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It had been a week since my ex-girlfriend, Rachel, had broken up with me. Like all my relationships, it ended the same way. “You’re a great guy… you just don’t seem like my type.” Or, “I just don’t think things are going to work out with us.” At first I thought I was that I was too nice, too beta, but then I realized that wasn’t it. I was able to project confidence and show the women I dated that I knew what I wanted in life.
No, the real reason, I decided, was my dirty mind. My fantasies were grim and dark. The college girls I found around me, the available ones, tended to want a steady, normal relationship. I wanted a girlfriend I could tie up, blindfold, spank, and fuck ’til I was satisfied. Maybe I just didn’t find a kinky enough girl. Whenever I mentioned these things, the inevitable “breakup talk” tended to happen.
Whatever the reasons, I was once again single. I was driving home to spend the weekend with my mom. As a senior in college, I only had a few more weeks until graduation. She lived about three hours from Macon University, where I was studying computer science. I was set to graduate with honors and get a nice, steady-paying job as soon as I was finished with my classes.
On the way down, my thoughts drifted to the weekend ahead. I was looking forward to it. My mom and I had always been close. Maybe we could hang out and watch some old movies, a favorite ritual of ours. I might even convince her to bake me her homemade apple pie. One of my favorites.
I pulled up in the driveway around three pm, seeing my mother come out and wave. It had been a couple years since I’d last seen her. She had been out of the country on a work detail. She did humanitarian work, often helping out in difficult regions such as Africa and India. It was challenging, she said, but the kind of work she loved.
Seeing my mom now, I was struck by how different she looked. She had always been attractive, but now she looked stunning, even beautiful. Her red-blonde hair was pinned up in a slightly messy bun and she’d applied a little makeup. Her figure, which had been shapely before, looked a bit thinner, probably from the grueling hours she’d been working. But her breasts were still quite round and full, her waist slender and her hips nicely shaped. She was wearing a comfortable-looking, flowing summer sundress and drying her hands on a towel. I realized I was staring and coughed to clear my throat. She hurried up to me with a beaming smile, grasping my shoulder and pulling me close for a kiss on the cheek.
“David! I’m so happy you made it. You look great!”
“Thanks mom, so do you.” I hauled my backpack over my shoulder. “How are things?”
“Good, good. I’m making that apple pie you love so much.”
“You’re awesome. How’s work going?”
We chatted and caught up on the way inside. She told me she’d been working at the local office, her days a jumble of phone calls and paperwork. Since my dad had died a few years ago to a heart attack, she had been living alone. I worried about her here by herself, but she assured me she was fine.
“You’d better not be working yourself to death,” I said in a lightly chastising voice.
“Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Thanks for being concerned, but really, I’m okay.” She took the pie out of the oven and set it down to cool. I sat at the kitchen table, drinking some iced tea. “Whew. Maybe it’s too hot for pie. You think?”
“Yeah, I’d say so, right now. It does smell divine, though.”
She sat down next to me, pouring herself some tea and crossing her leg. My eyes unconsciously lowered, catching the sliver of thigh exposed under her dress. I could see the softness of her calf and the delicate curve of her bare foot. “School’s going well?”
“Yep. All set to graduate.”
“Good. Your girlfriend? Rachel? How’s she doing?”
I told her on the phone about Rachel when we’d started dating, but not about the breakup. I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “We’re actually not dating anymore. She…she broke up with me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“It’s okay.” I didn’t want to go into the details of my love life with my mom. I just shook my glass a little bit, the cubes rattling. “Have you…seen anyone since dad?”
She flushed a bit at my question but shook her head. “I met a couple guys at work who seemed interested, but just never could make myself go out on a date.”
“I worry about you here alone, mom. Don’t you get lonely?”
She squeezed my hand. “You don’t need to worry. Your old mom knows how to take care of herself.”
“You’re not old.”
She chuckled and patted my hand. “And you’re a flatterer. Now finish up that tea so we can head out to the lake. It’s a perfect day for it.”
A vigorous day canoeing together left me pleasantly tired that night as I climbed into my old creaky bed. My mom and I had spent several hours on the lake, then come home to a meal of fresh salad greens and a light pasta dish with veggies and tuna. ataşehir escort bayan She was a great cook, leaving me satisfied after every meal.
