Victoria's Secret

This has nothing to do with underwear. Perhaps a bit, only in as much as everyone wears it. Victoria is my mother, Vic to my Dad, Mum to me.

I'm Timothy, Tim to my mates, Timmy to mum. I'm sure she thinks I'm still ten years old. Actually, I'm in my mid thirties. I have an itinerant lifestyle. It wouldn't suit everyone but it stops me getting bored. Our company has offices in central London but I'm seldom there. When I am, I have a small studio flat in the suburbs. I can't afford living closer in. Perhaps if I was there more often I'd take the plunge. Most of the time I'm on the road. I stay in B&B's and cheap hotels, living out of a holdall. Every day is different and I get to meet a lot of interesting people. Mum, bless her, has kept my room at home just as it was. I drop in when I'm in the area, do some laundry, pick up some of my things and catch up on family news. All fine so far.

My boss called me one Wednesday afternoon with a change to my schedule. He'd lined up an important client who would be leaving the country on Thursday night. As I was the closest, I got the job. On the plus side, the hotel he was staying in was only about forty five minutes drive from home.

The meeting was done over lunch. I think it went well. I decided to go home and surprise Mum. She's always pleased to see me. Although, I wouldn't have been due to visit for the next couple of weeks, if my schedule had stayed fixed. I thought she'd be pleased if I dropped in unexpected.

It was nearly three O'clock by the time I'd written up the meeting details for the boss and driven to my parents. I let myself in and left my shoes by the front door. Mum is incredibly house proud. She'd be horrified if anyone found any dust or dirt. It's always been shoes off. Failing earned me a clip round the ear, when I was younger. The sound of the vacuum cleaner was coming through the lounge door. Not unusual. I opened the door and was horror struck.

Mum wasn't cleaning. Her summer dress was barely on. The shoulder straps down, one hand massaging one of her breasts. The rest of the dress was bunched up around her middle. Her other hand was gripping the hose of the vacuum, against her pussy. She was holding it on and pulling it off her shaved pussy. As she pulled it away a longish pair of pussy lips were dragged out. Her eyes were closed and she was surely about to cum, judging by the noises coming from her mouth. One prolonged contact with the area around her clit and she let rip. As she did her eyes opened. She was as horrified as I'd been. I was still rooted to the spot.

"GOD TIMMY!" She said, throwing the hose aside and trying to cover up.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough, or too long, depending on your point of view."

"Don't tell your father."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"He wouldn't understand. He'd think he wasn't enough for me. Which is probably true but I don't want him to think like that."

I was confused, who wouldn't be. She seemed shocked that I was there but not entirely that I'd seen what she was doing. My face must have betrayed me.

"You can't take the moral high ground. Those magazines and books you have are absolutely filthy. Bet you thought you were good at hiding them. Your room reeks of sex, every time you visit."

I said nothing. What could I say. This was my mother.

"Don't worry. They're still there. I can't read them if they're in the bin. The magazines are OK but the books are better. For all their prudish attitudes, those Victorians were kinky."

"They are just stories."

"Doesn't make them any less sexy."

"I can't believe we're talking about this."

"After what you've seen, there doesn't seem to be much point hiding it. I'd rather you hadn't seen it but there we are. You did. I'm not ashamed of it but it would be for the best if your father didn't know."

I could probably see why. Dad is a little old fashioned. He doesn't own a pair of jeans. He wears trousers, a shirt and tie almost every day. He tucks the end of his tie into his shirt when he cleans the car or cuts the grass. He spends most of his spare time painting watercolour pictures. For an amateur he's quite good. I've always been a lot more like Mum. It now appears in more ways than I'd thought. I've never considered my mother in a sexual light, who would? I suppose some sons must. Let's be clear about this, even seeing what I had, I didn't want to sleep with her. However, the fact that she'd read and enjoyed my porn collection was a big take away from the current situation.

"Are you staying?"

"I've got tomorrow off. I did the boss a favour but I'll have to be away tomorrow evening."

"Fine."

She went to the kitchen and returned with a couple of glasses of brandy.

"We're a bit beyond tea." She said.

Our glasses chinked as we brought them together. I took a big swig. She had a sip. Then a couple more.

"Interesting taste you have. Eclectic. I like a bit of variety. Do you suppose that those novels were written in period, or someone wrote them recently in an old style?" She asked?

"Does it matter?

