Incest Swimming with Mom

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Ch. 01

Looking back, I had quite a hard childhood. I grew up in a provincial town in the Midlands, the sort of place that periodically appears on TV in one of those property programmes where a middle-class couple from London briefly consider moving there for the 'quality of life' and 'open spaces' but ultimately decide that the crap train service and 'easy access to Stoke-on-Trent' aren't actually what they wanted at all. Otherwise, very little ever seemed to happen.

My mum and I lived in a two up, two down terrace house just outside the town centre, which she absolutely adored. Her parents, my gran and grandpa, were well-off and lived in a large detached house in the countryside, but they'd more or less cut her off when she got unexpectedly pregnant with me and abandoned her with her boyfriend and a deposit for a house. Whether this assuaged their guilt at kicking their daughter out of the house, I have no idea. But Mum loved the house she'd bought; her boyfriend (my dad) spent three months doing it up, using favours from mates and bits of scrap timber he 'found' in skips, before jumping into bed with a barmaid from the pub up the road and disappearing out of her life. But she kept the house in perfect condition, scrubbing it every Sunday from top to bottom. Once a year, usually over a sunny weekend in March, she had a huge spring-cleaning event and turned everything upside down. She was the definition of house-proud. Once I started going to secondary school, she made the little garden my responsibility, and woe betide me if I didn't cut the grass to her exact specifications.

We didn't have lots of furniture or things in the house, just the essentials. Mum loved watching soaps, so we had a decent TV and a second-hand leather DFS sofa, but those were really her only indulgences. She worked flat out as a sort of typist and receptionist at a local factory, which frequently meant staying late, yet somehow she always had the energy to put me first. When I was eleven, I was desperate for a pair of really expensive Nike football boots which everyone (in my mind) was wearing at school. They cost so much, it would have been like two birthdays and Christmas rolled into one. Somehow, she must have found a second-hand pair in my size at a weekend car boot sale or through someone at work, and she stayed up late on a Sunday evening polishing and cleaning these old boots until they shone, almost as good as new. Then she presented them to me on Monday morning to take to school, before setting off herself for a long day. I was grateful, of course, but it wasn't until I was older that I could really appreciate what she was doing for me.

There were always two sides to Mum. At work, and when she was in a good mood at home, she was cheerful and friendly, loved wearing makeup and doing her hair, which was a gorgeous dark auburn. It was easy to see how she'd been popular with the boys at her school, and equally easy to see how dad had got her pregnant at eighteen. On the other hand, if she was tired or stressed, this dark side came out, where she'd sit on the sofa, chomping her way through packets of cheap biscuits from the supermarket, screeching at me or at the TV for any perceived slight. If she'd had a bad day at work, I'd skulk all afternoon in my bedroom, enduring half an hour of frosty silence or constant nagging over tea before retreating back up there until bedtime. It got easier when I was older and could spend time out of the house, kicking a football in the park or hanging around the town, as she seemed to relax more when she didn't have me to fuss over. But when she got into one of her really black moods, she'd go for an entire weekend without showering, hardly eat anything except tea and biscuits, and get more and more irritable until she found some way to relax and vent all the stress away.

Which brings me to the most special and unique thing about my mum. Apart from me, the one thing she absolutely lived for was swimming. At her slightly-posh school, she'd been able to have free swimming lessons and she'd quickly become one of the top swimmers in the county. Her figure wasn't exactly the classic tall, thin type you'd expect for a swimmer; she was only average height and more hourglass than willowy, but nonetheless, she was the best. On her dressing table were two medals, which she loved to show off to me: first place in the county seniors, second place at the national trials. At sixteen, she'd been on a national longlist for potential Olympic or World Championship swimmers, but her times were a few tenths of a second too slow. And then, in her own words, "I grew boobs and got more interested in boys than swimming". But she never gave it up, and if I was the most precious thing in the world to her, then her leisure centre membership card was probably the second-most.

She'd taught me to swim when I was only four or five, and then it became an Armstrong family tradition on a Saturday morning to get up bright and early and go for a swim. When I was an awkward teenager, I occasionally complained about having to get up early, but I could see how much it meant to her and the complaints quickly stopped. However hard I tried, I was never anywhere near as fast as she was, and even when I was getting personal best times, she could blow past me and disappear up the lane if I ever got cocky. After the swim, we'd dry off and she'd buy me a can of something fizzy from the corner shop on the way home. I loved hanging out with her like that, when she was in her element and didn't have to think about work or bills or money. She would relax and laugh and play around, and I'd get a little window into what eighteen-year-old Mum had been like, before she'd had to grow up and get responsible.

But, enough boring stuff about my mum. The story actually begins with me, and weirdly enough, my dad.

* * *

"Hiya Cathy, Dave up yet?"

His fake-friendly tones travelled up the stairs and through the open door of my bedroom.

"Hi Ian, yes, he's upstairs packing. Dave!" Mum yelled, before dropping her voice to talk to my dad again. "Come in for a few minutes, he's probably just finishing something off."

I looked around my bedroom. I had actually finished packing quarter of an hour ago, but I was frantically trying to clean a dark smudge off the painted wall where I'd accidentally swung my sports bag and left a scuff. Mum would freak out if she saw it.

"Dave! Your dad's here!"

"I'll come down in a second, Mum!"

My best efforts with a slightly-damp towel seemed to bear fruit, and now it was more of a dull patch of paint instead of an outright scuff. I threw the towel onto my bed and bounded downstairs, two at a time, almost clattering into my dad at the bottom as he peered up to see where I was.

"Hiya Dave, you're looking fit," he said, punching my shoulder softly. "All set to go?"

My dad had announced to me when I was about thirteen that he'd slept with over thirty women and expected to break fifty before he got too old. He clearly thought of me as an unintended consequence of one of his conquests, someone to drop in on twice a year, stuff some twenty pound notes into my hand, and then go off to live his own life. He actually had a really good job working on an offshore rig, and during his time off he went on motorbike tours of Italy, Spain and Portugal. Not that mum or me ever really saw any of that money, except for the sixty quid he'd give me in lieu of birthday and Christmas presents.

I nodded. "Yeah, everything's packed upstairs. I'll bring it down, that way nothing gets forgotten."

"Tea, Ian?" my mum called through from the kitchen.

"No, you're alright, love. Keen to get off," he said back, looking at me and rolling his eyes. "Mums, eh?"

I shrugged. "Let me get the bags."

Today was Sunday, and tomorrow was a big day - my first day at a real university. My hard work and Mum's constant nagging about schoolwork had paid off, and a few weeks ago, I'd received confirmation of my place at a proper university, studying History. I don't want to sound like a snob, but this wasn't some local-college-turned university where anyone could get in. I'd grafted to get an A and had accepted my place at the University of Sheffield. Mum had been in floods of tears when I got my results, going on about 'social mobility' and 'a better future', but Grandpa had got a teaching degree way back when so it wasn't exactly what she made it out to be. Regardless, I'd spent weeks poring over the admissions material, reading words like 'tutorial' and 'undergraduate' and feeling like I was about to join the real world, in a real city. Yes, I wasn't one of the cool crowd who hung out behind the fire station smoking weed, and, full disclosure, I'd never even had a proper girlfriend, beyond a couple of drunken snogs at house parties. One time, I was making out with this girl, Lucy, and she asked me to get her a drink. When I came back, she was snogging some older guy I'd never even met who had his hand up her shirt. That pretty much summed up my love life.

Unfortunately, Mum didn't have a car, and I needed to take far too much stuff to realistically carry on a train with three changes. So Mum had made a surreptitious call to Dad and here he was, parked on the double-yellows outside the house in a white van he'd borrowed from a pal.

It didn't take the two of us long to load my clothes, sports kit, bedding and towels, a bag of stationery and textbooks and my laptop, which Mum had tried to tell me she'd bought second-hand but I discovered a sticker on the bottom which said it had formerly belonged to her employer. I never asked further, but assumed she'd taken it because it was being thrown out. Dad theatrically slammed the back doors of the van and pointed with his thumb to the cab.

"Hop in. I reckon we're gonna need a couple of hours to get there and you'll want to be all settled in sooner rather than later."

"Let me just say bye to Mum," I told him, dodging back into the house and pretending not to notice his annoyance.

Mum was, predictably, standing in the kitchen, having a bit of a cry.

"I'll be back at Christmas, if not before," I said, putting my arms out for a hug. She grabbed me and started dripping onto the shoulder of my coat.

"I know, I want you to have a great time, but this place is going to feel empty without you," she said, sniffing.

"I'm only a train ride away," I said, patting her back. "And I've got my phone so you can call or text any time."

"Go on, get going. Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

I shake my head, pulling away from the hug. "I've got everything. I'll text you when we arrive."

She was developing a fresh round of tears, so I just gave her hand a squeeze and beat a retreat. I felt a bit guilty leaving her on her own, but she'd manage just fine. I couldn't spend my entire life keeping her company.

I jumped up into the van's cab, and seconds later we were pulling away, leaving my childhood home for the first time. I watched it grow smaller in the wing mirror, but any sentimentality I might have been feeling was rapidly destroyed by Dad.

"University girls are really easy, so it's important to practice safe sex," he said, pulling out in front of a cyclist and then roaring away. "Get plenty of condoms and never believe any girl who says she's on the pill."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, insincerely, grabbing a titty magazine off the dashboard and tossing it onto the floor.

I'd been feeling a little lonely when the van had been emptied into my new room, maybe a bit homesick, and almost felt like I could ask Dad if he fancied going for a coffee or something for an hour. But when I went to find him and ask, he was flirting badly with an obviously married woman who looked like a mum helping her own son to move in downstairs, so I abandoned it and said goodbye. One or two of my new flatmates had already arrived, and music was coming from one of the rooms, but I felt too shy to just barge in and introduce myself. I didn't want to hide in my room, either, so I made myself sit in the shared kitchen, boiling the kettle every ten minutes so if anyone came in I could offer them tea. After texting Mum, I scrolled around on my phone for an hour, wondering whether I was missing out on something happening elsewhere, when a voice appeared from the doorway.

"Hi!"

I looked up, and I'm reasonably confident that I just stared at her like an idiot. It was a girl, blonde ponytail, with square glasses which looked designer. She was wearing a dark green hoodie and leggings, carrying a box containing crockery. Even dressed casually, she instantly blew every girl at my school out of the water.

Ignoring my slack-jawed silence, she breezed into the room and put her box down on the counter. "Ooh, kettle just boiled, perfect. Are you having tea? I'm Lydia, by the way." She started digging through her box for a couple of mugs.

"I, um, my mugs are in the cupboard," I said, jumping up from my chair, which made a loud scraping noise on the cheap flooring. "I'll get one." I'd managed to sit there for an hour without unpacking a mug. Idiot.

"Oh, okay," she said, giving me another bright smile. "Have you got some milk in the fridge? My mum made me bring longlife milk, but it's in a box in my room, still."

"Um, yeah, there's some in there." I handed her my mug and she gave me another smile, this one more polite than bright.

"Which room's yours?" she asked, pulling two tea bags out of a box and dropping them into the mugs.

"Uh, I think it's 12D," I said, feeling like an idiot.

"Oh, I'm next door, 12E," she says, but her enthusiasm seemed to be fading.

It hits me. "Um, I'm Dave, sorry," I tell her, my face burning. I can't believe I didn't tell her my name. Idiot.

She brightens up again. "Hi Dave. Has anyone else arrived yet?"

"There's a couple of other rooms with stuff in but I haven't met anyone."

"We can go round and introduce ourselves once the tea's made. Is there like, a bin to put teabags in anywhere...?"

I won't bore you with the details of my first weeks at uni, but Lydia was an absolute bombshell. I'd never been so attracted to a girl in my life. She was smart, funny, sexy, confident and always seemed to have time to listen and talk. She'd often just come and knock on the door to my room to ask if I wanted a cup of tea, or just to hang out and watch a movie on her laptop. In fact, going into her room to watch a film was when I discovered her major flaw.

On her desk, right next to the laptop, was a framed picture of her and her boyfriend.

"Is that your...?" I asked, my voice faltering.

"Oh, yeah, that's Mark. I think I've mentioned him? He's a year older, studying at Lincoln," she explained, matter-of-factly. "He's gonna try and come and visit next week, see my new room."

Totally deflated, I sat on her bed, barely taking in the movie. Part way through, she shifted some pillows around and curled up, her amazing bum stretching out her now-signature leggings. I was sitting on a bed in a room with a hot girl who I really fancied, and she had a boyfriend. Fuck.

* * *

University study was a lot harder than I expected, and I struggled to keep up with the volume of research and reading they expected us to do. Luckily, unlike some other people I knew, living with just Mum for so long meant I was already pretty independent, and I didn't need as long to adjust to things like using the washing machine or cooking for myself. Mum texted me every day to ask how things were going, and we replaced our usual Saturday morning swimming with a Saturday morning phone call, but I gradually found that I didn't miss home as much as I thought. I joined the university football team and made the B squad, which I thought was pretty good going, especially since I had at least two more years to try and improve enough to make the first team. I also made some friends with other first-years on the team, which meant being added to a WhatsApp group and being invited for nights out in the city. A couple of severe hangovers later and I started to be more selective about which events to go to.

I kept up being friends with Lydia, even though her social life was rapidly increasing and I was feeling more like one of those platonic 'guy friends' than anything else. We texted a lot, which helped keep me from feeling too lonely when I was snowed under with work, and she was just a really fun and great person. She was obsessed with Lego for some reason, and had one of those million-piece kits on the go in her room. And, to my secret pride, she turned out to watch my first match in the B team, huddled on the sidelines in a huge fluffy coat and scarf. I fantasised about her dumping Mark and getting together with me, and how great it would be to have a girlfriend who literally lived in the next-door room. Being friends with Lydia made me feel like I was a proper uni student, with new friends and an independent life. When Mark visited (he was a nice guy, but kinda boring, I thought), I compulsively kept my headphones on and music playing just in case I accidentally heard them doing anything sexy through the wall. I knew I couldn't handle that. Lydia tried to get me and Mark to chat one evening, but we didn't have much in common and I couldn't help but feel resentful that he got there first.

With the studying and the football training, my first term pretty much flew by. By the time we were into the last week before the Christmas break, I was feeling more confident in my ability to handle the studying, and I'd even managed to have a couple of very minor flirty text exchanges with Lydia after a few drinks. It's probably a mark of how pathetic I was that I felt too shy to go after any of the girls who I met in the clubs on football nights out, even though some of my teammates were getting laid, but I obsessed over the exact tone of Lydia's texts. In any case, I booked my tickets to get the train home for Christmas, and Mum's daily messages got more and more excited as it got closer to me coming home. It was clear she'd missed having me around, even if I didn't feel like I'd missed her any more than usual.

The surprise of that week was one evening, when Lydia came and knocked on my door. She'd got used to just letting herself in, and she marched straight over to interrupt my work.

"So, we need to talk about where we're living next year," she said, sitting herself down on my unmade bed. "All the good houses go straight away in January when they release the housing list. Have you got any plans?"

I'd barely finished my first term, let alone thought ahead to next year. "Uh, no?"

"Good, I thought maybe you were gonna move to a football house or something. Anyway, there's this really nice two bed flat in the city centre that one of the third years on my course lives in. She's leaving, so it'll be vacant. Cheap rent, great location. I actually asked someone else first, but they've got plans, so I wondered if you wanted to move there with me."

It didn't feel great being the backup choice, but this was a golden chance to spend more time with Lydia.

"Yeah, definitely, sounds good. I need somewhere cheap, and the football lads will probably want one of those fully-serviced places anyway."

"Great!" Lydia said, flashing me one of those smiles I couldn't resist. "I'll talk to her and make sure we get in there first. I've been for a look around and it's great, don't worry."

I just nod. Lydia could have asked me to set fire to my trousers and I would have instantly complied, so this was no problem.

"I'll text you!" she says, already on her way out of the room.

Tons of holiday homework got dumped onto my plate over the rest of the week, and by the time I was locking up my room and departing for the station, over half the weight of stuff I was taking home was books. I looked in on Lydia to say goodbye, but she seemed to have gone out somewhere, so I texted her instead. I'd spent two days obsessing over whether it was weird to buy her a Christmas present, and eventually I decided it was. It was a freezing cold, icy day, and Mum had agreed to meet me at the station, so I kept her up to date on whether the trains were on time so she wouldn't need to hang around in the cold. Before I left Sheffield, I thought I'd stop for a haircut at a barbers near the station. I hadn't had my hair cut all term and it was getting way too long, and I knew Mum would complain about it when I saw her. I stepped into the warm shop and, surrounded by pictures of cool-looking guys with fades and beards, I thought I'd go for something shorter.
 
