Author; Bigby
Title; Mother again
Synopsis; His manipulative Mother won't tolerate another woman in his life.
Story codes; M/F, M/f, incest, etc.
More Bigby stories at; http://www.asstr.org/~Bigby/Index.htm
 and; ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Bigby/ in plain text
I sure do appreciate getting some mail back; bigbystories@hotmail.com


This is a sequel to "mother and I", which I wrote some years ago.
Although it is by far the most read of my stories, I never get any mail for it. Perhaps
these fantasies are too dark to talk about.

 Mother again;
 "I really like your mother, I think she's such a nice woman."
I felt a great relief; I had been very hesitant to introduce my new girl to Mom.
"I'm glad you two got along so well."  I said; we were approaching the house where
Brigitte lived with her own parents. I was 22, but Brigitte was just 19.
"And I like how close you are with her; that's so rare these days."
I doubted she would have thought so much of us if she knew how close my mother and I
really were.
As I stopped the car, we kissed briefly.  Then she ran inside.
She was about as opposite my mother as another female could be; tall and blond where mom
was short and brunet.  Simple and straightforward, where mom was complex and manipulative.
I'd never seen Brigitte in makeup or even a dress; she was T-shirts and denim, where mom
was meticulously in fashion.  Simple and unadorned, while mom was always painted to
perfection, bedecked in jewelry, each hair arranged.  Brigitte never wore heels, Mother
always did.

"She seems like a nice girl, Marty."  Mother said. "How long have you been seeing her?"
"Just for a couple of weeks."
"I see."
There was silence; a slightly disapproving silence.
"It didn't take you very long."  She said.
"What do you mean?"
"After we decided we'd see other people.  You started going out with her almost
immediately."
"You were already seeing Stanley."
"Don't be jealous, Marty.  You know I don't like it."  Mother said. "Have you had sex with
her yet?"
"No."
"I didn't think so.  She's a bit of a dike, isn't she?"
"What you mean?"
"Gay.  Homosexual; she seems like a girl who would rather be a boy."
"I don't think so, Mother."
"Did you kiss her goodnight?"
"Yes, of course."
"Like this?"
Mother put her arms around my neck, pressed her body against mine, and pushed her lips
against my mouth.  Her tongue came sliding in, darting around my cheeks and gums, as if
searching for anything that might be hiding in there.
Her slim curvaceous body moved against me, in her irresistible way.  I felt my prick began
to inflate.
Her mouth pulled away, and she looked up into my eyes lazily.
"Well?"
"No, not like that."  I admitted.
Mother laughed; "Come on, let's go to bed."
Mother is 46; the kind of 46-year-old woman that still turns heads.  She still wears short
skirts, because she still can.  It's sometimes been difficult, growing up in her shadow.
She split up with my dad when I was young, and there had been many boyfriends and lovers
since.
And then, we were thrown together one lonely night during my freshman year, our
inhibitions were momentarily down; I had sex with my own mother.
She's too strong for me, too charismatic.  She wanted to do it again, and again; she
wouldn't let me go.  I moved back into her house.

Knowing what was expected of me, I undressed and climbed into my mother's bed.  She
watched with her usual bemused smile, and then slowly undressed herself.
Mother has an amazing figure for a woman her age.  Her breasts are still full, yet her
hips are slim.  She's got great legs [although slightly short], and even her ass is still
presentable.  But the thing Mother has that separates her from other women is her
sexiness; every move she makes, every gesture, every look, everything about her is sexy.
Mother can't change the TV channel without being sexy.  It's partly contrived, and partly
just how she is.
So as she slowly rolled her stockings down her legs, I couldn't help but enjoy watching.
As she arched her back, and unhooked her bra, I had to admit that it would be mighty hard
to find a woman who could save me from her. I wished I'd had sex with Brigitte; perhaps I'
d have the strength to refuse my randy  mom if I could just get someone I really cared for
into the sack with me.
Mother slid into bed, and fitted her hot little body against me.  She put her arms around
me, one under my head and the other under my armpit.  She stroked my back and kissed me
again, she reached down and took my cock in her hand.
"Sexy sexy boy."  She whispered, "My well endowed son."
She stroked my cock and kissed me for a while; I stroked her silky back, enjoying her
voluptuous curves as the guilt and shame of what we were doing was slowly replaced by
simple lust. Mother's familiar fingers tickled my stiff cock, her generous soft breasts
pressed against me. After a while, she pushed me over onto my back and mounted me.
Mother is tighter than anyone I've ever known.  She looked down and me and laughed,
causing her breasts to wobble and her hair to bounce.  I felt her squeezing my cock with
her strong vaginal muscles; Mother did special exercises.
She held both my hands, and lifted her body up and down over my penis.  She smiled and
then laughed again; Mother does love to do it.
After awhile, I rolled her over so I was on top; I gave it to her as hard as I could
without coming.
Mother had her orgasm, cooing and crying, kissing me and clutching my ass. Despite my
conflict about fucking her, I do love the way Mother comes; she's just so intense. My dick
was like iron as I pounded her sexy little frame, while she twisted and squeezed against
me, stroking my back and ass with her long manicured nails. At last I could bear it no
longer; I pumped my slime into her, the way she likes it.
"You're so good Marty." She whispered happily.
She rested her head on my shoulder as we slept.

