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Dawn comes early in England in summer. It was broad daylight, and I was wide awake at 6am when I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, the front door close and a car pull out of the driveway.
I lay back in bed, luxuriating in the morning sun streaming through the window. The sky was pale blue and cloudless, promising another warm day. Lighter footsteps tripped down the hall and there was a soft knock on the door.
‘You awake, Martin?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘I’m going to make a cup of tea. Stay there and I’ll bring you one up.’
A few minutes later the handle turned, and my mother’s head appeared around the edge of the door.
‘Are you decent?’
I chuckled at the question. The previous evening, she had watched me masturbating, naked, while we watched “The Devil in Miss Jones”, together with my father.
‘I’m in bed, as instructed.’
She pushed open the door and walked in, carrying two mugs. With her mauve velour dressing gown tightly belted at the waist, unbrushed hair and makeup-free face, she looked a different woman to the one who had accompanied us to dinner at the “Greyhound”. Even so, the thought of what had happened afterwards was still fresh in my mind. I had dreamt about it most of the night and my cock was semi-hard with anticipation.
I sat up to the receive the mug she handed me. I was naked, but the sheet covered me from the waist down.
‘Shove over, so I can sit beside you.’
I shuffled my bottom aside to give her room to sit down on top of the sheet. She stretched her legs flat and sipped her tea.
‘Your father’s gone to golf. Early tee-off. He’ll be back for a late lunch. What are your plans for the day?’
‘Oh, I thought I’d laze around in bed until noon, then go to the pub for a couple of hours. An afternoon nap watching “Grandstand” on the telly. Back down the pub later.’
A sharp nudge in the ribs almost spilled my tea. ‘Very funny. You’re coming with me to Sainsburys this morning. It’ll be nice to have some strong arms to carry the shopping bags.’ She took a sip of her tea and her eyes roved over my naked torso. ‘Can’t you afford pajamas?’
‘I do have some, for mid-winter North Atlantic. Otherwise, I don’t bother.’
‘Me neither. If we’re away from home, I’ll pack a nightie in case of a fire, and we have to evacuate in a hurry. And I might tease your father by wearing one in the evening, but I always sleep in the nude.’
She swallowed another mouthful of tea and looked at me with narrowed eyes. ‘What about those panties? Have you …?’
Despite my semi-arousal, and the suggestive nature of the conversation, my face reddened.
‘Er, no. Not yet.’
‘My, my, such self-control,’ she laughed. ‘Are you going to let me watch?’
I froze, like a deer in a spotlight. The previous evening, with my inhibitions lowered by alcohol, and the excitement of watching Miss Jones as well as seeing my mother wearing only a scant pair of panties, I had masturbated in front of her. Now, in the sober light of morning, it felt so … unnatural.
‘You wouldn’t hesitate if it was a girlfriend sitting on your bed,’ she said. ‘So, what’s the difference?’
‘There’s a huge difference. You’re my mother.’ Confusion and shame mingled with the arousal. ‘I still don’t really understand what this is all about. Should we even be doing this?’
She slowly drank the rest of her tea and placed the empty mug on the bedside table.
‘Do you think this is wrong?’ she asked, finally.
‘Well, it doesn’t feel … right,’ I said, hesitantly.
She nodded. ‘I can understand why you would feel that way. But what is right? What one society regards as abnormal, another sees as quite natural. Many ancient societies believed that incestuous marriages were favoured by the Gods. In Egypt, Cleopatra married her own brother and the Pharoah sometimes masturbated publicly to ensure the annual Nile flood. In Indonesia, some people believe it’s good luck to have regular sex with someone other than your partner. Over the years, your father and I have seen many, many things that would be regarded as wrong, or even illegal, here. We’ve learned not to judge.’
She paused and gazed at me thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps we were wrong to let you watch us having sex. If what we do makes you uncomfortable, your father’s offer to help you find digs of your own still stands. But whatever you do, please don’t judge us until you’ve had more experience. Sex means many different things to many different people.’ Her face broke into a broad smile. ‘Anyway, you can’t be that innocent. You must have seen some strange things on your travels.’
I had, including … [Author’s note: I have redacted the next couple of paragraphs of the journal as Martin goes on to describe to his mother activities prohibited from mention on this website.]
‘Wow!’ My mother fanned her face as I finished. ‘That raises my temperature.’ She laughed. ‘Well then, none of this should shock you.’
