4 comments/ 33099 views/ 1 favorites Autobiography By: CourtStJester Many of you have written asking about me and my background (including sexual experiences) although I cannot understand why you would think them to be interesting. Maybe you would like to analyze my background to see why I write about the things I do. Maybe you are just curious. OK, this is my story. I only had one homosexual experience before I became what I considered to be bisexual. From that experience until I was 38, I lived a straight (albeit mildly curious) life. What I will write about here is my first experience and later I will follow up with what happened 20 years later. Since this happened 40 years ago, forgive the addition of details that may or may not be accurate but don't detract from what actually happened. I grew up in the Midwest about a two-hour drive from the closest big city. I was the smallest boy in my class and considered a nerd (we weren't "geeks" back then) and was very naïve. I was a good Catholic (and, no, my first experience did not involve anyone in the church) and an altar boy until I was 17. Sexually I was about as uninformed as you could get. Dad had died when I was 9 and mom had avoided the "birds and bees" talk. The sexual revolution may have started in the '60's, but it hadn't reached our town (don't think it has even today). My friends and I were more interested in sports than girls and never did more than hide behind the shed with a copy of Playboy. About that same time my best friend's cousin came to live with him. His real name was Roger but we called him SB for "surfer boy". Roger had lived in San Diego and his parents had sent him to live with his aunt in the Midwest, although we never knew why. Someone said that he got a girl pregnant or was caught trying to. What ever reason Roger, at the age of 23, was sent packing and landed five houses away. Roger was an instant hit. He was from the big city and had a big city feel. He was cooler than anyone else in the neighborhood. He dressed great, was as handsome as a movie star and in great physical shape. All the guys liked him because he was a good athlete. The girls loved him, although when I think back I cannot remember him ever dating any of them. Rather, he would go out with a pack of them like he was one of them. Most of us did not have "gay-dar" in our town so this, too, went over my head. When my 18th birthday approached, Roger offered to take me to the "big city" to buy clothes as my present. He asked my mother (yes, I needed mom's permission even at 18) if it would be all right to take me in on Saturday and come home Sunday. I guess mom's "gay-dar" was working and she suggested a day trip. So on Saturday, an oppressively hot day in August and which was actually the day after my birthday, we boarded a train at 7:00 a.m. and headed for the "big city". We arrived at our destination around 10:00 and started our shopping spree. Shirts, pants, suit jacket, underwear and not the stuff that moms buy. This stuff was cool. It was hip. It was way out of my league. At about 1:00, Roger decided that it was time for lunch. This was also his treat and he took me to a nice restaurant. Since the drinking age was 21, I ordered a Coke and a burger and he ordered a steak and a rum and Coke ("Make it strong" he added). When the drinks came, he poured the two together making two decent rum and Cokes. "This is a special day," he said clinking his glass against mine. "Today you are a man." I was pretty proud of myself. Roger had taken me under his wing and wanted me to look good. He was even letting me drink, although I asked him not to tell my mother. We continued eating and all the while he explained what silverware to use and where to place the napkin. Boy, did he know a lot of stuff. I was impressed with him, almost to the point of having a crush on him. Roger ordered another couple of drinks and remixed them again. By the end of lunch I had a little buzz on. We were planning to do more shopping, but Roger suggested something else. "I have a friend who works at a hotel down the street," he said. "He can let us use a room where we can try this stuff on. That way if we don't like it or it doesn't fit, we don't have to come all the way back to the city to exchange them." That made plenty of sense to me. Roger paid the check (WOW, he spent $40 for lunch for me.) and we headed down the street with our packages. On the way, we made a stop at a liquor store where Roger bought a bottle of rum and some Coke "for later". When we got to the hotel, Roger suggested that I wait in the lobby and he would "see if his friend was working." That was fine with me since the hotel was air-conditioned and I remember the day as being one of the hottest ever. I watched him walk over to the registration desk and chat with the clerk behind the desk. After some pleasantries, he handed Roger a key and he headed back to me. "Was that your friend?" I asked. "What friend?" he said looking at me like I had two heads. Then he quickly added, "Oh, yeah, that was him." We headed for the elevator, climbed in and rode up to the floor the room was on. I think it was the 10th floor and remember thinking "Wow, this building is HUGE!" We got off the elevator and walked to our room, which Roger opened with the key. Roger laid all of the clothes that he had bought for me and himself on one of the beds. "Why don't you go take a shower," he said pointing to the bathroom. "If we need to return these we don't want them to be all sweaty." "That makes sense," I said to him, "but I didn't bring a towel or any soap." (Can you tell this was my first time out of my little town yet?) He took my hand, led me into the bathroom and pointed to the various items that any well-stocked bathroom would have. "When you finish, just wrap a towel around yourself and come out and we will try on these clothes," he said leaving me in the bathroom. When I had finished, I did as I was told and walked back into the bedroom. Roger was sitting watching the television. "That was fast," he said. Then turning to the TV he said "Twins and White Sox, who do you like?" "Gotta like the Sox," I said. "Well, go ahead and watch the game," he said as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I'm going to take a quick shower. I mixed another drink for you." With that, he pulled off his shirt, pulled down his pants and headed bare-ass towards the bathroom. Now, I had seen naked boys in the showers at school, but three things hit me immediately. First, Roger wore no underwear. Everyone wore