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Finally, in the early winter evening, my train pulled into the station and I stepped off, my breath white as I adjusted to the sudden cold. I couldn't see Mum anywhere on the platform, so I pulled my suitcase behind me and headed for the entrance. Part way there, a lump of coat, hat and scarf started waving frantically and rushed over.
"Dave! Wow, you look great!" she said, her cheeks red from the cold air. I could barely see any more of her, she was so wrapped up. "Your hair is so short!"
We had a big hug and then she reached out to take my case.
"Don't worry, I've got it," I reassured her, as we headed towards the bus stops.
"I've missed you so much! It's great to have you home," she says, and I detect she could soon be getting tearful, so I give her a quick one-armed hug to stall it.
"Let's get home and get warm," I told her. "Then we can catch up."
 
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Ch. 02


The first thing I notice about Mum when I get back is that she's looking really well, healthier than I remember. On closer inspection, I can see she's wearing makeup, which is unusual for a Saturday.
"Oh, it's nothing, I just wanted to try my new mascara before wearing it to the office," she explains, brushing me off as we take off coats and gloves in the hall. "I haven't touched your room, except for cleaning it, so you should be pretty comfortable."
Now she's back to just wearing a jumper and jeans, I notice that the jeans seem new. I figured with me away from home, she would have a little more free money, but she's not the type to go out and buy a new pair of jeans if her old ones are still wearable.
"New clothes?" I ask, trying to sound casual as she puts the kettle on.
"Oh, well, yes," she admits, sounding pleased that I noticed. "I, um, actually lost a bit of weight recently, so I needed the size down. Got these nearly-new in that charity shop opposite Costa."
So that's what I've noticed - she's looking healthier because she's lost weight. I'm glad I didn't say it myself, because she's been known to be touchy about things like that.
"Well, you look great," I tell her, and she gives me a soppy smile.
"It's pretty quiet here at the weekend, so as well as swimming I've been going to some exercise classes at the leisure centre," she says, pouring the tea. "It's been really good, practically free because of the membership and it keeps me from rattling around the house."
"Good for you," I say, leaning up against the counter with my eye on the biscuit tin.
"You look good, too," she says, a hint of pride in her voice. "The football training must be keeping you fit. And your hair looks a lot tidier now."
I laugh. "Well, I knew you'd notice my hair," I say, but I'm flattered by the compliment, even if it is just from my mum.
By the end of the evening, I've had half of a six-pack of beer which I suspect has been in the house since I left, and she's finished half a bottle of white wine and has got to a giggly phase.
"So, you're not coming home to tell me about a girl you've met?" she asks, her voice low even though there's nobody to overhear. "I was sure you would have found someone by now."
I shake my head. "No, still no girlfriend," I admit, but then I pause. Probably the beer clouding my judgement, because telling parents about love interests is never a good idea, but I went on anyway. "There's actually this girl, I-"
Mum interrupts. "Lydia, right? You've mentioned her a few times."
"Yeah, Lydia," I say, leaning back on the sofa. "She, well, she's got a boyfriend."
"Ahh," Mum says, giggling again. "That old dilemma."
"She's great, and she seems really happy with Mark. She wants me to be her flatmate next year."
"That's great! You know, if she ever breaks up with Mark, you'll be in the perfect place." Mum taps her nose and I shake my head, laughing.
"Whatever. I like her, she's a really good friend, but this whole situation is hard. I don't want to, you know, say anything, in case she gets weird about it."
Mum shrugs. "You need to do what feels right. If she's happy, maybe you need to move on and just keep her as a friend."
Dating advice from my mum. I must be at rock bottom here.
"In my opinion, she's missing out," Mum tells me, giggling again.
"Well, I'll tell her you said that," I say, grinning back. "I'm sure that will change her mind."
There's a pause and I sip my drink, tilting the can back to get to the beer at the bottom. I thought it was just a lull in the conversation, but I realise Mum has been working up to saying something.
"I wanted to tell you, Dave, but on the phone it didn't seem right... I thought I would try getting back into dating, now you're away." She avoids my gaze, but I smile.
"That's great, Mum. I really think you should go for it."
"I haven't really done anything, you know, it's all online these days and when I started losing weight from these exercise classes I thought I'd wait until I could take a really good photo. Eighteen years is a long time to be out of practice, and it all feels a bit strange."
I laugh. "Well, I don't think it matters that much what you put as your photo, you'll look good. But that's really great, I'm happy for you."
She blushes but smiles. "I'll let you know how it goes. But, not too much detail."
I groan. "Thanks, Mum."
"Bedtime," she announces, finishing her glass. "I know you don't have to get up for anything tomorrow but I still need to clean."
The Sunday clean gave me some less welcome evidence of my mum's return to the dating world. I'd finished washing up the dishes for Sunday lunch when I noticed the washing machine had finished its cycle.
"Mum, the washing machine is done!" I shouted up the stairs. She'd said she was going to go and clean the bathroom.
"Can you get the wet clothes out for me and hang them on the clothes horse?" she shouts back. "I've got wet gloves on at the moment."
Well, it's just one day, I told myself as I went to go and sort it out. Tomorrow she'd be back at work and I could lie in all day if I wanted.
Dumping the clothes out of the machine and into a basket, I set up the clothes horse in front of the radiator and started hanging things. I didn't want to bring too many clothes home with me, since my suitcase was full enough anyway, so I wasn't the typical uni student with bags of dirty clothing to wash. Most of the load was Mum's, especially work clothes, which needed hanging carefully to keep it from creasing. I worked my way through it, finding the occasional pair of workout leggings as well as the usual swimsuit from Saturday. However, I also discovered, in the delicates bag with her comfy work bras and sports bras, a pile of thongs. Now, I'm no expert on my mum's underwear, but she was very much a M&S five-pack kind of mum when I was growing up. This was definitely new, and more information than I wanted. But, I hung them up anyway and tried to forget.
Eventually, when she was putting the clothes away later in the week, she came clean about them.
"Asos online three-pack, really good value," she said, waving one around in my bedroom as I cringed away. "Perfect for wearing when I'm at the exercise class under my leggings."
Well, at least it wasn't an insight into her dating life.
The big event of any Christmas holiday in our house wasn't Christmas Day, which was usually just me and Mum eating in front of the TV, but Boxing Day. It was the one day in the year that Grandpa and Granny came over to see us, and Mum would do a whole massive meal, multiple courses, I had to be on my best behaviour and somehow there would still be a family row during pudding. Mum had virtually no other contact with her parents, but they had realised they would effectively never see their daughter and grandson again if they didn't make the effort one day a year. Of course, this meant Mum got into a huge stress about it all morning, dashing around, clattering away in the kitchen and generally making it my fault that things weren't going right.
"Okay, okay, I'll change," I say, rolling my eyes after she screamed at me to tell me that what I thought was a smart shirt was actually unacceptably sloppy. As soon as I'd pulled on a different coloured shirt, there's a knock at the door. I know I'm going to be expected to open it, but Mum couldn't shout at me this time because they might hear through the door.
"Hi Granny, hi Grandpa, come in," I said, smiling and taking their coats as they shuffled inside, a bottle of red wine clutched in Grandpa's hand.
"Parking was a nightmare as usual," he grumbled. "You'd think some people would be away over this period, but for some reason they're all here."
Mum appeared from the kitchen and exchanged a half-hearted hug with Granny and waved at Grandpa.
"Take a seat, dinner will just be another ten minutes," she said, sounding apologetic. Despite her harassed air, she'd done her hair into waves and she was wearing a smart dress, so she looked great, but nobody else seemed to notice.
"You look tired, Catherine," Granny said, patting her shoulder. "Are you sleeping well enough?"
Mum catches my eye and we both hold in a laugh.
"Parking was a nightmare," Grandpa repeats, loud enough for Mum to hear this time, but she ignores him.
I usher them into the living room, currently set out with the sofa pushed back and the table extended to seat four. Mum's found all the decent silverware, so all I need to do is entertain for ten minutes.
"Well, how's university treating you?" Grandpa asked once he was settled into his seat.
"It's good," I reply, smiling. "A bit of a different world, lots to study."
"You'll manage, I expect," Granny says, looking around the room. I know she's looking for things to criticise, but I keep my mouth shut.
"I'm on the football team. Well, the B team, but still," I say, and luckily this piques Grandpa's interest. We manage to pass the rest of the time until dinner chatting about football, while Granny sulks in her chair because there's nothing out of place in the room for her to criticise.
Dinner goes pretty much as expected. Mum is anxious to make sure everything is perfect, so when I accidentally spill some gravy on the placemat, I get a glare that could crack glass. Grandpa eats the entire thing happily in silence, but then declares afterwards that he's 'had better', and Granny goes on and on through the meal asking Mum a million awkward questions to try and get her upset.
By the time Mum puts a trifle down in the middle of the table and hands out bowls, I can tell she's seething underneath the polite smile.
"All I'm saying, Catherine, is that if you accepted our help, the situation could be different. I always thought you should have made more of yourself, I was saying to Andrea, you know, Mrs Young from the school, that I always thought Ian was a bad influence, but you wouldn't listen, and now look-"
"Okay, I know. I know I made some mistakes. Please, just leave it," Mum says, holding her head in her hands, trifle untouched.
"Well that's an understatement," Grandpa says, sniffing as he scrapes his spoon across the bottom of the bowl to get the last scraps of cream.
"So, I read somewhere that they're planning to start charging for parking on Church Street?" I say quickly, getting Grandpa back onto one of his pet hates. He starts chuntering on about council incompetence and Mum gives me a grateful look.
With dinner over, the relief is all over Mum's face as we shepherd the guests to the door.
"Lovely to see you," Granny says to me, holding my hand in hers and smiling, but when she turns to Mum, she just smiles tightly and turns away. They amble away down the street towards their car, already bickering with each other, and I push the front door shut.
"At last..." Mum sighs, collapsing into a chair. "Every year is such a nightmare."
"You shouldn't let them bully you," I say, still pissed off, but she just smiles.
"It's only a few hours a year and makes them feel like they're still in touch. I can handle it. Now, I need to see about the dishes."
I shake my head vigorously. "No way, you go and relax, I'll do the dishes. Seriously, you cooked all that, let me help you."
She gives me a look so happy I instantly know I've made the right decision. "Dave, you're a lifesaver. I'm off for a bath, then."
I smile. "Enjoy. Everything will be clean and tidy when you get out."
For some reason which has never been made totally clear, Mum kept all the nice silverware and dishes in a suitcase on top of her wardrobe, wrapped up in an old pair of curtains so they wouldn't get damaged. Once I'd washed and dried it all, she was still in the bath, so I went into her room to get the suitcase and the curtains so I could wrap it all back up again. The odd thing was, she'd tucked the suitcase out of the way beside the bed, and there was no sign of the curtains, a floral-patterned pair I'd never seen hung up anywhere. I'd expected them to be right there in the case, so I was totally thrown.
Shouting at my mum through the door to the bath seemed a bit helpless, so I hunted around the room, without any success. After a couple of minutes of searching, I remembered that she kept spare sheets and material in one of the drawers under her bed, and maybe she'd tucked the curtain material in there to keep it out of the way when she was moving the suitcase. I got down on my knees and tugged the drawer open, only to realise immediately that this was the wrong drawer.
The first thing I laid eyes on was a medical-looking tube of cream which I quickly realised was actually lube. Averting my eyes, I immediately saw a slim black cylinder which could only be a vibrator, lying next to, yes, a pink rubbery dildo. I didn't waste any more time examining any other contents there might be, slamming the drawer shut. My face felt hot and I took a couple of deep breaths, mind racing as I moved around to the other side of the bed and opened the right drawer. The curtains were lying neatly folded on top.
When I saw Mum at teatime, which was just cheese on toast after such a huge lunch, I had to try very hard to keep visions of sex toys out of my head when she was telling me how tired she was and how relaxing the bath had been. Once we'd eaten, she cleaned everything away and came back with a cold can of lager.
"A bribe?" she said, holding it just out of my reach. "I was on my feet all morning in the kitchen and they're absolutely killing me."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, but you have to keep your socks on. I don't want to touch your disgusting old-lady feet."
She just shrugged and handed me the can. "A yes is a yes, you can be as rude as you want."
Getting herself comfortable on the sofa next to me, her glass of wine on the coffee table, she parked her feet on my lap and tipped her head back, stretching out as I started rubbing my thumbs over the balls of her feet, her fluffy yellow socks wiggling as she shifted around to get me to rub the right spot.
"Wow, that's it, perfect," she eventually said, and I settled into a rhythm, trying to focus on the TV rather than her feet. It was one of her programmes so I wasn't interested, but it was better than nothing. We sat in silence for ten minutes until an ad break came on, when she reached out and turned the volume down.
"I bet you wish you had a girlfriend to rub your feet like this after you've played football, right?" she asked, and the slight tone in her voice made me look over at her wine glass, now empty. I also had my suspicions that a bottle might have made it into the bath with her.
"I suppose so," I say guardedly, pausing the foot massage to sip my own drink. She waited until I had gone back to rubbing her foot before saying anything else.
"Dave, I know this isn't a conversation you want to have with your mother," she said, after a pause, and my heart sank. "But, I saw that you'd been in my room and one of the bed drawers wasn't completely closed."
"Look, Mum, I'm sorry, I was looking for the curtains and I went in the wrong drawer, it's no big deal," I said quickly, feeling my cheeks burning. "We really don't have to talk about it."
She pulled herself into more of a sitting position, sliding her feet across my lap and making eye contact. "Listen, I know that as your mum I probably should have been better about having 'the talk' with you, but I never knew what to say to a boy," she admitted. "I always assumed your dad would do it, or someone at school."
"Dad's version of 'the talk' would definitely not be suitable," I said, unable to avoid rising to the bait even though I was desperate to avoid this conversation. "He'd probably think it was a chance to show off."
Mum giggled. "I expect so. But, now you're away at uni, I just worry a little that you're having new experiences and I haven't prepared you very well for all that."
I scoff. "Trust me, new experiences have been harder to come by than you'd think." Mentally, I smack myself. Why am I getting drawn into this?
"Well, I am hardly the right person to tell you what's right after getting pregnant at eighteen," she says, "but I do want you to feel like you can talk to me if you need to, okay?"
Sensing an exit to this awkwardness, I nod rapidly. "Definitely, I will."
Unfortunately, she interprets my new enthusiasm as a sign that I want to keep going.
"Now, I'm sure I don't need to go into the details about exactly what's under my bed, I assume we both now know, but, David, masturbation isn't something shameful for men or women." She catches my eye and I look away rapidly, cheeks burning more than ever. "It's important to feel like fulfilling your sexual needs, even if that's on your own, isn't something to be ashamed of. The, um, sex toys are just a healthy, natural part of that process."
I'm ready to be sick now and I squeeze my eyes closed to keep mental images at bay. "Mum, seriously, I don't need-"
"If I want you to be open with me if you need to be, then I need to set an example," Mum says, her confidence growing exactly when I don't want it to. "I use masturbation as both a way of relieving stress and for sexual pleasure."
My nausea is getting stronger, but I realise with sudden dread that my body is completely betraying me. Mentally I'm screaming for this to stop, but physically my dick is hearing about a woman touching herself and her feet have shifted up my lap so they're resting against my crotch. There's no way of denying it - totally against my will, I'm getting hard.
"The lube is because as women get older, natural lubrication is sometimes harder to come by," she explains, oblivious to my problems. "And, of course, it's essential if anyone's going to do anything with their bum."
I push her feet off my lap and clench my fists, determinedly looking straight at the TV. "Mum, I do not want to hear you talking about... bums," I announce, losing steam towards the end. "Seriously, can we just, drop this."
"Okay, Dave," she says, sounding a little annoyed as she pulls her feet back. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"Well you did a good job," I say, shifting my sitting position to hide my crotch. For a second, she pauses, and my wild mental state wonders whether she noticed, but she turns to face the TV without saying anything.
After a few minutes, I get up. "I'm going upstairs to read," I tell her, grabbing my drink.
"Okay, good night love," she says, watching me leave the room and shut the door behind me.
I want to be able to say I blocked the entire episode out of my head and put it down to a traumatic experience, but, being a teenage boy, there was no chance of that. As soon as I was in the privacy of my room, and fairly confident Mum wouldn't be getting up until the end of the programme, I'd pulled my trousers down, laid myself on my bed and I was wanking. In my defence, I was picturing Lydia naked with a vibrator, but I still felt pretty guilty afterwards.
 
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Ch. 03


Although we didn't say anything else to each other on any topic even remotely close to that for the rest of my time at home, there was actually a positive to come out of that whole debacle. I just had to wait until I was back at uni to find out what it was.

The first night I got back, Lydia was already there (she'd come back for New Year's, there was some party she'd been invited to) and obviously bored of there not being anyone around to talk to. She pounced as soon as I said I was free that evening, and pretty soon we were both sat on her bed in her room, watching some horror movie she'd said she'd really wanted to watch and then talked all the way through.

I blame the cider we were both drinking, but she finished a long story about how her dad had got drunk on Christmas Eve and started telling her and her sister about his 'racy escapades' when he was a young man and I felt compelled to weigh in with my own story. After telling her about how awkward it had been, she looked at me and shook her head.

