2 comments/ 82499 views/ 6 favorites Dear Mum By: parabolus Dear Mum It's hot as hell – I'm just wearing shorts, and the sweat is running off me. I'm thinking about an ice-cold beer – and you. I've been thinking about you all day. It started with a dream I had last night, about when we kissed goodbye at the airport. In the dream I was kissing you again, and the feel of your lips on mine was wonderful. It was like that at the airport – I tasted your lipstick, and holding you in my arms made me feel – well, let's say it produced quite a reaction! In fact, I often think about you, in all sorts of ways, the way you look, remembering some of our times together, and wishing I was with you again. It won't be too long before my next leave, but at the moment it seems like light-years away, and I miss you badly. Perhaps I shouldn't write to you like this, Mum, talking about kissing you and all that, but I've already had a couple of those beers, and perhaps I've got carried away. Sorry if I've embarrassed you, Mum – just tell me to stop, and I'll try to behave myself in future! All my love Harry Darling Your letter came as a complete surprise, but let me say at once that it didn't embarrass me! Quite the contrary – you thinking about kissing me was, well, exciting. I too remember our goodbye kiss, and yes, I noticed your 'reaction' – I felt it pressing against my tummy – it was a very thin dress I was wearing, with not much under it ...! I've just put on extra lipstick, and this is my lips pressed against the paper – I hope you can taste it! It would be wonderful if you were holding me in your arms, and 'reacting' appropriately! Perhaps it's my turn to hope that I'm not embarrassing you, darling, but I'm a woman, and you're a VERY attractive man! Tell me all the other things you think of involving Your VERY loving mother Mum, darling I'm so glad you weren't angry with me, and thank you, thank you, for the paper kiss. I held it to my lips, knowing that yours had touched it, and tasted that lovely lipstick of yours – even though I was getting it second-hand, it produced a strong reaction!!! You wanted me to tell you what else I'm thinking, so here goes! As I write, I'm looking at that photo of us taken on holiday, where we're wearing swimming things with our arms round each other's waists. I loved the feel of your warm body against me, and I'm glancing down at your glorious cleavage. That swimsuit of yours was very revealing! And I remember the other time we kissed properly, at Christmas under the mistletoe. It seemed to go on for a long time, but not long enough for me! You were wearing a red dress, quite short, low-cut and loose at the top, with a lacy red half-bra, and that displayed a lot of cleavage – and more - too. Tell me what you're wearing now, Mum – I'd like to visualise you when you're writing to me. Hope I haven't gone too far in talking about your body, but you did ask me to tell you what I'm thinking about! I love you Harry PS I think a lot about your legs, too! Hello, Darling! Your letter was wonderful! It made me feel funny – in the NICEST possible way, if you know what I mean! It's lovely to know that you think about my body and legs – tell me more, you know I'm very vain! It's my turn to think I might go a bit too far this time. I had a glass of wine, thinking about what I was going to write to you, and then another in the bath while I re-read your letter. It was lovely reading a letter from you with nothing on, knowing that you'd touched and held it ... You want to know what I'm wearing. When I got out of the bath and dried myself, I put on that old cotton dressing gown of mine, and that's all I'm wearing now. It's very loosely knotted, and I've crossed my legs and it's fallen away, baring my thighs completely. As for 'cleavage', the dressing gown is gaping apart above my waist, and looking down at myself I can see my navel, and practically everything else. I'm sitting at my dressing table, and I've just looked at my reflection, and pulled my dressing gown wide open and half off my shoulders, baring my breasts totally, wishing you could see them. My nipples got stiff just thinking about it ... does that shock you, dearest? You don't have to tell me you like looking at my breasts – I've caught you peeking often enough! Yes, I remember that photo, and when it was taken – I liked pressing against you, too! And the Christmas kiss – if I'd had a couple more glasses of wine, things might have got interesting! As it was, I was tempted to push my tongue in your mouth ... I will next time! I know I shouldn't say this, but if you'd said anything, or put your hand down (or up) my dress, you could have had me right there, on the floor if you'd wanted! Are you shocked? I often wished that