A young polo-player of Berkeley
Made love to his sweetheart beserkly.

In the midst of each chukker

He would break off and fuck her
Horizontally, laterally and verkeley.

Mother's head lay upon my shoulder, her breathing regular with sleep, my arm over her shoulder. I took a moment to inhale the clean feminine scent of her head and neck - enjoying the familiar comforting smell as always. With my free hand I unhooked the top button of her loose blouse so that her generous cleavage was exposed to the tops of her bra. I just smiled at the sight and enjoyed the tightness in my jeans.

Mother awoke some time later and lifted her head, whipping off the small trail of saliva on her cheek with the back of her hand while smiling at me pleasantly. She always professed loving to be held by me, to sleep within my arms was comforting and she never felt more loved.

It has always been this way between us - intimate and loving, with generous touches and private smiles and looks. No we were not lovers, just your regular mother and son - at least, that is what mother would have described us as to any that dared ask.

We were just coming into our station and mother stretched so that her blouse stretched against her bosom - my eyes openly admiring her curves. She chose to ignore my look and noticed that her top button was undone and redid it.

"It will be good to be home."

"It will."

I didn't live with mom but just a couple blocks away. We had gone to her mother's, my grandmother, for her sixty-fifth birthday - a weekend of living on the floor and being cuddled by heavy-set matronly women. It was different when mom held me against her bosom, I rather enjoyed it then.

I stood to retrieve our carry-on bags as the train loudly came to a halt next to the platform. Mother stood and almost fell back into the seat before catching herself on me.

"Thanks Jason. No rush is there?"

I liked her hands holding me about the waist. "No rush at all mom."

The taxi ride went quickly but I casually let my hand grasp and stroke one of mother's bare knees, as she looked pleasantly out the window thinking nothing of her sons touch.

Letting the taxi go, since mother asked me to stay so she could make us supper. She was always offering to make me food, clean my clothing and even to come over and clean my apartment - normally I take her up on it.

She was humming something as she moved about the kitchen on her bare feet and I sat on the table behind her, starring at her almost hypnotically. The generous curves of her waist and hips, the smooth lines of her strong calves and ankles down to her small feet with pretty little toes. She didn't wear any nail polish after I asked her to stop, almost two years before.

Mom was half way between forty and fifty and though she presented a vitality of a younger person she certainly looked her age. And want to know something, I loved her as strongly as I always had. In fact how I felt about mother was not something most people would understand.

"I love you mom."

She turned her face to look at me over her shoulder, eyes bright and pleased, a smile threatening to crack it was so wide, "I love you too Jason."

Mother had such a cute face.

She turned back to her work, letting me watch her. Enjoying my eyes on her.

Can you remember the first time you climaxed? I don't mean jerk off - because guys will start getting erections long before they know what to do with them, but pump that dick until you make your first mess? What was it that you thought about? A little surprising to some, but I thought about mom. Yes, still married back then but just as short and cute as ever.

My early teen years were confusing, I knew my desire for her was wrong but it wasn't something I could easily control. I went out of my way to peek at her dressing, coming out of the shower or just up her skirt at the dinner table. She knew of course and scolded me on numerous occasions but never once stopped me. Hell, she often smiled sweetly and turned away with a red face - leaving me to think, years later, that she truly enjoyed the attention of her only child. It was only in recent years that I realized that my attention may have been the only admiring glances she was receiving back then - entering middle-age, husband ignoring her and feeling lonely and old.

When I went out on my first date, mother stayed up sternly until I returned home and would not speak to me for days after. She continued to act jealous of my girlfriends until I learnt not to bring them around, not to disclose that part of my life with her.

Back then dad liked to fuck mom after getting home from the pool hall every Friday night - loud and rough. Mom was left sobbing on more than one occasion and acting like she could barely stand the sight of him when sober. I was the shoulder she sought, I was the ear she told her sad tales too. Still she sobbed and became depressed when dad left her, cheating on her with a girl almost half her age. Mom and I on her bed as she sobbed out her story - about being a virgin on her wedding night, how she felt so lonely and so humiliated. Only in me, she confided, did she feel love and, with a little coaxing, desirable.

Something changed that night, something intimate. Sure we were physically close up to then, hugging and kissing on the lips, holding hands, talking honestly and openly. But that night changed our relationship - and the only way I can describe it is, I became the man, the only man, in her life.

She pampered me, allowed me the decisions in all matters - big or small. I asked her to stop using nail-polish, telling her I thought it made her look cheap, she threw out all the bottles and never used it again. She now wears skirts or dresses because I once told her half-heartily that I thought women looked sexier in a skirt than pants. Only months after did I realize that I hadn't seen her in anything but a skirt since that comment.

