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The following is taken from my Great Aunt’s diary – at least I think that’s who it is. I found it amongst my Uncle’s possessions after he died. He kept it locked away and it was only by chance I found the key, and only by chance I bothered to read beyond the initial pages. I have tried to be selective as some of the content is irrelevant to the main thrust of the story. I have also corrected spelling (and some grammar) where necessary, and added the odd word or two to give sense to some of the scribbles, otherwise it’s here as written.
It concerns my Great Aunt Felicity and her son Uncle Robin, and was written some time in the 1950’s (although the days are recorded the year is not). Given it’s content I confess I was both shocked and surprised. I simply didn’t believe such things happened back in those days. Today maybe, I could believe it, although even now incest is still a controversial subject but back then it must have been a total taboo
Anyway judge for yourself…
They are letting me go!! I can’t believe it! I’m not that old. I’m 57 and they can’t make me retire till I’m 60… at least that’s what I thought… but they say they can do it. They tell me they want to replace me with a younger manager. I have 3 months notice. That sounds a lot but as my flat is tied to the job I must leave my home at the same time as my work. What am I going to do? I have to find a flat and a new job but at my age and in the current economic climate that may prove impossible. Nobody wants an old woman!
I have tried and tried but I was right, nobody wants to employ an old woman close to retirement age. If I have no job I can’t afford a flat. Does that mean I will be out on the streets? How can such things happen in this day and age. I have no money worth speaking of and no savings Oh Dear Lord what am I going to do?
I went to see the Social Security people today. They say they will help, but all they can offer me is a pittance income and no help finding somewhere to live. They say if I am homeless I can go on the social housing register, but as the waiting list is two years in this area that won’t help. They say I will have to stay in Bed and Breakfast if I can’t find a flat! Have I really come to this?
Later: Robby is coming to see me this weekend. I mustn’t tell him. It would not be fair to burden him with my troubles. Please God make me strong.
Something happened this weekend, and although I am still not clear about it in my mind, I think I will record it in some detail. It gave me an idea … a terrible, awful, horrible, selfish idea. A way out maybe, although I cannot believe I am writing this. It is the kind of obscene idea no mother should ever allow to enter her head, and I am not seriously considering it, and yet…
Let me explain. Maybe writing it down will clear my head and my mind.
It was late evening and we were watching TV. I was sleepy because I had taken my pills (I can’t sleep without them anymore), and I was laying on the sofa. Robbie was in the chair opposite. I guess I was slipping in and out of sleep and a bit restless. Anyway my dressing gown must have fallen open showing my legs. I still had my stockings on as I normally do before I go to bed and I supposed the top of one of my stocking was partially in view. I must admit I’d never worried about being too coy around Robbie… I mean, he’s my son.
But then as my eyes opened from a brief nap I noticed he was staring at my legs. I was going to cover myself up without saying anything; after all he’s a young boy and he’s bound to look at anything revealing in a female, even his Mother. But I didn’t want to embarrass him so I waited till he was looking away. But then to my horror I watched him (through half-closed eyes) get up and walk towards me. His eyes never left my legs so I couldn’t move. He stopped right in front of me and bent down staring at my stocking tops. I closed my eyes feeling both embarrassed and strangely excited. When I dared to peek again he was on his heels, his face only inches from the thick dark nylon of upper part of my stocking. As he crouched there his legs were ajar and I could see a bulge in his pants.
That was enough, I closed my eyes, half-coughed and moved slightly, and when I opened my eyes again he was back in the chair staring at the TV, with his legs tightly crossed. I stretched, pulled my dressing gown back over me and said something about going to bed. He mumbled a vague goodnight.
Later as I lay in the darkness of my bed I heard a squeaking noise from the bedroom next door and realised Robbie was masturbating. I’d never heard that before and guessed he probably never did it when he was visiting me. That meant he was undoubtedly masturbating to visions of his mother’s legs wrapped in sheer stockings, probably with a sharp seam down the back. Men are all the same!