"Of course she's gay, Marty."  Mother said over breakfast, "Didn't you see the way she was
flirting with me all evening?"
"No."
"You're so naive, Marty.  Invite her over again in a couple of days, and I'll show you."

I was preparing dinner for Brigitte, Mother, and myself, when Mother asked me to give her
a hand in the spare bathroom. Brigitte hadn't arrived yet.
"Hold on to that panel while I unscrew it."  She said.  Mother is the only person I've
never seen use power tools in high heels and stockings.
I had never figured out what that panel was hiding; it had always been there.  Like the
bathroom itself, it seemed out of place.
After I carried it out into the hall, I came back to the bathroom.  Behind where the
wooden panel had been, was a window.  A window into my mother's bedroom.  The back of my
mother's bedroom mirror.
"Your father put this in, before you were born."  She told me. "You'd better get back into
the kitchen."
The implications of the window slowly dawned on me; the '70s, free sex.  Partner swapping;
my mother and father had been doing strange things before my birth.  Probably after my
birth, as well.
Of course it made sense, mother had always been that way.  Sexually bent, I mean.  She
hadn't just suddenly become a pervert; she had been one for a long time.
Mother sashayed into the kitchen.
"Now after we eat, I'll phone from my cell; you answer, and pretend it's your father.  You
say his car's broken down, and you have to go out to help him.  Then you creep back in,
and hide in the spare bathroom."
"Mother..."
"Now don't argue with me, Marty.  I said I would prove it to you, didn't I?  You just do
as I say."
"Yes, mother."

I keep promising myself that I won't let mother manipulate me anymore; but then I find my
life wrapped around her fingers again, as she plays me like a toy.
It so difficult to go against her, and so easy to capitulate.  Mother is a clinical
physiologist, she's trained to twist people's minds.
I knew from the beginning she would never let me have a relationship, not this easy.  I
would have to leave Mother, move away again; maybe to a different city this time.  I
should have never even told her about Brigitte. Mother had suckered me into it, making out
that she wanted to end our sexual relationship. "Find a nice girl, Marty."  She'd told me.
"Invite her for dinner, Marty."  She'd insisted.