you'd take the lead and do something, but you never did, and I was afraid to make the first move in case it upset you, but now you've done it by writing to me like that, saying you want to kiss me and talking about my body. Speaking of memories, let me tell you something you've certainly forgotten, and nobody else in the world knows. You always loved my breasts, even when you were little. I loved feeding you, it gave me that 'funny' feeling I mentioned. In fact, I didn't wean you until you were about four, I loved it so much. I – we – liked it best when we had nothing on. Your eyes would light up when I undressed you, and you watched me take my clothes off, and then you sat on my lap and took my breast in both hands and started sucking me. You always got an erection! And I used to play with it gently while you sucked me. Afterwards, we'd take a nap together in bed, still with nothing on, and your naked body felt wonderful. Once, though, we were playing, and I was tickling you, and somehow you slid between my legs. As usual you had an erection, and – I put your stiff little dickie in me for a moment, although you didn't seem to notice! There! That's my confession! Are you shocked again, my darling? I am, a little, when I think about it, although I know I'd do it again! Your breathless, slightly drunk, funny-feeling, nearly naked Mother Dearest Mum, I can't tell you how much your letter thrilled me! I always loved that dressing gown – it's so thin that when the light is behind you your body is silhouetted perfectly, and I could see your nipples poking at the material. But to think of you sitting like that, with your legs completely uncovered, and your breasts bared nearly drove me insane! I feel that now we can tell each other everything, so I confess I read your letter lying on my bed naked, and I masturbated like mad! It wasn't the first time, of course – I've masturbated thinking about you hundreds of times. Anything would set me off – a quick glimpse of your bare thighs, or snatching a quick look at your breasts down your dress, or touching you 'accidentally' whenever I got the chance, and of course our occasional kisses. There were other times, too, thinking about you with men, and imagining what they were doing to you. At first I used to be angry and jealous when you went out with men, but in a way it was exciting too, and as I got older I accepted that you liked men, and sex, but I realised that it didn't mean anything much to you other than sex, and that you still loved me. That meant that I could think about them doing you without being jealous, except that I wished it was me, and I often wished that I could watch. I've just masturbated again, imagining the time you told me about when we were naked in bed together, with me inside you, even if I didn't realise what was happening at the time. I'd certainly know about it now, and so would you, my darling! God, just thinking about it ... It's funny, you wanted me to make the first move, and I was afraid that you'd be angry if I did anything – we've wasted a lot time, but perhaps we can make up for it??? It's funny too, that you wished I could see you the way you were in front of the mirror – I've often wanted to show myself to you. I loved it when you used to come in and chat to me when I was in the bath when I was a kid – it was nice being naked, and seeing you look at me. I'm naked now, and I'd love you to see me, and especially my erection! I'm going to do something about it again, thinking of you, as always Harry Oh, dearest! Your letter leaves me speechless! I saw the postman coming, and opened the door before he could pop it through the slot, and took it from him. All I had on was that dressing gown, and I remembered what you said about seeing my body through it when the light was behind me, and the sunlight was streaming through the hall window onto me from behind, and I gave him a good look! My hands were trembling when I saw there was a letter from you. I opened it still standing on the doorstep, giving anyone passing by a good look, too, and started to read it. But when I came to the bit about you masturbating naked on the bed, I came in and closed the door – my legs were shaking, and I had to lean against the wall, and then I put my hand between my legs as I read. Before I got very far, I was soaking wet – it was a good job I wasn't wearing any knickers, or I'd have had to change them – and then again, as I read on! Incidentally, I'm writing this at my dressing table again, but this time I'm completely naked, and sitting on a towel – I'm still dripping! Sorry if the writing is a bit wobbly, but I'm not holding the paper steady – my free hand is fondling my breasts, or between my legs. God, I'm wet! My fingers are soaked – I've licked them, because I like tasting myself, but now they're wet again – guess what I've just smeared across the paper!!! Can you taste me? I'd love you to drink me ... do you like oral sex, by the way? I don't think I told you – I sometimes used to kiss your dickie, and lick it, and take it in my mouth – I'd love to have it in my mouth now, as well as you know where. I read somewhere that male snakes have two penises – I wish you were a snake, darling, and then I could have the two of them in me, in a variety of orifices ... Yes, of course I loved seeing you naked – why else do you think I used to come in and perch on the side of the bath? You always got an erection, and I loved that. But I spoke to a man I slept with about it, and he said that boys always got erections, and I was disappointed, because I thought – hoped - it was for me. I used to leave the door open when I was having a bath, hoping you'd come in and talk to me (and look at me!) but you never did – sometimes I'd wait until the water was nearly cold, waiting just in case ... About men – we seem to have often been thinking the same things, because I often used to imagine you watching me having sex, although it made me feel guilty. But it gave me a lovely feeling, and I dreamt that after the man had had me, you would do me ... that made me feel even more guilty! Back to having your dick in my mouth – I can't stop imagining kneeling between you legs, sucking you, and making you come, drinking you dry ... I'd love to taste your semen. Darling, the next time you masturbate, will you come on the letter you write to me? I hope it doesn't sound kinky, but the thought of you spurting semen on the paper for me drives me crazy! Back to men. I often used to look in on you after I'd had sex, seeing at you sleeping. I wanted more than anything to take my clothes off and get into bed with you, holding you close, the only one I loved ... But I knew it wouldn't stop there, because I was still aroused, and I wanted you desperately. Once, the bedclothes were half off you, and I saw that you were holding your dick. Were you thinking about me having sex, I wondered? Just the idea made me go and finger myself ... which I'm still doing, darling. What else would you like me to tell you? I want to give myself to you completely, my body, my innermost secrets, anything and everything. I think of you coming home every day – and every night. I'll get plenty of everything in, so that we won't have to go out, and I'll be naked for you the whole time, and you can do anything and everything you want to The mother who's madly in love with you, darling PS These marks are made by putting lipstick on my nipples, and pressing them to the paper – I just wish you could lick it off in person! Mum What can I say? Your letter drove me mad, and all I can think about is you ... I have no words to describe my feelings. I had another dream about you last night – you had my cock between your breasts, and you were smiling up at me as you kneaded them around me, and I – fucked them, until I started to come, and you lowered your head and I shot my semen into your mouth ... My semen. I masturbated on the paper as you asked, but then I couldn't write on it, so I'm enclosing it with this. And now I'm going to masturbate over this as well. Tasting your lipstick again, and knowing it came from your nipples, was indescribable! My mind is full of you, seeing your face, your body ... I used to peek at you in the bath – your back was towards the door, and you couldn't see me. But once I glimpsed you getting out, your breasts swinging, and I saw the heavy bush between your thighs, water dripping from it. Oh, how I wish I'd had the courage to go in and see you properly! Yes, I like using my mouth, as you'll find out, my darling mother. Even though I see you in my imagination, I wish I had a picture of you – naked, I mean. You used to have some photos of you naked in your dressing table drawer, and I used to masturbate looking at them whenever you were out, but one day they weren't there any more. I'm naked, and my cock is throbbing, and I'm just about ready to come, so I hope you'll still be able to read this letter, what there is of it. More soon (more semen, too!) Harry Oh, my darling, my son, my lover! Yes, I tasted your semen, and it was wonderful! I rubbed your letter over my body, especially my breasts, and I pushed the other blank sheet into my vagina, wishing that it was your cock that had put it there! Now, I treasure it, because it has both our stuff on it! I kiss it constantly ... Dearest, I threw those photos away in case you found them and were shocked – I didn't know you'd already seen them. But, I know a man who has a Polaroid camera – he's already taken pictures