My Son and Me

The years went by My Son and Me. Peter went to uni, then got a great job with an investment bank, things between John and I deteriorated to the point that we got divorced and a few months after Peter got transferred to Dubai and Sara went to uni. I was alone in a lovely apartment in London.

During his time at university and the first year with the investment bank I saw quite a lot of Peter as he came home fairly frequently from uni, mainly for friends’ parties and for football and cricket club events and lived with us when he first went out to work. Having him ‘on tap’ as it were gave me a range of feelings and emotions. A straightforward mother’s pleasure at seeing a lot of her son; that was natural and pure. But then there was the unnatural and somewhat impure when I imagined what we could do together and when I recalled the thoughts I had about him as I had sex with those younger guys. Most of the time I was able to cope ok, but then something would trigger me off, perhaps when I was ironing his clothes or tidying his room or when I saw an attractive young man when I was shopping or at the gym. Then, my mind recalled the sex with ‘my conquests’ and how when doing it with them I imagined it was Peter. And of course, other events from the past regularly came into my mind.

That time at my fortieth where John had let me down about going to the Ritz and Peter had consoled me to the point that I thought we were going to kiss. When we danced at my anniversary and he held me in a completely, non-son/motherly way squashing my breasts against his chest and I felt the movement of an erection; the afternoon he came home unexpectedly and I was lying topless on my back in the garden. I looked up and our eyes caught. We both smiled. His eyes zeroed in on my breasts. I froze. I didn’t know what to do. I half wanted to sit up and flaunt them to him and then I thought for a moment he was going to sit on my sun bed but he said rather croakily.

“Sorry mum,” and went inside.

There were other smaller incidences. Little touches, brushing against each other, lingering smiles, catching him looking down my top, at my legs or breasts, frequent flirtatious remarks and double entendres.

After the divorce was finalised, we got a quickie, Peter phoned and said.

“Come out for a holiday?”

At first I said no but then after chatting with him I agreed. I knew that he shared a flat overlooking the marina and he told me that the flatmate was coming home so his room would be vacant for two weeks. Apparently its quite common out there to have the agreement that when one or the other is away for a period that the other can have a visitor and use the room. So, we agreed a date a few weeks ahead.

“March is lovely weather-wise mum and we have a small pool area at the flats we can use and I have a pass to the One and Only Hotel if you want something special.”

He suggested that I fly on a Thursday as he could finish work at two and was off on Fridays and Saturdays.

“So, I’ll be able to bed you in.”

Bed me in. I thought, does that mean more than it sounds, god I was getting carried away! Nevertheless, that phrase kept coming into my mind as the day for my ‘flight to destiny’ got nearer as did his parting remark on a phone call.

“Bring bikinis mum they suit you better than swimsuits.”

Of course, since agreeing to go and the day I travelled I could think of hardly anything else than what might happen. How the hell I would last living and sleeping in a flat alone with him for a week was beyond me?

However, since my fling with Jack that had gone on for the best part of six months and still reared its head when he came to London, my feelings for Peter had settled down. They were still there but more under control, maybe what I was doing with Jack overcame them I had speculated many times? Now, though they exploded into their full graphic glory again and time and time again I wondered if he felt the same and I speculated whether he was intending this to be more than holiday.

During the period leading up to the divorce he had been a great comfort to me and as that dragged on I felt we came near several times to ‘crossing the bridge’ between mother and son affection and family sex. We cuddled a lot, now and then he held my hand or put his arm round me and we seemed to hold each other’s gazes much longer. There seemed to me to be a closeness, more affection and, even, an intimacy that had not been there before. He became the man of the house and both Sara and I deferred to him. Some evenings, especially when I may have drunk too much, I imagined us tidying up after Sara had gone to bed, walking up the stairs together and both of us turning right at the top of the stairs rather than him taking the left leading to his room. But nothing overt happened and he went off to Dubai with me in tears.

We’d discussed the sort of clothes I should bring and, making my heart beat a little faster he had quipped with a laugh.

“Nothing too sexy mum and I’ll have to inspect you before we go out.”

I knew that at times they cracked down on too much female flesh on show and I realised what he meant so I was careful with the dresses I took for what I assumed would be evenings out shopping and dining. I packed several not too revealing bikinis and other casual stuff but could hardly believe that when it came to underwear I selected mostly AP and Janet Reger elegantly, sexy stuff; clearly lingerie to be undressed in I smiled thinking ‘chance would be a fine thing.’

I was a bag of nerves all the way on the seven-hour Emirates flight. Fortunately, I whizzed through immigration and my luggage was waiting so I was in the arrivals quite quickly. It was an amazing feeling to walk through the sliding doors and the first face I saw was my son’s. Fuck, did he look good in his white Polo shirt and khaki shorts. He took me in his arms and we kissed. Although mouth wise it was a mother and son kiss, as far as our bodies were concerned it was more than that. His arm that went around my back pulled me against him and as our lips pressed against the other’s cheek our bodies were squashed together from our chests to our toes. I barely managed to keep my lips from his and when we broke away the look in his eyes hinted that he felt the same.

