The horror with which a society regards a particular act can be measured fairly accurately from the severity with which those who commit it are punished. In California and New Mexico, the punishment for incest can be up to 50 years in prison,(1) and although other states are less rigorous, it is obvious from the above that as far as social attitudes are concerned, incest touches some very raw nerve endings indeed.
At the same time, Freud and many others agree that literally every individual goes through an incestuous phase as a normal part of his or her psychological development, though usually these incestuous desires never get beyond the stage of pure fantasy, even if they emerge that far from the subconscious.(2)
The layman should not be surprised that something as universal as the desire to mesh sexual organs with the opposite-sexed parent should be regarded with such dread. People most hate that which they fear in themselves. When Mr. Average Man says "incest offenders should be slung in the slam and the key thrown away," he is really saying to himself, "see, you don't really want to hump your mother, since if you did, you wouldn't want the law to be so tough on others who did likewise." And the more he does want to hump his mother, the more anxiously will Mr. Average Man try and prove the contrary to himself in this way.
Thus, although the origin of the incest taboo remains a matter of controversy, and even Freud, who had an elaborate theory on the subject, admitted that "we do not even know how to guess it",(3) once the taboo had come into being, everyone's secret fear that he or she was in danger of violating it would paradoxically lead to incest being held in greater and greater revulsion.
The result is that incest is illegal in every state in the union, and often the subject of severe penalties. Nor should the reader console himself with the thought that like the statutes prohibiting sex in any other position than the "missionary", even between man and wife, the laws against incest are dead letters. They are not. Busybody neighbors and jealous spouses not infrequently denounce incestuous couples to the police, and long sentences are meted out.
Most offenders do not get caught, of course, but that does not mean that they do not pay a steep price for their indulgence in the forbidden fruit. Time and time again the psychoanalysis of patients suffering from severe neuroses has shown that the original trauma that lies behind their emotional disturbances is incestuous in nature.
Is this because there is something fundamentally "wrong" about incest, something "unhealthy" that brings as its automatic and deserved punishment guilt and neurosis? Most certainly not. The reason that incestuous desires, or to an even greater degree, incestuous acts, have such devastating effects is simply that they are forbidden with such force that the individual who violates the taboo is unable to maintain his self-esteem. As Masters puts it, "the behavior [incest] is damaging, partly or entirely because it is so strongly prohibited. The forbidden act has been psychically charged with a kind of toxic force that strikes at the psyche of the violator."(4) Or, as Freud says with elegant simplicity, "the prohibition against the incestuous object-choice [was] perhaps the most maiming wound ever inflicted ... on the erotic life of man."(5)
Some, such as Masters, feel that the teeth of the taboo can never be pulled until society revokes all its laws against incestuous behavior, including those prohibiting incestuous marriage.(6) While I tend to agree with him, I am of the opinion that an important preliminary step is robbing the forbidden act of its terrible veil of mystery, so that the person who discovers incestuous desires within himself (as everyone will who looks hard enough) will not react with an anguished "this can't be happening to me!", but will instead see that there is nothing unusual, much less "perverse" about his sexual longings for a close female relative.
It is in the hope of dissipating this mystery to some extent, and of throwing a little cool reason on the superheated subject of incest, that this book has been written. In it, I shall show to the reader five couples who have violated perhaps the strongest part of the incest taboo: the prohibition of sexual relations between mother and son.
I have chosen mother-son incest precisely because society's irrational reaction to such situations is particularly strong, and because "Oedipal" (as opposed to sibling) incest features so crucially in Freud's theory of psychological and erotic development.
The reader who allows his mind to remain open will discover, perhaps to his astonishment, that the mothers and sons who get together sexually in the following pages are not dreadful monsters but very ordinary, often likeable, people, who could be his mother and himself. And hopefully, from such a discovery the step to replacing condemnation with compassion and comprehension will not be a hopelessly long one.
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1. E.E.L. Masters. Patterns of Incest. New York. 1963, p. 65
2. This is fundamental to all of Freud's theory. See particularly Totem and Taboo, passim.
3. Cited in Masters, op. cit., p. 185
4. Freud, op. cit., p. 74
5. Freud, Civilization and its Discontents, New York, 1930, p. 74
6. Masters, op. cit., p. 199 ff.
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CASE HISTORY ONE
Margaret T. was a tall, well-built, and very unhappy-looking blonde in her late thirties. The way in which her full breasts were heaving against the front of her dress made it obvious that she was very nervous.
"Doctor," she said, "I ... I just don't know how to tell you all this. Maybe ... maybe I'm just wasting your time and mine. I think it might be better if I just cancelled the appointment and went home...."
She even went so far as to start to get up from her chair when I said to her gently, "Please, Mrs. T., you know you've got to talk about your problem sometime if you don't want to have to live with it for the rest of your life."
That was enough to make her sit down again, for it was obvious that whatever was on her mind was bothering her so much that she just couldn't face the prospect of having to go on living with it.
She still couldn't bring herself to talk, however, so I decided to give her a bit of prompting.
"Is your problem of a sexual nature?" I asked. Often, when patients show a great deal of shame about talking, it is because they feel guilty at having violated some sexual taboo.
Mrs. T. didn't answer, but something about the look that came into her eyes indicated to me as clearly as words could have that I had guessed correctly. Clearly, she was both afraid that I was going to divine her "terrible" secret, and also hoping that I would, so that she would be spared the pain of revealing it to me herself.
"It is sexual, isn't it?" .
She nodded slightly. If it weren't for the knowledge of how much help therapy can do for people, I don't think anyone could stand working as a therapist. There is something so terribly pathetic about the way in which patients hide their fears and clutch at their defensive mechanisms.
"Are you perhaps emotionally involved with another woman?" I asked. Homosexuality is such a hang-up with our society, that that's always a good place to start when trying to prove to a patient by one's tone that one doesn't believe in treating unusual sexual behavior with condemnation.
Mrs. T. looked at me sharply. "No," she said, "that's not it at all. What I've done is even worse than that!"
She stared at me with her lower lip trembling, and then, suddenly, she said, "I've fucked with my own son! My own boy! And I'm still fucking with him! I can't stop! I just can't stop!"
Mrs. T. buried her face in her hands and started to sob violently. I waited a moment before breaking in, since I have always felt that crying is a good emotional release for a patient. Then, gently, I said, "Mrs. T., you're certainly not the first woman who has done that, or the first one who has admitted to it in this office."
She looked up in astonishment, tears pouring down her face. Like so many people engaging in so-called "deviant" behavior, she had assumed that she was part of a small, wicked majority engaged in depraved activity which most people could hardly even begin to understand. Needless to say, nothing could be farther from the truth, as far as incest is concerned.
"Incestuous activity is quite common, Mrs. T.," I said. "And literally everyone goes through an incestuous phase in his or her childhood psychological development. That's what Freud tells us, at any rate. So there's no reason for you to feel so terribly guilty about the fact that you and your son have put these fantasies into concrete form."
"Can I be cured, Doctor?" she asked. It was clear from the hesitant way in which she asked that question that she was afraid the answer might be no.
"When people engage in so-called abnormal sexual behavior," I said, "that behavior is usually just a symptom of some deeper psychological problem. The important thing is to try and tackle that deeper problem. When that is done, then the symptoms often disappear. But of course I can't do anything to help you until you give me the whole story, with every single detail, told in whatever language seems most natural to you."
"All right, Doctor," she said....
My husband Pete's a good man, I guess, but there's something kind of overpowering about him, too, in bed and out of it. He makes all the important decisions on running the household, and when he wants to have sex, he just says to me, "Woman, my prick needs some exercise, so open your thighs and let me get at that pink little pussy of yours."
He's really virile, and can fuck away for ages. It's funny, at times I really get turned on by his strong, masterful approach, and come like crazy, with my twat really pulsating and contracting around that hard tool of his. But at other times, I wish that he wouldn't be so insistent about always having his own way and always fucking when he wants to instead of worrying about whether I might or might not be in the mood. Sometimes, as a matter-of-fact, I really get horny, and my cunt gets so wet that I have to go change my panties because they start clinging uncomfortably to my cuntlips. Then I think how nice it would be to have that thick rod sliding back and forth inside me, churning my love juices and winding me tighter and tighter until I came in a series of cunt-busting shudders! But if he isn't in the mood, or wants to watch a football game on T.V., then it's no dice, even if I plead and beg for him to hump me.
He's a truck driver and is away from home quite a lot, and when he's gone, I don't know whether I'm happy or sad that he isn't around to dominate me sexually with that big tool of his!
We have a boy named Frank who's thirteen. He's a really shy, quiet boy who does his homework and never gets into any kind of trouble at school. Looking at him, it's kind of hard to tell that he's really his father's son, though I swear to you that he is, Doctor. I mean, Pete's really built like Tarzan or someone, with great big muscles and a kind of swaggering walk, while Frank's sort of slender and not too tall.
I've always really dotted on that boy of mine. In fact, I guess maybe I've even spoiled him a bit. It's just that it's such a relief to have a male around who isn't totally taking charge in the way that Pete does.
A couple of months ago, Pete was out on the road, and I was sitting in the living room reading when Frank came up to me and said, "Mom, can I have an advance on my allowance?"
"Sure, Frank," I said. "What do you want it for."
He turned sort of red, and I think that maybe he didn't want to tell me, but at the same time, we've always been really close, and I don't think that he liked the idea of keeping anything from-me.
"Well, mom," he said, "there's this girl at school, see, and I was thinking maybe she and I could go to the movies and then get a pizza or something."
"Anyway, here's the money," I said. "I hope that you have a nice time."
I guess being asked for money by one's son so that he can go out on a date shouldn't be such a big deal for a mother, even when it is the boy's first date, but somehow I really started having some confused feelings about all of this.
Here was my little boy, already growing up! I was proud of that, of course, but at the same time, it made me feel sad, too, like I was starting to get old. I wanted him to have a good time on the date, and behave like a man, but the thought that my shy, timid Frank might turn into someone like his father bothered me. Frank was the person I turned to when I found Pete's masculinity too overpowering. What would I do if he became aggressive and tough like Pete?
Frank's date wasn't until the next night, but I kept turning all these thoughts over in my head as I lay trying to go to sleep.
I wondered if Frank would have the nerve to make any real sexual advances to the girl. Would he put his hand on her soft tit and rub it? Would he ask her to place her hand on his crotch and feel the hard meat under the jeans?
My clit gave a little tingle, and I felt a bit of moisture ooze out of my cunt. I hadn't had a chance to see Frank's manly equipment in years, and I couldn't help wondering what it was like. Was it frail-looking like the rest of him? Or big and thick like my husband Pete's formidable whanger? Either way, the idea of it was pretty exciting. Without even thinking what I was doing, I slid my hand up my thighs and pressed it against the weltering moistness of my pussy.
A wonderful thrill of pleasure went zinging up my spine as my fingers pressed against the buttery womanflesh. When Pete was off on one of his trips I often masturbated, and so I didn't pay much attention to the fact that I was masturbating now while thinking about my son's prick.
Would Frank perhaps even get to go all the way with his date, and slide his cock into her cunt after popping her tender maidenhead? As I thought that, I pressed two of my fingers up into my cunt.
Mmmm, they felt so wonderful as they forced open the moist, silky insides of my womanhood, probing deeper and deeper into my body.
I suddenly realized that what I was doing was fantasizing about my son while beating off, and that made me feel kind of guilty, but I was already way, way too cranked up to be able to stop. I continued to rub my thumb around my cuntlips and clit, for instance, while the rigid little fun-button just screamed for more attention.
"Frank!" I thought, "Frank! I need your prick! I need your prick inside me right this minute! Ohhhhh!"
I was pressing the joints of the first two fingers of my right hand quite hard now against the walls of my cunt, and my cunt was loving every second of it!
"Prick! Prick! Prick!" I thought as I continued to picture my son's rod in my mind. My hips were jiggling back and forth on the bed now, and my other hand was really giving my tits a workout. Its fingers were gliding back and forth over the smooth surface of the .tit, tantalizing the nipple by circling in closer and closer to it before sliding away again. The nipples had responded by going as hard as pebbles. If only Frank were sucking on them, like a little baby! I took one of the nipples between my fingers and tweaked and pulled on it in imitation of a baby sucking.
I was right on the brink ... really hanging fire....
And then Brrrrrrrt! My cunt went off in a series of fast shudders that left me lying on the bed gasping for breath. Man! That had really been a fine come!
I pulled my fingers out of my cunt and licked them dry. Then, I rolled over and tried to go to sleep.
The trouble was that now that the sexual tension was all drained out of me. I started to feel really guilty about what I had just done. It wasn't the fact that I had beaten myself off which bothered me. Like I told you, Doctor, I've done that plenty of times before, and seeing as my husband is out of town so frequently, it doesn't seem to me that there's anything wrong with it. But what made me feel so bad was the fact that I had been thinking about Frank while teasing my womanflesh. The closer I had gotten to my come, the more and more explicit my fantasies had gotten, and just as I had my orgasm, I found myself imagining his cock in my mouth!
The more I thought about this, the more perverse it seemed for me to have gotten myself excited over my son in this way. I told myself that it was just a lapse on my part, and that I wouldn't let anything like it happen again.
Frank went out on his date the next night, and I tried to keep my mind off the fact. The trouble was that it wouldn't stay off of it. No matter how hard i tried to concentrate on my magazine, I couldn't help wondering what my little boy was doing with that girl he was taking out.
My hand kept wandering back toward my pussy, but I kept pulling it away, too. I was determined that I was not going to do anything like I had the night before. The idea! Beating off while thinking about my son's prick!
Frank got back at eleven, like he'd promised, and there was a self-satisfied look on his face that seemed to indicate that he had done pretty well with the girl. I was just dying of curiosity, but I knew that he might be really embarrassed if I came right out and asked him what he and the girl had been doing.
He disappeared upstairs, and I heard the bath water running. Even though he often takes a bath in the evening as well as one in the morning, I couldn't help wondering if the reason he was taking this one was that he was all sweaty after necking with his date!
Without really knowing what I was going to do, I went on upstairs too. The bathroom door was closed, and on an impulse, I bent down and tried to get a look at Frank through the keyhole. The only thing I could see was his feet, however, when of course it was his prick that I wanted to look at!
When he got out of the bath and started towelling himself, though, there was a good chance that he would be standing in front of the keyhole, so I knelt there waiting. I knew that what I was doing was terribly wrong, but I just couldn't help myself! Already, my panties were clinging wetly against my tender cunt-lips, and my clit was throbbing with come-need. All my good resolutions started to slip from me. My hand slipped up my thigh and pressed against the crotch of my panties.
Wow! I nearly came right then and there! That pressure just felt so fantastically good on my steamy pussy!
I heard a sloshing sound, and Frank's feet disappeared from view. He was getting out of the tub.
Then, he stepped over in front of the keyhole and started to towel himself.
Doctor, did I ever get a surprise! The rest of Frank's body may not have looked like his father's, but there was sure more than a slight family resemblance in the prick department. Frank wasn't hard, and his cock was swinging loose and easy as he towelled himself, but it was very, very long, and the thought of what it must be like once it was swollen up to its full size really made me gasp!
My hand was working away vigorously on my cunt, now, and I knew that I would be coming very, very soon. I could hardly stand to wait for my come, either, I was so fantastically excited by the sight of my son's naked body!
He stepped toward me, however, and just in time I guessed that he was going to be coming out of the door. I got to my feet and hurried off down the hall, reaching my bedroom door before the bathroom door clicked open. The time it had taken him to put on his bathrobe had been time enough for me to make my getaway. Certainly it would never have done for him to have opened the bathroom door and found me kneeling in front of the keyhole, feasting my eyes on his prick!
I was really aflame with desire, by now, particularly since my beat-off had been interrupted at the most critical point. I could have just lain back on my bed and continued from where I had left off, I suppose, but I was too keyed up to be able to content myself with that. I had to at least talk to Frank, at least get another look at his face, before he went to bed.
I went to his room and knocked on the door. He told me to enter, and I found him, still in his bathrobe, sitting cross-legged on the bed reading a model-railroad magazine.
"Hi, Frank," I said, "I just thought I'd come and say good-night. Did you have a nice time on your date?"
"Uh huh," he said, and blushed. I could tell that he was pretty proud of having gotten at least some physical action on his first date, but at the same time he was a bit embarrassed by having his mother bring the subject up, even indirectly.
"What was the girl's name?"
"Judy."
"Nice girl?"
"Uh huh."
"Not too stingy, I hope?"
"Stingy?" he asked.
"Sure," I said with a sly wink. "You know what I mean. Did she let you kiss her?"
"Uh huh."
"French kiss?"
"What's a French kiss?" he asked.
On an impulse, instead of telling him what a French kiss was, I decided to show him. His mouth was still open from his question, and I pressed my lips against it while sending my tongue darting against his.
I could feel him stiffen with surprise, but it was too late for me to turn back now. My right hand reached behind his head and pressed him closer. Suddenly, both his arms were reaching behind my back and holding me tightly.
He must have gotten pretty worked up on his date with Judy, but probably hadn't had a chance to actually fuck her. When I had entered he'd probably been thinking of beating off. So as soon as he felt my lips on his and my tits pressed against his chest, instinct just took over.
I was giving instinct a helping hand, too. My fingers had slid between the folds of his bathrobe and taken hold of his prick. All it took was a couple of squeezes for his organ to be as hard as a brick.
My cunt wasn't any less frantic, though, than his prick seemed to be. My panties were so wet that I really thought that my labia were going to get chapped, and my swollen tits pressed out hard against the confinement of the bra.
I pulled my mouth away from his and looked into his astonished eyes.
"You're pretty good, Frank," I said. "Better than your dad, as a matter-of-fact!"
While I said this, I was busy using one hand to unbutton my blouse, the other still being busy keeping his cock good and stiff.
I had to let go of his whanger momentarily, though, so as to undo the hooks of my bra. His eyes were glued to my maternal globes, and as I pulled the white fabric away, letting the cool air caress my milky tit-skin and inflamed nipples, I heard my son give a little gasp of ecstasy. I was sorry that undoing the bra was a two-handed job which had not allowed me to keep one hand on his cock, since I was sure that at that moment his tool must have swelled up to even greater dimensions.
"Would you like to suck my nipples, darling?" I asked softly. It was an invitation that didn't have to be repeated. Without a word, he clamped his lips around my left nipple and part of the surrounding breast, and started sucking away as if he really expected to find milk there.
I had breast-fed him when he was a baby, and the thought that his lips were back on my tits sucking away made a shiver zing up my cunt. My clit was just begging to be touched and loved, and my breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.
While he was giving my breasts their workout, I was unfastening my skirt and pulling down my panties. It felt so damn good to have my tender cuntlips free from the clinging wetness of the nylon, and it was even better to know that there was now nothing at all standing between my son and my eager pussy, for I had pulled his bathrobe open to expose his rampant cock.
Rampant was really the word, too, Doctor! I mean, the thing had seemed big just hanging loose there in the bathroom. But now it was rock-hard and ready for action.
"Frank," I whispered, "would you like to put your prick inside me?"
"Mom! Mom!" was all he could say in reply. That obviously meant "yes," but it seemed that he was so carried away by what was happening that I figured that maybe I had better take the lead as far as the fuck was concerned. After all, if he tried to run the show and had his prick go soft on him, for instance, the shame he would feel might really cripple him sexually for the rest of his life. Besides, my husband Pete never let me take any initiative at all in the bedroom, and I thought that it might be kind of fun to do so for a change.
"Lie on your back, Frank," I said, "and just don't worry. Mom'll take care of everything."
He looked relieved at the news that he would just have to play a passive role. Anyway, he did as I asked, and gave his prick a final squeeze of encouragement.
It was really such a big cock that it was hard to believe that it belonged to a thirteen-year-old boy. But instead of threatening to dominate me like my husband's prick did, it was just waiting there for me to do what I wanted with it.
I was naked too by now and knelt with a knee on either side of Frank's hips. Then, I took his cock in my fingers and pointed it straight up at my cunt, while I gradually lowered myself towards it.
Down I went, down ... down ... down....Finally I felt the tip of his penis press against my super-hot cuntlips. Man! You'd better believe it took me a bit of effort to keep from coming right then and there! To tease both myself and my son-I've always thought a bit of teasing is a nice part of foreplay-I waited for a moment, with Frank's prick-tip just grazing my labia. Then, I started sliding on down again.
The fleshy knob of Frank's penis forced open my labia and slid on into my cunt! My son's prick was actually inside my cunt! The idea of that really seemed exciting, too.
Down ... down ... down....I gave a long sigh of pleasure as I felt his whanger open me up inside, fill up my female inner space.
Finally I had all of his inside me, and I was resting on his balls. It felt so good, having that stiff rod resting in my cunt that for a moment I just sat there revelling in the virile hardness of my son's penis.
Then, I lifted myself up slowly and sat down again. Up ... down ... up ... down ... up ... down....
"Mom! You're so wonderful," he said.
I leaned over so that my tits hung near his face, and he took the globes in his hands and started to squeeze on them. I changed my motion slightly, making it more of a "forward-back" than an "up-down" motion, so as to leave my bazooms within easy reach of Frank's hands.
There was a glazed look about his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. That would have been sign enough of how turned on he was, but I had a lot more convincing sign than that between my thighs!
I know I should have been feeling really guilty about what I was doing, Doctor. Maybe a more normal woman would have. But the feel of my eager cunt contracting around my son's hard prick put all thought of guilt right out of my head. All that I knew was that every time I slid along his penis, I felt my tender labia get pulled in a wonderfully tantalizing way across my aching clit.
I was almost there ... almost ... almost....
"Mom!" Frank gasped....
I knew what he wanted to say, knew that he wanted to tell me that he was just about to come. The super stiffness of his prick made that fact pretty obvious! He was too excited to get the words out. I wasn't interested in words, anyway, as long as what he could get out was plenty of good, thick mancream!
The next stroke would do it, I was sure of that. I lifted my body up until just the tip of his prick was resting between the throbbing lips of my cunt. Then, d-o-w-n I came, while he let out a final, desperate "MOM!"
I felt my body go numb, and then suddenly, WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! My cunt was exploding all over my son's prick.
The feel of my trembling pussy-walls clutching desperately at his organ was enough to send him over the top. Even as my body heaved and shuddered, his cock sent spurt after spurt of hot spunk up into my most secret feminine recesses!
Gush! Gush! Gush! Gush! Man, oh man, it was just outasight!
I sat there on top of him for a minute or two while we both just panted and panted for breath. I couldn't help noticing that even though he had shot his wad, his cock was still staying very stiff as it rested inside me.
Finally, I eased myself off of his cock, and gave him a tender kiss.
"That was very, very nice, Frank," I said. "I really needed it. Thank you so much!"
Then, I headed back into my bedroom. The reason I had left so abruptly was that I just didn't know what to say to my son, now that the raging passion which had controlled both of us had subsided.
I lay on my bed and turned the light out. My mind was just whirling around and around.
