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Mum and Me Part Four
Mum and Me, Part Four {John Jabbin} {mF Inc Mdom}
jjabbin@yahoo.com
Other at:
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Jabbin/
I apologize to my faithful readers who have waited an
inordinate amount of time for this installment of my
tale. I've been bogged down at work and some personal
issues, but I will be finishing this story. You
patience and your feedback is appreciated.
Such feedback is the only price that most authors that
post to ASSM ask. Writers need feedback in order to
become better writers. Any comments, bad or good, are
welcome. Write me at the e-mail address above.
If you're a minor, don't read this. If it's illegal in
your country to be in possession of about sex,
please destroy all copies of this work. Practice safe
sex reading please.
Mum and Me, Part Four
by John Jabbin
Since the day I had decided to take my Mum as a lover,
I had begun a patient, meticulous plan to seduce the
most beautiful woman in my world. I knew I had to
bring Mum around slowly to the idea of it. I had to
learn to be patient.
To make matters even more complicated, my goal wasn't
just an adolescent shagging of the gal. What I
wanted more than anything was to take more and more
control of our lives. I know that at fifteen that runs
against the grain, but as I grew up I could see more
and more that I had a real need to be in control of my
own life. Just as important to me, I had a real need
to be in control of another person, of someone I was
close to and intimate with.
There was no one in my world that I felt closer to
than Mum and no I wanted to be intimate with more
than her. It wasn't just a hopeless idea either, not
in my mind. I had a couple of distinct advantages
going here.
First of all, Mum was lonely. I had seen that already.
She craved my attention almost as much as I craved
hers. She could even put up with a bit of nonsense
from me that she didn't particularly enjoy just on the
hopes of more attention and companionship.
And another distinct advantage that I had to my plan
was that I believe Mum's own natural inclinations ran
in this direction. She was a sensuous woman that
wanted to be touched and I think she wanted to be
submissive to a man. Mum had never shown any natural
inclination to be bossy with me like some mums are to
their sons. What I remember of Dad, he had certainly
been the more dominant of the two of them. Already in
her responses to my attentions, Mum had shown that her
natural instincts were to follow my lead. So far she
had regretted that afterwards, but before she set up
her guard, she had been willing to let me lead her
down the path of my own interest.
So, starting that Sunday morning I set out to achieve
my ends with patience and determination.
Mum always liked to go to church on Sunday morning
even though she wasn't particularly religious. She
never insisted that I go, but I tagged along with her
enough to know the liturgy and to not be a stranger to
the inside of a church. With the hangover of guilt I
was sure that she'd be feeling, I was certain that
she'd be going this morning. As usually I was up
bright and early long before her. Mum's a sound
sleeper that has to have a good eight hours. I rarely
sleep more than four or five myself. I think I get
that from my Dad.
So I woke up early and fixed us both a light
breakfast. As soon as the coffee was brewing and
filling the whole house with its aroma, I heard Mum
stirring. I had some biscuits and sausage done by the
time she was down.
Mum wore an robe that was quite unattractive. I'd
have to get her another one soon. Even so, I sat a cup
of hot coffee in front of her and a plate of food and
kissed her good morning and asked her how she had
slept. She mumbled something and I asked her if she
was going to church this morning and if I could tag
along. She perked up a bit at that and when she nodded
more affirmatively, I told her I was going upstairs to
take a shower to get ready.
I just took a quick one since I hadn't been out since
yesterday, but I left the door open so that when Mum
came upstairs from breakfast she had to walk the
length of the hall before she turned off to her
bedroom. The whole time she had to be looking at my
naked arse toweling myself off.
Nudity had never been an issue in our house before. We
had no rules against it or any locks on the doors
inside the flat. To be true, I'd only seen Mum in
partial undress on several rare occasions and could
only imagine that the reverse was true for her. I had
plans to change that though and this morning's shower
was the opening salvo of my nudity campaign.
