A Different Kind of Boot Camp
Chapter 1: My New Mother

Caution: This Young Adult Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, BiSexual, Fiction, Humor, Incest, Mother, Son, Rough, Light Bond, Humiliation, Gang Bang, Group Sex, Interracial, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Fisting, Sex Toys, Squirting, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Double Penetration, Size, School, Prostitution, Nudism, Porn Theatre,

Desc: Young Adult Sex Story: Chapter 1: My New Mother - When my mother suggested we go on a six month sexual training camp, I was ready to call an ambulance, not knowing how this time should change my life forever.


Normally the fastest way to the airport would have been to use the Messeschnellweg and then a short stint on the Autobahn, but that logic doesn't apply when the summer holidays are on, so I was slogging through the city towards Hannover-Langenhagen. That gave me time to think about the upcoming reunion with my mother. Reunion is perhaps a bit of a big word, considering she'd only been to Switzerland for twelve weeks, but even though I was eighteen already, that was the longest I'd ever been separated from her.

I love my mom, no doubt about that, but don't think I've been sitting at home moping. Having the house to myself for three months? Puleeze, which young guy would not love that. Granted, most other guys would have had female companionship, or parties, probably constantly. I'm pretty sure I was the only virgin in our class, and I have my damn brains and my stepfather to thank for that. There were no parties with a platoon of hookers or anything, I had used the chance to go naked for all that time without mom thinking I'm weird. It's my guilty pleasure – sue me.

Mom and I were born in East Germany. My father died in 1987 in a car accident. From today's perspective it's surprising that our family's Trabant had gone fast enough to have a crash in the first place, but the thing had no safety features beyond seat belts and the guilty party in this accident had been a drunk tram driver, who'd thought he had right of way because his vehicle weighed thirty tons.

I was only nine at the time, so the fall of the Berlin wall in 1989 and the reunification of Germany a year later are things that I didn't quite understand yet in their enormity. What I did understand was why we were suddenly moving to the west. Mom had worked in a kolkhoz, so that job went out of the window when the wall went down. She found work as a florist in Hannover and soon she met Gerd, the owner of the chain of flower shops she was working for. They got married in 1994 and I was actually quite happy, because at the time I thought my mom was too young to be without a husband and second, because Gerd was wealthy, I mean REALLY wealthy.

But it soon turned out mom was little more than a Trophy wife. Not in the sense that my stepfather didn't love her, but, Jesus, he made the pope look like someone from Sodom and Gomorrah. I was too young to think about that at the time, but I bet mom had never gotten any other sex than a quick missionary bang with the lights turned off, if even that. He loved mom, but he wasn't very expressive about it. And he accepted me like his own son. He wasn't a bad man. Not at all, but he had all the passion of a dead fish.

With no-one to admire her, mom stopped caring about her look. She wasn't badly groomed or anything, but while other women were working out to avoid getting bigger or keeping gravity from messing up their boobs, mom left it at making sure she was eating healthy. As a result, she had developed a tiny bit of a tummy and gravity had dragged her boobs down pretty badly. But who was there to notice but me?

Not that I made up for my stepfather's unwillingness to sate her desires. Incest is as illegal in Germany as it is elsewhere in the world. But seeing my mom naked wasn't a rare occurrence. Sometimes she would call from the bath, asking me to bring her a bathrobe or a towel or she would walk back from the bathroom to the bedroom topless. Of course only when my stepfather wasn't home. He was so uptight he would have freaked at the thought of a son seeing his mother without clothes, which is ridiculous. If you want to make sure that your son doesn't start fantasizing about his mother, make sure that he grows up with seeing her naked occasionally so he'll learn that it is perfectly normal.

For me she had always been mom. That she was a woman was a biological fact, but I had never seen her as a sexual being. I can't remember having ever gotten as much as an erection seeing her. As harshly as it sounds, but I guess my mom's lack of motivation to do much about her aging process may have had to do with it as well. By the time I was fourteen and started to look at female bodies with different eyes, mom was thirty-four and she'd not aged well.