"I suppose not. They have the desired effect, for you too I suppose."

"I'm not answering that."

"You don't have to. I'm your mother I don't miss a thing. You jerk it as much as I rub mine. We've just kept it to ourselves. Not a pretty site for you I suppose, seeing me in full flow."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. However, seeing your mother virtually naked, sucking her pussy with a vacuum cleaner, shouldn't be something you should see. Let alone comment on.

"Flaps fluttering in the suction. Not to your taste."

"You've never spoken like this before."

"You never caught me having an orgasm before."

"I always kept out of the way when you were doing the hoovering. I didn't realise you were doing something else."

"I was cleaning, silly boy. I was hardly likely to be masturbating with you in the house. Particularly with your tastes. I don't always use the Hoover. I've got my own hidden things. This is fun. I love seeing your face. People my age like sex just as much as ones your age and I've had a lot more time to perfect it."

"Is this how it's going to be?"

"Now that it's out in the open, like my bits were, probably."

Dad came home and was probably as surprised to see me as mum had been. Possibly not. He didn't get his knob out in the living room and jack off. He ate dinner with us and went up to the box room, which is set up as his artist studio.

"See what I mean. He'd rather dabble with his brushes that dip his wick."

"I really didn't need to know that."

"Now you know why I do what I do. Judging by the contents of your bin, you aren't getting any more than me."

"Again, I'm not answering that."

"If you were getting plenty, you wouldn't be wanking so much. We're no different, you and me."

I suppose not. Maybe I knew about what Mum was like but just didn't like to admit it. Or she'd kept things secret a lot better than I had.

I went to bed with a totally different view of my mother. You would too, if you'd seen what I'd seen and been party to the subsequent verbal exchanges. In reality, most mothers must masturbate, or must have in the past. Mothers don't talk about it with their sons, do they?

I'd been awake for much of the night. No, not wanking, while thinking about the Hoover. Thinking about my mother and what her life must be like. I couldn't imagine being like me and being married to someone like Dad. How did she cope. Presumably with the Hoover and whatever else it was she had hidden round the house. The rest of their life seemed to be decent enough. So, I suppose that was some compensation.

In the morning, I sat and had breakfast with both of the before Dad left for work. Mum was full of suggestions.

"What wouldn't he ever do? Where would he never go?"

It was like a cryptic crossword clue. She was suggesting that I go hunting, like she must have done with my magazines and books. She was talking about Dad. He's not practical, more artistic than artisanal. Where would Dad never go, or what wouldn't he do. It had to be the kitchen. Dad doesn't cook. Actually, he rarely even goes in there. He doesn't cook but you can't store things in the oven, or food cupboards What else? Washing up. They have a dishwasher. Cleaning. That is definitely mum's thing, not his.

Best bet, under the sink. A cupboard full of cleaning gear. Dad wouldn't have a clue. Right at he back, a bag, a bit bigger than a wash bag but smaller than a holdall. I handed it to Mum.

"Are we even? You've found my stuff, now I've found yours."

"Nearly."

She undid the zip and tipped out the contents on the dining table.

"Don't look at me like that. He won't so I do."

She must have been referring to the couple of strings of anal beads and several butt plugs.

"Reading about young Victorian ladies being taken up the bum, with large members wasn't something I could just ignore. So I gave it a try. Ever done it?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"Those rabbit things are a revelation. Too much sometimes."

"You really don't care, do you."

"I do but I 'm not willing to lie. Reading about young ladies being held down and having their bottoms done is hot stuff. Fantasising that you are one of them, rather than being a middle aged suburban housewife is a lot more fun. Your magazines have a lot of anal in them too. Mummies can like botty fun too."

I remained silent.

"I'm a woman, who likes a lot of sex but who doesn't get nearly enough. Not a problem I should be laying on you but you must understand."

"I wish I didn't"

She picked up her collection, one item at a time. The speed of her re-packing so slow that it appeared that she was exhibiting them for me. Two strings of beads, three butt plugs, one rabbit, two small vibrators and a long bendy double ended dildo. She zipped up the bag and returned it to it's hiding place.

I had to leave before anything else happened or was said. I was totally screwed up. OK, so like many men I like porn. Unlike most, sharing it with my mother must be unusual. Perhaps all mums find their son's porn. I'd guess most would choose to bin it or at least ignore it. Were many like Mum? Did they read it and enjoy it?

