Since my father was a bit pf a standoffish typical man of that generation, and my mother did most of the parenting, naturally I was bonded to her more closely than with my father and I ended up being more her son than his. It was always most obvious this time of year at holiday gatherings. He would usually be parked in his recliner watching sports or whatever while I helped her in the kitchen. We would talk and laugh in the kitchen the whole time as he snored his way through whatever holiday it was. Now admittedly I was a bit of a momma’s boy and not his idea of a man. One year when I was in my early twenties the kitchen joking with my mother god a bit bawdier than usual and I was seeing her in a different light, as a woman more than as a mother. I ended up getting painfully erect and had to excuse myself briefly to adjust myself so that I was not trapped down my leg. I was wearing loose enough pants that it was not super visible. Was only out of the kitchen for a brief moment and when I came back to the kitchen after a moment my mother said that I must have just had the worlds record quickest w***. My face burned and she laughed, telling me it was ok that I had gotten turned on by the banter. It made me comfortable enough to breathe a sigh of relief and tell her that it was not a w*** just a re adjust. It was quiet for a moment and she asked me to come over to the stove and taste some of th3 food to see if it was seasoned. As she spoon fed me a taste for some reason it qas incredibly intimate and e*****. I guess she read my thoughts and she turned back to the stove. But she told me to stand behind her and give her a hug, and since I was aroused none of the red flags went off in my head. All I could process was that my arms were around her waist and a woman was in my arms and through our clothes my erection was pressed against her a**. It was hard to maintain composure but when she pressed back into me especially back against my hips I could not stop myself from gasping and moaning softly and holding her tightly against me. She took my hands and placed them on her waist snd told me it was ok to do what I wanted to do. And just like that I was dry h****** slowly against her bottom and even through clothes it felt incredible. She ground back against me matching my movements and it got pretty intense. Between the clothing blocking direct contact and the mental block of what I was doing with my mother I could not get off and was fidgeting and frustrated. She pushed back and I thought she was putting a stop to it but she was just getting room to put her elbows on the countertop then told me to not hold myself back. I pressed tightly against her and leaned forward over her back and she softly told me it was ok, to do what I needed to do. In moments I was so close and she must have known, because she took her elbows off the counter and took my hands from her hips and pulled them up to cup her breasts through her dress and bra. That was all it took and I was shooting in my pants and moaning. When my shuddering stopped finally she raised up and told me to go get cleaned up. When I came back she smiled at me and I blushed and smiled. Dinner went tamely and after dinner of course my father had nodded off again. After a bit as we watched TV she casually slid her hand into my lap and soon I was hard as steel. She chuckled and patted my groin and told me I should go do another adjustment. When I returned she suggested we return to the kitchen and prep dessert. When we were in the kitchen I was immediately holding her and fondling her through her dress. She took the same position of elbows on the counter and I was immediately behind her grinding again. She allowed that for a few minutes then told me she had adjusted as well, and told me to lift up the back of her dress. I gasped when I saw her spectacular full cheeks bare, and she giggled and said that her adjustment was to take off her p******. She looked over her shoulder at me and simply said to take what I needed. The thought that my father was sleeping in the next room did not matter. This being my mother did not matter. My pants and underwear hit the floor around my ankles and I samk into the heat and soaking wetness in a single thrust. She simply sighed and told me to hold out as long as I could but that after years of no s** she was good with whatever I could give her. I went long and slow, and a new side of her emerged. Between her gasps and soft moans she said such things as I would never have imagined coming from her. That now I knew how good mommy p**** was. That I would never be able to go without it again. That from now on this was what the phrase “coming home” meant. It did not take long before she knew I was close, and she told me to c** fkr mommy. I came so hard I swore my balls were going to explode and my head was pounding. When she felt me go limp and slip out of her she told me she needed to go her her p****** back on or she would be leaving a wet spot on the sofa. When she came back to sit next to me as my father still snored she grabbed a quilt and threw over us and laid her her on my shoulder. But soon her hand slid to my groin coaxing me to life again and she opened my pants and slowly stroked me. It was so hard to take but she had me shaking and put her free hand over my mouth and whispered those words again….c** for mommy. I flooded her hand and as my c*** softened she rubbed it all over my balls and groin. Then without a word she stretched out and laid her head in my lap and slipped her hand into her p****** under the quilt. She whispered up to me…..you can do this next time but this time please play with mommy’s t***. I watched the beauty of her o***** in her face as she shuddered under the blanket. Then she put her wet fingers to my mouth and let me taste her. That was the beginning of me becoming my mother’s lover more as time went on. More to follow.