As usual, I did as my mother instructed.  I left her alone with Brigitte, and drove away.
I snuck back in the back door about 15 minutes later, and slipped into the guest bathroom.
My new girlfriend was sitting in front of the mirror, staring at herself.  Mother stood
behind her, brushing her hair.
"You have lovely hair, Brigitte; just let me brush it out a little bit."
I could just hear them through the glass.
"Okay."  Brigitte said, looking slightly embarrassed.
"I find it hard to believe you've never used makeup.  You're such a pretty girl; you could
look truly amazing."
"It's just never been my thing."  Brigitte said.
"You know, I have a dress that might fit you."  Mother said, putting the hairbrush down on
her dressing table and stepping across the room to her closet.
She opened closet, and removed a long sheer blue dress on a hanger.
Mother held up the dress and said something to Brigitte, but I couldn't make out what.
Brigitte turned away from the mirror, and  I found that I couldn't make out what she was
saying unless she faced me.
They talked for a minute or two, and I wondered what clever little arguments Mother was
using to break down the young girl's inhibitions.
Fascinated, I watched as Brigitte slowly pulled off her T-shirt.  We had kissed and
touched a little bit, but I had never undressed her.  Once or twice, I thought I could
have; but she lived with her parents, and I always felt self-conscious when I was at her
house.
I could see her blush as she removed her shoes and then her jeans.
Mother rummaged around in her underwear drawer while Brigitte unhooked her bra.
Mother shrugged and held up one of her own bras that was clearly too big for Brigitte's
small breasts.  They both laughed, but I could see she was fairly uncomfortable standing
in front of my formidable mother with nothing on but a pair of white panties.
I watched Brigitte don the dress that Mother had found for her; it was a bit small for
Brigitte, barely covering her.  She looked incredible.
Mother sat Brigitte at her dressing table again, just two feet away from me.  Mother
brushed Brigitte's blond hair again.
"You are an extraordinarily beautiful girl."  Mother said, one hand on Brigitte's naked
shoulder.
"Thank you."  Brigitte said, blushing.
"Such extraordinary skin."  Mother said, stroking girl's cheek. "And such big clear eyes."
They didn't say anything for a minute, they just stared at each other in the mirror, as I
stared at them through it.  Mother put the brush down, and began to stroke Brigitte's face
and neck.  Slowly, Mother brought her face down alongside Brigitte's head.
Brigitte was looking slightly alarmed, but didn't object immediately when Mother kissed
her on the neck, then the cheek.
"What are you doing?" Brigitte asked at last.
Mother laughed; "Just exploring the boundaries, dear. I find you so very attractive, I
just felt the urge to kiss you."
Mother kissed Brigitte's neck again; I couldn't see where her hands were.
"I don't think you should." Brigitte said.
"Why not? Because we're both female? There's no one here, darling. Just you and me and
these four walls; no one will know. Close your eyes and just feel what's really inside
yourself; relax and be free."
Mother's hands appeared from below the tabletop; moving upward over the sheer dress, until
they cupped my new girlfriend's young firm breasts.
"What do you feel?" Mother asked quietly, "Pleasure?"
"I'm not sure." Brigitte said, barely breathing.
"You're very excited dear." Mother said, "I can see that. Have you ever kissed a woman?"
"No."
"Perhaps it's time you did. Just to know."
Mother stepped around to the side of the chair, and Brigitte turned her head and looked
up; Mother took the girl's face in her hands, and bending down, kissed her very gently on
the lips.
The silence and tension permeated through the glass; my young girlfriend was looking quite
shocked, and yet... excited.
"What do you feel, dear?" Mother asked.
"I don't know." Brigitte stammered.
"Yes you do." Mother laughed; "You feel excitement, afraid yet with a desire for more.
Just like I do."
Mother bent and kissed the teenager again, a long deliberate soft kiss on the mouth. Her
hands held Brigitte's face, and I saw Brigitte's hands go to Mother's slim hips.
Mother pulled her face away from the from the girl, and they looked at each other;
Brigitte in a kind of shock, and Mother in that all knowing way she has.
Mother reached behind herself, and pulled down the zipper of her own dress; young Brigitte
just stared at her silently as Mother peeled the cloth down to her waist and allowed it to
slip to the floor.  Mother was wearing a lacy half bra that supported her generous breasts
and held them forward.  She unhooked it, allowing her appendages to hang naturally.
Brigitte watched Mother strip in the mirror.  Mother was saying something, but I couldn't
make out what.  Brigitte turned to face her, and stood up.