As soon as I knew she was past the door and had to
have gotten an eyeful, I hurriedly finished off and
went to my room and changed into white and black
slacks. I rushed throwing on my socks and dress shoes
and grabbed my tie on the way back to Mum's
bedroom.
As I came into her room I surprised her with just her
bra and a white half-slip on. Well, I would assume
there were under the slip too, though I
doubted seriously I would see them.
"John! I'm still getting dress," Mum said
exasperatedly.
"I can see that, but you're decent. Would you mind
tying my tie for me? You know how clumsy I am with it
and you always end up re-tying it anyway."
"Okay, come here lad, though why you're in such a
hurry today I don't understand. Now stand still while
I do this."
Stand still I did as Mum stood before me with her
proud, full encased in nothing but lovely
white cotton. It wasn't as though I could see much,
but something about seeing a woman in her underwear is
very exciting to a man. Every now and then Mum
would look up into my eyes to see where I was staring.
Most of the time I was able to meet her gaze, though
several times she could me looking at her lovelies.
"There you go," Mum said taking a step back after
finishing. "You almost look presentable if you
straighten up your hair."
"Mind if I use your comb here," I said taking her
suggestion as a excuse to linger. "What are you
wearing to church?"
Mum pulled out a dress from her closet and held it in
front of her between us, no doubt in some small
attempt to cover herself up.
"I think I'll wear this blue one," she said as though
to herself.
"I don't suppose you'd want to wear the one we
bought yesterday?" I countered.
"That's hardly a church frock, John. I don't know if
I've even courage enough to wear it to work, but I
know I can't wear it to church," she said giggling, no
doubt thinking of the deep neckline of her new dress
and its tight waistline that accentuated her
and hips.
"Well, you'd look lovely in that blue one then,
especially with those black heels," I suggested.
"Which heels?" she asked questioningly.
"You know ... well, let me show you," I said walking
past her until I was standing in her closet doorway.
A woman's closet is a wonderful place. Filled with all
her garments, it smells of her. The texture of the
fabrics makes a want to linger. As I stooped
to look at the shoes on the floor, I could almost
imagine looking up Mum's dresses with her inside them.
I drew forth a pair of black, three-inch heels ... the
highest heels Mum had and ones she rarely wore except
on special occasions.
"This pair, Mum. Not only do they make your legs look
nice, but when you wear them we're almost the same
height."
"Not for long, man. You're growing taller each
day. Since it's only for a couple of hours, I'll
indulge you. Normally though, on Sunday the last thing
I want to do it wear a set of heels."
I sat down on Mum's rumpled bed and watched her as she
dressed. At first she seemed reluctant to put the
dress on with me watching, which seems a bit
ridiculous when you consider that I was already seeing
her without it. But, after what looked like a moment
of internal debate, she drew on the dress over her
head.
I stepped forward and helped Mum by zipping up the
back of the dress. Mum froze, uneasy as I did so, I
think half expecting me to reach around and grope her.
But I was on my best behavior and other then taking a
deep smell of her hair as I pulled up on the zipper
and straightened out the fall of the shoulders, I was
a gentleman.
But then it came time to put on her before
she had to slip on her shoes. Having gotten them from
her lingerie drawer, Mum dawdled, half expecting me to
leave and give her some privacy to slip them on.
Still, I was determined to see it through until she
asked me to leave, but she never did.
As she sat on the bed beside me, Mum gathered a pair
of the in her hands and then slipped her
right foot, the one closest to me, into the toe of the
stockings. Seeing Mum's dainty little foot going into
the nylons was a fascinatingly erotic thing for me. It
seemed to happen in slow motion as Mum smoothed the
stocking along her foot and ankle and agonizingly
slowly up her calf. Then she stood and turned her body
away from me while hiking up her dress to slip it on
the rest of the way.
I grinned to myself, a bit disappointed that I hadn't
gotten a good glimpse of hip and cunt, but thrilled
that we had gotten this far. She did the same
procedure with the left leg and stocking, though I was
sorely tempted to rush around and have a peak at her
as she pulled them up and snugged and straightened
them on her thigh.