We had talked for several hours out there today. I thought through our conversation, fragments of it clinging to her mind. She had told me about work and some of the stress she’d been dealing with. Before, she had been able to work it out by going to boxing classes, but the instructor had moved away, so that wasn’t an option. She’d tried to keep it up at home with DVDs, but found that it wasn’t doing the trick. As a result, she’d been more stressed than usual, warning me in case she snapped or became irritable.
“You’re not irritable, mom,” I told her, kissing her cheek. “You’re the sweetest person I know.”
“I hope so, sweetie.” She had looked worried, the lovely, lean lines of her face creasing slightly in a frown of concern. “I never want to be a mean old grouch to my sweet, loving son.”
At dinner, I had seen the stress taking its toll on her. It showed in her movements and expression. She had once seemed so happy, so light-hearted. Now her shoulders slumped slightly and she appeared tired and careworn. I wanted to take the pain away, to ease her sadness somehow. But I didn’t know what to do.
To complicate things, my own troubling desires were getting worse. I pulled my cock out, stroking myself slowly as I begun doing to get myself to sleep. I had a high sex drive, something I could deal with when I was dating, but now I was single, I had to take care of it myself. I closed my eyes and relax into my pillow, letting my fantasies take control.
In my mind’s eye, I saw a woman, naked and bound, her body draped across a bed, facedown. She was blindfolded, her hands tied behind her back. Her pussy was wet and exposed, glistening. She was gagged as well, her lips puckering around the red ball in her mouth. She moaned softly and squirmed in arousal. In my vision, I saw myself coming toward her, my hand lightly stroking her bare ass as she squirmed beneath me. I let my hand come down on her backside once, twice, and then a third time, drawing moans from her with each blow. I noticed she was growing wetter every time my hand connected with her flesh.
I took my cock out, stroking the fat head up and down her slit. Soon it was coated in both her wetness and mine. I pushed in deep, giving no warning, taking her by surprise. She sucked in a breath and moaned around the gag, filled by my large, veined cock. I began fucking her, filling her over and over with my thick shaft, pressing my fingers to her clit. Soon she was cumming around me, easily brought to orgasm from the many hours she had been waiting in that submissive position.
I kissed her and removed the blindfold, taking the gag off next. I stroked her hair, realizing it was the same strawberry-blonde as —
Oh my god, I realized. Am I really jerking off to thoughts of my own mother?
I tried to stop myself, but I groaned at the fantasy, feeling hot cum spurting out onto my fingers. Every stroke of my cock sent powerful waves of pleasure through my body. I lay there, spent, trying to parse out what this complication meant.
I was twisted. Sick. What kind of guy had weird bondage fantasies — especially about his own mother?
I cleaned myself up with a tissue and sighed. I’d have to figure it out in the morning. Fitfully, I fell into a dreamless, restless sleep.
My mom and I went out on the lake again the next day. It was slightly cloudy, the air humid and hot. Crickets chirped, the cicadas bringing up a chorus around us. The water was choppy, forcing us to paddle carefully as we went. I suspected a storm was coming.
We fell into conversation again, the topic turning to my relationships. I was uncomfortable discussing this with her, but at the same time it felt good to get it out. I told her about the issue with Rachel and how she had broken up with me after citing “irreconcilable differences.”
“What do you think it was?” Mom asked.
“Me, probably. I tend to be the issue.”
“What do you mean, ‘you’?”
“I mean…” I trailed off, my paddle moving slowly through the water. “I have some…fantasies…and most of my girlfriends aren’t comfortable with them. Any time I try to talk about it, they don’t understand.”
I expected her to seem disgusted, but she simply nodded. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl yet. When your father and I got married, I learned some very interesting things about his…bedroom desires.” She laughed.
“Aw, mom. You don’t have to tell me about that.”
She looked silently at the water, then gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “He enjoyed bondage. I wasn’t into it at first, but then I found it to be incredibly freeing. Sometimes he would just tie me up when I came home from work, if he was here. Instead of getting mad, I felt…relaxed. Clear-headed.” She blushed as if she realized what she was telling escort kadıköy me and paddled a little harder. “I know you don’t want to hear about this from your old mum.”
