Hi Reader,

I thought that you might benefit from reading about how I lost my virginity with my mother. I think the whole concept of mothers fucking their sons has gotten a very undeserved bad reputation in general society and I thought my experience might help to put the subject into better perspective.

I know that often sons are taken advantage of by their mothers for evil and perverted reasons such as introducing their young adolescent sons to passionate sex with a mature woman for the purpose of addicting their son to erotic sex early in his sexual development and making him their private sex slave; or to break in their son's to sell their services as male prostitutes to frustrated women who want to be fucked by virile, hard, young cocks and have their cunts enthusiastically sucked and licked by young boys' hard tongues; or even to introduce them to orgasmic sex and far out sex acts preparatory to training and conditioning them for sale to service pedophile men who like to ass fuck young boys and have their cocks cleaned and sucked by them afterwards. Truly, those kinds of mothers are indeed evil and perverted and deserve the disgust and approbation of all decent people. They deserve all the punishment that society can heap on them.

My mother was not one of those kinds of evil and perverted mothers. She was, and is today, the most loving and kind mother that any son could ever wish to have. She never consciously intended to turn me into a motherfucker. But sometimes life can take funny twists and turns and create those special circumstances that can come together at just the right moment in time to bring a mother and son together into a very loving, monogamous, sexual relationship. When it happens that way, it can be a very beautiful experience for both mother and son. That's what it was for me, and to this day still is. So, I thought I would like to share my experience as an example of how beautiful a vigorous and complete, incestuous, relationship between a mother and her son can be.

I am now a grown man 27 years old with a beautiful and loving 25-year-old wife. And I am also still involved in a very active sexual relationship with my mother. With her loving encouragement, help, and guidance, I have broadened my sexual experiences with over 30 other beautiful young women before I found the woman who stole my heart. You see, my relationship with my mother is based on our love for one another primarily as mother and son and not just as man and woman. She wants what is best for me in life and understands the importance of nurturing and developing the confidence and self-assurance in young men that results in strong, healthy, masculine egos, but at the same time not to be afraid of expressing soft tender love to their women. So she taught me how to be that kind of strong, self-confident man because she wanted me to find a woman to love and who would love me with the same kind of love that she and my Dad had for each other. From my perspective she has succeeded, probably far beyond even her own wildest expectations.

In putting my story down in words on paper, I have tried to convey the thoughts and feelings I had as if I were still that young, inexperienced teenager at the time my mother claimed my virginity and introduced me to the intoxicating pleasures of the vast and wondrous world of the many varieties of intimate, erotic sex with an experienced and mature woman as she so lovingly taught me how to make love to a woman, and in turn took me to the highest peaks of sexual pleasure that I have ever achieved with any woman. But today I am now a computer systems engineer and software developer and not very adept at expressing myself in writing, so please excuse my clumsy prose.

Title: My Mother: My Lover and My Mistress

My name is Dan Cutler and this story begins when I was 14 years old, two months shy of my 15th birthday. My Mom's name is Angela and at that time she was 32. My Mom and I had been living alone together for almost 5 years since I was 11. My Dad's name was Herb. He had a brain tumor 3 months before my 11th birthday and passed away and that's the reason Mom and I are all alone now. Mom and I were both devastated when Dad died. Dad was the center of Mom's life, and when he died, she just gave up on life and went into such a deep state of grief and depression that I was scared she was going to die too.

I also loved my Dad and I missed him terribly. He was a great father who always included me in everything he did like taking me with him fishing, and letting me help him work on old cars which was his hobby, and always going with me to my Little League baseball games and cheering me on. It was the happiest time of my young life.

Before Dad died Mom was always a happy cheerful Mom, full of energy, always bustling around doing something and planning stuff to make our lives interesting and fun. She was a beautiful woman who always took great care to look her best, especially for Dad. I remember whenever I would want her to do something with me in the afternoon after school, she would often put me off saying, "Not now honey, later. Daddy will be home soon and Mommy has to go and make herself look really pretty for him." I used to laugh and love the way they used to tease and flirt with each other and kiss and hug all the time. And they had a habit of all of a sudden going into their bedroom behind closed doors at all times of the day, and they would tell me to amuse myself playing or watching TV because Mommy and Daddy had to take care of "some business" for a little while. I knew that they were going in to their bedroom to do something called "make love" with each other, but at the time I had no idea what that really meant. It just made me feel good, and yes, safe, to see them both so happy and so much in love with each other.

