A Mother’s Call

Literotic asexstories – A Mother’s Call by TxAuthor,TxAuthor All Characters are 18 or Older.

Chapter 1

The text had been short but clear. “Can you come home for the summer?” Mom had sent it a few weeks before finals. She knew I was looking for an internship after my freshman year of college, one that would keep me from spending my summer with her. Her text, which I received in the middle of physics lab, had no context but I knew why she had asked. Even though it meant missing an opportunity so early in my college career, I pulled out my phone and texted “of course” before my lab teaching assistant could catch me.

Finals came and went, and Mom showed up with a rented truck to load out my dorm. My college friends marveled at my mom, but it was just how things went for me. My mother was young. She had met my father, who was forty-five years her senior, when she was twenty. She had me two years later, and Dad has passed a year ago in the middle of my senior year of high school. I was the only family mom had, and I knew that my friends all found her attractive. I had heard about it for years. She was slender, pale-skinned, with long black hair. She maintained her figure and, due to good genetics, looked like she was in her early twenties still. We used to joke that she was immortal. My friends, on the other hand, joked that she was the hottest of our moms. I had to agree.

My college friends helped us load the truck and we were off, driving two days across the country. We stopped in Texas on the first night, staying in a hotel that was open late but still nice.

“Do you care if we share a room?” Mom said.

“Of course not,” I said. She smiled, a silent thanks for not having her stay by herself. Since Dad’s passing she had been alone, and I knew spending my summer home was for her benefit. Still, I loved my mom and she was my whole world. Having a much older father meant I spent a lot of time with my mom. In some ways, we were closer than most sons and mothers.

I read a book while Mom showered. There were two queen beds and I took the one by the door, as was our custom. She exited wearing a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her long hair. She was brushing her teeth and smiled at me when she saw me. In my entire life, she had never failed to smile when she saw me. Mom hung up the bath robe and crawled into bed, bidding me goodnight.

After a while, in the dark, I heard my mother’s voice.

“Stephen?” she said, searching.

“Yeah, I’m still up,” I said. I had been scrolling on my phone while I thought she had fallen asleep. I saw her get up and cross over to my bed. I understood, and lifted the sheet. She slid in next to me, turning her back to me and curling up with a pillow. My mom had sometimes crawled into my bed at home, and did so much more often after Dad’s passing. She said nothing, and quickly settled in to sleep. I thought nothing of it, and scrolled some more before finally set my phone down to fall asleep.

I woke up first. Mom was asleep, her back still to me. She wore pajama pants and a t-shirt. The sun was bright in the room and I put on my glasses and sat up in bed. We had a eight-hour drive and we could afford to sleep in a little. I sat up and looked at my phone while mom slept. Mom has a small waist but had a good figure, and I noticed she looked as youthful as ever. I did notice a few grey strands in the long black hair that spilled onto the mattress like liquid darkness. Those were new.

Mom shifted in her sleep, arching her back. She shifted enough that her pajama pants slipped down over her hips, showing some of her back. She had deep dimples on her lower back, and I looked at the twin indentations on her smooth, pale skin. Mom never tanned, and her pale skin was in stark contrast to her hair. I found myself looking at the curve of her hips, and noted how perfect she was in proportion. Mom was a little shorter than average, and her narrow waist made her appear even smaller.

She shifted again, moving toward the headboard. Her pajama pants slid down further, and to my surprise they slid down enough that I could see several inches of her bare ass. Mom, apparently, had nothing on under her pants. I knew I shouldn’t look, but I found myself unable to do anything else. I set my phone down and looked her over. Her curves were soft, smooth, and in the morning sun seemed to shimmer. I don’t know why I kept looking, but I did. My friends has always teased me about how attractive my mom was. In fact one of my closest friends made no secret that he thought she was hot. The fact that she looked exactly the same for my entire life didn’t help fuel my friends’ comments.

Mom rolled over, still asleep. As she moved her pants rode lower, and I looked down her smooth midriff and caught my breath suddenly. Her pants were so low on her hips that I could see, in the slight bridge they made across her hipbones, the faintest wisps of her dark, curly bush. My eyes widened and I felt my cock swell suddenly. It was like a magnet, I was drawn to it without thinking. I was ashamed by my biological, instinctual response. This was my mother, after all.

My shame aside, I still was intrigued. I slid down my pillow slowly, getting a better angle down her pants. I could see a jet-black tangle against her pale skin. My dick kept growing, and I told myself it was just the surprise factor. I also felt a strange pull to keep looking, and it took considerable will to look away. When I did I noticed my mom’s tits. They were a decent size, not too big but not to small. Through the thin fabric her nipples were hard. It was cold in in the room, after all, I told myself.

The view was surreal, amazing. My dick was fully erect and throbbing, and my mother slept peacefully. In a moment of hormonal irrationality I picked up my phone and opened the camera. I took a picture of her tits, straining agains the tight, thin fabric of her shirt. I then angled my camera carefully, taking a picture down her pants. And then another.

Mom inhaled slowly and I almost dropped my phone. I closed it and stashed it as as rolled onto her side, her eyes opening slowly.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Goor morning, Stephen,” she said sweetly, her eyes half closed. I was painfully aware of the bulge in my pajama pants and turned from her to sit up, using the opportunity to adjust myself. I stood up and looked out the window, willing my erection to subside. This was, I had to remind myself, my mom. Some inner part of my brain reminded me that I had just taken pictures of her bush, and my dick throbbed in response, almost mocking me.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, and headed into the bathroom. I turned on the water and stripped down, my dick pointing out angrily, pulsing with my heartbeat. It might have been my imagination, but I had never been so hard. I told myself to just take a shower, we had a long day of driving ahead of us. I stepped into the shower and looked down and my swollen, turgid member. I had never been this hard, and I was struck my the realization that it looked a little…bigger. It was an optical illusion, I told myself, but it definitely struck me as different.

I thought about the soft curves of mom’s ass, and her perky tits, and of course of the dark bush under her pajamas. It called to me, almost like a siren’s song. Before I knew it, I was stroking my shaft. I had masturbated hundreds–maybe thousands–of times in my life. I had discovered masturbation early, and I still remember the first time I ever came. I had no idea what I was doing, and was rubbing against a pillow when my orgasm overtook me without warning. I remember crying out in surprise, but also wanted to chase that feeling forever. Since that first moment of pleasure, I had probably masturbated every day. I found that each time I came,I felt an electric energy for the entire day.

This time was different. I had of course thought of many things while pleasuring myself, but never my own mother. Yes, she was gorgeous, but you can compartmentalize those things. However, I thought of her smooth stomach, her hard nipples, and that tantalizing dark tangle between her legs. I stroked myself and wondered what it would feel like to brush my fingers against her soft, curly hair over her soft mound.

I was coming. I bit my lip and kept stroking as I erupted. A forceful pulse shot cum across the shower. I kept spurting cum, surprising myself by the force and volume of my orgasm. My knees buckled and I kept stroking, my cock now an angry shade of red as I pulsed over and over. Finally, the past ropes of cum spurting out feebly, I leaned against the wall and let go of my cock. Slowly, it softened, but hung heavily between my legs. I had never come so much, or so hard. It felt like that first orgasm I had been chasing for over a decade.

I stood panting for some time, starts flitting in and out of the corner of my eyes. I told myself it was so powerful because I hadn’t taken care of my needs for a day or two, a rare dry spell for me. Even as i tried to tell myself otherwise, I thought of the dark patch of hair between my mother’s legs. I shook my head in an effort to clear it, and finished showering, making a point to rinse all of the cum off of the shower glass.

In my desire to get in the shower and get off, I realized I had not brought a change of clothes into the shower with me. I dried off, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I poked my head out of the bathroom. Mom was still in bed, looking at her phone. She looked up at me and beamed.

“You’ve been working out,” she said, lookin back at her phone. I blushed, maybe in part because I had just been pleasuring myself.

