Mothering Sunday by latimer

An adult stories – Mothering Sunday by latimer,latimer All characters are over the age of 18, and it is written in British-English. As I’m sure you can tell by the context, this story deals with mother-son incest. Be warned! But if you’re into that kind of thing, please enjoy… hopefully.

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He was there, she could tell. There in the darkness outside her bedroom door. She didn’t turn around to check, but she sensed his presence, his eyes, wide in the dark, his low silent breathing.

It wasn’t the first time. At first, she’d felt concern and confusion about why he was there. Why was he watching her like this when she undressed? It was creepy, surely?

But no, she told herself. And she knew this wasn’t being rational because he was her son. But surely, he should have grown out of this by now.

Today she felt some of the same concern, but lately there’d been something else she been feeling too, something she couldn’t confess, even to herself. But it was unmistakable. Excitement.

She looked into the mirror, trying to catch a sign of movement, proof that he was watching her, but in the subdued light of her bedroom, and the dark of the space beyond, she could see nothing. She listened for him. Nothing; just the quiet ticking of the central heating, and the distant rumble of the traffic outside.

But she knew he was there.

She continued brushing her hair, pulling her robe tight around her. She felt deeply conflicted.

Why did he look at her like this? She was 42 years old; she could see the give-away lines on her face, the strands of grey in her hair when the dye had washed out.

She appraised herself in the mirror, trying – despite her growing excitement – to make a dispassionate assessment of what she saw.

But she was cheating, she knew. Cheating herself. Because she’d made up her mind but could not admit it.

She’d got ready that night feeling oddly detached. Part of her refused to believe the things the other part of her was doing.

The preparation ritual had been elaborate. It was as if she was preparing for a date. It was a long time since she’d been on a date.

She’d carefully prepared her make-up. Not so much to be obvious. Enough to accentuate her natural beauty. She’d dabbed on her perfume. Now she was brushing her hair.

She forced her face to look calm, but her nipples had no such control. They were painfully obvious, crinkled, and tight, thrusting through the sexy robe she had knowingly selected, pulled tight against her breasts.

But still she tried to normalise the situation.

Perhaps it was just love, innocent love, a son for his mother, she’d told herself many times before. But she knew she was kidding herself. She knew now there was much more to it than that.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It swelled her chest, and her shape in the mirror looked pleasing to her. She was a good-looking woman, she knew.

Things were coming to a head. It was time to sort this out, for better or for worse.

She didn’t feel guilty any-more. Well, she did feel guilty, but it was a different sort of guilt. She – and she could still barely believe it – but at least she had the consolation of encouragement from her husband, for what she was about to do. Probably.

With a sudden movement, almost shocking in the stillness of her room, she turned to face the door.

“Paul,” she said in a low voice, “Are you there?”

There was no response, but she was sure this time that she heard his intake of breath, out there in the dark.

“Paul, I know you’re there…” she repeated in the same low voice, “Come here.”

Slowly she heard a sound, a shuffling of feet, a long exhaling of breath. He must have been about to expire.

“Come here,” she said again, more insistently this time.

After a long pause, he stepped out of the shadows and edged towards the warm light of her room.

***

“So, what’s worrying you?” Rachel’s husband Gavin asked her as they sat at the dining table several weeks earlier.

There was just the two of them now. Paul was away at university and the house seemed very quiet. Rachel missed him more than she had anticipated. The worry and tension of the period leading up to his departure – the exams, the results, the college interviews, the decisions, the unknowns – were replaced now with a different sort of worry.

He’d always been a shy, introverted boy. Lacking in self-confidence, though God knows why – he was a good-looking intelligent young man, from a loving family.

He was bookish and studious, rarely putting himself out there, like so many of the young people she knew. He was slight, of average height, very slim, with a slightly feminine grace which seemed unusual compared to the clumsy youths she saw careering around the college where she worked. He sometimes seemed a little younger than his twenty years.

But she thought he was beautiful. That was the right word, she’d mused; beautiful. He was graceful, with fine cheek bones, unblemished skin, a mop of thick hair, red and glowing like hers in the right light, striking eyes, and an aquiline look to his face.

Of course, she was biased, but she was sure she was right about him. He could have been a model if he’d been taller and wasn’t so ill at ease with himself.

She’d hoped university life would be the making of him. Away from his mother’s skirts, out there on his own, an independent life would bring him out of his shell, she thought. Now though, almost a year later, she was not so sure.

During their frequent face-time conversations she’d seen the same shy boy that left home. He was chatty, clever, and she loved their conversations about his studies, about the books he was reading.

At least he’d at long last acquired a social life, but whenever she inquired delicately about his love life, he’d clam up, flush and stutter just like he did when he was sixteen.

Rachel shook the far-away look from her face and regarded her husband, Gavin.

“It’s Paul, of course,” she began. He sighed. She did not need to explain further.

They’d had this sort of conversation before on various occasions. He’d usually tell her not to worry, that he would grow out of it, that she was being too clingy; that she was over-analysing.

But she’d never dared to discuss her real concern, about what lay at the heart of her fears. And she’d certainly never revealed her own reciprocal feelings.

“I think, in a way, it’s my fault,” she began carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“His awkwardness… his shyness with girls… you know what I’m talking about.”

He smiled, as if he knew what she was trying to say.

“I’ve probably mothered him too much. We’ve spent too much time together. I haven’t given him a chance.”

“That’s rubbish,” he said, quite forcibly.

She looked at him, surprised. She was only getting started.

“He’s had plenty of opportunities, but he doesn’t take them. He’s shy. I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot. You’re not the only one who notices you know. I reckon he needs someone to help him a little. I’ve seen it before…”

“What do you mean, you’ve seen it before?”

“He needs a confidence boost…”

“Well, that’s obvious!” she exploded, “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say…” Sort of.

He nodded, staring at her quite calmly, despite her outburst.

“Anyway, what do you mean, you’ve seen it before?”

Again, he ignored her question.

“You could probably help him.”

The conversation was not what she anticipated. She was nonplussed.

“He’s got a thing about you, hasn’t he?”

She gasped, shaking her head – her instinctive reaction was to deny it. But he pressed on.

“Look, I thought it would go away. I thought he’d grow out of it. I’ve kept quiet. But I’m not blind. I’ve wondered what I should say, but since we’re talking about it at last, I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about.”

She shook her head again. She’d started it, but now she feared where this was going.

“He’s in love with you. Or in lust with you maybe. He wants you…”

She was open mouthed, staring at the table. There was a long moment of silence.

“You know what you’re saying don’t you?” she whispered.

“Yes, I know exactly what I’m saying.”

She was still staring at the table.

He waited for her to come round.

“Well, what are you saying?” she asked, forcing her eyes up to his, barely able to face her husband of 22 years.

She was stunned at how he’d read the situation. She’d always – unfairly it now seemed – thought he failed to notice the subtle signs. That she and her son had a special connection which he could not possibly understand.

She was stunned even more that he was prepared to talk about it with such apparent calm.

She’d twisted herself in knots about this. Agonised. Wondered whether she could ever talk to him about it. Feared his angry dismissal. His scorn and disgust. Thought they’d never get to this point, and that if they ever did, she’d have to reveal herself as a sick and twisted woman. A mother with unnatural desires. That she’d put her precious marriage, and their little family unit in jeopardy.

But now all this was running away from her. And not in the direction she assumed.

He looked back at her, still remarkably calm. She was churning inside.

“OK, I’ll spell it out. I’m saying that I think he wants to have sex with you.”

Her head was spinning, her heart banging against her chest.

“And I think you should have sex with him.”

She exploded. What was it – relief, shock, anger, guilt, horror, lust? Whatever it had been, she couldn’t face it and fled the room, up the stairs, and sat clutching herself on the bed, unconsciously rocking back and forth.

Wisely, he left her to her thoughts for a while.

An hour or so later, a bit calmer, she forced herself to come down and once again they found themselves back facing each other again across the kitchen table.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he said, after a long pause.

She didn’t answer. Even now he’d indicated his permission, she couldn’t answer.

“I’ve seen him looking at you,” he said, “I know that look. Can’t say I blame him… You’re really something to look at…”

At this she shook her head. “Don’t be facetious. This isn’t a joke. You know what you’re suggesting.”

“Yes, I know exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“It’s so wrong… You know that it’s… ” She couldn’t bring herself to say the “I” word. She sighed deeply, “It’s,” she cast around for a word of sufficient import, “It’s disgusting.”

He smiled and reached out and held her hand.

“Do you really think it’s disgusting? Really?” he asked gently.

She looked at him, unsure what to say. Surprised that, yet again, he had read her so well.

“I don’t know what I think.”

“You have thought about it, haven’t you?” he asked again. She shook her head.

“Come on Rachel, talk to me. I’m telling you, it’s OK – I’m OK with it.”

“Well, it’s not something very easy to talk about.” She gave another long pause.

“But yes, I suppose I have thought about it,” she finally conceded.

He smiled. At last. He’d seen the longing looks she gave her son. Just as he’d seen Paul’s puppyish devotion morph into something much more serious as the boy turned into a man.

“But wouldn’t it just make him worse?”

She continued after a while, “You know, wouldn’t it feed this… obsession?”

“I honestly don’t know. It’s a risk I know,” he said. It was true, he really was not sure about it, but he continued, “I think he has a real problem with his self-confidence. And it doesn’t look like spending time away from you has improved things much. I mean how much time does he spend on FaceTime with you?”

“I think it would help him. Make him feel better about himself. Give him a boost. Make him ready to meet other women.”

“What about me? How would I feel?”

“I don’t know – how would you feel?”

“I don’t know… I guess I’ve asked myself that question a lot… And haven’t come up with an answer.”

“It’s not exactly normal parental behaviour I know… But Rachel I’ve thought about this a lot, and I think it could be something special…. a very special kind of love.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She was incredulous that they were having this discussion.

“I can’t believe you’re talking about this so calmly. Do you realise what you’re suggesting I do? You’re my husband and you’re saying I should be unfaithful. And with our son of all people. God knows what it would do to him… and me.”

“OK, I see your point,” he said, stroking her hand. “It’s OK really…”

“So, let’s take it one step at a time. For one thing you wouldn’t be unfaithful if I’m suggesting you do it. Yes, he’s our son, and you know what that means. But well, I guess I don’t find it as shocking, or unthinkable, as most people do.”

He paused. Now he wasn’t sure how far he should go.

She stared. This was a side of him she’d never seen before.

“And what would it do to him?” he continued, “Well it’s clearly what he wants isn’t it? He’s an adult. You wouldn’t be abusing him or anything. You’d be doing it to help him, not harm him.”

There was another long pause, while she digested all this, still disbelieving.

“I was a teenage boy once…”

“He’s 20. Shouldn’t he have grown out of this by now? This Oedipal thing you describe.”

He continued, picking his words carefully.

“I was his age once. I think I know what he’s feeling.”

She was staring at him. It was his turn to shift his eyes down to the table. She remembered her unanswered question from earlier.

“You said you’d seen it before. You have, haven’t you?”

“Was it in someone else?”

He shook his head, and with a shocking realisation, she got it.

“Did you and your mother?” Her voice trailed off, still not even sure how to say the words.

