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College

Allan and His Mom
by Allan and his Mom
as told to Oediplex

Part 1

Preface and Introduction:

Several months ago in response to one of my stories, Allan wrote to me that he had an actual affair with his mother. I encouraged him to write it out. While he is not from the US, his English is excellent and I only needed to do a little ‘Oediting’ to smooth occasional usage, but the words are Allan’s, and the memories are of both his and his mother’s; as she was supportive and acted in a consulting capacity for the project.

As to the veracity and truth of the story I can vouch this information. I have been reading almost all mother/son incest stories that were out there anywhere for the past fifty years and nowhere has this plot, characters, setting, or anything else been produced anywhere close to this. It is an original story, of that I am quite sure. The richness of the detail, the duel perspective of mother and son, the consistent thread of the story even when related in earlier and disjointed form all are evidence this tale is not made up.

Knowing this gives their narrative a super-charged zing to the hot sex Allan describes with his Mom. He builds the story from his earliest hint of his mom’s openness to an ongoing relationship, and the journey carries us to the throes of ecstasy too. This is what every Oediplex OediPal fantasizes about. Allan got to live it out!

[For another true story see Tom Hathaway, Taboo: A Memoir]

Oediplex 8==3~

Preliminary Hints

After my sister’s marriage there was interesting the change in Mom’s behavior: she had been always very modest at home (what she did outside was another thing…) she seemed to be more relaxed and less careful in the way she dressed. Just two quick examples: once I came home in the mid-afternoon and she called me from the laundry room asking if I was alone. I said yes and went there. To my surprise (and delight) she was pressing a dress wearing only panties, bra, girdle and stockings.

The panties and bra were made of sheer nylon fabrics and completely see-through showing the nipples and the aureoles. We chatted until she finish pressing the dress and I followed her close admiring her butt fully exposed underneath the panties, the crack between the mounds completely visible. This was maybe the first but certainly not the last time she exhibited her body to me.

Once I planned to spend the weekend with some other folks on the farm of one of the guy’s parents. It was some three hours driving and we were to set off early on a Saturday morning, around 5:30; they would pick me up about then. I woke up and after preparing a quick breakfast I was ready to leave when I saw mommy coming in my direction. She was wearing only a tiny nightgown that went down to me mid of her thighs. She came close and start giving some advises stuff like don’t drink too much and the safety concerns on the road and all kind of the things a mother always says to her son when they are living home. At the end she hugged me, pressing her body against mine.

Instinctively I put both hands around her waist pulling her body strongly against mine while feeling her warm breath against my tee shirt. My open hand slithered down over her butt and I didn’t feel the elastic band of panties. Mom was naked underneath. I would learn later that she never wore panties to sleep. When she gave me a good bye kiss I moved my head quickly so her lips touched mine. And it wasn’t only a quick rub; our lips stayed together of a larger lapse of time than it would be expected. If I weren’t wearing tight jeans, for sure she would have felt the hardness of my prick against her lower groin.

Another important thing I learned was her difference in behavior when we there just the two of us as opposed to when my father was around. When we were alone she was much more affectionate, more relaxed, she hugged me and kiss me in a different way and after that morning farewell we got into the habit of kissing slightly in the lips. In the other occasion I was studying in my room when she knocked the door and stepped in with soda and snacks in a tray.

Being the first days of December in the Southern Hemisphere it was pretty hot and she was wearing shorts and a light shirt. After putting the tray on my desk she came close to receive the usual kiss and I held her by the waist and pulled her against me. Mom sat on lap and put both arms over my shoulders and we stay like that talking for a long time.

Before Christmas season my father told us that the Medical School where he was teaching had appointed him to take one-month training in a new gastro-surgery sponsored by the Royal College of Surgeons in London. The course would take the whole month of January. Firstly I supposed that Mom would travel with him but to my surprise she immediately declined saying that London in January would be too cold for her.

