A Son Comforts His Widowed Mum Ch 03

I am no charmer. When I try to sound smooth it comes across as sarcastic. My suave and sophisticated act usually just weirds people out. What I am successful at is stoopit funny. Many a time I have ensnared a girl with my comedy dumb-ass-ness (or so I liked to believe) and Sarah was the current victim of my seductive humour. The blonde, blue-eyed, big-breasted babe was lying on my shabby bed, giggling as I pretended to fumble with her bra (it was actually pretty damn fiddly) and she didn't stop laughing at me even when I began to fondle her big lovable boobs. I'm not sure it's a good sign if a date keeps laughing at you even as you're trying to make love to her.

I had undone the button on her tight jeans and was just extending my naughty fingertips into her snug panties when my doorbell rang. Ignoring it, I provoked more giggles with my tickling of her soft, trimmed pubes. The bell rang twice more and I mentally told whoever it was to get lost. The bell rang a third time. I resigned myself to the interruption.

"I'll get rid of 'em and be right back," I said, standing up.

Sarah went to pull on her jumper.

"Wait, what're you doing?" I asked.

"It's chilly!"

"Don't put away those puppies, I won't be a sec."

I cursed fate as I trundled downstairs, regretting that I too was topless and bare-footed and feeling the chill. I opened the door to discover my mum, dancing on the doorstep to keep warm.

"Ta-dah!" she sang as she nudged me aside, "I could see your light was on, what took you so long?"

I gawped at her glossy black stilettos and opaque black nylons that disappeared up under her long, thick Winter coat as she walked up the stairs. At the top, she turned and looked down at me.

"It's bloody nippy out there," she said, rubbing her gloved hands together.

And then she was gone and I was standing like an idiot, still holding the door open. Then I remembered Sarah. I closed the door and raced upstairs and into my room. Sarah was sitting on the bed with her hands cupping her bosom.

"Who the fuck is this?!" she demanded, gesturing to my mum who was loitering the doorway.

"Er, Mum, this is Sarah. Sarah this is... my mum."

"Oh bloody hell," Sarah said with her flesh wobbling as she tried to pull on her tangled-up jumper.

"It's nice to meet you. I'll, er, just..." Mum discreetly exited.

I stalled her on the stairs and we stood nose-to-nose in the narrow passage.

"I'm sorry," she smiled awkwardly, "I hadn't thought... I just wanted to surprise you. Of course you'd be busy. I should've phoned."

"You don't have to go."

"No, it was silly of me to just turn up out of the blue."

"Come in, I'll put the kettle on."

"I wouldn't dream of interrupting your fun. I was meeting some friends, I was in town and thought I'd surprise you, it's no big deal."

"Mum? Come on, come in."

She walked down to the door and opened it, the wind whipped at her hair as she looked up.

"Perhaps you'll call me?" she said, "This weekend? If you have the time. Or whenever."

"Sure, I..."

"Bub-bye, baby."

She looked cheerful enough as she waved and then closed the door but I still felt like a complete bastard as I trudged back upstairs.

"She gone?" Sarah asked.

I stood pondering, looking but not looking at the girl on my bed.

"Can you let yourself out?" I said as I slipped my bare feet into my sneakers, "Pull the door up when you go."

"Whaddya mean!?"

I grabbed a jacket and pulled it on.

"We had plans!" she yelled.

"Well, y'know, plans change."

I scarpered down the stairs and out into the gathering darkness of late afternoon. The streetlights were just now turning on. I zipped up my jacket and thought. Where would she go? Bus stop! I ran down the street and turned the corner. There was a bus at the stop and I saw Mum stepping up to go inside. I called out, waving as I ran. She noticed me and stepped back down from the bus. I came up to her, breathing hard (the 500 metre sprint is not my forte). I gestured for the driver to go, the doors hissed shut and the noisy bus pulled away.

"I was expecting you on the fifth, a year since Dad died," I said, gasping a little, my hot breath crystallising in the brittle air, "I'd drank loads of water in case you wanted to go piss on his grave."

"I'm not here because of him," she touched my face, "He doesn't enter into my thoughts, he doesn't deserve to."

My face said to her: Quite right, too right!

"Tonight is the anniversary of the funeral," she said, "And of you and me..."

She blushed delightfully.

"Oooh," I grinned.