I switched back into work mode. Trying to blank out what I'd witnessed and what Mum had said but the thoughts kept intruding at the most inopportune times. Like she'd said, it was out in the open, you can't ignore it, you have to deal with it. That was proving more difficult for me, than it appeared to be for mum. I was surprised how chilled she was about it, after the initial shock.

Back in my outer London shoe box apartment, initially I resisted the temptation to wank, knowing what thought would end up front and centre in my mind. With a healthy sex drive you can only do that for so long before something has to give. I had my first wet dream in years and you can guess what the trigger was.

In the circumstances you can either choose to ignore the situation entirely or embrace it. I hadn't wanted to change the sort of relationship I have with Mum but there was no option now. I could either go home less and hope that Dad was around all of the time or I could play along.

The novels Mum likes so much came from a second-hand book shop near our office. I began spending my lunchtimes there, searching for more. Mostly I came out empty handed but occasionally I'd find a gem. A couple were paperbacks, purporting to be reprints of older books. Whether they were or not didn't matter. There were several hardbacks which were definitely older.

I had a couple of weeks off for my summer holiday. A week of it was spent sailing around the Mediterranean with a few mates. We got tans, drank too much and ate loads of good food, when we moored in port. The second week, I'd arranged to go home. Time to meet the situation head on.

It was just after lunch on Monday by the time I arrived. Knowing I was coming this time, Mum was sat in the lounge. No Hoover, nothing showing. I was relieved, at least for now. With Dad at work, It was safe to hand over the booty, half a dozen books. Mum now had her own library. She'd have to be creative, you can't reasonably hide them under the sink. She

just sat and began reading. She was quiet for a long time.

"Have you read these?" She asked.

"Just flicked through. They're for you."

"This one's really kinky. Bondage, spanking, incest. A father and his daughters."

"Not like it?"

She didn't speak but lifted her skirt to show a narrow damp stain on her blue pants. I had a pretty good idea what would be happening next I got up to leave

"Stay, please."

This was make or break time. Leave and risk upsetting her. Stay and deal with the fallout. There wouldn't be any from her, I was sure. It would all be in my head. She must have known what I'd decide. A hand slid beneath the waistband of her skirt, while she continued to read. She seemed to get an added kick from me being there. As though it made it more exciting, extra naughty. About ten minutes was all it took for her to cum. Quieter and less convulsive than she'd been with the Hoover. She put the book down and true to form, she went straight to the kitchen to wash her hands.

"Thank you, both for the books and for not leaving. Having sex is always better if you can share the experience with someone else. Not that I'm expecting us to share any more than our interest and a bit of masturbation."

"Glad to hear it. Oh no. You're not expecting me...."

She just smirked. before leafing through the rest of the books, trying to get the gist of the contents. Throwing out comments like,

"Bondage.... in the stables.... with the butler and footman.... lot of incest in this one."

That took up most of the afternoon. Soon enough time to get dinner ready for when dad got home.

My porn collection had stayed firmly in it's, not very secure, hiding place on my last visit. Now, I took it out. It has been a while. Time to get reacquainted and satisfy myself in the way mum had correctly assumed, twice, before I fell asleep. No worries to keep me awake this time. Was I coming round to the idea of this new relationship with Mum? I gave it little to no thought.

I slept in, it was nearly ten when I woke. I must have needed it. I dressed slowly. No point rushing, I'd missed breakfast and Dad would be long gone. As a result, Mum wasn't bothered what she did. Which was the most extreme thing I'd seen, not just from her but from anyone. Totally naked, she was kneeling on the floor, bent over the sofa. One hand turning the pages of one of her new books. That wasn't the half of it. Her other hand was working a vibrator into her pussy and wedged between her buttocks the end of a large black butt plug.

"JESUS!"

"No. Just me.

"Don't you have any shame?"

"Not anymore. Your fault. This book is amazing. Lord and his lady having sex. The butler comes in, rogers her hard in the bum with a big dick and she loves it."

"You can read it without re-enacting it."

"You might. I don't want to."

It may seem an odd thing to do but I went to the kitchen to make myself a strong cup of coffee. Not long after the kettle had boiled, I heard her cum. I left what I thought was a reasonable time, before I went back in. She hadn't moved.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Coffee."

"Take a picture."

"No."

"I want to see. I can't unless you do."

