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Being caught naked in your garden by your husband inevitably causes marital problems. Being with a man who is also naked compounds that. Being about to be fucked by that other man makes it almost impossible to explain. And when that naked man is your twenty-year-old son things are fucked up completely.
There could only be one solution. Yes, Richard divorced me.
Being wealthy and well connected with lawyers, he did it quickly without any mention of the reason coming out; irreconcilable differences being the court jargon for the fact that my son and I had fallen in love.
It had been rumbling around between Peter and me for some time. It started with sly glances when I was showing a little too much of my, still into my forties, shapely, legs or my full, now, DD cup, breasts. It went on with him brushing up against me, us touching each other unnecessarily and holding each other’s glances. It increased when he found Richard’s and my collection of ‘intimate’ photos of me on my laptop and it exploded when he persuaded me to pose for him. That went too far and we ended up naked masturbating each other.
Luckily in many ways Peter was going travelling in South America before going off to university in the autumn. That would remove the temptation for both of us for we had admitted to each other lying naked on that floor that we could not resist each other.
We kept in touch when he was travelling. This was mainly by emails, occasionally by phone and a few times by messenger and then skype. They were amazing yet very worrying. Amazing because we could talk and see each other on cam, worrying because inevitably we cybered and yes, my son fucked me over the net.
He had only been home a day. One night and one day. I had tried. I had tried so hard, so very, very hard to resist the tremendous temptations and it had nearly worked. Once again Richard’s work intervened. We were supposed to be together as a family for the few days before Peter went off to college, but Richard had to go to Paris overnight. That left Peter and I alone in the house. How the hell we ended up naked in the little courtyard at the back of the house that is such a suntrap I don’t remember. But I do remember vividly being pushed back against the wall, having his lovely cock between my thighs and him about to fuck me when Richard walked in. The trip had been cancelled.
Richard rarely loses his temper. He keeps his cool all the time, but then top businessmen have to do that. He quickly summed up the situation in the garden that afternoon a few months ago now. He hardly said anything but I recall him telling Peter to get dressed and get out. He just told me to get dressed. Peter did as Richard told him and I slipped my clothes back on though, I couldn’t find my underwear.
There was no messing around. He explained in very clinical terms exactly what would happen. He would move out and stay at a company flat in town while I sorted myself out. He would keep the house in St Albans.
“After all you have always hated it haven’t you?” and I could keep the flat in Docklands and we would share the house in Majorca. He would keep the family home and give me a sum to balance things out. It was almost as if he had apreviously worked out how we would settle our assets.
“I’ll draw up an outline agreement tomorrow and then we can get things moving,” he’d said as he packed. “I’ll send someone for the rest of my stuff.”
That was it. No screaming, no shouting, no recriminations and no tears; just a cold clinical closure on a twenty two-year long marriage. Richard packed one suitcase, picked up his laptop, iPad and golf clubs and in less than hour from catching us he was driving his new Mercedes out of the driveway and my life.
I felt dead inside. Upset? Maybe, but not as much as I would have imagined. There was just a dull ache and a concern over the future and what we would tell our friends, family and work colleagues. The marriage had been on the wane for ages. We rarely had sex and when we did, he generally needed the stimulus of the photographs to get him going. But then with the hours he worked when in England and the travelling he did, at least a week away every month, the marriage didn’t really have a chance. For a couple of years now I had contemplated having an affair. Like many women in their mid-forties I had also thought about finding a toy boy. Little did I imagine that my son would be the provider of both of those what I thought hade been fantasies.
My phone beeped. There was a text it was from Peter.
‘How r things”
“Ok he’s gone”
“Can I cum round”
I smiled at the misuse of the word. Being a bit of a wordsmith and having once worked in and owned a publishing company I didn’t really like textspeak, but sometimes I indulge.
“U can cum round, square, oblong or oval if you like”
“Mum how cd u? On my way”
It was no more than ten minutes later that he arrived in the new MINI Cooper S we had bought him for getting such good güneyşehir escort A-level results. I opened the door. Before I could even close it, he pulled me into his arms and still with the door open he kissed me. I responded immediately. We ground our lips together, probed our tongues into the other’s mouth and writhed our bodies together. All the pent-up desire for each other, the lust, the love and the sheer need to make love exploded as we kissed just inside the front door.
