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Big Tits

At the age of 19 I was home for the summer after just completing my first year, studying Law, at university. My older sister was away, nursing, in London. So it was just my Mum, Dad and I.

We were a close family and I got on well with both parents. My Dad was a practical, physical, type, earning a good living on the oil rigs in the North Sea. So he was often away for a couple of weeks at a stretch, then home on “shore leave” for 7-10 days.

My Mother was much more cerebral. An English graduate, who taught the subject at a local school (thankfully not the one I’d attended). Cerebral as she was, she was also vivacious and a lot of fun. And was one of those warm, tactile, people that others almost immediately warmed to.

She was also very attractive, with immaculately coiffured brunette hair, piercing blue eyes and a curvy, womanly figure. She’d embraced the relatively new trend for aerobics. And regular classes were ensuring she remained in excellent shape. So, even in her mid to late 40s I noticed that she still turned heads, wherever we went. And I’m bound to say that, having been away from her for almost all of the last several months I found I was noticing, probably more than I should have, how attractive and desirable she was.

I’d really enjoyed my first year away. But it was good to be home and I was looking forward to a decent break from studying. But, before I could do that, I’d secured a month of work experience with a local firm of solicitors. So during the week I was off to my 9 to 5 job. And my Mother was still teaching, though the end of term (and with it a long break for her) approached.

Whilst away in Uni I’d found my first steady girlfriend. And had been having regular – and in my limited experience – passionate sex with her. In fact I’d been congratulating myself on my good fortune in finding such an enthusiastic lover. The downside of that was that I’d got used to this. And was finding it hard, now that I was home, to revert to porn mags and wanking.

Back in those days, certainly in our provincial town, casual hook-ups were very rare. And you could only persuade someone to sleep with you after several dates. Whilst I’d have been happy to have meaningless sex with a stranger, I felt that having lots of dates (potentially leading to more meaningful sex) would be cheating on my girlfriend. Twisted logic I know, but it’s hard to make sense of a horny teenage mind. So I determined, in my own eccentric way, to maintain fidelity. And committed to not going out chasing young local girls over the summer.

But, that said, I’d found myself looking covetously at a number of the women in the law firm I worked at. Particularly the “milfy” office manager. As well as a few of our neighbours and some friends of my Mum. And, though I was ashamed to admit it, I was also (as I wrote above) increasingly noticing what a good looking (indeed sexy) woman my Mother was.

None of this was helped by the long, hot, summer we were enjoying. Everywhere I looked I was aware of attractive women, in the skimpiest of clothing. Not least at home where my Mother seemed to be spending an awful lot of time wearing very little indeed.

I’d often come home and find her sunbathing in a bikini in the back garden. And she was regularly parading around the house in knickers and a vest, often braless. With that bralessness making me aware that her nipples were large and prominent.

Finally, that tactility I mentioned earlier was especially apparent with me. We were always a loving family and, from an early age, I was showered in love and affection. Manifesting itself, to this day, in a lot of all embracing cuddles. Having been away for several months in college my Mother was particularly affectionate on my return, regularly grabbing me and pulling me to her chest.

“My little boy is all grown up and has left me,” she’d say, “but I need to remind you that Mummy still loves you and needs lots of cuddles from my baby.”

Said in jest of course, but the warm, tight, cuddles were very real. With my Mother unaware, seemingly, that when she did this she was almost invariably holding me tight to her (very impressive) chest, with our groins touching.

All of which meant that I was increasingly viewing my Mother as a sexual being. And this view – and my frustration – was exacerbated by the fact that, when my Dad was home it was apparent that they were enjoying quite a lot of very vigorous sex. Either I’d never noticed it before, or they were being less discreet than they used to be. I found I was regularly seeing my Dad fondling my Mother. Nothing too overt, but certainly loving and affectionate, for example, groping her arse. But the biggest indicator was the banging of the headboard and the gasps and groans from their bedroom late at night. Happy as I was that they still “carried a torch” for each other, it highlighted my own discomfort and frustrations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Dad and I shared lots of sporting interests. But my Mother and tempobet giriş I bonded over the written word. Regularly discussing literature and sharing new and classic authors with each other. As a spin off from this, over a number of years we’d developed a habit of doing the cryptic crossword together. And, now that I was home, with my Dad away, we’d often sit in bed at the weekend, drinking tea and pouring over the clues of the one of the broadsheet puzzles.

