geronimo_appleby
always on the move
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
intro to one i'm working on. dunno if it'll get finished:
<i><b>Alicia</b></i>
Out of the three, I’ve always been closest to William, although we’ve always called him Billy. Not that have any favourite, I love Adam and Carl just as much, but Billy was still living at home when it happened. He saw me at my lowest and was the one who helped me the most during the divorce. Billy got me back on my feet, gave me back my confidence with his insistence on diet and exercise. He turned me around and even transformed me. Adam and Carl did what they could, but Billy got me through.
He’s also the one I seduced first.
<i><b>*</b></i>
Or it might be he seduced me. I can’t really be sure. That time is a little vague, if I’m honest. Although, having said that, I can remember the moment I first recognised the man in my son. It’s so clear, so vivid – like it’s only just happened.
“You’re looking good, Mum,” Billy had said.
Not that I was feeling it at the time. When Billy uttered that fateful statement, and put his hand on my stomach, I was flat on my back gasping up at the ceiling and feeling less than lovely.
“That’s it for today,” added my son. “Good work,” he said with the flat of his palm on my tummy. “I can feel you getting tighter.”
I felt the burn in my muscles and continued sucking in air like I’d just crossed the line in a marathon. He had me up to forty minutes of circuits by then. Which was agony at the time but so worth it later on. He let me lie there for a minute or so with his palm on my belly and his thumb on my sternum while the tip of his pinkie was set right on my mound.
There’s no doubt in my mind Billy was innocent and completely without guile. He didn’t mean to touch me in such an intimate way, there was no licentious intent. But the touch was provocative and I lay there confused while all manner of impressions assaulted me.
With my son’s hand resting on my body, right over where I’d carried him twenty years previously, I experienced a sudden upsurge of maternal love for the man he’d become. And when I looked up to his face I saw the emotion reciprocated.
“Thanks, Billy,” I gasped as realisation rushed home. It suddenly dawned my son had grown into a good-looking young man and, idiotically, I wondered just when it had happened.
Billy needed a shave, which came as another surprise, and when I examined him further, really opening my eyes, I saw broad, powerful shoulders and the big muscles in his arms.
I gulped at the visceral tug, a definite quiver of sexual attraction which rippled through me as I went up on to my elbows. I looked down along the front of my body and saw his hand was still there, the tip of the little finger still ever so slightly inappropriately placed.
It came out of nowhere. I felt a quick surge of carnal desire, a burst of horniness that had me sucking in air while my vulva flooded with warmth. Taken by surprise, I swallowed heavily again while struggling against an abrupt and near overwhelming urge to reach up and pull my son in for a kiss.
And I don’t mean a chaste peck on the cheek. No, what I saw was a full-on swirling of tongues, a lover’s kiss which signalled a woman’s desire to be taken. I imagined us both on the gym floor, mother and son rolling and gasping and clutching at flesh while we gasped with our need.
In my mind’s eye I saw my son’s hand sneak into my yoga pants while I wanked his full-blooded tumescence. Then we were nude with me straddling his thighs. I squatted, thighs tensing as I held him upright.
He looked up at me, shocked at the sight of my hot greedy cunt nudging the big purple dome.
“Mum?” my son groaned.
“Oh God, Billy,” I murmured.
Then the real-life Billy said it again. I heard him say, “Mum?” his voice coming at me through the mists of my need. “Are you all right,” my son asked.
I blinked in confusion, fuddled by what I was feeling and seeing in my head. “Yes,” I told him. “I’m fine. Just knackered, that’s all.”
His hand came up off my stomach and Billy rose to his feet. “Shower?” he suggested, fists on his hips.
Just for a second I thought he meant both of sharing a stall and it happened again. I looked up at my son and imagined soaping him up. I pictured my palms sliding over his body, the densely packed slabs of muscle on his chest under my hands as they moved down over the ribbed abdomen to the jut of his cock.
I was sodden when my fingers closed around my son’s girth.
“Meet you at the juice bar,” Billy put in, bursting the bubble. “Twenty minutes, all right?”
I waved a hand and somehow managed to gasp, “Yes. Sure. That’s perfect.”
Billy paused before stepping away. “You should stretch,” he instructed, his head tilting before he then nodded and added, “You really are looking good.”
<i><b>*</b></i>
Appalled and ashamed as I was, I still masturbated to orgasm in the shower. My sexual reawakening was too intense, too hungry. I didn’t want to do it, but my body just would not be denied.