‘I suppose not, Mum, but it still does, a bit. And there are things I don’t quite understand.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well … I do know ofise gelen gaziantep escort some couples enjoy … extra marital affairs.’
My mother’s smile widened at my choice of words.
‘And a junior officer once told me he was invited back to the home of an older couple. After they’d had a few drinks together, the husband went off to bed and left his wife alone with their guest. She seduced him on the couch. Good for him, but why get married if you’re going to let your wife or your husband have affairs.’
I was surprised to see my mother nodding, as if agreeing with me, but she said nothing. I ploughed on. ‘Dad said that he enjoys watching you have sex with other men. That’s the bit I really can’t get my head around.’
‘It’s a fair question, Martin. I hope you’re ready for the answer. Do you know what a libertine is?’
‘Someone without any morals?’
‘That’s your boarding school education talking. Your father and I have morals. We don’t steal or cheat at cards, and we’ve never murdered someone. But when it comes to sex, then as long as we’re not doing anyone any harm, we don’t see why we shouldn’t do whatever gives us — both of us — the most pleasure.’
She placed a hand on my arm, and I turned to see her lips curled into a devilish smile.
‘So, if it gives you pleasure and it gives me pleasure, and it’s not doing anyone any harm, why shouldn’t you let me watch you masturbate?’ She lifted the sheet slightly. ‘Go on, play with yourself under the sheet. Get yourself in the mood. While you do that, I’ll tell you what sort of a libertine I am.’
I slid my right hand under the sheet and reached for my cock. It grew under the touch of my fingers. My mother’s smile widened as she watched the movement under the sheet. Stretching out on the bed, she allowed the dressing gown to open far enough for me to see the upper swell of her breasts.
‘You never knew your grandmother,’ she said. ‘She died before you were born. I’ll tell you about her some other time. The people who raised me, whom I called Mum and Dad, were my uncle James, my mother’s brother, and his wife Carole. You knew them both as Nanny and Grandad. Nanny’s still alive, your grandad died while you were at boarding school. We took you to his funeral, remember?’
I nodded.
‘Well, they also had quite an unconventional marriage. My uncle was a civil servant in Westminster, but he was also a homosexual. In those days, that left him open to gossip and blackmail. To avoid them, he married Carole, a woman who had her own secrets to keep. She was a lesbian, but also took the occasional male lover. They each allowed the other space to indulge their private passions, neither embarrassed the other and they enjoyed what, on the face of it, looked a happy marriage. And it was. They provided a happy home, and I had a very happy childhood.
‘Carole, I’ll call her that for simplicity, also had a very enlightened attitude to sex. I was still a virgin when I turned eighteen. Not for want of interest, or lack of attention from boys of the wrong sort, but because Carole had already explained sex to me, including how to pleasure myself. Her attitude was, that, physically, virginity was meaningless. What was important for a girl’s first sexual experience was that it should be a pleasure, a liberation, an awakening. It shouldn’t be having her breasts groped in the back row of a cinema, her thighs pushed apart by a rough hand and her sex poked by a clumsy finger, nor rushed, painful, brief thrusting in the back seat of a car. What girl could enjoy sex after an initiation like that? No, Mum promised me better. And, once I’d decently turned eighteen, she delivered.’
My mother had been lying on her back as she narrated her story. Now she rolled onto her side, facing me and her gown opened further, exposing more of her breasts. She reached out and seized the sheet. ‘Are you ready for me to pull this down?’
My stomach lurched and my mouth went dry. I nodded.
Slowly, she peeled back the sheet to reveal my hand stroking my erection.
‘Very nice, Martin. I’m tempted to join you, but I told your father I wouldn’t climax until tomorrow.’ She flashed me a grin. ‘So, are you ready to hear how I did lose my virginity?’
I nodded again.
‘This was nineteen forty-eight, remember. The world was just getting back to normal three years after the war had ended. I’d finished both school and secretarial college. I was proficient at shorthand and typing, and I spoke French, courtesy of my mother. It was summer, most people were thinking of holidays, but I was treading the pavements of the City, trying to find a job. I arrived home one afternoon, to find my mother in the company of a gentleman. I’d met him before. He worked at the Foreign Office, and occasionally came to dinner parties with my parents and their friends. He would have been in his late thirties then, a few years younger than Carole and twenty years older than me. He was devastatingly good looking and, although I didn’t know it at gaziantep ofise gelen bayan escort the time, was enjoying the favours of both of them.
