear splitting scream. She started moving herself around my cock in a broad circular movement as I continued to thrust into her and then withdraw slowly. I knew that neither of us would last very long, and I reached up and pinched her now completely aroused nipples, then pulled them away from her chest to form elongated cones of flesh. This caused her to scream again, and to sob with desire, her body trembling as her climax drew near.
"Oh Stevie, Stevie, I'm cumming, I'm CUMMING," she screamed. Please, my darling, please cum with me. Please fill me with your seed, please ..."
Her cunt swelled and contracted around my hyper-stimulated cock until this erotic massage caused my own climax to grow at express speed. This was enough for me; the bubbling, boiling frenzy in my balls would no longer be denied, and I erupted into her, shouting my triumph at the top of my voice as she again flooded me with her juices.
She collapsed on top of me, my shrinking cock pulling from her pussy as she rolled onto her back.
I propped on one elbow and looked down at her, her eyes closed and a faint smile on her face. "Penny, you are simply gorgeous and this has been the best day of my life—so far!"
She opened her eyes, a deep eternal blue and looked back at me, her smile spreading to cover her whole face. "Stevie McLaren, you saved my life. You brought me back from despair and allowed me to discover how exciting real love can be. I can never thank you enough for that—but I'm going to do everything I can to show you."
I bent and kissed her, the sweet, gentle kiss of two satiated lovers. The magic surrounded us both and we lay close to each other, happy and content. Then Penny came to an inevitable decision, and with a laugh in her voice, told me, "I don't know about you, darling, but to make tonight perfect—I'm going to sleep!"
I returned the laugh and whispered, "Mmm, sounds great to me, but I don't have the energy to go back to my own bed. Can I sleep with my mummy, please?"
"You'd better, sweetheart; I couldn't bear to be alone," she murmured.
I remembered nothing further until I woke next morning to an empty bed. I could hear Mum in the kitchen, singing to herself—always a sign that she was feeling happy. As once before, I glided into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her and nuzzled into her neck. This time, her response was quite different. She turned slowly in my arms with a broad grin on her face.
"Well hi, sleepyhead, apart from the incredibly obvious," she teased, stroking a very insistent erection, "what did you have in mind for today?"
"Mmm, yes, but later, you insatiable woman. Can we talk a little first." I replied.
"Okay, honey—toast and coffee?"
"Penny—I can still call you Penny, can't I?"
She laughed and told me, "Of course, but I do want to say something about that. Stevie, I love you so much I feel like I'm going to explode. Even so, can we have a rule that if I'm wearing the torc, then I'm Mum and our relationship is strictly mother and son?"
"Works for me Mu... er, Penny."
She laughed. "Okay, but I can always ask you to take it off!"
I looked directly at her, saying nothing but revelling in my happiness until, continuing her laughter, she asked, "Are you enjoying ogling me?"
"How could I not; I love you too." I replied. "I know I can never replace dad, and I won't ever try. But do you think we can ever find happiness with each other?"
"No," she responded unexpectedly. "Don't put it in the future tense darling. I've already found my happiness, and I suspect you may have, too!"
"Oh yes," I answered, feeling an ecstasy that I'd never experienced before. "Problem is, I don't know how I'm going to be able to keep my hands off you. You're everything I've ever dreamed of in a woman, and the fact that you are my mother adds an extra spice to it."
She walked to where I was sitting and sat on my lap. "I don't care any more about how often you hold me, caress me or love me. I am yours however and whenever you want. Just so long as I know you care—and I don't have any doubt about that at all." So saying, she kissed me, warm, sweet and comprehensive.
I had no answer but to return the kiss in the same way, sealing our future happiness.