Night Rider


Dad was letting my mother down – his age was showing and along with an inability to progress; he was sinking into middle-aged mire. Mum, on the other hand was far from over-the-hill and when circumstances brought us together, we did all we could to cure the problem!

I wouldn’t usually think to cuckold Dad, but Mum had needs and I was there…


I really wanted to curl up and die.

For fuck’s sake – I’d found my dream girl, we’d married and rented a super little house, we’d settled down and for the best part of five years we’d been here – and now it was all falling apart.

My wife had begun to become increasingly nasty towards me for some reason although it took me several months before it really sank in; before I understood that it wasn’t just a case of PMT or something; that she was serious.

She’d started to pick at me; to ignore household tasks; to come home from work when she chose to and I just knew that something was going on but I did my best to ignore her angry words and deeds and to let time do the soothing. I’d done nothing to upset her to the best of my knowledge but she was obviously trying to pick a fight, to stir things up.

And so it all came to a head one day when I finally retaliated and told her what I thought of her actions and deeds – and then she bit back at me hard – and then slammed out amid an ear rattling yelling and banging of doors.

When she returned later that evening she simply told me that she was leaving and that nothing I could do or say would change her mind.

But to be honest, right at that moment I had no intention of saying much – the idea of her leaving actually felt good right then. The peace while she’d been gone had been delicious, while the tension beforehand had been such that it actually felt great to know that our marriage was over and that the rowing would be gone.

All I could do was to mutter “Good riddance” as I left her to her packing and went off down to the pub.

A few hours later and I returned, to find the place silent and empty. Not empty of our possessions but empty of life – a cold and lonely place and I knew that I was on my own from now on.

The following day I phoned my parents to explain and Mum made all the right noises, sympathetic loving sounds and words to calm me, followed by an invitation to pop over for dinner and a chat that evening. I accepted with alacrity, knowing that Mum’s cooking was top class and that otherwise I’d be dining alone on some insipid frozen dinner.

Mum welcomed me with floury hands and a kiss on the cheek, while Dad handed me a tumbler of scotch and ice as we met.

“Hard luck, old fella,” he said as he patted me on the back and led me to the armchairs by the fire, “These things happen.”

“Yeah but why me?” I groaned, “What did I do to deserve that? We used to get on so well and then it all kind of went wrong all around me…”

“I’ll tell you what Chris,” said Dad, “In my opinion it’s because you’re too easy going. You should have put your foot down a long time ago, put yourself in charge, know what I mean. Sometimes it pays to keep the little lady under your control.”

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact so I merely went “hmmmmmm” as I vaguely agreed with Dad and we sat there gently cogitating.

That was until suddenly someone slapped me sharply on the back of my head.

“Aaaahh!” I cried as I spun around, and there was Mum, her hands now clean and on her hips.

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” she said firmly, her mouth set and her eyes glittering, “He’s all mouth and no action!”

I couldn’t help chuckling quietly at Mum’s words and because Dad was now visibly reddened with embarrassment, leaving me feeling as if I was in the middle of an argument.

“Well, you two seem to have managed fine the way you are,” I said, attempting to defuse any verbal fights, “You’re still together after what, thirty years?”

“That’s all down to the fact that I’ve kind of got used to him and his silly ways,” said Mum, her hand now gently soothing the patch of my skull she’s whacked, “If I’d let him rule the roost we’d never have got anything done. On the other hand perhaps he’d be the boss now at work if he’d followed his own advice.”

She looked scornfully at Dad who cringed and buried his face in his scotch, the subject of his stalled business career apparently a sore point between them.

“Ummmm, dinner smells good,” I said partially to divert the conversation and partially because delicious scents were now filling the air, “Have I got time for another drink?”

“Just about – dinner’ll be about twenty minutes, darling,” said Mum, “I’ll join you – come and pour us one each Chris.”

I levered myself from the armchair and smiled self-consciously at Dad who managed a small smile back, then I headed to the kitchen.

It was a biggish room and as I did the drinks on one side of the room, on the other side mother was doing her best witchy impression, busily muttering to herself and stirring tuzla escort pots amid clouds of steam and other vapours.

The delicious scents were stronger here and I carried Mum’s glass of wine to her where she worked, my nose working overtime.

“Mmmmm, thank you darling,” she breathed as I put it down on the worktop beside the cooker, “Is your Dad still in his chair?”