We chatted easily in his Porsche during the thirty minute or so drive from the gigantic airport to the Jumeirah area of Dubai and I persuaded myself that our relationship was and would be for the holiday, mother and son. Well by the time we got to Peter’s apartment block I had persuaded my head that was the case, but I still had doubts about my body and I was pleased that I was wearing a sweater!

As most things are in Dubai, the apartment was luxurious, beautifully laid-out, decorated and furnished and had great views along the marina. My room had a large window overlooking the busy city and though tight was ample though, both that and Peter’s room had bathrooms en suite. Placing my suitcase on the bed that I noted was turned down, Peter explained space is saved on the sleeping areas to provide more for the living quarters saying as he caught my eye.

“After all you do more in the living area than the sleeping don’t you?”

I think we both realised the double meaning but we let it pass.

“Would you like something to eat mum?”

“No the airline fed me well so I’m fine.”

“Let’s have a drink then and we can get to bed.”

Again there was a pregnant silence.

“What time do you get up?”

“Friday tomorrow so whenever you want, I thought maybe we would go to one of the brunches at a hotel.”

“I meant normally.”

“Oh work days?”


“Five-thirty in the summer when we start at seven, and six thirty in the winter. But tomorrow mum sleep until you want to.”

He poured us glasses of white wine.

“Perhaps sit outside, it’s not too hot yet.”

“So, is it usually hot at night?” I asked following him out onto the small balcony looking down on the water.

There was a light breeze that brought up the smell of water which was pleasant and refreshing.

“Christ yes, in the summer it’s mostly near forty most nights.”

I did the quick calculation of doubling Celsius and adding twenty-eight to convert to Fahrenheit and thought ‘wow over a hundred.’

“And quite humid, so outside life ends in May, after that everything wherever possible is indoors fun.”

As he said what again could have a double or suggestive meaning our eyes caught but nothing was said.

We finished the first glasses of wine that he refreshed as I filled him in on the family news and what was happening at home and then went to bed.

With the four-hour time difference it was early for me so I took ages to get to sleep. At one point I got up as I had forgotten to slip into my nighty. At home and usually wherever I go I sleep naked but thought it more prudent to wear something at Peter’s – just in case. Inevitably, I suppose, lying in bed just a few feet from my son I had very lurid thoughts about him and us. I had feared this before accepting his invitation, but at the same time I had welcomed it wondering whether the change of scene would change our thinking. Time and again before arriving here I had thought. ‘Would anything happen, is it all in my mind or in his as well? And if we did do anything what would happen next?’ God it was so complicated, daunting and worrying.

It was just on midnight, eight pm my body time, when I gave up and got up. Momentarily, I thought of going to his room and knocking on the door under some pretence, but of course I didn’t. The fear of rejection was far too high!

I logged onto my PC and went into my personal email, not the business one. My heart beat a little faster when I saw there was a mail from Jack. He said that he would be in London the next Thursday and could stay overnight, making me smile when I read ‘if I wanted a lodger?’ I logged into hangouts on the off chance he was online and almost immediately I had said hi, he came back. I told him that I was away and would not be able to put him up on Thursday. We exchanged a few messages before he told me how horny he was. And asked if I was. We had done this sort of thing along with phone sex a few times so I was not that surprised and told him that I was but didn’t say that I was in Dubai or with Peter.

“How’s this make you feel?” he asked flashing a photo of himself onto my screen. He was naked and semi-erect and looked fantastic.

“Very aroused.”

“What we going to do about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What you wearing?”

“Just a nighty.”

“Bit early for that isn’t it?”

I’d forgotten the time difference and made something up about having driven a long way I had showered and was getting ready for bed.

“But you sleep naked.”

“Not when away in a hotel.”

“So take it off.”

“Why?” I asked now feeling very aroused.

“Because I want to fuck you, or have you fuck yourself.”

And that’s exactly what we did. I slipped out of the nighty, caressed my breasts and pinched my nipples before sliding my hand down between my legs. I was ready and wet and found my clit immediately

“I am rubbing my cock Jay imagining it’s your mouth on it and my fingers are up your cunt.”

“Mmmmm yes and that Jack is exactly where they are.”

I toyed with going on skype to chat to him as we cybered but worried that it would disturb Peter so we just typed instead as we brought ourselves off.