She’d only met Gavin when he was in his late twenties. He was fifty now and eight years older than her.

He seemed like an older, confident well-adjusted man at the time, and she tried to picture him as a young, confused teenager. His mother, Gloria, had been a striking woman in those days, and even now was still beautiful.

He nodded slowly.

“You look surprised…” he said.

“Everything about this is pretty shocking. Scandalous even. It’s hard to get my head around. Did you… Really?”

“Yes, I did. We did.”

He seemed upset, admitting it. His deepest darkest secret.

He took a deep breath. She stroked his hand, trying to reassure him.

The load finally off his shoulders, he described to her that period of his life before he knew her. The sexual confusion he’d felt back then, and how his mother had quietly and lovingly helped him. Made him a man. He described something beautiful and loving. Not at all sordid and dirty.

“We’ll look, just think about it,” he said as they sat at the kitchen table, “It’s up to you obviously. But I’ve said what I think.”

For weeks it felt like she thought of little else. He was due home for the long summer holidays soon, and while she missed him terribly, she was growing increasingly anxious about his return, and what might happen.

But she had to admit that she was excited too, turned on, and increasingly horny as the days went by until his return. But apprehensive, wary, scared, confused.

The more she thought about it though, the more she could see the strange logic of her husband’s advice. And she surprised herself at her intense desire to know more about Gavin’s relationship with his mother Gloria.

Gradually she prized some stories out of him. How as a teenager he’d become obsessed with his gorgeous mother’s curvy body.

How he’d peeked on her so much that he was caught one day. The inevitable show-down which followed, and his tearful confession, how he professed his love and desire for her, and how she gradually softened, and was maybe even flattered by his attentions. How she seemed to be neglected by Gavin’s father.

One night she persuaded him to tell her about their first time together, the night he lost his virginity. He described an almost mystical experience, which clearly meant so much to him, even now decades later. His words were so full of love that it brought tears to her eyes.

Far from seeming sordid, he recounted what became a gentle, warm, and loving relationship, full of touching intimacy.

Reflecting on it later she realised that it was a vital transition period for him, with Gloria teaching her son, encouraging him, and giving him the confidence to make his own way in the world.

She was struck time and time again at how it struck a chord with their own situation. She put herself in Gloria’s shoes (a sexy set of high heels one night, according to Gavin) and she was incredibly turned on by the stories.

She would have loved to ask Gloria herself about it for a mother’s perspective, but how do you raise a subject like that?

It did wonders for Rachel and Gavin’s rather stale sex life. They found themselves at each other like newly-weds. Gavin was delighted, but sometimes couldn’t help wondering who she was thinking of when she cried out in ecstasy in his arms.

To be honest, it turned him on even more, thinking of his handsome son with his beautiful mother, and the ecstasy and intimacy they could both experience together.

He became determined to find a way to witness it in some way.

Rachel forced herself to stay bright and breezy during her regular phone calls and video chats with Paul. And as she looked at him on the screen, she tried to picture them together. It would be awkward, she was sure, but more than anything she felt a burning love for him. She felt sympathy for his predicament. Could she really be the key to set him free? To make him more at ease with himself.

She fantasised about being his teacher, his confidant, his sexual soulmate. She started to picture him as a lover.

The last few weeks had reminded Rachel how she was a deeply sexual woman, but that the grinding reality of long married years had thwarted her desires. Now in her forties, she was once again experiencing the sex-drive she remembered as a young woman. She masturbated frequently, but now allowed herself to fantasise about her son.

For some years now during their infrequent love-making sessions she allowed her mind to drift, replacing Gavin’s soft body with the sleek hard firmness of a young man, a faceless young man, who’s ardour and sexual energy matched hers.

She’d had fantasies about students at the college where she worked. But she would never have dreamt of acting on them. Now she found herself dreaming about Paul. Trying to imagine him naked.

He was very private about his body, and she hadn’t seen him unclothed in years. He was slight, and slim, but well-built. He was strong, for his rather average height, but not muscle-bound or anything. He was the bookish type.

What was his cock like? Average, she presumed, based on what he might have inherited from his father.

Paul certainly was not the cocky type. She’d had a few lovers before she met Gavin. One had been very well-endowed, but unfortunately, he really knew it. She shuddered, remembering his cocksure arrogance, but nonetheless she often fantasised about him, or at least about his big dick and their breath-taking encounters together.

She wanted to ask Gavin about Paul. The two of them sometimes played sport together, and he must have seen him naked. But she was worried about seeming too prurient. The last thing she wanted was to make Gavin feel like a cuckold.

But her mind wandered back to a comment he’d made on one occasion, long before their shocking conversation. She’d joked, in a slightly despairing way, at how he never seemed to have any long-term girlfriends.

Gavin had said that if he ever found a woman, she’d be very satisfied. At the time she thought it was a compliment about his kind and caring personality. But now she was viewing him differently she wondered if his comment was more salacious than that.

She found herself spending a huge amount of time analysing her own behaviour around Paul before he left for university. She could admit to herself now that she’d grown somewhat flirtatious with him, and sometimes dressed in sexy clothes with him in mind.

She thought about how he would follow her round sometimes, how his eyes often seemed to rove over her body. She was used to this from men – on her slim body her breasts had always been very prominent – but from Paul it disturbed and excited her.

He was often complimentary about what she was wearing, especially when it was tight and clingy. He seemed to genuinely like hanging out with her, unlike some friends who despaired of their teenage sons.

He was not overly demonstrative in his affections but would kiss her warmly when he arrived home, and sometimes they sat and cuddled together on the sofa watching television.

In so many ways he was everything she could have ever asked for as a son. He didn’t get in trouble, didn’t do drugs, as far as she knew, didn’t drink excessively, and didn’t get girls pregnant. Perhaps she should beware of what she wished for.

But then there were the times when she felt him watching her as she got ready for bed. Somehow, he’d be there as she scurried to or from the bathroom in her skimpy underwear, her nipples so prominent, his eyes so wide.

She was concerned about it at first, but she didn’t want to shut him out, or make him feel bad. She worried that she was mis-interpreting things.

Many people would have thought his behaviour creepy. But she didn’t. She was biased of course but she knew it was love. And slowly she felt the same kind of feelings towards him. He was a gorgeous, and yes – she could admit it – a sexy young man.

And, now that she’d opened the door, she felt a vicarious thrill at the thought of those voyeuristic eyes in the darkness, as she imagined his straining erection and noted the frequent self-pleasure noises she heard from behind the closed door of his room.

Was he thinking of her, as he lay there? She tried to picture the scene. Him propped up in bed naked, his erection in hand, eyes closed. Yes, she was sure, he was thinking of her.

Finally, the summer holidays came round, and Paul came home. Rachel and Gavin had not discussed it again, and she felt that he was trying not to put any pressure on her. For that she was grateful, but by now her mind was fairly made up.

Gavin was away on one of his frequent business trips, and Rachel and Paul had a few days together at home before she felt him there outside the bedroom, in the dark.

***

“Paul, I know you’re there… Come here,” she said, her heart pounding.

Slowly he shuffled into the room. He was wearing a white towelling bath robe, and was clutching himself around the waist band, looking anxious, embarrassed, and scared.

“Sit down, darling. It’s alright, don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

He sat down awkwardly on the bed, like a scolded child, still holding himself, looking at her with wide nervous eyes.

“Paul, why do you watch me out there?”

“I only…. I just… I….” He stuttered.

“Paul, I know you’ve been there before. I know you sometimes watch me as I’ve been getting undressed. I want to know why?”

His mouth opened and closed. He was red and flushed. He looked panic stricken.

“Darling, it’s OK, please don’t worry. I’m not angry”.

“I just want to know what’s going on. Why do you look at me like that?”

Still nothing.

“Well, look,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “I guess maybe I’m a little flattered. I’m assuming you like what you see?”

He looked dumb founded now.

“Mum…” He began but didn’t get very far.

“It’s OK – just tell me. I’m not angry.”

“Mum, I love you… I just want to see you. To see your body. You’re so beautiful…. I love you…”

His words fell out in a tumble. He stared at her, like a rabbit in the headlights.

“Oh Paul, I love you too…. But you know you shouldn’t be doing that”.

“I know, I know… but I can’t help it. I just find myself drawn to you… I think about you… all the time…” He paused, staring at the floor.

She listened, as her suspicions proved correct.

“I thought it would go away when I left home. But it hasn’t. And now I’m home, it’s probably worse if anything. I just need to be close to you…”

“Oh Paul….”

She sat down next to him, kissed his cheek, and took his hand in hers.

He looked at her anxiously.

She stroked his fingers. Their thighs were touching. She could feel the heat coursing between the two of them. He had tears in his eyes.

“Mum, I’m sick, I know… Some sort of sick pervert… ”

“No!” she almost shouted. He looked surprised.

“Don’t say that… no, that’s not right. Please don’t say that…”

“But mum,” what I’m feeling about you… it’s not right…”

She shook her head vigorously.

“What I want to do with you… it’s wrong….”

“No Paul,” she said firmly. “It’s OK…. really, it’s OK”.

He stared at her anxiously.

“Paul, my love, it is honestly OK” she whispered, looking him in the eye, “Because I feel the same about you.”

She took one of his hands which had been clutching himself and squeezed it. She lifted it to her lips and kissed it. Then holding his hand, she leaned over to him and kissed him gently on the lips.

Paul, overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions, was mute for a moment, his lips tense. But slowly, as she pressed on, he began to relax and kiss her back.

Sitting there, chastely on the bed together, the two of them, mother and son, kissed gently, but slowly their bodies started to respond to each other. She stroked the back of his head with one hand.

And their kisses got deeper and deeper.

***

Gavin had spent the whole of his business trip distracted, wondering if this would be the moment Rachel seized the opportunity. He was sure that Paul would never dare to make the first move.

Ever since their explosive discussion together he’d been watching her carefully for signs of her feelings. She’d quizzed him about his own relationship with his mother, and he could see how their late-night talks had turned her on.

This encouraged him to open-up and tell her more.

Their sex life together had even been transformed, something he had not been expecting.

He was careful not to push her, or even ask her about her intentions with Paul. He knew how conflicted she must be about his outrageous suggestions.

But he sensed that she was softening and coming to terms with what he’d said.

And she certainly never ridiculed him or made him feel uncomfortable, depraved, or ashamed of either what he’d done as a young man, or what he was encouraging her to do with Paul.

For that, he was grateful. It had been his darkest secret. And he was hopeful now that something beautiful – yes, he told himself – something beautiful would come of it.

He had trouble analysing his own motivations. His intentions, he thought, were a mix of love – love for his wife and his son – and a wish for Paul to experience something of the intimacy and sexual awareness he discovered with his own mother.

But he was also aware that sexually, he’d become obsessed with the phenomena of mother-son incest.

Presumably because of his own experiences he had been drawn to it, and in his younger years he’d avidly read the dirty, shady, and frankly shameful books and magazines which specialised in this fetish.

But now with the internet providing a never-ending stream of such stories, he was on the one-hand at last satiated in his lust for mother-son stories, but also rather gratified and shocked that so many others seemed to share his lurid desires.

Perhaps he was not so weird, so deviant after-all, he reasoned.