They stood facing each other, my mother and my teenage girlfriend.  Their breasts facing
each other's breasts.
Mother was speaking and gesturing.  I could see her face, but not Brigitte's.  Then Mother
came around behind Brigitte, unzipped the dress, and removed it from the girl.
They faced each other, semi-naked; then Mother placed her hands over Brigitte's breasts,
her thumbs underneath and her fingers above.  I saw her squeeze gently, and then swirl her
fingers around the perfect round protrusions.  Very gently, she squeezed Brigitte's pink
little nipples.
Brigitte just stood stock still, blushing but not taking  her eyes off of Mother.  Her
nipples began to protrude visibly.
Mother released the girl's breasts, and took her hands.  She placed them on her own tits.
She smiled as the younger woman gently lifted and caressed the large middle-aged breasts.
The breasts that had fed me when I was a baby, and tickled my cock when I was an adult.
It was dark and private in the room I watched from; as dark and private as the emotions
that my voyeurism caused in me.  I pulled out my cock, and stroked myself.  The physical
pleasure partially offsetting my distress.
Mother moved slightly closer to Brigitte; I could see Brigitte's firm round ass press
against the corner of Mother's dressing table just on the other side of the mirror.
"Your eyes are so clear, and your skin is so perfect."  I heard Mother say, "Are you a
virgin, dear?"
I couldn't hear an answer, but I could see Brigitte nod in the affirmative.
Mother kissed her; I couldn't see their lips, but I was very aware of the kiss; of mother'
s hands on Brigitte's naked back.
"Do you like it?" Mother asked.
If there was an answer, I couldn't tell what it was.  Brigitte looked away from Mother,
and I could see her profile.  She looked confused and unsure of herself.
 Mother stepped to the side, so she was in front of Brigitte again.  She pulled the two
female bodies into contact, their naked breasts squeezing gently against each other.
Taking the girls face, Mother brought Brigitte's lips to her own.  Brigitte didn't
struggle or object; she stood stiffly at first, and then seemed to relax, at least
partially.  Her hands wrapped around Mother's hips, and slid up Mother's naked back.
They kissed; and kissed and kissed.  They seem to be unaware of time, of the world.  There
was just the kiss, female on female, breast on breast.  Tongue on female tongue.
Finally, they broke apart.  They held hands, and stared at each other in silence.
So, I thought; Mother had proved her point.  She was speaking to Brigitte softly, and I
couldn't hear her words; but I knew she was saying something seductive, being as
persuasive as only Mother could.  Mother's fingers gently caressed the smooth pale flesh
of the younger woman.  Then Mother lifted the phone.
I grabbed my cell phone and answered it quickly, before the ring became loud.
"You've made your point, Mother."  I said, "I'll come back now."
"Oh no, Marty."  Mother said, "Don't worry about us, we're having a fine time.  You give
your father a ride home, and we'll see you in a couple of hours.  Bye bye."
Damn Mother, I thought.
Mother sat Brigitte down on her bed, and sat at her feet on the carpet.  She lifted one of
Brigitte's feet, and placed it on her own naked chest.  Mother's fingers ran up the girl's
ankle, they looked at each other as Mother stroked Brigitte's long legs sensuously.
Mother's other hand slowly slid up Brigitte's other leg; I couldn't see exactly where
went, but I could imagine. After a moment, I saw Brigitte lift her ass from the bed.
Neither of them spoke as Mother slid Brigitte's panties down her lovely legs, leaving the
girl stark naked.
Mother began to kiss Brigitte's leg, working her way upwards; skipping the groin, she
kissed up the belly, to the breasts.  Brigitte lay back against the bed, and Mother
crawled on top of her.  I stroked my stiff cock while I watched through the mirror as my
Mother ground her lips against the girl's mouth.
Mother was right, as usual.  Brigitte was clearly a lesbian; what my Mother was remained
less clear.
My girlfriend pursed her lips, and seemed to pull Mother's tongue into her mouth.
I watched them as they rotated around each other, exploring each other's bodies, each
exploring their own newfound sensuality.  Mother was the first to put her head between her
lover's thighs, and I saw Brigitte stiffen in pleasure.  I wasn't sure if she had an
orgasm, but she soon moved around to return the favor.
Mother bucked her hips, holding my girlfriend's head between her legs as she often held
mine when I went down on her.
Mother shook her head, laughed, and ground her hips into Brigitte's young mouth.  She
came, staring at me through the mirror in triumph.
I don't suppose many people can say they've been cuckolded by their own mother.
Mother went down on Brigitte again after that, and I watched her lick the girl intently
until Brigitte finally and definitively came.
God, I thought, what gorgeous girl.  Brigitte, that is.

