Even though she doesn’t work as one, my mother is a really good dressmaker. So instead of buying a really expensive new dress for my friend’s wedding, I asked my Mum to make one for me. Because she hadn’t made me a dress in over three years, she thought it was a good idea to get all my measurements again. Thankfully, that afternoon the house was deserted — my father had gone to meet with some friends for work, and my brother were out watching a football game.
Her measuring tape around her neck like a professional, she had me remove my shoes and stand against the wall to get my height. So that was easy; she just confirmed that I’m 5’6, only an inch or two taller than she is. I wanted a fairly long dress – most of the way down my legs to my ankles, so she measured the distance from my shoulders to about where I thought would be good for the hemline and then wrote the length on her little notepad.
“Now, for the rest of the measurements I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to strip down to your underwear, Lauren.”
“Yeah, I thought that might be the case.” No big deal, she’s seen me undressed thousands of times before. I unbuttoned my jeans and dropped them to the floor. Next I pulled my t-shirt over my head, where (of course) I got static electricity that made my long, straight light brown hair stick out at all directions. I frantically tried combing it back down while Mum tried and failed to suppress a giggle. “Geez, thanks Mum, don’t try to help or anything.”
“And miss your hilarious little show there? No thanks, Lauren. Now, I’ll start with your hips. Arms out to the side for me?”
I did as requested as Mum wrapped the tape around my slim hips, taking note of my sizing again. Then she moved up to my waist, looping the tape around the narrowest part of my torso. Again, she wrote down what her tape measured, then looked up at me.
“For the bust, I can do it with your bra still on, but for the best fit, you’ll probably have to take it off, I’m sorry.”
We’ve always been a fairly open family, and Mum and I have especially been close, outnumbered by three other guys. We’ve frequently gone bra shopping together, and we’ve always felt there was nothing weird about her coming in and talking to me while I showered, or vice versa. But I guess she was trying to explain to me why it’d be better with my bra off from a dressmaker’s point of view.
“Yeah, sure thing.” I unhooked my bra and tossed it onto the bed. My perky B-cup breasts jiggled happily when I freed them, my soft pink nipples sticking out. Mum didn’t react at all; why would she? She’s seen them so many times before. She just prepared her tape and asked me to put my arms out to the side again. That’s when it got weird.
Sure, it started off as it should have – facing me, Mum looped the tape around my back and around to my breasts again. She studied the numbers on the tape, then she started … I don’t know, caressing me? I just stared, paralysed with confusion as I watched and felt her hands squeezing my breasts, massaging them the way a lover would. She bit her bottom lip and just kept staring at my breasts. Now, I’ll admit, I did kind of enjoy the feeling of my breasts being massaged with such soft, warm hands but overwhelmingly I was so freaked out by the fact that they were my goddamn mother’s hands playing with me.
It took me a little while, but eventually I did react. “What are… Mum, what are you doing?!”
She blinked a few times, then stared at her hands in shock. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Lauren, I don’t know what came over me.” I don’t know whether she realised it or not, but she was not letting go. “I’ve never done anything like this before, swear to God.” And I believed her; she was a lifelong Catholic woman, always went to church on a Sunday morning (thankfully, she stopped dragging me along when I was about 14).
I grabbed her hands in mine, finally freeing my breasts from my mother’s grip. “What was going through your head?!”
“I… I don’t know. I just saw them, so soft and firm, and I just had to feel them. I’m so sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
“Um, it’d be good if we never mentioned this again; that’s really all I want at the moment. Oh, and you could make my dress extra nice?”
She looked so relieved. “Done and done, honey.”
In retrospect, what I did next was just stupid, based on what had just happened. I stepped forward and hugged Mum, trying to show her all was forgiven. She hugged me back, rubbing my back in a normal, maternal way. When I pulled away from her at the end of our hug, it all went wrong.
She looked into my eyes as I smiled at her, then my mother’s face came closer and closer to mine. Paralysed with the same shock as when she was groping my breasts, I could only stand and watch as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips into mine. What was she doing?! I was her freaking daughter. I’d never even looked at a woman sexually, and I have no doubt the same was true for her. Yet here she was, clasping my hands in her own, kissing me right on the mouth. Passionately. With her soft, red lips. No! Stop thinking bostancı escort bayan that way, Lauren, that’s so fucked up.