My casino oyna granddad eventually consented to give me a car but only after I had started in college, which meant March of next year. So I was trying to figure out something to do during January and February, maybe accept the offer from a friend to remodel an old sailboat he had bought and was planning to use for a around the globe sailing after he completed his degree. The money wasn’t great but at least I would have food, beer and fun for the rest of the summer. It was then my mother came with a proposal…

The Beach House

One afternoon, just after Christmas, Mom asked about my plans for the rest of the summer. I briefly explained my thoughts, and when I asked about hers she told me she might spend the period my Father would be in London in a house my granddad had in a condominium by the sea. This house was received a few months before as part of payment in a case he had worked as attorney. Since he wasn’t interested in keep it he would put it for sale and Mom thought she might like to enjoy it before it was gone.

She mentioned about taking a friend, one of her best two friends that was divorced at the time. This woman, one of Mom’s tennis pals had a fifteen years old daughter. My mother never had been there so she, her friend and the daughter drove there one day. The place wasn’t too far away, may be 170 miles north of where we lived and served by a nice new highway. She was visibly disappointed at night upon her return.

She explained that the things weren’t exactly like she imagined: what was supposed to be a gated community was unfinished since the developer went bankruptcy before ending the work. Most of the streets weren’t even paved and there was a portico but not a gate and just few scattered houses had been built. In the other hand the house was very good, roomy and just finished. The daughter of Mom’s friend was very clear saying that she never would spent three weeks in that middle of nowhere and she rather spend the summer with her father. Her mother was a little more polite but used the daughter refusal as an excuse to decline the invitation.

At the same time my friend told me that he only could start working in the boat the last week of January since he was needed as help by his father in their hardware shop. That evening, talking to Mom, I volunteer to go along with her to the summerhouse. In the beginning she was trying to dissuade me saying that for sure I going to get bored in few days that was a desert place far away from the small city and a series of reasons. Eventually we came to an agreement: if I got bored she would bring me back home. My father departed right after New Year’s Day and we traveled a day later.

My first impression of the place wasn’t any good but I did my best to hide it from Mom saying that it was okay. The house itself was very interesting, built with demolition materials; the floor was covered with beautiful old pine planks and the high ceiling showing the ancient 12′ by 12″ wooden square beams still bearing the remnants of its old paint. The internal doors were also from old houses that had begun to be demolished in the town. The walls of the living room were built with recycled old bricks and left exposed.

After all the things were settled and the house organized we decided to go to the city to have lunch. It was mid-afternoon, we were both starving. The little city by the sea was very poor at that time. Out of the whole circuit of beach cities around the area we lived, it only started a rocketing growth after they discover offshore oil in the mid eighties right in front of what was then, almost a village.

Ten years prior to petroleum discovery it was almost like at the beginning of the century when it was an important harbor for sugar exports. After the decline of the sugar industry the center of the city seemed frozen in time. Most of the one or two story buildings in front of a large square plaza facing the river were from the beginning of 20th century.

After lunch we went back home and Mom decided to take a nap and I sat in the front porch to enjoy the breeze coming from the ocean. The water was only a few yards from the house and hidden by a tall dune covered by strange low vegetation. After sometime I decided to explore the area and walked to the north side of the peninsula where the development was located. Behind the dune there was a somewhat (at least compared to the two adjacent beaches) long beach, something like half a mile long.

This beach was flanked by two coves, one a little bigger but the second was very small and with very difficult access. It was necessary to climb up the rocks through a narrow path and then go down a steep slope of sand. In the middle of the diminutive cove there was a rock formation against which the surging surf made sprays of water, a few feet from the beach line. The north face of the peninsula faced open ocean and conversely to the slot oyna wide beach in southern side the sea was much tougher and with high waves. The peculiarity of this small cove was that if one stays behind the rocks the water was calm but otherwise, on both sides, there was a strong undertow current.

