I had returned to my bedroom, quietly closed the door and crept into bed in as usual ungarbed. Whilst still wondering what Mum was up to and what the hell was going in Dawn's head, I slipped into sleep.
As if in a dream, I became aware of a very soft movement near my thigh. Still very sleepy and only semi-conscious, I thought it was Janet, deciding to go down me, which was very rare, but enjoyable. She had, after all, first ensconced me with her mouth on my cock. My very sleepy mind jigged me into realizing that it wasn't and couldn't possibly be Janet.
The movement beneath the sheet, for that was all that was covering me, must have been and was, in fact, Mum.
I didn't react for some reason but remained still, half turned toward the bedside. In the dark I could just glint that Mum's head was under the sheet, she was wearing her nightie, kneeling on the floor. I could feel her soft fingers seeking out my cock under the sheet, followed by a wetness that must have been her tongue. Her fingers were deftly stroking my stem, just below my circumcised head. Her tongue, then her mouth enveloped my most sensitive part around the pronounced head that separated us from the uncut of this world.
Now very much awake, I had to decide what to do. Would I, as normal, place my hand round the back of her head to acknowledge and show my approval and appreciation of what she was doing, as would have happened with Janet or Ruth? Or would I remain passive and ostensibly asleep. By doing the former, would be to show Mum that blowing me was one of the most intimate and beautiful things she could do for me. By the latter, she would not know quite how I felt. Moreover, by not conveying recognition, it would also give her more leeway as to whether we openly acknowledged this level of intimacy or not.
I decided on the latter path. Her fingers and mouth are now having their effect. Even though she had caught me in orgiastic bliss on the phone with Ruth, just a few hours ago, her mouth and small fingers were having their way with me. My swelling resulted in more rapid finger strokes on her part as well as her spending more time concentrating her tongue on the underside of my head.
I still managed to remain still, sensing no hesitation on her part. I was even able to resist thrusting my hips, my normal response to a passive blow-job. It was a novel, yet arousing experience, just letting her do all the work.
As my cock rose to its full length, she took both hands to my stem, ensuring I didn't slide too far in her mouth. She was now in full swing, slurping her profuse saliva all round my head and beginning to suck harder at the same time. One of her hands sought my balls and clasped them tenderly. She affected a steady rhythm now not seeming to want to rush me, which was fine by me. Having cum recently, I could stay awhile in this state.
Why was she doing this to me and for me? In gratitude for my masturbating her following her tears and upset earlier? Was she seeking any port, following Dad's demise and Dawn's fury? Did she actually fancy her son sexually? That was obvious. She wouldn't have come near be like this if she didn't want sex and probably found me attractive and safe. Whatever, this was sheer bliss. I didn't feel at all guilty let her suck me off. This was a wonderful ending to the funeral and I would soak it for all it was worth.
But I now sensed urgency on her part. Her mouth was tightening round my head and her tongue gripped and slid up and down my underside at its most sensitive.
To maintain my passivity was going to be an almighty strain. She was going to accomplish her ends. What was I to do with my spunk? She had taken the choice from me and she was going to have it in her mouth unless she spat me out. I had no idea what she did with Dad or even if they did suck each other. But she was sucking me now and that was all that mattered. A deep suck on her part had its effect.
I blew, or rather, let it seep out with one huge internal relief. Usually, I am known for the loudness of my cums, but now that was repressed but still just beautiful in its suppressed energy and urgency on her part. She had come to get it and she now had got it in her mouth.
As soon as I came she removed her head from the sheet. I remained eyes closed but sneakily saw her walking silently away and closing my door behind her. Turning over, I drifted once again to sleep.
Waking late on Sunday morning, I felt damp below, I needed a morning pee. Then the realisation hit me. I had given her a slow masturbatory orgasm last night and she had come to me in the night and fellated me. my god, how were we to handle that, particularly as my masturbation of her was barely recognised and she had come to me and to all intents and purposes I could have had a wet dream but with no spunk! That amused me. But we still had a problem on our hands.
Washing and dressing informally in my track suit, I went downstairs about ten-thirty to find her fully dressed in the kitchen in rather dowdy clothes which hid her sexuality. Sweater and pants and slippers. No apparent stockings and no glimpse of her sexy breasts. Her physical appearance was matched by her mental stance, I very soon found. She passed the time of day, what she was doing the rest of the day, when supper would be ready and other necessary but avoiding tactics. She didn't give one glimmer of last night's sexual interludes. She didn't even refer to Dawn.
Apparent impasse. I decided, at least for this morning, to go along with her avoidance, at least until suppertime. I didn't know what I would do then, except to let it take its course.
Mum went out about twelve. I decided to remain indoors for the day. That's what I thought at the time anyway. Soon after Mum departed the phone rang. At first I thought to ignore it but it could have been Mum. In fact, it was Dawn.
"Is that Ian?"
"Hello Dawn, yes it's Ian."
"I see you are on your own Ian. Can I come and see you or would you like to come here?"
"Perhaps, I should come to you Dawn, don't you think?"
"Yes, Ian that's probably wise."
"When would you like me to come round Dawn?"
"How about now Ian?"
"I'll be five minutes dawn."
"Thanks so much. Bye for now."
Still in my track suit and trainers but not bothering with underwear, I knocked on her door. She opened it partially and standing mostly behind it, she invited me in. she was still in her night gear. But looked as if she had made some effort for my appearance, having presumably put some lipstick on and brushed her hair. She was wearing a silk dressing gown that came to her knees with a tight cord round her waist, making her breasts look rather fulsome. She wasn't wearing a bra for they did swing rather low in contrast to how I had previously seen her. I could just discern the outline of her nipples against the tightness of her gown because of that belt. Nice for a Sunday morning. At least for me. Best of all when she walked into the living room I noticed stockings, tights? In addition, she was wearing high heeled canvass shoes with ties round her raised ankles that added tautness to her calves. She had gone to some preparation for this meeting.
But I also noticed she had been crying a lot as her face was flushed and her eyelids heavy.
