The following two weeks were not particularly remarkable… unremarkable if it was the norm to move into your bereaved stepmother’s bed, the one she shared with your father, and were having daily sex with her. We had been making steady progress through the two boxes of Durex condoms she had purchased on the day we’d been to Boots to get her emergency contraception after the first time we’d had intercourse. Earlier in the second week, she had arrived home from shopping and deposited a third box into my lap as I sat on the sofa. She had an appointment with the GP booked to discuss her options for contraception but had wanted to get the funeral out of the way first. She didn’t want our doctor to look at her as if she was some kind of slapper!
The day of the funeral soon came around.
The night before, we went to bed together, as we had been doing for the previous two weeks or so. She was quieter, though, and certainly in a more reflective mood. She smiled at me gently as I stroked her breasts when she removed her bra… but after a couple of seconds, she shied away from my touch. She appeared from the ensuite bathroom in a full-length silk nightdress, high in the neck and calf length, which gave me a further indication that we wouldn’t be using a condom that evening.
I climbed into the bed beside her after I had got ready. I was naked, my penis flaccid but still lengthy resting on my thigh. She had her back to me, lying in a fetal position. My right hand stroked her right side… pushing a little harder on her thigh, and fondling her right breast, pinching her nipple through the soft silky material. She moved slightly away from her, and wordlessly told me she wanted to sleep. I knew what would be rolling through her mind, so I rolled away and slept.
We awoke to the sound of the alarm. She looked a million miles away. I tried talking to her, but her look was over my shoulder and beyond me. She was almost catatonic. I started to get myself ready. I showered, brushed my teeth and shaved, when I went back into the room, she was still lying in the same place, looking into the distance and seemingly not looking to engage.
I took her by the hand and encouraged her to sit up in the bed. She lifted herself and swung her legs out of the bed. “Let me help”, I said softly into her ear. I went back into the ensuite and started to run the bath, putting in bath crystals to make a lovely pink foam on top of the water. I tested the temperature of the water and when it felt right I went back into the bedroom to bring her to it. She felt without any real life or enthusiasm for anything. I got her to stand first and she stood motionless whilst I unfastened the belt holding her night dress together and gently pushed it off her shoulders. As she stood naked in front of me, my flaccid cock twitched into life and stood semi erect before her, but she just looked down on it silently and sadly.
I led her into the bathroom, and guided her to the bath. She put a foot into it and lifted herself in elegantly, using my arm to steady herself. She lowered herself down into the hot foamy water and I knelt down by the side of the bath, taking a flannel in my right hand. I plunged my hand into the water, soaking the flannel and moved it around her chest and neck, soaping the exposed parts of her body outside of the water. I dropped the flannel into the water and continued the soaping with my bare hands, cupping her breasts from below and running my hands through the folds of her skin where her breasts met her chest. She lent forward and I rubbed my soapy hands across her back and under her arms, working up her neck.
She bent her head forward so I could wet her soft silky blonde hair. I worked her shampoo in, kneading her scalp with my finger tips, working the suds through the soft strands of her hair. I took some of the foam on my fingers and moved it in front of her downwards out of the bath. She followed the path of my hand and lay back in the bath, her shoulders and feet pushing against it enamel so that her back arched and her hips rose from the water. In front of me, breaking the foam of the bubble bath was her mound crested by the dark patch of soft hair that still took my attention every time I looked at it. I rubbed the shampoo into the dark patch of hair and foamed it. As it sank back beneath the water, the bubbles and foam dispersed from it and it was just wet patch of hair again. I rinsed her hair and replaced the shampoo with her conditioner, and then turned my attention to using my fingers to wash her labia. I parted her lips gently with my thumb and forefinger on my right hand and gently slide my middle finger down between the track of her lips. I wasn’t used to feeling any sort of resistance – but today was different and there was no usual subtle parting of the thighs to welcome me in. I washed her legs and feet quickly after that and, after I had rinsed the conditioner from her head, I offered her my hand to help her stand up.
I took a towel and started to pat dry the upper half of her body. She stepped out of the bath, and I knelt to dry her feet, legs and bottom. She stood with her feet a little apart as my hand went between her legs to dry her inner thighs and her vagina. For the second time in short succession, I had a feeling that my attention to that part of her anatomy was less than welcome today.
I led her back to the bedroom and she sat on the bed. On her dresser was the outfit she had chosen the night before. I took the black stockings from the side and knelt at her feet, rolling the first one up in my hands. Placing it over her toe, I started rolling it from the heel up her calf. There were no seams on this pair, unlike the pair of tan stockings she had worn the previous week, when she had dressed for sex for the first time, and had deliberately used her clothing to excite me as part of our foreplay. On that occasion she had left them on whilst I penetrated her, so I could feel the soft sheen of nylon against my hips, my thighs, my sides, whilst my rubber encased cock had driven back and forth inside her, my hands occasionally running down the soft sheen of her legs. Now, I was just getting her ready for the day and concentrating on the ordeal ahead.
