6 comments/ 47882 views/ 11 favorites After the Funeral By: Elliebelle Hi! My name's Ellie. I used to live pretty wild and stupid, but then I had a baby and I decided to try and be smarter. Inside, though, I'm still as impulsive and hungry as ever. Sometimes, to help myself work through the drive without acting out, I sit down to write about it. Today is sort of a two-fer. I hope you don't think I'm too twisted. In case you're new to my little fantasies, you should know that I'm eighteen and in good shape, but I'm not a skinny little thing or a super model. I work hard to keep my 36C breasts and 34-inch hips nice and shapely, though. I have long dark hair and my eyes shift between chestnut and mahogany depending on the light. I usually wear glasses and a nose-stud, and I almost always dress to show off cleavage. I have a friend named Kim, the same age as me. She's a petite blonde, probably a full three inches shorter than my own 5'3". Her figure is cute and perky, tight but not flat. Her eyes are wide but thin, her lose angular, and she has a slight, adorable over-bite. She always has a lot of eye makeup on. We're not that close, but we've known each other pretty much since I moved out here. Her dad was one of my teachers at church. Her dad, Mr. James, is also one of the hottest white American guys I've ever met. Ex-military, he's tall and strong with dark, wavy hair, five o'clock shadow at all hours of the day, and the straightest posture I've ever seen. His shoulders could carry the world, and his arms look ready to wrestle or embrace at a moment's notice. He's sweet and gentle, but has a commanding presence and takes no nonsense. When he likes you, there's always a little flirting in his eyes. I always knew it was innocent, but it didn't stop me from dreaming. Those dreams took on new life when his wife got cancer and had a long, painful two years in and out of hospitals. Mr. James' loneliness was plain. And it made me want him even more. His wife passed away in November. Seeing him standing at the grave in his black suit, his only companion his pretty but sullen daughter in a black dress, I felt compelled. As usually happens with me, my perfectly innocent and sweet emotional interest took no time at all to turn into imagined debauchery. I was wearing a dark grey dress that was tasteful, but snug and had a keyhole to my cleavage. Perfect for comforting the widower who had suffered loneliness for two years. At least in my mind... I go up to Mr. James after the service and ask if I can help at all. Go home with them, cook their lunch, make sure the house was in order, things like that, she they can just relax. Smiling with sad eyes, Mr. James thanks me. "That would be very helpful, Ellie. Thank you so much. You're so thoughtful." I smile a little, but manage to keep it subdued. Throughout lunch, I'm very attentive to Mr. James, very solicitous and concerned. Afterward, when Kim goes to her room to lay down, my friendliness becomes slightly flirtatious. A few more smiles. Something just shy of a wink. Even a comment about how handsome he is, followed by an immediate laugh. Eventually, I sit next to him on the couch, very close. I look at him. I know that I can't play this slow. If he has too much time to think about it, he'll never sleep with a girl the age of his own daughter. I lay my hand on his thigh. "Is there anything else I can do, Mr. James?" He places an innocent arm over my shoulders. "You've done enough, Ellie. You've been a big help. You have been a big help for a long time." I smile just a little. "I hate seeing you so lonely." "Goes with the territory." I turn slightly toward him and allow my hand to slide inside his thigh. "It doesn't have to." He looks at me sharply, but doesn't move his arm. "Ellie, I'm not sure what you mean, but loneliness is just part of life." I lean my weight into him, bringing my hand up inside his thighs until it is resting on his package. "Ellie!" Now he moves his arm. "You're a pretty girl and very sweet, but --" I rub at his crotch, slowly, gently. His manhood responds almost instantly. He squirms, trying to make space between us. "Ellie, we can't do that." I lay my head on his chest, and keep rubbing at his crotch. "I just want you to feel less lonely, Mr. James, at least for a little while." "I appreciate that Ellie, but it's not a good idea." He gets up off the couch and walks across the room. I rise and follow up, reaching around to pull down his zipper and work on his belt as I lay my breasts against his back. "Don't you want me, Mr. James?" "Ellie." His cock sprung out of his pants and I wrapped my pretty little hands around it. "I think you can tell that I do want you." "Then what's wrong?" I slide around in front of him, kissing his beautiful manhood. My mouth is moist, and my tongue is cool. I leave smears of dark lipstick on his strong sex. "I'm eighteen." "I know, Ellie, but --" Even though he's protesting, his hips are now swaying gently, rubbing his hardon against my cheeks. "Then what?" I ask, running my tongue around him. "You're lonely and you want me, and I want you and want to make you feel good." I take him into my mouth. "Ellie, it's been so long," he groans. His left hand braces himself against the wall. His right slides into my hair. He rocks slowly in and out of my mouth. "And it feels good, but we can't do this." I say nothing. I just suck and slide up and down his shaft. And then I hum. "Ellie, we can't do this." "How long has it been?" I ask, stroking his throbbing cock while I pull out his balls and nibble on them. "Since you've felt like this?" "More than two years," he admitted. "Then don't hold back," I beg, sliding my mouth around him again, fucking him with my face as hard as I can. "Ellie, please -- please -- stop, Ellie -- please -- oh -- oh god, Ellie --" "Cum for me, Mr. James, cum in my pretty mouth." And he does. It's been too long. He has no stamina. He cums so much and so suddenly that I can't keep up with it, and while I swallow much of his creamy seed, a lot spills back out onto my face. "Ellie, I'm sorry." He's still hard, and I rub his cummy cock all over my face, smiling up at him. I take off my glasses and stand up. I take his hand into mine, and start walking toward his bedroom. "Ellie, what are you --" I don't say anything. Once we're in the bedroom, I slip out of my heels and crawl onto the bed he once shared with his wife. I want to give him a new memory, one not of loss. "Ellie, we can't --" I grab his hand again and pull him onto the bed with me. I kiss his mouth and begin stroking his still-hard cock. "We can." "But I can't --" I reach up my skirt and pull down my black panties. I wave them under his nose and then lay them on the bed. "You can do whatever you want, Mr. James." We're still mostly dressed, but the protesting is over. Mr. James is on top of me, his weight almost as comforting as it s pressuring. My legs spread wide and my dress rides up to my hips. He thrusts and he's inside me. "Oh god, Ellie, it's --" "I know," I say, slurping on his tongue and rocking up against him. "It's been so long." "No," he says, kissing my throat and pawing my breasts through my dress. "It's never felt like this. I'm not saying it's better. But it's different." I squeeze my inner muscles on him and try to hump up at an angle. "Welcome to a new world, Mr. James." "It's an amazing world." "Yes, it sure is." He strokes in and out, then a little to the left, a little to the right, using his rod to pry open my gates. I roll roll my hips, squeezing my muscles with every thrust. Soon I'm so swollen that he can't help grinding against my g-spot. His stamina is better now, and his cock strokes me with tremendous power and skill. I cum before he does, but not long enough before for him to have pulled out and he empties his second load deep inside me. We cuddle for a little while, but when he falls asleep, I decide to go see how Kim is doing. Kim is asleep, too, on her bed, still in her black dress. She's laying on her belly, and as if seeing her for the first time I notice how cute her backside is. I remember how sad she was at the funeral, and I think I owe her a little cheering up, too. I sit on her bed. She doesn't stir. I stroke her legs gently and she wakes. She looks back at me. I run my hand up under her dress. No panties. Her ass is tight and silky. Her expression is serious. "I'm not into girls," she says, "but if you can make me cum hard enough to forget how much it hurts right now, you can do whatever the fuck you want to me." I bend down and kiss the back of her calves. The back of her knees. The back of her thighs. Her breath is sharper. She's not talking, not making noises, but her body is responding. Moaning, I brush her dress up to her waist and ran my tongue around her round ass cheeks. Then I kneel behind her and lift her small form up, bringing her shaved pussy to my mouth as the dress falls down to her shoulders. My tongue slides along the length of her, parting her labia, and then, with a mouth that recently held her father's semen, I feast on the pretty little delicacy. I pull her legs over my shoulders. I rub at her clit. Her face pressed into the mattress, Kim grunts helplessly. This isn't love-making, it's one friend making another cum. It's sex at its most mechanical and animal. But the taste and the smell of her, the feel of her on my lips, the touch of her legs stretched over my shoulders, the sight her petite body splayed helplessly in a line from my mouth to the bed . . . It's driving me insane. Kim is getting close. She starts squealing. She almost sounds like she's in pain. She's biting at the mattress. With a loud, piercing scream, her body bucks once -- twice -- three times, and she becomes slippery enough that I just let her fall to the mattress. Too hot. I lay back, pull my dress up, and start