But he never dared confess his desires to Rachel, and his fascination with those stories was something he saved for late-night sessions in his home-office when he was supposedly working, or something he indulged during his business trips away in a hotel room somewhere.

Until their discussion, he did not allow himself to think about Rachel and Paul together sexually. He was worried it might degrade his love for them with something he knew was sordid and disgusting.

His fantasies had taken the form of a beautiful mature woman and her handsome, strapping son. But they were nameless, faceless.

It was only in recent months that he’d started to prise back the rusting bolts and open Pandora’s box, to put identities to those two faceless characters who he knew had probably always been Rachel and Paul.

Then his fantasies had taken off, thinking of them making love together whenever he let his mind wander.

Rachel was a truly beautiful woman, who he genuinely believed had grown more desirable as she aged. She had always been careful about what she ate and had a punishing exercise routine, to his chagrin.

While she’d honed her stunning figure, he’d allowed middle-aged spread to take over.

He still desired Rachel, but until recently their busy lives and the inevitable daily routine of long married years had seriously blunted their sex lives together.

But in Paul, he could clearly see the other half of his fantasy life made good. He was a good-looking young man, in great shape physically, despite his bookish love of academia.

He was certainly not a jock and had rarely indulged in laddish behaviour with his friends, but he shared his mother’s love of exercise, and Gavin tried to bond, and keep up with his son throughout his teenage years by swimming together and playing tennis.

He’d occasionally stolen glances at his son’s developing body with a rueful admiration when they were changing or showering after a game – something he was fairly certain Rachel had not experienced.

But the first time he noticed how well-endowed Paul had become was a shocking moment for him.

Paul had his back to him in the changing room and was drying himself off after a shower. He was always rather furtive on these occasions, choosing cubicles when available, changing hurriedly, and studiously avoiding any full-frontal contact.

He rather surmised that Paul must be small down there and was ashamed of displaying it somehow.

But that day his assumptions were shattered when Paul was awkwardly trying to put his boxers on his still wet legs, but the material kept snagging, allowing Gavin to see, from behind, Paul’s long cock dangling down between his legs, flopping about with the activity.

Not quite believing what he was seeing, Gavin quickly stepped around his son, heading to his locker, and he rummaged about inside, furtively glancing over at Paul.

From this angle he could see him clearly, and Gavin stared in shock at his son’s huge cock hanging there long and very thick, way down between his thighs.

Paul paused for a moment in his struggle when he saw the look on his father’s face. Reddening instantly, he forced his boxers up, and pulled them hurriedly around his waist, hiding himself away from his gawping parent.

It was a troubling moment for him, bringing back painful memories of school changing rooms, the shocked looks of classmates, the sniggering laughs, taunts, and name-calling which followed.

Father and son said nothing to each other. Gavin could see how uncomfortable Paul was, and avoided making any remark, much as he wanted to.

Knowing nothing about his son’s troubled school years because Paul was so intensely private about it, he nonetheless sensed that far from being proud of his endowment, Paul was actually ashamed of it.

Reflecting on it later, he wondered whether it had anything to do with Paul’s reticence with the opposite sex, and why Paul had failed to form any long-term relationships with girls.

He remembered his own awkward fumbling with girls as a teenager and imagined what some inexperienced youngster would do when confronted with a cock of that size. Run for the hills, he would imagine.

It started him thinking, after all for Gavin this really was not a stretch, that what Paul needed was an experienced older woman, someone who would make him appreciate the gift he had been given. It was not a leap to think of Rachel as that woman.

The encounter, and the subsequent conversation with his wife, turbo-charged Gavin’s fantasies of Rachel and Paul having sex together. And Rachel teaching Paul how to be a man.

But he did not tell her what he saw that day.

Something held him back. In part it was a feeling that whatever Rachel did, it should be done out of love for her son, and nothing to do with something as base as the size of his cock.

But partly – he was ashamed to admit because it was in complete contrast – it was that this revelation chimed perfectly with his own long-standing fantasies, and indeed those of many depicted in the stories he read. The faceless mothers of this fantasy life were invariably beautiful and busty. The sons were unfeasibly well-hung.

Somehow, if Rachel and Paul were to make love together, he wanted to witness the moment of discovery when the mother realised her son was so huge.

It set Gavin off on another track altogether, and one that he was deeply ashamed of because it involved a complete betrayal of trust, but nonetheless he could not resist.

He knew that Rachel would never agree for him to be there when she had sex with her son for the first time. He thought it unlikely she would agree to such a thing at any time. And Paul even less so.

He thought he might have been able to persuade her to tell him about it afterwards, but she’d never been very vocal in expressing her sexual desires, and he thought it doubtful that she would ever describe their encounters in the sort of detail he wanted to know.

So, despite his misgivings, Gavin purchased a good quality secret camera and sound system, linked to the internet, and set them up in several rooms around the house, wherever he thought they might make love together. And he waited, with ever increasing anticipation.

Gavin’s patience was finally rewarded.

Sitting there, utterly agog, in his hotel room, his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, he saw Paul summoned into the bedroom, and rejoiced at the quality of the picture. He listened with ever-growing excitement to the conversation they were having.

He saw Rachel lean over and kiss him, and he saw how their kisses grew with passion.

On the screen a mother and son were kissing longingly. It was truly the stuff of his fantasies. Only this was the mother and son he loved most in the world. A truly beautiful mother and her handsome son, who were about to experience, he hoped, the most incredible night of their lives together.

***

Rachel and Paul kissed with increasing passion. She was running her hands up and down his back, and he was doing the same to her. Gavin could see from the way the silky material of her robe slid across her perfect skin that Rachel was naked underneath.

Rachel took the dominant role. After long minutes of open-mouthed kissing, she pushed Paul back onto the bed, and straddled his waist, leaning over him and kissing all over his face.

From the way her robe gaped open, and from Paul’s wide staring eyes, it was clear that Rachel’s perfect tits were hanging down from her chest in full view for her son.

She saw what he was looking at, and smiled, sitting up on her haunches across his waist, and pulled open her robe further.

“Is this what you want to see?” she asked coquettishly.

“Oh mum, you are so beautiful,” he gasped.

“What you imagined?”

“God, so much better,” he said, mouth open, “and bigger than I thought, and your nipples…

“Yes, they’re pretty long, aren’t they?”

“They’re incredible… can I?”

She took hold of her son’s hands and pulled them to her tits and sighed as he rubbed and pawed at them, pulling her stiff nipples.

“Oh mum, you are so perfect…”

She moaned deeply as he continued to manipulate her tits, writhing in pleasure. He pulled himself up and leaned forward, mouth open, to enclose a long nipple between his lips.

She pulled her son to him and stroked his head with both hands as he sucked away, back at the nipples he once nursed at so many years ago. He swapped from one to another, all the while cupping her in his hands, as Rachel’s groans grew louder and louder.

It seemed like she was building to an orgasm, purely from his passionate ministrations to her tits.

Gavin had never seen her respond like this before. He was thrilled and slightly chastened that he had never managed to show the same kind of ardour as his inexperienced son.

Rachel was gasping in ecstasy.

“Oh, Paul,” she whimpered, “Paul…”

He paused for a moment and held her close, their faces pressed together.

“Love you, mum, love you”.

Behind her back, as she sat astride his waist, held in his arms, Gavin could see a considerable bulge under Paul’s towelling robe. His cock was hidden but straining like a crane, nudging against her back.

Rachel slowly came back to earth, and she kissed her son passionately.

“Hello?” she said, with a giggle.

“Mum?” he asked, with a happy smile. He lay back on the bed with a gasp.

“I can’t believe I’m here with you like this,” he said contentedly.

“Someone’s knocking at the door,” she said grinning.

He looked confused for a moment.

She reached behind her, pointing to the small of her back.

“Someone wants to say hello, back here,” she said, laughing again.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, looking a bit worried.

“About that mum…”

“And I want to say hello to him,” she interrupted, and started to shuffle backwards.

His bulge became trapped beneath her bottom, and her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, “what have we got here?”

“Mum, it’s…”

“It’s your cock, Paul, I know,” she said in a sultry tone. Paul fell silent, holding his breath.

She slid back onto his legs and looked intently at the protrusion beneath his robe.

“Paul, it’s…” she began to say, tentatively running her hand across the swollen ridge.

“Mum, it’s a bit big…”

“Yes, I’d noticed that” she said with a nervous laugh.

She continued to stroke along his length.

He sat up anxiously, staring at her hand as she smoothed down the towelling over his form, revealing the full shape of him. She took a deep breath.

“Paul let’s show ourselves to each other,” she said. “You want to see me, and I really want to see you.”

She pulled off her robe and knelt up above his legs. He stared at naked body in delight, instantly forgetting his predicament.

To him she was perfection, large firm breasts, narrow waist, wide flaring hips, long flowing hair, and the stunning face of a woman radiant in her passion.

“Mum, I feel like my heart is about to burst,” he gasped, “You are so beautiful.”

She smiled at his obviously sincere compliments.

“It’s not the only thing that’s about to burst,” she muttered, pulling at the ties to his robe.

She saw the anxious look return to his face.

“It’s OK,” she said soothingly. She could tell he was anxious about revealing himself to her, but she was now desperate to see. This so surpassed her expectations.

She pulled the robe apart and opened it up as he lay spread out before her.

“Oh, Paul…” she whispered in awe.

His huge cock reared up over his belly, stretching past his belly button, its thick head resting like a large plum on his diaphragm.

Visibly throbbing, and massively thick, it was deep red with engorged blood, crimson at its wide bulbous head, as a drop of clear liquid eased from the tip.

“Paul, you’re huge,” she gasped, reaching out to stroke its length.

“I had no idea,” she said, almost to herself.

Propped up on his elbows he was watching, transfixed, as her fingers ran lightly along his length, glancing at her face as he did so, trying to read her reaction.

She settled her hand around the shaft in the middle, where it seemed to be at its widest, before tapering towards the head, where it flared out noticeably.

She could not reach around but ran her cupped hand and curled fingers up and down, tightening her grip.

“Mum is it OK? Is it too big?” Paul whispered.

“Paul, it’s the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen,” she said to him.

Her sincerity was clear, and he relaxed back onto the bed with a groan, enjoying her hand squeezing along his length.

“It’s absolutely incredible,” she continued, “It’s beautiful.”

She dipped her finger into the lubrication pooling on his skin, rubbing it between her fingers.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t know they came this big,” she laughed.

He looked at her, a silent question.

“Paul, I love it. I really love it.”

He smiled, so relieved.

“Paul, I love you”.

She leaned down and kissed him slowly on the lips.

“And I’m going to make love to you, in a few minutes.”

“Mum really?”

She kissed him again, a long lingering kiss. Tits rubbing against his chest. Hand gripping his cock.

“Yes, my beautiful son, Mummy’s going to make love to you, so very, very slowly, and we’re going to fit all of your beautiful big cock deep, deep – oh so deep – inside me,” she said slowly and deliberately.

“Mum,” he gasped, and stiffened.

She rose a little, hand tight around his cock as it started spurting, pouring huge rushes of come over his chest and onto her tits.

Paul moaned and thrust his hips wildly. More come shot forward, painting his neck and her upper chest, wide thick lines splashed across their skin.