I wanted to run, I wanted to struggle, I wanted to push her off. But I was frozen in place, powerless to fight Mum’s sudden incestuous lesbian desires. Her first kiss lasted about 10 seconds before I finally snapped out of it, freed my hands from hers and tried to push her away. She was only a short, skinny woman, but she was damn hard to budge. “Mum, stop, this isn’t you, this isn’t right.”
“I’m sorry, Lauren. I just- I need you, and I don’t know why… When you stripped down, I was overcome. You’re so beautiful, so sweet, so loving. Everything a woman could want all in one cute package.”
“But I’m your daughter, for God’s sake. And we’re both straight! There’s no way anything is happening between us, Mum.” I started picking up my clothes from the floor.
When I looked up, Mum had taken off her dress; it sat in a crumpled pile at her bare feet. She was starting at me hungrily in her underwear (a plain purple t-shirt bra and black cotton briefs), thinking who knows how many perverted thoughts about me. She stepped towards me, and I took one defensive step back for each step she took forward. Unfortunately, my room is tiny, so after about 5 backward steps, my back was pressed against the wall again. Mum put her hands firmly on my hips, holding me in place.
“Just one more kiss, then I’ll let you go, okay honey?” I knew it was rhetorical, but still I answered her.
” No! Jesus Christ, Mum! What the fuck has gotten int-“
Just as I rounded my lips to make the “O” sound, Mum seized her chance and her lips were on mine again before I knew it. Red, moist, warm, so soft… Her lip gloss tasted faintly of strawberry flavouring. My mouth frozen open, her lips were also open, and she moaned softly into my mouth. Her head tilted, she closed her eyes, her long lashes lightly tickling my cheekbones as she did so. Her hands started rubbing my sides, up and down, brushing over the sides of my lacy purple mini briefs and up to my ribs. Without breaking her kiss, Mum shifted to my right slightly, grabbing my right breast with her left hand while her right hand slid down my ribs, over my flat stomach and down to my crotch. She started rubbing the front of my underwear with her hand, up and down the lacy synthetic fabric. I squirmed, but she pushed her mouth harder into mine, holding me in place with her head. She squeezed my breast hard for good measure.
I started making protesting sounds, almost whimpering in a way. I didn’t want any of this; all I wanted was a new, free, custom made dress for my good friend’s wedding. But Mum didn’t care; she just kept squeezing my breast, running her hand over my crotch, and holding me in place with her forceful kiss.
But then something changed in me; suddenly her rubbing my crotch actually started to feel… nice. My pussy started to tingle with warmth as my body started lubricating my pussy lips, getting wet from my mother’s touch. Her soft, red, strawberry flavoured lips began to provide a nice contrast to a man’s cracked, stubble-surrounded mouth. Her soft, warm hand on my left breast made me wish my right was getting the same kind of attention. Before I knew it, my moans of protest started to get longer, deeper, less urgent. I felt myself open my mouth to Mum, curious about her tongue despite my mind’s protests. I felt my hips start to move, my crotch rubbing back against Mum’s hand in rhythm. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my mother, pulling her close to me.
I felt the skin of Mum’s warm, smooth, back under my fingertips as I started to explore her body. The sensation was rudely interrupted by the cool, synthetic material of her bra. Without a thought about what I was doing, I instinctively unhooked my mother’s bra clasp and resumed running my fingers over her back. Mum ran her hand up against the front of my panties for the last time; she pushed her fingers underneath my elastic waistband and the next thing I felt was Mum’s soft, warm fingers moving down through my neatly-trimmed pubic hair. She didn’t waste any more time; instinctively, she knew just where to find my clitoris and she started rubbing it between her index and middle fingers.
I broke our kiss and gasped with pleasure. “Ooooooh god,” I moaned into Mum’s ear. She responded by rubbing my clit faster and kissing my neck slowly. I stepped apart, spreading my legs to give my mother easier access to my clit. “Feels so good, Mum…” I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Why had I given in so easily to my mother’s uncharacteristic advances? Was it just that I found the feel of her hands and lips so different from the few guys I’d been with? Or was it something deeper? Six years later and I still can’t tell you. I sucked on my mother’s earlobe while she ran her fingers furiously back and forth over my clit. Mum still had her bra on, but it was loose enough that I could see that her full, beautiful C-cup breasts were dying to be free. I lifted her bra up and over my mother’s breasts and watched as they sprang ümraniye escort out. Like mother like daughter, I now understood her earlier need to molest me – now that I was staring at her big, exposed boobs, I had an irresistible urge to grab them and squeeze them like my life depended on it. I’d seen them so many times before (as recently as the week before, in fact), but for some reason that day, instead of symbols of her nurturing past, Mum’s breasts became objects of desire. So soft and so warm, they gave in to my fingers just slightly while I squeezed Mum’s ample tits in both hands.