two-handing my cunt. One hand holding myself open, the other frigging my slit with three fingers. Overcome by the obscenity of our moment, Kim says, "Fair's fair," and places her cute face between my legs. She rubs her cheeks on my thighs and purrs. "Thank you, Ellie." I grab for her hair or her ears or anything to pull her mouth close me. She crawls up and kisses around my labia and then licks at me. She pauses. There's a taste and a texture she knows is masculine. "Who's cum is that?" she asked. I crook one leg around her neck, blocking off her escape route. "Your dad's." "oh my god," she says, horrified. "You were fucking my dad?" I use my leg to pull her face to pull her back in. "Yes, sweetie, I was, and he came inside me." "God, I don't want to eat my dad's cum." I wrap my other leg around her leg, holding her in tight. "Fair's fair," I remind her. Sighing, she reaches out with her tongue and begins a slow exploration of my womanhood. The sensual bathing increases my already tremendous arousal, and the scent and feel of me has an unconscious effect on her, despite all her intended objections. I stroke her hair lovingly. She laps at my pussy more aggressively, occasionally sucking at my clit. "Finger me," I finally beg. Her mouth centers on my clit and she inserts one finger within me. I feel her pressing against my swollen inner walls. I groan. She finds my spot, and it only take a few strokes to push me over the edge. When I cum, I release my hold on her, and stare at the pretty girl, panting. "Thank you, Kim I know you didn't really want to do that." She doesn't smile. She doesn't say anything. She just parts her lips and begins slurping traces of her dad's cum from my labia. After the Funeral Author's note: My stories so far have focussed mainly on the mechanics of sex romps, so this story is a bit of a break from form for me. There's a little sex at the end, but mainly it's me trying to write convincing characters. Any feedback is very welcome, but constructive criticism will earn you a special place in my little heart. Thanks! *** "So this must be the girlfriend." Every time someone said it, I could feel a shudder inside. I didn't belong here. My narrow eyes, flat face and dark skin declared me an external intrusion into a communal moment. All around me unknown people meandered, shrouded in black like some hazy dream. They reminisced about people and places I would never know, offered benedictions and condolences in a language I couldn't understand and innocuously ignored the aberration of my presence. Except for that statement, which was directed at Isaac, not me, because he was the one they knew. He belonged here; the unseen contents of the tactfully plain wooden container had been like a father to him. I was just baggage he brought along. I was miserable. Some of the mourners would try to strike up a conversation with me, ask me how I met Isaac, what I was studying, what I thought of some news story or other. It was as natural as a Potemkin Village, the failed attempt just emphasizing how unnatural it was to have me here, grafted into this scene. So there I was feeling sorry for myself, knowing the whole time how petty and self centered it was to feel sorry for myself. Everyone around me had lost a friend, a mentor, a member of their community, and I was moping because it was awkward for me. I was here for a reason. I was here because Isaac needed me to be here, and I knew that he would be there for me. He was a few feet away, talking to a slightly stooped older woman and sharing bittersweet memories. He looked tired. Not like the times I had seen him after a night of cramming, although he had stayed at the mortuary all night reading psalms over the body. It was like a parasite was eating away his joy, draining him of life. When I had seen his face two nights ago, I had known that death was involved. It was the same look my mother had worn after her father had passed. That much stayed the same across cultures. He had tried to be stoic, noting that Benny had been old and housebound for years. Maybe it was even a release after years of dialysis and surgery. He could tilt his lips up in a parody of a smile and mouth those platitudes, but he couldn't stop looking like it was a part of him that died. In unguarded moments little bits of the truth leaked out. He should have visited more, should have encouraged Benny to stick to the doctors' advice better, should have done something. Those shoulds engulfed him, suffocated him so much that I had trouble breathing. I just wanted to yell at him to let it out, let me help him. Let me do something. It wasn't that simple, it never is. He had to work through it, and I just had to do what I could. There were moments when he flashed to life, the weight lifting from his shoulders and it was almost like seeing him normal again. But it was like water poured on a hot plate, a brief flash of life and energy that dissipated into some invisible state. I saw it with the old lady and him when they recalled some random tidbit about the deceased. Benny had apparently been quite the character, mouthing obscenities and making bad puns. It explained a lot about Isaac. At last he broke off from the woman with a close hug and came back to me with an out of place smile on his lips. "Meira's a good one," he said offhandedly. "Yeah, she seemed like it," I replied as pleasantly as I could muster, draping myself on his arm. "We got a good turn out, I was afraid we wouldn't get a minyan," he continued, finishing off our almost mechanical conversation. The way he said that last word just brought home how alien all this was to me. When I had first heard him speak Hebrew I had teased him about it, trying to mimic the strange tongue with its odd Ys, Rs and some sound that resembled coughing up phlegm. Now every word in it sounded like the tolling of a funeral bell. The service began. Most of it was in Hebrew so I kept a respectful silence, then came a eulogy in English with some more reminiscing. At last, the casket was lowered into the ground and everyone shoveled a heap of dirt onto it. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to or not, and I was too abashed to ask. So I stood there, and watched the ashen faced mourner's filed by. Isaac was the last in the line. *** We went to another small ceremony that night where we had a light dinner, then headed back to our place. Isaac found a seat and brooded, I put some of the food that had been passed to us in the fridge and came back to give him shoulder rub. For a few minutes nothing was said between us. "Thanks for going today." "No, it was nice to see all those people you told me about." He gave an aborted chuckle. "You know one of things I love about you? You're a shitacular liar." "Shaddap," I play growled, pinching the side of his neck. We wrestled a little, giggling until I tumbled over the arm of his chair pressing into him. Our faces were inches apart, our noses brushed a little. I leaned in closer, feeling his hardness grow against my thigh. He stopped. "I don't think I'm up for it." He didn't meet my eyes as he spoke. I ran a hand through his hair, feeling the curls wrap around my fingers. I squirmed so that I was sitting across his lap, my head nestled in the nook formed by his neck and shoulder, my legs hanging over the side of the chair "Can you hold me at least?" "Always," he said as his arms tightened around me, our lips touching for a fleeting kiss. We stayed like that for a while. *** The next few days fell into a routine. We would both work, come home, have something to eat, make small talk, and go to bed. Things were slowly returning to normality: bad jokes, complaining about our respective jobs and playful flirtation. There was still a cloud that hung over Isaac, but it was fading. One night, I was groggily brought back from dreamland by a hand on my shoulder and a shaky voice. "Cathy?" "Yeah Itsy?" I responded with my pet name for him, only half awake. "I just..." I put a finger to his lips, then embraced him, whispering into his ear. "You don't have to explain." Silence, then a faint murmur "Yes, I do." I kissed him on the temple. "I'm always here to listen. You don't need to rush." "I know I haven't been very good to you lately." "None of that Jewish guilt bullshit," I said with a soft chuckle. "Oy, take all my little pleasures, you Dragon Lady you!" he exclaimed with the fakest Yiddush accent I've ever heard. "Don't make me get my whip and leather!" I didn't manage to keep a straight face, and dragged him down with me into a giggling fit. "I love you," he said after we both recovered. "I know." "I never was there for Benny enough, I don't want the same to happen between us." I squeezed him tightly. "Itsy, I love you, but you say some silly things. You're too much a part of me not to be there for me. And from all I've heard, Benny probably couldn't get rid of you either." He laughed, and laughter turned to tears. I just held him and comforted him as best I could. *** The week of mourning passed, life returned to more or less normal. We did normal things. Went out with friends, had drinks, had fun. We didn't have sex though; we just didn't find the mood again. . One day I came home to find him back early, pacing and fidgeting with his hands like a kindergartner preparing to tell his mom he broke the window. He flashed a nervous smile at me when he noticed I was back. "You're home early," I observed. "Yeah, I had to run some errands and I figured I might as well take the rest of the day off. Make up for being the guy who's there late all the time." I gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Taking longer to do things is not an excuse for doing less." "It is if you're the one to do them right!" "That's a big 'if'," I said, opening the refrigerator and noticing we still dangerously under