“So, how long have you and your mother been fucking?”

That’s what my “girlfriend,” Kathy, asked me while we were lying in bed, our third time together.

Since she’d already discovered our secret, I figured I had to tell her the story.

My mom and dad were quite young when they had me, so she was only forty-nine when ... when it started.

It was Mom’s birthday, and I’d taken her out to dinner at a restaurant that had been a favorite of hers and Dad’s. I had also managed to score two hard-to-get tickets for an enthusiastically-reviewed new production of the old comedy-mystery, “The Butler Did It, ” at – where else – The Playhouse Theater.

I always feel especially good when I’m out anywhere with my mother. To put it simply, she is a fine-looking woman. She’s 5-6 barefoot, 5-10 in her favorite heels, and dressed in a silver metallic full-length sleeveless evening gown, like she is tonight, she is downright elegant. I’ve seen vacation pictures from when she was young and she really looked good in a bikini, too, some of them really tiny and all of them very sexy.

In fact, she looks like the British actress, Helen Mirren. Not like Helen Mirren looks today, but like pictures of her when she was 50, and my mom looks almost exactly like her, except that my mom’s dark blond hair has some gray streaks instead of Helen Mirren’s silvery-blond tint.

Oh, yeah, she has a figure like Helen Mirren’s, too. Not quite as “full” on top, but full enough to fill our an evening gown quite impressively. Like tonight.

I’m sure a lot of the women there envied her. I’m also sure that a lot of men there envied me, and it made me feel pretty special, having such an elegant, attractive woman on my arm for the evening.

I handed our ticket to the valet, we got my car, and in 15 minutes were were back at her house – the house she’d shared with Dad, the one I grew up in since we moved there when I was twelve. It was late but not too late so Mom got two of the good crystal snifters from the china cabinet and poured nice slugs of brandy for each of us, then said, “Give me a few minutes to change out of this and into something a little more comfortable.”

I thought she looked pretty comfortable in the evening gown, but she went into her bedroom and in about five minutes came back, having changed into a very soft looking lambswool sheath dress.

“There, I feel more at home. Now, how about those brandies?”

So we sat and talked, about dinner, mostly about the play, which was hilarious but also had some cute plot twists.

But by the time we finished reminiscing about the evening it was pretty late. This, combined with the fact that I’d had not merely a second, but a third brandy, made driving home look like a bad idea. Mom suggested that I simply spend the night there and drive home the next morning.

Having grown up in this house I still had a bedroom there, as well as a toothbrush, deodorant, and shaving stuff in the bathroom, so staying the night wasn’t a big inconvenience. So we finished our brandies – Mom said to just leave the glasses on the table – and we stood up to head off to bed.

We hugged and kissed each other good night, as usual. But this time we both held the kiss a little longer than our usual mother-son goodnight kiss, and we both knew it. I became acutely aware of my mom’s slim, shapely body beneath the soft lambswool sheath.

I also became aware of something else: an unexpected thickening in my groin. But I was afraid to move because I thought that any movement on my part would just call attention to it.

Too late. My mother looked at me, almost a question in her eyes. But she didn’t move away, either.

Without thinking about it, I found my hand moving downward from it’s proper place in the middle of her back to her waist – and down even farther – not quite on her ass, but just where her spine starts to curve into her shapely ass. And I held it like that. And when I did that, I couldn’t be sure but I think Mom moved just a little closer to me. Maybe only a fraction of an inch, but still, she moved closer rather than farther away from me.

Then neither of us moved – just held each other

Mom finally backed off – but just a little.

“Bedtime, Jimmy.”

She said it in an “Off you go!” tone of voice and raised her head for a goodnight kiss. But it wasn’t an “off-you-go” kiss. It was a full on-the-lips kiss, and it was soft, and it lasted far longer than most mothers’ goodnight kisses to their sons.

~ ~ ~

Even though it was Saturday morning, and in spite of the late night, with the brandy and..., still, I woke up at my usual weekday time.

