I had been relating a story which began when I was 3 1/2 years old up to when I was 16. It was about the strange relationship I had had with my mother who initially allowed me to breast feed along with my my little sisters when I asked her if I could do that too. Later, at the age of about 10 years, I had gotten particularly horny and went to her bedroom and asked if I could "do that again," since she was still nursing the most recent arrival--the fifth since I had first asked her the same thing. It was on that occasion when I "accidentally" penetrated her vagina while squirming around on top of her while she let me suck her nipples.

I had only been trying to rub my penis on her like I had done when smaller since I had discovered that I could have wonderful sensations "down there" when doing it. Of course, now I could experience orgasms. I think she must have gone into shock and really didn't know what to do at the time. At the age of ten, I was a lot more aware of things and had even discovered masturbation, but had not planned on actually trying to do what happened. But, it happened and nothing came of it since it was not repeated. Life went on as usual.

About a year later, I began to ejaculate when masturbating and resorted to using socks to not make a mess on my bed or the floor. She discovered those socks in the back of one of my bureau drawers and decided to confront me with the fact and give me a lecture on the evils of such a habit. She sincerely believed all that crap about "going blind," or "losing my marbles" if I kept it up.

I was the only boy in a family with 11 girls. My mother, being a child of the 19th century and whose folks were deeply religious, had learned that masterbation would definitely do bad things to my mind and body. She was probably an expert in raising girls, but she knew little about what she should do in my case.

While she was chastizing me and warning me of all the terrible things that would happen to me, she saw that I was completely unresponsive (I was so embarrassed that I couldn't talk), so brought up how she used to let me join a baby sister while nursing. I guess she saw that I was so upset that she needed to lighten up a little.

For the first time, I spoke indicating that I had loved to do that and wished I could still do it. Well, one thing led to another, and she decided to let me have access to her breasts again (she was still nursing my latest youngest sister). Again, I ended up on top of her and eventually my peter found its way back home. I remember saying while feeling so exhilarated that if I could do that all the time, I would never masturbate again.

Well, my mother must have seen the solution to my problem--just let her son nurse and he would be OK. For whatever reason, we were both ignoring what was really going on. I ignored it because I somehow realized that I must only refer to what we were doing as breast feeding and nothing else. The fact that my penis was lodged in her vagina during "nursing," was not to be brought up. She would frequently come to my room to "tuck me in" thereafter.

When I was 16, I asked for and got an operation to circumsize my penis. That created a hiatus in our sessions. After a few months, I had returned to masturbating into socks again, and she duly found them. Without repeating all that, I will only say that this got us back on track even though she was no longer producing milk. It made no difference since the major consideration was to save my health.

Although it didn't happen every night, we would have the sessions often enough to keep me fairly chaste in the masturbation department. I think she was checking my bureau drawers to see if I was keeping my end of the deal, so I would use toilet paper when I just couldn't keep my hand away from it. In those days, kleenex and deoderants were still not normal household items.

I remember Ponds being something women would use under their arms and had been sneaking into my sisters' rooms to swipe some for myself. We had a shower downstairs, but only a bathtub upstairs so I normally only took a bath, not a shower, each day. My farm chores had increased, I was still involved in sports, and had not yet ceased to spend a lot of time on art.

Going back to when I was 9 or 10 years old, I remember doing an extensive illustration of Gulliver's Travels. I had received the whole adult version of the book writtern by Swift from one of my older sisters. As Gulliver travelled to all the different kingdoms, I found it loaded with sex. But, I was initially doing the portion about Lilliput. When I got to the point where Gulliver saved their burning city by pissing on it, I went to my mother to ask her how I should illustrate that aspect without drawing his penis since I knew people would object to that.

She suggested I just show his spread legs with a stream of urine pouring down onto the fires as if the observer were standing behind Gulliver. She was not afraid to talk to me about that sort of thing or answer any of my questions. Again, she was an honest, loving, and caring mother who was trying to raise her boy to be open, honest, and safe from certain aspects of sexuality. She simply was working on the basis of many old wives' tales in regard to sex.

I think she was under the impression that males needed to have their libidos relieved (she did have twelve kids), and that it should only happen in the act of intercourse. How she could imagine that ejaculation through masturbation instead of intercourse was detrimental to the body and mind, I don't know. I guess when she first told me about how it had turned the brother of one of her friends into an idiot, I must admit that it gave me a lot to think about when I got those urges. So, for a time, I made sure I had those ejaculations (once I started to have them) only in her while I was "nursing."

