I was fifteen when it happened.

Mum was thirty-something when she had me — I never knew anything about my father, it seemed to be a family secret. Mum’s parents helped bring me up, and none of them would tell me when I asked.

Mum wasn’t conventionally beautiful — she was tall, about five feet ten, with a lean, stringy body that only served to emphasise her large breasts, a strong nose, but with a wide, sensuous mouth and long, iron-grey hair that reached almost to her waist. I used to brush it for her sometimes, standing behind her and trying to look down at her breasts as she sat in her nightdress.

I always took her a cup of tea in bed on Sunday mornings, with one for myself, and I sat in bed with her as we drank our tea. It gave me another opportunity to try to glimpse her breasts, and sometimes we’d snuggle together and I’d hug her to me, feeling the warmth of her body.

Then, one Sunday morning, I carried the tray into her bedroom and put it down on the bedside table. As I did so, I noticed what looked like a dog-eared magazine lying on the floor beside the bed. Mum was lying on her side, facing away from me, still fast asleep, and I bent down and picked up the magazine. Except that it wasn’t — it was more like a picture book, and on the cover was a photograph of a naked boy, with a colossal erect cock.

I nearly dropped the book in surprise, but then I quickly flipped through it. Every page showed a naked boy, all with erections. It was in a foreign language — I thought it was Dutch, but each photo was identified as ‘Piet — 13’, ‘Wim — 12’, ‘Jan — 14’, ‘Emil — 15’, and so on, and I remembered that Mum had spent a weekend in Rotterdam with her friend Beryl a few months ago.

Mum stirred, and I quickly dropped the book and kicked it under the bed as she turned towards me and opened her eyes,

“Mum — here’s your tea,” I stuttered.

Her heavy breasts were pressed together, almost falling out of her nightdress, and as she propped herself up on one elbow one strap slipped off her shoulder, revealing even more of her breast. She didn’t seem to notice as she stretched out her hand towards the tea, and thanked me sleepily.

She took a sip, then replaced the cup on the tray and struggled to sit up, casually easing the strap back up onto her shoulder and patted the bed beside her. All her nightdresses were long, but when she turned back the bedclothes to allow me in I saw her nightdress had ridden up over her thighs.

I climbed in, and she handed my tea and continued to drink her own as she asked me what the weather was like, and if I’d slept well, all the usual things. We drank our tea together, while I glanced down at her, staring at her cleavage, and conscious of her bare legs touching mine. It was summer, and as usual I just had on my pyjama trousers, and when I leaned across her to replace my cup on the bedside table my bare chest rested against her arm and I managed to brush against her breast.

Mum yawned. “I could do with another half hour’s sleep. Snuggle down and cuddle me, dear.”

She turned on her side away from me, and I pressed myself against her and put my arm across her body. She took my hand and held it, apparently unaware that it was touching her breast.

My cock was stiff, and pressing against her bottom, but she didn’t seem to notice, and she soon started to breathe slowly and regularly, and I knew she was asleep.

My mind was in a whirl, wondering why my mother was looking at a book with nothing but pictures of naked boys my age, all with enormous erections. Then it occurred to me that during the past year or so Mum had taken to come into the bathroom when I was in the tub, and perch on the edge of the bath and talk to me. Often, I’d get a glimpse of her thighs under her skirt, and I enjoyed her looking at me naked, and we both pretended not to notice my erection...

I moved my hand slightly against her soft breast — Mum stirred and her fingers slipped from my hand, and daringly, hardly able to breathe, I gently eased my hand inside her nightdress, to hold her bare breast in my hand. I longed to squeeze it, and move my throbbing cock against her bottom, but I wasn’t brave enough, and contented myself with just feeling her like that.

It was over a week later that I went into her room late one evening when she was out. I’d been getting ready for bed, and all I had on was my pyjama trousers, and my feet were bare. I don’t know what I expected to find — perhaps more books, or maybe photographs. I tried the drawer of her bedside table, but it was locked. I wondered if I’d be able to pick the lock, or perhaps find the key, but then I suddenly heard the toilet flush in the bathroom, and I realised that Mum had come home early.

