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390 THE ENLIGHTENMENT OF TOBY TRIM
Frankly, he was bored, 18, not the most hansom of lads, though fit and capable he was shy, his name Toby, and living with his mother and father in a cottage on a farm on the Sussex, Kent border, he hadn’t get a lot of chance to break out of the sexual drought that he had been “enjoying “ since school broke-up for the summer!
He wasn’t a virgin in the true sense of the word, as he had struck lucky when a sixth form girl named Anne had thrown a dart at a list of the lads in the class, the bet between the gang of girls, being that Anne being such a young self-confessed whore, could seduce any one of the boys in the class into shagging her within 24 hours of being set the task! Hence, he was selected, all unbeknown to him, by her mate throwing a dart, blindfold, at the list of class pupils.
In getting him to screw her she had easily succeeded with time to spare, though she had expected some resistance to her ‘charm offensive…’ but he being sex starved, and not being the most hansom or forthcoming, and so very shy… he had jumped at the chance, he had been like putty in her hands, eagerly under her instruction and flattered beyond reason he had had her, behind the boiler house, against the ash trap wall. It had been hurried and a scrappy shag, for which she never even undressed, for him memorable, not least made worse when the other girls had appeared, to verify the bet, and had egged him on to a red faced finish… for her it was just a means to an end, all the girls walking away afterwards, having no further use for him, or his by now deflated dick. Since then he had found himself back in limbo as he had before the bet, using his hand, and his imagination to help fill his day.
He was waiting to join the navy now, a life`s ambition. Temporarily, Beryl, his mum had arranged him a job with her, just to fill in, starting the following week or as soon as the strawberry harvest was fully ready, but till then, he was at a “loose end” dripping round the house and watching ‘the box,’ not that there was ever that much on during the day. Dad [Cyril] was a self-employed tractor driver, contract ploughing and the like, when the weather was right, it was dawn to dusk in dry weather and it had been good for a while now, it was the busy season, he would come home, late and well knackered, he would eat and after a shower sleep till that bloody alarm had him up once more with to Beryl`s disgust just a sexy kiss before vanishing with his flask and sandwiches once more! Though she did understand… but it was frustrating to say the least!
His mother was a tallish woman, sandy haired, not perhaps the most beautiful, or the most eye catching, being a pound or two over-weight, but in Toby`s eyes she was, in his not inconsiderable imagination and frequent fantasies, his No1, front and centre when it came to being his sex goddess. Her slightly sagging but still to Toby, very exciting, breasts, her big heart shaped arse, and that always covered fanny, none of which he had never even glimpsed, all adding to her almost mystical allure.
It was on the Tuesday, Beryl`s bread making day, perspiring in the hot kitchen, pounding the dough hard, having removed the thin blouse because of the heat, with her breasts held in her old grey workaday bra, stretched to its limit, shaking back and forth most attractively, when Toby came in from walking the old dog. His eyes quickly fixed on her breasts, jiggling in the thin bra, distracting him yet again. He sat himself in the old wing chair beside the big old combo stove that heated their water and acted as an oven too, it was hot, but it offered him the best view of those lovely breasts.
“Good walk?” he didn’t reply, mesmerised as he was by her sweating jiggling body, she tried again, “oy… I asked you a question!” then realising where his eyes were fixed, she blushed, then asked “what`s the matter with you today, you`ve seen a woman`s breasts before haven’t you?” he looked up blushing to his hair roots, blustering then not realising what he was admitting, he said in a serious voice, “Well no actually, not in the flesh, just in magazines, but never in reality…!” it was a confession that he instantly regretted, but that would prove to be a turning point in his life.
Her jaw sagged, and she stopped her beating of the dough, to stare at him in amazement. “You mean to tell me at 18, you`re still a virgin and have never had or seen a real naked girl in your life?” he smiled wanly… in for a penny he thought, what the hell, I might as well tell her the truth; “more or less, I`ve not even danced with one, touched one or seen one naked…I was screwed by a lass behind the boiler-house at school once, she did it for a bet but even she didn`t undress or let me do more than poke it into her so she could win her bet!” his blushes exceeded their previous colour, and he couldn’t hold her eye contact. Her exclamation of “Bloody hell,” amazed him. He instantly knew she had had no idea of his lifestyle! “No smelly fingers, no kisses behind the bike sheds…nothing?” she asked, remembering her own youth. Hesitantly he replied, “No mum nothing like that, I`m not super-stud, or Adonis, I`m just ugly and weedy old me, shy and nervy in the company of girls, and being the target of that bet she had, had didn’t help my morale at all, it just made my frustrations worse…!” She repeated “Bloody hell,” under her breath adding “you poor sod!”