While all of this sounds incredible, I should mention that what may appear to be very bad when first done will eventually lose its sinful or guilt laden aspect after continuous repetition. This occurred with me in regard to masturbation and I think it must have occurred to her in regard to our "nursing" sessions. While we were both constrained to not admit what was happening, I believe that in the back of her mind she was thinking that my ejaculations were healthy ones when with her. She must have justified it from the standpoint of saving me from perdition. Again, she was brought up in a different day and age.

But, as I got older, I began to have guilty feelings since I figured I was taking advantage of my mother. It had slacked off somewhat by the time I was 18, and only when I just had to have that "feeling" of her cunt surrounding my rampant penis did I approach her. Only because we had done it so much were we able to ignore what it must have looked like with her lying down while her nearly six foot son nursed on her dried up breasts and eventually ending up in her vagina. Once there, all pretense of sucking tits disappeared and we simply went at it. It was always in the missionary position, and we never kissed. I still didn't know a hell of a lot about a vagina other than that it felt SO GOOD to be in one.

Our sessions never were over with just one fuck. And, I'm sorry now that I didn't know more about the female genitals since only on occasion did she react to show she was having pleasure. But, I never recall her vagina being other than wet. The lips were huge and my groin would squash them apart so that my pubic area and balls got wet. Her hole was tight enough (well, it was the only one I knew) but I had to go long and deep to feel that grip.

Every now and then her cunt would go crazy and squeeze my penis which I now know was its reaction to an orgasm. She would talk to me while we fucked about almost anything, but always asked if I had been good and refrained from self-abuse. I guess it was that inevitable question that made me start to think that I was the bad person in all of this since the nursing sessions were to keep me from doing that.

I was a senior in high school and had to start thinking about going on to college. Believe it or not, but I was very shy around girls. I knew better than to try anything like that when on a date. But, I had very few dates and even my father became concerned that maybe I was not like all the other boys. Other boys would brag about how they were banging this or that girl, but I never believed them. As far as that stuff was concerned, what I had done with my mother was not the same. I knew my situation was VERY unusual, and NEVER ever breathed a word about it to a soul.

You may have wondered how I fared with all those sisters in my family. Yes, I did fantasize about some of them (but not like I did other girls), but was afraid to approach any of them in regard to sex. A couple of them approached me when I was middle aged and there had been some wrestling fun when we were little, but I already had an outlet for my libido.

Later, I did go to college in a town far enough away that I could not stay at home. I came home on some weekends. My mother was very concerned that I would fall back into that habit when away from her for long periods. So, she would be the one to initiate the sessions when I would come home for a weekend. There were no socks for her to check to verify my "clean living."

I really got into the college scene and actually enjoyed going to classes. I had discovered that I had a talent for languages and decided to major in them. Prior to that time, I had fallen in love with flying and thought to do that in the military. So, I became involved in an NROTC program which would provide me with a commission upon graduation.

After I went on active duty, I was not only flying, but was moving to many different places of the country to attend schools, checking out in different aircraft, etc. Now, I was away for even longer periods of time. It was really something to be on my own, have my own apartment, and do whatever I wanted in my free time. Once when explaining my living situation in a letter to my mother, she responded to ask if she could visit me since I didn't seem to be coming home very often.

She had been spending time staying with some of my older married sisters. I wrote her that she was more than welcome to visit (my father had died a few years before). I had a one bedroom apartment, but figured I could sleep on the living room couch. Yes, the idea of just having her join me in my bed came to mind, but didn't want to make any assumptions. It had been a few years since we had done that.

By this time she was 61 and in good health. She was a pleasant looking woman whom I looked upon with real love and affection as my mother. My sisters seemed to have elevated her to the status of a god because of all the things she had done for them and their families. She always seemed to be a little on the plump side, with clear smooth skin and few wrinkles. But, it would have been obvious that she was my mother since I was only 25 years old.

I know it may be hard to believe, but my view of her was that she was first and foremost my dear mother who was generous to a fault, so kind and loving. I simply never looked upon her any other way despite what had taken place. I guess that is why I had gotten those occasional feelings of guilt doing those few "nursing sessions" when I was in college. But, she had made it so easy for me that I almost always succumbed.