of me for his own use, but I could ask him to take some more for me if you like. The only thing is, I'd probably have to let him do me – would you mind? I only wish you could see me naked yourself – but it won't be too long, will it, darling? I'm kissing your semen again, and again. Your darling, your lover, your mother Mum, my beautiful angel A quick note about the photos. No, of course I don't mind you having sex with him – I just wish I could watch, as we've discussed before. But will you please tell me what happens – every detail? EVERY detail!!! More semen for you, in case you've used up the last lot. Harry Dearest Well, here are the pictures! I hope you like them. You'll see that I'd shaved off that bush you liked – sometimes I like it, other times it's nice being naked down there. I'll let it grow if you want me to – we'll try both ways when you come home! I like the ones on the couch, where I'm touching myself (and thinking of you!), and the Sharon Stone pose from Basic Instincts, with my ankle crossed over my other knee giving you a perfect view of what's waiting for you! Also where I'm offering you my breasts, cupping them in my hands. Clive (he's the photographer) told me to play with my nipples to make them stiff, but they didn't need much coaxing! And he took the ones featuring my bottom – he asked me if you liked doing me up my backside, but I said we hadn't talked about it. Would you like to, darling? I like it, with the right man and the right cock – you're certainly the right man, and I'd love your dick up my bottom! And I'd brought along my dildo, and I asked him to take a picture of me using it for you ... Anyway, there are quite a few in all sorts of poses, and I hope they do all sorts of things for you – they did me, thinking about you looking at them! This looks like being a long letter – you wanted me to tell you everything that happened, so here goes. I met Clive with some friends some time ago – he's quite thin, with receding hair, but a lovely penis! He's also got a good sense of humour, and I like him, but I DON'T love him – there's never been anything on an emotional level between us, just friendship and sex, in case you're worried. Anyway, he asked me if I'd ever posed nude, and I said yes, and that I'd liked it, and he asked me if he could photograph me like that, and I said yes again. He's got a studio set-up in one room of his flat, and I went there the next day. There's a lot of flash equipment, and his camera, I think it's a Bronica, has a Polaroid back. I undressed for him, and we spent a couple of hours taking pictures – I loved him looking at my body, and he touched me a lot, posing me, and then, well, we had sex on the couch. It was very good, and we meet several times for the next few weeks, taking pictures or just having sex. He had a lot of stamina, and could come five or six times without difficulty, although after two or three times it took him longer, which was even better! But then we drifted apart – I took up with a black man as a lover, who was very jealous, and Clive met a couple of teen-age girls, sisters, who he said were fantastic in bed, and we lost touch. Anyway, I phoned him up, and said my lover (that's you!) was working in the Middle East, and wanted some pictures of me naked, and would he take some for me. He said there'd be quite a price – me – and I said I'd be glad to pay, because my lover wasn't jealous. So, we met yesterday evening at an Italian restaurant he knows for a meal before getting to work(!) Clive wore a check shirt with a corduroy jacket and jeans (you said you wanted all the details, darling!) and I wore that red dress you mentioned, the one I wore at Christmas that shows my cleavage, and I bought some matching sandals, the ones I'm wearing in the pictures. I didn't wear a bra – Clive doesn't like them before taking pictures, because they leave marks. Without one, the dress really reveals my breasts, and I got a lot of appreciative looks. I wore panties, though – just a scrap of red gauze and a couple of ribbons, practically transparent, The waiter gave us fantastic service, because he was always hovering around looking down my dress, and Clive did his share of staring, too. I spent a lot of time leaning forward, resting my arms on the table, so the dress fell away from my body, showing my breasts almost completely, and when nobody was looking I lifted my dress and let Clive see my panties. He asked me about you (my lover) and I said you were wonderful, and that I still thought about the first time I had you inside me, and had your dick in my mouth (I didn't tell him you were my son, and that you were two or three years old at the time!). And I said that you came like a fountain!!! We chatted for a while, and