Mother Takes the Cream

A reasonably short stroke piece with this submission. It's been a while since I submitted to Lit, and thought it was time to add another scene to the count.

It begins mid-affair, the deed has been done, and I pick it up one morning with the mother preparing for an encounter with her son.

As ever, I hope you enjoy the scene. Feedback is appreciated. If you want to let me know your thoughts you can use the Public Comments forum below, email or by dropping me a PM.

I apologise for any errors that remain in the piece; I self-edit and often miss stuff that on subsequent reads through are obvious howlers. It seems no matter how much I go over stuff, even putting it on Kindle as an editing tool, I still miss things.

Anyway, here 'tis.

GA – Benissa, Spain – 12th November 2013.

Prologue

Diane wriggled into the skirt, tugging it over her hips before tucking in the pristine white blouse and zipping the skirt at the side. She turned this way and that, checking her profile and the smooth sweep of the skirt over her buttocks. Then, patting the flat plane of her stomach, pleased at the way the blouse stayed tucked in tight, as smart as a soldier on parade, Diane smiled at her reflection.

She checked the drop of the skirt's hem, concerned about the length. It would do, she decided. Not too short, and it wasn't obvious she was wearing stockings underneath. Not that she would be too long out in public view, but she didn't want people to see too much. Diane knew she would feel self-conscious enough as it was going out in a tight skirt and no underwear, she didn't need to give herself any more anxiety by wondering if people had guessed what a slut she really was. Her tummy flipped when the reason for wearing stockings came to mind. Illicit desire, the deep taboo of her yearning slid from her pussy. She shivered, thrilled and appalled in equal measure as she looked at her reflection, wondering who the woman was in the mirror. She had changed so much recently, really shocked herself by being drawn in to such wickedness. Diane didn't recognise herself.

Pushing the thoughts aside – it was a little late for what if – Diane examined her make-up, a final inspection and a quick tease of her fingers through her hair, mussing the shoulder length blonde coiffure for the effect she knew he liked, apparently casual but expensive to achieve.

Diane shrugged into the jacket, the one that matched the skirt and gave her the brisk, professional look she cultivated. After all, she was a brisk, professional woman. A busy lady in the world of real estate and she had to look the part.

Moving in front of the full-length mirror again she posed and pouted at her image, eyeing herself and affecting a hot-eyed expression of desire. As an experiment she lifted the hem of the skirt, squirming to move the edge up far enough to expose her pudendum. Then, captivated, Diane stared, thrilled by the effect of her plump pussy framed by garter belt and stockings, her vulva nestled there all cosy between her thighs.

She considered giving herself a little rub but decided against it, her husband might catch her at it and ruin everything. He would wonder why she wore stockings for work and ask questions she wasn't prepared to answer. Diane was already confused enough without further complications. The affair consumed her, caused all manner of conflicting emotions to bubble up. One minute she was caught up in the heady rush of excitement, the sheer recklessness thrilling her – it was so bad, so wicked – but at other times the guilt was almost crippling.

What was she thinking? How would it all end? How could it end?

Diane sighed, vacillating as she smoothed the skirt down over her hips. For the umpteenth time that morning she convinced herself she wouldn't do it. She would be strong and would not succumb to the base urge that drove her.

But deep down she knew she was only kidding herself. Diane knew that despite her internal wrangling and good intentions she wouldn't be able to resist the lure of illicit sex. As bad as she knew she'd feel in the immediate aftermath, she couldn't deny herself.

"Right, I'm off," she said, breezing through the kitchen.

Her husband glanced up from the breakfast table. "Okay," he responded. "Have a good day." His eyes dropped to the newspaper – he offered no endearments, no goodbye kiss.

In the face of this bland indifference Diane stared at him for a few seconds. It was a look of such hostility that, if he had glanced up and seen it, might have made him question the cause of his wife's venomous expression.

She shook her head slowly from side-to-side, contempt curling her lip. That clinched it. She'd had doubts, lots of them, but now she would do it.

"I'm going to work, Liam!" Diane called up the stairs as she paused at the front door.

"Okay," came her son's reply. "See you."

Diane opened the door and stepped outside. She closed it behind her and studied the street – Victorian terraced houses, cars parked along the kerb, a typical road in a typical town in Lincolnshire, nothing out of the ordinary. But the assignation awaiting her that day was anything but ordinary. Diane wondered if anyone else in the street had committed a sin as huge as hers, behaved in such a degenerate way. Diane breathed a sigh and decided it was unlikely anyone else in that street had been so steeped in depravity, with the exception of one person, obviously.