“Mmmmm… Just like that,” she moaned at my touch. I marvelled at how my mother’s breasts felt in my hands – just like mine, but slightly saggier, and noticeably larger. So yeah, I was a little jealous. I’d never wanted to even look at another woman’s breasts before, but now I couldn’t get enough of Mum’s boobs, jiggling and squeezing and caressing them, playing with the very nipples from which I’d drunk her milk for the first two years of my life. 20 years later, I never knew how much I’d missed Mum’s breasts. The feeling of her breasts in my hands, the feeling of her earlobe between my lips, the sound of her breathing so close to me, the sensation from her fingers rubbing my pussy was simply too much for me. Without warning, I felt a tidal wave of pleasure radiating out from my crotch, taking over my whole body. I released Mum’s earlobe from my mouth and moan-squealed into the room, my head thrown back so I was staring at the ceiling. I felt my fingers tighten around my mother’s breasts as I squeezed them as hard as I could without even realising it. My legs almost gave way as I spasmed with pleasure as wave after wave of my orgasmic force rocked my body. Then, slowly, the intense feeling faded and I had my mind back.
Without warning, I spun us around, pushing Mum against the wall. She hit her head against the wall, but apparently not hard enough to hurt. I grabbed at her bra and threw it to the floor. I locked my lips to hers and our tongues thrust in and out of each other’s mouth as they danced together. As I kissed my mother with as much force as she’d kissed me earlier, I frantically reached for the sides of her underpants and yanked them down her thighs. I broke our kiss without warning and, holding Mum in place with one hand on her stomach, I knelt down and pulled my mother’s panties down to her ankles, after which she lifted her left leg and stepped out of them. Without hesitation and without realising I had no idea how to give oral sex to a woman, I stared at her freshly-shaven pussy and stuck my tongue out, drawing closer and closer to the same vagina she’d pushed me and my two brothers through almost 20 years ago. I couldn’t help but admire how she, at 53, was still taking the time to maintain her pubic hair for my Dad. And, objectively speaking, she did actually have a really nice vagina for a woman who’d given birth to three kids. Her lips, now glistening in the golden afternoon sunlight of my room, were still tight and tidy and ever so inviting.
I accepted her moist invitation with a gusto, touching my tongue to her opening, kissing her pussy lips. God, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe how weird-yet-amazing, how wrong-but-right it felt to be tasting her most intimate opening. When I slid my tongue into my mother’s salty-sweet opening, it felt like I was coming home again after being away for years. I slid my tongue further and further inside her, as far as I could, relishing the taste and smell of my mother’s beautiful, perfect, mature vaginal opening. Jesus, my own mother.
Mum clearly didn’t mind how it felt to have her daughter on her knees with my tongue inside her vagina, like I was paying tribute to a goddess.
“Oooooh fuck yes…” Mum cried. I’d never heard her swear before, so I knew I must’ve been doing okay. I slid my tongue in and out of her vagina like a poor substitute for a penis before I remembered that there was a much better way to give a woman pleasure with your tongue.
I withdrew my tongue from my mother’s delicious and wet opening and with both hands, I spread her pussy lips until I could see her clit, a tiny little pink button at the top of her ever-moistening slit. Like a moth to a flame, I wrapped my mouth around it, sucking my mother’s clitoris into my mouth. She squealed and jumped at the intensity, so I stopped sucking as hard. I loosened my lips’ grip on her clit and started running my tongue over it instead, left and right just like she’d run her fingers over my own clit. She moaned loudly, “Just like that, baby.” So I kept that up, flicking my tongue side-to-side over Mum’s clit. I breathed heavily through my nose as I stared up at my mother. She was staring off into space, her arms still up against the wall in the defensive position she’d gone into when I shoved her into place. “God yes, Lauren!” she cried.
My mouth, wide open while my tongue lapped at my mother’s clitoris, soon started to get hot with fatigue. I closed it a little and started licking Mum’s clit up and down instead. Much easier. Now reinvigorated, I licked escort kartal faster and harder than I ever could sideways, and Mum responded in kind. She started thrusting her hips, grinding her pussy in my face as I got her closer and closer to orgasm. By this point she was just saying “Oh” over and over in time with her hip thrusting. I started sucking her clit again, licking it while I held onto it tightly with my lips. Mum’s grinding got faster, so I sucked and licked harder.