Having put stockings on both of her legs, I smoothed the material upwards by placing a hand on the inside of each of her thighs and pushing them upwards. As I reached her stocking tops, I pushed my hands outwards, parting her thighs slightly, and placed my face into her lap, my nose on the sweet-smelling tuft of hair at the top of her legs. I pushed my tongue out, and started to lick at the top of her vulva, gently seeking her clitoris as it had done so many times in the previous ten days. I had become used to hearing a surprised squeak or a deep sigh and her thighs parting wider for me to work on her orally until she had a hard orgasm in my mouth. However, on this occasion, she lowered her hand and pushed my face away. “Not now, Paul”, she murmured quietly. Instinctively, I replied, “no, mum, sorry”, and a small pang of guilt went through my chest for putting my needs in front of hers.
She caught me looking puzzled at the small tangle of underwear on the bedside table, and pointed to the suspender belt, as if to say, that’s next. It was quite a wide elasticated belt, that fitted snuggly around her waist above her hips, and had delicate lace detailing and six straps, three for each leg. It was the belt she had worn the previous week with the tan stockings when I had fucked her. I snapped the clips on the straps over the material and she paid enough attention to ensure that she was straightened out after my attentions. After this, I held out her delicate black lace g-string whilst she stepped into it. I turned her around, cupped her bra over her breasts and clipped it together at the back. She next stepped into her black knee-length skirt and buttoned up her blouse. Last on was her black jacket, and she was ready to face the day.
The day went well enough. Lots of family, mostly mine but some of hers, were keen to make sure we were both ok and people I barely knew paying us their condolences. None of it was easy, but I looked at her with renewed admiration as she coped with it all. My feelings towards her were a mixture of protectiveness but also need. I needed her gentle maternal consolation, but I also had a growing realization that I needed her physically too. I was worried that the events of the morning, the coldness and the gentle but firm push away when I had tried to go down on her were signals of the beginning of an end. Had I filled a need for her temporarily and quickly and was that a need which would be supplied by another man soon – or even worse, by multiple men. She had been in my life since I was six years old and I was closer to her than I was to my own mother, who now lived somewhere in Australia now. She was my mother-figure, and I wanted to protect her. But more than that… as I watched her move about her friends and family at the wake, I realized how much I wanted her. I realized now, watching her, and replaying the events of the previous fortnight in my head that, with a couple of notable exceptions when the sex had been hard, raw and carnal (largely at her instigation), it had mostly been gentle and caring love making.
We had been arm in arm during the service, standing together as one family unit. I felt genuine warmth and affection all through the day, and my concerns about the morning being the beginning of an end were slowly assuaged during the day. She talked to others about me being her rock, not knowing what she’d have done without me – she held my hand lots, squeezing it often during conversations with others, and stood with her arm around me whilst speaking with others. A few times during the day, I caught a glimpse of a thin smile directed my way and towards the end of what had been a trying day, she gave me a little wink. The room had mostly cleared now and others were engaged in their own conversations. She leant into my ear and said, “I am so sorry I was disengaged this morning. It was so difficult. I wanted you to carry on doing what you were doing, but I couldn’t. Not this morning. Thank you for getting me up and getting me ready. And thank you for being there for me.” She lent in a little further and gave me a soft peck on the cheek. It was a lovely, sensuous moment, and then my attention was taken from the peck on the cheek to the way she had let the back of her right hand stray in the general direction of my groin and was casually pressing it against my cock as she whispered to me. It responded, growing hard against her touch. She smiled broadly, said, “tonight, I promise” and then pulled away abruptly and moved across the room to join a group of cousins who were sitting drinking tea.
She drove us home, mostly in silence. At a set of traffic lights, she tugged on the hem of her skirt, lifting it into her lap and exposing her stocking tops. “Look at that she said”, as I peered down below the steering wheel. “Perfect. They stayed in place all day. You put them on me beautifully. You’re a quick learner. I think I should employ you as my personal dresser”. I smiled and we both laughed together for the first time that day.
When we arrived home, I went to the kitchen to get two glasses of wine. She went into the sitting room to draw the curtains and turn on the fire. I walked into the room holding the glasses. Everything seemed to be the same, but something I couldn’t immediately put my finger on was different – missing. She stood there, at her full height in her heels, still in the jacket she had worn all day, and then I realized. It was her skirt that was missing. She was standing with her feet slightly apart, dressed in all but her skirt – her smile broad across her face. She took the glass from me and set it down on a coffee table nearby. I did the same. In her hand was something shiny, square and flat. I moved my head to see what it was and instantly recognised the familiar sight of a condom in its packaging.