I had fucked my son! Fucked my son! It seemed so terribly, terribly wrong. What kind of mother was I, anyway, to do a thing like that with my own boy?
At the same time, every time the words "fucked my son" went through my mind, my clit gave a little shiver of excitement. Even though I felt terribly ashamed about what I had done, I just couldn't convince myself that I hadn't enjoyed it. I had enjoyed it! It was such a relief after years of being humped by my husband to fuck with a male who allowed me to play an active role too. And the feel of that cock of Frank's sliding back and forth inside my pussy had really been something else!
I tossed and turned for hour after hour, and the more I did so, the guiltier I felt, and the more unsure about what I should do next.
I spent most of the next day thinking things over while Frank was at school. I finally decided that I should just count the experience of the night before as one of those things that sometimes happen, and to resolve really strongly not to fuck with my son again. Otherwise, I was afraid, I would risk destroying my marriage and really messing my kid up too.
So, when Frank came home, I said to him, "Frank, there's something that I meant to talk to you about last night, and this morning, too, but I guess that I just couldn't find any way of putting it into words."
The look he gave me showed plainly enough that he knew just what the "something" was, namely the fact that the night before his cock had spewed its load into his mom's hot cunt!
"Now what we did together last night was really wonderful," I went on, "and I really enjoyed it. But I really think that we should make it a one-time thing. Don't you?"
"I guess so, mom," he said. "I mean, if you say so, I guess that maybe we should."
That was all we said about the matter, and until my husband came home a couple of days later, we managed to keep our hands off of one another. I didn't even give my son any motherly good-night kisses, since I was afraid that I would lose control of myself if I did.
So, when Pete came home, I figured that the incident was closed, and that things could go on pretty much as they had before. Little did I know!
When Pete came home, the first thing that he wanted to do was fuck. He walked in the door, looked at me, and said, "Okay, woman, let's not waste any time."
I sort of resented being treated like that, but like Pve told you, Doctor, there's something in me that kind of likes that kind of he-man action. I went upstairs with him, and he humped me vigorously in the missionary position, which is the only position which he really likes.
He gave me a good, hard come, and I felt kind of relieved at that. I guess maybe I had se-cretely been afraid that after enjoying that fuck with Frank so much I might not be able to come with Pete any more.
So, it looked like everything was going okay, when I accidentally saw him with another woman. He'd said he was going out to spend an evening with the boys. I'd decided to visit a friend of mine, and on my way back from her house, I'd noticed a bunch of people going down the other side of the street. They were two couples, walking really close, and one of the men was Pete! He had his arm around some blonde floozy, and was apparently whispering sweet nothings to her. He didn't notice me.
I guess that maybe I should have gone across the street and confronted him, but he's so tough and manly, that I just didn't have the nerve to. So I headed home in a rage, saying to myself, "that fucking rat! I'll show him!" I knew just how to get even, and I guessed that since he would want to spend a lot of time with the broad he'd picked up, I'd have plenty of time to do what I wanted.
"Frank," I said, knocking on his door.
"Yes, mom?"
"Have you wanted to do what we did again?"
He looked down without saying anything.
"I have," I added. And I pressed my lips against his.
Man! Maybe the reason I went up to Frank's bedroom was so I could get even with Pete, but once our lips touched, pure fuck-need took over. I knew that I just had to have some more of my son's cock, and from the way he clutched at me, it was pretty obvious that he was more than willing to give it.
We Frenched for a while, and then I said, "Let's sixty-nine."
"What's that, mom?"
"I'll show you, as soon as we've gotten our clothes off." I helped him out of his shirt and pants while he removed my dress. Then I told him to lie back on the bed. I positioned myself facing the other direction, so that my cunt was right near his face. He's a bright boy, and so without my having to tell him to do so, he sent his tongue darting out against my labia.
I gave a shudder of delight and kissed his rock-hard prick, which was laying there in front of me. Amazingly, it managed to get even stiffer. Then, I slipped my lips around it and started to suck.
Boy, did that rod ever feel great between my lips! Since Pete doesn't much care for oral sex, I was sort of out of practice, though before I got married I'd had a boyfriend who liked blowjobs. Anyway, instinct is a pretty good teacher when it comes to sex, so I didn't have any trouble figuring out what to do. Besides, every time I succeeded in doing something really nice to Frank's prick, I could feel it quiver and give an extra little stiffening, so I was able to pick up new tricks by trial and error.
At first I sucked along the whole length of my son's dick. Then, I slid my lips back so that they were just touching the sensitive place where the knob joins the shaft. After driving Frank wild with a bit of that action, I moved my lips down to the base of his rod and teased that while fingering his balls.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! For someone who didn't even know what a sixty-nine was when he started he was sure learning fast! He started out by concentrating on my clit, but I guess the strength of the shudders I gave in response to that convinced him that if he wasn't careful, he'd have me coming too soon that way. So he eased up a bit and shifted his attack to my pink labia, which are really sensitive too, but to nothing like the same degree that my clit is.
After teasing my cuntlips for a while, he poked his tongue on down into my twat, pressing it against the cunt-walls as he did so. After leaving it there a moment, he suddenly pulled it out with a loud "slurp!" and I guessed from that what he was trying to do was get as much pussy fluid into her mouth as he possibly could. Apparently he was successful, too, since he repeated the action several times while my hips quivered.
Well, I wasn't exactly neglecting his cock, either. To tease it I took my lips all the way off of it while I sucked the balls. Then I popped it back in my mouth and continued to suck on it while using the tip of my tongue to give some added stimulation.
All the while, I had my hands on my breasts and was mashing and rubbing them, and pinching the swollen nipples.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! That tongue of Frank's was really driving me out of my mind. I could hear him sniff too. It was obvious that the smell of my cunt was really turning him on, and that he didn't want to miss a bit of it. Now smelling my cunt is the sort of thing that Pete would have just dismissed as "sissy", but it was obvious that Frank was enjoying himself, while giving me quite a lot of pleasure too.
I felt myself being wound tighter ... and tighter ... and tighter....
"I've got to come! I've just got to come!" I said to myself.
I would have said it out loud, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that my mouth was crammed full of hard prick!
I knew that just a bit of pressure on my clit would be enough to bring me off, and I suspected that Frank knew it too, since he had already shown himself to possess a considerable sensitivity about sex. I imagined that he was waiting for me to give the signal for us to come. I pressed my lips hard against the place where his prick-knob and prick-shaft joined, while running my tongue along the back of his cock. The big tool gave a final little stiffening, and started to shoot.
Frank had guessed what I was doing, so as soon as he felt his cock give that telltale extra little tensing, he rubbed his tongue hard against my clit.
MAN! Were we ever COMING! COMING! COMING! Two bodies, locked together, trembling, heaving, quivering to the force of a wild and frantic COME! COME! COME!
I just couldn't believe how much spunk he had, as his penis continued to shoot, and shoot, and shoot into my mouth. There was spunk between my cheeks and teeth, under my tongue, dribbling down my throat, and still he was firing away!
My pelvis bucked and heaved with the force of my orgasm, and he kept his face pressed against my soggy sex-skin, "riding" me.
At least we were done. We lay there for a moment resting, and then I very, very carefully slid my lips off of his prick. I didn't want to lose a drop of my son's precious spunk. I sloshed it around in my mouth, and then swallowed it, my clit giving a little quiver of delight as the creamy stuff glided down my throat.
That was all we had time for that evening, since we didn't want Pete to walk in on us, but from then on, we've fucked very regularly. Each time, I have a fantastic come, but each time, I feel so horribly guilty afterwards. The guilt has been getting so bad that I'm really having trouble sleeping at night. But I just can't give up sex with Frank! I just can't!
I had told Mrs. T. earlier that "aberrant" sexual behavior is often simply the manifestation of some other emotional problem, and it is obvious that such is the case here. Mrs. T.'s incestuous desires for her son stem in the first place from her very ambivalent feelings about her husband. She admits to being sexually stimulated by him at times, but she also fears and resents him. Such ambivalence is present to some degree in virtually all human relationships, but in the present case, it is particularly intense.
One reason that that is so is that Pete, Mrs. TVs husband, behaves in such an aggressively masculine way, though I would tend to see his "masculinity" as mostly bluff undertaken to reassure himself. Clearly, Mrs. T. is not really sure what it is that she wants in a husband, and she is equally uncertain about what she wants in a son.
Frank is frail and immature-seeming. Thus, his mother can compensate for all the sexual submission which she has had to show her husband by playing the aggressive role with her "little boy". She rationalizes her behavior in this respect in part as her duty to instruct her son sexually.
At the same time, however, she admires her son's large penis, and derives considerable physical satisfaction from its size and hardness. She wants a "little boy", but she wants him to be a big man at the same time.
Not surprisingly, the adolescent son is also confused about sexual roles. He is willing to play the passive part, allowing his mother to tell him when they will have relations and to decide what position will be used. But this very passivity is a means of manipulating his mother, since it fosters the psychological conditions in which she will want to have sex with him. Thus, paradoxical though it may seem, both Mrs. T. and her son are able to have their cake and eat it too.
The essentially immature way in which Mrs. T. uses sexual relations with her son to punish her husband for his infidelity well typifies her confusion as to what interpersonal responses should be like. She lacks a clear enough sense of her own worth to be able to confront Pete on the street, and instead uses sex as a weapon, thereby showing how little she appreciates the element of sharing which must be present in any successful sexual relationship. She may feel guilty about "corrupting" her son, but when the chips are down, she is perfectly willing to use him purely as an object, an instrument of vengeance.
It might be worth noting in passing that one reason Mrs. T. wants to see Frank as her "little boy" is that she herself is afraid of getting old. Masters, among others, has mentioned the importance of this. And finally, the fact that her husband was often away from home for rather lengthy periods introduced an element of sexual frustration into her life which was doubtless a contributory factor.
Although I am not one to look upon incest, or other forms of so-called sexual deviancy, for that matter, as horrors that must be rooted out, it seemed apparent to me that Mrs. T.'s ambivalency about men and her own sexual role was something which she would be much happier without, and I suggested intensive therapy. The causes of her confusion on these matters would take pages and pages to outline, but I was nevertheless able to help her towards a new, more solid conception of self. She became aware that her sexual relations with her son were a sort of psychological smokescreen, so she gradually lost interest in them. At the same time, she came to realize that she was locked into a no-win situation married to Pete, whose weak ego demanded a woman to dominate. She left him, and has slowly started to build a new life for herself. Frank, whom I saw for a while, did not appear to have suffered any trauma from the incestuous relationship he had been engaged in, and with my help was able to re-direct his sexual interest from his mother back to girls his awn age, which qas where it had been originally before his mother seduced him.
CASE HISTORY TWO
The state in which I practice is quite progressive in its treatment of juvelile delinquents, and is willing to pay psychiatric fees in cases where it appears that a young offender might benefit from therapy.
Jimmy R. came across at first glance as a typical "young punk". He obviously wanted very much to be thought of as tough, and so he sought to be as unco-operative as: possible. The first session with me he spent in total silence, refusing to open his mouth even once. On our second meeting, I decided to try and question him, since although spontaneous confidences are usually the most helpful in a psycho therapeutic situation, it was obvious that none would be forthcoming from sixteen-year-old Jimmy.
"Jimmy," I said, "you understand that the only thing I want to do is help you...."
"Shaddup, ya fuckin' shrink!"
"I hope you also realize that I have plenty of patients, that I do this work for the state for less than my regular fee, and that if you refuse to co-operate and the therapy is discontinued, it'll be no skin off my nose."
Stony silence.
"And if the therapy is discontinued, you'll probably be sent to the reform school."
"You'd recommend that, ya fuckin' shrink!?"
"No. I don't believe in reform schools, and besides, the state wouldn't be interested in my opinion on the subject. The authorities will ask if the therapy is making any progress, and I'll have to tell them that it isn't. I have no control at all over what they'll do then, but from past experience, I know what it'll be."
The same stony silence continued, but Jimmy shifted uneasily in his chair. It was obvious to him from my tone of voice that I was giving him the straight truth. He was weighing in his mind which alternative he liked least: co-operating with a shrink, or going to the reform school. He tried to compromise by talking in an un-helpful manner.
"You dumb shrinks are all the same," he yelled. "Jesus Christ, I bet there's no one in the world dumber than a shrink!"
As he ranted on and on, I pulled my antique pocket-watch out of my vest pocket and glanced calmly at it. I didn't say a word, but the meaning of the gesture was obvious: he could say what he liked, since rain or shine, I was going to get paid by the state. With many patients, the important first step is to build up trust. But with ones like Jimmy, it is first necessary to show that you won't stand for any nonsense. Which amounts to much the same thing, in fact, since people like Jimmy won't trust anyone whom they perceive to be weak and easily shoved around.
The little act with the watch had its effect, as it has in the past. (Which is one of the reasons I use a big pocket-watch to tell time instead of a wristwatch.) Jimmy's voice trailed off, and a sort of lost look came over his face. He didn't know what to do next.
Then he said to me, in a much quieter tone of voice, "You know, Doc, I'll bet you can't even begin to believe some of the things I've done."
"Why don't you tell me about them?"
"I've ripped off stuff, I've run a protection racket on smaller kids, I've...."
"I know, I read all about those things in your record," I interrupted.
"Listen, I've even ... even fucked my mother!"
From the tone of voice in which he said that, it was obvious that he was telling the truth.
"Well, that isn't in your record," I said, showing interest. "Why don't you fill me in on it?"
"You won't tell the law about it, huh?"
"Not a chance. Everything you say stays inside these four walls."
"Well, okay," he said, his voice indicating clearly that he was torn between delight at having an audience and nervousness at confessing something like incest, "this is how it happened...."
I've been running around with girls since I was maybe thirteen. Maybe even since I was a bit younger than that. I mean, I had a family reputation to keep up. My dad, he was always a real cocksman. He slept around plenty, and he didn't care who knew about it. Least of all mom. Mom hardly dared breathe without permission from him. He used to say to his pals, "If a woman's giving you too much lip, all you gotta do is fatten that lip up for her a bit."
Well, I'm like my dad. I mean, if I wanted a chick, I'd just take her. I don't mean that I ever raped one, 'cause I never had to. I'd just let 'em know that I was the kind of guy who expected to get what he wanted, and they'd respect me for it. That's the way girls are, as I'm sure you know, Doc.
Dad disappeared about a year ago, and I think mom was pretty glad of the fact. She sure never made any attempt to find him. She figured that he'd run off with some other broad, and that that was that.
Now in the days when dad was around, mom let him handle me. But as soon as he was gone, she really started trying to shove me around. Like, she'd tell me not to get home late, and shit like that. I mostly wouldn't pay much attention to her, but she'd tell me just the same.
One day, I was sitting around the house watching television, and she was going on and on about how I should pick up my things instead of leaving them for her.
I got tired of the noise level, and said, "Shut up. What do you think you're for, anyway?"
"Jim R., don't you dare talk to me like that!" she said.
Man, that really made me see red. About the easiest way to get me mad is. to tell me not to dare do something.
"You fucking bitch, don't you tell me what to do. I'll dare do anything I fucking well want. Including this!"
I think when I said that I meant to slap her in the face, but somehow I ended up pressing my mouth against hers and starting to French her. Just a nutty impulse, I guess.
She tried to shove away at first, but I was holding her too tight, and anyway, after about ten seconds of my Frenching, she suddenly went kind of limp in my arms, and her tongue started to respond to mine.
Man! You'd better believe that my prick started to cram up hard against my jeans. I mean, I'd always known that I was pretty good in the sex department, but any guy who can turn his own mom on like that really has to be something else! I held her even closer, and then slid my right hand up her dress until it was pressing against her panties. And those panties were plenty wet, too!
Her hips rotated slowly as I pushed my fingers against the soft flesh there between her legs. It was plain as piss that she was one hell of a turned-on broad!
I just kept Frenching and feeling her up, while we stood there. There's something nice about having a woman writhing around on top of your hand. It means that you're such a stud that even the kind of action your fingers-not your prick, but your fingers-can dish out is enough to make a broad lose all self-control. And this was my mom!
I really wanted to get that rod of mine into mom's cunt, but I figured that it would be nice first to bring mom off with a hand job. I mean, just think about it! Your mom nags you, so what do you do about it? You just grab her and feel her to a come!
I pressed my fingers against her fun-button-which I could feel without any difficulty through the soggy, clinging nylon of her panties-and her whole body quivered. I pressed it again, and suddenly she was trembling and heaving and gasping with the force of her come! I was so excited by what I had done that I just about went off in my pants right then and there too, even though my cock hadn't been getting any stimulation besides that of pressing out against the tight crotch of my jeans.
"Jimmy," she said, looking at me with her big, brown eyes, "you're fantastic ... you're just like your father ... but do you think that we should...?"
Shit, she'd already said that I was just like my dad, and I knew what he'd do in a situation like this. I simply picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, while she pressed her face against my chest. As you can see, I'm pretty big for my age, and she's sort of small, so I didn't have any trouble carrying her.
I lay down on the bed and started to pull off my clothes while she lay there expectantly.
"Take your clothes off, mom," I said, as I unzipped. The idea of using the word "mom" like that while pulling off my pants really turned me on to beat shit.
As soon as I got my zipper down, my cock pressed out hard against my underpants, and mom gaped as she saw what a bulge it made.
"Wait'll you see the whole thing, mom," I said, as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my underpants and pulled them down so that my prick was able to flop free, expanding to its full, rigid length as it did so.
"Pretty good, huh, mom?" I asked, as I stroked my tool.
She just licked her lips. That told me a lot about the kind of sex that dad must have gone in for, and I was looking forward to having mom blow me, but first I just had to get my rod off inside that warm little twat of hers.
"Missionary?" she asked.
"Yup."
She lay back on the bed and slowly spread her legs. Man, you'd better believe that I had a hard time keeping from coming when I saw that cunt of hers for the first time. I mean, it was a really nice cunt, and shit man, it was my mom's cunt! That was where I was born sixteen years ago. That little pink patch with the light brown fluff around it was home base, man!
My cock was so fucking stiff that it really ached. Well, I knew one way of getting rid of that ache.
"Please be gentle, Jimmy," mom said in a timid little voice.
"Don't worry, mom," I reassured her. "I've done plenty of fucking, so I guess maybe I know a thing or two about it."
I placed myself on top of her, and positioned my cock. It felt like it was about to burst. I really wondered how I was going to insert it in mom's twat without it going off right away.
I took a deep breath, and prodded gently at the cuntlips. They parted, of course, and there my meat was, sliding on into mom, going home after sixteen years! Mom covered her face, but I could tell from the gasp she gave that she was really enjoying all this. You know how women are, Doc. They like to be degraded a bit.
In I went, really slowly, because I knew that my whanger was so supercharged that it would go off at once if I was the least bit careless with it.
One last shove, and I had my prick buried to the root. Now, in case you're wondering, or even if you aren't, I have one hell of a long prick. So long, that as it rested there inside mom's bod, I could feel the knob press against the entrance to her womb. And man, if you don't think that doesn't make a guy feel like a million bucks, to know that his tool's so fucking long that there's hardly enough room for it in the woman's pussy! .
"Shall I fuck you, mom? Would you like that?" I asked her.
"Please Jimmy! Please fuck me! I need it!"
"What do you need, mom?"
"Your prick, Jimmy! I need your prick!"
That was all I needed to hear. I don't know why, but whenever I'm fucking, I always like to make the broad ask for my prick, and I'll usually wait until she does, even if I'm really desperate for a come myself.
Now that mom had told me she needed my meat, I was more than ready to get going. I pulled back really, really slowly, and then shoved home good and hard.
"You like, mom?"
"You're so fine, Jimmy...." I pulled out again, and then gave another shove, and another, and another. I was starting to hit my stride now, pumping away regularly with my hips.
Mom wasn't just lying there like a corpse, either. I mean, she comes on like a really timid broad, but once you start fucking her, she knows all the moves. Every thrust of mine got a sort of counter-thrust from her hips, and the result was that pretty soon my cock started feeling just so-o fine.
In! Out! In! Out! Man oh man, was I ever going now, I was pounding, man, really pounding, and I could tell from my mom's gasps and sighs that she was loving every goddamn thrust that I was giving her with my big, hard dork.
"Gotta come, Jimmy! Make me come! Make me come!" she pleaded as my rod pulled her cuntlips over her clit time after time after time.
Well, I wasn't quite ready to come myself, and besides, I know for a fact that broads like to be made to wait for it a bit. So I didn't pay any attention at all to mom, but just kept bucking away.
My hands weren't taking a vacation, either, you can believe that. Mom's thirty-five, and she still has about the nicest pair of tits I've ever seen on any broad. Nice and high and firm, with great big huge nipples that really get enormous once you turn her on.
I had taken both her mounds in my hands and was really squeezing and rubbing them. Not enough to hurt them, but enough to let her know that I was really interested in them. I would have liked to. have licked and kissed them, but one of the troubles with the missionary position is that you can't get at the tits very easily. As it was, every now and then I'd stop pumping away and sort of rear up so I could get a good view of mom's globes.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! cock-in-cunt! cock-in-cunt! Cock-in-cunt! Man oh man, did I ever have rhythm, and you'd better believe it was driving mom out of her freaking mind. Her head was tossing from side to side, her face was covered with sweat, and she wasn't really saying anything any more. She was just making funny little female sounds. Her cunt was going wild.
My cock couldn't take much more of this either. I felt it try and stiffen up even more, despite the fact that there was just no way it could do so. And my balls were really jammed up tight against my prickroot, too.
I could tell that a couple of more strokes would be enough to send both mom and me over the top. And I was determined to make them good strokes, too.
I pulled my cock way, way back, until only the very end of it was resting between mom's soaking wet cuntlips. Then I shoved in good and hard. Mom's whole body shook, and I knew that the next one would do it.
Back I went again, and this time I drove home really, really slowly.
In ... in ... in ... in....
Mom gritted her teeth, and so did I as I felt her cunt-walls part to let my turgid dork into her.
In ... in ... in....
Suddenly, I was shooting away like there was no tomorrow, and the feel of my cock trembling and gushing inside her was more than enough to set mom off too. Her cunt gave a whole series of spasms around my quivering dick, while she gasped "COMING! I'M COMING!"
Was she ever! I'd fucked plenty of high school girls before fucking mom, but none of them ever cut loose like she did. She was panting like a locomotive, her shoulders were heaving, and her cunt was really clutching at my prick, as if it wanted to draw every possible drop of spunk out of it!
Finally my cock gave a last gush, and her cunt gave a last quiver and the fireworks were over. I lay there on top of mom gasping for breath, and she was gasping too. It had been one hell of a fuck.
Now I'm not the sentimental sort, so I don't know why I did this, but as mom lay there panting, her face looked so beautiful that I gave her a little kiss on the forehead, and that really made her smile, too. Normally, when I fuck a broad, I don't do anything to encourage them to get too sentimental.
Finally, I pulled out and said, "Thanks, mom. You were pretty good."
She winced a bit, as if that was kind of a come-down from the kiss on the forehead, but she didn't say anything.