In truth, I was both shocked and aroused. I couldn’t believe she was telling me about her sex life, yet I wanted her to go on. “It’s…it’s okay. I don’t mind.”
She bit her lip, looking into my eyes. “Are you sure you want to know?”
I was looking back at her, my paddle having stalled. Something tense and electric passed between us in that look, a feeling I’d never had before. I felt my cock twitch and cursed myself silently for my twisted desires.
“Yeah…I do wanna know.”
She lowered her gaze again, then nodded. “Keep paddling. We’re losing steam.”
The two of us guided the canoe up along to the bank and set it to shore. We got out and began walking along the bank, talking quietly. She told me in depth about her and my father’s relationship. I suppose it was easier hearing this now, when he was no longer living. She explained the rocky start to their marriage, how things had been rough between them. She wanted sex, as did he, but he was too passive. One day they had gone to see a therapist — who suggested my father try being the initiator. Then, as he had started tying her up, taking control in the bedroom, their relationship changed.
My father had become more confident, as did my mom. In public they seemed like any normal married couple, but she had felt — as she’d described it — free. Allowed to submit to him in private, she could relax and let him take control. He had become her protector, her lover, her friend. When I was conceived, things never changed, except that the two of them had been elated.
They had kept their relationship private from me, of course. I knew they would sometimes go behind closed doors and I would hear soft moans and the occasional grunt. It was years later before I put two and two together and realized what was going on. I never knew about the bondage, of course, but I knew they were fucking.
“What was it you liked most?” I asked my mom as we came down to the edge of the bank and took a seat on the grass, staring out at the water.
“Of what he did to me?”
She thought for a moment. “There were so many things… I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.” She blushed for a minute and bit her lip. “I don’t really think I can say it out loud.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
She laughed nervously. “I think we crossed that bridge a long time ago.”
I realized we were on dangerous territory, skirting the boundary of what was appropriate for mother and son to be discussing. There was something, though, about that lake. The drifting water. The sounds of the woods around us. The humid air. The smell of the forest, woodsy and rustic. The knowledge I would be leaving in a few days and we wouldn’t see each other again for several weeks, maybe longer.
After another moment of hesitation, her eyes passing over me, my mother continued. “There was one time that he calmly tied my wrists, leaving my eyes without the blindfold. He took me in the bedroom and closed the door, sitting down on the bed. He undressed me, leaving me naked and bound in front of him. Unzipping his jeans, he instructed me to kneel and ‘perform oral sex’ on him. Something in the way he said it was so cold, so clinical…it struck a chord in me.” She shivered slightly in spite of the fact it was not cold at all, and I realized she was aroused.
My mother, sucking cock at the edge of the bed, wrists bound behind her, pussy dripping. Something about that image was so erotic, so totally wrong… I realized I was also aroused, shifting uncomfortably on the bank. “It’s getting late,” I said. “Maybe we should head home.”
She nodded and stood up, dusting off the backs of her shorts. “I didn’t realize…we’ve been out here talking for hours.”
Her words replayed in my mind as we paddled home. We ate in silence for some time; the tension between us was thick. I decided to swallow my fear and tell her the real truth about me and Rachel.
“Mom…I didn’t give you much of an explanation for why I broke up with my ex before. I feel like I should tell you…”
“You don’t have to, baby. I understand if you’re not comfortable.”
“It’s okay. After what you told me today, it seems pretty small.” I laughed nervously. “Um…the truth is, I told Rachel I fantasized about tying her up. She was freaked out and decided to bolt. It had happened before, so I wasn’t that surprised.”
My mom tilted her head curiously. “Tying her up…sexually?”
“Yeah. I’ve always had erotic fantasies about tying women up.” I smiled wryly. “I guess it runs in the family.”
She chuckled, though I could see the flush at her cheeks. “I had no idea, David. Though…I suppose I’m not that surprised. You take after your father in many ways.”
After dinner, we went into the living bostancı escort room to watch some old movies on TV. She sat next to me as usual, her hand resting on my arm as we sipped some more iced tea. She had her legs crossed, but the glimmer of thigh was there again. I wasn’t paying much attention to the movie, to be honest. My mind was too full of what my mom had told me, my body feeling electric, my cock hard in my pants.