<i><b>Alicia</b></i>
Out of the three, I’ve always been closest to William, although we’ve always called him Billy. Not that have any favourite, I love Adam and Carl just as much, but Billy was still living at home when it happened. He saw me at my lowest and was the one who helped me the most during the divorce. Billy got me back on my feet, gave me back my confidence with his insistence on diet and exercise. He turned me around and even transformed me. Adam and Carl did what they could, but Billy got me through.
He’s also the one I seduced first.
<i><b>*</b></i>
Or it might be he seduced me. I can’t really be sure. That time is a little vague, if I’m honest. Although, having said that, I can remember the moment I first recognised the man in my son. It’s so clear, so vivid – like it’s only just happened.
“You’re looking good, Mum,” Billy had said.
Not that I was feeling it at the time. When Billy uttered that fateful statement, and put his hand on my stomach, I was flat on my back gasping up at the ceiling and feeling less than lovely.
“That’s it for today,” added my son. “Good work,” he said with the flat of his palm on my tummy. “I can feel you getting tighter.”
I felt the burn in my muscles and continued sucking in air like I’d just crossed the line in a marathon. He had me up to forty minutes of circuits by then. Which was agony at the time but so worth it later on. He let me lie there for a minute or so with his palm on my belly and his thumb on my sternum while the tip of his pinkie was set right on my mound.
There’s no doubt in my mind Billy was innocent and completely without guile. He didn’t mean to touch me in such an intimate way, there was no licentious intent. But the touch was provocative and I lay there confused while all manner of impressions assaulted me.
With my son’s hand resting on my body, right over where I’d carried him twenty years previously, I experienced a sudden upsurge of maternal love for the man he’d become. And when I looked up to his face I saw the emotion reciprocated.
“Thanks, Billy,” I gasped as realisation rushed home. It suddenly dawned my son had grown into a good-looking young man and, idiotically, I wondered just when it had happened.
Billy needed a shave, which came as another surprise, and when I examined him further, really opening my eyes, I saw broad, powerful shoulders and the big muscles in his arms.
I gulped at the visceral tug, a definite quiver of sexual attraction which rippled through me as I went up on to my elbows. I looked down along the front of my body and saw his hand was still there, the tip of the little finger still ever so slightly inappropriately placed.
It came out of nowhere. I felt a quick surge of carnal desire, a burst of horniness that had me sucking in air while my vulva flooded with warmth. Taken by surprise, I swallowed heavily again while struggling against an abrupt and near overwhelming urge to reach up and pull my son in for a kiss.
And I don’t mean a chaste peck on the cheek. No, what I saw was a full-on swirling of tongues, a lover’s kiss which signalled a woman’s desire to be taken. I imagined us both on the gym floor, mother and son rolling and gasping and clutching at flesh while we gasped with our need.
In my mind’s eye I saw my son’s hand sneak into my yoga pants while I wanked his full-blooded tumescence. Then we were nude with me straddling his thighs. I squatted, thighs tensing as I held him upright.
He looked up at me, shocked at the sight of my hot greedy cunt nudging the big purple dome.
“Mum?” my son groaned.
“Oh God, Billy,” I murmured.
Then the real-life Billy said it again. I heard him say, “Mum?” his voice coming at me through the mists of my need. “Are you all right,” my son asked.
I blinked in confusion, fuddled by what I was feeling and seeing in my head. “Yes,” I told him. “I’m fine. Just knackered, that’s all.”
His hand came up off my stomach and Billy rose to his feet. “Shower?” he suggested, fists on his hips.
Just for a second I thought he meant both of sharing a stall and it happened again. I looked up at my son and imagined soaping him up. I pictured my palms sliding over his body, the densely packed slabs of muscle on his chest under my hands as they moved down over the ribbed abdomen to the jut of his cock.
I was sodden when my fingers closed around my son’s girth.
“Meet you at the juice bar,” Billy put in, bursting the bubble. “Twenty minutes, all right?”
I waved a hand and somehow managed to gasp, “Yes. Sure. That’s perfect.”
Billy paused before stepping away. “You should stretch,” he instructed, his head tilting before he then nodded and added, “You really are looking good.”
<i><b>*</b></i>
Appalled and ashamed as I was, I still masturbated to orgasm in the shower. My sexual reawakening was too intense, too hungry. I didn’t want to do it, but my body just would not be denied.
