On the day my story starts I had just come from a meeting with my solicitor, where, after nearly three and a half years my deceased father's estate had been finally settled. In my favour! I was now the majority shareholder in a multitude of interlinked businesses, based across the world, and as such a very wealthy man. My mother now received a very generous allowance, and I also owned the house I was born in, and where mother still lived. All in all a good day.
To mark the occasion I decided mother and I would have a celebration - very privately - and therefore I collected a couple of bottles of my favourite wine from my "cellar", and drove to mother's.
Let me give you a little more background. I'm Peter Rowse, I'm 31 and the deputy principal of the Ashcombe Girls High School. My father had been a very successful entrepreneur who had created a world-wide empire, with offices across the world and bank accounts to match. It had taken those three-plus years to collate all his assets into one place, and now they were mine. My mother, Alice Rowse, had not needed to work for some years but had, in fact, acted as secretary to the local building society manager. Mother was 52, stood 5 foot 5 inches (without heels) and still had a very attractive body. To men anyway!
So, armed with the wine I knocked on the door of what was legally now my house and was delighted when mother opened it looking every inch the sexy "older" woman. After our hugs and kisses I followed her through to the lounge and sat her down on the settee, taking an armchair for myself. She already knew the details of today's court appearance and had glasses waiting - I poured us both a generous amount and raised my glass: "to us, mother, settled at last"
She echoed this sentiment and took a healthy swallow. I sipped the smallest amount of mine. For some 15-20 minutes we talked through what our newfound wealth might allow us to do, with my mother needing a couple of top ups.
Basking in this euphoria I stood up and went to look out of the window, and began a series of reminiscences about my upbringing, all favourable to the house and to my mother's care. She agreed with my praise, and added some memories of her own. As we spoke she got up and joined me at the window, admiring the garden she had mostly created on her own. All the while mother was sipping her wine.
By now, reader, you will have gathered I was up to no good - and my plan was progressing beautifully.
Turning to the room I regaled mother with a story of how I remembered sitting on her lap as a very small boy, night after night, as she read me a story, and I strolled back to the armchair. As I sat down mother refreshed her glass and turned towards the settee. "No, mother, come here. Sit on my lap for a change." With only a second of hesitation she plumped herself on my lap, laughing at the incongruity of it - mother on son's lap!!
Her bottom was now pressing down on my cock - my intention all along of course - and her mood was what used to be known as gay. I knew she didn't hold alcohol too well, and the behaviour was reflecting that. As she took another mouthful of wine I pressed my face into her neck and kissed her, nibbled on her ear, and began to run my hand through her hair. She giggled and turned her head as if to warn me off, but I simply kissed her neck and she turned to face me.
"Petey, you can't...oh" she gasped as my lips met hers. For a couple of seconds there was a frozen reaction, and then she actually kissed me back, her lips soft on mine. Holding her hair to prevent her turning away again I ducked my head and again nuzzled her neck and ear. Mother made a curious noise in her throat, and wriggled slightly to turn her body a little more towards me. My cock was hard, and I wondered if she could feel it on her bum. She seemed not to, and her mouth reached for mine.
As our lips met, both mouths slightly open, she stopped. "Oh Peter, we can't do this" she whispered. I ignored the words and pressed my mouth to hers. Mother just relaxed into my arm, which was around her shoulders, and allowed me to push my tongue into her mouth. The kiss now took on a life of its own, Our tongues jousted with each other in an attempt, it seemed, to reach down the throat. Mother had my left arm around her, and now my right hand came to life. I ran my fingers down her thigh and reached her left buttock. Without hesitation I took a firm hold of her bum, and began to gently caress her, feeling through her dress that she wore panties and nothing else.
Mother didn't hesitate. The kissing continued as she squirmed around a little, allowing my hand to brush her right buttock. My cock was as hard as I can ever recall it being but again she seemed not to notice. I actually believe that at that moment I could have pushed her legs part and touched her panties as they tightly crossed her crotch. But my plan was different.
I removed my hand from her bottom and allowed it to drift back up towards her breasts, at all times with enough pressure that she knew what I was doing. No hands came round to stop me. Instead she began to run her left hand over my face, and the kisses got wetter! As I actually stopped my hand just beneath her left breast she fluttered her hand at me, and managed a few words. "Petey, oh...Petey, this is...oh you're turning me on. Pleas...." I had what I wanted.
"Mother, this is exactly what you need after the last few months. Just go with the flow."
Mother made a noise in her throat, but no real words came out. My hand was still just below her left breast and I now moved it up and took a firm grip. Through the material of her blouse I could feel a bra, a bra that confined a rather plump titty. I was almost ready to move to the next stage of my plan, but first I could not resist fondling her tit, and feeling her rumbling in her throat. Mother was in ecstasy. My hand squeezed and twisted her bra-covered tit and mother wriggled her bottom. My cock was now getting close to an orgasm. Not yet, I thought, not yet.
For several minutes we kissed - snogged really - and my hand held her titty. No further words from her, just what appeared to be lust. I let my hand release her tit, and she stopped kissing me to gaze wildly at me. "Petey, I mean it. You're...oh hell...you're turning your mother on. Touch me, please!"
Internally I smiled. Externally I rested my hand on my thigh and stared into her eyes. "Mother, open your blouse."
Silence for a few seconds. "I mustn't. It's wrong. You're my son." She looked right back at me, like a deer in the headlights.