What surprised me was that Mom was already up. I showered and brushed my teeth and put on my suit pants and my dress shirt from last night and went out to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was waiting. I could smell Mom’s “famous” cinnamon rolls in the oven. Unlike me, she was wearing some kind of dressing gown – not silky or satiny or slinky, and certainly not some old chenille thing she’d just thrown on. Instead it looked like some kind “miracle fiber” – soft, and smooth – and there’s no way I could fail to notice how it clung to her slender, shapely body.

And all of a sudden I felt this little... twinge ... in my lower parts, and I had a flashback to what it felt like last night, when we were saying goodnight...

She motioned for me to sit down and she handed me a mug of coffee. I poured a little milk from the leprechaun milk pitcher I’d had since I was a child and we sat there quietly. We both decided to speak at the same time.

“Mom...”

“Jimmy...” We smiled at the awkwardness.

“You go first.”

She smiled, relieved that she could just say what she wanted to say and get it over with.

“Jimmy – last night...”

I started to say something, maybe to apologize, I’m not really sure...

She put her hand over mine.

“Please ... let me finish so I don’t ... Jimmy – last night – I thought about it, and the fact is – I liked having you hold me ... like ... like that.

When she said that it almost knocked me off my feet – or my seat. But the strange thing is, I also felt a little “thump” in my groin – the thought that she’d felt something too.

“In fact, what I felt ... well, it’s something I haven’t felt since your father...”

Yes. My father, James Sr. He died of multiple myeloma four, almost five years ago, and since that time, yes, the lovely woman who is my mother has been alone. A few dates with friends-of-friends, but nothing ever developed out of them, I’m pretty sure because my mother never wanted them to.

But last night, with me, my mother “felt something.”

Again, I started to say something, and again she shushed me.

“The other thing is, Jimmy...,” she took another drink of her coffee, “it was obvious that you felt something, too.”

Oh, shit! Was she telling me that she felt my cock getting hard last night when we were hugging?

While I was holding her slim, shapely body in that soft, sexy lambswool sheath dress?

I must’ve started to look panicked. I think I felt my face reddening.

Mom put her hand on mine again and smiled, that warm smile that has reassured me since I was an infant.

“No, Jimmy – don’t be embarrassed. What I’m trying to tell you is ... you weren’t the only one having those feelings.

“And I don’t know about you, but I liked having those feelings again.”

She lifted her head from her coffee and looked in my eyes.

“I hope you liked having those feelings, too.”

Her soft hand was still resting on mine.

“What I mean to say is ... Jimmy ... what I was wondering was ... do you have to drive home ... right away...?”

She waited, to see what my reaction would be to her ... suggestion? Proposal?

Proposition??

Of course I was stunned. I mean, there was pretty much only one way that her “question” could be interpreted. But what also stunned me was the fact that I wasn’t shocked. What she’d said – her “suggestion” – was ... well, I think that, deep down, I was hoping that she’d say something like that.

So she waited, and when she didn’t see any reaction of disgust or disapproval or rejection from me she stood up and held out her hand to me, and together we walked into her bedroom.

And that’s where I started to become less sure.

Here I am, going into a bedroom with a lovely, sexy older woman who wants to be with me. If I met an older woman like this at a business conference or in a cocktail lounge I wouldn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable going to her room or mine to have sex...

... and all of a sudden I got this thought: Has my mother ever gone to a business conference or a cocktail lounge and...

But this lovely “older woman” and I have “a history” – a long history, of the deepest, most sensitive kind.

Once we were in the bedroom she let go of my hand and turned to me. She put her arms gently around my neck and pulled me to her, and we kissed, like we kissed last night. Only we knew that this time it was not a kiss of goodnight. We both knew – this time it was a kiss between two people who were just starting.

We broke our kiss and I stepped back from Mom and gently took her by her shoulders and turned her around so her back was snuggled in against me and I put my arms around her. In her gown she felt so soft and lovely and cuddle-able in my arms, and impulsively I kissed her hair.

“Oh, Jimmy, please hold me – I haven’t been held like this in so long.”