That was all the fucking we did that night, but boy, you can guess how proud of myself I felt. I mean, my dad was apparently quite a cocksman, and it looked like I was able to fill his shoes, or maybe it would be more accurate to say fill his wife's cunt! It was perfectly obvious from the way mom had gasped and grunted while I'd been fucking her that I'd given her one hell of a bang. I decided that I'd really have to ask her who was the better cocksman, me or my dad. I figured that I'd probably come out on top.
Now, it did feel kind of funny knowing that I'd fucked my mother, but hell's bells, she sure hadn't put up much of any resistance. I mean, if a cunt is going to be that hungry for a fuck, what can a guy do?
The next day, I had a date with a girl from school. I'd fucked her before, and though it had been some time ago, I remembered that she had been a pretty good lay. I was a bit tempted to break the date and stay home and fuck mom, since that seemed a more exciting prospect, but then I decided that it would be interesting to fuck Linda by way of comparison. In fact, I might even come home and give mom a bit of action afterwards. I've always prided myself on being the kind of guy who can dish out as much prick action as the girls can handle.
Linda and I saw a movie, and then went over to her place. Her parents weren't home, and I figured that we'd be able to fuck away without any fear of being interrupted.
Things started off pretty well. Linda's always been the sort of girl who really likes fucking, so there weren't many boring preliminaries to go through. When I told her to take off her sweater, she smiled at me and did so without giving me any crap.
She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, so the sweater pulled her tits up as she peeled it off, then let them flop down.
They were fine tits, too, and I could see from the way the nipples stood up against the creamy skin that she was more than ready for whatever I had to offer.
My cock felt like it had plenty to offer, too. I pulled off my pants and let my cock flop out into the open. It was good and hard, and the look on Linda's face told me that she was eager to have it sliding away inside her pussy.
I kissed her tits and felt them up, and then after we'd messed around a bit, I told her to get on her hands and knees, since I wanted to fuck her dog-style.
I've always liked fucking dog-style, and I eagerly positioned my cock. It was still hard when I slid it in, but after about the third or fourth stroke, I couldn't help noticing that the pressure was going down.
Shit! Nothing like that had ever happened to me before! I gritted my teeth and pumped away, but it was obvious that my cock was starting to get soft.
I pressed and squeezed her tits somre, in the hope that the feel of those luscious globes in my hands would do the trick, but no dice. I was really kind of panicky now, and that just made things worse.
"What's the matter, Jimmy?" Linda asked as I pulled my limp cock out of her pussy.
"Shut up, if you don't want a poke in the mouth!"
"Sorry. I just wondered if...."
"I said shut up! Dumb broad! Shit, you don't even know how to fuck properly! You think a guy could keep his rod stiff inside you? I've fucked livelier corpses!"
She didn't say anything to that, but there was a kind of stubborn look in her eye that indicated that she didn't think it was her fault I'd gone flat. To tell the truth, I didn't think it was either, and that was just what worried me! The only reason I'd said that was that I figured I had to say something in the circumstances!
I pulled on my clothes and headed out the door. Whatever was wrong, I wasn't going to stick around and make a fool out of myself in front of Linda any more.
I was really mad when I got home. Mad at everyone, and mad at myself.
"Did you have a nice time, dear?" mom asked as I walked in.
I didn't say a word. Instead, I just took her by the waist and lowered her to her hands and knees. On the way home, I'd decided that if I didn't want to be permanently ruined, I had to have a quick success. And I'd thought of fucking mom as soon as I got home, and the idea had made my prick stiffen in my pants, so I'd figured that it must be a pretty good idea.
Mom didn't say anything. She must have known what was coming, and I think she was glad of it. Something about the way she'd wished me a nice time when I'd left for my date had seemed to indicate that she was a bit jealous of the girl I was going out with.
I knelt behind her and flipped her skirt up over her waist. Then, I pulled her panties down and rammed my cock in the exposed cunt.
This time I was really hard, and I knew I was going to be able to stay the course, too. Don't ask me how I knew. I just did. After the humiliation with that chick Linda, it really felt good to be sliding my cock confidently back and forth inside a pussy, and to feel how hard that cock was!
I reached forward and undid the buttons on the front of mom's dress. She had a bra on underneath, but I soon had it unfastened, and her fine tits dropped out. I took them and pressed them against her chest. They felt so feminine and delightful, just as her cunt felt feminine and delightful. I let go of them so that they could flop down again, and then I took the nipples and started to pull and tweak them. They were already swollen, but that didn't mean that I wasn't able to make them swell some more.
Mom was panting away, clearly enjoying everything I was giving her, and I was so relieved to know that I was able to perform again, that I was giving her plenty. I don't think I've ever fucked a female as vigorously as I fucked mom just then.
In! Out! In! Out! Man! Man! Man!
"Jimmy ... so fine! So fucking fine!" mom gasped.
Well I was fine, and it sure was a relief to know that after the little disaster that I'd had earlier that evening.
I was just about there ... just about....On one hand, I wanted to come, so that I could chalk the fuck up as a success, as proof that I could still hack things in the prick department. But at the same time, it felt so good to be hard like this, that I wanted to just keep fucking, and keep fucking, and keep fucking....
I wasn't going to be able to hold back too much longer, though, that was obvious from the tingling sensations creeping up and down my spine and from the way in which my balls were pulled up so tight against the root of my prick. And mom was going to be coming very soon too, no matter what I did.
Buck! Buck! Buck! My cock seemed to go numb for a second, and I knew I was right on that funny pre-come plateau. Then, I felt my cock flood with sensation, and it was shooting away to beat the band, sending gob after gob of my sperm up into mom's pussy!
"This is what you're missing, Linda!" I said to myself, as I spurted away.
I wasn't the only one enjoying himself, either! The moment my prick had started to shoot, mom's cunt had began contracting furiously around it in a series of frantic come-spasms, while she let out a long, low moan.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! We were coming together, coming so hard, coming so fucking fine!
"That was a beautiful fuck, Jimmy," mom murmured as I pulled my meat out of her.
"Was it as good as dad gave you?"
There was a moment's hesitation, and that annoyed me.
"Well," I asked, "was it?"
"Yeah," she said slowly, and it was obvious from her tone of voice that she wasn't just saying that, but that she was really trying to remember what dad's fucking was like, so that she could make a real comparison.
Anyway, that really made me feel like such hot shit that my prick started to give another twinge, even though it had come only a very little while before. I felt like I could give her another fuck right away, but at the same time I thought that maybe it would be better if I didn't press my luck.
"If you've got no objections, I'll get a beer out of the refrigerator, and then we can do some more fucking after that," I said. That was just a manner of speaking, since she bought the beer for me, and I didn't have any reason to expect that she'd have any objections to my drinking it. Besides, I wouldn't have been very interested in her objections if she had had any.
My iead was to let my cock rest up while I drank the beer, and then go back to work. Normally, I can manage one fuck right on top of another, but that business of being impotent with Linda had given me a pretty bad scare, and I knew that being scared sometimes even makes you more impotent. I didn't want to take any chances.
So I sat on the sofa and drank my beer while talking with mom about sex. She assured me that I was really good, and since I knew I was being measured against dad, and his reputation had always been that of an A-l cocksman, that made me feel pretty good. So good, in fact, that my cock was almost completely erect again before I'd gotten half the beer drunk. And by the time I finished the can, I knew that I was ready for action as a guy can possibly be.
"Let's sixty-nine, mom," I said. I don't know why, but oral sex is something that's always kind of turned me on. And maybe in the back of my mind was the thought that when a broad's giving you a blow job, you don't need quite such a stiff prick as you do for a regular fuck. Like I told you, I was scared that I'd find myself unable to hack it and that this would make me so scared that I'd never be able to fuck again.
Mom lay down on the floor, and I lay next to her. Her cunt sure looked fine from close up, with its delicate pink labia glistening with female fluid, and its tufts of nice hair. I took a good, deep whiff through my nose. I've always thought that the smell of a cunt is just about the nicest thing in the world. And mom's cunt had a particularly nice, rich odor. As I sniffed it, I felt my cock swell up even more. I was really ready, and I could guess that mom was too.
My tongue darted out and touched the pink cuntlips. That sent a little shiver through mom's pelvis. I licked again, and got exactly the same result. It was obvious that despite the good, hard fuck that I'd given her only a few minutes earlier, mom was really hot to trot.
As I licked away, enjoying the salty taste of the cunt-juice, I felt mom's lips press around the knob of my penis. Now it was my turn to feel little shivery sensations.
Mom slid her lips farther and farther along my cock, until the whole thing was resting inside her mouth. That meant that the end of it was pressing against the roof of her mouth way back near the entrance to her throat. I would have thought that that would have made her gag, but it didn't seem to. She rubbed her lips against the root of my cock, and that was really something else too!
I pulled my tongue back and forth over her glistening cuntlips. I wasn't going to let her outdo me in technique, that was for sure. Then, I poked my tongue on down into her cunt, as if it were some kind of flexible prick. I rubbed the tip of my tongue against the cunt walls, and all the while was sniffing away at the fine female odors that were meeting my nose.
It felt so fine to have her cunt pressing against my tongue like that. Just the idea that my tongue was buried way deep in her womanhood was one hell of a turn-on for me.
Then, I pulled my tongue up quickly into my mouth. That way, I carried plenty of cunt-juice along with it, and cunt juice was one thing that I didn't think I'd ever be able to get enough of.
Suck! Suck! Suck! Mom was just driving me out of my ever-loving mind with that lip-action of hers! Every time she pressed her lips together around my shaft, I felt sure that I was going to come, but somehow she kept me hanging right on the brink.
Suddenly, I felt my cock go sort of numb, and I knew that I was going to be coming very, very soon. Well, I wasn't going to be outdone, either, so at that moment I flicked my tongue hard against her clit.
Flick! Flick! Flick! And on the third flick, her pussy started shuddering and heaving against my face.
My cock was going off too, pumping away, but I was more interested in that patch of warm, wet flesh bucking in front of me. I pressed my lips against her cunt as if I were kissing a mouth, and thrilled to the feel of her trembling pelvis. I was the guy who'd wound her up like that! Me! That's who!
Finally her cunt quieted down, and I continued to lick for a moment. Her cuntlips were really awash with pussy fluid, and I sure didn't want any of it to go to waste. But it was impossible for me to lick her dry, because the more I licked, the more stuff oozed out of her cunt.
As I took my mouth away from her soggy pussy, she, slid her mouth off of my cock. She got up, and so did I, and she opened her mouth slightly so I could see how much spunk I'd shot into it. I was a bit surprised, and very pleased, that I'd had such a good second shot left.
Then, she swallowed my jism, and the smile on her face told me just how much she liked doing that!
Well, I went to bed that night pretty well satisfied with myself. It was true that I'd had some trouble earlier in the evening, but that all seemed long past now. After all, I'd given mom a very good workout, and there could be no doubt about that at all.
The next thing to do was to try out my newly-recovered potency on some other broad. It didn't make sense to me that I might be able to fuck mom and nobody else, since I'd certainly fucked plenty of females before I'd ever gotten my whanger inside mom's twat. But I guess there was maybe a slight nagging doubt on that score which I really wanted to clear up for good.
I chose a chick named Janet for my next date. She and I'd had some good times together, and I kind of liked her style of fucking. Also, she'd always thought really a lot of me, and I figured that it would be easiest for me to fuck a chick who assumed that she was going to get a good fuck from me, and who I didn't have to prove anything to.
Well, Doc, maybe you've guessed what happened: same thing as with Linda. Well, not really the same thing, since with Linda I had been able to get stiff at first without any trouble, and had simply had trouble keeping the pressure up for the duration of the fuck. But with Janet, I wasn't able to get any action out of my rod at all. She fondled it, and sucked on it, and did heaven only knows what else, but it just lay there and sulked.
This time, I was so worried that I didn't try and put on a big front like I had with Linda. I just said, "Hell, I guess some nights things don't work out."
Shit, was I depressed! I walked home really slowly, wondering what the hell was wrong. I could fuck mom. That much I knew. But it looked like I wasn't going to be able to fuck anybody else, not for the time being, at any rate.
When I got home, I felt too low even to fuck mom. I just went up to my room and lay on my bed in the dark, wondering what the fuck had gone wrong. I'm a guy who's always set a lot of store by being hot shit in the prick department. And here I was unable to fuck anyone except my mother!
I was still pretty depressed when I woke up in the morning, as you can probably imagine. But I had made a decision during the night as I lay in bed worrying. Maybe for the time being I wasn't able to fuck anyone else but mom, but that didn't mean that I was going to let my sex-life just shrivel up and die. This impotence thing had come on really fast, and I had some reason to hope that maybe it would go away again just as suddenly. And I wasn't going to waste time while waiting for it to go away, either. I was going to keep fucking mom, who was a pretty good lay, and I was going to keep practicing my technique with her, so if ever my problem disappeared, I'd be even better as a cocks-man than I had been before.
Now up to this time I'd done plenty of fucking, but it had all been pretty standard stuff. Missionary, sixty-nine, dog-style. That was really about it. But I was going to learn some really tricky new stuff that would give me a sex quotient higher than any other stud around.
There was an adult bookstore downtown that I sometimes went into. I guess I look like I'm eighteen, so the guy doesn't hassle me about my age. Anyway, I got a book there that was supposed to be an illustrated encyclopedia of sex positions. Some of them were really pretty wild. The chick in the photos was fine looking, too, and I beat off looking at the pictures as soon as I got home.
Then, I started to study the book.
That evening, after supper, I said to mom, "How about some fucking?"
"Sure, if you want, dear," she said.
"Dad ever fuck you standing up?" I asked.
"No, not that I recall."
"Well, let's see how you like it. I've never tried it myself, but I think it may be pretty good. It's something I dreamed up by myself."
As soon as we had out clothes off, I told mom to stand with her back to the wall and her feet about twenty inches apart, so that her thighs were open and her cunt accessible. The I moved up and stood in front of her. To my relief, my cock was as hard as granit. At least with mom I was still okay in the prick department.
I bent my knees slightly, which had the effect of lowering the level of my prick. This enabled me to maneuver it between her legs. Then I straightened up again, so that the head of my cock slid on into her.
I stood there for a moment, with both of us enjoying the way in which our sex-organs were locked together. Then, by flexing my knees, I was able to move my body, and thus my cock, up and down inside mom's cunt.
"Feel good?" I asked.
"You bet," she said, as she felt my rigid tool press her cunt walls apart again and again.
After a while, I stopped pumping, and bent my knees slightly. This enabled her to take over the business of doing the sex movements. We alternated that way, each of us doing a few strokes and then turning things over to the other. That was kind of fun, particularly as we were taking this nice and slowly.
One of the fine things about this position was that since my body wasn't resting on hers, it was very easy for me to reach my hand in between us and take hold of her tits. As far as I'm concerned, a woman's tits are almost the nicest thing about her. Not quite as good as the cunt, maybe, but almost.
Up! Down! Up! Down! We were really starting to get pretty turned on by all this. It was the kind of position that grows on you, if you know what I mean.
My cock was starting to get pretty frantic, and I knew that I would be coming soon. Mom's eyes had a certain glazed quality which I knew pretty well, so it was clear that we were getting pretty near our blastoff.
Up! Down! Up! Down!
I caught my breath and tensed for my come. One more stroke would do it.
With mom panting on the end of my rod, I slowly shoved it back up into her.
One fourth in ... half in ... three fourths....
I felt it give a final little stiffening, and then it was pumping its load of cream with hard, throbbing pulsations while mom's pussy quivered and clutched at my eager tool!
I had a beer to rest up a bit, and then I said to mom, "How about some dog-style action?"
"Fine with me," she answered, getting onto her hands and knees.
As a matter-of-fact I had a little surprise in store for mom. While she was waiting there on her hands and knees, I went onto the bathroom and rubbed haircream all over my dork. Then I positioned myself right behind mom.
"Hurry up, darling," she said, "my cunt really needs that rod of yours!"
Well, it wasn't her cunt that was going to get it! As she knelt there, I positioned my tool against her rectum, and shoved on it. Her ass was good and tight, but I didn't have any trouble getting into it, owing to the haircream.
"Jimmy!" she gasped as she felt my piston slide up her tail! Something about that gasp indicated pretty clearly that she was enjoying this new sensation, however.
I rammed my cock as far up her butt as it would go, and then, after resting there a minute, I started to pump away.
Fucking a woman's ass is really kind of different in some ways from fucking her cunt, since the ass doesn't lubricate itself. But as long as your cock is well greased, it can still be a lot of fun.
And of course the tits are just as available as they are when you doing a regular dog-style fuck. Even as I pumped away, I clutched at her breasts with my hands and gave them all sorts of different squeezes. The nipples were swollen up to about twice their normal size, but I kept rubbing and stroking them anyway to see if I could make them even bigger.
"Fuck me! Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass!" she gasped as I continued to ley it into her with my whanger.
It occurred to me that there was a way in which I could give her even more stimulation than I was. I continued to press her luscious tits with my right hand, but I moved my left hand down so that it could cup her crotch.
"Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" she moaned, shaking her head from side to side, as I continued to give her the three way action. Down between her legs, everything that was sensitive was being stimulated, and her breasts were getting the full treatment as well.
I was sure happy to be giving her what she wanted too. My cock felt so goddam stimulated that I kept thinking that it might go off at any minute. But I have pretty good self control, and so even though every nerve in my body was aching for a chance to get it off, I was able to hang on and keep bucking away at mom's anus.
As I rubbed and stroked her pussy with my fingers, I could tell from her shuddering reaction that she was very, very close to her come. All I'd have to do would be to give an extra little tweak to her clit in order to bring her off right away.
My cock felt like it couldn't possibly wait even a second longer, so I gave a final thrust while pressing mom's little fun-button between my thumb and forefinger.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Man, oh man, were we ever coming! Mom's whole body felt like it was going to shake itself apart, and my cock was really spewing. I know that I've had some troubles in the prick department, but that's just a matter of keeping the fucking thing stiff. My balls sure as hell have a second shot in them, there can't be any doubt about that.
Two's my limit, though, so after I finished shooting and pulled my cock out of mom's ass, I went into the bathroom to clean it off, and that was the end of that fucking session.
I don't want you to think from what I've said that the only fucking I know how to do is that which I've learned from that book I got out of the library. There are things that I've invented myself. For instance, have you ever fucked with ice? It's really neat. One day, mom and I were about to fuck, when the idea of using ice for the preliminaries hit me. I went into the kitchen and brought back a bowl of the stuff, giving a cube to mom.
"What's this for?" she asked.
In answer, I just pressed the ice-cube against her nipple. She gave a little gasp and shoved her cube against my prick.
The sensation you get from having ice placed in spots like that is really kind of special. The ice isn't cold enough to be painful, but it is stimulating. And when you take it away, your skin really tingles, just like it does when you come in from outside on a cold day and hold your hands over a hot radiator. Mom and I really had a great time pressing our ice-cubes all over each other's bodies. Then, we went on to have a hell of a good fuck....
Jimmy R. would seem at first sight to have almost nothing in common with the timid Margaret T. of the first case, but in a sense, their underlying problem is the same: a monumental lack of sexual self-confidence. Indeed, Jimmy's bluster and intentional insensitivity were signs of insecurity every bit as clear as Mrs. T.'s efforts to find in her son a sexual partner who would not dominate her.
In our society, with its emphasis on he-man behavior, men who wish that they were more sure of their potency often try and reassure themselves by affecting the brutal insensitivity which our motion pictures, novels and television shows have long (and of course, quite falsely) suggested is fundamental to masculinity.
Taking a cue from his father, Jimmy R. has succeeded in totally isolating himself from the possibility that women might in fact be human beings with feelings of their own. This is comforting to him, since he feels most deficient. By regarding women merely as objects existing for his sexual gratification, he manages to neatly sidestep the question of whether or not they might like him as a person.
For small children, the mother is really a rather awe-inspiring person, and traces of this awe linger on subconsciously in grown men, finding its outlet in a fear of feminine rejection. For reasons doubtless associated with his childhood experiences, Jimmy R. is weighted down by this awe, and seeks to neutralize it by demoting his mother to the status of sex object.
That kind of game only works if one can find another person willing to play it, and in the present situation, the importance of Jimmy's mother's behavior can hardly be overstressed. As soon as her dominating husband left her, she began to nag and annoy her son, apparently so as to call forth the "virile" response which she in fact got. Whether an actual incestuous relationship is more than she bargained for is another point, but as soon as a substitute for her domineering husband appeared, she acquiesced totally in playing the role which he assigned to her.
Jimmy R. defined his own virility in terms of dominating women. But this could not alter the fact that he himself was very unsure of that virility. Since anxiety is a major component of impotence, we should not be surprised to see the seemingly virile Jimmy having problems in this respect. Though that is not the whole story. One reason that people engage in "deviant" behavior is that they are afraid of being unable to manage conventional sexual-interpersonal relations. Thus, impotence is often associated with sexual abnormality in a selective manner. The individual feels most comfortable with a particular (deviant) form of sexual behavior, and secretly wishes to limit himself to it. Forces present in the conscious compel him to continue other forms of sexual behavior which he enjoys less. The subconscious sabotages these other forms of sexual behavior, however, leaving the individual free to concentrate on his real preference. Karpman cites a man who went from incest through various fetishistic paraphilias, and noted that "the paraphilic picture grows as his potency declines."1 With his totally passive mother, Jimmy feels most sexually secure, and his subconscious is working to ensure that he will not have to face up to other, more threatening sexual situations. Tendencies such as these develop slowly, it might be noted, so the reader should not be surprised at the fact that Jimmy earlier had no difficulty having sexual relations with women other than his mother.
An interesting question is the relationship, if any, between Jimmy's incestuous behavior and his generally anti-social lifestyle. Various interpretations are possible, such as one which would see the delinquency as an outlet for repressed guilt feelings. After a number of sessions with Jimmy, however, I came to the conelusion that he really felt little guilt about the fact that he had sexual relations with his mother. One is reminded of Bromberg's words to the effect that "incest offenders do not have the neurotic reflections of other sexual criminals; responses are less clouded by evasion and complete denial. They seem to consider incest as essentially normal, not so reprehensible as perverted sexuality, but a mature form of hetero-sexuality."2
My own feeling is that the juvenile delinquency did not result from the incest, but like it stemmed from Jimmy's fundamental feelings of inadequacy. Being a "tough guy" with the cops was like being a "tough guy" in his dealings with women: it helped reassure him that he wasn't just a nobody.
It goes without saying that with a patient such as Jimmy, the deviant sexual behavior, which is purely symptomatic of deeper problems, is almost the least of his problems. Jimmy's real problem is that he is such a terribly insecure, frightened individual that he feels compelled to engage in behavior which may offer his some temporary reassurance, but which also cuts him off all hope of having really meaningful interpersonal relationships. Submissive women such as his mother will probably always be available to him, but at his present level of psychological development, he will only be able to enjoy them in a physical way. The deeper pleasures of love and sharing will remain things which he cannot even begin to comprehend, for he insists on seeing them as signs of "weakness" and "effeminacy".