She leaned in close and kissed me, her lips were soft and warm, despite the frigid air. We kissed for a few minutes and it was wonderful to feel her embrace again. We had been seeing each other quite often, dating or making love or just being intimate friends, when she had said that we needed some space. I was crushed but she argued that it wasn't healthy for me, that I needed to build a life without her, a real girlfriend, a real future. I knew she was right but I still missed her, my incredible, slinky sexy mother. I hugged her tight and kissed her with all the passion of someone who hasn't seen their lover for two months.

After our affectionate smooching came to a natural pause, she said, "You really didn't have to run after me."

"But then I wouldn't have got that kiss."

I admired my own suavity, George Clooney had nothing on me. The cold air was painting a rosy glow on to her cheeks and the tip of her nose. I put my arms around her waist and pulled her in for another kiss but she held me at bay.

"What about the half naked girl in your bedroom?"

"I told her to beat it."

"You didn't! I hope you're joking."

Her face was distressed and serious. I'd seen that face many, many times throughout my life. Her frowning eyebrows told me I'd just fucked up. Despite her obvious disappointment, I couldn't help but get utterly lost in her gorgeous eyes; accentuated with a dash of smokey eye-shadow she looked stunning. She was so beautiful it was almost cruel.

"Not in so many words," I crawled.

She shook her head at me. Then she turned me around by my shoulders and began to march me back up the street.

"Maybe she hasn't yet gone and you can apologise."

"Muuuum," I whined.

I was smirking at the situation as my mother's heels clicked speedily, echoing her fast steps. At the corner of the street, we saw Sarah stomping away. Mum made me call her and we caught up with her.

"What do you want, knobhead?" Sarah snarled at me.

"I'm very sorry," Mum said, "I didn't mean for him to run out on you like that. It's just, well, it's twelve months since his dad died and I thought he may like to have dinner with me."

"Oh. That's alright," Sarah's rage was melted instantly.

"Would you like to join us? You're quite welcome."

"No, thank you, no. I'll let you two talk."

"Thank you ever so much, Sarah, you're very understanding."

Sarah harrumphed at me and walked off, pulling up the hood of her thick coat with an angry flourish.

"I would've made it up to you, obviously!" I called after her.

Mum was clearly dissatisfied with my chivalry. I shrugged and shivered.

"So, it looks like it's just you and me, knobhead," she gave me her cheeky smirk, "Would you like to take me to dinner?"

"I'd love to. I'll just pop home to get some proper clothes on."

*******

When my mother tugged off her scarf and coat inside the cosy local bistro I'd picked for our impromptu date, my eyes popped out on their optic nerves. She was wearing a tight-fitting mini-dress in a shimmery riffled (she told me later it was called 'ruched') fabric that was thin enough to display her perky little tits and oh-so-suckable nipples as if she were nude.

"Wow, Mum!" I said, picking my jaw up off the floor.

She sat down looking embarrassed.

"What? Am I too mature for this dress?"

"I think maybe I'm too immature to sit opposite you without wolf-whistling and molesting myself under the table."

"Jeremy," she said with a tone of maternal disapproval.

"Sorry. I'll, er, calm down. In a minute. Probably."

She smiled indulgently at my wicked, lustful adoration and tried to act as innocent as a nun as she perused the menu. We talked of everything that didn't involve mentioning my dead dead-beat father. He was only noticeable by his absence from our thoughts. I was given all the latest news of my sisters and their fertile wombs, shunting out sprogs like there was no tomorrow. Mum enjoyed immensely being Nana to all these tiny snot-faced demons.

After the meal, we stood outside the small restaurant and muffled ourselves against the night. She pulled out a smartphone and I posed with her for a selfie that she shared with my sisters.

"So..." I said, "Would you like to do something else?"

I was totally unprepared for her answer.

Casually, as she pocketed her phone, she said, "I wondered if you would mind if I slept with you."

In my dreams she had said this to me a hundred times but, recently, not in reality. I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly.

"If you have other plans? Perhaps with Sarah?"

"No, I don't."

"I wanted to spend some time remembering our first night together. Maybe re-enacting it?"

"That was pretty exhausting," I recalled.

This magical, smoking hot milf leaned in close and kissed me.

"I'll try not to be too tough on you," she whispered.

I couldn't get her back my place quick enough. If it had been a warmer evening I may even have dragged her down an alley and fucked her up against a wall, my passion being so inflamed. I slotted that imagery away in my bank for a later lonely night. Back at my tiny flat, I made us both an instant coffee, which she said was nice (this being Mum code for absolutely awful) and we thawed out from the outside glacial temperature. She wandered around my grubby bedroom as my inadequate oil heater failed to warm us up.

