APPREICATING MOM free porn video

Looking back, perhaps none of what happened is all that surprising. I can see now how circumstances fell into place like the pieces of a jigsaw, or perhaps like the meshing gears of a machine. Cause and effect with a dash of human weakness.

The weekend of my 18th birthday, my mother, my father and I had been out for dinner to celebrate my milestone. It was a pretty posh affair: a table for three in the most expensive restaurant in town My mother wore a very attractive new dress and my father and I were fully suited and booted. I have to admit that formal attire is generally none of my business - I'm strictly a jeans and sweatshirt kind of guy - but my parents had made a real celebration of my birthday, so the least I could do was grin and bear the monkey suit for a few hours.

In truth it was no hardship. The restaurant was great and I always got on well with my mum and dad so the evening flew by in a blur of excellent food, wine and conversation. The place even had a real musical quartet and a dance-floor and, to my embarrassment my mother insisted that I dance with her when we'd finished eating. I protested that I had no clue how to dance in any way that would be acceptable outside of a mosh pit. My mother just laughed and grabbed my hand.

"You just do what untrained boys always do during slow dances," she said. "Pop your arms around my waist and shuffle around in a slow circle looking bored."

"I'm not bored," I said. "I'm just going to make us both look silly."

"We'll see," she smiled.

As I put my arms around my mother she placed her hands on my shoulders and looked up at me from her five feet nothing. We began to sway in time to the music, our feet slowly tracing out a circular path, just as she had predicted.

"Well, you won't win Come Dancing," she said after a couple of minutes. "But I think you're doing fine for a non-dancer. You haven't broken a single one of my toes yet."

I persevered until the end of the song. When the music finished we joined the other couples in applauding the band and returned to our table. I pulled my mum's chair out and helped her to take her seat. As I sat down beside her she leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you, Andrew. You're quite a gentleman. I'm very proud of you."

"Me too," said my father. "You might have two left feet, Sunshine, but your mum's right. You're a decent lad - no, you're a decent young man - and we are proud of you."

We were always a close enough family, but never overly vocal or demonstrative about it. The words, especially from my usually laconic father, moved me unexpectedly. Perhaps it was partly because of the wine that I filled up with tears.

"Looks like you have something in your eye," my father said, winking as he passed me a clean napkin. "Oh for heaven's sake..." He found another for my mother.

* * * * *

The next day was Sunday. I awoke to the sound of movement elsewhere in the house. I glanced at my clock and groaned. Just after 9am was too early to get up on a Sunday - even on those Sundays when I didn't have a hang over. A slight headache and a touch of queasiness bore witness to the fact that I was more used to the occasional beer than I was to wine and champagne. Of course, once even half awake I had to get up to go to the bathroom and, of course, once I had been to the bathroom I was wide awake with no chance of getting more sleep, even if I did go back to bed. I pulled my robe on over my boxers and wandered downstairs.

My mother was making a cup of tea. She smiled at me. "Sit down. Toast will be a minute." She put a cup on the table in front of me.

"Thanks, Mum."

"How did you sleep? I think you were starting to fray at the edges by the time you went to bed." Mum started to wash some dishes and cups.

"Slept fine but I feel a little iffy this morning." I got up and went over to my mother. I stood behind her, holding her shoulders, and bent my head down to kiss the top of her head. "Thanks, Mum. It was a brilliant night." I sat back at the table and nursed my cup. The tea was still too hot to drink.

My mother looked over at me. "Good grief, you really did have a lot to drink, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Before this morning, when was the last time you kissed your poor old mum?"

"Last night."

"No, I kissed you last night: a peck on the cheek. When was the last time you gave me a kiss?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Christmas, probably."

"And it's now June," she said.

"That sounds really bad," I said. It did sound bad. She was teasing and I knew it, but even in jest she had a point.

My mum has always been great: kind, patient, understanding. She's a good laugh, great to talk to and she's always taken great care of me and my dad. She does all the mum things: cooking, housework, laundry, but she's also found time to run a part-time catering business and - a couple of years back - to do an Open University degree in psychology. She plays piano and has a broad taste in music. She even likes a lot of the same contemporary bands that I do, and she always copies my CDs and MP3s onto her phone.

I didn't take her for granted. I swear I really did appreciate my mum. I knew how intelligent, cool and hardworking and generally awesome she was. But as I sat in the kitchen while she joked about me never giving her a kiss I had a kind of epiphany moment. She was right. I never did give her a kiss, or a hug (although she would sometimes casually hug me in passing). Nor did I tell her I loved her or that I appreciated all that she did for us.

I actually felt ashamed. She was only teasing - my mum never complained or grumbled - she wasn't really scolding me for my neglect, but I felt as guilty as hell. For the second time in 24 hours I felt my eyes fill with water. I mumbled something about needing the bathroom before breakfast and beat a hasty retreat.

As I stood at the bathroom sink washing my face I resolved to show my mother the appreciation she deserved, and that I really did feel. After all, I was 18 now - time to start acting like a grown up rather than like a selfish k**.

I went back for my toast and sat down at the table. Mum looked at me curiously as she put a rack of toast and a clean plate in front of me. "You all right?"

"Yes, fine." I said confidently. And promptly burst into tears. For heaven's sake, what the hell was the matter with me?

Mum was taken aback. She hesitated for just the briefest moment then she hurried back to me and threw her arms around my head, hugging my face to her chest. "Oh, baby. What's wrong?"

I gently pushed her back just enough to free my face from her large, soft bosom.

"Apart from not being able to breathe?" I said, smiling sheepishly through my tears. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too, Andrew; but what on earth's wrong?"

I explained, as lucidly as I could, the revelation I had experienced as she had teased me. I told her how ashamed and devastated I had been at the realisation that I never showed her how much I loved her.

"Oh, baby, don't be silly. It really is probably still the wine from last night that's making you feel all sentimental. Don't worry, you'll be back to normal by lunchtime." She tipped my head up and kissed my forehead.

"I know you love me, Andrew. I don't need you to carry a banner around. We're just not the kind of family who make love into a display."

It was true. I was always faintly embarrassed by hugging and kissing amongst friends and family members. It was just something that hadn't been a feature of my upbringing. I felt kind of sorry about that sometimes. A lot of my friends had very demonstrative, even soppy, families, whereas my own family was kind of reserved. I'm an emotional sort of person, I think, even sentimental. I did like affectionate contact, but never felt comfortable or confident instigating it myself - with anyone except girlfriends, that is.

I finished my breakfast in silence then took my cup and plate over to the sink where my mother was still cleaning up. She washed them and put the put them on the draining board. As she turned around I wrapped my arms around her. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment - after all, I really didn't do this kind of thing - but I had resolved to change the way I treated my mother and I was determined to do just that.

