Tuesday, June 4, 1974
“Would you masturbate for me?”
My first reaction was disbelief: Did I just hear what I thought I heard? From a total stranger no less?
Then came embarrassment, humiliation, even shame. My face was on fire. Right in front of my mom, too. She was sitting just to my right on the sofa. The lady sat facing us in a wingback armchair.
I opened my mouth to reply, but what? “I beg your pardon,” I managed at last, in a half-choked voice. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’m sure you do Martin. You’re perfectly familiar with masturbation, from what your mother tells me.”
I sat there in stunned silence, while she just sat and looked at me with a pleasant smile. Then she broke into laughter. “You should see your face; such a lovely shade of red! And such a pretty face, too. You’d make a gorgeous girl, Martin. Did you ever think of that?”
I hoped that was a rhetorical question. I mean I knew the answer, but that’s not something you discussed with other people. Neither was masturbation, but here we were.
“Interesting question, isn’t it? The masturbation one I mean. First of all, it has great shock value. Do you like the sensation of embarrassment? No? It can be fun sometimes, don’t you think? Oh, I’ll bet you could learn to enjoy it, in the right circumstances—especially given your… personal tendencies.”
My what? My heart was pounding, whether from fear of what she would say next—or from the thrill of the sheer impropriety of it all—who knows? Both, of course. No doubt that was the point.
“And it means many things at once. What I need to know most, at this point, is whether I suit your taste. Am sort of woman you’d think about while playing with yourself? In short, are you attracted to me? Sexually?”
Oh, that was a no-brainer. I had been fantasizing about her non-stop from the moment Mom opened the front door. She was petite and slender but with a prodigious rack, which strained against the silky lavender fabric of her blouse. She had left an astonishing number of buttons undone, putting her Grand Canyon of cleavage on display. If she had been wearing a bra, it would have shown in the gap. But the twin peaks which jutted audaciously outward removed all doubt.
She was fifty if she was a day. And math had never been my strong suit, but at sixteen-and-a-quarter, that made her a shade over three times my age. She wore her hair up, in a bouffant bun which was downright matronly. Her raven locks shimmered with sparkles of silver. And that face: no question it had been stunning in her prime, but like a fine wine, the years had only deepened the complexity of her magnificence.
“Um… I have to admit… Yes, I am, in fact, Mrs. Cole. And as to the question of whether I would… you know… do that thing…” I looked at Mom, I looked at the lady. I couldn’t believe this was happening. “That would also be a yes.”
“That’s the right answer, obviously. Not that I had any doubt. Anyone could plainly see the bulge in your crotch. And it would be ‘Miss,’ not ‘Mrs.’ Definitely not that ridiculous ‘Ms.’ But you are to call me Felicity. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Felicity.” The music of her voice was enough to enthral me on its own, a siren song I felt incapable of refusing. Then there was the mystery of her accent: at first blush British, and of a privileged class, but coloured with Continental overtones as well. Felicity Cole had Femme Fatale written all over her. But why was she here in my parents’ living room?
As if reading my thoughts, she began to fill me in on her details. “Let me tell you a bit about myself, I am fifty-two years old, and I was born in the Netherlands, although my mother was English, and my father was originally from Belgium. I trust our age difference is not a turn-off for you? No. Quite the contrary, yes, it makes things all the hotter? Mmm. Yes, for me too, young man. You see, I am sexually attracted to you as well. Does that please you?”
All I could do was nod, and just barely keep myself from drooling.
“I am here by virtue of being, as the Romans would put it, an amica familiae. Do you know what that means?”
I had taken Latin. “A friend of the family?”
“Yes, that’s right. More specifically, a female friend. I’ve known Caroline and your father for several years, though Anne Raleigh and I go way back. She was Anne Danby at the time, before she and Duke were married.”
“You knew her in Brazil?”
“Precisely. I understand you are in love with one of their daughters, the oldest: Sylvia.”
I hung my head. “Well, yes, not that I have the slightest hope there. She’s way out of my league, and besides, she’s put me squarely in her friend zone.”
“And yet you’ve felt like you were destined to be with her.”
“That’s a good way of putting it, yes.”
“We felt that way, too, honey,” said my mother. “The Raleighs and your father and I, we’ve been such close friends for so long. We all liked to think maybe you and Sylvia were just made for each other.”
“Well, apparently Sylvia is the one person who doesn’t see it that way.”
“You’re right about one thing,” Felicity continued. “Sylvia is out of your league, but so what? I don’t know what man or boy could truly be a match for her. So, I take it you and Sylvia have never fucked?”
“We’ve never even kissed. And besides, I’ve never…”
“Had sexual intercourse? No? So you’re a virgin? That’s all right. No bad habits to unlearn that way. What about oral? No? Even with other boys? No? What about with hands? Nobody?”
“Just myself.”
“All right. As for that, I understand you do have a healthy masturbation life. Two or three times a day, Caroline tells me.”
“What the… Mom, how do you…”
“Honey, you go to your bedroom and shut the door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you’re up to. You should have your privacy, certainly, but it’s not like it’s a deep, dark secret.”
“Do you masturbate for Sylvia?” Felicity asked.
