My name is Harry. I'm 27 and, for the last five years, I've had an intense sexual relationship with my mom, Joan, who turns 50 next month.
I'm an average guy, five foot eight, 175 pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, nicely sculpted body from my work as a construction laborer. My mom is plus sized, five foot three, 185 pounds, not fat, just nicely full-figured, brown hair, brown eyes.
As the oldest of five kids, much older than my sister and three brothers, I was the closest to Mom. With Dad working a full-time job at night and doing as many odd jobs he could handle during the day and weekends, it fell upon me to help Mom out any way I could. I helped her keep the younger kids in line as well as helping her with anything she wanted or needed help with. At sixteen, with an old used car and license, I became the one who took Mom to all the places she wanted or needed to go.
Mom and Dad split when I was 21. I was living on my own now, but made it a point to keep in touch with Mom. Mom began inviting me over for supper a couple of nights a week and she'd ask me to stay until the kids went to bed.
We'd begin sitting together on the couch after the kids were asleep, talking about anything and everything under the sun. Mom said it was nice being able to hold a normal conversation with an adult, since she didn't have any real friends, thanks to Dad, and no family nearby.
It was several months into this routine that Mom felt comfortable enough to talk to me about her relationship with Dad, personal things that she had to talk about. I told her she didn't have to, but she felt she had to vent her frustrations or she'd burst.
She explained to me, in graphic detail, how Dad turned Mom's ideas or thoughts on a subject into an argument, some very heated, that Dad would always win. She talked about how Dad would embarrass and humiliate her in front of other people and how he controlled every aspect of her life. He bought her housedresses, always a size or two too big, to make her look like she wore circus tents. He controlled what she could buy at the grocery store and how the food was to be cooked and seasoned. Dad controlled the money and the bills, only putting enough in the bank to cover the checks and kept the rest in his pocket. He controlled who she was allowed to talk to in the neighborhood as well as who she could become friends with. Dad even controlled the sex, only when he wanted, only how he wanted, and only enough to get her wet enough for his needle dick, her words, only until he got off, then Dad would roll over and go to sleep. Mom told me that if she was in the mood that night, she'd quietly finish herself off, but usually didn't. Mom stated that she couldn't remember when or if Dad ever did give her the big O.
Mom grew very emotional as she got these things off her chest and I found myself trying to ease her pain by holding her hand and eventually slipping my arm around her back, rubbing her back slowly, gently. As Mom poured out her heart to me, she'd stop sometimes and cry. This happened several times over a number of nights.
One night she became extremely emotional and couldn't stop crying. She got up and went into the kitchen. I gave her a minute, the followed her. She stood facing the refrigerator, her hands covering her face, crying uncontrollably.
I walked up to her and placed my hands lightly on her shoulders. Mom turned to face me, big tears running down her face, and reached out for me. "Oh, Harry!", Mom said as her hands found my shoulders. She buried her face in my shoulder and continued crying. My arms slid around her and I began slowly rubbing her back, attempting to calm her.
She continued to cry, even as I whispered in her ear "I love you, Mom. I've always been there for you, I'm here for you now, and I'll be there for you until the day I die." "Thank you, Harry", Mom said over and over again.
Every now and then Mom would lift her head off of my shoulder and would kiss me on the lips. At first the kisses were those of a mom to her son. But as she calmed down, our kisses became longer, harder and deeper, the kind of kisses a man and woman share who love each other.
As our kisses deepened, Mom slowly pressed more and more of her full-figured body against mine. I felt her 42DD breasts pressed hard against my chest, her rounded stomach against mine. Our kisses were now very long and deep and our bodies reacted in what I consider to be a very natural way.
I felt Mom's nipples grow large and hard against me as our kisses were very erotic, mother and son. Her hard nipples against me woke my cock up, and as I swelled and grew long and hard and thick, my cock slid along Mom's upper thigh, then her puffy mound, then finally against her stomach. Mom sighed and now pressed herself even tighter against me.
