In what was only just above a whisper, my mother said, “I’m not young like Brooke.”
“No, you’re different,” I said, “but you’re still beautiful, mum.”
I could tell she was close to balking. My mother was anxious, scared to show herself naked, comparing herself to her younger sister, my aunt who was closer to my age than hers.
“You have to say that, Alan. You’re my son.”
Sighing, exasperated, I walked around the bed. “But it’s still true. So what if you’re older? You take care of yourself. You’re pretty, got lovely hair … And I think your boobs are fantastic, mum. You’ve got a great body. You should be proud. Look,” I said, grabbing my dick. “Doesn’t this give you a clue about how sexy I think you are?”
My mother giggled when she looked at my length. Then, expression melting, eyes going vague, she breathed, “That’s a gorgeous cock. My baby’s grown up now, isn’t he? Big and strong and handsome.”
“Touch it, mum,” I said, keeping my voice low and hypnotic. “Feel how hard it is.”
My mother let out a sigh, fingers enclosed around my girth.
She stroked it and muttered, “Do you really want me to take off my nightie?”
Through a groan of pleasure, I said, “I really do, mum. Naked together. In your bed … We can pretend we’re married,” I breathed at the end, kissing my mother again.
Like before, the suggestion we could be a couple — a husband and wife — had an effect.
“That’s so lovely,” cooed my mother, smiling at me. “All right,” she added, breaking away. “But don’t forget, I’m not as young as Brooke.”
My mother moved away a few paces. She went towards the bed, stopped, threw a look over one shoulder, and then slid one skinny bootlace strap down her arm. She kept her back to me, the other strap slipping down so the whole diaphanous nightie whispered to the floor.
In an unthinking act, I started to crank my cock, thrilled by the shape of my mother from behind.
With her head still turned towards me, her eyes went wide. Then she trilled a surprised, “Oh God, look at you!”
“Look at you,” I croaked in reply. “Gorgeous,” I breathed.
“Don’t waste that,” my mother said, nodding towards my cock.
I let go and went to her, arms encircling her waist, my hard-on squeezed into the crease between her buttocks.
“That’s nice,” whispered my mother when I held her close and nuzzled her neck.
“You really are beautiful, mum,” I said, cupping her breasts.
In that intimate moment I adored my mother. I felt close to her in a way that was paradoxically familiar and strange at the same time. We bonded on an emotional level, her bare skin warm all down my front as I thumbed her nipples and my mother gasped, squirming against me, pre-cum smearing over her back and the cheeks of her bottom.
“All right, I believe you,” she said, twisting within the embrace. My mother smiled into my face, eyes on mine while she jacked at my length, boobs squashed against my chest.
Urgent with the need to get inside my mother, I mumbled, “Can we do it now, mum?”
She nodded, fervent, eyes shining. “Yes please,” she said.
When my mother pulled back the cover and then lay on the bed to offer herself missionary style, I couldn’t see why she’d been so reluctant to show herself nude. She was like her sister, a bit wider through the hips and softer in the tummy, heavier at her bust, but just as hot as Brooke. Maybe even more sexy because of her years. My mother wore her maturity well. Somehow classy regardless of the lewd manner in which she flaunted her sex.