"Let me tell you, I wish my mum was that open," she said. "If my sister hadn't told me a couple of things, I would have literally known nothing about sex. And anyway, masturbation isn't weird, everyone does it."

I could feel my cheeks burning again. "Okay, sure, whatever," I said, trying to move on.

"No, seriously," she said, grabbing my arm. "Do you want to see my vibrator? I use it all the time, it's amazing."

I shrug. A hot girl in her pyjamas is offering to show me her sex toy? I'm not going to say no. "Okay, if you want."

She rummaged through the bottom drawer next to her bed, giving me another painfully nice view of her bum, and pulled out a blue flexible shaft attached to some kind of vibrating base.

"Here. It's not weird at all," she said, waving it around. "I cleaned it, obviously."

When I was back in my room later, it took me no time at all to cum, thinking about exactly how Lydia was using her vibrator. The saddest part was, I reflected as I threw away the used tissues, this was probably the high point of my sex life so far.

It's sad to admit, but my entire second term at university passed in a similar way to the first. Lydia and I went down to some letting agent's office in the first week to sign the contract for our flat next year, and it was strange to think that we wouldn't even set foot in it until September. I kept improving at football, mostly because the level of competition was high and you had to be on your best game to stay in the team, and kept hopelessly chasing after Lydia. She seemed completely happy with Mark and never showed any interest beyond the occasional flirty moment, and I was probably overstating those in my head anyway. I was beginning to worry that she thought I was gay, since I never had any involvement with girls. At school, the only guys who weren't virgins were the really popular, cool guys, and a couple of others who'd had long-term relationships, but the majority of us were. Now, it seemed like everyone I ever spoke to was getting a ton of sex, while I showered alone every morning, fantasising about Lydia walking in on me.

It was getting easier to manage the workload, although I still spent a lot of time reading in my room or in the library, and as the weather slowly improved, I began to really wish I had a girlfriend. Every time I saw a nice-looking girl in the bar, or in a club, I wanted to 'make a move', but my thoughts always went back to Lydia and killed any interest I had in anyone else. I knew that, since Lydia was clearly not dumping Mark anytime soon, I needed some separation from her to clear my head and get over it, but I'd just signed up for at least a year living with her, so that was not about to happen.

Lydia still came to some of my football games, which I really appreciated, even though it was the closest thing I had to an actual girlfriend. She even hung out with some of the other players' girlfriends from time to time, blending in perfectly even though we were just friends. It was impossible not to imagine how amazing it would be if we were a couple, and so my frustration with my whole situation only grew.

Towards the end of term, when we were just starting to look towards the Easter holidays and the question of assignments and homework, on one of our weekly calls Mum brought up her online dating presence.

"I have taken a few pictures to use for my profile and I wondered if you would look at them? Give me a male perspective?"

I would have just rejected this, but she sounded nervous and I didn't want to crush her.

"I don't know whether you're asking the right person, Mum. The kind of guy you want to be dating is nothing like me."

"Well, I haven't got any other men to ask, and my friends will just be unhelpful," she explained. "There's only a few and they're boring, really."

"Okay, I can have a look. But I expect so long as you just look like yourself, you'll be fine."

As it turned out, she sent three photos and two of them were hopeless. One was a picture of her in the park with a low winter's sun practically obliterating her ("I thought it was mysterious!") and another was her at home watching TV which was not attractive at all ("More of a casual one?"). The third, thankfully, was a nice selfie of her after work, made-up and with her hair curled, but still looking work-casual. I told her to use it and she seemed grateful, even though, I reflected, I'd just discussed which photo of my mum would attract men the best.

Mark came to visit Lydia a week before the end of term. Officially guests were supposed to stay no more than two days, but he stayed for most of the week by sneaking in and out around the back of the building. He was a nice enough guy, but I could never shake the feeling of being inferior around him, since he was going out with the girl I wanted to be going out with, and I could tell Lydia felt upset that we didn't get on better. However, on the last night of his stay, my resentment reached a fever pitch.

I'd finished eating my tea but was procrastinating clearing up my dishes, so I was lying on my bed watching TV. I had some reading to do, but not too much, so I could afford to be lazy. There was a knock on my bedroom door, unexpectedly, so rather than shouting for whoever it was to come in, I sauntered over to answer it.

"Hi, um, I have a kinda awkward question," Lydia said, letting herself into my room regardless. Once the door was shut, she looked at me. "Me and Mark have run out of condoms, and I was wondering if you had one I could borrow...?"

My heart sank. I know it's ridiculous, but having physical proof of what they were getting up to really stung. Looking at Lydia, her hair was a little messy and her leggings (why was it always leggings?) were rumpled, like she'd just pulled them on a few minutes ago. Cursing my luck, I put on a smile.

"Um, oh, yeah, I do, hang on," I said, my desire to please her winning out. I pretended to search through my bedside drawers even though I knew full well there was an unopened box tucked in the bottom. I just wanted her to think I used them so much I could never remember where I put them. Or maybe that was worse, and made it look like I used them so rarely that I didn't know where they were?

Fishing out the box, I handed it over to her.

"Can I borrow this? I'll bring back the leftovers," she asked, jiggling the box in her hand.

"Yeah, that's fine," I said, keeping the resignation out of my voice. She gave me a quick happy hug and disappeared again. I immediately grabbed my book and put my headphones in, turning the music up to make sure I definitely didn't hear anything I didn't want to.

When the box came back the following day, four condoms were gone. I had no idea how they'd used four in one evening, but I was burning with jealousy. It goes without saying that my next set of mental fantasies centred around Lydia coming to my room and this time, me getting to use the condoms. But they were still only fantasies, and the reality of the situation was that someone else was having sex with her.

Clearly, my obsession with Lydia was starting to become a problem, because even Mum noticed. I made a point of only mentioning Lydia when strictly necessary on the phone, in case Mum got the wrong idea. Finally, when I left for Easter, I said my goodbyes to Lydia in a hurry, since she was going out somewhere just as I left, and I was in a bad mood all the way home on the train, reflecting on how pathetic I was, and obviously I hadn't cleared the black cloud when I saw Mum on the platform.

"Don't tell me this is about that girl Lydia," was the first thing she said, and my immediate denial told her everything she needed to know.

"Come on, we can talk about it at home," she said, giving me a second hug while other people leaving the platform had to dodge around us. I felt embarrassed but didn't want to say anything, in case it came across as angry and ruined our first evening back at home together.

She brought up the topic while we were eating tea (baked beans on toast).

"Don't you think that if Lydia was interested in you, something would have happened by now?" she asked, trying to sound as if she wasn't prying when she clearly was.

"I don't know, Mum. It's complicated."

She grinned at me. "How complicated can it possibly be?"

I shrugged. "She seems pretty happy with her boyfriend. I just don't seem to be able to move on."

This roused Mum's maternal sympathy and she put down her knife and fork for a second.

"David, honey, you're too down on yourself. You're a fit, attractive guy and you should be out having fun with lots of people. Even a few girls," she said, giving me a look. "Spending too long pining after one person isn't healthy."

Did my Mum just call me hot? I didn't dwell on it.

"I know that, I just, I can't seem to make myself do it. Whenever there might be a chance, I feel like it would be betraying Lydia."

"She has no problem betraying you with her boyfriend, so why shouldn't you do it to her?" She chewed a big mouthful of toast as I tried to think of a good response.

"I know, I just-"

"Listen, you need to meet a girl and have a relationship, even if it doesn't last. It'll show you that you can live without Lydia and you deserve someone who's just as interested in you as you are in here. Trust me," she said, reaching over and squeezing my arm.

"When did you become a relationship expert?" I asked, going back to my beans and toast. I knew what she was saying was true, and resolved that, even if all it meant was that I could avoid future conversations about my pathetic love life with my Mum, I would finally just do it and lose my virginity. It might even be better to do it with a random hookup, since if I was terrible, I wouldn't need to see her again.

My first step on this path was to try and imagine different girls when I was wanking. There was a fit girl in one of my seminars who I tried to picture, but it felt so much less realistic since I'd onlyspoken to her once ever. I cast around for other girls I knew - girls from school, hot celebrities, even a couple of younger teachers I'd had - but none of them felt real and all felt disappointing. The funk I got myself into, refusing to masturbate over Lydia, reached the stage that by the end of the second week of the break, I'd gone five days without any release and, as a horny eighteen year old, that was torture.

It reached Saturday and, as expected, Mum got me out of bed early.

"Come on, or we'll miss the quiet period," she said, flinging my washed swimming kit onto my bed since I hadn't collected it from the pile of clean laundry since last week. Now I was awake, I was resigned to it, and I dragged myself into the shower, my morning wood as hard as ever, but since we were in a hurry I couldn't do anything about it.

Initially, it was the same swim as usual, Mum getting in her regular lengths while I alternated between trying to keep up with her in the lanes and doing some diving and underwater swimming practice elsewhere. By the time we'd been in there three-quarters of an hour, my muscles were tired but Mum looked fresh.

"More of an all-round workout than football," she teased when she saw my exertion. "Are you ready to go?"

She pulled herself up the poolside ladder and dripped water all over me, which I wiped away with one hand as I followed her up. As we turned for the changing rooms, I spotted three girls about my age coming out of the ladies', all dressed in bikinis and wet from the shower. I ogled all three of them, deciding quickly that the middle one, a busty redhead, was the hottest. They were looking in the opposite direction to me so it wasn't too creepy to look at them, and I was just trying to burn the image into my head for later use when I bumped into Mum.

She'd stopped suddenly because her swimming goggles had slipped out of her hand and skidded a couple of feet in front of her on the poolside. She bent down to grab them, but since I was looking at a redhead's bikini and not at where I was going, I collided with her just as she was straightening back up again. My momentum was enough to cause her to lose her balance and start falling forward, but I reacted quickly enough to grab her waist and arrest her fall.

The only problem was, now I had my hands on my mum's waist, my crotch jammed up against her bum, she was half bent over still, I was semi-hard from looking at those girls and she was wearing just her one-piece swimming costume. Okay, maybe there were several problems. There was a split second of alarm as I registered what was going on, and then I let go and sprang backwards.

"Thanks, love," she said, standing up straight and turning to look at me. "I didn't realise you were right behind me, my fault."

"No, I wasn't looking where I was going," I apologised in return, my face burning. She smiled and, saying no more, headed towards the changing rooms. After a few seconds of shame, I went to the men's to shower and change.

I found the most effective method to get over the incident was just to pretend it never happened, and Mum didn't mention it either. She chatted away to me all the way home on the bus about how her yoga classes were going, and how she felt good because all the other mums that went weren't as flexible as she was, while I furiously focused my mind on my holiday assignments to try and keep my mind occupied. Unfortunately, my brain (and body) completely betrayed me when we got home and I jumped into the shower to clean off the pool's chlorine.

Still painfully horny, once I was naked and under the hot water, I could feel myself getting turned on and I started stroking my cock, mind drifting back to that redhead and what I would have given to help her take her bikini top off. It didn't take long for me to be close to climax, and I imagined her in the pool showers with me, topless, bending over as I stood behind her and prepared to push my cock into her...

And then it happened. The betrayal. My mental image of a slutty redheaded stranger suddenly became an auburn-haired older woman in a one-piece, my cock pressed up against her arse as she arched her back and I moved my hands from her waist onto her bum and...

Yes, I came thinking about Mum. Imagining her. Fantasising about her. And I didn't just cum, I came hard. Really hard. I sprayed so much that I had to spend a couple of minutes cleaning it off the tiled wall of the shower. I hadn't cum like that since I was last thinking about Lydia, who now seemed like something from the dim and distant past. The clear-thinking part of my brain was screaming "No!" while the very-turned-on part of my brain was screaming "Yes!" I'd discovered the realistic quality of fantasy that I wanted, the feeling of doing it with someone I actually knew. It just happened to be Mum.

As you can imagine, I spent the rest of the day, and in fact the rest of my time at home, furiously trying to justify it to myself. 'It's just a fantasy, it doesn't matter.' 'You'd never act on it, so what's the harm?' 'Even Mum said masturbating was healthy, who cares what's going on in your head!' But there was always that other part of me which was very much not okay with this. It felt disgusting, dirty, sick, even. I wondered if, mentally, I was okay or whether I needed to seek help. Normal people did not do this. I desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, get some advice, but who on earth can you tell that you just came thinking about your own mum? Careful internet searches in private mode seemed to yield two points of view. The first was: get help you sick fuck. The second was: it's natural, you should take it further. There was no way I was going to take it further. Just this, something Mum would never even know about, was bad enough.

Of course, I think I've mentioned that I was a horny eighteen-year-old boy. After studiously avoiding Mum all day, staying in my room and focusing madly on my assignments, promising myself over and over again it was just a one-time thing caused by going five days without wanking, and that I was going to find a girlfriend and put this all behind me, when I got into bed that night, I couldn't sleep. My hand strayed down onto my dick, and, yes, I masturbated and thought about Mum again. This time, I was grinding my cock against her arse and she reached behind, moved the swimsuit to the side and I pushed inside her, hearing her moans.

"You're so hot, Cathy," I imagined myself saying to her, and that made me cum. Calling her by her name while we were having sex. Not Mum any more, but my girlfriend, maybe. My fit girlfriend who I had hot sex with. And she was fit - she was in good shape from her swimming and yoga, her boobs were quite big for her petite frame, she had a great bum, and who didn't like women with red hair? I mean, she'd obviously been popular at school and Dad had been attracted to her enough to get her pregnant as a teenager. This was completely justified.

My mental state over the next week see-sawed between being disgusted with myself and finding it incredibly hot that I was now regularly fantasising about Mum. I caught myself looking at her tits, which admittedly weren't exactly on display beneath a comfortable jumper, or looking at her bum when she bent over to clean something in a faded pair of jeans. I had barely thought about Lydia in a week, which seemed like a perverse kind of progress, at least, and I was seeking out more incest content online, trying to understand my feelings and decide whether they were normal or not. I was pretty sure they weren't, but constantly craved any point of view which said they were.

Although I had four weeks off, I'd decided to go back after only three so I could use the library for some reading. This was a lifesaver, because after Mum's Thursday night yoga class, she came home in a pair of leggings that made her bum look amazing, and since she'd already told me she liked to wear thongs to yoga, I masturbated three times in the next twenty four hours thinking about fucking her in that exact outfit. Our final Saturday morning swimming was torture, every glimpse of her cleavage or her thighs stoking up my fantasies.

"Are you feeling over Lydia yet?" she asked as we made our way to the railway station for my departure. "You haven't talked about her much."

"I'm getting there," I said, trying to stay non-committal since this was touching on an uncomfortable area.

"Have you found someone else to focus on?" she asked, and I looked over at her, alarmed she might have guessed something. But she didn't seem any different to usual.

"Not really, but I will try," I told her, desperately hoping that my lingering glances and outright staring hadn't been noticed.
 