I hugged her for a few moments. As I released her she looked up at me with surprise. I bent to kiss her cheek.

"I mean it when I said I was going to change," I said. "You're great, Mum and I've always known it, but I never bothered to tell you."

"Oh, baby." She gave me a hug of her own: a much more thorough one than the nervous attempt I had made. When she looked up at me again her eyes were shining. "You really are such a darling." She have me a shove. "But it's time you were showered and dressed. Your father was off to golf at the crack of dawn. You wouldn't catch him slobbing around in a robe halfway through the morning."

* * * * *

You may be expecting me to confess that I soon let things slide - after all, it's easy to slip back into old, lazy ways - but I didn't. I made an effort to be helpful around the house. Whenever my mother did something for me I made a point of thanking her properly, often with an accompanying hand on the shoulder, or a hug, or even the occasional kiss on the cheek. My mother accepted all this with a faint air of bemused delight. A side effect of the additional attention I paid her was that she paid me more in return.

Mum clearly loved to be loved and appreciated and she loved to be hugged. Within a week we both seemed to have adjusted to a new way of being with each other but, at the same time, we both revelled in the novelty and newness of it. It became natural for us to hug or to slip arms around each other's waists whenever an opportunity arose. It was completely natural, innocent and wonderful.

At the same time I began to notice how little attention my father seemed to pay to my mother. I was sure that he loved her. I know he respected her and he had been very proud of her when she got her degree, but he was still the same old, undemonstrative, head-in-the-newspaper dad he had always been. Of course, I forgot that I had, until recently, been guilty of the same thing and, like an ex-smoker scowling at the cigarettes of others, I disapproved of my father's lack of display of appreciation for the wonderful woman who made our lives so comfortable. I started to drop hints.

"Dad," I said one evening while he and I were watching television. "How come you and Mum don't go out together?"

"Hmm... I don't really know," he said. "I suppose we just don't have the time these days."

"But all you do is play golf and watch TV. And Mum's been practicing her piano for an hour. You could both have gone out for a drink or for dinner..."

"You trying to get rid of us so you can bring a girl home?" He lowered his paper and peered at me.

"No, Dad. I'm serious. Mum does so much for us. I just wondered how come you don't you take her out more often?"

"When did you become my marriage counsellor, Sunshine?" my father asked. His tone had altered slightly. He sounded just the tiniest bit peeved. "Your mother and I are fine, thank you very much." He raised the newspaper and then lowered it again. "Now you're all grown up you could take her out yourself," he said. "Just let me know if you do and I'll slip you the money to cover the cost before you go."

I didn't think it was sarcasm. It seemed more of a challenge: as if he were saying 'You're no better than me. Show me you're concerned enough to do something about it yourself'. At least that was the kind of vibe I thought I picked up.

"Why not?" I said. "Mum's good company and I spend way too much time in front of the TV. I might just do that."

He looked a little surprised. "Go ahead. I'll foot the bill if you can get her interested enough to go out. Your mum is in as much of a rut as I am. We're creatures of routine these days, Sunshine. We're happy to potter about. You'd be better off going out chasing girls."

Jesus, he made them sound like pensioners. Mum was 44 and he was only just 50. Old, yeah, but not that old.

"Don't worry," I said. "I get plenty of time to do that too." Which was kind of true. I was never short of a girlfriend. I'm one of those lucky fellas who seem to attract the opposite sex without trying. I'm pretty tall and I guess I'm pretty fit from the swimming that is my sport of choice. Despite my unashamedly casual sartorial bent I seem to be presentable enough, and I just get on well with girls. Anyway, although I hadn't actually had sex, I was getting plenty of attention and relief when needed, so I would find it no great hardship to find the time to take my mum out if she was up for it.

The following Friday evening I got home from school to find my father loading a small case into the back of his car. "See you Sunday evening, Sunshine," he called as he climbed into the driving seat.

"Sunday? Where are you going?"

"Scotland. Derrick's got pneumonia so there's a slot free in the Collins Laurel Tournament. They've asked me to shoot up there and make up the numbers."

"Isn't Mum going?"

"God no. She can't abide golf or the people who play it. Look after her while I'm away, eh? Oh, there's a note in your room. Got to rush..." He slammed the door and started the engine, waving as he pulled away.

"Mum?" I called as I entered the house.

She was in the sitting room, reading the paper. "Hello, dear," she smiled.

I excused myself to get showered and changed. As I pulled on my jeans I spotted an envelope on my computer desk. I opened it and read the note.

Andrew, This golf game came up at short notice. It was too good a chance to pass up, but I don't reckon your mum's too pleased. If you were serious about taking her out to cheer her up this might be a good time. Actually, you'd be doing me a favour as I'm half expecting to be in the doghouse when I get home. Anyway, if you do get the chance to entertain your mum then the evening's on me, as I said before. See you when I get back. Dad

PS: Don't go mad. I wouldn't mind seeing a little change out of this.

He'd drawn a winking smiley face after the PS.

I counted the wad of £20 notes from the envelope: there was £200 in total. At least no one could accuse the old man of being cheap. I grabbed my mobile phone and made a few calls.

By the time I got back to the sitting room my mother had put the newspaper down and seemed to have nodded off. She stirred as I sat on the sofa beside her.

"Sorry. I must have dozed off."

"You work too hard."

"No harder than anyone else," she smiled.

"Fancy a hug?" I opened my arms.

"Always," Mum replied and slid over to me. I wrapped her in my arms an she lay her head on my chest. "You know," she said. "I have to admit that I didn't really take a lot of notice when you spoke about making an effort to show me that you love me." She looked up at me. "You've really kept it up and it is so nice. Andrew, you are a lovely, lovely lad and the extra attention has begun to spoil me. I'm starting to feel entitled to all these cuddles."

"You are entitled, Mum. I was kind of shy at first - we've never been that kind of family - but it feels really nice to be able to cuddle up with my mum." I kissed her head and squeezed her gently. "I love you."

She sighed and snuggled into me happily. "With your dad out of the way and me feeling so lazy I might just stay like this all weekend."

"Suits me," I said and squeezed again.

She laughed. "But I'll have to get up in a while to get your dinner."

"No you won't. If you like we can go out for dinner."

She looked up at me again. "Hmm?"

"I tapped dad for a few quid so I could take you out. He's off pleasing himself, so why don't you let me spoil you properly?"

"You didn't!"

"Yes I did. Dad feels guilty already. He knows you're a bit pissed off about him shooting off on the spur of the moment, so he agreed to let me take you out to make sure your weekend wasn't ruined."