She moved forward, embraced me, and our mouths met, both instantly opening. My tongue darted inside her mouth and she sucked on it hungrily whilst my hands both dropped to her buttocks to pull her closer to me, so we could both feel my cock hardening between us. I brought my hand back up to her head, running my fingers through her hair, as I pulled her face harder onto mine to take my kiss.
After some moments in this hard embrace, I dropped to my knees. I shifted to one side the soft lacy g-string that I had pulled up over her legs earlier that morning, and I placed my tongue on the uppermost part of her labia minora. Pushing my face into her warmth, catching her musky aroma in my throat, I kept going, gently caressing her vagina lips with the tip of my tongue. Using the muscle in my tongue I parted the outer lips to reveal the inner labia for gentle licking. She moaned loudly above me, staggering slightly and rebalancing herself by moving her feet slightly wider apart. This helped open her up a little more for my tongue and I took the opportunity to push it in harder between her lips. My hands wet now on her buttocks, drawing her in much closer to my face as I licked harder. Her hands were both rested on my head, her fingertips had been gently massaging my scalp as I started but now they were scratching at head, little urgent tears at my skin coinciding with gasps and the occasional buckle of a knee.
Her lips had been moistening for a little while now, but suddenly the flow picked up and came much faster. As the juices gathered on my tongue, she let out a little shriek, followed by a satisfied moan and her knees both gave way under her. She reached out to the mantle shelf over the fire and steadied herself, before lowering herself to he knees to join me. She embraced me again as we both knelt there looking at each other, me completely clothed, her mostly clothed, and we began to kiss again, hard and deep our tongues in and out of each other mouths like hungry explorers.
Eventually, she went to the floor and laid out silently in front of me. I instinctively put a hand on either side of the waistband of her g-string and tugged it down. She lifted her bottom so I could wriggle it right off. I stood up, and undid my trouser belt and unzipped my fly. All the time her legs were moving wider apart in front of me, inviting me back in. I removed my shoes and socks, suit trousers and boxer shorts, and stood over her in just my white shirt, black tie and dark grey suit jacket; my penis standing out from under my shirt and erect to its full length (some nearly 11”, I had once been reliably informed by a curious girl with a measuring tape!). She smiled up, with her hands behind her head, licking her lips. Apart from her skirt and panties, she was fully dressed.
Then the silver packaging flashed again in the firelight, and I saw her hand coming from behind her head, offering me the wrapped condom. I tore the packaging eagerly and rolled it down the length of my engorged shaft. I knelt just under her backside, my knees almost touching her buttocks, and grasped her calves. Pushing them upwards, I manoeuvred her knees towards her shoulders, opening her up wider. I shuffled back a little bit, so her shoed feet could rest on my shoulders, whilst I positioned my cock at her vaginal entrance. I placed enough forward force on her thighs for her to roll back a little, her vagina rising to meet my cock. As they touched, I flicked my hips firmly towards her and entered her in one very satisfying motion.
The fronts of my thighs and my hips were now pressing down on the backs of her thighs as my cock slid easily in and out of her. She was panting hard now at my cock’s insurgence. I slid a hand up under her jacket and rubbed her tits through her silky blouse and the soft lacy black bra I had clipped on her earlier that day. As I pulled the material taut with my thumb and forefinger, I could see her nipple plumping and hardening through the layers of material. It made me pound her faster for a moment.
I looked down to where we were coupled and saw she had lowered her left hand to that very place and was teasing her own clitoris. Her middle finger was making fast stroking motions across her flesh now and I realised that her panting had stopped and her breathing was suspended.. that was only momentary, as she let out a yell of “oh my god, yes” with a great expulsion of air. I realised she had orgasmed again for a second time, and then realised I had cum also, exploding into the rubber bag that covered my cock.
We lay there side by side, in a warm glow for a few minutes. I was playing gently with her beautiful blonde hair, which soon became kissing the side of her neck and face gently. I lazily dropped my hand and started stroking her tits under her jacket. She heaved herself up on one elbow and looked at me earnestly. Suddenly, she said “you really like fast sex with clothes on, don’t you?”. “Do I?”, I replied, “I’ve never really thought of it”, and indeed I hadn’t. She continued, wistfully, “I had a boyfriend in my twenties who liked that too. He was quite experimental, too.” She turned back and grinned at me. “That was before I met your father. I wonder, will you be experimental in other ways, too?”. I choked a reply back at her, “I’m sure I will be, I mean, I’m sure I am.” Wondering, as I said it, if I really could be.
