This is all fiction…or rather fantasy. Love getting comments. Please let me know what you did or didn’t like.
edit: Had posted earlier today, but realized I didn’t include a link to Part 2. But, stupidly, I added a link to the post itself, which then was taken down for having a URL included. Ugh. Anyway, link to Part 2 now in the comments below.
thanks!
My name is Amanda.
I was 17 when my dad passed away. He had lung cancer, and it wasn’t really a surprise to any of us. He had continued to smoke even after his initial diagnosis, which was devastating to my mother, and to my brother and I. We felt that he was being selfish and cared more about “enjoying” his time remaining on earth (by smoking) than possibly extending his time with his family.
Nonetheless, after he passed, my mom had a hard time. We had some money put away for my college but mom had to continue to work to keep up her prior standard of living. She did have a good job, though, and was able to pay for everything – she just had to delay her retirement past when she might have otherwise wanted to.
I contemplated staying home with mom for a year and maybe attending some community college classes, but I was always a good student, and had gotten into a good school, so mom told me she’d be fine, and that I should go away to school and not worry about her.
I did just that. Moved away for 4 years, and did well in college. However, I was always secretly worried about mom and how she was doing alone. She mentioned going out to dinner with another man a couple of times, but that was it. I think that she either never found Mr Right (the II) or maybe she didn’t really want to find him and have to devote energy to a new relationship.
My brother Tyler had moved to the west coast after college, and didn’t seem to worry about mom. I suppose that he acknowledged that he was concerned the few times we spoke on the phone, but he certainly didn’t really do anything to actually ACT on those feelings. He visited for Christmas every other year, and that’s about it.
After I graduated, I found a job somewhat easily. It was a job working for a IT company, and I was a sales rep. I didn’t need to meet anyone in person (ever!) but just be available on the phone or via email 6 days a week. It didn’t pay great, but it let me do the one thing that I had been wishing to do – move back in and be with mom to help her out.
It wasn’t that I felt like she needed my help, but she was alone, and I didn’t think that was ‘right.’ I suppose that she could have joined a bridge league, or a canasta club, or something, but that wasn’t really her. She would rather spend quality quiet time with one or two friends or family, rather than a whole group of semi-friends.
When I moved back in, we had to decide if I should live in my old bedroom, or in the basement. Even though the basement didn’t have its own entrance, it was more private (for both of us) and so that’s what I picked. Mom was happy to have me back, although she told me more than a few times that I could live wherever I wanted to, and that she was just fine. However, living rent-free in the basement was fine with me.
For the first few months, things went fine. I went out with some old friends who still lived around town, and got to know the old neighborhood. I was now a college graduate with some disposable income, and that provides a whole different view of things compared with a 17 year old high school senior.
Mom and I had dinner together 3 or 4 nights a week, which was pretty easy to do since she got off work at 4pm, and I worked from home. I tried to do as much of the grocery shopping as I could, since I wasn’t otherwise paying for anything at the house.
During these dinners, the two of us became much closer than we had been before. In spite of our 35 or so year age difference, we were becoming “real friends.”
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I had gone on a few dates in the 9 months or so since I had moved back home. However, none of the guys were worth going out with again. It was dinner and a movie, and then we were done.
During college, I had dabbled in lesbianism – as many of my peers did – just for experimentation purposes. In these months of dating a few losers, I began to wonder if I really did want to date a woman again. I was always attracted to both men and women more or less equally. Maybe if the men weren’t cutting it, then women would? I had only ever dated another college student, while at college, so trying to find a woman i liked in “the real world” might be challenging.
I ended up chatting with, and later flirting with, a nice gal from my gym. She and I hit it off, and started to go out a couple of times a week.
My mom became aware that I was dating someone, even though I didn’t come right out and tell her. I had told her when I was going out on my earlier dates, where I was going, what time I was to be home, etc, as much for my safety as anything else. She realized that even though I was still going out a few nights a week, I wasn’t relaying this information to her.
One evening at dinner, with a bottle of wine on the table, she asked me….
“So, Amanda, are you dating someone now? I see you going out every other night.”
“Yeah, kind of” I responded.
“Oh, well tell me about him.”
“Well, *her* name in Gina, and she works at Main Street Financial as an analyst.”
I could see my mom sort of choke back a little gasp of surprise.
“Oh, I see” mom replied, smiling slightly.
“Are you surprised that I am dating a girl?”
“I suppose so. I just never realized that you were, um, gay.”
“I don’t think that I am. I actually like both boys and girls.”
“Oh, I see” mom said again.
“Are you OK with this mom?”
“Of course I am darling. Who you love is who you love.”
“Well, I certainly don’t love her. We’re just hanging out together lately. We enjoy each others company.”
“And does she live here in town?”
“Yeah, she has an apartment over on Glendale”
“Oh, that’s nice. She lives alone?”
“Yup, she’s a big girl” I joked.
“Well, then I suppose that it’s nice to have a place to be, um, romantic with her without your mom around the house.”