Dad had been the only man in Mom's life. He and Mom were high school sweethearts who got married just before graduation. (In later years Mom admitted to me that Dad knocked her up with me about five months before graduation but he insisted on marrying her so I would not be a bastard). They even went through college together with the total loving support of both of their parents who took turns caring for me for Mom through her first two difficult years of college, until I had gotten old enough for her to manage both my care and her college work too.

There are many other examples about their life together that Mom related to me in later years that I could write about that would demonstrate how deep and complete was their love for each other. Perhaps I will someday write about those as well. But for now, it's enough to know that I knew Mom missed Dad an awful lot after he died, but I guess I just wasn't old enough to really understand the depth of the love she had for him and the crushing effect his death had on her. But I understand now that Dad was not only my mother's husband, my father, our family provider, and the source of our security, but also my mother's lover and sex partner, and Dad's death had in a sense, brought her to her knees.

As I said, I missed my Dad terribly, but, as the saying goes, time has a way of healing great hurts, especially in young children, and after about a year had passed I was beginning to settle in to a new life routine without my Dad. I still missed him a lot, but I guess I got caught up in life again with school and friends and just growing up. But Mom was still a basket case. She didn't seem to care about anything anymore. She stopped trying to look her best and seemed to lose interest in all the things she loved to do before Dad died. Dad had a life insurance policy that left us with enough money to live on for a while and so there was no reason for Mom to have to find a full time job right away and she just moped around the house all the time in her nightgown and bathrobe doing nothing but watching TV, and frequently bursting out in crying jags for, what seemed to my young mind at the time, no good reason. I was worried for my Mom and scared about what might happen to us, but I just didn't know what to do about it.

This situation persisted for a long time until I was almost 12, and it was the saddest and most depressing period of my life. I tried everything I could to cheer Mom up but nothing worked. One afternoon a couple of days before my 12th birthday I was in my room worrying about what was going to happen to us and crying about the state my Mom was in. She must have heard me, because she opened the door and came in and said,

"What's the matter Danny honey? Why are you sitting here crying all by yourself?"

The flood gates of all my pent up fears and unhappiness just burst and I grabbed her around the waist hugging her tight and buried my head in her stomach and said,

"Oh Mom I love you so much, but I'm so unhappy and scared about what will happen to us. I still miss Dad, but most of all I miss the way you used to be so happy and funny and beautiful all of the time, always thinking of things for us to do to have fun. I hate to see you so unhappy that you don't seem to care about anything anymore, not even me. I love you so much and I want to make you happy again but I don't know what to do Mom. I'm scared Mom. What can I do to make you happy again? Please tell me Mom. Please, please..."

Mom started shushing me saying, "Oh sweetheart, don't worry honey. Please don't worry. Everything's going to be all right," as she sat down on the edge of my bed pulling me down beside her and hugged me tightly to her body with my head resting on her breasts and started gently stroking the hair on my head saying, "My poor baby ... please don't cry now ... don't you know that you are the light of my life? ... I love you more than life itself and everything is going to be happy and beautiful for us again. You just wait and see. It will."

And then she just continued to hold me tight with my head on her soft bosom stroking my hair, cooing soft nothings to me and gently rocking back and forth — just like she used to do when I was a small child, and something would scare me or, I would hurt myself in some way while playing.

She held me in her arms like that, rocking back and forth, for what seemed to me like hours, but in reality, was probably only for about a half hour. All I remember is that I never wanted her to stop. It was the most peaceful and contented feeling I think I have ever had. I will never forget how warm and soft her breasts felt on my cheeks. She was still in her nightgown and not wearing a bra and I could feel her big nipples through the thin fabric of her gown pressing on my cheek and occasionally brushing across my lips sending a warm tingly feeling rushing all through my body as she held me tightly against her body and rocked back and forth.

How desperately I wanted to reach out with my mouth and latch my lips onto those beautiful nipples and just gently suck on them. But I knew I couldn't because I knew I was too old for that. Even though I knew almost nothing about sexual matters between men and women at that time, I was certainly aware of the social taboos against boys my age engaging in that kind of behavior with any female much less their mothers, and if they dared to do so, would be viewed as some kind of perverts.

And so I was just content to snuggle my face into Mom's bosom, ecstatic in the knowledge that she still loved me. I was overwhelmed with the love I had for her at that moment. I felt so safe in her arms with my head resting on her soft breasts and the love I had for her literally flooded my consciousness driving out all my fears and worries. I just knew that life was going to be good for both of us again.

Of course everything didn't change overnight like it does in fairy tales. For the next few weeks I could tell that Mom was making an effort in little ways to break out of her morose depression. She started getting up with me in the morning to make my breakfast before I left for school which she hadn't done in over a year. I used to just fix myself a bowl of cold cereal and get myself off to school. And she was putting on normal clothes again when she got up in the morning instead of staying in her nightgowns and bathrobe all day. And when I would get home from school she started asking me how my day was and would talk to me about my interests.