And I realized: there are lots of ways that you can touch yourself, and lot of things you can put on and inside you, and you can see all the genitalia you want, still and in action, on the screen...

But there Is no substitution for being held by another person who cares for you.

I held her like that, but then my hands, almost of their own accord, began to move over her body, following, molding those lovely curves, cupping her breasts, feeling her nipples hardening under my fingers...

She reached one arm back and stroked my hair while I stroked... her.

She took my hands and moved them down, then turned around and kneeled in front of me and began loosening my belt and trousers and guided them down to the carpet...

And without hesitating – almost confidently – she put her mouth over my cock, and in the most loving way imaginable she took me into her mouth, and with my hands resting lightly on her shoulders she softly stroked me, cupping my testicles gently, and I felt her tongue licking around the crown of my cock, gently probing – almost exploring – the little slit in the tip, then taking my whole cock in the warmth of her wet mouth.

I had to let her know. “Oh, Mom, that feels so good...”

She looked up at me and smiled.

“I think maybe you should start calling me Elaine.”

Then, without either of us saying anything, she backed her head off my cock and stood up. She unbuttoned my shirt and eased it off my shoulders. Then, always the mom, she picked up my pants from the floor and folded them and draped them over a chair. She took my hand and led us both over to the bed.

For all my life I have loved this “older woman” just one way. Now I have to figure out how to love her in another way.

I noticed that the sheets had been straightened and smoothed but she had not made the bed. Had she already known that she and I were going to be... using it?

She – Elaine – untied her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders. She sat down on the bed and then reached out, inviting me to join her – to join my mother, in her bed. I took her hand, and she guided me in and over her.

No, my mother, it seems, doesn’t have any problem in figuring out how to love me in ... that other way.

And there’s no doubt what’s supposed to happen. I think I would have liked to take things more slowly – lovingly, maybe caressing her back, kissing her, massaging her legs, before turning over and giving her ... pussy – I can’t even believe I’m talking about... my mother’s ... pussy! – giving her pussy the same loving attention that she gave me just a moment ago.

She lay on her back, her lovely long legs spread in welcome. She pulled me down, close enough to her that she could grasp my cock and guide it into her lubricating pussy.

And I felt it. First, the touch, warm and wet. Then the slight resistance, the pressure of her flesh, then felt it yield as Mom’s – Elaine’s – hands on my buttocks urged me farther, and in two more pushes I was completely in her – completely inside Elaine’s – inside my mother’s – pussy.

I stopped then. I wanted to save this moment – I think we both wanted to save this moment.

But we both wanted more. Mom – Elaine! - put her hands behind my head and pulled my face down to hers. She looked into my eyes, then ruffled my hair and smiled at me – yes, the smile of a loving mother, but also, the smile of a new lover.

“This is lovely. Fuck me, Jimmy. I want you.”

And her words said it all for me: This is lovely, I love her, and I want to fuck her. Maybe forever.

I moved my hips, in the familiar in-and-out motion, and Mom –Elaine! – put her arms around me and her legs over mine, and we rocked together, and even though this was our first time we seemed to pick up on each other’s rhythm, and before long Mo ... Elaine was cumming. Locking her legs over mine, she thrust her hips up against me and I felt her nails dig into my shoulders as she hugged me tightly to her, and I knew that I could cum now. I pressed my groin into her as hard as I could and tried to take in all the feelings...

And I came. For the very first time, I came inside my mother – I came inside of Elaine.

And I knew – we both knew – things – life – would never be the same.

And that was a good thing.

~ ~ ~

We both moved around a little, just to enjoy the little extra feelings, but then smiled, and I rolled off Elaine and onto my back and she snuggled into my shoulder, and we lay there like lovers. Which I guess now we are.

“I could use something to drink – how about you?”

“Ye ... yes..., ” I croaked.

“You stay right there.” She –Elaine! – rolled off the other side of the bed and walked out toward the kitchen. She didn’t even bother to put on her robe. I guess we’re past that point now, aren’t we?