then amazingly he started to talk about incest! The girls he sleeps with have a younger brother, and they both have sex with him, as well as each other, and he asked me if I ever thought about having sex with my son! I said yes, often, but that we'd never done anything because I'd wanted him – you – to make the first move, and he seemed disappointed. He said he thought there was a lot more consenting incest than people thought, because nobody talked about it, but he'd had lots of hints that it was quite common, and I said perhaps I'd have sex with you, and tell him about it!!! We took a taxi to his place, and in it he kissed me and put his hand down my dress to fondle my breast, and I unzipped his jeans and put my hand inside and played with his cock – it was lovely and hard and gristly. In his flat I stripped naked for him, apart from my sandals, and told him I wanted to make a down payment before he took any pictures, because I wanted sex so badly, and I took his cock out and kissed it, and he did me on the couch in his studio, the one in the pictures. Dear Mum Then he took a picture of his semen trickling down my leg, and showing the swollen lips of my vulva. There's that and some other pictures he took darling, that I haven't sent you – I was afraid you'd be upset at seeing them, but I'll send them if you want. There's one he took when he was lying on his back with me straddling him – he held the camera above his head, and you can see his cock half inside me (after the first pictures he took some of us having sex). There's one of me sucking his cock, and he took one of me making him come with my breasts, the way I did in your dream, and he got it just as his semen spurted on my lips, before I took his cock in my mouth. And he took a picture of him doing my bottom ... Afterwards, he showed me pictures he'd taken of his teen-age girls. They're twins and absolutely gorgeous, with long fair hair almost to their waists, and lovely young budding breasts. Clive had photographed them naked in bed, kissing each other, and I said I'd have loved to have been in bed with them. He said he was sure they'd like it too, and he'd fix it up for one weekend, providing he could take pictures, and fuck me afterwards. I was so turned on I made him fuck me again there and then. When I wrote about you having it up my backside, I got a plug I use sometimes and pushed it up my bottom, and I'm sitting on it ... it's not very comfortable, but it's very exciting! And I should have told you that I'm naked, and the towel I'm sitting on is soaking wet!!! Darling, I'm fingering myself like mad, imagining you looking at the pictures, and being fucked (do you mind me using that word?) wishing it was you doing it to me. I'm going to put something on and post this to you, dearest, and then I'm coming back and going to bed (did I tell you I always sleep naked these days, thinking of you?) and use my dildo, imagining you looking at the pictures, and dreaming about what you're going to do to me when you come home. I love you, darling! Your sex-mad Mother Oh, God, Mum! Those pictures were fantastic, wonderful, marvellous, incredible! I masturbated like mad looking at them, but my hand wasn't enough – I needed you, your body, but failing that another woman, so I went into town. There's a high-class brothel there that we sometimes go to – most of the customers like young girls, but there's a woman of about your age that I've always gone with (I wonder why!). Most of the time she serves coffee to customers, but she likes me, and I think she'd flattered that I always choose her. Her name's Anna – she doesn't speak any English, but we manage with a few words of French, and she's got a lovely body, but a little on the full side. Once I asked her if she had a son – un fils – and she nodded, and I managed to ask her if she had sex with him, but she just smiled, blushing, and looked away, but when I fucked her she responded even more eagerly than usual. Well, she was there last night, and free, just handing coffee to the patrons, and her face lit up when she saw me – she managed to tell me she hadn't had sex for a week, and she was hungry –j'ai faim! I just looked at her for a while - like all the girls, she wore a long, almost transparent robe that was slit to let her legs emerge when she walked, and I could see her heavy breasts swaying as she moved, her big, dark nipples clearly showing through the robe. Her eyes sparkled when I booked her for the night, and we went up to a room, with pictures of people having sex in countless positions on the walls, and lots of mirrors. Normally, the girls don't kiss clients, but we'd got over that a long time ago, and I took her in my arms and kissed her feverishly, pushing my tongue in her