In a case like this, the job of the therapist is to try and find the origins of the underlying feelings of insecurity, in the hope that it will then be possible to deal with them. As a byproduct, the symptomatic behavior (which in this case is incestuous) will disappear.
Jimmy's case is certainly a challenging one, and it is too early to say what the chances are for a successful resolution of his difficulties. I have helped worse cases than his, however, and since he appears to be increasingly willing to cooperate with me, it would be foolish to write him off as hopeless. Foolish and inhuman.
CASE HISTORY THREE
Many of the people who come to me because they are engaging in sexually "abnormal" behavior are stricken with guilt, and wear the guilt all over their faces. Such was certainly not the case with Jane A., an elegant brunette in her late thirties.
She wore a vary simple, very expensive-looking dress, and was carefully coiffed and made up. She looked relaxed as she sat opposite me, and in no way abashed by the fact that she was in a psychologist's office.
"To tell the truth, Doctor," she said, "I really don't know if I should be here or not. I certainly don't feel sick."
"But whether you feel sick or not, do you have reason to think that you might be?" I asked.
"Um, not really," she said, crossing a shapely pair of legs. "But I suppose that might depend on how one defines sick, right, Doctor."
"True."
"To come right out with it, I fuck with my three sons. I enjoy it a lot, and for that matter, so do they. Maybe I should be overwhelmed with guilt feelings at having violated the incest taboo, but I'm afraid that I'm not."
"So why have you come to see me?" I asked.
"Well, this incest thing doesn't really bother me, but I'm afraid that it might have been some kind of harmful effects on my boys. I don't know all that much about psychology, you see. And I thought that maybe you could advise me on whether or not it might be best for my sons if I were to discontinue the incestuous relationship. If that is what you think, then I shall break it off at once, though I must admit that the things they can do to my cunt really are pretty nice!"
I had to admit to myself that I was really rather impressed with Mrs. A. Many patients, particularly during the first sessions, try and keep up a super-cool act. It reassures them and makes them feel less vulnerable. But acts like that are almost as easy to see through as they are to dismantle, and the dismantling is an indispensible part of the therapy.
"Mrs. A. was clearly different. She was obviously a woman who had a great deal of self-confidence and a great deal of self-perception too. The reasons she gave for coming to see me were clearly genuine-she wanted to be sure that her incestuous relations with her sons weren't doing them any psychological harm.
"Well, Mrs. A.," I said, "before I can answer your question I'll have to know everything you can tell me about your relations with your sons and how they got started."
"Fair enough," she said, and began her story....
My husband Rick died about three years ago. He was one of these really driven executives who work themselves straight into a heart attack. For that reason, he'd never had terribly much time for his family, though I have to admit that he was a pretty good cocksman.
Out of respect for him, I put my sex life on ice for a while after his death-by that, I mean that I didn't look for a replacement, since I'd always been faithful to him-but I certainly didn't mean to give up on fucking at the age of thirty-nine. I have a sensitive cunt, and I enjoy having a man shove his cock up it. So, after a few months mourning, I started to date, and whenever the guy seemed like an okay sort of fellow, I'd be willing to give him a tumble.
I got all sorts of different pricks in me that way, all the way from wet noodles to iron bars, handled with skill ranging from hopeless to superb. I wasn't ready to remarry, though, because I figured that the guy who was going to be stepfather to my kids should be well-off and have a really nice personality.
Well, one Saturday, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, since the guy I had been counting on to take me out had come down with flu. I had to spend a quiet evening at home wishing that I were somewhere else.
I got a very slight headache, and decided to get some aspirin from the bathroom. My eldest son, Roger, who's sixteen, had gone to take a bath earlier, but the door was ajar, and besides I figured that he must be out by now, since he'd gone up ages ago to take his bath.
I pushed open the door, and there he was lying naked in the tub, his prick bobbing around in the water.
"Sorry Roger!" I said, slamming the door. He called out, "That's okay mom. I guess mistakes will happen."
I felt a bit embarrassed, I suppose, but what was really occupying my thoughts was the way Roger looked so mature lying there in the bath. He'd started going out for school athletics in a big way that year, and they had given him a very sleek, muscular body. And his cock! It was limp when I saw it, but looked big enough for me to guess that it must really be something when it was stiff!
I went back to reading the book I had been looking at, but I just couldn't keep my mind on it. The image of my son's developing body kept superimposing itself on the type.
That wasn't the only little sign I was getting that my son was really turning me on. My panties felt very definitely damp. I'm a pretty wet female anyway, but I could tell that this was no ordinary dampness.
"I must be going nuts, imagining things like this," I said to myself, but the dampness didn't go away for all that. And my little clit was all hard and tingly, too.
There could be no doubt about it, I was going to have to go beat off if I didn't want to go up the wall with horniness or ruin the chair upholstery with my female wetness!
Once I had made up my mind to masturbate, I almost ran up the stairs to my bedroom, I was so eager to get started.
I pulled my clothes off in a hurry, and flopped down on my bed, cupping my cunt in my right hand as I did so.
My hand just felt so good pressing against my twat that I could hardly believe it. But after a second or two of that, I decided to get on with the serious business of manipulating myself to a nice come.
I took one of my discarded nylons and warked it against my cunt. The wet fabric really stimulated my labia as I pulled it back and forth. Then, I folded the nylon up and stuffed it into my cunt so as to feel more like I had a cock in there. A nylon's a pretty poor substitute for a good hard hunk of prick, but it's still pretty nice to have something filling one, and I didn't have any bottles or anything like that handy in the room. I don't have a vibrator because I usually get fucked so often that I don't really need one.
I sent my fingers dancing back and forth across the surface of my twat, teasing and stimulating the pink flesh into a really frantic state of horniness.
I gave my clit a quick little tweak, and the shudder that slammed through my body told me that I'd better be pretty careful about doing that, or I'd be coming long before I wanted to. I was really hungry for a come, Doctor, but I always like to be teased and tantalized a bit before blasting off, whether it's a guy or my hand that's doing the teasing.
I ran my fingers along the cunt-lips, which were pretty sensitive themselves, and then slid them on down into my pussy. The nylon was still wadded up in there, and I pushed it down hard against the mouth of my womb, before taking hold of it between my fingers and pulling it out so as to leave the fingers plenty of room for poking around. I took the nylon in my mouth and started sucking on it, while working my fingers on down into my twat.
,I moved them around all over the place there, pressing the knuckles against the cunt-walls, and doing all sorts of things like that, while continuing to rub my labia with my thumb, which even, at long intervals, gave a quick flick to my super-sensitive clit.
The other hand certainly wasn't idle, either. I was using it to cup first one breast and then the other, and to rub and chafe my nipples, which are extremely sensitive, and responded by swelling up to about twice their normal size.
I was moaning now as my two hands gave my body the real business on its most female places. That hand-action just felt so good!
And what was I thinking about all the while I was doing that? My son Roger! I was imagining that it was his hand which was manipulating my tits, his fingers which were sliding back and forth inside my pussy!
"Roger!" I whispered as I worked myself up to greater and greater frenzy. "Roger! Roger!"
My body felt like some clock which was being wound far too tight....And then all of a sudden, the mainspring broke, and I was bucking and heaving to the force of a really fine come!
Pow! Pow! Pow! My pelvis slammed back and forth against my hand, even as my fingers continued to play around inside my cunt! Man, oh man, was I ever coming!
I pulled my fingers clear and licked the come-juice off of them. I really felt washed-out by the bang-off that I'd had, but it was a good feeling.
Was I ashamed at having fantasized that Roger was fucking me? Oh, maybe a little, but not really much. I've never been one to worry too much about what old fashioned taboos I'm violating. If I was faithful to my husband while he was alive, It was because I really liked the guy, not because I was spooked by any "thou shalt not".
Beating off took away a good bit of the pressure I'd been feeling since" I saw Roger in the bathtub, and after putting on a bathrobe, I went back downstairs to my book.
The trouble was that although the beat-off had cooled me down, I didn't really stay cooled down for long. In fact, it wasn't very long until I started thinking about Roger again.
I thought that maybe I should go and masturbate again, but then I realized that that was silly. I was going to feel horny until I had that young cock of his inside my body, and that was perfectly obvious.
The only problem was how I was going to go about getting him to put it there. I'd tried to raise my boys without a lot of silly hangups and prejudices, but how well had I succeeded? Maybe Roger would turn out to have a real revulsion to giving his mom a bang. Clearly, I couldn't just walk into his room, whip open my bathrobe, and say, "C'mon, let's have it!" I'd have to proceed rather more slowly and carefully than that.
I knew that he was probably still awake reading, so I went to his bedroom door and knocked.
"Come in," he said.
In I walked, dressed only in my bathrobe. There was nothing about that fact to make him suspicious, since I often walk around the house dressed in only a bathrobe.
"I just came to apologize for walking in on you in the bathroom like that," I said.
"Gee, mom, that's all right," he replied. He was lying on the bed in his pajamas, and I thought that perhaps I could detect something stiff under the cloth. Maybe he had been planning on beating off when I came in. Well, I was going to offer him something better than that, if he wanted it.
"I know you don't really mind, but everyone's privacy should be respected," I said, sitting on the bed and leaning over'as I did so, so that one of my breasts started to slip out from under the bathrobe.
It was sort of amusing to see the way in which he tried to keep his eyes from wandering to the partially exposed tit.
"I see you and your mother have something in common," I said.
"What's that, mom?"
"Well, earlier this evening, I felt really sexy, and so I decided to take care of myself. And that's what you were planning on doing too, hmmmm?" And saying this, I started to stroke his prick through the cloth of his underpants. It was already hard, and as soon as I touched it, it got a good deal harder. There was clearly nothing at all wrong with my son in the manhood department.
"I ... uh ... don't know what you're talking about," Roger said, embarrassed at my allusion to his masturbation. That was part of my plan. While he was trying to think up some excuse or reply for that, he wasn't really noticing that I was getting his cock all excited.
"Oh yes you do," I said gently. It was quite clear from the tone of my voice that I had no objections whatever to his masturbating.
"But mom...."
"Hush! Now mom doesn't mind, and to show she doesn't, she's going to give you a kiss!" I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, while continuing to stroke his rod.
The combination was really electric. What with his mother feeling up his meat and handling his prick, all Roger's self-control collapsed at once. I felt him reach out and grab my partially exposed tit, which was obviously something that he had been wanting to do for some time.
I'd clearly gotten him really worked up, but then I wasn't too cool myself at the moment. Don't forget that the whole reason I'd come to Roger's room in the first place was that I was feeling horny, and several seconds of showing off my right tit to him and squeezing his prick had hardly made me any less so.
The kiss turned into a frantic French kiss, while he really fondled my tit and I squeezed away on his meat. Then, I pulled my mouth away, and said, "You know, Roger, it's a bit silly of us to rely on ourselves for sex when we have each other, huh?"
"Y-you mean?"
I spread out on the bed and flipped my bathrobe open all the way, exposing my firm tits and fluffy bush. He gazed at my body in awe for just a second, and then he was on top of me, kissing my lips and sliding his cock between my thighs.
"Mom! Mom!" he gasped in between kisses, while his hands rubbed and pushed at my tits. I moved my thighs apart, and he positioned the head of his rod against the mouth of my cunt.
I've always thought that that moment when you're just waiting for a prick that you know you're going to get any second now is about the finest sensation that a woman can experience. And to be waiting for your son's rod! Wow!
He seemed to hesitate for a second, even though he was literally trembling with desire.
"Don't worry, honey," I said, "I know that you'll do just fine!"
That was apparently all the encouragement that he needed, no sooner had I said that than I felt the fleshy knob of his tool force my cuntlips apart and glide on in.
I've been entered by a fair number of men in my time, Doctor, but I tell you, nothing can compare with the way it felt for me to have my own son pushing his penis on into my cunt!
Finally, he had his whanger all the way in, and he rested there a second, before starting to pump.
He went kind of slowly and carefully at first, and I guessed that maybe I was the first female he had ever fucked. But as soon as he saw that there wasn't really anything all that difficult about fucking after all, he really started to hit his stride and lay his meat into me in long, strong strokes that sent funny little tingly sensations racing up the walls of my cunt.
"Hey, you're good!" I gasped, and it was so obvious from my tone that I really meant what I was saying that his already iron-hard cock seemed to stiffen up even more, and he stroked away even harder.
In! Out! In! Out! He was really giving it to me, really bucking away, and I was loving every bit of it.
"Roger! Roger! Ro-ger!" I gasped.
In! Out! In! Out! He sure wasn't letting any moss grow under his cock! We were almost there ... almost there ... almost almost....
And then I felt my whole body seem to go numb for a second, and I knew that I was right on the edge of my come. One more thrust would do it, one more fucking thrust!
I-N-N-N!
THAT WAS IT! I hung on the edge of my come for one breathless second more, and then suddenly my whole body was erupting in a frantic series of come-spasms that roared through me like a flashflood!
"ROGER!"
He was shooting his wad into me with fine, hard gushes as my pussy clutched hungrily at his tool as if to try and milk it dry.
COME! COME! COME! COME!
And then it was over....
Over....
I could hardly think, hardly knew where I was. All I knew was that my pussy had just been given one of the most fantastic workouts that it's possible for a pussy to have. Roger was panting away as he lay on top of me, and I could tell that his come had been every bit as fantastic as mine had.
It was good to feel his cock in me, particularly since it was really taking its time about going soft. I guess Roger liked the feeling too, since he didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to pull out.
Finally he did remove his meat, though, and he flopped onto his back next to me. We just lay there together without saying anything, while I took his hand in mine and squeezed it.
At last he spoke.
"Mom," he said, "you know, you're the first woman I've ever fucked."
"That didn't keep you from doing a pretty fine job!" I said with complete sincerity. The way he squeezed my hand showed me how grateful he was for the compliment.
"Mom," he said after a moment's silence, "do you think that we've done anything wrong?"
"No. Do you?"
"Not really," he answered. "I mean, it's hard to see as wrong anything that's as much fun as what we just did. But you know, a guy isn't really supposed to fuck with his mother."
"There are lots and lots of things that we're always being told not to do by some busybody or another, and I think if we paid any attention, we wouldn't even be able to breathe. I can see how a mother and her son shouldn't fuck if she's still married. That wouldn't really be fair to her husband, But in a case like ours? I think that's sort of a different matter."
To tell the truth, Doctor, I didn't feel nearly as confident about these things I was saying as I pretended to be. But even though I had some doubts in my mind about whether my son and I should have fucked, about whether I should be lying next to him with my pussy full of his sperm, I didn't want to pass my doubts on to him. I figure that if incest does any harm to the people involved, it's probably mostly because they feel guilty about what they've done. And since we'd already gone past the point of no return, since that was my son's spunk which was moistening the inside of my pussy, I didn't think that much good would be done by feeling guilty about it.
To take Roger's mind off of what we'd just been doing, I suggested we have a drink. I'd been letting him drink a bit for about the last year.
I went and got a whisky and soda for each of us and came and sat down on the bed next to him. We chatted away about one thing and another while sipping our drinks, and I think that maybe both of us were making a pretty conscious effort not to talk or think about the implications of our incestuous activity.
The small talk started to break down, however, due to the fact that we were both naked and obviously both had quite an interest in each other's bodies. I playfully reached out and grabbed his cock, and even though it had come not very long before at all, it started to stiffen up again at my touch.
Roger laughed and took my left tit in his hand. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over my nipple, and the soft rosebud started to harden up mighty fast.
One thing led to another, and it wasn't long before we were poking away at each other and giggling like crazy. Then I said with mock seriousness, "Roger! We must show self-control! First let's finish our drinks!"
He laughed, because he knew I was just kidding him. Then he took down the rest of his whisky and soda in one gulp, while I did likewise. A combination of choking and laughing kept us from saying anything coherent for a minute or two afterwards, but it didn't prevent our hands from enjoying themselves.
"Well," I said, after I was able to talk again, "what's your pleasure?"
"I dunno, mom," he said. "Anything you think would be good."
"Maybe we should sixty-nine," I said. "Sticking your prick in a woman's cunt and licking it are the two fundamental things in sex. Everything is more or less just a variation on that. Besides, if you're anything like your father was, you'll probably end up liking oral sex even better than the regular kind."
"Sounds fine to me," he said, "but you'll have to show me how," he said.
"There's nothing to it. I park my twat in front of your tongue, and you use your tongue to make it happy. That's all there is to it. You can tell from the kind of response you get how well you're doing."
We lay down on the bed together, and I moved my lips up to Roger's cock. Considering that he was only just sixteen, it was really a pretty impressive instrument-a good six inches long, with a big reddish knob on the end and pale blue veins along the shaft. I just hoped that my twat looked as good to him as his prick did to me, and something about the heavy way in which he was breathing indicated that I didn't have a thing to worry about as far as that was concerned.
I gave the knob of his tool three quick little flicks with my tongue and then slipped the knob in my mouth. At the same moment, I felt the touch of Roger's tongue on my clit. I shuddered with delight as he rubbed his tongue-tip around the hard little button, and then moved on to explore my cuntlips and vagina.
I slid my lips up and down the length of his prick several times before deciding to concentrate on the prick-root for the time being. As I sucked away there, I used my fingers to stroke and tantalize his ballsack.
He seemed to really like the action that I was giving him there, because I just can't imagine how a prick could be any harder than his was at that moment.
The things that he was doing to my pussy were pretty nice, too, though. He worked his tongue up and down inside my vagina several times, pressing the tip of it against the cunt-walls. Then he pulled it up quickly, presumably to get as much cunt-juice into his mouth as he could. A couple of loving laps on the labia followed, while my pelvis trembled with excitement.
For a kid who hadn't had any real experience with women before tonight, he sure was good at figuring out what I wanted. For instance, the loving licks that he was giving to my cuntlips soon had me trembling right on the edge of my come. But we both wanted to prolong things a bit, so he eased up on the pressure by moving his tongue to my furry outer lips. They aren't very sensitive, so I was able to cool off, but it was still nice for me to feel his tongue-tip sliding through my pubic hair.
After working his prick-root over for a while, I thought that I'd concentrate on the other end of things, so I moved my lips up to encircle the sensitive spot where his knob joins his shaft and sucked away there. That got a particularly exciting lick on the clit by way of reply, and I guessed that since his mouth was too busy to be able to actually say anything to me, he had decided that a really loving lick would be the best way of signaling to me how much he liked what I was doing.
Of course, I liked what I was doing too. I've always thought that for a woman the feel of a prick resting in her mouth is really one of the most luscious sensations available. You have the same feeling of being penetrated and filled that you do when the cock is in your cunt, but you can use your lips and tongue, so that you don't feel totally passive. Not that I'm knocking passivity as an experience. But it's nice to have a change from it from time to time.
While all this was going on, I was using my left hand to knead and tease my tits. My right hand, as you recall, was busy feeling up Roger's balls.
Lick! Lick! Lick! Man, he was just driving my little pussy straight round the bend with that tongue-action of his. I knew that he would have me coming in just a very few minutes. There was nothing wrong with that, though, since I could tell from the feel of his cock in my mouth that his rod was right on the edge of its blastoff too. A woman can tell, you know.
The tongue danced back and forth over my glistening pink cuntskin as I sucked on his rod.
I felt like I was going to go nuts with frustration if he didn't bring me off right away, but at the same time, I wanted the tantalizing action to go on forever.
I was just about to come ... just about to come ... just about to come....
If I wanted to bring him off at the same time, I knew that I'd better start the final countdown now, because I wasn't going to be able to hold myself back much longer. I pressed my lips very tightly against his cock, right under the knob, while working my tongue against the piss-hole.
Suddenly a shudder pulsed through my body, followed by another, and another, and another in quick succession, and them all hell broke loose as I really started to come fast and hard, with my crotch bucking against my son's eager face. And he was coming too, shooting his man-cream into my mouth in long, strong gushes. It was his second shot of the evening, but judging from the amount of spunk that he had, you'd never have guessed it. There was jism everywhere, and more coming all the time.
COME! COME! COME! COME! Two frantic bodies, rocking, heaving!
COME! COME! COME! COME! Two frantic people, fucking, bucking!
Then his cock gave a last little squirt, and my frantic hips quieted down with a final shiver, and we just lay there together.
We didn't move, we didn't think, we didn't do anything but enjoy the feel of each other's sex organs. I just pressed against his cock with my lips, and noticed how even though this had been the big tool's second shot, it didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to soften up. Oh, it was losing pressure bit by bit, but only very slowly.
I really enjoyed the feeling of his tongue licking away at my pussy, too. Since I had just come, the licking didn't exactly turn me on, but the cunt was still sensitive, and the sensations still very nice.
Finally, I eased my lips off of his whanger and after sloshing his sperm around in my mouth for a while, swallowed the stuff in one big, luscious gulp. As I felt it glide down my throat, the mere knowledge that it was my son's sperm was enough to cause my clit to give a little tingle of excitement.
He gave up trying to lick my cunt dry, and sat up next to me. We still didn't say anything. Not because we were ashamed-the last experience had been so beautiful that shame seemed out of the question-but just because our bodies had said it all already.
After that evening, we continued to fuck quite regularly. And since we enjoyed it so much, we found ourselves less and less able to wait until we were absolutely sure that Jim and Kenny, my other two boys, were not going to be coming back until we had finished. We started to cut corners and take chances.
Well, one afternoon, when the other two boys were supposedly out playing, Roger and I were having a really first-class fucking session. It was a very innovative one, too.
"You know, Roger," I said, "I wonder what it would be like if you fucked me while I held my knees together."
He looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
"I thought there were all sorts of jokes about how the best possible birth-control pill was an aspirin tablet held between the knees," he said, r "Yeah, I know," I answered, "but maybe the people who make up jokes like that don't know anything about sex. I think that it might be possible, and might be kind of fun to try."
"Well," Roger said, "I'm perfectly willing to give it a whirl, mom."
I lay on my back with my knees tightly pressed together. Roger lay on top of me, with a knee on either side of my knees. As he lowered himself, he used one hand to guide his cock between my tightly pressed thighs.
It slid between them without any difficulty, and the first part of my theory had been proven to be right. The thighs are so soft and fleshy that something hard like a cock is perfectly able to push them out of the way.
The cock pressed against the entrance to my cunt, and Roger gave a shove.
In it went. ... In ... in ... in.....
"Mom, you were right! It is possible!"
The fact of having my thighs pressed together did make the entrance to the cunt tighter than it would have otherwise been. But since the cunt itself was up in my pelvis, it was not affected by the position of my legs.
Roger gave me a tender little kiss of congratulation, and then started to pump.
"This is a really groovy position, mom," he said. I could have said the same thing, for it was as good for me as it was for him. Like I said, only the entrance to the cunt was made more constrictive, but since it was, that meant increased stimulation for Roger's cock. And the cock pressed my labia against my enclosing thighs, so that they got stimulation from both sides at once.
