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I came home early that day because of a cancelled tutorial. Going straight to my room I dumped a couple of books and some notes I’d taken during a lecture on the desk and then wondered what to do.

I could have got down to some studying, and had almost reluctantly made up my mind to do just that, when my attention was caught by a strange sound. At first I wasn’t sure if it was inside or outside the house; it was a sort of whimpering sobbing sound.

I listened for a while. It might have been some c***d out in the street crying because it had hurt itself, but somehow it seemed closer than that, right there in the house, but who would make such a strange noise?

When I’d entered the house I thought no one was home. If there was anyone at home that early in the afternoon it would have to be mother but she was often out doing some church or charity work.

My sister no longer lived at home and my father was hardly ever in the place now, since as I knew for sure, when he wasn’t at work he had an interest other than us to take up his time. Her name was Constance; she was about half dad’s age and she worked in his office. I’d only found out because her brother was doing the same course as me and he’d told me about dad and his sister.

I didn’t think mother knew about dad’s little side interest. After considering whether or not to blow the whistle on him I decided not to because I thought as far as mother was concerned ignorance might be bliss and the whole affair might blow over anyway.

I listened to the sound for about half a minute, and then decided I’d better go in search of its source because it did sound as if someone might be hurt.

As I moved about the house I tried to locate the source of the noise and I was finally led to the lounge. The lounge has no door and simply led off from the entrance hall through an arch.

I got about two paces into the room and stopped dead. Mother was home. She was lying back on the divan with her eyes closed but she wasn’t asleep.

There are some things you never imagine your parents doing, though God knows why since they are human just like you; but this was one of those things I didn’t imagine.

Her tartan skirt was pulled up nearly to her waist and her legs were parted. She still had her flimsy step-ins on and she had one finger pushed up the narrow strip of cloth that ran under her crotch and it was clearly inserted into her vagina. Her matching tartan shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and she was pressing the nipple of one of her breasts.

The finger in her vagina seemed to be making a circling movement and I had certainly traced the source of the sound. Her body was writhing and I could see tears running down her cheeks.

The sound I had heard was now distinct. It was a mixture of sobbing and ecstatic cries; “Oh…ah…oh…ah…oh…ah…”

Of course, mother had not expected anyone to come home at that time of the day, and apart from the shock of seeing her masturbating, I felt terrible that I had walked in on her like that.

The sight of her sweet rounded breasts, and although I couldn’t see it clearly, what I imagined must be her soft juicy sex organ, had its effect on me; I felt a tingling sensation in my groin and I started to get an erection.

Afraid that at any moment she might open her eyes and see me I started to back quietly out. Whether I wasn’t as quiet as I thought I was, or whether some instinct alerted mother to my presence I don’t know, but suddenly her eyelids flew open and her and were looking straight into mine.

There was a moment of paralysed shock, and then rapid panic stricken movements as she pulled her finger from her vagina and took her hand from her breast as she made an attempt to cover herself up.

The moment must have been harrowing for her, and it was certainly wretched for me. I had caught her in an intimate private act and as far as I could tell it had been before she had brought herself to orgasm.

Her attempts to replace her clothing were hopeless because she was in such a state of embarrassment and shame; her hands were trembling so much, she couldn’t cope with the buttons. She gave up and burying her face in the cushion at the end of the divan she now began to sob pitifully.

I hung on a pivotal point between running out of the room and going to her. I decided that running away would be pointless and cruel. I had seen her and she knew I had, and we either talked about it now or it would hang over us like a Damocles sword, there, but never spoken of.

I went to her and sitting on the divan I took her by the shoulders and drew her to me. Her head was lying against my chest. Not knowing what else to say I murmured, “Its all right mother…its okay…”

“You saw me…you pendik escort saw me…” she wept, “I’m so ashamed…so humiliated.”

Her distress had the effect of calming me. I felt myself able to offer her comfort, so I said, “Mother, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, millions of people do it; they do it to relax themselves to…to overcome sexual frustration or just for the sheer pleasure of the sensation, it okay.”

