Grabbing them I ran to the bottom of the stairs.
She was standing naked at the top. Christ she looked sensational in the light from below. She smiled and held her hands out from her body with her palms facing to me as if saying, “you like?” Her big black nipples and thick bush of pubic hair stood out in the half light.
For the second time tonight an involuntary, “fuck!!” escaped my lips, but she was too far away to hear, thankfully.
I started to climb the stairs, but she shook her head, gave me a firm, “NO,” before gliding silently to the door of their room, pausing only to look at me briefly, before closing it a few seconds before I arrived.
I put my mouth against the door, I knew she was leaning against it and could hear me as I whispered, “please open the door Mum, please open the door for me.”
There was silence.
I asked her again to open the door, but there was still no response, the only sound was that of my father snoring. It was obvious that our night was over and that I’d no options other than to lock up and go to bed, unfortunately alone. Going back down stairs, and standing there my mind in a whirl, I looked forlornly at her clothes in my hand, before eventually turning off the lights and climbing the stairs again.
Stopping silently at their door and listening intently, I was soon able to hear those unmistakable sounds of sex. To stand there and have to listen to Dad taking her brought tears to my eyes. It hurt me to think that after the night we’d just had, to be as we’d been, to have Mum give me access to her breasts as she had. And when she’d been home less than five minutes, she could be in bed with Dad screwing her.
Yes screwing her, because that was all that he did, just stick his dick into her, dump his load, turn over and go to sleep. No one could think of that as love making. The fact that I thought that I heard her come for him, was totally down to her being always ready, it’d nothing at all to do with him, or indeed love.
It was now clear, that the role that I played in her life was as a warm up man, getting her ready for him, I was the foreplay that she desperately needed, and he wouldn’t, or couldn’t be bothered giving to her.
I put her clothes on the floor, got undressed, and then standing in the passage with my back against the opposite wall, I masturbated, firing my seed across the hall, hitting the door, and leaving a snails trail from it to me. There was no love from me to her in that, in fact my feelings were as far from love as I could get.
When I got to my room my legs were shaking, and I was really angry, I felt such a fool, I’d held her hand, I’d kissed her and held her in my arms, so that all she’d got from me was affection. I’d given her a whole evening of true love.
And what was my reward? Absolutely nothing at all, perhaps you might regard removing her bra and letting me touch her breasts as a reward, but you’d be more realistic if you accepted, that this was just a way for her to become more aroused for my father to get the benefit of. The only person who’d got rewarded was Dad, the man who was totally ignoring her emotional needs, he was just, not to put too fine a point on it, simply fucking her.
Sitting there too emotional to go to sleep, I examined her clothing, sinking my nose into the back of her dress were she’d sat down. Her scent was so strong, had she been so stimulated that she’d left the dress for me, knowing that I’d do this, and know how turned on she was? If there were any doubts about her state of arousal her briefs dispelled it, with the thick coating of slime lying there. I ran my finger through it, it attached itself to me like glue, to leave this for me to find was like sticking a knife into my gut, it let me know just how turned on she was, and what it was that I’d missed out on.
Unable to help myself, I greedily licked it off my finger, replaced it with more, licked that off also, only to repeat the exercise for a third time. Before then burying my nose as deeply into her briefs as I could, breathing in her overpoweringly, heady aroma. Her deposit stuck to my face and hands.
Standing there naked with her underwear in my hand, and an erection, it was inevitable that I was going to fire off another load, which I did, to be honest more in anger than lust, choosing to use one of the cups of her bra. I didn’t use her briefs as you can only do that once, and then all they smell of is you, they then become worthless for my purpose.
Just as on Saturday night after the party, I couldn’t sleep, I kept running over the evening in my mind, and so at just after twelve thirty, I fired another load of my best issue into the second bra cup, again as much in anger as anything else. It never occurred to me that she hadn’t expected me to use her underwear for this, what else could she have had in mind, but was this my consolation prize?
Somewhere after that point, I resolved that if I was the one getting my Mother hot, then I needed to get some reward for effort. That I’d put aside my anger, and set about the process of having her, and damn the consequences.
