Mother’s Hidden Desire

  • Posted on May 4, 2015 at 11:49 am

By JetBoy

My mother Amy is the sweetest person I know — shy and soft-spoken, a lovely woman with a good heart who I adore more than I can put into words. Our relationship is very different from most mothers and daughters, though, and this is about how that came to be.

Mother got pregnant when she was in high school, and the jerk who was responsible took off for parts unknown as soon as he got the news, so I never had a father to speak of. She did a wonderful job of raising me on her own, though, with lots and lots of help from my grandparents. They put her through college, looking after me during her classes. She graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business, and was quickly hired by a local accounting firm. Within six years, she’d worked her way up to a partnership, then bought us a home of our own.

My mother showered me with affection; she always made time for me when I needed it, always gave freely of herself. As a little girl, she would hold me in her arms for hours when I was sad or frightened. I was her baby doll, her Julia.

We lived a fairly typical life as mother and daughter, until one day I discovered the deep feelings that dwelled beneath Mother’s quiet exterior — feelings that would lead us both to a beautiful new intimacy as lovers.

And though our life together has been flavored with the spice of romance, somehow our relationship as parent and child has remained intact. She remains my mother, and I her daughter, even when we make love.

The handful of people in whom I’ve confided about Mother and I always ask me how it happened. Here’s the story.

One summer morning, while she was at the office, I was about to take a walk in a nearby park, and wanted to borrow this nice peach-colored blouse she had. My mother and I fit into the same sized clothes, and even though our styles were very different, sometimes we like to wear each other’s things. Anyhow, I was rummaging through her top dresser drawer, looking for the blouse, when my hand closed on something flat at the bottom. I withdrew the object and examined it closely. It was a paperback book with a plain blue cover that read Lesbian Incest.

Intrigued, the blouse forgotten, I took this book to my room. I spent several hours caught in its spell, reading the stories of women and girls who found love with their mothers, their sisters, their aunts, their daughters.

The interviews got to me in a big way. This wasn’t fiction, but the stories of real people who loved and wanted and acted, often risking everything they had in the pursuit of passion. At the time, I had been questioning my own sexuality, and many of these women were dealing about thoughts and feelings that I was trying to come to terms with myself.

As I read, I began to wonder why my mother owned this book. Then, as I made my way through its pages, another, more unsettling question reared its head: does Mother feel this way about me? Does she fantasize about being my lover?

I was stunned that the thought had even occurred to me — and once there, found it impossible to shake. I was no stranger to lesbian love play, having experimented with other girls at my high school. I’d loved it, and was now wondering if I might be gay… but in my wildest imaginings, I’d never considered the possibility of sex with my own mother!

Once the idea had entered my mind, though, it took root. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it… about her. I imagined Mother naked and in my arms, her hands caressing my body, kissing my mouth over and over, touching me in intimate places – and then I began to fantasize about loving her in the very same way. It was pretty unsettling, to say the least; especially when I found myself getting extremely turned on.

The more I pictured it, the more inviting the idea seemed. Our relationship was so close and loving as it was, so somehow the notion of taking what we had between us to a new level really made sense.

Somehow I ended up spread out on my bed, masturbating furiously while imagining Mother and I making passionate love. When I came, it was so intense that the very universe seemed to shift on its axis. I’d never had an orgasm like that before.

I lay motionless for a long time after that, feeling my heartbeat slow to its measured rhythm, pondering this newfound desire for my mother. Oh, I knew that such cravings were supposed to be immoral, forbidden… but I didn’t care. The idea of us being lovers just felt right, somehow. All I knew was that I wanted to make my fantasy happen.

How to go about such a thing, though, was a puzzler. What easy way is there to let your own mother know that you want to go to bed with her? I didn’t think I could just take her in my arms and kiss her — but, strangely enough, it almost happened that way.

It was a Friday night, about a week after I discovered my true feelings for Mother. We were spending a typical evening together, and she had cooked a wonderful meal for us both. After dinner we were relaxing on the couch, listening to chamber music. I was feeling so in love with her right then that I had to say something. So I just let my heart take over.

I turned to her and said, “Mother… I love you. You take such good care of me.” Gazing deep into her shining eyes I kissed her gently and whispered, “I want to take care of you, now.” Then I drew her into my arms.

As I held her, she rested her face against my shoulder and sighed, “Sweet Julia.” I felt a few warm tears against my skin.

I raised her face to mine and kissed her again, my lips lingering against hers a little longer this time.

I could feel Mother’s heart pound with excitement as her body nestled into mine. That was when I was certain she did want me, every bit as much as I hungered for her.

I bent to briefly nuzzle my mother’s soft neck, then raised my face to hers, our noses almost touching. Her eyes were shining with love, but I saw desire there as well — a fierce need for the love between us to become something more.

Unable and unwilling to restrain myself for another second, I closed the brief gap between us and our mouths met again. This time, her lips hesitantly parted, and so did mine. I slipped my tongue into my mother’s mouth, and she shivered in my arms.

Soon we were kissing passionately, her tongue joining mine in a sweet, hot duet. My hands found their way beneath her sweater to cup her breasts. Mother moaned into my mouth, her own hands slipping down to fondle my ass. I teased her nipples with my fingers.

