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From: John Jabbin <jjabbin@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Repost: Mum and Me 1-3  {John Jabbin} {mF Inc Mdom}
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2001 06:10:04 -0500
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Mum and Me {John Jabbin} {mF Inc Mdom}
jjabbin@yahoo.com
Other stories at: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jabbin/


I'm reposting Parts One - Three of this series because 
it's been a bit since I had a chance to update it. I
apologize to my long-suffering readers but my personal
and work life has been a bit hectic these last few weeks. 
I do intend to finish this series very shortly, although 
I'm also doing my best not to rush the slow seduction 
that I had originally planned between these two.

Feedback is the only price that most authors that post 
to ASSM ask. If you want to read more, you ought to 
pay the price by letting me know you liked this 
perverse tale. Writers need feedback in order to 
become better writers. If you don't let us know what 
you like, don't complain that there are no good 
stories. Any comments, bad or good, are welcome. Write 
me at the e-mail address above.

If you're a minor, don't read this. If it's illegal in 
your country to be in possession of stories about sex, 
please destroy all copies of this work. Practice safe 
sex reading please.



Mum and Me - Part One
by John Jabbin


I began to actively think about taking my mother when 
I was fifteen years old. I was a horny bugger at that 
age, just like every boy, but unlike other chaps my 
age, my thoughts turned to dominating submissive 
girls. I had cornered some of the neighborhood sluts 
for quick little trysts, fingering their juicy cunts 
and forcing them on their knees to suck my dick, but 
my mind always turned to my need for a regular supply 
of steady pussy. That's really what a growing 
perverted boy like me needed.

So early one Saturday morning, after spending some 
time thinking about this persistent dilemma, I went 
downstairs to break my fast and decide what 
deviousness I could do all day.

Mum had me a nice plate of goodies and I sat to eat my 
sausage and toast and all the while I did she washed 
and cleaned about the kitchen. She was wearing a full-
length satin nightgown that was anything but 
provocative to all but the horniest of teenagers, 
which I just so happen to be. As I sat and ate, 
contemplating my constant need for sexual attention, 
her ass swayed gently back and forth, going about her 
household duties. It was like waving a red flag at a 
bull.

Until eventually it dawn on even my thick skull, why 
am I thinking so hard about how to get fresh cunt away 
from home, when there's a perfectly good cunt right 
here being unused? Mum hadn't had a man about the 
house since Dad buggered off five or six years ago. 
I'm sure she had to be nice and horny herself by now, 
even though she never invited any beau to share her 
bed. She wasn't a bad looking slice of pie, either. It 
was a shame to let her best years go to waste. I'd 
really be doing her a favor by becoming her steady 
supply of cock.

And Mum was a submissive little gal, too. She never 
gave me orders anymore. We had an easy style between 
us since I liked things nice and neat. I wasn't yet 
out hanging with the chaps each night since they all 
had to be in bed at certain times. Occasionally I was 
out late sniffing at some cunt, but at my age they all 
had to be in even earlier than the boys. So there was 
never much friction around our flat.

She had done the very best she could since Dad bugged 
out. She made a decent wage and dawdled over me as 
much as I allowed. Even so, there was always a tinge 
of sadness to her life. Mum was lonely, of that I was 
sure.

So wasn't it about time, as the only man in her life, 
to put an end to that? I was really just doing my duty 
to dear old Mum, when I thought about it that way. 
Plus, it'd be nice to have a steady flow of snatch 
about the house.

So, walking up behind her at the sink, I put my arms 
about her waist and hugged her short little body back 
against me.

"So, what's my favorite girl to do today? Any wild 
exciting things on tap?"

"Nothing but the regular weekend chores. Why? You have 
something you need to run and do?"

"Oh, I don't know," I whispered with my chin on her 
shoulder near her ear. "I was thinking I need to spend 
more time with you. We haven't done anything fun in 
quite some time. Isn't there anything wild you'd like 
to do, Mum?

"Middle aged mothers don't do wild things, luv. 
There's too much work to be done for that."

"But just this once, Mum, let's do something fun 
together. I want to see you let your hair down a bit."

Whether she could feel my boner pressing into her 
arse, I don't know. The nightgown wasn't all that 
thick I could tell from my hands at her waist. Still, 
I wasn't exactly grinding it into her ... yet!

"Well, I do have to buy myself another dress for work. 
I had one go completely out on me this week and I have 
to bite the bullet and get another. We could go 
shopping together if that's your idea of fun."

"I don't know, Mum. That's almost too much excitement 
than I could stand. I'm only fifteen. Do they allow 
sons my age into the bawdier dress shops?