He slumped back with a long sigh.

“Oh wow,” she sighed, “So much, for mummy,”

“God mum, I couldn’t hold back. You’ve got me so excited,”

“Yes, I can see that,” she grinned, looking down at herself. She leant down and rubbed her creamy tits against his gooey chest.

“Oh mum,” he said, and pulled her face to his, kissing her wildly, then long, and slow.

Gradually they pulled apart, sticky strands pulling with their departing skin.

“Think I better clean up,” she said, as she climbed off him and walked to the bathroom, returning with a hand towel.

“Such a messy boy,” she tut-tutted jokingly, “always making Mummy clean up after him,”

She rubbed the towel along his cock, and mopped his chest, before using the clean side on herself, rubbing the thick white flecks from her breasts, making them wobble alluringly.

Paul’s cock, which had seemed to lose none of his length, noticeably thickened again, as she rubbed away, seeing the effect it was having on him.

She slowly shook her breasts from side to side and laughed as he groaned in adoration.

“Oh, you really do like mummy’s tits, don’t you son?”

“Mum, I’ve been so desperate to see them for so long,” he said.

“I noticed.”

“Sorry for staring,”

“Oh, it’s OK,” she dropped her voice low as if telling him a secret, “To be honest, you’ve had an incredible effect on me of late, with your rather obvious attentions,” she smiled.

“Oh?”

“You’ve given me a new lease of life,” she continued, “When a woman hits her forties, she sometimes thinks its downhill from here, literally sometimes…”

She cupped her breasts in her hands, pushing them up her chest.

“… as everything starts to head south, and your sex life ebbs away. Frankly, I’d stopped feeling like a sexy woman, until you lit my fire again.”

“Really mum?”

“Honestly, being so clearly lusted after by a gorgeous young man like you, even if you are my son, well, it has given me quite a rush, I’ll admit.”

His eyes were bright as she described the effect he’d had on her. So eager to please, like an over-awed child, lying there on her marital bed, but now rigid again with desire. A man-child.

Oh, such a man, she thought eying his shocking tumescence.

“Well, that didn’t take you long, did it?” she raised an eyebrow. “Are we in for a long night?”

He leapt up onto his feet and gathered her into his arms, his body enveloping hers, his rampant cock rearing up between her breasts.

He nuzzled her neck and stroked her back.

“I think it might be a long night,” he whispered. “I’ve dreamt about this for so long.”

Gavin, their unknown watcher, lay back on the bed in his hotel room, his penis erect again after spraying copiously a few minutes earlier. Whatever misgivings he’d had about his betrayal of their trust was drowned out by the passion he was witnessing on the screen.

He shook his head at his own extreme arousal. He hadn’t got hard again so quickly for years. But he doubted he’d keep up with his son as the night went on.

It was everything he’d dreamed of and more, and oddly he didn’t feel any jealousy that this was his wife being made to love to in front of him. He could see her pleasure, and he could see his pleasure. He closed his eyes and remembered his own pleasure years ago with his mother.

Rachel and Paul kissed deeply, and then she pulled him down onto the bed, and he rolled on top of her.

He wiped away the hairs from across her face and kissed her gently on the lips, and then the neck, and then her upper chest. She groaned as she realised where he was going.

Paul lavished attention to her breasts. He stroked them, squeezed them, and played with her tight nipples. He pulled at them gently and wrapped his lips around them.

He loved how long her nipples felt in his mouth, as he sucked and sucked.

Rachel accompanied his attentions with a continual non-verbal commentary of groans and moans and encouragement. She arched her chest, thrusting her tits into his eager mouth.

Eventually his kiss-journey continued downwards, across her flat stomach and down to the carefully trimmed nest of hairs which hid her vagina. He paused, inches away, inhaling her warm scent. This was something he never imagined he’d see.

Her encouraging moans urged him on. He extended his cautious tongue, gently touching its tip to her clit. She squeaked in glee, so he continued, gently licking her hard little bud, relishing its unusual texture.

He extended his licking journey along her groove, returning to her clitoris for fleeting, teasing kisses. He noted the tone of the noises she made as he explored, creating a mental map of her pleasure zones.

Her juices were flowing freely now, and her scent overwhelmed him. His cock had never felt harder, and he groaned in pleasure as her clutching hands reached down his chest and seemed to be clutching for his manhood.

He shifted position the other way, moving his body up the bed while his face remained embedded in her wet pussy. He was freely licking and sucking her with abandon.

He sighed as he felt her groping hand reach his dick and clamp around its solid form. She gripped and stroked him in synch with his licks below.

Both were now groaning in pleasure, Paul with his face buried deep in his mother’s pussy, Rachel as she fisted his cock. She pulled him closer to him, and he guessed with a jolt that she wanted to suck him, just as he sucked her.

He moved again, bringing his cock within range, and had to pause for a moment as he felt her exquisite soft tongue exploring his sensitive cockhead.

He continued to lick her, and she licked him, mother and son swept away on a wave of intense pleasure.

But it got far too intense for Rachel, as his tongue, now joined by a finger, built, and built her into a huge climax. She thrust her head away, mouth open agape, as wordless cries filled the room.

Her body jerked, her juices flowed, as her pants, gasps and cries peaked. Paul paused his actions and drank in her musky smell as she flailed, and stretched, and writhed.

When she finally seemed to be calming, he licked again at her clit, but she reached down and grabbed his head to stop him.

“No, no… too sensitive…”

He stopped, amazed at what he’d done to her, and pulled his body back to lie down next to her. He stroked her sweaty hair from her face, and gently kissed her cheek, snuggling into her neck and wrapping his arms around her.

“God, baby, that was so fucking good”.

They lay together feeling so content. Two warm bodies intertwined.

***

Gavin watched spellbound.

He thought she’d be teaching him, but it seemed like they were teaching each other. He thought he’d be clumsy and awkward. He seemed confident and self-assured.

After Paul’s initial wariness and concern, he’d quickly relaxed, and the two of them were moving together like they’d been doing it together forever.

He seemed to read her body so quickly, so naturally, that Gavin felt unexpected respect for his son.

Clearly whatever fears he’d had had been quickly assuaged, by Rachel’s obvious desire. She was as entranced by him as he was of her.

After hugging her close, he rolled onto his back, and Rachel followed, half propped along his side, and slid her hand down to close around his cock, lifting it up away from his body.

Gavin looked at them together, feeling a surge of jealousy. God that boy was hung! Even his fantasies had not done his son justice. How had he fathered such a specimen?

He had no idea how genes passed down the inheritance line and wondered if his own father had been so exuberantly endowed. He doubted it and had never been given that impression by his mother, despite their intimacy.

He’d carefully avoided digging for comparisons, aware that he was rather average, and his mother had seemed more than happy with what he had to offer.

Maybe Paul had got it from Rachel’s side of the family. After all she was the one with the beautiful body.

Were other men on her side of the family so blessed? With a shock, he pictured Rachel’s brother Steve, and wondered if he also had a big dick.

And, letting his fantasies run wild, he wondered if Rachel and Steve ever indulged in curious youthful exploration.

Looking at Paul now lying next to his mother, he could see that he was slim and well put together, but far from some sort of hulk. On Paul’s slight build, as his mother stroked him, his rampant cock looked way out of proportion.

He thought he knew how Paul was feeling – such intimacy with the woman who loved him most in the world. But he was also now jealous of his prodigious gift, and the talent he was already showing as a lover.

***

Paul turned to Rachel. “Mum, can we…”

She smiled, “Make love?”

Still, he was a bit shy with her.

He nodded eagerly. Like a man-child again.

Her actions spoke for themselves as she rolled onto her back, and slowly and deliberately spread her legs for her son.

Paul knelt between her legs, holding his erect cock in his hand, pausing to savour the moment.

He lowered himself over her body and poised there, leant down and gave her a quick kiss. She reached down for his cock and took hold, and slowly rubbed his broad head up and down her leaking pussy.

“Mum, wait, do I need a condom?” he asked suddenly.

She smiled and kissed him back.

“Thanks for asking. I’m proud of you. But no, I’m on the pill.”

He smiled in relief, and she continued to bathe his organ with her lubrication.

She positioned him carefully.

“Now, very, very slowly, push… just the head.”

He pushed, a fraction of an inch at a time.

Her mouth started to open, in line with the way her pussy was dilating.

He pushed, staring intently at her face, looking for signs of pain.

She gasped and gave out a deep “Oh…” and he stopped.

“It’s OK… it’s OK, keep pushing, just the head…”

He pushed again, and slipped slowly inside, then stopped again.

She’d never felt anything like it before. He was cleaving her aside like no-one she’d ever experienced.

She felt deeply stretched. It felt uncomfortable, but she tried not to let him know.

They stared at each other, wide eyed.

“Mum, you feel so tight,” he whispered.

“You’re so big,” she said, “But I want you to continue.”

“Just carry on, really slowly.”

He carefully re-positioned himself on his knees and elbows over her, and slid a couple more inches into her, and stopped again.

It felt a little easier now.

She looked down at their coupling. His broad shaft still had a long way to go.

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, and they kissed for a long time, open mouthed, tongues searching.

Maybe the distraction helped, because she felt herself yielding to him, softening, and moulding to his shape.

As they kissed, he sensed her relaxation and pushed a few more inches inside.

“Oh,” she breathed deeply into his open mouth.

He pulled back, seeming to suck her clinging flesh back with him as he went and pushed forward again, regaining the ground, and delving further.

He was deep inside her now, and again they paused and kissed. The urge to thrust must have been strong, but Paul held himself back.

“A bit more,” she urged, and he continued.

He was almost there now, and she could feel him so deep inside. She felt a rush of overwhelming love for her son who was ever so gently spearing her. Splitting her like no-one had ever done before. Claiming her for himself.

He stopped. Their hips pushed together. She’d taken everything he had to give.

“Oh, I love you,” she cried in ecstasy.

“I love you,” he said, head down, forehead to forehead, as he burrowed his arms beneath her and they fused, one body, son deep inside his mother.

They stayed like this for a long time, kissing sometimes, and inhaling each other’s warm scent. Her adjusting to his size. Him still not quite believing.

She could feel him throbbing inside her in time with his heartbeat. Just these tiny movements were enough to bring waves of pleasure, which began to grow and grow, as at last he began to withdraw and push back.

She lay back and abandoned herself to his slow pushes.

His pace slowly increased, and with it the length of his insertions.

When he sensed she was no longer feeling any discomfort, he pulled his hips far back and slowly pushed almost his whole length in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

His pace was still slow, but relentless.

He seemed never-ending to her as she surrendered herself to him, feeling helpless and no longer in control.

She was rising and rising on waves of what began to feel like almost continuous orgasm.

He’s so thick, so long. I’m so full, she thought. Never felt anything like this before.

He’s my son…

She cried out, louder now, and his relentless rhythm was starting to break, her cries spurring him on, bringing his climax suddenly to the fore.

Crying and clutching him to her, she gave a long groan and he stopped moving, recognising her approaching moment of crisis.

But even though he was desperate to prolong the ecstasy, his desperate urges, his need to come, could not be delayed any further, and he began to thrust quickly, deep inside her, even as her own cries grew ever louder.