It really was the most sexually bizarre situation. Here I was in my son’s flat naked, having electronic sex with my daughter’s ex-boyfriend. As I rubbed and squeezed my breasts and fingered myself so the one-time familiar image of Peter doing it to me came into my mind. That hadn’t happened so much since I had been having this fling with Jack and it alarmed me to realise I was not over Peter. But then really I knew that and this trip to Dubai was simply emphasising it.

The next day Peter showed me round Dubai and we had brunch at a hotel which was quite spectacular. We had a pleasant, though tiring day which was made more so as I had woken up at four thirty due to the time differences.

There were a few embarrassing moments during the day, particularly at the brunch when we danced together a couple of times. Maybe I was imagining it but I felt that us together looking completely like a couple raised a few people’s eyebrows who I was sure were wondering why someone my age was with such a young and strikingly good looking young man, but then, I rationalised that gave the answer.

“Eat in tonight shall we mum?” he asked.

“Whatever darling, it’s your show.”

“Do you see him much?” Peter asked after dinner as we sat on the balcony looking at the marina.

“Who your dad?”

“Yes him,” Peter said smiling.

“Only for school things for Sara,” I lied.

“Things ok?”

“Yes fine.”

“Any er, um step-fathers for S and me on the horizon?” he asked smiling.

“No don’t be silly.”

“Been on any dates?”

“A couple yes.”


“And what?”

“Anything serious?”

“No, I don’t really enjoy them.”

“Why not?”

“It all seems a bit contrived.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well they all seem to go through a sort of process, a sifting, a finding out how compatible you both are.”

“Yes, I know what you mean like how much you fancy each other.”

“Yes, I suppose so, something like that?”

“And how compatible were you with them mum?” he asked smiling as I realised where this line of talk was leading. I tried changing the subject but he came back to it.

“Aren’t you lonely mum, don’t you just want some company, maybe someone to cuddle you now and then?”

“Might be nice now and then, but there you go.”

“Don’t you miss the, er um affection that there was with dad once.”

“Yes of course I miss it we had some really good times together but you get over such things the older you get “

“Er I didn’t really mean good times mum.”

“What then?” I asked rather naively.

“Never mind better leave it,” he said looking quite embarrassed.

The next day, Saturday, Peter was at work, his weekend varied between Thursday and Friday and Friday and Saturday, and I was going to spend most of the day by the small but perfectly adequate pool. He went off before I got up. I showered slipped into a one-piece bathing suit, had breakfast, around ten, attended to some emails and texts then went to the pool. I was by myself there for an hour or so during which Peter phoned to see if everything was ok, but then a few more people arrived. I went up to the apartment for lunch had a doze in the cool of my bedroom, replaced the one-piece suit with a blue bikini and then went back to the pool around three thirty when it was quite crowded. During the late winter and early spring, the sun goes down and the heat is lost around four thirty and it was just before then that Peter came wandering across the pool. As he approached where I was lying on a sun bed, I sat up and he bent and kissed me on the cheek as he placed his hand on my bare shoulder; a perfectly innocent looking gesture but one full of such anticipation for me,.

“Everything ok mum?” he said quite loudly, I assumed letting people know we were not a number.

“Yes fine love,” I replied enjoying and being rather thrilled at the way he ran his eyes up and down me.

“Mmmm nice mum,” he muttered sitting on the lounger next to me.


“The bikini and er.”

“Er Peter?”

“Er what’s in it,” he whispered.

“Peter stop it.”

“Yes, I had better as people might think we are cohabiting which is illegal.”


“Yes, but as the flat has two bedrooms we are ok. That’s how couples get away with living together.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well like us, as long as you can show clearly that you have separate bedrooms its ok.”

“I see.”

He went on looking at me. “Whether you use both or not. So, if there was only one, what would happen?” I asked.

“Probably nothing as they would be unlikely to know, but if we were grassed up and we had just one-bedroom god knows what would happen as we are mother and son.”

That evening we went to a nice Thai restaurant where again I saw several people staring at us making me feel awkward as I wondered what they were thinking.

When we got home both a little tipsy as we’d had two bottles of red I mentioned it to him.

“So, does it worry you mum, people thinking I’m your toy boy?”

“Actually, yes I guess it does in a way.”

“Ok, I’ll have a sign made that I’ll wear on my forehead saying, ‘she’s my mum,’ will that make you feel better?”

I laughed and told him not to be silly.

“How’s the jet lag going?” He asked as we were clearing up in preparation for bed.

“It’s ok.”

“Got you last night didn’t it?”

“How do you mean?” I asked as alarm bells rang in my mind.

“Just that I woke up dunno what time and thought I heard you.”

Wondering just what the hell he heard and hoping that I hadn’t moaned I replied.

“Yes, I tossed and turned quite a bit.”

“Should have given me a knock,” he said coming close to me and putting his arm round me. “We could have er…”

As we looked at each other I mumbled “What?” wondering whether this was the moment. Leaning forward he slid his arm round me causing my heart to pound and my pulse to race. ‘God it is,’ I thought as his face came close to mine, but it wasn’t. Kissing me on the cheek he went on.