"Don't be silly, boy. I have to buy my dresses off the 
rack at a department store. I can't afford dress shop 
dresses on our budget."

"Well that's a shame, Mum, because you deserve to be 
all styled up if anybody does. Maybe I will go with 
you just to help you pick out something flashy that 
all the men would love."

"You're welcome to come, John, but I won't be buying 
anything 'flashy' for my work. I just need a nice, 
sensible frock."

"Let's go then," I said, giving Mum a swat on her bum.
"And don't forget to wear clean knickers like you're 
always telling me."

Mum threw me a puzzled look over her shoulder, but 
scuttled off to her bedroom to change, apparently 
happy with a little male attention for a change.

All during the trip to the store I bantered with her 
back and forth, schmoozing my Mum just like I might a 
fresh bird off the street. As we went along, she got 
more and more gay, enjoying herself and our 
companionship. I thought to myself again how lonely 
she must be that just a little more attention from her 
boy could make her feel so nice.

Now women's fashion at a department store is a 
fascinating place for a fifteen-year-old boy. Ladies 
garments and underwear as far as the eye could see. 
And tagging along with my mum, I actually had the 
right to touch and feel everything we passed. I 
quickly decided that this wasn't half bad, being with 
a crowd of women as they thought about changing 
clothes and what they would wear.

For the most part, I was ignored. Seeing I was 
attended to by one of their own, most of the ladies 
let me be. One big arsed flirt actually held up a 
dress before her massive bosoms and glanced at me to 
ask my opinion. When I held my nose to show my 
disapproval of the dreadful frock, she laughed and put 
it back and continued shopping.

But when I wasn't flirting with tarty old whores, I 
was concentrating on finding Mum something sharp to 
wear. She was picking out a dumpy old dress, but I was 
able to see what sizes she wore from the things that 
she considered.

She went to try a few things on and while she was 
gone, I looked on a few of the nicer racks. I found a 
red sexy number that was a bit lower cut in the front 
and a little tighter around the hips than she would 
normally wear. Still, it was in her size and not much 
more than the three she had picked out for herself.

She came back out, shaking her head.

"I 'm just not sure. Which one of these two do you 
like best, John?" she said, holding up the two least 
hideous of her three.

"I like this one," I countered, holding up the red one 
I'd picked out.

"What have you got here?" she questioned looking at 
the size and style and finally checking out the price. 
"That's nice, dear, but not practical and way too 
expensive."

"Come on now, Mum. I've come all this way, at least 
try on the one I've picked for you before you toss it 
aside. If you like it, I promise to not eat anything 
more until we've saved enough to pay for it. Just try 
it on and see if we both like it."

I bullied her until she had agreed and tried to wait 
patiently until she finished.

When she did come out, I was quite pleased. It wasn't 
the sexiest dress in the world, but it was a damn 
sight better than her other two and better still than 
anything in her wardrobe. As she stood in front of the 
looking glass, I took a fresh appraising gander at my 
gal.

Mum was a short, strawberry blonde that was just now 
going from slender to pleasingly curvaceous. She was 
fine the way she was, but in a few more years at this 
rate she'd be just short and dumpy. Like most lonely 
folks, she ate too much and didn't get enough 
exercise. Mum was letting herself go through 
inattention. Lucky for her, she had a son that was 
ready to address the situation.

"Now that's a better look," I said glowingly coming up 
behind her. Putting my hands possessively on her hips 
and turning her a little this way and that, I said, 
"Now the men at work and on the way will sit up and 
take notice of a lady in a dress like that. But see 
here, it's still very professional. It's a very sexy 
look without crossing the line into being a tart."

"Jonathan!" Mother remonstrated me, though she never 
took her eyes off her figure in the glass. "It's nice, 
but I just think it's a bit much."

"Oh come on, Mum! It's perfect is what it is. Please, 
you have to get it, if nothing else as a favor to me."

"It's just too ... provocative," she finally 
intimated, her hands fluttering around her neckline 
and bosom.

Reaching over her shoulder, I spread the collar to 
show even a bit more skin and whispered in her ear, 
"That provocative look is what I like about it. I have 
a sexy young Mum and I want everyone to know it."

"Jonathan!" Mum embarrassingly looked around to see 
if anyone could have heard me. But, the really telling 
thing was that, not seeing anyone, she pushed back 
against me ever so softly. If I hadn't been trying to 
anticipate her reaction, I would have missed it 
altogether.

That's the sign that confirmed to me that my mother 
would eventually be willing. The sweet pressure as she 
leaned against me told me that all I had to do was be 
patient with her.

"Buy the dress, Mum," I whispered seductively in her 
ear. "Make your man very happy."