A year ago, not too long after my seventeenth birthday in 1997, after only three years of marriage, mom and my stepfather came to the conclusion that they had simply drifted apart and got divorced. It was a rather amicable split. We got to keep the estate and the big house and dad even sold his business to mom for the symbolic price of one Deutschmark, which redefines the term generosity as it makes double digit numbers of millions every year. In compensation he got two thirds from the family's bank-account, but the remnants were still somewhere around twenty million. With this generous starting capital, he emigrated to America, where he was right at home with his prudish lifestyle. But as I said, it was an amicable split and they still call each other on their respective birthdays and he gives mom advice if she runs into a snag with the business.

I finally arrived at the last roundabout and turned my concentration back to the road. The driveways into Hannover airport can be tricky and it's easy to end up at departures when you wanted to go to arrivals and vice-versa. Today it was arrivals and I parked the car right across from the exit of Terminal B. There was still some time before mom's flight from Zurich would arrive, so I could go up to the viewing platform.

Mom had surprised me three months prior when she sat me down and explained that she wanted to change her life radically. She told me that at thirty-eight she still had a few good years ahead and wanted to use them. It had been a talk that spanned most of the evening and involved the consumption of wine in generous amounts. I don't know if it was the booze or if she had planned to do so, but mom had been VERY straightforward that day and also admitted her sexual frustration of many years.

The details about mom's love-life or lack thereof had actually been a bit too graphic for my liking, but I was happy that she'd decided to book six weeks in a beauty farm in Switzerland. Considering that she'd paid more than she would have for staying in the ritziest hotel in town, I wondered if she was getting her personal pool boy included who would take care of her sexual frustration. She even seemed to have made a friend as she talked increasingly more and more about some guy called Andy in our email exchange. It didn't seem to be something romantic. More like a guy friend.

Little did I know what awaited me when I saw the jet of Swiss Airlines sail down the glide path. Waiting until I could see that it had landed safely I left the platform and made my way towards Terminal B.

I started to wonder just how many people could have been fitted in that small airplane as one person after the next left through the gate and none of them was my mother. I took out my mobile, checking if I had perhaps missed a call or a message that she'd be on another flight, but there was nothing. When the next person stepped out I knew it was not mom, who walked out, but I didn't mind. For the moment I was distracted by that stunning creature. There was no pink-coloured Samsonite on her baggage trolley, so it couldn't be my mother. The only thing that bomb shell had in common with my missing parental unit was the hair – long pitch-black hair. Europe is pretty liberal in comparison to most parts of the world, but what that girl – perhaps twenty-five – was wearing bordered on the scandalous, even here.

Her jeans, if it were jeans, could just as well have been a body painting and I wasn't sure that that guess was so far off. They tightly hugged her long shapely legs and from what I could see from the distance, a pert little arse as well. But that was nothing in comparison to the tight blouse she was wearing, with a neck line almost down to the navel and a cleavage that redefined the meaning of 'copious'. Her knockers were very substantial to say the least. Don't ask me about the face, I wouldn't have noticed it if she'd worn a horse-mask. My eyes were glued to the most amazing tits I'd ever seen.

She sauntered past me and winked at me, making me gasp. Women of that level of hotness NEVER winked at me, I turned around to look a little longer and she slowed down, looking back at me as well.

"Should I go home without you, Martin?" she asked with a giggle.

If you find a dent in the floor of Hannover airport's Terminal B – that's where my jaw dropped like a lead balloon.

I looked at her and then it dawned on me. That was MOM. She wasn't anything like I remembered her and quite obviously she had not only lain in a tub full of mud, her face plastered with cucumber slices for twelve weeks. Her nose looked different, the wrinkles were gone, but there was still the little mole right next to her nose that had always been her running gag, claiming she was Cindy Crawford's lost twin. And, fuck me sideways, now she was definitely looking the part.