underwear, usually the white brief kind. But Roger had nothing on under his pants. The second thing was his tan. Being from San Diego you would expect him to have a tan and he did. The difference was that he had it all over his body. At summer's end when the boys were showering in the school gym, everyone had a tan either from playing ball all day or working in the fields. But we all had big ol' white butts. But not Roger. You could not tell the difference in tan from his shoulders to his butt. Finally, I was surprised at the size of his penis. All of us kids in school had about the same size penis. It was the standard issue two- to three- inch variety that when excited got to five, maybe six inches. Roger's penis was easily six inches just hanging between his legs from a patch of dark pubic hair. So, without another word, Roger left me sitting in the bedroom, sipping my rum and Coke and pondering how they do things out in San Diego. In a few minutes Roger came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around him. "Can I ask you a question?" I asked. "Sure" Roger replied shutting the TV off. "Well… how come you don't wear underwear?" "Why should I?" Roger replied. "Is there a law saying that all men must wear underwear?" I chuckled, realizing that it had probably been a stupid question anyway. "It's just more comfortable, that's why." Roger continued. "A lot of people don't wear underwear, well, at least in California." "Can I ask you another question," I said hesitantly knowing this one could be more stupid than the first. "Why isn't your butt white like everyone else's? It's all tanned like the rest of you." "Well," Roger explained, "there are beaches around San Diego where you can take all of your clothes off and no one minds. That way you get that 'all over' tan." "Even girls?" I asked incredulously. "Girls, guys," he continued. "No one cares. You know, there are a lot of things that we do in California that people don't do elsewhere." "Oh," was all that came out of my mouth. My thoughts went back to the shed and the Playboy magazine. Women like that walking around with no clothes on, right in front of you. It would be like heaven. When I came back to reality, I thought about my last question and started to ask it. "Why is your…. Never mind" I had thought better of asking even though the rum had lowered my inhibitions. Roger walked over to the bed and sat next to me. "What is it you wanted to ask," he said looking me right n the eyes. "I… I… I wanted to know why your wiener is so long." There, I had said it. It was none of my business but I asked anyway. And not only that, after being treated so nicely by a really cool guy, I called his penis a 'wiener'. I turned red with embarrassment. Roger picked up on it immediately. "That's OK," he said. "I'm sure it's not the first 'wiener' you've seen." The way he said 'wiener' made me laugh and put me a little more at ease. "Everyone's different," he said. "Some people are bigger, some smaller. How big is yours?" I looked down and for the first time realized that the thoughts of Playboy and naked girls strolling past me on the beach had given me an erection. "Oh," Roger said with a smile. "Your's is pretty big, too." "Mine's really smaller, it just that I… er… well, you know." "Sure I do." With that, he unwrapped his towel and reached for his penis. Slowly he stroked up and down its length until it started to stiffen and stick out from his body. "There," he said looking at it proudly. "That's what happens when I get stiff. Now there's nothing to be embarrassed about, is there?" I guess there wasn't. I was fascinated watching him stroke his ever-lengthening member and by doing so my own penis hardened even more. "Well, let me see yours," he said feigning impatience. I don't know if it was the rum or whether I admired him so much that I would do anything for him, but I pulled back the towel and exposed myself to Roger. "Very nice," he said. "Nothing to be embarrassed about." I still had not taken my eyes off his swollen organ and had become more fascinated with it. The head had blossomed like a mushroom and the sides ran with thick veins. The shaft disappeared into a thick bush of pubic hair and his scrotum hung loosely below. Roger watched me watch his hand. Although I had said nothing for about 15 seconds, it seemed like an eternity. Finally with a hushed, almost breathless voice, Roger broke the silence. "Do you want to touch it?" "I don't want to be called a 'fag'" I replied. (Apologies to my gay friends, it was the vernacular at the time.) "You wont. Like I said, we do a lot of things in California that aren't done out here. Do you want to?" he asked again. I did not answer. I had a buzz going from finishing my third rum and Coke and just stared rudely at his penis. Without another word, Roger took my hand, moved it to his penis, wrapped my fingers around it and guided my hand up and down his shaft. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" he asked quietly. All I could do is nod. He reached over and wrapped two fingers around my own hard penis and stroked it slowly. I closed my eyes and the two of us stroked each other without a word spoken. The air conditioner hummed in the background bathing us in cool air, but it still felt like I was on fire. I felt him lean over and his lips brushed against mine. I knew I should have said something, done something, anything, but I didn't and my lack of reaction signaled Roger that I had not minded his advances. He leaned over again and placed his lips on mine this time lingering and gently sucking my lip into his mouth. Then, he moved and placed a kiss on my cheek, on my neck and finally in my ear where he whispered "You feel good." Again, I did not, could not, answer. My heart raced in my chest and my head spun between lust and sensibility. Never having experienced the first, the second had little or no chance. My hand was on autopilot, moving up and down his shaft, feeling every bump, ridge and vein ending either in his bush or at the head of his penis. He whispered again into my ear. "Tell me if you want me to stop." I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Nothing came out because I didn't know what I wanted to say. Roger's lips traced back down my neck and across my chest, lingering at my nipple. He sucked on it and lightly bit at it creating goose bumps all over my body. Lower he slid until his head was right over my penis which he still held in his hand. The next thing I felt was his tongue on the tip of my penis. I had been aware