"I was right, wasn't I Marty?"
"Yes, Mother."
"You should let me find you a girl.  Who knows what you'll bring home next time."
"I like Brigitte, Mother."
"Get undressed, Marty.  It's bedtime."
"I still have to brush my teeth."
"Well brush them naked, dear.  I like to watch your cock shake around while you brush."
"All right."
Mother stood behind me and played with my penis while I brushed my teeth at the sink.  It
felt nice, reassuring and loving.  She pressed her large soft breasts into my back.
It irritated me that Mother always had to be right.  It bothered me that she treated me
like her toy.  It wasn't right that we were lovers.
But I couldn't resist her, the way she fondled my cock and balls, the way she took
control.  The way she cared for me like only a mother could, and made love to me with more
intensity than anyone I'd ever known.
"I still want her, Mother."  I said.
"But Marty, the girl is gay."  Mother said, stroking my erection with a sure hand.
"Maybe she's bi." I suggested.
"Perhaps."  Mother conceded, "It was fun, playing around with her; but it's left me
terribly randy.  Come along, Marty."  And she led me by the hand into her bedroom.
Her playing around with Brigitte had left me fairly randy as well; I was happy to oblige
Mother that night.
It's always strange to me, I guess it should be.  Sliding my cock into Mother's tight
little body, holding her sensuously in my arms, kissing her and fucking her.
She's great in bed, better than any other woman I've been with in my short life.  Mother
is so energetic, so enthusiastic.  She always comes, usually more than once.
I just wish I could find a girl like Mother.
"Come, Marty; don't hold back, let me have it!"
"Yes Mother."
"Such a good boy!"
My big hard cock moved in and out of the small body that had once carried me.  I held the
woman who had once nurtured me, fed me, changed my diapers.
She grabbed my ass in her hands, grunting with the intensity of her pleasure. Her big eyes
watched me as I pounded her.
Throwing my conflict and guilt to one side for a moment, I grabbed her head, and pushed my
tongue into her open mouth.
It was wrong, so completely wrong; that's what we had been taught, that's what we have all
been told.  What we were doing was the most perverted, depraved, disgusting possible
thing.  It was incest, I was literally a Motherfucker.
But there was no one else like her, no one's mouth tasted like her mouth, no one smelled
the way she smelled.  I'd had plenty of girlfriends, but none of them loved me like my
mother did.  None of them had touched me that way, sucked me the way Mother could suck me.
None of them stared into my eyes and came half as hard as her.
None of them could make me feel as powerful as a man yet as cherished as a child.
I ejaculated deep into the womb that I'd once occupied. Mother kicked my ass with the
heels of her feet, totally enjoying our incestuous union, as always.

I went out with Brigitte several times the next week, and I kissed her in the movie
theater.
There was something so honest about her, something strong and clean and good.  And yet, I
knew that she had spread her legs for Mother; I knew that her tongue had been in my
Mother's groin.  I had seen her have an orgasm in my Mother's arms.
I went to spend the weekend with my father, but we had a fight about something; Mother,
actually.  My dad couldn't stop badmouthing her.
Even though I couldn't disagree with what he said, knowing what I knew, it angered me the
way he couldn't let go of his bitterness.
So I returned home.  Unexpectedly early.
I saw Mother's boyfriend's car in our driveway.  I felt a twinge of jealousy; I wanted to
stop having sex with her, I knew it was screwing me up.  But I felt jealous anyway when
she did it with someone else, which she did whenever the desire struck her.
She had been seeing Stanley for several months. He was very well off, and had taken Mother
to Hawaii for a week, and Paris too. He tried to be friendly to me, but I didn't like him.
His ego seemed a bit too big for him.
I went in the back door, and entered the guest bathroom.  I looked through the one-way
mirror into Mother's bedroom.
Straight into the eyes of Brigitte.

