Treasure in the loft by Oldman1956

Treasure in the loft by Oldman1956

Uncover hidden desires with "Treasure in the Loft," a steamy adult sex story by Oldman1956. Dive into an erotic tale of passion and pleasure waiting to be discovered in the most unexpected places.<br/>

This is a true story ashamedly related to me by my Mum. I was born in 1956 and grew up in a very stable and loving environment with my Mum (32) and Dad (45), who were both devout Christians, and my elder sister Mary (3). We lived just outside central London in a 4 bed detached house.

My Dad had a well-paid job with the civil service and was also a keen gardener, amateur photographer and DIY’er. My Mum was a housewife who worked part time for ‘pin money’ and excelled in cooking and dressmaking. As kids we always had lots of pets – cats, dogs, rabbits etc.

Our idyllic life suddenly came to an abrupt end when I was 12 and my Dad suffered a stroke became and could no longer work. Subsequently my parents had to downsize and we moved into a much smaller 3 bed semi with a tiny garden. We had to give most of our pets away but we were allowed to keep our newly acquired 12 week old puppy ‘Blackie’ a black Labrador.

My Dad gradually recovered from his illness, though never fully, and was only able to do limited tasks. Over the months he did a lot of work on the house and tried to involve me, but at that age all I wanted to do was kick a ball around in the park or hang out with my mates. My Dad tragically died of a heart attack when I was 15.

Looking back now, I realize that 60 years was no life at all, although at the time he just seemed like an old man to me. I turned eighteen in 1974, met a girl, got her pregnant, got married and moved out. My sister eventually found her ideal job at an animal rescue sanctuary in Cornwall and moved there a few years later.

My spinster aunt, Anne, Mums elder sister moved in not long after. 15 years later (1989) Mum, now in her mid-60’s, decided she wanted to move down to Cornwall to be nearer my sister and asked if I’d come over at some time to clear the loft in preparation for the move. We fixed a date for the upcoming weekend and I arranged to borrow a mates van to make life easier.

I picked up the van Saturday morning and drove over to Mums around 10:30’ish. Apart from a bit of decorating I’d done over the years the house was basically how my Dad had left it. (The following dialogue is not word for word, but roughly what was said) Mum greeted me at the door.

“Hi Pete” she said, reaching up to kiss me on the cheek, “Thanks for doing this for me, there’s no way I could get in the loft. Fancy a cuppa before you start?” She made the tea and fetched a plate of biscuits.

“Any idea of what’s up there?” I asked. “I know your Dad sort of fixed it up to be a dark room when he was doing his photography.

But I only poked my head through the hatch once and there seems to be quite a bit up there.” I finished my tea and hunted round for the pole to unlatch the hatch and pulled the homemade loft ladder down. It was a bit on the flimsy side but it adequately took my weight as I ascended it.

I felt round for a light switch and found it just inside the loft opening. I don’t why I was so surprised, but when I turned it on the loft was illuminated in a red light making it look like an untidy whore’s bedroom. I went and got a 100watt light bulb and soon the loft was exposed in all its glory.

There wasn’t a great deal up there. The rafters had been partially boarded, enough to accommodate a homemade workbench with drawers and a chair. There were a few boxes to one side which I made a start on and carried down to the landing where Mum was waiting.

“What’s it like up there?” she enquired, “Bad is it?” “No it’s fine” I replied opening the first of the boxes.

“Ooo, they’re all yours and Mary’s old toys” she cooed. The other boxes contained old clothes, various ornaments that had gone out of fashion and basically junk. Mum sorted through the bits she wanted to keep and I loaded the rest into the van.

On the next trip I brought down the contents of the work top which was all photography equipment. Trays, bottles of fixing fluids, various other bits that I had no idea of what they were, and finally what I thought might be a photo enlarger. Mum said she had no interest in any of it and that I could keep it or chuck it.

I decided to bin it and carried it all down to the van. “Were getting there slowly” I said as I went back up. I opened the first of the three drawers.

It was full of maybe 200 black and white photos. At first glance they appeared to be mostly of our family or building, flowers, sunsets and landscapes etc, and I carried it down. “They look interesting” said Mum, reaching for the photos.

“Put the kettle on Mum and we’ll go through them.” I said. I took the drawer down to the living room and waited for Mum.

When she arrived with the tea we spent the next hour or so reminiscing over the treasure trove of old photos that neither of us had ever seen before. “Back to work” I said, “Just a couple more drawers, a chair and the workbench to break down. It shouldn’t take long.