I stretched my neck to look around the door frame and from where I stood I could still see the back of Dad’s head in the armchair.

“Yeah, he’s happy with his scotch,” I replied, “Why?”

“Oh, it just seemed a good time to tell you,” Mum said as she sipped something from a wooden spoon, “Your Dad’s got to do some shift work; they’re making him work at night.”

“Cooo, he won’t like that,” I responded, a throaty chuckle rising, “Anyway, I thought he was in change?”

Mum laughed, sharply and even acidly.

“Hah – as if!” she snapped, “He’s no more in change of his work than he is of me.”

She drained half her glass in one go.

“Like I said, if he was only half the man he says he is he might have found a better job by now,” Mum continued, warming to her task and then she added, almost ruefully, “And if he was a stronger man at home I might have been nicer to him as well…”

The subject matter was curiously fascinating and yet it also spoke of unrest; not a line I wanted to enlarge upon considering my own problems, but somehow I wanted to keep talking – partially because I was curious and partially because I just plain like to chat with my Mum.

“That all sounds a bit personal,” I said, “Perhaps you shouldn’t be telling me this, Mum.”

“You’re family,” said Mum, “So you’re entitled to know but I wouldn’t have said a word about it to most people.”

“It’s up to you what you tell me,” I replied nonchalantly, “It won’t go any further anyway.”

“Ohhh, it’s just that he’s such a damn wimp sometimes,” said Mum, sighing then emptying her glass, “I often think it would be wonderful to have a real man – I do sometimes wish he’d get off his soapbox and stop talking. Like I said before, he’s all talk and no action – all mouth and trousers; know what I mean.”

And then the matter was dropped as Dad appeared in the doorway, his nose crinkling.

“Must be nearly ready,” he said, “Do you need a hand?”

“No – go and sit down, it’s all under control and Chris is helping,” said Mum firmly, “Be on the table in a few moments.”

Soon we were tucking into an excellent roast dinner; Scottish beef with all the trimmings, deliciously tender and full of flavour. Silence fell over us as we ate until subdued clatterings and burps spoke of downed tools and full bellies.

“Wonderful,” said Dad as he wiped his mouth, “Absolutely wonderful.”

“The condemned man ate a hearty meal!” I quipped, eliciting quick glances from both Mum and Dad.

“So your mother told you did she?” said Dad while Mum looked a bit embarrassed and I felt myself reddening too.

“Yeah, umm, no big deal,” I said, brushing it off, “It’ll make a change for you.”

Dad however was considerably and properly irritated so I filled the void.

“When do you start?” I continued, “Monday night?”

“Yes he does; ten o’clock shift,” answered Mum waving Dad to silence; then she brightened suddenly; “Are you still writing dear?”

“You know I am Mum,” I answered, “Doing alright too. Why?”

“You could be so useful especially now you’ve got no-one at home to worry about – you could pop over and keep me company for a bit, until I get used to the new arrangement, couldn’t you?” she said.

“Guess so…” I said, looking pointedly at Dad but he merely shook his head sadly.

“Don’t know why you need him to keep you company,” he mumbled, “You’ll be asleep.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” answered Mum firmly, “I’ll need to change my rhythm to match yours won’t I, but while you’ll have work to keep you awake I’ll have nothing, so Chris can help.”

“Yeah fine, if you say so,” muttered Dad, well and truly overruled.

And so it was arranged that we’d all change our routines. It mattered little when I slept or wrote and perhaps I’d find new and different inspirations at night and with Mum to talk to and be with; maybe she too would provide some input and stimulus.

Monday was a strange day as I tried to get some unwanted sleep in preparation for a long night awake but by the time ten o’clock came around I felt reasonably fresh and ready to face a night with my mother. I chuckled at the way the words fitted inappropriately together.

But inside me, something else was confusing me…

Dad was obviously too soft in his ways, too easy-going to achieve anything at work…and yet Mum seemed to object to the idea of him being ‘in change’ at home – she obviously wanted to rule the roost. Or was it that she really needed a stronger man? Was it that Dad was so limp that even if he’d become firmer with her she wouldn’t have accepted it from him? That even if he’d been harder and more successful tuzla escort bayan at work, she wouldn’t have enjoyed his control at home.