I hugged her, more on instinct than anything else. Hell if that girl was an imposter, good ol' virgin me had at least gotten a hug from a chick that was even hotter than the weather outside. I tried not to be too conspicuous, when I put my hand in my pocket, trying to re-arrange my hard-on to a less obvious position, which is not easy when you're cursed with a rather large appendage.

That's right, it's a curse. You may be a guy wishing to have a bigger one – don't. Nothing is as humiliating as a girl offering to take you to bed and then she starts to cry and runs off because she's scared of what you've just unpacked. Happened to me. That's why I was still a virgin.

We walked to the car in silence all the while mom was smiling and I was horrified that she'd seen the bulge in my pants and tried to steal secret glances at it.

"Want me to answer the obvious question you're too polite to ask?" she inquired as I pulled out of the parking lot. Surprised by her directness I managed a very dignified answer of 'uh'.

Mom just giggled. "Okay, the obvious one is the boob job. I wanted something smaller but then they would have sagged from the start. Then, lipo-suction to get rid of my tummy, firm up my arse and to make my thighs look like something you don't find on an elephant. The nose job to get rid of that ugly honker in my phizog and a bit of lifting, but not too much. Just enough so I don't look like Winnetou's tobacco bag anymore."

"I like your nose, it looks cute," I blurted out, but mom surprised me again, when she snorted.

"Martin Fentner, I just walked out there with boobs that make me look like a melon smuggler. Are you really trying to tell me you've noticed my nose first?"

"Well, I tried to be polite," I admitted with a blush. "It's not easy to admit that you get turned on by your own mother. It's just wrong."

She only giggled again and let me continue the drive home. I was completely shocked. My own mother, who had neglected her body for years, was looking like an utter bombshell. I'm a bit of a medium-sized boob-man, normally not interested in big knockers, but even without having seen them in their full glory, that sorry excuse for a blouse left little doubt that whoever had sculpted mom's new Bristols definitely knew what he or she was doing.

I offered mom to stop at a restaurant, but she declined, saying that she had eaten before the short flight from Switzerland. Once home, I carried her luggage to her bedroom, but she asked me to leave it there as, in her words, there would be ample time to unpack. Instead she went down to the wine cellar and came back with two bottles of the most expensive French wine we had. There were people who lived a whole month on what one bottle cost. Putting down two glasses, mom assumed a lotus position on the couch, facing me.

All my brain capacity was below my waistline as mom had undone one more button on her skimpy blouse and it became obvious that she was not wearing a bra. She showed even more of that massive cleavage. It was strange seeing mom so youthful. She truly looked more like twenty-five, especially since the plastic surgery wasn't as obvious as with some of the celebrities you see. She didn't have her lips bloated for instance, in fact they were the same thin lips she'd always had and I think it looked good on her. And she still had more than two different face expressions as she had obviously forgone the use of Botox. There was no other way to say it, mom was mind-bogglingly beautiful - and sexy as hell. My eyes were practically glued to the bits of her mammary flesh showing.

Until this day I don't know how I managed not to dribble when she suddenly unbuttoned her blouse and exposed her humongous new breasts. "Like them, baby?"

"Wow," I uttered and without thinking – not that I was capable of coherent thought at that point – I leaned forward and touched them, gently kneading the large orbs, enjoying the feeling of her nipples growing against my palms. It took me a while until I realized I was fondling my mother's naked breasts and my hands shot back as if her boobs were red-hot. Mom just smiled and put her glass back on the table. While I was still trying to find a suitable apology, she turned around, leaning back against my chest and guided my arms around her torso, putting my hands back on her large knockers.

"Massage them for me, baby, from the base towards the nipple. It's needed to settle the implant properly."

"I'll probably need both hands," I quipped to gloss over my nervousness. "God mom, your tits are amazing. I thought they'd feel like plastic."