“Mum I am so sorry,” he gasped between kissing me.
“It wasn’t your fault, don’t apologise,” I managed to mutter back as the kiss went on and on.
His hands were all over me. In my near shoulder-length, natural, blonde hair, on my neck, up and down my back and on my bum.
“Oh God,” he grunted when his hands ran down my spine and told him that I wasn’t wearing a bra. His hands immediately slid round my body and cupped my breast that was straining against the cotton of my tee shirt. I kissed him even harder as he pushed the bulge of his erection into the place that had nurtured him for nine months, and slid his hand up my tee shirt and right onto my boob. Reaching down I gripped the hem of my tee shirt and tore it up and over my head. I bared my breasts for him as I wanted him to see and have his mother’s full tits that were aching for his touch.
Sexually consummating our incestuous mother/son relationship became the urgency for us. It became the critical event. We had been near several times, but so far, I had not had my baby’s cock inside me. No so far, we hadn’t had full sex. So far, my son had not yet fucked me and we both so badly wanted to rectify that.
He pulled his tee shirt off as well and we both fumbled with the zips on our jeans.
Naked again he pulled me into his arms and we kissed and kissed for ages. Knowing that everything was in place for us to have sex I was relaxed and so ready to have my son make love to me.
“Let’s go to bed darling,” I whispered into his ear feeling so feminine, sexual, aroused and excited.
Locking the front door, just in case and taking his hand, I led him up the stairs, acutely conscious that his face was just inches behind my bare bum, and headed for my bedroom. Momentarily balking at the idea of committing incest in my marital bed, but then realising that my marriage was over so it wasn’t such a bed, I took him there. We lay on it kissing, rolling around in each other’s arms and grinding our bodies together as we moved inexorably to what I recognised had become our sexual destiny.
“Oh mum, oh Jayne,” he sighed as he lay on top of me and held my arms above my head. He raised himself up and stared down at me. I enjoyed the look in his eyes as he stared at my breasts.
“Darling, yes, yes,” I groaned as I felt his cock nuzzling my lips. I put my arms all the way round him, pulled him down so his firm chest squashed my breasts and whispered. “Oh Peter, at last.”
“Oh yes,” he sighed as looking deep into my eyes he pushed forward and surged his cock right up inside me.
I had never felt such emotions as when he slid deep into me and held himself rigid as we kissed. All thoughts of any impropriety, of wrongdoing or breaking laws left my mind. My loyalty to my husband vanished in a flash. This seemed so perfect, so natural and simply, so right. It felt as though we were doing what had always been ordained, what had been arranged and ordered for us by a greater force. It was what we both wanted and needed.
“What’s the matter?” He asked as he heard me sobbing and saw the tears running down my face.
“Nothing my darling.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I am just so happy; this is the most emotional thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Oh yes Jay, yes, I know what you mean,” he groaned kissing me and licking the tears from my cheeks. “Are you ok for this or should we wait?” he asked so considerately.
“Oh no, no, baby don’t wait, make love to me now, please.”
Then he started to fuck me with long, slow, deep thrusts.
It didn’t last long. It couldn’t. There was no need for length of time as the emotional intensity was so extreme that our minds were controlling events. It was that which was determining when both of us climaxed and it was that which gave me one of the strongest orgasms I had ever experienced. I was so pleased, though, that even as wave after wave of incredible feelings broke over me, I heard him grunting as his cock exploded and his spunk surged into me as we experienced our first mutual climax.
We slept together that night and made love for most of it. We stayed in the next day and in addition to making love for a lot of the time we talked. We talked about the inevitable divorce, what we would tell the different groups of friends, relatives, acquaintances, sports club members and work colleagues.
“Mum, you have to realise that I am in love with you?” he said round about mid-morning causing us to make love again güneyşehir escort bayan this time on the rug on the floor of my conservatory
Peter was due to go to university in two weeks’ time. Sometime during the afternoon, he said.