"I hope you don't mind me being here," she said, holding on to the coffee cup for warmth.

"Of course I don't. I'm just trying not to be so over-excited about it. I've missed you."

"I miss you too, but I hope you understand why I said what I did?"

"I have tried," I said, standing behind her with my arms around her waist, "I've dated girls who remind me of you, who look like you; dark hair, dark eyes, perfectly shaped."

I squeezed her gently and she snuggled back into my embrace.

"I've become friends with girls who have your personality-"

"What's my personality?" she asked.

"Sweet. Kind. Nice."

"Sounds dull!" she snorted.

"I did try to seduce an older woman," I kissed the nape of her neck, smelling her delicate fragrance, "I've been with girls who are the complete opposite of you, like Sarah."

"You mean, she's pretty?"

"I'll ignore that fishing for compliments. No, I mean, you know, blonde, vulgar, big..."

"She had a bit of tummy but I wouldn't call her big," Mum had just a touch of acidic jealousy in her tone which I liked, it meant a little part of her was still mine.

I slid my hands up to her breasts.

"I meant here," I said softly.

"True, I was never overly blessed in the chest department but... no I shouldn't say it."

"What?" I asked, groping her as I rained kisses on her bare shoulder.

"It's unkind to say so but friends of my age, with bigger boobs, they, well... they're sagging quite visibly. Tiny titties age better I think."

I pulled down the front of her dress.

"Your tits aren't tiny they're... they're flawlessly perky."

I held her bare breasts in my hands, her stiffening nipples tickling the centre of my palms. She unpeeled my hands from her and sat down on my bed. She crossed her legs, my heart danced as I watched her dainty nylon foot dangle her stiletto. The hem of her dress was dangerously high.

"Strip," she said.

"What?"

My topless mother sipped her coffee, pulled a face of displeasure at the taste, then waved her hand at me.

"Strip. Un-dress. I haven't seen you in a long time."

I gulped. Feeling very self-conscious, I started to yank off my clothes.

"Slow down, let me enjoy watching you," she said.

Eventually, I stood before her, completely nude. She beckoned me closer with her curled finger. She ran her hands over my stomach; she stroked my back, my thighs, my bum. She pulled me even closer to kiss my belly. She looked up at me and licked my skin.

"What did you think, when I first put your cock in my mouth, Jeremy?"

"I, I didn't think anything. My mind went blank."

"Were you very surprised?"

"Astounded is more the word. You were, and are, the woman of my dreams."

"Awwww, baby, thank you."

She lowered her face and kissed my hanging, swelling prick. She stood up, still sailing her hands over my clammy skin.

"How did you know I had a massive crush on you?" I asked.

"We were always close. As you grew older, the way you looked at me changed. As a young, virile, red-blooded man you looked at me the way men look at women. I knew."

She kissed me, holding me tight. Our nipples played against each other.

"I've always wanted to say," I said, looking into the dark cosmos of her eyes, "If you wanted comfort from me, solace, whatever... you didn't have to sleep with me. I would've been there for you, without the, er..."

"Sex?"

"I could only think of ruder words but, yes, sex."

"I did want comfort from you. This is true," she nuzzled into my neck, her hands snuck down to toy with my fully erect penis that was prodding her tummy, "But I also wanted to feel like a woman again. Not a mother. Or a wife, or a widow. I wanted to kiss, and cuddle, and suck and lick and, well, I wanted to fuck."

She looked at me, concern written across her pretty face.

"I'm afraid I used you, that night," she said.

"I didn't feel used. I felt on top of the world."

"Well, in that case, you won't mind if, just for tonight, I use you again? Even after I said we shouldn't?"

"Mum... there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. Even something as un-enjoyable as sex with a magnificent babe. I'll even put up with that, for you."

We looked at each other, lost in an unimaginable closeness.

"Will you? Endure the ordeal of making love with me?"

"If you don't stop tugging on my cock, though, it may end sooner than we'd hope."

We both looked down to watch her hand instinctively stroking back and forth on my engorged prick.

"Your turn to strip," I said, "For me."

She gave my cock one last squeeze before releasing it from her grasp. I sat on the bed as she pulled the dress back up over her tits so she could unzip it properly. She shimmied the dress down her body while flashing me her sly, slightly shy smirk. Underneath her dress she was wearing a pair of skimpy lace panties the colour or red wine and those very dark black stockings that been capturing my attention all evening. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her glamorous knickers.