stocked. "Unless 'doing things right' doesn't include keeping me fed. What errands did you run?" "Shit! I actually meant to get some groceries, but I kind of got caught up and forgot." I eyed him a little suspiciously. Something was up. "Got caught up in what?" "Ah, well, I kind of wanted. Well, given you know, and I just thought we'd been together for two years now..." It suddenly felt like my guts were in zero gravity as all the pieces fell together. Isaac wasn't pone for nerves, but there were things that were so big that there was no way around nerves. All this hemming and hawing could only mean one thing. "Isaac, you didn't..." I couldn't finish that sentence. "Uh, here," he whipped out the little box and flipped it open. There were three diamonds, inlaid in gold, sparkling up at me. "After everything, I can't..." There was a pause where he struggled for words. I didn't waste the opportunity, throwing my arms around him and mashing my lips against his. I'm not going to lie, it was more than a little sloppy. "Yes!" I yipped excitedly as soon as we broke off. Everything was one big endorphin rush, I felt like a little ball of energy on the brink of bursting. I mean, we'd talked about it a few times, and I was a hopeless romantic who always wanted to get married. But I hadn't thought it would be so soon! "What if I told you it was a break up ring?" he mused in a relieved tone. "Then your next lover would need a taste for castrati," I retorted pulling him in for another kiss. Our bodies pressed together rubbing against each other. I felt his cock pressing in to me, and I felt my own juices between my thighs, suddenly very aware of how my panties slid against my skin, of the space inside me that was empty. That needed filling. "Well, I do have a beautiful choir voice," he chuckled. "Shut the fuck up and ravish me," was all I had to say. We stumbled into the bedroom shedding a trail of clothes until I flopped onto the bed, naked. He escaped his underwear and slid up over me, kissing and sucking at my skin as ht advanced, taking my nipples into his mouth and biting them gently. God I loved that, but I wanted him more. I tugged up at his shoulders until we were kissing again. My lips found the spot right under his jaw that always made him crazy, and I felt his shaft, thick and throbbing, against my thigh. I reached down and took a hold of it, guiding it into my lower lips. I felt him sink into my, my slick wall enveloping him. He filled me, completed me. Every sense seemed supercharged: every touch electric, every glimpse beautiful, and every smell, taste and sound exquisite. Yet I still was oblivious to my surroundings, because the only thing that mattered was that the man I loved was part of me. Somehow I wound up on top, bouncing away as he ravished me, his hands and lips exploring everything they could touch. I felt him empty himself into my womb and a few seconds later felt myself succumb to crashing wave of orgasm. We lay there for a few moments, him sprawled on the bed and me sprawled over him. A few moments later he rose like the Phoenix. I don't know how many times we made love; one faded into the next until we collapsed, exhausted, having given ourselves completely to one another. *** The wedding took 6 months to happen, and 6 months after that our first child was born. We named him Benjamin An Shing (my grandfather's name). My parents made displeased noises about how quickly we had our first child, but they were quick to spoil the boy rotten (my mother seems to think that nothing short of an elephant is adequate food). Despite all the coddling, he is a remarkably precocious little guy, and more than a little bit of a handful. As for Isaac and me, we're looking forward to our second anniversary. And although I haven't told him yet, we may also be looking forward to our second child. I'm 4 weeks late as I type this, so I'm going to go out and get a test today. Guess this means no wine for our anniversary. I hope it's a girl! After the Funeral After the funeral we were all invited back for the wake, the reception and get together being at the family home. I had decided it wasn't something the rest of my family should endure, my wife not being really one of Mum's favourites, to put it mildly. In fact they were effectively sworn enemies since we had informed my mother and father of our marriage, after the event. They had assumed it was because Janet was pregnant. But that wasn't the case. Janet had been urging us to marry for about two years. Eventually, I went along with it. I was quite keen. But I had always had a roving eye at possibilities with other colleagues, (we worked in the same organisation), and amongst women I knew in politics as well as neighbours. Anyway, we suddenly decided to get married one day by special licence. I informed Mum afterwards and she went apeshit. Furious with me, but more with Janet, she told us not to expect a wedding gift. We hadn't and didn't get one. Nor did we see much of them after the wedding day either. A few years passed. I yielded to my roving eye, but secretly, within the marriage, we had a child Laura and I saw little of Mum. My father's death was a surprise. He and Mum had been very close. I had remembered their affection for each other in my childhood and adolescence as well as her affection for me. It was mutual. So now in the kitchen, she and I were ensuring that Mum's guests were fully stuffed and filled with alcohol in the living room. They were mostly older than Mum and came from his side of the family. There were a few of Mum's friends there and with their husbands. Her neighbour Dawn was the centre of some attention, being the only other single woman at the wake. Everyone was dressed appropriately for a funeral these days. Mum did wear black, though it was a fairly tight fitting dress up to her neck with sleeves to her wrists and the hemline to her knees but not below. For fifty-one she still looked good. She was not a thin one but with full hips and a very reasonable bosom, held up I was sure, with a very firm bra. She wore low heels and hose. Her hips may well have had some support too as her tummy was well tucked in. I broke protocol by not wearing a tie but an open black shirt with a white t shirt underneath. We had both been busy serving and now were alone in the kitchen having a stiff whisky each, more for reward for our efforts than anything else. Suddenly Mum put her glass on the table moved to me and held me very close. "Ian, I know we've been so distant these years and it's mainly my fault, but I can't bear it any longer and need to see more of you now." I had been leaning against the edge of the sink and she leaned completely into me crushing me hard. She was about nine inches shorter than me. She sobbed into my shirt giving in to her grief after being so stalwart at the funeral. I just held her close whilst she gave vent to her sadness. I could feel much of her soft yet yielding body as she held me really tight. It was a very emotional moment for us both. Dawn's voice broke the connection as she entered the kitchen with empty glasses. Struck by our posture, she apologised and instantly retreated with a clear blush on her cheeks. Mum quickly disentangled herself from me but didn't appear embarrassed by Dawn's unexpected entry. She reminded me of her request and I reassured her that I would see more of her and would be staying a few days anyway. Later mixing with Mum's guests, Dawn made her way to me. I hadn't known her that well before today and took her in visually as she descended upon me. She was a bit older than mum, mid-fifties perhaps but hadn't lost her femininity. A dark fullish blouse and tight skirt held her shapely body nicely proportioned with what appeared to be, and were, seamed stockings that were quite unusual these days. She clocked my visual of her and did the same, I thought, to me. "It's good, at last, to meet you Ian. Oh I'm sorry that was a bit bitchy wasn't it?" "I didn't take it that way Dawn. Don't worry about it. I'm glad you're so close to each other." "How did you know Ian?" Again she put her foot in it but soon realised I meant about being neighbours. "Let's start again Ian shall we?" I moved to more neutral ground as she gradually let go her blushing. Eventually she relaxed and we sat together on one of Mum's couch for an hour filling each other in on our lives. Married, divorced, departed, adult children, she now lived alone happily and, she let me know, liberated by those life changes. At last guests departed leaving just us three. Mum sat opposite on the other couch and kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs under her dress, but not without my noticing that she too was wearing stockings having revealed her soft white thighs as her stockings ended just above her knees. Still, I clocked it but didn't think about it. She and Dawn filled each other in on the other guests she hadn't met and I just listened enamoured of their easy warmth with each other. Eventually I made my excuses and departed upstairs, slightly the worse for wear from the day's turmoil and the later drinking. Showering and then collapsing in my old room, I had noticed how little had changed in the room since my departure years ago. I lay on my bed reminiscing about the day, with just my light dressing gown on and open. At that moment a part of me just started to grow all on its own. Then I nursed it so it stood stiff and high as I reflected on the events that appeared to have caused it to stiffen. Mum and her crushing embrace, Dawn's embarrassment both then and later, the sheer lushness they both exuded, Dawn's seams, Mum's white thighs and stockings, her fullness and firmness in my arms. I began to foster my feelings by attending to my stiff by gently stroking the head of my cock. Was Mum trying to say anything else apart from