By now I was getting used to talking more openly. “Yes, I do. More than anybody else.”
“Though I’m going to guess someone else you must fantasize about—Sylvia’s mother, Anne?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“And you masturbate for her?”
“Frequently.” I was starting to enjoy this conversation.
“No surprise. The mother is so much like the daughter, just a more mature version. Anne is a great beauty. You know she was Miss São Paulo back in the day?”
“I knew there was something like that, yes.”
“And she was first runner-up for Miss Brazil.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, and she would have won, too, only she wasn’t really Brazilian.”
“Yeah, her father was an ambassador or something.”
“A consular official, yes.”
“So, you knew her way back then?”
“No, but a couple of years later. Our paths crossed up in the Amazon, but that’s another story.”
Felicity paused and looked across at me with a smile. “I’m going to venture to guess one more sexy woman you have sexual feelings for. Whom you honour with your cum.”
“Okay, I’m not sure who you mean.”
Felicity held her left hand out, gesturing in my mother’s direction.
“Me?” replied Mom. “I know we talked about that sort of thing, Felicity. In theory…”
“I told you it was natural and normal, almost instinctive. So, what about it, Martin? How often do you masturbate for your mother?”
“Oh, hardly ever. That is to say once in a while, sure. Not every single day, anyway.”
“So, Caroline is one of your biggest fantasies,” concluded Felicity.
“Basically, yeah. Sorry about that, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Mom said, putting her hand on my knee. “It makes me happy to think of you thinking of me with such… passion.”
“That’s the Oedipus reaction, a regular step in a young man’s sexual development. If you’re like most guys at your age, you really wish you could fuck your mother.”
“So, it’s perfectly natural,” I asked, “those kind of feelings.”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t you like to tell your mom how you feel about her?”
“Okay. Mom, um, I love you and everything, but, you know, yeah, I really wish I could fuck you.”
“That’s good, Martin. Especially as Caroline is such an incredibly sexy woman. There’s no way to avoid the inevitable. Listen, the dick wants what the dick wants. That whole ‘incest’ thing is such a flimsy, artificial barrier. It means nothing when the gonads get fired up. Mother-son romances are far more common than people let on. Because it’s so often reciprocal. It’s right about now, when a boy is sixteen. Don’t you find Martin sexy, Caroline!”
“Well, of course! He’s so tall, and he’s handsome… I know he’s a sexy young man.”
“So, you’re saying you might be sexually attracted to your son as well.”
“I mean, I’m also a woman… when you see a beautiful man…”
“Maybe you’ve masturbated for him a few times as well,” said Felicity.
“Oh, we’re not here to talk about me…,” said Mom, dodging the question.
“So you see, Martin. That’s where I come in. Right about this age, when in the natural course of events mother and son would start copulating. Civilization has invented a workaround, the amica familiae, “the friend of the family.”
Basically, she’s the young man’s sex tutor. Always a mature woman, the parents’ age or older. The parents ask a mature woman whom they trust with the care of their son. Actually, it’s the mother’s choice finally. The amica serves as a kind of surrogate mother—to carry out the sexual relationship in her stead.”
“As much as you and Caroline would enjoy becoming lovers, it’s probably best that you wouldn’t get her pregnant.”
Mom and I looked at each other. “Yeah, that would be weird.”
“Well, you’re not going to get me pregnant; that’s for sure,” said Felicity with a smile.
“So, that means, the plan would be, you and I….”
“We’d be lovers, yes. Provided there was mutual intention. The young man necessarily has to have appropriate lust for the tutor. The Amica doesn’t absolutely need to have reciprocal sexual desires, but ideally, she would. And of course, as I told you, I am quite attracted to you sexually, Martin.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening. To me. God, I hope I don’t suddenly wake up and find this was all a dream. So, how does it all work, you and me?”
“At some point, I’d have to deflower you, of course.”
“Oh, of course. Should we do that right now?”
Felicity laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darling. In any case, your mother must formally ask me, and only then would I become your official amica. But that brings us back to my very first question.”
“It does?”
“Yes, Martin. The question was ‘Would you masturbate for me?’ Ultimately, I’m not looking for information. I mean it as a request. In other words, I want to see you masturbate. Please, give me a demonstration.”
“A demonstration?”
“That’s right. Masturbate for me. Right here. Right now. Both Carolyn and I will be watching. And I mean masturbate for me—make me the object of your lust. This is your audition, so to speak. Any questions, my dear?
“I just unzip and pull it out? Right here in the living room?”
“No, dear, I don’t wish you to pull out your penis. I want you totally nude. But yes, right here in the living room, and right now, if you wouldn’t mind.”
My god, that was a dream come true! Once or twice I had managed to expose myself to my mother—accidentally on purpose—but never in the style I dreamed of. And now the stakes were double, thanks to the gorgeous newcomer. Only, I didn’t want to appear as eager as I was to be unclothed in public.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before. Sweetheart,” quipped my mother. “You were born naked, you know.”
“Born to be naked, perhaps,” said Felicity, as I wriggled out of my shirt. “Looking good so far.”
