Growing up with Mom

Introduction:
This is the story of my relationship with my mom. My dad left when I was very young so as far back as I can remember, it was always just me and my mom.
One of my favorite things to do when I was little was my nightly bath with mom. I loved the feel of her skin against mine, especially when we were both soapy. I loved how she scrubbed me all over. I loved when she’d wrap me up in a big fluffy towel when we were done. It wasn’t anything sexual, it was just the wonderful sensations that I enjoyed. I can’t remember exactly how old I was when that ritual stopped, but I remember the day it happened. My mom had just finished scrubbing me and I wanted to return the favor. I took the soap and started soaping my mom up. She’d already explained to me about breasts, and how all women had them, different sizes, that they were for feeding babies, etc., but I had never really taken a look between her legs until that day. As I scrubbed her, I asked her how come she didn’t have what I had. She explained that women had different things than men. As I kept washing her down there, she moaned a little, then grabbed my arm and said, “I think it’s clean enough.” I finished with the rest of her body, not realizing that anything had happened. When we got out and were watching tv while drying off, my mom told me that she thought I was old enough to start taking showers…by myself. I was kind of sad that I wouldn’t get to take any more baths with my mom, but I was also excited by the prospect of taking showers, just like big people, that I didn’t put up a big fight. That was years ago, though, and I only remember it because that was the first time I touched my mom’s pussy.
The real story begins several years later. As I said, it was just me and my mom. My mom thought that since I didn’t have a father, she should be available to me at all times, so she worked from home as a telemarketer. I don’t ever remember my mom going to any great lengths to hide her body from me. Modesty was practically unheard of at my house, so it wasn’t rare for me to see her naked coming out of the shower or changing clothes. In the mornings, she’d come out wearing a terrycloth robe as often as she’d come out in a short silk robe. When I started jerking off around 12, I started looking forward to the days when she would wear the short silk ones. Most of them weren’t much longer than long shirts, and she wouldn’t bother tying them too tightly, which would give me fleeting glimpses of her breasts. At that age, I was looking anywhere and everywhere for masturbation material, and it was countless nights that I would jerk off picturing my mom’s legs, or her breasts, or her ass as I stroked myself to orgasm. On one of her silk days, I got up the nerve to tell her how great her legs looked, she blushed and thanked me, and started wearing the short silk ones most of the time. We were always very touchy-feely, spending nights at home laying on each other on the couch while we watched tv. It was only in the morning that she would wear a robe, most of the time she’d walk around the house in a t-shirt and panties. Don’t think that didn’t have an effect on me. My masturbation fantasies were fueled with visions of her long legs and pretty feet.
One night, as we were on the couch, my mother asked if I would rub her feet, as she’d been out shopping all day and they were sore. Any excuse to get my hands on her was ok by me, so I agreed. We were on opposite ends of the couch, she had her feet in my lap. I took special care, making sure I did a good job, and realized that I really liked rubbing her feet. I liked seeing the wrinkles form around my thumbs as I kneaded the soles of her feet. I loved the soft silkiness of the top of her feet as I gently rubbed the backs of fingers across them. I loved the way her toes wiggled in my hands when I accidentally tickled her. I had an instant foot fetish, not to mention a hard on. From that night on, I was constantly asking her if I could rub her feet. Like most people, my mom wasn’t going to say no to a foot rub, so most nights, I had her feet in my lap, and I imagined what it would be like to have those toes wiggling in my mouth while I masturbated. It didn’t take me long to realize that if I maneuvered things just right, my mom’s legs would be spread, and I’d get to see her panties. I already knew, from the glimpses her robes would allow, that she mostly wore thongs, but I didn’t realize what kind of a view of her pussy that would give me. There were a lot of nights where I couldn’t even begin to tell you what was on because I was entranced by the view of the material seeming to come out from her between her butt cheeks, pressed up tightly against her mound. Sometimes, one of her lips would work it’s way out of her panties, and I’d just stare. She was very good to me about it, and would casually readjust her panties when she noticed me staring. Whenever she readjusted, she’d have a ghost of a smile on her lips, and I’d have jerk off material for later. I also took to kissing the soles of her feet as a signal that I’d finished rubbing them. I loved feeling the soles of her feet on my face, the slight smell of soap and sweat was intoxicating. I’d remember that smell while I stroked up and down my cock at night. I got bolder and bolder with her, my one kiss on each sole turning into several kisses up and down the soles of her feet. Several kisses on her soles became several kisses on both sides of her feet. That progressed to kissing each of her toes. Those kisses progressed to sucking. And it was about two months after the first foot rub that I was spending more time sucking on her toes than I did rubbing her feet. If I had to guess, I’d say the reason she didn’t stop me was because it felt good. If you’ve never had your toes sucked…it’s like that saying, if you don’t know, don’t bother to ask. I dirtied lots of underwear several times a night thinking of the way her toes moved in my mouth.