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"Next time you come home it will be for the summer!" Mum says, sounding excited. "It'll be great to have you back for an extended time. And, you can go back to mowing the lawn, which I hate." She grins, and I smile back, laughing a little. Even with my weird little fantasies, I still loved her for being my Mum and knew that I could rely on her.
My self-control about not obsessing about Lydia lasted until the first time I saw her after I got back, on a warm afternoon when she was wearing a summery dress which was working hard to contain her boobs. I realised, with a sinking feeling, that my attempts to stop thinking about her had just meant that now I had two women to fantasize about instead of one. It doesn't bear thinking about, how many times I masturbated and thought about them, even though my rational brain was yelling at me to stop. I badly needed a girlfriend, I decided, and deliberately signed myself up for a football team social on Saturday night. I was going to pull someone no matter what, I told myself.
This daring plan was totally derailed by a phone call from my dad in the middle of the week.
"Listen, Dave, I'm actually visiting a mate to pick something up in Sheffield on Saturday and I wondered if you'd be around?"
I hesitated. It was too cold to say no, so I hastily tried to think of something we could do to keep him away from embarrassing me in front of my friends. Luckily, he got there first.
"I thought we could go out somewhere for lunch and then spend the afternoon in town?"
"Okay, yeah, I can do that."
So far, so good, until he dropped the bombshell.
"And listen, Dave, you'd be doing me a massive favour if I could just kip overnight on the floor of your flat? I can't face a hotel."
My heart sank. So much for a Saturday night out on the pull.
"Okay, yeah, that should be fine," I said, but my half-hearted tone was obvious.
"Don't worry about me, I'll keep myself to myself," Dad insisted. "I'll go for a walk if you've got a lady friend to entertain."
"Not a problem, Dad, just... never say that again," I told him, through gritted teeth.
The strange thing was, my Dad was actually quite cool. Unlike some people's parents, who were mostly into crosswords and weeding the garden, he liked motorbikes, women and booze. He was tall, like me, with a shaved head and he was still in shape from all his work on the rig. I could see why he never had any problem finding women, but unfortunately, the appeal of the older man overshadowed whatever I was offering.
When Dad arrived at the flat, an overnight bag over his shoulder, we stopped in the kitchen for a drink and Lydia, plus a couple of girlfriends, looked in on us. All three of the girls got giggly when they got introduced to Dad, who turned on the charm and did plenty of flirting, acting shocked at how good they looked.
"Back in my day, uni girls all wore cardigans and no makeup," he said, chuckling as he sipped his tea. "Maybe I need to look into one of these degrees."
This sent them all into another giggling fit and, once they'd torn themselves away, I gave Dad a dark look, which he ignored.
"Tell you what, that one with the glasses is something, huh?" he said, grinning at me.
"That's Lydia, she lives in the room next to mine," I said. "And she has a boyfriend."
Dad shrugged. "At your age, boyfriends don't mean anything," he said dismissively.
"She's half your age, Dad, you should know better," I tried.
"No harm in looking!" he laughed, patting my shoulder. "Listen, mate, if I were you I'd forget about this so-called boyfriend and see about getting my end away with her. If nothing else, it'll give you something to look back on when you're my age."
I feigned being sick, but I was a guy who fantasized about his own mum, so who was I to be handing out the advice on what was right or wrong.
There was no way I could face the football social with my dad tagging along, and leaving him in my room on his own wasn't fair, so instead I took him out to a quiet local pub for a couple of drinks. There was no chance for me to pull, since I was the youngest guy in there, but I hadn't accounted for a gaggle of middle-aged office workers who were having a leaving do for one of their colleagues. Dad latched on to a group of women sharing a bottle of white wine and worked his magic, meaning that by closing time, he was sharing a taxi with a dark-haired woman who was at least close to his own age, and I walked home on my own.
Don't wait up! Dad texted me, and I ignored it. I had to be the only guy in the world who was going to be alone on Saturday night while his own Dad scored with a woman he just met. Absolutely sickening.
I wasn't in the best mood, obviously, when I got back, but one ray of light was the fact that Lydia was sitting in the kitchen, wrapped in a dressing gown.
"I thought you were out with the girls?" I asked moodily, grabbing some cereal from the cupboard.
"Imogen got sick, I think someone might've tried to spike her drink," Lydia explained. "We took her back to her flat and put her to bed, but it ruined the night, really."
I just grunted in response, and Lydia picked up on my mood.
"Where's your dad?" she asked.
"Out," I said flatly.
She studied my expression, but couldn't resist teasing me. "If I'd known your dad was so hot, I would've changed my plans," she grinned.
I slumped into the chair opposite her and shook my head in disbelief. "Not you too," I said, defeated.
"He's not really my type," Lydia reassured me, "But you should've heard Imogen going on and on about him. She practically wet her pants when he said that thing about cardigans."
Lydia had been giggling just as much as the others, but I decided I had to forgive if I was going to move on.
"He's always had a way with women," I admit, sighing. "Don't tell him about her being interested, it'll only encourage him."
Lydia smirked. "I expect she'll only take it as far as her imagination," she said suggestively, "I mean, if she wasn't so sick."
Hot uni girls fantasize about my dad, but I can't get any action. Perfect.
I sat, brooding, for a few minutes more, and then Lydia got up.
"I'm going to bed. Might as well make the most of not being hungover in the morning and get up early," she said. "Might see you around?"
I just nodded, watching her go. I was too gutted even to masturbate, and the icing on the cake of the crap weekend was when Dad just texted to say Thanks for seeing me, I'm gonna get a train straight from Shirley's, talk soon and Lydia got invited to a theatre event so I didn't even see her on Sunday.
Exams consumed what was left of the term, which meant there was hardly any socialising, and even my study sessions with Lydia really meant studying, instead of talking and pretending to study. I repeatedly told myself that I'd finally score the shag I wanted at the post-exam blowout parties, but Lydia finished her exams three days before mine and immediately went to stay with Mark for a week. We texted, of course, but a lot of my texts went unanswered and I got the impression she was having a lot more fun than I was.
Finally, I got myself out for a football social after my exams finished. We were starting with a bar crawl and then hitting some clubs, and I made every preparation to get some action. Aftershave, a new haircut, my best clothes. By the time we arrived at the first nightclub, I'd had plenty to drink and felt confident, and I couldn't believe my good luck when I got chatting with a good-looking girl in a tight red dress while we were waiting at the bar.
"I'm Tanya," she practically shouted into my ear over the music.
"Dave," I replied, then had to repeat it because she didn't hear it.
I let her go first to get her drinks, but as she collected them, I realised I was missing my chance.
"Do you want to dance?" I shouted at her before she could go.
"Okay," she replied, nodding but not smiling. "Let me give these to my mates, first."
She disappeared into the crowd and, once I had my drink, I stayed near the bar and waited for her to come back. You probably already guessed it, knowing my luck, but she never returned, and even when I wandered around the club, I couldn't see her anywhere. Eventually I concluded she must have left, and saved my ego by convincing myself it was because her friends wanted to leave, not because she was repulsed by me.
Half an hour before closing, I was so desperate that I started hitting on a woman with tons of piercings who was definitely not my type at all. She seemed receptive, and I was completely smashed, so I kept it up until my mates arrived, took one look at her, and dragged me away despite my protests. I woke up the next morning with regrets, a hangover, an empty wallet and still no idea how I'd spent an entire year at uni and not even had sex once. I consoled myself with elaborate daydreams about getting rid of Mark and Lydia falling into bed with me, but even that was growing tiresome. The summer break was three months long, and I'd have to spend all three of them in a small house with Mum, trying to pretend I didn't think she was hot.
The summer break was pure sexual torture. The object of my dreams who I might be able to get (Lydia) was too far away, and her texts got sparser and shorter as the summer went on. The other object of my dreams was way too close for comfort. Weekly swimming, which Mum looked forward to so much, started to turn into something I dreaded. I forced myself to cum in the shower before we left, so I would feel as far away from horny as possible, but this only annoyed Mum ("you can shower there!") and didn't do me much good anyway. By the time we'd travelled to the pool, got changed and I saw her in her swimming costume, I was back to lusting after her. She looked gorgeous, her curvy figure accentuated by the tight-fitting costume, and in the few moments I wasn't staring at her myself, I could see middle-aged dads checking her out too. I felt grossed out by this, but I was hardly any better myself. It would be so much easier if Mum was just a total stranger at the pool, so I could admire her guilt-free like all those other guys. But it was my curse to have to go home with her afterwards.
I'll be completely honest here: I was a horny mess. By the end of July, whether it was the hot nights or the total lack of sex in my life, ever, or even just some hormonal cycle, I was practically turned on every minute I wasn't asleep. And even then, I occasionally woke up feeling like I must have just had a sexual dream, but unfortunately I couldn't remember it. When Mum was at work during the week I could put on headphones and masturbate to porn on my laptop as much as I wanted, but that was getting boring. A couple of slightly-drunk text messages to Lydia which were flirty didn't get any response. I'd even gone as far as looking up some girls from my old school and thinking about messaging them, but that seemed way too desperate considering most of them had barely liked me in the first place. All of this constant horniness had built up to a climax I didn't see coming, and it needed an outlet. That outlet came one night, very suddenly, and it was a night which would change my life.
It was a Friday night and Mum had been working until fairly late. When she came in, she was carrying fish and chips and apologised for the delay - apparently there had been a double-booking for Monday or something and she'd had to stay and help sort it out. In an attempt to not feel so horny, and to take my mind off morning swimming, I'd actually tried to do some of my summer assignments that day, so actually I didn't mind the delay. It was the start of the weekend for Mum, so we watched TV and she finished half a bottle of wine, complaining loudly about one of her colleagues while I pretended to listen, sipping my way through two cans of beer. Mum had changed out of her work clothes into comfy pyjamas and, while she still looked amazing, it wasn't exactly sexy enough to get my mind racing and keep my attention.
"I'm absolutely exhausted, I'm going to run a bath," she eventually announced, apparently unable to face the prospect of the ten o'clock news. "You gonna stay down here?"
I shrugged. "Probably for a bit."
"Turn the volume down a few notches so you don't disturb the neighbours," she said as she ambled off, taking her empty wine glass with her. I heard the fridge door open, which meant she was getting the rest of the bottle to drink in the bath, then she went upstairs.
I thought no more about it, distracted by something I was reading on my phone, until about half an hour later, when the TV was reading out the weather forecast, a message popped up on my phone.
Mum: Did you turn the TV down? x
I rolled my eyes and turned the volume right down with the remote. I wasn't watching it, anyway, only keeping it on so I didn't have to sit in silence.
Me: Just did, sorry
There was a lull and I went back to reading my article, interrupted when my phone went off again.
Mum: Still haven't had any messages from decent men on my online dating app!! Meant to tell you earlier but I forgot x
Me: You don't need to keep me informed about your online dating
Mum: I'm always interested in your love life
Me: Too interested!
Mum: Surely I'm not too old yet that you think I'm disgusting?
Me: You know I don't think that, you look amazing, any guy would be lucky to date you
Mum: Do you mean that? :)
Me: Yeah
Mum: Maybe I could get to know a guy from the pool, there always seem to be some who are interested
Me: Seriously?
Mum: Why not? At least we'd have one thing in common
Me: What if they're all perverts or whatever, picking up women at the pool
Mum: And you think guys online dating aren't?
Me: True!
Mum: Anyway I know that they aren't all perverts
Me: How can you possibly know that
Mum: Maybe they're just sexually frustrated!
Me: Old guys always are
Mum: Who said he was old?!
I had to take a pause here. My heart had started beating fast and I felt a flutter of nerves. What was going on? Were we flirting? Was Mum implying she knew I looked at her when we were swimming? There definitely weren't any other guys there who were my age, but maybe she just meant a guy in his twenties or thirties. I was convinced I was overthinking it.
Me: The leisure centre isn't exactly full of young people, everyone goes to the new gym in the retail park
Mum: I bet nobody is sexually frustrated there!
Me: Ha ha. I definitely wouldn't want to use the changing rooms if they hadn't been cleaned
Mum: Why? Are they dirty?
Me: I meant that they're all having sex there
Mum: Ohh I get it. I should go there, then! ;)
Me: I would join you!
Oh crap.
So, obviously I meant, I would also like to go to the new gym in the retail park if everyone was having sex there, because that meant I could have sex. Totally separately from Mum. Not together, at all. I didn't mean I wanted to join her. But, I can already hear the reaction: "that was totally subconscious, just your fingers typing what you really meant". Maybe recurring fantasies about fucking my mum in the changing rooms at the leisure centre had finally come back to haunt me. In any case, I panicked and started to type a retraction, to clarify things, to apologise. But I saw 'Mum is typing...' appear and I held my breath.
Mum: Do you think someone your age would be interested in me?
Okay, not the end of the world, but this is definitely weird, right? I needed to apologise and tell her what I meant. But, there was the faintest glimmer of something there. A possibility. It crossed my mind that Mum was probably naked in the bath right as she was typing and I couldn't stop myself.
Me: Definitely!
Mum: What would someone your age like about me?
Me: You look amazing, you're really pretty, funny, smart...
Mum: Would they think I looked good?
Me: Of course, you look really good for someone your age
Mum: I mean would they think I was fit? Sexy?
Briefly, memories of school friends making idle comments about how fit my mum was flashed across my mind. Obviously she was sexy. But I was increasingly concerned that 'someone my age' was code for something else.
Me: They would
Mum: Would they share a changing room with me?
Okay, even my horny side was starting to freak out. What was I supposed to do here? This was clearly flirting. But was it just harmless flirting to help Mum's ego? Was she serious?
Me: If you gave them a chance, yeah!
I waited, anxious, tense, my heart beating a billion times a minute. But Mum didn't reply right away, and when she did, it wasn't what I expected.
Mum: OK. Don't stay up too late watching TV x
Me: I won't...
And that was it. End of conversation. I heard Mum getting out of the bath and draining it, then getting ready for bed and turning her light out. I stayed downstairs, re-reading the conversation, my brain screaming that something had happened, something was going on. I just didn't know what.
The next morning, we ate breakfast and then headed for the pool without saying anything on the topic. I half-expected Mum to proposition me and suggest we share that changing room, but she didn't, obviously, and our swim was as normal as it could be. I still caught myself staring at her cleavage and her bum, but that wasn't new. She didn't seem embarrassed or guilty, like I felt, and as the weekend passed I convinced myself that it was just some harmless banter and I was the weird pervert reading something into it.
I managed to maintain this illusion for exactly a week, until Mum decided to repeat Friday night. This time, admittedly, we had home-cooked fish fingers, chips and peas, but after an hour of TV, Mum departed to the bath with her wine. I switched off the TV this time, stretched myself full length on the sofa, and tried to get into a book I was supposed to be reading for an assignment. Inevitably, my phone went off and distracted me.
Mum: Have you heard from Lydia lately? x
Me: Not really, I think she might be on holiday
Mum: Can't she text you from her holiday?
Me: Probably, I don't know
Mum: Sounds like you've moved on!
Me: Maybe I have
Mum: Got someone else on your mind?
Me: I might do
Mum: You have to tell me all about her!
Me: She's gorgeous, attractive, huge smile, and huge something else...
Mum: Don't be dirty! How come you haven't mentioned her before?
Me: I'm sure I have
Mum: I would remember! Do you text her?
Me: Yes
Mum: Do you want to take her to the gym? ;)
Me: Now who's being dirty?
Mum: Sorry! But answer the question
Me: Maybe I do
I was so confused. My cock was absolutely as hard as a rock in my trousers, painfully so, restricted by my underwear, but part of my mind was still screaming at me to stop. On the other hand, I felt like Mum was totally instigating all this so it's not like it's my fault. And anyway, even though it definitely seemed like flirting, maybe Mum still thought this was just her trying to be encouraging and more open?
My final attempt to kid myself went up in smoke when I saw her next message.
Mum: Are you thinking about being at the gym with her right now? x
It was the kiss on the end of the message that just sealed it. There was no way Mum was oblivious enough not to know how I would interpret it. If my girlfriend had texted me that I would be going wild with desire, so Mum must know it's wrong. And she sent it anyway. There was no way I was going to be the bigger person at this stage.
Me: I definitely am...
Mum: What are you doing with her?
Me: We're showering together
There was a longer pause this time before Mum texted me back. I spent most of the pause rubbing my cock through my trousers, incredibly turned on by this whole situation.