mouth, and then we kissed open-mouthed, our saliva running over each other's chins, and then she took off her robe and undressed me, while we kept kissing and I caressed her breasts. Then she used her mouth on me, and I came almost at once, thinking about you, Mum. I nearly choked her, and her hands were all over me, and then I started to fuck her. All the time I was thinking of you, and you being fucked, and Anna started moaning and writhing, and I ejaculated into her, but I stayed hard and just kept fucking her. She was going crazy, clinging to me and crying, her body jerking, while I dug my fingers into her plump body and she sank her teeth into my shoulder, until I exploded into her again. After that, we rested a bit, and then she started kissing me passionately, and I fucked her again. She went and got some refreshments, and I started kissing her body and sucking her breasts, all the time thinking of you ... I think I was practising! Anna was amazed at my appetite – I couldn't leave her alone, and then I fucked her bottom. Yes, Mum, I love it, and I can't wait to do it to you! It was fantastic, with my cock right up her backside and reaching under her to squeeze her big hanging breasts. Her nipples and aureoles are enormous, the length of the tip of my little finger, and I love sucking and biting them, and I pinched and tugged them, then played with her clitoris before I grabbed her fleshy hips and started fucking her bottom in earnest. She looked at me over her shoulder, smiling and gasping and nodding for me to fuck her harder. Afterwards, I slept for a bit, but she woke me up and I fucked her again, and then slept again, and fucked her again ... In the morning, she clung to me and kissed me, her eyes brimming, thanking me, and I stroked her naked body, and just as I was about to leave she went down on her knees and took my cock in her mouth again. When I left, she was still kneeling, looking at me it seemed adoringly, my semen running out of her mouth, and squeezing her breasts. It mad me think that it's what we'll be doing before too long, Mum. I can't wait! Harry PS Yes, please! Send me those photos of you being fucked – no, I don't mind you using the word – I like it! Dearest darling I'm so glad you liked the pictures, and here are the others. I loved hearing about what they did for you, and about Anna, although I'm envious that she can have you, and I can't – yet!!! When you come home we'll do all those things and more, but when I suck you in the morning you won't have to leave, but stay for some more! I can't wait either, my love. It's funny – once again we seem to be thinking the same things. Your letter arrived early, and I thought about it in the shower, wishing you were there with me, soaping me, fucking me against the wall ... I fingered myself like mad, and had a mini orgasm, but I had to get dressed and go up to London to sign some papers at the solicitors. It was a very warm day, and I put on a short blue denim skirt and a sleeveless white cotton blouse with several buttons left undone – recently, I've stopped wearing a bra, it makes me feel more sexy, and I like men looking at my breasts moving. The blouse wasn't thin enough to see through, but my nipples were pretty noticeable, especially as they stiffen at the slightest excuse. I carried a thin white cardigan, high-heeled black sandals, oh, and skimpy blue panties, and that was it – bare legs, of course. Signing the papers didn't take very long, although the solicitor insisted on giving me coffee, mainly because he wanted to stare at me bare legs and my cleavage and my nipples jutting against my blouse, I suspect! Anyway, I gave him a good show, and then strolled around for a bit, wondering what to do, and maybe go and see a film or something. I happened to glance in the window of a bookshop, and my God, there was a young man flicking through a book, and he looked exactly like you, darling! I went in and moved around a bit, until I ended up beside him. I squinted at the book he was looking at, and saw that it was Delta of Venus, by Anais Nin. I let my breast brush against his arm. 'It's very erotic,' I murmured. 'You should buy it – it gives you a good idea of how women think about sex.' He looked at me, and I thrilled – it was exactly the way you used to look at me when I knew I'd excited you. 'I'd rather a woman told me herself,' he said, 'but if you recommend it I'll get it anyway.' He glanced down at me breast, which was still nudging against his arm. 