“I’m just going to get dressed,” I said, wondering why I would even explain what I’m doing. I was certainly not going to leave the hotel wrapped in one of their towels.

“Go ahead,” she said, her eyes still on her phone. “I’m not looking.”

“I’ll just change in the bathroom,” I said, grabbing my jeans and a t-shirt.

She was still looking at her phone. I felt self-conscious and picked up my clothes and stepped back into the bathroom. I got dressed, stuffing my semi-swollen member into my jeans. I had opted to wear nothing else underneath for a while, and enjoyed the freedom. When I emerged mom was already changed. I wondered if she would have changed had I stayed in the room with her, and chastised myself for even thinking it. Mom put on a linen shirt and a tank top. She had a straw sunhat on and was already packing her small overnight bag. We checked out and hit the road after a quick breakfast.

I drove the truck. Mom had flown out to get me, and I didn’t have a car at college. She sat in the passenger seat, her knees drawn up. She always looked impossibly youthful. We were silent for a while, both still tired from the day before. It was only once we were on the interstate that Mom spoke.

“Stephen, thank you for coming home this summer. I know you didn’t take an internship, and I’m grateful.”

“There is plenty of time for an internship, I didn’t mind coming home. In fact, I’ve missed you, Mom.”

She smiled, “I’ve missed you, too, kiddo.” It was like old times. Even when Dad was alive, his advanced age made it difficult to keep up with a rambunctious boy, and Mom did most of the parenting. My father was a historian at the local university. I didn’t really know what he did for a living, but he had a home office and talked about old manuscripts and things like that. I was going to college with an undeclared plan for life. Mom had been sad to see me go, and I regretted leaving her in our empty house when I left. I had a great time my freshman year, but I still called or texted Mom every day.

We talked about the end of my semester and Mom updated me on the renovated master bathroom at the house. When I was young Mom wrote and sold a novel that had unexpected success, enough to quit her office job and keep at it. She used a pseudonym, as her novels could get a pretty steamy. They weren’t tawdry romance novels but they were very popular with women. I had read them all.

After a time Mom fell asleep, as she often did on long car rides. I drove in silence, occasionally looking over at her. When I stopped for gas she was still asleep, and I took a long look at her before resuming the drive. Her tank top was tight and through the thin fabric of her top and bra her nipples were hard and poking through. Her smooth, toned legs were curled up on the seat and her skirt rode up a little, showing more of her thigh than she would normally do. I longed to look closer, but started the car, aware of the growing bulge in my pants.

We stopped for dinner, eating outside on the patio, enjoying the warm summer air. Mom poked at her salad, picky as always. She never seemed to eat much, but then again neither did I. We chatted for a while, our conversations always so effortless.

“By the way,” she said after the waiter refilled her drink for what felt like the fiftieth time, “I was surprised you were so sheepish this morning.”

“Oh, changing?” I said. I looked around but no one was nearby. “I don’t know. I just haven’t before, I guess I was embarrassed or something.”

She smirked. “I said I wasn’t going to look, Stephen. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“I was a baby, that’s different.”

“Not just a baby,” she said with a grin. “I guess you don’t remember, but you used to shower with me until you were about six or seven.”

“We used to shower together?” I said.

“I always wore a bikini bottom, but I wanted to make sure you showered correctly, I couldn’t trust you to do it by yourself that young.”

“A lot has changed since then,” I said.

“Maybe so,” she mused, stirring her salad a little. “You had a big one back then, I assume it’s still pretty big.”

“Mom!” I said, a little too loudly. A table across the patio looked at us but I ducked my head and lowered my voice. “What the hell?”

“Okay, sorry,” she said, laughing. She put up her hands and then said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” As she laughed her tits jiggled and my dick twitched in my jeans.

On the drive home I brought up the subject. We were away from fellow diners and nosy waiters, and what she had said had been on my mind. “Mom, were you being serious? About what you said at the restaurant? That I was, big for my age?”

“Totally,” she said, looking over at me. Her tits bounced with the truck’s poor suspension. I tried not to look but failed. “I got comments about it when you were little, on playdates. It was abnormally big. Let’s just say I got a lot of compliments about it. And, before you ask, you get that from my side of the family, trust me.”

I took in this information. My dick was swelling up slowly. In part because we were talking about something that we shouldn’t and partly out of, I didn’t know, maybe pride? My mother beamed at me with her perfect smile. She never wore makeup, and always had a radiant beauty. Aside from those few, new gray hairs, she had not aged a day.

We got home and decided to unload the truck the next day, we were too tired. I grabbed a few essentials and headed back into our house. It felt, for lack of a better word, right to be back. My father’s passing had left the house a little quieter, but being here with Mom felt like I was in the right place, at the right time. Mom seemed to brighten even more, looking at me fondly as she always did. I was her whole world, and now we were home.

Still, I slept fitfully in my old bed. It was familiar but nine months away had made it feel different. At the same time I was grappling with my thoughts and feelings. I felt overstimulated, and my mind kept returning to my mother’s comments about my member, and how she had looked that morning, and how her tits had jiggled in the truck. She always wore clingy tops and my friends had commented about her tits for years. I was surprised to find myself thinking about them. I was also, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, hard.

I knew if I just came I could fall asleep. I hesitated, knowing that my mom was on my mind, and that doing so while thinking of her was wrong. At the same time another part of my brain picked up my phone and pulled up the pictures I took down my mother’s pajama pants. My other hand had already freed my dick from my pajamas. It was stiff, pulsing in my hand and dripping with desire. I didn’t care about the mess I was about to make, I started to stroke.

I looked at the pictures of her black, curly hair down her pants, and my mind wandered to her jiggling tits in the truck. Any thought that this was my mother was eradicated from my mind. I wanted to come, and thinking of her intensified my need. I bit my lip, bucking my hips and waiting for the release I desperately needed.

In my mind I suddenly saw my mother, dressed as she had today, standing over me. A golden, almost blinding light radiated from her. She looked down at me with the same loving gaze she always had for me. In my vision I was hard, my dick in my hand but my phone nowhere to be seen. Wordlessly she lowered herself, sitting on and impaling herself on my dick, her linen skirt flowing over me. I felt her warm, wet pussy envelop me, and I came. My hand worked furiously, the vision now gone. I was alone, in my room, my dick pulsing in my hand. The first spurt sent a thick rope over my head onto my pillow. The second hit my chest, with each successive pulse fading in intensity. I kept stroking, my whole body electric with energy. For a moment, I felt like I could almost see in the dark. My swollen cock was clearly visible in my hand, with huge stands of cum streaking up my body.

I was too exhausted to clean up, and with my softening dick still in my hand, I fell asleep. In my dreams, my mother visited me. She wore a white dress, her hair in an up-do, gold bracelets on her arm. She looked as young as ever but from a different time.

Chapter 2

We unloaded the truck the next day and I returned it. It felt good to drive my car again, a birthday present from my mother. My mother’s books had definitely paid off over time, and we lived comfortably. I spent the day visiting friends and when I got home, Mom was in my dad’s office. I rarely entered it growing up, as it held little interest when I was younger. Behind my mother, built into the wall, was a safe that I had never seen open. It was ajar now, and my mother was returning a book to it. She saw me entered and beamed as she shut the safe door.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Pretty good, saw some friends, did some stuff.” I had not grown out of the teenage habit of saying the minimum amount of detail. “What are you up to?” I asked.

“Some stuff,” she replied with a smirk. “I write in here sometimes, but it’s pretty stuffy, not my style.” She had a cup of tea on the desk and a document open on the desk top. I paused, looking around the room. On the desk were photos of dad, of us, from various stages of our lives. I picked up one from when I was in first grade, smiling with my then-oversized ears–thankfully I grew into them. Mom looked the same.