 
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Mum: Just showering?
Me: Maybe a bit more than just showering
Mum: Like what?
And here is the point of no return. Three paths lay before me. One was to back out, fold my hand, apologise, put things back to normal and never think about this again. One was to keep being vague, bluffing, playing for time. Finally, I could be more open, lay my cards on the table and see whether my bet was right. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I put the cards down.
Me: Like having sex
The reply was almost instant.
Mum: You want to have sex with her?
Well, I was already committed.
Me: Yes
Mum: Are you thinking about that now?
Me: Yes
That was the last thing Mum texted to me that night. After five or ten more minutes, she drained the bath and went to bed, leaving me throbbing with desire on the sofa. I wondered whether she wanted me to go upstairs, to talk to her, but the fear that I might be right and something might happen kept me rooted to the spot. I read and re-read the conversation, trying to puzzle it out, but the only conclusion I could come to was this: my mum was into this.
At least the following morning, at breakfast before swimming, Mum had the decency to look embarrassed. When I came downstairs and said hello to her in the kitchen, she blushed and looked away at first, but overcame this and by the time we left for swimming, things seemed normal again. But something was definitely different, there was a charged atmosphere, and we could both feel it. Mum seemed to be touching me more - my hand when I sat down, my arm when she wanted my attention - and when she went to get the house keys, we almost bumped into each other and I steadied her with my hand on her waist. There was a split second of recognition, then she pulled away, averting her gaze. Finally, when we arrived at the pool, just before splitting off to the men's and women's changing rooms, she seemed like she wanted to say something, but couldn't. Instead, she stepped close and kissed my cheek. She'd never done that before, not since I was a little kid, but before I could react she was gone into the changing rooms. Should I follow? There were people around and it would look weird. I stuck to the men's.
I didn't see Mum much during the week, just in the evenings, but the new, exciting possibilities that had opened up kept me hanging on every moment we spent together. Every night I wondered if I might get a text from her, whether this was it. Every night I wondered, too, whether she was going to reconsider and freak out, banish me from the house or something. Either way, nothing happened. Until Friday, of course.
This time she couldn't leave for her bath fast enough as soon as we were done eating. I offered to wash up, and as she went to the stairs, I said:
"Let me know if you need anything."
She paused, looked at me, smiled, and carried on. I had meant it genuinely, in case she needed a refill of wine or a magazine or something, but going over it in my head it definitely could be interpreted differently.
After half an hour, as I tidied up the kitchen, my phone buzzed.
Mum: I need something
I stepped into the living room and sat on the sofa. Holy shit. Was this it? The moment?
Me: What's up?
Mum: Can you tell me about this new girl you're thinking about?
Me: What do you want to know?
Mum: What does she look like?
I wasn't as horny and worked up as the previous week, so I couldn't be bold enough to lay my cards out again. I bluffed.
Me: She's got brown eyes, a great figure, keeps herself in shape
Mum: Is she blonde?
Me: No
Mum: Brunette?
Me: Still no
I had no idea what I would do if she asked about red hair, but I dodged that situation.
Mum: Does she go to uni with you?
Me: No
Mum: School?
Me: No
Now there was a minute's pause.
Mum: Is she older?
Me: Yes
Another pause. How many older redheads did my mum think I knew? This had to be it.
Mum: Are you thinking about her?
Me: Yes...
Mum: What's she doing?
Something inside me just had to know. Something unequivocal. A guarantee.
Me: She's in the bath, touching herself
I hit send. This was it. Either my Mum would disown me, scream the house down and I'd be homeless, or something exciting was about to happen. I watched the 'Mum is typing...' message appear, holding my breath.
Mum: You're good at guessing
Oh fuck. No crazy shit. No being thrown out of society. My Mum just confirmed she was touching herself, to me. She's up there, right now, in the bath, rubbing her pussy. And texting me. I'm turning her on. Fuck. Where do I go from here? Did she want me to go up and join her? Before I could text back, Mum sent another message.
Mum: What do you want her to do?
I didn't hesitate.
Me: Send a pic
There was a couple of minutes where nothing happened. I started second-guessing myself. Had I fucked up? Gone too far?
The picture arrived and I opened it like a starving man opens a packet of crisps. It wasn't amazing, a little blurry and the lighting was too dark, but it was unmistakably my Mum, in the bath. She was surrounded by bubbles, and lying down far enough that her boobs were hidden. She had her hair pinned up by a large hair slide, which looked incredibly sexy, and while one hand was holding her phone, the other was clearly between her thighs. It was underwater, so I couldn't see for definite, but I didn't need that. I undid my trousers, pulled out my cock and started stroking it, squeezing hard, unable to believe that I was actually masturbating to a picture of Mum.
I realised I needed to reply.
Me: You're so sexy, I'm really hard
Mum: Send a pic
I actually laughed out loud a little. She'd called my bluff like a pro. I'd never taken a dick pic before, I wasn't sure how best to do it, but I figured it didn't matter too much. I opened up the camera and focused on my hard shaft, wrapping one hand around it. It was slightly too dark to take a great picture, but who cares. I attached it to the text and pressed send.
Mum: Wow
I didn't text back, too busy rubbing my cock, and then I heard the bath draining. I decided not to go upstairs unless Mum specifically asked me to, just in case. She didn't text again, and I heard her going to bed. Needless to say, I blew a huge load staring at her photo, then immediately regretted everything. We were going to have to have a serious conversation in the morning and I was dreading it. This time we'd crossed a line - this wasn't playful flirting, we'd seen pictures of each other which were clearly sexual. We'd all but said we wanted to fuck each other. This wasn't something we could just not mention and move on.
When we had breakfast the next morning, we didn't say anything. But the atmosphere was definitely there. Playful. Sexy. Mum bent over to pick up a fork she'd dropped and made sure I was watching. I skipped my usual shower and made a comment about getting dirty at the pool, which made her giggle. I couldn't believe it. It had worked.
We swam like usual, although usually we managed at least forty minutes and today Mum seemed satisfied after less than thirty. She looked even hotter than ever in her swimming costume and I had to try very hard not to get aroused from looking at her. Every cell of my body seemed to be tingling with anticipation, waiting for the moment that something would happen. I was sure she was going to make a comment, invite me into the changing rooms or something, but I couldn't see how it would work. The other women getting changed would notice something immediately if I tried to walk in. In the event, she gave me a hot look, but we went our separate ways. The men's changing room was quiet, just a couple of older guys slowly towelling themselves, so I locked myself into a cubicle and tried very hard not to touch myself as I changed out of my wet swimming shorts.
There was a sudden rap on the door and, when I opened it, towel around my waist, my dreams suddenly came true. Mum ducked inside quickly, shutting the door behind her and locking it. She was wet from the shower, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she stood facing me, eyes on mine. I opened my mouth to say something, but she put a finger on her lips to tell me to be quiet. She was still wearing her swimming costume, and as I looked down I could see her nipples poking through the wet fabric. She followed my gaze and, in one glorious movement, pulled the armbands over her shoulders, rolling the costume downwards and exposing her tits.
I could've cum right there. Her boobs were even sexier than I'd expected: she had big, pink nipples, the top of her cleavage was freckled and showed her age, and they were sagging slightly below where a porn star's tits would be. But to me they looked incredible. The look on my face must have been a sight to behold, because Mum cracked a smile and gently pushed them together with her shoulders. Once again, I opened my mouth to whisper something, but she shook her head and shushed me. She dropped to her knees and gave my towel a sharp tug, my cock bouncing free in front of me, already hard. In a second she had wrapped her lips around the tip, cupping my balls gently with one hand, holding my shaft in place. I groaned softly, surprised by the sensation, and she gently worked the whole head of my cock into her mouth. I was so busy trying to process the completely insane fact that my cock was in my mum's mouth that I was ignoring the messages my cock was trying to send, loud and clear. I only realised at the last moment and gripped her shoulder to let her know. She kept her lips in a tight ring around the base of the head of my cock and, with a few gentle strokes, she made me cum in her mouth. I shot blast after blast of cum into her, desperately trying to keep quiet, but she stayed steady and just took it. When I was done, she eased herself off, giving my cock a final squeeze, and swallowed my load.
She put a finger to her lips for the final time, rolled her costume back up and adjusted her tits so they fit properly, then stepped out of the cubicle. I heard one of the old guys make some noise of surprise, but Mum confidently said, "Needed my locker key," and left. I was reeling, and I had to lean against the edge of the cubicle to get my breath back. Mum had just sucked my cock. Given me a blowjob. My first blowjob. She'd made me cum and swallowed it. Right now, she could still taste my cum, on her lips and her tongue. Okay, it had lasted about twenty seconds, but it still counted. She'd shown me her tits. I'd seen her boobs. What really blew my mind, though, as I grabbed my clothes and started to get dressed, was the fact that this was only the beginning.
We went home from the pool practically in silence, and I guessed we were both wondering what we could possibly say to each other. Certainly nothing we wanted overheard. And, when we got home, Mum grabbed my arm and led me to the dining table.
"I think we need to have a chat," she said, her tone more serious than I would have liked.
"Can't I shower first? I stink of the pool," I protested.
"After," she said firmly, sliding down into a chair opposite mine.
We looked at each other for a few seconds. Mum was wearing an old t-shirt and jeans, which definitely made her look more like a mum than the gorgeous woman who just sucked me off. But that better fitted the mood of the conversation.
"Dave, if we're going to have an adult relationship, we need to talk like adults," she finally said, making eye contact.
"Okay," I said, nodding slightly. I had to admit, as awkward as this felt, being able to clear the air did seem like a good idea.
"Obviously we're both attracted to each other. And we're both looking for an outlet for our sexual feelings," Mum said, slowly. "And, since we're both two consenting adults, I don't think there's anything wrong with that."
I felt a rush of relief. At least this wasn't her trying to end everything. Mum must have noticed the relief on my face because she smiled.
"I'm not freaked out or angry with you, love," she said, reaching out to hold my hand across the table. "This is at least as much my fault as yours."
"I don't think there's anything wrong with it either," I blurted, wanting to back her up. She gave my hand a squeeze.
"But, whilst having a sexual relationship can be fun, I don't think it's completely healthy in the long term. At the very least, we need to set some boundaries."
"Okay," I said, squeezing back. "That makes sense."
Mum gave me another smile, pleased I was so understanding.
"First and foremost, I'm still young enough to get pregnant so we need to practice safe sex. I'm on birth control but we still need to use condoms."
I have to admit, the thought of getting Mum pregnant hadn't even crossed my mind. I squirmed slightly with embarrassment, but admittedly, any girl my age would want to use condoms so it wasn't unusual.
"Okay," I said. "I, um, left my condoms at uni, I didn't think I'd need them."
Mum laughed. "I'll get some next time I go shopping. The second thing is, I don't think it's healthy for us to act like a boyfriend and girlfriend."
I just looked at her and she looked at me.
"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.
Mum sighed slightly. "I want you to grow up and find a girl and settle down, eventually. I'm always going to be in your life, so if we live together like a couple, you're not going to go looking for a girlfriend."
"But, you're everything I want," I assured her. "I don't need to find a girlfriend-"
She cut me off. "This is exactly what I mean, David. It's not healthy for us to act like an exclusive couple because, even if we break up, I'm still your mum. It's really important to me that you still consider yourself single and keep looking for someone long-term."
A vision of Lydia flashed into my head and I blushed a little. Most guys would grab this with both hands: a hot older woman who wanted sex but didn't have a problem if I slept with other girls! But I still felt uncomfortable.
Mum sensed this. "I won't be jealous, don't worry. And, so that we don't end up feeling like a couple, I want to limit sex stuff to just one day a week. Saturdays."
Woah.
"One day a week?" I spluttered.
Mum was deadly serious. "I'm at work for five days, which doesn't leave much time, and I don't want to completely change the weekend routine. We already spend Saturdays together so it makes the most sense."
"But-"
She looked stern and I backed down.
"Okay, Saturdays."
She smiled. "Okay."
There was a pause and we kept looking at each other. I wasn't sure if she had anything else she wanted to talk about.
"Do you have any questions of your own?" Mum asked, trying to get me to open up.
I thought about it. "Um, what about when I go back to uni?"
"We can do stuff on the phone, or text, but only Saturdays," she said firmly. "Just make sure none of your friends see it."
I laughed. "They definitely won't."
She nodded. "You can ask questions any time. Not just on Saturdays," she smiled. "I do have one thing I want to ask you, though."
"Anything is okay," I told her.
She seemed more nervous now than at any point of the conversation, but she made herself go through with it.
"I don't know, but if you want to call me mummy, if that's what turns you on, then-"
I shook my head. "No way, no, absolutely not. Ew."
She smiled with relief. "Oh thank God, I really wasn't sure about all that. I read this article about something called a mummy kink and I didn't want you to-"
I stopped her this time. "It's fine. Actually, would it be okay if I called you Cathy?"
Mum looked at me for a second.
"Just on Saturdays," I said, to clarify. "The rest of the week you're still Mum."
She nodded. "I think that's okay," she said.
"Thanks, Cathy," I tried it out. Mum blushed a little, and I could feel some stirrings in my underwear.
"Can I go for my shower now?" I asked, running one hand through my chlorine-y hair. "I'm starting to itch."
"Of course," Mum said, getting up from the table. I wanted her to come with me, but I didn't want to push her too fast, so I just went on my own. Just as I reached the door, she spoke up.
"Are you a virgin?"
I stopped in my tracks and turned to look back at her. My face felt like it was burning red.
"Um, yes," I admitted.
She nodded. "Okay, I just wanted to check."
I left, still trying to tell myself it was perfectly normal to still be a virgin at my age. What was less normal, obviously, was considering losing it to my mum.
We didn't share a shower, and in the end, we didn't actually really do anything for the rest of the day. I kept calling her Cathy, which we both seemed to like. I liked the sound of Cathy and Dave as a couple. I waited for her to make the first move, but she didn't, and then I wondered if I should. After dinner, I stopped her and kissed her cheek, resting my hand on her waist, but she just kissed me back and walked away, smiling. I had no experience with women and no idea what to do.
In the end, I just sat on the sofa watching the evening kick-off while Mum half-watched and half-read a magazine. I was thinking about the question of whether she'd want to share a bed with me, when she put the magazine down.
"You didn't last very long in the changing room," she said, abruptly.
I turned to stare at her, and she had a playful smile on her face.
"Well, I, uh, wasn't expecting-" I stammered, trying to think of an excuse.
"Do you want to try again?" she asked.
I just nodded dumbly. Mum got up, moved over in front of me and settled onto her knees, between my legs. I just stared as she undid my trousers and pulled them, and my underwear, down to my knees, freeing my cock, which was hard again just from this. She smiled and took it in one hand, stroking gently.
"I don't mind if you want to watch the football," she teased, looking straight into my eyes.
I shook my head. "Um, can I see your tits again?" I asked.
She nodded, letting go of my cock so she could pull her t-shirt over her head. She was wearing a white bra, which she undid from behind and then dropped onto the floor. There were her tits again, and now my cock was painfully hard.
There was a noise on TV, a shot which hit the post, and it caught my attention briefly. Mum took the chance to lean forwards and push my cock into her mouth, using the tip of her tongue to tease the tip of my cock as she did it. I groaned, instantly looking down at her mass of gorgeous red hair as she sucked, sliding a little more of my shaft into her mouth. One hand was stroking my shaft and I could feel her tongue now on the underside of the head of my cock, rubbing it, and again I had to grab her shoulder.
"Cathy, I'm gonna-"
She never let up, and with a moan I shot a second load into her mouth. I wasn't timing it, but I must have only lasted slightly longer than the first time. She kept her head in place, swallowing my cum and then using her tongue to clean the sensitive head of my cock, making me moan again.
When she pulled back, she gave me a little smile.
"We'll work on your stamina," she said, scooping her bra and shirt off the floor. "I'm gonna go to bed now, though."
"Okay," I said, dazed, my wet cock slowly deflating.
"See you in the morning." She gave her boobs a quick squeeze and then walked off, leaving me to wonder how I was going to survive the week.

 
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Ch. 04


Having a whole week to reflect on the situation played on my nerves. Firstly, I was paranoid about someone finding out. Maybe a neighbour would hear through the wall. Maybe Dad would find out, somehow. What if I talked in my sleep? Secondly, when I looked at the calendar, I was due to return to uni in three weeks. That meant just two more Saturdays at home with Mum where sex was on the table. I thought about trying to delay my return, but Mum would get annoyed if she thought I was hurting my studying just to be with her, plus I'd promised Lydia we'd move into the new flat on the same day. So I had to make the most of my two chances.

The first Saturday I woke up to Mum bringing me a cup of tea. She was wearing a dressing gown over her pyjamas, which she dropped on the floor as she squeezed into bed with me. My heart started racing, wondering whether this was when I was finally going to lose my virginity, but actually we just made out together while she stroked my cock. Being able to kiss her like this felt incredible, almost as good as her fingers on my cock, and when I told her I was going to cum she grabbed a couple of tissues from the box and used those to catch my cum. It wasn't exactly the most exciting experience, and I wanted to do more for her, but she seemed happy with just making me cum. After that, we played around for the rest of the day, making out or grinding on each other. She let me grab her boob once, through her shirt, and I was desperate for more. We settled for another topless blowjob on the sofa, though, which at least I managed to make last for a few minutes.

With one day left, I wondered whether me being a virgin had put Mum off. Maybe she wanted my first time to be with a girl at uni, not with her, so she was sticking to handjobs and blowjobs for now. I wanted to talk to her about it, to tell her I didn't mind, but during the week we didn't talk about it. By Saturday, I was ready to explode, and as soon as I saw her in the morning I gently pushed her up against the kitchen wall and started kissing her.

"Take it easy," she giggled, pushing me away. "I've got something planned for later."

If there was anything which was going to get me even more worked up, it was that. I couldn't take my eyes off her at the pool, fantasizing about her so much that I had to pretend I wanted to do a final length of the pool just to get my erection to go down. Nothing happened over lunch, then she said she wanted to go shopping in the afternoon so I watched TV and left her to it.

"I want to dust behind the TV so can you go up to your room for a bit?" she asked.

"But you always clean on Sundays," I complained.

"I don't care, shift."

"Okay," I said, heaving myself off the sofa I'd been sitting on for about four hours. "The next match isn't on until five anyway."

She nodded. "I should be done by then."

If only I'd known what she had planned. I did some reading in my room for half an hour, and I was toying with the idea of booting up my laptop when I got a text from Mum.

Mum: All done, you can come down

I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I strolled back downstairs into the living room. Mum had laid out some crisps and snacks instead of a proper meal, the TV was switched to the football, and there was a cold can of lager waiting for me, with a chilled glass of wine on her side. Mum wasn't there, so I sank into my seat with a feeling of luxury.

When she pushed open the door, I said without looking, "Thanks, Cathy, this looks amazing."

"Can't you look away from football for five seconds?"

I turned my head and my mind was blown. Mum was standing there in the doorway, posing slightly, her hair wavy and cascading down to her shoulders. She was wearing a pale blue floaty summer dress which was struggling to contain her boobs, and when she turned slightly the skirt swished and showed off her legs.

"Wow, Cathy, you look incredible."

She smiled and stepped over, sitting down on the sofa next to me and snuggling up, pressing my arm into her tits.

"Thank you, you're sweet," she said, lowering her voice. "I thought maybe you'd appreciate having a girl to bring you drinks and food tonight, since it's our last Saturday together."

"I definitely do," I said, torn between football and boobs.

Somewhere about half time she pulled the straps of her dress over her shoulders during a makeout session and she watched the rest of the match topless. I tried a couple of times to slide my hand up her skirt, but she nudged my hand away, so I had to be satisfied with being able to touch a woman's bare breasts for the first time. The softness surprised me, as well as how much she reacted when I slid my palms over her nipples.

