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Each and every character in this story is a figment of my vivid imagination. Each and every character involved in sexual situations is over 18 years of age. I hope you are not easily offended by sex between members of the same family. If you are, consider yourself warned. If you are reading this as the Arts critic for the New York Times, you might be disappointed.
My name is Paul Warren. I am nearly 22 years old, and a senior in college, majoring in Theater, at the University of Washington. One of the requirements to get my degree is to write a play, and get it on stage for at least one show.
As long as I can remember, I have been interested in live theater. My mother, Amy, has just retired from teaching high school English for the last 30 years. At 53 years of age, she still is a huge fan of the theater, and is now and always has been my biggest fan. My father, Edwin, never saw any of my high school plays, as he was always working. 60 to 70 hours every week that I could recall. Just possibly the cause of his fatal, massive heart attack three weeks after my high school graduation, at the age of 56.
Don’t get the wrong idea, he was a decent man, a loving husband in his own way, but everything in his life came second to his very successful sales job. My school teacher mother made up for what he lacked in his attitude toward what I was trying to accomplish.
I could never be mistaken for the school jock. Even at 6’2″ and a slim 170, sports just weren’t in my playbook. I did have a fairly normal dating life in high school, but rarely got past second base, not to mention the two times getting to third. None of my dates at any time let me round the bases, and score the winning run. Yes I was a virgin.
Quite a few of my fellow students thought just because I wanted to be an actor, or screenwriter, I was gay. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Truth be told, I had the best 3 point shot in our entire school, but drama class conflicted with basketball. I was content in Gym class to win every free throw contest, along with nearly every 3 point contest. I digress from my story.
Each of my first three years of college, I would act in 1 or 2 plays each year. I tried staying away from musicals because my singing voice sucked.
On to my senior year. What sort of play would I write. Comedy? Nope, too many already in the works. Musical? Note my editorial comment on my voice.
I came up with what I thought to be a unique subject matter. I started writing a play where a college student falls for an older lady. It happens more than you think. As I would work on scene after scene, my English Teacher mother would ask how everything was progressing, and if I needed any help. As I finished parts of scenes, I would let her read and critique each part as I finished. She would make a few suggestions, here and there, and I was on track to finish by the end of my first Quarter. I was hoping to cast my play and finish rehearsals by the second quarter and have it on stage by the middle of my final quarter.
I have to admit the advice mom gave me truly made the play stronger. Never once during my writing, and her proof reading did my subject matter ever cause any problems. Again, mom was and is my biggest fan.
Let me interject, here. Never in my nearly 22 years of life have I ever had sexual thoughts about my mother. Don’t get me wrong, while not being Hollywood gorgeous, mom is a very attractive woman. Standing close to 5’10” and still on the slim side, with C cup breasts, and a radiant smile that lights up any room she enters.
Finishing my play, with over 2 weeks before the end of the quarter, mom quietly asked me if we could do a run through, with her reading the part of the older woman I fall for. I thought for a moment or two, then decided, why not? While I was giving her request some thought, she told me the language she would have to read wasn’t a problem. After all, a play set in the 1960’s had to be realistic, with the four letter words, and all.
On our bahis firmaları first run through, I nearly forgot that the person I was reading with was my mother. The story line, really was a simple one. College kid sees his neighbor with a woman who isn’t his wife. He debates telling the wife. When he finally decides to tell her, they develop a relationship. Fairly standard stuff, but I have to admit, mom’s reading made the character of Debbie Jones come to life.
After two or three readings, mom asked me if I found somebody to play Mrs Jones. “Not yet,” I told her, knowing I had several weeks to find my co star. I still didn’t think of using mom, as there are two love scenes that require some very sexy interaction.
Seeing my difficulty in finding a co star, after our third reading, mom looks me in the eye, and says, “why don’t we do a full rehearsal?”
“Are you saying what I think you are?” I asked, in total shock.
Sitting across from me, in our usual night attire, she in her robe and slippers, and me in sweats, she stands up, takes her robe off, showing the only thing she has on, except a smile, is a pair of plain white cotton panties.
“Not bad for an old broad, don’t you think, Paul?” she stated.
“Christ, mom, are you suggesting what I think you are?”
Nodding her head, she tells me, “lets give it one try, just to see.”
“You can’t use one of your fellow students to play a 50 year old, can you?” I couldn’t dispute her logic. Shit, she is my mother!
“Paul, you are staring at these old, saggy boobs?” she added. Gulp! Caught.