“Mother!”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Er, I guess so, but if I was dating a guy, would you be asking me if we had a place to be ‘romantic’ together?”
“No” mom responded, then added “I’d probably just ask you if he was good in bed, and had a nice, ya know, package.”
“MOM!”
“Although it was years ago, I was 22 once myself. I do remember what it was like to be with a young man. There is a certain itch that a women gets that men are very good at scratching.”
“I guess” was the only response I could muster.
“I dated a few guys before I met your dad. Each one was better in the bedroom than the last. I made sure that each one was really good at scratching my little itch.”
“Well, Gina is pretty good at itch scratching too” I smiled, taking another drink of wine.
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that. I hope you two are right for each other, and that I get to meet her one day soon.”
“Thanks mom, you’ve been really cool about this. I would love to bring her over sometime.”
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Gina and I happily dated for another 2 weeks until she decided that it was over. I wasn’t really heartbroken, but disappointed that someone that I thought could be right really wasn’t.
I stayed home and ate ice cream and watched feel-good movies with mom for the next week.
One evening as we were turning off the TV from our latest chick-flick, mom asked me:
“Amanda, do you, um, scratch that itch yourself when you don’t have an itch scratcher that you are seeing?”
“Mom, what the hell are you asking me?”
“You know. Do you – literally – scratch yourself when you need to?”
“Mother, why would you want to know?” I wasn’t angry, just more taken aback at her question.
“Your dad died just over 5 years ago. I was brought up in a Catholic family where we were raised from a very young age at Sunday School that scratching our own itch is never to be done.”
“Uh huh” I added.
“But I know that times have changed and society is different now. But I never, um, learned how to scratch myself – as we’re calling it – so I don’t really know what to do. But I certainly have an itch. A big itch. An itch that I would really REALLY like to scratch.”
We were sitting on the couch a few feet apart from one another. I wasn’t quite sure what to make out of the discussion that we were having.
“Mother, are you asking me if I masturbate, and also saying that you don’t know how to do it yourself?”
Mom blushed, but said “yes.”
“Wow.”
“I’m not asking you to give me an in-person lesson, but maybe help instruct me in the technique, and maybe if you had any of the, um, itch scratching tools that I suspect girls like nowadays, that may be good too.”
“Ha” I was almost laughing now.
“Sure, mom. I’ll set you up. You’re hard up after 5 years without any sex, and you’d like to get off. I can understand that.”
“More like 7 years. Your dad was too sick his last 2 years.”
“Oh, sorry mom.”
“No problem. That’s past us now. I’m not looking to date anyone, but if I can get this little itch taken care of, I’d feel much better, I think.”
“Give me a minute mom. I’ll be right back.”
I went down to my room and picked out one of my vibrators. It was pretty benign and, I think, a good “starter” one for mom. It wasn’t shaped like a veined penis, or the size of a zucchini. I checked that the batteries were working and went back upstairs.
I handed it over to mom and quickly showed her how to turn it on and off and adjust the speed.
“Have fun mom” I said, not even trying to hide my enjoyment with the situation.
I think mom was pretty cool with it all too. “Thanks, Amanda. I’ll try to figure it all out and let you know in the morning how it went.”
We locked up the house and went to our rooms. I hadn’t been feeling particularly horny that evening, but thinking about mom learning how to masturbate just upstairs from me got me going a bit. I didn’t have a gushing orgasm, but a nice quick one thinking about how I had just given mom the keys to the masturbation kingdom.
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I didn’t get a chance to talk with mom that morning, but did over dinner that night.
“So rookie, how did it go last night?” I joked.
“It was, well, nice. I guess.”
“Oh, wasn’t mind blowing?”
“No. Wasn’t as much fun as I remember it. Maybe I’m just getting older.”
“I suppose. I hope not, though. I plan to have awesome orgasms until I’m 99.”
“Ha, yeah, wouldn’t that be nice” mom responded. “I washed off your, um, item. It’s over there on the table if you want to take it back.”
I looked over and saw my vibrator on the side table, wrapped in paper towel.
“OK, thanks mom. Sorry it didn’t work well for you. I do, er, really like it. It scratches me just right.”
“Yeah, good. I’m glad. For me, it just buzzed a lot but never did anything else.”
“Well, right, that’s all it does. Just buzz a lot.”
“Oh. Well after 10 minutes of it just being, um, placed in there and buzzing, I got tired of it and stopped.”
I started to crack up. “Wait, you just put it in and left it there?”
“Yes, why?”
“Oh, Christ mom.”
“Amanda, watch your language.”
“Sorry, but you have to, ya know, ‘use’ it. You don’t just put it in like a tampon and wait for it to work.”
“Oh, hmmm. I see.”
Mom didn’t look like she really knew what I meant.
“Listen mom. After dinner, give it one more try. I’ll give you something else to help you figure it out.” Mom was more of a rookie than I had even realized. Guess she had never played with herself. Catholic guilt, I suppose.
