Meeting the Birth Mother Part I by JackDRipper

Meeting the Birth Mother Part I by JackDRipper

Discover the tantalizing journey of passion and connection in “Meeting the Birth Mother Part I” by JackDRipper. Dive into a world of desire and intrigue where boundaries blur and unexpected relationships unfold. Uncover the secrets that ignite their chemistry in this captivating adult tale. Don’t miss out—experience the thrill today!

This is part one of a five part series. I hope you enjoy. I had originally posted this series on reddit but I am in the process of moving all my reddit stories over to this site. So there will be more stories on the way, many of them a lot crazier than this is.

The plane landed and taxied towards the terminal. The butterflies in my stomach were frantic. I was meeting my birth mother for the first time. She was only 18 when I was born and she had been forced by her super-conservative parents and older sister to give me up at birth. I was 16 when I found her online, 18 now, but we had only talked via phone, email, and social media.

She was an associate dean at a prestigious eastern business school. She helped me get in to her school, and said that I could live with her to save money. So here I was.

I glanced at the picture of her on my phone. Most of her pictures I had were work photos. Late thirties, pretty, blonde hair pulled back in a severe pony tail, light makeup, blue blazer, buttoned-up blouse, skirt. The suit absorbed most of her physical features, except that she was relatively slender with some slight mom-curves, especially on top. She had no other kids and had divorced her husband three years before.

I can’t say I ever had carried any resentment about her, but I also couldn’t say I had really ever forgiven her. I think I resented her parents and older sister more for forcing her to give me up. My feelings were in some kind of a limbo I hoped meeting her would finally put to rest.

I walked out of the terminal just as her BMW pulled up to the curb. We settled into the usual chit-chat of how the flight was, how my adopted parents were, and so on. She had on a blue skirt I recognized from her social media and a white blouse that, I realized against my will, was unbuttoned deeply into her substantial cleavage.

I pushed my eyes back forward. She hadn’t noticed my wandering vision, thankfully. It wasn’t like I wanted to bone her, she was my mom. I guess I just was curious what she actually looked like.

We stopped at a Thai place for dinner. When we got to the restaurant she came around and wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug.

“It is great to meet you at last,” she said as we disengaged. “I’m sorry I had to give you up. It wasn’t my choice but my parents and my sister forced me. I have regretted it ever since. I want to make it up to you. I will do anything to make you happy here. If there is anything you need, anything at all, just ask.”

We settled into a booth in the back of the Thai place. For the first time I sat face to face with her. The photos I had seen of her online did not do her justice. She was really pretty, and I could definitely see the resemblance. Her blouse was unbuttoned deeply enough that I could see part of the bra underneath and her substantial decollete. I pulled my eyes back up to her face. Thankfully she had been scanning the menu and didn’t see me wandering.

Dinner was uneventful and we had a nice time chatting, talking about shared interest, school, and the like.

It was a warm summer night as we pulled up in front of a ranch house situated on nearly an acre of land. It was perfectly landscaped. In the back I could see a pool. She showed me to my room.

“Are you up for a swim?” she asked.

A few minutes later I was in my swim trunks in the in-ground pool in the backyard. I heard the back door open and glanced over. My jaw hit my chest.

The filmy yellow one-piece swimsuit my mom wore threatened to become invisible when wet. The nipples on her ample chest poked through the thin fabric and the outlines of her wide, pebbled aureoles were just visible. Between the swell of her hips I could make out a landing strip, a prominent mons, and twin mounds of parted, fleshy labia. It might have been shadows but I would have sworn there was a damp patch between her legs. It was the first time I really had a good view of her body and I was stunned.

I turned my eyes away, then glanced back up at her face sheepishly. As she slipped into the water, she smiled and smirked. Busted.

What the fuck? Why was a staring at my mom’s body? I had just met her. This was wrong, wasn’t it? But she was wearing a swimsuit that left nothing to my imagination. What was that all about? And she seemed to like my wandering eyes.

I took a deep breath. It was her house, if she wanted to walk around naked that was her business. It was up to me to figure out how to deal with this unexpected turn of events.

Look, I’m no catch. I’m 18 years old and a tiny, scrawny weakling. But I was somehow blessed with an 8.5-inch cock. And right now that cock was making me feel really uncomfortable as it shifted around in my trunks.

She swam the length of the pool and back twice. I had settled into a corner of the pool on the steps, feeling uncomfortable and nervous. She swam over and sat next to me. We chit-chatted some more, talked about the college and about academics.