“Mom,” I said. “You don’t seem to age, ever.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’m ancient,” she teased. She took back the photo and her hand brushed mine. Her skin felt energized. She didn’t seem to react the same. I sat on the leather couch and looked at her as she leaned against the desk.

“What’s in the safe?” I asked.

“Some documents, a few books, nothing exciting. Come on, take your mom out to dinner.” She held out her arm and I took it, and we headed out for the evening.

When we got home we went swimming. The pool was warm, and the evening was hot. Mom loved the water and spent as much time as possible in our pool. She wore a green bikini and I marveled at her figure. Her tits seemed to defy gravity, although to my knowledge she had not done anything cosmetically. I was intoxicated in her presence, it was a new sensation for me. I had always been close to my mother, but now I found myself appreciating her in new ways. Ways in which I shouldn’t.

As we swam we talked. Mostly about school and her new novel, she had a few sticking points she wanted to run past me. It was only late in the evening that the conversation turned to Dad. She swam close to me, her voice low.

“I know you miss him,” she said.

“I missed you, more, Mom,” I said. I felt guilty saying it, but my father’s passing had not been as traumatic an event as expected. He succumbed slowly, and he and I were never close. I was, to him, a distraction from his academic pursuits.

“But I’m glad you had fun in your first year of college, and you did well in your classes,” she said proudly. “Plus I’m sure you had time to experience life to the fullest.”

“It wasn’t that full. Mostly studying and playing video games.”

“Oh, come on,” Mom said. “I’m sure you had some fun with girls.”

“I didn’t, really,” I said, blushing. Mom swam closer, her tits moving hypnotically in the water.

“You are a handsome young man, who is funny and smart, and charming,” she said, “anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“You have to say those things because you’re my mom,” I said.

“True, but I mean them,” she said. Then she gave me a mischievous grin and said, “and I might add that you’re probably packing a lot downstairs, you’d make a girl very lucky.”

“Mom!” I groaned. She laughed and swam around me.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” she said. We had never spoken this way, and I found I didn’t know how to handle it. I was also turned on by what she was saying, and self conscious about it. “Fine, I won’t mention it again.”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” I said hastily, and she laughed. “I mean I enjoyed the compliment.”

“I figured you did,” she said. The steamier scenes in her books got her fans flustered, they were subtle but had an effect on the reader. She had written a lot about ‘members swollen with anticipation and longing’ and the like.

“I’m guessing Dad’s wasn’t?” I ventured. Bringing Dad up was always a touchy subject. There was always an edge when she now spoke of him. I could’t place its meaning.

“Your father was alright, down there,” she said. Mom was so open about everything, I was not surprised she told me. “But I imagine yours is much bigger.”

“You write about big ones a lot in your books,” I said.

“I like big ones,” she replied with a smirk, and laughed as I regretted what I said. She She got out of the water and dried off.

“Good night, kiddo,” she said, and walked into the house wrapped in a towel.

I went to bed late, playing video games online with some friends for a while. When I finally turned off my lights I heard a knock on my door. Mom entered after I answered. She looked at me with a soft expression and I motioned for her to crawl into my bed. She settled under the covers and said goodnight.

That night I dreamt that my mother was hosting a dinner party, the house full of her guests–all women. I was serving drinks, completely naked. I felt self conscious and tried to leave and go change but women were everywhere. All the while my mother entertained and flitted about the house, checking on me now and then, as if everything was normal.

I woke up with a start. We had slept in, and my body was stiff from sleeping in an odd position. Mom was asleep on her stomach, her hair spilled out over the mattress. I sat up quietly, not wanting to disturb her. I was admiring the curve of her round, firm ass when she woke up. She looked at me through half-shut eyes and shuffled closer to me. She snuggled up against me, her head on my chest, and she fell back asleep. Our bodies were pressed close together, and to my horror my dick started to grow.

I tried to think of other things to no avail. Slowly, a tent formed in my pajama pants. Mom wasn’t touching it but if she woke up it would be there, impossible to ignore. It didn’t help that her tits were pressed against me, the thin fabric telegraphing her hard nipples against my chest. She slept soundly, her black hair draped onto me. I needed to extract myself from the situation, or at least to calm down. I tried thinking of other things, but in the back of my mind I thought of my mother in a bikini, and how she looked better than anyone I had ever seen.

I was acutely aware of how my dick throbbed and I wanted more than anything to release my tension. There was no way I’d be able to do it with my mother there. But I also wanted nothing more than to come.

Mom woke up, sitting up slowly. I hastily moved the sheets and adjusted my swollen cock, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She stretched, slowly, revealing her smooth midriff.

“Good morning,” she said. She lay back down, putting her head on my chest. “Is it okay that I come in here some times? I’ve been so alone in this house.”

“I understand,” I said. “It’s like the old days when you’d sleep in my bed, or I’d sleep in yours when Dad was out of town.” At the mention of his name she stiffened a little and I regretted saying it.

“It’s a little different now,” she said, although I didn’t catch her meaning, if there was one. She got up, stretching again, and left the room. I spent the day unpacking and getting settled into being at home for three months. I was taking a few classes online to stay ahead of things, but I had most of the summer to myself. I found mom floating in the pool that afternoon, the same green bikini clinging to her skin. She bid me to come and join her, and I went upstairs and changed.

I swam while she floated. At some point I swam up to the float and hung off of it for a while. We drifted in silence for some time. Her nipples were hard under her bikini, and the bottom formed a bridge across her hipbones. I strained, trying to get a good angle without being obvious, trying to see down her bikini bottom. I could no longer deny, as my attention centered on that effort, that I was attracted to my mother.

Mom’s eyes were still closed but she spoke. I tore my eyes from her bikini bottom to look at her face. She spoke quietly, evenly. “I get so lonely, and I couldn’t face the summer without you.”

“I’m here,” I said, and she smiled though her eyes remained shut.

“You’re too sweet,” she said. “I shouldn’t have kept you from that internship.”

“No, it’s fine, Mom, really. It’s fine. I am happy to be home.”

“Well, I feel guilty, I don’t want to keep you from your friends, from hanging out. You could be meeting some girls.”

“I’m fine, I see my friends all the time. Plus, to be honest, I’m pretty unlucky in the girl department.”

“I still can’t believe that’s true,” she said. She cupped some water in her hand and doused herself gently, cooling off. Her bikini got wet and clung to her skin. I watch, greedily.

“You’re too handsome and charming to be single,” she said.

“You’re too nice, and you’re my mom, so you have to compliment me.”

“I’d do if it I weren’t your mother,” she countered. She slid off of the float and swam around me. She ducked under water and I was worried that if she opened her eyes she’d see my erection sticking out under my bathing suit. She swam gracefully, moving through the water as if she was meant to be in it. She surfaced near me, treading water as she was too short to stand where I was. She grabbed my arm and pulled close to me. Her touch exhilarated me.

“Come with me,” she said. She exited the pool and wrapped a towel around herself. She led me into the side door that led directly from the pool to her master bathroom. The air inside was chilly on my damp skin, and I was thankful that my erection shriveled in the cold. That was until my mom reached into the glass shower stall and turned on the water. She felt the temperature, and then when satisfied, gestured that I follow her. I did, numbly, unsure of what was happening. Mom shut the shower door after I entered. It was a spacious shower, built for two.

“What are we doing?” I said, dazed.

“Taking a shower, dummy,” she said kindly. She let the water douse her long hair. “Before we go out for dinner.” I nodded feebly, confused. We have five bathrooms, why share one? My question was answered immediately.

“I used to love taking showers with you, it was an escape for even twenty minutes a day,” she said kindly. She then reached back and untied her bikini top. My mouth opened as she took it off and hung it over the shower wall. My mother was topless, her tits more glorious that I could have imagined. She looked youthful, pert, and I was stunned.