Diane walked the three steps to the gate, heels tapping on the flagstones. The gate opened with a squeaky protest and she strode out onto the pavement. Turning left, Diane threw a glance up towards the second storey window, top left in the red brick façade. She couldn't make out if anyone up there was watching, so she walked away, heading for the silver Golf four cars up the road.

It was a benign morning, mid-June, and after Diane changed shoes, the heels were not conducive to road safety, she turned the ignition key, the Golf's engine catching immediately. Diane pulled out of the line of cars lining the road nose-to-tail, but that day, instead of making her way to the great artery of the A1, her usual route, Diane drove to the town centre and parked in the multi-storey.

She was sitting in Starbucks with a skinny decaf latte – caramel – when her mobile phone announced the receipt of a text.

Diane picked up the device and looked at the screen. She saw a two-worded message that despite its brevity caused a flip-flop sensation in her stomach: He's gone, she read.

The hands that grasped the steering wheel of the Golf a few minutes later trembled, and later, after changing back into the heels, the legs that carried Diane to her front door felt weak. Knock-kneed with anticipation she wondered – and not for the first time – just what it was that motivated her.

She was shaking all over when, after closing the front door to her home behind her, Diane stepped onto the first tread of the stairs.

When she pushed open his bedroom door her son, naked, with his hard-on in one fist, looked at her and smiled.

"Hello, Mum," he said.

One

"Oh God," Diane breathed, her eyes fixed on Liam's erection. "Just look at you."

Liam lay on his double bed, quilt thrown aside, his erection upright. He looked at his mother, still smiling. "Are you going to come in?" he asked.

Diane hesitated. She had one hand on the door handle, half-in half-out of his room. Liam saw her blink, her eyes going from his face to his cock before sliding away to her right, away from him.

"Come in, Mum," said Liam, his tone firm. He watched her, his stare flat and level, a predatory look. "Come on, Mum," he cajoled, almost wheedling. "I've been waiting for you." Liam stroked his length and then gripped it close to its root. "Look at how much I want you, Mum."

Diane's head lifted gradually. She gulped and with apparent reluctance turned her face towards her son.

"We shouldn't..." she breathed.

With her expression troubled, eyes wide and locked on her own son's long cock, Diane's head moved side-to-side with slow metronomic regularity.

"Liam," she continued, her tongue sliding over suddenly dry lips. "This isn't right. We ... We..."

"But you want to, Mum," Liam said, interrupting his mother. "You say all that stuff; you say we shouldn't, it's wrong ... but you want to, Mum. I know you do. You like it just as much as I do."

Liam waggled his hard-on in emphasis.

"You know I'm right," he insisted, his hand moving up and down to maintain the full-bodied tumescence. "So why don't you just come in. Close the door. Come over here, Mum." He beckoned with a wave of his free hand. "Come here. Kiss me."

Drawn by her son's voice, lulled by his gentle tone, Diane took two steps into his bedroom.

"Shut the door, Mum," Liam instructed. "I like it closed."

"Oh," Diane said, although the sound was more whimper than word. She paused, hesitating, still unsure.

But she couldn't help herself, the sight of her son caressing his own cock, the sight of it so terribly fascinating, enticed her deeper into the room.

"That's it," Liam purred. He let go of his dick and eased onto his side to face her, one elbow against the bed, his temple resting against his fist as he grinned and watched her come closer. "You look good, Mum," he added, his eyes roving over Diane's smart suit. "Really good."

He reached out, fingers extended, palm up.

"What did you tell them?" Liam asked as his mother moved towards him.

In an automatic response Diane touched the tips of her son's fingers with her own. Liam's hand closed on hers. She stared down at him, glancing at his erection before his gaze pulled her attention to his eyes.

"That I had to go to the dentist," Diane mumbled. "They said as long as I could get to work by lunchtime..."

Then she was on the bed, one knee resting on the mattress, a hand supporting herself on one straight arm as she hovered above Liam.

Liam released his mother's hand to reach up towards her. His fingers pushed into her hair and he brought her head down slowly, his eyes locked on hers. He saw her reluctance but continued to ease his mother's face closer, rising from the bed to meet her.

"Oh no," Diane mumbled a second before her son's lips touched hers.