Some young men would jump at the chance not only to see their mothers doing something as dirty as this. Having the opportunity to take pictures of it would have them cumming in their pants. I'm not one of them. I'd stumbled into this. Instead of actively seeking this out, Mum was the driving force. Seems odd doesn't it. It bloody well was. I did as she asked. I pulled out my phone, took a couple of pictures and even a short video clip.

"Got a nice bum, for an old biddy haven't I? Shame your father won't put his knob it it."

"Whoa!"

She pulled out the vibrator and with the butt plug still inserted disappeared upstairs. She returned fully dressed, as though none of the foregoing had happened.

"Can you get those things onto my phone?"

I took it and transferred them over. She seemed pleased.

"Wish your father would get this interested. No hope of that now. You'll have to do."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"I've heard you, cleaned up after you, now I want to watch."

"NO!"

She didn't force the issue and I thought that was the end of it. She wasn't about to give up. On Wednesday i went out to do some shopping, picking up things for that evening's dinner. When I returned, mum was again naked on her knees riding a dildo, her boobs bouncing as she rose and fell.

"The squire is doing his wife's maid on horseback. Is that even possible?" She asked, pointing down at he pages of an open book.

"PHOTOS! NO. NO. I NEED FILM, I'M CLOSE."

Having done this once, I couldn't really refuse. Although, I should have done. I slumped down onto a seat opposite her, resigned to my fate and took out my phone. Did viewing through my phone in some way separate me from the action? It meant that I didn't have to make eye contact. I continued recording for a minute beyond her perhaps overly dramatic orgasm. She'd definitely cum but some of her actions appear to have been made for my benefit, rather than purely spontaneous. as a result of her climax. She wanted to watch it back instantly. Followed a few minutes later by a demand for a copy.

On Thursday morning, not long after Dad had left for work, I was sat in the lounge drinking my second coffee of the morning, when mum walked in. Thankfully, she was fully clothed. However, she walked over dumped my porn collection on my lap. On top of the bundle was my P spot vibrator and small bottle of lube.

"You've been through my bag."

"Just curious. That thing looks strange. More weird than any of mine."

I am probably more like Mum than I care to admit. One of my girlfriends was really into pegging. She loved having the power and the upper hand. As well as seeing how far I'd spurt when she fucked me. Usually, far enough to keep her happy. She was a one off. I wish we could have made things work outside the bedroom. When she left she took most of my money. What I took away from it was a liking for penetration.

"You've seen me using mine. Show me yours."

The constant pressure was too much for me. I'd been bombarded with it since I arrived and I finally gave in. Lifting what she'd dropped on me and putting it on the floor. I stood and started getting undressed. She immediately took out her phone.

"No."

She just sat there holding her phone. No sign of complying with my instruction.

"Fine. Do whatever you want. You always get your way in the end."

She gave me a knowing smile. She's always ruled the roost. Even Dad knows his place. I stripped naked. I didn't want to stain my clothes, I know what normally happens when I use this toy.

"Nice size and shape."

"This is difficult enough already without your comments."

Mothers always love their sons. They love everything about them but that shouldn't include their cocks. I lay on the carpet. The ridiculous thought crossed my mind, that Mum would want to shampoo the carpet when I was done. Raising my knees, I applied lube to my arse and the vibrator. As I inserted it, I could hear Mum cooing. I picked up one of my mags and turned on the device, moving it to my favourite setting. I read a well remembered article. An account of a guy's first pegging. Mum seemed totally unable to comprehend that I'd shot a huge amount of cum up my body, without touching my cock. Her presence did add something to me that I'd not counted on. It was intense. Really intense. As I came my legs straightened, my toes curled up. As a result the vibrator was clamped tight in my arse and still pulsing. I cried out.

"OFF. OFF."

I don't think she understood at first but after what seemed like an eternity her hand was between my legs fumbling for the switch.

"Are you alright Timmy?"

"Mmm."

"Wow. Is it always like that?"

"Of course not. It was with Melanie."

I probably shouldn't have said that but I wasn't thinking straight.

"I liked her. Shame you split up."

"Now it wasn't. She cleared out my bank account."

"She must have done something good before that. I never had her down as being like us. She seemed so nice and sweet."

"She wasn't so nice and sweet with a dildo strapped to her crotch."

"Maybe I should try that with your father."

"I really don't want to think about that and I don't want to know if you do it."

"Don't be silly. He's never going to agree to that. I wouldn't even ask. Want to watch the film?"