I looked around in panic — I knew she’d be angry to find me searching her room, but if I tried to leave the chances were that she’d come out of the bathroom and catch me. She had a large, old-fashioned wooden wardrobe, and in desperation I climbed in, leaving the door open a fraction, just as she came into the room.

I held my breath as she started to undress — she was wearing a blouse and skirt, and I prayed that she wouldn’t want to hang the skirt in the wardrobe. She unbuttoned the blouse and tossed it onto a chair, and I stared at her heavy breasts encased in a pale blue bra, and I could see her ribs clearly defined. Next, she unfastened her skirt and pushed it down over her hips. When she stepped out of it and bent down to pick it up her swelling breasts seemed about to pop out of her bra, but then, thankfully, she hung the skirt over the back of the chair.

She reached up and unpinned her hair, shaking it out so that it hung around her shoulders, then she sat on the bed and undid her suspenders, sliding first one and then the other stocking down her legs and pulling them off her feet, unfastening her suspender belt, and lifting herself to peel off her matching blue panties, and I gazed at the thick clump of greying pubic hair, and finally she stood up and unfastened her bra, to let her big breasts hang freely.

For the first time, I saw my mother completely naked, and my hungry eyes took in every detail of her lean body and legs, and I clutched my throbbing cock. But then Mum smoothed her hands over her body sensuously. She stroked her upper arms and shoulders, ran her hands down over her belly and then up again to cup her breasts, lifting them and lowering her head to kiss her nipples, and then, still fondling one breast, she slipped her other hand between her legs.

I’d never imagined her doing anything like that, and I was practically shaking with excitement.

She went to the door and turned the key in the lock, and then she returned to her bed and took her nightdress from beneath the pillow. She slipped it over her head and let it fall to her ankles, smoothing it over her body and turning back the bedclothes. I expected her to climb in and go to sleep, allowing me to creep out and go to my own room, but instead she felt under the mattress and produced a small key, which she fitted in the lock of the bedside table drawer and opened it.

Mum took out the book I’d seen before, and swung her legs up onto the bed, leaned back, and opened the book. She studied one or two pages, and her hand slipped into her nightdress and she began fondling her breast again. She eased the strap of her nightdress off her shoulder, and, her eyes still fixed on the book, she lifted her bare breast and again kissed her nipple, licking it, her fingers squeezing her soft yielding flesh.

She turned a page and stared at the picture, and then she raised it to her lips and kissed it. She wriggled to pull up her nightdress, and I watched breathlessly as she started to rub her fingers between her legs. She turned another page slowly, and then another, transferring her free hand back to her bare breast and toying with her nipple for several minutes.

I heard her sigh, and she spread her legs wide apart and licked her fingers before stroking herself. She turned another page and pushed her fingers into herself, and then rubbed then over her breasts, squeezing her nipples and then stroking herself again between her widespread legs.

She stopped long enough to turn another page, rubbing her fingers over the page and then kissing it before retuning her hand to her breast and fondling herself. Finally, she dropped the book and closed her eyes, her body squirming as she crushed one breast while her other hand slid between her legs again. I saw her bite her bottom lip as she arched her back, just as I shuddered and half fell out of the wardrobe, still clutching my cock. My mother froze, staring at me unbelievingly, still holding her bare breast and with the fingers of her other hand deep inside her.

I couldn’t control myself — I just ran to the bed and threw myself on it as I leaned forward to kiss her.

Mum suddenly came to life, and tried to push me away as she turned her head aside to avoid my mouth. I grabbed her wrists, spreading her arms, and she writhed frantically, twisting her body up and inadvertently grinding her breasts against my chest. She resisted desperately, trying to get away, but I was too strong for her.

As we struggled we slid further down the bed, and I threw one leg over her to pin her down. I forced her hands above her head, gripping both wrists with one hand and holding her jaw with the other, compelling her to face me, and I kissed her brutally as she squirmed violently beneath me.