“You said you didn’t remember showering with me,” she said. “So here we are. You can close your mouth, Stephen,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh,” I said, and she turned her back the shampoo her hair. I reached for the soap and started to shower, trying to treat this as mundane as possible. She turned, her hair full of lather, and looked down at my swimsuit.

“You’re supposed to take them off, that’s how this worked,” she said simply, as if giving me instructions on how to bake a cake. When I faltered she continued, “Your shorts, Stephen, they come off.”

“But Mom, I’m not a kid, and…well things are different.”

“You don’t have to do it,” she said sweetly. “In fact I’ll put my top back on.”

“Wait!” Said, and she laughed. She looked down at my shorts, expectantly, and there was something about her that made me want her to be happy no matter what. In that instant, I would do anything for her. I untied the drawstring of my swimsuit and gingerly slid it over my throbbing member. She was passive, looking at me nonchalantly as I stripped it off. She smiled as if this was the most normal thing we could be doing.

She handed me a sponge and she showered next to me. She said nothing of my nudity, or the erection violently pointing at her. She kept her bikini bottom on and I resisted the urge to beg her to take it off. After a few minutes she rinsed off and stood on tiptoes to tell me “See? I told you that you had a big one.”

She reached for a towel and stepped out of the shower she left me to my own devices. I did not hesitate. As soon as she was gone I grabbed my member and stroked. It was too much. She was perfect, her pert breasts and flat stomach, even the way her wet hair fell down her back. I stroked furiously, hoping she wouldn’t come back soon, and hoping at the same time that she would. In my mind she was still there, inches from me, water running down her firm body. Just as before, in my imagining she reached out, and it was her hands stroking my cock, begging me to come. I could almost feel her touch, though it was just my imagination. In my head she stroked me, told me I had a beautiful, big cock, and that she wanted my cum. My knees shook and I came, leaning against the back wall of the shower while I spurted cum all over the shower floor. I came in torrents of lust, no longer disguising what I wished, what I longed for.

I kept stroking, my orgasm seeming to build over time until finally, my legs buckled and I had to steady myself. I kept pulsing, shooting the last few small strands of cum into the floor. The water washed them away and I looked down at my member, red and semi-hard, as it dangled between my legs. I rinsed off and grabbed a towel to get ready for dinner.

Mom took us somewhere expensive. She drove, and I was treated to a good view of her legs. She wore a black dress, with a flowing lower half. I had dressed up as well, and as we hit the town it dawned on me that we looked close in age. Mom still looked like she was in her early twenties, and I was about to enter my early twenties. Our valet gave us a look and I wondered if he thought we were a couple.

We were seated near the back of the restaurant, enjoying some privacy. Thankfully we had a woman server, so they didn’t come to “check in” on Mom constantly. Mom treated us, although as usual we ate little. We talked about everything but the shower, and while we didn’t avoid it, I didn’t feel like we needed to discuss it. It was just something we had done, and didn’t need elaboration. If she felt differently, she didn’t show it. We walked for a while afterward, her arm slipped around mine. We were in an upscale part of town with shopping and lots of things to look at. She stayed close to me, and she seemed to almost glow in the soft light.

“Mom,” I said after a time, “I don’t want to sound weird, but I like spending time with you.”
 “Me, too,” she said. “We’re so much alike, sometimes I feel like you’re in my head.”

I thought of how she had appeared to me during my most carnal moments, erotic visions of the one person I should not be thinking about. I also thought about her body, the way she smiled at me, at the furry patch of hair I could only get a glimpse of, and let myself stiffen as we walked.

That night mom called me down to her room. It was late, and she was in bed editing her manuscript. She set the stack of paper on the bedside table and smiled.

“I know this is weird, sleeping next to your mom, but I really don’t want to be alone, if that’s okay with you?” She had a slight pleading in her voice.

“Of course,” I said. I was wearing pajama pants but wanted to go and put on something more substantial. She patted the bed.

“Hop in.” I could not resist her invitation. I got into bed next to her, the very air around her seemed charged. She shut off the light and snuggled next to me. Of course my cock responded, but I did not care. The lights were off, and she wouldn’t know. I would instead enjoy her warmth and proximity. On one hand this was my mother. On the other hand, this was the most alluring woman I had ever met, who was sleeping next to me. I would do anything for her.

As I drifted to sleep my dreams were vivid. I dreamt we swam, naked, in the sea, but the sky was a color I had never seen before. It was a deep, green blue, with iron-grey clouds that hung low and rumbled. Birds with leathering wings flew overhead. It felt wrong, but also familiar at the same time. Ancient. In my dream Mom emerged from the sea, and I followed her. I was young again, frolicking behind her. She laughed as we played, Mom looking over her shoulder as I ran after her. And then I heard a voice, seemingly from everywhere. My mother stopped, terrified, and the sand opened beneath us. Mom reached out to me but she was swallowed into the sand. I tried to scream but nothing came out but sea water. In an instant she was gone and I fell to my knees in the sand, searching for her. My dream shifted, and there was my mother, in our house, looking happy and sad at the same time. I had forgotten about the sadness behind her eyes sometimes, lost long ago with my earliest memories.

Then my dream shifted again and we were laying in her bed, which was somehow once again on that strange beach. The water crashed gently on the sand and mom slept next to me as birds flew overhead. Mom lifted her head, surveying the surroundings and seeing me. She wore a white, flowing dress of linen, and I was naked. She looked at me and reached down, caressing my stiff member. I let her, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of the sea. Suddenly I felt a new sensation. I opened my eyes and she took me into her mouth.

My dream continued and my dream-mother sucked and stroked my cock. She said nothing, but again her skin glowed golden and I felt the rest of the world recede. She sucked me lovingly, her hands working my shaft. Next to her petite frame I felt mighty. I felt pleasure welling up from inside me, and the first spasm of my throbbing member overtook me.

I woke up as the first jet of cum erupted from my cock. My mother was sleeping next to me, the beach just a fragment of a dream. I tried not to buck my hips as I came, flooding my pajama pants with hot cum. I realized with a shudder of terror that mom had thrown her leg over me, and her thigh was pressed against my pulsing cock. If she didn’t feel it throbbing against her, she would certainly feel the flood of cum that was going to seep through my pants any moment.

It was dark, and mom stirred. She slid her leg off of me and muttered something in her sleep. She stayed close to me, and draped her arm across my chest. I lay there, softly panting, my body energized by a massive orgasm, my mother sleeping next to me. I felt protected, welcomed, and loved.

Chapter 3

I woke up with Mom next to me. My pajama pants were stuck to my body, and I winced as fabric detached from skin. My nocturnal orgasm has been my most powerful yet, and I looked at my sleeping mother with a new appreciation. She was curled up against me, and I put my arm around her waist. In her sleep she pressed closer, throwing her leg across me so her smooth thigh once again rest on my cock. It was soft, although I knew it was only a matter of time before it sprang back to life with her touch.

I looked down at mom and brushed the hair back from her face. She was smiling in her sleep. It might have been my imagination, but the few gray hairs had disappeared. It must have been a trick of the light. Mom seemed to almost glow, and I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

Mom stirred, sitting up. She did not react to my stiff pajama pants or my stiff member. She patted me on the shoulder and stretched. She kissed me on top of head and headed off to the shower. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow her, or go to my own room, but then she popped her head into the room and beckoned me to follow her. I got up, bounding after her. She was already topless, turning on the shower and adjusting the water. I looked at her expectantly and she gestured to my clothes.

“Come on,” she said, and then to my shock stripped off her pajama pants. I stared at her trim, yet wild bush. It called to me like the rolling sea of my dreams, the jet black curls crashing against her skin like waves.

“I take it you’ve never seen a naked woman before,” she said.

“Even if I had, no one would be as beautiful as you.”

She actually blushed, her pale cheeks turning red. She turned to get into the shower and I admired her round ass. I took off my clothes and followed her into the shower.