"I've spent a lot of money on the best implants possible," she said, sipping her wine with closed eyes and leaning a bit further into me. The reasons for that became obvious when I realized that I was no longer massaging her boobs like I was supposed to, instead I was fondling and twisting her nipples. Her hand was shaking and she nearly knocked the glass over when she put it back on the table. Mom's hands covered mine as she leaned further into me. My nose was buried in her black hair, picking up the sweet scent of her shampoo. With her hands covering mine, mom gently directed me how to stimulate her sensitive nipples. Her heavy breathing was giving instant feedback that I was doing it right.

I was well aware that what I was doing was utterly wrong, but the still lingering shock over mom's spectacular transformation and the look of utter contentment on her face prevented me from stopping what I was doing. That went on for many minutes, me happily caressing mom's beautiful nipples and she was moaning and whimpering in pleasure. The sheer thrill of making a drop-dead gorgeous woman feel so good made me completely forget that I was fondling my own mother. I had practically no idea about sex other than what I'd seen in internet porn and read in text books, but somehow it must be hard-wired into the male brain to do something when a woman seeks intimate relief.

Continuing to work on her left boob, my right hand glided down her now flat belly. On autopilot I unbuttoned her tight jeans. Not saying a word, mom just lifted her butt and pushed jeans and panties down a bit to expose her naked pussy. The thick black bush she'd sported all her life was gone, her pussy now completely bald.

My fingers explored her nether region, seeking for the clit where the biology textbook said it should be. I was surprised how small it was when I found the little nub, at least I thought I'd found it as mom arched her back.

"Yes baby, yes that's good."

Feeling a rush of euphoria about doing it right I circled the little nub with my thumb and plunged my index and middle fingers into her wet opening.

"God, baby, yes. Finger your mom, make me feel good. I've waited so long for this."

I could see mom was actually starting to cry. She was completely beside herself. At the moment though I knew only one target – I wanted to make mom feel good and I continued fingering her. A few minutes later she cried out at a volume normally reserved for starting jet planes and my hand was showered with a liquid splashing from her pussy in short spurts.

I held her for a long time as mom kept silently weeping and I started to wonder if it was in horror over what we'd just done.

"I'm sorry, mom," I whispered and took my hands off her breasts. I was surprised when she almost desperately put them back.

"Never be sorry for what you just did, baby. I had to wait almost twenty years until someone made me feel that good. I knew you would be able to."

I nearly lost it, coughing as I inhaled some of my own saliva into the wrong chute. "Shit, mom. That wasn't an accident?"

She stood up, pushed her pants and panties all the way down, stepped out of them and chucked off the opened blouse. She sat back down on the sofa, facing me, completely naked. She sipped from her wine.

"No. That wasn't an accident. I'd hoped that my new make-over would make you realize that your mom is a woman. Your stepfather never made that discovery."

"Woman?" I snorted. "Mom, you're a complete and utter bombshell. Anyone missing that must be dead. I didn't even recognize you at the airport."

"That's because you expected a chubby old woman with a horse's arse and a huge boxer-nose in her face," she said with a giggle. "I had a tummy, my tits were at my navel and I had more hair on my pussy than a grizzly around his nut sack. Let's face it, I was uglier than the night."

I coughed again.

"Jeez mom, did they do surgery on your brain, too? You've never talked dirty like that."

She threw her head back and laughed, her new big tits bouncing to the rhythm of her amusement. Suddenly she went serious though.

"Martin, things are going to change. I've spent nearly two millions to make myself look much younger than my age, and I did that for a reason. I've been sexually neglected all my life. Your father was gentle and loving, but he didn't know much more than missionary and doggy style and byrely touched me anymore after your birth, and your stepfather made a pastor look like a porn star. I want to go wild. I waxed my pussy so men would want to plunder it like a desperate pirate. I want to be fucked in the ass, the mouth, my pussy – preferably all at the same time."

"Good grief, mom! You can't say these things to my face!"