“You aren’t disgusted?” she asked, “you aren’t revolted seeing your own mother…?”

“Why disgusted? It’s me who should be disgusted with my self for interrupting you; it looked rather beautiful.”

I took her hand and held it against my cheek. It was the hand the finger of which had been in her vagina and I could smell the faint, tantalising aroma her female fluid. I took the finger into my mouth and sucked it for a moment; there was the lingering taste of her love juice.

Mother’s sobs had diminished and she was looking up into my eyes as if seeking something there.

“Darling, you do mean it, don’t you…that you’re not disgusted with me?”

“Certainly I mean it, I assured her.”

I almost told her about the time a girl had let me watch her masturbate just so I could see how it was done by a female; afterwards she watched me masturbate – a very satisfactory way to exchange knowledge. I decided against telling mother.

I was tempted to ask mother why she needed to masturbate but it would really have been a rhetorical question since I felt I already knew the answer.

As if picking up some vibes from me mother, still lying against me, began to speak quietly, if obliquely, about her reason for masturbating.

“It’s not been easy, Niall, these past months.”

“In what way, mother?”

“Its….its…oh God, I shouldn’t be talking to you like this.”

She burrowed closer into me, her face no longer turned to look at me.”

I stroked her hair softly – strange, I’d never noticed before what lovely hair she had; strong shiny looking hair, wavy and cut to shoulder length. I kissed the top of her head.

“You can talk to me about anything, mother…anything that’s troubling or hurting you. I love you, and what’s the use of love if not to be there for the one you love?”

She looked up at me again and I thought she was going to start crying again as she said, “That was a beautiful thing to say, darling.”

I replied, “I said it to a beautiful woman.”

She was obviously pleased by my words, and instead of crying she gave me a wan smile then giving me a playful slap on the face said, “I’m not beautiful and you shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

I returned her smile and said, “You’ll have to let me decide whether or not I find you beautiful.”

I felt a tremor run though her body and she started to move away from me. I wouldn’t let her go, pulling her close to me again. “Now what is it you shouldn’t be talking to me about?”

She relaxed in my arms and I felt as if I was protecting a c***d who had experienced a bad dream.

“Darling, you really don’t mind if I talk about…about…you know…intimate things?”

“Mother, when I was younger I always knew I could come to you with my troubles and worries, but I’m grown up now and don’t you think it’s time I heard what troubles you?”

I might have considered that she had my father to talk to, but I was aware that the situation was otherwise. No doubt Constance poured out her woes to him these days.

After hesitating for a few moments mother said, “It’s just that…that at times I think I shall go out of my mind. I want…I need…oh darling, this is awful, talking to you like this. It’s so…so personal…so intimate… but I do want to talk to you.”

“Then just say it, mother.”

I had to strain to hear her next words that were spoken so quietly. “Niall, I’m a very passionate woman. I need…need emotional satisfaction.”

Then as if in wild protest her whole demeanour changed and she said loudly, almost aggressively, “For God’s sake, Niall, I’ve got to have something or I shall go mad; I’ve got my needs…all right I’ll say it…my sexual needs, and I go around with this dull ache in the pit of my stomach and my…I get…get wet.”

She quietened down and went on shyly, “That’s why you saw me today…that’s what I have to do now to…to make myself feel good…better.”

I didn’t need to talk about her relationship with father, the obvious was implied in what she had said, and in any case I knew that Constance was getting what mother had once got from him.

“Does it satisfy you – masturbating? ” I asked.

A little, darling, but you see, I’m the sort of woman who needs a man. You do understand what I mean?”

I took the next step very cautiously.

“Have you ever thought of looking elsewhere? I mean, you’re orhanlı escort a very attractive woman and you’d have no trouble…that is if you really wanted to, in getting someone to…”

“To fuck me; that was what you were going to say, isn’t it?” she protested.

