Getting To Know You Ch. 02

"JOHN!" she cried in a shocked tone.

She was a couple of inches shorter than me, and as I closed the distance between us I looked down at her as menacingly as I could. "Undo your skirt, pull down the zipper, and let it slide to the floor. I want to see your stockings!"

She just stood there looking up at me, her breath suddenly shortening causing her breasts to heave in front of me. "Nice tits too," I added, and reached my hand out to cup her left breast.

She backed away from me as I did so. She looked panic-stricken. "How can you say such things," she moaned. "How can you even think such things?"

I followed her as she backed down the hall until she reached the bottom of the stairs. For a moment she halted and my outstretched hand clasped itself around her breast. As I tightened my grip she tried to turn up the stairs, but my hand caught around the lacy material. As she stumbled up the first step her blouse ripped open, buttons popping in all directions, revealing a tight white satin bra that pushed her breasts upwards into a deep cleavage.

"John!!" she almost screamed. "What are you doing?"

I pulled at the tatters of her blouse, ripping the rest away. Clumsily she tried to continue up the stairs, but stumbled and fell forward on her face. I moved up two steps and stood over her, my legs either side of her body.

"I want to see your stockings." I repeated. "Take off your skirt".

"Noo ...!" she wailed, and tried to scrambled further up the stairs.

I grabbed at her hair and pulled her head back, but she screamed so loudly that I let go, and she half-crawled, half-scrambled up the rest of the stairs. She disappeared round the corner into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

With a deep sigh I sat down on the bottom step. I knew I could not continue like this. Dominance was one thing but brutal rape was something else. At that scream from mother I had instantly lost my erection. I wanted her body (and I really really wanted to see her stockings!), but this was not the way forward.

"Be more subtle damn it, " I whispered to myself. "Make her submit to you, don't fucking batter the life out of her!"

With a sudden resolve I got up and followed her up the stairs. Somewhere at the back off my mind a new plan was forming. I walked up to her bedroom door and knocked softly.

"Mother?" I called.

There was no reply.

"Please talk to me mother!"

"Go away John," she said softly from behind the door.

"I'm sorry Mother I don't know what came over me. I won't hurt you anymore. Let me come in and explain." It seemed unlikely she would open the door so easily, but it was worth a try.

"Explain what?" she hissed through the door. "Why you suddenly think it's a clever idea to rape your own mother!!"

I thought for a moment. Then I said "yes ... I suppose I was trying to rape you. I'm sorry. That won't happen again. Let me explain. After such an assault I MUST explain, what happened and why."

"You won't ... do it again?" she said uncertainly.

"I swear I won't mother. I swear it ..."

I hear the key turn in the lock, and the door opened a fraction.

"Explain then." She said simply, keeping the door firmly in her hands.

"Let me come in." I whispered softly.

"No, explain first."

I sighed and leant again the door arch. "Ok, I'll try. " I said.

She looked at me with big mournful eyes, and I could see that she was still without a top. The swell of her breasts called to me from the shadows. Even though I knew this was a game, and it would never happen like this in real life, I was happily falling into my new part.

"I have always desired you mother," I began. "Right from as early an age as I can remember. The way you stood, the way you dressed, the way you spoke, were always so wonderful. Even before I knew what sex was I wanted to touch and stroke you. I loved you so much ... I still do."

"John ..." she whispered softly.

"Today, when I saw you, something snapped inside me. I Remembered how sexy you were in your stockings on those few odd times I saw them as a child. I have a fetish now for stockings ... I have a fetish for you. I'm so sorry ... really I am."

The door open and she stood there before me in her bra and skirt.

"You poor boy," she said gently. "But you mustn't do those things, it's wrong."

"I won't hurt you again mummy," I said. "I didn't mean to hurt you ... but I desire you so much ... please let me see your stockings ... please."

She stood there thoughtfully for a moment. "I can't ... I mustn't," she said very softly and gently. "It's wrong John, wrong to ask me ... wrong for me to let you see my ... my lingerie."

"Why?" I said simply. "What harm would it do now? We're both mature adults. I'm not a child anymore. Please, do this for me."

She looked up at me, her eyes growing large and round. "But ... " she started to say. "I can't ... I mustn't."