"Why?" she asked, feigning innocence.

I blushed – badly, but my brain had other ideas. "B-because I might be tempted to get you started on that," I blurted out. "Fuck, have you any idea how much it takes me to refrain from just fucking the bloody shit out of you? And now you're saying all those things. I'm not supposed to have these thoughts. You're sitting right in front of me stark naked for crying out loud."

"And you seem to appreciate the view," Mom chirped and massaged my raging erection that was barely contained by my boxers. It proved to be too much and I made a horrible mess of myself by cumming in my pants. I was still grunting like a caveman, when mom pulled my pants down.

"Almost nineteen years old, and still needs mommy to clean up his mess," she giggled and I looked on dumbfounded as mom started to lick my soiled nether region clean. She didn't miss a single drop. When she was done I couldn't have been cleaner if I had taken a shower and I couldn't have been harder if I was made from steel. I looked at her, too stunned to say anything.

"That bush has to go," mom decreed, running her fingers through my pubic hair. "It'll make you look bigger and I won't have hair in my mouth when I blow you."

I snorted in frustration. "The last thing I need is making myself look bigger," I said bitterly. "The last girl ran screaming and warned all her friends not to come near me."

"That was Nicola," mom theorized, gently stroking my erection. I just nodded, enjoying the feeling of her hand massaging me.

"Mark, you have what many men dream about – a really big cock. But some women are all talk. When they see it in person and realize they have to take something like that in, they panic. You need to learn how to use it. You can't just stick it in, expecting that it'll fit. You need to be gentle."

"Know any 'how do I use my large dick' seminars?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know one," she said, still jacking my cock as if that was the most normal thing to do. "It's taught by Professor Doctor Mom. We both need and want to explore our own sexuality, baby."

"B-but you're my mom!" I protested.

"So what? Who could love me more than my own son? And who could love you more than your own mother? Would you rather see me give my anal virginity to someone I barely know?"

"Shit, mom, don't talk like that or I may just get started on that!"

She giggled. "Well, I'll have to clean myself back there, or you'll be stirring shit in the literal sense. But soon, son of mine, you're going to pop mom's anal cherry, got that?"

It looked like mom was hell-bent on having sex with me and I reckoned I could just as well accept it, because after looking at her spectacularly remodelled body for an hour I was as horny as the neighbour's dog.

"Suck me mom!" I growled and she didn't even flinch. Mom leaned forward and gulped down my throbbing meat.


God, he almost exploded my head! It had been my second blowjob in as many days, the first one I'd given Andy during my stay in Switzerland the day before, at least I think it was Switzerland. I don't know how long Martin had been 'saving up', but the sheer amount of spunk he spray-painted my throat with gave me a good idea that the poor boy had not been getting much action lately – if ever.

Martin was lying on his back, his look completely dreamy and I realized he'd probably never had someone blow him. Did that boy have any sexual experience at all?

"Martin, was that your first blowjob?" I asked, washing down his payload with a glass of wine.

"Mom, unless you count my hand, that was my first of anything," he admitted and my heart skipped a beat. There was also an element of anger. How could all of those girls have ignored him? He wasn't ugly. He was well built and I realized that this frightened teenage bitch had probably scared him away from making any advances on other girls. I bet she had been bragging with her friends how she wanted a man with a large cock and when she had gotten one she ran screaming.

"Martin, I want you to come with me the next six months," I said, having made my decision.

"Where mom?"

"When I was in Switzerland I met this man I told you about. His name is Andreas, or Andy as he likes to be called. Like us he's ... wealthy and many other women who have a lot of money, face the same problems as I. You either have a husband who's too hung up on making even more money or you have a husband who loves your money more than you."

"And that ... Andy 'takes care' of such women?" he asked and I could hear a distinct edge of jealousy in Martin's voice. That was just too cute.

"No. What Andy does is running a 'circle of friends' where women can get what they need. I want to go to one of his estates and train to become a porn actress."