” The next drawer contained Dad’s old Kodak camera and a couple of empty photo albums which Mum decided to keep. The bottom drawer was empty. I returned with a hammer and screwdriver to dismantle the workbench and discovered that after the bottom drawer had been removed it revealed a void underneath containing a fairly thick brown envelope.

Intrigued, I emptied the contents onto the work top. “Fuck me” I thought. There had to be over twenty B&W photos of a woman being licked or fucked by a black dog.

Unfortunately none of them showed her face though. That is until I got down to the last one which was a shot of the woman looking back over her shoulder with her face plastered with cum. It was only then that I realized it was my Mum in the photos.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My Mum was a very prim and proper lady and I’d always believed that being a Christian that she was a prude. In fact thinking about it I’d never even heard her swear.

I’d never thought of my Mum sexually before and had certainly never seen her naked. But seeing her in these pictures I realized what a beautiful woman she had been. I pulled up the chair and spread out the photos on the work top, sat down, got my cock out and started masturbating.

I was so preoccupied that I hadn’t heard Mum call up to see if everything was o.k.?

and I was absolutely mortified when her head appeared the loft opening and shrieked “Peter, what in hells name do you think you’re doing?” “I’m so sorry Mum” I blurted out, quickly shielding myself from her and trying to get my rapidly shrinking cock back inside my jeans. “Peter you’d better come down now, you’ve got some explaining to do.

” She said sternly. I knew I was really in trouble as she only ever called me Peter and not Pete when I’d done something wrong. It felt like I was a misbehaved child again.

I snatched up the photos and put them in my back pocket, thinking that these were definitely going home with me. Mum was waiting for me in the living room, arms folded across her chest and her left foot tapping on the carpet. “Well Peter, explain yourself.

” For such a diminutive woman, she was only just over five feet tall, she still had the ability to strike the fear of god in me. “I’m sorry Mum” was all I could say hoping she would accept my apology and just drop it. But she wouldn’t.

“I shouldn’t have to witness that behaviour in my own home. What sort of pervert are you that you’d let your own Mother see you doing that? And at your age” “I’m sorry Mum.

” I replied. While all the time thinking please please stop. “You’ve really embarrassed me” she continued, her voice shifting up a pitch.

“I should’ve named you Peter the pervert. That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” I’m not sure how I got the courage to answer her back.

I think something inside just snapped and I said “Are you sure Mother?” “How dare you talk back to me?” she yelled, “I ought to take my hand to you.

” As kids both Mary and I had felt the sting of Mum’s hand on the back of our legs, and that had always been enough for us not to repeat what we had been punished for. “Before you do that” I replied, now full of bravado. “You might have some explaining to do yourself.

” “What the hell are you babbling on about?” I’d never in a million years do anything to hurt my Mum and I didn’t want to hurt her then when I pulled the photos out of my back pocket and handed them to her. “You might want to see these” I said in a calm voice.

“Before you start casting aspersions.” I thought Mum was going to faint when she went all white and I had to help her sit down before she fell over. “Where did you get these?

” she asked meekly as she started to cry. “They were hidden upstairs in the loft.” “Your Dad told me the camera didn’t have any film in it.

” she said between sobs. “I didn’t know they even existed. Oh Pete, what must you think of me?

” Back to calling me Pete, that’s a good sign, I thought. “I think you know what I think of you by what I was doing in the loft.” “But I’m your Mother Pete.

” “You may be my Mother but you’re also an attractive woman. And that you were having sex with a dog was so erotic.” “You’re so much like your Dad.

” She said wiping her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t think badly of me?” “I love you so much Mum, and admire you even more.

You said I was like Dad, was it him that made you do it? I mean, what I’m curious to know is how it all started?” “Well seeing that you’ve already seen the evidence, and there’s no point in my denying it actually happened, I suppose I could tell you the whole story.

BUT…. This stays between you and me, right?” I readily nodded my agreement and asked if I should put the kettle on.

“I think something stronger might be called for, there’s a bottle of brandy and some glasses in the cabinet, be a dear Pete and do the honours.” I poured two glasses and sat at the other end of the settee facing Mum waiting in anticipation for her to begin. Taking a fairly big swallow of brandy, possibly for Dutch courage, she looked me in the eyes and said “Here goes.

” “I think I’d just turned 46. I remember it was after your Dad first got ill and we’d moved here. You and Mary were still attending school.