“I can’t leave you to handle what’s going to happen by yourself.”
“You have to go, you worked so hard.”
“University can wait, I can always go later.”
“But you want to go.”
“I can’t leave you; I want to be with you more than I want to go to uni.”
Reverting to the role of an authoritarian parent, I insisted for a while that he go but gave in over dinner and agreed that he didn’t have to go just yet.
“I want us to live together as man and woman, as lovers, not mother and son,” he excited and thrilled me by saying as we finished dinner with strong espressos.
I didn’t say it then, but that idea so excited me. It was exactly what I wanted, but I was too scared to suggest it.
The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of lovemaking, telling lies to nearly everyone we knew and receiving a seeming endless series of legal documents from Richard’s lawyers. A girl friend at the tennis club where I remained a member, we opted for Richard leaving that and me the golf club, gave me the name of the lawyer who had handled her divorce. I briefed her and simply let her get on with it. Richard was fair with his demands. In any case with the money I had received when I sold the family firm that had been safely invested and the inheritances I had received, my personal wealth far exceeded his. I didn’t want anything from him for myself and asking for maintenance for Peter, our son and my lover seemed incongruous.
There were many awkward moments particularly when people asked why Peter hadn’t gone to university. We had agreed to keep as near to the truth as possible. Obviously, we couldn’t say it was because he wanted to stay home and make love to his mum, so we said it was so he could help me cope with the divorce.
“Let’s move into town,” I suggested one evening when we were having dinner.
“Anywhere, I’ll rent. Maybe Docklands so I can keep an eye on our flat until the lease is finished in a few months.”
We talked about that for ages slowly refining the idea until we agreed a plan. Yes, we would get out of the house, but we wouldn’t move to London. Instead, we would move to Florida and rent somewhere there until things settled down.
I couldn’t wait to get away, to ‘escape’ as I saw it to Florida. Just how we would cope with the situation I hadn’t worked out, but it was a pretty relaxed place with lots of seemingly oddball characters so I wasn’t too worried: ‘We’ll work something out’ I told myself.
After that first time we had full sex on the evening Richard left we did it at least twice more that night. Our need and demand for each other was so great that we applied little subtlety to our lovemaking. Whilst tender, it was also raw and urgent. It was as though we had to make up for lost time and boy during that period did we do that? His sexual technique and his determination for me to gain as much pleasure as possible impressed me considerably. Feeling a little jealous I made a mental note to ask him about his South American conquests.
We stayed in bed most of the next day talking about what had happened and what we were going to do. Both of us several times reiterated that we wanted to live as lovers, not mother and son; I found that so sexy, but so right.
We also talked a lot. At one point we got onto birth control and I told him I was on the pill so he didn’t need to worry about me getting pregnant.
“In any case, I am not a very fertile woman that’s why there’s only you,” I grinned adding. “So, I doubt that I would conceive in any case at my age.”
“That’s a shame,” was his rather disturbing reply.”
I picked him up on that and he admitted that it was a fantasy of his to make me pregnant. That shocked me and made me realise this whole ‘adventure’ had more angles and was far more complicated than I had imagined.
I hurried the arrangements so that within three weeks of us being caught by Richard, we were flying Virgin upper class to Orlando. As the plane lifted off from Gatwick so much seemed to lift off from me as well. I felt better and with Peter next to me the future took on a slightly more encouraging light than it had in the fucking mausoleum of the St Albans house.
We drank too much on the plane and we both got rather giggly. I think it was the prospect of our ‘new life’ and the relief of getting away from home and Richard that caused that.
The quite beautiful looking two female cabin crew in their red skirts and white blouses were very attentive to us and the other two couples in upper class. As usual, however, I had to make the point that Peter was my son, I was embarrassed at what they were thinking when they escort güneyşehir heard us giggling and chatting and I was worried that they would have seen us touching the other’s arm or wrist. Again, I was sure they suspected that there was more between us than ‘motherly love;’ and they were absolutely correct. When they dimmed the lights for the film we held hands, as they had their lunch we kissed and as the other couples snoozed the afternoon away he caressed my breasts and I stroked his cock.