It was not sexual, despite my erection and my desire to see every inch of her. She talked of our day, playfully splashing me once or twice. My cock, stiff and throbbing, bumped into her side. Each time I touched her I jumped as if touching a live wire. She paid no attention, and showered as if this was something we had always done. I wanted nothing more than to touch her intimately, to pull her close, but after all that had happened in the last few days, this was still my mother.

I also wondered by we really only saw each other naked in the shower. Maybe this was a safe place and way for her to experiment, or just to feel close to me. I reminded myself that I was here this summer at her request, to be close to her. My cock, rigid and throbbing, longed to be even closer.

Mom stepped out of the shower and dried off. I followed, my dick bobbing in the air. She looked at it and giggled, seeming much younger than her actual age. I left with a towel wrapped around me and got dressed. I was dripping with desire but before I could take care of my needs mom called me downstairs. She was dressed in a white and blue sundress, sandals, and her usual broad sunhat.

“Let’s go shopping, I want to spoil you today.”

We spent the day driving around, her car slowly filling with gifts. Mom never splurged before, my Dad was always the big spender. Ironically, it was her money he was spending, as her novels were the major source of our family income. Mom was effervescent, bubbly, and her pale skin seemed to shine in the sunshine as we walked arm in arm. I didn’t care that we were so close in public. Like I said, she looked young enough to be my sister, or my girlfriend.

At the latter thought, my dick twitched. It had been semi hard all day and dripping. As if she sensed my thoughts, Mom moved in closer to me, hugging my arm. As we walked I asked a question that had been on my mind.

“Mom, did you love Dad?” I knew this was a complex question, and I felt Mom stiffen next to me as we walked. She sighed, looking straight ahead as we walked.

“I love that he brought you to me, into my life,” she said. “I love that he was a good father to you. You are my entire world, Stephen, you always will be.”

“But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Why do you want an answer? Is if because you saw your mom naked? Or because you got aroused around her? I see the way you look at me, Stephen. Growing up, that sort of thing was normal for me. I think you take after me more than you realize,” she didn’t speak for a moment. And patted my arm and we turned down the sidewalk toward her car.

“I want you to know, first and foremost, that you are my son and I love you more than you realize. You being here with me, sacrificing an opportunity to spend the summer with me, means more than I can say. And to answer your question, your father was good to me, but your father’s work was more important to him than I was. And he was more than happy to spend the money I earned, while chasing old manuscripts. If I’m going to answer your question honestly, I have only ever loved my parents, my siblings, and my son.”

“I understand,” I said, although I knew I was only catching parts of the truth. I do not think my Mom was lying, but I felt that she withheld something.

“Do you think less of me?” she asked. “I’ve never wanted to come between you and your dad.”

I stopped, facing her. She was holding my hand and it dawned on me how unnatural that was, but also how right it felt. “Mom, I want you to know that I love you no matter what, and I could never think less of you.”

She reached up and kissed me on the cheek. My skin was hot from the touch of her soft lips, almost like a dull stinging sensation. It had to be my imagination. “You’re just saying that so you can maybe see me naked again,” she teased, and I laughed. All was back to our new normal. We held hands and walked to the car.

As we drove mom surprised my talking more about my dad. “I met him in his early 50s, and he swept me off my feet, almost literally. We were married pretty quickly, and I soon found myself alone while he worked. And, quite frankly, I was unhappy. I wrote my first novel out of frustration more than anything. He didn’t want me to publish it, and was almost jealous of it. But I sent it out anyway, and I was surprised how quickly it got snapped up.”

Mom’s first three novels were a series of fantasy novels with a heavy romantic component. They sold very well, and she had signed movie rights that never got made, but had given us a hefty paycheck. She kept a low profile, publishing under a pseudonym.

“The fake name was your dad’s idea,” she explained as we drove. “I think in part to distance it from his academic work. He had initially hoped I would help him with his work, but that didn’t pan out. I think he was done with me at that point, but, on the bright side, you were already on the way.”

I processed what she had told me. When we got home we unloaded the car and had dinner outside by the pool. She changed into her bikini and we sat together, watching the sunset. As the golden light streamed over her, she spoke without looking at me, her voice faraway.

“There’s magic in this world, Stephen, all around us.”

The words stuck in my head. It was a paraphrase of the preambles to one of her books. My dad’s research was on the history of magic, and Mom had always had a fantastical element to her books. I assumed they worked together, him researching historical accounts and Mom writing fiction. Now I wondered.

Mom slipped into the water, creating almost no wake. She moved gracefully, but in the water she seemed to move effortlessly, like a dancer. I watched her swim for a while, admiring her beauty. With each passing moment my mother felt different to me. I loved her more than anything, but now I also wanted her more than anything. I knew this was wrong to feel, let alone admit to myself, but I had to face reality. I hadn’t thought about anything except for her for days. I wondered if this was normal, but my train of thought was broken when she playfully splashed water in my direction.

“Come in,” she invited.

“I’ll go change,” I said. I was still wearing jeans and a shirt.

“Just come in,” she said, and swam under and surfaced near the edge of the pool.

I stood up and took off my shirt. Mom stripped off her bikini top and tossed it onto the deck. I took off my jeans, my dick already semi-rigid, and mom untied her bikini bottom and let it float away like seaweed. I dove into the pool, opening my eyes underwater to see her naked body. I was surprised by how clearly I could see underwater, almost like I wore goggles. It might have just been a trick of the setting sun, I thought. I swam by my mother, who circled me effortlessly. We swam and talked, laughing. She was alight, her eyes sparkling and locked on me.

“This is so much fun,” she said. “Swimming with you, naked.”

“I don’t think most people would agree with us,” I said.

“When I was young, I used to swim naked in the sea with my family,” she said. She never spoke of her family, and I had never met them. Mom had no accent, but I always had the feeling she immigrated to the United States. I realized I knew little about her, at least before she met my dad.

“It was normal,” she continued. “I always wanted to let you swim naked but your dad wasn’t okay with it. I suspect he was jealous.”

“Jealous?” I said.

“Of how much I love you,” she said. “Of how kind, and good, you are. And jealous of that.” She pointed and my erection and giggled.

“It’s kind of embarrassing, to be hard in front of you.”

“I don’t mind, if that helps at all,” she said. “I take it as a compliment. Like I said, I love you more than anything, I don’t care if you look.”

She touched my shoulder and I almost jumped. It was like a spark transferred from her skin to mine. She didn’t recoil, and put her other hand on my shoulder, steadying herself as she swayed in the water.

“It’s hard not to look,” I said, my throat suddenly dry. Her tits swayed as she floated next to me. My dick bobbed, inches away from the curly bush that led to something I would have never imagined wanting, and now wanted more than anything.

“Mom,” I said softly. She looked at me intently. She let go of me, and swam to the edge of the pool. She pulled a float into the water and slipped gracefully onto it. She lay on her back, floating lazily. She paddled with one hand and eventually reached me. She lay, her eyes closed, as the deck lights came on and the sun set. The pool lights turned on, and she seemed to almost glow in the dark.

She kept her eyes closed and whispered, “go ahead and take a look, I don’t mind. I love how you look at me.”

I looked, I stared at her pussy, a thin slit of soft folds hidden by her curly, wet bush. Her pussy lips glistened and I didn’t know if it was from the pool or if she was actually aroused. She shifted her legs slightly and her labia parted gently, and I saw the inner folds, pink and dripping wet.

I suddenly felt a warm breeze, and closed my eyes. When I opened them I stood in the sea, the same one from my dream. The water was calm, and Mom was there, floating on a bed of seaweed and driftwood, woven together to support her. She lay, her eyes closed, as the moon shone over her body. In the distance I saw a mass, maybe an island or mountain, I couldn’t tell. Nearby shapes swam under water but I knew not to fear them. They were there to protect me, to be with us. My mother lay still, her body glowing with a golden light that lit the surrounding water. The mass in the distance shifted, maybe it was a trick of my eyes. Her legs were partly spread, and though her mouth was closed I heard her voice, distant and soft my in head. ‘Come.’