These didn't have garters, much to my dismay, but I
almost asked her if she had any that required them.
I'd just love to see Mum putting on a pair of
with garters, and love even more to see her removing
them.
That was about all the fun of getting ready, though
she did allow me to help her brush her hair. I found a
sustained enjoyment of helping Mum get ready and she
even listened to my suggestions of which lipstick she
should wear and how she should style herself. It was
almost as though I were in charge of her getting
dressed. One day, I thought to myself, I will be more
overtly in charge of just that, Mum. Then you'll see
how well I love you and take care of you.
As we sat in church that morning I couldn't help but
think what a lovely and couple we made. Mum
looked for her age. I fancied that I looked
for mine. Certainly everyone saw the age difference,
but to my mind a stranger might easily think here was
a woman that just fancied a as her
lover. The church was crowded and we had to sit close
to one another. Mum's thigh and mine pressed against
one another almost the whole time.
It was a very strange experience thinking of church
with Mum as an erotic experience, but it was. As we
stood to say the prayers, I brought my hand to hers
and she held mine tightly. As we queued up together
and came forward for communion, we were equals
kneeling together waiting for the priest. Afterward,
as we stood and walked back to our pew, I guided Mum
with my hand in the small of her back. It was a lovely
experience to be dressed up with her and touching her
so intimately in public.
I found myself more and more enjoying this touching. I
don't know why I hadn't done this before and Mum
seemed to enjoy me being close. None of the things I
was doing was overtly sexual, so she was hard pressed
to deny them. Even so, the constant rubbing and
touching, especially the thought of doing it in
public, was very exciting to me.
And I think the touching even affected Mum as well.
She seemed almost intoxicated with the attention. So
much so that even after we got home, the touching
didn't stop. We had both gone into the kitchen and
were standing in front of the fridge considering what
to have for lunch, when I put my arms around her and
pulled her tight against me. I didn't think about
doing it or plan it. It was just something that seemed
natural and the right thing to do.
Mum just seemed to melt into my arms. Her tight, sexy
ass pressed back against me and for just a second I
heard a moan escape her lips. The spontaneity of her
response to my embrace surprised us both and after
that brief, initial response, Mum scooted away and
left the room, leaving me standing in the middle of
the kitchen with a raging hard-on.
As much as I wanted to be patient, I was still only
fifteen and at the moment a very horny man. I
went upstairs and took off my pants and shirt, tossing
my shoes and dress socks into the corner.
I pulled my cock out of my briefs and began to jack my
meat up and down, thinking about my lovely Mum. As I
closed my eyes, I imagined Mum kneeling before me
taking my prick into her lipsticked-mouth. Her hand
reached beneath me and massaged my balls and the shaft
of my prick went deeper and deeper into her mouth. She
was slick and warm, just like I imagined her mouth or
cunt would be. I had been by several of the
neighborhood sluts and even fucked a couple of them,
but I had never had a woman Mum's age. I
imagined her to be even more ripe and wonderful
than those little girls.
And suddenly, at just the thought of that, in my mind
Mum was underneath me and my cock was buried in her
cunt. She was squirming, pushing herself against me.
My hand was flying over my shaft, pumping fiercely. I
was moaning out her name and feeling her beneath me
and suddenly I was cuming, my sperm leaping into the
air and falling to splatter on my chest and stomach.
My orgasm was as intense as any I had ever had and I
felt like I came gallons. Trying to catch my breath, I
looked down at the mess I had made and started
searching for something to clean myself up with. A
motion caught my eye and I saw, in a glance, that I
had inadvertently left the door cracked open. I saw
the twirl of the hem of a dress and Mum's strawberry
blonde hair going down the stairway, away from my
door.
I hadn't intended Mum to see me but thinking back
on it, at least if she did, she had spied on a good
one. As I lay back, I thought about Mum watching me as
I jacked off and I started to get hard again. My hand
automatically went to my cock and I started to slowly
pump it, thinking about Mum watching me.