Incest stories,mom and son, Harry is going home after three years to his dominant mother
The train carriage was empty which suited my mood due to the fact I was going home and I really wasn’t looking forward to it.
I felt a dull ache in my stomach at the thought of meeting my mother again. It was because of her that I had left home in the first place.
My mother Celia, is a harridan, a harpy, a she-devil or whatever title you wish to convey upon her.
She had me late in life, at thirty, and she has always blamed me for the state of her life after I was born. My father was twenty years older than her and an extremely successful business man but he died of a heart attack when I was twelve years old.
My mother seemed to wallow in her new status as a widow, always dressing in black and forever mourning.
She was always a good looking woman, not pretty but handsome. Tall with shoulder length black hair and an hourglass figure. She had bright blue eyes and full lips that she always kept glossed in red lipstick, a large bust, flat stomach, curvy hips and a full bottom that had many men hitting on her and not just because of her wealth.
She looked at them with disdain. Nothing nor anyone was good enough for her so she started to take her frustrations out on me.
That’s when the abuse started.
It began with verbal humiliation then progressed to physical violence. Her favourite thing was to have me naked over her lap and spank me until I cried.
As I got older I was horrified to find I was getting an erection while being punished. It got to the stage where I looked forward to the spankings but then it dawned on me that my mother was enjoying it in a perverse way too. One time after a spanking I went to the bathroom to dry my tear stained face and while passing her bedroom door I heard grunting sounds along with a buzzing noise. It was then I realised she was masturbating.
The spankings became more frequent and that was when I decided I had to leave. I had to prove to myself that I could get away from her control.
But now at the age of nineteen I was headed back home as I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I had ran out of money and options.
For the last three years I had been living in London, working in hotels from pot washer to cocktail barman. I thoroughly enjoyed my time.
Especially when one of the older married cleaners tricked me into a store cupboard and took advantage of me. As soon as she saw my thick and throbbing nine inch cock she gasped with shock.
I’m average height, slim with boyish good looks. I get described as cute. Girls my own age aren’t interested in me but I seem to attract older women.
After that episode word traveled fast around the hotel and I was getting as much sex as I could handle, usually from mature ladies.
Then one day I was called into the managers office to be told I was being ‘let go.’ In other words I was being made redundant.
I was told that the American tourist trade to London had greatly decreased and that the hotel was making cuts so it was a case of ‘last in, first out.’