It was a strange feeling to suddenly be the source of your son’s sexual halkalı escort fantasy and I wasn’t sure how to react. He was still just a little boy to me, and yet obviously he wasn’t. Since my husband left he’s been my only real companion. I’d told him many times he was the ‘only man in my life’ but that was just a phrase and I didn’t really see him as a man at all. But he was always there for me and I was grateful. I loved him very much. But the idea he was a sexual being, a mature man, had never really occurred to me.
That said I know men and I know how their sexual needs can come to dominate their actions. Not that I was indisposed to sex, far from it. It’s just it’s been a long long time since anyone had looked at me that way and I wasn’t sure how to react. I supposed I was flattered as well as alarmed. But the love I have for Robbie seemed to make it alright… even if he was my son. At length my fingers slipped down between my legs and I fell asleep with my hand gently resting between my thighs.
It wasn’t until next day I began to wonder how much of his excitement was down to the fact he could see my stocking-tops and how much was down to me being his Mother. There are lots of magazines around showing women in stockings and garter belts; maybe he’d developed what they call a ‘fetish’. On the other hand he was 19 and I knew he’d had girl friends and everyone wore stockings, so was it the fact of who I was that had made it so exciting for him? Perhaps it was a combination of both; his ‘mummy’ looking sexy in stockings?
It was then my mind made that horrid selfish insane leap. I was wondering idly how far he would go to see more, and that linked itself suddenly with my own problems. Could I use his incestuous desires to my own advantage? Maybe he could help me… find me a place to live? Maybe I could even live with him for a while until I found a place of my own… if I was that attractive maybe I could use his lust to my advantage?
Almost as soon as I had the thought I was ashamed of it. It was in effect a kind of abuse. Not only was it selfish, not only was I thinking about using my son for my own ends, but I was thinking about using his pubescent sexual desires as a way of solving my financial problems. Even if he was attracted to his own mother at the moment (and that was by no means certain, it may have just been the stockings), it would soon pass and he would return his focus to girls his own age. Interfering in that process could damage him, worse if I did try and use his attraction to me for my own ends I would have to encourage it… give him something to get excited about. I too would have to be incestuous. In fact I’d have to try to seduce my own son!
Those horrible thoughts are still swirling around in my head. I am so desperate. I will soon have no job and nowhere to live… and the only plan I can come up with is to corrupt my own son and make him want me. I say ‘want me’ but I really mean ‘want my body’. I am an evil woman.
Robbie is coming again tomorrow which is odd because he normally only comes every couple of weeks. Am I reading something into this…?
He is coming this afternoon and I have decided there is no point fretting about my stupid idea unless I am sure he really is interested in me (heaven help me!). So tonight I will do something to see if his interest really exists and how far he would take it. Nothing too much, just a little flutter to find out more. But I will put my best stockings on just for him.
My idea was to fake a deep sleep. Over our evening meal I told Robbie I had been prescribed some new sleeping pills which were stronger than normal. I said I’d had trouble sleeping because of problems at work (I didn’t go into details, but it seemed an appropriate time to introduce him to my difficulties), and the Doctor had told me to try this new medication. The only trouble was at first they might knock me right out. I asked him (as innocently as I could) to make sure I got to bed that night. I said he might have to shake me hard to wake me up if I dropped off on the sofa and he might have to help me into bed. I asked him if that was alright. He didn’t say much but I was sure I saw a light in his eyes. He just said ‘ok, mum, will do’.
Later we sat again watching TV as we usually did, and I again had my dressing gown on over my stocking-clad legs. I tried to time it carefully, and I made to take my pills at 10.30pm. In fact I didn’t take anything, but about half an hour I pretended to drop off to sleep. During this time I made myself a little restless ensuring the dressing gown revealed a little more than it should. I didn’t go silly, just one leg uncovered up to the beginning of a stocking top. I had my head half-turned into a pillow and one half-hidden eye open just a crack. Then I waited to see what if anything would happen.
After taksim escort some time Robbie stirred. He came over to me and touched my arm.
“Bed time Mum,” he said but not very loudly. I didn’t stir.
He shook my arm, but again not very boldly.