of my pre-cum bubbling up from inside me. As Roger's fingers had reached the top of my shaft, they would wipe the pre-cum off the top and bring it back down my shaft. Now, his tongue was licking the droplets off the tip. As he lowered his head on to the shaft, he slid off the bed and his penis fell from my hand. I wanted to reach down and hold it again but before I could his mouth enveloped my organ. My hands went to his head and held it, not sure if I wanted him to continue, not sure if he had to stop. Be he did continue and started sucking the head of my penis and then sliding the entire organ into his mouth. He buried his face in my pubic hair and then slid back up the shaft only leaving the head in his mouth. Then without pause, his mouth slid back down and my penis disappeared into his mouth. Roger continued this for what was probably five minutes, but it seemed like five seconds. When he stopped he lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. He could tell that there was something between us. It was probably just lust, but it was there. He brought his lips back to mine and kissed me gently. "Would you do that for me?" he asked. I nodded. No words were spoken for I could not speak. He simply stood up in front of me with his penis hanging in front of me. It seemed so strange to me, so foreign. It was something that I had never done yet seemed so natural. I leaned forward and took him in my mouth. There was no taste, no smell save for perfumed hotel soap. Roger took my head in his hands and guided me up and down his shaft. At first, I just opened my mouth and let his penis slide in and out but after a few minutes I wrapped my lips around his shaft and formed an oral pussy for him. He slid his penis back and forth careful not to push too far into my throat. To be sure, he took my hand and wrapped it around his shaft so that the back and forth motion included a hand job also. Without warning he tensed, pumped a couple of times more and shot his sperm into my mouth. I had tasted my own on occasion and was not put off by his action. For some probably perverse reason, I was proud that I had helped him cum. Roger dropped to his knees, took my face in his hands and kissed me deep on the lips. His tongue twirled around the saliva and cum in my mouth and then he again took me in his mouth. With the skill of an expert, he gave me a blowjob that to this day had never been equaled. Maybe because it was my first. Maybe because it was him. But for whatever reason, I exploded into his mouth and had an orgasm that I will never forget. We lay back on the bed knowing that we had hours before we needed to catch the train. For an hour we lay together with the only movement being my hand stroking his penis. We blew each other again before we packed up and headed for the train station. We rode back on the train in silence, rode home in his car and when he dropped me off he simply said "Happy Birthday." Six days later he was headed back to San Diego and for 30 years the memory of that birthday gift stayed with me as my sole homosexual experience. Fast forward twenty years. When I was 18, I had been seduced into performing oral sex on a friend and it stayed with me as a ghost or a treasure depending on how you view it. I did not consider myself gay or bisexual. If you jump out of a plane once you don't consider yourself a skydiver. If you hunted once and liked it but never did it again, you were not a hunter. Neither was I gay or bisexual. To the contrary, I had several girlfriends and was finally married at 25. I produced a daughter who, knock on wood, is well adjusted and smart. But after 12 years, the marriage sort of disintegrated when my wife found someone she liked better. She liked him better because he was around, unlike me whose job kept me on the road sometimes weeks at a time. So, at 37 I was free to play the field and managed to have a couple of brief relationships with women my age. They were looking for someone to be more committed; I was looking to get laid so it was not a good fit. So, here I am a year later at 38 sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Washington DC. It is a nice hotel that caters to both tourists and business travelers, me being the later. The manager puts on an "open house" where from 5:00 to 7:00, drinks are free. Of course the beer does not have a "born on" date since if it did it would be collecting social security and the mixed drinks are, well, drinks only in name. I got there at 6:00 and the place was already jumping. OK, it wasn't jumping, just packed with the "free booze" crowd. I grabbed a beer and scouted out a table in the smoking section and managed to grab the last one. It had four seats and I am sure it would have been nice for a party of four to use it, but first come first served. I opened my planner and started reviewing my itinerary for the next day when a man and woman came over to my table. "Would you mind if we joined you?" the man asked. "There doesn't seem to be any smoking tables left." Knowing how much I enjoyed a cigarette with a cold beer (even a stale one) and not wanting to rob anyone of that simple pleasure, I simply pointed to the chairs and said "Not at all." They turned out to be Rob and his wife, Liz. Rob was about 50, maybe a little older. He was almost completely bald but still fairly handsome and in good shape. Liz's face put her at early 40's but possibly more. Her body was tight and thin and could have passed as being that of someone 10 years younger. I simply introduced myself as Bill Walters and we chatted for a while about why we were in town and what our plans were. They were staying at the hotel also. As we got close to finishing our drinks, Liz turned to Rob and said, "Honey, why don't you get us some more drinks." Rob excused himself and left me alone with Liz, who leaned over the table and started speaking quietly so as not to be overhead by neighboring tables. "Bill, do you like excitement?" she asked. "Yeah, I guess so," I answered, not sure where this was headed. "Bill, Rob and I saw you sitting here and were hoping that you might be interested in something." Without waiting for an answer she continued. "Bill, I like to watch Rob suck on another man's cock and to get fucked up the ass. We were hoping that you could be the 'other man' tonight." You could have knocked me over with a feather. Here I am sitting nursing a cold beer minding my own business when I get a proposition like that. When I had regained some composure I looked back across the table at Liz. "I don't