The final ten minutes, she climbed onto my lap and sat facing me, kissing me, her hair in my face, while she rubbed herself on my bulge. To this day I have no idea how the match ended, except that at full time, when the whistle blew, Mum pulled away from our kiss and looked at me.

"Ready for your first time?" she said softly, and I could only nod. She climbed off, switched the TV off, grabbed my hand and led me upstairs. I couldn't take my eyes off her bum as we climbed the stairs and she led me to her room.

The full enormity of what was about to happen hit me when she reached into her bedside drawer and passed me a foil packet.

"Normally I'd suggest a little more foreplay but I don't want you to cum too early," she said, a little too matter-of-factly for my liking. I'd cum quickly before, yeah, but only because an incredibly hot older woman who happened to be my mum was sucking my cock. Who wouldn't cum quickly in that situation?

Regardless, I sat on the edge of the bed and, after pushing down my trousers and underwear, I ripped open the condom and carefully rolled it onto my cock. It was the first time I'd ever had a condom on and it was a weird feeling, a little restrictive and tight. When I was satisfied, I glanced over at Mum who was sliding under the blanket, her dress now lying in a heap on the floor. My cock jumped a little when I realised she must be just wearing knickers under the blanket, and then I felt a surge of arousal when I finally realised that this was it. I was going to lose my virginity to my mum. In a few minutes, my cock would be inside her pussy.

"Don't be nervous, honey," she said, taking my hand and gently tugging me towards her. I leant in for a kiss as she helped me lie down next to her, getting under the blanket too. She paused to flick off the light, leaving the room dark except for the evening light coming through the curtains.

We lay there, kissing occasionally, for a minute or so. I think we were both trying to process what was about to happen and building up the courage. In the end, I felt Mum's soft hand on my wrist and she guided my hand down over her smooth tummy and between her legs.

"Do you know how to finger a girl?" she asked, her voice a little breathless. My fingers were resting on the fabric of her knickers, on top of her pussy.

"I've never done it," I admitted, my nerves rising.

"You'll learn fast," she said with a slight giggle, pushing her knickers down. Now my fingers were touching her wet pussy, which was a lot wetter than I was expecting, actually. Her bush rubbed over my wrist as she pushed my hand down to her opening and then gently pressed one finger inside.

I was a little overwhelmed. I was acutely aware of how much I had to learn, and at the same time I was trying to process the fact that my finger was inside my mum's pussy. She kept up the pressure until my finger had slid all the way inside, surrounded by the tightness of her insides.

"Okay, now just start moving in and out gently," she whispered, guiding my wrist to help me find the right rhythm. Maybe it was my inexperience talking, but each gentle touch she made on my hand helped me find the right thing to do and she seemed to know exactly what she wanted. I almost gasped out loud when I pressed my finger all the way back inside and she let out her first moan. A proper aroused woman moan. Not a fake, porn star thing, but a real noise which told me she was enjoying this. I was turning her on. My cock had never been harder.

"Are you ready to go on top?" she finally asked, between little moans. "I think I'm ready."

I nodded and, a little too eager, pulled my finger out too fast, making her gasp.

"Slow down, no rush," she giggled, kissing my chest. Her tongue poked out and flicked over my nipple, which was a sudden sensation I never even knew existed. She giggled again when she felt my reaction, then helped me to climb over her leg and lay between her thighs. She clasped my hand against her boob, my wet finger from her pussy sliding over her nipple and making her moan softly again.

"Slow and gentle to start off with," she cautioned me, reaching down and taking hold of my cock with her fingertips. She guided me to her pussy, shuffling me into the right position, and then I felt my cock meeting resistance and pressing against her.

"Keep pushing," she encouraged me when she felt me hesitate. "I'll tell you if it's too much."

I did as I was told, and felt the tip of my cock through the condom slowly moving inside. It was a hard sensation to describe, but it felt amazing and I kept pushing until Mum gently pressed against my hip to tell me to stop. I was almost all the way inside her, my cock inside her pussy, and it was just as incredible as I'd imagined.

"Fuck me, in and out," she said gently, pulling on my hip again to tell me to move.

I started slow, as she'd requested, and built up speed as I heard her moans and encouragement. She pulled my head down and we kissed, her tongue in my mouth as I slid in and out of her. I was definitely fucking her now and she was loving it.

"Oh fuck, Mum," I whispered, my voice dry from lack of use.

"I thought it was Cathy?" she whispered back, playfully.

I could barely think straight. "Cathy, yeah," I stuttered, trying to keep my focus on fucking her.

"Cum whenever you're ready," she said, squeezing my arm. "I want to feel you cum inside me."

I didn't need much else. I'd been on the edge of cumming since I'd put the condom on in the first place, and hearing her soft voice telling me to cum was too much. I grunted, pushing myself as deep inside her as I could, and felt my balls tighten and shoot my cum into the condom. She moaned too, holding me tightly in place, her fingernails digging into my shoulder as she held me.

"Wow," I said when I was finished, trying to get my breath back.

"Wow," she repeated, happily, kissing me again. "Felt good, huh?"

"Felt amazing," I told her, and she gently guided me back out of her pussy so I could roll onto my back, panting.

"My baby's not a virgin any more," she said, moving onto her side and laying one hand on my chest, kissing my arm and my shoulder. "How's it feeling?"

In reality, I had expected to feel more regret and shame about losing my virginity to my mum. Instead, I was riding high. I didn't think of her as my mum, just as a sexy and amazing woman who I'd just fucked. Alright, it was only for a minute and she definitely hadn't cum, but whatever, still good for a first try.

"Feels great," I said as she rested her head on my chest. I stroked her hair gently, feeling her squishing her tits into me and sighing softly.

"Want to hear something kinda nasty?" she said after a few minutes, looking up at me.

"Will it ruin things?" I asked, laughing.

She nodded. "One hundred per cent."

"Go on them."

She took a breath. "The last penis I had inside me, before yours, was your dad's."

"Ew, Mum, you didn't need to share that. I hope this was a long time ago and not last week or something."

She giggled and slapped my stomach muscles. "No way."

I had wondered if we might be able to do it again, or whether at least she'd let me sleep in her bed, but after she'd handed me a wad of tissues to clean my cock with, she pushed me into the shower.

"Showering after sex is important because it helps avoid infections," she said, completely ruining whatever mood there might have been. "You go first because you'll be faster."

Once I was clean, I went back to my room after a final goodnight kiss. She'd put on a dressing gown, but she was still showing a lot of cleavage and she looked incredibly hot. Alone in my room, I silently celebrated losing my virginity at long last. I didn't really feel very different, but it felt good to be able to say it. Mostly, I knew it was going to feel like a long time until I could see Mum again on a Saturday and try doing it again.

Saying goodbye to Mum was nowhere near as weird as it might have been because she kept her boundaries in place and, on the day I left, she was back to being normal Mum, not sexy goddess Mum. The only hint she betrayed of what had happened was when, while we were waiting for the train to arrive, she slid her fingers between mine and squeezed my hand.

"You'll text me, okay?" she asked.

There was a definite implication in the words, since I always used to text her anyway.

"I will," I promised. "Maybe I can show you how to use Facetime or video chat or something."

She squeezed my hand again. "Maybe."

I wasn't sure how I was going to feel when I saw Lydia again. I hadn't really thought about her very much during the break, especially not after I started flirting with Mum, so I was surprised when I arrived at our new flat and she was already there, looking every bit as fit and desirable as ever. She had managed to get a tan during her holiday and that somehow made her even more sexy than usual, not to mention the tight t-shirt she was wearing.

"No Mark?" I asked, looking around the interior of the flat as I dragged my stuff inside.

"He's already back at his uni," Lydia explained, giving me a hug. "Plus, moving in is always a chore and I prefer doing it my way."

I didn't have much stuff so it didn't take me long to sort my room out, and then I gave Lydia a hand fixing up the kitchen. The flat had a really good city centre location, so when we realised that neither of us had brought a colander, I was able to nip out and come back with a new one in less than twenty minutes.

At the end of the day, with everything unpacked, Lydia had cooked up bacon sandwiches for both of us and we were catching up on what had happened over the summer. I didn't have much news, of course, which I was willing to tell her, but she did most of the talking about her scuba diving and lifeguard training. I had to admit, Lydia lived a really exciting sounding life which I wished I could do even a small part of. For me, football and studying ate up all of my free time, while Lydia seemed to be able to party, make tons of friends and still have time to excel on her course.

"Okay, one other thing I forgot earlier," Lydia said, draining the bottom of her mug of tea. "You don't have a problem with Mark visiting, right?"

I shook my head. "Of course not."

"Sometimes he might be here for a couple of weeks, is that OK/"

"Yeah, 'course."

Lydia seemed relieved. "You're welcome to have anyone you want round to stay, as well. Like, if you met a girl. Or a guy, if you prefer."

I'd always semi-suspected that Lydia thought I was gay, and while I have nothing against gay people, it was pretty hard to hear it coming from a girl I thought might be into me.

"Actually, I met someone over the summer. A girl," I said, quickly.

Lydia stared at me. "That's awesome," she said happily. "You've got to let me meet her."

"I'll invite her to stay sometime," I said, trying to sound casual while internally freaking out and regretting saying anything.

"What's she called?"

I had no other options. "Cathy," I said, forcing a smile.

When I was alone in my room, I did quick work purging every possible link between me and my mum on social media. I didn't have Facebook, since it was never popular at my school and I did all my socialising on WhatsApp. Mum was a big fan, though, so I double-checked what might link us. Obviously she'd told me she'd posted some pictures of us together and so on, but she used her maiden name online and I didn't see how Lydia would find it. Plus, her profile was private. I breathed a sigh of relief. If Lydia had found out I was pretending my mum was my girlfriend, she'd think I was pathetic, and if she found out we were actually having sex, she'd freak out.

I owned up to Mum about what had happened when I rang her on Friday night, when Lydia was out partying.

"You're overthinking it," Mum reassured me. "You can always just say that you got dumped or whatever. It might even get her sympathy."

This was true and I was pleased Mum wasn't as freaked out as she might have been. "I could do that, yeah."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "Actually, though," Mum suddenly said, "I have wanted to visit you at uni, especially now you have your own flat."

My heart sped up. "Um, that's probably okay."

"And if we were pretending to be a couple, I could stay with you instead of in a hotel."

I wanted this so bad. I was desperate to sleep with Mum again and this would be perfect.

"I could make that work," I said hastily. "We can pick a weekend when Lydia is away seeing her boyfriend."

Mum let out a tiny laugh. "Okay, let me know and we can plan it."

"If you're coming all that way, though," I said, suggestively, "Surely we'd have to extend the Saturday rule?"

Mum seemed to pause to think about this. "I think I could extend it to the entire weekend," she said. "But, I still want you to look for a real girlfriend. If you find one, you can tell Lydia you dumped me and we can make a different plan."

"Of course," I said, almost beside myself with excitement. "I definitely will keep looking."

In hindsight, if me and Mum wanted to have sex all weekend, getting a hotel room was a much better choice. But I think we both liked, deep down, the idea of at least once pretending that we were a real couple. A hotel room implied that we were hiding something, and we didn't want to have to hide. Anyway, that was hindsight, of course. In real life, Lydia told me she was going to see Mark in two week's time and, on Saturday, that was the first thing I arranged with Mum. She booked her trains and I punched the air. Finally, I could have Mum all to myself for as long as I wanted.

Being Saturday, though, Mum wasn't Mum. She was Cathy, my sexy girlfriend, and after sending flirtier and flirtier texts all day, it finally came to a head after dinner, when Lydia had gone back to her room to study.

Mum: Can I call you? x

Me: Sorry, Lydia's around, don't want to be overheard...

Mum: That's OK. I'm in the bath ;) x

Me: What are you doing there?

Mum: Thinking about you

That was all it took for me to check my bedroom door was locked and strip naked, stroking my hard cock.

Me: I'm thinking about you too

Mum: What are you thinking about me?

Me: About joining you in the bath

Mum: Are you hard?

Me: Yes, really hard

Mum: Are you touching yourself?

Me: Yes

Mum: I'm touching myself too

Fuck, I loved this. I had to stop stroking to stop myself from cumming too fast.

Me: Are you playing with your tits?

Mum: I'm squeezing them and they're very sensitive, they're covered in water and bubbles from the bath

Me: That sounds so hot

Mum: Have you imagined fucking my tits?

Holy shit.

Me: I definitely have, they're so sexy

Mum: Maybe we can try it when I visit you?

Me: I can't wait

Mum: I want you to cover them in your cum

That was it, I was shooting my load into a tissue.

Me: You just made me cum...

Mum: That was my plan all along ;) Let's talk again next Sat x

The only way I could endure a whole week of uni, especially since it was Fresher's week and it was basically non-stop partying, was by re-reading Mum's messages over and over. I hadn't forgotten my promise to Mum that I would look for a real girlfriend, and I had to admit, being in my second year gave me a certain amount of glamour that some of the fresher girls seemed to be into. On Wednesday we had a football social which ended up in a bar, and I got chatting to a cute blonde called Ffion who was from Wales and wanted to talk about her A-Level results. She was fairly flat-chested and her push up bra was working hard in her tight dress, but to be honest we'd both been drinking and the chance to get laid was overwhelming.
 