I caught myself before saying something really stupid like “for your age and their size they look great, to me!” They truly did.
Taking a few deep breaths, I had to agree with mom’s reasoning. She went back to her bedroom, and came back wearing a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. The first things I noticed were her nipples pushing at the fabric of her shirt. Was she excited? Was our living room too cold? Yes and no.
I changed into a pair of shorts and a polo shirt.
I glance at my script and we start. I’m Jay, mom is Debbie. I tell her what I have seen. Her husband with another woman, and they seemed to be very good friends. Mom was very convincing as the cheated on wife and moved into my arms for some consoling.
Just hugging her, I could feel her breasts against my chest. Nearing the end of the first scene, the first moment of truth arrived. Jay is supposed to kiss Debbie full on the lips. Mom leans into me, raises her face to mine and kisses me very tenderly. I respond, holding the back of her head and returning the kiss just tenderly. Holding our kiss for a few more minutes, mom stops, breathes deeply, saying very nice, for a start.
I did notice her nipples poking almost through the light material of her shirt. She noticed the growing bulge in my shorts, but didn’t say anything except, “let’s take a break.”
I moved to the easy chair to gather my thoughts. Instead of mom going to the couch, she sits right on my lap, and lays her head on my shoulder.
“That was very nice, Paul,” she said. I nodded in full agreement, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour. What will I do, if in the next far sexier scene, I get hard?
Mom, with her radar on high, says “you thinking about our next scene?” I just shook my head, yes.
“Paul, I have to ask you, are you still a virgin?” I just nodded in the affirmative. “Are you worried because of that besides me being your mother?” Again, I nodded.
Without saying another word, mom takes my face in both hands and kisses me, very hard, forcing her tongue into my mouth. My tongue did the same. While still in our kiss, she moves her hands to my polo shirt and starts to lift it off of me. Breaking our kiss, both shirts were discarded, and we quickly moved to our couch. Kissing and rubbing each other, without saying a word. Her soft breasts in my hands. Her hand caressing my balls. Then moving up and down my shaft.
I whisper to her that kaçak iddaa I am already very close. No sooner than those words come out of my mouth, than I start shooting ribbons of cum all over mom’s chest. “Oh, my”, she says, taking my cock in her hand and slowly licking the entire length. I use my shirt to clean her boobs, as she mounts my rigid member. Riding me, very slow at first, as I take her boobs in each hand, she picks up the pace, and leans into another smoldering kiss.
With my limited knowledge, I gladly let her take the lead. All I know is that I am making love to the co star of my play. Let me be clear. We are not fucking, we are making love. I feel her body shaking, more than a few times, as I continue my hips thrusting upward. After more body shaking from mom, I let loose another torrent of hot cum. Collapsing on top of me, all mom says in a very quiet voice is “WOW.”
“I think I need a break before scene two,” she says with a mile wide smile. After each of us cleaning up, we went back to the couch and pretended to read scene two.
“Mom,” I started, “Shush, for a moment,” she replied.
Sitting in silence, mom starts. “Yes, Paul I know what I did was wrong. Neither of us is more at fault than the other. Finally, neither of us can say we didn’t enjoy the sex.” I couldn’t agree more with everything she said.
After another few moments of awkward silence, mom gets up and sits right next to me, taking both my hands in hers. Looking me straight in my eyes, she says, “even without your play, I have been thinking about something like this for months. With dad gone, I have been very lonely. I have had two of my fellow teachers try to date me, but each had several things wrong.”
“One, the kid was barely 30 but looked 16. The other, was a lady just about my age. You see my dilemma?” I just nodded.
I thought for a moment, before saying, “if we do this play together, I can’t keep calling you mom.”
Nodding in agreement, mom says, “you have to get used to calling me Amy, and I will use my maiden name, Barnes.”
Mom looks down at my crotch, and gives me a mock look of horror, asking, “are you hard again?” Kneeling at my feet, she runs both hands inside the leg openings of my shorts, taking my sex in one hand and my balls in the other. Pulling my shorts down, she takes my cock and gives the head a very sensuous kiss. Licking all around the head just as if she is working on an ice cream cone.
I rest my hands on the back of her head, as she slowly bobs up and down. Inch by inch, my cock finds its way into her mouth. I’m in heaven. At the 5 or 6 inch mark she moves back up to the head. Back down, driving me absolutely wild. Finally, all 7 inches are inside her very warm mouth, all the while her tongue is moving all around my hard manhood.