"Good heavens. Why would he do that? I rarely go out... And mind your language, young man."

"Sorry, Mum."

"He's a selfish so-and-so."

For a moment I thought I'd just made her cross by mentioning dad going AWOL, but she snuggled back and hugged me again.

"You, on the other hand, are a real sweetie. You'd really take me out for dinner?"

"Of course. In fact, I've booked us a table for 8 o'clock and a taxi for 7.45, so I calculate we've got about 20 minutes of cuddling before you need to start getting ready."

"Really?"

"Honest. Cross my heart."

Mum made a small excited noise and kissed my chin. "Where are we going?"

"You'll have to wait and see, but it's the kind of place where we need to look presentable, so I'm going to have to change as well."

"You mean wear a proper shirt? Again? That'll be twice in a month. People will start to worry about you."

"Let them worry. I may prefer to slob about in jeans, but if I'm taking a lady out I have to do it right."

We settled into our cuddle and didn't speak again until it was time to get ready. As I sat there cradling my mum in my arms I was happy, warm and relaxed. Surely nothing could feel better than being close to the person I loved most in the world.

I had been ready for a good fifteen minutes when the cab arrived. I waved out of the window to let the driver know I'd seen him. When I turned to call out to my mother she was coming down the stairs.

"Wow, Mum!"

"What do you reckon?" she asked uncertainly, giving me a twirl as she reached the hall.

"You look amazing... Like a different person."

"Think it's appropriate?" she asked, still a little doubtful.

"Hell, yes." I hesitated. "You look..."

"What? Like I'm trying too hard? Like mutton dressed as lamb?"

"Well, please don't be offended... I probably shouldn't say it, but... My god, Mum, you look hot."

She giggled.

Her outfit was all black. I'd never seen the dress before. It was knee length with a fairly tight skirt. The bodice was cut lower than anything I could recall seeing her wearing, and Mum was displaying an impressive cleavage. Honestly, I had never really given much thought to the fact that my mum had a figure, but she surely did and it was a bloody good one. Her breasts were large and the skin exposed by the low neckline was clear and pale. By no means wasp-waisted, Mum did curve in enough in the middle to make the flare of her curvy hips a beautiful sight to behold. Her long dark brown hair was down, hanging forward over one shoulder. Around her shoulders she wore a silky, crocheted black shawl.

I was never a fan of thin, blonde clone models. Most of my... personal magazines and pictures on my computer featured voluptuous women. My mother was, undeniably, voluptuous. I was stunned. In an instant my perceptions had been scrambled. My mum was a woman. My mum was a very attractive woman. I suddenly felt uncomfortable; tongue tied and confused. I wasn't sure how to act towards her.

"Baby? Are you ok?"

"Well, yes, I suppose," I said, trying to moderate my scrutiny a little. Leering at my own mother? What the hell was up with that?

"Do you want a coat?" I asked.

"No thanks, honey. I'll be fine like this."


I smiled. "You certainly will! Honestly, mum, you took my breath away. You are totally gorgeous and I never noticed before. What is that all about?"

She giggled again. "Nice to know I can still pull the odd surprise out of the wardrobe," she said.

The cab got us to the restaurant in good time. I had called a few friends and got a few suggestions of good restaurants. I had then phoned around to see which ones had a dance floor and music. I'd never been to The Oaks before, but I had heard of it, Like the place we had gone at my birthday, this was supposed to be a pretty classy establishment. I was gratified to see my mum's eyes widen when she saw where we were going.

"Honey, are you sure?"

I offered her my arm, which she took. "I suppose we could go to KFC instead, but there will be a queue at this time on a Friday evening. I reckon we're stuck with this. Sorry."

Mum laughed and allowed me to escort her inside.

Our table was in a nice quiet corner but with easy access to the dance floor. Music was provided by an elegant middle aged lady at a grand piano. We ordered wine and perused the menu. I suppressed a chuckle as I scanned the prices. Dad may not see as much change as he'd hoped from his £200. After we ordered our food I gathered my courage about me and stood up, offering a hand to my mum.

"As it's a slow tune I thought you might be willing to risk crushed toes again," I said.

My mother beamed up at me and got to her feet. She shed her shawl and we moved out onto the floor. I'm afraid my technique hadn't improved, but I hoped that it was the thought that counted. Mum searched my face as we danced in our slow, unimaginitive circle.

"Andrew, I really don't know what to make of you," she said. "You're a lovely young man and I've always been proud of you. You never been a rebel or a pain in the bum. You do fine at school... I just don't understand the sudden change. Why you've suddenly taken to paying me such a lot of lovely attention. It's just a little bit weird."

I must have looked alarmed or upset. I certainly almost stumbled.

"No, don't get me wrong," Mum said quickly, tightening her arms around me. "I'm most certainly not complaining. I'm very, very happy with our new closeness..." She hesitated. "In fact, I think I am only just now starting to realise how happy it has made me. My goodness..." Her eyes filled up and she pressed her face against my chest. We danced for a couple more minutes and by the time we returned to the table, Mum had regained her composure.

A couple of times as we ate and chatted I found myself gazing at my mother's cleavage.

"Think it's too much?" she asked, looking down at her chest. "I usually keep them under wraps." I felt my face redden. Damn, she had noticed me looking.

"Sorry, mum. I... I'm just not used to you looking like that. And no, I don't think it's too much. You are beautiful. You are really beautiful."

"And you are a handsome fellow," Mum said. "I know you hate dressing up, so I really appreciate this."

"Well," I said. "I'll do it for you, but no one else would get me to wear this stuff."

"Hmm. Perhaps if you knew how good you looked..."

"What?"

"Well, I think you'd find it impressed the girls if you made an effort more often. I don't want your head to swell, honey, but you are exactly what a lot of girls dream of: tall, dark, handsome and and a natural gentleman."

"So much for not swelling my head," I laughed.

We decided to have one more dance before dessert. Between tunes I went over and asked the pianist if she would play another slow number. She smiled and nodded. Our "dance" was basically a long hug set to music.

As we left my mother stopped on the step above the one upon which I stood. This brought her a little closer to my altitude. She pinched a cheek in each hand and pulled me towards her, planting a quick, firm kiss on my lips with a deliberate and audible "Mwah!" for emphasis.

"You will never know how much I loved tonight. To be taken out and treated like a queen by my handsome, grown up son... Honey, you made me the happiest mum in the world. The happiest woman in the world."

"Fancy doing it again sometime?" I asked as I held the cab door for her.

"Oh, honey, I'd love to, but you have a life of your own. You don't want to spend it consoling lonely old women."