It didn’t take much longer; about 30 seconds later, Mum cried out, squealing “Fuuuuuuck” at the top of her lungs, filling the empty house with the sound of her orgasm. She shuddered hard and repeatedly, grinding her pussy into my face as fast as her hips could move. All the while, I was smiling. Partly because I found Mum’s incredibly loud swearing hilarious, but mainly because I never even knew I’d be able to make another woman cum using only my mouth, let alone my own conservative mother. “That, oh God… That was so good, Lauren…” she panted once her orgasm had passed.
I leant back and wiped all of her juices from my mouth and chin. “You tasted great too, Mum,” I said as I felt my face go red. Did I really just tell my mother – the woman who’d raised me, given birth to me and my brothers, my best friend – that her vagina had tasted good?! Well… at least I wasn’t lying, I guess.
“I think I need to lie down, honey,” she said, trying to find the energy to walk to my bed. Soon, she was on her way, and I stood up, stripped out of my soaking panties, and followed her there.
We lay down on our sides together, facing each other as we started at each other’s naked body, really studying and admiring the other for the first time. I ran my fingers through her long, dark hair. “What have you done to me, Mum?”
“I could ask you the same thing, my beautiful daughter,” she sighed, then held a hand on my cheek and kissed me deeply. “There was just something so irresistible about the way you looked with your bra off, I can’t describe it.”
“Maybe I have magic boobs?” I joked, and she laughed. “Honestly though Mum, I don’t know what made us act that way, but… Oh god, I’m so glad it did.”
“Me too; sharing my body with my only daughter, exploring our sexuality together, embracing the gay feelings we didn’t even know we had for each other…” She trailed off as I slid my hand down her side, down the outside of her leg and back up, between her legs.
She pulled my face towards hers, and we both closed our eyes when our lips met, fully embracing the new level of our mother-daughter relationship we had reached. We adjusted our position slightly, sitting up a little in my bed to better do what we did next. As we kissed, Mum ran her hand down my side and across to my pussy again. Together, we lifted our legs in the air as I touched my mother’s pussy and she touched mine. I slid my index finger down her slit, coating myself in her sticky, clear, delicious juices, then down to the opening of her vagina, where I slid in effortlessly – much easier than when she had pushed me out of the same hole 20 years ago. I marvelled at the sensation of just how so hot and wet the inside of my mother felt. Mum quickly followed suit and coated her index and middle fingers in my own juices, her long nails ever so lightly scratching my lips as she did so. I moaned into her mouth as my mother’s two fingers quickly found my opening and slid inside me, spreading my tight pussy just a little bit.
After sliding my finger in and out of Mum’s pussy a couple of times, I knew I’d have to do more to give her pleasure; one finger is hardly enough to feel good to a woman who’s given birth naturally three times. My index finger still sliding in and out, I quickly lubricated my middle finger and ring finger with Mum’s pussy juices and inserted them into my mother’s pussy without missing a beat. One finger for each of her children. Now that was better; I could feel the inside edges of Mum’s pussy better, and she moaned her thanks into my mouth. She started fingerfucking me harder, and I easily matched her pace. There we were – mother and daughter, totally naked on my bed, locked in an unending, open-mouth incestuous kiss, using our fingers to fuck each other’s pussy, the three men in our family having no idea that we were home alone, pleasuring each other in such a completely unexpected, new and taboo manner.
I started thrusting my hips in time with Mum’s finger thrusts, and she likewise did the same. I could feel my breasts jiggling while my body was rocked by Mum’s furious fingers. My pleasure levels were kicked into overdrive when Mum positioned her thumb so that it would bump into my clit at the peak of each thrust. Not wanting to be selfish with that amount of sensation on offer, I moved my thumb into position, slamming it into Mum’s clit each time my three fingers were as deep inside her wonderful, mature pussy as they could go. She broke our kiss to cry out “Yes!” a few times, her eyes locked onto my face. I really, really wanted to just keep staring into her eyes as we fingerfucked each other, but her big, bouncing breasts in my peripheral vision just became too enticing to ignore. I stared down at Mum’s big, full boobs, bouncing in time with my hand as I fucked her. The hypnotic motion of her jiggling breasts was like a siren’s song to me, and I had no choice but to come to them.