“Don’t call me by my name baby, I am your mummy and I always will be.” I told him.
I climbed on the bed, lay back and like a cheap slut I opened my legs to him. Tom slid down and stopped, his face and hot breath mere inches from my vagina. Other people would consider oral sex to be playing around and having intercourse to be the major step. I was finding it all the opposite way round. Kissing my son was tremendously intimate and personal, sucking his cock had been an illicit thrill.
Now as Tom touched me and examined me, running his fingers over my outer lips, then grazing his fingertips across the wet sensitive folds that protected my inner, intimate place, I found it incredibly intimate and arousing. I also found it, surprisingly, a little embarrassing, for my own son to see me so close up and to examine me like he was.
I had opened my legs and let him enter me, yet this was somehow so much more intimate and profound.
Tom kissed me and tasted his mummy’s pussy for the first time. We simultaneously took a deep breath and sighed. My son licked and caressed and stimulated my vagina and clitoris incredibly tenderly, he brought me slowly to the boil. Sucking my tiny lips, stretching them and drawing them between his tormenting lips and gently sucking my clitoris into his mouth whilst flicking the hard trembling button, I came in his mouth.
As my head rocked from side to side and my body arched up from the bed thrusting my desperate convulsing pussy against his tormenting tongue, I came. Screaming and begging him not to stop, calling his name and crying with pleasure, I had an incredible climax given to me by my son.
Yet again after a period of rest, Tom and I made love before sleeping in each others arms.
Much to Tom’s despair I put into place the decision I had made.
I became his mother again.
I deliberately talked to him and treated him as my son. I would berate him for not tidying his room, I would tell him off for leaving things lying around and generally be his proper mother again. For the next few days I avoided sexual relations and situations with my son. I went to bed and locked my door which drove him insane with frustration and desire. I knew how he felt, the outside world was locked out and two people who were in love with each other were on opposite sides of the wall. Why couldn’t we be together all the time and not waste a single precious moment of life in separation.
There were different reasons for me keeping our relationship on a mother and son basis.
I was not yet ready to be ‘his woman’ he was still my son and I had to have his best interests at heart and not concentrate on my own hedonistic needs. I was also worried that the more ‘normal’ we became around each other, we could one day possibly make an absentminded gesture towards each other in public, an ill considered pat on the bum for example, which could lead to our downfall and our destruction.
The third reason was a very worrying and disturbing one. As my son and I had become lovers there was one thing that became clear to me, I didn’t want my son to be my husband, my man or my lover, that was why I didn’t want to be called Rebecca by him. I realised with consternation that I wanted and needed the sexual activity and love making we indulged in, to be incestuous.