Like almost all men, I had adolescent fantasies about having sex with my mother. As far as I can recall, she was the first woman I thought about sexually and was definitely the one in my thoughts the first time I masturbated. As a boy, however, I never would have thought that these fantasies would come true when I was a very young man.
It happened in the summer of 1983, when I was twenty. It was between university years for me and to save money, I had given up my apartment and moved in with my mother until the new school year. I knew it would be a bit cramped, as she had only a one-bedroom apartment and I would be sleeping on the fold-out couch. But that was fine as my mother and I had always gotten along.
She was older than most parents of twenty year olds, having given birth to me when she was forty. I was very much a surprise for my mother and father. She was a small woman, once quite pretty but now, truth be told, well on her way to being a typical old lady, with her once dark brown hair mostly grey and her body bulging in the wrong places. But she was still my mom and I loved her. And, incidentally, I still fantasized about her.
Yes, I have always had a fascination with much older women. I’m not certain if this was because I wanted to do it with my mom from and early age and transferred my attraction to other women of similar age, or vice versa. My first time was with a friend of my mom’s who was in her fifties at the time. I was… Well, I was much too young to mention my age here!
By this time, my parents had separated. It was hard on both of them but especially my mother, who had never been on her own. She was, she told me, glad that I was going to university in the same city, and happy to have me stay with her over the summer.
It took me by surprise when it happened. It was a spontaneous occurrence – to a certain extent. I must admit that when it started to unfold, I did help it along. But you’ll see that for yourself.
It was a Saturday night. I had been out with some friends, going to a movie, then to our favourite hang-out, a diner that let relatively poor young people occupy booths all night and drink coffee. But this night, I felt a little guilty over leaving my mom home to watch television by herself, so I returned early and we played cards for a couple of hours. We turned in about the same time, which was unusual for us, as I almost always stayed up much later than she. Another unusual circumstance was the fact that I was not going to be sleeping on the sofa-bed this night. It was an old piece of furniture with a thin mattress that resembled an ocean frozen in the midst of a storm, with bulges and swells, dips and rolls everywhere. Springs stuck out like Albert Einstein’s hair and sleep came more often from exhaustion than comfort. I didn’t want to complain because neither Mom nor I could afford a replacement. But when she saw the condition of the dinosaur on which I had to rest each night, she suggested that I share her queen-sized bed with her from then on, as long as it was all right with me.
So Saturday night, or more accurately, Sunday morning, about one o’clock, we both went to bed. I was messing about with the alarm clock – Mom always got up relatively early on Sundays to go to church – while she undressed. I’m a man and so I naturally have a tough time looking away when a woman disrobes in my presence. My back was supposed to have been turned, but I couldn’t help catching glimpses of my wonderful parent.
“You shouldn’t really look at me when I get undressed, Kevin,” Mom said, a smile in her voice if not on her face. She had, as far as I knew, no desire to have sex with her son, and so the comment was not meant to imply the opposite. It was a simple statement.
“I’m an adult, Mom,” I said lightly in response. “I have seen women’s bodies before.”
This gave Mom pause, as she was slipping her nightie over her otherwise naked form.
“Yes, I suppose you have,” she said distractedly, as though this had not occurred to her before. Her face was still thoughtful as she slipped into bed.
I was humorously surprised that after all these years, Mom still wore the same nightie she’d worn when I was a boy. It was a flimsy thing, filmy not through design but, I think, through use. A light, translucent blue it was, with marginally thicker embroidery in front of the breasts and pussy. The thought of it, never mind the sight of it, started to arouse me, and by the time I began removing my clothes, I had a stiff erection to equal any of the best I’d had before.
This was not a problem for me, I believed, since Mom had turned off the bedside light, throwing the room into darkness. I had neglected the window, however, which was illuminated like a white square thanks to the bright full moon shining that night. As I pulled down my pants, my under-shorts came with them (an occurrence not uncommon, as most men will testify). My cock sprang out in full glory, silhouetted against the window’s light.
Now, you might say that this was considered by me to be a good thing, since I truly wanted to fuck my mother. But the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass her, and if I couldn’t have one without the other, I’d do without both. I quickly pulled up my under-pants and crawled into bed. I could feel the heat from Mom’s blushing.
“Sorry about that, Mom,” I whispered.
“That’s all right, Kevin,” she answered. “Like you told me, you’re an adult. These things happen.” Then she said something unexpected, and she attributed it afterward to the awkwardness of the moment, and the need in her mind to say something that would ease the situation. “You’re pretty big down there, kid.”
That’s when it came to me that this might be my moment. Up till then, I hadn’t plan anything, hadn’t believed anything would happen. Now, chance was replaced by design.
“Thanks, Mom.” I let half a minute go by as we lie near each other in the dark. “Am I bigger than Dad?”
A pause just as long followed before Mom responded. “I…I don’t know, Kevin.”
“It’s important to me, Mom. I’d like to know.” In fact, it wasn’t important to me. At seven inches, I was neither long nor short, but I had satisfied a fair number of women already in my life, most with a good amount of experience of other men, so size did not concern me at all. But Mom didn’t know that.
“I don’t know, son… I didn’t see enough…” Mom was hesitant in her words but I could tell that she believed I needed an answer.
“Can you tell? Please? Maybe… Can you just feel it and see?”
“Oh…” It took almost a minute before Mom could bring herself to agree. She reached out under the covers and brushed her hand against my hard cock. She breathed in deeply when she felt it and I, wanting to be helpful, took her hand and put it on the large ridge running up my underwear. “Oh…”
“Mm.” I made a little sound and shifted my body to make it clear to my mother that I wanted her to do precisely what she was doing. She was slowly moving her fingers up my dick and though she was ostensibly trying to gauge its size, she realised that she was making me feel good. As a mother, she knew this to be wrong, but also as a mother, she wanted to give pleasure to her boy.
I reached out and let my hand glide over her right breast under its almost non-existent nightie. Mom breathed in sharply and moved to take her hand away from my dick. My left hand caught her wrist and replaced her fingers.
“It’s okay, Mom. It’s nice. It’s so nice.” While I said this, I continued to massage her tit. It was small and almost flat on her chest but I could feel the nipple growing.
“We can’t, Kevin. We shouldn’t…” Her hand retreated; reluctantly, I thought.
“No one will know, Mom. We’re just touching a little. It feels so good.” I slipped closer to her on the bed. “No one can see us.”
I took her hand again and moved it back to my aching cock. In the meantime, I had pushed my shorts down, so that now there was nothing between Mom’s fingertips and my swollen dick. I folded her fingers around my erect organ and heard her gasp. My grip on her wrist kept her hand where it was.
“Is it bigger, Mom?
“What?…”
“Is it bigger than Dad’s?”
“Oh…” Mom seemed confused but eventually said, “Yes, yes, I think it is…”