Mother stood behind her, sensuously brushing my girlfriend's straight shoulder-length
blond hair.  Since they were sitting so close to the glass, I could hear them.
Brigitte was wearing Mother's transparent blue negligee; her pert little breasts were
tantalizingly evident under the gauzy nylon.
"I don't know about this, Sharon.  I feel as though I'm betraying Marty."
"Don't be silly, Brigitte.  What he doesn't know won't hurt him.  Your first time with a
man shouldn't be some random event; it can be quite frightening.  This way, I can be there
with you."
"I appreciate that.  But it all seems rather contrived."
"I suppose it does; but sex usually is.  Are you nervous?"
"Very."
"That's quite normal, dear."  Mother said, running her fingers comfortingly across
Brigitte's pale young shoulders. "I'm going to call Stanley in now."
Mother turned away from the mirror, and crossed the room to open the door.  I suddenly
realized what was happening; Stanley, he was there.  Stanley, my mother's older lover was
about to enter the bedroom, the bedroom where Brigitte was waiting for him in Mother's
sexy negligee.
I felt all the strength drain from my body, as if someone had pulled the plug.  My knees
felt like rubber, my hands were numb.  How could this be happening?  Why was Mother doing
this to me?
She was jealous, jealous of the younger woman.  Jealous of my attraction to her.  Mother
wanted to keep me for herself; why had I been so stupid?  Why had I told Mother
everything?
Numbly, I sat on the toilet lid and watched.
Stanley was older than my mother by about 10 years; he was in his late '50s.
Despite that, he was in fairly good condition.  He didn't have a hair on his head, but he
had strong shoulders and a tapered torso, a lean ass and strong legs.
"You look ravishing."  He said to Brigitte, approaching her.
My girl said nothing, she just blushed and looked at the floor as Stanley took her hand
and kissed it, as though they were meeting in a formal setting.
But he didn't release the hand; she stood up as he began to kiss slowly up her arm,
towards her uncovered shoulder.
Mother stood behind him, and put her hands around his waist.  Mother pulled his shirt out
of his waistband, and began to unbutton it.
The old man held Brigitte by her chin; the girl stood as still as a statue as he kissed
her neck, her cheek, and her nose. She seemed expressionless, as if she didn't know
herself what she should be feeling as she surrendered herself by pre-arrangement to this
stranger.
Mother pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, and Brigitte didn't retreat when he
released her for the moment it took Mother to slide the shirt away from him completely.
Stanley's fingers traced across Brigitte's fine face, and down her shoulders to her hands.
He brought his face closer to hers; she looked at him levelly; they were the same height.
Mother moved around behind Brigitte; in her highest heels, Mother's head was nearly level
with the teenager's. Mother put her chin on Brigitte's shoulder, and stroked the girl's
opposite ear with one hand as she wrapped her other arm around Brigitte's slim waist.
Mother was holding my girlfriend from moving away from Stanley, stopping her from being
able to step backwards as Stanley stepped forwards.
  His mouth came within a hair's breadth of the virgin teenager's; his old lips closed the
gap.
There was stillness, I think my heart stopped beating for a moment.  It was wrong,
completely wrong that he should be kissing her.  She was My girl, I should be the one to
make love with her!
Mother held her from behind and stroked her stomach as Stanley's hands gently took
Brigitte by the hips.  He pulled her close.
Brigitte's little hands went to the small of his back, and I could see her breasts getting
squeezed against his hairy chest.  Their mouths were moving, the touch of their bodies
beginning to generate heat.
Mother could talk anyone into anything, she could talk a starving man out of his last
morsel.  She could talk a young girl into giving herself to an old man.  She had me so
obedient, that I couldn't find it within me to cross her, even as I watched her betray me
so utterly.
Mother was saying something, but I couldn't hear what it was.  I knew her so well, I knew
her sugary and persuasive arguments, I knew her soft, insistent, seductive voice.  She
took Brigitte's hand, and pulled her towards the bed.  Mother pulled open the knot of the
negligee, and slipped it from the young girl's body.
Stanley and I watched as Mother arranged the girl on the bed.  Mother then returned to
Stanley, and unbuckled his belt.  She dropped his pants, and pulled his underwear down.  I
could see Brigitte staring at his half hard penis.  Stanley stepped to the bed; in slow
motion, he climbed over my girlfriend.  Holding himself above her, he kissed her on the
lips again.  The tip of his cock rested against her pale flat belly.  I saw her hand go to
it, wrap around it, gently experience it.
He had a decent dick; I watched it grow in Brigitte's hand, coming quickly to full size
and strength. I found myself slightly fascinated by it; the organ that took my place in my
mother's mouth and cunt so often these days. The organ in my girlfriend's slim fingers.
Mother was still speaking, sitting on the bed next to them.  She stroked Stanley's ass.