The next morning, I of course woke up with an erection and this time her briefs were the recipient of that load. In the shower I said to myself, “For a young man who has a red hot forty six year old women, who’s husband’s out of the country, and is hot to trot, you’re jerking off far too much. You need to go and see Jane real soon.” I resolved to call her later that day.
It was hard to get a moment alone with Mum when we were having breakfast, as we were all running around with the organised confusion that was our normal morning rush. Dad also always seemed to be in the way, so other than a few moments of eye contact, and a couple of grins, we were unable to really communicate. Except when she said in an aside, “did you like your present?”
“I’d have liked it better if you hadn’t gone and closed the door.”
She didn’t notice that there was sharpness in my voice.
“Just can’t happen,” she said shaking her head, and as she filled up with tears, her voice dropped down very low, “you know, THAT, just cannot happen.”
“Mum, we both want it.”
“No, I don’t, no it just can’t,” and as she walked away, turned back to look at me from about ten feet away, “you know that it just can’t, don’t you?”
I nodded, mouthing, “yes it can,” but before I could pursue the matter further, she’d left to go to work. I’d consciously decided to ignore my anger, and keep on with my attempts to make sure that, THAT, did happen. Prior to the last weekend, I would have laughed if anyone had told me that I’d have set my sights on my own mother, but here I was with her dominating my entire time and thoughts.
Talking aloud to myself I said, “The good news is, as least I’m getting her sexy, all that I have to do is find a way to replace my father between her legs.” As soon as those words left my mouth, I regretted them, it was very uncouth, the sort of thing that my Father himself would’ve said. As my mother, she deserved better than that from me. But what it did do, was to show me that the hurt I felt by her having sex with Dad after we’d been together as we had, was very real, and still in me.
What hurt the most was that I’d committed to her more quickly than I would normally have done with a new woman. I’d committed to her totally, and of course forgotten the small matter of her having a husband, who coincidently was my father. No matter how much better our kissing was, no matter how horny she got with me, she was still my Fathers wife.
During the day I got a call from Jane, wanting to know why I hadn’t been around to see her. I told her that there was a bit on at work, but that I was going to call on the way home. The best thing about an older married woman was that there was no beating around the bush, no bullshit, it was straight to the point, and the point was…sex.
I called Jane first and then left work at two p.m. telling the boss that I had to buy a birthday present for my niece, and had some other stuff to take care of. He was cool with that as he knew that I’d make up the time without him having to worry too much about it. As long as the job got done, he didn’t worry about too much.
I went straight to Jane’s house, knocked on the door which opened immediately, but there was no one there. This was common practice, I walked in, the door shut behind me, and there standing behind it wearing nothing but a smile, was Jane.
We kissed each other from one end of our bodies to the other over the next two and a half hours. The sex, as usual, was outstanding, and again as usual, when I left her we were both wrecked, but something this time was different, something was not quite right.
I’d kept thinking of Mum all of the time that I’d been with Jane, I was still angry at her for screwing Dad, and used that to justify my being there with Jane, when I was showing signs of having feelings about my Mother. As I drove home, I couldn’t get Mum out of my mind, I felt as though I’d been unfaithful to her.
The more I thought about it of course, the more that I realised, and had to accept as fact, that she was married to Dad. And as such they had every right to screw each other stupid every night if they wanted to, and if the sex wasn’t as good as she wanted, that was then her problem.
Anyway she seemed to have put up with it for a few years now, and was quite used to letting him do her, and then flying sole afterwards. It seemed so very wrong that when Mum was as hot as she was, she was still happy to accept second best from him. What I couldn’t and wouldn’t accept was that I’d been the one who got her horny for him, and he’d got the benefit of that, not me.
That night Mum and I were able to speak more as I helped with the dishes; she looked over her shoulder at Dad in the lounge room saying, “can I have my dress back please?”
“Of course…eventually.”
“Did you wear it?”
“No, that thought never even entered my head.”
“Can I have my underwear back too?” This, with a twinkle in her eyes.
“But do you really want them back?” I returned the twinkle.
Leave a Reply