"Leave them on," I said, "They look so cute on you."

"I'd better not," she shook her head, blushing, "I've already made them nastily wet and they're too expensive to stain."

She peeled them down her soft nylon legs and stepped out of them. Dressed only in her heels and hose, she held the silky crotch to her nose, smelling her own arousal.

"You see, I've been thinking about you all day," she said, "I've been all tingly with anticipation about seeing you for days now."

"Really?"

I knew I was no oil painting, what on Earth did she see in me? She dropped her luxury undies on my table and rubbed her furry cunt for me to see how shiny and wet she was. She smelled and then licked her fingers clean. I moaned in an agony of desire. My balls were tightening. Surely I can't ejaculate from just watching my sexy mum, can I? I hoped not, that would be far too embarrassing.

She folded her dress neatly, laid it on the back on my only chair and stood in front of me. She lost about three inches of height when she stepped out of her stilettos. My prick proudly pointed to the heavens in salute to her naked wonder.

"Mum," I gasped, blatantly in awe of her, "I don't think I'll ever find anyone like you."

"Awww, shush," she said and pushed me on to my back on the bed. She climbed on top of me and before I could think another thing, her mouth was sucking on me. I closed my eyes and groaned in rapture as she swirled her tongue around my cockhead. Her hands roamed over my body as she bobbed her head on my dick. I pushed up into her wanton mouth. It was all too much, the arousing images and emotions flooding me were overwhelming.

"Stop, stop, stop, I don't want to cum yet!"

She took my advice and eased her wet mouth off my cock. She looked at me with the sluttiest smile I'd ever seen; her eyes sparkled like coal. She knew I was hooked.

She swung her leg over my chest and sat on me. If this had been Sarah's bulky body sitting on top of me then I would've been in trouble but my mother's petite frame was a pleasure to support. She peeped down at me over the creamy flesh landscape of her boobs and belly and furry mound.

"Am I a very bad mum?"

"You're the worst."

"I can get much, much worse."

"I don't believe you."

"Watch me."

Mum edged forward, lifted her body a fraction, used her fingers to spread her luscious pussylips (a picture indelibly etched into my memory) then squished her hot damp cunt on my mouth. I devoured her. My tongue poked and swirled and explored as she ground herself on my face. Whenever I discovered an area within her smooth walls that I could feel drove her crazy, I'd focus my activities there for a few minutes before darting off to find another sweet spot. I could hear she was talking to me but her thighs were pressed hard on my ears, the delicate lace hold-ups rubbing softly against my cheeks. I sailed my hands over all I could reach from my prone position, particularly enjoying the contrast between her smooth, soft skin and the fabric of her stockings.

When my jaw began to ache I would take a break and use my nose to torment her hard little button before recovering my energy and diving again inside her with my probing tongue. Her pussy was flowing a lovely warm fluid that I drank down eagerly. I was lost in time. I licked and sucked and lapped and slobbered and every second felt amazing. I could feel my hard untouched cock throbbing away as it waggled like a flagpole.

Whenever I made my mother shudder and cry out it was like finding a diamond in amine. I loved this woman so much that to give her pleasure was an unconditional joy. I adored every jittering climax I gave her. After some time had elapsed the shuddering, quivering climaxes had fewer pauses between them and I sensed Mum was building up to an orgasm so I made an extra effort to stimulate her. My jaw was sore, my tongue felt ragged, my neck was cramped, I was suffocating slightly, her fingernails dug into my scalp as she held my hair. Her thighs compressed my head even tighter. I heard her voice. A gush of creamy sexy hot cum suddenly filled my mouth. I had never tasted anything like it. Direct from my mother's internal source, I drank her delicious juices like it was a life-giving nectar.

She rolled off my face and snuggled down to hold me. Her eyes were staring at nothing, her mind seemed absent. Her body would be still and then suddenly wracked by a serious of tremors that made her smile wickedly. I pulled my blanket up over us both as our sizzling naked flesh began to return to room temperature. She lay with her head in the crook of my arm and looked at me with sleepy, drugged eyes.

"I love you, Jeremy."

I felt like the luckiest boy alive. She reached up and touched my honey-smeared face with her fingertips.

"You have my cum all over you," she smiled.

I had no words, I just gazed in adoration.

"I think, maybe, it's time you got on top of me," she teased, "I've done all the work so far, lazy boy."