And then she capitulated, simply relaxed, the tension flowing out of her muscles when she relented and accepted her son's tongue.

Abruptly ardent, Diane clambered onto the bed. She was eager for him by then, her breath panting into Liam's open mouth, her hands against his face as she sucked at the slippery flesh.

"That's better, Mum," Liam gasped, bright-eyed and smirking when he eventually broke away. He fixed her with another stare. "Take that jacket off. The skirt too."

Diane eased back off the mattress, crawling in reverse.

She went slowly, on her hands and knees, her attention fixed firmly on her son's face. Then, standing at the side of the bed Diane shrugged the suit jacket off before she let it fall to the carpet in a forgotten heap, discarded in the heat of her desire. The skirt went next, with Diane unzipping it at the side so she could tug it down over her hips.

"Yes," Liam breathed, picking up his cock. "Stockings," he added, grinning broadly. "You make out as though you don't really want to be with me, Mum. But when it comes down to it..." Liam nudged his chin towards his mother. "Stockings and suspenders...?" he added, winking. "You put them on for me, didn't you? You don't normally wear them for a day at work ... So you're wearing them for me, aren't you, Mum?"

"You bastard," Diane sighed. "I'm your mother," she continued. "You're not supposed to make me feel this way."

Liam cranked at himself and murmured, "And how do I make you feel, Mum? Tell me."

"You pig," Diane answered. She stepped out of her skirt and squeezed her breasts through her blouse. "You know how you make me feel." Diane hefted her boobs in her palms. "Look at what I'm doing for you. I'm wearing stockings for my own son because I know you like me in them. I'm taking my clothes off for you, Liam – what does that tell you about how I feel?"

Liam let go of his erection and rolled quickly onto his knees. He pointed at his mother. "Take the blouse off. Take it off, Mum – Now! Show me your tits." Liam fisted his cock and stared at her, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, his lips loose and damp with lust. "Take that blouse off and tell me how you feel when you see me fucking my fist. Look at me, Mum. Watch me." His hips moved, jerked several times, his cock bulging from the tight bunch of his fingers. "That's what I want to do to you. I want to fuck your tight pussy and hear you moan."

Diane gasped, a hand moving between her legs. "You dirty bugger," she sighed. "Liam ... that's so bloody sexy."

Liam chuckled when he saw his mother squirm.

"You like that, eh, Mum?" he said. "You like watching me fucking my hand?" he thrust into his fist and let an exaggerated groan bubble out of his chest. Liam stared at his mother, his face slack. "Tell me, Mum," Liam mumbled, voice glutinous, thick with longing. "Tell me how you feel. Make it dirty. Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

Diane loosened the bottom-most button on her blouse. "I ... I can't, Liam," she said. "I can't say those things, not to you."

"Come here, Mum," Liam ordered.

Diane, after another momentary pause, stepped towards her son.

"You can," Liam said, his fingers loosening more buttons on his mother's blouse. "You know you can." He slid the garment over Diane's shoulders, eyes lighting up when the shivering tops of his mother's breasts were revealed. "Tell me," Liam insisted as he pulled his mother close. He kissed her mouth, his arms going around her waist, his hands on her buttocks, fingers spread across her skin.

"I want you to fuck me," Diane sighed while her son held her close and stroked the hair at the back of her head. "I want you to lie me down and spread my legs ... I want you to look at me..."

A pause while heat flooded Diane's cheeks.

"Liam ... Oh, Liam, saying this to you ... it's so embarrassing, darling. I'm your mother ... I shouldn't say things like that to you."

Liam pulled her even closer, burying his face into her cleavage. He licked the rounded inner flanks of his mother's breasts, his tongue tracing a line from her cleavage, over her vulnerable throat, the life pulsing in her neck, to where he could slide it into her mouth.

"It's because you're my mother it turns me on so much," he muttered, breaking the kiss. His hands came round to Diane's front and Liam squeezed his mother's breasts through her bra. "It's because of who you are to me that makes me so fucking hot to fuck you."

He kissed his mother again, his tongue invading her before he pulled away and left her gasping.

"And I know you're hot to fuck, Mum. I know that if I felt between your legs you'd be hot and wet for me."

He shoved his hand between his mother's legs. There was no finesse, no tenderness in the action.

"I knew it," Liam crowed, exultant. "You're pissing juice..."

Liam reached around his mother's body and pulled her close. He kissed her again, panting, near breathless, his fingers kneading her buttocks, hands sliding over Diane's skin, feeling her all over.