It occurred to me that I should do something to stop this; but what right did I have?
Brigitte had agreed to this strange event, she was even now totally engrossed in her first
sexual experience, sandwiched between her two lovers. It would be very traumatic for
everyone if I were to burst in on them. So I just watched, my indecision burning inside me
as hot as the scene before my eyes.
I watched as Brigitte and Stanley slowly got more and more intimate, touching and kissing.
Becoming more aroused.  Mother went down on Brigitte while Stanley held and kissed her.
They switched, and Mother kissed the girl while Stanley licked her seventeen year old
virgin snatch.
After an age of this intense three way foreplay, I watched Stanley got on his knees
between Brigitte's spread legs; Mother kneeled behind Stanley and held his cock against
Brigitte's virgin entrance; I watched in horror as the old man gently pushed himself
against my lovely girlfriend's feeble resistance.  I saw her back arch and her fingers
clutch his shoulders as he slowly wormed himself into her.  I saw her body tense at the
unfamiliar sensation.  I saw her expression, a mixture of fear and arousal as she gave her
virginity to this old man she didn't even know, staring up at him wide eyed as his old
dick filled her.
Mother lay down next to Brigitte, and stroked her head while she kissed the girl.  Mother
had taken most of her clothes off now, but her beauty couldn't compare to Brigitte.
Stanley fucked gently at first, in no hurry.  After awhile, he sped up slightly, and I saw
Brigitte began to tense again.  This time, in preparation of orgasm.
After the first one, Brigitte's second orgasm came fairly soon.
There was something fascinating and terrible about watching this; it was like a horror
movie, it filled me with revulsion, and yet I couldn't tear my eyes away. The old man
screwing the teenager, and yet the teenager was clearly enjoying the experience. I
wondered what little things Mother was whispering into Brigitte's ear, persuasive and sexy
things to keep the girl on the unlikely path that Mother wanted her on.
Whatever it was, it was working. There was a third orgasm.  I wasn't sure, but I think
there was a fourth. Stanley was good at this.
Mother had arranged herself under the girl, so her legs were around the bodies of the
lovers.  Brigitte's head lay between Mother's naked breasts, and Mother stroked and
reassured her while Stanley fucked her incessantly, kissing the girl on the mouth.
Stanley was saying something, and Mother was shaking her head in the negative.  Stanley
pulled out of Brigitte, and quickly brought his cock up to the faces of the two women;
Mother took him in her mouth as he ejaculated, but then jammed his cock into Brigitte's
mouth before he was through.
I could see Mother swallowing, and she stroked Brigitte's face and kissed away the small
amount of Stanley's sperm that had been misdirected.  She stroked Brigitte's face, and I
could see Brigitte's throat muscles moving as she swallowed her share.
The three of them lay together afterwards, and even Mother seemed to be keeping her mouth
shut for once.
I left the voyeur bathroom quietly, and sat on the couch in the living room outside
Mother's bedroom door.
I was angry and bitter; I had been betrayed, totally betrayed by my own mother, by my
girlfriend, and of course by Stanley.  I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew what I
didn't want; I didn't want to put up with this, I refused to ignore this.
The door opened, and Mother came out, clad in her sexy little green kimono.  She saw me,
and the color drained from her face.  I had to smile at that; in my entire life, I'd never
seen Mother look so anxious.
"Hi, Marty; you're home early!"
"Yes, that's right."  I said, staring her straight in the eyes.
"Would you be a darling and go out to get me some menstrual pads dear?"  She said, sitting
down next to me.
"I saw everything, Mother."
"What you mean?"
"I saw everything.  I watched you, and Stanley and Brigitte.  I saw it all, Mother."
"Oh dear.  I'm terribly sorry, Marty.  I only did it for you."
"For me?  You did that for me?"
"Of course dear.  I wanted to introduce your little dike girlfriend to heterosexual sex.
I couldn't very well be there while you did it with her, could I?  So of course it had to
be Stanley the first time. She seemed to enjoy it, so now she's ready for you."
"You're full of shit, Mother.  I don't know why you did it, but it wasn't for me."
"How can you talk to me like that?  I understand that you're jealous, Marty.  But try to
keep it under control.  Now Stanley thinks of me as his woman, and you've been enjoying
yourself with me the whole time I've been with him.  It really shouldn't be such a big
thing that he's done it with Brigitte just once.  Someone had to do it, Marty, she wasn't
going to wait forever.  Did it make you horny, watching us?"
"Yes."  I said, sullenly.
"I didn't get any satisfaction, either.  They're both asleep, I think.  Let's go into your
room, we can talk there."
"Mother, I don't think..."
"You never do, Marty.  Come along."
Damn, Mother did look good in that kimono; the thin belt knotted around her slim waist,
the way the fabric stretched over her generous breasts, the way it barely covered her cute
ass.
I shouldn't let her do this to me, I thought as she opened my trousers and pulled them