I threw off my shoes and pulled off my socks. I unbuckled and unzipped and dropped my slacks. I stood a moment, for effect, in my briefs. The bulge was flagrant, and I savoured the moment of my female admirers’ anticipation.
I made my little act a striptease, turning my back to exit my remove the final item. I kicked my underwear away, and I was utterly nude at last, giving Mom and Felicity a full view of my butt. Until I turned around. That was my moment of glory. My pride and joy was open and bare for the two women to gaze at. And I’m sure I had never been harder in all my life.
Two little gasps—absolute music to my ears.
“Caroline, you didn’t tell me….”
“I’ve only had a few little glimpses myself—in not the best lighting.”
Was something wrong, I wondered? I wanted my naked cock to get the love, and by their faces, I could tell it was being duly appreciated. But there was something more. Something unexpected.
“My, what a big boy you are, Martin!” said Mom.
“The better to fuck you with, my dear,” said Felicity. “Any idea how long you are, young man?”
“You mean my dick? Some kind of average, I guess.”
“I wish!” Muttered Mom.
“No, honey, what you have there is not an average specimen. I’m not saying it’s time to call the Guinness people, but you’ve definitely won the genetic lottery.”
Mom seemed to agree. “Can I cook, or can’t I?”
“Already Tony is a wonder to behold, but I think Martin has maybe an inch on him.”
I wondered how Felicity was so familiar with the details of my father’s private parts. Though the answer was obvious. Friend of the family, indeed!
“Shall we measure him? Good thing I thought to bring a tape measure.” Felicity produced a small coil from a kit and passed it to my mother.
“You know how to do it, right? Press in at the pubic bone?”
“Me?”
Felicity laughed. “Don’t tell me you aren’t dying to touch it. Remember, I’m not his amica yet.”
Mom unrolled the tape measure and kneeled down in front of me to do the deed. “This isn’t going to hurt a bit,” she said with a smirk.
I looked down at my lovely kneeling mother, her face—her mouth—right at my cock level and tried not to get ideas. “That’s what they all say.”
Her fingers touched me, and I gasped with pleasure.
“You’re welcome,” she said, as she pressed down one end and stretched the tape along my shaft and up to the top of my glans.
“Wow!” she said. “Come look at this, Felicity. I get ten-and-one-eighth fucking inches! Do you agree?”
Felicity came in for a closer look. What a moment!
“Yes, I’d say that’s it. I know one thing for sure, Martin. Sylvia’s never seen your cock, has she?”
“Um, no. As I said, we’ve never…”
“Because, my dear, you’d never be in any woman’s ‘just friends’ zone with a cock like that. Friends-with-benefits, at the very least. I think we can offer you some hope with your destined lover after all. Of course, you also have to know how to use it.”
“But you can teach me that.”
“Oh, that I can, my boy. That I can. Well, you’re right to be an exhibitionist. You possess a thing of beauty which simply has to be shared. Noblesse oblige!”
“Exhibitionist?” I protested. “How could you… I mean, what makes you say that about me?”
Felicity and Mom glanced at each other. Could they know more than they were letting on?
Felicity laughed. “Your cock is telling me, in more ways than one, how much it loves being out in the open. Anyway, when I called you an exhibitionist, you experienced a surge of gratification I could feel across the room. But I have something of a gift for reading erotic energy fields. Do you know your particular gifts? One is delightfully plain to see. Another is what I like to call ‘nudist by nature.’ Others we will discover as we go along, I have no doubt.”
“You take after father in that way, too,” said Mom. “Me, I’m more on the voyeur side.”
“I can testify to that,” Felicity said., though you must admit you have your fair share of exhibitionist bona fides. I dare say you’re in for some interesting surprises, Martin, particularly concerning your mother.”
“Let me say I’m enjoying being a voyeur at this precise moment,” added Mom. “The view from here is spectacular.”
“Think of the potential,” said Felicity. “Exhibitionist son, voyeur mother. I’d call that a win-win scenario, if there ever was one.”
She sat back down in her armchair.
“But enough of that. It’s time for your command performance: masturbation as a spectator sport. Are you ready?”
“I need to go up and get some…”
“Lubrication? I have a little something here I think you’ll like. And a few other necessities.”
She handed me a clear tube and a box of wipes. I was ready.
“How do you want me? Standing? Sitting?”
“Oh, I do want you to be comfortable. Sitting, I should think. Perhaps on your mother’s lap.”
“Or here between my legs,” said Mom, spreading her thighs and flattening her skirt to make a place for me.
“That’s perfect! See how you like it, Martin.”
I sat myself in the space. It was snug, but all I needed. Mom wrapped her arms around me and caressed my bare chest. She fondled my nipples, such a tender motherly touch, and arousing at the same time.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,”
She murmured into my ear. Then she kissed it, plunged the tip of her tongue deep inside. God, it felt incredible!
I turned my head, and my face could just meet hers. “I love you, Mom.” What I felt at that moment—something so right: in equal parts, filial love for her as my mother—mixed with wanton lust for her as a fucking hot woman.
She planted a little kiss on my lips. Then I kissed her back, just a peck. We looked into each other’s eyes. We pressed our lips together, lingering in the enjoyment…