“Mum… mum…” he gasped.

He instinctively pushed as deep as he could go, and she yelped. His legs stiffening, he ejaculated enormously into her. Never had he felt such a volume rush out of him, as he squeezed and squeezed, and came and came. It seemed to last for ages.

She shrieked, almost making his ears ring.

His head was buried in her neck, their hips jammed together, and they gradually slowed their mutual humping to a close, and finally lay still at last, hearts thumping, chests heaving, long breaths together.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, after many minutes had passed.

He grunted and began to roll off her.

Their wet skin was stuck together, but they prized themselves apart and he pulled back exiting her with a wet thud, as he flopped down beside her, his long, wet dick lying limp and exhausted across his hip.

Eventually, he spoke, cautiously clearing his throat.

“Mum, I can’t quite believe it…”

More minutes passed as mother and son adjusted to a new reality.

She shifted, propping herself up on her elbows and looked down at her pussy, suddenly aware of the wetness dripping out of her.

She leapt up off the bed, leaving a large wet patch behind her and grabbed for the towel lying scattered on the floor alongside their robes.

She clutched it to her, and eyed him, her slumbering son lying prostrate.

“Think you were trying to drown me”.

He grunted.

She dabbed away, then walked to the bathroom for a more serious clean up.

Paul lay still, dimly aware of the sound of a shower switching on.

When she returned, she was wearing a clean robe, not quite as sexy as earlier, but still revealing her form.

Paul was by now sound asleep.

She nudged him and he shifted, groaning, slowly opening his eyes.

How many times had she woken him, she wondered? Never quite like this.

He looked around, and smiled at her, reaching out for her hand.

“Mum,” he said.

She sniffed the air. The stink of their sex lay heavy in the room. His body still glistened with sweat and other fluids.

She squeezed his hand. What do they do now?

Her thoughts had never got this far. She’d failed to properly think through the next step.

There’d been vague ideas about a heart to heart, a long and deep conversation about his many insecurities, some re-assurances from her, warm confidence-building encouragement, words of praise if he’d failed to rise to the occasion, but predictions of a great future with women of his own, armed with the skill and experience she could teach him.

None of that seemed to be needed right now.

The whole encounter was, she thought, in a word: spectacular.

So, she switched to practical mum mode.

“You stink – go and have a shower,” she commanded briskly.

He groaned and groaned again. Son mode.

She tugged on his hand. “Go on.”

He dragged himself to his feet, grumbling still, and padded off to the bathroom.

She sat down on the bed and looked round at the wreckage.

Better change the bed, she thought.

She paused for a moment, and looked around the room, eyes suddenly drawn to the camera lens, hidden amongst the books on the shelf.

She lurched forwards, examining what she saw, her eyes narrowed in anger.

“And you can turn that fucking thing off now,” she commanded sharply.

***

Gavin flinched. In shock. Lazing there in the wreckage of his own bed, the cold stains of his solo stimulation still lying clumped on his pale body.

On auto his hand hovered obediently to the laptop, and clicked the programme closed.

“Oh shit,” he said to the silent room.

***

When Paul re-emerged from the bathroom freshly showered, hair washed, teeth cleaned, he found an utterly domestic scene.

His mother was smoothing down the newly made bed, and there were two hot cups of tea on either side.

He had to smile at the contrast.

She sat down and patted the bed beside her.

In the bathroom he’d debated what to wear. Was he now son, or lover?

He’d opted for a clean pair of boxers and nothing else. Now he felt distinctly under-dressed.

He sat. She handed him a cup of tea. They sipped politely.

His stomach churned. How had frantic rutting turned to awkward domesticity?

Perhaps to break the silence he felt compelled to say something, and the words tumbled out of him.

“Mum, that was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me… beyond my wildest dreams… never thought it would happen… you were amazing… you are amazing… I can hardly believe it… I hope you don’t regret it… I know I have no regrets… Mum?”

She smiled and put her tea down and held his hand in both of hers.

“Oh, my love, it was the most amazing thing that happened to me too, and no I don’t regret it, not for a second.”

“I know we’ve always had a connection. But that was another level, something I can’t even begin to describe.”

He glowed, but at the same time felt slightly abashed.

“Some things I might regret,” she added, glancing at where the hidden camera had been, “But no I wanted this too.”

“What do you regret?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“It’s OK, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you later. Nothing to do with you. You, my love, are something else.”

“Oh, OK,” he said, not sure.

“Mum, you have nothing to be ashamed of. We have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not ashamed. I thought I might be once, but not now. I have no regrets about what we did, you and me.”

“Good, me too.”

She squeezed his hands hard.

“In fact, I want to do it again. And again. And again.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she smiled, stroking his hands and his arms.

His heart leapt. He squeezed her back.

She smiled at his instant reaction. “I think you do too,” she said.

“More than anything…”

They kissed, but still a little cautious.

“But Mum, what about Dad?” he asked, breaking away anxiously.

“Don’t worry about him,” she said, “I’ll deal with him. It’s complicated. But I’ll tell you about it later.”

“OK”

“But first, come on, get naked. I want to look at you. At the man you’ve become. The man I made,” she grinned, “I didn’t get a good enough look before. It was all a bit… eager.”

Still unsure, he stood up and hesitated.

“You’ve always been the shy one,” she gently laughed, “Though God knows why…”

She hooked her thumbs in the waist of his boxers and began to pull them down, pausing to relish the moment when the thick base of his cock appeared.

“… when you’ve got this thing hiding in your pants…”

She pulled them down slowly, revealing more and more of his length.

“There he is,” she said.

His cock lurched a little when it finally cleared his boxers and hung there between his legs, slowly thickening.

She pulled his boxers off and he stepped out of them.

“I had no idea you know,” she said, staring at him.

“No idea about what?”

“That you’re so big.”

“Oh”.

Now she stood up and shrugged off her robe. He reached for her breasts, but she sat down.

“Let me look at you,” she said.

His cock was stretching out towards her.

“Has your father ever seen you naked?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“He never said. I wonder why.”

She reached out both hands to stroke him, two fisted. She didn’t want to think about Gavin right now.

“Paul, you’ve got everything going for you. You’re good-looking, you’re intelligent, hard-working, good, kind, caring. You have a secure home. Loving parents,” she snorted at that, “And…”

She leant forward and kissed the tip.

“And, you even have this… this great big dick.”

He cleared his throat, in embarrassment.

“For a long time, I hated it.”

“Hated it?”

“Yes, hated it.”

He hesitated. Sat down on the bed.

“Boys at school who saw me… they teased me… called me names. It was relentless at times.”

“Oh Paul.”

“Girls got to hear… wouldn’t go near me. Those that did were just curious, to see if the stories were true. They wouldn’t dare do anything.”

“I thought I’d been cursed.”

“It’s only fairly recently that I started to think it maybe wasn’t so bad after all.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“At college, I was seeing a girl.”

He hesitated again, wondering whether to tell her about the “Oh my God” reaction, her wariness, their first failed attempt, his general clumsy ineptitude, but then some days later, finally, their breakthrough. In time leading to her incredible enthusiasm, infatuation really. Her lavish praise. How it caused him to think differently about himself.

Instead, he went for the shorter version.

“It was difficult at first, but later we did it a lot.”

But Rachel took it in, guessed a little about his unspoken thoughts. She’d wondered beforehand if she’d be his first, but it was soon obvious that no virgin could be quite that accomplished.

“You sound like she’s not around anymore?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“She was third year. She left at the end of term.”

“Oh, an older woman?” she joked.

He cleared his throat.

“Well, yeah, a mature student actually. Rebecca. In her late thirties. Married, with a kid.”

“Oh”

“We thought, well she thought, it couldn’t carry on any longer. Not without destroying her marriage.”

“So, you won’t see her again?”

“No”.

“It’s OK you know, you should see… women.”

“OK”.

“Somehow I thought I might need to teach you, make you feel good about yourself,” she laughed, “I think you might have taught me something.”

He smiled. “That’s pretty much what she said. After a while”

“Paul, your older women! Giving them a damn good seeing to.”

“Mum, there’s only been one! and you now, I guess.”

“You certainly gave me a good seeing to,” she whispered.

He’d lost his erection as they talked, but her words inflamed him, and he started to stiffen.

“Paul, do you prefer older women?” she asked, rather coquettishly.

“Well, I prefer you, for sure,” he said.

“Rachel, Rebecca, older women beginning with R,” she teased.

“Mum!”

“Does she look like me?” she continued to tease and shook her generous breasts.

“You’re prettier than her.”

“Oh Paul, I’m sure you’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true. You’re prettier. And you’re sexier.”

He eyed her tits.

“And you’re stacked…”

“Paul!” objecting but loving it.

“She was pretty small up there. But that’s OK. You, you’re something else. And you’re gorgeous.”

She shook her head, embarrassed, smiling at his ardent sincerity.

“What did she think when she first saw this?” she asked, rubbing his cock, which was now rearing up his stomach.

“She was pretty shocked.”

“I’ll bet!” she laughed, “An OMG moment, I’m sure.”

“Honestly, Mum. It was really difficult at first,” he said, opening up, “I was so nervous. I didn’t know what I was doing. I came within seconds. Then we tried again, and I hurt her, you know, going in.

He sighed, “It was my worst fears confirmed. But she was so patient. And loving. And eager. So, we tried again another time. Eventually we got the hang of it. Rather a lot…”

He gave a rueful laugh.

Rachel kissed him, proud of her son.

“I like hearing about your experiences,” she said, “I was worried for you. Thought you had some problems getting intimate with women. But I didn’t know what. Thought I needed to help you, somehow.”

“Oh, you helped.”

She knelt in front of him and held his cock with both hands.

“Mum, did I hurt you?”

“Well to be honest you did a bit at first. But it was OK as soon as I relaxed enough. More than OK.”

“You didn’t show it.”

“I didn’t want you to be put off. It was nothing you were doing. You couldn’t have been gentler,” she reassured him.

“It’s just that you’re so big. It’s the thickness really.”

“Rebecca made a bit of a fuss about it at first,” he said with a sigh. “It was quite confusing. You know, all my experiences up until then were the opposite of what you read in porn.”

“At first she was shocked, impressed I guess, turned on about my, you know…”

“Proportions?”

“Yes. She actually described herself as a bit of a size-queen. But then when it came down to it, she was like stop, stop – you’re hurting me.”

“Oh darling,”

“It was probably my fault. A bit too eager.”

“You were perfect with me,” she whispered.

“I’ve learned something since then. I really didn’t want to hurt you.”

They kissed for a while.

She slid her hands down to the base of his cock where it was widest, her fingers far apart, and opened her mouth wide.

She grinned at his wide staring eyes and made a show of opening her mouth even wider, before bending and gently fitting his head inside.

“Oh, mum…” he groaned.

She sucked gently, on just the head. It was tight fit.

She gripped his shaft with both hands and stroked him up and down.

He groaned more, as she sucked and pulled.

After a while her mouth popped off him with a slurp.

“Paul, you’re so stiff… and hard…”

“You make me feel this way.”

She resumed her sucking, and her two-handed fisting, occasionally running her hands across his tightened balls.

But her jaw was aching, and mercifully he gripped her arm.

“Mum, I’m going to come.”

