Coming Home To Mother

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I was nearly there – the taxi I’d taken at the airport was fast approaching Mum’s address, and I tried to resign myself to my ‘holiday’. I’d been living abroad for three years; in that time my father had died, and Mum had sold the house and bought a small flat, making a decent profit in the process.

Mum had written to me regularly, telling me all her news and always asking when I was coming home for a visit, but somehow I’d always found a reason to put it off. I loved her dearly, and she’d been a good wife to my father and mother to me, but she’d always lived a quiet, almost placid, life, and I had visions of spending hours watching her doing her knitting, with the occasional visit to the library for excitement.

The taxi drew up at the address of the new flat, and as I dumped my bags on the ground and paid the driver, Mum opened the street door to welcome me. She was obviously pleased to see me; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled as she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. She showed me the way to the flat, and then it was the usual ‘How are you, dear?’, and ‘ How was the flight?’ routine, as she busied herself making coffee.

She was looking very well, I thought: her hair seemed a lighter shade of brown than I remembered, and her figure was very trim for a woman turned fifty. She was wearing what she would call a ‘sensible’ light blue jumper that matched her eyes, with a grey knee-length skirt and, surprisingly, high-heeled mules; she flushed with pleasure when I told her how nice she looked, and then we settled down to bring each other up to date on the news.

Finally, she cleared away the coffee cups, and gave me another peck on the cheek.

‘You must be tired, dear. Why don’t you take a nap while I pop out and do some shopping? I was waiting for you to come before I went to the shops, to find out what you’d like for dinner tonight.’

My heart sank at the thought of trying to make conversation over dinner; I’d already just about exhausted every topic I could dig up that might interest her, and I didn’t think I could face an evening of desperately chatting about nothing.

‘Mum – how about going out to dinner tonight, to celebrate? To a posh restaurant somewhere as a treat, and then you won’t have to cook and do the dishes afterwards!’

Her eyes lit up. ‘That would be lovely, darling!’ The she paused and looked down at herself. ‘But – I don’t really have anything to wear to a place like that.’

‘We can soon fix that,’ I said. ‘I’m not tired – let’s go out now and I’ll buy you a dress for the occasion!

Mum hesitated for a moment, then nodded eagerly. ‘I’ll just get a cardigan and put on my shoes, and then I’ll be ready!’

We found a likely looking dress shop, and I asked Mum to find something she fancied.

‘No, dear – you choose for me,’ she said. ‘Something you’d like me to wear!’

I mentally gazed heavenwards; it was typical of her not to make up her own mind, and I started to search through the racks. I spotted a little dark blue dress that rather appealed to me; it seemed rather low-cut, and probably too short for Mum’s liking, but I held it out to her anyway.

‘What about this, Mum?’

‘Oh – it’s my size!’ she exclaimed, checking the label. ‘I’ll go and try it on!’

When she returned, I could hardly believe my eyes: the dress was sleeveless, and indeed low-cut, exposing much more than a hint of cleavage, and the hem ended well above her knees. I was sure that Mum wouldn’t go for anything that revealing, but she twirled in front of a mirror, peering at herself over her shoulder.

‘How do I look, darling?’ she cried, and to my amazement she tugged the dress down over her ribs, showing even more of the tops of her breasts.

‘You look – you look wonderful, Mum,’ I managed to get out, and she twirled in front of me once more.

‘I think it’s lovely!’ she said. ‘If you’re sure you like it, dear. But isn’t it rather expensive?’

‘Don’t worry about that Mum. We’ll take it,’ I told the assistant who’d suddenly appeared, sensing a sale.

When we got back to the flat, I decided I did fancy a nap after all, and Mum wanted to go out again to buy some groceries. ‘While you’re at it, get some sexy underwear and some new shoes to go with the dress,’ I suggested, but she laughed.

‘I’ve got plenty of sexy undies, dear! In fact, I think I’ve got a bra and panties exactly the same colour as the dress!’ My eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t notice. ‘I might get some shoes though – if you’re sure I’m not spending too much of your money!

I just kissed her and gave her my wallet, and then she was off.

It was quite late when I woke up – I must have been more tired than I thought, but after I’d showered and shaved I felt better. Mum seemed to spend hours getting ready, and then I heard her call from her room.

‘Darling! Come and do me up, please!’

She looked fabulous: I guessed she’d had her hair done, and her face was beautifully made up. The dress was hanging loose on her shoulders, and she smiled at me excitedly as she shrugged it down.

‘Look, dear! I told Gaziantep Escort Numaraları you my undies would match!’