Each weekend since I moved out I came over to her townhouse, spoilt and enjoying it. I sat in dad's old easy chair watching television as mom cleaned the house, brought me a beer or sat beside me and knitted. When we went out anyone seeing us would have been shocked to know we were mother and son - constantly touching, looking into each others eyes, her deferring to anything I wanted. I liked to order the food for both of us at restaurants - holding her hand across the table, her smile wide and happy.

The first time I spanked mother she deserved it. A girl I was seeing called at mother's place when I was over and mother went into a crying fit, throwing shit around and yelling. You would think she thought it was dad's cheating on her all over - leaving her alone, feeling humiliated and lonely. I roughly dragged her, kicking and screaming, over my lap, pulled up her skirt and spanked her panty covered bottom until my hand was numb and she was sobbing hysterically. I carried her into her room and lay spooned behind her as she cried herself to sleep. The next morning was like it hadn't happened - if anything she acted she loved me the more for caring enough to spank her.

It wasn't the last time I spanked her and she submitted to her punishment without a fight after that.

Supper was finished and mother set the plate of steaming food before me, then sat perpendicular with her own plate. "What are you thinking about honey?"

She rarely asked me this, usually respecting my silence. "I'm horny mom."

She smiled sweetly and starred down at her plate. She knew her part all too well it seems.

"Come here mom."

Our food was not even started but mother never spoke a word to deny me. She just lowered her fork, stood up and strode on her bare foot to stand before me.

"Open your blouse mom."

She was breathing heavily, her eyes already blazing, she too needed this. Her hands rose, trembling ever so slightly as each button was released and the silk parted. Mom was looking at my face, her bra covered bosom heaving with deep quick breaths.

"Drop the blouse and the bra mom - I want to see your big tits."

She shivered once before doing as I asked, setting the garments carefully over the back of her chair. Those heavy low-hung white breasts dropped almost to her navel - the nipples half-ways pointing to the floor, were dark brown and already wrinkled in hardness. There were goose bumps on the pale flesh of her breast and I could not help but smile with pleasure for our intimacy.

"God your sexy mom!" I meant it - I had always desired her.

She had to swallow loudly before, "I want you Jason."

Of course she did, she never denied me any sexual act since that night she had told me her most private of thoughts. Thoughts no self respecting mother and wife would ever admit - adultery, desires so wrong that they shocked her - in other words, incest. She hadn't resisted me that night, neither did either of us sleep as we coupled continually - mother amazed and delighted in witnessing the honest strength of my desire, my love, for her. That had been years ago and the fire that burned for my mother in my heart, my soul and yes, even between my legs had not diminished.

I was her only love since that night, her man. A secret, yes, but since she had few friends and the only relative she spoke with was her mother, five hours by train - a secret easily kept. We lived separately but only for the sake of propriety.

My hand rose and felt her right breast - heavy, warm and soft as I had expected. Mother pressed her chest into my hand and sighed at the touch.

It was amazing to me, that just a touch, the right word, could turn my mother passionate - her sex filling with juices and her body trembling with desire. I was her first, she had confided, the first to bring her to climax - the first in the whole of her life.

As that early teenager I must have known we were meant to be together, looking at my maternal parent with desire even before I realized what it was. She on the other hand, confided in me that she found my looks uncomfortable but exciting - no one had ever looked at her the way I did.

I squeezed both heavy breasts together and leaned forwards to bring my mouth to one. I sucked it roughly deep into the back of my throat as mother gasped then groaned, her hands holding the back of my head, my face smothered in her soft tit-flesh. My hands went around to grasp the smooth soft flesh of the small of her back, holding her possessively. Not long did they linger there, moving down to grope her full large fleshy ass, covered in the woollen skirt.

There was no pants in her wardrobe since I asked her to throw them out - enjoying the sight of her attractive legs. She dressed as I requested, after the skirts, none allowed to reach past the mid point of her calves, I switched her to thigh-high stockings - the panty hose no longer allowed in her home.

Yes I played her like a doll - dressing her how I saw fit, she purchasing what I told her with a wide pleased smile. She realized I wanted to see her in these things out of desire - wanting to feel sexy for her man. We lost numerous Saturday afternoons with me directing and viewing her in various combinations of lingerie - each ending with some great orgasmic coupling. This was the result of our relationship, her feeling like a women for the first time in her life - desired and loved. How many times had she told me there wasn't anything she would not do for me?

My hands quickly unbuttoned and then lowered the zipper on the back of mother's skirt, shoving it down with a desperation that was originating deep between my legs. As expected the warm cotton panty was no barrier at all to my hungry paws.

Mother swooned above me, pressing her chest forwards and her ass back - moaning continually now. She knew my desire for her bottom - knew I was an 'ass man' and thus, her bottom had become her prime erogenous zone. She rather enjoyed when I took that virginity from her long ago.