I looked down at her as gently as I could, and said with real feeling. "Please Mummy ... please."

Slowly ... very slowly she reach for the button on her dress and undid it. "I' shouldn't," she said again as she gently lowered the zipper. Her skirt fell to the floor revealing her legs clad in black seamed fully-fashioned stockings. She stepped out of the dress and stood there waiting.

I looked down in a slow and deliberate way, and my sudden intake of breath was not feigned. Her legs were perfect, and the suspender belt and stockings as erotic as anything I had ever seen.

"Thank you," I breathed, as I moved to her and dropped to my knees in front of her.

This elaborate game now began to take on a life of it's own. I began to understand what being dominant really means. Rape was not the answer, rather I had to make her bend to my desires through persistence and persuasion. At the same time I knew what I wanted and that I would not stop until I got it, but encouraging her to give it to me freely was not only more rational but also far more sexy.

She stood there entirely still whilst my shaking hands gently reached up to stroke her legs. I touched the material of the stockings, feeling it's slightly rough but warm texture. I ran my hands up the dark smoothness of her legs, my fingers lingering on the suspender clips, my eyes feasting on the bands of darkness that transformed themselves into her stocking-tops.

After a moment both my hands circled around her sensuous and satin-covered legs, and my head lowered to that magic place where the flesh above her stockings was revealed either side of the thin strip of fabric that covered her bush. Gently I kissed at this holy place, first one side then the other, and finally I buried my face in the place in between, pressing my mouth onto her cunt. At the same time my hands reached up to embrace her buttocks.

"No ... John ... don't", she murmured softly. "This is wrong. I'm your mother. You cannot kiss me there ... not your own mother." But as she said the words her hands softly caressed my head, and she made no move to retreat.

As if in a trance I continued to worship her secret places. I kissed and licked at her thighs, my cheeks caressing her stocking-tops, my hands running up and down her legs. I pulled her closer and closer too me. I let my tongue try to slip under her panties, pushing and poking at the lips of her vagina. Half-heartedly she tried to push me back, but I could tell by the growing dampness around my face, that somewhere inside she really wanted to push my face further in and not pull it away. Eventually I began to nuzzle and chew at moist panty material, trying to take it all in my mouth. I could tell by her small sounds and sighs that she had given up resisting.

As I kneeled there, filling my mouth with her sex, I felt a power inside me that was at last unchained. With a last nuzzle I pulled my face back and slowly stood up. I looked deep into my mother's eyes. They had taken on a sleepy, far-off look.

"I love you," I said, as tenderly as I could.

She smiled through half-closed eyes.

"Now it's your turn." I whispered.

She looked confused, but as my hands reached for her shoulders and began gently exert a downward pressure, she finally understood. what I wanted.

"Oh ... no ... no!" she breathed as she sank to her knees.

She kneeled there in front of me, inches from my hard but hidden cock. For a moment her eyes left mine and glanced down at the bulge, and then back up again.

"Don't make me do this ... please John ... not your own mother." Her eyes seemed sad, sorrowful and pleading.

I smiled at her as my hand left her shoulders and reached down to undo my trousers. I let them fall to the floor and eased my throbbing cock from it's restraint in my underpants. It sprang up towards her face, coming to a shivering halt inches from her mouth.

"Open your mouth mother," I whispered, holding her eyes firmly to mine.

She looked up at me pleadingly. "No John, not your own mother, " she repeated.

"Yes mummy," I murmured. "My cock needs your soft velvet mouth ... it wants to come home."

As her mouth began to open I heard her sighing softly "don't cum ... not in mummy's mouth. Please don't cum. Do on my face if you must, but not in my mouth ..."

I slipped my hand around the back of her head and gently lowered her mouth onto me. "Suck it mummy ... swallow it deep," I whispered back to her.

Slowly she began to embrace my cock with her mouth, raising and lowering it up and down my penis. Each time she went deeper and deeper down, until my whole cock was disappearing inside her mouth and throat. All the while her soft cow-eyes looked up at me despairingly. As the tempo increased and my pleasure from this act mounted to ecstasy, I felt my balls tightening. I slipped my hands behind her head encouraging a strong backward and forward motion. Eventually I was fucking her face without restraint or hesitation.