I gulped. Her bra was indeed the same colour as the dress, but what got my attention was the fact that it had half cups that barely covered her nipples, although the thin lacy material showed them almost as clearly as they were fully exposed. As I looked, they seemed to be stiffening, but then Mum pulled the dress back up and turned her back to let me zip her up.

‘Yes, Mum, very nice,’ I muttered, and then involuntarily I lowered my head and kissed her bare shoulder.

She turned back towards me and held her arms out sideways.

‘Well, darling? How do I look?’

‘You look – gorgeous, Mum!’ I said, and meant it.

The dress left her arms and shoulders completely bare, and the cleavage seemed even more pronounced, thanks perhaps to the bra lifting her breasts upwards. The shoes she’d bought had very high heels that accentuated her shapely legs, and the only jewellery she was wearing was a thin gold necklace and diamond earrings.

Mum blushed, and blew me a kiss. ‘I can’t kiss you properly, dear – it’d smudge my lipstick.’

I’d earlier made a call to a restaurant I’d heard about, and even though it was a Saturday I’d managed to make a reservation. Now I phoned for a taxi, and soon we were being shown to our table. I ordered a gin and tonic for Mum and a scotch and water for myself, and told the waiter we were in no hurry for our meal, then settled back to admire my mother once more.

‘You’re the most beautiful woman in the place, and I’m proud to have you with me, Mum – or can I call you sweetheart?’ I smiled, and her cheeks flushed.

‘Thank you, dearest – and of course you can call me sweetheart, or anything else you like!’

The restaurant had a small dance floor, and a good trio – piano, guitar and string bass – was playing some old Sinatra standards. I asked Mum if she’d like to dance, and as I took her in my arms my eyes were drawn once more to the deep valley between her breasts. She was wearing a hint of perfume that I didn’t recognize, and I inhaled it as she moulded her body against me: to my embarrassment, I found that I was getting aroused, but for a moment I allowed myself to hold her close and let my lips brush her ear. If she noticed, she gave no hint, and we danced without speaking until the set was finished.

Back at the table, I ordered another couple of drinks, and we chose our food, with a good bottle of wine to accompany it. To my surprise, my mother began to chat animatedly, laughing happily and smiling at me with sparkling eyes. She covered my hand with hers, and leaned towards me – her dress fell forward slightly, and once again I stared down at her half-revealed breasts, accentuated by the lacy bra.

‘I’m having a wonderful time, darling – thank you so much!’ she said, squeezing my hand.

The food arrived, and I forced my gaze away from her breasts, smiling at her uncomfortably. But the sight of her bra had reminded me of what she’d said earlier.

‘So what’s all this about sexy underwear, Mum?

She smiled at me coyly. ‘I just like it, that’s all! I like wearing sexy things under more sensible clothes. Either that, or nothing at all. Sometimes it’s all I have on around the house … I just wish someone could see me. And your father liked seeing me wearing it – that, or nothing at all!’

I gulped. ‘Do you get lonely sometimes, Mum – now that Dad’s dead?’ I asked, trying to turn the conversation to less sexually-oriented topics. I failed.

Mum took a long swallow of her drink and lowered her eyes. ‘Sometimes, dear – and I miss the sex.’

I could hardly believe my ears: my mother, talking about sex?

‘You didn’t know it, of course, but your father was very demanding,’ she said, and I imagined she meant that he had a voracious sexual appetite, but then she continued.

‘I loved the things he made me do, and I think that’s what I miss most.’

It was my turn to gulp down some wine, not knowing what to say, but Mum was in full swing, eating as she talked.

‘I like to please men,’ she said, glancing at me almost coyly as I refilled her glass.

‘I like them to – to use me, to use my body. I suppose I’m – passive, or submissive, or something.’

She drank again, and I wondered whether she was getting slightly drunk. I signalled for another bottle of wine.

‘When I was a girl, Dad used to spank me if I was naughty. Even when I was at university. He always came up to my room at bedtime, sit on the bed and take me across his lap, then he’d pull my nightdress up and spank my bare bottom. I loved it, and I loved knowing that he liked doing it to me. He’d get hard, and I’d wriggle against him, knowing it was what he wanted…’ She sighed, and once more sipped her wine.

”Your father used to like us to talk dirty,’ she said suddenly, and she looked at me, rather strangely, I thought.

‘I – I think I’d – like you to talk dirty to me sometime, Mum,’ I blurted, and her eyes glistened. Just then the waiter arrived to clear away the plates, and I told him we’d wait for dessert and coffee. Then I dragged Mum back onto the dance floor, and held her close as we started to move to the music – Rogers and Hart, this time. I was painfully aware of my mother’s body against mine, and I felt myself getting an erection. This time, Mum certainly felt it too: she looked up at me, and squirmed her pelvis against me.

