Jamie's Needs

I had seen the look in Jamie's eyes when I had told him that I wasn't averse to anal sex and I had no doubt that Jamie wanted to go well beyond what we had done so far. How I felt about it, well, that was more complicated. Right at the top of my list was a fear of getting pregnant but it wasn't just the practical difficulties; the idea of being fucked by Jamie, whether normally or anally, was a little further outside the mother son relationship than I wanted to go. I wanted his head at my breast more than I wanted his prick in my arse.

And then the tea was ready and I called him to table.

A couple of days later a package arrived in the post. It was addressed to Jamie so I left it on his bed for him to open when he got home. Obviously I was intrigued as to what he was up to but I draw the line at opening his mail. Anyway it was in one of those packages that you can't open without it being obvious.

That evening there was a certain amount of bustle from Jamie's room and, as I was cooking tea, he came into the kitchen to borrow the scissors. I pointedly didn't ask about the parcel; although I was dying to find out what was in it I didn't want to ruin the surprise. When he came to the table he seemed very excited and anxious to get on.

"So, are you off out with Adam and Wayne tonight?" I asked once the meal was over.

"Not tonight, mum. I thought I'd spend some time with you."

"That will be nice. Do you have anything in mind?" I couldn't help having a little tease.

"There's some OK stuff on the TV tonight. There's a new comedy series I'd like to watch. But, mum..."

"What honey?"

"Just... just wait there a moment." Jamie got up from the table and returned with a box, one of those ones in shiny cardboard that you get from the card shops. A pink ribbon held it closed and, by his standards, he'd been to a lot of trouble.

"Please, mum, this is for you." He handed it over.

"Oh, sweetie, that's so kind of you. Can I open it now?"

"Yes, please, mum."

We went through to the lounge and I put the box on the coffee table. I pulled at the ribbon and freed it from the box and, when I lifted the lid, there inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was the cheapest, tartiest lingerie set ever made. The whole ensemble was made from scarlet nylon and, as I took the items, one by one, out of the box and laid them on the table I was able to see exactly what he had bought for me. For starters there were the split crotch panties with a matching peep-hole bra. Then there was a waspie corset with suspenders for the inevitable fishnet stockings. The ensemble was topped off with a sort of bedjacket thing, still in the same flimsy nylon.

"Oh, sweetie, they're gorgeous and so sexy," I gushed. "Shall I try them on?"

"Yes, please, mum." The poor boy's eyes were bright with excitement.

"Well, you clear away the dishes and, by the time you've done I'll be ready for you." I put the stuff back in the box so as to carry it through to my bedroom. When I got there I put the box on my bed and laid the stuff out again. Whatever I thought of the poor boy's taste I couldn't fault his generosity and there was no way I wasn't going through with this. However there was also no way I was sitting in the lounge looking like a cheap whore whilst watching TV. I put on the panties; the waist was heavily elasticated in a one-size-doesn't-quite-fit-all sort of way and, when properly arranged, my pussy and backside were framed in cheap red nylon lace. The bra wasn't too bad a fit; he must have got my measurements from somewhere. The cups were split down the middle and the two halves tied together with a piece of red ribbon. Next on was the waspie. Again he had done well to get the right size but, even so, I was glad I wouldn't be wearing it for long. I slipped the suspender straps under the panties and turned to the stockings. Bloody stockings, I hate them, especially fishnets but, if that is what he wanted, who was I to complain. I put them on and fastened the suspenders. It took a while to get them straight and even but in the end I managed it. Then I slipped the jacket over my shoulders.

I went over and looked at myself in the mirror. I adjusted bits here and there but there was no way I was going to look anything other than a cut-price slut. Still, if he could make the effort then so could I. Ten minutes at my dressing table fixed my hair and make up and I was ready for him. I went and draped myself on the bed.

"Honey!" I called out.

"Yes, mum?" Jamie called back.

"Will you come in here a moment?"

Seconds later Jamie appeared at my bedroom door.

"Oh, wow, mum, you're..." the poor thing was lost for words.

"Do I gather you like it, then," I asked but I didn't really need to. Half mesmerised and with his mouth wide open he walked across the room until he was next to the bed.

"And how about him?" I reached out and gently stroked the bulge in his jeans. "Does he like what he sees? Let's have a look, shall we?" I undid his jeans and pushed them down and his rock hard prick sprung forth.

"Ooh, yes," I continued. "Big and strong and hard, just how I like it. Now, why don't you take off your clothes and lie down next to me."

Jamie was still staring at me with his tongue out but, as I continued to push his jeans down he took over, pushed them to the floor and stepped out of them. His tee shirt quickly followed and he stood beside me naked. For all our fooling around this was the first time I'd seen him naked since he was small and I hadn't realised what a sexy body he had. Whilst he was no athlete his body was neat and trim and, as for his prick, I couldn't help but reach out and fondle it.