Diane staggered, unbalanced in her high heels, the shoes two inches higher than her usual – not that her husband had noticed, and it was only Liam's embrace that kept her upright.

She moaned and mewled into her son's mouth while he held her, Diane's own ardour flaring.

"I can't help it," she breathed when they paused. Diane's chest heaved, her breasts swelling and trembling. "I fight it, Liam, I fight against doing this with you, but I can't help myself. I hate myself for doing this."

Liam stared into her eyes. "But you love it, too."

He traced a forefinger from a place between Diane's breasts, slid the tip along the raised rack of her ribs and down over her waist to where it circled around and around on her hip.

"Don't you, Mum," Liam insisted quietly. "Sex with me ... Your son ... You love it."

Diane shivered and closed her eyes. Swallowing heavily she nodded. "Yes."

Liam climbed off the bed. "Sit down," he insisted.

Diane complied, perching on her son's bed with the pressure of his hand on her shoulder.

"Lie back," Liam continued. He gestured with his fingers. "Open your legs."

"Are you going to..." Diane murmured as she obeyed. She spread her thighs and folded her legs at the knees to expose her core to her son's stare. Her cheeks burned when he stared at her.

"I'm going to lick you, Mum. I'm going to suck your pussy and drive you mental. By the time I'm finished with you you're going to be begging me to fuck you."

"Oh Jesus ... Oh dear God," Diane blasphemed as her son settled between her legs. "I'm there, Liam. I don't believe I'm doing it again, but I'm right there for you."

Liam chuckled, his stare fixed on his mother's vulva. She was there for him all right. Her labia hung heavy and swollen, pouting and slick with the desire that had already seeped from her opening. She made out like she fought against it, but he knew she was hot for him.

"I can see," Liam murmured. "I can see you, Mum."

Diane gasped, her body tensing when her son ducked forward and slid his tongue between the lips of her sex. "Oh fuck," she grunted. "You naughty boy ... You're licking mummy's clit..."

Two

Liam gave his mother two orgasms with his fingers and tongue. By the time he finished she was a gabbling, writhing wreck.

He came up from between her legs and, with her arousal smeared across his face, crawled along her body to kiss her mouth.

His mother clung to him with her legs, her tongue quick and eager against his. She was snuffling and whimpering, her limbs still twitching with residual aftershocks, her palms against Liam's temples while she sucked at his tongue.

"You enjoyed that," Liam said, a statement rather than a question. The physical evidence spoke for itself. He wiped a forearm and the back of his hand across his face. "Now," Liam added, grinning. "Now I'm going to fuck you, Mum."

"Yes," Diane squealed, writhing beneath her son, settling herself and offering her body to him. "Put it in," she breathed, eyes wide, expression eager. "Put it inside me. I want you to fuck me."

She stared up with surprise when Liam bundled back and off the bed.

"What...?" Diane asked.

Liam stroked his cock and smirked. "Not here," he said.

He turned and walked to his bedroom door. Opening it, he turned back to face his mother.

"This way," Liam said. Leaving his mother on the bed, Liam left the room.

Puzzled, Diane followed. He was waiting just along the corridor. Liam tilted his head sideways to indicate the room Diane shared with her husband.

"In here," he said. "I want you on the same bed he fucks you in."

Diane baulked, shock showing on her face. She shook her head. "I can't..."

Liam moved towards his mother, took three quick paces to where she stood immobile, fingers at her mouth.

"That's where I want you, Mum," he muttered. Liam scooped his mother's hand from the front of her face. "Come on," he added, pulling her gently.

Diane tottered forward a pace. "Liam ... We can't ... It's my bed ... I share it with your father."

"That's why I want you on it," Liam growled, "Because it's his bed too. I've already fucked his wife ... Now I want to do it in his bed."

Diane's son pulled at the cup of her bra. She looked at him before reaching in to haul one heavy breast clear.

"Yes," Liam hissed, licking his lips with avaricious, expression avid. He stared while his mother freed a second breast. "God, Mum," Liam muttered. Hefting both globes in his palms he tested their weight, squeezing tit-flesh, enthused by his mother's big boobs. "I'm going to fuck you," he growled, leaning in to suck an elongated nipple between his lips. He squeezed those big tits together with both hands, pressing his mother's pliant flesh, alternating between one teat and the other. "You're so sexy, Mum. God, I want to fuck you now."