I slid into the seat beside her. "Are you lonely, mum?" I asked, concerned.

"Just a figure of speech," she said. "What I mean is that there must be hundreds of girls out there who would scratch my eyes out if they thought I was keeping you to myself."

I laughed and held my arm up so she could snuggle into me.

When we got home I started some coffee. As I came out of the kitchen into the sitting room I heard music.

"One more dance with my handsome prince before he changes back into a frog?" Mum held her arms out. I shrugged and wrapped her in my own arms.

We swayed for a while. I kissed Mum's hair, enjoying her fragrance. I couldn't resist lifting a hand to stroke her rich dark chestnut hair.

"Mmm," she murmured, snuggling closer.

As the music finished we parted a little and looked into each others eyes. There was a brief silence and then I said, "I love you, Mum."

"Oh, I love you too, baby."

Silence again.

I shook myself. "Well, I hate to break the spell you've cast on me tonight, but if I don't get out of this monkey outfit I'll go mad. Please may I go and change into my bed stuff before coffee?"

"Go on then. I'll do the drinks."

I showered and changed into the sweatpants and t-shirt I used for pyjamas. When I got back downstairs Mum had changed and was in her robe.

"Want to watch TV, she asked."

"Not really," I said. "Why not just leave the music on."

We sat on the couch with our drinks. When we'd finished I sat back and did the thing that had become a reflex whenever I was sitting with Mum: I lifted my arm and she scooted up to snuggle. I wrapped the arm around her and pulled her in close, burying my face in her hair again and kissing her head. She sighed happily. For a while we just wallowed in the warm cosiness of the embrace. My hand stroked up and down Mum's side. I became aware of the contours of her waist and hips. My hand paused.

"You okay, honey?" she asked, her voice muffled by my sweatshirt where her face was pressed to my chest.

I didn't answer for a moment. I felt her begin to move to look at me, but I held her to let her know that I wanted her to stay where she was.

"I think I'm going a bit nuts," I said.

"Really? More than usual?"

"Definitely."

"Why's that?"

"I love you, Mum."

"I know, honey, and I love you."

"I love you so much, Mum. Sometimes I actually think I'm in love with you." Again she shifted. "No, please don't look at me. I'm blushing like a girl and I need to finish talking."

"Okay, baby. Go ahead." Her voice was gentle, reassuring.

"I think about you all the time, Mum. The closeness, the love... Nothing in my life has ever been so perfect. I just don't have the words to tell you how much I love you with all my heart."

"Oh, baby..."

"Tonight... This is hard to say... When I saw you in that dress it was like meeting a new person, but one I already loved. Mum, you really, literally took my breath away. You're not just Mum, you're a woman. The hottest, most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. I am totally in love with you. Okay, you can yell at me now."

For a moment neither of us moved. Then my mum's arm that had been d****d across my waist reached further around and hugged me. She didn't say anything for a while, just pulled me tightly to her. I kissed her head again and tried to blink my eyes clear of tears. I couldn't believe what I had just said. It had come out of nowhere - surprising me as much as I expected it had surprised my mother - but as I replayed the moment in my mind there wasn't a single word I wanted to take back. Eventually she sat up. I could feel the heat still reddening my cheeks. I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

Mum looked into my eyes. Her expression was soft, concerned, searching.

"How could I yell at you, my beautiful boy?" she said softly. "Things have certainly changed. I don't think a little confusion is all that surprising, do you?"

"I don't think I'm feeling any confusion, Mum." I kissed her cheek and hugged her to me.

"Once again the wine takes its toll," she said. "Time to turn in, honey. If things look different in the morning we can put the weirdness down to the booze and just remember our lovely evening. On the other hand if you still feel a little nuts, as you put it, then we can talk more."

"You don't think I'm creepy, do you?" I asked.

"At this moment, baby, I don't know what I think. But I know what I don't think, and I don't think you are creepy. I don't think there's anything wrong with you at all. You're just a beautiful person bursting with love. I'm as proud of you now as I ever was."

She knelt up on the sofa and put a finger under my chin. Tilting my face, she kissed me, gently and chastely, on the lips. It wasn't a peck, but a firm, warm pressure. A confident, deliberate expression of love from my mother and my very best friend.

"Off you go," she said. "See you in the morning."

"'Night, Mum." I clambered a little unsteadily to my feet and wandered off up the stairs. My head was buzzing, but I knew that wine had nothing to do with it.

* * * * *

I awoke to the smell of bacon cooking. I rose and showered, then pulled on clean jeans and a clean check shirt. I paused on the stairs remembering what had transpired the night before. My head was clear now. I took a deep breath and went into the kitchen.

"Morning, honey." Mum came over and hugged me. "Sit yourself down. Your sandwiches will be a few minutes."

I hesitated for a split second then caught my mother's hand as she went to move back to the cooker. She looked down at my hand and then into my eyes.

"A moment," she said. She gently freed her hand, went across to the cooker and slid the pan out from under the grill. "Don't want to burn your bacon," she said. She came back to me and took my hand. "What's on your mind, baby?" she asked.

"You are, Mum," I said. My throat felt dry.

"Still?"

"Still."

"Not the wine?"

"Not the wine."

"Ah."

"Ah."

"What am I going to do with you?" she said, shaking her head.

"Well..." My heart hammered in my chest. "You could kiss me."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. "Any time, my lovely prince," she smiled.

I slipped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her close. A finger of my other hand stroked her cheek. I bent and kissed the spot I had just touched, then I kissed her other cheek.

"I need to finish your bacon," she smiled pulling away. I held fast and she looked up at me., She didn't speak, but raised her eyebrows as if to say 'well?'

The I did the craziest thing I ever did in my life. I cupped her chin in my hand and raised it, then I kissed my mother full on the lips. Not a peck, not a mother/son kiss, but a kiss of sheer ,romantic adoration. It was tentative, but firm, and I held for some seconds before breaking and looking at my mum's face.

I was terrified. Would she be upset, angry, horrified?

Mum returned my gaze levelly. "I love you, honey," she said. "That was beautiful, but I am your mother."

"I know who you are," I said simply. "And I'm in love with you." I pulled her back towards me and kissed her again. She didn't resist, and I saw her close her eyes. She didn't put her arms around me, and she didn't actively return the kiss, but there was no tension.

"Baby..." she said quietly. "I'm your mum."

"I know who you are," I said again. And I kissed her again. This time her hands came to rest on my hips, and her lips parted slightly. She closed her eyes again. The kiss lasted maybe five or six seconds.