"Come on, lover boy, come and keep your mother warm," I said, my voice all husky.

"He lay down on the bed and, whilst his desire was obvious, he was still a little shy so I knew I would have to take the lead. I reached for the ribbons holding the bra cup over my breast together.

"I wonder if these ribbons undo," I said playfully. "Do you want to find out?"

"Yes, please, mum."

"Oh, I'm all fingers and thumbs," I said after I'd fiddled with the bow a while. "Why don't you do it for me?"

Jamie didn't hesitate, he almost tore the ribbon off and, pushing the two halves of the bra cup aside, his lips clamped on to my now exposed nipple. Now I didn't need to fake it any more; what Jamie lacked in experience he more than made up for with the intensity of his passion. With his lips clamped on my nipple his hands gripped my body, holding me tight. Urgently he humped himself against me, rubbing his prick against my thigh. And then he pushed my thighs apart with his knees and now his prick was rubbing directly against my pussy. The split crotch of the panties was giving me no protection and I could feel the tip of his prick searching for a way in. Part of me, most of me, just wanted to spread myself wide and welcome him inside, to feel his prick filling me up but the very real fear of pregnancy held me back.

"Jamie, Jamie, sweetie, please, honey, we must stop. I haven't got any protection and we mustn't make babies."

Jamie unclamped himself from my nipple and, holding me by my shoulders lifted himself up, looking down at me, pinning me to the bed.

"I need you, mummy, I need you so bad," he panted. I started to wonder whether I could control this genie I'd just unleashed from his bottle.

"I need you too, honey, but we can't risk making babies," I replied.

"I need you so bad," he moaned and, all the while, he was wriggling against me, trying to force his way in. I was getting seriously concerned as to whether he could control himself.

"Please, baby," I pleaded and then it came to me. "Why don't we do anal. You can fuck my bum hole if you want."

Jamie didn't hesitate for a second but rolled me over and, lay on top of me, his hands reached underneath to grab my tits whilst his prick sawed up and down the crease of my bum. All the while he was grunting and groaning like an animal and I knew I had to do something fast.

"Wait a second, honey," I called out and, in desperation, I stretched my arm out and found I could just reach the bedside cabinet, I scrabbled around inside the top drawer and found a tube of something, either the lube or, possibly, some cream left over from a yeast infection. Whichever it was it would be better than nothing so I squeezed out a generous portion, reached in between us and smeared it around. My hand gripped his prick and gave it a generous coating before I pushed up with my bum and guided him in.

"Please, baby, be gentle, you're hurting mummy!" I cried out as he forced himself in. Not only was he thicker than my vibrator but his prick wasn't as smooth either and it was being driven in by the urgency of his desire, not my needs or wants. I felt he would split me asunder as, time and time again, he drove himself inside me until he was buried to the hilt. With each thrust he would grip my tits harder, using them as handles to pull my body towards him. As his thrusting built to a crescendo I grabbed the pillow and buried my face in it, biting the material, filling my mouth so as not to scream out.

And I didn't have to wait long before, with a another wild, animal cry, he climaxed. He seemed to want to force his entire being up my backside as, time and time again, he pumped his spunk deep, deep into my bowels. Did it hurt? I was in agony. Did I mind? Not in the least. For all the pain, for all the mauling, for all that he was effectively raping me, it was one of the most exhilarating things I had ever done. I wanted to be taken, plundered, used and abused if that was what my son needed. When he finally collapse and lay on top of me with his prick slowly subsiding inside me I felt an inner peace and I could have lain like that forever. It was Jamie who was the first to speak.

"Mummy, are you OK?" he asked gently in my ear.

I rolled over underneath him so we were, once more, face to face,

"Oh, my precious baby, that was fantastic. Was it good for you as well?" I asked.

"Mummy, oh mummy, oh mummy," Jamie began to sob. The strength of the conflicting emotions was overwhelming the poor boy. "I didn't mean to hurt you, really I didn't. I just couldn't stop myself."

"Shh, baby boy, shh," I comforted him. "You only hurt me a little bit. The rest was wonderful. Anyway, it will be better next time."

"Next time?"

"Of course there will be a next time," I reassured him." Not right away, I'm still a little sore but, maybe tomorrow. Would you like that?"

"Yes please, mummy," he replied and we cuddled together as mother and son should.

That night Jamie moved into my bed. Now that we were lovers it seemed the thing to do. I wasn't quite prepared for how insatiable his appetite was and, at first, my backside was getting rather more abuse than I could really handle. However I went to the family planning to get back on the pill and bought some condoms to be doubly safe so that, after a few days, we could fuck properly as well. Even so, Jamie still preferred to take me from behind and, within reason, I was happy to oblige.