She pulled back a little, and opened her mouth wide, rubbing him more vigorously. He groaned deeply and thrust forwards a little, careful not to go too far. With a long exhalation, he came into her mouth.

She took the first burst, then leaned back holding him tight to her chest as his cock streamed lines across her.

He slumped back onto the bed, his cock twanging out of her grip, and it slapped down onto his stomach, oozing out a last puddle.

She looked down at the mess on her tits and swallowed deeply.

“God Paul, seems you’ve still got plenty in you.”

He lay still, his cock long and hard.

She dabbed at the blobs with her finger.

“So much of it. Must be billions of little Pauls in here.”

He pulled himself up and looked, with a snigger, at his copious emissions spread across her chest.

“Sorry Mum, you really know how to get me going…”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just in awe at what you can produce, after the third time this evening.”

She cleaned herself up, yet again, and Paul did the same.

Turning off the light, they climbed into bed together and held each other. She was small against him.

“Sleep with me tonight,” she whispered.

It was late when Rachel woke up and she lay back in the soft bed, and enjoyed a moment of peaceful slumber, listening to the sound of her son in the shower.

They made love twice more during the night. With their naked bodies so close together they’d both been insatiable. Now she was feeling a little sore but deeply satisfied.

And not a twinge of guilt, she told herself. Then stopped that train of thought.

“Fuck him,” she muttered to herself, “He asked for it.”

She was not going to think about Gavin right now.

The next thing she knew she was being woken by Paul bringing her a cup of tea and some toast. He was dressed in compression shorts and a tight tee shirt.

“I’m going for a run,” he said, in answer to her lingering look.

“You look good,” she said, surprising herself at the sudden wave of desire.

But she ate her toast, realising how hungry she was. Paul sat back on the bed, in his father’s place.

“Mum, about last night…”

“I hope you’re not feeling guilty,” she said, “Because I’m not.”

“I don’t know how I feel really,” he said. She looked at him for signs of regret.

“Your father wanted this to happen,” she said, cautiously.

“He what?”

“We talked about it together. He encouraged me.”

He looked at her incredulously. What?

“I won’t say it was all his idea. I’ve been noticing you for quite a while,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “And maybe he picked up on it… or picked up on you noticing me.”

He smiled at that. True.

“Well, you’re not very subtle.”

“But what do you mean – he encouraged you?”

“He thought you lacked confidence, with girls. Imagined you were getting a bit of a complex maybe. Thought you needed some encouragement, some experience maybe with someone safe.”

“Oh,” said Paul.

“I think he was remembering his own feelings when he was you age… you know, the awkwardness, the confusion. We both thought you were very shy around women.”

“Well, yes,” Paul said.

“But I’m starting to re-appraise that opinion,” she said with a grin. “Maybe I’ve got Rebecca to thank for that?”

He shrugged.

“Anyway, I guess he thought I could bring you out of your shell.”

“But I can’t believe he would think it, you know…”

“Appropriate?”

“Yeah, I mean, you are…”

“Your mother? Yes.”

“Well really!” he laughed. “Mother and son! That’s pretty out there.”

She considered what to say. He was certainly right about that.

“Well, he had a similar experience himself,” she said, “With his mum.”

“With Granny?” Paul exploded, “What?”

“Well, she wasn’t a granny at the time.”

“Oh my God…”

She let him take it all in.

“Sorry Mum, I’m just a bit mind blown. You know, all this, you and me. Last night. And now you’re telling me Dad knew, that he encouraged you, and that he did it too, years ago, with his mother…”

“I’m afraid it gets worst,” she said.

“What?”

“I discovered last night that he put a camera in here.”

“What?” he exploded, again.

“I think he was watching us.”

“Oh my God…”

She got up out of bed and went to the shelf, pulling out the hidden camera and battery, now inactivated.

He shook his head, incredulously.

“I’m pretty furious about it,” she said.

“You didn’t know?”

“No Paul!” she said, “Of course not. But I suspected something. There was something about his attitude. Like he got a kick out of it.”

“Do you think he was watching us?”

“I think so.”

“Christ…”

“Paul, I’m sorry. I knew nothing about this. There was no arrangement, no agreement, about this,” she said gesturing towards the camera.

“Why? Why did he put it there?”

“Paul, I don’t really know. But I guess he really wanted to see us having sex together.”

“God,” he shook his head, mortified.

“Like his own private porn show,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He shook his head.

“Paul I’m sorry,” she said.

“Yeah,”

“But I’m not sorry about what we did.”

She kissed him in reassurance. Held his hand.

“No, me too,” he said, “It’s just…”

“I know, believe me, I’m going to talk to him about it. I consider this a complete violation of trust.”

“I agree.”

“I’m mortified. That he saw me. Us. Together, so privately.”

She nodded vigorously and squeezed his hand again.

She kissed him tenderly.

“Mum,” he said. He seemed better.

“Yes, my love?”

“Go and clean your teeth,” he said, sniffing the air exaggeratedly.

“Oh, you!” she laughed, and scurried from the room, her breasts wobbling dramatically.

Paul was about to head out for his run when Rachel came down. She’d showered and dressed, but he gawped at what she was wearing.

“What?” she asked, knowingly.

She was wearing skin-tight compression shorts, like he was, and a very minimalist sports bra. Her midriff was bare.

“You look so hot,” he said.

“I’ve got a Pilates class in a few minutes, online,” she said.

“You look stunning,” he said, “Are there any men in your class?”

“No,” she laughed, “All girls. Want to join us?”

“I’m not sure I could concentrate, and besides…” he said, nodding down to his groin.

His appreciation of her looks was plain to see, as a large bulge was rapidly straining at his shorts.

“Oh my,” she admired, “Not sure I’d be able to concentrate either. And as for those other middle-aged women; you’d definitely be a disruptive influence.”

He grinned, trying to re-adjust himself. It was starting to look obscene.

“Maybe you’d like it – they’re your kind of women, you know, older women,” she teased.

He shook his head. “Only one woman for me, mum.”

“Go on, calm yourself down and go out for your run,” she said, “Stop distracting me.”

Paul went away and forced himself to subside. As he left, he could hear her online class beginning.

“Wow, you look hot!” one of the women was saying.

Rachel grinned, thinking that she better not say that her son had just paid her the same compliment.

When Paul returned almost an hour later, he saw Rachel on her gym mat on her back, her legs in the air in a reverse curl.

“Reach up, and over” the pretty instructor was saying.

Rachel’s skin was glistening, and Paul could see the fluttering of her abs.

He got a drink of water and watched her.

“Those of you who can do it, rollover,” the teacher said.

Rachel tightened her abs and raised up onto her shoulders and over, her feet touching down behind her head, bottom in the air.

Paul stared, in awe.

Her wide hips flared beautifully in her tight shorts and her bottom looked tight and alluring.

His bulge returned with a vengeance.

She righted herself and noticed him there, her eyes widening at his obvious arousal.

“OK, let’s start winding down now with a cat stretch.”

Rachel was on her hands and knees, eyeing him sideways as he adjusted himself. No need to hide it now.

She slowly arched her back, working up her spine, before tucking her chin to her chest, staring into her cleavage.

He was fixated with the wide flare of her bottom.

“And the opposite now – the cow stretch.”

Her spine dipped and she stretched her neck out, her back hollowing.

I could watch this all day, thought Paul.

His cock strained against his shorts, pushing across his hip. He looked at himself, at the obscene protuberance.

Her hungry eyes were fixed on him.

“And now roll between the cow and cat stretch.”

On the screen, the hot instructor was rolling her body from cow to cat, and Rachel did the same, her long neck stretching out and then tucking in, her shapely bottom making wide circles in the air as she stretched her spine.

Her eyes narrowed as she did it, watching him, sideways. She stared wantonly at the huge bulge in his shorts. Deliberately exaggerating her movements, she pouted her lips and tossed her hair a little like she was a cam girl, well aware of the effect it was having on him.

Paul had to force himself to keep quiet. He assumed her mic was live. She was making it look more like a sex show than a Pilates lesson.

He stared, she stared. And the seconds ticked by slowly to the end of the lesson.

After the lesson, having said their goodbyes, she packed up her mat, took a gulp of water, eying him.

“Had a good stretch?” he asked, eyebrows arched.

“Oh yes,” she said, her voice low, arching her back and thrusting out her chest as she pecked him on the nose.

She grinned. “But I could probably manage another stretch.”

She dropped her eyes to the frightful bulge.

“Think you can help me with that?”

“Oh, I think so.”

“You seem to be enjoying a bit of a stretch yourself after your long run. What could have caused this? See anything you like out there, did you? Or in here maybe?”

She was slowly kneeling in front of him now. “Maybe it was Rhea, our teacher, who got you going so much? She’s a real hottie, isn’t she?”

He was staring down at her heaving cleavage, her large eyes burning up at him. Was this wanton cougar really his mother?

“I mean she’s about my age you know. And her name begins with R,” she teased.

She stroked his bulge.

“Us girls all went for a drink the other day, and it turns out a few of us have sons. Including Rhea. Your age actually.”

She allowed the suggestion to percolate.

“I mean, clearly, I’m speculating here, but I did wonder. She talked so glowingly about him. And with such a hot mum like her… who knows what kind of things go on behind closed doors.”

Paul was almost shaking with desire, and he thought he was about to burst.

“She showed us photos of him on her phone. He’s a very handsome boy. Then suddenly stopped scrolling. I wonder why.”

She began to slowly peel his tight shorts down.

“I wonder if he’s got anything like this between his legs,” she whispered, almost in some sort of private fantasy as his cock appeared.

“I mean imagine what they could be doing together. She’s so flexible. I just know she could stretch for a big one. He was probably there just now at the class, like you. Watching her.”

His cock popped out, rigid and thick, and slapped against her face.

“Oh baby,” she groaned, “Do you think they might be doing something like this together? Rhea and her son?”

Paul was getting overwhelmed with the sensory onslaught. Transported by her scandalous fantasy and stoked almost to the point of ejaculation as she gripped and stroked him.

He stepped out of his shorts and pulled his tee shirt off.

She pulled him over to the couch by his dick, and then pushed him down onto his back. He sat there, completely rigid with desire.

She turned her back to him, bent over and shook her booty.

“You like this, don’t you, my big round bum?” she said seductively.

“Oh Mum…”

He was transfixed by her performance. Mother turned sex goddess.

Still bending a little she peeled her own shorts down, followed by her skimpy thong and slowly shook her bottom again.

He shuffled forwards on the couch and ran his hands over her firm behind.

She turned and stood before him, legs apart, hands on hips, chest thrust out, like Wonder Woman in her sports bra.

“You are so gorgeous, so sexy, so hot,” he muttered, slightly abashed at how inarticulate he was in comparison. He couldn’t imagine dreaming up the dirty scenario she’d just done.

She straddled his legs and leant down and kissed him, before trailing her kisses down his chest, licking, and sucking at his erect nipples.

She rubbed herself along his length, her juices liberally coating him.

Raising up above him she arched her back again and went to pull off her sports bra, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he said, “You’re practically bursting out of it. You look so sexy.”

She looked down at her heaving cleavage and laughed, while he cupped her boobs on his hands, and kissed eagerly at the big bumps of her nipples.