"Oh, Andrew. We need to talk, honey." Mum took my hand and led me to the sofa in the sitting room. We sat and she took my hand in hers. "Baby, I can see what's happening here," she said. "Remember you said about how we weren't much of a family for hugging and kissing and all that? And when you saw the way some of your friends' families are it made you realise that you never showed me that you loved me?"

I nodded.

"Well, it's quite true that we've never been a terribly cuddly bunch. You know what I think? I think that you are used to physical expressions of affection pretty much only from girlfriends. I think you've come to associate hugging and kissing exclusively with that kind of relationship. With the way we've grown so close it's no wonder a little confusion has crept in." She looked into my eyes and smiled. "But there's no harm done. I love you and you love me. We can adjust. It's just a matter of clarifying the relationship. Firmly establishing it as a family one rather than a romantic one."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, mum. I don't think I'm confused. I think I see things very clearly. I know you're my mum and I know we're family. You are a fantastic mum, and I love you as a fantastic mum. But I also love you as a beautiful, loving, kind, intelligent, amusing and attractive woman. Mum, you leave the other girls standing in a cloud of your dust. You are light years ahead of them in depth, in character and..." I almost chocked on the word. "In sexiness." I lifted her hands to my lips and kissed them. "I'm sorry to be a pain in the arse. I know it's complicated and I'm causing you big problems, but I am, without doubt, completely in love with you." Once again, my face was burning. My ears must have been positively glowing, but I had to say what I felt.

"Oh, baby... But what on earth did you think could come of it? We're mother and son. I'm married to your father."

"I know all that, and I have no idea what I thought could come of it. I hadn't thought ahead. I just... I don''t know. I guess I want things to be as they are with us being close and touching and cuddling and kissing. Especially kissing. Mum, I dream about kissing you, about kissing you properly."

"Oh, honey..."

Yet again, to my immense frustration I felt tears well in my eyes. "Mum, I love you so much."

Pure motherly instinct made my mum reach out her arms to me and I fell into them. She held me to her and stroked my hair, shushing me like a baby. I eventually got a grip and stopped crying, then I sat myself up.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Mum."

"Nothing to be sorry for," she said. She gave me a push in the chest. "Back," she said. I obeyed and leant back into my cushion. Mum slapped my arm. "Lift," she ordered. I did so and she snugged into my armpit assuming her usual cuddle position. "Squeeze," she said, and I tightened the arm that was d****d around her. "Hmm." She grunted her approval.

"Mum..."

"Just hold me for a while, baby," she said. "I'm thinking."

I held my mother. As usual I couldn't resist stroking and kissing that beautiful chestnut mane. Her warmth radiated into me and I knew I was in the best place in the world.

Eventually she roused herself, sat up and turned in her seat to face me. "Andrew, you say you're happy with our relationship?"

"Very happy, Mum. I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Despite the way your feelings seem to have developed in an... unexpected way, you are happy to go on as we are?"

"Yes, but I just had to tell you. I had to let you know the truth."

"I know. And you said that you dream of kissing me?"

"Oh god, I do. All the time."

"If we were to kiss properly, but otherwise go on as we have been, would that help? I mean would it make you happy or would it make things worse - more difficult."

"I... think it would make everything perfect," I stammered.

"Well, shall we see then?" she asked.

There was no way I was going to hesitate and risk her changing her mind. I took her face in my hands and drew her towards me. Just before our lips touched I saw my mother close her eyes and I did the same. Once again I thrilled to the contact with her soft, warm, moist lips. Mum parted her lips a little and pressed them against mine. Her hand came up to the back of my neck and held me to her. Our lips moved gently against each other. Neither of us touched the other with tongues. After half a minute or so we parted.

"Wow, Mum," I said and held her tightly to me.

"Definitely," she said returning the embrace.

"Again," I said, and she laughed.

"In for a penny, I suppose..." We kissed again. There is a natural position that people seem to assume when kissing - a kind of standard snogging embrace. We gradually rearranged our arms until we fell into that time-honoured configuration.

I lost myself in the kiss. After a minute or so I found the tip of my tongue tracing the line of my mother's lips. As I realised I opened my eyes, briefly alarmed that I may have gone to far. I saw Mum's eyes flicker open. She paused for just the briefest of moments then closed her eyes again and relaxed in my arms. The sound she made was little more than a sigh, but it was unmistakably a happy sound. My tongue continued to explore the soft lips I was kissing, and we lasted a couple more minutes before coming up for air.

"Oh my goodness," my mother gasped. Then she laughed. Well, giggled is probably a more accurate word. She composed herself. "Well?" she asked. "Does it help?"

I tried to say "Hell yes, it helps," but my mouth just worked like that of a fish and no words came out. She laughed again. I gave up trying to speak and just pulled her to me and kissed her again.

"Whoah, greedy boy." She eventually pulled away. "We still haven't had breakfast!" Mum stood up. I followed her example. "Okay, she said. "Food." She turned towards the door to the kitchen.

"Wait." I caught her hand again and spun her around to face me. I caught her in my arms. "I am in love with you, Mum. I love you with all my heart.

"One more kiss. Just one more, then I promise I'll let you get away for a few minutes."

"Oh god. What kind of monster have we unleashed here?" she smiled. "One more kiss. And don't get too used to it: you won't be able to keep grabbing me for a snog when your father is around. He wouldn't understand."

"Okay, mum. This time though, please would you touch my lips with your tongue?"

She looked up at me. The tongue thing did slightly change the nature of the kiss and I could see her questioning the wisdom, but eventually she nodded and lifted her face to mine.

The kiss just grew. The moment our tongues touched it became a 100% investment of emotion from us both. The difference in our height was awkward. Without breaking the kiss I lifted my mother up and carried her to the sofa. I sat down and positioned her so she was sitting in my lap, then I melted back into heaven.

I don't know how long we went for it. Ten minutes, maybe? When we broke again mum looked genuinely dazed. She kissed me several times on the mouth. Just briefly.

"Oh, my goodness. What are you doing to me, baby?"

"Loving you," I said.

"Are you sure this is right, Andrew? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well I'm not so sure I can," she said. "But I also know that I couldn't stop now if I wanted to." She kissed me for another half minute, her tongue working hungrily against mine. "Oh, Andrew... I love you," she said as we parted.

We hugged for another five minutes, Mum still on my lap, then she jumped off smartly. "Ha! This time I'm taking no chances," she smirked and vanished into the kitchen. I laughed as I stood up to follow, but the laugh choked off as I realised that the front of my loose sweatpants was thrust out in front of me. It was obvious and 100% predictable, but my mind was not working at anywhere near optimum clarity and I was caught unawares by my own reaction. I headed to the stairs.


"Won't be a minute," I called. "Just need the loo before breakfast."