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it like that mother,” I replied meekly. “I was going to say that you’d have no trouble getting a lover.” Photos

“Yes, all right, I could get a lover; God knows I’ve had enough offers over the years, but how would I know if they really cared for me, really loved me, and weren’t just using me?”

I thought that the mention of love and caring complicated things a bit. Clearly mother wasn’t to be satisfied with a few sessions of carefree lust; she was greedy, she wanted love as well.

I didn’t really know what to say next so trying sound humorous I said, “Well if you want love and devotion you’d better stick to your son.”

There was a long pause and she was snuggling closer to me than ever. Then looking up at me again she whispered, “You wouldn’t – would you?”

I was trying not only to absorb what she had asked, but what I’d said to make her ask it. I “wouldn’t” what?

If I need any justification for thinking as I did, then I can only say that having seen mother masturbating and then having her so close to me, and in addition having smelt and tasted her femaleness, I had become aware of her in a way that I had never been conscious of before (or had I?).

Whether or not I had ever thought of mother sexually was in fact irrelevant, since seeing her masturbating I was thinking of her sexually now, and to prove it I had an almighty erection. I knew we were moving onto dangerous ground so I tried to sidetrack the talk by asking, “Wouldn’t what, mother?” hoping she’d back off from what I thought were the way things were heading.

“Wouldn’t want to…well we couldn’t could we? It’s not moral or ethical or something like that is it?”

I’d started this thing and now she wasn’t going to let it go. Its strange how in such situations we play a lot of games when one clear and from the heart statement can settle things one way or another. But I would try to go on playing the game.

“What’s not moral, mother?”

Mother now pulled away from me in exasperation.

“For God’s sake Niall, having sex with your mother isn’t moral; that’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

“It’s i*****l too mother; your not allowed to marry your own mother.”

“Niall, who’s talking about marrying mother, we’re talking about sex with mother; that is what we’re talking about, isn’t it? You said I should stick with you and I said…”

“Yes, I know what you said mother and…well…I…”

She seemed to melt against me and I could feel her soft warmth. I was melting myself and admittedly being a master of self justification I was thinking, “Why should some other guy have her when she’s here offering herself to me; and even, my father have her again if he ever leaves his beloved Constance and returns to the conjugal bed?”

She was speaking quietly again and stroking my face; “You wouldn’t…you couldn’t do it, could you darling”

I thought I might as well come out from behind my protective screen so I said somewhat unromantically, “If you mean would I have sex with you, yes I would.”

Mother really dissolved. She was all over me, kissing me and saying, “We only have to do it once, darling, just to find out what its like, and if we don’t like it we don’t have to do it again…just once…I need something…you…touch me here darling.”

Her shirt was still unbuttoned and she drew my hand to her breasts and closed my fingers over a firm rounded mound, its flesh warm and yielding as I pressed it. Our lips met as I fondled her and with open mouths our tongues fought for entry and we were soon exchanging saliva.

I started to gently squeeze the long nipple and mother broke from our kiss and said, “I like my nipples sucked, darling.”

I had no problem with that and I carefully pushed her back on to the cushions and bending over her breast and took the nipple into my mouth. As I sucked her she made a low humming sound; “Mmm…mmm…mmm.” Then after a while she said, “Lovely darling…lovely…now the other one, we don’t want it to get jealous.”

I started to suck the other nipple while I continued to fondle the other one. She tasted very sweet, a bit like blackberry jam and I could almost have sucked her all day, but I was tempted elsewhere.

I started to kiss my way down her body and when I reached her mons she whimpered softly, “Are you going to do it to me, darling?”

I didn’t need to ask what she meant because I’d every intention of doing it.

I moved her slightly and then kneeling aydınlı escort in front of her I took off the step-ins she was still wearing. The crotch of the step-ins was saturated with her lubricant and when I’d removed them and parted her legs I could see why. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a woman so ready for sex. Her vulva was swollen, engorged and glistening with her fluid. When I parted her outer lips and I could see the inflamed inner lips and as I drew near them I could feel the heat emanating from them.