‘I knew straight away, from the expressions on their faces, that they’d been discussing me. Strangely, that didn’t shock me. Neither did my mother’s question. “How would you like to go on holiday with Robert. He’s heading over to France for a few days in Paris before spending ten days in Nice. He’s invited all of us. Your father and I are busy, but that’s no reason you shouldn’t go.”
‘So, there it was, or rather there I was, laid out on the table, so to speak. It was obvious. My mother had offered Robert the opportunity of introducing me to the pleasures of the flesh, to make a woman of me. And it was just as obvious that I was going to accept. What else should an eighteen-year-old do when offered the chance of two weeks in France, in the company of a handsome man trusted by her mother not to bring her to any harm. Two days later we caught the Night Ferry train from Victoria and arrived in Paris the following morning.’
She paused and grinned at me. ‘Sorry, Martin, this is sounding a bit long winded. Do you want me to skip ahead, straight to the naughty bits?’ She nodded towards my groin. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get cramp, or friction burns.’
I grinned back. How had it come to seem normal to be lying naked beside my mother with an erection, masturbating while she talked to me? ‘You’re not boring me, Mum.’
‘Mmm. I can see I’ve got your attention,’ she chuckled.
‘Well then. We had separate sleepers on the train, the only thing that woke me during the night was the men chaining down the wagons inside the ferry. I was a bit surprised, actually. I’d expected Robert to make his move as soon as he got me alone. I was prepared. Carole had whisked me off to the Marie Stopes clinic near Euston Station, to be fitted with a diaphragm and provided with a supply of spermicidal jelly. He didn’t attempt to seduce me on the train, nor at the Ritz, where he’d thoughtfully booked a two-bedroom suite. Did I tell you his family was rich?’
I shook my head.
‘They were, Filthy. Anyway, by the second morning, I was beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a mistake. Robert had been a perfect gentleman, too perfect, and I remained as pure as it was possible for a girl to be who was keyed up with anticipation. Or to put that more crudely, as your father likes, I was wet for him. But he hadn’t taken advantage, and another thought crossed my mind. Perhaps he had bought me from Carole and was going to sell me on to a white slaver who would consign me to the harem of some cruel, deviant Sheikh.’
She chuckled. ‘Even that didn’t sound so bad to my eager imagination. No such luck though. Over breakfast, Robert told me were going shopping. Well, apart from sex, shopping is most women’s favourite occupation. So, I happily took his arm as we strolled from the Place Vendome down to the Rue Saint-Honoré, where our first stop was a lingerie boutique. We’d hardly got through the door, before an elegantly dressed Madame accosted Robert and told him she would be delighted to assist him select the intimate apparel that would best complement Mademoiselle’s unequalled beauty. Obviously older men buying lingerie for their younger female companions was normal in Paris. I understood every word, of course, including Robert’s reply, in his own fluent French, that Mademoiselle was to try everything on before we made a selection.
Madame beckoned us with a wave of an immaculately manicured hand and Mademoiselle, closely followed by Robert, found herself in private changing room. Robert flopped into the armchair conveniently provided for men to rest their wallets while watching their mistresses try on the lingerie of their fantasies. Madame pulled an empty coat hanger off a rack and suggested I might wish to disrobe. After I had removed my summer coat and dress, she sniffed at the sight of my Marks and Sparks bra and panties. Off they had to come too. So, finally, Robert had got me naked.’
My mother paused and gazed across at me. Listening to her story, I had almost forgotten that I was naked and stroking my erection. For a moment, I felt a flush of embarrassment and my hand froze. She grinned widely.
‘Don’t stop now. You’ve seen me naked. I’m bit older than I was then, and I’ve gone up a size, but I’m not that different to how Robert would have seen me. It was the first time I’d been naked in front of a man, of course, and even though I’d been expecting it, it was still a bit of a shock, especially in a changing room under the scrutiny of Madame. I resisted the temptation to cover myself with my hands and, after a moment or two, was surprised to find that I didn’t mind at all. Let them look, what did I have to hide? Well, I hoped Madame wouldn’t look too closely at the crotch of my discarded knickers. They were damp, for certain.
‘Actually, Madame was far more interested in me than any of my clothing. As she advanced with a tape gaziantep ofise gelen escort measure, I knew instinctively that she was enjoying what she saw as much, if not more, than Robert. As she measured my bust and waist and hips, her fingers managed to brush all my intimate places. She took each measurement several times, just to be sure Monsieur, making me rotate so that he got the full view of her touching me. How was that supposed to happen? A middle-aged French woman taking advantage of my nakedness, while the man I expected to be my first lover watched. Call me wicked, but my nipples were hard and my pussy was moist.’