"Well hurry up. It'll be ready in a minute or two."

I bolted up the stairs and into the bathroom. There was nothing for it. I couldn't go in for breakfast with an erection so I had to take care of business. I felt guilty as I stroked myself into the washbasin. Try as I might to visualise models and actresses, my mind was only interested in replaying the kisses I'd shared with my beautiful mother. I spurted within seconds. I cleaned myself and the washbasin, urinated and washed my hands then went down for breakfast.

Eating, and then washing the breakfast dishes was torture. I just wanted my mother back in my arms. When we were done she allowed me to reach for her. I sat on a kitchen chair and pulled her onto my lap. she sat with her arms d****d around my neck, looking into my eyes.

"So, lover boy, are you off out today or are you hanging around the house with your poor old mum?"

I kissed her. "What do you think?"

Mum laughed. "Greedy boy!" Then she leaned in and kissed me back. A full, passionate kiss that fully occupied my attention for a dozen or so seconds. "But you needn't think you're going to spend all day snogging me. I have chores to do, and anyway, you'll soon get bored of kissing me then you'll be off looking for pretty young things again."

I answered soberly. "Two things, Mum. Firstly, you still don't get it. This isn't a novelty thing, it's an I-love-you thing. I love you. I am in love with you. I will love you forever and I don't care about girls. Secondly..." and I interrupted my speech by helping myself to a deep french kiss, to which she did not object. "...Sod the chores. I'll help you with whatever you need to do tomorrow. Today I just want us to be together. Please."

She sighed and laid her head on my my shoulder. "I'm sure I should be discouraging all this," she said. "But, as I don't seem to be the sane, responsible person I thought I was... Well, how shall we spend our day?"

"How about a picnic? We could drive out to Ashridge."

"Nice idea. Okay, I'm game. But we have to get up tomorrow and get the odd jobs done."

"Deal," I said. "Before we go out though..."

"What?"

"I want a few more minutes cuddling you." I stood up with Mum still in my arms and carried her through to the sofa again. I sat, with her landing in my lap again.

"My god, boy, haven't you had enough yet?"

I looked into her eyes. "Never," I said softly.

"Oh, baby," she said, and the next thing I knew her lips were pressed hotly against mine. We kissed more deeply than ever. When we broke for air I swept her hair away from the side of her neck and kissed along the line of her jaw, finally kissing and nibbling at her neck and ear.

"Oh, sweet Jesus Christ, honey. You can't do that.." She pulled away in what seemed almost like panic.

"What's wrong?"

"That's... just not a good idea."

I pulled her back and resumed kissing her neck, deliberately putting as much love and passion into each soft contact as I could. I found spots that seemed to sap her of any will to resist or protest and I concentrated on those places.

"I mean it," she said, and struggled free, getting to her feet. "That's a little too far, I think." She reached out her hands to encourage me out of my seat. "And we won't get our picnic if we don't get a move on. You go and get the fold-up chairs and a blanket. I'll get some food together."

* * * * *

Ashridge is a large forested area dotted with picnic places. As we drove the seven or eight miles to get there I studied my mother's profile. How did I ever go so many years without realising how beautiful she was? The clear skin of her face was decorated by just a few light freckles. A very few tiny lines adorned the corners of her eyes. Her gorgeous, thick dark hair sported a few strands of grey, and she did nothing to hide them. In fact, my mum rarely bothered with makeup or other artificial aids to beauty. She was a natural stunner.

It was a warm, late June day and Mum had worn a light, white cotton blouse and a loose, full length black skirt of Indian cotton. As she drove my eyes drank her in.

"I can feel you staring at me," she said. "You're making me feel self conscious."

"I'm not staring: I'm appreciating," I replied.

"Yeah, well whatever... Knock it off, you'll make me blush."

I chuckled and continued looking. My gaze wandered to the front of Mum's blouse. Her full bosom filled the white cotton so it stretched quite tightly over her chest. I could make out the lacy pattern of her bra through the material. There was no doubt that my mum had a terrific figure: soft, curvy, beautiful.

I pulled myself together. The last thing I wanted was to be caught staring at Mum's breasts. I looked back at her face.

She glanced across at me and smiled. "Looking a little flushed yourself, handsome. You all right?"

"Fine. Just looking forward to spending the day with you."

"It's going to be lovely," she smiled, turning her attention back to the road.

Ashridge was busy, as I had expected it to be on a hot summer Saturday, but we had been going there since I was a little k**, for picnics in the summer and to collect holly for Christmas wreaths in winter: we knew places that would still be peaceful. Mum turned into one of the forestry maintenance tracks. I jumped out and unhooked the chain that stretched across the track, hooking it back in place when mum had driven the Honda 4x4 past. I jumped back in and we drove about ¼ mile before parking up near a pond. We set out our picnic and watched the birds and dragonflies flitting about over the water. The hot weather meant that the ground was dry so we just spread our blanket in the shade at the bottom of a great oak tree, not bothering with the chairs.

After eating I leaned back against the rough bole and gazed at my mum. "What could be better than this?" I said. "It's a great day, and you make the forest beautiful."

"Oh, please! Mr smooth!"

I blushed. "I mean it, Mum."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey." She crawled over on her hands and knees and sat next to me. I put an arm around her shoulders. She chuckled. "It was a lovely thing to say, but it is a bit of a cheesy line."

"Doesn't make it less true," I protested.

"Flatterer."

"You make it easy to do by being so gorgeous."

She slapped me gently and giggled. "Oh, knock it off. You are such an operator!"

I laughed and hugged her close. We sat for some time, listening to the sounds of the forest. Every so often the breeze brought fragments of human voices from the picnic areas where the suckers battled for the limited space. The area upon which we had trespassed was not only chained off at the mouth of the track, but the whole section was fenced off and had been for years - presumably for safety, as there were a number of deep ponds in the vicinity. We always came here and had never seen another human being. People just seemed to naturally accept the proscriptions implied by chains and fences.

"Mum," I said. She looked up at me, as I knew she would, and I kissed her for a while. When we broke our faces stayed close together. She moved back in and helped herself to a kiss of her own, her tongue pressing against mine.

As the kiss went on I became aware of my mother's breasts pressed against my chest. I also became aware that I had an erection. At that moment I admitted to myself something that had been obvious for weeks. Something that I hadn't dared face head-on. I wanted my mum. I wanted to make love to my mother.

I stroked her face, cupping it in my hand as I kissed her with what must have been a naive blend of desperation and tenderness. Whatever emotions I did radiate seemed to appeal to my mum as she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me harder. When we separated this time my lips were numb and I was breathing hard to replace the oxygen I had not bothered with for the last several minutes. I dropped a hand as casually as I could into my lap to conceal the reaction that the kiss had produced.