So I could tell Mom was trying, but I could also tell how hard it was for her to be cheerful when she was still missing Dad so much. I continued to worry that we would never be completely happy again as we once were like she had promised that day in my room.

But the real breakthrough happened about nine months later 2 or 3 months before my 13th birthday when I came home one Saturday morning about 11 o'clock after having spent Thursday and Friday night on a sleepover at the home of my best friend, Timmy Driscoll. I had not seen Mom since the previous Thursday morning when I left for school. She saw me coming up the sidewalk that Saturday morning and was waiting for me at the door.

I didn't know that while I was at Timmy's house Mom had gone out to the beauty parlor and had a full makeover. She had gotten her hair cut and styled and had a full facial make over. Afterwards she went shopping and bought herself a whole set of pretty new clothes that highlighted her beautiful figure and stunning breasts. So when I opened the door and saw her standing there, I couldn't believe my eyes. She was my dream come true. There was my gorgeous, beautiful Mom in front of me wearing a flattering new dress, giggling like a girl with a big happy smile on her face, and her arms spread wide saying,

"Surprise sweetheart! How do you like your new Mom!

I literally leapt into her waiting open arms and began laughing and babbling away, "Oh Mom you're so beautiful. I'm so happy to see you so happy and beautiful again. I love you, love you, love you so much." And I thought to myself, "Wow!, my mom is a real sexy babe— a knock-out, drop dead beauty!"

And I said to her, "Wow Mom!, you are a real babe ... a stone cold fox! ... the most beautiful woman in the city. I can't wait for Timmy and the guys to see you. You'll knock 'em dead!"

Mom threw her head back laughing and squeezed me tighter in her arms and said, "Oh Danny honey, you don't know how good it makes me feel all over to know that you think I'm beautiful. I so want you to be proud of me again, and I'm so happy to know that you think I'm a stone cold fox, even though I'm not sure exactly what that means."

And then she pulled back slightly away from me and looked at me with a coy little smile and said, "But where did you learn that phrase sweetheart? I hope it means something nice."

I got a little embarrassed and lowered my head, "Awww Mom, that's just what Timmy and I call the real sexy girls in our school. You know, the girls we would really like to make out with. But they're all juniors and seniors and don't pay any attention to freshmen. I'm sorry Mom. I didn't mean anything bad by it. We heard it in a movie and it seemed like a real cool thing to say. It just came out..." And before I could finish my sentence, Mom laughed and said,

"Oh no, Danny!. You didn't say anything wrong honey. It's perfect. I love it that you think I'm both beautiful and sexy. I'm on cloud nine knowing that my man thinks I'm a stone cold fox. I haven't been so happy in a very long time sweetheart. It makes me feel so tingly all over." Then she hugged me even tighter than before.

We just stood there in the hallway for the next few minutes hugging each other and telling each other how happy we were and how much we loved each other. Mom's arms were holding me tight with my head resting on her breasts again and I was feeling that same warm and tingly sensation wash over my body again just like it did that time she held me close sitting on my bed. And I was thinking about what Mom just said about feeling tingly all over and started to wonder if she was having the same kind of feeling that I had. I could feel my cock beginning to stir as it started to get hard and I began to panic because I knew that Mom would be certain to feel my hard cock pressing against her body and would know that I had a hard-on. That would have been the ultimate embarrassment. But before it got very far, Mom took in a sharp breath and to my great relief, pulled her body slightly back from the firm pressure it had been making on my body and looked down at me and said,

"Oh my goodness, I don't believe I almost forgot. Danny honey, don't you want to hear my good news?"

I said, "You bet Mom. But what could be better than this." And again to my relief my cock settled down and began reverting back to its normal flaccid state.

"Well", Mom said, "for the past several months I have been looking for a job. We can't live on Dad's insurance money forever you know. And on Wednesday I landed a great position with DataTech as a software programmer and I start on Monday." (Mom had majored in computer science in college and had worked part time from home as a computer programmer before Dad died.)

And I said, "Wow! That's the best news ever Mom. Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh Boy! That's really great!" and I started hugging her all over again.

Mom laughed with me and said, "Yes it is my darling and I'm excited too. Everything is going to be different for us from now on Danny, just like I promised you. We are going to be happy again and have fun together, just you and me, just like we used to. Now let's go in and sit down for a moment. I have something I want to say to you; something that I need to say to you."

