I was twenty-two years old when I first slept with my mother. It was a surreal and completely unexpected experience. It began with a phone call from my Aunt Doreen. She broke the news that Great Aunt Judy was in the hospital and unlikely to pull through. Mum was visibly upset and made immediate plans to visit Judy, who lived in Hastings, a seaside town on the English Sussex coast. Dad was away on business, and Mum didn't drive, so I offered to take her.
Mum worked the phone and the internet to book hotel rooms. It was the height of the holiday season, and the UK was experiencing a mini heatwave, so I wasn't optimistic, but she persevered and struck lucky. A late cancellation meant we could at least have one room. It had separate twin beds and was only for two nights, so Mum took it. Her focus was Judy, not hotel rooms.
As it is for most kids, Mum to me was just 'Mum.' She was the person who looked after me, comforted me, and, more often, shouted at me. To others, Deborah was an attractive woman with a generous and lively personality in her late forties. She was around 5'5" with shoulder-length sandy hair that framed a warm and open face, enhanced by a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Mum was curvy but not slim and was generous in bust and bum. She was easy to talk to but had a sharp tongue when required.
My father, Peter, was a year or two younger and worked for an oil company. Business kept him away for weeks at a time. I took after him physically. We were both 5'10", with thick brown hair and a slender build, which Dad retained as he got older. He liked to keep himself in shape. He was serious and practical, whereas Mum was outgoing and spirited. Looking back, I think Mum struggled with Dad's somewhat dour attitude at times.
We were an ordinary, well to do, middle-class family living in Kingston-upon-Thames. The only family member missing at this time was Jenny, my elder sister by two years, who was doing work experience in Scotland--she was training to be a vet.
I had no such grand ambitions. I worked in the City intent on earning my fortune or at least a good life! A commodity trader was my poison, and I was proving to be good at it. My colleagues said I didn't suck, which was high praise.
I picked Mum up on Friday morning and drove down to Hastings, arriving just after one. There was no drama at the check-in. The girl behind the desk couldn't have been more disinterested if she had tried.
"Jake and Deborah Evans," I told her as I looked around. In terms of décor, the hotel had seen better days, but it was cheap and clean.
The first snag was the double bed that greeted us. Mum was annoyed, so I offered to see if we could get it changed.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Jakey."
"It's big enough. We can keep our distance!" I joked. We had shared chalets and caravans as a family, so close proximity wasn't a big deal for me.
"I guess we can. At least it has a bathroom for us to change in. They got that right, at least!"
That settled, we unpacked and went to lunch. The hotel had a carvery attached to it, and the fare was pretty good. Mum and I chatted away, and I sank a few pints, and she a glass of wine. Mum had planned to see Judy tomorrow and spend time with her. I planned an escape to the Brighton match at 3 pm.
We returned to the room, and both of us flaked on the bed. I woke around six and went to the bathroom. The pints were making a reappearance. Mum was awake and sitting up when I came out.
"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.
"Just gone six. You hungry?"
She shook her head and headed to the bathroom. I was in a quandary about what to do with the evening. Inspiration struck, and I checked cinema listings. A movie meant no conversation and passed the time.
I put the idea to her, and she brightened up.
"That sounds like fun!"
I booked two seats online for the 7:30 showing of the latest summer blockbuster movie, and we stepped out in high spirits. Mum took my arm as we parked up and strolled to the complex. Buckets of popcorn and fizzy drinks were our dinner, and we had a fun time. The movie was pretty good, too.
We got back around 10:30, and Mum bagged the bathroom to get ready for bed. I want to say she came out looking stunning, but her face cream and knee-length cotton nightwear were what I expected. Truthfully, I didn't give her a single glance as she climbed in, and I took my turn in the bathroom.
She was reading a book as I came out in my t-shirt and boxers, and she didn't give me a single glance either. I climbed in next to her, and that was the first time I found the situation a bit weird.
"Do you mind if I read for a bit?" she asked.
"Nope." I picked up my phone and the weird moment passed.
Mum dozed off first, and I removed the book and turned off the light.
And this was the first I time I slept with my mother.
****
And that should have been that. Except I woke around four am to find myself partially spooning Mum. My body had reacted as you would expect to the soft warmth of a female body, and my dick was pressing into her ample rear. My first reaction was panic. Second was move and move now! Third was don't move in case you wake her up! Logic was not my forte at four in the morning especially with my erection prodding Mum's arse.
I pulled away slowly. She didn't move. Her breathing was soft and steady. Don't, for God's sake, do what you are now tempted to do! Yeah, right. Name me a twenty-two-year-old lad with a hard on and going through a dry spell that listens to good sense? Carefully, I pushed back into Mum. The warm softness of her bum through the cloth felt good. Still no reaction.
Okay, so far, so good. What next, Jakey?
Now, that was a good question. Don't move was the obvious answer. Except I now want to rub myself against her. Maybe just a little bit? No, that won't work. I move my hand onto my cock and start squeezing, then rubbing it. Christ! I am so turned on right now! But whatever you do, don't cum! Last time I wanked off was two days ago, which is a lifetime as far as my junk is concerned.
Mum stirred, then settled down again. I froze in place, counted off a minute, and began wanking again. I debated if I could pull her nightie up. Fucks sake! This is your Mum! Yes, your Mum, with her plump juicy arse, whispered the reckless voice. I'm now edging closer, trying to gauge the last second to pull away. It was going to be close--it wasn't close. A fraction before I could turn away, I spurted a thick wad over her nightie and smeared what was left over the covering sheet. Fucking fuck! You fucking moron! My heart was hammering, and I was sick to my stomach. There is going to be hell to pay for this. I used my t-shirt to wipe cum off the sheet, then peeled it off and stuffed it under my pillow. I mean, why? Why did I do that? I'm on the verge of tears, and sleep was impossible. The morning and my impending doom awaited.
Next thing I knew it was morning.
Chapter Two
Mum was already up and in the bathroom, no doubt wringing a gallon of cum from her nightie. I panicked afresh and wondered why my t-shirt was under my pillow. I panicked again and teetered on the verge of a heart attack. I jumped out of bed, found a clean t-shirt, and stuffed the other in a plastic bag. I got back into bed just as Mum reappeared. She was already dressed.
"Wondered when you would wake up!" she smiled. "Bathroom is all yours."
"Yeah, sure, thanks." I grabbed clean underwear and jeans and ran into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet for five minutes, used it, and then sat down again. Mum seemed okay. Maybe she was lulling me into an ambush. I brushed my teeth, dressed and came out cautiously.
Mum was sitting on the bed, checking her phone. She looked up at me and smiled. I braced myself.
"Breakfast? I'm starving!" she said brightly. The woman was inscrutable!