So, one Saturday morning we were doing just that. Sitting, side by side, propped up against some pillows with mugs of tea beside us on the bedside table.

On this occasion I was finding it almost impossible to concentrate and had contributed nothing to the crossword. My Mother was wearing what used to be (probably still is) described as a negligee. It was flimsy and satiny, short on the leg and cut loose andvery low at the front. So much so that as I glanced across I could see her tits and nipples very clearly. I was ashamed to discover that this view, coupled with us sitting so closely (so that we could view the clues together) that our bare legs were touching, led to a spontaneous, very hard, erection.

“Come on Jack,” my Mother chided, after some time, “I don’t think you’ve got one clue yet. Look, go and make yourself useful and go and bring us fresh mugs of tea.”

“Mmm, not just yet, I’ll go in a few minutes,” I demurred, hoping that would give time for my erection (which I could now feel was poking out of my shorts) to abate.

But my Mother was having none of this.

“Don’t be so lazy,” she directed, flinging the duvet back as she said this. Leaving my dick, at full mast, clearly on display. It was both cripplingly embarrassing and more than a little ludicrous.

My Mother seemingly, whilst surprised and shocked, was taking this in her stride. And did not appear to be suffering from the shock and shame that I was.

“Oh my goodness,” she chuckled, “I can see now why you didn’t want to get out of bed. You poor thing,” she added, sympathetically. “But look, its perfectly natural. Why don’t you take care of that whilst I go down and make us a cup of tea? Because we certainly wouldn’t Mrs Higgins opposite to look through the window and see that whilst you boiled the kettle.”

She hoisted herself out of bed (causing her tits to sway further) and moved to the doorway, where I could now see that the negligee was as short as it was low cut. Neither of which did anything to encourage my erection to subside.

“I’ll give you some time to “take matters in hand,” she suggested, with a leery grin on her face. Before traipsing downstairs to the kitchen.

I was shocked and confused, on several levels: principally by the fact that my Mother had been the cause of an erection so strong that it was almost painful; then also by how “matter of fact” she was being about this; and finally appalled (but also turned on) by her apparent suggestion to masturbate in her bed whilst she made us tea!

That said – and despite her encouragement – I really didn’t feel comfortable about having a wank in my parents bed whilst she was downstairs sorting out our refreshments. So I lay there and focused on the crossword, giving my erection time to subside. Though, excited as I was, that took longer than I’d anticipated.

When she returned, after placing the mugs of tea beside us, she pulled the duvet back again and made a point of checking my groin. My dick had (finally) deflated and I’d tucked it back into my shorts.

“All sorted?” she asked, with a cheeky glint in her eye.

“Mum,” I protested, “no, I haven’tsorted it. And anyway, it’s none of your business.”

“Just concerned about my little boy’s welfare,” she teased, “sexual or otherwise. Anyway, let’s see if we can crack this crossword. It’s a tough one today.”

So I tried my best to focus on the clues and for 5-10 minutes I was able to do that. Sadly, the proximity to my Mother (she was sitting so close once more that our legs were touching) and the continued distraction of her tits in the flimsy nightwear led to another erection in my disorderly dick. And my input to cracking the crossword once again dried up.

My Mother, intuitive as ever, seemed to sense this. Looking across at me with a glint in her eye she threw back the duvet and was, for the second time that morning, confronted by my unruly member sticking rigidly out of my shorts.

“Jack,” she shrieked, but with more amusement than horror. “What’s got into you? Are your hormones running amok? Surely the idea of a crossword with your old Mum isn’t causing all these erections?” she chuckled.

“Of course not,” I spluttered in apology.

I most certainly wasn’t going to admit to the vision of her heaving tits being the source of my arousal. So I gave an alternative explanation. “It’s just that I’m missing my girlfriend back in Uni.”

“Oh,” my Mother responded, with a wicked grin. “So the lovely girl we met when we picked up you and your belongings a few weeks back has been “taking care” tempobet yeni giriş of my little boys needs?”

I’m bound to say that, whilst we’d always had a close, quite “adult” relationship, I hadn’t anticipated my Mother being so open about my sexual experiences. I was finding it both uncomfortable and arousing. With my arousal, at least in part, contributing to my discomfort.