It was a conundrum that I couldn’t resolve in my mind…

Perhaps unsurprisingly Mum was in her dressing gown as she met me, warmly hugging me against her before letting me in.

“You are a darling, I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said, “Gosh – it’s going to change things a bit, all this nighttime activity!”

I wasn’t expecting much activity at all to be honest, all I wanted was to be able to keep my mother company while having quite a lot of peace in which to do some more writing but I also knew that I was here because Mum was going to be lonely on her own, so I needed to ‘look after’ her, at least to begin with. It was all going to be strange – just the two of us with no plans and no particular reason to even communicate – but we’d manage…

“So – what do you fancy doing?” began Mum as she settled herself into her armchair, “It’s going to be quite hard to find something to do all night, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, umm, yeah, guess so,” I mumbled, my eyes dropping to my lap as I spoke.

Because down there, for reasons unknown, my cock was beginning to stretch out; to push at the boundaries of his enclosure…

Shit – it was that time of night when I’d probably have had sex with my wife or perhaps even just rubbed one out while in the shower – no wonder my cock had risen. Innocently I waved my hands around before letting them fall onto my lap to cover my arousal while wondering firstly whether or not Mum had noticed and secondly, whether my routine habits had caused my cock to awaken or if was it something else.

It was only when I looked back at Mum that I even had an inkling of an idea as to the cause of my arousal – Mum’s legs were bare and were slightly parted as she sat back and somehow the light was causing the length of inner thigh she was displaying to glow warmly. It wasn’t an overtly crude display, it was almost certainly unintentional but it was more than I usually saw of her legs. I felt my tongue wetting my lips as I glanced down and then back up to Mum’s face.

Thank heavens she looked entirely innocent and oblivious of my arousal and I quickly found myself calming once more as I considered what we could do.

“What about Scrabble?” I asked, “Or cards – something easy…?”

“Could do, or something more energetic perhaps,” Mum replied, her legs moving apart a bit more as she settled herself more comfortably, “Or we could just talk…you make the decision…”

Down inside my jeans I felt an additional tightening as my penis stiffened a little more and I wriggled around to ease the pressure while my mind frantically tried to make a decision. I ignored the probably unintended suggestion of some energetic action.

“Scrabble, I think,” I said firmly, “That’ll keep us thinking, that’ll keep our brains working and keep us awake.”

“Ok, that’s a good idea,” said Mum, “I’ll get the set.”

And as she rose from her chair she leaned forward and something happened that changed the world. Her towelling belt slid loose and her dressing gown slipped open and suddenly, if only for a few moments, there was my mother’s body just feet from my eyes and clad only in pure white underwear. The quick view was indeed brief but it was quite long enough to show me that Mum certainly hadn’t let her body go, that her breasts were still good and plump; that her knickers were remarkably skimpy and that she obviously at least partially shaved!

“Oh ooops!” said Mum as she sat back down again, quickly pulling her dressing gown tightly around her and tying the belt, “Oh I’m so sorry darling – didn’t mean to flash you!”

“Not a problem Mum,” I said, “It happens…,” my easy words belying my agony – because my penis had stiffened into an iron bar in seconds.

She rose again, crossed the room and came back with the Scrabble set which she placed on the coffee table nearby and then for long moments we just sat there and I found myself looking at Mum’s face – which was glowing brightly. I frowned as I wondered as to the cause, attributing it to her exposure – but I was wrong.

And now Mum seemed to have regained her composure and she chuckled quietly.

“That’s a sight I haven’t seen much of for a while,” she said, “And I don’t remember you being that big when I last saw you either!”

She looked at me, a wicked smile on her face – and suddenly she grabbed at her dressing gown and flung the material aside, before wrapping it around herself once more.

And this time I knew that Mum knew and I also knew that my eyes and my mouth both opened wide as her intentional flash burnt into my brain.

“Uuuuhhh,” I grunted as I felt a spasm of delight make my whole abdomen shudder, “Stop it Mum, stop it, you silly thing!”

But Mum was suddenly well and truly awake and alert and seemed intent on stirring me up too.

She edged forward until she was seated on the edge of her chair, her face just perhaps four escort tuzla feet from mine.

“So I turn you on, do I?” she asked playfully, “I’ve got more reaction from you than I’ve had from your Dad in many a long year. And a bigger reaction too, I think!”