She went back to kneading the dough, a thoughtful look on her face as she tried to do the job without too much shaking of her top. It was altogether too hot in that kitchen, he arose and fetched two cold juices from the fridge, as she covered the bread and left it as he knew she would, to prove, both repairing to the garden under the umbrella over the old garden seat. They drank in silence, glad of the shade, knowing Cyril, her Cyril, he would be sweltering in his tractor cab, wherever he was working, plodding up and down the fields like an automaton in a dust cloud.
“What are you going to do about your lack of experience, when you get in the navy you`ll feel a right prat?” She asked, direct as ever. he said “he had no idea, but suspected it would have to be a port doxy, paying for his pleasures, and risking a dose…!” she went quiet again, then confided “I had expected that you had learnt from your piers as I had learnt at school!” with a thin smile he explained that “most of his mates had, but he being so shy, had not even got started, though he had desperately wanted to ease his burden.” She looked sad as he said that, and he went on “like all the boys I know, I had learnt how to wank, by about the time I was ten, or eleven and that was it, for me, just fantasy and fingers, from then on!” He said, I wish that I could converse with girls as easy as I can talk with you…but I never could!”
She, muttered “I never knew” then told him she had assumed it would have been the same for her son! Telling him of the school she had attended, and how, it being a mixed school, as k**s they had ‘explored one another on their way home, mostly in Taylor`s old barn!” she explained ‘you show me yours,’ being a favourite game, but there were others, doctors and nurses, being another favourite!
He looked at her quizzically, “you mean Dad wasn’t your first?” he looked at her with fresh eyes, as she said, “well no, not by a long chalk really, but he was my first lover, just not my fist shagger!” Beryl always called a spade a spade, he desperately wished he had inherited her abrupt and forth-right manner. but instead he found he had become more like his dad, a loner. It was his turn to exclaim “Bloody Hell!” which he did, then apologised for his outburst! She grinned, saying “she had heard worse…”
They sat for a while longer, then she said, “I don’t want you screwing some Pompey whore and risking clap or worse, If it would help, I wouldn`t mind showing you, but not a word ever to your dad mind, it would break his heart…” he sat bolt upright, unable to believe his ears… “If your serious mum, I won`t ever say a word I promise, I`ve imagined you time and again, but never expected…” he tailed off as she regarded him seriously, “do you mean to tell me, all that stuff I have washed out of your pants and PJ`s all these years, was prompted by me, and my old fat body…!” he said with earnest sincerity “90% at least mum, the rest was Katherine Jenkins the singer you know I love, and Miss Timm`s our schoolteacher, when I was 14, though if you remember she left after that affair with the old head!”
His mother laughed, shaking her head, and saying she “had had no idea, but the bread dough will soon be ready, and you will have to wait a while, the bread must come first today…” he followed her into the house, glasses in hand. She did whatever she needed too, then placed the loaves, in the hot oven.
The glasses refilled they returned to their seats in the shade, then she said direct as ever, “look my lovely, I need to know what you know, about women, about having sex, and all its variations… and I would like to know about what you have imagined in your fantasies about me, if you can do that and it turns me on, we shall have to see…!”
He turned red once more, and realising his problem, she said “ look if it helps you, look at that old swing in the tree there, not at me and pretend you are here on your own, talking to yourself, I won`t say anything I will just sit here and listen, but be truthful, don’t hold back to save my blushes, I suspect your dad and I and the lads before him, have done most things your fetted young mind can dream up.. and some!”
He grinned then cast his eyes at the old swing, before saying that; “the biology teacher had told them the basics, so he knew the physical side, and here in the countryside it was all around, a****ls screwing to breed, but about women he in reality he knew little, he knew women bled, and why, and those periods caused snappy irritation at men, his dad keeping well out of the way at those times, but he had had no idea that women had sexual thoughts or feelings, that no one had ever mentioned that!”