mind getting sucked on by a guy," I said making it sound like it was an everyday occurrence, " but I don't think I would go as far as fucking him. And I certainly don't want to suck him or have him fuck me." Autobiography Liz put up her hands defensively. "Absolutely not," she tried to reassure me. "We will do only what you want, as long as it includes getting a blow job from Rob." That didn't sound too bad. I thought again for a few seconds and then reached across the table to shake Liz's hand and close the deal. Rob was back in a few minutes with the drinks and Liz smiled up at him. "Bill has agreed to join us tonight," she explained to Rob. "Great," Rob said. "You know, not everyone is open minded and can deal with Liz and my quirks." "Well," I explained, "I'm game if you guys are." With that we grabbed our drinks and headed for their room. Once inside, Rob headed for the minibar and opened it up. "Enough of that crap they are serving downstairs," he said as he started pulling all sorts of liquor out of the small refrigerator. "We're having the good stuff tonight." We each broke open our favorite poison but for me we had reached an awkward point. Never having performed for someone or had someone watch, I was unsure of who took the next step. Liz must have sensed this as she put her drink down and started to unbutton. "Let's get comfortable," she said as she removed her blouse. Both Rob and I started getting undressed as Liz continued and soon Rob and I were naked and Liz was dressed only in her bra and panties. Rob was an average size guy with a cock that was long and thin. Liz had a tight body with very small breasts and nipples that poked against the sheer fabric of her bra. Liz walked over to me, turned and asked me to unclasp her bra. I did and put my hands on her shoulders to slip the straps off. Instead, Liz took my hands and brought them around to her front and placed them on her chest. Seductively she pressed my hands into her massaging them as my hands massaged her tits all the while watching the expression on Rob's face. Rob was clearly a 'watcher'. He sat in the chair in the bedroom and watched me fondle his wife while he stroked his cock which grew to about eight inches long and my own cock was responding and starting to swell between Liz's legs. She closed her legs and started sliding my cock between her thighs. Bill watched Liz and I grope each other for a minute and then walked over and knelt in front of his wife. My cock was sticking out between her legs and he started licking it and Liz's pussy. "That's it, baby, suck it good," she said as her husband covered my cock with his mouth. Rob had obviously done this before. His mouth worked on my cock like it was at home sliding up and down the part of the shaft he could reach, and when he wasn't sucking on me his tongue was working on Liz. "Let me stand behind you," Liz suggested and she stepped behind me giving Rob full access to my cock. He slid it deep into his mouth and started bobbing his head up and down. Liz had moved behind me and was grinding her pussy into my ass and encouraging me to fuck her husband. "He's a good cocksucker, isn't he?" she asked. "Don't you just love fucking his mouth? Wouldn't you like to fuck his ass, too?" I had to admit that I was starting to consider it. Seeing Rob kneeling in front of me with my cock in his mouth was a big turn on. I wondered what it would be like to slide my cock into his tight hole. Liz's hands meanwhile had slid down to my own ass and were kneading my cheeks. I felt her lips on my shoulder, then on my back and soon she was kneeling behind me rimming my asshole. It was a husband and wife tag team with Rob's tongue licking my cock and Liz's tongue working on my asshole. I had started to fuck Rob's face hard and Liz could not keep her mouth on my ass, but I felt her fingers starting to probe. First she slipped one and then two fingers into my saliva covered asshole and massaged my prostrate. I could feel my cock swelling and my asshole tighten around Liz's fingers. "Go ahead," Liz urged me. "Cum in his mouth." And that is what I did. My cock exploded in Rob's mouth shooting my load down his throat. He eagerly accepted it and sucked it down while nursing on my softening cock. Liz had pulled her fingers out of my ass and walked around in front of me. "I want some," she said and she took Rob's place and started sucking on my cock. Rob walked behind me and pressed against my back. "Did you like that?" he asked. I just nodded that I had. "Did you like having Liz finger fuck you?" "Yeah," I admitted, "it felt good." Rob slid his hands down to my butt, started rubbing my asshole and inserted a finger. I groaned at the pleasurable feeling of Liz's mouth and Rob's finger, which he started sliding in and out of my hole. My cock hardened in Liz's mouth more in response to what Rob was doing to me than Liz's efforts. Rob had slid two more fingers into my asshole and was stretching my hole to the limit I pushed back on his hand giving him more access. I felt Rob remove his fingers and could feel his breath on my ear. "I'm going to fuck you," he whispered and he positioned his cock at my asshole. Liz knew what he was doing and reached behind me and spread my ass check to give Rob a better shot at my hole. "Are you ready?" he asked. My head was spinning. Liz was driving my cock into her mouth and my ass felt empty since Rob pulled his fingers out of me. I nodded my head that I was ready and Rob pushed his cockhead against my hole and forced himself into me. I felt every inch of Rob's cock slide into my hole and he came to rest buried deep inside me. Liz reached around and grabbed him ass and pulled him in tighter, driving his cock further into me and my cock into her throat. Rob grabbed my hips and started pumping his cock in and out of my ass. I had never felt a sensation like this, alternating from a full feeling with pressure on my prostrate to an emptying sensation, only to be filled again. As he quickened his pace, the sensations merged into one tingling feeling through the lower half of my body and my cock started to pulse sending my load into Liz's mouth. Rob felt the tightening of my asshole around his cock and started to groan as he shot his cum deep into my bowels. As I regained my composure, I couldn't believe what had just happened. I went from being a straight guy for the past 20 years to getting fucked up the ass and I wondered why I had never tried it before. Before the night was over, I sucked on Rob's cock and fucked his ass while his wife watched and I enjoyed it more than if I had done Liz all night. My life had definitely changed. Autobiography of a Mother Fucker Authors note. The 'Incest' genre is new to me but having been asked to write a story I sat down and thought about where I actually stand on the issue. Whilst what follows is pure fiction, I've tried to write the story by putting myself into the main character's shoes and my mother into her character. My mother actually passed away in early 2000 and therefore I've tried to put the action into some chronological time frame. I expect a lot of flack to come back from this story. 