Mum was wriggling her body around under her gown – her generous breasts seemed to be swaying from side to side, holding my attention as a cobra’s sinuous movements might.

I was lost for words; overcome almost by this turn of events.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked, her lips curling, “Don’t say you’re like your Dad!”

And then I realised something – that Mum was frustrated; that Dad was a first rate wimp who was nowadays incapable of responding to Mum’s wiles and enthusiasm…and that I was being offered something that no son should be offered. Mum was almost asking me to react; almost demanding me to respond – but could I actually do it? Could I commit incest with my Mother?

Well, I guess that if I just pulled her to me and kissed her then that wasn’t incest, was it. I was safe there…

Moments later and I stood up; my hands reached out and grasping Mum by the tops of her arms as I pulled her upwards and clutched her to me.

“Yesssssss,” she hissed as my arms enfolded her.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned as I kissed her upturned lips.

“Ooooohhh,” she breathed as we kissed, as her lips sought mine and her probing tongue pierced my mouth.

Somehow the kiss went on and on and just as I was thinking that I ought to pull away I felt Mum twisting her arms out of my embrace. The next moment she was attacking my t-shirt, imploring me to remove it!

“Take it off darling,” she moaned as her hands tugged my t-shirt upwards, “Hurry – it’s in the way.”

Responding as quickly as I could under the circumstances I helped her pull it over my head and instantly her arms were around me again, her lips locking onto mine once more.

Inside me though, everything was aquiver – butterflies were rampant and my brain was scrambled, while my legs trembled and my heart thumped quickly as my situation became clear, as I realised that this was just the first stage of my seduction.

Then Mum was moving again, less vigorously this time and then I felt the warm smoothness of her torso pressing against mine.

“Ooooh yesssss,” she breathed between kisses, “That’s better already!”

But her bra scratched gently against my chest, the roughness of the material grabbing my attention while her breasts moved languidly as she breathed. Then Mum was moving again.

“Hang on darling, let me take it off,” she said, her breathing quicker now, “Keep still.”

With a quick twisting and squirming there was a sudden sliding of material and then more soft warmth as my mother’s firm yet soft breasts squashed against my chest.

“Oooh Mum,” I moaned, “Stop it – don’t, you’ll get me all worked up.”

Quite honestly it was far too late to object; already I was thoroughly roused, already my cock was as hard as it could get; already I was eagerly letting her get sexy with me!

But as I said that, Mum pushed me away, hard.

“Oh what?” she said harshly as she now stood there, her bare breasts heaving, her lips wet and luscious, “Oh for heaven’s sake – you are, aren’t you? You’re just like your Dad, aren’t you.”

In that moment I definitely realised what the problem was – Mum wanted someone to dominate her, to take control – and Dad just hadn’t been able to do so.

But could I do it? We’d come this far but could I continue, could I make Mum have sex with me – could I really truly let her have sex with her?

I gritted my teeth as I realised my situation. If I did as I should and told Mum to get dressed I’d be in trouble – and if I fucked her I’d be in even more trouble!

But down in my trousers one part of me was urging me onwards – my cock had no concerns – all it wanted was a nice warm hole to sink into. With a deeply drawn breath I gave in.

“No way!” I exclaimed, “No way am I a wimp.”

Quickly I bent down and just scooped Mum up into my arms. Instantly her own arms wrapped around my neck and her lips found my cheek. Quickly, or as quickly as I could given that I was carrying her, I marched down the hall to the main bedroom, bumping open the door with my arm then lowering my mother onto the bed.

“Yesssss,” she hissed as I spread her dressing gown wide, “Oooh darling, what do you think you’re doing? Who said you could…? Who gave you permission?”

She was panting hard as she spoke but her eyes sparkled and smiled and her tongue kept wetting her lips.

As fast as I could I undid my jeans and dropped them, the long pole of my erection clearly stretching my boxers, then, after a moment of indecision, I pushed them down too, to stand naked beside the bed, my throbbing penis betraying my need.

But I needn’t have worried; Mum was very obviously loving what she was seeing and her eyes glowed with as much excitement as my cock did.

With another delicious wriggle Mum divested herself of her gown and now her arms were raised, her fingers imploring me to approach, urging me to explore.

Seconds later and I was on the bed too, on my knees between my Mum’s wide-spread legs with only one thin layer of silk between us.

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