She was in a hurry now. There was no need for further foreplay. She stretched up to get above his towering length, and reached down, positioning him at her entrance, as he pushed tentatively inside.

This time though she felt open and relaxed, with none of the tightness he experienced last night.

She groaned deeply. “All the way,” she begged, “Stretch me.”

She lowered herself as he slowly pushed his length into her, and they each gave long groans in unison.

Soon he was fully embedded, and they kissed long and hard, and started to buck up and down on top of him.

Open mouthed, lips to lips, forehead to forehead, she thrust her hips up and down. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, swiftly building up her momentum.

Very quickly she was fucking him, hands on his chest, hips jerking rapidly, and her cries increased into screams and wordless noises.

It was not the gentle love making of the night before. She was wanton, aggressive, and dominant. She wanted to fuck.

He tried to keep up, his hips following hers as he thrust upwards trying to get his whole length inside.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” she was screaming in time with their thrusts. And then she was laughing in glee, bouncing wildly on top of him, amazed that his length meant she could move so wantonly without him slipping out.

She reached down with one hand, the other braced on his chest, and rubbed her clit furiously.

“Oh God, God,” she screamed, rubbing herself hard. His hand joined hers.

Within moments she stopped suddenly, crying “Too much, too much,” her body rigid, she pushed herself back off him. His cock, red hot and throbbing, thudded down onto his stomach, as she pulled at her clit with a fury.

He could hear her wetness sloshing, and she screamed. To his shock and amazement, a stream of clear juices squirted out of her onto his stomach and cock.

She flopped down on top of him, face buried on his shoulder, her chest heaving, deep breaths, and long sighs reverberating into his chest.

He stroked her hair and pulled her to him tight.

They lay there as she slowly came back to her senses. She looked up, through wild hair and a red flushed face and chest and laughed out loud.

“Oh my God, I’ve never done that before!”

“That was amazing,” he said, overwhelmed.

“I think I lost control back then. Sorry if I got you a bit wet.”

“I loved it,” he said, “Fucking hell Mum, I’ve read about squirting but have never seen anything like it.”

She peeled herself off him and looked at the mess.

“But I’ve not finished with you yet, young man.”

She flopped down, open legged, and pulled him on top of her.

“Your turn now – fuck me.”

He knelt between her legs and pushed himself back inside with one long insertion.

“Give me a damn good seeing too,” she said.

So, he did, inspired by her wild display.

They fucked with abandon. He revelled in the opportunity to thrust long and hard into her, forgetting his caution and fear of hurting her.

He seemed endless as he gave her everything he had, her urging him on – “Deeper, deeper” she cried, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She quickly climbed back to another shattering orgasm, pushing him back off her as her juices spurted again. Everything was getting drenched.

He flipped her over, so she was bent over the soaked coach, and drilled her from behind, achieving even longer strokes in this position, reaching down to grip her hanging tits.

The next time her shrieks began to peak again, he followed her lead and rubbed his fingers hard over her clit.

She screamed as she came again, abandoning herself in the waves of sexual ecstasy.

“Too much… too much…” she gasped helplessly.

He had no idea how he’d lasted as long as he had, and maybe he was too mesmerised by her extraordinary performance to notice his impending crisis, but finally, it was too much and he gave one last massive push into her and came hugely, his multiple ejaculations seeming to rush straight from his toes, as he emptied himself into her.

For a long time, they were stuck, a heaving, sweaty, sticky mess. Face buried in the back of her neck.

But slowly they recovered. He pulled out of her and rolled her onto her back. He brushed her damp hair from her face and kissed her tenderly.

“Fuck that was incredible Mum. What got into you?”

She smirked, amazed, and rather abashed now at her behaviour.

“I think you got into me, my son. You really got into me.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“God, I’m sorry to mention him, but I’m so jealous of Dad when you’re so extraordinary in bed.”

She eyed him and said “Believe me son, I have never been like that with your father. You bring something out of me I didn’t know I had.

He shook his head again.

“I’m just feeling like the luckiest guy in the world just to be here with you.”

“I think we make a good team, don’t you?” she grinned.

“You did switch your video call off, didn’t you?” he asked, eyebrows raised, with a dirty snigger.

“Oh God!” she laughed uproariously.

“Yes, I think so!”

“It would certainly have got Rhea going, hey?”

She gave a dirty laugh.

“Mum, that was just a story, right? There’s nothing going on is there?”

“Hey. I’m sworn to secrecy…”

He looked at her open mouthed.

“Really?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t know. I’m just kidding you, honestly.”

He looked at her, unsure.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked later, as they sat eating lunch together. They’d showered, separately – she’d insisted on it – and together cleaned the wrecked couch hoping the sex smells would go away.

Gavin was due home later that evening. They were going to have to face the music together.

“You mean when he comes back?” he asked.

“Yes”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Well at least we don’t have to sneak around, do we?” she said cautiously.

“You mean because he knows about us?” he asked.

“It was his idea,” she said but added, “Sort of…”

“He’s only got himself to blame then, hasn’t he?” he said cautiously. He was unsure again about their status.

He cleared his throat after more nervous silence, wondering how to proceed.

“Mum, you and me… are we going to continue?”

“Making love?”

He nodded; grateful she said the words. Even now, after all they’d done together, he found it hard to say the words out loud.

“I was worried it might be a one-off.”

“You want us to carry on? I don’t want to assume,” she asked.

“More than anything,” he said eagerly, but then as doubt crept in, “If you do too, that is.”

“Oh Paul,” she said, leaning over the table to kiss him.

“I want it too, more than anything. I don’t think I can keep away from you now.”

“But what about him?” he asked.

She grunted dismissively.

“Well, I suppose I can’t be spraying all over the couch while he’s sitting there watching TV, can I?” she grimaced, with a sneer.

“Err, no,” he rolled his eyes at the image.

“More’s the pity.”

***

Gavin sloped in later that day, his eyes barely meeting Rachel’s. Paul quickly made himself scarce upstairs.

She made him a cup of tea, as he bumbled about pulling things out of his bag, pretending to be busy. She thought she’d let him stew for a while.

“Nice trip?” she asked sarcastically, sliding the cup across to him.

“It was OK,” he mumbled, eyes down.

She did some washing up while he sat at the table staring at his cup. The silence hung heavy in the room.

“Watch anything nice?” she asked suddenly, almost making him jump.

“Sorry?” he asked hesitantly.

“On the TV, or on your computer?”

“Oh, that…”

“Yes, that Gavin. That.”

She sat down opposite him at the table, chin in her hands.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he began to say.

“I should fucking think so,” she interrupted loudly, slamming her hands down on the table.

He jumped.

“I am so disappointed in you,” she said.

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why-did-you-hide-a-camera-to-film-us-having-sex-together?” she asked, spelling it out like he was a stupid little boy.

“I wanted to watch,” he answered simply, “I knew you’d never allow it.”

“Fucking right.”

She stared at him, furious.

“Get your kicks, did you?”

He avoided her gaze, said nothing.

“Get off did you, watching us, fucking together?” she spat out.

He nodded slightly, eyes down.

“Your own tailor-made porno. Your little dicky in your hand,” she sneered.

He grimaced. She knew she was being unfair now. But she wanted to rub his nose in it.

“Don’t you ever try anything like that again.”

He looked up at her. He felt humiliated but also relieved. It didn’t seem like she was going to kick him out.

“I suppose you were going to try and eke it out of me, were you?”

“What?”

“The salacious details, to get me to tell my story, thrust by thrust, while you sat there with a hard-on, hearing a blow-by-blow encounter of how your hot wife was thoroughly fucked by a bigger, better man.”

She laughed mockingly.

“By a bigger, better man, who just happened to be our son.”

He shook his head, trying to disappear into the table.

“You’d ask your little questions; pretend you didn’t know.”

She pitched her voice in a mocking tone.

“How was it? Was he good in bed? Ooh, how big is he? How many times did he make you come? Did you make a man of him?”

He stared at his tea, defeated.

“Well, let me tell you, your son has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

He winced.

“Look I’m sorry to be so brutal, but I just want to get it over to you how incredibly disappointed in you I am.”

“Look we talked about it. I thought you were doing this for him, to help him in some way, and for me too I suppose. For both of us.”

“So kind, so caring, so generous. Offering your wife, so selflessly. So concerned about his welfare.”

“When really it was just some sordid fantasy of yours.”

“No, it wasn’t just a fantasy. It was all those things you mentioned,” he protested, still avoiding her eye. “I guess, yes, it was some sort of fantasy too. I wanted to see you, and him, together.”

“Shoving his big dick into me?” she said cruelly.

He looked up at her, surprised at her vehemence.

“Yes, your son has a really big dick. Absolutely huge, actually. And he really knows what he’s doing with it too.”

He flinched at her outburst.

“Yes, and it turns out he really didn’t need any coaching at all.”

“A little shy about what he’s blessed with perhaps, got teased a lot in school about it, had a few unfortunate experiences with girls.”

“But actually, he really knows what to do with a woman,” she continued, “Just in case you’re still worried about it. Just in case you want to check he knows what he’s doing with his generous endowment. Let me tell you, he really knows how to please a woman.”

“He REALLY pleased this woman, over and over and over again.”

“OK, OK I get it. I’m sorry Rachel,” he repeated, “I let you down badly. I violated your trust. And his. I’ll apologise to him too.”

“You better.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

She got up and walked across the room. He watched her as she moved around. She looked head strong, powerful, and beautiful. He felt like a little worm.

“I’m sorry to be so cruel to you Gavin, but I just want you to understand, and realise that things have changed around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my husband. I love you.”

He stared at her, questioning.

“Yes, I love you, despite everything.”

“I love you too,” he said.

“But I love him too. I think I’m in love with him. And I don’t mean as our son, which is a given.”

He took a long sip of his drink.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend that this was all your fault,” she continued.

“That I always had entirely innocent thoughts about him. I think many women entertain certain fantasies about their sons. I’ll admit that I fantasised about him. But I never would have acted without your encouragement.”

“Rachel, I can only repeat how sorry I am,” he said. “I did a stupid thing, and I let my fetish get the better of me. But I honestly believed I was opening the door to something wonderful for you and for him.”

“Oh, it was wonderful alright.”

“Oh?” he said, curious to draw something out of her, despite the perilous situation.

“It was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had. I’ve never connected with anyone like I do with him before, including you.”

“Well, that’s OK,” he said, “You’ve always had a special relationship.”

“There, you’ve wheedled that little detail out of me, haven’t you. Considering his somewhat limited experience so far, Paul is clearly destined to make some woman, or women, very happy indeed with his talents.”

She sat down opposite him, and he tentatively reached out to take her hands in his.

“Look Gavin,” she sighed, softening. “You let me down. But I love you. And I forgive you. But you opened a door, which cannot be closed now. And you’re going to have to live with the consequences.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me and him. We can’t just pretend none of this ever happened.”

“You mean that you’ll continue…”

“Yes, Paul and I will continue to get together, whenever we want to, and you’ll just have to put up with it.”

“OK,” he said hesitantly, “And where does this leave me?”

“Well, you’re my husband, and you’ll continue to be my husband, in every respect, if you want to?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But sometimes I’ll be sleeping in his bed.”