'How could you defile your mother's memory in such a way?', etc, etc. My answer is this:- In hindsight, considering the lonely years that followed my father's death I really wish I had fucked her. She deserved some loving. Trouble was, I didn't consider it at the time. An autobiography of a Mother Fucker A short story by Jacques Boncoeur I suppose that considering this is a biography, I should introduce and tell you a bit about myself. I'm Shaun, I'm nearly 67 years old and I was born at the end of the 2nd World War. My father was a professional soldier and my mother had been evacuated from Singapore, when he was posted back to the UK just before it was overrun by the Japanese. I decided to pop into the world nearly a month overdue. I reckon secretly that I just never wanted to leave my mother beautiful body and considering what happened later it proved to be correct. My childhood was happy and absolutely nothing untoward happened sexually to me. I spent one week at boarding school but both myself and my mother hated being apart so much that I became a day border and then for the whole of my school years, I followed the family from one place to another, to all of my father's postings. I know that there are many quotations about travel but one that I think is true comes from Mark Twain, 'Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.' It was with this background that my perception of the world and my values was formed. I don't want to give the impression that I was a mummy's boy or like many stories I have read that I was fixated sexually by my mother. This just wasn't the case. I loved her, but then all kids love their mums, don't they? I can only remember one sexual situation or maybe asexual is a better word if you look at the situation closely, that occurred when I was eleven or twelve. I was sharing a room with my mum and dad, when we visited my maternal Grand-mother in Ireland one summer. Mum was undressing for bed when I saw her breasts. I can remember asking her, completely without embarrassment, what they were and when she explained. I asked if I could touch them and she allowed me. I don't know whether she was embarrassed, I certainly wasn't and I can't really remember my father's reaction. You must remember that this was the fifties and things that involved sex were very different then. Nothing was taught in schools, Mums and Dads didn't mention it. And, when you eventually started having sex, you learnt on the job, so to speak. From then on, sex and my mother featured in completely separate areas of my life. Like most boys in the fifties and sixties I stumbled from one sexual experience to another. Most of my early sexual episodes were rather disappointing but when you are groping about in the dark without a torch, things tend to be so. Gradually, my technique improved and I think a turning point for me, was when I suddenly realized that you got so much more from sex when you cared enough about your partner to ensure that she got as much from it as you. I'm pretty average I think. I've got a hard cock when it's aroused and even now in my sixties, it doesn't let me down. I'm sure that there are many bigger but I've never had a woman say that mine was too small to carry out the job it was meant for. I've always loved to fuck. I do admit that in some positions it does has a habit of slipping out at rather unfortunate times, especially when the action gets a bit too manic. But, on the whole my six inches has served me rather well and I'm not complaining. I suppose from a little research, I have ascertained that I do like and get a lot of sex. My first wife didn't really like it much until she found out that I was going or had been elsewhere. Then all of a sudden, she woke up to the competition. Unfortunately for her, by this time, she was too late and I had found someone who was equally as highly sexed as I was. Little did she know who it was? But this is getting ahead of my story. My sexual education continued throughout university but maybe because of our slapdash approach to sex, my girlfriend, soon to be my wife fell pregnant. Maybe she planned it, maybe not. Anyway, in those days a man fulfilled his responsibilities. My mum and dad were too polite to say so, to her face anyway but they loathed my new wife and it has to be accepted that she was more than a little to blame. She was a socialite and expected everyone to kowtow to her. Unfortunately, my family doesn't kowtow to anyone, therefore, our full family get-togethers were few and far between and I would regularly take my, soon to follow, children to visit, without my other half. Even at special events my wife would rudely destroy any efforts for us to get together. Consequently, all of us, my parents, my kids, my wife and me, began to drift apart from each other. It was at this time that my father was killed in Ireland, before the' troubles' began. Things in Ireland were beginning to turn sour but even though he was a high ranking officer in the British Army, he wasn't targeted as such. He was travelling in a helicopter that hit a hillside in the fog. Strangely, even though I hadn't been terribly close to my father, due I think because he had been away so often, I was as crushed by his death, as was my mother. He had always been so much larger than life and it seemed that he had always been there, even when he wasn't. And now, he never would be. That was a void hard to fill. It took me a year to get over it but time heals and I gradually pulled through. My wife, Sheila, didn't help me or my mother. She didn't even come to my father's funeral, begging a prior engagement. Little did she know that she was sowing the seed and nurturing the plant that would cause our final break? Not only did it push mum and I together but I suddenly found that at functions I had to take my father's place and mum was my partner. Nevertheless, mum took much longer to get over her grief and I could see her