She was also a grandmother many times over. Now that I am over 70, the idea of someone only 61 seems still young. Of course, I didn't think that way at the time. In fact, after masturbating, I would resolve to not let us do that anymore (a male's brains return to his head then). But, then maybe she wouldn't want to anyway given her advanced age as I then thought. I picked her up at the airport and we went straight to my apartment where I had prepared a dinner for us.

It really was good to see her. She brought me up to date on all my sisters, nieces and nephews, and how she was getting along. She had sold our house and was now living in the town where I had attended university. There were three younger sisters still living at home.

I'll cut to the chase since that is what you want to know anyway. After dinner we drank wine and talked about her stay, when I would be available (I still had to work), what we might do in sightseeing, etc. She had arrived on a Friday evening, so we had the weekend to look forward to before I would have to go back to work. But, I assured her that we would certainly do things when I got home. She was going to spend 10 days with me.

I told her I would give her my bed and I would sleep on the couch. She was always a practical woman in such matters so when she saw that it was a big double bed, told me that there was no sense in my being uncomfortable on the couch since there was plenty of room in the bed for both of us. When I told her that I slept in the nude as a joke, she reminded me that she had seen me in that condition too often to let that bother her. Besides, she wanted me to know that I would always be her little boy no matter how old I was.

While she used the bathroom to get ready for bed, I got undressed. I wondered if she would be wearing that same type of negligee she used to wear. By this time in life, I had started to sleep in my boxer shorts, but since I had already said I slept in the nude, I decided to shuck them and let things go where they might. When she came out of the bathroom, I paraded nude on my way to use it. I remember shaving as well as taking a shower, but since I didn't normally do that in the evening, I questioned my motives for the evening. And, yes, she was wearing a long thin negligee which parted all the way down the middle.

When I came back into the bedroom, only the nightstand light was on and she was in the bed, under the covers. She stirred when I got into bed, so I knew she was not yet asleep. The wine and our earlier conversation had us both wide awake, not really ready to fall asleep. So, we just continued to talk. At one point, I scooted across next to her and gave her a hug saying, "Oh Mother, it's so great to see you again. When I'm busy, I don't think about home, but then when I see you I realize how much I've missed you..."

She hugged me back and said, "It's like that with me too, Son, but I do think about you and how you are doing. You know, I'm really proud of you and wish you would write more often... ," or something to that effect which brought back feelings of guilt.

Now, I know those who read Mother/Son stories on the Internet will think this all sounds familiar and know what's coming, but believe me when I say I didn't try anything nor did she. We just held each other and made sure the other understood that our mother/son love was genuine (i.e., not based on sex). Since she had seen that I didn't have any overt defects and had been graduated from college, and was an officer and aviator, she must have felt justified that she had kept me from ruining my life through the temptation of self-abuse.

She had gone to college too (before WWI), and even though she had been misinformed about certain sins of man when growing up, I figured she had by now realized that what I had done (and still did) was not a crippling disease. But, as I say, maybe some things just cannot be removed from the psyche no matter how intelligent or informed one may be.

Her negligee had parted and our bare skins were in contact. But, since my intention at that point was not to do anything, I still did not have an erection, although there must have been a partial one anyway given how that rascal really doesn't take orders from the mind when in the vicinity of ready pussy. For the first time in all the times that we had been in this situation, I could see her breasts clearly.

Her breasts were not big, but they sagged. Well, they had certainly gotten a workout in her time, so that wasn't anything surprising. The nipples were pretty big although the aureoles were not. She wasn't fat, but had a stomach which spread out flat while on her back. She had carried a lot of kids down there so the fact that it stretched was expected. My hands remained around her without trying to touch anything critical. She, in turn, was hugging me too so we were pretty close.

I somehow asked her if we could just stay close like that as we went to sleep. She had no objections and repeated how happy she was to have her little boy back after such a long time. I didn't mind her calling me her little boy as long as she didn't ever say such a thing in front of my sisters or anybody else.

At first, it was strange to be holding a woman in my bed as I went to sleep, but she had molded so well into my arms and against my body that I felt totally comfortable both physically and mentally in what we were doing. She hadn't brought up the masturbation thing, so I figured that was behind us. We did talk about a lot including my daddy, but eventually, we fell asleep.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night and when I realized I had my arms around a practically naked woman, recalled who it was. But, at the same time, since I had not been trying to avoid it, my penis had erected between her legs. It was probably too early to attribute that to a morning piss hardon. Of course, it was nothing more than where it had lodged itself due to our being wrapped up in each other's arms during the night. It did feel good and I wasn't about to separate myself from her to try to be decent. On the contrary, I let my right hand travel down to caress her buttocks. Like all of her skin, they were as smooth as ever. While my hand was busy, the rest of my body became very randy as more blood engorged my penis.