'And perhaps you'd let me buy you a coffee or something, and you can tell me more about it.' I didn't know if he meant the book or sex, and I didn't care. I told him I'd just had coffee, but he could buy me a glass of wine, and he paid for the book and we left. We found a wine bar near by, and he bought us both a large glass of wine and we sat at a small low table. It was impossible to put our legs under it, so I crossed mine, letting my skirt ride up, and I saw him staring at my bare thighs. I told him a bit about the book, and that it was a famous classic erotic work, and couldn't resist saying that Anais Nin had had sex with her father, and I asked him if he'd ever thought about sex with his mother. His eyes flickered, and I knew that he had. It was just about lunchtime, and he suggested a sandwich, and we chatted some more, and I told him that sometimes Anais Nin had sex with four lovers in one day, and he asked me if I'd ever hand that many. And I laughed and said a lot more. He bought another couple of glasses of wine, and when he came back to the table, he moved close so that our legs touched, and he kept looking at my nipples, which just made them harder. Then I told him about what Clive had said about lots of people probably having and incestuous relationship, and that I had a son who was working abroad, and kept writing to me saying how much he wanted my body. 'I don't blame him,' he said, and he told me his name was Jonathan, and then he put his hand on my bare thigh. I covered his hand with mine, and said that I wanted you too, and that his mother probably wanted him, and he blushed, and said that they'd had sex a few times, and sometimes went away for a weekend together as man and wife. Then he looked into my eyes and said he wanted me. I moved his hand further up my thigh and said I wanted him, too, and we finished our wine and left. There was a small, cheap looking hotel just across the street, and we went in and said we wanted a room for a few hours. The woman behind the desk didn't look surprised, and I guessed that we weren't the first clients who just came for the afternoon without luggage. The room was small but clean, and as soon as we were inside Jonathan started kissing me. We undressed each other, and he started kissing my breasts, and I stroked his cock and then kissed it. We carried on like that for a while, and then he climbed on top of me and I put his cock in me. He started fucking me like mad, and when he finally exploded into me he cried out: 'Mummy!' and it was that as much as anything that gave me a fantastic orgasm! After we'd rested he fucked me again, and then to my disappointment he said he had a train to catch. I went with him to the station and gave him my phone number, and he kissed me and squeezed my breast in full view of everybody, and I didn't care, and he said he'd read the book on the train and think of me. It was still early, so I went up to Notting Hill. Did you know I was a member of an art film house there? They were showing a film about Ancient Rome that seemed to have everything, men, women, girls, boys, you name it, so I went in. The film was everything I expected, and more. As I found a seat, a woman was sucking a boy's cock while he was stretched out on a divan. There were lots of lovely close-ups, and guess who I thought of??? It turned out she was his mother, which was even more exciting, and there were scenes of them naked together in a sunken bath, and lots of them fucking. They may have been actors, but they seemed to love it – the sex wasn't simulated, and there lots of shots of him coming. Her husband – the boy's father – fucked her too (often), as well as guards and slaves, and the boy fucked several girl slaves, not to mention his grandmother. There was a lovely orgy scene, with everybody fucking everyone else, and there was a gorgeous black woman slave, about seven feet tall. She was naked, and she whipped a white girl slave, and made her kiss her breasts, and then she lay down and pushed the girl's face between her legs. It made me shiver, wishing that I was the girl (did I tell you that my black lover used to call me his white slut? He was often rough with me – I loved that), and I slipped my finger into my blouse and stroked my nipple. Anyway, between the fucking on screen I glanced around – the place was about half full, and there were lots of couples around, some of them men with boys, and a couple of them were bent over sucking the men's cocks, and men playing with boys' cocks. Along the row there were two women, and one of them glanced at me, but her girlfriend pulled her face round and started to kiss her. The flickering light reflected from the screen made my bare legs and arms gleam, and before long, a man moved to sit beside me. I glanced at him, and he seemed well-dressed and quite handsome, and I didn't object when he put his hand on my leg. Then he took my hand and put it on his groin, and he had a hell of an erection. I had to struggle to get his cock out, and I