Mum Can Do Anything

It had been a long week in the office, and I was pretty beat when I got home on Friday. The weekend lay ahead, with no work and time to relax. I parked on the drive and walked into the house. Svetlana, my wife, was in the kitchen just finishing tea. "Sausage and mash," she said.

"Sounds lovely, sweetheart," I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek as I went to the downstairs loo and washed my hands.

I took the opportunity to empty my bladder; that was a relief, letting some of the tension out and feeling more relaxed. I went back into the kitchen and sat at the table so that I could talk to Svetlana.

"How was your day, baby?" I asked. Svetlana doesn't work, well, not as in a paid job, that is. She looks after the home; that in itself is obviously work. She had worked when we first got married, and then when we started trying for a baby, she got laid off and, somehow, just never went back.

"Laundry, cleaning, how do you think my day was, Mik?"

"Whoa, baby, I was just asking."

"And stop fucking calling me baby."

I shut up; it seemed the safest. It seemed she was in one of her moods, and she seemed to be getting a lot of them lately, and when she did, there was nothing I could say or do that was right; she would simply criticize me, and things would end badly. On those days she wasn't the Svetlana I married.

We ate tea in silence; the mash was good, and the gravy was excellent, but had I said anything positive, somehow, she would have turned it into a negative. After we had eaten, I loaded the dishwasher and went and joined her on the sofa. We watched TV for a while and then went up to bed. I made an approach; you can guess how well that went.

In the morning I showered and got dressed and told Svetlana that I was going over to Mum's. I usually popped over at the weekends; sometimes Dad was there, sometimes he was playing golf; it just depended on the weather. It was pretty much the only exercise he did these days; I didn't begrudge him a missed meeting with his son.

Svetlana sometimes came, sometimes didn't; this was a 'didn't' day. I pulled up on my parents' drive, no car. I guessed Dad was playing golf.

"Oh, love, you only just missed him," Mum said as we hugged, and I followed her into the kitchen as she put the kettle on to make some tea. 'Only just missed him' meant he would be around four hours unless the rain started, and when I drove over, the sky was blue, with no cloud to be seen.

Mum made the tea, and we sat in the lounge, me on the sofa, Mum in the armchair opposite.

"So, how are things, sweetheart?" Mum asked; she always does.

"Fine, Mum, fine."

"And Svetlana, is she busy this morning?"

"Yes, I guess."

"Ah," Mum said.

She sipped at her tea and then looked at her. "So, what's up?" She asked.

"Nothing, Mum, okay?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Mikhael. I am your mother; I know when something is wrong."

I just said nothing, but with Mum, sometimes you don't need to say anything.

"It isn't anything a mum can't fix."

"You can't fix this, Mum; there are some things that even you cannot fix."

"Rubbish."

"Mum, just forget it, okay? Drink your tea."

"No, Mikhael, I won't forget it. Is it the trying-for-a-baby thing? Is it not working? Is that what it is? Because that can take time, love."

"To have a baby, you have to try for a baby. Okay, just forget it, Mum."

"I see. She isn't, and you want to, or she wants to, and you don't?"

"Mum, forget it. There is nothing wrong with me, okay? She just, well, isn't in the mood these days."

"Perhaps I will go round in the week and pop in, see how she is."

"Don't, Mum, as I said, there are some things a mum can't fix."

"Oh fiddlesticks, so my boy isn't getting his nuptials; I am assuming that you manually relieve the pressure."

"What? Mum, really."

"Oh, good grief, Mikhael, we are both adults here. If you are not masturbating, then you are risking being moody, and that won't help if Svetlana is tetchy."

"If I try to do that, she moans at me and tells me I am being disgusting, that I should control my animal urges."

"Oh, I see. Well, you'll just have to do it when she won't notice."

"Mum, for God's sake, anyway, she is home all the time. She would know."

"Well, you're here now; go to the bathroom and do it. Release the pressure."

"What?" I was staggered that Mum would even suggest that, what, stand in her bathroom and wank, knowing Mum was listening? I couldn't, my God.

"Oh, don't be silly. How different is it from going to the loo? It isn't; it's the same bit of your body."

"It isn't the same thing at all, Mum, and you know it." I was feeling very strange. I was kind of turned on by the thought that I had a semi-building, and if it grew any more, then it would become all too obvious.

"Well, do you want me to do it for you?"