It was after one such session, as I was laying in bed that I heard a strange noise coming from my mom’s bedroom. It was a buzzing sound, and a low moaning. I’d been jerking off in the dark for about an hour and half. My mom’s toes had been wrinkly when I finally removed them from my mouth and we went to bed and that was one of the visual images I was using as I masturbated again and again. I’d been laying there, almost drifting off when I heard it. I debated whether or not to check it out, and when it didn’t stop, I decided to see what was up. I pulled my underwear up, pulling it up high so I could wipe off any cum that I’d missed with my fingers on my stomach. I’d never been brought up to knock on doors when at home, so when I reached her door, I just opened it wide. The sight took my breath away. Like me, she had the tv on, hers was also muted, it’s glow revealing to me her naked body, nipples hard, legs spread, hands working a vibe in and out of her pussy. From my own experiences, I could tell she was probably close to cumming, that’s probably why she didn’t remove the vibrator from her pussy. She just closed her legs, blocking my view of that pink plastic cock protruding from her pussy, sat up some, and asked me if I needed something. I told her that I’d heard a noise and was just checking it out. She said it was nothing and asked me to please go back to bed. I saw her glance at the obvious bulge in my underwear and the ghost of a smile appeared on her face. I stuttered out an “ok” and closed the door. I stood right outside her bedroom and listened to her. I could tell she was struggling not to scream, and could hear her hissing “oh shit, oh god, oh shit.” I didn’t go back to my room until I heard the vibrator being turned off. I could take my underwear off fast enough, they were completely off by the time I got back in bed, and I didn’t waste any time before I started jerking off again. That moment when I first opened the door was frozen in my mind, the way her legs were spread, the look on her face, the wetness on the vibrator. It was all too much and I came almost immediately.
I had just started stroking again, those images would not leave my mind, when my mother came into the room. I was frozen in place. I couldn’t cover up, my sheet was under me, I couldn’t pull my underwear up, I’d taken them completely off, and, for some unknown reason, I couldn’t let go of my cock. She was silhouetted against the hall light, and I noticed she’d put on one of her terrycloth robes. I saw her pause when she saw what I was doing. She seemed about to leave, then took a steadying breath, and walked over to my bed. Her eyes kept flicking to my hand wrapped around my cock, pulsating. She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled sheepishly.
“Looks like we’re both human.” She said as she glanced down at my hand around my cock again. “Sweetheart, we don’t need to be embarrassed about this. Everyone does it and it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” With that, she patted my stomach, inadvertently putting her fingers in a small puddle of my cum, one I’d made thinking about her fucking herself. She said “I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing,” and stood up. She rubbed her fingers together, and I saw her stick them in her mouth as she walked out of my room. She didn’t bother closing my door, nor did she close her door as she let the robe fall from her shoulders, letting me see that she was still naked. She laid down in bed, reached into her nightstand and pulled out her vibrator again. I started stroking myself again as I watched her suck on the vibrator to get it wet, and then slide it into herself. We watched each other while we masturbated, I came before her but didn’t stop stroking until she’d come too. Then, she turned off her tv, I turned off mine and we went to bed.
I don’t think either one of us ever closed those doors again. We would go to our separate bedrooms after I was done sucking on her toes, then we’d masturbate while watching each other. Usually, I’d get naked first and lay on top of the covers. I’d picture her feet and what I’d done to them that day while I started stroking myself. I was usually already hard from having her feet in mouth and it wasn’t long before I was moaning. Then she’d start playing with her nipples. Taking them between her fingers and pulling. She’d sometimes point the nipple up to her mouth and suck on it, all the while watching me stroke my fat cock. She didn’t always use her vibrator. Sometimes she stick her fingers in her mouth, make them very wet, the saliva dripping off them, then start rubbing her clit. She continue to play with her breasts with one hand while she rubbed her clit with the other. She’d roll the nipples between her fingers, then back to her mouth so she could suck on them, her hand a blur between her legs. She’d spread her legs wide when she was getting ready to cum, to show me that she was a squirter. She’d sometimes put her other hand between her legs while she squirted, her fingers getting soaked, then bring the hand back to her breasts. Slathering her nipples with her pussy juice, then sucking it off. It was no less exciting when she used her vibrator. She’d use both hands to work it in and out of her pussy. Fucking herself mercilessly while she watched my hand move up and down my cock. She’d always make sure to suck on it for a few minutes, make it nice and wet before she stuck it inside herself. After she came, no longer bothering to stifle her screams, she’d always clean it off with her mouth. It’d be dripping with her pussy juices every time she took it out, and she savored every drop. We watched each other every night. When I saw that she had no problem licking her own pussy juices, and remembering how she’d sucked my cum off her fingers that first night, I wasn’t embarrassed having her watch me scoop up my cum and eat it afterwards. I think it turned her on. Every night we’d go to bed, like any other mother and son, and every night we’d become each other’s masturbation partners. We only did that for a few months before our relationship progressed, but that will have to wait for part 2.

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