"Oh my," my mum said, gazing into my eyes and smiling. Then the smile faded and her eyes widened. "Oh my."

"What?"

She knelt up, facing me. "Kiss me again."

I reached out and took her face in my hands. I leant forward and kissed her deeply for half a minute or so. As the kiss ended, I embelished it with fleeting kisses on her mouth and the tip of her nose.

"I'm in love with you," I said.

"I know," she whispered. Her eyes were still wide when she said the words that rocked my world. "And I am in love with you."

Not "I love you" which she had said to me countless times, but "I am in love with you".

"You are? Really?"

"Apparently."

"Like in love? The same way I am with you?"

She didn't answer. She just gazed into my eyes, her face flushed and her eyes wide. As I looked back at her I saw tears form.

"Mum?"

She stood up and one of the tears spilled out onto her cheek. I stood as well.

"Hold me," she said. I stepped over and wrapped her in my arms. "Andrew," she said into my chest. "My beautiful, handsome baby... I love you." She pulled away slightly and looked into my eyes again. Then, clearly, determinedly she said: "You are the most wonderful young man anyone could imagine. You are my beautiful son, but you are also the most loving man I have ever known. I am most certainly as much in love with you as you say you are with me. Romantically, passionately in love... and I don't know what the hell to do about it. If I had a responsible bone in my body I would be trying to work out how to put this mess right. But I obviously don't have a single ounce of responsibility in me..."

"Good," I said, and kissed her.

As we separated she looked down at the front of my shorts. I had been pressed against her as we kissed. "Oh, baby," she said as she saw the bulge. "Just one complication after another."

"I'm sorry, Mum," I said, blushing hotly.

"Lie down on the blanket, honey," she said. "Let's cuddle."

I didn't need telling twice. As I lay down, Mum nestled in beside me, her shoulder under my arm and her head resting on my own shoulder. She d****d her arm across my chest.

"Mum..."

"Yes, Andrew?"

"I'm sorry, about..."

"No need to be sorry, honey. Just a normal reaction to being close - really close - to a woman. You're a man now. These things happen." She chuckled. "I told you that you were a flatterer!"

We laughed and I felt a little less embarrassed. "I guess I'm lucky you didn't notice before," I said.

"Before?"

"Like just about every time we kiss."

"Oh baby."

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Does it do anything to you when we kiss?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, then, "Yes, honey, it does."

"For me it is the most... amazing feeling I've ever known," I said. "I just sink into how soft and warm you are. It's like melting from love for you, and..." I hesitated. "I get really excited. I've told you that you're beautiful, and I told you how hot you looked when we went out. Mum, you are so hot... Being close to you and kissing you... Oh my god, mum. I just get really excited... and really hard."

"Wow."

"What about you?"

Again there was a long hesitation before she spoke. "I guess I feel about the same, baby," she said. "Kissing you melts me inside. It makes my heart race with love. Makes me hot..." She hesitated again then, almost in a whisper, she added, "and... wet."

I raised myself on an elbow and looked down at her. Her eyes were still wide, almost fearful. I knew how she felt. I was terrified myself. I brought my lips down to hers.

We had opened our hearts and confessed the strength and nature of our love. If the kisses we had shared before were intense then I do not have the words to describe the kiss we shared then. There was a desperation, each struggling to assert our own love and not to be swept away by the strength of feeling flooding in from the other. My lips felt bruised. My tongue ached. My erection, pressed against my mum's hip, pulsed with the hammering of my heart.

I raised myself up on my elbow again. My eyes followed the sweep of my mother's pale neck down to the swell of her bosom. Tentatively, half expecting to be stopped, I reached for her breast, filling my palm with the large pliant mound. Even through her blouse and bra I could feel a hard nipple pressing into the centre of my palm. I squeezed.

"Oh, honey..." she closed her eyes. Mum let her arm lie limp at her side as I caressed her breast, not making even a token effort to stop me. "Go ahead," she said. "You can touch me."

I ran my hand over both breasts, squeezing first one then the other. They were very big, very soft, but still firm. Even though Mum was lying down, her boobs refused to succumb entirely to the pull of gravity, and they jutted stubbornly skyward as I gently kneaded them.

I moved my hand to the top button of her blouse and undid it. Mum took a deep breath that made her bosom rise, but she said nothing. I undid a second button... A third... until I had undone every button down to where her blouse tucked into the waistband of her skirt. I slid a hand into her blouse and onto her bra covered breast. With a layer removed, the nipple poked more noticably into my palm as I squeezed the big soft breast. I pinched the nipple gently though the bra. Mum moaned softly. I Pulled her blouse open to expose her bra. It was pale pink and lacy. The cups covered a little more than half of each breast covering the nipples but not going much above that level.

"I have to look at you, Mum," I whispered. "You're so beautiful."

I knelt up. I just had to fill my hands with her glorious big boobs. I placed a hand on each breast and just kneaded and squeezed.

A sound brought my attention to her face. My mum's eyes were open. She was watching me. "So, you're a boob man then," she giggled.

I blushed. "Oh god, Mum. I... I'm speechless. I've never seen... I mean, you're..." I kept squeezing, shaking my head at my inability to express the sheer bliss felt by an 18 year old whose hands were filled with the most incredible breasts in the world, for such I was certain mum's must be.

She giggled again. "It opens in front, honey," she said softly.

"Huh?"

"My bra. It opens in the front."

I couldn't do it. My hands were shaking too much. "Mum..."

"Here." she reached up to release the clasp, but before she could do it I felt a sudden wave of warmth and overwhelming physical sensation.

"Oh... No... NO!" I hunched over in horror and embarrassment as my erection throbbed and I squirted hot semen into my shorts. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed miserably. I had plunged from heaven to hell in the space of ten secondI knelt beside my mother, my face burning with shame and embarrassment as I buried it in my hands. The forest around us seemed to have fallen silent. It felt as if the whole of creation was focused upon my humiliation.

I had been mere seconds from bliss when my body and my youthful inexperience and lack of control had betrayed me. My beautiful mother had been about to undo her bra. She was going to let me see and touch the wonderful breasts that I had fondled through her underwear but, even before her fingers could release the clasp that nestled between the cups, excitement had overwhelmed me and I had come in my shorts.

I heard her move and felt her arms around me. She kissed my head as I kept my face covered.