“Mom,” I moan. “MOM, I’m cum…” too late, as blast after blast of hot sticky goo shoots into the back of her throat. Taking the pile of tissues that were next to her, she deposits my deposit into them, not wanting to swallow.
Giving me just the slightest hint of a smile, “remember, I’m Amy!”
Moving back onto my lap, she laid her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. I think I was asleep before she was.
After about 45 minutes, or so, I felt her move. I opened my eyes to see her staring back at me. You want to practice the next scene, she asked. I responded by saying I thought we just did. All I heard was mom, oops, Amy telling me not to be a smart ass.
We actually did practice, twice, keeping some of our clothes on, and finding ways to disguise my raging hard on.
The following Monday, I introduce my class to Amy Barnes, a neighbor, who has agreed to be my co star in my play. I guess I am lucky to be the spitting image of my dad.
When asked the name of my play, I explained that I wanted to call it, Me and Mrs Jones, but my play is supposed to take place in the 60’s and Billy Paul didn’t release that song until 1973, so I had to find another name. I decided on When A Man Loves kaçak bahis A Woman, released by Percy Sledge in 1966 and covered by Michael Bolton in the late 90’s.
After a very convincing rehearsal, our instructor complemented us on our realistic love scenes. My blushing cheeks could have lit up the entire theater.
Just as Amy and I were leaving, Ms Olson, our teacher comes over and asks for a minute of our time. Out of earshot of the rest of our class, she whispers, hello, Mrs Warren, you were my English teacher 20 some years ago. Busted! Before either of us could respond, she tells us our secret is safe with her, and now she knows why our chemistry works so well.
Now, all we had to do us perform in front of a crowd of about 200 people, in just over a week.
Our nightly rehearsals were sometimes dressed. Sometimes partially dressed. But the two times we did it in the nude, we wound up fucking like minks. Yes, our lovemaking gave way to pure raw sex. Amy on top. Me on top. Standing, with me fucking Amy from behind. Mom might have been a top notch English Teacher, but her teaching me all about sex couldn’t be topped.
The Saturday night performance of When A Man Loves A Woman was a sellout. I guess word had been spread about this hot couple doing a great job with my writing. We were very convincing in the first scene, making out, and feeling each other up. Yes, I had Amy’s bra off, and the crowd showed their approval, as the first scene ended.
Back stage mom jumped into my arms, saying how proud of me she was. I told her the best thing I did was picking her as my co star.
The second scene, were we were both left wearing just our undies. I found my boxer briefs helped hide my obvious excitement, but still giving the crowd a very good view of my tented undies. At least the audience was back far enough they couldn’t see moms wet panties. We couldn’t get into our robes fast enough, before going back on stage.
The next few weeks passed with me being swamped at school, and mom keeping busy doing her volunteer work.
We agreed that our sexual attraction should move into the background. I began talking with one of the girls at school, not in the theater school, but who I had known since high school, who happened to have been at our play. A few days after our performance, she catches up with me on campus, tells me how much she enjoyed my play, and quietly asks if that was my mother as my co star. Before I could answer she tells me she was dripping wet watching me making out and feeling up my mom.
I couldn’t stop grinning. My grinning continued when I was repeating this to mom.
Sitting me down, mom asks if I remember her telling me about a lady wanting to date her. Yes, I remember. Well, we have met for lunch a couple of times. and mom found out this lady, Wendy Robinson, mother to another of my high school classmates, saw our play. She also knew how we were related.
I ask mom what stage their relationship is in. She tells me its just beginning, as they realize they have much in common.
I tell mom that its none of my business, but has she ever had sex with another woman?
She tells me, no, but has had many thoughts about that very thing.
I tell her that I am ecstatic with the possibility of her in a lasting relationship. She tells me the same with me, and Andrea Moore.
As my graduation was nearing, I actually received several job offers from local acting companies, plus a documentary company has asked to see some of my writing.
As my employment opportunities were expanding, so was my love life. Andi and I were becoming an item, as were my mother and Wendy. The four of us actually met for dinner several times and got along nicely.
The biggest change after graduation was Andi and I getting our own apartment. We were getting serious, but nowhere near marraige serious.
Mom told us that Wendy was moving in with her, which made me extremely happy.
Thinking about my two person play, I’m still not sure who benefitted more, mom or me. I learned a great deal about sex and relationships, and mom got her itch scratched. So what if the scratcher was her son. Not the first time in history, and certainly not the last.
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