“Right…” he said.

“Can you cope with that?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

“Look, I’m sorry about some of the things I said. I didn’t mean to humiliate you. Make you into some sort of cuckold.”

“I think you did that quite successfully, thanks,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure about this arrangement.

“Well maybe I did. I was angry. But I’m OK now. Got it off my chest.”

“OK.”

“Now go and apologise to Paul about it. He’s upstairs.”

Probably listening to every word, she thought, as Gavin steeled himself for another round of self-abasement.

Later that evening, after a strained meal between the three of them, with everyone avoiding the obvious, she sidled into Paul’s room while Gavin was downstairs.

“You OK?” he asked.

“I’m OK,” she said, “Did he apologise to you?”

“Yes,” he said, “It was pretty weird. Well, very weird. But we talked it all out. It was OK in the end.”

“What did he say?”

Paul described how Gavin had muttered his way through an apology, and falteringly recounted how it had all come about, and why he thought he was trying to help him in some way. He’d even admitted, in very vague terms, his own incestuous past with his mother.

“I believe him,” Paul said, “I think he was being genuine. But he also had a bit of a thing about it. You know. An obsession. I think he became fixated about the idea of seeing us, you know, together.”

She nodded.

“And I guess this obsession, with seeing us have sex, overcame his other motives,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think he was thinking straight.”

“Did you hear us before?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Did you hear everything?”

“I think so – you were really going for him pretty loud mum!”

“Did you hear what I told him about you and me?”

“You mean?” raising an eyebrow, glancing down.

“No,” she laughed, slapping his arm, “Not the stuff about your massive dick. About the fact that you and I will continue to make love together, from time to time.”

“From time to time?” he asked in mock disappointment. He stepped up to her and stroked her hair. “Only time to time?”

“Paul!” she laughed, impressed at his new-found confidence, despite the situation they were in.

“How about now?”

“No, Paul,” she laughed again, as he hugged her to his body, and they kissed.

“No Paul, not now,” she said, as she pushed him away, “That would be really rubbing his nose in it.”

That night, Rachel and Gavin were getting ready for bed when he smiled at her awkwardly and said, “You can go to him.”

She stared at him surprised.

“I know you want to,” he said, “You’ve been on edge all evening. And not for the obvious reasons. I’ve seen the looks you’ve been giving each other.”

It was true. She thought that she was being subtle. But the smouldering stares she’d been getting from Paul had been plain to see, even by her husband.

“Gavin,” she said, “I don’t want this to be any more awkward than it is already.”

“No really, it’s OK. It’s been a weird day all round. Can’t get any weirder,” he said giving a forced laugh.

“But…” she began, and he cut her off. “Rachel, I’m not saying you do this every night, or even most nights, but tonight’s OK, really.”

“You’re doing your penance, are you?” she asked, trying to conceal her excitement levels.

“Maybe I am, I don’t know. But it’s OK, you won’t upset me.”

“OK,” she said, pulling out a pair of pyjamas from a drawer.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not wearing those though, are you?”

“Well, what have you got in mind?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, something a little bit skimpier maybe?”

She stared at him again. He really was raising the stakes. She moistened in anticipation.

“You’ve got a few bits and pieces in there which used to raise my blood pressure,” he said levelly, “Give him a treat.”

She shook her head and delved deep into her drawer, pulling out a couple of flimsy garments, one white and one black.

“Go for black,” he advised, “White’s a bit virginal. I think we’re past that now, aren’t we?”

Rachel’s hand was shaking a little, mostly in excitement, but partly in disbelief. Was he toying with her?

“You’re serious about this are you?”

He nodded.

“Because we’re just going to be down the hall you know. You’re probably going to hear stuff.”

“Look we talked about this before. And I’m OK with it.”

She shrugged her shoulders and took her little black thing into the bathroom with her and closed the door. She felt too self-conscious to dress herself up for her lover, his son, in front of him.

In the bathroom she took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror incredulously. Her nipples were like spikes. It was like the twilight zone.

She shimmied into her sheer black lace chemise, relieved that she could still get into it, just about. It was tight around the bust, but maybe that was a good thing.

She looked at herself with a shudder. Her image in the mirror said one thing. Sex.

She imagined the reaction she would get from Paul.

She applied a bit of subtle make up and a cautious waft of perfume, in all the strategic places. Primped her hair. Dab of lipstick.

She stared again wantonly, pursing her full lips. She was a sexy cougar.

But she couldn’t bear to see her husband’s face, looking like that, so she wrapped her thick bathrobe around her, to march back through the bedroom.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cautioned, “Let me see you?”

She swivelled to face him, sighed, and pulled open the robe for a moment.

“Wow!” he said.

She gave a half smile and tightened her robe again.

“See you in the morning then, I guess,” she said, still a little nonplussed. What does a wife say to her husband as she goes off to fuck their son?

She paused at Paul’s door and gave a little knock.

“Yes?” he said.

“It’s me,” she said pushing the door open.

He was sat in bed, a soft light by his bedside. He seemed to be reading.

“Hello?” he said enquiringly.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “Can I come in?”

“Yes of course,” he said, putting his book down. She could see the cover: Jane Eyre.

She stepped in, closing the door behind her, wishing it had a lock.

She sat down on the bed, and he drew his legs up to make room for her. He was topless, his firm chest looking good in the warm light. She wondered what he was wearing beneath the sheets.

“Is he just down there?” Paul asked nodding towards her bedroom, “I thought you said we should back off for a bit?”

“I did, but he told me to come in here, to come to you…”

“No!”

She nodded, smiling. “Said the day couldn’t get any weirder, so…”

He shook his head in disbelief. No really? But he shrugged and grinned.

“I think it probably could…”

“Oh?”

“… get a bit weirder, if you want it too.”

She toyed at the belt of her robe. Looked at him from under her eyelashes.

He nodded, excitement running through him. He felt himself hardening.

She pulled the knot open, but kept the robe closed.

“Want to see?” she asked quietly.

“Oh yes,” he said, wide-eyed.

She stood up in front of him and opened the robe for him.

“Wow!” he said. Just like her husband, she noted.

She giggled and cinched the robe off her shoulders with a little shrug, letting it pool on the floor at her feet.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, pulling himself higher in the bed. He was still hidden, but she could see a growing tent.

“Like it?” she said, looking down at herself. The black chemise was sheer enough to show off her pale skin, but the lacy decorations tight across her breasts were distended by her pointy nipples.

“You look beautiful,” he said sincerely, “Sexy. Stunning.”

They stared at each other, a couple of metres apart, drinking each other in. She was revelling in the anticipation of the moment and wanted to prolong it.

She did a little circle for him, letting him admire her from all angles, her shapely bottom in its sheer little panties. The thought crossed her mind; how could she be so withdrawn with her husband, but so ready to flaunt herself for her son?

Her breasts swelled, ever tightening the sheer fabric. He stared at the dents of her nipples.

“Can I take a photo?” he said, “For my very private collection. To keep me going on lonely nights.”

She nodded, trusting him.

He reached for his phone and took photo bursts as she moved this way and that, leaning down to show her cleavage, cupping her breasts together. Acting like a whore, she thought.

“You are so sexy,” he said, “Somehow even sexier partially clothed.”

She sniggered and pulled the sheet down a few inches from the bottom of the bed.

“Let me see you.”

She pulled a little more, slowing it down to again prolong the moment.

As she hoped, he was naked, and she shivered as she saw his big thick cock slowly revealed, standing upright against his stomach.

She pulled the sheet off the bed, and took in the sight of her gorgeous son, legs splayed, erect cock, broad chest, handsome face.

“My turn now,” she whispered gesturing for his phone, “For my private collection. You can give them to me later.”

She tapped away taking shots. He didn’t pose for her, just sat there massively erect, a wry smile on his face.

She wondered if he could see her arousal. She was so wet for him.

But still she wanted to postpone the inevitable moment. Looking at the photos on the screen, she wanted a sense of scale, a measure of her man.

She looked around the room.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

She stepped into his bathroom and found something that would do.

“I want something to compare you with,” she said, “To look at, and hold when you’re away.” She had a cannister of his shaving foam in her hand.

He smiled, realising where this was going.

“I’ve got a vibrator, but you’re quite a bit bigger than it.”

She held the shaving foam up and stretched her hand around it. About an inch was showing between her thumb and first finger.

“Hmmm,” she breathed. “I think it’s the girth that does it for me.”

He groaned.

“Splitting me apart.”

She stepped to him and positioned the canister against his cock. Gently, she stretched her hand around him. Her fingers were almost as far apart.

“Fuck, Paul,” she said in awe.

Next, she considered the length. At length. He was even longer than the can.

“Wow,” she said. He grinned proudly. He was not bashful anymore.

Days later, mooching about in his room, gazing wistfully at his bed, she came across the shaving foam can again, and rushed off to get her measuring tape. The can was seven inches round and eight inches long. With a shudder she remembered that Paul was bigger.

Gavin sat in bed, listening intently.

He could hear the faint sounds of their playful whispers, and Rachel’s girlish giggles. She’s never like that with me, he thought ruefully. Desperate to hear more, he considered listening at the door, but knew that if he was caught it would be curtains.

Straining his ears, he could make out what he thought were kissing noises and then some low groans from Rachel.

He was rigid with excitement and could not resist pulling down his pyjama bottoms and wanking in time to the groans and gasps of his wife and his son.

Pretty soon the moaning became accompanied by the rhythmic creaking of Paul’s bed, and he heard his son become more vocal too with grunts and occasional bangs, and then a long female shriek and silence.

He glanced at his bedside clock. They’d been at it for ten minutes or so. He started to clean up the ejaculate, now pooled and cooling on this stomach, when the bed creaking sound began again.

With a shudder he realised that the temporary hiatus was simply an intermission, a chance maybe for Rachel to recover from her orgasm before her son began ploughing her all over again.

He tried to picture them. There was not a lot of room in Paul’s single bed. Was he on top of her? Or was she riding him?

She was on top, he decided. Rather sums Rachel up, he thought.

He pictured her thrusting hips rising and falling, tried to imagine his thick girth forcing her tight lips apart as she thudded down onto his groin. His hands cupping her spectacular breasts, his mouth on her long nipples. Her hands bracing herself on his chest from his long insertions.

He heard their mumbled entreaties to each other. Her shouts as she climbed the hill again. The increasing frequency of the tortured bed going on and on.

There was another sharp bang and the sound of something falling onto the floor, then an unearthly wailing outburst. The creaking finally stopped and there was a long exhale and then minutes of blissful silence.

So, this is what it’s come to, he thought, looking at their marital bed and the empty space beside him. Their bed hadn’t made those kinds of noises for years, if ever. How would things ever return to normal. What is normal now.

The sound of footsteps and water running somewhere brought him back to the imagined events down the hallway. He could hear their low conversation and wondered what they were saying to each other. Their declarations of intimacy and love.

The bed settled again with the sound of what must have been two squeezing into it, and the continuous sounds of pillow talk. He could almost see their naked bodies pressed together, her hair spread out on his chest, hands stroking each other’s bodies and lips kissing.

He noticed a tear in his eye as he considered their warm intimacy, their union, their bond. And his exclusion.