"My man?" she repeated, her eyes widening as she 
stared at our reflection in the glass.

"Why sure, Mum. Except when you start wearing a sexy 
frock like that they'll be plenty of blokes want to 
take you off my hands. But until they do, you'll be my 
gal. Won't you, dear? And I'd really love my gal to 
buy herself this frock."

"Well, if a simple dress can make a young man go daft 
over his old mum, maybe it has some promise. I guess I 
can stretch our budget just a little."

"Great, Mum! Now let's get you changed and let's go 
home. I can't wait to be off with my gal."

Mum quickly changed and paid for her new red frock 
with only a minimum of grumbling over the cost. We 
rushed home like two teenagers on the flirt and for at 
least half of us it was true. The other half only felt 
that way for the first time in a while.

It was getting well past noon and we were both hungry 
again, so I offered to help Mum make us a little meal 
together in the kitchen. We both decided on something 
light, just a bit of soup and salad, so as I got the 
salads ready, she fixed up the other.

Before we started, Mum had changed into a pair of 
almost knee length shorts and a light yellow button 
down blouse. I was a little disappointed that she 
hadn't worn the dress, but it was a bit much to think 
of us piddling around the kitchen in her sexy new 
frock. There'd be time enough for that very soon. 
Besides, the yellow blouse had possibilities if she 
had only not worn her standard issue brassiere. The 
top was so light and thin that it would be quite 
interesting if I could only talk her out of the 
undergarment.

"You look all nice and comfy," I told her while coming 
up and cuddling her from behind. "But I would have 
thought you'd want to be a bit more comfortable on 
your days off."

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"You look lovely, don't get me wrong, I'd just think 
you'd be more at ease if you didn't have to be all 
trussed up around the flat," I explained while 
reaching up and giving her brassiere a little pop by 
pulling it away from the back.

"Oh my, John! In this thin top? I'm sure you wouldn't 
want to see your old mum parade herself around like 
that."

"I'm sure I wouldn't mind at all, since even though 
you are my mum you're not THAT old. But no matter 
what, I'd be willing to do a bit of suffering for your 
comfort, 'old mum!'"

"I might not mind being a bit more comfortable if I 
thought you would behave and not be gawking at me. But 
for all that you like to act so grown up, Jonathan, 
you're still just fifteen years old."

"So how am I suppose to act more mature if you never 
give me the chance. Relax yourself and see that I 
won't be gawking at you. Well, not much anyway. No 
more than any man of any age might notice a beautiful 
woman about the house."

"Oh my, but you're laying it on thick today!"

"And well I should. I've only got one, Old Mum, and I 
haven't been paying her enough attention as of late. 
I'm out to rectify that. Do you mind a little more 
attention from your son?"

"No, I can't say that I mind it, son. You're growing 
up to be a handsome lad and you've certainly got a 
tongue of gold in your sweet mouth. There's not many 
girls who'll be turning away your attentions either 
now or in the future. Even so, we have to keep a bit 
of perspective here, you know."

"That's all I'm trying to do by getting you to loosen 
up a bit, luv. Just trying to get a little 
'perspective.'"

"See, there's that cheeky 'tongue of gold,' I meant."

We both went back to fixing foods and soon we were 
nearing being done together. As we set the plates and 
food on the table, Mum excused herself and I finished 
up with drinks and such. When she came back and set 
herself down, much to the delight of my wandering eye, 
she had left her brassiere behind.

As we had agreed, I didn't say a word about the 
transformation, though I certainly stole a few 
glimpses to appreciate the view.

Mum's breasts were well bigger than a handful and even 
though there was a touch of sag, they still were 
lovely to behold. In particular, her nipples seemed 
big and lovely and every time she caught me glimpsing 
they seemed to get a little bigger.

We ate our meal and chatted about this and that. 
Mostly I was respectable and looked her in the eye. 
Every now and then, and mostly uncontrollably, they 
slipped a little lower.

Still in all, I could tell that Mum was almost 
beginning to regret her bravery. And, there was the 
fact that I didn't want to seem as eager as I was. So 
I told Mum there was a bit of running round in the 
neighborhood I needed to do and wondered if she could 
fend for herself for the afternoon.

Just like a silly girl, she went immediately from 
being worried that I was giving her too much attention 
to being worried that I hadn't given her yet enough. 
She got a disappointed look to her face, but try as 
she could, she couldn't think of any reason for me to 
stay.

So I finished up my food and excused myself and bent 
down to give the old girl a peck on the head before I 
left.

As I did, I wrapped my mitts around in front and, 
hefting mother's charming tits in either hand, gave 
both warm nipples a gentle squeeze.