Then he stood back and looked down at me. This went on for several minutes, and he just seemed to be standing there. Then he bent down and grabbed my shoulder and shook me a little bit harder.
“Come on Mum,” he said in a normal voice. “Time to go to bed.”
Obviously I still didn’t move or show any response and he stood up again. But this time I saw his hand move towards my leg and I felt the gentlest touch as he lifted the edge of my dressing gown and pulled it open. He then lifted the other edge and pulled that open too. Both my legs were now visible right up to my panties.
I watched his face through my eye-crack as he stared down at my now revealed legs and stockings. He was totally focused and I suddenly realised he was shaking either with fear or lust. I also saw his hand drop slowly to the front of his trousers and on to a rapidly growing bulge.
For a long time he just stood there ogling my legs with a strange look on his face, and I began to feel increasingly naked and oddly excited. The idea that my body was having such an effect on my son was erotic in the extreme, and I felt myself becoming wet for the first time in many years. There was nothing to do however but to wait and see what he did next.
Eventually his hand dropped on to my leg just around the knee. I saw it coming so I managed not to react. He said again “time for bed Mum,” but in a strained voice. I kept still and tried to make my breathing sound deep and calm. Then, slowly, very slowly, I felt his hand sliding up my thigh. He seemed to be entranced by the feel of the nylon. Eventually his hand came to rest over one of my suspender clips, half on the stocking top and half on the naked skin above. I felt him squeezing gently but rhythmically and I knew he was fantasising, his mind probably smitten by the touch of such an intimate and forbidden place. As I lay there letting my son fondle my legs and stockings I realised this moment would be a source of endless masturbation for him. I wondered idly if it would be for me too.
Then his hand moved up and touched the bottom of my panties and sent a jolt of electricity upwards through the whole of my body. The touch of his hand on the lips of my vagina was just too much and I could not stop myself twitching and moving.
His hand shot away and he stood bolt upright with a look of terror on his face. I tried to react by mumbling slightly and adjusting myself as if only stirring in my sleep. But I realised the moment was gone as I heard him take a deep breath and felt my dressing gown being lifted back over my legs. Robbie then grabbed me by the shoulder and shook hard.
“Mother,” he said in a loud voice. “Bed time, come on wake up!”
I stirred obediently but decided to be cautious and play it as if I were heavily drugged.
“Er… what?” I mumbled, and opened my eyes with as much of a dazed look as I could manage.
Robbie looked at me oddly. It took me a moment to realize he was feeling guilty and very nervous. “Ok Robbie,” I said softly. “You’d better help me up. I feel sleepy and I don’t think I can make it alone.”
I lifted up my arms for him to slide his underneath and lift me up. But he just stood there looking unhappy and confused.
“I’m not going to bite you.” I said with a sleepy grin. “Lift me up son, and help me to bed”
“Sorry,” he murmured, and slid his hands under my arms and pulled me up. My face was up against his and I could see he was starting to sweat. I kissed him on the cheek.
“You don’t mind helping you old mother do you son?”
He looked away. “No Mum, ‘course not.”
I turned around so he was holding me from behind and we half staggered, half stumbled into my bedroom. As we entered I pretended to doze again and started to slip down. I’m not sure why I did that. I suspect to my shame I wanted what happened next to happen. As I slid down his hands on my waist slipped upwards and he ended up holding me around the chest, my breasts cupped in both his hands. I made a soft snoring noise as if I were asleep again, just to reassure him not to panic. We stayed like that for several moments. Me handing forward as if unconscious; him holding me up and tightly grasping my boobs. Then he began to walk me towards the bed, and as he did so I could feel his hard manhood up against my bottom.
He lay me face forward on the bed but his hands stayed where they were, and he was leaning forward virtually laying on me. Then, ever so gently, he began to squeeze and fondle at my breasts and his hips started to gyrate against my bottom. Again to my shame I did nothing, letting him enjoy the feel of his Mother’s body for as long as he wanted. But it didn’t şişli escort last long. I suspect fear got he better of him and he finally pulled his hands back and stood up.
Then, after a moment he gently and carefully removed my dressing gown, leaving me laying on my front but with my stocking clad legs and bottom open to his view.
