12 years
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Is F******* with Mom Okay, or What??

Last weekend, some of my male friends and I got together for an evening of drinking beer, reminiscing and discussing various topics of mutual interest. Topics ranged from current events such as the civil war raging in Syria to such mundane topics as what is the best kind of motorcycle to buy on a shoestring budget. Most of us are university students so cost is a high priority. Later, as we began to exhaust the usual range of topics to discuss, one came to mind that I thought might be of interest to us as young males. I was concerned that it might be a taboo subject but I introduced it anyways. I told them that I had read a posting by a PhD who said studies suggest that one percent of young males our age have had some s***** activity with their biological mother by the time they leave home. I was surprised when they replied, “Why don’t you go first, Ernest, and, if you dare, fill us in on what s***** activity that you have had with your mom? It was certainly quite a dare but I felt obliged and the following is an account of what I told them.

About a month ago, my mother was invited by her girl friends to accompany them to a male “s*********” to see what it is like. They had never gone to one before. She accepted their invitation and left, only to return several hours later. Some of the girl friends had accompanied her home and they were laughing and giggling as they walked in the door. All seemed a bit drunk and I just stayed away in an adjoining room. I had recently taken a shower before bed and was wearing only underpants. But what peaked my interest is when I heard them ask Mom what it was like having “f*******” with a male stripper. It seems that a male stripper had invited Mom to perform f******* on him. I had no idea what f******* was at the time, although I figured it might be something s*****. Mom seems to have initially refused to do it but eventually consented when encouraged by her friends. I overheard Mom reply to her friends that she hasn’t done that for a very long time and that it was a treat to do it with such a young man.

Shortly after Mom’s friends left, I emerged from the other room and asked Mom, “What is f*******??” She was surprised that I would ask and after a few moments of reflective thought, explained that f******* is oral s**, where one partner stimulates the g******* of the other partner. She added, “Here, let me show you. I’ll perform f******* on you!” I was dumbfounded hearing such an invitation from my own mom but one needs to understand that alcohol lowers her inhibitions. She says and does things that she would not do when sober. It is at times like these that she asks me really personal questions like “how far that I have gone with your current girl friend?” It really makes me feel uneasy. As she walked over to where I was lying on the sofa, it became clear that she meant what she said. She sat right up next to me, looked into my eyes and smiled, and took hold of my underpants and began pulling them down. I immediately stopped her by grasping her hands and saying, “Mom, I think that would be going a little too far. You are my mom and I am your son. I really don’t think that we should be having oral s**.” Mom hasn’t even seen me naked since I was a child and now she wants to do this? But she would have none of it. When Mom gets an idea in her head, it is impossible to purge it. She was adamant and kept repeating that f******* is benign and that it’s okay if a mother does it to her son. So after futile attempts to dissuade her, I took a fateful decision and released her hands. I knew that from this point on, by allowing her to perform a s** act on me, that our relationship would never be quite as innocent as before. I had this sense of helplessness and foreboding as my mother nonchalantly pulled down my underpants to my ankles and began examining my g******* with delight. She kneeled down in front of me and grasped my “balls” tightly in one hand. With her other hand, she took hold of my p**** and began m*********** it. The stimulation quickly resulted in a full erection and she inserted the tip of my p**** into her mouth. She alternated between sucking hard on it and stimulating it by moving her mouth up and down over it. I could feel her tongue over it as she tried to insert my p**** so deep into her mouth that she came close to gagging. As much as I was reluctant to engage in s***** activity with Mom, it became apparent that I was reaching a s***** high and it began to feel really good. I didn’t want her to stop. I wanted more and more of it. Yes, unbelievably, Mom and I were indeed having s**, albeit, oral s**, and I could not get enough of it. Minutes later, I shouted to Mom, “Mom, I’m c-o-m-i-n-g!” She took hold of my p**** and masturbated it so vigorously that I ejaculated right into her hands. The gush of s**** into her hands was a s***** high for her and she shouted, “There, isn’t that wonderful, Ernest! I have performed f******* on you! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!” I, meanwhile, was trying to regain my composure as I scrambled to pull my underpants back up over my g*******. It was as if I was embarrassed that Mom would see me naked, notwithstanding what had just transpired. She just said, “It’s all right, son”, and left the room wearing a smile.

The next morning, Mom apologized for asserting her will on me without my explicit approval. She said that alcohol makes her do “strange things”. She made me swear that I wouldn’t say a thing about it to my dad, who would certainly be appalled. I think she feels that she has committed i***** and she doesn’t want others to find out about it. From my own perspective, I think it is something that we should strive to put behind us. I’m trying not to think about those several minutes when having oral s** with her felt so very, very nice.
Having related this experience to my friends, it was time for all to leave but we made a promise that we would discuss it further the next time we get together. It will be interesting to what s***** activity, if any, they have had with their mothers.
Anonymous Son