As she gasped in shock, I whispered in her ear, "And 
thanks for the lovely perspective on these beauties!"

As I scrambled out the door, she had just gathered 
herself to begin shouting. Still in all, I'll always 
remember the warm flush that went over her and the way 
her nipples hardened wonderfully in my hands.





Part Two



I slipped back in the house around dark, all nice and 
quiet. I figured that any spat that Mum might feel for 
me touching up her knockers would be done by then. But, 
I had given a lot of thought to her and me as I 
patrolled the neighborhood and talked to my chaps and 
chickies. 

In fact, I found myself thinking of little else than 
Mum's luscious knobs and how good they had felt in my 
hands. But as I talked to the little sluts in the 
neighborhood that I was used to flirting with, I 
realized that taking this same approach with Mum 
wouldn't likely be successful. After all, Mum wasn't 
some local tart that might be talked into a quick jump 
if she was in the right mood.

The more I thought about it the more I realized that 
I'd have to take it slow and easy with her. After all, 
I didn't want to scare her off with some silly grab at 
her arse that would ruin things for the long haul. 
There was probably a lot about gaining the affections 
of an older woman that I didn't yet know about, being 
only fifteen. The more I thought about it long and 
hard, the more I realized I'd have to be patient with 
Mum and bring her round slowly. 

Unless of course she wanted to jump me as soon as I 
walked in the door.

Unfortunately for me, Mum wasn't standing naked at the 
door when I got home. Then again, I hadn't really 
expected her to be. But the thought did cross my mind 
of how lovely that would be!

Mum was in the sitting room, reading a book. She never 
was the type to sit and watch the tele absentmindedly, 
but I'd often find her crawled up with a steamy romance 
novel. She was sitting on the divan, with her legs 
tucked up beside her. Best of all, she was still 
dressed in the yellow blouse with the knee length black 
shorts, but from the way she was sitting, there wasn't 
anything yet to see.

"We need to talk, young man," Mum said in her most 
solemn voice.

I was expecting this, so even though I took her concern 
seriously, I wasn't too worried.

"I know we do, Mum," I said, taking a place beside her 
on the divan. "Mind if I go first?"

When she gave me a little nod, I started in with all 
I'd thought about to say.

"I just wanted to apologize for getting all grabby on 
you before. It wasn't a very nice thing to do, 
especially since you'd been so agreeable to me today 
and took me shopping with you and even bought the dress 
I'd ask you to. So I'd just like to say how sorry I am, 
Mum, and that I won't be doing that again too soon."

"Well, all right then," she said all relieved. "I'm 
glad we won't be having any more of that."

"I'd like to make it up to you, if I could. Is there 
anything you need? Anything I can do for you?"

"Not at the moment, luv, but if you'd like to keep me 
company a while, that would be nice."

"I'll tell you what I'd like to do, Mum. How about 
giving me your feet and I'll give them a nice rub while 
you read your book?" 

She put up a bit of resistance at first thinking no 
young man would want to be rub her feet, but eventually 
I was able to talk her into letting me do it. Mum 
leaned back with her feet straight out on the divan and 
returned to reading her book. I put her feet in my lap 
and began to rub them.

Now I had never really paid much attention to ladies' 
feet, but I had noticed that by the end of the day 
Mum's feet sometimes hurt her. Especially if she had a 
hard day at work or if she had been wearing heels, she 
would be very tender-footed around the house in the 
evening. The first thing she often did once home was to 
kick off her shoes at the doorway. 

My thought was, if Mum didn't want me grabbing any 
other part of her, I'd start with whatever part I could 
lay my hands on.

 From the very beginning this new tact seemed a great 
success. I propped both feet along my thighs and rubbed 
them softly with my hands, being careful not to tickle 
her toes. I started hearing moans and thank you's right 
away. Maybe they weren't the sort of moans a horny 
young man really wants to hear, but there was something 
wonderful about making Mum moan at all that made me 
feel warm all over.

So I started really enjoying this, too. I kicked my own 
shoes off and let her lay out nice and easy with her 
feet resting in my lap. I took one foot up at a time 
and inspected it. 

Now I don't know anything about ladies' feet, but I 
could tell that Mum's were in terrible shape.  There 
was dry skin and calluses around the outside near her 
toes and especially along her heels. I suppose the best 
place to start in getting dear old Mum in shape was at 
the bottom, with her feet.

I excused myself a moment and came back with some skin 
lotion and began to rub a generous amount on her right 
foot, concentrating on the portions of dry skin at her 
heels and along her toes. Mum practically began to purr 
and I soothed her feet, running the slick, creamy 
lotion over her arches and on her soles and starting to 
work it into her most dry and tender places. 