"Fuck's sake, Mum." Really? The thought of Mum handling my dick actually scared me; it didn't scare my dick, though. It went from semi to fully hard in about half a second, my trousers tenting, and I shuffled in my seat.

"Well, it is a simple thing."

"Physically it may be, although Svetlana always struggled, but mentally? No, I couldn't; it is just wrong."

"Struggled?" Mum asked, "How do you mean struggled?"

"Mum, do we have to talk about this?" I was really feeling both really uncomfortable and, at the same time, I was just so utterly turned on.

"Yes, Mikhael, we do. You are my son, and things are not right now. How did she struggle?"

"She got exhausted, Mum. Alright, I didn't finish quickly enough for her. Okay? Can we drop it, please?"

"Ha, lasting a long time is preferable to sticking it in and finishing; well, that was always my experience. We women don't really get to finish properly with a quickie; most of my boyfriends before your dad were quick finishers. Luckily your father wasn't."

"Mum, too much information, Mum, God." I sat back on the sofa, forgetting my hard-on, and as I leant back, my tenting trousers were even more obvious, and, of course, Mum noticed.

"Look, you have an issue; it is obvious," she said, pointing at my lap. "If you don't want to go to the bathroom and do it, then do it here. I'll watch; that might help. I watch your dad."

I could not believe my mum; I mean really, these are private matters, not shared in normal families. I just sat and said nothing.

Mum got up and sat next to me on the sofa and put her hand on my bulge. I couldn't help it. I groaned, a sexual groan. My dick was chomping at the bit; my brain was trying to tell it to go soft, but my dick didn't usually take any notice of my brain -- this was no exception.

Mum squeezed my dick. "There is seemingly nothing wrong, just lack of completion," Mum said as she started to tug at my zip, "and we can easily resolve that. I shall help you, I cannot have my boy struggling, and if he won't do it himself, then I shall have to."

My zipper was down; she pulled my fly open, and my dick pushed up through the hole in my boxers. I was mortified yet highly turned on. Mum put her hand on my shaft and squeezed. I groaned again and closed my eyes; the feelings were almost overpowering, and Mum began to move her hand up and down.

The pleasures were radiating from my dick, coursing through my body, and I knew I was groaning as Mum wanked my dick. She slowed down and stopped.

"Let's get these clothes off," she said, pulling at my trousers and underpants. "We don't want a mess on your clothes, do we?"

Before I knew it, I was sitting, bollock naked on Mum's settee. God, I just hoped Dad didn't come home. Mum spit on her hand and then wiped her hand over the end of my dick. The feelings were even more intense at home; if I got the chance, I used to use some aftersun that moisturised and worked really well. I guess Mum doesn't keep aftersun in her lounge.

Mum gripped and slowly pushed my foreskin down, my glans popping out, and Mum rubbed it with her moistened hand. I almost came there and then; the sensations went all through my dick and made my balls twitch. Mum began to move; faster she went, squeezing my dick as her hand flew up and down. Pleasures were streaming through my body; this was way better than when I did it myself. It felt different, almost hotter; I don't think I had ever been harder.

"That's it, baby," Mum said softly as she wanked my dick. "You can cum for me; show me your stuff."

I was close. Oh God, I was close; I could feel my balls twitching, but still my ejaculation held itself at bay. Mum used her other hand and cupped my balls, a finger straying back along my perineum. I gasped, I jerked, and my orgasm erupted, spurt after spurt after spurt, before Mum slowed and I collapsed back into the settee.

I opened my eyes; Mum was licking her hand clean. God, that nearly made me hard again. "Let me get a cloth, baby," she said and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard a tap run, and then Mum came back with a warm cloth and wiped and cleaned my dick.

"You can get dressed again now, Mikhael," she said as she left to take the cloth back to the kitchen. I was just finishing getting dressed when Mum came back and sat opposite me once more.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it? And I think your lasting time is excellent; there is nothing wrong with my boy. I assume that you feel better?"

Well, I did, but my dick was already sporting a semi; God knows why.

"Yes, Mum, thank you, it seems that was just what I needed. I suppose I ought to get going and see if Svetlana needs a hand with anything."

We embraced, and I left Mum. I wondered if she would shag Dad when he got back from golf, lucky Dad.

Svetlana was in a better mood when I got home; she kissed back when I kissed her.

"How was your Mum?" She asked.

"Oh, same as ever," I lied. "She missed seeing you and said she might pop around and see you in the week for coffee if that is okay."

"Yes, fine."