going into freefall. I was spurred to action. Maybe it's time to tell you a little more about mum. Unlike most of the stories presented in this genre, mum is not a blonde bombshell. She is attractive but in a classically 'mum' sort of way. Not in a 'big tits and blousy manner', sort of way. She was an Irish colleen, born in 1920 and had met and been wooed by my father when she went to work as a housemaid in his family's home. My father's family was protestant landed gentry. I should imagine that a match between a young, handsome subaltern from a rich titled family and a housemaid would have been frowned upon. But then my mother was just so perfectly nice and rounded in her ways, that it would be hard for anyone not to just fall in love with her. Not that the family did fall in love with her but that is another story, my father did and that's all that matters here. They married during my father's first leave in late 1939, when she was nearly 20 years old and he 23. He had been fortunate to be brought home before the main evacuation of Dunkirk following a bullet wound he received during the retreat. It took several months for him to recover in hospital but when he returned home, he demanded that mum marry him immediately. I haven't a clue what their sex life was like but my mum followed the mould in some ways. She had flaming red hair which just didn't seem to go with her quiet nature but as I was to find out, this merely disguised the furnace that filled her heart and her cunt. I didn't come along until four years later, conceived during another wartime leave, I figure. At the time of my father's death, she was as trim and attractive as she had been when she married. I think even more so, looking at the old photos, as the style of clothing then did little to stir faith in a fashion industry and swimming costumes were functional rather than sexy. Within a year of my father's passing, despite my attention, she had begun to let herself go and this was partly the cause of my thoughts and actions. Goodness me, I haven't even told you her name, Molly. Whilst I had followed another career path than my father, I was very much the action man. I had taken an academic path and was now beginning what was to become a distinguished research career in embryology, which was in its infancy at this time. You could say that I had got in on the birth. Although my sort of action didn't include fighting or espionage, I thought and planned most of the things that came before me meticulously. The issue with my mother was to become my new quest in life. It was clear to see that somehow she had to fill the void that my father had left, and fill it fast. When I questioned her she outright said that she didn't want and couldn't bear the thought of being with another man but it was also clear to see that sex was part of the issue. She was fanciable, crumbs, I fancied her myself. Then the bombshell hit, I realized that I really did fancy her. At first this caused me some problems. But, as I said, I'm a thinker as well as an action man and when I looked at it rationally; my perceived problems were simply superfluous. I had long since ceased to believe in a God or Religion, so there didn't seem to be a barrier for me morally. When I looked at the question with regard to the 'law', this was even less of a concern. Having dealt with the law in relations to me research, I basically thought that the law was an 'Ass' and just a means of state control. I had already had a vasectomy so we couldn't conceive a child, so even the biological barriers, fell. All of a sudden I realized that what my mother needed more than anything in the world was to be fucked by someone that really cared for her. And, I realized that I wanted that person to be me. I'm not a devious person and I knew that I would be unable to carry through any type of ruse that might lead me to my goal. So I adopted a straightforward approach. I called her and asked that she get dressed up that evening as I needed her to be my partner at a dinner dance function. This was my one untruth, we were going to dine and dance but not at a function. I had somehow to persuade her to become my lover and knowing that she would not want to cause me problems, knowing my wife wasn't interested in my career or in fact anything where she wasn't the centre of attention, my mother agreed to accompany me. Dressed to the nines and in the middle of a few hundred people, I knew that what I was going to say would not receive a fight/flight reaction, mum just wasn't like that. If I dealt with it properly she would hear me out quietly and then come to a rational decision, even if it was conventionally, a rather irrational issue. She looked around at the other diners in this very up market restaurant but, before she could say anything, I butted in, "I'm sorry about the subterfuge but I needed to talk to you about something really important and I wanted to say it in a place with the right ambience." I paused and then dived in. "You know I love you, don't you?" She nodded, so I continued. "Mum, I'm getting really concerned about you and I know that you won't call on me to help, so I'm going to say and propose something that you may consider really inappropriate. I'm going to say it anyway and all I ask is that you hear me out before making any sort of decision or before leaving. After due consideration, if you don't like or want what I propose I promise you that it will not damage our relationship. I love you and I always will, I promise." She looked really worried but she nodded again, so I continued, this time with a nervous quiver to my voice. "Mum, you are the loveliest person I know. You have a great personality. You are vivacious. You have a great body. Mum, you need to finally get over your loss of Dad, before you lose some of the light than shows in the things you do and the way you are." I hesitated and took a huge gulp of air before I continued. "Mum, you need to be fucked." She reacted with a start at these words. In our family we just didn't speak like this but before she could say anything I continued in a whisper, that only she could hear. "Mum, please don't react to this, off beam. I don't want you go to any Tom, Dick or Harry. I want you, I want you, Oh fuck it, that's it, I want, you! I want to be the person that fucks you, I want to suck your tits and cunt. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. Let's admit it, we are hardly conventional. Will you please think about what I've said whilst we eat our dinner. Then, at least talk to me about it, even if you find it hard to consider?" She had an unfathomable look as she considered what I had said and several seconds passed before she replied. When she did I was a little taken back at her reply and especially her language. "How the fuck do you expect me to eat, after dropping that on my lap? No, take me home. I'm not upset and I will think about what you have said but dinner and dancing is out of the question, my tummy is full of butterflies. Please take me home." It was with a bit of embarrassment when we left the table without ordering, especially as I nearly forgot to pay for the drinks we'd consumed at the cocktail bar. But, leave we did. Silence ensued on the taxi ride home. I hadn't taken the car, because as courageous as I was, I had resorted to a few glasses of 'dutch courage' before picking her up. When we arrived home, I led the way into the lounge and immediately poured two stiff drinks. I'm not sure who was shaking most, her or me. Neither of us needed a cocktail shaker, of that I'm sure. My drink was mixed in seconds and as I passed her glass, the shaking hand that received it confirmed that hers would soon become well mixed. She seemed to compose herself, sat upright and drew her lovely long legs together. "I'm sorry Shaun; I need to get something clear. Did you just tell me that you wanted to fuck me? And that you wanted to spend the rest of our lives together?" I almost choked. How do you reply to that? "Err, yes I suppose I did. Yes, fuck it, I did. Yes, I want to fuck you. I want to suck your tits and lick your cunt. I want you to suck my cock until its fit to burst and I want to fill you full of hot spunk. Mouth, cunt and arse. I didn't realize it until Dad died but yes, that's what I want." How I'd managed to get it out I don't know but, out it was, and it was followed by what seemed like a year of silence but of course, was only a few seconds. "I see. What about your wife? Won't she have something to say about this?" I was stunned. Mum hadn't clobbered me. She was actually considering my proposition and looking at pitfalls. "I applied for a divorce, yesterday. No matter what you were going to say, I was divorcing her. She doesn't want me anyway and I'm sure she has found someone much more fun than me. She only fucks me because I'm an adequate lover and I make her climax a lot. Otherwise she has no use for me. I want you mum, I'm sorry if it shocks you but I've realized that I've fancied you for years. It was only Dad and convention that kept me from realizing it." She seemed to be pondering on it when suddenly she rose from the chair and said, "Well, I suppose we had better start in the bedroom then, it's more comfortable there and as I haven't been fucked for ages I want to try every position possible. I also want to be fucked every day in a different room, including the kitchens, toilets, laundry room, all of the walk in cupboards, the garage, shed, the gazebo, the stables, all of the living rooms, the loft and basement. You've got your work cut out son. I'm a horny woman and I need lots of satisfaction." That first time, I don't remember our clothes coming off. I was in a daze. I do remember the half hour I sucked her glorious tits. The tits I hadn't sucked for so many years. Her nipples were sore by the time she had had her trillionth orgasm, or so it seemed, as she was thrashing around the bed. Then, she had a million or so more, as I sucked on her beautiful ginger gash. Her juices poured from her. I actually stopped so we could place a bath towel under her just to soak the juice up that I couldn't swallow and also to give her a drink as I was sure that at any minute she would have run dry. Bear in mind, at this point I was 23 years old and she was 46. Current research said that we were both at our peak of sexual endurance. I had played with her body for over an hour before I put my cock in her sodden cunt. I wasn't entirely sure that she was still conscious. I pulled her legs over my shoulders. If it was comfortable I didn't know, or to be honest care. I admit it took me less than a minute of frantic thrusting before I unloaded and filled her already dripping cunt. I'm an embryologist, and I know that men don't generally eject more than a spoonful of sperm but I've seen donors give up to half a cupful if they haven't ejaculated for several days. I had been so worried about her and our situation, that I hadn't cum for over a fortnight. It certainly felt like I'd come a bucket full. It was not to be my last ejaculation that evening. An hour later she was on her knees with a pillow stuffed in her mouth to stop her screams. It took me nearly half an hour of pounding into her before I filled her once again and nearly fainted with the exhaustion. I'm not sure how long we slept but around mid-night she sucked my cock back to full erection and asked me to take her anal cherry. She even handed me the Vaseline. Who was I to argue? Even though I was very careful and took it in stages, one then two fingers. Using copious amounts of lubricant, it took over an hour for me to eventually gain entry with my cock. After a few minutes, I knew that I wasn't really enjoying the sensation. She was just too tight. I know it's hard to believe but I stopped asked her what she was getting from it and we discussed it and decided that it wasn't our thing. I washed us both really carefully and she gave me head. Certainly my first time to full ejaculation and when she swallowed the little cum I had left she told me that this was her first time of swallowing to. I think that one of the finest things that had ever happened to me was when I woke in the morning and she was cuddled up beside me. I felt like crying, I was just so happy. She looked absolutely radiant. I must be honest and admit that no sex occurred that first full day together. We were both to sore. Needless to say, over the next year I fucked her on every piece of furniture, every appliance, in every room of the house and garden. I even fucked her over the garden fence. In and beside the stream at the bottom of the garden. I also have to admit that I did more than commit the crime of incest. I began to long for us to have our own child. Sheila and I had divorced as soon as possible and she had taken our children just to spite me. She married a guy from Florida and took the kids with them. I got to see them two or three times a year when I had them fly home to be with me and mum but I felt that we both needed more. Bear in mind I was a research embryologist. I was before the days