New Confession

When it was time for me to go to college it was decided i would live with my aunt (father’s sister), whoblived less than ten miles from the college. No one was worried about me running wild with parties or booze or drugs. The issue was that while i had always been a straoght A student, my grades slipped some or at least would swing back and forth some once i discovered my body, i was obsessively playing with myself. My father conisdered it a normal phase but my mother was freaked out by it (and she was right to be i was seriously out of control with it, every possible moment spent lost in it). The word gooning did not even exist at the time but yeah that was a thing. Also in my mother’s dedense she is the one who had busted me folded like a pretzel using my mouth on myself and had never told dad. But mom did not know i had accidentally seen her on her knees for dad once which is what gave me the idea to try it. Guess we were a family of secret keepers lol. Anyway there was a big sit down with mom and aunt (who near as any of us knew was an aging lifelong lesbian spinster prude anyway) and mom did not hold back she told my aunt precisely why i needed to be watched and i had to sit there wanting to crawl into a hole and die of shame and embarassment. I could not even look at my aunt but when she spoke disapprovingly i sort of saw the look on her face and it was not good. The only time i spoke was when my aunt assured my mother that she would keep me on a tight leash because i was forced to answer out loud that i realizef snd understood that college was far too expensive to waste the money because i could not keep my hands out of my pants. I also had to promise that i would respect and obey her without question. It was 4 months before i would be moving in with her so that entire summer was a bummer. For some weird reason my mother sort of backed off me a little, when she would launder my sheets or again catching me playing with myself or folded up self s u ck ing, she would just be s***** and tell me to enjoy it while i could, she washing her hands of my deviant and perverted behavior as she put it. As if the life changes and xhsllenges would not be enough stress….for which i always reached between my legs for escape from stress as well as the pleasures i was findjng with my own body.

So the day comes we get me moved in and my mom’s parting words were to remember my promises. It was 2 weeks before classes would start, even i was good with the concept of an adjustment period before classes started. I was nervous walking into my nee bedroom in my aunt’s home. I sat kn my bed feeling dread and nervousness. Finally my aunt called me to the living room saying let’s get this over with. I go to thr living room she is sitting there with a drink and tells me to pay attentiom. I was not expecting to hesr what i heard. She told me that much of what i probably thought i knew about her was either a lie or a mask. That i should not feel ashamed nor fear her. That i probably knherited my little problem from her snd my father’s side of the gene pool because both she and my father had gone through the same heavy cycles with their own bodies and fsced a lot of shame over it. That hers had been seen as perversion because she dod not hide as a lesbian and my father had been addicted to his own lusts. She evenbsaid that while my mother had valid concerns about hoe mh behavior would affect me in many ways that hsd nothing to do with college, that my mother could have handled this better. She asked me if i could trust her and listen to her to handle this her way that would keep me sane, responsible, but not feeling it was a control or punishment issue and that she hoped i felt better about things. We watched tv for the reat of the day and evening. At bedtime she said she would see me in the morning, and said for the night she only asked one thing of me, to not touch myself at all. With my anxiety even i was too mentally exhausted to argue much less think about it. She did recomend that i wear multiple layers of tight underwear to avoid the chances of overnight e r e ct ions, like that was a normal convo for an aunt and nephew to have.

The next morning she woke me up with a hey sleepyhead, handing me a glass of orange juice. I sat up in bed and took it, and almost choked. It was a heavily poured mimosa. She laughed and told me to come sit with her and talk
She touched a little more on the previous talk and issues, then we sat watching old movies while killing the bottle of champagne with less and less orange juice. We were both heavily buzzed esp since it was my first alcohol. The talking ended and i was a little startled when she spoke my name. She was smoking a cigarette and just staring me down. She saidn “you know i am strictly lesbian right?:” i blushed and nodded. She asked if i was a morning or evening shower type, and i told her it varied. She smiled oddly and i turned so red when she said my mother had also told her that when they first discussed myb”dirty little problem,” and that my mother had told her i used shower time sometimes when i was using my own mouth. God i wanted to die and i started shedding tears. She told me to stop, that if she had s c*** she would probably s*** herself all the time and she was jealous. I was shocked by her frankness and even saying the word c***, and she stood up and told me to follow her, it was shower time and from now on we were both morning shower people to save watet and the electric bill. She was several feet ahead of me since i was buzzed and trying to figure out if she just said what i thought she said, and halfway down the hall she shed her robe, with nothing on underneath. She looked back at me with a grin, and asked me to grab her robe, and entered the bathroom and i heard her start the shower. By the time i had the courage to enter the bathroom, she had not turned on the light, and when i did she told me to turn it off, she didnt wsnt me to have a heart attack seeing a woman naked for the first time. She told me to get undressed and step in. I took a deep breath and did so.

The natural lighting was dim, and her back was to me, but she certainly seemed to have a spectacular outline. Not huge curves but very appealing. She eas standing with arms over her head wetting her hair and told me to not get my hopes up, a lesbian is a lesbian. As she began to wash her hair, she matter of factly told me that we would shower together each morning, and for today at least i was welcome to touch myself while we were there. I was frozen and scared. She looked over her shoulder and told me again….go ahead, i am not doing it for you. She continued washing her hair with her back to me and i had gotten hard without even realizing it, and began to mas tur bate. I was so excited i knew i would not last long and my legs started shaking and i was gasping. She turned around head tilted and smiled, her eyes roamed up and down me, she said as if her thoughts out loud…..how interesting. I moaned, my legs almost collapsing, and she lifted my chin and said “look at me and let it happen..
” i lost it and climaxed so violently i could barely even be conscious as my body fought to empty itself as her eyes held mine. It felt like forever before i stopped gasping and spasming, and she just talked softly to me as i came back down. I was looking everywhere but at her i felt so ashamed but she told me to calm down and catch my breath, and moved me into the water to calm me down. She told me to scoot over and she stepped into the water and i saw my s e m en on her slight belly and started apologizing but she told me to shut up, and grabbed the soap and gently washed me, then asked me to do the same for her. She was chuckling at how my hands shook. She had to snap me back to awareness a few times as i soaped her bare body. As i did so she told me that being a lesbian did not mean she did mot hate being touched. I guess i ws so nervous and had come so hard my body didnt get all worked up again. It became comfortable as we toweled each other off, she put her robe back on, gave me a playful slap on the a**, and told me to go fet dressed and come back because now we really needed to talk and set boundaries.

To be continued.

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