her need to be closer to her son? Was she sexually aroused? Was she having an affair with Dawn? Did I fancy my mother? Dawn? Getting up, I crept to the door and opened it quietly ajar. Mum and Dawn were now on the same couch talking softly with Mum's head on Dawn's shoulder and her arm around Dawn's waist. Nothing suspicious in that. I retreated and closed my door. Back in bed, the drink took its toll. My cock diminished of its own accord and I fell asleep. I dreamt. I was eighteen and coming home one night a bit passed it for the booze. I slipped in the back door as quietly as possible not to waken anyone. A small light came from the living room. Cautiously, I moved to towards the light. Mum. Not alone. With her colleague from work whom she had brought home before. Where was Dad? She was lying back on a chair. Her friend Joan was kneeling on the floor between Mum's thighs. Her eyes were closed. Joan was deep into her cunt sucking for all she could obtain. Mum was in heaven. I quickly retreated to avoid disaster. I wake in a sweat. It wasn't a dream. It was a reminder of an actual event which I had blocked in my relative innocence. It came to me in an instant. Dawn may well be Mum's lover. Was she fully lesbian or bisexual? I decided to tread warily round my mother. Going downstairs in my dressing gown to the kitchen I was met by Mum at the sink washing some of yesterday's glasses, too delicate for the dishwasher. She was wearing a beige nightie that came down to her knees. "Hi Ian just clearing after yesterday -- such a mess. Sorry if I disturbed you." "No Mum not at all. I just woke with a hangover that's all." She got me a fizzy to settle my head. When I'd drunk it and put the tumbler down, she again came to hug me like yesterday, though dressed very differently. She pressed herself against me. "Ian, it's so wonderful to have you home. Can you really stay awhile?" Her free breasts were tight against my chest and her hips hard into me. I started to swell under the gown. She may have noticed for she gradually withdrew so as not to embarrass her or me. "Love, I'm sorry, I feel so needy, never felt like this before. I want you here to hold me whenever you can. Will you?" "Of course mum, whenever." "So, that's a deal then. I have to go to see Dawn too, as I think I may have upset her as well." "Mum, I'm sure you didn't she's very fond of you." Nevertheless she went next door dressed in the same nightie with just a dressing gown. I took my breakfast back to my room to read the paper. However, I became, again, preoccupied with thoughts of mum. She had cuddled me once again, without any reservation with only her nightie on. Stiffening once more at the thought of her softness and apparently unwitting sexuality revealed by her not wearing a bra and maybe no panty. Suddenly, I heard a door slam and Mum returning more quietly in our front door. The slammed door was obviously Dawn's. What had happened? Downstairs I found Mum slumped over the kitchen table weeping profusely. Standing beside her, I placed my arm round her shoulder and gave her a hug to console her. She turned and hugged in return with her face in the lower part of my tummy, frustratingly just above my crotch. "Hey what's up Mum?" She continued sobbing and them, "Oh Ian, Dawn's upset with me and threw me out." Eventually she calmed. Aware of movement in my groin, I lifted her to her feet and drew her to the living room to the couch and sat her down with me beside her. Cuddling her round her shoulders again I pressed her to convey the problem to me. Slowly she found her tongue. "I really can't say." "Can't?" "No Ian I can't." "Was she angry with you Mum?" "Yes." "What made her angry then?" "Sorry, I can't go there Ian." So I tried another route. "Did you try to console her?" "I did but she just pushed me away and told me to go. She slammed the door in my face after hauling me there and told me to never see her again." Mum was definitely withholding from me. "That must make you very upset and hurt." At that she lost some of the tension in her body as if it was a kind of release that hit the spot. We held each other very close for awhile in silence. She put her free arm round my waist, her head cradled against my neck, her breasts pressing against my chest, holding me as if to acknowledge her release. Inwardly I was wondering how the row could have started alongside enjoying her physical closeness and feeling a faint stirring below. Then I wondered? "Did Dawn coming into the kitchen and seeing us have anything to do with it?" Mum unconsciously jolted in my arms but didn't reply. I had an intimation of what had happened at last and waited. "You felt rejected by Dawn, Mum." A tighter hug followed. "Sounds like a bit of jealousy to me." her body recognised my comment so I continued, "I can understand her being jealous, but she's no reason to has she?" "Only that you're my son, otherwise no." "Shall I go and see her Mum?" "Let her cool a bit before we do anything Ian." I assented to that. We were still sitting very close when she gave a big squeeze with her enveloped body still in her dressing gown but the hem had slipped revealing her thighs up to her stocking tops. I found the sight of her covered thighs and beginning of her soft white flesh exhilarating. The effect was a sudden fullness in my cock and its unwitting rise. She didn't see my emerging hardon fortunately. Her pressure against me did have the effect of pushing her breasts against her open neckline of her gown, giving me a delightful exposure. "She has to get used to your being around -- I'm not going to let her come between us whatever happens." I wasn't entirely sure what she meant but was beginning to lose my cool at that moment. "I'm so glad you've come back to me Ian." She was looking into my eyes when she moved her lips up to mine and ran her lips across mine, slowly in a very unmum like way. I reciprocated as we went into a kind of trance with our lips. Her mouth opened slightly and I let my tongue slip in the gap at the same time as running my hand down her back to her hips as I began to slide it over her buttocks. Realising my move I stalled my kiss. Mum backed off my lips and returned to my chest. She must have looked down for she noticed her cleavage but then glanced further down. Her reaction to the pyramid of my gown was instant. Shocked she withdrew with "Oh god Ian what now? What have I done? What a bloody mess -- oh shit. She tore herself away from me and ran upstairs to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Creeping slowly upstairs I listened outside her door and could hear her crying and sobbing. I felt callous but could do nothing at that moment I was sure and retreated to my bedroom. I let my dressing gown fall open and casually stroked myself, letting my thoughts wander over the highly frustrating previous hours. I decided to phone Janet, who could often get a bit sexual with me with phone sex, but she was out, fuck it. I decided to give Ruth a call. Bingo the phone rang, she was home, she lived alone and knew I was here for the funeral. But we had a thing going for us for over a year and she was as lewd and dirty as I was and always seemed willing to go there even on a Sunday morning. Very soon, I had her wanking with me over the phone about the whipping I had given her last week at her place whilst watching a particularly hard German video about a fifty year old woman getting a hard caning and anal fuck whilst tied. She was on the floor that day with her fingers in her cunt whilst we both watched the video and I beat her reddening arse with the whip we had bought together in a second hand shop. I was voicing our highs from that occasion when she started to cum in a crescendo over the phone. Fortunately I hadn't the speaker on for at that moment I started cuming to letting her hear me at the same time when my bedroom door opened and Mum stepped in, still in her nightie with no gown on and in her stocking feet. In the moment before she saw me, she looked becalmed but then she looked in horror at the sight of me shooting my day or two's spunk all over my semi-naked body. Silently she fled back to her bedroom banging the door again. This time I could hear her screaming and wailing even more than earlier. When Ruth came down from her high, I relayed what had happened, and was sure I heard a slight guffaw at the other end. We parted on intimate terms and promised to meet when I returned home. She was happy with the arrangement we had as she knew from the outset of my marriage, even though Janet didn't. I decided to face Mum this time and rose, cleaned off my residue with a tissue, tied my gown and went to her door. She had quietened down somewhat. Slowly I opened her door. She had the wit to not lock her door, thank goodness. She lay on her double bed on the sheet with no cover, still crying quietly. She looked askance when she saw me sit beside her but said nothing. "I'm sorry Mum you weren't meant to witness that." At the same time I lay my hand and arm across her lower back on her silk nightie. It felt good doing that and she didn't attempt to deter me but let it happen. I slowly soothed her softness. She kept her eyes closed as if ashamed of what she'd seen. "My fault Ian for coming in without warning. It's just my bad luck Ian to make things even worse than they are. Ian could you close the curtains, I must still have a hangover, and it's so bright in here." I closed the curtains as tight as I could and returned beside. She had turned over on her back, still in her nightie. The darkened room made it much more intimate and cool. Taking my hand again she placed it on her tummy as if for comfort. She asked me if it was Janet on the phone. I could honestly say no. She looked relieved for god's sake. "Can I ask who it was then Ian?" "A friend I've known a year