“Had a chat or a drink or something.”

“I didn’t like to come out of the bedroom in case I woke you,” I said aware that we were still close and his arm had remained round my waist.

“Don’t worry about that mum, wake me any time.”


“Yes of course and use the lounge and kitchen, I sleep like a log,” he went on shattering my hopes as he moved away saying. “Night mum.”

The next day I took a cab to the One and Only hotel where a friend from way back was staying and spent the morning round the pool with her and her husband and kids. That helped me clear my head of Peter who in my mind was now back to the obsessive level of pre-Jack!

I didn’t stay for lunch as Peter said he had a meeting and would be home around two.

I went back to the apartment, showered and put on a clean and unused white bikini, with a yellow, voile sundress over it, I didn’t bother with shoes. I prepared a light lunch of Caesar salad that I assumed we would eat on the balcony and poured a glass of white wine.

I was very nervous waiting for him. Although nothing overt had happened last night there had been moments when it seemed as if something might. It was like the time when John had let me down about my birthday and Peter had consoled me to the point where I thought we would kiss or when we danced together at my anniversary and he held me against him and I felt the stirrings of his erection.

Once more I was so confused half thinking I should take the lead or show him that I was ‘available’ but with the other half scared to do that in case I was reading the signs wrongly. I summarised the situation in that it was unlikely that there was ever going to be a more suitable time for ‘something to happen.’ We had the time, location and opportunity, all that was needed was the will from both of us. The question bugging me was did I have that will to confront the inevitable enormous complications that would ensue if we had sex?

He arrived a little after two and after pecking me on the cheek, running his gaze up and down me, telling me that I looked good he said.

“Let me change and grab a shower and I’ll do lunch.”

“Already done it love,” I told him pointing to the table where it was laid out.

“Oh wow mum, how lovely to have a woman around the place.”

We stared at each other for a moment or two as that remark sort of hung in the air between us until he broke it by saying. “Must get changed.”

Returning fifteen or so minutes later in a yellow tee shirt and beige shorts, both fashionably tight, he looked breathtakingly attractive and I could feel myself getting warm and tingly.

“Come on mum let’s do lunch,” he said getting some wine from the fridge and helping me carry the plates and salad outside.

We ate lunch with a bottle of white wine on the balcony where the slight breeze from the water kept us cool. It was an idyllic situation and one that I found romantic and sitting so close to him, intimate. He was unusually quiet and I wondered whether he was suffering the same or similar internal wrangles to me

“Shall we go to the pool or would you like a siesta?” he asked around three.

“I am feeling a little sleepy, so that sounds nice,” I replied adding. “I’m not used to wine at lunchtimes.”

“You sleep better last night?”

“Yes, much thanks.”

“I didn’t hear any late-night movements, so I guessed you did.”

We cleared away the lunch things and went inside.

“We really going to sleep?” I asked being totally unused to the concept of a siesta.

“Yes, lots do out here, late nights, early mornings and afternoons spent in bed. People go shopping between seven and nine then hit the town.”

“Sounds ideal, but I’m getting a little old for that.”

“No, you aren’t and at least don’t look it.”

“Come on Peter that’s just flattery.”

“It’s not and in fact someone saw us at the Thai last night and commented on you.”

“What do you mean what did they say?” I asked as Peter shut the sliding doors to the balcony and the A/C kicked in. The room was quickly chilled and I knew what would happen.

“This, he said handing me his phone showing the messages.”

It read. ‘Wow who was that gorgeous bird you were with last night, what a MILF! Local or flown in? Let me know when she kicks you out of bed.’

I couldn’t help smiling.

“See that’s what people who don’t know you think.”

“Just boy’s talk, I grinned.”

Grabbing my hand, he pulled me into his room. That had a floor to ceiling French window which opened onto a small balcony that like in the lounge overlooked the marina.

“Let’s siesta in here, bigger bed and,” he said pausing and looking at my breasts where I knew that my nipples would have hardened and made indentations in the bikini bra and sun dress. “A better view.”

Trying to be cool and smart I quipped. “What the marina?”

Smiling he replied. “Well amongst other things…” and pausing before adding said. “Sorry mum.”

I didn’t know how to handle the situation. We had not really been here before. I couldn’t make out whether it was just a flirty joke or a suggestion of more so I mumbled.

“That’s ok Peter.”

“Good because what I am going to say might also sound a bit off key.”

My heart started to pound again as I pondered, was this it?

“Mum get on the bed so,” he said quietly before pausing and adding. “We can have our siesta.”

We laid on our backs side by side with a foot or so between us.

“Like the TV on to snooze off to?” he asked.