“ok, dear. If you think one more try is worthwhile, I’ll try.”
We changed topics to a less sexual topic, and finished dinner. I did, however, keep refilling her wine glass as I figured that being a little tipsy can only help her.
I told mom that I could set up my laptop on the side of her bed, and play a movie that had just one woman masturbating so she could see a little better how to do it.
“It’s not an instructional video on how to masturbate. It’s just a girl using a vibrator and having a good orgasm. I’m pretty sure that there is no such thing as “So, you want to learn how to masturbate?” videos, but hopefully this will show you enough on what to do.”
I knew that my mom – due to her upbringing – may have more of an issue with direct hand-to-vagina masturbation, rather than masturbation via a toy like the small vibrator I lent her. Therefore, I had screened a couple of videos from my collection that involved vib/dildo use, rather than straight fingers on the clit. I wasn’t sure if it would matter at all, but I wanted to help her out and didn’t want her to feel unnecessarily uncomfortable. I was sure that she probably had never watched any porn, at least on purpose, so I wanted to start sort of slow.
I had a semi-long movie – about 45 minutes – queued up. I had the laptop on the bed ready to go when mom walked out of her en-suite bathroom wearing her flannel nightgown.
“You look like you are ready to party mom!”
“Funny girl. Just show me how to work this and get out.”
“Sure. You don’t *have* to do anything, however you can skip around with this button, or pause/resume with this one.”
“Ok, and after I, um, finish? What do i do? Just close the lid?”
“Yup, just close the lid. You can leave it outside your room on the table by the front door. Either later tonight if you want, or in the morning.”
“OK, thanks honey. I’ll give it a go and see how it works out!”
“Sure mom. Good luck. Hope that you learn some things and have a great orgasm” I said almost laughing.
Mom smiled at me as I hit play and walked out of her room, shutting the door behind me.
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I had a project at work that I needed to get done, and so didn’t really have a chance to touch base with mom for a few days. We of course saw one another in the house, but didn’t really have a chance to have a quiet relaxing dinner together.
It wasn’t until about 5 days later that we had a chance to make dinner and sit down with our wine.
“So, mom, anything newsworthy you want to report from the other night?” She hadn’t brought up the topic, so I had to fish for it.
“Well, it was nice.”
“Just ‘nice’?”
“Yeah, I mean I was able to, um, finish things, which felt really good. But it just didn’t feel quite the same as it did when I had, er, your dad’s penis in me.”
“Mom!”
“Well, sorry dear. But it is true that when we did have sex, he was always able to hit my special spot”
We were quiet for a minute – mom thinking about dad, and me sort of thinking about them as well. I think that I was less off-put by the thought of mom and dad together, compared with a few years ago. I was seeing mom less as just my mom, and more as a friend and peer.
“Mom, even though you’d think that we’d have the same ‘parts’ clearly we don’t. I can always have a good one just from the vibrator rubbing on me, but maybe you have more of a vaginal orgasm, and not a clitoral one.”
“Um, sure, whatever that means.”
“Just means, like you said, that you need to have something inside you to really get you to orgasm. I, on the other hand, just like to have a vibrator buzzing on top of my clitoris. Having something inside of me is fine, but I don’t really need it. Sounds like you need to have that feeling of being ‘full’ inside to really get off.”
“I can’t really believe that I’m discussing with my daughter how large an item needs to be inside my vagina to have an orgasm.”
“Sorry mom, Just trying to help you out. I love you and if you are going to be able to have pleasure – sexual pleasure – then I just want to figure out how to make it best for you.”
“Yeah I know. It’s just strange dinnertime conversation.”
We both laughed and finished up dinner talking about different things.
After dinner I went downstairs to retrieve another present for mom as she was starting to get ready for bed.
“Mom, I don’t know if or when you wanted to try something else or not, but this is one that I think you’ll really like. It’s all cleaned up and ready for you if you’d like to try it. Because it gets you both inside and outside at the same time, I thought you make like it. It’s called a Rabbit.”
“Oh, I see.”
“It has an inside part like the other one you tried, but it also has a little part – like two rabbit ears – that go right on your, um, clitoris.”
“Oh, hmmmm.”
I wasn’t sure if mom was cool with this or not. However, she reached out for it and wiggled the “ears” a bit and noticed that they were pretty soft and not likely to hurt.
“Ok, thanks Amanda. Appreciate that you’re letting me borrow your, um, stuff.”
“Sure mom. Hope it doesn’t bother you that it is somewhat used.”
“Ha, no it actually doesn’t bother me. I’m happy to know that you have the, eh, tools to get some release without having to go sleep with some strange man, or woman, to get it.”
“Oh, for reals. I’m so much happier spending some quality time with my – our – little friends, versus having some smelly fat guy stick it in me.”
“I agree” mom said, standing up and walking to her room.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/841e66/ff_momdaughter_amanda_and_her_mother_get_to_know
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/83x44s/ff_momdaughter_amanda_and_her_mother_get_to_know/)