or so, Ruth actually." "You haven't mentioned her before Ian. She must be nice. Is she? What's she like?" "About thirty, single and enjoys it, likes good fun and doesn't want to get involved -- at least that's what she tells me." "I can see she likes fun Ian. Oh I am sorry I intruded Ian. I was just coming to make peace and have a cuddle that's all." "You still can Mum." "This is nice but could you stroke my tummy like you were doing my back." "Sure Mum." I had forgotten I had been doing that earlier. As I started she looked so much more relaxed and closed her eyes again. She went silent on me as I moved my hand in circles round her navel. Her tummy was slightly plump from motherhood and woman years. I could see the outline of her breasts slightly flattened by her nightie and her years as well. Nevertheless, I felt a slight stirring down below. What a weekend so far. Widening my hand circle, I came into contact with her suspender belt. A note of caution or another awakening on my part, let alone her. She was saying nothing, but I could tell she wasn't going to stop me so far. About ten minutes passed. I noticed her thighs and legs relaxing from their earlier tension. Her nightie was around her suspenders and were on show. Ruth you just took the first flush, I'm feeling horny again. "Ian, that's lovely darling, don't stop, it's just what I need." "I won't stop Mum, as long as you like what I'm doing." She settled further down the pillow so her head was more aligned with her body. In doing so she had let the nightie ride up further, showing her white flesh above those stockings. She must know she's having a sexy show for me. Continuing my circular movements I slowly moved to a wider circle taking in her lower chest just below her lovely tits and just above her hairy mound. She visibly relaxed even further. She seemed to be encouraging me to continue. I was so glad she asked me to shut the curtains. I had never been this intimate with her in my life and I wasn't sure where this would end, though I could imagine it. I started to concentrate on her lower waist just above her hairs and well below where I had started. She started to reciprocate my movements with her own. It was if this care had never happened before. I decided to go for broke. Lifting her nightie above her hairs, I ran my hand round her mound very slowly and softly. She let out a great sigh but I couldn't hear any word. I was glad I was on her right side as, being left handed, I could be more dextrous and responsive to her. I slithered my hand in her hairs in small circles, gradually descending to her still closed slit. With her still silent, I slipped my finger into and along her cunt between her oh so wet labia and found myself where she wanted me to be, I was sure. Concentrating on her wetness I ran my fingers, now two along the crevice as I took in her vagina, and up to her surprisingly large clit where I concentrated my attention in between short hops lower down. But always back to her clit, where it was obvious she wanted me to be. She responded by widening and lifting her thighs now with her knees bent. I loved the sight of those stockings and suspenders holding them up. Fucking gorgeous. I decided to definitely put my own needs aside as I increased the tempo on her clit. I could feel her building up to her high, but then I would slide back down to take off the pressure but then return. I was now getting on this side of cruelty in stemming her inevitable need so I decided to go for it and returned to that swollen nub more directly by running my fingers along the sides rapidly. At that moment she let out a pent up scream. Lifting her hips to prevent me escaping I helped let loose her cum, an unrelenting cum that seemed like weeks of frustration suddenly let go. She collapsed but lifted her arms to envelop me in obvious gratitude. Where do we go from here? I wondered. After the Funeral Ch. 02 I had returned to my bedroom, quietly closed the door and crept into bed in as usual ungarbed. Whilst still wondering what Mum was up to and what the hell was going in Dawn's head, I slipped into sleep. As if in a dream, I became aware of a very soft movement near my thigh. Still very sleepy and only semi-conscious, I thought it was Janet, deciding to go down me, which was very rare, but enjoyable. She had, after all, first ensconced me with her mouth on my cock. My very sleepy mind jigged me into realizing that it wasn't and couldn't possibly be Janet. The movement beneath the sheet, for that was all that was covering me, must have been and was, in fact, Mum. I didn't react for some reason but remained still, half turned toward the bedside. In the dark I could just glint that Mum's head was under the sheet, she was wearing her nightie, kneeling on the floor. I could feel her soft fingers seeking out my cock under the sheet, followed by a wetness that must have been her tongue. Her fingers were deftly stroking my stem, just below my circumcised head. Her tongue, then her mouth enveloped my most sensitive part around the pronounced head that separated us from the uncut of this world. Now very much awake, I had to decide what to do. Would I, as normal, place my hand round the back of her head to acknowledge and show my approval and appreciation of what she was doing, as would have happened with Janet or Ruth? Or would I remain passive and ostensibly asleep. By doing the former, would be to show Mum that blowing me was one of the most intimate and beautiful things she could do for me. By the latter, she would not know quite how I felt. Moreover, by not conveying recognition, it would also give her more leeway as to whether we openly acknowledged this level of intimacy or not. I decided on the latter path. Her fingers and mouth are now having their effect. Even though she had caught me in orgiastic bliss on the phone with Ruth, just a few hours ago, her mouth and small fingers were having their way with me. My swelling resulted in more rapid finger strokes on her part as well as her spending more time concentrating her tongue on the underside of my head. I still managed to remain still, sensing no hesitation on her part. I was even able to resist thrusting my hips, my normal response to a passive blow-job. It was a novel, yet arousing experience, just letting her do all the work. As my cock rose to its full length, she took both hands to my stem, ensuring I didn't slide too far in her mouth. She was now in full swing, slurping her profuse saliva all round my head and beginning to suck harder at the same time. One of her hands sought my balls and clasped them tenderly. She affected a steady rhythm now not seeming to want to rush me, which was fine by me. Having cum recently, I could stay awhile in this state. Why was she doing this to me and for me? In gratitude for my masturbating her following her tears and upset earlier? Was she seeking any port, following Dad's demise and Dawn's fury? Did she actually fancy her son sexually? That was obvious. She wouldn't have come near be like this if she didn't want sex and probably found me attractive and safe. Whatever, this was sheer bliss. I didn't feel at all guilty let her suck me off. This was a wonderful ending to the funeral and I would soak it for all it was worth. But I now sensed urgency on her part. Her mouth was tightening round my head and her tongue gripped and slid up and down my underside at its most sensitive. To maintain my passivity was going to be an almighty strain. She was going to accomplish her ends. What was I to do with my spunk? She had taken the choice from me and she was going to have it in her mouth unless she spat me out. I had no idea what she did with Dad or even if they did suck each other. But she was sucking me now and that was all that mattered. A deep suck on her part had its effect. I blew, or rather, let it seep out with one huge internal relief. Usually, I am known for the loudness of my cums, but now that was repressed but still just beautiful in its suppressed energy and urgency on her part. She had come to get it and she now had got it in her mouth. As soon as I came she removed her head from the sheet. I remained eyes closed but sneakily saw her walking silently away and closing my door behind her. Turning over, I drifted once again to sleep. Waking late on Sunday morning, I felt damp below, I needed a morning pee. Then the realisation hit me. I had given her a slow masturbatory orgasm last night and she had come to me in the night and fellated me. my god, how were we to handle that, particularly as my masturbation of her was barely recognised and she had come to me and to all intents and purposes I could have had a wet dream but with no spunk! That amused me. But we still had a problem on our hands. Washing and dressing informally in my track suit, I went downstairs about ten-thirty to find her fully dressed in the kitchen in rather dowdy clothes which hid her sexuality. Sweater and pants and slippers. No apparent stockings and no glimpse of her sexy breasts. Her physical appearance was matched by her mental stance, I very soon found. She passed the time of day, what she was doing the rest of the day, when supper would be ready and other necessary but avoiding tactics. She didn't give one glimmer of last night's sexual interludes. She didn't even refer to Dawn. Apparent impasse. I decided, at least for this morning, to go along with her avoidance, at least until suppertime. I didn't know what I would do then, except to let it take its course. Mum went out about twelve. I decided to remain indoors for the day. That's what I thought at the time anyway. Soon after Mum departed the phone rang. At first I thought to ignore it but it could have been Mum. In fact, it was Dawn. "Is that Ian?" "Hello Dawn, yes it's Ian." "I see you are on your own Ian. Can I come and see you or