started to masturbate him. After a while he groaned and took out his handkerchief, and God, didn't he come! A lot of it spilled over me hand, but I didn't care, and I played with him as he softened. Then he put his arm round me and played with my breasts, and asked if we could go somewhere. I let him kiss me, but said I wanted to see the end of the film, and he put his hand inside my blouse and played with my breasts and I toyed with his cock and got him hard again and made him come again. The film ended with the husband getting killed, and the boy married his mother. There was another mini-orgy at the wedding feast, and then guess what? The boy and his wife/mother went to bed, and surprise, surprise, he fucked her! We left the cinema, and he wanted to go somewhere and do me, but I was getting hungry, and told him he could take me to dinner, so we went to a Chinese place and had something to eat. He said he name was Michael – he was pretty boring, but he kept looking at me and putting his hand on my leg, and then we went up an alley. He had some condoms, and he fucked me against the wall, but he came much too soon, and then he put me in a taxi to the station. The train was nearly empty, and I sat in a carriage with just an old man of about seventy-five or eighty. I sat opposite him, and saw him staring at my breasts and legs, and I crossed my legs and eased my skirt up so that the old chap could see more of my thighs, and his eyes practically bulged. As soon as the train pulled out of the station, I moved over and sat beside him and put his hand on my thigh, and he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and I took his cock out and started rubbing it. He put his hand inside my blouse and felt my breast, and I had to rub him for what seemed like hours – my wrist was aching like hell before at last he came. He jerked and groaned as I produced a trickle of semen, and for a moment I was afraid I'd given him a heart attack, but he was OK, and just then we came into a station. Some other people came in, and I put my cardigan across his lap and kept playing with his limp cock with his hand still on my thigh and my skirt right up, enjoying the way they stared at us. Dearest, writing to you like this makes me want to be fucked so badly I could scream! I'm going to put on a dress, with nothing under it, although I'll leave the plug up my bottom, and then go and post this letter, and then pick up a man to fuck me – being fucked with the plug in is lovely! God, I am a slut, aren't I, darling? I suppose I always have been, but I tried to hide it from you until now, but somehow I don't think you mind, and I'm YOUR slut! I do love you so much, dearest, and wish so much it was you who is going to fuck me tonight.. Your slut and mother. Mum, you glorious, beautiful slut, I can't tell you how much I love you! I read your marvellous letter, and didn't bother to masturbate, but went into town and went straight to Anna. Poor Anna! We went up to a room, and I practically tore her robe off her, and kissed her madly, and then slapped her face. Like you, she likes men to be rough with her sometimes, and I've often spanked her, but she saw the look on my face, and she got a silk whip and handed it to me, smiling expectantly. I whipped her plump bottom, and her thighs, and then her heavy breasts and her belly, and between her legs, and she kept saying yes, yes, and oui, oui, and then I fucked her. God, did I fuck her! I'd taken your letter with me, and I read it again while she sucked me, and then I fucked her again – you get the idea. She was quivering and sobbing, clawing at me, kissing me, and I slapped her again, and read your letter while she masturbated me, and then, well, I fucked her, and fucked her bottom, hoping that you'd found a man who did everything you wanted. I've re-lived every word of your letter, and there's so much I want to ask you. I want to know about your black lover, and ALL the men who've had you (and the women, too!), and when you started to have sex, and became a slut, and be rough with you for not encouraging me to seduce you, an above all to fuck you, my darling, my mother. And I want to see you with those girls, and watch you being fucked, and then fuck you again. But the reason I'm writing is to tell you that I went to the personnel office and said that I needed to go home on urgent family business, and they gave me an advance of ten days leave! I've booked a flight for tomorrow morning, so – I'll deliver this letter in person! I'll strip you naked, and watch you read it, and – use your imagination, my mother who I've loved all my life, and who is going to get fucked as she's never been fucked before. Now, come to bed, darling - this erection won't wait any longer! Harry