“I’m not fussed.”

“Or we can just talk,” he said getting up, walking over to the window and drawing the thick curtains. “That’s better, yes?”

“Mmmm lovely,” I said every sinew in my body seeming to be alive and tingling.

We lay there for a while watching CNN and then BBC World News.

“I’m getting a little chilly, just going to get a tee shirt,” I told him sitting up.

Turning his head to look at me he smiled. “Mmmm yes I can see that.”

I pulled the voile sun dress tightly around me and replied. “Well you shouldn’t, I’m your mother.”

Smiling back, he replied. “Well even mothers have nipples mum.”


“In that drawer there,” he said nodding to my right.


“Tee shirts, loads of them, bottom drawer. No point going to your room.”

I got up, went over to the chest and bent at the waist to open the drawer forgetting that my bum in the see-through dress was pointed straight at my son.

“And nice bums too mum.”

Picking up a white tee shirt I quickly straightened up and turned back to face the bed and him. He looked right at me and smiling said. “Sorry mum did I embarrass you?”

“Yes, well no, not really, oh I don’t know, but you shouldn’t talk like that.” I told him slipping the dress off and pulling the tee over my head.

“Why not it’s true, you saw the email from Caln.”

I laid down again and he said.

“Look if you’re cold with the A/c get in the bed, I’m going to.”

We slipped under the thin duvet and all my sexual nerve ends were screaming out. ‘I am in bed with my son in just a bikini and tee, oh fuck.’

And then I heard his deep breathing, he was asleep.

I was alone the next day as he had to go to a meeting in Abu Dhabi, an hour and a half drive away he explained. We had been out to dinner with several of his work colleagues and were back at the apartment.

“So, it’s an early start and a late finish, I possibly won’t be home much before midnight.”

“Ah well early night in for me then.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well Clive was taken with you,” he said mentioning an older guy who had been with us.

“Is he single?”

“What are you interested?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not, could be fun going on a foursome with my mum and boyfriend” he said as we sat down in the kitchen and he poured us glasses of white wine.

“Why do have a girlfriend?”

“No not really but there’s always some banker groupies around and I know a few.”

“How do you mean groupies.”

“Just girls who want a good time and they know us bankers have the money to give it to them.”

“Hmmm interesting.”

“And of course, they know the price they need to pay.”

“Not sure we need to go there.”

“No, but I do mum, a man needs some relief you know.”

“Yes of course,” I said feeling a little rather ridiculously jealous.

“And yes, he is single.”

“And does he go with these groupies as well?”

“Actually, he does very well with the thirty somethings and older and of course with the bored expat wives.”

“Hmmmm I bet he does, he seems to be a nice guy and he’s quite good looking.”

“Just a phone call ma,” he smiled brandishing his phone at me.

“Don’t be daft I couldn’t do that.”

“But would you like to?”

“No, I am perfectly capable of finding my own dates thank you?”

“Maybe at home mum, but not out here.”

“I don’t need a date out here, I have you.”

“Yes mum you do don’t you?” he said looking serious and speaking quietly.

“Yes Peter,” I said in almost a whisper.

“But not for proper dates mum, not like Clive could.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you know, a proper date. When was the last time you went on one.”

I knew as well as he did that he was really asking me when I last had sex. I couldn’t tell him the truth that it was getting on for three months.

“Not sure, can’t remember,” I lied sipping my wine to hopefully hide my embarrassment but then having an idea. “What about you Peter?”

“What about me I don’t fancy Clive and as far as I know he’s more attracted to you than me,” he smiled freshening our glasses.

“No,” I laughed. “When was your last date?”

“Oh last week some time, maybe the week before.”

“And your next one?”

“Nothing planned, I am saving myself as I have this hot woman visiting me from England.”

“Hot Peter, can mothers be hot?”

“Well Caln thought so and so did Clive.”

“So you say.”

“And mum so do I.”

“And on that note young man I am off to bed,” I garbled taking my wine with me to the bedroom.

I had only been there a moment or two and hadn’t started undressing when there was a tap on the door. I opened it.

“Seriously mum Clive did ask for your number.”

“Did you give it him?”

“No, but he is keen and will ring me tomorrow so shall I?”

“That’s completely up to you Peter.”

“Well he is likely to be my next boss so pushing some hot totty his way might not be a bad thing,” he said laughing before turning and going to his room.

“Why don’t you stay another week?” Peter surprised me by asking on the Thursday before I was due to leave on the following Sunday.

We had just got back to the apartment after dinner with his work colleagues including Clive who was very attentive.

“Looks as though you have scored there mum,” he said as we were going up in the lift.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Why’s it silly, I know he fancies you like hell,” he went on letting me into the apartment.

“That’s as maybe but I am not interested and in any case this is your territory not mine.”

“So you might otherwise?”