would you like to come here?" "Perhaps, I should come to you Dawn, don't you think?" "Yes, Ian that's probably wise." "When would you like me to come round Dawn?" "How about now Ian?" "I'll be five minutes dawn." "Thanks so much. Bye for now." Still in my track suit and trainers but not bothering with underwear, I knocked on her door. She opened it partially and standing mostly behind it, she invited me in. she was still in her night gear. But looked as if she had made some effort for my appearance, having presumably put some lipstick on and brushed her hair. She was wearing a silk dressing gown that came to her knees with a tight cord round her waist, making her breasts look rather fulsome. She wasn't wearing a bra for they did swing rather low in contrast to how I had previously seen her. I could just discern the outline of her nipples against the tightness of her gown because of that belt. Nice for a Sunday morning. At least for me. Best of all when she walked into the living room I noticed stockings, tights? In addition, she was wearing high heeled canvass shoes with ties round her raised ankles that added tautness to her calves. She had gone to some preparation for this meeting. But I also noticed she had been crying a lot as her face was flushed and her eyelids heavy. "You rang me Dawn. Are you ok?" "Not really Ian. I think I've been hard on Jean." "Do you?" "Yes, I have. She must be furious with me Ian." "Why might that be Dawn?" I was determined not to be a conduit for them or convey Mum's hurt. "I was jealous Ian, of you, in fact." "What would make you jealous of me, I'm only her son." "When I came in the kitchen that day I thought you were touching her up." I didn't tell Dawn that I did have a swollen cock but that would have been an honest account. "Only later Ian did I realise she is just fond of you and that you had been estranged before your father died." I decided to get closer."Are you and Mum an item Dawn?" "Not really. Not yet anyway. But I would like to. Does that shock you Ian?" "Why should it Dawn? You're both attractive women. The idea of it is rather lovely, I'd say." She smiled at that and crossed her legs, showing off her lovely legs and the hose and canvass heels. "Well Dawn, if it were not complicated round Mum, I'd fancy my chances myself." She folded her arms under her breasts and almost involuntarily squeezed them, pressing those nipples hard against her silk gown. "What does 'not yet' mean then?" "A long story. You want me to tell all?" she saw more than acquiescence on my part. "Whilst you father was in hospital, Jean would get home rather late in the evening. We had been friends ever since I moved in a year ago after my divorce. One evening when she returned I heard her getting her keys out and opened my front door, to offer her a drink and a chat. She hesitated but then agreed. We soon got a little tiddly sitting on this couch. After about an hour we got round to talking about our emotional and sexual lives, or rather the lack of them. It was then I shocked her by mentioning my little friend, I called my little beaver. Yes I can see you know what I mean Ian. Well she then kept asking me loads of questions, how often did I use it, where, how, when I was in what mood and when did I get it. So I suggested she have a look at it. As it happened it was in the folds of the couch, and she was nearest. So I told her to reach for it. She reached down and pulled it out. Would you like to see my little friend Ian?" "Love to Dawn." With that she reached for it and stroked it warmly in her hands. "Well Ian, I let her play with it but then said it comes alive. She looked uncertainly at me and it. I must admit I was amazed at her naivety, but there we are. Anyway I suggested she turn the base like this and whoopee it comes alive." But she then switched it off, presumably not wanting to embarrass me, muttering about saving batteries. "Jean and I drifted away from the vibrator theme and she put it down on the coffee table. She then went into a long story about how deprived she had allowed herself to be in recent years with her hubby lacking interest in all matters sexual including her. I asked her if she looked after herself. She looked embarrassed and replied that she felt guilty doing it but occasionally did when she found herself on her own. So I then went into how she should look after herself with or without a vibrator. She then went quiet on me." "Jean you need some tlc. Let me come and give you a cuddle. Before she could react I was beside her and just held her. She didn't resist even though she wasn't aware of my intentions. Ian I had already made up my mind I wanted her. I know you must be aware of that. I just held her body next to me and her head in my hands. She collapsed in a shed load of tears, grief and eventually relief that she had someone to share. She then told me that she had been told your father didn't have long to live. This was the real story that night. Even though I was gasping for her and soaking wet, I just couldn't breach her boundaries. So I consoled her. Eventually she said she had better say goodnight. We kissed lightly on our cheeks. I followed with a peck on her lips. As she had put her coat on, I pressed my little friend into her hand, saying, "don't say no Jean just take it and borrow it for the night or as long as you want." She went all shy on me and disappeared. "Quite a story Dawn." I crossed my legs to disguise the swelling that happened in my trainers with no pants to restrain it. She noticed but said nothing. Without my encouraging her she continued with her story. "Well Ian the day being Sunday she was round in the late morning inviting herself for coffee. We went round the houses then she fished out of bag the vibrator, thanking me profusely for the loan of it. So I probed her as to how she found it. She just glowed. I hadn't seen her so happy in months. So I asked where she had used it. Naughty question but eventually she answered in a roundabout sort of way, but I then realised she had used it on her clit. So I asked how many times she had cum. blushing again, four times. I smiled and got up to hug her. She was much warmer and relaxed with me this time. I shared with her how comforting it could be when alone, but that there was nothing like someone else's hand or mouth when it came down to it. She stiffened in my arms when I mentioned a mouth but didn't shy away from me. She then asked me if my husband had done those things to me. I replied no and then asked her if hers had. He hadn't either. I left it there for her to mull on." "You're a naughty one Dawn, aren't you." "And what about you Ian? You didn't look very platonic that day I came into the kitchen and caught you with her in your arms. "That's for you to decide Dawn." "That means yes. You do fancy your own mother Ian." She came out with that statement as if she had prepared it well before. I didn't reply. "Your silence tells me all." I decided to turn it on her. "So that makes both of us Dawn." Her turn to smile. "Would you like the rest of the story Ian?" I nodded. "Well the evening of the funeral, I was with Jean after that incident in the kitchen. She was in grief and had come out of it and was very warm in her cuddling of me. I thought she was getting off on it and decided to kiss her properly and full on. She remained impassive. I held back my fury given what I had been to her. I went home so angry. When she just 'popped round' next morning I let rip and told her to fuck off. I was fed up with her lack of comprehension as to how I felt. And sent her off with my anger at its worst. I can be very angry Ian and she got it in full measure." "Anyway, I've calmed down now and you've helped me Ian, particularly now I know we both want her. We should work out a way of sharing her. What do you think?" "You're a dirty bi-sexual?, woman Dawn. I like it. We may have more in common than we realised." "Well we certainly have your mother in common. How can you help me Ian and my help you?" "Dawn, I will say we had a conversation today to help soothe things. But Dawn I am more interested in what's going on between us now." "So what might that be Ian?" "I've noticed how nicely you've done yourself out today Dawn. Quite the sexy little kitten in that outfit. The only thing I couldn't work out is whether there tights or stockings?" "Guess." "Stockings." She smiled triumphantly. And opened her legs and thighs for me to dwell on her hose up to her cunt and beyond. No panties. I could see the dark outline of her cunt hair. Shit, what a surprise and her so unabashed and brazen with me. I unfolded my legs and let my covered erection have free reign. "Dawn, some rules. We must first decide how private this is between us given we both want her. Right?" "Right Ian. Lets this be a secret between us." We agreed. "What do you want now Ian?" I responded by unravelling my legs and letting her have a clear view of my erection, albeit, covered by my track suit. She looked unabashed at it and commented, "Ian I don't want you to think I've led a sheltered life. I am a really dirty woman who hasn't relied on her fucking wet husband for her sexual life. I haven't even got into my other life, apart from wanting your mother's cunt in my mouth and her hands all over me. She's the first woman I've ever fell for. That's why I was so angry with her when she rejected my desire to make love to her. But at my age I want all I can get. You've come into my life as well. I could cope if you can with us playing whilst we make demands on your Mum." With that she opened her hosed thighs wider and started to use her fingers to stroke her pussy hairs. But whilst she watched my cock stiffening even more as I stared at her flicking fingers, she got impatient and with both hands, tore at the seam over her cunt until she succeeded in