Buck! Buck! Buck! He had gotten used to the new position, now, and had picked up his usual, easy rhythm. His cock slid back and forth in my cunt with strong, regular motions that were apparently very satisfying to him, and which drove my poor little pussy straight up the wall with excitement.
In! Out! In! Out! And all the time, he was pressing his fingers against the soft mounds, kneading and teasing them, rubbing his thumb and forefinger against the pink skin of my nipples until the delicate buds swelled up into hard passion-nubs!
This new position was really getting us worked up fast! We were both really panting, and my body kept trying to twist and buck under his weight as he laid the meat into me.
"Come! I gotta come, Roger! Gotta come!" Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt! "Just gotta ... just gotta ... ," I almost sobbed.
It was just too fine! Man, man, man!
One more stroke would do it! one more lousy stroke! And was he ever taking his time with that stroke, too! He pulled back oh, so slowly. Back, back, back, until only the knob of his prick was resting between my cuntlips, and I was almost afraid that he was going to pull his rod out altogether and leave me there half-mad with come-need. Then back in he glided. In. In. In.
"Come! Gotta come!" In. In. In.
I felt my muscles tense ... I was tied up in knots ... just couldn't bear it....IN!
THAT WAS IT!
BRRRRRRRRRRT! My cunt blasted off like a Tommy-gun tearing loose as shudder after shudder of pure, fantastic female ecstasy ripped through me.
"Ahhhhhh!" I gasped. I couldn't stand it, just couldn't stand it ... it was so beautiful! So fine! So fucking fine!"
And all the while I could feel my son's tool quivering between my cunt-walls, feel it spurting, spurting, spurting, as if it wanted to pump itself inside out in its attempt to fill my femininity up with its precious masculine fluid!
As I lay there panting I turned my head to one side and OH MY GOD"!
There was Kenny, my twelve-year-old, standing in the doorway. His mouth was hanging so far open it looked like his jaw was about to fall off, and his eyes had a kind of shell-shocked look to them.
"Mommy!" he said.
Roger glanced round and gave a gasp as he saw his little brother standing there.
Kenny looked like he was about to burst into tears, looked like he was going to turn and run from the scene which he had witnessed.
"Kenny," I said softly, "stay there. There are some things that mommy would like to explain to you."
It goes without saying that Roger had already pulled out of me, but that hardly made the scene any less shocking to little Kenny.
I pulled a bathrobe on quickly, and Roger pulled on his pants.
"Kenny, dear," I said, "please come here."
He stepped silently over to me.
"I suppose you saw what Roger and I were doing?" I said. That was sort of a stupid question, since he obviously had, but it was necessary for me to begin somewhere.
"Uh huh," he said shyly.
"You know about sex, don't you, Kenny?"
"Uh huh."
"So you know we were having sex?"
"You were fucking!" he said with a note of accusation in his voice.
"That's right," I said, "we were fucking. And do you know why?"
Silence.
"When a woman doesn't have a man to fuck her, she gets very unhappy. Since daddy isn't around any more. I needed some one to fuck me. Roger was being a good boy by helping me. He was giving me the fucking that I needed."
"You needed to be fucked?"
"That's right," I said. "And Roger was helping me."
"Does he like helping you?"
"Yes," I said. I had decided that the only way to defuse this emotional time-bomb was to fuck with Kenny too. Otherwise he would probably end up feeling really jealous of his brother.
"Yes," I repeated, "he does like helping me. He likes to fuck." I pulled one of my breasts out of my bathrobe. "Wouldn't you like to suck and kiss this?" I asked.
He looked eagerly at the soft breast and said," yes."
"Why don't you?"
He didn't need a second invitation. I felt his little lips close around my nipple, and then he began to suck away just as if he were trying to get some milk out.
"That's part of fucking," I explained, stroking his head gently as he sucked away. I reached my other hand down and squeezed his cock through the crotch of his jeans.
The tool was already partially erect from the excitement he felt at being allowed to suck my tit. In fact, it was straining against the blue denim. It's hard to judge the size of a prick when it's all confined like that, but nevertheless I suspected from what I could feel that for a twelve-year-old, little Kenny was more than adequately endowed.
I could tell from the way in which he was sucking that he was already largely comforted from his shock and seeing me and Roger fuck. I guess it's hard for a male to feel angry very long when he has a woman's nipple in his mouth and her hand on his prick!
I pulled down the zipper of Kenny's jeans, and the cock punched out hard against his underpants. No doubt about it, he had a fine tool. Bringing him into the little incestuous circle would not be a chore but a pleasure. At first I had decided upon it because it had seemed necessary if really bitter sibling rivalry were to be avoided, but had figured that fucking with a little kid probably wouldn't be much fun. But now that I felt that cock of his through his underpants, I wasn't nearly so sure of that. He'd probably be big enough to satisfy me, and though he wouldn't be as big as a full grown man (which Roger was in the prick department), it would be an interesting change to fuck with a little boy.
So, even as I squeezed and fondled his meat, I felt my clitty stiffen up and my cunt start to get wet.
The intense way in which Kenny was sucking at my nipple indicated that he was really excited now, but he was clearly willing to allow his mother to take the lead completely.
Well, that was fine by me. I pulled the underpants down, and his cock bobbed out into the open, swelling up at last to its full size. I put my hand around the shaft and noticed that my earlier guesses about the size of his equipment had been accurate. His tool was really quite big, and clearly capable of taking on my cunt.
Since he seemed so willing for me to run the show, and since I was afraid that if I gave him responsibility for directing the fuck he might get nervous and go soft, with devastating effects on his ego, I decided that it would be best if I top-rode him. Once he'd actually had a come in a woman's twat, his self-confidence would be assured, and he could be initiated into the active role later without any difficulty.
I eased his mouth away from my nipple, giving him a kiss to show that I had other nice things in store for him. Then, I pushed his shoulders back gently against the bed.
He gazed up at me with love and excitement glowing in his eyes. All the earlier shock had been replaced with happiness now that he knew that he was going to be treated like a big man just as his older brother Roger was.
I placed a knee on either side of his hips and reached down to take his cock in my hand. I held it aloft, so that the tip of it was pointing at my pussy, and then started to squat down over it.
As soon as the end of his rod touched my cunt-lips, I stopped my downward motion and instead started moving my hips in a circle, so that his prick-tip rubbed against my labia. As both prick-tip and labia were extremely sensitive, the diversion was one which we both enjoyed.
Sidelines like that can be great, but of course they just end up by making you hungrier for the main action. So after centering his cock, down I slid, taking the hard organ into me.
"Mmmm, nice," I said as I felt my cunt-walls pushed aside by his penis. I said that partly to increase his confidence, and partly just because it was true. His cock really did feel nice in my cunt. Partly because any cock feels nice there, and partly because the idea of being fucked by one of my sons while another of them looked on was really one hell of a turn-on.
I sat on his balls for a moment, jiggling up and down gently, and then I slowly lifted my body up again.
A look of nervousness shot into Kenny's eyes. He was obviously afraid that I was going to take my cunt all the way off of his prick, and leave him unsatisfied.
"Don't worry," I said with a smile, "I wouldn't do a thing like that to you."
I think it pleased him that I was able to read his mind like that. It restored his faith in me as an all-knowing, all-protecting mother.
Up I went, and then down again. Up and down. Up and then down. He smiled at his realization of how groundless his fears of just a few seconds before had been. It was interesting to note that he didn't feel embarrassed at having been too inexperienced to guess what it was that I was doing when I had moved up the first time. Clearly, he didn't have any big masculinity hangups. He accepted as a matter of course the fact that there were things about sex that he hadn't learned yet, and didn't take his ignorance as an indication that he was somehow unmanly. And I've known grown men who've really acted pissed and resentful when I've suggested new positions to them.
I was moving up and down quite fast now, and smiling and winking at Kenny as I did so. It reassured him to have me wink as if this were all a big game in which the incestuous component was not important enough to worry about.
He reached up and cupped my dangling breasts. Judging from the way in which he had sucked on one of them earlier, he obviously had the makings of a real breast-enthusiast in him, but that didn't bother me. Hell, having my breasts fondled and caressed is one of the things I like best.
I bent my body over to give him a better chance at holding them, while continuing to move my pelvis up and down over his cock.
He was only twelve, but you just can't imagine how stiff that penis of his was, Doctor! It was just like having a piece of pipe there inside me!
"I've always liked top-riding, since I know some tricks to make the labia really rub in an exciting way against the clit. I hadn't been at this fuck very long when I noticed that my pussy was feeling very, very turned on. Indeed, I decided to slow up my pace a bit so as to not come too soon.
Something about the stiffness of Kenny's prick suggested to me, however, that the mere fact of having a cunt come around it would be enough to set it off. To be on the safe side, I decided to give a few more pelvic thrusts, though it was becoming increasingly obvious to me that in my present state of excitement, I really didn't have too much control over when I was going to blast off.
Up! Down! Up! Down!
Almost there....
As I moved up once again, I felt a little shiver run through the penis stuck inside me. Kenny was going over the top, and as I slid back down over his tool, it started spurting away like mad.
I had thought that the feel of my cunt coming would be what would set his prick off, but things worked out the other way around. As soon as I felt those gobs of spunk gush up into me, my twat shuddered off into a really furious come, in which it seemed like every muscle in my body was unwinding all at once.
"MOM!" he gasped.
It was wild, it was frantic, it was just incredible. A twelve-year-old boy and his mother rocking together in one of the great comes of all time! Though mind you I like fucking so much that any come seems pretty great to me!
At last he stopped shooting, and after I had recovered my breath a bit, I said to him, "well, how do you like fucking?"
"Mom...." That was all he could say. His voice just trailed off. As far as he was concerned, the experience had been so incredible that there wasn't any possible way in which he could describe it. I later found out that he had not yet learned to masturbate, so the come I had just given him was the first one he had ever had at all. No wonder he was impressed!
I eased my cunt off of his tool, and his spunk sloshed out of it as I did so.
"You did a beautiful job, Kenny," I said. "Now maybe you'd like to go and play while Roger and I finish what we were doing." I figured that with a twelve-year-old boy, it would probably not be a good idea to expect a second shot. Obviously, with these formative first experiences, it's very important that failure be avoided.
Kenny has always been willing to face the fact that his older brothers are allowed to do things that he isn't big enough for yet, so he didn't protest at the fact that he was going to be sent off with only one come while Roger had a second one. He was so contented anyway that the last thing he would have felt like doing was complaining about anything.
After he left, Roger and I had a nice dog-style fuck. All in all, it had been a very satisfying afternoon, and I was very glad of the fact that Kenny had walked in on us, since otherwise I don't think that it would have occurred to me to have sex with him. Now, though, I knew that he would make an interesting supplement to Roger's more mature fucking.
Of course, the fun and games couldn't be limited to just Kenny and Roger. Word would eventually get to Jim, my fourteen-year-old, or he'd suspect something, and then he'd feel terribly resentful and left out.
The trouble was that I didn't know quite how to introduce Jim to the fuck-circle. He's a rather quiet, shy boy, seemingly much more interested in books than girls, and I couldn't tell at all what his reaction would be to an offer from his mother to fuck her. With Roger, I'd been carried away by my own passions and made advances to him simply because I couldn't stop myself. And with Kenny, the problem had pretty much resolved itself. I didn't have to find a way to break things to him, since he'd seen them with his own eyes.
"Oh well," I said to myself, "so far so good. I'll think of something." But since I wanted to avoid causing Jim any emotional trauma, I decided not to rush things, but to wait until I had come up with a good way of informing him that I fucked with his brothers and was perfectly willing to fuck with him.
The next morning he seemed very quiet at breakfast, and though he's never been much of a talker, I couldn't help noticing that he was particularly silent. I didn't give the matter any thought until he came home from school.
"Hi, Jim," I said as he walked in the door.
He didn't say a word.
"You don't say hi to your mother any more?" I asked, a little bit surprised and hurt. "Hi."
That was about the most sullen greeting that it was possible to get, and I could see that something was wrong. Funnily enough, I didn't guess what it was, though.
"Jim, is something bothering you?"
"Nope." Same leaden tone of voice consisting of unhappiness and surliness mixed about 50-50.
"Oh yes there is," I said.
He looked at me defiantly, and then his defiance started to collapse. His lower lip trembled, and a tear started down his right cheek.
"Y-you love Kenny and Roger better than me," he said, his voice quavering.
In a flash, I guessed the truth.
"You fuck with them, but you don't fuck with me!" he added, and the last word was really more of a sob than a word. Kenny must have blabbed.
I hugged him tightly against my breasts as the sobs came thick and fast. I felt so sorry for him that I was about to cry myself, to tell the truth.
"Jim, Jim, Jim," I said softly, "whoever gave you a crazy idea about me loving you less than Kenny or Roger?"
"But you f-fuck with them and not with me!" he sobbed.
"I only fucked with Kenny yesterday, and I just hadn't gotten around to you," I said as soothingly as I could. "You weren't in the house at the time, and afterwards, I'd really had as much fucking as I could take in one day."
I didn't mention the fact that I had been fucking with Roger for some time previously. Well, that was a bridge I could cross later, hopefully.
My explanation had caused the sobbing to subside a bit. Jim took his head from my breast and looked at me with swollen eyes. I suspected that he felt a bit ashamed at having cried in front of his mother. You know how boys are at that age!
"Now, just to prove that you have no reason to be jealous of Kenny and Roger, I'd like to fuck with you right now, if you'd like."
"You don't have to if you don't want to, mom," he said. He was obviously afraid that I was just going to fuck with him to cheer him up, and not because I really wanted to.
"Of course I want to, Jim," I said. "How could I not want to when you go around with your cock making big bulges under your pants like this?" And I squeezed his rod through his pants. Its response was so immediate that I could see that as far as siring boys as virile as himself, my late husband had scored a hundred per cent.
"C'mon," I said, "let's go up to my room." Up we went, and I started to undress my middle son.
"Here, mom," he said, "let me take your clothes off," he said. "Okay."
Slowly, lovingly, he began to remove my clothing. I've always known that he was very fond of me, and that was evident from the care with which he undressed me. He didn't want to make a run in my nylons, or pinch me when undoing my bra-strap. Also, I think he was very eager to play an active role in our sex-play.
As soon as he had me undressed, I was about to ask him what sort of fucking he would like. Partly because he seemed so quiet much of the time, I suppose I had him pegged as someone who wouldn't be very aggressive in the sack, and I was ready to take the lead in initiating him just as I had initiated Kenny. But to my surprise, before I could say anything, he said, "let's fuck dog-style, mom."
"Fine by me," I said. I was secretly proud of the fact that he had taken the initiative in this fashion. It was sort of touching that he suggested a rather less common position than, say, the missionary. I doubted very, very much that he had ever had his cock in a female, since he spent most of his time at home reading. But somewhere he had obviously heard about dog-style fucking, and it was my guess that he suggested it in an effort to show me that he knew something about screwing.
I got onto my hands and knees, and he positioned himself behind me. I felt a gentle pressure on my cunt, and identified it as coming from his hand. Clearly, he had decided to give me a bit of a preliminary feel before plunging on in. I was impressed that he was aware of the fact that females generally like plenty of fore-play.
He rubbed his fingers against my cuntlips until I felt good and horny, and then he positioned his prick. I felt the tip of it press against my cuntlips as he readied it. Then, in he thrust, and I had to admit that he did so with a certain amount of style. Some guys just barge into you, as if they are diving into a swimming pool. Others creep in, as if they were doing something to be ashamed of. But though I could tell that Jim felt a bit nervous, there could be no doubt of the fact that he had had a good idea of how entering a female should be done.
As soon as he had his tool inside me, he rested there for a second, while caressing my tits with his hands. Then, he started to pump away, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed.
"Very nice," I said, as I felt his cock slide back and forth inside my warm, wet femininity. He had a good thick cock, and that meant that there was a good, tight fit, which is something I always like. Every backstroke gave me the impression that he was going to pull my cunt inside out, but that's sort of an interesting feeling.
Back! Forth! Back! Forth! And all the while his fingers were pushing at my creamy breasts. He had a way of teasing the nipples that was really out of this world. He would rub the tips of his fingers over the surface of the breasts, circling in closer and closer to the swollen pink passion-nubs. Then, after just grazing the aureola, he would send the fingertips circling away again, while my poor nipples were practically begging for more attention.
It was a constantly escalating little game, too. He would move in farther and farther towards the nipple itself, so that each time I got more and more impatient for the next little assault. And all the while, his penis was churning my cunt into a quivering mass of come-need.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
"Jim! You're ... just ... so ... fan-tastic!" I gasped. It wasn't so easy to speak, now, since my breath was coming in short little gasps. For that matter, it wasn't so easy to think, either, since my whole attention was absorbed by the fantastic sensations which Jim was giving to my pussy.
He didn't say anything, but I could tell from the almost unbelievable rigidity of his cock just how delighted he was at the fact that his fucking had gotten his mom worked up to the point where she was gasping and shivering in ecstasy.
"Jim ... I'm going to come! I'm going to come!"
And it felt like I was, too, but the funny thing was that I had the impression that Jim was totally in command, as far as that was concerned. He may have given the impression of being sort of a bookworm, but it was obvious that somehow or other he had gained a surprising talent for fucking. I was to learn later that he had acquired it from reading vast amounts of erotic literature, though I suppose that just reading wouldn't have done any good if he had not also had a very substantial amount of natural aptitude. And that was something which my husband had clearly passed on to all three of his boys.
So although my cunt felt like it could blast off at any minute, Jim kept it hanging fire in the most wonderfully maddening way.
"Jim ... I can't stand it...." I gasped.
Buck! Buck! Buck!
"Make me come! Make me come!"
Buck! Buck! Buck!
I felt his cock give a little extra stiffening, and at the same time I noticed a slightly different quality about the stroke he was giving with it. He was obviously about to come, and just as obviously, he had decided to bring me off too.
In he went, good and hard, and my pussy went off like a string of Chinese firecrackers, while his cock shot gob after gob of sperm into it. As far as Jim's prick was concerned, there was nothing bookish or quiet about it at all!
After that, we sixty-nined, and Jim was perfectly convinced that I loved him every bit as much as I loved Kenny and Roger.
Since then, Doctor, the incestuous stuff has continued on a pretty regular basis. I still date men my own age, occasionally, and I haven't entirely given up on the idea of remarriage, but now that I have my boys ready to satisfy all of my sexual urges, I don't feel nearly as desperate as I used to. Before, when a guy wanted to make me, I'd go along with it unless he was a real jerk. But now I'm pretty choosy when it comes to bed partners. After all, and this is no exaggeration, each of my three boys is as good in his own way as almost any man my own age whom I've fucked with. Notice that I say each in his own way. One of the best features of the setup I have going is that I can choose between some rather different styles of fucking. Kenny is delightfully naive, and very willing to be guided by me. Jim is extremely talented, in a slightly nervous kind of way, and Roger is very steady and virile.
It's a good thing that I like fucking, though, since they're all pretty horny most of the time, and take quite a bit of satisfying. Their father never had terribly much time for me during the day, seeing as he was so attached to his work, but man, at night it was sometimes hard for me to get any sleep!
Most of the time I fuck separately with them. I prefer it that way, since there's a greater feeling of closeness and intimacy. Each boy gets two private fuck-sessions with me a week, or sometimes more if I feel like having two sessions in a day. I have to be sort of careful to see that each of them gets pretty much the same amount of fucking, since otherwise I assume that there would be jealousy problems of various sorts.
Sometimes, for a change, I take on two of them at once, or even the three of them together. For instance, just last week, I decided that we should have a little orgy, since it was my birthday.
Normally, when we fuck together, each boy does me once while, the other two watch. This time, though, I thought it might be kind of fun if I took them all on at once.
"Okay, kids," I said, "this is what we'll do. I'll get on my hands and knees, and one of you can fuck my cunt from behind. I'll be blowing one of the others, and using my right hand to beat off the third. That sound okay?"
They thought it sounded fine, and they drew straws to determine who would be doing what, since obviously it would be more fun to be fucking mom's cunt than to just be beaten off by her, though judging from the look on the loser's face, a hand-job by mom was not something to be sneezed at, as far as they were concerned.
I got onto my hands and knees, and Kenny got behind me. I had shown him how to play the active role in fucking, and he was showing constantly developing aptitude in that direction. Roger was the guy who was going to get the blow job, and he lay on the floor on his back so that I could get at his cock easily. Jim was also lying on the floor, in such a way that I could put my hand on his prick without any difficulty. As I explained to the boys, it would be more fun if we could manage to all come together, though that would take a good bit of self-control and sensitivity to the others on everyone's part.
"Okay," I said, and Kenny slid his cock into my cunt and started pumping. I bent my head down and took Roger's cock in my mouth. I was resting on my left elbow, and my right hand took hold of Jim's cock and started squeezing.
It was really wild being in action with three guys at once. It felt good to have a prick in my cunt, it felt good to have a prick in my mouth, and it felt good to have a prick in my hand. And judging from the assorted gasps that I was hearing, the boys were having a pretty good time too with the attention I was dishing out.
I could tell from the feel of Jim's prick that I had gotten him almost up to his flashpoint, and since I wasn't ready to come yet, I eased off a bit, putting him on hold, so to speak. That gave me an idea on how to make the come a simultaneous one. I sucked away very, very vigorously at Roger's prick until it, too, was right next to its come, and I put it on hold too, giving it just enough attention to keep it at a constant state of excitement.
Kenny was bucking away like crazy, and soon I felt my body tense for the blastoff. I immediately started working away vigorously on Roger and Jim's supercharged pricks, and just as the first shock of my come hit me, I had Roger firing into my eager mouth, and Jim gushing his load out all over my hand.
Coming! Coming! Coming! Kenny was firing too, they were all three firing, and my body trembled to the force of my own come. Man, oh man, was I ever getting it! And was I ever loving it! Sperm in my twat, sperm in my mouth, and sperm on my hand! It was really quite a fuck, that's all that can be said.
At any rate, Doctor, the way it is at my house, the boys and I engage in plenty of sex together, and certainly they don't seem to be any more bothered by that fact than I am. But I would like a professional's opinion as to whether or not they might be being psychologically traumatized in any way.
One of the foremost authorities on the subject of incest has reminded us that in our search for the causes of incestuous behavior we should not forget that "there are those 'offenders' who simply find each other attractive."1 And certainly plain and simple sexual hunger was a major motivating factor in Mrs. A.'s establishment of sexual relations with her son Roger. It is hardly surprising that she should be turned on by a healthy, athletic young man of sixteen.
But with something like incest, pure physical desire is hardly ever the whole story. Mrs. A., for example, was the aggressor the first time she and her son had sex, despite the fact that she had plenty of other possible sexual outlets, since she admitted to often having sex with the men her own age whom she dated.
An important element in the initiation of the incestuous relationship was Mrs. A.'s "accidental" glimpse of her naked son. Readers of Freud will recall how after he accidentally broke an ugly inkstand which someone had given him he realized how his subconscious had influenced his carelessness, and he coined the phrase "accident on purpose." It seems reasonable to suppose that Mrs. A.'s "accidental" viewing of her son's penis was an accident of just this sort.
