Inspired by Ricky
It was about 11 am on a Monday morning during my summer break from school, when I entered my house, slammed the door shut, and strode upstairs in a petulant and angry mood. I ignored the friendly voice of my Mum calling me from the kitchen, entered my room, stripped down to my jockey shorts, and climbed into bed and tried to forget about that last, humiliating hour.
After about a minute or so, I heard a knock at my door and Mum's concerned voice asking if I was OK. I turned away from the door and faced the wall by my bed, and told her that I wanted to be alone. Like all parents, Mum somehow interpreted this desire for isolation as an invitation to come in.
I felt her sit down at the edge of the bed beside me, and then she started to run her fingers through my hair and asked if she could help. When I remained silent, Mum asked if I'd fallen out with my best friend, Jimmy, last night. Since this did not gain a response, she announced triumphantly that she must be right. Just to get rid of her, I said that I hadn't fallen out with Jimmy, in fact I hadn't even stayed at his place last night. Mum pressed me further and, angrily, I told her that I had spent the night with a girl whose parents were away for the week. Mum went silent for a while and I guessed that she was hurt at the lie I'd told her yesterday about my plans for that evening. She finally spoke and said that she hoped I'd been careful. I laughed at that and said I'd taken the best possible precaution; I couldn't do it.
Mum began to inquire further and I told her to let it drop, as I felt uncomfortable talking to her about such matters. She said that anything between us would always be in the strictest confidence and that she might be able to help. When I still maintained a silence she asked if I would like to speak to Dad about it. That got my attention, as she knew it would, and I turned around, sat up and begged her not to say anything to him. Mum was fully aware of the recent rivalry that had developed between Dad and I, and he would surely humiliate me for months if he got to know about this.
Now that she had my attention, Mum said that all men have a problem getting stimulated at one time or another, and that it really wasn't anything to worry about, it was just nerves. I explained to her that I couldn't do it last night because I'd had too many beers. Mum gave me a scolding look, as I know she doesn't like me drinking. Then I went on to explain how I'd woken up this morning, really turned on, but that when I'd tried to make love to the girl, who was still half asleep, I couldn't get it in her. Mum gave a knowing, aaahhhhhh, and told me to stay where I was and she'd be back in a minute.
When she returned to her place on the bed beside me, I could see she was holding a lipstick in her hand, but had none on her lips. I wondered what it was all about. Then, Mum said that she had an educational game for us to play. She explained that she wanted me to use my thumb to try to force her lips apart. She said that she would resist my attempt, but not to any great degree. So, having pursed her full, round lips together, Mum invited me to have a go. I placed my right thumb on the join of her lips, and, announcing that this would be easy, tried to get it in her mouth. I struggled for about a minute to no avail. Eventually, having failed in my task, Mum stood up triumphantly, and walked over to the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bedroom door.
I watched Mum as she pouted her lips and applied a thick layer of crimson gloss to them. I saw Mum lick her lips slowly, before applying a second coat. My eyes went down her body. My mum is just like any other mum that you'd see in a supermarket or at the bingo or out with their husband at the movies. She's on the wrong side of forty, attractive but not beautiful, and the slim figure of her youth is now more rounded and curvaceous. But as I looked at her now from behind, the split in the back of her knee length skirt showing a bit of inner thigh, her calf muscles taut as she stood with legs slightly apart in a pair of black high heel pumps, I realised that I had a raging hardon and a huge desire to fuck her.
Mum came back to my bed and took her seat next to me. Suddenly, I was desperate to let her see the erection I had straining against my shorts. I guess it's the same feeling that flashers have when they expose themselves to strangers in the park. Mum was no stranger to me, of course, but it's the same idea of having somebody see those parts of you that they shouldn't. Mum said that for the second part of the game she wanted me to try the same thing again, but to see what happened now that she was wearing lipstick. In order that I could stand up in front of her, I made the excuse that I couldn't get enough leverage in this seated position.
Just before I got up, I wondered what Mum would do when she saw it. Would she become embarrassed and walk out, threatening to tell Dad? Would she even bother to glance at it? I couldn't wait to find out, so I threw back the bed sheets and stood up in front of her. I put my hands on my hips as nonchalantly as possible, as my dick strained to break free from its flimsy white cotton prison. I watched Mum's eyes as her gaze wandered down from my face to my pulsating weapon, not more than a foot in front of her. I had wondered whether she would even give it a glance, but here was my Mum, sitting on the bed, brazenly staring at her son's crotch. After a few seconds, I saw Mum's jaw drop and her lips parted. Whilst she stared at my enclosed penis, I took hold of the back of her head with my left hand, and inserted the middle three fingers of my right hand into her mouth and began to move them in and out, imagining that it was my dick. As Mum's tongue sensuously licked them, I guessed that she was thinking the same thing too.