of test tube babies but we knew the technique. The problem was that my university research regulations forbade going the final step and actually allowing someone to give birth. Artificial insemination was a bit hit and miss but we did consider it and I could easily get the sperm and inject it into her. Autobiography of a Mother Fucker We discussed it and I asked if she would agree to have the first child that would be born using in vitro fertilization. My sperm was useless. I had investigated whether the vasectomy could be reversed and it was not possible. But, a brilliant young research assistant was also one of our donors. Also, a good surgeon colleague and friend of mine, who harvested the eggs that we used for research, agreed to take one of my mother's eggs, allow me to fertilize it with my assistant's sperm whilst mum was still on the operating table and within minutes he had replaced it. A month later we knew she was pregnant and nine months later almost on her 45th birthday she gave birth to a beautiful ginger haired daughter. We were both over the moon. Of course, no-one ever knew what we had done and another facility, whose regulations allowed, became the first to be able to make the claim to have delivered the first test tube baby. We didn't care, we had 'Milie'. No-one can claim, or relatively few can claim to have lived happily ever after. Our life certainly had its ups and downs. Mum and Dad had bought their house on his return from the war and other than the couple of years of my marriage I had lived all of my life there. This of course led to complications, especially from my mother's more matronly friends that didn't like the thought of the 'Colonel's' widow suddenly gaining weight and then a few months later pushing a pram around. What can I say, we got over it. Real friends stay the course without having to know the whole truth. I let it be known that the child wasn't mine, (true) but that I was adopting her and if anyone even hinted that she wasn't my daughter, they would be instantly removed from the Christmas card list. The ultimate disgrace. We never lied to Millie; we never really had a situation that required it. Molly and I behaved like a mum and dad do. As she got older and she could understand more, we told her more. If she asked, we never dodged the questions. Millie knew Molly and I were lovers. When she was eighteen, she outright asked if she could come into our bedroom and watch us make love. I think I was a little embarrassed and maybe even Molly was more so but we had never hidden anything. We sat down and discussed it. I asked her why she wanted to be there. Her reply was that she had kept her virginity because she had saved herself for me and mum. She had seen us both naked hundreds of time, as we had her, both in the house and in the pool and she loved our casual intimacy but she knew that we had sex when she wasn't there and she wanted to be part of that too. First though, she wanted to see and be a part of mum's and my loving. More she wanted to see mum being fucked. Not made love to but fucked. And, she wanted to kiss and such and finger and play with both of us whilst we did it. She wanted to be taught by people that loved her mentally how to love physically. She wanted to be made love to and then she wanted to be fucked. I looked at mum and asked what she thought. She replied, "I love both of you, I have nothing I want or need to hide. I have loved my son physically and loved every minute of it and I'm happy to love my daughter physically to. You have to make your own mind up Shaun but I can't see you denying Millie anything, so why fight it, if that is what she wants." That night Millie and I made love to mum. I wanted to kiss Millie in a sexual way but she said that tonight this was just for mum. First, I made love to mum. Later that evening she laid over the arm of our sofa and I fucked the arse off her. Having cum earlier, I was much better able to control my climax and it took me nearly an hour before I eventually came. Mum seemed to be in perpetual orgasm as I fucked and Millie fingered her nipples and clitoris. The next night the roles were reversed. We made love to Millie for nearly four hours. She lost her virginity just inside the first hour. I fucked her for well over an hour, stopping on several occasions as I wanted the sensations to last for all of us. Don't forget I was well into my forties and even though the evening was sexually charged, I'm human after all, and orgasms of that magnitude, didn't come that easy. Needless to say, with both mum and my ministrations Millie hardly spoke after I finally came in her for the last time that evening. When we had recovered our breath, all of us just slipped off to contented sleep. We had to buy a bigger bed, as for the next seven years we slept together and made love together. I impregnated Millie, just the once, in our first year as lovers and just before her twentieth birthday she gave birth to our son, Seamus. Mum asked to be left in peace on her seventieth birthday. She said she was sick of sex but even then on occasions when she wanted it, we had a love-in. In fact I fucked her for the last time just after mid-night on 1st January 2000 we all thought it would be a wonderful way to bring in the Millennium. Four days later in her 79th year, mum passed away in her sleep. I'm sure she was happy, when I took her a morning cuppa, she was lying peacefully with a smile on her face. She looked so totally composed that I had to touch her cold skin in order to realize that we would have to face the world without her from now on. I wanted to celebrate her life, be happy, but the thing I hated more than anything, was that I wasn't holding her, when she died, or, that my cock hadn't caused the smile on her face. Maybe the thought of it, had? In 2004, I had the joy of seeing young Seamus fuck his mother for the first time. He won't sleep in the same room as us, as he say's I snore but we still fuck his mum regularly together and we take it in turn to sleep with her. I quite like having a night to myself and Millie loves the multiple orgasms she receives from the pounding that Seamus gives her on their nights together. B'jesus can that boy fuck!!! Just as an aside, Millie quite likes anal, and Seamus is well pleased to give her that pleasure, so I have had the added experience of having my cock in Millie's cunt whilst Seamus fucks her bum. I have to tell you it's an experience that I'll never forget. So, for now, the story ends, even if it still continues. To long life!!