Mother was sighing, “Do it too me…do it to me…”

I started to lick her, pushing my tongue into her hot squishy vagina. She tasted of a mixture of honey and vinegar and her smell resembled that of roses just after they have passed full bloom. As fast as I lapped up her juice it seemed to be replaced, and I understood what she meant when she said that she “Needed something.” She was a woman on the desperate edge of sexual starvation.

The lower part of my face was saturated and above me mother was sobbing, “My clitoris darling…my clitoris.”

I went to raise the small hood covering that little nub of pleasure, but mother was there before me, her fingers raising it and exposing, not the little mound I had seen with other women, but something that resembled a small penis.

I was taken aback at its size for a moment, then realising that I had something I could really suck; I took it into my mouth.

Mother began to cry out, “I’m coming darling…I’m coming…don’t stop…I’m…”

She let out a sound somewhere between a wail and a shriek as she clutched my head to her. Her whole body was shuddering and leaping as she experienced the agony and ecstasy of her orgasm.

As she passed over the peak of her climax she spoke, the words jerking out of her with every orgasmic spasm.

“In me…in me…I…want…you…in me…”

I still had enough rationality to say, “I don’t have anything mother, I haven’t got a condom, are you on the…”

“No…I want you…I want to feel…want…want it…in me…all of…it.”

Sanity fled. Now she was laying back, her legs spread wide and raised. I came over her and she guided me into her.

I was drawn down into the sucking, clinging wetness of her vagina. I could feel it convulsively gripping and releasing my penis. She was drawing me into her deeper and deeper. For a moment I wanted her to suck all of me into her – perhaps a desire to return to her womb?

She had given me the freedom to put my seed into her, and whereas with other women pregnancy had always been something to avoid, I now felt an urgent need to impregnate her. Mother was in the afterglow of her orgasm, but still seemed to be needy. She was crying out, “Put it in me…let me feel it…come in me…sperm…I want your sperm…”

Here legs were wound round me and my hands were under her buttocks as I let the first expulsion of my semen burst into her.

“Yes…yes…I can feel it…deep…in deep…”

With every new plunge into her I strove to get the last millimetre of my length in.

As her legs tightened round me she was murmuring, “Lovely…beautiful…lovely…”

Then my stock of semen came to an end. I had no intention of withdrawing from her immediately; that now overflowing tunnel, filled with her copious discharge of lubricant and my mingled sperm was too seductive to part from quickly, but mother wanted to make sure.

“Don’t leave me yet darling…stay with me for a while…I still want you in me.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” I reassured her.

“Oh darling…my love…it was so beautiful. It’s never been…”

“Beautiful enough for us to do it again?” I asked, interrupting her.

“Yes…oh yes…again and again and again.”

She started to kiss and lick my face, tasting and smelling herself.

“I think I taste and smell quite nice,” she said playfully, “what do you think darling.”

“You smell and taste nice enough for me to want to make it a repeat performance,” I said with a smile.

“Wonderful,” she said, and then thoughtfully, “Next time I shall have to taste and smell you my love.”

“Anytime,” I replied with equal seriousness.

She again looked thoughtful, then smiling she said, “Your father is working late again tonight.”

“So that’s what he calls it,” I thought, “I wonder if mother believes him?”

“We’ve got quite a few hours to fill in,” she went on teasingly, “can you think of anything we might do?”

“Yes,” I replied eagerly, “but this divan’s a bit too narrow, do you think we could do it in your bedroom?”

“Carry me,” she said coyly.

I picked her up but I didn’t carry her straight to the bedroom. I thought we should start afresh, so I carried her to the shower instead.

That was six months ago and Constance proved to be a bit more of a lure for dad than I thought. He left us so now I have mother all to myself – a very pregnant mother I should add. She threatens to have another one after this, and why not? After all, it’s a very pleasant chore making her pregnant.

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