accessing her wetness, even though she had ruined the tights. Her fingers wove rapidly into her inner folds and she opened her lips for my inspection. I pushed my track suit trousers below my arse and stood over wanking at her body and taking a liberty and running my free hand over her ample yet slightly droopy breasts still covered by her gown. I was beginning to relish this unexpected foray with Mum's friend who was furiously rubbing her now accessible clit in response to my obscene move to stand over her. "Where do want to cum Ian? Over my face, tits, in my mouth or what?" The doorbell at that moment made its noisy presence felt. Both Dawn and I just getting into a mood of delicious filthy mutual wanking and loving it. "Ian, I have a sneaking suspicion that might be jean. Go upstairs and hide. Whatever happens I'll keep her here with me. Quick now or she may disappear again." We both redressed to a degree of decency as I fled upstairs. Dawn now decent but still looking delectable, went to the front door. Unusually she asked who was there and got a querulous reply from Mum announcing herself. Maybe it was more hesitant a voice. Dawn opened the door just a little, not sure what she was going to face. "Dawn, may I come and talk with you please?" Dawn recalled her anger when she threw Jean out but felt some remorse immediately. The presence of Jean in a light summer frock softened Dawn immediately. "Oh do come in Jean, I'm really glad you've come round to see me." Jean took in Dawn scanning her body in the summer frock she had picked out so carefully as projecting softness and openness to the woman she had had advances from. She didn't want to spoil this occasion with another rejection. With the door closed, they stood very near each other with no more words expressed. Dawn raised her hand to Jean's cheek and caressed it. As soon as she did that, Jean fell into Dawn's arms and lapsed into a flood of tears in relief that she hadn't been rejected. Slowly, Dawn led Jean into the same room she and Ian had been getting off on and was privately relieved she hadn't got the vibrator out with Ian. Ian witnessed it all and it did nothing to dampen his erection. He would have doffed a hat at Dawn's rapid adjustment of her behaviour. He moved again so he could still see what was happening between them. Once in the room and still standing, Dawn lifted Jean's face by her chin. She saw a harrowed woman whose eyes betrayed even more sadness than she had endured. Though truth to say she wasn't as vulnerable as Jean. Taking Jean's cheeks in each hand, she drew her lips to her own and pressed them to her hoped for lover's. Jean responded by bringing her arms round Dawn's back and clinging to her as if it were her only chance. Their tongues sought each other. Mum wasn't holding back and Dawn sensed this. Each others hands were all over buttocks, thighs, waists, shoulders. Now Dawn stepped back to view her lover, still holding her by her shoulders. Dawn decided that now was not the moment for restraint. She was going to put Jean to the test, to assess her commitment, real or feigned. Withdrawing her arms she stood directly facing her. Taking her frock buttons one by one, (there must have been a dozen) she commenced to unbutton her top. First thing she noted was the absence of a bra, but she didn't open her up immediately as she got beyond her breast, merely her delightful cleavage to her drooping breasts (that makes two of us). Continuing and getting what she thought was approval, she came across a lovely pink silk suspender belt, so old fashioned but delightful. Next was the slight plumpness of her lower tummy held in somewhat by her belt. On and down and the first glimpse of hair voluminous and untouched with a very few speckles of grey amongst her dark brown hairs. Then on downwards to soft white thighs, still close together but so inviting and on to her light brown silk stockings held up by those lovely garters. Her unbuttoning was complete. After the Funeral Ch. 02 "Jean I want you to open your frock for me please." Jean took each side of her frock, lifted it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Ian was watching all this from his vantage point outside the room. He didn't let Dawn see him stroking himself at this view of his mother and her new lover. Jean just stood before Dawn a little uncertain of herself but now beyond a point of no return. She stood in her low heels, stockings and pretty suspender belt waiting for a move from Dawn. Dawn moved closer but not embracing jean. Instead she took her right index finger and placed it with firmness on Jean's cunt hairs. With her other hand she took one breast and softly ran the flat of her other hand across Jean's nipple. Simultaneously she licked Jean's lips with her own wet tongue. All this was so brazen to Jean she was not quite sure of Dawn was mocking her vulnerability. She nearly retreated, it was so shameless. Dawn hadn't even opened her gown. Gradually, though this was happening in seconds, Jean tried to detract from herself even though the hands were doing their work on her very effectively. Jean asked if Dawn would like her to undress her. "I'd love that Jean." Jean only had to tug the loose knot that held Dawn's gown together. It immediately gave way. Jean took the liberty of drawing the silk gown apart. She was taken away by the sheer beauty of Dawn's breast, much larger than hers but also sagging more than hers as she was that much older. Scanning her body she took in Dawn's pantyhose and even noted that it was torn at her crotch. She noted that but said nothing. She pushed the gown off her shoulders so they were both near naked but so ravishing together. "Play with me Jean, I need you badly." Jean responded by running her hands tentatively over Dawn's full breasts, teasing her nipples and not regretting her move to come and see Dawn. Dawn took one of Jean's hands and pressed it through the handmade hole created just moments ago for Ian's and her pleasure. Come to think of it where is he now? Jean allowed her hand to be pushed into another woman's cunt for the first time in years since she had been with Joan. Dawn felt wet and wonderful as she explored her swollen clit and lower down to her vagina. Her movements had their effect on Dawn who hadn't remained passive but had recommenced her caressing of Jean's body. Feeling assertive again she moved Jean backwards so that Jean was forced to retreat and fall back onto the couch. Laying her out with her thighs wide open, Dawn ran her hands along Jean's thighs beyond her stocking tops and began licking round Jean's creases between her thighs and hips. Dawn was impatient. She felt a need to seduce her so they would become lovers and so satisfy a long lost need. Taking the succulent bait, Dawn slid her tongue in between those hairy covered but soaking labia into her inner lips and then onto her dark pink mound of flesh she knew instinctively Jean would love. Quickly she brought her to a crescendo as she tongued her deftly around her swollen clit. She quickly found that Jean liked the indirect sliver of her tongue to the direct absorption of Jean's clit on her tongue Jean could not take in that she had finally given her body to Dawn and she had no regrets. As Dawn ran her tongue round her little pinnacle, Jean reacted by letting go as well as holding Dawn's head so she couldn't retreat. Oh Dawn my love, I'm so glad I came to you. Hold me I'm cuming now, now, jesus, fuck, oh yes, yes. She continued screaming although she was slowly winding down from the best cum in years. Dawn slowly withdrew. She knew she had done what she wanted. She hadn't cum herself yet but no hurry. What to do if Ian was still in the house? She looked round and saw Ian in the hallway still wanking. She signalled to him to get upstairs for she sensed Jean had not planned to stay so long, only to make up. Jean did indeed withdraw, apologising for leaving so quickly and so selfishly after having her needs met but not Dawns. She promised to make it up to her and Dawn held her to it. What she hadn't told Dawn was that she wanted to be with her son this evening despite her new found love. Ian came downstairs. Dawn was still in a state of physical disarray and sexual need but she was also aware that Ian must be in a right state. "Ian, do what you were going to do before we were interrupted. Come again soon so we can take our time and fuck cos I want you too." "Are you ok with that Dawn?" "Absolutely Ian. With that he stood over her rather exhausted body and let loose his long delayed sperm over her face and luscious tits. Kissing each other she let him let himself out to his satisfied mother. After the Funeral Ch. 03 Ian ran round the vicinity in the opposite direction from home so as to ensure Mum he had been out for a run. On arrival at home, he had built up a sweat to be convincing. In fact, he had enjoyed his filthy cum over Dawn's face and tits. He would have liked to have more time with her but also wanted to get back to see how his Mum would be reacting to her new lover that afternoon. He found Mum in the kitchen preparing some odds and ends for supper for both of them. She had removed her heels and stockings and was working around the kitchen in her bare feet. Glancing at his Mum from her side he noticed that she had removed her bra as well, for her breasts now had their natural wilt but were still full in her thin frock even though she was displaying them pendulum style. Ian felt a small surge below and began to imagine holding, pinching, sucking them. Jesus, I just dropped my load on Dawn and now Mum's got me going. What is going on? Mum was in a calm and lovely mood, saying little, but happy with me sitting around doing little but sipping a beer from the fridge and whiling away the evening, both grazing rather than eating a full meal. She