‘Speaking of wriggling,’ I said, and she laughed.

‘Do you mind me pressed against your dick like this, darling?’ she asked innocently.

‘Silly bitch!’ I growled, and dropped my hands to her bottom, holding her against me even tighter, and she smiled.

‘I’ve been wondering if we’d – be like this, ever since you told me you were coming home,’ she said. That photo you sent me, taken when you were swimming somewhere. You were – almost naked, apart from those tiny swimming briefs you were wearing. I often look at it in bed with nothing on, staring at your bulging groin, and wishing that you weren’t wearing those bloody briefs!’

Back at the table, we ordered dessert with coffee to follow, and Mum’s foot brushed against my leg under the table.

‘What sort of things did Dad make you do?’ I asked curiously, and Mum smiled.

‘Anything and everything. And he liked me to expose myself to other men. Sometimes he’d bring a man home, and make me masturbate for him, and he’d watch while the man – fucked me. A couple of times he brought a man and a woman, and they’d both fuck me. Afterwards, your father would fuck me himself, like a madman!’

She shivered. ‘Just talking about it makes me wet between my legs – I’m soaking!’

‘I’m pretty uncomfortable myself, Mum!’

‘What happened to “sweetheart”? Or “bitch”? or “whore”, maybe? I’d like that!’

I swallowed painfully. ‘When – when did you last have sex, sweetheart – whore?’

Mum smiled almost sadly. ‘A month or so ago, I suppose. He was very polite and gentle, asking me if he could kiss me, and if I minded him putting his hand up my skirt. I’d rather he’d raped me or something!’

‘You don’t have a – a regular boyfriend, then?’

She hesitated. ‘Well, there’s a man I see often. He’s Jamaican, and he know’s what I like. He calls me his white bitch, or cow, or slut. Sometimes he slaps me about a bit – not too much. That’s nice. There’s a club we go to, and he takes out his cock at the table and makes me lick it. And he makes me get in the bath, and he pisses all over me…’

I felt I needed some air, and signalled the waiter for the bill. Once outside the restaurant, I suggested that we walk for a bit, and Mum snuggled against me as I put my arm round her.

‘Do you mind me telling you these things, darling? Aren’t you shocked?’

‘Amazed, more like, Mum! I can hardly believe it! You, of all people! But yes, I do like it – it’s exciting!’

We came to a wine bar, and I told her I fancied a nightcap. We went in, and found a table against the wall. I went up to the bar and bought two glasses of wine, then carried them back to the table. We sat side by side, and Mum’s skirt rode more than half way up her thighs as she crossed her legs. I also had a better view of her magnificent breasts, and I unashamedly stared at her.

‘Cheers, my darling,’ she said, smiling at me over the rim of her glass, and I returned the toast.

‘Here’s to you, Mum – the new Mum, that I never imagined existed!’ I said, and she squeezed my hand.

‘This boyfriend of yours – the Jamacian – what’s happening with him?’ I asked, and Mum shrugged.

‘He got into a fight and knifed someone, and he’s in prison. I’ve visited him a couple of times, and he tells me what he’s going to do to me when he gets out. I can hardly wait!’

I stroked her bare arm. ‘Are you still wet, Mum? I asked, and she smiled.

‘I’m soaking, darling!’

I slid my arm round her shoulders. ‘Kiss me, whore!’

I drew her towards me, and our lips touched properly for the first time. We kissed gently at first, and then I probed her teeth with my tongue and her mouth opened under mine. Our tongues danced together as I dropped my hand to her thigh, stroking it, and trying to adjust to the idea of what was happening. The kiss went on and on, and then I pulled back slightly.

‘Put your hand on my cock, Mum,’ I whispered, and then caught my breath as I felt her stroking me through my trousers. We kissed again, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, and then it was Mum’s turn to break away. She was panting slightly, her breasts heaving gently. We stared at each other for a long moment, then I told her to drink up – it was time to go home.

We found a taxi without too much difficulty, and once inside I kissed her again, briefly fondling her breast before I slid my hand up her leg, stroking the soft bare skin above her stocking top and then moving further upwards. She was right – her cunt was dripping, and then I felt her fumbling with the zip of my trousers. She slipped her hand inside, struggling to free my cock, and then she arched her body against me as she ran her fingers up and down it.

‘Do you know what I’m going to do to you when we get home?’ I said thickly, and she smiled.