She chuckled softly. ‘Just like they are now, remembering it all.’ She reached a hand inside her gown to stroke her nipple, pushing the material aside to allow me to watch.
‘Having taken my measurements,’ she continued, ‘Madame disappeared for a few moments, and returned with an armful of bras, panties, cami-knickers, basques, suspender belts and stockings. I take it you know what they all are?’
‘Not sure about basques, but they sound nice.’
‘They are. I’ll show you one later. Anyway, Madame and Robert had me try each of them on and model them, they let me put my shoes back on for better effect. Knickers on, knickers off. It went on for some time before Robert was satisfied. I hate to think what it all cost in the end. I didn’t care. They all looked fabulous, and I felt fabulous, and so sexy in them. Robert selected a matching set for me to wear and I was allowed to get dressed.
‘”Have the rest delivered to the Ritz,” Robert told Madame, handing her his card. “Certainement,” she replied. “And what shall we do with the …” She pointed at my Marks and Sparks finest.
‘”Burn them,” he said.
‘By then it was time for a coffee. We sat at an outdoor table, in the sunshine. The waiter fussed over me and emboldened by the attention and caffeine, I took Robert’s hand. “Thank you. They’re all lovely,” I said. “Are you going to make love to me tonight?”
‘What is it you men call a woman who comes onto you and then doesn’t deliver? A cock-tease. I don’t know what the equivalent is for a man. A cunt-tease sounds like a sex toy. Oops, perhaps I shouldn’t mention those. Anyway, Robert’s smile would have melted an ice maiden’s chastity belt, but he shook his head. “Not yet, Moira. When we get to Nice. Before then we’ve more shopping to do, and there’s a few things I want to show you.”
‘More shopping and sightseeing, before I’d be deflowered! Oh well, I’d waited eighteen years, what difference would a couple more days make? A helluva lot as it turned out!
‘After finishing our coffees, it was time for the couturier. I was allowed to keep my new underwear on, which was fortunate as the measurers and fitters were all men. They didn’t look at me in the quite the same way as Madame had done, which was almost a disappointment. Once again, I left the shop in a new, and very chic outfit, while the rest of my trousseau, together with my own clothes, was delivered to the Ritz. My mother would have been horrified if I’d allowed them to burned, clothes were still rationed back then.
‘After a leisurely lunch on the Champs Elysée, we visited the Eiffel Tower in the afternoon, walked back along the Left Bank and returned to the Ritz for dinner. And it was after dinner things got a whole lot more interesting.
‘I’d selected a narrow waisted, bottom hugging dress with a matching jacket. The skirt was below the knee in what was called the “new look.” That was probably a good thing, as I was only wearing a sheer basque underneath and stockings. Robert nodded his approval and asked the doorman to call a taxi to take us to the Folies Bergère.
‘You might not believe it now, with X-rated movies available for sale, and magazines like Penthouse and Hustler revealing everything a woman has to show but, back then, the only place you could legally see a naked woman in Britain, apart from at home, was at the Windmill Theatre. And they weren’t allowed to move. There was no such censorship in France. The show we watched had women in all states of undress dress, right down to nothing at all. And they moved. Oh, they could move. And they looked so fabulous. I’d never seen anything like it. I was entranced. They dominated the stage, and the audience, women as well as men, seemed to worship them. You’d have thought that a lone, totally nude woman performing an erotic dance in front of scores of fully clothed men, would somehow feel threatening. What might they do to her if they could reach her? But it didn’t feel like that at all. The power and the energy seemed to flow from her. I loved it. I wanted to be her.’
My mother paused again, and I watched her hand gently stroking her breast inside the robe. I’d seen shows too, where drunken men catcalled and cheered the strippers. Would my mother really want to strip for them? Interesting thought.
‘We stayed ’till late, and when we left, I thought it would be back to the Ritz. I wasn’t used to alcohol back then and we’d had a bit to drink, but I didn’t feel sleepy. So, I didn’t mind when Robert suggested visiting a nightclub. He’d obviously been before, because there was no sign on the door to advertise what was behind it. Which turned out to be a smoky dive with a small central stage surrounded by tables at which mostly men, but also some couples were drinking. Robert handed some notes to the doorman. He found us a table close to the stage and sent the waiter over with a bottle of champagne.
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