I blinked and I was back in the pool, mom floating next to me. I heard the echo of her voice in my head, ‘Come.’

I wouldn’t call what I had a vision, or a hallucination. Maybe it was just a daydream from a horny mind. No matter what, I sank in the water to my shoulders, gently holding the float to keep mom from moving away. I stared at her pussy, a surprising fold of pink on her pale skin. She almost seemed to glow, or at least I imagined it. With my other hand I gently stroked myself. It felt wrong to do this while she lay next to me, but if she was aware of what I was doing she didn’t show it. She breathed slowly and deeply, as if asleep, and I slowly stroked myself. Her skin was drying and showed goosebumps but her pussy stayed wet, dripping slowly.

I took my time, trying avoid rocking the water or the float, and took in the sights of my beautiful, impossible mother. My cock was warm in my hand, and it was difficult to stroke it in the water, but I managed so slowly build my pleasure. Mom’s breathing remained steady and I watched a bead of her arousal drip down her ass. I wanted more than anything to put my lips to her curly hair between her legs, to taste her arousal, to give her pleasure.

My cock erupted, coming underwater. I looked down as spasm after spasm flooded the water around me with clouds of cum. Despite having come so many times in the last few days, each orgasm seemed impossibly large. I never seemed to tire, and as I came I felt like I too was glowing. My dick softened and I looked at the water around me. The cloud of my seed was dissipating, strands drifting off around us.

Mom opened her eyes and rolled onto her stomach. She looked at me, her eyes alight. She looked down at the cloud around us and at the now flaccid member. I opened my mouth to apologize but she put a finger to my lips.

“Shh,” she said with a giggle. She slid off of the pool float, right into the swirling strands of my orgasm. I was shocked but she acted as if nothing had happened. She swam around me once, and i enjoyed knowing she was swimming through water filled with my seed.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said, and she headed out of the pool. I stood there, waist deep, as my cum dissipated in the water.

Chapter 4

I woke up early, my dreams filled with a dark mass towering over the water, casting a shadow across me as I treaded water around dark shapes swimming around me. When I woke mom was next to me, sleeping on her stomach a foot away. Her round butt drew my attention and soon I was hard. She slept soundly, her hair spilling down her back and across her sides, like a spill from a bottle of the blackest ink. As usual I woke up hard.

I scrolled through the news on my phone for a while, surprisingly disconnected from the goings on of the world. Mom breathed softly next to me, and I stared as her ass for a while. She rolled over, and I could see down her shirt. Her tank top was pulled to the side and I could see one of her pale, soft nipples. Her tits were so firm, I was mesmerized. I stared at her pale tits and my dick was soon throbbing.

I thought of the night before, and of the strange visions I had in my head. I had decided to call them visions, rather than hallucinations. The latter meant I was crazy. The former also I meant I was crazy, but a different kind of crazy. I looked at my mom and tried to reconcile how I felt, and what was happening. How did she feel? She certainly was okay with seeing me naked, and being seen naked. We had showered together. But we had never touched, not in an intimate way. I knew I was the most important person in my mom’s life, but did she feel the same attraction I did? Was she, as I was, in love?

I couldn’t take it, I was overcome with desire. I knew I’d have to clean up a mess but I slipped my pajama pants down, freeing my turgid member. If Mom woke up then I’d have to explain. Part of me wondered if she’d even mind. I stroked myself slowly, trying not to rock the bed.

I expected a vision, or dream, or whatever you’d call it, but there was nothing. Just me, my mom, and my lustful thoughts as I stroked myself. I took my time, trying to keep as still as possible. My cock leaked with arousal and I slid up and down the shaft, almost stopping at the base and head each time. I felt a small wave of pleasure well through me, and then Mom moaned softly.

I stopped stroking, my hand mid-shaft. My dick throbbed forcefully in my hand with each heartbeat. I had definitely heard my mom moan. I feared she would wake up and see me stroking myself. She rolled back onto her stomach next to me, still asleep. She was still and slowly, after a minute or two, I resumed stroking. I started to get into when Mom moaned again. Again I stopped, and contemplated getting out of bed and going to my own room to take care of my needs. This starting and stopping was agony.

However I noticed movement next to me. Mom was asleep, her face buried in her arms, but her hips were slowly grinding against the bed. I could see her ass tense up as she slowly rubbed against the bed. As she did I felt a pleasurable sensation along my cock. It was too erotic to resist. I started to stroke myself. As I did she kept rubbing, her movements increasing but never rising to the level of waking movement.

I was close to coming, and I forced myself to stop. Mom kept grinding softly in her sleep, almost whimpering. I felt a warm sensation all over my body, and for a moment I thought I smelled salt in the air. I resumed stroking and Mom’s grinding intensified. If I stopped, she slowed down. When I sped up, she ground against the bed harder.

Mom moaned softly, and I could almost hear it in my head. Finally, she shuddered, and I felt a warmth settling over me, and my cock felt like it was being gently gripped even though my hand worked along it’s length. Mom ground against the bed, her body tense. She was coming.

I came, too. My cock pulsed hard and cum shot up my chest and over my shoulder, splattering the pillow next to me. I came hard, shooting cum all over my shirt. Mom rolled onto her side, her tit spilling out of her tank top, her skin flush and pink. I let go of my dick, still spurting smaller pulses of cum, my breathing ragged and deep. There was cum everywhere. My shirt, the pillow, it was a mess. I slipped out of bed and threw my clothes in the laundry in my room. When I returned, changed, I vowed to deal with the pillow later. I slipped back into bed, and Mom curled up against me, still asleep.

Mom had a meeting with her editor mid-day, taking the virtual call in the living room rather than my dad’s old office. While she met I went to the office, looking over the bookshelves. My father had books on the history and perceptions of magic, witchcraft, and the supernatural. He never believed in the stuff himself, he studied the history of belief. It was all very dry, and the books did not stir my interest. I looked at the desk and noticed Mom had rearranged it. There was a silver picture of Mom and me from when I was little, and one of us taken before I left for college. The pictures of my dad were gone.

“Hey, kiddo,” Mom said from the door, surprising me.

“Oh, hey, Mom,” I said as she entered. I made no mention of the photos and neither did she.

“Well, I’m signing a new deal,” she announced with a grin. She had a five-part series, with the first manuscript finished, and had attracted attention from several publishers. This deal contained movie rights as well, and while I didn’t know the details, this was a major move for mom.

“Congratulations, we should celebrate,” I said.

“We will, once everything’s signed,” she said. She stretched and leaned against the wall loaded with books. She seemed relaxed today, her movements almost liquid, flowing. I had noticed over breakfast the few grey hairs I had seen were gone. Whether she plucked them, dyed them, or they went away on their own, I could not tell. I could tell that my mother blushed pink when she woke up this morning, and that made me feel on top of the world. Although she had come in her sleep, I felt like I had made it happen, impossible as the thought was.

“Do you want to help me with a project today?” she said. I looked at her, puzzled, and she gestured to the office. “It’s time to clear out this old stuff. Neither of us is going read these old books, and I want to put my own, personal touches to this room. What do you think?”

I nodded, and we got to work. Mom bought boxes and we filled them with books, loading them in my car. It took three trips to donate them all, although we both wondered who on earth would want a book like A History of Witchcraft in Ancient Greece.

“These books are all garbage anyway,” Mom said. We took down Dad’s diplomas, and she put those in the attic crawlspace. We both worked up a sweat, but by lunch the office was cleared out. All that was left was an old rug that covered the middle of the room, Mom’s computer, and the two framed photos on the desk.

“I hate this desk,” she said, and I was surprised by the bitterness in her voice.

“I have an idea, Mom,” I said. I went to the garage and returned with a hammer and crowbar. She looked me quizzically until I drove the crowbar into the desk and split the top in two.