“And there I was, thinking that my handsome young man was getting excited by the proximity of my fleshy, middle aged, body.” she continued, in a similarly teasing vein, pushing her chest out and accentuating her tits as she said this.

Thinking with my dick and making a decision that was, ultimately, to have a profound impact on my sexual development over the next several months, I took a deep breath and confided in my Mother.

“Right,” I began, “seeing as you asked, right now it is you that’s been the cause of my erections. Sitting next to you, in that flimsy negligee, with your boobs almost bursting out and your nipples apparent, is what’s put my hormones into overdrive. Though it’s also true that I’m missing my girlfriend and the great sex we’ve been having.”

For a few seconds my Mother was so shocked she said nothing. I wondered, initially, if she thought I was joking. But she could tell by my blushing expression and body language that I was deadly serious.

“Oh my goodness Jack,” she croaked, as she finally found her voice. “I’m so sorry, I really hadn’t realised it was me. I never imagined for a second that a good looking young man like you would be aroused by an old maid like me.”

“Well,” I started to explain, “it’s not something that I would have imagined either until recently. But you are not an old maid and, wrong as it is, I’ve recently started to realise and appreciate how attractive you. Especially, as I just said, seeing your boobs almost falling out of that nightdress,” I concluded, with a sheepish smile.

Having seen this, initially, as something humorous and light hearted the gravity of the situation was starting to dawn on my Mother. Her much loved son was laying next to her with a raging boner and I’d just confessed that she – and her heaving bosom – was the cause of it.

Realising this she tried to regain a little of the moral high ground.

“Oh Jack, my darling. I’m so sorry. I had no idea the effect I was having you. And I do apologise for teasing you and making light of the situation. That’s unforgivable of me. I just thought it was a bit of fun. But I can see now that you are in need of relief. And I appear – inadvertently – to be the cause of of that need.”

“I’m afraid you are,” I agreed. “I don’t want to go out chasing the local girls and getting into the complexities of a girl at home and a girl back at Uni. But that has meant that I’ve been viewing you in a light that I’d never imagined I would,” I confessed. “Not helped of course by how sexy I’ve come to appreciate you are,” I ended, with an embarrassed grin.

“Well, thank you for the compliments,” my Mother smiled. “That’s really sweet of you. But look,” she continued, “we’re both adults. And your reaction is instinctive and natural. So please don’t be upset or embarrassed. I really am sorry I’ve been teasing you. But it is genuinely flattering to see the effect I can still have on a handsome, horny, young man. Even if it is my son,” she grinned. “So, as I suggested earlier, why don’t you take care of things and give yourself that relief?”

“I think you’re right,” I agreed, starting to raise from the bed, “I can’t focus on anything until I’ve got off,” I reported shyly.

Putting her hand on my chest as I rose my Mother surprised me, once more.

“No need to go,” she suggested quietly, “why don’t you just relieve yourself here?”

“Don’t worry,” I answered, thinking that she meant to leave, allowing me to masturbate whilst she went elsewhere. “It’s your room so no need for you to go. You stay here and I’ll go to my room.”

“No, you idiot,” she grinned, “I’m suggesting that we both stay here. I know exactly what you are going to do. So there is no need to be coy. Plus, seeing as I’ve been the cause of this excitement I’d actually really like to see the culmination of it. That’s if you don’t mind?” she finished, with a shy grin.

“What????” I spluttered, “you’re suggesting you’d like to watch me beat off?”

“How wonderfully poetic of you,” she chuckled. “But yes, that is what I’m suggesting. I know you’ve been embarrassed by what’s happened so far. But I really think we have a close and comfortable enough relationship to do this. And actually I can’t imagine it will be any more embarrassing than when I first drew the duvet back and saw your cock poking out. Plus, you might find you like an audience,” she concluded shyly. “I know I do.”

Writing this, several years later, I can still clearly recall my incredulity at my Mother’s suggestion. This was not a scenario that I ever envisioned I’d find myself in. Over the coming weeks and months our relationship developed further. tempobet güvenilirmi But it did that in a series of iterations. So it was this initial morning – and particularly this suggestion that she wanted to watch me wanking (with the added twist that she seemed to like being watched herself) – that was such a seismic shift.

