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Each summer, we'd go to our seaside
cottage for three months. My dad had to work during the week and only
came down at weekends for most of that time. So it was just me and my
mother (I always called her maman although we're not French), lazy
days of semi-naked meals on the balcony, and swimming and, as I got
older, a growing complicity between us. Maman liked to flirt wearing
nothing but the skimpiest bikini. Sometimes, I'd see her naked
through the bathroom door or her bedroom door which, surely by
accident, had been left ajar. The tan lines from her bikini framed
her little breasts whose purse-like sagginess I loved, her plump,
shapely bottom and her bush of dark pubes. Once, I caught her banding over and saw clearly her pink, curly haired cleft and a hint of the dark place between her buttocks. And yes, afterwards in the
safety of my room at night, I'd masturbate for hours while thinking of those forbidden
glimpses. My own mother. But if there was any shame, my desire quickly stifled it. And then, the following happened towards the middle of the wonderful summer when I was 15 and barely in control of my sexual feelings.
Six a.m. I hear maman cough quietly in
her room next door. On an impulse, I go to her door and open it
without knocking. The curtains are drawn but I can make out her slim form
on the rumpled bed, covered below the waist with a sheet. Her pale
shoulders and little breasts are bare, her blonde hair splashed across the pillow. I know she is awake but
neither of us speak. I move slowly to her in the dim, greyish light
and sit carefully on the side of the bed, expecting her to cover herself. She
doesn't and I can feel her eyes, attentive, reading my face as I
stare at her bare breasts flattened on her chest. Very gently, I lean
slowly forward and take her left nipple between my lips. Her body
tenses slightly but she offers no resistance. My tongue finds the tip
of her nipple and pulls it further into my mouth; I begin to suckle,
rolling her nipple between my tongue and upper lip and licking the
liquid flesh of the surrounding breast. Her eyes are closed now and
she arches her upper body slightly, offering herself to my mouth. I'm
aware of her hand moving on herself under the sheet and realise that
she wants to masturbate. Unobtrusively I reach down and pull my penis
free of my pajama pants and begin to masturbate myself. Suckle and
masturbate. My mother, plying her cunt, and her free arm clasped
round my neck, locking my mouth to her breasts, is making almost
inaudible moans of contentment. Suddenly we are both spurting.
Afterwards, we lay quietly until she whispered to me that I should
go. I feared she might be angry but when we met later in the kitchen
for breakfast she smiled and hugged me, kissed me and whispered
"darling". I immediately felt renewed desire and she was
aware of it. She pushed me gently away to create a space between our
bodies and whispered: "Sweetheart, there must be rules and you
must promise to obey me." "Of course I promise," I
said. She made me sit down with her and slipped her hand inside my
pajama trousers cupping my cock and balls "I will caress you but
you must never, ever try to touch me below the waist," she said.
"You know what I mean. I mean down there in my secret place. You
can play with my breasts as much as you want but never down there."
It was a promise neither of us would keep.
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