“Wait, let me move my laptop,” she said, and rescued her computer while I demolished the desk. It took some work, and I had broken into a sweat, but I tore the desk into pieces. As I started to haul off chunks of the desk I caught the carpet and pulled it with me. As the rug moved underneath I saw the floor was scuffed and roughly sanded. There was a circular, ten feet wide, sanded down to bare wood. Mom’s eyes widened, and I knew enough that she did not like what she saw.

“Let me get a shovel,” I said. She looked at me, puzzled. When I returned I hit the parquet floor hard. I broke through the sealant, and the first few wood tiles popped up. Mom’s eyes widened but she didn’t stop me. I slid the shovel under the section I had broken and wood popped up, flying ahead of me. Mom stood back as I demolished the center of the flooring.

“Let’s get rid of all of it,” she said, a suddenly seriousness in her voice. She helped, getting a second shovel and helping me move the couch to get all of it. When we finished the sun had set. The were a giant pile of dusty, damaged flooring in the center of the room. Next to it were the remaining pieces of the old desk. I was panting, exhausted. Mom leaned on her shovel, panting but as beautiful as ever.

“I’ll call a contractor tomorrow,” I said. “To get them to haul this stuff out.”

“I’ve got a company in mind. They can redo the office while they’re at it. A new floor, and we can replace the wood paneling with something more modern.” She picked up her laptop and picture frames and left the room, closing the door behind us. “We can afford it.”

“I feel gross,” she said, examining her dusty clothes. She led me outside. There was a shower by the pool, and she turned it on. It was always cold, and she jumped under the water, clothed, and rinsed off. She hopped out and motioned for me to follow. As I did she stripped off her clothes and dove into the pool. I was sore from a day’s hard work and the cold water of the shower invigorated me. I stripped and dove into the pool.

“Thank you,” she said as she swam close to me. “For destroying that office,” she said. She didn’t elaborate, but I understood I had just done something important for her.

“Of course, I’d do anything for you,” I said, meaning more than I could say with those words. “Why did you work in it for so long?”

She said nothing but swam close to me, her tits swaying in the water. My dick was hard, and as she swam close ii bumped into her. She hugged me, my cock pressed against her as she held onto my shoulders. She wrapped her legs around me, the hair between her legs brushing against my thigh. This was too much contact for a mother and her son, but I never wanted to let her go. I wanted, more than anything, to be inside her, to fill her and never stop.

But I didn’t. I was paralyzed, unable to act on my basest desires despite our proximity. She hugged me close and I closed my eyes. In my head she was kissing me, stroking me. I imagined that I was touching her, gently parting her labia with my fingers, exploring her warmth. I heard the waves of the sea as I held her, my cock massaged by the waters. She was panting, and seemed, like me, to be imagining intimate touch. I opened my eyes and I still held her, and her arms were wrapped around my shoulders, but her hands were nowhere near my cock, although I felt as if she were stroking it. She bucked slowly in the water, her eyes closed, her face contorted in pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, and I closed my eyes, thinking of stroking her. In my head I rubbed her pussy softly, our lips meeting for the first time. She moaned softly in my arms as she stroked me.

“Mom,” I said, plaintively, urging her to continue.

“Like this,” she said in my ear. It was her real voice, not imagined. Yet I knew she was not touching me, even though I felt like she was.

“Y-Yes,” I said. “Am I doing it right for you?”

“You could never do it wrong,” she assured me, and in the real world she pressed closer to me, my cock pressed against her thigh. Her course hair was scratchy against my side and those real sensations only heightened the vision in my mind as she stroked me with her soft hands. She gasped and called out, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

I felt my whole cock enveloped with a tingling warmth like before, as if the water itself were stroking it. Mom stiffened in my arms and she buried her head in my shoulder, resting on my collarbone. She cried out, her body grinding against me. I felt my own orgasm build.

“Mom,” I said, pleading.

“Come, come for me,” she said, and I erupted. I felt my dick spasming in the water, flooding the water between us with my seed. She pressed close to me and gasped in my ear. I felt wetness on my shoulder and realized she was crying. I opened my eyes and realized several things at once. My mother was looking at me, tears hanging from her eyelashes like stars, and surrounding us in the pool was a cloud of my seed, shot forth from my spurting cock. And that cloud was glowing gold.

I blinked and shook my head, sure it was a trick, but the water glowed around us, lighting up our bodies. “What’s happening?” I said, a panic rising in my voice.

“Stephen,” she said, her eyes fearful. “It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.”

“But, do you see…” I began, I stopped as I heard a roaring sound above me. We were suddenly in the sea of my dreams, holding each other, while the massive dark object on the horizon towered over us. It was not an island, or a mountain, but rather a massive tangle of tentacles and beaks. Like some mutated kraken bristling with power and fury. I had seen this before, in nightmares when I was a boy.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, pleading. She held me close and tightened her hold on me, as if I might run away. She looked terrified, but not at what we saw. I understood that she was terrified I would leave. My instincts kicked in and I held her close as the golden glow dissipated. We stay there until the waters became clear again. She finally let me go, my cock flaccid and floating. My mother seemed to glow, and as I looked at my own skin, I could have sworn I was faintly glowing, too.

The massive beast towered over us. The dark objects in the water were gone, there was no one to protect us. The beast roared and the sea shook with its rage. My mother let go of me and stood in front of me, the water up to her shoulders. The beast swelled up, sucking the tide in. The water fell to our waists, and then lower. I felt exposed in my nudity, but Mom stood wild, powerful.

“Enough,” she said, and her voice echoed in my head like thunder. In a second we were back in the pool, the water faintly glowing gold from the strands of my cum that drifted away from us.

Mom looked at me in a way that both captivated and terrified me. “It’s time. It’s time that I told you everything. About me, about what you really are.”

Chapter 5

We sat on Mom’s bed. She had changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and I had done the same. She looked tired, her hair disheveled. Her outfit and messy hair gave her the appearance of looking the same age as me. As I thought about it, I realized she looked exactly like girls my age, but beautiful, utterly perfect. Between us sat the book mom kept in the safe in the now-demolished office. Tears streamed down her face.

“Before I tell you everything, I need you to know that I love you,” she said. “I have loved your longer than men have known time.”

I was struck by what she said, but she continued. “What I’m going to say sounds crazy, or out of one of my books. But it’s real.”

“There is magic in this world, all around us,” I said without thinking. She nodded.

“There are things beyond our normal understanding,” she said cautiously, gauging my face for signs that I might run in terror. “Through the years there have been men who have attempted to learn of them, to harness them, and exploit them.”

I nodded, although I understood nothing.

“What some view as forces of nature, or luck, or circumstance, are none of those things. There are forces, beings, far beyond comprehension.” She reached opened the book. It was full of arcane writing and diagrams that looked like the work of a madman.

“Your father was one of these men seeking to discover, to exploit. He devoted his life to the study of the arcane, but while he posited it as academic study, he believed.”
 “And you?” I said, although I knew her answer already.

“Me? I’m older that civilization.”

My mother, the sea-goddess.

“Your father performed a ritual to summon me here, to this place and time,” Mom said as calmly as one would discuss yesterday’s weather. She gestured across the house. “In that office.”

“I know, I was there when it happened, wasn’t I? On the beach. He’s not my real father, is he?” I said. Visions–no, memories–of my mother disappearing on the beach flooded my mind.

“He is, and he isn’t,” she said. “It’s complicated. He called me here, and before I could protest he had taken me, on the floor in that binding circle he had created. Once he spilt he seed I was bound to him, a slave to his bidding. I wept on that cold, wooden floor, so different from the sand and sea of my home. And my son, my perfect boy, left alone without me. I knew my sisters and brothers would watch over you, but I missed you every day.