"That feels heavenly, John," Mum murmured softly. "You 
really don't mind rubbing my feet?"

"Not at all, Mum. It's sort of fun, seeing a part of 
you up close I'd never given much thought to before."

She began wiggling her toes and stretching the ankles, 
moving both feet at a time. Now, for the one in both my 
hands, that really wasn't a problem. I was holding it 
up and using my thumbs to make deep soothing circles on 
the soles and to rub the thicker pads around her heel. 

But the foot that was in my lap was another matter. It 
wasn't so much that anything of hers was really 
touching anything of mine other than my leg, but Mum's 
foot was so close to my prick that it was maddening. 
Almost at once, as soon as she started wiggling her 
toes around, I got an instant and enormous erection.

The more I rubbed, the more Mum's other foot wiggled 
and the harder I got. Then I had a wonderfully wicked 
idea. Picking up her left foot, I set the right foot 
that I had been rubbing directly down on my fat 
erection.

Mum froze and I felt her get very rigid. I just started 
rubbing the left foot and slathering on the lotion to 
it as though nothing was about. Even so, even though I 
was trying to ignore it completely, the weight of Mum's 
foot on my chubbie felt remarkably good.

Mum set her book aside and watched me massaging her 
foot. At least, that's what she was pretending to do, 
just like I was pretending to be rubbing her left foot. 
In reality, we both were concentrating on her naked 
little foot that was lying on top of my hard prick.

Still she hadn't moved it. It was maddening how she 
left it there so motionless, the warm sole of her foot 
pressed the entire length of my prick. I wanted to grab 
hold and rub myself with it, wanted to thrust my cock 
against it until I added my own special lotion between 
her toes.

But I didn't do that. I wanted to wait Mum out, to see 
what she would do. What I did do though was to get a 
gander at her rocky hard nipples, though.

Now that she had laid her book aside, they were there 
in all their glory, shining like two beacons on a dark 
night: Mum's flinty-hard nipples. I'd never seen a more 
lovely sight! I had felt up every girl in the 
neighborhood that would allow it, but I had never seen 
two hard nubbins press against a shirt so 
distinctively.

"So, Mum, do you like having your feet rubbed?" I 
asked, just to get her talking. The answer was obvious 
in her quickened breathing and the flush upon her face.

"Yes, dear. It feels very nice to have them done."

"It looks like you need to have them taken care of 
often. Would you like me to do this for you every 
night?"

Maybe it was just my imagination. Or maybe just my 
fondest wish. In any case, I thought I felt just a 
little extra pressure from Mum's foot against me, 
pressing down, rubbing her foot along my prick so 
gradually that it might have been missed otherwise.

"You actually like rubbing my feet, John?" Mum almost 
whispered as though half-afraid I might say, 'no.'

"Why sure, Mum. You have sexy feet."

Again, the slightest extra pressure when I said that 
'sexy' word. It even felt involuntary, as though Mum's 
foot had a mind of it's own and that mind was filled 
with thoughts of my hard cock.

"Don't be daft, John. I'm sure there's nothing about my 
feet that's sexy."

"Maybe not to you, but they are to me."

If she'd only rub me harder, I'd show her just how sexy 
I thought they were, I thought. Please Mum, rub your 
boy a little harder with your sexy toes.

"Why in the world would my feet be sexy to you? They're 
just feet, and not particularly attractive ones."

"I'll grant you that they could use some attention, 
Mum. I'll be sure and take good care of them from now 
on. But, I wouldn't say they're not attractive. You've 
got nice small feet and I certainly like your toes."

I felt a definite nudge that time. Mum pretended that 
she was stretching a bit, and perhaps she was. She'd 
been sitting very still for quite some time. Even so, 
when she scooted over just a bit, her foot definitely 
gave my stiff prick an extra rub.

Mum's tits were really pointy now. And all along the 
outside, I could see a fainter, lighter ring. Just 
looking at her meaty nipples made me hungry.

"Would you like your calves massaged a bit, Mum?"

"Yes, John, please do."

I picked up Mum's right foot, the one that had been 
resting on my cock and held her two pretty feet 
together. Then, very carefully, I set them both down 
together on either side of my stiff prick, with the 
effect of nuzzling it between them.

Then, stretching forward, I began to slide my hands 
down the undersides of Mum's bare legs, massaging the 
muscles of her lower calves. Of course, this had the 
effect of rocking Mum's feet back and forth 
rhythmically on my lap.

Oh god, that really felt good along my soft trousers. 
Sure, everything was covered and hidden, but the 
friction was divine. Mum even curled her toes and 
arched her ankles a tad straighter to fit around me 
more snugly.