I probably strolled around for a couple of hours and then decided to go back home. Mom was waiting for me sitting in the porch hammock and reading a book. We had a brief chat I went inside for a shower and we prepared a light meal. Needless to say there was no TV or any other kind of amenity so after another chat session in the dark porch we decided that was time to sleep, at least I, that haven’t had a nap was pretty tired. We locked the house but even so, the Venetian shutters provided an almost air conditioning with the ocean wind whispering in the sea pines that surround the house.

After a goodnight kiss Mom went to her room and I stayed in the kitchen, drinking water. When I turn off the hallway lights I perceived a point of bright light in Mom’s room door. I found out the reason: the old door still sported the original locks with the old skeleton key system. I couldn’t hold out against temptation and silently approached the door and knelling in front looked trough keyhole.

Mom had just released her ponytail and immediately begun to undress. With quick movements she removed the blouse exposing the naked breasts. The short and panties followed in order and I could see again her naked body in its full splendor. Unfortunately she moved out of my field vision and when returned she was already wearing a light nightgown.

The vision of her naked body sparked some feelings that I had believed were dead long ago. Conversely from my beliefs they were only dormant, waiting the first opportunity to upsurge into its full strength. That night, for the first time in two years, I masturbated thinking of my mother. After having my horniness relieved I begun to think about the subject.

What seemed in the beginning a good idea, to stay with Mom in that place, would become a torture chamber! Up to that moment I was conscious that my sexual fondness for Mom was some sort of wishful thinking. It was great in my dirtiest dreams, but I never consider it would really happen or that my Mom would accept to have sexual relations with her own son. With windmills in my mind I fell asleep with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Next day, after the breakfast, we went to the city to buy fresh fish in the town market. The city wasn’t so awfully far from our house, but it was a bit of a walk. By car it was a mere five minutes. After preparing the fish (Mom is an excellent cook) we went to the beach by our place. Mom was wearing a bikini but nothing that would be considered too sexy. It was a typical bikini to be worn by women at Mom’s age (at forties then).

Being a light skin person Mom remained under the umbrella reading for most of the time. Around 1:00 PM we went back home and before showering we worked in our lunch: Mom placed the full fish we had bought that morning in the oven and put some potatoes to boil. After that she went to the bathroom while I was fixing the table. Mom added more excitement to my sexual high up by walking out of the bathroom wrapped in a short towel.

Instead of going directly to her room she went to the kitchen where I was helping with the preparation of our lunch. To add more pain to my misery she crouched in front of the oven to check the how the fish was. By doing it she forced the towel upwards exposing half of her butt! I avidly rushed to the bathroom and under the cold water I relieved another load of sperm.

During the lunch I was hit by a sort of guilty feeling. I felt heartbroken from my dirty feelings on my mother. In my thoughts it was one thing for an eighteen years old boy, virgin and inexperienced to be having sexual attraction to his mother. Unusual though, perhaps even unnatural I reasoned, was it for eighteen years old experienced man, having the same kind of feelings. What I would learn later was that my mother had an opposite view on that kind of relationship; when we later openly talked about the subject, she said she never would accept to have sexual relationship with her own fourteen years old son, though she was now having one with him four years later.

The next few days nothing changed in our routine and I made a point to not peer on Mom again. One morning I woke up feeling something different in the air. It took me sometime to become aware of it: the wind that continuously blew from the ocean stopped. We followed our routine but returning from the beach we felt the difference: under the bright sun and without the wind blowing the house became an oven!

We were feeling like in a sauna and the first thing we decided was to replace the lunch by a quick meal: only sandwiches and a salad. We opened all windows but it was of little help especially my room that faced west and was receiving canlı casino siteleri all the heat. Around four o’clock I Mom came out of her room saying that she was melting. I invited her to go to the beach front were the temperature would be milder. I suggested we should go to the small cove were the high cliffs that framed the shore would provide some shade at that time of the day.