Although it is common to talk of the "aggressive" and "passive" partners in a sexual relationship, these terms are really an oversimplification. How "passive," for instance, is the beautiful girl who puts on a minute bikini and then suns herself voluptuously on a beach full of men? And how "active" is the man who is attracted to her like a moth attracted to a light bulb? Thus, although it was the mother who more or less initiated the sexual activity between herself and her son, the latter's role can by no means be easily discounted.
For example, if Mrs. A.'s barging in on him while he was in the bath can be classified as a Freudian "accident on purpose," what about the fact that he had "accidentally" left the bathroom door ajar while bathing? I do not mean to suggest that he consciously left it open in the hope that his mother would come in and look at his penis. But down in his subconscious, it is by no means improbable that a desire to be looked at by her existed, and that this desire manifested itself in his forgetting to close the door.
The importance of exhibitionism in incestuous behavior is something which cannot in the least be discounted. As Masters puts it, "unconscious parental exhibitionism designed to stimulate the interest of the desired son or daughter is also commonplace."2 For instance, a father may urinate loudly into a toilet bowl so as to call his daughter's attention to his penis. And children who wish to make themselves sexually attractive to their parents can use similar, unconscious ploys.
An interesting feature of Mrs. A.'s case was the way in which the incestuous behavior spread to include the other two boys. Partly, of course, this was just the force of circumstances. Kenny walked in on her and Roger, and she had to take it from there, so to speak. (Though she mentions how she and Roger got careless, and this could be another "accident on purpose.")
Together, the three boys seem able to provide her with a very satisfying sex life. This is because each of them has certain features in his sexual behavior which stem from his age and his self-identity regarding his place in the family. (By this I mean that Kenny, for instance, as the youngest, is likely to play a role of dependency and passivity. Roger, the oldest, is the man of the family, athletic and strong. And Jim has carved out a special role for himself as an intellectual type.) It should be noted that in this desire to have a completely satisfying sexual life on tap at home, Mrs. A. may be manifesting a fear of relations with other men, although what the cause of this fear might be is certainly obscure. In other words, she would be saying to herself, "if you don't like these characters, you don't have to put up with them. You always have your boys at home." That way she would not have to feel dependent on men of her own age.
The reason she came into my office in the first place was to find out whether the sexual relations she was having with her boys were likely to cause them any psychological harm.
A question like that is never very easy to answer. Certainly incest is sometimes a highly traumatic experience.3 But Mrs. A.'s boys did not appear to have been traumatized, and took their sexual relations with their mother in stride, as something perfectly natural. I interviewed each of them, and decided that they were basically well balanced boys. My advice to Mrs. A. was that it would be harmful to suddenly break off relations, since this might lead the boys to feel rejected, but that she would do well to encourage them to have sexual activity with females their own age, so that they would not become over-dependent psychologically upon their mother and the readily available sex which she offered them.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
Mrs. Brenda P. was an attractive, slightly plump woman in her mid-thirties. She had obviously taken a great deal of trouble with her appearance for this interview, but she lacked the natural sense of style so in evidence with Mrs. A. And besides, nothing about a dress or hairdo could ever disguise something as obvious as Mrs. P.'s extreme unhappiness. She wanted to speak, but every time she opened her mouth, all that would come out was a series of inarticulate sobs.
".Don't worry, Mrs. P.," I said soothingly, "we have plenty of time. Just wait until you've caught your breath, and then tell the story in your own words."
Mrs. P. continued to sob for a few more minutes, and then finally managed to get a hold of herself.
"Oh, Doctor, it's just so awful! I'm so ashamed!" she said as tears poured down her face.
"What's so awful?" I asked quietly.
"Everything. What I've been doing with my son Eddy, and the way Dan-that's my husband-found out about it, and everything!"
Several more minutes of sobbing followed. Finally, with the aid of a glass of water (a splendid traditional remedy based on the fact that it is very difficult to cry and swallow at the same time, since sobbing requires a considerable air intake) I got her calmed down again.
"I really am sorry to be so much trouble, Doctor," she said. "Anyway, this is what's happened...."
I've been married for fifteen years, and it hasn't all been roses, I can tell you. In fact, when Dan told me that I had a choice between seeing a shrink or breaking up the marriage, I think I might have chosen the latter if it hadn't been for the fact that Dan would have been able to use the fact that I fuck with Eddy to get custody of him.
Dan's always regarded himself as a big, tough hombre. The kind of guy who goes into a bar and says how he can lick anyone in the house. You know the type.
Anyway, he always made a big thing about how he expected his word to be law around the house. It was always "Brenda do this," or "Brenda do that," or "Brenda, for Chrissake don't act like more of a dumb broad than you really are." I got pretty sick of it, but he brought home a pretty good paycheck to me and Eddy, so I stuck with him. I didn't want my boy to be damaged by growing up in a broken home.
Eddy isn't anything at all like his dad. He's really sort of quiet and shy, and very well behaved. He's just fifteen.
Anyway, he went out on his first date a few months ago, and when he came back, I could tell that he was really unhappy. I thought that maybe things hadn't gone too well between him and the girl, and I didn't know whether or not I should try and comfort him. I didn't want to pry into his personal affairs, but at the same time I figured that maybe he wanted an understanding ear.
I knocked on his door and went in. He was lying face down on the bed sobbing his heart out.
"Eddy," I said, "what's the matter."
"Nothing!" he answered in between sobs. I bent over and put my arm around him.
"C'mon Eddy," I said softly, "you can tell mom. If nothing is wrong you wouldn't be lying on the bed like that, would you?"
"Please, mom," he said, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Things often feel a lot better when you've talked them over with someone you love," I said.
"But how can a guy tell his mom that he isn't ... isn't a man!"
"Isn't a man?"
"That's right! I'm not a man!" he sobbed. "I'm not! I'm not!"
"What do you mean, Eddy?" I asked, getting a bit worried.
Now that he had blurted out what was bothering him, he was more than ready to talk.
"Well," he said, "Ellen, the girl I took out tonight, it turns out she really likes to ... to do it, you know, mom? And when we were at her house, she started to unbutton her blouse and asked me to help her undress. Well, I thought that that was really neat, and my prick got really hard. I really like Ellen, and she looked so fine! Well, anyway, she had me take all her clothes off, and then she asked me to stick my prick into her. I did, but I'd only had it in a few seconds when it started to go all limp. I tried to keep it hard, mom, honest I did, but that didn't help. I just got softer and softer. Ellen started crying, saying how I'd humiliated her, and I came on home. And now I know that I'm not a real man, since I can't fuck a girl!"
I hugged him close to try and comfort him. The poor little fellow! Faced with Female aggressiveness, he'd gotten nervous and his prick had failed him. And now he was just about ready to die, he felt so ashamed.
I knew that he didn't have any reason to worry. Even Dan has sometimes been unable to hack it in bed, and there can be no question about his being a man! But even if the fact that Eddy had not been able to keep an erection didn't mean that there was anything wrong with him physically, I was afraid that his fear of being unable to perform might 'really impede him sexually in the future.
"Look, Eddy," I said, pressing him to me, "there isn't a man alive who hasn't had trouble in that department at one time or another. Just because you were a little bit unlucky on your first try doesn't mean anything at all!"
He looked a bit comforted by that, but only a bit. He clearly felt like I was feeding him a line so as to try and make him feel better. Besides, he may of felt that as a woman I really didn't know anything about such matters. And his father couldn't help him out, since the last thing on earth that Dan would have been willing to admit to anyone, least of all his own son, was that he had ever had difficulty maintaining an erection.
"Okay mom, I guess maybe you're right," Eddy said, but there certainly wasn't much conviction in his voice. I left him feeling very worried.
Dan was working the night shift that evening, so I didn't have anyone to discuss the problem with. And I was afraid that by morning, poor Eddy would have fretted himself into a nervous wreck.
After I went to bed later that evening, I lay there wondering what on earth I could do. And that was when the idea came to me. I tried to put it out of my head at once, since I knew perfectly well that incest was wrong, but somehow it kept forcing its way back into my mind.
Eddy's problem stemmed pretty clearly from the fact that the first female he'd had for a sexual partner had been too aggressive and pushy. He'd felt under too much pressure to perform, and as a result, he hadn't been able to perform at all.
But what if a female took him in hand who was loving and understanding, and whom he trusted? What if she ensured him of a success in the prick department? Wouldn't that memory help overcome the one of his humiliation with Ellen?
Who should the female be? I knew perfectly well.
"Brenda, you're being crazy," I said to myself. But it wasn't just the fact that the idea kept coming back to me which I had to face. There was a definite moistness between my legs, and my clit was starting to tingle and stiffen up. I was partly horrified at these signs that I was sexually interested in my son, and partly glad. After all, I guess I really did want to carry out my idea, and the increasing horniness which was taking hold of me was breaking down my inhibitions.
My hand crept to my crotch and cupped it gently. I pressed my tender labia, and my pelvis gave a shudder. There could be no question about it, I was really hot. And of course, the more that I squeezed my cunt, the hotter I became.
I made one final effort to block Eddy out of my mind, but it was a complete failure. I had to have his prick inside me right now, and that was all there was to that.
Quietly, I got up from my bed and headed towards Eddy's room, my heart was racing, but I certainly didn't have any intention of turning back.
I pushed open Eddy's door. I had been afraid that he might still be awake, but in fact he was sleeping. That would make my plan easier to carry out.
I sat down gently on the bed and lightly stroked his hair. He murmured something and rolled over onto his back. What I wanted to do was get him into that state halfway between waking and sleeping.
I pulled the blankets back carefully, and undid his pajamas. His prick already had a mild erection. I ran my fingertips along the surface of it, and the rod stiffened up a good deal more. He gave a little sigh, but didn't look like he was about to wake up.
Gently, I slipped my fingers around his cock and started to squeeze. The thing stiffened up some more, until it was now as hard as a rock. I bent over and kissed it gently. It was a very nice prick, firm and long, and I knew that I was going to enjoy it.
I placed a knee on either side of Eddy's hips, and then, taking his penis in my right hand, I pointed it up towards my cunt.
This was the riskiest moment, since if he woke up now he would be certain to guess what I had in mind, but not yet turned on enough to accept it.
I lowered my body gently onto his cock. In the thing slid, pressing apart my cuntlips.
Down I went, down, down, down....
Finally, I was resting on his balls. Then, I moved up slowly, before heading on down once again.
Up ... down ... up ... down....
I was taking things nice and easy, partly because I like to start kind of slowly when fucking, and partly because I didn't want to wake up Eddy. He seemed to be out like a light, though, so as I started to get more and more cranked up, I was able to speed things up without being too afraid of his suddenly awaking.
There was really a funny sort of unreal quality about top-riding a boy who seemed like he was dead to the world. But there was a sort of smile on his face, and I guessed that in some way or another he was enjoying all this.
"I wonder what he's dreaming about," I said to myself.
Up! Down! Up! Down! I was really going now, really pounding for a come, and I could tell that whether Eddy was sleeping or not, his cock was sure as hell wide awake. It was completely stiff, and obviously ready to spew its load up into me.
It was not part of my plan for Eddy to sleep through the whole thing. I hoped that he would wake up as he got near his come, and to help him do so, I started to stroke his forehead while giving the last few strokes.
Suddenly his eyes flicked open, and there was a look of astonishment in them, but it was glazed over by pure, sexual excitement.
"Mom?" he murmured as I continued to work his turgid prick.
"Hush!" I answered and redoubled my pelvic motions.
He was doubtless a bit confused, but more importantly, he was really horny, and the result there was that he was perfectly willing to lie back passively and let me continue with what I had started.
I was almost there ... almost ... almost....
"Mom! Mom! Mom!" he called, and this time there was a tone of real ecstasy. He reached his hands up and cupped my swinging tits in them. Whatever he might have thought of incest in normal circumstances, in this weird dream-situation he was in, he sure didn't have any objections to it.
That was good, too, because at the time I was so incredibly turned on that the last thing on earth that I would have been able to do would have been to have stopped fucking and try and give a rational explanation for all of this.
My whole cunt was throbbing, and my breath was coming in short, staccato gasps. Just a bit more fucking would do it, just a bit more, just a bit more....
I felt his prick give an extra little stiffening inside me, and then all of a sudden it was shooting its load in big, hard gushes, while he gasped, "MOM!"
Wham! Wham! Wham! My pelvis was really slamming, and it felt like every single muscle in my body was having some sort of fit. I was COMING! CMMING! COMING! Man oh man, was I ever COMING!
When the last spasm left me, I looked down at Eddy and smiled. I had no possible way of guessing what his reaction to all of this would be.
The look of gratitude that he gave me erased all of my fears.
"Mom," he said, "you're just fantastic."
He had just had his manhood proven to him, and that was something so important that he wasn't about to make any complaints about the way in which this had been done.
I eased myself off of him and gave him a kiss.
"G'night," I said, "sleep tight!" And I tiptoed out of the room.
Back in my own bed, I just didn't know what to think of what I'd just done. There was a definite sensation of guilt pricking at me. After all, I knew perfectly well that incest was supposed to be a morally dreadful thing. But at the same time there had been something so wonderful about the expression of relief and gratitude on my son's face that I couldn't regret having done what I did.
"Well," I said to myself, "I guess one time won't hurt."
The next morning at breakfast, I guess I felt a little sheepish. I sort of avoided looking at Eddy, and I didn't say much as I got him his food. And he seemed to be acting the same way.
Things were made even more tense by Dan's arrival from the plant. All in all, it was sort of a relief to have Eddy out of the house and heading for school.
As soon as he had taken a bath, one of the first things that Dan wanted was a fuck. He said it helped him unwind after being on the assembly line all night. I like fucking, so normally I don't really mind, but this time being humped by Dan was sort of a chore, since what I really wanted was to be left alone with my thoughts.
After we had finished, Dan went to sleep, and I was able to get dressed again and get on with my housework.
The night before, fucking with Eddy had seemed like kind of an adventure, and something that would be harmless enough if it wasn't repeated. The trouble was that I found myself increasingly hoping that it could be repeated. Compared to the aggressive dominant way in which Dan made sex, fucking with Eddy offered much more of a chance for me to participate actively too. And frankly, I just preferred my son to my husband as a person. Eddy was kind and considerate. Neither of those qualities was ever likely to be attributed to Dan.
Dan got up after sleeping about eight hours, and the three of us had supper together before Dan left for the plant. He always leaves a bit early, and I've often wondered if that doesn't indicate that he has a girlfriend stashed away somewhere.
Once Eddy and I were alone, a sort of embarrassing silence fell. It was pretty obvious that neither of us really knew how to get the ball rolling.
"Eddy," I said finally, "I hope you don't have any silly doubts about your manhood any more."
"Oh no, mom," he answered, "you took care of all those."
"Well, I'm glad I could be of some help."
"Was that the only reason you did it? To help?"
"Oh no," I said, quickly trying to cover my tracks. "I just came into your room to see if you were awake and if I could talk to you some more about your problem, and looking at you lying there all big and strong, I guess that I just sort of got carried away."
From the way in which he beamed with pleasure on hearing me say that, I could tell that I had hit the mark pretty damn accurately.
"In that case," he said, "if you didn't just fuck with me to help me, but because you enjoyed it, maybe ... maybe...."
His voice trailed off, but there couldn't be any doubt at all about what he had in mind. As a matter-of-fact, it was pretty much the same thing that I had in mind....
"The only trouble is, would that be fair to your dad?"
"But dad's never very nice to us," he said stubbornly, "and you're just so beautiful mom."
He was obviously pretty good at hitting the target too.
"Well, okay," I said. "Maybe just one more time. But I think that this should be the last time."
The excuse that I was using to myself was that having taught him how to fuck in his sleep, I might as well finish the job properly by teaching him how to fuck while he was awake.
We hurried upstairs and sat down on my bed. I don't think I've ever seen a look of greater excitement in anyone's eyes than that which I saw in Eddy's as he gazed at me. His hands were literally trembling a bit he was so turned on.
I undid my blouse, and he helped me take it off. Then, he nuzzled at my bra-covered breasts for a bit. He was obviously fairly tit-oriented, and couldn't even wait for me to get my globes uncovered.
I reached behind my back and unfastened the hooks. I really thought that he was going to pass out from excitement as soon as I pulled the white fabric away from my big tits.
For a moment he just gazed at them with his tongue hanging out, as if he couldn't believe that he really had his mother's tits hanging right there in front of his face.
"Go on," I said softly, "touch them if you want."
He reached his right hand out gingerly and took hold of my left breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. Maybe in a more usual sexual situation, that squeeze wouldn't have felt like much, but as it was, the knowledge that it was my son who was squeezing me there was really enough to send me round the bend.
His confidence started to increase, and he began to rub his hands in circles against my tits. It really felt so fine to be sitting there with his hands giving my tits that kind of a workout.
My clit was already swollen up to its full size, and drop after drop of pussy fluid was oozing out of my twat and onto the bedspread.
Despite the fact that he had been worried only the day before about not being a man, it so happened that Eddy had a very considerable amount of natural aptitude for sex. He slid one of his hands away from my tits and down my belly until he came to my crotch, which he cupped tenderly while pressing his fingers against my labia.
"Mmmm, you're good!" I exclaimed as I felt those curious fingers of his right on my most feminine and sensitive parts.
As a matter-of-fact, he was getting me so worked up that I was really becoming impatient to have that cock of his inside me.
I had unzipped his pants and hauled his tool out already. It was very hard and very, very fine. A nice long shaft topped by a big, fleshy knob. What female could possibly ask for more from her partner.
Every time I squeezed it he pressed his fingers hard against my cunt, and this escalated to the point where what we were more or less doing was beating each other off. This would have been fine except for the fact that I didn't want to waste Eddy's first shot like that. I wanted his spunk inside my twat!
"Eddy," I gasped, "how about you sticking it into me?"
"Okay, mom," he said, in the same cheerful, obedient tone he uses when I ask him to do something around the house. The look in his eyes told me, however, that for him, sticking his rod inside my body was not going to be a chore of any kind!
I lay back on the bed and spread my legs, while Eddy climbed aboard, his prick at the ready.
For a moment I wondered if I should give him any advice on how to go about fucking me, since the only other fuck he had had, the one of the night before, had featured him in an exclusively passive role.
I decided in the end to let him figure things out for himself. If he had any questions, I would be more than willing to answer them, but I didn't think it would be very good for his ego to have me give him a lot of advice that he hadn't yet shown he needed. After the passive fuck of the night before, what he needed now to convince himself beyond a shadow of a doubt of his own sexual prowess was a fuck in which he was in charge from beginning to end.
He seemed a bit clumsy about the way in which he placed himself on top of me, but I figured that he would learn soon enough. Then, he started moving his hips around, trying to jockey his cock into position. I was very tempted to suggest to him that he hold it with his hand until he was sure of having it pointed at the right place, but I managed to keep my mouth shut in the end.
Finally, he had the tip of his cock resting lightly between my soft and tingling cuntlips. He steadied himself for a moment, and then shoved on in.
Man, did it ever feel good to have his rod sliding into me like that. There was something a bit hesitant about the way in which he handled his tool, but again I figured that that was something which time would cure.
And there wasn't much time needed to cure it, either. The first couple of strokes were marred by a certain timidity, but after that he very quickly started to pick up a certain rather insistent rhythm which felt very, very nice.
In! Out! In! Out! He was taking charge all right, and I was loving every minute of it. His penis was slamming back and forth really vigorously, and every stroke pulled my labia over my aching clit in the most delicious way imaginable.
His hands weren't idle, either. They were kneading and caressing my tits with a firmness and a self-assurance that I wouldn't have expected in a fifteen-year-old boy. He really liked feeling my nipples up, too, and they were really throbbing with passion now.
In! Out! In! Out! My cunt was absolutely awash with pussy fluid, and getting wetter every second.
"Eddy! Eddy! Eddy!" I gasped as I felt his tool slam back and forth inside my tender femininity.
He didn't say anything. His teeth were clenched, and there was a look of real determination on his face. It was obvious that he planned on giving me the best fuck that I'd ever had, and it looked like he was going to succeed in doing so, too!
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
"Gotta come, Eddy,!" I sobbed, "gotta come!"
Just a few more strokes would do it. Just a few more....
One! Two! Three! Four!
The next one would do it! The next fucking one!
F-I-V-E!
THAT WAS IT! A sudden tidal wave of come-frenzy washed over me, and the only thing that I was aware of was the furious bucking and heaving of my pelvis, and the feel of his cock sending spurt after spurt of come up into me!
"EDDY!"
Man, oh man, oh man! We were really in orbit, cock locked in cunt, hips pulsating, muscles spasming!
We didn't say much for a while after that. We were too tuckered out to be able to say anything. But one thing I knew, and that was that this was not going to be the last time that I fucked with Eddy. Incest might be wrong, but I just couldn't help it. Compared with the rather inconsiderate action I got from Dan, who often came too soon anyway, the fuck which Eddy had given me was just outasight.
"Gee, mom," he said at last, "did you know that you're the most wonderful mom in the whole world?"
I hugged him when he said that. He was such a sweet, considerate child.
"Listen, Eddy," I said, "what would you like to do next? How would you like to learn about oral sex?"
"Oral sex? What's that?" he asked.
"That's where the guy and the girl use their mouths on each other's sex organs," I said. "It's really a lot of fun."
One thing was certain. After being initiated into sex by me the night before, and after having a really good come with me just now, Eddy was willing to follow my advice on sex without question. If I said that oral sex was nice, that was all that Eddy needed to believe that that was so.
"Do both people use their mouths at once during oral sex?" he asked.
"They can if they want to," I said. "In fact, I think that that's the best way. That's called a sixty-nine."
"How come?"
"I think because the two people fit together like a printed six and nine do," I said.
I lay out on the bed, and he lay in the opposite direction. I heard him give a couple of deep sniffs, and it was obvious that he was fascinated by the rich female odor emanating from my cunt.
Mind you, I wasn't any less fascinated with the prick that was lying in front of me all stiff, (there could be no doubt at all about Eddy being a two-shot man!) I had kissed it the night before, and I had felt it up, but I had never really had a good chance to look at it.
Well, it was worth looking at, there could be no doubt about that. It was long and hard-looking, and I gave a quick lick with my tongue to show just how nice I thought it was. Eddy's response to that was a gasp followed by a nice lick to my cunt. I could tell that this sixty-nine was really going to be something else.
Well, I was far too turned-on to waste much time with preliminaries, so I slipped my tongue over the knob and started to suck on it, while stroking the shaft with my hand.
Slurp! Eddy had obviously decided not to let any grass grow under his feet either, or maybe it would be more appropriate to say grow under his tongue. He pressed his tongue-tip right against my clit and rubbed hard, while my pelvis gave a quick series of shivers. I hoped that he wouldn't keep on licking my clit like that, though, nice though it felt, since that way I would be coming long before I had a chance to bring him off. Fortunately, he had enough basic "cunt-sense" to shift his attention to less sensitive spots after the first few licks. By "cunt-sense," incidentally, I mean that basic sense that some guys have instinctively and that others could never acquire in a million years as to what it is that really turns a cunt on and makes it happy.