“Who knows? You didn’t give him my number then?”

Pouring us wine he said smiling. “Well that would be a new way of sleeping your way to the top, having your mum fuck your boss.”

“Peter please.”

“Please what?”

“You shouldn’t think of me like that, I’m your mother,” I said sitting on the large sofa in front of the equally large TV. I was wearing a tight white dress with a zip from the modestly cut neckline to my waist. To avoid flashing too much flesh, which is frowned on at times in Dubai I had worn a black bolero jacket that I had removed when we came in.

“Well don’t tell me you don’t do it mum.”

“That’s my business,” I mumbled as he sat close so that our legs almost touched.

“And mine really.”

“How do you mean and yours.”

“Well it’s my boss who wants to fuck you.”

“Peter stop it this is wrong?”

“Why is it?” he asked his foot rubbing my ankle.

“Well because it is and we shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well mums and sons shouldn’t talk about her sex life”

“What are you embarrassed mum?”

“No, well yes of course I am,” I replied looking down and seeing that he had let his shoe slip off and his bare toe was rubbing my equally bare calf almost at my knee.


“Well I just am.”

“You shouldn’t be?”

“And this,” I said nodding at your foot.

“Don’t you like it mum?”

“It’s not right.”


“Why not, you do like it don’t you.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“And what is the point?” he asked rather confusingly.

“I don’t know?” I mumbled looking down as I felt him move closer to me so that our knees pressed together.

“Well mum?”

“Peter, what’s happening?”

“I asked you to stay as I think we have some unfinished business don’t we?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant and had no idea what to say. My heart was pounding though at the thought of what it could mean. It beat even faster though when he moved closer and put his arm round my shoulders so that his fingers dangled down across my collar bone. They rested lightly on my bare chest just above the neckline of my tight, white dress.

“What do you mean?” I asked looking up into his eyes and then down again avoiding his gaze.

“Mum I think you do know?” he said quietly pushing gently on the strap of the dress, easing it slightly towards my shoulder.

“How, what Peter what do you mean?” I mumbled as I felt his knee pressing more firmly against mine.

As his pressure on the top of my dress increased so it exposed my bra strap he said. “And I don’t mean Clive mum.”

“What are you doing?” I asked looking from his hand to his eyes.

“I think you know mum or should I call you Jay?”

A few years ago he had taken to calling John and me by our first names now and then so it wasn’t a shock that he called my Jay.

I didn’t reply but just sat there as he eased the top of the dress over my shoulder and down my arm a little. I was so excited and aroused that I couldn’t do anything to stop him but knew that I should.

The Clive remark had made me smile but all I could say was. “Good ok.”

We sat there in silence for a few moments as he slid the strap and the top of my dress further downwards and I sat there part in awe of what he, my son was doing and part in fear of the repercussions.

Still with his left arm round my shoulders he took hold of the zip at the neck of the dress with his other hand and started sliding it down. That opened up the top of the dress and exposed my breast in the thin, diaphanous bra.

I put my hand up and stopped him going further.

“Peter no.”

“Why no mum, Jay?”

“Because it’s wrong,” I mumbled wanting nothing more than to expose my breasts to my son.

“Why is it?”

“It just is Peter and you know that.”

“But you do want to don’t you?”

“No of course I don’t, we mustn’t?”

“Mum tell me the truth you do don’t you?”

“Do what?”

“Me, you do want me don’t you?”

“No, no we shouldn’t.”

“So some say,” he whispered moving his face closer so they were only inches apart. “But some say different don’t they?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned as I rested my hand on his leg.

“Mum please be absolutely honest with me then I promise I will do whatever you tell me to do and if you want this will never be mentioned again. Ok?”

“Yes ok,” I whimpered.

“If I were not you son would you stop me, be honest please, it’s the incest thing isn’t it?”

I felt myself welling up and I began to cry. He pulled me closer. “Tell me the truth mum, please, I beg you.”

“Yes darling it is.”

“And but for that you would make love to me?”

“Yes,” I whimpered very quietly as the tears ran down my face.

“Oh mum, mum,” he smiled pulling my face towards his and kissing me on the lips. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

As his opened lips squirmed against mine and his tongue plunged into mouth where my tongue greeted it so my heart felt as though it would burst with pleasure; I was so pleased and excited. But then when his hand cupped my near naked breast in the delicate, see-through Lejaby bra, something hit me. I realised how wrong it would be, that nothing could ever be the same again and just what would we do longer term. On top of that what Sara would think and say came into my mind.

I stood up and moved away.

“What, what’s happened Jay, what have I done?”

“Nothing darling but we can’t.”

“Why not, we want each other we’ve agreed that.”

“Yes I know.”

“And you need sex mum, don’t you? I know you do.”

“This is more than satisfying a need.”

“How do you mean?”