He did nothing for a long time after that. I couldn’t see what was happening but I suspected he was simply basking in his new unobscured view of my bottom, suspenders, and seamed stockings.
However as I lay there face down on the bed he had no choice other than to try and at least arrange me comfortably. He lifted my feet on the bed, and at the same time straightened my position. Then rolled me over. He leaned in close and I could feel his heavy breathing on my face. I had a sudden fear for a moment (I think it was fear) he was going to rape my unconscious body, but he just adjusted my arms and very slowly lifted the blanket and covered me up. Then he bent down and kissed me lightly on the cheek and left.
Not long after I heard the bed next door squeaking wildly. I knew how he felt, but I was silent as I followed his example.
He’s gone home now and nothing was said or implied about last night. He is a typical teenager, frustratingly insular especially around his parents. I am concerned, however, that my little ‘experiment’ may have done more damage than I first thought. What if he is lusting after his mother but he can barely admit it, even to himself. If he represses those desires his sexual feelings may become associated with doing something ‘dangerous or wrong’. He might then find it hard to have a healthy sexual relationship with any woman.
Could that be true… or am I just trying to justify my selfish desire to continue down the path of seducing my own son! Am I an evil old woman… a Harlot of the worst kind?
Robbie phoned. He is coming again this weekend. Whatever my concerns may be it must be true he wants more. He’s never come three weeks in a row, so it must be the case he’s hoping again to see me unconscious and undressed, and maybe again fondle my breasts and run his hands over my nylons.
Oh God, just writing that makes me so hot. Is it what he wants or what I want?
Whatever my desires I must concentrate on the practical issues before me. Robbie has his own flat his father set up for him (probably so the old bastard could shag his new young slut undisturbed!), and it has two bedrooms. Surely he would not object to letting me stay for a while, especially if there were a chance he could use my body to enhance his sexual fantasies? What young boy would not want that?
But I must be careful how I ask though, he mustn’t suspect I am using him. Or maybe I shouldn’t ask. Maybe I can make it his idea. I could play the poor weak vulnerable mother who badly needs help… and would be very very grateful to the one who helps her?
That sounds so evil, so Machiavellian. Am I really going to do this? But what choice do I have?
There is one other thing that bothers me; how far am I willing to let this go? Letting him look at me and even letting him touch my breasts is one thing, but what if he tries to have sex with me, with his mother? What would I do then?
Robbie has come and gone and the deed is done!
I was crying when he arrived. Naturally he asked me what was the matter, but at first I refused to say. Then, after much coaxing, I told him I was going to loose my job and my flat and I didn’t know what to do. I confessed to him how scared I was to be loosing everything at my age. He tried to comfort me, although he really had no idea what to say. After a while I pretended to feel better and told him not to worry I would work something out.
The rest of the day was pretty much the same as usual. It wasn’t until the evening that I played my only card.
I was in my bedroom. I had taken my dress off and laid it on the bed as if I were getting changed. Then I sat on the bed dressed only in my lingerie, bra, panties, and stockings and suspenders, and I started to cry again loudly. After a few moments the door opened and Robbie came in.
He saw how I was dressed and immediately made to leave, but I wailed loudly and reached out for him.
“What am I going to do,” I cried. “I shall be destitute, out on the street and sleeping in doorways”.
He came over and into my arms, trying to calm and reassure me. Obviously I acted as if I were oblivious to the fact I was undressed. I held him tight and crushed him to my bosom.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered still weeping. “I know it’s nothing to do with you. I just needed to confide in someone. I don’t mean to involve you in my problems.”
He held me for a while with my face buried in his chest. I have no idea where his eyes were looking but he seemed very attentive and caring. Eventually I calmed down as if I were getting over the outburst. I took his hand, squeezed it and rested it on my thigh, again apparently oblivious to the fact it was touching my suspenders. “You such a good boy coming to see your Mummy and taking care of her,” I murmured. “What would I do without you?”
“It’s ok Mom,” he whispered breathlessly. “I don’t mind. I want to help… I love you Mom.”
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