I continued to suck away at the spot where his prick-knob joined the shaft. As I did so, I slid my tongue back and forth over his piss-hole, and stroked the shaft with one hand and the balls with the other. Judging from the hardness of the rod and the tightness of the balls, his whole masculine assembly seemed to really like what I was doing to it.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! Well, I sure liked what he was doing to my feminine assembly, there could be no doubt of any kind about that! He was running the tip of his tongue in every imaginable nook and cranny, and I'd never realized before just how sensitive my twat was!
Just when I was wondering if he would slip his tongue into my vagina, that's where he sent it, gliding on down and down and down, pressing against the slick cunt-walls as it went.
To vary the pace, I began sucking at Eddy's prick-root, and for a moment even took my lips off of his cock entirely so that I could take the balls in my mouth and press them around with my tongue. Of course, I didn't make his prick wait too long to feel my lips sliding over it again.
I felt like my back was going to break, my muscles were getting so tense, and my pussy was just one weltering mass of come-need. I knew that it wouldn't be very long at all until my cunt was blasting, and so I really concentrated on bringing him up to his come.
Lick! Lick! Lick! It was just incredible how he was able to get my pussy tied in knots the way he was!
Suddenly, my body seemed to go sort of numb, and I knew that in another second I would be coming. I pressed my tongue hard against his cock in an effort to get him off.
I was hanging right on the brink ... right on the brink....
And then I was going down the roller-coaster really fast, with my whole nervous system exploding in the most fantastic sort of fireworks.
I had gotten him off, too, and I felt his boy-cream squirt up against the back of my mouth. This was his second shot, but that sure didn't seem to be making any difference as far as the amount of jism that he had was concerned! He just kept pumping and pumping like there was no tomorrow.
Finally, my pelvis stopped heaving, though that didn't keep him from continuing to lick at my glistening wet pussy. All the while that I had been coming he had kept his face pressed against me there, and his tongue actively working.
I pressed my lips against his only slowly softening rod one last time, and then slipped them off of it, while being careful not to spill any of the sperm. There was so much of it in my mouth that a bit of it did get between my lips and ooze down my chin. That didn't matter too much, because there was still plenty left in my mouth.
I sloshed the stuff around between my cheeks with my tongue, and then swallowed it. Eddy finally took his mouth away from my pussy and sat up. Both of us felt very, very satisfied, and we knew without even having to discuss it that we qere going to want to continue with this as long as we possibly could.
Well, I felt a great deal happier from that day forth. Before, I'd always been sort of dissatisfied with Dan's lovemaking, and really resentful of his domineering manner. But now, that all just washed off of me like water off of a duck's back. Even when I was maddest at Dan, I could always think to myself, "well, I've always got Eddy!" And no matter how much of a bully Dan was being, I always knew that I was getting even, because behind his back his own son was regularly giving me what for with his prick!
It's a pity that things couldn't go on like that forever!
A few days ago, Dan was off at the plant as usual, and Eddy and I were getting ready for our normal fucking session. Every time that Dan went out the door, we couldn't help giving each other a conspiratorial wink.
We had gotten into the habit of trying out a lot of new positions, since we were both very anxious to keep a lot of excitement in our relations. This time, I suggested that we do a wheelbarrow.
"A wheelbarrow?" Eddy asked.
"Uh huh," I said. "I've never tried it before, and I don't even know if it's possible, but Madge lent me a book the other day that shows sexual positions through the ages. And they showed this one called a wheelbarrow which looks really interesting."
Eddy's always been perfectly willing to experiment, so he told me that if I would give him some idea of what it was that he was supposed to do, he'd be glad to try and wheelbarrow me.
I got onto my hands and knees and then rested my forearms on the carpet. Eddy got behind me, and took hold of my ankles and lifted, quickly moving his hands down to my thighs.
I'm a bit plump, I know, Doctor, but I'm not really very tall, so I don't weigh much, and Eddy's really quite big and strong for his age, even though he isn't at all interested in sports. So he didn't have any real difficulty supporting my weight.
Holding onto my thighs, he moved up close to my cunt and managed to position his cock so the tip of it was resting in my cunt. That wasn't all that easy, since the cock had to be bent down at a slight angle, but by bending his body forward and doing things like that he was finally able to get the end of his whanger inserted into me.
Then, he gave a thrust and shoved his tool the rest of the way in. After that, all he had to do was to keep pumping.
"Hey mom," he said, "this is really kind of neat! I mean, the way my prick is bent down feels pretty good!"
That caused a special kind of pressure on the inside of my cunt which was sort of exciting to me, too. Having my head pointed down made me just a tiny bit dizzy, and the pressure of my body made breathing a bit difficult, but that added a sort of interesting quality to the fuck. I mean, there wasn't any pain or discomfort of any kind.
In order to make the fuck more of a "wheelbarrow" I started moving forward on my forearms while Eddy followed me and pumped, but though that had both of us giggling, it obviously wasn't any too practical for the long haul, since it was very difficult for him to time his thrusts so that they corresponded to the walking motion.
So, after taking a few steps like that, we stopped in one place, and he continued to lay his prick into me with those fine, vigorous strokes of his. My only wish was that I could find some way of playing with my tits, but that really wasn't possible. In a dog-style fuck you can support yourself on one hand and use the other to entertain your breasts, but there less of your weight is resting on your arms.
In! Out! In! Out! Well, the tits didn't really matter, since my cunt felt so damn good. As a matter-of-fact, I knew that I was going to be coming very, very soon, and judging from the way in which Eddy was panting and gasping, and judging from the rampant stiffness of his cock, he wasn't very far from his blastoff too.
"Ed-dy! Ed-dy! Ed-dy!" I gasped in time to his rhythmic strokes. He was just about to get me off, and believe you me, I could hardly wait!
One more thrust, and there I was, coming like crazy, while he was shooting his load up into me.
"Jesus Christ!"
That was Dan's voice! I glanced at the door and saw him standing there. I heard Eddy give a gasp of horror, and for a dreadful moment I thought that he was going to drop me, which would have been kind of a disaster seeing as his prick was still inside me and still fairly stiff. But he managed to hold on.
"Eddy, get your prick out of your mother this instant!" Dan said with a snarl. Eddy pulled out, and gently lowered me to the ground.
Then his father walked up to him and slapped him hard on the face. He slapped me too, and then stomped out. I guess he went out for a drive to think things over. When he got back, he gave me the ultimatum about having to see a shrink or move out.
It is very interesting to see how elements in this case are to be found in two of the others which we have already studied. Mrs. P.'s wife Dan has a certain resemblance to Margaret T.'s Pete, though Mrs. P. has made a somewhat less successful adjustment to her husband. Or perhaps he is harder to adjust to.
In both cases, the men are superficially "super-masculine" types who are really very insecure about their masculinity. As a result, they are constantly trying to assert themselves by bullying their wives. The latter accept a certain amount of this because as females they have been raised to be passive. But that does not prevent them from feeling a very considerable amount of resentment at the way in which they are treated. Their sons become instruments of revenge, for both women are aware that there are few things which the average man would find more degrading than to be cuckolded by his own son. Masters and others have pointed out the importance of tension between husband and wife in fostering parent-child incest. As Masters says, "rejection by one of the marriage partners may force the other frustrated partner to develop a sexual interest in one of their children."(1)
This rejection can, of course, be either physical (which is what Masters appears to be alluding to primarily there) or psychological. It is a feeling of psychological, emotional rejection which seems most important in the case of Margaret T. and Brenda P. It is interesting to note how in both cases the quiet, polite sons possess the very qualities which the women see as lacking in their tough, emotionally cold husbands.
If there is a marked similarity between certain features of Mrs. T.'s case and that of Brenda P., it is not just limited to the kinds of husbands the two women had. With both of them, the precipitating factor in the incestuous relationship was a date by their sons with a girl of his own age. At first the two situations seem rather unlike, for Frank's date was a success, while Eddy's was a dismal failure. But this should not blind us to the importance of the fact that both women, on the threshold of middle age, take an inordinate interest in their sons' sexual activity. There is obviously a great deal of fantasy involvement, including above all a desire to be young again like the girls whom their sons take out. A desire to minimize age difference is cited by Masters as an important cause of incestuous activity.(2)
Other features of Brenda T.'s sexual involvement with her son are very commonly found in ncest cases. For instance, the way in which she acts as sexual instructress and initiatrice. And also, the way in which she used the fact that he was sleeping as a cover to her sexual advances. This is a surprisingly common ploy, and one which serves to relieve both partners of the guilt they might otherwise feel. I say both partners because I agree with Stekel that it is un-likely that anyone could really sleep through consummated intercourse, least of all a male who is brought to ejaculation. (One might have more success with a female whom one did not bring to orgasm.) A favorite variant of this is intoxication. There are, of course, cases of incest occurring because intoxication has removed inhibitions, but there is also the phenomenon of people drinking themselves into a stupor for just this purpose in a classic accident-on-purpose pattern. As Masters says, "there are several cases of mothers who have drunk themselves into such stupors apparently to make themselves available (while sparing themselves guilt) to sons who then "attacked" them.
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1. Masters, op. cit., p. 195
2. Masters, op. cit., p. 68
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Of course, the behavior of Mrs. P. in regard to her sleeping son involved only partial concealment of what was going on, since it was her intention to wake him up, and though the whole elaborate plan she had to reassure him of his virility has a considerable element of rationalization to it, it was also clearly to a large degree quite sincere and indeed rather well thought-out.
In any forbidden activity there is usually a certain desire to get caught, and that may have been present here, though I tend to think not to a very high degree. While Mrs. Jane A. "got careless" with her son Roger, Mrs. P. and her son were careful only to have sex when the husband was off at the factory. In a subsequent interview it turned out that the reason he was home early was that an accident in the factory had shut down the assembly line.
The preceding patients came in because their consciences were troubling them, but Brenda P. faced the additional problem of extreme pressure from her husband to alter her behavior. So with her, simply dealing with the guilt would not be enough. She would have to give up her incestuous relations or face unpleasant consequences such as a possible denunciation to the law.
She has decided to stay with her husband for the time being, but in therapy as her resentment of him surfaces, she becomes increasingly uncertain that she wishes to remain married to him. Hopefully, therapy will enable her to make a decision on that basis which reflects her true desires and best interests.
The fact that she is now verbalizing her resentment of her husband has caused a certain tapering off of her incestuous desires, which, as I remarked earlier, had a strong element of revenge to them. She still finds herself lusting after her son, though, and this is a source of considerable frustration to her, since her husband watches over them like a hawk.
The therapy seems to be moving in the direction of her ultimately leaving her husband and finding a man of her own age who can give her the sexual and emotional satisfaction which she sought with her son. Certainly in some respects that would be the most practical solution to her difficulties.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
Eric W. was a student in a high school where I was substituting one day a week for a friend of mine who was the regular counsellor and was down with flu. Before Eric showed up for his appointment, I glanced down at his dossier and saw the he was a highly regarded sixteen-year-old who got good grades and never seemed to be in any trouble.
When he arrived I saw that he was neatly groomed and polite, but also very nervous. As he sat opposite me, he was making a substantial effort not to bit his fingernails, but he was not succeeding very well.
I place a high value on spontaneity, and for that reason, usually give a patient a chance to say whatever might be on his mind before I start questioning him, but it was obvious that Eric was too uptight to be able to say much of anything without prompting. In fact, the way in which he kept looking at the door indicated that he was rather sorry to have come through it. So, I decided to get the ball rolling.
"Well, Eric," I said, "what can I do for you?"
"Gee, I dunno, Doctor," he said, giving another glance at the door.
"Wish you were going out it?" I asked with a smile.
"No ... I mean, well, kinda...."
"Things really as bad as all that?"
"Uh huh," he said quickly nodding his head. "Yes, they really are. But I don't know if you can do anything about them."
"I don't know either," I said, "but you never can tell. Why don't you try me?"
"What I say in here to you won't go on my record, will it?"
"Nope. It's completely confidential. I have a notepad and pencil, but that's just to take notes for myself."
"Well, okay," he said, and then added, after a heavy silence, "You're not going to believe this, Doc, but ... I ... fuck my mother!"
The tone of voice he said that in indicated that as far as he was concerned, it wouldn't have been any worse to have to own up to the fact that he was the devil in person.
"Listen, Eric," I said, "you'd be surprised at the number of things that people don't think I'm going to believe, and most of them are things that I've heard dozens and dozens of times before."
"You mean that other guys have told you that they fucked their mothers?" he asked, eager for reassurance of knowing that he was not the only person who had ever committed this "frightful" act.
"Oh yes, all the time," I said, with complete truthfulness. "Now here's something that you may not believe, Eric, but which is true for all that. Literally every single person goes through a stage of wanting to have sex with the parent of the opposite sex. It's just that some of these people never get beyond wanting to, and don't even admit to themselves that they do want to. But they do just the same."
The look of relief on Eric's face was really something gratifying to behold. He was able to face himself again, instead of thinking that he was some sort of frightful monster of perversity. That did not mean that he didn't still feel anxious and guilty about what he'd done with his mother, but at least the guilt and anxiety had been brought down to somewhat manageable proportions.
"Well, Doc," he said, "I guess you'd like me to tell you all about it?"
"That's right."
"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath, and then he began....
My dad died five years ago, and though I was sort of young then, as far as I can remember, he was a really neat guy. And he and my mother always seemed to get along well, though at the age I was, I guess you don't notice all the details of your mother and father's relationship.
Mom's a good woman, there's no question about that. She really worked hard to keep things going and to bring me up right. Which is what makes it kind of hard for me to imagine how this incest thing could get started. Anyway, after dad's death, she never dated or anything. I figured that the reason was that she'd loved dad so much that she didn't think that anyone else would be able to replace him.
As I started to get older, it was really sort of funny what an interest mom took in my sex life. I guess I was only about twelve when she said, "you know, Eric, if you'd like to take some girl out for a pizza or a soda, I'd be glad to give you the money for it."
Well, I've always kind of liked girls, and when I was about thirteen, I started to take her up on her offer. Heck, I figured, if it gave her pleasure to let me have the money to spend on dates, I wasn't going to complain.
Occasionally, she'd ask me if I'd had a good time, but she was never nosey, if you know what I mean.
Well, as I got older, it goes without saying that I started to move onto more serious things with girls. And about six months ago I had sex with my steady for the first time. There weren't any problems, and I figured that sex was pretty neat.
Two months ago, mother went out to play bridge with her friends, and I invited my girl Susan over. My idea was that we could spend a nice evening together watching T.V. and fucking.
Both of us were more interested in the fucking than in the T.V., and it wasn't long before I had Susan's blouse and bra off, and her skirt hiked up around her waist. She had unfastened my pants and pulled my cock out into the open. Man, was I ever hard. I don't mean to say that to boast, I just want to make clear to you how the things that came later managed to take place. For some reason or another, I was just incredibly hard, with my cock literally aching for a chance to get into Susan's twat. It had been there before, liked it, and, was very eager to get back there.
I reached out and pulled Susan's panties down. She was giggling as the wet nylon (and was it ever wet! She's an unbelievably soggy girl when it comes to between-the-legs action) away from her tender cunt. She gave my prick an extra hard squeeze, and I thought for a moment that I was going to come right then and there all over her hand. Not that that would have really mattered, though, since I felt so horny that I wouldn't have had any difficulty at all managing a second shot right away.
I pulled the panties the rest of the way down, and got on top of her. Just as the tip of my prick touched the delicate pink folds of her cunt, I heard the door open and my mom say, "excuse me!"
And she really meant it, too! It wasn't sarcasm, or anything, becuase the next thing I heard was the click of the door closing again.
I guess we could have gone right ahead and fucked, but somehow mom's unexpected entrance had sort of spoiled things for us. It seemed ... in sort of bad taste for us to screw away like that with her sitting in another part of the house. Susan was so embarrassed, anyway, that she was on the verge of tears, and no longer in the mood for fucking. And one thing I will not do is force a girl to fuck when she doesn't really want to.
Susan put on her clothes hurriedly, and I escorted her to the door. She only lived a few houses down the street, and she said she'd walk home alone. I think that she felt so humiliated that she didn't want to be with anyone else at all.
As for me, I just didn't know what the hell to do. It was hard enough for me to figure out what my mother had meant by excusing herself and closing the door. I would have thought that she would hit the ceiling.
At any rate, it seemed that I'd better go and apologize to her. I knocked on her door and found her lying on the bed in a bathrobe reading a magazine. She didn't look like she was mad in the least.
"Mom," I said, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened...."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Eric," she said, "I'm the one who should be making apologizing. Of course a healthy young man like you wants to have sex with your girl. When I came home early from my bridge game with a headache, I should have realized that instead of barging in on you like I did."
I really felt embarrassed to have mom making apologies to me like that, and I tried to tell her again about how sorry I was to have been doing what I was in her house.
"Oh for heaven's sake," she said again. "Here, sit down on the bed and give me a kiss to show your mother that you're not mad at her."
She kept insisting, you see, that I was the one who should be angry. Anyway, I sat down and gave her a kiss. The way she kissed me back was pretty much the way she always did, so I didn't notice anything special about it, but then, I've never had any other mother to kiss, so I never noticed anything odd about it. It's just that no looking back on what happened it seems to me that there was never much difference between the kinds of kisses that I got from my mother and that that Susan gave me....
"I bet you must really be pretty horny, the way you had to chase your girl away before finishing with her," mom said with a smile.
"Oh ... uh mom ... I don't ... uh ... think so ... ," I stammered, sort of embarrassed by the turn that the conversation seemed to be taking.
"Now Eric," she said teasingly, "you can't keep secrets from your mother, you know. And she's too liberal about sex for you to want to, either. But I have ways of telling!"
And she pressed her hand against my crotch. I guess that my rod was still a bit hard and was making sort of a bulge. Or maybe she was just pretending that she saw a bulge there when there wasn't really one there at all. But if there wasn't, there was as soon as she finished pressing her hand there!
"Uh, mom ... ," I said, starting to really wonder what was going on.
"Hush!" she said gently. "I don't know why you're always trying to convince yourself that your mother is some sort of old fuddy duddy who doesn't understand anything about sex!"
Well, there was sure one thing that she understood about sex, and that was how to rub a guy's crotch. She was using her fingers to sort of knead my tool, and it was responding by pressing up against my jeans like it was trying to burst through them.
"Mom ... ," I said again, but already my resistance was starting to go. The more she rubbed me there, the more I found myself wondering what she would look like if I pulled open her bathrobe to expose her breasts. She was wearing her usual cologne, and mingled with that was a vague sort of female odor that was really starting to get to me.
"Here, now, mom'll take care of you so that you won't have to feel all frustrated," she said. And she pulled down the zipper on my jeans.
Wham! My cock really punched out hard against my underpants in its desire to be free of constraint. She gave it a squeeze through the white fabric, and then pulled it all the way clear, so that it could swell up to its full length.
It was such a relief for it to no longer be jammed in my clothes that I hardly stopped to consider that it was my mom who had her fingers around it and was now rubbing it gently.
"What about mom?" she asked. "Hmmm? Doesn't she get anything too? Or is she too old for her son to want to give her anything."
She already had me so worked up with that hand-action on my prick that as soon as I heard that I gave up all attempts to fight the desire boiling up inside me. Mom had guessed right in the first place: being interrupted when I was with Susan really had left me tied up in knots, and once mom got her hand around my prick and started squeezing it with that gentle, insistent way that she had, it was more than I could possible resist.
I don't want to give you the impression that I'm trying to put all the blame for what happened onto mom. It takes two to tango, and if I'd had better self-control, I guess that I would have just asked mom if I could be excused, or something like that. But I don't have that kind of self-control, particularly because mom is really such a fine-looking woman.
When she asked me if I thought she was too old for me to be interested in her, all I could think of was how absurd that suggestion was, and how much I wanted to prove to her that I still regarded her as a very, very desirable woman. I pressed my lips hungrily against hers, and slid my right hand into her bathrobe so that I could get ahold of mom's left breast.
Mom's breasts are one of her best features. They're high, and round, and very, very nice. Around the house, she'd sometimes go without a bra, saying that she was more comfortable that way. And when she walked her tits jiggled in a very, very enticing way.
Well, there was sure no bra of any kind in the way at the moment, and it only took a second for me to take a luscious boob in my hand and start to squeeze and caress it.
I guess her tits must be really kind of sensitive, because as soon as I started to do that, she arched her back and squeezed my cock all the harder. It was obvious that the feel of my hand on her tit was very definitely something which turned her on.
My fingers found the nipple and began to rub and chafe it. It was already a bit swollen, but it didn't take too much of that action for the thing to just about double in size, and I could tell from the way in which mom's shoulders quivered whenever I touched it just how sensitive the nub was.
I pushed her bathrobe all the way open with my other hand, and then placed that hand on her crotch. It was so fantastically warm and furry-and wet! My hand hadn't been pressing it for two seconds when I noticed that it was as wet as if I'd stuck it in a sink full of water. Only this wasn't water, but pussy juice which had dribbled from mom's delectable cunt!
I pressed my fingers against the buttery cunt-flesh, and mom's hips shuddered. We were Frenching by now, so you couldn't say anything, but the way in which she pressed her tongue against mine indicated just how much I had turned her on with my hand action on her tit and cunt.
Suddenly she pulled her mouth away from mine and gasped, "in me! Put it in me!"
In the state I was, I was more than happy to oblige. I placed myself on top of mom, positioned my rod, and shoved it in with one great, hearty shove, while she gave a long, low sigh of ecstasy.
The idea of having my cock inside mom was so exciting that I nearly went off with that first shove. I could really feel myself there on the brink, but I managed to keep myself under control, and after a minute or two of lying very, very still and trying not to think of the fact that I had my penis inside her, I had myself back under control.
Mom was looking up at me with a look of-and I know this sounds funny-adoration. As if I were dad come back, or something. I've never seen anyone look happier, or for that matter, hornier.
Now that my cock had cooled down a little bit, I was able to think about giving mom a humping. I pulled back very slowly, and noticed that I was still below the boiling point. I could fuck away for a while at least without having to worry about coming before mom was ready.
I pulled way, way back, until only the head of my cock was resting inside her body, and then I shoved back in, slowly and steadily, while mom gave a long gasp of pleasure. Out again. In again. Out again. In again.
I pressed my lips to hers once more, and our tongues took up their little wrestling match where they had left off. I soon forgot about everything but the sensation of her tongue against my tongue, her tit against my hand, and her cunt clutching at my frantic prick. And having forgotten about everything but that, I could give myself wholeheartedly to fucking her.