She grinned but said nothing, obviously waiting for any revelation that he may utter. He went on, “ I saw a thing in a magazine, that I swapped, that had the lady getting spanked on her bum, so I know it can`t be get it all up inside and bang away, but that’s the only variation I`ve come across, though there could be more I ‘spose…
She could hardly contain her smile, turning away lest he saw her face, and glad he was staring at the swing, he had a lot to learn, and he needed to learn quickly!
Then, biting her lip, she asked about herself, “had he wanted to spank her then?”
“He said that he had, many, many times, he had wanted that, and to suckle on her lovely chest… and he had wanted to just have sex too, and too explore her, if she would let him, and…it had been his dream, time and again, wishing for her to ask him, as he didn’t think he would ever have the bottle to ask her himself… or even talk like this on that subject!” he turned to her and said in an earnest voice, “isn`t that terrible, I hope you`re not too disgusted with me!”
Beryl had heard enough, flattered in some ways, she turned to him and kissed him, kissed him in a way he had never experienced ever before, taking his hands in hers and placing them on her soft and pliant breasts, and then keeping his tongue busy for some minutes, silencing him while his fingers searched for and found the stiffening nipples he had dreamed off for so long. The smell wafting round them, as they sat entwined, she suddenly remembered the bread… it would soon be burnt! She thought ‘God the bread…!’ Suddenly, in a rush she stood and ran indoors, to her stove, checking the now scorching loaves, just in time to save the batch. Her nipples having stood out like hat pegs deflating, as the crusty and hot loaves were unceremoniously dragged from the oven and knocked from the tins.
Toby, meanwhile, sporting a stiffee to be proud of in his jeans, sat confused and bewildered, wondering was it his handling of her, or a sudden attack of conscience that had caused her abrupt departure!
It took a time to deal with the whole batch, as she only baked once a week, by the time she returned both her nipples and the lads cock had deflated, and he looked a bit crestfallen but she took her seat once more and said “sorry about that…the bread…”
It became instantly clear, he had forgotten the bread, he was relieved, especially as she again kissed him as she had before, his hands this time not needing guidance to find her nipples, which sprang up like crops in springtime. Her hand dropped to his lap and found the stiffening tool that she known well till he was perhaps tennish, then a thin carrot like thing, but he had grown phenomenally since, probably by over-use of his hand. She smiled, then said perhaps they should go inside, as she didn’t want any passing farm hands in the area spying on them.
They arose and entered the house, Beryl leading him by his hand, through the hot kitchen, and on upstairs and away from the heat, he noted not into the marital bed, or even his own modest room but, into the big double spare that she used for the Bed and Breakfast trade, a side-line that mother was known for, mostly with bird watchers that frequented the local woodlands at weekends.
Once in the room she kissed him again, pulling him to her in a standing embrace that had him instantly erect once more. She held him from her and said; “Look son, today you can treat me like a lover, a girlfriend, not your mum, but as a woman, and, as in reality, we only have about four days to, in which to, well, make up for lost time and, educate you about women and how to be with them, we may have just enough time, but one hint to your dad and your dead meat and so will my marriage be, and you won`t want that will you? …got it…? His nod and floods of promises, confirmed his previous promise.
She reached behind her for the clasp of her bra, then rapidly had second thoughts and with a smile said “No, you can do it yourself lad, you need to learn…” he needed no second bidding, his hands flew round her to the clasp, arms around her body and fingers eagerly finding his first set of bra hooks. He fumbled for a second or two then felt the two ends part, easing the straps from her shoulders, his eyes fixed on hers till the garment slid from her arms and the cups fell from the long awaited, long dreamed of breasts of this his fantasy woman. The flimsy bra finally fell from his grasp, his eyes boring into the soft orbs like lasers, unable to comprehend his luck, or the risk of her marriage that he knew his mother was taking for him.
Outside a blackbird sang, cows in the byre mooed, and sheep bleated as the world carried on its life, but here, here in this pretty bedroom, time stood still for long seconds as he came to terms with this vision.
They stood Beryl overcome with her sons obvious amazement at what to her was …well… just tits! To her it was a compliment of the highest order, this worship of her body, the body her Cyril took for granted these days, this lad of hers obviously worshipped her, and this was her chance to help him in a way that was practical and could prove to be fun.