"Sucking me you bitch," I whispered. "Fucking ... fucking ... bitch!"

As her hands came up and clutched at my buttocks I looked down into her eyes. Still they seem to plead with me not to go too far. I smiled at her ... and rammed my cock harder and harder into her face. Then will a yell of triumph I released a life-time of pent-up frustration, and filled her mouth with my white sticky cum.

"Swallow it ... " I whispered stroking her hair. "Drink it all down Mummy."

She coughed and gurgled as her mouth filled to overflowing with cum. Her panic-stricken eyes closed, but eventually she gulped and started to swallow frantically Despite this, numerous white strings of cum dribbled down her chin and dripped on to her breasts.

As my cock reduced in size I still held her head tight to my crotch, not letting her release it from her mouth. At the same time I lightly caressed her hair. Then I released her head and she pulled back taking a deep breath. On an impulse I reached down to her cum soaked chin, collecting the white stuff in my palm ... and then I gently lifted it up and smothered it all over her face, rubbing it lovingly around, smearing her lipstick and make-up.

V

Mother lay upon the bed dressed only in her panties, garter belt, black stockings and high-heeled shoes. I was sitting next to her, gently wiping the stains from her face with a perfumed tissue, and making soft sounds of reassurance.

"Thank you mummy, " I whispered. " I always dreamed that some day you would do that for me. It was ... unbelievable."

I stroked her face, softly touching her hair and curling it between my fingers. Her eyes were closed, but there was the merest hint of a smile on her face, and she seemed relaxed now. To be honest I had no idea if we were still playing the 'game', or if this were real.

"I love you Mum," I said simply.

Her eyes flickered open and she smiled sweetly at me.

"I ... I shouldn't be with you like this," she whispered. "But I love you too John ... so much. I'd do anything for you ... even ... this."

I bent forward and kissed her softly on the lips. As I lent back my hand wandered down from her hair, over her shoulder and across her breast, lingering for a moment on the nipple. I felt it harden at my touch. I swivelled slightly, running my hand across her flat stomach, ever so lightly over the mound of her sex, and coming to rest just above her stockings. I could feel the metal of the suspender clasp under my fingers, and my cock hardened again as I inwardly embraced the sensation of touching her suspenders. I turned around and looked down hungrily at her stockings.

I shivered inside as I admired how well she wore those stockings. They were smooth and tight and the suspenders were high up upon her thigh. I could see, even from where I was, that the seams were perfectly straight, running down to her shiny stiletto shoes. The shoes had a strap around the calf above her ankles, and the whole effect was like something out of a sexy men's magazine. Very lightly and gingerly I let my hand drift down to touch the material of her stocking-tops. I felt, as well as heard, the whisper sound of my rough finger-tips upon the nylon. I shivered, I couldn't help it. Although I didn't move my head, I could sense that mother was looking intently at my face.

I breathed a deep sigh and said softly, "Why am I so fascinated with your stockings? Why do they reach so deeply into my soul? Oh Mother they ... and you ... are so wonderful."

Again without looking at her face I felt her smile. "It's alright, I understand baby, I really do" she whispered. "Take your time ... touch them, feel them, enjoy them. My body and my stockings are yours to do with as you wish. Embrace them, worship them ... rip them to pieces ... do whatever gives you pleasure."

I looked up and met her smiling eyes, and for a moment I felt myself drowning in their warmth and tenderness. As I continued to caress her nylons, my fingers absorbing every touch and catch of skin as they moved slowly across the material, I realised that her eyes were subtly different from how I'd ever seen them before. They had a far-away sleepiness and a strange intensity that was both pleasing and electrifying. I stared deeply into their liquid pools, and felt myself drifting away. Dimly I realised that her eyes were betraying her horny sexuality, and that we were making love not just physically, through the touch of my fingers, but emotionally and spiritually as well.

I don't remember how long I sat there playing with her legs and the feel of her stockings, but almost without thought or understanding I found myself lying beside her, my hands now caressing her whole body. Her face, her mouth, her lips, her breasts, all succumbed to my touch. At the same time I felt her hand upon my penis probing gently, and quietly removing the garments that disturbed free access. I moaned silently as she took my flesh in her hand and began to massage my cock.

