My mother and I were never close, oh she cared for me, with little sign of affection passed between us. Her affections and attention were lavished on my younger brother of four years, who was a chronic asthma sufferer and was always classified as 'delicate', whereas I was big and sturdy and could take care of myself.
I couldn't leave home quick enough to carve a life of my own and try to find someone who would show me the affection I had missed. I had many women friends, but none even came near to what I was looking for. In fact I found that most of the women I met were more concerned on what material things I could supply them with than providing affection. My estimation of women plummeted to an extent I classified them all as leeches.
So with this frame of mind I applied for a position with a company in the remotest part of Oman where the Muslim faith is strongest. For five years I cut myself off from almost any female contact and accrued more money through good investment and wages that I would be comfortable for the rest of my life.
In that time I had become taller, and fitter than many of my age group, avoiding alcohol and smoking. The only pastime was working out in a gym and studying.
I decided the five year stretch was long enough and I needed a break. I could easily have stayed in a hotel, but instead I headed home to my family.
I pulled up outside the family home about one in the morning, all the lights were out and the house was in darkness. There was no other way to gain entry, so I rang the doorbell and in a few minutes it was opened by my father, with my mother behind him.
"Oh Frank, it's you," my mother cried pushing my father aside as she rushed and threw her arms around my neck hugging me, showing affection never shown in the past. "Oh come in son. Why are we standing here on the front porch, come on in. Oh my look how tall and wide he is dad," she added as she and my father looked up at my six feet six frame.
"What to hell did you do to get so big lad," he exclaimed, looking up from his five ten height, which I used to think was huge.
"Clean-living I suppose," I answered, dropping my cases in the hallway.
We sat and chatted for about an hour and then my father went to bed leaving my mother and I in the kitchen. "Oh Frank, I have missed you, why didn't you write more often? Three letters in five years isn't much is it," she asked with tears showing in her eyes.
I got up and hugged her, again something I never remembering doing before. Now I felt her body against mine, with only her thin nightie covering her body. Also this was the first woman I'd held close in over five years and my body responded such. Getting a hard-on over your own mother was never intentional, but here I was with my hard member pressed between our bodies. Of course she had to feel it; nine and a half-inch with the same circumference cock was something one found difficult to hide.
Instead of pulling back she pressed her body harder and was even moving her hips pressing her lower body against it.
I took another liberty I never thought I would ever do, I pulled up her nightie at the back and slid my hand between her legs until I found her moist pussy. My mother was almost dripping wet as I slid my two fingers into her hot and eager pussy. As I entered she pressed her lips harder against mine and let out a sigh.
"Frank, I'm your mother," she said just moving her mouth slightly away from mine. She was looking up at me with big doe eyes.
"Want me to stop. I will if you want me to," I said with my hand still between her legs.
"Don't be a bloody fool, but I would rather have the thing I feel against my body than your fingers there," she said brazenly.
.... There is more of this story ...