“And your father, he gloated at his achievement, and of his prize.” She spat the word out bitterly. “I was subject to his whim, and his greed and desire. I was unable, unwilling to resist due to the magic that brought me here. Until one day I got pregnant, and worked a little magic with the little power that remained inside me. My wonderful son, my world, returned to me.”

She looked at me, tears in her eyes. She searched my face for signs that I might not believe, or might reject her. I took her hand, reassuringly, and felt a jolt. I closed my eyes and Mom and I were standing together on the beach, the sea now calm. Towering over us again was the massive beast. At the water’s edge stood men and women, all pale like my mother, black hair flowing in the wind. They were all beautiful, specimens of perfection.

“Your family?” I asked.

Mom nodded, and then pointed to the beast lumbering above them. “And my father.”

I looked up and felt something inside me stir, a flood of emotion followed by a calm peace.

“He’s saying goodbye, at last,” she said. “I can’t return, this time has past. She looked at her brothers and sisters, tears in her eyes, and held up one hand.

I felt a jolt again and we were sitting on the bed. Mom was crying, but she smiled, wiping tears and laughed softly.

“I have been called many things,” she said. “Siren, mermaid, sea-witch. We are nameless, here before the first animal crawled to the shore and took its first breath. We are forever.”

I let my mom’s hand fall away and sat back on my hands, breathing deeply. What Mom was saying was crazy. Was I some ancient fish-person? I was aging, although my mother seemed never to.

“I have so many questions.”

“I know,” she said, kindly. “And it will take a lifetime to answer them all.”

“Do I even have a lifetime,” I said dryly, “or will you have to watch me get old and die?”

She paused, “I need you to understand something. You are from both places, both timeless and mortal. Even though you are my son, your means of conveyance, through your father, limits your form.”

“Limits?” said, my head spinning.

“You will grow old, and die,” she said, a sadness in her voice. “Unless.”

“Unless what?” I said.

“Stephen, I know how you feel, or felt, about me. I know you can sense how I feel. Things for, for beings like us, transcend what humans think. I was born not of a mother but from an explosion of lust and rage from my father. When his seed struck the sands, my brothers and sisters were born, new beings near the dawn of the time. You came to me on a wish, a perfect boy–a perfect man. And then your father stole me from you, from my family and my place in the universe. And ravaged me, subjugated me.

“You are my son, but you are more.”

Understanding hit me alike a tidal wave. “I have to choose.”

She nodded, “you can live a normal life, and experience all the joys and sorrows, or you can be with me, forever. You would stop aging, and that means inventing a new life time and time again, there are ways. There are others, like me, who have been stolen by men craving to control magic.”

These things settled in to me. “You had to wait for Dad to die first. You couldn’t do anything while he lived.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. I pulled her close and she burst into tears. I left her sob in my arms, releasing twenty years of pain. I held her for hours, and as the sun rose I got up, lighting the fireplace in her bedroom. The gas kicked on and she looked, puzzled, at me.

“Can we burn that book?” I asked.

“There is a lot of knowledge in that book,” she said.

“Do we need it?” I asked.

“No,” she replied flatly. I took it and tossed it into the fire.

“I don’t want anyone else to ever do what he did,” I said, referring to my mother’s captor. I would never call him my father again. We sat on the bed, she between my legs as I held her around her waist. She leaned back against my chest.

“How do I choose you,” I said.

“You know how,” she said. “But you cannot undo your choice. You must be sure. I would understand if you couldn’t.”

“But you want me to,” I said.

“Our destiny was to spend eternity together, until it was taken from us.”

“It’s still our destiny,” I said. I reached up under her shirt and felt her bare breasts in my hands. She sighed and turned her head to kiss me. Our tongues intertwined and I tasted sea water. Our kiss was electric, and I felt the roar of the sea in our ears as we kissed. Her firm breasts were warm, her nipples hard in my hand. I kissed and caressed her, the sound of the fire subsiding as the book burned.

“Please,” she said. I slid my hand down her stomach. We kissed and i gently fondled her breast while my other hand slid over her damp, curly hair and over her slick labia. She gasped as I rubbed along her wet folds, parting them gently. I slide two fingers up and down, sandwiching her small clit and sliding alongside it. She panted, letting me explore her as her tongue sought mine. She spread her legs over mine and gave me complete access to her. Slowly we worked her top off of her, her bare tits rising and falling with each breath.

This was my mother, older than time, a creature of mythology, radiating power. My hand worked over her clit rhythmically. I wanted nothing more than to give her pleasure, a moment just for her and for no one else. I gently rubbed her nipple between my thumb and fingers and she moaned. I slid my other hand lower and probed the entrance of her pussy with my fingers before returning to her clit.

“Stephen, my darling,” she said.

“I love you,” I replied, and kissed her. She spread her legs and started to buck her hips.

“Don’t stop, I’m coming,” she said. She thrashed against me, her body rolling like waves. Her pussy flooded my hand and she cried out, spreading her legs wider.

She pulled my hand away and sat up. She wiggled out of her shorts and then pulled mine down until my dick sprang out. She took it into her mouth without hesitation or ceremony.

“Mom,” I whispered, and she moaned, my cock barely in her mouth. She bobbed up and down, and I ran my hands through her jet-black hair. I reached forward and cupped her breast in my hand and I gently bucked my hips upward.

“Stephen,” she said, and sat up, still stroking me. “If you enter me, I give you myself willingly, and you will be forever changed. You will lose the mortal half of yourself.”
 “I have been yours forever,” I said. Her eyes well with tears as she straddled me. She paused over me, and I put my hands on her hips. She sank onto me, slowly accepting my throbbing girth and length perfectly. It was as I was made to be inside her. I realized, suddenly, that I had been.

“Once you come, it will be complete,” she said. She rode me slowly, fully enjoying herself as I filled her and then slowly exited, almost completely. I cupped her breasts and gently rubbed her nipple with one hand will I held her ass with the other. She gasped and laughed playfully, enjoying our touch. She felt like electricity, or a powerful wave pushing me to and fro. I had never experienced pleasure like the feeling of being inside her. My Mom looked down at me and smiled at me, tears of joy dripping into my chest. She road faster, sinking hard onto me, until she started to grind her pussy against while I stayed deep inside her.

Her orgasm was powerful and her pussy gripped me hard. I thought I might come but she shifted and started riding again with long movements. I sat up, pulling her close as I slipped out of her. I was slick from her pussy and I lay her on the bed and she put her feel on my shoulders. She was bent in half as I leaned forward and placed the head of my cock at the entrance of her pussy.

“I will love you forever,” I said, and plunged deep inside her. She gasped and cried out, gripping my arms as I thrust into her over and over. I felt like the biggest tidal wave to ever crash on land was building behind me. Her tits swayed with each thrust and I sank deep into her. I looked down at her, and she seemed to glow. I thrust into her deeply, crying out, and came. I pulsed hard, filling her with my seed. She gasped and I felt the tidal wave crash, destroying everything in my life before that moment. Spasm after spasm filled her, and she shuddered underneath me. She moved her legs to the side and I fell gently toward her, resting my head on her soft breasts. I was still coming, spurting feebly inside her, the longest orgasm I had ever felt.

I finally pulled out, sitting up on the bed. My cum leaked out of my mother, glowing gold. She looked at me lovingly, her body glistening as if we had just gotten out of the water.

“How you do feel?” she said cautiously.

“I don’t know,” I said, panting. “Different, whole.” She pulled me close and we held each other in silence.

After a time I spoke. “Mom, you said there are others, who have been brought to this time.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know of them, but we’ve never met.”

“Are some of them, bound, like you were?”

“Many,” she said grimly.

“Can we help them?”

“Together,” she said, “we can do anything. But, first, let me enjoy the first day of forever with you.” With that she reached down and held my flaccid member in her hand. It started to grow, slowly, as I lowered my lips to her hard nipple, kissing it gently. My hand slid over her wet pussy, our bodies moving in concert like the waves of the sea.