Looking at him from the other end of the sofa, still with the front of my dress undone and my breast in its cup still exposed showing my hardened nipple and areola, I said quietly.

“Peter, if it was just a need to get laid, Clive would have done nicely.”

“What you would fuck him rather than me?”

“In some ways yes.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

I was now getting upset and confused, almost distraught. Here we were nearly at where I had wanted to be with my son for ages and I was prevaricating. God women and mothers can be so stupid.

“It would be easy with him or someone I don’t love,” I blurted out.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh Peter,” I whined. “Don’t you see?” I sighed as I pulled my dress up covering my breasts.

“See what Jay, we both want each other so where’s the problem?”

“What happens after, that’s the problem darling don’t you see that?” I blurted out suddenly wondering if he looked at me as a one off, a one-night stand even!

“What do you mean?”

I could hardly believe that such an intelligent guy could be so lacking in emotional intelligence.

“So what do you want or think will happen?”

“I don’t know mum.”

“A quick fuck or two while I am out here then that’s it?” I said frostily.

“Oh god no, I see what you mean I am so thick. I have thought about it and really I don’t know but as far as it would be feasible I want us to live as man and wife.”

“Really darling, do you really mean that?” I asked feeling so thrilled and excited.

“I think so yes, but what about you?”

“I have thought about it so much and in many ways maybe I think it might be best not to start anything.”

“What fuck Clive instead?”

I smiled and replied. “Well no not really.”

“What then?”

“I just don’t know.”

“These last few days have been agonising for me.”


“Having you here, being so close.”

“And for me, oh Peter.”

“Mum what?”

“I don’t know.”

“What shall we do?”

All those years of being his mother and leading and teaching him seemed to vanish as he began to assume the leading role.

“I don’t know, I am so scared.”

The banker in Peter emerged.

“Look, let’s be grown up about this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s both go into our rooms and think about this and the ramifications. Then come back here in five minutes either naked saying, yes let’s make love or dressed saying we shouldn’t and then we never talk about it again, ok?”

I pondered for a moment or two then looking into his eyes whispered. “Yes ok.”

In my bedroom I was shaking with joy and fear. Now that the time was nigh, that the unthinkable could happen, that Peter and I might make love I was scared. All the doubts and misgivings, the fear and guilt were starting to overwhelm me. I tried thinking it through. What would happen if we did and if we didn’t? But of course, I got nowhere as there really was nowhere to get. I ran through everything in my mind, balancing the pluses and the negatives but when Peter called out to see if I was ready I was no nearer my final decision than when I had come into the bedroom and removed my dress. Looking at myself in the mirror, I made a decision. I reached behind my back, unclipped my bra and watched as my breasts sagged just a little as the support was removed. I wondered what he would think of that as I assumed that the girls he had been with would be stick insect thin.

God how I wanted him to see my breasts, caress and love them as I fondled him. I wondered what he would look like naked. No, that was not quite true as I knew what his body was like as I had seen him in shorts and boxers many times. What my twisted, womanly mind was wondering was what would his cock look like? That hit me as well. I had not done that with any other guy I had been with, it hadn’t seemed relevant but now with Peter it was. Why? What was a mother doing fantasising about her son’s cock? God I so wanted to see it, touch and hold it, kiss and lick it and yes, suck it until it spurted its spunk into my mouth. But the ‘what then’ the ‘what’s the aftermath’ and the ‘where do we go from there’ questions took over along with ‘how could I ever tell Sara?’

“One second,” I called back checking my appearance in the mirror not being sure whether I was pleased or annoyed that my nipples were as hard as bullets.

I opened the door and walked out and saw him. I nearly fainted. He was naked, magnificently erect and his cock was all any woman could ever wish for. Long and thick it stretched rampantly up his flat stomach and was like a beacon beckoning me.

As our gazes met he raised his eyebrows as he saw that I was not naked. We simply stared at each other for a few moments. I could tell that he was trying to work out the message I was trying to transmit by keeping my knickers and heels on. But now, seeing him in all his majestic, rampant, nakedness that message went by the way and smiling at him I slipped my hands into the waist of my knickers and pushed them down and off to stand naked and thus, revise the message to, ‘I am ready to make love to you.’

“Oh Jay,” he groaned as he took me into his arms and we kissed.

“Oh Peter,” I whispered back revelling in the feeling of our bodies being in contact from our lips to our toes. I slightly squirmed against his erection that was pressed into my stomach from my pubic bone to my navel and I kissed him with a passion I had long forgotten.

“Why did you keep your panties on?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“So why take the rest off?”

“I don’t know I guess I was saying let’s make love but maybe not go all the way.”

“So, what made you take them off?”

“This,” I grinned running my hand down between us and taking hold of his cock.

Kissing me as he laughed he said. “So, it’s just lust after all?”