‘Fuck me, I expect, darling. But you can do whatever else you like to me, if you want to!’

‘Fucking will do for a start – I’m going to fuck your brains out,’ I said, and then the taxi came to a halt. I stuffed my cock back into my trousers, and as I paid the cabbie he winked at me – he’d been watching us in his mirror, I guessed.

Once inside the door, I jammed my mother against the wall and kissed her once more – I couldn’t get enough of her mouth, and I kissed her roughly, trying to ram my tongue down her throat. At last I released her; she was staring at me wildly, and this time her breasts were heaving with a vengeance. I put my arms round her and managed to unfasten her dress.

I stepped back. ‘Take it off, Mum. Take everything off. I want to watch you undress, and see without a stitch on!’

Her eyes fixed on me, she slowly pushed the dress down and stepped out of it, to stand before me wearing just her bra, panties, suspender belt and stockings. Then she twisted her arms behind her back to unhook the bra, and slowly, very slowly, slipped it off her arms, stroking her breasts as she freed them, all the while watching my reaction. They weren’t overly large, but they were majestic; beautifully formed, capped with magnificent, dark brown stippled aureoles from which jutted cylindrical nipples at least half an inch long. They stood up as proudly as if they belonged to a twenty-year-old, and I was reminded of ripe, luscious fruit Then she hooked her thumbs into her panties, easing them down an inch or two. They were so fine as to be practically non-existant, the lace doing nothing to hide a profusion of pubic hair. Mum finally pushed them down over her hips and let them fall to her ankles, and I saw that, unlike her hair, her luxurious bush was slightly streaked with grey. Next, I watched her discard the suspender belt and bend to roll down her stockings, those delectable breasts swaying provocatively, until finally she straightened up, completely naked. She paused, then slowly revolved in front of me, looking over her shoulder and watching me stare at her bare bottom.

‘Do you like me, dearest?’ she asked anxiously, smoothing her hands over her body.

‘I love you, sweetheart,’ I croaked. ‘I mean it – I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!’

I lifted her into my arms, kissing her and then lowering my head to take one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking it as she tightened her arms round my neck. Then, still kissing her, I carried her into her room, and deposited her on the bed before tearing my clothes off.

‘You’re beautiful too,my darling,’ Mum whispered, and then I threw myself on top of her.

‘Do it to me quickly, dearest – I’m coming already!’ she gasped, parting her legs and guiding me into her.

I needed no urging, and began pounding into her. Her body was wet with perspiration, and she writhed beneath me. I kissed her hungrily, hearing her breasts squelching against my chest. She jerked against me, matching my movements: with one hand I grabbed her breast, and I slipped the other under her to clutch her bottom, forcing her against my loins even harder. Mum was moaning, her body thrashing wildly, and then she screamed as I exploded into her, feeling myself spurting uncontrollably. She clung to me desperately, sinking her teeth into my shoulder as my semen jetted deep inside her. At last the flow subsided, and Mum stared at me with heavy, sex-drugged eyes.

‘Was I all right, my darling?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Did I come too soon for you, my love? Or not do what you wanted?’

I kissed her softly. ‘You were wonderful, Mum. It was the best fuck of my life,’ I said honestly, and she sighed.

‘I so wanted to please you, dearest. I’ll do lots of other things for you – to you – whenever you want. But as long as you’re happy now, so am I.’

We lay quietly for a long time, just holding each other and kissing gently, and then we began exploring each other. I must have kissed every inch of her body, sucking her breasts as I stroked her bottom, slipping my finger into the cleft and probing her anus.

‘God, you’ve got wonderful breasts, Mum,’ I said, nibbling her nipple.

She sighed. ‘You did that when you were a baby. Oh, I wish I had some milk to offer you, my darling.’ She cupped her breast, offering it up to me and rubbing her engorged nipple against my lips. ‘Suck me again, my baby! Pretend you’re drinking me! Suck me dry, dearest! Now the other one! Oh, Christ, I’m having another orgasm, just thinking about it!’

Mum shuddered, then slid down the bed and nestled her face against my stiffening penis, kissing it as she fondled my testicles.

‘It’s been years since I last saw your Penis, darling. It was beautiful then, but it’s even better now. I saw you masturbating once when you were a boy,’ she murmured. ‘It was lovely watching you, and when you came I nearly fainted. I felt guilty, but excited, somehow, too. But I never thought then that I’d feel you come inside me – or how wonderful it would be. I know now, though,’ she whispered, and smiled up at me. ‘God, the way you filled me up was heavenly, my dearest.’

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