About this time, she woke up and quietly said, "Son, I didn't ask you, but have you been a good boy living all by yourself? Do I need to nurse you?"

While being surprised at myself since I wasn't actually attracted to my mother as a lover (except for that one thing), I couldn't answer her fast enough..."Oh, could I Mother... it's been so long... I need to so badly..." I had reverted years to being that little boy she always took care of.

She simply rolled onto her back and parted the negligee to reveal her whole front. I began sucking her tits like I was dying of hunger. While doing that, my body shifted over on top of hers with me on my knees between her spread legs. Within a short time, I had lowered myself onto her body so my penis could find her hole. Once I found it, I slid in without difficulty--I couldn't get over how she was always wet. It was almost like the first time. The feeling was delicious and I almost came as soon as I bottomed out.

Without thinking, I said, "Oh Mother, you feel so good. I could stay this way forever..."

When she didn't say anything, I began to regret my words. But, I just felt too old to go on with the same charade. Instead, I played with her breasts with my hands instead of sucking them while I continued to fuck her. Then, wanting to gain even more of that feeling by going deeper, I pulled her legs up so that her knees were alongside my hips. Now I was going in where it seemed to get tighter, hotter, and where my entire penis was being bathed in her juices. Of course, at the age of 25, I had now had other experiences. There was something different about this situation, however. Because I had thrown the pretense to the winds and was getting into some really serious fucking, the idea of the woman being my mother became very powerful.

Even when she hadn't answered me (remember, she was always the talkative one during these sessions), I began to really act like she was a woman with whom I was making love and not just being someone taking care of my urges for health's sake (a cum receptacle). I was now talking and telling her that her vagina around my penis was so wonderful and that my love for her was so much that I was thankful to God that I was given the opportunity to express it so intimately; that I was the luckiest son in the world. At least that was the essence of what I was saying.

If she wasn't already in shock, she surely entered it when I kissed her on the mouth and sucked her lower lip and ran my tongue along it. She did not open her mouth, but she hadn't made any effort to stop my outright assault on her cunt, tits, and lips. I was really pounding her now--enough to make her grunt when our pubic bones slammed together with each heavy thrust.

She must have been able to hear the squishing of her cunt as my penis slid, slapped, and made sucking sounds when I pulled back in her very slippery channel. I sure could. Knowing full well by this time about the need to rub the clitoris, I would periodically grind my pelvis on hers once all the way in. I could actually feel her clitoris. She had her arms around my neck and was holding me tight so I know she was not repulsed.

Whenever I thought I was getting close, I would use that opportunity to grind on her clitoris while fully embedded in that hot furnace. Then, when the urge to come subsided, I went back to pounding her cunt. It was only when I was going through the "grinding" phase and felt her cunt literally grab my penis and wring it out that I knew she was coming. The thought of her having an orgasm as a result of my "loving" her sent me over the edge and I blew such a load as to make my head light while my whole body convulsed in the ecstasy. I pushed in and held it as my weapon swelled and fired over and over again. I said pretty loudly, "Mother, I love you... I'm coming in you... my dear sweet, lovely mother... Ohhhhhhh... yesssss..."

Even as I felt her cunt's spasms around my penis she was making noises I can only surmise to have been of pleasure. We were both breathing pretty hard and she finally said, "And, I love you too Son... you are such a nice son... I'm so glad I have you..." The bedside light was still on and I could see she was crying. Well, at least she had tears coming down her cheeks.

I think our orgasms had been so powerful along with the whole episode being so emotionally filled that we exhausted ourselves and fell asleep. I was too heavy to stay on top of her so slid off along her side but never let her go, caressing all her parts as we drifted off. She just tousled my hair and ran her hand over my head, but made no objection to my roaming hands. I don't know why I was always worried about what she would think since she was letting me do it. We didn't have to worry about any wake up time since tomorrow would be Saturday.

When I woke up the next morning, we were still more or less entwined. Now, I really did have a piss hardon, and contemplated whether I should take care of it inside Mother, or let well enough alone. After last night, I didn't think she would have objected, but also didn't want to do something that might ruin the next few days. I just watched her as she continued to sleep and began to stroke her breasts.