Foreword
Just so you don't waste your time on something that will disappoint you, this story features no monster cocks, watermelon sized breasts or pregnancies.
The sex takes a while to develop. if you're looking for hot action on the first page, you'd do better with most other stories.
Thanks in advance for reading and I do reply to comments.
Well this sucked. I was scoping out our new, tiny apartment which took all of ten seconds to absorb. My father, Bjorn, and mother, Rose, had recently spilt. I'm Anders, 19 years old, blond, 5'10" (178 cm) and a bit stocky. My mother was also blonde with a round face and a bit of extra weight on her hips and thighs. She had just turned 40 when my father walked out.
We'd been renting a small house but with our now reduced circumstances, my mother and I had moved into a cheap apartment. The living room and dining room were basically the same room and both the kitchen and bathroom were small. All the doors were cheap, not even wooden. Just some cheap panelling stuffed with what looked to be wood chips, judging by the gash in the bathroom door. At least there were two bedrooms.
My mother looked around and sighed. "Well Andy, this is going to be our life for the next little while."
She was already depressed so I didn't want to say anything too negative. "Don't worry Mom. We'll make the best of it. And Dad hadn't been very good company these past few years." That part was true. He'd grown increasingly withdrawn and irritable and I just tried to avoid him, which he seemed content with.
My mother on the other hand had always been cheerful and affectionate. She'd often touch my arm when we talked, there were lots of hugs and she greeted and bade farewell to family members with a brief kiss on the lips.
She smiled. "You're right Andy. He hadn't been and we'll be better off without him. But it's going to be a tough adjustment and I miss our old house already."
"Me too Mom, but it could have been worse." I didn't know exactly how but it seemed a comforting thing to say and she didn't challenge me on it. I gave her a hug and she hugged back strongly. Our bodies were pressed together and I could feel her breasts flattened out against my chest. Then I felt myself starting to get hard so I backed my hips away. I couldn't tell if she noticed but she broke the hug, caressed my cheek, tousled my hair and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
"Looks like you'll be the only one I can kiss for a while."
"That's OK Mom. Do you think you'll start dating anytime soon?"
"I don't know. It does seem too soon but I've always had a man in my life so I'll miss having that."
I could sort of imagine what "that" referred to but I didn't want to venture down that alley. Yoiks, it was my Mom.
In the next several days we began settling in. As this was a considerable downsize, there was a three-way split on our furniture. One part moved in with us, another got put into storage and the rest we sold. There was just enough money from my mother's pay to cover the rent and bills. Once my father started coming through with support payments, we'd be able to afford a car and then some small luxuries like the occasional restaurant and new clothes. In the meantime it was permanent home cooking and second hand shops.
A big drawback of the new place became evident in the first few days. I'd been doing my jerking off in the shower but at 19, once a day isn't always enough. So one night I was taking care of business in my bed. I'm not noisy but the bed wasn't completely silent, my breathing may have been elevated and then there was the "unghh" I let out when I came. No big deal; nothing to even notice; except just after that I heard my mother in her room softly cough. Fuck. These walls were more like amps.
I couldn't be sure she heard me but I assumed she knew I masturbated so even if she did, it shouldn't be that big a deal. Still, who wants their mother to know exactly when they're jerking off? And when they come.
I kept up with the shower routine and tried to be extra quiet at night. Mom never let on about anything so I didn't worry about it. Then one night I heard sounds coming from her room. Nothing loud but some audible panting and the occasional sloshing sound. Yikes, Mom was jerking off too. I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise but I'd never given a thought to her sexual side. Nor did I want to. But I could be as mature as she so I wouldn't mention it.
I didn't hear her again until a few nights later. This time I paid closer attention and found myself getting hard. Both the panting and sloshing seemed a bit louder and I started touching myself. And at that age genital touches are like Pringle's Potato Chips. One is never enough. So I started jerking off too and didn't pay any attention to the bed noises. When I heard a soft "ahhh" from her room, that pushed me over the edge and I answered with a muffled grunt.
In the morning and during the day life carried on as normal. She went to her job and I had classes at a city technical college. There I was majoring in law and real estate but I'd taken a culinary course as an optional seeing as how we had to cook all our own meals. My mother had also taken to giving my kisses in the morning as she left and in the evenings whenever we returned home. While they were on the mouth they didn't last long and there was nothing overtly sexual to them.
Nighttimes were a little different though. I soon figured out that if I went to bed a few minutes after her, it wouldn't take long before I heard her stroking herself. And while I had zero thoughts of getting sexual with her, her sounds always got me horny and I'd start jerking along with her. She never acknowledged that she could also hear me but I had to assume that she did.
I didn't want my mother sexually. I must have told myself that a thousand times. Geez, what guy (present company excluded) does? But with 19 year old hormone levels, hearing any woman touching her pussy is bound to turn you on. It did me. I'd imagine it to be some other woman but I couldn't always pull that off convincingly. After I'd come I'd always feel kind of squeamish but since there were never any consequences, I got used to it and over time the squeamishness diminished.
In the meantime I got a girlfriend. She was in my real estate class and we went to parties around the college. I couldn't afford to take her on real dates and we only had sex a couple of times -- once in someone's bedroom at a college party and once standing up in her parent's garage. She didn't seem too impressed at our digs the one time I invited her over for tea and she soon dropped me for some other guy in our class who drove a Mercedes.
My mother too had gotten into the dating world. There were a couple of one date onlies with jerks before she met one guy, Trevor, she seemed to care about. They'd gone out a few times when she eventually invited him back to our apartment. He was good-looking in a conventional way, sort of like an actor in a supporting role on a TV series. And he looked to be mid-30s so a few years younger than her.
Trevor seemed surprised at my age when we first met. "Hi Andy. You're older than I expected."
"Hello Trevor, nice to meet you. I sometimes act like an immature jerk so you must have been reckoning my age from some of my Mom's stories."
I have to admit I was impressed by what I came out with. Usually I get tongue-tied but I didn't take to the insinuation that someone must have been lying about my age. Or hers. I decided to make it an early night. "Classes". It wasn't long before I heard them in Mom's bedroom. Whispers and muffled voices that didn't sound especially amorous. When there was a moment of silence I decided to cough.
Then, slightly louder muffled voices. I couldn't make out what they were saying but I did hear him get up and exit the bedroom. At the door to our apartment I heard my mother say "Sorry Trevor, see you soon. Trevor's reply was less audible.
I remained in my bed and heard my mother sit down on the sofa. My room was adjacent to the living room and my bed and the sofa were against the same thin wall. For a few minutes all I could hear was my mother's breathing. Then, what sounded like soft, suppressed sobs. I felt I should do something but didn't want to intrude on a vulnerable moment. On the other hand, maybe she'd appreciate some support. After a bit of dithering, I got up and went to her. I was in my usual bedtime gear -- T-shirt and cotton pyjama bottoms with an elastic waistband and no opening at the crotch. Comfortable enough but it meant I had to pull them down to piss and they did a horrible job at hiding an erection. Fortunately that wasn't a concern at the present.
My mother looked up and I sat down beside her. She was in pants but with a pyjama top, as though Trevor had gotten her blouse off before leaving.
"Hi Mom. Is everything OK?"
Kind of a stutter sob. "No. Trevor left and I don't think I'll be seeing him again."
