I first realized I wanted to sleep with my mother when I was ten years old. My mother wasn't a drop-dead gorgeous woman, but she was very comfortable with her body. She wasn't an exhibitionist by any means, but bathroom doors were never locked when she was bathing or using the toilet. She never minded if one of her children needed to use the bathroom when she was in the tub; it just didn't bother her.
On this one particular day when I was ten, my mother was indeed lying in the bathtub, soaking her then forty year-old body. Arriving home from school, I ran into the house and straight for the bathroom. I had, and still do have, an unusually small bladder, so I wasted no time unzipping my pants as I barged into the bathroom. Nearly having my pre-teen cock in my hand, I was in for quite an eyeful when I saw my mother in all her glory sprawled out in the tub.
"Oh, Mom, I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling my face turn bright red. As many times as this happened, it never failed to embarrass me at least a little bit. I started to turn around and exit the room when she stopped me.
"It's fine, Martin. Do what you need to do," she pleaded.
Reluctantly, I moved towards the toilet and pulled down my pants and underwear far enough to relieve myself. As I did this, I glanced in the wall mirror opposite the bathtub. I saw my mother absent-mindedly squeezing water from a washcloth all over her body. She would occasionally splash water over her pleasantly abundant breasts.
I studied my mother's body. She wasn't much more than 5'4" and maybe 125 or 130 pounds. At the time, she was really still in pretty good shape, having just a slight stomach. Her face was pretty, very Midwestern, which was where she was from. She had brown, slightly curly, shoulder-length hair that was damp from the bathwater. The real highlight of her body, though, was the immaculately groomed mound of hair above what I knew to be her vagina. She epitomized everything that woman was to me at that time.
As my mind regained its awareness, I noticed my dick getting erect. Having just recently discovered "boners", I again could feel my face redden. And I could not for the life of me urinate. I now concentrated on trying to relieve myself. I heard my mother, behind me, still splashing herself with water. I was still unable to go.
I put my hard dick back in my pants as gently as possible and flushed the toilet, trying to give the impression that I had been successful. I washed my hands quickly and glanced once more into the mirror at my mother. My dick grew even larger as I left the bathroom.
"Thanks Mom," I said as I exited.
"That's okay," Mom replied, continuing her relaxing bath.
Nothing similar to that experience ever happened again. My mother's habits never changed, but mine did. As I got older I didn't want Mom catching me ogle her with my eyes. And I ultimately knew it would be wrong to do so. But this all changed more than a dozen years later.
Now at 53, my mother had put on some weight over the last several years. I wouldn't at all call her fat, but she was "thick". Her hips, breasts, thighs and stomach had all gotten wider. Her hair now had streaks of gray in it and her face had acquired a few more lines.
I, myself, had graduated from college and entered graduate school, pursuing a Masters Degree in Eastern Philosophy (quite practical, I know). Towards the end of the summer between my first and second years in grad school, I went back home for one of my nephews' baptisms. It was nice to see all of my family and everything but I was ultimately happiest to see my mother. My father had passed away five years before and, although my siblings were still around town, I worried that she was lonely. Her primary focus in life had always been family and now she was living in the house all by herself.
By the time the baptism and the subsequent activities were over, it was nine o'clock at night. I accompanied my mother back to the house where I spent my childhood. It would be just the two of us in the house for the duration of my stay and that was perfectly acceptable with me. My mother told me she was going to take a bath before she went to bed. This immediately conjured up images in my head of that one fateful day when I was ten and I got erect.
As I unpacked in my room, I could hear Mom start the bath. The sound of water suddenly gave me the urge to urinate. A thought entered my mind. I wondered if my mother would still be as casual as she once was about sharing bathrooms. I figured that no one would be the worse if I gave it a shot.
I walked out of my room and to the bathroom door. I knocked.
"Yes Martin?" Mom answered.
It was a gamble, but I responded, "I'm real sorry, but I was just wondering if I could sneak in and relieve myself right quick like?"
I succeeded: "The door's open," she said.
I opened the door and it was like I was ten again. I saw my nude mother, once again, lying in the bathtub. Her body had changed but the effect she had on me was the same.
"I'm sorry. I'll be quick," I told her.
She seemingly ignored me. I walked to the toilet and took out my hard cock, my hands shaking nervously. I aimed it into the toilet and nearly strained myself trying to piss. As I tried to urinate, I looked into that well-positioned mirror and saw my mother. Her eyes were closed, her body resting. I saw her stomach rise up and down and her breasts jiggle slightly as she breathed in and out.
Like my earlier experience, I decided to give up and fake my urination. I gingerly placed my dick back in my pants, flushed the toilet and proceeded to wash my hands. I was about to leave the room when a streak of boldness hit me. I walked to the bathtub and sat down on the edge. I knew my mother must have known I was right there, but she did not react. She just laid there with her eyes shut.
My eyes flew over her body. Just like I remembered, plus 30 or so pounds distributed nicely. Since my father's passing, my mother apparently hadn't been keeping up with her grooming as well, though. My mother's pubic hair was no longer immaculately groomed. The once small mound of hair had spread to twice the mass it was before. And it looked glorious on her body.
As I look back on it now, I have no idea what could have been running through my mind, but something possessed me to venture further. With my hands still nervously shaking, I reached out towards my mother's breasts and slowly started to caress them, fondling the two beauties gently. I looked at my mother's face for some kind of reaction: delight, disgust, fury, something, anything...but no reaction. I wasn't absolutely sure she wasn't sleeping.