My mother’s touch was gossamer and her hands warmed my skin. We fondled and caressed one another, kissing again and again, speaking not a word. None were needed.

Finally I stood and took her hand, leading Mother to my bedroom. But first we kissed some more, leaning against my door and making out like shy but excited schoolgirls.

I undressed her slowly, one article of clothing at a time, unveiling her body. My mother carried a few extra pounds, and there was a slight sag to her breasts, but these imperfections only made her seem lovelier to me. She was a real woman, a vision of fully ripened beauty — and now she was mine.

When she was naked I laid her down, kissing her mouth first, then trailing my way down her body with my lips and tongue. Her neck… her shoulders… her full, creamy breasts, capped by pert pink nipples that I licked lovingly… her tummy, then lower.

I searched out her wet center and found sweet honey dripping there. Gently parting her thighs, I kissed inside the opening flower. She cried out wordlessly, her fingers tangling in my blonde curls. I took my mother in my mouth, exploring her with a probing tongue. She came for me, and it was beautiful.

As Mother caught her breath I rested my cheek on her thigh, gazing in wonder at her glistening sex… the door from which I’d come into the world sixteen years ago. She had a neatly trimmed pubic triangle, hued a golden brown; the flesh of her vulva as elegant as an exotic orchid. I breathed deeply of my mother’s thick scent, still savoring her flavor on my lips.

Then her eyes fluttered open, and she anxiously drew me to her, whispering “Oh, baby… my precious…” her mouth claiming mine in a fevered kiss.

Breaking away, Mother rolled me onto my back, a fire in her eyes that I’d never seen before. I sank into the pillow, offering myself up to this wonderful woman who had given me life.

My mother worshiped my breasts with her caresses. My nipples tingled to her touch. When she loved me with her fingers my clit throbbed for her. My first orgasm astonished me when I came in her mouth. I didn’t expect it so quickly and it hit me hard, like a bolt of electricity. She soothed me then, her lips grazing my vulva in the gentlest of kisses until I found myself once more.

We lay together a long time after that in each other’s arms, gazing into one another’s eyes, sharing soft kisses. Mother smiled at me, resting her hand on my cheek… and I twisted to nuzzle her palm. “Oh Julia, my angel,” she whispered, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” Her eyes were growing moist with joyous tears. “I’ve wanted this — you and me, together — for a long time.”

I nibbled at her ear and murmured “I love you too, Mother… you mean everything to me.”

I made her wet and she made me drip. Her naked body was like warm velvet against mine. She ran her hands down my back as we kissed hungrily, already wanting more. She caressed my ass, putting a finger to my most intimate opening, and I gasped with delight when she penetrated my rectum, right up to the third knuckle. I panted, “That feels so good, Mother… I like having you inside me…”

“I love you, sweetness, and I love being inside you… touching your beautiful, beautiful body…”

As she gently fingered me, I found myself transported to a place of love, of magic. Our mutual arousal quickly rose to fever pitch, and Mother and I shifted positions on the bed so we could be in each other’s mouths.

I licked her thighs, drunk on the perfumed heat of her body, then buried my nose in her bush to taste the wetness that was so sweet on my tongue, the thick, warm wine that flowed between her thighs. She kissed and licked at my shaved pussy, her every touch a poem of love for me. As she drank from my body I heard myself gasping over the ecstatic rush in my head. “Mother… oh, Mother…”

I was lost to time. All I could do was feel — her hands fondling my bottom, her lips brushing my clit, her flower in my mouth, mine in hers. Then she licked her way to my anus, her tongue sliding wetly through the crack of my ass, and I felt such a consuming joy that I thought I might cry. No lover had ever done such a thing for me. The knowledge that she was willing to pleasure me there only made fed the adoration I felt for my wonderful mother.

Wanting to do the same for her, I buried my face between her cheeks and kissed her asshole like it was my mother’s luscious mouth. I cupped her pussy, stroking her clitoris with my thumb — and she responded with a choked cry, plunging two fingers into my cunt.

I don’t know who came first, but I heard us both moaning as ecstasy poured down upon us like torrents of summer rain. We rode our climaxes together, continuing to pleasure each other for as long as our bodies could take it. Finally we cried out in unison as this pure delight rose to one last, impossible peak, then slowly dimmed to a comforting glow.

Mother and I lay entwined, exchanging vows of love, swearing mutual devotion. You see, we both knew that this was the real thing; that we were meant to be lovers for the rest of our lives. We held one another close crying tears of joy, our only regret having taken so long to find this perfect thing that we now shared.

We two have been a couple for three years, and that time has been pure bliss for us both. We are mother and daughter, best friends, roommates and lovers. She is still sweet, shy and soft-spoken, still the parent who helps to make everything right when the cares of the world are too much to take; our nude bodies tangled together in the warmth of the bed we share.

Mother and I love to fantasize about her teaching me the pleasures of incest as a little girl. In fact, we often play sweet pretending games where I am a child of anywhere from six to ten, Mommy taking me to bed to show me a new way of loving.

Those are wonderful times, as is every moment of sexual intimacy she and I enjoy… but the memory of us coming together on that first night is the one I cherish above all.


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