Again my memory dims and comes back to us both naked. I was on my back and her mouth had found it's way down to my cock and was licking and sucking and worshipping my sex. And then I was kissing her between her legs, my tongue dipping and probing and suckling at her most sensitive place. Finally I have this vague, dreamlike memory, of entering her slowly, of pushing deeply into that place from which my body had issued so many years before ... of love turning to passion, and of lust becoming unchained. I can still hear her soft voice whispering enchantments to me. Love, lust, incest and fetish, all reflected in her arousing murmurs.

"Fuck mummy," she was moaning. "Fuck mummy in her stockings ... mummy in her black seamed stockings, fuck mummy, make mummy suck your cock ... come in her mouth, on mummy's face. Fuck your naughty, naughty mummy ... show her who's boss, teach her ... take her!"

And interspersed between the cries of lust were words of love ...

"Oh John, I love you, I want you ... I'll do whatever you want. Anything. Love your mummy, kiss your mummy, take your mummy home ...oh my darling, darling John!"

And then I came to the sound of her cries of passion and orgasm. I filled her with my seed as she moaned and moaned, and held me deep inside her. Her legs wrapped around my body, her hands clutching my buttocks, forcing me up as deep as I could go. She thrust at me almost violently, dragging the last ounce of pleasure she could from our coupling.

For a while we slept, but then on through the evening and night we made love again ... and again and again, till at some point in the early hours I drifted away into the most satisfied sleep I'd ever known.

VI

In the morning I awoke to the sound of Mother's voice calling from downstairs. Evidently 'breakfast was ready', and I should wash up and come down. As I washed and dressed I mused to myself as to how far we'd really followed her so-called 'strategy'. All the stuff about freeing my blocked sexual drives started to seem like self-justification. Maybe all she ever wanted was to fuck her son, and all the rest of it was just her path to that end. Who knows? I didn't, and frankly I didn't care anymore. The barriers were down, and for a while we would simply enjoy each other. Maybe I would be 'damaged' psychologically by this, or maybe I would be 'healed'. Frankly, as I said, I didn't care anymore, although if I had to guess I suspected that it would be the latter. I certainly felt much better about my own sex and sexual needs. As I walked downstairs, I mused as to how I might just experiment a bit with the situation ... after all this was what she wanted ... to be used by a man. And me being her son only made it all more exciting for her.

Mother was laying the table as I entered and she was again dressed in her stunning 'business suit'. God, she looked so sexy in that outfit, with the smart buttoned jacket and tight skirt, and seamed stockings. Once again I felt a strong desire to know what she was wearing underneath that amazing outfit.

As I sat down and she placed a bowl of porridge in front of me.

"It's not very warm," she said curtly. "But them if you'd come down when I asked it would have been hot".

I eyed her suspiciously, wondering whether she was really feeling ratty with me ... or if, to quote Sherlock Holmes, 'the game was on again'.

"Sorry Mother," I said politely.

She sat down across the table from me, and, making no attempt to start eating. She looked at me darkly.

"We need to talk", she said. "What happened yesterday was atrocious, and cannot be allowed to continue. I think I'm being very understanding by not kicking you out of my house instantly. I expect a full apology ... and a promise that you will not try to ... to ... handle me again!".

Somewhere deep inside I felt a warm glow. The game was indeed on again.

I stood up abruptly. "I will make no such promise", I said firmly. "I don't think you realise that after yesterday things have changed around here".

She looked at me. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you will do what I tell you ... and not give me any orders!"

"I will not! I most definitely will not!"

"I think you need a lesson on who's boss here", I said as sternly as I could.

In one fluid motion I stood up and went behind her chair. As she started to rise in response I held her down in the chair by her shoulders.

"Stay where you are!" I commanded.

Still holding her with one hand, I reached down in front of her and put my finger in her bowl of porridge.

"Hmm", I murmured. "You're right it's almost cold".

"What are you doing?" she said in alarm. "Let go of me!".

With my free hand I lifted the bowl above her head.

"Are you going to behave yourself Mother?" I asked with exaggerated gentleness. "Are you going to be a good compliant mother, and do as you're told ... or are you going to be a fucking miserable old bitch who needs to be taught a lesson?"

"What ... what do you mean?" she said hesitantly.