The weekend continued, Svetlana seeming more responsive to my overtures, and when bedtime came, after cleaning my teeth and washing, I was sporting a fully recovered hard dick, and she didn't moan at me. I slipped into bed and put my arms around her, my dick prodding into her stomach as we kissed.

"Do you want to try again, Mik?" She asked, "Is it the right time if you do?"

Was I ever going to turn down a shag from my wife? Hell no, right time or not.

"Yes, baby, I do want to."

Svetlana got on her hands and knees; a woman's magazine that she had read said that this position was the best when attempting to conceive. Svetlana wasn't one for foreplay when she was in conception mode; she was afraid I would get too excited and spill my seed in the wrong place.

I knelt between her legs and looked down at her buttocks with her fanny showing in between. Taking a lesson from Mum, I spit on my hand and rubbed the end of my dick, I lined up, and I gently pushed.

Svetlana sighed, a sigh of pleasure. "Yes, Mik," she said as I began to shag her. As I looked down and watched my dick sawing in and out of her fanny, my mind wandered, and I wondered what it would have been like to shag my mum. I don't even know what her fanny looks like; I didn't even see her knickers. She just sorted me out, and that was that.

I did hope that it turned her on a little and that when Dad got home, she would need to service that need, but of course, I had no way of knowing. I began moving faster and faster, my dick pressing deep inside Svetlana's fanny, my pubis slapping against Svetlana's buttocks, and her gasps as I bottomed out reverberating around our bedroom. My mind imagined I was shagging my mum, that the fanny I was filling was hers, and that I was looking down on her buttocks and not my wife's.

I was gasping too, my dick getting a second workout, my balls tightening, my balls were swinging below, and Svetlana reached under herself and gently squeezed my balls. "Come on, darling, fill me with your seeds," she gasped as my dick pummelled her depth, her petals waxing and waning around my dick as it filled and voided her fanny. I felt a little pain in my root, and I gasped loudly and pushed in hard, not moving as my spunk spurted into her fanny. I almost cried out 'Mum' but managed to stifle it to 'Mmmm'.

I held still for a few moments to give my spunk a chance to start swimming in the right direction, and then as I pulled back, my softening dick fell out of her fanny with a gurgle.

"Thank you, baby," Svetlana said as I rolled and lay down beside her. At least I had managed to shag my wife; not such a bad day.

The rest of the week wasn't quite as good; Svetlana wasn't interested, nor would she contemplate wanking me. "It's not my time," she said. "You need to hang onto your baby makers."

Nothing I said helped. She told me one evening that my mum had been around for coffee, but when I asked her what they spoke about, she just said, "Oh, stuff, nothing interesting," and would say no more.

Saturday morning came all too slowly, with no happy times at home, no rows, but no sex. "Do you want to come with me to Mum's?" I asked.

"Would you mind if I didn't?" She asked, "Only I want to change the bedding and then get it out on the line to dry.

"Okay, sweetie," I said, "I'll be back by lunchtime."

She pecked my cheeks, and I left, pulling up on Mum's drive not too long later.

"Your dad's gone to a golf tournament," she said as I walked in, "he won't be home until early evening."

"Oh, okay, well Svetlana is expecting me back for lunch."

"And how are things at home?" She asked.

"The same mum, just the same."

"Oh dear, what shall we do?"

Well now, what shall we do? That was the million-dollar question, the same as last week perhaps, or more?

"I don't know what to do about it, Mum; she just won't play ball."

"Play with your balls, you mean." She said with a laugh.

"Mum," I just struggled to cope with Mum's freedom of expression; she just seemed incapable of understanding my embarrassment.

"Well, if she won't, would you like me to again?"

"God, Mum, I thought that was a one-off; I didn't come round here for my Mum to wank me off."

"Why not? Just a perfectly natural bodily function, and now we have done it. Well, there should be no hang-ups, really."

"I suppose not, Mum," I said, wondering what would happen next.

"Well, come on then," she said, heading to the stairs.

I followed, and we went up into my parent's bedroom, the sanctum that I used to hear sex noises from when I lived at home, their bedroom door always firmly shut. I never got a chance to see anything; all I could do was listen and get hard, wanking into a sock as Mum and Dad shagged the other side of my bedroom wall.

The covers on the bed were pulled back, and Mum turned to me. "Well, if you are expected for lunch, we better get started. Get your clothes off; you can put them on your father's chair. The bed will be more comfortable. Than sitting twisted on the sofa."