Mom then took me by the hand and led me into the family room and sat down on the couch and sat me down next to her, and then took my hands in hers and looked at me and said,

"There is something I want to say to you now Danny, and I want you to just listen until I finish."

Suddenly, I had this cold feeling sweep through me. Mom looked so serious sitting there and I was terrified that whatever she wanted to tell me would be something very bad that would ruin our wonderful newly found happiness. I was so afraid I couldn't speak. So I just nodded my head up and down yes, waiting for her to begin, and she started,

"I know I haven't been a very good mother these past three years since Dad died, and I am so sorry and ashamed. I was so wrapped up in my grief over losing your father that I forgot that you loved him too and missed him as much as I did. I should have been there for you when you needed me more than ever and I wasn't, and that was inexcusable. Your father would never have forgiven my behavior, and I will never forgive myself for letting him down, but more importantly, letting you down in your time of greatest need. I hope somehow, someday, that you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

I started to open my mouth to protest that there was nothing to forgive and Mom quickly put her fingers on my lips and said,

"No, don't say anything yet. I'm not finished. Just listen. Your father was my life, the center of my universe, my strength, my support, my love, and my lover— the man who was the anchor of my life. When he died, I felt like I had died with him and I just fell apart not caring whether I lived or not. It was you Danny, my love, who brought me back from the depths of total despair when I found you in your room last year crying over me. You unburdened your heart with all your love and concern for me and your fears for our future together. It was like a splash of cold water in the face. As I sat there holding you in my arms it came to me that you were not crying for yourself, but for me. You made me realize that I had been selfishly wallowing in my own grief and not paying any attention to you and your needs, while you were doing just the opposite, being the rock in our family, not thinking of yourself, but instead loving me, and thinking only of me, and how to make me happy. I was so ashamed of myself, and I vowed then that all of that would change. Dad is gone, and nothing will ever change that. We will always love him, miss him, and hold him in a special place in our hearts for as long as we live. But we have to get on with life, not look back, and be strong for each other. You taught me that sweetheart. From now on Danny it will be just you and me. You are the man in my life now— my rock, my strength, my love, and my reason for living. I will never, ever leave you alone again. I will always be here for you and all your needs forever. We are going to have a great life together my love."

And then she hugged me tight again and kissed me on my forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips, but not as a man kisses a woman, but as a mother kisses her son. I felt like I had just been given a gift from heaven. My Mom was back! ... and I was her rock! ... the man in her life!!. It was exhilarating and I was overcome with emotion and love for my mother. And I said,

"Oh Mom, I love you more than ever. It will be just you and me. Just you and me Mom. I'll always be here for you too— forever. I wish I could marry you.!"

Mom laughed and said, "That's sweet honey. But you don't really mean that. You are going to grow into a fine man soon and meet a beautiful woman who will steal your heart. You will sweep her off her feet and make her your wife and she will have your babies and keep your home. And when that day comes, as it surely will, that will make me the happiest mother in the world, and I just hope that you will still have room in your heart for your mother. But until that day comes my love, it will be just you and me my darling." And that's exactly the way it has turned out.

For the next couple of years, Mom and I had a wonderful normal life together. She was vibrant, happy, totally involved in my life going to my school activities, spending time with me on weekends, going to movies with me, eating out together, and helping with advice and suggestions on how to deal with girls as I started to notice their delectable feminine assets and struggled with the normal adolescent quandary of how to relate to them. She was very successful in her work earning three promotions in two years. In short my Mom was happy again, fun to be with, and she treated me like I was one of her friends her own age, never talking down to me and always asking for my opinions and advice on things. We were buddies and there was never any hint of anything sexual between us during this time, either by her or me. But that was about to change soon; for sure on my part, as well as on her part too, (but I didn't find about that until a number of years later).

I loved my new life with my mother, but life does go on and it was not too long after that happy day that I began my entry into puberty (only at the time I had never even heard of the word puberty and had no clue what it meant.) My voice started to crack and change, and I noticed a few wiry black hairs beginning to grow down in my crotch, and most significantly, I started to have wet dreams from time to time and would often wake up in the morning with a raging hard on. And I started to take an interest in the cute girls in my class at school, noticing their pretty legs, their spreading and shapely hips and tight round bottoms, and those pert budding breasts with their taught nipples— especially the girls who were blooming faster than others and had nice big soft tits that reminded me so much of my Mom's tits.

