1975 - Sex Stories

1975

... regarded the size of the thing and wondered at it. It was significantly bigger than me. I put it back and turned my attention to the book and the money. I counted over four hundred pounds before I carefully returned it to the box. I had no idea where the money had come from, or why Mum hadn’t put it into the bank. The book contained a list of initials and addresses, most of which were local. Beside each were notations of payments made. For a long moment I simply sat on her bed and let the implication wash over me. Was Mum, with all her old fashioned ideals and 1950’s attitude to sex, actually a prostitute? What else could it mean? I put the book back and closed the drawer. Sitting on her bed, I stared about her bedroom. Across from the bed was the small table and mirrors where she would sit and apply make-up. I moved over to it and opened its various drawers. It had never occurred to me to wonder how much make-up she had, but as I regarded the assorted bottles, tins and jars, there seemed to me to be quite a lot. I closed the last draw and my eye caught on a washing basket. I opened it and found several items of dirty clothing inside, including two pairs of knickers. Both were white cotton, with small frills. I picked one up and examined the crotch area. Sure enough, the same heady aroma as I’d found on the phallus filled my head. Immediately I found myself growing hard and within seconds I was lying on her bed, with her knickers on my face and my cock in my hand. Furiously ...

... I brought myself to an intense orgasm, a string of sperm arcing up out of me to land on my sweater. My mind whirling with conflicting emotions, I took my fishing rod and tackle and left the house. I walked out along the river bank to a secluded place and cast out my line. For the next two hours, I sat and thought, and thought and thought until hunger drove me home again. I knew Mum would be out all day and yet somehow I felt disappointed that she was not at home. I wondered at my own reactions. Was I having a crush on my mother, or was I repelled by her? If she was a prostitute, then what did I feel about it? A part of me felt disgusted both at her for being a whore and at myself for becoming sexually excited by the smell of her knickers. I thought about the phallus and sitting at the kitchen table I felt myself growing hard again. I stood up and stared out of the kitchen window which, like the landing above, faced George and Rose’s property. I could see the place where George had groped Mum’s arse and I realised that in my mind, it was no longer her bottom, but most definitely her arse. The doorbell brought me back to reality with a start. On the door step, her hair done up in a tail, I found Sarah. “Hi” she smiled. “Hi” I replied. I looked at her eyes and all my thoughts seemed to evaporate. I didn’t know whether to invite her in or ask her what she wanted. She seemed to sense my hesitation and I saw something like disappointment in her eyes. For a second I almost blurted ...