As the film went on, she crept a little closer to me, setting her glass down. She drew her arm around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and we snuggled like that for a little bit. It was a familiar position, one we had fallen into since I was a kid. Now, it felt…oddly uncomfortable. I was aware of her breasts resting slightly against my arm, of the rise and fall of her breathing. The softness of her hair against my chin. Her hand just inches from my thigh and the large bulge in my crotch. I hoped she didn’t notice.
“David,” she said softly at one point, “can I ask you something? It might seem…weird…and you can say no if you want.”
“What is it, mom?”
She bit her lip, turning to look up at me, her eyes beautiful and almost afraid. “I wanted to know if…no, it’s silly. Nevermind.”
“What? You can ask me.”
“It’s…” She trailed off for a second, then said in a small, nervous voice, “I wanted to know if you wanted to go into the bedroom. To see your father’s ropes and things.”
My heart leapt in my chest. “Yeah, mom, I would.”
She nodded and we stood, walking down the hallway together. I followed her, aware of every step of her bare feet down the wooden floor. That electricity was back, the tension between us. She was just going to show me the ropes and bondage stuff. It was no big deal. Right? She knew I was interested, after all.
Inside her bedroom, she took out a small shoebox from the closet. She set it on the bed and took the lid off. Inside were a set of white silk ropes and ties, as well as some blindfolds and a gag. I recognized these things from my nightly fantasies and wondered if somehow…somehow I had come across them in my youth, then buried the memory. Maybe it had been too strange, too forbidden, for my conscious mind to contemplate.
Surely not. I would have remembered.
“You can touch them if you want.”
I looked up to mom, then reached into the box and took out the ropes. They were bound up neatly and looked as though they hadn’t been used in a long time. The gag was the same. It had a few slight indentations, bite marks perhaps. The blindfolds felt silky and smooth. I ran one between my fingers, then looked up to my mom. She had a strange expression on her face, looking a little nervous, a little excited, and a little flushed. Was she aroused? By me? Surely not.
“They feel soft,” I said.
“Do you like it?”
She hesitated and looked down into the box. She lout out a soft little breath and asked, barely above a whisper, “Would you like to tie me up?”
The question triggered something inside me. All the tension from the past several weeks since my breakup finally faded. I felt a sense of calm and confidence. Whatever was happening between us right now… perhaps it was wrong, but I didn’t care. I just knew it felt good. It felt right.
She must have heard the change in my voice, because she looked up, meeting my eyes. I saw a change come over her as well. Her shoulders lost their slump, straightening, her breasts pushing out toward me. Her gaze softened, becoming more earnest, less careworn. Compliant.
“I want you to take off your clothes first.”
Our eyes remained locked, heat passing between us. I saw her struggle with the same difficult emotions I was feeling. Slowly, her hand went to the back of her dress, releasing the tie. It loosened around her shoulders, the fabric pooling and bunching. It shimmered down her body, falling to her ankles, revealing her naked form.
I sucked in a breath at the sight. God, she was incredible. Her breasts had begun to sag slightly, the mounds full and large. Were those really her nipples? They were swollen and puffy, so much bigger than I had imagined. Her belly was soft, mostly firm from her workouts, yet with a slight middle age softness. Her navel was a perfect dark oval, and as my eyes trailed lower, I felt my cock twitch. Her mound was covered by a triangle of trimmed hair, leading to puffy, soft labia and the pink lips of her vagina. Lower still, her smooth thighs and hairless knees, calves, and feet. I lifted my gaze again to her face, seeing the vulnerability, the need for reassurance.
I stepped close and put my hand to her cheek, cupping it. “You’re beautiful. You’re amazing, mom.”
Her eyes glimmered slightly with tears. She wiped them away and said, “Thank you.”
Then she kissed me. It was unexpected, almost chaste…just our lips pressing together, her hands on my shoulders. But it was not a mother-son kiss. It lasted several seconds, our mingled breathing the only sound in the room. When she broke the kiss and looked at me, her eyes were glassy, her pupils dilated. “Can I…” she breathed.
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