As we talked, her leg rubbed against mine. She put her hand on my thigh only an inch from my burgeoning erection. If she moved any higher she would be in for a surprise. My suspicions were right – her swimsuit was invisible when wet. She smelled of girl and chlorine. The water beaded up on her chest and ran down the gap between her breasts.

This time, she definitely caught me looking.

“I only wore this for you,” she said.

“For me?” I stammered.

“I don’t usually wear a suit.”

My cock came to full attention. Mom grabbed my hand, dragging me back into the water. We had a splash fight, but every time she got close I dodged, not wanting her to bump up against me and realize I was hard as diamonds. I really just wanted to go back to my room. This was happening too fast, I needed time to think.

Finally, she pinned me against the side of the pool. She pressed close, crushing the mass of her chest against mine, her nipples hard through the thin fabric of her suit. She rubbed my raging cock between her thighs.

“I meant it when I said I wanted you to be happy,” she said. “I want to make my past mistake up to you. Anything you need, just ask. Anything.” She kissed me first on the cheek, then a quick peck on the lips, then pulled away. As she moved back she slid her hand down my chest and gave my cock an “accidental” rub through my swimsuit, then climbed out of the pool. She swung her hips as she walked inside. I followed her in, unsure what to think about this entire situation.

It was getting late. My mom said she was going to go take a bath and go to bed. She was peeling off her swimsuit as she walked down the hallway to her room. She turned and blew me a kiss, giving me a quick glance at her bare mom-tits, then she disappeared into the master bedroom suite with a parting, suggestive, “let me know if there is anything you need during the night…anything at all.”

I gulped.

What. The. Fuck.

I went into the other bathroom and took a shower. I stood in the cold shower, feeling like I desperately needed to stroke one out, but feeling horribly guilty that my boner was for my mom. Every time I thought of her being my mom, I lost momentum. Finally I gave up.

Frustrated, confused, I toweled off, pulled on a pair of cotton shorts, and went back to my bedroom. I closed the door and lay down on the bed, feeling absolutely miserable. This was not what I had expected. I wanted to go home.

What my mother was not-so-subtly suggesting was incest, wasn’t it? Wasn’t incest wrong? But on the other hand, we were both of legal age, so what did it matter? She said she wanted me to be happy. She wore an invisible swimsuit right after we met. She made a ton of suggestive comments. She even stroked my cock for fuck’s sake!

Fuck it. She had been coming on to me all night. She had better be ready to carry out what she was promising.

It was my turn to smirk. If she wanted games, it was game time. I thought of just walking into my mom’s room naked, but I decided to be more subtle. I opened my laptop and flipped to a porn site. After a little searching I found a video of a hot milfie blonde sticking a dildo in her snatch. She looked a lot like my mom. I cracked my bedroom door open just a hair, ditched my shorts, and started up the video with the sound turned up.

It had been running for barely a minute when my mom appeared at the door, pushing it open without even bothering to knock. I didn’t pause the video, but lay back on the bed nude with my 8-and-a-half inches of pulsating, purple steel sticking up in the air. The veins along the shaft throbbed with my heartbeat. I continued to stroke it slowly.

The scent of her bath oils and notions filled the room. She was naked, her pendulous breasts jutting forward capped with wide aureoles and long nipples. A narrow strip of fur ran down between the flare of her hips, pinkish labia hanging below. A drop of fluid hung off the tip of a clitoris emerging from its hood. She ran a hand down her stomach and made circular motions on her pussy.

“You’re still up,” she said, staring at my cock, fingering herself.

She stepped forward and leaned over me. Her face was inches from mine, her tits hovering tantalizingly close to the tip of my cock that was dribbling pre-come.

“Yeah,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Something on your mind?” she asked, running her fingers up the underside of my meat.

“Yeah, I was just wondering…” I started, then paused.

“Wondering what?”

“Wondering what, exactly, you meant when you said you would do anything to make me happy here.”

Her response was whispered, breathy, and hot on my cheek.

“I meant I’m yours. Every inch of me.”

Desire and lust raced through me. This was the moment every cell in my body had been screaming for since she walked out to the pool in that invisible swimsuit. I reached for her mommy tits, sucking, running my tongue around the aureoles, flicking it across the erect nipples. Beneath the smell of the bath oils was the faint odor of perfume. She moaned and closed her eyes as I buried my face in her cleavage, running my tongue up and down her breasts, pinching the nipples gently with my fingers. I spent several minutes working her chest over before I ran my hands down her stomach, past her landing strip, to her sopping pussy. I took her lobes in my fingers and gently tugged. She moaned again.