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"They messed up the marking for the Politics A-Level, you must remember, right?" she laughed, her accent really coming through.
I had no idea what she was talking about but I nodded anyway. "Yeah, I remember."
"At least I still got into uni, though."
My football mates were getting up and preparing to leave, so I had to make a choice between leaving Ffion and going with them, or sealing the deal.
"Listen, Ffion, I don't know if you want to come back to my place? I've got some vodka there," I asked, summoning my courage.
"I'm not supposed to leave my friends," Ffion told me, looking around for them.
"Don't worry, it's not far," I told her, realising I was sounding a bit creepy. "You can introduce me to your friends."
In the event, it seemed like Ffion's so-called friends were long gone, so she agreed to walk back to the flat with me so I could call her a taxi. At this stage, while I did want to try and get her into bed, I felt for her being abandoned midway through Freshers' week like this and if all she wanted was a taxi, that was OK.
When we arrived, thankfully there was no sign of Lydia, and I sat Ffion down in the kitchen.
"Water or another drink?" I asked.
"Vodka and coke," she demanded, giggling, so I grabbed two glasses and mixed the flat end of a bottle of Pepsi with the vodka. I didn't go mad with the booze, since it looked like Ffion had had plenty already.
"Here you go," I said, putting it down in front of her. She looked at me for a second.
"You're really fit," she blurted out.
"Um, thanks? You're fit too," I said, a little taken aback.
"Do you want to have sex? I do if you do."
I was pleasantly surprised to find that this didn't feel anything like cheating. Mum's boundaries were clear and, on any day except Saturday, it didn't feel weird.
"Okay, yeah, let's go to my room," I said, abandoning my drink.
As I sat on my bed, it became obvious that Ffion wasn't exactly experienced. I know, it's not like I was either, but when we kissed she was so timid, the barest touch from my tongue made her flinch, and I was about to give up when she slid onto her knees in front of me.
"You want me to suck it?" she asked, looking up at me.
I nodded. I wasn't going to turn that offer down.
She struggled with my trousers until I helped her and pushed them down, freeing my hard cock. She put it straight into her mouth, licking gently, putting all of her effort into fitting more of it into her mouth. I'm sounding negative here, but in reality I was loving it. Ffion was cute and seeing her pretty mouth on my cock was really hot. She eventually got enough of my shaft into her mouth that it touched her throat, and she stifled a gag before pulling back.
"Let's fuck," she announced, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. I rooted around for my box of condoms, untouched since Lydia borrowed them, while Ffion lay on the bed, unzipping her dress and pulling her skirt up around her waist. The combined effect made it look like she had a rumpled red ring around her tummy, her skin coloured bra poking over the top. I reached out and helped her pull her knickers down before removing my shirt.
I hadn't really seen Mum's pussy, since we had sex in the dark. Ffion's bush was neatly trimmed and I could see her inner lips poking out as she lay back on the bed, and I felt a momentary attack of nerves when I realised that Ffion would expect me to be experienced. Following Mum's advice, once my condom was on I lay next to her and rubbed my fingers over her pussy, which was nowhere near as wet as Mum's had been. I found her opening and started to push a finger inside, finding some wetness there, which I used to try and lubricate things a bit more. Ffion started moaning, one hand grabbing her boob through her bra as I fingered her, pushing deeper inside and then picking up speed.
"Fuck me," she finally said, reaching down and pushing my hand away. I climbed on top of her, getting into the right position, trying to guide my cock into her. She didn't help, so it took me a couple of attempts before I got it right and my cock started to enter her.
"Ow," she said, making me stop. "No, keep going."
I kept going, and she said "Ow," again. This time I kept pushing in, and her hand shot out to stop me.
"Wait, okay, now," she said, wiggling her hips into a different place. I pushed in again, this time getting all the way inside. She moaned, once, and I took that as encouragement, picking up speed.
"Don't cum inside me," she said urgently after I'd thrust in and out of her for a minute or so.
"I'm wearing a condom," I replied.
"They can break," she said, firmly.
I took a breath and kept fucking her. "Where do you want me to cum, then?" I asked.
"My tits," she said, ruining my rhythm by moving her torso so she could undo her bra. Once it was off, I could look down at her tiny little pink nipples as I fucked her. Neither of us said anything as I kept going faster, my breathing getting heavier, and Ffion didn't moan again. I wondered if I was doing something wrong - Mum had moaned tons when I fucked her - but Ffion didn't complain. After another minute, when I was getting close, I pulled out, clawed at the condom to pull it off, then started stroking my cock, looking at her tits. She squeezed them with both hands, pulling on her nipples.
"I'm gonna cum," I said quickly, leaning forwards so my cock was almost touching her breasts. She took over, grabbing my cock and stroking fast, but when my first shot came out it missed her entirely and landed on the pillow by her head. The second one hit the bottom of her neck, and the third finally landed somewhere near her tits. She squeezed my cock and milked the last dribble out, then rubbed the tip over her nipple, smearing a long line of cum over it.
"Fuck," I said, my back hurting a little from the position, so I rolled off her and sat up at the bottom of the bed. Ffion lay back, one arm over her face, legs still spread so I could see her wet pussy clearly.
"Do you want to shower?" I asked, but she just waved her hand vaguely.
"You first," she said, so I left her and jumped into the shower. Predictably, when I got back she'd fallen asleep, and she'd smeared some of the cum on her neck with her hand so it was wiped all over her shoulder and the bedsheet. I wasn't exactly sure about the etiquette in this situation, but I didn't want to lie down in my own cum, so I left her to sleep, pulled on some clean underwear, then switched the light out and went to try and sleep on the sofa instead.
I didn't sleep well and was awake when it got light. I made myself tea and toast to see off my hangover, then played on my phone until it was a civilised time. Just after eight, Lydia appeared from her room, wrapped in a thick dressing gown with her hair messy.
"Morning," she said brightly. "Lost your clothes?"
I shook my head and shushed her. "There's someone in my room," I explained.
Lydia gave me a look. "Cathy?" she asked, intrigued.
"Um, no," I admitted. "She's called Ffion."
Lydia looked stern. "Does Cathy know about Ffion?"
"Not... yet," I told her. "My relationship with Cathy is a bit complicated. Please don't say anything."
"I won't, I'm not that kind of person," Lydia said, boiling the kettle. "But anyway, good for you, finally smashing some uni pussy."
The words sounded so weird coming out of her mouth that I cringed. "Thanks, I guess..."
She giggled. "I think I might have heard your shower going when I came past so she might be out soon."
Ffion did appear about twenty minutes later, dressed in her dress from last night but with bare feet. I felt awkward, but Lydia made polite conversation, asking about her course and where she lived, which took care of it. The elephant in the room was the fact that Ffion hadn't noticed a smear of dried cum on the shoulder of the dress, which Lydia didn't mention until Ffion was getting ready to leave.
"I've got something to clear that stain from your dress," she said quickly, steering Ffion out of the kitchen and towards her room. I cringed again - it was obviously cum and Ffion looked mortified when she noticed it. I kept a low profile until Ffion left, with my phone number in her phone in case we wanted to meet up again.
"Well, she was cute," Lydia announced, but in the cold light of the morning it was painfully obvious that Lydia was a lot fitter. "You gonna see her again?"
"We'll see," I said, hiding behind my mug.
"Was it her first time?" Lydia asked, averting her gaze and trying to sound casual.
"I don't know, I didn't ask," I said.
Lydia said nothing but I wondered whether Ffion had said something to her in private.
 
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Ch. 05


After my encounter with Ffion, I slipped back into my routine of studying, going to football, lusting after Lydia and waiting desperately for my Saturday encounter with Mum. Lydia seemed to be involved in about a million different societies and activities, I could never keep track of all of them, but sometime around this time she started hanging around a lot more with a girl called Becca, who I think she met at Dance Society or something like that. Becca was cute, with dark, straight hair, a petite but curvy body and a nasty streak a mile wide. What Lydia saw in her I don't know, but whether it was a character in a reality TV show or some celebrity in the news, Becca was completely merciless and thought nothing of tearing them apart. I lived in fear of what she was saying about me behind closed doors.

The next Saturday, with just a week to go until Mum's visit, I had hoped against hope that Lydia would go out so I could call Mum and get dirty, but Lydia announced that Becca was coming over to study. This probably meant homemade cocktails in the kitchen, I surmised. If it had just been Lydia, I was going to take a chance on calling Mum, keeping my voice down and calling her Cathy throughout; if Lydia had overheard any of it, she'd assume I was just having phone sex with my girlfriend. But it was a much bigger risk with Becca around too, especially since Becca had a big mouth and if she overheard me talking dirty, it would spread around the university in no time.

Me: Sorry, Lydia has a friend over, we should stick to texting x

Mum: That's OK, I'm quite tired tonight anyway xx

Me: I can't wait to see you next week

Mum: Me too, I've got some great ideas ;)

Me: Oh really? Like what?

Mum: You'll have to wait and see!

Me: I think the wait will kill me

Mum: I've got a headache coming on, is it ok if we cut things short tonight?

Me: Yeah, I hope you feel better soon

Mum: I took this earlier for you so you wouldn't be too disappointed

The picture was of Mum lying on the sofa, topless and wearing just a pair of dark blue knickers. It was a selfie and she was looking right into the camera, her boobs pressed together and her nipples hard. The little triangle of blue fabric between her thighs was so inviting, not to mention the way her hair was fanned out around her head and over her shoulders. I got hard in an instant.

Me: Fuck, you look incredible!

Mum: Aw thank you, do you like it?

Me: I love it, so sexy

Mum: Does it turn you on? x

Me: Of course

Mum: I want you to wank over me and imagine what we're going to do when we're together, OK?

At this stage I probably don't need to say that I made myself cum pretty fast.

The next week dragged, of course, each day seeming to take an eternity as I counted down the hours until Mum arrived. I had cancelled all my normal weekend commitments so I could spend as much time as possible with her, and I even spent my free time on Friday morning completely cleaning my room and the flat as well as I could. I had plenty of condoms stashed in the bedside table, too.

Lydia left just after lunch, wheeling a weekend bag along behind her.

"Have fun with Cathy," she said, giving me a hug on her way out. "Don't do anything crazy."

Crazy like a whole weekend of fucking my Mum?

"I won't," I said, watching her go. Now I had the flat to myself, and I have to say, it was a challenge not to get too horny waiting. Mum still had to finish work and catch the train, so I tried to make myself focus on my afternoon lectures and some homework, instead of opening the topless picture of her for the hundredth time. The flat being empty was a novelty, though, and it was nice to be able to listen to music as loud as I wanted without disturbing Lydia.

I went to the station to meet Mum's train, wrapping up against the cold wind. She'd text me to say when her train was due to arrive, but I was a few minutes late and she was already standing in the concourse waiting.

"I've missed you," she said, pulling me into a hug. She was wearing a grey scarf and a green coat which I didn't recognise, and she guessed what I was thinking.

"I had to treat myself for this weekend," she said, smiling. "I need to look my best."

"Mum, you-"

She put a finger to her lips playfully.

"Cathy," she corrected me. "Come on, let's go back to your flat."

I pulled her suitcase and for about half of the walk we held hands, her fingers entwining tightly around mine. We definitely looked like a couple, which I loved, especially because Mum was looking seriously gorgeous. She'd had her hair done into little curves and waves, put on makeup, and maybe I was just imagining it but her old mum-body seemed to be tightening back up into a sexy hourglass figure.

"You look good," I said, as we turned the corner onto the road with the flat on it. "Have you been doing yoga?"

She was happy that I'd noticed. "Tons of yoga and swimming, plus eating fewer biscuits!" she joked, giving me a hug from the side.

I fumbled a bit with the key to the flat, but once we were inside, the door pushed closed and the door locked, Mum took off her coat. Underneath was a close-fitting white long-sleeved t-shirt on top of tight jeans, which made a big deal out of her tits, and as soon as I'd pulled off my trainers, I put my hands on her waist and pushed her up against the wall to make out with her.

"Is Lydia definitely gone?" Mum asked between kisses.

"Yeah, I saw her leave earlier," I replied, kissing her jaw and neck.

Mum slid her hand over my chest, fingers rubbing my abs. "Let's grab a shower," she whispered into my ear as I pressed up against her.

We couldn't keep our hands off each other, and after managing half a wash in the shower, Mum knelt down and sucked my cock, making me cum fast. She swallowed it with a giggle. We made cheese on toast in the kitchen, both wearing just underwear, then went back to my room to fuck. I lasted longer this time, following the same routine of fingering Mum until she was wet and ready, breathing hard, then climbing on top of her and fucking her. Mum's moaning and encouragement were so hot, I couldn't believe I was actually fucking this sexy woman. I came in her pussy again, filling the condom, and then we showered again to get clean. Kissing her and watching her cleaning her tits made me hard again, but she just playfully rubbed her bum against my cock and said, "Save it for tomorrow!"

As fun as it sounds to spend an entire weekend having sex, after breakfast it was obvious we couldn't actually just fuck all the time. I couldn't last anywhere near long enough. Instead, we went out to the shops, did a bit of sightseeing, and watched a crappy film at the cinema. It was more Mum's thing than mine, but even she got bored halfway through, and we sat at the back making out. I had my hand around her shoulders, resting on her arm, and she gently guided it down the front of her shirt and onto her boob so I could tease her nipple. I was rock hard, of course, and while she didn't actually pull my cock out, she did rub it through my trousers a lot.

When we got back to the flat, we undressed straight away, only just making it into my room. When we were both naked, Mum pushed me against the door and knelt down again to suck my cock, but I gently stopped her.

"I want to fuck your tits," I said quickly, feeling a little embarrassed at saying it. But Mum just smiled happily, grabbing my hand and leading me over to the bed. She kissed me again, then sat me down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of me, between my thighs, my hard cock sticking straight up. She looked thoughtful for a second, then she reached into her bag, rummaged around and came up with a tube of lube.

"Should feel better this way," she said, squeezing a handful of lube out and then rubbing it into her tits. She looked so hot, sliding her hands over her big tits, getting them ready for me to fuck, and then she looked even hotter as she pushed her tits together and slid my cock between them.

"Oh fuck, Cathy, wow," I managed to say as she began to move her chest up and down, squeezing my cock tightly between her boobs. I couldn't take my eyes off the sight, the head of my cock appearing in her cleavage and then disappearing, but when I looked up, I saw her looking straight at me, a big smile on her face.

"Let me know when you're going to cum," she said softly, increasing her pace.

"Pretty soon," I said, breathing hard.

"Cum for me," she said, still looking right at me. I moaned a little, my cock jerking, and she squeezed her boobs around it as I started to cum. It was messy and lots of cum dripped down onto her tummy, but I still managed to give her tits a good coating, far better than I had done with Ffion. She looked happy as we showered to clean it all off, and this time when I got hard again she led me back to the bed and we fucked for a while - I didn't time it, but I must have lasted at least ten minutes inside her.

After eating and watching TV for a while, we got into bed together to sleep. My cock actually ached a little after cumming four times in just over twenty four hours, but I was still a little hard as I lay next to Mum. She noticed, and she gently took my cock in her hand and started to stroke it.

"Are you still looking for a girlfriend like I asked?" she asked in a low voice. The light was off so I couldn't see her expression.

"Yeah," I said, but my tone didn't sound very sincere. Can you blame me - I'd just had an amazing weekend with a sexy woman, why would I be thinking about getting a girlfriend?

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I took a breath. "I, um, met this girl, Ffion," I explained. "She's a fresher."

Mum's stroking sped up slightly. "Oh? Where did you meet her?"

"In a club," I said. "She came back here afterwards."

There was a pause for a second as Mum worked out the implication, but then she resumed stroking even faster, her hand gripping firmly.

"Did you sleep with her?" Mum asked, her voice level.

At this point, I had no idea what to do. Bringing up Ffion seemed like a mistake, but then again, Mum was the one who kept telling me to find a girlfriend. She couldn't be jealous or mad if she was asking for it, right? Or maybe she was just jealous because I brought it up when she was stroking my cock? The only course of action I could think of was just to tell the truth.

"Yeah," I said, my voice quiet.

Mum let out a little moan, and through the darkness I thought I could hear her hand moving between her legs. Fuck, was Mum getting off to this?

"What does she look like?" Mum asked, getting more confident.

"Small, slim, blonde," I said, getting distracted by how hard I was and how good Mum's hand felt.

"Tell me about what you did," Mum encouraged, stroking even more. There was no doubt that this was turning her on.

"Um, firstly she gave me a blowjob," I said, and heard another soft moan from Mum. "Then she lay down on the bed and I fucked her pussy."

Another moan. Now Mum was stroking my cock fast and hard and I wasn't honestly sure how much longer I could go.

"Did you cum?" Mum asked in a breathy voice, parting her thighs more.

"She wanted me to cum on her tits, so I pulled out and she gave me a handjob until I came," I said, so turned on that my cock was painfully hard.

Mum moaned again. "Show me," she said.

"What?" I asked, not sure.

"Show me how you came," she said, letting go of my cock and moving me so I was between her thighs. I got the picture and got onto my knees, moving my cock forward as close to her tits as I could. She started rubbing me again.

"Is this it?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, breathing fast as I got close.

"Cum for me, I want to see it," Mum said, and after a few more seconds I exploded. Unlike Ffion, Mum kept my cock in the right place and most of my cum splashed onto her tits, her chest and her neck. I took a few deep breaths when I was finished, falling back onto the bed.

"That was so sexy," Mum said, smiling as she looked over at me. "But I think I need yet another shower."

While Mum made breakfast the next morning, I thought about what had happened. It was obvious that Mum got turned on hearing about me having sex with other girls. Combined with the fact that she wanted me to get a girlfriend, it seemed like a good deal for me - lots of sex with my Mum, and a free pass to not only fuck other girls, but also to tell Mum all about it. I wasn't sure how my life had taken such a good turn.

Mum needed to catch a lunchtime train, which left enough time for her to pack and for us to have sex once more. When we'd eaten, Mum was naked and I was only wearing boxers so I could go to and from the kitchen, when I heard the front door unlocking and my heart shot into my mouth.

"I'm back!" Lydia announced, striding into the flat. She took one look at me in the kitchen in my pants and laughed. "Don't tell me I caught you in the middle of doing it?"

I tried not to look embarrassed. "No," I said, trying to sound confident. "I thought you were getting back late tonight?"

Lydia shook her head. "That was the plan, but Mark got an unexpected assignment so he needed to study," she explained, then dropped her voice. "Is Cathy still here?"

I nodded.

"Can I meet her?"

I knew full well that Mum was naked and in no state to talk to Lydia, but before I could say anything, my bedroom door opened and Mum came out. She'd pulled on one of my t-shirts, a black one, and some pale pink pyjama shorts, which made it look like she'd just got out of bed. She didn't have a bra on and her nipples showed through the t-shirt, which made my cock twitch as she walked over to us.

"You must be Lydia, David''s flatmate?" Mum asked, flashing a mischievous look at me.

"Yes, and you're Cathy, right?" Lydia replied, looking a little flustered. I'd never seen Lydia so knocked off her stride and it was somehow satisfying. She didn't need long to recover, though, and the two girls got talking, leaving me stranded. Lydia made a cup of tea and Mum carefully answered her questions about how we met and so on, occasionally asking me to confirm something. Internally, I was freaking out. Lydia was talking to my mum, and it was completely obvious we'd spent the weekend fucking. The only thing that kept this from being a massive issue was the fact that Lydia didn't know she was my mum. It was a miracle I managed to keep my cool.

"Listen, Lydia, I'm sorry to cut this short but I've got a train to catch," Mum eventually said. "We've got some... stuff to fit in first, too." She gave me a meaningful look and I blushed, making Lydia laugh.

"Well, I'll keep to my room for a while, don't want to overhear anything," Lydia said, looking at me again. "Nice to meet you, Cathy."

"We'll catch up another time," Mum said, grabbing my hand and leading me back to my room, leaving Lydia in the kitchen.

Once my bedroom door was shut, I opened my mouth to ask what the hell was happening, but Mum shushed me instantly, pulling my shirt over her head to expose her tits and then pushing down her pyjama shorts.

"That was so fucking hot," she said urgently, kissing me.

"Was it?" I asked, confused.

"You don't think it was hot that your flatmate knows you're fucking me?" Mum whispered, reaching down into my boxers and taking hold of my cock. "She's seen us together?"

It was a little hot, I had to admit, and as Mum pushed my boxers down I was hard.

"Fuck me," Mum said quickly, pointing to the bedside table for the condoms. "I'm already so wet."