"We really shouldn't do this, John," Mum whispered 
throatily. 

I thought she'd back away. I was looking her straight 
in the eyes. They were like warm pools soaking in our 
naughty action. I held her legs firmly with the thought 
of preventing her escaping. Even so, she made no effort 
to withdraw her feet.

"Shouldn't do what, Mum? I shouldn't rub your feet and 
calves?"

"No, son. That's not what I mean."

I kept rubbing Mum's calves and my erection with her 
feet at the same time. It wasn't a lot of stimulation 
on my prick, not nearly as much as I use on myself, but 
it was such a vulgar thing to do that I was getting 
more and more excited all the time.

"What do you mean then, Mum? That's really all that's 
happening here."

Then a really wonderful thing began to happen. Mum lay 
back again and closed her eyes and started actually 
flexing her feet around me gently. She was bending her 
knees slightly and then straightening them out, with 
the effect of drawing those gorgeous feet ever so 
slightly against my hard slab of cock between her toes.

"Yes, son. That's all that's happening. Rub my feet, 
John. It feels so lovely."

"Oh yes, Mum, really lovely!"

Harder and harder I rubbed Mum's calves and Mum's feet 
rubbed my cock. Then the pretext of the leg rub was 
momentarily abandoned. Now she was more actively 
rubbing me off with her feet. I leaned back more and 
more until I was gripping just the tops in my hand and 
was for all extent and purposes jacking my cock off on 
her feet.

Back and forth I rubbed, it felt amazing. From heel to 
toe I rubbed, it felt glorious. I could see Mum's hard 
nipples jiggling now, rubbing the insides of that 
yellow blouse. I longed to suck them into my mouth and 
nip the tips gently with my teeth. I longed to spread 
these pretty legs and crawl up and lick Mum's splendid 
cunt.

Just thinking about Mum's cunt got me that much closer. 
She was licking her lips and we were both breathing 
faster. Sliding down even further, I gripped her arches 
and thrust my pelvis up and began to shoot great globs 
of hot, sticky cum into my trousers.

Oh god, if it felt this grand still dressed up I don't 
know if I could stand it in her cunny. Her toes and the 
balls of her feet urged me on. As they began to press 
into the ever-expanding patch of wetness, she began to 
wiggle her toes more, causing more grunts and 
convulsions from her son.

When I had shot all I could, I held Mum's feet still on 
me. As I leaned back to catch my breath, Mum slowly 
pulled her feet back further on the divan and off my 
lap.

When I had recovered somewhat, I tried to catch her 
eye, but I could tell that what we had done embarrassed 
Mum tremendously.

"Maybe you better go get cleaned up for dinner, John," 
she said without looking at me, picking up her book and 
pretending to get back to reading it. "It's been a long 
day. Why don't you go take a shower?"

"You're right, Mum. It's been a hard day, but a very 
good one."

As I rose and began to walk upstairs, I turned to see 
Mum curled up on the divan. She looked to be reading 
her book as though nothing had happened. I would have 
almost thought it so, except to see one hand gently 
squeezing compulsively on her nipples. 



Part Three



Mum was feeling very bad about what we had done on the 
divan. I think she blamed herself more than me, but she 
didn't want to have too much to do with me either.

"Is everything okay, Mum?" I asked her over dinner that 
evening.

"No, John, it's not okay. Twice today I've let things 
get out of hand between you and me and I'm not the 
least bit happy about it."

Mum's hand was lying on the table between us. I reached 
down and took her hand in mine, even though she made a 
bit of effort to take it back. 

"Come now, let me just hold my mum's hand. I'll behave, 
dear. I promise."

With a show of reluctance, she settled down and I held 
her hand tenderly as we ate.

"Mum, I know you're not happy with me just now, but I'd 
like to tell you that today has been a very lovely day 
for me. I feel closer to you than I think I've ever 
been. I've really enjoyed spending the day with you, 
and not just the parts you think. I enjoyed going 
shopping and I enjoyed our meals together. I even 
enjoyed massaging your feet, and I don't mean the 
naughty part. I hope I didn't ruin my chances of 
getting to rub your feet each night for you when you 
come home from work."

"I don't know about that, John. I don't think that 
would be a good idea."

"I know I'm green and there's a lot I have to learn, 
but I want to be a gentleman and learn to treat a lady 
right."

"Yes, there's still a lot for you to learn, young man, 
but there are some lessons that a mother isn't suppose 
to be teaching her son."