“God I so want you mum,” he groaned into my ear.
“I’ve always had an ambition to join the mile high club,” I smiled.
“We can’t here.”
“I know, I always visualised being shagged in the loo, but we would be noticed so we’ll have to pass,” I told him as he pinched my nipple through my bra.
Rather than take on the two-hour drive across Florida and down the east coast I had booked us into a hotel near Tampa for the first night, the idea being to have a rental car delivered to the hotel the next morning. We got to the hotel around two and Peter handled the checking in as I stood off to one side hoping the reservations clerk would not look closely and see my age. Peter decided to have a snooze on the bed so I opted to go to the pool.
It wasn’t very crowded and I found a sun bed in a corner of the large pool area. I was soon nearly asleep and my mind kept running over the amazing events of the past few weeks. Oddly, I didn’t feel as concerned about the future as I had during the first few days after Richard caught us so my mind was more on Peter and the sex we’d had. I smiled when I realised just how much there had been. As I slipped in and out of sleep, I worked out that the event with Richard had been twenty-four days ago. During that time Peter and I must have averaged having sex at least twice a day so my son had made love to me about fifty times in three weeks, probably more than his father had in the past two years I calculated. But it hadn’t all been penetrative sex. I had taught him other sexual techniques as well, though to be fair he didn’t need much educating. I wondered just what he had got up to on his travels through South America.
Waking up completely with a jerk I was relieved to realise I wasn’t touching myself or, worse still, actually masturbating. I felt so enormously aroused and I badly needed sex. As we had to get up early the next morning, last night was the first night we hadn’t had sex since we had been living together. Today had been frustrating. We had sat close to each other on the plane, we had kissed and caressed when the cabin staff weren’t looking and we had booked into the hotel together. Peter had drunk too much and was tired so needed to rest. Smiling as I got my things together at the pool I thought ‘he’s had enough rest, it’s time for him to perform.’ I went to the room and saw him sound asleep on the bed. He was lying on his back and looked to be naked under the thin duvet, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I carefully lifted it until I could see his body. As I slowly exposed him I thought how absolutely gorgeous he looked. Silently I hoped that what we had now could go on for ever, but I suddenly realised in fourteen years-time I would be sixty and he would still only be in his early thirties. That hit me hard, but didn’t deter me from pulling the duvet further down his lovely body. I smiled and gulped when it got down to his legs for he had an erection and his hand was wrapped loosely round it.
Kneeling on the bed as lightly as I could I leaned forward and kissed the bulbous head. It tasted salty, which was different to the taste of his cum that I had now experienced several times. I licked it all the way down to his balls. He moaned, moved a little and his hand fell away. That enabled me to take him into my mouth, but as I went to I had another idea. Licking right down the back of it where that thick vein or sinew or something runs I got to his balls. I licked all over them and then, holding one I sucked the other into my mouth and rolled it around in there for a few seconds. I repeated that with his other ball and then I took both into my mouth, ran my tongue all over them and sucked quite hard. At the same I slid my fingernail back from his balls and onto that little patch of ultra-sensitive skin between them and his bum. I scratched it gently. He moaned and I felt his hands on my head.
“Oh yes mum, what a lovely wake- up call,” he sighed as he wiggled one of his hands between our entwined bodies and found my tits in the bikini. He tried pulling them out, but it was quite tight so I reached behind me, unclipped it and pulled it off; I wanted him to have my tits. He took them and squeezed and rolled them with just the perfect weight and pressure; he was learning very fast. He pulled me a little roughly onto the bed making me tumble onto my back with my legs over his and my body at ninety degrees to him.
“I don’t think we need this anymore do we?” he muttered pulling the bikini pants down my legs and off.
I lay there with my knees over his looking at him and marvelling at how soon my young Lothario was taking over. It surprised me how he was starting to direct events, lead the action and, I realised with a feeling of some guilt, but also with a surge of sexual adrenalin, dominate me. I nearly shivered at the thought of him doing that to me more in the future.
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