It was about that time that I discovered the pleasures of masturbation and used to beat off fairly regularly— behind closed doors in private of course. Like any other normal adolescent, my hormones were raging, and my interest in everything about sex took off like a rocket. I had my own little stash of Playboy and Hustler magazines hidden in my room to look at while I beat my meat. Timmy had snitched them for me from a big pile he said his dad had in their basement. He said his dad had so many that he would never miss them. Sometimes I would just look at those beautiful naked tits and pussies and imagine that I was fucking them while I jacked off. And sometimes I would just lay on my bed slowly beating my meat while fantasizing that I was sucking on Becky Hazlett's tits while she sucked on my cock and swallowed my cum telling me how much she loved its taste and the feel of it sliding down her throat while she begged for more. (Becky was one of the girl's in my class with really big tits).

Now lest you think that the bit about cock sucking and cum swallowing in my fantasies indicated that I had a sophisticated knowledge of all the kinds of sexual acts and pleasures that men and women liked, you would be wrong. At that very early time in my sexual awakening, the extent of my knowledge came from two sources; the bragging my buddies and I used to engage in as we lied to each other trying to impress each other with how manly or worldly we were, when none of us really knew what we were talking about; and the porno letters from readers sections in Playboy and Hustler where the main topics always seemed to be all about fucking, eating pussy, sucking cocks, and swallowing cum. Fucking I understood real well, and cock sucking seemed like it was pretty close to fucking, just using the girl's mouth instead of her cunt. But eating a pussy or swallowing cum was beyond me at that time. The whole idea of sticking my face, mouth and tongue down there where a girl went to the bathroom seemed pretty bad. And I for sure couldn't understand why any woman would want to swallow something that came out of my piss hole. But I thought that if they were in Playboy and Hustler all the time that there must be some forbidden, secret, exotic pleasure to be derived from them that I just didn't know about yet, and wouldn't find out about until I experienced them myself. So the women in my fantasies loved to suck my cock, eat my cum, and then beg me to cum some more in their mouths just like they did in Playboy and Hustler letters from readers.

I don't know when or exactly why it actually began, but I started to replace the women in my fantasies that I was dreaming about fucking and sucking with my mother. In my fantasies I would fuck my mom until she would scream with pleasure as she came, and then afterwards she would suck my cock until I exploded again and swallow my cum, and then she would beg me to cum some more in her mouth. Soon my mother became the object of all my fantasies replacing the Playboy bunnies and the girls in my class with big tits. I had many fantasies about Mom; mainly about her desire and hunger for having me fuck her and for her sucking my cock and eating my cum.

Sometimes in my fantasies she would be meeting me at the door naked when I came home from school and would immediately drop to her knees and pull out my cock and start sucking on it telling me how hungry she was for my cum. Other times I would be sleeping at night and she would crawl into my bed and suck on my sleeping limp cock until it got hard and then beg me to shove it in to her cunt because she couldn't sleep without my cock in her.

But as much as I loved those fantasies about mom and the intense orgasms that I derived from them while beating off my cock and shooting out my cum, each time, as I was coming down off my orgasm, I always had a kind of nagging, underlying feeling of shame in using my mother as the object of my sexual pleasure. In my innermost thoughts, I knew that people would find my fantasies revolting if they knew about them and I was afraid that there was something fundamentally wrong with me; that I wasn't normal, because sons were not supposed to have such feelings for their mother, and that maybe I was becoming a degenerate pervert.

However the sexual urge fueled by the ecstatic pleasure I got from beating off to those fantasies was so strong and compelling that I suppressed all those nagging feelings and rationalized in my mind that because Mom loved me so much, and I loved her and, in her words I was "her man", and it was "just you and me my darling," that we were a special case, and it had to be natural and beautiful for Mom and I to have wild, passionate sex with each other. Then finally, about two months before I turned 15, it happened!

It was on a Friday afternoon in April and, I was in school sitting in homeroom right after lunch listening to the teacher, when an announcement was made over the school intercom. After school baseball practice was cancelled for the day because the grounds keepers were re-sodding the grass on the field to take advantage of the favorable weather and practice would resume as scheduled on Monday. I welcomed the announcement because I never looked forward to Friday afternoon baseball practices since it meant not getting home until 7:00 pm or later— putting a crimp in getting started on early Friday night fun with my buddies. School was out around three and my buddies and I met up out in front of the school to decide what we were going to do that night. It didn't take long to agree on taking some of the girls to the movies at one of the malls to see if we could have any success at getting a few good feels. That sounded good to me and I saw Becky Hazlett (one of the girls with big tits) standing in a group of girls next to us about 50 feet away.

I stepped over and said, "Hey Becky, wanna go to the flicks with me tonight down at the mall." And she smiled and said, "Sure Danny. I'd love to." I said, "Great. I'll meet you there about 7 and maybe afterwards we can get some pizza at Tony's, ok?."