"Then where am I to learn them? The neighborhood girls 
my age can't teach me those lessons. Believe me, I've 
tried." Mum's face grew shocked as the realization of 
my admitted promiscuity dawned on her. "I guess I'll 
just have to find some sympathetic older lady in the 
neighborhood. Are there any gals your age you'd 
recommend?"

"Jonathan! You stop such talk this instant. You're only 
fifteen-years-old, son. You don't have any business 
with a woman my age."

"Well, I was hoping it wouldn't be business, since I 
don't have a job or any money. Okay, I know that was 
cheeky. It was joke, Mum. Not the part about being 
interested in an older woman, I was serious about 
that."

"Son, you need to take your time and grow up. Just 
enjoy being young and hanging out with your mates."

"Mum, my 'mates,' usually hang around on corners 
getting pissed or trying to get laid, pardon my French. 
Now, I know you think that just means I need new mates, 
but it isn't that easy. Most of the blokes my age are 
either completely clueless or too very much clued in. 
There's not a lot of safe, 'middle ground' these days.

"And besides, Mum, " I went on, giving Mum's hand a 
little squeeze as I did. "I'd really rather be spending 
my time with the ladies than getting sotted on your 
money or getting into trouble. I'm afraid you've 
whelped an incorrigible philanderer, Mum, even though 
it's not your fault."

"Oh, John! What am I to do with you? You need a man 
around the house to keep you straight, but I've none 
available."

"Don't fret yourself over that, Mum. A lot of the 
blokes I know have men about the house and most of them 
are worse off than me. You've done a good job, so far. 
You're not that disappointed in me, are you now?"

"I'm not disappointed in you, John. You're a bright lad 
and too handsome for your own good. I just wish you'd 
apply yourself to something more constructive."

"Well now, I'm trying to be constructive, Mum, in my 
own way. But let's get back to that 'handsome' thing. 
Tell me what you think is my best feature," I quipped, 
mugging for her by turning my head from side to side 
giving her a profile.

"You are incorrigible," Mum laughed gaily, squeezing my 
hand.

"Now see, I think that's one of my best features, too. 
I'm glad we agree."

We ate the rest of the meal in a more companionable 
silence. At least I'd pulled Mum out of her funk. She 
still let me hold her hand, but in every other way she 
kept a discreet distance.

Usually I tried to get out and around on Saturday 
evenings, but it was getting late anyway, so I decided 
to stay in. Besides, what I had been telling Mum about 
not really enjoying hanging around a bunch of drunken 
sots was pretty true. The first couple of times I did 
it were fun. Lately it had begun to wear thin.

I don't really like to be drunk myself. I'm the kind 
that likes to stay in control. It was fun getting the 
drunks to do things they might not normally do, to 
exercise a little control over them. But the fun of 
controlling another person for me is when they know you 
control them. When you can get someone to do what you 
want them to do, and get them to love doing it, that's 
what I enjoy most.

 But, that didn't mean I wasn't planning to enjoy 
myself tonight. I still had Mum, after all. 

Mum and I did the dishes together. She washed and I 
dried. We hadn't made much of a mess with just the two 
of us, but we enjoyed the time just being together. 
Whenever she would hand me a dish, I'd allow our hands 
to briefly touch. At first, Mum shied away from such 
caresses. But after she realized I could touch her 
without going farther than she felt comfortable going, 
she began to relax again.

"Do you miss not being married, Mum?" I asked her, 
trying to catch her in a softer mood.

"Hmm, that's a good question. I don't miss your Dad. He 
wasn't very nice in the end. But, yes, I do miss being 
married. I enjoyed having a man about the house and 
doing things for him. At least, let's say I miss the 
idea of being married."

"How come you didn't get married again, Mum?"

"I suppose the experience with your Dad made me a 
little jaded. It's not that I'm not interested in 
finding a man, but I'm not in any hurry and he'd have 
to be the right man this next time. I'm not interested 
in making another mess to clean up, physically and 
emotionally."

"But I haven't seen you date anyone or really be 
interested in a man in a long time, Mum. You can't just 
turn off all those feelings, can you? That doesn't 
sound healthy."

"Well now, John. Suddenly you're interested in my 
emotional health, are you? No, it isn't healthy to try 
and turn off your feelings, dear. I don't think I've 
done that. I'm just trying to be careful. My problem is 
I usually get too emotionally attached."

Mum was tired and it was getting late. I gave her a 
respectable peck on the cheek before she could object 
and she went up to take a bath and go to bed. I watched 
the tele for a bit, but my mind wasn't really in it. 

I kept thinking of Mum and what we'd done and what I'd 
decided. The more we talked and the more that happened, 
the more I was sure that it was the right thing to 
seduce Mum. She wasn't happy right now. She needed a 
man and I couldn't stand the thought of her bringing 
home somebody. It's not that I'd be jealous, although I 
would be. But I couldn't stand some man coming into our 
home thinking he could order me around. I would have 
definite authority problems with that.