I was sliding back and forth pretty fast now, and my cock was starting to get worked up again. Mom's a really wet female, and since she provided plenty of lubricant, I was able to hit a really pretty quick tempo which I really liked. Judging from the way mom's body bucked and wriggled underneath me, it seemed that she really liked it too.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was really having to gasp for breath through my nostrils-: don't forget, I was Frenching-as the pace got more and more frantic. But breathing seemed like something that was pretty unimportant, compared to this fantastic sensation which I had around my cock. Mom had a fine, taut cunt, and a very responsive one, too. Every thrust of mine brought a little counterthrust of her pelvis, and every time I plunged my tool into her, I could feel her pussy contract around it as if she wanted to keep me from ever being able to withdraw it.
In! Out! In! Out! Riding, riding, riding, riding!
I couldn't believe how hot I was I just had to spew! Just had to! Just had to!
And I was going to, too, whether mom was ready or not. The way in which her cunt clutched at my tool seemed a pretty good indication of the fact that she was every bit as ready as I was, however.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! BINGO!
My cock seemed to go numb, and then felt like the sensations racing through it were going to tear it apart. It was gushing, gushing, gushing, pouring out everything I had in my balls, pouring out all the stuff that I had been planning on giving to Susan, filling my mother's cunt with my sperm!
What a come! What a freaking, fucking come! Unnatural or not, I sure know one thing, and that is that I've never had a come anywhere that was even half as good as that one. When I was finished, when my cock had shuddered out its last few drops of spunk I just lay on top of mom like some beached whale, panting for breath. She was panting too, and our bodies heathed up and down rhythmically as we sought to fill our lungs with the air we needed after that wild, wild ride.
Finally I pulled my cock out and flopped onto my back next to mom. I was still panting, and just lay there gazing up at the ceiling. It was a lot easier to pant and gaze at the ceiling than it was to face some of the thoughts which kept creeping into my mind.
"Eric," mom said, "you were fantastic."
She said that kind of timidly, and I got the impression that though she perhaps meant it, she was really saying it in place of something else which was a lot harder to say. Some explanation, or something, about what we'd just done together.
"You're not sorry we fucked, are you?" she asked.
"No," I said, "I'm really not." And certainly at that moment that was true, because the memory of what a fantastic come I'd just had still lingered in my mind. So my words carried a ring of conviction to them.
"Maybe we'd better not do it again, though," she said gently.
"No," I answered, "maybe we shouldn't."
I got up from the bed, gave mom a friendly kiss, said goodnight, and headed off for my room.
Man, you'd better believe that I had some trouble going to sleep that night! In fact, I kept tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should do, or what I should think. Imagine, fucking with my own mom! I don't have a whole lot of hangups, and in fact I generally consider myself a fairly modern sort of guy. But that was something which even I found a bit tough to chew.
Mom had said that we had better not fuck any more, .and I agreed that she was probably right on that score.
"Well," I thought, "if we've just done it once I guess that's not too much to worry about. I certainly had an excuse for my behavior, namely that I had been interrupted right when I was at my horniest, and that mom had made advances when I was least capable of resisting them. Not that I was trying to blame mom. I just wanted to somehow understand my own behavior, because I really felt sort of ashamed at what I had done."
If I had fucked mom because I was so horny, why had she made the big play for me she did? Because she was horny? That certainly stood to reason, seeing as she hadn't had any prick inside her since dad died five years ago, at least not that I knew.
"Take a couple of horny people, and I guess things like that sometimes happen," I thought. "Maybe I should encourage mom to start going out with guys her own age. That would take the pressure off of her a bit. After all, she's only thirty-nine, and there's no reason that she should consider her sex life all wound up at that age."
Having reached these conclusions, I was finally able to go to sleep.
Breakfast the next morning was really a little bit weird. By that I mean that we both made a real effort to pretend that nothing at all had happened the night before that might have given us something special to talk about. We sat and ate together, and mom made all sorts of small-talk with me about my courses, and my teachers, and stuff like that. The only thing she didn't ask me about were the girls I knew, which was sort of unusual.
Well, I wasn't too keen on rehashing the events of the night before either, so I played along with the game and helped make idle conversation.
And that's how things continued for several days. I really thought the incident was closed, and when I next saw Susan (at her place, when her parents were very definitely out) I really enjoyed the fuck that I had with her. It was sort of a relief to see that I could enjoy a fuck with her as much as I had enjoyed the' fuck with mom. It indicated to me that I wasn't funny on my mother or anything like that.
Maybe I should have left well enough alone, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for mom, who didn't have any sex life of any kind at all. So one evening, after dinner, I said to her, "you know, mom, I'm sometimes afraid that you get kind of lonely. I'll bet that if you hinted you were available, there are all sorts of nice guys who'd be interested in taking you out. You'd probably get some good meals out of it if nothing else."
She gave me a really sad look and said, "are you that eager to get your mother off of your back?"
"What do you mean, mom?"
"Oh, I don't know. I guess that I'm being unfair. I just thought that maybe you'd be relieved to know that someone else was taking care of her."
That was emotional blackmail, and I knew it. The trouble was, that since I felt sorry for mom, I didn't really have any clear idea of what to do about it. Certainly I knew what kind of double meaning she wanted to give the phrase "take care of."
"Mom," I said gently, "I thought that we had sort of agreed never to talk about that again."
"I know," she said, "I'm being selfish." I think she was being sincere when she said that, and the tear which trickled down her left cheek was genuine too. She just wasn't aware of the game that she was playing.
I was aware, but like I said, Doc, I just didn't know how to respond.
"It's just ... it's just that I get so lonely!" she said, and her voice trembled. I wanted so much to comfort her that I went over and kissed her, even though I think I knew in the back of my mind what that kiss would probably lead to.
She got up from the chair and took my hand. I knew she was going to lead me to her bedroom, and I followed. What could I do. There wasn't anything triumphant in the way she led me. It wasn't as if she had finally attained a carefully planned for goal. She was more like a child who finally gets something that he feels he can't do without.
I'm afraid, Doc, that maybe I'm giving the impression that I was some virtuous victim unable to help himself, or maybe sacrificing himself for his mother. Well, I don't want to give that impression, because it isn't accurate, and I would rather face up to the facts. It's true that part of the reason that I played along with mom was that I felt sorry for her. But like I said, she's a fine looking woman, and as soon as it had been more or less settled that I was going to follow her to her room and fuck her, my prick started to swell up hard against the confinement of my pants.
Somehow, when we got to her room, it seemed natural that I should undress her, and it was a pleasant task to perform. First I took off her sweater, then her skirt, and after feeling her tits and cunt up a bit through her underwear, I removed that too. There she stood in front of me, with her high tits and lovely furry cunt. For the life of me I wouldn't be able to say whether the fact that she was my mother heightened or lessened the pleasure that I felt at seeing her there naked in front of me. A bit of both, I think.
"Why don't you take me dog-style?" she asked.
"Fine by me, mom," I said. In fact, I'd never had a female that way before, but I figured that I'd be able to dope out what to do. Fucking is one of those things like driving a car. It isn't nearly as hard to do as people who haven't done it before tend to think.
Mom got down on the bed on her hands and knees, with her lovely little cunt peeking at me. It really was a delightful pussy, too. It had a nice amount of fluff curling around it, and the cuntlips were a really delicate shade of pink. They were just the right size, too. Big enough for a guy to be able to get his fingers around them, but at the same time not so big as to be gross-looking.
As a matter-of-fact, they looked so delightful that I reached out and gave them a gentle little pull. Mom's gasp of delight told me again just how incredibly sensitive she was down between her legs.
I gave another little tweak and then pressed my lips against her twat. The feel of her soft labia on my mouth was a real turn on, and my already very erect cock tried in vain to stiffen up even more.
Mind you, although these preliminaries were nice, my tool was pretty eager to get a piece of the action, so I pulled my lips away from mom's pussy and sidled up behind her, whanger at the ready.
I gave a playful little poke against her clit with the end of my prick, and for a moment I thought that she was going to come right then and there. There was no question about it, she was really very, very hot to trot.
I moved my cock down a little bit so that the knob was positioned where her hole was, and then I moved on in to her.
Partly for variety's sake, and partly to tease her, I didn't just shove in like I had the last time I fucked her. Instead I eased my cock in very, very slowly. Not inch by inch, but centimeter by centimeter.
"I've got to have it!" she gasped. "I've got to have that prick of yours! I've got to have it now!"
In. In. In. In. Bit by bit. I could tell from the tone of her voice that though she was really frantic for my cock, she was also enjoying this teasing that she was getting.
My cock was enjoying itself too. Man, did I ever feel stiff! And the tightness of her cuntwalls as I slowly forced them apart was really something else. She was already quite wet, but not yet as wet as she would get later, so there was a wonderful sort of friction which would have been a nuisance if it lasted on into the fuck, but which as it was was really delightful.
Finally I had my rod all the way inside mom, and I rested with it there for a moment. Then, I started to pump.
At first, I went really, really slowly. That was partly to keep up the little game which I had started when I had inserted my rod. It was also because going slowly, I could really savour the sort of funny suction that I got from her cunt with every backstroke of mine.
The more excited I got, the more I started to pump, however, and pretty soon I had worked up to the really fast rhythm which I had had the first time I fucked mom. It's funny, because when I fuck Susan, I don't go nearly that fast, for some reason. It's just that that particular tempo seems right for mom, somehow. And judging from the pleasure which she seems to get out of our fucks, I guess it probably is the speed that's best for her.
As I bucked away inside her, I certainly wasn't ignoring her dangling tits. Almost as soon as I had gotten my cock into her I had reached forward to cup them in my hands, and the way they hung down like they did really turned me on for some reason.
I pressed them up against her chest, and then let them flop down. I also took hold of the nipples and pulled the tits in opposite directions. Then I let go, so that they flopped together. From the giggles and gasps of pleasure which this brought forth from mom, it was pretty obvious that I wasn't hurting her, and that she really liked what I was doing to her tits.
She also really liked what I was doing to her cunt, by the way. Her hips kept jiggling and quivering as I thrust my rod again and again into her pussy.
My prick felt so horny that with every thrust I was almost sure that it was going to go off whether I wanted it to or not, but I guess that maybe it had more self-control than I thought it did, because although it was almost literally quivering on the brink, it still didn't fire until I had mom right at the boiling point.
Not that that took very long. I could tell after only a few minutes from the feel of her cunt, from the way in which it clutched at my cock, from the way in which her hips trembled and her breath came in short little gasps, that she was going to be coming very, very soon.
In! Out! In! Out!
Almost there! Almost! Almost!
In I went one more time, and as I did so, I leaned forward and kissed mom on the neck. I don't know whether it was the thrust or the kiss, but the next instant, she was coming like mad around my cock, and the feel of her pulsating vagina was easily enough to set me a blasting too, so that my rod was firing into her in hot, hard gushes while she came, and came, and came.
This time, we were a bit more talkative after our fuck than we had been the first time. I guess the reason for that was that we had sort of dealt with the guilt thing, or at least we weren't so shocked by what we had done as we had been the first time.
Mom suggested that we have a beer while resting up, and as we sat and sipped our beer and chatted, I noticed not for the first time how really charming mom is. That bit with her pitying herself and saying how lonely she was doesn't sound like the sort of thing you would expect from a charming person, but now that she was sure she had what she wanted (namely me), there wasn't any of that, and instead of self-pity, I got very witty conversation, real friendliness, the whole works. Women are funny, I guess.
Mind you, we both have pretty big sexual appetites, so it wasn't long before the small talk took on a sort of sexual tinge, and-it wasn't long before each of us was giving quick little glances to the other's sexual equipment.
My prick had already started to stiffen up again (afte sail, it isn't easy to stay relaxed when you're naked and sitting next to a good-looking naked woman who also happens to be your mother), and as soon as mom reached over and gave it one of those little squeezes of her, it got back to just about its maximum possible hardness.
"Shall we sixty-nine?" mom asked. I told her that was fine by me, as indeed it was, since I've always rather liked oral sex. After all, what's more delightful than a cunt, and if it's so delightful, what could possibly be nicer than getting your face right up close to it.
Mom lay on her back, and I positioned myself over her, with my body raised slightly on my knees. I felt in a playful mood, and as soon as I felt her lips starting to close around my knob, I raised my hips quickly, thereby taking my equipment out of her reach. Then I would lower it and play the game all over again.
Finally, though, she lunged faster than I could move my meat out of the way, and she closed her teeth gently behind my knob. Not in a way that hurt or anything, but so that I couldn't pull my prick free. With that, I surrendered, and lowered my hips all the way so that she could get at my cock without any difficulty.
In fact, I was glad to surrender, since the sight of that luscious cunt of hers right there in front of my face made me very eager to get past the hors d'oeuvres and onto the main course, the main course being that glistening love-juice which covered her dainty female lips.
As she started to suck my prick, I sent my tongue darting out against her clit. That sure brought forth a shudder of delight! I licked her twice more there, and then, not wanting to get her worked up too fast, I started sliding my tongue-tip around her labia, which were sensitive, all right, but nothing like as sensitive as her clit.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! Man, that cunt-dringle of hers was so good that I didn't think I could ever get enough of it, but I knew that I was sure going to try! I sent my tongue darting into every little nook and cranny, and all the while that I did so, I inhaled her delicate female odor with big whiffs through the nostrils.
Mind you, she wasn't doing a bad job on my prick, either. Her lips were sliding back and forth along its length, and her tongue was providing it with all sorts of really nice little extra sensations. Not to mention the fact that I had my balls firmly surrounded by her fingers, which kept pressing and squeezing on me there in a really exciting manner! I slid my tongue on down into her vagina. Wow! There's really nothing like the feel of a girl's pussy pressing against your tongue. The way women are just so warm, and wet, and wonderful down there!
I sort of hoped that if I extended my tongue all the way, I might be able to touch the entrance to her womb, but I just wasn't able to. Well, that didn't matter, I was enjoying myself plenty pressing my tongue-tip against her cunt walls. And then I pulled my tongue' up really fast so as to get some more cunt-juice into my mouth.
She was still sucking away, and I could tell that I was going to be coming pretty soon. As I felt my cock start to go numb-not really numb, but you know the feeling I mean, the one you get when you're just about to come-I slid my tongue against her clit and rubbed it very hard.
Just as my rod started to spew, her pussy exploded against my face. Exploded is the word, too. Her pelvis really bucked and heaved, shoving her crotch against me. That didn't bother me, and I sort of rode with her come, keeping my lips pressed against her labia and trying to suck up as much of her fast-flowing pussy juices as I could.
That was our second fucking-session, and since then it's been sort of an understanding between us that I fuck her regularly. We never talk much about it, but it's just something that's expected.
Now don't get me wrong, I really enjoy the physical action that I get off of mom. She's very good in that department, if you know what I mean. But lately, I've been feeling more and more bothered by the fact that I screw my mother. After all, it really is something that's looked down on by our society, and besides, I have my own girlfriend. What would Susan say if she knew that the cock she had in her pussy one night was in my own mother's pussy the next? She'd have a fit. And so, anyway, Doc, that's why I thought I'd come and see you, to find out what a professional thinks about all this hairy stuff.
Eric was an extremely intelligent, articulate boy, and in one session he had managed to tell me a very great deal about the incestuous situation in which he found himself.
The most obvious fact was that Eric himself was an essentially well-balanced individual, who was unable to extricate himself from an emotionally difficult situation largely because he was so decent. He preferred sex with his girlfriend to sex with his mother, and though the fact that his mother is a physically attractive female leads to his finding physical pleasure in his relations with her, it is obvious that he is basically telling the truth when he indicates that the real reason that he continues the incestuous affair is that he does not know any way of terminating it without hurting his mother.
Nor are his fears on this score exaggerated, for if Eric basically "had his head together," Mrs. W. equally obviously did not.
When a woman loses a dearly-beloved husband, there are two reasonable responses: she can decide not to try and match the success of the first relationship, or she can seek around for another partner. Needless to say these responses are suited in varying degrees to different women, depending upon their temperament. But Eric's mother is trying to have her cake and eat is too, and that is an essentially child-like way of dealing with the situation.
After her husband's death, she obviously decided (subconsciously, of course) to simply replace him with her son, who after all was his son too, and thus a part of him. She wanted him back, and since she couldn't actually have him, she worked through fantasy. Eric told about how from an early age she seemed interested in his sex life, and it seems clear that what this interest represented was a transference of her desire to actually have him as her sexual partner. What complicates the situation is that though she wanted him as a sexual partner, this in turn was a transference, since she was attributing to him the role that belonged to her deceased husband. By fantasy, she was making him into her husband.
It would seem that as he grew older, and his sexual life became more of a reality, her own libido began to assert itself more and more vigorously. She was, after all, still in her thirties, and it is not surprising that the original sublimation started to break down, with the sexual component of her fantasy coming more and more to the fore.
Thus, when the opportunity presented itself, she immediately made a play for her son, and thereby managed to transform fantasy into reality.
That is the sort of behavior that one might wish to term aggressive, but as I have said before, these terms can be misleading if one isn't careful. She was the aggressor in that she instigated the incestuous relationship and provided the pressure which kept it going more or less against the wishes of her partner. But the way she did this involved playing a role of seeming helplessness and passivity. When Eric suggested that he did not want to have sexual relations with her again, she behaved like a child who had had a promised treat cancelled, and he caved in. Paradoxically, being extremely weak, or pretending to be, is one of the most effective forms of domination that there is, since the other person feels like a bully if he asserts himself. Thus, although Eric was perceptive enough to see just what the game was that his mother was playing, he was unable to see any way out of the dilemma in which she had placed him.
"Domination by weakness" is a very effective technique for manipulating others, but it is also essentially childish, and here we see the tie-in with Mrs. W.'s failure to make an adult adjustment to the fact of her husband's death. It might be added that Mrs. W. possibly shared with some of the other women in this study a fear of men, or at least a fear of being unable to relate to them effectively. For such women, the son, who represents a known quality, and who can be manipulated emotionally without too much difficulty (even when he is highly intelligent, as Eric W. is) is a comfortably "safe" choice for a sexual partner.
Although Eric originally came to me burdened with guilt, it was obvious that no real psychological harm had been done to him. He was confused about how he should act with his mother, but he knew what he really wanted, namely a girl his own age. Since it is not good for anybody to be manipulated on a long-term basis, however, I had him come to me several times so I could help him sort out his feelings about his mother.
Soon he was able to see that although he loved her (as a son), he was not morally responsible for catering to all of her own weaknesses at the cost of his own peace of mind. Thus, gradually, he was able to assert himself to the point of refusing to continue with the incestuous relationship. He did this with considerable tact and sensitivity, however, and while encouraging his mother to see a psychiatrist. She finally agreed to do so, and though the road ahead of her looks long and difficult, it is to be hoped that she will eventually be able to adjust to the idea of having someone other than her son as a sexual partner.
CONCLUSION
The reader has now read five case-studies detailing incestuous relations between mothers and sons, and of course he is free to draw his own conclusions. There are, however, a number of things which I would like him to think about.
First, as to the causes of such relations: should he agree with the statement that "there is no single or simple motivation for such intercourse; there is no typical 'incest offender' (or 'victim'). There is no inexorable and inevitable consequence of all incest behavior."(1)
My own feeling is that the evidence given in this collection both affirms and contradicts the above statement. Certainly the casualty of incest is complicated, and we have seen in the preceding five cases how varied both the origins incestuous affairs and the personalities of their participants can be. Just consider, for instance, the difference between the crude insensitivity of Jimmy R. and the sympathetic perceptivity of Eric W.
Nevertheless, it seems to me that there are certain themes common to almost all of the cases given above. The first and most obvious is the lack of a satisfactory sexual partner for the mother. The father is either dead, away often, or of unpleasant personality. Deprivation is a motivating factor in incest which should not be overlooked lightly.(2)
And in the boys, a frequent factor was a sense of sexual insecurity of the sort common to adolescents but perhaps particularly acute in their cases. I have mentioned how older women seek sexual relations with boys to minimize their age.(3)
The reverse is also true. Jimmy R., for instance, found a definite satisfaction in having sexual relations with a mature woman, quite aside from the fact that she happened to be his mother.
Also, for both mother and son, the incest object-choice is "safer". The partner is a known quantity, and the other emotional ties between the two of them make mutual manipulation easier. There are no surprises. That is why one should not be astonished at such subconscious mutual collusions as a son "forgetting" to close a bathroom door and his mother "accidentally" entering the room.
Finally, like many forms of "abnormal" sexual behavior, those who participate in mother-son incest are often essentially immature. The boys are often immature simply because they are young. The mothers, because their emotional growth has been stunted in some way. The immaturity leads to an unwillingness to face any emotional-sexual involvement other than the "safe" incestuous one.
There are those writers who imply that the incest taboo is almost entirely artificial. Freud, as I mentioned in the introduction, described it as a "wound inflicted on the erotic life of man"(4) and Tridon says that "the horror of incest which we all feel or pretend to feel is indeed an acquired feeling. Since every race has adopted incest as one of the cravings which mankind is constantly struggling against. ... If men and women avoided incest instinctively, no legislation would be needed against it."(5)
While the origins of the incest taboo are something which I do not wish to go into here, I would like to state that I feel Tridon goes too far in his assessment. The fact that, as we have seen above, incestuous behavior seems most common in individuals whose emotional adjustment to life seems somewhat deficient in other respects suggests to me that incest is not simply a purely natural human desire which society in its folly has prohibited. Instead, it seems to me to be an important signal to the psychotherapist that an individual may have severe underlying emotional problems which need treatment. Often, if these problems did not manifest themselves in this way they would find some other form of expression, such as psychosomatic illness. It is not that one wishes to prevent "wicked" incest, but that one recognizes that its basic causes may impede the individual's attempts to lead a satisfying life.
The reader will, I hope, notice that I speak of "treatment" and not of punishment or imprisonment. To send people to jail because of their sexual behavior benefits no-one, least of all society. The reader may not have liked all the individuals whom he met in the foregoing case-studies. Like every group of people, some of them are more likeable than others. But he will surely recognize that they are all human beings with human weaknesses, and this fact alone would seem to require that we, as fellow humans, offer them and others like them compassion rather than condemnation, and help rather than punishment.
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1. Masters, op. cit.,.p. 37
2. Masters, op. cit., p. 83
3. For women seeking to minimize age, see Masters, loc. cit.
4. Freud, op. ext., p. 74
5. Andre Tridon, Psychoanalysis and Love, New York, 1949, p. 31
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BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bromberg, Walter, Crime and the Mind, New York, 1948.
Freud, Sigmund, Civilization and its Discontents, New York, 1930. Totem and Taboo, New York, 1930.
Gordon, L., "Incest as a Revenge Against the Pre-Oedipal Mother," in Psychoanalytical Review, 52:284-292 (July, 1955).
Karpman, Benjamin, The Sexual Offender and his Offenses, New York, 1954.
Kinsey, A., Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, Philadephia, 1948.
Krafft-Ebing, Freiherr Richard von, Psychopathia Sexualis trans. New York, 1939. London, Louis, M.D., Sexual Deviations in the Female, New York, 1957. London, Louis, M.D., and Caprio, F.S., Sexual Deviations, Washington, 1950.
Masters, R.E.L., Patterns of Incest, New York, 1963.
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