Alongside that incredulity I can also recall the excitement I felt then (and feel now at the recollection) about her proposal. I knew – we both did – that by every societal norm this was wrong and inappropriate. But it was also massively arousing and I’m not ashamed to admit I gave it very little thought before agreeing.

Throwing back the duvet fully, I shrugged off my shorts and lay back as I, slowly at first, began to rub my cock.

My Mother appeared to enjoy looking at both my young (and at that time athletic) body and my hard, pulsing, cock. But I also got a strong sense that she was flattered and aroused herself by my very obvious interest in her and her body. With this idea tying in to her comment moments ago about enjoying being watched.

For a few minutes the two of us were taking mutual delight in my actions, until I made a suggestion.

“Couldn’t you do this for me?” I asked, cheekily.

“Oh no, I really don’t think that would be appropriate,” my Mother responded, clearly a little shocked at what I’d asked. Which, when I reflected back later was completely daft considering that much, if not all, of what we were doing had been initiated by her.

Even there in the moment, I was sure that laying next to my Mother, wanking myself whilst admiring – in fact leering at – her swaying tits was not what the vast majority of people would consider “”appropriate”. But I chose not to labour the point. Concentrating instead on bringing myself some much needed relief, whilst continuing to feast visually on her sensational tits.

That said, my Mother seemed unusually interested in my dick (in fact the whole situation was considerably beyond “unusual”) and she, if I wasn’t mistaken, looked a little flushed and excited herself.

As I lay back on the bed she lay on her side, next to me, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked down at me. Her tits were heaving inside her negligee, but I was desperate to see them in all their glory. So I made a further suggestion.

“Look,” I said, “if you won’t give me a hand can I at least see your boobs properly?”

“Ooh, you’re a cheeky sod, just like your father,” she chuckled. “I suppose it can’t do any more harm. But you can look, but don’t touch.”

Seconds later, she shrugged the flimsy shoulder straps down and her tits tumbled out. I’m bound to say, they were even finer than I’d imagined. So much so that my cock, already close to bursting, twitched involuntarily.

“Crikey, you weren’t joking, they really are having an effect on you,” my Mum commented as she noticed this, “I didn’t think you’d like saggy old things like these,” though she preened a little as she said this.

With my Mother by my side, so close we were touching, she leaned over and started gently caressing my chest. Once again, I winced at the intimacy of this touch.

“Wow,” she observed, “all that time in the gym is paying off, these pecs of yours are looking good,” which she followed up by gently tweaking a nipple.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, with a shudder, as my cock twitched again. “that feels good.”

“Oh, you like that do you?” she chuckled, “you really are like your Dad. You’ve clearly got sensitive nipples.” As she combined caressing my chest and upper abdomen with further tweaks to my nipple (an erogenous zone that, until then I didn’t know I had).

I could have done without references to my Father. But, whilst I would have preferred my Mum to be wanking me, I was enjoying the physical contact I was having. So I kept quiet. But what I wasn’t able to do was resist my Mum’s own nipples. As she was leaning in to massage my chest they were now hanging down, just inches away from me. And it appeared, from how erect and prominent they were (and the way her breathing was becoming more laboured) that I might not be the only one that was aroused.

Reaching up slightly, I took one of them into my mouth and gave it a very gentle suck.

“Ooh, you naughty boy,” she gasped, trembling now herself. “I told you not to touch.” For just a few seconds she let me continue to suckle, causing me to hope that she may allow further interaction. Until she pushed me away and gave me a gentle slap.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist. Your boobs are perfect and your nipples are insanely sexy,” I explained. “And anyway, I licked, not touched,” I suggested with with a grin.

“You really are the cheekiest of sods,” she admonished. But with amusement, not irritation, in her demeanour. “Now stop pushing your luck any further and take care of the mighty weapon that’s throbbing away in front of you.”

Realising I’d got as far as I was going to, I laid back and concentrated on doing just that. I knew that the situation, fucked up as it was on many levels, was so impossibly horny that I really wouldn’t last long. But, as much as I was able to, I wanted to put on a decent show for my Mother. My rationale being that, if she enjoyed the spectacle she may wish to repeat it. Or even go further.

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