This time she bent over the bed and I fucked her from behind. The new angle was amazing, both for how it felt (tighter, sexier), and for how it looked. I could see my hips slamming into her arse each time I thrust into her, and although Mum did her best to keep it quiet, a few of her moans were probably loud enough to be heard outside the room. I came in her pussy, then pulled out and threw the condom away while she collapsed onto the bed, panting.

Looking back, I should have known that everything was too good to be true. A great relationship like I had with Mum didn't just come along without any complications. And being so open about it, bringing her to my flat, it was always asking for trouble.

The trouble itself arrived when I was sitting in the kitchen that evening, my mind still half-focusing on the memory of Mum bent over my bed, being fucked. I sipped a cup of hot tea I had just made, when Lydia came and sat down in the other chair at the kitchen table.

"So," she said, matter-of-factly, grabbing my attention. "Are you gonna tell me the truth about Cathy?"

My mouth went dry instantly and I sipped tea to play for time. "What do you mean, the truth?"

Lydia just stared at me. "Come on, we're flatmates. If you don't tell me, I'll tell you."

"Okay," I countered, "You tell me what you think the truth is."

She paused, seemingly unsure now I was pressing her. But she gathered her resolve.

"Cathy's your mum."

If my mouth had been dry before, now it was the Sahara. My heart was pounding, my chest tight. The terror in my eyes confirmed everything to Lydia without me needing to say anything.

"How did you-"

"How did I know?" Lydia asked, a slightly smug smile on her lips. "When I was talking to Cathy, I thought I recognised her, she looks familiar. I got it into my head she was on a soap I watched once, and if you were dating an actual soap star I needed to know. So I searched all over the internet to find out, went on Facebook and stalked your profile, but you hadn't even posted about her. I eventually hit the jackpot when I searched for 'Catherine' and your hometown and dug up some old newspaper archives about a swimming championship. That gave me her maiden name and, then I realised. She looks familiar because she looks like you."

I couldn't believe it. Lydia had unearthed the truth after an hour searching the internet. Anyone could do that.

"Don't worry, I don't think most people would go to that length," Lydia said, her eyes on mine. "Your secret is safe with me, for now."

I was close to panicking. "You can't tell anyone," I begged her.

"I won't," Lydia told me, her tone serious. "This isn't something I'm gonna tell all the girls about."

My palms were slick with sweat and Lydia could see I was freaking out. She reached out a hand and touched my forearm gently - a touch that, in any other circumstance, I would probably have read way too much into.

"I have one condition, though," Lydia said, looking intently at me.

"What?" I would have agreed to practically anything.

"I want you to be completely open and honest with me, okay? You have to show you trust me."

I nodded without saying anything. I could do that.

Lydia smiled softly. "I think that whatever happens between two consenting adults is their own business, not mine, so I'm not going to judge you," she said. "I just have some questions."

"Okay," I said, trying to take a deep breath. This could be a lot worse.

Lydia took her hand off me. "Have you had sex with her?" she asked, pulling no punches.

"Yes," I said, unable to look straight at her.

"When did it start?"

"Over the summer."

"Does anyone else know?"

"No, nobody else."

"Does she know about Ffion?"

I nodded. "I told her. She doesn't have a problem if I... see other people."

Lydia seemed a little surprised by this but covered it well. "Does she see other people too?"

I didn't like to think about this prospect. "Um, not at the moment."

Lydia said nothing to that. "Well, as far as I'm concerned you can bring her here as often as you want, it's your flat too," she announced. "Now, I've got to get ready to go out. Thank you for being honest."

As she swept past me and went back to her room, I realised I'd been clenching my fingers so tightly they were hurting.
 
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The first thing I did was texted Mum, but she was at work and didn't text back until the evening.
Me: Lydia found out that you're my mum
Mum: How did she react?
Me: She seems okay. Didn't freak out, said you can come to the flat whenever you want.
Mum: That's very mature of her. I need to thank her!
For now, I couldn't handle the thought of how that conversation would go, so I tried not to think about it.
Actually, the thing which made everything easier to bear was that Lydia had a secret of her own, which I accidentally discovered that week. I had football practice as usual on Wednesday, but before we could start, the heavens opened and a torrential downpour came. We waited five minutes to see if it would blow over, but there was a rumble of thunder in the sky and the coach decided it was better to abandon training for today. I needed to wash my kit anyway so, to avoid getting my clothes wet, I walked back to the flat in my kit, getting back much earlier than usual. The wind was blowing and the rain falling on the windows was so loud, when I let myself into the flat Lydia didn't hear me coming. My hair was dripping onto the carpet and I was glad to be out of the rain, ready to grab a towel, but I saw movement in the kitchen through the glass in the door and it made me pause.
Lydia was standing by the oven, facing away from the door, dressed as usual in her favourite comfy sweatshirt and leggings. Her friend Becca was sitting at the table, looking at her, but as I watched, Becca got up, stepped over to Lydia and put her hand on her waist. This looked weird, but then again, girls are weird. But any doubts I might have had all disappeared when Becca leaned in close and slid her hand down the back of Lydia's leggings, feeling her arse. My eyes shot wide open as Becca kissed Lydia's cheek and, then, Lydia turned her head and kissed her back, full on the lips.
I didn't want to be caught standing there, watching, by either of them, so I tore my eyes away and let myself into my room. I pulled my phone out of my kit bag and sent Lydia a text telling her I was home early, hoping she'd see it and I wouldn't have to walk in on them again. Standing there, in my room, I still couldn't believe my eyes. Lydia had a boyfriend, but she and Becca had obviously had sex. Becca was hot, and Lydia was even hotter, and the thought of them fucking each other was already turning me on, but I forced myself to rationalise. This could definitely be a problem if I didn't handle it properly. I grabbed my phone and texted Mum.
Me: I just walked in on Lydia and her friend Becca kissing
Mum was at home, so by the time I'd dried my hair with a towel she'd replied.
Mum: Wow. Does she know you saw?
Me: No, but I will talk to her after Becca leaves
Mum: Why do you have to wait for that?
Me: I'm afraid of Becca...
Mum: Aw! You know there's nothing wrong with Lydia choosing to explore her sexuality, right?
Me: I know, but she has a boyfriend
Mum: Maybe he's okay with it? How would you know?
This was actually a good point, but I felt a rush of jealousy when I thought about Mark. Not only did he get to have sex with Lydia, but if she was bisexual and he knew about her and Becca... How do some guys get all the luck?
Me: I'll talk to her.
Mum: Let me know how it goes!
In the end, after I heard Becca leaving the flat, I just took the plunge. Lydia was about to go back to her room but I opened my bedroom door and caught her attention.
"Lydia, I saw you and Becca together, kissing," I said plainly. She stared at me for a few seconds, like she was trying to work out what to say. Once again, it was kind of refreshing to see her not so perfectly composed.
"Um," she said, blushing. "Okay, then I guess we have a problem."
"Does Mark know?" I asked.
She shook her head. "The thing with Becca is still new and I wanted to talk to him properly, in person."
"Well, I'm obviously not going to tell anyone," I grinned. "That wouldn't end well for either of us."
She managed a laugh. "I will definitely talk to him, it's just... finding the right time."
"Are you going to break up with him?" I asked, irrationally happy all of a sudden.
She didn't seem sure. "I guess it depends what he says," she said, her tone a little sad, and I realised I was prying too much.
"Okay, well if you need anything, let me know," I reassured her, and she gave me a smile before returning to her room.
Obviously the first thing I did once my bedroom door was shut was pull out my cock and relive seeing Becca touching Lydia's arse. I'm only human.
Despite everything that was going on in my life at that moment, something else happened that I need to bring up. I know, I've got a gorgeous hot woman who happens to be my mum who is letting me fuck her. I've got a sexy bisexual flatmate who might be on the edge of breaking up with her boyfriend. What more could I want? Well, the answer to that question hit me when I was in the bar at a football social. We'd planned a bar crawl, but it was pouring with rain and the idea had fizzled out. A couple of guys had drifted away to other social groups they knew, and a few third-years had gone home to catch up on studying, but the bar was still busy. I was hanging out near the bar with a teammate I'd known since first year called Tommy, who was a native Yorkshireman, played in goal, and was always good for a laugh. He was amazingly popular with the ladies (he went to the gym most days, had two holidays a year to his family's house in the Caribbean, he was annoyingly good-looking) but he never committed himself to anyone. He'd just sunk the end of his pint and was turning to order another when a girl suddenly appeared in front of us. She had a determined expression on her face, her tiny cute mouth set into a firm line, with big brown eyes. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, one of my weaknesses when it came to girls' hairstyles, and I realised after staring at her face for a fraction of a second too long that she was trying to give me something.
"What's this?" Tommy asked, depositing his empty glass on the bar top.
"Buddhist Society," the girl replied, pushing a flyer into my hand. "We're having a film night on Friday if you want to come along. It's free." Unexpectedly, she had a Scottish accent.
I glanced down at the flyer, which had details of which room they were going to be in and which film was showing.
"I'm busy Friday," Tommy said abruptly, ignoring the flyer she was trying to hand to him and then squeezing past her to get in the queue for drinks.
She turned her attention to me again, since I was holding the flyer. I had absolutely zero interest in Buddhism, of course, and the film looked boring, but this girl gave me a big, enthusiastic smile. She looked vaguely Asian, which would make sense for the Buddhist thing, but mostly she just looked really pretty. I didn't want to lose whatever small chance I might have.
"Um, okay, I might come," I said, folding the flyer and pushing it into my pocket.
"Oh that's amazing, thank you," she said happily. "All the details are on there. I'm Georgia, you can just find me when you arrive and I'll sit with you."
"Awesome," I replied. "I'm Dave. I'll see you there."
She turned and went off to find other victims and I watched her go. She was wearing a tight-fitting red top and jeans and I had to say, she was hot. Not like Lydia, who was slim and fit and sexy. Georgia was a little curvier, bigger boobs. More like Mum, I thought, before feeling a hot flush of guilt.
"She's pretty nice-looking," Tommy commented as he came back with a full drink. "You actually gonna go to that thing on Friday?"
I shrugged. "Might do. Wouldn't mind seeing her again."
Tommy slapped my shoulder, causing me to slop some drink onto the floor. "Nice one," he grinned, and I shook my head at him. I watched Georgia until she'd left the bar, wondering whether I had any chance with her or whether I would look desperate.
Predictably, my dick ruled over my head and I found myself on Friday evening dressed nice, but still casual, agonising about whether to go into the advertised film room. If everyone else there were sophisticated Buddists who wanted to talk about my zen, then I was gonna look like a complete idiot. On the other hand, if I didn't go in, I'd probably never see Georgia again. But, I had Mum so it wasn't like I needed to chase after girls for sex. But, Mum was firm that I needed to look for a girlfriend and this might work out for me. In the end, I went inside, bracing myself to look like a fool. Luckily for me, though, there were a group of about ten relaxed-looking people sitting there, chatting, and as soon as she saw me, Georgia jumped up and came over to me.
"Dave, great to see you!" she said happily. Today she had her hair down and was wearing a mustard-coloured jumper, so she wasn't dressed sexy, but somehow my stomach still lurched when we made eye contact.
"Hi Georgia," I said, and she led me over to a seat.
"Everyone, this is Dave, I met him the other night and asked him to come," Georgia explained. Out of the others, they were mostly Asian guys, with two white girls who looked like mature students. One was wearing a waistcoat with 'STOP NUCLEAR WAR' and 'FREE POLITICAL PRISONERS' badges pinned to it. I gave everyone a smile and a wave as I sat down.
"Dave, are you interested in Buddhism?" one of the guys asked in a Chinese accent.
I shrugged. "Maybe. I thought I'd see what this film is like."
Everyone smiled and Georgia grabbed my hand.
"You'll really enjoy it," she said, and I'm practically certain my face went red. At the very least, it must have been obvious to anyone with eyes why I'd come to this event.
Georgia was dead wrong. The film was incredibly boring. After fifteen minutes of chanting and monks, I zoned out and spent the rest of my time trying to sneak looks at Georgia's thighs without being too obvious. Everyone else seemed engrossed, though, and luckily it only lasted an hour. When it was over, one of the older women went to get the DVD out of the player and put the lights on.
"We're going to the vegetarian sandwich place after, do you want to come?" Georgia asked me. Of course I said yes, I was in this deep after all.
Unfortunately, this meant another hour of thoughtfully munching an egg and cress baguette and listening to people talking about the film, which I didn't really understand, but I managed to nod or laugh in the right places to seem engaged. Once everyone had eaten, the meeting broke up, and I hung back outside the door of the sandwich place to talk to Georgia.
"So? Are you interested in coming back?" she asked, and she looked so excited I almost said yes. Almost.
"Um, I'm not sure it's exactly my cup of tea, to be honest," I said, and she looked disappointed.
"Oh, well that's okay, it's not for everyone," she said, but I could see she looked sad.
"I mean, the meditation and stuff is interesting, I think that could be really good to learn more about," I told her, only half lying.
"Maybe a slower introduction is a good idea," Georgia said, cautiously nodding.
"Could I have your phone number? In case we want to meet up again," I asked, feeling my heart pounding unexpectedly. My hands were getting sweaty so I carefully wiped them on my trousers.
Georgia seemed suspicious. "Well, all the Buddhist society meetings are posted on the Facebook group," she started, but then a lightbulb went off and her cheeks tinged pink. "Um, okay, let me type it into your phone."
Walking back to the flat I was feeling pretty good. I had Georgia's number, she didn't reject me out of hand, and tomorrow was the best day of the week - Saturday. I'd have Cathy all to myself, and my cock twitched in anticipation of what we would be doing. Overall, I was in a great mood as I unlocked the door of the flat and let myself in, immediately noticing a flurry of activity on the sofa. I shut the door behind me and peered curiously into the living room.
"Um, hi," Lydia said, sitting at one end of the sofa while Becca sat at the other. Lydia's hair was messy and I could see Becca's nipples poking through her t-shirt. Whatever they were watching on Netflix was paused.
"Hi, hey Becca," I replied, struggling to keep a straight face.
"Hey," she said, but somehow I got the impression her tone was unfriendly.
"How was the film?" Lydia asked.
"It was fine," I said. "I'll be in my room."
I grabbed my phone, grinning, and typed out a quick text.
Me: Hope I didn't interrupt anything...
Lydia: It's OK, you didn't interrupt
Me: Does Becca usually leave her bra lying on the floor behind the sofa?
I didn't get a reply to this.
On Saturday evening, I made sure all my uni work was done, grabbed some snacks for my room and a big glass of water, then settled myself on my bed to text Cathy. She replied straight away.
Me: Are you free?
Mum: Yes, baby
Me: What are you doing?
Mum: I just got out of the bath so I'm sitting on my bed in a towel
Me: Sounds sexy
Mum: Would it be sexier without the towel?
Me: Definitely
There was a pause, and then a picture message arrived. Mum still had a towel wrapped around her hair, but she was lying on her bed just like I was, and the top half of her tits were visible.
Me: You look so hot
Mum: Did you talk to Lydia?
Me: I did, she's going to talk to her boyfriend soon.
Mum: That's good. Let her know she can talk to me if she needs someone to listen.
Me: I will. I actually walked in on her and Becca doing it on the sofa yesterday!
Mum: Wow, so it wasn't a one-time thing?
Me: Seems like it
There was another pause, so I gulped a few mouthfuls of water.
Mum: Does thinking about them turn you on?
I considered my reply. In reality, I wanted to be a good friend to Lydia. But on the other hand, thinking about Becca's head between Lydia's legs was incredibly hot.
Me: All straight guys like lesbians, I think
There was another pause and my heart started beating faster. Did I say the wrong thing? Was thinking about Lydia and Becca just too weird for Mum?
Mum: Have you ever thought about me with another woman?
Oh fuck. I was as hard as a rock in a second. I reached down and pushed down my trousers to get my cock out so I could stroke it.
Me: I mostly just think about me and you...
Mum: I'm okay with it if you want to think about it together
Me: How do you mean?
Mum: Well, what if I was sitting on my bed right now with another woman, snogging her? My hands on her beautiful breasts, feeling her nipples
My cock was throbbing. I had to stop stroking for fear of cumming too soon.
Me: That would be incredible
Mum: What would you want to see us doing to each other?
Me: I want her to suck your nipples
Mum: Feeling her wet tongue on my nipples would feel so good, I'd be so turned on
Me: Would you lick her pussy?
Mum: How about she climbs on top of me and we lick each other's pussies at the same time? I love how she tastes and her tongue feels amazing on my clit
Me: I would probably explode if I saw you doing that
Mum: You could push your big cock into my wet pussy while she licks my clit if you wanted
How am I supposed to not cum when I get a message like that? I had to grab tissues from my bedside table just in time to avoid making a mess.
Me: You just made me cum again, Cathy
Mum: I'm so glad ;) x I just wish I was there in person
Me: I can't wait for Xmas
Mum: I'm right here waiting for you as soon as you get home :)
 

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