Half of the cove was already in the shade and the temperature was remarkably milder than in our house. We sat on the sands and we begun to chat. At a certain moment I told Mom I was going to water and invited her to do the same. I was wearing my Bermuda shorts so it wasn’t a big deal. I supposed that Mom would do the same since she was wearing a halter-top and short cutoffs. To my surprise she removed the top and shorts and only in panties and bra grabbed my hand and we went to the water.

It must be pointed out that Mom wasn’t wearing a bikini or skimpy underwear. Hers were old-fashioned cotton pieces, maybe even larger than her bikinis. The water was delicious and refreshed our sweaty bodies but at the same time her panties, once soaked, became completely transparent. Even so she didn’t show any discomfort when we stepped out of the sea and propped up our elbows we laid on the sand.

Furtively I start looking at her lower belly and the triangle of golden hair divided by the pussy lips was entirely visible. We stay there for a long time; I silently praying to Mom not perceive my erection under the shorts. When the sun was low enough in the horizon to keep the whole cove in the shade we decided that was time to leave.

We went back to water to remove the sand from our bodies. I put my shirt back and to my surprise; I expect Mom to do the same, she turned her back to me and removed the bra, dressing in the halter top and then, with a quick movement, she lowered the panties exposing her magnificent derriere and hastily put the shorts on. It didn’t last more than few seconds but was an unforgettable view of her bare buttocks just few feet from me!

The house remained hot as hell and we decided to rush to the city to buy two fans. Back home we installed one fan in the porch and sat together in the hammock. Once again it was an exciting sensation to feel Mom’s bare leg against mine. I put an arm over her shoulders and she leaned her head on my chest. We stay there for a long time in silence. I was thinking about on the future of the relationship with my mother and feeling guilty about the feelings I had for her.

About that afternoon it was great to watch her bare butt, but on the other hand I felt like betraying her confidence. The fact that she, in a so unaffected and innocent way had exposed her body, seemed to me as a token of trusting her own son and not that she hadn’t meant to exhibit her body in any sexual way. I was living very tough moments: tormented by my adult view of the problem and plagued by what I considered childish feelings.

My brainstorm was interrupted by Mom’s voice: “Let’s do something different: let’s go back to town and have dinner in that seafood restaurant of the first day!” I quickly showered and we headed back to the city. I was wearing Bermuda shorts and Mom a sleeveless dress shirt in light cotton fabrics. As is easy to imagine, the small rural city at nearly nine o’clock in the evening of a week day was almost deserted.

We sat in the restaurant and ordered lemonade; both my mother and I weren’t fond of alcoholic beverages in spite of once a while I drank beer. During the dinner Mom did her best to keep a conversation and I pretended to be interested answering her questions and talk mostly about my experiences in US. After the dinner she invited me to walk in the small promenade in the river front.

Trees covered the plaza and the promenade was some half-mile long, stretching far away from the plaza. As we walked, Mom held my hand entwining her fingers on mine. At a certain moment I put my hand over her shoulders and she held me by the waist. Eventually we arrived at an old place were the barges had once moored to be loaded with sugar. There was still the ramp and to sets of stairs, one in each side of the incline. We went downstairs to the cement loading platform almost at the water level. An iron railing surrounded the platform and Mom leaned over it looking at the river while I was few feet behind leaning against the still warm cement wall.

Once again was Mom who broke the silence between us: “Allan, tell me sincerely: are you bored to be here?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Please be honest with your mother, it seems to me that you are unhappy with the situation but as a good son you don’t want to complain or ruin my stay here. If this is the case let’s pack and return to home tomorrow morning. I’m not sure that your old mother is the best companion to a young man like you.”

I assured to my mother that it was all okay and promised to her I would openly tell when and if I get bored. Then, in a sudden impetus, I came close to her and wrapped my arms against her body pressing my belly against her bottom. “Do me a favor, never say again this foolish: by any means you are NOT my OLD mother!”

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