"It's video. No. You keep it."

"Can we make some more?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Graham will be home all weekend. That only leaves the rest of today and tomorrow."

"Haven't you had enough?"

"Have you?"

That was difficult to answer. I'd normally have been wanking more than I had, since I got here. Mum's actions had clouded my thinking and given me a lot to consider. It meant more thinking and less doing. She must have known, I'd normally cum a couple of times a day. I'd obviously been as bad at keeping quiet as I had at hiding my porn. The current conversation all the more strange as she was dressed and I was still naked, covered in cum, with a toy stuffed in my arse. She saw my dilemma.

She went to the kitchen and returned with some sheets of paper towel.

"Too much for paper tissues." She said.

I expected her to hand the towels to me. Instead, she wiped it up. Fuck. That was bloody odd. Particularly when she wiped a final bead of cum from the tip of my knob. She hadn't touched me but as near as made no difference. Only a sheet of absorbent paper between my cock and her fingers. The same went for the removal of the vibrator. She held the base, eased it out and wiped it clean. Too close and intimate for comfort. She pushed the button on the base and cycled through the functions.

"I need one of these."

"It's designed for men but they do other things."

"Show me."

"At least let me get dressed."

"Hurry up then."

Back within the protective armour of my clothes, I took out my phone and showed her some options. She was like a kid in a sweet shop. I ordered her a plug and beads, both with multiple vibrating functions.

"Don't expect too much else for your birthday."

I was glad they wouldn't arrive until after I'd gone home.

That afternoon was one of the strangest experiences, sexual or otherwise, of my whole life. I was up in my room, sorting out some of my old stuff, trying to decide whether to keep it, or take it to the rubbish dump. Mum came in carrying one of her new books. She sat on the end of the bed and started reading it out loud. She'd read me bedtime stories when I was little. They revolved around fluffy bunnies, teddy bears and pixies, not mothers and sons fucking, which is what I was getting now. She was great at bedtime stories, she made the characters come alive. She was doing the same now. Her voice changed as the two characters interacted. Her delivery becoming more and more breathless as the sex between them intensified. I read the books I have but it was never anywhere near as good as this. As she turned the page she said,

"Come and sit here."

The pair of us were sat on the bed. She placed the book down on the duvet but continued to read. She lifted her skirt, revealing nothing beneath except her pussy, which she began to rub. I was totally lost. I almost broke the zip on my trousers in my haste to follow suit. Masturbating with your mother, while she reads a pornographic novel to you, isn't normal. It didn't make it any less satisfying when the pair of us came together, she with a series of jerky body movements, me with spurts of cum across the duvet, one of which hit the book. She lifted it up and licked away that small part of my deposit.

"Can't have the pages sticking together."

"That's disgusting?"

"Think so?"

"Definitely."

"Try missing the book in future then."

Leaving aside the fact that my mother had just eaten some of my cum, the storytelling had been amazing. Better than reading the books myself and way better than my magazines. This turned me on even more than what Melanie had done for and to me. Mum knew she'd found the key that unlocked things for me.

Friday was the last day that just the two of us would have together. The lines between being mother and son had been blurred. On Friday they were totally erased. Dad left for work. Leaving an appropriate gap we moved to my room by ten in the morning. Naked with phones at the ready, Mum began reading. We masturbated with fingers, vibrators and butt plugs. By four in the afternoon, I'd cum five times and my cock was red and sore. The duvet was horribly stained, with my cum and the result of mum's orgasms, which must have doubled what I'd achieved, even though she'd been doing the reading.

She was in raptures watching the videos back. I'd freaked when she'd licked the book. I did nothing when she licked and sucked up almost everything I'd produced that day. I didn't want to know what she did with my father but I got the impression that she was having way more fun with me. We hadn't fucked and we were never going to. She had a taste for my cum but she'd not touched my cock. Nor had I touched her at all. Not in any sexual way.

The rest of my stay was no different to any of my normal visits. The three of us just like a normal family. At least from Dad's perspective.

I had an immense amount of contemplation to do, when I got home. Everyone at work asked if I'd enjoyed my holiday. That was difficult to answer truthfully. The week on the yacht had been great. The week with Mum had been enlightening. Not just what I'd learned about her but myself too. What had happened to me could have made the plot of one of the books Mum loves so much. I continue to seek them out, hoping that she'll read them to me when I visit next.