Toby was mesmerised, stood unable to move either hand or body, eyes like organ stops, gazing intensely at these sacred orbs he had coveted since puberty. Beryl`s voice cut through his long and silent appraisal, “Oy” reluctantly, he dragged his eyes to hers, “it`s -no bloody good standing dumbstruck, it’s no bloody wonder girls don’t want to know you if that’s your reaction…” his reply of “errm” and his bemused look, prompted her to add, a little more gently, “Look…. Oh bugger it, its your first time, I can see that for myself, your dad will be home in about four hours, and I shall need to get his meal ready well before then so I will spell it out for you, YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TOUCH ME …AND TODAY WOULD BE NICE, got it?”
He grinned, “sorry I was a bit overcome, they have been my fantasy this last eight years, and they blew me away, they are everything I ever dreamed of and more, your beautiful mum, and you have been out of my reach so long, I was gob-smacked!” Overcome by the sincerity of his compliment she hauled him too her and silently kissed him, tears forming as she did so.
His hands rose to the soft orbs, gently oh so gently he fondled the things, handling them like fine porcelain, finding again those stiff nipples he had felt outside for that brief moment. It was like all his birthdays at once, the softness and the stiffness contrasting so perfectly, he knelt, his head opposite the nubs he had so desired all this time, his gaze never leaving her nipples as he asked, “may I?” she answered “please, oh please,” and without ado he rapidly latched himself on to her right nipple like an eager limpet, her head thrown back, now her face a study of shear enjoyment as the nipple enjoyed his tongue, rasping against the stiff nub and its surrounding nerve ends.
He sucked and gently chewed on her like some giant c***d. Her memories of him as a baby flooded back, her love of him suckling her, of Cyril, her possessive but loving husband, intently and jealously watching his own son using his wife`s breast, all those years ago, what would he say now, her grown son in that position once more… a pang of conscience hit her, but the feelings of guilt were swept away by this euphoria of physical feelings, for the first time in many a long month, it was not a case of necessity, or wifely duty, it was a case of love, of a lovers automaticall and instinctive enjoyment of her charms, a reminder that she was a woman, not just a wife.
Long moments past, with no slackening of the lads pace, his hands on her back at her shoulder blades, holding her too him, as if to say…mine… at last… and I`m not letting you go… Smiling she pushed him away, saying, “steady, they will get sore if you overdo it…” in reply he silently transferred himself to the other nipple, loving the feelings, enjoying the experience, his world now centred on these attributes he had worshipped for so very long. For some time, she allowed him to suckle her, enjoying his enthusiasm, bearing his clumsy unaccustomed mouth, his teeth occasionally catching her as he rolled that pink teet around his tongue, then finally, pushing him away again and kissing him once more.
She whispered, “take off your clothes, its my turn to see…” he was a little surprised but stood to do her bidding, the shirt was soon lying at their feet, the socks joining it, then with a sigh of resignation down went the jeans and his pants in one, his stiff prick springing up freely and his face reddening as he stepped from them. She kissed him again, her eyes never having left his, afraid perhaps of embarrassing the lad if she had reacted poorly on seeing his appendage. Instead she slid her hand to his hip then slid it to the root of his manhood, her eyes on feeling the errection, growing wide, seven and a half inches of an errection thicker than a baby`s wrist caused her to glance down involuntarily. Her son whom she had bought clothes for and she had known as a slight framed tall and wiry lad had, she found as her eyes came to rest on the thing, a prick to be proud of, and she could see he had balls like a prize bull, she knelt and this time it was her mouth that eagerly enclosed him.
It was all too much for Toby, sensuously overloaded, his prick bouncing as her tongue slathered on it, the sensation just too much and, to his deep embarrassment, pumping his seed, in not inconsiderable quantities into his mothers mouth. He attempted to withdraw, thinking she would be offended, but her hands on his hips restrained him, not allowing him to retreat till the last jet was safely collected and tidily swallowed. His jaw fell, his mum, his fantasy, this goddess, had not only taken him into her mouth, and she had swallowed his outpourings and apparently relished the whole act.
She grinned up at him, saying, “that was fantastic,” and that, “she hadn’t done that in a long, long time!” explain that “your dads not keen, says it’s a waste… though I`ve always loved it, it`s called a blow job by the way.” She stood once more and kissed him, her lips and tongue tasting a little strange now, though not as unpleasant as he had expected.