Gradually Jamie became more a proficient lover; learning to give as well as to take. He was never going to be exactly gentle but that was all part of it for me. I loved the intensity of his passion, the depth of his desire; these were needs that spoke to the mother within me and it was deeply satisfying to meet them.

One thing I hadn't quite bargained on was Jamie's jealousy. When it had just been the mucky videos of me in the shower Jamie had been quite happy to share them with his friends. Now it was all getting real he made it quite clear that, as far as he was concerned, my little sex shows were for him and him alone. One evening when Wayne and Adam were round and the three of them were playing computer games I wore a tiny miniskirt I had picked up at the market for just this sort of occasion. I went into Jamie's room on the pretence of offering the lads coffee and made sure that I bent over so that they could see exactly what panties, or should that be lack of panties, I was wearing. Jamie came storming out after me and we had a big emotional scene and I had to promise not to do it again.

And then, one afternoon, Wayne came round to call for Jamie who was out at the time and not due back for quite a while. Maybe I shouldn't have invited him in but, well, I was fond of the lad and was bored. I wasn't exactly flirting but I was wearing a mid thigh housecoat that Jamie rather liked and precious little else underneath. I sat Wayne down on the sofa and went to make us both a cup of coffee. OK, whilst I was in the kitchen I did undo the top button of the housecoat but, well, it's nice to be fancied and, at that point, I really didn't mean to take it any further. I took the coffees through to the lounge and sat opposite Wayne. Whilst we chatted away I crossed my legs and let the housecoat rise up my thighs. At this point I wasn't exactly showing anything but I was hinting at more.

Wayne couldn't keep his eyes off my thighs and it wasn't long before the bulge in Wayne's jeans became obvious and the poor lad was in some discomfort. That, of course, woke the tease in me. I 'accidentally' showed more and more thigh whilst chatting gaily about last night's TV.

"You seem a little distracted," I said at last. "Are you trying to look at my panties?"

Wayne just blushed and shook his head.

"Oh, I think you were. Let me put you out of your misery, let me show them to you."

Wayne just sat there and I knew I'd already gone too far but I loved the look on his face as I stood up and started to undo the buttons on my housecoat. Then I held it open like some sort of flasher, which I guess I was, and said, "Oops, I seem to have forgotten to wear any!"

I love that moment, the one where they realise they're getting an eyeful and don't know what to say or do. The bulge in Wayne's jeans was now enormous so, without fastening my housecoat, I knelt down in front of him and reached for his fly.

"You seem a little tense," I said softly. "Why don't I sort it out for you?"

"Please, Mrs Morris," Wayne said as I untangled his prick from his undies. "I'm not sure we should... What about Jamie?"

"Jamie's not here and, well...." I bobbed my head down and took the tip of his prick in my mouth. Any reservations he might have had were fast disappearing.

"Oh, Mrs Morris," he groaned as he put his head back and closed his eyes.

I guess we were too tied up in what we were doing to hear the front door as Jamie, who had been suffering from one of his headaches, came home early. When he saw what we were up to he went totally ballistic. He picked up one the crystal ashtray from the coffee table, pushed me to one side, and used it to beat Wayne about the head. Wayne was so taken by surprise that he never got a chance to protect himself and, by the time I had picked myself up off the floor the whole of the left side of Wayne's head was a bloody pulp. The ashtray had smashed but Jamie was still half of it to pummel into Wayne all the while shouting "Leave her alone, she's mine, she's my mum, not yours."

I grabbed him by the leg to try and pull him off but when he looked down at me it wasn't my son I saw but some sort of monster. His face was distorted in a grimace of hatred.

"Whore!" he spat in my face and then lashed out with his foot. His Doc Martins connected with my skull and it all went dark.

It was a neighbour who called the police. Jamie had stormed off and left the front door open and, when Mrs Jenkins from next door looked in to check if all was well she found that it wasn't. She called an ambulance but Wayne had already died from his extensive brain injuries. As for me, I had multiple bruises and fractures. It would appear that the kick that had knocked me out was far from the last Jamie had thrown at me. The police surgeon noted that the bulk of the kicks seemed to have been aimed at my groin area.

The police weren't very understanding, nor was Wayne's mum, for that matter, but I hadn't actually done anything wrong so they had to let me go. However, I couldn't go home, not with the neighbours and all, and now that the dust has settled I live in a completely different town near to the high security psychiatric hospital where Jamie now lives. They won't let me visit, the doctors say it wouldn't be helpful, but it's nice to be near him. After all, he is my son.

Mind you, there's a young lad who lives across the way...