"Don't worry, baby," she said, hugging me. "It's no big deal. To be honest I was half expecting it to happen sooner." She gently, but insistently, pulled my hands from my face. "It is what young men do," she said, kissing my cheek. "Excitement and hormones are a hard combination to control. Your dad had his moments of... impatience when we were young." She chuckled, but I knew she wasn't laughing at me. "In fact, when we were teenagers he had plenty of impatient moments. Goodness knows what your granny thought when she did his laundry."

"Oh god, Mum...." I groaned and leant my forehead on her shoulder. "So close! Another couple of seconds and..." I lifted my head and looked down. Her blouse still hung open. I could see her magnificent bosom straining at the pretty pink lace of her bra.

Mum smiled and kissed me. She sat back on her heels. "They're not going anywhere, darling." She put her hands under her breasts and bounced them up and down. My jaw dropped open, and despite my premature orgasm of a minute before I felt my cock twitch. Mum stood up and reached out a hand. "Let's pack this stuff up and get you home. Get yourself showered and freshened up, then you'll feel better. After that, if you're a good boy, I'll see if I can find a way to make up for your disappointment."

My heart leapt with hope. Ignoring the stickiness in my pants I jumped to my feet and began to gather away the picnic stuff while my mother watched with an expression of fond amusement.

* * * * *

When we got home I showered and changed into a clean t-shirt and shorts. I was still embarrassed about spurting off in my pants, but I wasn't about to let that destroy my surreal and wonderful weekend. I found my mother on the sofa in the sitting room. A bottle of white wine and two glasses stood on the coffee table in front of her. I was pleased to see that she hadn't changed her outfit. She still wore the thin, white cotton blouse and loose, long black cotton skirt. There was nothing at all overtly sexy or even glamorous about the outfit, but somehow it was just right. Kind of demurely pretty, but at the same time it didn't really conceal the glorious curves of the full, mature figure beneath. Mum smiled as I sat beside her.

"Open the bottle for me, please?" she passed me a corkscrew.

I poured the wine and we sat back. Mum snuggled under my arm with her head on my chest. We sipped our drinks. The wine was nice and dry, and ice cold. I drank half of my glass and leant forward to put my glass on the table. Mum did the same.

"Feeling better now?" she asked.

"Much. Still feel like a stupid teenager though."

Mum reached up and hooked a hand around the back of my neck. She pulled me down and we kissed. Mum sighed into my mouth and worked her tongue against mine. We broke for air after five minutes or so and grinned at each other.

"Wow," I said reaching for my glass.

"Definitely." As mum sat back with her drink she took my hand. "But Andrew... We have to talk."

My heart sank. Talking wasn't what I'd been hoping for. "Ok."

"You're a young man..." She squeezed my hand. "...And like all young men your hormones run pretty hot, as we've seen." I blushed at that but Mum continued. "In the last few hours our relationship has had a few shocks and some things have changed. Earlier today I let things go much further than I should have. It was getting pretty serious. You realise that, surely?"

I nodded.

"Andrew, my mind is spinning. I fear for the consequences of how we've become. I fear that I'm leading you on and that all this will mess up your head and your life."

"Mum, I'm young but I know my mind. I'm in love with you and that's never going to change. I don't see that there have to be bad consequences. We can love each other without hurting anyone else - without anyone else knowing. I'm certainly not going to tell anyone and risk what I have with you... What I hope I have with you, I mean."

Mum drained her glass and put it on the table. "I meant what I said earlier. I am in love with you too." She took my face in her hands. I put down my glass. "But I had to tell you what scares me. I have to give you the chance to go back to a normal life with a loving - but normal - mother rather than a mad woman who should know better.

She hesitated for some time then, "If we don't stop this now... Andrew, I won't be able to stop."

"I don't want to stop, Mum. I don't want you to stop. Whatever happens I'm going to love you, but I'm going to be careful that nothing happens to spoil it. If we have to have a secret life then that's what I want. I just want to be with you. and to be honest about how I feel about you. I couldn't live pretending things were different. It would break my heart every time I looked at you. Mum, I..." I ran out of words so I kissed her.

It was a kiss that sealed our fate, whatever that would be. In its desperation I could feel that neither of us would be able to back out. There could be no more debate or soul searching. With that kiss we committed to our love and to our passion. We almost devoured each other and when our lips parted both our faces were wet from a mixture of saliva and my mother's tears. We kissed and cuddled for a while and each of us must have said 'I love you' fifty times. Eventually pounding hearts began to calm. We had accepted what neither of us could fight and that removed a weight from my soul that I hadn't even known was pressing down upon me. I think Mum felt the same.

Between us we finished the wine.

"Mum?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Would you sit on my lap? I love it when you sit there and kiss me."

She didn't waste any time. Seconds after I spoke my mum plonked her bottom down on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Ok then, lover boy... Kiss me." And kiss her I did.

"I think this is my favourite way to sit," I smiled.

"Nothing to do with the fact that it brings my boobs closer, I suppose," she giggled.

I hadn't been thinking of that particular aspect. I was still in a bit of an emotional daze, but... "Now you come to mention it, hell yes." I gazed at the bulging front of her blouse. "Oh Jesus, mum."

"I'm sorry your fun got spoiled earlier," she said, kissing my cheek and then my mouth. "This time, just relax." She leaned back against the arm of the sofa and thrust her breasts out. "Help yourself, greedy boy," she smiled and then shut her eyes.

With mum's eyes shut I was able to stare at her boobs unselfconsciously and they were amazing. One of my arms was around the back of Mum's waist as she sat sideways on my lap, but my free hand reached up to squeeze one of her big tits through her blouse.

"Just a moment," she said and slid off my lap. She turned to face me and then straddled me placing her knees on either side of my thighs. Once again, she leaned back a little, thrusting her breasts forward. "Now you can use both hands," she smiled.

"Oh my God!" I filled my hands with them, once again noticing the hard points of her nipples as they poked into my palms through the material. I squeezed and rubbed them. I bounced them, fascinated by the way they moved. That made her laugh.

"Sorry," I said, a little embarrassed.

"Don't be, honey," Mum replied with a smile. "I love it that you are so impressed by my tits. At my age that's a real ego boost. You can play with them and bounce them just as much as you like."

I groaned, reached up to push her boobs together and then buried my face between them. She giggled again and wrapped her arms around my head, holding my face to her bosom. When she let me go we snogged some more.

"Want to try again?" she asked.

"Want to try what?"

She didn't speak, but she reached up to undo a button on her blouse then dropped her hands to her sides and waited. With trembling fingers I undid the rest of the buttons and then slid the blouse from her shoulders. She shrugged it off and let it fall to the the floor behind her. For a few minutes I played with her tits through the pretty bra, squeezing and kneading them and kissing the upper slopes. Then I started to bounce them again, trying to see if I