With the tele playing low, I fell asleep on the divan. 
When I woke up, hours later, I remembered a vivid 
dream.

I dreamed that I was rubbing Mum's feet on the divan, 
just like before. Only this time, she was naked. My own 
foot was stretched out between her legs and my toes 
were wiggling in her pubic hair.

Mum was protesting, but I kept rubbing her feet and 
wiggling my toes. My foot became wet with her moisture. 
Mum's nipples were huge and very hard and as she rocked 
on my foot they made little circles in the air. In my 
dream, I watched them, fascinated.

Then I was pushing her backward. It seemed to take 
forever as she leaned back onto her bed. Suddenly, as 
can only happen in a dream, we were in her bed.  She 
went back and back and back until her strawberry blonde 
head hit the pillow. Her curls bounced in slow motion 
around her head and seemed to get closer and closer as 
I moved on top of her.

My dream Mum tried to push me away with her hands, but 
her legs seemed to wrap around me and draw me in. I 
felt my cock sliding into her, even as she protested I 
should stop.

Then we were fucking, slow and steady, and Mum's arms 
were around me and her hips were thrusting up at me, 
too. She was moaning wetly in my ear and grunting every 
time I came down on top of her. I could feel her 
nipples poking into my chest, but it was the little 
grunts each time that drove me wild.

And then she was kneeling before me with my cock 
sliding in and out of Mum's lovely mouth. Her lips were 
wet and slick and she took me deep with every thrust. 
As I sped up, she moaned and the moaning set off 
vibrations in my prick. When it slid in all the way, 
her moan was punctuated with a grunt as if to put a 
period to how deep I could go.

Then we were shopping, and Mum was still naked. But the 
main difference was that she was being very 
deferential. She was humbly asking my opinion and the 
things I rejected she quickly tossed away. She asked me 
about a black dress. I told her it was fine and she 
quickly ran away, moving on the balls of her feet 
hurriedly.

She came back in the black dress in just a moment. We 
stood before the looking glass and my hands glided 
around to fondle her breasts. There, in the store, I 
touched up Mum with strangers walking by, even going so 
far as to push her up against the glass.

With her cheek pressed against the cool glass, her butt 
pushed out and I finger-fucked her gently. Then 
eventually, not so gently. Every time my fingers slid 
in deep, Mum grunted and thanked me. Her grunts became 
whimpers and her whimpers became little keens of 
ecstasy. Just before she came, I awaken with a start.

I woke up sweating, my breath coming in gasps for a 
moment. My prick was absolutely throbbing. I thrust my 
hands in my shorts and began slowly pumping my hard 
shaft. I closed my eyes again, thinking about Mum, 
thinking about her pressed against the mirror.

In a waking fantasy this time, mentally directing the 
action, I fucked into Mum. Her breath came hard and 
hot, steaming up the looking glass. I was fucking her 
as hard as I could, as fast as my hands could jack my 
cock. In my mind I heard her grunting, grunting every 
time I pressed in. Sweet, delicate Mum, grunting like a 
whore, grunting every time I fucked her.

There on the divan, I came a second time today to 
fantasies of Mum. Thick, sticky strands of cum shot 
out, soaking the tail of my shirt and also soaking my 
belly. I continued, imagining my cock sliding into her, 
until the last of my jism oozed out of me.

The stillness of downstairs was broken only by my harsh 
breathing. I had never tossed off with Mum in the house 
except behind the closed doors of my bedroom or in the 
shower. But even if she had caught me, tonight I 
wouldn't have minded.

I cleaned up downstairs and wiped my face. It's a good 
thing that Mum sleeps so soundly. She used to say she 
could sleep through anything. Me, I'm right the 
opposite. Not only do I wake up easy, but also I don't 
sleep very long every night. About four or five hours 
is all I need.

I went upstairs and put my cum-soaked shirt in the 
laundry and changed into a fresh one. Then, starting to 
get very tired again, I crept into Mum's bedroom.

In the dim room I could barely see her. More by sound 
than sight, I followed the shallow breathing noises to 
Mum's bedside. I could just make out by the blonde hair 
against the pillow that she was lying on her side, 
facing away from me.

So very gently and easily, I slipped into bed behind 
her.  I lay my head on the pillow next to hers and 
breathed in the scent of her freshly bathed aroma. 

I breathed in the scent of her and thought about my 
dream. Even as my cock grew harder, I stifled a yawn 
and slowly fell asleep with thoughts of fucking mother.





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