hadn't even mentioned being at Dawn's this afternoon. He also had a sense that she hadn't washed herself after being with Dawn, just removed her underwear. She bent down to reach into the fridge for another gin and tonic for herself. Her frock tightened round her buttocks. Gorgeous view for her 28 year old son. And no she wasn't wearing panties either, just like this afternoon. So, without even a hint of flirt Mum was just perfectly relaxed from her frantic cum with Dawn. She gave Ian no hint of their sexual sojourns with each other. However, he did notice she had little energy and at one stage she fell into a two minute nap. I decided I would encourage her to go to bed. She looked emotionally exhausted, no doubt from her charged feelings for Dawn. We watched TV for sometime rather desultorily which put her in the mood for bed. Kissing me lightly on my lips she wished me a good night and retired. I decided to watch one of my dvd's I'd shared with Ruth, got nice and horny and then went up to bed myself passing Mum's room on the way. She had left the door slightly ajar and was fully asleep with a light duvet for cover. I rang my dirty Ruth and filled her in on the story so far. I couldn't have had the same story for Janet. She wouldn't have been able to cope with what was going on between Mum and myself. Ruth relished my retelling, particularly the refusal by Mum to recognise what we were up to. I then shared with Ruth what I was thinking of doing tonight. "Ian, go and do it and phone me after and tell me all about it." "Ruth, you were wanking when I phoned weren't you? And you are now cos I can hear the buzzing of your vibrator. Ok I promise to phone you back you delicious wanker." I decided to wear nothing and go to Mum's bedroom. I found her lying on the double bed on her back covered by the duvet. Lifting it carefully, I noted her nightie untied and unravelled, leaving her body totally exposed with her legs conveniently spread as if it were her wish to be taken. But she was gently whispering a little snore. With her partially unravelled from the duvet, I wanted to ensure she didn't wake from being chilled. I just stood there stroking myself taking in her mature form ready for taking and eating. I knelt down between her open thighs and carefully opened her lips to disclose her prominent little clit. Placing my tongue gently at her dark moist flesh I offered a lick. She didn't stir which gave me an estimation of the depth of her sleep. Feeling unencumbered by her dozing I swept my tongue more vigorously across her cunt so as to take in the soft folds around her vagina and up and across her clitoral mass. I felt a slight stirring and then a conscious, 'ah, ah' but nothing else. Running my hand beneath her buttocks I found what I was also looking for, her anal passage. Very slowly and so as not to disturb her I wove my index finger into her tight crevice. I could sense she was now fully awake as she adjusted to the pressure on her arsehole. I soon got into a rhythm with my anal explorer, my clitoral tongue and my spare hand penetrating her vagina. She soon began to roll and move as in a dance between these pressures. I was still very aware of her not responding to me as person or her son, for god's sake but still endeavouring to believe this was some wet dream or external non-human agent bringing her off. I suddenly got angry and decided I would prolong this no longer. With a quick and deft flickering of my tongue along and aside her clit, she let out a wailing but controlled scream that evinced her orgasm. I let it have its full flow, and then quietly withdrew without as much as a murmur from my mother. I had just made her cum and she still couldn't acknowledge it. Phoning Ruth later I muddled my titillation of her with the story whilst unwittingly revealing my anger at her refusal to share what we had done over the last two nights. Ruth picked it up after she had a good wank as I relayed my actions to her. I decided that I wouldn't masturbate but wait to see how I felt in the morning. I did recall my wank over Dawn and that gave me some satisfaction. Bless Ruth for recognising and being empathic with my feelings. I woke in the morning about 7.30 with a raging hardon and the sound of someone, Mum downstairs in the kitchen. Before I could get up there was a tap on my door followed by Mum entering with a morning tea. Still slightly befuddled and with my stiffy hidden under my duvet she came in to place the mug by my bedside cupboard. I did take in what she was wearing. She had entered my room in her nightie, now tied together around her breasts which were vaguely noticeable because of the diaphanous material. Startling though, was the fact that she was also wearing black garters and stockings as well as two inch heels, yet still had to put on panties for I had a good glimpse of the place I had been immersed in last night. The effect was startling. The combination was so incongruous. But then I realised she was going to work in about half to three-quarters of an hour. She smiled and retreated. Unusually, I felt rampant at her disappearing sight. I thought one moment whether I should wank immediately, go to the bathroom and do it or just go downstairs, for I knew she had returned to the kitchen. I got up and started to go downstairs. Stop. I wasn't wearing a stitch and my cock was hard and full from my personal imposed deprivations. Sod it. I decided to continue downstairs. Mum was standing with her back to me at the kitchen table unpacking a cereal packet wearing exactly what she had upstairs. I silently went up behind her and took hold of her hips with a clear view of her buttocks and her clear arse cheeks clasped together. I recalled my anal penetration last night. Another time I thought. Too much to cope with now. However, an urgent need overcame me. Without asking. I ripped her nightie open by simply tearing it at her hips instead of reaching in front of her and untying it as a gentleman might or even of lifting it above her hips. She shrieked "What the hell Ian." she glanced behind her and saw that I was naked. I don't know if she looked down and saw how stiff I was. I pushed her over the table, spilling the cereal all over and on the floor. Seeking her cunt, I pushed a finger between her thighs whilst holding her head and shoulders down and her barely covered breasts squashing the cereal. Once I found her cunt I followed up with my urgent cock at her opening. "Ian please don't we mustn't for god's sake, you must know that please -no." "Look Mum you've been getting off, like last night, trying to ignore the fact that I sucked you off last night. You've sucked me off. I am fed up playing games. We both fucking want each other so fuck here's my cock. Now take it." With that I plunged myself into her warm, wet cunt up to her hilt, given the position I had her in. she continued trying to tell me to stop but her actions were very different. Her hips began to get into unison with my movements so that we were in perfect fucking harmony. "Now give me your hand Mum." I took it and pushed it round her thighs towards her cunt."Now wank away Mum. Let's try and coincide shall we? In a moment she was releasing her cum as she went rigid under me. I found myself holding back as she wound down from her heavy clit induced cum. "Ian, darling what can I say? What about you?" she looked a little sheepish, given her earlier objection about my fucking her. I turned her over so her back was now lying in the cereal. I felt like adding milk as some of it stuck to her chest. Instead I ripped open her nightie to open up her tits. They fell either side of her chest. I returned to fucking her with her watching me do it. She looked at me lovingly. I almost relented but still felt angry at her duplicitous hypocrisy of having sex with me but not acknowledging it. "Oh Ian that's lovely, I never realised fucking could be so wonderful." I kept that in my memory box for the future and continued fucking her aggressively. What was my plot? She was near the end of the table so I could easily slip out and do my filthy actions. I felt that base. Holding her down on her back with her tits flopping on each side of her chest I contemplated what to do. "Mother you've been a calculating teasing bitch to me. You know that don't you?" I started slapping her tits and teasing her nipples. She didn't dissent from my protestations. It was as if she had anticipated it. As I fucked her and surprised at my duration fucking her, I thought about what I was doing and revelled in my joy at finally having her and her willing acquiescence. Now I knew what I wanted. Really. Holding her down, I pulled out of her cunt and stood over her face, which had been prepared for work with foundation, lipstick, the lot. I wanked furiously and angrily over her face, ready to cum and upset her usual plans for work. My spunk splayed over her face, her mouth, nose, eyes, cheeks, with a final dollop all over her hair. That last was naughty as I knew she had little time to prepare for work at the pharmacy now. Glancing at the clock I knew she had ten minutes to get out and be on time. To my utter surprise, she reached for me and kissed her spunky mouth with mine and, "Thank you Ian for taking control. I need it." I let her get up off the mass of cereal and promised I would clear up. She ran upstairs with a zest I hadn't seen for ages and returned two minutes later fully dressed but with sheen on her hair no one would recognise but we shared. She hadn't even washed. At that moment I took her and held her close. She had found her strength and was at one with herself. "Ian, darling, I'm so glad you took control. I've been so anxious about expressing my feelings. Now let's be absolutely honest with each other. I promise I will be with you. Will you fuck me when I come home please?"