down.  I shouldn't.
In the dark privacy of my bedroom, Mother pulled off my clothes.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Marty." Mother whispered seductively, gently pulling on my cock.
"Let me make you feel better."
"Mother, please..."
"Relax, Marty. Let Mommy make it all better... don't I always?"
"Yes."
"You're a pervert Marty." She told me, sending shivers of delight through me by pulling my
cock with her hands, "You enjoyed watching that old man take your little girlfriend, didn'
t you? I know you did, baby. And now you're doing it with your mother again. It's all
right, Marty; there's no need for you to feel ashamed."
But I did feel ashamed; while she sucked my cock in that wonderful gentle way of hers; the
way that drove me crazy but didn't let me come. I should find Brigitte, I thought to
myself; wasn't she still in there with Stanley?
Mother laughed gently in her knowing way as she looked up at me with a sly smile, while
her familiar hands teased my cock and balls, her long polished nails scratching me in
their special way.
"Tell me you love me, Marty." She whispered.
"I love you, Mother." I answered her, and I was immediately rewarded by her hot mouth
sucking me deeply again. Good god, no one could suck dick like Mother!
"Tell me I'm sexy, Marty." She insisted.
I lifted her up by her upper arms and embraced her; she was so comfortable against me, her
face tilted up at me as she waited for my answer.
"Very sexy, Mother, very very sexy." I said before kissing her.
"I would never leave you, Marty." She said,  "I'll always take care of you, Marty. That
girl wouldn't be able to satisfy you, not for long! You'd get tired of her, she'd be like
a stone around your neck. You saw how she was in bed, like a rag doll. If I hadn't been
there, she wouldn't have even gone through with it."
Finally, Mother was naked on her back, her legs spread for me; my dick was on fire, my
heart was aching, I tried to resist, but it was useless. She laughed in soft sexy triumph
as I slid it in her.  She laughed and grabbed my head as I began to screw her.
I couldn't believe I was doing this, mindlessly fucking Mom with Brigitte only a couple of
doors away; but I couldn't stop myself, I needed it.  I needed to feel her reassuring body
against myself, I needed to feel the grip of her vagina around my cock.  I had to know
that I could satisfy her like no one else could, that this hot desirable woman was mine.
"Do you think she could replace me, Marty? Could she cook your favorite dishes and squeeze
your cock like I do?"
What did history matter?  Everything before this moment was unimportant.  It didn't matter
that she was once my mother, it didn't matter that she had taken my girlfriend from me and
given her to another man.  It didn't matter that she'd had other lovers.  All that
mattered was that we couldn't resist each other, we needed each other.  We loved each
other as lovers.
Mother lifted her hips to meet each stroke, our rhythm matching perfectly, the result of
so much practice together. Her fantastic vaginal muscles gripped my dick, her hands
clutched at my ass as she came; I couldn't stand it, I needed release!  Mother was right,
she was always right. Brigitte had made her decision, and I was making mine.
Mother wrapped her leg around my shoulders, and put the soul of her foot against my face.
Her other foot was on my back, my hands held her ass as my pent-up frustration erupted in
a wonderful rush, pumping deep inside of her hungry body.
No other woman could make me feel this way, I realized; there was no use in trying to find
another lover.  It wasn't just the physical intensity of Mother, it was the pleasure of
knowing she was mine, of knowing I was everything to her; her baby, her son, her lover. It
was the feeling of dominance I achieved by emptying my sperm into her; marking her as
mine, I was staking my exclusive claim to my mother's love. No stepfathers need apply
here.
I knew suddenly why I had never made the move on Brigitte, why I had dated her for those
months without ever having sex with her.  It wasn't her that was hesitant, it was me;
because it was never her I really wanted.  Because I knew that even though we would have
had good sex, it would be disappointing compared to my mother's love.  I knew her tight
young pussy wouldn't be able to hold me like my mother's practiced cunt.

"Sharon?"  Said Stanley, opening my bedroom door.
I looked up at him in shock;
He stared back at me in more shock.
"Holy shit."  He said.
"What is it Stanley?"  I heard Brigitte say as she looked in as well.  She was dressed in
only a towel, which was one towel more than either Mother or I was wearing.
"Oh my God."  She said, her mouth falling open as the immensity of what she was seeing
slowly soaked into her brain.

We didn't see Stanley or Brigitte again.  I heard that they moved to California together.

And I'm still with Mother; what's to use in pretending?  No one can compare to her.
Who else can love me like she does?  Mother feeds me, nurtures me, houses me, and fucks
the hell out of me.
Mother is confident that we can escape our cultural baggage, and just enjoy each other as
a man and woman should.
So we're talking a lot now, when we're not having mad sex.
Bigby, 2005

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