Martin shot up like a bullet. "You fuckin' what?"

I had to giggle, seeing him so scandalized.

"Baby, I'm not going to perform for some 5 quid porn site on the internet. Andy produces ... um ... films for his exclusive clientèle and I want to perform in them. I'm thirty-seven. I want to make up for lost time. I want to be fucked every day until I can't take it anymore. But we'll talk about that tomorrow. Now I think I want your virginity and I want that big tool of yours where it belongs – my pussy. Come on stud."


I woke up on the couch with a slight hangover and my memory started coming back to me. Oh my god! I had fucked my own mother. Granted, it had been she, who had initiated it, but what if it had just been the alcohol and she was now having second thoughts? I desperately needed to find her and talk about this.

But mom was nowhere to be found. Instead I found a note fastened to the fridge door.

Hi baby,

I've gone shopping and will be out until afternoon. Could you please reload the dish washer when the current batch is through? It's all pre-sorted on my bed and the program on the machine is set. Thanks,

love you,


PS: Don't fret over last night. It was fantastic. We'll talk later.

I looked around for my boxers, but mom had put the soiled garment away, so I just stayed naked. Heck I'd gone naked for three months and 'new mom' didn't seem to have had much quarrels with domestic nudity the night before.

As she'd written, the new load for the washing machine was already sorted. When I turned to go, I saw a video tape in her open half-unpacked duffel. That was odd, I thought as I made my way to the bathroom. Mom never liked watching TV much and she certainly hadn't bought any video tapes before. I doubted she did even know how to use the VCR. Most peculiar. Had really everything about my mother changed? I hardly seemed to know her anymore.

Once the washing program was running, I went back to investigate the mysterious tape. I took it out of the case. There was a nondescript label on it saying "Linda B Luscious: Indoctrination".

Linda B. Luscious? Indoctrination? If that was supposed to be the name of a porn star and one of her films, the writer should have entertained the prospect of a job change. Even someone as clueless as I could have come up with something more interesting. Had mom not talked about wanting to make porn flicks? Had she perhaps done one already? I mean the logical jump from Lena to Linda wasn't so long.

Intrigued I walked down to the living room and put the tape in the VCR, pressed play, and went over to the fridge and fetched a beer, just in case I'd need one. And I did, very much. It seemed to have no intro as when I sat down I saw a sofa in what looked to be a ridiculously luxurious suite and on the sofa sat mom – stark naked. According to the time stamp it was barely thirty hours old. But something was wrong about mom. Her eyes were closed and she picked at her eyelids.

"Hello Lena," a voice with a soft Swiss accent said from the background. By the sound of it he was standing behind the camera. "Welcome to my world."

"Andy? Why were my eyes taped shut? It doesn't come off, it's like super-glue. How do you want to remove this without ripping my eyelashes and eyelids off?" she asked and I could hear the fear in her voice.

"I will soon explain about that, and you don't need to worry. The doctor has the necessary solvent. They will simply fall off. The strips I mean, not your eyelashes."

The camera zoomed in on mom's eyes and only in an extreme close-up shot one could see the nigh-on invisible narrow strip of clear tape that welded mom's eye's shut. What was that shit all about?

"Should we get the business part out of the way?"

Mom nodded and I heard rustling of paper from behind the camera.

"I see you have filled out the affirmation that you were brought here on your own free will. You were neither influenced nor coerced. Is that correct?"

"Yes," mom confirmed and I saw her attempts to 'look' in the right direction, but she always ended up facing somewhere left or right of the camera.

"You know the purpose of this meeting? Have you rehearsed the necessary announcement?"

"Yes. I shall administer sexual gratification under compromising circumstances for the purpose of recording. Either of us keeps an identical copy to make sure neither side uses his or her knowledge to blackmail the other."

"Very well, Lena, shall we begin?"

I couldn't believe my eyes. What in the name of all that's holy was this shit all about?

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