Obviously, I had wondered all week if I would get a repeat treatment but resolved to not push it or even hint; if it happened, it happened. I stripped, my back to Mum, as I pulled my trousers and boxers down, and when I turned back to face her, she was in her underwear, and her dress was on her chair.

Her bra and knickers were almost see-through; I could see the bulge of her nipples, and I could see the top of her crease showing through. "I don't want to get a mess on my dress," she said.

"Oh God, Mum," I said as my dick twitched and jerked as I looked at her, my mind trying to mentally photoshop away her underwear. I moved to the bed and lay down, my hard dick pointing back across my pubis up at my face. My glans was just peeking through the end of my foreskin, which had pulled back as my dick grew as it hardened.

Mum knelt on the bed, her backside by my face, and she took hold of my dick, pushing my foreskin down. With her other hand she reached across to her bedside table and picked up a bottle of something, flipped the lid and poured it across my dick. "Just baby oil, sweetheart; it helps with the friction."

She began to move her hands, and I realised I needed to get some baby oil; the sensation was incredible.

"Mum," I said as I stared at the bulge of her fanny through her knickers.

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Can I touch you? I mean, you are touching me; only it would help stop it from feeling so, I don't know, detached."

She stopped wanking my dick and turned to look at me.

"Really?" she asked.

"Please, Mum, yes."

She got off the bed and took her bra off and then her knickers. For the first time since I was a child, I was looking at my mother in all her glory. Her breasts were drooping a little, her nipples were large and looked hard, she had a small bulge above her mons, and she was shaved. That surprised me.

Her fanny crease was lowish with her petals going down underneath, her inner petals poked out a little, and her nubbin was hidden inside a dimple at the top of her crease. All in all, she had one hell of a sexy body.

Mum got back on the bed and knelt again, again her fanny by my face. As she gripped my dick again, I reached up and gently touched her fanny. She flinched and then gripped my dick harder, squeezing as if trying to squeeze my spunk out. I slowly stroked my finger along her valley, easing between her petals and then down to her hole.

As my finger began circling her entrance, slipping in slightly, Mum began to softly moan. I wasn't sure if she would let my fingers push inside. I had nothing to lose. I added a second finger and began a more earnest circling, pushing my fingers inside, one knuckle, then two, and then all the way, fucking her fanny with my fingers. Mum gasped as I pressed all the way inside her.

Her fanny was hot, and she was squeezing my fingers with her fanny-walls. Her sphincter was flexing, almost winking. I wondered if she would allow me to explore there. I doubted it, but then I hadn't expected her to shave her fanny.

Mum was moving her hand quite quickly, squeezing and relaxing as she did. I leant up and blew on her fanny and then licked with the tip of my tongue. Mum gasped loudly and stopped wanking me; had I gone too far, I was devastated.

What she did next took me completely by surprise; she moved her one leg so that she was straddling me, she hovered over my dick and lowered herself, my dick disappearing inside her fanny, and I gulped, and then I groaned my appreciation. Looking down across my stomach, I could see her arse flexing and her fanny lips around the base of my dick, which was buried in her fanny.

I pushed up, trying to fuck Mum. Mum rocked back, and my dick pushed in as deep as it could, and then she rolled forward, her fanny rising on my dick, her petals wrapped around my shaft. I reached forwards and ran a fingernail from her fourchette along her perineum and pressed gently at her sphincter.

"Oh God," Mum gasped, her hand throwing back the bottle of baby oil. I took the bottle and squeezed, pointing the nozzle at her arse. A small stream of oil squirted and lubricated my finger and her arse. I made a circle with my finger and then pushed; there was a moment of resistance, and then my finger pushed inside.

Through her bowel wall I could feel my dick sliding inside her fanny, I could hear Mum panting, and I could feel my balls tightening. My foreskin was sliding inside Mum, covering and uncovering my glans. Mum's fanny walls were pressing hard on my dick, and as she moved, Mum reached down and held my balls, squeezing them to the point of pain, one hand supporting her weight, the other holding my balls, my dick fucking her fanny, a finger fucking her arse, our gasps and gulps echoing around her bedroom.

She began to move faster, rocking back and forth, my dick sliding inside her, my finger pressing in and out of her arse, my balls throbbing, and then she seemed to throw herself backwards and shrieked, her fanny clamped to my dick, her sphincter squeezed at my finger, and she squirted.