“Oh, darling if only I could explain how and what I feel and yes of course part of it is lust but it is much, much more.”

“I know mum and I feel the same.”

We kissed again, deep and long, passionate with lots of tongue involvement and sucking of each other’s lips.

“Come to bed Jay?”

We went to his room, lay on his bed and quite simply fucked.

So easy to say, so simple and straightforward to write but it was so much, much, much more than that. So many emotions, feelings and sensations. So many physical reactions and wonderfully for me so many orgasms.

“Should I wear something?” he asked as he cradled me in his arms after making wonderful oral love to my breasts and nipples.

That and me stroking his glorious prick was the extent of our foreplay, we didn’t need more, we were ready for sex and little further arousal was needed.

“No, there’s no need darling I am probably past conceiving and I am on the pill,” I told him as he pressed the bulbous head of his lovely cock against my sodden lips. “Just make love to me Peter, please, please just do that.”

“Oh god mum, Jay yes,” he groaned as at last we consummated the incestuous relationship I had been fantasising about for so long as his lithe cock slid up my fully lubricated cunt.

The fuck was like nothing I had ever experienced. That wasn’t due to Peter’s lovemaking skills or the way that I led him. It wasn’t due to anything physical really; it was emotional for both of us. And without doubt it was the most emotional experience I had ever had and probably, I thought as Peter started to thrust inside me, the most sexually emotional a mother could have, it was simply sublime!

But it wasn’t just the fact that my son was inside me and was making love to me it was so much, much more than that and there were so many sensations and feelings. Of course, there was that magical feeling of a new lover’s cock sliding up inside me. There was also that sensational feeling of holding ‘my baby.’ He was in my arms again but this time on top of me and between my legs. Feeling the smooth strength as my hands wandered up and down his back was magical. And then having him slowly thrusting his hardness deep inside me stimulating all those ultra-sensitive places deep inside a woman as well as those around her labia and clit, took me to new heights of sexual delight.

He made me cum very quickly. I was babbling nonsensical things into his ear as my body and mind exploded as my first incestuous orgasm burst over me.

I cried. I couldn’t help it, my emotions simply overflowed and the tears ran down my cheeks.

“Oh mum, oh Jay please don’t please stop, be happy.”

“Oh, I am darling they are tears of joy not anything else,” I moaned feeling so happy as we stayed still for a few moments taking in the enormity of what we were doing and talking

Then he started moving again and I knew we were moving towards the end. His thrusts became deeper and faster and soon he was at the point of no return. I had been there for some time as he had the knack or it was just how things went of taking me up almost to the explosion of an orgasm and just holding me there

“I’m cumming. Oh Jay, oh mum oh fuck yes,” he groaned as I had that lovely feeling of him going rigid and still inside me.

“Yes, come on baby cum for me,” I croaked adding without thinking. “Cum for mummy.”

Holding himself rigid deep inside me as I wrapped my legs round him and crossed my ankles on his back he moaned.

“Oh god, oh yes, mum, Jay yes, yes, yes,” as he exploded and shot his sperm as far into me as it could go.

We didn’t get up the next day other than to eat and drink. We were both naked all that Friday spending most of the time making love of one sort or the other: long kissing sessions, oral on me then me on him then both at the same time, massaging each other, anal play then more intercourse. I felt insatiable and could not get enough of my son whose stamina and recovery powers were immense, everything a younger man’s should be and matched fully my probably unreasonable demands.

I have no idea how many orgasms I had and I lost count of the times that Peter came. Cumming, though, became near irrelevant. It was being together and being so intimate that counted and we were that from the moment I took my knickers off in the lounge.

And we talked. Oh, how we did and that was wonderful in itself although most conversations didn’t last long before one or the other of us would do or say something that encouraged a sexual response.

But we discovered that we had both had feelings for some years and that yes, at my anniversary when we danced he got an erection and the night that John let me down about my party and he consoled me he wanted to make love and would have gone further had there been a sign from me and had Sara not interrupted us. I told him that there had been so many times when I just wanted to grab him or walk out of my room naked to where he was and ask him to make love to me. He responded by saying there had been so many times when he nearly touched my leg, bum or breasts or when he almost slid his hand up my skirt.

“How I avoided sitting down with you when you were topless in the garden I really don’t know.”

“But now we have Peter, what now?”

“We stay here for ever?”

“God I wish.”

“Why don’t you stay longer?” Peter surprised me by asking.

“How long am I invited for?”

“Well he returns next Friday, but I take it you won’t be using his room?”

“No but not when he’s here, I couldn’t, so how about Thursday?”

“Mmmm six more days.”

“Wonderful but remember my age love, don’t kill me.”

“Dubai Banker fucks mum to death, cries the headlines,” he grinned.

“What a way to go?”

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