On Baking days, and days when she may only meet the post-woman, she did not wear stockings or tights round the house, just an old skirt, knickers, bra and blouse, her slippers normally sufficed, on wet days alternating with her wellies when feeding the fowl. Today was no exception, so topless by now she shed her old skirt, standing before him in just pink and smooth fitting knickers, her slight belly overhanging the waistband a tad, and her thighs a little broader than she would have liked. Turning and throwing the skirt onto a chair, exposed her not inconsiderable rump to his eager gaze.
She turned back his smile broad as he took in her whole body, no page three model but today, his perfect woman, sandy hair perfect despite the light flowering where she had pushed it back from her eyes when baking, setting off the magnificence of her body, a young lads dream, a vision he knew would never fade through out his lifetime. “Oh mum,” he took her into his arms and kissed her passionately, a kiss that was returned as only a mother and lover could.
She knew instinctively that unless she told him to make the next move, they would stand here forever, he was already stiff once again, in fact it had hardly subsided, she place his hands on her hips, then whispered softly that he was to “get on with it then as I want you now as much as you want me Toby, and in truth I have for a while in my imagination, but that was fantasy and today its real, I am yours son, so don’t waste time…”
His reaction was to kiss her then kneel once more as he slid that last garment down and off. Beryl stepped from the damp pink froth, shedding her battered slippers as she did, stepping back to stand for his eyes to take in what to her was a ‘gone to seed flabby old body,’ in its entirety. The triangle of sandy hair, half hidden now by the overhanging belly, and the hint of her sex, just a slot, a line under the hair, tucking itself into the gap between the fulsome thighs. It was to Toby, magnificent, his one tryst with the fickle Anne, a bald bodied smooth skinny girl, from the class, who fully clothed and with her blue knickers pulled to one side took his own then thin appendage into her dry and unwelcoming slot, just to allow her to win her bet, now paled into insignificance to this woman, a real woman, all be it no playgirl, but a real woman, and a woman sweaty from her domestic duties with all her womanly smells, solid and reliable, and now his, if only till his dad came home.
She moved away swinging her body onto the big old bed, beckoning him to her, to lay beside her and too explore her, his playful fingers tracing their way through her pubic hair, tickling their way to that all important slot, wet now from her excitement as she parted her legs allowing him to discover her womanly charms. To look properly at her, to find and savour with his fingertips, her lips, then the inner lips, and that wet hole, slippery with her love juice, waiting for him to return after all those years.
He moved till he towered over her hips, his fingers finding the tiny soft and pink prick hidden in its hood, his touch sending waves of deep pleasure to her brain and eliciting groans that indicated her joy. He bent and kissed her, there beneath the hood, and was overjoyed as her head went back and she began to moan. A feeling of power coursed through his brain, he and he alone was exciting a woman, sending her into ecstasy, controlling her waves of joy, and it was his mother, not some schoolgirl, nor some whore, but his own flesh and blood mother!
He sensed she was ready, though she had only promised to allow him to look, she knew resistance was futile, as he moved until he was between her legs, then lined himself up and slowly, oh so very slowly, he allowed his stiff prick to slither into her warm wet body. the feeling was beyond anything that he had ever imagined, soft warm and silky, the sheath encompassed his tool in a caress that was near indescribable. His mother unable to resist, squeezing her pelvic muscles round him, milking him as he began his sexual jig, regardless of any risk of pregnancy.
She urged him on, “harder, deeper, yesss oh yes, fantastic, oh yes, oh yes, oh, oh, go on… then at last with a great sigh as he shot his load deep into her, OH, GOD, I`M COMING…oh, oh, oh!
It was over, they lay conjoined, he limp in her arms, on her body, his lips glued to hers, as his tool, lost its stiffness, and words failed him
A long time passed, he having rolled to her side, the sounds of the countryside returning slowly to their consciousness, she slid from his sleepy clutches first, taking his hand, leading him to the shower, and together showering away the sweat of their sexual excitement, they knew today`s lessons were over, and they needed to wash away all the clues before fathers return, but they knew now that tomorrow would be irresistible.
The cool water restored them, in silence they dressed, conscious of what they had done, guiltily they tidied the bed, and returned to the heat of the kitchen.
The meal needed preparing, home would soon come father dusty dry and tired, they would eat drink and watch the box before bedtime, family normality, but they knew deep down, that tomorrow would be another day and that she having already risked pregnancy, must entice Cyril to full sex that very evening if only to cover herself!
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